#sick to my stomach WHERED ALL THE TIME GO
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 18: Don't Let Me Go
Summary: Things have gone wrong in your pack's absence. Can they make it back in time before irreparable damage is done? Can they fix the damage that's already been dealt?
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Word Count: 10,232...oops
Warnings: ANGST, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, ANGST, anxiety, fear, panic attacks, very descriptive scenes of panic and anxiety, very heavy emotionally in the beginning, major invasions of privacy, hurt/sort of comfort, very brief mention of violence and death, and most importantly: fluff
A/N: Yeah, so this one kind of got away from me. It's definitely one of my favorite chapters now, and it's definitely the longest so far. It's pretty heavy, so plan something fun afterwards because it will hurt. I tried to catch all the possible triggers, but of course, if I miss one let me know. I promise things will begin to take a turn for the happier after this, at least for a bit. Picks up pretty much right where chapter 17 left off.
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You’re shaking. Your breaths are coming in gasps as you stare at your open door. There’s no scent in the air, nothing that would give you a hint of who invaded your space, or if they’re still in there. You should leave, barricade yourself somewhere and call Dr. Keller, or even Kate.
What could they do, though? Your pack won’t be home until tomorrow at the earliest.
No one can help you.
You slowly push your door open, ready to run in case someone is hiding inside. You stand in the doorway, scanning the small space, but there’s no sign of anyone. There’s still no scent either, just your own mingled with the slight chemical burn of scent blockers. Your eyes scan the room, looking for anything that might be new, anything that might be missing, anything that might be slightly out of place.
The clothes on the floor are slightly rumpled, but you’re not sure if you did that in your haste to pull on shoes before you left, or if they’ve been that way since the knock sounded on your door. You lift your gaze to the ceiling, scanning it and that’s when you notice it. The cover over the vent is slightly out of place. You likely wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention, if you hadn’t looked.
The thought sends a chill running down your spine.
You keep your eyes on the vent as you grab your desk chair, kicking clothes out of the way as you move it under the vent. You stand on the chair, reaching for the vent, but it’s not quite enough. You shove the chair to the side, taking everything off your desk before you pull it under the vent. You climb up on shaky legs, your heart thudding in your chest as you remove the vent cover.
Nausea twists at your stomach as your breath leaves you in a sharp gasp. There, strategically placed between two of the gaps in the vent cover, is a camera. It’s small, and would have been invisible just staring at the vent from below. You feel like you might be sick as you pull it free from the vent cover, staring down into the tiny lens.
How long has it been up there?
You drop the camera onto your desk, your fingers shaking and trembling as you feel along the edges of the vent, checking for anything else that might be hiding up there. You replace the cover after you find nothing, a sense of dread filling you.
Had the guys put it up so they could watch you, make sure that you’re safe? Had they put it up there before you arrived? You think about all the times you’ve changed in your room, your heat.
You climb down from the desk, tugging it further towards the center of the room before you climb back up, unscrewing the cover off the light. You check the bulb, looking for any cameras or recording devices. You screw the cover of the light back on after finding none, a quiet sob leaving your lips as you look around your room.
You close the door and lock it before you begin your search, checking every corner and piece of furniture for cameras or recording devices. You empty the dresser and closet, checking every drawer and corner for anything suspicious.
You pull recording devices from under your desk and the back of your nightstand, the adhesive still fresh enough they pop right off. A cold sweat has overtaken you as you find another recording device and another camera, adding them to the growing pile on your desk.
A quiet sob of fear leaves your lips as you check the bathroom, tearing your room apart to check every inch. You search up a tutorial on YouTube, using your phone to check for more possible cameras that you might have missed.
You stare down at the pile of cameras and recording devices on your desk. Someone entered your room and planted them while you were with General Shepherd. It had all been deliberate. Get you away from your room and distracted so they could enter and set up the devices. You wonder if it’s all part of some sick plan, some way to ensure things are going well with your pack. General Shepherd had been very interested in your mark, invading your space without a moment of hesitation to see it firsthand. You would have shown him, had he asked to see it. Instead he’d just done it himself, as if it was nothing.
Your hands are shaking as you find a ziploc bag in the mess you’ve made of your room, putting the cameras and recording devices into it. You drop it onto the floor before stepping on it, listening to the crack of metal and plastic and glass under your shoe. Tears slip down your cheeks as you pick up the bag of broken pieces, taking it to the bathroom. You hide it far in the back of the cupboard beneath the sink, piling things around it and on top of it to keep it hidden.
You stand in the doorway of the bathroom, your skin crawling as you stare at the mess. You don’t feel safe anymore, not even in your own space. The thought of someone breaching the sacred space, entering your room without a second thought to put up cameras makes your stomach churn.
Where will you go? You can’t just leave, find somewhere else to feel safe. What if they did the same to the guys’ rooms? There could have been an entire team of people that came in and put cameras up all over the barracks. A sob leaves your lips as you rush to the door, double checking it’s locked before you shove the dresser against it. You flip your desk up to cover the window as much as it can, just in case anyone tries to climb in.
You sink to the floor in the middle of the disaster that has become your room, sobbing quietly. You want your pack home, you want to feel safe again. You glance at your phone where it’s sitting on a pile of shirts, afraid to even touch it. That woman could have done anything to it while you were with General Shepherd. What if they’re trying to call you and they can’t reach you?
You should try to reach Dr. Keller, tell her what happened, get her to check if there’s anyone lurking around the barracks that shouldn’t be. What if they try to attack her, though? Can she defend herself? You don’t know if she can fight or not. What if she gets hurt because of you? She could ask someone else on base to look, but what if they were involved in it? What if it was someone already on base that had done it? The thought nearly makes you sick.
You’re scared to leave again. What if they’ve noticed you found the cameras and come back while you’re gone? What if they come back while you’re here?
The tears flow freely as you sob, too afraid to even move. You can feel it, the panic starting to bubble up again, the fear welling inside you. Your muscles begin to tense, shoulders pulling up near your ears as you try to defend yourself from this invisible threat. It’s an easy slope from fear to distress, and there’s no one to help you if you start distressing. You press your palms into your eyes, holding your breath to try and shock your body into something other than panic.
You bite back a startled scream as a knock sounds at the door, your heart rate spiking again.
“It’s just me,” Dr. Keller’s voice sounds through the door. “Ready for dinner?”
You take a deep breath, staring at the dresser blocking your door. You’ll have to move it to get out, which she’ll likely notice. You could lie, you could lie easily, but you’re not sure you could keep it up right now. She’ll notice the tears, the obvious signs of panic and distress. She’ll want to know, and you can’t trust yourself not to spill everything.
You should tell her about what had happened, but you know she’ll be disappointed. She’ll think you were stupid for leaving, for not even sending her a text. She’ll tell John when he returns, too. He should know about it, but there’s no way a high ranking General could arrive on base without them knowing, especially one that’s their commander. Maybe it had all been a test. Maybe they do know about General Shepherd and just forgot to tell you this was going to happen.
Maybe Dr. Keller even knew about it, and didn’t say anything because she thought you knew too.
“I-I’m not hungry.” You say, trying to keep your voice from shaking.
There’s a pause outside the door for a moment, a beat of silence that’s too loud.
“Is everything alright?” She finally asks.
“Y-Yeah.” You say, clearing your throat. “Just...not really hungry right now.”
It’s silent again for a beat, making you hold your breath anxiously.
“Are you sure? I can come back later, or bring you dinner.” She says.
“I’m sure.” You swallow the tears welling in your eyes again. “I’ll grab a snack if I get hungry later.”
“Okay...” She says, and you can almost see the frown on her face. “Text or call if you need anything, alright?”
“Yeah.” You say, your voice cracking a bit.
You regret it almost instantly, the urge to shove the dresser out of the way and fling the door open strong as you hear her receding steps down the hallway. You don’t want to be alone, but Dr. Keller can’t give you what you need. The tears start falling again, sliding down your cheeks as you flop onto your back, ignoring the way the edge of a book digs into your spine.
You just want your pack back. You want John to scoop you up into his arms and wrap you in his warmth and soothing scent. You want Kyle and Johnny to squish you between them, sandwich you so tightly you’re scared you might burst. You want Ghost to wrap himself around you and offer you a blanket of protection against anyone who would even dare cast a glance in your direction.
You just want to feel at home again.
You want to be safe again.
***
The emotional and physical exhaustion pushes you into the state between consciousness and sleep. You’ve moved to your bed, tucked under the covers and stuck between the wall and your giant bear, as if it could offer you some form of protection as you float between awareness and somewhere in the realm of sleep for a few hours.
You’re not sure what time it is, when the disruption comes. It takes you a moment to register why you’re awake. Some deep part of your brain is prickling, sending out warning signals to your body. Something’s happening, something’s wrong, something’s posing a threat.
You hold your breath in the silence of the barracks, listening to the slow, quiet footsteps making their way down the hall. For a moment you think you might be imagining them, that you’re still asleep and dreaming. Your fingers pinch at your skin, nails digging in to confirm that you are, in fact, awake. This is really happening.
Your heartbeat picks up, the bitter stench of fear that’s coated your room intensifying as the footsteps pause outside your door. You let out a quiet, shaky breath as you lay there, thinking up every time you checked the door in the last few hours to ensure it was locked and the dresser was still pushed in front of it.
You cover your mouth as the door handle wiggles, catching on the lock. The whimper of fear threatening to rise catches in your throat as you hold your breath, your body trembling under your blankets. You should reach for your phone, send a text to Kate, call Dr. Keller, do something. Yet, you’re frozen in fear as the handle continues to wiggle before stopping.
You don’t release a breath until the footsteps fade, a quiet whimper slipping from your lips. Someone just tried to get into your room.
You’re panicking, breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as you burrow under your covers, barricading yourself between the wall and your bear, hoping you’ll be invisible in case they come back, in case they force their way in. You can’t fight, not after the day you’ve had. The best you can hope for is that your scent is rank enough in the room it’ll deter whoever is trying to get in.
You need tomorrow to come, and fast.
***
Daylight doesn't bring any sense of comfort.
All it does is shed more light on the disaster your room has become, the physical representation of your internal thoughts and feelings. Your face feels puffy from crying, and there’s a bad taste in your mouth. You haven’t brushed your teeth since yesterday, nor have you showered, too scared to put yourself in such a vulnerable position.
You glance at your phone, checking for missed calls, but there’s none. Dr. Keller will be by soon to get you for breakfast, but you’re not sure you can stand going to the mess. The idea of leaving your room, leaving it empty so anyone could just walk in and bug it or touch your things or hide out so they can take revenge on you for finding and destroying their cameras and recording devices has you paralyzed.
That must have been what whoever entered the barracks last night had come to do. Maybe they thought you’d spend the night in one of the other rooms and they’d come to replace them. Or, maybe they wanted you to be in your room. Maybe that was the plan all along.
The thought sends a chill running down your spine.
You burrow back under your blankets, curling up against your giant teddy bear. You wish it was Price, that his arm would wrap around you and hold you close, keep you safe and protected in his arms. You’d take any of them right now, even Ghost. At least you know he’d protect you, especially if someone tried to enter the barracks without permission.
You’re still lying there when Dr. Keller arrives. You stare at the dresser still pushed against the door, keeping you from opening it. Not that you really want to. You can’t stop the anxiety from taking over, bringing forward the image of Dr. Keller held at gunpoint on the other side of the door, trying to trick you into opening it so whoever tried to get in last night can finally do what they came to do.
You know it’s a ridiculous thought. No one would be that stupid in broad daylight, and you doubt Dr. Keller would let something like that happen to her. She’d put up a fight, or at least you hope so.
You can’t move the dresser without her knowing you’d pushed it against the door, which will only prompt questions. Questions you don’t want to answer.
