#medical procedure gone wrong

[benetnvsch]

kunikida plushie quite literally the reason yesterday wasn't the worst day of my life LMAO

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 31: Forced Proximity

Summary: John and Kyle are gone. You have no choice but to lean on the alpha you've betrayed, the alpha that hates you.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 11,071 words

Warnings: ANGST, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, anxiety, reader has a panic attack and several breakdowns, Simon being mean, ANGST, depression, lots of mentions of vomiting and the reader does get sick quite a bit though it's not descriptive in any way, ANGST, heat cycles, pseudoscience, medical stuff (that's probably very wrong), brief mention of needles, medical procedures (nothing very detailed), ANGST, very heavy emotionally again, some very light fluff like barely there but nothing compared to the ANGST

A/N: I did it. I finally got it up. It's uh...it's a heavy one again, I'll tell you that much. You'll hate me even more but oh well. I expected that through this part of the story. I'm so evil I know.

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“I don't like this. It's too...”

“Convenient?”

“Suspicious.”

“I know. But we don't have much of a choice in this.” John says, staring at Simon and Johnny. “You keep your eyes on her at all times. Stay in the barracks when you can. If you have to leave the barracks together, she goes with you.”

“We won't let her out of our sight.” Simon says. “If anything happens, Kate will be the first to know.”

“Good.” John says. He trusts the two of them to look after you. Yet he can't deny the timing of this is a bit suspicious. “We'll be back as soon as we can. Take good care of our girl.”

Two weeks. 

It’s been two weeks since John and Kyle left. 

Despite the fact it’s not the longest someone has been gone, it doesn’t ease the ache in your chest, the pain slowly carving its way into your very soul. You haven’t spoken to them. There’s been no word. Nothing. It could be a good thing. Sometimes no news is good news, and you suppose it’s better than a phone call saying they’ve died in some horrible accident. 

You keep waiting for that phone call. 

Every time Johnny or Simon’s phone rings, you begin to panic, fear eating away at that hole in your chest. It’s bad news, it’s Kate calling to tell them your alpha and beta aren’t coming home. 

You’ve hardly been able to relax, tense and jumpy at the littlest things. Being enclosed in the barracks at all times isn’t helping. You haven’t left once, not even to the med center. Dr. Keller has been coming to the barracks, more than she normally would for your appointments. You wonder if it was Johnny’s doing to try and help you relax, or Simon’s doing in hope you stop stinking up the barracks with the sour scent of nerves and fear. 

Simon has been distant still, avoiding you as much as he can. It’s impossible to avoid you completely, though, as Johnny can’t watch you 24/7. It’s a bit claustrophobic, the way they hover, always keeping one eye on you. It’s been a bit suffocating for the last three weeks, but with John and Kyle gone...it’s almost worse. 

Johnny has tried to fill that void, tried to support you in any way he can, but it hasn’t worked. You know it’s Johnny, you love Johnny, yet not even he can fill the void that has become your life without your alpha. 

You hate it. 

You hate their job, you hate that it takes them from you. You hate the uncertainty, the constant fear and worry that makes you sick. You hate that it’s dragged you into it. You know they were digging for the perpetrator of the cameras, who put them up, who ordered them to be put up, who potentially wanted to look into your personal life in such a violating way. The sudden deployment feels too suspicious, too sudden to be coincidence. 

But as John says, entertaining conspiracies won’t get you anywhere. 

Still...it smells fishy to you. 

The hole in your chest has left you in a constant state of uneasiness which has left you on the verge of tears constantly. Every day that passes without word of a tragedy or that they’re coming home makes your stomach churn, tears constantly brimming in your eyes. John’s shirt is constantly in your grasp, a dirty one you’d fished out of the bottom of his laundry basket, soaked in his scent. It’s beginning to fade, slowly eroding away until there won’t be anything left. Then you’ll grab another and another until you have none left. His room still smells like him, his pillows still fresh with his scent. 

You know it will fade, though, and fade fast. 

You’ve been avoiding spending too much time in his room and Kyle’s in favor of keeping their scents in there as long as possible. The fading of their scents is like an omen, marking a fading of their presence in your life, of the bond between you. The constant fear that you’ll forget them, what they sound like, what they smell like, what they look like. 

It makes you physically ill. 

That painful churning in your stomach is back as you sit on the couch in the rec room, curled up as far from Simon as you can get. Simon is still angry at you, at your betrayal of his trust. So much progress down the drain because you proved you’re not trustworthy after he trusted you enough to begin opening up. You still hate yourself for it, for keeping the secret for that long. Even a month would have been better and would have had less consequences for everyone. Maybe then you might have caught the camera in the bear sooner, and not been so violated during some of your most private moments. 

Some of those moments with Simon. 

How violated does he feel, having such vulnerable moments between you recorded and viewed by someone out there? You can’t help but think back to that night when he came back, and the morning after. Someone watched you. The bear had been right there, those black beady eyes staring right at the two of you. How many times had you fucked the others in your bed, the bear sitting there, watching, projecting those moments to whoever was on the other side. 

Your heat. 

The bear hadn’t been looking then, but it had been listening. It knows what happened, every last detail, every slam of the bed against the wall, every knot. 

It makes you sick. 

Your stomach churns, your arms wrapping around your middle as you let out a shaky breath. You’re going to puke again, the bile rising in your throat. The intense tingling in your hands is starting again, your fingers curling in as your extremities begin to go numb. You’re panicking again. 

Instead of vomit, a choked sob leaves your lips, your tears hot and burning on your cheeks, stinging like they’re composed of acid. 

Simon glances up from his phone, his face the mask of indifference that it has been for three weeks. A mask that he had worn for the first few months after your arrival. “What?” He asks, his tone flat and voice rough. 

You can’t answer him, too busy hyperventilating and sobbing where you sit. You can’t even think if you wanted to, your body aching as your muscles begin to tighten. You can’t distress. You’ve been fighting the urge since the day the truth came out. 

You can’t trust Simon to help you. 

You’re not even sure he knows how to. 

Of course, it would be easy to call Dr. Keller, get her to help him, but you’re not sure he’d want to. Could he be so angry and betrayed he’d just stand there and watch you distress yourself to death? 

He wouldn’t. He’d have to explain himself to John, why he let it happen. It would tear the pack apart. It would tear them apart. You wouldn’t put it past John to try and rip Simon’s throat out with his teeth in anger. It would be a bigger betrayal than yours, and Simon wouldn’t let you lose your spot at the top of that list. 

“Fuck.” Simon breathes, setting his phone down before moving in front of you. He lowers himself onto one knee, reaching for your arms. If you had been more aware you might have flinched away, but the lack of oxygen to your brain is making everything fuzzy. 

Simon grips your elbows, tugging you forward gently. Your legs are forced off the edge of the couch, your body upright as Simon holds your arms in his grasp, your legs between his as he kneels in front of you. You stare down at him, the sudden change in position shocking you for a moment. You choke around another sob, eyes blurry as you try to look at him. 

“I need you to breathe.” He says, squeezing your arms gently. 

You can’t. 

Your breaths are sobs, wracking your body, tearing at your lungs. Your chest hurts, aching and burning as you quickly begin spiraling out of control. 

“Look at me.” He says, shifting his hold to your wrists, taking them into one hand before he grabs your chin with the other. He keeps your head still, locked on his face. His eyes are blurry to your own teary ones as you look right at him, looking through the mass of blurry black that surrounds him. “Breathe.” He says, his voice rougher than normal, rumbling with the command of his alpha around the edges. 

It goes straight to your head, a shiver running down your spine. Your body shudders in response, your next sob catching painfully in your throat. You cough, lungs spasming as your body suddenly begins to follow his order automatically. Simon lets you go as you attempt to gain control over your out of control body. One part of your brain is still panicking, still pushing towards distress while the other fights to follow the alpha’s command. It’s a battle, your instincts at war with each other. 

The next inhale is a gasp, inhaling until your breath stutters and your lungs ache. You let it out slowly, the flood of oxygen making you shake in Simon’s hold. He keeps his hand around your wrists until your inhales stop stuttering and your muscles start to relax. 

He slowly releases you, pushing himself up to sit on the coffee table. You’re surprised it can hold so much weight after it’s been sat on so many times. Not even a creak as Simon lowers himself onto it. 

He rests his elbows on his knees as he stares at you. His figure begins to get clearer as your tears slow, no longer blurring your vision. You're expecting the sharp sting of his harsh gaze, or worse the indifference you've grown used to over the last three weeks. 

Instead there's a soft look in his eyes. Not soft as you would describe Johnny's, but soft compared to what it has been. Pity, you think. 

“You're a fucking mess.” He finally says. 

You laugh. You can't help it. The deadpan delivery of such a him statement in response to everything has a laugh escaping your lips. You wipe your eyes, sniffling. He hates it, hearing your sniffles. It annoys him when you cry, it always has. 

You push yourself back onto the couch, pulling your knees up again as you stare at him. There's a slight tremble to your fingers still as you sit there in silence for a moment. 

“I'm sorry.” You say, still looking at him. “If I had just said something sooner...” You swallow thickly as you stumble over your words. “None of us would have...the camera would have been found sooner...we wouldn't have...both of us...”

“You shouldn't apologize if you don't even know what to say.” He says, the softness in his gaze hardening again. 

“It's not that it's just...” You take a breath, trying to straighten out your thoughts. “I feel so guilty. This is all my fault and if I had just said something sooner, none of this would have happened. What happens next is my fault too. I know you and John have been digging into who is behind it and I know how risky that is. They know that we all know now, and...I'm scared of what might happen.”

You let out a long breath at your confession and attempt at an apology, squeezing your fingers together as they begin to tremble even more. You want to look away, his gaze piercing into you again. You're reminded of the moment the words had fallen from your lips that had caused this in the first place. Your heart begins thumping in your chest, your breathing picking up slightly at the memory. Will he get angry again? Will he snap at you and drag you down the hall to lock you in your room until John and Kyle get back, or Johnny calms him enough to rescue you?

“I feel so violated.” Your voice shakes. “I can't even imagine what it's been like for you. It took us so long to get to that point and...” You swallow the bile trying to rise in your throat. “I'm so sorry.” Tears blur your vision again. “I didn't know...I didn't think...I was so stupid.”

He scoffs. “You are.” His words are sharp, and they sting as they slice through you. “Fucking stupid, I'd say.” You wince at his words. “But you’re inexperienced. You don’t think about things like we do. No matter how much everyone has tried to drill it into your head, you’ll never truly understand until you experience it yourself.” He holds your gaze for a moment. “I hope you never have to.” 

You stare at him, the meaning of his words not lost on you. You’ve put yourself in danger, you’ve put all of them in danger by keeping this all a secret. Whoever put those cameras up knew you were keeping it a secret and hadn’t done anything in retaliation against you for finding them and destroying them. Maybe that was their plan all along. They knew you’d keep it a secret and use that to their advantage. Strike when they least expected it, or perhaps wait for the moment the truth inevitably came out and then strike. 

The thought has a cold chill running down your spine. 

You’re afraid for a different reason now. 

John and Kyle are gone. Anything could happen to them and it wouldn’t look suspicious. Or whoever put those cameras up wanted everyone split up. Attack when there’s less knights defending the castle. 

A shiver runs through you, making you curl in on yourself. The feeling of being watched is back. The darkness peeking out from around the blinds over the rec room windows suddenly feels very threatening. 

“What’s goin’ on in here?” 

A startled yelp leaves your lips as you whip around to face Johnny where he’s leaning against the door to the rec room. Simon’s body tenses in response to your fearful yelp, an unconscious motion he has no control over. Alphas will always have the drive to protect the omegas in their pack. It’s a natural protective mechanism, no matter how they may be feeling about said omega. 

Simon’s body relaxes as you do, putting a hand over your heart to try and calm yourself down again. 

“Jumpy this evenin’.” Johnny says, entering the rec room. He steps up to the couch, bending down to rest his hands on the arm next to you. “Didnae mean to scare ye.” He says softly. “Ready tae get to bed?” 

You nod. “Yeah. I am.” 

“Come on.” He holds out his hand and you take it, letting him help you up off the couch. “We’re usin’ yer shower, Si.” He says. 

Simon rolls his eyes. “Course.” 

“Simon?” You say before Johnny can pull you from the rec room. The alpha turns to look at you. “I am sorry.” 

He stares at you for a long, tense moment. “I know.” 

Johnny leads you down the hallway, his hand on your lower back. He’s gotten touchy again, letting his hand rest lower and lower on your back, brushing your breasts as he pulls the covers up around you at night. He refuses to let you shower without sitting on the toilet lid. You know the chances of Simon opening up like that again are slim, if at all. You’ve ruined that opportunity, and you’ll have to be satisfied with where he draws that line permanently. 

“Have a good conversation?” Johnny asks. 

You nod. “He called me ‘fucking stupid’.” 

Johnny nearly chokes for a second, covering his mouth to hide a laugh. “He’s certainly not a man of eloquence.” 

You shrug. “I mean, I don’t exactly disagree with him.” 

Johnny leads you into Simon’s room, steering you to the bathroom. Your stuff is already inside from the unanimous decision to solely use Simon’s bathroom for ease and also safety. 

Your towel is neatly on the rack next to Simon’s and Johnny’s, all folded the same way and hung evenly apart. Your soap and shampoo are neatly placed next to his, along with your toothbrush and other products on the sink. Always so neat and organized, despite his anger at you. 

Can’t break his system even after you break his trust. 

You pull your shirt over your head after starting the water, letting it get warm. Johnny stands behind you in the doorway, and you know he’s watching. You strip your shorts and underwear off, Johnny grunting quietly as you bend over to add them to your pile of dirty clothes. You’ve been tempted to leave them on the floor for the past two weeks just to peeve, but you’ve riled Simon up enough. With your luck he’d just toss them in the trash. 

The water is hot as it pelts your skin, your shoulders relaxing as it begins to loosen the stress of the day. The emptiness in your chest continues to eat away at you, never disappearing despite what happens. Your stomach churns, the nausea returning. You stand under the spray, letting the water pour over your head as you attempt to calm the continuous twisting in your abdomen. 

The shower door slides open, another body joining you before it slides closed. Warm skin presses against your back as arms slip around you, pulling you out from directly under the spray. You rest back against Johnny’s chest as he leans his cheek against the top of your head. 

“I miss them.” You say quietly, just audible over the shower. 

“I know.” Johnny says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“When will they be back?” You ask him, even though you know he can’t tell you. 

“Hard tae say.” He says, grabbing your strawberry scented soap from next to Simon’s. He’s just been using Simon’s soap, something you probably assume he does often anyway. “Kate will update us as soon as there’s a possible ETA.” 

“I don’t know how much longer I can take.” You say as he begins to wash your back. 

“I know.” He says, gently massaging the knots in your back, trying to help you relax. “I wish I could get them home faster. I wish it had been us instead of them for your sake.” 

His words make you feel guilty, but you both know it’s not anyone’s fault. John is your alpha, you belong to him, you were claimed by him. You’ll always hurt more about your alpha and beta’s absence than the other members of your pack can comfort you. If Simon had claimed you, things would have been different. The ache in your chest would have been less intense as you would still have an alpha you could lean on. 

You’d always miss John, but if you had Simon, the black hole slowly devouring you would have slowed its progress. 

Four weeks. 

A month. 

It's been a month since John and Kyle left. The familiar hole in your chest has widened, a gaping black hole now threatening to swallow you and string you out until you’re nothing but particles lost in its center. It’s worse than the hole Simon left when he went on his solo deployment, it’s worse than the hole they all left when they went on their first mission. Neither of those previous deployments lasted this long, and despite Johnny's attempts to console you, you don’t feel any better. 

There’s been no contact. 

A month with no contact, a month with no word. You'd know if something had happened. Even if you got no word on it, you would know. That sense that omegas have when something happens to the bond would be screaming. 

It's been a rough four weeks.

There’s a heaviness that’s started to permeate the air as you try to adjust to the prolonged absence of your alpha. It’s nearly every day that you’re breaking down now, standing in John’s room to catch any whiff of him that’s left. You’ve worn the scent off his bed, his pillows, his clothes. You’ve run out of shirts that smell like him. 

You’re terrified they might fade from your memory entirely. Kyle’s scent had disappeared quicker, fading fast until you were left unable to even picture the sea. The beach is a blurry, distant memory, the smell of the salty air faded and wiped away. 

Still you cling to their shirts, as if you can hold them through the fabric. You carry them everywhere, packing them from room to room as you float around in a daze. 

You’ve left the barracks once in four weeks for a training session that neither of them could miss. You’d gotten looks as you sat there, the sole audience member, but you're not quite sure what had happened or even what the training was far. You had been far away, lost in your own head, the haze of depression and grief numbing you to everything. 

Dr. Keller continues to visit you in the barracks, still more than you normally would see her. You miss her office, the soft warmth of it, the plants and the colors lacking from the sterilized prison that is the barracks. It has become like a prison. You’re trapped inside, unable to even wander around alone. You feel like the princess locked in her tower under the watchful eye of the guards keeping her trapped inside. You need someone to come and rescue you, someone to set you free so you can at least wander the tower alone. 

You want your alpha. 

You miss John and Kyle desperately, their absence chewing away at your insides. The hole in your chest continues to widen as the days pass, consuming more and more of you as you slip deeper and deeper into the black hole of depression. Johnny is being affected too, sucked in by the gravitational pull of the black hole you have become. Even Simon is starting to feel it, softening a bit more towards you. He’d even let your hands brush a couple of times when he’s escorted you places, and he didn’t yank them away like you might pass some disease onto him. 

You wouldn’t necessarily call him affectionate, even before all of this, but this is the first glimpse you’ve gotten of him being back to where the two of you were before you fucked everything up. You know it’s not going to happen overnight. It might never get back to what it was. He might simply be acting out of sympathy, and out of necessity because of your pain and grief being channeled through the pack bonds. Sometimes you wonder if John and Kyle can feel it too from wherever they are in the world. 

You miss them so much it hurts. 

The tears slip down your cheeks as you sit on the couch in the rec room. Johnny is off taking his turn to work out. It’s early, the sky still grey outside, the perfect epitome of how you feel inside. Simon is seated in his usual spot, book in hand. Your own that he had grabbed is still on the coffee table. You’re staring at it, tears gliding down your cheeks as you hold your knees against your chest. It’s become almost a normal occurrence, the tears, the blank staring, the lack of desire to do anything, even the position you’re seated in.

Simon glances up at you as you sniffle again, lowering his book slightly. “What?” His tone isn't annoyed per se, but you know he has to be tired of your constant blubbering. 

“Tell me they’ll be alright.” You say, your voice shaking. 

“You know I can’t-” He starts, but you cut him off. 

“I need you to tell me.” You sob, your gaze lifting to the black screen of the TV. “I can’t take it. I can’t do this.” 

He lets out a sigh, closing his book. You jump as the couch sinks down on your left, Simon taking a seat next to you. The flinch is subconscious as he reaches over to grip your chin and turn your face to look at him. Your tears slide down your cheeks, wetting his fingers. 

“They’ll be alright.” He says, eyes hard as he looks at you. He’s lying but you need to hear it. “They’ve been gone for far longer than this before. Trust Price knows what he’s doing. He’s going to do everything in his power to come back. We’ll know if something happens. Laswell will let us know.” 

You know that, you know all of it. Yet it does little to calm the pain in your chest. “I miss them.” You sob, Simon’s eyes softening as you continue to cry. “My stomach hurts.” 

You’ve been nauseous since the day the truth came out almost five weeks ago. The nausea has been churning in your stomach, making you constantly on the edge of vomiting. It’s the stress, the combination of the truth coming out and your alpha being gone. You’ve been choking food down, eating only out of necessity. 

Simon lets out a sigh, releasing your chin to wrap an arm around you. His other hand drops to rest on your stomach. It’s warm through the fabric of your shirt, applying gentle pressure. He smells like alpha, different from John, but still an alpha. The tears continue to fall as he holds you, your body slowly leaning closer and closer to him. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t even try to push you away as you fall against his side. 

Your stomach is churning, gnawing. It’s not an unusual feeling. It’s felt this way for the last few weeks. It’s never woken you up before, though. You blink in the darkness of Johnny’s room, his arm still thrown over you. The gnawing continues to intensify as you continue to be pulled from your semi-peaceful sleep, becoming more and more aware. 

You’re hungry. 

You slowly unravel yourself from Johnny’s snake-like hold, ready to slip into the rec room to peruse your snack stash. Instead you’re pulled back onto the bed by the arm that slips around your waist. 

“Where ye goin’?” Johnny rasps, still half asleep. 

“I’m hungry.” You whisper. 

He lets out a groan, letting go of you to rub a hand over his face. “Give me a minute.” 

You rise from the bed as he stretches, slowly sitting up as he draws himself from sleep. It’s just past one in the morning, neither of you having been asleep for long. You feel wide awake as the gnawing in your stomach continues to intensify. You rock back and forth on your feet, debating just going and letting him catch up. It’ll force him to wake up faster, and ease the gnawing hunger threatening to turn you inside out. 

Finally Johnny rises from the bed, stretching again as you impatiently open the door. He pads behind you to the rec room, watching as you dig out a bag of chips. He leans against the back of the couch as you stand there, devouring the chips like you haven’t eaten in days. You haven’t really eaten much in the last five weeks, so perhaps it’s finally catching up to you. You finish the bag but it’s not enough, so you grab another, devouring it halfway before you freeze. The bag begins to tremble in your hand, nearly falling from your grasp. 

Johnny is alert immediately as you begin to panic. “What?” He asks stepping closer to you, ready to defend you from whatever has you on edge. 

Your brain frantically does the math, thinking over the last few weeks. The bag falls to the floor as the realization slams into you like a bus. You turn to face Johnny, eyes wide in shock, fear shooting through you like lightning and clouding the rec room in the sour stench of omega fear.

Your lips tremble, the words stuttering out as you fight the panic rising in you, the nauseous churning of your stomach threatening to bring up the bag and a half of chips you just ate. Your fingers are shaking, clenching into fists again as they begin to go numb. Ragged breaths wheeze from your lungs as you stare at Johnny’s worried face, brows furrowed as he tries to understand what has you in a sudden panic at one in the morning. 

“My last heat was eleven weeks ago.” 

“The timeline is right,” Dr. Keller says, taking the blood pressure cuff off your arm. “The symptoms point to pre-heat.” 

You take another bite of your candy bar, eating half out of necessity and half because you’re nervous. You hadn’t even considered this when John left, but of course you didn’t know how long he would be gone. 

“Any word from John yet?” Dr. Keller asks as she packs the blood pressure monitor back into her bag. 

“None.” Johnny says, crossing his arms. “Kate sent out a message, but there’s been no response.” 

You’re numb to that fact, the hope that had filled you two days ago gone now that there’s been no word, not even for something like this. Simon had gone out of his way to call you when you needed him, but John can’t even send a simple message through, even a simple no. 

“We may have to consider alternative options if he can’t get back in time.” Dr. Keller says. 

He won’t get back in time. They’re all saying it silently. They all know it and so do you.

Your hands close into fists. You had hoped with your new pack and alpha you wouldn’t have to go through this again. But, of course with them having to put their job first, this was always a possibility. It was bound to happen eventually, you just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. 

“We’ll wait as long as we can.” Dr. Keller says, looking at you. “We don’t have forever, though.” 

You shove the rest of the candybar in your mouth. You don’t want to say anything, you don’t want to do anything. You’re numb except for the incessant hunger. You’ll know when it’s getting close, when the hunger fades and you’re facing down the reality that your alpha won’t be here. You know he won’t. Even if Kate can get ahold of him, he won’t make it back in time. 

You’re going to have to do this alone. 

Well...perhaps not. 

Maybe there is someone that can help you after all. 

You’re terrified. You’re not sure how to even approach this, how to bring it up. It’s eating you alive, but you have to ask. You have to know. That small bubble of hope still rising in you that maybe, just maybe you can avoid the horror awaiting you. It’s a big request, but perhaps you can be convincing enough to play to his pity. 

“Simon?” You ask, your hands curled into fists so they’re not visibly shaking. Your hair is dripping onto your shirt, soaking it but you don’t care. The cold is keeping you aware, keeping you from floating away into your head again. 

He grunts, looking up from his phone. You’d used the shower in his room again so he could watch you while Johnny took his own shower. You won’t sleep in here. You’ll stay with Johnny just like you have for the last almost five weeks. It’s safer, should your heat start in the middle of the night again. And also because he doesn’t want you to stay with him.

This is stupid. It’s a stupid decision but you need to know. 

What if he says yes?  

“Can I...ask you something?” You say, shifting nervously on your feet. 

He pockets his phone before pushing himself up to stand. He towers over you as he moves closer, staring down at you as you look up at him. Sometimes you forget just how big he is, just how commanding his presence can be. You fight the urge to cower, to submit to him in fear. “What?” 

The nervous lump in your throat threatens to choke you, the memories of his anger directed right at you burning right through you. What if he gets mad again? What if he reacts the same way? You can’t know what he will do, though. You steady yourself, wrapping the fabric of your shirt around your hands. 

“Will...” You clear your throat. “Will you help me through my heat?” 

It’s a big request. A huge request. You’re asking him to jump past barriers he’d kept up even before, something he’d never even suggested or hinted at wanting to do even before your last heat. You’re asking him to jump past barriers he’s put back up since your betrayal, making it clear you’re not welcome back in, you’re not going to get to where you were before. The most he’s done is let you lean against him that one night in the rec room. 

You hope maybe he’ll agree out of necessity, maybe he’ll take pity on you and save you from the horrors of going through a heat without an alpha. It may be stupid, but you’re terrified of what’s awaiting you if he doesn’t agree. You don’t want to do it, you don’t want to be put to sleep and then wake up a week later sick and disoriented, and then spend the next few days still in the same state. 

It makes your stomach churn, and not from hunger. 

His eyes widen in shock as your words register. His hands tighten into fists at his sides, his shoulders tensing. You fight the urge to flinch at the movement, the sudden hardening of his stance before you. He wasn’t expecting it, obviously. You came out of left field with it, but you have to ask. You’ll beg if you need to. You’ll get on your knees and beg like your life depends on it if he wants you to. Anything just to avoid what’s looming in the near future. 

