#pls im sick and im getting delirious

[messy-haired-bum]

Twin AU where if Cale is the fire, Kim is the salt.

Cale sets their enemies on fire, and Kim salts the earth and makes sure they stay dead.

People will call them: the 'Salt and Burn' duo 😎

[circus4apsycho8]

hey hey! i was wondering if i could maybe get a kai x reader oneshot where the reader is sick.

nothing serious or anything like that, just a cold that makes them slightly delirious and cling onto kai more than they usually do (aka they don't normally do it at all lol)

no pressure if you can't/don't want to do this, btw, i just thought it'd be cute tbh /gen /npa dw

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘! 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 :) 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!

clingy. | kai x reader

You tried to drag yourself out of bed. You really did, considering how much you hate skipping training. 

But today is different – the lopsided pressure in your head is making you dizzy when you try to stand. You’re able to lay back down before you lose your balance. 

Stars, your head is throbbing. Combined with your stuffy nose, sore throat...yeah. Absolutely icky. 

It takes a matter of seconds for you to give up any hope of getting up. Suddenly met with a cold chill, you pull your blanket closer to your chin. 

For a few minutes, you simply lay there, not wanting to move. You’re too achy to even think about standing. 

To no avail, you try to go back to sleep. But you just can’t. For a few minutes, you find yourself tossing and turning until a knock sounds at your door. 

“Huh?” you grunt, throat too sore for you to speak anything coherently. 

“Babe?”

Relief courses through you as Kai steps through, his warm eyes already darting across your bedridden figure. It doesn’t take him long to put the pieces together. 

He sits beside you, one of his hands coming to your cheek. “Oh no...you caught whatever funk Jay brought back, didn’t you?” 

You nod, pointing to your throat. 

“Your throat hurts? Damn. I’ll see if Sensei can make some of his sick tea. Here,” he trails off so he can unhook your phone from its charger, handing it over to you. “Text me until your throat feels better. Just tell me if you want anything to eat or anything, okay? I’ll be right back.” 

Thank the stars for this boy. You don’t know what you’d do without him. 

You immediately open your messaging app, thumbs zipping across the keyboard: 

You: can i pls have some medicine too 

You: i feel like i got hit by a truck 

Kai: u got it gorgeous 

Kai: sensei making tea rn, im bringing u medicine for now 

You: thank you sm 

Glad that he’s returning, you shut your phone off and set it on your chest as you close your eyes. 

Soon enough, Kai returns, bottle of water and medicine in hand along with his laptop cradled in his other arm. He sets it at the foot of the bed so that he can crack the bottle open. 

“Okay, can you sit up for me?” he questions, once again having a seat at the edge of your bed. 

You nod, shifting until you’re upright. Kai patiently waits for you to get comfortable, gently dumping two pills into your hands before giving you the bottle of water. “I know your throat hurts, but this will help lighten the nastiness up a little bit.” 

You down the pills with a gulp of water, cringing at the feeling of the pills sliding down your sore throat. 

“I know it hurts, babe, but it’ll help. Make sure you keep drinking water, too. You need to stay hydrated.” 

You nod, sighing through your stuffy nose. Kai climbs into bed next to you, reaching for the laptop. You open your phone again. 

You: don’t get close! I don’t want you to get sick too

Rather than sending it to him, you just turn the screen towards him so that he can read it. 

“Nah, I’m staying,” he replies. “I know it sucks to be alone when you’re sick. Besides, we haven’t had a whole lot of time together lately anyway. Let’s watch something, yeah?” 

You nod, understanding by the tone of his voice that his mind won’t be changed. 

“Great. So, what do you want to watch?” 

You type your answer out, followed by: 

But you get to pick the next one!! 

“Fine,” he replies with a chuckle. “Let me go check your tea first, though!” 

A hint of a smile appears on your lips as you watch him leave. How did you end up so lucky? 

While you wait for your boyfriend to return, you take another sip of water. The pain in your throat screeches in retaliation, though. Yeah, you should probably wait for the tea. Sensei Wu’s special tea always managed to help a little bit. 

Kai returns a few minutes later, your cup of tea in hand. He settles in next to you, handing you the mug. 

You sigh gratefully, taking a sip. The hot water does wonders to soothe your throat. 

“That’s better,” you mumble, leaning your head on Kai’s shoulder. “Thank you.” 

“Anything for you,” he replies, shooting you his adorably dumb smile. You can’t help but smile too, watching as he sets up the show and leans back. 

For a while, you simply lean against him, content that he’s staying with you for the time being. The warmth radiating from him wards the chilliness away, allowing you to flutter in and out of sleep as you rest. 

After your show ends, you feel Kai stirring from his spot beside you. You turn to him, watching as he starts to untangle himself from the sheets. 

You find yourself upset that he’s leaving, setting your mug to the side as you latch onto his arm. 

“Babe,” he coos, chuckling as he glances back down at you with those gorgeous amber eyes. “I’ll be right back, don’t worry.” 

“But I want you to stay...” you mumble shyly, not letting go. 

“It’ll be super quick. I’m just going to go grab a snack. And I can refill your mug, too!” 

You sigh, releasing his arm slightly. “Okay...thank you.” 

Kai presses a kiss to your forehead before climbing out of bed, a rush of cold air replacing his warmth. You reach over to your laptop so you can pause the video before laying your head back on your pillow. 

A few minutes pass, and you find yourself missing Kai. Why are you feeling so clingy today? Normally, you’re not like this, but for some reason, you just want to hide with him until you feel better. 

You grab your phone, sending him another text: 

kaiiiiiii 

where'd you go?? 

:( 

To your dismay, Kai doesn’t answer for a few minutes. Stars, why are you feeling so sensitive today? Is it just because being sick makes you feel vulnerable? 

Thankfully, Kai responds shortly after: 

im otw, sorry...got caught up talking to sensei 

He returns a few seconds later, now with snacks and a refilled mug of tea. “Sorry, Sensei was asking me a few questions. He’s letting me take the day off so I can take care of you.” 

“Good,” you croak, shifting around as he settles back in beside you. “I just...need you right now.” 

Kai smiles softly, pulling you against his chest as the two of you lean back. “You know...I hate that you’re sick, but at the same time...I kind of like this side of you.” 

“I don’t, but I can’t help it. When I get better, it’s straight back to the ass kicking. Yours included.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Kai jokes. 

You sigh, too tired to return the banter. “Thank you for staying, Kai.” 

“Anything for you, babe. Get some rest.” 

With that, your eyelids grow heavy as you snuggle up to him, eventually letting yourself sleep for the day. 

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚊𝚐𝚘 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗. 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘!

[ssreeder]

ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod it’s HAPPENING this is NOT a DRILL

anyways I’m in bed hacking up a lung and delirious on cough medicine, so this leekie reaction episode is brought to you by Rikodien, our sponser for this evening :D

saw the chapter title and instantly began mentally rubbing my hands together like a greedy little gremlin I’m so EXCITED

oh shit not the suicidal sokka era… man pls just *kachow* back together like an overstretched elastic band bc codependency is wayyyy better than this shit come on dude

okay but like… sokka taking on zuko characteristics due to zuko being out of commission was Not what I expected, and yet I cannot say it’s entirely surprising

“I’m fine” GIRL YOU ARE LITERALLY IN THE MIDST OF A MENTAL BREAKDOWN

“Sokka wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone” AANG. AANG. PLS I KNOW YOU WANT TO SEE THE GOOD IN OTHERS AND THAT YOURE A PACIFIST BUT. A A N G.

toph my bestie, the loml, an actual angel, yes INDEED why DOES sokka want to murder quon surely there’s a REASON

uh-oh.

not the zuko situation… rasu baby pls hold strong I Cannot have you being captured

aang. it’s times like these where I have to take deep breaths and remember you are 12 years old bc otherwise I will SCREAM

actually side note, but I would be really interested to hear 1. your feelings on iroh 2. your feelings on iroh IN THIS FIC, bc I personally am not a huge iroh fan for a multitude of reasons (sorry not sorry) so I wanna know how I’m supposed to read him in this universe (also just love hearing your thoughts and opinions but also no I don’t we’re divorced shut up)

thank GOD general how has some brain cells fr

suki is the real mvp of this chapter, she has the patience of the saint I honestly could never. FINALLY THE TRUTH YAYYYYY IM OH SO HAPPY TO HEAR SOKKA FINALLY TELL THE TRUTH

goddammit. why are they teenagers the emotions are just always so HIGH ugh I hate hormones. suki was doing so well ;-; (I don’t blame her or anything but DUDE COME ON)

aang and sokka friendship >>>>>

FUCKINF FINALY SOLKA IS GOONG TO ZUKEO OMGBG

ykw I’m just gonna leave those typos. I think they accurately convey my excitement.

sreedie. istg if pt 1 of the zukka reunion is sokka just WATCHING THROUGH A WINDOW IM GOING TO MURDER YOU

oh thank fuck he’s through the window. love you sreedie <3

not iroh just observing sokka go feral as a picture of absolute passivity lmao

okay I know this is a serious moment but I’m really enjoying the liab trivia night that sokka is hosting rn

I am actually,, extraordinarily pleased with how this chapter went. so uh.. no notes (ignore the several hundred words of notes above)

my heart was POUNDING and now I need to rest and recover. love ya sreeds <3

LEEKIE YOURE SICK?!?! (It’s been like almost two weeks so I hope you’re better) the audacity.

I think it’s hilarious how much of a reaction that title got heheeeee I’m funny.

Sokka spent 90% of RIA trying to get Zuko to stop doing what Sokka is spending 100% of ITF doing lol. It’s called progression damn it

Oh gosh my thoughts on Iroh? I don’t know where to start. I kind of want you to read Iroh how you want in this fic & see if you can figure out my feelings about the man from that? Hmmm? Call it… playing hard to get ;) ((just because we’re divorced doesn’t mean we can’t still play games))

Some people were mad at Suki for leaving after Sokka told her everything but seriously she is like what? 16??? Lied to & manipulated by someone she cared about & then told pfft there’s someone else. Nahhh girls allowed to have hurt feelings & she is allowed to want to bitch slap Sokka for that. (Just because Sokka is hurting doesn’t mean he gets to hurt others sorry buddddddyyy)

Hahaha Sokka did a really good job being there for Zuko but a terrible job keeping their closeness a secret haha: <3

LEEEEEKKKKKIIIEEEEE ok I don’t love you because you’re a lightbulb smashing ex wife but I do hope you’re feeling better & if now I’ll toss some soup through your window <3 (ok I still love you byyeeee)

[fixatedonfandom]

Mask Off

[I have a tf2 prompt I wanted to write but I don't have enough of them to make a prompt compilation so I figured I'd just write it here and hope everything goes well. I did the absolute most on the French so pls fix it if it's wrong]

BTW I HAVE SURGICALLY GRAFTED HUMAN EMOTIONS INTO EACH OF THE MERCS IN MY FICS SO THAT'S WHY THEY'RE 'like that' (normal). I have grafted double the amount of emotions into Spy as a treat.