She calls your name through the door, concern lacing her voice. “Everything alright?”
No. You want to scream it, tears gathering in your eyes again. You want to push the dresser out of the way, throw open the door and confess everything that’s happened in the last few hours to her. You want to bring her into your space, keep her there until your pack returns so you can feel even just an ounce of safety.
But what if she gets mad?
Leaving yesterday was stupid. Going off with some unknown beta without telling anyone was the dumbest thing you’ve done since your arrival on base. She’ll be disappointed and she’ll tell your pack and they’ll be disappointed that you didn’t say anything to her about it. Even if they knew it happened, they’d still be disappointed that you didn’t think to even question it, that you didn’t think to let Dr. Keller know what was going on.
You made a stupid decision, and you won’t be able to take their disappointment and anger. Not after everything.
“Yeah.” You call out, your voice shaking. “I-I’m alright.”
You can tell she doesn’t believe you, even though you can’t see her. She probably has that look on her face she gets when she knows you’re not telling the whole truth. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart. You’re afraid it might give out after the stress of the last few days.
“Are you ready for breakfast?” She finally asks, likely giving up on trying to get any more details from you.
You’re not hungry, and you know going to the mess will not end well. The risk of distressing is high, and the thought that any one in the mess might have been the intruder last night nearly sends you over the edge. One wrong glance in your direction might cause you to do something reckless. “I’m not hungry.” You finally say, pulling the blankets tighter around you.
“Are you sure?” She asks. “Did you eat something last night?”
“Yeah.” You lie, trying to keep your voice from breaking. “I had some snacks.”
Her feet shuffle outside the door for a moment, and you can almost hear her sigh. “If you’re sure?”
“I-I’m sure.” You reply.
There’s a moment of silence before you get a response, your breath catching in your throat from the nerves. “Alright.” She finally says. “I got word that your pack will be landing in a couple of hours and we have permission to go out to the airfield and greet them. I’ll come back to get you when it’s time. If you need anything, call me.”
You listen to her footsteps recede down the hallway, tears burning your eyes. You hate lying. You feel bad for keeping the truth from her, but the shame of revealing what you did is too strong.
You hastily wipe your eyes, staring at the mess on your floor. You need to get your room back to at least its somewhat normal state, and you need to put yourself back to your normal state as well. If anyone gets any hint that something is wrong, you might crack, and you’re not sure you could handle the repercussions.
You start with the desk, flipping it back the way it’s supposed to be and positioning it as close to where it was as you can get. You collect the books and other little things that go on it, trying to arrange it as close to how it normally is. You know they’ll notice if any little thing is out of place, if anything looks suspicious. You can blame some of it on cleaning, if they ask. You did some deep cleaning while they were away. That’s one way of putting it.
You push the dresser back into place next, putting the drawers back in before starting on the clothes, putting everything back where it belongs. You make your bed last, the urge to nest gone completely. You’re shaking with exhaustion by the time you finish, tempted to crawl back into bed, but you know you can’t. Your pack is coming back, and you need everything to look like it’s fine still.
They’ll notice. They’ll see it, and they’ll ask, and you’ll have to spill everything and face the shame and anger from being so stupid.
Tears burn your eyes as you slip your desk chair under the door handle, making sure it’s secure before heading to the shower to get ready for your pack’s imminent return. You shower with the door open, getting done quickly to avoid being vulnerable for long. You try to make yourself look as decent as possible, ignoring the fact that there’s broken cameras and recording devices hidden under the sink. Eventually you’ll forget. Eventually it’ll fade from your mind and become nothing more than a forgotten nightmare.
One of many.
You toss your pajamas on the floor haphazardly, just to make things look more normal. You know if it’s too clean, that might raise some suspicions as well. You don’t want to give away that something happened, you don’t want to raise any suspicions. You just want things to go back to normal. You want your pack back, and you want to feel safe again.
At least, until they have to leave again.
You sink to the floor, leaning up against your bed as you wait for Dr. Keller to take you to greet your pack when they return.
***
Every minute seems to drag on infinitely as you stare across the tarmac. They’ll be landing any minute. Any minute now the nightmare will be over and you’ll get to see your pack again after days of being apart. Finally, maybe, you can begin to feel safe again.
You watch the plane as it comes in to land, your hands already trembling in anticipation. There’s a twisting in your stomach, you’re not sure if it’s worry or fear or excitement. They’re so close, so close you can almost smell them. Your omega is scratching at the back of your brain, your muscles twitching as the ramp begins to lower on the plane. You need to see them, you need to smell them, you need to ensure they’re alright.
You can’t stop yourself. As soon as their boots hit the tarmac, you’re running. You don’t care if you’re breaking rules, you don’t care if the other soldiers get worried, or see you as a possible threat, you need to be in your alpha’s arms again.
John grunts from the force of you hitting him, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You throw your arms around him, clinging to him as tight as you can. You’re whimpering, the quiet sounds dragging from your lips but you don’t care. You press your face into his chest, breathing him in. He smells like sweat and musk, the sharp metallic tang of gunpowder burning your nose. Yet, underneath it all, you can make out the earthy scent, the petrichor going straight to your brain.
His arms wrap tight around you, squishing you up against his chest. His vest digs into your skin, but you don’t care. You can’t feel much of anything but relief. His breath fans your forehead as he leans down, his hand cupping the back of your head. He shushes you gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Tears fill your eyes as you cling to him, fingers gripping his shirt tightly like you’re afraid he might disappear again. If it wasn’t for the pain in your chest, you might have thought this was all a dream, that they might disappear suddenly and you’ll wake up alone again.
“Easy.” John rumbles, gently stroking the back of your head.
You cling to him tighter as his hand gets close to your neck, the thought of General Shepherd’s hand being so close to your neck where he could scruff you so easily making your insides squirm.
He’s gone. He’s gone and your pack is here.
“You’re alright.” John tries to reassure you, squeezing his arms around your trembling form. “I’ve got you.”
You keep your face pressed against his chest, breathing him in, trying to get his scent to calm the raging storm within you. Your omega is still scratching at the back of your mind, a deep need to claw your way under John’s skin and into his body pushing at the front of your mind. You won’t be safe until you’ve been utterly consumed by him, until you’re safely tucked where no one can hurt you without going through him first.
“Alpha,” You whine quietly, nuzzling your face against his chest. His clothes are in the way, a barrier against what you need. To feel him, to smell him fully again.
“Easy.” He says, grabbing your hands as they shift towards the velcro straps of his tactical vest. “Let’s get back to the barracks first before we start that, sweetheart.”
You don’t want to go back to the barracks. It’s not safe anymore. What if there’s someone waiting there for you to return? What if they get hurt because you don’t tell them what happened? What if you get hurt and cause them pain?
“You’re alright.” John says, stroking the back of your head as he begins to ease your grip on him. “There’s a couple of muppets here who I think would like to greet you too.”
Right. You’re so caught up in your alpha, you forgot the rest of your pack. You slowly allow yourself to be peeled away from John, Kyle right there to let you cling to him.
And so you do.
Your grip around him is just as tight, ignoring the uncomfortable ridges of his own vest. He holds you just as tightly, projecting his scent just a bit to try and calm you. Someone presses against your back, arms wrapping around both you and Kyle. The scent of citrus lined with beta invades your nose, Johnny squishing you into a sandwich between them. Your eyes squeeze shut as citrus and salty sea air blend together, the beta’s scents reaching deep into your brain to try and ease some of the tension in your body.
They’re back. They’re safe. You’re safe.
Now you just have to convince yourself of that fact.
***
“How was she?” John asks as he approaches Dr. Keller.
“Held it together longer than I thought she would.” She says. “Things took a turn yesterday afternoon. Shut herself in her room and wouldn’t come out. I don’t think she’s eaten anything since lunch yesterday either.”
“We’ll get some food in her.” John says. “Thank you, for looking after her for us.”
“Well, it is partly my job.” Dr. Keller shrugs. “Always happy to do it.”
“Things will get easier, won’t they?” He asks.
“Eventually. She’ll learn what coping mechanisms help and she’ll adapt.”
“Hopefully at least one of us will be able to stay moving forward. I don’t like leaving her here alone.” He grimaces.
“Separation is hard no matter what, especially with limited contact, on all parties involved.” She gives him a look. “I think the best thing you can do right now is just be together as a pack. Let those bonds heal and let her do what she needs.”
“Thank you, doctor.” John says, shaking her hand.
“Call me, if you need anything, as usual.” Dr. Keller says, watching his retreating back before getting into her car to make the short drive back to the medical center.
John gets into the car waiting to take them back to the barracks, sitting next to Kyle who’s holding you straddling his lap, your face pressed into his neck. “That looks safe.” He remarks, even though they wouldn’t be going very fast, or very far.
“Couldn’t get her to let go.” Kyle says, tightening his hold around you as the car begins moving.
“You’re alright, sweetheart.” John says, rubbing your back gently.
You turn your face to look at him, your eyes red from the numerous tears you’ve already shed, and the ones still trailing down your face. The guilt nearly makes him sick as he stares at you, feeling the slight tremble still from where his hand rests against your back.
He’d never say it out loud, but he hates the fact they had to leave you, all four of them at once too. He’d fought, argued. He and Simon could have handled it on their own, even him and the two Sergeants would have been sufficient. Anything not to leave you by yourself during their first deployment.
Despite his attempts, General Shepherd had been insistent that all four of them were necessary for this particular task.
So, he had been forced to leave you behind on your own. It’s gone about as well as he expected, from the looks of it. He knew the separation would get to you eventually. The stress would grow to be too much. Every day he anticipated the news to come from Kate that you had distressed and your omega had taken over because he wasn’t there to help you.
Every day he waited for the news that they’d lost you because the brass that put this initiative into place couldn’t understand why taking them all at once was a bad idea.
Or maybe that was their plan all along.
He couldn’t stop the conspiratorial thoughts running through his head as their mission dragged on. What if they were doing this on purpose? It wouldn’t be that strange to push the boundaries of what could be tolerated for the purpose of testing just how effective the initiative really could be. But pushing it like that so soon? Sure, he could rationalize it was possible. War could break out at any moment, which would require most military members to leave, to be separated from their packs for months or even years. His own team could be called out at any time for months working to eliminate a target and stop war from breaking out.
Yet, he can’t help but feel there was something more, something deeper going on. What if they had called away for more nefarious reasons? What if getting you alone had been the reason behind General Shepherd’s insistence that all four of them were necessary for this particular task? He had refused to entertain those dark thoughts for too long, the fear of leaving you alone already itching in the back of his mind from the moment they boarded the plane to leave.
He hadn’t been able to hide his relief at hearing your voice on the phone. Though you had sounded upset, and rightfully so, his worries had been lessened in knowing you were alright. You would tell them if something had happened. He knows you wouldn’t keep something that serious a secret. If someone had hurt you, or had tried to hurt you, you would tell one of them.
Even though he trusts you, he does plan to speak to Dr. Keller more in depth later to ensure everything went as fine as she seemed to imply it did. Obviously their absence has been hard on you, but he needs to make sure you really will be alright, that you will be able to come back from the obvious distress this has caused you.
***
You finally release your constricting hold on Kyle as the car pulls up outside the barracks. Even with them back, it still doesn't feel like home anymore, not after such sacred space was invaded so easily, so nonchalantly. Kyle climbs out of the car, setting you on your feet on the ground. You look between him and John, realizing Ghost and Johnny are still in the car. Your stomach falls as you realize what they're about to say, tears gathering in your eyes again.
“We still have some things we need to do.” John says, reaching towards you.
You have the momentary urge to flinch from his touch, but you let his hand cup your cheek. “You're leaving me again.” You say, your voice breaking.
