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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 3 months

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By: Beth Bourne

Published: Feb 27, 2024

Kaiser gender specialists were eager to approve hormones and surgeries, which would all be covered by insurance as “medically necessary.”

On September 6, 2022, I received mail from my Kaiser Permanente Davis Ob-Gyn reminding me of a routine cervical screening. The language of the reminder stood out to me: “Recommended for people with a cervix ages 21 to 65.” When I asked my Ob-Gyn about this strange wording, she told me the wording was chosen to be “inclusive” of their “transgender” and “gender fluid” patients.

Based on this response, several thoughts occurred to me. Could I expose the medical scandal of “gender-affirming care” by saying and doing everything my daughter and other trans-identifying kids are taught to do? Would there be the type of medical safeguarding and differential diagnosis we would expect in other fields of medicine, or would I simply be allowed to self-diagnose and be offered the tools (i.e. hormones and surgeries) to choose my own gender adventure and become my true authentic self?

If I could demonstrate that anyone suffering from delusions of their sex, self-hatred, or identity issues could qualify for and easily obtain body-altering hormones and surgeries, all covered by insurance as “medically necessary” and potentially “life-saving” care, then maybe people would finally wake up. I certainly had.

I was prepared for failure. I wasn’t prepared for how easy success would be.

* * *

I am a 53-year-old mom from Davis, CA. My daughter began identifying as a transgender boy (social transition) and using he/him pronouns at school during 8th grade. Like several of her peers who also identified as trans at her school, my daughter was a gifted student and intellectually mature but socially immature. This shift coincided with her school’s sudden commitment to, and celebration of, a now widespread set of radical beliefs about the biology of sex and gender identity.

She “came out” as trans to her father (my ex-husband) and me through a standard coming-out letter, expressing her wish to start puberty blockers. She said she knew they were safe, citing information she had read from Planned Parenthood and the World Professional Association for Transgender Health (WPATH). To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I was also confused because this announcement was sudden and unexpected. While others quickly accepted and affirmed my daughter’s new identity, I was apprehensive and felt the need to learn more about what was going on.

Events began escalating quickly.

During a routine doctor’s visit scheduled for dizziness my daughter said that she was experiencing, the Kaiser pediatrician overheard her father using “he/him” pronouns for our daughter. The pediatrician seemed thrilled, quickly asking my daughter about her “preferred pronouns” and updating her medical records to denote that my daughter was now, in fact, my son. The pediatrician then recommended we consult the Kaiser Permanente Oakland Proud pediatric gender clinic, where she could get further information and (gender affirming) “treatment.” Now I was the one feeling dizzy.

As I began educating myself on this issue, I discovered that this phenomenon—minors, most often teen girls, suddenly adopting trans identities—was becoming increasingly widespread. It even had a name: rapid onset gender dysphoria, or ROGD. Thankfully, after learning about the potential side-effects of blockers and hormones, my ex-husband and I managed to agree not to consent to any medical interventions for our daughter until she turned 18 and would then be able to make such decisions as an adult.

Over the past five years, my daughter’s identity has slowly evolved in ways that I see as positive. Our bond, however, has become strained, particularly since I began publicly voicing my concerns about what many term as “gender ideology.” Following my daughter’s 17th birthday family celebration, she sent me an email that evening stating she would be cutting off contact with me.

While this estrangement brought me sorrow, with my daughter living full-time with her father, it also gave me the space to be an advocate/activist in pushing back on gender identity ideology in the schools and the medical industry.

I decided to go undercover as a nonbinary patient to show my daughter what danger she might be putting herself in—by people who purport to have her health as their interest, but whose main interest is in medically “affirming” (i.e., transitioning) whoever walks through their door. I am at heart a mother protecting her child.

* * *

My daughter’s sudden decision to become a boy was heavily on my mind in early September of 2022, when mail from my Kaiser Permanente Davis Ob-Gyn reminded me of a routine cervical screening with “Recommended for people with a cervix ages 21 to 65.” I was told that the wording was chosen to be “inclusive” of transgender and “gender fluid” patients.

Throughout the whole 231-day process of my feigned gender transition, the Kaiser gender specialists were eager to serve me and give me what I wanted, which would all be covered by insurance as “medically necessary.” My emails were returned quickly, my appointments scheduled efficiently, and I never fell through the cracks. I was helped along every step of the way.

Despite gender activists and clinicians constantly claiming that obtaining hormones and surgeries is a long and complex process with plenty of safety checks in place, I was in full control at every checkpoint. I was able to self-diagnose, determine how strong a dose of testosterone I received and which surgeries I wanted to pursue, no matter how extreme and no matter how many glaring red flags I purposefully dropped. The medical workers I met repeatedly reminded me that they were not there to act as “gatekeepers.”

I was able to instantly change my medical records to reflect my new gender identity and pronouns. Despite never being diagnosed with gender dysphoria, I was able to obtain a prescription for testosterone and approval for a “gender-affirming” double mastectomy from my doctor. It took only three more months (90 days) to be approved for surgery to remove my uterus and have a fake penis constructed from the skin of my thigh or forearm. Therapy was never recommended.

Critics might dismiss my story as insignificant on the grounds that I am a 53-year-old woman with ample life experience who should be free to alter her body. However, this argument for adult bodily autonomy is a standard we apply to purely cosmetic procedures like breast implants, liposuction, and facelifts, not “medically necessary” and “lifesaving” treatments covered by health insurance. Or interventions that compromise health and introduce illness into an otherwise healthy body. And especially not for children.

My story, which I outline in much more detail below, should convince any half-rational person that gender medicine is not operating like any other field of medicine. Based on a radical concept of “gender identity,” this medical anomaly preys upon the body-image insecurities common among pubescent minors to bill health insurance companies for permanent cosmetic procedures that often leave their patients with permanently altered bodies, damaged endocrine systems, sexual dysfunction, and infertility.

* * *

Detailed Timeline of Events

On October 6, 2022, I responded to my Ob-Gyn’s email to tell her that, after some thought, I’d decided that maybe the label “cis woman” didn’t truly reflect who I was. After all, I did have some tomboyish tendencies. I told her I would like my records to be changed to reflect my newly realized “nonbinary” identity, and that my new pronouns were they/them. I also voiced my desire to be put in touch with an endocrinologist to discuss starting testosterone treatment.

Fifteen minutes later I received an email from another Kaiser doctor informing me that my medical records had been changed, and that once my primary doctor returned to the office, I’d be able to speak with her about hormone therapy.

I responded the following day (October 7, 2022), thanking her for changing my records, and asking if she could connect me with someone who could help me make an appointment for “top surgery” (i.e., a cosmetic double mastectomy) because my chest binder was rather “uncomfortable after long days and playing tennis.”

She told me to contact my primary care MD to “get things rolling,” and that there were likely to be “preliminary evaluations.”

Six days after contacting my primary care MD for a referral, I received an email from one of Kaiser’s gender specialists asking me to schedule a phone appointment so she could better understand my goals for surgery, so that I could get “connected to care.” This call to review my “gender affirming treatment options and services” would take 15-20 minutes, after which I would be “booked for intake,” allowing me to proceed with medical transition.

This wasn’t an evaluation of whether surgical transition was appropriate, it was simply a meeting for me to tell them what I wanted so that they could provide it.

On October 18, I had my one and only in-person appointment in preparation for top surgery. I met in Davis with my primary care physician, Dr. Hong-wen Xue. The assessment was a 10-minute routine physical exam that included blood tests. Everything came back normal. Notably, there was not a single question about why I wanted top surgery or cross-sex hormones. Nor was there any discussion of the risks involved with these medical treatments.

The following week, on October 24, I had a phone appointment with Rachaell Wood, MFT, a gender specialist with Kaiser Sacramento. The call lasted 15 minutes and consisted of standard questions about potential drug use, domestic violence, guns in the house, and whether I experienced any suicidal thoughts. There were no questions from the gender specialist about my reasons for requesting a mastectomy or cross-sex hormones, or why I suddenly, at 52, decided I was “nonbinary.”

After the call, Kaiser emailed me instructions about how to prepare for my pre-surgery intake video appointment to evaluate my mental health, scheduled to take place on November 15. The email stated that prior to my appointment, I should research hormone risks on the WPATH website, and to “research bilateral mastectomy and chest reconstruction surgery risks and recovery” on Kaiser’s website.

I decided to request a “gender-affirming” double mastectomy and phalloplasty. Kaiser sent me a sample timeline for gender transition surgery preparation (see below) that you can use as a reference for the process. I also asked for a prescription for cross-sex hormones (testosterone) as needed and recommended by Kaiser.

[ Source: Kaiser Permanente, Top Surgery - EXPLORING YOUR SURGICAL OPTIONS ]

Pre-Surgery Mental Health Video Appointment, Part I

This “Mental Health Visit” assessment was conducted over Zoom. The Kaiser gender specialist started with questions addressing my marital status, race, gender identity, and other demographics. She asked whether I was “thinking of any other surgeries, treatments in the future.” The list she read included “gender-affirming” hysterectomies, bottom surgeries such as metoidioplasty and phalloplasty, vocal coaching, support groups, and body contouring. “Anything else you might be interested in doing?” she asked. I said that I’d perhaps be interested in body contouring. I was also assured that all the procedures would be covered by insurance because they were considered “medically necessary.”

I dropped in several red flags regarding my mental health to see the reaction, but all were ignored. For instance, I revealed that I had PTSD. When the therapist asked me about whether I had experienced any “childhood trauma,” I explained that I grew up in Mexico City and had been groped several times and had also witnessed men masturbating in public and had been grabbed by men in subways and buses. “I was a young girl, so [I had] lots of experiences of sexual harassments, sexual assault, just the kind of stuff that happens when you are a girl growing up in a big city.” “So, you know,” I finished, “just the general feeling that you are unsafe, you know, in a female body.”

The therapist did not respond to my disclosure that trauma could be the cause of my dysphoria. Instead of viewing this trauma as potentially driving my desire to escape my female body through hormones and surgery, she asked whether there is anything “important that the surgery team should be aware of” regarding my “history of trauma,” such as whether I’d be comfortable with the surgeon examining and marking my chest prior to surgery.

When asked about whether I had had any “psychotic symptoms,” I told her that while I had had no such symptoms, my mother had a delusional nervous breakdown in her 50s because she had body dysmorphia and became convinced she had a growth on her neck that needed to be removed. I told her that my mother was then admitted to an inpatient hospital for severe depression. I asked her whether she ever sees patients with body dysmorphia and whether I could have potentially inherited that from my mother. She told me that psychosis was hereditary, but that it was “highly unlikely” that there was any connection between body dysmorphia and gender dysphoria.

I enthusiastically waved more mental health red flags, waiting to see if she would pick up on any of them.

I’m just wondering if my feelings, or perseverating, or feeling like these breasts make me really unhappy and I just don’t want them anymore!...I’m just not sure if that’s a similar feeling to body dysmorphia? How do you decide which one is gender dysphoria and general body dysmorphia, and just not liking something about your body? Feeling uncomfortable with your body? And I did have an eating disorder all through college. I was a distance runner in college so I had bulimia and anorexia, you know. So I don’t know if that’s related to gender dysphoria?

The therapist replied, “I completely appreciate your concerns, but I am going to ask you questions about your chest, about your expectations. And then I’ll be able to give you an assessment.” She also said the main difference between my mom’s situation and mine was that my mom didn’t really have a growth on her neck, whereas it’s “confirmed” that I actually have “chest tissue.” Furthermore, she said that while “historically there has been all this pressure on patients to be like ‘Are you really, really sure you want hormones? Are you 100% sure?’ We are a little more relaxed.” She continued, “As long as you are aware of the risks and the side-effects, you can put your toe in the water. You can stop ‘T’ [testosterone], you can go back and do it again later! You can stop it! You can stop it! You know what I mean?”

Because we ran out of time, I scheduled a follow-up phone meeting on December 27, 2022 with a different gender specialist to complete my mental health assessment for top surgery.

Pre-Surgery Mental Health Video Appointment, Part II

During this meeting, Guneet Kaur, LCSW, another Kaiser gender specialist (she/her/they/them pronouns) told me that she regretted the “gatekeeping vibe” of the meeting but assured me that since I have been “doing the work,” her questions are essentially just a form of “emotional support” before talking with the medical providers.

She asked me about what I’d been “looking into as far as hormones.” I told her that I’d be interested in taking small doses of testosterone to counterbalance my female feelings to achieve “a feeling that’s kind of neutral.”