Synop: Scout is sick. Really sick. 'If we can't get this fever under control it's the hospital or the morgue' sick, and Respawn can't help him this time. They'd already tried that. He's gotten so delirious he's fighting Medic every second he's awake, not really lucid enough to remember so much as his own name, much less that of any of the team. Medic is ready to put him under full sedation and try and work things out from there, but Spy has an idea.

~~~

"Hold his arms! Now!" Medic snapped, not knowing nor caring who listened. Demoman had been hovering near the bed, and latched onto Scout's wrists to pin him down before the thrashing began.

Scout was feverish, slurring out something incomprehensible, almost as angry as he was frightened, and was pushing up against Demoman’s hands with every ounce of fight he possessed. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t seeing, and nothing the Medic said or did could bring them around to focus.

”What’s now, doc?” Demoman barked. As Scout bucked against him, Demo laid down right on top of him, using his chest to keep Scout on the mattress.

Medic did not speak; he grabbed one of Scout’s arms and held it fast against the bed, then slapped the strap of a soft restraint around his wrist and yanked it tight. Demo fumbled for the one on the other side and did the same, and moved to Scout’s legs to keep him still. All the while, Scout was yelling out nonsense, interspersed with things that sounded like pleas.

“Jus-no, ge-get off! Get off me! Leave, no, please-” 

”You’re a’right, lad! You’re a’right, it’s Demo!” said Demo, with heaving breaths. “Demo? Scout, lad-”

“Ge-get- fuck- let-let me go!” Scout gasped in turn. His thrashing rattled the bed, only then being kept in place by the wheel locks, and he was straining his arms against the restraints hard enough to leave a bruise.

Medic was frazzled, composed as he may have looked. He’d almost made the decision to lunge for a syringe of sedative when Scout began to calm, by nothing but him exhausting himself, until his head lolled to the side and all that remained of the fit was mumbling and an occasional spasm.

Demo backed away from the bed, swiping a large hand down his face and clearing the accumulation of sweat from the rim of his eyepatch. “Tha’s a worse one. Didn’t say nothin’ compr’ensible.”

“Least he kept his hands to himself,” the Engineer cut in. He’d been sitting by Scout’s bedside in a creaky metal chair, and had one hand thumbing through a book of known ailments, and the other nursing a cold-compress- one of the few Medic could spare, given the circumstances -to a blossoming bruise on his jawbone.

When push came to shove, as it often did, Scout had a mean left-hook. He was so scrawny-looking that it was easy to forget.

“Not tha’ we gave ‘im much choice,” Demoman sighed. “I feel for th’lad. Cannae imagine wha’ he’s seein’. Wee lad’s prolly thinkin’ he’s fightin’ off ghoulies ‘n ‘his own personal hell.”

“That will be all, Demoman,” Medic sighed over him and ran his fingers, ungloved, through his hair. His black hair was dull, limp, and greasy-looking, and as unkempt as the man who wore it. Both had gone at least two days without a proper wash.

“Aye,” acquiesced Demoman, and picked up another ailments book to flip through with Engineer. Medic would have been doing the same if not for Scout needing spontaneous care. The Engineer and Demoman had offered to help him, overwhelmed as he was with keeping Scout’s fever down through the past two days and trying to find the source of the illness, and stayed in the infirmary with Medic.

Each RED team mercenary displayed his concern for Scout’s wellbeing in his own way.

Heavy had been one of Medic's assistants for the first day, but stepped away when the look of Scout in the throes of fever became too much for him. Too many memories, and none of them good. He spent his time researching for the doctor, much like Engineer and Demo. He'd also made a sandvich for when Scout wakes with an appetite, just in case.

Engineer and Demo needed to be useful, and stepped up on the first day to help. Engineer had no head for medicine and a piss-poor bedside manner, but he could read and research better than most anyone. He turned up to the lab, grabbed an armful of medical textbooks, dropped himself down in the chair besides Scout's bed, and remained there for two days straight. Demoman could comfort- he was a touchy-feely guy, and he was strong. When Scout first awoke two days into the fever and started fighting, Demo appointed himself to Scout's bedside to catch him when he flailed.

Soldier wasn't much for medicine work, and he hated the infirmary, but he became the one that everyone relied on for routine since theirs was so disrupted. He enforced breakfast and dinner like a drill sergeant, bringing food when Medic couldn't leave. In the absence of anyone else to talk to, he'd managed to clean the base spotless too.

Pyro drew pictures, and sent them in like clockwork. Doodles of the team, filled with colors, smiling scenery, and a healthy, happy Scout in the middle of each one. He didn't come by to visit. Knowing what Scout was acting like, he knew he might be too scary for him.

Sniper did what he did best- he kept his distance. Once or twice he came around to visit, but saw how overwhelmed everyone one was stayed out of the way. Somehow, though, the coffee pot in the kitchen never emptied, no matter how many cups were taken out of it, and the dishes were cleaned despite no one sticking around the kitchen long enough to do them.

Spy was different. To the outside eye his concern, if any, hadn’t manifested at all. He still smoked his cigarettes as though he had only a day left to live, and still holed himself up in invisible corners around the compound, only appearing when least desired. If RED were not a team, one could think him heartless and detached. 

They were, however, a team, and even the least observant among them had seen the signs of stress he carried. Spy’s aura was tense, and he carried himself with more urgency, when he was ever seen. If he was not in his smoking room, he was in the infirmary, watching, an unlit cigarette bitten between his teeth to satisfy the fixation but not disturb Scout’s breathing with smog. In the times between Scout’s waking bouts, he would step aside with Medic and ask questions regarding Scout’s health in hushed tones, like hiding his fears from prying ears. 

It was then, when Scout had settled into fitful sleep again, that Spy melted out of the shadow of the infirmary wall to approach Medic from behind, with his usual inquiries.

“Finally utilizing those restraints, I see,” Spy remarked, equally delicate and ironic. “How is the boy today?”

“Worse. Only getting worse,” replied Medic in a rough tone. He’d turned to his shelves of medicines and concoctions, shifting through the bottles and making them clink together. “Verdammt, where is it?”

Spy came around him and looked over Medic’s shoulder. “What are you looking for, my friend?”

“Fever reducer. I tried to give him one earlier.” Medic picked a bottle, read the German label, and set it behind him on his desk. “He spat it out.”

“Not surprised.”

“It was too weak, anyway,” Medic said. He paused in his rummaging to glance back at Spy, perhaps to see if he was listening. “I was a trauma surgeon. I have not treated sickness in many, many years.”

Spy’s cigarette had turned into soggy, unpleasant paper mache in his mouth, and the tobacco leaves had fallen out onto his tongue in bitter mush. He put the old cigarette in the bin near Medic’s desk, then pulled himself another.

“I hope you have some idea of what this illness could be, yes?” Spy ventured as he put the cig between his teeth. Medic sighed and did not meet his eyes, just shaking his head and whispering something. “Then how do you possibly plan to treat him?”

"I...I don't know. Verdammt, I do not know!" Medic admitted like he was spitting out a tooth. He clutched the sides of the cabinet doors, and the wood creaked under his hands. "He will not take fluids, he will not eat. If I cannot get him to calm down I will have to sedate him until he's not at the immediate risk of death. That alone poses its risks, but I would rather those than...this."

Spy glanced over his shoulder to trail his eyes down Scout's body, quivering and sweat-soaked, as he fitted in his sleep. "What kind of risks?" he asked.

Medic collected his thoughts and sighed again, a forceful huff through his nose, then replied, "Delirium. Worse than this. If his breathing continues to get worse he will have to be ventilated, which doubles the risks of prolonged sedation. Depending on how he processes the sedatives it could take him several days, maybe weeks, to recover. This is all assuming that I can fix him while he's unconscious, without having to resort to more intrusive methods."

Spy shifted his stance, his hands itching for the lighter in his coat pocket. He resisted it, naturally, but the urge was biting at the tips of his fingers.

"How would you suppose we get him to calm down, hm?" Spy asked.

"He does not recognize anyone or anything. If I could bring his fever down enough for him to regain some lucidity, that would help," Medic said. "As it stands, unless we can present him with something familiar, he will refuse to cooperate. Something his mind will recognize intrinsically, as confused as he is. He believes we are the enemy."

Spy hummed as his response, pretending to be distracted, and hesitated to consider the idea that had begun to brew in his head. "His mother, perhaps?"

Medic shook his head. "Nein. Not realistic. Even if we could get her to the state in a timely manner, by the time she’s gotten through the company's bureaucratic hoops to set foot on base, he might not be lucid enough for it to make any sort of difference. If I allow him to get to that point I may not be able to restore him."

“And if he does get to that point?”

Medic hesitated. He was given no chance to respond.

"Doc! Lad's comin' round."

They both turned. Demo was leaning over Scout's bed, hands primed to grab Scout's arms should he start thrashing again, and Scout was rousing slowly, turning his head, furrowing his face as he came to a no-doubt painful consciousness. 

“We have tried Respawn, and he came out just as sick as before. Respawn cannot save him,” Medic whispered to him, then turned once more to his shelves with his back to his patient.

“No…no, l-let me…s-stop,” Scout moaned out, already pressing up against his restraints and Demoman’s grip.

“Lad- lad, c’mon, stop- stop it!” Demo hissed back, straining to keep Scout on the bed while taking care not to frighten him with shouting. Demo tensed, with gritted teeth, as Scout started to cry.

“Pleas…please, please…l-let m’go… get- let me go!”

“No no no- aye, lad, c’mon. C’mon it’s me. It’s me, it’s Demo, lad.” Demoman leaned in close to Scout’s face. Scout reeled away as far as his head could press into the mattress, chest and shoulders still wracked with suppressed sobs. Even unconscious, Scout couldn’t let anyone see him cry.

“P-P-Papa,” Scout hiccuped. It could’ve almost been any other word, as slurred and warbled as it sounded, but to Spy’s ears it came as clear as the ringing of a church bell.

Spy’s thoughts left through his lips before he stopped to consider them properly.

"Everyone barring the doctor, please step outside," Spy announced. He approached Scout's bed, shooing Demo aside. "Now, would be ideal."

Demo stayed put with stubbornness and clear hesitation, and Engineer looked up to him confused. Medic fixed Spy with a curious look, but said nothing against him.

"Er, doc-"

"You heard the man." Medic was fixing another cold compress, distracted. "It seems Herr Spy will be taking over, Herr Demoman. Everyone, out!"

Scout winced, whimpering on the bed. Demo stepped back slowly and released Scout, though keeping his hand extended, but Spy shooed him again and he made for the door with the Engineer. Neither looked convinced they should leave, but did regardless, and Spy and Medic were the only lucid ones left in the infirmary.

"I should hope you have reason for disposing of my assistants-" began Medic, then cut off by Spy.

"I would prefer this be observed by as few as possible, doctor," said Spy. He slid off his leather gloves and set them on the metal side-table. "Should this even work."

At that moment Scout's eyes opened, glassy and damp, to the ceiling. Spy put his bare hand on Scout's forehead, expecting the flinch that came.

"No, no! Get...g-get off'me! J-Just-!" 

In a single, fluid swipe, Spy tugged his mask off of his head, and brought his face into Scout's line of sight before the struggling could begin. His salt-and-pepper hair was tousled and untidy, though obviously well-groomed, and his olive-toned jaw had a deep shadow indicating days of neglect. He startled Medic badly enough that Medic fumbled with the medicine cup and sent it splattering across the tile, but neither paid it much notice.

"Sois calme, mon lapin," Spy whispered in the most delicate voice he could use. "Sois calme."

Scout froze taut, staring wide-eyed at nothing but the ceiling tiles. Medic watched him, wrapping his prepared compress in a thick towel, and waited.

"P..." Scout murmured, unfocused. His eyes scanned the lines of Spy's face, sluggish, and a dull recognition lit up behind them. "Papa?"

Relief sent Spy slumping over the bed, closer to Scout, and he ran his hand through Scout’s sweat-damp, greasy brown hair. "Oui. I am here, Jeremy. I am here."

Scout said nothing, but his left hand tugged up against his restraints. He seemed surprised when his hand wouldn't move.

"Wh-wh’s…” Spy saw the panic building, and rubbed Scout’s scalp again.

“You are very sick, mon trésor,” Spy explained in simple words. His unoccupied hand made quick work of the soft restraints, and they fell from Scout’s arms to dangle off the sides of the bed. “You are with the doctor. He will take care of you.”

“Oh…” Scout whispered. Scout’s eyes trailed around the room, slow and stuttery, until they found Medic, still standing frozen by his desk. Like melting ice, clarity emerged through Scout’s bleariness, and it manifested in a single word as Scout whispered, “M...Med…?”

It snapped Medic out of the trance he’d fallen into, and he scrambled to put together another cup of medicine and bring it over with his wrapped cold-compress. For a moment he and Spy locked eyes, and Spy recalled that Medic hadn’t seen his face in the years since his initial physical. Politely, Medic didn’t stare. 

“Herr Scout,” Medic uttered, allowing Scout to get his bearings before lifting Scout’s hand and having him hold the small cup. “Drink this.”

“Wh-”

“Fever reducer,” said Medic before Scout attempted to stumble through a question. Distractedly, he placed the compress alongside Spy's gloves on the table, appearing to forget about it. “I will bring you something to ease your sleep, if you will take it this time. And water. You may also need…” Medic trailed off and wandered to his shelves again, muttering under his breath all of the things he could have Scout take while he was conscious.

Spy moved his hand to support Scout’s and helped him guide it to his lips. “Drink this, lapin. You will feel better.”

He could see the hesitance screwing up on Scout’s face, and trusted Scout’s reflexes were too sluggish to resist when he poured it into Scout’s mouth.

“Swallow, Jeremy. Swallow, s’il te plaît.” Spy put his hand over Scout’s mouth when Scout tried to spit it out, foul though it may have been. He kept his hand until he felt Scout swallow. "Ah, Très bien, mon chou.”

“Has he spit it out again?” Medic returned with a glass of water in one hand.

“Non, he’s swallowed it.” Spy swept the sweat from Scout’s forehead. “Water, please?”

“He’s swallowed it?” Medic’s voice held a relief so palpable it was almost suspended in the air. He passed the glass into Spy’s hand. “Truly?”

“Yes.” Spy let silence fall between them and guided the water into Scout’s limp hand, then tilted his head back for him to drink. He took to the water much more readily than the medicine. Once it touched his lips he began to swallow like a man on the verge of death, and Spy had to pull the glass away twice so he wouldn’t choke. “Pace yourself, mon chou.”

“I have not been able to get him to drink anything in days. I would allow him some desperation,” Medic said. He’d removed his glasses, rubbing out the smudges on the edge of his vest. “I do not know how long you’ll wish to stay, but if I may-”

“I’ll stay until the boy can take a drink on his own,” Spy spoke over him, though only giving Medic half of his attention. “Perhaps after, if more problems arise.”

Scout blinked slowly, like a barn owl, and each blink after that was heavier than the last. It didn’t take long for Scout’s eyes to fall shut and for his breathing, though still labored, to come in even strokes. Spy let his hand rest upon the boy’s cheek, and a long-dead warmth that Spy had not experienced in decades washed over him like a baptism.

“This time, mon lapin,” whispered Spy, stroked Scout’s cheekbone, and pulled his hand away.

“Hm?” That was Medic, somewhere by his desk.

“This time,” Spy repeated. “I would like to stay for him.”