John almost looks guilty. He almost looks upset by your visible turmoil. His hand drops from your cheek to your back, turning you towards the barracks. Your stomach twists as he guides you inside, the fear of someone being inside spiking. You know you're safe with John, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but you'd have to play dumb if they did catch someone inside. You’d have to act like you didn’t know someone had entered before, like you had been unaware of anything going on. That might almost be worse than telling them the truth.
You inhale as he stops in front of your door, still closed from when you'd left with Dr. Keller. There's no chemical burn of scent blockers, just your scent in the air, and John's scent coming off him as he stands next to you.
“We won't be long. Maybe an hour at most, and we'll only be across base. We'll come back and we can get lunch before our afternoon meeting. Then we'll just have reports to do, and you can sit in my office while I work on those, okay?” He says.
Your brows pinch as you try to hold in your tears. You want to tell him, you want to reveal what happened, beg him not to leave you alone here again, but you can't. You can't face that shame, the disappointment you know he'll show on his face at the knowledge that you let that happen. You willingly left with a stranger without telling anyone. You let someone invade your pack's space so easily. They were gone for a week and you screwed everything up.
“Tomorrow we'll spend the day together. All of us. I promise.” He says wiping the tear that slides down your cheek.
Even though they're back, you still don't have them.
You inhale shakily before nodding. “Yeah. Fine.”
John's thumb brushes your cheek for a moment before he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
You watch his back retreat as he leaves the barracks, leaving you alone again. You think back to when they’d left you, watching his back as he boarded the plane to be taken from you. You stare at the door as the cars drive off, a cold chill running down your spine. What if General Shepherd is still here? What if they're going to meet with him? What if he tells them he met with you while they were gone and they had no idea?
Maybe you should have been honest with them from the start.
You stare at your closed door, your hands shaking. What if there's someone inside? What if someone is waiting to take their revenge for you destroying the cameras. What if they put new ones up?
You should have opened the door while Price was here so you could have at least screamed when someone would hear you. You back away from your door slowly, deciding to wait in the rec room. At least there you might have a chance. You could break a window and run, or at least have a higher chance of making it to a door.
Would anyone help you? Would anyone come if you screamed? What if they’re all in on it?
You're shaking as you sink onto the couch, sitting so you can see into the hallway. You want to see them coming so you can prepare yourself, or at least give yourself a chance to make an escape before it’s too late.
You run through all the things Ghost has taught you in your head as you sit and wait, the minutes dragging by painfully slow. You can feel every second, though that may just be the anxiety and fear pulsing within you. You wish you could sleep, you wish you could relax, you wish you could do anything to make the time go by faster, but yet you remain hypervigilant, staring so hard you flinch at every little shadow your brain convinces you is moving.
You’re not sure how long you sit there, tense and coiled, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. It can’t be more than an hour as John promised, yet it feels like a lifetime before you hear movement.
You hold your breath as the barracks door opens, boots thudding with every footstep coming down the hall. You nearly whimper when a figure rounds the corner, before you let out a sigh of relief.
“Ready for lunch, kitten?” Johnny asks, standing in the doorway of the rec room.
You swallow the lump in your throat, your hands still clenched into fists. You're breathing hard, your entire body tense. You know you're reaching dangerous territory. Any more panic, you may start distressing. What a welcome home for them, coming back to a distressed omega. They're probably exhausted, and here you are making a scene.
Hands close around yours. Warm, calloused hands apply gentle pressure, slowly uncurling your fingers. Your hands are shaking, trembling just slightly.
“Ye alright, kitten?” Johnny asks, kneeling in front of you. When he moved, you're not sure.
“I-I'm not...” You start, your voice shaking.
“Ye need tae eat.” He counters, as if he had read your mind, expected the answer.
He's right. You're beginning to feel it gnawing in your stomach, something deeper than the anxiety. With all the stressing you've been doing, you know you need to eat something. Being hungry is not helping that any, either.
“I don't want to go to the mess.” You say quickly, the words almost mushing together incoherently. “Too much.”
Johnny sits back, staring at you for a moment before nodding in understanding. “Alright. That's fair. I'll let the lads know.”
He stands up, leaving you alone in the rec room again. You listen to his footsteps fade, the door opening and closing for a moment. You hold your breath, practically on the edge of your seat. There's no reason they would make you go to the mess. You've eaten in the barracks many times before.
You blame your worry on your hunger. You know omegas don't do well when hungry. Omegas don't do well being uncomfortable in general.
Saying these last few days have been uncomfortable for you is a bit of an oversimplification.
Footsteps echo down the hallway, a familiar hulking figure approaching the rec room. You never thought there would come a time when you would feel relief upon seeing Ghost. Yet here you are, the tension easing from your shoulders as he steps into the rec room.
“They're grabbing us food.” He says, moving to sit in his usual spot in the chair facing the door. He sighs as he sinks into the cushions, and you can only imagine how tired he must be.
And here you are making things worse.
“You're stressed.” He says, staring at you. His eyes are still painted black beneath his mask, adding to the eerie vibe coming off of him. You're beginning to understand why they call him Ghost. “Stinking up the barracks.” He says, pulling out his phone.
“Oh.” You say quietly, sinking in on yourself as you sit there. “Sorry.”
You pick nervously at your sweatshirt as you wait for the others to return, letting out a quiet sigh of relief as they enter the rec room, food in hand.
Johnny sits you on his lap as you eat, making sure you get your fill, likely aware that you haven't eaten yet today thanks to Dr. Keller telling on you. It's quiet in the room as everyone eats, even the TV off. They all look tired and tense, and you can only imagine what happened during their time away. The things they did, the things they saw. You wonder how much blood is on their hands now, hands that have touched you, hands that are holding you.
They can just go off and kill people and come back and act like nothing has happened.
You could almost laugh at how psychotic it all sounds.
This is your life now. This is your new normal.
“We have a quick meeting. Shouldn't take too long.” John says as they stand, Johnny placing you gently on your feet.
You tug at your sweatshirt, avoiding his gaze. They're leaving you again. They won't be far this time, but still. You just want to curl up in bed with them and lay there until you feel safe again.
Tomorrow, John had said. Tomorrow they will be yours.
It might have been easier if you hadn't been told they were coming home until tomorrow.
***
You tense under the blanket as the door closes, quiet footsteps approaching your position on the couch. There's a quiet sigh as a figure drops to a knee in front of you, their figure visible as a shadow beneath the blanket.
“Can you breathe under there?”
You slowly lower the blanket just enough to peek over the top of it. John is kneeling next to the couch, his brows furrowed in a frown. You're in his office, having shut yourself in there while they went into the meeting. John had made you swear not to go snooping as he’d let you inside. You had promised, as you still feel no desire to dig through the likely classified files that were locked in the cabinets and on his computer. Instead you had parked yourself on his couch, burrowing under a blanket that smelled faintly of petrichor and tobacco smoke.
“There she is.” He says as you peek above the blanket, gently running a hand over the top of your head. “How are you holding up, sweetheart?”
“You left me.” You say quietly, trying not to burst into tears and confess everything.
“I know.” He says, wiping the tear that slides down your cheek. “But we came back, just like we promised.”
He is right in that regard, yet you can’t help the tears as they slide down your cheeks. The ache in your chest that had started to build over the last few days is still present despite their return. Everything is wrong. They feel too far away, too distant. Nothing is safe anymore, nothing is sacred, and they’re just acting like everything is back to normal.
“Would you like to kneel for me?” He asks, his thumb stroking your cheek.
You’re tempted to say no. For the first time you feel wary of your alpha. What kinds of things would you admit in your dazed state? If he questioned you, would you give him enough to put together that something had happened and you’ve been trying to hide it from him? Maybe it would help, though. It would at least ease some of the tension that’s built up. Maybe it could pull you back from the edge of distress you’ve been dangling over for almost two days. Maybe he’ll accidentally scruff you and you can forget the whole thing happened.
The dark thought sends a chill down your spine.
“Okay.” You say, pushing yourself up to sit.
John offers you a hand, helping you up off the couch. You don't want to let go of his hand, you don't want to be parted from him. The omega in the back of your mind is screaming at you to get close to him and stay there for the rest of time. If he leaves you again...you're not sure you can handle it.
He settles in his desk chair, getting everything he needs ready. He'll work on his reports while you kneel, a familiar position, a familiar situation. You've done this before several times. You're not sure why you're suddenly nervous.
You set the pillow down, dropping to your knees beside him. The chair creaks as he shifts slightly, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head. You fight the urge to flinch, to move away as he gently strokes his hand over your hair. You've done this before, he's done this before. You're not sure why your heart is thudding in your chest.
His hand slowly moves lower, slipping closer and closer to your neck. You can't help it as your shoulders come up, preventing him from gripping the back of your neck. He moves his hand away as you get defensive, his chair turning slightly as he leans down.
“It's alright, sweetheart. It's just me.” He soothes you, his hand returning to the top of your head. “I know it's been a while, but I promise I remember what to do.”
“Sorry, sorry.” You gasp out, trying to relax. “I don't...I don't know...”
You do know. Your brain keeps flashing back to General Shepherd, his hand tugging down your collar, so close to your neck. How easily he could have scruffed you, if he'd wanted to. You would have known if he had, but he could have done anything to you during the time he had control.
“You're stressed, all worked up.” John says, still stroking the top of your head, trying to soothe you. “It's been a long week for all of us. It was a risk, sending all four of us at once. A stupid risk that shouldn't have been taken.”
You're pulled from your emotional state at the slight hint of anger in his voice. It hadn't taken you long to figure out they likely were all sent in order to get you alone. It would have been impossible to get you out of the barracks and put cameras up with even one of them here. Did he know about Shepherd's visit? Had he put two and two together and figured out they sent all four of them on purpose? You figured he'd be angrier if he knew about what you did, about what they did to you. He would be blazing a path straight to General Shepherd if your alpha knew he got so close to you, put you in that kind of situation.
At least, you hope he would. There’s still that fear in the back of your mind, that worry that it was all a test and you’ve failed. Would they send you back to the institute? Would they break the bonds and send you to a different pack? Would they send you out on your own, leaving you to fend for yourself until some other alpha crossed your path and decided you were worth it? Does he know you’re lying to him, hiding the truth of what happened while he was away? Is he waiting for you to confess, biding his time to see how long you try to hide it?
You want to tell him. You really do, but you can't bring yourself to get the words out. You can't bring yourself to confess here on your knees before your alpha. You feel guilty, like a sinner, yet the shame keeps the words trapped inside.
He continues to soothe you, sliding his hand further down until he reaches your neck. You force yourself to relax, knowing you need this. You need your alpha to take control. You need him to ease the heavy weight on your shoulders, even if he doesn't know what he's lifting.
You close your eyes as his fingers press into your neck, your brain quieting to a hum as you begin to slip into the back of your mind. You feel the rush of endorphins as your brain begins to calm itself, quieting the storm that's been raging for almost a week. You begin to go numb, relaxing into John's hold as he eases you into a quiet, meditative state. He begins to work on his reports as he holds you, your mind floating off somewhere else, somewhere safer where no one can break in and hurt you, somewhere where the barracks are still secure and safe and your pack never left.
Somewhere where there's no initiative, and your pack picked you because they wanted you, because you were a good omega who did as she was told and didn't make stupid mistakes that put everyone in danger.
The last of the tension leaves your body, your mind distant from the present moment. You're safe with your alpha. He'd never let anything happen to you. None of your pack would let anything happen to you.
The thought continues to repeat in your head like a mantra as you relax, held up by the strong pillar that is your alpha.
***
“Report's done, Captain.” Kyle says, placing the stack of papers on John's desk.
“Thanks.” John sighs, grabbing them.
Kyle turns to look at you, fast asleep on the couch. “You want me to take her?” He asks, the formality easing between them as they settle into being a pack and not a task force on duty anymore.