When she asked me about me “not feeling like I match on the outside what I feel on the inside,” I dropped more red flags, mentioning my aversion to wearing dresses and skirts.

I don’t own a single dress or a skirt and haven't in 20 years. I think for me it’s been just dressing the way that’s comfortable for me, which is just wearing, jeans and sweatshirts and I have a lot of flannel shirts and, and I wear boots all the time instead of other kinds of shoes. So I think it’s been nice being able to dress, especially because I work from home now most of the time that just a feeling of clothing being one of the ways that I can feel more non-binary in my everyday life.

She responded, “Like having control over what you wear and yeah. Kind of that feeling of just, yeah, this is who I am today. That’s awesome. Yeah.”

She then asked me to describe my dysphoria, and I told her that I didn’t like the “feeling of the female form and being chesty,” and that because I am going through menopause, I wanted to start taking testosterone to avoid “that feeling of being like this apple-shaped older woman.” “Good. Okay, great,” she responded, reminding me that only “top surgery,” not testosterone, would be able to solve my chest dysphoria. (Perhaps it was because all these meetings were online, they didn’t notice I’m actually fit and relatively slender at 5’-5” and 130 pounds, and not apple-shaped at all.)

She told me that we had to get through a few more questions related to my medical history before “we can move on to the fun stuff, which is testosterone and top surgery.”

The “fun stuff” consisted of a discussion about the physical and mood changes I could expect, and her asking me about the dose of testosterone I wanted to take and the kind of “top surgery” technique I’d prefer to achieve my “chest goals.” She told me that all or most of my consultations for surgeries and hormones would be virtual.

The gender specialist told me after the appointment, she would submit my referral to the Multi-Specialty Transitions Clinic (MST) team that oversees “gender expansive care.” They would follow up to schedule a “nursing call” with me to review my medical history, after which they’d schedule my appointment with a surgeon for a consultation. Her instructions for this consultation were to “tell them what you’re wanting for surgery and then they share with you their game plan.”

[ Decision-making slide to help me identify my goals for top surgery–flat chest, nipple sensation, or minimal scarring. Source: Kaiser Permanente, Top Surgery - EXPLORING YOUR SURGICAL OPTIONS ]

She told me that Kaiser has a team of plastic surgeons who “only work with trans and nonbinary patients because there’s just so much need for them.” She asked about my priorities for chest surgery, such as whether I value flatness over nipple sensation. I learned about double incision top surgery with nipple grafts, as well as “keyhole,” “donut,” “buttonhole,” and “Inverted-T” top surgeries.

By the end of the hour-long appointment, I had my surgery referral and was ready for my “nursing call” appointment.

Nursing call with Nurse Coordinator from the Transgender Surgery and Gender Pathways Clinic at Kaiser San Francisco

On January 19, 2023, I had my nursing call with the Nurse Coordinator. He first said that “the purpose of this call is just for us to go through your chart together and make sure everything’s as accurate as possible.” Once that was done, my referral would be sent to the surgeon for a consultation.

He asked me about potential allergies and recreational drug use, and verified that I was up to date on mammograms, pap smears, and colon cancer screenings, as well as vaccines for flu and COVID. I verified my surgical history as well as my current medications and dietary supplements.

He told me about a “top surgery class” available for patients where one of the Kaiser surgeons “presents and talks about surgical techniques and options within top surgery,” and includes a panel of patients who have had top surgery. I signed up for the February 8th class.

Within 10 minutes he told me that he had “sent a referral to the plastic surgery department at Kaiser Sacramento,” and that I should be hearing from them in the next week or two to schedule a consultation.

Appointment for Testosterone

On January 27, I had a 13-minute online appointment with a primary care doctor at Kaiser Davis to discuss testosterone. The doctor verified my name and preferred pronouns, and then directly asked: “So, what would you like to do? What kind of physical things are you looking for?”

I told her I wanted facial hair, a more muscular and less “curvy” physique, and to feel stronger and androgynous. She asked me when I wanted to start, and I told her in the next few months. She asked me if I was menopausal, whether I had ovaries and a uterus, although that information should have been on my chart.

The doctor said she wanted me to come in to get some labs so she could check my current estrogen, testosterone, and hemoglobin levels before starting hormones. Then “we'll set the ball in motion and you'll be going. We’ll see you full steam ahead in the direction you wanna go.”

That was it. I made an appointment and had my lab tests done on February 12. My labs came back on February 14, and the following day, after paying a $5 copay at the Kaiser pharmacy, I picked up my testosterone pump. That was easy!

Top Surgery Consultation

On the same day I received my labs, I had a Zoom surgery consultation with Karly Autumn-Kaplan, MD, Kaiser Sacramento plastic surgeon. This consultation was all about discussing my “goals” for surgery, not about whether surgery was needed or appropriate.

I told the surgeon that I wanted a “flatter, more androgynous appearance.” She asked me some questions to get a better idea of what that meant for me. She said that some patients want a “male chest,” but that others “want to look like nothing, like just straight up and down, sometimes not even nipples.” Others still wanted their chest to appear slightly feminine and only “slightly rounded.” I told her that I’d like my chest to have a “male appearance.”

“What are your thoughts about keeping your nipples?” she asked. “Are you interested in having nipples or would you like them removed?” I told her that I’d like to keep my nipples, but to make them “smaller in size.” She asked me if I’d like them moved to “the edge of the peck muscle” to achieve “a more male appearance.” I said yes.

I was asked to show my bare chest from the front and side, which I did. Then she asked me how important it was for me to keep my nipple sensation. I replied that it was important unless it would make recovery more difficult or there were other associated risks. She highlighted the problem with the free nipple graft, saying that removing the nipple to relocate it means “you're not gonna have sensation in that nipple and areola anymore.” However, some nipple sensation could be preserved by keeping it attached to “a little stalk of tissue” with “real nerves going to it,” but that would require leaving more tissue behind. I told her I’d go for the free nipple graft to achieve a flatter appearance. It was also suggested I could skip nipple reconstruction entirely and just get nipples “tattooed” directly onto my chest.

She told me I was “a good candidate for surgery,” and put me on the surgery wait list. She said that the wait time was between three and five months, but a cancellation could move me up to a sooner date. Also, if I wanted surgery as soon as possible, I could tell the surgery scheduler that I’d be willing to have any of the other three surgeons perform my mastectomy. Outpatient top surgery would cost me a copay of $100.

They contacted twice, in February and March, notifying me of cancellations. If I had accepted and shown up on those dates, they would have removed my breasts. This would have been less than five months from the time I first contacted Kaiser to inform them of my new “nonbinary” gender identity.

How Far Can I Go?

I decided to see how easy it would be for me to get approved for a phalloplasty. Known euphemistically as “bottom surgery,” phalloplasty is the surgical creation of an artificial penis, generally using tissue from the thigh or arm.

I sent an email on March 1, 2023, requesting to have a phalloplasty and concurrent hysterectomy scheduled alongside my mastectomy.

Two weeks later, on March 16th, I had a 16-minute phone call with a gender specialist to discuss my goals for bottom surgery and obtain my referral.

During the call, I explained to the specialist that I wasn’t sure about taking testosterone anymore because I was already quite athletic and muscular, and that taking testosterone didn’t make much sense to me. Instead, I wanted bottom surgery so that I wouldn’t feel like my “top” didn’t match my “bottom.” I told her:

But what I really wanted was to have bottom surgery. So this way when I have my top surgery, which sounds like it could be very soon, that I’ll be aligned, that I won’t have this sense of dysphoria with one part of my body and the other part feeling like it matched who I am. So yeah. So I just did a little bit more research into that. And I looked at the resources on the Kaiser page for the MST clinic and I think I know what I want, which is the hysterectomy and then at the same time or soon after to be able to have a phalloplasty.

I told her that I wanted to schedule the top and bottom surgery concurrently so that I wouldn’t have to take more time off work and it would save me trips to San Francisco or Oakland, or wherever I had to go for surgery.

None of this gave the gender specialist pause. After a brief conversation about some online resources to look over, she told me that she would “submit the referral now and we’ll get this ball rolling.”

Bottom surgery would cost me a copay of $200, which included a couple of days in the hospital for recovery.

Phalloplasty Surgical Consultation with Nurse Coordinator

On May 16, 2023, I had a short surgical consultation with a nurse coordinator to go through my medical history. This was similar to the consultation for top surgery but included information about hair removal procedures for the skin on my “donor site” that would be fashioned into a makeshift penis. They also went over the procedures for determining which donor site—forearm or thigh—was more viable.

After only 15 minutes, she submitted my referral to the surgeon for another surgical consultation.

On May 25 I received an email from my phalloplasty surgeon’s scheduler, informing me that they have received my referral and are actively working on scheduling, but that they are experiencing delays.

I ended my investigation here once I had the referral for the top and bottom surgery. I never used my testosterone pump.

Final Thoughts

In fewer than 300 days, based on a set of superficial and shifting thoughts about my gender and my “embodiment goals” triggered by the mere mention of “gender” in a form letter from my primary care physician, and driven by what could only be described as minor discomforts, Kaiser Permanente’s esteemed “multi-disciplinary team” of “gender specialists” was willing, with enthusiasm—while ignoring mental health concerns, history of sexual trauma, and rapidly escalating surgical requests—to prescribe life-altering medications and perform surgeries to remove my breasts, uterus, and vagina, close my vaginal opening, and attempt a complex surgery with high failure and complication rates to create a functionless representation of a penis that destroys the integrity of my arm or thigh in the process.

This describes the supposedly meticulous, lengthy, and safety-focused process that a Kaiser patient must undergo to embark on a journey to medically alter their body. No clinician questioned my motivations. No one showed concern that I might be addressing a mental health issue through radical and irreversible interventions that wouldn’t address my amorphous problems. There were no discussions about how these treatments would impact my long-term health, romantic relationships, family, or sex life. I charted the course. The clinicians followed my lead without question. The guiding issue was what I wanted to look like.

No other medical field operates with this level of carelessness and disregard for patient health and welfare. No other medical field addresses issues of self-perception with surgery and labels it “medically necessary.” No other medical field is this disconnected from the reality of the patients it serves.

Kaiser has traded medicine for ideology. It’s far beyond time we stop the ruse of considering “gender-affirming” interventions as anything approaching medical care.

This isn’t the first time Kaiser Permanente has been in the news for completely disregarding medical safeguards in the name of “gender-affirming care.” As girls, Chloe Cole and Layla Jane became convinced that they were born in the wrong body and were actually boys on the inside. Doctors at Kaiser ignored their underlying conditions and instead prescribed testosterone and removed their breasts. Both Cole and Jane have since detransitioned and are currently suing Kaiser.

The fact that children and vulnerable adults are being exploited in this massive ideological experiment is not just tragic; it’s deeply disturbing, especially considering it has evolved into a billion-dollar industry.

I hope that by sharing my story, I can bring more focused scrutiny to the medical scandal unfolding not just at Kaiser but also at medical centers and hospitals across the Western world. These institutions have completely abandoned medical safeguards for patients who claim to be confused about their “gender,” and I aim to awaken more parents and assist them in protecting their children.

This is completely insane.

Apologists online are running around saying, but she didn't mean it, she was lying, she was pretending...

It doesn't matter.

Any kind of security, penetration or integrity test is insincere too. When security researchers compromise Microsoft's operating system or Google's browser or whatever, "but they didn't mean it" is not a defence to a discovered security flaw. It doesn't matter that the security researchers didn't plan to steal data or money or identities. The flaw in the system is there regardless.

It doesn't matter that it was insincere. Because the workers didn't know that. They never checked, never asked questions, never tested. They had been taught and instructed to never ask any questions. They did what they were supposed to. And the system failed spectacularly. Because that's what "gender affirming care" means.

Additionally, the claim that Beth Bourne committed fraud is an outright lie. A patient cannot bill. They do not have the authority. The medical clinic is the only one that can bill, and they must supply a diagnosis and a medical necessity.

If they didn't diagnose her and just wrote down what she said, then they committed fraud. If they claim they did diagnose her, then they committed fraud, because the diagnosis they concocted was bogus. This, by the way, is actually going on. Clinics are reporting fake endocrine and other disorders to get blockers, hormones and other interventions. Jamie Reed and other whistleblowers have documented evidence of this. Beth Bourne is not responsible for what the clinic does. They have medical licenses and legal responsibility. Not her.

