#anyway any one else with a shitty stomach hit me up

[lornrocks]

My doctor’s gonna be disappointed I didn’t get the imaging yet they wanted me to get for diagnostic criteria but the last imaging was $1200 out of pocket and frankly I spent the months in between the imaging they ordered and this appointment I have soon going on trips and I wanted to spend my money on that instead.

I’ve already spent so much money and time off work to get 2 endoscopies, get a gastric emptying study done (it was like 2 hours and I was fighting nausea the entire time) and go to these doctor appointments. I’m getting bloodwork done tomorrow.

Idk man we know my stomach won’t empty but we have no idea why, everything looked good, they took cultures while in my tummy and djdnt find anything, I have no family history of diabetes or gastroparesis or celiac or IBS like my dad (literally a gastroenterologist, just not MY gastroenterologist) says it’s extremely likely my stomach is not functioning correctly after one of the GI viruses I’ve had before. But idk how you prove that.

Currently the only direction I was given was “eat 5-6 small low fat meals a day” which is super impractical unless I work from home or never go on vacation, so, thanks.

Idk man. My mom got mad at me for admitting I put the testing off but she of all people should understand when you have a chronic illness with no discernible cause sometimes you just wanna stop with all the tests and shit cause it’s useless. Again, I’d rather spent that $1200 on concert tickets (which I did, plus I’m paying that off each month in installments which I don’t think the hospital would let me do easily)

[pascalscoffin]

Away from the Devil pt. VI

Full Pedro Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Pt. VII coming soon

Warning: Minors Go Away I Will Kick You In The Forehead. I just don’t want kiddos here. Yeah it’s all rewritten with the reader added in if ya don’t like it don’t read it. Reader is female and uses she/her pronouns. Reader is around 24, Joel is 56. Reader is obsessed with Murder!Joel. Cursing. Typical tlou violence. Reader has… issues. One use of y/n

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You woke up in a hospital room with a throbbing in your head. “Fuck..” you mumbled, jumping when you saw movement from the corner of your eye. “Jesus!” You slip back on the bed. “Who the fuck are you?” She was… attractive, you could give her that, a nice looking woman for an apocalypse anyway. Which isn’t to say she looks nice cause she looks fucking rude. “Where are Joel and Ellie?” She squinted at you and crossed her arms. “You tell me who you are first. Then we’ll talk.”

You scoffed. “Fuck off. My head still fucking hurts by the way.” You rubbed the back of your skull. “They didn’t know who you were.” “Oh geez well that makes my headache completely go away. Look at that.” You scoffed and clenched your jaw. “My names y/n. Now. Where. Are. They?” The woman sighed heavily. “Marlene. Get up. Come on.” She shook her head and guided you out of your room.

You glared at the soldiers surrounding you as you followed her, trying not to rush to Joel’s side too fast. “Joel.” You took a deep breath, fighting the urge to check him over and make sure he was okay. “… where’s Ellie?” You looked over towards Marlene.

“She wasn’t hurt. Not even a scratch. She’s mostly worried about you two.” “Where is she?” Joel repeated. “We lost half our crew crossing the country. I had five men whose only job was to protect me and I still almost got killed.” “Hm. Maybe they weren’t very good.” “Stop.” Joel grunted beside you.

“How’d you do it? Is my point.” Joel took a deep breath and shook his head. “It was all her. She fought like hell to get here.” “She would’ve been dead on day one. You are the one person I never wanted to be in debt to. But I owe you. We all owe you.” “Just take us to her.”

“I can’t. She’s being prepped for surgery.” You and Joel looked at eachother before Joel looked at Marlene while you looked down. “What surgery?” Marlene took a breath before speaking.

“Our doctor.. he thinks the Cordyceps in Ellie has grown with her since birth.” “Why is she in surgery?” “It produces a kind of chemical messenger, it makes normal Cordyceps think that she’s Cordyceps too, that’s why she’s immune. He’s gonna remove it from her, multiply the cells in a lab, produce those chemical messenger, and then we can give it to everyone. He thinks it can be a cure, Joel. A cure.”

Joel sat back a little and took a while to speak. “… Cordyceps grows inside the brain.” You immediately felt sick to your stomach. Jesus fuck… “it does.” You looked up slowly as you saw her feet move towards the door. “Find someone else.” “There is so no one else. We didn’t tell her, we didn’t cause her any fear. There won’t be any pain.”

“No. No you take me to her. You take me to her right now!” Joel stood up and took a step and was immediately hit in the stomach with one of Marlene’s little Firefly soldiers’ guns. “Hey!” You stood up but when he took a step towards you, you growled lowly and knelt down to check on Joel, who nodded and put his hand up towards you before looking at the floor.

“Please… you don’t understand.” “I do. I was there when she was born, Joel. I promised her mother that I would save her child. I promised. So I do understand.” “Bullshit.” You looked up at her, your jaw clenched. “You understand? You made a promise to save her. Big fucking whoop. You’re sending her to her death without even fucking telling her. You’re a shitty friend and a shitty person.” You growled. “All for what? A maybe? Some fucking loser who THINKS it’s going to be a cure? Someone’s dying fucking wish and you’re stepping on it and rubbing it into the sand. Fuck you.”

Marlene’s jaw clenched tightly. “I’m sorry.” She looked at Joel. “I have no other choice.” “I do.” Joel responded, looking at you when you turned your head towards him. Marlene looked at him for a moment before nodding a little. “Take them out to the highway. Leave them there with their packs.” She pulled a knife- Ellie’s knife- from her belt and handed it to the soldier next to her. “Give him this.”

“He tries anything. Kill them. Both of them.” Marlene held her eye contact with Joel before looking at you as one of the soldiers yanked Joel to his feet and the other pushed you forward as Marlene left the room.

As you were being lead down the stairs your jaw was clenched so tight you almost thought your teeth were going to crack under the pressure when Joel slowed to a stop, you took one step before stopping and turning to him.

“What the fuck are you two doing? Keep walking.” One of them pushed Joel, causing him to bump you and knock you down a couple steps with him, not making you fall but causing you to stumble slightly onto the platform. “I said keep walk-“ his sentence was cut off with a groan as Joel slammed his elbow into his nose, knocking him into the other soldier before slamming him into the wall.

Joel pinned him to the wall with his body and angled his gun towards the other soldier, shooting him before he could get himself upright, then standing up and aiming at the other soldier. “Where is she?” “Fuck you.” “I don’t have time for this.” Joel shot him and turned away from him. Shots fired! shots fired! You heard over the radio.

You were pressed back against the wall, eyes wide as you watched Joel put Ellie’s knife into his pocket and then shove one pistol into your hand, and the other into his waistband before searching them for more ammo, splitting it between the two of you.

“Joel I don’t think-“ “shut up.” He turned to you and grabbed your shoulder, angling himself to look you in the eye. “You got this. I just need you to get my back, make sure I don’t get crept up on or nothin’ like that.” You looked down at the gun, then the guys on the ground and thought about how fast he’d handled that… “alright. Okay.” You looked back up into his eyes and immediately regretted it when you saw that furrowed brow thing he did when he looked at Ellie sometimes.

And then it melted into something else, something ravenous, dangerous.. and then he was turning around, holding the gun in his hands up and heading back up the stairs as he put his pack on. Jesus that shouldn’t have been as hot as it was… but god it was.

You followed him up the stairs quickly, putting your own pack on, and stuck close behind him, gun up as you peered behind him and into rooms you passed just in case, even making sure he got everyone in front of him. Of course, he did, and if he didn’t you didn’t need to catch them cause he would immediately turn and make sure he was the one that shot them in the head.

Until, as you were passing by a room someone ran out of the one on the opposite wall and tackled Joel to the ground, you flinched back and watched them wrestle with eachother before you got an angle to shoot him.

Only when you squeeze the trigger instead of that loud pop you heard a soft click. You looked down at the gun in your hands and then back up at them as Joel’s eyes widened a bit. The fucking fun was empty! You watched as Joel reached for the knife in his pocket, only for it to be slapped out of his hand before the gun was throwing him onto the ground.

You ran over to the knife quickly, your hands shaking as you opened it up before running over to the two of them and stabbing the guy in the neck, shoving him off of Joel as Joel let out a loud gasp as he drew in air, the man’s hands falling from around his neck. You let the knife slide out as the man fell to the ground, grasping at his throat.

You stumbled back a little as Joel got to his feet, your eyes locked onto the bleeding man as you swallowed thickly, your hand and Ellie’s knife covered in his blood, some had even gotten on your shirt and face when the knife had come out.

Joel’s voice faded in slowly as you watched the man bleed out, thinking back to the man that had almost killed you all those years ago, how his eyes had looked the same, full of light and then… dull, empty, and lifeless.

And then Joel was stepping in front of you and grabbing your face. “Hey.” You blinked rapidly, tears flooding your vision as you looked at him slowly, your eyes looking at the blood that had poured onto him, feeling a twist in your stomach you’d hadn’t felt since you were hiding out in the shed with one of the boys from Silver Lake, scared to be caught by David but in the throes of young passion.

Well that was new.

“We have to get Ellie before they start. Come on.” He took Ellie’s knife from you, cleaning it off as he started walking, grabbing the gun off the guy you’d just killed. You followed him slowly, your eyes glued to his lifeless ones. You thought killing a man would different, worse regardless of the situation, but you felt… lighter, relieved. It was nothing like killing a Cordyceps and that scratched at the back of your head as you and Joel made your way to Pediatrics.

After a while you got to the pediatric surgery ward, straightening up and tightening your grip on your gun as you walked through the door into the room behind Joel. A doctor and two nurses were standing over Ellie, the nurses pulling the oxygen mask off while the doctor stood and waited.

“Unhook her.” You stood behind Joel, silent as you looked at all the wires and needles stuck in her, swallowing thickly. “How did you get in here?” Joel raised his gun as the doctor stepped towards him. “I said unhook her.” He motioned to Ellie with it.

“I won’t let you take her.” He looked over and picked up a scalpel, pointing it at Joel. You couldn’t help but flinch at way the gunshot echoed when he shot the doctor in the head, causing the nurses to all but scream. “Unhook her.” He looked at the nurses, gun aimed towards them now. They looked at eachother, hesitant.

“MOVE!” Joel shouted. Now that was… a different kind of flinch. But this wasn’t the time to think about that. Joel just killed… so many people. And you, your first. Now is the worst time to think that way. The nurses sobbed and muttered please as they started unhooking her. “Cover her arm. Fast.” The nurse reached behind her quickly and taped a cotton ball to the pin prick before she raised her hands again. “Turn around.”

They spun around quickly as Joel reached down and picked up Ellie, you watched him, looked at the nurses, and then turned around and followed him out, swallowing thickly. You stepped onto the elevator with him and pressed the button he told you to press, hesitantly looking over at him. “… we couldn’t let them do it.” You whispered softly into the quiet of the elevator.

Joel shook his head slowly. “You were right. I couldn’t go through with it anyway. But her dying over a maybe… it’s not worth it.” He looked at you, and then looked forward as the elevator doors opened.

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You stepped out and when you saw an SUV with the hood up you headed towards it with Joel, stopping when you heard Marlene’s voice. “You can’t keep her safe forever.” You spun around and took a step towards her as Joel turned around, stopping when she pointed the gun towards you.

“No matter how hard you try, no matter how many people you kill, she’s going to grow up, Joel. And then you’ll die, she’ll leave. Then what?” She looked at you and then Joel. “How long till she’s torn apart by infected or murdered by raiders? Because she lives in a broken world that you could have saved.”

“Maybe. But it isn’t for you to decide.” Joel responded. “Or you. So what would she decide, huh? Cause I think she’d wanna do what’s right. And you know it.” Joel looked like he was starting to give in. “It’s not too late. Even now… even after what you’ve done.” Marlene started to lower her gun. “We can still find a way.” For a moment you started to believe the conflicted look on Joel’s face. How’d he gone from completely emotionless a moment ago and now seemed to be flooded with them completely flabbergasted you.

And then the shot rang out and Marlene fell to the ground with a yell, clutching her stomach. You looked at Joel quickly and saw that emotionless look back on his face again. Was he..? You looked at Marlene as you backed away, following Joel to the car as he put Ellie in, stopping halfway in when you heard Marlene groaning.

You watched as Joel closed Ellie’s door and walked around the SUV and over to her. You settled your foot back on the ground, watching him closely. You couldn’t stop watching him, it was like watching an accident or fire. You knew you should look away but there was some twisted part of you that found it… beautiful.

“No, wait. Wait, wait, wait. Please.” Marlene begged, her hand outstretched towards Joel. “Let me go.” She breathed heavily, wheezing. “You’d just come after her.” Joel pulled the trigger and turned around, holding eye contact with you as he came back to the suv, closed the hood, and finally tearing his eyes away when he climbed into the drivers seat. You got into the passenger seat beside him and slowly buckled your seatbelt.

The car was silent as Joel started it and then left the hospital parking garage. You were quiet for the drive, partially because you didn’t know what to say, and partially because you were scared of saying the wrong thing and sounding stupid, and then, you said the first thing that came to mind.

“I… so probably a shitty time for this but I… I wanted to ask about Sarah.” You said softly, looking over at Joel slowly. It took Joel a while but he hesitantly looked over at you and took a deep breath. “Sarah.. was my daughter. Before this.” He cleared his throat. “What happened..? You don’t have to tell me but.. if you want to I’m listening.”

Joel nodded and looked forward. He was quiet for a while and you figured maybe he didn’t wanna talk about it, and then you heard him start talking. “It was the first day. My brother Tommy… got himself arrested, called me about.. midnight or so to bail him out. Took me about two hours to make it back, had to kill our neighbor in front of her.” He sighed heavily. “We were driving through town, trying to find a way out, military was blocking main exists so we had to figure something else out.. anyway a plane crashed in town and the truck flipped…” he was quiet for another minute or so, likely thinking back to that night.

“She hurt her ankle so I had to carry her while we ran from an infected.” He reached up and rubbed his face. “Soldier shot it but… kept his gun on us. I kept… I kept telling him we weren’t sick, that she just hurt her ankle.” He cleared his throat. “His.. commander or whatever… told him to shoot us. I.. I tried to get her away from it but I just.. I didn’t turn in time.. and he got her.” He shook his head. “I held her in my arms while she died.” He mumbled, staring at the road ahead of him, his fist curled tight on the console between you.

You hesitated before reaching out and curling your hand over his fist, looking up at him. “I’m so sorry.” You whispered softly. Joel didn’t look at you, watching the road with a tight jaw, but slowly his hand relaxed under yours and turned over, your fingers winding together even if it was for just a second. Then it was like his brain caught up with his hand and he glanced at your hands before slowly pulling his away to drive with both hands. “You should sleep.” He cleared his throat. “Might need you to drive at some point.”

You were a little embarrassed to tell him you didn’t actually know how to drive, so you just nodded and shifted to try and get comfortable. “Okay.” You mumbled before pulling your legs up into your seat and closing your eyes.

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Taglist:

@romanarose @orcasoul @caitlynsixxx @shotgun-shelby

[anomalousanalogy]

South Park Zombie Starter

I'll accept any canon character, only tentative on Cartman! I'd prefer no violence between our characters, at most a distrust that doesn't build into anything worse ideally.

This was a reply for a TLOU starter - initially Butters found his way to Stan's farm but for this it could be anywhere, or anyone taking shelter in Tegridy, etc. Ideally it would also be just a generic zombie plot as well!

The idea is this is several years after the outbreak Butters finally has to move on from where he'd been holed up and ends up falling into a pit trap near your character's base.

Putting the starter under a break for length and also because it has some language involved. Please don't feel obligated to match length! I just go a little overboard on starters sometimes. Just let me know where you'd like to set up the RP and we can jump into it!

Butters isn't kidding himself. He knows the only reason he's still alive after all this is pure fucking insane luck. He's not strong, he's not a fighter, he's not particularly smart in a way that might've been useful during times like these, he didn't live in a family of doomsday preppers, and he's crafty but nowhere near crafty enough to get by as well as he has up until now. Maybe the biggest boon had been just how small and out of the way the town was. Not a lot of attention from the rest of the world, and after the first wave of the outbreak, almost no one stuck around that would've drawn in that kind of attention. That didn't mean there hadn't been threats or close calls, but somehow, out of everyone else in town as far as he can tell, he must have the best luck in the damn world. That, or someone out there really likes him. Unfortunately, good luck doesn't keep the shelves stocked, and he'd gone as long as he could rationing what he had left, but he's on his last bag of shitty cheese snacks (the Last Resort for food options, but at least they were pumped so full of preservatives that they stayed edible years after expiring) and he needed to find a new source of food before his strength started to wane. He'd already picked the houses and shops as clean as he felt safe enough to do; unless he wanted to risk getting trapped in an unfamiliar cramped location with something trying to eat him, he figured it might be time to start wandering. Besides, he remembered there being a few patches of farmland near town anyway. Most likely there wouldn't be anything still growing, but grain usually lasted a while, right? The first farm he hit came up bupkis and the sounds coming from inside the buildings themselves were enough to get him to move right along. The next though... way more promising. The fact that it looked like it was still being maintained to a degree was a great start, but as much as he wants to believe in the good of humanity, Butters isn't ready to risk a fight without getting something fresh in his stomach first. He doesn't even get close. Traps hadn't even been a possibility in his head. Stupid. The fall knocks the wind and the sense from him, and a throbbing pain in his leg tells him it's at minimum sprained, but probably not broken. His shoulder and head hurt more; rebound must have knocked him a goose-egg to be proud of, but at least he wasn't face down and vulnerable. When a face pops over the edge of the pit, he scrambles for the hammer at his hip - a stupid weapon, close range and slow, but it was the only thing he felt confident wielding - but it must have slipped away in the fall. Thankfully those few seconds he grappled with the dirt and leaves for it were enough time to realize this wasn't a monster. But now he can't be fully sure he wasn't just seeing things after a knock on the head and after so long being alone. So he figures a greeting wouldn't hurt - either it's not real and he's just going to be weird by himself until his head stops spinning, or... Well. He lifts both hands and waves them in a jaunty little jiggle before weakly calling out, "Yuh-you got me!"