John stares at you, curled up on his lumpy old couch. It’s getting late, or at least it feels that way. You’ve been out, sleeping peacefully on his couch since he eased you out of your kneeling position. You’d clung to him tightly, and for a moment he’d considered holding you, letting you sit with him as you dozed, but he knows he can’t risk you seeing something you shouldn’t. So he’d eased you onto the couch, having to peel your hands away from his shirt. He’d nearly given up and let you keep hold of his shirt before you finally relaxed and released him.
“Would probably be more comfortable.” He rubs his eyes, feeling the call of sleep himself. He wonders how much you managed to sleep while they were gone. You look tired, though you’ve been looking tired since your heat ended. He needs to rest himself, but he wants to get these reports done so he can keep his promise for tomorrow. “I'll be in there soon.”
“Don't work too hard.” Kyle says, moving to lift you off the couch.
“No promises.”
Kyle shakes his head before scooping you up off the couch, blanket and all. You’re still sound asleep as he carries you, pausing in the hallway for a moment. He had just been instinctually going to his room, but would you be more comfortable in your own room? You probably have spent the last week shut inside your space. It might be nice to spend some time somewhere else.
He takes you into his room, laying you on the bed, making sure you’re comfortable. He needs to shower and throw his clothes in the wash, but he doesn’t want to leave you and risk you waking up without someone there. You’re sleeping deeply, though, not even stirring as he tucks the blanket up higher around you. He doesn't want to crawl into bed smelling like gunpowder and sweat. That might throw you off too.
He takes the risk, knowing he can do both tasks quickly. No more than twenty minutes to get himself clean and his dirty clothes in the wash, as he prays you stay asleep and won't start panicking if you wake in a strange place. He had sensed how close you had been to distress, how tense you had been when he held you in the car. It’s been a hard week for you, even harder than it had been for them.
He breathes out a quiet sigh of relief as he finds you still asleep when he returns to his room. You haven't moved at all, still tucked under the blanket from John's office. He gets himself changed and moisturized, rubbing some cream on the bruises that dot his skin. He's going to be sore tomorrow, they all will be, but he knows they won't be doing much. John had already told them tomorrow will be dedicated to spending time with you and helping you recover from the stress of them being gone. He’s silently glad for the break, knowing it could only be a few days before they get called out again.
John had also told him he’d be pushing harder for one of them to stay whenever he can. He’s not taking this risk again, not if it can be avoided.
Kyle’s pulling on his sweatpants when you inhale sharply. You're sitting up straight on his bed, eyes wide as you look around in fear. They’re hazy, confusion settling into your mind after going from John’s office to Kyle’s room after kneeling.
“Hey, hey. It's alright.” Kyle says, moving over to the bed, taking a seat on the edge so he’s in your line of sight. “You're just in my room.”
“Kyle?” You whisper, clarity returning to your gaze as you stare at him.
“I'm here.” He says. “Just went to take a shower and clean up.”
“Where's John?” You ask, tears gathering in your eyes.
“Still working on things.” He says, cupping your face. “He'll be in eventually.”
The tears fall from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks. They wet his thumbs as he strokes your skin, your body trembling slightly as you sniffle.
Something’s wrong. He's known it since you latched onto him on the tarmac. The way you'd held onto him like he might disappear, how you looked almost angry when John told you they still had things to do, the way your scent had filled the barracks, bitter with fear and stress.
Something’s up, something you're not letting them in on. But, to be fair, they had just left you for a week, up and abandoned you to go play heroes. He wouldn't blame you for not telling them anything. The bonds have weakened. He can feel it, beyond just his natural beta senses.
“What can I do?” He asks quietly, trying to project his scent a bit to help calm you. He doesn't want you distressing, not after holding it together for so long.
“I...I need...” You inhale shakily, still trembling in his hold. “I don't know.” You whine, the tears falling faster now.
He pulls you against his chest, holding you as you cry. He feels the tugging in his chest, sympathy for you and what you must be feeling, along with the guilt of knowing they caused this. They did this just with their absence.
An idea begins to form in his mind as he holds you, something his family used to do when he was younger.
He pulls away from you, standing up. “Come on. I have an idea.”
He strips the blankets from his bed before pulling the mattress off the frame. He drags it to the door and out into the hallway before heading down to John's room. You follow behind him, watching him as he opens the door to John’s room, dragging the mattress in and dropping it on the floor.
“Stay here.” He tells you, heading back out into the hallway.
“What're ye doin’?” Johnny asks, sticking his head out of his door.
“Grab your mattress and Simon and meet me in Price's room.” Kyle says as he heads down the hallway, ignoring Johnny's further questioning as he makes for John’s office.
He doesn't bother knocking, walking right in. John blinks at him from behind the desk, and for a moment Kyle wonders if he'd fallen asleep sitting up. It wouldn't be the first time.
“Come on.” Kyle says, moving to stand in front of his desk. “Finish those tomorrow.”
“They're important, I have to get them done asap.” John counters.
“Yeah, well I have something more important.” He leans forward at John's questioning stare. “Your omega needs you.”
John stares at his beta for a moment, and Kyle can see the gears turning in his head, the debate happening, the conflict in his mind. He so rarely sees his alpha, his captain so indecisive for so long. He's usually so quick to act, analyzing a situation and making a decision in mere seconds.
If only you knew the things you've done by simply existing in their lives.
John closes the file on his desk, slipping it into the drawer before locking it. Kyle fights the triumphant grin threatening to form on his face as John stands from his chair after shutting his computer off. Kyle makes his way back down the hallway, John following behind after locking his office door. Kyle stops at his room, grabbing his comforter before heading for John’s room.
Johnny had obviously gotten the idea of what Kyle had in mind, his mattress and John's laid out side by side so the three make one giant bed for them on the floor. He’s already laid out his own comforter and Simon’s, as well as John’s on the mattresses. They probably wouldn’t need blankets for long with their body heat, but the blend of scents will hopefully begin to ease the tempest raging in your mind.
You’ve parked yourself in the corner, watching it all happen. You seem so small, so lost, so out of place. It's not all that different from when you'd arrived in their lives. Has being gone for a week really reverted things so drastically for you? Has your stress broken the bonds so much that you feel like a stranger amongst them again?
Kyle steps over the mattresses, approaching you slowly. You look up from where you had been staring off into space, blinking up at him. Your eyes are still red and watery from crying, your arms clutching one of your stuffed bears against your chest. It’s the one John had scented for you, back when they were trying to get you to nest. He wonders if you’ve nested since they left, if that urge is still there, or if that too has faded.
Kyle doesn’t often feel angry at his job. Not anymore. He doesn’t often question it. It’s what he signed up for, and he does it because someone has to. He chose this life, so he does his best to be a good soldier, to follow orders. Yet, as he stares down at you, he can’t help but feel anger bristling in the back of his mind. He tries to blame it on his instincts, on the fact that a member of his pack is so upset, so distressed at something that’s happened, and he doesn't know what to do to help.
Yet he knows they were the cause of it, even if it wasn’t their choice directly. Something happened because of them. He tries to rationalize it. This is an experiment, a test to see how well packs will do with omegas, if it has any effect on how well they can do their jobs, if it makes them stronger, or if it weakens them. Those in charge had obviously put little regard in for how it would affect the omegas. They couldn’t have known how you would react, how badly all of them leaving would affect you. Or maybe they did know, and they simply didn’t care.. Perhaps you weren’t the focus of their study, but you were still a variable, you were still an important piece of this puzzle.
How can they be more effective if their omega is struggling because of their absence? How can they be expected to function like a team now knowing leaving behind their omega will only cause distress for all of them?
Kyle takes a deep breath, pushing back the anger and the emotions whirling in his own mind. He needs to focus on you right now, focus on helping you relax, helping you get back to where you were before they left you. He’s doing the best he can do right now for you, giving you what you need, even if you don’t realize it’s what you need yet.
He holds out his hand to you, staying still as you stare at it. It takes you a moment before you slowly begin to move, slipping one of your hands into his. He guides you to the mattress in the middle, Johnny’s mattress, easing you down to sit on it. You glance around as Johnny and John toss pillows onto the mattresses haphazardly, making sure everything is perfect. It’s not a pretty nest, he’d hardly call it a nest at all, but he knows nesting is not necessarily all about looks. It’s about feeling, and right now, he knows you need to feel safe and secure.
John quickly changes into more comfortable clothes as Kyle stretches out on the mattress, opening his arms to you. You curl up against his side, resting your cheek against his chest. You press your face into his skin, inhaling for a moment before you settle, slowly beginning to relax in his hold.
Simon enters the room as John settles on Kyle’s other side, closing the door behind him and locking it, securing the five of you inside. Johnny settles on the other side of you, pressing up close against your back. He pulls one of the comforters up around the three of you before he tosses an arm around you, resting his hand on Kyle’s stomach, sandwiching you between the two betas again.
Simon stands over the makeshift nest, staring down at the four of you. He’s obviously the most uncomfortable with the situation, and still a bit miffed from your lack of greeting on the tarmac. It was his own fault for being so closed off with you for so long. You had instinctively sought out the members of the pack you felt the most connected to, the most comfortable with in your time of such great stress.
“Aw come on, ye big bastard, get in the bed.” Soap says, snapping Simon out of his reverie.
Simon shuts the light off, bathing them in near darkness. You tense for a moment as the lights go off before you slowly relax again. Kyle listens to your breaths even out as Simon gets comfortable on the mattress behind Johnny, the four of them settling in around you.
It's already warm in the room but none of them would even think of complaining. They’re too focused on surrounding you with their scent and their protection, the very thing you need the most.
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#call of duty#call of duty fic#task force 141 x reader#poly task force 141#john price x reader#captain price x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#x reader#alpha/beta/omega#a/b/o#omegaverse
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tachycardia pt.2 - cl16
pairing: doctor!charles leclerc x nurse!reader (alpha/omega au)
summary: in which you don't always get along with the arrogant alpha doctor
warnings: LIGHT a/b/o dynamics, angst??, none really (yet!), badly translated French (didn't really put french in this), NOT PROOFREAD
word count: 1.5k
author's note: hi!!!!!! did you miss me??? I missed all of you! sorry this is SO short but I wanted to post something in honor of reaching 2,000 FOLLOWERS!!! I love u all sm and I'm sorry this is kinda shit. I've been in a really bad writing funk recently but I'm hoping to get out of it. don’t forget to talk to me and don’t be shy I love to hear from all of you!!!! I will try to get the ball rolling on this series as soon as I can. I just kinda started it without even knowing where I wanted it to go so I'm kinda just winging it as I write with whatever comes to mind. if you have anything you would like to see happen in this series PLEASE don’t be shy and let me know I love to hear your thoughts and ideas!!!! xoxo
taglist: @amalialeclerc @barcelonaloverf1life @charizznorizz @magicpancake @zabwlky1999
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
AS YOU SIT across from your younger sister in the cozy confines of the café adjacent to the bustling hospital, you can’t help but marvel at the enigmatic workings of her mind.
“Is it really like that? Sex in the on-call rooms?” The question bursts forth accompanied by a hearty laugh, your body leaning forward in laughter.
“How many times do I have to tell you no?” You retort, meeting her gaze with an air of firmness amidst the playful banter.
“What about in the locker room?” She presses further, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“No, and stop indulging in such ludicrous fantasies.” You respond, bringing your cup of coffee to your mouth, you pause before taking a sip. “You know well enough that I don’t engage in relationships with doctors.” A fleeting sense of contentment washes over you with the warmth of the coffee.
She emits a deep sigh, deeply annoyed. “Are any of them at least cute?”
You feel your stomach churn as the image of Doctor Leclerc floods your thoughts. He’s far more than just attractive. You hesitate for a beat, staring at her wide, expectant eyes. “Yes.”
