#(For now it's off to doctor appointments and other life stuff)

[sadgirlautumn]

I’m currently very upset about the American healthcare system. Like I hope they know that they are making people actively sicker 🫶

[wooziorgans]

How will ji take care of his pregnant female wife ll pregnant male omega hubby

— pregnancy w jihoon

…. i am not an omega verse kind of guy so this is just how jihoon takes care of his pregnant partner. w some texts bcs yeah.

warnings: childbirth. suggestive. pregnancy. all that fun stuff. dilf jihoon. girl dad jihoon.

definitely super overwhelmed the SECOND you find out your expecting but so so sooo happy and excited to start a family with you.

it was definitely unexpected.

after your honeymoon, you started to feel a bit sick, and jihoon just thought it was the food not sitting well with you, or the different germs from traveling catching up. but then you were late and the hot flashes started and you had a suspicion.

while he was at work, you went to the store and bought one of each kind of pregnancy test, just to make sure. all of them came back positive.

when jihoon gets home, he finds you curled up on the couch with a mountain of blankets, which isn’t unusual.

but then he sees tear tracks on your face and he’s immediately worried. he sits beside you and you reach for his hand, but he sees you smiling softly and then it’s just pure confusion.

“baby, what’s going on? you were crying. are you okay?” he wipes at your the remnants of your tears with his thumbs. his brows are furrowed and he looks so worried about you that it makes you suddenly super emotional. god damn hormones.

“ji, i’m pregnant.” is all you say to him, and he feels like he’s going to pass out.

he starts crying almost instantaneously, and the tears don’t stop for a good ten minutes.

you haven’t seen him this choked up since he read his vows at your wedding, and this might be worse in terms of intensity. it makes you emotional, and so you both just cry in each other’s arms

when he calms down, he’s peppering your face with kisses, holding you close as he tells you he loves you over and over and over.

you’ve talked about having kids before, ands it’s always just been a kind of “if it happens, it happens” thing, even if jihoon started dreaming about having a family with you a year into your relationship.

okay maybe jihoon has wanted this more than he let on.

every preventative measure to make sure you didn’t get pregnant wasn’t one hundred percent, and it’s not like you stopped them. but you did spend days of your honeymoon going at it. and the time difference fucked both of you up, and then the pure need for each other lasted another week after your honeymoon.

so it was quite likely that you would’ve gotten pregnant, given the circumstances.

jihoon all but carried you to bed that night, cuddling with you all night long as you discuss your worries for the next chapter of your life together. his hand rubs soft circles on your stomach the whole time.

jihoon sits with you the next morning as you call the make a doctors appointment.

he’s with you at every appointment, wanting to make sure both you and the baby are healthy.

jihoon is no stranger to cooking; he cooks often and he’s quite good at it. but now he’s cooking every meal for you, making sure you eat well. he says it’s because you need to rest and stay off your feet, but really, he just wants to take care of you.

it eases his anxiety around being a dad if you let him control certain things like meals, so you let him.

pregnancy is weird though. you can’t eat certain foods that you used to love, and crave combinations you would’ve never imagined eating together before.

jihoon just indulges you; he’ll pick up your weird food combinations for you and when you suddenly feel queasy after he sets a plate of food in front of you, he’ll just kiss your forehead and make you something you can eat.

as you get further along, he checks in with you more often. he’ll call you when he has free time and starts to work from home more often.

as soon as you start to show, it’s like his hand never leaves your stomach. he rubs it, puts his head on it, kisses it.

the first time he feels the baby kick, he’s over the moon. so so so happy. it makes you cry a little.

he gives you massages all the time, even on days where you’re not that sore. definitely the kind of partner to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible.

neither of you were bothered by knowing the gender of your baby, but when it’s time for the appointment, jihoon’s practically vibrating in his seat.

you get the ultrasound and learn you’re having a girl, and jihoon immediately spends hours learning how to braid hair.

he’s so knowledgeable on pregnancy. he spends so much time researching the best ways to support you and the baby. he calls his mom at least once a week to ask questions.

pregnancy sex goes so fucking crazy with this man. he’ll spend all evening making you feel good out of pure appreciation for all that you’re doing. if the position you’re in isn’t working, he’s putting more pillows under your back to make sure you’re comfortable.

decorating the nursery with you is his favourite thing ever. you both decided it would be better to put crib in your room for the first little bit just so the baby is close. he buys a spare crib and changing table for his studio aswell.

he stocks up on all the things you need months in advance.

he’ll lift your bump up to give your back a few minutes of relief. he’s strong, so it’s nothing for him.

a month before your due date, he goes on hiatus to make sure you’re absolutely taken care of. he never leaves your side, opting to order things you need instead of going outside for them.

the second your water breaks and the contractions start, he’s dialling every single member until one of them picks up so they can give you a ride to the hospital. even thought it’s four in the morning, he does not care.

eventually seungcheol picks up, and rushes over. jihoon swears he’s not panicking, but he hates seeing you in pain, even if the result of that pain is something you’ve both been waiting for.

in the hospital, he’s holding your hand, letting you squeeze the hell out of it with each contraction. once you’re in the hospital, his anxiety eases up because you’re surrounded by professionals. now he can focus on you and relieving your anxiety.

after hours and hours of contractions, you finally go into labour. jihoon is right there with you, holding your hand as he tells you that you’re doing so good. just a little bit more.

when your daughter is finally here, jihoon cries. seungcheol comes back with the bag jihoon left in the midst of the chaos, at a more reasonable time after getting a few more hours of sleep. seungcheol gets to witness jihoon holding his daughter for the first time, shirt discarded for some skin to skin contact.

jihoon had read that skin to skin contact was important for bonding, and the second he’s able to hold your daughter, his shirt is gone. once he knows you’re doing okay, all he feels is joy.

postpartum, he does everything he can to make sure you’re okay. the first few days spent in the hospital, jihoon doesn’t leave you for a single moment. your emotions are quite strewn, mostly joy, but there’s some issues adjusting to no longer being pregnant.

jihoon takes most of the load, though you still need to care for your daughter. one by one, the members visit you in the hospital to make sure both of you are doing okay.

jihoon’s parents come to help you out when it’s finally time to take the baby home. it gives you a little bit of time to relax with each other and recover. the way his mom coos at your daughter is so heart warming. his father just looks proud of both of you.

jihoon is surprisingly good at being a dad right out of the gate. it takes him a while to figure out what your daughter needs but once he has a solid list to go through, he’s efficient. he takes care of her when she cries in the night, whispering to you softly. “i’ve got it, baby. go back to sleep.” you can’t fall back asleep until he’s back in bed, baby peacefully back in her crib.

fatherhood looks good on jihoon. you often find him passed out on the couch, shirt somewhere else with your daughter on his chest. his hands are always so carefully holding her, supporting her neck. he’s started wearing his glasses more often. even though you just gave birth, the prospect of another child isn’t off the table when your husband looks like that.

[jwanniie]

Can u do g!p doctor minji x reader fucking in her office making her cockdrunk and they do it many times?

I know you're busy rn so don't worry just take your time🥹 thank you I advance!! ♡

You can’t miss a Doctors appointment!

Pairings: G!p Minji x fem reader!

Warnings: BREEDING, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your Willy), not proofread, p in v, mention of pregnancy, overstimulation, creampie, big dick, a little bit of manipulation, pantie stealing and just Filthy smut!!

Jwans Note: I’m not really satisfied with how this turned out but hope you enjoy!!😔🥲

—————————————————————————

Meet Minji, a newly graduated doctor who had just landed her dream job at one of the world's most prestigious hospitals. Her hard work and dedication had paid off, and her parents couldn't have been prouder. They beamed with pride whenever they spoke of their daughter's remarkable achievements, and her success became the talk of the neighborhood. Her family had always known that Minji was destined for greatness, and now, she had proved them right. With her exceptional skills and a heart full of compassion, she was ready to take on the world and make a positive impact on the lives of others.

She basically was every medical students goal, they all wanted to be like her one day.

It was no surprise that the hospital gave her a private office. Soon, patients started pouring in and the day was filled with treating and helping them.

But there was this one patient that stuck to the back of her mind and didn’t seem to leave. You came to her office one day for a yearly check, and your results were above great but from the first time she laid her eyes on you, she knew she had to have you.

She made little “changes” to your file, perhaps a little sabotage so you could visit her office more often. It was all with a good intention, she thought.

You were waiting outside in her waiting room. This is the third time you have been here, for an unknown reason. She told you that she has to make more checks and she needed to make sure that everything is alright, but you still don’t understand what she wants? Every time you asked her is there something bothering your health, she didn’t give a straight answer, just shrugging it off and mumbling incoherent stuff.

“Miss y/n, come inside!” The secretary behind the counter told you. You quickly took your stuff and left for Minjis office.

Once she saw you enter her office she flashed you her signature warm smile, that seemed to leave every patient with heart eyes.

That happened to you when you first came to her office but as the time passed, those heart eyes slowly started fading.

You placed your coat on the hanger and sat down on the chair in front of her desk, the last thing you wanted to seem was rude so you returned a smile, a nervous one.

“Hi miss y/n! How have you been?” She questioned seeming really interested.

“I have been well myself, so is there something bothering my health?” you chuckled nervously, raising an brow afterwards.

She stood up and guided you to the examination bed, making you lay on it. Your breathing was unreasonably heavy and low. Your hands on your sides, while she was wearing her gloves.

“If that’s okay with you, could you take your clothes off?” She looked at you from the corner of her eyes before turning fully to look down at you.

You gulped nervously never have a doctor asked you anything like this but at the end of the day she is a doctor she must know what she is doing…😮‍💨🫣

You slid down your jeans before pulling your shirt over your head, handing it to her. She looked at you like she still was waiting for something, and that’s when you realized what she indicated.

Without much thought you just decided to make her life easier and just take your panties off, and so you did. She had her hand out to you when you took off your panties while a smirk across her face, you gave it to her even tho a crimson colored layer was over your cheeks. You didn’t miss how she stuffed your panties in her pocket.

At first everything was so normal, doing normal doctor check ups, and the doctor stuff that everyone have been through.

But not long after her hands started roaming around your form, her hands slowly reaching and nearing your core and you couldn’t help but let out a whimper when her fingers touched your embarrassingly wet pussy.

What could you do? You couldn’t deny that doctor Minji was hot, insanely hot! And you couldn’t deny how every night after meeting her, your fingers couldn’t satisfy you anymore. She wasn’t the only one desperate and hungry for you, you were for her too!

She smirked at the sound leaving your lips her finger pad teasing your walls reasoning for more breathy whimpers to fall past your lips. You were soaking her fingers and the examination bed already having a wet patch on it.

She undressed her white coat and slid her slacks down, exposing her deprived cock. Looking at the erection it seemed heavy and her red-ish tip leaking white salty substance.

You rubbed your thighs together at the sight a whine making it way out of your lips. She climbed on the examination bed and aligned her cock with your velvety walls. Before completely pushing in, her cock stretching your hymen, making you feel like at any moment you’d bleed. But the feeling was pleasurable nonetheless.

The waiting of months finally have paid off and she finally got to bury her cock deep in you. The bed rocking back and forth due to her ruthless thrust, making you feel that her cock was in your womb, hitting spots you didn’t know existed.

You were holding her shoulders for dear life, your nails sinking deep into her flesh, your knuckles turning white due to your grip.

Her Head buried into the crook of your neck, giving kitty licks onto your invisible Adam apple and sucking on the flesh, purple marks filling your, she could taste the chemical taste of your perfume and that only made her mind numb and intoxicated with the whole moment.

Both of you letting out the deepest sounds and whimpers, without warning her seed flew deep into you, straight onto your womb. The chances of you getting pregnant by her sent you over the edge, your own liquid pushing out her creamy substance.

“G’na get you pregnant baby, y-you could come Check in my office every day!” She whispered near your ear, shivers running down your spine.

She furrowed her brows, your own juices pushing her cum was making her annoyed, and without realizing it wasn’t long till her cock was again deep inside you. Your pussy tightening and clenching uncontrollably around her while overstimulation hitting you hard, a choked gasp came from you.

The pain and abuse of her cock making your eyes water. Tears sliding down your cheeks, it was replaced by mind blowing pleasure once again, your previous orgasm making the knot in your stomach snap, and fresh round of your juices tried to push her cock out but failed since the ramming of her cock was deep and rough, making your legs give up and your body laying limp.

She let out a growl before her balls shot new layer of cum into your abused hole, a satisfied sigh came from her.

She pulled out slowly trying not to overstimulate you more, and she saw how her cum gushed out. Her finger smeared her liquid before pushing it back in deeper. She kissed your puffy tear stained cheeks and caressed your closed lids softly.

She cleaned you up in the bathroom connected with her office and declined all of the appointments of the day.

[queenlucythevaliant]

See, I don't think that the Pevensie kids were uncanny and dangerous upon returning to England so much as just like. Cool weirdos.

Lucy talks to animals sometimes. She doesn't expect responses or anything; it has the same energy as a person talking to their dog, except it's the squirrel she spotted on the quad or the racoon in the garbage. But she's super friendly in general so after the initial "what the heck" everyone shrugs it off because like, yeah, of course she does. She also went with me to a scary doctor's appointment having known me for like five minutes and gave me an incredible pep talk. She's cool like that.

Peter joins the fencing club and day one it's like he's never held a foil in his life and day two he loses to a kid half his size but then after like a month he just absolutely annihilates the instructor. But he's super humble about it and afterwards he helps everyone else out without being condescending at all. And while it's a little weird that he's just Suddenly an expert, people are like, "he's a fast learner, that's cool." He's really industrious in class too, just Peter being Peter. He probably practiced a whole bunch after hours.

Edmund gets extremely weird food cravings sometimes, like "wow, I could really go for chicken liver with raisins right about now" or "you guys know what's great? Gooseberry trifles." And his friends say, "I've never heard of that before but it sounds weird." So Edmund learns to cook and starts making all these vaguely antiquated fancy dishes with weird berries and organ meats and things and shares them around during study breaks and everyone's like "Yo! Pevensie brought food. Cool, thanks Pevensie." And he shares it with everyone, even the kids nobody likes, and it kinda brings people together.

Susan, who was always the Mom Friend, seems to have gotten a power-up because now she Everyone's mom and weirdly people actually listen to her? But she only uses those powers for good. Girl in her dorm not eating enough? Susan's here with snacks and look at that now she's eating. Those guys arguing look like they're about to throw down? Susan says "knock it off" and glares and they do. And her friends are like, "how do you do it???" and she says "You just have to act like you expect to be obeyed." It's very cool, though it can be a bit Much sometimes.

