#or idk. breaking my leg and needing crutches and not being able to get a forearm tattoo bc crutches

[damnprecious]

I have officially booked the appointment for my tree tattoo, I can't waittttt

[bad-advice-its-very-bad]

tw foot pain and general vent

so we have posterior tibial tendon dysfunction (pttd) which is basically flat feet but it gets worse over time and idk if we’ll be able to walk by the time i’m 30 if not earlier. but rn we can walk but after a while it hurts. we have orthotics but they don’t do shit and i might need surgery. the shitty part is most people with pttd are 40+ and our abusive grandma has it .-.

tldr: feet go ow, maybe won’t be able to walk by age 30, trauma go brr

sry for that, what i mean to ask is do we count as physically disabled?

I’m pretty sure that’s by definition a physical disability

also that sucks :(

Kinda unsolicited advice here, feel free to ignore me.

But have you looked into canes or crutches? Just because I’ve heard from TONS of people they do help with these sorts of things, one of my old friends with a leg deformity when I met up with them had just gotten a cane and they were so happy to have it.

But there’s no one size fits all, but mobility aids even now might help a little bit.

from what I gather, if something will help you from being in pain then try it. Disability is a large and confusing thing, and lots of people are also ableist as shit I should know. (I love having severe asthma attacks because people won’t let me sit out certain activities, or force me to run or exert myself without my inhaler </3 /j)

so use accessibility’s and whatever if it helps, people are always gonna judge those they don’t understand.

like I full on forget that I have literally god awful asthma, like it’s normal to think you can power through the pain and do the things you “should” be able to do. But there’s a difference between healthy limit pushing and unhealthy limit pushing, like you should be able to push your limits on occasion when you’re happy to but if you’re doing it everyday and your in pain everyday from something you should be able to rest and try again with then that’s kinda shitty if the people around you are allowing that.

your allowed to take breaks or rest, your allowed to use accessibility’s not typically associated with your disability. Your allowed to do whatever you need to ease the pain of your going through.

Idk, I hope this helps shitpostsystem!

if it doesn’t apply then that’s okay too! The bad advice blog is that sometimes bad advice, and sometimes we have to return later and try again. There’s nothing with both or me or whatever being wrong, this is a safe place to fuck up.

Hope you’re having a wonderful day! :D

[redraspberryleaf]

More info from my paramedic best friend who has had every injury and every illness ever!!

(Everything below this is a direct quote)

In my experience as someone who has done exactly this, more than once. Anyone stubborn enough to keep doing extreme physical activity is probably just going to “ignore the problem until it disappears”/“pretend everything is fine” and just deal with being in pain all the time. Crutches and leg braces aren’t required. I’ve never used crutches for any of my breaks. Occasionally, tape can be helpful for surrounding soft tissue that is angry about what you’ve done to it, or the trusty Velcro ankle brace for the associated joint pain caused by messing up the surrounding bones. I generally don’t use those if I’m somewhere people are going to comment on it. Ice, and stretching are the MVP’s. NSAIDS can also be a good (taking ibuprofen and acetaminophen has been proven to be effective as taking codeine for pain relief in fractures), however I can’t take them due to anaphylaxis so I just simply try to avoid thinking about the pain by doing other things, or more physical activity, because that’s good pain that is distracting and I am in control of.

Use of braces and crutches can be okay for splinting purposes or reducing weight bearing but if the bone has already healed incorrectly then there is no point. Immobilizing the injury also causes loss of muscle, as well as weakness and stiffness in the surrounding joints which frustrating and inconvenient, so I tend to avoid that at all costs.

Topical pain relief in the form of diclofinc (also an nsaid I can’t use) is reported to be very good for chronic pain caused by fractures and this character would likely benefit from that if he could access it.

Mainly the character is just going to have chronic pain indefinitely, perhaps so weird muscle imbalances from guarding the injury as it healed, and some stiffness in the surrounding joints. May also have some visual asymmetry between the two limbs depending on the degree of fractures and type.

Not getting treatment or stopping activity for your broken bones will also cause them to take forever to heal. Simple fractures usually take between 6-8weeks to heal and go through the 4 stages of healing they need to to heal. Not stopping physical activity means that stage 2 of healing (soft callus formation and granulation tissue formation) is going to take way longer than it should because it’s not immobilized so it can’t effectively form that “scaffolding” where it stabilizes the fracture, and can’t move to the next stage of healing’s hard callus and ossification process.

Depending on the fracture type, you’re much more likely to end up with nonunion, delayed union, or malunited fractures without having the fracture treated. But if the character is physically able to do physical activity during healing, it’s not super likely, because it would impact balance and stability while weight bearing and somewhat inhibit this

Not sure if this was helpful at all?

Idk, I’ve definitely got chronic pain, and some associated joint problems, and asymmetry, but I’d say I turned out fine. Nothing that isn’t managed

I saw that you had a post saying fic writers could ask you for advice writing medical stuff for fic. I was wondering if someone who has had multiple leg breaks that healed improperly would need crutches/leg braces (if so, which would be better and for how long). By healed improperly, I mean the bone wasn't set and he would've kept doing extreme physical activity while the bone was broken. (He had no choice to ignore the pain, if you even wondering why he would do that.) Thank you in advance, and it's okay if you can't get an answer

Answer from a doctor:

The bone would likely would heal in an abnormal shape and length with the muscles and tendons at the incorrect length to accomodate. There would probably be bone spurs that would inflame the muscles and tendons passing over them, especially when doing a lot of moving.

Your character would have limited range of motion, chronic pain, and likely need mobility aids for life. These aids would probably differ day-to-day and depend on the setting, as well as how stubborn and proud they are.

The specifics would all depend on the type of break, which bone, the type of activity that's being done on the break, etc.

Answer from me (based on experience):

Ad a teen I rolled my ankle at the start of a 3000m, completely ignored the injury, and won the race still. Only after that did I realize what happened (apperently the muscles had gotten fucked up and actually shifted my fibula out of place). I didn't break a bone but it was a fibula injury that I ignored and continued training on for months, even going to a week long track camp where I was doing about 20km of high impact on asphalt and hills per day. I ended up with a wicked limp, chronic pain, shin splints, plantar faciatis, and a lateral muscle imbalance across every part of my body but my arms from trying to compensate. Youd look at me from behind and see my hips, my shoulders, my neck, everything was at an angle. Eventually I did enough physio that I was mostly okay again but if I was ever lady and didn't do my stretches, warm up properly, and build up training properly I would get issues coming back. I stopped running in uni and decided to pick it back up again one day and instant plantar faciatis.

The second part to this is experience with an actual broken bone. A couple years ago I broke my fibula. It was a spiral fracture to my left fibula about a third or so of the way up the bone. I crashed on a downhill while skateskiing and because I was in race skis those bindings don't typically have a safety release, so when my ski spun around in a full circle so did my foot. This broke my fibula in a spiral shape.

~side note: if your character is fighting and moving on a broken leg it's probably a fibula since that's not the weight baring bone. This is the one you hear about athletes finishing a game on a broken leg. It's possible with adrenaline but it's still hell and will cause you issues in the long run. A tibia is weight baring so you shouldn't really be able to stand on that, and a femur break usually will get you air lifted to the hospital because you're about to die.~

Anyway, with all the issues of the last injury I'd had, I really stayed off of my broken leg and actually atrophied.

Now with this one, I can say it healed wrong. According to an mri and xrays they don't see any issues but I was treated in a tiny town er during a massive covid spike before the vaccine was available so I never got a second cast after the swelling went down.

After healing, I have always had an aching pain deep in the bone that doesn't go away. It throbs worse with impact activity or if I spend a lot of time on my feet on hard floors. I am a huge sucker for standing on grass these days. That ankle is actually a lot thicker now and is a lot more unstable. I have pain in the bone from the break but on bad days when I'm really hurting the worst of it in in the muscles and tendons of my ankle, the top outside of my calf, and my hip and glute. I never expected this but my ass is SO TIGHT ALL THE TIME and it hurts like a bitch. Massage helps, but it's not the sexy kind. It's the full body weight on an elbow jabbed into my ass cheek or hip flexor kind. This is all because with my ankle being really unstable from the tendons and muscles getting inflamed from popping over small bone spurs all the time, the hip has to work overtime to try to compensate and stabilize more than it normally would. I also experience not quite muscle weakness on that side, so much as muscle fatigue. Basically, everything on that side is working over time and is always tired. For the first three years after I had a wicked limp, was in a lot more pain than I am now, and could only run if I absolutely had to. After doing a lot of physio I can run again but certainly am limping after a 10k. I also have a lot of scars from my bad side making me trip over roots and become impaled on sticks.

I had the opportunity to heal fairly well overall and access physio but I'd I didn't I know I'd be using a cane and taping my ankle constantly. Before I did physio when I lifeguarded I also needed a chair because walking around on tile barefoot for hours would have me in tears even with my hugh pain tolerance. Repeated breaks over time with bad healing and limited access to care would def require mobility aids and would lead to life-long chronic pain.

I'll be back with responses from the rest of the team soon.

Bonus! Where my bone broke starts aching really bad the second I start to get dehydrated. Everything also hurts most at night and the second I stop moving.

[glitchstoxicwaste]

Can I request a five hargreeves x reader who broke their ankle? So five maybe helps them around? Idk

MY FIRST FIVE REQUEST OMG! This isn't 100% what you asked for, it went into a different direction, I got hit with feels just now and wanted to get some sad outta me with fluff and comfort, I need more of hurt/comfort rn tbh lmao.

Slashers | Five

Five Hargreeves x Hurt!Reader

TW: Pain

↓Continue under the cut!↓

C'mon, its Five, he's gone through so much shit in his life that my body aches just from thinking about it.

He's a small sassy bitch, but we love him anyway.

He calls a "Family meeting", aka, he yelled for everyone to get their asses in the living room because it was related to you, and with you being such a huge hit in the family, they came BOLTING to see what was up.

Five explains that you had broken your ankle in a way that made HIM have to look away before vomiting, and that you were in the hospital due to it. He held up a pretty good stoic façade, but even Clause saw could tell he was panicking inside.

Once you got back to the Academy, cast on your leg and using crutches, Five was instantly by your side to help you to where you wanted to go, sitting you down on the couch, putting your crutches somewhere you could reach, fluffing a pillow, and resting your foot on said fluffed object.

He will be attached to you at the hip.

Guiding you up and down the stairs.

In and out of bed.

Changing.

You name it he's on it.

Hold you close to him every night.

At first you think it's because he loves you and wants to make sure you feel safe, but really, it's because he's scared.

Reality struck him hard, he realized that you are human like him, you get hurt and feel the pain like most people on this planet do. You have emotions and break down at times. You could be killed and he would never be able to hold you like this again, to kiss you, hear your voice, or get to say;

"I love you, Y/N... oh so much."

Your breathing hitches and you look up at him, he's not looking at you but at the wall behind you, tears in his eyes and a straight face masking his fears.

His fears of you leaving, the fears of you being killed, hurt, the fears of loosing you forever and never having another opportunity to get a moment like this, so right now, he's going to be as kind and careful with you as he can.

He is showing you something he hasn't shown... ever really... vulnerability.

He looks at you with tears still streaming down his face, he kisses your forehead, and holds you closer if possible, falling asleep with you in his arms, keeping in mind that you're there with him, sure you're in pain, he's avoiding touching your foot at all costs, but he's still as close to you as he can be, not just to make you feel safe and secure, but to comfort himself as well.

[59writes]

SEVENTEEN- REACTION: THEIR S/O GETS INJURED (PART 2)

(PART ONE)

part two of @honeyylin ‘s request!!! sorry it took so long honey ㅠㅠ

also check out honey’s acc!!! they’ve recently started writing fic so give em a visit!! <3

today’s photo theme is green green green green green green green green green green

(I didn’t proofread this I will when it’s not 5 am lol)

tw: food, injury

SEOKMIN

• *insert terrified screaming*

• yikes. this man. this poor fellow.

• he’s so worried about you!!!

• like. you’re fine. it’s not a big deal you just won’t be able to walk without crutches for a while

• but this man PHYSICALLY refuses to go to work

• Jihoon even comes to your apartment to beat Seokmin’s ass gently request he come to work cuz they kind of need him

• but no, because “y/n needs me more!!”

• please you’re fine. you can walk and you work from home already. you’ll live. You’ve been injured before.

• this goes in one ear and out the other!

• he will stay home and baby you and peek in your room every ten minutes like “hey are you ok???? do you need anything???”

• it’s kind of endearing

• the calls you keep getting from Seungcheol and Jihoon are not though because SOMEONE keeps forgetting to “call in sick” to work!!

• it’s just part of the whole shebang. he calms down eventually and gets over the anxiety of you getting even more hurt or struggling and goes back to the others

• but you bet your ass when he comes home at night you’re not going anywhere and he’s gonna baby you until he deems you all better

• also he definitely just likes babying you because he doesn’t declare you better until a week after the doctor does, “just to be safe!!!”

• he loves you very much and if anything we’re to happen to the love of his life he’d like. Evaporate on the spot

• 10/10 man right here

MINGYU

• ok so we know how clumsy this man is

• he technically knows how to take care of injuries

• also the injury was sort of maybe his fault ):

• he tripped over a damn rock and made you stumble too, falling and scraping up your leg

• and this poor man is apologizing faster than he raps

• you’re not badly hurt, and when the pain wears off you’re laughing

• and Mingyu’s all pouty lol

• and though you assure him that you’re ok and everyone trips up sometimes, he just wants to make it up to you

• he is also one of the other mfs who would make soup. him and Josh r gonna open a soup kitchen s2g

• but he’s also super cheesy and you wake up from a nap and see that Mingyu’s gone out and gotten flowers and made some nice food and made a little mini date in ur apartment

• and he just feels so bad !!!! please help this man

• once you joke that maybe you should get injured more often so you guys have more dates like this he finally really calms down

• but like I said, he’d know how to treat any injury

• maybe not well, and I’m sure this man’s instinctive response is “I will put a bandaid on it and move on with my life” but how focused he is when he is just wiping off dirt from your arm or leg or whatever and making you sit still while he gauzes it up is just really sweet he cares so much

MINGHAO

• this man does not know anything.

• I mean don’t get me wrong he’s incredibly smart and emotionally intelligent but also. there’s nothing in this man’s brain except for dastardly ideas

• and you nearly breaking your arm is not exactly a dastardly idea

• so he kinda just shuts down

• he wants to help !!! So bad !!!! but he can’t do anything !!!

• like he’s genuinely such a kind dude and always willing to help even if he teases about it and just always there

• and this is the one thing he can’t help with!!!

• so frustrated ):

• so he spends his time with you by lurking with a pout, ready for any request you had

• he definitely looks like a lost puppy ㅠㅠ

• maybe you act a little more helpless than usual so he can feel better about himself. just maybe

• seeing him brighten when you ask him to get the pasta from the top shelf or help with the laundry is completely worth getting hurt for!!

• eventually he cheers up and goes back to his normal and teasing ways

• and once you heal up he’s so glad he can hug you super tight again (:<

SEUNGKWAN

• Ah, Seungkwan.