Additionally, anyone who actually read the article would know how she tested the system. She said things like, "I've always been not that feminine. So, maybe I get my boobs removed." And they said, "sure." Instead of saying, "wait, why do you think that?" Framing it as her lying is itself a lie. They violated their ethical obligations. That much is incontrovertible. And it's directly the result of "gender affirming care," where clinics and clinicians rubber-stamp anything deemed "trans" based entirely on ideological, not medical, grounds.

#Beth Bourne #undercover #undercover investigation #gender identity ideology #queer theory #nonbinary #non binary #top surgery #bottom surgery #double mastectomy #bilateral mastectomy #gender affirming care #gender affirming healthcare #gender affirmation #affirmation model #medical scandal #medical malpractice #medical corruption #religion is a mental illness

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homunculus-argument · 1 year

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I was born and raised American, but with everything that's happened over the past few years I've been considering moving to another country. but I don't know if this is just "the grass is greener". Not sure if this really fits with your blog, but as someone from Europe what's your attitude towards living in the US?

I've visited there a handful of times and most of my thoughts are "damn bitch, y'all really live like this?" People in Finland like to complain about the climate, the taxes, and how stingy the welfare systems are (if you currently rely on them) or how costly they are (if you're currently not relying on them), but honestly most of the time that's because people are used to having it so good, or don't really have a perspective of how bad everyone would be doing without the infrastructure that everything runs on.

Sure, nowhere is perfect, and there's always room for improvement, but honestly the people I've met in the US only really seem to think that their system is good because they've never been anywhere else and don't know any better.

Mostly it's stuff that you'd never think about if you hadn't been to both places, like being able to trust that tap water is drinkable or that you can safely walk/bike to wherever you need to go. The US really doesn't have the kind of ability to just hang out in public places, just walking to the town and sitting on benches. Having public parks and libraries isn't really the same if you can't just walk there, and you genuinely need a car to go anywhere.

I moan and lament a lot about how the winters here are hard to endure - at the darkest time of the year the sun rises at 9 and sets before 5 pm - but I wouldn't move from here just because of that, mainly because of how reliably everything is structured here. Sure, it's all run with funds from relatively high taxes, but that is a self-feeding loop on its own. The tax-paying workforce isn't a disposable resource that's wrung dry once and tossed out when it's broken, but even when you're just another cog in the machine, you're one that's maintained, not replaced if broken.

I had a lot of breakdowns when I was younger, largely due to depression and other mental issues I had due to the undiagnosed ADHD. When I started breaking down at work in my old factory job, they couldn't just fire me on the spot because of the workers' union fought tooth and nail to make sure that you can't throw people out for getting sick, and mental illness is treated no different from other health issues. I was allowed to take two years off work in order to study into a career I thought would fit me better. That didn't turn out well either, but I was still allowed to bounce back and forth between odd jobs, sick leave, and studying - all on government pensions during the spots when I wasn't working a wage - until I found the right diagnosis, the right medications, and the right job.

It's not a hyperbole to say that I owe my life to the ample and studry social welfare systems that Finland has in place. Sure, you're just another brick in the wall, a cog in the machine, but if you keep breaking down, it takes a long time until they completely give up on you if you can somehow make them believe that you're trying, because it's cheaper for the tax system to figure out how to make you fit into the machine than just toss you out. A human being is an expensive investment and if getting you to the right job, education, diagnosis, medication or even arranged housing is what it takes to get your ass back into the workforce, they'll at least try.

I'm perfectly happy to pay the taxes here to fund the system that helped me onto my feet when I was in no condition to function, and to support the people who never do recover, find their place, or be able to support themselves on their own. And I can live with the peace of mind that even if I fall apart again, that safety net is still there. It's brutal, pragmatic, and regards your health and welfare as a means to an end - to get you working and paying taxes again - but they still do prioritise your welfare. Cogs are cheaper to maintain than replace.

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leonstoenailunderhisbed · 2 months

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I just got out of my psychology class and I kept having thoughts about Leon and how his mind works. Here’s a psychoanalysis on Leon bc I truly do like how his brain works:

TW: mentions of mental illnesses, substances, substance abuse, suicide. (Guys- I am not a medical psychologist or a medical psychiatrist. This is strictly based on my psychology class, take this with a grain of salt.)

Leon suffers from Combat and Violence Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). This type of PTSD (because there’s subcategories) is most often common in veterans and in men.

More often than not, one can tell when someone’s suffering PTSD (flat voice, substance abuse, inability to sleep, change in personality, etc.)

Leon in RE2/RE2R didn’t necessarily show signs of PTSD until after the events took place. Leon was too busy trying to survive that his brain shut off the emotions he was feeling “in the heat of the moment.” He was scared but it was his survival instinct that allowed him (or the player) to move forward. Hence why I think he also suffered from Depression and Acute Stress Disorder (ASD).

ASD is commonly found in patients with PTSD, ASD is kind of like the first stage after a traumatic event took place. PTSD victims often find themselves having frequent panic attacks. I think it would be safe to assume that Leon in RE2/RE2R had several panic attacks during or after Raccoon City. I don’t think he’d go to therapy/psychiatrist/psychologist because in RE4R he stated that he immediately got called to the White House after he survived RC. And this is where I think it got worse.

RE4 and RE4R both portray very distinct Leon characters. One is more “fine” than the other in short words. Leon in RE4og doesn’t necessarily show signs of having mental issues but maybe he’s just good at masking them. Leon in RE4og often finds himself being very witty or very lean back. He’s less serious but I think it’s a coping mechanism. Up to that point in his life, he’s been in very serious situations that I think this is his way of gaining some of that control he lost when the virus first started. His brain is fighting battles of being in control or letting others control him. In this case- the situation is controlling him. He wants to have that sense of individuality and most of the time this is a coping mechanism. To gain back some of the things he’s lost in the process.

In RE4R, however (and I’m going to be very bold with this one), we don’t know much about how he feels. He is flat and his demeanor is distant to an extent. I’ve noticed a few changes to him from when he first started the game to where the player made it halfway. In the beginning of the game (when he’s with the two Spanish cops) he’s similar to RE4og- sarcastic and a little unserious. Which can be guessed as his normal personality. He doesn’t really show how much he’s actually been through with those two strangers. He’s got better things to worry about- he neglects his own issues. When he tries to find Ashley and he sees the zombies again- his PTSD gets triggered and it makes him be able to pull the trigger (aside from the player lol) There are few types of reactions when PTSD gets triggered and I think Leon’s reaction is a bit depressing.

When Leon sees these zombies again, his brain automatically jumps back to the memories of Raccoon City and almost immediately finds himself back in his former self’s shoes. But he doesn’t have time to linger, he forces those thoughts away and keeps going. I don’t think he wants to have time to think about what just happened because he’s often trying to keep his brain occupied “sorry, must’ve slipped” or any other phrase he says makes me believe that he’s just trying to make himself laugh (because believe it or not, laughter really does help with mental issues) or he’s trying to make the situation seem lighter. Or maybe he’s in denial, his brain hasn’t processed that the same thing that happened in RC is happening all over again. And when you’re in denial, you are repressed. Sigmund Freud said that repression is when someone turns something (trauma, thoughts, events, feelings) away. They deliberately choose to cast their thoughts and feelings aside. Leon bottles his emotions, it’s his defense mechanism. He doesn’t smoke (as mentioned in the game) nor does he drink (there’s a Reddit post that perfectly summed it up for me) He knows substances aren’t good for you and the fact that he’s against them makes me believe that he has other ways of dealing with PTSD such as exercise. I’m not saying this just because Leon looks very built, I want to think that maybe half the reason he works out isn’t just for his job. I think it also because it helps him mentally.

Mobility, sleep, and nutrition are the most important things to keep yourself mentally and physically healthy.

I’ll get on to RE6 because in that game, he pulled a 180 imo. RE6 Leon is more empathetic. He cares about the people that could’ve survived. He suffers from survivor’s guilt. After RE4/RE4R, Leon probably became more aware of his struggles and has tried to deal with them. He’s become more human, he’s allowed himself to feel human. He’s still the same serious guy with the flat effect but he’s becoming more open about his thoughts and feelings. I think the game is trying to hint at us that MAYBE he’s getting better. (Guys this is a stretch okay. RE6 is lowkey messy)

Now on to the films (I’ve done the liberty of researching a ‘order’ of when these may have taken place and not by the release date order so you guys won’t get confused):

ID Leon: He’s very compassionate in this one. He has a sense of self righteousness but I know why. He wants to make up for the losses of the people he’s seen die. He wants to fight against the corporation and wants to end the spread (submarine scene when he talks about RC) He wants to make up for what he couldn’t save. (Hence why he didn’t give Claire the chip- he wanted to protect her because he cares for her)

Degeneration Leon: Protection can only go a long way. Leon is more… assertive in his objectives, if you will. He’s back in his RE4 days in other words (any of the two games tbh, this Leon is complex) Leon wants to keep fighting for his cause. Not only is he forced to be a soldier for the government but he also has found a drive. All his pent up PTSD and trauma has shifted into something else. If no one could’ve been the hero then HE’LL be the hero himself, does that make sense?

Damnation Leon: Haha Russia go brr (sorry) Again, he’s become more chill. When he’s with JD, he’s funny but still cautious (bc let’s be honest, JD could’ve still shot his ass) nothing much to comment, I think he’s been consistent since Degeneration.

Vendetta Leon: NOW WE GETTING JUICY. This man- this Leon is the epitome of what a relapse does to you. Leon is seen drinking away his problems. He’s relapsed back into the mentality where his brain is finally processing everything. He’s even tried to attempt suicide- that’s how bad he got. His PTSD, his ASD, depression (bc you can’t tell me he didn’t have depression) it all came back to him and it made him feel shitty. He lost his power over himself, he no longer feels useful. He feels empty and broken. That’s sh he drowns himself in his own sorrows. Because he’s learned that if you drink until you pass out, you don’t dream. He doesn’t sleep- no. He’d rather black out because when you’re in an unconscious state, you don’t dream at all. You’re simply just lying there on the floor with your eyes closed. And that’s the feeling Leon wants to feel. He wants to forget everything for one minute and just calm down. And alcohol does that to you, that’s why people with PTSD become addicted to substances.

DI Leon: homeboy somehow got better (I’ve yet to watch DI lol) but from what I’ve seen, he’s definitely back to his “normal” self. He probably learned that maybe living life is the best thing. That if his attempt would’ve succeeded, then he wouldn’t have been able to live to his fullest. Regret makes people do a lot of things and I think Leon matured and learned.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #id leon kennedy #di leon #re2 leon #re4 leon #leon kennedy headcanons #leon kennedy angst #resident evil 4 #re4r leon #re2r leon #resident evil angst #re4 remake #re2 remake

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corollaservant · 13 days

Note

oh noooo kinks post is gone 😭😭

buddy, you lurkin? this was up for an hour 😳 jk jk—this was filthy, made me feel like i was too disgusting on the internet or shadowbanned. anyways yk what? here you go (cause it was fun to write) <3

(18+) MHA kinks (shiggy, overhaul, dabi)

cw: coercion/gaslighting, edging (lol?), s/m, asphyxiation(implied), kai's mysophobia (the correct term is microphobia but anyways)

Shigaraki: i think he’s into gaslighting and coercion and ik the latter doesn’t classify as a kink (more like an offense) but hear me out:

he brought you to that miserable bar the LoV hangs out in and can’t stop touching you, while you’re forced to sit on his lap. you love public, right? well, no and he knows. whether the LoV watches or not doesn't matter, he wants to see your attitude change, once you can't hide the fact he's fucking you over fabric anymore. his cock twitches, when he stops and you silently beg with your eyes. he'll tell you that he thought you didn't like this while you’ll apologize for even thinking that.

when alone, he’ll have you sprawled on the bed, parting your legs and asking you which you prefer, his fingers or tongue. you’ll brokenly breathe out a “fingers, please” as he’ll sneer and..oblige. he’s clearly skilled, his fingertips tease your cunt as if he’s strumming close chords on a guitar and fuck—you look pretty as shit watching him push them inside. ‘’so you’re saying that you don't like my tongue, yeah?’’ he’ll feign sorrow, you never said that but he makes you reflect on it. ‘’you know what i think? i think you’ll like my tongue just fine’’ he’ll tell you and start sucking on the swelled tiny nub as you tremble. ‘’actually.. you’ll like it more’’

once you shamelessly cum on his tongue exhausted, he’ll continue. ‘’ready for the main event?’’ he’ll ask as you beg him to at least wait a second, you ache down there but he obviously doesn’t care. ‘’there’s no time to wait..come on baby, you know it feels better the second time around.’’ he’ll tell you as his tip splits your folds. you ultimately consider that he might be right after all. actually, he’s never wrong.