[whumpflash]

cw: slavery, violence, adult language, emeto mention

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

×××

Judd did fall asleep before long.

Getting up in that state—head spinning, body wracked with nausea, and hands bound to boot—was next to impossible. So he stayed down. Let the blackness roll over him in the hopes that he'd wake with a clearer head.

But it wasn't dawn that brought him back to awareness, or even the chill that came with night. It was the feeling of a boot nudging his side. It was voices.

"Think he's alive. Guess this raid wasn't worthless after all."

"Fuck's he doing out here anyway?"

"Beats me. Pissed off the wrong guy by the looks of it."

Judd forced his eyes open. Two orange circles hovered over him, dully glowing against a black sky. Night vision goggles.

"Help me grab him and we'll get out of here," said the voice directly over him.

Grab him?

"Shit…" Judd croaked, trying to lift his head and immediately regretting it as he was hit with a fresh wave of dizziness.

"Damn, he's awake," said the other voice. Somewhere behind him. Male.

"He's not going anywhere," Goggles replied casually. As if to punctuate the statement, she kicked Judd in the stomach, driving the air from his lungs and compounding the overall shitty feeling.

He lifted himself as best as he could, and emptied his stomach right onto the woman's boots. 

It was mostly wine.

"Fuck!" she yelped, dancing away only to come back a second later with more kicks, short, sharp, and angry. Judd did his best to protect his stomach with his legs until the blows stopped.

"Is he fucking drunk?" her companion said, disgust in his voice.

"Who cares? Grab him. This better be worth it."

"It'll wash off, Rika."

"I don't give a shit!" She knelt, grabbed Judd's chin between two fingers, and forced him to look up.

"Do that again and you'll really be sorry."

"Didn't fucking try to, but you're making me wish I had," he cut back, and she shoved him away.

"Got a mouth on him too. We'll have to train that outta you."

It wasn't until she said it that everything clicked. The pair weren't fellow scavs, here to rob him blind and leave him. They were slavers.

He muttered a curse under his breath, but Rika ignored him, grabbing onto his forearm and hauling him roughly to his feet.

Judd swayed, struggling to not be sick again as he stared into the darkness, willing his eyes to adjust. Far in the distance he could see the muted glow of the camp. If he had to run blind, at least he had a direction.

He didn't hesitate. As soon as Rika turned to say something else to her partner, Judd broke free and ran.

It was a moonless night, too dark to see even a yard in front of him, but he didn't let that stand in his way.

He ignored how sick he felt, ignored the pounding in his head, ignored everything but the thought of what would happen if he stopped.

Judd wasn't about to lose his fucking freedom over a mistake.

'I'm not your enemy,' Skye had said. Yeah fucking right. Was this part of his plan? Leave Judd all trussed up and incapacitated for his slaver buddies?

He heard the man yell behind him—way too close for comfort—and pushed himself to go faster.

Any other time he'd be outmatched. Dehydrated, bound, unable to see. But running for your life gave you a kind of edge.

Camp was a few miles out, but he had friends there. Trading partners. All he had to do was get within shouting distance and he could get help.

If it weren't for the fucking acacia, he might've actually gotten away.

It was a tiny thing, barely knee high. It should've crumbled as soon as he came into contact with it, but Judd was the one to fall.

Without his arms free to stop him, he hit the ground hard enough to bruise.

The pair of slavers were on him in an instant, the man pinning him to the ground while Rika tied his legs together. She gagged him too, adding insult to injury.

"Try that again. I fucking dare you," she spat. The man threw him over his shoulder, and it took all of Judd's willpower to not be sick.

They made the trek back to the pair's landspeeders, slinging Judd across the back of one of them like a piece of cargo.

He'd blown his chance to run. Short of flinging himself off a moving speeder, there was no escape, and all that would do was break a few bones.

There would be more opportunities, right? He'd find one. He'd find a way. The alternative—spending the rest of his life a captive, bought and sold and forced to do who-knows-what—was unbearable to think about.

He'd find a way. He'd break free. Fight off the rest of the slavers once his head cleared, kill them all if he had to.

They'd made a mistake taking him. Judd was a fucking fighter.

It wouldn't be long before they learned that firsthand.

×××

[catgrump]

"you were outside for how long? without a coat?" "i'm fine, i swear." Kiribaku

So in this lovely No War AU, we also feature Trans!Kirishima! Enjoy!

🌻🌻🌻

Kirishima was in heaven. He was finished with his morning training and his sparring partner hasn’t left his side. Bakugo lay on Kirishima’s chest, rising and falling with the gentle rhythm of his breathing. Bakugo must’ve really worn himself out this morning… he was out cold.

And Bakugo never lets anyone see him like this. One of the reasons he goes to bed so early every night is to make sure he’s closed off from everyone else. One of the most vulnerable things you can do is sleep in front of someone else.

Kirishima felt honored to have Bakugo being this sweet and intimate with him. Not just “sleeping in the same room” but Bakugo is actively using Kirishima as a pillow. Every so often, Kirishima would run his fingers through Bakugo’s fluffy hair, and he’d feel Bakugo nuzzle closer with a muffled, sleepy noise.

Luckily, it’s the weekend, so they don’t have anywhere to be. “Out of everyone in our class,” Kirishima whispered, “you are one of the people who works the hardest. Rest up.”

“Shut up,” Bakugo sleepily mumbled, clinging a bit tighter, “don’t wake me up.”

“Sorry,” Kirishima chuckled, a hand returning to Bakugo’s hair.

“Wake me up when it’s time to eat or something,” Bakugo muttered.

“Yes sir,” Kirishma softly teased, but then he had another thought, “What if I’m hungry now?”

Bakugo looked up from Kirishima’s chest and his eyes were piercing. “I’m practically awake now anyway,” he grumbled, “Do you want lunch?”

“If you need to rest more—“

“No, it’s whatever. Let’s get lunch,” Bakugo said, but he wasn’t getting up.

“Well, I can’t get lunch if you’re like this,” Kirishima teased.

“Shut up,” was Bakugo’s retort.

“Dude—“

“Ugh, fine,” Bakugo caved in and shifted to be laying beside Kirishima, one hand on Kirishima’s chest.

They browsed Kirishima’s phone for places to go and settled on poke bowls, but neither of them wanted to leave this moment. The light from Kirishima’s dorm window was hitting them just right. It was so warm and so wonderful and they were so comfortable.

It took Bakugo’s stomach rumbling for them to actually get up.

“It’s a long walk to the bus when it’s as cold out as it is,” Kirishima explained, searching through his dorm’s closet, “Be sure to get your coat.”

“I left mine at home,” Bakugo replied, shortly.

“What?”

“Your ears broken, Shitty Hair? I said I left my coat at home.”

“Bakugo, what the hell?”

“What?”

“It’s winter; why don’t you have a coat?”

“I don’t need one.”

“Yes, you do?” Kirishima was baffled by this conversation.

“I’m fine, I swear,” Bakugo insisted.

Kirishima dug through his closet again, sifting through to find another coat, “So when we had that snow day recently,” he said, “you were outside for how long? Without a coat?”

“Kiri, it’s fine,” Bakugo is really serious when he uses even variations of people’s actual names.

Then Kirishima had an epiphany. He turned around and asked, “Is this a cis dudes thing?”

Bakugo squinted in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Kirishima started rambling, “Okay, back before I transitioned, something I always noticed at school was dudes still wearing their summer uniforms in winter, and wearing shorts when it snows out. I never understood why. Like, I always knew I was a dude myself, but like… this one thing made me question myself sometimes.’

‘It doesn’t seem manly to risk hypothermia,” Kirishima continued, “Do you have any explanation for this phenomenon?”

Bakugo crossed his arms over his chest and pouted, finally admitting, “I just don’t like that the cold makes me weak.”

Kirishima finally found another jacket that would be warm enough, “Oh shit,” he had another realization, “Yeah, your quirk—“

“Is harder to manage when it’s cold out. I want to overcome that.”

Kirishima approached, holding the jacket as an offering, “That’s why you’re here at UA, right? To figure these things out?”

Bakugo sighed and took the jacket, “Yeah…”

“Do you think All Might would want you to risk your health like that just so you can try to get a better tolerance for the cold?”

Bakugo pouted again, “Probably not.”

Kirishima extended his hand, “You can work around this. You can talk to Mei about getting some winter support items.”

And Bakugo slowly reached back out to take Kirishima’s hand, nodding in agreement.

“Come on,” Kirishima started toward the door, “Poke bowls await.”

[properbantz]

BEACH HUT CONFESSIONALS 009 (i think) — RHYS ALDRIDGE

day: 28

WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON MAX & DEJAN’S EXIT LAST NIGHT? WHY DIDN’T YOU VOTE FOR THEM? 

“ for obvious reasons, i couldn’t vote for them. ” he sighs. “ i wouldn’t have voted for them anyway, they weren’t even a real couple, like it was some weird dead poet’s society type of coupling situation and i think bash and i deserved more time to get to know each other. ” he’s staring dead at the camera, that was pointed, producers. 

HOW ARE YOU FEELING ABOUT THE START OF CASA AMOR? 

“ annoyed. to put it simply. ” sick to his stomach, actually. it was easier to know that bash was into him when they could be together, see each other and talk whenever they wanted to talk. he wasn’t having to ask for reassurance because he could pretty much get it whenever. his lips are twisted in thought, while he strings words together for a sentence. “ i... it’s real shit, you know? when people have something so new that they’re really trying to figure out and explore to split them up like this. because the one person i wish i could talk about all of it, about how i’m feeling is bash and i can’t. so it’s shitty. i wanted to talk to him about other things too, and so now i feel like an even bigger asshole because i decided to wait a couple of hours and this is what i get? i’m trying to do the right thing, i want to do the right thing but- ” he throws his hands up in a slightly frustrated what can you do motion.

ARE THERE ANY NEW ISLANDERS THAT HAVE CAUGHT YOUR ATTENTION? WHO?

“ honestly no. ” it’s not really for a lack of trying? but he’s not really interested in getting to know anyone else and making himself feel like an even bigger piece of shit while bash and him are still coupled up. he lets out a heavy sigh, “ i don’t know. not to be a dick or anything, i think they’re really nice. maybe it’s just me that feels like it’s all really disingenuous. like speed dating except i didn’t know i was hitting the buzzer for the next person. ”  he always thought the first time someone came up to him and said they were a big fan it would be because he just wrote netflix’s record breaking tv show or something of the sort, not because he had a menty b on television. 

ARE THERE ANY NEW ISLANDERS YOU DON’T SEE YOURSELF VIBING WITH? 

“ no not really. ” he’s not in the business of making enemies or fighting. frankly, he doesn’t think he could take it even if he wanted to, call him sensitive, he doesn’t care.  “ again, they seem nice, i’m just indifferent i think. ” 

DO YOU THINK THAT YOUR HEAD COULD BE TURNED?

that feels like a loaded question. targeted maybe.  “ i don’t know. ” his response is clipped. the thing is, he doesn’t feel like his head had been turned when it comes to both seb and bash. it’s not like there’s a one over the other and that’s what made this whole thing so stupid and complicated. note to self: ask the show therapist about monogamy and whether it’s right for you! “ turned by the new bombshells? probably not unless, i don’t know, they ticked all the boxes for the kind of person i’m into and if i let them go it’s going to feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest, worse than rose letting jack go from the titanic. ”  he looks at the camera again,  “ i know what you’re thinking. but it’s like holding the sun and the moon together, perfectly complementary, and beautiful all the same. one would feel empty without the other. ” he doesn’t mean seb and bash would feel empty without the other, more so that his sky would be lacking should there be no moon nor a sun. that’s exactly that he means and maybe this is the first time he fully understands it. he sighs again, tough shit.  

WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR ‘OTHER HALF’ IS UP TO IN THE OTHER VILLA RIGHT NOW? HOW ARE YOU FEELING ABOUT THEM? 

he sits quietly for a moment, anxiously cracking his knuckles.  “ chatting, getting to know everyone. he’s nice like that, always greeting you with the warmest smile you could possibly imagine. ”  there’s a flash of a smile on his face for the first time this beach hut as he talks about bash’s smile. if bash is getting to know someone else he’s sure they’d succeed where he had his own shortcomings. it’s not like he wants to think about how there could be bash’s perfect person in the other villa, looking at each other with hearts and stars in their eyes, but he has to be aware that there’s truth to it, maybe. and if there is some level of truth to it, he would be remiss to not attempt to find safety in one of the new bombshells.  “ you want me to say i miss him, don’t you? ” the small smile that had appeared earlier reappears again,  “ i miss him, obviously. but i’m trying to be breezy, less so like how i told dylan i attempted to and more like i’m rolling with the punches, taking things as they go and trying not to stay too in my head about what he’s doing over there. we’re... we’re still getting to know each other, nothing was official so i can’t expect him to not want to get to know other people either. i want him to be happy, at the end of the day, with whoever that’s going to be. ” 

[serenemy]

updated this one to include that i also thought if the neuropsychiatrist was on the right path with the trauma inquiries that it was the underlying medical issues themselves in addition to the other things i mentioned. i’m again not talking out my ass. that’s when i got suicidal. i wasn’t suicidal anymore when i saw the neuro but i was still pretty shitty

part of it i don’t want to bore you with is while all those things were happening—which overlapped with covid —my dog was costing me thousands of dollars in vet bills with a fucking horror show of medical mysteries. these situations alone could cause mild ptsd imho. but i was so sick i could hardly stand up and i was having to stand in these tiny vet rooms wearing a mask and first tell the whole story to the tech and then wait and tell it again to the vets. after having told it already to the person on the phone. she seriously had to be referred to specialists at one point so this was even multiple different vets. and every one of those was physically and cognitively excruciating for me

since your unspoken judgments have silently asked the question i will tell why i’m pretty sure i have medical ptsd (actually turning suicidal isn’t enough “trauma” to establish the claim when one is a buck v bell buck). i have two stories that are both TMI but kinda funny. stop reading if don’t like public coarseness

in May of 2021, my family was all vaccinated and finally getting together in person. i was ecstatically happy, like to the point of ugly crying about. we had to drive over to another part of the state. on that morning as we’re about to set out

i was bleeding from my asshole

FOR NO REASON

BRIGHT RED BLOOD DRIPPING INTO THE TOILET

AND I DIDN’T SO MUCH AS CALL A DOCTOR

do you know why?

i knew an absolute minimum of three people were going to ask me how i could be sure it wasn’t menstrual blood. and i just couldn’t do it. every step of it takes something physically that breaks me and makes my soul weep in despair. i can’t do it. i literally now have a family member who accompanies me to doctors appointments because i just wouldn’t go anymore if someone wasn’t basically making me. and i tell that family person ahead of time what i need to communicate. they go in with me because sometimes i just can’t do it and need them to take over and make the small talk for me and remember details

anyway i felt no worse than my usual shitty baseline and really, really wanted to see my family so i just used a pad and got in the car, y’all. it went away after a few days and i never thought about it again. (i was at some point diagnosed with a stomach infection that could have caused this but i don’t remember now if that had already happened when this occurred)

the second one is another time i got a bladder infection and they already incense me because you only need to have had ONE before to know what it is. so why can’t you just say “i have a bladder infection” and get a cup to go pee in. why do you have to tell the same story three times: once on the phone, once to the nurse/tech, once to the doctor. why do they need me to explain why i think i have a bladder infection at all? what answer could i give that would warrant withholding the cup?

why, frankly, do we have to talk at all ever? why is it expected that i just fucking do this on demand at any moment no matter how insignificant and formulaic the need? i know there are workarounds for people like me. there MUST be ways for non verbal people to receive mental and physical healthcare. you know what else i know?

i would have to tell this story orally to at least ten people before i could get anywhere with that. and each of those ten would have an untold number of challenging disbelieving questions to get to the next person, who will ask similar questions, in order to get to the next, etc

anyway at the time this happened, i was still trying to work at the office when they really needed it. the bladder infection hit on a friday and i needed to be in the office monday morning. had i called my doctor friday day they would have fit me in

but i couldn’t do it. the thought broke me. i decided i’d rather live with the infection until the last possible minute and go to a walk in clinic sunday evening. by walking in you cut out the phone call and only have to converse twice and they are more likely to just hand out scrips

SO I LIVED WITH IT FOR A WEEKEND

(there is some otc stuff now that masks the symptoms a bit)

and then when i went on Sunday night, this is what happened:

“there are too many white blood cells in your urine” (there are always too many white blood cells everywhere in my body in all my labs every time but no one can find a reason for this and it’s a moderate overage so we just live with this (and you wonder about my insomnia))

“but we can’t find an infection or any reason for you to be experiencing the symptoms you describe”

stares in do you start to see my point now

“so we have to try to culture one before we know what medication if any to prescribe”

i think it took about three or four more days, during which i had to go work at the office, bladder infection and all

days later: “wow you have a common bladder infection and need antibiotics”

YOU. DON’T. SAY.

it’s another example of feeling internal things more sensitively or something. and there’s a history of this going back decades and it’s always been traumatic for me on some level. feeling things too intensely means you feel them too early/soon and docs don’t find them, which leads to all the questions etc

anyway don’t let the more striking home assault stuff obscure the recent medical and family trauma stuff. the lawyer part of my brain is saying this, not the story teller part

[spacecadetspe]

Oct. 27, 2023

I hit another trigger today. It was small. Innocuous. And when it hit me, I went into a panic as if I'd been stung by a wasp.