His eyes harden as he stares down at you, and you suddenly begin to regret your decision to ask. His gaze is piercing, taking you back to when you confessed. You’ve made a mistake. You’ve made a huge mistake. 

“No.” 

The word is simple, two letters, one syllable, yet it slices right through you. You should have expected it, should have known that would be your answer, but it still hurts. He knows, he knows John isn’t coming back in time. He knows you’re going to have to do this alone. You had hoped maybe pity would push him into saying yes, maybe he’d open up a bit more before your heat started, maybe he might be merciful. 

“I can’t.” He takes a step back, then another. His gaze softens to what you almost perceive as panic. He shakes his head. “I can’t.” 

So maybe it wasn’t anger at you keeping him from agreeing. You can feel it, the edge to his scent starting to cloud it, the way his hands open and close as he squeezes them into fists over and over. 

Tears burn your eyes as you stare at him, lifting your hands so they’re laced together in front of you. You knew that would be the answer, yet you can’t stop the disappointment. “Oh.” That's all you can say. You don’t trust yourself to say much else. 

You swallow the lump in your throat as Johnny appears in the doorway, looking between the two of you before his eyes settle on you. He can tell something happened, something transpired between the two of you while he was gone. How much of it he heard, you’re not sure. Perhaps none at all judging by the look on his face. 

“Ready for bed?” He asks, his gaze cautious. He’s trying to assess the situation, figure out what could have transpired to cause such a reaction between you and his alpha. He’ll never know. Not unless Simon tells him. 

“Yeah.” You breathe, scurrying out of Simon’s room before you can make more of a fool out of yourself. 

“H-How long will it take?” You ask, your heart thudding in your chest. Your pre-heat symptoms had stopped earlier this morning, the hunger gone, the itching beginning under your skin. 

“As soon as your temperature goes up, we’ll get started.” Dr. Keller says, sticking electrodes to your chest. You’ve already got the blood pressure cuff around your arm and pulse monitor on your finger. 

“Ye were prepared for this.” Johnny says, sitting next to the hospital bed. You’re in a private room, well away from any others, even though no one will know you’re in heat. There won’t be any scent projecting, no neediness, no aching. You won’t be aware at all that anything is happening as your body rapidly cycles through that sudden flood of hormones. 

Dr. Keller nods. “This was always a possibility, so I made sure I had everything on hand for when it did happen.” She takes your temperature again. “Tell me when you start to feel warm. The last thing I want to do is send you under too late.” 

Your skin crawls at her words, memories flashing back to the time you were put under too late. You trust Dr. Keller to take care of you, though. She’s far more competent and aware than that nurse had been. It’s her job to take care of you, to watch after you in moments like this. 

You just wish you could talk to John before you go under. 

You want to remember his voice when you come back out. 

“I’ll be here the whole time.” Johnny says, taking your hand, obviously sensing your discomfort. 

He’s brought a bag of things with him, since he’ll be staying with you for the few days it’ll take to get through your heat. It won’t be as long this time, your body being forced through those hormones quickly. It won’t even register it needs a knot, flying through those symptoms. 

The wait is the worst part. It takes forever, every minute seeming to take an hour. Johnny waits dutifully by your side. You wish this wasn’t the first heat he would be here for. You wish he had at least gotten some experience with a normal heat, just so this one wouldn’t scare him off. Even Kyle might have been shaken by it, though, even with his experience. 

Eventually the heat begins to prickle under your skin, your heart rate jumping. Johnny calls in Dr. Keller, looking nervous as sweat begins to bead on your forehead. 

“It’s time.” Dr. Keller says, taking your temperature. It’s jumped quickly, your body starting to prepare for the onslaught of hormones about to be released. 

She turns your arm, hooking up the IV that will deliver the sedative as well as fluids to keep you hydrated. The heart monitor beeps rapidly as you grow nervous, Johnny squeezing your hand gently. You know he’s trying, and there’s nothing more he can really do. There’s no stopping this. It’s going to happen no matter what. 

“I’m going to administer the sedative. You’ll start to feel sleepy.” Dr. Keller says. “I’ll put in the feeding tube after you’re out.”

You swallow nervously, sweat starting to bead on your forehead. “It’ll be okay right?” 

Dr. Keller gives you a soft smile “You’ll be just fine. It’ll be a few days for us, but it’ll be a few seconds for you. It’ll be over before you know it.” 

You swallow nervously before nodding. Dr. Keller pushes the sedative through the IV, your body starting to relax as it begins to take effect. The itching under your skin stops, the heat fading as the ceiling gets further and further away as your vision tunnels. Johnny squeezing your hand is the last thing you remember before everything goes dark. 

He’s seen a lot of things, done a lot of things that would make the average person violently ill. He’s no stranger to blood and gore, yet he can’t watch as Dr. Keller inserts the feeding tube into your nose. The thought of having it in his own body makes him nearly gag, his eyes closing as he breathes. 

“I’m done.” Dr. Keller says, a small smile on her face as he turns back around. 

“About gart me boak.” He says, looking at you where you appear to be sleeping peacefully. He supposes you are, blissfully unaware of anything and everything around you.

“You’re not good with needles either, are you?” She asks, obviously noticing how he had turned away when she put in your IV. 

“Not my favorite.” He admits. 

“She’s all set.” She says, stepping back. “You’ll want to move her every few hours, turn her on one side, lift her legs up. Keeps her from getting bed sores or blood clots. I’ll be next door, and I’ll check on her periodically. If anything happens at night, I’ll have my phone on full volume.” 

“Thank ye, doctor.” He says, squeezing your hand despite the fact you can’t feel it. 

Dr. Keller takes her leave, the room going quiet aside from the beeping of the heart monitor, and the occasional buzzing of the blood pressure cuff as it tightens around your arm. He stares at you for a long moment, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest as you sleep. It’s probably the most peaceful sleep you’ve gotten in the last few weeks, despite the changes happening internally. Dr. Keller had explained it to him, the hormonal changes, how sedation works differently than going through a heat consciously. Omegas do go through heat cycles awake and aware without an alpha sometimes. Institutes cycle between isolated heats and sedation. 

The thought of you going through both makes his stomach twist. 

Sweat beads on your forehead as you lay there, something that will continue for the next few days, the doctor said. Your heart rate is higher than normal, another sign that you’re in your heat as your brain cycles through the sudden rush of hormones. He’s not quite sure what to expect, not quite sure what it’ll look like if something goes wrong. He’s never done this before, and the little research he’d done doesn’t feel all that helpful. Dr. Keller trusts him to know, though, and he supposes it’ll be pretty obvious should something go wrong. 

You’re not going to be doing much aside from laying there for the next few days. 

The hours seem to drag on and he can’t help but wonder if this is how Kyle feels during your heats. At least Kyle had a job to do, had to focus and listen for the breaks in between rounds when he’d go in, ensure nothing was wrong, nothing happened, that you’re being fed and taken care of. All he has is the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the occasional buzz and crinkling of nylon as the blood pressure cuff expands. Dr. Keller brings him meals, keeping him fed and occasionally keeps him company as he watches dutifully over you. His back is aching from the uncomfortable chair and the makeshift bed, but he can hardly complain. He’s slept on worse. 

He’s sketched a lot in the silence between watching videos on his phone and napping. It’s been a peaceful time, aside from his initial worry. You sleep away, sweat still beading on your forehead. Every so often he grabs a wet paper towel, wiping away the sweat. 

He jumps as his alarm on his phone goes off in the silence, his pencil falling to the floor. He picks it up, setting his sketchbook to the side before he gets up. He’s careful as he slips his arms under you, easing you over onto your side. He bends your legs, making sure you’re steady and not cutting off circulation anywhere. He runs a hand over your hair, the strands starting to slip out of the braid he had put in before your trip to the med center. 

He moves around to the other side of the bed, pulling the tie out before undoing the braid. He’s careful as he redoes it as best he can, making sure not to pull too tightly on the strands. The last thing you need when you wake up is to feel like your hair is being yanked out of your head. 

He ties off the braid before moving back to his seat, staring at your peaceful face for a moment. It’s nothing new to him, but he can’t help but stare. He’s seen you sleep many times, held you, watched you blissfully unaware of the world. The softness in your face, the worry and the stress and the weight on your shoulders of just being who you are gone. 

He picks his sketchbook back up, going back to drawing. 

His stomach churns nervously. There’s a subtle shake to his hands, something that doesn’t happen often. He likes to think he’s prepared for anything, conditioned enough to not be shaken by anything. Yet he can’t help but feel unsure as Dr. Keller closes off your IV. 

“She’ll be coming out of it soon.” Dr. Keller says. “She’ll be confused, disoriented. She might get combative. Your job is to talk to her, try to calm her and help ease her back into awareness. She’s a crier after heats, so I don’t doubt there will be tears. She may get sick as well.” She gives him a reassuring smile. “It’ll be alright. Coming out of a heat is hard, and so is coming out of sedation. Both at the same time is always a struggle.” 

There was a time he thought maybe sedation would be the easiest way to deal with a heat, but from what he’s hearing, he might have been wrong. Sure it might be easier in the moment to not have those week long symptoms of intense desire, the fever, the desperation. Coming out of it though? From what he’s heard so far, it’s not as easy as it sounds. He’s been through it, coming out of sedation after an injury in the field. It’s a confusing feeling, disorienting enough before you find out days or weeks have passed. It’s hard to conceptualize without all those hormones going crazy in your head. 

You start to stir, your brows pinching as you slowly begin to wake. You let out a groan, reaching for the feeding tube immediately. Dr. Keller gently pushes your hands away, nodding to Johnny. Your brows furrow deeper, a groan leaving your lips as you begin to move more and more. 

“Easy, kitten.” He says, leaning down close to you, projecting his scent so you can hopefully get a whiff of it to help calm you. “I’ve got ye. Yer alright.” He brushes your hair back from your sweaty forehead as you continue to groan. He takes your hand as you reach for the tube again, squeezing it gently.

You crack your eyes open for a moment before quickly pinching them shut. Dr. Keller reaches up, turning off the overhead light before leaning down close to you again. She’s projecting her natural beta scent as well to try and help calm you. “I’m going to remove the tube, I know it’s uncomfortable.” 

Johnny has to look away again as Dr. Keller removes the feeding tube, pressing his face into your hair as he projects his scent even more. You squeeze his hand back, the other gripping the side of the bed. You take in a harsh, gasping breath before you begin to cry, tears spilling out of your eyes as you sob. He had heard that you’re a crier after your heat from Kyle, he’s just never witnessed it before. 

It takes him back to just a few weeks ago in John’s office when you had sat there crying as they interrogated you. It had made him uneasy, the stress and the fear clouding your scent. The fear he’d felt in those moments, listening to you cry and panic, nearly sending yourself into distress before John had calmed you. He might have done more, but he had been angry, angry at whoever put those cameras in your room, and slightly at you for keeping it from them for so long. 

He can’t blame it completely on you, though. That had been back in the time where you still weren’t sure if you could trust them, before you fully opened yourself to them. Maybe they were slightly at fault for not making you feel like you could trust them, for not being realistic with you about the dangers. Sure you had been warned, had it drilled into your head why your safety was paramount, but maybe they had kept too much hidden from you. Maybe they had put you in more danger by trying to keep you safe. 

Your eyes are still pinched closed as you continue to cry, sobs wracking your body as you grip his hand tightly. It tugs at his chest as he whispers quietly against your hair, trying to get you to recognize him, pull you out of the confusion and disorientation you must be feeling. You begin to hyperventilate, your hand slipping from his as you try to push yourself up. Dr. Keller already has the bed lifting, her other hand holding a vomit bag in front of you. It seems almost instinctual, but she’s been through this many times before. She had told him how many during one of their talks, when he’d asked her how long she's been working with omegas. He hadn’t realized just how little he really knew about your doctor before now. 

Johnny has to look away as you vomit into the bag, his own stomach churning. Not just because of you being ill, but also because of how distressing this all seems. How you haven’t gone into distress is a miracle to him, but perhaps you’re still too out of it to be that aware. 

Your breathing has calmed just slightly, your forehead beaded with sweat. Dr. Keller removes the vomit bag from in front of you, grabbing another and setting it on your lap. 

“I’m going to dispose of this.” She says. “She’s going to be sick for a while. I’ll grab more fluids and I’ll be back shortly.” 

Johnny nods, wiping at the sweat on your brow. You lean into his touch, letting out a quiet whine. His touch is gentle, almost scared he might hurt you in your fragile state. You’re still crying, the tears cascading down your cheeks. His chest hurts, guilt and sorrow churning inside of him from seeing you in this state. All thought that sedation was the best option goes out the window as he holds the vomit bag for you, keeping your braid out of the way. 

Kyle had told him about what it was like during your heat and after, partially to feed his curiosity, but also in case something like this happened where he had to be the one taking care of you. He’d heard about the pain, the tears, the disorientation. This is different, though. This is far worse than what Kyle had described to him. 

Dr. Keller returns, IV bag in hand. She removes the empty bag and replaces it with the full one, hooking it up to your IV. You have to be thirsty after a few days of having nothing but a feeding tube and the fluids to keep you going during your fever. 

Johnny catches her hand as she pulls out a syringe, small enough to be discreet. Something tickles in the back of his mind as he stares at it, his instincts on edge. 

“What is that?” He asks, starting to get defensive, his metaphorical hackles rising.  

“Pain medicine.” She says simply, handing it to him. She has to be able to read him, sensing the sudden protectiveness wafting off of him. 

He takes the syringe, reading the label. Morphine. He feels silly for distrusting the doctor. She’s never proven herself untrustworthy. While he knows they can’t be too trusting of anyone, she’s never done you any harm, never given them a reason to suspect her. She wouldn't hurt you, not after the dedication he’s seen from her these last few days alone. 

“She might need it later once she’s more aware.” She continues, taking the syringe back when he hands it to her, putting it back in her pocket. “Her body just went through an intense hormonal cycle and those hormonal levels are now dropping suddenly. It can cause a wide range of symptoms from crying to illness to physical pain. When omegas are allowed to go through that cycle naturally, usually with an alpha, the symptoms of coming down from that cycle are typically less severe compared to when sedation is used, of course besides the physical pain. The pain with sedation is obviously quite different from the pain when the cycle happens naturally with an alpha.” 

Johnny’s brows furrow as he rests his hand over yours, your breaths stuttering through your sobs. Your hands are clutching at the blanket, one of yours he’d grabbed from your room in hopes the familiar comfort might help you through the process. He hates that you’re in pain like this, he hates that you’re in pain at all. He’s beginning to feel the bubbling anger deep in his stomach at Simon for letting you endure this. He has no idea. He’s isolated himself for your safety, and he’ll never get to see what this is like, what you’re going through right now. 

Dr. Keller says your name softly, leaning against the side of the bed, electing to ignore the swirling emotions of her fellow beta. He’s not her concern, you are. “Can you open your eyes for me?” 

You continue to cry, but you manage to get your eyes opened, squinting at her through your tears. Dr. Keller takes your face in her hands, using her thumbs to gently pull down your lower lids, trying to get a good look at your eyes. You try to jerk away, letting out possibly the cutest defiant sound Johnny has ever heard, and he might have reacted had it been a different situation. Instead he leans over the side of the bed again, talking to you quietly so you calm a bit. You do relax at the sound of his voice, his scent projecting even more to try and comfort you, bring you back into reality. 

“There we go.” Dr. Keller says, looking at your eyes before she gives you a soft smile. “Welcome back.” She removes her hands from your face leaning against the bed rail again. “It's all over. You did perfectly.”

You let out another groan, lifting a hand weakly before letting it drop back against your stomach. 

“I know you're thirsty.” Dr. Keller says. “I'll get you some soon. We need to make sure your stomach has settled for now.” 

Your eyes squeeze closed as you start to cry again, your inhales shaky as the tears start sliding down your cheeks. Johnny shushes you gently, petting your hair. Sweat still drips down your face, your hands curling around the edge of the blanket. 

You try to push yourself up to sit, Dr. Keller immediately understanding what you need again as she lifts the vomit bag up to your mouth.

Johnny peels your hand from around the blanket, holding it tightly. His own stomach is churning but he swallows it back, bringing your hand up to his face. He kisses the back, the skin clammy and warm to the touch. Your scent is a swirl of things he’s never smelled before, drowning out the natural sweetness. Kyle had mentioned how your scent and John’s change during the heat and after. He hardly recognizes it right now, and he finds himself missing the sweet scent of strawberries. 

Your fingers squeeze around his as you lay back against the bed, eyes cracked open and sniffling as the tears continue to slide down your cheeks. You let out a groan, tugging weakly at his hand. 

“Hi kitten.” He says, leaning over the bed rail again. “Yer alright. Get ye feeling better soon.” 

Your inhale is shaky, catching in your chest. You weakly tug his hand towards your face pressing your sweaty cheek against his skin. You nuzzle against his hand, your tongue darting out to lick his skin. He can't help but chuckle, wiping at a tear that falls with his thumb. You’re still out of it, but he knows that’s a sign that you’re starting to come through, starting to come back to yourself through the haze. 

You let out a long groan as you pull away from his hand, licking at your lips. They're horribly chapped, almost rivaling Simon's, but at least you have an excuse.

“Thirsty?” Dr. Keller asks, returning to the bedside with a cup of water. “Drink slowly, you'll get sick again.” She warns, holding the straw up to your lips. 

You manage to do as she says and take small sips of the water despite how thirsty he knows you must be. Johnny keeps caressing your face with his thumb, your fingers still laced with his. 

“Let me get your vitals.” Dr. Keller says, setting the cup of water on the table. You let out a groan in protest, smacking your lips, obviously wanting more. “You can have more in a minute. Too much on your stomach could upset it, and I’m sure the last thing you want to do right now is get sick again.”

You let out a quiet grunt, leaning your cheek against his hand once again. Your skin is still a bit warm to the touch, but that could just be from the exertion of trying to come out of sedation and being sick. Dr. Keller takes your vitals once more, recording them on her sheet. She’s been tracking them your entire heat, using them to judge how far along you are since she doesn’t have the benefit of you being awake to track the symptoms that way. He had wondered why she tracked them on paper, but then he remembered John telling him about how Shepherd had requested all of your private records and Dr. Keller’s notes. 

She is smart. He’ll give her that. 

“Things look good, even if you might not feel like it right now.” She says.

You try to shift on the bed but you let out a quiet groan, freeing your hand from his. 

“Hurting?” Dr. Keller asks.

You nod, letting out a whine. It tickles in the back of his brain, his beta wanting to reach out and comfort you, but he knows he can’t. He can’t ease the physical pain. One downside to beta evolution. Their ancestors never learned how to fix physical pain. Maybe that would have made them too perfect. All he can do is try to comfort you through it. 

“Let's get some pain meds in you.” She says, pulling the syringe out of her pocket again. “Then we can get you somewhere more comfortable.”

She injects the pain medicine through your IV, giving it a few minutes to begin working before disconnecting you from all the machines. Johnny helps her get you in a sweatshirt, wanting to keep you warm. You are shaking, though what that might be related to he’s not sure. Perhaps everything. 

Dr. Keller hands him the cup of water. “Keep her drinking. I'll go grab a car, then we can get her back to the barracks.” 

You feel far too light in Johnny’s arms as he carries you from the car into the barracks. Simon is nowhere to be seen, though he hadn’t expected a welcome back party from his alpha. He’s probably still hiding out in his office, or in the gym, his usual hiding spot. Johnny is kind of glad he’s not here, though he would like to rub it in his face, the decision he’d made. 

Johnny takes you to his room, still avoiding yours. It’s almost like a crime scene, Johnny tempted to take it off. He knows placing you in there might make you panic when you wake up after everything. That’s the last thing he wants. So instead he takes you to the place you’ve spent the last almost six weeks in, somewhere you’ll recognize the scent and be comfortable when you wake up. 

You roll onto your side as soon as he lays you down, curling up on his blankets. He drapes yours over you, tucking it around your shoulders before he steps back out into the hallway. 

“Keep her hydrated. Lots of water, tea, clear sodas.” Dr. Keller instructs him. “She'll be drowsy for a while because of the pain medicine. Give her a couple hours and once the pain meds wear off and her stomach settles a bit, try her with some bland foods. She did well with mashed potatoes after her last heat. She’s going to be out of it and sick for a few days. Keep an eye out for anything abnormal. Vomiting blood, can’t keep food down, if she complains about pain somewhere or is hard to wake, give me a call.” 

“Got it.” Johnny nods, committing everything she’s told him in the last ten minutes to memory. 

“You did really well.” She says, giving him a soft smile. “You should be proud of yourself.” 

“Thank you, doctor.” He nods, internally beaming at her praise. 

“Keep me updated, and don’t be afraid to call.” She says. 

He watches her walk to the door, Simon’s door opening as soon as she’s gone. He at least looks guilty, like the shame is eating him alive. Johnny hasn’t seen him like this in a long time, not since he caused you to distress. It makes him a little too happy to see him in such a state. 

“How is she?” He asks, not moving from in front of his door. 

The sound of you vomiting into a vomit bag reaches their ears. Simon at least has the decency to flinch at the sound. It’s subtle, probably unnoticeable had Johnny not been able to read his alpha like a book. 

“Sick.” He says, trying to hide his anger and disappointment. They’re complex feelings. He knew Simon would turn you down if you asked for his own reasons, but now after seeing what happens when there’s no alpha available during a heat, he almost hates Simon for doing this to you. “Confused. Still a bit out of it.” 

“You know I couldn’t do it.” Simon says, using that uncanny ability to read everyone around him. 

Johnny hates it sometimes.

He turns to glance at you through his open door as you continue to be sick. You’re going to be miserable for the next few days, likely more than you are usually after your heats. This one will be less physical pain after taking knots for a week straight, and more pain from being sedated, pain from being mostly immobile, pain from just being alive and carrying this status. Such pain omegas live with, physically, mentally, emotionally. 

He hates it. 

“Ye don’t know what it was like.” He says, his hands closing into fists. “Seeing her like that.” 

You let out a long whine, a sob tearing from your chest as you inhale. Tears prick behind Johnny’s eyes as he holds Simon’s gaze. “Ye just had to say no.” He shakes his head, turning to go back into his room. 

He doesn't want to tell you. He can see the look on your face already. The disappointment. The pain. The agony. He can smell the souring of your scent already, the painful grief filling it and there will be nothing he can do to ease it. It's a rare moment they've left you alone in the last month and a half, forced to after a call with Kate and Shepherd.

He's not even sure how to approach it. 

He opens his bedroom door slowly, his stomach clenching as he looks in at you. You're on the bed, wrapped in a blanket where he left you, cuddled against your big bear. He doesn't want to wake you, especially not for this but he has to. He has no choice. You have to know. 

He lets out a sigh as he sinks down on the edge of his bed, gently putting a hand on your shoulder. “Kitten?” He shakes you gently. “Kitten, wake up.”

You inhale sharply, startling awake despite his attempt to be gentle. There’s a sharp spike of fear in your scent for a moment as you’re yanked from sleep suddenly, but it fades as soon as you realize where you are and who is with you. You turn over onto your back, winding up resting against his knee as you rub your eyes. 

“Johnny?” You croak, still partly asleep. 

“Si and I just got off a call with Kate.” He says carefully, not wanting to scare you too much. 

You're wide awake immediately, pushing yourself up to sit. You swallow nervously, your scent already souring. “What is it?” Your voice wavers as you ask, eyes already shining with tears. 

“John and Kyle are fine.” He says, regretting not starting with that. He can see the temporary relief on your face. “But, they need some backup for this one.” 

It takes a moment for your brain to process his words. A hole tears through the center of his chest as he watches the realization hit, your face falling as your scent begins to sour even more. Your arms wrap around yourself as you stare at him, the relief gone from your face as you stare at him. He swallows the lump in his own throat, your scent causing his beta to stir, the drive to comfort you itching in his brain. He can’t though, he can’t comfort you through this. 

Your voice shakes, a tear sliding down your cheek as you figure out what it is he woke you to say, why Kate had called. Your inhale is shaky, catching in your chest before you speak. 

“You're both leaving too, aren’t you.” 

NEXT ->

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[reignpage]

The Other Man

Pt 2

Your worst nightmare is avoiding your eyes. 

Still sweating and slightly out of breath from the sprint you made from your home to the hospital, you try to wipe your hands down the material of your jeans, and you’re mortified to find them shaking. 

Is it from adrenaline or from fear? 

When they said they found your husband, alive, and he’s been fixed up all brand new, you thought everything would be fine, that things would go back to normal. Your home will finally stop being so stifling, you won’t burn a hole through your carpet from all the pacing like your friend tried to joke, and you no longer have to hold yourself at night just to stop from hyperventilating.

But when you look at his eyes and see only confusion and a drop of anxiety, you know something’s gone terribly wrong. 

“He suffered trauma to the head and we noticed no signs of it during surgery, so the symptoms only showed up now. We’re sorry we hadn’t been able to warn you ahead of time,” the doctor says. 

Maybe now your hands are shaking from anger. 

You step towards the doctor, the sterile smell of latex gloves and death stinging your nose, and you splutter out, “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with my husband? Why is no one just telling me straight up?”

He flinches. 

They both do. 

You don’t feel bad, can’t feel bad. 

The doctor opens his mouth and he’s explaining, rambling about all sorts of medical terms you don’t know and it’s likely he’s doing it to distract you, or punish you, but you do hear one word. It registers and sends a static ringing through your ears. 

“It would seem your husband has developed retrograde amnesia.”

Amnesia. 

When he finishes, a silence takes over, filling up the room and pressing you to the walls, daring you to suck in a breath. A beat or two passes whilst he wait for either one of you to say something, ask something, anything. But no one does, so he leaves and immediately you wish he stayed. 

“Hi.”

His voice breaks you out of your internal panicking. It has a slight quiver, perhaps from the deep sleep he had been under, or the exhaustion that had built up, the price to pay for saving so many people in one night. The reports said, on the night he disappeared, that there had been many curses, strong ones, gathered in an organised attack, an ambush. They had backed your husband in a corner and pushed him to his limits. 

They did this. 

You try to smile. 

“Hi, baby, how you doing?”

There’s a blush forming across his cheeks and you smile for real, finding his embarrassment adorable, but then it drops just as quick when he clears his throat, as if setting a boundary. 