Overhaul: this man has an edging kink.. before you say anything, it’s not what you think.

he’ll have you on that examination table (not heavy on his medical kink tbh), mask and gloves on, of course (what did you think? that he’d make an exception? the fact he’s even touching you is enough boundaries crossed for him). his gloved hand will spread your juices across your pussy, as he winces behind the bird mask. he hates dirt, bodily fluids, liquids, any bodily emission/discharge, call it whatever you want. the moment he senses your pulse and legs jerking, he’ll remove his hand in fear you might cum on his gloves. you’ll whimper upset but he doesn’t really care, you should thank him for allowing you this proximity in the first place.

same with sex. condoms with him is like the concept of gravity — self fucking explanatory. sometimes he’ll even use two. don’t get him wrong, it’s not like you are the problem, it’s more like your body, he feels like he purifies you each time he thrusts calculated in your cunt (he's delusional). he likes you being vocal as long as you don’t accidentally spit on him, which will earn you a slap.

to prove that the issue is not you, the man will not allow himself to cum inside you, even with the (2) condoms on. he just prefers transmitting the ‘filth’ directly onto you, which means he’ll have you pump his cock and receive all his load (wherever it lands, he makes sure it's angled towards you).

he's a weirdo of course, but he makes up for it in aftercare. he sterilizes you like there’s no tomorrow. if you’re lucky and you make him cum quick and clean, he might offer a cup of tea and your favorite snack.

Dabi: sadomasochism. i’ve seen both variations separately done for him before — i just think he’s both.

obviously he’s more into the first (sadism). will treat you like a potato sack, lifting you up without asking, throwing (literally throwing) you to the bed, not caring about where you’ll land and ripping/burning the fabric that clings onto you. assaults your cunt—spits on it and slaps the clit with his hands (sometimes too hard, it makes you cry).

facefucks you the minute you get a hold of his cock, he doesn’t even give you a second, he will grab your head and move it to an unforgiving pace. definitely a cheek slapper — needs to feel his dick in your gums from outside. he might pinch your nose shut and leave you with no airway to..survive. but it’s ok, you make it out alive.

has ropes and recently bought a leash and a collar. it’s red with a black handle and he uses it each time you talk too much. might get bored just holding the handle as he needs to touch (bruise) you, so he’ll hang it to the bed’s end and just pull at the steel. shoots his cum inside only when you're loud enough to make his ears ring. (rip neighbors, they're already considering moving out after they called the cops on him and he almost fried them)

until..

the thing is.. Dabi lives in the past, he doesn’t share his life with anyone so how is he supposed to not dwell on it by himself? has a lot of inflicted pain he can’t share but subconsciously craves. the first time you take liberty in causing him pain ever so little is accidental. you are on top, he’s setting the pace, sure, but your weight falls on his face as your arms enclose his neck. you’re not trying, hell, you don’t even know how to choke someone properly (why would you?) but you need to hold on to something and you think you’re imagining it when you hear a very soft moan. no, you’re definitely imagining it. it will cross your mind later on.

after that, you try to experiment in the territory, you’re in missionary and he thrusts inside you while you bring his neck close and squeeze again. this time you deliberately apply pressure as he hisses a fuck so.. you slap him. it’s a light, small smack on his cheek, again, you don’t want to piss him off but he groans, this time louder and you grin. you might end up slapping him harder the more the sex progresses, the staples hurt your knuckles but he’s making desperate (sexy) sounds.

he’s not gonna be descriptive since he is waay too embarrassed (you will never hear a ‘’shit, i love it when you cause me pain, babe’’) but you don’t care, his expressions tell you everything you need to know.

the next time you’re on top and test the waters, you grab the leash and collar from the nightstand and raise a brow. that’s how most of the communication flows, with mute understanding. he’ll huff in annoyance while his hips involuntarily buck up and he’ll mutter: ‘’shit, whatever.. get this over with.’’ breath already hitched as you adjust the buckle to his neck. safe to say you’re more than proud to see him fall apart, even if tears never spill from his eyes.

#shigaraki x reader #dabi x reader #overhaul x reader #mha smut #shigaraki headcanons #dabi headcanons #mha x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #chisaki kai x reader #dabi smut #overhaul smut #tw coercion #tw bd/sm

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skylarsblue · 1 year

Text

✦Incorrect C.o.D Quotes✦

(Bros I'm so sorry, I've had the biggest fucking writer's block. I'm hoping some silly lil meme posts will make up for it until I can write something substantial, I'msosorry-)

Y/N: Some of us, I don’t wanna name names, give me a headache when they speak and its- Soap: Is it me?? Y/N: No. Graves: Is it me? Y/N: …it’s not Soap- --

Price: I’m gonna make you a soup. Gaz, delirious with the flu: I don’t wanna be a soup, Captain… Price: …right, how about I give you soup instead? Gaz: That’d be nicer. Price: Right. --

Soap: What the fuck knuckles is this? Valeria: *holding her hyper femme gf in her lap* She’s my girlfriend you intolerant shit. Soap: Whoa! Pump the hate brakes Fox & friends. I’m just surprised anyone would date you. Especially Pinkie Pie from My Little Pony. Y/N, on Valeria’s lap: You know that cartoon? Soap: No comment. Ghost: No, I think you should comment more, Johnny. Soap: NO. COMMENT. Moving on! Gaz: We’re gonna circle back to that. --

Graves: I think the term you’re searching for is ‘current captain’. Ghost: The words I’m searching for, I can’t say. Because there’s a rookie *motions to Soap* present. Soap: No no, say it. I can handle it. Ghost: You sure? Soap: Absolutely, L.T. Ghost: *looks at Graves* Fucking donkey lookin’ muppet bitch. Soap: Brutal blow, sir. Well done. --

Y/N: *comes in* Hey, Gaz, how old is your captain? Gaz: What? Y/N: No not like that…it is, it is like that. How old is he? I came into base, he asked if I needed anything to eat. I said ‘eat what’? Gaz: Okay, first of all, put my plate down and stop hitting on my captain! Y/N: Don’t get mad at me! I don’t even wanna be here. Y’all the ones that want me to be here. --

NPC: Ohhh if I weren’t a lady, I’d deck you! Fem!Y/N: Oh please. Try it and I’d have you on your back so fast you’d think you’re on a date. Ghost: *spits tea* Price, covered in tea: That was so unnecessary- --

Ghost: Mmph. Y/N: Dark room, avoidant, you seem tired despite sleeping for awhile…you wanna try and get out in the sun or do you just need to be in the sadness dungeon? Ghost: *holds up two fingers* Y/N: Would you like some tea for the sadness dungeon? Ghost: …Mhm. Y/N: Tea for the sad dragon coming up! Ghost: Mmph. (Aka “thank you”) Y/N: No problem! --

Y/N: Ya know sometimes there’s times in life where you just have to sit back and go, “ya know what? I’m proud of myself.” Gaz: Is this one of those times? Y/N: No- Soap: *wheeze* --

(Shibari reference)

Price: …alright, when I said we needed to restrain him in a way that ensured he couldn’t get out. This is not- Gaz: These are not military knots. Y/N: No, they aren’t. You all suggested knots that he would know how to get out of. You told me to get rid of that possibility. So, I did. Soap: He is tied…to the ceiling. Ghost: You kinky bitch. Y/N: *shrug* Price: Where did you even learn this? Y/N: That is for me and my daddy issues to know, sir. Don’t worry about it. Just wake him up so we can start interrogating him.

Graves: We can rule the world! Ghost: *turns to leave* Graves:: *watches him pull out something of Y/N’s* Graves: WH-YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO FUCK MY WIFE Graves: GHOST. G H O S T Ghost: *leaves* --

Graves: Let me log into Twitter- WAIT, IS THAT GHOST’S DICK!?! Ghost: I fucked your wife. Graves: AGGHHHHHH- --

Medic!Y/N: Don’t torture yourself Ghost. *snips bandage* Medic!Y/N: That’s my job.~ Ghost, internally: Stayfocusedwecannot- --

Price: We’re you listening to me at all? Y/N: No I was fantasizing about beard burn. Price: Pardon? Y/N: Huh? --

Ghost: He died of natural causes. Gaz: You pushed him off the roof. Ghost: Gravity is natural. --

Y/N: Nuh Uh, no. I’m not doing it. I have self respect, and I will not stoop so low as to- Gaz: *brings out 100£.* Y/N: -oooooo*takes money* I’ll have it done in an hour. --

Soap, looking at Konig: That man is a tree. Y/N: Then I'm a fucking squirrel. Soap: On the hunt for nuts then? Y/N: Famished for them. Ghost: Why do I sit with you two...

#call of duty #simon riley #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #konig #cod konig #john price #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #gaz mw2 #phillip graves #valeria el sin nombre garza #incorrect cod quotes #incorrect quotes #modern warfare 2 x reader #modern warfare

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sweatervest-obsessed · 10 months

Text

Dedicated To New Lovers

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (she/her pronouns)

WC: ~5.5k

TW: Murder, Angst, Character Death, guns, violence, blood, swearing, depression, mentions of disordered eating, mentions of insomnia, self-deprecating thoughts, loneliness, heartbreak, Mentions of Emily's death, the grieving process, drinking, screaming, crying, sobbing, throwing up, being under pressure

A/N: This is based on s8 ep12, Zugzwang. It deviates slightly but still makes Spencer sob so it could basically be canon. Obviously, or maybe not to some people, this fic is based off of Night Shift by Lucy Dacus. It's been my obsession for the past couple weeks and I simply just had to write something for it. Now my one issue is, besides me ignoring editing it, is that I hate when things don't end happily, but I'm breaking out of the mold of everything ending with a nice neat little bow, so please enjoy! (well as much as you can for such a depressing fic lmao).

"Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life alone ---We find it with another." ~Thomas Merton.

“Thank you for such a wonderful night.” You murmured, pulling away from the kiss, hands on their chest. “I really enjoyed it Spe—”, you coughed and blinked a couple of times, catching yourself. “Especially,” You clutched your chest, smiling up at them, “Sorry I don’t know where that just came from.”

The lips you had just kissed had shifted into a concerned smile, but was none the wiser.

“Especially dessert. I loved the pie place, you were so right! The apple was just perfectly seasoned, and the crust was still crumbly.” You leaned up and kissed their cheek again.

“I’ll see you again, yeah?” You whispered, before turning around and heading into your apartment building, not waiting for a response, smile falling the second you weren’t looking at them. You buzzed yourself in and quickly walked up the four flights of stairs towards your door.

You fucking hated pie. Well that wasn’t true, but you didn’t really want to spend your evening going and getting pie with someone you really weren’t that into.

You couldn’t help but wonder why everything was wrong. They were kind, and sweet, and cared so much for you, but it just wasn’t the same. Your heart was just not in the place, and not a single butterfly fluttered around in your stomach, you couldn’t figure out what was wrong with you.

Well that was a lie too. You knew exactly what was wrong.

“I’m fine, it’s fine.” You mumbled, getting your keys out and unlocking your front door, grabbing the mail off of the mat, and closing the door behind you.

The boxes stacked precariously around your place just left you feeling more and more destitute on this island of loneliness. God you were so fucking dramatic. You dumped the roses they had given you, and your purse onto the kitchen counter, and went straight for the fridge, grabbing the bottle of Prosecco. The cork popped, and you took a swig straight from the bottle.

Your phone rang, and you pulled it out of your pocket, sighing and answering it.

“Hey Em.”

“Wow, was it that bad of a date?” Emily laughed a little. She had been concerned about you, the whole team had been concerned about you. Her death had hit you and Spencer the hardest. You had become fast friends with Emily, regardless of the fact that when she joined, you were the youngest, and newest on the team as well. The two of you had become fast friends, and even faster sisters. She was your everything. She was there for your father’s death, the start of your relationship with Spencer, the harder cases, the bitching, the girls nights, the everything. But you had run into the warehouse, and saw Derek cradling her hand, screaming for a medic, and you just lost it. Your brain went into overdrive, rendering you useless. When JJ walked into the waiting room and told all of you the news, you sat there, shocked. Spencer had tried to go see her, but you had just excused yourself and walked out to the parking lot. It was devastating. You were allowed back from leave a week later than everyone else because Hotch knew you needed more time. So when she walked back into the round room, alive and well, your barely pieced together mind completely shattered all over again.

