#anyways always read the side effects on your meds guys

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

It’s hard to be strong, sometimes.

“Nothing’s gonna fix me.”

Billy can do the heavy lifting. Can pull the freight with nothing but the sweat on his back to show for it.

“I’m jus’ gonna hurt forever.”

But this?

He isn’t strong enough for this.

“You aren’t,” he coos. “I won’t let you.”

A strained little sob hiccups out of Steve, and he simply shakes his head. The veins running up the length of his neck thump fast with his pulse, rising to the surface of his flushed skin. Tense and angry, like his eyebrows, pinched together harshly no matter how much Billy shushes and croons at him.

He’s got Steve’s face buried in his chest, shirt completely damp around the collar, and Steve’s fists tangles weakly at the sides.

Right now is probably the calmest he’s been all afternoon since this started.

Billy buries his nose in Steve’s hair and closes his eyes, arms wrapped softly around him. Grounding him in place. Smoothing carefully over his back, wary of pressing lest he cause another river of tears.

“Why does something that’s supposed to help hurt so bad?” Steve whines.

As much as Billy wants to squeeze him as tight as he can, he doesn’t. Instead settles one of his hands against Steve’s head, holding his cheek to his chest and gently stroking his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know,” Billy admits. “Sometimes stuff doesn’t work, and you find out the shitty way.”

Steve huffs and makes a frustrated, pained sound into Billy’s shirt that’s followed by a warm wetness soaking into the fabric. Billy shushes into his hair again.

He wishes he could take the ache away. Wishes he could, even for just a moment, see what it feels like.

What could hurt so fucking bad that it has Steve crumbling into a mess of throaty sobs? Steve, who has been knocked around like a ragdoll and simply dusted himself off after?

“‘M gonna hurt forever,” he whines again.

Digs his forehead into Billy’s chest, shifting and rocking himself softly on top of him like he’s trying to physically shake the pain off, and Billy urges him to lie still with a gentle hand on his back.

“You won’t, it’ll pass.”

He tries to say it with certainty, but there’s a slight rasp in his voice to match the mist gathering in his eyes. Even when he gets Steve to fall still again.

“It hurts.”

“What hurts?”

A shaky sob leaves Steve’s lips as he curls his fingers tighter in Billy’s shirt at his sides.

“Everything,” he urges.

Presses himself down hard, muscles tense, like he’s trying to smother himself. Billy keeps his hand smoothing delicately up and down his back.

“I know, baby. Just breathe, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Steve’s muscles shake from the effort, but he eventually listens. Inhales a shallow breath and sighs it out, drawing another one in as slow as he can manage with his elevated heart rate.

It takes a few moments, but his grip eventually eases again. He sniffles and nudges his face against Billy’s ruined shirt, huffing softly.

“It hurts,” he rasps, voice just above a whisper.

“I know, Stevie.” Billy noses a kiss into the brunet’s hair. “I know.”

They lay there like that for a while. Steve eventually tires himself out, nodding off on top of Billy even though he’s still crying. Too emotionally and physically exhausted to stay awake through the pain.

Billy just holds him. Lays his head back on the pillow once Steve’s breathing finally evens out and exhales a long sigh.

He might not be strong enough to fix Steve, because most medications aren’t even strong enough for that.

He supposes that being strong enough to love Steve will suffice, though.

Then at least he doesn’t have to suffer it alone.

[restapesta]

23. Don’t you get it? You’re the only one I can be honest with.

Mickey takes being alone with Ian for granted. He really does.

It's quite sad he only realizes that when he's not alone with his ginger life companion—specifically when he's stuck in a moving car with him and fucking Phillip, feeling like a pussy for not having the guts to just open the door and jump out.

Did Ian put child's lock on his door, what the fuck?

He can't do this. It's a fifteen-minute ride to the Gallagher house and Mickey won't be able to survive it. No fucking way. Why did Ian have to say yes to picking Lip up from work? Did he know what hell he would be putting his poor husband through, huh?

If college bitch says something about his shitty delivery job one more time, he swears to God—

"And you know what the best part about this shitty delivery job is?" No. Please, God, make him stop. "Bathroom? Doesn't even fucking exist,"

If Mickey had a gun, he'd stuff it in his mouth.

From the corner of his eye, Mickey sees Ian's gripping the wheel slightly tighter, his knuckles turning white, his tongue bitten between his slightly clenched teeth. Sadly, only Mickey can see him be so frustrated from the passenger seat. He wishes Lip would lean over from the back and see how fucking annoying he really is with his constant babbling.

Maybe it's good he didn't bring a gun with him—Ian looks like he'd wanna stuff it in his mouth, too.

Does he have child's lock on?

"Anyways," Lip breathes out and Mickey focuses on the buzzing of the AC so he wouldn't have to endure the brainwashing his brother-in-law's—why him?—voice is doing.

Ian seems to be thinking the same thing, his eyes rolling discreetly to the back of his head, staying there for a moment or two.

Mickey's torn between telling him to keep his eyes on the goddamn road or just letting him crash their new car into a pole. At least then they wouldn't have to listen to the yapping that's filling every nook and cranny of the fresh interior.

Their car had never seemed so small. Since when is Mickey so claustrophobic? There used to be so much room.

Oh right, Lip's ego is taking up most of it. How could Mickey forget?

"Oh, yeah," He says suddenly, and Ian and Mickey share a look. What now? Will he ever stop? "I meant to ask you about your meds, Ian. You told me you were visiting your doctor or some shit like that."

Mickey reclines back in his seat, lips pursing as he waits for Ian to fill Lip in on the new prescription and its side effects, and whatever other shit Mickey's already got written down in the notes on his phone from when Ian told him in detail about it.

He had been pretty down when he came home from seeing his doctors, listing off all of the shit he was worried about with the new therapy and adjusting to it. He even had a couple of sleepless nights that resulted in him seeking out different pharmacies to buy sleeping pills, which ultimately led to a night of sleepless vomiting because the cocktail of pills didn't really bode well for Ian's stomach.

Mickey doesn't mind reliving it. Doesn't mind listening to his husband talk about the things important to him and things that Mickey should know about.

And, truthfully, Mickey's already come face to face with the fact that he likes knowing about all of Ian's shit—they're already living, sleeping, and working together, so the prospect of knowing that new meds give Ian diarrhea if they're taken on an empty stomach doesn't really seem like a TMI-type of thing to know.

When Ian's related, nothing and everything is pretty much TMI.

"Oh," Ian responds after a moment of silence. His eyes aren't focused when Mickey turns to look at him. It seems as if he's racking his brain around for the proper words, yet can't seem to find them. Eventually, he just lets out, "Everything's the same. Nothing new."

Mickey knows that's not true.

"Didn't you say you were being put on some new shit?" Lip's confused. Mickey is too.

Ian was put on new shit. Shit that landed him with a week of goddamn exhaustion and a fucked-up stomach.

"No. It's the same."

"Oh," Lip mutters. "Okay then."

And he continues to go into another monologue about why being a delivery boy is such a shitty job to have with a mind of his.

Mickey stares at Ian's side profile for as long as it takes him to turn around and meet his eye. It takes him long—in fact, Mickey's pretty sure Ian won't be turning around any time soon.

Why would he lie? Why would he hide the fact he did change his meds when it's really not that big of a deal?

Mickey's even more confused by it because Ian had ranted about his doctor's appointment the day of it, nearly talking Mickey's ear off. He had been annoyed, relieved, and worried, all at the same time, and the entire Tuesday was just spent with them talking about bipolar like the mundane thing it was.

So, why wouldn't Ian just want to retell that shit again? It wasn't as if he didn't still have frustrations over it. Not like he wouldn't fucking jump on the chance to talk about his biggest concerns the second the opportunity presented itself.

Why then?

Lip's still talking and Ian's still not looking at him.

Mickey places a gentle hand on his thigh, trying to get his attention. In response to Mickey's thumb running over his husband's jeans, Ian just places a hand on top of his, picking it up and raising it to his mouth until the rough skin meets the smoothness of his lips. When he finally looks at him, there's a plead in his eye. An answer to Mickey's unasked question.

Later.

"Ugh, can you guys not do that here? Since when did you become that couple?"

They both ignore the dumbass in the backseat of their car. Ian turns to look ahead, and he pushes his foot down visibly on the gas pedal, and Mickey knows that the time until they're able to drop Lip off is cutting shorter.

"You guys are really annoying with that mind-reading shit, you know that?"

Mickey breathes in deeply.

Five more minutes. Just five more minutes and they'll be alone.

Ian's hand doesn't disentangle from his, but Mickey does move them so they're laying on top of his leg, palms pressed tightly together. He squeezes at it once.

Ian squeezes back.

There's a faint mumble from the back.

"I fucking hate being the third wheel."

Mickey barely stops himself from jumping into Ian's lap, just in spite.

Instead, with his free hand, he just flips him off.

---

They're driving to their place when Mickey finally asks the question. They've been alone for a couple of minutes now, after a prolonged—much to both their dismays—goodbye to Lip in front of the Gallagher house. As soon as it was appropriate to, Ian peeled out of the driveway, putting as much distance between him and his family—his annoying-ass brother—as he possibly could in a record time.

At first, Mickey fiddled with the radio until he landed on some radio station that played pop-shit music, lowering the volume until the Taylor Swift song—he hates that he knows it—was just a hum filling the silence. Ian isn't speaking, but he doesn't seem tense.

He seems just as always, shoulders even further relaxed—slumped, actually, because he has the posture of a question mark—now that Lip is out of the car and in the hands of the others to deal with.

"So," Mickey starts casually when his weirdo of a partner starts singing lowly to Lover on the radio. It's a song they only listen to when they're feeling sappier than usual, but Ian tends to always be sappy, so none of this sweet singing shit was a surprise for Mickey. The lyrics coming out of Ian's mouth still make his chest swell pleasantly, despite him barely holding himself back from rolling his eyes. "What was that?"

"Hm?" Ian's eyes momentarily move to eye Mickey. They go back almost immediately. "What was what?"

"What was that thing with Lip?" The question isn't meant to be judgmental nor accusing. Mickey really is just curious.

It wasn't him whom Ian had lied to. But why did he lie in the first place?

Ian shrugs, lowering the volume with the switch on the wheel even further until they can barely hear the soft voice.

"I just didn't feel like telling him." Is the simple reply.

"Why?"

"Because."

"Ian."

"Mickey—"

"Come on, man, don't give me that bullshit."

"I'm not—I don't," He exhales roughly as if finally forcing himself to admit to something he doesn't want to admit to. "I don't like anybody knowing about it. It's nobody's business but my own."

Mickey makes a face, still confused as fuck. He gets the reasoning behind the words, but it's just not clicking in his brain. Maybe Lip really did brainwash it. "You say you don't like anybody knowing, but you told me."

Ian glances away from the road and sends Mickey the type of look that says he thinks what Mickey just said was the dumbest thing possible. It's incredulous.

"You're not anybody, Mick."

And that's sweet and all, but—

"Lip's not anybody either."

Ian sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, dramatically exasperated. "Don't you get it, Mickey? You're the only one I can be honest with. Completely transparent."

Mickey doesn't know why he's still pushing, but fuck, there's no way. "You can be transparent with Lip. He'll hear you out, give you advice. Won't judge you." Why is he defending Lip again? "I'm not the only one who understands."

"Yeah, but you're the only one who isn't annoying about it. If I wanted Lip to know, I would've called him straight away. But instead, I talked to you. Mickey, you're a dumbass if you don't see that you're the only one I want to tell."

Well fuck.

Mickey blinks. He actually is a dumbass, but that's already been genetically proven. This is something else.

Mickey feels Ian's words deep in his chest. His heart jumps to his throat—it's one of the best things Ian could've said to him. It doesn't feel fucking real.

"Really?" He asks pathetically. It's not like Ian would lie; he's always had a knack for saying everything that's on his mind. Mickey loves that about him right now. It's just that—Mickey? He wants to tell Mickey about it and nobody else?

Ian smiles at him. "Really, babe," Mickey blushes as the nickname. "You know just how many questions to ask. When to listen and when to talk. When to give me advice and when to tell me to get out of my own head." Ian's eyebrows furrow. "Lip doesn't know how to do that. Not like you—"

No. Mickey will not cry. No. It's just eyeball sweat.

"—With you, I know that I can say whatever is on my mind and won't feel like shit about it. It's fucking liberating, having somebody like that."

Mickey breathes in deeply. Fuck Ian for using his words like this and making his heart squeeze impossibly. Why is he so fucking perfect all the fucking time?

How did Mickey get so fucking lucky?

"Yeah," He responds dumbly, out of breath—because it legit is logged up in his throat at the moment. He clears it. "I guess that's what best friends are for."

And the grin Ian sends him in response to the sheepishly-said sentence is enough to make butterflies explode inside Mickey's belly—ugh, no, he's supposed to be past that stage, for fuck's sake.

Ian's still grinning as Mickey's whole face probably turns the shade of Ian's favorite vegetable—maybe that's why Ian likes it when Mickey blushes—and he has to avert his gaze so he doesn't go even redder than Ian's hair.

"Best friends? I feel honored, Mick."

"Shut up."

"No, for real."

"Shut up."

Ian laughs and spares Mickey the embarrassment by raising the volume up on the radio, the song now booming loudly through the space.

Ian glances over at Mickey right as he starts singing it joyfully, a wide smile on his face. This is the Ian Mickey knows and loves—happy Ian.

Mickey's favorite Ian after the horny one.

Mickey's chest swells with pride. He ended up with Ian. The Ian who loves him unconditionally; who knows just the right to say and when to say it; who just told him Mickey's the only one he can be real with.

I can only be honest with you, too. He wants to tell him. I only am honest with you.

Instead of saying the words, he starts singing himself, and the screeching voices of two men stupidly in love are seeping out of the slightly opened windows, the wind whooshing them away.

I can only do this with you, Mickey thinks. I'm only this free with you.

Judging by the way Ian's smiling, Mickey guesses he's thinking the same thing, too.

"Darling, you're my, my, my, my lover."

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 13

Hello friends we have come to the end of Cult Girl. Thank you all for hyping me up throughout this story and giving me the confidence to actually post my work. Y/n and Hannibal throw a dinner party.

The sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the entire kitchen in that homey mid-morning glow. You were enjoying your coffee and scrolling through an article on your phone.

"Senator Hatch reportedly coughed up his late wife's toe on the floor of the precinct." You read out loud. "Huh. Wonder how that could have happened."

You side-eyed Hannibal, who was contentedly sharpening his knives. Placing a rather large meat cleaver to the side, he met your gaze. "I have my ways."

You finished off your coffee and brought the mug to the sink. "There was no way Theresa was going to survive that night, was there?"

"Clever girl." Hannibal praised.

"You were going to kill her if I didn't, were you?" You felt a smile coming on. "Did everything turn out as expected?"

"Darling, this all went much better than I could have ever hoped for." He smirked. "See, I had the whole evening mapped out. I was hoping you'd be the one to deliver justice and kill her, but I had to prepare for the possibility that you wouldn't."

You folded your arms and leaned against the island. "Is that why I was so sick that day?"

You could have sworn you saw some hesitation in Hannibal's face. Maybe even a touch of regret. "Yes. You needed an alibi. It was as easy as removing a single birth control pill from your packet. You'd see it was missing and think you'd already taken your medicine-"

"So I'd neglect to take my focus meds." You cut in. "Yeah, I knew something was off."

"By the end of the day, you'd be experiencing full withdrawal symptoms." Hannibal nodded. "I don't take any pleasure in upsetting the delicate balance of your brain chemistry, and for that I am sorry. I did what I had to."

"Yeah, don't ever do that again." You ordered, no disarming smile in sight. "I need those meds to function."

"I promise you, darling," Hannibal said, sincerely. "I would never keep you from being anything but your very best. I was just looking after you."

"I suppose now that all this is out in the open, you won't need to pull any shit like that again." You muttered. "But I'm still going to keep my pills at my apartment."

"That reminds me." He said. "Would you like to invite your roommates for dinner tonight? I've prepared a wonderful Spanish-inspired menu that's perfect for entertaining."

"I'd love for you to meet my friends, but, they all keep such weird hours I doubt they'll all be free tonight." You shrugged. "I'll give them a call though."

"Wonderful." He smiled. "You make arrangements while I prepare the kitchen."

You stepped into the office and called up Pilar. She answered within the minute.

"[F/N]!" She near shouted. "Holy fuck, how are you doing?"

"I'm actually doing..." you looked back into the kitchen, watching your beloved Hannibal in his element. "Really well."

"I heard about your cousin." Pilar cut in. "One down, two to go."

You snorted. "No fucking shit."

"Sorry, was that okay for me to say?" She apologized. "I know you said Theresa was a bitch, but it's your trauma and I-"

"No, you're fine." You laughed. "She was a bitch. Hey, do you have any plans tonight?"

"Uh, no. I don't think so." She answered. "Why?"

"Hannibal wants to invite you all for dinner tonight." You said with an audible smile. "Y'know, to celebrate the bitch's death."

"Yo! Steph!" Pilar shouted across the room. "Wake Randy up! We're having dinner at [F/N]'s rich boyfriend's house!"

You could make out Stephanie's voice in the background. "It's about damn time. We've been waiting for her to redistribute the wealth."

"She means thank you for the invitation." Pilar corrected.

"It's not like I had to twist his arm or anything. It was his idea." You chuckled. "He loves having guests. And excuses to dress up."

"Oh so we're getting fancy, huh?" Pilar's voice turned up in excitement.

"Hey [F/N]!" Randy snatched the phone from Pilar. "Text me the menu for tonight. My girlfriend'll steal a nice bottle of wine to pair. She's a pro, she works over at Cavatappi's wine and spirits."

"Much obliged, Randy." You said. "I'll see you guys at seven."

You returned to the kitchen with a smile. "They're coming."

"Well, we don’t have a moment to lose, then." Hannibal placed something wrapped in butcher paper on the counter. "Come now. Let me show you how to properly prepare a heart.

You and Hannibal spent the rest of the morning and the whole afternoon preparing a bountiful meal. You reveled in the irony of finally finding a space for Theresa in your life. That space just so happened to be on the stove.

Seven came far too quickly, but your friends were always a welcome sight. You greeted them at the door with hugs, Hannibal watching with stoic adoration.

"Guys, this is Hannibal Lecter, my partner." You introduced. "Hannibal, this is Pilar, Stephanie and Miranda."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, ladies." Hannibal greeted. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

"Here you go, Dr. Lecter." Randy handed him a bottle of wine. "Thank you for inviting us."

Hannibal examined the bottle. "Yes, this will pair quite nicely with our meal. Thank you very much. [F/N], could you show our guests to the dining room?"

You nodded and accepted the bottle, given the extra responsibility of pouring. You led your friends to the dining room and wasted no time distributing the alcohol.

"A toast." Stephanie rose her glass. "Too many of history's worst have had the privilege of dying on their own terms. Today, we celebrate the death of one who didn't: Theresa [L/N]."

"She will join her sisters Nancy Reagan and Madame Nhu in hell tonight." You concurred, tapping your glasses together with a series of satisfying clinks.

"Okay, you need to spill." Randy scooted her chair up and leaned towards you. "How the hell did you get away with it?"

"Well, it helped a lot that her husband was already a felon." You teased. "If I didn't kill her, he was going to eventually."

Pilar made a face. "I can't believe it took actual murder to get that latter-day lump thrown in prison."

"Well, the LDS church is a very influential organization with a stronghold on all of Utah." You explained. "There's a long history of legitimizing sex abuse there."

"We know, cult girl." Stephanie laughed. "You remind us every time your pedophile cousin-in-law comes up. Relax and take your victories where you can get them.” 

“Ladies,” Hannibal entered. You rushed to his side to help him with the dinner plates. “Have we ever tried organ meat before?” 

Everyone’s eyes found Pilar. 

“Braised liver is delicious and you guys are just cowards.” Pilar protested. “I will die on this hill.” 

