#probably won’t happen but I have anxiety | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soaps-mohawk · 5 months ago

Text

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.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“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 ->

To be notified about new chapters, please follow HERE and turn on notifications

#call of duty #call of duty fic #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 x reader #tf141 x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse

2K notes · View notes

ceesimz · 9 days ago

Text

matters of the heart

the first time dealing with Alexia after a loss doesn't go how you expect. (angst -> comfort/fluff)

There was something that one of Alexia’s friends had said to you, a passing comment in a conversation that was probably meant as a joke, which you had forgotten about entirely. Until it suddenly became the most relevant information of your life one evening, maybe even the statement that your whole relationship rode on like a lifeline.

“Hey, Ale.” You started softly once your relatively new girlfriend had answered your call. She was hundreds of miles away in another country in Europe, having just lost a game that none of the Barcelona players could have expected. You didn’t get more than a grunt as a greeting. “How are you?”

“What question is that.” The blonde scoffed quietly, speaking to you with a harshness that you had never been on the receiving end of before. “I feel like shit. I’m embarrassed and sick to my stomach with anger, how’s that?”

“O-okay.” You replied with a frown, caught off-guard by her unfamiliar behaviour and entirely unsure where to go from here.

‘Alexia always takes defeats personally, I wouldn’t go near her if I was paid to after she loses.’

“Sorry. I do not mean to be so… rude.” She sighed, though the apology sounded rather forced and not really that genuine.

“It’s okay. You’re allowed to be annoyed, it was a hard game.” You smiled sadly. She was silent on the other side of the line, using up all her defiance to not scoff at your empty words. In the moment of quiet, you could hear the distant sounds of cars passing by. “Where are you?”

“The balcony. Won’t sleep tonight and I don’t want to get into bed yet.” All her replies were blunt and curt, it already felt like you were fighting a losing battle. But you did what you thought you should do, what every good girlfriend would do in the same situation, and carried on.

“I can stay on the phone with you if you’d like tonight. We can talk until you get tired, you don’t have to sit outside in the cold alone all night. It’ll make you feel worse.”

The conversation continued in much the same way, with you saying things and hardly receiving more than a sentence at a time from Alexia. When your patience couldn’t handle it much longer, you moved onto different topics, discussing your day and your friends and your family, thinking it might be helping her.

In this situation, you felt like a fish out of water. Football was an entirely different world than yours, you would never know what it was like to lose such a high profile game like the one Alexia was so distraught over, so you really had no idea what to do. All you could do was try and hope your efforts were appreciated.

They weren’t. You were fighting a losing battle and had been from the second you decided to call her.

“I’m so sorry about the result tonight.” You said after there was yet another awkward silence. Maybe you should have hung up already, put her out of her misery that this phone call was, but the idea that Alexia was sitting alone and going over how much she loathed herself and the world in that moment wasn’t something you were comfortable with.

“Yeah, well, we deserved it. I deserved it. I had no awareness, my decision making was too slow, my passes were terrible. The way we played today, we should have all three European titles taken from us.”

You hadn’t been together all that long, but you had never once heard her speak with such… vitriol before. She spat her words out like they disgusted her to utter them, each sentence laced with heavy disdain, almost entirely directed at herself.

Almost.

“A loss isn’t a failure, Ale. Everything happens for a reason.”

She laughed at your words, a spiteful and venomous sound that was so sharp, it spiked a feeling of anxiety within you. However, it paled in comparison to what she did next.

“Everything happens for a reason, hm? You really believe that?” The blonde tutted and muttered in Catalan under her breath. Just as you went to reply, to back up your point and try to talk her down from the mountain of loathing she found herself on, she cut you off. “That is a stupid thing to say. It’s not true, it’s bullshit. A pathetic, empty bit of encouragement that works as well as a slap to the face. What do you want me to do with that? You, you think that will help me process this loss? To get over it so you can have me in a better mood, where I’m not complaining and being depressing about a football game? The most important thing in my life?”

The most important thing in her life. Football. You already knew that, but it didn’t make it any less difficult to hear her actually admit it.

“I didn’t mean t-” Your attempt to defend yourself from the fire of shame raging inside of her was futile. She didn’t care about anything except the fury coursing through her veins.

“This is so stupid. There is no good that comes from losing like we did today, it was a failure. I’m done with this, I’m going to bed.”

The tone that sounded after she hung up circled through your mind as you sat there, frozen, with your phone still at your ear.

If you were clueless beforehand, it was nothing compared to now. In a slight daze, your head spinning from the conversation that had just occurred, you pressed onto Alexia’s contact again. This time only to send a few messages. All of which went unread, and would for the rest of the night.

You went about your evening absentmindedly afterwards, a strange floating, mindless feeling consuming you. You weren’t entirely sure if you had just witnessed the end of your relationship or not. That thought set you off spiralling, yet you weren’t present in your overthinking. It happened without your knowledge, like you were merely a passenger to the kamikaze journey your anxiety sent you on.

You made dinner, but you didn’t remember doing so. You changed your bedsheets, you don’t remember picking the set you put on. You brushed your teeth and did your skincare, you got into bed unsure if you’d washed it all off or not. You sent more texts to Alexia, though this time with the absence of two blue ticks under your message engraved onto your eyelids. You fell asleep, and you remember the distinct lack of love in your heart as you did so.

—

Every member of the team woke up the next day feeling worse for wear after the gruelling game and hard-to-take loss the day before, but everybody noticed how truly broken Alexia was. Nobody dared to approach her and ask how she was, the headphones glued to her ears more than enough warning for people to keep their distance.

She was, very clearly, disconnected from her life. Stuck in her own mind, rehashing every fuck-up she had made and what lecture to give to her own team when they trained the next day. They feared her and the venom on her tongue, waiting to be unleashed upon the first person that might breathe too loudly in her vicinity.

Not one of them knew her first victim was her own girlfriend.

You did though, of course. But nobody else, not your friends, family, or even Alexia's family. Instead, you had to carry the burden of being your girlfriend's burden around on your own.

By the sounds of it, you were nothing but a distraction. Just another thing on her very hectic plate that she had to worry about. Answering your call the night before was merely a chore for her. And that stung.

From your very first date with her, when you initially learnt about her job and the chaos it entailed, you made it known that you would be there for her when she needed it. However, you also said, which Alexia frowned at and vehemently denied, that if the relationship was ever putting strain on her, you would rather she end it than carry on unhappily.

Since she didn't agree back then, you wished for nothing more than for her to end it before she hated you anymore. All night long, you considered doing it for her... but you were known for making some brash decisions whilst stuck in a spiral of overthinking, so you hung on a little longer. Thank god that you did.

It wasn't easy, not in the slightest. Sometimes, things get harder before they get easier.

Alexia's fury heightened infinitely when she got back to her apartment to find it empty. It lacked you. The pair of you agreed that you would be there to greet her when she got back to Barcelona, win, lose, or draw. What she didn't comprehend, when she realised you weren't there, was that she wasn't angry, she was mentally exhausted. From the match, the hangover of the horrors of the Olympics in the summer and that scarring penalty miss, from the argument the previous night, from everything in her life, personal and professional. Whether she could admit it to herself or not, you not being there when she needed you the most was unknowingly the catalyst to her breaking down.

It came a little delayed though; she was overwhelmed with her feelings, an experience she never coped well with, and she didn't know what to do with them all. So, she did what she did best, and shut herself off from everybody around her.

Or, at least, she tried.

For both of you, the couple days that followed were a blur. Alexia returned to training the next day, and you went to work. You continued with your lives as if the other never even existed. It was radio silence between you. Not one text, one call, nothing.

Alexia, ashamed of her actions and not brave enough to admit the full extent of the turmoil she was going through. You, embarrassed by your efforts and afraid that getting in touch with her would result in much the same way it did a few nights prior. No part of you was ready to hear her definitively and the relationship, even though that wasn't the case at all, so not talking to her at all was, in your honest (and wrong) opinion, the only feasible option.

Listening to her reveal that you weren't part of her future was something you'd always feared. Being with Alexia had been so different to any other relationship you’d been in, and that’s because she was unlike anyone you had ever come across. The moment you met her eye as you walked into the restaurant on that first date, where she looked so excited and enamoured by the sight of you even from afar, you were certain she was the one. And she proved that by being an exemplary partner, if not more, each and every day you had been together so far.

You could be your complete, authentic self in her presence, something you had never felt comfortable doing in past relationships. Being without her for a few days, you were lost. You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know where this left you both, where to go from here. You didn’t know if things could be recovered or not.

But, some miles away in the same city, there was a certain Spaniard that loathed herself for treating you in such a way. The hate she felt, it was more than what she’d feel after missing a penalty or having a poor game or when she got injured. This was incomparable to anything she had ever experienced, because of you. She had pushed you away when she needed you most- perhaps the most idiotic thing she could ever do.

All the emotions running rampant through her nervous system went a lot deeper than one loss. It was an amalgamation of so many things, and instead of handling them like an adult, like the role model everybody thought of her as, she let everything build up until it became too much to control. It was wreckless of her, completely and utterly wreckless. And careless.

For the first day or two of training after the game that caused all this, everyone at the club could tell there was something not quite right with her. But, given the result, they gave her space, knowing she would bounce back with somehow more determination than she’d ever had before. The only thing is, that didn’t happen.

Day three passed, she was still not herself. And on day four, none of them could take it anymore, they just didn’t know where to start. Out of everybody on the team, there was only one person who could talk some sense into her. That person just didn’t expect the sight she’d walk in on after coming back to the locker room once she had finished her lunch.

“Ale?”

The blonde flinched slightly at the unexpected voice where she was sat at her cubby, head deep in her phone. Irene stood at the door, concern evident on her face as Alexia sniffled and hastily brushed away the tears on her face. On her screen, your contact, your chat. Her fingers found themselves hovering over the keyboard, not knowing where on earth to start to reach out to you again, and she dropped the device to the bench below her in defeat when her friend walked in.

“What is up with you, hm? You are not quite right.” Irene stated gently, making her way over and sitting beside Alexia.

“Some things.” Alexia replied, resisting the urge to roll her eyes when Irene scoffed lightly, knowing she couldn’t escape the incoming, persistent pressing.

“Come on. It cannot be the loss the other day, it doesn’t affect you for this long.” The taller woman said, putting a hand on Alexia’s shoulder and squeezing reassuringly.

“I just… everything is so much, all the time. I don’t really know what to do with it all.” Alexia began with a sigh, her hand falling to the dainty gold bracelet on her left wrist you had bought her only a few weeks ago that had been glued to her wrist ever since. “And I have ruined my relationship.”

“What? No, I am sure you haven’t, Ale, you-”

“Trust me, I have.” She laughed in spite of herself, shaking her head in disappointment that was aimed entirely at herself.

“Well, what happened?” Irene questioned with a frown. Alexia sighed, again, and she slumped forward a little so that her elbows were on her knees and her head was in her hands.

After that, she relayed everything that had happened during the past few days to Irene. Her friend sat there with no judgement, listening intently to every detail Alexia told her. The midfielder couldn’t help it, whenever Irene checked in with her, it took very little for it all to come spilling out. Irene was wise, always had been, and had always been a shoulder to cry on for the younger Spaniard. Her advice was something Alexia treasured, as well as her ability at never failing to knock some sense into her. This occasion was just another example of that.

“You just have to talk to her. She is probably upset at how she couldn’t help you more than being angry at your attitude. She will not be too happy about that too, obviously, but you know her well and I know her a little, but enough to know that about her. She is smart, and loves you. All you need to do is let her know you love her too, through anything because I know you do, and apologise. Say how you really feel, the rest will follow.”

It might be obvious advice, but to Alexia, there’s too much anxiety for her to think clearly. She doubted herself too much, fully believed there wasn’t any way for her to come back. So, what did she do after her chat with Irene?

Nothing.

Until late that night, when you were already in bed, eyelids drooping shut as tears still escaped and dampened your pillow.

One thing, the only thing, that Alexia wished she could change about you was the way you thought of yourself. That had been something that tore her heart a little to hear, especially so early on when you tried to get her to promise to break up if things got too tough for her. From the way you spoke about yourself, how you made it sound like you were only a small part of her life, you would force her to choose football over you if it came down to it. She wouldn’t stand for it. She'd sooner be six feet under than break up with you.

You believed you were just an add-on to her life, the latter not being affected by you coming or going. If you left, you knew she'd have a million other things to keep her company, keep her distracted. Or, the next person in the queue would slip into her bed and, subsequently, into Alexia's world as a whole. It'd be as if you'd never existed in the first place. And Alexia hated nothing more on earth than that knot of insecurity you had.

You were so much more than just an add-on, you were the other half of her. In her previous relationships, she didn’t think of her and whoever she was with as one single thing. There was her, and her partner. She loved them, maybe, and she liked spending time together. But when it came to life decisions and future plans, she still always thought of… just herself. She put herself first, decided everything to do with her life, solely for her own good. Then you came along.

The second she realised that she factored you into everything she did, whether that be picking up dinner on the way home or looking for a new apartment, that’s when she knew you were the one. It had happened naturally, without her even noticing, until one night she was on the plane back from the USA in the summer, flicking through photos of a flat that her sister had sent her, when she wondered to herself if you’d like it too.

She knew the side of you that could overthink and ruminate on every little thing and roll it like a snowball on the ground into something much bigger, and in the end the guilt she felt knowing that you were most likely at home, alone, doing exactly that? It was enough to convince her to head over, hours after she should have when she got home from training earlier.

It was midnight when she pulled up outside your apartment complex with a bit of haphazard and slightly illegal parking. Her head wasn’t exactly the clearest, and she probably shouldn’t have driven when her eyes were glossy with tears and her hands shook so much she could barely muster the strength to open her car door, but she did, for you. The janitor inside, should he have cared for his job more, might have been concerned at such a sight if he wasn’t clocking off only five minutes after Alexia walked in. Whatever would happen once she reached her destination after spamming the elevator button, simply wasn’t his responsibility.

You had given her a spare key to your apartment not so long after getting together, as she had to you. So with a quiet knock on your door that went unanswered, she unlocked it and entered. The lights were off, only the low hum of the AC sounding through the otherwise silent apartment, and so she headed towards your bedroom.

Fortunately, when she stepped into your bedroom without so much a creak of the floorboards or the click of the door handle as it shut behind her, she saw the outline of you under the covers, facing away from her, sleeping.

It might not have been the smartest idea she’d ever had, maybe you would kill her for it in the morning, but nevertheless, she gave into her temptations. She slipped her shoes off, leaving them out of the way like you would always beg her to do, and cautiously climbed into bed beside you. In the dark, she couldn’t see the redness to your face or your puffy eyes or the empty pack of tissues on the bedside table. Instead, none the wiser to your feelings and whether you would be angrier than ever at her for such a choice, she shuffled up behind you and wrapped a tentative arm around your torso.

To her surprise, you covered her hand on your stomach with your own, though she wasn’t sure if it was an automatic reaction or not. You had stirred a little, though mostly clouded with sleep that tried tugging you under again.

“Didn’t know when I’d get to see you again.” You murmured, words slightly slurred. Alexia had to squeeze her eyes shut to will away the tears that tried to force their way out, and chose to shuffle closer so that she could kiss the back of your neck in apology.

“I’m sorry. For everything.” She whispered, voice cracking in the middle of the last word.

“I missed you.” You frowned, Alexia could hear it when you spoke.

“I missed you too. But go to sleep, we can talk in the morning. We both need rest.” She said quietly. You nodded, and that was that.

Rather unexpectedly, the pair of you slept rather well. Being back in each other’s company was as relieving mentally as it apparently was physically, allowing you both to get more rest when together. Though, as you woke up and found Alexia already awake beside you, it wasn’t long before the strange feeling of bliss gave way for the anxiety you knew would come sooner than later.

She was on her side, whereas you were on your back, and there was a sleepy but worried expression on her face. You knew the conversation about to be had was necessary, didn’t mean you hated it any less. The situation that faced you both was discomforting, there were certain to be words you didn’t want to hear, and all kinds of outcomes to it.

In anxious anticipation, you sat up, back against the headboard and knees against your chest with your arms resting atop them. Alexia decided to sit up too, though turned to face you with her legs crossed. It was quiet, awkwardly quiet, for some time, before the blonde spoke first, which you were glad for.

“I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. Especially when you were just trying to help.” She began. It wasn’t much, but it was a good start. “I appreciated that you wanted to make me feel better. But I don’t think anyone could have gotten through to me then.”

She fell silent, hoping you’d take your turn to talk then, to give her a chance to catch a glimpse of your true feelings. Communication went both ways, so you complied.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me that though. If I’d have known that ringing you would have made you feel worse, I wouldn’t have done it in the first place.” The insecurities you felt under the surface came through so clearly in your voice. Alexia frowned upon hearing your reply, desperately scrambling for a way to explain the point she wanted to make.

“I think you did make me feel better. And I know, I promise I know, that I did not show that. But… I needed you. I didn’t realise it and I wish I could change that, I am really sorry I didn’t see it, I just… haven’t had someone there for me like you when I have lost. I’m not used to it but now I know how to navigate it. I am sorry you got hurt along the way of me discovering that.” The furrow to her brow deepened, so much so you were sure there’d be lines left there permanently long after this conversation had finished, but you couldn’t focus on that once you saw the first tear slide down her cheek. She had her eyes focused on the cuff of her joggers, her fingers tracing the stitching. “I regret it. Because I know how it must have made you feel. I always want you to… to feel important, a-and I know I failed that this time. I’m sorry.”