You watched for seven months as Spencer let you grieve alone while running off to JJ’s house for comfort. You had sat alone in your shared apartment becoming more and more of a shell of a person, not really eating, sleeping, or even drinking water; you were barely existing. Five years of a relationship washed away because that first night, instead of comforting each other, Spencer had abandoned you at the hospital, forgetting to even drive you home. Then, when his headaches got, he pulled even further away, only hearing snippets of how he was doing from those on the team who didn’t even live with him.

The team could only watch as you slowly became a ghost of yourself, while Spencer couldn’t even give a shit to notice.

The first time he mentioned Maeve to you, it was like a stake in your chest. You had caught him talking to her when you had come back early from the therapy Hotch had almost threatened you at gunpoint to go to. He quickly hung up the phone and mentioned that she was his doctor, helping him with his headaches. But you knew better. You had heard him laughing before you walked into the apartment. You hadn’t heard him laugh since before Emily had “died”.

Then, one night, he told you it was over. I don’t love you anymore.

You just sat there, chest caving in on yourself.

Since this was my place first, uh…I can give you a couple of weeks to find a place, and I’ll even sleep on the couch…

His words bounced around in your head before Emily said your name. “You disappeared on me.”

“Shit-uh, shit. Sorry Em.” You shook your head, and pinched your brow. “They were really lovely Em, just the best. But I’m just not ready.”

Emily sighed, “I know it’s only been four months but I’m proud of you, I really am. For even going out in the first place. Want me to come over, bring a new bottle of prosecco.”

You laughed, but it had no substance. “How’d you know I was almost out of Prosecco.”

Emily sighed. “I know you’re a grown woman who can handle living alone, but Sergio and I wouldn’t have minded if you stayed with us for a couple more weeks.”

“And I know that, and I love you so much for it, but the only way I’m ever going to be able to…” the words got stuck in your throat. “I, um. I had to.”

Emily sighed, but understood. “Okay, well, if you need anything, I’m a phone call away, or a block away, whichever is faster for you.”

“Thanks Emily. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that you hung up the phone, not wanting to prolong the conversation any more than it had.

“Fucking Maeve.” You grumbled to the living room before taking another swig from the bottle. You barely slept these days. Your date this past night? The first time you had eaten a full meal in over two weeks. Your skin was a little more gaunt, and the concealer you were using was working overtime to hide the bags under your eyes. You were once someone filled with so much joy, and so much love to give. Everyone knew you were a touchy person, always giving hugs, touching people’s arms, squeezing their hands; if someone tried to touch you now, your whole body would tense up, your stomach would flip. Eventually, after finishing off the bottle, you fell into a restless sleep on the couch of your apartment, since you didn’t want to sleep alone in your own mattress, dreaming about the fact that someone else was probably in the one you bought with Spencer all those years ago when he asked you to live with him. ------------------------------------------------------------------------

The office went silent as you walked into work the next morning. You were always one to arrive early, make your coffee, visit Penelope in the Bat Cave, stop by Hotch and Rossi’s offices and wish them a good morning. But these days you walked through those glass doors exactly at 9 am, unless you were called in.

It was masochistic to still work at the BAU, but it was one dream you weren’t going to let Spencer take away from you. But as you walked into the bullpen, and all heads turned towards you with such pitiful looks, you doubted whether you belonged here anymore.

Before you could place your bag down, Aaron walked over to you and quietly asked if you would come into his office. You obliged, a sinking feeling in your gut, as you followed Hotch, while the eyes of everyone else followed you.

As Hotch opened the door, you froze. Spencer was sitting on the couch, trying to wipe away the tears in his eyes. He clearly also hadn’t been sleeping, but you knew those tears weren’t for you. You stayed in the doorway until Hotch gestured to one of the chairs along the side of his office. You moved away from the door, but stayed standing, refusing to sit down. Hotch closed the door, trapping you in his office with someone you hadn’t spoken more than necessary to in over four months.

“Do you want to tell me why I'm here.” You asked calmly, trying to ignore the desperate man on the couch, who was just staring down at his feet.

“I am going to ask you to sit out this case.” Hotch looked at you, not sitting down either, ready to calm down whatever fight you’re about to put up.

Your eyes narrowed at your section chief and you scoffed. “You better have a seriously good explanation Hotch because as I’ve told you many times before, I’m doing fine. I don’t know what has been said, but I’m perfectly capable at—”

“I asked him if you could sit out.” Spencer’s voice was hoarse, but solid as he looked at you.

You closed your eyes and flexed one of your hands, resisting the urge to punch him in the teeth.

“Since when do you know what’s best for me, Doctor Reid.” It took all of your control to stay civil and not curse him out in front of your boss.

“That’s not it.” Spencer licked his lips but he quickly averted his gaze. “T-The case. It’s um. It’s about Maeve and I–”

Your heart dropped. Bile started to rise in your throat. “oh.” You had never felt so small in your life. Tears were forming in your eyes. “I’ll be right…I—”

You barely even finished the thought before you opened the door, and quickly walked out of Hotch’s office. No one even tried to pretend that they weren’t watching Hotch’s office. Emily and Derek shot up off of their desks and immediately went to follow you as you sped down the stairs and through the bullpen. Hotch just looked down at his feet while Reid just rubbed his hands over his eyes.

You shoved through the doors, accidentally bumping into Penelope on the way out, causing her to drop the files and coffee mug in her hand. It shattered on the ground, but you couldn’t stop to apologize. You needed to be in the bathroom before you became the agent who threw up all over the halls because of some stupid broken heart.

Emily had quickly helped Penelope pick things up, the two exchanging hushed whispers and looks. Derek had apologized to Penelope while he ran past, catching up to you with every stride. You shoved open the door to one of the woman’s rooms, Derek right behind you.

Luckily for you, it was empty, so you could continue running to the biggest stall, before dropping to your knees and throwing up. It burned your throat and your eyes, stinging every inch of skin as it rose up your throat and into the toilet in front of you.

Derek had pulled back your hair, and was now sitting down next to you as you dry heaved into the toilet. You only threw up actual substance one more time, but it was just that stupid fucking apple pie and the Prosecco from the night before. There was nothing else in your stomach to throw up, so your body settled for making you gag continuously.

“Fuck.” You cried into the toilet, letting yourself fully devolve into the mess you were destined to become this morning.

Derek just rubbed your back, “It’s okay pretty girl, let it all out.”

“Derek Morgan I think I am the ugliest son of a bitch right now.” You mumbled, reaching up and flushing the contents down the drain, tears still racing down your face. “I can’t fucking—” You tried to breathe in but your body was shutting down. That’s all it seemed to do these days. It felt like the only way to protect yourself anymore. “He–”

“I know.” He whispered softly, offering you some toilet paper to let you wipe off your face, as you leaned back, away from the toilet.

That’s when the first sob wracked your body. Maybe you weren’t meant to be on this team anymore. Spencer had been here longer. You were only an asset to the team because of your positive attitude which left your body the second Emily Prentiss was pronounced dead in that waiting room. You were the definition of useless. I mean, Derek and Emily were partners, Hotch and Rossi had everything down pat, and Spencer, even when you were dating, was truly partnered with JJ most of the time. You were the odd man out, and you were fucking useless.

Derek had pulled you into his chest, hugging you as the sobs continued. His heart was breaking for you. No one on the team really knew what had happened that night, all they knew was that you didn’t come in one day, and then when you did the next, you looked like shit. All while Spencer seemed fine. Then, when your desk was moved to the opposite side of the bullpen, it confirmed any and all guesses the profilers had been making. You were never paired with him on cases anymore, and if you were, there was always a third person. You barely looked at one another. Spencer’s scarf had reappeared on his desk one morning, and suddenly you were no longer staying in the same hotel rooms. Derek just kissed your head as you let your body give up.

He wasn’t stupid. Like everyone else, he had noticed the way you had been losing weight. He had noticed the amount of makeup you had started to wear. He even realized that he hadn’t seen you eat any meals with them in the past couple months while they were out on cases. But what he hadn’t fully realized was the fact that you were dead, inside and out. There was nothing left of you but the barely alive body he was holding.

Spencer had really gotten a good look at you for the first time in a very long time. He had already felt guilty about the fact that he had Maeve, and that you had broken up he had broken your heart. But what he had failed to realize was the same thing Derek had–You were someone entirely different, a ghost of yourself. The guilt was gnawing through his stomach when he told Hotch what was going on, and he had begged Hotch to let you sit out, trying to save you from this, but clearly Spencer couldn’t do anything right for you anymore, he hadn’t been able to in a very long time. Hotch had cleared his throat while Spencer shook his head. “I-I tried Hotch, I really didn’t want…”

He just nodded at Spencer. “I know Reid, but you must have known there was no way this conversation was going to go any better than that.”

Reid just nodded, and stood up, going out into the bullpen, not missing the way all of their eyes snapped to him, as Penelope dumped her broken mug into the trash.

Before anyone could say anything, Hotch walked out of his office and looked at everyone. “As you all could have guessed, Agent Y/L/N will not be joining us on this case. I expect everyone in the conference room in ten.” and with that, Hotch walked past Reid, and down the stairs, out towards where he had assumed you had run off too.

Spencer just stood on the stairs, watching Hotch walk to you, wishing it could be him to hold you in his arms.

Hotch opened the door to the women’s bathroom, and saw Derek cradling you. As you heard the door open, your body had tensed up and all of your tears had stopped. Derek and Hotch shared a look before Hotch kneeled down.

“Sorry Aaron.” You mumbled, trying to wipe away the remaining tears on your face.

“Don't apologize. Take the next couple of days off. Penelope might call and ask you a question or two, if she manages to forgive you for breaking her third favorite coffee mug…”

You laughed slightly at his joke, trying not to let it cause you to cry even more, wiping away more tears.

“But I expect you don’t need me to tell you this is an order.”

You nodded at Hotch while you stood up, Derek quickly following suit. “We’re meeting in ten.” He nodded at Derek, who took the hint. He squeezed your arm, and kissed your head, whispering to call him if you needed anything, before leaving just you and Hotch alone in the bathroom. He held up your purse and gave you a sympathetic smile.

“I am only a phone call away Y/n. If anything happens, I want to be the first to know.” He nodded at you, only for you to pull him into a hug. Hotch smiled slightly, because you hadn’t really hugged anyone for a while, so he quickly reciprocated before pulling away. “Hotch, can I ask you one more favor?”

“Anything,” He said softly.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once he had left, You grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and tried to wipe as much of the mascara track marks off. You eventually just wiped off your whole face of makeup. You stared at yourself, realizing just how fucked you were. Eventually, you had made your way out of the bathroom, and past the bullpen. Everyone was piling into the conference room, but Spencer had stopped to watch you enter the elevator, really looking at you. You made eye contact right as the doors started to close. Spencer’s gut twisted at the forlorn look on your face. But before he could do anything, the doors were closed, you were gone, and his name was called by Hotch. -------------------------------------------------------------------------

According to the updates from Emily and Derek, the case was not going well. You knew very little about it, and you wanted to keep it this way, but you knew this case wasn’t going to end well. You could just tell.

You had been existing in your own apartment, making frequent trips to Emily’s to keep your favorite cat company. You would go on long walks as the sun set, nowhere truly in mind, just wandering around trying to think about anything else. You would listen to your music, trying to take your mind off of the man who you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since you first joined the team. It could have been yesterday based on how well you remembered it.

But instead of wallowing, you tried to at least wallow in public, resolving to minimize the sheer amount of pity parties you had been throwing yourself.

Three days later, you had been walking around aimlessly, just trying to hit your new goal of 10,000 steps a day to start being active again, when your phone rang. You had answered it without a thought in the world since usually it was Derek, Hotch, and Emily on the other end.

But this time, it was none of them.

“Hello?” Spencer’s entire body froze once he heard your voice, once he knew that Diane knew who you were.

“I just want her to see one more thing.”

“Hello?” You asked again, just about to hang up, thinking it was some sort of prank call when a woman spoke to you.

“Is this Doctor Y/N Y/L/N?” Maeve looked over at Spencer, confusion and horror in her eyes, while Spencer just stared at the phone, willing for you to hang up.

“Um, yes? May I ask who this is…”

“My name is Diane.”

“Um, okay, Diane. Can I ask why you’re calling me.” You had just walked into your apartment, Spencer could hear the unfamiliar creek of the door as it slammed shut.

