#on fear of intimacy

[anouri]

i carry a yearning i cannot bear alone in the dark—

sylvia plath // tony belobrajdic // he lihuai // @anouri // anna akhmatova // leila chatti // unknown // maya angelou // sam sax // unknown // joy harjo

[feral-ballad]

Savannah Brown, from Closer Baby Closer; “Retroactive jealousy”

[Text ID: “Someday I’ll care for something / without wanting to close a door behind it.”]

[s0fter-sin]

something happening on a mission, something personal that has soap spiralling; panic and rage making him reckless, thoughtless, and ghost has to draw the line

“you’re compromised johnny; you know what that means?”

“you’re not pulling me out,” soap immediately snarls. he turns on him and ghost barely recognises him; venomous fear turning his eyes to unyielding ice. "you're not sidelining me; i need to be in this-!"

but ghost has never been afraid of venom; spat or dripped straight from bared fangs.

he snakes out a hand grip the back of his neck, jerking him in a rough shake. "if you can't think, you can't be a soldier," he growls and he flinches like he's been struck.

his lips quiver as they twist in a sneer and he wrenches, trying to free himself of his hold.

ghost doesn't let him.

"it means you give your body to me because your head ain't fucking attached to it anymore."

soap stills, body trembling beneath his hand as he sucks in shaking breaths.

he tightens his grip, pulling him closer and digs his forehead hard into his. “it means you give yourself to me so i can have the weapon that you are and use you the way you're meant to be used."

the ice in soap's eyes fractures.

ghost’s voice drops to a whisper, spoken only to johnny, not this facade of vengeance and pain, and wills it to reach him through the glaciers.

“so i can keep you safe ‘til it’s done and i can bring you back.”

[just-another-living-ghost]

I hate how deeply I crave affection and intimacy but how quickly I run from it. I hate that I wasn't loved in the way that I needed as a kid. I hate that I don't know how to be loved now

[canisalbus]

Does Machete enjoy the feeling of sleeping on Vasco's chest (like he's doing in that nosebleed in bed one) or does he prefer a pillow

.

[exclusivelyhomosexual]

Disorganized (aka fearful-avoidant) attachment style is overanalyzing/overcorrecting when you think your partner might be pulling away from you, but then pulling away from them when they draw close to you.

It is both craving AND fearing intimacy so deeply that you grip people tight in your hands lest they leave you, but keep them at an arms length lest they love you.

[blueeyesfilledwithpassion]

Love Her 💙

[petrichor-moss-and-lightning]

“who will come into my kitchen and be hungry for me?” i whisper to myself, knowing full well that anytime someone comes remotely near my kitchen i scramble and hide in the fucking dishwasher

[siren-of-agony]

Immortal whumper that let's immortal whumpee run away every now and again.

They both know, sooner or later, they'll be found again.

[putonyourbathingsuits]

I am in love with David Byrne in a way that cannot be quantified

[anouri]

i am nothing better than a monster. touch the locket and the argentine of fondness will kill me.

franz kafka // evelyn waugh // miles j. johnston // franz kafka // clarice lispector // charles baudelaire // albert camus // skip liepke // susan sontag // @anouri

[seeminglydark]

They missed his blue ‘hawk. He suffers through their schemes in the name of love.

Johnny and Caro are from my webcomics Seemingly Dark and Mil-Liminal!

[howifeltabouthim]

I hate solitude but I am afraid of intimacy. The substance of my life is a private conversation with myself and to turn it into a dialogue would be equivalent to self-destruction. The company I need is the company which a pub or café will provide. I have never wanted a communion of souls. It's already hard enough to tell the truth to oneself.

Iris Murdoch, from Under the Net

[his-porous-membrane]

michael ohmygod 😭

[devirnis]

“feeling each other's pulse” pleeaassseeee 🥺👉👈

Anything for you, Molly my dear!

quiet my fears with the touch of your hand

Rating: G Relationship: Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz Word count: 1.2k Contains vague season 7 spec

Eddie comes to with a burning in his chest and Buck’s name on his lips.

For a second, he has no idea where he is or what’s going on, but then sound filters in around him – water crashing, sirens, people yelling out orders – and it all comes back to him in startling clarity.

The ship shifting suddenly. Debris crashing down and blocking the exit. Water rising with no way out.

Buck looking at him, heartbreak in his eyes, and saying, “I love you.”

“Oh, thank God,” someone says above him. It might be Bobby. “Ravi, help me get him in the ambulance.”

No, no, Eddie can’t go into an ambulance – not until he knows –

“Buck,” he gasps, trying to look around. “Where’s Buck?”

A hand on his shoulder, and the ground beneath him starts to move. “Eddie, just lie still.” Definitely Bobby. “We need to transport you.”

Eddie shakes his head. Bobby didn’t answer his question. That means he either doesn’t know or doesn’t want to tell him. Neither option is acceptable. “No, I don’t – where’s Buck?”

A telling pause. “Hen and Chim are working on him,” Bobby finally says.

Working on him? Eddie’s stomach plummets. No, Buck can’t – not again – not after he said –

“Ravi, on three,” Bobby orders.

“No!” Eddie flails his arms, tries to push himself upright. “No, let me – I can help – I need to see –”

“Eddie,” Bobby says calmly. “Hen and Chim have got him. Let us take care of you.”

Eddie glances around wildly. His gaze lands on a familiar turnout with WILSON written on the back, crouched over a few feet away from him. She’s obscuring his view of Chim, but Eddie can see that he’s on top of someone, performing compressions.

