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soaps-mohawk · 3 months ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 36: To The Sea

Summary: It's time to move on. You're not sure where you're going exactly, but anywhere is better than Texas

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,816 words

Warnings: ANGST, injuries, medical stuff, descriptions of pain and injuries, brief discussion about strangulation, mentions of PTSD and nightmares, so much crying, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, a very little sprinkle of comfort, language, mentions of medications, still very heavy emotionally

A/N: Not actually a lot of warnings for this one. It's a lot of dialogue and inner monologues. Not a lot happens, just mostly setting the scene for the next chunk of the story. Bring tissues though, the last part of the chapter emotionally wrecked me but also might be the best thing I've ever written.

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It’s warm outside.

Not even the shade from the building can completely shield you from the dome of heat that seems to surround the base. It seeps into the concrete and asphalt that lock it into place, trapping everyone in a bubble that may as well be an oven. It’s always hot in Texas, though. You hate it. You’ve been spoiled by the cold, rainy seasons in England. You’d gladly take that over Texas.

You’d take anything over Texas.

The heat prickles at your skin, your arm starting to get sweaty in the sling. It had been Dr. Keller’s idea to keep your shoulder as still as possible so you don’t continue to cause yourself pain when you move. It still hurts, but at least you won’t instinctively try to use your left arm now.

Despite the warmth, there’s still a chill deep in your bones. The warmth of the pain medicine has worn off and you’ve been left with the perpetual ice that has seemed to coat your insides. Dr. Keller says it's the stress giving you a fever. Every nightmare, every flashback sends your body temperature spiking, your heart beating right out of your chest. You’re not out of the woods yet. It can take a long time to recover from that level of distress and the omega taking over. You almost regret it, but there was no guarantee you would have lived either way at that time. You did what you had to do, and it did work out in the end.

But at what cost?

Dr. Keller’s phone buzzes in her pocket and she pulls it out, staring down at the screen for a moment. “Kyle wants to come by.”

You don’t want to see him. You don’t want to see any of them.

“I think you should see him. Even if it’s just for a moment.” She squeezes your hand. “I’ll be right here.”

It’s a predicament. Dr. Keller supports your decision to keep them away, putting some distance between all of you for the time being. Yet, she also says being close to your pack will help your healing. Having your pack around will help your omega settle once again. She needs that safety, that security before she finally lets go completely.

You don’t want to be close to them, but you may not have any other choice.

You sit there in silence, picking at the fabric of your sweatpants as you wait for Kyle’s arrival. Sweat has started to bead on your back, the day only getting warmer and warmer as the sun moves higher in the sky. You want to go back inside, back into the cool air conditioned building. You want to crawl back onto the hospital bed and lay there for the next few hours.

You can’t.

Footsteps approach, but you don’t look up. You know who it is. You don’t want to see him.

“Kyle.” Dr. Keller greets.

“Christine.” He says back. It still throws you off, hearing Dr. Keller's first name. She'll always be Dr. Keller to you. Kyle turns his attention to you, still standing a few steps from the bench you're perched on. “Hi, love.” He says. The affectionate nickname almost makes you wince. You don't look up at him. You don’t want to see his face. “I wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing.”

You don't move, don't give an answer. You don't have an answer to give anyway. You shouldn't have to give an answer.

He lowers himself onto the bench, sitting as far away from you as he can. “It’s hot today.” He says, adjusting his hat. Always wearing a hat. Maybe that's why he and Price work so well together.

He stares at you for a long moment but you don't bother moving, your gaze still on your sweatpants. They're starting to get a bit warm, even with your perpetual chill.

“I’m not here to apologize.” He says, breaking the silence. “You’ve probably heard enough apologies to last you a lifetime.” He shakes his head. “Words can’t fix what we did. Nothing can fix what we did, how we left you there. All we can do is give you what you need, try and make you as comfortable as possible.”

Tears burn your eyes as you listen to him. He's not wrong, an apology won't fix what happened. No words will ever be able to fix what they put you through. You're not sure there's anything they could do that would make up for it. An apology still would have been nice, despite the fact you know how guilty he is. Their avoidance of you, their willingness to give you such space in an unknown place just proves how guilty they all are.

That doesn't make things hurt any less.

You slowly turn away from Kyle, angling yourself towards Dr. Keller.

He doesn't say anything further in that regard, taking your movement as an answer to his non-apology. He leans forward instead, resting his elbows on his knees. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re getting ready to leave soon. We’ll be heading somewhere safe, somewhere quiet and secluded. I think you’ll like it.”

Dr. Keller had informed you of that earlier after she went to speak to them. They've decided what to do, what's best for the pack again. You might have protested, except for the fact it meant you were getting to leave Texas. Where exactly they're taking you, you're not sure. You just know it's not Texas.

“I want you to know that we’re here if you need us.” He stares at you for a moment longer before pushing himself up to stand.

If, not when.

Maybe they're finally getting the message.

Dr. Keller stands, touching your right shoulder gently before she steps away with Kyle, speaking quietly with him, but you can still hear every word in the nearly silent space around you.

“In an attempt to remain a neutral, professional party in this situation, I feel it would be appropriate for me to tell you not to beat yourself up too much about this.” Dr. Keller says. “The unprofessional side of me has many words I’d like to say to all of you.” She clears her throat. “That being said, on a positive note I can say you’re all doing the right thing for once, prioritizing your omega and fulfilling her needs, even if her needs require you to leave her alone for now. I know it’s hard, I know every instinct is screaming at you to help her, but just take comfort in knowing you are helping her. You’re doing the best thing you can do for her at this time.” Dr. Keller puts a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. “Even if it is tearing you up inside.”

“Thanks, Doc.” He says.

“I’ll see you soon.” She says, patting his arm before she heads back towards your bench.

You turn your head just slightly, not missing the way Gaz lingers for a brief moment before he turns his back on you, walking back down the sidewalk.

It hurts.

You want to cry with every swallow. No matter how much you chew, it doesn’t ease the pain of trying to swallow solid food. Even the worst sore throat you’ve ever had pales in comparison to this pain. Tears burn in your eyes as you eat, unable to refuse this time in favor of choking down some liquid nutrients. Even liquids make your throat ache, but they are easy to chug to get it over with at once.

This feels like torture.

Dr. Keller looks guilty as she spoon-feeds you the soup. Chicken noodle, something simple and easy but still something with some substance. It makes you think back to when you were sick as a child, your mother dutifully feeding you homemade chicken noodle soup until you reached the age you could feed yourself.

You do feel like a child again, unable to even hold the spoon. Well, you could hold it, but it would have come at the expense of some burns from how badly your hand was shaking.

So instead you sit here, being spoon-fed soup you can barely stand eating.

“I know.” She says as a tear finally falls, your inhale shaky from the ache in your throat. “You need something in your system for the sedative. It’s a long flight and you’ll be sick when you wake up if you don’t have anything in your stomach. That’s going to hurt a lot worse than eating now.”

Yeah. You’ve already figured that out.

“Strangulation is a tough thing to survive.” She says, dragging the bottom of the spoon against the edge of the bowl to wipe off any soup that might drip on you. “Then again, so is getting shot, and distressing to the point of your omega taking over.” She holds the spoon up to your lips, and you’re tempted to refuse. “You’ve survived a lot, more than most could. And to look this good after...”

You blink up at her, teary eyed and sickly looking, exhausted and bruised. Your left eye is still almost swollen shut, and your hair is tangled perhaps beyond saving, tied up in a bun at the top of your head. All just reminders of what you survived, all reminders of what happened to you. Of what was allowed to happen to you.

You’re not quite sure when the last time you had a real shower was either.

“I know.” She says, spooning more soup into your mouth. “You might not feel like it, right now.”

“I want a shower.” You say, your voice still hoarse and cracking through your throat. A real shower might solve a lot of problems for you right now. It won’t fix much, but being truly clean would make a lot of things feel better.

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Dr. Keller says.

You give her a look. You don't smell that bad. She should know, she’s the one that cleaned the blood off of you and the one who gave you the sponge bath this morning.

She gives you a look back. “I meant it would be nice to take a real shower. Once we get where we’re going, we can work on the logistics of a shower.”

Right. You can’t exactly stand for a long time on your own, not to mention the problem of only being able to use one arm without bringing blinding pain upon yourself. That’s where the pack would come in handy.

The thought of one of them seeing you vulnerable like that, putting their hands on you right now makes your skin crawl.

A shiver runs down your spine, your body shuddering uncontrollably. You grunt as your shoulder screams in pain, another electric jolt burning straight through your nerves and down through your feet. Fuck. You mouth the word, squeezing your eyes shut. It makes your stomach churn, the soup starting to burn a path back up through your esophagus.

“Breathe for me.” Dr. Keller says, putting a gentle hand on your right shoulder.

In and out. You focus on your breath, the only thing you can do without feeling like you’re going to go insane from the pain. It’s all you can do in this situation. It’s the only thing you can do at all. Breathe. Just keep breathing.

Sometimes you don’t want to.

The pain passes as it always does, leaving behind a subtle ache that will linger until the next flare of pain. It’s a constant, never-ending cycle that you can’t escape from. Weeks, Dr. Keller had said. It can take weeks to heal. You’ll be stuck in this cycle for weeks and weeks. What if it never heals? That is a possibility. It’s always a risk with any injury.

What if the rest of your life is like this?

You’re crying again, hot tears blazing a path down your cheeks. They won’t stop, they never stop. There’s a constant stream down your face, even in your sleep. You’ve woken to find your face and neck damp from the never ceasing flood of tears.

How you can’t wait for the time to come when you have none left.

You’d welcome the numbness at this point, greet it like an old friend and invite it in for tea. Anything over the pain and tears that won’t stop. The depression-fueled numbness that had filled you when Price and Gaz left, then Soap and Ghost would be a welcome relief at this point. Anything would be better than the pain.

You almost wish you were in a coma right now. Then you wouldn’t feel anything at all.

Dr. Keller puts the spoon back into the soup bowl before rolling the table to the side. She puts a hand on your head, gently stroking your hair as you cry. The room is silent aside from your sniffles, Dr. Keller not having to say a single word. The silence is almost a blessing. You’re tired of hearing words, of hearing people speak. There’s nothing anyone can say that will do anything to help you, to comfort you, to make it better.

There’s nothing anyone can do to make it better.

You’re so tired of being like this.

The sedative is kicking in before you even reach the airfield. She can see the way your head is drooping further and further forward in the car, your body jostling without any complaint. It had started kicking in before you even got into the car, as you offered very little resistance when Kyle helped her mauver you into the front seat. She chose Kyle out of everyone to help her in hopes it would be easiest on you. Your claimed alpha’s beta is a good place to start in rebuilding the bonds within the pack, and his calm demeanor certainly helps. He is a caretaker through and through, that beta trait prominent above the others in him. He would have made a good medic, had he gone that route.

Your chin drops to your chest as the car comes to a stop in front of the plane, your body slumping to the side against the door.

“She’s out.” Christine says, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Makes this easier.” Kyle says, getting out of the car.

They maneuver you into the wheelchair, Christine easing your head onto your right shoulder to avoid aggravating the left. The less pain you’re in when you come out of it, the better, though pain will be unavoidable. Kyle pushes the wheelchair up the ramp of the plane, Christine following close behind. She’s glad she gave you the sedative before you left the med center to avoid as much pain as possible. She almost wishes she had given it to you earlier, as getting you into a sweatshirt had been a battle of its own. Though, the longer it stays in your system, the longer you’ll sleep through the flight. The longer you sleep through the flight, the longer they can delay the inevitable emotional storm of being enclosed in a tight space with your pack.

If you’re lucky, you’ll be out of it long enough for them to reach the cottage without incident.

John is waiting near the front of the aircraft, his eyes watching carefully as Kyle helps maneuver you into a seat. Even with the turmoil in the pack bonds, an alpha will always feel protective over their omega. There’s some things that can’t be undone, even in such a fragile state. Some instincts can’t be unlearned, no matter what.

“I gave her a sedative.” Christine explains as she gets you as comfortable as possible in the seat. “It won’t last the whole flight, but it’ll take a while to wear off regardless.”

“Is that more for her or for us?” John asks.

“Both.” Christine says. “Mostly for her. It helps with the pain of moving around, but it will also keep her calm in close quarters like this.”

“Here.” John says, handing her something. It’s a blanket, brand new by the feel of it. “Johnny made a store run this morning. It’s going to get cold in here, so he got the warmest one he could find.”

Christine takes the blanket, the fabric thick and soft in her hands. It’s a touching gesture, speaking volumes of their desire to still care for you despite everything, their willingness to do what they have to, to keep the pack together. “Perfect.” She says, carefully draping it over you and tucking it around you before John gets you secured in the seat.

“It’s going to be a long flight.” John says, taking a step back.

“It is.” Christine says, pulling out her thermometer. She takes your temperature, letting out a hum at the number that pops up on screen. “I need to monitor her temperature.” She explains as John gives her a look. “It’s been spiking when she gets stressed.”

“She's not quite out of it yet, is she?” John asks.

“Not quite.” She says, putting the thermometer back in her bag. “I’ve only seen two omegas successfully come back from that point, and I know the number across the board isn’t very high. It takes a long time for the body and the brain to get back to normal.”

“And on top of everything that happened...”

She stares up at him for a long moment. “She’s very strong. I knew she was a fighter, but to come out the other side even where she is now...” Christine shakes her head. “I didn’t want to say this at the time, but I was expecting the worst. When that call came in about what state she was in...” She bites her lip, holding the emotions back. “Her resilience and fortitude is what kept her alive. That and Simon’s courage to do what needed to be done.”

“I know.” John says, looking past her. “We all owe a lot to him.”

Christine puts a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re doing what’s best for her. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much it goes against every instinct you have, it’s what she needs.”

“That’s all that matters to us right now.” John says, staring down at her hand for a moment. “There’s nothing else we can do, so it’s time we start putting our priorities where they should have been the whole time.”

Christine gives him a small smile. “I’m proud of you for that. It takes a lot to unlearn the things you’ve been told since the beginning.”

The corner of John’s lips twitch before his face falls into the emotionless mask he’s been wearing for the last few days. “It’s about time we get our heads out of our arses.”

“I can’t blame you totally.” She shrugs. “We were all just doing what the initiative was telling us to do. We couldn’t have known. There wasn’t any room to question it.”

“I wish we would have figured it out sooner.” He sighs.

“Things might have been worse if the truth did come out sooner. If you started digging into the initiative too soon, Shepherd might have gotten antsy and taken more drastic measures to stop the truth from coming out entirely.” She glances down at you. “I think this was all inevitable.” She turns her gaze back to John. “What happened, happened. None of us can change that. All we can do is keep moving forward with what we have right now.”

He stares at her for a long moment. “The more time passes, the more I’ve come to realize why Kate chose you for this position.”

The corner of her lips turns up in a smile. “Well, I am rather good at my job, which, among other things, involves advocating on behalf of omegas.”

John huffs. “Wish we would have listened sooner.”

“You can’t change the past.” She repeats, looking down at you again. “But you can change the future.”

You woke from your sedation about four hours from Helston.

Well, ’woke’ might have been too strong of a word for it. Your eyes opened, but you were still hazy, movements sluggish and entirely unaware of the world around you. You floated between sleep and awareness for an hour before finally gaining consciousness completely. Awareness took quite a while to return, though. Not until they were moving you to the car from the plane.

Even still you’re groggy, slumped against the door in the back seat of the car. You blink slowly, eyes unfocused as you stare out the window at the blur of green passing by.

“How is she?” John asks from the driver's seat, glancing up at the rearview mirror.

“Cow.” You say, blinking slowly as the car passes a field of cows.

“Still out of it.” Christine answers from the back seat where she's sitting next to you. Your response might have been enough to answer that. “Better than being in pain, though.”

“How long will it take for her to get out of it?” Kyle asks.

“Hopefully she’ll be more lucid by the time we get there, but it could take a few hours for it to completely wear off.” Christine says, wiping a bit of drool from your chin. “Probably not a bad thing. This is a big change, and with everything that’s happened, it’s going to take some time to settle in.”

“Things are going to be rough.” Kyle says.

“Yes.” She agrees. “Being enclosed in a small space with the people you want to see the least in the world isn’t an ideal situation. It’ll be an adjustment for everyone. I trust all of your abilities to adapt, though. Just don't go in expecting things to be the way they were.”

John's hands tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. Kyle cracks his window open, prepared for the thickening of John's scent in the air. Christine knows she hit a nerve, but it needed to be said. Even if you were open to forgiveness right now, even if they had chosen to go after you right away, things still wouldn't be the same. Things won't ever be the same. It is their fault deep at the root of it. Those cameras were put up because of them, you were taken because of them. You were chosen for the “initiative” because of them, because Kate thought you'd fit in well with them. Their decisions shaped your life, and will continue to shape your life.

Can you ever come to forgive them? Christine likes to think so. She has the hope that they can put in the work and regain your trust and earn eventual forgiveness. She knows you'll allow them to try once the initial hurt and emotions begin to fade, once the two of you put in enough work to start processing the trauma around the events that happened. It will take time. Probably a long time.

She'll be there every step of the way.

“Ashley did some shopping for us, picked up some stuff to get us until we can get into town.” Kyle says, looking at his phone.

“Good.” John says, his shoulders starting to relax. “Should wait a couple days before going. Get settled in.”

“She's still working on cleaning up. Probably still be there when we get there.” Kyle says, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“That's fine. We’ll probably have to utilize her a bit.”

