#Ive been so neck deep in pressure at this point that i have a months worth of shit to upload that i just simply forgot to upload here

[saltystingray]

Some Seb sketches that i never uploaded here

Do not edit or repost

[latetaektalk]

love of my life | myg

“yoongi was always there for you, was always by your side, was always your rock to lean onto. he was the love of your life, but at one point, you had to come to accept reality and realise that some things come to an end.”

genre: established-relationship!au, heavy angst, fluff that hurts, grieving, pain, a lot of crying

pairing: yoongi x reader

word count: 6.989

warnings: mentions of character death, character death, reader isnt doing well in this, funeral, mention of sick characters, swearing, i dont know what else to tag this so please tell me if there is anything missing!!

playlist: dancing with your ghost - sasha sloan, now that you’re gone - lewis ross, hindenburg lover - anson seabra, just asking - aquilo

a/n: uh, this is a different from what i usually write and ive been trying to figure out how to execute this for months. i dont know how else to write this and im really not sure about the way i executed it, but i dont think i can improve this really? ive been sitting on this for months so i really just need to get it out at this point lol also yoongi and reader call each other toulouse and berlioz from the film aristocats!

The words danced in front of your eyes, bled together and even when you shook your head, you couldn’t decipher them. It was like they were taunting you, playing hide and seek with you and after another second, you gave up trying to read them altogether.

You let the notebook fall shut and land on the counter of the sink. With your hands, you held onto the edge of it. You looked at yourself in the mirror.

A pair of unfamiliar eyes stared back at you and you were about to turn your head to them and give them a smile, a smile that was meant to tell them that it was okay and to not cry anymore, but then you realised you were looking at yourself.

The fluorescent lights of this big bathroom brought out the harsh edges and lines of your face and made you look like a shell of a person. Your eyes were dark, empty and your skin looked grey, ashy almost.

You looked lifeless.

Your throat tightened painfully into a knot and you quickly averted your gaze, settling to stare into the sink instead. A shaky breath slipped past your lips and you could feel a shudder run down your spine. Your knuckles turned white, so white that they almost tore through your skin as you gripped tighter around the edge of the counter.

“Toulouse.”

You would have recognised his voice even if you had been deaf, would have recognised his voice even if the sky came crashing down on you and the world was screaming at you.

Your eyes locked with Yoongi’s in the mirror and almost immediately the corners of your lips started to turn up. There was just something so comforting about simply looking at him, something so calming.

“Berlioz,” you breathed out, blinking at him.

Yoongi was leaned against the wall next to the door of the bathroom and your gaze travelled down his form, admiring the perfectly tailored black suit he was donning. There was something so effortless about him, something so calming, something so familiar. His usual watch was strapped around his wrist and you wanted to tell him just how good he looked, but the words wouldn’t form on your tongue.

Yoongi didn’t seem to care even a little bit that he was standing in a women’s bathroom and that he would definitely get into trouble if he were to be caught. Instead of being warry, he looked as relaxed as ever.

“You okay?”

If you were completely honest, you didn’t remember or notice Yoongi walking in, but you were to blame for it. Your mind was just clouded, so clouded that you barely registered your surroundings anymore.

“Yeah, no, I’m okay,” you mumbled and watched Yoongi tilt his head at you and eye you through narrow slits.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asked and folded his arms in front of his chest like he was questioning you, a deep knit forming between his brows.

“Yeah, of course,” you said a little too fast. It sounded rehearsed and Yoongi noticed, eyes softening at the sight of the tight smile etched onto your lips. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

There was a moment of silence, a moment where Yoongi and you just stared into each other’s eyes and deep down you knew exactly what he was telling you, but you refused to acknowledge it, refused to admit the truth.

“Okay,” Yoongi breathed, nodding before pushing off the wall and walking over to you. When he stopped next to you, you watched him flip open the notebook, finger tracing the first page like he had never seen it before.

“To: Min Yoongi aka Berlioz,” Yoongi whispered, reading out the first line of the page before moving on to the next line. “From: Y/L/N Y/N aka Toulouse,” he read the last line, “Happy Birthday!”

You stared at the letters in front of you, stared at the words you had written down in the notebook many moons ago before you gave Yoongi this notebook as a birthday present and slowly the smile melted off your face.

“Not really accurate anymore, is it?” Yoongi chuckled before flipping open the next page to be only met with your handwriting again.

“You said I could have it,” you mumbled and Yoongi’s smirk grew at your words before he closed the notebook and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. You wanted to protest for a second, tell him you were going to wrinkle his beautiful black suit, but the words died in your throat.

It was just too nice, too comforting to say something and you needed this, needed this hug. And Yoongi knew it before you did.

You essentially melted in Yoongi’s arms and wrapped your own around him, holding him close to you because you never wanted this hug to end, never wanted to pull away from Yoongi, never wanted to let him go.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Yoongi whispered into your ear and you could feel his breath ghost through your hair. Your arms tightened around him at his words and your eyes fell shut as you rested your head against his chest.

“You’re gonna get through this all,” Yoongi continued and his lips skimmed the crown of your head lightly, “I know you can do this, Toulouse.”

“It just hurts, Berlioz,” you whispered quietly, voice breaking when you finally admitted the truth, when you finally admitted to yourself and to him that you weren’t okay. “It hurts so incredibly much.”

At this point, you just wanted to forget, forget the last couple of days, forget everything that had happened. Deep down, however, you knew that it was the wrong thing to do, that you actually needed to move on, but right now that felt impossible.

Right now you felt like your world was burning up, falling apart, crumbling in front of your feet. You wanted to do something, stop it all, but you were beaten and lying on the dirty floor.

Yoongi hummed and placed his chin on top of your head, rocking you back and forth.

“But you know what to do when it hurts, right?” Yoongi asked, his voice resembling a quiet whisper more than anything else. It was so quiet, so quiet like it was barely there.

Your lips formed a harsh thin line before you swallowed and buried your face deeper into Yoongi’s neck because, of course, you knew, but you didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think about it for even a second.

“I know,” you said softly, recalling the words Yoongi had said when you had first admitted to him that you were starting to fall apart, that you were starting to crumble underneath all of the pressure, that you were starting to lose yourself in all of the pain.

“You can do it,” Yoongi said and his arms tightened around you like he wanted to give you some strength. “I know right now it seems almost impossible, but trust me, you can do this.”

Tears started building up behind your eyes and you had to bite down on your tongue to stop them from spilling, but you knew it wasn’t going to work out for long.

The pain was just too much, eating you alive, gutting you inside out, leaving you empty and in pain. You didn’t feel human anymore, barely felt anything anymore except for the numbing pain and you knew that a part of you had died, had died the last few days.

“You’re so incredibly strong and amazing and great,” Yoongi mumbled into your ear, words cutting so deep into you that you teared up again and you felt brought down to your knees. “And there’s nothing you can’t do and this is no different.”

“Every day is a new start, an opportunity to get back up on your feet and fight through it all,” Yoongi continued, words slipping off his tongue with ease like he had prepared these words before. “And I know it’s hard and that nothing seems fair right now, but — and it sucks to admit it — that is just life.

“But don’t let life beat you up, don’t let life tear you down, don’t let life reduce you to nothing, don’t let life stop you and hold you back.”

The tears spilled down your cheeks, running down the same path other tears had run down before. You could taste the salt on the tip of your tongue, could taste the pain and hurt on the tip of your tongue and you wanted to throw up.

“Because you’re incredible, Toulouse.”

The walls you had built up, the facade of being okay fell apart right in front of you. It all crumbled into dust, but Yoongi didn’t judge you for it. Instead, he let you cry out your eyes and kept providing you with the strength you were missing.

Yoongi and you hugged each other for seemingly forever and it was only because Yoongi’s phone went off that you two pulled apart. It stopped after just a second—almost like it wasn’t there at all.

When Yoongi checked his phone, you knew, knew he had to step out and call back. He always had to, without fail.

“Always so busy,” you mumbled with a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

You weren’t mad, by now you were used to it, used to work constantly calling him, used to him needing to call back even if it was two in the morning.

“When you’re as smart as me, people are just always demanding for your attention,” Yoongi laughed with a smile and you rolled your eyes at his words.

“Yeah, you’re so smart,” you snorted and Yoongi grinned at you.

“A genius you might even say,” Yoongi continued before winking at you. You almost bursted out into laughter and it felt so good to talk about something else for once. Only Yoogi could ever make you feel this way, make you feel this way when you were on the brink of falling apart, make you feel this way in mere seconds, make you feel genuinely happy.

“Self-proclaimed genius.”

Now, it was Yoongi’s turn to roll his eyes at you, but both of you had grins pulling on the corners of your lips.

“Please, I’m a genius and you know it.”

“God, you’re so arrogant,” you sighed and Yoongi laughed at your words before sighing and letting silence settle between him and you.

Yoongi and you looked at each other and even though neither of you were speaking, both of you said so much to each other in the silence. You knew what he was thinking and he knew what you were thinking.

“I’m so-”

“It’s fine, Berlioz,” you cut in before Yoongi could apologise and placed your hand on his chest, giving it a light pat. “Do your thing. Call back.”

Yoongi looked at you for a moment before he let his lips split into a smile.

“Thank you,” Yoongi said softly, hand wrapping around your wrist before he brought your hand up to his lips and pressed the softest and lightest kiss on your knuckles. “You’re the best.”

And for the first time, you genuinely smiled and it was all because of Yoongi, all because he was smiling at you too.

“Toulouse.”

“Berlioz.”

Yoongi gave your hand one last squeeze before he turned on his heel and walked out to call back work. You turned to your notebook again, fingers tracing the edge of the hardcover.

When you heard the door behind you click open, you whipped your head around. You were about to ask Yoongi if he forgot something, but then your eyes locked with Miyeon’s. Almost immediately you looked away and turned to the sink like you were busy with it.

You could hear Miyeon step inside the bathroom and you begged for her to just go into one of the many stalls, begged for her to walk past you without talking to you, but you should have known now that things never worked out the way you wanted them to.

“Y/N,” Miyeon started and you hated the way she said your name, hated the fact that she was talking to you at all. You were praying that Yoongi was going to come back in, was going to come in again even though this was the women's restroom and just rescue you, save you from Miyeon, but, of course, that was wishful thinking.

You screwed your eyes shut for a second, letting your head hang as you drew in a much-needed breath. Slowly you peeled your eyes open and met Miyeon’s gaze in the mirror.

Her face was contorted into what could only be described as pity and you wanted nothing more than to turn on your heel and storm out, but you couldn’t, couldn’t because you were too tired and exhausted to.

“I’m sorry,” Miyeon said and your eyes began to travel down her form in an attempt to distract yourself a little. Like you, she was wearing a simple black dress that ended just above her knees. The sleeves were a little long on her and you knew she had bought it in a hurry, just like you had with your dress.

Her words echoed on the walls of the big bathroom and you could feel them haunt you as they bounced around and filled the air.

“I’m so incredibly sorry,” Miyeon kept going and tore her gaze away from you. Her fingers started to fiddle with each other in front of her stomach and she shuffled on her feet as your silence continued on.

You knew you should interrupt her and tell her that it was fine, that you appreciated her words and whatnot, but you didn’t, didn’t appreciate them and at this point, you didn’t give a fuck about formalities.

“I can’t imagine- can’t imagine how hard this must be for you right now,” Miyeon mumbled and her words were obviously chosen very carefully. “Your dad-”

Before Miyeon could finish her sentence, the door to the bathroom flew open again and both of you whipped your head around to see who it was. For a whole second, you thought it was Yoongi, but then you were disappointed a second time today.

The woman who had just entered looked flustered, almost embarrassed when her eyes landed on Miyeon and you, clearly realising that she had interrupted something.

Miyeon stared at her with big eyes and at that moment, you grabbed your notebook and pressed it close to your body. When Miyeon looked at you to say something, you shook your head and spoke your first words and only words to her today.

“I’ll see you outside,” you mumbled and your voice was barely above a whisper. If it had been just a little louder in this bathroom or if your words hadn’t echoed on the walls, Miyeon wouldn’t have heard you.

You hoped you wouldn’t, wouldn’t have to see her again.

You pushed past Miyeon and the woman caught up rather quickly that you just wanted to get out, jumping out of your way like she was scared you would yell at her if she didn’t move fast enough. The door felt heavy as you heaved it open and it took you seemingly everything to get it to simply budge.

“Y/N,�� Miyeon started again, but instead of turning your head around or responding, you let the door behind you fall shut and tell Miyeon exactly what you were thinking.

You stepped into the big empty lobby and your eyes scanned every corner, swallowing heavily as chills ran down your spine. There was just something so uncomfortable, alarming, heavy about this room, about the number of flowers that decorated it and centred around those two big doors.

Frantically you searched for Yoongi and seemingly out of thin air, your eyes locked with Yoongi’s across the room. Unlike the time when your eyes had met with Miyeon’s, you felt relief wash through you and your heart quicken in your chest in the best way possible.

The corners of your lips turned up slightly and you started moving towards Yoongi. Your grip around your notebook tightened as you walked towards him.

Yoongi waited for you, standing in front of those grossly decorated doors . Only a few metres separated you from him when the two big doors got pushed open and you came to a screeching halt.

“Y/N!” your mother called out when she saw you and Yoongi stepped away when she started making her way to you. Without sparing Yoongi much of a glance, your mother walked towards you.

You knew she hadn’t done it on purpose and that the last couple days had obviously been rough on her as well if the circles underneath her eyes were anything to go by, but it still bothered you and certain words danced on the tip of your tongue.

When you were about to notify your mother of Yoongi’s presence, he shook his head at you and gave you a look you knew just how to interpret.

“I was looking for you, darling,” your mother whispered when she reached you and combed through your hair, fingers tucking your curls back into place. “Where were you?”

You were too busy communicating silently with Yoongi to answer your mother and when she couldn’t take your silence any longer, she turned her head around and sighed before looking back at you.

“Honey,” your mother started again and Yoongi nodded towards your mother, telling you to focus on her instead of him. Your eyes flickered to her and she was already staring up at you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Yoongi shove his hands into his pockets and you knew he was going to wait, wait silently until your mother and you had finished up talking.

“Where have you been?”

“I- I was just in the bathroom,” you shrugged and your mother frowned a little. It was then that you noticed just how much deeper her lines had gotten and you knew your father’s diagnosis was to blame.

“Okay, but please tell someone the next time before you just walk away. You scared me,” your mother mumbled and you simply nodded. The words of your mother barely registered in your mind and she knew they didn’t, but she didn’t say anything,

Your mother looked down at your hands and pried the notebook out of your grasp before you could protest. You were on the edge of snapping at her, telling her not to take it from you when she continued.

“Why is it wet?” your mother said, looking at her hand before using the sleeve of her black dress to swipe across your notebook. You quickly took it out of her hand and dried it yourself on your own black dress.

“I put it next to the sink,” you said and held onto it tighter this time, not wanting your mother to take it out of your hand one more time.

“Oh, okay,” your mother breathed and there was this uncomfortable silence hanging between you two. You watched as your mother’s eyes wandered all over your face, but they never locked with your eyes. It was like she didn’t know how to interact with you anymore and you didn’t blame her.

Your mother timidly took a hold of your hand like she was scared you would swat her hand away, lacing her fingers with yours before she tugged on it.

“Come,” your mother started and her voice was barely above a whisper. “We have to get back inside.”

Your gaze landed on Yoongi and when he nodded, you budged and followed your mother. Yoongi smiled at you, assuring you with that simple smile it was going to be fine.

Your mother led you to the two big doors and Yoongi silently followed you two. Again, your mother just walked past him and unlike you, he didn’t mind. He just fell into step with you and stayed by your side as your mother opened the door.

So far you hadn’t walked inside yet and when you saw the room that was hidden by those two big doors, your heart sank into your stomach. A second later, it started to beat out of your chest and you stopped dead in your tracks after barely crossing the doorway. The doors behind you pushed you forward a little when they closed behind you, but you didn’t care, eyes roaming the big room.

There were so many people, so many people you recognised and also didn’t recognise and they were all staring at you, focusing on you. Even though everybody was wearing black clothes like you, you felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb.

A painful knot lodged itself into your throat and you could feel your breath labouring. Your eyes shot from one side of the other room to the other and you struggled to find a focus point.

Your world started to crumble in front of you again, started to go up in flames and you were certain that the pain would rip you apart, crush your heart into dust.

Your mother looked at you through tears and you wanted to yank your hand out of her grasp and bolt and never look back, but you felt too weak to even do that. When you shuffled back, your shoes hit the door and your heart quickened immediately.

Anxiety bubbled up in your stomach and you felt like you couldn’t breathe, felt like there was somebody suffocating you, felt like you were going to faint any second, but before everything could spiral into something much worse, Yoongi intervened.

“Toulouse,” he whispered into your ear, his hand landing on the small of your back. “Breathe.”

You did as he said, took a deep breath and after a few seconds, you started to feel okay, started to feel somewhat fine again. Your mother’s hand tightened around yours during it all and you squeezed back when you felt like you were capable to.

Yoongi smiled next to you before giving you a light push, prompting you to start walking away. Your mother immediately led you to the front, past all of the people.

You knew about half of them and half of that half you would even call your own friends, but right now you were so focused on breathing and surviving this that you walked past them without sparing them a single glance, just like your mother hadn’t spared Yoongi a single one.

It didn’t take you long to realise that your mother was aiming for the front and it was then that you saw the gap in the first bench, obviously reserved for you.

“Come,” your mother whispered before sitting down, hand tightening around yours like she was afraid you were going to bolt.

You sat down on the wooden bench and Yoongi filled up the space next to you, finishing up the bench of people. When you sat down, you didn’t let go off your mother’s hand and instead held it tighter, feeling like you were getting lost again.

Your notebook landed in your lap and finally, you let your fingers slip into Yoongi’s. He wrapped his hand around yours, but his fingers felt cold around yours. Usually, you would have pulled away, but this time you didn’t care.

If you had looked down the line, looked down the bench, you would have recognised each and every face, would have realised that they all had come to pay their respects.

You knew you shouldn’t, but it was hard to resist the temptation. It wasn’t like you had given it. Instead, you had just slipped into it and done it, just turned your head around to study the room.

The room was split in the middle by an aisle and on each side, there were rows of benches, almost all of them were filled with people, people dressed in black on this bittersweet day. The sun poured in from the windows, but instead of giving everybody a warm glow, it casted dark shadows and painful contrasts.