“Eddie –” Bobby tries again.

“Cap, I’m not going anywhere until –”

“He’s going to be okay, Eddie. Just let Hen and Chim –”

“I’m not going –”

“We’ve got a pulse!” calls Hen’s voice.

Relief crashes over Eddie like a tidal wave. His arms give out and he slumps down onto the backboard, finally allowing Bobby and Ravi to load him into the ambulance.

He’s unconscious before the doors slam closed.

---

When Eddie regains consciousness again, he immediately knows he’s in the hospital.

If the fuzzy memories of fighting with Bobby while he was bathed in the red emergency lights didn’t tip Eddie off, the exposed feeling of wearing a hospital gown underneath starchy sheets and the beeping from various machinery confirms it. It takes a monumental effort, but eventually Eddie manages to get his eyes open. The lights are dim, so it must be night. He lolls his head to the side and sees Bobby, asleep and slumped in a chair at his bedside.

Eddie frowns; he figured that if Bobby would be keeping vigil over anyone, it would be –

Buck.

Panic surges through him as he struggles to sit up. If Bobby is here and not with Buck, then that must mean Buck is in the ICU or surgery or –

As Eddie rips the covers back and swings his legs off the side of the bed, his eyes scan the rest of the room and he realizes he isn’t alone. There’s another bed across from him, and in it is a sight so dear that Eddie nearly topples off his bed as the fear drains out of him in an instant.

Buck is unconscious or asleep – Eddie can’t tell, and his eyes immediately flick to the vital signs monitor at Buck’s bedside. Buck’s pulse and blood pressure are normal and his oxygen levels are fine, but just reading Buck’s vitals doesn’t do much to soothe Eddie’s worry. He’s seen Buck hooked up to machines in hospitals too many times before, and only hours ago Buck’s heart was stopped again. Eddie is suddenly overcome with a desperate need to touch him. He needs to feel Buck’s heartbeat, his blood pumping in his veins, and only then will the uncomfortable, anxious skittering under his skin finally settle.

Eddie eases himself off the bed, grabbing his IV stand for support. The last thing he wants to do is go crashing to the ground and wake Bobby up. He gingerly makes his way across the room in his bare feet, and lowers himself into the chair at Buck’s bedside. Reaching out, he gently takes Buck’s hand and flips it over, pressing his fingers into Buck’s wrist.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

Buck’s pulse is strong beneath Eddie’s fingertips. The tightness in his chest loosens, and Eddie relaxes back into the chair, keeping Buck’s wrist in his grip. He’s alive, Buck’s alive; they’re both going to be fine.

Eddie doesn’t know how much time passes, but he finds himself slowly nodding off, soothed by the steady beat of Buck’s heart. He’s completely fine with drifting off to sleep in this chair, but then he feels Buck twitch. Eddie straightens up a little, suddenly awake, as he looks over Buck for any sign of distress. His vitals still look good, but his heart rate is starting to climb.

Buck’s face twists, and he makes a small, pained noise. Eddie’s own heart rate spikes and he starts fumbling with his other hand, searching for the nurse call button –

“Eddie…” Buck whispers.

Eddie shifts his grip, grasping Buck’s hand firmly. “I’m right here.”

Buck shakes his head back and forth. “Eddie…”

Oh god, is Buck hallucinating? Eddie’s just about to press the call button when Buck’s eyes fly open and he sits bolt upright, his gaze skittering around frantically.

“Eddie!” he gasps again. “Where’s –?”

“Buck, Buck, I’m right here!” Eddie squeezes Buck’s hand. “It’s okay, I’m right here.”

Buck’s eyes finally land on him. He blinks a few times, like he’s expecting Eddie to disappear any second. Eddie squeezes his hand again and Buck looks down quickly before looking back up at Eddie.

“You-you’re okay?” Buck rasps.

Eddie smiles. “I’m okay, you’re okay. We’re both okay.”

Buck presses his lips together into a thin line, still clearly uneasy. Eddie can’t blame him; after all, he walked himself across the hospital room in bare feet just so he could get his hands on Buck to reassure himself that Buck was fine, even if he had the evidence right in front of his eyes.

“Here,” Eddie says. He takes Buck’s hand and touches Buck’s index and middle fingers to his pulse point, just like he’d done for Buck earlier. “Feel that? That’s my heart. I’m here with you.”

“Ye-yeah,” Buck croaks. He presses his fingers more insistently against Eddie’s wrist.

They stay like that for a few minutes, just sitting in silence, Buck’s fingers on Eddie’s pulse, Eddie’s eyes on Buck’s monitor. Buck’s heart rate slowly returns to normal and Eddie finally feels like he can breathe easily again.

Eventually, Buck clears his throat. “Do you… do you remember what I said?”

“You think I was gonna forget you telling me you’re in love with me?” Eddie teases gently.

Buck blushes, averting his gaze. “I’m sorry –”

“Don’t apologize,” Eddie interrupts. Then a horrible thought strikes him. “Unless you didn’t mean –”

“No!” Buck’s wide-eyed gaze snaps back to him. “No, I’m just sorry that I told you like that. I wish– I wish it was in a romantic setting, not a life or death one.”

Eddie brings Buck’s hand up to his lips. “Once we get out of here, I’ll take you out for dinner. That new fancy Italian place that just opened.” He kisses Buck’s knuckles. “You can tell me again then.”

Buck gives him a bashful, pleased smile. “Deal.”

(also on ao3)

[exclusivelyhomosexual]

Turns out, I had no idea how much I fear love until someone presented me with the real thing