At the sight and the sound of her getting so clearly upset by the situation, you felt yourself getting just as worked up too. Though, despite those feelings, one which was slowly becoming more prominent was relief. As the conversation continued, you slowly began to realise that this was just an argument, and you two would make it out of it. The doubts were being broken down, one by one, by the emotionally intelligent woman in front of you… even if it took a little while for that intelligence to come to light.

You reached out for her hand that was fidgeting with her trousers, and it caused her to look up. Just as she did, another tear fell from her eye, and you shuffled closer and copied her position so that you could wipe away that single tear before it hit the sheets below.

“These days without you have been… awful, but I think it helped us to work through what we felt. Maybe it helped us to… recognise what is most important to us.” You stated, which Alexia nodded affirmatively to. “How you spoke to me and treated me, it really did hurt me. I forgive you, though.”

Her eyes widened a little, definitely not expecting to hear those words so soon.

“You do?” She mumbled hopefully, sounding like a small child in the way she asked.

“I do. You were honest and you opened up. You didn’t say any excuses, I can see you didn’t mean any of it. It’s not all magically gone, but I’m not upset or angry with you.” The blonde closed her eyes and you weren’t exactly sure if the breath that came from her was a relieved sigh or a choked sob, but it didn’t matter because you knew then, by her reaction, that you would move past this bump in the road for definite.

“I didn’t mean a word I said. I really needed you and I hate that I didn’t realise that until too late. I swear, it won’t happen again, and if I could go b-”

“I know, I know.” You shushed her gently, leaning forward and wrapping your arms around her shoulders to bring her in for a much needed embrace. “It’s not too late, Ale. It’s not too late.”

“D-dios, I r-really love you.” You knew then that she was crying, burying her face into your neck and letting out all the emotions she’d kept stored up inside of her since that stupid game that caused all this.

For some time, you weren’t sure how long, you held her as she released everything pent up, one hand at some point having slipped down to her back and rubbing up and down comfortingly. You got just as much out of the hug as she did, except you’d already exerted almost all the tears you had, so you stayed there with her arms loosely around your back with your eyes closed and took time to relish in the feeling of her again.

Eventually, she slowed down to quiet sniffles, and she leaned back though kept her hands on your waist so that she could look at you.

“You are the most important thing to me, more than football, more than a win or a loss or a draw, more than anything. I will make sure you know that. I will.” She said firmly, looking into your eyes with a determination you knew you’d be wrong to doubt. There was, however, one more thing you needed to get off your chest.

“Ale, football isn’t my world. I don’t know what you need yet after a disappointing match, I need you to help me figure that out so I can be exactly what you need.” In an instant, she was nodding, her thumbs stroking up and down against the material of your shirt against your sides.

“Of course. Of course. I will help, I will try.” The blonde responded, and finally, this terrible blip was done with. You could look ahead at the future now, but not without soaking up the missed presence of the other before reluctantly facing the world again.

“Thank you.” You whispered, leaning your forehead against hers. Her hands raised to your cheeks then, and she tilted her chin up so that she could kiss your temple, then the space between your eyebrows, then your nose, and lastly, leaving a soft and unhurried kiss to your lips. It was a gesture that sealed this slightly unwanted but somewhat needed milestone off.

Obstacles occur in relationships, they’re quite common. How you come back from them, as a couple, is the defining factor in being able to move forward, or falling apart. In this instance, the pair of you stumbled at first but in the end, you flourished in working it out together, with respect, with decency, with love. The silver lining of it was that you both gained a surefire belief that you could make it through anything, as long as you had each other’s back.

The most important part of any relationship is trying your best to learn about the person you love. It won’t always be perfect, but as long as you’re trying, that’s all that matters.

—

look i mostly hate this and i've been writing it on and off since october (that game) and i am sooooo bad at writing this stuff so this is like a filler fic and a weight off my shoulders but be excited for more soon!! thanks for putting up with my bs☺️🧡

#alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #alexia putellas #woso #woso community #woso imagine #woso fic

655 notes · View notes

florencebirdsong · 29 days ago

Text

Healer Knows Best

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Healer AU - Chapter 1/3

Summary: you have a problem you can’t ignore anymore. The local healer, Agatha Harkness, is more than happy to help.

Tags: naive reader, virgin reader, first time, fingering, medical play, good girl, R is horny and doesn't have the words for it, no pronouns used for R, R is told it doesn’t counts as sex but does says yes to Agatha’s fingers so dubious consent, manipulation, corruption kink

masterlist | ao3

Authors note: dark grey Agatha my beloved

You knock on the healer’s door and wring your hands nervously as you wait for her to answer. Half of you hopes she isn’t home and the other hopes she is. Your problem is embarrassing but you know if she isn’t here now you won’t find the courage to return. Which means the feeling will only get worse.

She opens the door and you struggle to bury the relief and anxiety. Her beauty is startling and you curse your affliction for noticing. Her hair is braided back out of her face, a few strands escaping. The sunlight brings out the detail in her blue eyes.

“Healing or ingredients?” she asks.

You force yourself to look at the ground instead of staring.

“Healing please,” you say, forcing some strength into your voice.

“Very well,” she opens the door wider. “What seems to be the problem?” she asks as she leads you inside the small cottage.

It’s every surface is crowded with materials and ingredients and tools. You look around nervously. This is the first time you’ve been to see the healer by yourself. You haven’t even been inside before. She doesn’t offer you a seat. She stops in front of the bench that has the most space on it, a mortar and pestle front and centre.

“It’s…um a bit embarrassing,” you say.

“Now, now, dear, I’ve been doing this for decades. There’s nothing I haven’t heard. Or seen,” she adds with a wink.

Something flutters in your stomach and it only makes the feeling worse.

“It’s about,” you hesitate and then gesture vaguely to your lower stomach.

“Is something wrong with your monthly? Pain worse than usual?” She begins to move items around on the table.

You cross your arms around yourself. You knew you’d have to explain it for her to be able to help but that doesn’t mean you were able to make yourself prepare for it.

“It’s not that,” you say. “But it’s-it’s the same thing.”

The word is too vulgar. She turns back around.

“Thing? If it’s not your monthly then how can it be the same thing?”

“I mean,” you fluster, “It’s the same area.”

“You mean your cunt?” she asks bluntly. You gape at her. “This is a medical environment. Use the proper terms.” You continue to gape at her but she doesn’t seem phased. “What’s happening to your cunt?”

You gather yourself as best as you can.

“It-“

“My cunt,” she cuts you off. You look at her, lost. “Say it. I told you to use the proper terms. Say my cunt,” she makes a continue gesture.

“M-my cunt,” you force out and the smile she gives you in return warms you and makes that feeling grow, “feels…,” you hadn’t thought this far ahead, “weird.” You settle on.

“Weird how?” Her eyes trail down your form. “Itchy. Hot. Tingling. Wet?”

She steps closer with every word. You swallow harshly and look anywhere but at her.

“Um, tingling. And the last one,” you say quickly.

“Is there a colour to this wetness?” She asks, close enough to accidentally brush against.

You shake your head.

“I see,” she says and her eyebrows furrow a little.

“You see?” your ask worriedly at her expression. “You see what?”

“It’s probably nothing,” she tries to wave you off.

It doesn’t feel like nothing. It feels like you’re going to go crazy.

“But if it isn’t nothing, then what would it be?” your hands twist anxiously in the skirt of your dress.

“I can’t be sure yet. Hop up,” she taps the empty batch. You hesitate before lifting yourself to sit on the edge. “Now, this can be a little awkward but I need to be sure.”

“What can be awkward?” you ask as she steps closer.

She taps the inside of your knees and you open them without really thinking. She steps between them and you stare up at her with wide eyes. She’s close. Close enough that she’s the only thing you can see.

Her hand grasps the bottom of your dress and you stare up at her with wide eyes. She doesn’t look away as she lifts the skirt of your dress to your hips.

“What are you doing?” you ask, sounding breathless.

“I need to check for myself. There’s no point upsetting you if it’s nothing.”

“You’re going to…?” you can’t bring yourself to say it.

“I’m going to touch your cunt. Yes.”

You swallow harshly, your mouth suddenly dry. You don’t stop her when she pushes your legs further apart or when she begins to pull down your underwear. You try not to squirm. She’s a healer. Like she said, she’s seen everything. There’s nothing to be embarrassed or nervous about. It’s still hard not to be when she finally looks at you there.

“There’s no visual indications, which is a good sign, but I won’t be able to know until I touch,” two fingers stop inches from where you’re dripping and she looks up at you, “May I?”

There’s a look on her face you don’t have the name for you. You nod and her fingers gently run through your soaking folds. You gasp at the unfamiliar feeling. You look up at the ceiling when you realise it feels good. You don’t want the healer to see it on your face.

Her fingers run lower and your hips twitch as they run over that special spot you’re not meant to touch. She does it again with a bit more pressure and your hand flies to your mouth to stifle the embarrassing noise trying to escape it.

“Good,” she murmurs quietly to herself.

You think it’s over until she runs her finger higher and touches that thing. That sensitive something that you’ve only ever brushed. You can’t help gasping at the tingle it sparks. Agatha’s eyes lock onto you.

“Did that hurt?” she asks.

“No,” your voice cracks. “But it felt weird.”

“What about this?” Her finger circles and you cling to the table. “How does this feel?”

“I don’t-I don’t know. I-“

She presses down on that spot and the jolt it sends through you makes you close your legs. Her hips stop you. She sighs and pulls her hand away. You aren’t sure if you’re meant to be so upset about it.

“Did that make the feeling stronger?”

“Yes,” you manage to say.

“It’s not as bad as I thought.”

“It’s not?” you ask hopefully.

“No pain crosses out a couple options. The treatment will be easier that way.”

You relax for the first time. An easy treatment means the thing happening to you will be over soon.

“Do I take something or is it a paste?” you ask, hoping you brought enough money.

“Have you ever been with someone, dear?” she asks, ignoring your question.

“Yes.” Of course you have, you aren’t a hermit. You have friends and there’s always those yearly family gatherings. You aren’t sure how a person can go through life without being with someone else. Wouldn’t you die as a baby?

Agatha raises an eyebrow and studies your expression. You shift uncomfortably.

“Let me put it a different way,” she says and her hands land on your thighs. “Have you ever been fucked?”

“I-excuse me?” you stutter.

“It’s a simple question, dear. One I need answered as your healer.”

“I’m not married,” you say.

“So? That doesn’t mean you’ve never snuck off with another girl and let her fool around under your skirts.”

You’re so embarrassed that you feel like you’re going to die.

“Only your spouse is allowed to touch you under there,” you murmur. “And healers,” you quickly add on.

The look she gives you is almost amused.

“So that’s a no?” she asks and you nod your head. “I didn’t think so,” she says.

You watch, confused, as she moves to the other side of the room and picks up a small purple jar. She returns to her spot between your thighs, you didn’t even think to close them. She takes off the lid and tilts the jar towards you.

You peer in curiously at the jar. The gel inside of it is clear and you can’t smell anything.

“You’ll need to apply this twice a day,” she says. When she doesn’t say where or how much you ask. “In your cunt, dear.”

“In?”

“It can be a little uncomfortable for someone who hasn’t been touched there before,” she says sympathetically.

She hands you the jar and you stare down at it with wide eyes.

“How far in?” Is the first thing you can think of.

She snorts a little and you look up at her.

“All the way, dear.”

“How-how deep-“

She grasps your shaking hands.

“How about I administer the first dose?”

Your stomach twists. The feeling that’s been haunting you grows.

“Yes, please,” you don’t want to do it wrong.

You watch, almost entranced, as she takes the jar and dips two fingers into the liquid. She swirls them around for a few moments before scooping some out. She runs her fingers over you the spot you aren’t allowed to touch and you gasp at the cool feeling. One finger gently circles your entrance.

“I’ll go easy on you,” she murmurs.

She begins to slowly push one finger inside of you and you cling desperately to the table. The feeling is new and strange and you feel a slight stretching sensation. You look up from the strange, exciting image of a finger entering you to find Agatha focused solely on your face, analysing your every reaction. Embarrassment runs through you but can’t bring yourself to look away. Your breathing is heavy and it’s hard to think about anything other than her.

She pulls out before she’s all the way inside of you and you whimper at the sudden empty feeling. You’re surprised at how heavily you’re breathing and how desperately you want her back inside of you.

“You’re tighter than I thought,” Agatha says, her voice now has a rougher edge to it. “I’m going to need to use more fingers to properly coat your insides.”

“More?” your voice cracks and you try to hide how eager you are.

“It’ll feel the same as before,” she reassures as her fingers return to your entrance. “Just a bit tighter.”

She doesn’t give you time to question, she pushes two wet fingers inside of you. She’s just as slow as the first time and you fight yourself to keep still as every inch makes that feeling inside of you grow.

“It’s making it worse,” you gasp.

You thought the mixture was meant to stop this feeling inside of your cunt.

“Take it,” she says warningly and you whimper. “This won’t work if we can’t get it deep enough and you need to be wide open for me to do that.”

You don’t fight as she pushes deeper. You cling to her shoulders and try to open your legs wider, hoping that will help with the stretch. You whimper when she gets to her second knuckle and you can feel the shiver that runs through her at the sound.

“Good girl, almost there,” she says.

The name makes the tingling spread and you desperately hope she calls you it again.

Her fingers stop and you look down. They’re fully inside of you. It makes the feeling grow more and you have to focus on staying still to not embarrass yourself further.

“Is that it?” you ask, a slight whimper to your words.

“Not quite,” Agatha says, she’s got a smile on her face you haven’t seen before but it quickly transforms back into her professional mask. “We have to make sure it’s spread evenly.”

“How-”

She pulls her fingers half-way out before pushing back into you. A noise you’ve never made before escapes you. There’s a look on her face that you don’t have time to question as she does it again. And again and again. You try to count how many times she moves in and out of you to distract yourself from the wave of pleasure growing and growing inside of you. It doesn’t work. All you can concentrate on is the feeling of her fingers. How good it feels every time she thrusts back into you. How much you don’t want her to stop.

“I’m not deep enough,” she says and your confusion comes out in a whimper. It feels like she is. It feels like she’s reached the deepest part of you. “I’ll have to use another finger.”

“I-I can’t take that much,” you say with a slight whine.

Two fingers feel good, they feel so good but the idea of her adding another scares you. Two barely fit. Yet the memory of how the stretch turned into spine-tingling pleasure has you willing to take anything she gives you.

“You will,” she says and slips in her third finger without anymore warning.

Your cry quickly turns to a moan as the feeling inside of you intensifies. Agatha makes a small sound when she looks down at her hand. She slows down and your hips buck in protest. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t feeling overwhelmingly good.

She curls her fingers and that feeling triples.

“Something’s happening,” you say in a high pitched voice.

“Let it,” Agatha says, the reassurance from before gone as she concentrates solely on her fingers. She curls them again and hits something deep inside of you. You throw your head back and moan as that feeling snaps and your body floods with pleasure. It pulses inside of you in a never ending loop.

Agatha slows down but doesn’t stop until your exhausted body tilts forward and leans against her.

She gently pulls out and you make a protesting noise. The feeling of being so empty upsetting after being full for the first time. She chuckles quietly and wipes off her wet fingers on your thigh.

She quietly lets you get your strength back. Hands firmly holding you but not caressing. Your breathing is steadier when you pull back but it hitches at the look on her face. Her pupils are blown and she almost seems to be drinking you in with her eyes.

“Good,” she says and steps back. You feel a little lost. Agatha wipes her hand on a clean rag before picking up the jar again. “Repeat every two days. Let’s say, six times.”

You nod mutely and take the jar. You don’t get up. You don’t think your legs can hold you just yet.

“What happened at the end…” you trail off hoping Agatha will fill in the rest. She doesn’t. “Was I-was it supposed to?”

Agatha huffs a laugh.

“Yes, dear,” she says, “You needed to for the mixture to take effect properly.”

“Oh,” the tight hold embarrassment has loosens. Then anxiety takes hold. “Does that mean I need to do that?”

“Yes,” Agatha says with a secret smile.

You swallow nervously.

“Like how you did it?”

“There are a few other ways but I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

You nod and fiddle nervously with the jar as you try to imagine pushing your own fingers inside of you. The idea isn’t unpleasant. You’re more worried about someone discovering you. Will they believe that a healer has told you to? How are you meant to prove otherwise if they don’t? Drag them down to Agatha? If they really believe you’re breaking such a rule they won’t give you time to do so.

Agatha must see the look on your face.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. Lock the door, pull up your dress. It shouldn’t take too long with how sensitive you are,” she says and you fluster at her crassness. “Don’t be afraid to come back if you need some help with applying the mixture.”

You nod meekly and take the jar.

“I will.”

#birdsong writes #I do think this is some of my weaker work but hopefully you still enjoy #agatha all along #agatha h.#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha fanfic #agatha harkness fanfic #smut #gender neutral reader #female reader #healer au #agatha harkness #agatha harkness fanfiction #dub/con cw #med/play cw

589 notes · View notes

potofsoup · 6 months ago

Note

i love your fourth of july comics every year but this years feels extremely optimistic about biden’s abilities in the face of him letting roe get overturned and funding a gen*cide at worst or letting it happen at best by taking the bare minimum of regulatory action… i mean can he really be trusted at all anymore to do the right thing or act in line with the people’s demands? and how do we know the people behind project 2025 won’t just rig the election again to get in under false pretenses?