“So,” he drags out, “you’re my wife, huh?”

What’s the procedure for losing your loved one to an internal injury so bad you feel it cut deep? What’s the etiquette? Because you’re so sure screaming at him to stop playing this cruel joke is probably not a good idea; you already know what the doctors would say.

It would be unwise to push him.

Your steps are hesitant but you push through that invisible force keeping you back. You need to touch him, need to feel that, despite it all, he’s warm and real and breathing — at least one of you has to be. 

He looks up at you from your position beside his bed and watched your hand lift towards his face. He doesn’t move, he steels himself for your sake, you know it, because your husband has always been the kindest, most empathetic man you’ve ever met. 

Then you cradle his slightly cut up cheek and tears stream down before you even know it, a laugh bubbles out and you sob it out. He’s really alive. 

“I’m so happy you came back.”

He smiles, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s still a genuine smile and your heart leaps. If he can smile at you like that even without the pull of the shared memories of his time with you, then surely there’s hope. Because through his dazzling eyes, always dazzling, you believe there’s a huge box of everything he had filed on you, on his love for you, his wishes and desires for for you both. It’s just locked away at the moment, but you’ll find a key. 

You have to. 

“I must have been pretty great to bag a gorgeous woman like you.” 

“The greatest.”

He laughs in surprise. He did that every time you played along, because no one else ever had, not his own family or his friends, and not even himself. 

And the hours pass by with him asking questions and you answering patiently, despite the stab at your chest from every moment he forgot, every special occasion he doesn’t remember, and you both relive the bad times, the terrible times. 

Except he’s going it through for the first time. 

All the nurses and doctors filter in and out, changing this, emptying that, wiping here, walking there, and throwing all sorts of information at you. Eventually, they give you a care pack full of pamphlets filled with numbers and websites for support, letting you know he’s free to leave, but that check-ups will have to be frequent to monitor his progress. 

You can tell he’s getting tired; you don’t blame him, it’s been too much too fast. So you tell him, “Alright, handsome, it’s time to go home.”

He cheers up at that, eagerly packing and hobbling out of the hospital and into your car. The car ride home isn’t quiet like you had dreaded, it’s loud, bustling with more questions and excited remarks. 

“No way. He ate that finger? That’s so funny.”

“Oh, his hair is really that spiky? And she puts up with both of them? Wow.”

“He’s still teaching? That’s great.”

When you pull up to the house at the end of the street, all the lights are off and you feel a little embarrassed that it doesn’t look inviting, and  of course you forgot to clean up the dishes and vacuum the carpet. Maybe you should have gotten balloons and streamers, maybe invited his friends. You know the doctor said don’t overwhelm him, but they’ll definitely come knocking sooner than later. 

That’s how loved your husband is. 

You have a bashful smile when you finally glance up at him, both walking up to the door, and it plummets at the disappointed look on his face. He doesn’t care about the lights, only that the home he had been expecting is the one across the city, the one you had made him move out of years ago so you could live together as a soon to be wedded pair. 

Now, he’ll have to live in your home as a guest, borrowing your cups and plates, and wearing clothes he didn’t buy but the other man did, and then he’ll be sleeping next to you. 

A stranger. 

You gulp the horrified scream down and, with shaky hands, you unlock the door, ignoring the overwhelming feeling that you’re losing an uphill battle, that things will never be the same, and he’ll never love you, not like he did. 

Your husband is loyal to a fault; he won’t leave you, not because he loves you, not because he can’t imagine being anywhere else but here, with you, but because there’s a ring on his left finger that he keeps playing around with like it feels wrong to have it on. 

And the realisation that you don’t care, that you have enough love for the both of you, that you want, need, to have him in any way he’ll let you, creates a dull ache in your stomach.

You don’t try to smile when you turn to him, even when he does. 

All you say is,

“Welcome home, Satoru.”

[starillusion13]

Hi! Your fics are so good! specially the ot8xreader fic 💖💖💖

Can i also request ot8xreader, you suddenly disappeared and they thought you ran away (with their money and jewelries) and betrayef them but in reality one of their female employees leads you to nowhere and tried to kill you (because she is jealous and wants the boys for herself) she make it looks like you ran away to make the boys mad at you but you are laying in hospital bed comatose for months. one of boys/or member of the mafia saw you in hospital when they tried to smuggle medical equipments and report it to ateez.

I hope it make sense 😅 Thank you

You are our Home

Pairing: Mafia! Ateez x f!reader

Genre: Angst, Mafia, Fluff

W.C: 8.2k

Warnings: arguments, regret, trust issues, cheating(?), hints of torture, mention of cuts and wounds(just the pain not detailed), mention of hospital and mafia business and deals, traumas and betrayals, comatose, stroke, nausea, scared, crying, lies. A lot shit is going on in the fic.

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

Note: Thanks for reading and reblogging. I appreciate all of your reviews and feel free to text me if you want. Spread love to others, not hate. I don’t know what’s up to with the requests coz all are Angst at this point. But I have included fluff here. Clap your hands👏.

“Are you sure she is not home?”

“Seonghwa, I have gone there myself to check the whole place. Even few of her things are missing. Something is not setting right here.” Hongjoong’s impatient voice echoed through the speaker in the room. The members round the table were all attentive to the conversation between the two older ones. “Yeosang is tracking her id but he couldn’t find anything important. And what about San? Did he come back?”

Hearing the question, Seonghwa looked towards Wooyoung who shook his head and the older one sighed before delivering the message to their leader on call. Before hanging up the call, he informed the three members to come back to their office for further discussion about you. They last heard your voice yesterday evening when you were asking them if they would return yesterday or the next day. They didn’t know that the next day, instead of finding you waiting for them at the parking lot, they will be greeted to an empty cabin.

Usually, whenever they go to overseas missions, you pass on it because you intend to maintain all the procedures in the office and home. They respect your thoughts and opinions a lot so they never said anything on those way of thinking. Just like other trips, they bid goodbye to you and they went off to the designated country. When they reached there, you had a video call with them and they assured you that they would return soon—one month would pass in a blink. But maybe something went wrong. With the passing of days, you became distant with them, not picking up their calls or maybe just leaving a short text message ‘I’m busy’ and your close employee friend, Amy supported your side, telling them that the company had some issues ongoing with money and she also sent them all the details where it was always your duty to do it. Generally, they didn’t mind but they were worried for you overworking yourself so they told Amy to look after you. She assured them that she would be always by your side and would manage to do the most of the works.

Today, it was their day of return and last evening hearing your voice over the call made them impatient to come back home soon. They wanted to talk to you a lot but somehow you were not in a mood to hold a long conversation with them and so they didn’t ask you anything much. It was okay because they knew very next moment you will be in their arms and then they will keep you away from workloads for a while. But who knew, you won’t be anywhere in their surroundings.

San slammed the door open and glared at the ones present inside the room. The one who was sitting near the door rolled his eyes, knowing his over-dramatic acts like usual but when he caught his gaze, he could see the fire in his eyes.

Seonghwa raised his brow from the end of the table, “What happened, San?” Wooyoung and Mingi close to him were also watching San shuffling his hairs in anger and threw the glass from the table beside Jongho, who was already annoyed with him from earlier.

“Where is Hongjoong?”

Wooyoung was quick to reply, “He was on a call with us almost an hour back. They went to our home and then they will stop by the store to pick up some packages. They will be back soon.” Mingi nodded and went back to check some important news, displaying on his phone screen.

“Who else has the access to the shared account?”

“What do you mean by that, San? You know we don’t use that account and it’s only get handled by y/n. after she returns, you can ask her about it if it has any problem.” Seonghwa said it calmly but he could see the impatient and a flick of rage in the man’s eyes. San again picked up a glass but got stopped by Jongho, “don’t throw it again.”

They glared at each other before gulping down the water and he turned towards the oldest one.

“did she tell anything about transacting large amount of money? You know the account is empty as well as the spare account doesn’t have any money. The locker with the expensive jewels in her cabin is also empty. Why does she need so much of money all of a sudden?”

Everyone was shocked on hearing him. You needed money and for what? Nobody had any sort of hint that maybe you were going through some rough days, they would have consulted things with you. They would have tried to make you relax but no—you kept everything to yourself and didn’t tell anything to them. You were in some trouble and the thought itching their mind to ask you about it.

“her phone is still switched off.” Jongho sighed and sat on the couch beside Mingi who glanced at the clock.

San sat beside Wooyoung, “What’s even going on? There is no news of her whereabouts. She is not picking up her calls and now all these moneys and jewelleries are missing. I want her to explain me everything right now.”

“San, calm down. I am sure she has her own reasons for this.”

“And when do you think will she return, Mingi? Are you sure we are just going to sit and wait for her?”

Before the other could say anything, the door slammed open and Hongjoong entered furiously with Yeosang and Yunho trailing behind him. Neither of them appeared any less frustrated than the leader. Wooyoung was still staring at the door until it got closed by Yunho. He sighed and looked away—he thought you might enter the room with them and then would surprise them with a silly joke and the rest of the day will end up with you getting scolded but in the end you knew it was because they care for you.

Where are you?

“What’s the news, Yeosang?”

Hongjoong sat on his chair and ruffled his hairs, Seonghwa patted his back and looked towards the hacker who was being asked a question by the youngest.

“Nothing Jongho. We can’t find her anywhere. It’s still showing her last location was at the A.T.M and we checked the C.C.T.V but she was pretty normal when entering it and exiting the stall. I don’t why was she there-“

“to withdraw all the moneys from her shared account and the private one.”

Hongjoong raised his brows at San, “why do you think so?”

“Amy showed me all the past transactions from her side. She might not have withdraw all the money in person but has transferred to some other accounts.” He signalled Yeosang to open his laptop and the one was quick in action, “Can you search the accounts that are connected with hers where the money got transferred?”

Yunho scanned the room, “but why did she need such large amount of money? I am pretty sure she would have told one of us if she was in trouble.”

Seonghwa nodded and walked towards the wide large glass window and stared at the city. He was trying to find your location in the chaos of the city, his eyes were roaming everywhere as if he could get a glimpse of you. He was behaving like a lost boy desperate for you to hug him. Maybe he was a the second in command after the most feared mafia leader, Hongjooong--- in the end it’s you with whom they are the real persons, they can be themselves. Tears flowed down his eyes and he didn’t notice that Wooyoung was standing behind him and suddenly patted his back. He himself was fighting the urge not to break down.

Hongjoong glanced at them across the room and sighed.

Mingi put down his phone and the typing of the keyboard was heard along with some frustrated groans. Jongho spoke up, “San told us that the jewelleries are also missing from her lockers.”

“What? Even her expensive items from her room were also missing.” Hongjoong was surprised that you were missing for so many hours and then all those money and other expensive items were missing too.

Yeosang shut his laptop with a groan and glared at the device. San beside him asked what happened but the news they got was not what they were expecting.

“She has been transferring money for last 6 months and for the last one month, she has spent money on some expensive trips and buying properties. The two accounts where the moneys are being transferred are highly protected with firewalls. I can’t access to it. It only seems like it’s been handled and protected by hackers from other mafia groups.”

Mingi furrowed his brows, “mafia groups? Why will she be transferring money to other mafias?”

Hongjoong pocked his cheek with the tongue, “she doesn’t usually spend such amount of money at once. And according to her schedule, she was pretty much busy with her work-loads.”

“yeah, Amy was always the one asking us if we needed any kind of help and giving us updates on her because she was busy with some events outdoor. Can you give me her schedule for once?”

Yeosang nodded and searched for the schedules Amy sent him and delivered it to Yunho who was quick to open it and read the routines. His creased eyebrows got noticed by Hongjoong, “what happened, Yunho?”

The man shook his head before turning the laptop from Yeosang towards him from across the table and quickly typed something. Everyone was watching his actions and Jongho was peeking at the screen from beside him, “why are you searching these companies?”

Hongjoong raised his hand to let him do his work. After a couple of minutes, Yunho clenched his jaw and shut the screen before turning towards the leader, “I was right.”

“what?”

“these companies: first FACT CHECK enterprise didn’t have any events because they were overseas with us, next ORANGE FATE didn’t held any events for last few weeks and SEVENTEEN has no updates. This only means she didn’t have anything according to her schedules and some same schedules are repeated again and again. Without getting anything solved, everything is appearing to be more puzzled.”

Jongho patted Yunho’s back and turned towards the leader, “we should call Amy and ask her.” The leader nodded and Mingi quickly dialled her number to ask her come to their room. Seonghwa and Wooyoung also returned to their places and waited for her.

As soon as Amy got the call, she skipped towards the room and entered the door with a worried expression. The boys looked at her and noticed her worriedness but Hongjoong asked her not to panic and let her sit on the chair beside Yeosang where you were supposed to sit in other times.

She sat on your chair.

She smirked to herself. Second step achieved, including her in the meetings. First step was already going pretty well when they were calling from overseas to know the daily updates of their place from her---apparently you were busy.

Sitting down slowly, she clasped her hands and Yunho noticed her heavy breaths. They all turned towards the leader when he spoke up, “where were you all these days?”

She bit her lips and tugged her hair behind her ear. She nervously glanced at everyone when Jongho offered her a glass of water. She thanked him and quickly gulped it down, taking few breaths she proceeded, “I-I was working here in the office and then keeping you all updated.”

“where was she? You were not with her?”

“y-yeah I was with her but only when she was inside the building. She was always busy outside.”

“where did she go?”

“the events. I don’t know anything in details because everyday she was late to office, complaining that how tired she is and then going out frustrated. Trust me, I thought you all should know about it because why she will tell me anything.”

“do you know why she needed money? Was she in trouble?”

She paused before glancing at them and then looked down, “n-no. I don’t know. If this was known by me. I would have told you all about it.” She started sobbing and looked up, “I am worried for her. I hope you all find her soon and I will get my friend back.”

Yeosang patted her back and everyone felt bad seeing her cry because she was really close with you and you enjoyed her company so much that they could feel her loneliness and concern when you were missing. She excused herself and Jongho went with her because they didn’t want others to know about the situation yet and she needed someone by her side because of her being oversensitive.

.

.

.

The next two weeks they had done everything possible to reach your location but you were nowhere as if your presence was vanished from the universe. There were no sign of kidnapping because there was no call from any mafia groups, no threats from any rivals and everything was normal and in place without you. It seemed like you never existed but yeah, the employees started asking about your absence and that led to them getting hold of the reality. The news was quick to spread everywhere, to every corner of the city.

Amy became closer to them and she was handling all your works. Them consulting few things with her, of course it was a great achievement for her. At some point, some members were losing hope to find you and becoming reckless. The leader was having a hard time in controlling them but he knew the emotions and conditions of his family because he was on the same boat.

With the passing of days, the chances of getting you back was disappearing and one more thing they were noticing, the strange behaviour of Amy. She was often seen zoning out and flinching to sudden people. They realised she was very traumatized with your disappearance. But a sudden parcel flipped everything upside-down.

Amy was sitting down with the parcel in front of her on the table and them scattered all around the room. Some were in disbelief and some were furious. She was crying and with shaky hands holding and looking at the things which they found out from the parcel.

The leader was hovering on her from the side and glaring, “Amy, What are you hiding from us? Tell me now before I lose my patience.”

She kept quiet and staring at the pictures. You were laughing with a boy, receiving gifts from him, partying at a club with him and kissing and also, you were on a trip for a week with him. It was definitely you, there was no editing and the details were pointing out that you were really not present at home or at office on those days and it only made it clear that there was lot going on behind their back.

“Amy! Speak up!”

She flinched and wiped the tears.

“she was meeting this boy everyday.”

The boy was familiar to them, Lee Heesung from Orange Fate Limited. They often had meetings and events with them. They were not on a term of rivals but were on an agreement of allies because of their head departments.

Seonghwa said darkly, “Continue.” San clenched his fist with every words coming from her mouth.

“she told me not to say you all anything that she was……she was cheating behind you all. She was with you because you all are too naïve that you trust her so much. She threatened me that she would kill me if I go against her. I couldn’t do anything because you all would have never trusted me but I tried to tell you so many times. I am only explaining everything today because its been a month that she has gone missing. But actually, she was planning to run away for a while.” She started weeping and Mingi comforted her. He was hesitant to be so close to her but why he should feel guilty when you didn’t think twice before doing such a thing to them.

They were sick worried for you only to get a parcel, maybe from their ally base that you were with their leader all these times. Yunho scoffed hearing the explanation and Jongho glanced at him before sighing and switched on his lock screen where he was hugging you from behind and both smiling at Yeosang who was behind the camera clicking the picture. A tear drop fell on the screen, just above your face.

He hated himself for missing you.

Mingi took her outside because she was scared and blabbering nonsense and was convincing them that she would bring you back and make you apologize. She explained everything how you were not busy due to workload but because you were going out with your boyfriend. The rage was building inside them with the thought that what more you had done with him other than kissing behind their back. All these past months when you were intimated with them, actually you were just using them as a stress reliever and maybe you were complaining about them to Heesung when you were making love with him.

Yeosang curled his fingers, nails scratching the leather of the chair’s armrest.

Woooyung asked his leader, “Are we going to bring her back? We going to-“

“We are going nowhere. She is not our concern anymore. If she chose to go away, to find love in someone else then let it be.” San growled.

Wooyoung shook his head and with pleading eyes he stared at the leader. He wanted to hear his thoughts and he was sure he won’t agree with San but he was wrong.

“No more discussion on y/n. she was not missing but enjoying her life.” He scoffed, “I wanted to believe that these all are wrong but no. it had to be true. Why had it to be true? She betrayed us. She played with out trust. There is nothing to keep up with this conversation.”

He leaned back into his chair and ordered everyone to leave. They were hesitant to leave because each one of them were sure that if they went off to their individual ways, they would end up doing something worse. But why should they harm themselves? It was you who betrayed them and then ended up breaking their hearts.

If someone had to regret, IT’s You.

Seonghwa halted at the door and looked back towards the leader who was glaring at your picture on the wall, “are you sure we are not going to get her?”

“Never. We are not going to trust her again. Let’s pretend we never met her. And Leave.”

.

.

.

Days went on and turned into months and they all were emotionless as if they only knew their missions and going back home, commanding others and then going back to their own life. No extra conversation with anyone. They even became distant among themselves and Amy was enjoying this a lot because afterall she was the who was spending most of the times with them, delivering the messages and information to them and their individual opinions to each other via her.

Jongho knocked at the leader’s bedroom door. It was noon and none of them went to office building, only Seonghwa went for an hour to check the updates and returned early. Everybody was at home but in their individual room, Jongho glanced at the door between Yunho and Wooyoung’s room. It was locked. In other times, he would often find music blasting from your room and then finding you dancing like a maniac.

“what do you need?”

“the medical kit is empty and I need to treat Yeosang’s wound from yesterday.”

“the ones in the cabinets in the upper rack?”

“nothing.”

Hongjoong sighed and pull off a jacket before exiting his room and signalled him to follow.

“where are we going?”

He stopped and glared, “of course to the base hospital. I definitely know other hospitals will freak out seeing us.” Jongho nodded to his statement and followed him.

Arriving to the hospital, they straight way went to the cabin where its pretty usual for them to appear often.

"Hongjoong?" The said man stopped in his track on hearing someone called him.

It was their rival gang NCT’s member standing in front of him. They never had anything against each other but they were allies with someone who was apparently their enemy.

"Mark. What are you doing here?" Jongho asked in a monotone voice to which the boy before him licked his lips.

"Dude don't think I'm here for any sort of mission. I work here as a part time worker like my leader forced us to keep a normal citizen profile as well, might help us in some ways."

"Why are you saying all these to us? I'm sure your leader won't be happy to see you being friendly with us." Hongjoong smirked.

Mark nodded and glanced at his surroundings expression turning towards them, "I didn't know y/n was in relationship with you all."

"What are you trying to say?"Jongho inquired him and he sighed.

"Hongjoong I heard that you guys were searching y/n but I didn't know how to reach to you guys because my leader strictly told me not to contact any one of you."

"What are you upto?"

"Do you know what happened to her?"

Hongjoong scoffed and glared at him, "don't interfere in our matters. It's all over between us and her so I would like you to get the fuck out of my way."

"So you trusted some bitch?" now it's Mark who was glaring.

"What do you mean?"

Mark held his wrist and dragged him towards a room. "what are you doing?"

"Please come with me. It's for your own sake."

Both of them hesitantly followed him and when he opened the door, they were greeted by the worst view. Their breathing stopped for a moment, they froze with the time. It felt like they were dreaming and oblivious to himself, Jongho stepped forward towards the bed.

IT’s You.

You were sleeping peacefully on the bed.

"What happened to her?" Hongjoong was holding back his tears and clenched his fist. Tears welped in his eyes. He was shocked to see you lying in front of him on a hospital bed with a white sheet covering your body and you were connected to the machines beside you. His eyes followed the bandages wrapped in different places which were visible to his eyes. He didn’t want to think anymore about it. He was clenching his fist that all these months he blamed you and thought that you betrayed them was just to find you in the hospital.

Did Heesung hurt you?

“She is comatose for last few months.” Mark stated, eyes fixed on you.

Hongjoong was glaring at you. Atleast at this moment he thought had it better if you were somewhere enjoying your life rather than being in coma.

Jongho who was kneeling beside your bed caressed your hand, “Why? Why is she in this condition?”

“That day when I was returning from the mission, she stumbled in front of my car. Dude she is not here because of that, I was not driving. Me and my friend were just chatting by the side of the road when she came to us running frantically. She was so scared and covered in blood.” Mark licked his lips and shook his head when he remembered the day.

“who are you? Why did you help her?” the leader asked the question but didn’t glance to his direction.

“I know it’s weird but we are childhood friends. After I joined the mafia gang and for the sake of my leader, I had to keep distance with her so that she might not get in trouble with this dark life but somehow she ended up with you all.” He sadly chuckled.

He continued, “I searched about her when I brought her to the hospital. I found out that she was related to you all and the first thought that came to my mind was that you did this to her. But then when I found that you all are searching for her, I was confused for a while but then gradually came to know the truth. Somebody has tortured her and her body was lacking nutrients and due to the deficiency of iron, she got a stroke.”

“torture? Who did this?” the leader was losing his patient with each word coming out his mouth.

“when I brought her here, she was conscious for few days. Yeah, I strictly told others that they should not let anyone to know about her and Johnny is her doctor. She was repeating some things like ‘Amy please don’t do this’  ‘I want to go home’  ‘help me’  ‘I will go away but please don’t hurt me’. according to the reports she is in vegetative state right now, she got a stroke when one day she was thrashing around things.”

A ring interrupted their conversation. Hongjoong was lost with your view and the words from Mark were sinking inside him. He was still processing that you were in front of him and on top of that, you were in a miserable state.

Somebody tortured you? Amy?

Mark broke his trance and urged him to pick up the call.

“where are you? We need to treat the wound and there is nothing in here.”

“Seonghwa, come to the base hospital and bring others too.”

“What’s going on?”

“Just do what I said. You will know when you reach here.”

“I think hearing some familiar voices or maybe something that can trigger the stimuli can bring her back to senses so I hope for the best. She is attentive to some responses and you all are my last hope.”

Mark patted his back and excused himself. He ordered some guards outside the door not to allow anyone inside the room except few members whom he will be sending soon.

Hongjoong stepped forward and with slow steps, he sat beside your bed. His shaky hands caressed your head, tears fell on you when he planted a kiss on your forehead. Jongho was still holding your hand on the other side and was watching your slow breathings.

“y/n……please wake up.” Hongjoong’s voice cracked and he didn’t know what to say anymore. He was angry, upset, hurt and moreover, he was dying inside. He couldn’t afford to see you in that condition.

They waited for a while. They were whispering so many things and tears flowing down their eyes continuously. They were lost after seeing your condition. The leader was confused that why someone had to treat you in this way when you did nothing in the first place. He was feeling to rip off the machines from you so that he could hug you and shield you from all the negativities that might be lingering around you.

The door slammed open and several footsteps could be heard entering the room when suddenly all the sounds paused.

“y/n?” Wooyoung was quick to run towards your sleeping figure, he pushed aside his leader and hugged your body, resting himself on top of you. He was excited but also confused after seeing you in that condition.

 You were laying pale and fragile upon a sterile hospital bed. Concern etched deep lines of worry upon their faces as they gathered around you, their hearts heavy with fear and uncertainty.

Seonghwa glanced at you and then towards Hongjoong who was not even taking off his eyes from you. “what is this Hongjoong? Why is she here?”

He didn’t reply and when he turned towards Jongho, he stood up to give space to Mingi so that he could stand beside your bed. The youngest was not willing to leave your hand but still others needed to see you as well so he stepped towards Seonghwa, “she is in coma for last few months. Somebody had kept her locked up and tortured her.”

“what?” San glared at him. “what are you saying, Jongho? Who?”

“I don’t know-“

“Amy.” Hongjoong stated the name blankly and stared at Seonghwa. “Are you sure?”

“she was scared of her before she went into coma so that only proves she has something to do with her.”

Wooyoung’s grip tightened around you. Yeosang was beside him who was trying to comfort him but also wishing for you to wake up. He couldn’t believe his eyes that you were in front of him. He could feel your skin against his fingertips. Your faint breathing could be heard and it was the only hope, the only belief that you were with him, with them.

Yeosang caressed your hand and pressed a soft kiss, “y/n, look we are here. Wake up. We all are here to protect you. No one can hurt you. Please look at me, y/n .” he started sobbing and buried his face into the hold where your fingers were getting wet with his tears.

Mingi caressed your head, “y/n… we are here to take you home, doll. Please open your eyes. Try to hear my voice I am here.”

Wooyoung traced his fingers over the bandages and the healing cuts on your face. The beautiful face, the soft skin which always felt amazing against his and he never missed a place to kiss every inch of it. Now its all covered with cuts and bandages. “baby please wake up. Please look at me, talk to me.”

Three of them were crying surrounding you and the rest of them closely behind them were hoping to see your eyes fluttering open and to tell them what you went through. They were cursing themselves for once believing that you left and betrayed them.

They were hating themselves for believing that.