• be prepared for lots of passive-aggressive scolding

• I mean when it first happens you can see the panic in this poor man’s eyes

• ok well technically you texted him about it but his reply was violently misspelled and he showed up at your house within 15 minutes

• tbh you should be scolding him because he definitely was speeding to get home that fast

• but he was scolding you!!!

• like wtf you’re already feeling shitty and then Seungkwan comes over and is acting like your mom

• but this man is emotionally mature!!!

• he notices how frustrated and snippy your replies get and calms down, hugging you tightly where you sit on the bathroom counter as he cleans you up

• complains about getting blood on his shirt tho the bastard

• but he definitely hangs out with you for the rest of the day and you catch up and eat ice cream while you lie around on the floor and it’s just. aju nice. (lol)

• he does his best to keep your mind off of any pain or struggling, and we all know this man is a master of distraction so it goes very well

• he’s a very home-y person and you always feel safe with him (:

VERNON

• his literal response is “well that’s not good”

• you fuckin call him like “hey sol I’m in urgent care kinda like. broke my arm” and he’s just like “Yeah that’s a problem”

• thank you Hansol “Sherlock” Chwe

• he is just. out of his element please this man will just stare at your cast or whatever with wide eyes like “yo you broke your arm” yes Vernon

• he’s kinda just fascinated ngl

• he lets you tell your story with wide eyes, beaming proudly when you said you didn’t cry

• he’s like “yeah that’s my partner (:< so cool and badass”

• he’s just very silly about it and doesn’t treat you any differently

• which is nice because you kinda hate people bringing attention to it cuz it’s annoying as shit already ):<

• and he’s already so helpful and willing to do chores or whatever so you don’t have to worry about carrying things or washing dishes or whatever cuz Vernon’s got it!!!

• plus it’s adorable how literally every night he’s just like “it’s so cool how you have a cast” like it’s the dumbest thing ever but he finds it so entertaining. like not even the fact you got hurt just like “holy shit like. it’s cement they basically cement your arm in place you have cement on your arm y/n you could knock someone out with that”

• he’s a cutie lol

CHAN

• ok contrary to popular belief I think he would handle it very well!!

• don’t get me wrong this man is PANICKING under the surface but like. he’s so calm about it on the outside??? hello????

• you call him during practice like “hey so I kinda got hurt I’m ok tho, at the doctor rn” and he’s just like “yes ok are you ok?!”

• little dude lol

• and even though you are, in fact, completely fine, he’s gotta worry smh it’s his job!!

• he comes home and listens to the story as he helps you change the bandages with the most gentle hands ))))):

• and being near you definitely helps calm him down

• he’s back to teasing and being goofy in no time

• this man also definitely knows some medical shit idk what makes me think that but he knows how to like. deal with an injury.

• he definitely is very medically aware idk man I feel like he listens to doctor speak cuz it’s cool and is like “oh yeah go ice that you don’t want it cramping up” whenever one of the other guys complains about something minor lol

• he’s very caring ): I love he sm (:

• he can be a little rat but he knows when to stop and be an ally and what an excellent ally he is!!!!!!!!!

I’m so sorry I’ve never done an after note like this before but seeing all the green and plants makes me think of this damn tweet and I can’t stop laughinh

“he has pollen allergy” I’m sobbing please

[keeper-not-hero]

MY THREE HUMANS AND MY THREE TROLLS ARE FINALLY DONE BEING THOUGHT ABOUT AND ARE NOW PLACED INTO THE WORLD FOR YOU TO ENJOY READING ABOUT, Massive post under read more!!!

[Obs: These ain’t kids. They’re all in their early 20’s tho.]

Gatolt Osbizb (name means nothing. = Muse of Doom.) - 

Looks: Hair that goes down to her shoulders, curly and surprisingly well groomed. Skin (and body) made up of tiny chunks stitched together. Fingers, hands, legs, slightly different shades of grey, with seams colored with the multitude of different blood types beneath. Blank eyes, shirt and pants. Simplistic dress code.

Personality: A hodgepodge of Troll flesh, bones, and a few cybernetic enhancements all stitched together into a singular being. Goldblood, purple blood, violet, and more. Both of her eyes are blank (though she can still see thanks to cyberoptics), and she is usually in at least a mild amount of pain due to the strain of her body barely being able to keep itself together. Despite all that, she tries to act cheery and tries to be the life of her friend circle, though not always with success. And besides, she rarely tries to mingle outside of it, feeling unwelcome in other circles.

Constantly requires maintenance which she usually does herself, and… fresh replacements. Her creator fucked up in making her, which means she is now slowly yet constantly rotting away, to the point every part of her body except the brain and enhancements are different than her first resurrection.  Her girlfriend, Bakhus, usually helps with gathering ‘replacements’. She feels like a burden due to her condition that sometimes leaves her bedridden for days, which makes her stay quiet and sometimes even enable her friends’ bad habits, because she doesn’t want to be a drag. Hates the fact her whole life revolves around her condition. Likes gardening and clockwork.

Bakhus Gredui (Greedy Bacchus / Dionysius. = Thief of Void)  - 

Looks: Hair that goes all the way to the floor and a few feet behind her, greasy, messy, and dragging food bits in it. Tank top with her sign (Sign of the Brazen) on it, suspenders and oversized clown pants. Juggalo make-up messy and somewhat faded, droopy yellow eyes, usually with a hunched stance. Very, very tall, and extremely strong - with some healthy weight to her body to go along with it.

Personality: A purple-blood that represses her kind and motherly urges under liters and liters of Faygo. A chef at heart and a great cook from years of experience, she constantly throws barbecues and small carnivals on her massive garden, which attracts lowblood and highblood alike. Her festivities have become small gathering spots for those who wish to mingle with the upper / lower classes despite their own status, and for spies of both the Condescension and those who oppose her. Bakhus is, of course, too busy grilling to mind that she has accidentally created the perfect neutral spot.

Despite her cooking prowess, the Faygo inhibits both her ability to feel much empathy or care about the taste of her food. Deliciously cooked and prepared meals placed near overly-sugary, soggy, Faygo-drenched pretzels. She carries a massive cookbook alongside her massive pot, which has recipes that certain blood types enjoy, and… recipes made out of said blood types. She has no qualms cooking violets and reds, and sometimes will go so far as to grab Faygo-drunk trolls in her cookout and take them inside to ‘rest’. They’re never seen again.

Also keeps a small spice garden. Gatolt usually takes care of it, with whatever isn’t used to cook as fertilizer. Occasionally, she sends the butchered corpses to Marciu. Who also happens to be Gatolt’s creator.

Marciu Shelli (Like, y’know. Mary Shelley. Frankenstein’s author. = Seer of Space)  - 

Looks: Short hair, think Eridan, but with no streak. Scrawny to a fault, and clearly underfed. Big scientist glasses with special prescription lenses, white lab robes that hide his starving figure and his left hand gloved with thick, hazmat-suit-like protection. The right one is a prosthetic, indigo tubes and wires trying to replicate the sensation of the original with… some success. Pointy nose, sharp teef.

Personality: Anxious, skittery and, quite frankly pitiful even for an indigo blood, Marciu spends most of his days either robbing graves for corpses or putting his ill-gotten gains to use in his laboratory. Deeply resentful of feelings he has about himself, he buries them deep within him and, to make sure no one can say he is valid or try to empathize with his pain, keeps pushing himself further and further down the hole until he pushes everyone away. Having lost a hand to a nasty accident involving a bone saw and a few too many of Bakhus’ spiked snacks, he also has a mechanical replacement.

A master of biomechanical engineering, he constantly creates half-troll, half-machine abominations to help him around the lab. Rotten servants just barely able to move their joints with hollow eyes and faces, mechanical hearts pumping blood and fuel throughout the system. Still, despite his best attempts at being as repugnant as possible, his friends still cling to him.

Except Gatolt. Gatolt has actively tried to kill him multiple times, being stopped only by Bakhus’ eternal kindness to the weirdo that occasionally gives her “aged” ingredients. Also, his human friends.

[Why does he have human friends? Idk, Pesterchum + machines or AU where humans and trolls live in the same world after a few Sburb/Sgrub/Swhatever versions playing out after homestuck and Lord English being gone.]

Bert Kairos (Albert Einstein and his whole relativity stuff + Kairos, a greek concept of time. = Mage of Time.)  - 

Looks: Very short and very curly hair. Dark skin, both legs missing, though one has a very unpolished, simplistic metal prosthetic to help him stand in one foot. Right arm missing too, half of a prosthetic attached to it,cut off at the elbow from an accident. Hasn’t bothered replacing it yet. Blouse with a robot symbol and shorts, chin stubble. Brown eyes.

Personality: A gentle soul who makes more time for everyone else than he ever did to himself. Spending literal days away from his parents’ home, staying in his makeshift workshop creating toys for the kids on his street and to help the people of his community. Lost both legs and an arm from accidents with heavy machinery and cars that he work repairing to make a living, usually for meager scraps out of the kindness of his own heart and the belief that it’s all part of a greater plan that he barely gets enough to survive, relying on crutches and Marciu’s prosthetics that often break because of even more accidents due to his very precarious working conditions.

He dreams of one day being able to inspire people, though. A big, endless machine of silly, simple delights. Not curing the world, not controlling the weather, a machine with the same utility as a painting. A machine that could cover the entire world in its width and length, proof that humanity can do anything if it just bands together. A wish that sometimes consumes his mind as he spends hours on end, instead of sleeping, building small moving pieces that will hopefully one day help fill this whole. This magnificent machine he will make to help mankind flourish through its artistic value, that they will sing his name in praise for generations, that mankind will be uplifted until we don’t need work, money, barriers, differences, just a homogenous mass streaking across the cosmos with machine brilliance. 

But, he has way too many people to take care of, so he never dabbles on it too much.

Andy Eissuh ( :) - Lord of Life) - 

Looks: Blonde hair tied in a manbun. Bushy stubble beard all over his face. Smuggest fucking grin you’ve ever seen. Blue eyes. Average height, an air of superiority that is as annoying as it is believable due to how he carries himself; like an untouchable douchebag. White tuxedo and business pants, y’know, like a doctor. Right? He’s even got the white cross! Yeah, sure, that sounds right. Like he cares about proper dress code for doctors.

Personality: A very, very, very bad doctor. A very bad doctor that has just enough good reputation and far too much money from their family to let their pretty much 100% patient loss rate slip without anyone being able to pry into it. Patient comes in, body bag goes out, and nothing ever leaves the hospital. The one time he actually saved someone was by accident, and it was a botched (and misdiagnosed by him) liver transplant where he accidentally removed the appendix instead of said liver, forgot to replace it, and the patient recovered in a short while with the help of the nurses from what he later learned was appendicitis.

Believing himself to be able to do no wrong, with a chirpy, colorful yet aggressively passive personality, he keeps his friend group around mostly to dispose of the bodies without many questions asked, and so he can feel better than the pathetic wretches he considers them. Completely blind to his irredeemably cruel medical malpractices, which he didn’t even study for, he simply bought his way into a degree because he “could feel it was my destiny.” Soft, sweet, and completely unhinged. Finding great joy preying upon the insecurities and naivete of his peers, which he feels is a breeding ground to use and abuse them for his own needs. Shoulda been smarter if you didn’t wanna get taken advantage of, duh!

Cain Pyrite (Cain the first sinner + Fool’s Gold. = Rogue of Light. ) -

Looks: Hair slightly above his shoulders, dark and greasy. Sickly pale skin, beeg librarian glasses. A nice fuzzy coat, plus shirt, plus jeans. Eye symbol on his coat. Looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in weeks, which, yeah, is absolutely right. Gentle smile, though it occasionally cracks into a nervous attempt at hiding… something!

Personality: Dedicated to… no, OBSESSED with preserving occult and ancient knowledge. Scrolls from ancient alchemists, bones of kings, relics thought long since lost hidden on the back of his seemingly normal book shop. Spending most of his days with no clients, he occasionally gets someone who is aware of his darker inclinations. He is always happy to trade knowledge for knowledge and artifact for artifact.

Only, not always the originals. No. Never the originals. 

Always finding a way to spin a story and make sure that he can spot out any fakes, he builds his collection of convincing lies, and hidden truths. Friends with the others since grave-digging always inherits some fun and interesting things, and his appetite for the esoteric and forgotten is only comparable for his taste in interesting and unique foods.

[goofygargoyle]

For clarification I think only 4 or 5 doctors were terrible to my face about my saying I have cervico medullary syndrome because pushing my occipital bone in makes my symptoms go away.

The rest just plain refused to see me

#medical abuse #doctors #medical neglect #tw

Dr Bolo, obviously, who spoke over me repeating a sentence over and over until I stopped trying to talk, in the operating room right after the invasive cervical traction (I tried to tell him before too), and tried to insist I had "occipital neuralgia" which is... something with the opposite symptoms that I have. (Headaches that get worse with pressure on the occipital part of the skull) (which I knew of because I'd started researching the occipital part of the head when I realized the thing, so I knew when he said it that he was wrong)

Dr Roo I'm counting because he said "no surgeon would help me" even if he kept his voice emotionless

the doctor that wasn't a neurosurgeon but I was told I had to see as a step to get surgery: not only berated me saying what I was saying was impossible (and contradicting himself by saying this wasn't his area of expertise so he didn't know) but also yelled at me for seeing him at all ????

Dr Sign, who was condescending as fuck, used a convoluted analogy that made no sense (something about my skeleton being a coat rack and my muscles being a coat, and if the coat was hanging weird it didn't mean the coat rack needed to be fixed, which like, what) then gave me 2 "experts" to contact, but those experts refused on the grounds of giving medical advice to nonpatients, and despite calls telling him he'd need to contact those experts doctor to doctor I never heard back

Whoever the fuck I went all the way into Manhattan to see. He was like "good news you don't need surgery, bad news I'm a surgeon so I can't help you". When I started crying he yelled at me for wanting "unnecessary" surgery. He also said the only surgeons who would take me would be swindlers and butchers. Then he spent the next 10 to 20 minutes??? coming in and out of the room berating me because my legs hurt to much to stand or walk. I was literally sitting on the floor, because they left me sitting in a hard chair that hurt more than the floor did, and that was as far as I could get. He kept saying that because I walked in I should be able to walk out. The other employees were getting me a wheelchair to wheel me out. But he just kept being a huge asshole. I asked him if he even remotely understood how illnesses like mine even work, since the illness I came to ask help for was the same illness that made my body hurt too much to get up. How did he not understand that I pushed myself too far to get here??? He was just like "yes I totally understand medical stuff get up"??? (Eventually some... nurses?? idk came back with a wheelchair and helped me stand up so I could get in it. they wheeled me down to the entrance and then I had to use my cane like a crutch and very slowly, while leaning against the wall, and taking many breaks, I limped outside, across the street, and into the ER of the tiny hospital next door. Eventually Dad came to drive me home)

The other ones were like. A couple got my MRI and xrays and said no. The chiari group at some large medical group said that they all work with DrRoo (I guess he was in their chiari group, I'd gotten sent to him by a different neurosurgeon who couldn't see me) and it would be a waste of my time and energy because they always tend to agree with Roo. One place told me that only orthopedic surgeons do skull surgery. One place told me their neurosurgeon "doesn't do surgery anymore". Like she took my info on Friday and said she'd call me back after hearing from the surgeon, then called me Monday and said she said that???

oh and the Spine Institute of Virginia told me that DrJazz would take my case -- oh wait you have Medicare? Well we do take Medicare but right now we've reached our quota of Medicare patients and can't take you. No there's no waiting list. Your illness sounds really severe, you should find someone who can take you before we can.

