#and maybe try out meds for depression and anxiety… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

86espresso · 1 month ago

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secrets i have held in my heart, are harder to hide than i thought ✯ jh86

sum: “I really like you.” *looks around* “are you sure-”

// jack x med student

warnings: 18+, oral (f & m receiving), mentions of familial neglect, cursing, kissing, stress, anxiety, doubt, pet tigers, jack thinking too hard, reader is insecure don’t know what for 💔, overuse of commas because im insane, happy ending, a lil too sappy (i say this with emphasis), i mean it there’s a whole lotta CHEESE, mostly fluff, very emotional and hearty pls im sorry im a lover. afab!reader w/ she/her pronouns :)

w/c; 7.6k

a/n: hey so yeah. wtf. the word count?? i had so much fun writing this. half scared that its boring. i love simp / munch jack. ps: as queen as y/n is, i gave reader a nickname, sorry. (a very … unique nickname. i myself am puzzled as to how my brain works) enjoy. or at least try to. under the cut !

THE library was unsurprisingly almost empty considering the fact that no sane person would want to step outside in this rainstorm, so you were content in studying organic chemistry in the very back, alone with your thoughts, your textbooks, folklore by Taylor Swift, and now a guy. Who decided that he will break the silence in the almost empty library.

You were in your world, as always, not really connecting or associating with things around you but the ruckus of the someone knocking over an umbrella stand and profusely apologizing to apparently no one made you lift your head up. You smile slightly before going back to your work, barely registering your surroundings.

Sure, Jack was entirely focused on his friends, studies, and hockey back in high school, but he was an expert at faces and names and could jot down absolutely anyone that he knows he’s seen before. He knew exactly who the girl with dark circles and way-too-oversized hoodie in the back was.

At least five minutes later, Jack started hovering near your spot, which was the romance aisle. You sneak a glance at him and take note of his athletic shorts and New York Giants hoodie and quickly denote that this man was definitely not the romance novel type (or maybe book type at all). After flipping mindlessly through another book he lets out a soft “fuck it” before turning to face you completely.

You can’t help but crack a smile at his jump when he saw that you had already been staring at him with wide, voidfull eyes.

A pause. You staring at him. Him staring at you. He cracks a dopey smile, blinding you with his paper white teeth, and pulls up a chair in front of you.

“What’s up, Dee?” He asks holding his hand up for a dap. Bewildered at how this complete stranger knows your nickname amongst close friends (from when you gracefully told people that ‘the bags under your eyes are Dior’), you dap him back anyway and blurt, “I have never seen you before.”

“You went to my high school. We worked in a project in like, AP World I think? I dunno. But I remember you saved my grade that whole year.”

Your mind remains blank. You saved a lot of people’s grades.

“My only high school memories are countless APs, pain, suffering, studying and depression.”

Most people would blanch at your dreamy straightforwardness, but Jack just grinned again.

“Yeah, I remember you were always tired but also really funny. And tired. Deja Vu, man, watching you sit here, laser focused on your books. I was on the hockey team, if that helps.”

I furrow my brows, thinking hard.

“I do remember that our hockey guys were really good. They would announce their names like every day on the speakers because they won all the time.”

Jack groans at the memory. He was well known but it was just uncomfortable having your last names called out where the whole school could hear.

You laugh at his reaction. “They would call the same names over and over. I don’t know if it was you who used to hide your face every time they did it but yeah.”

Jack perked up. “Yeah that was me.”

You take a moment to admire his boyish facial features and athletic build. He’s pretty.

‘Don’t even think about it’ pretty.

“Dang. You were like a superstar. Sorry I don’t remember much. I’m like, walking jet lag.”

He laughs a typical frat boy laugh (if that makes sense) and you like it. You want to hear it again.

“So, what are you doing out here? Never pegged you for a big city girl.”

“I go to college here.”

“Damn, we should’ve met sooner. My name is Jack, by the way.”

“My friends call me Dee, but I guess you knew that.”

You were left pondering as to why a hockey player from high school was even anticipating meeting you; people only approached you for notes and the occasional party invitation back then.

“So, uh- what about you? Make it big in the league thingy yet?”

He breaths a laugh. “You could say that.”

“Who do you play for?”

“New Jersey.”

“Prudential, isn’t it? That’s close by my apartment.” I say in thought.

Jack grins. “Really? We might bump into each other often, then.”

He looks genuinely excited.

Why.

What’s going on.

You chat for a few more minutes but it’s mostly you saying out of pocket things and Jack laughing instead of side-eyeing you and walking away. You were surprised at his effortless kindness.

“Phone.”

“Hm?”

“Or Snap? Whatever you feel like is best,” he says, pulling out his phone. It takes a second to register that he’s implying that you exchange contact information.

“Don’t really use Snapchat. I kinda have too much on my plate right now.” You hand over your phone.

“You always overwork yourself, you should be at the club. You’ll die on the inside.”

“Nothing I can’t handle, I hope.”

You just need to push through and never ever have fun.

He checks the time and sighs.

“I was just here to return a book but I gotta head back. Flight for a roadie takes off in a couple hours. I’ll be back in, like, four days? I hope to see you around then?”

You match his soft smile and nod, whatever roadie means but okay. It was actually nice, wasting some valuable study time for a potential friend. He’s cool.

“Yeah. See you.” You offer and huff a laugh as he reaches out to dap you up again.

That night, after yet another long and winding day with the only highlight being meeting someone who was apparently a high school acquaintance, you decide to look him up. Surprised at the absolute famethat this man had loaded, your lips parting at every detail, you click on his instagram and officially unhinge your jaw.

500k followers?

You’re never on insta but that can’t be good.

The shock of how you basically were bonding with someone who definitely downplayed how famous he was didn’t wear off a week later; he texted you quite often and you tried to text back without seeming dry.

It was nearly a week later when he offered to meet up again.

-> two questions

babies come from the baby store.

-> wtf

sorry. ask away !

-> 1. are you at the library rn

do you still like the caramel frappe from dunkin

yes. and yes. what the hell are you doing.

-> something nice. see u soon angel.

angel is wild when I look like I snuck on this earth but thanks for that anyways. you’re very kind :))

-> kind enough to tell you to that you’re really pretty :))

*reacted with heart emoji*

You check your forehead temperature to make sure you hadn’t just imagined the whole conversation.

It wasn’t long before Jack was strutting into the library with two dunkin’ shakes in his hands accompanied by his gorgeous smile when he spotted you in the back, once again.

“You’re wearing glasses today.” He says when you look up at his outstretched hand. You reach forward with a grateful smile, and deja vu hits you hard. The same exact scene playing out in high school when he had asked everyone in some group project their favorite drinks and treated them when they all got an A.

“I remember you,” you say as he flopped on the bean bag next to you with his own drink.

“Yeah? I knew you would. You’re too smart.” He says, again dazzling you with his perfect smile as he lifts two fingers to tap your temple softly to emphasize his point. It’s a challenge to tear your eyes away from his baby blues.

“Your eyes are so blue. It’s distracting.”

Jack’s eyes widen at your unintentional rebuttal at his subtle flirting, and he smirks. He knew that you weren’t aware that you were being flirted with the past week; what you lacked in emotional and social intelligence was shadowed by your sharpness in academics.

“Hey, you didn’t tell me you were a really big deal around here? Everyone knows you and you have like a million followers.”

“Stalking me?”

“Educating myself.”

Jack laughs and throws as arm around you to peer over your shoulder.

“Well, I don’t just go around telling people how good I am. So, whatcha doing?”

The contact makes you freeze up and once again the surreality of a man wanting to spend time with you disorients you a little bit.

“Watching porn.”

Jack laughs again and earns a stern look from the clerk down the aisle.

“I’m studying anatomy.”

“Yeah, didn’t suspect any less than med school for your smartass.”

You turn to him to talk back but his face was inches away from you and that sets off alarm bells throughout your body. You’ve had your fair share of guys and girls but there was not a single string attached and the short flings were easy to forget.

But having someone that pretty, that close to you, not showing exactly what intentions he had? That caused your anxiety to spike. Positively.

“Your face is really close.” You simply state, pushing your large frames higher up your nose.

“And yours is really red.”

You immediately press your hands against your cheeks and groan at what you picture your face looks like. Jack just giggles again and pulls your hands away.

“It’s cute.”

His hands are still on your wrists.

“It really isn’t, but thank you. You’re very kind.”

There’s a beat of silence where you can see the gears in his head turning.

“Do you like aquariums?”

You surprise yourself and Jack when you pull him into a hug as a greeting outside the aquarium.

The feel of your chests touching with little fabric in between set Jack’s heart off racing and the way your curves dipped at your hips had him pulling at his collar.

But most of all, when he pulled back from the hug, he noticed you were wearing shorts that had your legs all out for him to ogle over.

“You hidin’ all that?” He scans your figure, noting the dark, low cut, full sleeve top.

“What? All this?” You say as you push your tits together. “There’s not much to hide.”

Jack’s throat runs dry. Unfortunately for him, he’s still a guy and tits still make him drool. And the fact that you had no idea you were keeping him on his toes

“Be for real.” He rolls his eyes. “How’d your day go?”

“Nice, actually. I just took Nala for a walk and-“ you cut yourself off.

“I didn’t know you had a pet? Can I see her? I love anim-“

“She’s a tiger.”

You give him more and more reasons everyday as to why him hanging out with you was unethical and strange but he seemed to keep on staying. Studying you as if intrigued by your strangeness.

“You- have a pet..tiger?”

Yeah. I’ve done it.

“I- yeah.”

It seems like all Jack ever does is grin because he’s doing it again and flinging an arm around your shoulder as he starts to walk with you.

“Oh, Dee. There’s just so much to learn and love about you.”

It takes you a second to react.

“That may be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“You serious?”

“Yeah. Well, cause I was ugly growing up, and people always thought I was strange. It’s hard to imagine that people are genuinely interested in any sort of friendship with me.”

Jacks fingertips on your bare collarbone, his cologne and aftershave, his figure pressed against your side; all of it was overtaking your senses.

“Baby, why do you think I walked up to you that day in the first place? You may not remember much but I do. You were so kind and honest. And so intriguing. And hardworking. And pretty. I think your dark circles are hot.”

You huff out a laugh and ignore the flutter in your chest at ‘baby’.

Jack looks down at you with a gaze that he can’t pinpoint. You’re just very, very endearing to him. He needs to show you all kinds of fun so you laugh like that again.

“You smell nice.” You say and hesitate before loosening yourself against him more. He hums at the increased contact and at your compliment, smiling against your hair.

“Thank you.”

To say you had the absolute time of your life at the aquarium was an understatement. Jack got to see a side of you that loved fun, that was carefree, and didn’t have that goddamn crease in your eyebrows. You were the one pulling him around, telling him you wanted to be a marine biologist as a kid and that you recognize most of the species. Jack made sure to snap a few pictures of you when you weren’t looking, the lightning shaped twinkle in your eyes a memory he wanted to keep forever.

Later that day, Jack drove you back to your apartment, mentally noting that you were about a fifteen minute drive from his place.

“Nala?” You coo out softly as you push open the door and drag Jack inside, not giving him the chance to protest. Jack looks around at your apartment. It’s small and messy, but organized in some places. He jumps and lets out a brief scream when a fucking tiger is bounding towards you at full speed and knocking you over with a hug. You laugh as your beloved Nala starts licking up your face and you both roll on the floor.

Jack’s breathing calms a little as he remembers who owns the tiger.

“I’ll put her away for now.” You say, reading Jack’s skepticism. He sighed in relief.

“Oh good. Because as much as you reassured me and as man as I am, she’s still a tiger.” You giggle at his words and guide Nala towards her room.

The sound makes Jack smile stupidly. His heart stutters and he wants to put your little laugh on replay. He can’t believe that a girl who stated random medical facts at any time, who lost sleep because ‘she just forgot that it’s important’, who barely remembered him from a while ago even though he remembered everything, who waves at planes as they fly overhead, who didn’t know shit about the sport he played, had him wrapped tightly around her finger.

He takes a moment to observe your apartment. The stacks of medical related books that he doesn’t want to and never will understand, the old record player sitting in the corner of the kitchen, a huge jar of nutella on the coffee table, a questionable fluffy purple blanket on your sofa. Just little things that made you all the more real to him.

And he still wants to know more. He wants to know your sleep schedule so he knows that you’re getting enough sleep and when to text or call, he wants to know what you dream of, he wants to know your passions besides studying, he wants to know what made you become so numb and detached, how you still managed to have a twinkle in your eye when you experienced emotion.

But, as he leans to the counter for support at his racing mind and as you enter the room, still clad in your godforsaken low cut top and curve-hugging shorts, he most of all wants to know what you are like, what your lips would feel like molded against his, how you’d moan or whimper at his touch. He’s still leaning against the counter as he recalls when you unabashedly pushed your tits together just hours ago.

“You alright?” You ask, but you yourself seemed to have distressed eyebrow lines.

“Uh? Oh yeah. I was just.” He gestures around your apartment. “Observing.”

You nod, still lost in thought.

“Are you okay?” He asks, not liking the stress in your body language.

“Yeah. It’s just, I have two projects due next week and I’ve been studying for something else so I completely forgot about them.” You frown, feeling tears pool in your eyes. You can’t cry in front of Jack. If everything else didn’t make him abandon you, then this would.

“Woah. Hey, hey.” Jack is by your side immediately. He feels guilty for thinking of you sinfully while you were in distress but he really couldn’t help it. You blink back the tears and shrug it off.

“It gets kind of a lot sometimes, y’know?” Jack follows you to the couch and sits next to you, immediately taking your hands in his and pulling your legs onto his lap. You gave up on keeping your cool when he does that and give him a bewildered expression. Being taken care of is so strange.