And they're all into mythology now? Like ancient Rome and King Arthur and stuff? That's kinda weird, but not off-putting; lots of kids have mythology phases. And Peter named the tree outside his dorm, but everyone kinda laughs and says "yeah okay." Edmund is adamantly anti-bullying now, it's nice. Susan and Lucy wear a lot of lion-themed jewelry and people definitely Notice, but that just means that they start getting more of it for Christmas/birthdays.

And of course whenever two or more of them are together it's like they've got a conspiracy going on. They're always fervently whispering back and forth, giggling an the million inside jokes they've got, giving each other Looks. And onlookers are mostly just like, "Man, it's cool that those Pevensie kids are all so tight; I wish I was that close with my siblings."

[fluentmoviequoter]

Surety of Ghos-ti

Requested Here!

Pairing: Dominique Luca x pregnant!fem!reader

Summary: You are held hostage, and Luca and his team have to save you and your baby.

Warnings: angst, violence, threats of homicide, comfort/fluff

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Luca Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

“Hondo!” Luca calls as he enters SWAT HQ.

Hondo stands immediately, his eyes wide as he asks, “She’s in labor?”

“No, man, and she won’t be for a while,” Luca replies with a smile. “I thought I was supposed to be the nervous, jumpy one.”

“Give it a few more weeks,” Deacon interjects. “It gets easier after the first one, though.”

“We ain’t all like you, Deac,” Hondo teases. “What do ya need, Luca?”

“50 Squad’s serving a felony warrant with the Marshals in Santa Clarita, so Hicks wants us to be ready to pick up the slack.”

“They better not go to Magic Mountain without me,” Street grumbles from the other side of the room.

“Priorities, Street,” Deacon reminds him.

“Yeah, they’re sorted.”

“I have to be at the party supply store before they close at 9,” Chris says. “As long as our shift ends when it’s supposed to, I can let Rocker slide this one time.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Luca responds.

Chris turns to stare at Luca, and after a moment, he concedes and raises his hands. The team decided to throw you a baby shower, besides the one you had for friends and family, because you are part of 20 Squad, and you’ve gained another family. Luca expected Annie to be the one who took the reins of the shower. He has seen how well you and Chris get along, so he shouldn’t be surprised by her insistence on making the party perfect.

“When does she learn the gender?” Street asks. “If it’s a boy, Streeter has a nice ring to it.”

“They’re not going to set the kid up for failure before birth, my man,” Hondo calls.

“Her appointment was supposed to be today, but the doctor had to reschedule,” Luca answers. “She’s not sure she wants to know, though.”

“Chris works for a niece or nephew,” Chris points out.

Luca laughs, then remembers that Hicks asked him to review a new strategy with Hondo and, despite his preference to continue discussing you, he focuses on work.

Los Angeles has every kind of store you could ever need, but when a new handmade baby goods store opens a few miles from your place, you know you must visit. Luca is at work, you’ve done everything Chris allowed you to for the upcoming baby shower, and even though you’re 20 weeks pregnant, you’re restless. So, you gather your phone, wallet, and keys, then lock your front door and begin the short drive to the store.

The pastel blue façade welcomes you after you park, and you run your hand under your growing bump as you enter the store. A handwritten “Cash Only; Sorry!” sign is displayed on the counter, and you mentally thank yourself for asking Luca to take you to the bank over the weekend. He’s the best part of your life, the love of your life, and his insistence to help you prepare before giving birth has been a godsend.

“Hi!” a smiling employee calls. “Welcome in, let me know if you need anything!”

“Hello,” you reply. “Thank you. I’m just looking for now.”

“Awesome! There’s so much cute stuff in here, take your time.”

You smile, then trail your eyes around the store. It’s larger than it looked from the outside, and you decide to start in the back corner and work toward the front of the store. There’s a small cart return area at the front of the store, likely from the building’s past resident, now blocked off with a sign that says, “We got you, mamas. If you’re shopping alone and need assistance, let an employee know and we’ll keep your stuff behind the counter so you can relax and focus on finding the perfect items.”

As you reach the back of the store, there’s a corner filled with onesies and toes relating to parents’ jobs. A pair of pajamas catches your eye, embroidered with a police van that reminds you of Black Betty and “Relax, my dad is a police officer.” You lay it over your arm, then laugh at the one behind it. With both secured, you continue walking around the store. The employee from earlier checks in with you as you walk past and graciously offers to take the items from your arms and hold them behind the counter for you.

“Thank you,” you call as she uses a dry-erase marker to write your name on a plastic bin beneath the register.

“Of course!” she replies.

She waves to another employee, returning from somewhere, and you continue shopping. You look at some BPA-free bottles and specialty pacifiers rather than looking up when the bell over the door rings.

“Welcome in.”

You hear the strain in the cashier’s voice and shift your attention quickly, reaching for your phone when you see a man dressed in all black blocking the doorway. He puts his gloved hand against his hip as one of the women places her hand against the edge of the counter, her fingers underneath the lip. You assume she presses a panic button and stay behind a shelf as you click your screen to find Luca’s contact.

“Empty the register,” the man demands.

“Okay, okay,” one of the women mutters, opening the register and dumping a few bills and loose coins onto the counter.

“Where’s the rest of it?”

“That’s all. We just took most of it to the bank, we only have enough to make change.”

“Open the safe!”

“Don’t have one.”

The man jerks his head to the side quickly, then pulls a black gun from his waistband. You forget about texting Luca and press the button to call him instead. The man pulls his black cap off, running his fingers through his hair. He turns toward you after his arm falls out of his peripheral view, suddenly aware of your presence.

“What are you doing over there?” he yells, aiming the gun at you.

You raise your hands quickly, but not before setting your phone behind a bottle on the shelf and praying Luca answers. “I was just shopping,” you answer as you step away from the shelf.

“Give me your money, too!”

You swallow as you pull your wallet out, then hand over the cash you have. The man holds the gun on you with one hand as he counts the money with the other. He sighs, then backs toward the door. He twists the lock until it clicks and flips the sign on the door to say Closed.

“This isn’t enough,” he says as if he’s having a normal conversation and not threatening lives over less than $500. “What are we going to do about that?”

“What about a bottle warmer?” Street asks, scrolling through a baby registry on his phone.

“Got one,” Luca answers without looking up. “I told her to make her own registry.”

“Towel warmer for Mom?”

“I bought her one,” Hicks interjects. When the team turns toward him, he shrugs and says, “New moms need comfort and new things, too.”

Luca smiles and shakes his head as his phone begins ringing. “Speaking of new moms,” he murmurs before answering the phone. Luca doesn’t hear anything, so he repeats your name several times. Just before he hangs up, he hears muffled speech.

“What’s up?” Tan asks, noticing the concern on Luca’s face.

Luca gestures for him to be quiet, places his phone on speaker, and turns it up.

“I was just shopping,” you say, your voice growing quieter like you’re stepping away from the phone.

“Give me your money, too!” a man yells.

Hondo reaches across Luca’s chest and mutes the microphone to ask, “Where is she?”

Keeping the phone call connected, Luca navigates to your contact and reads your current location so Street can type it into the computer.

“Home Grown Baby, it’s a handmade baby goods store,” Street says. “The silent alarm was activated less than a minute ago.”

“Maybe you should put the gun down,” another woman says. “We can help you.”

Someone screams, and you plead, “Stop, stop.”

Hicks raises his own phone to his ear, whispering hurried commands. “I called off local PD. That’s a hostage situation. Luca, if you need to sit this out-”

“I’m good,” Luca assures the team. “Let’s do this.”

“Luca,” Deacon calls, stopping him on the way to Black Betty. “Your girl, your unborn child… he’s going to try to use them as insurance, a surety that things stay in his control. We need to you think with her if this is going to work.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Luca answers, letting his training override his emotions. At least until he gets to the store.

You hold a hand against your stomach as you sit beside the employees, tucked under the front of the counter as the armed man paces before you. Glancing over, you see that the woman who returned from the bank, Elizabeth, is looking better. He hit her over the head with his gun, but her color is returning, and the blood on her temple is drying.

“Is-" the other woman, Jane, begins. She stops when the man turns toward you. When he turns away again, she whispers, “Are you really with a cop?”

You nod once and squeeze her hand in a silent promise that your cop, your love, your Luca, will get everyone out of this building alive.

“Guns blazing,” Hondo suggests.

“I doubt he’ll like that,” Deacon argues. “He clearly wants to be in control based on the phone call.”

“They haven’t spoken since he made them sit,” Street adds, Luca’s phone pressed to his ear. “Not loud enough to hear at least.”

“We can’t risk spooking him into hurting anyone,” Luca agrees. “Try hostage recovery, talk him down, then go from there?”

“Thirty seconds,” Tan alerts from the driver’s seat. “Lights and sirens?”

“Lights only,” Hondo answers. “Park right outside the door, I want him to see us.”

Hondo takes a deep breath, then stops. He passes the phone to Deacon and nods once. Deacon dials the store number and waits for an answer as he trades places with Street to sit in the front.

“Hello,” he says after a moment. “I’m Sergeant Deacon Kay with LAPD SWAT. Who am I speaking to?”

“How’d you know I was here?” the man demands, in stereo for Street, listening to Luca’s phone and Deacon’s call.

“It’s a busy parking lot, someone got suspicious,” Deacon says carefully. “Is there something we should be worried about?”

“Yeah, there is!”

“What’s going on, sir?”

“I need money! She took everything from me, I can’t even see my kid and now I’m going to lose my apartment.”

Hondo holds up his left hand and taps his empty ring finger. Deacon nods, then takes a dramatic breath.

“I get that,” he replies. “My ex took all three of our kids, told the courts I would neglect them because of my hours as a cop. They- women take and take.”

“I need $1,200 but there’s only $300 here!”

“Listen, you come out, and I’ll help you with a plan to get the other 9.”

“No, no, I walk out there, I lose it all anyway. That isn’t how I’m ending this.”

“The women in that store didn’t do anything wrong, Mr.?”

“Kirkfield,” the man says quietly. “Keith.”

“Alright, Keith, my name’s David. I can help you, but not until I know the other people inside are safe.”

“I got a cousin who’s in jail for assault and battery, he called this part ghos-ti, you know what this is, David?”

“No, I don’t.”

“It’s like the root for our word hostage. I’ve got three ladies in here unwilling to cough up the cash I need.” He raises his voice, likely so you and the employees can hear, and adds, “If they’d listened, I’d be gone already!”

“Keith,” Deacon begins.

“No, I’m thinking you don’t get it either. So, remember next time you call without my money that ghos-ti also sounds a lot like a dead baby.”

Luca’s eyes widen as he grips the non-lethal gun across his chest. Hondo informs them they can’t get the money quickly, and Street shakes his head to communicate that Keith isn’t talking.

Suddenly, Deacon’s phone rings again.

“Change of plans, Sergeant,” Keith says. “Ten minutes, or I start shooting.”

“That won’t-“

The line beeps, and Luca tightens his jaw as Hondo begins brainstorming a plan to get inside.

You hold your hand against your mouth, growing nauseous from the stress of your situation, pregnancy hormones, and hunger. It’s been eight minutes since Keith gave Deacon ten minutes, and you know that the team is working to get inside if they’re not already.

“What are you doing?” Keith asks. “Move your hand.”

“I’m getting sick,” you explain before pressing your lips together.

“She’s pregnant, her blood pressure is probably too high or her sugar’s dropping,” Jane says. “I have snacks in my bag behind the counter, please just let me-“

Keith fires one shot into the wall, and you drop your head to cover your ears, fighting the rolling sensation in your stomach.

“Hold,” Hondo commands after the shot. “Street?”

“He-“ Street looks toward Luca. “He was talking to her, and one of the women asked to get her a snack. No one’s talking.”

“Stay here,” Hondo tells Luca.

“Absolutely not,” Luca argues. “We’re wasting time, Hondo.”

Luca’s chest tightens; he feels like taking a full breath would kill him, and this time, he can’t rely on his training. He heard the shot but no screaming, so he has no idea what they are about to walk into. Maybe Keith shot on accident, or maybe there’s a bloodbath. Regardless, you’re inside, and he will not sit on the sidelines.

They move silently through the back room of the store, pausing against a wooden door separating them from the showroom.

“I’ll give you my credit card, whatever you want, just please stop,” one of the women pleads through tears. Street thinks it’s Elizabeth, and as they review the thermal scan of the room, he tries to find where your phone could be.

“He’s pacing,” Tan says quietly.

“When he turns toward the front again, we’re breaching,” Hondo decides. “Don’t give him a chance to get another shot off, Chris.”

“I won’t give him a chance to pucker,” she mumbles as she moves into position.

Tan watches the image, raising his fingers to countdown from three. Hondo pulls the door open, and Chris shoots Keith’s upper leg before he even turns all the way around. Luca calls your name, rushing toward the counter as his team finishes their job. When he sees you, your arms wrapped protectively around your bump, he drops to his knees and pulls you against his chest.

“He’s cute,” the woman beside you – bloody woman Luca notices after – whispers.

You nod against Luca, carefully moving your arms to hug him. As you thank him repeatedly for coming, Chris and Tan haul Keith to his feet and take him toward an approaching patrol car.

“You hid this well,” Street applauds as he extends his phone toward you. “That microphone is nice, I should get one.”

“Priorities, Street!” Deacon yells from the back of the store.

“Thank you for coming,” you tell Street. “I need to pay for my stuff and then- I actually need to get up first.”

Luca holds your arms carefully, and Street lays a hand on your back as you stand. Once you’re on your feet again, Luca wraps his arm around your waist.

“These are so on the house,” Elizabeth tells you, passing two bags over the counter. “I’m going to the hospital with Jane but thank you for everything.”

“Thank you,” Luca tells her, pulling the bags to his side. “Now, we’re going home.”

You smile and lean tiredly against Luca. As he helps you into the passenger seat of your car, Street runs over and hugs you. Luca shoves him away from the back door before sitting in the driver’s seat and sighing.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he tells you, holding your hand against his thigh. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you reply.

“Isn’t it cute?” you ask, spreading the police van onesie over the table before you.

“Not cute enough to risk you getting shot at,” Luca mumbles against your temple. “But very cute.”

“Then you’ll really like this one.”

You pass the folded cloth to Luca, leaning harder against his side. He unfolds the onesie, reads it, and laughs. The sound feels like home, and as you curl up beside Luca, you know you and your baby will always be safe.

“Proof my mom loves policemen,” Luca says after a few minutes. “That’s funny.”

“And true.”

“Prove it,” he requests, smiling as his lips brush over yours.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unorthodox 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you bring order to the disordered life of Captain Syverson.