Hihi! Thank you for reading and enjoying my July 4th comics every year! I am in a non-US airport en route to a month-long trip in a place with sketchy internet, so sorry in advance for sloppiness in my response (and potentially going radio silent).

But:

I don't think he "let" Roe get overturned, since that was the Supreme Court's overwhelming conservative majority, which really started with Mitch McConnell refusing to approve Obama's appointee and forcing it into a 2016 election issue. The fact that Trump got to appoint 3 Supreme Court Justices is what got us here.

Re: Biden and the Israel/Hamas war ... on the one hand, there's definitely more that he could have done, but on the other hand, they are a whole other country over there. It's Hamas that initiated the Oct 7 attacks and took the hostages. It's Netanyahu and his right-wing government who decided to retaliate to such extreme extent. Biden can talk about how he would really like Netanyahu to stop fighting and step down, but at the end of the day that's not his call, any more than he can stop the Sudan fighting that is near-genocidal either.

So, to come to your question #1: "Can he really be trusted at all anymore to do the right thing or act in line with the people’s demands"?

For me, it's a resounding YES. Guyz, he has passed so much good domestic policies. My spouse works in green energy and the passing of the Inflation Reduction Act halved his anxiety and gave him legitimate hope. The tumblr post I linked to in my comic has links to many of the other great things that Biden has done. Tbh I voted for him in 2020 because "a moldy onion is still better than Trump", and I've been pleasantly surprised. Like how he tried to cancel student loans, the Supreme Court overturned it, and then he came back 6 months later with a different way to do it that didn't lead to a court challenge.

Is he perfect? Hell no. There's tons of stuff that I wish he did more about, or he went further on, but also he's just one guy heading one branch of government who is heading into an election year. (Just like FDR promising not joining WWII, while behind the scenes doing all the Lend-Lease Act stuff). And "the people" have lots of demands, many of them conflicting.

I'd also like to push at the unspoken part of your question... "Can he really be trusted to do the right thing..." compared to whom? Because right now the answer is "compared to Trump." And compared to Trump... I don't even trust Trump to respect the results of a legitimate election. Heck, he might just take his favorite state secrets, sell them to the highest bidder (or just show them off to someone for funzies), and then claim Presidential immunity. A decent Democrat who got stuff done vs someone who probably wants to pardon himself and all his friends and do Project 2025 stuff is not even on the same level. (Do I wish that there was a viable Democratic alternative to Biden? Sure! But who?) Heck, at this point -- imagine if it's Kamala Harris vs. Trump. Who would you vote for?

As for your question #2: "How do we know the people behind project 2025 won’t just rig the election again to get in under false pretenses?"

We don't. But also what can we do besides showing up to vote?

Actually, I need bullet points for this:

The 2022 midterm elections brought in fewer-than-expected election-deniers into crucial electoral offices at the state level, which means that hopefully most state electoral boards will continue to have integrity

Yes, voting is harder but at least we can still vote. So it's about getting out there and getting your vote counted. For some states, it involves waiting in 8 hour lines. For some states, it involves bringing 2 forms of ID. Document. Track. Make sure it's dropped off in a real ballot box and not a fake one. Don't believe messaging that the voting is happening on a different day or location, etc.

A 50.1% majority is easily challenged. A 55% majority, less so. Which means getting people out to vote.

The more people know about and think about the reality of a second Trump term (versus being disappointed by a Biden term), the more they will be motivated to vote against Trump.

Finally, let's be real here: I'm braced for a 2nd Trump term. That said:

I'm still going to go and vote for Biden, because the only way to prevent a 2nd Trump term is to vote.

A Trump term where either the House or Senate is controlled by the Democrats will be *very* different from a clean Republican sweep.

Even with a clean Republican sweep on the federal level, States have so much more power now, and voting the state level stuff will help shore up Democratic goals for the future. States get to draw voting districts however they want. States get to decide on abortion policies. If you live in a deep Red state, there still might be things to vote for that make it easier to live in now, and turn it purple a few elections down the line.

So at the end of the day, it's "Vote AND". Vote and keep living your best life. Vote and tell others about Project 2025. Vote and have hope. Even if Trump wins, at least you'll have voted against him. Vote and stay to build up a progressive wave for the next election.

#long ranty reply oops #fun fact: my congressional district had a tied vote during the primaries... so literally every vote counted #and then was recounted and one person pulled ahead by <25 votes i think

897 notes · View notes

sweets3rial · 2 months ago

Text

Blinded !

Kinktober Oct 9 !

re4!leon x mercenary!reader

summary: he can't see. all he can do is feel; feel her curves, the warmth of her skin, and her shuddering breaths against the shell of his ear

tags: TW!!: dubcon and mild non-con themes, enemies/lovers trope, bondage, blindfold, sub to dom leon, mentions of past relationship/memories, slight knifeplay, mentions of cuts and blood, re4 setting, yearning, doomed love, teasing, smut, the tiniest bit of fluff, rough sex, oral (f! receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v, pussy slapping, cowgirl, creampie, etc.

word count: 5.2k

be sure to check out my kinktober masterlist to see what's coming up in the future ;D!

the reverberating sound of heels clacking surrounded him. slowly and slowly getting closer. his jaw clenched, and his nails were digging into his palm. he was denying his anxiety, his fear, there was no doubt that a woman was walking towards him but he was in a vulnerable state.

he couldn’t see her. a black cloth was placed around his eyes, and he could only see a faint image of her silhouette, but she was just a blur due to the room’s low light.

he struggled against his restraints with a low grunt. handcuffs, no doubt, ones way too tight for his wrists. the metal dug into his skin, making him feel even more restrained. the footsteps stopped before him, and the sudden realization felt like a heavy weight on his shoulders…he recognized that perfume.

you must’ve noticed his realization, and a small scoff left your lips.

“never thought I’d catch the Leon Kennedy like this,” you mocked, placing a hand on your hip as you stared down at him. a sense of pride swelled in your chest. finally, you are the one looking down on him and not the other way around.

“and i never thought we’d meet again, at least not like this,” a small grin appeared at the corner of his lips. he was trying to cover up the millions of thoughts running through his head. why now? why do you appear now of all times? where have you been? why hasn’t he heard from you in months?

a small, bemused scoff left your lips. you stepped forward, dragging your heel behind her. you leaned forward, placing your hands on his shoulders, which caused him to jump. you’re in control; he no longer has this hold over you like he has all these years. you’re triumphant. you win.

years of playing cat and mouse have always ended up one way or another: in bed or with painful scars — both physically and emotionally.

“did you miss me?” you whispered, loud enough so he could hear you but low enough to where no one else could. shivers ran down his spine, and he adjusted his posture, leaning forward so he was beside the shell of your ear. you were warm, and the smell radiating from the sweet spot on your neck was dragging him in, pulling him closer and closer to you without any restraint.

he was helpless, tied up, and blindfolded, but also because you were his weakness. he hated to admit it, but it was true. days and nights he’s spent contemplating leaving his job and giving up on his job to pursue a life with her.

but he knew it could never happen, and it probably won’t ever happen. at the end of the day, passionate nights mean nothing. when the morning comes around, you both have to face the daunting reality. you have duties. duties that drive them against each other more often than you are brought together.

“quit the act and tell me what you want,” he bellowed.

to her, this was no act. did you miss me, Leon? do you feel the same way i do? do you feel the anger? the guilt for being angry and the confusion?

you pursed your lips together, peeling away from him slowly and letting your fingertips drag down his shoulders. you stepped back.

“you know what i want, Leon,” your steps began to circle him. “give me the amber, and both of us can walk away peacefully,”

the sound of a knife being slid from its sheath slowly made its way to his ears. he turned his head, following you as you stepped behind him.

“you know i can’t do that,”

you stopped. directly behind him. then, the feeling of a cold blade was pressed to his neck. his body tensed up as he tried to lean away from the edge of the blade.

that’s when he felt your lips brush up against the shell of his ear, “i don’t want to hurt you,”

further, the knife dug into his skin. he clenched his teeth, keeping a small wince hidden. it stung, but it stung even more because it was her.

“too late for that, isn’t it?” he snapped, and he could feel your tense up as a response.

and it was just the response he wanted. he wanted you to feel that guilt, he wanted you to know how you make him feel.

the nights you’ve left him in a cold bed, alone and vulnerable. the promises you’ve broken. the meaningless words and the endless lies.

you stood up straight, and the knife left his neck, slicing his skin even deeper. a small, surprised wince left his lips as you stepped back.

your fingers found the back of his neck, your nails slowly creeping up into his hair. he fell weak. the feeling was so familiar to him, your fingers tugging at his blonde strands and your nails scratching at his scalp.

he was pathetic. his eyes fluttering shut and chills running through him. a low hum escaped his lips, his head tilting to the side as he both tried to shake you off and lean into you more.

that was the problem. you knew everything. not only his job, where he lived, his name, and life but also just what could make him fold. small and gentle kisses, soft scratches at his scalp, whispers in his ears, and your smile. your damn smile.

if he wasn’t blindfolded, he would probably be in a much worse state than he is now.

“Leon, Leon, Leon,” you sighed, almost disappointed. your fingers traveled back down his neck, hooking the collar of his navy blue t-shirt.

“what do you want me to say?” you waltzed back around him, now standing in front of him. with a heavy sigh, you dropped into a squat, crossing your arms over his lap and leaning your cheek against his thigh.

he was growing hot. god, he could only imagine the look on your face. those fake pouty lips and those sly eyes looking up at him with a pleading and pawing at him like a cat. more like a fox.

“i’m sorry, baby,” you scooted forward a bit more, your hands practically splayed over his crotch. “i’m sorry that i’ve hurt you, but i’ve changed, i promise,”

Leon’s teeth began to nip at his bottom lip, you know what you do to him, and continue to use that to his advantage. his breath hitched as your fingers came up to toy with the belt buckle of his pants.

“i’m a good girl now, i’ve always been your good girl,” you were messing with him; tugging at the strings of his heart and also at the hardening cock in his pants.

you could feel it, pulsing on the purchase of his thigh, filling up with blood with every small touch and sly word.

“that’s the problem with you, Leon,” your tone was quick to change. “you allow it. you allow me to hurt you, you allow me back into your life, you don’t even fight it,”

how can i? he thought. how can i when it’s you? you’re all i’ve wanted. you’re all i need. even if i wanted to turn you away, my heart won’t allow me.

you let your head fall into his lap. it’s so odd. even in a situation like this, you find yourself feeling comforted in Leon’s lap. even though he’s tied up and bleeding from a cut on his neck.

if it was just them in the comfort of his apartment, his hands would card through the locks of your hair and massage your scalp. you would nuzzle into his abdomen and he would chuckle as he buried his nose further into the daily newspaper.

why did things have to end up this way? why couldn’t you walk a different path? maybe in another universe, you and Leon weren’t rivals but rather friends or even lovers. touch

but this isn’t another universe. you were doomed from the moment you met.

“you’re right,” he admitted, “i can’t fight against you because even if i do,” he looked down at her. he could see you faintly through the black fabric of his blindfold, laying helplessly in his lap.

only if this was another one of those passionate nights.

“you’ll come crawling back into my lap anyways,”

an unamused scoff left your lips. he was right. even if he pushed you away, fought against you, and kicked you to the curb. you’d come crawling back, scratching at his door like a stray cat.

and he’d open the door and let you back in again.

and you could be gone for months maybe even years without any contact and he’d still sit on his porch, waiting for your return.

with a sigh, you took the tip of your knife and began to drag it in circles around the imprint of his cock. his femur muscles tensed up and his toes curled inside of his boots.

“you say you hate me and how revolted you feel when you think of me,” taking your thumb, you pressed down onto the tip of his cock, emitting a low groan from his parted lips.

“but i think you’re lying,” you began to draw circles with your finger at the tip of his dick. the friction from his jeans was only adding pleasure along with the pressure of your thumb.

you looked up at him from his lap, eyes wide at the way he was struggling to keep a straight face. his eyebrows were twitching, beads of sweat formed at his hairline and his chest was heaving up and down.

he was keeping his mouth shut, preventing any unwanted moans from slipping out; knowing that it would only feed your drive.

“when i cross your mind, is it really hate that you feel?” your thumb smoothed along his shaft moving closer and closer to the base.

“or does the thought of me make your heart rate peak and your dick swell?” he adjusted his lap, pushing his hips forward into your hand.

“stop,” he grumbled, biting down on his lip even harder. he didn’t want you to stop. he wanted you to take what was hers. he wanted to feel your plump lips wrap around the sticky tip of his cock.

he wanted to feel your warm mouth envelop his dick until tears brimmed in your eyes and you were struggling to breathe.

“tell me, Leon,” your tongue lolled out, kitty licking at his jean-clad cock. he wanted to grab you so bad; pin you down and rip off whatever garments you had on. but he was locked in place.

your saliva was slowly starting to seep through his jeans and his boxers. he could practically feel your tongue slowly licking up at the pre cum dripping from his swollen tip.

“what do you think of when i cross your mind?”

god. when he thinks of you he can’t help but feel the ache in his heart.

images of your prancing around his house in his clothes. your fit so much bigger, falling mid-thigh and draping off your shoulders. every time you reach up he catches a glimpse of your plump ass and the little panties you wear underneath.

he thinks of waking up next to you; you’re propped up on your elbow toying with strands of his blonde hair with your fingers. you’re still naked and you’re smiling down at him, welcoming him with a morning kiss.

he thinks of you spread out beneath him; your skin is wet and sticky with sweat. your fingers are curled in his sheets and you’re burying your head into his pillows — muffling the sweet moans of his name.

he thinks of holding you against him, rocking his hips into yours, and drawing out quiet and sleepy mewls from your plump lips.

then the image of you walking away crosses his mind. you look back at him once and then he doesn’t see you again.

but you’ll never know that. because he’ll never tell you.

and you know that. your question will always remain unanswered but that’s okay.

standing up from your position, you leaned forward until you were face to face. he was still breathing heavily, you could see his eyes moving about curiously from underneath his blindfold.

you reached up, swiping your thumb over his bottom lip. there was a small cut, now scabbed over but still very swollen and new. it was probably from when he fell after you hit him in the back of the head.

“i guess you’ll never answer me, huh?” you whispered, mostly to yourself but you knew that he heard. you grabbed his chin, tilting his head up slightly and he willingly followed your guide.

he was leaning towards you, blindly trying to find your lips. you couldn’t say no, leaning in closer you let your lips connect with his. a soft and slow kiss, one that is rarely shared between you two.

he needed you against him. you were too far. he needed to see you. he needed to touch you. he was deliberately twisting the chains of the handcuffs, hoping that the pressure would cause them to snap.

he was also tugging at the rope that kept his ankles tied to the legs of the chair. he needed to be set free.

not because he wanted to escape, but solely because he wanted to touch you. he could care less about whether you wanted the amber or not.

he knew what you wanted more. and that was him.

he leaned further up into your lips, swiping his tongue along your bottom lip swaying you to lean your head to the side and allow his tongue to push up against yours.

the iron taste on his lips was invading yours, his blood was warm and fresh, staining your lips like the sweet juice of a strawberry.

you moaned into his mouth, crawling into his lap with your knees on the lateral side of his thighs. he groaned at the sudden pressure of your hips on his. he ground his hips up into yours, desperate to feel any kind of friction.

your mouth dropped open into a shaky moan, and you began to grind your hips down to match his pace.

“fuck, you’re wearing that skirt aren’t you?” he groaned into your lips.

“your favorite,” you smirked. only if he could see you in it, just so he could tear it off of you anyway. that tight black skirt that hugged your curves so perfectly and the way your belt would hang loosely on your hips.

fuck, he could see it now. you bit down on his bottom lip, drawing out more blood from his cut. he winced, but it turned him on more than it hurt him. you were consuming him slowly, part of him will always be inside of you, whether it was the small drops of blood coming from his lips or the weight of him in your heart.

“are you wearing my favorite pair?” he asked breathlessly. he was trying to distract you, distract you from the fact his left foot was now free, and the chains of the handcuffs were slowly starting to lock. he just needs one more foot and for this damn chain to break, then he’ll finally be able to touch you.

it’s the one thing he wants the most.

you let out a small chuckle, “what do you think i’m using to blindfold you?”

fuck. so your bare pussy is rubbing up against the bulge in his pants, god. your lips moved from his, across his jaw, down his neck, and stopped at the cut you gave him earlier. you flattened your tongue over the dry blood dripping from his cut.

you nipped at the reopened cut with your teeth, causing him to falter. like a vampire, you sucked greedily at his neck, your hands running up and down his abdomen. he was helpless beneath you, and god, it was bad. he was praying for strength, praying you wouldn’t leave him like this, praying he’d get a taste of the sweetness dripping from your cunt.

finally, his right foot was free, and you were still unaware. he couldn’t help but smile a bit. you were so oblivious, driven by the lust running through your veins, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t as well.

then, snap!

he’s got you.

the sound of the chains breaking sounded through the room, and your breath hitched. at first, you thought it was something from behind the door, but you were mistaken. a strong arm wrapped around your waist and a hand gripped the back of your head.

one minute, you were seated in his lap, and the next, you were being slammed to the ground beneath you.

the air was knocked out of you, and your vision was a blur. it didn’t take you long to realize that Leon had escaped from his restraints. he was hovering above you, one hand keeping your wrists locked together above your head and the other holding your thighs apart.

you whined as your bare wet clit was exposed to the crisp, cold air. you arched up into him with great anticipation. he didn’t need to see to know the ways of your body. he didn’t need to see to know how to devour your sweet pussy or to suck at your pretty clit. he didn’t need to see to know how to fuck you dumb. all he needed was his hands and the cock pulsing in his pants.