~~~

Also I did not edit this so...lol

tanks for reading :)

[shurisneakers]

a harmless drabble more on the angsty/hurt and comfort side of things? 🥺

a/n: sigh. welcome to chaos week update #2 :)) last one is out this friday and im exhausted pls keep me in your thoughts or send me doughnuts. either works hey, just a shoutout to the anon who has a presentation today. i hope it all goes well :)

warning: lot of swearing, angst, anxiety, self esteem issues, sick bucky, but it gets lighter at the end dw

word count: 8.4k (we established like seven parts ago that these aren’t drabbles anymore)

Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

He probably shouldn’t be even awake right now.

But he was.

With a vengeance.

Over fifty hours of a recon mission paired with the additional stakeout due to people not doing their jobs correctly made sure it was a very long two weeks.

The last stretch had been a bit of an adrenaline rush, a lot of explosions and walking away like a badass even though the combination of heat and leather had him sweating buckets. He hopes that the same high would keep him going for at least another few hours before he crashed for the next three days.

“Buck, you’re gonna be exhausted by the time we reach. Can’t you push it to tomorrow?” Steve tries his level best to reason with him, knowing that Bucky in particular had volunteered for a lot of the mission assignments when others were too tired or occupied to pursue it.

“She’s busy tomorrow. School’s got some dance planning committee happening.” Whatever your inator was, he could punch a hole through it and be done for the day. “It’ll be 20 minutes tops.”

“No point arguing with him, Cap. He’s whipped.” Clint’s kinda delirious. He’s almost fallen over twice already, Bucky’s metal arm being the only thing that stopped it from happening. Maybe Clint’s head deserved to hit the floor a couple of times after that comment.

“Shut up.” He fiddles with the solar system bracelet around his wrist, shoving all the beads to one side before thumbing them back. Not a very convincing argument but the same adrenaline is starting to wear off faster than could conserve. “I’m not.”

“Just go on Tuesday or something. ’s not like you wait for the weekend to see her anymore,” Clint throws in a rebuttal much to his annoyance. “Didn’t you meet her after school that day?”

“She said she was going to hypnotise some birds to go shit on someone.” Fuckin’ Jeff.

“Yeah, but then you walked her home afterwards.”

“It was a part of the negotiation.” A trade off, even.

He wonders if the thread that linked all the beads would ever wear out with how much he played around with it, but so far it showed no signs of giving away.

“Negotiation, date, whatever you wanna call it. The point still stands.”

“It’s your fourth mission this month, bud,” Steve interrupts before Bucky’s glare burns holes into Clint’s face. “You need to relax.”

The quinjet takes a sharp turn and Bucky feels like he’s gonna throw up. Motion sickness was a rarity, only showing up in cases where his body was on the verge of crumbling due to fatigue.

He takes a swig of water, shoving down any signs of distress. “Swear on Barton’s life, I'll take a break after this.”

“Motherfucker, I know you’re lying.” Clint whips around in his seat. “Take it back right now. You’re gonna get me killed.”

“Maybe you deserve it,” Bucky quips back calmly.

“That’s fair.” Clint pauses. “But I’ll take you with me, Jimmy.”

Bucky scowls at the nickname. He absolutely loathes it, which gives this piece of shit all the more reason to use it.

“Can you both shut up?” Nat groans from her seat, doing everyone a favour.

“Whose side are you on, Tasha?” Her blonde and begrudgingly admitted best friend asks.

“Whoever pushes you out of this plane in the next five minutes, Clinton.” She smiles sweetly at him but it drops abruptly. “Steve, just let him go, he’s a big boy now. But you’re finding your own way home, Barnes. I’m not picking you up again.”

She picked him up twice a long time ago and one of them was when you called her over to thank her and return the microchip she got you from the lab.

Back then he knew that the team kept in contact with you occasionally, but not to the point where he had to wait half an hour for Nat to stop telling you about the tech behind her photostatic veils so he could finally go home.

“You guys are great,” Bucky mumbles sarcastically, getting up to go punch in the new coordinates. “Best fuckin’ friends a fella could ask for.”

They still have a long way to go. Bits of conversation takes place, but a two week long mission tends to drain the life out of even enhanced human beings so it’s mostly quiet. The longer he sits idly, the longer the weariness sets in. He could take a walk but he’s not sure he could make an entire lap.

Clint's head droops as he slips in and out of sleep again. Bucky considers letting him hit the cold, hard ground in an act of revenge.

In the end, he sticks his arm out again, pushing him back into his seat.

Steve lowers the jet for him at the street outside your lair, enough for him to jump out and not lie on the ground in pain. Still, it takes him a little longer to stop the dizzying when he lands, before he rolling his shoulders and walks to the door.

The lair’s lit up in shades of yellow and red for a change. Even the pillars with the bubbling liquid were a flaming orange to match whatever theme you had going on.

You were in the smack middle, dressed like a completely authentic firefighter.

“You’re back!” you cheer when he opens the door. You follow it up with a quick clearing of your throat, dropping your voice lower to sound more serious. “You’re back.”