“Doubt she'll complain.” Kyle says, looking out the window. “Be thrilled to have something to do besides work.”

You let out a quiet groan, shifting against the door. “Hurts.”

“I know, honey.” Christine says, carefully adjusting your left arm. “I’ll give you more pain meds once we get to the cottage.”

“We’ll be there in half an hour.” John says, glancing up at the rearview mirror again before turning his eyes back to the road.

The half hour seems to take the longest as you continue to become more and more lucid and aware. The pain sets in first, your brain picking up on those signals before anything else. John’s knuckles are white around the steering wheel as you begin to whine and whimper around every bend in the road and turn he has to make, every jostle of the car. Every instinct in his body tells him to pull over and comfort you, but he can’t. It’s more important to get to the cottage, and there’s no guarantee you’d even let him. It might make things worse.

The last thing you need right now is for things to get worse.

Christine breathes a sigh of relief as they pull up to the cottage, glad she can finally get you somewhere more comfortable. You’ve been in far too many uncomfortable positions today, moved around too much. She would have liked to keep you in Texas a couple more days, but she knew as soon as you were able to travel, the better. The sooner they could get off the grid, the better.

The sooner they could get out of Texas, the better.

Kyle is getting the wheelchair out of the trunk when Johnny and Simon pull up, not having been far behind. They likely took a turn around the back roads to ensure no one was following and to keep things from looking too suspicious.

Christine keeps you from slumping out of the car as she carefully opens the door on your side. You’re more awake than you were, blinking up at her with almost startlingly aware eyes.

“Crutch.” You pout when she pulls the wheelchair closer.

She gives you a look. “Honey I'm not sure you could even stand right now.” You may be more aware, but that doesn’t mean your body is working as it should.

You let out a defiant noise as you attempt to get your legs out of the car, trying to hide your grunts of pain and discomfort.

She's tempted to stand there and let you try, but she knows all hell will break loose if she lets you fall. She's not willing to take that risk, not to mention it will cause you more pain to get you up off the ground.

“Come on,” She says, stopping you before you can get your feet under you. “Nice and slow.”

You let out a quiet growl of indignation but you allow her to help you, your legs trembling as she eases you up. Kyle is there with the wheelchair, getting it as close to you as possible so she can sit you down quickly.

“Ow.” You breathe, eyes pinched closed as you breathe through the pain.

“I know.” She says, patting your good shoulder lightly. She's glad she put you in the sweatshirt before you left Texas. It's chilly outside, chillier than it was further inland a few days ago.

It's hard to believe it's only been a few days since you were taken. Barely even a week. So much happened in such a short period of time. It feels like it’s been weeks since everything started, but then again, it had been weeks since John and Kyle first left. It had been weeks since you had been around your whole pack together by the time you were taken. The deep depression you sunk into before the events of the last week had been draining you slowly for weeks before this. It had started before John and Kyle were deployed, back to that day when you revealed the cameras and the secret you had been hiding from them.

How long you’ve gone in such turmoil.

How far you still have to go.

The path up to the door is rocky and uneven, the wheelchair jostling as she pushes it up towards the door. She can picture your face, the way it has to be screwed up in pain. You're silent though, holding it all in. She almost wishes you weren't being silent about it.

The door is already open, light shining from inside as she approaches. Kyle is in the house already, having gone ahead to greet his sister. John is right behind the two of you as Christine turns to wheel you up the steps into the house. His eyes are on you, focused and ready should you fall.

Christine would never let you fall, and from the way your hand is gripping the arm of the chair for dear life, you probably couldn't anyway.

She wheels you through the entryway, the inside warmer thanks to a fire that's burning. It's a nice cottage, far nicer than she had been expecting judging from the outside.

Johnny lets out a low whistle as he enters behind John, looking around. “Yer parents own this?”

“It was given to our mum by our grandparents. They did some...renovations before they passed it on.” Kyle says.

“Yer tellin’ me.” Johnny says.

It looks new inside. New wood floors, freshly painted walls. The furniture looks like she would expect to find in an English seaside cottage, though. Kyle’s parents went to France for summer vacation instead of utilizing the cottage, and none of his siblings had wanted to use it, he told them. It looks almost perfect, like it came right out of a home renovation show. Kyle’s sister must have worked some sort of magic to get it this clean.

It is a very nice cottage. It’s small, the door opening right to the main area. There’s two couches and a chair in the middle of the room around a coffee table. To the left of the couches is a fireplace, the fire already lit and crackling. It looks original, likely having been untouched in the renovations. There’s a door to the left of the fireplace closer to the main entryway. A bedroom maybe? To the right of the front door are two doors, one on the far wall and one facing the front door.

The stairs are in the middle of the house, leading up to the second floor where there’s likely more bedrooms. On the far side of the main area is the dining area and beyond that is a sliding glass door. Around the corner on the far side of the stairs is likely the kitchen. She can see the fridge from where she’s standing. It’s new. Very new. Makes her wonder just how long ago it had been renovated.

“Everyone, this is my sister Ashley.” Kyle says, introducing the other woman in the room.

“Hello,” she says, giving everyone a wave and a dazzling smile.

She’s dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt, her medium box braids pulled up into a bun on top of her head. They look a lot alike, her and Kyle. Tall and slender and stunning. They have the same smile and the same soft brown eyes. She's wearing scent blockers, but Christine can imagine her having a soft scent like lavender or something fresh like mint.

“There's two rooms down here, and two upstairs.” Kyle says. “The main bedroom is through there.” He points towards a door to their left. “I figure we'll give that to our omega. The bathroom in there has a walk-in shower.”

“Perfect.” Christine says. That will make getting you in and out of the shower easier at least, and you won’t have to go far to use the bathroom.

“You should take the other room down here.” John says, looking at Christine. “So you can be close in case of an emergency.”

And so you don't have to be too close to them, so you won’t feel like they’re hovering.

He doesn't have to say that part out loud.

“I put new sheets on all the beds.” Ashley says. “I also picked up everything Kyle sent on the list. Food, some clothes, some other necessities.”

You let out a quiet groan, Christine patting your head gently. You have to be exhausted and sore after the day. She should give you another dose of pain medicine like she said she would. You’re going to need it tonight.

“Let's get you laying down for a bit.” She says, wheeling you towards the door.

Kyle opens it for her, revealing a spacious room with a big window looking out towards the sea. You're going to spend a lot of time in front of that window, she thinks. The bed is in the middle of the room, and there’s two chairs facing the window. She’s almost tempted to sit you in one of the chairs, but laying down will be more comfortable for you right now.

You're still too out of it now to care much as she wheels you to the double bed. With Kyle's help they get you horizontal, Christine draping the blanket at the end of the bed over you. It’s not very soft, but it will do for now. She’ll have to get the guys to pick up some soft blankets for you when they go to town. She has a whole list of things starting in her head she needs them to pick up.

She leans your crutch against the end of the bed just in case you might need it for an emergency. She hopes you’ll yell first, but you always have been stubborn. Being mostly bed-bound has only made that worse.

“I’m going to go look through the things Ashley picked up.” She says, patting your leg gently. “Get some rest.”

Christine leaves the door open a crack as she exits, wanting to give you a little privacy as you nap, or at least she hopes you’ll nap. It’s going to be a rough adjustment, and you’re going to need as much rest as you can get.

“I’m assuming you’re Christine.” Ashley says, walking up to her.

“I am.” She says, giving Ashley a smile.

She can’t help but get lost in Ashley’s soft gaze for a moment. The Garrick siblings seem to share the same magnetic energy. There’s something almost ethereal about them. She could easily imagine them with glowing halos and angel wings. It’s almost like she’s being blessed with the opportunity to look upon her. She could spend an hour staring at Ashley’s face and not grow tired of looking at her.

“I picked up the items Kyle said you needed.” She says, motioning to the bags on the coffee table, pulling Christine out of her daze. “I couldn’t find the exact nutrient powder you asked for, so I got one that was as close as I could find.”

Christine glances through the bags. She was thorough, getting at least two of everything.

“I got warmer clothes for her too, since it can get chilly out here this time of year. Just some simple things for now until you guys get into town.” Ashley says. “I did some research too and I read that omegas like comforting things so I picked up some extra blankets and pillows” Ashley says, motioning to a couple bags sitting on the couch. “I also picked up this,” She pulls a stuffed dog from one of the bags, holding it up. “It was the softest one I could find. I thought it might help.”

A small smile forms on Christine’s face, her heart fluttering in her chest from the sweet, thoughtful gesture. Ashley doesn’t even know you, nor did she know exactly what happened to you, and yet she went so far as to pick up some comfort items for you. You have nothing right now, only the borrowed clothes on your back. All of your belongings are still on base, all of the things that you had built to make your perfect nest. Would you want any of them still? Or have they been tainted by the events of the last few weeks?

That Ashley thought to do this has warmth flooding Christine’s body. You can have some comfort now without having to wait for their trip to town. She almost feels the urge to cry. She wants to hug Ashley, thank her over and over for her kindness. Ashley has no idea how much her small act of kindness means, how much it's going to mean.

A smile forms on Christine’s face as she stares at the stuffed dog. “It’s perfect.”

You can hear it.

In the distance, the quiet roar reaches your ears as you’re dragged from the sweet arms of sleep. It must be a dream, or perhaps the sedative is still clinging to your mind, making you imagine things.

No.

You’d know that sound anywhere.

The effort to push yourself up to sit is a momentous one, every cell in your body protesting after a day of being moved and jostled. The last thing you want is to move right now, but you have to.

The pain meds have done little to help.

The crutch at the end of your bed must be a thousand miles away as you sit there and stare at it. The ache in your body only increases as you become more and more aware of the pain, almost as if it can tell what it is your mind is planning.

The door is cracked open, letting in a slit of light from outside. It’s dark in the room, the curtains pulled over the window. It’s a blessing compared to the bright yellow light outside the door. You welcome the darkness as your head begins to throb. You could call for assistance. You’d get more help than you needed. More help than you want.

No.

You need to do this.

The effort it takes to get standing nearly sends you back onto the bed. The pain nearly blinds you as your feet touch the floor, your body leaning against the side of the mattress out of desperation. If you fall, you’ll never be alone again. You can’t afford that. You don’t want that.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

The breaths out of your nose are short and sharp as you reach for the crutch, fingers trembling in the effort to fight the pain threatening to blind you. You’re trembling like a leaf in a storm as your fingers finally wrap around the cool metal. The rubber bottom drags across the floor as you tug it over to you, holding it against your chest for a moment.

Breathe. That’s what you need to do. Breathe.

In and out.

Nice and slow.

The pain is only a memory. The pain is nothing. The memories forming at the edges of your mind will take over and wipe out the pain and the misery. You just have to be sure. You just have to be certain.

You push yourself upright using the crutch, tucking it under your arm. You should go back to bed. You should rest.

No.

You need to know.

You need to be certain.

The first step you take nearly makes you sick.

It’s like watching a baby deer walk for the first time, knees wobbling, feet shaking. You lean heavily on the crutch, your determination the only thing keeping you from tumbling to the floor in a heap. That might almost hurt worse than forcing yourself to stand upright.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Inch by inch you move across the floor, silently grateful for the socks on your feet. They allow you to slide across the hardwood, but they also pose a threat. Slide too far and you’ll lose your feet.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

The determination and your desire for certainty is what keeps you sliding inch by inch across the floor towards that strip of blinding light in front of you. It’s hovering before you, threatening you. How do you know there’s not one of them standing guard, waiting for you to try and leave? You can’t know. You don’t have a clue what’s waiting on the other side of that door. It could be nothing. It could be your entire pack.

Breathe.

In and out.

You take a moment at the door, resting your aching feet. Your body is throbbing from the effort to keep yourself upright, the sedative still numbing your brain and your movements. It’s like treading through honey, everything twice as hard as it should be. You can walk. You’ve done it before. You did it in the medical center.

You can do it here.

You use the crutch to push the door open more, your free arm still tucked in a sling to keep you from moving it. Reaching for it with that arm would have put you on the floor, would have caused more pain than you needed, would have made you fall.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Breathe.

The light burns. Explosions of yellows and whites erupt behind your eyelids as you screw them tight against the sudden onslaught. The sun is in the room, shining its rays directly into your sensitive eyes. Your stomach churns, your fingers tightening around the crutch so tight your knuckles begin to ache. The oppressive light makes you want to recede back into the darkness of the room behind you like a vampire shying away from the light of day.

No.

You won’t be defeated by the harsh artificial lighting. You need to know.

You need to be certain.

The others are moving around. You can hear voices around the corner, voices upstairs with thudding footsteps. The air is thick with a mesh of scents, cleaning chemicals, and the burn of scent blocker. Your nose wrinkles at the sudden onslaught against your senses, your sedated brain making it all seem so much worse.

You need to know.

The hardwood floors continue and you use them to your advantage as you shuffle your way across the main area. The fire crackles as you pass, the popping of a log making you startle. Your feet slide again, your body pushing up against the crutch to hold yourself steady.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Your target is dead ahead, a mile away but so close you can almost taste it. Just past the dining table and straight on till morning.

Despite your snail’s pace, no one seems to notice you shuffling your way across the house. It should make you upset, the fact that none of them notice you moving around, but instead it makes you glad. They’d try to stop you if they noticed you, turn you around and shuffle you back to bed. Or worse, they’d carry you.

How easily you could slip away, though.

Well...in theory.

Perhaps that’s why they ‘re not paying you any mind. How far could you really go in your current state?

Why would you want to stray from the only safe space you have?

The world outside is more dangerous with the state you’re in. Not just because of your injuries and your status, but also because you know Shepherd is still out there, and for all you know Graves is as well.

He could be waiting right outside the door.

No.

They’d know.

They’d protect you.

They failed.

You push past the fear in favor of certainty as you push forward, passing the dining table in your slow crawl towards the sliding glass door.

It poses an entirely new threat as you stand before it, staring out the darkened glass. You have to get it open. Getting it open takes strength and you’re down to one hand that’s trying to keep you upright.

You have to know.

You have to be certain.

You lean your weight on the crutch, ignoring the way it digs into your armpit as you reach for the handle. You click the lock, wrapping your fingers around the plastic before pulling. Your body screams with pain as you tug, the door sliding in the track as slowly as you had moved across the small living area. It’s almost as if it's mocking you.

It’s open only as wide as you need to crutch your way through, doing your best not to knock your left shoulder against the frame.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Breathe.

You can smell it.

The salty sea air invades your senses, slipping up through your nose and straight into your brain. Memories come flooding back of childhood vacations back when things were simpler. Back when nothing mattered but the sand and the water and avoiding getting chased by your brothers carrying the piece of seaweed they found.

Polkadot bathing suits, bright red to be seen easily. Toes in the water, sand everywhere. The nap in the silent car home.

How simple life was back then. How easy life was.

Your heart aches for those days again. The days when you could exist without a care in the world, trusting your pack would keep you safe, trusting your family would care for you. Your mind yearns for that sense of safety and security again.

The world is grey as you hobble across the porch, the grey seeming to go on forever. You missed it, the chill in the air, the gloomy grey overhead. How you yearned for the gloom of England while stuck in the heat of Texas.

Anything is better than Texas.

Your forward shuffle pauses at the edge of the deck, your eyes looking out into the grey. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare out into the distance, the ache in your chest intensifying. It blocks out the pain in your body, numbing you to everything else as you stand there, legs trembling from the effort of going the short distance from your room to the end of the porch.

You can see it.

Emotions swirl inside of you like a hurricane as you stare out where the grey water meets the grey sky in the line of the horizon. Those emotions threaten to choke you as you stand there trembling at the edge of the porch. There’s a breeze, a cold one that bites through the fabric of your sweatshirt and into the skin below, but you don’t care.

You can’t care.

Your legs shake from the exertion, the neverending exhaustion that’s settled deep into your bones. It’s not just a physical exhaustion, but a mental one as well. It’s been a long week.

Only a week.

So much has happened in a week.

You want to sit. You want to sink down onto the porch and rest.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

There’s a pain in your chest as your breath catches in your throat. The emotions are whirling, tightening around your chest, squeezing your lungs until they feel like they might pop.

Breathe.

In and out.

You needed certainty. You needed to know.

You can hear it. You can smell it. You can see it.

A single tear rolls down your cheek as you stare out at the sea.

NEXT ->

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

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sweetnans · 4 months ago

Note

So I imagine a Reader and Bakugo are neighbours and their parents are friends so she’s known him since they were children but he dosent really care— anyways going to the future, reader confessed to Bakugo in middle school however since he dossnt get much attention from girls since they always ignore him he didnt know what to do and just reject her harshly, little did he know he started to develop feelings and it got worse when they both moved to UA💀. To make it worse reader made friends with Izuku lmao,,,

How do you think he would handle the crush thing and treat the reader before and after the war?

Before the war, he would definitely be super distant with Reader. Besides, Bakugo is the kind of guy who doesn't comprehend his feelings very well, so that leads him to suppress them until he explodes. Once he realizes he can't hold them anymore, he starts taking care of Reader in a super subtle way, like he makes sure she's good, she has eaten, that she doesn't strain herself too much on training, that she doesn't have any problem with tests and her assigments but if you think that if she has those problems he would approach her? You're wrong. If she's bad at training, he would send kirishima to train with her saying something very harsh like: "That loser can't fight for shit," and Kirishima would scold at him saying back: "that's not very cool, bro" and he would go and help you. He knows his people, so he knows how to play them.