“got you,” he heaved, hovering directly above your face.

you watched as the tip of his nose traveled from your chin down your neck, your sternum, your abdomen, all the way until he was in between your thighs. he kept a hold of your wrists, bringing them down from above your head so that they’re rested on your stomach. he was using muscle memory alone to map out where to be and what to do.

oh, how the tables have turned. now he’s in control.

he parted your quivering lips with his two fingers, using his thumb to lift the hood of your clit before his nose came to nudge at it gently. a small whine left your mouth, and your hips bucked up into his mouth.

“Leon,” your tone was both stern and pathetic at the same time. you didn’t know whether you wanted to order him around or beg him. he could feel how needy you were, dripping all over his fingers and legs quivering.

“you want to know what I think about, huh?” he asked, flattening his tongue over your slit and licking up to your clit. a deep moan left your mouth, and your back left the ground, arching into the air. “i think about you like this,”

his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking hard. you choked on your breath, your nails digging into your palms and the heel of your shoe digging into his back. his lips left your clit with a pop, “all spread out for me, quivering and struggling against my grip,” he continued.

his fingers teased the ring of muscle around your hole, and he could feel the way you were clenching around absolutely nothing. he spat onto your cunt, causing you to jump, that’s when he let his middle finger sink into your aching cunt.

a shiver ran through you, and your mouth dropped open into a gasp. your gummy walls clenched around him, sucking him in and begging for more. “i think about this pretty pussy,” he curled his finger upwards into that spongy spot that had you trembling.

“how tight it is, how wet it gets for me, how it tastes, and how it reacts to my touch,” his tongue flicked over your clit repeatedly as he sunk another finger into you.

“Leon!” you whined, digging your heel further into his back, and it hurt like hell.

“I think of your voice and how beautiful it is and how i yearn for you to say my name,” he was breathless now, focused completely on your pleasure and his. endless moans slipped past your lips; now you were completely enveloped by the pleasure and the passion, the lust and the heat.

wet squelches of your cunt sounded throughout the room, along with his heavy breaths and your moans. you were dripping on the floor beneath you, dripping all over his fingers and palms. it’s been so long since you were underneath him like this, and he was between your thighs.

it was your favorite sight. his hair was all messy, sticking to your inner thighs. even with your black panties tied around his blue eyes, but you knew you were staring at you. his cheeks were flushed red, and his eyebrows were turned upwards. this was pleasurable for him, too.

he loved nothing more than being suffocated by your plump thighs and sucking the sweet essence that dripped from your cunt.

“fuck, you’re so wet,” he breathed out. his fingers kept up at the same pace, curling up against your sweet spot repeatedly. it was driving you mad, every moan you let out and every breath you took in only made you dizzier and dizzier. every curl of his fingers and every flick of his tongue was driving you closer to the edge.

“i’m close,” you whined, writhing underneath him and clamping your legs around his head. he groaned into your clit, the vibration sending you off the edge. you clamped around his fingers, the muscles of your thighs spasming as you inhaled a sharp breath.

you came, and you came hard. stars danced behind your eyes, and your mind went blank. it was like a shock ran through you, all your muscles tensed and then relaxed. he gave your clit one last kiss, then another to your abdomen, then up, up, up until he reached your chin.

you could smell your cunt on his lips, and he gave you a taste by placing a wet kiss on your lips. a wet kiss that turned into a passionate and deep makeout, with tongue and clacking teeth. one hand was running up and down your side; he was making a mental image of your figure. that way, it’s forever permeated into his mind.

he was making a picture of you in his head: the curve of your hip, the dip of your waist, the dips of your ribs, your plump breasts, and your stomach. your hands were tugging at the buckle of his belt; you were hungry and desperate.

you needed to feel him inside of you and the drag of his tip as he pounded in and out of you. his hand left your hip, and he reached to help you take his belt off. you let him do the work, focusing on exploring his body with your hands.

the rippling muscles of his back and shoulders, the warmth that radiated off his skin, the smell of his fading cologne, and the gunpowder on his clothes. his lips were so warm, tainted with the taste of your cunt.

it was so sloppy, so rushed. no words were needed to express the passion and the deep need for each other.

you helped him, taking your feet to push his pants down his hips. he groaned as he was finally able to free his cock, his tip was a deep red-purple, almost like a bruise. thick veins ran up the side, filled with warm blood. his balls, heavy and taut.

“Leon, hurry,” you were caught off guard when his hand suddenly came down and slapped at your clit, hard. you jumped, an unsolicited moan slipping past your swollen pink lips. he did it again and again, getting rougher each time.

“don’t,” slap! “fucking,” slap! “rush me!” SLAP!

“Leon!” you exclaimed.

you arched your back, feeling another orgasm inching closer. he grabbed the base of his cock again, bringing his tip down towards your clit. he slapped his heavy cock against your clit; it was so different this time because now you could feel the warmth of his pre-dripping onto you.

“fuck,” he cursed, pressing his tip into you, and as his tip stretched past that ring of muscle, you found yourself scratching down his arms and struggling to breathe. he was only feeding you his tip, thrusting it in, then out and in again. each time, it left you with a wet pop!

“look how patient you’re being,” he thrust in only a few more inches, teasing you but also himself. “see what you get when you’re patient,”

“fuck you,” you seethed, wrapping your legs around his waist and gripping the collar of his shirt, you flipped the two of you over; now he was on his back, and you were on top. you sunk onto the rest of his length, the sudden intrusion caused both of you to gasp.

your hips stilled, taking time to adjust, and his hands came to grip your thighs with a vice grip. your toes curled inside your heels, your skirt now resting around your hips, and your shirt under your bust. one of your hands rested on his chest while the other gripped at his jaw.

“you just don’t ever shut up, do you?” you spat, slowly beginning to rock your hips. you would laugh if you could see the way his eyes rolled into the back of his head. you were so fucking tight, so warm and wet, but made perfectly for him.

one of his hands reached for your hip, guiding you up and down the length of his cock.

“you piss me off,” your voice grew weak towards the end as his tip brushed up against your cervix.

“says the one who’s taking my dick so greedily,” his hips snapped up into yours, giving you a taste of what he could give you, and it was good. a loud moan lolled off your tongue. your hips are faltering, and your hips are bucking. he let out a breathless chuckle, “can’t even ride me anymore, you that eager, baby?”

he planted his feet onto the ground, gripping your hips, and thrust up into you hard. you slapped your hand over your mouth, preventing any other moans from slipping out, but even that failed. every thrust was like a ball of fire erupting inside of you; heat surged through every vein of your body, and you could feel it simmering down in your core.

“fuck, Leon,” you cried out.

you were a complete mess, digging your nails into his chest and crying like a pathetic bitch. it was so good, the pulsing of his cock, the drags of his swollen tip, and the way he hit your g-spot repeatedly with no fail. he was making a complete mess out of you, and you were letting him.

his balls slapped up against your ass, wet and heavy, eliciting the most lewd sounds.

“take it, baby, take it,”

you collapsed on top of him, letting him cage you against him as he continued to thrust into you. you sobbed into the crook of his neck, your knees and legs completely sore. his eyebrows knitted together as he struggled to keep his composure.

a ring of your juices mixed formed around the base of his cock and stuck to the tuft of dark brown hair at his abdomen. wet plats! and squelches were heard all around you, and you were completely blind to the fact that anyone could hear you.

“oh my god, take it,” he breathed out. you were reaching your second orgasm quickly, soaking his shirt with tears of bliss and drool, and he could tell from the way your walls were clamping down on the girth of his cock that you were close.

“want it inside, please! cum inside me, please,” you begged. he shut you up by grabbing a chunk of your hair and slamming his lips onto yours. you continued to moan and cry on his lips, struggling to kiss him back.

your mouth dropped open into a gasp as the tightness in your abdomen snapped like a rubber band. your thighs clamped on either side of his hips, and your walls clenched. you cried out his name as you came all over his cock, and he let out a deep grunt as he buried himself deep inside of you.

his fingertips dug into your back as he emptied his load inside of you, hot seed flooding your canal. you shivered at the feeling, wanting to crawl away from the overstimulation, but you kept yourself held down. he rolled his hips up, fucking his thick load into you deeper and deeper.

you both let out a deep breath, relaxing into each other and soaking in the bliss. he ran his hand up and down your back soothingly. his other was massaging at your scalp, a silent apology for pulling your hair earlier.

you sat up on his lap, his half-hard cock still sheathed deep inside of you. taking your thumb, you slipped it under his blindfold to slowly reveal him to the light. he squinted against the bright light, blinking rapidly to adjust to his surroundings.

he looked up at you. your hair a mess, your clothes wrinkled and dirty. your lips were swollen, and you were out of breath. you swiped your thumb over his bottom lip again, ogling the deep cut you gave him, both on his lip and his neck.

“did it hurt?” you asked quietly, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on his lips.

he hummed into your lips and shook his head, “it’s fine,”

you pulled away, swiping away the dust beneath his eye and on his cheekbone. there you were, his sweet girl. so caring, so gentle. he knows deep down inside you don’t want to hurt him. you could’ve easily tortured him to answer, stabbed him in his thigh, and pulled out his teeth until he was rendered helpless.

but instead, you use your libido and sex appeal, you kiss him gently and clean his dirty face. this was the true torture, knowing that moments like these only last for a short while before you have to go back to hating each other again.

you stood up from his lap, his cock leaving you with a pop. as you stood up, you continued to leer down at him.

he rested his head back against the concrete before resolving to stand up as well.

“you knew i didn’t have it, didn’t you?” he groaned, tucking his dick back into his pants. you smiled to yourself, tugging your skirt back down your hips and dusting off the dust on your clothes.

it was obvious he didn’t have the amber, it wasn’t in his gear or any of his pockets when you searched him. you knew he didn’t have it from the start. you just needed an excuse to get him underneath you or on top of you.

before he could zip up his pants, you threw something at him. his quick reflexes allowed him to catch it before it dropped. when he opened his fist, he couldn’t help but smile a bit. your crinkled panties.

“expect me when you get home, Kennedy,” you smirked back at him, “i’m coming to take back what’s mine,”

he’ll never know if you meant your panties … or him.

divider creds to @saradika ,, photos off of pinterest)

a/n: i apologize, i scheduled for this to post at 10:59 PM and i was wondering like ummm why am i not getting any notifs...turns out i scheduled it to post at 01:59AM .... so sorry guy :3! but i hope you enjoy this one :D!

notes: if you wanna be on my tag list pls message me or fill out the form below (just to make it easier on me :D)

taglist

tags :

@xoxoloveless @luvrgreyy @ynsvnte @satinwithsilk

@childchomper1 @porcelainseashore @stefoooo @spfoah @chesue00

@daervannafia @puppyina @prettyntxhee @leonkennedygvrl

@altissia-09 @leqonsluv3r @yuiopiklmn @folksriddle @squazmine

@its0214-am @xqlenkdy @belovedcloud

@beafart @admirxation @neverg0nnagivey0uup @fancyyme @marymustdie

@bloodstainedbandaid @jeonmochi99-blog @zizouu23

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #leon kennedy smut #sweetserials kinktober !#kinktober 2024 #leon kennedy re4 #re4 remake #leon kennedy kinktober

708 notes · View notes

chloe6994 · 1 month ago

Text

Arcane Headcanons: Mel, Jinx, Vi, and Caitlyn Bandaging a Hurt Reader

Mel Medarda

Calm and Composed: When Mel finds you hurt, her face remains calm, but her golden eyes flash with worry. She doesn’t panic; instead, she swiftly gathers supplies, taking charge with her usual elegance.

Gentle Touch: She kneels beside you, her hands steady as she carefully cleans your wounds. Her touch is feather-light, ensuring she doesn’t hurt you more than necessary.

Reassuring Words: Mel speaks softly, her voice soothing as she reassures you. “You’re stronger than this wound, my love. Just hold on for me.” Her words feel like a warm embrace, steadying you.

Attention to Detail: Every movement is precise. She ties bandages with neat, perfect knots, making sure nothing is left untreated.

Comfort Aftercare: Once she’s finished, she pulls you close, draping a luxurious blanket over you both as she strokes your hair. She pours you a glass of water or wine and sits with you until you fall asleep, her presence unwavering.

Jinx

Panicked and Guilt-Ridden: Seeing you hurt sends Jinx spiraling into panic at first. She stares at the blood on your skin, her hands trembling as flashes of her past haunt her. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to let this happen!”

Frantic But Determined: Despite her anxiety, she grabs her makeshift medical kit (which probably has questionable supplies like duct tape and loose bandages). Her hands shake as she starts cleaning your wounds, muttering to herself about how she’ll “fix you.”

Protective Rambling: Jinx talks a mile a minute while she works. “Next time, we’re strapping you in full armor! Or bubble wrap! Yeah, bubble wrap! You’re not leaving my side again!” It’s her way of coping and trying to distract you from the pain.

Messy But Effective: The bandaging process might be chaotic—she ties the bandages a little too tightly or uses too much tape—but it’s full of love and determination. She won’t stop until she’s sure you’re safe.

Endearing Snuggles: Afterward, Jinx collapses beside you, clinging to you like a lifeline. She refuses to leave your side, even if she’s still buzzing with nervous energy. “Don’t you dare scare me like that again, okay? Promise?”

Focused and Protective: When Vi sees you hurt, her heart skips a beat, but she immediately goes into action. “Alright, sit tight. I’ve got you.” She carries you to a safe spot if needed, her grip firm but careful.

Skilled Hands: Growing up in the Lanes, Vi knows how to handle injuries. She cleans your wounds quickly but thoroughly, her hands practiced and efficient. “This’ll sting a bit. Hang in there, babe.”

Fierce Reassurance: She keeps talking to you the entire time, her voice steady and grounding. “You’re tougher than this. Just a scratch, yeah? You’re gonna be fine.”

Soft Side Shows: Despite her tough exterior, Vi’s hands soften when she ties the bandages, making sure they’re secure but not uncomfortable. She presses a kiss to your forehead once she’s done.

Protective Vow: After you’re patched up, she keeps an arm around you, her jaw clenched with determination. “No one’s laying a finger on you again. I’ll make damn sure of it.”

Caitlyn

Efficient and Professional: Years of training in the Enforcers have made Caitlyn incredibly skilled at first aid. The moment she sees you hurt, she moves quickly, her expression calm but her eyes filled with concern. “Let me take care of this.”

Tender Care: Caitlyn’s movements are precise yet gentle as she cleans and dresses your wounds. She talks to you softly, her accent making her reassurances even more comforting. “You’re doing so well, darling. Almost there.”

Problem Solver: She keeps the atmosphere light, offering logical solutions to distract you. “After this, we’re investing in better protection for you. Perhaps a personal shield? Or maybe I’ll just keep you in the precinct with me.”

Personal Touch: Once she’s done, Caitlyn makes you tea and insists you rest. She’ll sit beside you, her hand resting on yours, ensuring you feel safe. “You don’t have to be brave alone, you know. I’m here.”

Steadfast Companion: She checks your bandages regularly and doesn’t leave your side until she’s certain you’re recovering. If she’s working, she’ll send you frequent messages to make sure you’re okay.

Each of them brings their unique personality to the task, showing their love for you in their own way.

#Arcane #Mel medarda #mel medarda x reader #headcanon #vi x reader #jinx x reader #caitlyn x reader #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn league of legends #leauge of legends #vi arcane #league of legends

456 notes · View notes

honeyedmiller · 1 month ago

Text

A Burning Desire part six

firefighter!joel miller x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist

rating: explicit. 18+, minors do not interact.

warnings: angst, hospitals, fluff, feelings!!! lots and lots of feelings!!!, smut (f!oral receiving, mentions of m!oral and handjobs, fingering, unprotected piv, consented filming), anxiety and overthinking, no use of y/n.

word count: 10.1k

synopsis: Joel’s accident has you confessing your feelings, and while you take care of him, you worry you’re becoming too attached too quick.

a/n: sorry the mood board sucks i literally couldn’t find anything that fit the vibes. hope u enjoy tho. xoxo

You don’t even know how you and Maria got to the hospital so fast.

Everything was a complete blur; your mind was in a haze and your heart was beating so fast you thought it would nearly jump out of your chest.

Please be okay. Please be okay. He has to be okay.

Your vision became blurry as tears welled your eyes, and in your mind all you can think about Joel and hoping to god you guys didn’t run any red lights, speeding against time and pouring rain as you drove here.

He has to be okay.

You felt like you were going to throw up. You didn’t know how bad it was, and you weren’t trying to be dramatic, but how could you not be worried?

The man you love is hurt and you couldn’t do anything about it. Your mind immediately went to Sarah, wondering if she was already here—then it shifted back to all of the scenarios running in your mind a million miles a minute.

A sob escapes your throat as Maria parks the car, giving you a tight hug before getting out of the car with you.

“It’ll all be okay. It’s Joel we're talking about here, hm? He’s a resilient man,” she tries her best to console you, but all you can do is meekly nod before you walk into St. David’s.