He can’t think of anything to say so he just walks to the middle of the lair, a few feet away from the raised platform. His backpack is still with him, a few grimy and tattered clothes, empty guns inside and other essentials inside. But there’s a separate paper bag that he’s holding in his hand.

“I got you something,” he informs to the best of his ability, holding it up. He wonders if you even heard it, considering how coarse his words had sounded.

“What is it?” You jump down from the platform to meet him midway.

“Open it.” He extends it forward.

He’s a little nervous when you pull out a t-shirt from the bag, ‘I love Philippines’ printed against the plain black, the love represented by a bright red heart.

“You bought me a souvenir.” Your eyes widen when you twist it around to look at the words.

“Yeah.” Could he sit down for a few minutes, maybe? Your chair looks real nice. “There’s some chocolate in there if you want.”

“You’re so cute, oh my God.” You hold it up against you, checking out the fit.

He can feel himself smiling but he isn’t exactly sure if he is.

“Thanks, sarge.” You half consider wearing it right now but you don’t want to ruin it with what you have planned. “I love it.”

Bucky gives you a thumbs up, arm dropping to his side when it takes more energy than it should.

“Did you come here right after a mission?” You notice the beads of perspiration lining his forehead. “Is that why you’re all sweaty?”

He just ‘mhm’s in response. He didn’t even notice how hot he was feeling.

He forces himself to pay attention when your fingers wave in front of his face.

“You okay?” You’re a step closer than he remembers you being a second ago. “You look kinda pale.”

“’m fine.” It feels like gravel scraping against his throat. “What d’ya have planned for today?”

You look entirely unconvinced. “Aren’t you supposed to be hibernating right now?”

“Nah.” Did he land 2 minutes ago or two hours ago? How long has he even been here? “Slept on the jet.”

Accidentally, before snapping awake thirty seconds later when turbulence hit.

“Okay,” you say hesitantly. “If you say so.”

You march back to the platform. He lets the backpack fall to the ground, exhaling in relief at the sudden weight off his shoulder. He walks over to leave it by the wall, well out of the way so that neither of you trip.

You stretch your arms out and declare something about subverting expectations and turning things into water so you could float giant paper boats but he only catches bits and pieces of it. He supposes the subverting expectations had to do with the theme of the lair and your costume.

“Where, uh-” If you had mentioned it and he wasn’t paying attention, this was going to be embarrassing, “-where is this... thing?”

“You’ll have to find it.” You grin. “A little game.”

He blinks rapidly, the words taking some time to register in his brain.

“It’s here somewhere?” He looks around, the bright colours bringing on the early signs of a migraine.

"You will never-" you begin to cackle but pause mid-sentence, "Bucky, are you sure you're fine?"

He nods with a slight wince, beckoning for you to go on. His shoulder pressed against the concrete for support, centring his balance accordingly.

"It’s around here.” You sound more disinterested, instead, eyes trained on him in worry. “But there’s this whole ‘floor is lava’ thing going on, it’s gonna get a little crazy.”

“Ah.” Jesus, had it been over sixty hours since he’d been awake? What fucking day of the week was it?

“Listen, can I get you something? Do you want some water or-”

His legs nearly buckle under him in a flash.

"Can we just take 5?" He slides to the ground along the wall, leaning on his palm to stay upright.

"Shit, Buck." You immediately leap off your platform to get to him. “What’s happening to you?”

“‘m fine,” he groans, trying to push himself up again.

“Clearly you’re not.” You drop to your knees by him to get a picture of what exactly was wrong.

"I have super healing.” He clenches his eyes shut. “I'll be fine, just- just give me a minute."

"You're sick, James.” He can feel your hand press against his forehead, a welcome coolness against the heat. “You're burning up."

Alright. Maybe he isn’t that fine.

“I’m callin’ Hill.” You dig around your firefighter’s outfit for your phone. “This is why we don't see each other until you've gotten some rest, Bucky. We could have just rescheduled.”

His eyes blow open, hand reaching out to grab your wrist. "No, no.”

“What?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing.

He shakes his head. “Don't take me back there. They won't let me go on missions."

"Well, they shouldn't, not if things like this are going to happen," you bite back, finger hovering over the contact.

"Please,” he pleads, "Please. I don’t know how else to make up for it.”

“Make up for what?” Your determination falters.

“Everything.” His eyes close again. “Don’t call them.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” you breathe out. “How do I help you, sweetheart, you gotta tell me.”

You check his temperature again, biting your lip to quell what feels a lot like rising fear because panicking wouldn’t help the situation. His skin burns under yours.

“Just leave your hand there,” he says under his breath. The ground was cold, God, he wanted to lie down. “Feels nice.”

Sleep looks like she’s finally catching up with him, a race that she inevitably always won. She’s a sneaky one.

He doesn’t try to resist this time, letting it consume him.

Something under him is plush, soft. It’s not dissimilar to the seats in the common room.

He can barely rotate his body, every muscle feels like it's on the verge of tearing and fuck, he's barely conscious but he manages to pry his eyes open.

“Easy there, Buck." It's you, even though he's moving in and out of consciousness he can tell it's you.

The room's too bright. The world's too bright. The panic builds in his chest.

"Where am I?" His words come out slurred, eyes squinting painfully.

“My couch," you sound gentle, calming. "You're safe. Go back to sleep."

Okay. He trusts you.

He passes out before his head hits the pillow.

Bucky doesn't dream. He has nightmares, yeah, but those had begun to lessen in frequency after he started working on them a few months ago.

This isn't a nightmare.

It's a dark, navy blue sky, pristine white ground and a mist swirling around with the strong wind. He swears he can feel the cool droplets collecting on every inch of him. He doesn't feel nervous... just strange.

It’s uncharted territory.

There’s not a lot going on otherwise.

He takes a step forward, and another, and another when nothing happens. It’s a slow walk against the low howl of the draft, but it looks like there’s no one around for miles.

He stands still for a second. Lets the world move around him.

He’s alone anyway.

“Bucky.” He jerks awake again, hastily pulled away from the nothingness. “Slow down. Breathe. It’s me.”

“How long have I been out?” he croaks out. It feels like five minutes between since he shut his eyes.

“About two hours.” He hears a clink as you set a tray down on the table beside him. “Sorry for waking you up. Just thought you needed some water.”

He can’t lift his head up. It’s bordering on humiliating. “I can’t-”

“Got you a straw,” you break in gently. “But I’m gonna need you to take these for your fever. You’re still burning up pretty bad.”

Something pokes at the corner of his mouth. He figures you’re holding up the glass for him. The straw’s helpful, and hell, you were right. His throat was absolutely parched and the water sliding down feels like a respite but he can’t get more than a few sips in.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-” he begins in a long series of apologies to come, hoping the throbbing in his head would go away.

“Get some rest, Buck.” You knew that if he started he wouldn’t ever stop. “We’ll talk about this later.”

There’s the sound of a light switch clicking and he’s left in silence for a few seconds.

He should have just gone home. He should have listened.

But he wanted to give you the t-shirt.

He’s been walking for what seemed like hours now.

The inky dark horizon seems endless, the white ground crunches under his feet.

Is this what fever dreams were really like?

Or is this what his normal dreams are like? He can’t really remember the last one he had.

He doesn’t know what he’s headed towards but something in him tells him not to stop. There’s an unspoken destination to get to.

“Where are you going?” A voice asks from around him. No matter how ominous it was, it doesn’t seem to unnerve him.

“‘m not sure,” he admits, his pace not faltering.

It doesn’t ask anything further so he keeps treading.

It’s a minute before something catches his eye. A light appears in the distance. His heart lifts.

Something warm. Inviting.

Fire?

The closer he gets, the clearer it becomes that it is a fireplace. It stands alone out there, several logs of wood accompanying it with an axe leaning against them.

The flame’s dull.

He gets to work.

His forehead feels cool. He thinks that either his dream was had transcended into reality or he’s sweat right through his shirt and condensation was working wonders.

His hand shifts up to wipe at his skin. It comes in contact with cloth instead and it takes him a moment to realise that it was a wet hand towel laid across his forehead.

He hasn’t been like this in years. He sure remembers laying soaked handkerchiefs on Steve a lot when they were boys, nights of flu and stomach bugs keeping Bucky up in palpable fear until his friend’s fever broke in the early hours of the morning. He can’t recall the last time someone had done it for him.

He can hear you tinkering with something in the other room. His senses seemed like they were gradually making a comeback, but along with them came the most excruciating headache.

A small groan escapes him when he tries to flip over, hands flying to his temple to try and relieve some of the pressure. The serum was good most of the time. But for all the epic moments of energy and healing it gave him, the inevitable lows crashed down just as hard.

But a headache was good. If this was the worst he had been feeling all day, then he knew from experience that it was going to be over soon.

“Where does it hurt?” He didn’t even notice that you had stopped building whatever you were, now crouching a few feet away from the couch.

“My fuckin’ head.” He turns over to press his face against the sofa cushion, hoping that the darkness would help in some way.

He can feel your fingers run through his hair, pushing it away from where it stuck to his face. His teeth unclench slightly, just for a second, before another wave hits him.

He begs to go back under.

It’s snow, he realises. The white ground is snow.

“Why don’t you sit down for a while?” it cajoled again. The voice doesn’t have a physical form but he can feel it follow him around like a little friend.

“Can’t.” He’s been hacking away at the wood for too long now, using the bits to keep the flame going, keep it alive before it dies out on him.

“Can’t or won’t?”

He leans against the hilt of the axe, breathing heavily. He’s exhausted.

“Won’t.” His voice is quieter, eyes downcast.

The wind doesn’t give up around him. It hugs him like a blanket, adding to what could easily turn into misery.

“What do you think is going to happen if you keep at this?”

Warmth. Something to break the monotony of the blue around him. Maybe the heat would invite someone to sit with. Redemption.

“I don’t know.” He brings the tool down hard on another block, breaking it into half before he throws it into the fireplace.

“You’re not seeing what you’ve already created,” it points out delicately. “Wait for a second, watch the fire.”

He wipes his brow, taking a step back. His muscles were aching, shortness of breath finally catching up to him.

If it gives up on him, he’d have to work twice as hard.

But the fire continues to crackle, seconds, moments, even minutes later. Just as bright.  

Has it always been?

“Yes, it has.” It reads his mind.

At what point did it stop mattering how much he tried to keep it alive?

“A long time ago.” It didn’t make sense. “So then why are you working so hard towards it when it’s already here?”