Yeosang pulled back Wooyoung and both of them sat on the couch to the side, the younger one was sobbing in his hold. Hongjoong nodded towards Seonghwa and the older one sat on the stool beside your head and held your hand, the leader stood behind him.

“y/n…can you hear me? Love we are all here for you. Look we found you.” Seonghwa gulped the lump, smiled sadly and continued, “We will get through this together. You need to wake up for me.” Hongjoong placed a hand on his shoulder to encourage him to keep going.

San moved forward, he was observing things from a distance and was silently praying all the Almighty to wake you up, to do a miracle so that he could see your eyes and smile again. Mingi stepped back to give him space and he kneeled beside you and took your hand in his trembling ones, the needles from the iv-drip and other machines piercing your skin and he was holding back the urge to rip that off because it might be hurting you. “Y/n……”

“I can't bear to see you like this. Please, wake up...please…I love you so much" he mumbled and planted a kiss on the knuckles.

“you need to see yourself. You are strong enough to come all these ways alone. You can fight more. You are no more alone, we are here for you.” Seonghwa pronounced every word distinctly so that you could hear them, understand him and atleast process slowly that you were not alone but surrounded by your loved ones. Your family.

Jongho slowly said to them, “Mark told us if we trigger a memory then she might wake up. She is responsive to some stimuli earlier. I don’t know what to do but please do something and wake her up. If not then she will be under more risk.”

“No! she won’t.” Wooyoung shouted and again stood beside you, “y/n, don’t give up on us like this. You cant leave us. I wont be able to live if I lose you. Wake up please.”

Yeosang stood beside him, voice cracking “ you are our heart y/n. just tell me what you need, I will do anything for you but don’t leave me please.”

Hongjoong gulped, “Y/n…remember the day we met, those happy moments which we cherish. I still think about them everyday even after the day you were missing. Please we have so much to do in our life. We love you.”

Mingi’s voice wavered, “We'll be here for you every step of the way, I'll fight this battle with you, y/n. Together, as one...nine makes one family.”

Your index finger moved a little in San’s hold. He was surprised, his breath hitched. He looked towards everyone but others gave him a confused look. he was smiling and holding your hand tightly and glancing between you and them.

“guys she can hear us. Her finger is moving.” His gaze landed on the last one who haven’t said anything after they had arrived. He was fuming but crying and San knew that he could do anything if he was quiet. “Yunho…”

The sterile white walls of the hospital room surrounded him, the heavy air which he breathing was filled with different emotions. But the only emotion that was tugging in every corner was the faint ray of hope.

Hope for you to wake up.

Hearing his name, slow and heavy steps took him to your side. Seonghwa who was still whispering some old happy memories paused and moved back a bit. Yunho stared at your face. The memory of you smiling at him and laughing at his jokes. You acting like a baby and always promising that he would protect you like your big saviour. But he didn’t. he broke his promise. He left you alone to fight and then you were fighting with your death.

He will kill every person who did this with you.

“Y/n, You're my reason to keep going. I…we won't let you go. Stay with me. I love you, Pearl.”

The familiar voices echoing inside your head.

Their voices.

Your family.

Nine makes one family.

You clutched San’s hand but quickly loosened the grip. You repeated the action. Their eyes not leaving a second of your form. Your dry lips parted slightly to seep through some air. The oxygen mask felt like suffocating the air.

Slowly, like tendrils of fog dissipating under the morning sun, consciousness began to seep back into your mind.

Your eyelids fluttered, heavy with the weight of slumber, as you struggled to orient yourself to the surroundings. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor echoed in their ears, a steady cadence that anchored all to the present moment.

With a groan, you attempted to shift your body, the sensation of stiffness and lethargy weighing you down like an anchor. Your limbs felt foreign, disconnected from the mind, as if you were a marionette being manipulated by invisible strings. Few deep cuts and wounds stinged, you whimpered at the pain.

As your vision cleared, you became aware of the figures standing by your bedside, silhouettes bathed in the soft glow of the overhead lights. their faces had masks of concern as they observed your awakening. You couldn’t place the names with the faces.

Who are they? Do you know them? Why are you here? Wait…where are you?

You twisted your neck to every direction, an air of suffocation engulfing you and the memory of being locked up, bloods, wounds, cut and crying flashed in front of your eyes.

“baby…” Seonghwa’s voice made you look at him. Your eyes were filled with horror. They will hurt you again. An adrenaline hit you which made you feel to run away and save yourself. You were trapped and you needed to get out. You got rid of the oxygen mask.

“no…no…please don’t kill me…I..” you pushed yourself up, groaning because you felt your lethargic body was heavy with tons of weight, you wanted to move but still couldn’t. you started crying and retreated your hand back when you felt someone was holding it. San left your hand when he saw fear in your eyes. You were confused, scared and tired but still attempted to make a run.

Wooyoung’s voice choked with emotion, “baby you are awake…”  you shook your head and  twisted your body but Yunho was quick to make you still and you groaned when the wound in your waist sent a wave of pain throughout your body.

“please…leave me…I want to go home please…” you were crying and wiggling weakly under his hold.

Yunho was standind straight and engulfing your upper body tightly in his hold to let you cry and shout but he couldn’t let you go away when surprisingly he got you back from the edge of death, “shh shhh…Y/n, don’t cry please. I am here. No one is going to hurt you.”

Seonghwa patted your head, “we are going to take you home.”

“no…no…they  they are waiting for me. Joong…I want to go to him…Hwa…Woo…please please.”

“baby, I am Woo. I’m right here.” You glanced at him. a memory of you fooling around and laughing with him flashed in front of him.

You shook your head and Yunho pushed your head against his chest and placed a kiss on top, “it’s me, Yunho. Love calm down.”

When you didn’t stop shaking, he held your face and made you look into his eyes, he was holding back his tears and still smiled at you, “I am here. Right in front of you. You are safe with me. Your Yuyu is with you.”

You stared at him and your actions slowed down. He shifted and sat on the edge and pulled you closer. “Yunho…” hearing his name from your mouth, he pulled you closer and caressed your sides, lulling you to calm down.

“yes, it’s me. we all are here.”

San placed himself on the other side edge of the bed to caress your back. Even though, they were sad seeing you vulnerable but somehow a relief settled inside them that you were awake. You were with them.

“Calm down for me. will you?”

Hearing his soothing voice, you clutched his shirt. Your tears were soaking it but he didn’t care about that, he just wanted you to not feel scared of them.

They knew it was a burden for you to take in your surrounding after waking up from coma after months. You took deep breaths and he could feel your trembling body calming down.

“Y/n. How are you feeling?” Hongjoong’s concerned voice echoed in the air, reaching your ears. Several nights you spent calling out his name, hoping for him to save you but you were alone. Your mind slowly and slowly settling down and you got a grip of your current situation.

You looked down to see yourself wrapped in a hospital gown.

You were in hospital.

“paining. It’s paining everywhere.” You mumbled and stared at Hongjoong. He stepped forward and softly cupped your face, giving you a warm smile.

“it will go away. You will be fine soon.” He kissed your forehead. Seonghwa stood beside him with a bright smile, his presence itself was giving you a blanket of comfort adding to the warmth from Yunho was hugging you.

Hwa nodded and removed the strand of hairs from your face and tugged them neatly behind your ears, “my pretty baby. Do you need something?”

You moved your head up and down slowly, he urged you to speak, “I..I want water.” He didn’t waste a second, quickly turning on his heel, walked towards the table to get a glass of water. You felt your throat was burning dry and you coughed.

San patted your back, “its okay. Take it slow. You are fine.”

Hongjoong wiped your eyes, “don’t cry, baby. We are here for you. Always.”

Wooyoung sat beside your legs and ran his hands up and down above the blanket. Even though he couldn’t feel your skin against his but he knew you were fine and with him.

You stared at him when Seonghwa gave you the glass, you gulped the water hastily. You coughed when you choked. Yunho and Seonghwa softly scolded you not to rush. Your gaze returned towards Wooyoung, you extended your hand and he intertwined his fingers with yours. Tears fell from your eyes. “you are really here...”

“Yes I am. For you.”

Seonghwa and Hongjoong moved aside to let Mingi and Yeosang in front of your view. They were trying their best to appear happy but they knew with just a blink, you would see them all breaking down. Mingi kissed your nose and gave you a tight hug, “do you want to eat?”

“I don’t know. I want to…go home.” You turned towards Yunho, “please take me home. I don’t want to stay here.” He nodded and wiped your eyes, “shh…we will go okay. We are waiting for the doctor to allow the discharge for you.”

Yeosang cupped your face to bring your attention on him, “we are going to watch movies and we will play tag game. How about that?”

You smiled and their heart melted seeing the small curled up lips, “yes. I would love that but I’m feeling so weak.”

Wooyoung chimed in, “You have to eat a lot to become strong and then we will watch movies and discuss your favorite things. You have to show us your favorite stories.”

Hongjoong chuckled, “You cant make her do that even now. She will still run after you because she always do her best to hide the things she read. But I’m curious too.”

Mingi raised his brows and nodded, “those are in English so even if I get a hold of it. I don’t know how to read them.”

Jongho laughed lightly, “deliver them to me. I will let you know about it.”

Seonghwa shook his head and laughed. The atmosphere was becoming lighter than before and they were glad that you were smiling with them. Jongho kissed your nose, “you need to walk more or you will feel more weak. But you should rest until the wounds are getting better.”

You nodded.

You were always an independent and hardworking woman and that’s how they got attracted to you. Every on the point decisions and single handedly and actively managing lots of works was never a small deal for anyone but they saw you doing it and they were impressed. When you got the offer to join the company, you didn’t know it belonged to a mafia base but what to do, when they told you about it, you were already in love with them. They were always honest with you and respected and even treated you like a queen. Their queen.

 But today, seeing you so weak and vulnerable like a baby was breaking their heart into million pieces. You were hurt, you were scared and traumatized.

A groan escaped your lips when you shifted in your place and Yeosang made you still and Yunho helping you to sit properly, leaning your back to his chest. You turned towards San who was quite all these moments. He was still sitting on the bed close to you and rubbing his hands up and down your body. He wanted to feel you, to make himself belief that he was not dreaming but it’s the reality.

Yeosang with concerned eyes looked towards you and asked, “Are you okay? Where is it hurting?”

San urged you to speak, “tell us baby. Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere.”

Yeosang, the medic of the group knew he had to take care of you more after returning back home. Yunho massaged your side and it did wonder to relieve some tensions.

Your gaze fell on San’s hand, it was bandaged. Your eyes went wide and you looked towards others to scan them. Why are they hurt? You couldn’t find anything visible on Wooyoung, not even on Jongho but when you watched Yeosang fishing his hand inside the jacket’s pocket. You quickly grabbed it and caressed the bandaged palm. You didn’t notice it earlier.

“Why are you hurt? What happened?”

He shook his head, “nothing major.”

Your other hand grabbed San’s wounded one, “does it hurt?”

“no baby. Calm down. Getting hurt during missions is pretty normal.”

“don’t normalize these things. I don’t want you all to get hurt.” San hugged your side. “I’m sorry…”

“why?” his whisper fanned your ears, tickling you lightly.

Hongjoong frowned, “why are you sorry? You did nothing wrong, y/n.”

“but I am here…”

Wooyoung placed a finger on your lips, “don’t speak. That’s not your fault. You are safe and talking with us. That’s what we want right now.”

Seonghwa patted your head before announcing, “I am going to talk with her doctor…what was the name again?”

Jongho stated, “Johnny.”

“ah yes him. so Mingi and Jongho come along with me, we need to take some medical equipment as well.”

The two nodded and followed behind him before them sending smiles towards you. Your eyes followed them until they closed the door behind them.

“San…”

“hmm… tell me.”

“I don’t want to go to that office building. And you did got some pictures, right?”

Before he could reply Hongjoong interrupted, “no we are not going there anytime soon.” You nodded.

San furrowed his brows, “what pictures?”

“me and Heesung…”

Yunho pulled you closer if its even possible, “why? Why are you asking?”

“do you all trust that? I mean the pictures are real but…”

“but?” Hongjoong just needed some truth and the plannings he already made inside his head would be in action. “tell me y/n.”

“I was drugged and didn’t know what he did. Amy…she used me to get to get you all. She forced me to transfer money, to meet him, and so on. But trust me I didn’t want to do anything. I wanted you all. I wanted to go home. I still want to go far away with you all.”

“calm down, Y/n. we are not speaking about those things right now.” Yeosang shushed you and  Hongjoong clenched his jaw.

He is going to kill her. He is going to torture her till the day she dies of blood loss. He wants to rip her heart out. Does she even have one? He mentally scoffed. He caught Yunho and San staring at him. they both smirked when they saw the leader was fuming.

The leader showed his dirty smirk towards them. They knew the hell was going to break loose for someone.

Seonghwa called Yeosang and asked him to tell others to take you to the car because they got the permission to take you home as Yeosang could manage the rest. He removed the needles and you winced but he was quick to tape the wounds. Wooyoung held your side when you tried to stand up. You felt your head spinning and nauseous hit you. Hongjoong quickly brought a mug in front of your face to let you vomit and Yunho held your hairs in a ponytail and patting your back, encouraging you to take it easy and you will be okay. Yeosang wiped your mouth with wet tissues and San swept you off the ground.

“you are not walking anymore. You need to rest and your limbs are still too weak to make you stand strong even for a second.”

You didn’t argue because you yourself were aware of your condition. As soon as you all left the room, people moved aside seeing the mafia group carrying a girl in their arms. Some had sympathetic look and some with curiosity whispering to each other. You felt awkward under the gazes and you buried your face in his chest. His laugh vibrated in your face and you could hear others chuckled.

Wooyoung ruffled your hairs, “silly.”

Reaching the parking lot, the others were already there. The fresh air hit your face, feeling lively and Seonghwa came in front, “are you okay?”

“I want to stay outside. Please.” You were whining like a baby in san’s arms.

One by one they all entered the car and you were laying with your head resting on Seonghwa’s lap and legs placed over San’s thigh. You pout when they didn’t acknowledge your request. Jongho stared at you, “what happened?”

“I said I wanted to stay outside.”

“didn’t you want to go home?”

You sighed and closed your eyes. Yes, you wanted to return home.

Hongjoong laughed from the passenger seat and Yunho spoke up, “we are going to the beach in front of our house. We will have our lunch there and spend the evening there as well.”

Your eyes fluttered open, “really?”

“yes.” Mingi assured you and joked to make you laugh.

San stroked your legs, “you are our home, y/n. I love you.”

Even if you wanted to go to the house, your home.  It’s fine. Wherever they are, its your home.

They are your home.

“you guys are my home too. My world.”

[thanks for loving the ot8 fics anon <3. I hope you liked this one.]

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @nvdhrzn [open!]

[kaijuno]

A military veteran who went on to serve as a firefighter revealed in his obituary that he was gay, a secret he said he held his entire life.

Col. Edward Thomas Ryan died at age 85 on June 1, the first day of Pride Month, his niece Linda Sargent told "Good Morning America"

"I must tell you one more thing. I was Gay all my life: thru grade school, thru High School, thru College, thru Life," the obituary reads, “I was in a loving and caring relationship with Paul Cavagnaro of North Greenbush. He was the love of my life. We had 25 great years together. Paul died in 1994 from a medical Procedure gone wrong. I'll be buried next to Paul.”

Ryan's message continued, "I'm sorry for not having the courage to come out as Gay. I was afraid of being ostracized: by Family, Friends, and Co-Workers. Seeing how people like me were treated, I just could not do it. Now that my secret is known, I'll forever Rest in Peace."

[witchy-worm]

I had the pleasure of claiming @destielpiebitch's incredible fic Paging Doctor Novak in this years DCBB! I've always loved a medical story of any variety, and I have a soft spot for nurse!Dean, so I was immediately drawn to this fic when I saw the claims gallery. It was such a delight to work with this author, and I feel truly honoured that I got to make the art for this incredible fic!

Go check it out here: LINK TO FIC

This fic also inspired me to make chapter headers for the first time! I made the stethoscope and clipboard in illustrator and added the watercolour-y background colours in photoshop.

Banner and fic info behind the cut!

Title: Paging Doctor Novak

Author: Salamitsunami1

Artist: WitchyWorm

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean/Cas, past Dean/Lisa, past Dean/Rhonda

Length: 51,314

Warnings: Graphic and accurate depictions of medicine, medical emergencies, and medical procedures. Past unfaithful Dean. Minor character death

Tags: Rom-com, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Happy Ending, Hospital AU, Sexual Tension, Doctor Sexy M.D., Getting Together

Posting Date: October 31, 2024

Summary: Dean Winchester is many things — a nurse, an in-charge on the medical-surgical floor, and a big fan of the ladies. What he’s not is a commitment kind of guy, and he’s definitely not a night duty kind of guy. Things change when a hook-up-gone-wrong gets him lumped on night duty for an entire month, and to make matters worse, he’s been lumped on night duty with a brand new intern. As with all interns, Doctor Castiel Novak is cocky at best and dangerous at worst, but for some reason, and maybe it’s just the way his ass looks in those teal scrubs, Dean’s got a soft spot for the guy. Or a really hard one. Either way, it’s not long before Dean’s new roster is the least of his concerns; he wants that dorky doctor guy, and fuck, he wants him for real.

[slushycoookie]

Kinktober Day 23 ~ Pegging

Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader

Summary: After another thing goes wrong in Spider Society, you help him not worry about it anymore.

A/N: I need to write about messing with that Miguel booty more often. Enjoy!

Prev *✧･ﾟ: Next Kinktober '24 Masterlist

“He’s at it again.”

Jess says to you when you two stand in front of his lab. You can already hear stuff being thrown around, the angry growls of your husband resonating across the room.

“Uh, what happened this time?”

“We didn’t meet our quota of anomalies this quarter. I told Miguel it's stupid that we're tracking how many anomalies we grab, but he wants to make sure we're efficient.”

Another crash is heard, paired with an exhausted growl.

“Are we…not efficient?”

“We were off by one.” You can see how that would upset Miguel. He’s always particular, wanting to make sure things go the way he expects them to. “Time for you to go play ‘wife’!”

Jess waves you away when you disappear into the darkness of his lab. The throwing noises stops to your relief. All you saw is your husband fuming, arms folded with prominent frown lines across his forehead. He’s still cute when he’s angry.

“So…we’re only one off.”

Miguel throws his hands up, “I thought we were on track this quarter! Somebody screwed up and missed one or maybe didn't file a report or-”

The platform moves from a button press on your watch. You step up to take his hand, squeezing it.

“It's okay. We have another quarter.”

“Even if we make next quarter's goal, we'll still be off.”

Miguel’s arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest. His chin resting on the top of your head. At least he wasn't throwing things now.

“You know what I can do to help?” He hums, waiting for you to continue. “You haven't gotten that special thing in a while…”

“What special thing-oh.”

You know Miguel is getting flushed at your unexpected offer. You aren't sure why he gets embarrassed since he likes it so much.

“Can we do that tonight?”

“Yes, we can.” While parting you place your thumb and index finger on his cheeks, squeezing it a bit before giving his lips a quick peck.

Later that night, you pull out your tools, lying them on the bed as if you are about to do a medical procedure. Miguel’s naked self lying on the sheets, crimson eyes watching your every move. His cock standing hard and proud for you.

You hold up the red dildo shining bright in the bedroom light. You effortlessly put the strap on, as if you've done this hundreds of times. Before, you felt silly with it dangling in front of you. Now, you can definitely see the appeal.

“What does my baby prefer?” You climb on the bed, making the bed dip. “Missionary or doggy?”

“Missionary…”

Your eyes flicker with intrigue. Miguel hardly asks for missionary. That one anomaly off must've really affected him.

“I get to see your handsome face while I fuck you.” You stroke his cheek and he leans into it, desperation filling his eyes.

To make sure he's ready, you pour some lube on your finger.

Miguel gasps when you insert a digit in his hole, feeling how tight it is around you.

“Relax for me.” You lean forward, the fake cock brushing against his. Miguel’s tense muscles start to relax from your touch. How you're pumping in and out of him, not having much resistance.

“Good. Good job.”

Cum leaks from his tip and you reward him by sucking it off. Licking your lips while humming at the taste. Miguel whimpers while you keep fingering him, eyes lowered. You think he's ready enough so you add a second finger. He shifts at the sensation.

“How does that feel, Miggy?”

Miguel struggles to say anything coherent, “G-Good. Really good…”

It's been a while since you've fucked him. By the way his cock twitched, you know once you slide into him, he's practically gone. But this is to make your man feel better.

“I think you're ready…”

You pull out your fingers then get in between his legs. Miguel’s relieved expression made your core burn up. How submissive he is in this moment, you wanted to take a picture. You line yourself up with him. Your eyes on your husband’s face when you push inside him.

The way his eyes flutter, mouth agape, made your cunt squeeze. His groan much deserved while he grips the pillows. You ignore the tears, knowing you have a bunch of pillows on standby.

“O-Oh, oh s-shock…”

More cum trails down his shaft as he's taking your fake cock in perfectly. His eyes closed tight, chest heaving to not orgasm right now.

“You should look at me…” You put your hips back, causing a long, drawn out moan from him. “Don’t you wanna see how good I'm fucking you?”

Miguel’s eyes open, enough to see you slowly thrust into him. The red dildo disappearing inside him with ease. Your breasts moving in tandem with your movements.

“It's…it's too much.” Miguel moves, but he doesn't go anywhere. You hit a spot along his prostate that causes him to choke. You're starting to see stuffing in your line of vision.

“You know what the safe word is.”

You give a sharp thrust and his eyes roll back. Miguel’s abdomen clenching, sweat clinging on to his skin. He's so pretty when he's not in control. You lean down to kiss him. At the same time, your thrusts pick up speed, your thighs hitting the back of his own. His groans fill your mouth. Your tongue rubbing against his in an opposite pace of your thrusts.

Your stomach starts getting sticky from his leaking tip. You're continuing to pound into his walls, bumping against that nice little spot. Over and over and over again. Miguel starts gasping in your mouth, cotton all around, sticking to his skin and yours.

“I'm…I'm!”

A silent cry to escapes your husband. White, sticky cum covering his abs and your stomach. You don't stop your thrusts, wondering what it feels like having him squeeze around the toy. Miguel cums so much it trails down and stain the sheets.

For a moment, Miguel doesn't move. Your heartbeat picking up in worry. His eyes flicker and you sigh of relief. You pull out, him giving one last whimper.

After removing the strap, you get a piece of cotton away from his forehead, cupping his face.

“You okay?” You see him barely nod, mustering up the strength for a small smile. You give him a kiss before starting the routine of getting rid of your torn pillows.

Tags:

@fandomfics @freythecrazyfae @maddyperezzzsstuff

@mynamesstevenwithav @eyes-ofhell @maxad99

@howlingco @cherrypieyourface @snails-doodles22

@siren-141 @nega-omega @sweetimpurity

@hehekittyhawk @spencerswh0r3 @saintdiior

@maliaofthevalley @wolverigrl @pigeonmama

@shybluebirdninja @tomie-it-girl @antishadow2021

@honey-and-olives @hyjionie @smokeywhalee

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Paging Doctor Novak

Author: Salamitsunami1

Artist: WitchyWorm

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean/Cas, past Dean/Lisa, past Dean/Rhonda

Length: 40000

Warnings: Graphic and accurate depictions of medicine, medical emergencies, and medical procedures. Past unfaithful Dean. Minor character death

Tags: Rom-com, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Happy Ending, Hospital AU, Sexual Tension, Doctor Sexy M.D., Getting Together

Posting Date: October 31, 2024

Summary: Dean Winchester is many things — a nurse, an in-charge on the medical-surgical floor, and a big fan of the ladies. What he’s not is a commitment kind of guy, and he’s definitely not a night duty kind of guy. Things change when a hook-up-gone-wrong gets him lumped on night duty for an entire month, and to make matters worse, he’s been lumped on night duty with a brand new intern. As with all interns, Doctor Castiel Novak is cocky at best and dangerous at worst, but for some reason, and maybe it’s just the way his ass looks in those teal scrubs, Dean’s got a soft spot for the guy. Or a really hard one. Either way, it’s not long before Dean’s new roster is the least of his concerns; he wants that dorky doctor guy, and fuck, he wants him for real.

Excerpt: Being in charge, Dean’s job is simple — keep on top of any patients coming up from the ER or down from the OR, page the doctor when there’s a problem, and call the doctor when there’s an emergency. That’s how he ended up in Frank Devereaux’s room with the phone to his ear, and because the on-call doctor is almost always an intern this late at night, he’s willing to bet that whoever picks up isn’t gonna know Frank’s ass from his esophagus. “Hello?” “Hello?” Dean questions. “Is this the on-call doc or a Wendy’s?”  “This is Doctor Novak.” “Right. Well, this is Dean from med-surg. I’m calling about Frank Devereaux in bed two. He had a lap-chole yesterday, got back to the ward about six hours ago. His pain’s currently a nine out of ten, he’s just vomited up a whole lot of bile, and I’ve got a real bad feeling.” “Okay,” the intern says, like a question. “Would you like a consult?” Dean sighs wearily. “That’s why I called.” “Of course,” the intern says. “I’m on my way.” The phone call hasn’t exactly filled Dean with confidence, and it only gets worse when the intern stumbles onto the ward — his hair is all over the place, his stethoscope is hanging unevenly around his neck, he’s wearing these teal scrubs that are about a whole size too small and therefore clinging to every inch of him, and he’s wearing them with a pair of fucking Converse high-tops, of all things. All interns are cocky, that’s a given, but the cockiest of all is the surgical intern. Each and every year, guaranteed.  “Hello,” he says. “I’m looking for Dean.” Dean glances down at his own name tag. Unfortunately, it’s still right where he pinned it to his scrub top, so it seems the new intern might not even be able to read. In the interest of being nice, he forces a smile. “You found him.” “Oh. Hello, Dean,” the intern says. “I believe we spoke on the phone.” Dean only nods, waiting for the intern to introduce himself, but he does no such thing. No, this guy just stands there, he runs his fingers through his bedraggled hair, and so now there’s a smear of ink on his forehead where it’s rubbed against whatever’s written on his hand. Pointedly, Dean says, “And what did you say your name was again?” “I’m Doctor Novak.” Dean looks Doctor Novak up, down, then back up again. Taking him apart. He’s got bags under his eyes and cracks in his lips. Doctor or not, this guy’s a fucking mess.  “Well, doc,” Dean says, probably against his better judgment. “Frank’s this way.”