Your eyes wandered to the front and it was then that you first saw it, actually saw it. You had heard people talk about it, debate which one was the right one, but you had always been too exhausted, too exhausted to chime in.

Upon seeing it, you knew it was the wrong one.

The casket was black, a rich black with sharp corners and there was just something so scary about it, something so uncomfortable and wrong. It didn’t do him justice, didn’t represent who he really was to the core.

You tore your gaze away, not wanting to spare the abomination that was the choice of this casket any longer any attention and instead your eyes landed on the picture next to it. When you saw it, your heart cracked into dust and the air was knocked out of your lungs.

You almost doubled over at its sight, unable to look at it longer than for a second.

You couldn’t get it out of your head even though you had ripped your gaze away. Tears blurred your vision, but the picture was very much imprinted in your mind. After all, you had taken it when you had attempted to get into photography a long time ago.

He was smiling and looking to the side. The sun had just begun to set and given him this angelic glow. His eyes had reflected perfectly in the light, but your photo barely captured the light and love and hope that had always sparkled in his eyes.

You didn’t remember what you had done on that day anymore, but you remembered how you had felt, how he had made you feel on that day and every other day you had the pleasure of spending time with him.

Bliss and Love.

Without fail, he had always made you feel the happiest and most loved person alive and words couldn’t even begin to capture how thankful you were.

And so it hurt so much more to see his picture up there. It hurt so much more to know that he was in this casket that was supposed to hold what was once him for the rest of eternity. It hurt so much more to realise that he wasn’t going to be with you anymore.

It hurt so much more to come to the conclusion that it was in vain to hold onto the pieces of him.

You had to let go.

“Honey,” your mother whispered into your ear, shaking you a little to rip you out of your thoughts. You snapped your head around and stared at her with big eyes. “It’s your turn.”

When your mother nodded to the front, you realised that you had missed it, missed all of the other people speaking, missed half of the service already.

You let go of your mother’s and Yoongi’s hand and swiped across your cheeks, catching the tears that had almost spilled. You held onto your notebook that was burning through your dress and into your legs, leaving scars on your skin and it hurt so much, but you couldn’t let go of it, couldn’t even if you wanted to.

Your mother gave you a nod when you turned to her and when you looked at Yoongi, he smiled at you and mouthed a single word.

Toulouse.

You wanted to return it, say your part, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it quite yet.

With shaky legs and buckling knees, you stood up and made your way to the front with your notebook clutched close to your chest like it was a shield.

When you reached the front and put down your notebook on the podium and looked into the audience for the first time, you thought you were going to collapse. Your heart had stopped beating all together after it had pounded so quickly and with such force that it couldn’t catch up with itself anymore.

Your eyes scanned the audience and you swallowed heavily. Maybe it was because you hadn’t slept properly in days or maybe it was because tears were brimming your eyes again, but all of the faces started to blur together.

The second your gaze met Yoongi’s, however, you were brought back to reality. You noticed the eerie silence and you knew everybody was waiting for you to say something.

Somehow you managed to flip your notebook open, fingers tracing the edge of the first page as you read the words you had written down before giving this notebook to Yoongi as a gift.

It was stupid because you knew the words by heart, but you needed to read them just once more before starting, needed to read them to yourself like a mantra before you would start speaking.

When your eyes flickered to Yoongi for a second, he knew. He knew what you were looking at and he gave you a smile. Only you two could recognise the importance of those lines.

To: Min Yoongi aka Berlioz. From: Y/L/N Y/N aka Toulouse. Happy Birthday!

With a shaky breath, you turned to the page you had bookmarked a few hours ago when you had written all of this down in the middle of the night after forcing yourself to.

Unlike the last time when you had looked at the words, they weren’t dancing in front of your eyes anymore, weren’t bleeding together anymore, weren’t playing hide and seek with you anymore. You could read them, decipher them now.

With another heavy and shaky breath, you opened your mouth and looked up from your notebook.

“I’m going to be honest I don’t know how to do this, how to eulogise.”

Yoongi and you locked eyes.

“Usually, I would have asked him how to because he was the smart one out of us two. God, he was so smart. Truly the smartest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

Tears threatened to build up in your eyes and a lump started to grow in your throat, but you swallowed it all down.

“Around him I always felt a little dumb, but I think everybody did.”

A quiet laugh travelled through the rows and people nodded, but you kept your gaze on Yoongi, not wanting to look away for even a second.

“He was always, without fail, the smartest person in the room. Somehow, he always knew everything about anything, always knew what to say. He always knew best, knew better than anybody else.”

It was then that you realised that you didn’t need to read the words. You already knew them because they came from your heart.

You kept staring at Yoongi through tears, but even then you could see him clearly. You noticed the angelic glow around him, noticed how the sun complimented his beauty and his beauty only.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that Yoongi was still the most beautiful person amongst this crowd of people, wasn’t fair that he was the only one with an angelic glow around him, wasn’t fair that only his beauty was highlighted by the sun.

It wasn’t fair how ethereal and surreal Yoongi was.

“He was truly a genius.”

Yoongi smiled at your words, but at the same time, you could see the tears build up in his eyes.

“I always liked to say that he was only a self-proclaimed genius, but I think everybody knows that he was definitely not. So please, don’t tell him I called him a genius. He’d totally get a kick out of it.”

Another quiet laugh.

“And because I don’t know how to do this, don’t know how to properly eulogise and I cannot ask him, I’m going to ask for everybody's forgiveness because this will not be good. We all know he would do a much better job at this than I am- I ever could. We all know he would find the right words because he always did, always knew what to say.

“I promise everybody here that this will be awful, the worst eulogy- attempt of a eulogy, attempt of doing him justice anyone of you will ever hear because admittedly I am not quite ready.”

Your voice cracked as you struggled to form the next words, as you struggled to bring yourself to say them. And it took you an eternity to force yourself to continue.

“Not quite ready to say goodbye.”

Yoongi swallowed and the tears started to almost spill, run down his cheeks.

You knew that Yoongi was probably only crying because it pained him to see you on the verge of tears, pained him to see you say goodbye to him, pained him to see you have such a hard time letting go of the last pieces of him, pained him to see you come to the realisation that he wasn’t real, that he was all in your imagination, that he wasn’t here anymore, that he had left earth almost a week ago. Nevertheless, you liked to think that your words brought him to tears, liked to think that you could touch him with your words in a way he usually only managed to touch you.

“But I am going to try, try to say goodbye, say goodbye to him because I know that was what he’d want me to do. I know he wouldn’t want me to hurt, hold onto the pieces of him. I know he would want me to move on.

“So, I will try, will say goodbye to him with this.”

Yoongi started to choke up and so did you, but you fought through it, hands gripping the edge of the podium as you desperately tried to keep it together.

Your eyes continued to bore into Yoongi’s as you fought the hardest fight in your life.

“25 years or 300 months or 9125 days or 219000 hours or 788400000 seconds or simply put, all my life. I’ve known you all my life, spent practically every second of my life with you and, God, I loved every second of it. If I could, I’d wish for more, more time for you, for us. I’d wish for a lifetime for you, with you, a lifetime together so I can love you longer.

“I want to spend every second of the rest of my life listening to you play the piano until you’ve perfected the sonata you’ve been working on for ages, spend every second watching you attempt to make breakfast for us without burning down our kitchen in the morning, spend every second laughing with you until our stomachs hurt and tears brim our eyes and our laughter dies in the silence of the night as we grow tired, spend every second sighing as you go to answer the next work call, spend every second binging ‘Aristocats’ with you until we can both recite every line."

A shaky breath slipped past your lips and Yoongi let the smile fade away and be replaced by a thin line as he tried to swallow the tears and silence the sobs threatening to tear through his throat.

Your voice was weak, barely above a whisper, but you didn’t care. It didn’t matter because only he was supposed to hear.

This was for him and for him only.

“I want to spend every second of the rest of my life loving you.”

Yoongi screwed his eyes shut and you could see him try his hardest not to cry, not to break.

“Because every second I’ve had the honour and pleasure of spending with you, you’ve made me feel just that, made me feel so incredibly loved, loved so deeply that I never knew what to do, loved so unconditionally that I could never thank you enough for it.

“And I want to love you, love you until I can only remember how to love you, love you until my numbered days come to an end, love you so much that I outgrow, outlive my own capacity to love you.”

You paused, biting on your tongue as you swallowed the thick lump that had lodged itself into your throat. It hurt, hurt you so much to do this, but you knew you had to, knew that this was the right thing to do.

“Because you’re incredible.”

Yoongi peeled his eyes open to look right at you and you felt gutted, beaten as you looked into his beautiful eyes.

You let out a breath, sniffling a little before continuing.

“Because you’ve taught me how to open up, how to share, how to empathise, how to be patient, how to listen, how to speak up, how to live.

“But most importantly you taught me how to love.”

A strand fell into your face and you tucked it away, eyes digging further into Yoongi’s.

“And at the same time, you taught me how to dance with tears in my eyes, how to smile with pain ripping through me, how to speak with sobs tearing through my throat, how to live when my world is falling apart, how to buy a notebook and fill it with my own pain, how to be there for my dad through his battle with cancer.

“And I want to promise you my life, want to promise you every little piece of me, but you already have it all. It’s all yours already.”

Even with tears blurring your vision, you could see Yoongi clearly in front of you, could see the pieces of him you were holding onto.

“So, instead I’m going to promise you that every day I will get back up on my feet and fight through it all.

“I’m going to promise you that I will remember all of the lessons you’ve taught me, remember all of the things you muttered quietly in the middle of the night when I couldn’t fall asleep again, remember the words you whispered into my ear when the pain was threatening to rip me apart and consume me whole.”

You licked your lips, voice breaking as the tears continued to roll down your cheeks and stain the pages in front of you. But you didn’t care.

“You can do it. I know right now it seems almost impossible, but trust me, you can do this.”

Yoongi’s teeth sank into his tongue as you recited his words.

“You’re so incredibly strong and amazing and great. And there’s nothing you can’t do and this is no different.

“Every day is a new start, an opportunity to get back up on your feet and fight through it all. And I know it’s hard and that nothing seems fair right now, but—and it sucks to admit it—that is just life.”

The corners of Yoongi’s lips turned up into the tiniest smile as you continued to speak, not needing a single second to think about what to say.

“But don’t let life beat you up, don’t let life tear you down, don’t let life reduce you to nothing, don’t let life stop you and hold you back.”

Your hands tightened around the edge of the podium and you knew if you didn’t hold onto it, you would collapse, your knees would just buckle underneath you.

“Because you’re incredible.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line as you finished reciting Yoongi’s words. He looked at you with this smile on his lips, this bittersweet smile, and you could only mirror it, mirror it because with every word, with every sentence you could feel yourself let go more and more.

There was silence for a few seconds as you caught your breath and pulled yourself together. And if you had looked away for once, if you had taken your eyes off of Yoongi for just a second, you would have realised that everybody else was sobbing already, that you were keeping it together the best.

“You once told me that the average person can remember 10000 faces and recall 5000 of those and if I were ever to fall down the stairs and get amnesia like every girl does in the soap operas we loved to watch and laugh at,” another quiet laugh rippled through the rows, “I will promise you that I will still remember your face. And if my 5000 faces become only one face, it will be your face.”

Yoongi was sobbing alongside the others and you could feel yourself weaken, could feel yourself start to break apart more and more, turn into a weeping mess.

“Yoongi, Berlioz, you might not have been my first kiss or even my first love, but, trust me, you made all of the people before you irrelevant because no one compares to you. You were the only love that truly mattered, you were my one true love, the love of my life.”

Yoongi and you looked at each other and with quivering lips, Yoongi mouthed a single word.

Toulouse.

You smiled.

Berlioz.

Yoongi’s lips split into a bittersweet and painful grin at your response and you remembered it, imprinted it into your mind before you spoke up again,

“I love you, Berlioz.”

You blinked a few times before you closed your eyes. A deep breath filled your lungs as you prepared yourself for it. You whispered the last words and you knew he heard them nevertheless, you just knew,

“Thank you for everything, Yoongi, Berlioz, my genius.”

When you peeled your eyes open again, Yoongi was gone, but that was fine, fine because you got to say your goodbye to him.

You sat down with your notebook close to your heart and this time you didn’t leave space for Yoongi. And when you raised your head, you looked at the picture and saw him.

The love of your life.

→  links don’t work, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts/feedback! i’d love to hear it!

[harvestleaves]

When you breathe, I wanna be the air for you

Summary: Alex has a cold and it’s making his childhood asthma act up, his friends are worried about him, but he’s used to handling things on his own.

A/N: This fic takes place around season 3.  The song title is from the Bon Jovi song I’ll Be There For You.  There might be a second chapter or a sequel if enough people are interested.  @honeybee-babe​ enjoy!  You can also read this on Ao3 here.

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,423

He couldn’t breathe through his nose, and his head was throbbing.

That was the first thing Alex noticed when he woke up on a rainy Friday morning in early November on Meredith’s couch. He had a 48-hour shift ahead of him, though, and he didn’t have time to deal with it.

Pushing himself to his feet, Alex made his way to the bathroom with the duffle bag he brought, closing the door in Izzie’s face with a sly smirk as the blonde huffed at him.

“Come on, Alex! You’re gonna take forever in there!” she called through the door, causing Alex to roll his eyes in annoyance.

“Calm down, Iz, I’m just gonna take a quick shower and brush my teeth,” Alex yelled back hoarsely before he turned to the medicine cabinet, opening to search for some type of pain reliever or cold medicine.

Spotting some Tylenol, he quickly checked the expiration date, noting how it was almost outdated.  Shrugging, he shook two into his hand and swallowed the pills dry before he turned the water on in the shower to hot.

He stripped quickly as steam filled the room, hoping that the warm air would help clear his inflamed sinuses.

Alex made quick work of his shower and teeth brushing.  Finishing in the bathroom in under ten minutes before he went back into the hallway, a few coughs slipping past his lips when the cool air entered his lungs. A harsh contrast to the steam he was just in.

“That cough sounds bad. Are you okay?” Izzie asked as she reached out for his arm, frowning when Alex immediately moved away from her hand and passed her down the hallway.

“I’m fine. Just a throat tickle,” Alex explained, voice tight to keep from letting out another wheeze as he quickly made his way down the hall and back down to the kitchen for some coffee.  He wrinkled his nose, however, at the sight of Meredith and Derek kissing.

“It is way too early to see you two sucking face.”

“You don’t live here. Therefore, you can’t comment on it,” Meredith shot back with a grin as she pulled back from Derek. Her grin quickly disappeared when she took note of how pale Alex’s face was and how his shoulders seemed to heave with every breath he took.

“You look like shit. Are you hungover from last night?”

Meredith made her way over to where Alex was pouring a mug of coffee and reached out to press the back of her hand to his forehead.

“You’re a little warm. You’re also wheezing, and you sound congested. Are you sick?” she asked, scrunching her brows together in concern.

“I’m not hungover, and I’m not sick. It’s probably just my asthma from the weather change,” Alex lied easily as he tried pushing her hand off of his forehead with a glare.

“That’s still not good. I didn’t know you have asthma. Do you have an inhaler in your bag?” Meredith asked, glancing between Alex and the worn duffle bag on the counter, reaching for it carefully.

“Nope, it’s in my locker. It’s not a big deal though, I can breathe fine. It’s just a little wheeze, I’m still moving air, and this wheeze should go away once I get some coffee in me. The caffeine will be enough until I can take the meds,” Alex rolled his eyes as he looked at Meredith, giving Derek a pointed look to back him up.

Looking between his girlfriend and Alex, Derek sighed before his face softened as he looked over Alex.

“I’ve got to agree with Mer on this one. You sound awful,” Derek admitted.  Grabbing Meredith’s spare stethoscope from the kitchen table, Derek slid the tips into his ears and pressed the base to Alex’s back after warming it up.  “Take some deep breaths,” he stated firmly, leaving no room for argument from the younger male.

“This is ridiculous,” Alex rolled his eyes before he started to cough again, gripping the counter tightly. His chest was heaving when the fit was over as he tried to take a few deep breaths, Derek’s firm hand steadying him in place as the other listened to his lungs.

“Yeah, I don’t think your inhaler is really going to help at this point. I’m off this morning. I can go with Alex to the ER for a breathing treatment if you want to let Bailey know he won’t be on shift today.”

“D-don’t you think I should have a say in this?” Alex grumbled breathlessly as George and Izzie made their way into the kitchen for breakfast.

“What’s wrong with him?” George asked curiously as he glanced from Derek to Alex to Meredith, eyeing the stethoscope that Derek had looped back around his neck with a raised eyebrow.

“He’s sick. He was flushed and wheezing when I saw him after his shower in the hallway,” Izzie stated as she crossed her arms over her chest.  Not even feeling the slightest bit bad for ratting out her friend.

“And his asthma’s acting up on top of it all. Whatever he caught has clearly settled itself into his lungs. He needs a nebulizer and probably some IV steroids for the tightness in his chest,” Derek stated as he handed Alex over to Meredith so she could lead him to one of the chairs at the kitchen table before he finished preparing the mug of coffee for Alex.

“Sip on this until we’re all ready to go. It’s not as good as your inhaler, but it should hold you over for a little longer. Did you take anything for your fever?” Meredith asked as she took the mug from Derek and handed it to Alex.

“Why didn’t you say that you weren’t feeling well?” George frowned in concern as he brought his own mug up to his mouth, having thought that the four of them, plus Cristina, had become closer since their internship had started.

Alex simply shrugged as he stared at his coffee, no longer interested in the beverage as the other four seemed to all be staring at him.

“I took two Tylenol, but they expire next month, so they might not be very effective.  I didn’t want you all to worry, though. You all seem to like to coddle each other too much. I didn’t want or need to have you mother me,” Alex finally wheezed out as he ran a hand over his face in exhaustion, wincing when he tried to take a deep breath.

“Alex, you’re our friend. We’re always going to worry about you.  Whether you like it or not,” Izzie sighed softly as she placed her hands on his shoulders to try and work out the knots she was positive were there from his strained breathing.  “Now go put your shoes on so we can get you treated.”

Groaning, Alex shuffled to the living room to slip on his sneakers, sitting down on the couch when the tight feeling in his chest in his chest caused a wave of dizziness to fall over him.