Hannibal smiled and presented your friends with their plates. “You are a woman of good tastes, Pilar. Our first course is Riñones al Jerez.” 

“Kidneys.” Randy translated. “Who’s kidneys are we eating today, Dr. Lecter?” 

He tilted his head. “Theresa’s, of course.” 

“I don’t care whose organs you harvested.” Stephanie said, her eyes rolling back into her head. “This is delicious.” 

You and Hannibal shared a glance and a smile. 

You and your roommates devoured the Riñones al Jerez, then dug into the next serving of heart stewed with chickpeas and olives. You finished off the evening with natillas de leche and a bottle of Sauternes Hannibal just happened to have lying around. 

“This is the first time since like, Keith Raniere got sentenced that I’ve seen [F/N] happy-drunk.” Stephanie observed.

“Or even just... happy." Pilar said, looking at Hannibal. "I'll have some of whatever she's having, please."

"My pleasure." Hannibal poured her another glass of wine.

Your phone began to buzz on the table, capturing the attention of your guests. You didn't even need to look at the caller ID to know who it was. Nobody else in the world had such horrid timing.

"Shit, you've got to answer it here!" Stephanie pleaded. "So we can all give her a piece of our mind!"

You looked over to Hannibal, who you knew was just as curious.

You dragged the answer icon across the screen and put it on speaker. You gestured for your friends to be quiet. "Yeah?"

"Well look who finally decided to pick up." Grandma said. "Thank you for gracing me with your attention. I know you have so much going on right now, you're just too busy to pick up the phone and talk to your grieving grandmother."

"For your information..." you stumbled over your words. "I was interrogated by the police yesterday. I think that counts as having something going on."

"Are you drunk?" Her voice was laced with a disproportionate level of disgust.

"I'm grieving too, Beatrice." You counter. "What, suddenly you're the only one who can drink the pain away? That's not very democratic of you."

"In your state, you shouldn't even be thinking of alcohol!" Grandma scolded. "You of all people should know the effects alcohol has on an unborn baby."

You smacked yourself on the head. Of course Theresa would plant a seed to fuck you over one last time. "Did Theresa actually tell you I was pregnant?"

"It was her last message to me, actually. Anyway, you're coming home." Grandma said, without so much as waiting for a response. "I won't have my great grandchild living in that dangerous city that your cousin was killed in."

You exchanged looks with your friends, who were going through the same combination of emotions as you were. Grandma's words just seemed to fade out as you shared an entire nonverbal conversation with the people around you.

"And you're leaving that terrible, terrible man."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow and looked at you, waiting to see how you'd respond. You knew what you had to do. It was finally time. You did something you should have done a long time ago.

"No." You said, your nerves loosened by the wine.

"What?"

"No. And I mean it." A big smile crossed your lips. "Theresa lied to you. I'm not pregnant. And you have to live with the fact that your granddaughter's last words to you were a blatant lie."

Hannibal looked at you with pride and your friends began to silently gas you up with encouraging gestures. "

"...And that you're the only one to blame for her deception." You continued. "You raised her in your own image."

"This is why I refuse to let you raise my great grandchild with that man!" She wailed. "He's twisted your mind against me! He's made you cruel!"

"Hannibal made me see clearly that you made me cruel." You said with absolute certainty. "You'll never see me again."

"Don't be like your mother, [F/N]." Grandma snarled. "Don't cut people out for trying to help."

"You'll never see me again." You repeated and decided to leave it at that. You ended the call and blocked the number, joined by an eruption of excitement from your friends.

It was finally over. Your life could truly begin.

[thebreakfastgenie]

I am sorry if you talked about it somewhere already but i am curious of your thoughts/speculation on the canon intention/headcanon on Hawkeye's sexuality? like his journey, preferences etc. Just for fun! I like reading people's analyses.

Hi!! The topic has definitely come up, but I'm not sure I've ever just addressed it, and anyway I love repeating myself, so I definitely don't mind being asked!

I'm putting this under a cut because it got long.

These are two separate answers, so let me address canon intention first. It's kind of an odd thing, I think, by modern standards. It was the early 70s, when you didn't just have gay characters. I think Hawkeye was sometimes queercoded, particularly in the early seasons, but it's important to understand what queercoding means in this context. It doesn't mean "this character was secretly queer, they just weren't allowed to say so." I don't think anyone, if you asked, would say they were writing or portraying Hawkeye as a bisexual man. However, there are more than a few moments that suggest Hawkeye is attracted to men that are definitely intentional.

I think Hawkeye's queercoding is an extension of his subversiveness. It's not unrelated to his skirt-chasing. The idea that his sexual appetite is so large and adventurous it can even extend to men isn't unique; you see the darker side in the "depraved bisexual" trope. What makes Hawkeye so interesting is that the moral compass of MASH is on his side, which lends his subversiveness a kind of paradoxical wholesomeness. On MASH, the subversives are morally right and the establishment is morally wrong. Hawkeye is queercoded to highlight his subversiveness, and his subversiveness is positive.

The queercoding is often played for comedy, but it doesn't usually come across as mean-spirited, at least to me (and I know a lot of other gay people have said the same, but I won't claim it's universal). There's always a certain level of earnestness to it, both in the script and in the performances. I do wonder what effect Alan Alda being influenced by burlesque had on this aspect of the character. I specified performances because it also extends to how other characters interact with him. I think it's similar to how the character of Klinger was handled.

Basically, I definitely think the queercoding was deliberate, but I don't think anyone was consciously creating a bisexual character. However, viewers then and now may pick up on the subtext of the show and interpret Hawkeye as a bisexual character.

I don't think this comes as a surprise to anyone, but I interpret Hawkeye as a bisexual man. Maybe something less obvious is I headcanon that he has a preference for women. I'm not sure if it's a strong preference, or just a slight preference that's amplified by women being more available and safer. Since you asked, all headcanons at this point are my own.

My headcanon is that he's basically always known. Maybe in high school he met boys in neighboring towns, maybe he didn't have any experiences until college. I think Daniel figured it out when he was a teenager, too, but they never really talked about it. I don't think Hawkeye and Tommy Gillis ever dated, but I do headcanon Tommy as gay, and I think they were aware of each other's orientations.

In college and med school he had some encounters with men... probably guys he met at parties and sort of gravitated toward. I do think he had some relationships with women, and maybe some with men (but fewer) but most of them weren't serious. To use a phrase from the time period, maybe he "went with" a girl for a few months, but it was more about having fun together than any longterm plans on either of their parts. The big exception is Carlye and I don't think he had any other relationships on that level.

I don't really see Hawkeye as having a lot of angst about being bisexual in the forties and fifties. It's just how he is and he's comfortable with himself. I think he had only a slight awareness of the queer community. He lived in the mainstream, heterosexual world, and visited this other world from time to time. I think if he lived in modern world, he would be more open and explore that community more, but I think living in the time he does, he's content enough with his own situation and doesn't feel especially suppressed. I actually feel pretty strongly about this one.

If he were to fall in love with a man and want to pursue a serious relationship I think that would be different, but I think it would take actually having that experience to make him think about it, and I don't think he's had that experience at the point in his life where he meet him. It could happen after the war, or not.

While he's in Korea, it's hard to say if he really expects his flirting with men to go anywhere, but I wouldn't be surprised if it does on occasion. Quick, discrete hookups. Maybe his closest friends know and maybe they don't. I think Hawkeye's bisexuality is something everyone at the 4077th knows about, but nobody really discusses. I think he probably did talk about it to some extent with Trapper, but that's the only one I can really picture. BJ definitely knows, but I don't think they talk about it. And I think that's how Hawkeye's always been. He's careful, he always has deniability (it's a joke!), but he's not overly guarded.

I'm going to stop now because this is getting so rambly but I might add something I forgot later.

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

The Night Shadows Watching The Darkness Approaching

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: oh look, another fic in which Wilhemina cries :) This one has been sitting in my drafts for months because somehow I couldn’t let it go. It’s short and sad and I hope you’ll like it. x

Title from Come On Out by The Airbone Toxic Event.

Word count: ≈ 1 900

Something woke you in the middle of the night to find the bed empty. You reached out; the sheet was cold. Squinting in the dark, you made out the outline of Wilhemina’s pillow, creased, and of the door, half-opened. Somewhere in the house a light was on. You sighed.

You got up and walked through the darkness towards the light. It came from the living-room, whose door was slightly ajar. You took a peek inside.

Wilhemina was lying on the couch, hands folded on her stomach. Her eyes were closed and her face was contorted with pain. You noticed the bucket she had placed on the floor at arm’s length, in case the pain became too much, too much to bear just too much and she would have to throw up. Let it out one way or another.

You watched her for a minute, swallowing hard. Your heart clenched painfully in your chest. It tended to do that often, since you had started dating Wilhemina.

You didn’t want to embarrass her, so you knocked on the door and waited, to give her time to compose herself. When you eventually walked in, her face was completely blank, if only slightly pale.

“Hey,” you called, forcing a smile. “You’re up late.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Her voice was calm. “Go back to bed.”

You crouched by the couch, staring up at her. She was avoiding your gaze, resolutely scowling at the ceiling.

“Did you take your meds?” you asked after a while.

“I’m not stupid, Y/N,” she snapped.

You frowned, but didn’t snap back. Instead you rested your chin on the couch and waited.

“What can I do?” you asked.

“Go back to sleep,” Wilhemina repeated. This time, the words were uttered through gritted teeth.

“I meant to help you feel better.”

“I’m feeling perfectly fine.”

“Mina.” Her eyes flicked to your face before she scowled back up at the ceiling. “I’ll go get the hot water bottle,” you said.

She was exactly in the same position when you came back. It seemed to you her face was even paler than before, and you saw her chin tremble, once.

“Here, can you prop yourself up just a bit?” you asked gently.

She didn’t move.

“This is stupid, Y/N,” she said.

“Mina, you know it’s not. Heat really helps ease the pain. It does wonders when I have period cramps. Please.”

Carefully you helped her sit up, placed the hot water bottle on the couch, and helped her lie down again with her head in your lap. You laid one hand on her arm and gently stroked her hair with the other. “Are you feeling sleepy at all?” you whispered.

She shook her head.

“Do you want me to sing something to you, to help you pass the time?”

You had done that before, once or twice, when she had come back from work particularly pissed off. You loved to sing, and you had noticed how your voice always seemed to help her relax, even though she would probably never admit it.

“Suit yourself,” she answered in a slightly strained voice.

You thought for a second, combing your fingers through her hair. “Take my hand,” you started, voice low and soft, “take my whole life too.” Wilhemina scoffed. You held back a smile. “For I can’t help falling in love with you,” you whispered, poking her ear playfully.

Wilhemina reached for your hand on her arm and laced her fingers with yours. “Like a river flows surely to the sea, darling so it goes, some things are meant to be.”

You gently rubbed her forehead, just as your mother used to when you had a headache. Ran one finger down her nose, patted her upper lip. Her chin trembled again. She blinked several times, swallowed.

“Mina?” You waited until she met your eyes. “It’s okay to cry when you’re hurting, you know?”

She scoffed, gave you an angry look, but her eyes immediately filled with tears as if a dam had broken.

“I won’t judge you, or think you’re weak.” You paused, gulping back tears of your own. “I think you’re so very strong all the time.”

You ran your finger over her lower lip, then up her cheek to catch a lonely tear. Wilhemina blinked quickly, raised her free hand to wipe her eyes. “I’m fine,” she said in a firm voice.

You knew how she hated showing vulnerability. She had only ever cried once in front of you. The first time you had held her close. Her body pressed against yours, her face buried in your neck, one of her legs trapped between yours, your arms wrapped tightly around her. You had heard her breath hitch and just like that she had burst into tears. As if no one had ever held her before.

You leant forward and dropped a kiss on her forehead. There was that sadness in your heart you couldn’t quite get rid of.

Wilhemina shifted to readjust her position. You combed your fingers through her hair again, gazing at her face, trying to think of something to say to try and distract her from the pain.

“Did I tell you about that article I read the other day?” you said eventually. “It was so very interesting. Some guy wrote ten pages on the Placebo effect. I didn’t know much about it.”

You rambled on, telling her about what you had learnt, until she suddenly interrupted you in a quiet, dull voice.  

“My parents told me it was all in my head, too, the first few times I complained about my back pains. More than the first few times, actually. They told me I should quit being a baby and work at being stronger. When they finally took me to a doctor, it was too late to do anything about it.”

Your fingers froze in her hair.

“How long?” you asked in a breath. “How long before they took you to a doctor?”

It took her too long to answer. In the silence you heard your heart break.

“Three years and a half.”

You felt like punching something. You felt like screaming. You could have, could have jumped to your feet, could have knocked over the coffee table, thrown the bucket at the wall. But anger wasn’t what Wilhemina needed right now. She had been so alone. Never again, you promised yourself. You’d lasso the stars and bring them down and give them to her so she would always have company when you were gone.

“Go to bed,” Wilhemina repeated.

You kissed her mouth. “Not without you,” you murmured into the kiss.

She let out a small noise and lifted her head to claim more of you. She was being too harsh, too clumsy, teeth drawing blood and lips sucking on the wound, but you let her. You were grateful for the pain, for it made you feel closer to her.

One of her hands came up to tangle in your hair. “I won’t be weak,” you heard her whisper, voice angry, as her mouth launched a new attack on yours. Her nails dug into the nape of your neck. “I won’t let you rip my strength from me.”

Somewhere far away a clap of thunder growled. Wilhemina bit your upper lip. “I see what you’re trying to do,” she hissed. “Using tenderness to try and break me but I won’t let it happen, do you hear me? You won’t win. I’ll break you first.”

“Wilhemina,” you whispered – pulling away, panting, and pressing one hand on her chest to pin her against the couch.

“I’ll break you and I will scatter all the tiny pieces of you so no one after me can ever assemble them again.”

“Wilhemina,” you repeated. You leaned forward and planted a kiss on her forehead.

She tried to push you away, rejecting tenderness, she tried to sit up; her fingers wrapped around your hand that held her against the couch and clawed viciously at your skin.

“I will destroy you,” she hissed.

“Mina.” A kiss to her brow. A kiss to her nose. Her lips parted on a shaky breath like the last breath a soldier draws on a battlefield.

You removed your hand from her chest and held it out in surrender. “Go ahead, then. Destroy me. I don’t mind. It’d kill me to lose you anyway. So, one way or another, you win.”

You smiled at her. For you meant it, every word of it. And it felt exhilarating. It felt like you had finally found home. No matter how dark and scary the place, no matter how full of lethal traps. You would choose her, over and over again, for no one else would do.

“Go ahead,” you repeated, laughing. “Destroy me.”

You grabbed her hand and wrapped it around your throat. Something in her eyes changed. She seemed to hesitate.

“What are you waiting for?” you cried, squeezing her fingers; you could feel your own elevated pulse through her flesh. “I’m ready. Choke the breath out of me. What are you waiting for?”

It was starting to hurt, your head was starting to buzz, but you didn’t care. You had rarely ever felt so alive.

“Stop it,” Wilhemina whispered, her eyes growing wide. She tried to free her hand from your grip, but you held it firmly around your throat.

You leaned towards her. “Don’t let me undermine you. Claim back your strength. I don’t want to rob you of what you hold dearest. Do it!”

“I said, stop!” she cried, wrenching her hand free; she turned her head to the side, and bit her lip as fresh tears spilled from her eyes.

You watched her, your whole body burning and quivering from the excitement and the love and the passion. Wilhemina gasped in a breath, wiped her cheeks fiercely. She shifted a bit, nuzzled the back of the couch, looked askance at you.    

You waited a few minutes before you started combing your fingers through her hair again. She eagerly leaned into your touch.

Another clap of thunder, louder, closer. You laid your free hand on Wilhemina’s cheek at the sound, almost protectively, felt her warmth build under your fingers. She turned her head to kiss the inside of your palm and whispered, “Hold me.”

And then she was sitting up, tears dropping from her eyes and rolling down her cheeks, and she wrapped her arms around your waist and pressed her face against your shoulder and let out a broken sob.

You closed your eyes against the sting of tears, holding her close, trying to make her shift so her back would be as straight as possible but she pushed deeper into you, clutching the back of your shirt, hair tickling your neck.

“I don’t care,” you heard her say, small and muffled. “I don’t care. Just – hold me.”  

And you did. For you had only ever seen her cry once before, the first time you had snuggled up to her, your body pressed against hers, one of her legs trapped between yours.

You held her, and stroked her hair as you listened to the thunderstorm roar in the sky, tear at the clouds and rip them to shreds and howl in pain, and then, slowly, subside.

[imgoingtohellsofuckit]

Healing Process

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings - None that I can think of

Summary - After Spencer got shot the bau put him on a two week leave to recover. He’s not taking it well so you try to help him find the good in all of this.

This takes place during season five so read at your own risk.

"Spencer come on," Y/n says as she moves to her boyfriend's side as he tries to get off the couch, "you need to lie down."

"I finished my book I'm just getting another," He says struggling to grab at his crutches. She moves over to him as Spencer gives up and sits back on the couch. "Can you-?"

Y/n grabs the stack of books he pulled earlier to read and sits them down on the table beside Spencer.

"Anything else Spencer?" She asks as she moves to adjust the pillow under his knee lightly. He tenses. Clearly in pain. "Do you want something for the pain maybe?"

"No," He says at once. She nods lightly. Knowing how uncomfortable he is with the idea of taking any pain meds after his past issues. She moves to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear. He groans slightly. Pain clearly too much for him. He tries not to show it. Instead, he lifts his book up. Trying to focus on the words.

"I'm going to start lunch," Y/n says softly. He doesn't acknowledge the statement. She moves into the kitchen. Gathering the supplies to cook. She's trying to stay positive. However, every sneak of glance she gets at Spencer just reinforces her worry. "Emily we both are fine- I promise."

"What's he doing?"

"He's reading," Y/n tells the other girl, "and before you even ask yes I'm keeping him off his feet."

"How's he doing though?" Emily asks. Y/n looks over at her boyfriend flipping through the pages of the book. "Okay, I hope?"

"Uh he's doing- alright," She says softly, "mostly." Y/n sighs as she goes to stir the soup. "He's reading a lot... Has been since he got released from the hospital." Emily chuckles lightly. "He's read these books a hundred times- maybe more. I'm surprised he can still stand them." Y/n laughs lightly. She moves to look over at Spencer. He was trying to get up. "Emily I'll call you back- Spencer." She sets the phone down as she rushes towards the man. "Spencer come on you know you can't keep getting up."

"I just need to go to the bathroom," Spencer assures the girl. She moves to his side.

"Then let me help you," She says as she moves to support his side, "come on."

"I've got it-"

"Just let me help you, love," She says softly, "come on Spencer." He sighs letting her help support his weight. She gently helps him along the hall to the bathroom. He takes over once inside. Making a point to shut the door on her. She sighs. "Just yell when you need help out." She hears him mumble beyond the door. She moves to step towards the living room. Straightening up the stacks of books and folding the blankets. The door opening catches her attention. She moves to try to help him. He pulls away slightly.

"I've got it," Spencer says firmly.

"It's alright I can help-"

"I said I've got it!" Spencer snaps. Y/n backs away. Clearly surprised by the tone. He sighs lightly. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to yell. It's just- I have to be able to do this on my own." She nods. He moves using the crutches to move along the hallway. She watches him closely. Making sure he isn't hurt in any way. Once he gets back to the couch he starts to fall. She rushes to his side to grab him. Helping him onto the couch. "Dammit." He growls.

"Spencer it takes a bit you won't get it overnight," She tells him, "but you're doing so well Spence." He huffs loudly. A guy like he isn't used to not being able to learn something quickly.

"I don't feel like it," He groans.

"I know but you're already getting better love," Y/n assures him as she carefully sits beside him. She reaches for his hand. Gripping it gently. "Let me get you something to eat." She stands moving to get him something to eat. Making sure the placement is neat. Hoping to give him some kind of comfort. Once she hands it over he still seems slightly upset. She knows this is weighing on him. He hates feeling useless like this. "Eat up Spencer."