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

[latenightsundayblues]

Hope that anon from a day ago sees this drawing now that i think i get what this ship's about lmfao

This is what you get if you call for immediate medical assistance in the middle of the night after a quest for vengeance gone wrong; a grumpy doctor, indelicate handling of sensitive wounds, less-than-ideal hygienic conditions for the procedure you need and one hell of an earful. Oh, well. At least you get to stare at his tousled hair and charmingly skewed glasses through it all.

[fratttymatty]

Straight To The Top

(All characters are 18+)

Ryan Holden had always felt like he was stuck. At 28, his life felt like a loop, always the same. He had a decent job in a dull office, a small apartment, and a routine that left him unfulfilled. His world revolved around responsibilities—work, bills, gym visits, and the occasional bar hangout with friends who seemed to be moving forward with their lives, while he stayed in the same place.

Ryan wasn’t unhappy, exactly, but there was a deep-seated dissatisfaction that had been gnawing at him for years. His love life was a mess, and his struggles with his sexuality had always left him feeling isolated. Though he had always identified as gay, he never really felt connected to the gay community. His past relationships had been brief and unsatisfying, leaving him wondering if something was wrong with him. He’d tried to embrace his sexuality, but the truth was, he didn’t fit the stereotypical mold of a "gay guy." His lack of connection with others, both in and out of the queer world, led to endless frustration.

Ryan often thought about starting over. What if he could erase everything and become someone else entirely? Someone confident, successful, and—dare he dream—normal?

It started with a strange email one afternoon. It wasn’t spam. It wasn’t a phishing attempt. It was an offer from a company he’d never heard of: The Rebirth Corporation.

The subject line was simple: "A Chance for a Fresh Start"

The email spoke of a revolutionary service, one that promised to completely transform a person’s life—body, mind, and even sexuality. The process was expensive, but Ryan felt a strange pull. What if this was the chance he had been waiting for? A new life. A new identity. He clicked the link and skimmed through the website. The before-and-after photos were dramatic—people looking younger, healthier, and more confident. Most of the testimonials mentioned how they had completely reinvented themselves, and many even stated they had experienced a shift in their sexual orientation.

For someone like Ryan, who had always felt like an outsider, this seemed like the perfect solution. He could finally break free from his old, unsatisfying life and become the person he had always dreamed of being—someone who could fit in with the popular crowd, maybe even date a hot girl. He’d been tired of his awkward, disconnected self for so long. What did he have to lose?

Ryan booked a consultation. The days that followed were filled with medical screenings, psychological evaluations, and the overwhelming realization that he was about to undergo something radical. The procedure promised to not only reshape his body, but also alter his personality and sexual orientation. It was exactly what he needed, he told himself. No more confusion. No more loneliness. He just wanted to be someone people would look up to—someone who could confidently walk through life and leave his old self behind.

The procedure was intense.

He was led into a sterile, high-tech facility, where the doctors explained that he would be unconscious for several hours as the transformation took place. His body would be reshaped, his mind reprogrammed, and his personality restructured. It wasn’t just about changing his physical appearance—it was about making him into the person he should have been.

As the anesthesia took hold, Ryan’s last thought was that he couldn’t wait to wake up as someone else, someone better.

When Ryan woke up, everything felt... different.

He opened his eyes to a new world, a world where the reflection in the mirror no longer showed him, but someone else entirely. Gone was the scruffy, awkward 28-year-old man. In his place was an 18-year-old high school student with a sleek, athletic build and sharp features. His hair was tousled in a trendy way, his skin clear and glowing. He was taller, fitter, and far more attractive than he had ever been. As he touched his face, his fingers traced the sharp jawline, the chiseled cheekbones. It was almost like looking at a stranger.

His clothes had changed too—no more outdated shirts and jeans. He wore a simple Nike shirt, the logo boldly emblazoned on his chest. His grey sweatpants shorts clung to his newly defined legs, showcasing his athletic build, while his trainers—expensive, sleek, and effortlessly stylish—tied it all together. It wasn’t just comfortable; it was the kind of casual, athletic look that screamed confidence. His outfit screamed that he was a guy who knew how to take care of himself—and had the physique to back it up. It was the kind of outfit that would make any high schooler want to be him, or at least envy him.

But it wasn’t just his body that was different. The transformation went deeper.

Ryan—or whoever he was now—felt something snap inside him. His mind was clearer, sharper, more confident. Gone was the self-doubt that had plagued him for years. He stood straighter, feeling an almost overpowering sense of entitlement.

He wasn’t just physically changed; he was a completely different person now. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Ryan had been a loser—a weak, confused guy who couldn’t even accept his sexuality. The new Ethan was the kind of guy who could walk into a room and demand attention. He was no longer shy or unsure. Now, he was confident. He was in control. He was better than the old Ryan.

Ethan couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in years, he felt like he had the world at his feet.

And then there was something else. His attraction to men—something that had been a constant part of his identity as Ryan—was gone. He didn’t even think about it. In fact, as he started to interact with people in his new life, he realized that he didn’t want to think about men at all. His thoughts were entirely focused on women.

He felt a strange, almost superior sense of self now. The idea of being attracted to men disgusted him. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to be gay anymore; he felt like it was something beneath him. He wanted to be normal, to be the guy every woman wanted and every guy envied.

In fact, the idea of hanging out with his old friends—many of whom were gay—began to seem distasteful. He wasn’t one of them anymore. Why would he want to be associated with a group that always seemed so… needy? He was done with all that. Ethan Brooks was better than that. He was a straight guy, a guy who could take what he wanted in life.

At school, Ethan quickly became a presence. He was no longer the shy, introverted Ryan who kept to himself. He was a jock, a natural leader with a sharp tongue and a confidence that bordered on arrogance. He was the guy everyone noticed, the guy who could walk into a room and turn heads without even trying. And he loved it.

He started flirting with girls like it was second nature. He was charming, but with an edge—a kind of cocky arrogance that made him seem untouchable. His confidence wasn’t just alluring; it was commanding.

One girl in particular caught his attention: Amber. She was the epitome of a popular valley girl—blonde, bubbly, and effortlessly beautiful. A cheerleader and a member of the school’s social elite, Amber was used to guys falling all over her. But there was something about Ethan. His confidence, his athletic build, and that aura of cockiness made him irresistible. Amber didn’t waste time on guys who weren’t "top-tier," and Ethan was definitely top-tier now.

Amber, for her part, wasn’t one to waste time with anything "weird." She’d always thought gay people were... well, gross. She didn’t exactly know why, but she just couldn’t understand why guys would ever want to be with other guys. She much preferred the handsome, strong, straight athletes—guys like Ethan, who were popular and secure in their masculinity.

And so, when Ethan began showing interest in her, Amber didn’t hesitate. The fact that he seemed so different—more confident, more arrogant, and a little bit dangerous—was exactly what she loved. She wasn’t shy about flirting with him either.

She sidled up to him one afternoon in the hallway, giving him a big smile. “So, like, you’re totally new around here, huh?” she giggled. “I’m Amber, in case you didn’t know. I’m pretty much the cheerleader around here.”

Ethan flashed her a smirk. “I figured. You’ve got that ‘I’m important’ vibe,” he teased, leaning in close. “But I’m guessing you’re not one to just hang out with anyone, huh?”

Amber raised an eyebrow, tossing her hair. “Nope. You have to be seriously hot and totally straight to make my list.”

Ethan smirked again, his eyes scanning her body briefly. “Good thing I tick all the boxes then.”

Amber grinned, feeling herself blush just a little. She liked his attitude—it was the kind of cocky self-assurance she craved. There was something thrilling about being with a guy who didn’t just want her, but knew he could have her.

As the days went on, Ethan and Amber became inseparable. Amber was drawn to his confidence, and the way he commanded attention without even trying. They started dating, and while Amber enjoyed the idea of being with such a dominant guy, Ethan seemed to grow more and more dismissive of anything or anyone who didn’t fit into his new world.

The more Amber got to know him, the more she noticed his dismissive attitude toward anyone who seemed “weird,” or “different.” He constantly made offhand remarks about how people should just act “normal,” especially when it came to sexuality.

“Like, I seriously don’t get why anyone would want to be gay,” he said one day while the two of them hung out by his locker. “It’s just... ugh, you know? Like, why would any guy want to be with another guy? I’m just not into that at all.”

Amber nodded in agreement, her mind wandering. “Yeah, totally. It’s just so... gross. I mean, guys are supposed to like girls. That’s normal.”

Ethan laughed, glad to know Amber was on the same page. He liked the idea of being with someone who didn’t question him. Amber was everything he’d ever wanted—straight, pretty, and totally normal.

Ethan and Amber's relationship grew stronger. Ethan’s cocky attitude, combined with his irresistible confidence, made him the center of attention. And Amber, while enjoying his dominance, couldn’t help but feel a little proud. She knew she could change him, shape him into the perfect guy—a straight, athletic guy who was everything she had always dreamed of.

For Ethan, it was simple: He was on top now. He was in control. He had won.

[badbatchsprincess]

Heated ~ pt. 1

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9 ~ Pt.10 ~Pt.11 ~ Pt.12 ~ Pt.13 ~ Pt.14 ~ Pt.15 ~ Pt.16 ~ Pt.17 ~ Pt.18 ~ Pt.19 ~ Pt.20 ~ Pt.21 ~ Pt.22 ~ Pt.23 ~ Pt.24 ~ Pt.25

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake. 

No warnings for this, just world building... welcome lol.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

After approximately 90 rotations aboard the Marauder, give or take a few days, you were ready to disembark. 

Tech, of course, calculated the accurate amount of time, but you were running on inner planetary standard time. You were exhausted. Truly and totally exhausted. The battles along the outer rim were beginning to overtake every waking thought, and the war only seemed to be escalating. Even though you were just a medical technician, it seemed like you never had a moment to breathe.

The boys had been sent on one mission after another to the most backwater planets you’d never even heard of. In the beginning of working with Clone Force 99, you were thrilled. 

Tired of being on the front lines with Captain Rex and General Skywalker, you thought this would have been a cakewalk compared to tending to the 501st. (Or as you liked to call them, the most reckless GAR unit in history.) Boy, were you wrong…

Rex assigning you to Clone Force 99 had been one of the most challenging places you think a young medic like yourself could have gone. 

These men, in particular, were a unique kind of reckless, and they always seemed to end up in the craziest situations. 

That didn’t mean you didn’t come to grow fond of them, but as GAR procedure demands, they must return to Coruscant for their quarterly medical examinations, and you were relieved. 

While you didn’t particularly care for the bustle of the high-density planet, you could appreciate not being shot at, chased, or bombed at any given second.

The Marauder also didn’t offer the same level of comfort as the Venator Attack Cruisers you’d become accustomed to staying on for months at a time. But it’s alright, you’ve come to enjoy your time with special force 99. 

For a bunch of chaotic Alphas, they were pleasant company. 

Sergeant Hunter was the leader and a remarkable tracker. You couldn’t help but marvel at his heightened abilities; it was really interesting from a medical standpoint. Tech had the brain capacity of a supercomputer and his ex-arc trooper friend, Echo. You actually had known Echo from your early days serving under the 501st. 

It was nice having him around; he seemed to keep the peace and offered some much-needed familiarity. Then there was Wrecker, the sweetest man-child you’d ever met. He had a love for blowing things up, which you found hilarious, and finally, there was Crosshair. You never really knew where you stood with the man. Echo told you it’s because he’s not used to strangers hanging out with his brothers, but you weren’t quite sure. The Alpha was quiet and calculated. He didn’t miss a thing, not with his heightened reflexes. He never said much to you; he often operated in silence unless it was to piss off Hunter, which seemed to be more often than you realized. 

He, however, treated you indifferently. It was just odd for an Alpha to not acknowledge an Omega. Not to say you needed his attention, it was just different. You speculated it had to do with his genetic mutations; maybe he was too good at focusing on his objective. Omegas hardly phased him.

“You ready, Pip?” Wrecker gave your shoulders a gentle shake. 

You smiled at the nickname. “Yeah Wreck, ugh I just really want a real shower.” You sighed, getting a little impatient. 

The Marauder was waiting for landing clearance while you made quick work stowing away the last few stray supplies. You made notes of all the supplies that had been depleted, which was most of it. You shook your head; you’d be raiding the GAR supply facility before deployment for certain. 

“You and me both,” Hunter snorted and settled down in one of the chairs in the cockpit.

Poor guy, you realized, probably had the worst of it all. Living amongst five sweaty dirty men and one medic had his scent on overdrive. Not to mention the dulled pheromones. Being surrounded by so many alphas, the stench was probably awful for him. 

You, however, being an omega on the smaller side, couldn’t smell much, not with your implant which was due for replacement this quarter. Hunter never mentioned anything to you about smell. You just hoped it wasn’t too much for him with all of your implants thankfully. It never seemed like an issue for him. 

“We’re clear for landing,” Echo chirped from the copilot seat. Everyone came up to the front to strap into the jump seats. Crosshair brought your packed bag up with him and placed it gently under your feet before he took the seat next to you and strapped in. You thanked him, and he gave you a silent nod still chewing on his toothpick. 

Echo and Tech gently landed the Marauder in the GAR main hangar bay and finished up the last cross check before disembarking. Wrecker was kind and offered to carry your duffle filled with your civvies and toiletries. You thanked him and followed him out of the Marauder. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, you smiled at the feeling of real sun on your skin. 

Looking down the steps, you squealed, noticing all of the white and blue plastoid on the other side of the hangar bay. Running at full speed, you nearly tripped over your own feet, flinging yourself at Kix. 

He noticed you last minute and swooped you up into his arms, “Hey Tiny! I didn’t know you were on rotation already?” He picked you up and spun you around before putting you down. Your excitement to see your old unit was overwhelming; you couldn’t help but smile as more of your friends on the 501st ran over to give you a hug or a playful shove.

You missed the way Wrecker gawked at your reaction to the Regs. “Well, she certainly doesn’t do that with us,” Tech noted, watching you rub up against the alphas in a comforting manner, purring under their affection. 

“Fucking Regs,” Crosshair groused. 

Echo remembered how fond you are of the 501st. He remembered when you were a newbie just starting your medical field days bonding with General Tano as teens. He felt a little nostalgic watching you with his vod. He laughed remembering how Ahsoka would scent you before sending you out into the field. They loved you so much. 

Tech noted how comfortable you were with their touch and scenting. Something no one in their unit ever attempted with you. Of course, they were aware of your designation, but they tried their hardest to be respectful. Hunter had made it extremely clear no one was supposed to touch you unless necessary. It had been six months of your service on their unit, and no one has ever gotten this close with you except Wrecker, but it wasn’t anything like that. 

The alpha in Tech was a little upset by this. Why didn’t the omega feel comfortable with them? 

Hunter listened to the way you preened under their attention, and his chest pained a bit hearing your purrs. Was he… jealous? No. That’s his medic, that's all. He had read your file; you’d been with them for most of the war. Of course, that would make you closer. He could smell the happy pheromones you spread from where they were. You were happy with the 501st’s attention; it wasn’t something he knew you craved.

“I’m here for quarterlies,” you tapped your shoulder, “And I’m due for replacement.” You sighed. “Ahh,” Kix smirked, “Difficult enough dealing with us reg alphas huh? Gotta deal with defects now too huh? Got that implant working overtime.” 

You rolled your eyes and shoved him. 

A cough behind you caught your attention. You spun around to see your unit catching up, looking a little perturbed, especially Crosshair. He’s never warmed up to the Regs and didn’t particularly like you sharing your fond stories about them. You usually keep to yourself in his presence or else he’d get a little hostile. 

“Sarge,” Kix greeted with a head tilt. 

“Kix,” Hunter gave him a polite nod, “Captain.” He looked beyond you. 

You spun around, “Rex!” You ran at him, wrapping yourself around your old captain. “Hey kid,” he laughed, giving you a pat on the head looking down at you.

 “I’m older than you, Captain,” you rolled your eyes with a smile. 

“So you like to remind me,” he laughed, suddenly realizing how much he had missed you. 

You stepped back with a huge smile. Suddenly everything was starting to feel good again. 90 rotations didn’t seem so terrible anymore. You giggled as they all filed in demanding to know how you’ve been.

 “We’re heading to 79’s later,” Jesse smiled, “You gotta come Y/N. I wanna hear about your adventures to the outer rim.” 

“Especially me,” Fives trotted forwards shoving you playfully aside before embracing his brother Echo, “Vod!” He hugged Echo tight. Echo relaxed into his hug and gave him a curt smile. “How you doing?” Fives asked, wrapping his arm around Echo’s shoulder before walking off with him towards the barracks to no doubt catch up. 

“I got a replacement due,” you sighed, “I can’t drink but I’ll stop by for a bit to catch up!” 

They all seemed to light up at that, “See you there, kid!” Captain Rex gave you a nod and turned on his heel to get back to work and make sure the General’s Venator was getting proper maintenance. 

“C’mon, Pip,” Hunter was leading the others towards the medical campus for their quarterlies. 

You huffed, “Coming, Sarge.” 

“Pip?” You heard the others laugh a bit at your new nickname when you trailed off behind your new unit. Damn their long legs you were struggling to hold pace with them. 

Crosshair gave you an incredulous look watching you try to catch up. You gave it right back to him. 

“Miss your precious Regs?” He sneered. You didn’t miss the way Tech’s shoulders stiffened. Wrecker and Hunter pretended not to hear, but you knew they did. You suddenly missed having Echo as your defense. 

“What?” You looked at him. 

“You heard me,” he growled. 

“Of course I missed my old unit. I haven’t seen them in six standard months, Crosshair.” 

“That all?” He was cold. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” You stopped and crossed your arms forcing him to stop walking. 

Crosshair pointed his toothpick at you, “Throwing yourself at a bunch of alphas like a bitch in hea-”

 “Enough!” Hunter growled. 

Your cheeks burned red. How dare he. You looked to Wrecker and then Tech but the looks on their faces didn’t exactly show any support for you. Did they agree?…Maker. Wrecker lowered his gaze which surprised you the most. 

Crosshair never really said much to you besides if you asked him an immediate question about his health or an injury. He usually somewhat avoided you. But you never thought he disliked you, at least up until now. The disgust was obvious on his face. 

You just shook your head and continued stalking towards the medical campus, ignoring Hunter’s call. Your shore-leave was becoming more and more desirable by the second. You wanted space especially from Mr. dark and gloomy. 

Deciding you’ve had enough of them, you detoured for your department entrance leaving them to go into the main medical campus alone. You knew Tech had all of your reports stowed on his datapad records. They would survive without you at least for now. You thought you heard Wrecker whimper behind you, but the sound of ion engines priming drowned out the rest before you stepped inside the medic clinic. Fuck Crosshair. What a dickhead.

You shook your head knowing you had other things to focus on besides his stupid little attitude. 

Passing through multiple security clearances, you stepped into the sterile clinic’s main lobby. 

“Medic Y/L/N?” You heard a familiar soft voice. 

“Hi Layla.” You smiled sweetly at the nurse who you came to know during your training program. Being an omega, she opted to stay on base instead of venturing out into the battle fronts she was definitely more gentle mannered than yourself. You preferred some action and excitement. 

“In for your quarterly’s?”

"Yeah, and I need a new replacement implant," you muttered as you trailed behind Layla toward one of the deserted exam rooms. The clinical white walls felt suffocating, a stark contrast to the chaotic memories you shared here. You reminisced about your early days serving the GAR, where Layla and you tended to wounded soldiers and even brushed shoulders with the occasional Jedi. But that was before you were transferred to General Skywalker’s unit, thrust into the heart of battle and endless repairs for him and his Padawan. You missed the simplicity of those days, the camaraderie with Layla.

”How’s the 501st treating you?" Layla's voice broke through your reverie as she handed you a crumpled paper gown.

"I got transferred to Special Forces 99," you replied, shedding your uniform behind the flimsy curtain. "They’re a different breed, that's for sure."

"Clone Force 99?" Layla's eyebrows rose in curiosity.

“Yeah.” you confirmed, feeling a flicker of amusement at her reaction.

As Layla chewed on her pen, a mischievous glint danced in her eyes. "The Sergeant’s pretty hot."

Your cheeks flushed, and you nearly stumbled over your words before recovering. “Layla…” You gawked.

She giggled and sat down on her roller stool. "Don’t lie and say you’ve never thought about it."

Well, obviously you’ve thought about it. They’re all honestly pretty hot, but you’d never admit that out loud.

"Now where have you seen Hunter like that?" you giggled at her cheekiness.

"I watch the holonet streams every once in a while. Especially after the retrieval on Skako Minor, General Skywalker and Sergeant CT-9901 were all over the holonet for weeks," she mused. "An omega’s wet dream."

You screamed and threw your boot at her. You two looked at each other momentarily before bursting out into a fit of laughter. Man, you missed Layla. Honestly, you just missed having another girl to talk to. This was such a refresher from the overwhelming amount of Alpha.

You hopped up on the table, lying down, trying to get comfortable.

"What’s he like?" her tone shifted into mischief.

You hesitated, memories of Hunter flooding your mind. "He’s… different. Polite, I guess."

Layla raised an eyebrow, her expression demanding the truth. “Girl…” she slapped your shoulder, grabbing her scanner to document your entire system from head to toe.

"Well, I don’t know!" you put your hands up in defense. "He’s quite the gentleman. None of them so much as look, Layla, I swear."

She just looked at you with a raised brow while she continued her work, “Yeah right.”

"But…" you smirked, watching her work, "I do know the tattoos go to his feet…" you bit your lip.

Now it was her turn to choke. "You’re lying…" Her interest was piqued.

You shook your head. "Full skeleton all the way down his arm, ribs, thigh…"

You two sighed.

She finished her scan and input the data before sliding her roller chair right next to you. "Everywhere?"

You raised a brow. "Everywhere," you confirmed with a nod.

She put her hand over her chest in a dramatic manner before prepping the numbing agent for your implant.

You remembered the day you found out this information about your Sergeant. Up until this point, you’d only seen maybe an arm or some knuckles in your medical repairs, but this time Hunter had taken a pretty bad hit to his side and thigh. Multiple blaster wounds had torn him up, and Tech had helped him limp back to the ship before they both collapsed on the floor. You had flung yourself out of your bunk at the commotion only to realize what had happened.

Tech helped you tear off Hunter’s armor and helmet, trying to figure out where the wounds were. Luckily, they hadn’t gone through, and it was mostly just surface wounds, but you still had to cut through his blacks to get to it, leaving his entire left side exposed. He had growled at you, but Tech had set him straight. He was just in pain.

That’s when you realized his entire left side was tattooed like his face, all the way down to his feet. You mumbled a quick apology before starting your cleaning process and bacta application.

The wounds had healed up nicely, but he had to re-tattoo the fresh skin the next time they had shore-leave. You had also stowed away the information of how muscular he was. The man was truly a work of art.

A sharp jab snapped you out of your memories when Layla removed the old suppressor implant. You yelped when the new one went in, making you a bit dizzy with pain. You hissed when she retracted the mechanism.

"There we go," she beamed. "Good as new."

"Thanks, Layla," you said, sitting up, letting her bandage the small incision wound with a bacta patch. The soothing coldness was immediate. You sighed in relief as the pain dulled.

"I told Rex I’d be at 79’s later, if you want to come?" you offered, slipping from the table to give her a hug.

"As much as I’d love to play with the captain, I have so much work to catch up on for quarterly's. I better stay here," she sighed, pushing her chair back into place. "But you have fun, and enjoy your time off. Come back to visit if you get bored."

You giggled. "I will." And with that, she left you to change back into your uniform before leaving the medic’s clinic. The hangar bay was significantly more empty now as you made your way over to civilian transport. After exiting the security checkpoint, you made your way over to the clone transport. "Can you take me to residential?" you asked the officer in the pilot’s seat. He gave you a nod, and you settled back into the transport’s seats. With a sigh, you were finally starting to relax a bit. You knew the boys were probably already back at their barracks after their examinations, so you knew they wouldn’t be bothering you for at least a few rotations.

When you finally arrived to the GAR residential building you gave the driver a thanks before hoping out and skipping over to the front door. You couldn’t wait to get to your quarters and enjoy a long hot shower. Swiping your clearance card, you dashed into the elevator to your floor and into your room. It smelled like you needed to open a window but other then that is was just as you left it. Knowing you’d have to get some food delivered, you gave a dramatic sigh while kicking off your regulation boots. You went to unzip your uniform top when you heard the swish of clothing and a familiar scoff. 

You turned suddenly seeing Crosshair standing in your kitchen in his civvies looking tall and menacing. 

“Maker! Crosshair!” You put a hand on your chest, “You scared me!” 

“Sorry little one.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. 

You looked around suddenly remembering you’re in YOUR apartment. 

“What the hell are you doing here Crosshair?” You narrowed your gaze at him getting mad all over again. 

“Hunter is making me apologize for earlier.” He grumbled around his toothpick. 

You hummed, “How did you get in here?” 

He held up the Sergeant’s entry card. Of course… dammit Hunter.

“Here.” He slid your duffle across the floor to you. A peace offering. You were grateful for that at least. 

A deep pang in your shoulder made you grimace “Thanks.” You unzipped your uniform top leaving you in your bindings not caring if he looked. He didn’t seem phased anyways. The bacta patch stained red with your blood. He narrowed his eyes to the incision. You knelt down to your duffle and pulled out your field kit. You grabbed a dose of pain killer and brought the injector up to the wound site. You pressed the mechanism and the needle stabbed you quickly injecting the medicine. You rolled your shoulder and replaced the bacta patch seeing the wound turning to a simple line. Soon it would be gone in a few hours. 

“So?” You looked at the tall sniper. 

He lifted a brow. 

You crossed your arms, “Your apology?” 

He snorted and stood up straight before walking past you. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled before stepping back out into the hallway and disappearing. 

