#and my meds are on the other side of my room and i am very cozy rn so no way i'm getting up to take them rn

[causenessus]

feeling like tumblr is a job BUT IN A GOOD WAY like i sign on after my actual job onto my work (tumblr haikyuu smau writer hobby) computer (my home computer on it's last dying breath) to answer emails (reblog all of my moot's wonderful works) and write up reports (my own chapters LMAO)

[luvvyouforever]

headcanons : med student!abby anderson x liberal arts student!reader ᥫ᭡

content: wlw relationship. modern college au. ramblings of fluff, maybe a touch of angst but nothing heavy. enjoy <3

a/n: my authority for writing this you ask? i'm an english major who gets asked regularly what i am going to do with my degree! also this is my first time writing about abby i just had to get this idea out of my head and on to the screen.

-abby decided at a young age to follow in her father's footsteps and become a doctor as well. she committed herself to studying science and math as a kid and occasionally disregarded her other studies like music, art, and english. she did enough to keep a 4.0 GPA but her heart was in science tournaments, young medical professional groups, and ap bio.

-she got into one of the best schools in the states for medicine and was a stellar student in organic chemistry, anatomy, and neurology. she knew she was going to do great on her MCAT, but unfortunately, she wasn't doing so great in some of her gen ed classes and it was impacting her gpa.

-that was how she found herself in a tutoring center in one of the older buildings on campus that was shockingly different from the science buildings she spent all of her time in. she had an appointment with you, but was so nervous to go and admit that she was having trouble in something as simple as art history or literature or communication.

-when she sat down to have her appointment with you, you immediately calmed her nerves and assured her that there was nothing wrong with needing some help in classes she wasn't comfortable in. you helped her ace her quiz and then she just kept coming in to see you. over and over. until she eventually passed the class with an A and no longer needed your assistance.

-and then, as luck would have it, abby got her own job as a tutor for science courses and who happened to walk in but you! the tutor who helped her pass her own difficult course.

-it was history from there.

-despite abby's commitment to her education, she was always able to carve time out of her schedule to be with you. she loves studying with you and filling up a room in the library with your stuff to prepare for exams together. she takes a whiteboard and writes all of her notes on it while you're rereading historical texts or revising your final paper about a painting abby doesn't really quite understand.

-she never makes you feel less than for not studying something "more difficult" as people have before. she loves hearing about your passions for history or writing stories or creating art. she'll come with you to art galleries and try to input her own thoughts from time to time about what she thinks certain pieces mean.

-she understands that graduate school applications are just as important to you as medical school applications are for her. you'll do practice interviews with each other and try on outfits for each other.

-abby will not stand for someone making fun of you for your choice of studies. you two once went to a family gathering on abby's side and when some of her family members began interrogating you on how you're going to get a job and even imply that you'll be living off of abby for your whole life, she gets all up in their face and comforts you later! you will not be sending birthday wishes to those family members anymore and she can guarantee that.

-if you guys get accepted in to schools that are long-distance from each other, you'll absolutely make it work. abby is so methodical that she'll never forget to text you and plans out times that either of you can visit.

-if you ever dedicate a piece that you've created in school to her, she'll positively swoon. like if you wrote a poem about her, she would print it out and pin it up on the fridge. if you painted her, she would hang it up on the wall. and she's the best model for those things too

-i imagine that dinners with your colleagues or friends are very random. abby has but a few friends in her residency and they're each as professional as her. you, however, come with a group of lively people who are discussing philosophical ideas or debating about a piece of art history and how its influenced modern culture. it would be an interesting combination to say the least.

-abby would just be so interested in anything you have to do and would never be critical of your choices. she sees the passion you have for things that lie far outside her field and appreciates it. your future apartment that you build years after meeting when you are each established in your dream careers is a mesh of medical textbooks and flashcards and models but also messy journals and thrifted antiques and poems written on sticky notes for her to find.

[wosoamazing]

Periods

Summary: you get your third period and it’s bad but Lia and Leah take care of you.

Warnings: Bad period, vomit, hints at Leah’s endometriosis (but not actually mentioned)

A/N: I understand that Lia and Leah are not together, but this is purely fiction so…. Hope you like it, also as always requests are welcome, and I am working on the current requests I have.

“Hey Y/N/N, why aren’t you up yet? The girls are coming over soon.” Beth asked, you had stayed at Beth and Viv's for the night as Leah was going out with some friends and you didn't want to be left alone.

“My stomach hurts Beth, it’s like cramping,” she furrows her eyebrows and pulls back your covers, to see a red patch underneath you.

“Oh, I think you’ve got your period, don’t worry it’s okay, it happens to all of us, there are some products in the bottom draw of the bathroom, have a shower and I’ll change the sheets for you,” she left you in the spare room, you quickly grabbed some clothes for the day and made your way to the bathroom, passing Beth in the hall.

You spent quite some time in the shower the warm water felt really nice, once you got out you put a tampon in and a pad on, you didn’t want to leak, you have only had 2 previous periods, but hadn’t leaked onto the sheets even the first time you got one, so you were more concerned than usual, after getting dressed you headed downstairs.

You had barely made it down the stairs, each step was accompanied by a stab in your lower abdomen. With each step the number of tears leaking out of your eyes increased. You walked into the living room where you could hear voices coming from, as you rounded the corner Lia saw you and her face dropped. “Oh Bug, come here” she said as she gestured for you to come sit with her, she was sat in the corner seat of the couch with her legs crossed, Steph was sat next to her, normally you would’ve resisted her offer, you didn’t like to have to have people take care of you, but in this moment you just wanted comfort preferably from your sister but Lia was the next best thing, you had seen her take care of Leah many times and sometimes Leah even asked Lia for help, especially when she had her period, and she was very good at it. So, you went over at sat in her lap. You sat horizontally to her, leaning your side into her, and placing your head into the crook of her neck, you brought your knees up to your chest and curled yourself up in hopes of reducing the pain you were experiencing.

Shortly after Beth had entered the room, holding some pains meds and your Arsenal water bottle in one hand and a hot water bottle and some sick bags in the other, you were slightly confused as to why she had those but didn’t bother to question, the girls had dealt with Leah’s periods a few times so maybe they were preparing just encase. “Here,” you sat up slightly as Beth handed you the pains meds and water bottle, she placed the sick bags next to Lia. After you swallow the pain meds, she gave you the hot water bottle which you put on your stomach before collapsing back into Lia as you let out a whimper.

“Where is Le?”

“She’ll be here soon, was just picking some things up. It’s okay, I’m here for you, anything you need at all, I know they haven’t been this bad before, but its okay” Lia told you. She practically knew everything about you, she was essentially living in your house now so it was expected.

“Do you want something to eat?” Beth asked you, you shook your head.

“You should try and eat something Kleintje, what about just a piece of toast” Viv asked

You didn't nod but you didn't shake your head either, so Viv decided to go make you a piece of toast, she lightly buttered it for you and brought it back. You managed to get through half of it before you started to feel sick, you gave it back to Viv and tried to take your mind of the sick feeling, however it only increased, you were very similar to your sister when you were sick or in pain so Lia noticed almost immediately, she got herself prepared with a sick bag trying to be as discrete as possible. You released from your ball as you gagged, Lia held the sick bag for you, and Steph rubbed your back. Once you finished you leaned back into Lia as Viv took the bag from her and said, “I’m going to call Leah,” to which everyone nodded in agreement.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, starting to cry, you try and burry yourself into Lia further, she pulls you closer and just wraps her arms around you once again, whispering “It’s okay Bug, we’ve got you” in your ear. You drift off to sleep, shortly after.

_____

You wake up in a different place, you were still lying on Lia, but in different surroundings much more familiar surrounds. You were in your own house, Lia was sitting on your couch. Lia had noticed your stir “Hey Bug, Leah is just having a quick shower, then she will be out, how are you feeling?”

“B-bad” you said as tears leaked out of your eyes.

Lia noticed you were trying to move “Where do you want to go?” “Toilet” “Okay, do you want help up?” you shake your head. You try and manoeuvre yourself out of Lia’s lap, however it was unsuccessful and your movement caused a wave of stabbing pains to course through your abdomen, your breath hitched, you felt sick, like you were going to be sick, but you couldn’t be. Lia had noticed this, the bathroom wasn’t an option, and with your pain so bad, she didn’t want to move at all, every time she breathed you whimpered ever so slightly so she knew moving to reach the bowl would be all too much, she was just glad her and Leah had the idea to put towels down on the couch. You gagged, cupping your hand to your mouth, not knowing what you were trying to achieve as there wasn’t really another option other than the one you really didn’t want to face

“It’s okay, just let it out, we can just clean it up” she said in a soft, kind and reassuring tone. You gaged again, the only difference was this time something came up, and it went on you and Lia, “It’s okay, don’t worry, I’m here” Lia said as she rubbed your back. “Oh Bug,” Leah said as she walked out just catching a glimpse of the end of the what had just unfolded, she quickly walked over and grabbed the bowl placing it front of you, you gag again and loose more of your stomach contents, thankfully this time none of it was going on you though, Lia rubbed your back while Leah spoke encouraging words in your ear. “I’m sorry” you said shaking once you were done.

“It’s okay Bug, come on let’s get you showered” she picked you up, and took you to the bathroom, once you had gotten all cleaned up and changed, Leah directed you to her room as she helped you walk, Lia was already there sitting on ‘her’ side of the bed, she had also gotten prepared, there was water, pain meds, hydrolyte, sick bags and cloths on either side of the bed. You got onto the bed and Leah followed, leaving you positioned in the middle of the two women. Lia handed you some pain meds and water which you took before curling up with the hot water bottle on your stomach. Leah was rubbing your back, hoping that eventually it might soothe you to sleep, but it didn’t, only your whimpers got worse. You let out a little cry as Leah repositioned herself on the bed, she positioned the pillows so that her upper body was just slightly propped up. “Bug, I’m going to try something, it might hurt at first, but it should help, okay?” You nod slightly, so she gently slides you so that you are resting on top of her, she pulled you up slightly too so that your head on her shoulder, the movement cause you to cry, “Oh Bug, I know I’m sorry, I love you” she kissed you on the temple before continuing “I’m going to place my hands on your stomach okay, I’ll start ever so gentle and then slowly and slightly increase the pressure, but if at anytime you want me to stop just tell me and I will,” you nod. She places her hands on your stomach just below your waistband, you can feel the warmth of her hands and your body relaxes slightly, and with that Leah starts to apply a small amount of pressure, you wince and reach out for Lia’s hand seeking comfort, she slides over from where she is on the bed to be right next to Leah, you felt her at Leah’s side and slightly moved your head, so it was resting on her shoulder. Having relaxed into the initial pressure Leah increased, you whined and tried to pull back, Leah immediately moved her hands away “Sorry Bug, do you want me to stop?” “No, it does help, but also hurts a little, but not too much, better than the other pain” “Okay, but again tell me to stop if you need” you nodded your head and she continued, she felt you relax completely when you eventually fell asleep, but she kept massaging for a few minutes just to be sure you were in a deep sleep, your hand loosened on Lia’s and that’s when she stopped knowing you were definitely asleep.

“You’re a really good sister to her you know that right?” “Yeah, I suppose, I really don’t want her to leave, but she needs to, she needs to keep developing and as much as it pains me to say it, she isn’t going to improve at arsenal, she has just been playing with us for too long now, she knows the ins and outs of us, and even every defender on other teams, she needs new competition, new play style. I just, I don’t, in a few weeks everything is going to be so different” Leah broke at the final sentence, Lia wrapped her arm around her and kissed her on the temple, before Leah rested her head in the crook of Lia’s neck, her tears slid down her face, making Lia’s neck wet as she tried to hide her emotions, this was the first time Leah had actually expressed how she felt about your move, Lia knew how she felt but Leah hadn't actually spoken to anyone about it yet. “You know its okay to cry right, you both have such a special bond, she has lived with you for the past 6 years and you lived with her for like the first 8 years of here life-” “something like that yeah” “I know it will be different, I’ll miss her too, I spend so much time with her and I basically live here now, it’s like she is my little sister. But we have each other we will get through this together okay, I love you so much Le” “I love you too Wally, and if it helps, she definitely thinks of you as a big sister, I don’t think she would’ve let any of the other girls look after her today the way she let you do willingly, and did you see her reach for your hand and relax slightly when you came closer, she loves you too Wally, and also thank you so much for taking such amazing care of her today, while I wasn’t there. Sorry you got sick on you”.

Lia made a gross face at the reminder of that “I don’t think I would willingly let anyone other than my two Williamson’s vomit on me, ever. I just feel so bad for her, do you think we should take her to the doctor? Like I know with you and all there are the chances and stuff but what if something is wrong.”

“Oh don’t worry Mum has her booked in for an ultrasound already, somehow she managed to get one for tomorrow which in hindsight isn’t going to be fun to get her to but oh well” your sister looked down to your face a small frown was appearing she moved one of her hands back onto your stomach and the frown slightly lessened, she lightly started massaging again and the frown disappeared, so she kept going, hoping that you could sleep, as clearly even in your sleep you were in pain. “I do hope though that this is just a one off, I don’t want her to have to go through it, deal with this or worse every month.”

“I know, I hope so too, but we will be here for her and Lucy and Kie will look after her, and the girls at Barca, they all seem lovely”

“Yeah, it, just, I don’t know,” Leah sighed, they laid in silence for a bit before Lia spoke.

“Babe, I might try and sleep, if that’s okay, because it’s not like we are going anywhere soon and I’m slightly exhausted, after last night and then today”.

“Yeah, I might sleep too, love you,” they kissed briefly before Leah placed her head in the crook of Lia’s neck again and Lia rested her head on hers.

____

“Oh, Cait, I found them, shhh” Katie said, Caitlin came in and took a picture, Leah and Lia held hands over you, as you hand your hand was still placed in Lia’s and Leah’s other arm was wrapped around you.

“They are so cute, let’s just leave them be, leave the stuff on the bench I’ll send them a message”.

____

Leah woke up first and grabbed her phone, seeing a message from Caitlin.

Caitlin: We came to drop of a few things, you didn’t answer so we let ourselves in, we found all 3 of you asleep, so let you be, the items are just on the bench.

Caitlin: *sent a photo*

Leah: Thank you so much, and could you not tell people straight away….. I mean I know the team probably assumes but we haven’t told Bug yet, were going to tell her today but…

Caitlin: Yeah sure, hope she feels better.

____

You blinked your eyes open, and Leah looked down at you, “Feeling better Bug?”

“A little I guess,” you paused for a little moment, “Le?” “Yeah Bug,” “Are you and Lia together?” “Well Bug, in a way I suppose yes, we were going to ask you if you were okay with us being together today, but we decided not too because you weren’t well”.

“Okay, I don’t mind, can Lia move in now? Well like does it mean she will move in?”

“If you’re okay with that bug.”

“I would like that, I love Lia, she is really nice and fun, and she takes care of me and doesn’t complain when I throw up on her, and she makes you happy, and she is always the first one to check you’re okay and she really cares for you and helps you, even when you push her away. Don’t mess this one up Le, but maybe before she moves in just check, she wants kids…. And maybe marriage.”

“I’m glad you like her bug, because I do really like her, and I promise I wont mess this one up.” “I’m just going to go to the toilet” you say as you get up and head for the toilet shutting the door.

“Having little mini me’s wandering around the house one day could be cute, and I reckon she would make a great wedding planner, that way she wouldn't have to choose between us, for bride's maid”

“You were awake? You heard all that?” Lia nodded and smiled, which caused Leah to smirk before they kissed.

[amor-ad-nauseam]

Somethin’ Stupid (pt. 2)

Pairing(s): Sam Winchester x reader

Summary :You two are pathetic for each other, so much so that Dean can’t help but take notice. Maybe, just maybe his “playing wingman” will work out alright…

Word count : 3.5k

Tags: Reader and Sam have a crush on each other, fluff, no use of y/n, reader uses she/her pronouns, carheartt!sam, heavy make out, kissing, fade to black, almost smut.

Notes; While this does read as a fade to black i may or may not have gotten a little carried away with myself and wrote part of the smut scene… it’s not included here but if y’all want that lmk!! I am so sorry about how late this is coming out! i’ve been very busy with back to school preparations. Notes and reposts are greatly appreciated

part 1 part 3

“Rise n’ shine, Sammy!” Dean announced, clapping Sam on the shoulder.

Sam flinches awake and like a row of dominos, the guitar that was in his lap is sent tumbling to the floor - creating a harsh cacophony of strings and wood.

The sound causes you to jolt from your slumber. You shoot up in bed in a flurry of confusion. “I’m up! I’m up! Where’s the Rugaru!?” You shout, whipping your head around the room.

“Woah, Good Morning to you too,” Dean chuckles, punctuating the sentence with an obnoxious bite of beef jerky. Sam makes a face. “Want some?” He points the jerky at Sam.

“Hey, Dean.” Sam sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He runs his hands down his face. "I’m good, thanks.”

You visibly relax as the real world comes into focus. “Morning, Boys.” You say as the adrenaline wears off. Sam was still across from you, now flashing an apologetic smile and Dean was well- Dean, but in a cowboy hat. That wasn’t too unusual for him. Dean nodded a hello.

“Eh, more for me,” Dean shrugs with another bite. “Anywho,” He bends down and retrieves the guitar from the floor, now with a newly popped high E string. He hoped the motel wouldn’t charge him extra for that. “When’d you become Springsteen?” He smirks.

Sam was in no mood.

Then, his eyes lit up.

“Hey, Dean, what’s that, uh, mark on your neck?” Sam said, a grin only capable of being mustered by the most annoying of little brothers appearing on his lips.

“What mar- “Dean slid his hand down the length of his neck, stopping about halfway in sudden realization. “Oh- “He clears his throat. Mumbling something about getting banged up pretty badly, he dismisses himself to the med kit in Sam’s bag.

“Oh, and that explains why you’re just now getting back at, uh,” Sam glances to the alarm clock. “7am? from a simple salt-n-burn?”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean scoffs defensively. “Cause you see, Sammy, I was actually doing my job.”

The early morning sun filtered in through the blinds and for the first time you realized that the wood paneling on the divider and both doors were made to look like a saloon door. Damn. They went all out with this whole cowboy theme. On the bright side, the sun gave everything a warm almost fiery glow. Despite the rather cozy atmosphere of the room, Sam and Dean were still going.

Only two things in life are certain: taxes and the Winchester’s arguments.

“The job that requires you to receive hickeys from girls in bars?” Sam laughed. He was now stood by the foot of your bed, stretching the tension from his shoulders. Man, even through a t-shirt his back muscles were attractive- carved like a Greek statue.

“Okay, when you say it like that it makes me sound like a hooker.”

“Maybe you are, Mr. hard worker.”