“What do you know about Doctor Maeve Donovan.”

Your whole body froze. “What?” barely even whispering out your response.

“What do you know about Maeve.” Her temper exploded, and you just sat there trying to breathe.

“Wh-what do you want to know about her?” You had taken several courses in negotiation, taught by David Rossi himself, so your training started to kick in, but your panic was fighting strongly against it. You just couldn't bring yourself to say her name.

The team was outside of the building, when Garcia had called and tapped them into the phone call Diane was making. When they heard your voice, all of them froze. This was not what she was supposed to do. How the hell did she even know about you?

“I want you to tell me about how she ruined your life.”

Spencer tried to speak but Diane pointed the gun at Maeve, making him go silent. Maeve had started silently crying, unable to believe this is what her life had become.

“I–, You want me to tell you about some woman I have never met?”

“Yes yes yes. Why won’t any of you fucking listen.” You recieved a text on your watch, from Hotch, briefing you on the fact that Diane had both Spencer and Maeve hostage in the warehouse she was calling from.

You took a shaky inhale before biting your lips. “I want to know that they’re both okay Diane. I need to hear both Spencer and M..Maeve speak.” God this was so fucking hard, it hurt so fucking badly.

Diane rolled her eyes before nodding at Maeve. “H-hi.” She whispered. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t—” she was cut off but the barrel of the gun pushed against her head.

All you could do was clutch your fist while she spoke, because you realized you couldn’t be angry at her for falling in love with Spencer, because you had too.

“And Spencer?” Your voice cracked out, desperate to hear his voice.

“Go on Spencer. Tell her you’ve been okay without her.”

Spencer winced and spoke up, dying for you to just hang up the phone. “I’m here Y/N.”

The way he said your name made you want to curl up into a ball and die, but it wasn’t good enough for Diane.

“Not good enough Spencer. Tell her how you ruined her life. She deserves to hear it from you since you broke her just like you broke me for loving the ONE WOMAN I DESERVED TO BE LOVED BY.”

Spencer heard the sharp intake of your breath. He could hear you trying not to cry. After everything, he never wanted to hurt you, but clearly he had fucked himself over and over with every single decision he made. He knew you knew he was playing along with her fantasy, but he knew that you hearing these words would ruin your life more than any gunshot would.

“Tell me Spencer.” You breathed out, knowing if he continued to play along, maybe he could make it out of this alive, regardless of everything that had gone on between the two of you.

“Please.” Spencer turned to Diane. “She has nothing to do with this, let her hang up the ph–”

“If she hangs up, I shoot Maeve and let you watch as she dies.”

And there it was. There was a small, awful part of you that wanted to hang up the phone right then and there. Let him suffer and feel the pain you had been feeling for months and months. Your silence was enough to let Spencer know you were struggling, which hurt him even more because that same small part of him knew he deserved it, forgiveness for you and all.

The team listened to the silence, some of them waiting for the dial tone, others grieving the shit you put yourself through just for someone who didn't love you anymore.

“Would you rather I tell you how he ruined my life, just like he did yours?” You breathed out, finally saying something. The entire SWAT team, along with your team was listening in, everyone was waiting with bated breath to hear--everyone wanted to know.

Prentiss looked over at Hotch. “Hotch we can’t let her do this. It…”

But Hotch just shook his head. “If we hang up the phone, Maeve dies, and if nobody complies with Diana, both Spencer and Maeve die.”

Rossi spoke up. “You have to trust her, she’s negotiating. She’s buying us time. Whether or not we should be listening to this is the real question.”

All of them went silent after that, a decision had been made.

Diane’s face twisted into a smile. “I’d love too.”

You closed your eyes and let out a shaky breath. “D-Do you know what it’s like, Diane, to walk into work every morning and have every single person who promises you they care about you over and over and over again just stare at you like you're some sort of wounded puppy? Watching as they handle you like a glass figurine that they all feel responsible for breaking, and yet the one person who threw you against the wall doesn’t even notice.”

Diane huffed, but she nodded. ”Keep going.”

“Do you know how long we were together?”

Spencer couldn’t decide who the question was for.

“Tell me Spencer. Tell me how many days of her life you threw away just to love someone who you’ve never met before..”

He couldn’t look at Maeve. He couldn’t look at Diane. Your heart had given out right then and there, they had never even met in person. He had fallen in love with a woman he'd never seen before.

“Tell her Spencer.” You voice came out harsher than intended, your resolve was gone, but it made Diane smile even more, becoming comfortable with the taste of venom in your mouth.

His voice wavered. “Five years, two months, nine days, and three hours.”

You let out something resembling a controlled sob, which had Diane’s smile growing by the second. Maeve just stared at him, and Spencer couldn’t tell if she was horrified or upset or just sad.

“You threw away over five years worth of love, to ruin my relationship?”

“Diane.” You said suddenly, trying to get her attention back off of the two people she was holding hostage.

“What.” She was starting to become irritated, ancy, waving the gun around more.

“Want to know the worst part about it.”

“If you tell it to me quickly because I’m running out of patience Y/N.”

“He’s making me transfer departments.”

Your big secret was out.

“What.” Spencer breathed out, the shock spread across his face. He couldn’t imagine the bullpen without you, and when he wasn't on the phone with Maeve, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. The days where you weren’t near him went by torturously slow, and all he could do was hope that you might look at him again, let him apologize, let him fix this. Diane watched as the pain flashed across Spencer's face, enjoying it.

The team all turned to Hotch, hoping that she was bluffing. But Hotch just looked down at the ground, confirming the awful truth.

“I just finished putting in my transfer today.” You didn't know who you were explaining it to–the team, to Diane, or to Spencer, maybe all of them.

“Being around him, knowing he doesn’t lo—” You went silent for a second before switching gears. “This was my dream.” Your lips started talking, and everyone listened intensely. “I trained specifically for the BAU. I got three Bachelors in worthless shit so that the FBI would spike its interest in me so that I could get into the academy and prove myself to Agent Hotchner. Prove myself to Jason Gideon. Then I went and got a PhD in Psychology with focuses in Trauma and Forensic Sciences. And I fucking loved it. I had finally proven to myself that maybe, just maybe, I was good enough. I finally found a place I belonged, with the people I belonged with. And I was so fucking good at my job Diane. You wouldn’t even comprehend it. But he took all of it from me. Every last bit of joy was sucked out of my body the minute he told me he didn’t love me anymore. The minute he didn’t even apologize for breaking my heart and ruining everything I worked so hard for. And then he still expected me to be at my best, getting pissed when I would be distracted, disrespecting me and my intelligence in front of our peers, our friends. He neglected our relationship, abandoning me when I needed him the most, and then expected me to love him all the same. The audacity is through the fucking roof.”

Spencer was just staring at the phone, heart beating loudly in his chest. “And the honest to god truth Diane, the worst part of it all, I would forgive him in a heartbeat. I don’t even know why I would, I feel no fucking reason to forgive him, but I might as well. If he asked me to greet him on the tarmac and kiss him once this case is over and he survives, I might, just so I can remember how it felt to be loved. He barely noticed that I had stopped eating, or didn’t care enough to say anything. He didn't do shit when I would show up half an hour late to the jet because I was so exhausted that I fell asleep at my desk, because I haven’t slept in months. He just doesn’t care anymore and I’d rather die than step foot into Quantico again because losing him was already too much to fucking bare. I’d rather never see him ever again, if I can help it.”

You exhaled, feeling the slightest weight off of your chest, but your words were calculated. The end of your rant held some truth to it, both you and Spencer knew that, but something about the last line of what you had said was bugging Emily.

She turned to Hotch. “Rossi is right, she’s stalling.”

“But?” JJ asked her, looking at the building, before looking back at Emily.

“She’s trying to get Diane to shoot Spencer to save Maeve.”

Just as the entire team realized this, they heard Spencer’s voice, steady and unwavering. “I told her not to come on this case because I knew she would have slowed us down.”

Your brain shortcircuited as a hand came up to cover up your sob. Not because what he said was the truth but because Spencer knew what you were doing, and he was trying to do the same thing.

“She’s been useless ever since our friend was killed during a case almost two years ago. She’s barely intelligent, and all she does for this team, truly, is parade around with a positive attitude that gets on on everyone else's nerves because she could never put as much effort into anything as you clearly have.”

Diane walked over to him, squatting down in front of him. “I want to hear you say it to her Spencer.”

Your mouth betrayed you as a soft whimper came through the phone. Spencer didn't mean all of this, he couldn't have, but hearing the words still burned you alive.

“I-I…You slow this team down, and I have always thought you were a waste of space. I never loved you…” And if it wasn't for the slight change in pitch right as he said never, Diane would have believed him, but she pulled away glaring at Spencer.

“Liar.” She hissed at him. “Liar, Liar, LIAR.”

All you could hear through the phone was a muffled struggle before a shot rang out. You heard a second one and heard Spencer land near the phone. You couldn’t make a single sound, conjuring up the worst scenarios in your head. You could hear him trying to negotiate with Diane. You could hear Maeve struggling to breathe. You heard him begging to take her place, you heard Diane screaming about Thomas Merton.

You heard Spencer scream out wait before a gun shot rang out through the warehouse. Everyone was silent, for all you knew Spencer was dead. He had been shot agasin and killed, and the last thing you would have ever said to him was that you never wanted to see him again. But then, you heard Spencer start sobbing. The small twisted part of you came back and was so relieved that he was okay, that he was alive. But listening to the man you would die for cry over another woman’s body made your skin turn inside out. You had out your phone on speaker for your rant, leaving it on the counter. You reached for it, ready to hang up. But that’s when you heard your name.

Spencer had sobbed your name.

He scrambled over to the phone and frantically repeated your name over and over until you interrupted him.

“Spencer.”

“I’m so fucking sorry.” He whispered, sitting against the wall unable to look at the bodies on the floor. "I didn't...I didn't mean any of it, I swear."

“Spencer. I–” You inhaled sharply. “It’s selfish but I’m glad you’re still alive.” You whispered out, causing Spencer to let out another sob.

"Y/N I-I'm so sorry. I-Can you..."

“I-I can’t do this Spence. I’m so sorry.” You whispered, your heart shattering all over again. “I can’t….I’m sorry.” And with that, you hung up, leaving Spencer on the floor, heartbroken and sobbing, truly losing both women he had ever loved in the matter of seconds.

"You will never know true pain until you look into the eyes of someone you love, and they look away." ~ Anonymous

Next Part

#x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #Spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid fanfic #Spencer reid angst #Spencer reid x reader angst #criminal minds #Spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #criminal minds fanfiction

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russellsppttemplates · 3 months

Note

Would you be able to write a blurb with Charles or lando with reader going through it with postpartum? Feeling down and sore maybe recovering after a c section or like issues w breastfeeding. You always write them so well and I need more to tame my baby fever

Note: this can also be considered a sneak peek of a big piece request I have coming up 🤍 also, thank you for taking the time to leave the compliment, it truly makes my day ✨️

Cw: breastfeeding, c-section, post partum, scarring, low mood, self-doubt

"Love, can you fill this bottle again, please?", you asked Lando so you could drink water while you fed Fraser, "it's supposed to help with healing and milk production and health stuff", you gestured.

Chuckling at your words, Lando went to the kitchen to fill it and brought it back, straw ready for you to drink from.

"He's getting bigger, don't you think?", Lando said, sitting next to you on the sofa and kissing your naked shoulder, "you're doing such a good job, baby, I love you", he whispered.

"Just doing what needs to be done", you shrugged your shoulders. It had been a whole rollercoaster with Fraser and you were just grateful that you were home with your family, safe and sound. The rest, you were taking day by day.

"You've been amazing, beautiful. I don't know how to thank you for how much you do for him, for our family", he said as he squeezed your arm reassuringly, "I know it can be hard to believe, but I'm telling the truth. Matilda kept telling her friends that mummy is her hero when I dropped her off", he smiled.

Having surgery, not being able to hold your baby straight away and all of the complications that arose stretched you to the furthest of your physical and emotional abilities, trying to make sure everything was right and doing well, but it was exhausting you.

After feeding and burping Fraser, he was also put in the tiny bedside cot, making you take advantage of the fact that you were up to get your nightitme routine down. After your shower, you rubbed moisturiser on the skin, grabbing the ointment to put on your scar. You wouldn't trade it for the world, your baby boy was brought earthside from there, but the pain and sensitivity were still heightened despite the medications you were taking.

