#like i genuinely enjoy it when a patient makes my job harder for whatever reason

[slechterick]

got prep classes for opthalmology, neurology & psychiatry rn and it's such a stark reminder of how neurology is my personal trickster demon, tempting me with incredibly interesting theory, then devouring my soul with mind-numbingly monotonous practice and an inability to make a difference after most of the diagnoses are made

[greatbigbellies]

Hello! New story commissioned by @wesoftupinhere of their newest OC, Jason the pokemon caretaker. Jason is also a pokemon breeder and will gestate eggs for other trainers, and this short piece involves just that! Contains oviposition, belly rubs, and general slice of life cuteness. Enjoy!

Jason grumbled as his alarm went off and was snoozed for the sixth time that morning. “Fivve… more… m-minutes,” they groaned, their black bangs covering their tightly shut eyes. Their exhaustion was not ill-founded, as anyone who saw them could tell. It was difficult, carrying a 10km egg in your belly, let alone trying to get comfortable with one! He’d had a rough, largely sleepless night, and as it were, a pretty restless morning as well. Unfortunately for Jason, duty called, and it came in the form of four tiny, brown paws pitter pattering up to their bed. 

A small, juvenile Eevee pattered around to the side they were resting on, and jumped up with feline grace, stopping just shy of their face. “Eevaa!” she vocalized, much to Jason’s dismay. “Eevee I’m tired! Can’t you wait for breakfast?” The tiny pokemon patted its paw on Jason’s nose. They were not amused. “That’s not cute,” they lied. It was, in fact, adorable, but they weren’t in the mood.

“Eevoyy!” she replied dutifully. The little creature was hungry, and Jason supplied the food. This was a universal truth, according to the Eevee. Jason gumbled and pulled off his blanket, exposing his massive, eggnant midriff. Their tum looked about the size of a full term triplet pregnancy, and was about as heavy. However, their cargo being a hardshell egg, their tummy was much, much more firm. Jason groaned harder as they slowly rolled into their back, their belly sticking straight up, applying its full weight onto their lower back. 

“Oh GOD I’m so happy you’re hatching today,” they grunted, talking to their belly. The Eevee pawed curiously at the broadside of their eggnant mound, getting a smile from Jason. “There’s a baby pokemon in there, you know. No clue WHAT pokemon, but it could be another Eevee!” they said, “Though it’d be the heaviest Eevee I’ve ever seen…” they lamented. “Eevvvevoy,” the baby Eevee purred, rubbing its face along the side of the belly, not unlike an affectionate cat.

Jason’s sour mood brightened at the affection from the small pokemon, and they rubbed the tips of their fingers in small circles on the sides of their distended tummy. Their skin was warm, and had a little blush from being so stretched. For as many times as they had carried pokemon eggs of different sizes, they never got used to just how firm it made their tummy. Their midriff was so hard and swollen, they wondered if this was what a normal human pregnancy was like?

“E-eevaa!” “Okay okay!” they replied, exasperated. “You could stand to be a little more patient with a pokemon breeder on duty!” they pressed their hands down into the soft, cushy mattress as they leveraged their overburdened body into a sitting position. Their legs bowed slightly to make room for their heavy belly to rest between them. They slowly rotated on their behind to dangle their legs off the side of their bed, steeling themselves for the effort of standing up.

Jason felt a soft thrum of energy emanate from deep in their womb, and they winced. Whatever they were carrying in that egg was VERY strong, and it wanted out. “Soon…” they breathed. They slid their hands around to the front end of their underbelly, and lifted slightly, relieving some of the pressure on their hips and lower back. They sighed at the momentary relief, bobbing their hefty belly up and down.

The Eevee wiggled in place before hopping onto the top shelf of Jason’s belly, so light weight they almost didn’t even feel it. “Eve, eve, eve, eevoy!” said the obstinate pokemon, wanting breakfast more than anything in the world. “Okay! Okay! Jeez,” Jason slid forward, scootching off of the bed onto their bare feet. The floor creaked under their eggnancy weight, and they padded their way toward the kitchen. They stopped for a moment when they passed their body length mirror, admiring just how large they had gotten with this egg. The pokemon caretaker sighed, and patted the sides of their tummy in a mixture of disbelief and pride, the little Eevee still standing on the belly shelf.

She hopped off when she saw her own reflection, gazing into the mirror with wide eyes. Jason laughed, this particular Eevee just really loved her own reflection for some reason. They glanced back at the bare broadside of their tummy, and rubbed a large, sweeping circle across it. They gave their tummy the lightest squeeze, applying gentle pressure to test its firmness. They were well and truly full, and Jason wondered if they would be this firm even if it wasn’t an egg.

They waddled through the doorway into the hall, their belly swaying left to right with their eggnant gait. The baby Eevee scampered after, excitedly exclaiming “Evoy evoy evoy evoy!” with each adorable hop. “Careful down there, I can’t see my feet like this, and I don’t want to smoosh you by accident!” Jason warned, which did not dissuade the clueless pokemon. They grunted as they bent over to pour out food into her bowl, having to push their hands into their lower back to stand up straight again. While Jason couldn’t SEE the pokemon in their care, due to their own massive belly, the muffled crunching was all the confirmation they needed that she was enjoying her meal.

They turned on their heel, their tummy swinging wide as they rotated 180 degrees to waddle back to their bedroom. They had to go get dressed and make some calls, as they were scheduled to hatch their large pokemon egg today, and the effort would leave them pretty drained. Jason had both friends, and fellow pokemon caretakers, who would gladly watch the little Eevee while they released the creature in their belly. They had done the same for them countless times…

They wondered who would commission them to carry an egg next? Their services were highly sought after, and they genuinely loved their job, they just hoped it’d be a smaller egg next time... 

[vanderlindemorgans]

Cross My Heart (Chapter 5)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings: one scene takes place in a hospital, some medical talk, more heavy drinking, talk of death and alcoholism (specifically related to drunk driving), mentions of drug addiction, Whiskey being a dick, lotta heavy topics in general.

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“Alright, so the X-Rays have come back and as you can probably already guess your left arm has been fractured”.

The news hadn’t been a shock to you at all - it was only logical that the result of being thrown off the back of a horse was your arm breaking from the impact of the fall, nevermind the sheer amount of pain that it had already caused you was even more indication that something was definitely wrong there. All things considered, it still wasn’t a pleasant piece of news to receive, causing you to let out a low groan as you settled back into the hospital gurney they had allocated to you after the ambulance had pulled you in. Dressed in only a hospital gown, you felt the chill from the room's air conditioning prick the edges of your skin, the coolness of temperature making the whole experience even more foreign to you. Of course, it wasn’t like you’d never been to a hospital before - an unlucky bout of croup had sent you to the emergency room as a little kid when you’d almost stopped breathing. At the resurgence of that particular memory you felt yourself shudder, recalling the hours spent passed out in a brightly lit room and being forced to drink gross tasting liquid that was meant to clear up your airways. At least you weren’t choking on your own breath this time round. 

“Well that’s just fantastic. How long will it take to heal? I kinda got a ranch to run” you asked the doctor, who was standing off to the side consulting the clipboard nestled against his arm. Sighing, he looked up at you with a look of sympathy while he ran through the information he’d jotted down on his notes. “Usually it takes twelve weeks for fractures to heal - given the fact that a good part of your arm has been displaced you’ll need to be put into surgery to shift the bone back into place, which we’ll have scheduled for you in the next twenty-four hours. Afterwards, I’ll be putting you in a cast for a couple of weeks and you’ll have to come back in for checkups weekly. I’ll also give you a list of rehabilitation exercises you can do to ensure the recovery process goes as smoothly as possible” he explained. “After your surgery and subsequent discharge, I heavily recommend a few days bed rest due to the concussion you have sustained”.  

“So I’m guessing most physical labour is out then” you muttered under your breath, sighing once you realized how heavily this would impact your ability to keep things running smoothly back at the ranch. Yes, you had employees but without you to oversee everything things would slow down and descend into madness real quickly. You wished you had allocated some sort of second in command for times like this, a manager of sorts to keep things in place while you recovered but you’d just never gotten around to it, brushing the thought aside every time it sprung up with a simple “Why would I need extra help anyway? Nothing ever happens around here”. 

“You’d be correct on that. Now, I have some other patients to check on but I will be back in about 20 minutes or so to prep you for surgery, though I will send a nurse to give you some painkillers so you can stop feeling the worst of the pain for at least a little while” he replied. You went to thank him but before you could you felt a light touch graze along your right arm. Your eyes glanced over to where Jack’s hand was placed, his touch delicate and comforting, sparking that same feeling in your chest that you’d felt when he’d stroked your forehead back at the ranch. His eyes met your own for a moment, deep cedar brown looking at you with nothing more than concern and worry, somehow pulling at a single string of your heart even though you wanted to fight against it with all your might.

Snapping you focus back into place, you nodded back over to the doctor and thanked him for all he was doing, listening to his reassurances that he’d have you fixed up as soon as possible as he hurried on out of the room to his next patient in need. Once he was gone, you exhaled in annoyance and went back to staring aimlessly at the ceiling, mulling over the inconvenience of your predicament. 

“Everything ok, sugar?” you heard Jack ask you, feeling his enchanting eyes study your expression, his anxiety over your wellbeing plain as day. Letting out a small laugh, you returned his question with a small smile of your own. “Does it look like I’m ok?” you joked, gesturing vaguely to your fractured arm. 

He chuckled at your sarcasm, always enjoying that certain fire you had to your character that refused to silence itself. Unbeknownst to you, that was one of things that drew him towards you in the first place - his own air of cockiness and confidence was equally matched by your spitfire and sarcastic wit. Finding out the sweet disposition that lay behind that harshness the first time round had taken him by complete surprise, but only did more to endear himself to you. God, he was such a fool for losing that. He was certain that your sweetness was still there, closed behind even more layers of hurt and pain that he’d caused such a large hand in. 

From the moment the ambulance had arrived, Jack had stayed beside you, refusing to leave for even a single moment. It was quite endearing, truth be told, a feeling that attempted to worm its way through your steadfast reasoning against him. He’s a liar. Don’t fall for his shit again, you repeated to yourself. Though it was becoming harder and harder to continue regarding him as your greatest mistake when he was behaving so kindly and gentlemanly towards you. Just a part of his deceptive charm, I guess, you thought bitterly. 

“Y’know, you don’t have to worry about things gettin’ outta hand down at the ranch. I’m more than happy to step up and help” he spoke up, snapping your attention back to his words and out of your own contemplation. You thought about his proposal for a minute, the temptation to say yes seeming very appealing towards you, though somehow that felt like admitting to weakness. The ranch wasn’t his responsibility, it was yours, left to you by your dear parents. It was your obligation to run it in their stead - there’d been difficulties along the way, sure, including the occasional nasty cold every now and then but you had pulled through without any trouble. You didn’t need help or any sort of handout, and you were more than capable of taking care of business by yourself, even with a broken arm.

Then again, it is gonna be kinda hard to run a business while being confined to bed rest. Briefly you thought about just closing the ranch for a couple of days while you got back on track yet once you thought about the loss in profits you discarded that idea quickly. It wasn’t like you were struggling to make ends meet but a dip in profits could cause a bit of issue. 

“Yeah but...It’s my responsibility. I can’t just ignore that because I got a stupid broken arm” you rebuffed, though you didn’t sound entirely convinced of what you were saying yourself. Sadly, stubbornness was your nature and even if you knew you were fighting a losing battle, sometimes it was more about the principle of having a position rather than whatever thing you were debating over. Some would say that was quite a counterproductive way to look at things, and you’d agree with them, yet you still remained stubborn in spite of them, feeding back into the cycle.  

“Darlin’, with all due respect, I think what’s best for you is that you take a step back and let someone else take the reins. You need to allow yourself to rest a lil. Tell me, in all the years of runnin’ the ranch by yourself, have you ever once taken a day off?”. 

“No, but-”.

“Exactly as I thought. You’ve been doing an amazing job at keeping things together for all these years, sweetheart, but you gotta relax a bit. Let me help you” he interrupted, gazing at you with those heart-meltingly sweet eyes of his, a look which made you seize up ever so slightly in minor fake annoyance. Little shit, he had to be doing that on purpose.

“Fine, only if it’ll get you to shut up” you relented, rolling your eyes in a dramatic fashion and hitting your head back down into the pillow below, eliciting a playful smirk from him in return. “That’s my girl, stubborn as always” he jested. 

To that you cocked an eyebrow at him in disbelief. “Your girl? Careful there, Jack, for a minute I thought you were capable of genuine compassion and care. I may have once been your girl, cowboy, but not anymore. Or did you happen to forget?”. 

His own expression softened slightly in regards to your snide remark, his mischievous grin faltering while he turned his gaze to the floor, looking somewhat sheepish towards what you had said, a far cry from his usual air of arrogance. “Yeah, I guess I deserve that” he murmured. “Tell me, sugar, do you ever think one day you’ll believe me when I say that I’m sorry?”. 

“When pigs fly, dearest” you smiled with a shit-eating grin, though you couldn’t miss that momentary flash of hurt in his eyes that made you pull back, a sharp pang striking through your chest that hurt harder than the agonizing ache in your arm, which really, was saying something. Could that be...guilt, perhaps?, you thought, searching Jack’s face for any further sign of offense. If he was feeling hurt, he was doing a pretty stellar job at hiding it. Maybe it was nothing, and even if he was hurt, well, he said it himself, he deserved it. Without giving you another minute to ponder your own feelings, a welcome interruption in the arrival of a nurse found you, shifting your thoughts towards the relief of finally getting some painkillers into you. 

___

The surgery had gone over well, and after a grueling day spent hanging out in that hospital room hopped up on painkillers you were finally discharged late afternoon the following day. The worst of your concussion had cleared itself up too yet you were still confined to your bed for those first few days - the doctor was insistent on that fact, saying you could never be too careful. You’d begrudgingly complied, not wanting to cause any further problems to your health, and even if you had tried to go against the doctor’s orders, you knew that Jack would be there to send you off back to bed if you dared lift a finger. 

Jack had doted on you the entire time, making sure you were well hydrated and cool enough in the midst of the hot Texas summer, fetching you snacks and whatever else you needed from downstairs. In his own words, what kind of man would he be if he didn’t take care of an ailing woman. You’d rolled your eyes and insisted that he didn’t have to go all out with looking after you yet he’d insisted. It was somewhat heartwarming, and it felt nice to be taken care of again after those last few years alone. It reminded you of when you’d come down with the flu back in third grade, staying home in bed lazily watching television and barely being able to keep your eyes open while your mum made soup in the kitchen. You could feel your heart drop at the mere recollection of your parents, pain that stayed beneath the surface rising up in full force. Usually you pushed those feelings down, not wanting to become distracted from the business, but today, you allowed yourself the indulgence of missing them. What would they think if they could see you now? Would they be proud, or disappointed? 

Feeling your stomach grumble, you shifted over in bed and reached your only good arm out to grab onto the half-eaten grilled cheese Jack had brought in for you five minutes before, letting out a low wince at the pain that writhed through your other arm, which had been placed into a cast and sling for the time being. Already you couldn’t wait for the day you could get the damned thing taken off - you hadn’t been able to shower and you felt grotty and gross. It wasn’t like you had to impress anyone, it was just you and Jack lying about the place. Still, you could only take so many days of waking up with unwashed greasy hair. And it was itchy too. Oh dear god, it was fucking itchy. You’d heard about how itchy the plaster could get second-hand but you never anticipated it to be that bad. 

Directing your eyes to the clock on your bedside, you took notice of the time and let out a small relieved sigh. You could finally take another one of those painkillers, the fourth and dismally last one for you of the day. 

Your relief quickly fizzled out into disappointment when you realised the packet of painkillers that had been sitting by your bedside was empty. “Seriously? It’s only been a few days, I couldn’t have gone through them already…” you muttered to yourself in annoyance. Nevermind, there was another packet downstairs. You may have been perfectly capable of getting out of bed and retrieving it yourself, though you found yourself not wanting to be bothered with such a task. “Hey Jack, you there? I ran out of painkillers, could ya run some up to me?” you called out.

“Sure thing, sweetheart” you heard him shout back, and no more than two minutes later he was striding through your bedroom door, carrying exactly what you had requested within his palms. “How are you feelin’?” he asked. 

“No better than six minutes ago when you last asked me that. Thanks for bringing these up though, fuck that stupid horse for bucking me off” you grumbled, sniping the blessed white packet out of his hands and into your fingers. “Pain making you grumpy, sweet girl? You seem a bit more full of spitfire than usual today” he joked. 

“Nah, you’re getting the discounted version today. If I wanted to vocalise exactly what I was feeling right now you’d be obliterated in a second” you laughed, chucking a tablet into your mouth and washing it down with a large gulp of water, anxious to feel some semblance of relief. 

“You don’t say. How’s your head doing, though? No dizziness or anything like that?”. 

“I’m fine, Jack, I promise. You don’t have to fawn all over me just because I broke my dumb arm” you assured, rolling your eyes at him. 

“I wouldn’t call in fawning, I only want to make sure you're comfortable and all that. Not only because of your arm and all” he smiled gently, reaching out to brush a stray hair off your forehead. It could have been the heat of the room but you could have sworn your skin felt on fire the moment he touched you. You could feel him press the back of his fingers against your head, unconsciously allowing your breath to hitch at his touch. And just like that, the warmth of his hand was gone, leaving an invisible searing mark in its place and your own head full of frenzied and confused thoughts. 

“Like I said earlier, just call out if you need anything else, alright darlin’?” he said as he was leaving, words that you didn’t care to take notice of as he left you to yourself again. Blinking slowly, you couldn’t even fully begin to describe what had just taken place, or why one little gesture was throwing your mind into somersaults. Why did his mere touch have to affect you like that? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Groaning loudly, you settled yourself underneath the sheet covering you and huffed at nobody in particular, cursing both yourself and him for even existing. For fucks sake...

___

Taking a sip of bourbon from your glass, you leaned against the side of the stairs of the veranda with your gaze fixated off into the distance, though you didn’t take any notice of what lay ahead, lost deep in your own thoughts that clouded your mind. It’d been a couple more days, and you’d finally been able to get out of bed and get back to helping out around the ranch - not that you were still of any use to anyone, given the state of your arm. It felt good to be back overseeing things, albeit a bit more behind the scenes than you had been in years. It’d be a good month or so before you were able to move your arm properly and have things back to normal. At first that fact did nothing short of irritating you, since you weren’t one to lie about helpless when work needed to be done. Over the last few days though, seeing the ranch go about with business as usual with Jack’s extra help had put you at ease a little. It still bothered you somewhat that you had to be asking any sort of help from Jack Daniels of all people, though really, he was the one offering it in the first place so you hadn’t so much as asked him to do anything, moreso conceding to his instistance at the behest of your stubbornness. 

The pain was getting a little better too, though whether that had more to do with the painkillers or not remained to be seen. For example, you couldn’t feel anything now but you had just ingested two glasses of pure straight bourbon, so of course any type of pain would be numbed. Remember when it could numb more than just that? You let out a small snicker at the thought, sounding as hollow and empty as it felt. Once upon a time you might have been classed as relatively lightweight, a fact that changed after years of the trials and tribulations life had thrown your way. You still got drunk easy, but it took a good few glasses before you actually passed out.

“You know, you should let me sign that for ya”. 

Hearing that familiar voice ring out from behind you, you swivel around so see its owner standing right in the opened doorway of your home, his hands casually resting in his pockets and his frame leant against the wall. “What are we, in middle school? I don’t want it getting dirty” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him for good measure. 

He smirked right back at you, letting out a small snicker that mirrored your own. “Why not? It’s not like you're gonna have to be wearin’ it forever. A little scribble in permanent marker wouldn’t do ya any harm” Jack grinned, taking a large step forward to descend down to your level, seating himself right next to you on the veranda. You cocked an eyebrow at him, letting your fingertips trail over the edge of the glass in your hands while you stared at him with utter audacity. “And yet I know you’re only so persistent in signing it because you’ll write something crude or vaguely flirty” you snipped. 

“How little you think of me, sugar. I’d never dream of doin’ such a thing. I am nothing if not a gentleman”. 

“Oh, do cut the charm, Jack. What is it you want?”.

“Please, can’t a man share a glass of bourbon with a lady without being subjected to the Spanish Inquisition?” he asked, wearing his devilish and frustratingly charming grin as he spoke, the appearance of which you swore made your cheeks flush a little bit hotter. Probably because of the alcohol...and it is hot out here after all...

“Not this lady, cowboy” you stated, gulping down the last dredges of bourbon in your glass and placing it back down to the floor with a thud. You went to go grab the bottle from beside you but found Jack had already snatched it up, pouring you another glass. Mumbling out a small thank you, you considered asking him if he wants a glass of his own, however once you caught sight of his silver Statesman issued flask in his hands you dismissed the idea entirely. With nothing else left to say, you glanced back up to the sky above towards where the moon was hanging over you two, the delicate light illuminating the stretches of countryside around your property in a soft glow, one that was both enchanting and eerie at the same time. Every now and then you would be reminded of how beautiful the Texan countryside could look, whether it be bathed in the rays of that damned blistering sun or the enigmatic glimmer of moonlight. It could pull you back to moments lost in time, years ago sitting right where you were in that very same spot, seven years younger and with the exact same man sitting beside you, head rested on his shoulder and looking out into the vast expanse of midnight black. Funny how things change, don’t they?

Out the corner of your eye you saw Jack shake his head, his eyes quiet, the sparkle of stark confidence bordering on plain arrogance missing. It was a similar look to the one he’d given you at the hospital that night, before he’d tried to cover it up with a certain facade of indifference. “What will it take for you to believe I’m sorry? What happened between us, it was all-” he started before being unceremoniously cut off by your interjection. 

“In the past? I’m well aware of that. Doesn’t change how I feel” you stopped him. You’d anticipated him throwing out that line from day one and you’d come prepared. Shut it down. Don’t let him try to swindle you for a fool. 

His expression changed to one more serious, a hint of him being slightly miffed that you cut him off in the first place. “Let me finish, darlin’. I’m gonna level with you for a second - what I did to you was one of the worst mistakes of my life. Letting everything fall apart like it did, I never should have let it happen” he expressed, his tone straddling between being firm and also being gentle. Cocking an eyebrow at him, you turned back to your glass of liquor, swirling the liquid around idly in a way that reminded you of that persistent thought running round your head. Did he have a point? Were you being too harsh on him? 

Don’t become soft on him. Don’t do it. You shifted back into focus, pushing those thoughts far to the back of your tipsy mind while you took a couple large sips of liquor as if it were a lifeline. “Worse than whatever mistake led you to showing up on my doorstep?” you asked, eager to direct the conversation right back out of that uncomfortable territory and into something a bit more easier to stomach. Maybe later on you could ponder the true depths of your perceptions of Jack. Right now, though, you wanted to get wasted and not have to think about anything anymore. And hey, it’s not like I wasn’t wondering about the events that led him here in the first place anyway.“You never did tell me what happened. I know you said it was none of my concern but...I want to know. Call it a spate of drunken curiosity, if ya want”. 

The question alone was enough to draw Jack’s face from being merely serious to an expression more cold and distant. He looked away from you entirely and rested his gaze to the few steps below the two of you, his hand clenching in a subconscious act that alone was enough to tell you his own reservations regarding the topic. “Truth is, I’ve been fucking things up for a good couple of years. What happened to lead me here, well, it ain’t a pretty story”. 

“I don’t care, Jack, I wanna know” you asserted, surging with a sense of fiery confidence. It might have been the alcohol giving you a bit more moxie to push the topic. One thing was for sure though: you wanted answers, and you didn’t wanna let this go. Stretching your legs out, you finished off the glass you had while you waited for him to reply, not wanting to cave to your request even if he was looking at you like you’d threatened to kill the President. 

Finally, he let out a low groan of annoyance and leant against the side of the veranda, not affording you a single look as he launched into his tale. “Basically what happened is some agents from an English based secret service came over to the states as a last resort - their base got blown up by someone and the two guys that approached us were the only ones left alive. Well, them and this other guy we had at our headquarters, but that’s a whole other story. The people behind the attack were a group called the Golden Circle, and Statesman had already been investigating them for awhile. I was called in by Champ to partner up with the Kingsman fellas, do the regular secret agent spiel of espionage and savin’ the world and all that crap. But, me and these other agents, we had an...ideological disagreement. I was covertly tryin’ to hinder them until the older guy got wise to my shit and shot me in the head. Ginger managed to bring me in and revive me, I went over to Cambodia where the two agents were confronting the leader of the Golden Circle, and to make a long story short things got nasty pretty quickly. I barely escaped with my life” he explained.

You nodded along to his explanation, the load of information being a lot to take in the first time round. You were always somewhat aware of Jack’s position as a secret agent though you were never privy to the nitty and gritty details - in fact, the way you’d found out about it in the first place was by complete accident and Jack had to beg Agent Champ to allow you to become cleared on even knowing the basics of his true work behind the front of being a Statesman investor. “And these ideological disagreements were…?” you pushed. 

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know” he deflected.

“Try me”.

He didn’t reply to you straight away, instead staring at you with a stark look of confliction across his face, an inner turmoil brewing inside of him on whether or not he should tell you even more. Being cast out as a traitor, he didn’t have to worry about breaking any sort of rule of confidentiality, so if you had to wager a guess at what his dilemma was, then it must have been that he felt mildly ashamed, or even embarrassed about the whole situation. In your mind though, you’d let him keep his secrets for weeks now, but if he was going to stay in your house you wanted to at the bare minimum know what he did that was so bad that he simply couldn’t return back home anymore.  “Well go on then, hit me with your best shot” you prodded further, hopefully enough to get his demeanour to crack and for him to spill what exactly the entire fuss had been about. And sure enough, crack he did. 

Running a hand across his forehead, he let out a low exasperated sigh, one that would have been inaudible if you hadn’t been seated beside him, indicating the exact moment he finally decided to break his own silence and reveal everything to you. “The Golden Circle were primarily a drug cartel and terrorist organization based out in the hidden depths of the Cambodian jungle. Their leader had devised a plot that involved lacing their distribution of drugs with a new type of chemical she created that caused death. Since their supply was mass distributed over the globe, they were holding the entire populace of drug users and addicts hostage to their respective governments, demanding a payout for the antidote. They didn’t, however, anticipate the President and other world leaders not really giving a red hot shit about the lives of junkies. Being the noble men they are, the Kingsman agents as well as the rest of Statesman were striving to get ahold of the antidote to save all those people. And that, is where me and them disagreed” Jack elaborated, avoiding your gaze in what appeared to be a calculated move in order to refrain from seeing your reactions to his admittance. In the span of two minutes, your expression had shifted from intense curiosity to straight up bafflement at what he was saying. It didn’t make sense - why was he against distributing the antidote? He was a secret agent, wasn’t he meant to save the world and innocent lives and all that?