“And? Go on, baby.” He smiles softly and encouragingly, dropping one of your hands to hold your chin for a moment before grabbing your hand again.

You blink.

“Well, It’s probably not as much as I’m stressing it out to be. I’m about to abuse substances.”

“Now don’t do that. There’s lots of ways to destress yourself.” Jack’s hand wanders again, resting on your bare knee. His movements are soft and gentle, but they still cause a foreign spark through your body. You dryly cough before registering his words and looking at Jack’s hand that had inched higher by the slightest.

“Is this flirting?” Rushed out of your mouth and Jack chuckles, a normal sound but an octave lower.

“Sure is, baby. You’re learning fast.” He’s staring your eyes down, and all of a sudden he’s consuming your senses again. His cologne is still there, his insane blues are glued to yours, his deep breathing is signifying his increasing heart rate. His hand inches higher as he moves closer.

“Why don’t I just,” shrug, “eat you out? ‘S a better high than drugs-” His phone buzzes in his pocket.

Jack huffs and pulls away, leaving your insides churning at the his lingering touch and words??? The implication alone, the images conjuring in your head were nothing short of filthy.

He scowls as he takes the call, muttering something about how it’s his agent and he’ll get in trouble if he doesn’t answer. His responses are curt and his expression neutral, but his hand is gripping your thigh with intensity. As he hangs up the call and tosses his phone aside, his hand is almost at your inner thigh and he maneuvers himself to be directly on his knees on the floor in front of you.

The sudden movement and his face looking up at yours between your slightly parted legs has your pussy throbbing. It’s been weeks since you were.. in this particular position with someone and god did it feel nice that it was the finest man in world to unpause your sex life.

He leans up to be face level with you. “Do you trust me, baby?” You never noticed how sultry his natural voice was.

His eyes search yours for any kind of discomfort as his hand reaches forward to cup your cheek. You nod in conformation as he moves closer.

Your breath hitches as he presses his lips to your cheek, dangerously close to your mouth. It confuses you slightly as to why he didn’t just kiss you but both of his hands on your waistband distracts you.

“Can I take these off?” He questions and you nod once again, not trusting your voice.

He’s doing everything in slow motion and you think it alludes to your sensitivity earlier, but anticipation and his hands cloud everything in your mind.

What kind of guy just? offers to eat you out? to help you destress?

Your shorts are discarded and the exposure doesn’t bother you. Sure your heart would be thudding either way, but Jack made you feel different. No anxiety in the sense that he would judge you or harm you or hurt your feelings.

“Hm, these are cute.” Jack’s thumb fingers over the lining of your underwear.

You feel yourself flush.

“Thanks.” Is your quiet response.

“Relax, baby. This is for you to unwind, not to get nervous. Focus on how you’re feeling,” Jack instructs as his finger ghosted over your clothed cunt. Your teeth nibble on your bottom lip as you push your hips closer to his hand.

He smirks at your eagerness and gives in, entirely pushing his thumb against your clit through your panties.

His thumb moves slowly but firmly back and forth as he gauges your reaction. Finding the right spots where your stomach clenches or your eyebrows knit together.

“More.” You muster as you open your eyes to look down at Jack who was already moving to take your damp panties off. Once again, slowly. He groans as he sees you glistening for him and starts kissing up your thigh.

“You have a pretty face.”

Jack grins up at your compliment while peppering feather light kisses on your inner thighs.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The anticipation pools in your lower stomach as Jack breaks eye contact with you to admire your delicacy in front of him. He uses the same thumb to rub through your folds and reach higher to circle your clit. The stimulation has you moaning softly and the sound has Jack’s cock twitching in his shorts.

“I- hurry.” You huff in slight annoyance, wanting more besides the slow circles. Jack smirks against your thigh and removes his thumb so he could move forward lick a stripe through your folds.

Your knuckles get white gripping the pillow, itching to hold his hair instead as his eyes flicker between yours and your pussy. Jack notices your hand on the pillow and guide it to his hair while sucking and licking your cunt. He parts away for a second to catch his breath before making slow and languid motions with his tongue on your clit.

You grip his hair, hard. Jack grunts against you and loses a shred of control as he pulls your legs apart further to dive further in. You let out a startled breath at the sudden movement and pull on his hair more as he shakes his head deeper while still staring up at you.

“Jack..” you breathe out, but it comes out as more of a whimper that makes him hum against you and a spark run through his body. He pulls away and inserts his middle and ring finger through your slick and pumps shortly before curling his fingers. You heave a breath and moan at the feeling while Jack stares up at you in awe.

“You’re everything.” He says more to himself than you, as he watches you writhe and whimper at his fingers while holding the eye contact. He connects his lips with your clit again and suctions in a way that has your back arching and your moans getting louder and more high pitched with each type of attention Jack gives to your pussy.

He switched his fingers and mouth and rubs your clit as he laps up your arousal as he feels you getting close. He takes that moment to switch back and locks eyes with you as his dark pink, wet lips attach to your clit again, softly sucking you closer to your tipping point.

“Oh, f-fuck I’m-“

Your eyebrows knit and your eyes roll back at the sensations of his mouth and tongue and fingers and gaze.

You spasm around his fingers and moan louder while Jack’s fingers guide you through your release. He licks up whatever he can before sitting and wiping his face with the back of his hand as you stare at him with hooded and tired eyes.

“Feel better?” He has the nerve to ask as he runs a wet wipe up and between your legs.

When did he even get that?

Your leg twitches in sensitivity after he’s finished.

“Mm better.” Was all you could muster. All you wanted was to sleep and dream for days.

Jack laughs softly at your state and checks the time.

“I’ll need to head out soon. Team dinner.” He says as he fits another pair of underwear on you. You feel a pang in your chest and anxiety creeps up your spine, but Jack immediately shuts your thoughts down.

“Hey, this doesn’t mean I’ll abandon you or anything. I’m goin’ cause I have to and I would take you but you look like you could use a nap. We can hang tomorrow?” He’s so soft and caring with you, cupping your cheek and smoothing his thumb over it.

“Yeah okay.” You say and watch as he gets up, not before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I won’t go anywhere, baby.”

After the team dinner, when Jack got home and shut the door to his apartment, the first thing he did was call his older brother. Quinn was just the slightest, itty-bittiest bit more fortunate with girls, so Jack naturally went to him for tips here and there.

A few minutes into the call, they exchanged formalities and talked about each others’ seasons before Quinn cut to the chase.

“So? Is it a girl?”

Jack blanched.

“I- well yes, but it’s different this time. Swear.”

“You say that every-time. But it does sound like it might be different.”

“Do you remember Dee from high school?”

“I don’t remember anything from high school.” Is it really that common to forget four years of your life?

“Yeah well. I met her again a few weeks ago. She was the one who used to take all the APs and she graduated early? She was like always tired and kinda funny. And she’s pretty. Like the natural kind of pretty. You’d look at her and want to give up the world for her kind of pretty. I don’t know.” Quinn listened quietly, detecting the hint of fear in Jack’s voice.

“I might be, like obsessed with her. I think she knows.”

“Wait, wait, wait. She knows? That you like her? And you’re not together yet?” Jack didn’t deny it when he said that he liked her.

“I-yes? I think so. She might be into me too and we did a thing earlier today and she flirts with me without even thinking about it? That’s gotta mean something right?”

“You did things with her?!She flirts with you?! Do something. But take it slow. She probably still wonders why you even give her the time of day. She likes you but she doesn’t know it yet.” Hearing his older brother say it untightened his chest.

“I was going to kiss her but I really wanted to things slow with her. She’s been through a bit and, I don’t know, I want to treat her special.” He’s glad that he has a person he can say the cringiest shit to. If it was anyone else on the other line, he would get toasted for the rest of his life. Jack wore his heart on his sleeve and was smart at reading people and their emotions. But sometimes he was just clueless on what to do with that knowledge.

We can hang tomorrow.

Who the fuck says that after going down on someone.

Jack didn’t text you that night.

Or the next morning.

You started panicking slightly when you come home from classes.

That had to have been the last straw for him.

He’s a fucking superstar, he lives in the New York City area, where all the pretty models and blue eyed blondes live. Why the hell would he go for a tired med student from his home state who didn’t care about herself enough to care for him?

Your mind runs a marathon as the elevator doors open to your floor. But when you approach your apartment, Jack is sitting on the floor next to door, scrolling on his phone.

You freeze and stare blankly as he realizes that you’re here.

He perks up and walks over to you pulling you into a light hug.

“Hey, Dee. How were classes?”

“Good. Thanks for asking.” You reply, hesitantly wrapping your arms back around him. You weren’t hugged a lot as a kid or growing up. You’ve hugged more in the last two weeks than you have in your entire life.

“I have a game later today. Wanna come? The other team…isn’t that good. We might win. Unless you have work to do. Or if you just don’t want to go that’s okay too. Or-“ he cuts off when you press a finger against his lips.

“I’d love to go. I finished a lot of my work during classes.” You smile removing your fingers, relaxing in his arms. “When is it?”

“At 7. I’ll pick you up, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You both just stand there for a minute before you remember social cues.

“So, come in? I’m hungry as fuck. We should eat.” You say pushing the door open, petting Nala as you walk in and Jack followed. He smiles at your awkwardness and accepts.

Your look is acceptable. Hair clutched back, light makeup, hoodie and sweats is your go-to anyway. Plus, you’re always cold.

You arrive at around quarter to seven and with the help of signs make your way to the lounge that Jack gave you a pass to.

There’s a guard at the door that held his hand out for the pass and when you gave it to him he eyed you wearily.

“You’re Hughes’ girl? Where did you get this?”

“Jack gave it to me.”

“Uh huh.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “So can I go in?”

“Sweetheart, Jack has only ever invited two other girls here and I can tell you right now, you’re not the third. Who gave you this pass?”

The mention of Jack bringing other girls here makes you absolutely sick to your stomach.

You might vomit.

But anger bubbles up your throat and you’re about to press your finger into the guards chest and give him a piece of your mind, when there’s a patter of feet and an excited “Dee!” coming from your left.

Jack has you in his arms already before you could register it. He tucks you into his shoulder, presses his lips against your temple, lingering, and faces the guard.

“Was there a problem?” The guards mouth hangs open and flickers between the two of you.

“None at all.” He opens the door and lets the two of you in. After he shuts the door and turns face you, you take a second to admire him.

He’s dressed in his game jersey, shoulder pads and everything; except for his skates.

He looks really good.

“You look really good.”

Silence.

“Are you blushing?”

Jack pulls you into his chest so you don’t see more of the pink adorning his cheeks.

“Am not,” he mutters above your head and you giggle as you try to untangle from his grasp.

You pull back and notice that he still has a tint on his cheeks. He holds your face for a moment, admiring every feature. Going from eye to eye, the slope of your nose, the dimple digging into your left cheek, a beauty mark on your chin, your lips.

You feel your breath quickening when his thumb grazes your cheek and his eyes linger on your lips a little longer.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted the two of you.

“Warm ups in two!”

Jack sighed and looked back at you.

“I need to go. You can watch from here.” He led you further into the room and you could hear the crowd getting louder as you got closer. He led you to a balcony where there were a few other people, and pecked your cheek before going back.

The game starts and you’re more clueless that you thought you’d be. The puck was way too small and you didn’t bring your glasses, but you remember Jack telling you that he was ‘86’, so you tried to follow wherever he was.

The girl next to you strikes up a conversation which you cautiously tread with, but you warm up soon. She tells you that she’s dating someone on the team.

“Woah. That must be cool.” She looks confused.

“Aren’t you Jack’s girl?”

“No? We’re friends. I think. He’s really nice to me.” Your new friend blinks before talking again.

“He really likes you though, and you look like you really like him.”

“Well of course I do. He treats me really well.”

“Oh, babe. No. He like likes you. My boyfriend told me he talks about you all the time.” She holds your hand. You look down at it and back at her. You’re quiet for a moment. You’re not sure how to process that.

“I’m not sure how to process that.”

“Well, do you like him? Love him even?”

“I-“

You’re cut off by that awfully loud goal horn, and glance at the screen to see that Jack has scored. You felt a surge of pride in your chest and feel yourself smiling wide as Jack’s tiny figure skated around and fist bumped the players on the bench. He turns to your section for a moment, lingering for a sliver of a second and your heart stops. The game called for the face-off just a second later so he had to look away.

You look over to the girl on your right and she’s already looking at you with a half smirk.

Jack politely declined on drinks later in the locker room after the devils won.

He leans against his car and thinks about you. He really wanted to see you, needed your affirmation.

It’s all he seems to do now. Jack just wants reassurance and peace in knowing that you were there. He spent every waking moment thinking about you and how he got you to show sides of yourself that you don’t show to people. He tried to keep his personal life away from hockey but the way his instincts told him to look in your general direction after he scored made him sick to his stomach.

He might actually be stupid obsessed with you.

Trusting his gut on your body language and making a bold move the previous night may have been the best thing he’s ever done.

That means that he doesn’t need to be cautious with his flirting anymore. He knows exactly what he feels but he wants to wait til you come to that conclusion on your own.

He didn’t notice your quiet footsteps in his direction and was mildly startled when you were standing in front of him. Almost at once, he felt a smile adorn his face.

“That was so cool, I didn’t understand anything but I know you scored.” Your wide, twinkling eyes stared back up at him. “I’m proud of you.”

And that’s all it took for him to usher you into the back seat, strip off your sweatpants, and throw your legs over his shoulders.

Not even ten minutes later, your lungs are dying for air and your body is covered in a thin sheet of sweat. He was rougher this time, sucking a hickey on your neck before, getting the entire bottom half of his face messy, his own hooded eyes losing focus as he pleasured you.

“You back to me yet, baby?”

“Hm?”