There were a handful of doctors who totally believe me and are sympathetic but can't help me. Nice Neuro, obviously, but the guy is so absent-minded and scatter brained. I had to remind him about the whole brainstem compression thing. A pain relief specialist. A chiropractor who thought if I came in once a week indefinitely he could gently coax my occipital bone back into place.

so yeah I was and still am super shocked that Dr LW was on board, knew what I was talking about, and totally wanted me to see DrJ.

[whileyoursleeping]

Habits

prompt: Just Eddie absentmindedly comforting Buck with a kiss to the forehead/head after a tough call. They aren’t even together and it just ends up becoming a thing they do.

idk man it’s been a long week i needed some fluff in my life

____________________________

Today doesn't feel like a win.

Buck joined firefighting because he got to be badass and help people at the same time, and that hasn't changed - he was telling the truth about that. He gets an insane rush from the bell going, from driving the truck with its lights and screaming sirens, from kicking in doors - people's worst days keep him on his toes and make him feel alive, and he'd feel bad about that if it weren't for the fact that he helps people.

They don't have deaths that often, really. It's a police thing, to go to the deaths. But sometimes the paramedics can't make it to help the cops out and then they're on deck and that's when things go sideways, usually.

He's broken five ribs of a nineteen year old today, a sweet and kind of frail looking girl who he thinks might've had an eating disorder of some kind - he knows what those look like. And her heart stopped, and they got there before anyone else, and he was the first to do CPR, the first to break her ribs, feel them give with absolute ease under his hands.

He feels everything. That's why he didn't join the SEALs. Because he feels it all and can't switch it off.

In the truck, Eddie's watching him. Buck resists the urge to squirm - Eddie knows him too well to think he's unaffected by today. He doesn't want Eddie to look.

Eddie taps his headset, then removes it. Buck follows suit reluctantly.

"You okay?" Eddie asks, loud over the roar of the engine.

"Yeah," Buck says, and he smiles, pretty convincingly if he does say so himself.

Eddie looks doubtful, but he pulls the headset back on, and they're quiet until they reach the 118. If Eddie shuffles a little closer, and Buck lets himself press his knee to Eddie's, no one says anything.

~*~

He's getting changed after the shift when Eddie finds him.

It's been a pretty shit day really. He's tired, and his leg is aching - it acts up when it's cold or when he's had a shit shift and he doesn't want to show it, so he grits his teeth and walks perfectly normally to his locker.

"Hey, Buckaroo."

It's Eddie's voice. He doesn't need to turn around. He lets himself feel a little warm at being called Buckaroo by Eddie, with the affection evident in his voice.

"Hey, man," he says.

"You want to come over tonight?" Eddie asks, stepping up to his locker near Buck's and beginning to shed his own uniform. "I'll pick up Chris from abuela's and we can have a pizza night. You still haven't seen Star Wars."

Buck wrinkles his nose. "I just don't get why people think Kylo Ren is hot," he argues.

Eddie laughs. "Yeah. Reminds me of my emo phase."

"Emo pha - what? Are there pictures?"

"Not that you'll ever see."

Buck pouts, and Eddie laughs. His face softens as he looks at Buck, and he steps a little closer.

"I'm sorry today was hard," Eddie says, sincerely, then pulls Buck down by the back of his neck and kisses his forehead.

Buck - because he's tactile and affectionate and loves being touched and having people near him - doesn't think twice about letting Eddie grab him by the neck, even when he's being pulled down again. He blinks, unsure of what to say, when he's let go.

But it felt nice. It felt really nice.

"Are you coming to pizza night?" Eddie asks.

Buck nods mutely. Eddie hasn't let his neck go. It feels nice to be held, even if it's just like this. Does Eddie even know he did it?

"Okay." He's let go, and he immediately feels cold, adrift. "I'll see you there."

~*~

Buck somehow makes it over to Eddie's, even though if you asked him he wouldn't be able to say how.

The moment he knocks, he can hear Christopher inside, yelling, "Dad, Dad, Bucky's here!" and the clatter of his crutches to get to the door.

Buck is ready. The moment the door swings open, Buck's grinning, pulling Chris up into his arms and swinging him around, resulting in a delighted fit of laughter. He kisses Chris's hair, inhales the little kid smell, and then puts him down.

"You always beat your dad to it, little man."

"That's 'cause he's slow!"

Eddie's laugh rings down the hallway. He enters a second later, in soft, worn blue jeans and a red henley that makes Buck's mouth feel kind of dry. Somehow, he feels underdressed in his own black jeans and white hoodie.

"Hey," Eddie says, and pulls him into a hug.

Buck - who is a touch-hungry, needy little pest at the best of times - melts into it, smiling so hard his face hurts. "I didn't miss pizza did I?"

"I made Daddy wait!" Chris crows. "Buck, come look at my science project!"

They eat pizza and Buck helps Chris with his science project, they play Mortal Kombat, and the night settles as Chris begins to yawn and requests a bedtime story from both of them. It's a little hard, two grown men crowded onto one single bed, but they manage, and Chris is out like a light halfway through the second story.

Eddie shuts the door to Chris's bedroom quietly and heads back to the kitchen. Buck has already started cleaning up.

"Don't do that," Eddie says. "You're a guest. Guests don't clean."

"Guests don't eat their friend out of house and home and then leave," Buck replies. Eddie smiles, then leans against the counter, almost nervous.

"Listen," he says, and Buck - detecting the change in the atmosphere almost immediately - sobers up, takes up a similar position, and waits to hear whatever this is - maybe the evening didn't go as well as he thought and he overstepped with the homework thing.

"I'm sorry about kissing you on the head," Eddie says. "I do it with Christopher when he's upset, and I was on autopilot. It was inappropriate of me. I'm sorry."

"It wasn't inappropriate," Buck says, flustered for a number of reasons (one of them being that he has never once in his life used the word "inappropriate" in conversation). "I liked it. It was nice."

Once realising what he said, he promptly starts praying for the ground to open up beneath him and swallow him whole, preferably for eternity. He's twenty seven and admitting he likes being kissed on the forehead. Fantastic.

"Oh." Eddie smiles. "That's... good then?" He looks a little awkward. "I just didn't want you to be uncomfortable."

"I'm not. Wasn't."

Eddie laughs. "You look pretty uncomfortable, Buck."

It's true. He's wedged himself into the corner counter with his hands deep in his pockets, makes a conscious effort to relax. "I thought I was in trouble," he admits.

"For what?"

"I don't know, something?"

"We gotta stamp that out of you," Eddie sighs, but his eyes are warm and face affectionate. "C'mon. You owe me a rematch."

~*~

It's sort of a habit after that.

They have some bad calls. Someone drowns, and Buck - who jumped in and pulled the guy out - shivers in the back of the firetruck in midwinter L.A temperatures until they get back to the firehouse. Eddie sits with him, puts a blanket around his shoulders, and presses a soft kiss to the side of his head.

Chimney's eyes just about bug out of his head, and Buck is almost ninety percent sure that Hen snapped a sneaky picture to show Bobby and Athena, but he's cold and wet and miserable and doesn't really care.

They send Eddie into the change rooms with him, because he's near hypothermic and they're worried about him collapsing. He gradually turns the water temperature of the shower up until it's scalding and stands there until his skin turns red and the shivering stops, and when he exits the showers, Eddie is there.

"You waited?" Buck asks, surprised.

"The last thing I want to have to tell Christopher is that his Buck died falling over in the shower because I wasn't paying attention."

Buck gets dressed, sits down on the bench, and sighs heavily. Eddie sits next to him.

"You okay?" he asks quietly.

"I just... wish he'd made it." A lot of things don't make sense to Buck after the tsunami. Why he lived even while cut and bleeding and on blood thinners, barely a month out of a pulmonary embolism that also should have killed him, and so many others died. "Doesn't make sense."

Eddie sighs, puts his arm around Buck's shoulders again, and draws him in close, until their thighs are pressed together. Eddie's lips press into his temple again, and Buck sighs at the contact.

"Easy, cariño," Eddie murmurs into his skin.

Buck weighs his options. No one is looking for him because Eddie is here with him, and he wants so badly to snuggle down into Eddie's warmth, but he also knows the guy isn't necessarily as tactile as him and almost definitely straight - he had a wife after all - but it's been a long time since someone held him, and not the other way around.

He takes a chance, nudges closer and down until his head is mostly tucked under Eddie's chin. Eddie, for his part, just raises his head to make more room for Buck.

Someone will look for them eventually, Buck knows. Still, he waits for Eddie to end their half-cuddle.

"If you get lonely tonight," Eddie says, quietly, "there's a spot for you at my place."

Buck doesn't believe him now, when it's light out and he knows where he is, but later - when it's dark and he's woken from a nightmare - believing Eddie or not won't matter.

~*~

"Chris!"

He's sitting up, nightmare fading, panic whirling through his mind like a twisted merry go round. There's water, he's breathing it in, and everything is upside down and he can't breathe.

"Chris, Chris-"

He's out of bed, going God knows where, makes it halfway down the stairs before he slips and falls. He crashes to the bottom, and the impact serves only one purpose - waking him up.

He finds his phone, dials Eddie. It's the only action his brain is capable of taking, even as he hates himself for waking the man up.

"Hullo?" Eddie's voice, sleepy, comes.

Buck tries to take a breath, but it catches. He feels cold.

"Buck?" Eddie asks, his voice sharper. "Are you alright?"

"Chris?" Buck asks, shyly, feeling suddenly very stupid for panicking.

"Chris is okay," Eddie says, calm. "Are you okay?"

He hesitates. Eddie breathes on the other end of the line, grounding him. "I had a nightmare," he says, gulping, "about the tsunami. Fuck, Eddie, I'm sorry, it's late-"

"Come over," Eddie interrupts.

"What?"

"Come over. You need sleep and you aren't gonna do that alone."

"Eddie, it's... well, I don't know what time it is, exactly, but-"

"Come over, Buck," Eddie says, and the line cuts out.

Unsure of what else to do, and honestly a little soothed by being ordered around, Buck packs a bag of his things and heads to Eddie's. The house is dark when he gets there, but as he sits in his car - debating turning around and leaving - the front door opens.

It's Eddie, in sweats and nothing else. God really has no mercy on Buck today.

He piles out of the car, feeling childish and stupid, but Eddie only smiles at him when he gets to the front door. "You okay?"

Buck nods mutely, but Eddie's frowning, and that's when Buck realises he woke up crying and almost hasn't stopped, and that he's limping.

"Come on," Eddie says, taking Buck's arm gently. "This way."

"The couch is-"

"You aren't sleeping on the couch, Buck. It's freezing."

"But I-"

Eddie pulls him down and kisses his head again, effectively ending his sentence. "We'll stop by Chris's room on the way," Eddie says quietly. "You can see for yourself that Chris is fine."

His throat closes up, so when he says, "Thank you," it sounds quiet and wobbly.

Chris is, sure enough, fast asleep and fine under his covers. Dry, safe. Buck watches him for a few minutes, until Eddie pulls him gently, and they go to Eddie's room. It's sparse, compared to Chris's - everything Eddie has, he gives to his son.

There's something attractive about that. Buck will definitely not analyse the fuck out of it later.

"Buck," Eddie says.

"Huh - yeah?"

Eddie's smiling gently. "The bed isn't gonna eat you."

He's been standing there long enough that Eddie has stripped down to the cut-off sweatpants he wears to bed. He's watching Buck expectantly.

Buck shrugs his way out of his clothes. It's not that he's shy about how he looks - he works hard and he knows it shows - but being around Eddie makes him nervous. He feels vulnerable. It's almost nice, in a terrifying way.

"You are thinking so damn hard," Eddie groans. He's already in bed, on his stomach, hands beneath the pillow. He's got a tattoo on his spine Buck somehow hasn't noticed before, and his lats are defined as if he'd been hand-drawn by an artist.

"Sorry," Buck says sheepishly, and climbs into the other side of the bed before he can really stop to consider what he's doing. He's tired, and his brain is fogged by the stress of his nightmare, and Eddie is offering him something he doesn't know how to ask for, so he takes it. Selfishly, he takes it.

He rolls onto his side, away from Eddie, and closes his eyes, willing sleep to come. He's keyed up still, from the nightmare that shook him awake and the implications of what being in Eddie's bed could mean alongside the kisses, and if he lets himself drift too much he's back in yesterday, feeling the drowning man's ribs break beneath his hands.

(He never wanted to hurt people, only help them. It turns out those can be the same thing. Nobody warned him.)

"Buck," Eddie says quietly.

Buck jumps. He thought Eddie was asleep. "Yeah?"

"Roll onto your stomach."

He does. It's easy to do what Eddie tells him to. The other man has never led him astray before.

"Easy," Eddie murmurs, which is the only thing that stops buck from jumping when he feels Eddie sitting at his hip, and Eddie's calloused hands on his shoulders, massaging.

He didn't realise how tense he was. He relaxes, lets Eddie manipulate his head from side to side and dig his fingers into all the tender parts Buck didn't know existed.

He's falling closer and closer to the edge of sleep. Even as he does, his belly stirs with heat - he hasn't been touched like this for a long time.

Eddie finds a knot under his shoulder blade, pulls his arm out a little to open the joint up, and digs in.

"Ow!" Buck says, only remembering to keep his voice down at the last second.

"Sorry, sorry," Eddie says guiltily. He'd jumped when Buck had flinched from the pain, and now he's rubbing gently, apologetically, at the kinks that make up Buck's spinal cord. "It's supposed to be relaxing. I didn't realise you were this tense."

"Me neither," Buck admits. "I was relaxed."

Maybe a little too relaxed. He's half hard, which means there's no way he's rolling over anytime soon. He wants Eddie to keep going - to maybe duck below the waistband of his sweats.

He doesn't think about it too hard. Being attracted to men is new, but it doesn't feel that different from being attracted to women. No, the part he's freaked about is that it's Eddie, and knowing Buck's streak of relationships, he'll almost definitely fuck things up.

"Good." He feels Eddie lay down next to him; his hand keeps moving up and down Buck's spine, soothing him. "Go to sleep, cariño."

Cariño, Buck muses. It sounds familiar, and affectionate. If he was more awake, he'd probably be able to work out why.

"Night," he mumbles.

"Goodnight, Buck."

~*~

He's half awake because the door is opening.

Sometimes, his SEAL training is effective. Sometimes, because he's out of practice and relaxed, it's not. Today it's at the halfway mark, where his body instinctively knows that someone is nearby, but doesn't care enough to react.