"Baby, is everything alright in there?", Lando said as he opened the door slightly, not missing your rushed movements to pull your nightgown down, "yes, just need to brush my teeth", you attempted a smile.

"I want to take care of you tonight, if you'll allow me", Lando said as he kissed the nape of your neck once you sat on the bed next to him.

"Lando, I don't- we can't-", you attempted, tears falling from your eyes the minute you felt his hands on the side of your boobs.

"Baby, Y/N, darling, I'm not doing anything you don't want to, but I'd like you to relax for a little bit", he encouraged, kissing away your tears, "I hate seeing you like this and I wish I could take this pain away from you", he muttered.

Taking a deep breath, you fiddled with the bracelet on your wrist before you seeked the comfort of his hand in yours, lacing your fingers as you traced his wedding band, "I've been feeling... a lot of things", you started softly, your husband not pressuring you to speak and accepting your touch, "I feel like we're out of the woods - finally - but then it still hurts and I can't do all the things I want and it sucks", you said as tears welled up again,

"Baby, that little boy loves you so much. You're his mummy, and it is because you're so attentive to him that you can't do him wrong. Matilda, who was the biggest daddy's girl I have ever met, doesn't even care about me anymore", he joked, "she's always like, 'yes,b but mummy did this and that and so on', and you know I can't argue with her because she's right! She's in awe of you and you're the best example for her", he kissed your forehead.

"I just feel like I'm slower than everyone else else and that I'm not coming back as quick, and I'm not on top of all of it already", you groaned, "he just learned to latch properly this week - and it's not his fault because he's so clever already -, and then I look at his handsome face and there's this rush of love", you shook your head, "it's so much, all at once".

"It's normal, gorgeous. And you're taking it like a champ, I'm so proud of you for that. I love you for that and so much more", he said earnestly, "you're the best mummy - me, Fraser and Matilda all agree", he smiled, pulling you to rest against his chest and rubbing your arm.

"Tilly's really said that?", you chuckled, "I think it was more like 'mummy was able to feed Fraser and help me with my homework at the same time. Why are you struggling so much?', but, you know, maybe I'm just reading too much into it, you know?", he shrugged his shoulders, happy to see you smile genuinely and calmly.

(Thank you for submitting an ask ✨️)

#lando norris blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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leclercstarrs · 10 months

Text

childhood friends, daryl dixon.

summary: in which you reunite with your childhood friend, only for him to underestimate your value in the current state of the world.

warnings: fem!reader, surgeon!reader, typical twd violence, and not proof read atm.

notes: request from anon! i put a small twist on this request so i hope you enjoy! also i really need to start proof reading my work right away cause i feel like there might be tons of little embarrassing mistakes i haven’t noticed so let me know if that’s a common thing on all my ‘not yet proof read’ fics because if so i’m going to go back and fix them, ty bbies!

One thing Daryl Dixon still remembers about his life before the dead started walking, is his childhood best friend. The girl that he always went to when he was upset, the girl that always knew how to cheer him up, and that same girl that eventually moved away before the two of them started high school, leaving him heartbroken as her and her family drove off to go live in a small community far away from him, not looking back.

Whenever the memories of that girl cloud his mind, he feels pathetic, quickly reminding himself that she’s probably a walker now, having absolutely no memory of him or her own childhood.

However, the one possibility that sounded insane to him, happens to be the reality. That girl is you, who’s younger self hated her parents for ripping her away from everything and everyone she’s known since birth to move to Alexandria, but now is extremely grateful for them, as she has a safe place to stay in during the world going to shit.

“(Y/N).” A loud voice calls you from outside your house, causing you to walk downstairs and open the door. “Deanna, what’s up? It’s like three in the morning.” You sigh, leaning on the door frame, wearing fluffy slippers and a pair of shorts with a tank top. “We have a group that just arrived, some of them need medical attention and check ups.” The older lady explains, bring your attention to the group of people standing in the middle of the road with Aaron. “Alright, one second.” You nod, grabbing your jacket off of the coat rack and quickly putting it on, then following Deanna towards the group.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is (Y/N) (L/N), she’s our nurse and she’s going to do routine check ups on everyone.” The leader of your community explains to the new residents, causing everyone to turn to face you. “Um, I’m gonna check the children first.” You say, a warm smile on your face, hoping to relieve the tension between everyone. “(Y/N)?” Someone says, causing your eyes to follow their voice, being greeted by the sight of someone you recognize. “Daryl?” You gasp. His eyes are wide as you run up to him and hug him, “Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in forever! I didn’t even know if you were…” You don’t finish your sentence, assuming he knows what you were going to say. “Yeah, same.” He breathes out, warming up to the hug and wrapping his arms around you. “You know her?” Another man cuts in, causing you to pull away from Daryl. “She was my friend way back, before high school.” He explains to the other man, “Sorry, who are you?” You ask. “Rick, Rick Grimes.” The man, who you now know as Rick, hesitantly replies. “Oh, nice to meet you. These are your children, yes?” You glance at the young girl he’s holding and the older boy that’s next to him. “Yes.” He nods. “Okay, Do you mind if I take them to the infirmary and check for bites or injuries? It’s a typical procedure here.” You explain. He doesn’t respond. “You can of course come with us.” You add, hoping it convinced him, “Yeah, sure.” He agrees this time. “Okay, I’ll see you soon.” You softly smile at Daryl before turning around, “Come with me, please.” You instruct Rick and his family. “(Y/N), let me know if there’s any issues.” Deanna stops you before you start walking, a concerned look in her eyes. You raise an eyebrow, slightly confused at her worried state, “Of course.” You continue walking.

“Okay, Daryl, your turn.” You walk out of the infirmary room, gesturing to the man that’s sitting on the porch of the building, waiting for the other member’s of his group do get done with their checkups. “Mk.” He gets up, following you back into the room, closing the door behind him. “So, just sit here.” You tap on the chair in the middle of the room, “I’m basically just asking you questions about how you feel and checking your temperature, things like that.” You say your usually ‘speech’, something you usually do in hopes of comforting new group members. “Alright.” He sits down, watching as you shuffle around the room, grabbing a pen and clipboard off of one of the counters. “First question, do you have any bites or scratches?” You ask him. “That’s a stupid question. That’s why these people got you askin’?” He scoffs. You bluntly stare at him, “It’s procedure.” The man shakes his head, “Naw.” You check the ‘no’ box on the paperwork. “Okay, common symptoms of being turned include a fever, so I’m going to check your temperature now.” You plsce your clipboard to the side, getting off of the small stool and walking towards a cabinet filled with medical equipment. “Ya even a real nurse?” Daryl asks. “I went to university, then graduated, then became a top surgeon, so yeah, I have most of the skills to help people.” You roll your eyes, turning around and sitting back down on the stool in front of him. “Ahh, big shot.” He hums as you check his temperature. “No fever, you’re hopefully, not infected.” You sarcastically smile. “Now, you and your friend Rick are coming on a supply run with me tomorrow morning, so go get some sleep.” You stand up and gesture for him to leave the infirmary. “Your coming on a supply run? I don’t think you should, it’s dangerous.” He gives you a weird look. “I think I can handle it.” You laugh his comment off. “Based off the rest of these people, y’all don’t stand a chance if these walks come down, not without my group.” He adds. “I can handle myself. Some of the other residents might not have as much skill as your group, but I assure you, I got just as much experience as you. I’ll be a great addition to the supply runs. Anyways, I usually do them, at least before you guys got here.” You glare at him, roughly closing the medical cabinet. He doesn’t say anything, worry and doubt in his mind as he leaves the room, shutting the door and leaving you alone to clean up.

“Morning.” You walk up to the two men that are standing just outside of the gate, talking to each other in low whispers.“Good morning.” Rick turns around when he hears your voice. You nod, not bothering to make any more conversation, considering your last conversation involved Daryl undermining your capability of navigating the state of the world outside of Alexandria. “Close the gates.” You yell back to the lady on watch, you think her name’s Rosita. “Got it.” She starts closing the gate as the three of you walk away from the safe haven, heading towards a nearby town.

“We need more baby food, for, uh, Judith.” You mumble, reading the list on the small crumpled paper you’re holding. “Daryl.” Rick’s panicked voice sends shivers down you spine, causing you to look up with a concerned look on your face, greeted by the sight of a small group of walkers inching closer to you and the two men. “Shit.” You huff. The three of you quickly get your knives ready, moving away from each other and towards the walkers. While Rick and Daryl deal with the rest of the dead, you deal with about five of your own. Plunging your knife into each of their skulls, you quickly kill all of them, leaving blood splatters all over your clothes. “Am I capable of going on supply runs, now?” You turn to face Daryl, opening your mouth to continue, but quickly running towards him when you notice a walker push him over and fall on top of his body. “Rick!” You call the other man’s name, who just finished dealing with another walker, to get his attention. He turns around and is quick to follow you towards the other man. However, you get there before him, standing over the Walker and jamming your knife into the back of it’s head. Letting out a tired sigh, you wipe some more blood off of your forehead, then shoving the body of the walker off of Daryl. “Thanks.” He manages to breathe out. “Mhm.” You nod. You know it’s stubborn to still be pissed about what he said to you when he almost got eaten alive, but considering you saved his life despite his lack of faith in your survival skills, it felt too ironic.

Walking up and down the aisles of the small and abandoned grocery store, Daryl follows you around like a small puppy. “Why are you following me around? Go follow Rick.” You shake your head, tossing another box of old pasta into your bag. “Rick’s in the other store, I wanted to shop in this store.” Daryl scratches the back of his neck, attempting to create an excuse to walk with you, or really, follow behind you. “Sure.” You roll your eyes. “Hold this.” You abruptly stop and pass your bag to Daryl, the man taking it from you and watching as you stand up on your toes to reach a different box of pasta that’s on the highest shelf. “Here.” You drop the pasta box down, Daryl managing to catch it with your bag. Standing back down, you take the bag back from him, before moving to walk down the next aisle. “I’m sorry, alright? I know you’re capable of handling yourself, I just hadn’t seen you in so long and all those other residents have barely even seen the outside world since moving to that place.” He huffs, grabbing your arm before you can continue to sulk around the store. “I haven’t seen you in, I don’t even know how long at this point, and one of the first real conversations we had, involved you making a snap judgement and regarding me as useless aside from being a nurse.” You look at him, your tone harsh. “I’m sorry, how many times I gotta say it?” Daryl scoffs. “I want you to admit that you were wrong.” You cross your arms, holding them up your chest, your mouth pressed into a firm line. “Fine.” He pauses, “I was wrong, you’re not useless, I never even meant to say that.” He continues. His voice is low like usual, but his facial expression tells a different story, a soft look in his eyes with a small but genuine smile forming. “You’re forgiven.” You hold yourself back from smiling, “I guess.” You shrug. “You’re more stubborn than me, huh?” He laughs. “Always been that way, remember when I didn’t talk to you for a full day because you took my ice cream?” You playfully bump his arm with your arm, “Oh, I remember.” He says.

Daryl never thought he’d see you again, but now that he’s standing right in front of you, the two of you laughing and making jokes, he can start to feel those certain butterflies he felt in his stomach from when he was younger. The butterflies that only showed up whenever he was near you.

#this doesn’t exactly follow the show plot cus i wanted to change some things #this is mad long but it was hard to fit everything into one fic #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #twd x reader #the walking dead x reader #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x y/n

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urdepressedslut · 10 months

Note

If your requests are open…

Could you please do a Mob Bucky x Reader where the Reader is pregnant and gives birth to a premie baby and he baby has to stay in the hospital for 4 months. And Bucky wants to comfort the reader but he’s feeling sad too, so he goes a little crazy because he is angry that he can’t help the reader. So he leaves and the reader thinks that Bucky left her. You can make up how it ends. But please add angst and fluff. I get it if you don’t do it. Thank You!

hi lovely 💕 thank you so much for sending in this request, i read through it and loved the whole idea from beginning to end. i hope you like what i’ve written💗🥰

Out of My Control

♡ Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You awake in the middle of the night discovering that your water broke, you realize you’re having a baby— the only issue is that it’s several months early. Your hospital room gets tense as you and Bucky come to terms with the big changes.

♡ Warnings: language, angst, fluff, premature baby birth, all things to do with pregnancy, argument, stress, hints to panic attacks, self hate, signs of depression, me probs writing anything medical wrong

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | MATURE CONTENT 18+

A relaxing day spent together, as the two of you walked through the park, went on a date and cuddled back at home. Things had started perfect and quickly shifted in a shit show.