"Thanks," He says softly. Y/n moves to help him prop his knee up. He doesn't look at her. She tries not to take it to heart.

"Need anything else?"

"No I think I'm fine," He says. She nods. She moves to sit beside him. Grabbing her laptop to work on her own work. Despite the fact, Rossi sent them both home until Spencer was better she was trying to help them as best she can. I mean losing three agents at once is a huge hit on the force. But after Hotch was shot he needed time off- and of course, Spencer needed time to recover himself. And if Spencer can't walk he can't exactly take care of himself. So Rossi sent you with him. "What's the new case?"

"I'm not allowed to tell you," Y/n says as she runs through the background check, "Rossi's orders. Sorry love."

"Come on I can help," He says leaning towards her. She tilts the screen so he can't see it. He rolls his eyes lightly. "Come on-"

"Spencer you should focus on resting," She tells him, "besides you won't be on this case. They are already in Arizona giving them the profile- your job would be done anyways."

"You know it doesn't end at the profile," He points out.

"Yeah- but your jurisdiction does," She tells him, "this part is my job. Tech lady remember."

"Just let me help-"

"Spencer," She says firmly, "I don't need your help. I'm perfectly fine running a background check by myself. You should eat while it's still hot." He sighs. Leaning back to start at the soup again. "Besides- I have their guy right here. I'm sending it to JJ and Rossi now." He nods lightly. She shuts her laptop and moves to place her hand on his thigh carefully. Making sure not to mess with his knees or bandages.

"I just feel useless like this," He sighs, "I mean Hotch is already out. They need me there- they need us there." She smiles lightly. Trying not to show pity in the look. "It just sucks."

"I know babe," She says taking his hand, "but you need to be here recovering. If you don't take care of it now then you won't get to go back on the field. And that is so much worse than 2 weeks out." He nods.

"I guess you're right," He says softly.

"I always am," She smiles, "besides it's not all bad here." He raises a brow. Wondering how this could in any way be something other than bad. "We get to spend our time together. Not looking at dead bodies." He smiles lightly. "And we don't have a no PDA rule here."

"That's true," He says smirking, "you know there was a study- it hasn't been completely proven yet but it's worth a shot?"

"Yeah what is it, Spence?"

"Rumor says a kiss can make someone feel better," He says smirking lightly. She moves gently pulling him into a soft kiss. He deepens it immediately. Moving his hands to the sides of her face. He takes control. They both are clearly enjoying it. She chuckles as she breaks the kiss.

"Feel any better?" She asks.

"Hmm, I think we should try it again," Spencer says, "I don't think it took its full effect." She nods. He moves meeting her for another sweet kiss.  This time he's the one to break the kiss. A big smile stretched across his face. "I think this study has a point. I feel much better."

"Sure you do lover boy," Y/n says smiling lightly, "now how about some ice? Might take the swelling down at least."

"That would be fantastic," Spencer says. She moves off to get her boyfriend the ice back. He smiles lightly as he watches her move off. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad he thinks to himself. They don't get much time with just the two of them outside of work and the free time they normally get is spent catching up on sleep. It's nice for them to have moments where they can just enjoy being around each other. Sure he wishes the situation was different but he can't exactly change that now.

"Alright here is your ice," She says handing it over to him, "10 minutes on. I'll set a timer for you."

"Thank you," He says smiling lightly.

"You're welcome Spencer," She says brightly as she sits beside him again. She moves to grab her laptop again but Spencer stops her. "What's up?"

"Can we try that independent study again?"

"Anytime Spencer," She says meeting him in another soft kiss.

Maybe these two weeks wouldn't be so bad.

[builder051]

Happy. Starbucks. Sunday. OMG.

I’ve been vaguely around for the past couple weeks. Then we had to skip last week because DD and I were jamming to Bad Wolves and Papa Roach—totally worth it, by the way— It’s been so long since we’ve been able to make it to a live event that I actually can’t quite place our last concert in the timeline… I think it was Breaking Benjamin…before the pandemic. But, anyway, we deaf peeps love our hard rock and big noise. We’re seeing Greta Van Fleet again later this month (sssoooooo excited; this one is my fave), and have tix for Breaking Benjamin when they pass through in May.

This probably feels hella irrelevant, but I’m gushing, because, friends, I feel like I’m finally coming back home after a long forced sabbatical. I’ve been really ill since December last year, as in, operating on depleted body functions. I’ve had several Iron and IVIG infusions to get my basal metabolic panel to come back reading any slant toward normal. My main antipsychotic/mood control/migraine and (possible) seizure control med was taken away, for there’s literature that it, along with pretty much every other med on the planet, can have headaches as a side effect. I guess it’s a fair thing to try a taper-and-switch in a patient like me who has had zero relief from other established treatments, but, long story short, bigtime fail, many weeks taper off, realize mistake, a few more weeks to taper back on (so as not to induce a rash or psychotic episode), and finally, finally I get to about 3/4 of my dose, and I’m like, wow. If I just put the keyboard on the iPad for a few minutes, I wonder what will happen? And I’m actually willing to do it and find out, which is 10,000 steps up from a few days ago, when it was more like, can I get out of bed to go get a cup of tea, look at the blank schedule, and find something productive to do? Um, no. Cry on DD’s lap, then probably listen to NPR for an hour before either being colonized by a cat or getting the gumption to empty the dishwasher or smth, whilst feeling guilty I haven’t made creative content on any social media platform or done a project with the kids in living memory.

So, deep breath. Sorry for wasting your time and space. I trust you guys to look out for me, and I think you deserve to get a truthful explanation for why I’ve been kinda hands-off and flighty and turning out very few pieces that, well, aren’t that good. I’m back in my own, good, regular headspace now, and I’m so relieved. While this blog will always be an autocratic one-man show, provided to the public for free at my convenience, it will always also have a place for recs, reqs, and comment cards. I want to write what pleases me, and I want to write what pleases you. It makes me happy to see the likes and reblogs gain numbers. Yeah, I roll my eyes at a prompt here and there. Some of them are so positive, letting me know you want more/different iterations of things I’ve put up before. And sometimes you hit me with amazing ideas that make sparks fly.

Again, to summarize:

-I’m feeling much better. Probably better than I have so far this year.

-Hopeful the quality/quantity of things will pick up, but life is still very big and obstacle-y. (Baby is in hospital, I have tons of appointments, and just DD and I are home with the kiddos rn.)

-Please, my followers, continue supporting and reading and requesting and doing what you do. I love you.

And with that, here is today’s Starbucks Sunday plan:

-Classic prompt play, but with parameters, please:

-For Captain America, stick to Powers/No Powers or Whoa Bessie ‘verses. (The others with popular reqs either need a break or are getting an overhaul soon.)

-St. Patrick’s day/green beer is fine because DD said so. 🤣 Please no underage or Irondad and Spiderson.

-Bits and pieces that could use some attention, if you need some inspiration: Jonestown ‘verse, Clint + Nat + Laura, Whoa Bessie ‘verse pre-Steve (James struggling alone in the apartment or in therapy w/ Nat or Sam), Venom/Veddie (super fun to do in, like, 200-word bursts with minimal context, if you have a specific symptom or misadventure in mind)…

-Ask game is going up, feel free to play or ask a Q of your own.

- I’m going to try to stay in the time parameters as best I can (logging off around 6:30 PM US Eastern, Daylight Savings), because it helps DD and the bbs stay regulated (and me, too, really).

NOW— a couple things coming up:

- April is designated We fit like an Enfit (Tube ‘verse) month. I will be writing ONLY for that ‘verse during April, except during SS, when everything goes. I loosely plan to :

-finish/round up Cuts and Scrapes (currently missing part III)

-Catch you up with and iron out the timeline, starting from Steve’s diagnosis and leading off to where he is at “present” as a functional tubie x2, minus a colon, plus a BF with a spiffy arm and Bluetooth ears. There are a few, like, major event stories, I guess I’d call them? Like, not super long (or maybe super long, you know me, and this hasn’t made it from scribble notes to computer yet), but stories that would read like an episode of a TV drama series? That’s the best way I could describe them. I need to do 3 or 4 and place them among the stories I’ve already written for the ‘verse. The boys have this established backstory, I just haven’t had a chance to get it all written out yet!!

-take all your questions about everything related to Tube ‘verse and the likes. I tend to roll with medical slang when I write; it just seems to flow better that way, but I know some of you get it and some of you probably don’t. And for what things look like, feel like, anatomy, recovery, illness, intimacy, whatever… Be as nosy as you want; nothing is a “stupid” question, and if anything is out of bounds, I’ll answer for Steve, a fictional character with no say-so, and everything will be fine.

-Collect your Tube ‘verse prompts and see where you’re interested in seeing the boys go from here. I have a lot if work to do to prop the ‘verse up to look the way I want it to, but, seriously, going forward, I have yet to make any plans. I’ll obviously act as the executive, ensuring all fics are medically realistic and done up properly, but feel free to drop your ideas. Inspire me. Let me know what you want to read.

-And a scheduling note— I think things look good to keep pressing on as usual, but there may be a cancel here or there in the spring/summer timetable due to little buddy’s ballet performance timings. He’s doing amazing things—has medical challenges and tubes like me, but he’s gained, like, three levels’ worth of strength/technique/coordination in the past academic year. When he first started in the entry class, he couldn’t distinguish pointe/flex, do a push up, pick knees up and skip… and now he does pilates teasers on the living room floor just for fun, can do rond de jambes at tempo back to front and front to back, AND he’s holding passe balance so well that he’s leaning the steps to prepare for a pirouette!! Sorry, I’m being such a weepy little old millennial here, bragging on my kid, but I’ve been out of commission for all of 2022 so far, and seeing little guy excel in my playing field… it’s just the coolest thing.

Ah, sorry to bombard you with all that. To quote the late, great Tony Stark:

Go break some eggs.

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, part 3 [read on ao3] [co-written with @darkmagyk]

Several more weeks and hookups later, Annabeth thinks she should probably come clean. Some people might bury it deep, and for sure, Annabeth’s considered it, but, well. It is kind of embarrassing that she didn’t know Percy’s name at first. Stuff like that doesn’t usually bother her--she’s had nameless one night stands in the past, and despite Thalia’s ribbing, she knows that Thalia doesn’t really care either. It’s just that, you know, he’s Thalia’s family, and they’ve seen each other a few more times, and they are planning to continue to see each other a few more times in the future. Or more than a few times. 

Anyway, she kind of feels like she owes it to him. Like he deserves this small nugget of truth, payment for all the times he’s fucked her blind. It’s nagging at her, and she hates feeling like she owes anyone anything. 

Piper certainly seemed to think so, when Annabeth had told her over their monthly brunch date.

“It’s just common courtesy at this point,” she said. “Like, what if you guys end up married and then sell your story to Hollywood, they cast my dad as the male lead, and it comes out in interviews that you didn’t know his name for like a month? He’s gonna get the wrong idea.”

Annabeth wasn’t sure which part was more ridiculous: the movie, Piper’s dad being involved, or them being married.

Anyway, sharing some of her avocado fries, Piper had reminded her that being mean wasn't very punk rock, shutting her up effectively.

She’s out on site in the Lower East Side, taking measurements for plots of land, writing down sun angles and measuring the wind velocity between the brick buildings, when she gets a text from him. 

I’m on a break and I’m starving 😩 Want to grab something to eat?

It’s 2pm on a Thursday and he wants to grab something to eat. If Annabeth didn’t know any better, she’d say that that sounds like a real, honest-to-goodness, bona fide date. (Meeting up at and subsequently leaving bars together does not count as a date, she’s pretty sure. Neither do the booty calls.) He’s been getting a little free with his texts, that boy, sending her selfies and memes and questions about her day, and now this? An invitation to their first, actual date? She should block him on principle, just for the sheer audacity.

sure, wya

520 8th, text me when you get here 😁

That’s another thing: Percy loves his emojis. If this is going to continue, they’re going to need to have a serious talk about that. 

She doesn’t need to text him when she gets there; he’s already outside, leaning on the stone edifice of the building like a particularly jacked rent boy in his tight t-shirt and broody look, cigarette between his fingers. The sweatpants sort of ruin the image, though. He looks particularly comfortable in a way that warms Annabeth right from the inside out. “You know, when Nico said you smoked, I honestly didn’t believe it.” she says, not even bothering to say hi. 

He looks up from his phone and smiles, the sun behind his teeth. “Hey!” 

“Hey, yourself.” She doesn’t even hesitate--she plucks the cigarette out of his hand, taking a drag off it herself. “You been smoking for a long time?”

“Who do you think taught Thalia how?” He raises an eyebrow, bemused. “Is that a problem?”

It is, but it’s not like she can tell him that without losing some of her credibility. “Wouldn’t smoking fuck with your cardio?”

Percy shrugs, conceding. “A little. I used to be a lot worse, but I just can’t quite kick the habit. It’s mostly a stress thing, anyway.” 

“Rough practice?” she asks, putting just enough effort into her lip wobble to make it abundantly clear that she’s making fun of him. “Were the other boys being mean to you because of your tights?”

He grins at her, saucy. “Annabeth Chase, do you really think that NYCB rehearses here? In the Garment District?” But he laughs before she can stammer out an answer (and thank God, she’s lived here three years and can barely keep the boroughs straight, let alone the neighborhoods). “I just wrapped up teaching a class. I don’t have to be at rehearsal until 5, I was thinking we could hang out? Bryant Park?”

A first date at the New York Public Library. She almost hates to admit it, but Percy Jackson might be kind of her dream man. “I believe I was promised food,” she sniffs, but she does hold out her hand, and when he takes it, lacing his fingers through hers, she’s sure that he can feel her heart beating, palm to palm. 

Twenty minutes later they’re settled on a bench in the corner of the green, Annabeth halfway into a ham sandwich and Percy juggling a salad and an iced coffee. He’s been regaling her with tales from the more exciting side of ballet, a side she hadn’t even imagined could actually exist. “So by the time I land in Paris,” he says, taking a sip of coffee, “the guy’s foot has swollen up to, like, twice its original size, and when I finally managed to find some wifi to check my phone, there’s, like, eight missed calls from my mom and my agent, and an email from her that just says ‘READ THIS,’ in all caps, and of course the article is in French, which I didn’t really speak at the time, and I was so stressed that my ADHD made it so I couldn’t even read the Google translation, and I had to ask someone to translate it for me.”

“Oh my god,” she says, struggling to keep it in.

“And that’s how I found out that I’d been moved up to first cast in Le Corsaire, from the poor barista at a coffee shop in Charles de Gaule!” He laughs. 

“That’s insane,” Annabeth says. “And the show was the next day?”

“It was that night! I had to haul ass to the opera house and get warmed up, because I was going on in about four hours. You should have seen the looks on everyone’s faces when I stumbled in, I’m sure that they all wanted to kill me.” Percy chuckles, taking a bite of leafy greens. “Now I wasn’t just the twenty-year-old upstart American, I was the twenty-year-old upstart American who skipped town when I wasn’t supposed to.”

“How did it go?”

“Killed it, of course,” he says, deservedly smug. 

Despite her best efforts, she’s absolutely entranced; he’s a great storyteller. “I bet you break that story out at parties all the time, don’t you.”

He laughs. “Whatever gets the donors to open their checkbooks, right?”

“I can’t believe you lived in Paris. I’ve always wanted to see it.” She’d had a few chances to when she was in college, the semester she’d studied abroad in Rome, but she just never got around to it. Just another item on her long, long list of regrets, placed somewhere between the sketchy burrito from last week and not telling her mom to fuck off earlier when she’d had the chance. “If I were you, I’d never leave.”

Percy shrugs. “It was amazing, I won’t lie. But towards the end I just really, really missed it here. All my family is in NYC, you know? My mom, step-dad, and my sister live here, and Thalia and Nico and Hazel, too. I tried to come back and visit whenever I could, but being away from them was really hard.” There’s something soft and inviting in his expression when he says, “I’m really happy to be back home.”

“What are they like?” Annabeth asks. “Your family. Your non-mob family, I mean.”

He rolls his eyes, but he grins another one of those blinding grins, too. “My mom is the most amazing person you will ever meet. Not only did she support my dance habit, she did it as a single working mother who had to raise an angry, ADHD asshole of a son who didn’t always appreciate her. I don’t even want to know how many hours she had to work or how many scholarships and grants she had to track down in order to pay for me to go to SAB, but somehow she made it work, and managed to write her novel at the same time. She married my step-dad the summer I turned sixteen, and my baby sister was born the next year.” 

Even Annabeth, cynical and black-hearted as she is, has to smile back. The love he has for his mom is so palpable, so tangible, she can practically see him glowing. “And the…” What had Thalia called them? “The ‘Cousin Consortium’?” 

At that, Percy laughs, full-bellied, unrestrained. “The name was Nico’s idea. I didn’t really have many close friends when I was a kid, apart from my buddy Grover--he had to wear this really gnarly leg brace and I liked to dance, so you can imagine how much we got picked on--but we were all really close growing up, since our dads were all assholes. They may have left us emotionally scarred, but at least we had each other’s backs the whole time.”

This is a very Percy thing, she’s starting to realize: he can not and will not hold back on his feelings. He simply refuses to. Where most guys might try to hide or downplay their affection for their friends, Percy’s is written all over his face. Maybe it’s a byproduct of doing ballet, but he’s so unashamed of his love for his friends and his family and his art, that maybe Annabeth kind of wishes she could be included in that love too, if it always feels this warm and joyful. 

“I think it’s amazing that you guys are so close. I only had the one cousin when I was growing up, and we didn’t really talk all that much,” Annabeth says, almost without her permission. Something about him, it’s just so easy to talk to him. He makes it safe to open up.

“The med school guy, right?” 

Annabeth nods. “Magnus. Fifth generation Harvard student. We’re all very proud.” 

Ugh. Even she has to wince at the false cheer in her voice. Percy gives her a half-smile, sympathetic and soft. “Harvard not really for you, then?” he asks, picking up the threads of a long and complicated story, and one that she absolutely does not want to get into right now. Or ever, if she can help it. 

“More like I wasn’t really for Harvard.” Which wasn’t entirely untrue. She had been good enough for the university in Cambridge, Mass--good enough for two degrees and graduation with honors--but she had never been good enough for her mother’s capital-H Harvard. Never good enough for her mother at all, really. 

Percy takes her hand. His fingers are cold from his iced coffee. “Hey. It’s their loss,” he says, with a sincerity and an intensity that makes her blush.

Every part of her wants to pull away. His thumb is rubbing against the joint of her finger, soothing and sweet, and she thinks she may break out in hives from it. “Damn right it is,” she mumbles. 

He is so nice. So nice and hot and sweet. Objectively, what she’s about to do is a terrible idea, and might torpedo a really good thing that they have, but if she doesn’t come clean now her own guilt is going to drive her insane.

“Okay, I have a confession to make.” Percy raises his eyebrows, slurping the last dregs of his drink. “When we met… and then when we hooked up the first time… I may have… thoughtyouwereJason.”

He blinks. “Pardon?” he asks, mumbled around the straw.

Annabeth buries her head in her hands. “Please don’t make me say it again.”

“You… thought I was Jason?”

“Well,” she sputters, glaring at him through her fingers, “you were being all bro-y with Thalia!”

He is valiantly trying to hold in a smile. “You know, I distinctly remember telling you my name that morning.”

“I was really hungover,” she whines, “and you were shirtless and making breakfast so I wasn’t really… paying attention.”

“For a whole week?”

This is so embarrassing, why couldn’t she just keep her stupid mouth shut? “Yeah.” She slumps her shoulders, stuffing her hands into her jacket pocket. “Sorry.”

She’s not entirely sure what she expected: at best a couple of weird looks and a tentative promise to meet up later that would end up not working out, at worst she thinks he’ll just get up and leave her here at Bryant Park. Either way, they’d be doomed to months of awkward interactions, until eventually they wouldn’t be able to be around each other, and Thalia would have to pick a side--and Annabeth’s seen what Thalia does to people who cross her family. She’s seen Thalia beat a dude to pulp for calling Nico the f-slur. Picking Percy over Annabeth? That’s nothing.