“Don’t objectify me.” Dean rolls his eyes, feigning offense . Dean was leaned over the dresser, looking in the mirror as he tried to cover a small purple mark on his neck with a square gauze patch.

He definitely wasn’t winning this one.

As if suddenly remembering something, his head perked up and he set his sights on you.

“How’s the leg?” He asked, looking at you in the mirror. He did genuinely care about your wellbeing, but it didn’t hurt that you were also a good out.

“Hm?” You were a little distracted; you’d almost forgotten about your leg entirely.

“Oh right. It’s fine really,” you swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

When you look down you find the bandage that was once around your thigh, half undone, twisted about and just an overall mess.

“Right, fine.” Dean chuckles.

“Woah, you okay?” Sam questions.

Before you know it, Sam’s closing the distance between the two of you and the roll of gauze is sailing through the air from Dean’s palm to Sam’s.

“Damn, I thought you were better at the whole first-aid thing, Sammy.” Dean remarks, happy to flip the situation back on his brother.

“I am,” Sam takes a seat next to you. He’s warm. And close. Too close. “But someone.” Damn he smells good too. Like a brand-new book. “Wouldn’t let me.” He said with a teasing expression.

“Hey, I didn’t do too bad.” Your cheeks flush.

“Riiight.” He gently tugs at an end of the bandage, and it unravels like a loose thread in a pair of jeans. “Not too bad at all.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” You reply, your face contorting to an attempt at annoyance.

“Hey, cheer up.” Sam smiled.

You couldn’t help but smile in return.

He gently slid his hand to the underside of your knee and placed your leg over his lap just as he did the night prior.

While you were busy tossing the wrinkled bandage into a small barrel-shaped trashcan near the sofa-chair, Sam took the opportunity to let his gaze linger. He drank in every detail of your appearance, hoping to seer it to memory.

For some reason, 3 things in particular stuck out to him: You never bothered to put your hair up last night, the way squinted as the sun reflected directly into your eyes, and the fact that you were still in his Carhartt. That last one especially made his heart beat a little harder.

Your lovely chaotic hair and the sun shining on your face inspired countless fantasies. Some as simple as kissing the tiredness from your expression, others, he felt bad for even thinking.

The minute you turn around his eyes are once again glued to your leg and you’re none the wiser.

“How’m I lookin, doc?”

Dean with his shirt tucked beneath his chin was rubbing ointment on what he wasn’t quite sure if it was another hickey on his abdomen or an actual bruise. Upon hearing your question he perks up, ready to make a dumb Looney Toons reference when Sam of all people beats him to the punch.

“Ah, just peachy, Bugs.” He replied in a nasally imitation of Daffy Duck.

“Huh.” Dean mumbles with some small shock. He watches the two of you from the mirror's reflection. He knew Sam had a thing for you, but this, this was something else.

The way the two of you giggled and just almost leaned into each other with every joke- pulling away in shy stupidity each time you got too close. The lingering eye contact, how Sam’s hand looked almost reluctant to leave you, the way one of you would stare when the other wasn’t looking. The whole thing left his stomach feeling like a pot of warm honey.

Damn. You’ve both got it bad.

An idea.

“Hey guys,” He chimed in.

“Hm?” You and Sam said in unison.

“Oh, sorry no you go- “you said.

“No, it’s okay you- “

“Well, you did fix me up it’s only fair- “just then you realized that your leg was still in his lap. You quickly pull away and smile apologetically. Sam does the same.

Dean just about face palms. You two are hopeless.

“Guys.” Dean clears his throat, capturing both of your attentions once more.

“I'm gonna go out and uh, do something.” Dean said with heavy emphasis on “do something.”

“Oh, okay..?” you said with confusion

“Oh, uh, need help with that?” Sam added, eaqually as confused.

“No! no, sorry…heh… I just mean that you both should stay here while I go make a move.”

“You… feelin’ alright, Dean?” You question.

“He’s still hungover I think.” Sam leans in and mutters.

“Y’know,” Dean turns his attention straight to Sam. “Making a move is always the right thing.”

“…So, you do want my help?”

“No, damnit,” Dean sighs in defeat. “M’goin’ on a coffee run.”

“Oh… okay…” Sam replied. “In that case, make two of ‘em decaf.”

“Aw you remembered?” You say with an expression reminiscent of a teen girl with a crush.

“Yeah, I know how it makes you jittery.” Sam replied, sounding embarrassed.

Dean watches as the two of you sit there smiling like idiots.

Yeah.

Extra hopeless.

- -

The latter half of the day is spent with Dean acting strangely and you and Sam struggling to figure out why.

A couple of theories arose.

“Maybe he is hungover.” You quietly conceded after Dean stretched his legs across the diner’s booth seat when Sam tried to sit down- forcing him next to you.

“Nah, he’s mean when hungover.” Sam replied.

- -

“Maybe we did something?” You suggested when Dean pulled the same diner stunt later at the library.

“Like what?” Sam replied as he studied Deans relaxed demeanor.

“Dunno. Maybe it’s 'cause we bailed last night?”

“C’mon we didn’t “bail”, you got stabbed and we all know if one of us didn’t stay with you, you’d come crawling back to finish the fight.”

“Fair enough.” You shrugged. “Well, I’m fresh out of ideas.”

“Me too. Just can’t figure out what would make him not tell us details on a case, it’s not like him.”

- -

You also happened to notice that Sam grew increasingly grumpy as the day dragged on.

Whether that was due to Dean, or his uncomfortable sleeping situation last night was lost on you.

- -

“Maybe he got roofied?” Sam mumbled when it seemed as though Dean couldn’t walk in a straight line- continually bumping into you - shoving you straight into Sam.

“Can’t be, after that whole witch thing he’s really careful with his drinks.”

“Hm…”

- -

“Mid life crisis?” Sam proposes in a hushed voice from the huddled corner of a motel lobby.

Dean had bought two rooms instead of the usual one accompanied by “we’re livin’ offa credit card scams and prayers. Besides, we’ve all pretty much seen eachother’s junk anyway.”

“He’s 30” you replied while watching Dean flirt with the woman behind the counter.

“With this job and his liver, it’s midlife.”

- -

Finally, the night had rolled around.

“Been dazed and confused for so long it can’t be true~”

The radio humming as the Impala raced down the road.

Normally, nights like this would be relaxing. Windows rolled down, the sounds of the cold and buzzing night mixed with the same five albums Dean rotated. Empty back roads and the three of you endearingly out of tune as you sang along.

But this night was simply and plainly, dead.

The air in the car had a tension not even Page and Plant could cut through. You all silently sat in your unassigned-assigned seats: Dean driving, Sam shot gun and you in the back watching the night woosh by.

It all came to a head earlier when Dean notified you and Sam that you two were on stake-out duty. You watched as Sam’s expression visibly changed into one of suppressed nausea. Sure, stakeouts usually sucked ass but did the thought of being alone with you really drive him to the point of sickness?

You breathed a sigh, sinking further into your seat at the memory.

Sam steals a glance at you in the rear view- you looked sad. Guess you weren’t too excited at the thought of a stakeout either.

The car stops about 50 yards in the underbrush in front of a dilapidated old building in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.

The light previously provided to you by the stars was dimmer now due to the thick miles of pine trees stretching high above- looking as though they could touch the sky themselves.

“Aaand we’re here,” Dean said, switching off the ignition

“Mind telling us where “here” is exactly?” Sam quipped.

“Like I said, it’s a nest.”

“Yeah. That’s the problem. That’s about the only thing you’ve said.”

“Okay, fine- look, We’ve had a lot of duds lately and I didn’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up if it wasn’t the real deal.” Dean shrugs.

Dean was an incredibly good liar. Or as he liked to call it, thinking on his feet.

“Wow you are s- “

“Such a great older brother, I know. I’m gonna go walk the perimeter, shouldn’t take too lo-“

“Great I’ll come with!”

You watch as Sam quickly follows after Dean- not even letting his brother get the words out before he’s on his feet and out of the car like he’ll catch the plague if he’s alone with you.

Yeah. Stakeouts really sucked.

From inside the car all you could hear were Sam and Deans muffled voices, but even still, you could tell they were arguing…

“I’m not an idiot, Dean. I know what you’re doing.”

“Well I’d hope so,” Dean chuckled, holding his newly sharpened machete upward to inspect it. “Dad’d kill us if we ever even thought about going in dull and halfcocked.”

“Y’know you’re not the most subtle guy in the world.”

Sufficiently satisfied, Dean re-sheathes the blade and hooks it onto his waistband. “Dunno wacha talkin’ ‘bout, Sammy.”

“You forced me to sit next to her.”

“Leg got bruised las night, had to keep ‘er elevated.”

“Got two rooms?” Sam quirked a brow.

“So? What if i wanted to bring someone back?”

“Dude, you practically threw her into me.”

“Again, the leg. Can’t walk straight.” He shrugs, grabbing a vial of dead-man’s blood and putting it into his pocket.

“Alright, cut the bullshit. I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work. She’s not into me and i’m-“

“A dumbass.” Dean says sharply.

“E-excuse me?” Sam says, caught off guard.

“The girl is head-over-fuckin-heels for you. you must be a dumbass not to see it.” Dean points an accusing finger at him.

“I-“

“I see the way you look at her, hell, you busted out the guitar for her! ah- don’t give me that look, it was obvious. “

“Okay, fine, you got me Dean.” Sam throws his arms up in an exasperated manner. “I have feelings for her.” He pauses. This is the first time he’s said it aloud. His eyes go to his shoes. “Doesn’t mean she feels the same way.”

“Christ.” Dean slams the trunk, shoves his hands in his pockets and walks around the side of the car. Sam gives a puzzled expression. Dean jerks his head. “Watch this,” Dean says.

With the back of his hooked middle and index finger, Dean knocks on the back window of the Impala.

“Hm?” You lift your head from the book in your lap.

It’s a quick set of movements, but obvious, unthought action: your eyes first land on the source of the sound, Dean. He waves. You smile.

Then, all in the fraction of a second you look at Sam. Your smile falters. A short, flustered breath escapes your nose.

Your eyes go back to Dean, your lips curving into a poor attempt at a casual smile.

“See?” Dean says once you turn your attention back to your book.

“See what?” Sam replies, his voice growing annoyed and incredulous- having not picked up on anything out of the ordinary.

“You really make me wanna punch you sometimes.”

“Wha-, you know what, Dean, is this case even real? Cause if it’s not let’s just go back to the motel and-“

“Okay, Okay.” Dean pushes his arms in a ‘calm down’ motion. “It’s real, Columbo. Here,” He reaches behind his back, past the sides of his coat and pulls the local newspaper from the waistband of his jeans. “Happy now?”

Sam’s eyes skim the headline: Reports of “Cult like behavior” spotted near the old McCrowe house.

Below is a photograph of the dilapidated home they were parked in front of.

“Yes, but, h-“

“How do you know it’s real? Ya don’t. But i know you couldn’t take the risk; Even if you tried.”

Sam frowns, combing a hand through his hair. Dean smiles. “Go get ‘em, tiger” Dean says, patting his brother on the shoulder.

"You're an asshole."

Dean walks away with an extra bounce in his step. Sam frowns, again.

After taking a long moment, partially to regain his bearings, partially waiting till his brother disappeared around the bend, Sam pulls open the door.

“…Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

That wasn’t awkward at all.

Leaves crunch beneath your feet, and the book carried at your side rhythmically beats against your hip as you walk.

“So… figure out what’s up with Dean?”

“Oh, uhm,” He tosses the newspaper onto the dash as he slides into the front seat to cover his hesitation. “Nope. Not a clue.”

“Eh, I just hope he sorts himself out. If he keeps walking like that i think i’ll be bruised soon.” You chuckle at your own joke. “Guy’s got hips like Shakira, they do not lie.”

Crickets. Literal crickets fill the beat of silence after that joke.

You knew it was bad but damn.

“Ookay… tough crowd,” You mumble.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Sam said as if he were snapping out of a trance. “yeah heh, Shakira.”

You simply resign yourself to the book in your lap, every once in a while, taking a glance at the house ahead.

Meanwhile, Sam’s gaze never leaves the house for a moment. He had an expression you couldn’t quite place and an almost glazed over look in his eyes.

“Hey, i’m gonna go catch up with Dean, you’ll be fine right?” He says suddenly.

“No,” You slam your book shut and turn straight to Sam. “Sit your ass back down. we need to talk.”

“I’m sorry?”

The words come barreling from your mouth like a falling knife, sharp and unpredictable. “You have been super weird all day- I swear it’s hereditary- Dean acting strange, that i can deal with, but you? i-i don’t know what to do with that.”

A sinking sort of realization sets in. “I- god i’m so sorry.”

“I mean, did i do something? ‘Cause if i did i’m terribly sorry-“

“No, no, you didn’t do anything i swear.”

“Then what is it? i thought things were good and then- Look, if there’s something wrong just say the word and i’m there.”

“i know that but-“

“I’ll listen if you need it, i’m your friend and i wanna help.”

“That’s the problem.”

A beat of silence.

“That you’re my friend, just, my friend. That’s what’s wrong."

You feel your mouth going dry.

The words come tumbling out of Sam’s mouth much faster than he can think. “I-I knew from the moment i met you that you were this super cool and sweet and pretty but also badass at the same time kinda person and then it sorta spiraled into a crush, -which was innocent enough- so i thought it’d go away but then it didn’t and then-“

Every word, every thought, every action, everything within Sam is cut short and fades off when your lips collide with his. Your hands cup the sides of his face. His eyes widen before slowly dropping shut.

A moment later the kiss breaks and you’re sat there, staring dumbly into those gorgeous hazel eyes. From this new vantage point (the middle of the front seat) the gaps between the pines overhead is greater, allowing for starlight to filter in. The parts of his face not obscured by the shadows of his hair were illuminated in perfect detail. The soft edges of his face look almost sharp given the looming shadows, that detail though, is contrasted by the rosy blush spreading on his cheeks.

“…I wanted to shut you up,” You blink. “But I should’ve asked, i’m sor-“

The last of your attempt to apologize is muffled as Sam’s lips crash into yours.

His hand rests on the far side of your neck, his thumb moving across your cheek. The kiss grows in intensity, his tongue licking at the seam of your lips, your breath short and hot on his face. You drop your hands from his jaw and begin to slide them down his torso, eliciting a low growl-like sound from him. You both grow in fervor, the kiss bordering the fine line between sweet and desperate.

His tongue pushes past your lips and begins exploring you with warm desire. A soft sound escapes your throat at the feeling, his body growing warm, breaths shaky, and his tongue needly licking at the inside of your mouth.

Sam pulls away but only for a moment. He takes a quick survey of your face: lips red, breathing coming out in short pants, hair messy and all of you elucidated by the stars outside. You were no longer a reverie- some fantasy far out of reach. You were right there, lovely and more attention capturing than any star. So he says the thought that’s been on repeat in his mind since the moment he met you. What he’s thought on a thousand breathless afternoons when the sun shines just right on your face: “I love you”

“I love you too.” You reply without missing a single beat. you don’t have to think about it, not even for a second. You love him.

Taglist: @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillies444lola @wowzabowza69 comment to be added/ removed

[helluvapoison]

Hi I currently am very sick and can’t tf better and if your ok with it can you do a Vox x f reader like where the reader is coughing five seconds and she takes her meds and they don’t work. And he is flipping out and he just basically is overprotective over us and he think we’re basically glass. Sorry if your not taking requests at the time bye<3

• Physically, it’s impossible for Vox to get sick

• Besides he’s still possibly the cleanest man in Hell!

• There’s a cleanup crew at VoxTech that works tirelessly all hours of the day and night to keep up with the image he wants to project; brand new, fresh out of the box!

• So how you got sick in the first place is beyond him

• Insulted and angry doesn’t begin to cover how he feels

• At least three people get fired, one of them for simply being in the room when you first began to sneeze

• He blames Valentino. Certain trash that fucking moth drags around his studio is probably littered with diseases

• None of that matters when your coughing fits and sniffles don’t cease after a full day of medicating

• Sinners can’t die from being sick… can they?

• Vox takes your temperature every half hour, pacing the room while you rest and researching what more he can do

• Stocked to the brim with all different types of medical supplies, he might as well switch professions at this point

• There’s house calls from the best doctors money can buy, all rotating through the front door while Vox taps his foot on the other side of your bed. Looming over them with a glare as they tell them there’s nothing to do but wait, he growls, “Then why the fuck are you still here?”

• He’s one minor symptom away from hacking Belphegor’s phone

• “Vox, m’fine–”

• Your body says otherwise, threatening your lung’s safety by sending you into another coughing fit

• “This isn’t–!” Vox huffs harshly and lowers his voice to a whisper, “This isn’t fine, my dear. You should’ve recovered days ago.”

• Your eyes are already closing, heavy with exhaustion, “Drama queen. Jus’ wanna sleep.”

• Forcing himself to swallow his protests, he pulls the blankets under your chin before sitting on the edge of the bed

• He knows you hate when he does this so he waits for moments like this, when you’re deep into your sleeping state, to check your vitals entirely

• Occasionally, he’ll do it even when you’re not sick

• No changes. He frowns at the information he receives.

• “I need you to get better.” Vox tells no one in particular, staring at you like you won’t wake up and brushing a strand of hair from your face

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ oh you poor thing! i hope you feel better soon!

[steddieas-shegoes]

uh. what?

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is healing wounds'

rated m | 1,782 words | cw: injury recovery, mild blood, recreational drug use | tags: post s4, hurt/comfort, getting together, fade to black

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

The stitches pulled and he couldn't get comfortable. He almost wished Robin hadn't made him get checked over, but anything that required this many stitches probably would've killed him if he hadn't. At least that's what Nancy said when he complained to her about it.

But now, Steve couldn't sleep, and sleep was apparently very important for healing.

The alarm clock next to his bed said 2:07 am, so calling someone was out. Going somewhere was also out, unless he wanted to go to the 24 hour diner alone.

Fresh air sounded good until he realized he'd have to either go for a walk in the middle of the night alone or sit by the pool alone.

He didn't want to be alone.

His phone started to ring just when he was considering taking a shower out of boredom.

"Harrington residence, this is Steve."

"So formal for two in the morning, Stevie," Eddie's laugh rang through the line and Steve couldn't help smiling. Something about Eddie's energy was contagious, a beacon of light when all he had was the darkness of his room.

"Didn't know if it was an international business partner for my parents. Happens sometimes when they forget time zones." Steve moved to the edge of his bed so the cord didn't have to stretch as far. "What are you doing up?"

"Had a dream about being eaten alive again. This time they managed to eat both of my nipples." Eddie scoffed. "Isn't one enough?"

Steve chuckled. "And you can't go back to sleep because you're scared they'll come take your other nipple?"