You sighed knowing that was all you’re going to get from the grumpy soldier. Whatever, you’d take it. 

~~~

The shower that followed was worth it. You had never felt so clean in your few years in this universe. The piping hot water cleansed you of three standard months of sweat, bomb residue, and blood. You scrubbed and scrubbed until your skin flared red before you stepped out of the shower to get ready. Throwing on your favorite civvies and some makeup, you quickly dried your hair before throwing on your regulation boots. Grabbing your com and a few credits. You practically skipped out of your apartment making a beeline for 79’s. You couldn’t wait to catch up with your old friends.

When you arrived, you heard an uproar of men yelling your name. You looked over to see Fives, Jesse, Kix, and the others wave you over. 

“Tiny!” You got tackled by Fives. He put you in a headlock and ruffled your hair despite your cries. You shoved him off of you knowing he must have scented you in the process. 

“Ugh! Fives you reek.” You scrunched your nose smelling the alpha on him it was stronger then usual.

“Sorry tiny.” He laughed rubbing the back of his neck, “We gotta get our implants replaced too.” 

You shook your head and plopped down in the booth next to Kix with a laugh. He shoved the snack plate in your face continuing his conversation with another soldier to his right. You were starving and started munching down on the mantell mix.

“Hope that wont be a problem kid.” Rex smiled at you. 

You just yanked your collar down to show them the patch, “All good captain.” 

That made them relax. The 501st is many things, but they were always chivalrous towards you. Being their favorite omega and all, they had always taken a very protective stance with you. None of them tried anything and they had always kept away the creeps. You were thankful for their protection. 

Your current hoard of alphas though, you didn’t really know where you stood with them. They kind of pretended like you weren’t there. You quickly realized they weren’t used to working with strangers, and an omega of all things. At first they treated you like a fragile little thing. Like they were worried they’d step on you. They couldn’t help but stare. You didn’t really blame them. Eventually it wore off and they seemed to become a bit more comfortable with your presence. Until it became normal. Except Crosshair, he never seemed to warm up to you and kept you at arms length. 

“So how’s your new unit?” Fives asked sounding a bit jealous. 

You giggled, “They’re.. nice.” 

They all looked at you. 

“What?” You shrunk under their looks. Even Rex stared. 

“Nice?” Jesse laughed. 

“That’s not exactly the word I’d use.” Rex raised a brow, “You’re okay, right kid?” 

You opened your mouth in shock, “Guys I’m okay. I swear.”

They visibly relaxed. 

“Look, it took some getting used to. I don’t think they’ve ever been around strangers before they’re very close. Clearly. Eventually they warmed up. Except the sniper. I think he might actually not like me.” 

Fives just scoffed, “It’s because your’e hot cyar’ika”

Jesse punched him in the stomach. Fives doubled over and everyone at the table grumbled at him. You just felt your cheeks burn up and you hid behind Kix’s shoulder. 

“Fives…” Rex sighed. 

“What?” He choked out, “I’m just saying. I don’t think those defects have been anywhere near a woman much less an omega. Aye!” He blocked Jesse’s punch again. 

“What omega?” You heard a gruff voice approach. 

It was Commander Wolffe and the pack still in uniform. Rex got up and clapped him on the shoulder getting him settled in. He placed his helmet on the table and peered over at you. 

“I don’t think we’ve met cyar’ika.” He grinned at you showing off his scar and grey iris. 

You felt your heart rate increase under his intense stare. You could tell this alpha was seasoned, first generation from the looks of him. You were certain that if you didn’t have your implant, you'd be keening for his attention. Instead, you submissively lowered your gaze and leaned into Kix a bit. He wrapped an arm around you and looked up at the Commander, saying, “This is Y/N; we call her Tiny.” He shook you playfully, adding, “She used to be our medic. Now she’s with the 99’s.”

Wolffe let out a low whistle. “The 99’s? Must be exciting. Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said, extending a hand, which you took, giving it a good shake. His calloused fingers lingered a bit as he ran them over your soft knuckles.

Looking up at him from beneath your lashes, you said, “Nice to meet you, Commander,” giving him a polite smile.

He smiled back, clearly pleased with your attention. Oh, he liked you, you thought to yourself. He then gently released your hand and turned to his men. “Let’s get a round of drinks. We’re off for quarterly’s!”

His men let out a whooping shout, and the waitress took down their orders. The pack quickly became rowdy, opting for roughhousing with each other and the shinies. After a long while of dodging his gaze and eating the food Kix placed in front of you, you decided you needed a cold glass of water and squeezed out from under Kix’s arm. The stench of so many alphas was starting to become too much, even with the implant. You were praying they couldn’t smell the nervousness on you.

Walking up to the bar, the woman smiled at you. She recognized you, as you usually spent your time with the boys when you were off. She gave you a little wave and bounced over, asking what you wanted.

“Just water for me,” you smiled. She smiled back and went to fill up your glass.

“What’s a pretty little omega doing in a place like this?” a shiny walked up to you, placing himself uncomfortably close to your back. You turned, facing him square on. Despite all clones being created as alphas, this one was young and stupid. Your omega instincts told you he’d be a weak mate. You noticed the lack of markings and scratches on his armor. He’s barely seen anything, you realized.

“I’m here with my friends,” you replied curtly, taking the glass of ice water from the bartender with a nod. You went to move away, but he caught your arm in a tight grip. Not tight enough to hurt, but tight enough to assert his dominance and stop you from leaving. You just looked at his hand and then up to his face.

“I wasn’t done with you… omega,” he leered, leaning forward to run his nose closer to your scent glands. Your heart rate increased for all the wrong reasons. Fear started to creep up inside you the longer he had his hands on you. Now you wished Fives had scented you for real. 

“Why are you messing with my medic?” 

You stiffened. 

Hunter’s smokey voice cut through the music of the club making your entire spine tingle. Hunter had used his Alpha tone making you tremble in spot. The shiny suddenly looked up eyes going wide. He quickly released you and saluted Hunter.“Sorry Seargant. I didn’t know she was yours.” 

“Hmm” Hunter dismissed him and grabbed you by the same arm the shiny had just moments ago, except this time the touch didn’t feel dangerous. Instead it made your stomach flip. He’d never touched you unless it was for medical purposes. You couldn’t help the little preen inside you bubbling up. Alpha Protects. He lead you past the shiny and over to an empty booth in the back of the club. You could hear Layla’s voice ringing in your head. She’d be eating this up right now. You prayed your pheromones didn’t give you away.

He finally let you go when you reached the booth waiting for you to slide in. You immediately missed the warmth of his bare hand. You realized they were all in their civvies, well except tech, he still had his helmet near by. The rest of them slid into the booth following suit. 

“She’s smells like Regs.” Wrecker crinkled his nose. Between, Fives, Kix, and the shiny you knew you reeked.

“Sorry.” You mumbled taking a sip of your water still a little pissed with them.

“You okay pip?” Hunter asked looking you in the eyes. You suddenly shied away from his gaze looking down at his shirt collar nodding. His eyes were too intense. You usually didn’t have a problem, but you were still trebling from the effects of his voice lingering. 

“Did something happen?” Tech asked from around Hunter’s shoulder. 

“I’m alright. Just a dumb shiny.” You felt like you were being suffocated by their stares. 

They laughed a bit at that. 

“Okay, I can’t take it anymore.” Wrecker shoved you under his arm and rubbed his scent all over you. You coughed and sputtered trying to shove him away but it was no use. Crosshair rolled his eyes.

“Alright Wrecker enough.” Hunter sighed looking down at you drowning in alpha, “She’s covered.” 

“Ugh.” You tried to straightening out your hair and top a bit, “Easy next time big guy. I think every alpha for a mile can smell me now.” 

He just gleamed. You couldn’t help but be a bit grateful. It seems like everyone was due for an updated implant. The smells were getting to be out of control. No one would come near you now. Even the rough housing seemed to be a little aggressive than usual. They had asked you about the wolf pack but you just shrugged watching their rough housing turn into full on brawls.

The boys continued talking about something random that Tech had info dumped about and Wrecker of course was confused. You continued to sip on your ice water before you heard your name being called. You popped your head up from the booth to find Fives looking for you. You sighed and put your cup down. Part of you didn’t want to go back because of the attention the commander was giving you, but the other part of you wanted to spend some time with Rex and the boys. Damn these alphas. 

Opting to stay where you were, Fives and the boys decided to come over towards you. Knowing this was probably going to go badly, you shrunk into the booth. Hunter eyed you before he heard Crosshair snarl. A large group of Regs came trotting over to come socialize like a bunch of drunk pups. They all pulled up chairs and surrounded the booth with their rambunctiousness. 

“Where’d you go Tiny?” Jesse was sloshed. Leaning over Fives who was barely holding himself together. 

“Tiny, did you see the way the commander was looking at you?” Fives shoved Jesse off of him, “I think he’s trying to-” he jiggled his brows suggestively at you and you just shook your head and wanted to melt into the table. Please not this. Not with my commanding officer present. Not my very hot commanding officer present. You wanted to slap Layla why did she have to start putting these thoughts into your head. 

“Commander Wolffe?” Tech asked for clarification. 

Fives just nodded taking another big sip from his cup.

“Someone shoot me.” You covered your face you were too sober for this conversation. You could feel Crosshairs smirk from across the table.

“Awh pip.” Wrecker just grabbed you again and shook you around, “The Commander thinks you’re prettyyyy.” 

Fives and Jesse giggled. Hunter and the others just looked uncomfortable. Obviously they weren’t the most social, nor playful. This was just embarrassing. Your only comfort was Wrecker. He was always the nicest anyways. You just tucked yourself into his side forgetting his betrayal earlier. 

“The Commander wants to rut with Y/N?” Tech asked. 

“Maker.” You wanted to dissipate into thin air.

“Mhmm.” Jesse and Fives nodded with cheesy grins, “she gave him the eyes.” 

You scoffed, “I did not!” 

“Yeah you did!” Fives giggles. He then looked at Jesse and re-enacted the whole scene dramatically, “It’s nice to meet you commander.” He fluttered his eyelashes at Jesse and held his hand. You groaned and put your head down on the table. 

“I need a drink.” You whimpered not able to take the teasing.

“Is that wise?” Tech chimed in, “You just had your implant replaced. It’s advised to not drink for the first 24 hours or else it may be ineffective.” 

“Kriff.” You sighed. 

“And that’s my cue to come rescue Tiny.” Kix interjected and yanked you up from the booth taking you far away from this painfully awkward conversation. You thanked him profusely letting him guide you.

“You’re nervous when you’re sober.” He laughed walking over to the dance floor with you. 

“I’m nervous because of my Sergeant.” You whisper in his ear. He just gives you a questionable look. You laugh and shake your head, “A friend of mine said something today and I can’t get it out of my stupid omega head.” 

“Oh?” He raised a brow dancing to the beat. 

“Shut up.” You laughed praying Hunter couldn’t hear you over the yelling and music, “They also don’t like the “Regs,” you shook your head. 

“Well I know why.” He replied spinning you around. 

“Why?” You asked swaying to the beat. 

“Everyone was so mean to them growing up. Kids are horrible you know. But because they’re different they definitely dealt with a lot during training days.” Kix informed you. Suddenly everything made sense. Especially why Crosshair can’t seem to socialize with Regs to save his life. 

“Plus, the Captain decked the sniper on Skako Minor.” Kix said cheekily. 

You dropped your jaw, “Rex?” You couldn’t believe it. There’s no way level headed Rex lost it with Crosshair.

“Oh yeah.” He laughed, “They got into it while trying to find Echo.” 

“No way.” You couldn’t believe it. While dancing you peered over at the table to find the four 99’s watching you completely ignoring the drunk shenanigans from the 501st boys. The only one interacting was Echo. You could tell there was a part of him that missed his brothers. They continued to drink and talk amongst themselves while you and Kix danced on the floor. Some of the other 501st boys joined you before linking up with pretty omegas vying for their attention. Clearly their interests were else where.

You definitely didn’t miss the way the Commander seemed to be unable to take his eyes off of you from his chair. You chose to ignore him. 

An alpha like that could send you into heat with or without an implant. You however had a job to do, and being stuck in his bed for a week wouldn’t suffice. The mortification of even thinking about returning to the Marauder after that. You couldn’t even go there. Crosshair would literally never let you hear the end of it. He might shove you out of the airlock when you weren’t expecting it. 

Kix seemed to be reading your mind and elected to giggle. You slapped him on the arm and he feigned injury. Just then, you noticed the Commander stand and seemingly decide to come your way. Feeling there to flee, you quickly hugged Kix and made a dart for the door. Grabbing your comm you let the boys know you’d be returning to your apartment but to your dismay, Hunter replied…

“Don’t bother we just got special orders. We’re shipping out tonight.” He sounded tired. So much for shore-leave.

“Ugh.” You whined turning to the taxi waiting by the club entrance. You put your comm away in your pocket and fished around for a few credits ignoring the way the cool evening air chilled your skin.

“Something wrong Cyar’ika?” The gruff voice you were dreading came from behind you. Damn your omega tendencies. You turned keeping your eyes lowered. 

“Everything is alright Commander.” You replied sweetly, “I just got informed my break has been cut short. We ship out again tonight.” 

He sighed stepping forwards and placed his pointer finger under your chin to tilt your head up. You nearly whimpered looking into his scarred eye. Alpha’s strong. Alpha likes you. Alpha smells good. Really good. You wanted to whine when his eye zeroed in on yours. He wanted your eyes on him that was for certain. Maybe a breakout heat with the Commander wouldn’t be too bad…

“Well if you ever need anything you let me know, yeah?” The Commander smiled wolfishly at you and released you. You took a deep breath and took a step back and nodded your head. 

“Y/N?” You heard Tech’s call come to your rescue, “Do you need a ride?” 

You grabbed your comm and quickly responded with shaking hands, “Yeah that would be nice thank you Tech.” 

It wasn’t long until their speeder arrived and you turned back to the Commander who had no issue walking you over to your unit. You could tell by Hunter skeptical glance that he was trying to figure out the situation. The Commander passed you over to your men and have you a nod before putting his helmet back on and walking back into the club. 

“What was that about?” Hunter asked with a raised brow. 

“I really don’t want to talk about it.” You shook your head and practically dove into the speeder. 

“Did the Commander proposition you?” Tech asked pushing his glasses back up. 

You squeaked and hid in the backseat. 

“Stop bothering her.” Echo shook his head. Thank the maker for Echo. 

“It was a harmless question.” Tech justified, “As we were talking about his strange attentions earlier and Y/N’s even more unordinary response according to the Regs.” 

You looked out the window of the speeder at the endless city below, “I’m going to jump.” You half joked. 

“Tech please drop it.” Echo implored, “You’re making her uncomfortable… and me.” 

“It’s just biological responses.” Tech grumbled into his data pad, “Nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

You sighed. This was going to be another long mission, and then you were going to take it upon yourself to insure you got a vacation. Hopefully there was something Rex could do to get you some time off for real this time far away from all of these men. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

This part one, I'll be posting regularly to this story, I hope y'all enjoy!

[vunblr]

Unspoken (Ch.2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Warnings: 18+ only. Wet Dream, Angst-Hurt/Comfort, Alusions to Hydra's Trash Party (if you don't know what that is, google about it before reading please), Alusions to Sexual Abuse, Invasive Medical Procedure, Panic Attack situation, Sam being Sam.

Summary: Bucky tries to deal with his traumatic past, and struggles with his feelings as he grows closer to a new Avenger.

Word Count: About 7.2.k.

notes: Second and final chapter of this story. I hope you enjoy it!

The limo was packed, the air thick with anticipation and, in Bucky’s case, a simmering sense of discomfort. Y/n was squeezed up against the side of the car, her body brushing against his, while Sam sat across from them, legs casually sprawled out, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Well, look at us,” Sam said, stretching his arms out theatrically. “All dressed up for a fancy night out. Bucky, you clean up pretty well for a guy who spends most of his time brooding in corners.”

Bucky shot him a glare but didn’t bother to respond, his focus on keeping his breathing steady as her leg pressed against his. She had no idea how much that little contact was messing with his already frayed nerves. The warmth of her body beside him felt too familiar after what happened last night. He shifted slightly, trying to create some space, but it was impossible in the cramped limo.

“Aw, come on, Buck,” Sam continued, clearly enjoying himself. “Don’t tell me you’re still sulking about coming along. I mean, it’s for charity, man. And if anyone here knows how to be charitable, it’s you.” His grin widened as he leaned forward. “Especially when it comes to these two fine ladies.”

Steve, who sat beside Sam, chuckled, shaking his head as he turned his attention to Y/n and Natasha. “He’s right, though,” Steve said, his voice warm. “You both are amazing women, but tonight you’re especially lovely.”

Y/n blushed under Steve’s compliment, offering a playful smile in return. “Thanks, Steve. But really, all credit goes to Nat here for dragging me into this.”

Natasha smirked, lounging next to Y/n in a striking red dress. “You’ll thank me later when we clean house in that bachelorette’s auction.”

Bucky, meanwhile, was doing his best to avoid looking directly at her. The black dress was more than enough to set him on edge, the low neckline and mesh stockings flashing in his peripheral vision like a neon sign, reminding him of the dream that wouldn’t leave him alone. He clenched his jaw and stared out the window, trying to focus on the passing streetlights instead.

“You good back there, Clank?” Sam teased again, noticing Bucky’s tense posture. “You look like you’re about to crack a tooth.” he leaned back, crossing his arms with a cocky grin plastered across his face.

Bucky’s jaw clenched harder, and his metal fingers flexed, the soft whir of gears barely audible over Sam’s incessant teasing. “Keep talking, Sam,” he muttered, his voice low and warning. “See where that gets you.”

Sam wasn’t letting up. “Oh, come on. I’ve seen that look before. That’s the ‘I’ve got feelings but don’t know what to do with them’ look.” His grin widened, clearly enjoying how riled up Bucky was getting. “You worried someone’s gonna outbid you tonight?” he teased, relishing the tension. “Not that you could, you know, since you didn’t even sign up to participate.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed, the muscle in his jaw twitching. He shot Sam a dangerous look but swallowed the sharp retort burning at the back of his throat. Sam had no idea how close to the truth he was coming, and the last thing Bucky wanted was for anyone -especially Y/n- to figure it out.

She caught Sam’s teasing and frowned, her eyes flicking to Bucky. She couldn’t miss how his whole body had gone rigid, like he was just one wrong word away from snapping. The tension radiating off him was palpable. Then it hit her. Considering the way he had been treating her -distant, cold, like she barely existed- the only plausible explanation for Sam’s comments... Was he into Nat?

That thought dug deeper than she expected, a sharp pang in her chest that she couldn’t ignore. She tried to brush it off, but it lingered, nagging at her.

She hesitated, her teeth sinking into her lower lip before she leaned in slightly. Her voice came out low, edged with reluctant empathy. “Don’t mind him,” she muttered, her words meant only for Bucky’s ears. “I’m sure Nat will be fine.”

Bucky’s head snapped to her, surprise flashing in his eyes before it quickly turned to something darker, stormier. She had no idea what was really going on in his head, and the fact that she thought this was about Natasha hit him like a sucker punch to the gut.

“That’s not-” He stopped himself, jaw tightening. There was no point in trying to explain, not here, not now, and certainly not with Sam hanging on every word. He let out a slow breath, his tone gruff when he spoke again, quieter. “Just drop it, okay?”

She blinked, startled by the rawness in his tone. She thought she’d struck a nerve, but clearly not the one she’d expected. Still, after the way he’d treated her recently, she wasn’t about to let him off the hook. If he wanted to be difficult, she could meet him halfway.

“Fine,” she replied coolly. “Not like it’s any of my business, right?” She leaned back, crossing her arms as if to physically distance herself, her eyes focusing on the passing city through the window.

Sam, sensing the tension in the air, raised his eyebrows but -for once- chose not to stir the pot further. He shot a questioning glance at Steve, wordlessly asking, What’s going on here?

Steve caught Sam’s look and responded with a subtle shake of his head, lips pressed into a thin, knowing line. His gaze flicked between Bucky and Y/n, then back to Sam, silently conveying the message: Don’t push it. There was understanding in Steve’s eyes, whatever was going on with Bucky ran deeper than just nerves or irritation. His expression was clear: Give him space.

Finally, the “limo of awkwardness” reached its destination, pulling up to the entrance of the lavish event. The tension inside was palpable, and everyone seemed eager to escape the cramped space. As soon as the doors opened, there was a collective sigh of relief as they stepped out into the open.

Y/n practically bolted out of the car, the cool evening air a welcome contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside. Natasha followed with a smirk, clearly more amused than bothered by the awkward ride. “Bathroom break?” she suggested, raising an eyebrow at Y/n, who nodded gratefully. Together, they made their way toward the entrance, their heels clicking softly on the pavement as they prepared to retouch their makeup and shake off the tension.

Meanwhile, the guys lagged, hanging around the entrance for a moment before stepping into the crowd of finely dressed people. The venue was swarming with posh elites, champagne flutes in hand, chatting in clusters that screamed wealth and sophistication. Bucky stuffed his hands into his pockets, his shoulders stiff as he surveyed the sea of unfamiliar faces, feeling out of place and more than a little on edge.

Sam, ever the social butterfly, immediately started mingling, flashing his charming smile at a passing couple. "Nice place," he muttered to Steve, grabbing a champagne flute from a passing waiter. "Think Tony outdid himself this time?"

Steve gave a small nod, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of trouble, though it was more habit than genuine concern. “Yeah, it’s impressive,” he replied, though his attention drifted toward Bucky, who had slowly gravitated to the edge of the crowd, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Don’t disappear.” Sam called out, clapping him on the shoulder as he joined Steve in surveying the room. His grin was teasing, but light-hearted enough to let the tension from the limo ride dissipate.

Bucky just rolled his eyes, staying quiet but sticking close to the group as they moved into the crowd. He wasn’t in the mood for mingling, but he’d made it this far.

The event officially kicked off with Tony taking the stage, his usual confident grin plastered across his face. He grabbed the microphone and began his speech with his typical charm. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to an evening of generosity, glamour and, let’s be honest, some good old-fashioned fun,” he announced, flashing a playful smirk. “Tonight’s about raising money for a great cause, but it wouldn’t be a true Stark event without a bit of spice, right?” The crowd chuckled, their champagne glasses shimmering under the soft lighting as they eagerly awaited the night’s entertainment.

Meanwhile, Natasha and Y/n emerged from the bathroom, looking radiant and refreshed. As they walked back toward the main hall, Tony’s voice echoed across the room. “And now, for the part you’ve all been waiting for: our very own bachelor auction! The first of the two events we have tonight! Get your wallets out and let’s start bidding, people! Remember, it’s for charity, but hey, you get to take home a prize for the night too,” he said with a wink, his tone playful but persuasive.

The stage lit up, and the male candidates for the auction stepped forward, each one more enthusiastic than the last. Tony, never one to miss a chance to stir up excitement, started hyping them up. “Look at these guys! We've got muscles, brains, and a whole lot of… charisma.” He pointed to one of the bachelors. “Ladies, I hear this one’s an excellent conversationalist... and check out those thighs! Perfect for sitting on, am I right?” The crowd erupted into laughter, but there was already a buzz as bids began flying.

Y/n had been chuckling softly at Tony’s ridiculous commentary when she caught a glimpse of Bucky out of the corner of her eye. Something was off. He was standing rigidly, his jaw set in a hard line, eyes locked onto the stage but distant, as if he wasn’t really there. His face seemed pale, drawn tight in a way that made her stomach twist with concern.

As he stood there, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the stage, a sudden wave of nausea hit him. It started with the sound of Tony's playful words, the laughter in the crowd, and the sight of the men being paraded in front of eager eyes. All of it melded together into something darker, something far too familiar.

Without warning, his mind transported him again back to the past. The dim, suffocating atmosphere of one of the sickening Hydra parties. He could feel the cold bite of chains against his skin, the way they had displayed him like an object, barely clothed, barely human. He had been the prize, the thing to be won, over and over again, with leering eyes and depraved hands deciding his fate. The room around him started to warp, blurring as his vision tunneled. His heart rate spiked, and his breath quickened, chest tightening painfully.

Bucky’s grip on his own arms grew stronger, his metal fingers pressing into the flesh of his opposite arm so hard that he was bruising the enhanced skin. He tried to remind himself where he was, tried to tell himself that this was different. But the flood of memories was relentless, dragging him down into the depths of his trauma.

He could feel it, the sensation of being used, of having no agency. The faces of those who had taken pleasure in his pain flashed before his eyes. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, his body trembling. Sweat prickled along his brow as his surroundings closed in on him, the chatter and laughter of the event fading into a distant, haunting echo.

Suddenly, the present broke through just enough for Bucky to realize he couldn’t breathe. Panic was closing in on him like a vice, squeezing tighter and tighter. The telltale signs of an impending panic attack flared: his heart hammered in his chest, and the room seemed to spin out of control.

He pushed himself off the column. His movements were sharp, almost desperate, as he weaved through the crowd like a wounded animal seeking refuge. His breath was shallow, his steps quickening. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he needed to escape the noise, the eyes, the memories. The room was suffocating, and every second spent in it felt like another piece of his soul was being ripped away. He made a break for the exit, his jaw clenched so tight that his teeth hurt, his mind focused on one thing: getting the fuck out.

Before she could fully register it, she saw him push off the column. His normally composed demeanor was nowhere to be found. Bucky’s face was contorted, his brow furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line, the shallow, rapid rise and fall of his chest gave him away. He was unraveling, right there in front of everyone.

Her own breath hitched as she watched him cut through the crowd with increasing urgency. His retreat was too quick, too desperate, and she felt a sudden, overwhelming tug of alarm shoot through her.

Something was wrong, really wrong.

Without thinking, she stepped away from Natasha, her focus zeroed in on Bucky. Her gaze was locked on the exit he had disappeared through. Her anger faded into the background, replaced by an unshakable need to make sure he was okay. There was something in the way he had bolted, something haunted. She found herself speeding up, her heels clicking loudly against the floor as she headed toward the doors, her eyes scanning the surroundings, hoping she could find him before he disappeared completely. Maybe it was instinct, or maybe it was something else entirely, but she couldn’t let him go through whatever it was alone, not again.

Eventually she pushed through the heavy ballroom doors, leaving the noise of laughter and clinking glasses behind her as she stepped into the quiet night air. The sudden shift in the atmosphere was jarring, the lively event inside faded into a dull hum, barely audible as she found herself standing in a meticulously manicured topiary garden. Tall, artfully shaped hedges loomed around her, casting long shadows under the moonlight, the only light coming from lanterns lining the stone pathway.

Her heels clicked softly as she moved forward, eyes scanning the surroundings. The cool air brushed against her skin, doing little to soothe the knot of anxiety twisting inside her. She couldn't shake the image of Bucky's face from her mind. She quickened her pace, rounding one hedge and then another, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. But the garden stretched on, and after a few minutes of searching, her stomach sank. Was he gone?

She bit her lip, frustration and worry mingling in her chest. She stood still for a moment, closing her eyes to listen, trying to tune in to any sound beyond the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant murmur from the party. Nothing. The garden felt too large, too quiet. She sighed and started retreating inside when movement caught her eye.