So when he starts laughing, Annabeth is completely at a loss. Slowly, at first, then all at once, he’s laughing so hard his shoulders are shaking, and he has to put down his salad so it doesn’t topple over onto the grass. His head is tilted back in joy, the grey, late afternoon light adamant that Annabeth can see all of his features clearly, from his screwed up eyes to his bright, white teeth to the single dimple in his cheek.

Of course, even his laughter is hot. Asshole. 

“You thought I was Jason!” He shrieks.

Annabeth crosses her arms, scowling. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I really don’t mean to laugh,” he giggles. Annabeth can feel her own giggle rising in response, and she ruthlessly quashes it. “I can definitely say I’ve never heard that one before. You do know Jason is blond, right?”

“As a matter of fact, I did not. Besides, you and Thalia look exactly alike.”

He scoffs. “No we don’t.”

“Uh, yeah you do. You, Thalia, and Nico are all basically clones of each other.” 

“Okay, Captain Glasses, whatever you say.” He rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat behind it.

“I’m sorry,” Annabeth feels like she has to say again.

He cocks his head. “For what? For thinking I was Jason? He’s a pretty cool guy.”

“No, for,” she blushes again. All this blood rushing to her head can’t be good for her. “For sleeping with you when I still thought you were Jason.”

Percy scoots closer to her, throwing her a grin and slinging his arm over her shoulders. Without even realizing that she’s doing it, she settles in beside him like she’s been doing it her whole life, slotted up against his torso, tucking her booted feet beneath her legs. “I am choosing to take that as a compliment,” he says, smirking. “You couldn’t resist my charms, even when you thought I was a brogrammer.” 

Annabeth can’t help herself. She kisses him, wiping that smug grin right off his face, and when she finally retreats, after what feels like hours, he looks so dazed she could probably keep calling him by any name she wanted and he wouldn’t even realize it.

After their lunch, they meander for hours, headed in a vaguely southerly direction, holding hands the whole time, a steady, uninterrupted flow that took them all the way from Midtown to Greenwich Village. He tells her about his first day at ballet school; she tells him about her favorite monuments. “There are two architectural environments in America,” she says, ranting, speaking with enough force that she might forget the feeling of his hand in hers, “endless dead suburbia, or cities where every single building is either a concrete or a glass block--and not even Brutalist concrete, just shitty, poorly designed, paint-by-numbers concrete. It is an absolute travesty of modern government that they don’t fund any public works projects anymore.”

“That’s why all the gardens and stuff?” he asks.

“Nowadays everything is built by the lowest bidder. At least I get to add some beauty back into the city.”

“I know what you mean,” Percy says. “Paris is practically overflowing with public works, you almost forget about it sometimes.”

She sighs. “You’re so fucking lucky. Paris is so beautiful and everything in New York is just hideous.”

“Aw, come on,” he says. “Not everything. What about the Empire State Building, or Central Park?”

“Well, obviously, those,” she says, just a teensy bit flustered, but she’s not about to give up the argument without a fight. “I just mean like, normal, every day buildings: offices and apartments and stuff. It’s all so samey and boring.”

He looks to her right, pointing at the building they are passing. “What about this one?”

She turns.

If she had known they were headed this way, she never would have taken them past here.

“It’s… okay, I guess,” she mumbles, staring up at the arched windows, pedimented doors, and Rococo details of Miss Minerva’s Private Pre-College Prep School. A shudder goes down her spine, like someone walking over her grave. “There are better Beaux-Arts buildings.”

Sensing her discomfort, he picks up the pace, and changes the subject.

Finally, he stops outside a nondescript building, turning to face her. “This is me,” he says, a little bit mournfully, squeezing her hand. “Are you okay to get home safely?”

This man is ridiculous; it’s not even dark out. “I think I can manage a few blocks,” she says, lightly swatting him. “Isn’t it kind of early for you, though? It’s only four o’clock.”

He flushes faintly, one hand coming up to rub at his neck. “Uh, well, I always give myself a little extra time--you know, time blindness and everything.”

“You baked in extra time in case I wanted you to walk me home, didn’t you?” She mock-gasps, secretly delighted. “Scandal!”

“Guilty,” he grins. “You’ve been to mine so many times, I was curious.”

She just barely stops herself from laughing out loud at the very idea of Percy coming to her apartment--as if. Thalia hasn’t even been to her apartment. Nobody knows where she lives, none of her neighbors know who she is, and this is entirely by design. “Cut me some slack; a girl’s gotta have some mystery. Can’t make it too easy for you, can I?”

“I have a feeling you’ll never make things easy for me,” he says, white teeth gleaming.

“You better believe it,” she smiles back. “Now that I’ve foiled your plans, are you going to be too bored?”

“Oh, I’ll think of something,” he shrugs. “I’m very resourceful when it comes to boredom.”

Inspiration strikes, and she grasps his hand, pulling him down the alleyway. She almost hates to admit it, but she has something of a Pavlovian response when it comes to hanging out with Percy. Annabeth has come to expect some really excellent sex whenever the two of them meet up, and maybe spending all afternoon with him has made her a little bit horny. 

She presses him up against the brick wall, hidden from the street by the long afternoon shadows, and kisses him. His hands flounder for a second, before coming up to rest on her shoulders, this thumbs tapping against the base of her neck, fingers fluttering on her jacket. It’s an intimate touch, kind of chaste and very respectful, and he holds her with precision and grace. He wouldn’t do anything she wouldn’t want to. This is a date with no expectation of sex on his part. But Annabeth does not want grace right now, spooked by the ghost of her old school. She does not want precision. She just wants him. She just wants to keep him on his toes, keep him interested, blow his mind a little. 

She just wants to blow him, to be honest. 

He squeaks into her mouth as her hands fly to his belt, deft fingers practically ripping it off of him in an increasingly familiar motion. “H-hey,” he says, squeezing her shoulders, “this is--”

“Do you not want me to?” she asks, one hand playing at the top line of his underwear. 

“No--I mean, are you sure? I’m-I’m okay with this, I just want to--”

“I know.” She kisses his cheek, then drops to her knees. “But we’ve got some time to kill, don’t we.” 

Afterwards, when she’s finished with him, Annabeth wipes her mouth, and he whimpers. 

“Ho… holy shit,” he pants, flushed and trembling. 

She tucks him back into his boxers, doing up his fly. “There we go. That was better than being bored, right?”

He nods wordlessly, swallowing, shaking. His eyes are glassy and glazed, stupid like he’s just shot out his brain through his dick.

In the short time they’ve been together (though, honestly, this might be the longest relationship she’s ever been in before… and they haven’t even broached the “dating” conversation yet) Annabeth has been on the receiving end of several different Percy looks. His face will light up with joy when he first lays his eyes on her, so happy to see her (though she can’t really fathom why), glinting like the sun on the water. His eyes will narrow, glaring, even as he furiously tamps down on his growing smile when they start arguing over something stupid, like Annabeth’s affinity for olives. He’ll grin at her, knife sharp and slanted, licking his lips and looming over her after she comes down from yet another orgasm via his mouth or his hands.

Percy looks at her now like someone took a bat to his head, and instead of seeing stars, he sees little miniature Annabeths flying around. 

He pulls her to him and kisses her, entirely too sweet for what she’s just done to him, but that is also a very Percy thing. And when she leaves him with a final kiss on his cheek and squeeze of his ass, she can feel that look burning a hole through her jacket, following her down the alley and around the corner, and she finds that she doesn’t mind the weight of it at all.

[thiscrimsonsoul]

{out of paprikash} Sorry, guys... HUGE mood drop tonight. Below the cut if you want to know why, but... yeah. I’m hoping that once I start answering asks and things I’ll slowly pull out of it and be up to working on drafts, but I’m not making a lot of promises. I’m just so frustrated and tired. I will at least get the asks people sent in done, that I can promise.

I’ve been on a waiting list to get a vaccine for 8 weeks now. I’m immunocompromised, but apparently not enough for my state to care, so I’m considered to not be in any category that needs the vaccine soon. So I’ve just been waiting. My 70 year-old father just got his second shot, and my 90 year-old grandmother will get her second shot soon, but I haven’t even gotten my first. They’re starting to go out and do more things and enjoy some pre-pandemic niceties, but I’m still holed up in the house like I have been for a year, only going out for doctor’s appointments, to go to the supermarket, or to pick up prescriptions. Being overwhelmingly sad, bored, and hopeless every day just seems to be my new normal now. It hurts to be left out of things they’re doing, but with the meds I’m on, I’m at higher risk to get lots of things, including covid.

What’s really annoying is that my grandmother doesn’t care at all to be careful about not bringing covid home to me and my dad. We told her she couldn’t get a haircut when all the salons were closed, but she wanted one anyway, so she left the house, walked down to someone we didn’t even know, went in this person’s house without a mask, and had her cut her hair. Then came home and was so proud that she did it, throwing it in my face like see I got it done anyway even though you tried to prevent me from doing it. She also then told me the woman wasn’t feeling well and “had a cold or something.” I was livid, and I let her know it. I told her she could kill me if she gave me covid right now. Her response? *shrug* “Oh well.” I was like no, not oh well, take this seriously, wtf?! She then went on about what a nice job the woman did and how happy she was to “get my haircut finally.” I was like “yeah, grandma, I guess that’s worth me dying over.” She laughed. LAUGHED. And she doesn’t even have her second shot yet, and today she told me she went out and talked to some people and pet their dogs. All things we’ve told her she is absolutely not to do. She waits until we’re not home and then goes out and does all the things we’ve told her not to do. Basically she’s told me that I’m not to tell her what to do, and that she’s going to do what she wants because she’s 90 and entitled to do whatever she wants. *throws up hands* I don’t feel safe with her living here, but there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s my dad’s house and his decision, and I can’t afford to move out.

I became eligible for the vaccine a week ago and have been waiting to be contacted and told that I’m allowed to finally make an appointment. Now, when my dad and grandmother were contacted, it was super easy for them. They had their pick of sites and vaccines, and were able to conveniently go to a site that is within walking distance of our house. Welp. I got my email today, and that site was not available. Nor were any sites close by. I’m in the high risk group for the J&J vaccine, so I don’t want that one, and my grandmother and dad got the Pfizer-Biontech one and haven’t had any side effects, so I really want that one. Well... if I want to get that one, the closest place they were letting me make an appointment was 67 miles away. Basically an hour drive. The rest of the sites were maybe 20 or 30 minutes away and were offering the Moderna vaccine, but they were limiting it to local residents only, so I couldn’t even sign up for those. My choices are... to drive two hours round trip, which I can’t really do right now because I have a chronic illness that causes me a lot of pain in my legs, or to continue to just wait and hope for this list of places to change. I don’t even know if it will.

I just kindof lost my shit a little. Had a good cry. My dad only had to wait four weeks for his first shot. My grandmother? Two weeks. From the time they signed up. I’ve been waiting 8 weeks, and I still can’t even go because I’m not being offered the same options they were. Why am I not being given the same opportunities that they were? I would just say well maybe that super close site ran out, but it’s mega-vac site run by the National Guard. It’s huge! They have plenty of vaccine. So wtf. And if you go to their site, it says there are appointments available, yet when you click on the link, all it does is give you a form and then tell you you’re on the same list I’ve already been on for 8 weeks. That’s not what happened for the rest of my family and I’m just feeling very excluded and left behind. My family is starting to put the pandemic behind them and I can’t do the same. They’re moving on without me. I don’t blame them for that, I’m happy they’re vaccinated, but it still doesn’t feel good.

I know I shouldn’t feel this way and it kindof makes me a bad person to complain at all, especially given that there are a lot of people in the world who don’t have access to the vaccine at all, but it’s hard when it’s been a solid year of depression and being in the house (not that I wasn’t depressed before... it’s always been a struggle for me), since my place of work will not even permit me to physically go to work until I’m vaccinated, and the rest of the family is happy and relived that they’re protected and going out and doing things and I’m just sitting at home... waving goodbye... telling them I hope they have a nice day. It hurts. Every day I have to double-mask when I go out, wearing an n95 and then a cloth one over it, because if I get covid I could die. And today in the supermarket I almost passed out because it was a really humid day and I legit couldn’t breathe. But I have to do it. Because no vaccine. I went to pick up food today, because for some reason that’s still my job even though I’m the only one not vaccinated, and the restaurant made me stand right by the door as all these unmasked people walked by. One guy coughed right in my face and I almost had a panic attack right there. And I’m frustrated. And so, so tired of this pandemic.

So... I’m deciding to wait and hope that a closer appointment that I’m eligible for becomes available rather than drive two hours. For now. Maybe at some point I’ll just decide to do the trip and take a lot of meds and frequent breaks while driving and hope for the best, but right now I’m hoping something else opens up soon. If you’ve read this far, I’m really sorry for wasting your time with this rant, but also thank you for caring enough to read it. 

[moodstabilizers]

tw for ED & dr/gs (i need to yell into the void)

i’ve been sick for almost 3 weeks now (personal issues, no i don’t have covid) and the doctors put me on antibiotics but i didn’t get better and the meds side effects were making everything so much worse. i spent all of friday in the ER just to be told that the antibiotics caused a whole ass other infection and now i have to treat both. i’ve been in bed for weeks with extreme pain, nausea & vomiting and feel like i’m in hell. not being able to do things and go places is making me feel so alone, now i’m not only fighting physical health but my brain is working against me and leading into dark depression. it’s causing me to isolate myself even more and it’s so hard to reach out and communicate. when people ask if i’m feeling better, i brush it off and tell them the bare minimum.

the meds made me so nauseous that it was hard to eat & when i did, it didn’t stay down anyways. i lost quite a bit of weight in a short amount of time, this has caused me to relapse into my ED. i’ve struggled on and off with it for years now - i was in treatment for 3 months in 2018 and since then it’s been a roller coaster. usually i manage to pull myself out of it pretty easily but right now with everything going on i don’t know how easy i can pick myself back up this time.

i’ve been struggling with a meth addiction for about 2 years now, also on and off. i was on it pretty hardcore from about september to march. since march i’ve had a few slip ups but again, managed to get myself out easily before it went too far. it’s been a few weeks without it now. with my depression and ED, it all goes hand in hand with the drug, and with all of everything crashing around me i want nothing more than to run right back into the arms of the high.

all of my physical and mental pain has made everything extremely difficult enough, but now i’m having relationship problems due to the strain of my well-being. i get irritated, causing me to lash out in an aggressive tone that upsets him. even when i try to fix it, i seem to make things worse. i’m scared that i’m being nothing but toxic and that he’s better off without me. i feel like i’m a ball of fire walking on thin ice. i make a wrong move, the ice cracks and swallows me under. i stand still, the fire inside me spreads to my toes and melts the ice, pulling me under the water. it’s hard for me to explain this to him due to my self isolation, but saying nothing also does damage. i feel stuck.

i don’t expect a whole lot of people to read this or to understand, or even care. but i feel like everything is crumbling around me and there’s not shit i can do about it, as i’m on bed rest for a while longer. being stuck in bed, in my own thoughts and doubts for this long and having to do so for longer now, is taking a giant toll on me and i’m exhausted inside and out. i’m just hoping i can reach someone, anyone, to give even a slight bit of support.

i don’t want to talk about these things to my friends or my parents, it’s even hard to with my partner. reason is because they don’t understand any of it, they’ve never struggled with these things. i know it makes me feel better to get it out, and to let them have this understanding of what i’m going through, but because they don’t know from their own point of view they don’t know what to do about it. every time i’ve reached out to them about these things, they respond with the same things. it’s always some lecture, how i don’t deserve to do drugs, i deserve to eat, people love me and care about me so i shouldn’t feel alone, etc etc.

i don’t want their input. i don’t want my feelings invalidated - i KNOW i shouldn’t be feeling this way but the fact is that i do and all i want is someone to listen. i don’t want someone to listen to respond. i want someone to listen to understand. that’s why i made a giant post, spilling my guts to strangers on tumblr. i’d rather someone read this whole post and not say anything to me, just continue scrolling, than to open up to someone just to be told what i shouldn’t be doing. i’ve even been writing in my journal to get my feelings out, but that’s only helping in that aspect. no one reads it, i’m wanting to speak on my feelings for an audience, no matter how small.

if you read this, thank you for taking your time. like i said, i don’t expect replies or messages. i especially don’t want a lecture and i’m not necessarily seeking advice (unless you relate to any of this hardcore and have something that may actually help.) but a few kind words or encouragement can go a long way. it helps me not feel so alone.

i love you guys.

[bisexualbuck]

To Be Loved, To Belong

Day One of the Evan Buckley Week 2020! The prompt was “That’s my family” + fluff

Summary: 5 times Buck almost tells his family what they mean to him.

+1 time he does.

[Read on AO3]

(Full text under read more)

1. Maddie

Buck will never blame Maddie for cutting contact with him while she was under Doug’s hold. Anytime she tries to bring it up and apologize, he tells her he knows it’s not her fault.

Because it isn’t. It has never been and it never will be.

He is only glad that she is free of that abusive relationship and that she is making a new life for herself. Every time they see each other, he feels the same endless pride for his sister who survived, who made it out, by herself.

Having her in his life again after so long is something he will never tire of. Growing up with such an age difference could have prevented them from being as close as they are, but the way they were raised made sure that they did.

Something that Buck can say, is that Maddie raised him more than their parents ever did. He is so thankful for her, although he would never tell it to her face, unless in very exceptional circumstances. She is still his sister and it’s his obligation to annoy her as much as humanly possible.

He smiles at the sight of Maddie laughing with Hen and Athena. He loves these moments, with all of the people he cares about, together in the same place.

Maddie has made herself a place in this group of people effortlessly, and sometimes it feels like she has always been a part of their little family.

Family.

Yes, this is a family. His family.

The thought is so sudden that it makes him want to weep.

All his life, that’s what he has longed for. A family. To be loved. To belong.

Growing up, it was only him and Maddie, with their parents around, not invested. A family by blood but not by love. It had been enough for the two siblings, because they had no other choice.

But now, Buck isn’t as alone anymore.

He has a family and he can share it with his sister.

They have made it. They have built themselves a true family, a family that they have chosen and that stays and that loves, not because they feel an obligation to, but because the choose to.

Every day these people make the conscious decision to love one another and to be there for each other.

Buck has never thought that he could have that, and now he has.

He is so happy he could cry.

“Earth to Evan.” It’s Maddie. He didn’t even notice her until she spoke, too deep in thoughts. “What’s got you looking so thoughtful? That’s never a good thing.”

It’s you, he wants to say. It’s this family that we’ve made.

We’ve made it, Mads, he wants to say. We’re not alone anymore.

This is our family.

Instead, he smiles and says, “Nothing. I’m just happy.”

“Oh, Evan,” she hugs him, and he thinks maybe she has heard the words he could not find. “I’m happy too.”

He knows she is. It’s like he can finally be at peace, knowing that his sister is safe and loved like she deserves to be.

.

2. Hen

Hen opens the door seconds before the bell has even finished ringing.

“Thanks for coming on your day off like that. I owe you one big time.”

Buck shakes his head, offering a smile. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Her face is soft as she looks at him, and he almost squirms under her gaze. He is getting better at accepting open testimony of affection but he is still not quite there yet. Some part of him might always be waiting for the other shoe to drop, for people to leave him.

“Still,” she says. “Thank you. Our sitter called sick last minute and Karen and I both need to be present for the meeting.”

“Hen,” Buck cuts, gently. “It’s fine. You know I love the little dude. I’m just gonna help Denny with his homework, as you asked, and maybe we’ll watch a movie if we have time. It’s all fine.”

Karen chooses that moment to arrive, holding Nia in her arms. She rushes to Buck’s side and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek.

He takes the chance to pull a face at Nia, and is proud to make her giggle. He laughs too, and continues playing with her for a few seconds, only stopping because he knows that Karen and Hen have to get going.

“She’s so cute, guys. I’m so glad for you.”