“Let me get this straight - you were assigned on a mission to try to save the lives of innocent people, and you chose...not to do that” you asked, your tone laced with judgment. Not that you had intended for what you said to have come across any different. If what he was implying was right, then that would mean...

“Well, when you put it like that, sure, it sounds awful. I will concede, it wasn’t my best move. But all the people who ingested those drugs did so willingly. They knew they were taking a gamble on their lives the moment they stuck a damn needle into their arms” Jack grumbled defensively, allowing you to gawk back at him in utter disbelief. “Jack, no, you can’t seriously believe that? So what you’re saying is that the kid that decided to get high with his mates one weekend at a party deserves to die? Is that right?”. 

“No, no, I didn’t mean like that, I just…”.

“Really? ‘Cause it sounds a lot like you’re saying that innocent people should die for their poor choices” you cut in, shaking your head to further drive your point in. “Jesus, just when I thought you couldn’t be a bigger asshole you proved me wrong”. 

“Sweetheart, please, I know. It was a mistake, you don’t have to keep rubbing it in”. 

“You know it’s a mistake, but do you truly feel it? Do you really feel remorse? Because if you don’t then it’s just a bunch of empty words” you rebuffed, shooting him with a cold piercing glare that could make an entire continent freeze over. Around about this time, you really began to take notice of the dazed feeling clouding you, every glass of liquor draining straight into your brain and making you feel like your entire head was swimming. Maybe take it easy on the next glass, why don’t ya? With that thought, you shoved the glass off to the side with your free arm and bit your lip, debating whether or not you should even say what you wanted to next. That debate, however, did not last very long as you found yourself blurting out exactly what was on your mind within two seconds of your last thought. “Jack, look...maybe I’ll hate myself for saying this later, and maybe it’s just the liquor talking but I don’t think you’re an inherently bad person. I think you’re an arrogant son of a bitch who does cruel stupid things but probably has a decent enough heart. You just...you gotta stop with this shit. Stop with the betrayals, and the lies, and the false promises, all of it, and just be the real you. The Jack I knew may be a prick but he was never one to let an innocent die on his watch. What’s really behind all this?”. 

He continued to glare from his position beside you, somewhat intent on making you recant and drop the whole subject entirely. You wouldn’t go down that easy though, and he knew it, for as stubborn as Jack was you were at least ten times moreso, so when he folded first and trained his eyes low to the ground, you knew that he’d finally conceded. You could feel a whole shift in his demeanour from where you sat, the mask of defensive anger slowly falling away to reveal what was truly underneath: hurt. Pure, raw, unbridled hurt. Anguish that felt especially familiar to you and spoke to a part of yourself that you’d been turning away from for years, and even before he said those words you knew exactly what he was going to say. 

“Years ago, before I became an agent to Statesman, I was married to the young woman I’d fallen for in high school. I think I told you about her in passing maybe once, or twice, I don’t know…” Jack started, trailing off once he began to fully re-immerse himself in the past, heartache plainly sewn across his features. It was then that you felt an ache of your own in your chest, a heavy feeling of guilt descending upon you once you realised the gravity of what he was saying. “I remember. You said her name was Lily, wasn’t it?” you murmured, your voice small and unsure, with a hint of something else present too. Regret? Guilt? Whatever it was, you couldn’t quite put a name to it, but it was there, strong as anything and clearly wasn’t going away any time soon. 

Jack let out a small hum in reply, everything about his composure presumably a million miles away from everything around the both of you.“So you do remember” he muttered, brushing his fingers over the edge of his silver flask that he had cradled in his handles, tracing the Statesman logo engraved on the side with the pad of his thumb. “I remember you askin’ me about her the first time you came back to my apartment in New York - you saw the photo of her I kept on my desk and asked who she was. I only told you briefly that she was long gone, but I never told you how. The both of us were only twenty-three, and she was pregnant with our first child, a baby boy. Last time I saw her she left the house to go to the convenience store a few streets over”. He stopped himself for a split second, the darkness of his eyes being the all-too recognisable sign of falling deep into his own recollection, feeling as if he was reliving every memory that he revisited in his mind. “Twenty minutes later I get a phone call from a cop, saying there’d been an incident. Meth addicts had robbed the store at gunpoint and she’d been caught in the crossfire. She died instantly, and I wasn’t there to say goodbye. I never got to meet our baby boy, I never got to hold her in my arms again and say how much I loved her, because she was taken from me by a couple of meth-addled scumbags”. 

You were honestly at a loss for words, not knowing if saying something would be the appropriate option or not. He was right, you knew he was married before - the time with the picture that he mentioned was the most you had heard of her. He never brought Lily up again, and you never thought to ask, since in your mind it wasn’t any of your business who Jack loved before. Now, the pieces were falling into place, the interwoven connections of his past to his actions as an agent making all the more sense to you. 

What you wanted to do most was lean forward and envelop him into your embrace, tell him that you understood more than anyone what exactly that felt like, and even permit yourself to pour out your own heart to him. Drunk as you were though, you couldn’t talk yourself into doing anything more than placing a reassuring hand on his knee, letting your touch be soft and hesitant in case he shrugged you off, since you did basically just goad him into revealing his own wounds in the name of having answers. “Jack, I...I had no idea, I-”. 

“How could you have known? I never told you” he mumbled flatly. In the dim veranda light, all though it was faint, you could swear that there was a teardrop lingering in the corner of his cedar brown eyes, nudging the dagger of guilt further into your heart. Say something, you idiot.

Starting off softly, you let your hand rest firmer on his knee, trying to catch his eyes into your own. Tearing his glance away from the flask, he looked back at you with the same raw grief that you had seen on your own face so many times. “I know it must have hurt like hell losing her. And you have every right to feel angry, and hurt that she was taken, but that doesn’t give you the right to hate. Every addict in the world is not the same man who took her life. You can’t just-” you started, before the sound of Jack’s harshest tone cut through your words like a knife. 

“How would you know? Do you have any idea what it feels like to hurt, to have lost everything because of someone else’s choices?” he spat, anger seething in his scowl that was directed solely at you. It had taken you by surprise at first - as a reflex you withdrew your hand quickly from him as if he were burnt, perplexed at his sudden outburst. That didn’t last long however, as soon enough confusion was replaced by your own flair of anger. Now it was your turn to get defensive.“I think I do know what it’s like to hurt and to lose. In case you’ve forgotten, dickhead, there’s two people who should be right inside this house that aren’t anymore and haven’t been for about six fucking years now!” you yelled back. 

Shit. He’d forgotten about your parents. The anger that had been in him disappeared without a trace right then, being replaced by something close to resembling remorse over his behaviour. “I...I didn’t mean...fuck, sugar, I…I’m sorry. I don’t even know what to say” he apologised. You didn’t say anything back to him. You didn’t want to dignify him with any sort of a response. First of all, how dare he? You were only trying to empathise with him, and here he was biting your head off for daring to suggest that he doesn't hate every drug user on the planet. Why do I even fucking bother? 

The awkward silence between you hung for awhile, the two of you not wanting to break it for your own different reasons. You could feel Jack stealing glances at you, like he was trying to talk himself into saying something but never had the courage to follow through. Huffing to yourself, you took in your next glass fast enough to make your head spin. You’d have to turn in for the night eventually, and truth be told you were considering doing so right then when you heard Jack speak up. 

“I never did ask...if you don’t mind me askin’ that is...what happened to your folks anyway?” he asked hesitantly, as if he knew the question was fat-witted to begin with. Not that you minded too much by then. Drunk you was a lot more forgiving than you were sober. 

Taking in a heavy breath, you relayed your tale of woe to him, one hand placed steady to your side to keep you sitting upright. “It was late, and they were coming back from a friend’s 50th birthday party. Their friend lived in downtown Dallas, so they had a fair way to go to get from there to here. When they were almost on the highway, an out-of-control car barrelled towards them, smashing into the front of their windscreen and killing both of them instantly. The driver of the other car had been drinking - according to the local news he was a known alcoholic and had been out having a heated argument with his friend in the passenger seat. The only survivor of the entire collision had been his friend”. 

You saw Jack blink at you in silent shock, the weight of your words falling heavily on him while he continued to process it all. “Shit, darling, I feel like an even bigger piece of shit than I already did. If you slapped me clean across the face and kicked me out on my ass after this I wouldn’t blame ya one bit” he replied to you solemnly in a way that didn’t leave you questioning the authenticity of his words - he was genuinely sorry this time round. Taking his apology in stride, you shrugged back at him  and acted as nonchalant about the whole thing as possible, not wanting to ponder the topic further. As far as you were concerned, you’d felt enough things for one day and would very much like a break from it all. 

“It’s fine. You had no way of knowing. But please, if you take anything from this, at least listen to my words: externalising hate towards random people only feeds your trauma. It doesn’t resolve anything, and the only person left suffering in the end is yourself”. 

He furrowed his brow at you, most likely feeling a little defensive that the topic had circled back around to here, but considering his unruly display of anger earlier he wasn’t one to indulge in his own instinctual need to defend his position. “But...didn’t you want the man who took your parents away to suffer? Didn’t you look at every other drunk driving incident in the papers with a little more anger and rage than before?” he asked, earning a single eyebrow raise from you in return. “I mean...I guess what I’m trying to say is...it’s so easy to hate...why didn’t you fall into that trap?”. 

“Well, I did, for a little. It was almost tempting to look at every person I saw struggling with alcoholism in red. Since the man who caused the collision was already dead as a result of his own mistakes, at times I’d externalise part of that pain I was feeling onto others, and sometimes that anger became so hot and so burning that it was almost impossible to ignore. I realised pretty quickly that hating alcoholics wasn’t going to bring my parents back and that I’d have to make peace with their passing at some point. Honestly, I still haven’t processed a lot of that shit myself yet I’m still out here living my life as best I can, and really, with my own drinking habits I’d be a goddamn hypocrite to even try to find any true hatred in my heart towards heavy drinkers” you explained. Taking one last sip of bourbon, you discarded your glass off to your side and chuckled lightheartedly. “God, If I drink another glass I’m gonna collapse on the fucking floor. Think it might be time for me to turn in for the night. At least it’s Sunday tomorrow so we can sleep in a lil”.

“Y-you’re goin’ to bed? You’re not telling me to get lost or anything?” Jack sputtered in disbelief, which in turn earned him a minorly strange look from you. “Why would I do that?” you asked. 

“I quite literally just admitted to treason against my former organization to you”. 

“So? You made a mistake. A pretty fucking big mistake, and a shitty one at that, but still, a mistake. You obviously have some of your own pain you need to work through, and I can get that. Doesn’t mean I agree with what you did, but I get it. I’m not gonna kick you to the curb just because you have issues”.Upon saying that, you hoisted yourself up by latching your free arm onto the veranda’s fenceline, stumbling a little as you fought to maintain your balance while being both drunk and unable to fully utilise one of your arms. Nevertheless, you’d managed to straighten yourself up, and once you’d determined that you were alright to take yourself upstairs you faced on towards the front door and grasped at the brass knob in your hands, taking a brief pause to turn back and nod softly towards the man behind you. “Night Jack, I’ll see ya tomorrow” you called out, leaving him to sit there and watch you disappear back into the house with a certain look of dumbfounded astonishment.

Tag list (lemme know if you wanna be added): @giselatropicana​

[devilbat]

Quarantine Online

A/N: sorry I have been MIA for months now. A lot has going on in my life and Depression sucks, making it hard to write, so forgive me.

Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Warnings: Just fluff

Summery: dating is hard it's even harder when a Pandemic happens.. 

     The picture you stared at only showed a well-toned lean body in a well-tailored suit. Most of the photographs showed the same, never his face. His name was Tom 39 years old, living in London. Though he dose travels a lot for work. Shakespeare fanatic, runner, enjoys cooking, long walks with his dog when he's not running and lots and lots of dancing. Six foot one, six foot two on a good day. Who was testing the waters out there, but will be the perfect gentleman and very respectful.

        His profile stated as you looked through it. He had messaged you right as you thought about giving up once again. Everyone on these dating apps only wanted one of two things. Nudes or sex nothing more. No connection, no relationship, not even a friendship. Sure, you were offered friends with benefits.

That was something you were not looking for. Did it not state in your profile that you weren't going to do any of that. Do men even read?

       The few dates you have gone on all ended up a bust. Then the quarantine happened right as you were getting yourself out there. So it was conversations via text. But soon you were ghosted far too many times because you wouldn't send nude.

        You were all about to shut down your account when this man named Thomas H. sent you a message. You weren't even sure why you click on the email from this man without a face. Here you were reading what he had to say.

       Y/n,

           My name is Thomas, but naturally, I go by Tom. I'm sure you might not even respond to this as there is no face to this profile. With my job and for my privacy would be one of many reasons why. But I thought I might give it a shot. And I have to say I'm quite mesmerized by your beauty. You are quite lovely, and I'm sure you get that a lot. But I genuinely mean it. I was a bit fascinated by your profile as I read it, might have had chucked at a few bits of it. I would like to know more about you.

       Like what type of nerd are you? Marvel or DC?

Star Wars or Star Trek? And of course, I'll answer any questions you might have for me. As well I would not ask for any pictures of you clothed or nude as I would like to get to know you as I'm hoping you wouldn't mind getting to know me without the nudes as you put it. Ehehe.

     I genuinely hope to hear from you. But understand if I don't.

Sincerely, Tom.

    Ps, I do hope this quarantine hasn't made you gone completely bonkers.

       Usually, you wouldn't have responded, but something about him told you not to pass this up. What was the worst that could happen that already hasn't happened on an online dating app? Well, there was always the fact he could be a serial killer.

       Hello Tom,

    You may have messaged me in time I was about to give up on this site and return to my habit.  Marvel all the way. I would hope you would agree or we can't continue talking. Though, I can't deny that DC needs to just stop with Batman movies. The should have stopped before George Clooney. Though I will give Christian Bale props, he did a better job than Clooney.

         As for Star Wars and Star Trek? That is a tough one, so I'm just going to say both are good. But let's face it. Captain Kirk is the better star fleet Captain. Sure Picard is excellent as well. But anyone after them just doesn't do it for me. Ha ha..

     And it's all about Baby Yoda. If you are not a baby Yoda fan, you're just wrong. Yes, I'm one of "those" girls.

Coffee or Energy drinks? I would say I dabbled in both. Pancakes or waffles? Yes, there is a difference. I'm a waffle girl myself. Well, that is all I can think of right now.

Y/n.

You hit send before setting your phone down on the table next to you as you yawned. Maybe it was an early bedtime, not like you had anything better to do. You puddled around your usual routine before bed. A loud ding brought you back to your phone.

"That was quick." Recognizing the chim of the app all too well. Grebing your phone, forgetting your face cream as you were curious about what he had to say—settling into bed, getting comfortable before you opened your phone.

Y/n,

I'm delighted to hear from you. If I'm quite bold, and for starters, its tea for me. With two sugars and a splash of cream. As for waffles or pancakes, I'm French toast kind of man, duh. Lol. Though you can't beat a good old fashion English Breakfast and a side of Earl gray. Eheh.

I'm quite a fan of marvel though it is a rather vast universe. What movies/comics praytell do you prefer?

Sorry love to disappoint, but I'm going to say Doctor Who I am British. The tenth and the eleventh doctor. I do hope you've seen the show. I used to watch the reruns of the original with my father when I was a young wide eye lad. I am a fan of both Star Wars and Star Trek. And there is nothing wrong with liking a baby Yoda. He is exceedingly loveable.

          It says your new to England, where are you from originally? How long have you've been here? Seen any of the sights England has to offer?

       That's all for now.

Sincerely, Tom.

          Emails went on for weeks talking back and forth first on the dating app than via text. You were the one to leap by giving him your number. After hitting send your phone vibrated with a text.

         Unknown number: Hello love, this is Tom. I'm delighted to receive your text.

        More weeks had passed. Still, you had yet to see his face though he did send you photos of random things during the day. You did the same as your toes sticking out from the bubble bath. Then you got a text of his toes sticking out from under the blankets. The two of you would watch a movie together. The quarantine was still in effect. Each of you would pick a film out every other weekend and sit back and watch it—text throughout the movie.

          Y/n: Omg did she just run up the stairs like a dumb big boobed bimbo!!! She makes the rest of us look bad.

Tom: Eheh, you said it darling, not me. Though I think she might survive this.

Y/n: Wanna make a beat? I think she will die within the next few minutes.

Tom: Oh, it's on. Now, what do I get if I win?

Y/n: Whatever it is you want cause mister you are going to lose.

You both patiently wanted to see what happens next. The movie ended, and you waited in annoyance for Tom to respond to gloat about being right. And to see what he desired for his spoils of war.

Tom: Well, Love, it looks like I have won this round.

Y/n: It seems you have butthead. What is it that the winner wishes for?

Tom: Did you just call me a butthead? Eheh. Hmm, let's see. How about a Skype date? I figured it was about time to reveal myself.

Y/n: Tom, I just meet you. I'm not sure I'm ready to see your eggplant. Haha.

Tom: I probably should have rephrased that better. My face love, my face. Eheh. Tomorrow at 7 pm?

Nervous was an understatement. You had cleaned your whole flat even if you were going to stay on the couch, laptop resting on a large pillow setting on your coffee table. You sat playing with your hair, unsure if you wanted it up or down. A chim from your computer startled you from straightening out your dress you finally had settled on. Soon a well-tailored suited chest came on screen.

       "Hold on, darling, trying to adjust this blood screen." The deep British, very attractive yet somehow familiar voice rang through the computer speakers. You only assumed it belongs to Tom.

           You watched the man attempting to fiddle with the view, cursing ever so quietly. Making you giggle relaxing a little bit more. Your laughing came to an abrupt halt when Tom's face came into Focus. Your jaw dropped. And now the unmistakable "ehehe" came in to play as you stared at none other the most eligible bachelor in England none other than loki himself Tom Hiddleston.

           "Darling, I think your drooling." Tom teased point to the side of his clean, shaved face. Tom fidgeted with his now raven-colored hair.

          "Oh, I-I," You stammered out, trying to compose yourself.

           "Didn't see this coming did you?" Tom smiled, wetting his lips with that blasted tongue of his.

           "Well, no. I wasn't expecting Tom

Hiddleston."

           "Is that a bad thing?" Tom spoke up.

           "Oh, no, no. I would be an idiot to say it was. Hey, wait a minute. I've told you that, that, that. Shit." You muttered.

          "That I was your hall pass if given a chance. Eheh. Well, it looks like you'll have had wasted your hall pass privileges. You only get one and can't use it on someone if you are already seeing them."

        "You know, sir, you are still a butthead." You stuck out your tongue at the man.

        "You do like calling me that. Why are you calling me a butthead this time?" Tom grinned.

              Your time with Tom was extraordinary, the two of you talked throughout most of the night. He told you things you never knew about the actor every woman pined over. Here you were, the one woman out of a billion he seems to fancy.

           "Well, love." Tom cooed as he watched you try not to nod off to sleep. "I should let you sleep."

         "I'm sorry." You muttered sleepily.

          "Do not apologize, my dear. I should be the one to apologize I've kept you up most of the night.” Tom smiled softly. He watched as you rub your eyes, a shy smile softly graced your lips. Making Tom’s heart flutter.

”Perhaps, my dear, would you like to meet for coffee at the cafe that opened back up?” Tom hummed in high hopes.

”Hmm, I don't know.” You smiled, trying hard to look like you were contemplating though you were going to say yes. To hell with this virus, it was Tom Hiddleston asking you to coffee.

”I mean, I'll wear a mask and stay six feet if needed.” Tom added quickly.

”No, no, there is no need for that. I don't mind unless you feel like it's needed.” You pipped up—Tom grind like a fool shaking his head no.

[doc-pickles]

right where you left me

I think this is the fastest I’ve ever finished a two part series haha. I honestly thought I was done Saturday but decided to add some more to it and the whole thing ended up being almost 9K words so.... I hope you guys enjoyed this! I had a lot of requests for this fic and I really enjoyed writing it :) and if you need it here’s a link to part one

Sunday 10:38 AM

You two doing good?

doing fine, just a little tired

Need me to bring anything by? I’m off at 2

I think we’re okay, i’ll text if I think of anything

thank you :)

No problem. Talk soon.

Sunday 11:15 AM

I’m going to grab a late lunch. Do you want anything?

Sunday 11:52 AM

Heading into surgery, shouldn’t be too long.

Sunday 1:47 PM

About to head out.

Sunday 2:08 PM

Missed Call from Alex

Sunday 2:15 PM

Missed Call from Alex

Sunday 2:22 PM

You okay? I’m getting worried

Sunday 2:39 PM

On my way over.

Sunday 2:45 PM

Missed Call from Alex

Jo is exhausted if she's honest with herself. At six months pregnant she’d thought that things would get easier from here on out, but she’d been foolishly wrong. She’d been dealing with a nasty resurgence of her morning sickness the past three days and her once abounding second trimester energy had now dwindled down to practically nothing. After leaving work the day before she’d barely gotten out of bed, only leaving the warm blankets to go to the bathroom or grab a snack.

She’s laying in bed, finally settled down after another bout of morning sickness, when the door to the loft slides open loudly. She ignores it at first, knowing it’s probably Alex coming to check on her, but she bolts up from her position in bed when he starts practically screaming.

“Jesus Christ Jo! I thought you were dead, you can’t reply to a text or pick up your damn phone,” Alex is clearly frantic as he paces the loft, barely acknowledging Jo’s presence. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“I’m sick Alex, I’ve either been asleep or throwing up since I texted you,” Jo’s voice had an edge to it as she stared Alex down. “And I don’t need you coming in here and trying to guilt trip me or whatever this is.”

“I’m not trying to guilt trip you, I’m trying to make sure you and our kid aren’t dead!”

“Well now that you know we aren’t you can leave Alex. You probably wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Meredith getting sick,” Jo could feel her anger boiling as she looked at Alex. She knew her words were a low blow, but her anger and her hormones won out as she continued to yell at him. “I am more than capable of taking care of myself and our son without you constantly keeping tabs on us. That’s not your job anymore, you’re not my husband! You’re just the guy who knocked me up and then left for three months after telling me for years that you would never leave. You left and you weren’t coming back and the only reason you did is because I’m pregnant. If I wasn’t then you wouldn’t be here acting like you care… Do you think I don’t realize that? I get it, I’m nothing to you anymore and you’re only here for the baby. Well your son is fine and I’m fine too so please just get out.”

There was a moment of silence as Jo and Alex stared at each other, her eyes alight with anger and frustration. She settled herself back into bed with her back facing the door, holding her breath until she heard the door to the loft slide shut again and Alex’s footsteps retreat downstairs. When she finally released the breath she had been holding, a shaking round of tears followed it.

She didn’t know if she believed the words she’d spat at Alex, at one point she did but now she wasn’t so sure. He’d shown her over and over that he genuinely cared for her outside of his parental responsibilities to their son, even if he had left her behind. In truth, no matter how many therapy sessions she went to or how much her and Alex talked things out there was still a gaping hole in her chest created by the man she loved. She’d work through it, she always did, but right now all she wanted was sleep.

-

She sleeps for three hours, the longest stretch in the past few days that she’s been able to manage without throwing up. When she finally wakes her stomach is growling at her which almost makes her roll her eyes because she hasn’t been able to keep anything down lately. Jo slowly rolls out of bed and heads to the kitchen to find something to eat, but instead stops at the sight of her dining table.

There’s a large bouquet of tulips, her favorite flowers, along with ginger ale, soup, and her favorite snacks. Next to that she spots the tiniest blue striped onesie she’s ever seen, the sight bringing tears to her eyes. As she scans the spread once more, she grabs the card on the flowers and reads the barely legible writing.

Jo,

I’m sorry for the past few months. I know I’ve put you through hell but I’m trying my hardest to make it up to you and I promise I won’t stop trying. I’m a better man because of you and I hope I can be that man for you and our son.

Alex

Wiping up her tears, Jo grabs her car keys and heads down to her car. She knows she probably looks a hot mess but she drives the few blocks to Alex’s apartment anyways, barely noticing the thick sheets of rain that soak her thin pajamas as she bolts from her car into the brick building.

When Alex opens the door, she knows she looks insane but she forces the words out before he can say anything, “I’m sorry for snapping at you, you didn’t deserve that. I said a lot of things I didn’t mean because I was angry and my emotions are all over the place. That doesn’t make it right, it’s just… I’ve had a hard time lately. With everything. And I lashed out at you and I shouldn’t have.”

Alex stared at Jo for a moment before stepping into the hallway and pulling her into his embrace, “I’m sorry too, for freaking out on you, that’s the last thing you need right now. I meant what I said, I do want to be better for you. For both of you.”

“And I’m sorry for telling you that we’re having a boy by yelling it across the room at you,” Jo let a quiet laugh out as she looked up at Alex, a blush forming on her cheeks. “Maybe we can just talk things out from now on? And try to contain our tempers. Oh god, I hope our kid doesn’t have a temper.”

Alex chuckled, pressing a light kiss to Jo’s hair as he ushered her inside his apartment, “He's probably going to but you can teach him how to throw stuffed animals at the wall.”

+

“Hey, how’s your day going,” Jo tried to act as casual as she could as she leaned against the wall next to Alex who was typing up something in a chart. “Just out of curiosity, you know for a patient, how do you tell the difference between Braxton Hicks and real contractions?”

Alex’s head whipped up, eyes moving from Jo’s bump to her face. She had kept a calm demeanor as she left her surgery early, but now standing next to him she felt nervous, “You’re having contractions? Are you in labor?”

“If I knew that I wouldn’t be asking you would I,” Jo huffed as she pressed her hand against her stomach. The movement didn’t seem to calm Alex as he stared her down, his own hand coming up to sit right above hers on her belly. “I don’t think I am, I’ve just been super uncomfortable since last night. I spent an hour just sitting on the couch because I was in so much pain I couldn’t move. Actually I was kinda convinced I might just give birth then and there, but my pain went away and I got a few hours of sleep.”

Alex pressed his hand against Jo’s back as he led her down the hallway, his eyes not leaving her as they walked, “I don’t like you being alone in there all the time. What if you had actually gone into labor?”

“Then I would’ve called you.”

“And what if you couldn’t reach your phone? Or you lost too much blood and passed out,” Alex stopped walking and braced his hands on Jo’s shoulders. “I’m just worried about you and the baby. You know I always am, especially with your due date being so close.”