Characters: Captain Syverson, this reader is known as Izzie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Adrenaline pumps behind your ears. You sit in the dirt, heart thumping, body tingling, you're breathless. You can't believe you just did that.  

You tug on the strap of the chute as it digs into your shoulder. You steady you grip on your phone as you look up at the sky as you try to still your shaking. You just fucking jumped out of a plane and lived. Wow. 

You hit send on the video. The girls aren't going to believe you without evidence. Besides, you feel bad for missing cocktails. You'll be there in spirit. 

A sudden release has you feeling lighter as the chute detaches. You're lifted from behind by the empty back strapped onto you, "Iz, you good?" Sy asks. 

"I'm... alive," you say as you lower your phone and steady your feet, "that was..." 

"Come on," he meets your trembling disbelief with his stern intensity. "You know we still got stuff to do." 

You clear your throat and let out a deep breath, "sure thing, Sy." 

"Whatcha doin' anyway?" He taps your phone before you can tuck it away. "UberEats don't come out here." 

"Pfft," you scoff, "girls are having drinks. Was just sending them my regards." 

"Girls," he utters, "you tell them I'm sorry for keeping ya. Tequila Izzy must be a lot of fun." 

"I told you, I don't drink Tequila," you counter.  

"Sure, ya don't. You just never had good tequila." 

"Please," you turn to walk in time with him across the sandy field, "you know good liquor? I'm the one who stocks your footlocker." 

"Patron ain't too bad. I just don't like the price tag," he shrugs. 

“You? Careful about money?” You shake your head. 

“Eh? Last I checked, you were my money manager.” 

“Well, it wasn’t in the job description but there wasn’t really one, was there?” You kid as you keep step with him. You look ahead and the last of the thrill slakes away. “So, what are we doing here, Captain?” 

“Why ya callin’ me Captain for?” He nudges you with his elbow, “don’t sweat it.” 

Your eyes pinpoint in the distance as you try to see more than sand. Your cheeks slacken and your lips straighten. Business. It isn’t like it used to be. It’s more than emails and Zoom calls. No, it’s life and death. 

“Really, you don’t need to worry. He’s an old buddy. He’s just... livin’ off the grid right now.” 

“You sure?” You ask. 

“What happened to trust?” He challenges. 

“When did I ever say that word,” you mutter and chew your dry lip. 

He huffs, “don’t start. Come on. Won’t be no time.” 

He’s right. You approach a compound behind a thick metal fence. The sun beats down so hotly that you can see a ripple in the air and it looks as if the bars are bending. Like Sy, you’ve wrapped a scarf around your head to sop up your sweat and protect your face. 

You don’t miss the men perched on the posts or those just within. They have guns. They ready them at your approach. Sy shoots up a green flare that has them standing down. He stops you twenty feet from the gate. 

“He’ll come to us before we can go in.” 

You look at Sy. He’s calm, unbothered by the guns and the watching men and the burning sun. Out here, he’s in his elements. He’s confident in the matters of blood and violence, everything else is a mystery to him. His world is foreign to you. You live in the little nooks and cranny’s he doesn’t see; the business of living not killing. Bills, laundry, doctor’s appointments, deadlines, dishes... 

The gate opens and you tense. He taps your wrist, “ease up.” 

You do your best to obey. You don’t want to put any one else on edge. Didn’t you take this job to let go of all that? To stop being so damn uptight. 

A man walks out, unarmed, though he wears an armoured vest. Sy goes forward to greet them and the chuckle as they embrace, slapping each other’s shoulders. You stay behind, wary of the shadows behind the fence. 

“Syverson,” the man lilts, “you made it.” 

“Didn’t make it easy, Conrad,” Sy snorts. 

“Mm, but I thought you were coming alone,” the man looks past him and nods in your direction, “if you’d said a lady was accompanying you, I’d have sent the town car.” 

“Don’t be fucking funny,” Sy reaches to muss the man’s hair. “I’m starving and tired and your jokes still aren’t amusing.” 

“Come,” the man, Conrad beckons to you, “I’ve everything ready. Beds, food...” He draws out the last word with a wink, “wine.” 

Sy tilts his head and cranes to look at you as he follows Conrad’s gaze. You cross the expanse and take Conrad’s hand as he offers it, introducing himself as ‘James’. You shake his hand and return your name in turn. Sy turns forward and squares his shoulders. 

“Might I ask how you know each other?” Conrad turns to walk at your other shoulder as he points you onward. 

“Mmm, she’s...” Sy mulls his answer with a grumble. 

“Personal assistant,” you fill in for him. 

“Oh? How amusing,” Conrad remarks, “and in this line of work.” 

[casualheizouenjoyers]

- secrets i have held in my heart

featuring: jing yuan, bailu, yanqing, reader

warnings: a bit angsty ig, hanahaki au, blood, sickness, throwing up, coughing and just general sick stuff

Orchids grow where others cannot.

This phrase reigns especially true when orchids begin to grow in your body. Scratching your throat and clogging up your lungs. 

You try to laugh it off as a small cough, a small sickness, as if the whole thing didn’t fill you with dread when you thought about the invasive plant infesting your every breath. 

It isn’t until finally you violently cough over your sink that a bloodied white orchid petal came fluttering out.

Were… you some form of mara struck? You wondered in confusion at the collection of petals that grew with each hack of your lungs. 

The high elder —Bailu— immediately takes up your case. Which is potentially concerning as you’ve gone to about possibly any doctor that will see you for some kind of explanation to your floral fever and none of them have had anything good to say. 

In fact, they have nothing to say about your illness. No one knew what was causing the orchids to bloom, making a home of your decaying body; a pretty parasite taking you ahold. 

The little Vidyadhara girl frowned upon seeing the collection of whole flowers and crumbled petals, all coated with a splattered layer of dried blood. 

Bailu’s eyes squinted as she observed the floral. 

Perhaps, it was some kind of achievement that you had every doctor and healer on the luofu stumped at your conditions? 

It isn’t until you’re coughing out another flower, this time red covering it was still vibrant and liquid, that the healer decided you were some form of mara struck and needed to be monitored closely. Even as she wrote out her prescription and made you promise to come back the next week, you could tell she wasn’t too sure about what she was saying.

That did absolutely nothing to calm your nerves. 

You go home after collecting your prescription and puke out leaves and stems along with the flowers. 

Despite your sickness, work is work, you decided, and working as a tutor was fulfilling for you. You hope —prayed— that the sight of your favorite student, Yanqing, would bring you some form of joy. The lesson went smoothly, though it was clear your student’s mind was up in the clouds, but you didn’t comment about it as yours was rooted deep elsewhere. 

With the closing of the textbook, Yanqing’s eyes light up. 

“Can we swordfight now?” The teenaged boy asked.

You almost said no.

You had realized early on that Yanqing would do his work and pay attention better if you found a way to relate it to swordsmanship, or if you promised that the two of you would spar a little after a lesson. 

There was a growing weakness in your body. It seemed that describing the flowers as a parasite wasn’t inaccurate, as every day went on you felt them drain the energy out of you. 

Yanqing waited for your response.

You nodded, standing up and picking up your sword from where it rested on a wall. Once, you had used it as a cloud knight, now it only ever saw use when teaching the blonde boy. 

Yanqing excitedly ran to the other side of the room, drawing his sword and getting into position. He paused, looking over at you.

When did your eyes become so sunken in? Your hand shook as you held your sword up and it became increasingly clear to Yanqing that you were in no position to swordfight. 

Your student called out your name, a hint of concern in his voice. 

“I— Give me a moment—” You called out, placing a hand on your head as a sudden headache came, making your vision blur and your legs lose balance as you head tumbling for the floor.

Yanqing tossed his sword far away as he slid to catch you. 

Bailu is halfway through her yearly appointment with the general when you come in with Yanqing by your side.

You mumbled apologies for the interruption and swore on your life you were fine. 

You had honestly not realized how bad things had gotten in the few days from the last time you had seen the healer.

Your heart fluttered at the sight of Jing Yuan.

The orchid also fluttered out of your mouth in a set of coughs that leave you out of breath on the ground, Yanqing down at your side again. 

There are multiple voices speaking but your mind can focus on none of them. 

Jing Yuan helped you up and you feel your heart clench up as a choke comes to your throat.

More orchids. 

He whispered to you in a soft voice, trying to help you through this coughing fit as Yanqing explained the situation that had happened just a few minutes before. 

Bailu watched this, shock painted on the girls face as she realized two truths.

You were indeed mara struck, just with a rare mutation that had gone out thousands of years ago. 

You were also in love with the general

and it was going to be the death of you.

[stupidlittlespirit]

Please give us some Ford and medfetish head canons please 😭😭

I'm trying to keep my mind off of other stuff so I'm gonna get a little detailed under the hood to give myself a decent distraction..... If you know me irl and you see this then..... No you do not! Don't judge me, I am very normal and can be trusted at the doctor's office!

tw: medical fetish/experimentation fetish/anaesthesiology & drug administration/physical exams/dissection (potential gore?)/small and very vague mention of mild cnc under the influence of drugs

(this is all going to be post portal!Ford centric)

I think at a basic level, Ford would enjoy a good old fashioned doctor-patient roleplay.

He'd enjoy having his subject lie down on his examination table and go through the ins and outs of a standard health exam. He'd be kitted out, obviously: lab coat, mini torch, stethoscope, latex gloves, the whole shebang. I expect he might have a lot of biology-related equipment in the lab already from supernatural subject testing, but if he needed more specialist equipment he'd just order it ahead of schedule.

His subject would be nervous, of course; it's intimidating to be intimately exposed in a room where the only other person present is someone senior to you and is still fully dressed, but Ford would be quick to pick up on their little trembles and he'd reassure them that they'll be well taken care of.

I imagine he'd either film it or record the audio. Not sure why, just seems like it would be important to have for his 'records'.

Ford would start off with generalised stuff, including reflexes, before moving onto something more.... Erotic? Gag reflex, for example. He might use a notched, glass tongue depressor (these are pretty old school, they use wooden ones now I believe) to see how much the subject could take back into their throat, to test how deep they can swallow around the depressor. He'd use his torch to shine in to watch the subject's throat convulsions, too. I think he'd just appreciate watching the human body react.

Then, I think a breast exam would be fun for him. He'd measure and then go on to check the subject's nipple reflex etc, still monitoring and noting down the reaction to stimuli, both from his fingers and his mouth.

And of course, a gyno/penile inspection ("feet in the stirrups for me please, my dear...")

(This is going to focus on vaginal because anal is not for me, it is personally triggering for various reasons that I don't want to explain, but I understand that a Reader may prefer it or may not have a vagina, so try to just apply what I'm saying to anal instead of requesting I write it, just in case anyone planned to, thank you! :) )

Again, reflex and stimulation response, making sure everything is in working order. I imagine he'd expect to need to use lubricant of some kind but be pleasantly surprised that nothing is needed, so he'd move along onto penetrative response.

Fresh gloves applied and then we're onto digital penetration! Now, Ford Dr Pines would have some standards already set; One, two, three, four fingers? Easy peasy. He'd know that his subject could take that, that's amateur hour as far as he's concerned. What he'd be interested in is how much further could his subject stretch? Dr Pines has big hands, after all, with thick fingers, and with six of them he's going to be expecting to go big or go home. Pushing boundaries is his whole thing!

He'd ratchet the stirrups a little further apart and ease a fifth finger into his subject, moving them slowly and carefully until his subject is acclimatised to the width and taking them with ease. The entire time he'd be singing their body's praises, too. Not in a dominant way, but just in a genuine, loving 'I'm really into you, and biology in general' type of way.

He'd be sure to question his subject throughout the process, too. Just like a regular sexual health appointment he'd be requesting information on his subject's sex life and general health, most of them bordering on inappropriate in terms of details, but he'd assure them the inquiries were perfectly normal and to be expected.

Now, I'm not into fisting and so I'm not going to write that, but I think he'd be very pleased if he managed to get his entire hand inside his subject, just for a moment. There'd be something endlessly wonderful to him to see the one part of himself that is so personal to him meet with the most intimate part of his beloved subject.

I think he'd play with a little oral stimulation, too. I doubt I have to go into this too much, so I'll leave you with the concept of him applying varying pressures of mouth/suction stimulation and taking breaks to yap his observations to the camera/recorder, playing totally dumb to the way it's absolutely torturous for his subject to be wound up and denied release.

He'd pause if his subject was too wriggly, though, and probably put them in restraints. For their own safety and for his; this is delicate! He wouldn't want his subject to hurt themselves.

For penile inspection, it would be very similar. Sensation testing and sperm production would be test-worthy to him.

And then he'd go about doing a general check up, the normal sort of stuff that you'd expect etc etc, until he'd lead it into sex.

I actually think he'd prefer to jerk himself off while he performed each test, as opposed to going into full penetrative sex with his subject. Not to say he wouldn't like that, but I just find watching masturbation to be much hotter sjsdhdhsjsjd

Now. To the more intense stuff:

Gags are used sometimes in medfet. They tend to be close to/or are professional dental equipment, such as a Jennings gag or similar. Personally, however, I think Dr Pines would quite enjoy engineering some of his own creations....

I'm not sure how many of you are familiar with equine dental spectrums (not many, I'm sure) but they're weird devices that I've been kind of obsessed with since I got to use one on a horse years and years ago (a visiting equine dentist let me, a student at the time, help out with my own horse's check-up and it was very cool and interesting!). Now, these things are big, obviously, and clunky. Google McPherson speculum (sfw). The part that forces the mouth open can be cranked to a preferred width, and there are metal troughs that cup the horse's front teeth and prevent cutting the vet's arm.

So, let's say our lovely Dr Pines decided to engineer a smaller, customised McPherson speculum for his subject. He'd create one that wrapped around his subject's head and parted their mouth nice and wide for him. Maybe

He'd lower his exam bed until his subject was laying prostrate and inspect their throat and molar teeth. This would probably be a variation on the basic oral exam I talked about at the start, just with harsher equipment. Cue gag tests, possibly with a proper, more phallic shaped, glass instrument. Maybe even his own cock. Depends on his fancy.

Another area is needle play/play piercing. He might be interested in sensation play with them or just simply enjoy the aesthetic of them. We could get weird with it and include some suspension flesh hook stuff, but I think that kind of stuff would be more suited to research era!Ford, for obvious reasons..... It's quite extreme.

Anaesthesia play, for me, is also interesting. Now, in real life, you don't use actual drugs. You'd use hypnotic suggestion, poppers, OTC sleepy pills or breathplay etc. But with Dr Pines? Well, you'd be in safe enough hands to risk dabbling with some groovy substances.... He wouldn't want his subject out cold, however. Just on the cusp.