You’re shaking like a leaf as you approach the front desk. Maria clears her throat and the receptionist looks between you two, furrowing her brows.

“You’re not hurt, are you honey?” She asks you, and you shake your head. Not physically, anyway.

“No,” Maria tells her, “We’re here to see someone who got checked in probably not too long ago,” she says, and the receptionist nods in understanding. She twists her bright pink lips to the side, typing something into her computer.

“Who’s the patient you’re visiting today?” She pushes her glasses up her nose, looking at Maria intently.

“First name Joel, last name Miller.”

The receptionist types something into her computer once again, and she nods.

“Looks like he’s popular today. He has a lot of visitors,” she says, and you know it’s to lighten the mood, but you can’t bring yourself to laugh. You give her a small smile before she prints out two visitor stickers and hands them to you both.

“Here you are ladies. Fourth floor, and on the left is the waiting room.”

“Thank you ma’am,” Maria says, pulling your arm gently as you both put the stickers on and head to the elevators.

A few stray tears roll down your cheeks on the quiet ride up to the fourth floor. Maria won’t let go of you; a silent plea to say I’m here for you without saying a single word.

The elevator doors open and you turn to the left, seeing nearly everyone in the waiting room sporting an Austin Fire Department uniform. Your eyes search the room for Tommy and Sarah, and when you spot them, you make a beeline for them both.

You give Sarah a tight hug, rubbing her back in consolement. You’re the adult here, so you have to be strong and put on a brave face for her until you find out Joel’s prognosis.

Tommy hugs you next, and you can hear the stuttering in his breath as he tries to take a beat to calm down. He wraps Maria in his arms once he lets go of you, and you go back to hugging Sarah, to which she accepts in a heartbeat.

She’s hugging you tight and won’t let go, and you look around the room and give a weak smile to all of Joel and Tommy’s coworkers as they wave at you with sad smiles.

“What happened, Tommy?” You whisper, trying to brace yourself for the worst.

He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut.

“We were on a call and Joel needed to get to the third floor of a building, so he was climbing the ladder of the truck. I guess he slipped or lost his footing because he fell off the damn ladder, and his harness didn’t hold his body weight up right and it fucking snapped. He fell three stories to the ground,” Tommy said, tears coming out of his eyes.

You could barely even process his words. Your blood was pulsing in your ears and your body went still. You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to cry and panic, but you were in a room full of his colleagues and his daughter’s arms were wrapped around you tightly.

You look at him with glossy eyes, letting out a shaky breath. “Have the doctors said anything yet?”

“They’re doing scans and tests on him right now,” Tommy says.

“Was he at least wearing his helmet?” You can’t help but gnaw on your lip, body starting to tremble again in disbelief and fear.

“He was, but he took a really hard fall. He kept coming in and out of consciousness on the way here,” he says, and you shut your eyes to steady yourself. Maria gave you a look of sympathy before coaxing the four of you to sit down.

It became a waiting game at that point. Everyone was talking quietly amongst themselves, and Sarah leaned in to you and rested her head on your shoulder.

“How are you holding up?” You ask her, voice soft and concerned.

“He’s been hurt before, but not like this. I’m really scared,” she confesses, and you sigh and wrap your arm around her shoulder.

“Me too, sweetheart, but your dad is a strong man. He’ll get through whatever the outcome is,” you try to reassure her, but even you heard the worry in your own voice.

After what seemed like hours, a doctor comes out, looking down at her clipboard.

“For Joel Miller?” She says, and everyone looks up. She blinks in surprise that nearly the whole waiting room’s eyes are on her.

“Who’s his next of kin?” She asks, and Tommy stands up. He looks down at you and Sarah, nodding his head toward the doctor. He grabs Maria’s hand and you all walk up to her, waiting for her to tell you what’s going on with him.

“How is he?” Tommy asks, worry written all over his face. His brows were furrowed, eyes glossy, and his body language was stiff—he was on edge.

“We need to keep him here for a few days to keep a watchful eye on him and observe, just to make sure he’ll be okay. He hit his head really hard. He’s concussed and he has a couple of broken ribs with some bad bruising in various locations, but I’d consider him a seriously lucky fella. This could’ve ended a lot worse for him, but his heavy gear and helmet took a big amount of shock absorption from the fall,” she explains, and it feels like you can breathe a little better.

Of course, his injuries are still nothing of the sort that you wanted to hear, but knowing they aren’t worse than what they are fills you with a tiny bit of relief.

“When can we see him?” Sarah asks, and the doctor gives her a soft smile.

“Now, actually. He’s asleep and heavily medicated, so he probably won’t be up for awhile. Four visitors are allowed at a time,” the doctor says, and you all nod.

“You girls go ‘head. ‘M gonna inform the guys on what she just told us,” Tommy says, and you three nod before you follow the doctor past the doors labeled restricted. She takes you down a long hallway and into a room on the right hand side.

Your eyes land on Joel, wearing a hospital gown with an IV in his arm. He looks peaceful while he sleeps, breathing steadily on his own. You notice the bruising starting to form on his arms and you can’t help but get teary-eyed again at the sight of him like this.

You obviously know his job comes with many, many dangers—you just never in a million years thought he’d get hurt like this. You three pull up chairs to his bedside, making sure to stay out of the hospital staff’s way in case they need to get in around Joel or his bed.

“This man really is resilient,” Maria says, smiling at Sarah. She returns a weak one back with a small nod.

“He is. I know he’s a hero and he’s great at what he does, but sometimes I wish he and Uncle Tommy had a profession less… dangerous,” she confesses.

You can’t even begin to imagine the anxiety she’s faced practically her whole life, knowing her dad is doing a job that’s strenuous and physically demanding, not to mention the danger he has to face every time he’s out in the field.

“Have you ever talked to him about it?” You ask softly, genuinely curious and not-too-shocked about her confession. It seems like this thing would be normal for kids to think about when it comes to their loved ones performing a dangerous job such as this one.

She shakes her head. “No,” she says with a sigh, “He loves this job and it makes him happy. The last thing I want for him is to leave what makes him happy because of me.”

Sarah has to be the most level-headed, mature fourteen-year-old, you think. You’ve never met anyone as wise as her at her age—hell, nobody was this wise when you were around her age—and yet, her bravery and wits was tell-all about how she was raised. Joel really did a great job.

“I get your point,” you say eventually, meticulously calculating your next choice of words. “Maybe you should have that conversation with him, though—in your own time. His job makes him happy and it’s important, of course, but you make him happier and you will always come before his job.”

She offers you a small smile as she leans her head on your shoulder. You wrap your arm around her shoulders once more, giving her a loving squeeze of reassurance.

“You know, you’re an important part of his life now, too,” she starts. “He talks about you a lot. Admires you a ton. He’s crazy about you,” she giggles, green eyes looking up at you.

You can’t help but softly laugh.

“I’m crazy about him, too,” you confess, and Sarah’s smile widens.

“I’m really glad my dad finally found someone that makes him genuinely happy. You’re the perfect fit for our small lil family, so uh, thanks for being here. For him. For me. For all of us.”

Her words make your chest tighten and bloom with warmth. You can’t help it this time—tears spring to your eyes and you kiss her hair, smiling at her with pure endearment.

“There’s no place I’d rather be. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your lives.”

“Well damn, it’s about to be a sob fest in here,” Maria says, eyes welling with tears too.

All three of you laugh, wiping away the few tears that managed to escape. The door opens a few seconds later, and Tommy walks in. He looks exhausted, and he smiles sadly when his eyes land on his brother who was still in a deep sleep.

He sits in the empty chair next to Maria, watching as Joel’s chest rises and falls at a steady pace.

“Thank god he’s responsible and wore his gear correctly,” Tommy chuckles, shaking his head. “Doctor said he might be a little loopy when he wakes up from the medication.”

“He’s always been the responsible one, Uncle Tommy,” Sarah chastised him, causing everyone to laugh.

“Yeah yeah. I owe your old man big time, kid. Now I got this lovely lady here to keep me in check,” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows as he leans in to kiss Maria’s temple.

“Damn right, Miller. Don’t you forget it,” she pats his knee twice, an unmistakable happy grin adorning her lips.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he says, and she nudges his side before everyone’s attention shifts to Joel who groans softly. He doesn’t wake up, but his brows furrow for a few seconds before the tension leaves his face.

“Well, ‘m goin’ down to the cafeteria before it closes for the night. Anyone care to join me?” Tommy asks, gaze flitting from Maria to Sarah to you.

“Actually yeah, I haven’t eaten dinner tonight,” Sarah says, twisting her lips to the side. “I’ll go with you.”

“I’ll join you two,” Maria says as they all get up from their chairs, and you furrow your brows at her before she gives you a soft smile. “Just so you can get a little alone time with him,” she whispers, and you mouth thank you.

The door snaps shut behind them as they leave the room, and your focus hones in on Joel. You grab his hand and lace your fingers with his. You bring his hand up to brush your lips on his knuckles, leaving soft kisses there. His hand is warm. He is warm. He’s always warm; the most comfortable and loving presence you’ve ever been around.

You admire how strong this man is. How loving, how loyal, how he’s the type to give someone the shirt off his back if they needed it most. He’s selfless in every way possible. He’s the man of your dreams, and you’re so lucky to have found him when you did.

For once in your life, being confident and not pushing someone you care about away in self-sabotage has worked out endlessly in your favor.

“I love you, Joel,” the words slip past your lips easily, giving his knuckles another sweet kiss, “I love you so, so much. I’m so beyond lucky to be with you. I ain’t going anywhere, cowboy, so I hope you don’t get tired of me.”

Joel’s hand tightens around yours and you gasp, eyes darting to his face. He purses his lips before his hand goes limp again and you sigh, leaning over to kiss his forehead before you let go of his hand.

You decide to call your family and let them know what happened, just to keep them in the loop. You start with your mom and dad, standing in the corner of the hospital room as you look out at the plethora of lights of Austin that illuminate the night.

“Hey honey! We were just thinkin’ of you,” your mom chirps, and you laugh softly before you sigh and answer her in a hushed tone.

“Hey mama, I’ve got some bad news,” you start, chewing on your bottom lip.

“Oh no. What is it babygirl?” Her voice is laced with worry and overprotectiveness.

“Joel got injured pretty badly at work. He’s in the hospital right now, but he’s okay.”

Her gasp was unmistakable on the other line. “What? How did he get injured?”

“He slipped off of the truck ladder due to the rain, and his harness snapped,” you say, looking back at Joel.

“My god, how badly is he injured?” She’s frantic, and you hear some shuffling in the background.

“He’s got a pretty bad concussion, a couple of broken ribs and some bruising. Doctors said he’s very lucky considering the circumstances.”

“Oh, sweetheart. Is there anything we can do?”

“Do you mind texting the family group chat? I feel bad, I don’t want to bug Emi or Josh on their honeymoon but I wanna keep them in the loop.”

“Of course I can. And you know Emi, she’d want to know regardless,” your mom says, and you nod with a sigh.

“Thank you mom. I’ll keep you guys updated, okay?”

”Alright baby girl. Let us know. Love you lots,” she says, and you smile.

“Love you too, mama. Bye,” you hang up your phone and shove it in your back pocket, facing Joel again. He inhales sharply and squeezes his eyes shut, and you rush to his side and grab his hand.

“Joel?” You try to level out the anxiousness in your voice, biting your lip and furrowing your brows as he squeezes your hand.

He groans softly, eyes fighting to open. He eventually blinks them open the tiniest bit, furrowing his brow as he takes in his surroundings.

“What the hell happened?” He asks, voice cracking as he shuts his eyes again and swallows harshly.

“You were in an accident at work, my love. You took a pretty big fall,” you say, bringing his knuckles up to your mouth so you can softly kiss them.

“Shit,” he murmurs, eyes cracking open again.

“Everyone’s waiting for you in the waiting room. Sarah, Maria, and Tommy went to get food in the cafeteria. ‘M gonna go get a nurse to check up on you, okay?” You try to keep your voice soft and light in hopes of keeping him at ease.

He nods slightly, wincing when he tries to take a deep breath. You kiss his knuckles one more time before letting go of his hand, walking over to the nurses station not too far from his room.

“Excuse me?” You say, getting the attention of a nurse. He looks up at you with a smile, and you easily return one.

“The patient in room 411 just woke up.”

The nurse—whose name tag says Jeremy— nods at you and walks with you back to Joel’s room, and Joel squints his eyes open again. Jeremy grabs the clipboard off of the end of Joel’s bed, beaming down at him with a smile. You text Tommy that Joel’s awake and they should head back to the room soon in the meantime.

“Hey Mr. Miller, how are you feelin’?” Jeremy checks a couple of his vitals on the monitors, jotting something down on his paperwork.

“Like I got hit by a bus,” Joel says, wincing again as he tries to sit up more.

“It might feel like that for a couple of weeks, unfortunately. You had a pretty bad accident at work. You have a concussion and a couple of broken ribs,” Jeremy explains to Joel, and Joel’s face deflates.

“Shit,” he says, closing his eyes and furrowing his brows.

“We’re goin’ to keep you a couple ‘a days just to make sure your concussion isn’t too serious,” Jeremy says to Joel, clipping the clipboard back on the end of the bed.

The look on Joel’s face tells you he wants to argue, but it’s apparent the exhaustion he’s feeling has drained the fight in him. You can hear it in your head: ‘Couple ‘a days? I’ll be good t’go home by tomorrow.’

Joel just nods and murmurs a thank you to Jeremy as he leaves the room. His eyes find yours, and you can easily clock his frustration.

“I know you don’t wanna stay here baby, but it’s for your health,” you reason, sitting down next to him again. He reaches out for your hand and grabs it, bringing it to his mouth to kiss your knuckles.

“Y’know, I heard you talkin’ to your mom,” he says, eyes softening as you scoot closer to his bed. Your knees were touching the mattress now, and you were so close to him that you could feel the warmth radiating off of his body.

“Oh, yeah,” you start, huffing a laugh. “She’s worried about you, but I told her you were fine. My family will probably want to come visit you sometime after they release you.”

He smiles at that. “I’d love that. And, if I’m bein’ honest here…”

He looks at you with a certainty you’ve never seen before. Then it clicks—how much did he hear before? Your heart pounds against your ribcage as you wait for his next words, the anticipation nearly sending you spiraling.

“I heard what you said before your mom called you too, and sweetheart, I love you too. Kinda a weird place to say it for the first time to your face,” he chuckles, inhaling sharply at the pain. He still has a grin on his face that you’ll never get tired of seeing, and you can’t help but smile brightly at him.

“Joel, I—wait, did you say to my face?” You ask, raising a brow at him.

“Yeah uh, I kinda said it right after our first night together at the hotel. The night of your sister’s weddin’. I think you’d already fallen asleep, though.”

“No fucking way,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. He looks confused and frowns before you lean forward and press your lips gently to his, feeling the absolute emotion and passion behind such a simple, much needed kiss.

“I wanted to tell you then, too—that amazing morning we spent together before we went down to breakfast with my family. I’d been thinking about it all morning, and this whole week, actually. I wanted to tell you when I got to see you next.”

“‘M glad you feel the same way, darlin’. ‘M absolutely crazy about you,” he says, and you can’t help but gush at his confession.

“I love you, Joel,” you say with finality, and he grins widely.

“I love you too, baby,” he squeezes your hand and tugs you toward him for one final, searing kiss before the room door opens. You and him separate and turn to see Sarah, Tommy and Maria all entering the room.

“Dad!” Sarah exclaims, giving him a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey there pumpkin,” he says, wrapping his arms around her the best he can.

“Had us all scared there for a minute, brother,” Tommy chimes in, nudging his bed with his boot.

“I’ll be fine,” Joel grumbles, sighing.

“Glad you’re okay, Joel,” Maria says, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek.

“Thank you. And thank y’all for bein’ here,” Joel says.

“There’s no place else we’d be than right by your side, Joel,” you smile at him endearingly, and the other three nod their head in agreement.

“I appreciate y’all,” Joel’s gaze shifts to Tommy, “Can’t wait for Cap to put my ass through the wringer for this one.”

It elicits a laugh from Tommy, and he shakes his head before pointing his thumb at the door.

“Nah. Poor bastard was scared as hell. Whole crew is waitin’ out there for ya,”

“Shit, really?”

Tommy nods. “Mhm, but the doctor said only four people at a time can be in here to visit ya.”

“We should give the others a chance to see him,” you suggest, looking at the three.

“Took the words right out my mouth, lil lady,” Tommy chuckles, and you flash him a grin.

You look at Joel and grab his hand, giving it one more gentle squeeze. He gives you a lopsided smile and you lean down one last time to kiss his forehead, and he murmurs those three words that make your heart unabashedly skip a beat.

“I love you sweetheart.”

“I love you too, cowboy,” you wink at him and he huffs a laugh, slowly letting go of your hand. He gives Sarah one last hug and a kiss on the cheek before you all head back out to the waiting room. The rest of the team looks at you four as you all walk out, and three of them get sent back to see him.

Their captain stops to talk to Tommy for a bit before he heads back as well while you, Sarah and Maria take a seat again.

“So you finally said it, huh?” Maria nudges you, wiggling her brows. Your face heats and you look down at the frayed part of your jeans, trying to hide a shy smile.

“Yeah,” you confess.

“I’m so happy for you. You deserve this so much,” she says, and you smile and lean into her side hug.