Her eyes light up almost instantly. “Who?”
“I forget. I don’t really know him.” Liar.
“What does he look like?”
“Brown hair. Very green eyes.” Your fingers twiddle with the napkin on the table, feigning disinterest.
She gives you a skeptical look as if she can read your mind and tell you’re lying. But she doesn’t push further. “When do you have to be back?”
You briefly glance at the time on the screen of your phone, “Shit.” Rising abruptly, you shove the chair back with a jolt, shooting your sister an apologetic glance. “I have to go. I’ll see you at mom’s this weekend?”
You’re already pushing the front door of the café open by the time you hear your sister half-shout, “Yes!”
-
You burst into your patient’s room, breaths coming in ragged gasps, cheeks flushed with exertion. You say a silent prayer to whatever higher power that he wasn’t here yet.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
Did you mention that this particular patient has a knack for hitting on you?
Your heart skips a beat, and if it weren’t for the already flushed hue of your cheeks, you’re certain the blush creeping up on your neck would be glaringly obvious.
“Mr.,” You pause to glance at the chart to double-check his name, “Mr. Hart, how are you feeling today?”
“Meilleur, now that you’re here.” Better. You curl your lips upward into a soft smile, jokingly rolling your eyes at his antics.
“Surely you’re sick of seeing my face, Mr. Hart.” You quip, reaching for a stool beside his bed while simultaneously checking his IV bags. “Today’s the day I think!”
Mr. Hart has been in the hospital for over a week, recovering from a surgery for a atrial septal defect.
“Jamais.” Never. He insists, his head sinking back against the pillow as his gaze follows your every movement. “I’m so close to being able to ask you out properly.”
In that moment, a new scent permeates the air, distinct and alluring. Without even turning around, you sense his presence—the man who just breezed in behind you. Whether he heard the exchange or not, you weren’t sure, but the subtle shift in the atmosphere is palpable regardless.
“Mr. Hart,” His voice, deep and honeyed, washes over you, almost too sweet to be genuine. “Still stirring up trouble for our lovely nurses?” Despite the playful tone, you can sense an undercurrent of something morecalculated beneath his words. His presence radiates warmth, his tall figure looming beside you, close enough to make your skin prickle with awareness.
“No,” Mr. Hart grins. “Just her.”
Doctor Leclerc’s smile remains fixed, but you catch the subtle clench of his jaw as you turn your head to meet his gaze. “Just stopping by to let you know that we might need to keep you for another night.”
The news catches you off guard; you were under the impression that Mr. Hart would be discharged by the end of the day. As if he could sense the questions brewing in your mind, Doctor Leclerc continues, his voice reassuring. “Just a precautionary measure. I assure you; we’ll have you cleared to leave bright and early tomorrow morning.”
Mr. Hart hums nonchalantly, as if the prospect of another night in the hospital doesn’t bother him in the slightest. His attention remains fixated on you as you inspect the sutures on his chest, his fingertips grazing against your gloved hand with a deliberate touch. “Can’t complain as long as she’s the one checking on me.”
You let out a small laugh, but don’t say anything, as you stand up and remove the gloves to toss them in the waste bin nearby.
“Mr. Hart,” Doctor Leclerc’s voice is unamused now. “You would be wise to refrain your hands from touching her again. Next time I won’t ask so politely.”
-
Pressed against a wall while in the presence of Doctor Leclerc seems to be a common occurrence nowadays. His tall frame blocking any potential onlookers from seeing who he had cornered.
“Dis-moi,” Tell me. His voice is low, lethal. “Do you flirt with patients often, hm?”
“What is your problem?” You quip, your brows furrowed as you crane your neck back to look him in the eyes.
“My problem?” He scoffs, leaning closer to your face, his lips thinned in annoyance. “My problem is that I have to stand there and watch a patient flirt with you,” He clicks his tongue in frustration, turning his head to look away for a brief moment. Giving you a moment, to take in the sharpness of his jawline, and the unshaven scruff that shadows it. “And you…” His voice trailed off.
“And I, what?” You pulled your lips into a slight frown.
“You smell like that,” His hands wavered around your body, in an exasperated manner.
“Smell like what?”
As he shook his head in disbelief, a mixture of frustration and something deeper etched acoss his features. The disbelief seemed to stem from his inability to fathom that you were completely unaware of something soevident to him. It was that scent, the sweet floral scent that always accompanied you. It drove him mad sometimes. How it was almost the only thing he could focus on sometimes.
With a disapproving click of his tongue, he took a deliberate step back, as if needed physical distance to collect his thoughts.
Ignoring your inquiry, his gaze softened, the intensity in his eyes giving way to a gentler expression as they locked on yours.
Caught off guard by the swift change in his demeanor, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of whiplash from the abrupt shift.
“I wouldn’t say often,” you began, punctuating the order with a slight shrug. “It’s all harmless.”
His response was solemn, his voice carrying a weight of protectiveness that left no room for misinterpretation. “I don’t want them to put their hands on you ever again,” he declared firmly. “If you ever have issues, you can come to me.”
His words resonated with a gravity that made it clear he meant every syllable, his stance unwavering in its determination to shield you from harm.
Your throat tightened as you swallowed, acutely aware of the intensity in his gaze tracing the delicate curve of your neck.
“Moving forward, I will be the one to check on Mr. Hart,” he announced, his voice carrying a note of authority softened by a touch of concern.
With a deliberate motion, he extended his arm, his fingers brushing against your skin as he gently tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear.
The proximity of his touch sent a rush of warmth to your cheeks, the tenderness in his gesture catching you off guard, yet somehow soothing in its unexpectedness. Dr. Leclerc’s presence seemed to envelop you whenever he was near. As if nothing else in the world existed no matter the premise of the discussion, including the constant bickering you two always seemed to do.
“Will you be at James’ retirement party?” The question slipped from your lips before you could fully weigh its significance. Yet, deep down, you knew the answer matters more to you than you cared to admit. You found yourself wanting him to be there, though the reasons remained elusive, even to yourself.
Yes, he was an ass to you most of the time. But, for some reason you couldn’t really fathom, he was always in the forefront of your mind.
His head tilted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. Though he would never openly confess, the idea of attending hadn’t crossed his mind until that moment. However, if there was even the slightest chance that you would be there, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse.
“Yes,” he replied simply, the single word carrying more weight than its brevity suggested.
You nodded slowly, as if processing his response required a deeper level of understanding. “See you there?” You ventured, the question hanging in the air, pregnant with unspoken implications.
He nodded, pulling his lips into the faintest smirk.
“See you there, mon lapin.”
#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc#charles leclerc smut#f1 imagines#f1 x reader#charles leclerc angst#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fic#f1 imagine
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Would loveeee to see hector super sick and feverish with a stomach bug where all he wants is to be comforted by Isaiah/Arnie/both- just love his softer side- pretty sure he’s a softie deep down 🤭
Hey nonny! Thank you for the request!! Found a good way to insert it. This will have a part 2 for another request hehe.
Something serious
Hector burst through the door, heading straight for the kitchen without a word of greeting.
Arnie was not taking it personally, but he was curious about what kind of hunger spree made Hector so desperate.
He got up from the couch to check. "Did you skip lunch or-?
Except Hector wasn't riding their fridge. He was braced over the kitchen sink and retching loudly.
"Oi. Okay," Arnie said with a wince as a huge gush of puke hit the bottom of the granite. "What happened to you?"
"Ate-uuurp-too fast." Hector burped up another mouthful before spitting and letting the faucet run over the mess.
"Really? Wasn't something off about the food?" Hector's speed and capacity were way too impressive for this to happen easily.
Hector swiped his wrist over his mouth, sweaty all over.
Arnie tore off a handful of kitchen towels and handed it to him.
Hector took it gratefully, mopping his face and mouth. "I was so hungry at lunch that my stomach hurt. Must have eaten too quick, cause I got queasy on the way." Hector put a hand on his belly as it whined loudly. For puking just a minute ago, his stomach looked distended, as if he was still full.
"Sure it was hunger? Maybe you were getting down with something and ate lunch on top," Arnie sighed, grabbing Hector by the elbow to steer him towards the living room. "How many times do I have to say that you shouldn't eat, when your stomach is hurting?"
Hector was feeling crappy enough to follow Arnie's guidance, flopping down on the couch and curling his hands protectively around his middle. "Ugh. Thought it would help."
Arnie rolled his eyes. ""It's always the same with you—no restraint. Listening to your body's signals could have spared you from all this puking."
Hector huffed. "Stop lecturing, snotnose, and get me some water."
Arnie stuck his tongue at him, but obeyed, getting some cold water from the kitchen, checking if the sink was clean on the way.
Hector gulped down the water greedily, even as Arnie patted his hand. "Slow down, you'll make yourself sick again."
To be fair, Hector tried to slow the tempo before it picked up again. Arnie sat down next to him with a grimace. No helping that.
"You want to watch something and take it easy?" Arnie asked, putting the back of his hand to Hector's forehead. He was a little warm. "I think you should rest. Looks like a flu to me."
Hector, feeling evidently better, swatted his hand away. "And whose fault is that? You're the only flu spreader around. Damn human germs."
Arnie gave him another eye roll. "Your immunity needs some work then, if you catch things that I don't even have symptoms for."
Arnie put on a rerun of Big Bang Theory, which was usually so foreign and boring to Hector that it put him to sleep. And he was right, his older brother was snoring away, head lolling to the armrest, in a few minutes.
After two episodes, Hector stirred though, grimacing with a moan.
"You want a blanket?" Arnie asked quietly as Hector curled into himself, although he could see some more sweat beading on his neck.
"Nah. Think I'm just going to sleep this off in the bed," Hector said, not bothering to muffle a burp as he got up clumsily. His hand shot up to cradle the top of his belly like it was about to fall open.
"You sure you didn't eat something spicy at lunch?" Arnie said, watching him stumble out with another burp. "You get disgusting like that every time."
Hector gave him an angry glare. "I do not. I can handle spicy food."
Arnie snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Tell that to someone who doesn't have to live with you and hear all the consequences."
Hector grunted something crude on his way, which caused Arnie to chuckle.
It wouldn't be unusual in the slightest if he did eat something spicy and then played it off as a flu just to not feel embarrassed.
It would be fine. Hector was a grumpy patient, even if it was the flu, but as long as he stopped eating and took a day off, he would be fine.
Wolves were so senstive to pain. Just a bit of discomfort, and they were all dramatic and moaning. Hector more than most. Physical injuries he got rid of with his shadow, so any sickness, cold, or flu that wouldn't heal had him up in arms and whiny. Arnie had gotten used to not taking it too seriously.
Arnie watched a few more episodes, checking his phone and dozed off on the couch himself.
He went to check on Hector, but he looked peacefully asleep in the bed.
Arnie prepared him a glass of water and a bucket, just in case. Leaving the door open and satisfied with his precautions, he went to his own room, catching the sleeping wave before it was worse off.
...
Arnie woke up to the harsh sounds of throaty retches. Scrambling up a little slow from sleep, he braced himself on the doorframe in Hector's room, switching the small bedside table lamp on.
Hector didn't even get up, hunched over the bed and heaving over the bucket.
What did, however, get up was his shadow. It was sprawling across the wall behind the bed and wiggling uneasily across the floor.
Arnie stepped around it gingerly. Hector's shadow wouldn't hurt him, he knew, but it was a scary big thing to crawl around his feet.
Despite Hector's best efforts, the bucket was basically empty, only spits of yellow bile inside.
Arnie sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed sleepily. Always so dramatic with Hector.
"Hex, you got nothing inside you, you are empty," he said, patting his back.
"Doesn't-doesn't feel like it-" Hector coughed between heaves.