After war, he realizes that everything can end in a second. After he dies and miraculously revives, he has a new vision of the world. He has a new vision of Deku, of his friends, of his family, and of course you. He needs to make amends.

Everyone is in delicate state after the war, physical injuries, and mental injuries. Every single person he knows is battleling with PTSD including you. After you heard him that he died and the tragic news spread almost as fast as the news of Todoroki taking down his own brother, you felt something breaking inside your chest. Your heart was ripped in two.

You knew that confessing your love to him wasn't very clever of you, and because of his response (or the lack of it), you thought that it'd be easier for you to forget him. You wished your feelings would be gone when you entered UA. But, just because the world hates you, they were still there, and even worse, they intensified.

So when you heard he had died and then revived, you decided to take a leap of faith and let your feelings be.

After the tumultuous end of the war, you haven't seen much of your classmates. Everyone was at home, including you, trying to heal wounds and getting a well-deserved rest.

You were admiring the ceiling of your room when a faint knock on your door snapped you out of your trance.

What you saw was like a mirage. Not even in your craziest dreams would you believe that this would ever happen to you.

"Are you busy or something?" He asks, taking a peak in between the door and the frame.

You are now sitting at the edge of the bed, shaking your head without talking.

"Then what are you waiting for? Come with me, " he huffs like it is the most obvious thing to do.

You two walked together to a nearby park where you used to play with Izuku when you were kids. He guided you to the swings, taking the one on the left, leading you to sit on the right.

The silence is heavy but no awkward.

"Are you feeling okay, now?" You ask, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," he says in a sigh.

You grab the chains of your swing and play with your feet until you reach some sort of rhythm that keep you swinging.

"I know you're wondering why I brought you here," he imitates you moving at the same tandem.

"I mean, we haven't been here since we were kids...is this some sort of reunion I'm not aware of? Is izuku coming too?" You ask with enthusiasm.

That was the thing with you, after you two kinda fell apart and took differents paths, you stayed with Izuku, you kept being his friend and that boiled Bakugo in a way that, in the past, he didn't understand. But now, everything was different. Now he understands that you needed Izuku and Izuku needed you.

"No. Just you and me, " he says. And he prays that in the near future it could stay like that.

"Oh," it is the only thing that comes out of your mouth.

Again, the silence.

In your skin, you could feel how he was fidgeting and turning every gear in his brain to say something, but Bakugo wasn't good at words.

"Okay, I'm gonna say it anyways," both his feet stop in the ground, doing a screeching sound that has you stopping your swinging too. "I was an asshole. I'm still an asshole I think, but I want to make this right. I apologized to Izuku, now you're next, so you're gonna listen to what I have to say. That day when you said those things to me and I made fun of you? I was wrong because since that day I can't get you out of my mind. I tried to, but I never could. Then everything was shit timing, and I didn't have the time to tell you this, but now, seeing what can happen I'm done fucking everything up. I'm sorry. I know I mistreated you, you didn't deserve that, and I'm sorry I did everything wrong"

The way he said that, like he was verbally puking on the ground, got you breathing like the air was limited. The first thought in your mind when he appeared at your bedroom door was that you were dreaming, and now you needed somebody to actually pinch you because you weren't understanding anything.

"Say something," he partly begs and grunts.

"What can I say? You appeared out of nothing, then dragged me here to say what I've been waiting to hear for like two years, and I've been picturing this in my mind for those years and in every scenario I know what I'm going to say but now I'm completely empty, nothing comes to my mind" you murmur more to yourself than him.

He was stoic. He didn't remember a time when he spoke that much to you, so he felt like it was the first time he had heard your voice in decades.

"In those scenarios, you cursed me?" He asks.

"Oh boy, I cursed you in languages that don't even exist." There's a mixture between a sigh and a laugh that erupts from inside of you, melancholy, you could tell, looking to the sky being the exact opposite of what you feel. Bright and blue, perfectly clear.

"Do you want to do it? I mean, I can take it without spatting back, " he shrugs nonchalantly. You raise both of your brows at him. "What? I can do that!"

"Sure," you say sarcastically. "So, that's it? You came here to say sorry? I accept your apologies"

You were being honest with him. There wasn't any bad blood between you two, and after what happened, you really wished that you two could get along again like old times.

Bakugo felt the same. He still had mixed feelings about you. Everything that happened made him realize how short life can be and how he shouldn't be wasting any more opportunities. He was about to verbalize that when he felt your hand on top of his.

"I hope we can be friends" you say.

Your smile is bright, and your eyes are sincere. And for the first time, he smiles at you, hoping and wondering that you could be more than just friends.

#mha x reader #bakugo x reader #my hero academia #bnha bakugou #bakugo headcanons #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #my hero academy fanfiction #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader

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endless-ineffabilities · 7 months ago

Text

The Bolter (part five)

Steve Rogers x f!reader / (Bucky Barnes x f!reader)

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : In present day, the reader and Bucky get closer - will one of them finally slip up? We also see what happened in 2018, during the battle in Wakanda.

themes/warnings : pining, unrequited love, Bucky dealing with ptsd, brief mention of violence, language

word count : 2.1k

main masterlist ▪︎ series masterlist

📝 a little bit of an explanation on the timeline : 2016 - Civil War ▪︎ 2017 - post Civil War / Steve and reader on the run ▪︎ early 2018 - Infinity War ▪︎ 2018 to 2023 - the lost years / post-snap ▪︎ late 2023 - Endgame / Steve's departure ▪︎ 2024 - present day / Falcon and the Winter Soldier period ▪︎ 1950s - where Steve went back

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

You win. Again.

By now, you're convinced Bucky is actually letting you win in Battleship. Each guess he made had been wrong, so it must be deliberate.

"James Buchanan Barnes," you sigh.

His lips form a sly smirk. He isn't even trying to deny it.

You reach across and lightly shove his non-vibranium arm. "It's no fun if there's no challenge."

He shrugs, "Maybe I like the way you react when you win. You get so... expressive." Another smirk. Damn him.

What could possibly be so amusing about the way you practically screeched and stuck your tongue at him the first time you won?

"Yeah, but you let me win four times in a row."

"Deal with it, doll."

"You suck."

He grimaces, "Suck?"

Right. You keep forgetting he is an very old, very ancient centenarian.

"It's an expression."

Something flashes across his face, and you can't really make out what it is. "Do you suck, too?"

"What?" you exclaim. "I just said it's an expression. It means you're annoying."

He holds your gaze for a moment, before laughing, eyes visibly crinkling at the corners. "I'm messing with you, doll. I know what that means. I'm old, not unaware."

Damn him again.

And damn the way the rare instances of his laughter is slowly growing to be a thing you yearn for. Bucky has a playful side, you've come to realize. You get this feeling of lightness, because you're proud of him. The more it comes out, the more it shows how much he has healed.

You blink at him, shaking your head, before bursting into laughter yourself.

Damn it all to hell.

It takes a beat for you to collect yourselves.

Then for a second, it's there. That fleeting shift in his expression. A pinch in his eyebrows giving way to a look of shame. Just for a moment, his mind drifts back to the long list of names in his notebook. To Yori's son. To the crimson in his ledger.

You notice, and you don't hesitate in taking his hand, squeezing gently. "Hey," you say, catching his attention. "I'm glad we get to do this."

I'm glad I have you.

Glancing down at your hand wrapped around his, he smiles, slowly, like a sun rising and casting its glow over the horizon.

"Let's play one more time," Bucky says as he begins rearranging the pieces on his side.

You were about to protest, but then he adds, "I won't let you win, I swear."

Fifteen minutes later, you do indeed win again. He laughs at the incredulous expression that must be plastered on your face.

You take it. Because maybe you did win, fair and square.

Or maybe because his laughter feels like winning.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The days have blurred into weeks and into months.

It feels like time is passing quickly, every second feels less and less like the lash of a whip, reminding Bucky of past pains. Of loss. Of all his sins.

Life almost feels normal. The kind of normal he is afforded in his life, at least.

Sessions with his court-mandated therapist. You. Dinners with Yori, desperately unable to tell him the truth. You. Sleepless nights, glimpses of his darkness haunting him. You. Sleepless nights, tempting images of you.

Behind all the laughter and the times you would spend playing Battleship on the floor of his barely furnished apartment, Bucky gets a sense of something gnawing at him. Something not unfamiliar, but unwelcome all the while.

It's fear. He has something to lose, once more. A friend or a kindred spirit. Whatever else you will find in each other. It's there and it's real, and it makes him feel like Bucky again.

He doesn't want to lose it, whatever it is. He's already lost Steve.

He's not going to lose you too.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

early 2018, Infinity War

After you and Steve left the cabin, it's like the universe was sent a go-ahead signal of some sort.

The world slowly descended into chaos, and the Avengers were needed back into the fold.

Your group had to rush to Scotland to rescue Wanda and Vision. Then it was back to the Avengers compound.

"You think all is forgiven?" Senator Ross asked, the threat evident in his tone. "You think you can just walk back in here like nothing happened? Romanoff has been leading my team on some wild goose chase - "

Natasha merely scoffs, unamused.

" - and Huntress has been actively aiding and abetting her fellow fugitives around the globe."

You were about to say something snarky, but Steve had already taken a step forward, partially shielding you from Ross' view.

"We're not looking for forgiveness, and we're way past asking permission," Steve declared.

In that time, life became drastically different from your days in Alaska. You barely had a moment of repose, worried about the fate of the world.

But you found comfort in the blonde super soldier who was constantly hovering over you. His eyes would meet yours before a decision would be made. His hand sometimes pressed at the small of your back as you walked beside him. Time and again, you found him watching you, a silent question in his eyes. You'd nod back, I'm okay.

You didn't notice, but in one of those moments, Wanda had witnessed the exchange.

And she felt it. That something. Much like what she has with Vision.

But it just wasn't the right time.

It is a bit hard to face the truth that you might be in love when the whole world is burning.

"I guess this is our normal, after all," you wistfully remarked to him one evening, after everyone else had left. The plans were laid. You all were to go to Wakanda the next day.

Steve felt a sense of bitterness arising from him upon hearing your words. It really isn't fair. He has always done everything right, but he's losing count of how many joys he's had to sacrifice.

He lost everyone once. His mom, his sister, Bucky, his fellow soldiers, Dr. Erskine, Peggy. He'd buried himself in ice, only to wake up again in a world that wasn't his anymore.

What else does he have to lose, who else, before he is finally allowed to be happy?

His smile was pained when he replied, "I think I figured out the kind of normal I want."

Despite your exhaustion, you smiled back and curiously asked, "Oh yeah?"

Steve hopelessly tried to commit you to memory. The lilt in your voice, the shape of your lips. That undying spark in your eyes, which remained even when everything was cast in gloom.

Just in case he would wake up one day and find his whole world taken from him once more.

"Yeah," he finally said.

The world is ablaze, but he's grown used to it. He knew he would lay his life down on the line again if that means it would be saved.

But everything be damned, he allowed himself one selfish thought when he confessed, "We never should have left that cabin."

I'm in love with you, were the words caught in his throat. His heart screamed it, yearning to be heard.

And you did.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It was a cruel twist of fate. But Thanos deemed it destiny.

Was it always meant to happen? Were they always meant to lose?

Steve didn't know how long he stayed on the ground next to the pile of ashes that used to be his best friend.

Bucky was gone.

Steve barely heard the screams. Anguished voices calling out the names of their friends, still searching.

All that would have been unbearable. The sounds of distress enough to drive one mad. But Steve heard nothing. He had nothing.

It's not fair. Inside, he felt like that sickly kid who was always dealt the worst hand. It does feel like he's a kid again, petulant and angry. It's not fair, he thought over and over, I don't deserve this.

Bring Bucky back to me.

Maybe it was all his fault. Maybe if he never took that damned serum... maybe... maybe...

"Cap," he heard someone break him out of his haze. Rhodey stood to the side. "Steve," he repeated, pleading, but Steve still could not find the strength to get up.

Then from the distance, he heard Natasha calling out for you. He stumbled to his feet, his head spinning. Casting one last glance at the spot where Bucky vanished, he turned and started running.

He found Natasha immediately, but not you.

"Where is she?" Steve growled, and his voice sounded rougher than he's ever heard before. Natasha would have recoiled in surprise, if she didn't possess nerves of steel.

"I'm looking," Natasha snapped impatiently. You would have been her loss too.

Steve felt as if he had already scoured through the whole field twice, his body threatening to just give in and crumble to the ground once more, as the hope of finding you dimmed.

Then he heard your faint voice, weak and weary, standing out among all the others.

"Steve?" There you stood, your face half-covered in dried blood and soot. "Did we lose?"

He swiveled around and took you in, a deep breath of helpless relief exiting his lungs. He was angry and defeated.

He wanted to throw Captain America to the wind, and surrender everything.

He wanted to hear his mother's voice singing to him again. This world is cruel, and he wanted to go back home.

But there you were.

There you were, and Steve knew he had not lost everything.

"How did it happen?" you asked as he approached. "Steve, what do we do? There must be something - "

His mouth crashes into yours with such bruising intensity that it makes you stumble backward, but his arms were quick to catch you.

He was right.

You never should have left that cabin.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

The nightmare is different.

It's worse. Much worse.

Bucky bolts upright on the floor of his living room, having chosen to bypass the comfort of his bedroom. He thinks this is because he needs to keep his TV on in the background, something to muffle the noise in his mind late at night.

Another reason, one he hasn't confronted yet, is how comfort feels so foreign. It feels wrong, like he doesn't deserve it.

Perhaps that is why he can't find comfort even in his dreams.

It flashes before his eyes, like a broken montage.

It's almost the same every time. He's the Winter Soldier. He's on a mission. There are faces swarming around him, bodies either racing to attack or running away. But he doesn't see any of them. He doesn't feel anything as he makes every single one of them crumble.

But it's different this time. The Winter Soldier does not so much as falter or show any hesitation as he wraps his metal fingers around your windpipe.

The Winter Soldier coldly watches as you expire. Bucky helplessly watches, unable to stop as he loses everything.

Thankfully awake, in this world where he still has you, Bucky's chest feels like it's about to implode.

So much for being a superabled freak.

The clock reads 3:13. It's late, but he needs some air.

He walks for 10 minutes, aimlessly. Then for 20 more, his mind having made a decision on its own. He soon finds himself standing in front of a familiar brownstone building, where your apartment is situated on the top floor.

You don't seem confused when you answer the buzzer. It wouldn't be the first time he has shown up unannounced.

"Can't sleep either?" You're a welcome vision when you greet him at the door, cheeks flushed by the white wine you usually drink at these hours.

She's still here, Bucky reminds himself. The only comfort that he won't deny.

Instead of walking past you, straight into your apartment like he always does, he takes one step closer.

And then another.

He shuts the door behind him.

You watch him carefully, scanning his every movement. There's something here, something different. He takes another step and he has you pressed against the wall.

His eyes betray the storm of emotion brewing inside. He has to remind himself that you're here, and he has you.

"Bucky," you whisper, and it's all he needs.

He leans in and finally touches his lips to yours.

Read part six here ~

taglist (let me know if you wish to be added!) : @vicmc624 @littleliyah16 @babezawa @klammykayla @justsebstan @blue--ingenue @numblytemporary @bradshawass @delicious-xx @mrsevans90 @heartarianagran @tinystarfishgalaxy @kyoquixote @mochibochinochi @spngingerbread21 @zbeez-outlet @rena15 @raging-panda @marveldaydreamer @integers @torntaltos @imthebadguyyy @iidear @blackhawkfanatic @smhnxdiii

My emotions!!!!!! Hahahaha this chapter is a whole mess and so are our protagonists 🔪🫀

yes yes, expect that the next one is 18+ --- but I still won't say exactly with who --- maybe it's a trick? Maybe it's neither of them? Oh well, honestly some of you have got it bang on already 🤷🏻‍♀️

As always, I am keen to hear what you guys think!!

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #mcu #the avengers #chris evans #sebastian stan #the bolter

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curtsycream · 10 months ago

Note

I apologize if the request makes no sense this is only my second one. You don't have to do this, but I was wondering if you could do a one shot of TF141 x fem!child reader (6 y/o&platonic) where they are on a mission in an abandoned city and they find the reader stuck in one of the buildings with the bodies of her dead parents and no way to escape the building without help. How would they get her out of there? Would Gaz and sope step up to comfort her? How would ghost deal with the child given his past? What would happen after they healed? Would price decide to adopt them as TF141's daughter?

Their Daughter

Platonic!TF141 x Fem!Child Reader

I hope you enjoy this I kind of got carried away, I hope it’s to your liking. Also not proofread I really suck at that sometimes. It makes perfect sense to me don’t worry!

It would be Gaz that finds you first when they’re scoping out the buildings for any signs of life. The second he takes you in he felt sick to his stomach noticing who you were laying between. Gaz would try his best to get you out alone, it isn’t protocol but he tries without thinking. That is until he realizes what he as to do and uses his comms to call over the rest of 141.

I’d like to think that they have a code word for when it involves something as devastating as this. In which Ghost would stick back unless absolutely needed. It’s mostly a precaution just in case seeing the scene triggers his PTSD.

But luckily he doesn’t need to see that unfold as Price and Soap are just as capable of helping. The three men would carefully examine the situation before deciding what to do. It wouldn’t be long before they get you out of there. With Price and Soap raising a few support beams for Gaz to crawl under and pull you free.