“Thank you for encouraging me to stop being afraid of what I really feel. It’s about time I just stop cowering away and just let myself…feel,” you say.

“That’s what friends are for. You ever need a pep talk, I’m your girl.”

You both laugh at that, settling into a comfortable silence before Sarah taps you on the arm.

You look her way and offer her a smile, which she mirrors right back to you.

“Would you, uh, mind staying the weekend at our house?” She asks, and there’s a shyness to her voice that you instantly clock. You offer her a reassuring smile, silently vowing to her that you’d be there for her no matter what.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’d love to.”

You kept your word and stayed at the Miller’s house for the weekend. Joel was set to be discharged Sunday morning which thankfully came faster than expected. By the time you and Sarah got situated and wrangled him home, he was ushered to the couch to relax his body.

You were sitting next to him while a Cowboys game was playing on the TV, silently watching the end of the first quarter. Sarah was finishing some homework upstairs and Tommy and Maria were on their way for a Sunday night family dinner.

Tommy insisted on grilling some steaks tonight while you and Maria made some sides.

“Can I lay my head on your lap, baby?” Joel’s voice is soft, and he looks at you with those big, brown pleading eyes that make you melt in an instant.

You almost want to giggle at how cute he looks.

“Sure honey,” you scoot your body over before he slowly lays himself down, situating his head on your lap. He closes his eyes for a second before inhaling as much as he can without hurting himself, opening his eyes and fixating his gaze on you. You stare at each other like that for a moment before you bend down and give him a chaste kiss.

You try to separate yourself from him, but he puts his hand on the back of your head gently to keep you there. You can’t help but smile against his lips and kiss him again, a little bit longer this time, before you move your head up slightly.

“Don’t exert yourself too much now, Mr. Miller,” you tease, and he scoffs against your lips.

“If I wanna kiss my lady, ‘m gonna kiss her until my face turns blue,” he says, and you laugh at his fake stern tone. “‘Sides, it’s the only action I’m gonna be gettin’ for awhile anyway.”

Your jaw drops as you stare down at him. “Joel Miller!” You can’t help but laugh, “You’re an insatiable man, y’know that?” You take the liberty of running your fingers through his soft locks, and he closes his eyes for a brief second in comfort.

“What? ‘S true,” he pouts, and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be so dramatic, cowboy. Maybe you’ll get a little something from me soon enough.”

“You gonna give me some sugar, sugar?” He grins proudly at his lame joke and you huff a laugh.

“Only if you behave. Gotta wait a little while longer, though. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re really gonna make me wait?”

“Mhm. Learn some patience and keep it in your pants,” you giggle, and the irony of it all is that Joel is literally the most patient man you know. His laid back personality is every indication of patience, but it’s funny to see him squirm a little at the prospect of you taking care of him without having to have him exert himself in any way.

“It’s hard when I got a beautiful, lovin’ lady such as yourself.”

“Joel Miller, are you flirting with me?” You try to hold back your laugh, and he squints his eyes at you.

“And what if I was? Is it workin’?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and you can’t help but fully laugh this time. Fuck, you really love this man.

“Maybe. Means I’m not going anywhere, cowboy. You’re stuck with me,” you say, and he tugs you down for another sweet kiss.

“That’s fine by me. Hey, uh, speakin’ of not goin’ anywhere—” he pauses, looking like he’s trying to find the right words to say. “Would you mind stayin’ here while I heal up? Sarah n’ I would both love it if you’d stay here with us for the time bein’ if ‘s not an imposition, of course.”

You answer him almost immediately, trying not to sound too eager. “I don’t mind at all,” you say, “I know my boss wanted us to move remotely anyways, so it works out.” Your boss telling your whole department they were going to move strictly to remote work truly couldn’t have come at a better time, you think.

“I can also take Sarah to school and soccer practice for the time being too,” you offer, and a swirl of excitement settles deep into your bones at the thought of the domesticity of it all. You try not to think about it, but there’s something about spending consecutive days with the person you love that drives your heart into a frenzy.

“You’d do that?” His voice is soft, hopeful. You nod, brushing your fingers through his curls once more.

“You’re too good to me, woman,” he groans, bringing you down for one last kiss. You can’t help but smile against his lips, whispering right back to him.

“And you’re too good to me.”

It didn’t take long for all of you to fall into a routine. Mondays are hectic but manageable as you usher Sarah out of the door just in time to drive her to school. Tuesdays are for school and soccer practice, making a quick and easy dinner to appease everyone. Wednesdays are for school and tutoring, because Sarah is wickedly smart, but geometry seemed to take a toll on her. Thursdays are the same as Tuesdays, and Fridays are the days you all decide if it’ll be takeout or pizza for dinner.

Tommy and Maria will occasionally pop in and help with dinner once in a while, which is always a nice surprise. Your family visited too, checking in on Joel to make sure he’s okay. Your mom even made a pot of ‘get well soon soup’, as she likes to call it.

It’s now week three at the Miller household for you and you feel like you practically live here at this point. Well, in a way, you sorta do.

It’s just until Joel heals fully, though. Then it’s back to the regular routine—something you almost forgot about; what it was like before you brought some of your stuff over to Joel and Sarah’s.

You don’t know how it’ll feel to go back to a bed with an empty side on it, void of Joel and his comforting scent and warmth. You don’t know how it’ll feel to be back to stark quietness, no morning rushes or scrambling of eggs for three or showing off your pancake flipping skills that elicits excited laughs and rounds of applause.

If you were being completely honest with yourself, you didn’t want to go back to your apartment. You haven’t constantly been in a house so full of laughter and love since you left your parents to live on your own over a decade ago.

It’s funny, you think. You were so okay with being alone, so okay with pushing people away to ‘protect your own peace’ as you’d called it, so okay in your own little bubble—when in reality, you were sabotaging every potential relationship that had come your way.

After Christian, those feelings of doubt and isolation crept in and slowly sank its claws in you, and for a while, you were so content with just being by yourself—so much so that you’d already accepted the fact that you’d probably be alone forever.

And then Joel came along. This man has single handedly turned your whole world around, and you can’t get enough of him. He’s everything you’ve dreamed of and more. You don’t know what possessed you to make the first move a couple of months back at Rosemary’s, but you’re so fucking glad you did.

You probably wouldn’t be here in this warm house with the most loving man right now if you didn’t.

It’s another Tuesday at the Miller household, and Joel squeezes your shoulders to break you from your wandering mind.

You look up at him from your seat and give him a tired smile, looking back down at the steaming cup of coffee he placed in front of you.

“Penny for your thoughts, pretty lady?” He asks, kissing your cheek before sitting down next to you.

You know you were too chicken to tell him your real thoughts, so you made something up.

“Your birthday’s this weekend,” you state matter-of-factly. Okay, truthfully, it’s been on your mind for days, so it isn’t something totally made up. It seemed to work though as Joel groans and tips his head back.

“Don’t remind me,” he shakes his head with a chuckle, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Oh c’mon, let me plan a little something for you,” you pout, as if you didn’t already have a plan in mind that his family, your family and his friends knew about.

“My sweet girl, you don’t have to do that. Not exactly thrilled at celebratin’ turnin’ a year older.”

“But I want to, Mr. Miller,” you tease, and he groans. “Besides, you deserve to be celebrated.”

“You know what that does to me when you call me that,” he shifts in his seat and you have to stifle a laugh at how fast this man gets turned on by you. He doesn’t comment on the second half of your statement, which you decidedly let go of.

The feeling of power and seduction sinks her gnarly little teeth into your very being, and you can’t help but feel proud that you’re the one who makes him feel this way. Maybe slight possession wiggles her way in between power and seduction, nestling herself comfortably between the two.

“Alright alright, I’ll stop teasing. For now,” you say, quirking a brow as you point a finger at him. He leans forward and nips his teeth gently at the tip of your finger,

kissing it right after. He’s sporting a boyish grin when you look at him, and you roll your eyes with a smile before the chair scrapes against the floor as you get up, looking at your watch-clad wrist.

“Time to clock in.”

“Don’t be too long, darlin.’ I’ll miss that pretty face an awful lot.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible flirt?” You tease him, knowing damn well he isn’t.

“What I lack in flirting I make up for in other areas,” he smirks, giving your ass a slap as you walk past him. You fake-glare at him and he tosses his head back as a deep laugh rumbles from his chest, and you admire him so.

Fuck, you think. It’s going to be really hard going back to things as they were before.

A few days later, and you‘re basking in the way the golden rays of the autumn sun hit your skin through the blinds in Joel’s room. You aren’t fully awake yet, but you can feel Joel’s strong chest pressed securely against your back.

His grip on you is tight—protective, in a sense. It doesn’t waver when he begins to press soft, wet kisses against your shoulder, moving the strap of your nightie down as his kisses trail further up your neck.

He brings his mouth up to your ear, nibbling on your lobe a tiny bit before moving his hands up your torso to palm at your breasts.

You hum in response, your brain fuzzy and still trying to catch up to what was going on in reality. He tweaked your hardened buds through the satin you wore, and you instantly melted into the palms of his large, warm hands.

“Mornin’ honey,” he whispers, dragging his lips down your jugular. You hum again, slowly blinking your eyes open. You squint as the sun directly hits your eyes for a second before you stretch, hands above your head. The movement caused the satin material to slide up your thighs, exposing your bare bottom half.

Joel groans in response, and he flips you over onto your back before his sweet brown eyes meet yours—except his eyes were riddled with pure mischief. He wore a smirk to match, and you wrap your arms around the back of his neck before carding your fingers through his soft curls.

“Morning handsome,” you say, voice soft and full of sleep. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you beautiful,” the tenderness in his voice matches yours, but he takes one glance down your body before you feel his hardening length against your thigh. You stifle a laugh and bite your lip, excitement swirling in your bones.

You’ve touched Joel in the past few weeks—handjobs in the shower, morning head every so often—but you haven’t gone beyond that while he’s been healing up. You didn’t mind, obviously, but you can tell it’s been bothering him.

The thing about Joel, well, he’s a giver. And when he can’t provide what he wants to give, it drives him fucking nuts. You could easily see the frustration brewing within his features when he wanted to give you more, but he couldn’t exert himself. Doctor’s orders.

His lips trail down the satin material and he pulls it down where your breasts lay, exposing them to himself. He hums in delight and envelopes a pert bud into his mouth, closing his eyes as he licks and sucks.

You sigh in contentment, hips involuntarily bucking up. Guess you’re a lot more needy than you thought.

“Shouldn’t I be the one taking care of you? It’s your day, after all,” You’re breathless, arching your back off the mattress.

He releases your nipple with a small pop before his brown eyes meet yours once again. “It’s been drivin’ me crazy not bein’ able to please you the way I want—the way I know you deserve to be pleased.”

“But Joel, that wasn’t your fault. You were healing up from a terrible accident,” you reason, and he grunts.

“Still doesn’t mean I didn’t miss doin’ this,” he trails off, moving his lips down your torso as he slides his hands up your body to push the satin up.

The cold air of the bedroom hits your core and you gasp, eyes falling shut as you loll your head back.

He runs his hands back down to your thighs, digging his fingers into your hot skin before prying your legs open a bit further. He tosses your thighs over his shoulders and gives you the most devilish grin you think you’ve ever seen from him as you force yourself to look at him again.

He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he leans forward, kissing your aching, puffy core a few times before finally sticking his tongue out to lick a long stripe from your entrance to your clit.

Only then does he close his eyes in what seems to be pure ecstasy, groaning to himself as he gets lost in his own words and indulges in you.

You clamp a hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet, knowing that Sarah was right down the hall and Tommy and Maria were in the guest bedroom. They did not need to hear this.

Joel doesn’t relent and his thick muscle works you incredulously. He’s giving your clit kitten licks before sucking it into his mouth, not caring to be quiet with his ministrations. You’re gasping for air behind your hand as you feel that familiar warmth blooming in your belly already.

You realize you hadn’t even touched yourself in weeks, being too busy with work and taking Sarah to school and her extracurricular activities while simultaneously making sure Joel was okay and healing properly. Your want and desire was shoved all the way down, filed away and forgotten about until this very morning.

You can’t help it—your other hand goes flying to his curls as you begin to rock your hips against his mouth. God, he’s so fucking good at this. He hums against you with a chuckle and prods his tongue into you, fucking you with it.

Your eyes roll to the back of your skull and you have to bite down on your lip hard in order not to scream. Fuck, you wish you were back in that hotel room right now so you can be as loud as you want.

He continues to lick up and down your slit at a torturous pace after, making sure to tease your clit with the tiniest little flick at the tip of his tongue.

You’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm, and you whisper behind your hand don’t stop, don't stop, god, don’t stop before your thighs lock around his head and your body starts to twitch under his hold.

You have to shove your face into a pillow as you moan loudly into it, tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

And the thing is, he doesn’t fucking stop. In fact, he slides two fingers into you and curls them in a ‘come here’ motion, and your brain goes absolutely blank.

You squeeze your eyes shut and you’re seeing stars, body shaking so hard you feel like you’re rocking the whole damn bed. Then there’s a strange sensation—you feel like it’s perhaps a stronger orgasm, but with the feeling of needing to pee.

You toss the pillow off of your face to warn Joel to stop, but it’s too late. You’re fucking gushing around his mouth and fingers, clear liquid coating the bottom half of his face and the sheets beneath him. The squelching sound is so loud that you think this is what’ll get you both caught.

You’re gasping for air as you toss your head back on the mattress, body now completely limp. Joel slowly slides his fingers out of you before licking one up himself, moving up the mattress to hover over you before he takes his other hand and opens your jaw before slipping his finger into your mouth. You obediently suck, and you can feel his cock twitch in his sweats at that.

It’s a tangy-sweet taste, and you hum around his finger before peeling your eyes open as you try and even out your breathing.

“Always taste like a dream, baby,” he says, leaning down to kiss you. You taste yourself on his tongue and you moan into his mouth, reaching down to rub his cock through the fabric.

He all but growls into your mouth, rocking his hips into your hand. You gently force him to lay down after you separate your lips from his, smiling down at him before kissing his nose, then shuffle his sweats down his thighs.

To your delight, he isn’t wearing boxers. His delicious length is rock-hard, pre-come leaking from the slit. You thumb it and bring it up to your mouth for a little taste before you start to shuffle your body down the bed.

Joel catches your elbow though and gives you a pleading look. “I need to feel you, baby. Please,” his voice is a desperate whisper. How could you possibly say no to that?

You move back up again and straddle his hips, grabbing his cock before pumping the silky flesh a couple of times. You swipe his head between your folds and you both moan, all furrowed brows and bitten lips.

You finally sink down onto him, and Joel’s hands fly to your hips. He keeps you steady there for a second, and you can literally feel him pulsing inside of you. You have to bite your knuckle to keep from groaning his name.

“God, fuck—goddammit, you feel so fucking good,” he croaks, and you lean down to kiss him. He responds hungrily, hands roaming your body furiously before they settle on your ass. He squeezes your pillowy flesh, kneading it before slowly moving you up on his cock. You sink back down onto him after he nearly slips out of you, and you hiss at the intoxicating sensation.

“Fucking love your cock, Joel,” you whine, “I love you.”

“I–I, oh, fuck me, I love you too.”

His resolve totally crumbles as he gets lost in the feeling of your warmth wrapped so tightly around him, stretching beautifully and taking him so well. Like you were fucking made for him. And you are, you think.

“Yeah?” You ask, trying to be a tease but you can barely even concentrate yourself.

“Mhm. So fuckin’ lucky you’re all mine. ‘M the luckiest bastard alive,” he huffs, and you lean down to lick up his neck and suck a little on his pulse point. Not too hard, though, because god knows you two’d get teased to no end by both your families. It’s hard not to get too lost into it, though. You pull yourself back with the very little self restraint you have.

“I think you got it twisted, cowboy. I’m the lucky one,” you moan into his ear, kissing his temple afterward. “Thank you for loving me the way you do.”

He can’t help but groan at your words. You pick up the pace of your hips, planting your knees firmly on the mattress so you can start riding him for real. You set a relentless pace as you sit up straight, tossing your head back in pure ecstasy.

Your head lolls forward again and you look down at Joel who’s looking at you with such desperation in his eyes.

“Can I—fuck, I can’t believe I’m askin’ this,” he grabs your hips, slowing you down a beat. “Can I take a picture of you like this? On top ‘a me? Won’t get offended if you say no,” he’s cautious with his words, and you have to stifle a laugh. The amount of times you’ve thought about asking him to record you both fucking each other is actually ridiculous, even though this is only the third time.

“I’ll do you one better. Why don’t you take a video,” you send him a wink, and his cock twitches once more. You raise the nightie over your head, tossing it beside you on the bed. He groans at the sight of your naked body above him.

You bite your lip and look down at him, and he doesn’t waste another second before fumbling his phone off of the night stand, ignoring the plethora of texts he’s got, probably all wishing him a happy birthday.

His hands are a bit shaky, but he finally gets situated and hits record. You continue to ride him, putting on a little show for the camera as you move your hips in a seductive way. You smile down at Joel and give him a wink, picking up your pace.

You’re sure the camera frame is all skin slapping against skin and your breasts bouncing wildly as you ride him, and he can’t help the moans and whimpers that slip past his lips. He reaches up and gropes your breasts, tweaking your nipples between his thumb and forefinger once more.

You feel more of your slick arousal pool out of you at the sensation, and you know you’ve got him drenched with you.