Dropping his head to focus on catching his breath, Alex let out a shaky wheeze before he brought a hand up to his chest to rub at his sternum.

It was definitely getting harder for him to breathe, and though he’d never admit it to anyone.  He was scared.  He could deal with the bloodiest of surgeries at work, but asthma attacks always seemed to shake him to his core.  It was that childhood fear that still lingered within him that one day he’d have an attack by himself, with his inhaler unable to help and he would suffocate.  Alone.  How he had lived most of his life.

“Ready to go?”

Alex lifted his head to look up at Meredith as she crouched in front of him, her hand resting gently on his heaving shoulder as a sign of support.  I’m here for you.  Meredith was always great under pressure, though he could see a softness in her eyes that was typically only reserved for Derek, Cristina, and her patients.  In that order.  And even though he resented her for pitying him, for caring about him when he’d been nothing but an ass to them all.  There was just a small part of him that was thankful for having friends that seemed to genuinely care about his well-being.

“Y-yeah, I’m ready.”

And he was.  For whatever life threw at him, because his friends were always going to be there for him.

[blissfulsun]

could you pleasee do 70&76 with Jeff from the angst prompts? 💞

hello my darling!! I’m sorry this took a couple of days, but its lowkey my favourite thing Ive ever written???🥺 Hope u like it just as much, ily💓 I changed both the slightest to fit into the idea I had I hope u don’t mind!!

word count: 1,713

Pretty little fears // Jeff Wittek

Jeff Wittek was a name you knew all too well. Except it used to bring visions of playgrounds and games of hide & seek, later swapped in for nights of sneaking out and stolen liquor from your father's hidden cabinet. Now, the man standing across the living room resembled more of a stranger.

Yet you somehow noticed him, eyes still instantly drawn to his taller figure in any room, this one particularly overcrowded. Your attention shifts when the friends you came with suggest a move to the garden.

He's listening to Toddy's story, or rather trying to make sense of the drunken rambling when a familiar head of hair passes in the corner of his eyes. It can't be, he tries to convince himself, searching past surrouding faces netherless, hopeful of the outcome but you're already gone.

You keep missing each other like that most of the night, you intentionally and Jeff still unsure if longing for you has finally materialised into him imagining you there in person.

The two of you collide when David stumbles across your group of girlfriends and invites you guys to 'rate his hot and less hot friends for a video'. You have no reason to say no, unaware of his connection to your hometown friend, never one to care much about social media and its content.

You make eye contact the moment you pass the threshold into the kitchen where the vs is gathered, Jeff first to speak despite the initial shock. 'y/n/n?' Others quiten down around you, eager to understand the connection between the two of you.

‘Long time Wittek' he's slightly confused and hurt by the careless tone of your greeting, his own mind going a hundred miles an hour at simply having you in such close proximity again.

You're silently seething, body simultaneously hot with rage and cold with faked indifference. You remain that way as he closes the distance between you, stiff in his arms when Jeff pulls you into a tight embrace.

The two of you remain like that for a while, your body melting into his form without permission. When he pulls away eventually, it's only far enough to look down at your face and ask 'wanna head outside? We have some catchin' up to do'. You sigh and nod, all too knowing that he wouldn't really let you have the choice.

Jeff couldn't let you go now that you seemingly fell back into his life, his hands guiding you as if you were to get lost in the house you've been in for the better portion of the night, you let him have at least that.

As soon as the two of you are outside and in a less crowded area you step away, distancing yourself from him in spite of the puppy eyes he directs at you. 'Well?..' You ask, hands wrapping around your waist in an effort to appear stand offish, the effort noted but futile.

Jeff just thinks you look adorable trying to stay mad at him, the attempts always failing in the past: from the time he tripped and accidently fell into your pride and joy of a sandcastle at four to the days when he began to fall into the wrong crowd, showing up at your window past midnight, asking to stay the night in a broken voice you could never say no to.

That's what your relationship with Jeff was, you gave and gave and he took. It wasn't always the case, early formative years of your friendship spent in mutual affection. He would push, punch and kick the bullies and in return you would offer him half of your snacks.

Then it transitioned to fighting just about anyone, and for any reason, not just for you. Still, you would bandage up the cuts and bruises, gentle kisses healing his scars better than any ointment.

You were a team, is what both of you would say whenever questions arose, jealous girlfriends & boyfriends alike or your parents increasingly protective in light of his misbehaviours. Even his own mother, who really just wanted the best for him and you, unsure at one point if you could pull him back and if it was fair to put such pressure on a 17 year old girl. You couldn't, evidently.

Jeff continued to hang out with a crowd you refused to be around and then you left for college. He was upset at first, his fear of abandonment and simply missing you translating into weeks of radio silence until he showed up at your dorm, the two of you falling back into the friendship no one else could understand.

It was fine like that for a while and then he left for Miami, promising to stay safe and in touch, though less often than either of you would like. His seventh arrest was the final blow, you mostly unaware to the extent of his illegal activities and the number of times Jeff found himself behind bars. That last time was the worst, not only because he was sentenced to at least a couple of months but because his own mother finally informed you.

'Jeff? Seriously...' your anger snaps him out of reminiscing. You look far less eager to take a trip down memory lane, but if he's already taken up your time you might as well get some answers, you decide. 'Why?' you grit your teeth, continuing 'why did you abandon me?' It's a loaded question and you're terrified of it's outcome.

‘Darlin' Jeff tries, his hand reaching for your own but you stand your ground despite his softened expression. 'No. Enlighten me. How do you spend every day with someone, write and call for months and just...just lie until you had no choice but admit you were fuckin' dealing drugs Jeffrey.' You want to shout, holding back for the sake of not gathering yourself an audience.

Meanwhile he visibly flinches at the accusing tone of yours. After a couple of calming breaths you look up at his face and begin to feel small again, back to the little girl barely reaching his shoulders & always gripping at the sleeve of his jumper.

'That's not even the worst part...' your words are softer now, Jeff can't decide if that and the tears gathering in your eyes are worse than the angry dialogue. 'The worst part is that you never responded...to any of my letters. I drove hundred of miles as a broke ass student only to find out I was already written off your visitors list' you pause, looking up to the sky to gather yourself and prevent the waterworks begging to start.

He just watches you both in awe and undeniable pain, heart split between letting you go as to not relive the pain and bringing you into his arms, body aching for the familiar comfort no one else has ever been successful in replacing, not really. 'After everything we've been through?' The last question comes out broken.

'I'm sorry...' he scrambles to reword when he catches sight of the perplexed anger adorning your face. 'I...you were goin' places alright? You were always going to be someone great darlin'. I just slowed that down and then...the final arrest happened. And I...you didn't need to see me like that, behind bars. I would rather do it alone a million more times than to put you through that.'

Jeff can only hope his explanation comes across half as elegantly. It doesn't, he realises at your sudden outburst, 'That wasn't your choice to make! Fuck you.' The response draws some unwanted attention to the pair of you, his friends standing in a corner nearby and trying to work out your significance.

'Angel please...' Jeff decides to try an old method of calming you down, hand wrapping around the back of your neck under the cascading hair you let down for the night. Your mind is still focused on the erupting anger, but your body, it surrenders to the familiar hold, shoulders unwittingly losing tension and expression softening while he stares in your eyes.

'You weren't alone.' The softness with which you deliver your next response shocks you both. The thought continues at sight of his confusion, 'You didn't have to do it alone. We were a team, from the time we were barely four...' Jeff nods at that truth. 'I know...' he's not sure whether to continue, unsure if this was the right place or time but already in too deep with a single look into your glassy eyes.

‘I know but I loved you-' 'wha' your attempt at interruption and shocked expression is ignored. '-and I know you loved me too angel. That's why...I could never do that to you' The confession hangs in the air, but at least it's finally out there, Jeff thinks. Years of repressed emotions and regret spilling over in favour of gentle relief inside your childhood best friend.

You clear your throat, 'right..' the eye contact is broken as you force your body away from his hold. He's confused, heart dropping into his stomach in disappointment as you stiffly walk around him and back inside without another word.

Jeff takes the leap and catches up to you outside, short of breath from the chase. '-wait!! That's...that's it? ' he has to ask. You whip around to face him for the second time tonight.

‘Yes! That's fuckin' it you asshole. You single handedly ripped my heart out and disappeared from my life like it was the easiest thing in the world! Of course I have always loved you, you..you selfish arrogant little pri-' the rant was left unfinished, a soft pair of lips shutting you up.

Jeff had to kiss you. It's been all he's thought about since you stepped into the random kitchen a couple minutes ago, the need so intense and eerily reminscent of his teenage years and early adulthood, always left unfulfilled for your own sake.

This time...he's tired of denying himself the pleasure, years older and maybe wiser, unwilling to ever let you go again. 'm still mad at you..' you mumble when he finally has to pull away for some air. The laugh that escapes him both infuriates and enamores you further, 'I know darlin...but I love you too.'

[killianglyndon]

Someone You Care ch2

A/N: This one explains their first meet from Rafael’s point of view. And I forgot to say this last chapter, this series’ timeline began from late S16. This chapter is somewhat based on 16x23 “Surrendering Noah.” But Nick didn’t get shot in this. ( I'm sorry i just don’t want to send him away.) And if the link isn’t working, or you want to be on the taglist, please let me know.

Warnings: rape mentioned, some gunshots mentioned, blood (nothing too graphic)

Series masterlist

Next chapter

(A few months ago)

When you and Intelligence walked into the squad room, you caught Rafael’s eye. From your navy blazer, to your black footwear. He could tell you more value the practicality than fancy, and of course, the badge hanged on your neck.

He watched you as you pointed the pictures on the whiteboard, explaining your findings on the case. The moment his emerald green eyes caught yours, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of heat creeping into his cheeks. His heartbeat definitely sped up. Thankfully, no one had any attention on Rafael, he could save himself from the embarrassment of being caught staring at you.

After Yates’ trial, SVU and Intelligence went out for drinks. To celebrate that the serial rapist, Yates, had been put behind the bars, and mourned for your friend, Nadia. Everyone had grabbed their drinks and toasted to their dear friend, Nadia.

About an hour or two later, almost everyone had gone home or hotel to rest, except you. Rafael saw you drinking your beer alone at the corner table, so he walked toward you. “Detective?” He said, and you turned your gaze from your drinks to him. “You okay?” He asked. “Maybe...” “Mind if I sit?” He asked carefully, and you shook your head. He sat down beside you and put his scotch on the table. “You know...? Nadia had taken the police exam, she was finally getting back on the track...” you murmured sadly, tears around your eyes. “She been through this much, and...and...Why is everyone leaving me?” You finally broken down, you had kept your emotions deep inside you for all this time, and Rafael pulled you into his arms to let you cry into his chest. “I’m here...you’re not alone...shh..” He traced small patterns with his hands on your back, holding you in his arms. Until you finally got yourself together, you slowly pulled away from his embrace. “I...uh...sorry.” You whispered, “ Don’t be, I know it’s hard when cases like this happened...” He averted his gaze to meet yours. “Thank you, but I...I should probably get going. Good night, counselor.” You hastily grabbed your things and walked out of the bar.

—————-

(Now)

It was been weeks since you joined SVU, you were surely got more acquainted with everyone, and more specifically, Rafael Barba. You two had been texting from time to time, talking about work, life, or even telling some jokes. He even brought you coffee sometimes when he came to the precinct. Every time he did that, certainly made the Staten Island detective ask you questions or give weird facial expressions. Sure, you and Rafael flirted a lot, and you definitely not the only one enjoyed it.

While you mindlessly recalling some encounters with Rafael, he walked into the squad room with two drinks in his hands. You haven’t realized that he walked in until he put a cup of coffee on your desk, and gave you a squeeze on your shoulder before walking into Liv’s office. Your cheeks heated and redden up a little, he did this gesture so many times, but your heart rates undoubtedly sped up every time. “I really can’t figure out how Barba can be like that.” Carisi commented, his face turned into confusion. “Like what?” You asked. “This all-loving-and-caring thing.” “He just being nice, that’s all.” “Nah, he definitely has feelings for you.” You felt your cheeks reddened up more, “I uh...” “You should ask him out, ya know?” That was when Rafael standing behind your seat. “Who?” Rafael asked. “What? uh...no one!” You said as calmly as you could. Rafael shot Carisi a confused glare, and Carisi just shrugged. “See you soon, detectives.” Rafael said and looked at two of you before leaving.

Rafael thought you had good times with him, but maybe you didn’t? Sure, two of you hadn’t labeled anything yet. But maybe all this time, you just being polite? Or there was someone else for you? Rafael just questioned himself more. His past relationships certainly made him a little insecure. Rafael didn’t have any sleep that night, just tossing and turning in his bed wondering if you liked him back or not.

—————

Another case came in, a sex-trafficking group was busted. SVU had successfully found the missing girl, Ariel. She was held hostage when the police trying to take out Johnny D. Luckily, Liv was successfully convinced him to let Ariel go, but that son of bitch asked for a lawyer immediately.

During the process, it turned out that Noah’s father was Johnny D. Rafael had been telling Liv that she didn’t have to put his name on Noah’s adoption information, but Liv didn’t want her life with Noah built on the lies.

Rafael had asked SVU’s detectives to make sure every girl feel safe so that they wouldn’t back out in the last minute. But when the first witness, Pilar, testified, she said all she did was cleaning Johnny D’s apartment, and he didn’t rape her. This surely gave a blow to this case.

This angered Ariel and other witnesses, who later testified that Johnny D brutally beaten them up, drugged them, and raped them repeatedly. But when Ariel testifying, some women, including Pilar jumped out and saying she was a liar. This went down quickly, as you and Nick trying to make them sit down. Johnny D took advantage of this situation. He flipped the table, and grabbed one of the court officers’ guns, and held one as a hostage. You and Nick saw this, so both of you drew out your guns and pointed at Johnny D. “Drop the gun!” Nick shouted. “Drop it now!” You added and slowly approaching him. Before you could respond, he shot you in the shoulder and took the hostage rushing out the door. “You okay?” Nick asked, “I fine. Go!” You said weakly.After hearing you Nick chased after him, Your shoulder aches so much, and the blood kept coming out, then you fell to the ground. Rafael rushed over to you, and shrugged off his jacket adding pressure on your wound. “(y/n), hey, stay with me!” He shouted. You could feel your consciousness was drifting away, you tried to use your other hand to grasp his forearm. “I...I like you a lot, Rafael...” You said weakly. Rafael felt his tears trying to roll down, “ I like you too, (y/n). Don’t you dare die on me! Help is on the way.” Your visions started getting blurry. Before you could answer, everything went black.

——————

You were rushed into surgery as soon as you were sent to the hospital, Rafael rode in the ambulance with you. Rafael was worried sick, he was just wondering if you had feelings for him or not. It turned out you did, but right now he was regretting that he didn’t tell you earlier. All he could do now is pray for you, hoping you would be alright.

Liv saw Rafael sitting in the chair with some blood on his shirt. Rafael was miserable. Liv walked over to him, “How long have you two been dating?” Liv asked. “We not dating... she just told me that she likes me a lot be..before she passed out...” Rafael murmured, his hand rubbing his face. “Oh...that’s...she will be alright, Rafael.” Liv put her hand on Rafael’s shoulder, giving his a squeeze. Rafael just nodded but didn’t say anything. “When she wakes up, ask her out.” Liv giving Rafael a knowing look. “I will...definitely.”

After a few hours, the doctor went out of the O.R, Rafael and the squad immediately rushed to him. “How is she?” Rafael asked. “She’s stable for now, we managed to remove the bullet, she should make a full recovery. But we still need to keep her for observation for 48 hours to make sure the wound won’t get any infection. You may go see her if you want, she should be awake at any minute.” The doctor replied. “Go, she must want to see you first.” Liv encouraged. Rafael nodded and slowly walked into your room.

You were lying there, looking pale, it was like the blood drained out of your face. Rafael couldn’t be more heartbroken than this, seeing you lying there, with some IV stuck in your forearm. Rafael walked to your bed, and sit in the chair beside you. Your eyes slowly opened, you spotted Rafael sitting next to you. “Hey...” You murmured. “Hey” Rafael put his hands on your left hand, tracing small patterns on it. “How’s everyone?” You asked weakly, your voice sounded hoarse. “A court officer got shot in the head...and Amaro shot Johnny D, he died on the scene.” You nodded. “You feeling okay?” Rafael asked worriedly. “ I’m okay, really...” You gave him a small smile. “God, I was so scared...I should have told you sooner...” He sniffed. “Hey, you’re not getting away from me that easily.” You joked and intertwined his fingers with yours. “Would you like to go on a date with me? I mean after you recover, obviously.” He smiled. “I would love to.” You grinned.

Liv, Carisi, and other people in the squad came into the room, “How are you feeling, (y/n)?” Liv asked first. “I’m fine, Sarge. Really.” You replied. “I called Voight... I figure he might want to know.” Liv said. “Thank you.” You replied. “By the way, you’re having desk duty until you fully recover. And please, take a few weeks off before getting back to work, okay?” Liv said. “Okay.” Liv specifically told you to rest up before leaving. And Carisi was blabbering that he would make you some Italian dishes from his mother’s recipe.

You were appreciated that there were so many people who cared about you. Guess you did found another family.

After a while, most people went home, except Rafael, of course. “You know you don’t have to stay here with me, right?” You said. “I know, but I want to.” He smiled. “What about work?” You asked. “It’s taken care of, I gave some to other A.D.A. I also take tomorrow off...” “I...Thank you...for being here.” You looked into his bright green eyes, and your gaze turned to his lips for a second. Rafael must felt the tension between you two, he leaned in and kiss on your lips. One of his hands traveled to your face and caressed it. Your left hand sneaked to his back of the neck, pulling his hair a little. Your lips melted into each other’s, it was even better than you had imagined. You pulled back until you two were breathless. “Wow...” You gasped, “Yeah...” He chuckled a little. “It was amazing.” You blushed. Rafael now sat back down in the chair. “After you recover, I’ll take you out on so many dates that we can’t even count.” He smirked. “Can’t wait.” You smiled.

Taglist: @ritajammer21

[xhannahbananax03]

Swimming Lessons Chapter 4

Words: 1196

Chapter Warnings: Needles, age gap, flirtatious behavior ;)

MASTERLIST

Waking up in the hospital was strange to say the least, the bright industrial lights hurt your eyes and as you tried to roll to your side but found a small sting striking you from your elbow up to your shoulder.