Even rereading the message my colleague sent me sends tremors through me. I'm not altogether certain what has gotten into me.

I'll try to relate it here.

In my work, I use a system called Microsoft EBS. It's a shitty system, and most of my coworkers recognize that. It keeps track of thousands of clients, as well as any work that my company performs for them. Some companies require us to have or obtain a purchase order prior to either dispatching a technician or completing work. There's apparently a list. The colleague that emailed me is the one primarily responsible for attaching purchase orders to work orders.

Here's where it gets dicey. That list of companies that requires purchase orders is not up to date. So about 50% of the time, I get a pop-up regarding a purchase order for a company that doesn't actually need me to get one. My boss just says to ignore it and create the work order anyway, because POs are that colleague's job.

She's asked me once already to obtain certain purchase orders prior to having work done, but I can't possibly keep up with which companies this applies to and which companies it doesn't apply to, and EBS is no help at all.

She asked me about another such work order today; did I obtain a PO prior to dispatch or not? No, I didn't. And my boss (for the most part) will back me up and say I had no way of knowing whether or not I actually needed one, because nobody has bothered to update EBS to a point where that function (the informative pop-ups) actually works as intended.

So I went outside and tried as best I could to EMDR my way out of a trauma response. I'm still shaky, and I don't like it, but I'm here trying to figure it out for myself.

What was it that caused the trigger? Conflicting information.

And why was this triggering? Because I'm used to being fed conflicting information. It's why I don't trust myself or my own judgment.

Are you afraid of being gaslit again? Yes. Absolutely yes.

You know these people won't do that to you/ aren't able to do that to you again, don't you? Not really. As much as I adore working here, and love my coworkers, I don't trust that I won't be presented with conflicting information regularly.

Are you afraid of losing your job? It's not an immediate fear, no. It's there in the distant background, but that's not what makes me tear up.

Are you afraid you aren't good enough? Yes. I'm afraid that if I screw up enough times they (my company) will stop seeing value in me, even if I'm still in the learning process.

You know that's on them, not you, right? I can rationalize that bit in my head, but I'm not so certain I can process it.

Here's where I think it for the first time in awhile: I want Phobetor.

You can't always be using him as a crutch. I know.

I try to picture my favorite place: Fortitude's arms wrapped around me, nestled against his soft, dark chest. "It's okay, Babe. It's going to be okay."

It's the phrase I always say; the thing I most desperately want to believe. And this is the man who will believe me over anyone else.

I don't want to call on him, or Phobetor... not when I've been shut down before for this very thing; having trauma responses that nobody can seem to fix. Nobody but me.

I chase the feeling down my body. It starts in my throat, screaming "I want to go home!" No, we're not running from this anymore. It balls up in my stomach, angry and defensive. No, we're not fighting either. We're going to have a conversation; get to the bottom of this once and for all. It settles, a wide sling of emotions from my left hip to the right side of my ribs.

What do you want? I want to go home. No, what do you really want?

I want someone to fucking trust me!

... I don't want to be the one who has to come up with excuses for making a judgment call based on conflicting information, when I literally have the least seniority to do so, and the duty has just been pushed into my lap with the expectation that I deal with it. If it is suddenly my job to make that call, then I don't want my judgment called into question when I'm doing the best I can with limited knowledge of the situation.

X did this often. I hated it. My dad did it. I hated it. And I get it, I was a stupid, naive, reckless kid. But there is a way to advise and support without belittling or gaslighting.

My colleague did literally nothing wrong. She's just doing her job.

Dear gods, I really have a long way to go...

My pulse has come back down now. I'll try to work more on this trigger.

[tinierpurplefishes]

No wonder I've been feeling shitty in non-specific and hard to identify ways for the past few days. The back of my brain is bracing itself for another couple of days of surgery and a week or so in the NICU.

It occurs to me that I never really outright said what happened on here, tho I've talked about pretty much all the pieces.

Mid February last year, I started getting a rash. I'd had similar ones a few times before, and they'd gone away with some extra diligence in the shower, so I didn't worry about it. This one didn't go away. It got worse and worse, with my skin all inflamed and covered in pustules and peeling away. Eventually, it was basically like 1st degree burns over most of my body, 2nd in the worst spots. Except that so much skin was peeling off that it couldn't come away cleanly. The flakes would stick to each other and form these hard plaques with sharp edges that hurt even more when they poked into my inflamed skin, which was basically any time I moved, by that point. I was also having what seemed like a string of stomach bugs of some sort, with really bad diarrhea. Those had been gradually building since November, but we didn't put the pattern together until later.

After a couple of weeks of this, my mom made me go to Urgent Care, where some PA who didn't know enough about skin conditions said it was a yeast infection and sent me home with a prescription for an ointment that did nothing, because it was trying to treat the wrong problem. After another week, by which point I could barely walk, we went back to UC and got an actual doc, who said this was way out of her league, and I needed to go to the ER, specifically at Harborview (the rash was presenting much like a burn, and they have the best burn care center in like three states), right the fuck now, yes, even tho it was Sunday.

The ER was a hell of an experience, and could easily be a whole story all by itself, but they assured me that I was right to have come there, and got right on the job of trying to find a Dermatologist who was available at like 6pm on a Sunday. (The ER doc, for whatever reason, kept saying "skin doctor" instead of dermatologist, which really stuck with me.) They finally got one, and she made a preliminary diagnosis of psoriasis and gave me some better painkillers and stuck in an IV because I was so badly dehydrated. (The various blood draws and getting the IV were exactly as fun as might be imagined, given that my skin hurt anyway, and my veins were all hiding because of the dehydration.) Around midnight, they finally got me a bed in a regular room, with a roommate who had been having a shitty time as well and had hit the point of making it everyone else's problem. She eventually insisted on checking herself out, and I figured things were on the way to turning around.

Monday morning, a whole team of Dermatologists showed up, eventually confirmed the diagnosis, and got me started on Cyclosporine and some ointments that helped with the actual problem. One of them mentioned that it was the worst case of psoriasis he'd ever seen in person. I was still super weak, and having all kinds of trouble using the bathroom, but after a couple of days where things seemed to be getting a little bit better, they figured those would eventually clear up too, and got ready to discharge me.

Right as I was ready to go, tho, I had a severe pain in my right abdomen, lost most of what core strength I had, and got a strong sense of Impending Doom. I'd managed to get up and move to a chair, but now it took three nurses to shift me back to the bed, I'd become so incapable of holding myself up. They got someone in to do a chest X-ray, and while he had it up on the screen, the guy who was trying to put in a new IV said it was the clearest case of "air under the diaphragm" he'd ever seen, and that they needed to start paging Surgical and not stop until they got someone. Once they did, those folks literally came in at a run and started getting me ready for surgery. Because it was taking a little while to clear an OR, they gave me an MRI first (Which was possibly the most science fictional experience I've ever had. Very weird and uncomfortable procedure.), and then I really lose track of everything because the total sedation started around then, but it involved two days of surgeries removing about half of my large intestine and making sure they'd cleaned out everything that had leaked, and then, as I said, another week or so in the NICU, with at least a day or two completely sedated because I kept trying to pull out my breathing tube whenever I started to wake up.

Slowly, things got better. I was eventually able to drink small amounts of water without projectile vomiting and ease back on hitting the button for the Dilaudid. Some of the various tubes and wires were gradually removed. (At one point, my mom asked if they had me hooked up to literally everything, and after thinking about it for a minute, the nurse said no, I wasn't a seizure risk, so they didn't have the monitor for that attached.) They moved me to a regular room, and eventually I got to drink not just water, but juice. Still getting most of my nutrition from the IV, tho.

After a few more days, they started adding in very small amounts of actual (if extremely soft) food, so I had to start getting the ostomy bag changed, because there was actual material flowing thru what's left of my digestive system. Due to the constant skin peeling from the psoriasis, the bags didn't stick very well, so I started getting introduced to the experience of everything being literally covered in shit on a semi-regular basis.

I was still having trouble peeing, and thought I might have a bladder infection. That got me moved to a solitary room and a massive series of heavy duty IV antibiotics when the tests came back showing a major MRSA infection.

Things moved slowly, but they did keep getting better. The hole where one of the surgical staples came loose gradually got smaller (It started big enough that I could have stuck my whole finger in there without touching the sides. Now it looks like a second belly button.), and the PTs got me at least rolling over and eventually sitting up, if not standing yet. I had two hospital beds malfunction in different ways. I got to eat actual proper food again. More of the tubes and wires got disconnected.

After over a month in the hospital total, they finally sent me home (In an ambulance. First time I ever rode in one.), which entailed a whole slew of other issues. My mom and brother did what they could to clear things up around the house and in my room. My mom got a bunch of help from various places, getting grab bars put in and stuff like that, and managed to find a friend of hers who's an OT and was looking for some extra work.

The first time the OT came over, I was able to barely stand, clinging to a walker, for about 45 seconds. She was amazing, gave me a bunch of exercises and great tips on how to gradually learn to stand and walk again over the next few months.

In June, the first attempt at switching me from Cyclosporine to something more suitable for long term use failed horribly, with a really bad psoriasis outbreak, and I went back on those pills. Things keep moving more slowly than predicted, but they do keep moving. The surgeons originally said I could get the ostomy reversed in 6-12 months, but their Endoscopy department is so backed up that I'm still two months away from getting the colonoscopy I need first. The second attempt at switching to a monoclonal antibody treatment for the psoriasis seems to be working, altho the final test there doesn't come until next week, when I drop down from the doubled starter dose to the regular dose. I can walk around the block, which is more than I could do for over a year before all this went critical. It looks like a lot of my general declining health over the past decade or so has been related to the problems in my intestine, and probably also the MRSA and other infections that all those antibiotics blew out of my system.

So, yeah, overall, things are looking up, even if it has been a hell of a ride getting here, and part of my brain is worrying that it's about to start all over again.

I'm not entirely sure, because that whole chunk of time is kinda hazy, even by the usual standards of my memory, but I think today is the anniversary of when my large intestine finally actually fell apart and I nearly died and got rushed into emergency surgery and all that. It's either today or tomorrow. Very thankful that I felt shitty enough even before that that I didn't let them discharge me from the hospital. If I'd been on the way home by the time I realized just how bad I was feeling, we never would have made it back to Harborview in time.

[appalamutte]

A bag is dropped in the chair across from Eric, and when he looks up from his phone and half-cold bowl of pasta, he finds Camilla Collins standing before him.

“Oh,” he says through a mouthful of penne, struggling to swallow it as quick as possible. It hurts a bit when he finally gets it down. “Hi, there!”

Camilla goes to sit down beside her bag and smiles sweetly over at him. “Hey. Eric, right?”

“Yup, though everyone really just calls me Bitty -- because of my last name, not my size.” Eric screams internally. “Anyway, you didn’t need to know that, sorry.”

Camilla just chuckles and props her elbows onto the table, resting her head on her fist. She’s staring at him like she knows something, but her gaze still looks a bit inquisitive. It’s disconcerting, really. Eric knows she’s Jack’s ex, or ex-hook up, or whatever. Holster and Ransom always mention her at Haus parties when Jack’s clockwork absence is noticed, drunkenly cheering about finally getting her back in bed, and Shitty has vaguely confirmed they were involved with each other on more than one occasion. But no one has ever given Eric a straight answer on Jack’s and Camilla’s history.

It’s not like he’s been able to ask about it much, though, either. Eric’s pretty sure Shitty’s starting to pick up on his hopeless schoolground crush with all the questions, and he can’t even look Lardo in the eye when Camilla’s name is brought up anymore. He can only say a silent prayer of relief that Holster and Ransom are too preoccupied with personal endeavors to notice anything, because he’s certain he’d never hear the end of it from them if they knew.

And no matter what, having said crush’s ex-something sitting before him makes the pasta Eric just swallowed sit uneasily in his stomach.

“Bitty, that’s cute,” Camilla says, and it’s not condescending in any way. “You’re on the hockey team, right? With Jack?”

Eric tries to give a humored smile. “What, do I not look the part?”

“Not at all,” Camilla easily smiles with him, “but I like that. There’s too many meatheads on that team. We’ve been needing someone like you for a long time.”

“Hah, yeah,” Eric says, absentmindedly twisting his fork in the pasta, “good thing I’m here then. Those boys finally have actual dinners rather than microwaved bagel bites. And that kitchen when I moved in? An absolute biohazard, lemme tell you. I think I spent a week scrubbing everything, and another full day just cleaning the inside of the fridge. There was also a cabinet solely for sriracha, and, like, really? I think they had at least thirty bottles of it.”

Eric knows he’s babbling on now, but Camilla has this sparkle in her eye and she’s listening so intently that Eric has to catch himself from letting more unnecessary words tumble out. “And now I’m just rambling,” he finishes with an awkward laugh, “sorry about that.”

“You don’t have to apologize so much,” Camilla tells him, “it’s cute. You’re cute.”

Eric blinks and, with the way she’s looking at him, blurts: “Are you hitting on me?”

“What?” Camilla sits back suddenly. They just stare at each other, both wide-eyed, before they both laugh loud enough for the tables around them to turn their heads. Eric laughs, and laughs, and he thinks at some point Camilla is still laughing just because he’s still laughing. He can’t stop, though. Her laugh is light and airy, a melodic sound that matches everything else about her. It’s nearly perfect. And Eric’s own sounds too shrill and uncontrolled, so he just laughs harder because his heart is plummeting and when he stops it’ll be all too real that he’ll never stand a chance with Jack -- especially if he really was with Camilla at some point.

Which is pathetic because Jack is straight. His ex sitting before Eric with blinding beauty is only adding insult to that injury.

Finally, after too long, Eric wipes at the tears in his eyes and takes a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ask that,” he says when they’ve calmed down enough. “I don’t know why I even did.”

“I was coming on pretty strong, wasn’t I?” Camilla runs a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face in the process. They have the same hair color. “I’m sorry for that.”

“No -- don’t apologize!”

She waves a hand dismissively, and Eric watches it, unable to stop from comparing his calloused ones to her soft-looking ones. “Anyway, I just wanted to come by and meet you for myself. Jack told me you’d be here.”

Eric nods and desperately tries not to blush. His cheeks heat up anyway. “Yeah, cold pasta always helps after bio lecture.”

“I bet,” Camilla says, and there’s that glint in her eyes again when she continues: “I’ve heard a lot about you, Bitty.”

“You have?”

“Yeah. He’d be stupid not to go for you.” At first, Eric thinks he wasn’t supposed to hear that with how quiet her voice fell. But then her gaze quickly drops down to his body, then to his hair, before meeting his eyes again, and he’s definitely meant to hear: “He really does have a type, too.”

Eric blinks, opens his mouth but finds he can’t say anything, and Camilla bids him farewell with a promise that he come by and watch a tennis match sometime. Maybe he waves, though he isn’t sure. He just watches her leave, winding through the tables until she’s out the door and there’s nothing but his rapidly beating heart and bright red cheeks left in her wake.

He has a type? 

Then, twisting up the cold pasta in his stomach one more time:

Who’s he?

[sunmoonandeddie]

and he kissed me right here

pairing: modern!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 6,100

summary: I've always been sure that all I ever wanted was a glamorous life.

warnings: Cuss words, mentions of the Afghanistan war (Bucky is a veteran), angst, happy ending, cheesy romantic confessions, age gap

a/n:  This is based on the song 'Stars and the Moon' from Songs for a New World! It's the first one shot in my musical series! This is written in first perspective, but there is no physical description or use of a name in this!

Twenty-Two

I sighed as I tossed a few more dirty plates into the dish window, wiping my brow. After a shitty dinner rush and an even shittier rush around two in the morning consisting only of drunk ass college kids looking for some sort of carb to suck up all the alcohol in their systems, I was ready to go the fuck home.

“Sweetheart, you head on home now,” the head chef insisted as he watched my head nod slightly as I tried my best to fight off sleep. “Ain’t nobody comin’ in before Melissa gets here. No point in you staying on your feet any longer.”

Louis was a godsend. At sixty-seven years old, you’d think he would rather be anywhere but a diner at almost four in the morning.