Eyes narrowing, Jo reflected on the past few months as she stared Alex down. After their blowout fight, Alex and her had begun to slowly work on their relationship and building it back up. It wasn’t an easy task, there had been a lot of yelling and crying and talking through things, but she was happy with where they were as the weeks leading up to their son’s arrival dwindled away on the calendar. She didn’t know what the future held for them, but she was content to just have him by her side for now.

“Well I’m not moving out of the loft if that’s what you’re insinuating,” Jo crossed her arms across her chest. “I know you’re worried but I’ll be fine.”

Alex fixed her with a serious stare, one hand coming back down to her growing bump, “Well then I'll move in, I mean if that’s okay with you. I really don’t want you to be alone and I can help when he gets here. I’ll even sleep on the couch.”

A groan left Jo as she looked up at Alex. She appreciated his help, but she didn’t need to be under constant supervision, “Alex, I’m fine. I love that you’re worried, but I don’t need a babysitter. Now I am going to go home and take a long nap, I’ll see you later.”

Jo walked away from Alex, not letting him get another word in as she headed for the residents lounge to grab her things. She knew being due next month meant that things would only get harder from here on out, but she was determined to do as much as she could by herself.

-

“Jo? I brought you dinner.”

Jo’s head popped up from her position leaning against the back of the couch, her body protesting at the sudden movement. She held back the groan she wanted to release as she watched Alex throw a takeout bag onto the kitchen counter. She’d been trying to relieve the pain that had been building in her back all day, but it seemed to have heightened as soon as she got home.

“Hey, sorry for barging in but I figured you were hungry,” Alex eyed Jo for a moment, brows crinkling when she didn’t verbally answer him. “You okay? You look a little pale.”

Jo nodded, but immediately dropped her head to her hands and let out the loud, pained groan she’d tried so hard to hold back. Her hips and back were on fire, the baby’s positioning not helping matters at all. As she tried to hold back another frustrated moan, Alex came up behind her and settled his hands on her lower back, fingers working down into her skin to release some of the pressure building there. The feeling was the first relief she’d felt all day, prompting her to immediately burst into tears. For his part, Alex was unfazed by Jo’s outburst, his fingers continuing to rub her back as she let out loud sobs.

“Hey, look at me,” Alex’s voice rang out softly after a few minutes, prompting Jo to turn and meet his eyes as he held her close. She cursed her heart as it beat out of time, stuttering at the intimacy of her and Alex’s positioning. “You don’t have to do all of this on your own. I know you can, but I’m here and I want to help you. Will you let me help?”

Pressing her head against Alex’s chest, Jo nodded as she took a deep breath. She hated to admit it, but Alex was right, she did need a little help. She hadn’t slept properly in days, her back was on fire, and her Braxton Hicks were coming at an almost constant rate now. More than anything, Jo just needed someone to support her and Alex was the best person for that role.

“Good, now let’s get you in bed. You look like you haven’t slept in a week,” Alex chuckled as he pressed a kiss to her head. The small move sparked something in Jo, despite Alex having done it more than once since returning home. Her fingers curled into his shirt, eyes turning up to meet his with a dark glint behind them. “What? What’s that look for?”

Before he could say anything else, Jo moved one hand to tangle in his hair and bring his lips down to hers. The feeling was indescribable, something she’d craved since she had dropped him off at the airport so many months ago. As if sensing the same thing, Alex kissed her back hungrily, his fingers readily finding purchase against her hips. After a moment, he pulled back and met her eyes.

“You were just crying and now you’re kissing me,” Alex chuckled, brushing back a strand of hair from her face. “I think you do need to get some sleep.”

“Will you lay down with me, I haven’t been able to sleep for like three days,” Jo’s eyes were pleading with Alex as she crawled under the covers. “He calms down when you’re around, I might actually be able to sleep for more than an hour.”

Alex obliged, kicking his shoes off and crawling into the other side of the bed. As he wrapped one arm around Jo’s expanding stomach, she closed her eyes and let her mind believe that this was a normal day for them. That they’d come home from work and were settling in for the night, that they didn’t sleep in separate apartments, that they weren’t divorced and Alex had never left. For a moment Jo let herself believe everything was okay.

Those thoughts and Alex’s presence lulled Jo into the most peaceful sleep she’d gotten in weeks. Her mind drifted off, letting her aching body rest and giving her much needed relief.

-

“He’s gonna be in the bassinet for the first few months, I don’t see why you insist on setting up the crib now,” Jo groaned as she sat herself on the couch, propping her bare feet up on the coffee table. “Can you just shove your clothes in the dresser and come sit down? Your nagging has exhausted me.”

A chuckle leaves Alex as he settles himself across the couch from Jo, reaching for her feet and pulling them into his lap, “Sorry that all of my heavy lifting and asking you where I should put things has bothered you.”

A noncommittal groan left Jo as her eyes fluttered closed, one hand floating down to her bump as Alex rubbed her swollen feet. He’d been at the loft every night since their agreement last week, making sure that he was able to help Jo sleep and stopping their son from keeping her up all night. Jo was thankful for the reprieve, even more thankful when Alex hadn’t batted an eye at her request for help relieving some of her more… primal urges that had sparked since her raging hormones had taken over her body. She’d fight anyone that insinuated that her and Alex were together, because they definitely weren’t, but she had a hard time denying the fact that sex with him was just as great if not better than it had always been.

Even being so far along in her pregnancy, Alex seemed to know what her body craved even more than she did. The way that they still worked so well on a physical level was no shock to Jo, but Alex’s uncanny ability to make her come undone and feel completely satisfied still shocked her. The first time they’d had sex again Jo had come three times before he’d even taken his pants off.

“You want me to order dinner? We can get Chinese if you want,” Jo barely registered Alex’s voice as his fingers moved across her skin. She could tell her body was already reacting to the feeling of him so close to her, her mind desperately trying to fight off the growing heat between her legs. “Jooooo? You in there?”

Jo peeks her eyes open, meeting Alex’s gaze with a grin. She moves one hand to grab his shirt and pull him closer to her, a chuckle leaving him as he understands exactly what she’s asking for.

“You’re insatiable,” Alex’s tone is light as his lips trail down to Jo’s neck. “I wouldn’t be shocked if sex is what sends you into labor.”

“Your dirty talk needs some work,” Jo groans as one of Alex’s hands trails up her body to brush against her breast. “But you might have a point…”

+

When Jo rolls over to glance at the clock, she's beyond frustrated that it tells her it’s midnight. She’d fallen asleep not even two hours ago after tossing and turning for 45 minutes trying to get comfortable between intermittent Braxton Hicks contractions. Resigning herself to another night of insomnia, she rolls out of bed and heads for the bathroom.

“You know, you’re being a real pain in the ass,” Jo groans as she looks down to her belly, a kick hitting her bladder as she flips on the bathroom light. “Yeah, you’re definitely a Karev.”

Finishing up in the bathroom, Jo walks quietly back to bed and settles herself above the covers. She knew she’d have to pee again soon and didn’t want to bother climbing all the way into bed again only to climb right back out.

After her scare early on in her pregnancy, Jo was just grateful to be carrying her baby still. But with only a few days left until her due date, she was growing more and more frustrated as her body began to prepare for labor. She hated how she couldn’t go more than an hour or two without feeling like she was going to pee her pants, how her back was constantly in pain no matter how she laid herself across the bed, how her son was now so large that even taking a deep breath was a monumental task.

It didn’t help that she’d been on maternity leave for the past two weeks and had been home alone bored out of her mind most of the time. She’d cleaned the loft, organized both her and Alex’s dressers, washed and folded all of the baby clothes, and watched every season of Friends. Jo almost wanted to go into labor just to have something to do that wasn’t cleaning.

Just as she’d predicted her bladder began screaming at her once again, prompting Jo to pull herself off of the bed and head back towards the bathroom. To her shock however, a loud pop sounded as soon as she stood, her feet instantly soaked by the rush of liquid now pooling on the ground.

“Alex… Alex! Wake up,” Jo tossed her pillow at Alex’s sleeping form across the bed, watching as he slowly began to wake. She felt bad knowing he’d just come off a long shift the night before, but she needed him. “Alex!”

The lights in the bedroom flicked on as Jo let out a low groan and reached for the edge of the bed, a sharp pain running through her stomach as she clenched the blankets tightly. A warm hand settled on her back, calming Jo slightly as her mind began to race, “How long have you been up?”

“Twenty minutes, but my water just broke,” Jo took a deep breath as she blindly reached for Alex’s hand. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t be sorry, what else am I gonna do right now,” Alex pressed a kiss against the side of Jo’s head as his hand continued to rub soothing circles into her back. “Will you be okay if I go throw the bags in the car real quick?”

Jo nods at him, but as soon as his hands aren’t on her anymore she wants to call out and bring him back to her. She’d gotten used to being so close to Alex, his hands constantly near her as he rubbed her aching feet or back and moved his hand across her belly to feel the baby’s movements. She’d even made it a habit of curling up next to him when he crawled into bed after a long shift, his hands always moving to pull her closer as she buried her face into his chest. When he’d moved back into the loft to make things easier when the baby came she’d been hesitant, but Jo couldn’t help how comforting she found his presence.

“Cars packed and I called the hospital so they know we’re on our way,” Jo looked up, Alex’s voice startling her out of her thoughts. His hands fell to her lower back again as she leaned against his chest, the feeling relaxing Jo as another contraction rushed through her body. “Those are pretty close together, how long have you been having contractions?”

“On and off since you left for work yesterday morning,” a groan left Jo as she braced her hands on Alex’s shoulders, the pain radiating through her stomach growing stronger. “Nothing this bad though.”

“Well let’s get going then, I’d like to avoid you giving birth in my car,” a small chuckle left Jo as Alex led her out of the loft. The next time they’d walk through the doors they’d have a baby with them. “Hey I was wrong! Sex didn’t put you into labor!”

“Shut up Alex.”

+

The exhaustion that falls over Jo as she leans into Alex is only surpassed by her joy at the squirming bundle that’s being placed on her chest. A head of dark curls greets her as she presses the infant close to her, fingers coming up to brush the soft skin of her son's cheek.

“You’re here, you’re real,” Jo laughs wetly as she looks down at the baby in her arms, her son, tears instantly welling in her eyes. “Oh my god your head is huge.”

“Sorry about that, that’s my bad,” Alex’s voice rings out from behind her, prompting Jo to shift closer to him as he presses one hand on the baby’s back and another against her arm in a comforting gesture. “You did so good, you’re a freaking rockstar.”

As she sits with her newborn snuggled against her and Alex’s arms wrapped around her, Jo thinks that she could stay right there forever. The pain, the heartbreak, the worry, all of it fades as she relishes in the feeling of the two people she loves most by her side. She’d been through so much in her life, lows she never wanted to relive, highs she would remember forever. All of it seems to pass by her eyes in a flash as she zones into this moment, the one moment she’s sure she’ll never forget as long as she lives.

In a second, without warning, Jo realizes that nothing else mattered. What had happened before, the grudges she’d held, the words spoken and not between her and Alex over the past year didn’t matter. He was here, with her and with their son and she knew he wasn’t leaving. He didn’t have to say it, didn’t have to promise anything or beg for her to let him in. His arms holding her close and his fingers brushing at their son’s curls reminded her that things had changed so much already.

“I love you,” Jo whispers as she lays her head on Alex’s chest, her eyes still trained on the baby in her arms. “I love you so much Alex.”

There’s a pause, a stillness in the air as Alex freezes next to her. The words that they’d exchanged so freely before now held a heavier meaning, they meant more this time around. His fingers moving slowly up and down her arm stop for a moment, continuing again as he presses a kiss to her temple, “I love you too Jo.”

She doesn’t know how long they sit like that, both of them staring down in awe at the little boy they’d created together. Alex tells him about how he was certain that they’d conceived him in the backseat of his car, Jo chuckling at the ridiculous story as her eyes fought to stay open. She’d been in labor for almost five hours and had been pushing for another, the event taking its toll on her as she leaned against Alex and shut her eyes.

“You sleep, I'll take him and we’ll be here when you wake up,” Alex grabs the infant from her arms, Jo peeking her eyes open to marvel at the sight of their son nuzzled against him. “Tell mama to take a nap, she deserves it.”

Jo watches the two for a moment more before closing her eyes and letting the joy she felt wash over her, lulling her into a peaceful sleep.

+

Jo wakes to small cries and the sound of someone singing softly. The cries lessen as the singing gets a little louder, the rough melodic voice singing some rock song that was not appropriate lullaby music. Sitting up in bed, she lets her eyes adjust before making out the silhouette of Alex rocking their two week old son to sleep.

“Is he hungry? I can take him,” Alex’s head popped up in surprise at Jo’s voice, his face illuminated by the low light shining from the kitchen.

“No, he’s almost back down. I gave him a bottle already,” Alex rocked back and forth a few more times before smirking up at Jo. “You go back to sleep, you need it.”

Settling her head back into the pillows, Jo watched both boys for a few minutes until Alex settled the baby back into his bassinet. Satisfied that the infant was going to stay down, he crawled back into bed and pulled Jo into his arms, “I thought I told you to go back to sleep.”

“Mmm yeah but you and Max looked too cute,” one hand trailed up to Alex’s face as Jo snuggled against him. “Besides it gets cold in here without you.”

A chuckle left Alex as his hands wrapped around Jo, bringing her flush against his chest as his lips brushed a kiss against her hair, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jo settled her head against Alex’s chest, letting the steady beat of his heart calm her own body.

Jo’s eyes close again, her mind drifting to think of Luna, of the concern she’d had that her son might end up alone and scared like she had been. She knew that the little girl was probably sleeping in her crib at home, her mom healthy and snoozing beside her, the thought comforting her slightly. As she thought of Alex and the way he cared so deeply about her and Max, Jo knew she’d never have to worry about either of them being alone again.

[boogiewrites]

No. 9: The Body

Chapter One

Characters: Diego Hargreeves & OFC Eve Corpuz

Summary: Eve, once a rebellious runaway had turned her life around through the help of others to now be a doctor. She tries to return the favor these days. When a mysterious man keeps popping up in her life, what will her natural talent for healing become when it finally meets someone else with abilities like hers? The introductory chapter.

Warnings/Tags: Meet Cute. Some medical/blood/injury stuff.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

From the view from her apartment window, only slightly obscured by the fire escape, Eve looked out on the gloomy sunrise falling over the New York City street below. The fog and steam from the light drizzle on the street grates blended with the haze of her coffee cup as she took a moment to gather herself, feel the calm at the moment before the chaos of her job began.

Eve was all about function over fashion these days. Her childhood had held many questionable punk ensembles and thrifted, or even stolen pieces that were worn down to bare threads. But now her clothes usually consisted of scrubs, so she opted for comfort usually. She savors the last of her coffee and the peace of her small home and makes her way out into the world to begin another long, chaotic 12-hour shift.

The phrase, “business as usual” couldn’t really apply to work in an Emergency Room but when you worked an ER in New York, literally anything could be called as such. So the day began, and so did the rush of decisions, needles, charts, and blood as the job called for. She changed out her off duty uniform of pants that compromised mostly of spandex. For the season warm fleece-lined leggings were her go-to currently. Her boots needed replacing, as she’d bought new sneakers for work but neglected her everyday ones. What a metaphor for her life that was. You couldn’t really wear anything but boots in the city winter as the mess on the streets would seep through anything else. She peeled off her layers of a tank top, t-shirt, hoodie, and jacket to stuff into her locker and got into her sterile looking and feeling scrubs that served as her protection from whatever the wild night of New York emergency room drama would unfold. “Doctor Corpuz to the ER please.” She heard the intercom over her headphones. It was already starting. —

The night had been average, traffic accidents, assault, chest pains, overdose, nothing that would throw Eve off her game. Her years of residency had assured that. As usual, she became drained the longer the night went on, hitting the caffeine hard to make it through the last hours.

“Uh, hey, Eve we’ve got this guy in room 3 and he’s being…. a bit belligerent,“ the woman rolled her eyes as she casually leaned on the counter “He’s scaring the intern, you might wanna go help deescalate.” A half-smile that made it clear that the news delivered was something said more times than either of them could count now. “Since you’re so good at it and all.” She cracks her gum and even though it’s delivered sarcastically, the jab was actually true.

“Ugh.. why do I have to be the one that’s good at this?” She huffs and shrugs with heavy arms as she throws a playful pout her friend’s way. “Why can’t you just go yell at them? It sure scares me.” Eve quips as she stretches to prepare herself.

“I already did and he did not respond well to authority so… in you go Mr. Rogers.” She hits Eve on the shoulder with the patient’s file and she dramatically grasps it.

“Tired of being good cop. Let me yell at the next one alright?” She says back as she walks away.

“Got it Doc.” She answers as she begins to walk away.

Eve takes a deep breath and focuses before entering the room, trying to bring up that positive side of herself for the task at hand.

“I told you what I told ya, alright?” She could see from the chart and the bleeding man lying on a bed in front of her in a stance all black and leather ensemble. Her first thought was oh god what did he get stabbed with? He looks like he’s been at some BDSM party that went south, in the bad sense, and fast. It was multiple stab wounds to the abdomen and he was ready to be sewn up but wasn’t agreeing to be still despite the pain medicine he’d been given.

“Hey, dude we can we just shhh a little? Bring down the volume a touch?” She asks as the black-haired man turned his head her way. His dark brown eyes were glazed and he was clearly feeling the pain pills. A heavy brow lay low and angry as he sized her up a bit slower than he was accustomed to.

“Who are you?” He asks with a bite.

“I could ask you the same thing. I’m the ER Doctor tonight, Eve Corpuz. And you are?”

“I’m nobody.” He answers at a lower volume.

“Well Nobody, looks like I’ve got to stitch you up. Would you mind if I got to it?” She snaps on her gloves as the nurse pushes a tray with her instruments on it towards her.

“I need to get out of here.” He says, voice now at a more acceptable volume.

“If you let me sew you up you’ll be out of here right after and then we’ll all be happy, alright?” She gives smile his way that was softer than her tone. “I think I’ve got it from here Sherry. I won’t be needing any help will I Nobody? I can sew you up real quick and we can get on with our nights? Since you seem so busy and all?”

He looks to the other nurse and back to the doctor, muscles still tense but in a much more passive body language. “Yeah…okay.” He nods and his clearly scowling eyes kept on the nurse.

“Alright we’re good here. I’ll finish up and you can get Mr. Nobody here some pain control to take home ready?”

“I’ll be back in with the forms.” She responds, another way to let the doctor know she would be close by. After a shared nod, they said, “Yes I’m sure.” She was left alone with the scowling stranger.

“I don’t like her.” He pointed and laid back down on the table.

“That’s fair.” Eve shrugs, seeing a calm and casual approach was working best. “I just want to get you as best prepared as I can to heal up well, alright? I’m not gonna hound you for info like they were. That’s not my job.” She gives a humorous smile as she preps the areas on his stomach.

He blinks at her, looking down at her hands as she touches the wounds, and his nose twitches from pain. He says nothing as his attention is averted and her tone not aggressive and being reasonable with him.

“This part is gonna hurt. I’m not gonna bullshit you alright? But it’s not as bad as being stabbed so… Got me?”

His eyes meet hers. his round and partially, deep-set against full dark brows and goatee against his brown skin. “What kind of doctor says bullshit?” He asks with a head tilt.

“The kind that gets shit done.” She smiles and shrugs. “I’ve been on the other side of this situation before, I know it sucks and I’m not here to be the bad guy. I’m not a snitch… a narc or whatever, I’m just Eve and I wanna help. Because I know what it’s like.” She says earnestly and he doesn’t detect any bullshit as she’d said. He could read people, and he found her a little odd but… genuine.

“You been stabbed before?”

“I have.” She nods. “It fuckin hurts doesn’t it?” She laughs and nods, testing the equipment.

“Yeah. It does.” He gives a huff with a more relaxed expression before wincing.

“Where did you get stabbed?” He asks, brain still trying to read her.

“In the arm.” She nods casually.

“Ow.”

“Yeah ow.” She smiles he continues keeping her focus on cleaning up her space and open her tools.

“Why?” he asks.

“Why did you get stabbed?” she gives him a no-nonsense glance

“I was saving a cat from a tree.” his testy tone was full of pain med induced confidence.

“So did the tree stab you or the cat stab you with a 4-inch blade?”

“The cat.” He responds was as snarkily as she had in their back and forth.

“Mean cat.” She replies with a more casual smile as they begin to feel each other out.

“Yeah. He was a real asshole.”

She begins tapping the area and he doesn’t react. “Think we’re good now. Don’t move, please?”

“Kay.” He nods and lets his head fall back. As she works he watches her face. “So how did you get stabbed?”

“Would you believe a cat got me too?”

He gives a little confused smile. “I wouldn’t actually.”

“Then we have that in common.”

He grunts in appreciation for her attitude. Guess he’d have to work harder to figure her out. She looked warm, yet severe and her faded tattoos peeking out from her collar and sleeves were proving very interesting to him. She didn’t look or more interestingly feel like a doctor to him. He was used to pretending to be things he wasn’t, but if she was, she was better than him at it.

“Looks like I need to get more stuff.” She mutters, looking around the room. She covers two of three wounds and sighs. “I’ll be right back okay?”

“Okay.” He says with a face that she believed. But it wasn’t the first time her caring nature would’ve been taken advantage of, and the entertaining stranger was gone when she returned to the room. Nothing but the blood left behind and a warm indent on the bed. He was good, she thought. Actually, she was downright impressed he got past her. It’d be a headache for paperwork later but a good story to tell at least.

————————————

The next night the stranger named Nobody was the farthest thing from Eve’s mind. She was enjoying her take out, the container in hand, and chopsticks tapping to the playlist titled “classical: chill”. She’d made it to play when she studied in school and during residency and apparently she’d conditioned herself to be more relaxed while she played it.

The sun had just gone down and the winter chill was heavy around her windows. In her functional fashion, she wore sweats and slippers and layers topped with a hoodie. She was swaying and focusing on how good cold lo mein could be. The light of her standing lamp illuminating the solid rectangle of open space that was her kitchen and living room. Much like her fashion, it was cozy and functional. Nothing brash or bold, just neutral colors and lots of comforts.

Eve was winding down to sleep off her last shift, making some time to eat and enjoy herself before having to get back to it the next morning. Her dark hair was damp and twisted on top of her head, glasses mended with floss sat unsecured on her nose as she ate with her eyes closed. During the weeks where she had close shifts she usually took it easy on herself, her hours could vary wildly, and sometimes that worked in her advantage and sometimes it didn’t. But it wasn’t anything new to her. She figured if she made it through residency she could make it through anything, and right now the coziness, the juxtaposition of inside her little warm home and the biting January cold that lay just outside the windows. They sat with curtains that fell ceiling to floor, mostly drawn. Being on the third floor she had never been too worried about anyone seeing into her windows. But perhaps she should have been.

That, forgotten in this moment, Nobody was taking full advantage of the small space left by the curtains. He peered in, watching her. He drummed his gloved fingers over two healed fresh scared marks near his ribs. He could find anything sinister about her. She wasn’t any sort of plant in the hospital and she wasn’t there looking for him. She seemed like a nice enough woman actually, but he knew there had to be something he was missing.

He continued this for days. He would follow her around, trying to figure out what her deal was. He’d become a bit preoccupied with it, as was his nature. Since his return to the city, he’d been going from vigilante case to case to distract himself. It felt like old times in fleeting moments, but when the chaos that had surrounded him recently came rushing back at him, he wasn’t one to wallow in his sadness. Rather it hung around as he decided to go back to doing the thing he knew best. Without connects at the police anymore he was left with that familiar feeling of being a lone wolf . He still wasn’t sure how he felt about it, and it wasn’t on his list of things to contemplate soon. So a mystery woman, ironically enough was what the doctor ordered when it came to distractions.

So far she was pretty boring. As far as people with powers went, he guesses. She liked coffee, take out. Nothing that interesting, except that he was now totally healed, scarred and the pain was only a memory. She was a doctor, sure, but he’d never healed that fast in his life. He’d worked himself up to conspiracy theories of her using some new medicine that was being tested on civilians without their knowledge. But he found nothing of the sort. There wasn’t a lot on her when he searched her name. First-year doctor at a hospital, went to medical school and college, what you’d expect. She spent most of her time working, goes out with some women she works with on occasion, then went home. No following her to a seedy alley for a secret meeting or her making coded phone calls. No, she was just a woman who left her curtains open and he felt like he’d hit a wall on the investigation. So for now, she remained a collection of scribbled notes in his apartment.

His other antics, most that involved fighting and men with guns and knives, understandably led to frequent injuries for him, most ones he could handle. But it just so happened next time he got really hurt, he knew exactly which doctor to go to.

—————

Eve got there early, a shoulder gunshot wound and a split open brow. A not unusual combination. She approached the room, and no one but her seemed to recognize the man that lay in the bed.

She noticed he looked almost relieved at the sight of her, which she wasn’t used to.

“I got it.” She says a nod to the nurse as he approaches him.

“Listen, Doc you gotta get me out of here.” He begins.

“Yeah I knew that was you…” she gives him a side-eye. “I think you need either new hobbies or new friends because this is the second time in what… a month you’re in here?

“You do recognize me.”

“Of course I do you know how much of a pain in the ass paperwork is when you disappear?”

“No.”

“Clearly since you ran last time.” She says more severely as she begins the usual process again.

“Look, I saw an opportunity and I took it. Nothing personal.” he offers with a shake of his head. “ This time there’s gonna be cops and you can’t let them in here. They’ll see me and arrest me and I don’t want that.”

“What’d you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why do they want to arrest you?”

“Because they think I did something.”

“Did you…?”

“No.”

She considers his eyes for a moment, whether he was being honest or not. “…What’s your name?”

“So you can tell the cops, yeah no thanks.”

“Fair…Then tell me how you got stabbed.” It was more of a demand than a request. A terms of service agreement for her involvement.

“I was after a bad guy and he fought back, then more bad guys showed up and one of them got me.” his response was as vague as he could get away with, they both knew that.

“You’re the good guy in this instance?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you some undercover…something-er-other?”

“No, not exactly.”

“Just a wanted criminal?”

“Wanted. Not a criminal.”

She sighs and he hisses as she begins to work on him. He notices her lips purse and her eyes making a decision beyond watching the work she was doing?

“Doctor Corpuz, there are some policemen that want to ask you some questions.

“Tell them I’m finishing up a procedure, to stay by the front desk and I’ll be out.”

“Yes, Doctor.” the nurse bows.

“Are you gonna help me or not?”

She stays quiet, finishing up sewing and reaching for a bandage. “Yeah.” she nods.

“Good, I didn’t want to have to hurt you.”

She swings her eyes his way in a clear glare that told him she did not find his joke funny. “You aren’t helping your case any random nobody who’s been stabbed multiple times in the past month. You clearly are good at making decisions, maybe I should tell them about you.” she retorts with more sting and she gives his stomach a harsher pat before moving away.