Groaning you looked over at your arm in search of what was causing the pain, seeing a needle you scrunched your nose up and slowly reached over to pull it out but the door rattled open before you had time.

"Good morning Sweetie." A tall woman smiled over at you, she wore a matching set of burgundy scrubs and held a clipboard in her long slender fingers, "How are we feeling?" She asked as she walked over to the side of the bed with a rolling monitor showing your heart rate, blood pressure, and other vitals.

"I'm ok, I guess?" You said confused as to what was happening and why you were in the hospital, she checked a few boxes on her paper before undoing the tape holding your IV in place and pulling it out making you wince softly.

She quickly put a Band-Aid over the small entry wound, laying your arm over your stomach you looked around the room in search of someone else, "Your dad took your little sister to the cafeteria." She smiled down at you opening your window to let the fresh summer breeze in.

"Is my mom here?" You asked already knowing the answer but just wanting to be confirmed, she shook her head her brown bob swaying with the movement. With a sad sigh you turned your head to look out the window and she swiftly left the room closing the door quietly behind her.

Fiddling with the light blanket on your lap you waited for you dad and Holly to come back, hopefully with something for you to eat. Hearing the door creak open you turned your head and smiled seeing your little sisters head poke through the doorway.

"Sissy!" She squealed loudly, running to your side and climbing up onto your lap. Wincing at the loud noise, you smiled through the pain and held your little sister close to your chest.

"Shh Holly!" You dad shushed her softly but gave her a soft smile before walking over and kissing your head softly, careful of the still healing stitches along the lower part of your head, luckily the spot where your head split open had been low enough that none of your hair had to be shaved off. "How you doing honey?"

You smiled painfully and let go of your sister as she began wiggling in your grasp, "Ok I guess." You reached over and grabbing the pudding cup that was sitting on the bedside table, opening the top you dug your spoon into the delicious dessert and took in a heaping mouthful with a happy grin.

Your dad cleared his throat, catching your attention, "So that Billy kid stopped by earlier... Left you those." He told you, pointing to the small vase of roses and sunflowers a dinky teddy bear tied to the base of the cheap glass.

You smiled and finished off your pudding before looking back to your dad who had an expecting look on his face, "What?" You asked confused as to what he was expecting.

"What's going on between you two?" He asked bluntly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "besides swimming lessons."

You blushed a deep red and looked down at your hands, fiddling with your fingers, "Nothing Dad. He's not into me like that, he's just a teacher..."

He scoffed lightly giving you a coy smile before standing and brushing off his pants, "Well you ready to go? You got discharged earlier today but hadn't woken up yet." You nodded eagerly and quickly got dressed in the attached bathroom before walking with your dad and little sister to get your prescription.

"That's so unfair!" Your little sister complained, crossing her arms over her chest pouting as she gave you a deadly glare.

You laughed softly and held the flowers in your hands, careful not to mess up any of the petals, "sorry Hol... Doctors orders." You smiled over at her but she refused to look at you.

You were told not to do to much heavy work, including driving, walking alone, lifting, or chores. Which Holly found absolutely unfair, considering her and Mike now had to split up your chores between the both of them.

You and Mike were only a couple months apart, you being the older one. This meant you were very close, you did almost everything together. Until recently of course, with you now being a freshman in highschool and him being an 8th grader.

But that didn't change the fact that you still had that sibling rivalry. So him having to take half of your chores was sure to cause an uproar.

Pulling into the driveway, your dad unloaded your sister and walked up to the front door with you in tow, you still being slightly disoriented walked slightly slower.

Opening the front door, you were welcomed by the wonderful smell of cookies and the lovely quiet of your brothers friends not being around, but there was a sound. A soft chatting, then a obnoxious giggle you knew to be your mother's, then the deep chuckle that you knew to be your instructors. Billy.

Panic suddenly blossomed in your chest, you probably looked like crap. Your hair and teeth un-brushed, bruises covering the back on your neck and crook of your elbow, eyes sunken in from the lack of good rest.

Sneaking quietly past the kitchen where you family and Billy has gathered around a tray of cookies, your first foot hit the stairs and you thought you'd made it, but a loud creak caught your mother's attention as she leaned out of the kitchen and called your name.

Sighing heavily, you turned around your hospital slippers sliding on the hard, cold wood. "Yeah mom?" You asked holding the flowers and stuffed animal close to you.

"What do you think you're doing?" She asked quietly walking over to you, the commotion had caught Billy's attention and he stared at you and your mom.

"Going to my room?" She rolled her eyes and grabbing your wrist pulling you into the kitchen and right in front of Billy, "Uh hi." You said shyly giving him a little wave.

He returned the wave with a small smirk, looking at his gift which was currently clutched in your hands, "(Y/n), why don't you invite Billy to stay for dinner." You mother spoke up fixing her hair slightly and puffing her chest off more.

Rolling your eyes you sat the vase on the counter and sat on a barstool, picking a cookie up and taking a small bite of it, "Why don't you mom? You basically already did."

She scoffed and your dad scolded you before he turned on his heels to chase after your sister, "Fine. Billy, stay for dinner?" You sighed tiredly, just wanting today to be over.

His smirk turned wicked as he stared at your mom hungrily, "Ya know, I think I will..."

[thewolfisapartofmysoul]

Hey lovelies,

I wrote another fanfic. Its Beetlejuice x reader.... it turned out to be really fluffy, but its BeeJ so its gonna be smutty too. I've made a little *****-line. And under there it gets... down... to... smut-town. So if you dont like that, stop before the *****. If you are as thirsty as i am. Continue reading the whole thing. (Daddy kink! If ur not into that... im sorry. Scroll along.) I was thirsty im sorry.

Thanx again for reading, lovelies. 💕

Reader dying her hair purple leading to awesome time with our ghost-with-the-most .

So... you dyed your hair...

Ithink Beetlejuice wouldnt get it at first. Your hair was always a beautifull full brown colour.

And suddenly it was red. Not bright red... just... a LITTLE bit redder then usual. BeeJ would be a bit confused. But also SUPER turned on... cause he loved redheads. So he didn't questions it. Just roll with it. (And by rolling with it i ment you. Rolling you on your back.) But hey. Both of you happy... no questions asked.

2 months after that he would poof back home after scaring the neigbours, and you would be chilling on the couch watching movies. He would already be calling: "Hey babes!!! Did ya miss...." and he could finish his scentence cause then he saw you.

His beautiful beautiful breather. Chilling as usual. Looking very relaxed while watching her favorite show in her pyjama shorts.

Okay.... points for that. He noticed his need to touch her thighs... GOD she looked good in shorts! But that wasnt what made his breath hitch in his throat. His eyes traveled upwards to her hair... panic rising in his chest when he realised. It was purple. Well... more dark aubergine... but it still made him anxious. His own hair changing colour all of the sudden to match the one of his partner. Why was his favorite breather so sad that it made her hair turn purple?

You turned around and noticed the sudden change of his facial expressions... but also his hair changing colour rapidly. The bright green (when he was happy and excited after scaring people) made place for a deep purple. As Beetlejuice rushed closer to you and sat next to you to hold your hand you saw some streaks of pink popping through the purple. Thank God... he wasnt upset about you at least. The pink of his hair betraying the love he held for you. But the sadness and worry his purple hair usually carried had you worried instantly. What would make your favorite demon so troubled all of the sudden.

He kissed your hand while mumbling: "Babes... what's up? Are you upset? Why is your hair purple? Is it me? I promise i didn't dye the neigbours cat green again this time. Did miss Mullens talked to you? Cause... i swear i thought it was legal the last time and..."

You shut him up in the only way you knew how to that fast. You kissed him SO softly and with SO much passion he growled in your kiss slightly.

Doing so making you smile against his green scruff.

"Sweety..." you said after he pulled back. "Im not sad. Its just... purple because i like it that way."

You were relieved that when you looked closer you could see the purple dissapeared slightly from his hair. More pink there then purple... thanks to the passionate kiss you two had shared.

He still looked slightly confused... but you managed to explain hair dying to him... and after a minute or two he told you he understood.

With a flicker in his eyes and his hands already wandering over your bare thighs he smirked at you... "you look lovely babes. The purple gets me hungry."

He kissed your lips passionately and bit your lower lip. The move had you moaning. Before things went further down you pulled away... and looked him in the eye.

It could kill the mood but you had to say it to him. So you stated: "BeeJ... thanx for looking after me. It means a lot that you care enough to get sad when you think im sad."

"Anytime." He said. "Cant have my favorite breather all upset now can i?" With that he kissed you again. Very softly but you felt the need and the power in that kiss. The heat that was there.

***************************************

His hands very slowly traveled between your legs again and you felt your breath hitch when he found your clothed mouth. Your mouth fell open with anticipation for what was about to happen.

Beetlejuice took that moment to bite your lower lip, slowly going down towards your cheeckbone. You felt your eyes close at the sensation of his scruff against your cheek and neck while he was delicately placing kisses bites and licks on your cheek and neck.

His hand still teasingly rubbing your hand against your aching pussy. Very slowly. With a bit of pressure. But not quite enough to get you off. Yet.

You moaned silently at the contact. Craving more, but still very insecure about making noises. But your ghost-with-the-most picked up on it. You felt his fingers twitch lightly at the sweet sound of your voice, and he growled at the pleasure it gave him to hear that little whiper coming out of you.

He knew you needed some sort of comfort to proceed making hot noices like that. So he growled in a deep seductive tone: "thats it babygirl. You already so wet for me arent you? Im just barely touching your pussy and my beautiful purple princess is already moaning for me to let her come? You want to make daddy proud, dont you?"

You nodded your head, eyes closed at the sensation of his voice in your ear, the scruff on your cheeck and his hand still rubbing your clenching pussy.

"Use your words purple princess. Daddy wants to hear you. Daddy needs to hear how good he makes you feel. How hot and how ready you are to scream daddy's name. Moan for me babygirl."

You sighed. Troubled. Really wanted to... but still embarresed.

Suddenly that changed when his teeth found your earlobe. Tugging it softly with his teeth, growling your name while doing so.

You opened your mouth to moan the most quiet moan he ever heared. But oh boy did he notice.

"Thats it babygirl. Let daddy hear you. I love to hear the beautiful sounds you make babes. They are so hot. You are so hot. Thats my babygirl."

You moaned again slightly harder this time, his hand now fondling with your breast.

"Your doing such a good job babes... so ready and needy. With a wet tight pussy for daddy to take. Your doing great princess. Let me hear you again babes. Please."

His hand pinched your nipple roughly and you let out a cry of pleasure.

BeeJ growled at that. His pretty breather coming undone under his skilled hands. All spread beneath him... moaning for more. With her beautiful purple hair.

He started to rub his hand faster over her pussy.

She made the most beautifull sound he'd ever heared.

You were a mess. He was working magic with his hands over your aching body. Rubbing faster and faster over your still clothed pussy. Moaning with each stroke his fingers made. You felt your orgasm building while he took your hair in his hand, other hand still vigorously rubbing your pussy. You were panting and moaning and breathing very shallow. You were so close... you could feel it.

"Daddy's little girl. I love your hair like this babygirl. You look so pretty. Moaning and ready to come for daddy. Like the little slut you are. You like me rubbing you trough your pyjamas?"

You moaned at his dirty talk and the rubbing on your clit.

He rougly pulled your hair.

"I was asking something princess. Awnser daddy like a good girl." He growled into your ear.

"Yes daddy." You moaned. "I am. Ive been horny all day thinking about you BeeJ. Teasing myself through the shorts as i imagined what you would do to me when you came home. Ive been a very bad girl touching myself " you moaned.

"You make daddy so angry. Yet so hot." He panted. "I think you need a little punishment for being so naughty, babes." He growled so close you your ear, that you felt his tongue touching it lightly. You took in a sharp breath from both the tongue on your ear and the dirty talk of your demon echoing in your mind.

Beetlejuice practically purred while he offered his hand he had been rubbing on your aching pussy to you. He stick out his index and middle finger while purring into your ear: "suck daddy's fingers while i hear you moan babes..." You remained intense eye contact while slowly pulling your lips over his warm fingers. They smelled slightly of you, combined with the mixture of scents that was obvious BeeJ's. "So good babygirl... suck daddy's fingers" he praised you.

You moaned at the sensation sucking on his fingers brought you. Circling your tongue against his fingers. Licking up and down before closing your lips on it once again. Soflty whimpering while Beetlejuice used his free hand to play with your hair. "Nnrgh... daddy..." you whispered. "Please... PLEASE keep touching my hair" you moaned desperately. Craving his gentle touch on your scalp. "Am i doing good daddy?" You begged, while again sucking his fingers up and down.

Beetlejuice smiled at your begging. The moans you made were music to his ears. He purred and took his fingers out of your mouth. While remaining eye contact with you he plopped his own fingers in his mouth and took them out sofly, sensually. With a deep voice he cooed: "thats my good little slut. You did such a good job. You deserve a reward babygirl..." You never heard his voice sound so deep and gravely before.

He licked his lips and brought his wet fingers back to your entrance again. Rubbing fastly whitout mercy.

Whitin seconds you felt that white heat closing in on your orgasm again. The sensation of his wet fingers on your pussy while the other hand played with your hair and his lips closed around a nipple... soflty biting the skin you breathed his name against his neck.

"Im so close daddy" you keened in the crook of his neck. "Please make me come. Please daddy. Im begging you."

"It would be a pleasure babes. I love to hear you beg for daddy like the good little girl you are. So naughty playing with yourself when daddy was away hmm? Like the feeling of my fingers rubbing you, my princess?" He growled in your ear.

"Y-yeah da-daddy... oh... fuck... Thats it... right... there... faster please daddy..."He rubbed your clit even faster. You spread your legs open as wide as you could to give him more acces.

"Nnnrg. Yeah... like that da-ah-daddy... please"

"Thats it babygirl. Your doing so good. Being all spread out like this for me. God your gorgeous. Let me hear you babes."

You moaned his name tiredly and he squeezed your breast again. You whined "daddy... pleeeease..." as he slapped your pussy sofly, tugging your ear with his teeth and petting your hair he growled:

"Come for daddy y/n" placing a kiss on your neck.

With this you came. Screaming his name as you came.

He smiled a lopsided smile at you as he was holding you in his hands. Pulling you close to him to let you rest. Hugging back you felt him petting your hair softly mumbling praises in your ear. "You did so good baby. Im so proud of you. You are so beautifull babes."

You felt him putting his nose in your hair to sniff it, purring softly. You smiled to yourself as he did so.

You turned your head so you could kiss him softly on his lips. Giggling as he confessed: "love the purple hair babes. Looks good on you"

Kissing his nose you said: "should dye it more often then."

Beetlejuice chuckled and swooped you up bridal style to the bedroom.

You cackled all the way up.

Feeling blessed with a man... demon... in your life that loved you. Even with purple hair...

BeeJ unceremoniously dropped you onto the bed and started peppering you with kisses along your hairline. Slowly feeling up your sides and growling when he squeezed your but. You giggled. This was gonna be a LONG night.

[i-am-out-of-my-vulcan-mind]

How to Save a Life

Well I wasn’t going to write anymore for 5x05, but @lurkingwhump​ twisted my rubber arm and begged me to rewrite the episode as if Kurt had never been kidnapped. 

I’m sorry if it’s a little repetitive to the episode 🤷🏼‍♀️

I’ve taken the liberty of filling my @badthingshappenbingo​ square “CPR”. 

TW for use of foul language. 

Jane stumbled back into the bunker, her vision flashing, her side on fire. She could hear the team arguing, Kurt’s voice rising up above the others. 

“I’m going out to look for her!” he shouted. “Something must have happened. She should have gotten back around the same time as me and Tasha!”

A wave of pain rose up from her abdomen, causing her to stumble into the wall. She whimpered softly. Kurt… she needed to get to Kurt. 

Determination coursing through her, she pushed back off the wall, limping into the compound. 

“Jane!” Kurt cried, rushing to her side. 

“Oh thank god you’re ok!” Rich exclaimed coming towards her. Upon taking a second look at her he added. “You are ok, right?” 

Kurt helped Jane into a chair. 

“I ah… I got shot. But it’s just a graze.” she said matter of factly.  “Ivy was there. She was at the meet. We need to find her.” Jane said, pointing out the coordinates on the computer. “I saw her take off in a black SUV after I got shot. She’s our best hope at figuring out what the Dabbur Zann are up to.” She squeezed her eyes shut. Her pain was evident and Kurt couldn’t ignore it. 

“Here, let me take a look at you.” he said, his concern for his wife rising. 

Jane shook her head. 

“I’m alright.” she said in what she hoped was her most convincing tone. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll put a bandage on it.”

Kurt frowned. He knew his wife was stubborn, but she was hiding something. 

“You guys need to focus on finding Ivy.” she said, pushing herself to her feet. She bit back a cry of pain at the movement, leaving the room quickly before she had to answer questions. Right now finding Ivy was their main priority - she was the key to getting their lives back. 

Jane locked herself in the small storage room and gingerly lifted up her shirt. Blood oozed down her abdomen, soaking the waistband of her jeans. She ripped open a couple of packets of gauze and applied as much pressure as she could without yelling out. The last thing she needed was her husband breaking down the door and finding her in this state. 

He deserved to get home to his daughter. To his life. Patterson needed to get home to her family. They all had people waiting for them and finding Ivy was the easiest way to get there. 

She stuck a large wound pad across the bullethole, hoping it would absorb enough of the blood for it to go unnoticed. She disposed of all of the blood soaked gauze, before taking a deep breath and heading back out to the others. She leaned up against a pole, surreptitiously clutching at her side. She could already feel her shirt soaking through. 

“I can’t believe this! So far this SUV has avoided every camera that we have managed to hack into! I am so sick of not having my actual lab!” Patterson cried, her voice laced with frustration. 

“Ok, so what’s next?” Jane asked, blinking heavily. She was fading faster than she thought she was going to. 

Patterson shrugged. 

“I’m not sure. I’m going to have to keep combing through this footage until something comes up.”

“We need to find her.” Kurt said almost desperately. “I haven’t seen my daughter in three months… she’s in the hospital. I need to see her.”

“I know. I’m doing the best I can.” Patterson said dejectedly. 

“Maybe we should go back to where we last saw Ivy… look for clues.” Kurt suggested. 