Ever had gas and air? Well, I have (in a medical context), and it's kind of very fun. It made me feel lightheaded and woozy, and really giggly. It's basically a whippit (no idea if this is much of a thing outside of the UK??) and although you really shouldn't use them in a recreational context, they're not going to kill you if you use them once or twice under the right supervision. (do not condone, do not do this! *wags finger*)

I think Dr Pines would enjoy plying his subject with some delicious nitrous oxide until they were well and truly under the influence, and then either engaging in sex/orgasm extraction whilst they were restrained on the examination table or.....

He'd move from there into cutting: So, cutting is what it sounds like. Typically, a person would make small, shallow incisions with a scalpel and do some blood play etc, then bandage or sew them up. But because this is la la land, Dr Pines is going to go further than that.

Dr Pines would prefer to administer gas to relax his subject, then numb an entire area (let's say his subject's forearm) and dissect it. He'd want to see the inner machinations of his subject's body, to see how they really ticked and also, there's something very romantic about knowing your lover literally inside out, imo.

Now I know irl a person would probably pass out if they saw their insides for real, but this is fiction and Dr Pines' subject is tough. They're going to be into it. Like, I N T O it.

And then he'd lovingly stich his subject back up and nurse them back to health through aftercare.

I know, I know, this is surgery-level shit. This is not practical. I do not care. I want him to open me up and rummage around in there. I think it'd be cool.

Scenarios to apply medfet to:

Doctor-patient

Dentist-patient

And my personal favourite is always going to be: mad scientist-test subject and unethical experiments, hence the use of 'subject' instead of patient throughout this whole answer lol. It suits him too well to ignore. I'm sure you agree.

I could also apply this with Ford as the test subject too. As I mentioned previously, I think a little fic where he's the one who is picked up by a curious alien scientist and tested on would be fun, too. It would give me room to play with him being submissive..... Food for thought.

We'll have a little doctor-patient play in the Spores sequel, though it won't be a proper kink set up, but I am probably going to write a full play scene inspired by this post. This was fun to think about and it's got me imagining more about this kind of stuff now.

I have no idea if this was what you meant when you sent this ask, so I'm sorry if this wasn't quite what you were looking for but I hope it's at least a bit fun! :) I had fun and I really needed this distraction. So thank you, anon.

[r0-boat]

Would you be willing to write something about the kings finding out the mc has chronic pain? Specially nonstop headache type of thing, like they find out after a run in with someone from paradise lost. Basically the mc getting called out for hiding something from them

This is so interesting thank you for letting me write this!

Please let me know if I get any thing wrong stuff like this makes me nervous to write, but I still try anyway!

Whb Kings reaction: Mc with a chronic pain

Sfw a little angs

Mc's chronic pain comes from headaches

Terrified. Utterly terrified. He's already scared enough because one day he feels like he will just lose control of his rage and hurt you. Every time he sees you in pain He just wants to take out his rage somewhere else. Rage that he can't do anything, rage because you're suffering, wrath because he knows angels will use this weakness in some way.

Satan

Is he overreacting? Perhaps. But it comes from a place of worry and genuinely cares about you. He acts like a pissed-off cat when he finds out you've been hiding it from him, sitting crisscross, his arms folded, staring blankly at a wall in the corner, not speaking to you until you apologize. He doesn't like that Lucifer is pretty much The only one able to help you, but he doesn't trust anyone more than Lucifer for your health, so he's probably going to get over it.

Mammon

He doesn't quite understand why you kept this from him. His pride is mostly more broken than his feelings. He takes great pride in taking care of you in all your needs. All of them. He cannot take care of your needs when he does not know. You must tell him everything from now on please...

"are you sure there is no immediate cure? I'm sure there is something no matter how expensive I shall cover for it."

A proposal you adamantly declined. Mammon pouted, but thankfully did not pester you further. If it wasn't for Lucifer having all your health care already free Mammon would surely cover.

Salty little worm, but puts aside his salt for the sake of your health. But he must come to all your visits. He has to be in the room with you at all times, glued to your side like your shadow. He must know everything about your health from now on. Your punishment for keeping this from him!! He must know everything that Lucifer knows EVERYTHING. 70% is because he wants to help you when something happens. The other 30% is because he wants to be the closest one in your life and is jealous of Lucifer because he knows more about human anatomy and can be the only one who can help you, but he can't do anything about it. After all, he needs Lucifer because he is pretty much the only doctor who can help you who knows about humans. But that doesn't mean he can't voice his complaints.

Leviathan

And oh he will every visit grumbling something about something about anything.

He understands why you kept it from him. He straight up says "it's okay your secret safe with me I'll forget it 5 minutes later anyway."

Beelzebub

At least he remembers that you need to see Lucifer every now and then, and his subordinates make sure they carry any painkillers or any prescription you need. Beelzebub makes doctor's visits and sitting in the waiting room a lot more fun, anyway. You can't help but laugh when you see him absolutely mesmerized by the fish tank. Bael has all of your scheduled appointments and each prescription down to the milligram memorized, and he will spam your phone if you have an upcoming appointment.

Lucifer

He already knows. He had been waiting for you to tell him. And once you tell him or try, he cuts you off and says, "I know."He knows more about human anatomy and is studying more about human health, mainly because of you. Of course, he would put you under a special microscope and be extra attentive to any signs of your health. You kind of forget that he is technically a doctor, and he can spot your health far better than you can.

Lucifer becomes extremely hovering, especially when it comes to your health. Sometimes it bores on nagging. But he just wants you to be healthy, humans are quite fragile and their life goes away in a blink of an eye He would do anything to make you live as long as you can.

[creepycranberry]

Same people, Different circumstances

Eddie Munson x mom reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, not proofread

You sat in the dark, covering your ears in search for some reprieve from the wailing. You had been crying too, for hours it had been like this.

You felt guilty for just letting her cry but you were so exhausted. She had a fever, she spat out whatever medicine you tried to give her, you had the noise machine on, you shushed and hummed until your throat was dry but nothing worked.

She wouldn’t eat or sleep or stop crying and it was becoming too much for you alone.

You didn’t understand moments like this. You had done all of this alone. You found out you were pregnant in a rest stop bathroom alone, you had gone to doctors appointments alone, sat in the bathroom puking by yourself, you set up the nursery alone, you drove yourself to the hospital and gave birth alone, every single step of the way you’ve done this completely alone.

Aside from your landlord, an old Cuban lady who spoke with a thick accent and watched Winnie while you went to work.

But she was away visiting family this week, so you were utterly and completely alone.

You hadn’t meant to call him, you meant to call your upstairs neighbor to see if they had a thermometer because yours had crapped out when you needed it most. But instead when the ringing stopped it was his voice.

“Hello?” A deep groggy voice mumbles into the phone and you hiccup the sob you had been working on keeping down so your neighbor wouldn’t be too concerned, “hello?” He asked again, much more awake this time.

“Eddie I didn’t mean- I called the wrong number, just go back to sleep I didn’t mean-“

“Is everything alright sweetheart?”

He shouldn’t be so sweet to you.

Sure you ended things on good terms but this wasn’t anything he should be worried about.

“Yeah, yeah it’s fine.”

“Why are you crying?” He asks softly and you bite your lip to keep from crying more.

“She won’t take her medicine, and she won’t stop crying and I don’t know what to do.”

“Who? Teddy?” He asks, referring to the tabby cat that was likely hiding under your bed.

“No- no. Um, Winnie, my kid. She has a fever and I don’t have a thermometer and she won’t take her medicine and I called you accidentally.”

There’s rustling over the phone and the muffled sound of a girls voice. Dammit.

“Eddie if you’re busy-“

“No, I’m fine. I’ll be over soon,” the jingling sound of his belt rings over the phone, “you need me to grab anything from the store or do you want me to just come right over or..?”

“Eddie really you don’t have to-“

“I’ll grab some take out too, be there in a minute.” And then the phone clicks off.

You go back into the nursery where a still wailing Winnie is sat up in the middle of her crib, covered in puke.

You feel guilty for stepping out to make the call and you have to work to keep yourself calm as you go to the crib to pick her up, shushing and apologizing as you head towards the bathroom.

You go through the motions of giving her a bath despite her fussing.

Your thoughts drift to your embarrassment over calling Eddie. You didn’t even know how it happened, maybe you still had him on speed dial or something?

And explaining to him that you called him over your kid who he’s never met or heard of is in your top ten most awkward moments.

But for right now you need to focus on your daughter.

You wash the puke out of her hair and the little rolls of fat on her legs and the crack of her neck and you try to softly shush her.

Just as you’re drying her off there’s a knock at the front door. You essentially swaddle her in her towel as you go to get the front door.

Eddie is standing there with take out bags in one hand and a handful of random things in the other.

“Hey.” You haven’t seen him in about a year. You both promised to keep in touch but life got in the way.

“Hi.” He smiles sweetly and moves further into the apartment. He sets down the stuff in his hands and Winnie momentarily quiets down when she notices a new presence in the room, “hi Winnie,” Eddie coos, hand moving to smooth down her wet hair, “I’m Eddie.”

“You really didn’t have to come over here, Eddie. I meant to call my neighbor but I guess I forgot to take you off of the speed dial on my landline and-“

“Don’t worry about it. I told you I’m always here to help and I meant it.” He assures you, reaching out to the baby to see if she’d rather go to him, which to your surprise she does, “hey girlie.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thermometer. He takes her temp and grimaces.

“I know you just sounded busy.” You shrug, heading over to the laundry basket on the couch to grab a onesie for her. You pluck a diaper off of the coffee table and much to Winnie’s chagrin you take her away from Eddie to change her diaper and dress her.

“I really wasn’t.”

“I’m not sure your date would agree.” You comment, velcroing the diaper closed.

“I didn’t realize you could hear her.” He mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

You just shrug.

“Can you just hold her for a second while I change the sheets in her crib?”

Eddie nods, reaching out for the baby who has stopped wailing but is still fairly fussy.

You busy yourself with her sheets, grabbing the extras from her drawer and taking off the soiled ones. You try and breathe and not dwell on the oddity of the situation.

When you make it back out to the living room Eddie is attempting to feed Winnie a cracker.

“She’s too small for that, Eds.” You inform him and he jumps, holding the cracker away from the baby and taking a bite for himself to hide what he was doing.

“I-I know I was just-“

“Feeding her a cracker?” You smile and he begrudgingly nods.

“She just seems hungry.” He shrugs.

“She probably is but she won’t take a bottle. I’ve been trying on and off for hours.”

You lean your head onto your hands and close your eyes.

“Well how about you eat something and I’ll see if she’ll take a bottle from me?” Eddie suggests, propping the baby on his hip and heading for the bag of takeout on the coffee table.

“Good luck with that.” You mumble, rubbing your face to wake yourself up. Eddie heads for the pantry and pulls out the baby formula and a bottle. He makes a bottle with Winnie on his hip, humming a Bowie song to her as he shakes her bottle, “since when do you know how to make a bottle?”

“Steve and his girl had a baby a couple months ago, I’ll babysit every now and then when he needs me to.” Eddie shrugs, offering the bottle to Winnie who gives him and dirty look and shoves the bottle away, “well you gotta tell me what you want, girlie.” He tells her, and then the pouting starts. Her little bottom lip juts out and she looks at him like he just cut off her teddy bears head and he panics, holding her close and begging her not to cry, “come on, Winnie, don’t cry. If you cry your mom won’t ever let me come back and then I’ll cry and cry and cr-“

He smacks his head on the cabinet he opened but forgot to close and curses.

Winnie giggles and reaches up to where he hit his head and she pats it, a little harshly. Eddie frowns at her and then lightly pats her back on the forehead.

She laughs again and you smile, relieved after not hearing the sound for an entire day.

“You little sadist.” Eddie grumbles and walks her over to the couch, bottle still in hand. This time when he offers it to her she takes it, leaning onto his arm a bit more.

Eddie looks at you with a grin that never fails to make your stomach flip and you smile back.

“Your turn.” He nods to the take out and you groan.

“You didn’t need to bring food Eddie, the fact that you came here at all is enough.” You try and convince him but he isn’t having it.

“Well I’ve gotta make sure you eat too.” He shrugs and you sigh, opening the bag to find the logo of a Chinese place y’all used to order from all the time.

You frown slightly and Eddie panics a little, “did I get your order wrong? I could have sworn-“

“No. You got it exactly right.” You assure him, a tight smile gracing you features and Eddie shakes his head in confusion, setting Winnie’s bottle on the table and burping her.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing I just- it’s weird I guess.” You shrug, opening the takeout container and a plastic fork.

“What do you mean?”

“Just us. It’s just- we haven’t spoken in a year, I have a kid you found out about an hour ago and yet the second I call you you’re here, with food you know I love, my exact order, and you’re feeding and burping my baby and-“ and it should have been like this all along.

Eddies quiet for a moment, like he heard what you almost said and is trying to figure out how to react, “I mean circumstances are different but we’re still us. This is how things were before… us. If you need me I’m here and if I had called you before this you would have been there as well.” A pause, “right?”

“Of course.”

“So how did she happen by the way?” Eddie asks, changing the subject.

“Well you see, when a man and woman meet and have a few too many drinks almost every time they’re together-“

“Okay, okay, I get the picture.” Eddie grimaces and you lightly giggle, “is he around?”

“Not really. I told him and he asked me if I wanted him there and he was really practically a stranger and I asked if he wanted to be there and he answered honestly. And I told him that was fine. I don’t expect anything from him, he sends money every now and then but other than that she’s never met him.” You explain, lightly combing the babies hair with your fingers.

“Shitbag.” Eddie mumbles.

“He knew he wouldn’t be much of a father and he was honest about it. Would rather that than he feel obligated to stick around and make her life hell.” You shrug and Eddie nods.

“So you’ve done all of this alone?” Eddie asks and you nod.

“Pretty much.”

“That is so wildly unfair.”

You raise your eyebrows, a grin growing on your lips despite yourself, “It's nice to hear someone else say it.”

Eddie nods, standing up and cradling Winnie, bouncing her in his arms and pacing in an effort to get her to sleep.

“I really hoped she was yours at first.” You confess and Eddie's eyes widen, “don’t get too freaked out, I just knew that if she was yours I wouldn’t have to do it alone. And that maybe she could have some kind of dad figure.”

“That makes sense. We could pretend she was mine.” He smiles and you shake your head.

“Whatever, Munson.”

“No, I’m serious. It doesn’t have to be a big thing I’m just saying that like, if you need me to take her for a weekend I could take her for a weekend. And I could help when she starts school or when she’s sick. I can teach her to ride a bike and I can scare her first boyfriend and beat his ass if he hurts her and I could teach her how to check her oil and change her tires. And when she gets caught drinking I can pretend to be disappointed and help give her a really stern talking to.”