“Uh…it was..it would be funny if you knew me. I don’t want to hurt you…Eve Corpuz.” he glances at the tag and then her face.

“No, we’re back on a Doctor-patient relationship now.”

“But you’re still gonna help me get out?”

“Yes, fuck, I said I would already.” she shakes her head at him and motions for him to sit up. “I’ll have them at the front desk and distract them, and you go out the back way. You’ll get some attention, but not from them.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re the coolest doctor they’ve ever met?”

“They haven’t actually. Usually, they’re too busy screaming in pain when we meet.” she cleans the space and begins to walk out the door as he catches her wrist.

“Thanks. Doctor. Eve. Whatever.”

“Well, you’ll owe me I guess. What good that does me when I don’t even know you’re name, huh? Just get out as quietly as possible, alright? Don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t.” he nods and releases his grip on her.

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

Let’s Talk About Your Hair

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Warnings: AU, Peter does a little hop, skip, and jump that’s sudden. There’s some smut and a little bit of angst. That’s about it, though!  Notes: I found @whenstarkerwillbecanon‘s post about May being Peter’s cousin & had to go with it. I loved the prompt, so thank you for that. I tweaked it to fit my writing style, but I hope it’s kind of what you had in mind!  Word Count: ~13.5k Summary: 

A snazzy little AU where Peter and May are cousins. Peter has been in Minnesota for school over the past 6 years and returns to New York to take a job. Going back home means hanging out with his favorite cousin, and when she introduces him to her new boyfriend - he's surprised to see Tony Stark - his ex and long time love - sitting there next to her. Goodness ensues.

Read on AO3 here

6 years ago… 

Peter was 21 and desperately in love. 

Or - the one where Peter gets the shock of a lifetime and yearns away a little bit at a time.Peter was 21 and desperately in love.

Despite the fact that the end of college was quickly approaching and so many decisions needed to be made, Peter felt okay. The pre-med track he took through NYU connected him to his true passion, physical therapy and if all went well, he’d be attending PT school in the fall. His clinical rotations were a lot of fun and he enjoyed working with the patients – especially the younger ones, the dreamy eyes on those kids were a big motivation to chase all  of the things he wanted. Things like his education and the beautiful Tony Stark.

He met Tony in Microbiology lab his sophomore year and they immediately clicked. Tony’s brain was fascinating and the vivid way he lived his life drew Peter in like a moth to a flame. Aside from acing their lab final and coming out of what was rumored to be one of the harder classes in his degree, Peter found himself with a Tony Stark attached to his hip, too. It felt good, being close to someone the way he could be with Tony – the lack of expectation and abundance of goodness made their time together priceless.

For two and a half glorious years, Peter and Tony learned the necessary things to graduate college and mapped out places in each other’s lives. With Howard still running the company, Tony was free to do whatever he wanted, and thankfully – what he wanted included Peter. The prospect of attaining his dreams and keeping the man he loved the most couldn’t be beat. It didn’t matter that there were better PT schools to go to, or that New York was starting to feel a little suffocating – he liked the flow of his life and didn’t want to change it.

Then – Howard Stark died. The entire thing was stupidly sudden, not a single person was prepared for it. Not the board of Stark Industries, and sure as hell not Tony Stark himself. Throughout their time together, Peter met Tony’s dad a handful of times. Each one of the witnessed father-son interactions was forced, boarding on the edge of hostile. There was no love lost between the two of them – Tony’s grief seemed to be based around the loss of his freedom, not the death of his father.

Like every powerful family, Tony walked into a legacy that took things from him in all directions. Between board meetings, R&D presentations, and the terrible Obadiah Stane’s never ceasing presence, it got a little harder to picture that happy ending they’d been planning for. No matter how well he knew the situation, Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that things were different. Or, maybe he was just different – he couldn’t really pinpoint the dark bit of energy that sat in the center of his chest and started to collect.

By the end of the semester, Peter was barely getting to see Tony. With  his rotations and the hectic schedule of a young business owner, there wasn’t a lot of time to kick back and relax – to fuck all over the apartment and waste the rest of the day recovering just to go again. In fact, Peter couldn’t remember the last time they even got to fuck. It was petty – deep down, he knew that. Holding anything over Tony’s head when the man was trying to juggle running a business and struggling not to mourn someone he couldn’t help but miss.

Peter didn’t often find himself in a place of selfishness – where he wanted what he wanted, and nothing was going to change that. Yet, he got there, anyway. Applying to Mayo Clinic School of Medical Sciences in Minnesota felt like a little act of rebellion.

He loved Tony too much to ever hurt him in a physical sense, Peter didn’t have any interest in cheating, or anything like that. The card he held removed his presence all together and the closer he got to the point where decisions needed to be made, the more uncertain he felt himself becoming.

About a week before graduation, Peter got his acceptance letter in the mail – the school he actually wanted to attend wanted him back. How interesting a concept that was – he could almost remember when he felt that with Tony. He was lost and that wasn’t anybody’s fault but his own.

The door to their shared apartment opened a couple of minutes later, Tony peaking his head in hours earlier than usual, a smile on his face.

The annual Stark Gala was later that evening and as promised, he’d taken the afternoon off to spend with Peter – their time later that evening would more than likely be very limited. Leaving the letter on the table, Peter got up off the couch and wrapped Tony in a hug. For some reason, tonight felt like the turning point. His heart was already beating out of his chest, Tony’s hands doing things to him without a second thought. Peter wanted to stay – he just wanted to be whole enough to want everything that came with staying more.

The delicate caress of Tony’s hands became distracting no less than a few minutes later – his fingertips digging into Peter’s ass cheeks through his jeans. It’d been a while, so Peter went with it, his arms wrapping around Tony’s neck tightly. Their kisses were hot, like each man could feel the bit of separation between them – Tony clung to him a little tighter and for the first time in a while, Peter felt good. He felt Tony making him feel good.

When he came a little later on with Tony’s name on his lips, Peter relaxed into the bed, a light smile on his lips. They stayed snuggled up together until a knock on the door was sounding and any other thoughts of intimacy were out the window. There wouldn’t be a single moment of peace for the rest of the evening. With one last kiss, Peter got up and out of bed, the haze of happiness rolling off of him.

Later, when he put a bag together and left without saying a word – Peter didn’t realize how blind he’d been. Without him knowing, Tony saw the letter and planned to surprise him with champagne later that evening. He didn’t get to see the other man sitting on the arm of the couch, fisting the bottle – wondering what in the actual fuck happened.

Instead, he got a bus ticket and made his way to Minnesota, his acceptance email to the Mayo Clinic PT school fresh in the sent folder.

For days to come, he would look back and wonder what the hell compelled him to just up and scram – to leave everything behind other than the basic necessities and his favorite picture of him and Tony. Even presently, Peter can’t come up with the greatest reason. He acted on instinct and fled. For whatever reason, he lacked the feeling of completion and needed the space to find out what that meant – and how he could change it..

Present Day

In the six years that he’d been there, Minnesota sort of grew on him. The cold sucked – that’s the first thing he realized when he got there. What he’d been wearing in New York, even in late May, was not appropriate for the small town he walked into after getting off the bus. He did a quick perusal of town and figured it would be as good of a place to start over as any other. Rochester, Minnesota – he remembered he picked the Mayo Clinic PT school there just because it reminded him of New York – he thought it was ironic.

Now, it’d been home away from home for a few years. After getting a pretty decent one-bedroom apartment and a job at the PT clinic within the actual medical school – Peter set up camp pretty quickly. He dropped his New York number and started completely fresh. It tore at his heart, turning off the last line of communication he had with Tony – he’d been ignoring all of his calls and texts, the desperate emails – but he made his decision.

Why not get all the breaking done at once?

He figured the longer he was gone, the easier the heartache would get. It felt deserved, for being callous in the way he just up and left – dropped off the map. The longer it lasted, though, the more Peter started to doubt his decision. School was going great and he loved getting to receive the education he actually wanted – but was it worth the cost?

To try and take his mind off of it, Peter tried to date – as miraculous as that sounded with the busy schedule he kept. A part of him could honestly say he knew going into each date that they were already doomed. He tried – at least, he wanted to say that he did. The new guys were always held up against the highest pedestal, no matter how hard he tried – Peter couldn’t stop seeing Tony, couldn’t keep Tony off his mind. Tony, Tony, Tony.

In the collective whirlwind of time, Peter finished PT school and immediately stepped into a job as a traveling physical therapist. He worked with a couple of the local sports teams in the area and covered their games when in his little jurisdiction. It was satisfying – he got to do a bit of wandering around the state, watch sports in leu of doing an actual job, and it paid well. Yet, the longer he stayed in it, he felt himself getting further from that genuine feeling of happiness.

When it became more effort to get his ass to work and do his job, he figured it was time for a change of scenery.

May’s call came at just the right time, too – Peter dealt with a particularly difficult man-child of a soccer player that morning, his patience frayed and wearing down thinner than he ever thought they could. The buzz in his pocket drew him away from the notes he’d been trying to put together on the athlete, his eyes lighting up when he saw her name.

“May, my favorite cousin! How are you?” Peter said in a way of greeting, his tone warm, voice inviting. Of all the family Peter had left, May was possibly the only person he cared to keep in touch with. Her parents were great for taking him in his last couple of years of high school, but they weren’t his – not like they were May’s.

He heard a chuckle on the other side of the line, her voice never stopping him from smiling, no matter what. “I’m your only cousin, Pete,” she started, the thick sarcasm wrapping the words up, delivering them beautifully. “I’m on to you. I’m good, though – very good. I am also calling with a purpose.” She cleared her throat, the sign that she was serious.

Leaning back in his chair, Peter felt interest flare up within him – May’s suggestions and adventures usually ended up horribly, but they were fun, and they didn’t usually steer him wrong. He rubbed at the scar from their tubing adventure his senior year fondly, the memory one of his favorites to think about. “With a purpose. I’m sure this’ll be good,” Peter remarked, a chuckle leaving his lips, the laugh soothing the sting of truth in his words.

May rolled with it, the eye roll obvious in her next words. “Shut up – you know my ideas are the best. It’s not coming from me this time, though. I got a tip from one of my coworkers that the Nets are looking for a staff PT – thought you might be good for the job.” He felt his breath hitch – he’d been trying to get on with a singular pro team for a while now.

She must have caught the change – her voice excitedly talking again, “Oh, I knew you’d be interested, Petey! I’ll send you the information.” He could practically hear the claps coming down the line, her perpetual ability to be happy both delightful and irritating all at once. Shrugging, Peter didn’t deny that the job looked promising when he clicked on the link to look at the details. Within the hour, he clicked the submit button and sent the damn thing off.

The itch to go to New York was there – now he just needed to scratch it.

Luckily, his resume reigned supreme. During his time in school, Peter did a bunch of outreach with youth sports programs and adult recreation leagues. He took a big internship with Rochester and Oakland University his last two semesters in PT school – if anyone was qualified, it was Peter Parker. And the hiring bodies seemed to agree, after a lengthy Skype interview, Peter was flying out for a quick 24-hour turnaround trip. One in which he came back to Minnesota with a brand-new job and the chance to finally go home.

The move was pretty easy – much like his first trip, he didn’t bring much with him. The team put him up in one of the nicer apartment complexes in Brooklyn, a place that came fully furnished and with a delightful view of the back porches of the 3B patrons. When May came to help him, he could see the grin on her face – the idea of getting done sooner rather than later obvious. They took a look around the box riddled place when they were finished and decided that dinner out was the best way to finish off the night.

There were many things in the city that he missed, but good Thai food ranked pretty high on that list (that and Tony – but he wasn’t about to go and tell anyone that.) Settling into the low-lit booth of the place they found right down the street from Peter’s apartment, he let out a long sigh. “It feels good to finally not be moving. I feel like I haven’t stopped since I got here yesterday,” Peter fiddled with the silverware in front of him, a smile on his lips.

“I’m just glad you didn’t have more stuff to move around. The ER was hopping last night, so I’ve been feeling more tired than usual today,” she placed a hand over his, her touch stopping the restless fretting. “I’m really glad you’re here, Pete. It’s been weird in the city without you.” Her red lips pulled into a grin, eyes twinkling.

Peter dropped the utensils and turned his hands, surrounding May’s with his own. “I’m glad to be here, too. Disappearing like I did was stupid – “ he stopped, breath catching a little. So stupid, he thought to himself. May was in college when he left, her own experience just starting to get off the ground. She didn’t even know anything about him during that time – no matter how ‘close’ they were. “I’m happy to be back. And in Brooklyn – who would have thought?”

They chatted until the food came – the world narrowing down to noodles, deliciousness, and not much else for Peter. She might have been talking at him, but he wasn’t listening. For the first time in years, it felt like being at home. This wasn’t Pho’s from down the street in Queens, it wasn’t the best he’d ever eaten, either – but it felt familiar. He’d been missing familiarity for a while now, that realization hitting him harder than he figured.

Self-induced isolation could do that to a person.

As he finished up, Peter clued back into the conversation, his eyes watching May gesture through the rest of her story before he met her glance. “I didn’t hear a word of what you said. Sorry,” he admitted, his mind split in a million different directions. New York brought back so many things – memories and wants. Trying to pay attention to May was proving difficult.

“I said you have to meet the guy I’ve been seeing. It’s pretty new, but I like him. He’s unique and smart and sort of weird – but who isn’t these days?” May repeated, her cheeks flushed. “We’re going to meet at Sully’s in Manhattan. You know the old place.” She waved at him nonchalantly – like they’d spent so much time there over the years. He remembered taking her with him during her first winter break and hadn’t been back since.

Chomping down on those words, Peter shot her a sheepish grin – “I’m not going to be a third wheel, am I?” Peter questioned, his tone light, but the question serious. He hadn’t been successful in his own dating life in a while – the last thing he wanted to do was watch May get her flirt on for too long.

She shook her head, eyes bright – the pure shininess of her personality a little overwhelming, especially right that moment. He dropped a hand beneath the table and clenched it into a fist – the countdown backwards from ten starting (ten-nine-eight…) in his head. The tightness left quickly, but he felt a little rattled – his patience still on the wrong side of thin. “I promise that you won’t be.”

He took her at that and reluctantly agreed, his inability to say no to her something he needed to work on now that they were back in the same place again. Peter Parker grew into a respectable adult – he could put his foot down when necessary. Maybe. He hoped.

The next afternoon, Peter left his brand-new office and grabbed a cab – the process still as exhilarating as ever. At least he’d grown in his absence and the vehicles actually saw him when he waved from the curbside. Minnesota didn’t have the same hustle and bustle – so the luxury and relative newness kept him staring out the window the entire drive. The upscale buildings made his heart race a little – the reaction another clue telling him he was home.

The little café looked exactly the same as it did in his memory – upscale with a side of hipster. They tried to make the record player in the corner look vintage, but the current technology couldn’t be disguised. The Upper East Side had standards after all. He took a second to catch his bearings before approaching May and the dark-haired man sitting next to her. The particular color struck him as familiar – but then again, who the fuck was he?

Like she knew he was there, May turned to look over his shoulder and caught his eyes, her token smile pulling today’s pink coated lips up, causing a swift crease by both of her eyes. “There he is,” he made out, a hand coming up in a slight wave.

And then – he stopped in his tracks.

The man who turned to look in the same direction as May wasn’t just any man – no – his beautiful cousin was dating the one person Peter could honestly say he missed more than ever. His Tony – well, not really his anymore. Obviously. His heart wanted to jump out of his chest and run over there, every part of him paralyzed except for that particular muscle.

His mouth watered and for a second, he thought about turning right around and getting the hell out of dodge before something went wrong – before he lost control and got down on his knees to beg the man for forgiveness. The thought was so fucking enticing, especially when his eyes finally caught gorgeous amber honey eyes, the look there a mixture of surprise, excitement, and hurt. Gulping in a big breath of air, Peter forced himself to keep walking.

He could do this.

Rounding in on the table, Peter stayed on his feet next to the other open chair at the table – the idea of running still sitting in the forefront of his mind. May reached a hand over and patted his, the touch he figured was supposed to be comforting – instead, it made his skin itch. How dare she – ! And then it hit him that he didn’t have a singular right to feel that way. Guiltily, he flipped his hand over and gripped hers, the skin soft under his own calloused palm calming.

“I’m glad you made it,” she said genuinely. “Babe, this is – “ May started to say, her hand drawing back from Peter to pat against her boyfriend’s arm, his gaze fixing on Peter’s once again.

“I’m Peter, May’s cousin,” Peter blurted out, his hand shooting into the space between them. He felt like an idiot, a total loser still standing with his hand out and the single most confused look on his face. He didn’t need to see his own expression to know how freaked he look – he could feel the way his stomach was trying to drop out of his asshole.

A warm hand gripped his own a couple seconds later, the hold firm, the touch familiar. The natural chemistry between them swallowed Peter whole – his hand on fire and the arm attach to it numb and the chest attached to it trying it’s best to collapse in. The audacity of his body to be so mutinous – fuck the littlest bit of joy that settled over him. But god, he’d missed this man.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Tony, the boyfriend.” Tony shot him the still recognizable shit eating grin – his hand keeping Peter’s in the tight hold for another couple of heartbeats, each one dragging him down further and further. What were the odds? How could this possibly be happening? Chuckling, Peter covered up his freak out by dropping Tony’s hand and finally taking the seat he’d been standing by.

For a second, it seemed like May could read the tension suddenly infiltrating the room. Her eyes roamed between the two of them, eyelids narrowed. Then, she tilted her head and smiled sheepishly – “Great, now that’s over with – I’m going to grab some coffee. You two get to know each other.”

Peter shot her a look, the silent plea in his eyes obviously not recognizable – she merely nodded her head towards Tony and turned around, the conversation obviously over.

That same hand from before touching his made Peter glance up quickly, his eyes wide. Now that he wasn’t being watched directly, Peter took a second to really look at the man across from him. There didn’t seem to be any signs of aging, Tony’s face was smooth, aside from the goatee he’d only been nursing when Peter was around. His eyes were still that deep brown, the heavy wave of their darkness never failing to pull him in. His hair was a little longer – like he’d purposely been trying to grow it out.

Time was very kind to Tony Stark – so kind, in fact, that Peter could easily admit he was even more handsome than 6 years ago, a feat that didn’t seem fair. The hand didn’t move during his perusal, though the fingers attached to it did start to roam over the skin of his palm. The mechanism Tony used all those years ago to bring Peter back to the present. Blinking away the thoughts, Peter forced himself to teether to the spot, this next interaction one he probably didn’t want to miss.

“My May, Tony?” Peter ended up saying after a few more heartbeats of Tony tracing the lines of his palm, the familiar touch so goddamn soothing. There wasn’t much else to say – not when there were so many things unsaid, so many things that Peter wanted to explain, and by the looks of it – Tony felt the same way. Glancing over, Peter sighed with a sort of relief when he noticed May completely engrossed in the drink board, her fingers playing with her lip.

The deep vibrato of Tony’s laugh shot a tingle down the middle of his spine – his body not taking long to once again tune itself to the delicacies that were Tony Stark. He balled his right hand into a fist, a blinding hope that out of all the times he’d done it, this would be the time it actually allowed him to relax. No dice, though – Peter almost melted into a puddle when Tony started to speak.

“I didn’t even know you had a May, Pete. I was supposed to meet your family when they came in for graduation – but you know how well that went,” Tony pointed out, his hand drawing back now, the man knowing he had Peter’s full attention. “I’m just as surprised about this as you are.”

Peter could tell, too. There was a sort of vulnerability in Tony’s eyes that even in all their time together, Peter didn’t get to see often. For a second, he wondered if May knew that look – if she understood the gift she was being given. It took him way too long to realize Tony was a man of simplicity who gave affection the only way he could – with subtlety and in the littlest of ways. Oh, how he’d taken those little things for granted.

“I can’t believe it’s you that I’m sitting here with right now. Of all the people in New York,” Peter muttered, his hands spinning the pile of coasters sitting on the table. He couldn’t, either – it felt like the universe’s way of slapping him in the face. The karmic retribution for being a total fucking asshole to someone who in the end, didn’t deserve it – not a single bit.

Tony laughed then, his upper body adjusting against the back of the chair, his arm slinging over the back of the chair, resting there like this was some casual meeting, like just looking at him in such an open position wasn’t killing Peter from the inside out. Or maybe Tony knew exactly what he was doing to him, each move calculated to get the biggest bang for his buck – to pull the reactions from Peter and watch him squirm.

Either way – Peter couldn’t tear his eyes away. The thought of running coursed through his head again, this time to save himself the humiliation of this – this situation that could not go anywhere but further and further into the garbage. May didn’t know anything about their shared past, though – she wouldn’t understand the immediate need to get the hell out of dodge and avoid her for the next however long. Preferably long enough for her to no longer be dating Tony, but he didn’t get to decide that little detail.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Tony finally uttered, a smirk on his lips – he was trying for snark, for aloof and uninterested. Peter could see the way he glanced at him, though – his rebuttal the guiding hand for their interactions from here on out.

Peter took the bait, the part of him that still belonged to Tony speaking before his brain could get in on the action. “I’m not disappointed. It’s so good to see you. You look amazing,” Peter prattled off, his restless hands spinning one of the coasters from the pile between his fingers. “I’m far from disappointed, Tony.”

He didn’t know how true that was, either, not until he heard the words for himself. Despite May being the person Tony sat next to, it immediately felt good to be in his presence. Like simply being in his orbit set things right, the magnetic field surrounding him finally put back into the correct position. The brunette across from him should have a piece in his life – the fact that he accidently walked into it a second time sign enough.

They didn’t get to talk for any longer after that, May brought over three coffees and sat down, the woman immediately starting in on her babbling – he forgot how much she could talk and how passionate she could be when she did. Peter didn’t stay much longer, the thought of sticking around to witness anything coupley between them making his stomach turn.

After making his escape, Peter walked for a while, the haze of Tony Stark and all he’d been to him bringing him under. When he eventually caught a cab home, it was well into the evening – he passed the whole day away thinking about a man from his past, someone who he felt like he had unfinished business with.

----

In an attempt to forget that entire meeting existed, Peter went out of his way to avoid May – with his job starting up and the season just coming to an end, it was easier than he figured it was going to be. There weren’t a lot of things for him to do, yet – but he enjoyed getting to know some of the athletes and familiarizing himself with the facilities equipment. It far surpassed the places he’d been conducting his rehabs in before.

There was no forgetting Tony Stark, he understood that after years of trying to clear his brain of the man – but maybe he could avoid dealing with him and the unsettling and unmoving feelings that were settling in again, taking root. He loved May and he knew enough about family code to keep his distance and remove himself from a situation that could get very bad, very quick.

It sort of worked, too – sooner than expected, Peter finished his first month in the city. Most of his apartment was put together and he finally felt settled in at his job. They team was on a little break, which meant he also got to take some time for himself – a thing he thought he might actually enjoy. There hadn’t been time for vacations over the past couple of years, surviving came first.

About to settle in for a nap, Peter sat straight up when his phone vibrated, the notification that “Maybe: Tony Stark” was texting him stealing all the air from his lungs. Throwing the phone down like it burnt him, Peter forced himself into a comfortable position and drew in long breathes, his chest so goddamn tight, it felt like he couldn’t breathe. Finally able to use his brain to think and not just perform simple bodily functions (like breathing,) Peter picked up the phone again, his hands trembling.

Maybe: Tony Stark [2:26PM]: PICTURE MESSAGE Maybe: Tony Stark [2:27PM]: Do you remember Dum-E? He got an upgrade.

Peter lost his shit when he saw the picture, Tony’s prized robot was flipping him the finger, his traditional DUNCE cap sitting proudly on the top of its head. He pressed on the image to zoom in, the articulation of the joint almost spot on. Saving Tony’s contact, he moved to reply. It was against his better judgement – he shouldn’t even be thinking about it. But – he was weak. Peter didn’t have any trouble admitting that.

Peter Parker [2:31PM]: Tony Stark – did you teach your robot how to throw the bird just for me? Peter Parker [2:33PM]: Glad to see you’re still as elegant as ever.

He put his phone face down on the couch and forced himself up – his stomach growling all of the sudden. In times of desperation and nervousness, Peter didn’t get sick to his stomach. No, he felt the need to eat everything in sight, instead. The crumbled carcasses of 4 Doritos bags were already sitting on his counter, the evidence of his emotion fueled binges staring him straight in the face. Deciding on something healthier, Peter brought a bowl of cereal back to the couch with him. Finally letting himself look at the phone again, Peter got lost in the back and forth for a while.

Tony Stark [2:39PM]: Anything for you, Petey. Tony Stark [2:41PM]: I was just telling him about our little reunion, he wanted to show you how much he missed you. Tony Stark [2:42PM]: Still can’t believe that’s how you walked back into my life.

Peter Parker [2:45PM]: You two are such gems. Peter Parker [2:46PM]: That makes two of us. Peter Parker [2:47PM]: I am the king of great timing.

Tony Stark [2:50PM]: I am a delicate ruby, you’re absolutely correct. Tony Stark [2:51PM]: I literally just laughed out loud. It’s a good thing my private lab is y’know – private. Tony Stark [2:53PM]: You’re actually a huge dick with the worst timing.

Peter Parker [3:00PM]: You’d be a delicate opal, don’t lie. Peter Parker [3:01PM]: Are we talking about my dick now? Peter Parker [3:03PM]: In all seriousness, I know. I am. I’ll admit it. It probably doesn’t mean much, but I am sorry. Peter Parker [3:05PM]: Very.

Tony Stark [3:15PM]: I’ll take that as a compliment, Peter. Opals are multi-faceted. Tony Stark [3:17PM]: You started it. Tony Stark [3:18PM]: It doesn’t – mean much. I do accept it, though. Your apology. Tony Stark [3:20PM]: I knew where you went the second I saw the Mayo Clinic letter still sitting there. I wish you just told me, instead.

That last text message made Peter pause, his hand coming up to press against his mouth – the gesture a dashed attempt at keeping the gasp from falling from his lips. He never considered that, the fact that Tony would have simply gave him a hug and congratulated him. Peter took the strain and stress of Tony figuring out how to step into big shoes as something completely different, a lot bleaker. Maybe, at the time, he let it be an excuse, too.

There was a desperate sort of hatred for himself whenever he thought about what he did. On the other hand, Peter knew the only way he was going to grow was to get out and do it. There were obviously better ways to go about it – but he couldn’t change that now. The fact that May was dating the man he loved so much and treated so dirty – it all kind of made a twisted sort of sense.