Neither of you were prepared for the sudden contractions you were feeling. The alarms ringing in your head— like your body knew but your mind didn’t want to accept it. You were having this baby.

The only issue was that the baby was several months early. If the sobbing coming from you, from the pain wasn’t enough— the idea that you were about to have a premature baby only added into the panic.

Bucky and you talked day and night to your baby— whispering sweet words. Making promises to a baby that wasn’t even born yet. It was all crumbling before your eyes as you were rushed to the hospital, the inside of your thighs drenched from when your water had broke.

Everything happened so fast— you were soon to be knocked out with heavy meds to help with the pain. While Bucky had to witness it all— all these nurses and doctors poke and prod at you, keeping you alive of course. But he couldn’t keep his fists from unclenching— every cry and whimper that escaped your lips made him want to strangle the nurse or doctor that had caused it.

He was a tad overprotective, but you were his everything. His world, his purpose. Seeing you in such pain destroyed him and he felt himself slowly spiraling. He had called several of his men to guard the entire corridor in the hospital, even while the hospital didn't really allow that kinda stuff— they learned quickly not to mess with Bucky. They didn't want to get involved with the whole mob world and just lowered their heads and agreed to what he wanted in the moment.

Many doctors, nurses, tests and meds later— you were finally in stable condition. Giving birth to a premature child had taken a toll on your body, physically and mentally.

You had given birth to a girl— Rebecca Barnes. Agreeing to name your baby after Bucky’s adoring sister, who you had grown close with over the years.

At last you had Bucky in the room the whole time— but you had noticed him getting uncharacteristically quiet. You knew he was most likely worried sick for you, but you couldn’t wait for the moment to tell him everything was going to be okay. You just hadn’t had a moment to talk with him yet.

You thought you’d have time to speak with him but because your child was so early— she was in critical condition. The doctors and nurses doing all they could to keep your baby alive and healthy.

A couple days pass by and the crowd of nurses and doctors have died down, allowing Bucky to finally sit beside your bed. Rebecca was getting checked by doctors and nurses in another room, there was nothing you two could do but cling onto each other as you waited for the news.

“I’ve missed sleeping next to you James.” You called out to him, reaching for his hand and holding it tight.

He hummed in response, his eyes continuing to scan over your face, body— looking for any other injuries.

“James— have you been sleeping?” You questioned after he didn’t respond to your previous one.

Looking over him now that he was close enough, you could see his sunken in eyes. The way his eyes were rimmed with redness— his skin pale compared to his beautiful tan glow that he had. He looked miserable.

He looked up at your eyes at that question, and for a second you thought he was glaring at you.

“Do you really expect me to get sleep when you’re stuck here in pain?” He responded in a hoarse, gravelly voice.

You softened at his sorrow tone, your heart aching that he was making himself suffer because you were.

“Sweetheart, you gotta take care of yourself. I know you don’t wanna leave my side but— I’m okay now,” You finally reassured him, “Everything is gonna be okay — the worst is done with.”

As he hoped your words would help calm him, it did little to soothe the panic that had been brewing in his chest ever since you cried out in pain at home. You were still stuck here— along with his baby. He couldn’t do anything but sit on the sidelines and wait until you got better— and that drove him fucking insane. He wanted to lick all your wounds, steal all your pain. The fact that he couldn’t do it in a snap of his fingers, was making him lose his shit.

“How is everything okay? You’re still sitting here— and you’re gonna be here for god knows how long!” He rushed out frustratedly.

You rubbing the back of his hand in attempt to calm him, knowing he needed to get his stress out— but he ripped it from your grasp. You couldn’t hide the hurt that flashed in your eyes from the action.

“James this happens when babies are born early— you know that. It’s not going to be easy, but I’ll be out of here soo—”

“Bullshit!” He hissed, not necessarily at you— but you could feel the air from his breath.

He hadn’t eaten, or drank very much. Hadn’t slept— overall hadn’t been taking care of himself. Adding all of the stress of your safety— was the golden reason for why he was acting out. Although you didn’t know that fully, and you were starting to feel like his anger was directed at you.

You were emotionally vulnerable right now, with everything that had gone on. You needed his support desperately, not a fight.

“James just take a breath for me okay? You’re okay— we’re okay.” You whispered, your hand itching to hold his. He was too far out of reach now, pacing the hospital room. “I really need you right now— I can’t have you passing out from exhaustion. I need you healthy!”

“Yeah well— I need you to be healthy too!” He argued, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I can’t lose you!!”

Lastly he shouted, watching your eyes flicker from the loudness. He immediately relaxed seeing your hurt expression— he felt bad that he was stressing you out. He didn’t mean to— he just felt things were way too out of his control. He just wanted you to be okay, and back at home in his arms.

You opened your mouth to say something, watching his eyes shift into a faraway look. But before you could say anything, he turned and walked out the door— leaving you alone in the hospital room.

You tried to understand his perspective and desperately tried to— but you were already under so much stress, on your body and mind. The only thing you could do in the moment was cry.

Hugging yourself in attempt to comfort your self, you sobbed quietly. Wishing for Bucky to come back through the door. As the darkness faded into your thoughts, you couldn’t help but feel like this was your fault. Bucky was clearly upset with you— but why?

Was it because you weren’t healthy enough to hold a baby properly? Was it because your body just wasn’t equipped to carry a baby? It was your body— you should’ve been better. Should’ve done more to prevent this.

Your thoughts ran wild, abusing your fragile mind as you curled up in the hospital bed, weeping to no one. The nurse who had been caring for you the whole time came in with a concerned expression, trying to soothe your cries— as the heart monitor was going erratic with panic.

Meanwhile Bucky kept walking, ignoring the worried glances form his men. It was no secret that his men had grown close to you as well. They were all worried about you and the baby— hoping you two would walk out of the hospital soon all healed up.

Steve, his closest friend followed after Bucky— knowing he'd be able to get through his thick skin. Steve's attempts at making Bucky stop were useless, that was until they made it outside— and Bucky finally felt like he could breathe. That's when he turned to meet Steve's worried eyes boring into his.

"What's going man? Is (Y/n) okay?" Steve asked hesitantly.

He'd check on you himself— but it was direct orders from Bucky that they guard the corridor and nothing else. He had to respect that.

Bucky took another deep breath, letting the cool air fill his lungs— the breeze drying the layer of sweat that lightly coated his skin. The stress and anxiety building up— festering inside of him.

"Yeah... she's going to make a full recovery I think." Bucky breathed out, but his expression was still pained.

"That's great news— what's got you so worked up then?" Steve pried, and if it were anyone else— Bucky would be slapping them.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to take another deep breath of the fresh air before his thoughts consumed him once again. Steve could see his pained expression deepen.

"She's fucking stuck here for months man— and I can't do shit about it! I feel like I should be doing more I— I just don't know what to do. I feel terrible that she's in pain— I just want her to be healthy with our babygirl and coming home!" He rushed out, started to pace the front entrance— running his hands through his hair.

Steve reached out to stop his pacing, holding his shoulder in a tight grip to snap him back to reality.

"Hey! Buck— you gotta take a breath and chill out— everything is gonna be okay. I know you're stressed out, I would be too— but you gotta try and calm down." Steve told him, holding his gaze with a stern one.

Bucky didn't mind the roles being switched up at the moment. He needed someone to shake him up— to get his shit together.

"I just love her so much." Bucky whispered, feeling his throat get tight with emotions.

Steve was shocked to see his pal so vulnerable, but it was understandable. He ignored the shock for now and tried to relax his friend.

"You need to tell her that, not me." Steve chuckled, and wasn't surprised at the glare he received from Bucky. "You're sorta right that there's not much you can do— but you can be there for her."

Bucky after a long pause nodded, knowing Steve was right— which was mind boggling to him.

"Yeah, you're right— you're right." Bucky mumbled, taking a few extra deep breaths before turning towards the door.

He stopped himself at the sliding doors and turned around suddenly and walked towards Steve without a word— pulling him into a tight hug. One that had Steve's mouth open in shock— hugs were not their thing.

"Thanks bud— I can't believe I have a babygirl." He whispered excitedly, pulling back with a teary smile and turned away— heading into the hospital.

Your tears had stopped minutes ago, and you stayed laying in bed— staring blankly out the window. Your mind wouldn't slow their attack— the darkness staining your brain. You wondered if someone could die from the abuse of their own mind— felt like you were.

Through muffled sound, you heard the door to your room open and close— followed by a voice. You were so out of it that it sounded like they were speaking from underwater.

It’s probably the nurse again… trying to get you to say something— anything. You thought mindlessly.

“(Y/n)… (Y/n)?” The mumbling continued and you really wanted to look over to see who it was, but found yourself comfortable in the dull state.

A gentle touch to your shoulder had you jumping, glancing slowly over to where the voice was coming from. To your surprise— it was Bucky.

“Hey baby, you okay? You feeling any pain?” He asked worriedly.

You stared at him like he had four eyes, your own darting around his face— almost like you didn’t actually believe he was here.

Bucky only grew more concerned the longer you didn’t respond, instead you stared at him with fear shining in your eyes.

“Baby— talk to me. What’s wrong? You’re scaring me.” He begged quietly, holding your hand in between both of his.

You looked down at your connected hands, your chest rising and falling with a big deep breath— almost like you could finally get a good breath in.

“You’re here.” You whispered, and if Bucky wasn’t as close as he was— he wouldn’t of heard it.

“I’m here baby, I’m not going anywhere— okay?” He asked, needing you to know he was here to stay. He finally got the shot in the arm he needed.

You shook your head, bottom lip quivering and that was the only warning Bucky needed to know you were about to cry. His heart ached at the sight of your now glossy eyes— peering into his with shame. That he didn’t understand.

“Fuck— I’m sorry James… this is all my fault.” You cried, holding onto his hand even tighter.

Bucky shook his head, rubbing the skin of your arm soothingly. Wishing so desperately that he could climb into bed with you— but he couldn’t. At least not for awhile.

He went to assure you, you had nothing to be sorry for but was interrupted by your cries.

“I can’t even do the one thing a woman is supposed to do right— I fucking failed you— us! I’m sorry James I— I should’ve been healt—”

Bucky had enough, he felt sick that you thought this was your fault.

“Baby no, don’t you dare think for one second that this is your fault. You didn’t ask for this honey— there was nothing you could’ve done to prevent this!” He told you sternly, sitting up closer to you now, cupping your face in his hands.

“But I—” You tried.

“No baby— I’m not gonna let you think this is your fault. You have done nothing wrong. Honey, you brought a babygirl into this world. You did it.” He pushed, pecking your forehead.

Your tears continued to fall but your cries has quieted down by now— Bucky’s words sinking in. You couldn’t help but want to smile at the mention of your babygirl. Rebecca— oh how you wanted her in your arms.

“I’m sorry I was angry before, but it wasn’t at you baby— I need you to know that.” He started, pushing stray hairs behind your ears. “I’m just frustrated that I can’t do anything for you right now. I just want you to be healthy and home with Becca.”

You softened your gaze upon his admission, reaching your hands up to cup his stubbled cheek. He immediately leaned into your touch, his eyes shutting on instinct.

“I love you so fucking much baby, and I just can’t stand knowing you’re in pain and that you’ll be stuck here for awhile.” He breathed out, his own emotions getting caught in his throat.

“James… you should’ve just started with that.” You whispered, stroking the skin on his cheek.

“I know, I know— I just get all in my head sometimes.” He admitted and you chuckled tiredly.

“Oh trust me, I know.” You joked, pulling him into the bed with you.

Bucky was careful, not sure if this was allowed and didn’t want to hurt you any further.

“(Y/n)… I don’t know if—”

“Just get in the fucking bed.” You spoke out monotonously.

He chuckled and shook his head, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Yes ma’am.”

You loved that you had this mean, initiating mob boss wrapped around your tiny little finger. But to be fair— he had you wrapped around his as well. He scooted in next to you, where you leaned back— laying your head on his chest. Hugging him around his waist, you could feel the heat of his breath fanning your forehead.

“I love you too James. Just don’t leave again, okay? I need you here with me.” You mumbled to him, feeling sleepy from all the stress of the day.

He squeezed just a little tighter, rubbing your arms comfortingly— before he spoke.

“I’m not going anywhere babydoll, I’m not going anywhere.”

#mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #protective bucky barnes #thank you for your request!#much love 💗#virtual hug

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