He moaned, clutching the side of his belly as he lay back down, breathing harshly. "That freaking hurt."
"Flu it is," Arnie said with a yawn. "You are heaving even when running on empty."
"Then why the hell does it hurt?" Hector complained, sniffling. Arnie admonished himself for not bringing some more paper towels, too.
"It's normal to get cramps during the flu-"
"No, not crampy" Hector protested through gritted teeth. "It fucking hurts. And the pain travels."
Arnie frowned. "Travels? What?"
"The spot," Hector said, clutching at the right side of his stomach. It was still bloated, even though he had nothing to vomit. Arnie's eyebrows scrunched even more. This was starting to get weird.
"It was in the middle and now it's freaking here and it feels like someone stabbed me," Hector said angrily, just a breath away from whining. His shadow made an aggressive, wavy motion above their heads.
Arnie rubbed at his eyes, much more alert now. "So to sum it up - you felt sick during lunch, thought it was hunger, threw up at home and you were in pain since then?"
"I - I felt kind of off yesterday too, but like...just sluggish? Thought I was tired." Hector rolled onto his back, hands sliding lower on his right side.
Arnie leaned in closer. "Show me." He gently pried Hector's hands away, lifting up his shirt. His stomach was still so blown up, but he could see nothing on the spot. It seemed too specific for a place though, lower right abdomen...he pushed his hands around, trying to find some kind of physical proof, a bump or swell. Hector didn't protest his poking, eyes closed and pinched.
Arnie was the one with any basic knowledge of human anatomy and complications, since Hector always insisted that were human weaknesses that had nothing to do with him.
Arnie retracted his hands with a sigh, considering writing it off as a cramp lasting too long, when Hector whimpered. Like a real little whimper. He locked his limbs together, arms around his stomach again, tears leaking out. His shadow all but flooded the damn room, swinging angrily from one side to the other at Hector's pain.
"What, what did I do?" Arnie asked in panic, falling to his knees on the floor and taking Hector's forearm in both hands. "Hex? Hex, what-"
Hector twitched under his hands, twisting his face into the sheets as a trickle of bile came out of the corner of his mouth.
"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry!" Arnie said, pressing his forehead to Hector's as his older brother rode the pain out.
Hector said nothing, another little whimper coming up.
Arnie got up as quickly as he could to grab his phone. He dialed up the ambulance and called as he returned, not wanting to leave Hector alone.
"Noooo, no hospital," Hector whined pitifully.
"Yes, we have to," Arnie said in a strangled noise, putting his free hand on Hector's shoulder. "Please. Trust me. This is something serious."
With great effort, Hector pulled a hand away from his stomach and clutched Arnie's forearm, breathing raggedly as they both waited for the medics.
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Could you maybe write a Sally Face One Shot, where Sal developed a huge crush on reader. But he thinks she doesn’t feel the same way. So he writes a love letter in which he puts no hope in, but then she actually tells him she does feel the same.
Does that even make any sense?😭
Yes…it makes sense and I’m weeping over this omggggg 😭😭😭 bruh this had me screaming and kicking in bed as I wrote it omfgggggg. Sal is pretty smart so I know this mf would write some pretty, thought out, poetic type shit
Notes: gn!reader, established friendship, friends to lovers trope
TW: none, just so fucking sappy and fluffy
Sal x reader- Sincerely Sally 💌
Dear (Y/N),
I want to start by telling you that you’re an amazing friend. I’m beyond grateful we’ve met. You’ve always made me feel so comfortable, so wanted, so important. No words could ever truly explain my feelings for you or the thoughts behind them, but I’m going to try.
Since we met, I’ve seen nothing but good in you and I think you’ve made me good, too. You make me feel good. You make me a better person. I don’t know who I’d be without you, but I know who I want to be now.
I want to be the one on your arm when we walk into a room.
I want to be the one you wake up to every morning and fall asleep next to every night.
I want to kiss you every time we say ‘good bye’ and every time we say ‘hello’ again.
I want to be the one you point to with a smile and say ‘him’ when talking to others.
I want to be the one to hold you when you cry.
I want to be the one to hug you when you’re excited.
I want to go every where you go.
I want to slow dance with you.
I want to head bang with you.
I want to paint with you.
I want to sing to you.
I want to hold you.
I want you.
I love you.
I’m in love with you.
And I’m sorry.
Sincerely,
Sally <3
Sal felt like a total loser while sneaking over to your place, which was just down the street from Todd’s house, and slipping the letter in your mailbox. He felt like he could puke just from writing the letter, there’s no way he could ever say these things to your face. He couldn’t help but hesitate, staring at the mailbox as his heart beat rapidly in his chest. ‘They’re going to hate me. I’m gonna ruin everything. What the hell am I doing?’ Sal thinks to himself, staying frozen in place for a good few minutes as thousands of thoughts race through his mind, shaky hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.
He jumps a bit when he notices the light in your bedroom flick on through your window. He ducks his head and turns to leave, not wanting to get caught lurking around your house in the middle of the night. As he rushes back home, the panic begins to set in because now he realizes he left it…he left the letter behind. It was done. No turning back. He felt sick to his stomach and like he was already grieving the loss of your friendship.
Sal tip toes back in the house, praying neither Neil nor Todd would catch him sneaking in so late and ask questions. He trudges to his room, shedding his clothes before flopping onto his bed. Sal lays on his side and after taking his prosthetic off, stares at the wall for hours thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, all the ways you could reject him, every excuse and lie he could use later to act like it wasn’t even serious, like it was a dumb joke or something. Finally, after his brain had tortured him enough, he drifts off to sleep just before the sun begins to rise.
~next morning~
‘Holy shit…’ You think as you hold the piece of lined note book paper in your shaky hands. “No way…no way!” A giddy smile grows on your face as you clumsily drop all the other mail you had in your hands, besides Sal’s letter, on the ground and take off running for him. It was early in the morning and you were in pajamas still but nothing could stop you now. His house was not far at all and you were too excited not to immediately run to him and profess your love for him.
You and Sal had been friends almost as long as he has with Larry and Todd. You’ve slowly fallen in love with him just as hard as he has with you- the issue is that you are both dummies and think the other person sees you as a friend and a friend only. You’d find yourself dreaming of Sal, not knowing he was dreaming of you too. You’d absentmindedly doodle his name on piece of paper and blush, he’d find a strand of your hair on his shirt and smile so big under his mask. You two have been pining for so long but both so afraid to wreck the relationship you already have. Eventually, Sal felt like he couldn’t get anything done, couldn’t focus on his studies or the ghosts or even eating throughout the day. His brain was full, flooded even, with thoughts of you. He just had to get it out, he had to say it to you now or he would be haunted by it forever. Unbeknownst to Sal…you felt the exact same way.
Bouncing up to his doorstep with an uncontrollable smile on your face, cheeks aching and turning red, you knock on the door and ball your fists up out of excitement. Finally, Todd answers the door, smiling at you before greeting you. “(Y/N)! What are you doing here so early? We-“ “Sal! I-I’m sorry. I need to talk to Sal.” You interrupt, your crazy smile making Todd chuckle softly just as Neil comes up behind him. “Morning, (Y/N)! Sal isn’t up yet. He’s still-“
You weren’t trying to be rude, you adored Todd and Neil but you were currently completely 100% hyperfixated on the sleeping blue haired poet behind the door at the end of the hall way and you just had to see him immediately. “I-I’m sorry…” You laugh softly as you push past them, sprinting for his door, gripping the knob excitedly before swinging the door open. The sound of the door swinging back against the door frame stirs Sally from his sleep, making him groan and glance over at the doorway. Before he can react to you being in his bedroom, in your pajamas still with bed head and an adorable love sick smile on your face, you’re jumping into his blankets with arms wide open. As you practically belly flop on top of him, he huffs softly then chuckles, groggily blinking at you.
“Uh…morning…” He mumbles just before you place the folded love letter on his chest, giving him a small smirk. His eyes open wider now, his prosthetic eye not in its usual socket. Sal scrambles nervously to sit up more, his breath hitching in his throat. He was so half asleep for a moment there, he had forgotten all about the letter he planted in your mailbox last night. “Oh I uh….yeah uh-uhm-“ Sal can’t seem to move his mouth correctly, can’t focus his brain on the words he wants to say. And he just breaks down even more when he realizes you’re in his bed, still in pajamas with the cutest messiest bed head. He can’t deal with the cuteness and his gnawing anxiety…So you speak up instead.
“I love you too.” You smile sweetly before pulling yourself up closer to his scarred face and rubbing your nose against his. Sal lets out a whiny little hum as he lets his nervous hands very slowly move up to rest on your back, smiling like a sappy dork as he hugs you softly. He’s not sure what exactly he was expecting to happen after giving you that letter but this is most definitely the best case scenario. “Let’s just…fucking kiss already.” You say with a cheeky smile, eyes half lidded as you lean in closer. Sal sucks in a breath before letting his eyes close along with yours, pursing his lips out as his hands move up your arms and to your cheeks. His big palms caress your face so perfectly, his thumbs sliding back and forth over your skin as you lock lips, gently moving your mouths together as soft sighs leave both of you.
As his hands pull your face closer, your hands wander up and down his bare arms, legs tangled up in his blankets along with him now, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh against his lips. “I’m glad you finally told me…that letter was so beautiful.” You whisper, lips gently ghosting against his now. Sal keeps his eyes closed but smiles brightly. “I wrote 153 of those letters.” He confesses, face burning bright red. “No you didn’t.” You scoff, looking down at him, finding this fact hilarious and also adorable and flattering.
“Oh yes he did!” Todd and Neil are leaning in the open doorway. Oops…you got so excited you didn’t shut the door behind you when you ran in. “Proof!” Neil laughs out loudly as he points to Sal’s trash can in the corner of the room, overflowing with balled up pieces of paper. You laugh as you look over, Neil and Todd laughing along with you. Sal drapes an arm over his face, trying to hold back his flustered smile and embarrassed expression. “Stoopppp.” He complains before you’re standing and playfully glaring at the two boys in the doorway. “That’s enough teasing. Shoo!” You grin at Todd before shutting the door on them and turning back to Sal.
“153, huh? Wow. That’s some dedication, lover boy.” You climb back into his bed, sitting cross legged beside him. “Why didn’t you just tell me in person, Sal? Would’ve been way easier.” You scoot closer to him and run your fingers through his tangled hair. “Uh, I totally disagree. I nearly had a panic attack just putting that letter in your mailbox and then having to walk away from it.” A laugh rings out from you as you toss your head back. “Ha! So, What? You’re afraid to say you love me but not afraid of ghosts or demons or cults?” You taunt him before leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a second. “You’re strange. And I love that about you.” You rest there with him for a moment before a fantastic idea hits you, making you sit up and gasp excitedly.
“Can I read the other ones too?!” Before Sal can answer, you’ve jumped up and ran to the rejected pile of love letters in the corner. “No! (Y/N)! No no nononononono!” Sal jumps up and runs to tackle you, his face blushing so red from his ears and down his neck. You laugh loudly as he wraps his arms around your waist and tries to pull you away from all the other embarrassing things he wrote and considered saying to you. “They’re…in the trash…for a reason!” He laughs and huffs as you you push forward, trying to reach even just one crumpled up piece of paper. “Pleeaaassseeeee?” You plead but your strength leaves you as Sal tickles you and has you cackling on the ground instantly.