“Nah,” he had said when I’d asked him a few months after I’d first started. “My Ginny died a few years back, and since she’s been gone, I don’t really have the stomach to sit around that house all alone.” He had laughed, but there’d been a deep sorrow that had come over his deep brown eyes. “Kids are worried, but… Sleeping the day away is better than laying up at night staring at her side of the bed…”

“You sure, Lou?” I asked even as I headed for the back room where all the employees clocked in and kept their possessions in their own little cubbies. I did my checkout in view of the security camera, just like always. I didn’t want anyone to be able to say I stole anything.

Everyone who knew me knew that I wouldn’t, but I’d worked at two many places where the girls tried backstabbing each other and sabotaging everyone else to get them fired.

Though people were a lot nicer in Louisiana than any of the other places I’d lived.

Louis chuckled as he set a to-go box in the window, nodding towards it. “Mmhm. Long as Buck is getting you home safe.”

I gave him a joking eye roll as I took the to-go box gratefully, grinning at my name written in all caps with green Sharpie on top. “You know you don’t have to make me dinner every night.”

“Yes, I do,” he said, shooting me a look. “How else do I know you’re getting enough food in you, huh?” He pointed his rag at me. “Now you go ask him to get you home. Tell him I said he can clock out, and that he’s supposed to text me when he sees you safe inside. You better not say you’re gonna ask him again just to walk yourself home.” The old man shook his head as I headed for the back door, muttering to himself, “Damn girl thinks I’m gonna believe she’s feeding herself good enough when she’s risking her damn ass walking home alone.”

Despite the fact that I’d put off asking for Bucky Barnes’s service, I really did appreciate how fiercely Louis cared about me.

It had been a real long time since anyone had cared so much.

I hesitated at the back door of the diner, my hand resting against the cool metal.

What if he said no?

Granted, he most likely wouldn’t. But what if he said yes, and he secretly thought me some dumb little girl that couldn’t take care of herself?

What did I care if he thought that?

“I don’t care what he thinks of me,” I huffed as I straightened my shoulders, holding my chin a little higher.

“Stop talking to yourself and get going!”

I jumped in surprise, before shooting a glare in the direction of the kitchen. “Stop listening in on my private conversations!” I demanded before storming outside with new found vigor.

Only to freeze when Bucky looked up from where he was sitting on the curb, smoking a cigarette.

God, he was handsome.

“You okay, doll face?” He asked, his New York accent a sharp contrast to the southern drawls you were used to.

“Um… Y-Yeah,” I said faintly, glancing back at the door that I’d come in from. “Um… L-Louis wants me to ask you… Can you walk me home? Or give me a ride? I don’t… I don’t know if you drive…”

“I do drive.”

“O-Oh. Okay. Great.”

“But I don’t have my car on me.”

I peered at him curiously. “Oh. Um… I can just walk by myself. I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna be a nuisance…”

He stood up, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. “Don’t be ridiculous, darlin.’ Come on. I’ll walk you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he began to head for the street. “Besides… It’s a real nice night.”

“Oh…,” I said in surprise at how ready he was to be of service. “Okay. But only if you’re sure.”

A faint smile graced his lips as he glanced at the ground, letting out a faint chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest. “I’m sure, darlin.’ But you gotta lead the way.”

I was surprised by the rapid pitter patter of my heart beat as we walked side by side down the street, the chorus of ‘Yellow Brick Road’ getting stuck in my head on a loop.

Bucky was an enigma that I found myself wondering about more often than not, but I always ended up talking myself out of going there. After all, he was an older man. A much older man. At least fifteen years older than my own twenty-two years, or something along those lines, not that he looked it. The man looked like some kind of rugged Greek god. Like Hades if Hades was born in the eighties. His dog tags clinked together under his shirt as we walked, his metal prosthetic glinting in the moon.

“So how did you end up in NOLA?”

It took me a moment to even realize that he was talking to me, my heart skipping a beat and my face going hot in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked.

His bright blue eyes flickered over to look me over. “How’d you end up in New Orleans?”

“I actually don’t know,” I snorted, avoiding his eyes as I kicked at a few broken up pieces of asphalt. “I just… Picked a bus ticket and ended up in one of the Carolinas. Then I picked another bus ticket and ended up in Minnesota. And then I picked another, and another, and another, and then I actually just… ended up here.” The months I’d spent alone on those Greyhounds felt both so long ago and also like it was just yesterday. “The diner was the first place someone recommended for food that’s good but cheap, and as I was eating my mountain of cheese fries, I saw the flyer that said they were hiring. So here I am now…”

“Huh,” he said, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t take you for the type of person to run off on your own… riding buses all over the country…”

Head tilting to the side, I gave him a long look. “You didn’t? What kind of type did you peg me for?”

Bucky gave me a long look, a single brow raised as though silently telling me that I jumped to conclusions. “Just that jumping from place to place can take a lot outta someone,” he said slowly, his voice low and soothing. “Hell, if you were my girl—” He broke off as his cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, his long hair falling in his face.

I swore my heart had stopped inside of my chest, and I swallowed thickly around the lump in my throat. “Oh?”

He rushed to try to correct his wording. “I-I just mean, a lady should be comfortable. And if I had a g-girl like you, well… You’d never want for anything,” he stammered, stumbling over his words like a flustered school boy. “Hell, I… I’d give you the stars and the moon…”

I was shocked into silence, staring up at him like he was the sun itself. “Bucky…”

“No, no, don’t say anything. I… I know that was a lot,” he insisted quietly, unable to meet your eyes as he stared up at the shitty apartment building you called home. “Hell, you probably don’t want a gross old man hitting on you.” His metal hand, glinting in the low light of the street lamp, reached up to brush against my cheek for just a moment before it quickly dropped. “Just let me walk you home each night so I can make sure you’re safe, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I breathed out, unable to take my eyes off of him as he took a few steps back.

There’s a somewhat playful smirk on his lips as he watched me stumble up the steps, continuously glancing back at him. “Goodnight, baby doll.”

“Goodnight,” I said, barely audible before I finally headed inside.

Bucky kept his word. He walked me home every night, and honestly, there wasn’t a moment that I wasn’t thinking about what he had said, about if I was his girl.

What if I was his girl?

But… with that meant I’d have to give up the life I’d dreamed for myself. I wanted luxury, to never worry about bills or where I was gonna get my next meal or if I could afford to buy the nice work shoes or if I could only get the cheap ones that would fall apart in three months and then I’d just be right back where I started.

I wanted the life that celebrities lived. Hell, I wanted to go to parties on the same yachts the Kardashian-Jenners did, even if I couldn’t fucking stand them.

And with Bucky… I wouldn’t have that.

“So why’d you go on the run anyway?” Bucky asked one night as we sat on the curb, eating ice cream in the Louisiana heat. “I know you told me how you got here, but you’ve never told me why.”

“You’ve never told me how you ended up here or why either,” I shot back, nudging his shoulder with my own.

Somehow the age difference seemed non-existent as we sat there. Honestly, I felt like we were just a bunch of dumb teenagers, shooting the shit and enjoying each other’s company.

Bucky took in a deep breath, his shoulders sinking in a way that made it look like he had all the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I was over in Afghanistan for a long time,” he admitted quietly. “When the war first started, I was 19. I had no idea where my life was going and I had no options except my dad’s mechanic shop. So I enlisted with my best friend, Steve. The one I told you about.”

It’s completely silent except for the sound of an occasional car horn off in the distance.

“Neither one of us knew what we were doing. We realized very quickly that we had no reason being over there, but… but there was nothing else,” he said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. The ice cream he was holding was melting in his trembling hands. “I didn’t know how to do anything else, so I stayed. Steve moved up in the ranks, but I stayed pretty low… I didn’t mind. Kinda liked being the older guy all those young kids could talk to, could rely on… Because they were just like me, getting into a fight that wasn’t theirs because they had nothing else.”

My heart was shattering inside my chest as I scooted a little closer, my knee knocking against his as I tried to give him some sort of silent comfort. He’d been through Hell and made it through.

Bucky let his head rest against mine, his eyes closing as he breathed in the scent of my perfume. “They eventually moved me to some kind of specialized team… Called us the Howling Commandos. I found out that Steve was heading it and he picked me to be part of it. That’s how I met Sam, because he was on some sort of similar team with the Air Force, except it was just him and his friend, Riley,” he continued, taking a bite of his chocolate fudge brownie ice cream. “I am proud to say that I didn’t kill a single person while I was over there. I just couldn’t. Hell, they’re people just like me, terrified and unsure of what’s going to happen.” His lips pressed against my forehead, letting it linger. “But then about five years ago, I was on a mission with the Commandos, Sam, and Riley, and… this bomb went off while we were playing a game of soccer. I wasn’t even in a fight. That thing took my arm and it took Riley.”

Tentatively, I let my fingers find his, holding his hand and squeezing reassuringly.

“Sam decided to come home with me.” There was a forlorn look in his eyes, as though he was right back at that game of pick-up soccer. “After losing Riley… he couldn’t find a reason to be over there. And then Steve decided to stay, and hell, he’s still over there, leading that fucking team…” Glassy baby blue eyes finally found mine, the both of us doing our best to not cry. “I couldn’t face my family for a long time, so Sam asked me to come stay in Louisiana with him and his family, and I haven’t left since.”

“Have you gone to see your family?” I asked slowly, almost like I was scared I’d frighten him if I spoke too loudly, like a wild animal. “Let them know where you are? That you’re safe?”

He turned to look at me, his baby blues shining. “You worried about me, baby doll?”

“I can’t help it,” I said honestly, unable to tear my eyes away. I hadn’t opened up to someone like that in so damn long. “I can’t help but worry about you.”

The way that I felt about Bucky absolutely terrified me, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. It snuck up on me, like a train coming around a bend.

I hated it.

“What do you want out of this life?” Bucky asked on one walk home, his arm linked in mine. He’d become so much more… tactile. If anyone took a moment to look at us, they’d think we were a couple on a romantic stroll.

Perhaps we were.

But I couldn’t help but grin as I looked up at the sky, taking in the warm air. “I wanna live like how the movie stars do… I want a big house on the beach and twenty cars and a yacht and… and…”

He looked at me long and hard. “And you never wanna have to worry about where your next meal is coming from, if you’re gonna have a place to sleep at night…”

For some reason, I’d felt a bolt of panic over whether or not he’d understand. Whether or not he’d think differently of me, but I should’ve known that he wouldn’t. Hell, he knew me better than anyone else.

“You understand,” I said quietly, my hand squeezing his bicep gratefully. “I want to live how the other half lives for once. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

A small smile graced his features as we shuffled along. “There isn’t. But… What about love?” He asked.

“Love?”

“Love.”

Love.

Could I even have love? Did I want it?

“I don’t know if there’s a lot of room for love in my plans,” I admitted after a long moment. “In my experience, love has always just been a lie. A word used to manipulate and eventually abuse.”

Letting out a snort, he let his fingers tickle down my tricep until his fingers intertwined with mine. “I’d show you it’s not… I’d show you what real love is,” he said. “I’d give you every part of me, give you all my strength to help you grow into who you wanna be, even if I don’t particularly care about being famous or rich…” He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “I’ll give you a love story, a life, that’s a million times better than any recycled Hollywood plot… I’ll give you the stars and the moon, if you would just let me.”

I hated the way that he made my heart beat faster, the way my breath hitched. “Jamie,” I breathed out quietly, the two of us having stopped in our tracks to just… take each other in. Live in each other’s presence for a moment. “I…”

“You want a big life… one a lot bigger than little old me,” he said simply, shrugging. His blue eyes were so honest, so loving. So warm. A warmth I hadn’t ever experienced before. “I know. But that doesn’t change that I’m in love with you. And if you ever change your mind…” Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, pressing it into my free hand. “This is where you can find me. I figure it’s time for me to go home.”

We’d come to a stop in front of my building, and I was shocked at how tight my chest felt. My eyes watered as I stared at him long and hard. “Jamie, please… I⏤”

“Don’t say it. It’s okay,” he insisted as he cupped my cheek, letting his thumb run over my skin as though he was memorizing it. “I just want you to be happy, darling. You got that?” His lips pressed to my forehead, letting it linger. “Go get that life you’ve been dreaming of.”

Twenty-Three

I left New Orleans the next day, grabbing a bus ticket after throwing all of my belongings into my old duffel bag. It was time to move on.

But God, did it hurt.

I didn’t stop crying for weeks, fighting the urge to go right back to Louisiana and tell Bucky to take it back, to get him to beg me to stay with him.

But what kind of life would that leave me with? Working in the diner day after day? Never getting anywhere?

But you’d have James, a voice inside my head reminded me snarkily.

Then again, he most likely wasn’t even in New Orleans anymore, if what he said was true when he gave me the business card of his father’s mechanic shop. Was he really planning on going home to New York City?

A few months later, and I’d worked my way all through the southwest to Santa Fe, where I met Pietro.

My heart was pounding as I pressed in the familiar numbers, having memorized them from the business card now soft and faded from how often I held it in my hands like a lifeline. “Come on… Pick up… Pick up…”

“Barnes Tires and Motors, this is George,” a man said in a gruff voice when he finally picked up. “How can I help you?”

“H-Hi, is James there? James Barnes? Bucky?” I stammered out, hands trembling so bad that the old payphone was almost rattling.

There was a pause, and then muffled talking away from the phone.

And then I heard it being picked up. “This is Bucky,” he said.

It felt like the wind had been knocked right out of my lungs. How had I gone so long without hearing his voice?

Breathing in sharply, I tried to figure out the words to say. But my throat was dry and it was like I’d suddenly forgotten the entire English language.

That was all that it took for Bucky to realize it was me. “Baby doll? Baby doll, is that you?” He asked quietly. “I…” He took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “You don’t gotta say a thing, sweetheart… But just know that if you’re in trouble or you need help or… or anything at all, you better call me…” His voice wavered, as though he was fighting tears just like I was. “God, I miss you so much, baby doll. I love you.”

I love you, too.

I hung up before I could actually say the words. “God, I’m so fucking stupid,” I whispered as I leaned back against the wall of the gas station I’d found myself at, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes.

My dumb ass had decided to wander from the bus station, and I’d walked over a mile away. Unless I was staying in Santa Fe for a bit, I’d need to start making my way back.

“You okay?”

In my distress, I hadn’t even heard the rumbling of the motorcycle or noticed the handsome man making his way to me. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” I said even as I wiped my nose with a pathetic sniffle.

He eyed me for a long moment, his eyes roaming over my figure. “You hungry? I know a great little place nearby. My treat.”

And well, I was never one to turn down free food.

Even if that ‘little place’ ended up being a food truck.

“You know, when you said it was a little place, I didn’t picture it having wheels,” I said teasingly, licking salsa off of my lower lip. “Though, it is the best food I’ve ever gotten from a food truck before.”

“Oh, come on. This is the best food of all time!” He laughed, shaking his head.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” I snorted, finishing off my flautas.

Pietro looked at me long and hard. “So, are you gonna tell me what the hell was going on to have a pretty girl like you all teary eyed?” He asked, his head tilting to the side.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Was this your plan all along?” I asked. Wiping my hands off on a napkin, I did everything I could to avoid his eyes. “Get me all fed and then question me?” But at the same time, the thought of being able to finally talk to someone about it was so appealing… After a long moment of hesitation, I finally gave in. “I fell in love with a man, and he let me go because he knew that I want a life he can’t give me,” I said. “And I was a bitch who didn’t even tell him I love him back when he said it to me.”

Pietro took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “Damn. You really are a stone cold bitch, aren’t you?”

“Hey!” I indignantly threw a chunk of tomato at him, glaring. “I just opened up my heart, you dickwad.”

“Dickwad?!” He said, blinking at me in shock. “No one’s ever called me a dickwad before.”

I raised a single eyebrow at him. “Maybe not to your face, but they definitely have.” He gave off the vibe of a fuckboy, of a really, really bad fuckboy.

“Well, since you’re running away from your feelings, how about you spend a week or two with me on the road?” He asked with a grin.

I couldn’t help but blink at him in shock. “What?” I let out a laugh, pulling one of my legs up to my chest. “Do you throw that line out to every girl you meet? Or am I just special?”

Pietro threw a chip at me, and I barely managed to dodge it. “No, I don’t. But… You remind me of me. Needing adventure. A life bigger than four walls and a fence.”

Instinctively, I wanted to snap back that sometimes, four walls and a fence could be an adventure, could be the biggest life there was, as Bucky’s face flashed across my mind.

But I couldn’t do that. Not when I wasn’t ready to face the truth myself.

“Come on, sweet cheeks,” he teased as his foot hooked around mine. “Just think of it. The open highway, a rhythm beneath your feet… Nights full of passion and days of adventure…” Pietro’s voice was deep and husky, as though he was trying to lure me in. “No strings… just warm summer rain soaking us to the bone before we find some cheap motel to huddle down in…”

Plastering on a smile, I stood up and brushed myself on. “Thanks, but… I’d rather be drinking champagne, and the quicker I get to LA, the sooner I will be.”

He let me go with a kiss on the cheek and his cell number pressed into my hand, with a promise to come and pick me up the second I rang.

And despite how sweet he was, how wild and funny and charismatic, there was only one man I wanted to call.