“You’re too sweet, Buck,” she says and he blushes. Karen has always intimidated him but she is also kind and loving, and like every vaguely parental figure in his life, he craves her approval. “We’ve left some cash for dinner in case we run too late.”

She bids him goodbye after one last reminder that Denny needs to study for a coming history test.

Hen stills at the door, Nia’s diaper bag in her hands. She gives Buck one more thankful look and he wants nothing more but for it to stop because he has never known what to do when he’s being thanked.

Especially since he has no problem helping out. Denny is a good kid, as smart and kind as his mothers. It really is no trouble spending one afternoon with him.

“How can I thank you, Buck?” Hen asks.

You’re family, he wants to say. You never have to thank me.

“Go to your meeting,” he says instead. “We’ll be fine.”

She is gone with one last smile, and Buck spends a great afternoon with a great kid, his heart full of love for this family that he belongs to.

And when Hen and Karen come back with Nia, Buck stays for dinner, grateful to share the moment with them, grateful for them.

That night, he falls asleep with a smile on his face.

.

3. Chimney

“Could you at least try not to end up in the hospital so often?”

“Like you can talk, Mister I-Spit-In-Death’s-Face-On-The-Regular,” Buck shots back easily, glad that the effects of the anesthesia have worn off. “The hospital’s given you a loyalty card yet?”

Chimney laughs the comment off and he comes to sit next to Buck’s hospital bed, choosing instead to punch him lightly in the shoulders. He is carrying a bag that smells like delicious Indian food.

“Here,” Chim says. “Hospital food sucks.”

“Thank you, man,” he breathes out as he takes the plate Chim is holding out to him. “I owe you my entire life.”

“No, thanks, I’m not interested.”

If Buck wasn’t too busy wolfing down his meal, he would have found something to retort. He has not eaten in hours, ever since he woke up this morning, feeling like hell. He had driven himself to the ER – which Bobby gave him a earful for on the phone when he found out – where the doctors told him what he had already guessed.

His appendix was inflamed, and he needed to be operated.

It’s a small operation and he would not even spend the night at the hospital. In fact, Chimney is here to pick him up as Buck will be discharged soon enough.

“How are you feeling?” Chim asks when Buck is done with his food.

“Honestly, I’m fine,” Buck replies and he puts his hand on his belly. “It’s nothing. I’ll be back to work in no time. You won’t even have time to miss me too much, baby.”

He gives Chimney an exaggerated wink and – okay, maybe he is still feeling a little bit the anesthesia.

“Baby?” Chim laughs. “You’re the worst. Why the hell do I even keep you around.”

“Well, we work together and you’re basically my brother-in-law at this point, so it’s not like you have choice.”

Chim gives him a long look, amused but Buck can also read tenderness in it.

“Sure,” he says at last. “The fact that I’m dating your sister is definitely the only reason I’d come to see you in the hospital on my day off. It’s not like you’re my friend or anything.”

Buck blames the meds again for the way his eyes feel not as dry as they ought to be.

He almost says it, then.

You’re my family, whether you’re dating my sister or not.

Thank you for coming two hours before they release me to keep me company.

He doesn’t say it.

“You have great taste in friends then,” he jokes instead and neither mention how is voice sounds a little too wet.

“That’s debatable, Buck.”

Chimney stays until Buck is released, and he stays some more when he drops Buck off at his place. He stays until Buck’s showered and tucked in bed, though he makes sure to tease him the whole time.

Buck feels like he will never get used to people so openly caring about him.

He hopes it never stops.

.

4. Bobby & Athena

Bobby’s face lights up as he notices Athena coming up the stairs, and he hurries to drop the towel he has been using to dry the dishes. Buck snorts and picks it up to finish cleaning up, Bobby cooked for the team anyway, he should not have been helping out Buck in the first place.

“Hello, Buckaroo,” Athena calls when she sees him, and he beams at her in return.

“Hey.” He puts down the last plate and turns fully towards the couple. “ You’re having a good day? Cap’ made cookies so my day is going great.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” she jokes.

Bobby pretends to look hurt but the glint in his eyes betrays him, “I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that.”

Buck is suddenly hit by the image of Bobby, more than two years ago, breaking down as he asked for help.

To see him smiling, joking with his wife, warms Buck’s heart with more emotion than he could voice. Both Bobby and Athena have been through so much and they found one another and built themselves up, they have become each other’s pillar of strength.

He admires them so much – loves them dearly, and he is bursting with the need to say it.

I love you two like you’re my actual parents.

You’re the family I’ve searched for my whole life.

Buck swallows it all down. Maybe one day, he will find the courage to say it out loud.

“I’m not sure there’ll be any cookies left though,” Bobby says with a sorry smile. “I didn’t know you were gonna drop by. I would have kept you a few otherwise.”

“It’s fine,” Athena assures. “This wasn’t planned, I was just close-by.”

“You can have mine,” Buck blurts out. “I’ve kept a few for later but I’ve already had too much anyway.”

“Oh, Buckaroo,” she says, looking sincerely touched. “Aren’t you the sweetest?”

He blushes and ducks his head. She laughs at him, gentle, and pinches his cheek.

If, at the beginning, someone had told him that he would hold Athena in such high esteem, he would have laughed. They did have a rocky start, but he is glad that they are past that now.

She goes to get the cookies he has set asides, he expects Bobby to follow suit but he stays behind, giving him a pointed look, not saying anything at all.

“What?” Buck breaks.

“I know you haven’t had any cookies, Buck.”

It’s true. Since it was his turn to do the dishes, he kept his for afterwards. He shrugs, not knowing what to say.

“You’re a good man.”

Buck feels warm with the praise but his first reflex, as always, is to dismiss it.

“It’s just cookies,” he says.

“I’ll make another batch tomorrow,” Bobby promises, a soft proud smile on his lips.

“You don’t have to – ”

“I know.”

With that, Bobby goes to his wife, and Buck feels right at home, in his station, surrounded by his family.

.

5. Eddie & Christopher

Buck jumps at every chance he has to spend time with Eddie and Christopher. He feels bad about it at times, like he shouldn’t intrude so much.

The one time Buck tried to bring it up to Eddie, the only answer he received was a heavy stare and a promise of, “You could never intrude, Buck.”

He has to remind himself those words whenever he feels like he should leave, let the two spend a day just together. But it’s so hard, and he is to selfish.

And he loves them so much.

It’s so easy to be with them too, they welcome him into their family with opened arms, and he can’t help but feel complete with them, like this is what he has been searching for, and now that he has them in his life, he does not have to look anymore.

He loves them. And he knows they love him, but he still worries that he doesn’t mean as much to them as they do to him.

“Are you okay, Buck?” Christopher asks him and Buck jolts with the knowledge that he has been lost in his thoughts for too long.

Eddie, thankfully, is getting them ice cream and as such has not been able to notice Buck’s slight change in mood. Good, because otherwise he would drill him until Buck gave in and told him about his insecurities.

“I’m good, buddy.”

Christopher is a smart kid, and he is clearly not fooled by Buck’s answer.

“Dad says you should tell people if you’re sad.”

“I’m not sad,” Buck protests. “I’m happy. You make me happy – you and your dad.”

It’s the truth. They make him happy. He smiles at Christopher, the kid that he wishes could be his, the kid he wants to help Eddie raise.

He lets that joy spread through him, warm his body and his soul. He will take whatever he can take, and he will be happy with it.

He already is.

Christopher seems satisfied, he smiles brightly at Buck who can do nothing but to smile back just as brightly.

“What’s got you two so happy?” Eddie asks as he comes back, holding three cups of ice cream. He is smiling too at the sight of his son and his best friend so joyful.

“We just are,” Christopher says – simple as that.

Eddie’s face does something very complicated that Buck can’t follow, his emotions changing fast before settling on a tender, soft expression.

“So am I, then.”

It’s not until Christopher has wandered off a bit, not far enough that they can’t see him, that Eddie brings it up again.

“So what was that about?”

“What was what about?” Buck asks, his gaze locked on Christopher.

How much he loves that kid. Buck wants to be there for him for as long as he lives, if they will let him.

How much he wants. Going back to his flat at night, to its empty rooms and its heavy silence – he hates it. He wants to stay with them, always, he wants to wake up next to Eddie and fix Christopher his breakfast and bring him to school.

He wants. He longs.

“Buck?”

The words are right there and he has to bite his lips to keep them in.

I love you. I’m in love with you.

I love your kid like he’s my own

You’re my family.

I want this, all of it.

“He said it,” Buck says at last. “We’re just happy.”

Eddie gives him a curious look but he does not press.

“You deserve to be.”

“So do you, Eddie.”

“I am.”

Buck breaks the eye contact first, feeling himself blush. Eddie nudges him with his shoulder and they share a laugh as they watch Christopher coming back to them, going as fast as his legs will carry him.

He is happy, truly, and that’s the only thing that matters.

.

+1

It’s all of them again, something that happens both often and yet too rarely.

There’s no particular reason for it, except that they could all make it, and it’s a wonderful sunny day in Los Angeles.

And they all love each other.

Because this is a family, and that’s what families do.

He does not think he could ever get tired of the thought. They are all there, sitting outside in the sun, having finished a great meal, the kids are playing close, their laughter filling up the air.

Every person that he cares about, in the same place, at once. What else could he ever ask for?

He feels a hand on his shoulder. He blinks, getting his head back into the present.

“You’re alright, Buck?” Bobby asks.

He is. He is happy.

He wants to say it, out loud, with pride.

He does not want to fight the urge back anymore. He wants to say these words he has been carrying with him for so long.

Because he has been able to say it to other people but never to them. He owes them the truth.

“I never thought I’d have this.”

Everyone’s attention turns to him, the words blurted out too loudly not to.

“What do you mean?” Athena asks, not unkindly.

He hesitates.

“A family.”

There’s a beat of silence. Buck looks away, but now that he has opened the damn, the words can’t be stopped. They rush out his mouth with desperate precipitation.

“I mean, Maddie and I, we had a family, sort of. Our parents, they’re – well, they’re not great.” He knows he is rambling but he can’t bring himself to stop the inflow of words. “And I thought it was always just gonna be just the two of us, but now like, I look at all of you and it’s just – I know, I tell myself, these people, here, that’s my family. Our family.”

He pauses. “Is that a weird thing to say? I’ve made it weird, right?”

“No, Buck,” Hen reassures from where she’s sitting across from him. “Of course not.”

“And you’re right,” Chim continues. “This is a family.”

If Buck could see himself in a mirror, he would probably be all red, with eyes too shiny.

Some part of him, the part that has always been ready to run, to let people go before they can abandon him, wants to run away from the moment. There is too much emotion all around, too much sympathy in everyone’s gaze as they look at him.

Eddie’s hand finds his under the table and squeezes, and Buck turns to see his boyfriend giving him a loving smile.

“Yeah?” Buck asks, softly.

“Yes.”

Buck looks up, he catches Maddie’s eyes and in them, he reads the same gratitude for these people, for that new chance at a family that they have been given.

Bobby raises his glass.

“To family,” he says.

“To family,” they all echo.

Eddie’s hand in his, his family around him, this is where Buck belongs.

Life has never been so kind.

[yespleasetommyshelby]

Adam Ruzek Song imagine ~ Say you won’t let go James Arthur

(It’s pretty long and I can’t figure out how to put a ‘keep reading’ thingy, also the ending is kinda crap as I wasn’t sure where I was going with this... anyways, enjoy!)

‘I met you in the dark, you lit me up, you made me feel as though, I was enough... We danced the night away, you drank too much, I held your hair back when you were throwing up...’

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked as me and April walked down the cold streets of Chicago, I’d just finished my first shift at Chicago med and she insisted on taking me out to celebrate even though she had work in the morning.

“I can handle myself, but you need to celebrate!” She exclaimed with a grin just as we reached a small-ish bar that sat on the corner of the street. “Welcome to Molly’s!” She grinned as she pushed the door open, the smell of booze hitting me in the face in an instant.

Looking around I saw a few people that I had recogonised from them coming into med in the last few hours, such as Kelly Severide, a lieutenant from firehouse 51 who had come in to see April, speaking of which.

“Hey, you wanna come to the bar?” She grinned as she looked her arm through mine and practically dragged me through the crowd to the bar.

A few minutes later she had disappeared with Kelly leaving me at the bar drinking on my own, until a figure dropped down onto the stool besides me, looking over I spotted a tall guy with slightly blonde/brown hair and a smile that could melt an iceberg, seriously.

“What’s a pretty girl doing all alone?” He asked looking at me briefly before ordering another beer.

“I was with a friend but it seems like I’ve been ditched for a fire fighter.” I laughed slightly looking behind him to where April and Kelly were sat laughing together. “My names y/n y/l/n by the way.” I smirked lifting my drink to my lips.

“Adam Ruzek.” He smirked back, holding his hand out for me to shake.

A couple of hours and multiple drinks later it was fair to say that I was definitely feeling the effects of the drinks, I had spent the last hour ‘dancing’ in the corner with Ruzek, well, I danced and Adam made sure no guys could get to me in my state.

“I don’t feel good.” I muttered as I dropped down into the seat besides Adam, head pounding and the familiar feeling brewing in my stomach. “I need some air.” I muttered quickly pushing myself up and rushing outside before I emptied the contents of my stomach into the trash can outside.

I groaned as I felt a large, warm pair of hands brush over my shoulder, pulling my hair away from my face as I continued to throw up.

“Sorry.” I muttered as I stood up straight and wiped my mouth with my hand before rubbing them on my trousers, gross I know.

“C’mon, let’s get you home.” Adam chuckled slightly, putting his arm around my shoulder.

‘Then you smiled over your shoulder, for a second I was stone-cold sober... I pulled you closer to my chest... And you asked me to stay over, I said I already told ya, I think that you should get some rest...’

“Thank you.” I smiled as I put my key into the lock on my front door, a short walk that took twice as long due to my stumbling and asking stupid questions. Looking over my shoulder I couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted as my eyes met his, a feeling I had never felt or even knew how to describe until now. “You sure you don’t want to stay?” I asked for the thousandth time since we’d left Molly’s, yet everytime I’d get the same answer.

“I’ve told you, get some rest and text me in he morning.” He smiled shaking his head before he stepped foreward and pulled me into his chest, my arms wrapping around his waist while his cane around me completely.

“Are you sure?” I asked looking up at him resting my chin on his chest, laughing as he sarcastically rolled his eyes and looked down at me.

“I’m sure, but text me in the morning so I know you’re alright.” He said kissing the top of my head quickly before pulling away completely.

“Goodbye Adam.” I grinned stupidly as he started to walk away.

“Goodbye y/n.” He smirked looking back quickly before shaking his head and walking away.

‘I knew I loved you then, but you’ll never know, ‘cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go... I know I needed you, but I never showed, I wanna stay with you until we’re grey and old...’

“Ready?” Hank asked as his head appeared from behind the door, smile on his face as he walked into the room adjusting his tie slightly. “You look beautiful, you ready?”

Smiling to myself I looked down at what I was wearing, a long white gown with a heart shaped top, the perfect dress for the perfect wedding to the perfect man.

“Hell yeah I’m ready.” I grinned putting my arm through his, after meeting Adam I got to know the whole team from intelligence, Hank had taken on a father kind of role so it only felt right having him give me away, since my own father had died when I was younger.

I couldn’t hide the smile on my face as I walked down the aisle towards Adam, stood in his suit and tie, Kevin and Jay by his side, all three wearing the biggest smiles I had ever seen. I chuckled slightly as I watched Kev nudge Adam slightly after he wiped a stray tear that had escaped. While I tried to listen to what the priest was saying I had trouble tearing my eyes away from my husband to be, seems like he was having the same trouble as the poor priest had to try a couple of times to get his attention for the vows.

“Y/N, you are the most perfect person I have ever met, and probably ever will. I still remember the first night I met you, I saw you sitting at the bar in Molly’s and with a little liquid encouragment, and a nudge from Kev.” He pauses as he looked behind at Kevin and gave him a small, grateful nod. “I gave it a shot, we spent the night dancing and laughing, I even held your hair while you threw up in a trash can.” He chuckled making me groan as the rest of our guests laughed. “But I knew then, the moment you looked up at me outside your old place, that I wasn’t gunna let you go, there was just something about you that I couldn’t get out of my head for the next few days.” He shook his head slightly, as a lone tear fell down his cheek, his eyes met mine as I reached up and wiped it away trying to keep my own tears in. “I love you, so, so much.”

“I love you too, ever since you didn’t just walk past and leave me to fall into a trash can of my own puke.” I grinned laughing slightly. “You are the one person that I could never see myself without, no matter how I imagine my future you are always there, for better or for worse.” I winked making him laugh. “I’ll love you forever Adam Ruzek, nothing will ever change that.”

“You may now kiss the bride!” The priest announced, wasting no time Adam pulled me towards him and dipped us before he placed his lips on mine, the perfect end to the perfect wedding.

‘I’ll wake you up with some breakfast in bed, I’ll bring you coffee with a kiss on your head... I’ll take the kids to school, wave them goodbye, and I’ll thank my lucky stars for that night...’

*Adam’s POV*

“Alright, on the count of three, ready?” I whispered looking down at the twins, Amelia and Amber, only six years old and their already so much like their mother, kind, caring but with a temper that one day will probably make a grown man cry. “Three... Two... One!” I counted down before I opened the bedroom door, huge grins on their faces as they ran in and started to jump on the bed.

“I’m up! I’m up!” I could hear her laughing as she grabbed onto the twins and pulled them down next to her before she leant over them and their angelic laugh filled my ears as she tickled them.

“Happy birthday!” I grinned as I walked over placing the tray of pancakes and orange juice on the bed side drawers before leaning down and placing my lips to hers, a feeling that after seven years of marriage and nine years together I still haven’t got used to.

“Thank you.” She mumbled kissing me once more before her attention was taken by the twins groaning and putting their hands over their eyes. “Oh shush, you’re gunna be late for school if we don’t get going.” She told them going to get out of bed before I put my hands on her shoulder and pushed her back down.

“I am on it, you finish your breakfast and wait here, I’ll be back.” I winked before rounding up the girls and ushering them downstairs, into their coats and shoes before rushing out the door, barely making it on time.

“Bye daddy!” They both waved as I watched them walk into their school, big smiles on their faces as I waved back.

“Baby?” I called quietly as I got back home, hearing nothing but silence I crept into our shared bedroom and could make a y/n shaped lump under the covers. How did I get so lucky the night I met her..?

‘I’m gunna love you till, my lungs give out... I promise til death we part, like in our vows... So I wrote this song for you, now everybody knows, that it’s just you and me till we’re grey and old... Just say you won’t let go...’

*Y/N POV*

I groaned as I put my key into the lock, a long day at med and all I wanted was to get inside, flip on the couch and eat a ton of ice cream, however as I opened the door I had a feeling that my plans were going to change.

“Happy anniversary.” Adam smiles from his place at the dinner table, candles and rose petals littering the top and creating a path towards him.

“Oh, Adam.” I sighed happily as I watched him stand up and walk over to me, taking my bag from me he dropped it at his feet before he stood behind me and removed my coat as gently as possible.

“Where are the twins?” I asked concerned, there’s no way they’d be okay with going to bed early, especially not on a Friday.

“Hayley and Kim give them for the night, their fine.” He smirked as I realised he’d had this under control.

“I love you so much.” I grinned turning and looking up at him, my arms going round his waist as his rested on my back, just like the day we had met.

“I will love you until my dying breath, I promise you that.” He mumbled resting his chin on top of my head sighing contemptly.

As long as he never let’s go, I’ll die happy...