When you’re finally free it seems you don’t react to what is happening. Which is normal sometimes there are mental delays when it comes to experiencing something so traumatic.

But even when you’re still in shock Soap speak calmly to you trying to make sure you’re okay. “how’re you, lass?” His gentle voice comforting causing you to lean into it.

When you weren’t in Soap’s arms you would be in Gaz’s both men taking turns. A hint of attachment due to what you seemed to go through. But honestly you weren’t complaining your mind was off of the situation.

At first when Soap explains what happened and why he had to stay back. Ghost would keep his distance from you not because he didn’t like you. But because he didn’t want to break down around you. He didn’t cry often, at least publicly, but he knew he would when looking at someone so young who had already went through so much.

Your injuries from the accident left you in a leg splint with minor bruising on the rest of your body. Luckily they got you out in time as you were close to passing out from a lack of oxygen. The tiny space you were stuck in between your parents was close to falling by the time Gaz found you.

While you healed you would get visited by Gaz and Soap at least two times a day. Price would stop by at night to read you a bedtime story. It was his way of showing he cared about your situation. His care was paternal in nature, he always made sure the doctor was doing his job right. Any time you had the slightest look of discomfort on your face he would address the doctor. “Are you sure you’re doing that right? Can’t you see she’s in pain?” He always meant well of course.

The only person who didn’t visit you was Ghost at least to your knowledge. He would always visit when Price left at times when you would sleep. He never stepped foot in the hospital room only looked through the glass window.

When you were finally released from the hospital you found out quickly that Price meant business. The 6 months you were in the hospital he was working and fighting for custody over you. You had no other living relatives but it was a bit of a struggle since you were from a different country. Though with what seemed like pure luck he was able to adopt you.

While they were deployed you stayed on base in your own room. It was located right beside Price’s which you were okay with.

Ghost didn’t speak to you until one night when he was walking down the hall. He heard the sounds of screams alerting him. He realized they were coming from your bedroom. Something clicked in his mind as he rushed in without hesitation. The sight of you wringing around in bed with tears streaming down your cheeks hurt him emotionally.

Due to his experience with his own nightmares he stepped closer to you. Sitting on your bed he gently woke you up making sure not to startle you. When you were up he allowed you to cling to him as he held you close. The two of you sitting there in the comforting silence. From that night forward Ghost couldn’t see himself straying too far from your aid.

From the second they met you, you were their daughter even if it was only legal on Price’s end. When they were on missions you were in the care of Laswell at times. The station chief didn’t mind she liked spending time with you.

When they weren’t on missions and had time to go back home they made a change. It only made since to be nearby so that you could actively see Soap, Gaz, and Ghost. They may have decided to invest in a house big enough for all five of you. These men are passionate about those they love and you’re like are a daughter to them.

During there time off they don’t waste a second giving you any and everything you want. From movie nights to family game nights.

As you get older and start school they make sure it’s somewhere close to where they can travel between the base and home. You’re a military kid, but don’t worry you don’t change schools often.

You tend to go to Soap for stress relief as he knows how to cheer you up with ease. Ghost is someone you go to when it comes to your nightmares and worries as he makes sure to give you the best advice. Sometimes the best advice is none in his opinion though. Gaz is who you stick to a lot for comfort he gives the best hugs and cuddles. While Price is the one you look to for protection, not that you don’t with all of them, it’s just he’s your central father figure.

You never have much to worry about with them behind you.

#x reader #fluff #tf141 #tf 141 x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #child!reader #fluffy headcanons #platonic!tf141

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alasse-earfalas · 5 months ago

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Time's more serious about everything because he's been traumatized by his adventures.

I don't know if I'm going to be able to explain this properly because it's late but gosh dangit I'm gonna try.

The P in PTSD is there for a reason. The repercussions of trauma don't fully hit until sometime after the life-threatening situation is over. Depending on the duration and severity of the traumatic event/s, this can take years to happen, and decades to heal from.

The rest of the boys are still relatively young and haven't spent too much time "out of the action", as it were. Time still works for the Royal Family, sure, but he's mostly settled down and left that old, adventuring life behind him. He's grown out of his adventure-seeking youth (or maybe something happened with the FD mask???) and all he wants to do now is live on a farm and be with his wife.

Meanwhile, the rest of the boys are relatively fresh of their adventures. Even the older ones are still in their hot-blooded youth; despite all the action they've seen, they're still ready for more. They're all still in "hero-ing mode". They haven't reached the P in PTSD yet.

But Time has. And he reached it at a much younger age than the rest of them will.

Time's mandatory heroic adventures started and ended as a young child. On top of that, his adventures were among if not the creepiest: skulltula house, Dampe, the forest/well/jabu's belly/shadow temples, Majora, dead hands. Add to that being forced back and forth through puberty multiple times, and the guilt of opening the sacred realm for Gannondorf, then having to frantically clean up his own mess, all at the tender age of nine... only to be sent back to a time where no one even remembers what he's done and he can't go home. (Don't even get me started on the events of Majora's Mask.)

Time is traumatized. And he's being forced back into the kind of environment that brought about that trauma. He's not going to break, because he's a Link, and therefore cannot break by definition, but don't expect him to be as jovial and lighthearted about everything as his younger companions.

He has returned to his own personal hell—the one he thought he'd left far behind him.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu time #lu analysis #gosh I hope this makes sense #it is late and I am tired and there's still another post I wanna make #it's fanfic-related #but maybe I should just go to bed instead #I've got places to be tomorrow

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thelikesofus · 8 months ago

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Buddie Fic Recs

This is my 5th Buddie Rec List! I started compiling this list last April and omg looking back through them now I desperately need to reread them all. Highly recommend all of these fics, also please show the authors some love in their comments xx Happy Easter lovelies <3 REMINDER TO CHECK THE TAGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS

where our eyes are never closing by @rewritetheending | T | 6k

After the lightning strike, Buck asks Eddie to take candid photos of him to help prove to Buck that he still exists. Absolute PEAK Softness. Buck through Eddie's eyes! I was a mushy puddle by the end. 10/10 would recommend.

i got all my sisters with me by @useramor | T | 6k

Established relationship Buddie. Eddie’s sister has a baby and they travel down to Texas to meet the baby. DIAZ SIBLINGS UNITE! Seriously though the sibling dynamic in this is off the charts and Buck and Eddie are sickeningly in love, it is quite beautiful.

meet me where the tide comes in by @iinryer | G | 4k

A 3+1 fic about Eddie getting kissed on the head. FOREHEAD KISSES PTSD MORE HEAD KISSES AND BOYS IN LOVE!! Need I say anything more??

The one where Buck gets turned into a dog by @911onabc | G | 9k

Law Suit era BUT WAIT WAIT….DOG BUCK!! I am a sucker for fic where one of them gets turned into an animal. They are much more free with their affection when they think it's just a dog, or just a cat, and the bond between Eddie and "Boy" is so so wonderful. And I do love a happy ending xx

can't do this anymore (do it anyway) by @chronicowboy | T | 2k

Short and sweet but GOD this packs a punch. Eddie starts dating after the lightning strike and Buck is feeling Big Bad about it. He is so sad it truly breaks my heart but all works itself out in the end and Eddie proves Buck’s fears wrong.

We Found Each Other (Over There) by @thekristen999 | T | 46k

Buddie WWII AU. A combat medic and a G.I. meet during one of the world’s greatest battles. This fic is a legitimate masterpiece. I cannot describe to you the quality of this fic because it is beyond words but I will tell you I stayed up until 3:30 am to finish it in one sitting and was left broken but made so so whole again.

the mortifying ordeal of being known by @the-amber-raven | G | 60k

AU where Bobby is Buck’s adoptive Dad and Eddie is dating Buck but Eddie and Bobby think they are talking about two different people. Buck is training at the fire academy but hiding it from Bobby. This fic is the most beautiful tangle of miscommunication, love and family.

like all good things are by @try-set-me-on-fire | T | 7k

Perfect, amazing, soul-destroying, magical, healing Fic. This literally covers all the bases. Chim and Bobby both get injured. OH! and Buck and Eddie were secretly dating all along. READ THIS FIC PEEPS!

find a way to you (if it kills me) by @eddiediazes | M | 19k

The one where Eddie decides to start dating again, Buck figures out his own feelings just a minute too late, and then he spends a week going through the five stages of grief. BUCK PINING LV.10000000!

and i’d choose you (in a hundred lifetimes) by @monsterrae1 | E | 16k

Amnesia Exes fic by the wonderful Rae. Buck and Eddie fall in love via a penpal program and then Buck vanishes. This fic is set four years later. I literally could not put it down. I was reading it in class and then sat in my car for who knows how long just to finish it because I could not continue my day without knowing how it ended.

he never thinks of me (except when i'm on TV) by @loserdiaz | M | 18k

APRIL'S FAMOUS!BUCK AND ARMY!EDDIE FIC!! In which Eddie finds out years later that his unrequited feelings for his high school best friend were not actually unrequited, Buck is stupidly famous now and they pine. OH THEY PINNNEEEEE! It’s delicious.

every time we stop talking (the universe starts screaming) by @chronicowboy | M | 21k

Alternative S7, Buddie Divorce Era Pt.2. Buck does something reckless and Eddie gets angry about it but these boys cannot communicate effectively to save their lives! This fic is peak angst to a happy ending and I felt like I had a hole in my chest OMG.

left your mark on this heart by @chronicowboy | G | 5k

Buck gets medically diagnosed with butterflies and the doctor makes him write in a notebook every time it happens. Surprise, surprise, the cause and effect is Eddie-related. The notebook entries kill me in the best way, the happiest happy ending

ALSO, YES THIS IS THE THIRD FIC BY THE SAME AUTHOR ON THIS LIST WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT?? READ IT IS WHAT! COS THEY'RE SO DAMN GOOD.

endless numbered days by @cal-daisies-and-briars | G | 13k

Buck and Eddie's wedding but from Bobby's POV as Bobby reflects on the family he lost and the one he gained. Absolutely beautiful, I cried.

don’t wanna let you love somebody else but me by @shitouttabuck | T | 14k

Chris wants dating advice so obviously Buck and Eddie decide to Fake Date for research purposes. This fic is PEAK adorable, sappy, and awkward Buddie. They’re idiots but we love them and the certainly love each other. READ THIS FIC!

#buddie #buddie fic recs #buddie fic rec list 5 #buck x eddie #eddie diaz #evan 'buck' buckley #911 #911 fic recs #meegs rec list

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i-cant-sing · 11 months ago

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I feel so nauseous that I can't study, but all I can think about is friends with benefits Dabi and reader just sitting on the couch late at midnight, after sleeping together, are just basking in the dim yellow lights of the apartment. Everything is quiet, they're eating some leftovers, a crappy romcom movie is playing in the background.

Dabi swears to himself that youre nothing more than just stress relief for him, but everytime he comes over, he stays a little longer after. He doesn't have to, you don't make him, but... he just can't help being in your presence longer. Something inside him heals bit by bit when you laugh- no, let out an ugly snort before leaning against his shoulder, the warm yellow lights caressing your face, your dishevelled hair becoming an even more untamed mess when you run up to the kitchen to get the last serving.

You must feel it too... the way your hands always manage to find his hands, his cheeks, find him. Your soft skin against his rough one.

"You should use some vaseline."

You said, a cheeky smile on your face as you laid on the couch, your feet resting on his lap as he smoked a cigarette, looking at you with unamused eyes.

"It'll make your skin soft overnight." You added.

Dabi took a long drag before exhaling the smoke. "You should learn how to cook."

"Hm?"

"Your food tastes like crap." He lied, placing the cigarette back to his lips.

"Then whyd you eat half the pan of lasagna?" You asked before using your toes to pull the cigarette away from him, making him narrow his eyes at you.

"To save you from eating your own poisonous food."

"Hmm, well that isn't the meal you come here to devour anyways." You giggle before pulling your feet away. He almost pulled them back- almost.

"Stop with the cringe." He closed his eyes, a small smile played on his lips. "Should've cut your cable off. They're a bad influence on you."

You rolled your eyes before getting up, walking towards the bathroom. "Just let me know when you're coming next time. I'll try to cook something good for his Majesty." You said as you turned on the shower. "Or better yet, bring the groceries in, and I'll cook."

He glanced in your direction, where you were taking off your clothes.

Should he join you? Could he-?

No.

Dabi hadn't called again as he arrived by your place. But it looked like you already anticipated his arrival, from the note you had placed on the fridge for him to find.

"Gone out for groceries for your hungry ass. Be back soon.

Love, Y/n."

Love, Y/n.

Why did 2 words make his heart bloom? For sure, this isn't a panic attack or PTSD he's experiencing... maybe it is... love?

Dabi sat on your couch, closing his eyes as he lit another cigarette to calm his nerves. He needed it for what he about to do, as he pulled put the small box from his pocket.

He never bought groceries. But he had bought something else.

A ring.

He's sure about you, sure about his feelings for you, pretty sure your feelings for him are mutual too. He doesn't need to formally date you... you two are different. You don't need the usual courtship stiff with him, although he wouldn't be opposed to the idea after marriage.

Marriage. Was he even husband material? You were certainly wife material, the food you cooked, the maternal side he caught a glimpse of when kids came by your door for Halloween, all the soft touches you give him.

You're ready, he's ready too.

And if you say no, if you don't agree, then that's that. He'll stop coming by, and you'll move on too. Just like he will... right?

It's been hours. You're still not home and you're not picking up either.

Something is wrong.

He left your apartment and went towards the market you'd frequented. There was a lot of commotion outside the store, with people gathering around a particular spot. He pushed past them, heart beating fast as he hoped it wasn't you. It wasn't you-

There was red. Red on the concrete, red on the bag of groceries spilled all over, red on the white coat you owned, red on the leather bag he had gifted you on your birthday.

It can't be you-

"Young Y/n frequented the store so often. She was a beautiful lady, so kind." Someone said from behind him.

Was? No, no you couldn't he dead-

"And to have gone in such a horrible way too. The drunk driver just drove away. She hit her head on the pavement too. I overhead one of the paramedics say she died on impact!" Someone gasped beside him, but his eyes were focused on the sight in front of him.

Everything's red. Red red red red-

Dabi ran towards the nearest hospital, his ring lying in the pile of blood on the concrete.

As he rushed towards the hospital, a voice deep inside him said something that he'll regret forever.

I should've gotten groceries.

#yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #yandere bnha #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines

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utterlyotterlyx · 5 months ago

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The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Thirteen

Summary - A Queen is born.

Warnings - depression, torture, ptsd, fluff, the found family *crying*, sadness, some mentions of death

*Not fully proof read so don’t come at me 🥺

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve

Eris couldn't sleep.

The first night he had take you to bed, he had expected to be up all hours of the night comforting you, convinced that what had happened to you would wrap around your mind and continue to torture you. But you had slept peacefully.

Soft snores sounded from your lips, your eyes were closed, and not even for a moment did a flash of pain rip across your angelic features.

Nesta had suggested that it must have been the exhaustion, that after the adrenaline had worn off, all that was left inside of you was a pit of weariness that would never be satiated.

So they all stayed awake, waiting for the moment when your withered soul would let in the pain, and part of Eris hoped for it despite knowing how awful it sounded. He just wanted you to feel safe, to get better, and he knew better than anyone that the road of healing came with a steep price attached to it.

Four days passed. Four days of a quiet manor, so quiet because none of them wanted to wake you or move you from the place you had found comfort in. Lucien had taken over Eris' position so that he could stretch his legs per Nesta's orders, bundled under the thick sheets with your head resting on his chest and hand idly lay across his stomach. Lucien would take that opportunity to pick up where Eris had left off from the book he had left splayed on the table beside the bed, speaking with a low and dreamful voice, willing some serenity to find you wherever you had wandered.

Elain and Nesta would often spend their days in the same room, peering at your sleeping form from the seating area whilst trying to busy their own minds. Nesta was busy writing to Feyre, unsure if she could ever write to Cassian, and Elain would read one of her gardening or cook books, noting down the recipes she'd think you'd love once the idea of food made you smile again.

It was the fifth night that made Eris snatch back his hope.

None of them had heard a scream like it, strangled and raw, your limbs thrashed under the covers and Eris had to wind you into his embrace so that you wouldn't hurt yourself. His heart strained in his chest as you cried, no, begged Rhys to stop, to set you free, that you'd do anything to make things right.

The door opened, and Nesta lingered in the entryway, eyes rounded as she took in the scene before her, your pallid skin glistening with tears and sweat, and Eris trying to pull you from whatever it was you were seeing with his own eyes pooling with desperation and lips wobbling with every lovely word he spoke, with every long stroke he ran through your hair.

Before she could fully register the movement, you bolted upright, eyes wide and wild and snapping to every corner of the room whilst your breath laboured in your throat. There was no y/n within the woman she was staring it, just a terrified female haunted by what she had faced. Your fingers shook, and you grasped the collar around your neck, trying to scratch beneath it to rip it from your skin.

Eris had little choice but to snatch your hands before they tore your skin to shreds, but you wouldn't look at him, no, your eyes were trained at the dark spot in the corner of the room. Eris opened your palms and pulled them to his heart, so that you could feel his heartbeat pull you back to the present, "I'm here, Little Fawn. Feel me. I'm right here," his voice wavered, his gaze snapped to Nesta's, and they were equally as afraid as the other.