"It's a genuine concern, Steve! I have big dreams of piercing this thing and if they take it from me, what do I have left?"

"I think you'd probably just find something else to pierce," Steve shook thoughts of what that might be out of his head before they could take over. "So you can't sleep. You thought you'd call and wake me up to suffer with you?"

Eddie was silent for a moment before responding. "Did I wake you up?"

"No," Steve said quickly, not wanting Eddie to feel bad. "I was awake."

"Nightmare?"

"No, stitches are bothering me."

"You wanna come over? I found my hidden stash. Might help with the stitches," Eddie offered.

Steve probably shouldn't. He was on some pain meds already and if he got too fucked up, he'd probably cry. That's what happened last time he had some of whatever Eddie was selling.

"I'll come over, but probably shouldn't have anything. Robin would kill me if I end up in the hospital," Steve gave a half-truth.

"Yeah, she's terrifying. I'll leave the door unlocked."

Before Steve could tell him that was a bad idea, he hung up.

********

When Steve got to Eddie's, he let out the breath he'd been holding the entire drive. Eddie was sitting on the porch, alone, his guitar by his side.

Maybe he'd been playing already, or maybe he planned to play to help distract Steve from the way his skin felt like it was too much.

He got out of the car and waved when Eddie looked over at him with a smile.

"Didn't think you'd get here so quick," Eddie didn't bother standing up, Steve just knew to go sit by him.

But the steps on the Munson's porch were rickety at best, "temporary" according to the government officials who had stuck them here because they didn't think it was worth putting them in a home across town, and Steve's eyes hadn't quite adjusted to the dull glow of the light by the front door. He missed the top step and immediately fell, barely catching himself on the wood of the porch.

Eddie was helping him up immediately, doing his best not to make his own injuries worse.

"Shit, you okay? Wayne tried fixing it, but it just keeps getting loose."

Steve felt a stinging pain on his side, and when his hand grazed over the worst of his bites, he felt something warm and wet on his fingers.

"Shit," without looking, he knew he'd torn his stitches. "Eddie, I need a towel or something."

"Shit, that's a lot of blood. That's a lot of blood. It shouldn't be that much, right? Like even tearing your stitches, it shouldn't be-"

"Eddie." Steve poked his arm, stayed as calm as he could. He bled easy, so sometimes even small things looked worse than they were. "Towel."

"Right, yeah. Should you come with me?" Eddie shook his head. "I mean can you move? Should you stay here?"

"I'll sit here until I have a towel. Don't wanna get blood on the carpet."

"Got it."

Eddie still seemed unsure about leaving him, but must have noticed how much blood was soaking through Steve's shirt and rushed inside. He was back in less than a minute, a black towel in his hand.

"It's clean. It's the one I usually use for my hair, but I didn't get to fold it from the dryer yet. Um, just put pressure on it."

Steve knew what to do, was used to putting pressure on wounds, but appreciated Eddie trying to triage it anyway.

"You got a needle and thread, right?" Steve asked once he took his shirt off and put pressure on the bite. It was already bleeding much less, a positive sign that maybe it wouldn't be too bad.

"I mean, I do. I don't have medical tools that have been sanitized properly."

"You have water to boil and vodka?"

"Steve. I'm not fucking performing a medical procedure on your stomach," Eddie shook his head. "Do you have a death wish or something?"

"I trust you."

The words hung heavy between them, despite the fact it wasn't exactly news to either of them. They'd been through it all together, why wouldn't he trust him?

"Okay, let's get inside and I'll get everything ready."

Getting inside was easier said than done. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but the pain had really started to set in and every breath felt like knives stabbing into him.

"Deep breath, Stevie," Eddie said as he sat him down on the couch and helped him lay back. "I'll get you something for the pain."

"Something" was an edible, and Eddie seemed hesitant to give it to him, but all reservations Steve previously had went out the window as he felt his hands shaking from the pain.

Eddie prepared everything while the edible kicked in, checking in with Steve every few minutes to make sure he hadn't passed out or started bleeding again.

When the room started to feel blurry and his head felt light, Steve smiled over at Eddie, who looked nervous.

"Ready for your magic hands," Steve wiggled his brows.

Eddie made a strangled sound before leaning over the wound and wiping some of the blood away gently so he could see where to stitch him back up.

He worked as quickly as possible, humming softly to distract himself and Steve from what was happening.

Steve was high.

He was high and he was feeling good despite the needle in his skin.

He drifted for a bit, couldn't be sure how long, but eventually, Eddie was touching his cheek and making him open his eyes.

"Think you should stand up so I can wrap a bandage on it. Then you can try to shower off some of the blood if you want. Wayne got one of those removable showerheads. Feels fancy," Eddie said as he moved the hair off of Steve's face.

"Help?" Steve managed to ask.

"Yeah, I can help you with the wrap and start the shower for you," Eddie nodded.

"In the shower?" Steve asked.

Eddie paused. "I can keep us dressed?"

"But." Steve huffed. "Blood."

Eddie couldn't help but laugh at his confusion, Steve's lips pouting out and his eyes squinting. "Okay, okay. If you're okay with it, I'm okay with it. You're high as shit, man."

"I'm standing right on the ground," Steve waved his arms around him. "Or is the ground standing on me but the other way?"

"God, this is the best. Okay, let's go."

"Wait!" Steve grabbed Eddie's arms. "You should know something."

Eddie raised his brows in question. "Go on."

"I'm very in love with you. And also kinda hard."

Eddie blinked, not processing. Now he felt high.

"Uh. What?"

"I have an erection." Steve made a disgusted face. "Hate that word. Sounds so middle school sex ed."

"It is." Eddie shook his head. "I guess I meant more like, how and why and what the hell do you mean by it."

Steve giggled. "I said you had magic hands and I was right."

"Dude, I was literally giving you stitches. I am failing to see why that would make you hard."

"It's cuz you're so gentle and your tongue sticks out when you're trying to focus. And also I started thinking about what you'd do if I couldn't move," Steve sighed dreamily. "You have handcuffs."

"Okay. Let's pause." Eddie let out a small hysterical laugh. "You want me to help you in the shower because you love me? Do you even need help?"

"Probably. But I also want help. And also you're a helper for me."

"What does that even mean? Where's Robin when you need her to decode what the hell you're talking about?"

"You're a helper for me! Because you help me be better about asking for help! And then you help!"

"Okay, that's. Good. I'm still not sure what's happening."

"You're gonna help me shower. I'm gonna try very hard not to come. We sleep?" Steve looked around Eddie out the window, like he was checking if it was still night time. "And then in the morning I wake up and get yelled at by Robin."

"Why would she-"

"The stitches. And the telling you I love you thing. She's gonna be real mad about that."

"Why?" Eddie felt like he was losing it. What was even happening anymore? How had he completely lost control of the night?

"She wanted to help me do a speech thing."

This was just getting more wild.

Steve needed a shower, and he needed sleep. Eddie needed a minute to gather his own thoughts.

"Shower. Sleep. Talk in the morning." Eddie raised his hand to cup Steve's neck. "Robin murders you after we talk."

"Deal." Steve's face sank, but he quickly perked back up. "But shower?"

"Yes, shower. Go, horndog."

Steve laughed as he half-limped to the bathroom, clearly feeling some pain even with the drugs in his system. Eddie followed and resisted touching Steve as much as possible.

Which ended up being about two minutes.

[dira333]

Bonded - part 2

Spock x reader

“How is it?” McCoy asks when you walk into med-bay.

“How is what?” You ask back while crossing the distance towards the replicator, requesting two cups of coffee.

“Having a bond with that green-blooded hobgoblin.”

“It’s been a day, okay?” You quip and hand him one of the cups, “So far we haven’t killed each other.”

McCoy grins at that and takes a sip.

“You acting like you hate him won’t fool me, dear. You’re pretty obvious about your feelings.”

You groan and step aside, hoping that will end the conversation. It doesn’t.

“Date night?” McCoy asks two days later when you step out of your office after having gone through all your paperwork - or more accurately, PADD-work. You rub your lips together self-consciously, aware of the color of the lipstick you rarely use.

“What does it matter?” You ask back, hiding your anxiety behind a cool facade. Not that it works, McCoy sees straight through you.

“Nothing. Have fun.” He grins while saying so and you roll your eyes at him and step out of med-bay.

It doesn’t take you long to realize that date night with Spock usually means the choice between two things: Meditate with him or play chess with him.

You usually opt for chess as it gives you the opportunity to talk while doing so, but you’re rather bad at chess so you’re mostly quiet as you try not to lose too badly.

It takes you two weeks or four date nights until you’re tired of it. But how do you tell him that without offending him?

You don’t want him to realize it by reading your feelings through the bond and keep calm as much as possible until you’re tired of that too and drop in the seat in front of McCoy’s desk with a groan.

“What?”

“How do I tell him that I hate chess?”

“By using your mouth, for example?”

You roll your eyes at him. “I would have done that if it was easy. For someone so intent on nosing around in my matters you could have better advice.”

“You want better advice?” McCoy puts down your PADD and looks at you, “Do you think you two are still bonded because you are a shy wallflower that says yes to everything he likes and does? If he wanted something like that, he could have found plenty of those on Vulcan or elsewhere.”

You stare at him wordlessly for a few seconds before you push yourself out of your seat.

“This must be the worst version of ‘Be yourself!’ I’ve ever heard,” you tell him as you walk out his office.

“I hope so!” He calls after you as you leave.

“You are early,” Spock tells you as you step into his ready room.

“Well yeah,” you say, “I like spending time with you.”

He looks up at you, eyebrow raised in question.

“You have something to say?”

“Yes. I hate chess.”

Spock stops short and you take a breath.

“Well, I don’t exactly hate it, you know, but I’m really bad at it, but I figured we could still talk while playing chess whereas meditating seems just plain impossible to me.”

“What do you propose then?”

“There are so many things to choose from. Watch a movie, listen to music we like, make music even or just, I don’t know, talk like we did that first time. And that’s just the innocent part of my ideas.”

He quirks the left side of his mouth upwards until it positively looks like he’s smiling and you grin back at him.

“I’m open to all of your ideas,” he says and you nod.

“Well, how about you show me what we can do with that bond thing anyway?”

You feel a tingling sensation at the back of your head where the connection rests and close your eyes involuntarily as pictures, sounds and feelings trickle in.

You can see yourself talking on a conference, can hear Spock talk to Captain Kirk how you would be a viable addition to the team and feel his eagerness to talk to you when you first step onto the Enterprise.

Your eyes snap open as you realize what he’s trying to show you and the connection stills.

“I am very interested in what you might have to tell,” Spock tells you softly and gestures towards the couch for you to take a seat.

-months later -

It feels different to date when you’re bonded.

It feels different to be bonded.

You are not just yourself anymore and everytime you say or do or feel something, you are reminded of that.

When Ensign Kreger vomits all over your shoes you can feel Spock’s annoyance pricking you right at the back of your skull. It makes it harder to stay calm.

It also makes it harder to stay friends with Dr. McCoy because you can literarily feel Spock’s feelings whenever the CMO makes you laugh. Not that Spock would acknowledge himself having feelings at all, anyway.

“Stop that,” you tell him one morning as soon as you’ve made it to your quarters after an exhausting Gamma shift. You’re sprawled out on the bed and Spock is standing in the doorway, face passive, but annoyance ringing loud and clear through your bond.

“I merely wish you would take better care of yourself,” he states and you grunt.

“Liar.”

“Vulcans do not lie,” Spock claims and steps forward to pull your shoes from your feet.

“But you keep information to yourself. You are annoyed by the fact that I’ve managed to have fun with Dr. McCoy.”

He stops what he’s doing and it’s getting harder for you to stay awake.

“That is true,” he finally confesses, “I admit that the logic of your friendship with the CMO appeals to me in a way I do not particularly like.”

“What?” You turn your head to look at him. “What logic?”

“Doctor McCoy has similar interests, a similar sense of humor and he is fully human. You fit together.”

You snort. “But he does not make my heart jump whenever I see him. Something you should know because we are bondmates.”

“That is a feeling and therefore purely illogical.”

“Illogical or not, I love you.” You tell him, your tongue made loose by exhaustion.

He leans forward to press his lips to your temple.

“I love you too,” he mumbles softly against your skin as you slowly but surely lose your fight and fall asleep.

A relationship is always hard work.

Sure, the bond helps you understand what the other is feeling and it makes many things easier, but not all.

The bond intensifies feelings, the positive ones and the negative ones as well.

You feel twice as happy when you’re happy with Spock, but you also feel twice as angry when he’s angry with you. Or when you’re angry with him. The lines blur until the source of the feelings are no longer clear.

“You could just tell me what she’s telling you,” You snap as you pull out a new uniform from your cupboard.

“I did. She informed me about the progress of the new vaccine.”

“And why did she giggle then?” You throw him a look, annoyance coursing through you, “Don’t tell me vaccines have turned into some new joke nowadays. Or is it just the French way to look serious?”

“Are you jealous?” He asks back, too calm for your liking, “Of Dr. Lefebvre?”

“She never talks to me, okay?” You tell him, huffing out in anger, “And when she does she speaks French which she knows I don’t understand and now she’s talking to my boyfriend, all giggly and smiley and I’m sorry if that makes me feel anxious, okay?”

“I do not think smiley and giggly are terms that-”

“Spock!” You interrupt him, “I don’t want a grammar lesson! I want you to tell me that no French Doctor could ever take you from me because you don’t like French or something like that.”

You wave your hands in the air, trying to capture what you’re feeling as if Spock didn’t already feel that through the bond.

“Dr. Lefebvre thinks we are married,” he says instead and you gape at him.

“What? Why?”

“Because we are close, we’ve been dating for almost two years. I told her we aren’t and she was giggling because she mentioned something about getting down on one knee and found it amusing that I did not get the reference.”

You lean your head against the door of your cupboard.

“Humans go down on one knee when they propose,” you explain to him and he nods in understanding. “That makes sense. Vulcans sing when they propose. Or hold a speech, whatever feels more natural to them.”

“Do you want to?”

“What? Sing? Hold a speech?”

You smile at him trying to copy your humor and shake your head.

“Get married.”

“Oh… well, we are bonded. In Vulcan terms, we are already engaged.”

You laugh at that and step over to where he’s standing, waiting for you to get ready.

“Take my hand, Spock.” You can feel your heart picking up speed, your brain trying to get you to rethink what you’re doing, but you’re not one to rethink yourself.

“Why?” But Spock is.

“I’m trying to ask you to marry me, so take my damned hand!”

He pulls a face at you but takes your hand and watches you with curious eyes as you go down on one knee. It’s difficult in the uniform you’re wearing, but possible.

“Will you, Spock, do me the honor of becoming my husband as soon as we make it to the next starbase?”

Spock crinkles his nose. “Our next stop is on Delta Vega, which is an ice desert void of any civilization. If you do not want to get wed by the poor man working the starbase, I’d advise waiting for a more suitable place.”

You groan.

“Would you marry me then on the next starbase we are both happy with?”

He sends you a strong feeling of happiness through the bond instead of answering and you laugh and jump up to wrap your arms around him.

“And now, the custom of kissing my fiancé,” you joke with a smile before leaning in.

He meets your lips with his own and you can feel an emotion through the bond, taking over your mind.

It’s happiness in its purest form.

It’s love.

[whumpfish]

Reference: Psychogenic Fever

You've seen it in anime loads of times: the protagonist overexerts themselves or experiences a highly stressful event, and they dramatically collapse. The next thing you know, they're in bed with a cloth over their forehead and an ally informs the rest of us that they have a fever.

Well, it turns out that can actually happen.

If your immune system is already shot, and you experience acute levels of stress, your body will respond to those stress hormones the way it would normally respond to a virus. Your core heats up, and you develop a full-blown fever.

According to what information I was able to dig up, some patients can develop core temperatures of 41°C/105°F. I didn't apparently record mine when this was going on, but given the temperature dysregulation caused by the seroquel I take that prevents me from cooling off if I get hot and the reverse, and how hot literally anything I touched got, I was probably in that higher range.

The Progression:

I went to bed at around 1:45 a.m. I'd already been through so much stress with my grandfather's funeral, how my dad elected to process grief, and scrambling to get the SSI-D function report that had arrived in our mailbox when I was out of town returned on time, I had already crashed out earlier that day from the energy expenditure. Now, I have ME/CFS, and crashing out after exertion/stress is normal, so nothing stood out as a warning sign. If there was one, I dismissed it as my usual fatigue. I went to sleep.

I woke up about 2.5 hours later, experiencing sleep paralysis--presumably in lieu of a fever dream. When I woke up the rest of the way, I was sweating profusely and feeling about like I'd been mowing the lawn in 105° heat. I've done that, and collapsed from heat exhaustion from it, before. I was hotter at that moment than I had been back then.

I put a wrist to my forehead, and the sensation was like holding a hairdryer on high to my forehead at point-blank range. My pillow was just as hot, and no amount of flipping fixed that. (I should point out here that I normally run cold--ridiculously cold, sleep with the quilt up in the middle of a Texas summer cold--and this never happens unless I am very sick.)

I smelled like fever. Some people don't think you can smell fevers, but I was a sickly child and spent so much of my life in pediatricians' waiting rooms full of feverish children that after a while I noticed a particular smell unique to those environments. Since then, I've been able to accurately identify it elsewhere by that smell.

I was completely confused. I'd had to go into the grocery store without a mask earlier that day because I ran out, but even I don't present that quickly. It couldn't be from that. Some old geek part of me remembered Anime Fever, and on a hunch, I googled "can you give yourself a fever from stress?" And yes. Yes, you can.

I sat up, and when I touched the mattress where I had been sleeping with one hand, it felt like trying to pick a dish up out of the dishwasher immediately after it's through running. It was that hot.

The recommended treatment was anti-inflammatories and any relevant psych meds that can reduce anxiety, so I took 800mg of ibuprofen and an extra, small dose of seroquel. Then I took my clothes off and downed a few bottles of water, my usual trick for cooling down once I've gotten too hot, and sat on the foot of my bed to give my mattress time to cool down before getting back in bed to try to sleep.

The fever broke at around 6:15 a.m., and I was finally able to rotate back to the other side of my mattress and pillow, and go back to sleep. I slept until 1:20 p.m.

The Takeaway: This is a real phenomenon! Use it on your whumpees with poor immune systems, either naturally or broken down from their ordeal. It's no longer just an anime trope.