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #303

“if i can’t be loved, then i’ll be hated”

What color are your glasses, if applicable? Black. Candy corn or conversation hearts? They're both gross, don't make me pick between garbage. Do you own a lot of earrings? Not really after I weeded them out before moving. What did your backpack in high school look like? I dare say I had the dopest backpack of them all. It looked like a massive Ouija board, and the zipper was the planchet (sp?). Have you ever been to a rave? Nah. What is your favorite art medium? I have a particular fondness of oil paintings. They tend to look so smooth, and you can achieve incredible realism with them. How far away is the nearest hospital from you? Not even five minutes, I think. Who was the last person you visited in a hospital? My mom. What is your favorite car color? Pink, duh. How did you learn to type? We actually had a class specifically for typing in middle school. What style of wedding dress do you want? I don't have that set in stone yet, but I really do love ballgown dresses with long trains as well as a-lines with a moderate train. I love a lot, except really for mermaid dresses. Do you fit into any stereotype, or are you non-stereotypical? I don't know if I fit perfectly into any and really don't care. Would you want your first child to have your hair color? ???? I don't care about their hair lol?????? It would depend on the hypothetical father, in which case I'd probably find it cute, but this is so, so unimportant. Do you enjoy writing in cursive? Yeah, it just feels good and flowy to me. What is your favorite hair color? Natural? Probably blonde with natural darker undertones throughout. I like blonde hair because it's far easier to dye, haha. Now, if we're including DYED hair, rose gold or pastel pink is *chefs kiss* What is your favorite eye color? Sapphire blue, probz. Would you put your birthday on a different day if you could? Nah, it's fine where it is. What holiday is your birthday closest to? Valentine's. Do you vent on social media a lot? NOOOOOOOO. I barely post ANYTHING about myself on social media because I feel like I'm being annoying, self-absorbed, find anything I do actually interesting, or don't want people to think I'm a whiner. All I ever really do on social media is share or reblog funny shit, things I love, stuff I find relatable or inspirational, educational, important for whatever reason, etc... Do you have abusive parents? I am very thankful to say no. Is your house haunted? Doesn't seem like it. What's your favorite thing to watch on YouTube? I'm in a real WoW-related phase lately... Watching my favorite streamers, gold farming guides, and other various aspects of the game. What are five health problems that you have? I talk about the mental issues enough, so I guess I'll talk about physical stuff here. Uhhh I have very low blood pressure (it's a med side effect), I have extremely weak legs following muscle atrophy, I have bad tremors, especially in my hands (amplified by medication once again), maybe TMI but we're adults here and it's a legit issue that I have chronic and severe conspitation, aaaand then of course I have hyperhidrosis (excessive sweating) to a fucking outrageous and also humiliating degree. Ooooonce again as a prescription side effect. This answer made meds sound kinda bad, I know, but really, I'd rather have the will to live and just have to deal with these than want to die everyday and not. Do you have surgery coming up? No, let's keep it that way until I lose enough weight and when I am 110% getting loose skin removal. Which family member(s) do you look the most like? My sisters, ig. People say my mom also, but I honestly don't see it. Have you ever cried while watching a YouTube video? Yeah, usually just in let's plays, but it's happened for other reasons. Are you missing a website that just shut down? Nah, none that I know of. NO. FUCKING WAIT. So, when my laptop was fixed, a LOT of shit was wiped from it, and that included all of my goddamn Lightroom editing presets. The site they were from no longer exists, so I had to use a different, pretty sub-par one to install at least a few because it helps me get a start on editing the photograph and leaning towards the "vibe" I want before spending like 15+ minutes tuning it myself. Would you be a barefoot bride? No. Which would you rather name your daughter: Eliana, Echo, Emerald, or Ellery? Ohhh, I like these. I think I prefer "Eliana," but "Echo" is a close second. "Ellery" is nice, but it sounds too much like "celery" to name my kid that lmao. Which would you rather name your son: Maverick, Matthew, or Moses? Ugh, none, honestly. But "Matthew" wins. When was the last time you gave a speech? Like a *legit" speech? Probably not since uhhh... I guess when I argued my disability case at court? Does that even count? Have you ever been in a stampede? Well, never seen this'n in a survey before, so good job, lol. No. If you were a fairy, what color would you like your wings to be? It would depend on what I wore, really. And my hair. But probably light pink. Would you rather name your son Storm, Skylar, Sorin, or Solomon? "Sorin." "Skylar" is SO Southern, and "Solomon" sounds like the creepy kid all his classmates avoid and I ain't putting my kid through that. Did you read a devotional this morning? Not my jam. Would you rather be named Arizona, Alaska, Cali, or Georgia? Hm... "Alaska" is actually kinda cool???? And I'm white as fuck so lol????? I wouldn't mind to nickname of "Ally," anyway. Are you repulsed by ugly reptiles? lololol bro get out Did all your friends know about your first crush or was it a secret? I was definitely secretive and shy about it when I first started getting crushes. Do you ever feel insecure about going out without makeup? I feel insecure either way, so... How many different natural hair colors are there in your immediate family? So, this is a hard question to answer. My mom was born with brown hair, but it darkened to almost black; only her daughter Katie inherited that. By some genetic magic, Dad had blond hair as a kid, but it also turned black. Like... how?????? I was born with dirty blonde hair like him, and mine turned an average brown with age. My immediate sisters have always had brown hair. What is your favorite online game? World of Warcraft is ballin'. Would you ever want to be famous and sign autographs? Ha, the idea of signing autographs is awful... I can't physically write very long without my carpal tunnel flaring up. Do you like your shirt to be loose or tight? LOOSE. Especially as a bigger person, tight shirts are just really uncomfortable. What is your favorite Spanish name? I don't know nearly enough to answer this. Would you rather visit Asia or Europe? I think Asia is, in general, more interesting and prettier as a whole, but I guess I'm drawn to European culture being more like my own and there are specific locations I'm interested in, like Germany or Scotland. So to answer the question, I guess Europe wins. Are there any Asians in your family? I don't believe so. Have you ever had colored braces? Haha yeah, I did that when I had them. Do you take birth control pills? Yes, just for period cramps. Without them, they can be immobilizing for me. If you live in the USA: do you feel free and safe? Ha, no. Well, not *entirely*. Have you ever been sick on your birthday? I was recovering from the stomach virus, if that counts. As in I still got sick the day before and felt iffy on my actual bday. 17th, I think? Is talking about your past painful for you? Yes. Are you a member of any support groups online? I'm a member of The Mighty site, if that counts. When I'm feeling very, very sound of mind and helpful without all the negativity being a detriment to myself, I do like going on there and trying to help or comfort people. Have you ever called a suicide hotline? Yes, and the line was busy, and that's when I decided I was a goner. Do you ever fantasize about revenge? I uhhhhh... sometimes. What's a movie you would recommend to someone who never watches movies? Ohhh, that's hard. I don't really watch movies either, and I'm trying to think of one that essentially anyone would like, so hm. Oh, Coco is absolutely a possibility. That movie touched me so, so deeply and is high on my favorites list. It's impossible to not feel the emotions. Do you want to have grandkids? Hell, I don't want kids. Do you want to be an aunt or uncle? I already am one, and I love being an aunt. Who was your favorite Spice Girl? I don't remember their names or characters in general. Did you make a lot of home videos growing up? I mean *I* didn't, but Mom filmed quite a few. Do you enjoy babysitting? NO. What's an unpopular opinion that you have? Avoiding some political ones, uhhhh. OH. HERE'S ONE. THE SCENE AESTHETIC IS FUCKING CUTE AND NOT CRINGEY AND YOU CAN FIGHT ME ABOUT IT. Are you attracted to the opposite gender, same gender, or both? Both are A+. Was your first crush on someone of the same gender or opposite? Opposite. As a kid, I didn't even fathom the concept that women could date women. What is something you'll never eat again? Why? Brussel sprouts. Fucking disgusting. What is currently happening that is scaring you? Besides the very obvious answer of "Covid," I worry about my mom a lot. She's so weakened after all the chemo and meds and can do literally less than I can without heavily breathing and sweating. I just worry a lot that cancer will return sooner than we hope; I don't want it to EVER come back, but doctors say it is very, very likely at one point or another because she was so very close to Stage 4. What would be your personal hell? Being completely and entirely isolated forever while somewhere hot and humid, lol. And play one of my trigger songs on repeat eternally. What made the "weird kid" at your school weird? There was this poor guy named Alfred that was VERY clearly depressed out of his mind, and I heard him speak maybe once through all of high school, and the entire class couldn't believe it. He always sat way in the back and never smiled. I wonder how he is nowadays. What is a word you personally find offensive? "Retarded" personally offends me the most when misused and spoken as an insult. What instantly puts you to sleep? Now that is HARD to do; I have a ridiculously hard time going to sleep. The easiest way though would probably be me being drained from an emotional breakdown. That is so exhausting that I'm capable of crashing pretty fast and hard. What song is in a language you don't speak, but you love it anyway? I adore Rammstein, so there's plenty. I'll probably say "Donaukinder" is their best. What is something you would like to do if you weren’t judged for doing it? I keep that I RP a complete secret in my "real" life for this reason unless it's like, pried out of me. What's a movie you think everyone should watch? Why that one? Johnny Got His Gun. See how goddamn disgusting war is. What was the most unexpected good thing that's ever happened to you? Ha, realizing I was bisexual after once being homophobic. What is the funniest fact you know? Oh man, I know a lot of random trivia shit, really, so it's hard to say. Maybe that quokkas throw their offspring at predators to distract and escape from them... As awful as that is, c'mon, you gotta admit it's funny and shocking with just how adorable they are. What was your 'mic drop' moment? Oh, I don't know. Possibly when I publicly came out as bi on Facebook and made it abundantly clear that I gave no shits about some homophobic friends and family & I was beyond willing to let anyone's ass go over it. What's the kindest way a stranger has treated you? I remember as a kid at McDonald's, the woman in front of our car paid for our food; apparently seeing a mom, dad, and three kids in a van was enough that she wanted to just be kind and give us a smile. We have no idea who she was, never saw her face or anything, she was just a sweet woman. What is the biggest design flaw of your body? Okay, I'm going to let go of all hatred for my body weight-wise and just think of this as from a strictly natural design perspective, in which case I'd say my toes are too small. What age are you afraid of turning and why? 30, because I'm terrified of getting there and seeing I've possibly gone nowhere. What is the strangest thing you have ever felt? I'm keeping this question in just because I think there could be some interesting answers for others, but I'm witholding my answer because nobody wants or needs to know lmao. What makes someone immediately unlikable? Acting better than others and belittling. Who's a villain you sympathize with and why? D A R K I P L I E R because of his origins and overall purpose and just simply existing. What is something you regret to NOT have done? I have this oddly weird regret of not going like, all-all the way with He Who Shall Not Be Named????? Idk why though????? Considering I loved him way too much and I was a reckless and impulsive person who probably at some point would have wound up accidentally pregs????? What a fuckin trip that woulda been. What movie changed your life for the better? None have really "changed my life." What book you think should be directed as a film? Oh, idk. Most I can think of have been. Of all the decades you've lived in, which one have you liked best? The 2000s, probably. A carefree kid. How are you doing today? I'm exhausted. While out with Mom and my sisters yesterday, we got behind a van whose driver was obviously drunk or high off his goddamn ass, and he was swerving EVERYWHERE, nearly shoving so many cars off the road. Mom called 911 to get in contact with highway patrol to report his dumb fucking ass in. I was having an absolute panic attack and cried quietly like the entire 45 or so minute drive home. I was just so, so upset because this is why I don't fucking drive, and I felt like I'd made my sister (who was driving) mad because she had to firmly tell me I had to calm down (I was hyperventilating and talking to myself to try to calm down) if she was going to focus and keep us safe. She later ensured me she wasn't mad, but I still wasn't the same the entire rest of the day. Anyway, I slept hard last night but had two nightmares, so I'm still really tired today. I'm trying to keep myself really distracted. What's something your relatives don't know about you? A whole lot really, considering beyond my very immediate family, I see almost nobody because they live many states away. What's something your parents did, which you have sworn never to do? Mom would spank us or slap an arm pretty hard if my sisters or I misbehaved or "disrespected" her by "talking back." I'm not having kids, but I would never, ever, ever, put my hands on them in any way that isn't loving. You do not teach children via inflicting fear. I also have this probably overly strong aversion to beer because that's what Dad always drank as an alcoholic. I'll probably never try it, not that I really want to because it smells awful. What's the most annoying thing your pet does? I feel like "annoying" is the wrong word for this, but Roman (my cat) can be incredibly demanding of attention and to lie on me when I'm on the laptop in bed, and sometimes I just want space and be able to clearly see the screen, haha. He will legit meow like a baby and gently swat my arm sometimes if I try to keep him back. Heeee usually gets his way. As for Venus (snek), she does nothing "annoying" either, but rather a bit concerning to a snake mom: she is usually very slow to find and strike her food. I feed her frozen/thawed mice, and she will first slither around her entire cage, tongue flicking and clearly looking for her food, even though I always place it atop the same spot on her hide, and she can have her head RIGHT beside it and still do nothing. She ultimately generally eats (as a ball python though, she's a picky eater and will occasionally reject a meal), but I of course wonder why she's odd about dinnertime... As a champagne, she does have the notorious "spider gene" in her, which can cause neurological issues, but idk if something like this could be related.

[firesoulstuff]

Accidental Baby Acquisition from the tropes + Jax and Sara (as friends) please?

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15962468/chapters/68072311

“Apartment’s empty.” Jax says into his comm. “No ones home.”

“Great.” Rip sighs on the other end, his voice making it very clear that the report is anything but great. “Ok, come back.”

Jax turns, intent on relaying the message to Sara, but she’s gone.

“Sara?” He calls, stepping deeper into the apartment instead of closer to the exit.

They’re looking for a woman who is supposed to be insignificant to the timeline, but instead she disappeared from her apartment and she’s going to be found dead by the end of the week. Her dad is a big wall street guy and the body turning up is set to lead him to doing some pretty reckless, dangerous, and timeline destroying things. So, they’ve got to find her alive.

“Jax…” Sara’s voice is coming from the bedroom, which she’d told him was empty before he’d reported to Rip.

Why is she still in there?

Inside the room is dark, the bed made and nothing out of place. Sara’s standing on the other side of the bed, her hands on her hips and her lip between her teeth as she looks at him with a look that spells disaster.

“What?” He asks, coming around the corner of the bed, and he stops short.

He blinks, his brain not processing at first what he’s seeing. It’s a lump. A red, blotchy, breathing… Oh.

It’s a baby.

It’s a new baby, with the cord still attached and dried blood covering it from head to toe.

He strips off his jacket without a word, they can’t just leave the thing here. He gets down to his knees and spreads the jacket out on the ground… and that’s when he hesitates.

His hands are hovering, barely off the jacket. How… How is he supposed to…?

“You get the baby.” Sara says, getting next to him and gathering up the cord as well as the lump attached at the other end of it, what was that thing called again?

Whatever it’s called she folds it up and lays it in his jacket, to the side but not in the sleeve.

Get the baby, sure, easier said then done.

He’s holding his breath as he hovers over the baby. He isn’t sure how to grab it – her. It’s easy to tell the baby’s a girl, not that that really helps him much. She’s asleep, sort of, her eyes are closed, but she’s whimpering like she’s right on the edge of waking up, and he really doesn’t want to be the thing that pushes her over.

“Ok.” Sara eventually says, out of patience with him. She crawls into his space, leans over, and slowly but smoothly slips her hands under the baby and moves her.

“Grab your jacket.” She instructs him very matter-of-factly. “Wrap her up.”

He does as he’s told, the baby’s whimpers starting to get louder before she’s even done telling him what to do.

“Shhh… Shh… It’s ok baby, I got you. I got you.” Sara whispers to the baby, bringing her close to her chest and so he follows the path with his hands holding the jacket awkwardly and trying to both get the baby wrapped up and not drop the organ attached to her.

Unfortunately, Sara bringing the baby to her chest turns out to be a mistake.

The room isn’t exactly well lit, and truth be told he is mostly focusing on not dropping anything, but maybe it’s because “anything” includes the baby he is trying to get ahold of that he sees what happens. He knows enough about babies to know they operate mostly on instincts, and that’s the only way he can explain it. With Sara practically leaning over the kid and bringing her close, the baby opens up her little mouth and then very abruptly realizes that there is a shirt in the way of what she thinks is a food source, and she does NOT appreciate it.

She starts screaming, like a switch has been turned on in her lungs and jammed on high. It’s so sudden he almost drops his jacket and the organ still attached to the kid. Sara fumbles a little too, but she clutches the kid tighter and even through that encourages the screams it also pulls on the cord and he’s able to keep his hold.

The two of them must look like a pair of circus monkeys scrambling over each other on the floor, trying to keep from making even more of a mess, or worse, hurting the baby. Eventually, somehow, they get the baby mostly wrapped in his jacket and to their feet, with Sara having a good enough hold on everything.

“You think there’s formula in the kitchen?” He asks, and no, Sara does not look like she thinks there’s formula in the kitchen.

“Couldn’t hurt to check.” She says anyway.

.

.

There was not any formula in the kitchen.

Instead of getting the baby fed the two of them had to hurry back to the Waverider with a screaming baby attracting attention at every turn.

It’s a wonder they didn’t get arrested on kidnapping suspicions.

Now things are a little calmer, at least. Gideon was able to fabricate a bottle and some formula so the baby is finally quiet and they can hear themselves think again.

Not that their thinking is doing them any good.

Jax his holing the baby right now, since Sara had needed two hands free to cut the cord properly. She’s still sucking down her bottle greedily and looking down at her… who could ever just leave her?

She’s adorable. Drowning in his jacket and looking up at him with shining brown eyes. In the bright light of the med bay he can see the dried bloody on all over her body is, in fact, very dry. It falls off easy in little flakes, and that only makes Jax wonder how long she’s been alone on that bedroom floor.

Rip’s supposedly working on figuring that out right now. Apparently there never was a baby in the original timeline, so he’s in the parlor, pacing and ranting to probably Ray something about “Why is there a baby?!”, and while Jax hopes they find an answer he also can’t help but worry Rip might come in here saying they have to go back and make sure this kid is never born.

“Careful.” Sara says, pulling him from his thoughts. She’s looking at him with that face she gets when she’s about to play the role of “only adult in the room.” “Remember the little siren we ran back here with. She may look cute, but she’s gonna cause a lot of trouble.”

He wants to roll his eyes, because what she’s really implying there is completely insane. He is not getting attached… At least not so much that he’s actually entertaining thoughts of this baby sticking around.

He looks down at her again, maybe in an attempt to prove his point.

Ok, so he’s entertaining the thoughts just a little bit, but he isn’t taking them seriously.

He looks back to Sara, trying to think of a comeback, but he’s saved from that because Snart comes knocking on the doorframe.

“I hope you’re not getting attached.”

His eyes are on Sara, not him, and Jax laughs.

“I’m not the one you need to be worried about.” Sara informs Snart, glancing over to him and so Snart follows her look, and Jax rolls his eyes.

Thankfully, though, instead of making a comment Snart turns back to Sara, all business.

“Raymond found the girl.” He informs her, “Our aberration is her boyfriend. Apparently a little over nine months ago in the Time Bastards timeline they both went to a club and never crossed paths. That didn’t happen this time. One night thing, she hid the pregnancy, or convinced herself it wasn’t real. Professor thinks after she gave birth she went into shock and left the apartment.”

“Stein thinks she got up and walked away from giving birth?” Sara asks, slowly, completely ignoring him looking on at this point and only looking at Snart. Still, even only seeing the side of her face Jax can tell she isn’t buying it.

“Might explain why Raymond found her passed out in a broom closet.” Snart informs her, unfazed, and understandably so.

That would explain that.

Sara seems to agree; based on the look she gives Snart.

“He’s on his way back with her now, figured it’d be better to bring her here to the med bay rather than call an ambulance and have to explain two time travelers already took the baby.”

Jax decides to fix his attention solely on the baby with that comment, let Sara and Snart snark at each other.

She’s done with her bottle now, sucking on nothing and so after a moment of internal debate he gently pulls it away from her and very carefully drags her up his front until he gets her settled on his shoulder and can start to tap her on the back the way he’s always seen it done in movies.

“You might want to take her to your room or something.” Snart says, looking to him. “Something tells me when Raymond gets here with the mom there’s gonna be a lot going on in here.”