Twenty-Four

I sipped at my martini as I sat at the rooftop bar, absentmindedly watching the television that was mounted on the wall as people droned around me. I’d been in Los Angeles for a year, and I’d spent my time finding the best places to find a husband who could give me the life I dreamed of.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, it took connections to build a career, and the best way to get a foot in the door when nepotism was so rampant was by marrying someone in the industry.

My silk dress was the most expensive thing I owned, something I’d saved up for months for, had skipped meals for. And fuck, was it worth it. I could feel the stares, the lingering gazes on the little bit of thigh that was exposed by the slit in the dress.

I’d already turned away several men, able to tell just from their expensive watches and cheap suits and shoes.

It was amazing how all the up and coming finance bros thought they fit in with the truly big dogs.

“Well, hello, gorgeous.”

I turned to see who was speaking, my heart skipping a beat when I realized who I was speaking to.

The world famous (or infamous) director, Tony Stark.

“Hello, handsome,” I said smoothly, my lashes fluttering innocently as I took a sip of my horrible drink.

I fucking hated martinis. Always had.

But ordering a martini was more sophisticated than ordering a frozen strawberry margarita.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked as he motioned to the empty bar stool right next to me, even as he was already sitting down. “Let me buy your next round.”

“I can’t think of anything better,” I said, feeling as though my dream life was already in reach.

Twenty-Eight

“Tony, where are you taking me?” I laughed as I let my boyfriend lead me to the private dock at our Malibu mansion.

Well, his mansion. I just happened to also live there.

It had been a whirlwind of a year since I had met Tony, and he’d bought me that second round. He’d taken me all over the globe, anywhere my heart desired.

But I made sure to avoid New York City, though he never understood why. I would never tell him.

Not when I was so close to my dream. I could practically taste it.

“Come on, come on. I have a surprise for you,” he said, keeping his hands over my eyes. He was sure to keep me from tripping and busting my ass, thank god.

The ocean waves were so comforting as they hit the shore, a sound I’d gotten used to over the past year.

He finally brought me to a stop, quietly telling me to keep my eyes closed. “Okay,” he said finally. “Open them.”

My eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the bright light of the California sun. But I was more shocked by the sight of Tony on one knee in front of me, holding out a box with a sparkling diamond ring in it. “Tony?”

The ring was the size of a fucking meteor. It was easily the biggest ring I’d ever seen.

“You know, I never thought I’d meet someone like you,” he said quietly, his dark eyes shining. But his voice was steady. “Someone who understands me, who doesn’t expect me to change into someone I’m not. You accept me as I am, and that’s why I want to give you the world.” He couldn’t help but grin as he nodded to the right. “Starting with that yacht you’ve always dreamed of.”

I hadn’t even noticed that there were two yachts at his private docks instead of just the one. The new one had SS Princess emblazoned on the side, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh… Tony…”

“So, what do you say?” He asked, bringing my attention back to him. “Will you be my wife?”

“Yes.”

Thirty-Two

Swallowing nervously, I looked down at the business card in my hand for the millionth time, the stock paper soft from how often I’d looked at it in the past ten years.

Hell, just how often I’d looked at it in the past six should’ve made it fall apart by now. Not that I didn’t have it memorized.

I’d finally ended my marriage after being miserable for so long. I’d gotten my yacht, my fancy houses, my career, all the jewelry that I could dream of, and none of it made me happy. Tony and I… never grew. And I never dreamed. Every day was the same, and every day was torture as I realized that I didn’t have the one thing that actually mattered.

The garage in front of me was busy, music blasting and the sound of men shouting to each other as they worked.

Suddenly I felt absolutely ridiculous wearing a Chanel dress and Gucci heels, an Hermés bag on my arm.

BARNES TIRES AND MOTORS was lit up along the top of the shop in bright red letters, though the lights in the ‘r’ of ‘motors’ were out.

I felt like a fool. I had wanted the life I had so desperately that I gave up everything for it. I got the movie star life, my name on billboards and my face on magazines.

But it wasn’t ever enough.

My heels clicked against the blacktop as I slowly made my way towards the front area of the shop, bells clinging above my head to let them know someone was there.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” A man asked as he came around the corner.

He looked so much like Bucky, it punched the air straight from my lungs.

“H-Hi. I’m looking for James Barnes. Is he here?” I asked after a long moment of hesitation. There was no way that the man was Bucky, but I didn’t doubt he was related.

The man raised his brows, wiping his hands on a rag. “My son’s in the shop. I’ll take you to him.” His full head of hair was white, his thick facial hair matching. Even with all the wrinkles on his face, he was a handsome man. Holding open the door for me, he led me into the loud shop, some eighties rock song blasting over the speakers.

I couldn’t help but smile as ‘Rock You Like a Hurricane’ by Scorpions came on. It was one of Bucky’s favorites back when we worked in the diner together.

“BUCK! YOU GOT A VISITOR!” The man shouted, causing several people to look our way.

My cheeks felt hot as I avoided their gaze, hoping they wouldn’t recognize me. I didn’t want to be a famous movie star anymore, a celebrity that had to beg for scraps of privacy.

My mind went numb, my heart stopping inside my chest as he stepped around a gray Ford Escape another man was working on.

He was even more handsome than he was the last time I saw him.

“Can I help y—” He broke off, his blue eyes going wide when he realized that it was me. “Hi.”

All of a sudden, everything I’d planned to say flew out of my head. All of the eloquent words I’d strung together were gone. And I just proceeded to word vomit.

“Did you know that, uh, when you marry someone you’re not in love with, you won’t… you won’t grow into it?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Um… I married a man who could give me a life I thought I always wanted, and he just… sucked.” Eyes stinging, I fought back against tears. “And I thought that all I ever wanted was the life I have now, was the life movie stars and the Kardashians lived. But… But I hate it. I hated every second I was away from you.” I let out a weak laugh, unable to stop the tears. “I wanted to turn around the second I got on the bus in New Orleans, but my stupid stubborn ass didn’t. I should have. I should’ve gotten off and just run right back to you because I… I love you, James. I always have.”

The garage had gone almost deadly quiet, and my heart sank when I realized Bucky looked almost frozen in shock.

“I know that I shouldn’t have showed up like this,” I scrambled to say. “But I… I’ve been trying to get my divorce finalized for two years and I finally did, and I kept telling myself that once it was done, I’d never hold myself back from what I really want ever again. From who I want. If… If you want me.” My face felt like it was on fire, my hands shaking. I shook my head as I took a step backwards. “What am I thinking? There’s no way you’re not married. I… I’m so so—”

Before I could finish the word ‘sorry,’ Bucky had closed the distance between us, his hands cradling my face so gently. He held me like I was made of fine crystal as he kissed me. He kissed me like his life depended on it, like I was the one source of oxygen.

And I kissed him back just as fiercely. “I love you. I love you so much,” I breathed out in between kisses, unwilling to let him go as my Hermés bag fell into the dust and oil on the concrete below.

Bucky smiled into the kiss, his arm wrapping around my waist to keep me pressed to his chest. “I love you so much, darlin.’ God, I’ve missed you…” His nose nudged against mine as we finally broke for air, both of us breathing heavily.

My knees felt like Jell-O as I held onto him. His grip was the only reason I hadn’t fallen to the ground already.

“I’m sorry I was a dumb twenty-two year old,” I said, snorting as he stole another kiss.

“No… Don’t be sorry,” he insisted, his fingers massaging my scalp as our foreheads pressed together. It was like he was scared to stop touching me, like I would disappear at any second. “You were young… You had to go out and make your own mistakes… I’ve just been waiting for the day you were ready.”

All the years apart melted away and all that remained was the two of us, two souls so intertwined that there was no way to truly separate us.

Our lips were half molded together as I said, “I’m never leaving you again. I promise I swear on everything…”

My heart almost stopped inside my chest as I heard someone clearing their throat, looking to see Bucky’s father staring at us with his arms crossed over his chest. “M-Mr. Barnes, sir…”

He gave a crooked smile that was so reminiscent of Bucky that I couldn’t help but grin back. “The Mrs. will wanna know if you’re staying for dinner.”

“Yeah,” I said as I looked up at Bucky, toying with a strand of his hair. “That sounds perfect.”

Later that night, Bucky and I laid in his bed, a mess of bare limbs as his fingers ran up and down my back soothingly. “What do you want from this life, baby girl?” He asked absentmindedly.

Humming, I traced shapes on his bare chest, sometimes pressing a kiss to where his prosthetic met his shoulder, on the tender scar tissue. “You.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, despite the already mischievous look on his face. “Really? Not even the stars and the moon?” He asked teasingly.

I knew he’d give it to me anyway, give me all that he could. But I was sure now that the only thing I wanted from this life was his love. “Not even the stars and the moon.”

[libraryofloveletters]

Just A Phase

Evan Buckley x Reader 

Warnings: fem!reader, typical high school nonsense, kinda rude behaviour at first meet, mentions of weed/alcohol and the consumption of, typical cocky jock behaviour, few swear words, being tipsy/drunk

Category: fluff and a little angst 

Word Count: 5.4k

Author’s Note: I just started writing and this is where I ended up so yeah also I feel like I haven’t written in a million years, forgive me if this is shitty // I referred to Buck as Evan for the first little bit because he and the reader had been introduced yet. // thank you to my darling @floralbuckleys for their help!

----

Senior Year Of High School. 

 Evan Buckley, certified jock and bad boy. 

He was the type of guy that only had a soft spot for you, but you didn’t know that yet. Truthfully he wasn’t a mean guy - people just perceived him that way because he was on the football team and popular. He had somewhat of a troublesome reputation.

People knew where he went, trouble followed. 

You, on the other hand, came from a somewhat above average family. Your mom’s a nurse and dad’s a lawyer. They always had big hopes and dreams for you, for you to go off to Harvard in the fall and follow in your father’s footsteps but you didn’t want that. 

You dreamt of being a writer - you couldn't bring yourself to tell your parents that. Since you were young, they had instilled “you’re going to go to Harvard” in you. 

You couldn’t back out now. 

See, high school worked a certain way. You kept to your circles and didn’t mingle with those that didn’t fit into your circle. You and Evan didn’t run in the same circle - he was a troublesome jock and you were a smart preppy girl. 

Being the preppy kid meant volunteering where you could to bulk up your college application hence why you were at school on a Friday afternoon, waiting for the kids to show up. You were part of some tutor program that your chemistry teacher put you into. 

It was mostly just kids that needed some clarification on their work and the occasional jock that needed to pass a course to stay on the team.

You weren't surprised when a group of noisy jocks stumbled in the study hall, reeking of sweat from practice.  

You were surprised to see Evan, he hadn't been in there before. 

“Settle down boys” Mrs. Jacobs told them before sending each guy off to a tutor, leaving Evan standing beside her. “You can head over to y/n” she pointed at you, you gave him a small smile when you glanced up. He looked unpleasant, like he didn’t want to be there. 

He made his way over nonetheless. “Good afternoon” you say quietly, unsure if he heard you. He grumbles a hello as he sits down. 

The first few minutes, it was quiet. He sat there flipping through his textbook and scribbling down answers into the notebook in front of him. 

“Is there anything I can help you-” “I'm not stupid.” 

You glance at him, eyes catching his blue ones looking back at you. “I never said you were.” 

“I'm only here because I didn’t turn in my mid term project and now stupid Mr. Jefferson thinks I don't understand this shit” he explains himself. 

You hum, glancing down at the notebook in front of him, pulling it towards you. Reading over the sheet, all the answers were right. A hum of satisfaction slips pass your lips as you slide the notebook back over to him. 

“Not just another dumb jock then.” your eyes study his face after the statement. His lips curl into a small smile, a hum as he turns his attention back to his paper. 

“So prep life must be dull - no parties, all study.” 

“Who says prep kids don't party ?” 

He chuckles, “maybe the lack of prep kids at the parties.” “I’ll have you know, I party plenty, Evan.” 

Once again, he chuckles. “The phrasing of that statement shows that you clearly don’t- but call me Buck, all the guys do.” he slides the notebook over to you. 

“Check this over, I'll be back” you watched as he stepped out of the study hall and disappeared into the hallway. 

A few minutes pass by, you’re tired and in need of a nap but you blink away the tiredness to read his work. There’s a voice behind you and then you feel something heavy on your chair. Leaning back to figure out what it was, the back of your head hit something hard. You shift in your seat and look up to see your head has hit Buck’s torso. 

“How's the work, peach ?” his voice is low, the drop in octave from before causes butterflies in your stomach. 

Your brows furrow at the nickname, he noticed your confusion and glances down at your top and your eyes follow his only to see that your peach colour bra was sticking out from the top of your shirt. 

You had stretched back into your seat when he stepped out and you hadn't noticed the shift in your clothing.

Pulling the top of your shirt back up, he smiles and returns to his seat. You clear your throat, head down and eyes on the work in front of you as you could feel the blush on your face. 

“Um, the work is fine.” 

“Do you have plans tonight ?” 

“No, why?” 

“Come with me to Johnson’s party, you can show me how prep kids party” he smiles, his words are teasing you- taunting you even. “I would, but my parents are out of town so I don’t have the car and I have to watch the house.” 

“The house won’t disappear if you’re gone for a few hours and I'll pick you up then. What’s your address ?” 

“Buck, I really shouldn't” 

“Y/n, come on. Pull the stick out your ass for one night and enjoy senior year. You can go back to Harvard prep tomorrow.” 

His word choice doesn't shock you, it’s quite on brand for him. He’s looking at you, waiting for your answer and you can't help but give in.

Taking the pen from him, you scribble your address and number on his notebook. “See you at 7?” picking your bag up before slinging it over your shoulder. 

“7? Peach, the party doesn’t start ‘till 9. I’ll pick you up at 10:30.” 

“Oh um- okay.” you hum, confused but you agree anyways. 

--- 

10:45 and you were sitting on your couch, glancing at your phone and back to the window. 

You had been stood up once before but to be stood up by a jock, and a popular one ? Will be the death of any social life you had. 

Finally there’s a knock on your door and you get up a little faster than you would have liked but you make your way over. Pulling it open, you met with Buck. 

“Ready ?” 

“Sure, let me grab my phone” you leave the door open, stepping back to the couch. Buck had disappeared from the doorway when you returned, you locked up and followed what looked like headlights to the driveway. 

Buck sat on his bike, he scoots forwards a bit before patting the space behind him. 

“No.” you mumble. 

“What ?” 

“I’m not getting on that thing.” 

“That thing ? I'm offended. Come on, you’ll be fine.” 

“Evan, no.” 

Buck gets up, making his way over to you. His hands grab yours, looking at you now. “Y/n, I promise you that you’ll be fine. Can we go now ?” 

“I’ll kill you if something happens to you” you grumbled as you reluctantly made your way over to the bike. Buck gets on first, you mirror his actions. Your hands were to your side, Buck reached back and wrapped them around his waist. 

“You good back there ?” 

“As good as I could be.”

-- 

The house, who you assumed belonged to Johnson’s parents, (you had no idea who Johnson was because you barely ever went to the football games) reeked of alcohol and weed. 

Your face didn’t hide your displeasure as well as you thought it had. Buck chuckled as he slung his arm over your shoulder. 

“So is this what you do ?” you shout over the loud music, Buck was saying hello to someone he knew and wasn't paying attention to what you had asked him. 

You manage to wiggle your way out of his grip and find your way to the kitchen. It’s a few minutes later that Buck finds you sipping on a beer. 

“You drink ?” he gives you a questionable look with a smile on his face. 

“You brought me to a party so I'll do what people do at a party” you hum, leaning back against the counter. He finds his way to you, leaning back against the counter too. 

“Enjoying the party ?” 

“Not really, you kinda left me to talk to some guy for twenty minutes” 

“That guy happens to be our star quarterback.” 

“I care why?” you glance up at him. Buck’s face is pure amusement, you aren't sure if you’re the cause of that or something else but the way he's looking at you- you can feel the butterflies again. 

“Buck!” a group of guys shout as they make their way into the kitchen. They all say hello to him, some are drinking, some are shoving chips into their mouths. 

You stay quiet while Buck talks to them and judging by their varsity jackets, it was safe to assume that they were on the team with Buck. 

“Who’s your friend ?” a brunette guy asks him, stepping towards you. 

“I’m y/n, you are?” you ask before Buck could. 

“Mike, call me Johnson.” 

“Oh, so this is your place ? Cute house” you give him a smile, he laughs. 

“How do you know Buck?” Johnson asks, he was nosy for a drunk guy. 

“Just bumped into each other, we have class together” you lie, not sure if Buck wanted them to know how you really met, Buck gives you a small smile. 

“You’re pretty, how about a dance ?” his hand grabs yours. 

“Thanks but no thanks” you give a polite smile before pulling your hand away. 

Johnson takes a step forward, his hand reaching out and grabbing your hip. “C’mon, dance with me” you could smell the alcohol on him- he reeked. You push his hand off, “I said no thank you” you tell him once more, being ever so polite. 

“Y/n, c’mon, one dance baby” he takes another step, he’s now face to face with you. Before you could say anything, Buck is in front of you, between you and Johnson. 

“Dude, she said no. Leave her alone.” 