[buckyarchives]

Metal Arms and Short Skirts | Bucky Barnes. [1]

summary: waltzing in as the new head of the Avenger's medical division, impressing everyone, and... scaring Bucky with your incredibly short skirts. while Bucky's having a hard time looking at his arm as anything other than a deadly weapon, and you're more than happy to help him.

word count: 5.6k author note: this started as a small, very self indulgent short story that i had no plans of finishing nor posting but here i am. this is also a sort of mini story while write a much longer/ complex story. i hope to have this finished by the end of jan. my inbox is open for prompts to write as small drabbles! enjoy!

outfit reference (because it kinda important, but you can change it if you'd like; this is just for visuals) outfit one and outfit two

story playlist here

READ ON AO3 | masterlist

A soft knock at the door echoed and Bucky’s eyes sprung open, making himself aware of his surroundings as he began rubbing the drowsiness from his eyes with his flesh hand. His gaze pans to the small clock, ‘6:00 am’, it read. 

“Buck? You up?” Bucky’s head snapped toward the familiar voice. He called out a quick, muffled response while slipping on some pants. Bucky knotted his eyebrows as he crept towards the door, drowsiness still lingering. A small scowl decorated Bucky’s face, the knock catching him off-guard. Today was a scheduled free for Bucky.

Bucky opened the door to be met with Steve's face, “what is it?” Bucky asked.

“I told you last night, we gotta get to the lab and fix your arm.” Steve replied, eyes glancing at the bent and crushed panels on his forearm. Sparring was fun until Steve throws his shield a little too fast and Bucky is just a little too late to catch or dodge. “And this is the only time today that Tony is free to fix it, so put a shirt on, and let's go.”

Bucky grumbled under his breath at the orders, he wasn't one to sleep in or mess around with his strict schedule but it had been a rough week. A mission went wrong, and a trip to the med wing. Bucky wanted to be just a little self-indulgent and maybe have a late start by choice. He turned and grabbed a black, sleeveless shirt from his closet. Sleeveless made the process a lot easier and he prayed to any god that Tony wasn't going to be a pain in the ass this morning. 

“Ready?” Steve spoke up as Bucky emerged from his room, a quick pat on the shoulder as he nodded in response. 

The two boys walked side by side towards the med wing, this was the 3rd visit to the lab this week, and it was only Thursday. Bucky decided then and there that were a couple of too many times for his liking. He hoped this went by fast. On the way they both ran into a certain black widow, Steve nearly tripped over Natasha as she walked out of the training room. 

“Hey boys, where you headed too?” she spoke as she began to walk with them down the hall, a bead of sweat dripping from her forehead. 

“Last night's match got a little too fast and I accidentally jammed the shield in Buck's arm, headed to Tony to get it fixed real quick,” Steve spoke, Natasha eyed the smashed vibranium.

Natasha's eyebrows furrowed slightly, “Tony’s in DC right now?”

“Huh?”

“Flew out last night, had some emergency meeting. Said it was no big deal.”

Bucky scoffed under his breath. “Well I'm sure someone is there to fill in or Tony would have sent me a message,” Steve said, hopeful as always.

Bucky wasn't sure if he was happier or more annoyed at the fact Tony wouldn't be working on his arm. Pro; it's not tony. Con; it's a stranger– unless Bruce pulls a medical engineering Ph.D. out of his ass, which in full honestly would not surprise anyone too much. 

An elevator ride and too many hallways later, the trio walked toward the lab, no one looked to be inside from the outside, and Bucky peered through the windows. He thought how bad it would be to turn around and go back to bed now, but Steve made everyone walk in– ‘just to check.

It was quiet for a moment, besides the subtle sound of whirring machines. Soon the large lab door slides open, “I'm so sorry I'm late! I'm filling in for Tony, he had a meeting.”

you walked through the door with a large iPad and a couple of books in hand, you set them down on a bench with a loud thud. Natasha said your name surprised, calling your attention to her.

“I didn’t know you were working at the compound, did Tony just transfer you?” she spoke, Bucky and Steve didn’t recognize you but Natasha seemed to be familiar.

You smiled brightly at Natasha, “yes. Tony wants me here permanently instead of California to give Helen a break from traveling here from Korea every time someone gets a bullet wound; which seemed to happen too often. ” you spoke confidently, “I think Tony just wants me closer to him.”

Natasha chuckled softly and rolled her eyes, “oh, I'm sure. I think you are the only one besides Pepper that can make him slow down.”

“Tony? Slow down?” Steve perked up, joking along.

“Yeah because I'm the only one he trusts with his oh-so-precious work,” you spoke sarcastically before turning towards Steve and Bucky, holding your hand out to greet the two super-soldiers. Introducing yourself, Steve spoke your name back to you, and you smiled.

“It's nice to meet you, and don't worry about being late– we just got here.” Steve shook your hand firmly before you turned to Bucky.

You brought your hand up to shake his hand while your eyes widened and filled with curiosity once you saw his left arm, you attempted to hide it, but Bucky noticed it quickly. He shook your hand. “It's nice to finally meet you and work on– I mean with you Mr. Barnes” you stumbled over your words.

“Call me Bucky, please.” Bucky replied, his hand falling back to his side. 

Bucky wore a confused look after he noticed your attire, questioning if you truly were the engineer slash doctor to work on his arm in Tony Starks place. Your hair was done up, you had a tiny, baby-blue shirt on, made out of bunched-up tulle fabric, it was off the shoulder with the sheer tulle fabric puffing up on your sleeves. 

Your skirt was matching and incredibly short and tight, despite the shortness, a small slit was on up your thigh. Bucky’s eyes fell all the way down to the floor, white boots that wrapped tightly around your calves and stopped around your knee. Not missing the huge, chunky heel that definitely gave you a few inches.

Muffled small talk between you and Natasha started as Bucky took a seat next to Steve, you moved confidently around the lab as if you owned it, pulling the specific tools and materials to start working. Bucky watch you curiously and thought despite your utter confidence and bliss, you looked out of place in the lab.

Your outfit felt so out of place; colorful, fun, and playful against the lab scenery. Bucky imagined seeing you on the new york city streets, walking around with a young and trendy outfit, a model-like strut like you owned the city. The usual sight of scientists here had a boring, toned-down outfit, usually under a lab coat. You sported none of that.

“In full transparency Bucky, since you joined the team I've been asking Tony for a while to work with you, I have many ideas for your arm.” He snapped out of his trance once you addressed him, head turned towards Bucky as you ran your hands under the sink. “I hope you're comfortable with that.”

Bucky just shrugged in response, you laughed lightly at his response. “Well then, can you sit over here for me?” you pointed to a lowered workbench in the center of the room, and Bucky plopped down on it next to your books. Natasha took his place next to Steve across from bucky

Natasha spoke up, “Stark get you your own lab yet? I know how you are about your space.”

Your warm laughter filled Bucky’s ears again, he found himself enjoying the sound ringing in his head. “Tony said as long as I get along with everyone and stop blowing things up I could stay– though I think he has no room to speak.” you joked.

“I have no doubts though, he seemed pretty adamant about making me the head of the lab and medical wing here?”

“Impressing everyone as always I see,” Natasha spoke warmly, you scrunched your face up slightly, smiling shyly at the compliment. 

You caught Bucky off guard for a moment once you asked for permission to grab his lower forearm, already one point better than Tony as he usually would just grab it harshly and get to work. “I try my best.”

“It seems you’ve been working with Tony for while, how come I've never seen you around?” Steve asked, he leaned forward with his elbows propped against his knees. Curious eyes placed on you, Bucky knew that look.

A concentrated gaze took over your face, and your tongue stuck out a little on the side as you worked slowly to get the crushed plates out of Bucky’s arm. Bucky took note of your almost perfect nails, they were long and glossy with a baby blue color and gems. Matching your outfit. 

“Well, Tony definitely put me to work so I haven't had much time to catch up with the avengers. I know Natasha when she was “Tony's assistant.’” you snort, throwing your hands up around the assistant. Natasha smirked.

Steve was impressed– to say the least, humming in response. “Tony has taken a liking to me and always finds jobs for me so I’m constantly traveling and working. I've been pretty busy the past few years so it would make sense to have missed you.”

“Oh, and you have like a million Ph.D.’s” Natasha added.

“Only five.”

Natasha throws her hands up dramatically, blowing raspberries in a mocking manner. “only.”

“A very impressive resume.” Steve teased, Bucky couldn’t help but be impressed as well, especially with being so young. He was also impressed at the delicacy of which you worked, your hands were so steady and Bucky could barely notice you working. More points ahead of Stark.

“All that and I don't think I’ve ever seen you in a bad outfit.” Natasha teased, her eyes traveling up your outfit. “Or hair.”

A shy smile grew on your face, “as long as it doesn’t affect my work, the short skirts stay on.” you winked playfully towards Natasha as she rolled her eyes at the gesture. 

“I’m just glad you finally are settling down in one lab, I missed seeing you around.” Natasha smiled fondly at you. “Found a place to stay yet?”

“Yes! I found a nice apartment close by, Tony wanted to give me a room here but I declined,” you said. Natasha put on an overexaggerated frown.

All the crushed panels were gone and the hardware inside was almost put back in place. Natasha and Steve were both in their own bubble, chatting away about some old mission. Bucky sat staring at you and your hands as you worked. His eyes shamefully traveled towards your thighs, your skirt was traveling up and a little bit and more of the skin on your thighs could be seen.

His head snapped away and towards the two avengers when Natasha's phone went off. apparently, Agent Hill needed the two so after a quick goodbye from Steve and a teased, exaggerated wink from Natasha, the two were gone and Bucky was left alone with you. Bucky tried to keep his eyes averted from your thighs or exposed stomach from your cropped top, but the growing redness on his face said otherwise.

“I really do hope to work with you in the future, make some better use of this arm, yeah?” you spoke up, beginning to replace the old panels with new ones, putting them together like puzzle pieces. 

“My arm’s perfectly fine.” Bucky mumbled.

You nodded slowly, “yes, it is. But, it can be improved. I can add some new tech, you know? Make it stronger, more flexible, add some cybernetic defenses or maybe some built-in sensory rays, and build something in like Natasha bracelets, that deliver some powerful electric discharge.”

Bucky listens to you ramble on about his cyborg arm, your face lit up as you talked about all the possibilities. Your hands are still steady at work on the vibranium. “Is all that really necessary?”

“I think it is, considering fighting is your job. But, if you don't think so, I won’t anything, it’s just an idea.” your eyes are still laser-focused on his arm, not looking at you. Bucky’s eyes glanced back down to your thigh. “And extra tech would make your arm so much cooler.”

Bucky scoffed, “this thing is not cool.”

Your eyes finally left his arm and you looked up at Bucky through your lashes, “I think it’s pretty cool” you smiled slightly at him before going back at his arm.

Cool? he doesn't think anyone's ever called his arm cool. Bucky's eyes left you and he looked forward, defocusing and staring off into space. “Anything you want to be changed or added?”

A few snarky responses came to mind but they fell short on Bucky’s tongue. Bucky wasn’t going to respond and let the silence answer for him, but his eyes flashed toward the blood-red color on his shoulders. 

“Maybe get rid of the star.” Bucky sighed, he said it like it was a sacred confession. Shame laced in his tone. Like no matter how hard he tried to redeem himself, or erase his mind of Hydra– the star painted on his shoulder would never let him rid of it all. Like a branding.

You smiled fondly at him from across the lab, with no disgust or fear. An unusual sight recently with every other agent recoiling from his presence by just living. “Yeah, I can do that. Do you like black? I can do black, oh! Or gold, that'd be cool.”

Bucky could only watch in awe as you contiuned to mumble random colors under your breath, fascinated by the fact you could be anything other than afraid of the machine of an arm. Your wheeled chair scooted closer and Bucky could feel like puffy tule fabric against his leg, his eyes averted sideway, towards your body again. Your skirt was making him nervous, how did you wear outfits like this to work every day? 

You had started to notice Bucky’s eyes ghosting over your outfit mid-conversation with Steve, brushing it off then so you wouldn't embarrass the man in front of his peers. But it was starting to bother you now, did your outfit look bad? Was something out of place? 

“Something wrong with my outfit, Mr. Barnes?” 

“Bucky.” he corrected, his eye darted toward you, a red flush growing on his face now that you noticed his lingering eyes. He was a fool for thinking you wouldn't notice. “Your skirt scares me.”

Your hands stopped working, being taken aback by Bucky’s response. You look up at him confused, a sort of dumbfounded look on your face. “I’m sorry?”

“I mean this with no disrespect, but it's just very short…” his sentence trails up, leaving it at that in hopes of not offending you or writing himself off as a creep. His face was flushed with red so he wasn’t sure how convincing it was, “not that I was- uh, looking at you like that”

‘Well,” your eyes fell back on the metal panel, screw in hand. “I might call you a gentleman for caring about my decently.” you teased, Bucky let out a small sigh knowing you didn’t take his concerns the wrong way.

“But don't worry, sergeant. I’m wearing safety shorts under,” you smirked, getting up from your  seat and swiftly pulling your skirt down. “All done! Do your little arm thing.’

Bucky was caught off guard. Eyebrows furrowed in your direction, “how do you know about that?”

“Like I haven't mentioned enough, I’m very familiar with your work. I've seen videos of you fighting, you do that thing where you like spin in to stretch it out.” you laughed, backing up and attempting a half-assed version of imitating him and spinning your arm in a small circle. Bucky stifled back an amused laugh at the sight, pushing back the thought of thinking you looked quite cute doing it. 

Bucky shook his head, cocking it slightly to the right. And did the arm thing. Watching your face as he did it. Weirdly enough, you smiled with amusement at the sight. ‘“Yeah, that thing!” 

“You are very interesting, has anyone told you that?”

“Yes and I’m choosing to take it as a compliment. Now I have to clean up here and get some other things done, you're free to go Mr. Barnes.” you put away the tools and discharged the old metal plates to be melted down for other uses later. 

“Bucky.” he repeated. 

Turning to him with books and iPad in your arms. “Yes, sorry. Bucky.” you smiled at him and walked past him towards the doorway, you practically strutted out of the lab. Calling back at him before leaving. 

“It was wonderful meeting you!” and you were gone with no room to respond. 

Bucky stood slightly dumbfounded and a little… impressed? In the middle of the lab before seeing the text from steve to meet him in the training room, a groan escaped his mouth hoping he could have one off day. 

What made everything worse is that he had to endure a few too many direct hits from Steve and Sam during their sparing session. Bucky'smind had been somewhere else for the past few hours, puzzled since usually a good training sesh would help him tap out of everything. But his mind seemed plagued with you.

 The way you spoke about his arm like it was the most amazing thing ever like it hadn’t been the cause of so many deaths. Your complete and utter confidence in your every move and sound. Your outfit, your skirt, and the way it kept riding up your thighs. 

Bucky needed a nap.

******

The commons room was close to silent, weirdly silent. it was midday and Bucky sat on a chair, close to a window with his head down into a book. Sam sat close to Steve at the bar, with small and soft chatter. Wanda and Clint were lazily sprawled across the couch, some movie or sitcom playing silently, yet still creating the most noise in the room. The occasional hearty laugh comes from Steve or Sam as they converse competing with the television. 

A few chapters later of Bucky’s book the soft sound of a familiar heels clicking entered the quiet common room. His eyes attempted to stay on the pages but curiosity got the best of him and Bucky raised his head slowly to look at you, you were standing close right next to Sam and Steve talking about something. Steve had that big goofy smile on his face and Sam was shaking your hand, Bucky assumed this was the first time Sam has met you. 

Your outfit was more mellow than his last interaction with you. A white high-neck tank top hugged your body and another very short black denim skirt that had pleads in it. Over all of that was crocheted black sweater, it hug low and off your shoulder. It looked so thin and the loops so big, bucky pondered on why you were even wearing it. Sam laughed loudly and Bucky wondered what was so funny.

A gasp came from Wanda and her eyes widened in your direction. “Oh my god! Your boots are so adorable!” everyone's head turned to the redhead as she got up from the couch frantically to get a closer look at your knee-high, skin-tight boots. “Are those the steve madden boots? I've heard they're a pain to get on?”

You laughed and Bucky got whiplash, he forgot how nice it sounded. Rolling onto your heels as you looked down at your boots, looking back up at Wanda with a soft smile. “Yeah, they are” Clint's head was now perked up and everyone in the room now had their eyes on you. You didn’t falter under their gazes. “And yes, squeezing my claves into these should count as a physical exercise.”

“I've been trying to find some forever, they've been sold out everywhere,” Wanda said. “They look amazing on you!”

A large smile grew on your face and Bucky swears he saw a sliver of shiny metal shine above your top set of teeth, as it’s said curiosity kills the cat and he was already up from his chair to investigate. Quiet footsteps brought him close beside Steve. 

“What’s up, cyborg.” Sam greeted him and Bucky shrugged back a mumbled nothing. Wanda was still gushing about your outfit and Bucky was trying not to look like a total creep staring at your face to see what was in your mouth. 

“Party going on here or something? Without me too, I’m offended.” Clint joined the circle around the bar. Your head perked in his direction. 

A few loud steps toward Clint as your finger swiped at your iPad. “Mr. Barton, I have some new arrow designs for you! I got pretty impressive ones courtesy of Dr. pym.” as you spoke to Clint, you were much closer to Bucky now, maybe he was staring too hard. He watched your lips move, noticing the metal ring sat above your top row teeth, resembling something of a bull ring. Bucky's eyebrows furrowed slightly. 

“Pym? Isn't he the one that made the suit for that dude that can shrink and get big?” Sam spoke up. You stifled a laugh, shaking your head.

“Your talking about Scott Lang right? Dr. Pym likes to call him Ant-man.” you corrected Sam swiftly. “I worked with Dr. Pym briefly years ago, he owes me a few favors so now Clint gets some cool arrows.” 

“Hell yeah!” Clint said.

“Alright I have to head to the lab soon, I got some new tech for you too Sam so I expect both you and Clint to meet me there tomorrow to play around with it” you pointed your index finger toward sam with a coy grin on your face. 

Sam's eyebrow perked up, “i thought you were a doctor? Like Helen?” he asked with his arms crossed across his chest.

“For your information, I have a very impressive engineering resume. Tony wouldn’t like me so much if I just treated bullet wounds.” grin was still apparent on your face as you spoke. Your sheer confidence intimidated Bucky, whether he’d admit that to himself or not. 

“I have to head out now, it was a pleasure meeting you guys.”

Everyone except Bucky said a short goodbye as your clicking heels faded into the distance slowly. Wanda practically skipped back to the couch to watch her sitcom. Bucky must have been staring too hard because he earned a harsh nudge to his side from Sam. “Dude, you got a bad staring problem.” 

“What?” his eyebrows still furrowed, the creases around his forehead accentuated more. 

“Bucky, you were staring at her lips the moment you walked over here,” Steve added, eyebrows raises and a teased look across his face. Bucky rolled his eyes.

“She had– like something…” Bucky trailed off, motioning his index finger toward his mouth, trying to find the words to describe whatever was in your mouth. “It looked like a ring or something.”

“It's a smiley piercing.”