Their voices faded with the ringing of her ears. A burning nausea rose up the back of her throat as her vision faded in and out. Jane felt like she was deep underwater, pressure and weight building up in her as if her blood was made of lead. 

“We should go, now. We can’t waste anymore time.” Kurt growled. He couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. 

“There’s gonna be a problem with that.” Jane slurred, before collapsing to the floor with a thwack. 

“Jane!” Kurt yelled, rushing to her side, Tasha and Patterson lifting up her shirt to inspect her injury. 

“This is not a graze.” Tasha breathed, shock laced through her words. 

Kurt moved, cradling Jane’s head in his lap. Patterson took his place, pressing down on the dressing Jane had applied earlier. 

“There’s no exit wound, but with this much blood, the bullet must be pressing up against something… an artery or an organ.” Tasha said, looking up at Patterson. 

“We’ve gotta get her to a hospital or at least a very shady veterinarian!” Rich cried out, watching Jane slowly gain consciousness. She cried out, the agony she was feeling finally winning the battle of hide and seek. 

“Jane!” Kurt called, stroking her hair off her sweaty forehead. 

“I’m ok.” she cracked, trying to get her body back under control.

“No you’re not.” Kurt said incredulously. “You’re bleeding out Jane. We need to get you to a doctor.”

“No!” Jane cried. “We’re not risking me, or anyone else by going back out there.”

“Jane you’ve lost a lot of blood.” Tasha said quietly. The thought of losing anyone else was making it hard to breathe. “That bullet needs to come out.”

Decision made, Jane looked up at Patterson, giving her a determined look. “We’re doing the surgery here.”

“I’m sorry… surgery?” Rich cried in disbelief. 

Patterson looked into Jane’s eyes. There would be no changing her mind. Plus judging by how much blood she had already lost, she was too far gone to move anyway. 

“Ok let’s prep.” she said with a tone of finality. “We don’t have much time.” 

Patterson and Rich left to gather their supply of medical equipment and Tasha was sorting out a makeshift surgical table. Kurt placed a pillow under her head, before pressing down firmly, yet gently on her abdomen. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked gently. 

“Be-Bethany.” she stuttered through the pain. 

Kurt hung his head in understanding. She had put herself second, yet again. “Oh Jane.” he whispered softly. 

“Let’s get her off the floor.” Tasha said quietly. 

Kurt nodded in agreement, Tasha replacing his hands on Jane’s stomach while Kurt gently lifted her into his arms. Jane screamed in pain, burying her face into his neck to try and ground herself. 

“Shhh shh, it’s ok.” Kurt soothed, pressing his lips to her forehead. Jane was breathing heavily in his arms, he knew she would be more comfortable laying flat so he carefully put her down, though, he wanted nothing more than to gather her in his arms and shield her from the pain. 

“Just breathe baby.” he said instead, sharing a worried look with Tasha. They were very quickly running out of time. 

Patterson and Rich reappeared with all of the medical equipment they could carry. 

“How’s she doing?” Patterson asked Tasha, who was still holding pressure to her wound. 

“She’s ok…” Tasha replied. 

“She’s not going to be ok for much longer.” Kurt said urgently. “She needs blood.”

“We have that covered.” Patterson said, starting an IV in Jane’s hand.

“I’m sorry? Is there a Red Cross somewhere around here that I don’t know about?” Rich asked confused. 

Patterson shook her head. “Tasha has the same blood type. We can do an intravenous transfusion.”

“No… we can’t.” Rich burst out. The deathglare Tasha directed at him didn’t go unnoticed. 

“What do you mean no we can’t. What is going on with you two?” Patterson asked, clearly exasperated. 

“We just can’t.” Rich said, giving a pointed look to Tasha. There was no way he was going to be the one to spill the beans. Tasha needed to do that herself. 

“Jane’s life is at risk!” Patterson cried. “We don’t have much time left!”

“I’m pregnant.” Tasha said softly. 

Rich sighed in relief, so thankful that he wasn’t the only one to know now. 

“Oh… right… well that complicates things a bit.” Patterson said softly. She was more than a little hurt that Tasha hadn’t told her sooner. They were supposed to be best friends. 

“It complicates things a lot.” Kurt piped up. “She needs blood.”

“Yes she does.” Tasha said. “Prep me for a transfusion.” 

“No!” Jane said, finally speaking up. She had listened to them bicker for long enough. “It’s too dangerous for you to donate. We will have to find another way. End of discussion.”

“There is no other way.” Patterson told them. 

“How much time does the saline buy me?” Rich pointed at the saline, an idea brewing in his mind. 

“I don’t know… maybe an hour.” Patterson replied, clearly not in the mood for Rich’s games. 

“I have a guy…”

“You have a blood guy?” Kurt asked. 

“Give me forty five minutes!” Rich exclaimed. “Fifty tops!” And with that he was gone. 

Jane blew out a long shaky breath. 

“In the meantime, let’s keep looking for Ivy.” she croaked, her voice wobbly from the pain. 

“On it.” Patterson said, giving Jane’s hand a squeeze, before retreating to her desk. 

“Keep pressure on that.” Tasha directed to Kurt, knowing he wouldn’t leave Jane’s side for a second. 

When they were finally alone, he sat beside her, keeping his hands firmly placed on her injury. 

“How are you holding up?” he asked softly, frightened by the ghostly pallor to her skin. She was losing blood fast, but he knew doing the surgery without the blood was too risky. They just needed to be patient. 

“I’m ok…” Jane whispered. At his raised eyebrow she closed her eyes and took a breath. “Ok… so I’m not ok…” 

Kurt shook his head. 

“You should have told us.” he said, his face screwing up in emotional distress. He knew the reason she didn’t tell him was because she wanted to give them the best chance at finding Ivy. 

“I thought I could hold hold on long enough for us to find her…” Jane replied softly, her energy levels spent. 

Kurt sighed. “You really are a stubborn one aren’t you?”

Jane chuckled, only to regret it instantly when the movement caused pain waves so intense, they stole her breath away. 

Kurt, noticing her distress, started shushing her softly. “Sshh it’s ok…” he said softly. “Just breathe baby.”

Jane groaned in pain, trying not to hyperventilate as her breath hitched. “Ohh… god…” she breathed out through clenched teeth. 

“That’s right, just relax.” He watched her breathing slowly calm down and even out. She slipped away into a fitful sleep, though he knew she was probably closer to passing out than actually getting any real sleep. They needed that blood. And soon. 

0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°

“How’s she doing?” Patterson asked Kurt, not liking what she was seeing. She was deathly white, her eyes sunken in and her skin taking on a sickly hue. 

“Bad… I’m doing bad…” Jane replied for him. “How’s that blood coming?” 

At Patterson’s expression she knew they still hadn’t heard from Rich. 

“We need to start the surgery now…” Jane rasped. 

“No… Jane… without that blood, doing the surgery is too risky. You’ve already lost too much…” Patterson exclaimed. 

Jane closed her eyes. “I’m running out of time.” she whispered. “We need to start the surgery now… we just need to hope he makes it back in time, for us to finish.”

Patterson closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I know I act like I know everything… and ok I know a lot… but this is very out of my comfort zone.”

“Mine too…” Tasha added. “I mean I know some field medicine.. but this… this is very different.”

“Jane… it’s not too late to call the hospital.” Kurt said in his last hope that they wouldn’t have to do something so barbaric to his wife. 

Jane shook her head. 

“Even with my fake passport… my tattoos are too easily recognised…” she grunted in pain, whimpering from the effort of talking. 

“She’s right…” Patterson sighed. “But I honestly don’t think I can do this…”

Jane reached out for her hand… “It’s ok… I’ll talk you through it… we are doing this together.” she said, taking Tasha’s hand on her other side. 

“What can I do?” Kurt asked, still applying pressure to Jane’s abdomen. 

“Just be here…” Was all Jane replied. Kurt complied, removing his gloves and moving so he was standing at the head of the table. He stroked her hair back from her damp forehead, kissing her head softly. 

“Kurt… can you get me the mirror? So I can see what they’re doing?”

Kurt shared a look with Patterson and Tasha. “Ok Jane…” he said before moving off to the shared bathroom to grab it. He put it on the stand, moving it so Jane could see her abdomen. 

“Ready?” Jane asked. 

After a moment's hesitation, both Patterson and Tasha replied. 

“Ready.” they said before moving to their required positions. 

“Ok you’re going to want to remove the bandage... and then clean the area and numb it with lidocaine.”

“Ok ok…” Patterson replied, putting on a pair of gloves and gently peeling off the bandage. 

“Slowly… slowly.” Jane said softly. 

The moment the bandage was off, blood started to run down Jane’s side again, soaking the sheet underneath. Patterson grabbed some gauze off of Tasha and placed it on the wound. When Jane cried out in pain she loosened her hold, only to have Jane’s hand press down on top of her own. Jane cried out in pain, but through determination and sheer stubbornness, she didn’t pass out again. 

Tasha prepped the iodine and lidocaine, passing them one after another to Patterson. With the wound numbed and disinfected they were ready. 

“Come on Jane… don’t give up now…” Kurt said softly, seeing she was on the brink of passing out again. Jane blinked heavily in response. It was getting harder and harder to stay awake. 

“Ok… now’s the fun part…” Jane breathed, her voice laced with pain. 

“Where we call the hospital and take you in?” Patterson asked, almost hopefully.

Jane offered her a small reassuring smile. “You can do this.”

Patterson tried to smile back, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Was this the last conversation she would ever have with her friend? What if she killed her?

“Ok… first, you’re going to want to make a small cut - about an inch long, on either side of the wound - so you can see what you’re doing.” Jane instructed.  

“Ok… yeah… no big deal.” Patterson muttered, but grabbed the scalpel all the same. She made the first incision. “Ok, one more.” she continued, making the incision on the opposite side. “Is that enough? Please tell me that’s enough!”

“It’s enough.” Jane said, nodding weakly. “Ok now you’re going to need to use the retractor to open the wound, so you can see what you’re doing.” she said, straining so she could see in the mirror. 

Tasha handed the retractor to Patterson. She placed it in the wound, spreading it open. Blood began to rise from within, spilling out and running down Jane’s abdomen causing Jane cried out in discomfort. 

“It’s ok baby. Just keep breathing.” Kurt murmured softly. He stroked her hair, trying to offer her as much comfort as he could. It was killing him to see her this way. But he needed to remain strong for her. She was trying to be brave and if he broke down, he knew she would lose her reserve. 

Jane took a sharp breath in through her nose, trying to quell her torment with sheer brainpower. 

“Now take the clamp and find the bullet.” she croaked huskily. 

Patterson took the clamp off of Tasha. Staring at it as if it was a snake. “Cool cool cool cool cool.” she muttered. She swallowed heavily before pushing the clamp inside Jane’s abdomen. “Ok… I think I can feel it.” she said, slowly pulling the bullet to the surface. 

“Nice and steady…” Jane breathed. 

Just as she got the bullet to the entrance, the clamp slipped. Jane let out a cry, turning her head into Kurt’s neck to try and hide her agony. 

Patterson stared at her in horror, eyes wide in apology. “Sorry!” she said desperately. This was by far the craziest thing she had ever done… she just wanted it to be over. 

Jane managed to compose herself, enough to look Patterson in the eye. “It’s ok…” she said bravely.  “Try again.”

“Ok… lots of blood… Tasha can you flush it for me?” Patterson asked. Tasha responded, immediately flushing saline onto the wound to try and clear the blood. “Ok… hold this.” Patterson said, indicating for Tasha to hold the retractor open. 

She reinserted the clamp, searching gently for the bullet again. 

“Ok… I’ve got it.”

“Slowly…” Jane instructed, though there was a pleading tone to her voice. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take. She could feel herself going into hypovolemic shock. Her vision was greying around the edges and she was cold… so so cold. 

Jane watched through the mirror as Patterson successfully removed the bullet from inside of her. She couldn’t help the gasp of relief from escaping. 

“We have a lot of blood here!” Patterson said again, pressing down on her wound. 

“You’re going to need to check what kind of damage there is.” Jane slurred. She was finding it harder to get words out. “How’s that blood coming along?” she added, starting to feel a bit desperate. 

Patterson shared a look with Tasha. If Rich didn’t get back soon… 

“Ok I’m going in.” Patterson said, trying to evade Jane’s earlier question. “Lots of blood…” she stuck her finger inside the wound, feeling around. “I can’t feel any damage though… I think we’re good.” she breathed a sigh of relief. 

Jane’s breathing hitched, her body losing the battle. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and her head lolled to the side as unconsciousness swept up to claim her. 

“Jane…” Kurt gasped. 

“Jane! Stay with us!” Tasha cried, trying to rouse her. “Screw it… prep me for a transfusion.”

“I’m here!” Rich shouted, running into the room. 

“What took you so long!” Patterson scolded. 

“What took me so long?” Rich asked incredulously. “To get human blood?” He opened the chiller, pulling the transfusion out and hanging it on the hook. “Oh… that’s so much worse than I thought it was gonna be.” he cringed, looking at her wound. 

“Jane…” Kurt said again, brushing her face gently. She didn’t respond. She wasn’t even reacting to the pain anymore. “Jane?” he asked, moving his hand from his face to her neck. “Oh fuck!” he shouted, moving around the table and starting compressions of her chest. “Get that blood hooked up!” he cried. 

Tasha scrambled around to where Rich had hung the bag, connecting it to her IV. 

“I’m gonna pack the wound.” Patterson cried, knowing if they had any chance at bringing Jane literally back from the dead, that they had to stop the bleeding. She wouldn’t be able to stitch her up with Kurt performing CPR. 

They ran the transfusion through as quickly as they safely could, needing to get her blood volume back up. 

“Don’t leave me… not after everything!” Kurt panted, the effort of performing compressions taxing his strength. “Come on!” he shouted. 

The others watched on helplessly, all sharing looks of despair. Were they really about to lose another member of their team? 

Tasha moved to the head of the table, putting her fingers on Jane’s neck. “Weller… stop for a second.” 

He ceased compressions as instructed, Tasha checking her pulse. She shook her head, eyes wide in fear.  “Nothing.”

“No!” Kurt cried, starting compressions again. Sweat poured off of him, but he didn’t care. He was only concerned with getting his wife’s heart beating again. He was NOT going to lose her. 

“Start an IV in her other hand and push the Ringer’s. Our only hope is to get as much fluid into her as possible.” Patterson ordered. Tasha did as asked, running the Ringer's solution wide open. 

After a few agonising moments, Jane started gasping for breath, her facing contorting in agony. 

“Jane!” Kurt cupped her chin. “Please open your eyes baby.” he begged, choking down tears. Jane’s eyes fluttered, but she couldn’t muster the strength to actually open them. She grimaced, soft whimpers of pain escaping her throat. Kurt stroked her hair back. “Sshhh it’s ok… you just rest.”

Within seconds Jane was unconscious again. An eerie silence fell over the team as they all watched her chest rise and fall. 

“I never want to do that again.” Rich piped up first. “Nope. Never. Again.” With that he left the room, muttering under his breath. 

Patterson blew out a lungful of air. “We should.. ah… I should stitch her up.” she said. She could feel the adrenaline of the last hour starting to wear off. She needed to get Jane stitched up before she became a quivering mess on the floor. 

Tasha wordlessly came around to assist, Kurt taking place at Jane’s head again. He placed his hand on her heart, needing the reassurance that it was beating. 

They finished suturing her wound quickly, Patterson covering it with a fresh, thick bandage, before she pulled her gloves off. 

“I need a minute.” she stated, before walking away. “Yell if you need me.” she called over her shoulder, then disappeared. 

“I’ll give you some space.” Tasha said quietly. She knew Kurt needed a moment to come to terms with what had nearly happened. She felt shaky and jittery from the ordeal, so she could only guess how he was feeling. 

He pulled a seat over, sitting beside her and taking her hand, mindful of the IV. 

“Well fuck…” he breathed. How many times did he have to watch her nearly die? That was the third time he had had to perform CPR on her in the time he had known her. 

He pulled down the collar of her shirt, exposing her chest. He could already see the bruises starting to blossom. He was pretty sure he had broken a couple of ribs in his effort to get her back. She was going to be darn sore the next time she woke up. 

He sat there quietly, keeping vigil over his sleeping wife. Her heart had only stopped beating for a short while before he started compressions, but he was still worried at the lack of oxygen to her brain...

He shook his head. He wasn’t going to worry about the ‘ifs’, he needed to focus on right now. 

0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°

It had been a few hours since the surgery and Jane’s vitals were remaining strong. She had gained a little colour back in her cheeks, but she still looked deathly ill. 

The rest of the team had taken it in turns to check on them both - once they had managed to calm themselves down a little. Kurt hadn’t left her side once. Patterson administered some morphine, once she was confident that Jane’s blood pressure wasn’t going to plummet again. 

“I’m going to move her to our room.” Kurt said the next time Patterson showed up in the doorway. “She will be warmer and more comfortable.”

Patterson nodded in agreement, offering to help him with the IV stands. 

Kurt picked Jane up carefully, holding her as tightly to his chest as he could. Slowly he made his way to their room, Patterson following with the stands. He lay her gently on the bed, trying his best not to jostle her injury. 

Patterson set up the IV stands at the head of the bunk, before leaving them alone again. 

It was over an hour later, when Jane started shifting on the bed. 

“Jane...” Kurt said gently. 

Jane cracked her eyelids open, blinking softly. 

“Kurt?” she whispered. She tried to take a deeper breath, only to fall short, her chest too sore to expand properly. “Wha-?”

“Ssshhh… just relax.” Kurt said softly, moving so he was in her field of vision. “Your heart stopped after Patterson got the bullet out.” Kurt explained. “I’m sorry… I think I broke a couple of ribs doing compressions.”

“It’s ok.” Jane whispered. “I’m sorry.” she said quietly. She knew how hard that must have been for her to watch. 

“How are you feeling?” Kurt asked. 

“Tired.” she mumbled, her eyes falling closed again. 

Kurt smiled softly, gently stroking her hair from her forehead. 

“Get some rest baby. I’ll be right here.” 

Jane let out a small sound of acknowledgement, before drifting back off into a healing sleep. 

 ‘She is going to be sore tomorrow!’ Kurt thought, wincing sympathetically. But at least there was going to be a tomorrow. It had taken all of them to save her life. And he would be forever grateful to his family. 