Buck’s sudden need to protect you was much appreciated. Usually if a guy did that, especially a jock, you’d be weird out because they never pay attention to you- but Buck, you had this indescribable feeling, pride, satisfaction, maybe even relief ? 

“She’s not even your girl, why are you protecting her?” 

“Doesn’t matter, she said no so get out of her fucking face.” Buck’s hand was against his chest, pushing him away as his other hand reached back for yours. It would be cheesy to say that your hand fit in his like it was made to be there but it was true. 

Buck’s hand was still in yours as he pulled you out the back door. Your back was up against the wall as he stood in front of you. 

“Are you okay ?” you could hear the concern in his voice - different from his usual tone. 

At a loss for words, his eyes study your face. Johnson was a douche and he knew that, he mentally cursed himself for even bringing you here. 

“Y/n.. talk to me” he takes a step towards you. 

“Buck,” your hand presses against his chest, “I'm fine. It’s not the first time a drunk guy has hit on me” 

A breath of relief slipped past his lips, “do you want to leave?” his face softens when he asks. “No, I'm alright.” 

“Stay here, I'll be back” his hand comes down and squeezes your waist gently before he steps back into the house. 

--

It was a while before Buck returned. He had disappeared into the house for half an hour and when he returned, you were by the pool with a pingpong ball in hand. 

“Suck it!” your loud laugh filled his ears, you took a sip from the red cup in your hand and you watched as the guy across from you drank the beer in the cup that the ball landed in. 

“Looks like you’re having fun” Buck smiles, now beside you. 

“Hey!” you reeked of beer at this point. “I’m having fun” your words come out in a slurred mumble. 

“Mhm okay, I think it’s time to head home” Buck takes the cup from you and sets it down. 

“What ?” Your hand reaches for the cup again, a pout evident on your face.

Buck’s hands finds your waist, hoisting you up and over his shoulder. A louder than expected gasp left your mouth, you felt the cold breeze against your legs as he walked towards the front of the yard. 

He put you down in the backseat of a car but you knew you came with his bike so you were confused, just as you go to ask, he scoots you over and gets in the back with you. Buck’s arm is over your shoulder, you’re so tired that you just lean into him. 

-- 

You had noticed you fell asleep and when you woke, you were on the porch swing at your house with Buck’s hand in your pocket. 

“Whatcha looking for?” he glances up at you when he hears your voice. 

“Keys.” 

“Other pocket” 

He manages to find the keys and get the door open. Getting you in the house was another story. “Y/n, come on” he pulls your hands in an attempt to get you up but you weren’t budging. 

What happened to you being a prep kid and not drinking ? He didn’t even think it was possible to get drunk that fast. 

“No, tired” you mumbles, making yourself comfortable on the porch swing. “Do you want your parents to come home and find you here? I’m cool with leaving you here if that’s the case” Buck teased, he had no idea when your parents were coming home. 

The mention of your parents finding you outside, drunk, horrified you. You got up so quick, you nearly toppled over. Buck helped you inside and onto the couch. He disappeared for a moment and then returned with a glass of water. 

“Small sips” he settles beside you, watching as you take a sip. You hum, resting your head on his shoulder as his arm comes over your shoulder. 

“Buck?” 

“Yeah?” 

He felt your head shift, now looking up at him, eyes full of sleep. You were studying his face, from the birthmark above his eye to his pink lips.

“I really like you, you know” your words filled with sleep as your eyes drooped, you blinked a few times, forcing yourself to stay awake.

Buck chuckles, “that’ll pass peach, I’m just a phase.” He hummed quietly, fingers running through your hair as you drift to sleep. 

--

The Monday after the party, you saw Buck in the hallway after waking up to an empty house on the couch, head pounding even in the deafening silence and and you can’t quite remember how you got home. 

Buck had been radio silence since then but you weren't sure why. He was walking in from the front doors and you were by your locker. You turn to speak to him but he barely glances at you before continuing his conversation with Johnson. 

From that day, you never spoke to Buck again. Last you saw him was graduation day and last you had heard was that he was in college and you were headed off to Harvard. 

----

Present.

You had become a big shot lawyer, everything your parents wanted. Moved out to LA to start your own firm and everything was going well until this morning. 

You had barely walked into the office when the fire alarm went off. The sudden alarm caused an onset of commotion in the office, the woman next to you bumped into you, spilling your hot cup of coffee onto you. 

She mumbled a sorry as she passed but you could feel the heat coming from where the liquid had spilt. Nonetheless, you made your way out, the sound of the sirens from fire trucks blaring. 

Not that you didn’t enjoy seeing the handsome firefighters (or so your co-workers seem to say) but you had a ton of paperwork to do for an upcoming case you had and you barely started. 

You stood by the curb, watching as the firefighters made their way over to the crowd and into the building to clear it. 

“Ma'am ?” A firefighter made his way over to you, there was a helmet in his hand as he passed a hand through his hair. You glance up from your phone, to see what he wanted. 

“May I take a look?” his eyes shifted to your chest where there is currently a coffee stain on your white shirt. “Oh, thank you but no. I’m fine” 

“Are you sure? Because that’ll leave a pretty nasty mark if you don't get it cleaned. If you aren’t comfortable, we have a female medic” he offered, hoping you’d consider. 

“You’re a medic ?” you asked, looking him up and down. He nods, taking a step back. He begins walking back to the ambulance and you follow him. “Do you want me to get her?” 

“No, you’re a professional, it’s cool” you give him a small smile before moving your shirt so he could check. 

The firefighter’s hand was now right under your collarbone, dabbing at your skin with some gauze. His fingers were cold, you weren’t sure if it was actually his fingers or the gloves that were cold but either way you looked at him. 

“What’s your name ?” 

“Diaz, Eddie Diaz” he tells you, flashing you a smile before going back to his job. 

You hum, staying still as Eddie rubs something on your skin. 

That’s when you saw him. 

The same blue eyes, the same blonde hair, the same gorgeous smile that always played in your mind. Not a day went by that you didn’t think of him. You had always wondered what he ended up doing, he was smart and destined for great things, there was more for him than a small life in a place where no one ever really did anything. 

Every guy you had dated, you compared to him. It was always something- they didn’t look like him, they didn’t act like him, they didn’t treat you the way he did, they wouldn't stand up for you like he did. 

He lived rent free in your mind. 

“Ma'am?” Eddie’s voice broke your gaze. “Y/n,” you corrected him, “ma’am is for old women” your eyes going back to Buck. Eddie noticed your lack of attention and followed your gaze. 

“Do you know Buck?” 

“He still lets people call him that ?” you chuckle to yourself, feeling Eddie’s eyes burning a hole into you. 

Before you could answer, his radio buzzed before a voice came through, “building’s clear. Start directing people back in.” Eddie looks over at you, you’re already getting out of the ambulance. 

“Keep that clean and dry” were his last words to you after you left. 

--- 

It wasn’t until you were back in the building that you realized your phone was in the ambulance. 

You were majorly screwed. 

Remembering the medic’s name which was the only thing you remember mids the confusion and seeing Buck after 10+ years. You asked around the office if anyone knew what station responded to the call. You had contacts that worked for the city but the lack of phone made it hard for you to call and find out. 

Finally giving in, you google the medic’s name. There were a few articles that had photos but none of them said anything that helped. There was a video from Taylor Kelly at channel 8 news, some sort of video about the fire station. 

Station 118- that was 10 minutes down the road and you pass it everyday on the way to work. The thoughts began filling your head, had Buck been there all along? 

12 years- 12 long, empty years that you acted like he didn’t exist and that you didn’t want to know what happened between you two but he was right down the road. 

You didn’t even know if you wanted to talk to him. You had finally come to peace with it even though a part of you will always long for what could have been. Feelings aside, you set out to the station to get your phone. 

Upon arriving, there were a few guys by the trucks. You asked for Eddie, assuming that he might have an idea of where your phone ended up or if they even found it. 

“Up the stairs and he should be somewhere up there” the guy pointed, you thanked him before heading towards the stairs. When you got upstairs, it was empty. 

You weren't sure if you should go back down or wait so you sort of awkwardly stood there, glancing around the room. The station was nicer than you had imagined it to be, not that you really had an idea of what to expect. 

Your back was to the kitchen when someone tapped your shoulder. “Can I help you?” his voice called out as you turned. 

Buck. 

You let out a breath, your eyes studying his perfect face for a moment. Do you say something or just pretend like you didn’t know him?

“Yeah, I'm uh- I'm looking for Eddie. I think I left my phone in the ambulance.” 

“Do I know you from somewhere ?” 

“I work at the building down the road, 14th street. You guys were there earlier, hence the phone in the ambulance” you tell him, hoping he drops the topic. 

“Y/n! Hey! What are you doing here?” You see Eddie call from behind Buck. 

Thank god. 

“I left my phone in the ambulance. I figured you’d know what happened to it” you’ve stepped past Buck and towards Eddie now. “I haven’t seen it, but maybe it’s still in there. Come with me, we can check for it” 

Eddie was making his way down the stairs and you were behind him when Buck called your name. 

Not y/n. 

Peach. 

You paused, taking a deep breath in before turning to face him. “I thought I remembered you from somewhere” he smiled, him and his stupid smile. 

“I’m in a rush, Evan. Plus, I'm not in the mood to reminisce.” 

The smile dropped from his face, the guilt crept up on you. The feeling of your stomach twisting, sighing before making your way down to Eddie who was by the ambulance, your phone in hand. 

“There’s more to the story than I thought,” Eddie hands the phone over, you give him a hum and thank him. “Let me walk you out.” he follows you out to your car. 

“You know, whatever he did- he’s changed. He’s a good guy.” Eddie says, his voice sincere. 

“I know, I just- I don't know” 

“What did he do? If I can ask” 

“We were- I don't know what we were. We hung out in high school, just once but he was different from the other guys. He genuinely cared. We went to a party together and he brought me home after. I remember falling asleep with him in the house and the next morning he was gone. Total radio silence that whole weekend and when I saw him at school the following week, he acted like he didn’t know me - it was like that for the rest of senior year. We never spoke after that.” 

Here you were pouring your heart out to a firefighter who you had only met an hour ago who also had seen your bare chest (in a professional way, of course)  on a Tuesday morning in the parking lot. 

“Wow- I can see why you wouldn’t want to talk to him.”

“Yeah, thank you for the phone though. I gotta get back to work” 

“Wait, let me get your number” 

You pause, looking at him with furrowed brows. He seemed confused then he realized how that sounded. “Oh god- no not like that, sorry. I meant maybe we could grab a drink sometimes, as friends and maybe you could tell me more about high school Buck ?” 

“Um- yes to the number and drinks but I don’t know about Buck” you hand the phone back over to him, telling him that you’d text him. 

--- 

It was a while before you heard from Eddie, he said he was off on Saturday if you were up for drinks and weren't busy. The whole team was going out but he invited you along to join them. 

After some back and forth “I couldn't intrude” and “you won’t be, come join us” you finally gave in. 

Now it’s 9pm and you, Eddie and Buck are sitting at a booth. Coincidentally, everyone else was busy. Chimney and Hen who you hadn’t met yet, were with their significant others and kids. So that left the 3 of you together. 

You wanted to walk back out when you saw it was only the two of them but Eddie had seen you and called you over. His phone buzzed just as Buck came back with drinks. 

“Everything okay?” Buck asked his friend, Eddie, still typing away on his phone. “Huh? Yeah, it’s Carla. Chris is running a fever” you could hear the concern in his voice. 

“Chris is your son?” 

“Yeah- I'm sorry I got to go. I’ll make it up to you. Drinks on me another night” Eddie gave your shoulder a squeeze as he stood. 

“No yeah, of course. Go, it’s fine” you smiled. 

“Let me know if you need anything” Buck shifts towards Eddie, the two of them seem to have some sort of routine or way of how things work between them.  

And now there were two. 

Buck sipped on his beer, you sat across from him, your nails tapping against the bottle in front of you. He was the first one to speak.

“So, how have you been?”

“Good. You?”

“Good too. I don’t know if you remember my sister but she had a baby recently so I've been hanging out with her after work”

“Oh, that’s nice. Maddie right?”

“Yeah, she had a little girl. She’s the cutest little girl ever.” Buck pulls his phone out, showing you a photo of him holding a baby in a blanket with a brunette beside him. The woman beside him, Maddie you assumed, was smiling at Buck, fixing the blanket while he looked at the camera, the joy evident on his face.

“She’s adorable and your sister looks the same, she hasn’t aged a day” you hum, passing the phone over to him.

Back to awkward silence.

“What happened to us?” Buck’s question catches you off guard.

“What happened to us? You happened.”

“What? I thought we were friends.” Your eyes met, his full of confusion and yours with displeasure.

“Friends don’t disappear in the middle of the night with no explanation and ignore them for the rest of senior year.” You get up, grab your phone and make your way to the door. Buck’s calling out to you but you don’t want to stop and talk to him.

The night was cold, the wind hit your bare shoulders and you shivered for a moment before walking. Buck was still calling out your name, he had followed you out the bar.

“Y/n! Stop! Y/n, c’mon. Please!” His hand wrapped around your wrist, holding you in place. You pull your hand back.

“No! You don’t get to do that. Act like everything is fine when you disappeared with no explanation. I know we weren’t best friends but I thought we were at least friends. That fucking hurt, Evan.”

“Fine,” he sighs, looking at you. “You want the truth ?” Your brows raised, waiting for him to continue.

“You told me you liked me. You were a good kid, going to Harvard, which you obviously did” gesturing at you, he continued. “I didn’t know what I wanted and I didn’t want you to feel like you needed to be by my side until I figured it out. I knew you would resent me for that and I couldn’t do that to you, I couldn’t do it to myself.”

“That’s selfish. It’s about you ? That’s why you left with no explanation ? You couldn’t do it to yourself ? Man the fuck up Buck, life isn’t about you.” 

“You think I don’t know that ?! You think I didn’t think about you all the time? That I didn’t miss you?” 

“Don’t start with that shit. You knew where I would be. You said it yourself, I was “a good kid, going to Harvard” so if you really missed me, you could have found me.” 

“Y/n, be real. We were just out of high school, what means did I have to go searching for you? I had my own shit to deal with.” 

“Just stop, I don’t even want to know.” 

“No, you stop” 

“No you.” 

“Y/n” his voice was stern, the annoyance clearly there. 

“Evan.” your tone matched his.

That stupid smug smile of his was on his face, that was enough to make you roll your eyes. “’Kay, I'm over your shit.” turning away from him, you go to walk away but his hand grabs yours. 

Still fit like it was made to be there. 

Before you could register what was happening, Buck’s lips were on yours. Maybe time stopped when Buck’s lips met yours but your heart didn’t- it felt like it was beating a million times seconds and the butterflies in your stomach were restless. 

It wasn't clear to either of you at the moment that it had started pouring rain but it didn’t matter. There was this raw emotion in the way his hands felt on your waist or how his chest was pressed to yours. 

Buck would be lying if he said he didn’t open his eyes slightly, sneaking a guilty peek at you just to make sure you weren’t a fiction of his imagination. Every breath he took smelt of lavender and honey, the same scent that had lingered on his mind since the day he met you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him, if that was even possible. 

Maybe this was meant to be, fate bringing back what was meant for him to him or maybe this really was all a fabrication of his imagination but he wanted to live in his moment forever. 

It wasn't until thunder rumbled that he pulled away. The rain had soaked your clothes and hair, your makeup had smudged and half of your lipstick was on Buck. 

The same stupid smug smile on his face.

“God,” rolling your eyes at him. “You’re so annoying.” wiping your lips with the back on your hand, hoping that you got all the lipstick off. 

“Yeah, I'm the annoying one” Buck’s face twisted, giving you a playful shove as you stepped towards him. Your thumb comes up to wipe the lipstick off him. Buck’s arm lifts, now over your shoulder. 

The two of you looked at each other as you made your way down the street. 

“Just a phase huh ?” you hum, glancing at Buck. 

The blonde let out a chuckle, “maybe not.” 