Peter Parker [3:35PM]: It was a compliment. Peter Parker [3:36PM]: I did – it’s nice, I have to be proud when I can. Peter Parker [3:38PM]: Thank you – that’s all that I can ask for. Peter Parker [3:41PM]: I don’t have a good excuse as to why I didn’t. You were doing your thing, I didn’t think – I just went and did the same. Peter Parker [3:45PM]: I needed to figured things out – and I did exactly that. Just – a little too late.

When he didn’t get a response after that, Peter wasn’t all that surprised. Typing the words out felt lame and he knew there’d been no justice or retribution. At this point in either of their lives, it didn’t seem prudent for there to be – Tony had May, even if it still weirded him out a little bit to think about it. Peter made his decision six years ago, choosing himself over everything else. The least he could do was stand by that.

Making up excuses that would never explain the density of his want to figure himself out before he gave himself completely to another. And, wow did he want to give himself completely to Tony. Of course, there were better ways to go about it – there were much better ways. Stepping away from the situation, he formulated twenty, thirty – tons. Yet, Peter wasn’t sure he would have been able to pull off any of them without chickening out.

So – he dealt with the consequence. Hurting the person he loved the most, watching him with his cousin, feeling just the slightest bit incomplete – that was his penance. At least he knew he did the right thing for him. When the right person came around, no matter how much he wanted it to be Tony, he could genuinely and honestly be in it – giving himself would be so very easy. That thought made him just a bit more content – even if it didn’t keep him warm at night, it kept him sane.

The next couple of weeks went by quickly – he spent the days he didn’t go into the office wandering around the city, his heart truly full now that he was back. There truly was no place like home. When Ned and MJ found out he was back, they got together a couple times a week just to hangout and catch up. Ned worked for a computer engineering company and got to enjoy the spoils of his youth behind the keys. MJ taught at Midtown and came packed with the best gossip.

One night in the middle of June, the three of them were gathered around Peter’s coffee table, the remains of Chinese food scattered around. Peter had been in the city for four months now – each one better than the next. It felt good to be able to do what he wanted – to be able to afford copious amounts of food and stupid movies on DirectTV. They were watching the newest Men in Black when Peter’s phone vibrated. A soft smile slipped across his face when he noticed it was Tony.

For the first couple of days, it felt weird to be texting Tony so much. Tony sent him another message out of the blue the very next day that broke the weird spell of the past they decided to dredge up – and they’d been texting ever since. It remained casual – despite the vibe that Tony wouldn’t mind if it did. Peter wouldn’t, either – if he were being completely honest. But, May deserved more than that.

Glancing down at his phone, Peter felt his smile grow – Tony’s initial jump into conversation was always off the wall, always completely random.

Tony Stark [8:01PM]: Did you know that the state sport in Maryland is jousting? Tony Stark [8:03PM]: Like, legit medieval era shit.

Peter couldn’t hold back the laugh, despite not wanting to give himself away. He wasn’t ready to talk about any of it with anyone – but he’d already been caught out, MJ was too smart for her own good. “What, or I guess who, has got you smiling like that?” she quirked a brow at him, the lady like a bloodhound sniffing out a scent.

Biting into his bottom lip, Peter didn’t answer for a few seconds – his fingers too busy sending off a reply.

Peter Parker [8:07PM]: I did not know that. I’ve been to a Renaissance festival, so I’ve seen it – I couldn’t imagine that being a very practical sport, however. Peter Parker [8:08PM]: Did you find that on the back of a Laffy Taffy wrapper?

A warm feeling settled within him, the ease in which he could talk to Tony hadn’t gone anywhere – even with 6 years and a ton of baggage between them. Finally glancing up at MJ, he took a deep breath, the news he was about to give something that would probably confuse the fuck out of her. She was the only one he told about leaving for Minnesota, she knew how big of a deal it was to disappear like he did.

“It’s Tony,” Peter mumbled, his face heating, though his eyes never wavered.

In true Ned style, he jumped into the conversation randomly, his voice echoing around the room. “You mean like – Tony Stark? The Tony?” he asked, his entire body shifting, his attention now on Peter and MJ completely.

Blushing further, Peter nodded – his fingers brushing through his hair as he did. “The one and only. It’s weird – he’s dating May and I know that. And things are strictly friendly between us – but it could easily be something else.”

MJ moved a little closer, a hand pressing into his thigh. “I always thought it was a little weird that you were dating the golden boy. And when you left – I thought maybe that was the end. I don’t know, Peter – I hope you’re thinking about what you’re doing,” her voice sounded concerned, his heart warming a little at the sentiment.

“I am – I’m thinking about it, pretty frequently, actually. The last time I saw May, she didn’t talk about him much or bring him up at all, really. I can’t tell – but nothing is going to happen while he’s with May. Maybe he’ll stay with her, who knows,” Peter started to ramble, so he shut his mouth, his thoughts so scattered on the matter. Things were so natural, so easy – it made the whole situation a whole lot more confusing.

MJ brushed her long hair out of her face, an indifferent look in her eyes. From the get-go with Tony, MJ took that approach. She kept herself in it just enough to be a shoulder that Peter could lean against. “You’ll never convince me that he’s the great guy you say he is, but whatever you decide – I support you. Just don’t fuck up your relationship with May, we all know how important that is to you.” MJ stated, her eyes doing the smiling for her. She turned back to the TV and said nothing more.

As always, Ned followed suit. Shaking his head at the group antics, Peter shifted his focus back to his phone, his conversation with Tony completely absorbing him for the rest of the movie. He’d seen the movie before, anyway – the end was the only part that was really worth watching.

A couple hours later, MJ and Ned filed out of his apartment – Ned lightly punching his arm and MJ pulling him into a hug. She kept him in her arms for an extra second, her grip tight. “Be careful, okay? Can’t have you running away again.” Her words were whispered and driven home by the softest press of a kiss to his cheek.

He closed the door and leaned against it, the flurry of emotions from the evening hitting him – making everything he’d been thinking about magnifying tenfold. Nights with his friends were always fun, but stupidly exhausting – especially when MJ got into detective mode. In any other case, the details would have gladly come out of his mouth – it was nice to have friends he that he knew kept secrets like the pros that they were.

The collective thought of Tony still made him feel a bit raw. Like the wound could heal – he just didn’t know what the remedy was. A part of him knew he was dancing with the line, keeping his conversations with Tony going. Another part figured that they were both adults and could make sound decisions. Tony understood what he was doing just as well as Peter.

Which is why he was surprised to hear a knock on his door about ten minutes later. Checking his phone, he didn’t see a text from either Ned or MJ – though, it wouldn’t shock him if they just came stomping back in. At least they decided to knock instead of using his not so well-hidden spare key.

Pulling open the door, he started to speak, his mouth moving before his eyes bothered to take in what was in front of them. “What’d you guys forget – “ Peter picked up his head while he spoke, a soft smile on his face. Realizing who actually stood there, Peter straightened up, brown eyes wide. “Tony?”

Taken aback, Peter wondered for a second how the hell the man even found him. Though, he quickly realized he was dealing with a technology genius. He could also recall a conversation about an AI that dealt with most of Tony’s affairs. Licking his lips, Peter desperately tried to cure his dry mouth – just the sight of the other man enough to sweep his feet out from under him. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands still sticking up from earlier.

“Hey, Pete,” Tony started, one of his hands pressing into the doorframe, his body only a foot or so away from Peter’s. The tightness in his chest made him want to buckle in on himself – the feeling way too fucking much. He watched Tony draw in a deep breath, his eyes murky with a gale of emotions. “Jarvis told me where you lived. I hope it’s okay.”

And just like that, Peter was stepping back from the door, the both of them hovering in the hallway, the space between them narrowed down even more now. “It’s okay – it wouldn’t be you if you weren’t doing crazy shit like that.” He let a light laugh leave his lips, the exhalation of breath doing nothing to ease the tension inside of him. “Why are you – why are you here?”

Tony straightened his posture at the question, the softness in his eyes hardening a little. So – they were going to have a serious talk, then. Crossing his arms, Peter steeled himself for whatever Tony had to say. In all of the time they’d been reconnecting – this conversation never made its way back to the surface, at least, not until this very moment.

He watched color spread over the top of Tony’s cheeks, eyes dropping to look at their feet. “I always wondered when you stopped loving me. I told myself that’s what happened – because it made it easier to accept that you left. You didn’t though, did you? Stop. You’re just a selfish prick,” Tony got out, his words harsh, despite the soft tone they were delivered in. “I thought – maybe we could be friends. There’s been enough time for the hurts in my heart to be patched. I got over it a long time ago. I did not take into account, however – how I didn’t get over you.”

The words felt like a punch to the gut – not because he didn’t want to hear them. Oh, no – he’d been longing to hear those words for years now. Digging himself into a hole didn’t have to mean certain death – he thought maybe he could find his way back to Tony someday. The damage came from the fact that, despite the immensity of want coursing through him, Peter couldn’t act – wouldn’t.

“You haven’t said a singular false statement, Tony. I never stopped loving you. I took the only out I could find – you finding yourself and giving more and more of your time to it – and decided I needed to do the same. Once I mustered the courage, I knew it would be the only time, so I left. I wouldn’t have left otherwise. You, me – we deserve this Peter, the one who knows what he wants and can make it happen. I’m just – the king of bad timing,” Peter whispered the last few words, the reality of them feeling like the final smackdown.

A silence settled between them then, the tension in the room coming to a head. Thinking about it later, he couldn’t decide who made the move first – all of the sudden, Peter was wrapped up in Tony’s arms and they were kissing – kissing like their fucking lives depended on it. He felt long fingers slid into his hair and tug, the warm press of Tony’s torso against his own absolutely divine. His own arms wrapped around Tony’s middle, his body on fire from that simple little touch.

The inability to think kept him under the haze of their joined passion, his lips moving without thought or hesitancy. Tony’s tongue plunged into his mouth and Peter hung on for dear life, his own head tilting to deepen the kiss even further. His chest burnt from the lack of oxygen, but he couldn’t pull away – the second the high of his skin against Tony’s left, Peter’s conscience would reign supreme again.

Tony’s chocked off moan snapped the delicate spell controlling them, Peter’s body on fire, his mind all over the place. “Fuck. Stop – Tony. We have to stop,” Peter mumbled, his hands moving from the solid flanks of Tony’s sides to the bulk of his shirt, fingers digging in. “We can’t do this.” Even as the words were coming out of his mouth, he felt himself leaning in, his nose dragging over Tony’s. “This isn’t rejection – I just can’t. Not when you’re with May. I refuse to hurt her like that,” he pressed a final kiss to Tony’s lips and forced himself away – chest still heaving.

Both of Tony’s hands came up in surrender, the look in his eye resolute. “You’re right. You’re right. I’m sorry, Pete – I shouldn’t have come here like this.” He kept his glance tied to Peter’s, the other man still so easy to read – his hurt and confusion written plain as day.

“It’s okay, Tony. It’s okay.” Peter didn’t know what he was saying was okay, or even if it was – but the need to soothe took over. He reached forward and palmed Tony’s cheek, his thumb brushing over the arch there.

For a second, Tony leaned into the touch, the bourbon color of his eyes buried under closed eyelids. Peter trailed his finger back and forth, the digit moving until he felt a breath of air against his forearm and Tony was pulling away. He didn’t say anything, he simply opened the door and walked through it. His eyes trailed after the other man until he was down the hallway and out of sight.

This time, he shut the door and slid down it – his head falling into his hands.

----

Never prescribing to the age old ‘when it rains, it pours’ thing, Peter wasn’t expecting the knock on his door early the next morning. After Tony left, Peter barely made it to the couch before passing out into a fitful sleep. Between tossing, turning, and a mind that didn’t want to slow down and stop – Peter could count on two fingers how many hours of complete sleep he got. Sitting up, Peter looked groggily around the room, the disturbance in his sleep something he thought he might have dreamed up until another knock sounded.

“Peter, I know you’re home! I can see your open porch door from the street.” May’s voice was the last thing he figured he’d be hearing. The taste of Tony still lingered on his lips – Tony’s stubble making the skin above them a little raw, too. How in the world could he face May right now – when he hadn’t even had time to process what happened, or how he reacted, or even how Tony reacted.

Grumbling, Peter got up off the couch, his feet heavy in their steps towards the door. It felt like he spent the night before getting completely wasted, yet he didn’t have a singular sip. A couple of quick runs of his fingers through his hair and Peter finally felt ready to pull open the door and face whatever might come his way. Even if it was terrible.

Peter took a couple of deep breaths, his hand not wanting to move to actually get the damn door open. He braced himself, the idea that he might take a hand to the face or harsh words thrown his way that would eclipse him. There was nothing, though. May simply looked at him, two to-go coffee cups in her hands. “Are you going to let me in?” she asked, her voice neutral, the look in her eye hard to read.

He took a step back quickly, his arm sweeping wide. “Hi May, yes – please come in. I just got up, so my brain still isn’t working all that well.” It would have sounded like an excuse if he weren’t still shirtless with marks from the couch all over his right side. He stepped back further, the space now more of an open invitation that May took gracefully.

If this were a social call, they would have wandered to his makeshift bed of a couch and sat down – his cousin’s hands already moving to take the remote and put on whatever show she was currently addicted to. She would have jammed the coffee she was holding into the thickness of his chest, the joke of almost scolding him something they’d been doing since Peter came to stay with May and her family. The atmosphere would have been a little bit more accepting.

Yet, none of those things happened. May put his coffee cup on the middle of his kitchen table and sat down in one of the chairs. Knowing how different things would have been, Peter didn’t hesitate to take the seat opposite her, his hands wrapping around the warm to-go cup on instinct. He didn’t even take a second to put a shirt on – he simply sat down and waited, each second that past like a sweet torture.

Eventually, she pulled her phone out and started to flip through it, a concentrated look on her face. Finding what she needed, May pushed the phone over towards him. He took it a little hesitantly, his mind wandering around all of the possible things that could be on that phone. There wasn’t anyone else around when Tony came here last night – so with that, at least, they were in the clear.

His breath caught, though – the photo on her screen one he knew with familiarity, one that he glanced at more times than he cared to remember. The memory of the day the picture was taken still sat fresh in his mind. They were at Tony’s place, probably about a year into their relationship. They were celebrating the end of the semester and people were everywhere – the streaks and blurs in the background their friends caught in a second of chaos. Peter and Tony were in the middle of a conversation when MJ called over – “Snuggle up, love birds – let me take a picture.”

Peter could still remember how quickly Tony stepped up behind him, arms embracing without hesitation. They both beamed at the camera, the smiles on their faces so genuine. What Peter liked the most about it, though, was the fact that MJ caught them a second before they looked back at each other.

Peter’s face was turned as if he were trying to look over his shoulder, his smile bright and big but eyes oriented in Tony’s direction. The hand on his chest was splayed open wide, Tony’s fingers one of the main focuses in it. The look on Tony’s face showed affection and happiness – but most importantly, love.

MJ gave it to them both in a frame a couple of days later, the gorgeousness of it something that even she couldn’t deny.

Eyes a little watery, Peter looked up from the phone and over at May, a questioning look in his eye. “Where did you even find this?” Peter knew for a fact that his copy was tucked into the box in his closet – one in which he only allowed himself to go through every now and again, one that he specifically brought in and put away himself.

“It’s in Tony’s lab. We were supposed to meet for lunch a few weeks ago, but he couldn’t leave, so I met him there. He left for a minute to get cleaned up, so I snooped – because why not, right? There are a couple of the two of you, but that one is right in the middle of his workspace. He told me a little bit about this epic love he still wasn’t really over, and it never once crossed my mind that it was with you.” May stopped then, her hands reached across the table for his. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The soft touch of her hands felt like a drastic juxtaposition to the raging war of emotions keeping him right on the edge of panic. As a distraction, he watched her thumbs brush against his hands, the movement hypnotic, easy to get lost in. The lull seemed to help calm him a little – Peter glanced back up at her, apprehension still so very visible.

“I didn’t treat him well at the end. For a while, it was nice to have this thing that was all my own. And when it got serious, I freaked a little. I ran away because I felt too much. It was easier not to acknowledge it out loud – because telling you about him made the selfish thing I did a lot more real. It took a while to find me and then a while after that to cope with how big of a dick I am.” He paused then, taking a long breath.

“I never thought I’d see him again – never. Then, he’s sitting next to you and everything I have neglected for six years suddenly hit me square in the face. May, you seemed happy – I’ve been selfish enough,” Peter knew he had to get all of that out, or he probably wouldn’t, the acknowledgement of so many things harder than he ever imagined possible.

He gripped her hands, pulling them towards him a little. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you.” And that was the truth. Regardless of how badly he handled other things, Peter couldn’t be careless with something like that – May and her feelings. Even if that came at the cost of his own.

At that, she chuckled, her lips quirking into the first real smile on her face all morning. “I saw the way you two were talking to each other the day I introduced you. It doesn’t take a genius to know chemistry when you see it. The picture just sort of – put all the pieces together. It’s okay, Pete. Really.”

Quirking a brow at her, he pulled his hands away and sat more fully in his chair. “There’s nothing going on, May. I – “ Peter stuttered out, but she held a hand up, a soft little smile on her face.

“There’s nothing going on between Tony and I anymore, either. He came over last night, started to talk a bunch of nonsense. It seemed like a good time to tell him I’d been seeing someone else, anyway. You remember Ben? Either way – he is single and not attached to me, so you no longer have to factor hurting or upsetting me into any of your life choices.”

She got up then and came around the table, her arms engulfing Peter into a tight hug. “This is a lesson on when to keep secrets from me. I hope you learned that never is probably the best course of action,” she mumbled against the side of his head, Peter’s chest shaking with laughter before she let him go. And just like they were kids again, she slapped the back of his head hard, a cackle slipping from her lips. “Stop ignoring me, okay? Let’s be friends again.”

It took a few more minutes of banter back and forth for Peter to totally comprehend all the things May told him – he couldn’t get past the green light of acceptance; despite all the other juicy things he’d just been told. His mind immediately went to Tony, the thought of pulling his phone out and texting him flashing across his mind. Then, he realized just how much he missed May and put it on the back burner. If he were reading the room right the night before, he didn’t think Tony would be going anywhere anytime soon.

“Yeah, alright.” Peter said after a second, their eyes meeting. He could see nothing but clarity in those hazel eyes, a look he knew to be acceptance and contentment. It felt good to be able to read her again, the crippling guilt no longer between them. “I’m not going to the office today. Want to binge something on Netflix?”

Her lips pulled into a smile, the look in her eye mischievous – “Actually, I think we should find you something to wear to this,” she murmured, hands rummaging in her bag until an envelope came into view. Peter didn’t need to see the Stark Industries logo in the corner to know what she was referring to. The Stark Gala – the height of events for the engineering and technology society. It seemed kind of fitting, a reunion at one of these events after the shitty end to the last one.

A soft blush set in his cheeks then, a silent sort of understanding happening between them. This wasn’t just acceptance from May, but a push in the right direction, too. He took the envelope from her, then pulled her smaller frame into his arms. “Thanks, May.”

When they parted for the afternoon, May pulled him into another hug and wished him luck. The suit they picked out was going to look pretty damn good on him – even if it wasn’t one of the fancy custom-made ones. The whole time, it felt like being with May when they were younger, when there wasn’t a care in the world. Maybe that was because the trauma between them was officially over, or maybe May felt like she knew Peter a bit better. Whatever it was, Peter enjoyed the time thoroughly.

It felt like the first time since getting here that he wasn’t stressed or watching over his shoulder. Even though he enjoyed every single second of being back in the place that felt like home, there were so many things still trying to press him down and keep him there. The weight of his chain felt a few links shorter now. In hindsight, the simple truth would have been much easier than all the angst – but hey, that’s how lessons are learned.

There was just enough time to sneak in a nap – Peter grateful for that fact. They decided early into their conversation that the surprise of his presence would make much more of an impact than a text, so Peter kept control of himself and didn’t say a word to the other man. He could already picture the look on Tony’s face. With the rest of the night on his mind, Peter slept pretty peacefully – his body finally content with where things were headed for him.

Actually feeling refreshed upon waking up, Peter took his time getting dressed. The blue suit and light grey shirt combo looked great in the mirror at the store, the jacket fit his shoulders nicely and the slacks hugged the curve of his ass just right. With the addition of some product in his hair and a small white-gold chain around his neck, Peter looked ever better. It’d been a long time since he dressed up like this – he appreciated the view and hoped Tony would, too.

Peter splurged on the relatively expensive Uber into Manhattan, his conversation with Paula the driver helping to ease any nervousness that wanted to bubble up inside him. Surprisingly, though, there wasn’t much other than excitement coursing through him. No matter what happened, Peter felt a sense of freedom he didn’t before. If Tony decided the craziness they were able to build was what he wanted, Peter couldn’t wait to give himself completely to it. Finally.

It was pretty easy to slip out of the Uber and into the party without dealing with any of the press. They weren’t interested in someone like him. He gave his name and flashed the invitation to the man he remembered as Happy at the door – the exchange easy and over before he knew it. There were lots of people scattered around the upper floor of Stark Industries, the age range wide and varied and the dress much the same. Peter fit right into the people flitting around and used that as an advantage to scope out Tony.

Looking around, he felt a little disappointed when he didn’t see the man right off the bat. He decided to put the search on hold and get a drink when he felt a hand on his arm. “Hope you’re not leaving already.”

He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know who the hand belonged to – the ghost of Tony’s touch still haunted him on a pretty constant basis. A soft smile slipped across his lips, the other man’s presence did that to him – especially now that it didn’t come with the not so gentle pang of guilt. “No, not yet. I just now found what I was looking for.” Peter’s response was shift, said with confidence.

Tony tugged on his arm until they were facing each other, their chests almost pressing together. After so many years, it felt like the first time all over again – this dance they were doing. Their even height made it easy to catch amber colored eyes – the yellow tinted glasses Tony took to wearing enhanced the color of his eye, the depth of it so easy to get lost in.

“I’ve done my rounds for the night, come upstairs with me,” Tony mumbled, his voice just loud enough for Peter and Peter alone to hear. The warm caress of the liquid smokiness arousal always made Peter think of washed over him, his arms wrapping themselves around Tony’s neck. He pressed in for a kiss, the need unable to be denied. It stayed chaste for the sake of not being in public when things turned steamy.

“Lead the way, Tony,” Peter responded, his brain forcing his body to step away, to keep some space until he could have all of the other man. A work-roughened hand gripped his own, their fingers tangling – Tony led the way through the crowd seamlessly, his ability to fit in despite the sheer amount of attention he could attract was impressive. Probably learned from all the times he did his best to escape the charade over the years.

It was nice to see that some things never changed.

Once they were in the elevator, Tony didn’t hold back – this one led to his part of the penthouse, so they wouldn’t be disturbed. “I’m guessing May talked to you and this is your way of saying that it’s okay to do this,” Tony babbled before grabbing his cheeks and pressing their lips together, the kiss hot and on the right side of desperate. Peter figured he didn’t need to verbally answer, he gripped Tony’s hips instead and kissed back, his tongue pressing forward to join the warmth in the luscious caverns in Tony’s mouth.

Forgoing the tie ended up being a good idea, Tony’s hands were everywhere as they kissed, the tips moving from Peter’s cheeks, down his chin, neck, and under the slight gap of his button up shirt. Each place he touched felt like molten lava, the stroke of his fingers branding his skin – every inch becoming Tony’s once again. Finally, the elevator doors broke open, the dark comfort of Tony’s home just a couple steps forward.

Peter broke away then, his chest heavy from too much carbon dioxide, breaths coming in pants. “It’s okay. I want you, Tony. All of you. Because I finally know how to give all of me, too.” He used the lapels of Tony’s jacket to seal their lips back together, his feet working on their own accord, the path back to Tony’s room still etched into the forefront of his brain. Aside from bumping into the wall a couple of times, Peter and Tony were in the bedroom in no time.

Nimble fingers started to work on Peter’s shirt, Tony’s eye wide with eagerness and heat – the pupils blown open, taking over that precious brown warmth. His gaze made Peter feel a little on display, his skin on fire – the seconds passing making him feel like he needed to crawl out of it. A soft sigh of relief left his lips when the cool air hit his skin, the scalding deliciousness of Tony’s touch all of the sudden bearable again.

Quickly getting in on the action, Peter worked on Tony’s bow tie, the knot coming undone without much effort. Tony tried to press in for a kiss, but Peter kept some distance between them. “I’m going to cum in my pants if you keep doing that. It’s been a while – let me see you,” Peter stammered, his words lazy, the blood meant for his brain traveling lower, instead. He got all of the buttons open without fault, a look of triumph on his face. Greedy hands pushed the suit jacket and shirt off in one go, Tony finally shirtless – skin on display.

His fingers skimmed across tight pecs and prickled nipples, down across each of Tony’s ribs, and along the seam of his abdominals. The trail of hair Peter remembered so fondly seemed a little thicker, the change one of the only signs of aging he could really see. His dress pants sat on slim hips, a v on either side guiding his eyes to the real treasure. He could see the bulge there, Tony’s length long and eager, exactly the way he liked to remember it.

The rest of their clothes came off in a fumble to get onto the bed, Peter’s back hitting the mattress without any fight, a sigh of delight slipping from his lips when Tony settled over him. The weight felt divine, the tangibility of being pressed down amping up the slow spread of arousal tenfold. “Fuck, you feel good,” Peter gasped against Tony’s shoulder. The man was caressing his flanks, fingers moving reverently, like devotion and memorization were the only options.

The ticklish feeling kept him from getting too close to the edge too fast – Tony’s touches driving him crazy in so many ways. His hips rolled up every now and then, the semi-constant friction just enough to stave off the intense itch that needed to be scratched. Peter did his best to memorize the way Tony’s hips felt against his own, how the sweat on his brow rolled down so very slowly, how even after so much time – this felt so goddamn right.

Throwing his arms around Tony’s neck, Peter pulled him down for a fierce kiss, feelings overwhelming him, the earnestness of the interaction so much – everything he wanted. Their lips met for a sloppy kiss, tongues tangling between them, the taste of Tony in his mouth just as exciting as the slip slide of their bodies together. Peter’s fingers roamed through Tony’s hair, the softness of it a nice contrast to the heat overtaking them both.

The need to breath forced them apart, Tony’s forehead leaning down, resting against Peter’s. “I’ve missed you, Pete. So much,” the other whispered, the words kissing his cheeks in a tender brush. His eyes were closed, but Peter could tell he was trying to hold back tears or emotion – or maybe both.

With both hands, he cupped Tony’s cheeks, the other lifting his head enough for them to be looking into each other’s eyes. “I missed you. I’m here now, though – not going anywhere, either,” Peter said softly. He hoped to convey how genuine the words were – that despite how big of a shit he’d been, there still might be a future. He didn’t deserve it – but fuck did he hope for it.