And the next 10 minutes are spent wrestling with him on the floor of his bedroom while laughing like drunk idiots and occasionally pressing a kiss to the other’s lips. Eventually, you do get ahold of a few of the discarded love letter drafts and they are either like Shakespeare poetry type shit, or so fucking dorky and corny, full of puns and shit. Larry probably tried to help him with that one lol
#sally face x reader#sally face fanfic#sally face fanfiction#sal sally face#sally face sal#sally x reader#sal x reader#sal fisher#sally fisher#sally face#sal fisher x you#sal fisher x reader#sf sal#sally face fluff#sal fisher x y/n
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Request from an anon: can you please!! do an argument one pls where the reader ends up crying or Harry’s mad at her its probably like not their first argument but the biggest one tysm 🎀
A/N— hello Nonnie! I’m not sure if this is what you had in mind (if it’s way off please feel free to request again.) but they do argue and reader does cry. The argument is about reader going horcrux hunting even though that’s not directly stated. One singular use of ‘y/n’ (sorry.)
You can send a request here.
“Oh for fucksake, y/n! Why won’t you just listen this one time?!”
If you weren’t so angry, you’d flinch at the harshness in his tone. Harry had never cussed at you before. Harry didn’t even like raising his voice at you usually. As selfish as it is, you want to hold it against him. Even if you’d yelled at him too. Your hands are shaking as you continue stuffing your small-ish bag with things you’re not even paying attention to anymore. “I’m said, I’m going.” You can guess how he’s going to respond before he even gets the chance to speak, and that pisses you off most.
“You’re not! It’s too dangerous, and I have enough to worry about without having to look over my shoulder for you every other second!” He snaps at you hastily. You clutch your bag before tossing it back to the bed and glaring at him. You can’t help but feel like his enemy right now, although that was far from the truth. You know you love him. Usually, it would make you sick to argue with the person you care about more than anything but the determination and frustration festering in your stomach keeps you from backing down.
“You don’t get to tell me what’s ‘too dangerous!’ I’m just as capable as the rest of you!” You know it’s low of you, bringing his friends into it after he’d done the careful work of avoiding the subject for weeks. Harry scoffs, his next words coming out in exasperated and somewhat sarcastic laughter. “This isn’t about being capable! I know you’re capable! It’s just—I don’t want you to come!”
“Why not?!”
“Because I don’t want you hurt!”
Your breath hitches and suddenly you don’t feel so confident in your stance anymore. Your shoulders as a lump forms in your throat. Your glare softens into something of a sympathetic stare. Harry’s losing some of his attitude too.
“The idea of watching you in pain or worse is—it’s the worst thing I can imagine. I can’t lose anyone else.” In a split second all your resolve crumbles between your fingers. You feel tears slide down your face as you pull him into the tightest hug you’ve ever given. You can’t be sure what you can do to make it better, or even if you can. All you know is that he needs you.
#wolfstar!daughter!reader#wolfstar!daughter#harry james potter x reader#harry potter x reader#harry james potter x y/n#harry potter x fem!reader#harry james potter x you#harry potter x y/n#harry potter x you#harry james potter imagine#harry potter oneshot#harry potter imagine#hjp x y/n#hjp x you#hjp x reader#hjp
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Happy 28th!
Here are all the lovely fics I read this month:
where we landed | blueskiesrry | [70k]
The leaves were green the last time Harry stepped foot in Holmes Chapel, a stark contrast to the candy apple, butterscotch painting them now, years later. Harry first notices them on the train, gazing out the window with a downturned mouth. A warm something floods his stomach–memories, Harry imagines, of him as a boy, longing for the days when he’d live elsewhere and have to take this very train home for the holidays. He wonders how it’s possible to have once felt eager and euphoric at the sight of changing leaves yet now to feel nothing but tired. He sighs softly, turning away from the trees to look at his daughter, half-curled in his lap, asleep.
or: harry returns to his hometown with his sick daughter and more reminders than he bargained for of the boy he once loved when he left a handful of years ago
MARRIED FOR A WEEK?! | gravitycentered | [20k]
Hi guys :) You might recognize Harry from one or two of my old videos .. I was tagged in the Married for a week challenge so I asked him to be my husband ! We had to live together for a week and take each other out on a couple romantic dates and that, check out the video to see how it went :) Give it a like if you enjoyed and maybe subscribe if you haven't already. Love you all
- Louis x
It's everything else that matters | words_of_my_own | [83k]
At forty, Harry has settled down in London, as a single dad and successful businessman.
Along comes Louis, his son’s new friend, who turns out to be more than he appears at first sight.
Their paths are slowly intertwined as life stories are unfolded and feelings arise.
***
"They may only be joking around here…
…or the atmosphere has just turned slightly flirtatious. Louis' raised eyebrow and quirky smile adding on to it.
It’s fun and exciting, and Harry doesn’t think twice before he throws another glance over his shoulder, just to find Louis steady eyes on him, his teeth digging into his lower lip.
Christ, the bloke really is handsome.
Sexy, even. And this is definitely not how Harry normally reacts to people of the same sex, but…apparently, he is now."
He Was a Different League (When I Was Nothing Much) | AFangirlFantasy | [21k]
Sick of being alone, Marcel is forced (by Niall) to join an online dating app. The idea is well and all, except for the inconvenient fact that he hasn’t moved on from his childhood sweetheart - Louis. If only Marcel could learn to let go, he might actually be able to love again.
Or, an AU where finding that 'someone new' actually leads to finding that 'someone old,' and Marcel is painfully oblivious.
I want to wake up where your love is | marcythesassykitten | [166k]
“Kinda feels like it is, though. And it’s okay to be pissed at me because of that,” Louis' voice was still the normal feathery sweetness Harry was used to, but it had a harshness to it that he couldn’t place until he looked up and met Louis’ eyes. There was so much pain exposed for Harry to see, for him to be able to pick at, taunt or ignore.
Louis was sitting right there, allowing Harry to see all the broken pieces, the sharp edges that had never been mended back together with the love and kindness they needed. In that moment, Harry saw his own pain reflected back at him in Louis’ eyes. He could feel bits of his own heart calling out for him to reach out and allow the two battered hearts to heal together as one.
“It’s not. I’m not… I’m really not,”
or, a chicago-inspired story about lost dreams, unjust fates, undying love and lots of pizza, repressed feelings, cute kids and, of course, cats
Welcome Home | Jelon | [49k]
Louis Tomlinson had to put a stop to his football career for a couple of months and he decided to go back home to rest his mind for a little bit only to find out a really weird coffee shop owner started to visit his mother on a regular basis with just as peculiar but lovely kid named Maxine.
Half a World Away | SilverStuff50 | [10k]
Bothy: A bothy is a basic shelter, usually left unlocked and available for anyone to use free of charge. It was also a term for basic accommodation, usually for gardeners or other workers on an estate. Bothies are found in remote mountainous areas of Scotland, Northern England, Ulster and Wales. They are particularly common in the Scottish Highlands, but related buildings can be found around the world (for example, in the Nordic countries, there are wilderness huts).
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Long Live Abigail Hobbs!
In honor of our best girl I’m sharing my favorite Abigail Hobbs coded songs because she’s quite literally the ghost haunting me. No one deserved her.
Killer- Phoebe Bridgers
“Sometimes I think I’m a killer. I scared you in your house, I even scared myself talking about Dahmer on your couch.”
“I am sick of the chase, but I’m hungry for blood. And there’s nothing I can do.”
Family Tree- Ethel Cain
“I’m just a child but I’m not above violence.”
“Christ forgive these bones in hiding and oh and the bones I’m about to leave.”
Sun-Bleached Flies - Ethel Cain
“God loves you but not enough to save you.”
“But I always knew that in the end no one was coming to save me so I just prayed, and I keep praying and praying. If it’s meant to be then it will be.”
Strangers- Ethel Cain
“I tried to be good, am I no good? With my memory restricted to a Polaroid in evidence.”
“Found you just to tell you I made it real far. And I never blamed you for loving me the way that you did.”
“Am I turning in your stomach? Am I making you feel sick?”
Bite the Hand- Boygenius
“Who do you think you are? Who do you think I am? Maybe I’m afraid of you?”
“I can’t love you how you want me to.”
Vienna (in Memoriam) - the army, the navy
Enough said.
Smother - Daughter
“In the darkness I will meet my creators and they will all tell me I’m a suffocator.”
“Sometimes I wish I had stayed in my mother, never to come out.”
Im Right Here - Theodore Shapiro
The humming and melody feel like what Abigail’s life with Will might have been had they been in WolfTrap instead.
House Song- Searows
“Something is rotten inside me, I have to find it and cut it out.”
Hard Times- Ethel Cain
“Tell me a story about how it ends where you’re still the good guy I make pretend cause I hate this story where happiness ends and dies with you.”
“I thought good guys got to be happy? I’m not happy. I am poison in the water and unhappy. A little girl who needs her daddy real bad.”
“I’m tired of you still tied to me.”
OKAY THATS ALL FOR NOW. Abigail is one of my favorite characters ever and I think her complexity should be observed more. She was a survivor and perceived in the light of those around her and never as she truly was and I mourn her daily. I think about how she deserved to go to school abroad and never want for anything but in the end was a playing pawn in a game between two men who were themselves too terrified and confused to make sense of each other much less her as an independent.
IF YOU WANT MORE HERES MY PLAYLIST FOR HER
#hannibal#hannibalnbc#save abigail hobbs#Abigail Hobbs#will graham#hugh dancy#mads mikkelsen#hannibal lecter#will loves hannibal#hannibal and will#hannigram#hannibal and Abigail#garret jacob hobbs#playlist#character study#boygenius#Ethel Cain#nbc hannibal#Spotify
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thinking of them today...