“Fuck, Joel, you always feel so damn good,” you whine.

“Yeah? Who’s pretty pussy is this?” He asks, reaching down to rub your swollen clit. You cry out, biting the back of your hand to try your best to stay as quiet as possible, which you’re sure you’re doing terribly at.

“Yours, baby. All yours,” you confess, switching to a grinding motion. You both moan in unison as you circle your hips while giving yourself that extra friction. You feel the familiar bloom in the pit of your core, and you don’t know how much longer you’re going to last.

He needs to come first.

“Fuck, please don’t stop. I’m close,” Joel grits, and you do exactly as he says. “Where do you want me?” His voice sounds so small, so strained.

Your head snaps up and you look him in the eyes as you shoot him a wicked grin.

“In me.”

And that’s that. He comes instantly, body stilling as he pumps you full. You moan as you grind against him a few more times before you’re coming, too.

You’re both breathless and dazed as he stops recording, tossing his phone back onto the nightstand. You slip off of him and he instantly pulls you into him, covering you both with the comforter. He lifts his hips and tucks himself back into his sweats, nuzzling his face into your neck as he breathes you in.

“Best way to start my birthday,” he says, and you grin and nudge him gently.

“What the birthday boy wants, he gets,” you say, tipping his chin up for a chaste kiss.

“What he wants is to stay in bed with you all day.”

“I wish I could give you that too, handsome, but I’ve got a party to throw and you’re the guest of honor.”

He quirks a brow. “Guest of honor in my own home?”

You nod with a grin. “Mhm. So c’mon,” you tap his arm, “Up n’ at ‘em.”

“Five more minutes,” he groans, burying his face into your chest. He leaves soft kisses there, and you bring your hands up to cradle the back of his head and scratch his scalp.

“Fine. Five more minutes.”

That five minutes turned into forty five, with Tommy knocking on Joel’s door to shout “Happy birthday you old fucker! Get up!”

And now you’re all prepping for the party, telling Joel to sit and do nothing. He can’t have that, though, so he helps Tommy prep the grill for the burgers and chicken vegetable kabobs.

Sarah decorates the backyard while you and Maria dance around each other in the kitchen to prep some side dishes. Joel also requested that you make your chocolate chip cookies he loves so much, so you were eyeing them in the oven while you chopped up some iceberg lettuce for salad.

The doorbell rings, and you halt your chopping. You glance at the door before setting the knife down and wiping your hands before making your way over to open it up.

Your whole family stands there, and you immediately smile and hug them one-by-one before ushering them into the house.

“Maria, this is my mom Alexandria, my dad Michael, sister Emily, my brother-in-law Josh, and my brothers Andrew and Cole,” you point to everyone as you go down the line. “Everyone, this is my good friend Maria,” Maria beams a bright smile at them.

“Nice to meet y’all, I’ve heard lots of wonderful things,” she says, and Cole snorts.

“Shadow was just probably tryin’ to be nice,” he teases, and you roll your eyes.

“Dude, shut up,” you say, and Maria laughs.

“Oh, he’s funny. Tommy’ll love him,” she says.

“They already have a ‘bromance’ going with Joel,” you shudder at the words, “I’m sure they’ll get Tommy, too.”

“Not our fault we’re all funny and good looking,” Andy ran a hand on the side of his head in a slick-back motion.

“God, you two are idiots,” Emily chimes in, and your mom and dad laugh at the childish banter.

“Okay, okay, enough all of you,” your mom steps in, putting the tin foil pan on the counter.

“Go say hi to your boyfriend. He’s in the backyard,” you tease Andy and Cole, and Andy holds up a twenty-four pack of Modelo.

“Glady,” he’s got that smug smile on his face, and you huff a laugh. “C’mon Josh,” Andy nods his head out to the backyard where Joel and Tommy stand.

“Don’t corrupt my husband please!” Emily calls out as they step through the sliding glass door, giving Joel a wave as him and Tommy turn their heads.

“No promises!” Cole calls back, and they all follow them out to the backyard like a pack of wolves. Your attention is torn away as the oven beeps. You pull the cookies out, resting the tray on the counter before looking back outside.

You sigh and give Maria a nudge. “Let’s go rally the troops,” and she laughs as she follows you out to the backyard.

“I feel like I need to do a line-up military style to introduce all of you,” you say, and Joel and Tommy chuckle. Sarah sidles up beside you, giving you a grin.

“Hey sweetheart,” you say, looking around the backyard. “Everything looks amazing.”

She takes a half-bow. “I try, I try,” she says, and everyone laughs.

It takes a few minutes for you to introduce everybody to Sarah and Tommy, but once everyone is familiar with one another, they all get to mingling. Joel, Tommy, your dad and brothers crack a bottle open and gather around the grill while the women head inside, finishing up the last of the food. Sarah went up to her room to freshen up, which just left you, Maria, Emily, and your mom.

“So, Emi, how was Costa Rica? It looked beautiful,” you ask, plating the cookies before putting Saran Wrap over them.

“Oh my god, it was wonderful. The pictures I sent y’all didn’t even do it justice,” she swoons, putting her chin in the palm of her hand as she rests her elbow on the countertop.

“Am I getting grandbabies anytime soon?” Your mom asks, and you and Emily share a look.

“Mom, really?” You laugh, shaking your head.

“Hey! I ain’t getting any younger here, and it’ll probably be a couple of years before you and Joel start having any—”

You cut her off. “Mom, please. Don’t even go there.”

She huffs and puts her hands on her hips.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, mom, Josh and I didn’t use any contraceptives on this trip,” Emily says, and your mom’s eyes go wide.

“I’m gonna get a grand baby!” She dances in place, making the three of you laugh.

Emily shrugs with a smile. “Guess we’ll find out.”

A few hours later, the party was in full swing as everyone you’d invited was gathered in the backyard, laughing and talking amongst themselves. You made it a point to invite people at the firehouse he was close with, thanks to the help from Tommy.

“There’s my pretty lady,” Joel says, wrapping his arm around your shoulder before bringing you into his side. He kisses your temple gently before smiling at you. “Thank you for,” he gestures with his hand that was holding a Modelo, pointing the neck of the bottle into the crowd. “All of this. It means a lot that you’d do this for me.”

You offer him a soft smile. “Of course, Joel. You deserve to be celebrated.”

He leans down to give you a kiss. You wrap your arm around his waist, pulling him tighter into you. You pull away before prying eyes can catch you getting carried away because you know you get so caught up in the moment with him.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” You ask, putting a hand on his chest.

He nods and flashes you a soft grin. “I am, but y’know what I wish I was doin’ right now?” His voice lowers a couple of octaves, and that tone shoots straight to your core.

“I have an idea,” you say, trying to ignore the intense throb between your legs.

“Wishin’ I was buried between those pretty thighs of yours.”

He squeezes your hip and your eyes flutter shut for a few seconds, having half a mind to drag him upstairs into his bedroom so he can pound you into his mattress.

Your delicious fantasy dissipates as soon as you hear Tommy and Andy howling of laughter.

“Looks like our brothers are hitting it off,” you observantly say.

Joel nods. “Yeah, actually. The guys wanted to go out for beers next weekend. Told you it was the start of a beautiful bromance.”

You shoot Joel a look. “The guys? As in you, your brother and my brothers?”

He nods, and you can’t help but huff a laugh. “Well, have fun, and be careful. Don’t let them talk you into anything stupid. Don’t need another broken rib,” you roll your eyes teasingly, bumping your hip to him.

You grab his beer bottle from his hand, taking a swig of it before handing it back to him. He has that boyish grin on his face again and it’s so contagious.

“Definitely don’t want another one ‘a those. Shit still hurts when I turn a certain way.”

“I didn’t hurt you earlier, did I?” Your voice is lower now, referring to the lovely morning you two spent in his bed together.

“Not at all. Would’a said somethin’ if you did. Promise,” he says, kissing your temple.

“Well it won’t be too long before you’re all healed up.” And you have to go back to your apartment, drowning in the once-loved loneliness.

You dread it now, and you don’t know how to bring it up to him.

“Hey sis. Great party you threw,” Andy comes up to you and Joel, giving you a rare grin of appreciation.

“How drunk are you?” You raise an eyebrow at him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Can’t I compliment you without you thinking I’m under the influence?” He frowns at you, nudging your side.

“I guess so. Thanks, Andy,” you say, and he waves you off.

“Yeah yeah. Don’t get used to it.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes right back at him. “Wasn’t gonna.”

“Anyway, lemme steal my boyfriend back since you so rudely kept him to yourself for a long time,” Andy says, grinning at Joel.

Joel can’t help but laugh and shake his head, and if it could, his forehead would have ‘dear god help me’ scrawled across it.

The party went on for a couple more hours after that, the crowd slowly fizzling out. Everyone helped clean the backyard until it was spotless, and by the time everyone left except for you, Joel, and Sarah, it was nearly midnight.

You’d just finished brushing your teeth and washing your face before you climbed into Joel’s comfy bed, snuggling into his side as he pulled you closer to him. You start to trace small patterns on his warm chest with your fingertips, soaking in every moment you have while being beside him.

You don’t know how you’re gonna give this up. It honestly scares you how attached you’ve gotten to Joel.

And, well, for god sakes, you love the man—and he loves you. Being beside him these past few weeks has truthfully filled a void in your life that’s been empty for so long. Now that it’s fulfilled and you’re the one experiencing what love is really supposed to feel like for the first time in your life, you’re struggling with the prospect of being alone again at your own place.

You know you can come to Joel’s house at any time and vice versa, but it’s just not the same as being able to wake up in his arms every morning. It’s not the same as being able to go to sleep and the last thing you see is his beautiful face, smiling at you tiredly as his brown eyes droop closed. It’s not the same as having hectic but amazing mornings as you brew coffee for two, getting Sarah out of the house in time to take her to school.

God, you sound so clingy. Maybe you’re just overthinking this, like, a lot. Maybe Maria or Emily can give their input on this—

“Thank you for the party today, baby. Made my day so special and I can’t thank you enough for doin’ this for me.”

Joel’s deep, velvety voice pulls you from your thoughts. You smile at him tiredly, reaching a hand out to run through his curls before settling it on his cheek, swiping your thumb back and forth.

“I’d do anything for you, Joel Miller,” you lean in and kiss the tip of his nose.

“What did I do to deserve you?” His voice is a mere whisper as he moves his face closer to yours.

“You’re unapologetically yourself and you let me love you the way you deserve to be loved,” you answer as if it’s the most simple and obvious thing in the world.

“My dream woman,” he grins, giving you a kiss. “I love you.”

You’ll never get tired of hearing him say that.

“I love you too.”

And while he’s drifting off to sleep, you’re left with your anxious thoughts swirling your mind—ones that make you want to cower away and push push push, but you won’t allow it.

Not this time.

taglist: @raspberrybesitos ; @nostalxgic ; @endlessthxxghts ; @punkshort ; @clawdee

@pascalpvnk ; @bensonispunk ; @merz-8 ; @darkblue-tennesseee ; @typewriter83

@lizzie-cakes ; @sawymredfox ; @keylimebeag ; @nandan11 ; @pedropascalsbbg

@pimosworld ; @yxtkiwiyxt ; @anoverwhelmingdin ; @kikaaauu ; @buckyispunk

@untamedheart81 ; @picketniffler ; @fluffygoffpanda ; @paleidiot ; @survivingandenduring

@party-hearses ; @pedrospatch ; @harriedandharassed ; @brittmb115 ; @sunnytuliptime

@frodofreakingbaggins ; @aceaubrianna ; @tangled-tumbler-blog-blog

let me know if you'd like to be added or taken off of the tag list!

divider by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagines #joel miller au #firefighter!au #firefighter!joel miller #joel fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel x reader #joel miller the man that you are

429 notes · View notes

urdepressedslut · 1 year ago

Note

Hello lovely,

I saw your post that your requests are open, so I will give it a try =)

Imagine Bucky and reader are best friends but they have a huge argument and now they don't talk to each other for days. She's feeling really bad, missing him. He is her most important person and now without interacting with him for days, she's feeling lost and lonely and heartbroken. Maybe she has not a super power and is only a normal human, helping the Avengers with IT or something. Due to the argument with her best friend and not talking to Bucky (Bucky ignores her completely) she begins to feel it not only mental but also physically. She can't eat probably and at the end falls deathly sick.... With a fluffy happy ending and a worried and protective Bucky

Please. That would be nice.

Take care honey

oh my goodness— my heart 😭❤️ the angst is gonna hurt, but i’m such a sucker for it. i had so much fun writing this one, thank you for requesting and i hope you like it🥰

Love Hurts

♡ Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You and Bucky get into a heated argument, things are said and done and now he won’t speak to you. You don’t think you can handle him ignoring your existence.

♡ Warnings: language, mentions of bucky’s trauma, heavy angst, malnourishment, depression, anxiety/panic attacks, minor injuries, hospitalization, suicidal ideation, self hate, literally hurt just writing this

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | MATURE CONTENT 18+

Your nails bit into your palm, denting the flesh— threatening to pierce the delicate skin. It was all to hold yourself back, distract you from the words that wanted to burst out.

It was becoming a sickening routine, Bucky was reckless and had yet another near death experience on his recent mission. The anxiety and the nerves stopping your body from functioning— the dreaded wait for his jet to arrive back at the compound. You shouldn’t have to be used of receiving the call that he had yet again made a reckless move— but you were starting to discover a pattern.

It did nothing to ease the panic that swirled in your chest every time he left for missions. You’d sob, throwing up everything you had eaten that day— unable to stomach anything with the idea that Bucky was on a mission. You never found your anxiety to be so severe— but when Bucky was even mentioned about going on a mission… it spiked.

That’s where you found yourself in his room, watching him pace the space— avoiding your frustrated stare. You weren’t angry at him per say— you were angry that he didn’t value his life.

“Seriously (Y/n)— you get so worked up over nothing. I’m here and alive— isn’t that enough?” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You pressed your nails tighter to your palm, yet the pain couldn’t stop your thundering thoughts.

“You’re here and alive now, until you do some stupid shit like this again and are dead!” You hissed, trying to keep your voice low but you didn’t know how much longer you could control yourself.

He glared at you, squinting his eyes in anger and then rolling his eyes.

“Oh for fucks sake— can you stop fucking babying me? I can handle myself!” He raised his voice, his metal arm whirring.

“I’m not babying you— I’m just scared you’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you care about your life at all?” You asked him aggressively, your voice raising just a tad.

He took a long pause, staring at you with his face void of emotion— only annoyance.

“Not really.” He admitted.

You were taken back, although you had these conversations with him a time or twenty. It was an ongoing process to get him to slowly love himself— his past as The Winter Soldier torturing his soul. He was so convinced he wasn’t deserving of anything, not even a roof over his head. It was a struggle to help him, but you weren’t going to give up on him.

“You realize if anything ever happened to you I—” Your voice broke, needing a breath, “Buck I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

You thought you saw his eyes flash with guilt, but before you could linger on the look for too long— his face was hardening again.

“That doesn’t sound like my problem.” He mumbled out, making your eyes widen.

You were extremely taken back from those words, your chest aching painfully— him not knowing what effect those words had on you.

“Are you fucking serious?” You asked him, your face morphing into a hurt expression, mixed with anger. “Can you just do your job without trying to kill yourself?”

His face grew red with rage and he was stomping up towards you— his face inches from yours.

“I am doing my job— very well in fact. Unlike you who just fucking sits here doing nothing!” He defended himself, his breath hitting your face in warm pants.

“Doing nothing? Buck— why are you like this?” You puffed your chest, not backing down from his towering form.

But your words seemed to have hit a nerve, as he shrunk back slightly, narrowing his gaze at you.

“Like what?”

You furrowed your brows, slowing your racing heart from the shouting— you weren’t sure you had said anything bad. Did you?

“What?” You squeaked out, nervous now.

“You said, why am I like this… like what?” He pushed, stepping closer to you now, his face still red with anger but you could see the hurt in his eyes.

You swallowed and wondered how to convince him you didn’t mean anything bad by what you said. But you were almost positive it would be an impossible task to get Bucky to listen.

“Buck, I didn’t mean anythin—”

“What— you think I’m not capable of doing my job? You think I’m still the monster hydra made me?” He spat, his chest rising and falling quicker.

“No, no Buck listen—”

That was definitely not what you meant, you could tell he was spiraling and you were still confused as to why. You would never make him think that.

“After 70 fucking years I finally have a job that I like— that I enjoy doing— I fucking help people! I’m finally doing some good and now you’re telling me I’m not capable of doing it?” He boomed, his chest puffing into yours and your stumbled back slightly. “You think I’m only capable of being a monster? Huh? Is that what you fucking think?”

You were growing scared now, the look in his eyes wild with something and you didn’t like how close he was to you— you knew he’d never hurt you but your fear overwhelmed your senses.

“Friday— call Steve and Sam in here now!” You shouted into the room, and Bucky’s eyes squinted painfully— his metal arm whirring again.

Bucky only saw one thing— you didn’t reassure him that he was thinking irrationally. You didn’t correct him that he wasn’t the monster. Instead you called for help, that you were clearly scared— because you thought he was a monster.

He was at a loss for words and just stared at you, almost through you— as his breathing was only getting heavier at the sight of your fearful eyes.

Not even minutes later, Steve and Sam were busting through the door, taking in the scene and separated you and Bucky.