--- 

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[incorrectsnkships]

The mental image of Levi with a baby strapped to his back while he's doing chores is 🥵 Maybe more than one baby so he looks like a grumpy mama possum.

i am very tired rn and running on one (1) bowl of cereal but god damn is dad levi one of the hottest things in the world (forgive any typos i am in so much pain)

young, single dad levi + me = incoherent screams

i am an absolute fucking sucker for single parent levi, bonus points if he had the kid at a young age, too.

just. him. holding his newborn and bouncing her (levi is a girl dad fucking fight me) up and down when she starts to grizzle is so cute. he’s so scared because what if he isn’t good enough and what if she’ll be better off with someone else? but no, he couldn’t do that. she didn’t ask to be born, so it’s his responsibility to make her life as happy as possible.

and he takes her to nursery and all of the other parents just silently judging him at drop off and pick up time because he must be the youngest one there judging by his face and his attitude nd his clothing and his style. they think he’s probably still a child himself, mentally, but when i tell you that he is a good dad anon, you best fucking believe it.

the shit he does for his kid. he’d go to the edge of the planet just for her. if nobody at school was taking her seriously or if she ever got bullied but nobody tried to stop it, i know for a fact that he’d be at his kid’s school in a heartbeat trying to sort things out.

they didn’t take him seriously at first, either, because, “mr ackerman, you’re barely twenty one yourself, i’m sure our grown, mature teachers know what they’re doing,” and that makes his blood absolutely boil. sure, he may be a kid with a kid, but that doesn’t mean that he isn’t a parent, and being a parent means looking out for your child, putting them first, and doing things in their best interest.

the bullying doesn’t stop. levi’s had countless meetings at the school, so many that if he were to tally them all up, he’d be counting on both hands more than once. levi tends to lose his cool in said meetings, which has, unfortunately, meant that rumours have spread of levi being the “irresponsible, neglectful and careless dad,” which his kid has suffered as a result of. not in any legal consequences, more like teasing from other children. nasty stuff, kids can be cruel.

it gets too much. levi switches his kid’s school, and also puts in a complaint about her previous school, too. she’s five, school is meant to be fun, not hell. the realisation hit when he went over all the times when he’d try and dress his kid for school, try and get her to go but she just wouldn’t because she’d come home crying anyway, so what’s the point, right? the trouble is, levi has a hard time saying no, so this meant a lot of phone calls to school saying “oh, she has a fever,” “she has a stomach bug and won’t be in,” “she was up all night and now she’s paying for it, poor thing.”

obviously, levi had to be careful, otherwise it would turn legal.

l: baby come on. please, you have to

k: lol no

l: i’ll actually get in trouble pls go

k: bitch come at me

l: fine fuck u i’ll call the school and let them know you won’t be there ur going tomorrow tho

but the new school, oh, the new school. it was wonderful. the staff were so considerate, so kind and gentle with the children. they didn’t judge levi, but respected him very highly, and took their hat off to him for being able to raise a child whilst raising himself.

levi came across the term “gentle parenting” whilst aimlessly scrolling one day, seeing the posts that old friends from high school made - out having fun, clubbing, graduating, while he’s renting out a shitty two bedroom apartment with, practically, a toddler. but he wouldn’t have it any other way. anyway, he came across this title/style thing, and figured “huh, this must be me,” but gagged at some of the posts under the tag.

all millennial couples in their late thirties posting their yucky gender reveals and yucky baby showers and yucky kids with yucky names, commenting yucky things like, “my little bravey baby boy had an ouchy, broke my heart to see him in such a state! he’s so strong!” and realised that, okay, maybe this wasn’t him after all. not that type of gentle parenting, anyway.

levi liked to swear. a lot. but never in front of his kid. well, sometimes. he would curse when some fucker blocked off his right of way whilst driving, and would mutter “shitshitshit fuckfuckfuckfuck” under his breath whenever he’d hurt himself. sometimes, if he thought it wouldn’t do any harm, he’d swear to his kid. things like, “you’re a little shit, huh?” after his kid came up to him and blew a raspberry right in his face, but always followed it up with, “don’t say what i just did. it’s bad. don’t be like your dad, okay?” just to ensure that his bad habits aren’t rubbing off on her. and to cover his own tracks. technically it’s not his fault if she swears at school if he told her not to do it.

except one time when she did swear at school, and the teacher called home to inform levi. this school, the new school, was much more supportive. didn’t punish their younger years for cursing.

t: mr ackerman?

l: what’s wrong? is my kid alright?

t: yes, yes! she’s perfectly fine. however, i’m just calling to let you know that she did swear at another child earlier

l: oh really

t: yes, she did say the f and the s word, so i was just wondering if she might’ve picked it up from anywhere?

l, exaggerating: wha- well, i can assure you mrs roberts, she definitely has not got that from me, i am definitely going to be having a strong word with her when i pick her up!

the said word: “don’t cuss at school, ‘kay? i know dad does but maybe when you’re older.”

one night, levi tosses and turns in bed, can’t sleep. remembers when his baby became his. how little her hands and feet were, ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes which were his to look after. the blanket, which he kept, smelt like her, and the matching crocheted boots laid in his dresser drawer. he missed it. it made him think, it made him realise - he wants another baby. it couldn’t hurt, could it? to have another lil one.

but he couldn’t, really, could he. no partner. he’d be denied for adoption straight away, wouldn’t even get remotely considered. he’d just have to wait a little longer, ‘is all.

when levi turns twenty five and his kid is eight, they move out and stop renting the “apartment.” levi had worked many jobs over the years, multiple at once, even took his kid to work with him the majority of the time, just to be able to put money away for new opportunities like these, if his kid ever wanted to go to university and further her education. they buy a real house this time, a proper one, with more than three rooms.

when she grows up a little bit and gets older and starts to develop her own mind, thoughts, and opinions, levi gets a little sad. the day she turned 11 he swore it only felt like yesterday that he was bringing her home from the hospital, to their home and to her crib.

the day she goes to big school, levi cried after seeing her off. it wasn’t fair. when did she get so big again? was he watching?

the time flies like there’s no tomorrow. before he, and his kid, knew it, it was finals week. then, college, then, the decision of what she should study in university. levi wants whatever she wants. their bond only becomes closer, they act like friends rather than a parent and a child.

k: what would you do if i came home pregnant one day

l: kick you out

k: you’re one to talk

l: don’t talk to your father that way

k: hange says you were quite the man hoe back in the day

l: okay, “the day,” that you’re on about, was sixteen years ago, alright, and never listen to hange, just don’t

k: sixteen or sixty?

l: you are an asshole

his child grew up so quick. and if he had the chance to redo it all, he would, just so he could relive it again. he says he hates children, but no, he couldn’t really, and he doesn’t, he thinks about having more every day. dad levi = panty dropper. there, i said it.

i love dad levi so much i’m contemplating rn if i should write a fic about this (after the jearmin exchange ofc) because i just cant get enough of this material. if you have any dad levi fics, please share them!

[celestialrry]

I wish you would write a fic where...

the main character is the daughter of a really important producer harry is working with and he has a major crush on her but 1) he doesn’t want her dad to feel like he’s taking advantage of her 2) she has a rule of not dating musicians

too young

OOOOOOHHHHHH

HIIII GUYS..... i started school again and honestly for the longest time i've had no inspiration to write but then i got this ask!!! (thank you for your patience anon ily) and was like i love this prompt but then i wrote the first part and had no idea how to continue it,,, but I finally finished it!! ε(♡'-')з (this is me giving you all my love and affection for sticking with me) 

(NOT EDITED)

2k

warnings: alcohol consumption

Harry was in a dilemma.

Usually, he could sweep all his issues under the rug, save them for another day, but this one... he couldn't do that. Not because he didn't want to, but because this problem was more than just a dust bunny on his hardwood floor.

Y/N was the problem.

Or to be more precise, his feelings for Y/N were the problem.

Harry had confidence when it came to his crushes. He was smooth, flirty, and snagged almost every single person he's caught feelings for.

But not Y/N.

No, she was almost unreachable, for quite a few reasons.

One, the only reason he knew her, met her, was through a producer he had been working with the past few months. Arlo was massive in the industry and Harry was flattered when Arlo approached him with interest in collaborating. And only a month into working together, he met Y/N.

Harry's head snapped towards the door that had just burst open, a girl barging into the studio that he had never seen before. She was gorgeous, he had to admit, but he couldn't ignore her blatant disrespect for coming in and making a scene while he, Arlo, and a few of his bandmates were working annoyed him to no end.

"Dad! Oh my god, you will not believe what just happened, I was on my way over here and I fucking bumped into Zach," The girl began ranting, approaching Arlo and huffing as she stood next to Arlo's chair. "Of all fucking people I could see just walking down the street, it had to be him. The world is against me today I swear. Anyways, I brought that drum pad you wanted."

She dug into her big brown bag that was slung over her shoulder and pulled out the music board, placing it on the table in front of Arlo.

"Where'd you see him, Y/N? We're about to go on break and I can leave and go kick his ass in," Arlo checked his watch. "7 minutes."

Y/N, Harry now knew her as, sighed and crossed her arms. "He's long gone by now, think he shit his pants when he saw me walking near him."

"Atta girl, thanks for bringing my board too," Arlo smiled up at her from his chair. He then turned to see Harry, and Mitch staring at the two of them. "Oh sorry guys, this is my daughter, Y/N. Y/N, this is Harry and Mitch."

She turned to look at them and smiled wide. "Nice to meet you!"

"You too." They both said in unison, looking at each other with a smile, before focusing back on Y/N.

"We'll be done soon, if you wanna go out and get lunch." Arlo said, turning back to his daughter.

"Sounds good, just text me," Y/N replied, giving him a smile before turning back to the boys. "Nice meeting you guys, again."

And before they could even respond she was gone.

Two, Y/N was younger than him. 6 years younger to be exact. It didn't seem like much, but when put into perspective, she was 21, only just being legally allowed to drink in the States, and Harry was 27. Practically 30, if you ask him, and he was positive Arlo would have his head if he found out Harry liked his daughter. 

And three, she doesn't date the people her dad works with. 

He had found this out one night when he, Arlo, Y/N, Mitch, and a couple other writers were hanging out at the studio, drinking some wine (she had even exclaimed that this would be her first time drinking red, and Harry was yet again reminded of her age) and chatting after a long day of working. 

Harry and Mitch were laughing with Arlo about the first time they met Y/N, and her comments about this “Zach” guy. 

“He’s my ex, and had worked with my dad on one shitty song that never got far because he’s just so-- music is just not his thing, to put it nicely. But he was an absolute asshole and after him I made rule to never date anyone Dad works with. It would just go terribly.” She explained, letting Arlo take a few more jabs at the guy before stopping him.

So yeah, Harry was in a dilemma. 

In all the time he’d known Y/N, he just kept falling for her. She was kind, funny, beautiful, lit up any room she walked into, and treated Harry like fine porcelain. 

She was just fucking perfect. 

｡:°ஐ

Y/N had probably been in a lot of worse positions than the predicament she was in now.

For example, that time her dad walked in on her and her ex making out in the studio, or her 21st birthday when she got completely wasted and almost got into the wrong car instead of her uber, and the next day found out that the man driving that car was actually a convicted criminal.

So there’s worse things that could happen than her liking Harry.

But it doesn't mean it wasn’t bad.

The thing is, Y/N didn’t fall for anyone easily. Her one and only ex Zach treated her like a queen until he could officially claim her as his. The flowers he gave her before every date remained at the shop and the consistent compliments turned into insults and muttered claims of discontentment. 

Hence why he was her ex. It took Y/N quite a long time to work up the courage to end things with him. He was her first kiss, first time, and first boyfriend. She was yet to find her first love, she never really loved Zach. The way he used to treat her in the beginning, she thinks she loved, but him? No, she would never call him her first love. 

So when Y/N’s time crush on Harry began to develop into real feelings in such a short span of time, it terrified her. She had really never felt this way about someone before; butterflies would erupt in her stomach every time he shot her a smile and her mind would erupt into pure chaos when his body brushed up against her own. 

So yeah, it could be worse, but it certainly wasn't good.

｡:°ஐ

Y/N enjoyed spending time at the studio with her dad, and surprisingly, spending time with her dad’s “co-workers”. Even though she didn't usually hang out with the pop stars and spent time mostly with the backing band/producers (they were usually 50 year old men, but they were pretty nice) she enjoyed herself fully, having lunch breaks and talking about where their children when to school and whatnot. 

Sometimes though, every blue moon, Y/N would hang out with a super star her dad was working with. Usually when most stars are at the studio all they did was record, which was understandable, but she never had the chance to meet a lot of them.

With Harry though, everything was different. It wasn’t just lunches at the studio, or dinner at someone’s house, no, tonight they were going out to a bar. 

It was completely unexpected too, they had just wrapped up a song, and Harry, being in a particularly good mood had yelled out about going to a bar to celebrate. Of course, Y/N ignored his shout, knowing she wasn’t invited, and after Arlo had said something about “not being able to party as much as I used to”, she gave her dad a hug good night and waved a little goodbye to the band. 

“Wait!” Harry had exclaimed, chasing after her in the hallway. “Where are y’going?”

Y/N’s eyes widened and she looked behind her before looking back at Harry. “I was just gonna head back home.”

Harry’s head tilted, and looked at her questionably. “Y’not comin’ to the bar with us?” He practically pouted.

Her brows shot up in surprise. “Oh! I- yeah I’ll go out with you guys.”

Which lead her here, decently tipsy, and sitting in a booth between Harry and Sarah, laughing at a story Adam had been telling. Every now and then she would glance over to Harry just to find his gaze already on her.

Her heart fluttered every time, and if Harry’s cheeks weren’t already flushed from the alcohol, Y/N would have noticed him blush every time they locked eyes as well. 

“M’gonna get another drink, does anyone want anything?” Y/N piped up, a resounding chorus of “no, thank you’s” answering her question. Except for Harry who spoke softly, “A beer? Go ahead and put it on my tab.”

She shook her head at him as he stood up to let her out of the maroon leather booth. “Can’t make you pay for that, I offered.” She said, standing to lock eyes with him yet again. 

“Nope,” He grinned. “You can, and you will.”

“But-”

“No buts.” He chuckled, giving her a dimpled smile.

Accepting her defeat she nodded and squeezed his arm with a murmured “Thank you.” before making her way to the bar.

Harry sat back down again, eyes trailing her figure as she walked away before looking back at the table to be met with knowing eyes. 

“What is it?” He asked, glancing around at everyone.

“You’re whipped, mate.” Charlotte grinned, everyone else nodding in agreement.

“What?! I am not.” Harry pouted, eyes flicking over to Y/N, who was making her way to the table, one drink in each hand, before back to everyone else. 

“She’s really sweet H, you should go for it.” Mitch said.

Harry shook his head, eyes now on Mitch. “I’m not interested in her like that, she’s way too young for me, anyways.”

Just then did he hear the soft hit of his beer and her cosmo land on the table. His gaze trailed up her hands to see Y/N’s shattered face. “Here.” She practically whispered to him.

“I just remembered I have an early class tomorrow, so I should go, but thank you guys for inviting me out.” Y/N explained in lighting speed as she leaned over Harry to grab her purse and toss is over her shoulder. 

Words of confusion were tossed around the table but she was already booking it out of there, leaving Harry just as devastated as she was.

“I think she heard you, H.” Sarah said, frowning. 

Harry let out a muttered “Fuck!” before taking out large bills from his wallet and tossing it on the table. “For my tab, m’sorry, I gotta go.” And he left just as fast as Y/N did, weaving through the tables and people before bursting out the door to see her standing on the street, arm wrapped around her waist and another holding her phone.

“Y/N!”

Her head whipped around to see Harry bustling towards her and she quickly wiped her eye as he approached.

“Wait, don't go,” He said, struggling to find the words. “We all want you to stay, I want you to stay.”

“I have to get to class Harry, plus, I’m too young to be staying out this late anyways.” She grimaced at her own words. 

He sighed, eyes flickering from her own to her lips then back again. “I-fuck, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

This time, she fully turned to face him, brows knitted in distress. “Then how did you mean it? Because honestly I don’t think there is another way to mean it.”

This was his only chance, Harry knew it. 

“I just, I tried for so long to tell myself it was wrong to feel this way about you because you’re so much younger than me, and m’pretty sure your father would have my head if he knew but m’fucking infatuated with you, Y/N. M’so sorry I said that earlier, age is my only excuse for not asking you out and it’s not a good enough excuse anymore.”

With this her mouth was gaped like a fish, and her face was akin to a deer caught in headlights. In a flash her arms were wrapped around his neck and he was holding her waist, reveling in her touch. 

“Oh, Harry,” She pulled away. “I really like you too.” And with that she pressed a swift kiss to his cheek, leaving him a blushing mess. 

“Good, thats... thats good.” He stammered.

“So,” she nudged his arm. “Y’gonna ask me out now?”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Cultivated-to-Immortality post-canon where cultivation in modern day is mostly mysterious and many doubt it's real - and then WWX gets a cooking show...

“I’m going to murder him,” Jiang Cheng said blankly.

He wasn’t even angry or frustrated or any of the things he normally was when he said something like that. That would require actually reacting to -

What he just saw.

With his own eyes.

For real.

“You can’t do that,” Nie Huaisang said from where he was curled into a tiny little ball on their on-the-verge-of-breaking-down couch – modern things were really crap. The thing couldn’t be older than what, thirty or forty years, and it was already useless, and Nie Huaisang wasn’t helping matters by crying tears of laughter into the worn-out cushions like he was right now. “He’s immortal, remember? We’re all immortal.”

“Immortal in the sense that we won’t die of old age,” Jiang Cheng said. “I can still kill him.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t,” Jiang Cheng admitted. He was pretty sure they’d established that back in Wei Wuxian’s first life, forget his subsequent resurrection or when they all unexpectedly achieved immortality. “But I could definitely break his legs. He’d heal from that quick enough.”

“The day you break his legs will be the same day you do it to Jin Ling,” Nie Huaisang said wisely. “And I know you wouldn’t do that to our beloved junior squad.”

“You really need to stop calling them juniors, they’re all married with children and grandchildren a half-dozen times over already, and anyway stop getting away from the main point, which is this – this – this travesty.”

“It’s not a travesty,” Nie Huaisang said, pretending towards solemnity. Jiang Cheng didn’t know why he bothered, it wasn’t like they hadn’t spent centuries together by now on account of immortality being a little lonely and them not liking anyone else who’d reached immortality enough to want to spend that sort of time with them. “It’s a cooking show.”