Something is kneading on his head. It’s foreign and should definitely set off alarm bells but it's nice. It feels good.

"Hey, B." You’re on a single seat couch adjacent to his, welding gloves on your hand. Do you ever take a break? “You look better.”

"Hi." He reaches up, coming in contact with metal this time. "What's on my head?"

"Synthesised Message Inducer."

A message inducer?

"What messages were you sending me?" Is that why his dream was so fucking weird?

"Well- none," you confess. "I read the label wrong. Turns out it’s a massage inducer. Don't know what evil I can do with that but it’s helpful.”

No wonder.

"You mentioned a headache before you passed out again so I just thought that-" you gesture to it with a flick of your hand. "Is it making you uncomfortable? I wasn't sure-"

"It feels good,” he murmurs, trying his best to straighten up. "Thank you."

“You look less pale.” You smile, although it looks strained. “You hungry?”

“Don’t think so.”

“There’s some Gatorade on the table. Saltines too, if you can stomach it.”

He knows he should eat. His metabolism needs it.

You push yourself off your couch to go sit beside him. He sits up straight, back leaning heavily against the couch when you land next to him.

He takes three out of the bowl of saltines you offer him. Breaking it into little pieces, he pops a few in his mouth, chewing slowly. A quick sip of Gatorade washes it down for momentary satisfaction but he knows it won’t be nearly enough to fill the hunger that will eventually hit him the minute he’s a little healthier. His body’s energy was being entirely spent in fixing him up.

“Steve called, by the way.” Of course, he did. Mother.

“Did you pick up?” He twists the cap back onto the bottle.

“Let it ring all the way through.” You take it from him and leave it on the floor beside the couch, lifting your legs to keep onto the table.

“He’ll call back later.”

“I think it’ll be fun to reject Steve Rogers’ call.”

Oh, it definitely is. Gets him all riled up.

“How you feeling?” You sneak a glance at him.

“Better than this morning.” An hour more and he’d be good to go.

You nod, looking down at your lap. "You scared the shit out of me, you know.”

"I'm sorry." Guilt. It’s guilt that might just eat him alive. “Really.”

“I know what you’re thinking.”  You wave it off. "Don’t. I'm just glad you're okay."

There’s a beat of silence where he’s not quite sure what to say. There’s a certain tension that hangs in the air between you both. He can feel the drowsiness creep on him again.

“But you need to tell the team, James,” you say softly. “You need to talk to someone.”

He doesn’t react too much. He knew it would come up eventually.

Bucky exhales uneasily. “I know.”

“Will you?”

The million-dollar question. He doesn’t want to lie and tell you that he absolutely will because he doesn’t know.

His head cautiously rests on your shoulder. You don’t hesitate for a moment before shifting to make him more comfortable, leaning your cheek on his hair.

“I’m gonna pick up next time Rogers calls.”

“Yeah?”

“Gonna tell him you got held up on our date.” He feels your chest rise and fall with a small laugh. He smiles against your shoulder.

“They’ll get on my ass.”

“You should get bullied, it’s good for character development.”

Some date.

He can’t even stay awake longer than five minutes at a time.

He’s still cutting the wood fervently, throwing blocks upon blocks into the fire to keep it alive, keep him alive.

“You know you don’t have to keep doing this, James,” it’s being a voice of reason but he can’t afford to listen to it. “You’re not gonna find something new that you don’t already have.”

“What do I have?” he asks desperately, planting his feet in the ground, hand gripping the axe tightly.

“You know what.”

He does. “Don’t say it.”

“Accepta-”

“No.”

“That’s going to keep burning.” It’s true. “You’re just going to kill yourself trying to keep it.”

He has to earn it. He has to do something to be worthy of what it was giving him because if it knew the kinds of things he’s done, things he has to make up for- it’d extinguish a long time ago.

“You don’t.”

“I do.” No matter how long he stays still, it shows no sign of flickering.

“The fire’s still alive.” It’s calm despite how frantic he was turning.

“I’m useless here,” he says defeatedly against its insistence. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Maybe you don’t.” It stings. “But maybe you do. Either way, it’s giving it to you, no strings attached.”

He lifts his axe over his shoulder again, ready to bring it down.

“You don’t have to offer a service to have worth.”

He halts, body frozen. His chest constricts almost painfully.

“Sit down for a while,” its command is kind, almost caring. “Let it come to you.”

“Fuck,” it escapes him like a small prayer.

The axe drops to the ground. He shakily takes a seat.

It’s a kitten.

On his chest.

Bucky stares right at it and it unflinchingly stares back.

He’s not really sure if he’s still dreaming or not.

He hesitatingly uses a finger to scratch behind its ear.

“Hello,” he whispers. It leans into his touch, pressing itself against his palm. “Where’d you come from?”

"You're awa- ah, jeez, I'm sorry." You walk into the room, finally changed into an oversized cardigan and out of your lab coat, "She's clingy."

"It's okay." He likes it. “This is your cat?”

“Yeah. Finally, about time you two met.”

He folds his legs to give you space on the couch. You sit next to him, a cup of something warm in your hands. There’s music playing softly through the apartment, tracks definitely from the 80s. He recognises some of them from the playlists Sam had been sending to catch him up.

“You look good as new.” His temperature had gone down a while ago and his headache had subsided after thirty more minutes of sleep and an Aspirin.

“Feel normal.” Praise be to the serum. “Think it’s over.”

“You need some more water?”

“I’m good.” He’s fucking starving, though. “What have you been up to all day?”

“School stuff.” You relax into the seat. “Inators to kick your ass when you’re not unconscious on my couch.”

“Winter Formal prep?” He flinches when the cat digs her claws into his chest but it doesn’t hurt that bad, arching her back before snuggling back.

“Yeah. Turns out I’m chaperoning.” The cynicism in your tone has him believing that maybe it’s not your activity of choice. “Yay.”

“When is it?”

“Pretty soon. The planning committee’s all excited.” You take a sip out of your mug. “I get one day to recuperate.”

Maybe he should leave you alone for the next few weeks. Maybe a month. Possibly forever.

“I’m sorry,” he says for the umpteenth time that day but at least now he’s properly conscious.

“I know you are.” You don’t sound mad at him. “You don’t need to be. What are frenemies for?”

He lingers a little longer on the word, reevaluating what exactly this thing was at this point.

“Plus you brought me a present.” You gesture to yourself and he realises only then that you actually have the shirt on. “That makes it pretty even, I think.”

“You sure?”

You know it’s an unspoken way of asking if you want him to get out and never come back, judging by the way his lip was caged between his teeth.

“Absolutely.” You finish whatever you’re drinking, leaving it on the coffee table. “And you fixed my generator last time you were at the lair so, you know, an eternal debt or something.”

Well, it nearly electrocuted you and him so it’s not like it was a difficult choice to make.

“I think she likes you.” You raise your eyebrows at the cat who had dozed off on his chest a while ago when he wasn’t paying attention. “Traitor.”

“She has good taste.” He didn’t think he was a cat person, having grown up with his neighbour’s dogs and the human equivalent of a spunky Golden Retriever.

“She has terrible taste. Unless she likes me, then she’s basically Gordon Ramsay.”

“You keep telling yourself that.” He retracts his hand back to his side, fully intending not to disturb her. He probably wouldn’t be able to move from that position for the next few hours out of compulsion.

The ease slowly returning to your conversation takes off some of the edge he was feeling.

“Something feels wrong about today.” He stares off to the side, turning his face to the wall.

“Aside from me having to use all my Grey’s Anatomy knowledge on you?” You snicker. “Web MD told me you had Pneumococcal Meningitis.”

“No. I don’t think you’ve said enough bullshit for today.” There’s a certain quota that’s been set.

“I did, you just weren’t awake to hear any of it.” There’s a smile on your face finally and the relief he feels is immeasurable. “Told you all my hopes and dreams.”

“Yeah?” He raises an eyebrow, head inclined ever so slightly to look at you. “What’d that include?”

“To start, I’d like a pony.” You pull your knees up to your chest, circling your arms around it. “Then a private island.”

“You’re startin’ small.” The corner of his lip tugs upwards. “Real humble.”

“You know me, queen of humility and all that.” You brush his comment aside. “But you know what‘s actually wrong?”

He hums in curiosity.

“I haven’t hit on you all day.”

Ah.

“‘M sure it’s hurtin’ pretty bad,” he says in amusement.

“You have no idea.” You sigh loudly. “How else will you know about my undying love for you?”

“Get it out of your system then.” Months ago he wouldn’t have even dreamed of encouraging this behaviour, but here he was.

“Don’t think you can handle it, buddy,” you tease, eyes crinkling.

“Why, because I have a fever?” He smiles playfully. “Just means I’m hotter than usual.”

You press your lips into a straight line to avoid smiling back. “Mr Barnes, are you flirting with yourself?”

“So what if I am?”

“That’s my job, sir.” You huff. “You gonna have me unemployed now?”

Begrudgingly, he thinks you do your job very well, so no, he’s probably not going to.

He shakes his head slowly instead, stopping when he feels the movement send a shot of pain up his neck. Certainly slept the wrong way.

There’s a faint spell of victory on your face. “You hungry? Been a while since you ate anything.”

“Kinda.” His stomach lining was going to digest itself but he’d never tell you that.

You’re about to open your mouth and tell him that he was a wholeass snack and you were starving when the front door’s doorknob jiggles.

The key turns, finally pushing open and accompanied by a voice that can only be described as peeved.

“Y/N, did you forget the fuckin- oh mother of God.” Some guy covers his eyes instantly, retracting back to the doorway. “You coulda warned me you had a guy here. Is he clothed?”

“Unfortunately, he is.”

“Sir, are you clothed?” he asks aloud instead, ignoring your cry of betrayal.

“Uh, yeah.” Bucky clears his throat awkwardly. “I am.”

“You have no faith in me, Jake,” you grumble, not even meeting his gaze in greeting.

“Fuck off, Y/N,” he replies like it’s a habit, peeking through his fingers to look at who was in the living room.

Oh, this was Jake. Roommate Jake that you’ve mentioned to him a few times before, mostly in complaints.

Roommate Jake’s eyes squint in an effort to discern who was on the couch.

“Anyway come meet-”

“I see.” Recognition finally settles on his face, paving way for immediate displeasure.

“This is Sergeant Ba-”

“I know who he is,” he says dryly. “Why is there a superhero in our apartment? Nice to meet you, by the way.”