#some of them would be graduating this year!!!!#sick to my stomach WHERED ALL THE TIME GO#umich hockey#jacob truscott#thomas bordeleau#brendan brisson#luke hughes#matty beniers#dylan duke#mackie samoskevich
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gonna write an autobiography called ‘i’m not a vegetarian i just think you’re a bad cook’
#people assume that about me all the time and i’m just trying not to be rude about it but like…#man maybe if the meat wasn’t either 90% chewy fat or woefully undercooked i’d eat it idk#i don’t know how other people’s stomach lining can handle anything less than at least medium. i usually go for medium well#i will be horribly sick if i get the nasty half raw stuff people try to give me#like some pink is fine but so much of the time it really does look lowkey raw and others are just fine with that?#they think i’m crazy for wanting ‘shoe leather’ like dude sorry i can’t eat it fresh off the cow the way you can#and for goodness’s sake why does having to chew a single bite for like a minute appeal to people#or having to pick stuff out of your mouth constantly. man i do my best to get stuff off while cutting it but like#sometimes you barely can sometimes you’d end up losing the whole thing#i like meat but legit there are so many cases where it isn’t worth the risk to me#like so much of it is nasty or suspect#i just usually opt for vegetarian options when i’m not confident in the quality of the meat bc it’s just much easier that way#i don’t care if i have high snob standards#america’s meat-heavy culture is something i much dislike#peach rambles
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Am I nauseous because I'm hungry or because I triggered myself last night
#my stomach hurts and i need to eat but the idea of doing that is. ack#and i cant tell my parents why because id have to unpack so much spontaneously#like id have to explain i was on the internet before they let me make an account and that i didnt tell them when i was getting those dms#and how its basically ruined any neutrality i had towards sex because ill be fine and then BAM!#everyone else is 12 year old me and im an adult and im my abuser and im going to hurt them if i keep talking about this#just because it was only words doesnt mean it fucked everything up forever. i know back then i was aroace but didnt have the words#but i sincerely think id be just sex neutral if it wasnt for that fucking asshole and now i think about sex for too long and get sick#and i didnt say anything because i thought they were my friend and i dont know if they were 11 like they said they were or not either way#its just. im getting so much off my chest here i wish i could go back in time and tell myself to block after that first message#and i didnt say anything after i realized because i wasnt allowed to have social media and i didnt want to get in trouble over that part#fantasizing alone is one thing but as soon as someone else is involved theyre me and im that person on da and i hate it. i hate it i hate it#i hate it i hate it#is that a common thing. where you feel like youre the abuser in certain contexts even if youre nothing like them#whatever. i have physical therapy and then ask a prof if i can use him as a reference and then finish my application if he gets back to me#and then i can rot all i want#sky vents like amogus
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#i’m……upset#there was an incident last year with a coworker who got way too creepy towards me#like for the first time in awhile (especially at work???) where I was like. uh I feel harassed genuinely#and I went to my bosses about it but bc he was only like that towards me/a really good teacher#they were like 🤷🏻♀️ well….try to avoid him ❤️ don’t talk to him ❤️#anyways the last two weeks of school he went MIA and stopped showing up#which for any other employee is an automatic fire so I was like RELIEVED bc then it meant he wouldn’t return for the new school year#I was told today he’s back????????? and was in training with a few other coworkers today#and now I feel sick to my stomach :’)#so excited to go back monday <3#I have never felt more ignored/not listened to as a woman before lmfao#and because he’s not creepy or persistent with any other woman coworker my bosses are like. maybe you’re just sensitive ❤️#can I fucking move already#also bc it’s a family owned private school we like. barely have an HR#like at all 🧍🏻♀️#so….sigh
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the renovation starts tmrrw (LOL) and i woke up from a dream abt it crying. awesome
#today is our last day having a deck and i genuinely feel sick to my stomach over it. ik it’s just a piece of wood and it’s falling apart but#omg like… o ur house is about to not be our house anymore. like the deck is where me and my siblings played w our best friends it’s where i#paced back and forth to get fresh air so many times ater losing my shit during lockdown and it’s literally about to be gone…. forever? ok!!!#and then the kitchen is going to go and im going to lose it genuinely. like this house is shitty and rotting and falling apart and its great#that we are getting a renovation finally but jesus christ i have lived here all my life and yeah i hate the kitchen but it’s home and you’re#just gonna tear it down and make jt 3x bigger like it’s nothing??? ok 😂😂😂😂😂😂#purrs#literally im getting war flashbacks to losing the van which was never gonna drive again but it was my SPACE for all of lockdown and#it got fucking junked after being my sanctuary (as unpleasant as it was) for like 2 years not to mention OUR CAR that we did everything in a#and now we have my grandparents car and there isn’t a backseat so i don’t get room to breathe when they drive. and also my grandparents#house has officially been demolished to make way for a fucking mansion and the near total renovation of my high school is almost done which#means the classroom where i became a human being is gone and the office is going to get destroyed too when that renovation happens and we’ll#have to go make a home somewhere else. i know this kind of thing happens but it makes me want to start screaming. like yeah these#renovations will make life better for everyone (except the fucking mansion it’s bc my grandparents died and the developers are selfish and#cruel lol!!!!!) but the way so many of the spaces that have been important to me keep ending up getting destroyed after im done w them. it’s#comforting in a way bc it’s like oh no one else gets to have it be important but also no that ISNT comforting i want those spaces to keep#being sacred i want them to mean something to other people and i want to be able to go back and soak in the memories again. and everyone is#mad at me for freaking out the renovation but it’s like ok you come into our living space you destroy core parts of my childhood and also#create a situation where we literally can’t like eat or cook anything in the house for months like idk what we’re gonna do bc we don’t go#anywhere bc of covid except work for me and school for my brother so. idk. this whole thing SUCKS. i can’t believe it’s starting tomorrow#and i can’t believe the deck is about to be gone. pain and suffering and pain and suffering and pain and suffering.
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#who i was march 24 2022 and who i am now are completely different people. i remember crying in caffe reggio to zay sun and adiba because#my dad was in the hospital and we didnt know why and we werent even there to support him and my mom because we had travelled to nyc that#morning. and the whole trip was overshadowed by this sense of grief and fear and horror at what was unfolding back at home while i was#trying to pretend everything was okay and that i was fine. i never cry in public but i cried on the q train while visiting my coworker who#lives in manhattan and then i sobbed in a xi’an famous foods location in manhattan w my brothers because the cheapest and earliest train#home was that night and i had no idea what to do w myself#and when we got home finally we all knew what the diagnosis was but nobody wanted to say it not even the doctors. i dont think anyone used#the actual word cancer to us for months. they cloaked it in such technical terms so as to make it easier to swallow but it was still like.#an elephant in the room yk? nobody told us the stage either but it was a stage iv glioblastoma and i remember going on r/glioblastoma and#just crying reading all the posts abt how difficult this disease is. most projections were six months to a year and a half. a lot of people#even chose not to get treatment because of the high probability that it would make no difference to the prognosis. i have no idea whether we#made the right choice going w chemo or not honestly. only time will tell i guess. inshaAllah this will prove to have been the right choice#idk what im even trying to say now. i just dont reflect a lot on where i was when this started because it’s… almost too painful. i have#given up so much for my dad at this point and i still feel like it’s not enough but also i’ve been trapped by this sickness and i’ve given#up my life to it and idk how to rebuild myself from here. i need to move on w my life but what if these are the last moments w him and i#take those for granted by not staying home to take care of him and spend time w him. again idk what im trying to say here i just have no#idea how we got to this place. it still feels like some insane fever dream that i will suddenly awaken from#seeing pictures of my dad even from 2021 is the hardest thing. i have no idea what happened to that bright funny charismatic loving man. he#is literally a shell of himself at this point and i hate it. it actually turns my stomach sometimes because it all is so wrong#none of this was supposed to happen he was supposed to retire peacefully somewhere tropical in a couple years not get diagnosed w cancer#journal#illness tw
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(vent cw sorry i ran out of room in the tags to say that. it’s illness-related anger as usual. content warning for medical everything)
im so fucking sick though. just in general
#and i am so tired of people acting like they know my experiences better than i do#stayed home from school today falling behind in everything couldn’t fcuking get out of bed and my dad said that yesterday my energy was up#so i’m obviously faking it today. like yeah yesterday i laid in bed for hours then came to your house and sat in a chair. saw me for 30min#you don’t get to tell me that yesterday i was feeling well because i fucking wasn’t and you have never noticed or cared#when i fucking passed out got a black eye from hitting my head on the way down. he didn’t fucking bat an eye#now i’m stuck awake because i have stomach pain and my heart has been pounding so loud for hours#and i’m trying to sleep and i need to make it to school tomorrow but i can’t#and i’ve been trying and i’ve been lying awake. and at this point i don’t know how to deal with this anymore#i get sick three times a month you’re supposed to be sick three times a year. this isn’t even counting days where i can’t stand#when i say i’m sick i mean i have sore throat congestion and sometimes fever. and it’s almost always a direct result of trying to live life#like i went to the mall thursday prom shopping. walked a few hours. woke up next morning sore throat runny nose couldnt focus on school from#all the pain in so many places and all of my regular symptoms just being escalated so badly. cant think can’t see cant stand#and that is messed up!!!! that is messed up!!!! and my mother tells me she finally agrees i need anxiety medicine#like hey thanks!! that’s helpful!! however!! why do you only endorse mental when it’s the only alternative to physical#why has my mom always denied viewing my anxiety as anything i shouldn’t just push aside. until it becomes a way to tell me that my physical#problems should also just be pushed aside. why is it so hard to get an audience with a doctor#ANYWAYS i have my stupid follow up appointment. this friday. i dont know how it’s gonna go down#i’m just going to tell the doctor how much it fucking sucks. i guess i’m going to ask for a referral to a neurology specialist in the cities#which will drive my family insane they don’t want to enter the cities to help me. but our clinic doesn’t have what i need#i might get the doctor to do a stress test on friday though if they can do that. but i want specific autonomic testing#and like yeah. i get that anxiety is in the autonomic system. part of fight flight freeze and what EVER i’m not trying to say it’s not!!!!#but does it occur to anyone that my heightened anxiety is one of several symptoms. rather than somehow being the cause#heart rate in panic attack sitting down is 120bpm. heart rate in normal brain walking down the hallway is 140bpm. it’s not my fucking brain#anyway i just need a doctor to actually fucking look at me. actually do the tests actually monitor. because it’s there if you look#but nobody cares enough to look and i just have to sit here falling behind in all my classes and not able to do my job that i love#and just wait for it to somehow get better when i’ve been like this as long as i can remember and maybe it’s worse now but it’s always been#there and everybody writes it off as me being lazy or not putting in enough work and maybe i would have been in sports as a kid if i could!!#people act like my fitness now is because of choices i made as a child but i have ALWAYS had worse reaction to exercise than my friends#and anyway i just. idk. sore throat and stuff is gone now but overall discomfort and disability is not. but i’m going to school cause i cant#keep missing it for health reasons just have to watch my heart go insane and do nothing. out of tags i’m sorry. i’m just so tired.
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#I woke up with a pit of anxiety in my belly and I was so confused about what had me feeling this way#just like dreading getting up out of bed and going into work#like I didn’t know what I had so much anxiety over#and then I remembered my boss offered for me to go work at a different location in a different city for a week and I didn’t actually give#him an answer yet#I’m a huge homebody like if I have the choice of being at home or anywhere else I am most likely going to choose being home#plus I would be going to a city where I know no one and staying in a hotel alone for a week and driving to this place by myself and I’m just#so unsure about all of that. I think I should do it because it’ll probably be fine but at the same time I’m just incredibly like anxious and#because* of the thought of having to stay alone in a hotel room for a week#staying home alone for a week is bad enough#and when I asked my mom for her advice she didn’t really help me much but I think that’s because I wanted her to give me a yes or a no#and then my best friend was literally exactly 0 percent helpful because I vented all this too her and her response was ‘oof’ like??? you#don’t have anything maybe a little more helpful to at to me?#anyway my boss works today so I might have to give him an answer today#but I’ve been feeling sick to my stomach since he gave me this offer which lol is exactly how I felt when he offered me a promotion like 9#months ago and I worried about it for a week before agreeing to fill the position for a month (which gave me anxiety every day literally the#day he told me he had someone else to fill the position if I was sure I didn’t want to stay in it I felt a wave of relief literally so much#tension left my body immediately upon hearing those words)#anyway though that’s why I was so inactive yesterday bc I was sitting in my house in like an anxious stupor just watching Netflix and trying#to avoid thinking about this because it made my heart pound uncomfortably but also it was all I could think of#but also I was kinda in a weird mood before that yesterday#ALSO the week he told me he wants to go do that I’m like?? bc recently he also told me he needs me to fill in for a week for the girl who#filled the position I stepped back down from and I’m like? so you’re gonna have me go work in a different store then come back the next week#and do a different job that I don’t want to do in our store? all the while I really want to just take a few days off but I haven’t been able#to because there’s no one who can cover for me to take off and I don’t want to leave us shortstaffed and now it’s summer and we finally have#more people he keeps telling me he needs me to do/wants me to do things that make it impossible to take a few days off#but also my family is planning to go on a trip probably in the fall we don’t know where to yet and we have zero plans made but I probably do#need to save up my PTO hours for that instead of just a few random days off but ugh#also more and more lately I’m like I should really just find a new job. but this one gives me good hours like 40 a week and the hours I want#sorry for this rambling rant
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i want to ***
#.#whatever#vent post#i’m so.#..#tired#like#why do i even bother#who do i even talk to#i feel so sick all the time#literally. sick. anxious enough that i feel sick to my stomach#and after my concussion my memory has been going out…i’m scared#and you know what sucks???#i’ve actually progressed to the point where i can’t make certain bad decisions anymore#they don’t make me feel better#so wtf am i supposed to do now lol#cant *** or have brainless sex#bc both of those things make me want to kms#lol#and i like. can’t drink. like i can’t#cant do that to myself#cant. won’t.#shouldn’t#so what do i do#sit around#every night#just#be alone?
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