Bucky winched, “why would it be there though?”

A quick laugh came from Sam as he playfylly slapped his shoulder. “Man, you really are old.”

An offended look grew on Bucky’s face but before he could protest against Sam or send a snarky comment back, Clint spoke up. “Maybe he's just saying that to cover up for thinking she's cute.” Clint teased Bucky, a shit-eating grin across his face. 

“Whatever,” Bucky spoke, deciding his time of relaxing was over and he needed to hit the gym before dinner. 

But before he could leave the room a quick yell from Clint could be heard, “the robots not denying it!” 

Bucky didn’t say anything to entertain that comment. Continuing his way to the gym, followed by a grunt and a quick roll of his eyes. He totally is not thinking of you or your outfits.

*****

It was early morning and the smell of buttermilk pancakes filled bucky’s nostrils, reminding him slightly of when his Ma would cook for him and Steve after a sleepover. But instead, it was Sam making the pancakes, swaying ever so slightly on his feet as he hums to some song. Steve sat next to him with a newspaper in hand. Natasha joined their breakfast a little late, having just come back from a mission. 

Sam handed him a plate of food and it didn’t take long for him to finish it and put the empty plate back in the sink to be cleaned later. Steve piped up, “anyone wants to join me on my run this morning? Sam?”

Sam turned the stove off and put away the dirty mixing bowl, “Nah man, I gotta head outside soon and test out that new tech with Clint”

Natasha's head perked up in interest, asking Sam if he was meeting you. A quick nod and hum in agreement.

“She refuses to tell me what she did to my wings, said it has to be a surprise.” he grinned. Bucky has started to notice the way you’re becoming a prominent member of this ‘team’, with your name seemly popping up in every conversation somehow. 

Everyone was growing to like you more and more. Bucky could understand why that is but so much about you was so unknown, curiosity filled his mind whenever he thought about you. That is, he totally doesn't spend his off time thinking of you.

“I’m more than positive that girl is going to have ahold of the entire team’s tech by the end of the month,” Natasha spoke. “She’s beyond impressive in her element.” 

Bucky thought of a stupid idea for a moment, not being able to hold himself back. “Can I come with?” Bucky asked Sam.

Everyone's head perked towards the brunette, the looks across everyone’s face could only be described as udder amusement but also confusion. 

“I mean, I don't see why not.” Sam shrugged, almost unsure of his answer. 

Natasha scoffed playfully. “I think Clint was right.” 

“What?” Bucky spoke.

“Clint thinks you have a crush on her.” Natasha spoke, sporting an amused grin. “said, and I quote, ‘he was staring at her and her lips like his life depended on it.’”

An almost offended look grew on Bucky’s face, “was not”

Natasha just shrugged, but still wore a smirk on her face as he watched Bucky leave the kitchen next to Sam. Steve's eyes were still locked onto his newspaper like the old man he is but Natasha couldn't contain herself. 

“Can you tell when bucky’s interested in people?” she asked Steve.

Steve thought for a moment, “I mean back then he would talk sweetly to any girl he could get on the dance floor, but now. I’m not so sure.” 

Natasha hummed in response. “I don't know though, bucky was giving her some looks in the lab and also in the common rooms yesterday,” Steve added quickly.

“Interesting.”

On the other side of the building, Sam and sucky walked side by side as they approached the entrance to the training yard. With the shining sunlight hitting their faces, Bucky kinda wished he grabbed sunglasses. 

You and Clint stood in the middle, a couple of meters away from some targets, assuming your arrow test runs have already started. Your head perked towards the two avengers and a warm smile grew on your face as you brought your hand up to shield your eyes from the sun. 

“Hey guys!” you yelled, waving your hand in their direction. Bucky was surprised to see you in just a plain black t-shirt and shorts, your shorts were still very short. But at this point that didn’t surprise him. You greeted the both of them, with a notepad in your hands. “goodmorning” 

“Alright, watcha got for me doc.” Sam started right into it, jokingly rubbing his hands together in greed.

You laughed softly, “we’ll get to you when it's your turn.’

“I’m excited to see Clint use his Pymarrows.” you turned towards Clint with eyes full of pure desire. Bucky might just have a staring problem or he might have just thought you kinda did look cute. 

You pulled a few sets of arrows out of a case and started to ramble on about them, using terms bucky wished he understood. “Okay Clint, you’re going to shoot this arrow up high so the arrow hits straight into the ground, far away from us though.”

You pulled a second arrow out, “and then shoot this one forward right after that so they meet in the air, do you understand? Can you do that?”

Clint nodded yet had a confused look on his face. “Yes, but what's gonna happen?

“You’ll see,” you spoke with a sly smirk, the look on your face concerned the three men. Even more, after a mumbled ‘tony is going to kill me’ escaped your lips.

Clint positioned himself to shoot the arrow high up, and it went up. Next, grabbing the second one from you and swiftly getting in the correct position to hit the first one mid-air, letting the arrow go and as it flew threw the air and came in contact with the first one, Bucky (along with the rest of the group) breath caught in his throat at the sight before him.

 Tony was so going to kill you.

“Holy shit.” Sam breathed out.

The first arrow Clint shot grew ten times its size. hitting straight into the lawn, probably leaving a meter-wide hole as it stood up straight into the air, the height of an old tree. Bucky had to crane his head up to see the top. The three boy’s mouths gaped open at the sight while it looked like you were going to burst from excitement.

“Yes! It worked!” you jumped up and down, dramatically throwing your fist in the air like a child. “That's so fucking cool!”

“Oh my god” was the only thing Clint could say, muttering under his breath with his bow still in his hands. “I feel like I’m not responsible enough for this”

Bucky realized why Natasha spoke so highly of you now, he was utterly impressed and his curiosity only grew larger at this moment. He let out a breath and realized he was in for it now. 

Bucky found somewhere to sit as he watched you work on arrows and other technology as Clint practiced with a plethora of trick arrows. Seeing the look in your eyes as you explain how they worked or watching your invention sparked something in Bucky, you looked like you were glowing. 

Bucky continued to keep close eyes on you while you explained to Sam his new technology, it was also nice seeing Sam's face light up as he tested all his new features, you definitely were having an effect at the compound.

“Hah, soon enough I'll be able to take you easily, Barnes.” Sam snarked towards Bucky.

“In your dreams, Wilson.” a soft smile rose to Bucky’s face. You notice and realized that was the first time you had seen Bucky’s smile.

Sam went back to fly around, testing his new cruise configurations or new thrusters. You were standing closer to Bucky now, your head turned to him. “You should do that more often,” you spoke softly in his direction.

“What?” Bucky’s head turned to see you looking fondly down at him.

“Smile, your smile is nice.” 

Bucky didn’t say anything, he was more than sure a slight red tint grew to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He panned his head back to Sam, beginning to fidget by playing with the grass on the ground beside him like a small child. You soon joined Bucky, sitting next to him on the ground.

The awkward silence between the two of you killed Bucky, his head panned back over to you soon enough. You were writing down what Bucky assumed to be notes, your tongue slightly sticking out at the corner in concentration. He noted the plainness of your outfit again.

“No cool outfit today?” Bucky asked innocently

Your eyes met his and he crumbled, you smiled so brightly toward him. “You think my outfits are cool?” you spoke, you aren’t going to lie and say you weren't basking in the validation from the super-soldier. You spent too much time and money on your outfits for people to not amend you for it. You felt slightly giddy, today was a good day.

Bucky shrugged in response, fumbling over his words slightly. Losing his focus while you gave him such a look. “I mean, uh– yeah, they're a lot, but they're cool…”

Smooth, so smooth james.

“Thank you,” you said, going back to writing down notes. Bucky let out a breath. “I’m taking advantage of the compounds gym so I don't have to pay a membership at a public one anymore. I came from a workout before this.”

Bucky just nodded and hummed in agreement. Clint cleaned up his arrows and took one last amused look at the still very large arrow sticking out the front of the ground. 

“You gonna take care of that or..?” 

You giggled under your breath, squinting your eyes to look up at Clint. “Yeah, I’ll shrink it down and explain to Tony why theirs a big hole in the ground later. You can go if you’d like, I’ll drop off extra trick arrows later.”

You smiled warmly at Clint and grabbed the rest of his stuff before bidding you goodbye, “tell birdy I said bye, see you later lovebirds!” Clint shouted out as he headed for the doors. You shook your head at the teasing comment. 

Bucky just felt more warmth spread to his ears.

[gaykneecaps]

i feel so sad for people who hear the word love and only think of romantic love. they cage themselves into boxes. when i hear the word love, i think of staring out the car window, looking at the steep dives of the hilly countryside, knowing in that moment that i would never be able to remember the exact way the hills and mountains curved, but knowing i would always remember the love i felt for them and the land that i grew up on. when i hear the word love, i think of the dark music classroom under the stairs, deep underground in the music department. i think of leaving that music room, and looking up through the sky window to see a black sky and rain falling down onto the glass as the fairy lights on the roof reflect off of the ice cold panes. when i hear the word love, i think of standing with the wind tugging at my hair like a child with its plaything as i stare out at the ocean, knowing that it has existed long before me and will exist long after me, that my love for it will never be acknowledged because it has had so many love it before and so many will love it after, and knowing that there are other people out there staring at the same, endless blue sea of love and memories that i am. When i hear the word love, i think of the patch my sibling's partner gave me from one of their gigs, sewn into my pants with my other sister's embroidery thread. When i hear the word love, i think of craning my neck through the pain to stare up at the cloudy sky. When i hear the word love, i think of sitting under the green canopy of a tree, watching the rain fall in buckets and waves, and the feeling of the stray raindrops that find their way to me through the thick green leaves. When i hear the word love, i think of messaging my friends at 3am just to make sure they know how much i love them. When i hear the word love, i think of the pair of boots i got from the opp shop, kept together with various different shades of duct tape. When i hear the word love, i think of the memories i have of friends long past, of staying up until 1am with them to play minecraft on our glitchy, shitty computers. When i hear the word love, i think of the rain against my window as i listen to calming music, of hearing the beep of my headphones as i turn them off so i can listen carefully to the sound of the raindrops hitting the glass panes. When i hear the word love, i think of the old rusting spoon, hidden behind trees and thorns in the very back of the old paddock our family owns, the spoon having been there decades before we bought it, and knowing that it will be there decades after i die. When i hear the word love, i think of all the moments that have led me here. When i hear the word love, i think of the chickens in the back of my grandma's home that she hand-made a home for. When i hear the word love, i think of the pieces of my favourite wikipedia article that i have pinned up against my wall. When i hear the word love, i think of the shoes my sibling gave me, laced with the mud-tracked rainbow laces they handed me with a smile. When i hear the word love, i think of my sister's growing collection of sewing machines of various ages, of her collection of metal bits and bobs she finds in the side of the road. I think of watching her eye light up as she spots something glinting on the sidewalk, of bending down and picking up the piece of metal like a prize. When i hear the word love, i think of taking the train to school having had no meds, coffee or food just so that i could see my friend who had an exam that day, even though i was under no obligation to go to school. When i hear the word love, i think of the amount of love that i hold for the world that fostered everything that i love. I think of how much love i hold for the soil underneath me and the trees that grew out of it, the rain that falls from the sky, i think of staring up at the moon as a child and considering it my friend, watching how it followed me wherever i went. To convince yourself that love means nothing but an empty kiss and sorrowful promises sounds hollow and miserable.

[saintship]

Can i request Reader being almost blown up on the mission and their face is almost completely burnt/scarred??😢When they wake up and see their red face covered in bandaids and oils they just break down and decide to wear a mask from now on. And Konig seeing them doesn't know what's going on until he accidentally notice how they pulled up their mask a little to eat. Pleaseee😭 I've hard this idea for days. Can it be with fluff at the end? LOVE YOUR WORK SM

THANK YOU !!

OH MY GOD SAINTSHIP ABOUT FUCKING TIME

this has been ROTTING in my drafts I am so sorry anon, also got a little carried away at the end but nothing spicy just big feels

I really hope you enjoy

I love this idea it’s so fitting for König, I feel he’s very observant given how little he draws attention to himself.

Mask

König x gn!Reader - call sign: Radar

Life around the base could be monotonous. Being in one place usually meant paperwork, meals, paperwork, sparring or group lessons, more paperwork, passing out in your bunk, and doing it all again.

It was different, however, when all of this is happening directly after a loss. And not just losing the fight, but losing many of their soldiers. It was the young men, some no older than 20, losing their lives in the explosions that no one predicted that shook the 141 especially. Their only solace was that they managed to save you.

The air around you was burning hot, flakes of ash floating to singe the gaps of skin they could access. You crawled desperately on your stomach underneath a scorched truck, trying to make your way to the others.

“RADAR, COPY!”

A flaming piece of rubble tumbled next to you, making you jump.

“I’m—I’m on my way..”

“By the east bridge where we came in, you got that?”

Ghosts assuring tone rang faintly in your ears. Finally, you crawled out into a open area, stumbling in the direction of the bridge. The truck there flashed its headlights.

“Move it, private!”

“Yes sir..”

Before you made it a hundred yards, the engine in the car beside you exploded, blasting your body to one side and scalding the right side of your face in flames.

“RADAR!”

Your head smacked the dirt, and the world around you blurred until it was dark.

“Wrap their face!”

“Bampots, these fucks are.”

Soap’s voice cut through the fog that seemed to fill your ears.

“Speak—english.” Your rough voice caught the attention of the truck you lay in, Gaz quickly finishing up wrapping your face. He left as much room as he could, but all that showed in the end was your left eye and mouth.

“Lass..” Soap ignored your taunt, moving to kneel at your side.

“Hi.” Your voice sounded unlike yourself.

Soap’s attention was suddenly pulled to the back of the truck as it rolled to a stop. He darted to swing them open, revealing a few members of Las Almas.

“We’re understaffed on medics, but Rudy’s got basic medical training from boot.” Price explained. “Are you stayin’ awake okay?”

You nodded, the movement stinging your face and scalp, but as he said those words it was like he’d called it—the interior of the truck was dotting quickly in dark spots. Rudy’s gloved hand touching your shoulder was all you felt, and you slipped under again.

This time, it wasn’t voices that woke you. It was the incessant beeping of a heart rate monitor at your side. They’d brought you to the med unit on base—you were home. After taking in the sterile room, your head fell back against the pillow again, exhausted. Fresh gauze plastered most of your face, but the skin underneath felt dry. You needed a change.

Carefully setting down the fingertip pulse monitor on the bedside table, you guided your IV stand over to the mirror and sink, sifting through the drawers for gauze and burn ointment. After retrieving the right tools, you hesitate before removing your wraps. Your good eye seemed as though the color had dulled—the dark circles underneath especially prominent. Your lips were slathered in ointment, but the damage was evident. Breathing deeply, you began to unwrap the gauze. Your eyes remained trained on the sink until the last piece fell into the basin, only then lifting your eyes to the mirror.

No. No, no..

The right half was—gone. It was hard to describe; the skin that had been there before was rendered to an angry scarlet. The tissue pulled and tightened oddly, your right eye missing it’s eyelashes and eyebrow. A sob ripped from your throat involuntarily. Your face contorting from the crying caused pain to tear through your head while your tears stung the affected areas. You hardly registered a nurse coming in, leading you to lie back down, and re-wrapping your head through your protest. One sentiment rang clear through your breaking down;

You could not show this face anymore.

Which brought you to now. Sitting alone, hunched up in the corner of the cafeteria, quickly lifting your balaclava only to put food in your mouth before covering it just as quickly. It had only been a few days—the others knew to leave you be. The 141 sat in a group not far from you, one of them sneaking a glance every so often. You seemed to shrink into yourself, as though you could disappear if you cowered enough.

König wandered into the cafeteria not long after you’d sat down, sitting by himself to eat. You felt a little creepy people watching, knowing you resembled a certain intimidating member of the task force, but found nothing better to do.

König rid of his tray after eating quickly, going over to the 141 after Soap cheerfully called him over. You smiled at his inclusiveness, which deepened when König pointed to himself curiously. Even though smiling pulled at the tender muscle, you didn’t care.

König was pulled into a seat by Soap’s arm, the sight of such a smaller man strong-arming him rather ridiculous.

“Leave him be, Christ, Johnny.” Price picked at his tray, shaking his head at the soldier.

“I’m being friendly, sir.” Soap defended himself, relieving König of his arm.

“Friendliest in the military, aye?” Ghost murmured, lifting his mask to drink out of his canteen.

“Pride myself on it.”

“You’re diggin’ your grave, mate.” Gaz grinned.

“Oi, you-"

“Moving on!” Price grunted, to which Soap sat back and sulked at his refusal to let him argue.

“That was impressive the other day, König. Pulling a truck together and findin’ someone to treat Radar? You saved their life.”

König studied the grain of the tabletop, heat rising up his neck. “Danke. I still don’t know—what happened? They still look..scared.” König snuck a glance at you. Your fleeting eyes and hunched shoulders made his heart break. Seeing someone so determined, so welcoming, so gracious and funny and kind, reduced to a frightened animal—it didn’t make sense.

Price sighed, his eyes carrying the same weight König held in his chest.

“Their face..it got pretty fucked up. It won’t impact their daily living too much, and I’ve seen worse, but it obviously got to them.”

Soap fiddled with the screw top of his canteen. “Really got to them.”

König casted one last look and caught sight of your charred skin, everything clicking into place. You thought you needed to hide.

“I hope they get through it.” König murmured.

“For their sake.”

Because they’re so nice to be around.

König watched you a bit again at dinner, catching more of your facial scars. He wished he had the words to speak to you, but his boots seemed to cement to the linoleum at the thought of approaching.

“You got a crush, eh?” Soap’s sudden presence beside König startled him, studying Soap’s smug half-smile with confusion.

“Crush?” He repeated the new English word. “What is that? What am I crushing?”

“No-" Soap grinned, sitting up straight. “You have a crush. Means you like someone. In that way? König, do I need to explain-"

“No—no, no, I understand now.” König’s face burned; he was grateful it was largely hidden. “I don’t, though, I-"

Soap’s face morphed into one of ‘don’t even try.’

“It’s..” König huffed, lowering his voice. “I’m their colonel.”

“Eh, not really. Different clubs n’ all.” He pointed briefly to Radar. “They’re a keeper. And sweet, too. Don’t stamp this out, mate.” With a clap to König’s shoulder, he stood to join his task force as the mess hall cooks called an end to the meal. König nearly jogged to his quarters, his thoughts racing.

Sitting at the edge of your cot, you removed your balaclava for the first time in nearly 18 hours. The fresh air soothed the irritation caused by trapped sweat and fabric, a sigh escaping your nose.

You made you way to the mirror and sink, studying the damage as you did every chance you got. It wasn’t as angry as the day you got hurt, but the scarring would be permanent. You turned away before more tears could slip by, gently folding the cloth mask.