“It can be a cooking show and a travesty! It’s a cooking show run by Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng growled. His stomach hurt just remembering the many times he’d been suckered into trying something because this time I’ve really got it down, I promise, you’ll like it! “Of course it’s a travesty. Did you see the set up he has going on? He has an entire wall of hot peppers!”

“Hmm, good point,” Nie Huaisang said. “You’re right. Something needs to be done about this.”

“I’m glad we agree.”

“I’ll send him some peppers from our garden,” Nie Huaisang decided. “I have that new varietal breed that we’ve been working on, extra hot; he’ll love it.”

“Don’t you dare send him the Zidian pepper without letting me try it first,” Jiang Cheng said pointedly. “It’s mine. He only gets leftovers once I’ve decided it’s complete. Anyway, are you telling me that you don’t think that this - this - this thing is a disgrace?”

They both looked at the screen, where the words ‘CHEF CULTIVATOR’ had appeared in large letters.

“I don’t know,” Nie Huaisang said thoughtfully. “I rather like the conceit of it – the mysterious food-obsessed Chairman kidnapping the heirs of the various cultivation clans...it’s all very historically accurate, at least?”

“One, Wen Ruohan wasn’t a Chairman, he was a tyrannical warlord who made all our lives absolutely miserable. Two, if that set is supposed to be the Nightless City, why is it so dark, and what’s with all the lava everywhere? I’m not even going to touch on the rock chair thing that no cultivator who values the state of their ass would ever sit on -”

“I don’t know about that,” Nie Huaisang said, looking down at their shitty couch with a exaggerated thoughtful look.

Jiang Cheng ignored him. He didn’t want to go couch-shopping again. It’d only been a few decades!

“And three,” he said, soldiering on, “I feel the need to point out that the cultivation clans were not named ‘Spicy’, ‘Barbecue’, ‘Vegetarian’, and ‘Expensive Fusion’.”

“But he’s got the coloring right and everything! And it’s really funny to see a chef outfit done up in that awful Jin gold color...”

Jiang Cheng put his head in his hands.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nie Huaisang said, completely unable to resist bursting out in occasional bouts of giggling. “This is exactly like the time the Wen sect forced all of us to attend their indoctrination camp. Exactly like! You’re just misremembering.”

“I’m pretty sure that I’d remember being forced to compete in some sort of absurd cooking competition with mystery ingredients.”

“Would’ve been nice if we had.” At Jiang Cheng’s incredulous expression, Nie Huaisang shrugged. “Better than listening to Wen Chao talk, no?”

“…well, yes,” Jiang Cheng admitted. “Still, the whole thing seems a bit much. Cultivation is now state-regulated - by which we mean mostly banned from public knowledge - and our sects are all shrouded in mystery...this does seem to lower the tone a bit.”

“Like you care about tone.”

Jiang Cheng, who’d declared that he’d stopped giving a fuck sometime around the eleventh century, had to concede that.

“How’d he get the whole thing approved by the government?” he asked instead. “I thought they censored anything to do with modern-day cultivation.”

“I don’t think they’re that concerned about him spilling actual cultivation secrets on his cooking show.”

Jiang Cheng huffed, not wanting to admit that Nie Huaisang had a point. At any rate, the commercials were over and the show was continuing; he had better things to do than listen to Nie Huaisang talk, like watch the television.

After a few moments, his face began to turn purple.

“Oh,” Nie Huaisang said, and buried his face back into the pillows. “Oh no. Oh no.”

“I cannot believe him,” Jiang Cheng said. “I can’t – he can’t –”

“Now, now,” Nie Huaisang said between laughter so hard that he was hiccupping. “Be nice. If Wei Wuxian is the despotic Chef Cultivator and - oh this is terrible - Grandmaster of Demonic Cooking, that is on the hunt for a chef worthy of being his successor by forcing teams to challenge his stable of in-house chefs, it only makes sense that the ‘challenger’ team would be protected by the – by the –”

Jiang Cheng closed his eyes. “Lightly-Braised Lord?”

“That!”

“I would say that I can’t believe Hanguang-jun agreed to this, except he hasn’t said ‘no’ to Wei Wuxian in centuries,” Jiang Cheng said bitterly. There was a reason he refused to live with them. “This is a disgrace.”

“Accurate, though!” Nie Huaisang said, grinning. “That’s a very mild flavor of cooking, very appropriate for Lan Wangji.”

“I think you mean tasteless.”

“I mean, Lan Wangji is that, too, at least when it comes to Wei-xiong”

Jiang Cheng couldn’t exactly say that that was wrong.

They continued watching.

“Oh no,” Nie Huaisang said a few moments later. “The Ghost Pepper General. Poor Wen Ning!”

“It doesn’t fit,” Jiang Cheng said with a sniff. “He has no flavor profile.”

Maybe he was getting more into this than he would be willing to admit.

...he wasn’t going to admit it out loud anyway.

Nie Huaisang sniggered. “I hope Wei-xiong isn’t the judge.”

Jiang Cheng stared at the screen. “I still can’t believe this is actually happening.”

“I love it,” Nie Huaisang said. He was now scrolling on his phone. “The internet agrees with me, apparently. It’s a hit!”

“It figures.”

Their phones gave a chime at the same time, indicating a message on their group chat.

“Huh,” Nie Huaisang said. “That was the notable Chef Cultivator himself.”

“Oh, I bet it was,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, making no move to reach for his own phone. “What does he want? To apologize?”

“No, to offer us walk-on roles in the event he gets renewed for a second season.”

“Absolutely not,” Jiang Cheng said at once. “I refuse to be known as the Sandwich Shengshou or whatever he comes up with.”

Nie Huaisang dissolved into giggles. “Oh no. He would, too!...I wonder what I’d be?”

Jiang Cheng huffed. “You’d be – the Saltshaker. Obviously.”

“Oh noooooooo…”

[bloody-bee-tea]

Worst

This fic was yet again inspired by another prompt on @mingcheng-prompts

When Jiang Cheng arrives at the Nie house, he’s no longer crying, but he still feels kinda raw. His eyes keep watering, every time he remembers the sight he came home to, and his throat still hurts from when he yelled at his shitty ex and his shitty hook-up, and all Jiang Cheng really wants to do now is curl up in a safe space and just be miserable for a while. This is the worst he felt in a while and he is in desperate need of some comfort.

He lets himself into the house when he realizes that it’s empty and he doesn’t waste a single second to toe off his shoes and slink into the living room. The couch is big and inviting and when he curls up in a corner of it, he lets out a soft sigh.

He doesn’t even want to remember how often he ends up here after one of his relationship ends but the thought is hard to shake.

Sometimes it feels like Jiang Cheng is spending more time on the couch, mourning another break-up than being in actual relationships and he can’t help but to wonder what the hell is wrong with him.

It always seems very, very easy for his boyfriends to cheat on him, or to break up with him.

Jiang Cheng presses his eyes closed, and turns further into the couch, trying to drown out the world and his own thoughts.

At least here nothing bad can happen to him. The Nie house has always been a safe space for him, least of all because Nie Huaisang and Nie Mingjue have somehow adopted him into their family, and they have given him every bit of security and stability Jiang Cheng had lacked in his own home.

At this point in time he felt more at home here than anywhere else. Which probably was a good thing, because his shitty, shitty ex had cheated on him in his own apartment and Jiang Cheng wouldn’t be ready to go back to that place for a while.

When his thoughts drift off into that direction again, he tries to think of something else, of anything else, and over that he must have fallen asleep.

He wakes up when a big, warm hand is being placed on the top of his head.

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue lowly greets him and it’s enough to bring fresh tears to Jiang Cheng’s eyes.

“Mingjue,” he gives back, his voice scratchy and Jiang Cheng hopes Nie Mingjue will think it’s because he has been asleep.

Going by the look on Nie Mingjue’s face though, Jiang Cheng doubts it.

“Wait here,” Nie Mingjue says and vanishes deeper into the house.

Jiang Cheng does as he’s told, staying curled up on the couch, but he keeps an ear out for Nie Mingjue, finding comfort in the fact that someone is home with him right now.

It takes Nie Mingjue a while to come back, but when he does, he changed into more comfortable clothes. He sits down on the couch, and even though it’s big enough that they could sit comfortably without touching he sits close enough that Jiang Cheng can tuck his feet under his thigh and still stay curled up as a miserable ball.

“Did you bring—” Jiang Cheng whispers, because there’s almost a ritual this by now and fresh tears spring to his eyes when Jiang Cheng realizes that he goes through enough relationships for there to be a comfort ritual afterwards.

“Course I did,” Nie Mingjue says and puts the tub of ice cream on Jiang Cheng’s knees, two spoons sticking out of it.

“Thank you,” Jiang Cheng gets out and then, before he can burst into tears again, he stuffs his mouth with ice cream.

Nie Mingjue hums in response, eating his own fill of ice cream and Jiang Cheng is thankful that he just lets him be for now.

He will ask, sooner or later, like he always does, but for now Jiang Cheng can be miserable without him asking any questions.

It takes Jiang Cheng a long time to be done with his ice cream and when he finally puts the spoon down he feels almost sick. It doesn’t help when he realizes that he ate almost the entire tub.

“Sorry,” Jiang Cheng whispers, because for all that he is always welcome in the Nie house, he sometimes still feels like an intruder.

“Don’t be,” Nie Mingjue gives back, somewhat predictably and takes the tub from him to empty it out.

Once Nie Mingjue is done he takes Jiang Cheng’s spoon from him and leaves to the kitchen. It gives Jiang Cheng a little bit of time to compose himself, because he knows that when Nie Mingjue comes back, he’ll want to know what happened.

“You wanna walk?” Nie Mingjue asks when he sits back down and Jiang Cheng shifts around on the couch until he can press his forehead to Nie Mingjue’s shoulder, his feet still securely tucked under Nie Mingjue’s thigh.

“No,” Jiang Cheng gets out, still feeling raw and hurt and Nie Mingjue hums.

Jiang Cheng knows that he will let it be for now, that he would never press, but Jiang Cheng realizes that he wants to get it all out.

He wants Nie Mingjue to comfort him and he wants to stay like this forever and he wants—Jiang Cheng doesn’t even dare to finish that thought, because it will ruin the balance they have and Jiang Cheng couldn’t take it.

“He cheated on me,” Jiang Cheng mutters and he feels how Nie Mingjue tenses under him. “In my own apartment. I came home and he was just—they were—” he breaks off, the memory choking him, but it’s already too late.

Jiang Cheng bursts into tears and he can’t even find it in him to be embarrassed about it.

Nie Mingjue doesn’t hesitate to take him into his arms, but apart from holding him and letting him weep into his shoulder he doesn’t do much. Jiang Cheng is thankful for it, because there’s no amount of nice words that could ever make this okay.

It takes him a long time to calm down again, but when he finally does he has to admit that he does feel a little bit better.

Which doesn’t mean much, because he still feels like shit.

“Why does this keep happening to me?” Jiang Cheng mutters into Nie Mingjue’s shoulder. “What’s so wrong about me that this keeps happening?”

“Nothing is wrong with you!” Nie Mingjue immediately gives back and he squeezes Jiang Cheng’s neck. “It’s them. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Yeah, right,” Jiang Cheng scoffs.

He maybe would have believed it if this was the first or only time. But it’s close to being the seventh time now—not always cheating, but the break-up is always unavoidable for some reason—and there must be something wrong with him for all these people to be in agreement.

“Wanyin, there’s nothing wrong with you,” Nie Mingjue tries again, but Jiang Cheng can’t take these lies, not right now and not from Nie Mingjue.

“Stop it,” he hisses and pulls away from Nie Mingjue. “There is, and we all know it!” he almost yells at him and then he has to get up, he has to get away or else he’s going to crumble.

He can’t bring himself to completely leave but he starts pacing the length of the living-room.

“It’s not—it’s not even only him,” Jiang Cheng says and wrings his hands in front of his chest, aware how Nie Mingjue is following his every movement with his eyes. “How many relationships did I go through now?”

It’s more of a rhetorical question, but Nie Mingjue answers him anyway.

“Seven. This was the seventh.”

“Right. Seven people thought me to be so horrible that they either couldn’t stand me and simply broke up with me, or decided they needed to cheat because clearly I was lacking something.” It almost feels like the bitterness is going to choke him. “How are you going to explain that, huh? Seven people, Mingjue!”

“They just don’t know how to appreciate you!” Nie Mingjue says just as hotly as Jiang Cheng and it’s enough to catch him off guard for a moment. “There is something wrong with them if they can’t see how amazing you are.”

Jiang Cheng stills in his frantic pacing, his heart beating quicker with something else than despair and embarrassment but he chides himself for it immediately.

Nie Mingjue has to say that. Jiang Cheng is almost like a little brother to him, of course he has to say that.

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng hisses. “You don’t know—you’re just saying this because—I don’t want to hear it,” he finishes weakly. “Not from you.”

“Then let me show you,” Nie Mingjue says and he sits up straighter on the couch, his eyes never leaving Jiang Cheng. “Let me show you.”

“Show me how?” Jiang Cheng whispers, afraid where this will go, but Nie Mingjue keeps his gaze unwavering on him.

“Let me date you. Let me show you how it’s done right. Let me take care of you.”

Jiang Cheng blinks a few times, unable to comprehend the words but as soon as the meaning hits him he feels sick to his stomach.

“I hate you,” he whispers and he’s not prepared for the way Nie Mingjue’s face falls. “Why would you do that to me?” Jiang Cheng goes on, and tears flow down his face again. “Why would you—it’s all I ever—I don’t need your pity!”

Nie Mingjue works his jaw a few times, before he abruptly stands up and walks over to Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng takes a few shaking steps back, but Nie Mingjue is relentless in his advance and he takes Jiang Cheng into his arms before he can even think about fighting against Nie Mingjue.

“It’s not pity,” Nie Mingjue whispers into his hair. “It’s not. I love you. I’m tired of seeing you date people who don’t appreciate you, who don’t do right by you. Let me show you instead.”

Jiang Cheng is frozen in his arms, because this can’t be real, but Nie Mingjue doesn’t tell him it’s all a joke and he doesn’t pull away, either.

“You don’t want that. There’s something wrong with me,” Jiang Cheng says when Nie Mingjue doesn’t say anything else and he can feel how Nie Mingjue shakes his head.

“There is nothing wrong with you.”

“I’m unlovable,” Jiang Cheng mutters, because that’s the biggest fear he has.

That he is so horrible, so broken that he is unlovable. That no one out there will ever look at him and think ‘Yes. I love him’.

“I’m loving you just fine,” Nie Mingjue replies and it startles a laugh out of Jiang Cheng that immediately turns into sobs again.

“You can’t lie about this,” he begs Nie Mingjue, and he fists his hands into his shirt. “Mingjue, you can’t lie about this, if you do, I—” Jiang Cheng trails off here, because he can’t even imagine what it will do to him if Nie Mingjue isn’t sincere about this.

“I’m not lying. I’ve been in love with you for a while,” he gives back and Jiang Cheng ducks his head, tries to hide in Nie Mingjue’s chest.

It doesn’t sound real, because this is all Jiang Cheng ever wanted and never even dared to think about, because how could Nie Mingjue feel the same for Jiang Cheng as he does for Nie Mingjue?

“Let me show you,” Nie Mingjue whispers again and presses a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s hair.

Jiang Cheng can’t find his words anymore, and so he simply nods. It terrifies him, because if this goes wrong he’ll lose the only family he has left, but Nie Mingjue has never lied to him.

And Jiang Cheng wants to try with him.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng thought that things would change after that, after their confessions but they don’t. He still comes into the Nie house like he always has. Nie Huaisang still greets him with a smile and a hug and enough teasing to make Jiang Cheng blush. Nie Mingjue is still Jiang Cheng’s steady rock, who easily allows him into his space.

The only thing that does change is that Nie Mingjue reaches out for him much more. Whenever Jiang Cheng is in reach of him, Nie Mingjue will take his hand, or tuck him into his side, press kisses to every part he can reach.

It makes Jiang Cheng blush but he also revels in it. None of his previous boyfriends were this demonstrative with him and it’s a nice change, Jiang Cheng has to admit it.

It still takes him an embarrassing long time to tell Nie Mingjue that he loves him, too, but Nie Mingjue doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. He reiterates again and again that Jiang Cheng is allowed to go on his own pace.

The only thing Nie Mingjue expects from him is to tell him when Jiang Cheng gets tired of him and for that, Jiang Cheng laughs right in his face.

As if he could ever get tired of Nie Mingjue. It’s much more likely to be the other way around and Jiang Cheng can’t quite stop that little lingering grain of doubt in him.

One day Nie Mingjue will wake up and realise that Jiang Cheng is not worth the trouble.

That fear stays right until Nie Mingjue asks Jiang Cheng to marry him. Jiang Cheng cannot believe that he should get this lucky, but he’s also not about to say no.

And whenever the doubt creeps in again, he smoothes his thumb over the ring on his finger and if he feels especially insecure he goes to Nie Mingjue to ask for a kiss or a hug. Nie Mingjue has never told him no and eventually Jiang Cheng believes.

It’s not him who is wrong. And Nie Mingjue loves him as he is.

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