You laugh and nod, “maybe. I’m gonna let you think about what that kind of commitment would entail first though.”

Eddie smiles and looks down at a now sleeping Winnie, “she looks just like you.” You nod, “she’s got my eyes though.” He quips and you shake your head.

“Oh whatever.”

Eddie grins and you have to try your best not to feel that familiar ache in your bones.

He goes to the nursery and leaves you in the living room by yourself with your food. After a moment you hear the sound of a noise machine and the click of a door closing and then he’s back.

“You made that look so easy.” You grumble as he sits next to you.

“I’ve just got that fatherly touch, yknow?” You laugh again and he smiles. Not a grin, not a cheeky, mischievous smile. a content, comfortable smile that warms you in a way you’ve longed for since you broke up, “how’ve you been?”

You shrug, “I’ve been. If I keep moving I don’t have to think about how I am.”

“Are you happy?” Eddie asks, moving to face you so his knee is touching yours.

“Sometimes,” you shrug, “every now and then it gets stressful but a good day is a really good day.” Eddie nods, “what about you?”

He gets really quiet, “I’m not happy.”

Your face falls and you instinctively start repeatedly smoothing his hair behind his ear in the way you know comforts him, “what’s up, hon?”

“I just don’t have much anymore I guess.” He shrugs, “I don’t have much purpose.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is. I work and I try to meet new people but I just don’t feel like it’s worth it.” He explains.

“Why not?”

He’s quiet again, mulling over whether or not to give an honest answer, “because none of them are you.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t- don’t think too much about it, like don’t read into it too much I just- you’re fulfilling for me. You held on and you helped and you gave me this sense of purpose that I haven’t really been able to get since…”

You stay quiet and wait for him to finish what he was saying but he doesn’t.

“Do you wanna stay here tonight? I mean, just in case Winnie wakes up and would rather have you get her than me?”

Eddie just about melts. He rests his forehead on your shoulder and nods.

“Yeah. I mean, I wouldn’t want to disappoint Winnie.”

————————

Pt 2

[darkdemeter]

ONE AND THE SAME, LONELY AND AFRAID

⚤ Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Therapy — angst — hurt comfort? — (introverted) reader — insecurity warning — semi-established mutual pining/interest — strong language — socially awkward bean reader — basically reader has a lot of reservations about things that involve other people, more of a self isolated type — self sabotage — we got a mutual-semi happy ending — I think that's it? ✎ 7.6k You've always opted to be alone. Recent visits to Dr Raynor, however, work to bring down those walls you hold up. Little are you aware that someone you're talking to is very much the same as you. Lonely and afraid.

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

 “Have you been keeping up with the exercises I gave you?” 

  Already she knows the answer. Not even three seconds can you maintain eye contact, eyes feeling glassy each time you near the braving point. It’s futile. People can hear what you’re saying right? Why the need to have your eyes glued to them?

  Your shoulders shove up weakly and Dr Raynor rhythmically paces the pen’s butt against her notebook. 

  “That’s a no,” she sighs, “I gave you those exercises to help you. Eye contact, let’s start with that again: what do you find so intimidating about it?”

  The air is so silent you could hear a pin drop. Your gaze is still glued to a random place on the wall behind her. That is the closest you can give her today. 

  Her lips push together and her eyes thin in that way you assumed all of these doctors do, a tactic to unnerve you into squeezing out the details. To weed out the problems. You don’t like it. Your fingers are crushed in the grip of your other hand sitting in your lap idly. 

  Again, you shrug. “Just that. Intimidating. It’s… a lot.”

  “There’s more to it for you. And I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that, it terrifies you when someone looks at you. Focuses their attention on you.”

  “Maybe it’s something like that…” You tilt your head slightly. “Maybe it’s not.”

  I don’t like being here. I just wanna go. I still have fifteen minutes. 

  “Your family is worried about you. You have a tendency to be self isolating. Reserved. They’re concerned that you’ve been alone.” She’s spitting words at you. Family concerns have always been the bane of your lonely ways. Their constant insistence to put yourself out there, to go out on at least one date. 

  Try to talk you into meeting people they know, saying that they will be good for you. All because they’ve grown far too comfortable with being with someone, that they can’t stand to be alone themselves. And then, they have to project that onto you. 

  “It’s a choice.”

  “What can you tell me about your intimate life? Partners, significant others.” 

  The jutting of your pouty lip is any indication that a cheeky remark is right on the edge of your tongue. She stops you right before you can say a word. 

  “Stuff toys and pets do not count.”

  “But they’re companions. You wanna know about my companion life, right?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  It takes another five minutes. Pure and slow in time, each waver of the ticking hands beats another seconds off the appointment. But it’s not fast enough for your liking. Tongue tracing the curves of your gums and teeth, you contemplate. 

  Dr. Raynor says your name to draw your attention back - escaped into the cosmos - now forced right back into the couch in her office. 

  “Seeing someone? Talking to anyone?”

  “Sure.”

  “Anything else?” She raises a gesturing hand, a silent command for you to speak further. To give her further information. Personal information that’s yours. Safe in your head. There’s no point giving that out to others.

  “Just talking to him is all.”

  “So neither of you have met in person before?”

  Lips rolling inward, thinning, you shake your head. “No.”

  Your name is drawn from her lips as a low sigh. She scrawls something down in her notebook, albeit a little aggressively. 

  “Money is being wasted each and every time you come in here, sit on this couch and say nothing. Resolve nothing. Time is being wasted, time you could be spending out there, actually bonding with someone who you may call a friend or a significant other.”

  “I never wanted to be here in the first place.”

  Her eyes roll up to meet yours, the split second you manage to meet her eyes, you see the scrutiny. The disdaining judgement and patience that wanes thin for every drop of time in the remaining minutes left. 

  “That wasn’t even two proper seconds,” she notes, “and yet, you come to your sessions each time.”

  “Because if I don’t, then that same concerned family chews my ear off about it.”

  Another two minutes pass by. You count the ticking hands slowly. Far too slow. When will this fucking nightmare end? Dr. Raynor continues to pounce her pen on the pad’s paper, the sound a distant, drumming beat. 

  “From what I’ve gathered, your siblings all have partners of their own, some of them beginning to grow their families. Am I correct?”

  You nod as your teeth sink into the inside of your lip. “Right in the ballpark.”

  “And you are so comfortable with being alone because it’s all you know. You’re afraid of letting someone in. You rather keep your guard up than ever risk giving someone a chance to love and accept you. I have another patient just like that. Shut off from the world and distrusting.”

  It’s like she read your mind. You almost applaud her for her scooby doo investigation. “Wow, way to keep the confidentiality, Doctor,” you breeze through a forced, tight smile, eyes still cast to somewhere else in the room. “It’s better to keep people at arms length. Easier to detach from.”

  “And is that what you’re doing with this guy? Keeping him at arm’s length?”

  “Sure. I guess.”

Three minutes remaining. You breathe a sigh of relief. 

It’s almost over. 

Then it lingers on your mind… “Tell me because I’m curious, but why are people obsessed with the idea that being alone is such a bad thing?”

It’s closing in on one minute. A single minute she has to deliver you an answer. Of course, usually she disregards questions like this. But today, she indulges. Maybe, just maybe, this is your way of breaking through to her. To finally and truly give her something to work with.

  “I will tell you what I told another patient of mine. Being alone is the most quietest and personal hell someone can endure.”

The chiming of the appointment’s bell signifies its end. You’re eager to stand up from the couch but Dr. Raynor holds a hand up. “Before you go running off back to your lonely hell, I want you to perform at least one exercise.”

  At first, you mean to brush her off, your eyes refuse to meet the piercing stare you know is burrowing into your soul, seeking you out in the darkness of your reservations. “Alright. Sure…”

  “If you’re interested in this guy, I want you to make the first move and ask to meet up with him. Begin to lower your walls.”

  You’ve done it. Just as she asked of you. In hindsight, you should have just ignored her. In honesty, it’s been a while since your heart has bruised your ribs with such intensity in its anxious rage. What if he said no? Neither of you had ever really flirted heavily or indicated that you were head over heels, eager to see each other. 

  As if you both just knew, you were each settled comfortably in this mutual exchange of words. No video, no voice messages or calls. Just words. Conversations about work, some random things happening during the week and other topics people chat about. 

  You were meant to feel brave in that moment. To feel invigorated as you take that daring leap of faith outside the comfort of your own space. A safety net you had taken great care to curate, to save yourself from ever falling to the ground with no will to get back up. 

  In your mind, you’ve seen your siblings go through enough failed relationships that it in some strange way, you’ve experienced it on some outside level. You’ve gained the knowledge that if you let someone - a stranger - in then they will find a way to hurt you one way or another. 

  But what about that lucky person? That destined soulmate everyone raves on about. Could you really stand going through failure after failure, after seeing the damage it caused your loved ones? 

  Why risk it? I’m just putting a target on my heart that says “hurt me, please!”.

  However, with the following silence after, you believe you had your answer. He wasn’t interested in you. He just wants to remain mutuals. You understand that, you accept it wholeheartedly. It saves you from getting hurt, from him getting hurt and that’s all that matters.

  Having your heart broken because you allowed love to blind you to rational thought isn’t something you’re wanting to bring to one of your appointments. 

  Around ten minutes later he responded. His answer leaves you in a state on the bathroom floor, on your arse, back pressed against the sink cabinets and your chest heaving for any amount of oxygen. The world’s closing in around you, it’s turning against you. Eyes watering until your waterline is drowning and blurry, your hands rake through your hair and grasp at the roots.

  The olive branch you extended is received by him whilst your mind spirals into the pools of doubt and sabotage. He’s accepted your bold invitation.

  How can I go on a date? I can’t keep eye contact, I don’t know how to act or what to say! 

  What do we talk about in person? How much is too much?

  Maybe it was a mistake. Would it be rude if you pretended it was a joke? You think it over once, then twice. It plays on repeat what you plan to say to get out of this ordeal you’ve now thrown yourself into. You get another notification that lights up your phone screen. 

    Be nice to finally meet you 7 tomorrow night sound good? ┗ 

    Sure! 7 sounds good heh ┗ 

   there’s a place not far from where I live I like to go to.. unless there’s somewhere else you wanna go ┗ 

Ugh, why does that sound so… so… desperate? I should probably call it off right now before this gets out of hand. 

   I’ll see you there Doll just name it ┗ 

  Your heart flutters at the nickname. It makes you feel childish and you cringe that you find yourself swooning over it, but every time he uses it, there’s something that makes you feel special. Like you’re the only one he calls that. After you text him the address, you pass the phone away, leaving it to sit on the sink’s edge. Hands cupping your face, the tears still seeping along the rim of your eyes with a fighting intent to be free. For so long you have kept them bottled up. 

  And now to be faced with this. You don’t feel ready to be doing this. Your fingers had been hovering over the keys, mind already texting that you had made a silly joke just to see how he’d react. But Dr. Raynor’s words from earlier that day crept into the forefront of your mind, stopping you in your tracks.

  ‘Being alone is the most quietest and personal hell someone can endure.’

“You haven’t been having nightmares lately. That’s good,” Dr. Raynor says, notebook sitting in absence on her folded leg, pen loose between her fingers. So far, she hasn’t had to write much. A few notes, a sentence or two. Overall, she sees a little more progress. Even if it’s just a little.

  “And the girl you’re talking with. Have you two been communicating much lately? Do you think that, maybe, she could be a benefiting factor?”

  “We’ve been talking,” Bucky answers with a nod, voice rumbly. “I don’t know.”

  “Your nightmares stem from the decades of trauma that still need to be thinned out of your system. And there are outlets that can help with the healing process. Nurturing relationships is one of them.”

  As if he hasn’t heard that line before. Being told to nurture his relationships.

  “Tell me more about her. What’s been going on between you both?” For a moment, Bucky remains quiet. His teeth roll his bottom lip, biting down before his lips part. Gaze once settled elsewhere, his eyes find hers with firm contact. 

  The type of contact she wishes she can see from you.

  “She’s asked to meet up. I’m seeing her tonight.”

  “I understand you two have been talking for a while. Around three months now, correct?”

  “Yeah.”

   “And… How does that make you feel? You finally have a chance to meet someone face to face and take this relationship to the next stage.”

  The question had come right out of the blue for Bucky. After a day out in the field with Sam, all he wanted to do was shower, have a beer and see if you had messaged him. And the conversation had carried out like normal with asking about each other’s day, followed by some playful banter. And then, Bucky was faced with the one topic that had been on his mind for the past few weeks, plaguing him with the idea of possibly meeting each other after all this time, to put a face to a name. 

  But to think that this could bridge into something further. Something far more intimate. Bucky’s shoulders push up with a heavy sigh. 

  “I dunno, Doc. I’ve been thinking about meeting her. But being by myself for so long now, it’s normal for me.”

  Dr. Raynor squares her shoulders, eyes staring point blank like the barrel of a gun at her patient. “A hurdler doesn’t avoid the obstacles. You have to take that leap, James, and explore these new possibilities before they slip through your fingers. From what you’ve told me, she sounds similar to you.”

  “And if things don’t go as I hope? If she pulls away?”

  “Then pull her closer. And give her the chance to pull you closer. Start to trust in someone outside of those walls.”

  You pace back and forth along the wide strip sidewalk, the night’s air chills you through your clothing. But at this point that could just be the nerves. Why did you have to be bold, why did you have to actually listen to Dr. Raynor? Arriving just a little before the agreed time, you took the time to rehearse things over. Maybe squeeze in a little practice before you make a complete idiotic display of yourself. 

  By now, you guess it’s just past 7. How the hell are you supposed to know who he is if you’ve never seen one another before? Man, now that you think about it, you really didn’t think this through. 

  Last time I do any of these fucking exercises…

  Quickly stealing a glance down at your phone to get a read on the time, you see you’ve received no message yet. 

  Maybe he… changed his mind last minute?

  Well that really makes you look like an idiot. Shit, you really could slap yourself into tomorrow for getting baited into your own doings. You barely register the thrumming heart of a motorcycle’s engine roaring down the street beside you, purring lowly to a stop. 

  You shrug to yourself suddenly, the leaping of your heart coaxing your anxiety to grow further, as doubt shrouds over. Your feet shuffle to carry you back in the direction of your favourite ice cream joint. Might as well pick up a little frosty snack on the way back home.

  “Okay, I’m stupid. He’s not— oop–!” Someone is the poor victim of your distracted escape, their body is large and broad, arms circling around you to catch you from tripping onto the hard concrete. 

  “Oh, shit! Sorry!” you groan, eyes quick to seek out a face only to glimpse away as soon as you note the intensity of bright blue; gaze focused solely on you as if you were the only thing that existed. 