You open your eyes and you’re in the front seat, cleaned up, pants back on, and Jack is fastening your seatbelt for you.

“I lost you for like, three minutes there. You okay?”

His voice is gentle and quiet, his index and thumb holding your chin softly as his azure eyes bore into yours.

“Chipotle?”

He laughs, pulling back and shifting the gear into drive, his hair falling slightly in his face and he pushes it back.

“All the chipotle in the world for my Dee.”

Your mind briefly flashed to how he kissed the tip of your nose before he went down on you, and not your lips.

You’re in Jack’s apartment now (your heart dropping when you thought of Nala, but then you remembered that you fed her quite well and she had to be passed out by now. Jack handed you a Hershey’s kiss to calm you down), and it’s big.

Like, huge.

Massive for someone who lives alone.

His TV was playing ‘How to lose a guy in 10 days’ and you were watching like a hawk.

“I’ve never seen this one before.”

“Really? You don’t watch romcoms?” Jack looks at you surprised, sitting next to you with both of your chipotle orders and throwing a blanket over the two of you.

“No. I don’t really get the time.” You furrow your brows and turn to him with a blank expression. “You’ve showed me so much fun in the last few weeks. Thank you.”

Jack could happily die in that moment. He flashes back to yesterday again, your childlike wonder, the new things he learnt about you.

“‘S nothing yet. There’s so much more you deserve to feel happy about.” He kisses your temple before getting closer to you.

You both watch in silence for a while, occasionally laughing and aw-ing, until you can’t hold it back anymore.

“Do you think kissing is unhygienic?”

You look up to him, his unbuttoned shirt, messy hair and lingering smile making your heart skip a beat.

Oh no.

You have such a horrible, fat crush on him.

“Hm?”

“I-nothing.”

“M’kay.”

Sweet boy is not a multitasker and the movie was at a really good part, so he didn’t really get distracted and soon you were engrossed too.

You were still in a cloud of feelings and it was getting a bit much for you. Your head was usually void of emotion, so the change was welcome. And you had Jack to thank for that. He’s done so much for you, taken care of you in ways that no one has and no one ever will.

You realize that he could be your worst heartbreak or someone that’s going to be in your life forever.

You feel slightly sick thinking about it and you need to get it out of your system.

“Can I suck you off?” Your lips lightly brush his ear.

Now that.

That gets Jack’s attention.

He nearly snaps his neck to turn to face you and your noses touch.

“You- I- what?”

Your fingertips are feathery as you brush the hair out of his face.

“I want to suck your dick.”

“You don’t- if this is to- to reciprocate or something-“

“I promise it’s not. I really just want to.”

Jack is already semi-hard and he can feel his dress pants tighten. His eyes briefly widen and he borderline gulps before he watches your hand run down his chest and toy with his belt buckle. As soon as he gives you the green light and pauses ‘How to lose a guy in 10 days’, you’re on your knees in front of him, just like how he was with you the previous night.

Jack’s sanity is once again lost as he watches you on your knees for him. You make a quick work of his belt buckle and pull down his dress pants just enough.

You can already see how loaded he is through his boxers and look back up at him with the same wide eyes that he goes crazy over.

“Cool.”

Jack barely has time to react over your concise approval of his length before you’re mouthing over his boxers, sucking softly, leaving Jack gasping for a breath.

You pull down his boxers and start working immediately, pumping him and wetting your hands slightly so you have more friction.

“Y’know, it’s crazy—I know what all of these veins are called.” You say, more to yourself but Jack’s half smile drops when you lay your tongue flat against his shaft and suck on his tip. He lets out an embarrassing sound between a staggered breath and a whimper as you make your way down. Your cheeks hollow out as you make eye contact with him, making sure you’re getting it right. You come off and continue with your hands and look up at him.

“Good?”

“F- Christ- fuck, so good, baby. So good.”

Happy with yourself, you continue to suck him clean while he chokes out moans and his stomach clenches. You can feel him getting heavier in your mouth and you start speeding up, using both of your hands.

There’s a moment when he reaches forward to push your hair out of your face, so that you don’t get bothered and so that he sees you properly, which warms your heart.

He taps one of yours hands that’s on him to indicate that he’s close and you pull back with a kitten lick to his tip before sticking your tongue out.

You have Jack seeing stars when his load pumps into your mouth, and your eyes dart over his shirt clinging to his chest, his hair falling into his screwed shut eyes, his lips parted and his hand gripping the sofa with such intensity that his veins pop out.

You tuck him back into his clothing after cleaning him up, and he looks at you with tired eyes while making grabby hands.

You chuckle, climbing into his arms and he slumps his body against you, both of you now lying down on the couch as he unpauses the movie.

His head rests comfortably against your chest, one of your hands running through his hair, and the other intertwined with his.

It’s sweet.

Jack wakes up alone and panics at once. It’s embarrassing, really; like finding out your stuffed animal fell to the floor during your sleep as a toddler. But when he checks his messages, he finds a text from you.

Hey, I had to leave. I have a project due tomorrow and also Nala :( We can meet up later. I had fun yesterday. Thank you :))

It’s hits Jack how gone he is when he finds himself clutching his phone to his heart.

It takes a while.

He comes home fresh from morning practice took a nice long nap to clear his head before waking up properly to see that it was raining outside.

He was enjoying (not) the protein shake that he was required to drink and mindlessly scoring through plays from an old game, when it hits him like a sack of bricks.

Do you think kissing is unhygienic?

You think he doesn’t want to kiss you.

You think he’s toying with your heart by showing you all kinds of affection besides the one thing that both of you wanted so fucking bad.

You think he doesn’t like you enough to do that yet.

The drive to yours was smooth despite the rain pouring down from every direction, and because you always reminded him of road safety.

You were standing outside of the apartment building, looking like you were having an argument with.. your tiger.

Your hands were on your hips, body soaked and hair wet as you tried to coax Nala into shelter.

Jack laughed at both of your antics which got your attention. Your mind flashes back to the day that you met him, the pouring rain, and how awkward it was to meet someone you knew from a while back. You wave at him happily as he approached, but noticed a hint of anxiety and embarrassment.

“What’s wro-?“

“Are you into poetry?”

“Uh, sometimes? Why?”

“This- well, I can’t read it. Here.”

He hands over his phone, stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks at anything but you. Puzzled, you cover his phone from the pelting droplets so you could read.

‘The first time you caught my eye

it was not love at first sight.

Instead a quiet curiosity was

planted in my chest and I knew

it was only a matter of time before

you sunk beneath my bones and

nurtured this deep seated familiarity

into a love so fierce that I would question

if I had ever been in love before.’

Lyra Wren.

You read it again.

There’s no way he actually searched for a poem to depict how he felt.

“Look, I didn’t understand half of it hit you get the-“

Jack was cut off by our lips against his.

It was short, maybe a second long, closed mouth, but you pulled away breathless and were close enough to feel his heart racing underneath his clothes.

How desperately he wanted your cold, soft lips against his again.

“So, you like me? For who I am?”

He nods.

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I-“

You were interrupted by Nala’s whine (to say: I change my mind, I want to go inside), and you give Jack his phone, grab his hand and pull him inside.

“C’mon, we’ll get pneumonia.”

Your hands were still in each others, his engulfing yours, when you shut the door to your apartment, locked it, watched Nala bound to her room, and turned to face him again properly.

He was so, so close. Your lips were parted, just inches apart, your foreheads touching.

He closed the gap this time, almost groaning in relief when he felt your mouth properly against his, something you both yearned for without realizing. His lips move against yours gently, savoring as much of you as he can. He nips your bottom lip and it has you and Jack smiling into the kiss. And then it’s a mess, teeth clashing, giggling, tongues lolling over another, one of his hands cupping your face and the other wrapped around your waist, but it feels like everything you’ve ever wanted.

You pull back.

“I love you more.”

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes smut #jack hughes fic #ellie writes 🙂‍↔️#jack Hughes fluff

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the-moon-loves-the-sea · 23 days ago

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As someone about to be 24 in a few months, does it really get better the older you get? Genuinely confused and wondering because I feel like everyday I'm dragging my feet to just catch up to my peers -Sun

I promise, it really does. Our twenties are rough. That’s our very first decade on our own! You’re just getting started. And your peers who seem like they’re miles ahead of you aren’t really on the same path as you — not any more, not like when we were all in school and we had the same things to learn and the same few years to learn them in, and someone else would tell us when we were through. Now it’s all up to you what comes next.

So all of the ones who have lovers now, or their own place, or a bank account or a couple of dogs or a sense of personal style — none of them are on the same paths either. One of them will raise three kids and then years later start again with two more and do everything differently, and the first kids won’t know how to forgive them for it. And the one going on to their second degree will realize ten years later that they really hate the field they studied for. And they’ll decide to drink less or work less and have to live with the quiet when they slow down, and they’ll move in with their lovers and learn they don’t know anything yet about what they want in love or how to get it. Everyone starts over, over and over again. It’s not a race, it’s a rhythm.

But maybe you really are spinning your wheels and you don’t know how to get traction. How’s your depression? I needed meds, not the anti-anxiety meds they recommended me but proper adhd meds that took years to get. I needed my own space too. I needed new ideas. How kind are the people around you? Do they think good things about you? Are they constantly in crises? Does hearing them stop you from hearing yourself? I had to leave my hometown. I had to unlearn a lot. If you can’t leave, can you find one new person? One quiet place to think? One new author, one new song that’s angrier or lovelier that you can dance to at night or sing to yourself through a long day?

Did things get bad when you were still a kid? You might need extra time with the part of your mind that got stuck young and scared. Somatic therapy is really good. Music helps, and green space, and time working with someone who needs your company — kids or animals or older patients. Most schools and hospice programs need helpers. Making things for yourself helps too — trying until you learn what you like to write or eat or plant, not because it’s mature but because it’s yours.

And maybe you’re actually quite good at some things that you haven’t noticed because they feel easy to learn. How’s your photography, your writing, your memorization, your patience with small kids or spreadsheets or cleaning the little corners of a place? Maybe you don’t know; maybe it’ll take time to find out. If you’ve been diagnosed with anything like neurodivergence or chronic pain, the nearest town to you might have a vocational rehab center that’ll work with you to find your strengths and work you can do.

Anyway, I’m proud of you. You’re looking for hope. There is as much that’s good in the world as all the bad, and some of it is near you. I hope you know you belong here and we need you.

#all the love to you #asks #my god we’ve all been 23 and it is not!!! easy!!!!

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the-kingshound · 1 year ago

Text

Personal update

As you might have noticed, I usually try not to leave too much personal information about me on Tumblr. Both because I am a bit paranoid, and because I want to be known as an author, as Kal, the side of me that can use gender neutral pronouns, that can be creative, and vulnerable, and free.

So this post might come as a surprise, but I have this weight on my chest and honestly, I have almost no one to talk to in real life. Consider this a vent, or a confession on my part.

I have not been shy in admitting I suffer from some mental health issues, mainly anxiety and depression. I have also admitted that my games and the community around them have been the only thing to bring me joy the last few years - when the anxiety has quickly become debilitating and then completely crippling.

Most of my issues were due to my academics. You may not know this, but I was enrolled in Medicine (I think it translates to pre med school). It was my lifelong dream to become a doctor, however ever since I started uni, my life has been quickly falling apart. So, more than four years later, I have taken a decision that was incredibly suffered but which has lifted an enormous weight off my chest.

I am dropping out of med school.

And while I am aware I am far from the first person to do that, this decision feels so final. The burial of a dream that had become my whole identity. But even though I cried, and I mourned the loss of the doctor I could have become, I feel like I can finally breathe. And that is what matters.

This means that I will be taking a year off of school. So I will be able to dedicate time to therapy and maybe to working on TKH, if my mental health manages to get a bit better. I would like to do more commissions, maybe even set up montly content for Ko-fi supporters, but we'll see.

Thanks for reading and thanks for the joy you all have brought me over these past incredibly bleak years.

#❤#personal update

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velvetures · 10 months ago

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Helluuuu!! I saw your post about sending requests and mine is actually a really simple one cause I don't have a creative but I just though about a ghost hurt/comfort story

Little Secrets

A/N: So this is very self-indulgent... I hope you don't mind. I think there are quite a few people who struggle with taking meds for depression/anxiety or feel guilty for it. Me included. Hopefully, this helps everyone feel valid, seen, and supported. Summary: Task Force 141 is where you belong. But it doesn't make the work easy by any means. You finally get the help you need and try hiding it. Ghost notices and is the one who sets you straight. T/W: depression/anxiety themes, medication, guilt, insecurity of reader, fem reader, and I'm sure I've missed something, so let me know.

photo by: pedropcl

You couldn't keep fighting it for any longer.

Staring down at the two orange bottles of pills in your hands and the directions packets in the other, you felt like you'd failed despite the psychiatrist you'd spoken to reassure you that this was certainly not a failure. Your brain kept refuting that this was a step in the right direction. Working as a professional and legal murderer should've meant you had no feelings. No failures of regulating your emotions or having such miserable trouble falling asleep at night. That nice woman who'd put the prescription in for you said it would take two to three weeks to see a difference. It felt like no time, yet an eternity all at once. Relief felt so far away, but insignificant compared to other people you often compared your personal struggles with.

You weren't homeless, you could eat without worrying, you had clothes and shoes all of the time, and never needed to wonder if you would have enough money to take care of your responsibilities. Education hadn't been a problem, you were well-respected despite being a woman in such a male-dominated field and kept up with your work extremely well. At least, when your brain decided to deny that you had the ability to do anything. Or... repeatedly try to convince you that nothing you did was worth a damn or actually made you useful. Vicious cycles of fighting with your own brain, knowing that you shouldn't feel or think this way but have no strength or way of stopping. None of the "hacks," meditations, or affirmation bullshit touched that panicky feeling you had mere minutes after laying down at night.