Bucky simply waves in acknowledgement, feeling pretty helpless. He tries to sit up straight but the cat simply latches onto him, dragging herself further up his chest and settling there.

“We’re having a sleepover.” You nudge Bucky’s knee with your elbow. “We just did each other’s nails. Do you wanna join?”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” he retorts curtly. “I’m gonna go change. Make sure we still have a home by the time I return.”

Oof.

“Left you some pasta in the microwave,” you call out, face scrunched in anticipation.

Jake stops down the hall. “You didn’t do the laundry today, did you?”

“The pasta is really good,” you say alternatively.

“Again, fuck you,” he reiterates before a door opens and closes. “I’m gonna have you evicted.”

There’s a stupidly big grin on your face when you turn back to Bucky. “I was just fuckin’ with him, I did the laundry.”

“He hates me,” Bucky states, pulling you out of your self-induced haze of pettiness.

“Ah ah, correction; he doesn’t hate you,” you emphasise, wagging a finger. “He hates all of you. The entire team.”

Bucky’s nose crinkles.

“Don’t look so confused, I warned you about this a while ago.”

He vaguely remembers you telling him to come find out the reason.

“Why?” If it was an anti-superhero agenda, it wouldn’t be the first time Bucky had encountered one of them.

“He has one of the worst jobs in the city.” You smirk. “He works in insurance.”

Oh.

“Every time aliens destroy New York, he works overtime.”

Oh.

“‘Hi, thank you so much for calling Gold Star Insurance, how may I help you? Oh, Shmulk used your car as a landing pad?’' you mimic, hand pressed to your ear like a phone. “‘Yes, we can set you up with a claim. Lemme just transfer you real quick to-’”

“I don’t sound like that.” Jake’s voice carries over from the kitchen.

“No one said this was you,” you fire back, rolling your eyes. “God, Jake, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

“It will once I change the locks on all our doors, Y/N.” His voice is muffled as he opens the fridge, burrowing his head inside. “Did you finish my fucking yoghurt?”

It’s like your ears perk up the way you whirl around to the direction he was. “Admit you ate my cereal, bitch.”

“I don’t even like your shitty cereal,” he shouts back, shutting the fridge door. “You ate my damn yoghurt. I’m adding it to your rent for this month.”

“Fuck your yoghurt.” You sound a little too proud for someone who supposedly didn’t have anything to do with it.

There’s silence until he pokes around the corner, phone in his hand.

“Did you eat dinner?” Jake asks normally.

“No. You ordering?” The way your tone shifts almost gives Bucky whiplash.

“Yeah. Pizza?”

“Sounds good. I’ll pay.”

“Nah, I got it. You paid last time.” He punches in the number. “Sergeant Barnes, would you like some pizza?”

“No, I-” He’s well overstayed his welcome. He probably has a few therapist appointments to make, a few missions to cancel from his schedule.

“Yes, he would,” you interrupt. “Order another large please, Jakey.”

“Cool.” He walks away, speaking into the phone.

“Get dessert,” you yell after him.

He shouts a muffled agreement back.

“Hope you like pepperoni.” You return your attention to Bucky. “That’s his default for people he doesn’t know.”

“Uh, yeah.” He doesn’t quite know what to say after all that. “He seems nice.”

“He’s an asshole.” Your eyes shine in excitement. “I love him.”

The cat paws at his chest, demanding the attention Bucky hadn’t been giving her all this while. He scratches her back again before she goes back to sleep.

“Sergeant Barnes, are you injured?” Jake walks back into the room. “Did one of her dumb machines do this?”

“He’s fine.” You shoot a look towards Bucky who nods in confirmation. “And my machines aren’t dumb, they’re stupid.”

"Is he going to die on our couch?" Jake turns to him. "Are you going to die on our couch?"

"No, he isn't," you say, a tick of annoyance in your voice.

“I really am fine,” Bucky adds on, switching between you and him.

"We could get court-martialed, you know."

"We'll just go on the run." Your eyes shine. "You and me, living it up as criminals. We'll even bring Fondant."

He looks at you in disdain. "We're taking the cat with us?"

"You love her, shut up."

“She sheds everywhere.”

"Your cat's name is Fondant?" Bucky dares to speak up in the middle of whatever this was.

"Among others." Jake sighs. "It was Vaseline this morning, Daisy yesterday and probably will be something stupid like Q-Tip tonight."

You let out an ‘ooh’ in excitement. "Q-Tip is a good one, Jake."

"That was an insult, not a suggestion," he shoots back. "You can't even decide on a name."

"You call her Airpod.”

“She’s small and white and I can never find her anywhere.”

“That's the worst name. What if I went around calling you Shit Stain, huh? Because that’s what you are,” you accuse, adoration highlighting your face when you look at her. "We need a good name, something worthy of her."

"Sergeant Barnes, since you're here would you like to weigh in on the situation?"

Not really. But he's starting to take a liking towards the little thing that was fast asleep on his chest. 

“You can just call me Bucky,” he says instead, figuring that since he was crashing on your shared couch, Jake could at least get nickname privileges.

“You know what, you’re right,” you start, ignoring his white flag. “Bucko here should pick a name.”

“Uh-” Bucky didn’t know this was still the topic of discussion, considering how fast the both of you had been bickering back and forth.

“Stop pestering him,” Jake carped.

“Let him speak, bro, holy shit,” you exclaim, throwing your hand up in a ‘what the hell?’.

“Like you’re going to actually use it. Don’t get his hopes up too high.”

“Maybe I will.” You scowl at Jake, giving Bucky a smile. “No pressure sarge, it can’t be worse than Airpod.”

It can if Bucky tries hard enough.

Jake was right, though, it is tiny and white. Snowball was too common, Frostbite was too violent and you had already used Daisy once-

“How about Alpine?” He scratches under its chin. She turns her head up in contentment.

“Alpine,” you test how it feels on your tongue. “Alpine.”

“It can be something else, I don’t know-”

“I like it.” Something about it feels right. “I really do.”

“A normal fucking name. Hallelujah.” Jake crosses his arms across his chest. “If you change it now I’m getting a dog.”

“Nice one, sarge.” You pet her back, grinning when she leans into you.

“Glad to be of service.” Your fingers brush against his for a second and he freezes. He doesn’t even think you notice the mini contact, already busy in firing off a new insult at your roommate.

“Sergeant Barnes, in case you need to kill her at any point, I can tell you her schedule.” Jake glares at you.

“He already has my schedule, so you can eat shit.” You flip him off. “He and I are besties.”

Bucky still has the certificate you mailed him about your promotion from strangers to best friends. It was definitely tacky, but he appreciated the gift card you sent along with it.

An hour later he’s stuffed with so many carbs, his mother would be proud. His diet doesn’t usually consist of copious amounts of pizza but fuck it, he probably needs the energy for the lecture he was going to receive later on.

His lips taste like strawberries from the chapstick you forced him to use, his hair tied back in a little bun because the cat wouldn’t stop playing with it and he’s about halfway through listening to a conversation about why insurance workers had it harder than lawyers while living in a city full of superheroes.

“They get to sit up there in their fancy little air-conditioned rooms but we’re doing all the groundwork,“ Jake rants, eyes still trained on the rerun of an old football match playing on the TV.

“Right,” Bucky acknowledges. It’s not like he has any say in this, he wasn’t the one cleaning up the mess. He had spent his fair share of hours helping cleaners clear up debris and discarded alien rubble from Avengers battlegrounds but he certainly should start investing more time into it. 

“And don’t even get me started on the fuckin’ landlords-”

“Is he still talking?” you interject, rounding the corner from your visit to the kitchen to get some water.

“I’m sorry I’m more interesting than you,” he shoots back without a break. “Anyway, as I was saying-”

You had a glass in one hand Bucky’s phone in the other, a constant stream of buzzing drawing his attention to it. He already knew what it was. 

“Shut up for once in your life, Jake. Bucky, catch.” You toss his phone at him and he catches it with one hand. “Your phone’s been blowing up Mr. Steal Your Girl. Who are you cheating on me with?”

He unlocks it to find his notifications drowned by a series of texts. He ignores the ones from Steve and Sam’s number is still blocked, so that leaves him with only one option.

From Clint

steve’s trying to convince sam to send redwing after you lol

From Clint

i told him he should check in with every morgue in the city

From Clint

ok he spent half an hour doing it lmao where are you

From Clint

if you’re alive can you get me some pringles on the way home

From Clint

sour cream and onion

From Clint

nat told me i shouldn’t have said that. my bad.

From Clint

*when you’re alive can you get me some pringles on the way home

From Bucky

no

From Clint

i’m telling steve you died on a bridge

Bucky locks his phone again, shoving it into his pocket. “I think I should go.”

“Aw, already? You can take Jake’s bedroom if you want,” you offer earnestly. “He can sleep on the asphalt.”

“We have a guest bedroom.” Jake rolls his eyes. “And you can stay over if you need to, Sergeant.”

“Nah, I think Steve might end up here soon if I don’t let him know I’m alright.” The man needed to get laid. It had been too long.

“Well, why don’t you just tell him you’re fine?” Jake is logical, his suggestion reasonable.

Bucky stops to really think about his answer for a moment. 

“It’s funnier.”

Bucky tries to lift Alpine off his lap and onto the couch so she can continue her nap. She opens her eyes briefly before arching her back and jumping off him without so much as a second glance back. Is this what feeling used is like?

“It was nice meeting you.” Your roommate holds out his hand and Bucky takes it firmly, shaking it and responding in kind. “You should visit again. Could use some reinforcements against this crackhead.”

“No one likes you,” you respond, handing Bucky his backpack. “Go add some numbers or cry in a corner or something.”

Jake sends a middle finger and a sarcastic smile your way before disappearing into the kitchen to get the garbage bags.

“Can’t keep America’s Golden Boy waiting.” You hand Bucky his backpack on the way out. 

“He’s anything but America’s Boy.” Bucky scoffs, opening the door and stepping out, “Punk’s broken just about every law under the sun. Not exactly patriotic of him.”

“A rebel with a cause.” A lightbulb goes off in your head. “I know someone who might like that.”

“You’re plannin’ on setting Steve up?” It was probably about damn time. “Good luck.”

“He’s gonna need it, not me.” Your lips upturn in a smirk. “Speaking of your teammates, who’s picking you up?”

“I’ll probably walk.” He inhales deeply, lips pressing inward in a line. “Could use some air.”

“Are you serious?”

He looks at you quizzically. “Yeah.”