There's a heavy arm slung over his waist, and someone breathing nearby. Eddie, Buck thinks, and the knot of momentary panic in his chest eases.

"Daddy, you didn't tell me Buck was here!"

Buck groans, raises his head from the pillow to see Chris attempting to climb onto the bed. "Hey, buddy," he croaks. He reaches down with one arm, gets it around Christopher, and hauls him up. "Why're you up so early?"

"We're always awake this early," Eddie's voice mumbles. "Chris, we said no waking Daddy up before six thirty, didn't we?" His fingers flex at Buck's hip, and Buck wishes more than anything that Eddie was dragging him close to kiss him.

"It's six-thirty-five, Dad!"

Buck laughs sleepily, tucks Christopher closer to his chest. The kid goes easily, melts into his body and lays there with his hand on Buck's neck, grinning up at him brightly.

"Dad," Chris says.

Eddie makes a vaguely muffled noise that Buck thinks may sound like a prayer for death, but doesn't do anything else, other than sling his arm over Christopher's waist. His hand lands on Buck's hip, and Buck twitches helplessly.

"Yeah, buddy?" Eddie mumbles.

"How come Buck's sleeping in your bed?"

"Because he was tired."

There's a long pause, as if Chris is contemplating something - which is never good. "Mommy used to sleep in your bed too," Chris points out.

Dead silence falls over them. Buck freezes as Eddie, suddenly very awake, raises his head and looks right at Buck.

"I'm gonna go make breakfast," Buck says, and not only does he literally fall out of bed, he trips on his jeans in the doorway, causing Christopher to laugh and clap mercilessly. Buck loves the kid, but he's way too smart for his own good.

~*~

More close calls after that. Buck nearly falls off a ladder (again), which earns him a stern talking to by Eddie and a few off-handed comments from Chim about needing to lose a few pounds.

Eddie kisses him on the head that night before they leave, and Buck feels the spot his lips touched all night.

A week later, it's more of the same - a bad pileup and an overzealous Buck results in a burn to his hand, which is superficial but still has Eddie muttering in furious Spanish as he does first aid. Buck didn't know forehead kisses could feel angry, but this one does.

He decides to be more careful. Eddie's blood pressure can't take much more of this, he suspects.

Only even being careful Eddie finds reasons. He makes a perfectly logical call during a job and comes out unscathed (which hasn't happened in, like, three years at least) and Eddie is still worried and looking like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I'm fine, Eds," Buck says, and gives his best winning smile. "What, you worried about not keeping up with me?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Estúpido," he mutters, but he's almost smiling.

"Hey! I don't understand Spanish, but I can guess!"

Eddie finally cracks a grin and pulls Buck down by the collar to give him a quick kiss on the head.

"So," Chimney says, later, when they're getting changed. "How long have you and Diaz been a thing?"

Buck almost chokes on the muesli bar he's wolfing down. "Me and-? We aren't. We're not."

Chimney doesn't look convinced. "You sure he knows that?"

"It's just a, a thing," Buck splutters.

"I thought you said it wasn't a thing?"

"No, it isn't - we're not a thing, the kissing thing is a thing, it's not - it doesn't mean we're together! We're just friends!"

"Oh, please," Hen scoffs - she's waited for them outside the locker rooms. "Buck, have you seen the way that man looks at you? You aren't just anything."

"I thought he was gonna blow a fuse when Buck was hanging off that ladder," Chim says thoughtfully. "Just about tore strips off the maintenance guy for not fixing it better."

"He did?" Buck asks, a little awkward.

"Sure did, Buckaroo. He loves you."

Buck bristles. "I'm straight!"

Hen just outright laughs at that, and Buck wilts. "Well," he hedges. "I mean, I thought I was..."

"Honey," Hen says, "even I'm not resistant to the Diaz charm. You can't be held responsible for waving goodbye to straight in the rearview mirror."

Her and Chimney high five gleefully. Buck bangs his head dramatically against a firetruck. Just his luck that he'd end up falling for the guy who gives him totally platonic forehead kisses.

~*~

Things get decidedly more awkward after his revelation.

He's a floundering mess around Eddie, who doesn't even seem to take offence at it - he just smiles and laughs like Buck is the funniest person ever.

Everyone's having fun except him, given that he's trying to get his head around liking Eddie the same way he liked Abby and Ali.

The forehead kisses continue, except now Eddie's doing it when Buck's fine but Eddie's had a rough day. Buck considers starting except he doesn't know how to without making things infinitely worse for both of them.

Eddie notices he's being weird and brings it up all of once: "Look, I know you said it didn't bother you, but if you want me to stop, you can tell me to anytime-"

"It doesn't," Buck rushes to say. "Don't. I don't want you to. To stop that is."

God, hasn't the universe fucked with him enough already?

~*~

Eddie calls in sick two weeks later and Buck, because of who he is as a person, goes to the grocery store after work, picks up ingredients for soup, and goes around.

He's geared up to argue his way into the house, sure that Eddie won't want to see him when he's like this, so when Eddie opens the door to his knocking his jaw is set and he's ready to fight dirty to get inside.

"Buck?" Eddie asks.

"You look terrible," Buck informs him, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

"Thanks, Buck."

But he's right, Eddie does look bad. He's pale and his eyes are red-rimmed and he's wearing a hoodie, which he never does, that's a little too big on him.

"Bobby said you were sick," Buck says, "so I'm going to make you soup." He's nervous and trying to cover it up with confidence, and Eddie kindly doesn't call him on it. He just smiles a little.

"Do I get a say in this?"

"No," Buck says. "Where's Chris?"

"With abuela. I didn't want him to catch it. But she can't keep him a lot longer." Eddie's getting that hunted look in his eyes, the one he had when he first joined the 118 and didn't know how to access childcare and abuela had hurt her hip. "I'm not really up to looking after him either."

"I'll look after him," Buck says instantly. "We'll be quiet, I promise."

Eddie's face breaks into a smile. "You sound like you're trying to convince me to have a sleepover."

"Can we, Eddie? Pleeeease?"

Eddie laughs, coughs, and stands back to let Buck in. "Not that I'm not grateful," he says, "but why're you here?"

"I told you,, I'm making soup," Buck says matter-of-factly. "Go sit down somewhere."

Eddie takes a seat at the kitchen table, where he can watch as Buck works. Buck knows better than to pick this battle, so he says nothing, just starts unloading groceries from bags and chattering aimlessly as he gets preparing things.

"That was when the new guy slipped and fell right into it - grey water, man, pretty much the grossest shit you could ever go through and - that's my sweatshirt."

Eddie looks like a deer in the headlights, but Buck's certain he's not wrong. It's the white sweatshirt he'd worn here when they had dinner. After the first forehead kiss.

"Oh, really?" Eddie asks, so unconvincingly Buck actually snorts.

"Yeah." It's a little long on Eddie, but it fits well enough around his shoulders. "That's definitely mine. And you know it's mine."

"Sorry," Eddie mumbles.

"Don't be." Buck, a little slow on the uptake, realises two things simultaneously - one, that Eddie knew it was his sweatshirt and didn't return it to him, and two, that Eddie had knowingly put it on afterwards. He grins.

"You wanted to wear my clothes."

"Buck," Eddie says, almost whining. He's begging Buck to drop it but Buck has never known when to quit, even when he's ahead.

"My sweatshirt is your forehead kiss!" Buck crows.

"Dios mios," Eddie mumbles, holding his head in his hands. "Este imbécil no tiene idea..."

Buck feels like he should be at least a little bit outraged at the definite use of the word imbecile in that sentence, but he's too busy feeling warm and fuzzy at the idea that Eddie takes comfort in wearing Buck's clothes the same way Buck takes comfort in Eddie's forehead kisses.

"You love me," he says smugly.

Eddie looks up, then, smiling with his eyes warm and pinned on Buck, and Buck suddenly feels as though the floor has fallen away - he's looking at it, he realises. He said it as a joke, but he's looking at Eddie now and Eddie is looking at him and Eddie so clearly loves him it hurts.

"Te amo," Eddie says, still with that expression.

Buck doesn't need a translation for that. He knows what that means. He knows it means Eddie is putting his heart on the line for him, without much of an indication of how Buck feels at all.

He can feel how hard he's smiling, and if it hadn't been for the door opening he might've done something about the confession then and there. But then Chris is yelling, "Bucky's here!" and he can hear Eddie's abuela laughing in the background, and he goes to meet them - lets his hand catch on Eddie's shoulder, first, lingering, before getting to the door.

"Hey, buddy!"

Chris laughs as Buck swings him around. "No one said you were coming!" he says excitedly.

"I decided to surprise your dad." He puts Chris down. "You wanna help me make him soup?"

"Yeah!"

Chris heads for the kitchen, and Buck straightens, face-to-face with Eddie's abuela. She's smiling.

"Edmundo is very lucky to have a man like you," she says, pulling his shoulder until he leans down far enough for her to kiss his cheek. "Chico dulce."

He glows at the praise, at the acknowledgement that people know how Eddie feels, apparently, and that they think Buck is a good choice.

It's a quiet night after that. Buck makes soup with Christopher's help, then gets both Diaz boys situated in the living room. Christopher has math homework so complicated it makes both their heads hurt, but they have more luck with history, which mostly turns into Buck re-enacting some of the more dramatic civil war battles and attempting a poor English accent. Eddie - who has pretty much stayed on the couch since dinner - watches them and smiles.

Buck puts Chris to bed on time, reads him a story. As he's turning off the light, Christopher mumbles, "Buck?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for taking care of Dad."

His heart swells. He leans down and kisses Chris's forehead. "Of course, kiddo. Sleep tight."

He leaves the door a crack open, with the hallway light spilling in, and goes back to the living room. Eddie sits up a little as he enters.

"About what I said before-" Eddie begins, his face worried and body tense beneath the blanket.

"Please don't take it back," Buck pleads.

Silence falls over both of them. Eddie stares at him, and Buck shuffles his feet around helplessly. Appearing small is hard to do when you're six foot two, but he's trying his best - it never worked with his dad, but it can't hurt to try.

"Buck," Eddie says quietly. "Come over here."

Buck obeys mindlessly, goes to the couch and folds down on it awkwardly. Eddie sits up - if Buck looks carefully, he can see that there are light tremors shaking his frame. Maybe the fever is breaking.

"I wasn't going to take it back," Eddie says gently. "I was going to apologise for blindsiding you, but I wouldn't ever take it back."

Buck opens his mouth, then shuts it. "Chimney was right," he realises aloud.

Eddie frowns. "Chimney?"

"Chim told me you loved me! And that that's why you were kissing me so often!"

Eddie smiles that patient smile of his. "Why else would I be doing it?"

Buck flounders. Is he seriously the last person to know about this? Why is it that everyone always knows these things before him?

Eddie laughs, then. "Buck," he says. "You look like someone killed your puppy."

"I'm dumb," Buck moans, sinking further into the couch.

"Hey." Eddie reaches out and takes Buck's face between his hands, sending an instant flush through him. "If I'm right, and you want this as well, then of course you didn't realise. Maybe it felt too good to be true. You're not dumb."

Buck blinks. "I want to kiss you," he says.

"You'll get sick," Eddie reminds him gently. "But if you stay the night, maybe tomorrow."

"Okay," Buck says, smiling. "I'll stay."

[my-emotional-self]

Chris’ Helping Hands

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Smut, Fluff

Request: Hey let me start by saying that I LOVE your stories I went through 3 or 4 in one night your work is very appreciated <3 idk if you’re taking requests but do you think it’s possible to have a story where the reader has a broken leg and the cast is a big long (above knee), Chris is her friend (or bf whatever you think would work) and he helps her with wearing / taking off shorts /  skirts since that’s all she can wear really and things go on from there smut and all J thank you

Requested By: anonymous

“I don’t know about this,” you said with worry, sitting in the front seat of Scott’s car as you nervously chewed on your lower lip.  

Scott turned to face you, a scoff coming out of his mouth.  “I don’t get why you are so worried about this Y/N,” he spoke with a laugh. “It’s not like I’m bringing you to a strangers house.  It’s Chris…my brother.”

“It’s not that Scott, it’s just….ugh,” you gave up trying to even explain what was going through your head.

Scott had been your best friend ever since high school when you moved to Sudbury to live with your aunt after your parents passed away.  You had no siblings and no other family.  Scott immediately took you under his wing when you met him during your very first class at school your freshman year.  

That first day of school you were going to take the bus home, but Scott wouldn’t let you. Instead, he said his older brother Chris would give you a ride home.  At the time, Chris was a Junior in high school and he had no qualms with bringing his brothers new friend home.  In fact, ever since that day, Chris picked you up and took you home each day. And ever since that first day of meeting Chris, you knew you were head over heels for him.  

You weren’t a fangirl or anything like that ever since Chris became famous.  No, he meant much more to you than that since you had known him before fame.  The only thing that truly sucked about the whole ordeal, is that he treated you like a sister.

Looking down at your left leg in a full cast from your feet to above your knee, you scolded yourself; it was the whole reason you were in this predicament.  

Being clumsy was just a way of life for you, and you tripped down a set of stairs at work; not watching where you were going.  It ended up in a break in your leg that made you have to be in a cast for at least six to eight weeks.

Luckily since it happened at work, it was fully covered and you were able to take time off with your short term disability.  The only problem with this whole ordeal?  You had to have someone care for you as your apartment didn’t have an elevator and you had nobody to help you up and down the stairs, let alone help you get around your apartment.    

Once you graduated from school, your aunt had retired and moved to Texas, so you had been on your own since then.  Scott had been helping care for you while he was home visiting his family and you stayed at his mom’s house with him.  But now he had to go back to Los Angeles for work and Chris offered to help you out since he was take a break from filming for the moment.  

As much as you told him he didn’t have to look after you, he wouldn’t take no for an answer; and that’s how you found yourself, nervous as a scared kitten, as Scott drove you to Chris’ house.  

~~~

The moment Scott hugged you goodbye and left you alone with Chris, your nerves really started to kick in. It wasn’t that you were nervous about being around Chris; it was the fact of what it entailed to care for you. Since your cast came just above your knee, you have much difficulty bending and doing basic tasks such as getting dressed.  With Scott, it was easy because he was an openly gay man, so it wasn’t awkward when he helped you change or bathe.  

But now, it was Chris; your crush of many years that was going to help you do these tasks.  

“I really do appreciate you helping me out like this Chris,” your voice was soft as the two of you ate dinner on the couch that first night while watching Monday Night Football.  

He turned to you, giving you that award winning pearly white smile.  “It’s not trouble at all Y/N. I’m glad I could help.”

Your nervousness had calmed a bit while the two of you talked and watched football that night. When it was nearing midnight, Chris helped you up the stairs and to the guest bedroom.  

“Do you need any help tonight with anything?” Chris asked as he set your crutches next to the nightstand in case you needed to get up for any reason in the middle of the night.  

“Not tonight.  Usually night time is the only time I can get things done myself,” you remarked with a shy smile.

Chris bid you goodnight and shut the door, leaving you to some privacy.  It was true, that you didn’t need any help at night.  You easily took off your shirt and bra, putting on a large sleep shirt as you shimmied out of your skit.  It was easy to take your skirt off; putting on skirts was a whole other situation.  

You found it best to wear skirts as it was by far much easier to get up and down your thick cast; shorts and pants just weren’t cutting it.  

After hobbling to the bathroom with your crutches and brushing your teeth, you sunk into the soft mattress of the guest bed and dozed off into a peaceful sleep.  