“I won’t let you,” Tony replied, his cheeks lifting into a wide smile. “Jarvis can find you, so don’t even think about it.” He turned his head to press a kiss to Peter’s palm, his nose nuzzling into the same spot. “Can I fuck you?” Tony murmured into the skin there, his eyes hot and hopeful. Peter could feel Tony’s cock against his flat belly – the length throbbing at just the mention of pressing into him. Peter grinned and used his grip on Tony to slip their lips together once again.

“Fuck, yes – please, Tony. I want you.”

Tony didn’t need any more prodding after that, he moved until he was on the bed next to Peter. “Turn over onto your side,” he mumbled, his hands pushing and tugging at Peter’s hips until he turned over. “I’m going to make you feel good, Petey – promise.”

Peter elongated his neck and let Tony pepper kisses against the skin there, the man’s hands still working over lean sides. He threw a hand behind himself and grabbed Tony’s hair, his fingers gripping to keep him as close as possible, so that the other man couldn’t pull away, even if he wanted to. A gasp left his mouth when Tony’s wandering hands wrapped around the front of his body and started to teasingly stroke his cock.

The pulls started off slow, like he was trying to orient himself with Peter again. His fingers were rough, a little bit more scarred than the last time Peter felt his touch – and yet, still completely perfect. The tip of his cock was already leaking, so the glide of Tony’s hand was delicious, the friction faultless. With the slightest of thrusts, Peter could feel the other’s cock against his ass. “Mm, you’re so fucking hard,” Peter babbled, his hands tightening in Tony’s hair.

“Fuck me, please. I want to be yours again.” He thrust his hips back and ground into Tony, if the words weren’t enough, he hoped the move would be.

Tony pulled his lips away from Peter’s neck to pant against it, a soft groan leaving his lips. “God, Pete – I, you’re too much,” he murmured, his hips thrusting forward again, his fingers tightening around Peter’s length. “I can’t wait to feel you.” He squeezed Peter again, then the fingers were gone – Tony’s hand now slipping down to slip between pert ass cheeks.

There were a few soft teases to Peter’s hole before Tony was pulling back – the mattress dipping with his weight. Peter immediately felt the cold of the room clinging to his back, the sweat there staring to dry. Absentmindedly, he let his hand trail down his chest – his fingers ghosting straight down his abs, the tips teasing along the sensitive skin there. His nerves were on fire and he couldn’t let that tingly sensation die down for a single second.

The warmth was back within a couple of minutes, Tony’s hand trailing down his side, the other tucking under Peter’s neck to keep him close. “Tuck this leg up a little,” Tony whispered, lips brushing against Peter’s ear. Complying quickly, he bent his leg – a moan leaving his lips when Tony’s finger filled the newly made space. The barely there touch had him clenching his eyes, mouth open wide. “Fuck!”

The snick of a lube cap opening pulled another sound from his chest, anticipation settling low in his belly, the heat there compounding with it, his cock dribbling a bit of precum at the thought of what was to come next. The first touch of the lube was cool on his skin – and immediately forgotten, the first press of Tony’s finger into him after so much time exquisite, painful, and just right – just enough to distract him.

He couldn’t help the constant stream of ‘Tony’ leaving his lips, each thrust of one, two, and then three fingers shredding ever sense of self and control and conscious thought. It was only Peter and Tony and the aching touches that could tear him apart and then delicately piece him back together. “I’m ready, Tony – I’m ready.” His words were desperate, as was the hand that shot behind him to get a nice grip on Tony’s hair again. “Please – “

“I’ve got you, Pete,” Tony said, his fingers pulling out, only to be replaced with the warm head of the other’s cock. Tony pressed his hips against his loosened hole and thrust forward slightly, just the tip slipping inside. Peter let his jaw drop in a silent moan. He felt Tony’s grunt against his neck before hearing it, the gust of breath sending goosebumps cascading across his skin.

Inch by inch, Peter felt himself relax and accept more of Tony – the stretch turning from a sheer burning sensation to delectable with every passing second. Then, Tony hooked an arm under his already tucked leg, the move opening him up further.

The last couple of inches were easier now, Peter’s hole exquisitely stretched and full – the press of Tony’s hips against his own the best part of all. “Fuck, you’re so tight. You’re clenched around me like if I pull out, you’ll never be whole again,” he babbled, hips pulling back ever so slightly.

Just like Tony said, Peter clenched down a little tighter around him, his heart rate picking up with the sweet ache of his hole stretching further. “Maybe I won’t be,” Peter responded, his eyes closing, Tony’s cock slipping almost all the way out of him, the head resting just past the ring of muscles. He already felt empty, the rightness of being filled missed dearly.

The teasing roll of his hips didn’t last, though – Peter clenched each time he tried to pull out and before long, Tony was panting heavily against his neck, the snap of his hips long and hard. “Harder, Tony – more,” Peter ground out, his jaw clenching with ever thrust in, the tip of Tony’s cock hitting his prostate dead on.

Leaning into Peter more heavily, Tony pressed his leg down until he was almost up on his knees, the weight pressing him fully into the mattress. “I’m so close. Touch yourself – “ Peter barely heard, Tony’s words spliced with pants and groans. He could feel the pulse of Tony’s cock inside of him, the harder and faster he moved, the more it seemed to thrum in time with their joint heartbeat.

It took a second for Peter to register the plea – he was creeping closer and closer to the edge, it felt hard to focus on anything. He complied, though, his fingers gripping tightly and stroking at the same pace as Tony’s thrusts. There was no holding back after that, the boiling heat in his stomach finally bubbling over – each spasm of his body drawing shot after shot of cum from his body. “Ah, Tony!”

He barely felt the hard bite against his shoulder blade, the world tilted on a different axis at the moment. The warmth of Tony finishing inside him kept him grounded, though – his hole tightening to keep him there, deep and exactly where he should be. Tony mumbled Peter’s name over and over again, his forehead coming to rest against the back of his neck.

It was a few minutes before Peter felt with it enough to move or talk or even feel his limbs. He felt Tony slip out and the delicious feeling of cum dripping from his hole – then he sunk into the mattress further, everything about him boneless. Tony’s weight pressed against him a moment later.

The room was quiet when Peter came down enough to turn a little, his arm reaching back to pet at Tony’s bare skin. “Let’s go shower – I’m gross,” Peter said softly, a chuckle leaving his lips when arms wrapped around his waist, Tony sink down into him a little further.

“Do we have to?” Tony whined, his nose brushing Peter’s ear, every breath he took ruffling the hair there.

“I need to,” Peter retorted, the man using his arms to push up a little, his leverage dislodging Tony from his back. “The way you had me pinned down, I came all over myself – I’m already a little itchy.” He moved until he could sit up – the cooling cum on his chest making him pull a face. Tony’s arm reached out to attempt to pull him down once more, but Peter avoided it – a soft smile on his face when he looked over his shoulder. “Come join me if you want.”

Luckily, not a lot had changed about the bathroom, the shower was a little bigger – but Jarvis was easy enough to access, the water starting without much of a hassle. Peter stepped under and let out a relieved grunt – the nerve endings of his skin still sensitive, the hot water just enough to ease that feeling a little. He stood there letting the water sleuth over him – the peace of it nice after such an adrenaline-fueled event.

The shower door opening a few minutes later didn’t surprise him – he simply relaxed into the arms that wrapped around his waist. “Will you stay?” Peter heard, his head tilting to the side to accommodate Tony’s head resting on his shoulder. “I just got you back, I don’t know if I can let you leave now.”

Pressing his head against Tony’s, Peter let his hands grab onto the ones around his waist – the grip tight. “I’ll stay. For as long as you’ll have me.”

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever - Chapter two

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Warnings: *Steve Rogers voice* language

Chapter one

Moving can be an incredibly long and stressful process. Unless you’re me, and life likes to throw a lot of curve balls at you for the utter hell of it. My dad dropped dead three weeks after I told Andy I was moving to New York. Coincidentally, right in the middle of me trying to find a place to live. He drank himself to death. Figures. I doubt I’d ever had a conversation with him that he was sober enough to remember. His untimely demise was unfortunate for him, because he died or whatever, but very fortunate for me. As his only living child, I got his apartment in Queens.

I said my goodbyes to Andy and Dani after a night out in the streets of San Francisco. I was pretty quiet. I was gonna miss my friends and my home. I knew I’d be back eventually, but leaving a place I once called home always made me sad. I moved to San Francisco a few months after graduating high school. After Mary died, I had no intention of staying home. I wanted to get out of New York and forget the past. Andy got into UCSF and I took a gap year to start working as an investigative reporter. He proposed to me the night of graduation and I said yes. Looking back, a dumb idea all around. But we were 18 and in love. It’s not like I had any parental figures stopping me from making a rash decision like that at a young age. I left and didn’t plan on looking back. Now, I was spending my last few hours in San Francisco with the very boy made me come and the very girl who made me leave.

“Are you all packed?” Dani asked me. I snapped out of my thoughts and looked at her.

“Pretty much. I gotta put my toothbrush and hairbrush in my suitcase in the morning. Other than that, I’m good to go.” I answered her. She smiled fondly at me. I was glad Dani and I could avoid the cliches of hating each other. Afterall, she was engaged to my ex-fiancé. She was living the life I thought I would I be living. And yet, I had no resentment towards her. And she was never anything but nice to me.

“Hey, I’m really gonna miss you. More than that guy over there.” I whispered, nodding towards Andy who had his head buried in his phone. Dani laughed and linked arms with me.

“I’m going to miss you too. You’re like my best friend.” She said sadly.

“I’m glad we’re friends. Most women in our position would hate each other.” I thought out loud.

“Uh uh. You’re thinking of women in films. It’s 2019, baby. Women support women. You and I are two talented, smart, beautiful women who would never be caught fighting over some boy. Especially not one who can’t take his eyes off his phone for two seconds.” Dani said loudly and smacked Andy’s arm. I laughed at the domestic moment. I couldn’t help feeling a pain in my heart knowing he used to be that way with me.

“What, sorry?” Andy looked up. Dani and I looked at each other and laughed.

“What’s funny?” He asked.

“We’re laughing at you babe. Put your phone away. It’s Y/N’s last night here.” Dani scolded. Andy reluctantly put his phone in his pocket.

“Right, sorry. And it’s not her last night here. She’s coming back. You are coming back, right?” He asked me. I nodded, though I wasn’t entirely sure.

“Of course I’ll be back. I just want to experience something new for a while. I’ve done a million pieces on homelessness and poverty. I want to see what fresh stories New York has to offer.” I said.

“You’re quoting the Daily Bugle, aren’t you?” Dani teased.

“That is verbatim what they said to me. But hey, it worked. As of tomorrow, I’m the Daily Bugle’s newest reporter.” I said proudly. I was thankful for my job experience in San Francisco. Most places wouldn’t hire someone with just a high school education.

“Who are you reporting on anyway?” Andy asked.

“Some guy named Cletus Kasady. Apparently he’s some hot shot serial killer down in Queens.” I told him.

“And they want you to write the story on him?” Dani asked.

“Well they heard about the whole Carlton Drake situation and decided I hadn’t been through enough trauma in my career.” I replied, earning a laugh from Dani and Andy. I gave an awkward chuckle, seeing as I was genuinely traumatized. Carlton Drake freaking stabbed me.

We continued on with our night and made the most of it. In the morning, Venom and I got on our plane and made our way to New York. Being on a plane with Venom is the equivalent to traveling with a toddler. I tried to sleep, but every two seconds I had to stop Venom from getting into trouble. She kept trying to open the window. After I explained to her everyone on the plane would I die horrible death if the window were to open, she only tried harder.

“Stop that.” I whispered. The lady in the seat next to me shot me a look. I gave her a fake smile and turned back to the window. I did my best to conceal the small black tendril that was coming out of my body and fidgeting with the airplane window.

“I want it open.” Venom replied.

“Do you also want us to blow out of the plane and into space?” I said through my teeth.

“I didn’t anticipate that but it’d be appreciated.” Venom answered. Curse her sarcasm. The rest of the plane ride followed in similar fashion.

Seven hours later, I arrived at the apartment building. I’d never been to my dads apartment. I didn’t even know he had one. He must’ve moved in after I left for San Francisco. I wondered what happened to our childhood home as I looked around the place. The apartment wasn’t too small but not too big either. The rent was practically nothing compared to how expensive San Francisco was. I figured after some redecorating and moving in, it would make a fine new home.

“We should check out the mail and laundry unit. I don’t want a repeat of last month.” I grimaced.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t do your laundry for a month and ran out of clothes to wear. And we both know you enjoyed wearing me as a jumpsuit for a few days.” Venom defended.

“We looked amazing, but the looks I got in the stairwell were too much to handle.” I reminded.

The first seven days in the apartment went smoothly. I unpacked, with little to no help from Venom, and set up my furniture. On the eight day, I sat on the couch, aimlessly flipping through channels in the TV when I had a thought.

“Oh shit.” I said out loud.

“What?” Venom, who was curly nestled around my neck like a neck pillow, asked.

“I forgot mail exists. We better go check the mailbox before it overflows.” I said.

Venom and I grudgingly walked to the mailboxes and back again. No one was around, so she manifested herself and rested on my shoulder as I looked through the mail.

“Shit. I grabbed someone else’s mail too. I gotta find them.” I said when I read a name on an envelope that wasn’t my own.

“Let’s go.” Venom said.

“Sorry babe. This is a me thing, not a we thing. You know I love you but I don’t want to scare our neighbors. Not yet anyway.” I reasoned. Venom grumbled and went back inside.

I knocked on the doors of the people around me and asked their names to see if it matched the one on the mail I accidentally took. I figured they had to be close to me if I accidentally grabbed their mail. It wasn’t the best way to meet my new neighbors. I felt like I was saying “Hi, I’m Y/N L/N and I’m a complete dumbass. Nice to meet you!”

I got to the apartment across from mine after checking with the people next to me. I knocked on the door and patiently waited for someone to open it. I looked at the name of the envelope again realized the address matched the one on the door. I hadn’t even thought to check the address. In the midst of me realizing just how stupid I actually was, the door opened.

“Hi, are you May Parker?” I asked. I looked up and my face instantly flushed. The person staring back at me definitely wasn’t May Parker. It was a boy around my age, maybe a little younger. He had soft brown eyes and wavy brown hair. It was felled back loosely and I could see the outoline of soft curls. He was just as flushed as I was. We stared at each other for a moment. I swear he didn’t blink once.

“Yea. I’m May Parker.” The boy said finally. He shut his eyes in embarrassment and shook his head.

“I mean, no I’m not. But that’s my Aunt. May is my Aunt but I’m not May. That’s my Aunt May. I’m her nephew…obviously. Aunt May is my Aunt May. I…what?” He stumbled over his words and somehow turned even redder. His blush reached all the way down his neck, to his blue jumper that read “Midtown Tech” in yellow letters. So he’s a high school student. And he looked pretty good in red and blue.

I smiled warmly at him.

“Well hello, not May Parker. I’m also not May Parker. But I seemed to forget that when I grabbed your mail this morning. Sorry about that.” I said sheepishly. I handed his mail to him and he took it quickly. He rubbed the back of his neck and attempted to redeem himself.

“It’s not problem. She and I always forget to check the mail so you actually helped us, um, whoever you are.” He said. His voice was cute. He had that Queens accent that the people of San Francisco lacked, for obvious reasons. I hadn’t realized how much I missed it until I heard his voice. Or maybe I just liked the way he spoke.

“Oh, right. I’m Y/N L/N. I just moved here from San Francisco. I live across the hall.” I pointed to the door behind me as if he didn’t know what “across the hall” meant. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I was never this awkward.

His eyes lit up a bit.

“Really? I thought that smelly guy lived there.” The boy said. I stifled a laugh.

“That smelly guy was my father. He died a little while ago so I live there now.” I said. The boys eyes widened. They were so brown. Like little pools of honey. Or little pools of the Hudson River. I had seen a million pairs of brown eyes before, but none like his. They were quite distracting to be honest.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I had. I had no idea-“ he began to frantically apologize but I cut him off.

“Don’t worry about it. We never got along. And you’re right, that man stank.” I chuckled. It was the first thing I said that felt like myself. I hadn’t really talked to anyone since I moved back home, with the exception of Venom and the occasional phone call from Andy or Dani. I liked talking to this boy, though I still had no idea who he was. His face softened and I saw him relax.

“Oh thank God. I thought I screwed this up before it even went anywhere.” He said. He immediately turned red. This boy just kept blushing and blushing. I saw the regret in his eyes at what he said. I decided to throw him a bone.

“Well it certainly can’t go anywhere until you tell me your name.” I drawled. Again, he relaxed. I felt a surge of confidence knowing he wanted this to go well.

“Parker. I’m Parker Peter. I mean Peter Parker.” He fumbled. I smiled fondly at him.

“I like him. He’s cute.” Venom said telepathically. I looked down at my shoes and blushed. I liked him too.

“And he looks delicious.” She added. I rolled my eyes.

“It’s nice to meet you Peter Parker. I’m glad there’s someone my age around here. Everyone I’ve met so far is either an old bitty or a creepy uncle type. “ I said. I regretted it though. I didn’t know what his sense of humor was like. Lucky for me, he burst out laughing.

“Ah. I’ve seen you’ve met Henry. Yea I’d stay away from him. He asked me if he could have pictures of my feet once. He said he’d “pay me handsomely” for it too.” Peter quipped. I laughed for the first time in days.

“I did meet him. I asked him if he was May Parker and all he said was “If you want me to be, baby”. When I tell you I ran, I ran.” I said. Peter laughed again. The sound of his laugh made my heart pick up speed. I wasn’t used to feeling like this. Boys rarely impressed me. It took Andy months to get my number during our freshman year of high school. But something about Peter drew me in. I felt as though I never wanted our conversation to end.

“Yea you better stay away from him.” Peter advised.

“It might be hard. Our mailboxes are pretty close. I’ll make a mental note to never check my mail while wearing flip flops though.” I said. Peter smiled. I almost fell over. He didn’t exactly have lips, but his smile still lit up his whole face. He had the kind of smile that you would make the person laugh and keep them laughing just to see it. It was brilliant.

“Well my mailbox should be directly above yours. So don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” He grinned. I grinned back.

“My hero.” I gushed. The tips of his ears went pink. He seemed shocked that I said that.

“I’m no hero.” He answered. He sounded almost panicked, like I touched a nerve or something.

“I’m hungry. We need to eat.” Venom interrupted abruptly, causing me to jump. Since Peter couldn’t hear her, he looked at me strangly, not knowing the cause of my sudden jolt.

“Sorry, I uh, I thought I saw a spider.” I said lamely.

“If there was a spider, I’d eat it. We need food. Now.” Venom demanded.

Peter looked up at his doorframe for the imaginary spider.

“Yea, New York is full of them.” Peter commented. Oh right. He thinks I’m from San Francisco.

“I know. I grew up here. I only lived in San Francisco for a year.” I told him. Peter looked impressed.

“I didn’t know that. But I guess, I don’t know anything about you seeing as we just met. Would…” he trailed off, seemingly mulling something over in his head. “Would you like to eat dinner with my Aunt and I? I remember when we first moved in, it took us a while to get into the swing of things and make dinner every night. If you like, you could join us. And, you know, we could get to know each other.” He said. It all came out in one breath. I could tell he was nervous. That only drew me in more. I smiled warmly at him.

“I’d love to Peter.” I said. He smiled in relief. My heart melted.

“Great. We usually eat around six so maybe come around then? She’ll be so happy to meet you. She loves cooking and she always tries to get me to learn but I once burnt cereal and I still don’t know how.” Peter began to ramble. He cut himself off and shook his head again.

“Sorry. I’m rambling.” He said, embarrassed. Then, I did something stupid. I put my hand on his arm like the dumb bitch I am. I barely knew this guy. Who the hell was I to touch him? He must’ve been thinking the same thing. He instantly froze under my touch and stared at my hand on his arm.

“Don’t apologize. I can’t cook either. Unless you count making tater tots as cooking. Then I’m Gordon Ramsey.” I assured him. I felt Peter relax under my touch.

“You’re just gonna mention tater tots without warning me first? My mouth is watering. Can we eat Peter?” Venom asked.

If it was socially acceptable to scream at your symbiote in public, I would’ve yelled “NO, WE CANNOT EAT PETER.” from the top of my lungs. But I didn’t want to scare Peter and the rest of my neighbors away. So I merely smiled and made another mental note to smack the shit out of Venom later.

“I love that man. “Where is the lamb sauce?” Peter mimicked in a bad British accent. I smiled at the boy. He had no right being as charming as he was.

“No no no. His best line is “I’ll get you more pumpkin and I’ll ram it right up your fucking ass. Would you like it whole or diced?”. He’s said some pretty wild things but that one takes the cake.” I said. Peters laugh rang through the halls. To be the cause of that laugh was a feeling like no other. I smiled proudly.

We stood there for a while, just looking at each other. His eyes grazed down my body, but not in a crude way. I berated myself for not dressing better when going to meet the neighbors. I was in my signature grey hoodie and some leggings. Peter looked cute though, but I had a feeling he always did. His jumper was pretty baggy and I could see a collared shirt poking out the top. He didn’t dress like a typical teenage boy. He dressed almost professionally and I found it incredibly endearing. We took each other in in our entirely and I don’t know about him, but I liked what I saw. I wanted to know more about him. I wanted to know his secrets and his hobbies and what makes him itch. I wanted to see if he dresses this way on weekends too or what his summer clothes looked like. Our gawking was interrupted by Peters phone ringing. He broke out of his trance and answered it quickly.

“Hi Mr. Stark. No I’m not busy. I mean, I’m super busy but I can totally make time for you. Yea, Happy talked to me. Okay. Okay. Where? Okay. See you in a bit.” Peter said. He hung up and looked at me apologetically.

“That was my job. I have to run but I’ll be back in time for our dinner. I live at…you know where I live. I’ll see you then. Don’t be late.” Peter called as he ran down the hallway, towards the elevator.

“I won’t. See you later.” I called back.

I went back to my apartment and like a kid, broke out into a dance.

“Venom!! Did you see how cute he was? And how funny he is? I have to get ready for tonight.” I said frantically. Venom manifested and swirled around my arm.

“Someone has a crush.” Venom smirked. Well, as much of a smirk as she could muster with that huge mouth of hers.

“I don’t have a crush. I just think he’s cute okay?” I replied. Cute. And funny and sweet and charming and amazing. But that’s it.

“I can feel your heart beat, dipshit. It was going ten miles an hour. What would Andy say?” Venom asked. I stopped in my tracks. I forgot all about Andy. I moved here to avoid his wedding and his moving on, and I might’ve succeeded.

“I don’t care what he’d say. He’s not my boyfriend.” I retorted.

“But you want him to be. We want him back, remember?” Venom said. I looked at her.

“I don’t know what I want. I just want to get ready for tonight.” I replied. I turned on my shower and waited for the water to warm up.

“Why are you getting ready now? You have 5 hours until you have to be there and it’s right across the hall?” Venom teased. She knew damn well why I was getting ready now.

“Only 5 hours? We better get moving.”

Tag list 🏷

@monimiin @truthdaze @honeyccoated @constellationswithapurpose @condy-wants-a-cookie @zipp0flare

[aelaer]

Compare/contrast Benedict Cumberbatch’s portrayal of Sherlock & Strange?

Ah ha ha anon, you understand my propensity to write essays regarding basically, uh, anything that interests me. And character analysis for my favorite characters is definitely one of those things I can ramble about.

I’m going to assume you specifically want me to compare the two character portrayals with each other as opposed to the source material, so that’s what I’m going to do. This write up assumes all four seasons of Sherlock and all MCU films with Stephen in them as canon.

This topic is something I especially considered when writing the both of them in a crossover as they had to be two distinct souls despite their similarities, beyond their abilities. The two characters are very similar to the point that some folks have difficulty in distinguishing the both of them as separate characters. I saw this a bit when Doctor Strange was first released. Some writers from the Sherlock fandom tried their hand at writing him, and there was a lot of Sherlock bleeding through in a handful of the attempts I read. It wasn’t until I was head-deep in the MCU that I really noticed this myself, which goes to show just how similar they can be.

The similarities are easy: both very intelligent, masters in their chosen fields, arrogant, not always personable, are vain when they’re in a good headspace, and went through large moments of growth that reshaped some of their personality to overall make them better human beings.

It’s the differences that may be harder to figure out, and these differences also vary depending on what point of time in canon you’re looking at the character as they both went through life-changing events. Still, there are some core personality points that remain:

Stephen’s primary drive for knowledge is to achieve a goal. Sherlock’s primary drive for knowledge is for the sake of knowledge. While there is definitely some overlap (such as Stephen’s library of music release albums and dates, and Sherlock’s research into solving a crime), it seems to me that Stephen’s whole learning structure is built upon achieving a goal. Studying for his PhD and MD at the same time was all to enter the field more quickly so he had more time to hone his craft and become the best, and prove it to everyone. Going to Nepal and beginning to learn magic were all for the sake of curing his hands. We haven’t seen much of him after he pivoted his goal into protecting Earth and reality, but all the spellwork we see from him in Ragnarok, IW, and Endgame certainly seem to have been learned with that idea in mind. Sherlock, on the other hand, clearly likes studying things for the sake of knowing things. Unlike Stephen who has an achievement in mind before starting to go for it, Sherlock starts studying things before it necessarily becomes something that he knows for certain he will deal with. Take categorizing the 243 types of tobacco ash. If he came across tobacco ash in a case, I imagine that he’d be more than able to compare ash to the top 20 brands and find a match 99% of the time. While he may claim it is for a future case, you don’t do that unless you genuinely enjoy the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake. There is just no guarantee that it will be of any practical use in the future, while we know for certain Stephen’s research for his primary goals is to find solutions to problems both immediate (his hands) and imminent (bad things coming to bother Earth). (And this is one reason I consider Stephen a Slytherin and Sherlock a Ravenclaw, though both could have Ravenclaw and Slytherin as secondaries, respectively.)