He nods, “Ok, I’ll go soon as she burps.”

“Try rubbing her back instead of patting her.” Sara suggests, “I don’t know why, but it’s more effective.”

He does as she says, and maybe it’s coincidence or maybe it’s evidence, but either way the baby lets out a loud burp almost soon as he’s changed up his tactic.

Snart notices too, and raises his eyebrow at Sara.

“What?” Sara asks with a smirk. “I babysat all through high school, remember?”

“You learned to cut an umbilical cord babysitting?” Jax teases and she smirks at him.

“That my friend is all League of Assassins.”

He snickers, of course it is.

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 54

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @thordoodaday​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

“You know, I should really beat the shit out of you.”

Tyler glances up from his cell phone as his brother in law joins him on the front porch. He'd only woken up a half an hour before; hair still messy, sleep still clouding his vision, brain still slightly foggy. The lingering effects of jet lag and his body still getting used to being back on the meds. It's four thirty in afternoon and he feels as if he could sleep forever. And while Nik's security people patrol the perimeter of the property and the women have headed into town to grab groceries, he'd retreated to the front porch; a cup of steaming black coffee sitting on one side of him,  and the roughly sketched out New Zealand plans (along with a bright yellow highlighter and a pen) on the other.  For the time being he's focused on returning the many text messages that Ovi and Nathan -the young Marine- have sent him. New Zealand is still very much up in the air; he hasn't made his mind up yet one way or the other, but promised Yaz and the others that he'd at least look things over.

He smirks, then looks back down at his phone.  “You can try if you want, mate. But I don't suggest it. Not if you know what's good for you.”

Tyler wouldn't go as far as calling them friends; close acquaintances, maybe. They talked on occasion; Kyle was the only member of Esme's entire family that wanted anything to do with him and had always been willing to give him a chance, even right from the get go when he'd wandered into their lives as the complete stranger who'd (in Esme's mother's words), 'stole her away from them'.  Kyle had argued that his sister was a grown woman who was more than capable of making her own decisions when it came to what -and who- she wanted, and in turn that had ostracized him from most of his family. He didn't give a shit; in the same way Tyler didn't give a shit whether they liked him or what. And they'd bonded over that, along with the fact they both loved her and the kids.

But friends is stretching it.  He's an immensely private person; he doesn't even like the people who are considered friends knowing his business.

“Want one?” Kyle asks, as he taps Tyler in the shoulder with the six pack of beer that dangles in his hand.

He shakes his head. “I told my wife I wouldn't drink anymore. I meant it.”  He couldn't control it when he did; one would turn into two and two into half a dozen and pretty soon he was close to polishing over a case of twenty four on his own and was drunk off his ass. He'd been sober for a year and a half following Dhaka; the time in the hospital and all the rehab had him getting clean and sober. But he'd gone back on the job and the things he started both seeing and doing again had been too much to handle and booze had been a lot better than going back to the drugs.  Or at least in his mind it had been.

“Things were getting out of hand?” Kyle takes a seat beside him on the top step.

“You could say that.”

“Guess it's probably best to avoid it when you're on meds anyway.”

It's a casual comment; thrown out there to see if it will get a reaction from Tyler.  It doesn't.  All he gives is a simple, “Guess so”, and takes a sip of his coffee.  

Kyle takes a swig of his beer, then leans forward and picks up the pieces of paper that sit on the step below them; briefly scanning them, a frown on his face.

“None of your fucking business,” Tyler says before his brother in law can even ask, and he snatches the papers from Kyle's hand and places them beside him, underneath his coffee mug and cell phone. “If you're here to bust my balls about something, I'm not in the mood.”

“She's my sister.”

“Yeah? Well she's my wife.”

“Your pregnant wife,” Kyle points out. “And you're seriously thinking about going and doing this? Whatever the hell is going down in New Zealand?”

“Like I said, not your fucking business.”

“She is my business. She's my kid sister. It doesn't matter if she's married to you or not.  I still have the right to protect her. To want what's best for her.”

“And you think I do that? Protect her? You think I don't want what's best for her?”

“How is leaving her here to go back to work what's best for her? When you know that she's not doing well and that there could be problems with the baby? How is that what's best for Esme? Don't you think it will just stress her out even more? Worrying about you? That's definitely not what she needs. Or what this baby needs.”

“Since when did you become a goddamn expert on what your sister needs? You think just coming around here once or twice a month means you know anything about her? I've been with her for five and a half years. I think I've got a little more experience in what's best for her.”

“Which is why you took off when she was having the twins right? When she was having all those problems and you still took off.”

“I know you think it was some kind of easy decision. And that I'm a selfish asshole for making it, but I had to make a hard call when it came to taking care of my family.  Your mother isn't handing us all kinds of cash like she does with all the others. She doesn't even remember when the kids' birthdays are. I actually have to work. And I had a wife and a little girl to take care of, two kids on the way, and I had to pay a mortgage, put food on the table, pay the bills. You think I wanted to leave? I had to leave. I did it because I didn't have a fucking choice. And you can go back and tell your mother that. Because I bet that's not the version she tells everyone. Her version is me just up and abandoning my pregnant wife and my little girl. And that's not how it happened. Far from it.”

“But why this job? Why this kind of thing? Why not something else? Anything else?”

“Because I'm fucking good at it, that's why.”

“Maybe it's the kind of life for a single guy. Maybe when you didn't have a wife and kids it seemed like the ideal thing to do. But why now? When you have so much to lose? Why would want to even take that chance? That you might not come back and you'll leave her with four kids? Soon it'll be fine. Why would you want that for her? For them?”

“Look, I've been doing this job a long time. Before I even met your sister. I met her because of the job. She knew who I was. What I was. And she made the decision to stick around. She said yes when I asked her to marry me. Knowing what kind of life she was getting into. And let's not pretend she's completely innocent in all of this. Do you know what she used to do? And if you say she was into a business, I will honestly punch you in the fucking face.”

“She told me. That she was into intel.”

“Do you know the kind of people that she helped bring down? The kind of people she went up against? That she lied to and played and conned? She's who would lead guys like me to the bad guys. Not just bad guys. Horrible guys.  Guys that hurt innocent people. Women and children, even. If it wasn't for her, guys like me wouldn't even have a body count or a payout. So let's not pretend that she wasn't in this life too.”

“But she gave it up. After what happened to you in Bangladesh.”

“She didn't have to. She did that willingly. Your sister doesn't do anything that's not her idea, trust me.”

“To stay there and take care of you,” Kyle points out.

“And she didn't have to do that either. But she did. And I'm glad she did. Because if she hadn't, we wouldn't have Millie. Or the boys. Or the baby we're having now. Where the fuck are you going with all this? How is this any of your business to begin with?”

“She's my sister.”

“I don't fucking care. She's my wife. I think that takes precedence, don't you. Look, I know you love her and I know you want to protect her. And you're a good brother and you're a great uncle. But don't stick your nose in my business. Our business.  I don't let your mother do it and I'm not letting you do it. No matter how much I like you.”

“I'm just worried about her. And the baby.”

“And I'm not? I didn't just come back all the way from Ireland to make sure their okay? Fuck off, Kyle. I'm not in the mood for this shit. I'm tired, I'm sore, I've got a lot of shit on my plate. I appreciate that you're here for her and I don't care if you stick around, just stay out of our business.”

“So are you?”

“Am I what? Tired of your twenty fucking questions? Yeah, I am, actually.”

His cell phone vibrates next to him; another text from Ovi.  And he picks it up to read and return it, hoping his brother in law will take the hint that this conversation is officially over.  He'd told Ovi that he needed to stall for a couple days; not to return to Colorado until he knew for sure if he was going back to New Zealand or not. He didn't want the kids coming home, discovering that he was there, and then having their hearts broken when he left again.”

“Are you going to New Zealand?” Kyle presses.

“I don't know. I haven't made up my mind yet.”

“You really think you should?”

“What I think is that you need to mind your own business. This has nothing to do with you. It's a decision I'm going to make, with my wife.  So drop it, yeah? Worry more about yourself and less about me.”

“I'm worried about my sister.”

Tyler sighs. “And so am I, mate. Which is why I came home and which is why I'm going to talk about this with her. Not you. Her.”

“Just tell me who you do this. I'm not talking about New Zealand. I'm talking about this in general. This kind of job.”

“Like I said, I'm good at it. What more do you need to know?”

“How'd you even get into this? Why not just stay in the military and...”

“We're not close enough for me to get into all the depressing and fucked up reasons why I started doing what I do. Or how I ended up as messed up as I am. I got into the job, I stayed in it, end of story.”

“And my sister just willingly stayed. Even knowing what you do. That you kill people.”

“I didn't hold a gun to her, did I? So yeah. She's willingly stayed. And when this is over...this job...I'm done. For good. And she knows that. She told me I had to choose and that's actually what I did. I chose her. And my kids. Now is there anything else you want to ask me or are you done pissing me off now?”

“Just tell me one thing...”

Tyler smirks. “That was actually a rhetorical question, mate.”

“If you love her as much as you claim you do, why get her involved in this in the first place? Why didn't you just cut her loose? When you woke up in the hospital and found out that she'd given up everything for you, why didn't you just tell her to go back home? To leave you alone? Why'd you let her stay?”

“What kind of fucking question is that? Because I was in love her, that's why. And I didn't want her to leave.”

“Do you realize how selfish that is? You know how screwed up this life would be for her. How hard it would be. How dangerous it would be. Why would you want that for her? I get that you guys found out she was having Millie. But that should have been an even bigger reason to let her go. Bring her and a baby into all of this?”

“You know what, you're overstepping big time here. Your sister had the choice. She could have left. She didn't go.”

“How hard did you try to convince her? Because something tells me if wasn't hard enough or she would have been on the next flight home. Why would you do that to her? Let her stay. Knowing what her life would be like?”

“Your sister and I have had a good life. We've had our issues. I'm not denying that. But our life together has been pretty good. It's been fucking amazing at times. So you need to back off and leave us alone. Let us be married, let us raise our kids together, grow old together. What does it matter what happened five and a half years ago? She chose to stay. End of story.”

“And you chose to let her life like this. The constant stress, the worry, the fear. And for what? Because you love her? If you loved her, you never would have wanted to get her involved in all of this. You wouldn't have let her. It's fucking selfish and you know it.”

“We're done here.” Tyler says, and gathering up the empty mug and stack of papers, stands up, knee cracking noisily. “I don't owe you an explanation. I love your sister. More than I ever thought it was possible to love someone. And if that makes me a selfish fuck, then I guess that's what I have to live with..  But don't come to my house and start this shit. You've got the wrong guy to pull this crap with. Why don't you go back to worrying about what Nik is up to. Go and jerk off some more while thinking about her. Whatever will keep you out of my business.”

“You know,” Kyle calls after him. “You can be a real dick.”

Tyler doesn't respond; the screen door slamming shut behind him.

****

They sit on the front porch swing; sun long set, a gentle breeze rustling the tree tops.  She lays on her back, covered in an old tattered plaid blanket, head in his lap, his hand a familiar yet still welcome weight as it rests on her stomach,  his one foot moving the seat back and forth. It's nice to have this; something normal and familiar. Even when everything around them seems anything but.

“The nurse said if I'm still keeping everything down tomorrow, I can get this stupid thing taken out,” Esme comments, her nose crinkled in disgust as she holds up the hand with IV in it. “Fuck this thing.”

“You're supposed to keep it flat,” Tyler scolds, and lifts his hand from her stomach long enough to take hold of her wrist and bring her hand down onto her body. “So air doesn't get into it and the line doesn't get fucked up.”

“Well if the line gets fucked, they'll just have to take it out sooner. Or maybe you can. You pulled your own at least a half a dozen times when you were in the hospital. So technically, you'd be able to take mine out, right?”

“That's a no,” he says, and lays his hand on her forearm, opting not to put the pressure and weight on the IV site. “It's there for a reason,” he reminds her.

“I haven't puked all day,” she points out.

“And that's good and I'm proud of you, but it has to stay. Until at least tomorrow when we go and see the doctor. It's his decision. Not mine. And definitely not yours.”

“While we're there we can ask him to clarify the sex thing. I'm sure he would have told me if I couldn't.”

“He said to avoid things that get your blood pressure up. I'm pretty sure that means sex is a no.”

“I'm surprised you're so agreeable. Knowing how intense your sex drive is.”

“It's better to be safe than sorry, yeah? Now shut up about sex.”

She laughs. “Nice poker face. It's bothering you more than you're letting on. You're good. You seem so clam and neutral about things. Inside you're dying, aren't you?”

“Maybe just a little.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“Okay, maybe a lot. We're not used to having to take things easy. We didn't even take things that easy after the kids were born. So yeah, I'm feeling it. Can you blame me? My wife is the most beautiful, insanely sexy woman on the planet.”

“Baby, you're so biased.”

“Maybe,” he grins. “But it doesn't make it less true.”

She smiles, and he leans down to kiss her softly.

“For what it's worth,” she says. “I'm dying too. Because my hormones are just going crazy and I am so horny for you right now.”

“Just now?”

“All the time,” she giggles. “And it's like that when I'm not pregnant. And now it's ten times as bad. And you talk about having to take cold showers.  I should go just go and sit in the freezer to save water.'

He chuckles at that, then kisses her once more. Longer this time, but no less soft and tender, his eyes on hers as lays his free hand on the top of her head, thumb repeatedly brushing against her forehead.

“Don't look at me like that,” she pouts dramatically.

“Like what?”

“Like that. With your stupid blue eyes and your stupid crazy handsome face and your stupid hair falling in your eyes,” she reaches up to push the longer strands off his forehead.

Tyler grins. “I'm not allowed to look at you now?”

“Not like that.”

“I'm not looking at you any different than I do all the time.”

“Oh yes you are. You just can't tell. But I can.  There are really dirty things going through your mind right now.”

“Maybe.”

“You can hide these things from me. I know you so well. I don't know why you underestimate that all the time. I've spent five and a half years with you. I know all your different looks. All your expressions. All your body language. You so want me right now.”

“In all fairness, I want you all the time.”

“But right now, it's extra bad isn't it. Admit it. Don't be shy. You want to fuck me so bad right now.”

He nods. “There's some really, really dirty shit I want to do to you right now.”

“And who says romance is dead?” she quips, and he kisses her even longer this time; the brief glide of tongue against tongue, their heart rates increasing, breath quickening.  “I'm pretty sure it's okay,” she insists. “They would have said something at the hospital today.”

“And I'm pretty sure we can wait until we talk to the doctor tomorrow.”

She frowns. “You suck, Tyler.  You're the worst.”

“It's just better to wait, okay? To know for sure.  Humour me. Please.”

“I like this side of you. The dotting husband side. It's a very attractive look on you. Maybe I'll let you baby me and take care of me from now on.”

“I thought you hated when I did that shit. You've always complained about it before.”

“I promise I will never complain about it again. Because it makes me feel like a Queen and it's sexy as fuck on you. Not that you need to be any more sexier than you already are. What a terrible burden you have to bear. Looking like you do. I don't know how you do it every day. How can you stand looking at yourself in the mirror? I look like a troll and you look like that. Life is so unfair.”

“You do not look like a troll. Not anywhere close to it. You know I think you're beautiful. I always have. I always will.”

She smiles. “There you go being a softie again. You're just on a roll today. You're in fine form. What's gotten into you?”

“Nothing. What? I'm not allowed to be this way with my wife? You're the only one I can be this way with. Everyone else expects something different.”

“Doesn't mean you have to give it to them, You don't always have to be the assertive, confident, tough guy you know. You can be human.”

“I'll save being human for you. You won't get on my ass about it.”

“If people don't like you the way you are...the real way you are...well fuck them.  I happen to love all sides of you.”

“And you're the only one that matters, so...” he pecks her lips. “....let it go.”

“You're so difficult,” she sighs, and reaching for his hand, she laces their fingers together and brings them down to rest on her stomach once more. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Okay....”

“And I don't want you to freak out. Promise me you won't freak out.”

“Why would I freak out? Is there where you tell me that Manny the UPS guy might be the father?”

She smirks.

“What is it? What do you need me to do.”

“I need you to be gone before the kids get back.”

He looks down at her, eyes narrowed.

“Don't look at me like that,” she pleads. “I don't mean it in the way you think I do.  I just don't want them coming home and seeing you here and being excited about it and then you leave them the next day. That's not fair to them. They miss you so much and it kills them when you're away. I think it's just better that they don't know you were here.”

“Baby, I already told Ovi not to bring them back yet. Until I told him if I was leaving or not. I'm one step ahead of you.”

“That's the last time I will ever underestimate you. You're getting quick in your old age.”

“And who says I'm leaving anyway?”

“You just said you talked to Ovi and told him not to bring the kids back.”

“No, I told him to hold him to hold off for a couple of days until I told him one way or the other. Not that  I was for sure leaving.”

“You're leaving.”

“Says who?”  

“Me.”

Tyler chuckles. “And it's up to you because...”

“Because I know what will happen if you don't go. You will have it on your mind for the rest of your life. You'll constantly wonder what happened to those kids. If they were ever found. If they're still alive.  I know you, Tyler. I know that will stay with you.”

“I'm sure I'll find out one way or another what happened to them.”

“That won't make things any better. Say they never get out of there and they die. You will blame yourself.  You will always believe that they died because you weren't there to get them out. You will have that on your conscience for the rest of your life, and I do not want that for you.  You're supposed to be retiring. It won't be much of a retirement if you can't rest.  And you won't rest if you don't do this.”

“It doesn't need to be me, Esme. That goes in.”

“Yes. It does. And you know it does. And I know you've been thinking about those kids since you go home.  I know they've been on your mind. I'm not faulting you for that. I know how your brain works.  You gave your word that you'd get them out and it doesn't matter how big of a bastard McMann turned out to be. You promised you'd get those kids and it's been on your mind ever since you made that promise. You need to be there and you know it.”

“I need to be here,” he insists. “ With you.”

“No, you don't. Things are fine. I'm okay. The baby's okay.  And the doctor is going to tell you the same thing tomorrow. Nik is here, my brother is here. You don't need to be here.”

“Bullshit. I'm your husband. That's my kid in there.”

“And we're both fine,” she insists. “And it's amazing you came and I love you so much for it. Because before you probably never would have done it. You would have been fine with people being here with me. Like when I was pregnant with the twins. So I think it's incredible that you came all this way. But you need to go.  Not just for those kids. But for yourself.”

Sighing heavily, he closes his eyes and leans his head back against the brick behind him.

“You know I'm right,” she says. “And I know you think it makes you a shitty husband for wanting to go. But it doesn't. You think it means that you're abandoning me. But you're really abandoning those kids. Because you're their only hope. You want go, right? You can admit it. I'm not going to be mad. I'm not going to think less of you. You want to go New Zealand, don't you.”

He nods.

“Then go. I'm not going to stop you. I'm telling you to do it. I'm telling you I want you to do it. Because I don't want you staying and then spending the rest of your life blaming yourself for what happens to them.  You have enough going on up in your head; enough to deal with. You don't need that too.  I don't want that for you. That kind of torment.  You've been through enough without putting yourself through that.”

“And if I don't make it back?” he asks.  “Then what? Then you'll be on your own with four kids. Soon five. And then what? If we're going to talk about this, we might as talk about all of it. Say I go back and something happens, what then?”

“Well, I deal with it, I guess. I don't know what you want me to say. I don't even like thinking about that; something happening to you.”

“You said it yourself, these people are dangerous. More dangerous than I've ever gone up against it. So there's a chance I'm never coming back from this. You realize that, right?”

She nods, tears welling in her eyes. “I've known for five and a half years that it could happen. Every time you walk out the door. And it almost happened in Dhaka.”

“This going to be worse than Dhaka. Way worse.”

“And you'll be fine. You'll go in there and you'll get those kids and you'll get the hell out and you'll come home.”

“Esme, you need to prepare yourself. For the worst case scenario. And it fucking kills me inside to even talk about it. But I need you to think about it. I need you be ready for it.”