~~~

The first few days went by in a breeze and you found yourself easily enjoying Chris’ company; your nerves completely leaving your body.  The first time he helped dress you in the morning, you couldn’t help but stammer through your words.  Luckily for you, Chris found it adorable.  

In fact, you couldn’t help but smile as his fingers caressed each time he helped you dress.  It even seemed as though he was giving you flirty eyes when he didn’t think you were looking at him; each time your heart skipping a beat.  

You had yet to shower, opting to give yourself more of a sponge bath in the bathroom behind closed doors, but now you were itching to get a hot shower in.  

That night, Chris helped you wrap your leg in a special bag as to not get your cast wet.  You did your best to hid your body with a towel, but it was no use and your clumsiness was in full force.  You had lost your balance in the bathroom as he wrapped your leg and your towel came off your body; showing yourself to him freely.  

Scrambling to get your towel back into place, you couldn’t help but see that Chris’ eyes were glued to your naked form.  It even sounded like a low growl came from his lips.  

That night was the night everything changed between the two of you; the sexual tension was so tense, you were sure a mouse sneeze could cut it.    

The following night, Chris didn’t let you get changed by yourself.  Instead, he set you down on your feet at the side of your bed and didn’t bid you a goodnight.  

He stood there, eyes on you and you felt your heart skip in your chest.  Your tongue darted out, wetting your lips as you watch his eyes trail up and down your body.  Again, you were wearing a short skirt and your body felt on fire under his intense gaze.

In a flash, Chris was kneeling before you, his fingers skimming up your right leg before hitching into the hem of your skirt.  You shivered under his touch; goosebumps now littering your exposed flesh.  

Chris’ fingers were pulling down your skirt and you had to suppress the moan that wanted to escape from between your lips.  You bit your lower lip, your eyes lust blown as you looked down at Chris kneeling before you.  Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his fingers trail down your soft, un-casted leg, pulling your skirt down.  

“Chris,” his name left your throat in a breathy whisper; eyes clenching shut as you bit down on your lip harder.  You wanted him; never before in your life had you wanted him more than in this moment.

“What is it Y/N?” his own voice was husky as his hands wrapped around your ankles, holding you steady to the floor of the bedroom.  “What is it that you need?”

Your eyes snapped open at his words, as if he could hear your thoughts.  With the two of you flirting the past week as you stayed at his house, he had to know how you felt about him.

“You Chris,” you whispered out.  “I need you.” That was all he needed to hear as his fingers danced lightly up your legs and back down again; only being able to feel at the thigh of your left leg.  Your inhaled sharply as you felt his fingers at your inner thighs.  

Chris gently pushed you back onto the bed, positioning you so your head was rested comfortably on the pillows.  You let out a deep breath as his eyes scanned your body; another shudder rippling through you.  

With your leg awkwardly bent slightly at the knee because of your cast, you tried to relax under his heated gaze.  

“I want to make you feel so good Y/N,” Chris whispered into your ear as he hovered above your shaking body.  This was what you wanted; what you needed, to feel his touch on your skin.  “I’ve wanted to do this for so long baby.  I want to taste you so bad.  Do you know hard you’ve made me during the last week when you wear those little skirts?”  That got your attention as your eyes widened in surprise.  You had no idea Chris felt this way about you.    

His lips descended onto your neck and you arched your back in return of the feeling.  Moving your head to the side, you gave him ample access to your heated skin; your hands coming up to wrap around his neck, not wanting to let him go.  

“Yes,” you strangled out as he bit a particularly sensitive spot on your neck.  He nibbled and suckled on your tender neck, making you moan in pleasure as you were sure he was leaving bruises on you; marking you as his.  

Chris pulled away, earning a frown from you as he smirked at your pout.  Grabbing the hem of his shirt, he pulled it over his head and shimmied out of his pants; your eyes growing wide at the sight of his large cock straining and erect in his boxers.  

“Fuck me,” you whispered at the sight of him straining; not thinking he would hear you.  You had a feeling he would be larger than average, but you could easily see how thick he was, feeling the wetness pool into your panties at the sight.  

“I plan in it,” he replied with a hardy laugh, making you flush with embarrassment.  

He leaned over you on one arm, using his other arm to help free you of your shirt before removing your bra as well.  You lay there on the large bed, nearly naked except for your black lace underwear as his eyes roamed up and down your body.  You were beginning to feel self-conscious under his stare, but you soon let that go as he spoke.  

“Fuck you are so beautiful Y/N.”  He bent down, claiming your right nipple with his mouth, making you cry out in delight. Your hands fisted into his longer locks, holding him there as his tongue swirled around your hardened bud.  The cool air of the room, mixed with his hot breath made you breathless.  

His mouth trailed down your bare torso, his tongue dipping into your belly button before moving south; his fingers hitching into your lace panties and pulling them off your body. Even though your leg was in a large cast, he had no difficulty doing so.  

“Mmmm,” he groaned as he spread your legs wide, opening you up for him as he stared at your dripping lips. He didn’t hesitate any longer as his mouth wrapped around your clit, humming in appreciation of your taste.  

“CHRIS!” you cried out as his tongue circled your clit; slowly inserting two fingers deep into your core. Your breath came in short spurts as he pumped his fingers into you while his tongue lapped at your juices.  He moaned around your mound, your thighs quivering around his head as your orgasm washed over your; a cry ripping from your throat.  

By the time you had come down from your high, Chris was rolling a condom over his erect member. He paused above you on strong forearms as his lips connected with yours.  Your tongues danced together and you could taste yourself on him.  

Trying your best, you opened your legs for him, wrapping your right leg around his backside as he sunk into you slowly.  He filled you up and you reveled at the feeling of being so full.  You had never had someone as large and thick as Chris before and it felt amazing.  

His thrusts were soft and delicate, slow and tortuous as the two of you kissed.  But you wanted more as you had fantasized about being with Chris for way too long.  

Using your right leg to push him deeper into you, you growled out, “faster…harder.”  His own growl resonated throughout the room as his hips drove into you with force.  

“Fuck you feel so good baby,” he cooed, biting your ear and you wished you could do more, but you were too immobile with your damn leg cast.  

Your hands scratched down his back, leaving marks as you met his thrusts with yours as best as you could. His tip hit a particularly special spot inside of you, making you clench around him and he moaned in pleasure. You loved the noises he was making and you made sure to store them into your memory for future use; just in case this was never going to happen again.

That familiar tightening in your belly began and you knew you were close and you could sense Chris’ high beginning as well.  His thrusts became sloppier as he slowed down for a minute.  

“I want you to come with me Y/N.  I want to feel your pussy milking me.  Can you do that for me?” he demanded, eyes nearly black with lust as he looked longingly into your own eyes.  

“Yes,” you cried out as he drove a deep thrust into you.  

“Good girl,” he replied and you nearly came from that praise alone.  

He positioned himself on his knees as he was still locked inside of you; his hands at your hips as he began to thrust into you yet again.  His right thumb came about your clit, pushing down and moving in a circular motion and you didn’t know how long you could last as you felt your body begin to tense up.  

“Come Y/N,” he growled out. “Come with me NOW.”  His voice and demand was all it took to send you over the edge; profanities mixed with his name came tumbling from your lips as you clenched around him; your body going rigid.  

Chris’ hips thrust a few more times before he stilled altogether.  As you were still reeling from our high, you felt his cock twitching inside of you and you wished at this point he wasn’t’ wearing a condom; you wanted to feel him freely.  

He pulled out of you, making you whimper at the loss and he collapsed next to you on the bed.  The two of you were a panting mess; your bodies sheen with sweat and you laid a hand over your chest.

Closing your eyes, you smiled to yourself, catching your breath.  Feeling the bed move beside you, you saw Chris get up and head into the bathroom to take the condom off.  At this point you didn’t even care if this was a one-time thing.  You’d die happy to have your fantasy of having sex with Chris come true.  

He came back out of the bathroom and you figured he would go back to his own room.  Instead, he got back into bed with you and pulled you closer to him.  Your head rested on his chest and you could hear his heart beating strong.  

Chris placed a kiss on your head and you hummed in appreciation.  “That was amazing,” you warmly said, placing a hand on his exposed chest.  

He chuckled at your words, making the bed shake.  “Good.  Because there’s more where that came from.”  

Tag List: @badassbaker @guera31 @tanelle83 @xjjlex @chrisevansfanfic @princess-evans-addict @joannie95 @pumbibaby @patzammit @brastrangled @mrs-captain-evans @notyourtypicalrose @sfreeborn @esoltis280 @xxloki81xx @bornfortherainydays @poerebel @livslookingforloki @raveviolet @southerngracela @the-wayward-robot @scuzmunkie @cinna-minseok

[mitsybubbles]

Re: my disabled courier! He has chronic migraines and body tremors/tics after being shot by Benny but is eventually able to afford to go to the New Vegas medical center run by that woman whose name currently escapes me for implants that help mitigate those unless he’s rlly exhausted or injured. And following the Sierra Madre I think he probably uses crutches and occasionally a really bare bones prosthetic, but eventually in the Big Empty he’s able to get fitted w a rlly swanky bionic prosthetic thing?? It’s an amputation just below the knee and I’m kinda thinking it would once again require a brain implant to like read the signals his brain sends to the muscles when he wants to move so it’s p seamless (but idk much about super modern prosthesis so I’ll have to research it). I’m not actually going to do this but I do think the comedy potential of it having an AI personality like the stealth suit is fun to consider.

!!!! That sounds super cool anon!!! :D I like how he constantly has migraines and tremors from the shot - do they just come and go or are they triggered by anything like sensory overloads or overexertion? It’s really cool to see how the gunshot wound affects him- I love seeing stuff like that it’s neat. ^^

Lol, Arcade has an above knee amputation and also uses crutches and a simple prosthetic. And ooh!! That’s really cool that your courier gets a nicer prosthetic from the Big MT! Does the think tank (or another AI) give it to him? Does he need to take time to get used to it? Speaking of the prosthetic, if I were you I’d maybe look into nerve interface tech? I think that’s what it’s called lol. Also think about how the prosthetic would move and if it breaks and stuff! It’s the little things that flesh it out as a piece of tech. Also ghjgfdjh talking ai leg, that sounds like smth the think tank would do to it just for the sake of it gjhgfj.

Your courier is really awesome I love him ^^ thanks for sharing more about him anon! <3

[what-stop-the-presses-rly-means]

Bye, Bye, Sugar Blue Eyes part 7

Race x female reader modern au

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: This chapter is super long. Idk if that’s a bad thing or not. Either way, I apologize

_________________

The holiday fever had spread throughout the home in no time. You couldn’t find a room that wasn’t completely decked out, and the boys were in such high spirits. And when I say “boys” I just mean the young ones. It seemed as if everyone on staff was constantly on the go. Albert was always in the kitchen making these grand meals that I didn’t know we had the budget for. Davey was doubling as an accountant now that he was on break from being a teacher, trying to calculate how much it would cost them in presents this year. I hardly ever saw Jack. I have no idea what he’s been up to. And Race was holed up in his office with a constant cycle of boys filing in and out throughout the day, in need of reassurance.

I was told that this can be a tough time for some of them. What with their classmates talking about seeing their families during vacation, coupled with seeing the happy families in the Christmas movies they’ve been watching. This can be such a happy time of year, but for some, it can be a reminder of what they don’t have but so desperately wished for. It was heartbreaking to think about.

When I had gone upstairs to vacuum, I saw two of the younger boys, Theodore and Eli, lying on the floor in the hallway, paper strewn about. I sat down next to them.

“What’re you guys doing?”

“Writing our letters to Santa,” Eli said, holding out his paper to examine it. With a satisfied smile, he folded it up and placed it into in envelope.

“That sounds like fun. What are you asking for this year?”

“Parents,” Theodore said simply.

My eyes widened. “O-Oh?” He nodded.

“Yeah, we want to get adopted. Plus, this way, the elves don’t have to make any extra toys. We can give them a little break this year.” He looked so pleased with their idea.

“Well, that’s very thoughtful of you two. But… I don’t think Santa has that kind of power, kiddo.”

“But we’re gonna try,” Eli said with a determined nod. “We’re used to not getting many toys anyway. And this is what we really want, so we might as well ask.” I didn’t know what to say. I could feel the tears starting to well up.

“Listen, when you guys do get adopted, it’s gonna be because the people that come through that door one day are gonna take one look at you and fall in love. You don’t need Santa’s magic for that. Just be your wonderful selves and you’ll be adopted in no time.” I forced a smile and got up. I walked over to the broom closet, listening to them run downstairs with their letters, and quickly stepped inside. I pressed my back against the closed door and clasped my hand over my mouth, stifling the sobs I couldn’t contain.

---

It was starting to feel like a zoo around here with the constant flow of people. Not only were the boys out of school, but it was like the doorbell was always ringing. I learned where our budget came from. This time of year charitable citizens and organizations were donating anything under the sun. We got bags of food and toys, and sometimes people wrote us checks. It was amazing seeing people come together with such kindness. I also learned what Jack has been up to, signing papers, drawing up documents, greeting and thanking volunteers. This was also the time of year more people are apt to adopt, so he was arranging meetings. Maybe those boys will get adopted after all.

But the biggest surprise guest we had arrived two days before Christmas. I was in the living room when I heard the door open. Since the doorbell hadn’t rung, I assumed it was one of the guys. Well, I was partially right.

“What? Is no one gonna greet me? I traveled a long way, ya know!” I could hear a couple gasps and shouts before I could see who it was. The foyer was filled by the time I reached it.

“Crutchie!”

“We missed you!”

“What’d you bring us?”

“Now, now, give the guy some room. He’s not much taller’n the rest of you, so you might crush him!” Jack made his way through the group and hugged the man tightly.

“Good to see ya, man. How was your flight?”

“Oh, it was fine. My tiny, petite body fit in the storage compartment, so I got a great deal,” he said mockingly. That made me laugh. He looked over to me.

“Oh, and is this the new lady-person who’s been keepin’ you all in line?” He smiled brightly.

“Something like that.” I reached my hand out. “(Y/N). And you must be Charles.”

His brows furrowed. “Oh, are we all formal now?” he laughed. “It’s Crutchie, ma’am.” He tipped his hat dramatically.

“But you don’t have a crutch,” I teased.

“Yeah, and Racetrack ain’t that fast. They’re just the nicknames that stuck.”

“Touché.”

“I could still kick your sorry ass in a footrace.” We all turned and saw Race come out of his office. Crutchie smirked.

“Only ‘cause I got this bad boy.” He leaned on the wall and lifted his pantleg to show off his prosthetic. A couple of the boys got squeamish and left the room. Race laughed.

“You got me there.” The two smiled cheekily at each other before Race gave him a big bear hug. I grabbed his bags.