A rapping on your door made you jump, striding over quickly while wrestling with the mask to go back over your head. You opened the door cautiously, revealing a tall silhouette.

“Hello.”

“Hi, König..” you scanned the hall, not completely sure what it was you were searching for.

“Can I—come in? If that’s alright, it’s okay if-"

“Sure.” You left the door to sway of its own volition, turning to sit on your cot and look up at your coworker. “What’s going on?”

König closed the door gently, fidgeting with his hands. “I’ve—noticed something about you.”

Your shoulders deflate. “No shit.”

You didn’t mean to bite your words that way, but you did, and he shrunk a bit at your tone.

“I apologize. I will leave you be-"

“No, König,” you sighed, frustrated with yourself. “Say what you were going to say.”

He paused, as if a step in any direction would set off an alarm. “May I?” He gestured to the space beside you, to which you nodded.

The cot bowed slightly as he sat, his height still a bit intimidating even after some time knowing him. Being right next to him, you couldn’t help but feel a little small. He looked at his lap, wrestling with his mind on how to start the conversation.

“Where did you get your callsign from?” He blurted the question, briefly turning his head to you.

You paused, not expecting his casual inquiry. “Uh..when we did training in the dark, in boot camp, I could always feel someone coming up behind me.” You gestured to your back before clasping your hands back together. “My sergeant would tell me I had a built-in motion radar,” you laughed a bit at the memory, finding the courage to smile a bit under your mask. “Gaz had met me by then, and he started calling me by Radar, and it stuck.”

König blinked thoughtfully, humming in understanding.

“That’s not the reason you came in, is it?” You teased, leaning to push his side a bit. You noticed he let himself sway instead of remaining rigid.

“You got me. Uh..I just wanted to tell you something that I thought you could..consider.”

Biting back another deflective joke, you nodded, letting him continue.

“There was never a time in the military that I did not have my sniper hood.” He studied his boots, which still easily sat flat on the floor. “Not just because of my—aspiration, but.." he inhaled, then sighed deeply.

You could tell he’d never spoken these words. The impulse to touch some part of him, to comfort him, was blinding. Only his voice brought you back into the moment.

“It was..is, because I hate to see myself. I hate being seen. It feels like I’m giving away a part of myself to every stranger I come across. I would rather choose who sees me, in more ways than one.”

His voice was no more than a murmur, and for the first time, you saw the broken man nestled in a soldier’s body before you. His head hung low, his hands shook, and in the silence after his confession, his eyes fluttered shut. To hide from what, you didn’t know.

“I need you to know," he spoke, eyes still closed. “You don’t have to live this way. You are..kind, and resilient. And..” he turned his head away to utter the final word, a whisper in the dim light.

“And beautiful.”

“König..”

“I shouldn’t have come here.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry..” he stood abruptly, shaking the cot. Watching him head for the door, you refused to let yourself lose him.

“Wait.”

You ripped off what covered your face, your hair falling into place in its wake. König stared, entranced.

“I’m glad you came here. I don’t want you to go, I don’t..” it was your turn to sigh in pause. “I don’t want you to hide from me.”

König blinked, confusion gathering in his eyes.

“Please?”

“Liebling..” he breathed. He crossed the room in a few strides, taking your scarred cheek in his hand.

Anxiety held you in place, your hands finding purchase in the gaps of his vest and his sweater.

“You deserve to walk out of this room and not feel afraid.”

“König..”

And then his hands were over his head, pulling up his beloved sniper hood over and off of his head. You didn’t move, your only physical reaction being the blush that burned its way up your neck.

His eye paint made him look intimidating, but his eyes were far from threatening anyone. His lips, scarred from combat, parted slightly with bated breath. On the skin not painted with black, freckles dotted randomly, forming triangles, lines, and other shapes you wanted to memorize. His brow worried into a slight upturn, which was hidden ever so slightly by the hair that dropped near his eyes. The rest of it was a mess, a rich auburn that stuck up and settled down in all the right places.

“You’ve got to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” The words tumbled out before you could catch them by the tail. Fear clogged your throat in the moments where he didn’t respond before he leaned down quickly, pressing his lips gently to yours. It was devoted and kind, a kiss that said I don’t just love you, I like you.

When he pulled back, both his hands were still settled on your cheeks, the heat of his palms making you dizzy.

“Thank you..” you breathed.

König grinned sideways, and you nearly fainted.

“For what?”

“Not leaving.”

[momotorin]

let it snow, let it snow

fluff (finally) | wife!momo x fem!reader | and as always, MEN DNI!

felt a little festive about winter >< (i live in a tropical country [i am a swagpino 😻]) + momo in a tank top and calvin kleins save me

a degree for the weather. your head feels like it was clogged, and your mouth feels dry; the warmth of your body drained away by the cold winter air.

you pat on the other side of the bed, finding no one to share the blankets with. you shoot your eyes open, as your lover left her space, and found the door of your shared room open.

"love?" you called out, hoping for a response. after a few seconds, you sigh heavily as you went outside of the room.

you heard the speakers blasting a jazz christmas classic, "let it snow!" and you can't help but chuckle at the sight of your wife, in her robe, dancing and cooking pancakes.

you laugh, wrapping your arms around her lithe waist, making your wife freeze on her spot.

"oh!" she exclaimed, and looked at you, winking. "good morning, beautiful."

"shut up," you smiled once more as you felt her cold hands slither to cup your cheek. "woke up great?"

"hm, very," she chuckled, placing a small kiss on your cheek. "sorry if i left you for a little while."

"don't worry about it," you sighed, still keeping a hand around her waist as she continued with her pancakes. "smells yummy."

"oh, it should!" she flips it around, the tall, sweet, fluffy on the pan. "i was supposed to bring it to you to bed, love. you were quite knocked out last night."

"yeah," you put your head on her shoulder, pinching her sides playfully as you teased her. "you're the one i who told me you can't resist me, who am i to say no?"

"you're insufferable." she sighs, teasing you back. she turns off the heat, reaching for a plate on the cupboard.

"and you married me, yeah." you laughed as you reached the plate for her.

"yeah, i did," she happily received the plate, putting the pancakes on it. "maple syrup?"

"chocolate," you said. "should i make coffee for us?"

"that'll be amazing, love," she smiles, her eyes crinkling in joy. "i'll just be waiting at the table for you, hm?"

"yes," you get your cups, a matching pair that one of your friends got you at your wedding. "just..." you grunted, reaching for the coffee just beside the plates, quite high for your liking. "alright." you sighed in relief, finally getting the container of ground coffee in your hands.

"you sure you're fine, love?" momo asks, her tone concerned.

you happily put on the coffee in its maker. she's always been too caring, and it hasn't changed for even one bit. "yup!"

a little later, you sat on the table with her, offering a cup of coffee to warm her cold hands.

"you sure you're not cold?" you ask, seeing her only in her pink tie-dye fleece robe, some tank top, and her calvin klein underwear. "you look quite... summery."

"i'm not," she laughs. "you can just say that i'm hot, love."

"i can't with you," you laugh again, at her very contradictory joke with the weather. "i mean you are but can you beat the temperature outside?"

"probably not," she sighs, digging into the breakfast you share. "you took your meds already?"

you took a slice out of the pancake, making sure you get a little bit of everything. "not yet," you smiled as you took a bite. "god, your pancakes are so good."

"i'm starting to think you only married me for the food." momo comments, taking a sip on her hot coffee.

"partly, yeah," you joked once more. "but i married you because i see me loving you every single day. didn't you hear that at our vows?"

"i was busy crying," momo fake cried, and you laughed. "oh god did my pictures come out ugly?"

"no, of course not," you chuckled. "don't worry i was crying too."

"see! we're quits, then," she laughs, looking outside the window and seeing the buildings below whipped in white, almost powder-like snow. "wow."

"yeah, wow." you stare at the nature of the snow falling down from the sky, like little shooting stars, greeting your morning and grazing your city with frost.

it dawned on you that it's the first winter that you're spending with your now wife. it just made your pancakes sweeter.

momo smiles as she saw you smile to yourself. "the pancakes must be really good, huh?"

"no," you laughed at her. "i just realized that this is my first winter with my wife. isn't that so amazing, love?"

momo coos, holding your hand across the table and smiling. "such a sweet talker," she comments, standing to go to your side and gives you a small kiss. "it is amazing. more than we could ever know."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

I found this blog through a reblog and decided I’d poll Tumblr whether I’m the asshole. And the reason I’m concerned is because my mother (53 f) doesn’t think I’m the asshole, and that’s a bit of a red flag.

My sister (22 f) was home from college for break. She was to be traveling out of state to visit her boyfriend (23 m). Meaning, she was going to be flying in the continental US. As such, she needed a 1 qt, clear, plastic bag for her travel liquids. My family has several durable and clear plastic bags (as opposed to ziplocks) for this very purpose.

But rather than use one of these empty bags, she emptied my care bag.

This bag is fairly small. It usually holds my acne medication, including topical creams, tablets, prescribed moisturizer, etc… in travel sizes for me to take with me to work. I also include my migraine meds and lactose pills in this bag, among other things. And it fits perfectly within my backpack’s side pocket (which is why I bought it).

I noticed immediately that she had taken it as she had just dumped the contents all over my bathroom counter. So, I called her and told her that she needed to return it to me (at the time, she was only an hour away and her flight wasn’t for another week). She tried to play it off at first. “What bag?” Then she tried to reason that it wasn’t a big deal. Then she told me she didn’t want to make her bf drive an hour to return the bag to me as it’d put them an hour back in their drive, so I should just let it go.

And the reasonable part of me thinks… maybe I should? Maybe I should just go out and buy a new bag? Like… it’s annoying that she took it without asking and dumped everything out of it. It’s annoying that the bag doesn’t even meet TSA requirements as she claimed (it’s black and not completely clear). It’s annoying that I had asked her if she needed me to get her anything up for her night before and that rather than ask for help, she took something. And it’s annoying that she didn’t use the clear bags provided to her by our mother.

But the thing is… it’s not just the bag. This happens with all my stuff. It got so bad when I was a teen that my father put locks on all my drawers and doors that only I had keys to (my parents did have a spare set in the event I lost mine that they— ironically— “lost”).

EX: I have a pair of Levi jeans that I bought with a gift card from my grandparents. Levi’s are— well— expensive. Earlier last year, before she went back to school after break, I noticed they were missing. I called her and told her I was angry about this. She insisted I was “insane” and that she would never take them and that I likely misplaced them or lost them (I do have memory problems, combo of ADHD and whatever causes my migraines). My father helped me look for them. He even looked through her stuff. They *were not* in the house. But 5 months later after she came home from college, I found them under my bed (they were not previously under my bed). “See, I told you that you lost them.”

So, I told her that she needed to find a way to return the bag to me and that under no circumstances was she allowed to leave the state with it (if she did, there wasn’t much I would’ve or could’ve done about it, so I was hoping this ultimatum would work). And I said that if she didn’t return it, I would tell our mom about all the unused, unopened pregnancy tests she was stocking and hiding in her room (found when I went looking for spoons as she hides my mother’s spoons after using them). She told me “You’re insane. It’s just a bag,” but she did mail it back to me and I got it in time for work that Monday.

My mother says I was justified in demanding it back (she doesn’t know about the unused tests), but she is often petty and demanding and blows up or snaps at the smallest things. So, I am concerned that I made a big deal of nothing or that I took it too far.

AITAH? ESH?

What are these acronyms?

[bestfriendhelp]

Hello Everyone,

To those who may not know me or who Ezzideen is:

I am Boshra, and I’ve known Ezzideen for what feels like a lifetime. He’s one of the most selfless souls I’ve ever met, always putting others before himself, no matter the cost.

During med school, when anxiety would grip me before exams, Ezzideen was always there, sitting with me through those long, nerve-wracking nights. He never left my side, waiting for me until the very last moment when I would walk out of the exam room. His support was unwavering.

Last October, Ezzideen finally achieved his dream and graduated from med school. It was a moment that should have been filled with joy and celebration. Five days later, he returned to Gaza after 10 years to be with his family and share in that happiness.

But what was meant to be a celebration turned into a nightmare. He lost most of his family in the blink of an eye. The pain and grief he carries are unimaginable.

Ezzideen is not just a number, and no one in Gaza is just a number. Each one of them has a story, a heart that beats with dreams, love, and memories.

I am here, doing everything I can to help Ezzideen and the few remaining members of his family survive this war. I want to see them safe, and I want to see them free from the constant fear that now surrounds them.

The funds we are raising are keeping them going day by day, and we are also trying to collect enough to help them cross the Rafah border when the time comes.

I can’t do this alone. I need your help. Please, help me show Ezzideen how much his presence in my life means to me, and how much we can all come together to make a difference, even in the darkest of times.

@el-shab-hussein / @gaza-evacuation-funds / @nabulsi / @sar-soor / @soon-palestine / @sayruq / @kyra45-helping-others / @cagandante-communistoide / @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness / @northgazaupdates2 / @taviamoth / @a-shade-of-blue / @paper-mario-wiki

[unabashedcandymaker]

Uncertain 02

Summary: Pregnancy progresses, and while your relationship stays strong in the beginning, the dynamics start as the pregnancy progresses.

Warnings: self-doubt, depression, anxiety, general not great feelings

Words: 5.6 k

Natasha x Reader x Bucky

Uncertain 01 / Uncertain Masterlist

Less than a week later, you’re in the med bay, flanked by both Natasha and Bucky, lying on your back, knees spread, waiting for the doctor to finish with the ultrasound. 

Seeing as how you were the first person to be carrying the progeny of a super soldier, the very best OBGYN in the world had been brought in just for you. A whole new wing has been added to the med bay now too. The idea had been to keep everything ‘in house’ until they had an idea of what to expect with this pregnancy.

Not that it mattered to you one way or the other. Natasha was grateful for the preparations and that there would always be someone close by if anything happens. Bucky, on the other hand, grumbled about letting the government have their hand in your very personal, very private ordeal. But, he didn’t really mind as long as you were ok with it.

You were an anxious mess regardless, trying your best to focus on the grainy image on the big screen tv that was attached to the ultrasound machine. Nat squeezes your hand, and you look up to her to see her giving you a reassuring smile. She was excited. You and Bucky were more reserved, but it did nothing to dampen her spirits. Her brilliant green eyes were shining as they moved between your face and the screen.

It was easy for you to get caught up in the moment with her. You didn’t have to force the smile on your face when you looked back too. You reach your other hand over your head in the general direction where Bucky was brooding, and was greeted with his warm hand engulfing yours, fingers interlocking, his thumb stroking your wrist.

“And here’s your baby. Let me take some measurements and we can get a more approximate idea of how far along you are,” the doctor says as she points to the peanut-shaped blob right in the middle of the screen. “Looks like you’re a little further along than we expected. I’m getting about 9 weeks. Which means that maybe, let me just see here, maybe we can…oh yeah, here we go…”

And breath is sucked out of your body when a rushed whooshing noise fills the room. You know what it is even before the doctor tells you.

“...there’s the baby’s heartbeat.”

Natasha is squeezing your hand harder, holding it to her chest, and you can feel Bucky shift behind you, releasing your hand so he can lean down to kiss your forehead. His fingers stroke your hair, never breaking contact as he looks up at the screen again.

The doctor is printing out a long line of pictures, makes a couple notes in your chart, and then is cleaning you up.

“Everything looks great. Mama and baby both look healthy and everything appears to be as expected at this stage. I don’t see anything abnormal or that would be a cause for concern. Your hormone levels look normal. I know it’s too early to say, but I don’t see anything here or in the bloodwork that would indicate this would be unlike any other normal and healthy pregnancy.

“But with that being said, I’d like to see you again in two weeks. I'd also like to repeat the bloodwork then too. Just to be on the safe side. Please don’t hesitate to call me if you have any questions or concerns. This is my personal cell phone and home number,” she says as she hands you a card that Bucky promptly takes and puts in his back pocket with a nod. “I’m on call 24/7. You are my only patient until we deliver this baby. So believe me when I tell you I am being very sincere. Please. Call me with anything. It has been a pleasure to meet all of you. I’ll give you the room and you can let yourselves out whenever you’re ready.”

And for the next few months, everything has been great. Natasha has been over the moon. Even her normally stoic demeanor when working with the team has been a little softer, a little less scary. 

Sam and Steve have been the only ones brave enough to tease her, and she only replies with a smile in kind. ‘How could I not be so happy. Look how perfect my life is.’

But when she’s in the privacy of your home, she’s a wildfire. She consumes you, every bit of you, every chance she gets. Always touching you, always seeking you out, craving your closeness.

She’s also obsessed with making sure you are eating enough and eating well, but also indulging every single craving. Bucky has fussed at her more than once for it, but it hasn’t stopped her yet. You want ice cream at 3 am, you best damn well believe that she’s already on her way to get you your ice cream. She helps you remember your vitamins and to drink plenty of water, quick to chime in with the, ‘no, my love, that has too much caffeine. Maybe I could make you this tea instead.’

She dotes on you constantly. Everyday that she’s home, she’s making your breakfast, bringing you lunch to your desk at work, sneaking in extra snacks in case you get hungry later. That part wasn’t unusual to happen before the pregnancy, but now she’s made it part of her daily routine. She’s made it her mission to spend as much time as physically possible by your side.

And you won't deny, you absolutely love it. 

And Bucky. Your poor, sweet, hopelessly overwhelmed Bucky. He hasn’t figured out what to do with himself. Right after the first doctor’s appointment, he bought a dozen different pregnancy and baby books, and threw himself full force into reading them all as quickly as possible. Every morning he greets you with a sweet kiss and a new fact he’s learned concerning the development of your baby. 

“Did you know the baby can open and close her hands?”

“The baby can sense light and soon, it’ll even be able to taste...how wild is that?!?”

He spends a majority of his time brooding just like before, but the further you progress with this pregnancy, the more relaxed and comfortable he becomes, and dare you say, he may even be getting excited. Which is refreshing as you are officially starting to experience symptoms of your pregnancy other than morning sickness. 

But when you’re in public, his attitude is wildly unpredictable. Sometimes, he’s constantly following you around, hovering over your shoulder, throwing threatening glares at anyone who might try to come too close. Other times he’s so soft and gentle, like you’re made of glass and may break if you overexert yourself. He’s always got you in his line of sight whenever physically possible. If he’s in the building, you may not be able to see him, but you better not doubt that he can see you. 

You love the predatory behavior just a little less, but you appreciate it all the same. It’s his way of showing you he cares.

In the bedroom is where you’ve noticed the biggest change. 