The gentle thumps against your palm were enough to draw your attention away, you looked down at the dampened sheets and followed the line down your arm to where your hand rested, then your glanced up at his beautiful face riddled with worry, "You're home. Rhys will never be able to hurt you again, alright?" Eris faced you, his legs at either side of your hips, and he leaned forward to press his lips into your brow.

Eris' breath fanned over your face, like an autumn breeze signalling the end of summer, and he lowered his eyes to find yours.

It was a sweet action, one that made Nesta smile softly from her place in the doorway, but the smile was short lived. You moved from the bed, hand clasped over you mouth and other pressed into your abdomen as you headed to the bathroom with Nesta following quickly in tow before Eris could even properly rise from the sheets.

Nesta, knowing what was about to happen, rushed to your side to pull your hair from your shoulders, rubbing gentle circles into your back and acting as a pillar for your lack of strength so that you could lower to the ground safely and empty the barely there contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl. A soft breathless groan sounded from your lips and you threw your head back, sniffling and wiping your eyes from the sting of your tears. You looked to her, bottom lip shaking and begged, "Please."

With a sigh, she rose to her feet and closed the door, mouthing a small sorry to Eris just as the door clicked to a close.

Not needing to peer to his side to see who was stood beside him, Eris spoke, "Tell Helion to come as fast as he can."

A beat of silence coursed between Eris and his companion, "Are you sure?" Lucien asked. The thought of you being in any form of pain was enough to make him feel ill, but the pain that would sink within you at the hands of Helion's mercy threatened to curse his soul, no matter if it was helpful or not, he knew what awaited you.

"No," Eris bit back his sob and turned to Lucien, and the latter felt uneased by the fire burning within Eris' orbs, "She'll claw at them until they're off or until she slices through her own throat. Get him."

Lucien did not envy his brother, not one bit. He saw the exhaustion on his face, the worry that the love of his life wouldn't be the same, the love that Eris was sure he would never have, and the fear that her light had been stripped from her soul. It wouldn't surprise him if Eris spent the rest of his days attempting to restore even an ounce of it, it wouldn't surprise him if Eris gave up his title to ensure he could dedicate every moment to it.

Though, Lucien knew that deep down you would never allow Eris to do such a thing, and all they could hope for was that someday your light would return in whatever way it could.

So, Lucien didn't argue with his brother. Instead, he lay a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezed ever so softly to let him know that he was there and listening, that he was there to help before dropping his arm and exiting the room to do as Eris wished, leaving his brother stood alone atop the rug with ragged hair and eyes staring ahead at the door you had pleaded Nesta to hide you with.

The breeze rustled the leaves of the tree craning over the window, it was almost as if the branches had drooped slightly so that they may be able to keep an eye on you, to fill your silence with something other than your thoughts.

Unable to lay in the bed, you found a spot at the edge of the deep set love seat, resting against the arm and back with a thick cushion wedged behind you and a blanket draped over your figure that was drowning in one of Eris' shirts. You had sat there long enough to see the sun rise and set, to see the sky turn from blue to orange and nearing black, and you faintly counted the stars in the sky as they appeared.

Candles illuminated the room, Nesta had made sure to enter the chamber like clockwork to make sure that you were comfortable and warm, and had enough light so that you may read if you wished to. She also reminded you that Eris wanted to see you, asking if it would be alright if he came to sit with you for a minute, but you always wordlessly shook your head to the notion, you were ashamed that you weren't the woman he remembered you to be, that you were a small broken fawn caught in the trap of her own mind and decaying right before their very eyes.

Nesta crouched beside you, taking your cold hand in her own and reaching to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, "Someone else wishes to see you," you moved your head an inch to the side but didn't look to her, you were too enthralled with the stars to tear your eyes away, "Helion is here. He knows how to take these away," her fingers drifted along the hem of the cuff on your wrist, and when she looked up she found your darkened eyes, resembling coal and decaying embers rather than their usual violet and fire, staring right back at her, "If you'll let him try."

It wasn't clear if you knew that they knew of the demon living within you, and if you did then you hadn't let on to it. Nesta's nerves heightened at the silence, "Will you? Let him try?"

"Yes."

"Can I bring him in?"

"Yes."

Nesta muttered a small alright and rose from her position, caressing your cheek for a moment before crossing the room and opening the door, speaking in a soft whisper and allowing a draft to pass through the entry which signalled Helion's arrival and her leave.

Footsteps sounded against the floor, his shadow stretched over your curled up form on the seat, and he hesitated for a moment, seemingly trying to deduce where the right place to be was. Helion settled on taking the empty seat before you, his sun-loved skin glowing in the candlelight and his arm resting along the back of the seat, fingers just above grazing the curve of your knee.

Helion drank in your appearance, now understanding what Eris and Lucien had warned him of, and did his best to hide his horror at your pale skin and lifeless eyes, at your thinness and the bones sickly protruding from your flesh. Then his amber orbs found the black veins skittering over your skin like lightening bolts, seeping from the stone collar and cuffs, creeping to consume your entire body.

"I take it that you know what she did?" You spoke softly, moving your gaze away to the window to acknowledge him, and his face said it all, "If you know, then I suppose they do too?" Helion nodded slowly after you tilted your head backward, like you knew exactly who was lingering behind the closed door. "And you can rid me of her, and of these?" Helion watched as you shakily raised your limbs, the faint dangerous hum of the stone encased around you sounding, like a mother soothing a babe, though the stone was no mother and you no babe. It was as though they were trying to deter you, like they had their own mind and consciousness and knew that they were in a rather precarious position.

"I can," you hummed at his words, "But you must know that it will hurt, and we cannot do it here."

"Because all of the power contained with the stones will pour back into my body and the results could be catastrophic," Helion inhaled sharply at what you already knew, he often forgot just how knowledgeable you were, and it was his fault for underestimating you.

There was a real chance that the entire court could perish if Helion were to do it within Fir Manor, that if when the power flowed back through your veins that the earth would splinter and swallow whatever it saw fit as penance for the crimes committed against you. He had to take you far away enough where the damage to the continent would be minimal, and luckily enough for the both of you, Tarquin had offered a small island a few miles off the coast of the Summer Court for the task. It was uninhabited and not seen through the naked eye, so it wouldn't exactly be missed.

Helion told you of his plan, in intricate detail as you asked, if he was going to tear your flesh to pieces then you wanted to know how, you wanted to know every step. When he was done explaining it, how he would have to carve your back open to retrieve the stone, and how exactly he would have to submit you to the worst of pains to free you of the stone collars, you felt your stomach churn.

"Eris will have to be present. He is your Carranam, his power is the key of unbinding you from the stones," he noted your shiver and shuffled closer to you, resting a hand on your quaking knee, "I know that you don't wish him to see you like this, or in any pain, but this is the only way, y/n. Eris loves you, you have changed him from a male to fear into a male to admire, he wishes to help you. Let him."

"I'm not the woman he fell in love with."

"You are his mate. There is no world where he wouldn't love you, no circumstance where he would ever turn his back on you," his thumb soothed over your bones and he saw a wall crumble behind your eyes, "You left this court to save them, to save your family from what Rhys may have inflicted upon them. But you seem to forget that they also chose you, over everything, they chose you and they always will. None of that has changed, my dear."

It was on the tip of your tongue, and you couldn't stop the question from sounding, "What happened to him that day in Spring?"

"Feyre unleashed the power of us all upon him. Between that and the fury of Cassian and Azriel, and Mor and Amren, he didn't stand a chance. Rhys is now confined to the Prison. Amren thought it would be suiting after all he inflicted upon you."

Rhys in the Prison. Something about it didn't sit very well within you at all. Flashes of darkness and loneliness crept into your mind, and you did your best to push them back to where they came from, you told yourself that he deserved it, but you couldn't help but feel somewhat sorry for him.

"And the Night Court? What happens to it now?"

Helion became aware of the fact that the interaction was probably the most you had spoken since you had returned, Helion had always had an odd way of getting you to speak when you didn't particularly want to. There was something comforting about his aura that always had you feeling seen and heard, and he was using that same aura on you now.

"It is to be decided. A date is to be set for Rhys' trial, that is when the fate of the Night Court will also come to light," Helion smiled thinly and reached to entwine his fingers with your own, "We can speak of this later, and I will welcome your input. But for now, we need to free you of these stones."

With a shaky exhale, you rose to your feet, the blanket slipping from your lap and exposing your legs that were partly hidden by the hem of Eris' shirt kissing your thighs. "Give me a few moments. I'll be down soon," you didn't wait for his reply before disappearing into the bathroom, grasping a dress from it hanger along the way and beginning to pull the shirt from you body.

Helion sat in silence for a moment, gathering his thoughts and mentally preparing himself for what was to come before he rose and smoothed the creases from the briefs of his tunic, glancing back toward the closed door on his leave.

It only took a few minutes for you to appear. A night-blue dress hung from your shoulders that were graced with a cream coat with frilled arms which dragged along the floor behind you, the riding boots that Eris had gifted to you what felt like an eon ago slithering up your calves, and hair brushed back and pulled into a loose braid that sat atop a bed of unbound waves with whisps that framed your sharpened features perfectly.

All eyes were on you as you paced across the room from the bottom of the stairs, halting before Helion. Eris rose to his feet, heart pounding in his chest at the fear laced within your eyes, and he glanced to Nesta and Lucien, the only two people he would allow to journey to the island alongside himself and Helion, who wore the same worry on their faces.

"Let's just get this over with," you winced when you rolled your shoulders, that all too familiar pain writhing beneath your skin telling you that the queen was struggling to keep a hold of you, "I'm ready."

Helion nodded stiffly, extending his arm behind you to lead you out to the cobbled path of Fir Manor. The breeze danced through your hair in greeting, the leaves from the ground tumbling toward your feet, and you slid your hand into the one offered to you by Helion. Within moments the Autumn Court pulled from your focus and twisted into black, and then you were covering your eyes from the unobstructed moonlight beaming down on you.

Crashing waves sounded, and you slowly turned in a full circle, seeing nothing book onyx waves lapping onto the shore of the small island where you stood. A small tent had been erected to your left, the doors flapping in the salted breeze, allowing a small glimpse at what was waiting for you. A long wooden table. An assortment of knives. Pales of water. Fire.

"We can wait. We can wait until you're strong enough, we don't have to do this now," Lucien grasped your arm and turned you to face him, eyes pleading as they darted from you to the tent and then back.

Blinking up at him, you smiled softly, "The longer we wait the weaker I become," you raised your fingers to his cheek, drifting them along his cheekbone, "It has to be now. I know that you know of what dwells inside of me, Lucien. It has to end."

"You could die, y/n."

"So be it. At least I'll finally be free then."

Lucien turned to Eris the moment you pulled away from him, approaching the tent in which Helion had slipped into only moments before, "Stop her," Lucien seethed, pacing to his brother so that they stood nose to nose, "Your mate could die in there. Stop her."

"I'll never stop her from doing what it is she wants to do, Lucien," Eris loosed a breath, he was terrified but he understood the freedom the night could offer, even if it mean death would greet you far too soon, "Either be here and help her, or go back to Elain."

Eris rounded his brother, following after you as fast as he possibly could, leaving Lucien and Nesta on the sand, "I don't like it either. But Helion wouldn't propose it if he wasn't sure that she would survive. She needs us and our strength, Lucien. If you don't want to be in there then we will understand and so will she, but I will not abandon my sister at her final stand. Ever. I suggest you follow suit."

The demeanour of cold was understandable, Nesta had left everything behind to follow you in a life of the unknown, unable to stand by and wait until Rhys moved against you. Nesta had always adored you in her own peculiar manner, Lucien often spied her lurking outside of your room since you returned, ready to tend to you if you asked for her and ready to wait until that moment came. It reminded Lucien of the bond he once shared with Tamlin, an unwavering loyalty, a bond broken by his own demise, but Lucien was sure that your bond with each of them would never falter, not even in the face of your darkness.

So, Lucien inhaled deeply and turned to follow Nesta who had already began pacing away from him and toward the dancing curtains of the tent, he followed suit and dipped into the opening and his stomach became uneasy at what was before him.

Eris was stood before you, caressing small circles into your forearms, talking in a low voice to you, only loud enough for you to hear. Your coat was discarded on the back of a nearby chair, and Lucien could count each one of your vertebrae if he so wished it, but instead he decided to focus on the small square poking from beneath your skin. It was the first time he had seen the stone, a perfect square embedded at the apex of your crescent moon scar that your lack of nourishment made clear for all to see.

It was strange how a stone no bigger than his thumb could cause you so much torment.

There was a shadow around you, it was dense, dragging you down into the pits of hell. But you had danced with the devil for far too long to allow it to succeed.

The table beckoned you and you moved to it, your now bare feet scuffing along the ground as you approached it, your fingers dragging along the smooth tabletop. Inhaling deeply, your gaze flickered to Helion, and you turned, perching on the wood and moving your body so that you lay face down with you back facing upward to the thin cloth of the tent.

"You'll need to hold her down," Helion called, and Lucien was too entranced by your movements to recognise that Helion was talking to him. The High Lord of Day took a tentative step forward, "We can't give her any pain relief, it'll dull her senses, and she needs them for what's next."

Lucien looked back to you, seeing that Eris had fallen to his knees before your face and taken your hand in his and brought it to his lips, "Everything is going to be alright," he repeated the sentiment over and over, and Lucien realised in that moment that if the roles were switched and it were Elain laying upon that table, that Lucien would do all in his power to free her from her pain.

Moving to your side, Lucien lay his palm on your shoulder and applied a little pressure, using his weight to test how much strength he'd need to use, which turned out to be not much at all.

"Are you ready?"

Wordlessly, you closed your eyes and nodded, the muscles in your back tensed the moment Helion brought a knife to the exact place he knew he needed to cut into to make it as quick as possible.

Helion pushed down on the knife, letting it tear through each layer of your skin, and you began to strain in Lucien's grip, your body jolting and groans sounding from your lips. Reopening a scar was a painful thing, the marred tissue contorted and wept tears of blood whilst a scream ripped from your lungs, but Helion couldn't stop, Eris had forbidden it.

"Please, stop," your sobs pleaded but your voice had betrayed you, it was combined with the voice of another, coaxing like a siren, low and sultry, "I'll die. You're going to kill me. Please."

A strength Lucien didn't know you possessed coursed through your limbs and you thrashed, inhuman grunts pooling from your broken lips and head snapping around wildly. The candlelight flickered in the speeding winds that were circling the tent, the darkness falling from you in waves and seeping into the sand below. "We do love the darkness. So much," the distorted voice spoke, "I'll make her rip you apart, Lord of Autumn. Then perhaps she'll beg me to join you."

Lucien had all of his weight splayed on top of you, holding your body in place, and Nesta had moved to your shoulder, using her hands to keep it still so that Helion could continue, and he did, but much quicker until the stone was gleaming in your blood and peering up at them. Swirls of a soul danced beneath the surface of it, like the rising smoke of a roaring fire.

"I am the one who makes her a queen. I am the one who gives her the power she wields. Without me, she is nothing."

Eris snarled, lowering his face to yours, or well, the demon who had come to the light, and spoke, "My mate is the most powerful being in any universe, and she was that way long before you were ever lay within her. Your reign is over. My queen ensures it."

Before the demon could spew any matter of vile words, Helion cut deep within the muscle that the stone had melted into and used his fingers to rip it out, holding it in the palm of his hand and feeling the darkness writhe in the face of his light. Helion threw the stone to Nesta who amply locked it within an onyx stone box, the same stone that wound around your neck, and placed it on the table beside his tools.

"Get off of her," Eris ordered, your body had fallen limp, and soft whimpers passed through you whilst Helion did his best work to heal the wound.

You felt every strand of her darkness retreat from your veins, pulling and tugging at your essence on their way out as though they were clutching onto you and begging you to allow them to stay. The relief that washed over you was immeasurable, it was like you had spent the last eon in darkness and were gifted a speckle of sunlight. Pure and adoring light that had found you once more.

As though it had never happened, Helion closed the wound, the only reminder that she had been there being the striking ache in your bones.

"Give her a moment," Eris spoke sternly, knowing that they couldn't wait too long, the adrenaline in your blood was providing you the strength you needed for the next step. He moved to your side, offering his strength to sit you upright and knelt at your feet, wiping his tears with your thumb, "I know that it hurts," your darkened eyes found his and your bottom lip quaked softly, "But have been to the depths of hell and waltzed with the darkness, you have kept strengths in conditions where I never could have. There are no limits to you, nothing you cannot do. And what we're to do next will bring the end of it all. I will not leave you. Even if this power consumes you then I will follow. I will never leave you. It was always you, I knew it was, and I'll never let you go."

At his words, you leant forward and rested your forehead on his, his warmth and light breathing life into your bones, his touch setting your nerve endings on fire. "I will stay," you pulled back slightly, your eyes wandered over his face, "We have a life to live."

"That we do," Eris pressed his lips to your knuckles and pulled you to stand, "Only I can do this next part. I'm sorry," his index finger stroked down your face and over your lips, scribing them to memory, and then his hands curled around the stone of the collar. Eris looked to you hesitantly, internally begging you to stop him, but all you did was rest your fingers on his wrists and nod to him with tear-filled eyes.

"I love you, Eris Vanserra. You could never hurt me."

"When all of this is over, I'm going to make you my wife. My High Lady."

A soft smirk tugged at your chapped lips, "You better."