“I’ll take your things up to one of the guest rooms.”

“Well, a gentleman would never let a lady do all the work. I’ve got them.” I gave him an unimpressed look and Jack let out a low whistle.

“Careful, Crutch, she might break the other leg.”

Crutchie laughed. “Okay then, how ‘bout I help with the bags?” I nodded and handed one to him and started for the stairs.

“Dinner’s in fifteen!” Jack called after us. We walked in silence until we got to the end of the hall. I went into my room to get a key to unlock the unused room when I heard him chuckle from behind me.

“You and Race’s rooms are across from each other?” I paused, looking between the doors.

“Uh, yeah. I was given this room on my first day.” I opened the door and took his bag inside. He plops down on the bed and pats the spot next to him, indicating he wanted me to sit with him. I look at him curiously but comply.

“So I’ve heard you’ve been getting on really well around here.”

“Yeah… Is this an interrogation? Like what big brothers do to new boyfriends in the movies? Are you gonna tell me that if I break their hearts you’ll kill me?” Crutchie laughed.

“I like you. No, that’s not what this is. But I don’t see you ever breaking any of their hearts anytime soon, so it’s not a problem. I just wanted to talk for a bit. I keep in touch with the guys, Jack mostly, and he’s told me a bit about you. Including some interesting things.”

“Should I be scared?”

“Nah, he’s just been saying how quickly you and Race have gotten close, is all.”

“Well, yeah. We share a lot of responsibilities around here so we spend a lot of time together. And he’s just such a friendly, charismatic guy. He’s easy to get along with.” Crutchie nodded, listening intently. I didn’t know if I was supposed to keep talking so I did. “We have a lot in common and we both care about the work we do around here.” Still, Crutchie said nothing, just nodded. “Okay, now it’s starting to feel like an interrogation,” I laughed. He put his hands up in defense.

“Hey, I was just wondering what’s been going on in my absence. This time last year things seemed to be a little hectic, so I’m glad they’ve got some extra help… And I’m glad Race had another person he was able to open up to. If anything, I’d like to thank you for that. He’s a charming guy, willing to talk to anyone, but it takes special people to get him to talk about his past. That’s how I knew you we could trust you.”

“He’s a special guy. Damn near perfect if you ask me. So what if he has a sordid past and some demons he’s dealing with. That doesn’t define a person. It’s how you handle those situations that shows your true character. From what I’ve heard you’ve all got memories you wish you could erase. But you can’t change the past; you can only handle the here and now. And all of you are devoting your lives to helping others. So that makes you all good people in my book.” He blinked at me a couple times.

“So Jack wasn’t exaggerating when he described you. Damn. You could give the other guys a run for their money in the speech-giving department.”

I looked down sheepishly. “So I’ve been told.”

“But seriously, I’m really glad that you’re here. The place hasn’t looked this put together since I don’t know when. And Race needs to talk to someone who isn’t just Albert. It’s nice to be able to share the burden, as it were. Ever since we were kids, he’s always been looking out for everyone else. Part of it was because he didn’t want others, especially the younger kids, to have to go through what he went through. But I think part of it was also because he needed a distraction. If he was tending to the other boys that gave him less time to worry about what had happened, and what was going to happen to him. Obviously it all worked out in the end, but even today he keeps himself busy. And now he’s got even more bad memories to run from, what with his old man gone.” He looked up at me. “Just keep an eye on him, would ya? Make sure he doesn’t start to spiral. It sounds like he’d listen to you.”

I smiled at him. “I’ve been doing that since I met him. And I promise I’ll continue to do so. He means a lot to me, too, you know.” He smiled and placed his hand on my shoulder in a comforting manner.

“DINNER!” Jack yelled up the stairs.

“Thank god, I’m starving!” He hopped off the bed and I followed.

---

Over the next couple days we all settled into the holiday spirit. Davey and one of the boys, Luke, lit the Menorah each night and taught everyone the history of Hanukkah. Some of the younger boys helped Albert make cookies to leave out for Santa. And every night we all watched a different Christmas movie. The boys just adored Crutchie and were constantly crowding around him to hear what he had been up to all year. Apparently the community center he works at raised enough money to send him and all the kids he worked with to Florida and they spent a lot of time at the beach. For some of the kids, it had been their first time in the water. It was nice hearing about how much he changed their lives.

On Christmas Eve I was standing in the hallway, dusting and humming to some Christmas song that had been in my head all day, when I ran into Race. Well, more like Race was pushed into me by a not-too-innocent looking Crutchie who just walked past, whistling nonchalantly. I grabbed Race by the arms, making sure he didn’t fall.

“Hi there.”

“Hey. Sorry about that. He said he had something to show me and had me follow him here, and then he just pushed me. I don’t know wh-“ I looked at him curiously. He was staring at the ceiling, his cheeks a little flushed. I followed his gaze and, lo and behold, there was mistletoe hanging right above our heads.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He looked at me. “We don’t have to. This was Crutchie’s fault. And, anyway, that’s basically cheating. You have to accidentally meet underneath it-“

I put my hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the look of surprise on his face.

“Oh, okay.” He cleared his throat and started to lean in when the doorbell rang. We jumped apart like we had been caught.

“I should, um, get that.” I all but ran to the door and opened it. Two well-dressed women with friendly smiles stood on the other side.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“Yes, we had talked to a man by the name of ‘Jack’ on the phone. He said to stop by.”

“Of course, come in!”

“Thank you. I’m Delilah and this is my wife, Jodi.” I shook their hands.

“(Y/N). Nice to meet you. Jack’s right through that door.” Once they disappeared into the office I turned around to see a group of boys who had watched us the whole time.

“You know who they were, right?” Henri asked.

“Um, no. Who?”

“Parents looking to adopt!” Gus shouted in excitement.

“Really?”

“Yeah, this time of year people are more likely to adopt due to the holidays and the desire to have a family, coupled with ‘rich person guilt’ so they feel the need to give back,” Henri clarified, sounding way too astute for a fourteen year old.

“Well that’s great, isn’t it?”

“It depends on who they choose.” The boys all dispersed, looking a mix of excited and worried. I tried to will myself to stay positive. This was a good thing! One of them is going to have his life changed for the better!

---

That night, after we watched our movie and made sure the cookies were set out where Santa could find them, I sent everyone upstairs to get ready for bed. After a while I went up to say goodnight. But before I could open the younger boys’ door, I stopped and listened.

“Please let one of us get adopted by the nice ladies who were here earlier. We don’t care which one; just make sure whoever is lucky enough gets a good home and a nice family.”

“And a dog!”

“And a pool!”

“Shut up, guys! Please, maybe let it be one of the older boys. They’ve been here a lot longer than us and they deserve it. Amen.” I covered my mouth with my hand, hoping they wouldn’t hear me, and walked over to the other boys’ door.

“It’s kind of cool that they’re actually talking about adoption. We haven’t had anyone here in a while.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. You know they’re gonna pick one of the little ones. They always do.” I don’t know how many times my heart can break over the course of a couple days, but it seems to be going for the record. I sighed and went about our nightly routine.

---

I was awoken the next morning by someone landing on top of me.

“Oof! What the hell?”

“Get up! It’s Christmas!”

“Race?” I pushed my hair out of my face and saw him smiling brightly. I glanced out the window. “The sun’s not even up yet.”

“Well, yeah. You’re supposed to wake up before the sun on Christmas! It takes too long to get up!” He jumped up and down a bit, making my bed shake.

“Are any of the boys even up yet?”

“They’re already all downstairs. I was sent to come get you.” I blinked twice before pulling the blanket over my head.

“Sorry. Not in the job description.” That made him laugh. I had barely just closed my eyes again when I felt him climb under the covers with me.

“Get up or I’ll stick my cold feet against your legs.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You wouldn’t d- Ah!” He had already done it.

“Well, well. What’s going on, guys?” We both turned towards the door and saw Crutchie standing there with a shit-eating grin on his face. “The boys sent me up here to see what was taking so long. They’re getting pretty impatient. But you two look so comfy, I might have to tell them to wait.”

“No! I’m up. I’m coming.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are-“ I threw my pillow at him as I got into my robe, and then we all went downstairs.

The day was fairly mellow. All the boys opened their presents: mostly clothes and generic toys, but they were excited all the same. Afterward they all wanted to play outside and it was finally quiet for once. Jack tossed an envelope into my lap and kissed the top of my head.

“Merry Christmas, from all of us.” I opened it to find a card they had made and everyone, including the boys signed, along with a Christmas bonus check. I started to tear up.

“It’s not much,” Davey said, “But we knew we had to do something for the woman who has changed us all for the better.”

“Thank you so much, guys.”

It’s funny, after all the hectic days leading up to today, it was smooth sailing. We all ate together and sang Christmas carols before I left to be with my family for the rest of the day. Everything was perfect. For now.

The next day I saw the women from before getting a tour of the home by Jack. I didn’t want to disturb them so I went about cleaning, keeping my head down. This seemed to work for about an hour. When I walked past the dining room I stopped in my tracks. The couple was sitting at the table with Peter. I was frozen in place. I was so excited to hear they were looking to adopt that I didn’t stop to think who it might be.

“Hey, doll, whatcha lookin’ at?” Race stopped behind me, peering in as well. “Oh no…”

I could feel the tears coming as I struggled to breathe. What was happening to me? I needed to get a handle on my emotions!

Before I knew what was happening (and before I could make a scene), Race gently ushered me out of the room. We went upstairs and eventually made it out onto the roof. He wrapped a jacket I hadn’t known he grabbed around my shoulders and pulled me into a hug.

“I figured you would want some privacy. Sorry about the cold.” He tucked my head under his chin. I let out a shaky breath.

“What’s wrong with me? I cry because they don’t get adopted, and I cry when they do. I don’t know what I want.”

Race let out a sigh. “I wish I could tell you it gets easier, Sugar, I really do. But in my experience it hurts every time. It’s not easy watching people go, especially those boys, but we’ve gotta look on the bright side. Every boy that gets adopted gets a brand new family all their own. And a new home and new experiences. Everything these kids deserve: to grow up in a loving environment that can give them all the special attention they need.”

“We give them love and attention here,” I said childishly. Race laughed lightly at that.

“Very true. But you and I both know it’s not enough. They need a normal childhood.”

I sighed and nodded my head. “But why does it have to be my Sweet Pea?”

“You know more than anyone that he’s a terrific kid. So it’s no wonder why anyone would want to adopt him. Now it’s time for more people to see how great he is, don’tcha think?”

I huffed, looking up at him. “I don’t come to you for logic and reasoning, you know. I just want you to tell me everything’s gonna be okay.”

He smiled brightly before kissing the top of my head and hugging me again.

“Everything’s gonna be okay.” We positioned ourselves so I was facing the skyline he was looking at, still in his arms. “It’s not like we might never see him again. In the past, some of the boys come back for visits. Whether it be for holidays or if they just happen to be in town. And if we don’t see them… at least we can rest easy, knowing they’re being cared for.”

I couldn’t help the little sob that escaped as I tried to stop the tears. “Deep down I know that. I know we have to be professional about all of this and send them off with hugs and smiles. But, I don’t know, I’m a little selfish, I guess. Those are my boys. I just got them, I can’t let them go.” I turned back and saw that his eyes seemed even brighter now that they were a little misty as well. He stared back at me with such intensity that I had to turn back around. And it was silent for a little while.

“You know,” he said quietly, “Since I’ve been back, the guys have been bombarding me with stories and little facts about you.” He held me a little tighter. “They always had such good things to say and they couldn’t stop gushing about how ‘perfect’ we were for each other.” My breath hitched a bit. “Even Crutchie agrees. After just one conversation with you, he was convinced we’d be married by this time next year,” he chuckled. “Their reasoning? Because both of us care so deeply for the boys. That we are so compassionate and kind, to the point that it almost sickens them. And we make a pretty damn good team, according to them. But that part was obvious.” He paused. “At first I just scoffed at them. I assumed they were trying to play matchmaker and cheer me up after being gone so long. I figured they were just trying to set us up because we have similar jobs and are both single so I always brushed them off.” Another pause. “But once I started getting to know you better and saw you interact with the boys and how well you fit in with my friends so quickly… I-I don’t know. I guess I couldn’t deny it anymore. It was almost too good to be true.”

“What are you saying?” I still didn’t turn around. I couldn’t look in those eyes right now. I might stumble and fall right off this roof.

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know, exactly. I don’t know what all I’m feeling; it’s a bit much. But here’s what I do know: You’re an amazing woman who I enjoy spending time with. When I talk to you I feel like I can let it all out and you won’t judge me. You listen and you always know the right thing to say back. When we first met you told me I was a good person and a role model to the boys. But now, at the risk of sounding like a parrot or broken record or something, I have to say you are as well. I’ve never seen the boys open up to someone so easily before. You make them feel safe and loved, and you help them reach their full potential. The guys weren’t wrong when they told me you’ve been doing a phenomenal job around here. And I’ve been lucky enough to see it firsthand. You just have such a magnetic personality, and maybe this is just wishful thinking on my part. You could have anyone you set your sites on, I’m sure of it. But… I don’t know. I feel like, somehow, this was supposed to happen.” I finally turned around, our faces incredibly close.

He took another deep breath. “Do you believe in fate?” he asked, repeating my words from what seemed like forever ago. We shared a smile.

“Ask me again after something remarkable happens.” He gently lifted my chin, his eyes darting from mine to my mouth and back. Then he pulled me closer, pressing his lips to mine. I immediately wrapped my arms around his neck as he held my face close in a firm yet gentle grip. When we pulled apart we were breathing pretty heavily, little white clouds forming between us in the cold air. And when we rested our heads together and looked into each others’ eyes Race let out a little uncharacteristic giggle.

“So I ask you again: Do you believe in fate?”

“Pretty bold of you to assume that was considered remarkable…” I said cheekily.

“Well, I’m fully prepared to keep practicing until I get it right.” I lightly slapped his arm.

“Real smooth, Race.” When he didn’t laugh with me, but instead grew quiet, I got worried. “Race?”

“Anthony. Call me Anthony. Ya know, when we’re away from the boys. None of them know my real name and I’d kinda like to keep it that way.” My eyes widened in shock. I was so touched that he would share that kind of information with me, but I was also pretty confused.

“Why-“

“It’s stupid, really. When we were younger I was the one to come up with the ‘gang name’ tradition. It was for any of those who wanted to start fresh. Anyone who didn’t want a name that was attached to their awful past. Some of them jumped on board right away, and others, like Jack and Albert, decided they couldn’t part with theirs. Which was totally fine. I just wanted to help the one’s who needed it. And now, I guess I want to keep up that façade that I’m a brand new person compared to younger me. That I’ve completely moved on. Which I have, for the most part. But I can’t help that I’m still haunted by my past every now and then. I guess I just have this notion that if I stay “Race” to those boys, then I’ll always be that strong force in their lives that keeps them going. Like I said, it’s kinda stupid.”

I grabbed his hand. “It’s not stupid, Anthony. You’re only human.” He stared at me.

“God, I love hearing that if it’s coming from you.” I smiled. “But it’s still fun coming up with the nicknames. You know what yours would be?” He grabbed my other hand.