Bucky barely touches you. It’s almost like he’s afraid to. He’s too soft, too hesitant. And it doesn’t matter what the pregnancy books say, or how many times you try to assure him that everything is fine, that he shouldn’t handle you any differently, he only ever gives you a small smile, kisses you on the forehead. Sometimes he will pull you into a hug, and although he never says anything, you can tell he is silently dismissing the conversation. You never want to push him or make him uncomfortable, so you always let it go, chalking it up as an unpleasant side effect.

The biggest change in the relationship comes after you first start showing. It happens around the 5 month mark, just a couple days before your next ultrasound appointment. 

It’s Sunday morning and you’re all three lounging on the couch, your head in Bucky’s lap, your body lying on the length of the couch, while Natasha is laid between your legs, her cheek resting on your belly, her hand rubbing lazily along the slight swell. Everyone’s quiet and you’re even on the verge of a nap when suddenly, Nat is jumping from her spot up to her knees, hands held up in front of her, a wild look on her face. She’s starting at your belly for a long couple seconds before her eyes dart up to yours. 

“What...I...did she just...I think I felt her move…” Natasha whispers as she stares down at your belly again. 

You giggle and relax back into Bucky’s lap, reaching both your hands out for hers. She’s slow to comply, but eventually does. You take her wrists and push her hands under your shirt, her palms flat on your stomach. Your hands cover hers and you’re moving them around, trying to find the spot where you feel the baby kick the most. 

You settle and hold her hands still, just watching her face as she’s staring at your intertwined hands. Then, her eyes light up again when she feels the baby move again. 

“You feel that?” She asks in wonder. 

“All the time,” you smile, relishing in her excitement as she lowers her body back into the couch, her hands still planted firmly on the spot you put them. Her face is inches from your belly and she’s whispering something you can’t hear, but she’s delighted when she can feel the baby bump against her hands again. 

“You wanna feel?” You ask, looking up to Bucky who looks like he’s frowning from this angle. 

“Maybe later. Don’t wanna impose on her moment,” he says with the smallest smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, as he jerks his head to Natasha who is clearly having the time of her life as the baby keeps pushing up against her hand over and over again. 

Something about his reaction feels off and it’s almost unnerving, but you push it to the back of your mind as Nat starts with rapid fire questions.

‘What does it feel like?’

Like I have gas. 

‘How long have you been able to feel it?”

I don’t know, a couple weeks maybe?

‘Why didn’t you say something sooner?’

Lord, Tash, I don’t know, cause of this?

‘When is she most active?’

When I’m trying to sleep mostly. 

There’s a dozen more questions, and you answer each with what’s left of your patience as you try to close your eyes. All the while, Bucky sits above you, still as a statue, his blank expression giving nothing away as you relax into his lap again. 

At your 20 week appointment, during the anatomy scan, all three of you are surprised to find out that the baby is a boy!

All this time, you and Natasha were so sure it was a girl. It felt like a girl. The image in your head was a girl. But you’re not disappointed in the least, as the image starts shifting to a little mini version of Bucky, with deep, blue eyes and shaggy dark hair.

The image on the screen in front of you is a strong, healthy, active, and quite large baby boy. Absolutely perfect and healthy in every single way. 

“You’re measuring a few weeks ahead of gestation age, but that’s nothing to worry about just yet. Maybe start taking it a little easier at work. Might be a good time to start to lighten the load at work. Maybe also not physically exerting yourself too much. As I’ve said, nothing to worry about, you’ll be able to feel it when it’s uncomfortable. Just don’t push it,” the doctor assured. 

So with a clean bill of health, you leave the office. Bucky beaming like the proud papa he is, staring down at the new ultrasound image, but isn’t offering you much else besides a bashful smile and a sweet kiss to your temple. 

Natasha wants to celebrate. She’s insisting on throwing a party, and wants to invite everyone in the compound so she can express her excitement with everyone that means anything to her. 

You’re not sure how you manage, but you and Bucky talk her into a quiet dinner at home instead. She’s not especially thrilled about it, but she relents when you promise she can be in charge of decorating the nursery anyway she likes; total artistic freedom. 

And everything still continues to be fine. 

Your belly has started to become more noticeable every passing day. You’ve long since stopped being able to fit into your regular clothes, finally surrendering yourself to pick up a few new outfits from the maternity store. Natasha is unbelievably excited to help, throwing shirts and pants and dresses and skirts over the door of the changing room. 

It’s not long after that she sneaks into your dressing room and makes you come twice as she presses you against the wall.

And she continues to be as affectionate as she’s always been, if not even more so. 

But Bucky has just about pulled away from you completely…at least he has physically. It happened so slowly that you weren’t really sure it was happening at all until he stopped joining you and Nat in your bedtime activities almost every night. There’s always an excuse why he can’t come to bed just yet with you, opting to wait until you’re already fast asleep before crawling under the blankets and pressing himself into your back.

You know he still loves you, he shows you that everyday. He still kisses you good morning and goodnight. He occasionally drops by to intimidate all of your coworkers. He still laughs at all your stupid jokes and does all those little things he’s always done to show you he still cares. 

But he won’t touch you anymore, not like he used to. He’s careful not to touch your belly and it’s been too long since you’ve been intimate with him.

And every single day, you try to tell yourself that it’s not you, that everything’s fine, everything’s normal. This is all in your head. 

But also with every day that passes, it’s getting harder. 

All those insecurities you’d felt before you’d met Nat and Bucky, and even at the beginning of your relationship, and all your self-doubt starts to creep back in, whispering to you every single reason Bucky doesn’t want you anymore.

Every time he pulls away before you can deepen a kiss, the voices start to get a little bit louder. Every time you see his hands lingering on Natasha’s waist instead of yours, you sink a little further down. And on the several occasions you’ve walked in unexpectedly to see his dick sink deep, deep inside of her instead of you, you’re already so far gone that you can’t see the light anymore. 

Why won’t he touch you like that anymore?

Why doesn’t he hold you the way he holds her?

Does he not find you attractive anymore? 

How could he, have you seen yourself in the mirror lately?

Everyday it becomes more harrowing a task to push the repulsive thoughts away. 

Now, you agree with them. How could you not? They’re true. You have gained a lot of weight. 

Sure, the doctor says you're well within the healthy range, and it’s what is supposed to happen! This is healthy for the baby, right?

But you are unable to ignore them when you’re standing in front of the mirror, in the privacy of the guest bathroom, all by yourself. 

Suddenly, the light seems harsh and you can’t help but see everything that’s changed in the last few months. 

You aren’t sure how you let it get this far, but you’ve become so self-loathing that you can only see every extra pound you’ve gained and every horrifying, ugly stretch mark.

Your hips have widened. Your butt is bigger. Your boobs have started to swell and droop just slightly. Is one boob bigger than the other now?!? Even your face seems to be a bit chubbier. At 6 and a half months, these things were to be expected, sure, but you can’t stand it. 

Now that you see all the ways your body has changed, seeing what you believe he is seeing, you completely understand why Bucky doesn’t want to be intimate with you anymore.

So, it starts to feel almost natural that you should start shying away when Natasha tries to initiate intimacy. At first, she’s worried because you’ve never denied her before, you’ve never wanted to before, but she eventually brushes it off as a side effect of this later stage of your pregnancy. 

Your wardrobe starts changing along with your mood. All the cute maternity clothes you’d bought with Natasha six weeks ago have all been exchanged for overly large, shapeless sweaters and tee shirts; anything you can find that hides your baby belly. 

The time you used to spend cuddling on the couch, you now opt for the plush armchair across the room. Bucky furrows his brow, but doesn’t say anything. Natasha will try to persuade you to join them, making plenty of room for you to snuggle in between them, but that usually ends with you excusing yourself to the bedroom for the rest of the night. 

Then, you started changing in the bathroom where neither could see you. You started locking the door whenever you would shower, not wanting to risk them accidentally walking in and seeing you. 

They’ll be repulsed. 

And it’s not long after that that you start sleeping on the couch. Or in the guest bedroom that Natasha was slowly transitioning into the nursery. 

Both protest the first time it happened, but when you claim you’re too uncomfortable and need a little extra space, they let you do whatever you say you need to do. They both give you very disapproving glares when you snatch up your pillow and make your way out of your bedroom, but they never try to stop you.

Natasha is trying to spend all her free time with you, but you were soon finding excuses as to why you can’t anymore. You’d start staying later at your desk, claiming you had too much to do to prepare for your maternity leave, even though that would still be almost two months away.

But no matter how many times you tried to convince them otherwise, they both still insisted on going to all your doctor appointments with you. They were both still so incredibly into this baby. 

The appointments were becoming more frequent since you entered your third trimester. Instead of twice a month, you are being seen every week. And used to, the three of you would walk to the appointments together, but now, you worked right up until the last minute, meeting them in the doctor's office not a minute sooner than you had to. 

They both stand when you enter the room, each pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head, or your cheek, but you’d shrug away as you’d take your place on the exam table. Natasha, as always, looked like a kid on Christmas whenever she would hear the baby’s heartbeat. Bucky is always right there, his hand on your shoulder, smiling like a proud papa.

For these brief moments, your life would feel normal again, that everything was as it should be, especially when they’d look at you the way they are right now. But, as soon as the doctor walks out, the spell is broken. 

You’re coming up on the 34th week of your pregnancy, and you absolutely can not take any of this anymore. Your hormones are wreaking havoc on your mentality. Everything makes you cry; songs on the radio, tv shows, the fucking commercials about the dogs…EVERYTHING. 

And that’s not counting the physical changes. Your body has stretched to unbelievable proportions, and you feel like you’re looking into a funhouse mirror every time you accidentally catch a glimpse of your own reflection. Everything hurts no matter your position. You’re never comfortable. The baby has gotten so big now and he thinks your bladder is his own personal trampoline, causing you to run to the bathroom every 30 minutes.

And above all else, the icing on the cake to make everything so much worse, you miss Bucky and Natasha.

You HATE yourself for how much you miss them. 

You miss the way Bucky’s eyes would crinkle when he smiles at you first thing in the morning. You miss the way Natasha’s hands always felt so soft as she would cup your face when she’d kiss you. You missed their heat as you snuggled between the two of them every night. You missed the way the three of you used to fit so perfectly together. 

You used to think that it was going to be the three of you, forever. You used to think that there would be nothing that could have separated you from each other. 

Oh, how wrong you were. Turns out that this tiny baby, weighing no more than 6 pounds at this very moment, was just big enough to set your world on fire, destroying everything you ever loved.

A tiny nudge from the inside pulled you back. And crushing guilt was added to your already depressing episode. Of course the baby was not to blame for your crumbling relationship. You had nobody to blame for that but yourself. Because you weren’t enough anymore. You were never going to be enough ever again.

Unsure of how you managed to get here, you find yourself curled up as much as your belly will allow you to in the middle of the bed, clutching Natasha’s pillow to your chest as half your face is buried in Bucky’s. You don’t hear the front door open, so you don’t bother trying to hide the fact that you are full on sobbing as you were supposed to be home alone for the rest of the day; Natasha and Bucky both supposed to be at some training exercise off site.

And you can see them almost as perfectly as if they are standing in front of you now. Natasha, clad in compression capris and a sports bra, so firm and voluptuous, no doubt commanding everyone’s attention with her graceful movements and perfect form. 

And then Bucky, so tall and broad and handsome as he broods, but executing each drill with commanding force and precision. What a beautiful pair the two of them make. 

Maybe Nat is sending Buck a flirtatious wink from across the training area. Maybe he’s giving her that playful smirk. Maybe there’s some teasing touches, some witty banter. Maybe their hands linger on the other for a second or two longer than is necessarily polite. 

And you sob harder. 

Of course this was why Bucky wouldn’t want to touch you anymore. That’s what started all of this in the first place. Your body was changing and he didn’t find you attractive anymore. And who the hell would be compared to what a knock-out Natasha is at any given moment. 

And you know from experience exactly how beautiful she is. When you have someone like her, someone with such ethereal beauty that transcends all of space and time, how could anyone ever look at someone like you the same way? You only wonder how Bucky had ever found you attractive in the first place. 

God, they are going to be so much happier once they cut you loose and get you out of their way.

You imagine their life may go back to the way it was when they were together before, all those years ago, before you came along.

It takes a moment to register that someone’s in bed with you, curling themselves around your body under the cocoon you’ve made with the duvet. Your instinct is to pull away, but strong, slender arms only hold you tighter as you’re pulled closer.

“Please,” Natasha’s voice is in your ear, broken and small. “Please, don’t push me away anymore. It’s killing me.”

You can feel a shuddering breath as she inhales and it’s more painful than you'd ever imagined, to know that she’s hurting too. That you’ve been the one hurting her. 

“Talk to me, милая девушка (sweet girl). I can’t…'' Her voice definitely breaks this time and you can feel her sobs more than hear it. “I can’t be without you any longer. Tell me what I’ve done to hurt you.”

Oh no. Does she think she’s done something wrong? How do you begin to tell her how perfect she is? How could she ever think she had hurt you?

It’s you. You’re the problem. She has to know that. 

You have to tell her the truth. It’s the only way she will finally understand what you already know. 

You tell her everything, even though it hurts, but it would continue to hurt so much more if you didn’t.

She holds you close as the words mixed with broken sobs pour from your mouth. Every insecurity that has grown into a festering wound inside of you; every dark and sinister thought that whispers its vicious poison when you’re alone, filling your mind with darkness and pain; every self-deprecating realization that your only loves deserve far better than you. 

You lay it all bare and then you wait. You wait for her to tell you it’s all true and while they might still love you, you’ll never fit into their perfect little family anymore. 

When she lets you go, you know this is the beginning of the end. You know she’s pulling away. She’s going to walk away from you, this time forever…

But no, while she does release you, it’s only to crawl over your body so she can lay face-to-face with you. Her green eyes are red-rimmed as her own tears fall freely.

“I need you to understand something. I am always going to love you. I am always going to want you, whether you weigh 100 pounds or 300 pounds or even 500 pounds. It doesn’t matter to me if you wake up tomorrow morning, having developed elephantitis and are permanently deformed for the rest of your life. 

“It doesn’t matter to me what you look like, because that’s not the part of you that I fell in love with. I fell in love with who you are on the inside, and on the inside, you are always going to be the most beautiful person I’ll ever know.

“You, my sweet, sweet girl, have always been, and always will be my greatest love,” she whispers as she cups your jaw and swipes at the steady stream of tears running down your cheek. Her hands are soft and her movements are so gentle and you’d forgotten how wonderful it was to be touched by her. 

“B-but Bucky…” you argue, but she cuts you off with a finger pressed to your lips. 

“I love him too, always, with everything in me, but it doesn’t make anything I’ve just said any less true. I’ll never have anyone else like you. There’s nobody that makes me feel the way my sweet girl does.”

She pulls you in close, carefully positioning herself against you so she’s cradling your large belly in her lap, your head under her chin. You still cry as her hand rests gently on your belly, rubbing soothingly across the taut, stretched skin. 

“I thought it was me,” she admits after you’ve finally started to calm down. “I thought...I thought you were going to leave. When you started pulling away from me, I thought I was going to lose you because I wasn’t enough anymore. 

“And then, if you left, it would only have been a matter of time before Bucky would leave, too. He’d follow you anywhere. You’re the mother of his child, how could he not? And what am I compared to you? What can I give him? There’s no future with me if you’re not here.”

It was your turn to hold her as she cried. It took some serious wiggling, but you managed to pull her into your chest, cradling her, comforting her. Her tears came hard and fast, staining the front of your shirt. 

“You’re my forever, Tasha. I wouldn’t...I couldn’t live without you. And I’m so sorry that I did this to us. I...I...I don’t know how to fix it,” you whispered into her hair, stroking the sweat dampened locks with one hand as the other held her close. 

“There’s nothing to fix, sweet girl,” she said with a sniffle, pulling back to look up at you. “I’m yours, мое сердце (my heart). I’ve always been yours.”

“But what about Bucky?” You whisper, willing yourself not to cry again as you think about the other half of your heartache. 

“It’s not what you think. I don’t know what’s up, but I know him and it can’t be what you’re thinking. He adores you. I know you can’t see it, but he still looks at you like you hung the moon. You’ll need to sit down with him and talk about it. We have spent too long tiptoeing around each other and look what it’s done to us,” she says as she scoots up so you're lying nose to nose. 

“And come back to bed. Please. I can’t stand to spend another night away from you. I don’t know if I can suffer through broody Bucky on my own anymore.”

“He can’t have been that bad,” you say with a small chuckle, curling a strand of red hair behind her ear. 

“You have no idea how insufferable he’s been without you,” she assures with a warm smile. 

“Speaking of, where is he? No...wait...what are you doing here? Both of you are supposed to be at…”

“At the thing, yeah, no, I couldn’t stand to be there a second longer knowing that you were here all alone.”

“Won’t Steve be upset you left?”

“Nah. But hey, even if he was, what is he gonna do? Kick me off the team?” She says with a scoff and a wink. “Besides, it was mostly for the incoming agents. We were there just as a morale booster.”

“But Bucky stayed?” You ask in a whisper. 

“I-“

“No, he didn’t,” comes a deep voice from the doorway. Your head whips around, your body following sluggishly after, to see Bucky standing in the doorway, arms crossed, and brow furrowed. 

“How long have you been here?” You asked as you struggled to push yourself up off the bed, to move anywhere else, feeling incredibly vulnerable and exposed in this position. 

But Nat’s arms hold you in place, keeping you on your side, as Bucky walked over, kicked off his shoes, and laid down next to you. 

“Long enough. Nat beat me here by a few minutes. I would have been here sooner if she would have waited for me to get in the car…” He’s smiling playfully, but his eyes are shining, wide, unblinking, and a little pained. “I waited in the hall, figured I’d give you two a few minutes…”

The silence stretches as you stare at him. There’s so many things you want to say, but you can’t seem to make yourself speak. You need to tell him how you feel. You need to tell him…

“I’m sorry,” he says, cutting you off before you can even get your mouth to open. “I’m sorry I made you feel like this. I’ve done this to you; I’ve done this to all of us, and I’m so, so sorry. But it’s not what you think. Not that there’s an excuse, but I never imagined it would have led to this; that you’d think I wasn’t attracted to you anymore…that I didn’t want you.”

You’re blinking away tears when they start springing back up. His hand reaches out slowly, pausing just inches from your face, giving you the opportunity to pull away. And when you don’t, his hand falls to your hair, pushing the tangled mess back away from your face. The touch is so tender that you can’t fight the tears from falling anymore. 

You’ve closed yourself off from them for so long that you’d forgotten how wonderful it felt to be loved by them. 

“It was me,” he whispers, closing his eyes. “I’m not...I won’t be...I’d die if I ever hurt you, or him. It’s all I can see every time I close my eyes. It haunts my dreams. And, ok, I’ll admit, I did pull back some, but you just seemed much more delicate than before. There’s a brand new little person growing inside you. And if I hurt you…or him..I couldn’t…”

His voice breaks and he’s blinking away his own tears. You know how he feels. It’s the same self-loathing you’ve been dealing with for the past few months. 