The pills shaking around in your hands were your last resort. And they made you feel so fucking embarrassed as you tucked them in your pockets before entering back into HQ. Praying to god that none of the 141 would see you with them or hear that slight sound of them rattling in their bottles. By grace or luck, you were able to avoid all of them and got back to your quarters to stash them under your bed in a small ammo box repurposed for some personal belongings. The directions you'd thrown away on your drive back, just taking a picture of them for reference and ditching the paper copies so you wouldn't have to keep track of those.

"This better fucking help," You breathe out heavily to yourself.

Staring up at the ceiling and almost dreading having to take one tonight before bed and the other when you wake up the next morning. Daily reminders of how you couldn't be hard and cold like the others. Cool and collected like Gaz, confident like Soap, unaffected like Ghost, or just so very reliable like Price. It made you feel like the weak link needing support. You'd never needed it before, and within two years you'd suddenly realized that your own mind was winning in a fight you'd never even been aware of fighting in the first place.

Keeping all of them in the dark about this would be safest. If they didn't need to question your stability, then it wouldn't feel like such pressure to perform. And hopefully, after a few weeks, things might start to shift a little. Maybe enough to where you could begin sorting out the other problems without the image of a cluttered attic representing the state of your head. Taking care to not raise the alert of the 141 wouldn't be easy. Always noticing everything out of sheer training and sharpened instincts. Having no other good ideas... You just settled on doing everything you could to keep your little secrets under wraps.

In the following couple of days, you’d become adjusted to the routine of taking your medications on the surface level. While the one tasked with easing you anxiety and depression wasn’t going to take effect for quite a while longer the other -a sleeping aid- was definitely making a significant impact. You were able to actually fall asleep and stay that way, problem was, with a couple missions impending in the near future, you were getting concerned that if you took them when you were supposed to -on a schedule- that staying awake would be next to impossible. And if you didn’t take them at all… you didn’t want to deal with the consequences of breaking a much more healthy habit.

And the reason you were so worried about the missions was because of a reoccurring problem that the 141 began finding you falling victim to. Thankfully you were all on leave, making it a lot more acceptable, but they still began walking into different rooms around HQ to see you sleeping soundly. No matter the noise level, temperature in the room, or the space you’d fit yourself into. And no one was quite as intrigued with your sudden change in behavior was the Lieutenant.

Ghost liked things to have order, and often used regiment or habit as a very small form of comfort when he felt that his physical situation was one that could be trusted. And while the others just thought you’d found a new safety in HQ and enjoyed sleeping somewhere safe, Ghost could see that something much different was happening. Your sleeping wasn’t a new habit.

It appeared far too quickly, and you oftentimes didn’t look like you had much control over it. There had already been three times where he’d watched you fall asleep on one of the guys late in the evening without as much as a single attempt to fight the drowsiness. While Ghost didn’t like to think that he cared that much about you, he found himself paying even closer attention to you than he had before.

“There she goes…” Soap chuckled quietly, pointing to you on the couch; head laying in Captain Price’s lap, eyes closed and sleeping deeply with your arms tucked against your chest and lying on your side.

Price had a loving hand on your head, and had been idly petting your hair much like a father would despite being hardly of age to act it. Yet, Ghost felt that Price’s warmth towards you wasn’t the entire reason you had yet again fallen asleep before 11 o’clock. Purposefully he’d been keeping count, and this was the fifth time in a week. More than enough to raise alarm with the others… but he was still waiting silently for someone else to bring it up.

Price chuckled, glancing down at you. “I carried her to bed last time,” His pointed look at each of them was more than enough to guess what he was about to say. “Someone else needs to, otherwise you’ll be voluntold.”

Ghost internally groaned. Not only was that kind of behavior what made people soft, but it also made seeing through the mask of affection far more difficult. But before Soap or Gaz took initiative, the Lieutenant was up on his feet and approaching Price with every intention of being the one to take you back to your quarters. Looks got thrown around the room, and Ghost wasn’t stupid enough to not notice. It was the first time he’d gotten this involved, and there was certainly a spectacle of him picking you up carefully enough to not wake you.

Even though he was quite certain it would take a lot more to get you up than that.

Your door opened up into warm, glowing light from a little lamp you’d left switched on. He catches sight of your quilt on the bed and the little rug that made the polished concrete floors look so much less like the jail cell his own quarters resembled. The whole room smelled like you too. Sweet, and a lot like cinnamon rolls. Probably some type of candle or other smelly thing that you had thought was worth spending money on. Plenty more reasons added to the list of what separates the two of you. Debating your differences or the reason you preferred your quarters smelling like a bakery wasn’t his purpose for bringing you back to your room.

But even with laying you down on your bed and pulling the sheet and blankets over you, Ghost wasn’t seeing any of the possible signs that could lead him to better understand what was going on with you. Nothing is out of place though. Your room is pretty much spotless save for a sleep outfit you’d laid out for tonight, but wouldn’t have the chance to get changed into. And right about the time Ghost decided he’d been looking into your business too much, he bumped into your nightstand.

It knocked something off into the floor, bouncing under the bed and clattering a bit.

Ghost sighed, eyes rolling up towards the ceiling and having quite the frustrating experience of dealing with the sudden responsibility of making sure you were cared for. And that meant picking up whatever shit he’d been too busy watching you, to not knock somewhere under the bed he’d have to fish around and find. So he knelt down and pulled his phone from his pocket and used the flash to spot a tube of chapstick near the bed frame foot.

That, and an ammo box with your initials spray-painted onto the side of it.

Compared to everything else, it didn’t look like it fit amongst the rest of your things. And damn if Ghost didn’t have a sudden gut feeling that it was the reason you’d been sleeping so much. Why you’d been so out of character; Setting his teeth on edge. Reaching out… Ghost grabbed the lip balm and got back to his feet and sit it down on the nightstand where it couldn’t be as easily disturbed again.

“G’night kid.” His whispers fell on your unconscious ears as your Lieutenant dismissed himself from your room and back down to his own space.

***

You woke up in your bed after falling asleep somewhere unintentionally, for the who-knows-which time. Just like before, left in whatever clothes you’d been wearing and all of your blankets tucked up tightly around you. It left a lingering sense of disappointment in yourself. A little pinch of sadness rested like a rock in your stomach. You couldn’t really remember falling asleep to begin with. If you ended up keeping this little habit going, there’d be no doubt you would risk everyone on a mission falling asleep at the drop of a hat.

All because of this damn medicine.

One that you needed to grab from under your bed, and sneak into the kitchen so that you could have some water and food. You'd seen one of the tens of sites -during your research of your pills- that it would help digest it better... whether it actually worked or not wasn't something you could tell. But either way, a doctor had said it, and plenty of people taking it agreed. So you grabbed the pill, shoved it in your pocket, and went out into the kitchen to find a glass.

The floors felt cold even with socks on. And while a steady rain poured from the sky, you were more heated with concern that someone would notice you. Notice your sleeping issues, the way you crawled around in the morning for the first couple hours before the pills began working, or the shady way you hid your face in the refrigerator while swallowing down your medication. Surely the stuff had to be working since you'd not been struggling to get your work done throughout the day. But maybe that was the hard part. Taking pills to fix your head, but needing your brain to recognize whether or not you felt better.

"Oh god help me..." You mutter quietly, searching past Soap's energy drinks and Gaz's revolting jug of green juice to find something you could make for breakfast.

A cabinet door shutting behind you nearly stopped your heart. Seeing Ghost's dark eyes evaluating your reaction didn't make your heart rate drop back to normal either. In his typical day-off wear, a pair of well-worn jeans hung low on his hips and an old SAS t-shirt you'd seen him wear countless times stretched tightly over his chest and shoulders. No doubt he'd been up since four. Quite certain he never actually slept, you wondered momentarily if he could benefit from the sleeping tabs you took. But quickly that got covered in anxiety when his eyebrows furrowed at your expression.

"Nothin' to eat?" He asked with a smooth voice, nodding to the refrigerator door you still held open dumbly.

"N-no... just a bunch of shit drinks." You reply, letting the door shut and noticing that he's got a brown bag with grease spots at the bottom corners. He just nods, looking off into the empty common room. Like he's trying to think of the right way to talk shit about both Gaz and Soap's bad choices in hydration.

"Sit. I've got enough to share." He jerks his head to the other side of the counter, turning that wide back to face you, leaving no room for argument.

You're swallowing down a thick bite of a bagel with god-knows-what in British style as Ghost brews tea. Silently making you a cup as well and standing stiffly with both milk and sugar on the table with the expectancy that you tell him how you like it. Not really unusual behavior from him... typically you get along just fine. But it's the fact that he watches so heavily.

"Just sugar, please." You say through a mouthful, covering your mouth with your hand.

He nods, but then starts putting the sugar in, mentioning something about fucking Americans before sliding the mug closer to you with a couple of fingers. Those damned eyes are just as observant as ever when you crumple up the finished sandwich before he even steeps his own drink. It made you nervous. Wondering if those pills were helping with your appetite too. The psychiatrist said it could; Something about feeling less stressed can give your body more opportunities to worry about being hungry. It was one of those facts on the medication packet you'd taken pictures of.

"Plans for today, L.t.?" You ask, sipping the tea, eyes grazing over the cup rim as you stare at the back of his head.

Mask rucked up high enough to eat and drink freely he nods his head. Leaning his lower back against the edge of the kitchen counter

and resting one hand back.

“Yeah, you?”

You shake your head uselessly, “No. Maybe some laundry, but I’m not really even due. Wouldn’t be worth the water in the machine.”

He hums lowly, taking a drink of his tea. You can hear his swallow and a steady exhale of air that follows. Whether it’s him cooling off the steaming cup or just breathing, you cant tell. But it’s so steady that you actually mimic the tempo of it. Feeling the way it expands and contracts your lungs smoothly. Almost settling. Much like L.t. himself in that way. Terrifying until you see just how easily you can be around him. He’s always quiet and composed, even when there’s plenty of reasons not to be. You wished it was something you could do too. Maybe it would help the task force if you didn’t have to spend your energy keeping yourself at an unnoticeable level of consistent panic.

“Know anythin’ about cars?”

“No,” You’re quick to add on. “But I can learn fast.”

You watch the way the back of his mask slides down further and how his head tilts from side to side to settle it comfortably. Seeing the rest of the tea get dumped into the sink and his own sandwich bag get crumpled up. He’s silent as he washes the cups used and methodically cleans up after the pair of you. Even reaching across the counter to swipe a couple of crumbs off your t-shirt with a subtle nod to his own satisfaction.

“I like to hear it,” His hand palmed at the back of your neck. Gently tugging you off the barstool, and grabbing your jacket to toss it to you. “You’re comin’ with me then.”

Learning about cars actually became quite easy… when Ghost was teaching.

He explained the parts clearly, what his goal was, and didn’t get pissed when you handed him the wrong size socket wrench on the first try. On the other end, you’d only been working next to him -well, sitting on the wheel well- for a couple of hours when you started getting tired again. Almost helpless to your own frustration, you yawned. Fighting the sleepy feeling valiantly, and taking as detailed of mental notes as possible while watching Ghost’s greased knuckles tighten a bracket holding his master cylinder in place. Surely it was a cosmic joke. L.t. was fixing his brakes, and it felt like someone had stomped on yours.

“Hand me that,” He muttered, head stuck down in a gap between his engine block and alternator, still effortlessly pointing at a pair of channellocks. “And get in for me.”

You did as he asked, yawning one more time. Trying to blame your sudden exhaustion on the rain pelting the metal roof above you. Sliding into the back of the car and kicking off your boots to let them rest on the concrete floor outside of it. Attempting to be polite by not getting any dirty spots on the mats of the -very original- DB4 GT Aston he’d given you trust to even sit in. The leather seats help you glide into the driver’s seat, giving you a very slim look at Ghost through the gap in the hood.

“What exactly am I doing in here?” You ask, loud enough so that he can hear you.

It prompts his head to pop up from inside the engine bay, giving you those same, observant eyes from earlier. He looks back down, reaches in and taps on something harshly, then looks back to you.

“Roll it over.”

The car starts effortlessly. Practically purring under you, and echoing in the metal hangar making it sound all the more ruggedly beautiful. The whole car hums, and as you watch Ghost go back to focusing on something in front of him, you feel the heat come through the dash. It’s a perfect storm that lulls you even closer to sleep. A dangerous thing, considering the one man who could figure out what was wrong with you was the only one close enough to see. Hell, you weren’t even sure he didn’t already have it figured out, and wasn’t planning some way to tell Price about it and have you removed from the task force.

Unfit for duty.

You could just picture it now. Red pen in Price’s handwriting detailing your medications and how it was grounds from honorable discharge. Perfectly common in the military, but it felt like death in your hazy mind.

Not that you could fight it for much longer.

Because by the time the Lieutenant had finished his little bit of work, he came into sight of you, slumped over in his driver’s seat with you lips parted and your arms wrapped around yourself. Nothing short of a pretty sight for sore eyes. His car had damn near rocked you sleep, and for once, Ghost felt his heart couldn’t take the feeling of waking you up. He’d watched you all morning. Gauging your reactions, your lack of conversation, and the way you tried to keep from showing him any sign of being tired. Initially he wanted to be angry. Mad that you were hiding something from the team… from him. But seeing you sleeping there, he knew there was a fight in your head. A fight he knew well. So he left you there to sleep.

Turning off the engine to keep from filling the garage with exhaust, but pulling up one of the small space heaters close to the open door to keep you from getting cold while he worked. Making small adjustments, looking over future jobs, and even entertaining the thought of adjusting you over in the seat a little bit so that he could drive-test his handiwork. But that didn’t come, because Soap arrived with a grin on his face and no idea that you were sleeping.