  “All good,” he says. His voice only brings to shake you, slightly husky and the oh so perfect pitch. You do your best to straighten yourself and from his hold, out of habit, you’d grown used to not being touched unless you were the one to initiate it. A skill - or rather lack thereof - you’re not very proud of. Not that members of your family made it any easier whenever they pointed it out. 

  Distant. Closed off. Stiff. 

  “You okay?” he asks. 

  “Yeah, yeah, I was… just uh, was meeting up with a guy.”

  “Hmph, me too,” he breezes with a deep exhale. You try to ignore the way your peripheral picks up on his body’s outline moving. “She wanted to meet here.” 

  “Huh, good spot. One of my small hang out spots.” Your balled fists only curl tighter into the pockets of your jacket as another chilling wind attacks your body. Maybe you should settle on a hot beverage instead of some ice cream. 

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. Really nice.”

  You both stand idle by one another, the air beginning to lace heavily with the tension of your interaction, both awkward in your butting spaces. Bucky spares a more studying glance at you. A sleeveless, cropped turtleneck with a leather, hooded jacket layering over, you opted to keep the palette simple with your dark, skinny jeans and heeled boots. 

  You looked dressed up to be on some casual date. Whoever it was you were waiting on was a lucky guy, Bucky thought. In no disrespect to the girl he was messaging, but he figured he would have shot his shot with you had it not been for this mystery girl. 

  “You hang around here a lot?” he questions to come off as casual and laid back as possible. 

  “Oh, sure. Yeah… I like it here.”

  Bucky finds himself smiling at your response. Strange, he figures, how you seem familiar. Still, he catches on that he hasn’t gotten a proper look at your face. It’s like you're purposefully avoiding looking at him. Did you know him? The aided curse of his sensitive hearing allows him to hear the rapid racing of your heartbeat, like a poor hamster terrified out of its mind. 

  You can feel him staring at you with the occasional glimpse down at his phone, held in his gloved hand. 

  “Goodluckwithyourdate. Bye.” You say it far too quickly, it takes Bucky a moment to decipher what you’ve said. His head snaps back and forth in a double take, catching you already walking down the sidewalk, huddled in close to shield yourself. How he knows that feeling internally. 

  Now you���ve gained his full attention. For Bucky, there was some missing piece to all this. He’s quick to type. Just a little experiment…

   Here, Doll, just waiting on you  ┗ 

His jaw tightens, teeth clenching in his observation. You stop when your phone buzzes to life in your pocket. Retrieving it, you read the message. Bucky only has to wait for about a minute before he sees the message. 

   Ha, I was here first. Where are you?? ┗ 

   You tell me Doll…  ┗

    you don’t happen to be wearing knitted gloves, right? ┗  

  Your brows furrow for a moment. How could he know, you haven’t even–

  Slowly, you lift your eyes from the blaring screen of your text messages. He now knew it and to think he’s the guy you were waiting on. If anything, this is some fortunate, golden strike. 

  As your gaze moves to fall over your half turned shoulder that faces back towards him, he manages to catch half of your visage and the radiant haven of your eyes, what little you allow to show. 

  “I take it you’re Y/N.” He smiles a toothy smile. With any luck, his attempt to charm will work. 

  “And you’re Bucky?”

  He nods in response and you let yourself wander forwards, phone tucked away and your arms folded together. 

  “I–I, uh… wow, this is embarrassing,” you all but mutter to yourself with a roll of your eyes.

  “How so?”

  “I suck at meeting people,” you utter a little louder. Your shoulders shrug with the motion of your confession. You only dread the look in those blue eyes that you can’t bring yourself to glance up into. What if you see something that gives away his intentions? What if you give away what’s going on in your own mind to him, for him to see all the fear right there like an open book to be read. Knowledge to be obtained and used against you. 

  “Maybe if you looked at people once and a while,” he chuckles. 

  Oh… he likes someone who can maintain eye contact. 

  “Yeah, what a shame. Oh well, nice meeting you.” 

  The abruptness cuts him. Wounds him like a dark chill that runs his spine. His shoulders straighten then and the bevel between his brows grows in depth, the puzzlement of his confusion evident on his face that you don’t take the time to read. Not when he can easily catch contact with your now glossy eyes. 

  Again, you’re making off in a hurry. 

  Pull her closer, it’s the only thought that crosses his mind. 

  “Wait, wait up!” he calls out quickly, voice sharp that he sees your entire body flinch at the command, but you carry on. He doesn’t want to scare you away. His gloved hand cups over your elbow. 

  “I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he says with a sigh, “I’m bad at meeting people at times too.”

  “Really?” You don’t mean to sound distrusting, if he interpreted it that way, each to their own at the end of the day. 

  “Yeah, that whole… dating scene is crazy these days.”

  You cannot find yourself more inclined to agree with that. Seeing how much the world has changed around you, and you’re only in your twenties. Plenty of more room to change. Thinking about the future is what you consider an anxiety inducing pass time, one you try not to get carried away with. 

  “Tell me ‘bout it,” you huff. You flex your ankle, the heel scuffing softly against the pavement, hopefully grinding some form of inspiration to make you less awkward. Though you fear the damage has been done. 

  He chuckles. “Glad we’re agreeable in person. C’mon, mind giving me a tour of your little hang out?”

  “Sure,” you agree with a small smile, brushing aside a stray wisp of hair, “I know a little place up this way.”

  “I like your gloves,” Bucky says, clicking his tongue, when spared a moment he glances off to the side in his miserable cringe, what the hell was that move?

  But he didn’t expect for your chin to be raised a little higher and a much warmer smile to grace your lips. Wow, he still couldn’t get over it. A cute, beautiful girl like yourself happening to be the one he’s been communicating with all this time. 

  “Thanks.” You suppress a giggle, the sound small in your throat. “Look. Glove twins.”

  Seeing you raise your gloved hand up, he saves you from any further embarrassment and meets yours almost immediately, palms straight and pressed together in a mockery to a high five. 

  “Well, look at that.” His lips tug into an amused grin.

  For a second you meet his gaze, but as quick as anything, the connection is lost. As you drop your hand back to your side, you feel warmth creep into your cheeks. How your lack of eye contact can be a burden at times. All you want to do is look at this guy, get a read of him without the need to sneak fleeting glances whenever you could. 

  All you can settle on now is that he’s down right cute. Handsome. 

  No way this guy is single. How some chick could just give him a false number. My number. 

  You wander further down the street together, side by side, occasionally arms brushing against one another before you stop and jab a thumb at the small bar. “Here it is. Heh, quaint place. I, uh… like coming here. Obviously.”

  While he’s distracted with his observation, you take a few seconds to actually look at him.

  Casually dressed, so much like yourself. Chiselled features, intense yet stunning eyes you believe you’ve ever seen, and broad. Damn well towering high above you. Next to him, you feel like a gummy bear. Why that comparison, you have no idea, but you find it fitting. 

  Thus so far he doesn’t put himself as intentionally dangerous or harmful, not towards you anyway. You’d bet all that’s in your wallet he’d cause some serious damage if he wanted to. 

  “Nice little joint.” You hum softly and nod in agreement, eyes sinking low to instead scan the fabric of his jacket instead of his reaction when you know his gaze is on you. 

  You bob your head in the direction of the door, indicating him to follow you inside. But Bucky, if anything, was raised in the century of etiquette and manners. Especially in the company of a woman. Your smaller, gloved hand reaches for the door until his own comes forward, pulling the door open for you. 

  “After you, Doll.”

  “Oh. Thanks.”

  Again, that warm crimson settles in your cheeks, causing the rest of your body to heat up, soon enough you won’t need the gloves and jacket to keep you warm. 

You lead him over to a window booth, sliding in over the overworn cushions and he takes the one opposite you. Not too soon after does the regular waitress greet you with a pearly smile, blonde hair tied back into a ponytail. 

  “Y/N!” she gasps widely, “So good to see you. What can I get you and your man tonight?” She flashes a wink down towards you both. Out of sheer interest, Bucky’s eyes drift to land on you, the corner of his lips turned up slightly into a smirk. 

  “Wh– he, oh no, he’s not– we’re not… just the regular, thanks.”

  Tongue tied. You fucking hate situations that plant you on the spot, on your arse. Like an ungraceful landing after jumping the wagon. Fuck, you’re making yourself look even more weird in front of him. Why this sudden need to act like a normal human being around him is present, you find it confusing. But from trial and error, you’ve always somehow managed to mark yourself as a strange one. 

  It was better to keep things short between interactions. But with Bucky, something has come over you that makes you want to trust him. Be open with him. But you know you can’t. People can hide their true nature for lengths at a time that they deem necessary. You’re not about to give this guy a loaded gun to turn on you. 

  With a nod, the waitress writes down in her notepad then looks to Bucky expectantly. 

  “I’ll have what she’s having and can we get two beers with the order.” 

  “Can do. That will be with you both shortly.” With another affirmative nod, the waitress heads off to deliver the new order. 

  “If you just want to dip any time during… this, then I understand.” For the second time tonight, Bucky’s face contorts with deeply rooted confusion. His smile is the product of his being unsure whether you’re serious or joking. “Why would I do that?”

  Your shoulders move up sharply with a shrug. 

  Because you don’t want to be around me. 

  “I’m not leaving you by yourself. You asked to meet up and I’m here.” 

  Touching words that you wish to believe in them wholeheartedly. Surely though, he’s only saying that out of courtesy. 

  “I tend to stay out pretty late towards the weekend.”

 Now it’s his turn to shrug. “So do I.”

  Once the food and beers arrived, you found it easier to distract yourself, able to roll the bottle between your hands, feeding off of your meal bit by bit throughout conversation. 

  “Like I said before, don’t feel obligated to stay out late. Don’t want to keep your girl waiting.” A small tactic, albeit you disbelieve that it’s very discreet, it’s an obvious tell that you want to know if he’s single or not. You’re no expert in the dating pool but that just has to be right up there in some top ten listed prompts.

 “Not leaving you. I don’t have a girl waiting on me, don’t worry, Doll.” You almost choke on your next bite, drowning it down your throat with a gulp of beer. You almost meet his eyes, opting to focus just below them. There is absolutely no way in hell this guy is single. 

  Bucky figures he’d shoot his shot, now that the identity of mystery girl and you were one and the same. 

  “Hope your boyfriend doesn’t mind I’m stealing you for the night.”

   Why did he word it like that?!

  “Ha. Boyfriend,” you sigh, mouth pinching towards the side. Briefly, you notice the furrow in his brows. 

  Dammit, why is he so fucking cute?

  “No boyfriend,” he drawls lowly over the rim of his bottle. 

  You shake your head. “Nope.” 

  He can tell by the way you roll the singular word, emphasising the p with a sharp popping sound. Bitterness. 

  “Why?” He watches you intently as he takes a drink of his beer, meanwhile, you're turning your bottle left and right, like trying to crack the code to some safe. 

  Didn’t want to risk getting hurt. 

  “Just…” You pause with a heavy sigh, heat covers your eyes that you now direct to stare down at the table. “Never made the effort, if I’m honest.”

  “You like being alone.”

  “Prefer it, actually. Easier that way.”

  Of that, Bucky completely understands. After everything he’s been through, being alone has just made things simple. Lonely but simpler. He notices the many couples and maybe it would be nice to have someone there. But how can he find normalcy after everything he’s done? Is he deserving of it?

  He wants peace. Dr. Raynor believes that’s bullshit but she can’t understand that he wants peace for himself. To feel comfortable. Accepted. Perhaps loved, if any deity or supernatural entity from above condones it.

  But then, why are you so comfortable in your loneliness? He wonders about it.

  “My doctor keeps telling me to try and engage with people. Open up. That sort of shit.” 

  “Mine too.”

  Another funny coincidence you both find in each other. During your time talking over text, you both managed to find out you attended doctor appointments. Therapy and not by your own choice either. By some other force that dictated you needed help. 

  “People are so afraid of being alone these days. World’s dangerous, sure, but so are the people you thought you could trust. But people are desperate, I guess. They’ll risk it.”

    Bucky cannot help the way the corner of his eyes curl slightly, lips stretching into a pursed smile to contain his amusement as much as possible. 

  “What?” you ask, head tilting slightly, your eyes having now settled on the booth’s texture right over his shoulder. 

  He shakes his head, chuckling to himself. “You often on the defensive when it comes to people?”

  “Have to be. Don’t know their intentions. Could be anything.”

  “And what about me?”

  You shrug again, gaze torn between meeting his and keeping it far, far away. “Like you said before, if I looked at people once and a while. But I can’t. So I’ll never know, I guess.”

  He frowns slightly at this. If your body language is telling him anything right now is that his question pushed you into a corner. You felt trapped when confronted by his curiosity. You didn’t answer him, not exactly, but if your response did anything it’s that you tend to avoid answering when you get pushed. 

  You don’t seem to be the overly aggressive type up front. But if backed into that corner, that is when you may very well lash out. A defensive tactic. A once victim tactic. 

  Both of you are pulled from the thicket of your scattered thoughts and silence when the waitress returns with the check. You begin to shuffle around in your pocket, obtaining your half of the meal when Bucky stops you. 

  “My treat,” he says and hands his money to the blonde worker. 

  “N-no, that’s okay. I’m fine with paying my side.”

  He tuts you with a shake of his head, eyes penetrating your very soul for the moment you meet it. 

  Don’t look at me like that please… heart’s going too fast. Just let me pay for my food. 

  “I was born and raised in a time that I pay for the date. Let me cover it.” 

  Not that you have much choice to argue. He’d already handed off the money and the waitress took away your finished plates and beers. 

  Your bottom lip curls outwards into a pout. You feel bad that he felt like he had to do that. For him to pay out more than what was required. 

  In that regard, he leans back slightly, chin held higher a little more. He believes he’s won this round. But if anything, you’re adamant to pay him back.

  “Here.” You slide the bill towards him, ignoring the way his eyes narrow slightly to your challenge. “Just accept it, please? I’ll feel better knowing I didn’t waste your money.”

  Reluctantly, he nods and accepts the money and you mumble a soft thanks. 

    Time flew by as you both wandered together, giving him a general tour of the area. Small bouts of banter passed between you both, and general topics of discussion like work and time passers were made to fill the void of silence. Even still, you kept everything at surface level, never really exploring any deeper thoughts, much like him. But those very rare glimpses were only brief glimpses into one another’s life. 

  At least you both could report to your respective doctors that you tried, still in the dark that Dr. Raynor was the host of your separate appointments. 

  Coming through the way you came you reach your initial meeting spot, the sidewalk more open with people now on their way back home at the later hour. 