Now all they had to do was find Ivy and get their lives back. Jane, however, would be sitting this next mission out. He needed her to rest and recover. He needed to keep her safe and hidden. 

He reached out and tucked the thick woollen blanket under her chin, before kissing her softly on the eyelid. 

“Sweet dreams baby.” he said softly. “Thank you for not dying.” He leaned back in his chair, hoping that that would be the last time he ever had to perform CPR on his wife. 

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 28

Chapter title: Two Unlikely Loves

A/n: Im sorry chapters have been shorter and they've been so bad im so so sorry im trying and im messing up and im just trying and im sorry for the awfulness that is this chapter. anyway here you go

First | Previous | Next

words: 2031

summary: Tensions run high as the courthouse is under siege

pairings: Eventual logicality, prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, hospital, crime scene,  murder, gun mention, guns, swearing, abuse, graphic descriptions, alcohol, shooting, crying

Ao3 Link  

They all rushed in, practically tripping over one another.

“Patton!” They cry, all in different tones of utter concern. Not Logan however, he bides his time, avoiding eye contact as everyone gives their hearty hellos and tearful reliefs. “Why don't we give them some time?” He hears Barbara whisper, the group nods and somehow he's left alone in the awkward silence of an unusually quiet Patton. Realizing he hadn't said a word to anyone who had come in. 

“Lo” he begins, Logan hears his voice finally and he understands what he feels. Anger, he wishes not to speak to Patton. Not now, not ever. “Logan” Patton tries again, the man can hear the softest break in his sweet tone. What was he thinking? How dare he ignore Patton. 

He coughs, breaking his own silence but that's it. He will not make the first move, he should have been trusted. Why didn't he..”trust me?” He hadnt meant to let the words fall, he hadn't given them such permission. 

“Oh starlight”

Damn Patton was good, he almost took to look at him. He continues to stare around the room, it felt bland, unlike his gorgeous eyes who he could find himself lost in. He listens, the shifting and sudden grunts of struggle catches him off guard. He turns, finding Patton's feet trembling as he clutches desperately to his IV line as he barely steps forward. Logan can see the pain and he finds himself completely in motion.

“Patton” He chides, rushing over he takes the shaking arms, situating the stubborn lawyer back on the edge of the bed. Kneeling in front of him with a deep breath of relief. “Do you enjoy bringing pain” Logan jokes, but finds no ease in Patton's face. The tears swell and he shakes his sorry head. “Oh sunshine” He sighs

“I'm so sorry” Patton laments, Logan, though slight, shakes his apology away. He leans up, taking the man's cheek, kissing him softly as they melt into one. God how he missed him. Patton deepend said kiss, not that either mind one bit. 

“If you ever..” Logan begins, gasping for short breaths, his blush quite noticeable “Do that again..” Patton nods, understanding instantly. 

“Not planning too...at least not this year” He shrugs, Logan nudges him, squeezing his leg sweetly. “C’mere” He gestures, they connect once more, it's soft and feels light in this heavy world. Once away, they allow their fingers to fiddle together, the puzzle just fits. It was their puzzle, years to find all the corner pieces but now it was their turn to fill in the middle. A quick gasp escapes Patton, he pushes gently on Logan. “The twins!” He exclaims, was it some kind of sense?

“Papa!” They cry in unison, rushing into the room barreling through Logan. Both decide to speak the fastest they can muster, speeding through their weeks and adventures. Patton listens intently, his eyes hazing to a prideful Logan. He wasn't sure what came over him but the overwhelming feeling of simply breaking down was noticeable. Not to the twins, nor Emile….but Logan saw it instantly. 

“Hey, why don't you both venture to the shops with Emile and pick out a nice gift for your father” Logan suggests, Patton trembles as he waves them a careful goodbye not sure how much longer he can hold up. Once the door shuts Logan works quick as Patton shatters. Seeing the twins was the breaking point, his head pounds. Logan helps the quiet man and his tears back into bed, once settled he cuddles Patton, a comforting rub to his harms and Patton clutches hard. Logan can feel the wet soak him but he doesn't care, nothing but Patton concerns him.  

“I'm so sorry” He sniffles, barely audible through his almost fearful sobs. As if any louder and he could get in serious trouble...Logan's heart sunk. He pushes the image of Liam out of his mind kissing Patton's forehead. This was their room, area and moment. Nobody dare touch the ever fragile bubble. Ready to collapse, become delicate glass to fall.  It takes awhile but the exhaustion sets in and Patton falls into it, releasing Logan before he does, giving him the freedom not to bear him down. Logan sighs sitting up, he checks the clock realizing he himself may have dozed off as well. The best sleep he had gotten in a month, though guilty he was so thankful for Patton being here, awake. 

“Mm” He rubs his eyes, the bags becoming prominent under them. He doesn't flinch feeling Patton wrap his arms around Logan, laying his head on the lawyer's shoulder. A sweet kiss to his neck, a tingle he had missed sent down his back. 

“You're exhausted” Patton identifies, connecting their hands. Logan scoffs, a smile with a tinge of truth however. “I'm here, you can rest Lo” Patton promises, soothing comfort down Logan's arm and cheek. Logan bites down, clenching his jaw so tight it begins to pulse. He avoids anything that will reflect his delicate state. Logan takes Patton's hand, kissing it but he isn't there. His mind floods with schedules and routines, meals and things he must do, children cries and joy.

And he loves it. 

Yes he's drained, but all he can think of is the conversation he had with Patton eons ago. Thats how he felt, these children could take everything from him. Sleep, food, anything and hed smile with delight.  

“I'd like to move in” Logan proposes, Patton chuckles into his shoulder. A tired smile accompanied with a nod. Logan takes this as his moment to convince, quickly preparing an argument but Patton has his own idea.

“And here I thought you already had” Patton laments, Logan yawns but hes amused. Something about the way he felt with Patton allowed him to enjoy it. Allowed him to just relax, always helps that Patton had taken to massaging Logan without a prompt. But out the window there he was, he knew Patton felt it, his shoulders tightened. “Dearest?” Patton hums, kissing him gently. 