Eris watched your eyes drift closed and your body relax, like it knew that you were safe with him, and that moment of serenity on your face was once he would remember for the rest of his days. His hands heated, fire stinging at his fingertips that grew searing alongside his will, and the stone began to crack under his touch. Eris knew that he was melting your skin, and you were doing your best to quieten the sobs of pain that stabbed at your chest and coursed down the bond.

He was your Carranam, his power harmonised perfectly with your own, and that power was currently locked within the stone encasing your limbs. He was the only one who could free you of them. The only one who could withstand it.

"I love you," he whispered.

The ground shook beneath your feet, the sand shifting and sinking as Eris deepened the trajectory of his power, sending it flowing through your veins to each stone cuff and melting through the surface of the stone until it smashed and fell to the ground. The ground stopped its shaking, the sand licking at the darkness pouring from the splinters of stone scattered around them, and you gasped lightly.

A crack sounded and Eris had nothing to hold onto before he was sent to the floor, the island turning and earth splitting alongside the ocean beneath his feet. They were all sent to crashing to the ground, all but you, you stood standing as tendrils of black danced up your legs, the darkness swam from the stone toward you, lapping blissfully at your feet before joining the others in their ascent.

Your eyes were still closed, but it was working. Once pallid skin was turning golden right before their eyes, your lifeless hair held its once-lost glossy hue again, your skin became fuller, like your power was healing you from the inside out. You were guzzling the darkness much like Helion had warned, and such an acceptance of power meant that the burst was coming, a burst that would threaten to devour anything within its reach.

With a single nod from Eris, Helion grasped at Nesta and Lucien, ignoring their pleas before winnowing out of there and back to the Autumn Court. Eris was the only one who would be able to control it. He shakily rose to his feet, and the earth threatened to send him tumbling into an abyss but he wouldn't allow it. Nothing would ever be able to take him from you.

Eris reached for your hands, holding onto them and forcing his fire into you, moulding his consciousness with your own so that your power had something to recognise as worth saving, so that it had something to control itself for.

The sand parted beneath you, and it was like the air was tightening in his lungs, you were consuming everything around you both. Wind circled the tent, so wild that it ripped the fabric from the ground and sped off into the tornado that had been created around the island, so untamed that not even the moon could shine on you. It crept in closer each passing moment, sucking all oxygen from the surface that was crumbling beneath him.

Eris grabbed your face in his hands, "I love you, y/n. I have always loved you. From the day I saw you in the Night Court, before I ever knew that we were always meant to be together, I have loved you. I swear that the stars sighed with relief the moment I found you. It was always meant to be us, and even if you blast me to the depths of hell I will rise from my grave and crawl on my knees to you."

Flashes of his dreams coursed through his mind, ones of a life of love and happiness, of your wedding, of the moment he crowned you his High Lady, of the moments where you would tell him you were with child with that sickly beautiful smile on your lips. If all he was meant to have with you was a couple of months then each second of his loneliness and torment was worth every moment he was able to spend with you. Eris could find some peace in it as the earth continued to disintegrate.

Pressing his lips to yours, he felt the tornado surrounding you draw closer and felt his feet begin to betray him, and he was happy to be swept up in your power, he had always relished in it, "I love you, Little Fawn, so much."

A gentle sharp intake of breath sounded in front of him, and he found himself lost in a pool of violet and molten fire just as your power splayed itself catastrophically over the oceans surface, sending the water and wind crashing backward a few hundred feet whilst the earth and sky continued to rumble, but Eris stood firm in your arms. The oceans screamed against your power, each rip and wave rushing to gather and rush back toward you, to drown you, growing so high that the moon had disappeared behind the tidal wave looming over your heads.

But, with a single flick of your fingers, the water halted and fell into a infantile pool of innocence that crept toward and doused your feet. The wind dropped and the earth stilled, all because you ordered it to do so wordlessly.

Then you found his eyes, hands touching every inch of his arms and chest like you were sure he had been swept away, "Are you alright?"

Eris nodded, cupping your face in his hands gingerly, and spoke, "Your fire. It's back."

A gentle breeze danced around you, flitting through your hair and carrying your scent to his lungs, "I told you. We have a life to live," your voice was as soft as the sun in Autumn, inviting and warm and full of light.

Looking down, Eris noticed that the sand beneath your feet was no longer sand, but that you were both stood just atop the surface of the ocean. Eris looked back up at you with a smirk, "So you can walk on water now?"

Frowning, you also peered down, tapping your toes against the water and dipping them below the surface for a moment. You shrugged, still wound in his embrace, and found his eyes once more, "What can I say? I am a God," Eris smiled at your words, not even a little bit surprised by them, he had always had an inkling, and pulled you into him, brushing his lips against yours and feeling the universe loosen a breath, "I'd like to go home now."

Eris hummed in agreement and buried his nose into the nape of your neck, peppering kisses along your collarbone and shoulder as the world around you dissipated from sight and the notion of home settled into your bones.

Authors Note

I'm so sorry that this took so long!

Finally feeling a little better and was able to finish this part! I really hope you all love it x

(Sorry if I've missed anyone from the list)

Taglist

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roanofarcc · 3 months ago

Text

YOU NEVER LEFT ME

pairing. javi x fem!reader

summary. after the loss of three of your best friends, you found yourself pushing everyone away. it seemed easier that way. if there was no one around, no one could be taken from you. and while that mentality faded as time healed your wounds, you had no intention of seeking out kate nor javi. you thought it was better that way. until, one day fate brings you all back together, and you have to deal with some long unspoken feelings.

warnings. PTSD, mentions of drinking/underage drinking, fluffy, "unrequited" feelings, mention of kate/javi, kate and tyler are idiots in love in the background.

word count. 2.1k || masterlist

The air was dry in Oklahoma that summer, the heat intense and reminiscent. You sat in the passenger seat, gaze focused out the window.

“Did you review the application?” your coworker asked from the driver’s seat, making light small talk between the gaps of silence in the radio.

“Courtney filled me in on their qualifications, and why she thinks they’re a good fit for the grant. I trust her judgment,” you replied. Work had been busy the past couple of weeks, and you’d been too swamped to sit down and read the top contender for a rather large grant that would help a team of lucky storm chasers fund their research. You had received a stack of applications, but the team you were traveling to meet was the top contender.

Your coworker hummed and left it at that until your little road trip concluded at a barn in the middle of nowhere. “This is their lab?” he asked, parking the car. “I feel like we’re stepping into a horror film. There’s no one around for miles.”

You smiled and shook your head. “That’s Oklahoma for you,” you said. “Come on.” You stepped out of the car, feeling the heat fit you with full force. It was oddly pleasant, a gentle reminder of your days spent traveling across Tornado Alley back in college, trying to get your and your friends' own research funded. It was odd being on the other side of things, but storm chasing was no longer something you dreamed of doing as a career. You had sworn it off since one deadly miscalculation and cruel fate took the lives of three of your friends. Since then, storms only brought you a cold sense of dread, which is why you pivoted paths, still playing into your curiosity in the dangerous weather, but never having to see it up close again.

“Hey, y’all!” A chipper voice called from the barn before a group of people emerged, the storm-chasing team. You squinted in the sunlight, looking at each member for a moment before your gaze fell on the last two people. You faltered, a quick skip of your heart at the shock that toppled over you. You should have read over the application yourself. You should have known the methods sounded familiar, but time had made it seem unlikely.

But in front of you, approaching across the dirt driveway, were your old team members, the only remaining ones alive, Kate and Javi.

“Holy shit!” Javi said with a wide smile as he picked up his pace, practically jogging towards you. You blinked, a wave of emotions crashing over the top of you. He stopped directly in front of you, the same Javi you knew six years ago only this hair was much shorter, and he stood a little broader. But his smile was the same; the same one that used to make you clam up when you were crammed in the back of the truck together while traveling all across Tornado Alley. “I told you it was her!” he said, looking beside him at Kate.

She looked different too, and her hair was shorter. But you couldn’t help but notice the little twinkle in her eye that had once been there but disappeared after the accident. You didn’t stick around the two of them long in the aftermath, deciding to transfer to a college close to home as you tried to recover, but you stayed long enough to see the toll it took on the two of them. Javi had lost three of his friends and Kate had lost two friends and someone who was once the love of her life. Despite that, the two of them were still working together, chasing.

“I knew the last name, but I didn’t think…” Kate trailed off, her surprise melting into fondness as she took you in. “It's nice to see you.”

You cleared your throat, ignoring the strange looks from your coworker. “Y-Yeah. It’s nice to see you guys too.”

You and your coworker completed your rounds of questioning and inquiring about their research, but you were distracted. It was a strange feeling that pricked the back of your neck, somewhere between uncomfortable and drenched in nostalgia that you were watching from the outside. Javi and Kate almost acted like they’d never been apart. The way they finished each other sentences when explaining their research, with the addition of another member of their team jumping in too, was reminiscent of your college days.

It wasn’t until standing in front of them, in the familiar space of Kate’s mother’s barn, that you realized just how much you missed them. It hit you like a gut punch, an unexpected blow.

“Well, we’ll have to talk it over with the bossman, but I don’t see any reason why you guys shouldn’t get this grant,” your coworker said. The group was all smiles. “I think we’re good to go, yeah?” He turned to you, but before could nod in response, Javi jumped in.

“We actually planned to either celebrate or wallow at a bar downtown, if you’d guys like to join?” Javi’s eyes were fixed on you, a light pleading gaze.

You couldn’t say no.

At the bar, you were sandwiched between Javi and Kate as you all sipped your drinks and talked about everything but your college days. It was something you had always tip-toed around, avoided, and by the way they spoke, you could tell it was something they hadn’t talked too much about either.

The conversation was nice, light, but it still stung a little in your skin. It was odd, you thought, how you didn’t know just how much you missed someone until you were back in their presence. But it stuck to you like wet clothes. Yet, you tried to enjoy the moment and relish in your old friends' company for one night.

You weren’t sure how long you spent talking until one of the other chasers from Kate and Javi’s team, the infamous Tyler Owens, appeared behind Kate and asked her to dance. She looked a little flustered, which confused you. Javi laughed and shooed her away, which also confused you.

Maybe it wasn’t right to jump to conclusions, but by the closeness of Kate and Javi that you picked up on from the minute you arrived, you assumed they had fallen into more than old ways of friendship but moved into something more. Maybe you shouldn’t have assumed, but it made sense. Old friends reconnecting, chasing again despite everything.

But when you say the way Tyler looked at Kate as he spun her around the crowded bar makeshift dance floor, you started to realize maybe you read things wrong.

Javi noticed your quizzical looks at the two. He chuckled into his beer before leaning back on the bar chair. “All the Wranglers have a bet going,” he said. “How long until the two of ‘em buck up and admit their feelings for each other. It’s pretty obvious they're in love with each other, but Kate’s still…you know, she’s scared and Tyler’s too much of a gentleman to make a move until she’s ready,” he explained, putting the pieces together for you.

“Oh,” you replied, surprised. “I thought you and Kate…”

Javi smiled, shaking his head. “I love her, but not like that. Besides, she and Tyler are good for each other, and I…I have a somewhat pathetic love life.”

You furrowed your brows. “I doubt it's pathetic. No more pathetic than mine, at least.”

His gaze was heavy on the side of your face as you stared at your drink, thinking back to every failed date you managed to have since college. It wasn’t anyone's fault but your own. It was like you sabotaged your relationships, looking for something that was even a mystery to yourself.

“I dunno about that,” he sighed. “I’ve had the same crush on a girl for years, an embarrassingly long time.”

You met his eyes, curiosity peaked. Javi never talked much about his crushes in college, not to you at least. While Kate and Jeb seemed to have been a match made in heaven, you complained about not being able to find a love like that. Javi always listened to you complain but never mentioned his own feelings towards others around campus. You assumed it was because he was too focused on your research. You put his obviousness of the fact that you clearly had a crush on him on his focus on school.

“How long is embarrassingly?”

He tilted his head, a sheepish smile hung on his lips. “Since college.”

You paused, holding your drink midway in the air, confused. “But you said you and Kate-”

“I’m not talkin’ about Kate,” Javi said before he sighed lightly. “To be honest, I kind of lied to them about the grant and not knowing that it was your company administering it.” His admittance caught you off guard. You blinked, unsure of what to say, so you let him continue.

“I knew it was a longshot and I had no idea if it’d actually get reviewed. But I thought it was a win-win if it did. We could win the grant and see you. The more I thought about it, though, the less it became about the money and more just about seeing you again. Probably not the smartest way or the easiest, but I wasn’t sure you’d come out if I just asked you out of the blue. And I worried, if you saw our names, you’d ignore it or something; we wouldn’t have blamed you for that, though. It’s hard; I know. Kate does too. But-” he cut himself off, a little out of breath from speaking quickly. “It’s not the same without you. And I’m not talkin’ about chasing. Having you in our lives, in my life, I miss it; I miss you…”

It was a lot to take in, a lot to process in the loud, dusty bar. You felt warm, half a nice warmth and the other troubled, unsure. You pressed your lips into a thin line for a moment, taking in his words.

“I-I…” The words were thick in your throat, but you swallowed them down and tried again. “I miss you guys too.”

“Really?”

You laughed sadly. “Of course I do. You guys were my best friends.” And it hurt that they weren’t anymore, but maybe it didn’t have to stay that way. Maybe that’s why you followed them to the bar because you weren’t ready to let them go again, despite the pain that accompanied their company as well.

“Friends,” Javi parroted, glancing down at his beer, fingers tapping against the counter. “I’m gonna say somethin’ that might not be, uh, the right thing right now, but I don’t know when or if I’ll see you again.” You wanted to tell him that he would, but you couldn’t be certain of that; nothing was ever certain. “I liked you in college, a lot. I always have, and still do. Which, I know, is ridiculous. I haven’t seen or talked to you in years, but you never left me.”

Your heart ached the same way it had when you two would get a little closer back in school, testing the waters of something beyond friends but you never got the chance to take the dive.

You were quiet for a moment, eyes falling out the door onto the sky shifting colors as night neared. The smell of cheap whisky the person on the other side of you was drinking brought you back to sneaking bottles from your parent's house when your little team stopped by during chases. You and Javi sipped it in the back of the van, giggling to yourself until you fell asleep. Kate would help you two nurse a hangover with diner coffees she always poured too much sugar into. You missed that. You missed them. You missed him.

“Maybe this won’t be the last time you see me,” you said, looking back at him.

Javi looked surprised but it melted into excitement quickly. “Maybe you could stay, hang around a bit. You think your work would let you help us with the grant money?”

It would be an odd ask, but possibly one they wouldn’t say no to. But the thought of chasing again sent shivers down your spine. He noticed, placing a warm hand over yours. “It’ll be different this time,” he said, voice laced with a convincing reassurance.

You knew that wasn’t something he could promise, but the thought of jumping on a plane the next morning didn’t sit right with you either. You were stuck at a crossroads of sorts.

It was a leap of faith, a fear-chasing endeavor you weren’t sure you were fully prepared for, but maybe it was where your life needed to go.

“It couldn’t hurt to ask.”

And he smiled even brighter.

#twisters #twisters 2024 #javi twisters #javi twisters x reader #javi x reader #javi x you #kate carter #tyler owens #twisters fanfic

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ornii · 9 months ago

Note

Tara Carpenter x Male Reader?

Funny enough, I was never a big Horror Fan so the Scream series went under my radar. Conveniently enough I decided to watch the latest one and I gotta say not too bad.

Trust

Takes years to form, can be broken in one moment.

After a short but memorable service in the Army, you were able to take an honorable discharge after barely a year, after searching a Home you saved your squad from a makeshift IED. It Left a few scars, but that was the last of the physical damage, mental damage can never truly be measured and heal fully, but you’re managing. Hearing the Murders of Woodsboro, and Tara surviving thankfully.

You and Tara had been friends since moving to Woodsboro years ago, just kids at the time but there was something really different about her, you couldn’t put your finger on it but she always lit up the room, and specifically took your breath away. Leaving for Basic Training, you never got a chance to admit it, but you knew once you returned it was the first thing to do on your bucket list.

So when you were discharged, Blackmore University was a nobrainer to attend. But it was only downhill after that, the Killings return, and it seemed to return just as you did.

It was all too much of a coincidence for anyone else to ignore. So they did the only sensible thing.

You were standing in the middle of the apartment, unsure of what to do. You were essentially surrounded by Tara, Sam, Chad, and Ethan. “I don’t understand..” you said, your eyes tracing along the eyes staring at you. “You think.. it’s me?” You ask. And Chad stepped up first.

“We heard what happened at Woodsboro, it just, takes someone pretty skilled to do that stuff..” he said, Chad had an attitude that he didn’t want to believe it, but a capable man with a knife is pretty tough. You looked over to everyone else, Quinn seems indifferent, Sam was reluctant to speak and Tara couldn’t look you in the eye.

“Tara, Tara look at me…” you pleaded, Teary eyed she slowly looks up to meet your gaze.

“You really think I could do this? I came back here for you, why would I…” you slowly trail off, silent as you truly were at a loss.

“I don’t want to believe it..” she said, “but.. it just all looks bad..” She admits, and that truly broke your heart, the one person you wanted to believe you, before you could say anything, Ethan walks over putting his arm around Tara to try to soothe her. Ethan always had a slimy attitude, and you never really felt, safe around him. But seeing him do that to Tara made your skin crawl. Something about this, about all of this, was way off.