  “No, Sam just talks too much,” Bucky grumbles in his chuckle, an amused grin forming on your lips. He could just make out the rows of teeth. 

  “Sounds like a fun guy.”

  “Definitely.” You hear the grumbling breathlessness in his tone. When he glimpses to his side he finds your eyes, quick to steal whatever he can get of those capturing colours that are far too swift to avert. 

  Fuck. Can’t even make it to five seconds. I’m getting nowhere with this eye contact exercise.

Following him, he leads you over to his bike and your eyes narrow curiously. So it was him that owned the motorcycle you heard earlier that evening. 

  “I guess this is where we part ways for the night.” You bounce your head in the direction of your place. “Was good finally meeting you, Bucky.”

  That didn’t sit well with him. A lot can happen on the walk back to your place and he didn’t feel completely ready to let you go for the night. Eyes tearing between you and his bike with quick thinking, he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. He hoists a leg over his bike, straddling the seat and rolling his arm to beckon you closer. 

  “Why don’t we go for a quick ride? Then I’ll drop you home.”

  “Nah, besides I’ve never… I-I’m good. I like the walk home.”

  Bucky is quickly picking up a sort of pattern. Still, he can’t shake the need to just hang around you a little longer, nor the guilt he’d have for just leaving you. Chivalry at its finest, he shakes his head sternly, dismounting the bike, you see the way his body moves fluently with the action.

  Fucking stop doing that!

  Your mind is dancing two different dances. Rational thought and that bubbly, giddiness that often leads swooning victims into blinded trouble. 

  “Alright, we’ll walk together then.” 

  “Wait– you can’t just leave your–”

  He begins to lead you off in the direction you’d motioned to before. “I’ll come back for it.”

  “Bucky.” He sees the defiant pout and crossing of your arms. Indeed, a cute sight to behold.

  He smirks, and shit, you couldn’t meet anything above the bridge of his nose then, but did you admire what you could. 

  “It’s your call. We can either walk or take the bike.”

  He’s played a few rounds of this game already with you. Numerous times you’ve had to choose between one option or the other, a few of those being a tad embarrassing, but his assurance provided some semblance of comfort. 

  But what felt like a game before now feels like more than that now. Before it was fun, easy and not serious. This, however, was not a round you can simply forfeit from. It’s either option one or two. 

  Your chest expands with a large inhale. Blinking, you contemplate and weigh the options. “We’ll take the bike.” 

  “Don’t worry, I’ll make a rider out of you, Doll.” It didn’t help the flush that scorches and freezes your body simultaneously when he adds a wink to his witty flirtations. 

  You try to not let it get to you. Not to let goosebumps riddle your skin and send your nerves endings aflame. But he’s making it hard. He leads you back towards the bike and he grabs the helmet. 

  “Here, you can use this.” 

  You focus on the protective helm and though you mean to protest, worried about what he’d do about himself, he’s already tucking your head in. 

  You make a small noise as he wriggles it in place and through the visor, you can finally meet his eyes. 

  With the blacked out visor to shield your eyes, you finally and truly admire the - unfortunately muted - hue of blue that entrances you, intense as the hottest levelled flame. He’s smiling down at you.

  “How’s it fit?”

  “Good!” you call, giving him a thumbs up. He nods with that assurance and directs you to mount the bike behind him. But you’re going shy on him and he cocks his head slightly, brows knitted in their concern. 

  Even when you preferred to be the one to initiate contact, that didn’t mean you were used to or fond of it. What if you held him too tightly, or what if you touched him somewhere he wasn’t comfortable with.

  Mounting the bike behind him, you at first put about an inch or two of space between you both. “Get on closer.” 

  You fail to hide the mousey squeak when his hands pull at your thighs, tugging them forward until they rest against him, your hands find purchase on the broad space of his shoulders. 

  He does it cautiously, he seeks out your wrists when they slide down the scape of his back, and you - warily - let him pull them around his torso. He exhales slowly, giving himself a second to comprehend having your hold around him. Why does he feel this way? Now that he has you like this, he can’t bear to think about losing it.

  “Hold on tight now,” he instructs and with a heavy bob of your head, thanks to the helmet, he lets the engine purr to life and he feels your arms grow a little tighter. 

  Rolling the bike back a little, he lets a car pass by before he speeds off down the way, the bike’s roar pulses through your entire body until for sure you’ve gone numb and you only hold onto Bucky tighter. 

  The surge of adrenaline fills you until you’re on high, blood boiling hot in your veins as he flies through the traffic. For taking things usually at your own pace, it felt good to have a little speed kick in. 

  Taking a sudden turn to the left would have made you question your decision to take the bike - should have scared you - but it didn’t. Not with Bucky. For what feels like ages now, you feel that you can trust him.

  “How you doing back there?” he asks, straining his voice to yell over the bike’s power. You doubt very much he’d be able to hear you, not when you only just managed to hear him, you opt to nod your head vigorously. He feels it against the muscles of his back and his lips tug upwards. 

  Accelerating slightly more, he feels your body grow giddy, jostling a little as you laugh behind him while he weaves through traffic. It really shows that you’ve never been on a bike before now. And since that’s the case, he’s determined to make it an unforgettable experience. 

  With any wishful thinking, you’ll want to go for another ride with him. 

  Bucky puts the now overwhelmed engine to rest for a little while, all thanks to his plan to impress you. “Here we are.” He lets his eyes rake over the few story building, a little settlement of apartments, currently parked round back that shows a short paved walkway to your backdoor. Going through the front door was usually hectic with your neighbours, good people honestly, but after a tiring day it could get a bit much.

  This way, you could be left alone. 

  “This is me,” your voice says through the helmet. You dismount before him and unlike Bucky, your movements aren’t as well versed. But for him, that just adds to your charm. 

  You let him stand close to you as he retrieves his helmet, being gentle to pry it off. 

 Once that visor is gone, so too does your resolve to look into his eyes, the connection lost with the helmet’s absence.

  “Thanks for driving me home. I… had a good time.”

  “You’re welcome.” Bucky’s lips thin into a smile. This was it then, the end of your little outing together. He doesn’t want to come off strong but how can he be so sure that you’ll be so bold again? How long would he have to wait?

  That’s why he’s pulling you closer again. It may be scary but at this point, he’s willing to risk it, if it means to have another meeting with you. To see you again.

  “Well, goodnight Bucky. I’ll talk to you—” You’d only begun to turn towards the narrow walkway when you’re stopped. Pulled back until you’re practically flushed against Bucky’s front. He’s pressing something into the palm of your hand. Thin, like paper. Peering down, you see the bill you’d given him. 

  However, you don’t have any other choice when his other hand tilts your chin up. 

  Oh no.

  “Give me five seconds,” he breathes out, voice hopeful. Your chin trembles, only just able to look at him through your lashes, but even then your focus dives downward, but his fingers remain to keep your head from bowing. 

  “I-I can’t…”

  “You can. Take your time.”

  Why he’s doing this, you have no clue, and why he’s willing to be patient; it’s just downright confusing. Who in their right mind would have time for this? At times, you barely have enough time to deal with your own shit.

  To save himself from waiting for a literal eternity, you rip the bandaid, and you meet his eyes. No visor, no secretive glimpses here and there stolen. You stare straight up, right into those blues that can very well drown you. 

  Your lungs tighten and struggle to maintain a steady pattern, you feel the welling of tears glass over your eyes with each second you count. Slowly. 

  One… two… 

  His eyes remain gentle with you. Tender and kind. You’re not seeing anything… bad, like he wants to hurt you. he could be hiding it really well. But for yourself, you’re sure he can see every single rational and irrational fear, every painful memory in your teary eyes. Your vision begins to cloud, like the fight to stay above the crashing waves. 

  Three… four…

  Buck’s hand lowers slowly but you don’t register it. You can’t. It’s something that occurs in the background, unattuned to it. You see in those wonderfully coloured hues that he's just as haunted as you are or even more. 

  He’s lonely as you are. Afraid as you are. Shadows of his own past, you can see them. Made him into the person he is in front of you. And you can’t blame him, no matter what it is that haunts him. 

  You see a once victim in him just as much as you see in the mirror every morning. 

  “Same time next Friday?” he asks, his voice is low, almost a whisper. His chest expands as he holds his breath. 

  “Sure.” You share a smile between you two, cheeks glowing warm and bright red. 

  “I’ll pick you up.” 

  Him leaving the proximity of your personal space leaves you gasping for air, blinking the tears in your eyes rapidly, you watch him retreat to his bike. Until next Friday, you’d wait to see him then. 

  “Talk soon, Doll,” he calls out with a wave once he’s atop his vehicle. Looking at it now, you can still feel the vibrations in your legs. 

  “Mhm. Until then.” 

  You take your leave then, entering your apartment and shutting the door behind you in tandem with him riding off into the night. Planting your back against the door to ground you does little to affect, still you’re floating. 

  This new feeling welling inside your chest, a flutter in your stomach… It scares you. Is this feeling why people are afraid to be alone? You don’t know what to think. 

  All you do know is that you gave him ten seconds.

THANKS FOR READING!

✎ a note from the author, I dunno what to really say about this piece, brain just switched into angsty, (kinda fluffy?) writing mode and I went with it.

on this issue's taglist, we've got: @identity2212 @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @mostlymarvelgirl

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

I Need You To

Casey Novak x autistic!fem!reader Warnings: pure fluffy fluff, established relationship, injury, hospital, coming to terms with a disability, insinuations of sex Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: After a serious injury, you're diagnosed with a disability that inhibits your day-to-day life. There are accessibility tools you can use, but you're self-conscious about using them out and about. Your girlfriend, Casey, is there for you every step of the way.

"Hey, Case, can you grab my glove?" you called, double-knotting the laces of your cleats. You were jittery with excitement. It was your first softball game since last October, when you'd broken your ankle running to first. And then played through it. And then fallen again and slammed your head into the ground and passed out. You'd woken up in an ambulance with a teary and terrified Casey grasping your hand so hard she almost cut off circulation. She was livid when she found out later that you'd been hurt and kept playing.

But you were better now. Well... mostly better. At the emergency room after the game, the doctor had examined your x-ray, MRI, and EEG results.

"It looks like you've broken this bone in your ankle before?" he said, frowning.

"I have."

Casey whipped her head around to look at you, her eyebrows a question mark. The doctor stared at you pointedly.

"How many times exactly?" he asked.

You felt yourself shrinking under Casey's hard gaze. "Uh... this ankle? Three times."

"In how long?"

"The, uh... the last five years."

Casey's jaw dropped and you winced. You were gonna get an earful on the way home.

"What about the other ankle?"

You felt like you were digging yourself a deeper and deeper grave.

"Twice."

"Any other broken bones? In the last five years?"

You listed them off, trying to avoid Casey's eyes.

"My thumb, my wrist, a toe or two."

"Any falls with seemingly no cause?"

"Yeah."

"How many?"

You glanced furtively at Casey. "More than I can count."

The doctor nodded and asked you a few more questions. Casey sat beside you, fuming, as you answered.

At the end of the visit, you had two crutches, a boot cast, some heavy-duty pain meds for your concussion, and a referral to a genetics clinic.

"I think you might have Ehlers-Danlos syndrome," the doctor had said.

Casey googled the condition all the way home.

"Y/N, this is serious," she said earnestly, supporting you as you hobbled through the door of your apartment.

"I don't know. None of that stuff you said about it sounded too bad. I'm just super flexible, basically."

Casey rolled her eyes at you. "Yeah, and apparently break every bone in your goddamn body on a regular basis."

When you were scared, you froze. You always froze. Casey did not. Casey made sure you scheduled your genetics appointment. She made sure you went. And when the geneticist confirmed the Ehlers-Danlos diagnosis, she was the one who asked what things you could do to help the condition, while you stayed silent, anxious and overwhelmed.

You just wanted everything to go back to normal. So what if you broke a bone more frequently than everyone else? It was no big deal.

"It is a big deal if it keeps you from doing things you love," Casey argued on the way home. "And if there are things you can to do to get better, you should do them."

"I guess so," you conceded, staring out the window of the cab.

"Y/N," she said, gently grabbing your face and turning it towards her when you didn't answer.

"Why can't you just let it be, Casey?" you whispered.

"Because you deserve to live the best life." She looked at you so intensely you had to look away. "You deserve to live without fucking breaking a bone every year. You deserve to play softball if you want to and run if you want to and not look at the fucking ground the whole time when we're on a hike because you're so scared you're gonna fall and break something."

You glanced at her, surprised and a little ashamed. "I didn't know you noticed that..."

"You love being outside. I'm gonna notice if you're looking at tree roots instead of a mountain vista. I just didn't know why."

You looked away, anxious about the Ehlers-Danlos. Anxious about what you'd have to do to make it better. Anxious that all those things wouldn't make it better in the end, would all be for nothing.

"Hey," she said wrapping an around you and planting a kiss on the side of your head. "We're gonna figure this out, okay?"

You nodded and exhaled quietly. "Okay."

Now, after months of healing and then more months of physical therapy, you were finally cleared to get back out on the field. You couldn't play catcher anymore—unnecessary strain on your ankle and knee joints, the physical therapist said. But you'd been practicing playing third base with Casey, and you'd grown to enjoy it almost as much as playing catcher.

"Casey, come on!" you yelled, tapping your foot on the floor. "We're gonna be late!"

Casey sauntered in, team uniform on, softball bag slung over her shoulder.

"I put your glove in the bag," she said, then dropped a pair of AFOs in front of you. "Put 'em on."

You hated them. You hated the way they looked, like some kind of plastic, kiddie Forrest Gump contraption. You hated that they altered the way you walked, the ease with which you could run and twist and reach.

You shook your head. "You know, I don't think I need them. I've been doing the exercises and stuff. My joints are stronger now."

"Y/N." Her voice was forceful as she squatted down in front of you. "Put. On. The AFOs."

"No," you said, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. "I'm telling you, I don't need them." You stood, making a move toward the door.

The pure, physical fact of the matter was that Casey was bigger and stronger than you. She didn't manhandle you often, but she did now. She grabbed your shoulders and shoved you back down onto the chair, huffing as she pulled off one cleat and then the other.

Now you were both mad.

"Casey, it's my fucking decision," you argued, trying to wrench your foot from her grip as she slipped the AFO over your softball sock. "I don't want to wear them! I hate wearing them!"

"I need you to!" she yelled, her face flushed, looking at the ground.

You watched her, your anger dissipating as you saw the worry in her eyes.

"I need you to," she repeated, softer this time. "I don't want to carry your body off the fucking field again."

You were both silent and still for a moment, Casey's hand resting on your leg, yours running gently through her hair.

Casey resumed her work on the AFOs, gently pulling on one and then the other, tightening the Velcro straps, forcing your cleats over them. You let her.