“All you superheroes and your lone wolf complexes,” you say under your breath, digging around your cardigan pocket for something.

You ask for his hand. He gives it to you, slightly confused.

“You’re crazy if you think you’re walking home after all that.” You tug his metal arm up slightly to get a better grip on it. 

When your eyes fall on the galaxy bracelet he still has around his wrist, your gaze softens almost immediately. “You kept this?”

Bucky clears his throat, feeling the heat creep into his face. “Steve’s not the only one who needs luck.”

“Sure isn’t,” you agree, moving the bracelet down gently before snapping a new contraption around his hand.

It’s designed to look like a digital watch but he knows exactly what it is.

“Thought you never made two of the same thing.” He stares at the teleportation device that fits snugly around his wrist.

“Yeah, well, your clone getting kidnapped can really change a person,” you murmur. “Made two after the whole thing just in case, but you should have it.”

“Y/N-” he begins, ready to argue.

“I want you to have it,” you interrupt. “Could be helpful on missions. Late night booty calls too, makes the commute less.”

Like he was getting a ton of those on a regular basis.

“I’ll return it next weekend,” he promises, clutching his backpack a little tighter.

“No, you won’t.” You shake your head. “This store doesn’t accept returns.”

He opens his mouth to argue.

“If anything comes out of there that isn’t ‘Y/N you’re the love of my life, please be my girlfriend’, don't even bother,” you warn seriously. 

He shuts his mouth again.

You weren’t going to let him have his way, your stubbornness taking the front seat. It’s slightly infuriating, but he supposes that came with the gig. 

“Thank you,” he says, voice quiet, “for everything.”

“Don’t mention it,” you make a callback to what he said to you months ago. “You glued popsicle sticks together for three hours, ‘tis the least I could do.”

“Still.”

You can tell it’s something he isn’t used to doing, judging by how serious he was. 

“Don’t go all soft on me, Barnes.” You punch his shoulder playfully. “Could even say it’s an evil scheme in itself, making sure your frenemy is fine enough to get their ass handed to them next time.”

“Friends.”

“What?” you ask, not sure if you heard him right.

“We’re friends,” he repeats.

It shouldn’t make your stomach flutter but it does and it’s despicable. 

“Give me two more weeks and we’ll add ‘with benefits’ as a suffix.” Using humour as a way to cope with the sudden surge of your heartbeat maybe isn’t the best way to go about things.

“It’s gonna take a lot longer than that.” He counters, buckling the strap of his backpack across his sternum.

“But you’re not denying that it can happen.” A grin spreads across your face. “It’s just gonna take some time.”

He stops his movements, hand still on the watch as he adjusts the coordinates. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

“Bucky Barnes, you are playing hard to get.” You laugh and he smiles wide and free.

“You gotta put in the work.” Not much, judging by the way he’s looking at you.

“I will wear you down someday,” you swear. “You will admit that you have feelings for me.”

He purses his lips out in contemplation. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” You snort. “Get home safe. And get some sleep.”

“Bye Y/N.” He takes a moment longer to linger on you before pressing down on the watch, blipping out of your view.

You let out an exhale, eyes dropping to the area he was standing just a minute ago.

What a day.

“He your boyfriend?” Jake asks, handing you a bag as you shut the door behind you.

“What? No,” you mumble to yourself, arms crossed over your chest.

“I know you. You don’t just give your inventions away to just anyone,” he continues even when you push past him, “and you especially don’t make stuff twice for them unless they’re Director Fury.”

“I didn’t make that watch for him.” You couldn’t exactly hand out freeze rays and air bending tools to random people. They’d have to have insight into what you were doing in the first place and the only people from your citizen life were T and Jake.

“You’re a terrible liar.” He scoffs. “I saw the blueprint on the table. You built that shit today.”

“They just happened to be there.” You pick up a pizza box, shoving it into the trash. “I was editing a prototype.”

“Y/N, I love you occasionally but you’re full of shit.”

“Beginning to doubt the first part, J.” You hand him the used glasses to take to the sink.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you’ve never built him anything before this.”

You spin on your heel to face him, staring him straight in the eye.

He waits. Your mouth opens to say something before closing it again.

“Your face is ugly.” You press the bag full of garbage into his hand. “Why do you even care so much?”

“Because I’m one of your only two friends, you loser.”

“I have more than two friends.” You huff. “Alpine.”

“Alpine is a cat.”

“Alpine is my best friend and I love her.”

“She is a cat,” he repeats. “Listen- shut up, that cat doesn’t love you- I don’t want anything to happen to you. Your life is fucking weird as it is, just wanna make sure his heart’s in the right place.”

You had already been kinda kidnapped once, what’s the worst that could happen?

You don’t tell Jake that, though. He’d send out a search group the next time you were late.

“He’s good.” You sigh, hand resting on your hip. “And nothing’s going on between us anyway so you got nothing to worry about.”

“Like you don’t have the biggest crush on him.” He swings the bag over his shoulder. “Just because I just choose to ignore you on purpose doesn’t mean I’m ignorant.”

“Yeah, well, I have a crush on someone new every week so your point is invalid.” You put your hands on your waist. “Stop being so mean to me or else I’ll fall in love with you too.”

“God, no. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.” His face twists in disgust as he exits the room. 

“You’re comin’ with me, boy,” you reminded him. “Alpine too.”

“Just for the record,” Jake’s voice resonates through the apartment, “I probably hate him the least out of all of them.”

You let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I figured.”

all proceeds to my ko-fi go towards me trying to get a life or at least some doughnuts <3 (and fix my really fucked up phone)

requests used in this chapter 

Next part

[everythingisawayoflife]

SICKFIC TROPES THAT MAKE ME GUSH

so we all know i love sickfics, they’re my favorite type of fanfictions (hmu if u have recs im desperate). so, in order to make a sickfic catered to my tastes, here is what i want (and tw for mentioned vomiting!) :

first of all, i REALLY love it when a character denies they’re sick and the other character(s) are kind of like but you are though. bonus pts if person a accidentally snaps at b but b is relentless

oh and when i say sickfic, the ones i prefer are LONG oneshots about like a high fever or horrible flu, the more pain the better (is that a bad thing to say)

there is something so tender about a placing a gentle hand on b’s forehead and saying something like “ur burning up”, my personal favorite. bonus pts if b leans into the “cool touch” LIKE UGH

an alternative to the previous one is a kissing b’s forehead and realizing how warm they are

the more detailed a description about a character’s ghastly appearance, the better. i’m talking pale as fuck, feverish blush, sheens of sweat, the works

for some reason, in het ships, i like it better when the man is being taken care of because it shows a weakness they typically wouldn’t show if it goes against their character (thats why how lily stole christmas is my favorite episode of himym)

if we’re being honest, i adore sickfics where its like a father/son relationship (TALKING ABOUT IRONDAD SPECIFICALLY) the dad person taking care of the son person is so sweet

FAINTING. if a character faints, you have me hooked. bonus pts if they get FOUND like hours later and dont faint in front of their caretaker (but thats okay too)

vomiting is permitted. personally, ive only thrown up three times in my life and i dont have emetophobia so it doesnt bother me and tbh i think it makes the fic better

NIGHTMARES. OMG WHEN A IS SHAKING AND CRYING FROM A FEVER DREAM AND B IS LIKE ITS OKAY IM HERE YOURE GONNA BE OKAY JUST *chefs kiss*

this doesnt happen often in sickfics i see, but b watching a sleep? its actually v sweet and romantic

CUDDLING. when a is laying on b’s lap and b is running their fingers through a’s hair UGH

i like when sickfics start in the middle of the night and a is being taken care of in the dead of night

singing of lullabies or sweet songs, very comforting and heartwarming

when a is delirious out of their mind. bonus pts if u get a confession out of it or some sad shit a has been keeping to themselves slips out I THRIVE ON THEIR ANGST AND PAIN

when b finds out that a is sick and carries them to bed bc they cant walk right—something about it just hits different

BREAKFAST OR ANY SORT OF MEAL IN BED— bonus pts if b feeds a jfc im spiraling

if the sickfic ends with a getting better, ALWAYS say something along the lines of “the fever broke” bc for some reason i like that way of describing a fever being gone

appendicitis fics are awesome even though that SHIT HURTS (ive never had it but ive seen that episode of the cartoon madeleine where she got it)

i dont like sickfics where the character is terminally ill because I MAY WANT THEM TO SUFFER BUT NOT ETERNALLY

when b drapes a blanket over a sleepy/cold a like that shit is so fucking adorable—if they give a jacket, thats cool too

when b has to take home a from a date or something cause they’re sick and being a stubborn lil bitch

any sort of touchy-feely stuff in fics will earn a 10

BE DESCRIPTIVE AS POSSIBLE. DESCRIBE A’S CONDITION. DESCRIBE B’S DESPERATE ATTEMPTS TO NURSE THEIR TRUE LOVE TO HEALTH DAMMIT

also make sure a drinks hot tea with honey at some point cause tea is delicious (and better than coffee. no, i will not take that back)

sore throats?? um yes thank you

stomach flu? yes pls

a rough cough?? okay yes i need

descriptions of the eyes are something i usually dont mind not having in sickfics but if they’re there, you get bonus pts. its stuff like “fever bright eyes” or “glassy eyes” or “bloodshot eyes” that i LOVE

make sure a gets a cold icepack or a cold washcloth on their forehead like its tender the way it’ll be placed on a sleeping a’s forehead

a’s refusal to eat bc they are either whiny asf or just cant keep shit down

bonus pts if the reason a is sick is because they were wounded previously and the wound is infected in some way

MAKE THEM DIZZY, i always get dizzy when im sick

i said this already but it needs its own bullet point—make it a long oneshot—like i want a to be sick for like a week or so

the tucking of a into bed or helping a change into comfy clothes

okay i think im done for now, but SICKFICS UGH I LOVE THEM I WISH PEOPLE APPRECIATED THEM MORE. also its the only type of fic i know how to write without sounding horrible. but pls write or recommend sickfics they’re my weakness.