“We need to talk about Virgil” 

~~~

“I want to see my little boy” Patton sings, Remy chuckles as Emile brings Thomas forth. Cradling the baby in Patton's arms.

“Here he comes” Emile teases, Patton giggles, joined by the baby soon enough. 

“Oh my here he does, look at this angel” Patton coos, tickling ever so carefully his stomach, the both allowing themselves a moment with each other. The sweetness the child radiates is almost too much for Patton's weak heart.  Soon enough everyone cycled in for their reunion. Logan stood protective by Patton the entire time, a hand on his shoulder and love infecting him. Patton was grateful. 

The twins were impatient and they had every right to be, spending almost three hours with their father and Logan simply chatting away. Patton loved it,he loved cuddling Valerie while Remus explained his journeys, he loved Remus fiddling with his hair as Valerie recounted their days with Logan. And most of all he loved Logan. He loved that he got to share this with someone, someone who cared someone who he loved and who loved him back. 

Soon enough the room darkened and Roman, after a copious check up and a thorough conversation volunteered to take them home for some rest. 

“You are truly my hero” Patton teases, knowing that title was held by only one person. One person who was currently making sure the children were bundled up before they said their goodbyes. Roman gave him one last squeeze before leading them out followed by James who waves the door closed. 

“You look exhausted” Logan notices, fluffing up Patton's pillow, making sure the lawyer remains cozy and comfortable. Patton takes his cheeks as he leans in and plants a quick kiss on him. He pulls away, getting prepared to take his sleep, Logan smiles timidly planting a kiss on his head before finally releasing his overbearing care. Not that Patton minds. Logan sets up in the chair next to him, turning the night light on and flipping quietly through a book. 

It remains peaceful and still for awhile, Logan almost dozes off with his blanket sprawled around him. But as the clock strikes eleven thirty, the door slides open. And of course panic sets in, why were the doctors here and so late at night? But when the gruff boots and purple jacket reflected on the light, Logans panic set in even more.

“Virgil” Logan identifies in a whisper, the detective meets his eyes. The bags are prominent. But his boiling hatred was fiery. “He's sleeping” Logan scolds, folding up his blanket and putting the book on the shelf. “Where were you all day?” Logan goes, quickly back tracking. “Actually no, I don't care” 

“Lo be nice” Patton mumbles through his pillow, the pair jump and Logan joins his side quickly. He wipes his eyes sitting up, allowing Logan to serve him water, taking it gratefully. Virgil wants to come forward, his head pulsed as his eyes laid on Patton. He missed him so much, but Logans glare stopped him. “Thank you starlight” Patton put his glass back, and Virgil adored the casualness of their physical connection, the nicknames and the fact that Logans and Pattons hands were connected. But he hated that he couldn't enjoy this right now. “Heya Virge” Patton swallows, something forced down. 

“Pat..” Virgil breathes, he wants to gush but something holds him back. Patton bit his lower lip, he extended his arms, motioning for Virgil to come forth. The breath that escaped Virgil lifted the pressure from his chest. 

“Patton no” Logan reminds, he doesn't mean to be controlling but he cares for Patton more than he can describe.

“Logan come on” Virgil sighs. Patton clutches his blankets knowing hes only doing this out of confrontation and his fear of such. But with what Logan told him...shouldn't he be mad?

He was

He was painfully hurt

“What did you tell him?” Virgil points as Patton refocuses. 

“The honest truth and what I found Patton should know” Logan explains. Patton takes his hand, feeling the sweat build. Logan takes the signal and finds himself breathing with relaxation. “You took the money, you and Remy took the money” He lays out flat. “When Patton came to you about Liam you should have done something” Logan spits “Instead, like everyone else in that goddamn precinct you took Liams vile money and kept your mouth shut” Logan reveals, Virgil averts  his guilty eyes. Patton twinges, clasping tighter to Logan. 

“Patton let me just..I…” Virgil feels something clamp tight in his throat. He has an explanation but nothing worth Patton's forgiveness. “You said you h-had a plan and you were gonna leave i thought, its just a little longer and Damian and I-”

“Virgil are you fucking kidding?” Logans voice remains quiet but it seethes, Patton struggles but sits up pulling Logan closer to him. 

“Dearest, language” He whispers sweetly, wiping the sweat away from Logans hot head. “Its ok, I'm okay and you're okay and the twins and Damian and virge...everyones ok” Patton rambles, Logan softens at the soft breaths he takes. Idiot, he punishes. Patton was tired, he was shaking ever so slightly. 

“Im so sorry Pat, I should go” And he does, Virgil gives him one more apologetic look before slamming the door away. Patton releases an exasperated breath before falling back into his pillow. How many times was he going to cry today?

“Love?” Logan sits with him, Patton cant conjure up words he simply shakes his head, the tears flow. Logan adjusts so he cradles Patton, a gentle lullaby his hummed to him as he remembers every time a touch had never felt so loving, and filled with pain instead. “I love you so very much” He promises, he was so glad Patton took that from him. 

I dont think Id want to give that to anyone else

Soon enough, the pair was comfortably asleep, both with dreams...or nightmares of their own. But together, and surely they wouldn't let the other be hurt, not again, not ever again.   

[maviemesregles]

Once I was an Eagle

Angst is around the corner, brace yourself.

Anne @eclecticstarlightconnoisseur​, thanks once again  💜

X

Read on AO3

A/N: ghràdhach aon - dear one M'eudail - my treasure

Chapter I: The beginnings

Chapter II: Sassenach

Chapter III: Catharsis

Chapter IV: Lovestruck. Part I

Chapter V: Lovestruck. Part II

Chapter VI: Flecks of Sun

Chapter VII: Mince pies & baubles

Chapter VIII: Home

                                  Chapter IX: Once upon a dream

Claire's face was pale and her forehead clammy. Despite her telling Jamie that she was "totally fine," did nothing to reassure him. He dismissed her weak attempts to convince him that she was okay and carried her through A&E doors. Before he could ask for help, Joe Abernathy appeared in front of him like some sort of a wizard from Harry Potter.

“James?” Joe queried while scanning Claire’s limp figure in his arms, he pointed towards the stretcher. “Put her down there. What happened?”

Carefully lowering her down, Jamie felt he was finally able to breathe for the first since he found Claire crouched on the floor in their bathroom.

“I found her, pale as a sheet of white paper, laying on the bathroom floor.”  Nervously Jamie ran his hand through his hair.

“Alright, don’t worry,” Joe patted Jamie on the shoulder, “It doesn’t look like an emergency since our Lady Jane can swear and protest.”

And that was true. Claire who was now pushed on the stretcher down the hall cursed, demanded them to let her go all while threatening to vomit if they continue bouncing her.

Doctor Abernathy turned to Jamie examining his face. The thin line of sweat glistened on his forehead as he nervously kept fidgeting his hands.

“Right, my lad. You need to calm down,” Joe waved his hand, summoning a young nurse that observed the scene earlier. “Katy, please, bring this gentleman to my office.”

Joe smirked at Jamie, lowering his voice. “There’s a bit of whisky in the first drawer. Please, help yourself. And don’t worry, I’m going to check on Claire and not let her out of my sight.”

* * *

I exhaled happily feeling the steady surface of the bed under me, instead of moving nightmare called a stretcher. The escalating desire to vomit had passed and now only slight nausea kept lingering in the pit of my stomach. The door opened and blonde nurse I’ve never seen before casually strolled to my bed, her trainers shuffled over the linoleum.

“How are you feeling, Dr. Beauchamp?” Flora as her name badge said, smiled at me, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm.

“Like I was run over by a bloody train” I grunted, closing my eyes. It felt as if ages passed before she finally scribbled down my blood pressure along with pulse and respiratory rate.

When Joe stepped in I was a prisoner to the IV fluids and the blasted pole, it was hanging on. He got the same answer that I had given the nurse before.  “It’s that sushi, Joe. And you know what? It’s entirely your fault. I should have chosen something else for lunch.”

“Is there any chance you might be pregnant, Claire?” Joe looked at me tentatively. I almost choked on the glass of water. For whatever reason, I felt a deep flush creep up my neck, all the way to my cheeks.

“I...No,” Shaking my head, I put the glass aside. “No, it’s not possible.”

Joe raised his eyebrows, clearly showing that I didn’t sound convincing enough.

“I can’t be pregnant. I’m on the pill.”

It was one evening a few months ago when on the way home I made a stop at the pharmacy. I found Jamie in the bathroom, loading the washing machine. He asked “What’s this?” when I casually placed a pink pillbox on the shelf. Jamie never pressured me with anything. And that time as he brushed his lips over my temple he said I did not need to take them. I shushed him, catching his lower lip between mine and confessed that I wanted this. I wanted him.

“Well, we’ll make the test anyway, just to make sure. Pills do fail sometimes” Joe squeezed my hand gently.

* * *

The cold, sickening feeling crawled up from my stomach and took residency in my throat. I could not breathe, feeling the tears snake down my cheeks.

"Repeat what you just said,” I whispered as Frank turned around, hands bracing the windowsill. I  could see the muscles under his shirt tighten and his hands curled into fists.

“I said, how can we ever be a proper family if my wife cannot give me a child?”

My heart hammered in my chest, replacing a painful lump with awakening anger.

“Are you saying it is all my fault? How can you be so sure it’s not you, Frank?”

“Sassenach?” Jamie’s hand rested on my knee startling me out of vague memory. “Are ye alright?”

I nodded, staring at a piece of paper with the HCG test in my hands.

“Weel, will ye tell me, Claire?” Jamie turned right, parking the car on the side of the road. He turned to me, those blue eyes staring deep into my soul. My palms were damp as I reached for his hand. My heart was beating frantically in my ribcage, I only managed to open and close my mouth, with no sound coming out. I was shaking.

“Claire, fer God’s sake, please tell me.” He leaned closer, the early morning sun dyeing his hair in rich amber. “Ye scared the hell out of me tonight. What is it? Are ye sick?”

“I’m pregnant.”

The universe had stopped then. Everything suspended around us and the only thing I could hear is my heart thumping in my chest. I wasn’t sure if my vision blurred or Jamie was really crying until he pressed me closer, my body melting into his. I could feel his wet cheek under my lips and I realised I was crying too. I kissed his face until his ragged breathing stopped and he took me by the shoulders, looking at me as if I wasn’t real. I did not see him cry before. He hadn’t said a word and fear started creeping up, crawling into the tiniest, fragile corners of my being.

“Jamie,” my whisper raspy “Are you happy?” He leaned down then, to lay his head on my perfectly flat stomach.

“I never thought I could be happier. But you’ve just made me so, Sassenach.”

I thought I had forgotten how to breathe, my mind swimming in a cocktail of emotions.

“I’m going to be a Da .” He smiled, thumb smoothing the rumpled jumper fabric at my belly.

He asked me if I was happy. I said I’ve never been this happy.

I was pregnant. Days later when my mind learned to live with the thought that there was a part of Jamie inside me, a new spark of life he and I created, I started realising. How could I not notice it? During the last few weeks, I’ve been so terribly tired. I dismissed it, thinking it’s all because of the stress. Our hunting for a flat, moving, trying to settle in. Adso running away and my busyness at work. I did not pay attention when captured under Jamie’s body I mewled a sound of protest. His hand froze hovering over my breasts that became too sensitive. It’s just a precursor of my upcoming period I thought. Jamie laughed at me when curled up together on the sofa, I suddenly broke down crying after seeing a commercial on TV with little puppies in it. I never gave too much attention to dizziness that was coming back to me each morning for the last two weeks. Feeling awful nausea creeping in, I cursed at the contraceptives and bent over the white toilet surface. Telling myself I had to change them to different ones because these were definitely messing up with my hormones. So when my uterus decided to riot I was sure this pink pillbox was the reason for my late courses. I just could not be pregnant.

The morning we came back from the hospital I closed myself in the bathroom, tearing off the packaging from a home pregnancy test I’ve kept just in case. I had to be sure. I cried and sat on the bathroom floor when ClearBlue stick confirmed those eight letters that formed Pregnant. When Jamie knocked softly on the door I was a hot mess. He kneeled down, reaching for my hand where a promise of a future froze between my fingers. “Don’t” I protested, as he gently kissed the back of my hand. “My hands are all in pee.” I sniffed, but he only laughed, saying he didn’t care. “Sassenach, I will change diapers for our bairn, I dinna care about yer pee.” Jamie pulled me to his chest, keeping me so impossibly close, I thought I’d drown in him. Nose buried into his woolly sweater tightening my grip on him, I whispered. “We’re going to have a baby.”

“Aye,” He nodded, brushing away a loose curl on my cheek. There was something in his eyes, the very colour of them changed, as he looked down at me. “I’ve already thought of names for the wee one.” Jamie fished his phone from the pocket, shining the screen on me. “Scottish baby names” stood there and I dissolved into uncontrollable sobbing. He laughed softly, cradling my face in his hands, thumb smoothing the tears away. I had to laugh myself when my nose conjured up a snotty bubble and I saw a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Red-faced, racoon-mascara circles under the swollen, bloodshot eyes. “Oh, Claire, ye do break my heart with loving ye” He whispered kissing my mouth.

I stood in the locker room, topless, in my scrub pants, fidgeting the strap of my bra. Turning sideways the mirror reflected my bare, still flat, seven weeks stomach. The door swung open, Geillis storming in. Smiling from ear to ear she almost knocked the breath out of me, as her arms wrapped around my neck. “Oh, how much I wished ye’d never cried because of that arsehole Frank! I told ye it’s him!” She kissed me on the cheek patting my front. “Jamie lad did not waste time. I’m so happy for ye, ghràdhach aon. For both of ye.” Then she demanded that I have to make her godmother or our friendship will be at stake. From then on Geillis decided that she was my patron and no day has passed by without her endless care for me. I was thankful but most of the times rather annoyed at her hovering as a bee over me. My friend decided it’s her duty to make sure I had enough fresh air so every coffee break we spent outside. My lunch was under her steadfast gaze. I wasn’t allowed to eat my beloved beef burgers anymore and was replaced with green smoothies. “Christ, it’s full of vitamins and such, yer burger is full of fat.” I also was relieved of coffee but kindly handed herbal teas as a replacement.

But what Geillis didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Little did she know that at two in the morning Jamie, voice still groggy with sleep, pulls his jeans on as I wake him up. He cursed stubbing his toe in the darkness, promising to bring me a Big Mac. He laughed at me while I sniffed into my phone calling to tell him of my latest craving for a Cinnabon.

Jamie had his ways of making sure that I and "our wee bairn" stayed healthy and safe. On Sunday as I plodded down the hallway to start usual weekly tidying up, he had snatched a mop and solution for the floors from my hands. “Ye dinna ken it’s bad for ye to breath all these chemicals?” He declared, nudging me towards the couch. I said that I’m pregnant, not disabled but Jamie shot me a look that I obediently laid on the couch in the company of Adso.

One night I thought my heart would burst with tenderness for this man. Putting my book aside I turned to Jamie, elbow supporting my head. He scrolled through something on his phone, and I noticed that sexy crease between his eyebrows making my stomach turn into a warm pool. I scooted closer to him, hand running up and down his bare torso. He hummed “hhmmm” as my lips planted a kiss over his ribcage. When my hand suggestively ran along the waistband of his jogging pants he did not show the usual interest. I sat up, leg-crossed in front of him, securing my curls into a top knot.

“Is there something more fascinating than this?” I smiled cheekily at him, pulling one strap of my nightgown down the shoulder. He gave me a quick glance, eyes glued back to his iPhone.

“Ye ken that our bairn is the size of green olive,” He brought up his hand, folding his fingers to show me. “About one inch long”.

“What?” I lifted my brow as I leaned to grab his phone. My heart was on the edge of breaking into a million pieces with love for Jamie. It was an app on his phone, with information week by week about the baby. “Where did you get it from?” My voice shook just a bit as I fiercely fought an upcoming wave of pregnancy-hormonal tears. His hand reached my stomach, he drew me closer, giving it a soft kiss. “Weel, I googled it.” I whispered that I loved him covering his body with mine.

From that point on it became a nighttime tradition when Jamie would read to me every week the size of our baby, what developments had happened over time. As we were sitting one evening in front of the TV, watching the British Bake Off, I almost dozed off. Jamie’s hands were busy working out all the knots in my aching feet when he suggested something that made me awake instantly.

“I guess I should get rid off that engine ye hate so much, Claire.” I raised my eyebrows at him in curiosity. “What so suddenly changed your mind?” I asked scratching Adso who seemed to be fascinated by my condition. My cat found my stomach the perfect place for his naps and never left my side as soon as I entered our home. I was thinking it’s very cute unless he was just jealous of the new addition to the family. My body turned into melted wax when Jamie’s thumb pushed on that nagging spot on my foot. “I thought we should think about that storage room, my Da could help with a makeover. For the wee one,” Jamie explained, gently patting my ankle. I thought there wasn’t anything else my pregnant hormonal self would cry about but there I was again. Snotty and clinging to Jamie, saying that he’s a bloody bastard who made me turn into a hysterical creature.

Jamie’s reminder of uni days was taken away to Broch Mordha. Day by day our storage room turned into something that started resemble a nursery. Watching Jamie and Brian paint the little bedroom gave my heart fluttering sensation as I leaned against the doorframe. I haven’t admitted to Jamie yet that him being a dad made my toes curl and my heart race a marathon. I still could not believe it was happening with me. My life seemed to be unreal and the fact that I was going to be a mother was something out of this universe.

Jamie tucked a curl behind my ear, as I embraced my dear friend in the shape of the toilet almost every morning. I was hitting the milestone of twelve weeks and felt like bloated, nauseated, sensitive all over penguin. I huffed and puffed with my high waisted jeans that did not want to close over the growing baby bump. Finally, sweaty and red-cheeked, I sat on the edge of the bed, jeans dangling around my knees. When Jamie found me I felt defeated by rough denim fabric, laying on the bed like a fat sea cat. Pulling the jeans down my legs and fishing out my black leggings from the depth of the wardrobe, he kneeled down, taking one of my feet helping me to dress. I said that I am not a child and don’t need to be dressed. Jamie just ignored my hateful remark and suggested that we buy some maternity clothes for me. As he lent me the laptop “There, Sassenach, order what ye like,” I felt as an awful, hateful human being. His cheek was warm and smoothly shaved under my palm. “I’m sorry. I’m being horrid to you.” I whispered kissing the corner of his mouth. He smiled reassuring me it’s okay.

Though I looked rather as if I gained some weight around the middle rather than pregnant, Jamie had a habit of talking to my stomach each night. One of those I got particularly teary-eyed when he laid his head over my bare skin, my fingers running through the silk of his curls. All day I fought with waves of nausea mixed with heartburn that tried to take over my body. Jamie’s thumb placed tender caresses over the swell of my belly. “Ye should let yer mum rest, a leannan.” He whispered softly as his lips brushed at my skin. “Yer such a gift, m'eudail.” When that first tear broke free my hands drew him closer. Fingers smoothing his marble-carved back, he swallowed my quiet confession with his lips. “I need you, Jamie.”

His mouth sealed over the peak of my breast, as my hand traveled down his navel. He stopped then suddenly, looking up at me. “Claire, are ye sure? I…” The tips of his ears turned scarlet red while he tried to find the right words. “I wouldna wish for the bairn to be bounced around.” I laughed then. With that hearty laugh that was only for Jamie. Leaning to kiss his upper lip, I smiled, covering his hand with mine that laid on my stomach. “She won’t notice, I promise.”

Our lovemaking took a totally different meaning since the day Jamie and I learned there is a new life our love created. Jamie’s gentle awareness of “little olive” inside my womb as his body moved atop of mine, the way that small swell of my belly was sheltered between us.

One morning as I went through the post and bills while Jamie poured hot water into the two cups of Earl Grey I hesitated but asked him anyway. The last couple of days he’s been unusually quiet. He sat down, facing me on the other side of the table, fingers circling the cup rim. After long minutes of silence, he finally confessed.

“What if I am a bad father?”

Voice quivered with nervousness and worry Jamie said that if he can’t manage a cat (the time Adso ran away) how could he even manage a brand new human being? I stood up, circling him from behind. Nose buried in his soft curls, I pressed a kiss to his hair. “You’ll be the best dad in the world. Do you know how I know it?” He shook his head as my hips took residency on his lap. “It’s how much you love your nieces and nephews. The way you worry about Jenny and Ian. Your commitment to calling Brian every day, making sure you two talk enough.” My hands wrapped around his neck. “It’s the way you take care of me, Jamie. Of us.” His palm splayed atop my stomach and then he smiled.

It was true. Jamie has taken such good care of me like no one before. He decided it was his mission to learn everything about our pregnancy and he lived with his Iphone glued to his hand. Jamie googled how to get rid of nausea and was brewing a potion like a magician every evening. It was ginger tea with a tinge of lemon. Simple enough but it always calmed the wave of nausea that visited me frequently. Jamie made sure I stayed hydrated, downloading an app on my phone to remind me about my water intake. He never protested (only internally) when I had a particular night time craving for strawberries or Nandos. Even when I was a fierce, angry future mum tired from endless night visits to the bathroom, morning vomiting and all-time fatigue, Jamie never complained. He managed to soothe me every time his arms wrapped around me. “Yer just tired, Claire.” His forehead leaned against mine. “Ye may be angry and frustrated, ye may even be furious with me for no reason.” He laughed softly. “But yer carrying my child and for that alone I owe ye my life.”

After a doctor's appointment when we heard the heartbeat of our baby for the first time it suddenly felt so real. Walking hand in hand along the busy Edinburgh streets I watched Jamie’s face. It was as someone spilled a bucket of happiness infused paint all over him. He grinned like a Chesire cat and kept debating with me over the baby names. “Ye canna name a lass Mary or… Or Kate!” I rolled my eyes at him as Jamie opened a door for me. “Oh, neither do you get to call the baby Morag! Over my dead body, James Fraser.” I hissed, stepping into a store with handmade baby furniture. He mumbled something about great Scottish Gaelic names but I only waved my hand at him, noticing gorgeous white baby crib.

“Dinna listen to him,” Jenny smiled, handing me a pastel pink onesie. “Men rarely understand anything when it comes to names. Ian would gladly call all our bairns with the names from Lord of the Rings.”  I laughed setting the presents she brought next to the baby crib that now was a perfect fit inside the nursery. It was the only thing we’d bought so far, besides Jenny’s kind clothing gifts. We still had a lot of time for purchasing baby things. Jamie’s sister also shoved prenatal vitamins in my hands, the extras she had from her last pregnancy. Adso decided it is his toy. For the last week my cat slept only in a crib with my vitamins securely between his furry paws.

I hummed appreciative “mmm” as Jamie’s warm palm soothed my aching lower back. “Are ye sure ye’ll be alright, Sassenach?” Jamie ran his thumb on the bridge of my nose. “I’ll be just fine.” Cupping the back of his neck, I leaned in t0 kiss the reddish stubble on his jaw. “If I need you, I’ll call.” He nodded but worry swam at the bottom of azure ocean as he looked down. “I need ye and the bairn to be safe and healthy.” Turning my back to spoon him, his hand laid on my waist, face pressed at my nape I smiled into the pillow. “We are.”

Next day Jamie headed off to Glasgow to open up a new brewery with his uncles while I myself awaited three surgeries at work. At the end of a carotid endarterectomy I felt an awful backache but had no chance to sit down for longer than five minutes in between starting with the other patient. Thinking that I probably should reschedule my working time another hour has passed. I wanted to call Jamie on my lunch break but as my feet walked towards the cafeteria suddenly my body folded in two. I groaned, hand braced on the wall. Claws-digging, cramping pain shot in my lower belly. Feeling faint I noticed Geillis’s ginger head as she grabbed me by the arms. “Claire, what on earth is happening?” Her eyes traveled down my body, mouth frozen with whatever she wanted to say. There was a bloody spot on my scrub pants, growing like spilled wine glass.

It's funny the things you remember - like spilled coffee making a stain on my coat, chilly November morning and memory of hot whisper sending goosebumps down my skin, "I love you" said in an agony and fear of losing him, losing us. Or the vase that Jamie had bought me and it found its place on the top shelf in my bedroom.

“Geil, what… what is happening? ” My voice shook. So small and fragile, not my own.