"There," she said, looking up at you. "Was that so bad?"

You hadn't worn the AFOs out yet, not where people could see them. You always had on sweatpants or joggers or jeans, something that covered them up. But with your softball shorts on, everyone would be able to see.

You avoided Casey's eyes, your hands shaking at your sides.

"Y/N," she sang, taking your hands gently in hers and flattening them, massaging the stress out.

"I look stupid," you whispered, trying not to cry. "Everyone's gonna make fun of me."

She cupped your face in her hands, looking earnestly into your eyes. "No one's gonna make fun of you, sweetheart." She brushed her thumb along your cheekbone. "And if they do, I'll kick their asses."

You nodded, still slumped in the chair.

"I think you look hot," Casey added, grinning slightly.

You rolled your eyes at her. "Yeah. Sure you do."

"I do," she nodded, moving her hands to your hips and planting kisses from your collarbone up to your neck. "In like a... cyborg, Inspector Gadget kind of way."

"What?!" you said, laughing. "That's so dumb."

She finally made her way to your lips, and the warmth of them took your breath away, made your stomach flutter.

"You know what's really hot about them, though?"

"What?" you replied, following her out the door.

She kissed you one more time for good measure. "It's one more thing I get to take off of you afterward."

You smiled, blushing. Maybe the AFOs weren't so bad after all.

[schizochroal]

I think, right now if you're a transfem or trans woman, with any sort of income and address, in the US right now, who wants to go on hrt but for whatever reason you are waiting, I think you should seriously reconsider that. DIYing is still relatively accessible, and along with estrogen, while Spiro isn't the best anti-androgen it does the job for most people and is dirt cheap and easy to get. If you live somewhere and have the insurance or other means to afford it, I'd also recommend pursuing official medical hrt as well, but keep in mind that depending on restrictions put in place in the future, you might need to switch to DIYing. That being said, starting officially and then switching to DIY after a certain point really isn't that bad at all, hormone testing and stuff becomes much less important after the first couple of years. If you have insurance (and the right kind) , it could be basically free for you to pursue the official route, if ur insurance won't pay for it the doctors appointments will be expensive but you probably won't be spending more than 20$ a month for your hrt, assuming you go for something like Spiro as an anti-androgen. Even if you art totally DIYing , you're still probably not going to be spending more than a 30$ or so dollars a month for hrt, and I know it's possible to pay way less than that depending on some factors.

I live somewhere with pretty high food costs, so for me that kinda cost is the difference between say getting eating like just some rice and beans or something a couples nights in a month instead of getting fast food or whatever. Tbh most of the people I know are pretty poor by American standards, but still make random purchases on stuff like food , video games, clothes, caffeine, weed, etc. that are a lot more than they would need to pay for hrt even at full DIY prices.

Like if you're holding off for financial or other reasons, I think you really should seriously consider whether those reasons are worth continuing to put it off when in all likelihood beginning hrt is only gonna get harder in the future, and every year you wait is another year you could instead spend living the life you actually want.

Starting is always scary, but like nothing about HRT is instantaneous, depending on ur hair and fashion you can probably guarantee that u can still fly under the radar for at least a year after starting hrt, potentially a lot longer. And a year is a long time to figure out if uve jumped the gun and it really would be better for you to wait, and for the most part it takes a long time for any non-reversible changes to happen (other than maybe some breast growth, but like plenty of cis guys have gynecomastia, it's not that big of a deal). But the only way you're going to be able to find that out is if you start. And honestly, outside of some very specific individuals, I think for most of us there is not going to be another, better time to start her anytime in the near future!

[goron-king-darunia]

Eggtober 3rd, 2024

"Anxieties and Anger" Fried Egg in Monochrome

(Krita, soft chalk default brush, 10 colors/values of red, 20 minutes.)

Inspired by life kicking my ass recently. A bunch of things didn't go right this year, I got sick for the first time in years, and I've just generally been dealing with being unwell, anxious, busy, and all around not managing well. I'm trying to take better care of my health, but it's difficult to make time and track down help because the earlier part of the year was all insurance nonsense, and now it's trying to pin down doctors that take my insurance. My dentist did make an appointment decision for me, which was actually helpful since I kept putting it off due to other stressors. But I haven't been in for a physical lately and I'm having emergent symptoms along with stuff I've been putting off getting looked at or considered. I am wondering if I should start treating my ADHD again, among many other things.

It's just hard to cope with the realities of adult life sometimes, especially with ADHD, and it's frustrating having to manage so much. Life stops for no-one, and certainly there are people dealing with more than me, some even better than I am dealing with my own problems, but it makes it no less frustrating. I wish it was easier to just ask all my dumb anxious questions and not get billed for things that aren't treatable problems. I don't know how true it will be with my new doctor, but with my old doctor, you could get billed extra for bringing up new things that the appointment was not about which is wild to me. What do you mean it basically has to be a different appointment for all 15 new things I'm worried about even if they're probably nothing?!

It doesn't help much that medicine really is such a new and wiggly field of science. It doesn't feel like it is, because we have so many sophisticated medicines and machines for caring for so many things now. But it wouldn't take doctors decades of study to be good doctors if just anyone could tell the difference between "that perfectly normal mole and a really sneaky melanoma" or "that symptom could just be stress-induced and will go away if you calm down" versus "you are actively dying of a disease that's incurable because you waited 1 day too long" or "you literally have a known vitamin deficiency and this symptom will improve with supplements" versus "this symptom is actually new and while it can happen because of your vitamin deficiency, you're actually having a more serious problem."

Of course I'm one of those idiots that goes to Dr. Google for things and then freaks myself out over nothing. But the fact remains that I don't make time to see my doctor enough. And I should. So I will try to do that moving forward.

Whatever happens, I'm doing my best to make time to enjoy Eggtober. It's one of the few things I do for fun as a little "just because" and it's helping me take my mind off things for a bit.

Hoping to see my new PCP soon and start handling my body and health, and with luck, other things will improve bit by bit. There are other things that can't be solved that easily, but without a healthy body, I'm never gonna tackle everything life has decided to throw at me. Wish me luck!

Tagging @quezify as customary, and also because apparently Tumblr is having a bug where art won't show up in the tags without a transparent bar of pixels in it because Tumblr is a functional website...

[suzukiblu]

WIP Wednesday Game

Taken from @kedreeva.

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

file names:

omegaverse nursing

feral omega murder-nanny Jason and pup Damian in the League

Krypton lives and Kara did not sign up for this

Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good!

YJ accidental baby acquisition

snippet from "YJ accidental baby acquisition":

"Thank you," Tim says, dropping the swab into the evidence bag. Kenley eyes him sourly for a last long moment, then makes a point of looking at Vic instead. Tim feels distinctly ignored. 

That's definitely not because Kenley's stopped seeing him as a potential threat, he knows, and can't help suspecting it's that they trust Kon more than they don't trust him. 

Or they think Kon's going to be easier to manipulate than the rest of them, given the clone factor, and–

"You're doing good, Kenley," Kon says, giving Kenley another gentle little squeeze. Tim remembers, again, how quickly he had that name to hand. "Want a lollipop or something after this? Gar's probably got some kicking around if Bart doesn't.” 

"Why?" Kenley asks. 

"This is basically your first doctor's appointment," Kon says reasonably. "Lollipops are traditional, right?" 

". . . hm," Kenley says, brow just barely creasing assessingly. 

"Kon, they've never eaten anything in their life and you want to start them off with candy?" Cassie asks, putting her hands on her hips and looking exasperated by the idea. 

"Yeah," Kon replies with a shrug. "Tasting stuff for the first time is really overwhelming, simpler flavors are easier to start with. Not gonna want to order them paneer right now, you know? Maybe get them some of those bottled smoothies to start, actually, on that note. I puked the first couple times I tried eating and I'm pretty sure my teenage stomach was more capable of handling solid food than a kindergarten one is gonna be. Plus sugar tastes good, and Kenley should get to taste something good for their first time." 

"Oh, uh, good idea," Cassie says, blanching slightly. Tim empathizes with the urge to backpedal on saying the wrong thing here. Deeply empathizes. He's not sure it would've even occurred to him to make sure that Kenley's first experience with taste was a positive one or that they might have trouble with solid food right off the bat, himself. 

Kon's "ours" comment is both making more and more sense and also is probably for the best, at this point. 

“What flavor do you wanna try?” Bart asks Kenley, peering curiously at them. “Wonder Girl's favorite is cherry and mine's orange and Robin's is green apple, so you might like one of those or you could try–” 

“Mango,” Kenley says, burying their face in Kon's chest and gripping his jacket again. 

. . . that's Kon's favorite, Tim knows. 

And he'd be a lot less concerned by that choice if Bart had actually mentioned that fact. Especially because mango is a much, much more specific and unusual candy flavor than something like grape or lemon.

[gogodollie]

There’s not much stuff about possession in the Ghost fandom but I think there’s a really big opportunity for it to be peak romance for Sister Imperator/Papa Nihil (especially towards the end of her life)

The first time it happened, around when Nihil first became a ghost, it was purely an accident. Maybe the two were arguing about what to do with Copia and what to expect from him but Nihil happened to step through her- only he stepped into her. It’s invasive and weird and both of them are absolutely horrified at what’s happened and instantly move to fix it (struggling in the process and ultimately having to go to Psaltarian for help). Nihil agrees without debate to not let it happen again and keeps as much distance as he needs to but they figure that it’s more of a purposeful thing (assuming the original time Was an accident but tensions were a little high and led to the possession incident).

Sister Imperator walking around dealing with whatever illness she had going on, all on her own and trying to keep copia away, ultimately leaving her to deal with it quietly and unable to ask for help. Sure, Nihil is there at her side during the countless doctors appointments and flare ups when things get bad but it’s not like he can actually do anything about it- hell, her doctors have even considered a psych evaluation after hearing her talk to “herself” when they’ve left the room. They both know how this will end and the inevitability of death, Imperator has made her peace with this especially after Nihil’s death those years ago but damn does it have to be such a lengthy process? Nihil can’t do anything to help other than be by her side through it all, just the way that she was through the years when his health started declining. Sometimes the presence and company just has to be enough, he knows that it’s all he can provide- unless….?

Nihil hasn’t bothered to explore much of his abilities in his new… form. Body? Entity of sorts. He’s worked out the basics like eating and sleeping and that’s been enough for him until now, as he’s watching Sister struggle with the tasks that she’d always take such pride in and he’d give anything to help. And then he remembers the possession incident but it takes time for him to bring it up to her. He remembers how shaken she was by it and doesn’t want to overstep, especially when she’s busy trying to handle band management and planning her own funeral all at once. But finally, he works up the nerve to suggest it. It’s less so a suggestion than it is a blurted offer when he sees her hunched over her shower vanity trying to catch her breath one morning and offers to take it on for her instead. Nihil swears he’ll take care of her and that they’ll stop immediately, all she has to do is say the word and he’ll be gone. Imperator is hesitant but a sharp twinge of pain has her slowly nodding, saying she’ll give him one chance to get it right.

For Nihil who hasn’t had a corporeal form in years, it’s a bit overwhelming having all these senses back at this intensity especially after losing a good deal of them towards the end of his own life. Papa can handle the lingering pain and aches, remembers it well another from the end of his life and in some way, he welcomes it- helps him feel as alive as he can be at this point and knowing that it’s for Sister’s sake, he’s even more willing to take her pain and make it his own.

And for Sister Imperator? It’s all a breath of fresh air. there’s a searing pain in her left eye where nihil’s blessed eye would be but it’s small headache compared to her aches that she’s passed onto Nihil to manage. She can hear Nihil in whatever place she’s lost in inside her own head, warm and exhausted but a lingering consciousness as she’s a bystander to her own actions while Nihil is playing puppeteer. Imperator is fading as she finally finds the comfort to rest, falling into memories of nodding off in her old convertible with the hood down and a sun-flushed face. It’s the peace that she’s needed for god knows how long.

Nihil gets to work immediately, knows how strict she is about her work and following her daily schedule. It’s all like second nature to him. After spending 55 years at her side, how could it not be? He practically knows her better than himself at this point and he can’t ever imagine that being a bad thing. Nihil is oh-so-gentle with her body as if he’s doing these things for her rather than to her- carefully sitting her body on the floor of the shower to give her the chance to rest more as he washes her hair and lets muscle memory guide him through the motions of her morning. He’s perched up at her vanity table, carefully applying the same eye and lip makeup that she’s done for the past 30 years. Pulls her hair back into a simple ponytail because he still can’t fathom how she does most of the hairstyles she manages to wear on a regular basis. Nihil follows her routine to a certain degree, inclined to swap out her nice slacks for a skirt she hasn’t worn in years and maybe a pair of low mary janes to let her feet rest from the stress of constantly wearing heels (and also to ensure he doesn’t trip in them). Maybe he’ll search her jewelry box for a pair of earrings that he bought her years ago as a solstice gift, something expensive that she only wears on special occasions because they don’t match her regular uniform at work.

Papa makes sure to attend whatever meetings and attends to whatever phone calls she has planned for the day but avoids taking on too much of her paperwork- knows that she likes it done in a certain way and doesn’t want to create more work by messing it up the first time around. Nihil tries to avoid Copia for the duration of the day but if the two cross paths, it’s a very awkward correction of “Cardinal- no… Cardi? C. Yes, C.” which leaves Copia with a titled head but a quick “Afternoon, Sister” before he scurries off much to Nihil’s delight. In the back of his- well, imperator’s- mind, he can hear her insisting that he needs to be kinder to Copia, at least when he’s parading around her body like this. Nihil agrees with a huff and roll of the eyes because who is he to argue with her?

At the end of the night, he’ll swap her clothing for a fresh pair of pajamas, something satin that he takes his time running his hands over before pulling it on. Let’s her hair loose and carefully brush it out before finally putting it in a loose braid, just the way she likes it. It’s not until he’s made himself comfortable in bed that he’ll finally leave her body, wants to give her the satisfaction of enjoying her rest without the stress or pains from moving around to prepare for bed. After being in and out of sleep the entire day, Sister doesn’t feel tired at all for the first time in a long time. So, he settles on the sheets beside her. There’s a soft look in her eyes as she’s going on about the paperwork she’ll have to look over tomorrow because Nihil hasn’t bothered with it. He knows it’s meant in a teasing way but can’t shake the sweet gaze and how her hand has fallen close enough to his own so that she can rest the knuckle of her pinkie against the edge of his hand.

The devotion of it all, the intimacy of caring for her like that, of carrying her body with the same pride that she does and offering himself up to take on her pain- they both feel it. It doesn’t need words because the love is there, it always has been.