Stephen is more interested in the praise, acceptance, and friendship of those he sees as peers and equals. Sherlock is decidedly less interested. This changes a bit through their character arcs, especially Sherlock’s, but let me see if I can explain this clearly. At the beginning of Doctor Strange, we see Stephen performing a surgery in front of residents (or med students, I don’t know), playing a music game with his assistant, and joking with his fellow surgeon. He asks Christine to join him at a dinner conference which is again, about his accolades. He likes getting the respect and admiration of his peers and those he considers friends, like Christine, straight from when we first meet him. When we first meet Sherlock, he doesn’t bother to explain why the ladder being green matters to Greg in the text. He asks for his name to be left out of the papers and definitely doesn’t do his work to impress the police force. If he was looking to get their admiration, he’d act a bit; we know that he can act. But he just doesn’t care what his peers (the police force) think of him at all. It’s not until John enters the picture that Sherlock starts showing off more by explaining his thought processes. Something about John intrigues him, and that grows exponentially when John saves his life at the end of the first episode. I’ve read fics where John’s described Sherlock as a peacock, but he really wasn’t like that until John came around, if the green ladder text and wanting to be kept out of the papers/public eye is any indication. Stephen, however, was most definitely the peacock. Stephen’s interest in acceptance pivots to the Masters of the Mystic Arts when he comes a student by his joking with Wong and Mordo. He’s interested in proving himself to them and gaining their praise and later on (I imagine) their friendship, though sadly we don’t have enough canon film time to see how his relationship with other sorcerers has grown since his first film. He’s likely conceded to the fact that his work is more secretive now, but for those in the know, he wants their acceptance and potential friendships. Sherlock’s bubble expands to wanting the acceptance and praise of maybe five people at most by the end of Season 4, but again, he’s not greatly interested in what his peers amongst the police force think. Wider praise and larger friendships has never been in the books for him. He’s completely content with the small group about him.

Stephen is on the extrovert side of the Myers-Briggs scale,  and Sherlock is on the introvert side. This slightly differs from his comic book self here; comic book Stephen is much more introverted. MCU Stephen isn’t a huge extrovert, but is obviously fully comfortable surrounded by people and being the star of the show, as seen by the beginning of the film. He’s fully content to do activities that are known as more “introverted” such as reading, but a love of reading doesn’t mean one is automatically an introvert. He doesn’t strike me as a personality that would get exhausted when needing to deal with people for longer amounts of time, as I’ve known the introverts in my life to be. Stephen is simply content both alone and with others, and when with others, he likes to show off from time to time. Sherlock, on the other hand, isn’t interested in the attention from the wider world and making friends. All of his preferred activities don’t involve other people and he definitely finds the idea of having to deal with people and societal norms tedious. If he’s showing off, it’s to impress a specific person as opposed to entertain a crowd. And unlike Stephen, I could see Sherlock being exhausted by parties and generally avoiding talking to most people, while Stephen, so long as he’s with a group with similar interests, could definitely talk about it for some time - whether it’s neuroscience or even the same music tastes.

Stephen is more sympathetic than Sherlock. This is not to say that Sherlock lacks sympathy, but as a detective he really has to have a cold detachment to the victims in order for emotions not to override his ability to do his job. This detachment is vital for surgeons as well when operating, and at the beginning of Doctor Strange Stephen could be considered too far in the cold detachment realm in selecting his patients, thinking about his record rather than if a procedure would be in the best interest of the patient due to health risks. This changes immensely with the loss of his career and his new path in life. I think the sympathetic tendencies of both characters can be best seen in how they deliver bad news to strangers:

The Sherlock screencap is from Season 4 Ep 1 (I wanted to select something after the hiatus and Magnusson so I had him after his growth). He’s telling a couple that their son tried to surprise them but ended up suffocating to death by accident. That look isn’t rude, but it’s very by-the-book, delivering the facts with very little emotion. Stephen is from Infinity War, before going through the Time Stone and whatever mess he dealt with in there. He’s telling Tony, not too long after meeting him, that the Time Stone comes above the lives of all of them, he and Peter included. The emotion that comes out on top is a grim determination, but even delivering this news, I would not say that it lacks sympathy. It’s a “this is how it has to happen; I’m sorry” type of emotion. The sympathy in his expression expands exponentially after the Time Stone, but canon hasn’t confirmed just how well he got to know the others. Was he just browsing through and pressing the “forward” button to view futures, or was he living through possible futures? The films haven’t told us yet. Hopefully we get clarification at some point. But that’s why I chose this screencap as opposed to the more obvious Time Stone scene. I think there’s further examples of their levels of sympathy such as Stephen’s reaction to the zealot he killed. One thing they are equal on in sympathy, though, is when it affects someone they care about. Sherlock is incredibly sympathetic to John after his loss, and the care Stephen shows to the Ancient One as she’s dying is very poignant.

Now there are also differences in their physicalities that Benedict does a fantastic job of portraying, such as the subtle shaking in Stephen’s hands in several scenes and Sherlock’s own hand gestures that vary completely from Stephen. They also move differently, and they move differently depending on their moods. He’s done a phenomenal job of distinguishing the two characters through physical motion alone.

Thanks for the interesting ask, anon.

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

Okay, so let me take this back to a week or two ago.

I owe one of my roommates 1200 dollars. My rent is 800 bills included. I make ten dollars over what counts for me getting no food stamps of financial assistance. I kept going to this job, because i was hoping that an opening would soon happen for me to get a job that i had before the closure of the other location. The explanation of this, in order to make it remotely interesting, would be a story in and of itself and would take too long.

I have had a rough go of it. I fell back into an eating disorder this winter, i went to home feeling sick and cold and heartbroken. Every night. I was completely isolated, i never went to anyone's house, i stopped even seeing a future for myself. the best days i had were ones where i would walk around the mall and stare at clothing i couldn't afford. Because the guy i was in love with randomly flipped on me one morning and told me to leave. I felt completely used, and gross about myself, and i just stopped eating. My bus home always took an hour and a half, i was shaking starving and so fucking poor that even if i wanted to eat more i couldn't afford it. I wanted to cry on the bus after work every night, but i forced myself to choke it down. I listened to last podcast on the left constantly to entertain myself. I texted him even though he had hurt me, and he ran back and apologized after, but somehow it was never the same. I'm not even mad. It just wasn't the same.

Anyway, i snapped about three weeks ago. I woke up, did my budget, and realize the reason i was having such a hard time was that i was literally not making enough money. Everything was about suppression and reduction of needs, to the point where i had very few enjoyments, and i was becoming so lonely i was becoming neurotic. And the more neurotic and lonely i became, i feel like the less people would want to hang out with me. After awhile, any attention i got from this guy was better than nothing. If i didn't have someone that paid some attention to me i was losing my will to even get up in the morning. Because what is the point of getting up for nothing, to do another day that makes you sad, with no purpose or friends? I felt like i was withering away, and nobody would even notice when i was finally just gone. I mean, maybe that is for the best, but i don't know. I feel like the initial love i poured into coming to this city has become dark and uncertain, and i miss the early days a lot. I feel like i am always chasing a feeling, that i am whatever chemical combination is hitting my neurotransmitters.

I made the decision to find a better job, realizing I wasn't going to get out of this mess unless i had money to at least rid myself of the basic and constant fear of not having enough. I'm tired of being in debt. So, i kinda did that. I ended up getting offered this job, and i just let myself run around with my money moreso, for the last few weeks with the mindset that i would have at least seven hundred more a month. I stopped dieting (unfortunately gaining back some weight). It's not that i don't need to diet, but i need something to distract myself if i am going to run around shaking with hunger all the time. I can't live on self hatred, at least not for too long.

Then, the covid 19 virus just started spreading, and at first it was nothing, but then i kind of turned into this thing where sickly people are going down in numbers.  And now nobody is going to hire me because all restaurants are closed and the economy fell apart and everyone is pretty scared, i got laid off from the place i work at now, which i feel like it's not even going to reopen at this point. Thousands of workers in the city just like me now have no way to pay their rent, meanwhile the hospitals will likely continue to fill with patients, and grocery stores are half empty, and this is just a small taste of what the future likely holds. So even when this virus comes and goes and does it's damage, i think things like this are just going to keep happening. And rich people will be fine, but poor people won't be. I mean, funny memes aside. Our entire economic system and healthcare system and so many things are going to collapse in my lifetime, it seems futile to even try to make it now. I know that sounds really pesimistic.

The last few weeks i have been meeting him in secret, but he's not really cuddly like before, and he seems like he wants me to be gone when he's done with me, and he dotes on his other friends and I just feel very taken for granted and when we are with our friends who aren't supposed to know, i just don't feel like someone he's that excited to be around. And he seems to engage in conversation, but with me he just kind of talks over me to imply i am dumb, and i get tired of that. Honestly, there is nothing endearing about it. It's insulting and tiring and i am so deeply worried about the world around me, that even my own heartbreak seems like nothing. I am genuinely very scared about the state of the world, and even an idea relationship would not save me from this. Like, yeah, i feel really used and hurt, but also we are losing animal species and the ocean is polluted and there is a pandemic, and overpopulation in certain areas of the world that are going to be swallowed by global warming. Sometimes this train of thought takes me into an entire three sixty because i wonder if it isn't just best to enjoy every person and experience for what it is because my life might not give me that much to look forward to in the future, and there is only so much i can do to fix the world or the people in it. Do i really want to put my foot down and tell him i don't want to see him anymore, when he's the only person i have, and i know too that he struggles with addiction?

Furthermore, my brother panicked and lost his mind and went on attack towards my sister who he was living with, and now he's moving back with my abusive parents. That's a whole story in and of itself. And that is that. I won't be seeing him anymore. He was so scared about economic and societal collapse. And then my workplace wrote me and said they don't have money to even give me my last paycheck, and i am lucky that my old dad is working overtime at the factory to send me money. Honestly, i was panicked before, but now i just feel resigned and afraid. It helps that there is no way i can get evicted right now, but at this point i just have a bad feeling that things are just going to keep getting worse.

I feel like poor people are being spread too thin, and it's going to eventually create a sense of rage. It's been happening for a long time. They just keep cutting programs, or making it harder to afford rent, or go to school. For instance, i have a friend who is an ambulance driver. He makes twelve dollars an hour, he's literally scraped up dead children off the side of the road, but he doesn't get free healthcare. If he ends up on the other end of his ambulance van he's fucked. It's stuff like this that is unbelievable. You'd think someone with his job of all people would be more than entitled to free healthcare, not that we all don't, but like, it might come with some benefits given he works in the industry and the level of seriousness his job entails. But there aren't any. And truly, he doesn't even make as much hourly as someone who works in a restaurant. It's nonsense. And it's accepted. And we need ambulance drivers.

Anyway, there is a lot that branches off. I don't know what direction i should go in, the mental health aspect of myself, or my family dynamics, the economy, the healthcare industry, my personal strifes, my conflicting relationship stuff, or what the future holds. All i can say is i feel terribly alone and terribly scared and it's hard to articulate it or feel grounded in myself at all. Sometimes it's like a numbness that tells you to keep pushing forward because it's the routine and it's supposed to lead to somewhere, right? I feel like in the last year, i am learning how to put my foot down and say no. I am learning to love people and know i am not loved back, and not even care anymore. I am also exhausted. When i am not around people, i fall asleep. A mysterious exhaustion i have never had before has taken over and i really just want to sleep for days and days straight, and some little part of me just wonders if it wouldn't be better if i didn't wake up again. I am not suicidal, but what's the point?

And I guess lastly, who am I to even complain? So many people have had it worse and now everyone is falling apart and struggling around me, so I am nothing special. It’s just hard to know what to do right now. There seems to be no distraction from the nothingness of it all.

[emmbr]

Tips for being friendly in Drive throughs!

I work at S*bucks and love working in the drive-through! I wanted to put information out there for people who do not know what it is like on the other end of the drive-through! 

1. While you are at the speaker box we can hear you whether we are talking with you or not. Please do not make us listen to your music, phone conversation, or anything like that while you wait before or after your order! Sometimes people sit there and blast music and we can’t hear each other or it is just really annoying. Turn off or turn down whatever you may be listening to in the car while you order. 

2. I say “We” because almost all of the employees inside can hear you when you are at the window! I know it is a little unnerving to know that several people can hear you stumble over your order, but it is what makes everything go a little smoother. If you are rude to the person taking your order, know that several other people are mocking you over the headset before you come to the window. Obvious unspoken rule: don’t be rude y’all.  

3. Be patient when you have to repeat your order! The drive-through position requires a TON of multitasking and sometimes your order will not be heard the first time you say it. We are doing our best and we want to get your order correct! Please don’t get frustrated with us, we want to do well and we don’t want to have to remake your drink! 

4. While drive is one of my favorite positions because I love interacting with strangers, this is not always true of my coworkers! It is a lot of multitasking and people skills in a timed and fast-paced environment so just be kind even if it takes a little while. Trust me, we can see the amount of time that you have been waiting. 

5. Please do not get a ton of gift cards at the window. The gift cards are not kept over there and it is hard to show you the whole selection. Of course, getting one through the drive-through is doable, but if you are putting a ton of work on the register at the window you are going to ruin our times. Just come inside. Of course, this does not apply if you use the drive-through for disability access reasons. 

6. There are sensors at the microphone, and while you cannot hear it they repeatedly beep at us if we have not helped someone there yet. Plus, the microphone is automatically on when a car is tripping the sensor so we hear the drone of outside sound. Do not greet us before we greet you unless you have been waiting there for over a minute. Especially when the store is not busy, the person working drive-through is probably talking to a customer at the window. 

7. Yes, there is a camera so that we can see you while you order! It breaks with bad weather so it doesn’t always work, but I know some people lately have been surprised and unnerved by learning about the camera. What do you expect; you are always on camera nowadays. Fun fact: if we wanted to we could show you our face while we take your order from a camera on the monitor, but I have never met someone who actually wants to do that. 

8. Time intensive tasks include: pour-overs, >3 hot food items (depending on which ones and if you get duplicates), >1 frappuccino. Of course, a significant delay when you get these items will depend on how well staffed and how busy we are. I honestly think that S*bucks should ban pour-overs from being ordered through the drive-through. Just come inside (except for access reasons). 

9. Get a Starbucks membership on the app! When you run out we can always reload at the register for >$5, so you don’t have to keep a bunch of money on your card. You get rewards if you pay through the app, and a free drink on your birthday! It allows you to tip (unlike using your card). AND surveys about our performance are only sent out to members, so please influence those! 

10. If you want to be nice, tip well instead of “paying it forward!” I feel a little weird saying “give us money instead of other customers,” but I know for a fact that my coworkers need money more than our average customer coming to Starbucks. Pay it forward is a little annoying to ring up (but totally doable), but so many people do that instead of tipping- which reminds me that our customers are empathizing more with other customers they haven’t met than the worker that they are looking in the face who is more likely to be struggling financially. I know it ruins the “random” and “stranger” charm of pay it forward, but, honestly, if I were ever at the end of one of those pay it forward lines I would just end it and put what I would have paid in the tip jar. 

11. Standard in interacting with customer service: don’t order/ pick up your order while on the phone. I don’t care if you have one earbud in as long as you can hear me. I do care if I have to decipher whether you are talking to me or not. I do care that I am doing a service for you and trying to make a welcoming environment and you won’t treat me like someone you are interacting with. If you don’t want to talk with someone, just mobile order and come inside. 

12. We love to make sure that your drink is made correctly! It is usually no big deal to remake drinks, especially if we are not busy. Make sure you are paying attention to the screen where your order is when you are at the mic, and pay attention to what the barista reads back to you about your order (so the order is correct in the first place and you don’t have to wait!). Check your order before you drive away- it is super easy to give someone the wrong drink. If you are really picky go ahead and taste your drink before you drive away! However, don’t take advantage of us. No matter if it is our money or Sbucks’, no one enjoys being scammed. 

13. Maybe I just don’t understand this because I am not very picky, but I will never understand how much some people care about their lattes not having foam on them. It does not give you much more milk? And just makes the latte-making process longer (and harder for beginners)? You do you and ask for “no foam”, but don’t complain if it is made with a little bit of foam. Some foam even forms after scooping foam off after pouring. It really isn’t that much less milk.  

14. I should have put this at the top of the list: do not make a big stink about us running out of something. Sometimes our nitro tap breaks. We only have a certain number of sandwiches thawed each day. Sometimes someone makes a mistake with an order or sometimes there are district-wide shortages. I don’t want to listen to you be loudly disappointed at me when we don’t have the exact thing that you want. This is beyond our control, and you are probably an adult so be an adult about it. We will try to get you a comparable product and there is not much more we can do about that. 

15. This is just a personal small peeve: don’t start an order with “I need...” There is nothing in our store that you need. This is about having perspective and recognizing our role in your lives. 

Even though this post was pretty much complaining about customers, I do want to make sure that the reader knows that I genuinely do enjoy connecting with customers. I do assume the best, and unless you are actively rude it is not a big deal if you have done these things before! I get energy from every single positive interaction I have in the store. I love getting to know customers so well that I know their face, name, and order (which takes a decent amount of time and care for me to remember!). I genuinely am interested when I ask where you work if I have a moment with you, or when I ask how your day is, or when we talk about the sunrise or the weather. These interactions keep me satisfied with my job! I am moving soon and I am genuinely sad to not see many of my regulars again and genuinely excited to meet many more customers. 

[sixmorningsafter]

Did She Really Love Me?

Okay, so. Without getting into too much detail, here’s how the past couple of months (in regards to SMA of course) have been: I started the review for the most recent chapter as soon as it came out, but it was too emotional (and boy, I was too emotional) to even try. I tried again maybe a month or so later, but writer’s block and Emotions were not about it. Then, I thought, let’s be creative with SMA crack, and I started doing wedding drabbles + moodboards because ya know, I’m planning a wedding (remind me to show you The Dress). I finished the steroline one, but then my laptop crashed. Violently. So, that was fun. Idk if I can recover anything off my laptop, but it seems like I may not be able to. That’s another story and drama entirely.

Now, I have a new laptop, so that’s good. But then, I heard Did You Really Love Me by Jeff Carl:

Did ya really love me? Did ya even know how much I cared? Did ya really know me? Oh, I’m feelin’ so unprepared. It’s getting harder to breathe. We had such good, why did you leave? What did you think that you need that you couldn’t find it in me?

So, I wrote this Stefonnie, post-Stelena drabble/one-shot whatever. Enjoy the angst.

“Wow. Okay. Um…”

Stefan isn’t even concerned by Bonnie’s sudden presence in his apartment. If he’s honest, he’s been seeing and hearing things for the past three weeks, barely functioning on a minimal amount of sleep. He knows she’s referring to the whirlwind of his apartment, things he’s tossed and toppled, but he is unbothered.

Everything he sees reminds him of her, and behind his eyelids, everything he doesn’t see does the same.

“Stef…” Bonnie’s voice is low, like she’s talking to a patient groggy on medication. “Stefan, it’s Bonnie.”

A muted rage makes him want to snap. I’m heartbroken, not a moron! But, when the gravity of his situation weighs on him, he bites his tongue. Oh, but he was a moron. He is a moron. His eyes are dry, but his chest caves around his sad heart.

“You haven’t been answering my calls.”

She looks like she’s navigating a booby-trap. She sits next to his contorted body on the sofa. The way his arms wrap around him, you’d think he was a mummy. Petrified by shock and loss.

“I hope you don’t mind, I used the spare. Stefan…”

She pushes hair away from his forehead, and he knows it’s dramatic when he flinches, but he can’t help it. Physical contact hurts. Everything hurts. He catches a glimpse of her frown, but he knows under the worry is anger.

“Okay, first things first.” She pops up. “We’re going to get you some food. Then, we’ll…” She surveys the room—then frowns. “Is this an e-cigarette?”

He doesn’t smoke, so he understands the confusion. He doesn’t even have the courage to even look in her direction. Look, Rebekah had to learn drama from someone in their family.

She ignores it and orders Chinese food. Their favorite—now his favorite—is right across the street. His stomach whines, but he won’t be able to keep it down.

“Don’t order from there,” he rasps as she’s almost done. She startles at his wrecked voice. “Order from the one by you.”

Understanding, she nods. She cancels the order and speed-dials her Chinese restaurant. She orders the same food. As she listens to the employee read the order back, she studies the room. He knows she wants to clean it—that’s how she usually gets out of her own funks—but she would need his help. Help he is unwilling to give.

“Thanks.” She hangs up and looks at him. They make eye contact, and he knows her heart goes out to him. She inhales deeply before clapping her hands together. “Okay, buddy, let’s get you into the shower. When you’re all clean, the food will be here by then, hopefully, and then we’ll eat, and we’ll see about cleaning this—”

Her perky singsong tone strikes something, and he heaves a sob he didn’t know was still in him.

“Oh, hon—”

“What did I miss?” he croaks. Bonnie’s optimism crumples into pity. He knows all her faces. He knew all of her faces. “What did she need that I didn’t give her? That I couldn’t give her? I gave her everything.”

His fingers curl into his palms. He did give her everything—every part of him, anything she asked. What did he do to drive her into the arms of another man? He could scoff—how could he even call this other guy a ‘man’? What man steals another’s love?

His lungs burn.

How could he have been so blindsided? God, he thought they were on the same page. Love at first sight, a true love, damning how young or how little they knew about one another—it was an epic, long-lasting love that learns every secret, every tic, everything as the long, beautiful years go on.

Love? Beauty? He does scoff. Fallacies he’s bought into, he’s fed on all these years.  

When Bonnie seizes him in a strong embrace, he realizes she’s the only one who can keep him grounded right now. Not even his sisters could comfort him (not that anyone other than Freya even tried).

Muffled against her chest, he manages, “We were perfect.”

“No couple is perfect.” Her reminder is gentle. It stings less coming from her. “No one is perfect, not even you.” It’s a hook for a joke, but she recognizes he’s not biting. “People are selfish, and people mess up… monumentally.”

“Did she really love me?”

Bonnie squeezes his shoulders, and they sit. They sit and sit, listening to the sounds of life right outside his window, of the city and of the birds and the wind. Listening to sounds of life right in the room, of the thundering silence surrounding their own breathing and heartbeats.

Someone knocks on his door. It’s the delivery guy. Bonnie presses an uncharacteristic kiss to his temple and leaves. Symbolic, really. The apartment smells of salt and savor. She returns and gently untangles his arms.

“You’re going to shower—no sad music video renditions—” she tries to garner a laugh, but he barely lifts the corners of his mouth. “Then, we feast.”

He knows she means well, as she shuffles him into the bathroom. She jokes that he’s on his own from here, and even that sends a jolt through his severed heart. He knows she means well, as she blasts 90’s hip hop and rap on his stereo, no doubt trying to bring order back to his living room.

But under the running water, in the overwhelming scent of a generic shampoo and not the warm vanilla he was used to, he is still crushed by his unanswered question.

Did she really love me?

–

this year’s been rough in many ways, one of which is the first full piece I’ve written since April maybe? feels good to write again. hope your holidays were fun and restful <3

A/N below the cut:

OKAY, so to begin with: I have a theory that sometimes, even though it defies all that ‘practice makes perfect’ shit we’ve been hearing our whole lives, taking a lengthy break from writing can actually make you better. Dunno if it has to do with a chance to break from your routine and then come back with a fresh voice, or if you just come back on less of an autopilot than you were in before, but one way or another, it happens sometimes, and THIS IS TOTALLY THAT. I know you feel rusty but GIIIIRRRLLL, this was LOVELY.

Everything he sees reminds him of her, and behind his eyelids, everything he doesn’t see does the same.

AHHHHH.

His chest caves around his sad heart.

AHHHHH.

 Look, Rebekah had to learn drama from someone in their family.

I cackled.

Not even his sisters could comfort him (not that anyone other than Freya even tried).

Lexi was the not-gonna-say-I-called-it-but-I-highkey-called-it sister and Rebekah was the ‘omg I know let’s use this opportunity for a much-needed makeover’ sister. 

She jokes that he’s on his own from here, and even that sends a jolt through his severed heart.

AHHHHHH.

Okay, before I just quote the shit out of this whole thing, I’ll reign it in: you captured Stefan and Bonnie’s relationship so friggin’ perfectly. Bonnie would absolutely be a blend of empathy, humor, and tough BFF love, and Stefan would absolutely be that balance of wallowing drama and genuine heartbreak. You did such a marvelous job toeing that line - it’s so easy to just take the humor route and trivialize his theatrics when it comes to this breakup (I do it all the time, lololol), but between the humorous bits of melodrama, you genuinely made my heart break for him. I could feel his devastation. Devastated Disney prince. Also, you did such a fantastic job capturing the tension in the room and the quiet, desolate atmosphere. It felt like the aftermath of a natural disaster, like some bomb had detonated a few weeks ago and Stefan was just still sitting in the wreckage of it all, resigned, ash and burnt-edged debris settled all around him. The beats of silence and processing during their conversation gave it such a realistic pace, and I loved all of Stefan’s thoughts throughout it. Especially loved this one: 

Stef…” Bonnie’s voice is low, like she’s talking to a patient groggy on medication. “Stefan, it’s Bonnie.”

A muted rage makes him want to snap. I’m heartbroken, not a moron! But, when the gravity of his situation weighs on him, he bites his tongue. Oh, but he was a moron. He is a moron. His eyes are dry, but his chest caves around his sad heart.

Just felt so genuinely human. Also loved the detail about the Chinese place and how he had her order the exact same food from a different one. Very real. 

Anyway, I miss the crap out of you and your writing (PLEASE GET BACK TO WRITING, AND IF YOU WANT TO USE SMA AS AN EASY WAY TO EDGE BACK INTO IT, I CAN’T THINK OF A BETTER REASON FOR SMA TO EXIST). Also, your wedding dress is a legit DREAM. I don’t even really get too into weddings and stuff but gah, I’m so excited for yours. It’s definitely been a tough year for me too, but I’m beyond thrilled for the good things coming ahead for you and I want all the updates re: you and Ryan. 

LOVE YA GIRL.

[mydarlingklaus]

Damaged Love: Chapter 16: You’re Not Alone Anymore

Finally updated!! 

School has been a mess and prepping for my trip to meet Joseph Morgan this weekend has taken up a lot of my time lately but I wanted to update this story before I left. My loyal and patient readers deserve it and I’ve missed writing these psycho lovebirds <3

The link to the full story will be at the bottom and here (:

P.S. for some reason on mobile, the lines of separation aren’t showing so sorry if everything looks congested. It’s not like that on desktop.