What a mess this has turned into. All three of you have been suffering through the same exact thing, feeling inept compared to each other, and instead of anyone talking about how they feel, you’ve been keeping it bottled up until it’s reached this breaking point. 

“What a trio we make, huh?” You whisper, reaching out and placing a hand on Bucky’s bicep. You’re giving him a watery smile which he returns as Natasha is hugging you from behind. 

“Maybe this would be a good time to suggest we go back to therapy…together…” Natasha piped up as she shifted upwards again, curling around you so she, too, could reach Bucky. 

“S’ not a bad idea,” you agree. “It helped before. Could be good to go in for another refresher before the baby gets here.”

Bucky sighs and nods. 

“I’ve missed you,” you breathe as you feel the both of them snuggle into you. “I’ve missed you both so much.”

And for the first time in months, with both of your loves snuggled in close, you feel whole and loved and complete. 

Chapter 03-Final Chapter

[acapelladitty]

something lost, something gained

Summary: After being snatched by human traffickers while exploring an abandoned schoolhouse, Lucy fights to survive as she waits for Cooper to find her. (3.9k words)

(warnings for: attempted sexual assault, biting, blood, face slapping, groping, violence, murder, aftercare, hurt/comfort, cooper trying his best in a bad situation)

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Awaking with a languid groan, Lucy's eyes flittered open for only a moment before slamming shut again as a dull pain to her temple made her wince and gasp. Raising her right hand to press at the skin, she was surprised to find her left hand moving in tandem and her eyes snapped open as she realised that her hands were bound together.

Gazing down at the coarse rope which encircled her wrists, panic arose in Lucy's chest as she glanced around the small, cell-shaped room and immediately understood that she was not anywhere recognisable. It didn't even look like the same building she last remembered walking into.

"Cooper?" Calling out with a dry, uncomfortable voice, a sense of irritation laced the anxiety which rolled through her. "What the fudge? Why am I in here?"

The door to the cell creaked open and Lucy glanced up from her slumped position to see a man she did not recognise fill the doorway. He was very tall, head almost brushing the top of the door frame, with a mop of raggedy blonde hair hanging limply across his shoulders and something in the way he looked at her made her skin crawl with unspoken danger. An instinctive disgust which made her mouth tighten.

"Finally awake." The man spoke, his voice sharp, light and slightly pitched. "We were worried we'd done some real damage to your head there."

At his words, Lucy finished her earlier assessment as her fingers once again grazed the hard lump which had formed on her temple - the skin feeling raw and wounded under her fingertips. Dragging her fingertips away, she found them flecked with her own blood.

"Who are you?" She asked, wide eyes darting across the limited space. "Did Cooper put you up to this? Or my father?"

"Don't know who any of those people are but we saw you going into that old schoolhouse with a ghoul so we snuck in, waited for you to split, and gently smuggled you out."

Gently smuggled.

The wound on her head suggested otherwise.

"Why?" A reflex question, one Lucy didn't think she wanted the answer to as the blonde man took a small step in her direction to stare down at her with a lecherous smirk.

"Cause you're in our territory and you're ours now. Me and my buddies have a little side business going on and you're our latest catch." His gaze roving across her white tank top and blue pants, one of his hands settled on the visible bulge of his groin as he winked at her. "We take them, break them, and pass them on to be sold. 50/50 share. And, baby, let me tell you, you're gonna fetch us a pretty price."

The panic in her chest now clawing at her heart as she scrambled her back against the cool stone of the wall, Lucy felt sweat break out across her body as she took in his candid admission with open-mouthed horror.

"No. You can't-"

"Yeah. I can smell the vault on you so I know you probably aren't rolling with the same diseases as all the other cunts we pick up."

Flinching at the term, Lucy fell back into what she knew best as old defense mechanisms kicked in to protect her as best they could.

"Let me go and I'll get you whatever you need. Caps, meds, weapons. I know people who could hel-"

"You?" Laughing openly at her offer, the man steadied himself against the doorframe. "Maybe that bulky ghoul we saw you with could have worked some muscle for us but you haven't got shit we need. Well, aside from-"

His hand still groping sleazily against his bulge, the man stepped fully within the cell and kicked the door shut before him. An action which made Lucy jump as her body shuddered and tensed to the point of discomfort, sensing the danger and violence to come.

"You see, cunt. I'm much nicer than my two friends out there and I'm willing to cut you some slack. Wrap your lips around my cock and suck it like your life depended on it, and I'll tell the boys that you're willing to be a good girl for us. They'll even leave their nasty 'breaking in' toys at the door if they think you're gonna be a good girl."

As he spoke, his body inched closer towards Lucy and her fingers shook terribly as she struggled against the rope holding her wrists, vision quick to blur as genuine fear rocked through her body.

He's going to rape me. Repeated in her head like a cruel, merciless mantra. The elders had told them what rape was, explained that they needed consent to ensure that everyone in the vault was happy and able to share their bodies without problem. They knew, in the vault, they all knew what was okay and what wasn't.

"Cooper!" She hollered out, voice breaking on the second syllable as she attempted to back up against the wall enough to scramble to her feet. "Please, fudge, someone help!"

A memory rose, unbidden in her mind as Lucy rolled her back against the wall. Not long after her body had started to change, one of the elders, a slender old guy named Ernest, had caught her in the gardens. He had asked her questions about her changing body, questions that made her heart feel heavy in her chest as a sense of how wrong he made her feel forced her to back away from him.

He had moved to grab her, his hand wrenching her arm away from her chest when her father had appeared from nowhere. He had been causal in his greeting but even as a child, she had noticed how tight her dad's smile was and how quickly he ushered her back to her room so he could have a quick chat with him.

Ernest died soon after. One of the first to be lost to the latest famine as the crops failed due to an unknown blight. She hadn't questioned it then, too many good people had been lost, but now, in this moment where that same childish fear weighed heavily at her limbs, she wondered if her father had killed him for what he had tried to do.

Kicking out with her feet as the man dropped to his knees before her, his fingers were quick to lock around her ankles - pulling her free of the wall and stealing the breath from her lungs as her head collided with the floor.

"Please, no. Don't do this! No!"

"First times always the worst."

Flashing rotted teeth at her as he straddled her waist, his hands pinned her own roped palms to her stomach as he burrowed down into her space. His breath was awful, smelling foul and rancid, and it sparked a retch in Lucy's throat as she twisted her head to the side. His tongue trailed across her cheek, tasting the grime on her skin as he growled in her ear.

"Just gotta remember to be a good girl and-ARGH!" Breaking off into a pained scream, the man reared back as blood poured from his mouth to drip down on her tank top.

Spitting out the large portion of tongue she had ripped free with her teeth, Lucy used her attackers moment of stunned pain to knock him free of her body. Crawling on her knees, she almost made it to the door when a rough hand wrapped around her hair.

"Stupid cunt!" The words lisping due to his injury, the man's hand was like fire in her hair as he snatched at her scalp viciously. "Gonna break your fucking nose for that."

Yelling as her hands locked around a small shard of metal that lay by the closed door, the man's foot having accidentally knocked it within the cell as he entered, Lucy gripped it tight as she spun on her knees, digging the shard deep into the closest foot she could reach before pulling it free with a vicious twist.

A fresh cry of pain broke free of her attacker as he crashed to the ground, his hands tight around his foot while he snarled obscenities at her.

Fuelled by adrenaline, fear and rage, Lucy pounced on him like a cat, knocking his back flat to the floor as she stabbed the metal as roughly into his throat as she could. Memories of her fraudulent husband flashed before her eyes and she hollered a vicious snarl as she dragged the metal through his skin until the blood flowed and the gurgling of his throat ceased.

Breathing heavily, she stayed in that position until his glassy-eyed stare repulsed her, the scent of fresh blood making her heave anew. Body shaking and mind rattling, it was only when a new voice broke the silence that she jumped as though an electric bolt had fired across her spine.

"Fuck, Petey. She's killed Owen."

Rolling off the corpse, Lucy was quick to take her earlier position - her stained fingers clutching the metal shard as her back pressed against the wall once more.

"Owen was always a dipshit. We'll be better off without him." The taller of the two newcomers added.

Looking just as filthy as the first guy, Lucy's eyes were wild as she pointed the metal at each of them in turn.

"L-let me go. I'll do the same to you." She stuttered, a sinking feeling of despair making her skin feel cold and clammy. "I've killed people before and you'll be next."

Glancing between themselves, both men burst out into a cruel laughter and their movements were quick as they descended on her. Fingers already trembling, it was easy for them to wrestle the metal from her hands and pin her to the floor; their much larger bodies easily holding her knees apart as they pressed them to the floor with their own legs.

Rough hands fished inside her tank top and Lucy found herself unable to do much but bare her teeth and fight off a sob as her chest was pulled free of her bra; breasts spilling over the fabric as matching grunts of approval escaped her attackers.

"They'll do nicely. Fuck, might not even sell this one, what do you think?" The one named Petey asked, his free hand gripping at her chin painfully as he tilted her head to the side in a crude inspection.

Cupping her left breast as though weighing it in his hand, the other man flashed a yellow smile at her.

"Could play with her for a few weeks without going to the others. Would you like that? A few weeks with us and then a ten minute walk up north to meet the rest of the boys?"

Refusing to answer as a fat tear rolled free of her eye, Lucy chose to remain quiet and not give them anything as she struggled in vain.

"You owe us for you did to Owen." The second man continued, his face an open leer as he released her jaw. "So I'm gonna fuck you and then Petey is gonna fuck you and then we're both gonna fuck you. Then you're gonna open those pretty lips wide for-"

"No."

A sharp hand collided with the side of Lucy's face, the blow catching her across the mouth and bursting her lip open in an instant as the taste of copper flooded her mouth.

"Not asking, cunt."

Their hands were all over her, one set fondling her breasts while the other pulled at the hem of her tank top to expose her stomach. They were everywhere and the feeling of them, hot and heavy atop her body, made her feel sick - her throat constricting and panicking as her breaths came short and fast.

The vague sound of the door slamming open touched at her senses but it felt so far off that she didn't think much of it until all hell broke loose.

A fresh splatter of blood sprayed across her face, the sensation matching by a booming gunshot which made her ears ring in the small space as the taller of the two, Petey, collapsed dead atop her - a hole leaking blood and brains from the front of his forehead to her exposed chest.

In shock, both Lucy and the remaining man stared at the corpse for a second before Lucy felt half the weight on her body disappear as the final attacker was pulled free. Her eyes unfocused and blurred with tears, she saw the flash of familiar, tattered leather which hurled her would-be attacker against the wall.

Sounds of exertion were quickly followed by a fresh death gurgle as Cooper's knife flashed in his hand for only a second before being drawn across her attackers throat; the arterial spray swiftly coating Cooper's clothed chest as he let go of his prey and allowed the fresh body to drop to the floor.

Not trusting her eyes, Lucy tilted her head back and cast her gaze to the dingy ceiling as her thoughs spiralled into a messy haze.

After a moment, Cooper's face swam in her vision and the close sight of him sparked a myriad of emotions within her; shock giving way to genuine relief before settling on fear as she took in the genuine fury which blazed in his stark white eyes as they darted across her battered face and disjointed clothing.

He wasn't angry with her, she knew that, but the sheer rage which rolled from his coiled frame made her want to curl into a ball and hide away from it. He smelled of leather and blood, the scent of fresh violence making her nose twitch as the corpses of her attackers lay motionless, crowding the floor of her cell.

"S'alright, I got you, sweetie." Cooper's hands were firm but gentle as he wrapped them around her shoulders, hoisting her enough that she were able to lean against the wall in a sitting position.

Despite everything, his voice was like a balm and she relaxed into his touch as her trembling fingers were gripped within his own - his knife glinting once more as he quickly severed her bindings and let the rope fall to the floor. In an instant, her knees snapped to her chest as her arms looped around them, her body curling in on itself as a wave of nausea made her throat feel tight.

Still on his haunches before her, Cooper studied her for a solid moment before matching her position as he leaned against the opposite wall, his legs outstretched and his back straight against the cool stone.

"Fix yourself, darlin'. I'd offer but I don't think you want another monsters hands on you before the day's out."

Keeping her knees tight, Lucy brought trembling fingers to her chest - her relief at being saved having made her forget about her state of undress - and she tucked her breasts away back into the off-white bra with a lifeless motion, the skin feeling sensitive and sore due to their abuse. Made decent, her arms were quick to loop around her knees once more, her chin sitting atop her knees as a gloomy, far-off expression graced her features.

"Did they-" A half question which Cooper quickly thought better of as he abandoned ship and adjusted it on the fly. "You okay?" It was a quiet ask, the words so low that Lucy knew she could ignore them if she wanted to.

"No," she stuttered, feeling weary despite the adrenaline which still pulsed in her veins, "but I have to be because what else is there. So I have to be."

Making a small noise of agreement in his chest, Cooper's gaze rose to the ceiling as he plucked his hat from his head and dropped it to the floor by his open lap.

"That you do, darlin'. Nothing else for it."

They sat in silence for a bit, the only slightly pained sounds coming from Lucy's throat as she adjusted to the various aches which afflicted her body. Her face was the worst as her temple throbbed like a bitch and her burst lip felt huge and ugly against her mouth. The bodies forever doomed to lay in messy piles, Lucy's eyes ghosted over them and settled on the growing patches of blood which each steadily leaked to the cell floor.

"You killed them all?" She said, already knowing the answer and unsure why she even asked.

"Not all of them. One of them was already dead when I got here and I'd recognise the teeth marks in that hunk of ripped tongue anywhere." Despite the guarded nature of his tone, there was a spark of warmth as he flashed his, well, her, finger at her, and Lucy swore she heard the slightest hint of pride leaking through. "You did good, sweetheart. You fought like a hellcat and you didn't let them win."

"Didn't win." Lucy mumbled miserly. "You did."

"Oh, I have no doubt you would have gotten them both in the end. They might have taken a few strips from you, but that fire in your belly would have scorched them dry."

Mouth upturning at the praise as she fought off the urge to cry, Lucy swiped at her eyes with the back of her hands as her breathing quickly grew erratic.

"All these bullshit lessons you've put me through and it still wasnt enough." She blurted out with a desperate gasp. "They're evil. I hate it here. I hate their cruelty. I hate their hurting. I hate-"

Finally unable to hold back the swell of emotion which threatened her, Lucy broke off on the final word as a heaving sob replaced any chance she had of cohesive speech. It was something raw and unfiltered, mourning the loss of some part of herself that would never be returned as she was forced to mold herself into a creature of violence and hate just to survive in their world.

Cooper, to his credit, let her cry without any false sympathies or interference. His face lacked any judgement, the hole in his face flexing slightly as he inhaled and exhaled steadily, eyes never shifting from Lucy's sobbing frame. Something difficult to pin down flashed through his gaze as though a multitude of possible outcomes were pushing at his thoughts.

After some internal debate, a grunt slipped free of Cooper's lips as he leaned across the short space and pulled at Lucy's shoulder.

So lost in her own misery, Lucy didn't fight the pressure of his strong hand as he pulled her to the side, dropping her to the floor in such a way that her head pressed against the upper part of his legs as she faced away from him. It did nothing to stop her tears, but it did give her something to lean on as he immediately retracted his hand to fold his arms fully across his chest.

Cooper's thighs were like unyielding steel beneath her head, giving Lucy something solid to pin her senses on as she fought to quell the quiver of her lip and the shudders which continued to wrack her body. Their journey had been hard and the hunt for her father was a disaster of interference and dead trails of information.

This was just the latest set-back in a long list of utter shit.

Offering her no other physical support, unsure if it would cause her to act out or break down further, Cooper waited until her breathing was a little more even before speaking again.

"Be sad." He paused, allowing the rare piece of advice to sit heavily in the air between them. "Be angry. Feel that fire in your gut burn so hot that you get the fear it's gonna burst free and raze everything around you to the ground. Hell, curse the day your momma brought you into the world if that's how you feel. But don't break."

Stopping once again, Cooper felt a rare moment of genuine pity for the woman as he glanced down at her. Lucy Maclean, who foolishly tried to choose peace in a peaceless world, still had a lot of learning to do when it came to the way that same world worked.

He could only show her so much, some lessons had to be learned the hard way, and if she could take them, then he would do his part to keep her whole.

"Whatever they do to you, survive it. Skulk off, lick your wounds, come back stronger. Get that revenge your blood sings for." Speaking as much to himself as her, Cooper allowed her a peek into his own thoughts, an insight he knew she wouldn't fully understand quite yet. "Never let them break you. Better off dead than broken in this world."

Gathering herself enough to shakily speak, Lucy gripped Cooper's knee with clawing fingers as she clung to him like a lifeline.

"There's more of them. Ten minutes up north. That's who they were- who they were going to sell me to."

"More side-tracking bullshit." Cooper sighed but his voice grew more contemplative as his gravelled tones mused on her words. "That said, been a while since I hunted down some proper vermin. No bounty. No rules. Might be fun to let loose for once."

He let the idea hang in the air, curious if she was hinting at what he suspected she was.

"You coming with me?"

"Yeah."

Unseen by the shaking Lucy, a pleased smile split Cooper's lips as he glanced down at her steady answer.

It wasn't often he took on a companion, far less one that he'd actually indulge, but the odd woman intrigued him with the hypocrisy of her very existence. A vaultie with a edge, naive blood screaming out for wrongs to be righted just like his own as she fought alongside him like a harpy.

It did help that they both wanted her dear old daddy strung up like the traitor he were.

But revenge would see her right.

She was owed a debt by those who had tried to take her, a debt of honor, and he would see that she avenged it in a glorious explosion of violence that would help keep her nightmares at bay as they would leave no doubt that the beasts responsible were well put down and unable to haunt her.

By gun or by knife, she would get at least that.

He had seen the broken ones. The ones used and abused by so many across the wastelands that they gave up everything and became husks even more devoid of humanity than the ghouls who lost the battle and went feral. It was a fate worse than the many deaths he'd experienced in his time.

No one deserved that.

Especially not Lucy Maclean.

His hand ghosting over her head, fingers only an inch away from her fine head of mousy hair, Cooper tilted his head to the side as he took her exhausted frame in.

"Sleep for now, vaultie. Time for this little killer to save her strength. So take it for what it is and when you wake, we'll see about righting some of the wrongs that happened here."

Feeling more safe with the violent ghoul who had shown her the new reality of her world than any other of the awful creatures she had met since leaving her vault, Lucy's eyes fluttered close as his voice washed over her and exhaustion claimed her before she could do anything to muse on that odd feeling of safety.

Links to the rest of the series:

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7