“What’s that?”

“Something along the lines of ‘Angel’ because that’s what you are. You swooped in and answered all of our prayers. Or at least mine.” I couldn’t help but blush at that. But before I could deny it, the door slams open, making us jump apart.

Jack walks out onto the roof, Crutchie in tow.

“You know, we gotta stop making this a habit. Me walking in on you guys when you’re being all cute and intimate. It’s like we’re part of a bad sitcom.”

“And whose fault is that?” Race says, running his hand through his hair, awkwardly.

Crutchie was excitedly jumping up and down, trying to look over Jack’s shoulder.

“What happened? Why are you both blushing? Were you guys just making out?” Race and I couldn’t help but stammer and blush even more. So Jack took pity on us.

“ANYWAY,” he spoke loudly over Crutchie’s laughter, “We came looking for you guys to tell you the interview is over and it went really well.” He looked over to me, warily. “Um, (Y/N), you should know-“

“I know. Thank you. It’s not gonna be easy, but I’ve made peace with it. Just…where do we go from here?”

“Well, we sit Peter down and talk to him about it. The boys are always given the final say. If he agrees, then we’ll have them come back, fill out all the paperwork, and that’s that.” That seemed so cold and calculated, like a business arrangement.

“H-How long?” I could feel Race put his arm around me, rubbing my back.

“Couple days.” I bit my lip to keep the tears at bay. I was done crying for one day.

“Okay, let’s go talk to him.”

Tag List:

@getchapapes

@technically-whizzy

@werkwerkelizaaa

@pulitzerpublishers

[cole-grey-writes]

Kiss Me Better

Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Timeline: Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier

Character(s): Sam Wilson

Pairing(s): Sam Wilson x Male Reader

Warning(s): swearing, completely inaccurate medical procedures because im not a doctor and 16 y/o

Summary: You were injured on a mission and in order to stave off infection, you have to get a shot...

OLD A/n from over a month ago: I got shots at the doctors probably a week ago (and I'm just now finishing this because frickin executive dysfunction kicked my ass). I don't have a bf/gf in real life to kiss me better, but I can always pretend with fanfiction. Enjoy

NEW A/n from right now: shit it’s been a long time huh? yeah, this was supposed to be uploaded over a month ago but for some reason I just... didn’t put it up. Idk, I think I was going through some shit so I wasn’t interested in anything at all and I was super unmotivated. Anyway, I finally got it up. Hope you all enjoy :)

“Sam!” you say his name with joy. The pain coursing through out your body isn’t enough to keep you from throwing your arms around your boyfriend as soon as he’s close enough to where you sit on the plain white bed in the SHIELD medbay.

You wrap your arms around him and squeeze as hard as you can without causing pain to shoot up your arms from your injuries. Sam returns the favor and hugs you close to his chest. You can’t help but wince when he unknowingly presses into a large bruise stretching across your stomach, but you don’t want the hug to end so you try to hide it. Sam obviously sees right through you and let’s go, although he doesn’t stop touching you. Sam’s hands rest on your arms gently, trying not to press on the bruises and cuts that are covered in bandages.

“Don’t ‘Sam’ me. You are an absolute moron,” Sam tells you, pointing a finger. Your mouth falls open in offense and try to say something but he interrupts you. “Did you think jumping in the line of fire was really your only option?”

“...Well, it seemed like the only option at the time.”

“Jesus,” Sam swears. “You are just as bad as Steve.”

“I am not nearly–”

“Don’t you dare try to deny it,” he tells you. He reaches up with his hand and shuts your mouth for you. “You know it's true,” Sam says it without judgement, like he knows how much people’s lives mean to you.

“Agent L/n,” SHIELD Doctor Vivienne Becker is suddenly standing next to you. She addresses you with a comfort as if talking with an old friend. Or maybe with exasperation of talking to an annoying younger sibling.

“Vivienne,” you greet back with a much lighter tone than her. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Dr. Becker says, “but you're covered in contusions, lacerations, and just had two bullets removed from your femur and scapula.”

You tense when you feel Sam shift next to you, feeling his gaze on the side of your face. You aren’t even looking at him and you just know that his eyebrows are raised in scorn. “Oh, so you were shot, too?”

“Uh.”

“Fortunately, there was no damage done to any vital organs or major arteries.”

“Well, at least that,” Sam mumbles.

“However,” Dr. Becker interrupts pointedly, “there was foreign residues found on the bullets that were designed to attract special bacteria.”

You sigh. “And now it’s in my blood.”

“Correct and we’ve figured out how to neutralize the effects, but…”

“‘But’?” you wonder, whining. “‘But’? No, why ‘but’, Vivienne?”

“But,” Dr. Becker continues, “the treatment is in the form of a syringe.”

You suddenly sit up straight. “A shot?!” you scream, eyes going wide.

“A shot?” Sam wonders completely cluelessly. “What’s wrong with a shot?”

“It is one shot and it will be injected into your right shoulder,” Dr. Becker informs you before walking away to let you wallow in self pity.

You groan and throw your head back because fucking goddamn it, this would be your luck. A shot right when you get back off the field.

“What’s wrong with a shot?” Sam wonders again. You sigh heavily and took at Sam with your eyebrows raised. He looks at you blankly for a few seconds before he breaks out into a smile. Sam aws at you, causing you to purse your lips. “Are you afraid of shots, baby?”

You click your tongue and say, “Sam,” while growing more annoyed with his sugar sweet smile.

You ignore him (whether it’s because you love him or because you have no idea how to respond to his question, you don’t know), deciding instead to work out some stress by looking at anything other than the needles that seemed to be everywhere you look now.

Sam actually has to reach over and stop you from wringing your hands dry. “Come one now, baby,” he untangles your hands and intertwines one of yours with his. You aren’t able to help just melting under his smooth and caring voice. “It’s just one shot, it won’t be that bad.”

You hum doubtfully, squinting your eyes at him but squeeze his hand harder. “I hate shots,” Sam nods understandingly. “Shots suck. Shots can go fuck–”

You don’t get a chance to finish your rant because Dr. Becker walks back over to you and wonders, “Are you ready?”

Taking a deep breath and releasing it, you squeeze Sam’s hand to reassure yourself. “I suppose,” Dr. Becker doesn’t say anything, turning to grab the syringe. You bite your lip to steal yourself.

“Hey,” Sam says softly. You look at him and he shows you your interlocked hands. “Here, you can squeeze my hand to help you through it.”

“You sure?” You crack a smile, feigning hesitation. “I might break your hand.”

Sam hums dismissively. “I’m sure I can bear it.”

Dr. Becker turns back to you with a syringe in her hand. You tense at the sight of it but Sam moves closer, the warmth of Sam’s body on your leg enough for you to let go of your lip.

Dr. Becker pinches your arm and starts to inject you. Your face contorts and you wince in pain. While you’ve been punched, kicked, stabbed, and shot many times, it doesn’t make this any easier. You have to squeeze Sam’s hand as hard as your weakened state allows you. And it may be a bit of an ego boost but Sam winces from your grip.

In reality, it only takes about ten seconds but to you, it feels like a lifetime before Dr. Becker pulls the needle out. “Alright, all done,” she tells you, putting a bandaid where the dot of blood is. “The medicine should take effect immediately, so you need to rest up as much as possible. You can get your crutches from Nurse van Wieren when you’re ready,” she tells you and then leaves.

You look up at Sam to see him with a small smile on his face, looking back at you. “What?”

“Now, was that so bad?” he asks you.

“Yes,” you conclude firmly. You watch Sam try to hold back his smile, but failing miserably. You click your tongue at him, half heartedly hitting him in the chest. “I’m serious. Feels like a rod going through my arm.”

Sam chuckles but says, “Sorry, it’s just…” Sam shrugs. “I didn’t know that about you.”

He says it warmly. It reminds you of the first time you two had met almost a year ago when Sam had tested your name on his tongue right in the middle of HYDRA 2.0. You and Sam exchanged phone numbers right after the whole mess had been cleaned up.

“You know now,” you tell him. “So what?”

Sam shakes his head. “So nothing. I like learning new things about you, even almost a year into our relationship,” and isn’t that the sweetest goddamn thing? You are the luckiest guy in the world. Sam’s tone goes comically serious. “No, seriously… you want me to kiss it better?”

“Shut up,” You blush. “And help me down,” Sam smiles, holding out his arms for you to grab. You put a hand on his shoulder, balancing yourself. Wincing as you shimmy your way off the bed, you favor the leg that didn’t have a bullet in it.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, “thank you.”

“It’s no problem, baby,” Sam coos while gripping onto you. “And be prepared because I’ve got a special dinner waiting for you when we get home.”

You snort and scrunch your nose. “Dinner? It’s 10 o’clock.”

“Then, it’s a midnight snack,” Sam tells you sassily.

“It’s not midnight, either.”

“Humor me.”

You sigh. “Fine, it’s a late dinner snack.”

“Alright, then,” Sam concedes. “Let’s go.”

Nurse van Wieren hands you your crutches as you and Sam leave the medbay. You smile and thank him before he walks away.

Sam’s words finally hit you as you get into the hallway. “Wait, waiting for me? How did you know I was coming home today?” you question, grabbing your boyfriend’s attention. You watch as Sam’s face begins to flush. You squeal. “Oh my god! Did you make SHIELD tell you where I was?”

Sam doesn’t respond for a few seconds before, “...Maybe.”

“Aw,” you coo, causing Sam to scoff.

“Yeah, don’t let it go to your ego, L/n.”

“No, but you have to tell me,” you tell him, stepping into the elevator before Sam does. You stand side by side, staring at each other with matching grins on your faces. “Is this special treatment reserved for me alone… or do you keep tabs on Steve and Nat, too?” as you expected, Sam doesn’t answer and you can’t hide your laugh. “That’s sweet,” you praise. “I might just have to tell Steve and Nat about it.”

“Don’t you dare!” Sam warns, though the smile on his face doesn’t disappear.

“I won’t, I won’t,” you agree without a second thought. “I know Steve would be indignant for about a week and who knows what the hell Nat would do to you,” you and Sam share a laugh, Sam’s gaze falling to the floor while you continue to stare at him because god, you love that deep, breathy laugh he does. You feel like you’re a goddamn king everytime you manage to get even a single giggle out of your boyfriend.

“Hey,” you say, grabbing Sam’s attention. He turns to you, looking extra adorable with his hands in his pockets and that tooth rotting smile on his face. “I think I might take you up on that offer to kiss me better.”

This causes Sam to hum smugly, his grin growing bigger and even more sugary. “Really?” Sam says slowly while he places his hands on your arms, rubbing up and down tenderly. He’s obviously being careful of your wounds. Noticing this single detail about Sam and how he is around you, you’re struck with how much you love this man standing in front of you.

Sam places a chaste kiss right over your bandaid before he rests his chin on your shoulder. “I love you,” he whispers against your skin. You feel your heart grow warm at his words.

“I love you, too,” you breath. “Now, let’s go home so you can kiss me better. And before dinner gets cold.”

(NOT MY GIF)

Main Blog // Other Side Blog

((NO ONE HAS MY PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE EVEN WITH CREDIT))

[races-erster]

just a vent

you all can ignore this if you want, and I’ll be putting the whole thing under the cut so it’s easier to skip over. It’s just I have too much to vent about for just 30 tags, so I used this instead...

I’m basically terrified of my entire life right now. Things have just gotten so bad and I don’t know what to do to get everything back on track. And I mean I’ve really gotten scared of everything.

I’m afraid to post original content on here for some reason. I guess I’m just worried that something will go wrong and I just,,,idk. I know this probably sonds stupid. I’m just scared that since I’ve been on a break, that people just kinda forgot about me or won’t care what I post anymore. Idk.

Band starts tomorrow too. I think I’m most afraid of that. After last season,,,I just don’t know. Everyone keeps telling me that I’ll be fine, but they just don’t understand what it’s like. I couldn’t walk for 6 months, and I know that isn’t as bad as other people have it, but it’s still terrifying to me. The longest that I hadn’t been able to walk before that was 2 weeks. It’s just scary. That entire situation lead to a decline in my physical, mental, and emotional health more than anything ever has before.

I have so many restrictions for band to the point where it’s ridiculous. I can’t run or jump. I can;t lunge or squat or get into a push up position. Hell, I can’t even stand on one leg or even speed walk. My doctor’s note literally says “must walk at a slow or moderate speed.” I can barely do anything. I’ll probably barely be able to march since the show opener’s tempo is 140 bpm. I just don't know what to do. I’m at a higher rate of getting hurt this year because you have more of a chance of injuring something if it’s already been hurt. My leg has been hurt 4 times out of 8 leg injuries total. And now it’s worse because I have CRPS, so I don’t have a pain tolerance and my nerves are sending jackshit to my brain (in terms of correct signals.)

Not to mention I lost all of my friends last year because whoever was near me or helped me throughout the season was made fun of because of it. I heard all sorts of rumors about me last year. Some were even said directly to my face rather than behind my back. 

I heard that I was ffacking because a sprained ankle didn’t take that long to heal:

(I tore my ligament all the way from my ankle to my knee. So yeah. That takes a while but still not 6 months.) 

Then I heard that I purposefully got hurt in order to get out of band:

(Here’s the thing. I did have a no running rule. But I thought it was over because I was cleared by doctors and physical therapy and my band director hadn’t really said anything about it, so I figured I could participate per usual. Apparently I was wrong. But even then, if I was to get hurt on purpose just to get out of band, why the hell would I even sign up for it? And then why would I try to fight through the pain during stretches until told by a section leader to sit down because my leg had already turned black and blue by the time stretches were over?  It makes no sense.)

Next I heard that I only got hurt so I could get attention:

(We’re back with that dumb “she got hurt on purpose” crap,,,no, I did not get hurt on purpose. No living soul would want to be on crutches for six months, have to hop their way down an entire football field or would want to do the same around a high school. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Also, I hate being the center of attention and having attention on me, so clearly the people who came up with that one don’t even know me.)

My favorite one though was that if I think I’m hurt, than I am and that I'm clinically insane because of it:

(This one hurt the most. It was started by one of my best friends and our section leader. My mom tried to explain to my section leader exactly what was wrong and how the bullying was making me want to quit marching band. He told my mom that he would take care of it, but when my mom told him that my nerves aren’t sending the right signals to my brain, her took that as “It’s all in her head.” Then he told everyone that and his girlfriend (my best friend) at the time started to say that I was insane and needed to be locked up in a nuthouse. I don’t know why they would do that to me…)

So yeah. I guess that’s why I’m so scared of starting band tomorrow. I don’t know who’s going to say what and I don’t know who already knows about my restriction or not. I just terrifies me that something is gonna happen again. 

I honestly think that may be why I’m still a little afraid to be on here and post my own stuff now: I don't want to be cast out again. I can’t be cast out again. I scares me so much when I know it probably shouldn’t. I know that you all are incredible people, but there are still those who leave hate when there was nothing done to provoke it.

And, god, I just remembered something that I really needed to vent about, but forgot until now and it’s not gonna really makes sense with what I just said, but in a way, it actually might?