“How can I be ready for something like that? There's no way to be ready for something like that.”

“You know where everything is, right? All the paperwork? Everything you would need to take to a lawyer. You know where that all is, right?”

Nodding, she wipes at the tears that trickle down her cheeks.

“If something happens and I don't come back, you take the money and you take the kids and you go. You don't stay here. Because chances are, those people won't stop. So you take the money and get the fuck out of here and you don't look back. Promise me. That you'll do that.”

“I promise.”

“And you do whatever you have to do to change your name. To change their names. You have to do that. There can't be anything left of me. No trace. It has to be like I never existed. You understand that, right?”

She nods.

“Nik will help you. She can help with all that. She's had to do it for other people.”

“I don't want to talk about this,” she sobs. “Please stop. I don't want to hear this.”

“You'll be fine. You and the kids will be fine. You're strong. The strongest person I've ever met. And you'll go on with your life and you'll be fine. I promise.”

“Stop, Tyler,” she begs. “Please just stop. I don't want to hear this.”

“You have to. You have to hear it and you have to listen to me.”

She shakes her head. “You're going to be fine. You're going to get those kids and you're going to come home. There's no other choice. You have to come home.”

“I'm going to try my best. You know that.”

“That's not what I need to hear. I need to hear you say you're going to come back.”

“I can't, baby. I can't promise you that. Because that's not a promise I'm sure I can keep. But you'll be fine. You and the kids will be okay. That I can promise you.”

He leans down to kiss her. Tasting the salt of her tears on her lips.

“So you're going then?” she asks. “You're going to New Zealand?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I'm going.”

[thetiredbiwrites]

Nurse Rogers

Steve x Reader (Plationic!Bucky x Reader, Plationic!Sam x Reader)

Summary: Reader is ill so her dramatic boyfriend looks after her

Words: 3925

A/N: I seem to have a habit of writing a lot, even if it’s not that great 🤣, but I also love reading long fics so oh well 🤷‍♀️ (the ending might be a tad rushed as well but I got stuck at the end and I wanted to post something)

A/N no.2: I don’t usually write in 1st person (’I’ and ‘my’ and shit) so if it randomly jumps to 2nd person (’you’ and ‘your’ etc) I’m sorry.

I am not sick. I tell myself again. I had felt it starting last night. You know how colds are. You just know when it’s coming. The scratchy throat, the sniffly nose and the mild headache when you moved. But I flat out refused to believe I was sick. If I believe I’m not then, I wont be. Besides, these things are always worse first thing in the morning and last thing at night, right?

Having survived the morning after a brief trip the gym, having to cut it short when my lungs screamed for air and spots danced in my vision, and a meeting with Tony discussing some new tech for me to use on missions (luckily I managed to control my sneezing so he wouldn’t question it), I was now on a personal mission to make tea.

Bucky and Sam strolled into the kitchen, their ‘debate’ being cut short by my loud sneeze. I somehow succeeded in not spilling boiling water all over the counter instead of my mug of lemon green tea with honey (I’m not sick. My sore throat is for other reasons. Definitely.) I immediately regretted shaking the sneeze away when my head pounded, and Bucky and Sam definitely caught it.

“Gesundheit.”

“That didn’t sound good, are you ok Y/N?”

Sam and Bucky commented. I just put on a smile, finishing making my tea and waved it off.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Totally fine. Just, dust. You know?”

Replying in a raspy voice, even I didn’t believe me. Sam and Bucky looked at each other and back to me with raised eyebrows.

“You want us to pretend that sounded even remotely believable?”

Sam remarked, leaning on the counter in front of me as Bucky rounded it and placed his hand on my forehead before dropping it and sighing.

“You’re sick.” Snapping to look at him with an indignant look I willed my voice to remain steady, “I am not sick!” I was betrayed as I sneezed loudly into my arm.

Sam and Bucky were more similar than they would ever admit as they looked at me with matching looks of ‘oh really’ but concern in their eyes. I had become fast friends with them and they knew how damn stubborn I was. I signed and dropped my head in defeat.

“You might want to try and sound more convincing before Steve gets up here.” I quickly looked up at Sam with wide eyes, in a panic. “No, I’m not sick.” Looking between the two men I knew they weren’t going to believe me anytime soon. “Ok, maybe I am but it’s just a cold, it’s not that bad. I’ve had a million colds in my life, it’s fine. I’m fine. Steve doesn’t have to know, please.” I practically whined at the end. Begging for Steve not to know.

Steve could get a little dramatic. Ok a lot dramatic. If anyone got hurt or was sick he could turn into a mother hen. Making sure they were resting, following doctor’s orders and well looked after. It was annoying really. And hypocritical. Given how his sick pre-serum ass never sat still for two seconds and fought people three times his size in back-allies. You’d have thought Bucky would be the fussy one, having looked after Steve all that time. He would make sure people had what they needed and were resting appropriately, sure, but gave you space and freedom and wasn’t overbearing.

Steve could become especially annoying when I was hurt or sick. Having been together for two and a half years, I knew this. Hence why I was trying to avoid him and deny this sickness. Luckily, he was always up first and every other morning went on a run with Sam and Bucky. Meaning he wasn’t there when I woke this morning wheezing, sneezing and sniffling.

Bucky and Sam just sent me sympathetic looks as footsteps down the hall indicated the arrival of my boyfriend. I groaned, dropping my head and letting my hair curtain my face from him as I drank my soothing tea.

Steve greeted everyone with a cheery hello, clearly Sam and Bucky behaved during their morning run and training for a change. I replied with a mumbled hello, trying to disappear into my mug.

I felt Bucky gently pat my shoulder before retreating to sit next the Sam opposite from me. Seconds later, I felt another presence on my other side and closed my eyes, breathing in the tea and hoping he wouldn’t catch on.

Of course I’m not that lucky.

*Steve had easily picked up on his girlfriend’s behaviour, not even looking at him and the clipped greeting. He took a closer look at her as he stood up straight after grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. She was stood slightly hunched, hair covering her face as she held a mug to her face. She was slightly shivering and wearing a chunky knitted cardigan which was unnecessary in the heated tower. Sparing a glance at Bucky and Sam he noticed them avoiding his gaze. The whole picture was off to him.*

I felt Steve place one hand on the other side of my head before planting a kiss on the other side, keeping his hand in place as he spoke.

“You ok, sweetheart?”

I still didn’t look up as I finished my tea,”Mmhm, yeah. I’m ok.”

Steve sighed, clearly not believing me. He may be in an idiot sometimes but he wasn’t dumb. Taking the mug out of my hands and placing it on the counter, he gently directed my face to look at him. I kept my eyes down but could feel his scanning my face before copying Bucky’s earlier actions and placing a hand on my forehead and tutting.

“Y/N you’re sick.”

I heard Bucky and Sam take in a sharp breath as I slowly meet Steve’s stern, but worried, gaze. I knew it was pointless trying to argue, but I was going to anyway.

“Not I’m not. I’m…slightly under the weather. With a common cold. It’s not even a bother. I’m totally fine, not even that bad. I’ve definitely had worse.”

“Y/N.”

Here it comes.

“You are sick. You should be in bed. It could get worse and you don’t look fine. You’re pale, shaking, your eyes are red and puffy, your nose is red, your lips are dry and chapped and your voice sounds bad, should I go on or are you done?” I groaned and closed my eyes, rolling my neck I spared a glance to the guys who immediately found something on the counter more interesting. Useless so-called best friends.

Steve nodded once before declaring that I was going back to bed. As he quickly made me a fresh tea I leaned into the guys, who coved their faces from my infected breath, and glared. “Traitors. Some best friends you are, totally useless.”

“Let’s go.”

Groaning, again, I dropped my head and muttered, ‘I hate Nurse Rogers’, causing the traitors to let out a laugh. I pushed off the counter and trudged after my Nurse, pout on my face.

*two days later*

I had been confined to my bed, only granted permission to get up to use the bathroom. It was much more tasking to convince Steve to let me have a shower last night than interrogating HYDRA agents. I was currently trapped under many layers of blankets reminding myself I did in fact love my boyfriend.

My symptoms had gotten worse, as they always do in the early days of a cold. The ones I could hide from Steve, I did. The coughing fits, runny nose, teary eyes and croaky voice were impossible to hide from him. But he didn’t know that my whole body ached, my head was pounding and that my chest cried out with every breath. He’d only freak out and try to force me to the med bay, completely unnecessary.

I tried not to glare at him as he softly made his way over to sit on the bed next to me. Another mug of lemon tea was placed on the bedside table as he handed me some water and painkillers to take as he checked my temperature, again. I had given up trying to stop him, actually I had just stopped talking to him altogether. Communicating in nods and various hums when he asked something. He was frustrating, but he only did it because he loved me. Something I had to remind my self of more and more frequently and the minutes ticked by.

“Temp hasn’t changed much. I brought you another tea and some mild snacks that should also be gentle on your throat. Here’s some more tissues. You take your pills?” With eyebrows raised I just nodded at Steve who was somehow tucking the blankets tighter and fussing around me.

“I have to run out to the store so promise you’ll stay in bed, drink your tea and try to eat something. I’ll be back very soon.” With an ‘mmhmm’ from me, Steve gently kissed my head before, thankfully, leaving. The furthest from me he had been in the last two days was the kitchen of our shared floor. Even then, he kept the door open so he could still see me.

I waited ten minutes before confirming with FRIDAY that Steve was out of the building to- with great difficulty- throw the covers off. I had made the mistake of shivering last night which got me wrapped up in a hundred layers. However, a couple hours ago, it all switched, and I was way too hot. This meant I was a disgusting, sweaty mess now.

I quickly sprayed some deodorant on, changed my clothes into some breathable pj bottoms and a tee and brushed my hair. Grabbing my slipper-boots and tea, I’d be in so much bother if I didn’t drink it, I dragged my aching legs to the elevator.

“Hey FRIDAY, where’s Barnes and Wilson?”

Luckily FRIDAY is a high-tech AI designed by THE Tony Stark, meaning she could still understand my horrible voice. The effect of not speaking for a while made my throat scream and I tried to sooth it with my tea as I was informed the guys were in the gym.

A coughing fit broke out as the doors opened to the gym and yet I somehow managed not to spill any tea and walk in. This, of course, caught the attention of the two sweaty men in the middle of yet another competition, both turning to look at me.

“How the hell did you get away from Steve?”

“Did you finally snap and kill him?”

Bucky and Sam asked as my coughs eased, free hand slightly pressing on my chest as I got my breathing back.

“Ha Ha. I don’t think I could if I tried right now.”

I made my way in front of the boys, who’s faces scrunched into sympathy and concern as the sound of my voice.

“He had to go to the store so I finally got my chance to bolt. Escape the confines of my bed. And to see my two favourite guys, of course!”

I laid it on thick at the end, smile wide- well, as wide as possible when they’re so cracked and sore. The boys just smiled and rolled their eyes, despite being sure they knew what I wanted, they asked anyway.

“Please, please, please, distract Steve. I am begging you. I will do anything, and that is a lot to promise to the two of you!” “Hey, offended.” “What do you expect us to do? Trying to get him to leave you is like convincing Tony to go to bed.”

Bucky had a point. Steve had cancelled all his training, gym time, meetings, everything. Just to stay with me. It was sweet, in a way. He loves me, but he’s smothering me. There’s a line.

“Maybe…you could make up a mission? Or spice one up a bit so that Captain America is needed?” The only chance Steve would leave is if innocent lives were at risk and he was needed. It had to be important and urgent, it was my only hope.

“’spice up’. Are you kidding, Y/N? You want us to lie about a mission just so you can have a break?” “Sam you have no idea what I would do. I cannot take anymore of this. I know he’s trying to help but to be honest he’s just prolonging this. The tea is the only thing working right now. I’m not dying but if innocents might be in danger of dying, they he’ll leave. Hopefully.”

Bucky dropped his head with a sigh. He knew better than anyone how Steve could be. During his recovery and adjustment into the 21st century and away from HYDRA, Steve was with him almost 24/7. After two weeks in the tower, he couldn’t take it anymore. He had slipped away from Steve and found himself in the lab with Tony and me. It didn’t take much begging for Tony to lock us in the lab and Steve out. He loves to mess with Steve.

“Ok. Sam, don’t you and Nat have that mission this afternoon? Maybe you could tell him there’s been some chatter and Captain America is needed.”

Sam looked at Bucky in disbelief and betrayal that he gave in so quickly. Also, that what Bucky came up with would pin him to blame when Steve finds out. But one look at my tired, begging, teary puppy eyes, had him caving.

“Ok, ok. I’ll let Nat know. Maybe we can tell him there’s word of more guards or hostages or something. But when he finds out, I’m blaming you, Tin-Arm.”

When Steve returned half an hour later, I was back in bed- with significantly less layers of blankets- watching Scrubs re-runs on tv and explaining things to Bucky who had cleaned up and offered to keep me company, without fussing over my cold.

Steve, after announcing his return and greeting Bucky, was immediately at my bedside again spewing question after question about how I was feeling.

“Hey, Punk, ease up. Try taking a breath and you might get an answer.”

Bucky came to my defence and Steve snapped his mouth shut. Bucky smirked slightly as he glanced at me and I smiled a thanks in return.

“I think Sam was looking for you. Something about a mission.”

“Yeah, I caught him downstairs. They have a meeting soon and leave in a few hours but-“

“Go” I rasped out the first work I’d spoken to him in days. My voice definitely felt worse after being mute for 48 hours then talking and laughing with Bucky for the last 30 minutes. But I didn’t show it.

“But I don’t- what if you- I wouldn’t be back for a couple days and you’re-“

“Fine. She’s fine, Steve. Don’t want to make your girl feel guilty if someone got hurt or killed because you chose to be dramatic about her basic, easily recovered from cold over going on this mission, do you?”

Damn. He’s good at this. Ok little mean, definitely a guilt trip. But it’s working and I need a break.

“I’ll stay with her. Get your butt to the meeting and go do your damn job.” I placed a hand over Steve’s and with a comforting smile told him I would be ok. With much reluctance and many glances, Steve gathered what he would need and headed out. Not before kissing my head goodbye though. He tried to tell me he doesn’t get sick with the serum so just let him kiss me, but I was not allowing myself to suddenly cough or sneeze into his mouth. Yuck.

Steve POV

(Two days later, back at the compound)

“So, you two lied to me?” Steve stormed through the halls, still in his uniform, Sam and Bucky trailing behind. He was infuriated.

He had easily realised he was not in fact needed on the mission the day after they arrived. He had decided to ignore it and just complete the mission as he was already there. The second they landed at the compound, however, Steve had turned to Sam and Natasha in fury. Natasha was quick to announce she had no part and take her leave. Bucky had made the mistake of meeting them when they landed, a mistake Sam was grateful for.

“Well, yes, but-“

Steve cut Sam off, “You lied to me. Made me go on a mission I was not needed on while Y/N is sick. I should have been here, looking after her. She could have-“

“She asked us to do it.”

Steve stopped and turned to Bucky, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Y/N asked us to do something. The only thing you would leave her alone for is a mission- If innocent lives were in danger.” He explained, softly. He knew as well as Y/N did that Steve was overprotective out of love.

“She did what? Why-why would she…?” Steve questioned, quietly. He was hurt. He just wanted to look after her, like a good boyfriend and friend should. He wanted her to be ok because he hated seeing her down or hurting or sick.

“Because she was going crazy. Dude, we know-she knows- that you love her. Like a lot, man, getting you to shut up about her is near impossible. But you get a bit much when any of us are sick or injured, but when it’s Y/N, man you go overboard.”

Steve was silenced by Sam’s confession. He just wanted everyone to be ok. He had realised he could go a little over the top sometimes, but every member of the team is so damn stubborn. Natasha dislocated her shoulder the year previous and, against doctors orders, was in the gym the following week. Clint had the flu the previous winter and still insisted on flying himself back home to Laura and the kids.

Both Tony’s therapist and the med bay doctor told him he needed to sleep more, and not at his workbench (it was not good for his back!), and yet he hadn’t listened. Steve is the only the one who still regularly pressures Tony to sleep. After the accords and Siberia incident, when everything was settled and everyone returned to the compound, Steve made an effort to pay more attention to Tony. Noting all the mistakes he made before. Tony did well at hiding his PTSD, anxiety and lack of decent sleep. But once Steve realised, he made it a personal mission to help him and regular, good sleep would go a long way. Even if it usually included arguments, threats to get FRIDAY or call Y/N down to get all his equipment shut down and even occasionally just picking him up, fireman style, and carrying him to his bed. After a 9 day stretch in the lab Steve had carried Tony to his room and stood guard til he was asleep (he had a habit of sneaking back out) and it wasn’t long until Tony was out for the night.

But Y/N, she was so important to him. And just as stubborn. Steve couldn’t bear the thought of her being in any sort of pain or anything bad happening her. He certainly couldn’t imagine losing her. It scared the shit out of him. He was just trying to help.

“Steve,” Bucky broke his prolonged silence, “she loves you, she knows you’re just trying to help her. But it’s just a cold. She just needs rest and occasionally painkillers for the headache. She admits the tea was helpful, but it’s hard to rest with hourly temperature checks, a game of 20 questions and those concerned eyes watching her 24-seven.” He pointed to Steve’s eyes, a smile on his face, and the corner of Steve’s mouth twitched.

“I guess I could, back off a bit. I was a slightly dramatic for a common cold.”

“Slightly?! Dude, just, ask her what she needs. Be there for her without taking over. You know she calls you ‘Nurse Rogers’ right?”

Steve laughed, “Really? Well I guess it’s appropriate.” He nodded and thanked his best friends.

Y/N POV

I was curled into my side, covers over my head and facing away from the windows. Curses aimed at my boyfriend swirled around my pounding head, why the hell did I agree to not have blackout curtains? I could have got black out blinds underneath for when he isn’t here. Maybe I’ll ask Tony next time I see him. Steve liked to wake up and see the light entering the room. He’s an early morning person and I’m not even a morning person. I accepted it though, actually got used to it and mastered the ability of easily falling back to sleep with the light. But my head hurts so much that the light is ten times too bright, making my eyes burn and the cold monster pound it’s heaving fists against my skull.

The rest of my symptoms had either disappeared or lessened. I no longer had a runny nose or teary eyes, no sudden sneezing or constant coughing and my throat was much better. I still had mini coughing fits and my chest ached, but not as much as the previous days. Unfortunately, the headache was relentless.

This is how Steve found me, the door slightly and slowly scuffing across the carpet and his light footsteps alerting me to his presence and identifying them as him. Bucky’s footsteps where slightly louder (and he had visited many times the last couple days) and Sam always swung the door open quickly. I didn’t raise my head though. I hadn’t long taken painkillers after waking up and they had yet to kick in.

I felt the bed dip and Steve carefully perched at the edge next to me and I braved peaking over the covers at him. He held a small and soft look on his face which brought me comfort. I had missed him. Well, I had missed Steve not Nurse Rogers. Bucky had checked in, especially first thing in the morning and last thing at night when I felt the worst, just to ask if I needed anything, and we watched a couple movies. I was perfectly able to look after myself, I did it before he came along and I can do it now.

“I know you got the guys to send me on that mission.”

I cringed and looked up at him, guilt on my face.

“It’s ok, I know I’m, a lot. They told me. I just love you so much and wanted to help. I guess you got too much of ‘Nurse Rogers’ huh?” He smirked slightly, running his hand through my hair.

“I’m sorry.” I mumbled from under the overs, my mouth still hidden.

“Do you need anything? What do you want?”

“I want my boyfriend. Not a Nurse. I want my boyfriend to just lie in bed and watch crappy tv with me.”

He moved to get into bed, but I stopped him, “after he takes his uniform off and takes a shower.”

15 minutes later I was curled into my boyfriend’s side, head on his chest as we watched some baking programme arguing over who’s cake was better. He had one arm round my waist, thumb rubbing soothing circles on my hip and the other running through my hair. It wasn’t long until I was asleep, happily in his arms and already feeling a hell of a lot better.