Until Ghost told him to lower his goddamn voice.

“Sleepin’ again bonnie?” Soap chuckled to himself, looking at you before back to Ghost. “How long’s she been out?”

Ghost shrugged, “Few hours.” Really he hadn’t been watching the clock; far too comfortable to concern himself with it.

“I know you’ve been tryin’ to figure it out,” He started back, resting his hands on the hood. “Why she’s doin’ this so much. Have ya’?”

Ghost shook his head. “No. Not yet, but I’m not concerned.”

Johnny laughed softly, slapping Ghost on the back and beginning to walk away. “I never took you for the type to be worried, L.t.. But since you’re so reassurin’ I’ll take it t’heart.”

Any way Ghost came at that statement, he felt himself on the end of a losing battle. Maddening. Losing a fight wasn’t in his nature. Even if that meant he had to take some of the most fucked up torture to reach it. But what bothered him more than Soap knowing he was concerned about you was the knowing you weren’t okay.

Days out in the field were bad enough. But when they got worse, you were always there. And maybe you didn’t feel much better than he did, yet you always held softness. For everyone. For him. A kind of understanding and acceptance that wasn’t required, or exactly approved of in this line of work. You could keep a secret better than anyone he knew, and while he didn’t burden you with a single one of his, there was always the foreign comfort in being able to come with them if he wanted to. Hiding your own feelings wasn’t right though.

Selfish maybe. Thinking it was okay to linger in his own issues and still demand you give him yours.

But hiding behind his rank and position over you meant he could make that kind of decision without any questioning. A type of don’t fucking ask why that saved him face when carrying you from his car back to your room after you still hadn’t woken up nearly seven hours after passing out in his car. Shouldering open the door just like the night before, he expected to see nothing out of place. The same lip balm on the side table, the same rug, and maybe a different night shirt since you’d mentioned doing laundry. But there was something out of place. And damn if it didn’t make his gut twist up in a ugly kind of feeling. One he’d not felt in years, but certainly recognized as soon as he spotted the orange pill bottle sitting on your bed.

It made sense.

The sleeping. The different behavior. The reason you’d practically swallowed a whole fucking sandwich for breakfast when a cup of tea would typically be all you stomached until afternoon. And thank god… you were finally starting to look a bit fuller. Getting prettier every day, and he finally had something to place the blame on. All hesitations about you being able to handle the upcoming missions faded once he got a good look at the bottle. A medication, funnily enough, that Ghost was well-acquainted with. It wasn’t part of his own personal line-up in his medicine cabinet, but it was one he’d taken for a while.

You’d been in need of some help, and luckily for you, it hadn’t been nearly as hard for you to get help as it had been for him. Actually asking for what you needed -and while frustrating- decided to try and manage it without anyone else’s knowledge. Ghost couldn’t think of a better scenario. Realizing that the only thing he needed to know about was your side effects, and how to best manage them alongside you. Thank fuck you weren’t sick… well… sick in a way that someone couldn’t help you with. A way that he couldn’t help.

So, he sit down in on the floor in your room and waited.

Your wake-up call came in the form of sleepy eyes opening to see the massive silhouette of Ghost sitting in your floor. Dark eyes much softer than you’d expected, and a much more concerning sight of your pill bottle resting in his massive hand. A sight that sat you up ramrod straight in your bed, gasping softly and staring at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t tell Price.” You sputter, rushing to get the words out of your mouth. Terrified that he’s going to get up and run out the door. Just sitting long enough to let you get a good look at his plan before exposing you to the Captain as some sick kind of satisfaction.

His eyes narrow a little, “Don’t tell Price?” His voice sounds hoarse. “Don’t tell Price?”

It sounds that much more broken and gritty when he repeats it. Standing up to meet you a bit more level, fisting the pills in his hand, and lightly making them shake. He can’t understand your fear. Completely blind to the fact that -much like him- you’re fearful of being shamed. Misunderstood for it. Or worse. Ghost can’t recognize why you’re looking at him as if he’s going to be the reason your life ends. When in all reality, you don’t see how he’s trying to figure out why you didn’t feel safe coming to him.

“You’ve been takin’ these… fallin’ asleep on everyone, and-and struggling for who knows how the fuck long…” It’s hard for Ghost to keep his tone even, thinking about it. “Why didn’t you tell me. you should’ve told me. Said something. Anything.”

Caving in on itself, your chest burns. Eyes locked on his and scanning every confusing moment of emotion and each shift as it comes and goes.

“You wouldn’t…”

Ghost takes a fast step closer, “I wouldn’t what?” His hand drops the pills on the bed and quickly grabs your face, soft fingers pressing into your jaw. “I wouldn’t get it? I wouldn’t do what you needed me to? Wouldn’t let you sleep on me?”

Your lips open in surprise at the softness in him. All of him. The gentleness of his fingers, how his eyes lay silkily on you. Even his voice, falling so softly despite it’s rough tone and deep sound, feels like he’s terrified of you being scared away from him. Like that gentle hold on your face is all he can manage, and he’d rather do anything other than let you pull away from it.

“You have to know…” he starts weakly. “You have to know that - that I would do… anything you needed me to. Anything to make this easier for you. Even somethin’ small, I’d do it for you, honey.”

reblogs & comments are appreciated 🤎

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rogersideup · 8 months ago

Text

｡°✩ ♊︎ The Gemini♊︎ ✩ °｡

Chapter 5:

Rearview

Series Masterlist

Previous part: Pink Peonies Next Part: Little Birdie

Word Count: 6,610

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions and descriptions of sexual acts, anxiety, and sever depression.

Gentle knocks barely caught Bucky's attention from his spot on the couch in his apartment. All the lights were off, and it was quickly nearing bedtime as a show played a little louder than it probably should.

He thought he was hearing things until it happened again, this time he got up and looked through the peephole in his front door. To his surprise you were standing there.

The door swung open with a sense of urgency and Bucky on the other side. His eyes were immediately soft and concerned, his posture relaxed as he leaned onto the doorframe.

"Bug, what happened to you?" He questioned sounding sounding worried as he took in your appearance.

Comfortable work out shorts and a hoodie was pretty much all you wore during your time off of work in the building that always seemed to be air conditioned to a temperature a few degrees below your comfortability, but this time your hair was thrown up in a messy bun, your cheeks pink and your eyes and nose red, but the main point of concern was your arm in a sling.

Bucky had been way better at respecting your boundaries and giving you the space you needed to heal more than anyone else in your life at the moment, and right now, you just really needed a friend. You had some reluctant confidence that he would be willing to listen to you, maybe even give you a hug if you were lucky, and you were also reluctantly confident in your ability to forgive him at this point.

"Hey, I'm really sorry to bother you but I was just hoping you had a few minutes to talk about what happened today?" You pitched.

Bucky was admittedly taken back by your appearance. Your mental health was taking a toll on you, and it was becoming evident. Even since he last saw you a week ago at your evaluation, you looked sadder, frailer, and smaller.

His hand latched onto the upper arm that wasn't in a sling and he gave it a gentle squeeze as he stepped into the hallway, letting his door close behind him.

"Tell me about it" he nodded.

"Um, Harvey yanked my arm back and trapped me against the wall in the hallway earlier today. He dislocated my shoulder" You admitted with a big deep breath, really trying to keep your composure. "I went to the med bay, they popped it back in place but suggested I rest it and take it easy for a few days, hence the sling."

"Oh you poor thing, that sounds painful." Bucky's eyebrows furrowed. "Are you okay?"

You let out a sad chuckle. "No, I'm not." The admission slipped past your lips for the first time ever.

"M'sorry" Bucky sunk into himself.

"Right after it happened I went to training with Steve, it didn't go well." You explained. "He got mad that I was late, and he really wasn't interested in hearing about what made me late or why I was clutching my shoulder and crying. He grabbed my arms and pulled them behind my back then tied my wrists together. The doctor thinks it wasn't completely dislocated until I had to get myself out of the rope. He gave me pain killers and a pretty strong dose of Xanax to calm me down from the panic attack I was having because of him."

"Steve did that to you?" Bucky questioned quietly in disbelief. "I can't believe he did that."

"I don't think he meant to, but whether it was his intention or not, it happened and the bridge has been burned." You gently nodded. "I couldn't believe it either."

"I don't know what to say." Bucky shook his head sadly.

It was evident that Bucky was stuck between a rock and a hard place in this situation. He kept doing what he thought was right, but he still felt immense guilt that his friends were hurting as a result of it.

"You don't need to say anything." You reassured him. "Rogers made it clear that he's not my boss anymore, and Commander Bennett is sleeping so I figured you'd be next in line as a higher up to make informed that I can't report for duty for a minimum of 24 hours because I'm under the influence of benzodiazepines. It's noted in my medical chart."

"Okay, you rest up and I'll make sure to tell him in the morning." Bucky noted. "How are you feeling right now?"

"A little out of it, but the pain isn't nearly as bad so that's all I could've ever hoped for."

"Mental or physical?"

"Both." You admitted. "I'm sure I'll be feeling a lot worse tomorrow, but I'll leave that to be a problem for myself in the future."

"Steve mentioned to me that you quit the rest of training with him, is this why?" Bucky questioned hesitantly.

"Yeah, it is." You sadly confessed. "Ever since the initial fight, seeing him every day has been pretty hard. After today I realized I really need to prioritize my health before being a good agent. I can't go out and fight on a battlefield if I can barely get out of bed anymore. Plus with my shoulder I can't do strenuous physical activity for a week, and after that there would only be one more week of training left so it would be pretty useless."

"Prioritizing your health is important to being a good agent." Bucky reminded you. "Although it makes me sad to hear, I hope you know I'm proud of you for sticking up for yourself to anyone that's causing you pain."

"Thanks." You crossed your arm close to your body, chickening out on the conversation you initially came for.

You weren't stupid, you knew there was a reason why he wasn't inviting you into his place, and that reason was either Natasha or Steve. Either way, you didn't want to interrupt.

An awkward silence fell over the two of you, and it made your skin crawl. Both of you were far too wrapped up in your own heads just trying to find the right thing to say to each other, but the words never appeared, so you put an end to it.

"oh...and uh thanks for handling Commander Bennett in the morning. It'll be nice to sleep in and not have to worry about waking up early."

"Does he know you're going to quit training? I can tell him about that too."

"He doesn't, but that's not in his jurisdiction anymore so it's fine."

"Got it." Bucky nodded.

"See you around." You awkwardly lifted your hand in an attempts to wave and walk off.

"Hey, would it be okay if I checked on you tomorrow?" Bucky asked. "It's okay if you're not ready for that yet, but I still worry about you a lot. I just want to make sure you're doing okay."

"Yeah, that's fine. You can stop by whenever." You agreed.

"Thanks" Bucky accepted sadly. Then, what he really wanted to say rolled off his tongue unapologetically. "I really miss you, Bug."

"I miss you too." You agreed, the pain you've become rather familiar but never comfortable with was clawing at your chest again. "A lot, actually. But I don't see a situation in which Steve would be okay with us hanging out again, and I know how important your friendship is with each other and I'd never want to be the one to drive a wedge into that."

"I hope you don't take this as me defending him, because I'm not. I promise I'm not." Bucky started. "But I've known him my whole life, I'd like to think I have a good read of his character, and this is nothing like him. He said some really dumb things to you, but bug? I've never seen him this upset with himself in my entire life."

"I don't think there's anything I can do about that." You shook your head. "He's in your place right now, isn't he?

"Yeah, he is." Bucky told you the truth. "He told me about what happened today, he cried for the first time in a few years because he feels terrible about it and how he made you feel."

You swallowed thickly. "That's not an apology for his behavior."

"It's not, but I'm trying to help you understand each other better. If I can attest to anything, it's that you found out about his crush on you at the worst time imaginable. He loves and cares about you so much, and none of it is ill intended. The reason he kept it in for so long was because he was scared of exactly this situation happening, and he's mortified that he broke your friendship and trust in him. Yes, he's been avoiding talking about it because he was hurt by what we did, but now I think he understands and he's avoiding it because he thinks you hate him."

"I don't hate him" You denied. "I'm mad at the way he's handling this, but I don't hate him."

"I know" Bucky nodded.

"He was really angry when I got to training." You told Bucky. "I've never been scared of him before, but I was terrified of him today. I don't know what he was mad about, but I think it was because I was late. I was only late because Harvey was being an asshole, but Steve told me pointedly that he didn't care."

"He was mad at himself, and it was making him grumpy. He's been like this for a week now."

"I don't know how to move past the way he made me feel earlier. It's like I'm scared to see him again because I'm scared that he's still going to scare me." You explained. "It was like there was no traces of my friend left in there, it felt like he was Captain America, and I was the enemy, and there was no mercy for whatever I did to make him mad."

Bucky sighed because he's seen Steve that angry before, and he knew how scary he really can get. He's a tall, muscular guy, and you're barely five-foot-something with far less fighting experience.

"He would never hurt you" Bucky reminded you. "He knows he scared you, and he's having a breakdown because of it."

"He did hurt me, Buck. In more ways than one." You reminded him. "I love him, I really do, but I'm not responsible for his reaction to the way he hurt me. He scared me, he berated me, and he broke my heart but that's his own doing, and he has to deal with the consequences of that just how I have to deal with the consequences of what happened between you and I and how that made Steve feel."

"I get it." He agreed.

"I'm glad that you two seem to be on okay terms, but you understand how that's bullshit, right?"

"Yeah." Bucky practically whispered.

"Well, for what it's worth I'm sorry you're in the position of being stuck in the middle." You apologized. "I love you, I forgive you for telling Steve because I understand why you did it, and I'll always be here for you if you need me, but I also know I can't be the priority."