Just off to the side, almost hidden beneath the shadow of a thick, overgrown bush, she spotted a dark shape. Her heart stuttered as she stepped closer, the form coming into view. There, huddled in the dirt, his back pressed against the stone wall, was Bucky. He looked utterly wrecked.

His blue suit was smeared with mud formed in the recently watered soil, as though he’d been sitting there for a while. His hair, previously pulled back neatly into a bun, was disheveled, loose strands clinging to his forehead, others tangled and tugged free as if he'd been pulling at it in desperation. His hands were fisted in the damp earth by his sides, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He didn’t move as she approached, didn’t even acknowledge her presence. It was as if he had retreated into himself, hiding in plain sight, blending in with the shadows like he wanted to disappear entirely.

Her breath caught at the sight of him. If there were remnants of her initial anger, they melted away entirely now. What was left in its place was pure concern. She had never seen him like this, so broken, so raw.

“Bucky?” she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she knelt down, hesitating just a foot away. He didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the ground, his breaths still coming in shallow, uneven bursts.

Her heart clenched. He was hiding. Not just physically, but emotionally too. He was retreating into that dark place, she had seen glimpses of it before, but never like this.

“Hey…” she tried again, her tone gentle, trying to reach him through the fog of whatever nightmare was gripping him. “Bucky, it’s me.”

For a moment, nothing. He remained hunched, his knuckles white from where his fists were clenched in the mud. But then, slowly, he blinked, his gaze shifting ever so slightly toward her. The look in his eyes was a mixture of panic and shame, as though he didn’t want her to see him like this.

“I’m fine,” he croaked, though his voice betrayed the lie. He wasn’t fine. He was far from it.

She inched closer, her hand hovering uncertainly, wanting to reach out but unsure if he’d pull away. “You’re not,” she said softly, her eyes locked on his. “You’re not fine, Bucky.”

He swallowed hard, his throat working against the emotion he was trying to keep down. “Just… leave me alone, please,” he muttered, his voice thick with strain, like it took all of his strength to form the words. “I don’t… I can’t-” His breath hitched, and he turned his head away, his body language curling inward even more as if trying to shield himself from her gaze.

Her heart ached. She couldn’t leave him here, sitting in the dirt, drowning in whatever demons had resurfaced tonight.

Without thinking, she reached out, her fingers lightly brushing against his hand. He flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. Encouraged by the slight opening, she gently took his hand in hers, squeezing just enough to ground him.

“I know maybe I’m not the number one person you want to be with right now, but I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered, her voice firm but soft.

Bucky’s breath hitched, his fingers twitching in her grip. He looked down at their joined hands as if struggling to process the kindness in her touch. He didn’t speak, but the tension in his shoulders slowly began to loosen, the rigid line of his back slightly relaxing.

She stayed quiet, giving him the space to come back from whatever dark place his mind had taken him to. The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, it was steady, like the air before a storm breaks. She could feel the weight of his unspoken turmoil pressing down on them both, but she didn’t let go, even when the seconds dragged on.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Bucky let out a ragged breath. His voice, when it came, was low and hoarse. “You shouldn’t have followed me.”

Her lips pressed together. She could hear the self-loathing in his tone, the way he seemed to think he was a burden, something she shouldn’t have to deal with. “I couldn’t just leave you like that,” she said gently. “Not when I knew you were hurting.”

He winced at the word, like it physically pained him to admit that she was right. “You don’t understand,” he muttered, his eyes darting away, staring blankly at the ground.

“I don’t have to,” she countered, her grip on his hand tightening slightly, a quiet reassurance. “You don’t need to explain anything. I just…” She hesitated, then sighed softly. “I just don’t want you to feel like you’re alone. Because you’re not.”

Bucky’s throat worked as he swallowed hard, clearly fighting some internal battle. The vulnerability in his eyes was stark, a raw edge she wasn’t used to seeing in him. “I don’t deserve this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

She frowned. “You don’t get to decide what you deserve, Bucky. Not when you have people who care about you.” Her tone softened as she met his gaze. “And I care about you. So, I’m here. Whether you like it or not.” Without waiting for him to respond, she lowered herself onto the dirt beside him, her dress immediately catching the mud, smearing across the delicate fabric, and her legs. Little branches snagged at her hairdo, but she didn’t care.

Bucky clenched his jaw, her words sinking in deep. He didn’t deserve her -her kindness, her care- after all the terrible things he’d done. How could anyone care for him after what he’d been made to do? But what gnawed at him more was how he’d been with her recently, how he’d pushed her away, knowing his feelings for her were growing too strong to handle. He had been cold, cruel even, thinking it would be easier to keep his distance.

But here she was, not giving up on him. He felt his chest tighten, a tangle of guilt and longing. He didn’t deserve this.

And yet, he couldn’t deny the quiet comfort her presence brought. Slowly, he felt his body ease, his rigid frame relaxing as her warmth seeped into him. His shoulder brushed hers, hesitantly at first, then stayed. This time, he didn’t fight it. He didn’t want to.

The warmth of her body, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, it all felt soothing. He let himself be pulled into the comfort she offered, no longer caring if his attraction to her showed. It wasn’t like he could hide it now, or cared, anyway.

His fingers, rough and scarred, still trembling, brushed against her leg, just a light, accidental touch, but enough to send a shiver up his spine. He wasn’t sure if she noticed, but he did. And this time, he didn’t retreat.

Bucky’s breathing slowed and deepened, his chest rising and falling in sync with hers. His head dipped slightly, not quite resting on her shoulder, but close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her. His fingers shifted again, this time curling just slightly around her thigh. It was a small, almost imperceptible movement, but it felt monumental to him. For once, he wasn’t recoiling, wasn’t hiding behind walls of shame and guilt. He was just… there, with her, feeling what he felt, even if he couldn’t say it out loud.

He glanced up at her again, his blue eyes meeting hers. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t look away. His gaze lingered, searching her face for something, understanding, acceptance, maybe even something more. And what he found there, in her eyes, was enough to make the knot in his chest loosen just a little bit more.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t push him. And in that silence, in the simple act of being there for him, Bucky felt something shift inside him. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

Without thinking, he let out a soft sigh, the sound almost like a release, as his body shifted, and he finally dipped his head to rest it lightly on her thighs. The movement was tentative as if he were bracing for her to pull away, to break the fragile moment. But she didn’t flinch. She didn’t move. She stayed right there, solid and steady, grounding him once again.

When he fully rested his head, her fingers found his hair almost instinctively, gently threading through his disheveled locks. The touch was soft, soothing, and familiar, much like the night before when she had used her healing powers to ease his nightmares. But this time, she didn’t channel any of her energy into him, at least, not yet.

For a few minutes, she simply caressed his hair, her fingertips brushing lightly against his scalp, tracing calming patterns. Bucky’s tense muscles began to relax further, his body sinking into the comfort of her touch. It was grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected.

After a while, her fingers paused in his hair. Her voice was soft, hesitant but caring as she asked, “Do you want me to… like last night?” There was no pressure in her words, only a quiet offer, giving him the choice.

Bucky didn't respond immediately, his head still resting against her thighs, eyes half-closed as he focused on the sensation of her fingers in his hair. The soothing rhythm of her touch was almost enough, but he knew what she meant, what she could do for him if he let her.

Bucky was silent for a long moment, his body still against her, but the tension returned to his shoulders, subtle but unmistakable. He shook his head once, slowly, almost reluctantly. “No,” he whispered, the word hanging in the air between them. “I… I need to feel this,” he added, his voice rough but steady. “I can’t run from it every time.” It was difficult to say, but he meant it. He didn’t want to escape his emotions, didn’t want to numb the pain or bury the overwhelming feelings inside him. He just wanted to exist in it, to sit in this moment with her without any powers or distractions, even if it hurt.

She then let her hand continue to stroke his hair softly, offering comfort in the simplest way possible. She respected his decision, knowing how much strength it took for him to face these demons on his own terms. “I’m still here,” she whispered, her touch never faltering, her presence solid and unshakable. “If you ever need me.”

Bucky didn’t respond with words, but he relaxed against her once again, his body yielding to the quiet, unspoken understanding that settled between them. Even without her powers, the weight of her presence was enough for him to hold on.

Eventually, the quiet that had settled between them started to fade, replaced by the creeping awareness that they couldn’t stay huddled in the garden forever. The world beyond their little bubble -the event, the people, the expectations- slowly edged its way back into their consciousness.

She shifted slightly, her fingers pausing in Bucky’s hair as she glanced around. The faint buzz of the distant crowd could still be heard from the ballroom, and the glow of lights from the mansion cast long shadows across the topiary. It felt like they’d been gone for hours, though in reality, it had probably only been minutes.

“We should… probably get out of here,” she whispered reluctantly, her voice breaking the comforting silence.

Bucky didn’t move right away, still resting against her lap as if he could ignore the world just a little longer. But eventually, he sighed and sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Yeah… we can’t be seen like this,” he muttered, looking down at the mud stains on his ruined suit.

She glanced at herself and winced. “I look like I’ve been rolling around in the dirt with you,” she said with a half-smile, brushing at the mud streaks on her dress to no avail.

The event was long forgotten by both of them, but the problem remained: how could they get back to the compound without looking like they’d crawled out of a swamp? They exchanged looks, silently weighing their options when suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached.

Before they could react, Sam appeared around the corner, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw them. His eyes widened, taking in the sight of both of them covered in dirt, hair wild with sticks on it, and clothes rumpled. He raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms and leaned against the nearby wall, his smirk growing wider by the second. “Well, well, well,” he drawled out, clearly enjoying the scene. “Looks like somebody took ‘blending in’ a little too seriously. What, did you two get lost in a jungle on the way to the bathroom?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Honestly, I don't even wanna know what y’all were up to, but good luck explaining that to the rest of the team.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but Sam held up a hand. “Nope, no explanations needed. You two look guilty enough as it is.” He winked and gestured behind him. “But seriously, you might wanna get out before Steve or Nat see you. Unless you wanna be the talk for the next month in the compound.”

Bucky cursed under his breath, his voice low and filled with frustration, running a hand again through his already messed up hair, making it even worse. Beside him, she winced internally, knowing they looked like a pair of absolute messes.

“Sammy, do you have any ideas for getting us out of here discreetly?” she asked with a groan.

Sam didn’t miss a beat, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Discretion? Yeah… you two sitting in the bushes covered in dirt totally screams discretion.” His grin widened as he glanced between them. “But sure, I can help. Just let me figure out how to sneak out two people who look like they’ve been rolling around in the mud like… well, you know, two horny teenagers.”

Her face went beet red, and she shot a horrified look at Sam. “Sam, this it no-” she started, but his laughter cut her off.

“Oh, c’mon, I’m just messing with you,” Sam said, winking at her. “But seriously, you two really need to work on your subtlety if you’re gonna sneak off for some ‘alone time.’”

If looks could kill, Sam would’ve been obliterated on the spot by Bucky’s death glare. His fists clenched at his sides, and his voice was a dangerous growl. “Shut it, Wilson. Unless you wanna be the next thing that ends up in the bushes.”

Sam just raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. “Alright, alright! Chill, Tin Man. I’m just saying, you gotta work on your cover story for when you walk back in looking like that.”

She wanted to disappear into the ground, her mortification complete. But Sam, as always, had an answer. “Tell you what,” he said, slapping Bucky on the back. “I’ll create a distraction. You two sneak around the back, and I’ll make sure no one’s looking when you head out.” he shook his head, clearly relishing the moment. "But I gotta say, this is one hell of a way to ditch a party," he quipped, waggling his eyebrows mischievously. "mud wrestling?"

She groaned, burying her face in her hands, mortified. Bucky shot Sam a withering glare, muttering another string of curses under his breath.

“Next time, let’s stick to indoor adventures, shall we? He added, flashing a grin. Before either of them could respond, Sam turned on his heel. "I'll think of something," he called over his shoulder, already planning his grand distraction.

The night was still, the distant hum of the city barely audible as Bucky and Y/n walked along the deserted road. The event had been on the outskirts, far enough from the city that they had no choice but to hoof it for a while. Neither of them had spoken since Sam’s grand distraction allowed them to slip out unnoticed, both too absorbed in their own thoughts.

Bucky walked a few steps ahead, hands stuffed in his pockets, his shoulders hunched as if he were trying to make himself smaller.

The silence stretched on, heavy but not uncomfortable. Eventually, she huffed softly, the heels she’d stubbornly kept on finally becoming too much. Without a word, she stopped, bending to slip them off. "God, that’s better," she muttered to herself, dangling the shoes by their straps before picking up the pace again to catch up with Bucky.

His gaze focused on her for a moment, lingering and taking in the sight of her -disheveled, dirty, barefooted-. She was a mess, and the tension in his chest twisted painfully, guilt creeping into his mind again, not only because of how he had treated her but also from what transpired that night.

Without saying a word, he shrugged off his suit jacket and gently placed it around her shoulders. The skimpy dress she wore had been fine for the party but wasn’t doing much to protect her now.

She looked up at him, a flicker of surprise in her eyes, but she didn’t protest. Instead, she accepted the jacket, sliding her arms into the oversized sleeves. The fabric was heavy, enveloping her in warmth, and the sleeves hung so long that only the tips of her fingers peeked out. As she adjusted the jacket on her shoulders, a faint scent of him clung to it, something earthy, mixed with the subtle notes of cedar and leather. It was distinctly Bucky, grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected.

“It’s warm... thanks,” she murmured, her voice quiet but sincere. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but enjoy the comfort of his presence wrapped around her, even if only through the fabric of his jacket.

Bucky kept his gaze straight ahead. After a beat, he broke the silence. “I’m sorry you missed the event because of me,” he said softly, his voice rough around the edges.

Her steps faltered slightly, her fingers tightening around the sleeves as his apology settled over her. She hesitated before speaking, biting her lip as a bitter truth spilled out. “I’m sorry I’m not Natasha.” Bucky’s head whipped toward her, his brow furrowed, and for a moment, his guard slipped. She shook her head, exhaling sharply. “Maybe... I should’ve sent her after you instead of following you myself.”

Bucky's frown deepened. That was the second time she brought up Nat. “Where did you even get that idea?”

She sighed, the weight of her own insecurities pushing her to finally explain. “Because of what Sam said… on the limo. About you being all grumpy because you couldn’t bid in the auction.” She hesitated, her voice wavering slightly. “I thought he meant... you wanted to bid on Natasha.”

Bucky cursed under his breath, his frustration barely contained. “Why the hell would you think that?” he asked, his voice low, almost incredulous.

She quirked a brow, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, a mixture of frustration and vulnerability in her posture. “What else was I supposed to think? You’ve been treating me like the plague, Bucky. Like you couldn’t stand to be around me.” She uncrossed her arms and ran a hand through her hair, exhaling in frustration. “And then when Sam made that joke, it just… it fit, it was obvious he was talking about Nat.” She glanced away, as if admitting it aloud somehow made her feel even smaller.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, a storm brewing behind his eyes as he stepped closer, his voice rough. “That’s not what’s going on. Not even close.”

“Then what is going on?” Her voice wavered as her hand fell to her side.

His hands clenched and unclenched, wrestling with the words he’d buried for so long. Fuck it. "It’s not Natasha," he said finally, his voice rough but clear. "It’s you. It’s always been you."

She blinked, caught off guard. “Me?” The word came out barely above a whisper, soft and disbelieving. Her heart raced, pounding so loud she was sure he heard it.

Bucky’s gaze held hers, raw and unguarded, his jaw tight as if saying the words had cost him more than he wanted to admit. "Yeah, you," he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair in frustration. "Why do you think I’ve been avoiding you? I… I didn’t know how to deal with it."

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out at first, her heart still pounding as she tried to find her voice. “Honestly? From where I’m standing, I kind of thought you couldn’t stand me with the way you’ve been acting.” Then, deciding she’d had enough of this back-and-forth, she gathered her courage. "Would it help," she began, her tone softer, more vulnerable, "if I told you I’m into you too?"

Bucky froze, his breath catching as her words hung in the air between them. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. His eyes flickered with a mix of emotions; hope, fear, something close to desperation.

“I...” He dragged a hand over his face, frustration roughening his voice. “I don’t know how to answer that.” He paused, his gaze dropping to the ground before slowly lifting back to meet hers. “Part of me wants to tell you that’s what I’ve wanted to hear... for so damn long. But the other part...” His fists clenched at his sides, tension rolling off him. “I’ve got so much... so much shit I haven’t even begun to unpack. And I don’t wanna drag you into it. I’m damaged goods, you deserve better than I can give. Shit, probably the only thing I can do right now is take.

She stayed quiet for a moment, watching him wrestle with his emotions. Then she shook her head, her voice steady but soft. “I’m a grown woman, Bucky. I’m very capable of making my own decisions. And I’ve decided... I want to give this a try, if you are ok with that.”

Bucky’s expression shifted as he stared at her, the war inside him playing out behind his eyes. “I don’t know how to do this.” he said softly, his words laced with apprehension. He looked at her, his heart pounding, torn between fear and longing. His dirty hand hovered between them, hesitant, but when she reached out and took it, the tension in his chest eased. “I can’t promise I’ll be easy to deal with,” he added, his voice barely audible.

“I’m not asking for easy,” she replied, squeezing his hand gently. “I’m asking for you.”

Bucky stared at her, her words sinking in, and something shifted in his chest. He felt the weight of all his fears and doubts, but her touch, her steady presence, made it seem lighter somehow, like maybe he wasn’t as broken as he thought. Slowly, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and for the first time in what felt like forever, it reached his eyes, softening the lines of exhaustion and pain that usually darkened his features. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice a little steadier now, though still laced with disbelief. He stepped closer, narrowing the gap between them, his eyes locked on hers. Her hand was still in his, grounding him, and suddenly, without thinking -no more doubts, no more hesitation- he decided to man up.

In one swift, unguarded moment, he leaned in. His free hand cupped the side of her face, calloused fingers brushing her cheek as he tilted her chin up. He paused just a heartbeat, his breath mingling with hers, before closing the distance. His lips found hers, soft but insistent, a kiss that spoke of everything he’d been too afraid to say. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was something deeper, something that tasted of hope, of taking a chance.

When they finally parted, Bucky’s forehead came to rest gently against hers, their breaths still mingling in the cool night air. Neither of them spoke, the silence more comforting than any words could be in that moment. His thumb absentmindedly brushed her cheek, as if grounding himself in her presence.

For a while, they just stood there, forehead to forehead, until Bucky felt her body tremble slightly against him. He frowned, realizing that despite his jacket draped over her shoulders, they were still out on a desolate road in the middle of the night, and she was dressed for a gala, not a walk through the cold. “You’re freezing,” he muttered, glancing down at her bare feet and legs showing under the hem of his suit.

“Nah, I’m fine,” she started, but her teeth chattered slightly, betraying her words.

Bucky raised a brow, unconvinced. “Come on, climb on my back,” he said, turning around and squatting slightly as if to make it easier for her.

“What?” she blinked, shaking her head. “No way, I can walk.”

He shot her an exasperated look. “I’m not asking. It’s cold, and you’re barefoot. Besides,” he added with a teasing smirk, “I could probably run five miles with you on my back without breaking a sweat.”

She let out a reluctant laugh, still feeling self-conscious. “I don’t know, Bucky…”

“Seriously? I can bench-press a car, and you’re worried about a piggyback ride?” His grin widened, confidence oozing from his voice. “Come on, let me show off a little, after all the crap I put you through."

She hesitated but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay, fine,” she sighed, giving in. “But if you drop me…”

“I won’t,” he cut in with a grin, glancing back at her over his shoulder. “Scout’s honor.”

With a roll of her eyes, she finally climbed onto his back, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as his hands gripped her legs effortlessly. His warmth surrounded her instantly, and as she rested her chin on his shoulder, she felt her tension slowly melt away. Then a thought hit her, and she glanced down at her muddy legs. “Your shirt…” she muttered, a little hesitant. “It’s going to be a mess.”

Bucky didn’t even slow down, his grip steady and sure. He let out a low chuckle, his voice a deep rumble she felt against his back. “You think I care about the shirt?” He glanced over his shoulder, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Your thighs are around my waist. Pretty sure I’ve got more important things to think about.”

She couldn’t help but blush at his cheeky remark, and hid her face on his nape. His steady pace, the warmth radiating from his body, and the rhythmic sound of his shoes hitting the pavement soothed her.

As they walked, Bucky’s steps slowed, his gaze fixed on the path ahead, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. “You really sure about this?” he asked softly, his voice quieter than usual. “Sitting in the mud with me while I’m falling apart… that’s not the kind of life I want for you. Hell, that’s not the kind of life I want for anyone.”

She rested her chin on his shoulder again, her arms tightening slightly around him. “I stood with you in the mud because I wanted to. No one forced me. And if that’s part of being with you, then I’ll deal with it. I’m not afraid of your mess.”

Bucky stayed silent for a moment, letting her words sink in. His heart clenched, torn between the comfort of her closeness and the nagging doubt that never fully left him. “You say that now,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s not always gonna be just mud. There’s… stuff I don’t even know how to talk about.”

She tightened her arms around him, her lips brushing against his ear. “Then don’t talk about it yet,” she replied softly. “Just... let me be here. Let me decide what I can handle.”

Bucky’s throat tightened. The weight of her words felt both heavy and freeing, a strange contradiction he wasn’t sure how to process. “I’ve spent so long trying to push people away,” he admitted, his voice rough. “I don’t even know how to let someone in anymore.”

Her lips curved into a small, soft smile against his neck. “Good thing you’ve got time to figure it out, Buck. I’m not in a hurry.”

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

[med-fetish]

Hello! Today I started playing with AI, this is what I came up with, I hope you enjoy it !

Isabelle was 26 years old when her life took an unexpected turn. Since childhood, she had always been an active and energetic woman. She loved running in the park, practicing yoga, and spending hours exploring the city with her friends. But everything changed one summer day when she began to feel a persistent pain in her right side. At first, she thought it was just a muscle strain, a consequence of her busy schedule and long hours at the gym.

However, the pain did not go away. After several medical consultations and tests, she received a devastating diagnosis: kidney cancer. The news hit her with overwhelming force. The idea of facing such a serious illness at her age was terrifying. Despite the tears and anguish, Isabelle gathered her courage and prepared for what lay ahead. She knew she had to undergo surgery to remove the affected kidney.

On the day of the operation, Isabelle arrived at the hospital with a mix of nerves and hope. She was greeted by a medical team that reassured her and prepared her for the procedure. In a private cubicle, she changed into a surgical gown, feeling the cold fabric against her skin. Clara, a kind nurse, placed a hair cap on her head and explained the importance of the compression stockings, which were put on her to aid circulation during the surgery. Despite her discomfort, Isabelle felt a bit more at ease.

When it was time for anesthesia, Dr. Martínez placed an intravenous line and explained that she would feel a little dizzy. As the medication took effect, Isabelle felt the world slowly fade away, leaving behind her worries. However, what no one expected was that the surgery would become complicated.

Hours passed, and the medical team realized that something was wrong. As the operation dragged on, a growing fear filled the operating room. Suddenly, alarms began to sound. Isabelle had gone into cardiac arrest. “She’s going into arrest!” shouted a nurse. In an instant, the room became a whirlwind of activity.

Dr. López, the lead surgeon, moved quickly, directing the team with precision. Dr. Martínez adjusted the anesthesia and administered emergency medications. Every second counted as the team fought to stabilize her. After several attempts, they finally managed to restore her pulse. The operating room, once filled with tension, was flooded with a sigh of relief.

With Isabelle’s heart beating again, the team continued the surgery, this time with renewed determination. Finally, after hours of hard work, Dr. López announced that they had finished. Isabelle was transferred to the recovery room, where she began to awaken. Her body felt heavy and confused, but the sound of the monitors reminded her that she had overcome a great battle.

As she regained consciousness, she found herself in a calm silence. When she opened her eyes, she saw a nurse approaching, who explained what had happened and assured her that she was okay. Over time, Isabelle began to understand what she had experienced. Although she had faced an overwhelming challenge, she had come through it.

Her recovery was a gradual process. With each passing day, her strength returned, along with her determination to live fully. She joined support groups, shared her experience on social media, and became a health advocate. Her story resonated with others facing similar situations, inspiring them to keep fighting.

A year after the surgery, Isabelle signed up for a charity 5K run, a goal she had set for herself before her diagnosis. On the morning of the race, she felt a mix of emotions. As she ran, each step reminded her of her struggle and the life she had regained. Crossing the finish line brought tears to her eyes, but this time they were tears of joy and gratitude. She had faced her fear and emerged victorious.

Isabelle had not only survived an illness; she had learned to live again, with a new perspective and a deep appreciation for each day. Her story became a testament to resilience, reminding others that even in the darkest moments, there is always a light at the end of the tunnel.

[lunarw0rks]

HEYYY just wondering if I can do a request of an experimented reader? (They can be any animal or anything)

❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Patient 001 // 141 Mini Drabbles

Warning(s): FailedExperiment!reader, gn!reader, medical procedures, drugging mention, kidnapping, blood, injury, death, animal testing mention, angst, hurt/comfort, no use of y/n Word Count: 2.6k ꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX ˎˊ˗

A/N: I hope this isn't too dark for what the anon requested. If it is, I apologize. I've been interested in this plot line for a bit, and wanted to write something for it!

SYNOPSIS; You're a failed scientific experiment. Once a civilian, now a half-human that had gone through hell. Your other half, now a mutated creature.

To no longer be human would be a blessing. But that part of you stayed, partially. Still terrorized from the experiments, the tests, the documentation of your transformation.

Then came the day you were found.