Gotham City, Arkham Asylum 2016; third to last session:

“I haven’t really spoken to my parents lately, well, my mom congratulated me on this job  but I could sense her judgment through the phone.” Caroline rolled her eyes, playing with her fingers as she lied on the couch while Klaus sat in her chair. His sessions had an odd way of turning into her sessions, but Caroline didn’t mind. As unprofessional as it was, Klaus was, shockingly enough, nice to talk to and genuinely seemed interested in  knowing about her. And she certainly had a lot on her mind. Caroline wasn’t worried about the trouble she could get in if someone walked in on them, she was too entranced in everything Klaus. “She honestly never supported me in my life until I told her I wanted to be a doctor. As if I wasn’t worthy unless I was making the big bucks!” Caroline growled. Klaus smirked while scribbling in her notepad. “Sounds tragic.” Caroline scoffed. “Well, a tragic woman is what she is.” His grin expanded. She completely underestimated how much she amused him. Caroline lowered her chin and caught his grin. She couldn’t help but share the expression as she looked over at him focusing on whatever he was doing in her notepad. - This is wrong. So, so, so wrong!! But felt so right. - No Caroline he’s your patient! Who she was completely falling for. - Fuck. She licked her dry lips as she sat up on her elbows. “You’re supposed to be the one venting to me, you know that right?” “I much rather hear your thoughts, Doctor Quinzel.” Klaus grinned again. She tilted her head. Trying, yet failing, to hide her smile. “You’re always listening to troubled people’s problems every single hour of the day. Is it such a crime that someone finally wants to listen to yours?” He wondered. - Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. “Klaus...” She sighed, swooping her blonde curls to one side to shield her blushing cheeks and swinging her legs off the couch. “This isn’t right. I’m supposed to be counseling you, not the other way around. I can get into a lot of trouble.” “Who’s going to tell?” He shrugged. Caroline nibbled on her bottom lip; he had a point. “Are you sure this isn’t just your way of avoiding talking about yourself with me?” She questioned with a curious brow. Klaus shrugged again. “I’m much more boring than you people give me credit for.” She scoffed. “Please, you’re the most notorious serial killer in the city. That’s not exactly what we’d call boring.” 

“Thanks for the compliment, love.” He teased. Caroline softly laughed as she stood to her feet, pulling her skirt into place and fixing her blouse. Red rushed to her cheeks when she sensed Klaus’s hot gaze following her every move.

Distracting herself from the aching between her thighs, Caroline spoke. “What are you drawing in there?”

“Patience is a virtue, love.” He smirked before quickly putting the notepad on the side. Caroline heavily sighed, resting her hands on her knees. Klaus was making it more difficult to maintain a professional relationship with the pet names and flirting. But she secretly loved it, and he knew it too. She nibbled on her bottom lip, fixing her glasses. “You really need to stop calling me that, it’s not pro-“ “Professional.” He finished for her. “Yes you’ve mentioned that.” Scratching his nose and a soft laugh under his breath.”But I think we’re past that don’t you, love?”

His teasing devilish grin was not helping her current state of horniness and longing for him.

Klaus stood up as well. Caroline almost forgot how tall he was as he towered over her. Their blues eyes staring intensely into each other’s as their slow breaths brushed their faces. She shivered when Klaus’s cold fingertips danced on the front of her hand.  He was never affectionate towards her, even though she allowed him to not wear his straitjacket during his sessions. Touching her wasn’t a habit. It was odd but, okay. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” Klaus softly asked. His gaze so soft, you’d never think he was a convicted serial killer. She hesitated. How was she supposed to answer? He was her patient. Klaus was her patient. Professionalism was key and yet they were breaking every rule in the book. - No, no. No, they cannot be friends. Even if they could, she could never only be that to him. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she dropped eye contact, finding it difficult to think straight when looking at him. “You’re my patient, Klaus.” She spoke under her breath, not thinking he heard her. Klaus didn’t respond with words but he grinned as she circled around him shaking her head. “Friends talk to each other. You don’t like talking to me.” Caroline pointed out when she faced him. “Its nothing personal. I don’t like talking to anyone.” He clarified. “But I’m supposed to help you. That’s my job.” She frustratingly crossed her arms. “You have to talk to me for this to work.” He shrugged. “I quite enjoy how we’re already going about this.” She narrowed her eyes, clearly not in the mood but neither was he. “Well it cant continue. You’re going to have to talk to me eventually about actual problems. It’s only a matter of time.” Caroline claimed with a hand on her hip. Klaus clenched his jaw, suddenly more irritated than amused. - What part of ‘I don’t like talking to anyone’ was she not comprehending? Maybe manipulating her was harder than he thought but, at the same time he was in no rush per se. He enjoyed her company too much. Caroline’s shoulders slumped when he walked back to the couch to lay down. He stared up towards the ceiling, resting his hands over his stomach and eyes closed. “I wouldn’t hold your breath on that one, love.”

You can read the rest when clicking on the link. Reviews are appreciated (:

[dxmedstudent]

Do you ever feel angry at people when they choose to leave medicine? I understand they have good reasons but the country needs more doctors and nurses than we have. Its scary. The same goes for teachers (I know some that quit to do YouTube full time... Not the best decision)

No, not really. I have a lot of feelings about this topic, so this will be a long post, but I want to point out that it’s not directed at you personally. It’s an interesting question to ask, and I can completely understand why you asked it, and that’s why I think it deserves a detailed answer. I can understand what you mean, even though I view things differently. At first I was going to say that thinking like that is an outsider’s way of looking at the situation. But I don’t think that’s entirely fair to you, because some insiders also feel that way too. I can see why; if you’re struggling to get by as it is, and people bail out, it’s easy to see it as being abandoned. And some docs (particularly some of the older generation) think like that. That the newer generation are too quick to give up. That we’re not prepared to work hard. That we’re letting the side down, or not living up to some archaic ideal of what a doctor should be. But I don’t believe that wanting to be happy is ‘giving up’ or being weak. And I don’t believe that people who leave are wrong to do so. Because I don’t believe that any of us have to put our work permanently before our own happiness or wellbeing. There’s a lot we can say about how the concept of a calling has changed, but the truth is that medicine isn’t the same as it was 30 years ago. Neither are doctors. Neither is the world we live in. Neither are the patients we treat. So I personally feel that focusing on what medicine once was, rather than what it can be now, is doomed to failure. The days of the village benevolent partriarchal white male doctor working 4968 hours a week whilst his dutiful wife raises his kids but doesn’t actually see him, and whilst his grateful patients don’t complain about his mistakes and shortcomings… just don’t exist, if they ever really did. So I’m not a fan of the idea that docs should put duty above their lives, because it will never be over. Disease never ends. People will always die. And so there’s no ‘putting up with it’ for a finite time for the sake of the greater good. If you expect someone to put up with a job that makes them miserable (or worse) you’re effectively handing them a life sentence. Which is unfair, given that we don’t really expect that of other jobs. And that seems a poor way to thank people who’ve still put a lot of time and effort into helping people. If we value the contribution someone does, then we should value their happiness, too. Don’t get me wrong, i’m not thrilled at all with the fact that everyone is jumping ship, because I’m going to struggle a lot more to do my job if there’s nobody else left in the NHS. None of us can do this alone, after all! But I don’t think the fault is individual; if many people are leaving, that’s a sign of systemic problems, not individual ones. Because if it was a good place to work, and the job was manageable and in line with the pay, and if the conditions were reasonable, then surely almost everyone would stay? So more people leaving means something is worsening, things are not as they were, or could be. Our friends who are leaving are the canaries in the mine; if we don’t work out how to make things better, it’ll be worse for all of us. Perhaps it’s also because I’ve seen it from the other side. Sometimes, during a difficult shift, the thought that you can choose to leave medicine is a welcoming one. This shift won’t last forever. This rotation won’t last forever. Being in medicine, if you choose, won’t last forever. It can literally be the thing that keeps you sane when it all gets to be too much. A shred of control in a field where we often get very little. I suspect that anyone who has ever sat down and counselled a friend or colleague who is spiralling downwards into depression, usually worsened if not outright caused by our job, and who feels that they can’t take any more, I suspect they wouldn’t be able to countenance anger or judgement towards people who leave. I’m trying my hardest to keep my suicidal pals from not forming a permanent exit strategy from medicine that includes death. This is not a rare or isolated occurrence. And unfortunately, there are people, I hear of several every year, who take this path. That’s just not good enough, and each of us needs to look out for each other to make sure that nobody is left behind. So if leaving medicine means that my friends get to take some time out, stabilise their life, find something they are actually happy with, and get the chance to have a fulfilling life which they might not survive to have if they remained in medicine? Then I’m all for them leaving. Of course, I think it’s important to first focus on taking sick leave and getting treatment for depression or anxiety or whatever is causing people to feel suicidal; because some people find that if they take time out, and change speciality, then after they recover they actually still want to be in medicine. But if after time and space they decide medicine is not for them? I fully support their search for happiness elsewhere.  Staying in medicine is not worth anyone’s happiness, health or life. It just isn’t. When people leave, they are leaving behind hopes and dreams. A path that they’ve literally prepared for since they were 16 or so. They’ve spent their entire life working towards this, and now they are walking away; it’s an incredibly scary, conflicting and often heartbreaking decision to make.  To the system, it’s just one more doctor or nurse lost. To a politician, it’s absolutely just a number. As long as ‘Docs in’ : ‘Docs out’ isn’t too messed up and the finances check out, I doubt most people genuinely care for the wellbeing of the people doing the job. The system certainly isn’t set up to look after us, whatever country you choose to look at. Though there are some things in place to keep an eye on us, or help us in some ways, it ultimately falls to us to look after ourselves. But to us? It’s our entire life. It affects how we see ourselves. Where we live. How we live our lives. Our social and romantic lives. The lives of our children. This decision is far too personal, and far too important for us all to farm it out and let society decide if we’re allowed to change jobs, or if we’re allowed to be happy. If there’s anything medicine has taught me, through seeing the intimate workings of many patients’ lives, it’s that unhappiness echoes far further than you might think. And that it’s much harder to do anything, or even get by, if we are deeply unhappy. And that trying to be happy is a perfectly legitimate aim in itself.  You probably don’t want a doctor who is burned out, hates their life, and is tired of medicine but feels forced to stay long after they stopped wanting to see patients. What kind of care would their patients receive? I doubt it would compare to having a doctor who is relatively well-rested, likes their job and generally feels life is worth living. So I don’t ever believe that people should be forced to stay in medicine. Because given our frequently having to move away from support networks, our long hours and relative social isolation, our high level of responsibility and stress, our high divorce rates, our high rates of burnout, mental illness and suicide, I think that would be an incredibly bad idea. And not only would it risk the health and potentially lives of those who are on the edge, but it would entirely demoralise people like me who are holding their own but want to work in a system that isn’t entirely morally bankrupt, and which values our wellbeing not just our ability to keep the system running. I think such a system would make us feel even less valued, and decrease our goodwill, and in the longterm force more of us out of medicine. We work so hard because we feel that what we are doing is worthwhile and valued; take that away and you have a lot less motivation for us to stick around. I agree that we’re facing serious problems with the numbers of  nurses or doctors. But that is something that ultimately needs to be addressed on a much larger scale. That means taking a good long look at why there aren’t enough. Is it because we’re not training enough of them? Are we losing more than we used to? What can we do to get more people to stay and enjoy what they do? And I believe that the answer should never be to try to force people to stay, but to make conditions better so that people want to stay. That would mean things like better support, better staffing, better training, and unfortunately if you asked us all what would improve our working conditions, many of the things we would suggest might increase costs. With the NHS already being funded at less than recommended levels, it’s unlikely we’ll see more funding being made available. Ultimately, if  you want more doctors you have to either train more, or work on keeping the ones you are losing. Unfortunately, the former is expensive and difficult (med schools can only expand so much, and we only have so much training space in hospitals for placements; we can’t expect drastically more doctors to be trained quickly), and we can only poach so many people from other countries. It’s not even ethically sound for us to do so; other countries need their trained staff to maintain their own healthcare systems, and poaching theirs whilst burning our own staff out is a really bad longterm plan. And the latter? well, I’ve yet to see politicians or the media suggest ANY way of getting us to stay that isn’t along the lines of “force them to not leave, even if they are utterly miserable”. The idea of addressing our concerns, giving us better training, or better working conditions, or making us feel valued? It’s like an entirely alien concept. In fact, apart from the odd article pointing out how depressed and burned out doctors are, and how under pressure we are, I’ve really never seen it suggested that improving working conditions would improve retention of highly trained and motivated staff who used to love what they do. It’s truly, truly bizarre. And the total lack of exploration of this as a viable option? I’ll let you draw your own conclusions about why politicians or the media never really focus on this as an option. Even things that might not cost more (like stop faffing around with our contracts and arguably trying to make us work mroe unsociable hours for less money) might help morale; the whole contract debacle a couple of years ago really had a huge effect on our collective goodwill, because for many it felt like our own concerns aabout our working conditions were completely ignored, even when some of those concerns involved patient care. A lot of people voiced how done they were with the system after that. Ultimately, though, I think listening would be a start. Since the contract issues, our peers have shown that they are political, passionate and able and willing to talk about what they feel could be done to make the healthcare system better for its patients and for its staff. We have collectively given many interviews, written many books and articles, blogged and tweeted and proved that we’re willing to share what it’s like from the inside, and what we feel might help.  As for teachers, I understand they also have a really bad attrition rate; so, so many teachers are leaving teaching. Because of stress, pressure, increased paperwork and all sorts of other reasons. I know more than one ex-teacher and some current teachers, and it’s far from easy doing what they do. I’d suggest, likewise, that the government (and schools as employers) need to take a long hard look at what they are doing, and whether they are actively contributing to burnout and driving people out of a job they used to be passionate about. I wouldn’t personally dare to say whether leaving teaching for Youtube is a good or a bad idea; surely whether one makes it on youtube depends a lot on their skills and social media capital. Some people seem to make a decent living on social media whilst others struggle; a lot seems to depend on exactly what it is you offer your subscribers and whether anyone else is doing anything similar. It’s certainly a risky move, but then it seems to work for some people. Whatever their reasons, I hope they did the best they could, and I hope it works out for them.

[thenightisland]

explanations/updates under the cut

i haven’t been able to maintain much in the way of interaction with most of the people i care about, also haven’t been able to do much more than get out of bed every day because it’s one thing to be depressed and another to have just had such a goddamn terrible few months that there’s no way your antidepressants can keep up with all the awful

i already had several weeks without my second in command because she’s cursed and had to have another surgery. our unit lost two of our main techs (for new people inexplicably reading this, i charge a locked acute psychiatric ward, and losing techs is a /massive/ loss). the admin demons have been instituting various new things that have been having terrible effects on the units which i won’t get into because that would be a really really long explanation with a lot of jargon in it. one of the things though is the fact that the “do not readmit” list has been low key thrown out the window, so all the pts who were on that list /with good fucking reason/ are of course, now coming back, and spoiler alert they’re just as terrible still.

this one bookstore closed which sounds stupid as fuck but that place was the closest thing i had to a church and it literally kept me alive when i was in high school like i say that completely without exaggeration so it closing was the equivalent of someone hacking off one of my limbs because it was still the main place i went to when i was upset and wanted to feel less miserable and i don’t have it anymore and you wouldn’t believe how hard it is like imagine if your church got demolished or whatever you believe in like it destroyed me and i feel unmoored i don’t have that safe space feeling now because it’s gone

meanwhile the person i spent seven years of my life in love with had a baby with the boyfriend she described as Guy Karen, named me godmother of their firstborn son, and unknowingly made his middle name the pen name i’ve used for a decade because fucking of course this might as well fucking happen too. but i have other romantic bullshit going on now that’s honestly fucking me up worse.

also somehow i still can’t escape a little life like it has haunted me every waking moment since march 2016 and i hate how much i am like the protagonist and it’s kind of fucking with me??????

a fucking garbage man bashed off the side mirror on my car which i still haven’t had the fucking time to get fixed that was great

spent my whole vacation anxious having panic attacks like what is the point in having a long vacation if you’re going to be constantly stressed over nothing like goddammit can’t i just have this

within the last month and a half five people i know have died. three of them were our patients which like doesn’t sound like a thing that would cause that much distress, but due to the nature of our unit, we’re the only family a lot of our career patients have most of our pts are homeless, schizophrenic, intellectually disabled, just plain unwanted people of varying illnesses, like we literally look after the people no one else wants so when we hear one of Our Patients has died it fucks us up so badly. and it’s even worse because it’s not like they died in their sleep or something all of them have been post-discharge suicides like our work already feels like a revolving door exercise in futility because that’s the nature of the field unfortunately but it still hurts like i spend forty hours or more a week with these people i literally see them than i see my friends and family our patients are mostly so close to us that like when the day shift charge nurse came back from maternity leave, pt who had been there when she was pregnant who were there again were asking about how the baby was doing so three of our pts killing themselves in the last month in a half is soul crushing

then the closest thing i had to a friend in nursing school, well, she died too. out of the fucking blue, out of nowhere. she was a 28 year old healthy woman with two young daughters. she worked so hard for her and her girls she went to nursing school to build a better life for them and she genuinely wanted to be a nurse meanwhile i originally got into it for the money like she only got to live her dream working in L&D for two and a half years. and then she was on vacation in florida with her girls who were doing like a cheerleading camp. and she just. went to sleep and never woke up. and i still don’t know what killed her no one has posted it on facebook, and unfortunately, all the people who might know are the people that i cut out of my life because the rest of our class was a toxic mess so i can’t very well be like heyyyyy so i know i deleted you years ago and all but what killed linda? so still no closure. i just hope to god her girls didn’t find their mother dead. like it wrecked me.

i also say that every time i come back from a vacation something awful happens like when i came back from boston/nyc i discovered i was the only nurse left on my shift and when i came back from st louis last fall my dog died a very traumatizing [for me] death, so when i came back from dc i was like hmm what next.

well, another fucking person died is what next. /one of my coworkers/ my alpha tech from my original 11-7 team one of the people who has literally saved my life and kept so many people from getting hurt this is someone i saw five days a week for the last two and a half years of my life. he was already going through a lot because him and his wife split, so he was staying at a friend’s house, a friend who happened to be an NP for one of the psych docs, and the NP’s sister who works as an internal medicine assistant. and then on cinco de mayo we got word that his car had flipped and killed him. and a lot of people attributed it to a classic cinco drunk driving fatality but it gets worse because of course it does because lol it wasn’t /his/ car that flipped. it was the NP’s sports car. and apparently, the NP was driving, and the sister was following. the sister and NP were off the grid for a couple days and then the sister came back to work, but the NP has been taken off the on call list “indefinitely” so not only is one of our team members dead, but he is probably dead from a /drunk driving vehicular homicide done by another team member/ because apparently the world was like fuck our unit specifically.

then i got to spend several days being targeted by a pt who was a behavioral case [aka they’re not actually mentally ill, they’ve learned to play the system to avoid going to jail, basically] and that involved her being in seclusion for seven goddamn hours and her literally endlessly threatening to kill me for days to the point that i was confined to our walled in nurses station because she was you know trying to kill me and just constantly standing on the other side of the glass throwing around some of the worst verbal abuse i’ve ever experienced like i’m already exhausted and fatigued and miserable can’t you shut the fuck up i need to find some kind of meaning in my job because it’s all i have and you’re making it very hard for me to feel like i’ve done any good for anyone

all of this built up nicely into a good old fashioned nervous breakdown to the point that i had to call in sick because lol turns out that that is a lot of fucking shit to deal with in the span of a month and a half and emotionally things are only going to get harder from here this year for a variety of personal reasons that suffice to say have literally kept me up at night and upset me enough that i even had some nightmares break through the medication because i’m seeing so many of my friends find their happiness and i hate that i can’t feel that happy for them because i’m so tired and when the fuck will it be my turn i don’t want to resent my friends’ happiness and successes i’m just fucking exhausted and would really like for some good goddamn things to start happening here any time now i’ve been under so much stress i’m just a human version of the song running on empty at this point it’s all too much and i still can’t write i’m still stuck in the same hell from a manuscript i wrote nearly four years ago all i’ve been able to write is Coping Poetry to keep from going off the deep end and honestly everything in my life just feels completely out of control and i’m just tired of so many bad things happening in such a short amount of time like i can handle my own emotional problems until you dump all this other fucking nightmare fuel on top of them then it’s too much

so for the unfinished ao3 wip i’m sorry for the sheet music requests i’m sorry for the unanswered messages i’m sorry i’m safe i’m not in any danger of hurting myself or anything but i’m overwhelmed and i barely have the energy to get through all the shit that’s been happening lately so i can’t even promise when my interactions with anyone will be back to normal especially given my already awful skill at withdrawing from the people who care about me because i don’t want to bring them down any so just. tolerate the queue’s work. if you see me posting more but not answering you it’s not you it’s me i just cannot manage even talking to more than like three people max right now hence the until further notice psa you’ve seen at the top of my blog

the worst part is that there’s actually /more/ but it’s also three in the morning and i have to work tomorrow so here’s the highlights turns out averaging one death a week takes a toll on a person who’s already isolated and exhausted

hopefully at some point, things won’t suck as much and i can go back to being regular me. till then, apologies, and enjoy the queue

[hdcurrentenjoyalways-blog]

Happiness Is Everything In Life

When most of us think about what makes us happy, we tend to focus on the “things” in life that we crave or long to own. These things may be concrete consumables or they may be intangible resources, such as “time,” “inner peace,” or “true love.”

It is easier for us to create a list of what we want the world to give us than it is to think in terms of what we can give back to the world.

We live in a world of instant feedback and conspicuous consumption. It may be experienced firsthand through the “Buy Now” button on Amazon’s website or through the obsession with following celebrities’ tweets or video reviews of products, films, and life, in general.

It is amazing how many “things” everyone seems to have in their lives – and how many more things we might desire that we believe will make us feel even better about ourselves in relation to how we think others feel about us.

It is perhaps the paradoxical desire to divest to have more that has created the hot new trend for “tiny houses” or the online tales of people who are living “off the grid,” (ironic, isn’t it, that we hear about these folks’ experiences online?), or the movement to make do in life with 100 possessions or less. Actually, now that our cellphones can do just about anything that we need them to do – from finding our potential mate to preparing dinner via online ordering from nearby take-out places – making do with less isn’t as austere as it once might have been.

“Down-sizing,” “right-sizing,” or “de-cluttering all reflect the same realization that is gaining momentum – possessions simply won’t bring lasting happiness to our lives.

Happiness is a state of being, not a pile of stuff.

So, I’m going to share with you the Big Four Happiness Factors.

Disclaimer: I’m a counselor, a counselor educator, and more significantly, an unashamed optimist. So I’m going to assume that I am planting the seeds of unimaginable levels of personal growth and development through these next few slides.

The Big Four practices that can change your life for good are friendliness, cheerfulness, compassion, and gratitude.

Let’s break these down.

Friendliness First

Some people can be described as “the type of person who’s never met a stronger.” These are people who meet the world with a pleasant temperament and an openness to new people and new experiences – regardless of who may be placed in their path on any given day.

Friendliness is about offering warmth and good humor to those around you.

It is about being willing to make the first move socially while recognizing that others may be a little slow to warm up and that the rewards for friendliness are not always immediately enjoyed. I once worked with a vibrant and delightful woman in her 70s who avowed that “every day is a new opportunity to add to your collection of friends!” She couldn’t count the number of friends she had and she couldn’t find words to describe the pleasure they brought her in life.

Human beings are social creatures and being kind is a lot more likely to help you build your “tribe” than showing indifference to or disinterest in the people that you might someday need for support or assistance.

Make Cheerfulness Your Default Demeanor

There are plenty of old songs that encourage us to “put on a happy face” or “smile when your heart is breaking,” or “don’t worry, be happy.” Many of us may feel a little confused about why we are always encouraging people to “lie” to themselves.

Actually, there is a Zen koan or saying that states simply, “Practice smiling while peeling carrots.” My yoga instructor always encourages us to smile during the most difficult poses. She asks the question, “Are you smiling because you are happy or are you happy because you are smiling?”

She was on to something important.

Being able to offer a sunny disposition to the world, regardless of your inner state, actually encourages you to physically feel better!

So when someone else is turning to you to help them deal with their problems, smiling at them will help you let go of your frustration and exhaustion and be present for them in an awesome way.

Smiles are contagious, too, and if we are able to find the energy to offer our own smile to others, even when our inner world is falling apart, we are going to feel better when our smile is returned.

Seeing someone offer you a genuine smile has actually been found to be emotionally and mental healing.

When You’re Feeling Lonely, Do This . . .

Did you know that simply imagining that you are being smiled at by someone you love is just as powerfully healing as having that person present?

Close your eyes for a moment. Now, imagine being with someone you love and who cares about you and who isn’t here with you today. Now, imagine this person offering you a warm smile. Once you’ve locked that image in place, take a deep breath and slowly open your eyes. Did you find you were smiling just thinking about that special person’s smile? Did you feel warmth around their heart, like a hug, as you imagined that person?

Yep, it works almost every time!

NOW, if you need one more reason to be cheerful movies, how about this.

Research has shown that when patients grimace during medical treatments or procedures, they actually feel MORE PAIN than those who do not.

Gritting your teeth and bearing it is not the best option. Letting yourself smile in the midst of struggle is what brings a change in perception.

Be empathetic to those who might seek assistance from you and offer them extra support by way of an encouraging smile. When you use your warm presence to help them get through difficult times, the pay-off can be huge!

Be Compassionate

Offering compassion to others is another charitable act that positively influences the giver. When we accept others’ shortcomings or cut others slack for their own wrongs or missteps, we are actually valuing humanity over someone else’s personal flaws.

Most of us are truly doing the best we can at any given moment. Sure, some days our “best” is far from “enough,” and there are days when we know that we are guilty of giving less where we probably should have tried harder to give more.

No one is at 100 percent of their game every day. However, if you accept the shortfall of another, the windfall for you is a happier life.

Offer Gratitude

Whatever you have in life and wherever you are, you can find some reason to be grateful. Today, you may be anxious, but you showed up, for instance.

Acknowledging your own good fortune – no matter how seemingly slight or minimal at the moment – can actually enhance your overall wellbeing.

Researchers have found that being truly grateful for what you have can yield important physical benefits – we sleep better and enjoy better relationships!

Not only that, but researchers have also found that your level of gratitude is inversely proportion to your level of depressed feelings or sadness.

The more grateful you are in life, the better the chances are that you will actually enjoy what you have!

So, I’ve shared the Secret to Happiness. Being happy is that simple. But maybe you’re wondering, “Why bother being happy”? There’s so much drama with politics, healthcare, the economic crisis, global warming, domestic strife, you name it! I get it. Sometimes it seems that if you’re expecting the world to make you happy, it simply isn’t going to happen.

However, you might realize the value of instilling these four practices into your daily life if you realize that choosing to engage in health-promoting behaviors will positively influence your own satisfaction with life – as well as of the lives of those around you!

Happy people enjoy less stressful lives!

Happy people are protected against some forms of chronic illnesses.

In fact, happy people actually live longer, too!

Plus, you are a LOT MORE FUN to be around if you’re feeling good about life!

You don’t have to win the lottery, earn a 4.0, bowl a 300, find the perfect job, find true love, or live a perfect life to find happiness.

You just need to do four things:

Meet the world with a positive attitude.

Smile at and befriend others.

Cut us all a little slack.

Be consciously grateful for all that you do have rather than worrying about why you do not.

Why be happy? Because those of us who see the world as a good place actually will enjoy the present moment more fully and typically have a few more moments in life to enjoy that the Debby Downers around us.

Be happy – just do it.