“(Y/n), Quinn’s dead, we have to stop this before more people die; if it isn’t you then the police are gonna release you.” Sam explains, and they wheel an office chair with arms over for you to sit. Seeing how distressed Tara was, you very reluctantly sat down on it, and allowed them to bind your arms to the chair. Tapping your foot restlessly, you eyed Ethan. “Feel safer now?” You said obviously with sarcasm, and Ethan give this look. Of disappointment.

“Look I know service does a lot to the brain.” He started, and you realized just what he’s about to do.

“No you fucking don’t..” you cut him off sternly and harshly, knowing his plan to blame your PTSD and use it to label someone as unstable. Ethan gives you another look, as if he’s hiding a smile.

“Let’s give him some fresh air at least, would be better for him.” Ethan walks over and calmly pushes you to the balcony, “it’s for your own good.” He mutters a bit abruptly, and walks back to the others, you can’t hear what they’re saying but Tara eyes you a few times. You wanted to plead and beg for her to listen to you, but it would have been for nothing, she’s already convinced it was you. Your train of thought was cut off by footsteps around you, mostly above, you hear them and look up to see someone heading down, it was too dark to make out who it was, but once you saw the flash of steel with their knife you instantly knew.

“Guys! Guys!” You shook and kicked to get their attention, they all looked over as you fought to break free. You screamed for help, It was too late, heading down the fire escape, Ghostface made their appearance, grabbing your legs they lifted you up and over the balcony, you felt the instant dizzying sensation of being tossed and your head slammed hard against the lower balcony rail, it all went dark after that but you tumbled against more rails and slammed on a hard sheet metal roof and slid off onto the ground.

Somehow, you still lived. Opening your eyes slowly you see the hard New York ground and the wheels of a dumpster, using what strength you had you were able to stand up, seems the chair broke most of your fall, but still causing cuts and bruises and probably a cracked rib or two. Using the dumpster you prop yourself up and reach into your pocket with your bloody hands to your cracked IPhone, it was near impossible to make any calls, but one app did catch your eye. Find my IPhone. Tapping on Tara’s name you spot her location, a old theatre. Tearing off the tape on your wrists you look around for anything to defend yourself, all you see is a sharp end of plastic from the fallen chair. Snatching it you make you plan.

You stand up, feeling a hot burning pain in your leg, specifically your ankle which probably has a torn ligament or shattered bone. You push the pain down and limp your way to the theatre. Pushing the door open with your bloody palms you limped in, to a sight you least expected. You watched Ethan terrorize Tara, who looks ready to fall off a ledge, Sam barely holding on as Quinn, who never was dead approaches, and Detective Bailey, aiming a gun at them all. It was all a ploy to kill you and lessen the numbers. Ethan’s words “for your own good” kept running in your head, he set you up to get killed. All that military training began to pay off, you crouched with a bad limp and had to crawl to avoid making too much noise, you crept up behind Bailey and didn’t hesitate. You took the sharp plastic and rammed it into the side of his neck with force. Using his other hand he tries to hold his neck to keep the blood loss. You reached and gripped his hand hard, forcing him to Aim at Quinn and crushing his tigger finger. A bullet flies and almost hits Quinn, Sam looks up to see you and you continue to force him to pull the trigger until one bullet gets lodged right in the head of Quinn. She drops dead and so does Bailey. You stood there, silent as Ethan turns to see you. You didn’t care why he did it, you didn’t care to even ask.

“Get Tara up.” You gave Sam her order and she took the change to yank her sister up while you handled Eathan. He danced the knife around his hands, waiting for you make a move but you knew better. You kept calm and locked in. Ethan thrashed at you to land a hit but you kept calm, keeping your distance and avoiding close cuts. You watch in go for a stab, you open your arm, he goes past it and you lock his arm under yours, with one swift jerk up you snapped his arm, you cocked back and began to hammer his face in, punch after punch. Ethan stumbles around and with one judo throw you slammed him into a table, exhausted from the ass beating you promptly put on him, he lies there, laughing.

“You don’t deserve her, I always wanted to stick something in her… and she picks you, a fuckin freak who cries when fireworks go off..” Ethan spoke with venom though his bloody teeth. You looked at him, disgusted.

“Cry me a river.. and fuckin drown in it.” You grabbed him, dragged his head to the edge of the table and lifted up your arm and slammed your elbow right into his eyesocket, his neck snaps back with a crunch, as he lays there, dead. (Y/n) slumps down, exhausted. After dispatching three serial killers like John Wick he finally breathes as the nightmare is over.

The FBI and Police arrive, taking statements and doing some investigating and body clean up. You were getting the cuts and bruises patched up, and the ankle looked at.

“Hairline fracture. Gonna need some time for it to heal but you’ll be walking again.” The EMT gave a warm smile to you and went to tend to Sam. You leaned your head back to finally rest, you felt a presence approach, he could immediately tell it was Tara.

“…What do you want?” You said, you tilt your heard back forward and look at her. She looked good, even if she was getting murdered half an hour ago, still so.. beautiful. “Can We.. can we talk?” She said, almost in a whisper. You scoot over the ambulance seat to let her sit down.

“I’m… so sorry I didn’t believe you. And you almost got killed for it..” she bit her bottom lip to keep from crying, as angry as you were, she got baited into it, you put your arm around her.

“I wish you trusted me but I understand why you didn’t, let’s just, relax first.” You felt her lean into your arm, content with how things are finally.

“Yeah.” She closes her eyes to take in the moment, and you finally let this nightmare end.

#male reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x male!reader #jenna ortega x male reader #jenna ortega x reader #scream6 #scream #tara carpenter x male reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #ornii

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citrineghost · 1 year ago

Text

I absolutely cannot get over - of all the things wrong with this season of OFMD - the abuse apologism.

Listen, hear me out, I understand that they're violent pirates. I understand they brutally murder and kill people and steal their shit and ruin lives. I get it.

The problem is, you cannot make a comedy about pirates and put a focus on the therapizing and emotional openness of the crew, making the fact that Stede showing up has them healing and talking and being emotionally more healthy as a major selling point of the show only to use that therapy-speak as a way of justifying abuse apologism.

They all hurt people, yes. The thing is, they're not supposed to hurt each other. They're supposed to be a family. The violence and abuse is supposed to be outside of the family network. They're supposed to be at home around each other, even if everyone there isn't great all the time and can sometimes be a bit toxic or unhealthy. Overall, in season 1, the message was, "We can get through this together." "Talk it through, as a crew."

Instead, season 2 dives directly into Ed committing atrocities against his own crew, giving most of them some combination of PTSD (which is clearly worse than any they've experienced before, because their personalities and ability to interact with people is completely altered), dissociation, hypervigilance, etc. Then, when they finally beat his ass and try to kill him because of the abuse, Stede fucking Bonnet shows up and is like, actually! I think you all should give him another chance!

The following episode(s) are so fucking hard to watch.

You've got people jumpy around him, terrified he's going to hurt them, all the while Stede encouraging them to just get over it and forgive him. He pushes for Ed to try to "turn poison into positivity." Basically encouraging the notion that if your abuser apologizes and then acts nice, everything should be fine and peachy.

The fact that this is bullshit is mentioned, I believe, only once, when someone noted that Edward didn't even use the words, "I'm sorry," during his apology.

This isn't just perpetuated by Stede, it's also perpetuated by Black Pete. He says to Lucius, "I feel like you're not even looking at me, you're looking through me." and then, when he sees that Lucius is drawing Ed's head on Pete's body (I guess meant to be some comedic take on traumatic fixation), he isn't sympathetic at all, he get's mad that he's not focused on him, and says something along the lines of, "You're so focused on the bad that happened to you but I haven't heard you mention once that you're alive."

This is such a heartwrenchingly common form of abuse minimization that it's nauseating to think about. This idea that, oh, you may be traumatized but actually you're not dead so who cares? Be grateful! Get over it!

And, unlike it being pointed out that Ed didn't say the words, "I'm sorry," this scene is never criticized by anyone in-show. Instead, Lucius appears very guilty and then draws a picture of Black Pete as an apology, telling him he's right.

He wasn't right. That's a fucked up thing to tell someone who was almost killed and then experienced extreme trauma following that. He made the entirety of Lucius' trauma an affront to him. Because Lucius was thinking about his trauma and not him.

Now the worst thing about all of this, to me, is that once this episode is past, it's treated as if everything is resolved. Oh haha funny, Ed walked around the ship with a cat bell on his neck for a few days so he couldn't sneak up on people! So cute and quirky!

It's fucking not! They should have thrown him onto a deserted beach and left him there. I'm not saying Ed should never be allowed to have anything good again in his life, I'm just saying it shouldn't be the crew he traumatized and abused. They don't deserve to have to live with him. They shouldn't be expected to forgive him.

Don't even talk to me about how they made a, and I quote, "Safe Space," and then Ed showed up to it. Like he had any fucking right to be there. When it was a Safe Space meant to be specifically an escape for the people he abused and traumatized. As if he, too, was a victim of him abusing them.

And on top of all of that, the fact that, as he's dying, Izzy is taking all the blame for Ed's actions as Blackbeard - another of Ed's abuse victims - and is treated as if that's the peak of his emotional development. It's not. That was where his development plummeted. He had seconds left to live and he used them to absolve his abuser of his guilt because he loves him and didn't want him to feel as bad when he died.

I was not a fan of Izzy in season 1. He was the biggest cunt on the ship, and he did encourage Ed to be a worse version of himself. But that doesn't mean his cuntiness justified him being mutilated and abused daily. We can only put so much of that on him. Ed had the power to say no. He had the power to be moderate, even. He had the power to be violent and terrible to people outside of their crew. He took Izzy's words and he ran with them - waaay further than he had any conscionable right to.

But this post isn't about season 2 Izzy. It's about abuse apologism, which I feel made up a significant portion of this season's content. And I'm just fucking furious about it.

I'm not saying shows can't have bad things in them. I'm not saying abuse apologism doesn't happen or that it doesn't have its place in media. I'm just saying, season 2 of this show wasn't a fucking comedy. The writers fucking tanked it. Everything that was good about season 1 was stripped of season 2 and everything was plunged into dark-humor tinted tragedy.

You can't base an entire show on the idea of comedically intelligent/modern therapizing language and then use that language to communicate that abusers deserve your pity and forgiveness - not to a queer audience that is probably 90% people who have been horribly abused.

#ofmd critical #ofmd #ofmd 2 #ofmd season 2 #ofmd2

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soaps-mohawk · 8 months ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 14: The Aftermath

Summary: Your heat is over, now all that's left to do is heal.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz

Word Count: 5100 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, handjobs, heat cycles, mating cycles, brief medical stuff, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, fluff, angst, nightmares, PTSD

A/N: Surprise!! Got this one done super early because I kind of just want to move forward with this fic and get to more exciting things so enjoy this bonus chapter. This weekend's update might come a day late, we'll see. Not entirely happy with this one, but it's really just setting up the next part so...yeah. Enjoy!!

Want early access to chapters, as well as other bonus content? Consider supporting me on Patreon.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

(Gif found on Google)

A rumbling purr vibrates in your chest. It’s a purr of contentment, of satisfaction. You’re warm, not like you had been nine days ago when your heat started, though. This is a comfortable warmth, a cozy warmth. You’re under blankets in your nest, pressed against a bare chest. You trail your fingers along smooth skin until you hit a familiar scar slicing through the skin, right below his clavicle.

“Got that one outside a bar in Manchester.”

You pause in your movements, tilting your head to look up at John. He’s staring down at you, his own fingers starting to trace a pattern on your back.

“Was years ago. Some bloke was getting rowdy inside. Pulled him out to try and talk him down, and he pulled a knife on me.”

“I can imagine what you did in response.” You murmur, laying your head back on his chest.

John huffs out a laugh. “Left him with a couple missing teeth, and quite the dent in his head.” He smooths a hand over your side. “You feeling alright?”

You hum in response. Your eyes feel dry and puffy from crying, and you’re terribly thirsty. You’re beginning to feel the ache in your body again, the steady pulse of pain between your legs starting up. “Hurting again.” You murmur, smacking your lips. “Kinda feels like I swallowed sand too.”

“Almost time for another muscle relaxer.” He says, glancing at his phone before grabbing an electrolyte bottle from the nightstand.

You push yourself up to sit, joints cracking as you go. You let out a quiet whimper at the ache in your body, eyes filling up with tears again.

“Easy.” John tries to soothe you, brushing the hair from your face. “You’re alright.”

“Sorry.” You sniffle, taking the electrolyte bottle. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not. It’s just a natural part of coming down from a heat.” John says as you gulp down the contents of the bottle.

“My mom cried after her heats.” You say, putting the cap back on the electrolyte bottle. “I heard her once, when I was like seven or eight. My dad had picked us up from the care center on base. I wanted to see my mom, but their bedroom door was closed. I could hear her inside, crying alone. My dad scolded me, sent me back down the hall when he saw me. It never felt right to me, that she was in there alone like that, but maybe things are different when you have pups.”

“I don’t think it was right.” John says as you lay back down against his side. He’s tense, limbs stiff even as his arm wraps around your back.

“There were a lot of things my dad did that I questioned.” You say absentmindedly, tracing circles on John’s stomach to try and calm him. “Maybe it was just that inner part of me that knew I’d be an omega that made me notice it more. My brothers never said anything, but then again, they all presented as alphas.” You shift against John’s side, tucking your head so he can’t see your face. “Maybe I was just unlucky.”

He grunts, squeezing your shoulder gently. “You can’t control what nature decides.”

“Can’t control a lot of things.” You say quietly as he tightens his hold around you. “Suppose I am lucky in one regard.”

“What’s that?” He asks.

You shift yourself so you’re facing him, tears sliding down your cheeks again. “You’re a really good alpha.”

He pulls you against his chest again, pressing your face into his neck. “I don’t know if I’d call myself that.” He says, gently stroking your hair. “Just treating you the way you deserve to be treated.”

“You treat me like I’m a human being.” You sniffle, wetting his skin as you cry. “That’s better than I’ve been treated since I presented.”

You don’t see the way his brow furrows, the frown tugging at his lips at your words. You do feel the way he tenses for a moment, arms clenching around you before he relaxes again, a quiet purr rumbling through his chest as he soothes you.

“I haven’t left your side since your heat started.” He says, taking your hand in his.

“Really?” You ask, brows pinching a bit at his confession.

He hums. “Except to use the bathroom.”

“You must be sick of me by now.” You say.

“Never.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re my sweet little omega. Could never get sick of you.”

You let out a soft purring noise, the sound slipping through your lips before you even realize it. Your eyes widen and you push yourself up out of Price’s neck in surprise. “I’ve never made that noise before.”

Price smiles softly at you, reaching up to stroke your cheek. “Just means you’re happy.”

“Hmm.” You lay yourself back down against his chest, resting your ear over his heart. You suppose you are happy.

Or, at the very least, content.

Standing hurts.

Your legs feel a bit like jelly and your muscles ache deeply. It’s been almost five days since your heat ended, and yet you still feel like you just ran a marathon with no training beforehand. You know part of it is that you’ve been laid up for almost a week, but after that kind of physical exertion, you needed rest. You had only gotten up to stumble to the bathroom a handful of times, leaning heavily on John to avoid straining your muscles anymore than they already were.

You should get up and start moving now, though. It will help with the stiffness, you know, and you should get the blood flowing at least a little.

You’re also starting to go a bit stir crazy cooped up in your room all the time. You can only rearrange your nest so many ways, and you’ve even started to kick John out of the nest, opting to cuddle with your giant bear instead.

You've showered, finally feeling properly clean for the first time in almost two weeks. You dress yourself, opting for the loosest clothes you own, and forgoing underwear. You’re not sure you can handle anything too tight on your skin yet.

“Ready?” John asks, standing near the door.

You nod, putting on your slippers as he opens the door. Arms wrap around you as soon as you step out into the hallway, your feet leaving the floor.

“She lives!” Johnny exclaims, spinning you around.

You grunt at the impact of the excited Scotsman, but wrap your arms around him anyway, taking in his citrusy scent. You have missed him, not realizing how boring life would be without him until now. You’ve even missed Ghost a bit, his looming presence making the world seem a little less big.

“Easy, Johnny.” Ghost scolds the overjoyed beta. “She’s still breakable.”

“Sorry, kitten.” Johnny says, immediately setting you back on your feet and loosening his grip around you. “Missed ye, is all.”

“I missed you too.” You smile up at him.

“Thought ye might never be comin’ out of that room.” He says. “Thought I might have tae go in and save ye.”

You smirk. “You almost had to. Was starting to feel a bit stir crazy in there.”

He grins playfully at you. “Well, yer more than welcome to spend the night elsewhere if yer sick of bein’ cooped up.”

“She's definitely not going to be doing any of that for a while.” John says, stepping up behind you. “R&R is the only thing on her schedule right now.”

Johnny pouts. “But what if I just want tae cuddle?”

“Since when do you ‘just cuddle’?” Ghost asks.

“I can just cuddle.” Johnny pulls you against his chest again, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “I'll do it for our ‘mega. I’ll prove it right now.” Johnny pulls away from you, steering you towards the rec room.

“I’ll keep an eye on them.” Ghost says to Price, giving him a look before turning on his heel, following you and Johnny to the rec room.

Johnny flops down on the couch, pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around you. You lean against his chest, breathing in his scent again. It’s refreshing, after being stuck in a room with the same scents. You could never grow tired of Price’s scent, but when it’s all you’ve been able to smell for an extended period, you start to get tired of it. You remember nearly tackling Kyle in an attempt to get a whiff of his scent, but the sting of scent blockers had nearly brought you to tears again.