"Bug, that's not-"

"It's fine, I get it." You saved him from his own lie. "If he's already struggling, are you going to tell him about my shoulder?"

"I don't know." Bucky sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Should I?"

You shrugged with your one good arm. "You know him better than I ever will."

"Do you want to talk to him?" Bucky asked already knowing the answer, but he had to give it a shot.

"Not tonight." You denied. "If he wants to talk about it he can come to me, but right now I'm a little high on crazy pills and pain killers so I'd rather wait until I have more time to get into my right mind."

"I understand."

"Thanks for listening, it was really nice seeing you again." You said sincerely.

"Thank you for trusting me. Can I give you a hug?" He asked knowing you needed one desperately.

You nodded and opened your good arm for him, he hugged you gently to avoid hurting you, but it was still healing in a way you haven't felt in a while.

"Don't be a stranger, okay? We can talk more about it whenever you need to in order to make it better. I love you bug, I still want to be your friend and I know we can make it work."

"I appreciate it." You nodded.

"Do you need help getting back to your apartment? I can walk you home."

"I'll be okay." You reassured him. "Have a good night, I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."

Tomorrow came around, and Bucky did eventually come check on you. He found you in bed around 4pm fast asleep with a romcom playing quietly in the background. It made him

Sad to wake you up, but he did it anyways just to make sure you were okay and that you didn't need anything, and once he was convinced that you were okay he left you alone.

Then, that was the last anyone had seen you for 4 whole days. Was it your intention to stay in your apartment for that long? No. But things happen, mental health quickly spirals, and your body felt sick. It was like there was an external force locking you in the walls of your home, and imaginary restraints tying you to your bed.

You were scared to leave because you didn't want to get attacked again, scared to report to work because you didn't want to see Harvey or Steve again, and you were scared to move because you were so tired of being in pain. So yeah, your apartment became your little safe space, but you never realized you were the point of concern around the building.

Especially not so much that you woke up once more, but this time Steve was sitting on the edge of your bed looking absolutely terrified as he gently shook your arm.

"Hey, are you okay?" Steve asked the second your eyes opened, eyebrows pinching together in concern.

You grumbled something he couldn't understand before turning away and covering your entire head with a blanket.

"Wait, stop, I'm not joking. Are you okay?" Steve asked, this time you could hear the genuine worry in his voice.

"Why are you here?" You asked with an adorable glare as your head popped out of the blanket. “What part of leaving me the hell alone do you not understand?”

He hated that it almost made him smile. "No one has seen or heard from you in 4 days. We got so many concerned reports of your disappearance that they made me to a mandated wellness check."

"Obviously I'm well, you can go now." You wrapped yourself tighter in the blankets and turned away from him again.

"You're not obviously well. It's 2pm and you're in bed, you haven't answered anyone's texts or phone calls, and you were supposed to report to Fury today to see if you were okay enough to get back to work. Everyone is worried."

"I'm fine."

"You're watching pride and prejudice." Steve noted simply. "You're not fine."

"Tell Fury I'll report to him in an hour."

"Fury is gone for a while, I think he's out until the end of the month." Steve explained.

"Commander Bennett, then."

"Out of jurisdiction" he reminded you. "That's why Fury sent me."

"Then who can I talk to in an hour?"

"Me." Steve sighed, knowing that's not what you wanted to hear.

"Do you have a meeting spot available in an hour?"

"No, my schedule is full for the rest of the day."

"Tomorrow?"

"Dude, I'm here right now. What's wrong?" Steve asked, his heart pounding and cracking in his chest.

"What time you you have available tomorrow?"

"8am." Steve said simply.

"Fine. I'll take it." You agreed, closing you eyes and trying your best to pretend like this wasn't happening.

"I'm not allowed to leave until I'm convinced you're okay." Steve noted. "Are you sure you don't want to push the meeting up to right now?"

"Positive." You grumbled. "Sometimes when heavy conversations are sprung on someone with no time to prepare for them, it leads to overly emotional responses. Ever heard of something like that happening before, Rogers?"

"Maybe once or twice." He made the active choice to not bite at the argumentative bait you threw him. "How's your shoulder?"

"Attached and functioning."

"When was your last full meal?"

Once again, you turned your head to glare at him. "If I answer these stupid questions does that mean you'll get out of my apartment and go back to pretending like I don't exist?"

"This is just as uncomfortable for me as it is for you" Steve told you. Really, seeing you look so broken down and worn out made him genuinely sad, but right now you weren't looking for his pity. Quite honestly, he was worried about how you would react to him if he expressed how concerned he really was.

Now with knowing what you knew, Steve was at least smart enough to know that if he reacted to this scenario as a coworker, or a boss, or even a friend, all of his concern would be directed straight to the romantic advancement category of your brain. He knew that he always would and always will care for you regardless of if you rejected his feelings for you or not, but in this situation where that information was taken horribly wrong, the best thing he could do was stay neutral and respect that you didn't want to be part of his life anymore.

You didn't want him to care, you didn't want him to be there, you didn't want to get out of bed, and you didn't even want anyone to notice you were gone for so long.

Yet, somehow on the very flip side of the coin, you were mad at him for not expressing that he was more worried about you than he was letting on, you wanted him to just stay with you and fight for a spot back in your life, you wanted to just get out of your congested apartment and breathe some air that wasn't from the buildings circulation system, you wanted to go on a long run and feel the cold morning air, and you wanted the same people who reported you as missing in action to care enough about your existence to actually be nice to you beyond a mandated report.

But really, you just couldn't get yourself to do anything.

Leaving was overwhelming, staying made you want to cry, and there was no solution in between those two options.

"Hey, did I lose you?" Steve asked.

"No. Sorry." You shook your head.

"When was the last time you ate?" He repeated.

"Dinner last night." You grumbled. "I would've lied and said I ate lunch today, but your bullshit detector is almost unfair and I think anything but the truth would make you even more worried."

"At least you're honest." Steve sighed. "Last time you drank?"

"This morning"

"Water?"

"Coffee."

Steve frowned. "Last time you left your apartment?"

"I saw Bucky after I got released from medical, whenever that day was."

"Last time you went outside? Had fun? Hung out with a friend? Anything?"

"I played The Sims 4 yesterday, it was riveting." You said dryly.

"Any future plans you're looking forward to? Something? Anything? Literally just give me anything to work with."

"Ooh!" You perked up. "There's a new sim's expansion pack coming out next week it costs $40 but it's okay because if you break down the cost per hour you play it, it really is cents to a dollar."

"Oh my gosh" Steve sighed, running his hand through his hair and tugging at the ends a big trying to relive the stress you had caused him. "I can't in good conscience say you passed a wellness check."

"I'm trying my best dude, this is all I got. I don't know what else you want from me." You huffed.

You watched Steve's eyebrows furrow in concern as he checked his wrist watch for the time. "Okay, here's the deal."

"If this ends with me in grippy socks and a gown I'm going to be so undeniably pissed off at you."

"You're already undeniably pissed off at me so that's not very threatening, but, no I don't think you need that at this very moment." Steve corrected you. "I have 45 minutes until I have to get to a meeting. If you can pull yourself together and leave your apartment to go get food and do something fun, then check back in with me in a few hours, I'll mark you as well."

"That sounds like a lot of money and effort." You complained.

Steve sighed and pulled his wallet out of the pocket of his nice jeans, then handed you a card between his two fingers. "Take the company card, I'll mark the charges as a business expense."

Only then did your face light up, and you happily grabbed the heavy silver card from his hand. "I think I can work with this."

"The rules are that I need cold hard proof you ate and did at least one activity that'll make you feel better, I don't care what that is. And I need the card back by the end of the day, no ifs ands or buts."

"Deal."

"Okay great, you have 44 minutes now to get out of the building." Steve reminded you.

"Are you really going to stay until I leave?" You questioned, tone full of annoyance and dread.

"Yeah, that's part of the deal."

"Ugh, fine." You ripped the blankets off of yourself. "Can you at least go into the living room so I can shower and change in peace?"

"As you wish" Steve stood up and raised his hands in defense. "But don't make me late, you know I hate being late."

"How could I ever forget?" You rolled your eyes.

More bait that Steve refused to bite, so he quietly walked out of your room and softly closed the door behind him. Sitting on the couch and waiting, half an hour later you flew through your bedroom door and didn't miss a single beat as you flew through the living room and grabbed your purse off the rack.

"Come on, Captain, i'd hate it if you were late under any circumstance!" You said sarcastically, pulling open the front door as he shot up off the couch. "Even if it was completely out of your control!"

"I'm choosing to not respond to that" Steve grumbled, following you out and down the hall with confidence your door would automatically lock as it slammed shut behind the two of you.

Calling the elevator did nothing to slow either of you down as the doors automatically opened, and you shoved yourself into the furthest corner you could, trying your hardest to ignore your racing heart and internal panic over being forced out of the compound. He could read the anxiety on your facial expressions, and feel it radiating off of you as if you were telepathically sending it to him.

You hit the lobby button, Steve hit the floor his office was on.

Since his floor was above the lobby, the doors opened once more and it was his turn to get off. "Have fun, be safe, give me the card back today."

"Wait? When was I supposed to give it back to you?" You made one last sarcastic jab before the doors closed, completely shielding you from his annoyed face.

As per his request, you got food, spent more than a few hours and a few hundred at a beauty salon, made a quick stop home before Steve texted you that he was out of his last meeting.

So you made a leisurely walk over to his office, and knocked twice before entering. He looked tired and more than ready to turn in work for the day as he straightened out the haphazard papers and various sticky notes on his desk.

"That pothos is looking a bit sad." You noted, leaning in the doorway.

The once happy plant with bright green leaves with tiny cream colored patches was now droopy and under watered.

"It's not sad, it's just dramatic when it needs some water. I watered it a few minutes ago, it'll perk up again soon" He explained, looking at the plant, then up to you. "Oh, you got your hair done."

Your hair was now perfectly styled, cut a little shorter, and was a little lighter throughout the ends. Steve also noticed your casual street ware was replaced with your favorite sweatpants and a cropped t shirt. He once again cursed himself for thinking about how beautiful you were when he really should've still been mad at you.

"And my nails, and my eyebrows." You noted, holding up your hands for him to see. "Is this enough evidence?"

"I guess it is." He nodded. "What did you get to eat?"

"Dim sum" you admitted. "Here's the card."

It wasn't the cheapest option in the world, but every few weeks you and Steve would happily splurge and go get dim sum together because it was just so good. But hey, if you had the company card, you we're definitely going to fill your belly up with bao and dumplings.

"Thanks." He took it back from you. "Do you feel any better?"

"Yeah, maybe a little bit." You nodded. "But I am going to continue on with that meeting in the morning, oh, and definitely finish pride and prejudice."

"Would you like to have the meeting now? I'll stay late, I don't mind." He asked. Staying late was the last thing he wanted to do, but nothing would be worse than living with the anxiety that this unknown meeting was causing him.

"No it's fine, you seem tired." You denied. "And by the way, did you know the company card works on The Sims 4?! Now I'm even more excited for that new expansion pack because I didn't have to pay for it!"

He could tell you were still deeply sad and exhausted by your surroundings, but your fake enthusiasm wasn't helping him feel any less concerned by your state of being.

"Lovely. I'm happy for you." Steve said dryly.

"See you in the morning, Captain Rogers. 8 am, don't be late."

And just like that, you slipped past his office door. Steve wished it was physically possible to kick himself in that moment. He so desperately wanted to just talk to you, he wanted to explain himself, express to you that he loved and cared for you regardless of where the two of you stood, he wanted to be a good friend and be there for you through this very obvious rough patch, but he couldn't.

The words never properly formulated whenever he was within eyeshot of you, yet the second you left and when he would lay awake at night staring up at the dark ceiling unable to sleep, those words formed perfectly and passionately with no way to express them in a way you deserved to hear.

Just like always, he laid awake all night just for 8 am to come around. Promptly on time, you were back in his office.

As you took a seat in the very familiar chair across his desk, he noticed three things. The first being that you weren't in uniform, the second being that even though you looked beautiful, you no longer looked like yourself, and last but not least, the words escaped him again.

The concealer under your eyes did little to hide the fact that you had been crying, the blush on your cheeks didn't fool him into believing that the life hadn't been drained from your face. Your eyes were dull, your sweet and spunky personality that he loved so much had been missing for a month now. You were right in front of him, but you felt like a ghost and he found himself missing you.

"You're on time" Steve noted. "I stopped for a coffee this morning and grabbed you one too since you're the first meeting of my day."

Steve placed the perfectly ordered vanilla cold brew in front of you, "oh, thanks. I appreciate that."

"Will you please tell me what's going on now?" Steve practically begged. This very meeting had been looming over his head in a storm cloud of anxiety since yesterday.

Without saying anything, you handed him a piece of paper. He took it from your shaky hands with a dreadful look in his eye, so you sat and sipped your coffee and looked at the swirls in the wood of his beautifully stained desk while awaiting his reaction.

The first and only thing his eye picked up before he refused to read more was 'This letter is intended to notify you of my resignation in two weeks from S.H.I.E.L.D.'

"No." Steve said sternly before sliding your resignation letter right back to you.

"No?" You questioned.

"Absolutely not."

"I'm quitting and you're saying...no?" You cocked your head to the side, trying not to cry out of immediate frustration. "You understand that's probably illegal?"

"When have I ever been one to follow the law?" He asked rhetorically. "I can't let you throw everything you've worked so hard for away just because of me. Nuh-uh. Not going to happen."

"This has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me." You corrected him.

"Why do you think this is the best choice for you right now?" Steve poked, trying his hardest to ignore the way his heart was sitting in the bottom of his stomach.

You braced yourself with a big breath, and accepted the presence of the never ending tears that always stung your eyes nowadays. "Being here has proven to be the worst experience for my mental health, and I need it to get better because I'm scared of what will happen to me if it doesn't."