“Hey— what’s going on?” Steve asked in between the two of you. “Buck, what’s wrong man?”

You couldn’t seem to find the words and just stood speechless as well— the fight startling you. This was one of the worst ones, and it was also one that still left you confused. You cursed yourself for not being careful enough with your words— but it was almost impossible to get through to him when he was on the brink of having an episode.

Sam walked closer to you, his facing morphing into concern as he took in your shocked expression.

“(Y/n)? You okay? Did he hurt you?” Sam whispered, keeping his words only between you two.

You slowly shook your head but still didn’t respond verbally.

“Okay, okay that’s good. You wanna go get a drink from downstairs? Why don’t we take a breather okay?” Sam suggested softly, big brother mode kicking in at the sight of your frazzled state.

Without another word, you left the room with Sam— missing the devastated look from Bucky.

Steve waited until the door shut, then his attention was back on Bucky.

“Buck, you gotta talk to me man— what happened?” He asked softly, watching his friend slowly relax, but it wasn’t from being in a relaxing mood— his body and mind were just exhausted from the argument.

“I fucked everything up. That’s what happened.” He mumbled, turning away from Steve to sit on the edge of his bed.

Steve followed behind but stood in front of him, shaking his head— ready to argue.

“You didn’t mess anything up, arguments happen. You guys will work it out. I know how much you mean to each other.” Steve pointed out, watching Bucky’s face unchanging.

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me— she’s scared of me I—” He shuttered, his breath shaky as he remembered your look, “I fucking scared her.”

Steve’s chest ached, the state of his friend breaking his heart. He knew Bucky meant no harm, and he almost for a fact knew that you knew that too. But Bucky for sure didn’t believe that himself.

“I didn’t see what you saw, but I can guarantee you that she’s not afraid of you. This is (Y/n) we are talking about. You are her world Buck.” Steve tried to convince him.

Bucky shook his head, running his flesh hand through his hair.

“I think I just need to stay away from her for awhile.” Bucky came up with instead.

Steve immediately started shaking his head, knowing that was the last thing he needed.

“Bucky I—”

“Please Steve… I just need some space.” Bucky pleaded, his body sagging in exhaustion.

Steve couldn’t find it in himself to argue with him anymore about this. Maybe he did need some time to himself, to cool down and gather his thoughts. Also Steve wasn’t going to force him to anything ever. After the years his pal went through— he would never make him do anything. He had enough things decided for him, and Steve wasn’t about to stoop to hydra’s level.

Meanwhile down in the kitchen, Sam was getting you a glass of water— standing across from your seated form at the island. He slid the cup across, sending a worried glance at you.

“(Y/n)?” Sam snapped his fingers getting your attention.

You were shaken from your state of staring, but even snapped out of the trance— the anxieties still swirled within you.

“Yeah sorry… I’m here.” You whispered, grabbing the glass and taking a tiny sip.

Sam gave you a quizzical expression, watching you start to slip back into a mindless stare— so he spoke up.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” He asked, genuinely curious what had went down.

He knew— hell everyone knew you and Bucky were extremely close. Best of friends, always there for one another— dancing on the line of strictly friends to lovers. Truthfully, Sam found it completely obnoxious and just wanted you two together already.

“I don’t really know… I think I said the wrong thing— I didn’t mean to make him upset.” You confessed, keeping your eyes on the countertop, not risking a glance to Sam.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up— mistakes happen. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Sam told you.

You shook your head, gripping the cup tighter.

“God I hope so… I don’t know what I’d do without him.” You whispered pathetically, tears welling in your eyes.

Sam reached out to rub your arm comfortingly, trying to relax you so you didn’t start crying. He hated to see you cry— made his heart hurt.

“It’s been a long day for everyone, why don’t you go head upstairs and get some sleep. I’m sure things will have blown over by tomorrow.” He suggested and you finally met his gaze, smiling weakly and nodding.

Without saying goodbye, you stood up and headed to your room. Taking Sam’s words and playing them on repeat in your head.

Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow would be better.

God had you hoped that was the case— it only was the beginning on the torment.

You had slept in longer than usual, but overall felt refreshed. The first thing that came to mind when fully waking up was Bucky. Immediately you headed downstairs to find him— needing to talk with him— apologize.

Making it down to the kitchen, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in at the sight of him sitting at the island— sipping at his coffee. You furrowed your brows, thinking he'd be done with his coffee by now, since you had slept in. Your chest ached with guilt with the possibility that he didn't sleep well.

You took a deep breath before making yourself known, although you were sure be could sense you in the room— considering he was a super soldier.

"Morning Buck." You announced, walking around the island so you could face him.

He kept his gaze down at his coffee, finding the cup more interesting than you.

Okay, that’s fair. You thought, you most probably deserved that reaction.

“You sleep okay?” You asked again, picking at the skin on your nails nervously.

Again— he didn’t even lift his head. In fact, he wasn’t even acknowledging you. You waited several minutes for a response, the silence becoming thick with tension and you couldn’t stand it.

“Bucky?” You tried, and this time he lifted his head.

Your heart twinged in your chest at his bloodshot eyes, clear evidence that he hadn’t gotten good sleep. You hated yourself for causing him the stress, especially knowing he was just starting to actually get hours of sleep. It was huge progress compared to his nights either screaming awake or just staring at the walls. But now you had to go and ruin all that progress. You felt sick to your stomach— disgusted with yourself.

“I’m really sorry about last night… I didn’t like how ugly it got and I’m sorry if I said something to upset you— you know I’d never intentionally hurt you.” You told him, picking more aggressively at your nails, causing to nail beds to bleed.

You swallowed nervously when he didn’t answer right away, instead staring at you with… what was that? Disgust? You didn’t know, but you hated the look altogether.

“Bucky, please say something.” You pleaded.

Bucky lowered his gaze to his coffee again, taking a minute before he stood up and looked your way.

“I just need some space.” He told you quietly.

You were relived to have him finally talk to you, but to hear him suggest space between you two— you could almost feel the knife digging into your chest. You tried to keep a neutral expression but otherwise felt your bottom lip quiver.

Without giving you time to respond, Bucky was walking out of the room— leaving you standing there speechless, lungs begging for air. You didn’t want your mind to go immediately to that thought, but you couldn’t ignore it either— he hated you.

“Hey babe, I need you to help me out in the lab tod—” Tony came busting into the room, but immediately shut up once he saw your broken expression. “Honey, what’s wrong? You alright?”

You nodded your head, lying to him and yourself and started waving him off with the fakest smile.

“Yeah— yeah I’m good. Just need to uh— need to get some things done.” You told him, your eyes darting all around the room, the familiar feeling of panic seeping into your being.

Tony gave you a ‘really?’ look and stepped closer to you.

“(Y/n) I’m not blind— I can see you’re upset. Talk to m—”

“Seriously Tony— I’m fine! Just leave it alone!” You told him a little too aggressively.

His face was taken back and you felt guilty immediately, cursing yourself for hurting everyone.

Why are you such a fucking issue? Your mind screamed at you.

You didn’t waste another second and sped walked out of the room, needing to calm yourself down before you ran into any one else. You were spiraling and you needed to just relax— take a deep breath. Maybe you just needed one more day and things would be back to normal.

Yeah… just one more day.

You had hoped that was the case as well… but as always— things only got worse.

Bucky refused to talk to you or even look at you. He’d given you the cold shoulder for almost two weeks now. He would get up and leave the second you entered the room. He couldn’t stand you it seemed.

You couldn’t keep hiding your hurt. At first, you had done a good job at hiding how you were really feeling. Saving the sobbing and attacks for when you were alone in your room. As the days lingered on, you found yourself weak and drained— you didn’t have enough energy to put up a charade anymore.

The whole team were sending you worried looks, and attempted to talk with you. But the second they’d try— you’d bolt. The subject was too sensitive, too raw. You didn’t want to talk to anyone but Bucky— and he hated you.

You had missed so many meals, forgetting to eat with your mental struggles throughout the days. You had been getting no more than two hours of sleep. You were so stressed, so stuck in your own mind that you couldn’t function. Even when you had managed to remember to eat, your stomach would knot up to the point that you were throwing everything up. You were gaunt, basically a real life zombie. You needed help— but you needed Bucky more.

You were laying in bed staring unknowingly into space, it had been hard to focus with no food or sleep in your system— so you had only managed to lay here. Even that was exhausting, no matter how much you laid around— your mind wouldn’t stop the assault. Your anxiety had never been this bad, you were a prisoner to it.

Knocking at your door had you jumping, your heart racing— and for a moment you forgot where you were.

You’re in the compound… yeah that’s right.

You slowed your breathing and swung your legs sluggishly over the edge of the bed to answer it. You weren’t prepared for the sudden dizzy spell, your vision spotting with black and white specks. You tried to blink it off, but suddenly you were toppling to the ground.

You fell to the floor with a loud thump, luckily landing on your front, your hands somehow catching most of your fall— you could already feel the throbbing in your palms.

You didn’t hear the persistent knocking, or the door open. You didn’t even hear the voice speaking from the doorway. It was when a hand landed on your shoulder that you were gasping, forgetting your surroundings once again.

Your eyes met Steve’s and you swore your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

“(Y/n) are you alright?” He asked you, hovering his hands over you— not sure what you had hurt.

You furrowed your brows, looking him over.

“Steve what are… what are you doing here?” You asked genuinely confused.

You watched Steve’s eyes widen and he swallowed nervously— his expression growing more concerned.

“(Y/n) it’s okay… I’ve got you.” Steve hushed, and he was pulling you into his chest, hugging you protectively.

You were still confused but then you tasted one of your stray tears, and you immediately came to your senses. You were crying in Steve’s arms… but why? You were having gaps of time missing from you, this wasn’t the first time this had happened— you just didn’t seem to care.

“Steve… my head hurts.” You slurred into his chest, sagging against him.

You were grateful that he was here, you desperately needed someone around. You were just hoping that someone would’ve been Bucky.

“Okay, let’s get you to Helen. She’s gonna take care of you, okay?” Steve asked you, and you could only give a weak nod.

He knew there was no way you were walking there, so he hoisted you up into his arms, and cradled your head as he started to the med bay.

You just stared blankly at his chest, not really caring if Steve were to throw you off the roof of the building. You just didn’t care.

Steve had gotten you down to her, and she checked you out. Alerting Steve that you were extremely malnourished, dehydrated— an insomniac. She kept listing off all the things Steve was afraid to hear. The whole time he was sure you didn’t hear a thing, although you were in the room— you were just checked out.

Helen eventually left, and Steve took his opportunity to speak with you. He pulled up a chair next to the hospital bed and grabbed your hand.

“(Y/n), what’s going on? You can talk to me— you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Please… just talk to me.” Steve whispered, pleading with you that you would stop torturing yourself.

“He hates me.” You mumbled.

Steve’s eyes widened and he frowned, knowing what you meant. He knew he let this go on for too long.

“(Y/n) he doesn’t hate you. He just needed time to himself, so he co—”

“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, I don’t even know what I said to hurt him but I—” You rushed out, the heart monitor beeping frantically, “I’m a horrible person, I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to!”

You wheezed out, clutching your chest as you couldn’t catch your breath. Your cheeks glistened with a steady stream of tears, your wheezing only growing by the second.

“Okay, okay (Y/n)— I need you to slow your breathing. You’re okay, he doesn’t hate you. Just take deep breaths okay— even if you can’t just try. I’m here.” He tried to coach you, but this wasn’t his thing.

Now he was starting to get mad at his friend, Bucky shouldn’t of let this go on for this long.

You followed his chest rising and falling, staring at him as he tried to calm you down. Your breaths were heavy and painful sounding. Steve was about to say something but stopped himself when he saw your eyes look behind him.

He turned and saw Bucky standing in the doorway— his face paled. Truthfully, he looked like he was going to be sick.

“(Y/n)?” He whispered, his heart breaking at your state.

He had ran into Helen in the kitchen and was informed of your condition— he didn’t believe it and had to see for himself. He was shocked to find you like this.

Your tears only edged on from his appearance and you shook your head in shame.

“I’m sorry Bucky! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” You sobbed and Bucky ran to the bed, kneeling down and taking your hands into his.

“Doll it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here— I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you… I’m sorry.” He rushed out, shushing your cries, watching you slow your breathing at his words. “There we go, just keep breathing with me. I’m here, you’re okay.”

He kept repeating himself, making sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Steve knew you were in good hands and slowly snuck out of the room— knowing you two needed to talk.

Bucky tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek to your jaw. You couldn’t help the way your face leaned into his touch, it felt like it had been forever since the last one.

Your breathing had slowed down, and now you just stared up at him— eyes glossy with more tears. You felt so many emotions. You felt relived, but also angry and hurt. Above all— you needed to know what you did to upset him. The guilt still ate away at your heart, and even just the memory of the argument had your chest aching.

“What did I do?” You whispered, making his eyes shoot up to yours, concern painting his face.

“You didn’t do anything.” He told you, and you furrowed your brows.

You were still anxious— he hadn’t answered your question. Even more so— if you didn’t do anything then why did he ignore you?

“Then why?”

“Why what (Y/n)?” He dared to ask, and you scoffed— ripping your hands out of his.

The anger was approaching.

“Why did you shut me out?” You wondered, and he only let his eyes cast down to the bed— making you angrier. “You ignored me for two weeks! Two fucking weeks you just acted as if I didn’t exist! Do you know how much that fucking hurts?”

You were breathing heavy again, but this time it wasn’t from panic— it was the full force of all your anger bursting out.

He lifted his eyes to you, and you saw how broken he looked. How your state had affected him.

“I could never do that to you Buck— I would never do that to you! You’re my everything! I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust you!” You raised your voice, while he stayed silent. “If I didn’t do anything then why would you— why—”

You broke out into a sob, covering your face with your hands. You felt good getting all the built up anger out— but now you felt extremely guilty. The pitiful face of Bucky staring at you, causing your heart to hurt all over again. It didn’t matter what happened, you always ended up hurting others.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I— god I fucked up. I didn’t ever mean to hurt you, please know that. You’re my other half, and no one has ever been there for me like you have.” He spoke through a tight throat, swelling with emotion.

You uncovered your face and just stared at him a little longer, still incredibly hurt from his actions— but you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him. You so badly wanted to forgive and forget— and just wrap him in your arms like you both needed.

“It’s hard to explain what’s wrong with me to someone when I don’t even understand what’s wrong with me— I just know I’m fucked up. I’m broken beyond repair.” His voice broke, his own eyes welling with tears.

You didn’t have it in you to keep up an angry facade, and so you reached out and took his hand in yours. His face almost immediately lit up, his breathing slowing at your touch.

“Try me.” You whispered, watching Bucky take a deep breath before he spoke again.

“The night of our fight…” He started, and you swallowed in having to remember that night. “I had never seen you look at me like that.”

You stayed silent, afraid to open your mouth and have a sob escape. You could feel it bubbling up— the memory playing back through your mind.

“You looked at me like you were scared. You looked at me like I was a monster.” He confessed and it all made sense to you now.

It wasn’t about what you said, it was your reaction that disturbed him to no ends. Even if you couldn’t control your reaction in the moment— you still felt guilty for causing him pain of remembering the hydra days.

“Oh Buck…” You whimpered, trying to pull him close— but he pulled away before he could reach your embrace.

“No— you don’t get to be nice to me after what I did. I promised I would never hurt you and I did— you’re in here because of me! I don’t deserve your forgiveness!” He raised his voice, and you weren’t scared of him— just concerned.

“I wasn’t scared of you Bucky, you just caught me off guard. Things were heated— I’m not afraid of you and I most definitely don’t think you’re a monster.” You tried to convince him.

“I really hope you’re not lying because if you were afraid of me… god I don’t know what I’d do. If you never wanted to see me again— that’s fine. Whatever you want, but I can’t live knowing you’re afraid of me.” He whimpered out.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He nodded his head, knowing damn well you’d never lie. That was one thing he loved about you— you were so honest. Keeping it real with him, even if he didn’t wanna hear it. He could count on you for the truth.

“I still don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He argued.

“Well too bad, I’m forgiving you anyway.” You finally told him and he felt his chest expand.

Like he could finally breath.

“Why?” He wondered.

You knew it was the line you two had been dancing on forever— but you knew if there was ever a time to say it. It was now.

“Because I love you.” You admitted quietly.

His eyes widened just slightly, and his breath stuttered. He had always had a feeling what you two had was more than friends, he just never spoke up about it. Of course he loves you too— god he loves you so much. That’s why the thought of you being scared of him was enough to pull him away. He couldn’t bear being around you if you were frightened by him. He couldn’t live with himself. More importantly he now discovered, he really couldn’t live without you.

“I love you so much.” He confessed back as your tears leaked down your cheeks.

You pulled his arm, and he let you pull him to the bed— close enough where you could cup both his cheeks.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, please. I need you Bucky— life is not livable without you.” You cried, kissing his forehead to which he leaned into your lips.

“Never again— I promise.”

This time, he wouldn’t break it.

to be added to a taglist

TAGLIST: @engie115 @kmc1989 @ghostofwinter @silverfire13 @goldylions @potatothots @billy-reads @hanihoney88 @skittle479 @hereticdance @mentalidrainedfangirl @natashassandwich @marvelogic @soul-system @alinasmcu @almosttoopizza @lilbabygirll @sebastiansstanswhore @yujyujj @jasminocano

3K notes · View notes