[stratospheric-strays]

after 3 1/2 hours i finally finished a game of solitaire and im completely exhausted from being on edge unable to complete it for so long

[overly-ironed-waffle]

alright so my husband woke me up the other week saying he felt like he might be getting sick, so I should start taking my immune boosting stuff just to be safe (cause I have a much weaker immune system)

then my youngest daughter went to bed with a cough around thanksgiving. woke up the next morning with a really bad phlegmy cough.

my oldest has been mildly congested but not too bad.

i started to feel sick around, idk, 11/29? maybe? it was just a few days after my youngest. it came on pretttttyy quick once it started to set in. 

two days ago i was in bed delirious, fever, just death. awful headcold. chest was meh but wasnt bad.

yesterday, head started to feel better, mild headache tho. but my chest was beginning to feel worse. every time i would move, i felt like i was gonna pass out. i kept crying cause i hated how my lungs felt (and then trying not to cry cause it obv made it so much worse)

today, my head feels totally fine but my lungs are still awful. if i don’t move, i think i feel okay. but as soon as i change position or get up to pee, i’m like “oh god what happened to being capable of breathing???” (i have weak lungs anyways, so being out of breath is not new for me but it’s not usually this bad.)

anyways, idk. i really don’t think i have covid, esp cause how weak my lungs and immune system are i have a feeling it would be REAL BAD for me if i did, kinda like when i had the flu for over a month and a half earlier this year.

buuuuuut i still have a test scheduled early next week, cause im supposed to start work soon and i figured it would be better safe than sorry, right?

idk. i feel like maybe im overreacting by scheduling one? i keep trying to tell myself its not that bad, but then i cant even get enough energy behind a breath to really talk, let alone scold my kids if they are misbehaving. i even haven’t had the strength or energy to be able to hold my senior (14+y/o) cat down to give him his antibiotics. so like, maybe it is kinda bad? but idk, it doesn’t feel like it cause my head is functional, i’m not feverish anymore (my temp is a LITTLE elevated; normally is around 97, and currently is at 98; so I feel warm but it’s prob fine), I can still taste which is a good sign (my sense of smell sucks anyways, so i can’t say much on that point), and my stomach is always fucked up, so it’s hard to say if any GI symptoms are related or not. its really just my lungs at the moment thats kinda like... blegh. and i have an occasional cough since my lungs feel thick/heavy.

also im super pissed cause somehow my test that i originally scheduled for monday, IN TOWN, got cancelled??? and luckily i went to check cause I forgot what time it was supposed to be, cause otherwise i wouldn’t have noticed. so i had to reschedule, but they didn’t have anymore on monday OR in town, so I had to schedule one for tuesday out of town. the idea of driving is so daunting rn, i dont even have the strength/energy to drive to the store across the street 😩

anyone who’s gotten tested, what should i expect? i can’t imagine it to be any worse than strep testing.

send tea & GF banana nut muffins pls.

[lilliansucks]

how bad is altitude sickness? my friend and i have booked our flights and were about to book Annapurna Base Camp trek but are seriously considering doing it by ourselves now but we are worried about getting too sick or lost, not knowing if we are sleeping at the right altitudes and shit. we are both pretty fit too? help us pls trek companies are fucking expensive but we don't wanna die :( xx !!

PLEASE DON’T BOOK IT THROUGH A COMPANY PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. I’m literally going back onto the blog post to edit it and add this in in capitals. so many people have messaged me asking about this, so i musnt have been clear enough. YOU DO NOT NEED A GUIDE. if you can travel and get from a - b you can do this trek. as long as you have a map and use maps me and just ask around beforehand to get an idea of where you need to go youll be fine. The path is ridiculously obvious from the second day onwards. the first day we got a little lost a few times but as long as you have a map youre fine. I can tell you right now how to deal with altitude sickness. It starts at 3000m so, in order to combat it you should stay at MBC the night before you stay at ABC or do the hike up to poon hill first (which is an extra 3 days and i regret not doing it) and you’ll aclimitise then. We were both very uncomfortable at ABC with headaches and blurry vision and we were a bit delirious but nothing that was going to kill us. the next morning when we left as soon as we had walked down for an hour we felt better. so dont let this worry you. PLUS as i said, just talk to the people around you. YOU CAN DO IT!!! its such an adventure and its so fucking cheap if you do it independently. do it for me!! and seriously if you have any more questions im happy to help !!

[hellavision]

liveblogging mama 2017

so here we are again

3rd time's the charm everyone i'm back and i'm better

let sgoooo

day6 are finally at the mamas, three years in the making and three years after me asking for it and they look. so good

wonpil, sweetie, who owns my heart

HANSOL go off babie !!!!

hansol sweetie :(((((

my boy

our boy !!! we love !!

i'm so glad he got to perform with dynamic duo i'm really proud of him !

grasp the mind ,??? artistic legends taemin and sunmi

fatal temptation ???? they didn't come to play

TAEMIN is hooked up and shirtless i don't know what i'm feeling there's just a lot of it

king of being. blindfolded

he's so talented !!!!!!!

he's so ethereal i want to bathe in his mind my guy

oh they lift him !! honey

this gal covering her eyes . me too

the light sticks

the blue lighting !! it's so beautiful

taemin is so beautiful

jongin. !!!

door is such a good song

SUNMI

i'm not ready. i'm not ready for sunmi and taemin to hand my ass to me

oh BITCH

she looks so good !!

this wo maaaaaan

choaaaa

can't nobody stop me now nAooo try me

glare into my  soul

this dress oh man

jongdae's lol smile

oooo there's a pause

TAEMIN

classy king

k i l l me

the point and shoot at each other and the glare WHO DO I LOOK AT

they're doing it for the bisexuals

what do i do

who am i

who are u

what the FUCK happened to namjoon's head

he looks like a damn fool

i'm so so happy spring day won i love it so much

yes cherry bomb

taeil jaehyun and doyoung look ffffine

taeyong n mark are v festive. nice

RED VELVET i am alive. i am breathing. my sinuses are open

they're so magical !! they're a dream

I WAS VITAMIN D DEFICIent until i heard red flavour

i've been saying heize wrong this whole time

i've been saying high-zz

heize looks so beautiful

first woman in four years to win that category i'm so happy for her !!

taemin !!!!!!

the fistbump awh

move was choreographed so beautifully and executed just as well i'm so happy he has recognition for that

the umbrellas are really really beautiful

come through soyou

the hat pushing chanyeol's ears forward !!!! he has my heart

soyou is a real life angel

ailee is another real life angel

i don't really go there but bolbbalgan4 seem really sweet and their vocal are really unique i'm glad for them

exo ls and army's are fighting ,,, why can't weeee be frieeeeends

guys like. i ult both exo and bts do you know how FUN it is get into it !! ur missing out !! i'm having such a good fucking time have some fun let loose enjoy urself it's just kpop x

i mean don't stan if you don't wanna stan i'm talking about the people who just hate one or the other for no reason

congrats to nct !!!

wow. i didn't know much about hyukoh at all but now listening to them , wow !!!

they're like ,,,, incendiary

definitely am going to listen to their entire discography later this performance was absolutely incredible it wa s so magical and powerful it really struck a chord (eh x) they're so good !!

this medley !!!! play it at my funeral !!

red velvet !!!!!!!!!!!

they've worked so so so hard this year and it's paid off i'm so proud and so happy for them aaaaa

truly what they deserved

i'm not letting bts accept the best asian style award when namjoon's head looks like that

it's peak

the rest of them though 11/10 solid yes x

wait

wai t

EXO

whaaaaat

OOOO

OOOOOOOOOO

JONGIN

i'm. overwhelmasfd

ohhhhh my goooood

baekhyun !!!!! kyungsoo!!!!!

my stream is starting to lag a tiny bit and NOW IS Not the time stay strong

SHIMMY SHIMMY ko ko bop

awoooooooooooo

jongin is so naked i'm overwhelmed

minseok !!!!!!!

break it down now

aaaa

we don't deserve exo or their dabs

OOOOOOOOOOOO

when jongin entered the light

he is so talented !!!!! he has total jurisdiction over this ass

:0 taemin !

kim jongin has rocked my world

take my house !! take my car that doesn't exist !!

i'm feeling every single emotion. i have transcended emotions

OH BITCH !!!!! power ?,, It's a party

power makes me so happy when i tell u i have a good fuckin time watching them perform it

‼️‼️ we take shots ‼️‼️

not @ kyungsoo's bolo tie. yeehaw

the exos own my heart

who flexed. who was it

oh nvm it was all of them

got7!!! 2young have my entire heart

jongin hugging sungwoon !!! bear !!

tuned out during wanna one and sujus performances to play tetris i'm sorry

oh bitch. it's time 4 bullet proof boy scouts

water earth fire air long ago the four nations lived together in harmony then everything changed when the fire nation attacked only the avatar

OOOOOO

i haven't heard not today in centuries

oooo !!!!!!

look at hoseok go !!!!

pop it lock it and polkadot it king !!

taehyung how daaaare u

now listen. jungkook , has a good face

yoongi's annoying ass is so hype i'm excited for cypher skskjsk

this is so cool

oh mic drop oh boy oh man o boy

big fat yes to these suits HOO

this TUDE from hoseok

namjoon looks like a goddamn clown i love and respect and appreciate you but the glasses and hair are not only ineffective but counterproductive to ur aim x

this .... d ance break

oh BItCH

bitch !!!

biiitch

well

i am. exhausted

:0 daesangs

what's happening what day is it

i'm still reeling

............

wEll

jimin taemin and jongin !! awhhhhh

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

they've had the most incredible year i'm so happy to see them smiling and hear them all talking they deserve it so much

:((( yoongi

"peace"

last year they were all so emotional and it's really nice this year to see them all so happy and excited and like. content u know

this is such a happy time like !!!

and now we wait to see how long it takes for someone to dig out the 19/03/2013 teamwork makes the dream work tweet

album of the year ! album of the year !

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa the exos !!!!!! our boys !!!!!

the war is SO good i'm so happy for them !!

junmyeon

wait. pcy is crying ???

oh noooooo don't cry :(((

did jongin just whisper in his ear ??? so much is happening

sehun is laughing what is going on

chanyeol tried to talk i :(((((( pls

babieeee

give him a hug

w ait is minseok crying ?????

he hasn't cried since 2013 i !!!!!

:(((

i'm gonna have an aneurysm

i'm so happy and so proud of and so full of love for exo !!!!!

our loud disney prince jongdae skskkskska

sehun is holding that man from suju's hands :(((( a giant babie

today is such a happy day !!!! daesangs for exo and bts i'm so proud of them both trials and tribulations lead to love and celebrations am i right chingus x

honestly they deserve it so much and i'm just so happy and content !!!

last year i said “[shinee] don’t even need to be at mama to end it. bye can u imagine how good kibum would have looked. what stops he would have pulled out. a shame”

this is all still true

until next year everyone , it's been real

(soz if i made no sense, im very deliriously sick lol)