"There are other things we can try before taking a step this drastic." Steve pleaded.

You shook your head in denial. "I can't get out of bed anymore."

"I'll get you a therapist."

"I've barely been able to eat, shower, work out." You continued painting the picture for him while quickly wiping away a tear. "This is the furthest I've ever been from myself. I look in the mirror and don't recognize my reflection, all i want to do is sleep so I don't have to deal with the constant state of anxiety I'm in just to wake up and hate that I feel numb. I've lost control over my own emotions and I can't take it anymore. We all saw this coming, Steve, so please just let me go."

"Harvey is literally one write up away from getting fire-"

"Four months ago, it had been 3 years since the last time I cried. Now I think I cry about three times a day, and sometimes I need to cry but nothing happens. It's like I'm losing my mind and I hate it."

"But..."

"I never took a day off or called out since I started shield until that one mission when Harvey made sure I got hurt. Ever since then I've been getting hurt more, working less, having to take days off left and right. At this rate, I'd rather go quietly before I get fired."

"Nobody is going to fire you." Steve denied.

"Even before everything happened, I haven't been happy here. My friends and my boyfriend were the only ones keeping me sane and tying me down to the compound, but now? I don't have a boyfriend or even friends for that matter. Everyone here hates me. Nothing is grounding me."

"Do you have another job lined up?" Steve sank in his chair.

"I'll figure it out."

"You know quitting means you'd lose your housing?" Steve challenged. "Do you have another living situation lined up?"

"Yeah, I have two places and two sets of people waiting for me."

You were being cryptic, but Steve knew you were talking about your Sister and Brother in-Law, and your Mom and Dad.

"But you haven't signed a lease yet?"

"No, not yet." You sniffled.

There was a break in conversation, Steve's wheels obviously moving and cranking desperately trying to come up with a solution. So you sat and dissociated from the situation while talking small and slow sips of your coffee.

"Okay, since I legally can't say no to you right now, here's what we're going to do." Steve sat up, and rolled his chair closer into the desk. "I'm putting you on a two week paid leave of absence instead. Take the two weeks to get out of the compound, stay with whoever is waiting for you and really focus on yourself. Really think about what you want, then at the end of the two weeks if you still think that you don't want to do this anymore, that's fine. I'll terminate your employment on the spot, no need for another notice."

"Okay" You accepted. Not only was it a good deal, but it got you out of the compound as soon as today, and all you wanted to do was run out of the doors and never come back.

He started typing around on his computer, and a piece of paper came out of the printer that jumped on. "In the meantime I also really want you to consider this." You grabbed the warm paper from his hands, and looked it over to see that it was the benefits list to the Avengers position. "You'd move up into the loft with the rest of us, you'd never have to see any of the other agents again if you didn't want to. The job is easier- not as busy with more downtime. Everyone loves you and wants you there, plus it would be an increase in pay with better benefits and a killer 401k."

"Everyone?" You asked, "I can think of two people that probably wouldn't want me there right now."

He gave you a disappointed dad stare. "Everyone, and I mean that."

"Much to think about." You mumbled.

"Since you'll be gone and out of harms way, I'm going to take the time to whip the boys into shape since they can't retaliate against you." He noted.

"Good luck with that."

"Questions, comments, concerns?"

"No questions, no more comments, and no less than a million concerns but that's just an average day for me." You stood up from his desk. "Thanks for your time and effort, I'll be back in two weeks I guess."

"Hey, I'm rooting for you, and I genuinely mean that." Steve reminded you sadly. "If you need anything at all, professionally or personally, I'm here. I always will be."

You nodded before pushing through the doors with your coffee and benefits list in hand. As quickly as you could, you packed a bag full of everything you'd need to be gone for a little while in hopes that you could get out of the building before the news spread. The last thing you wanted was Bucky trying to convince you to stay or Harvey getting some sort of sick satisfaction from your choice.

It took about an hour, but walking through the compound with a backpack and a duffel was the most satisfying and enjoyable experience you've ever had since the first time you walked into the building.

Getting into the car and turning the key in the ignition, you let the air from the vents hit your face and dry out the tears on your cheeks. Your seatbelt clicked in place and held you like a hug while the music from your playlist connected to Bluetooth and sang comforting words to you.

After putting in the address to your parents house in maps and set off on your journey, you had an hour and 45 minute drive ahead of you to relax and let the weight of the world roll off your shoulders.

But in the process of setting off on your journey, nothing was more comforting that seeing the reflection of the compound becoming smaller and smaller in the rear view mirrors.

Much like the gravity of all the issues that lived within the cold, gray building, they became smaller and smaller the further you got.

You let all of your problems stay locked in the concrete walls for Steve, Bucky, and Harvey to deal with on their own. Because right now, you needed to get better, you needed to feel like you again.

By the time you pulled into your parent's driveway, you barely had time to open your car door before your dad was grabbing your bags from the back seat while your mom was waiting for a hug.

You hopped out of the car and happily wrapped your arms around her. Before you knew it, there were little arms around your legs, your dad joined in, then two more sets of arms held you close.

"Wha-" You mumbled, lifting your head to see your sister, her husband and your nephew were here as well. "What are you guys doing here?!"

"We made the drive over so we can spend a few days together as a whole family." Jane explained with a kind, sympathetic smile on her face. "Luca lives in a constant state of missing his Auntie Smalls, and we all miss having you around so we thought this would be a perfect opportunity to get some quality time in."

"We know you're having a hard time, sweetheart." Your Mom pet your hair lovingly. "But we're here to rally around you no matter what, okay?"

"Whether you choose to be an agent, or an avenger, or a barista at the coffee shop around the corner, we're going to love you and support you just the same." Your dad reminded you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "There's plenty of space here for you, we're happy to have you as long as you need. There's no rush."

“And when they inevitably start to drive you absolutely insane, our house is your house too. You know we would love to have you, as would Luca." Nathan, your brother in law told you.

"We're going to have so much fun! Mommy brought puzzles, and paints, and ooh! We can play Nintendo-" Luca started excitedly.

"Woah there buddy, let's let Auntie at least put her stuff down before we start bombarding her, alright?" Jane giggled.

"Fine... Auntie let's go inside!" Luca grabbed your hand and gently pulled you towards the door of your childhood home.

You looked back with a genuine smile on your face. Tears filled your eyes at the sight of your family in the driveway, but this time they were happy tears, something you were completely unfamiliar with.

"Thank you, I love you guys." You put your free hand over your heart as Luca continued to happily walk you in.

"We love you too." Your mom said, finding comfort next to your dad who was lovingly wrapping his arm around her.

He was happy and content to have his kids and grandkid all under the same roof. Nothing made him happier than his empty nest becoming full again. "We love you more."

Next Part: Little Birdie

Tag List: @saranghaey @firephotogrl74 @selella @talesofadragon @ss28 @nekoannie-chan @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @spikeluv84 @crazyunsexycool @callmissrogers @xxxalicerogersxx @whore-for-chris-evans @em8rin @mulbsstuff @qalijahbydior @awkotaco24 @buckybarnessimpp @nicoline1998enilocin @buckystevelove @rogersbarber @mybuck @dbnightingale24 @ynstark @sincerelytlh @klaralovescaptainamerica @alexakeyloveloki @mrsevans90 @smhnxdiii @claralovescaptainamerica

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navstuffs · 7 months ago

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hi!! i really love your writing and i would love if you could feed me with a request (only if you're comfortable with it, ofc) 👉🏼👈🏼 what about a leon x reader where reader is passing through a very tough depressive crisis and is really not fine mentally speaking — and leon just try to help and comfort them through this? 👉🏼👈🏼

anyway, thank you for your fics, they really helped me these days 😭💗

Anchor

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x GNPartner!Reader

Summary: It is 1 am when Leon Kennedy knocks on your door. He shouldn't be there and you shouldn't have opened it.

Warning tags: hurt/comfort, angst, leon almost died, reader is suffering with anxiety due to past events, can be read as platonic or romantic (you choose)

Writer's Notes: hello! first of all, im sorry i took so long to write this request for you. i changed some stuff and i hope you don't mind (reader is still depressed). thank you so much your kind words and i hope this fic serves as comfort for you!! <333 stay safe anon!

for more painful leon's fics, check my masterlist. i have some happy ones too :)

It is 1 am when Leon Kennedy knocks on your door. It is the third time that week only, the fifth of the month.

It starts when you don’t appear at work after two weeks since his return, and no one knows where you are. HR informs you are sick, which means you are still alive somewhere in the world, just sick. Okay, but sick with what? Sick how? Are you in the hospital? Do you need any help? Leon knows you don’t have family around, like him, and you are pretty much alone - like him.

So, as any regular worried friend would, he calls and texts. He wants to hear your voice and guarantee that you don’t need help and have everything you need. That you truly are okay. No answer. HR has guaranteed him you are not dead, but what if you—no, he shouldn’t think about that.

The next step is going to your house. He knows where your address is and wouldn’t be a complete weird appearing there in the afternoon. No answer. Leon won’t be a creep as far as looking at your windows, at least not yet. He won’t go as far as busting your door and checking how you are feeling because he needs to confirm you are okay. You might just not be home.

On the second visit, Leon got awfully close to kicking your door. Before he could do that or even knock, he saw a shadow pass over the window. Though Leon told himself he wouldn’t, he looked inside just in time to see you disappear to the second floor. So, at least you are really alive, Leon’s body filling with relief. It could have been a bad case of flu, and you don’t want to contaminate anyone.

One more week passes, and he visits your house two more times. Those times you didn’t even bother to hide yourself, lazily lying down on the sofa in a way Leon couldn’t see your face (oh yeah, now he is definitely peeking out your windows). So you are genuinely ignoring him or truly sick with some contagious disease. Maybe Covid?

The fifth time he knocks on your door, it is 1 am and Leon is deeply not only worried but bitter. He was sitting in his apartment alone, wondering what you had and why you didn’t open the door for him. You two are colleagues, and Leon would dare to go as far as to call you his friend if anyone asked. How many times have you brought him soup while he was sick? Brought him meds, kept him company? Checked on him until he was finally all better?

It would be only fair if he did the same.

Leon grabs his keys without even thinking: You will open the door for him tonight. And if you don’t, well, he will kick it open. To hell with the civil approach.

-x-

All the courage slips away from his body when he notices the kitchen’s light on. Leon can’t see anything inside since you decided to make his life harder and close the curtains. So, instead of kicking that door until it’s down, Leon goes back to the gentle approach (like the idiot he is): he knocks.

The door opens not even ten seconds later, and Leon blinks, surprised. You are there. You, not a trick of his eyes: a fluffy and long blanket covering your body, only your face peeking with a familiar expression Leon recognizes immediately - he had seen in his own mirror before.

“You won. What the fuck do you want?” Those are the first words to him in weeks.

“May I come in?”

You ponder for a moment, your eyes red, and Leon wonders when you last slept. You walk away, leaving the door open, and Leon follows inside, locking the door behind him.

Your house isn’t in the best state. He had been here before and thought you weren’t the most organized person (“I can find myself in my own mess, Leon.”). The mess had grown too much from normal. There were tons of take-out boxes on the kitchen counter, pizza boxes, and fast food bags. At least you had been eating—not the best food ever, but feeding. He could work with that.

And the bottles—oh, those Leon would identify anywhere. You weren’t a heavy drinker, and you mentioned plenty of times you didn’t know how he liked whiskey. Now, there were countless empty bottles of whiskey, beer, and vodka, so much so that the place looked like a bunch of frat boys had a party just the night before and didn’t bother to clean.

Leon follows you to the living room as you fall onto the couch. An old Simpsons episode plays on the TV screen. There are still some bags and bottles on the floor, but fewer. Your eyes focus on the TV, not really watching or paying attention to him. Leon stands there, keeping a safe distance from you and gathering what to say.

“I came to check on you.” Leon starts, his eyes glued on you. “You haven’t called or texted me back. The HR said-”

“I am sick. I wanted to be left alone.”

“I know, but-”

“I could complain about this to HR, you know? It could be considered an invasion of privacy, and you could lose your job. “

“I was worried about you.”

“You saw me in the window that day, didn’t you? I’m alive and breathing. Now get out.”

You hide your face in the sofa, conversation clearly done on your side. It feels like an impossible battle to win. Leon then tries again, “Do you need anything?”

“No. Get out.”

He sighs, turning on his heels. Leon wants to say you can call if you need him, any time, but Leon knows you wouldn't. This is an impossible battle to win, Leon realizes as he starts to leave. But then he freezes, a memory piercing his thoughts. Leon comes back to the living room, your face still hidden.

“No.”

“What?”

“I am not leaving. Not before I know what is wrong.”

“I am sick.”

“Yes. So I have heard.”

You don’t turn to look at him, and that’s fine. If you want to be stubborn, so could he. Leon can wait. The episode on the TV finally ends, and as the familiar opening plays in the background, you slowly turn in his direction, one eye appearing first, then the other, as if expecting Leon would be gone by now. Unlucky for you, Leon S. Kennedy didn’t give up that easily, especially for his friends.

“I don’t know what you are feeling, but I know that face.” His voice manages to sound neutral.

Of course, he does. Of course, your partner, the legendary D.S.O veteran, would know. You, just a newbie, would have no idea what he went through, but Leon didn’t seem the kind of person to crumble for anything. Leon would probably be fine if you were the one to get shot, not him. He wouldn’t have panicked, he wouldn’t have started crying, screaming for someone to help them, losing themselves in a sea of despair and pain.

“Hey…”

Blood. So much blood in your hands. You are useless, you can’t help him as Leon’s face loses color-

“Hey.”

He deserved someone better—someone much better as a partner—not you, a weak agent who thought you were strong enough to stand by his side. Oh, how wrong you were.