MISSION BRIEFING; Their orders were simple.

Evacuate innocent technicians — and most importantly — find the location of the catastrophic chemical component, before it ends up in the wrong hands.

What was behind the doors, they'd certainly never forget.

Ghost

His rifle remained raised in front of him as he swept each room. It was obvious the enemy knew they were coming. All he'd found so far were empty sterile spaces, understimulating exam rooms, or numbing cubicles filled to the brim with charts.

Until he heard it.

A sickening screech, like that of a person possessed by a demon. Echoing off the tile walls, much too loud for the lung capacity of a human - and in deep anguish.

Simon's heart stopped when he pushed through the double doors, seeing a huddled figure left behind bars. Not a scientist left behind. Not a prisoner of war. Something.

The glow of your eyes reflected off the blinding white fluorescents, irises matching that of crimson. Your flesh, once human-like, is now sunken and riddled with healed slashes. Most of them self-inflicted, from when you thrashed against your restraints.

When you saw the figure, looming and dormant, it reminded you of the scientists that spent hours observing your changes. How you shrieked when touched when something as small as a pin dropped. Every noise was heightened, making your ears ring painfully. Your hearing could track the sound of potential prey for miles. And your tender skin? Only soothed when you weren't lucid enough to remember the pokes and prods.

Every week, it was a new serum, a new component. Something they would give you to study its effects on your body. Whatever you were, it was a mystery. All you did know was that you craved the metallic taste of blood.

Similar to that of a hungry hound, or that of urban legends that hunt unsuspecting hikers. But you weren't cruel. You weren't a cold-blooded beast that wanted to rip their throats out. That's what kept you around so long.

Your empathy never subsided, like it was supposed to. Your feedings were only that of animal blood or the human samples they gave you in the hope that it would progress the experiment. It never did. It only left you in that cell longer; fearsome and isolated.

"Christ..." Simon muttered to himself, eyes wide. The figure approached the enclosure, his rifle lowered when he observed your fear. He wasn't holding a syringe, not a clipboard, not a video camera, not even a vile of blood for you to choke down. Your vermillion gaze inspected the man with uncertainty, who looked like that of a soldier.

Your fatigued limps crawled across the scuffed cement until you could use the bars to find your feet. Something you couldn't do when the scientists were monitoring you. After so long huddled on the ground or writhing on the cot, it was a relief, if that was possible anymore.

Despite his best judgment, his fingers reached through the bars until they found your fingers. "I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered, his British rasp ringing through your overly-sensitive ears. For the first time in months, you touched the warm flesh of a human hand, not an unempathetic gloved one.

It was a natural reaction to flinch; that primal side of you overshadowing the human one. But you still had the ability to find genuine empathy in his amber eyes. Your hand wrapped tightly around his through the gap in the bars, savoring the once-deprived human contact. "Do you remember your name?"

Price

Price took the riskiest route; the one he wouldn't dare send his team into head-first. The pathway that took him through each of the hidden laboratories — the one only countless hours of digging for intel made him aware of.

It was more chilling than he foresaw.

Rows of exam rooms, shelves of unknown components, countless cages of small animals. All that is expected in a covert scientific compound.

That is... until he stumbled upon a sealed room different from the others. One that could only be inhabited by a human being. He stared in each direction of the hallway, finding a keycard left on one of the bodies.

It was his duty to clear every room, no matter how disturbing the contents would be. Behind the plate glass room that resembled that of an enclosure. A small table and two chairs, a video camera, and most shockingly — the trembling figure in restraints on a thin foam mattress. One who has clearly been poked and prodded for months straight, littered with scars and an almost inhuman appearance.

The man approaching you wasn't a threat, but that didn't stop your body's natural reaction to hide. After months of enduring tests and experiments, being monitored like some sort of creature — it was hard to trust anyone. "My God... What have they done to you?" Price murmured as he approached the cot, fingers finding each tube and removing them one by one.

His expression was one of pity and disgust as his mind imagined all the awful things they put you and your body through. Countless months of research and injecting new components into you clearly didn't turn you into some monster.

You were frightened and in agony — still human underneath it all.

"Can you move your fingers for me? Your legs?" He asked softly, bent down next to your bed. Your shaky fingers finally gained some movement, after he had cut off the constant drip of sedatives. Next, you hesitantly untucked your legs, feeling your bare feet touch the icy tile for the first time in months. It was like learning how to walk all over again, except now you weren't the same you.

Your senses were heightened — smell, eyesight, hearing, and most of all touch. His palm found the small of your back as he led you to the door of your cell, using the keycard he swiped to unlock it from the inside.

As he led you through the corridors, he grabbed a spare lab coat off one of the racks, placing it over your shivering shoulders. No scrubs, no sweats, only a loose white gown. If he wasn't so focused on keeping his eyes peeled for hostiles, he would've given you his own jacket. The entire building had to be kept cool and they hadn't bothered to give you something warmer to wear.

He spoke into his radio, alerting the rest of his team as they combed through the rest of the compound. Right now, his priority was making sure you ended up somewhere safe tonight. "You're safe now, alright? Nobody will put their hands on you again."

Not a place with sterile white walls, a bed to sleep in with more than a thin foam pad, a place where your every move wasn't monitored. A place where the human part of you could feel safe again.

Soap

The power to the compound was cut off when Soap's team breached the tight security system. It was a faulty system — unlocking all the electronically sealed doors instead of the opposite. And the lights, instead of a blinding white, were dim and flickered repeatedly. Most likely the emergency ones.

Enough light to guide you through the corridors, but not enough for his trained eyes to be entirely sure of no threats.

He was using his instincts, his sensory training; all he had to rely on as he crept through the halls. Eerily silent halls. The only sound is the hum of all the technology littering this place and his boots hitting the smooth tile.

Eventually, he found one of the testing rooms; a place that is bound to have some chemical components stored.

Through the glass viewing window, he could see that this space was heavily used. Video cameras, viewing chairs, viles and IV bags stored on refrigerators shelves. Most chilling - the chair with restraints. The one you’d been bound to so many times, poked and prodded by medical tools.

The longer it went on, you felt it more. You weren’t lucky enough to go numb to the pain. It had the opposite effect. Every ache, every stab, every head-splitting migraine.

Soap’s brows knitted together in focus as he maintained his stealth, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of actionable intel. Though this room was dimmer than the rest, with emergency lights even more faulty than the ones in the rest of the building. He had to squint to clear the space in front of him, which hindered the rest of his senses.

Perhaps that's the reason he didn't hear the enemy behind him, or why he got a few stabs into Johnny's abdomen before he managed to fight him off. He slumped against the wall of the lab, comms jammed and unintelligible. Soap had convinced himself this was it, the moment he began seeing double from blood loss.

This was your long-awaited opportunity to escape - the electronic lock on your room failed when the compound was breached. You glided down the corridors, eyes trained ahead of you. What would the world out there be like? Would you ever have a semi-normal life again? This wasn't something you just move on from.

A sharp pain in your abdomen made you wince. But it wasn't pain from a true injury; it was a phantom ache. Someone nearby was hurt — someone deserving of your help.

It was a heavy debate; make your escape now, leave the maimed individual to fend for themselves. But your empathy outweighed your selfishness. The faint distressed prayers got louder as you crept inside one of the testing rooms.

The figure, one of a soldier, clutching his stomach in the same spot you had just felt the pain. Soap's eyes could barely adjust to the person approaching him, only managing a mumble. From his perspective, it must've been terrifying. A gowned, sickly patient with shaky hands outstretched to him.

He made his best attempt to fight you — which wasn't much of a fight at all. You lifted the crimson-soaked tee, wincing as the phantom pain kicked into high gear. The closer you got to a person in pain, the more intensity there was. It was time to use your new abilities by choice. Not one of the scientist's papercuts, not a wound they intentionally inflicted on a lab animal.

Your hands hovered over his inflamed stab wounds, teeth gritted in focus as you knelt next to him. One moment, Soap was delirious from blood loss, sputtering out incomprehensible phrases. The next, the searing in his abdomen reduced to a mild ache.

Then a tickle. And then nothing except the warmth radiating off your fingertips. The stab wounds faded from his flesh right before his eyes.

You had taken away his pain; somehow, in some way.

For a moment, he imagined this was heaven. An angel of mercy escorting him to the high place, though he was always convinced he'd end up in the fiery one. When not blinded by pain, he could finally muster the ability to speak again. "Who are you?" He wanted to ask what you were, but the empathy bleeding from your eyes pulled at his heartstrings. Those eyes; cloudy on the irises. And your sickly features, now filled with more life after healing him.

You were much too drained to answer. It was your first time saving a human in such a critical condition. Healing drained every ounce of energy from you. Before you could answer, he rose to his feet, wrapping one of the stray quilts around your trembling shoulders. "Ye saved my life, it's the least I can do."

Gaz

The raid was by no means straightforward. Nonetheless, it was strange to Gaz how few intel pieces he found. A few files he skimmed, some compelling blueprints — but nothing actionable. Once again, the rules of engagement prevented him from pushing the bounds of the code he followed. Another catastrophe is around the corner with an aloof public, yet there's nothing he can do but follow orders.

But there was more to this facility than met his eyes. Kyle knew it, and his instinct was rarely wrong.

There was a rattle on one of the lower levels, like that of a chair scraping against the floor. A faint scream. Then silence. No gunshots, no explosions, no enemies making callouts, not even his comms alerting him to check that level. It was obvious he was the only one who heard it.

He kept his sidearm raised ahead of him, eyes dancing around the motionless halls of the place. Whatever it was, he was going to find it; with or without following orders. "Anybody down here?" Gaz's own voice echoed off the walls. Still, no sound followed, not while he crept down the flight of stairs. Down the hall, he swept every room, finding nothing and no one once again.

Get out of there, Garrick. There's nothing here.

Price's comm almost swayed him — almost made his shaking hand that was hovering over the last door knob lower. Then he heard another clatter inside the room, one he couldn't ignore, despite his Captain's firm orders to evac.

He could take a serious hit for this, he knew that.

It wouldn't be his first time pushing the limits. Every time he did, he saved someone or something. If he didn't do that this time; he wasn't sure he could handle that weighing on his conscience.

It wasn't an enemy, he would've attacked the Sergeant's weak points by now. Kyle opened the door labeled Observation — his last hope of making this treacherous move worth it. Another shuffle sounded from inside. "If you're in here, show yourself!" The door creaked open as his sidearm remained at the ready, though it quickly dropped to his side when he caught a glimpse of the gruesome scene.

You curled into a ball and let out gasps and whimpers. Around you, a blood trail led up to the body of one of the technicians. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision; you heard the shots, and his hands were on you. You acted on mere impulse, which seemed to be more common after all the experimentations.

Gaz felt like he had dry-swallowed a big pill. You weren't a hostile, not even a scientist. You were some form of maltreated lab rat — one that had finally snapped and didn't know what to do with themselves.

You raised your head from your hands, showing him your face wrinkled with both fright and shock. An obvious adrenaline high, from what he was seeing. Kyle held out a hand, holstering his weapon as he approached slowly. "I'm here to help, alright?" He spoke cautiously, kneeling beside you to meet your crouched level. His hand found your forearm, tracing a hand over the number tattooed on your skin.

The thought was sickening — a human being meddled with, imprisoned in this place for testing. His instincts were proven right again, yet another person he could still save. It was tempting to act on that instinct again, to put up your walls. But this soldier was your last chance at freedom, and whatever half-normal life you might be able to salvage after all this.

His hands found your waist next, guiding you to a standing position. "You stay behind me and you'll get out of here. I promise you." Kyle spoke to you softly, before leading the way out of there. You'd never seen the outside of the observation room, not once in all the time you had been kept there.

He allowed you to cling to him as he retraced his steps, ascending the staircase. Gaz had saved you — point blank. Any longer, and you would've been an abandoned trial by the scientists, or wrongfully executed during the siege.

No amount of paperwork would make this choice any less worth it.

[tiddygame]

i’ve stared at this for so long that i now hate it and think ive lost all concept of how to write so take this and get it out of my google docs

the introduction is rough and the medical depictions (and accuracy/realism) could use some (a lot of) work but whatever! here it is, my vague yet still oddly specific idea of how the face reveal would go in @myriadblvck ’s streamer au:

tw: description of a panic attack? i think?

[this takes place post first irl meet but before they’re officially together]

imagine ghost has a glasgow smile but on one side they carved a little too deep and left some nerve damage. time and surgery helped, after which he could eat unimpeded and talk without a lisp, but there's still some facial nerve damage and/or skin contractures from scarring, specifically around the corner of his mouth.

now, everytime he smiles, be it shit eating grin or a full genuine joy filled smile that not even grumpy mcgrumperson could hold off, it always looks wrong because one corner doesn't raise fully like the other.

everything else is fine, there isn’t any facial paralysis, he just smiles… wrong. especially since only one eye properly squints when he smiles, giving him the look of someone who got stuck mid wink.

if he wants to look “normal” (or as normal as he could get it) he has to manually squint his other eye. still, it always felt weird; you don't realize how much those muscles affect the rest of your face until they're gone.

it's why he learned to always wear the mask.

when his expression is neutral, you don’t really notice it. if you can see his mouth when he talks however, it’s obvious that there’s something wrong. he wouldn’t say he’s necessarily ashamed of the scars and damage itself, but it’s the stares that are the worst. before he started hiding behind it, people would openly gawk or even glare at him as if he was some ne’er-do-well gang member that got what was coming to him.

he still remembers the cosmetic surgeon that had been talking to him about fixing the contractures— the whole appointment was a fucking nightmare. the cuts had healed nicely enough especially considering how bad it could have been; he was lucky to only need a little cosmetic help. the only reason he was there was so he could fucking eat food without struggling to open his mouth.

the doctor spent god knows how long breaking down everything wrong with his face like he was a fucking car mechanic lying about how dirty your filter is. the guy constantly mentioned that while he was under, they could also fix his jawline, do a rhinoplasty, trying to break him down to agree to more work.

he was already fuming my the time the doc brought up how kids would react. asking ghost if he wanted to scare children since “you cant expect the little youngins that are still learning about the world to not get scared by something scary,” and that “even some adults would cringe at the scarring.”

what stuck out most was the condescending smile he had when he said it. as if he was pointing out the obvious and ghost was being stupid and shortsighted by not agreeing.

he declined everything except what was medically necessary. the procedure went fine and after an aggravatingly long recovery period, he could eat solid foods again without issue. but the comments still stuck with him.

…okay, maybe he’s a little ashamed.

scaring kids with your face doesn’t feel good and being reminded of everything you’ve lost when you try to smile can really fuck you up in a way words fail to describe.

so yeah, he hates it. he’s gotten used to the mask, both skull clad balaclava and simple medical mask, being a permanent layer of armor. even now that he’s a bit more comfortable in his own skin it still feels wrong to pull it off.

when he gets close to soap, it still feels like a layer of vulnerability that he’ll never be prepared for.

the first time he let soap see his face, there hadn’t been any grandiose build up, no extravagant planning.

simon had arrived just a few hours earlier. he hated commercial flights with a burning passion but it was always worth it to see johnny.

with soaps twin out of town for the week, he had decided to take leave to spend time with his friend, a friend that he most certainly did NOT have a crush on (a disclaimer roach and gaz heard everytime they started snickering over ghost taking leave.)

johnny had cooked something nice and simple for dinner, saying that simon had spent too long with MREs and deserved real food (ghost only agreed if he was the one washing the dishes, soap had laughed and told him he's not so kind as to let him off the hook for chores).

when they ate, it was always in the living room with johnny taking care to always stay angled away from simon, never trying to catch a glimpse, regardless of how much he wanted to see what was under the mask. the obvious gesture of kindness and respect for his boundaries always left him feeling all weird and fuzzy inside. but, then again, johnny seemed pretty good at triggering that feeling in general.

their finished plates were on the coffee table and johnny was watching whatever dumb movie he had put on. he was pretty sure the man spent more time talking over it and making fun of everything than he did actually watching it (it was simon’s favorite way to watch a movie.)

ghost however, was watching soap. thinking.

in the end, it was an impulsive decision made after a strong three seconds of consideration.

“you uhm— you can look by the way,” ghost stared at the can of soda in his hands, immediately regretting the words.

“what?” soap didn’t fully turn, just shifted slightly to hear him better. a simple gesture to show he was listening without turning to face him. it normally made simon happy to see that johnny was more than willing to accommodate for his boundaries. now though it made him feel stupid for robbing johnny of a normal face to face conversation, a normal human interaction, just over his idiotic insecurities.

“my face, you—,” he felt his heart block his airway and tried clearing his throat before continuing, “you can look if you want,” christ he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. why was he getting so fucked up over this?

“are you sure?” he hadn’t turned yet, but ghost could see his pensive expression from here. this should be nothing. realistically, he knew johnny seeing his scars wouldn’t suddenly make him hate him… right?

“yes.”

but it was more than the fear of hatred, wasn’t it? he was scared that johnny would see him. see more than just the scars, see all of the ugly idiosyncrasies and insecurities laid bare. afraid that johnny would see the truth of how unlovable he was.

jesus he was getting so fucking worked up and dramatic over nothing.

ghost didn’t look up. he made an effort to not focus on his peripheral vision. he heard soap turn, heard the intake of breath. the silence was loud only for a second. then, deafening white noise surrounded him, inescapable, suffocating.

fuck.

he didn’t regret giving permission but god did he regret everything else; the stupid scars, the stupid nerve damage, the stupid way he had managed to fall for someone so fucking good like johnny while he was unequivocally unworthy of his love.

stop being so fucking dramatic. you are not together, never have been and never will be. reality was blatant in front of him but it didn’t stop his heart from foolishly hoping.

he heard soap stand and walk closer. saw from where he was still staring a hole in the can his feet step in front of his. saw johnny’s hands raise. he took a deep breath in, closed his eyes, and with a great deal of effort didn’t flinch when soaps fingers grazed his cheek.

both of his hands came up to cup his face, holding him and ever so slightly tilting his face up, giving him the chance to pull away. he didn’t. he may be a coward but he wasn’t backing down.

ghost eventually opened his eyes to see soap staring at him with wide eyes. he looked away, staring off to some point on the right. he hated not knowing what soap was thinking.

they stayed there for a while before soap broke the silence, muttering, “i fuckin knew you had freckles.”

it was stupid but it shocked a laugh out of ghost. he meant to drop his head, embarrassed that something so dumb made him laugh, but accidentally just pushed himself further into soaps hands making him blush.

he looked up and saw soap staring even harder than before. the chuckle died in his chest.

“do that again.”

ghost just gave him a confused look.

“smile.”

such a simple request, a one word sentence, but it set his face ablaze. his breath caught in his throat, somewhere around where his heart was still trying to choke him.

…he hadn’t thought it was that bad but soaps reaction indicated otherwise. fuck. was his it that awful? he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. this was stupid. he was stupid.

“simon,” of course, one word from johnny and it felt like he could breathe again.

“please?”

fucking goddamn soap and his stupid fucking puppy dog eyes and the way he has ghost wrapped around his fucking finger without even realizing.

ghost smiled. there was no real mirth, more a grimace than anything else. he just wanted to get this over with.

soap was still staring at him, his thumbs tracing his lips, following scars, drawing imaginary lines between freckles… if he wasn't so terrified it might have felt nice.

“Christ,” ghosts heart cracked more, “you weren't lying when you said you were beautiful.”

ghost huffed a laugh and went back to staring off to the right, the fake smile dropping. of course soap would try to lighten the mood with a joke.

his panic fled as quickly as it had consumed him, now just left sitting in soap's living room, face still cradled in caring hands, resigned to his mistakes.

he felt so tired and johnny's hands felt so inviting.

“i wasn't joking,” soap looked…upset? angry? wait— fuck, what’d he do?

ghost stared back at soap, confused and tired. soaps nails felt the grooves of the scar, catching where the skin was raised and lowered.

“you don't have to lie, soap. im a grown man. I'm not fragile. you don't need to coddle me,” ghost said it like it was a joke, hoping soap would laugh along and that this would all just blow over. that tomorrow morning they could forget this ever happened.

“are you calling me a liar?” soap’s brow furrowed. great. instead, he had managed to make everything worse and piss off soap as well.

ghost took in a deep breath, giving himself another shot at calming things down, “no, I'm not. I think you're lying, but you're not a liar,” he stood and stepped to the side, grabbing their dirty plates and walking them to the kitchen sink, “you just don't want to upset me, it's fine. I get it. you're a nice person but you don't have to lie to spare my feelings.”

“I am not fucking lying!” as per usual, all ghost had managed to do was make things worse. there’s a reason he had decided to stick to the battlefield and give up on domesticity.

“well alright then. agree to disagree,” he turned the kitchen tap and started rinsing the dishes, waiting for the water to heat up. just walk away. end it there. let us forget about this stupid blunder and move on. please just leave it. please, please, please—

“no.”

the force behind it damn near made ghost drop the plate he was holding. he managed to set it in the sink carefully and turned to face soap, who was now in the kitchen as well.

“i— I'm not just gonna fucking— simon,” soap took in a deeper breath and went to continue but ghost was faster.

“johnny,” he interrupted, walking forward with his hands up in a gesture of surrender, approaching slowly.

one last chance to not fuck everything up.

“the fact is they're called deformities for a reason. they're not cute. they're not pretty. they're your body’s way of healing what it can and protecting what it can't. it's not meant to look nice, it's just—”

“bullshit they’re not pretty! says fucking who?” the genuine distress in soap’s voice and force behind his words caught him off guard. “simon—”

he huffed and ran his fingers through his hair roughly, pulling slightly at the strands. christ, ghost needs to shut the fuck up. every single time he speaks he just upsets soap more and more.

he needs to retake his hostage negotiations courses. clearly he has forgotten everything about how to diffuse a situation.

johnny takes another second to breathe and collect his thoughts before he speaks.

“simon. I know that— that ‘this’ isn't something that's going to fix itself overnight and I don't expect it to. but, ‘the fact is,’ I think you're pretty.”

ghost opens his mouth to disagree but johnny doesn’t let him.

“no no,” johnny put his hand over simon’s mouth, shocking him into silence. he blinks twice, stupefied.

“i think— no. I know you're pretty. cute even. beautiful is a given but obviously worth mentioning.”

his hand moved to cup simon’s cheek. ghost grabbed his wrist but didn’t stop him, wether it was a warning or encouragement he himself didn’t know.

johnny continued, unperturbed, “you disagreeing doesn't change that, right?”

there was a pause and simon realized he wanted an answer.

“johnny-”

“ah ah!” his hand moved back to cover his mouth, grabbing his face and shaking his head back and forth, over accentuating his words, “you disagreeing doesn't change that, right? yes or no.”

he stopped shaking him and moved his hand back to simon’s cheek. simon sighed, defeated, “yes. you are right.”

johnny looked smug, “good. and what do you say when i give you a compliment you don’t agree with?”

simon sputtered, “wha— i don't fucking know—”

“nothing! you don’t say anything!” soap looked way too proud of himself and he continued, “or thank you if you feel so inclined.”

“that was a trick question,” simon replied eventually.

johnny thumbed over his scars once more, again tracing them, “sure it was. now go take a shower.”

he patted his cheek twice and walked to the hallway.

“wait,” johnny probably shook the few remaining brain cells out of his head. “this whole conversation ends with you telling me that I stink?”

“yes. rancid,” johnny opened the door to the linen closet. simon was still in the kitchen. the tap was still running.

“no dipshit, do you not remember telling me that commercial planes makes you feel gross?” johnny threw a towel at him, which he caught just in time for johnny to hit him with a bath rag.

ghost had mentioned that… ages ago, he thinks. on facetime with each other, discussing the merits of bathrooms on public transport. he had said that enclosed, crowded spaces like commercial planes or buses made him feel, well, gross. how—or why—did he remember that?

“but… I’m supposed to wash the dishes?” a weak argument against the stubbornness he was faced with but simon had officially lost track of his mind and this conversation.

johnny shot him a weird look as he walked back towards the kitchen sink. simon still hadn’t moved.

“did you think i was being serious earlier?”

“yes???” he felt like he had been given a lobotomy.

johnny decided to take pity on him and explained in a soft voice that felt out of place, “i was being sarcastic. i’m not going to make you wash the dishes, simon.”

“but that was the agreement: you cook and i wash the dishes.”

johnny laughed as if he remembered something funny, “yeah, i lied.”

simon still stood there, trying to figure out if he had a stroke. johnny had been angry, completely pissed at him, but now was letting him off the hook and calling him pretty? what the fuck is happening?

johnny turned him and pushed him towards the hallway. simon could have resisted but his resolve always seems to crumble around johnny mactavish.

“now go shower, you beautiful bastard,” soap grabbed one of the plates out of the sink and started washing it with water that had probably heated ages ago.

ghost walked towards the bathroom, feeling like he was on autopilot, limbs disconnected from his brain. his cheek still felt… odd? weird? tingly?

it felt something from where johnny had grabbed it. ghost thinks… he thinks he likes the feeling, whatever it is.

he needs to sleep.

[psychokatrixxxy]

So I just had a small realization.

TW: Very rough description of autopsy procedures and handling of a corpse.

I haven't done much research so I could be getting somethings wrong, so if you are a medical examiner/mortician and you want to correct something, go ahead, I'd be up to learn more about autopsies just for curiosity sake.

So we all know when Jason came back to life he crawled out of his grave, which is already a horrible. But something I only just thought about is how, when he first came back in that coffin, he wouldn't be able to open his eyes or mouth.

Depending on the protocol for autopsies in Gotham, his eyes could be glued shut or held shut with contact like things that have tiny spikes that dig into the eyelid keeping it in place.

And as for his mouth, again this depends on what exactly the medical examiner that handled Jason's autopsy does because there are a few ways to keep a deceased person's mouth shut post-mortem. One is to sew the mouth closed, another is by using a special mouthguard that contains tiny spikes on the outer surface that keeps the mouth closed permanently....

So yeah, I realized all this and felt really sad because Jason has already gone through so much, and adding these small details build an even bigger picture of just how traumatizing it would be.