So, a few months ago, I mentioned something about one of my friends asking me to prom, but he had been known to have a crush on me, so for the sake of this story, even though it has nothing to do with going to prom, I’ll be referring to him as Prom Boy.

So the Disney band trip was about a little over a month ago, and it was pretty fun, but of course it did have those moments. And unfortunately, those moments were caused by Prom Boy. He was in our group of friends that went around the parks together, and he was bearable most of the time. Or at least he was until my brother collapsed at the end of the day our second day there. My brother is okay now, but when we were trying to figure out what to do, Prom Boy said “There’s no point in us staying here, let’s just go.”

Now, listen, I tease my little brother a lot, but I’m also protective of him. So when this asshole told us all to just leave him and go back to the buses instead of wait with my brother, I naturally got pretty upset. I told him that if he wants to go back, he can, but I was going to stay with my brother. The rest of the group stayed with my brother and I while Prom Boy made his way back to the buses as he said, to save his “reputation.” *insert eyeroll here*

So we got my brother situated and made our way back to the hotel and all was good and dandy, until I woke up that morning. My brother had been in the hospital all night and was texting our Disney groups group chat saying that he was worried he wouldn’t get to march in the parade since we were doing it that day ( he made it in time by just 3 minutes.) Then as I kept reading, I saw a message from Prom Boy that said “dude stop being a baby who cares if you don’t get to be in the parade or not.” My brother and I have been going to Disney since he was 2 and I was 4, so for us, marching in that parade is a big deal because we’ve seen bands do that same thing since before we can even remember. I tried to explain the to Prom Boy, but he just didn’t care. Once again, he was the only one.

Two days later was when he started to be an ass to me and the rest of the group, not just my brother. He sent me into a breakdown and then an anxiety attack that day back to back. The breakdown was because he just kept deciding things for the entire group instead of consulting the rest of us. We were all supposed to eat at Margaritaville our last day in Florida with our big group of 14. They told us that we would have two separate tables in order to fit all of us, but they would be right next to each other. Then, we were lead to 2 tables that would hold 6 each and one table that would hold 2. We talked to management about fixing it, and they tried, but there was nothing they could do. That was okay. I was a little upset that we wouldn’t all be eating together, but it was okay and it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Then we were asked by the manager what we were planning on doing and without hesitation, Prom Boy said “we’re gonna eat somewhere else.” That doesn’t seem too bad, except we never talked or mentioned leaving and he just decided that based on what he wanted to do.

He got up and left before the 7 of us (the other 6 had already ordered) and he went to go find us a place to eat. We left and then I started to have a breakdown because he never took any of our thoughts into consideration and I had wanted the trip to be perfect, but everything just kept going wrong. So, the 7 of us went to eat at Hard Rock and we somehow picked up and either person from the band who wasn’t originally in out group. We were all waiting to order and I was still pretty upset, so I put my head down and just tried to block everything out for a little bit. When I felt okay enough to try to rejoin the conversation, I realized the group was taking bad about Prom Boy and how he manipulates everyone (true) and how he doesn’t understand the word “no” when it comes to the girls he hits on (also true.) 

So I finally look up, and, to my surprise, Prom Boy is standing there behind my friends ( so no one sees him other than me with his arms crossed. We didn;t tell him where we went to eat because we all needed a break and my phone had died. I was also way too shaky to hold my phone let alone text. So, there’s Prom Boy staring right at me. Or rather, there’s Prom Boy staring right at my boobs (he had been hitting on my for a year and a half even though he knew I had a boyfriend.) In about 5 seconds of seeing him standing there, I covered my face with my hands and I started to sob. I had a full on panic attack all because Prom Boy showed up, tracked us on the snapchat map, and was staring intently at my chest. My friends just thought I was still upset from the situation before, but they realized he was there. Prom Boy was demanding answers from everyone. Then, he tried to get me to explain what was going on, but I couldn’t breathe let alone talk. And it just made my attack worse. They finally got him to leave and my friend went off on him for trying to pressure me and for hitting on me nonstop to the point where I was afraid to be left alone with Prom Boy.

So, now, I can’t even hear Prom Boy’s name without having an anxiety attack, but the main reason why I just told that story is because he’ll be near me during the entire band season this year and then some, so I’m terrified of that. I’ve told my section that I can’t be near him and told them the story of what happened, but I’m just so terrified that he’s going to confront me or get near me. My friends said they’ll be there to stop them, but they’re usually on the other side of the field, whereas Prom Boy is right next to me.

So yeah. I’m terrified for tomorrow and I’m terrified of my life and there’s nothing I can really do about it because I’m ashamed to admit that this entire time I’ve been acting happy over the summer was just an act and that I’m just about as broken and depressed as I’ve ever been in my life.

Thanks if you took the time to read this. You really didn’t have to if you didn’t want to. This is still my only place to vent even if I am still a little wary about posting because I'm afraid to tell all of this to my family. I don’t want them to know. I haven’t even talked to my therapist about it because they just really wouldn’t understand. So yeah,,,

[villainousvillains]

Loki x Reader - Progress

Requested by Anon: “Hi! Can I️ submit a rec for like an injured reader? Idk I️ guess I’ll spit it out. Could you do reader with a blown out knee. Like ACL, MCL, and all that fun stuff and Loki like helps the reader recover. I’m going through some tough shit with that and I️ guess I️ just want to see it get put into words better than my own. Thanks love!! 💚💚”

A/N: Knee injuries suck. I hope this makes you feel better! A lot of what I wrote is from personal experience although obviously Loki wasn’t there. However, I do kind of remember him being around in the beginning when I was reading fanfiction and on a lot of painkillers.

“How are you feeling?”

I looked up and Loki and back down at my leg. I had it up on the couch, wrapped in a large ice pack.

“My knee hurts,” I said bluntly, looking back up at him.

“That’s to be expected,” Loki said with a sympathetic smile. “We should try to walk today.”

“Why,” I groaned, rolling my head back in dismay. I felt tears prick in my eyes. Every time I was slightly inconvenienced I wanted to burst out in tears. When I first got my bandages taken off, I bawled, looking at the stitches and my mangled leg. Maybe it was the drugs, maybe it was my desire to do nothing all the time, but I felt the need to cry constantly. It was annoying.

“Because,” Loki said, gently, taking the ice off my knee. He knelt down beside me. “The sooner you move, the sooner you are able to start other rehabilitation activities.”

“It hurts and I’m tired,” I stated, having no intention of moving. “And I want more medicine.”

“You definitely do not need more medicine.”

“My knee hurts and it’s supposed to stop it from hurting, so I think I do need more medicine,” I reasoned.

Loki shook his head and put a hand on my back to help me sit up, which I did, but not without long, pained groan. “Come on, stand up.”

I grabbed my crutches propped beside me, and Loki helped me stand up. I felt blood rush right to my knee, already causing it to swell up more. I set one crutch down so I could put a little pressure on my leg, and Loki stood beside me in case I needed extra support. Once I overcame my head rush, I was able to start moving ever so slowly.

“Remember, heel then toe,” Loki instructed. I nodded, remembering what my physical therapist had told me as I held onto Loki’s arm, worried my knee would give out any second.

. . . . . .

“I don’t need those,” I told Loki as he tried to hand my crutches to me.

“Yes, you do. We’re about to go walk in the city. It’s busy, and you could fall. What’s the one thing the therapist-”

“Yeah, I know, he said don’t fall, but he was joking. Obviously I shouldn’t fall, but I don’t think it’s that easy of a thing to do.”

“It is when it’s only been a few weeks after surgery and you’re nowhere near your regular strength and stability on one leg.” Loki didn’t put my crutches down, and I shook my head, not wanting to use them.

“I’ll be fine,” I said as I walked out of my room into the hallway.

“You can’t even walk normally, yet, you still aren’t straightening your leg when you-”

“I know!” I shouted. Loki clamped his mouth shut and set my crutches down back beside my bed. “I just… I want to walk on my own, okay?”

Loki nodded slowly, understanding. He followed me out, and when we made it to the city sidewalks, he guarded me from the mass of people rushing by us. But, I did all the walking on my own.

. . . . . .

“I forgot,” I muttered. I stared at the buttons on the treadmill, not wanting to hit the “start” button. “I forgot how to run.” I looked to Loki for guidance.

“You’re strong enough, don’t worry. Just start, and you’ll remember again.”

His voice was reassuring and exactly what I needed to hear. My heart beat hard in my chest, but I ignored it and pressed the start button. All I had to do was walk .5 miles and run .1 miles. Easy. Of course, I started with the walk. Finally, the run came around. I took a deep breath, and took my first leaping steps in months. I felt more awkward than I ever had before. I avoided looking at Loki until it was over, and with a heaving breath, I slowed down to a walk.

“Oh my god,” I breathed. “I felt like a stork who didn’t know how to use its legs.”

Loki chuckled, leaning against the railing of the treadmill, but he didn’t poke any fun. He looked at me in wonderment. “I’m so proud of you.”

. . . . . .

I sighed as I stood in the middle of the gym, staring at all of the equipment. Loki was late, but I didn’t care. I was so overwhelmed with positive emotions, I hardly knew what to do with myself.

I whipped around when I heard the door swing open behind me. I smiled when I saw Loki.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, looking a little frazzled. He rushed over to me and placed a quick kiss on my head, a wide smile on his face. “I was getting something.”

“It’s okay,” I said with a laugh. “What… um, what were you getting?”

Loki smiled and waved his arms, revealing tennis shoes. “I thought that since you’re finally cleared, you needed new workout things.”

I gasped and grabbed the shoes. “These are awesome!”

“I also got you… a water bottle,” Loki said, handing me a plastic bottle. I turned it around to see the design on the side. “It has an Avengers “A” on it, which I thought was a bit cheesy, but Thor thought you’d like it.”

“I do,” I said, unable to stop smiling.

“And, finally… here.” Loki held out a brace in my favorite color. “This one isn’t actually from me, it’s from Tony. I know you don’t like limitations, but you should really use this at least for a little while, and this one is so lightweight, you won’t even know it’s there-”

Loki stopped babbling as I attacked him with a hug. “Thank you,” I muttered, my voice muffled due to my face being pressed into his shoulder.

I had been cleared today, and for the first time, I actually looked forward to a full workout with contact and everything. I tried not to think about the first couple of days after surgery. They had been hell and really only made me sad, but also happy in a way. I had overcome so much, and soon I could be back to normal, maybe even better than normal.

I put my new shoes on, excited to break them in, and started to stretch out.

“I’m surprised you wanted me to get better so quickly,” I said. Loki looked at me in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d want me to kick your ass again so badly.”

Loki shook his head as a smile crept onto his face. “It’s good to have you back.”

TAGGED:

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[along-the-devils-backbone]

I hate my body

I hate it so fucking much. 

I hate how detached I feel from it. Owning this body, is like constantly babysitting an angry toddler that is never happy unless it's sleeping, and it's tantrums make you so fucking tired and exhausted, because you just don't know what the hell it wants anymore and you've tried everything, and you just want to hand it off to someone else and have a fucking break. 

Every test my doctors give me (blood tests, imaging tests, etc) all come back without an answer or a clue. Every medicine my insurance lets me actually have, does either nothing, or I find out I'm allergic to it (Hello Prednisone you complete asshole!). 

It hurts to sit. It hurts to stand. It hurts to walk. It hurts to lay down too long. I can't eat certain foods because they make me vomit, but the food that I don't vomit, is terrible for me and has nothing in terms of nutrition whatsoever. I'm constantly fighting the urge to throw up -- and when I AM able to hold down my food, my intestines decide to cramp like a motherfucker instead -- all while refusing me the ability to use the bathroom like a normal person. 

When I end up in the hospital because of it, they look at me like a drug addict -- like an asshole wasting their time. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and yes that hurts but it ALWAYS hurts and we don’t know why, but i’m here because of a DIFFERENT pain/problem that’s going to make everything even more difficult for you. No, i’m not making this up. No, i’m not a drug-addict, yes i’m sure. Yes i know I was in here last month around the same time, I swear to god it’s a coincidence, I didn’t plan this, i will do literally anything to convince you i’m not here for fucking vicodin and dilaudid, even if i have to walk out of here without the prescriptions i just want help... 

I'm so tired of not knowing. I'm tired of being brushed aside, and told to "just wait" to see if something will fix itself. It shouldn't be normal for me to wake up with my legs on fire and just... be used to it. Deal with the pain, because hey, at least it's just my legs and not my back... yet! 

When I do go to the doctor to ask for help, they make me answer these stupid questions about depression, because i've had it since i was fucking 9 -- and no matter how often I tell them that my depression is directly affected by my situation, they still act like prescribing me pills will make it all better. 

Zoloft isn't going to make the pain go away. Prozac isn't going to get me out of an abusive living arrangement. There is no pill in the damn world that is going to make my doctors understand what i'm going through and suddenly realize how to treat me -- and even if there was, my insurance wouldn't cover it anyway! 

I'm so sick of hurting. I'm so tired of being scared to death that there's something seriously wrong with me, and that i'm inching closer and closer to never being "fixed" -- that i'm going to spend the rest of my life in excruciating pain, hobbling around my house on crutches with a numb leg, and no idea why, while my doctor tells me to just "cheer up" and "remember to take your muscle relaxers!" (If my muscles get any more fucking relaxed, i'm not going to be able to swing at someone the next time they tell me it's all in my head -- but maybe that's the whole point...)

If i had something definitive, I could get help. If it WAS something bad, I could get a wheelchair, or a service dog, or financial aid... I could get some kind of treatment to help manage something, even if there's no cure... 

But instead, I get shrugs and waiting lists, and told "Idk it's PROBABLY fibromyalgia... but there's no cure for it, and nobody really knows much about it so... good luck! HAVE SOME MORE MUSCLE RELAXERS." 

I'm so desperate to get out of pain... I'm staring wistfully at listing on amazon of numbing sprays and creams that that might make the burning stop. I'm begging for heating pads and special pillows as holiday gifts because i just want to be comfortable. 

I've always been against the idea of using drugs and alcohol as coping mechanisms... but good god, i'm so fucking close to doing them just to get relief. 

Maybe if i did something stupid that made me lose weight, they'd stop looking at my weight as the problem (not that i could afford that kind of drug anyway). Maybe if I drank an entire bottle of vodka I could black out for a few days and forget about the pain? Maybe my friends could smuggle some weed from Colorado and make me something that could numb the fires of mordor that have taken up residence in my thighs... 

Maybe there's something out there, that will make it go away. Maybe not forever, but just long enough to let me gather up strength to keep going... 

because right now, I feel like a castle that's slowly being chipped away by an ongoing assault. We've run out of things to fight back with, and all we're left with is just the will to survive. We keep trying new things, but the assault never stops. There's never a moment to breathe, to rest, to think... it's just constant, ongoing, all hours of the day and night... and it's breaking us down. Eventually that breaking point is going to be reached, and shit is going to crumble and i'm fucking terrified... 

I need just one bit of hope... one fucking thing that tells me "Hey, here's a way to help. There IS a way past this." 

I just wish i could fucking find it... (and afford it...)