Leon calls your name, more urgent this time, and your line of sight is filled with the face of the man you considered your friend right at your path—concerned blue eyes, his hair tickling against your face. His forehead is in concentration, the faint ghost of a beard, as he speaks soothingly. “Hey, look at me. You are safe. Deep breaths, come on.”

The visions mix as you blink: Leon losing blood in your arms, unconscious, back to being safe, his worried eyes staring at you.

Your rapid breathing noise fills the room, your heart wanting to burst as the pain spreads over your body, the pain worse than being stabbed or punched. You keep your eyes on Leon - he is fine, he is safe, he is well, he is worried sick about you- as he continues to nod and tell you to breathe.

It takes a while, Leon’s hands on your shoulder as you finally calm down, the tears rolling freely from your eyes.

“I am sorry.” You manage to whisper. “I am so sorry.”

“You are safe. We both are safe.” Leon declares, and you take that in. Right now, yes. But what about tomorrow? What about-? “Hey, eyes open at me.” When had you even closed them? “Come on. There is no one else, just you and me. And we are safe.”

You nod, not arguing back. Finally, you sit down, and Leon takes two steps back. “Water?”

“I think there are some in the fridge,” you reply, cleaning your tears. Leon leaves and quickly comes back with two bottles, unbottling them for you. You shake your head, but Leon insists, and you drink in small sips, the cold liquid refreshing your dry throat. When was the last time you had any water? Or took a shower? Or slept?

Finally, you give him space on the couch to sit. Leon doesn’t, and you point your head to your side, and he sits, keeping a safe distance from you. You two say nothing for a while, simply looking at the TV to watch Bart Simpsons on his shenanigans.

“I am sorry.”

“Would you stop that?” Leon sighs back, frustrated.

“No. I am sorry.”

“Fine. I forgive you. Are we good now?”

“No.”

“I knew it wouldn’t be,” Leon replies with a sad smile.

“You could have died, and I didn’t-” Leon says your name, but you continue “-let me finish. I didn’t help. I didn’t move. I did nothing.”

Leon didn’t want to talk about this, knowing it was inevitable. The day he took a bullet for you: not one, but two. Leon noticed before you, his reflexes quicker than yours. It was his responsibility anyway.

You only watched, shocked, as the bullet pierced his leg, then his chest. You didn’t move or flinch; you just froze, your hands closing and opening nervously as Leon fell right in front of you. You had been fortunate that the backup team had arrived on the other second, finding in the middle of the swarm of bullets a screaming you protecting Leon with his own body, all training thrown out of the window. You two should have been dead. Life had given you and him another chance, since no other vital organ or vein of Leon had been damaged.

You don’t remember much after except asking for your resignation that same day and getting a “No” as an answer. So you decided to get on sick leave until some higher-up got tired and fired you.

“I did nothing.” Leon tries to interrupt you again, but you continue, “You could have died, and I did nothing.”

“It wouldn’t be your fault.”

“What? Of course, it would!”

“No, it would not.”

“Can you fucking stop trying to make me feel better?” Your tone is so angry, so vile, that Leon almost flinches.

Death is always in the back of his mind. Every time he is out there, he could die. He is expandable; they all are, but he couldn’t just let you die. You a much smarter version of what he once was during Raccoon City. The same bravery, but not foolish as his. Much sharper. Leon knew why he got paired up with you in the first place, the irony not completely lost in him.

It would have been fine if Leon died that day he protected you, but not okay if you did. Not on his watch. Not now, not ever.

“I can’t help it,” Leon replies, a sad smile on his lips. “I can’t help it, especially when a friend needs my help.”

A friend?

Do not grow attachments. Wasn’t that your first lesson? It had been hard to be paired up with a man who hated it at first, then to learn how to laugh at his silly jokes or admire how far Leon would go for anyone. For anyone, except himself, stupid brave man.

You open your mouth and close it, simply lying against the sofa with your eyes closed.

“So, let me help you?” His voice is warm and inviting.

It would be best if you said no. You should kick this man out of your living room, out of your life, and never go back to that stupid job fighting an endless battle that would end with you dead or someone you cherished dead. You don’t know how Leon does it, but as you open your eyes, his blue eyes look straight at you awaits in hope. Waiting to comfort you, support you to the best of his abilities, and be your friend.

The pain is still there, vivid in your soul and mind, but there is hope. Right there, in that tiny spot you gave Leon S. Kennedy. That’s why you shouldn’t have opened that damn door, you realize, but it is too late. You limit on nodding.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy fanfics #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy imagines #request #requests #asks #ask

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propertyofkylar · 5 months ago

Note

crawls in covered in blood

Harper 19 👀?

doctor's orders - m!harper x gn!pc

tags/warnings: 19. kidnapping, drugging, dubcon, medical kink, reader's genitalia left ambiguous

word count: 1810

note: wow....i hope THE harperfucker enjoys this...

“Mhm. And how has your mood been lately?”

You shifted slightly in your chair, sitting on your hands. Dr. Harper was a strange one. He was something of a therapist and psychiatrist. But he also treated injuries, and you had heard he’d even done gynecology work, so you still weren’t entirely sure what kind of doctor he even was. But the pills he prescribed worked well, so you came every Friday to see him.

“Um,” you hedged a bit, but Harper’s encouraging smile urged you forward. “I mean, it’s not great. You know? Things kinda…suck.”

Harper nodded as you spoke, looking the perfect image of a doctor as he jotted down something on his notepad.

“So I guess I’ve just been kind of…down. If that makes sense?” You offered.

Harper nodded again. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Huh?” You hadn’t expected that. Harper offered you a warm smile.

“I’m experimenting with more herbal remedies,” he explained. “I’ve purchased some tea leaves that claim to help with feelings of depression and anxiety. I thought you might like to try some. I know you like the pills, so this would just be a supplement of sorts. It may help lift your mood, even just a bit.”

Something made you feel a little uneasy. But your doctor had never steered you wrong before. And it was just a cup of herbal tea. What’s the worst thing that could happen? It would taste bad?

So, you nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”

Harper gave you another smile and stood up, busying himself with an electric kettle in the corner of the room. You watched idly from your seat. Maybe a warm cup of tea would be exactly what you needed.

Several minutes later, Harper handed you a steaming mug. An herbal smell of chamomile, lavender, and something else you didn’t recognize wafted towards you. “If you like it, I’ll send it home with you along with your meds.”

You thanked the doctor and took a sip. It was warm with a mildly sweet taste. “It’s good,” you said, going back in for another sip.

“I’m glad you like it,” Harper said.

At the very least, a warm drink would make you feel better temporarily. The doctor made idle chitchat with you as you continued drinking. By the time you had emptied the mug, though, your head was feeling a little fuzzy.

“Are you alright?” Harper asked, only seeming mildly concerned. “The herb blend does have a relaxing effect. It may be that it’s making you tired.

“Mm…yeah…” you rubbed your eyes, suddenly feeling groggy. “Haven’t been sleeping well lately…”

“Don’t worry,” Harper was leaning forward in his chair, almost in anticipation. “Close your eyes. My next appointment isn’t for a while. You can sleep here for a bit, no worries.”

“‘Kay,” you murmured, your eyes shutting of their own accord. “Just a lil bit…”

You were out like a light.

When you came to, you had no idea where you were.

It didn’t feel like you were still in the hospital, though it still seemed like a doctor’s office of sorts. But the light was harsh and artificial, and you got the feeling this room wasn’t used too often.

Also, your arms were bound to the bed, which wasn’t great.

“Mm?” You were still quite groggy, so actual words didn’t come out of your mouth. You suddenly became aware of a figure looming over you, smiling. “D-doctor…?”

Harper undid your arm bindings, inviting you to sit up. “Sorry for that! I didn’t want you to move around or get violent in your sleep. The…tea effects are a little unpredictable.”

You rubbed at your sore wrists - how long had you been like this? - as you took in the surroundings. “Where did you take me?”

Harper rolled a chair next to the bed, stroking your hair in a rather unprofessional manner. “This is my private office. You need a more intensive therapy.”

You blinked. “I do?”

Harper nodded. “Yes. Your depression and anxiety is rather treatment resistant. I want to try some different things with you to help you get better,” he slid his hands to hold yours. They were cold and smooth. “Doesn’t that sound good?”

There was something wrong. Something was off. But your brain felt so, so fuzzy. “Yeah…that sounds nice.”

Harper beamed and clapped his hands together. “Excellent! Now, let’s begin,” he pulled his notepad out and studied it closely. “You say you’ve experienced rape and sexual assault. Is this right?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Uh…yeah.”

He nodded again and checked something off on the notepad. “Good. Then we are going to have sex.”

“What?!” Your ears were ringing. Did he just say that?

Harper set down the notepad and looked closely at you. “You say the assaults cause you trauma. Correct? I can show you how sex can be pleasurable and it will sort of rewire your brain.” He smiled placidly at you. “Don’t worry, you can trust me.”

It was weird. Something felt off. But…you trusted him. So you found yourself agreeing.

“Good!” Harper smiled warmly at you, standing up in front of you. Despite the smile, there was something oddly intimidating about him. But he was a doctor, and you weren’t. So it was probably okay. Right?

The doctor sat next to you on the bed, moving closer then he’d ever been. “The first step is foreplay. This usually begins with kissing. Are you comfortable with that?” His breath was warm on your face. You nodded.

And then the two of you were kissing, Harper’s mouth surprisingly cold, much like his hands were. “Very good,” he murmured. Harper practically tugged you into his lap and your patient gown rode up, making you suddenly very aware that there was nothing on underneath. Wait, weren’t you in a therapy session before? Where did your clothes go…?

Your thoughts were interrupted when you realized you could feel Harper’s cock rubbing against your most sensitive areas. The feeling drew a whimper out of you, which sparked Harper to reach under the gown and grab at your back.

“P-please,” you whined, grinding down on Harper.

But he did not relent. “Please what?” He asked. “You need to be specific.”

“Please…” you sucked in a deep breath. “Please, fuck me.”

“Very good,” Harper pulled away and beamed. “You’re a very good patient. You learn quickly.”

He reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out a small tube. As he squeezed the slimy fluid onto his fingers, you realized what it was - lube. “This may be cold,” Harper said before slipping two fingers into your hole. You bit down on your lip and groaned as the doctor scissored his fingers inside of you. It felt good, but it also felt methodical and practiced.

You pawed at the bulge in Harper’s pants, which he was not expecting judging by his sharp intake of breath. “T-that’s enough,” he stammered, momentarily losing his cool composure. “I think you’re ready now.”

Harper pulled his hand back and unzipped his pants. With one movement he tugged down his pants and boxers and you were suddenly staring directly at his thick cock. It was flushed and twitching, and the bead of precum on the tip gave you the sudden urge to lick it.

But that wasn’t what was going to happen, at least not today, as Harper was stroking his dick with additional lube, and the way he was looking at you - no, leering - was decidedly unprofessional. You were too far gone at that point, though. The only thought in your head was how badly you needed that cock inside of you.

Your doctor grabbed you by the hips and, ever-so-slowly, lowered you down onto his cock. Harper practically hissed as you sunk further and further onto him, until your hips were flush with his.

“V-very good,” Harper managed to get out, his face turning red. This was an act you were quite familiar with, and your instincts kicked in. You started moving up and down, Harper’s hands still gripping you tightly, and he began rocking his hips in unison.

Harper seemed practiced in every aspect, with his cock managing to hit every sensitive spot inside of you. He was consistent, too. Every thrust was almost rhythmic. It made the hospital bed creak and squeak, and if you weren’t almost entirely fucked out of your mind, you would’ve worried about its stability. But all you could focus on was riding Harper and how fucking amazing it felt. Maybe it was that tea you had, or maybe your doctor was just that good at fucking.

His grip on your hips only added to the pleasure and you quickly began feeling heat intensifying within you.

“I think,” you tried to start but were cut off by your own moan. “I’m gonna…”

“Cum,” Harper said plainly, though clearly struggling to stay calm. “You can cum. It’ll - haa - be good for you and your…fffucking treatment.”

You didn’t need Harper to tell you twice, his hips slamming into you. You grabbed onto his shoulders and cried out as the orgasm wracked your entire body. You squeezed your eyes shut, but when you opened them, you noticed Harper was staring intently at you. It felt as though he was staring into your soul.

After several more thrusts, you could tell Harper was about to hit his limit as well. Never easing up on his grip, Harper held you down as he came, filling your insides with his hot cum. The two of you stayed connected for a few moments before he gently pulled you off, you letting out a whine at the loss of contact. Harper quietly studied his cum leaking out of your hole and dripping down your leg, then jotted down a few more notes in his notebook. You wondered what he was writing.

“Well,” Harper smiled at you, straightening his clothes out. “You did a great job. You’re a fast learner. I hope that was pleasurable.”

You could only nod in response.

“However,” Harper looked down at his notebook with a slight frown. “I’m afraid you still have a long way to go. This is only the beginning. I’ll need to keep you here at least for a few more days for further studying and treatment.”

“Oh…” you mumbled. In your post-orgasmic state, you struggled to understand what was going on. But maybe a longer stay wouldn’t be so bad.

Harper stood up, clutching his notebook to his chest, and gave you a few soft pats on the head. “No worries. I’ve already communicated with your guardian and school, so everything will be just fine.” He gave you another grin, one that felt a little less genuine, and made you feel a little uneasy. “Trust me. There is no better place for you to be right now than right here.”

And with that, he left the room.

#degrees of lewdity #dol #harper the doctor #dol harper #dol fanfic #dol x reader #writing #prompt event #this one got a little silly!! and the smut could've been longer #but i couldn't figure it out #o well #i hope u guys like #it was fun to write #just had to um. suspend my disbelief for a bit

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