You let out a quiet sound as Johnny tilts his head, letting you breathe in his scent directly from the source. You start to purr quietly, nose pressed against his throat. An answering rumble begins in his own chest, his arms tightening even more around you.

“Smell good.” You murmur, your lips brushing his skin. Goosebumps erupt across his neck, a shudder trailing down his spine.

“Easy, mutt.” Ghost grumbles from the chair beside the couch, his eyes on you and Johnny.

“Cannae help it.” Johnny almost whines, trying to ease you away from his neck. He grips your chin as your head lolls, a drowsy smile forming on your face as you blink up at him. “Christ, yer gettin’ scent drunk.”

“Missed you.” You murmur, your brain quieting to a soft buzz as you lean your head on his shoulder, listening to the quiet rumble in his chest.

“Missed you too.” He says, his hand dropping from your face. His fingers ghost over the mark on your shoulder, making you twitch in his arms. “Cannae believe yer officially part of the pack. Seems like just yesterday ye were arriving, all shy and timid. Now look at ye. Purring away on my lap with Price’s mark on yer shoulder.”

Your cheeks warm at his words, a reminder of just how quickly things have changed. It’s only been almost seven weeks since you arrived in their lives. How quickly things have happened, how quickly things have changed. Though, you suppose things could have happened faster. You’re lucky they gave you so much time to adjust. Many alphas would have started the process as soon as you were in their sights.

They’re not like that, though. They’ve turned your beliefs on their head and changed your perspective entirely. Alphas can be good and caring and don’t just always take what they want.

You sniffle as tears pool in your eyes again, Johnny looking away from the TV to stare at you.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He asks, sounding worried.

“Nothing.” You say, pressing your face against his shoulder. “I’m just crying cause I’m happy.”

“I know, this is probably the last thing you want to be doing right now.” Dr. Keller says from the end of the exam table. “But, unfortunately, it is necessary.”

You’re silently glad for the numbing spray, the pressure still enough to make you wince, but you can’t even imagine the kind of pain you’d be in if you weren’t numb. You wonder how many omegas have to go through this without it, how many are subjected to the horror without any sort of pain relief.

“And we’re done.” She says, pulling away. “Everything looks good, no tearing or other injuries.” She pulls her gloves off, John helping you lower your legs from the stirrups. “Though, I’d suggest abstaining from any rigorous physical activity for at least another week.”

Your face warms at the implication of her words. You’re not sure you’d want to anyway, at least not for a while. Aside from the soreness, after six days of near non-stop...activity, you might shrivel up and die if you see a naked man again anytime soon.

“Do you feel up to chatting today, or would you rather go back to bed?” Dr. Keller asks as John helps you sit up. “Won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t want to.”

You think about it for a moment, chewing on your lip before you answer. “We can talk.”

She nods, smiling. “Aright. Take your time, I’ll be in my office when you’re ready.”

She leaves the room, leaving you and John alone. You move slowly as you get dressed, still a bit sore and stiff. John walks you to the door, wrapping his arms around you before you can enter, pulling you against his chest.

“Call me, if you need anything.” He says.

You nod, staring up at him before you lift yourself onto your toes to kiss him. He purrs quietly when your lips touch his, his arms tightening around you for a moment before you pull back, staring up into his eyes for a moment before you turn away, heading into Dr. Keller’s office.

You take your usual seat, silently grateful for how comfortable the chair is as you sit down. You’ve been avoiding sitting as much as possible, having spent the last few days lounging in bed with John and occasionally Gaz.

“Comfortable?” Dr. Keller asks.

You nod. “Yeah. Think this is the most comfortable chair I’ve ever sat in.”

“Good.” Dr. Keller smiles. “You tell me if you get uncomfortable or if you want to end early, alright?”

You nod again. “Yeah.”

She nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “So, how are you feeling, aside from the discomfort? Your first heat with your pack, being claimed, that’s a lot all at once.”

“It is a lot.” You acknowledge, picking at your sweatpants. “I’m still...I don’t know, processing it, I guess? It’s...a big step, but it was always going to happen. That’s why I’m here, right? To be their omega, to be part of their pack.”

“That is true.” Dr. Keller agrees. “As much as I could say about it, you are right. This was the end goal of this entire experiment. But, how do you feel about it? Are you relieved that it’s over?”

“Yeah.” You answer. “I’m glad that it’s over, that it’s done with. I...guess I feel lucky too.” You chew on your lip nervously.

“In what way?” Dr. Keller asks.

“John’s a...good alpha. I think I knew that before, but...he took care of me. He didn’t hurt me, he’s never forced me into anything.” A small smile tugs at your lips. “They’re all good pack members. Even Ghost.”

“Good.” Dr. Keller smiles. “I’m glad you feel that way. John is a fantastic alpha. He cares a lot about you and your wellbeing.”

“He treats me like I’m more than just my status. I feel like...like I’m a person again. Not just something that can serve others. I used to think that's just what omegas were supposed to do. At the institute, that's what we were taught. How to serve. But, I can see now how we do so much more than that.”

Dr. Keller practically beams at you. “That’s great! That’s so great that you’re beginning to discover your place in their pack. I think it will get easier, now that you’re official.” She nods towards your shoulder where your claiming mark now sits.

You fight the urge to reach up and touch it, curling your fingers around the fabric of your sweatpants instead. It doesn't hurt anymore, other than slight soreness if you lay on that shoulder after a while. The scabs are beginning to come off, revealing the scar that will decorate your skin for the rest of your life, showing proof of your place in Price’s pack as his omega.

“Do you feel different, being a claimed omega now?” Dr. Keller asks.

You do feel different. Not just because you're a claimed omega now. There's something else, a sort of connection now that you've never experienced, even with your family. You don't know how to describe it, except for a slight buzzing in the back of your brain that only seems to quiet when you're near John. You don't really notice it until you think about it, and then you can't get it quiet until you're near John again.

“Yeah.” You finally answer, trying to ignore the buzzing feeling in your brain.

“The bond,” Dr. Keller says with a grin. “Hard to describe, so I've heard. I've also heard it lessens in intensity with time. Has anything else changed? Any feelings?”

You shrug. “I guess I feel...better about being here. It’s still not ideal but...I feel happier.”

“Yeah? Good.” Dr. Keller writes something down. “That makes me glad to hear. You’re getting along with everyone?”

You nod. “Yeah. I’ve been getting closer to Kyle and Johnny. I know they’ll want to progress our relationships after I’ve healed a bit.”

“Is that something you want?”

You nod. It is something you want. Kyle has already seen you in your most vulnerable state, and you know Johnny has been anxiously awaiting his time. You’d even consider getting closer to Ghost, though, that would be entirely up to him and what he wants. You know getting closer to Johnny will inevitably force you and Ghost closer, but you won’t push the alpha’s boundaries.

That will only end poorly for everyone.

John is awake instantly as soon as the knock comes at the door. He calls for them to enter, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he stares blearily at the computer screen in front of him. Simon’s giant form approaches the desk, sinking into the chair across from him.

“Getting caught up?” Simon asks, looking him over.

John nods. “Slow progress. Hard being out of commission for six days.”

“Well, you didn’t miss much excitement. Laswell called a couple times. Kyle talked to her.”

“That’s what he said.” John leans back in his chair. “Checking up on our girl.”

“Sent over some things that might interest you as well.”

“I see that.” John says, glancing at the email in his inbox. One of several hundred unread emails.

“You look tired.”

“Think I’m getting old, Simon.” John says, running a hand over his face. “I don't remember things being this rough, coming out of it.”

“I’ve heard purebreds are different.”

John gives him a look. “Thank you for holding down the fort.”

Simon shrugs. “Things are going to get difficult now.”

“We have a job to do, above everything else. That was something we knew from the start.” John says.

“Things were different then.” Simon says. “It's going to be a struggle.”

“We knew that too.”

“I'm not talking about the omega.” Simon's voice lowers, taking on the low rumble of Ghost. “I'm talking about you.”

John's back stiffens as he stares at his Lieutenant. “This doesn't change anything.”

“It changes everything.” Simon stands from his seat. “Just how much, we won't know until we're in it.” He turns, making his way towards the door.

“You think you're immune?” John says, making him pause by the door.

“No. But I've been keeping my distance for a reason.” He turns the handle on the door, turning to look back at John. “One of us has to have a clear head.”

John watches as the door closes, something tickling in the back of his mind. He sighs as he sinks back in his seat, eyes moving to the computer screen and his hundreds of unread emails.

He closes the browser, shutting down the computer, staring at the screen until the hum of harddrive quiets. His skin is prickling now, thinking back on Simon's words. Of course things have changed. It would be no different had they added a fifth person to the team. He knows leaving will be hard, but they have a job, a duty to perform. That always comes first above all.

Can he make it come first after this?

He remembers how different things had felt after he claimed Kyle. His decisions became safer, but his actions became riskier to ensure Kyle's safety. It wasn't that he doubted Kyle's abilities. He knows Kyle is more than capable of taking care of himself. That's why he's on the team. It was his instincts needing to protect his pack, to ensure his beta's safety.

What is he going to do now that there's an omega involved?

You won't be going with them, you won't be in the field, but they'll have to leave you behind. It could be weeks before they'd see you again, if they see you again.

The thought has a sick feeling churning in his stomach.

Maybe Simon is right.

Maybe things have changed too much.

John rises from his seat, his joints cracking. He stretches, groaning quietly at the ache still present in his muscles. It's faded for the most part, but he can still feel it if he's immobile for too long. It's not the worst pain he's ever felt, but it's hard to think of a time he's felt worse.

Maybe he is getting too old for this.

He pauses outside Kyle's door, staring down at the knob. He feels bad for what Kyle had to go through the last almost two weeks. He knows it's a natural part of pack life, a natural role for betas, but he still feels guilty.

“Everything alright?” Kyle's voice breaks through his thoughts. The door is open now. Kyle standing there in nothing but a pair of sweatpants.

He hadn't even noticed the door open.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “It's nothing. I don't want to bother you.”

“You're not bothering me.” Kyle gives him a worried look. “Just got out of the shower. You can come in, if you want.”

His feet are moving before he even thinks about it, Kyle closing the door behind him. He sinks down into Kyle's desk chair with a heavy sigh.

“What's on your mind?” Kyle asks, grabbing the jar of coconut oil off his dresser.

“Too much.” John answers, looking up at him as he approaches. “Everything's going to change now.”

“Yeah,” Kyle says, setting the jar on his desk before scooping some out. “Things change all the time. We learn and adapt to them. That's what we do.”

John watches him rub the oil on his face and neck, watching the movements of his hands. He's right. Always the voice of reason and logic. They were trained to adapt to anything. It was their job. They had adapted to your presence easily enough, they could adapt to this new development too.

It would take time, but they could do it.

“You're right.” He says, staring at Kyle's glistening skin. He wants to be the one to rub the oil onto his perfect skin, feel the softness of it under his hands. “Thank you. Thank you for everything. You've been a great help through this.” He stops Kyle from grabbing more coconut oil, grabbing some himself. “I owe you a lot for neglecting you these last couple weeks.”

“You weren't neglecting me.” Kyle says, giving him a small smile as John starts rubbing the oil over his shoulders. “You were taking care of our omega.”

A satisfied growl rumbles through John’s chest at his choice of words. “Now let me take care of you.”

Kyle’s breath stutters as John moves behind him, rubbing oil onto his back before moving to his chest. His fingers brush over Kyle’s nipples teasingly, pulling a quiet groan from the younger beta’s lips. John leans against his back, slipping his hands down lower, feeling the ridges of his muscles pulled taught from John’s touch. His lips press a soft kiss to the claiming mark on Kyle’s neck, Kyle’s head falling back against John’s shoulder. John growls in approval at the submissive position, his fingers trailing the waistband of Kyle’s sweatpants.

John gathers more coconut oil on his hand before he slips them under Kyle’s pants, spreading the soft oil across his skin. He’d chosen to forgo briefs under his sweatpants, Price’s hand brushing against Kyle’s half hard cock.

“Fuck...” Kyle breathes, arching into John’s touch.

“How many times did you jerk off to the sound of us this last week?” John asks, wrapping his hand around Kyle’s cock.

“At first I didn’t,” Kyle says, pressing his hips into John’s hand. “Was too focused on making sure nothing went wrong. But then...” He lets out a moan as John begins jerking his cock. “Then I couldn’t take it anymore. The mental image of you two together, the sounds she was making...” Kyle lets out a groan, squeezing his eyes shut as John brushes his thumb over the head of his cock.

“Wanted to be in there with us, huh?” John asks, hooking his thumbs over the waistband of Kyle’s sweatpants, tugging them down so they drop around his ankles. “Did you imagine yourself right in the middle, taking my cock while she takes yours? Or did you imagine yourself taking my cock while our sweet omega sits on your face?”

Kyle lets out a moan, his arms reaching back to grip John’s hips as his legs shake with pleasure. John continues to stroke his cock, pressing a gentle kiss to Kyle’s shoulder.

“We can make that a reality.” John says, squeezing Kyle’s cock, earning a sweet moan in response. “I’ll show you all the places to touch that get her riled up. I’ll show you just how she likes it, how to get her legs shaking around your head.”

Kyle’s nails bite into his skin, but he doesn’t care as he continues to jerk his cock, getting him closer and closer to the edge. Price drags his thumb over the tip, spreading precum on his skin.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Price growls in his ear, pumping his cock faster. “Want to know what she feels like wrapped around your cock?” His teeth nip at Kyle’s ear, his beta’s lips parted as he moans loudly. “Want to know what she tastes like?”

“Fuck...yes!” Kyle almost whines, hips jerking as he cums, spurting all over John’s hand. “Yes, yes, yes!”

John works him through his orgasm, continuing to lazily jerk his cock as Kyle twitches in his hold. He presses his nose against Kyle’s throat, inhaling the intoxicating mix of sweat, coconut oil, and his natural briney scent. He presses a soft kiss against his mark, finally stopping his movements to allow Kyle to recover.

“Good boy.” He praises his beta, wrapping an arm around him to help him to his bed.

“You really mean it?” Kyle asks as he drops onto the mattress, catching his breath.

“We’ll have to ask her, of course.” John grabs Kyle’s sweatpants, cleaning off his hand before tossing them in the hamper. He moves back to Kyle’s bed, joining his beta. “But if she’s up for it, then so am I.”

You’re warm. The ice pack pressed against your forehead does little to soothe the burning under your skin. You’re thirsty, the two empty plastic bottles on your nightstand were not enough to ease the dryness in your mouth.

Hands shift the ice pack, pressing it against your cheek. Your mother is there, seated next to your bed diligently. She’s crying, tears sliding down her cheeks, quiet sniffles breaking the silence in the house.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, bringing your hand to her lips. “I’m so sorry,” She apologizes, as if it’s her fault, as if she brought this onto you.

She gasps quietly as the door opens, her back stiffening as your father enters. His face is stern, mouth almost twisted with disgust as he stares at you. It feels wrong, having him invade your space. If you’d had the energy, perhaps you would have been brave enough to protest his presence.

“Come on.” His voice is gruff, worn down from years of smoking and yelling. “Get up.”

“No, please-” Your mother attempts to reason with him, but he won’t have it.

“Shut up.” He snaps at her, and she has no choice but to sit back and be silent. His voice has something tingling in the back of your neck, almost like a warning. There’s nothing you can do, though. You’re far too weak.

He moves to the side of your bed, grabbing your arm and pulling you up from the comfort of your blankets. The ice pack falls from your head, your skin prickling with warmth almost like it hadn’t been there in the first place. Your brain is sluggish as you try to comprehend what’s happening, your legs giving out as you’re forced upright. You can’t get your body to work, you can’t even force yourself to behave. You want to crawl back under your blankets and lay there for the rest of eternity.

You whine as you’re dragged from your room, knees knocking on the floor as you attempt to get your feet under you to ease the pain in your shoulder. Your father drags you into the living room, two people you don’t recognize standing next to the front door.

“Please, please don’t do this!” Your mother pleads with him, right on his heels as he drops you in a heap in front of them.

“Enough.” Your father snaps at her, looking down at you with disgust. “She’s no daughter of mine.”

You blink up at him, the words registering through the haze. Tears gather in your eyes as you stare up at your parents, your siblings watching tensely from the living room as the scene unfolds before them.

“No, no!” You cry as hands close around your arms, lifting you from the floor. “Mama!” You scream, trying to fight them as you’re pulled from your home, your safe space, your family, your pack.

The last thing you see as the cool air outside washes over your feverish skin is your mother’s grief stricken face before the door closes, locking you out forever.

You wake falling from bed. You hit the floor with a thud, gasping for breath. You slap your hands over your mouth before the sob can tear from your lips, not wanting to wake the others. You’re shaking, your heart thudding in your chest as tears slip down your cheeks, sliding over your fingers as they squeeze over your mouth, desperately muffling the sound.

You hold your breath, forcing the pain and the panic and the grief back in. You can’t have these memories coming back to the surface, not now. Not when good things are finally starting to happen. Not when you’ve finally started to gain a glimmer of hope that things might turn out alright for you. You can’t ruin things now.

You can’t let them see how broken you really are.

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #x reader #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #John price x reader #captain price x reader #Kyle gaz Garrick x reader #gaz x reader #Simon Riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #John soap mactavish x reader #John mactavish x reader

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