I knew well enough what was going on. But my foolish, tender heart hoped that it's not true. That Geillis will smile and tell me it’s nothing, nothing serious. I saw her green eyes swell with tears as my own closed. I’ve never seen her cry before.

* * *

“Ye bloody Scottish bastard! Pick up, Jamie.” Geillis’s voice rolled as thunder inside hospital walls but cold, robotic one kept repeating “The number your dial is out of range. Please, try again.”

[cdelphiki]

Hello! Could you do "I'm not leaving you here!" with Tim and Damian? Can't wait to see what all you do!

There was no time.  

Normally, Tim could form half a dozen plans, and then five more for every outcome of the first six whenever anything happened to them.  But this time—there wasn’t time.  

They had really gotten themselves into quite a pickle.

Well…

Damian had gotten them into said pickle.  

He was too brash sometimes.

Maybe if he stoped to think more often, Tim would have more time to think now.  

But instead, he found himself collapsed on the floor, trying his best to hold all his insides in where they belonged, while Damian subtly panicked by his side, similarly applying pressure to the massive gash in Tim’s abdomen.  

It’d been a lucky hit, honestly.  Tim had been distracted by trying to disarm the moron with the gun and wrongfully assumed Damian was handling the idiot with the knife.  He hadn’t been.  And that guy managed to slash out at Tim and get him, right in the side.  

At least Damian took him out immediately after.  What he’d been doing before Tim nearly lost more of his organs, he isn’t sure.  But at least he pulled through in the end…

Now, though.  Now they were royally screwed.  

They were in a room, deep inside the compound they’d infiltrated, essentially trapped.  There were two unconscious guys handcuffed to the radiator pipes, and about three hundred more outside.  

Looking for them.  

Tim could hear gunfire down the hall.  The periodic bang bang of a trained gunman, walking through rooms, and shooting at whatever he saw.  It was setting Tim on edge, because he knew they were looking for them. 

And Tim couldn’t walk.

He could do nothing to defend Robin.  To defend himself.  He’d just be a passive observer to Robin’s death.

“Robin,” he wheezed, causing Damian to look up from his wound, the whites of his lenses not revealing anything the boy was feeling, “Go.”  

There was nothing Tim could do.  He wouldn’t be able to follow Damian.  Wouldn’t be able to even make it out of this room, much less follow the complicated path they’d taken to get in this far.  And Damian most certainly couldn’t carry him.  Sure, he was strong, but Tim weighed more than him, and at this point he’d be pretty much dead weight.

“What?” he demanded, “and what, you’ll just cartwheel your way out behind me?  Don’t be ridiculous.”  

After pushing himself into a sitting position, Tim tried to shove Damian away from him, but all he succeeded in doing was groaning as his side protested at the movement.

“Drake,” Damian snapped, “do not be stupid.  You are in danger of bleeding out if we don’t staunch the blood.”  

“You,” Tim said, his breathing labored as he tried to get his body to obey him, tried to keep his strength in check, “need to leave.” 

Instead of respond, Damian pushed Tim back down into a laying position and started rifling through his pockets.  He pulled out an emergency suture kit, and Tim just reached out and grabbed his hand.  

The gunshots were getting closer, and each double tap filled Tim with more dread.  Because if they entered this room, there was absolutely nothing he could do.  He’d be helpless, just laying here.  As he calculated, he only had a few more minutes of consciousness before the blood loss got him, and then not much longer beyond of actual…. Aliveness.  And Damian would likely get himself shot trying to defend Tim, and he did not want his last minutes on this earth to be crying over the death of Robin.  

No thank you.

He’d much rather Robin leave and get away.  Go find help, maybe. It didn’t really matter what he did, as long as he had a chance.  

“No.  There isn’t time.  You have to get out of here.”  

Damian scowled and pushed Tim’s hand away from the wound, after he’d threaded the needle and stuck a flashlight in his own mouth, to point directly at the wound.  

Tim grimaced as the needle went into his skin, then clenched his teeth so hard he thought he might crack the crown in there when Damian pulled it through.  

“Damian,” he plead, between stitches, “Please.  You have to go.”

“No,” Damian snapped, pausing just long enough to hold the flashlight so he could talk, “I am not leaving you.  So shut up.” 

The gunfire paused for a moment, and Damian took it as an opportunity to get three more stitches in, each one making Tim suppress a groan.  Because, damn, Damian was not being gentle. 

“Sorry,” Damian mumbled, around the flashlight, “we’ll have to redo…”

“If you don’t get leave,” Tim whispered, just as the gunfire started up again, now more constant than before, “they’re gonna catch us.  The sutures won’t matter.”  

Scowling harder, Damian picked up the speed and put four more stitches in before finally cutting the thread.  He spat the flashlight off onto the ground and snapped, “Do you want to die?”

“I want you to not die,” Tim replied, echoing Damian’s tone.  

“Right,” he said, aggressively ripping open a clean pack of gauze before he placed it over the fresh stitches and started wrapping Tim’s entire abdomen, “Great.  I live, you die.  Just how everyone would want it, right?  Is that what you think?”

The next gunshot happened not even 30 feet away, outside the locked door they were hiding behind.  It made Damian jump, just slightly, before his scowl deepened. 

Tim closed his eyes and put a hand to his forehead. “You bought us time,” he mumbled, trying to think through the haze that had started to set in, “You can get away and go get help. Then come back for me.”  

“I’m not leaving you,” he whispered harshly.

“We don’t have much of a choice,” he shot back, succeeded this time at sitting himself up, Damian now done wrapping the wound.  It was still bleeding, ever so slightly, but it wasn’t a danger of bleeding out anytime soon.  

Kill him with infection? Sure. But that required he lived long enough for it to get infected. Either he’d be shot in about 64 seconds, or they’d escape and Alfred would fix it.  

He was kind of counting on the getting shot option.  

Damian looked around frantically and locked eyes on a pipe, laying on the ground among a pile of random repair pieces.  He grabbed it, then tip toed to the door, positioning himself just beside it, waiting for their hunter to bust in the door. 

“Damian,” Tim pleaded, whispering as loudly as he dared with someone just outside. 

“Shut up, Tim,” Damian whispered back.  

Just a second later, the door knob jiggled, and Tim sucked in a breath.  Damian gripped the pipe tighter and lifted it high, ready to bring it down on the head of whoever broke in.  

A gunshot went off, blasting the lock into a dozen tiny pieces, and then the door was kicked open, faster than a strike of lightning.  

Tim was unable to suppress the pained cry he made when he jumped, possibly tearing one of the already shitty stitches.  

At the same time, Damian swung the pipe and connected solidly with the helmet of their hunter, causing a crack to form right at the crown of it.  

“The fuck,” Jason cursed, snatching the pipe from a stunned Damian and throwing it across the room, away from both Tim and the unconscious thugs, “Watch where you’re swinging shit, brat.  You’re lucky I wear a helmet, unlike you dumbasses.”

“Hood,” Damian sighed, the relief in his voice so palpable, it made even Jason freeze.  

“Yeah, kid,” he said, awkwardly patting Damian on the head, “I’m here.”

“Was that you shooting?” Tim asked, pausing in the middle to take a breath.  His side was hurting about fifty times more, now.  With the definitely popped stitch.  

“Uh huh.”  Jason crossed the room in three long strides and knelt beside Tim.  Damian retrieved his pipe and took up position by the door, but considering how relaxed Jason was acting, Tim doubted there were anymore men outside to post threats to them.

He just hoped Jason hadn’t killed everyone in the building…

“Heard you two were infiltrating this place tonight.  You should have talked to me first, I’ve been watching this operation for months.  You were woefully unprepared.”

“Yeah,” Tim laughed, moving his hands so Jason could look at the quickly bleeding through bandages, “Figured that out.”  

“Seriously, you brats taking on an entire gang’s main operation?  By yourself?  Idiots.”  

“Tt,” Damian huffed, “We were fine until Red got himself stabbed.”

“It was your guy,” Tim protested, “Your guy stabbed me.”  

“And then he wanted me to abandon him to die,” Damian continued, completely ignoring Tim. 

Jason added another layer of gauze to the wrap, then pat Tim on the shoulder.  “I know teaming up with the demon is difficult,” he said, slipping one arm behind Tim’s back and the other under his knees, “but really, there are much better ways to be rid of him than dying. Trust me.  Been there.  Done that.  0/10 would not do again.”  

“Shut up,” Tim whined, trying his best not to cry a little as Jason jostled him.  He wrapped one arm around Jason’s neck and closed his eyes tight.  “I didn’t know you were the idiot shooting everyone.”  

“Yes,” Damian drawled, falling in step just before Jason as they began making their way out of the compound, “I was not aware you were in Gotham tonight.”  

“This idiot just saved your hide, you ungrateful little brats.  And I lied about going on a mission.  I wanted a break.  But nooooooo, you morons had to go on a suicide mission instead.”  

“Tt.  It was not-”

“Red is actively dying,” Jason interrupted, “So zip it.”  

Surprisingly, Damian did zip it.  And he kept it zipped, at least as long as Tim could remember.  Because he did eventually fall asleep, lulled there by the gentle swaying motion caused by Jason’s gait.  If Jay tried to wake him, it didn’t work, and in retrospect, Tim was glad for that.

Because the next thing he knew, he was waking up in the Batcave, his torso properly cleaned and sewn up, an IV in his hand, delivering what Tim was sure to be heavy antibiotics to stave off whatever infection the crappy field suturing probably caused.  

When he looked around, he was mildly surprised to find no Bruce sitting at his side.  Usually Bruce was all over these sorts of things.  His guilt complex awesome at making him be comforting after nearly dying.  

Honestly, there was nothing like a ‘I’m glad you didn’t die, Tim,’ hug from Bruce.  

But Bruce wasn’t there. Instead, Damian was sitting in the chair, his legs thrown up over the side as he watched something on his tablet, completely oblivious to the world.  

“Where’s Bruce?” Tim croaked, then paused to clear his throat, because wow.  He hadn’t used his voice in a while, had he?  “How long was I out?”

Damian looked at his watch and said, almost uninterested, “About 17 hours.  Pennyworth made Father go to bed a couple hours ago.”

Tim wanted to ask Damian why he was there, then, but he had the feeling doing so would just make Damian leave. And Tim didn’t really want to be alone.  He always hated being alone, trapped in the medbay in the cave.  It was dark and spooky down there, honestly.  When alone and unable to work on anything.  The screeching of the bats was just creepy.  Sometimes.  

So instead, he asked, “What are you watching?” as he sat his bed up some.  

“A documentary series I found on youtube.  It’s about royal families in Europe and how they’re all related.”  

“Uh,” Tim said, scrunching his eyebrows, “That’s interesting.”  

“Hardly,” Damian dismissed, waving a hand at Tim, as if asking him to stop talking.  

And maybe being alone down here wouldn’t be so bad, after all.  “What are you doing down here?” 

Annoyance flickered on Damian’s face before he clicked the tablet off and stood.  “If you ever,” he said darkly, taking the few steps to Tim’s bedside to point a finger at him, “ever ask me to leave you to die again, I’ll…” 

Damian paused, and narrowed his eyes.  Tim couldn’t help it, he had to ask, “You’ll what?  Kill me?”

“Tt,” Damian huffed, scowling now, “Obviously not.  That would be counterproductive.”

“Then what?”

“I’ll tell on you,” Damian decided, nodding to himself.  

“You’ll tell on me? What are we, five?” 

“Yes. I’ll tell Father and Grayson about your recklessness and—”

“I wasn’t being reckless,” Tim said, “Your guy stabbed me. Not! Reckless!”  

“Whatever,” Damian said, rolling his eyes, “Just don’t do it again.” 

Tim wanted to keep arguing. He wanted to tell Damian there was nothing he could threaten Tim with to make him value his own life above that of a literal child’s, especially when that child was kind of technically his little brother. But instead he could see the underlying anxiety forcing this entire encounter, so he couldn’t help himself saying, “Aww, you were worried about me.”  

And instead of snap back and deny it, as Tim was expecting, Damian just scowled harder and said, “Of course I was. You were trying make me let you die.”  

“Damian,” he sighed, rubbing at his face with his free hand. He was honestly so exhausted.  Which was weird, sleeping 17 hours and all. “I was just trying to save you.”  

“We’re family,” Damian said slowly, looking away from Tim as he did and crossing his arms, “I can’t….”

“Damian,” Tim interrupted, reaching out and latching onto Damian’s sleeve.

“Tim.  Don’t ask me to do that again.”  

All Tim could do was nod.  Because he was afraid if he tried to say anything, he might just cry.  Or say something stupid and ruin the entire moment.  

But Damian spoke up, holding his tablet up for Tim to see. “I have movies on this.”  

With a smile, Tim scooted over the best he could and let Damian climb up next to him. About an hour into The Incredibles, when Damian’s eyes keep drooping more and more with ever blink, and Tim was just about as close to falling back asleep, Tim whispered, “Sorry.”  

And when Damian just nodded and leaned his head against Tim’s shoulder to fully fall asleep, he took it as forgiveness.  

[haddonfieldproject]

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.2.21 HALLOWEEN NIGHT/NOVEMBER 1st AROUND SUNRISE

Haddonfield, Illinois

Rosalita craned her neck to see the time. There was no clock in the supply closet, no light now to see a clock if there was one, the power had gone off shortly after Sheriff Brackett had left her here. When that lightning hit, she thought. She knew the lightning had something to do with it. The Sheriff's daughter, who lay in a hospital bed that took up virtually all of the room in the storage closet, had an IV hooked up to her arm. On the pole that held the IV was a little box with all sorts of buttons and blinking lights and gauges of a sort. Rosalita of course, had no idea what it all meant or was for, but the box had a little display screen that cast a soft blue-green glow inside the closet, and gave her the only light she had. On the bottom right corner of the box was the time. ‪05:46‬. Next to the time was a battery symbol, it was red and flashing...just like the same kind of symbol on the box on Rosalita's IV had been as well before it died about thirty minutes ago and went dark.

This one is gonna die too and soon I'll be in the dark, she thought to herself in her native Spanish, looking down at her newborn baby which she cradled in her arms. The Sheriff had left her, the baby, and his unconscious daughter more than an hour and a half ago. He said he was going to see “just what the hell was going on”. A part of her hoped he'd gone ahead and found it out—or was going to find it out soon— so she could get out of this god-forsaken closet. Another part of her hoped he didn't.

She knew what was going on.

When they had heard the gunshot, she had known right away it had come from Ole' Bitch.

The only thing Sparky Warner may have loved more than his shotgun was draining the cans of Coors Light he used to shoot with it...certainly not Rosalita. He abused his wife almost as much as he had abused the cans. At least when he was done with Rosalita he just rolled ahead on over and went to sleep, but with the cans, he liked to line them up on a log in the back yard and either take pot-shots at them with his .22 or sometimes, if he was in the real mood for some fun, he'd obliterate them with 'Ole Bitch'.

“I named it after your mama,” he had told her once as he pulled it from the back of his work van.

Rosalita knew who the shotgun blast was for too.

Whitey Grey had done a bang-up job on the new roof of the Warner home last year. Sparky had been real appreciative too, and knowing Whitey to be a stand-up guy, and having felt sorry for him because he had been on the outs with his high-school sweetheart, he had been all too willing to give Whitey some odd jobs here and there around the Warner castle in exchange for some cash from time to time.

“Chelsea Keane has always been a fucking bitch, ever since high school” Sparky had belched, crushing an empty beer can in his hand and tossing it off the front porch. “I'm surprised you stayed with her this long.”

Whitey had looked into the hole of the can of his own beer. “I've always loved her man. Ever since we were in six grade. I've always felt she was the one for me.” He had taken a swig. “You know, like my soul mate.”

Sparky had fished a cigarette out of his mouth and laughed, punching his friend in the arm. “You gotta be kidding me with that pussy shit.” He had said, putting a flame to the end of his smoke. “Naw man...you stay here with me. Make that bitch feel what it's like to miss you.”

“You think so?” Whitey had asked.

“Fuck yeah. Besides, I got tons of shit around here you can do in exchange for crashing on the couch.” Sparky had replied, the cigarette bouncing in his mouth.

“Your old lady won't mind?” Sparky had asked.

“Who do you think wears the pants around here motherfucker?” Sparky had exhaled a plume of smoke. “You see,” he had said, pointing the cigarette at his friend. “That's your problem. You always let that bitch run you over. You think I ever let my woman boss me around?”

Whitey changed the subject, “What do you want done around here?” He had asked.

“You're a handy motherfucker...lots of shit.” Sparky had smiled. “These gutters haven't been cleaned a month of Sundays. I've been meaning to pressure wash this driveway. I got siding on the side that's fucked up and could use replacing...and shit...that well in the back has been compromised by about three autumn's worth of leaves.”

Whitey had shrugged and taken another swig of beer. “That sounds cool.”

“Yeah!” Sparky had taken another drag, “And you know...odd job shit. Like bring the salt pellets in from time to time. That shit's heavy and God knows my old lady can't do it.”

They had laughed together at this. Rosalita had watched and listened to this conversation out of the window while she was doing the dishes. She remembered it well because moments after her husband had berated her to his best friend, she had sliced her finger on a steak knife under the soapy water. It had left a small car on the inside of her left index finger.

Rosalita felt that place in the darkness now, thinking.

Yes, Whitey had done a real good job around the house.

After all, Sparky was real busy. His little electric company hadn't taken off the ground as well as he had liked, and he found himself a corporation of one, working seven days a week, twelve hour days.

Anyone with half a brain would have known how this was gonna play out.

One of Sparky's job's on a ‪Tuesday morning‬ had re-scheduled. Rosalita had never found out why. Sparky had come home ‪at ten o'clock‬ in the morning to find Whitey Grey in his underwear making pancakes for Rosalita, who was also in her underwear...well...at least from the waist down. If it wasn't for a well-timed right hook by Whitey and an even better timed smack with the pancake skillet by Rosalita...Whitey and Rosalita would have probably gotten a taste of “Ole Bitch” right then.

Rosalita and Whitey had gotten a room at the Extended Day down in Russellville for awhile, after six months they snuck back into Haddonfield, renting a little apartment two blocks from the Bypass near Orange Grove. By then, Rosalita was sporting a little belly that everyone in town knew wasn't Sparky's doing, and word of mouth travels fast in a little Midwestern town.

So far though Sparky hadn't caused any trouble. Hadn't even called.

That didn't stop Rosalita from knowing that the shotgun blast had come from “Ole Bitch”. She knew it as well as she knew that the sun was gonna come up over Little Egypt ‪tomorrow morning‬ from the east and set over the corn fields and hills to the west ‪tomorrow evening‬. She knew it deep down in the marrow of her bones and the bottom of her soul and had now fought for the last hour and a half to shake the image of Whitey Grey, the father of her newborn baby, laying dead somewhere in the hospital with his brains splattered all around.

And Sparky was now coming for her.

Her and her baby.

Can't think about that now, Rosalita thought, looking down at her newborn baby boy. The Sheriff said he'd figure out what was going on, and he'll figure it out.

Sheriff Brackett had been the top deputy dog in the town as long as Rosalita could remember. If pressed she would say that she had always trusted him, and she would just plain have to trust him now.

The display screen on the Sheriff's daughter went dark. Rosalita couldn't see her hand in front of her face...let alone her baby.

Oh please God. She thought. Let somebody find me in here.

And then she caught herself.

Anybody but Sparky.

NEXT>>

[doctordiscord123]

Whumptober Day 30: Recovery

A sequel to this one here!

Bim get rescued, but the damage done to his subconscious is worse than the egos first realize.

Tag List: @demon-dark-666 @devon-rever-860 @yeemo-pilots @bender-of-life

Warnings: Conditioning, Murder, long af Characters: Bim Trimmer, Wilford Warfstache, Dr. Iplier, the King of the Squirrels Pairings: Bim Trimmer/The King of the Squirrels

Bim hummed happily, curling tight in his wooden cage around his stuffed toy. He’d been a good boy, and he’d gotten a new toy because of it. A soft puppy plushie. Bim hadn’t put it down since he’d been given it that afternoon.

Bim made a sound almost like a purr as he burrowed into the soft dog bed, much more forgiving than just lying on the wooden floor of the dog cage. Another past reward. He like his rewards. He liked being a good boy. And when he shifted his gaze to stare lovingly at his sleeping Owner in their bed, it was so hard to believe that he’d once fought against them so hard.

His Master (his Owner’s father) had gotten nicer, too. Before Bim had realized it was so much easier to obey, his Master had been...cruel, to say the least. But now, he was the one who liked to spoil Bim, buy him his rewards, sneak him treats off his own plate, to the point where Bim had gotten into the habit of curling up on the floor beside him every morning for breakfast, hoping for a treat. His Master liked to pet Bim, too, he liked to rake his fingers through his hair, and Bim loved it, leaning into the gentle touches with soft, happy sounds.

His Mistress...the mother...she still scared him. She hadn’t been happy when Bim finally broke under their harsh treatment. She still analyzed every aspect of his behavior, searching for wrongdoing, and when she found even the most minuscule of things, she was quick to punish. Bim had been napping peacefully in the fluffy dog bed by the couch, and he’d woken up tied down in the basement, his Mistress’ whip biting into his back, because he’d apparently been talking in his sleep. He wasn’t allowed to talk. He’d made a noise that had -- according to her -- sounded too much like a ‘thank you’ when he’d been given his plushie, and she’d tried to take it away, but his Owner wouldn’t let her. Bim loved them all the more for it.

Bim purred again, burying his face against his plushie, and the little bell on his collar rang. He didn’t mind. He was happy. He was a good boy. A good pet.

And then he blinked.

One moment, there was nothing, and then Bim blinked, there was a faint popping sound like...like popping bubblegum, and in the next, there was a man, standing in the room. Bim stifled his scream, eyes impossibly wide as he struggled to see the man without his glasses. He could see pink. He watched as the man spun in a circle, watched as he stiffened when he spotted Bim’s cage. Bim froze, pressing himself as far back as he could he manage. Something Bim couldn’t quite see crossed the man’s features, and then he was turning to Bim’s Owner in the bed.

The next thing Bim knew, the man was whipping out a revolver and shooting his Owner point-blank between the eyes just as they were beginning to stir.

Bim screamed.

And then the man was unlocking the cage door and crouching down. Bim pressed himself against the back wall, face buried between his knees and clutching his plushie desperately. He shook, and tried not to cry, but he couldn’t help the hot tears that made their way down his face.

“...Bim? Is that you?”

Bim’s head shot up, curling slightly into a tighter ball. The man was staring at him. Now that he was closer, Bim could make out more of his face, particularly his bright pink mustache. Bim hadn’t been called that name for so long...he’d almost forgotten it...

He stiffened, breath hitching, when the man reached inside, laying a hand on his leg. He looked...scared. “My God...what have they done to you?” Bim didn’t move, didn’t reply. The man’s hand was warm. It was...nice. “Bim, please...do...do you remember me? It’s Wilford.”

Something snapped back into place in Bim’s head, and more tears flowed down his face as he nodded shakily. Wilford split in a relieved grin, and withdrew his hand. Bim crawled out of the cage, and -- after a moment of hesitation -- right into Wilford’s lap, clinging to him desperately in a crushing hug as he shook. He sobbed harder, burying his face in the crook of Wilford’s neck. He still smelled like cotton candy and gunpowder. It was so achingly familiar, and Bim never wanted to lose it again.

Wilford’s hands settled on Bim’s hips, squeezing them, and he rambled as they hugged. “Oh my God, it’s you, it’s really you, we finally found you, God Bim, we’ve been searching for months, but-but-but you’d just vanished, a-a-and something happened to your magic, not even the Host could get a lock on you, and -- shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay, it’s okay now, I --”

His hands shifted up, wrapping his arms more firmly around him, and Bim cried out, going completely stiff in Wilford’s arms as the bell on his collar chimed. Wilford froze, and slowly pried Bim off his lap, turning him around. He gasped, and Bim choked, squeezing his plushie tight, as Wilford ghosted a finger over the dozens of laceration scars and newer wounds. “Oh...Bim...”

Bim could feel the shift in Wilford, and he flinched, curling up. It was just like when his Mistress discovered he did something wrong. He didn’t want to be hurt. Wilford loved him, why was he angry, Bim could be good, he was a good boy, he didn’t want to hurt --

So deep in his own head, Bim didn’t notice Wilford undoing the collar until the bell chimed and Bim felt the absence of the familiar pressure. Almost instantly, he felt like he could breathe better, and the result was a harsh coughing fit that left him with watering eyes and his forehead pressed to the floor, breath wheezing. He made a small sound when he felt Wilford pick him up, holding him close to his chest. “Come on, Bim. I’m going to take you home. King’s dying to see you again.”

Again, another piece slotted back into place in Bim’s mind at that name. King. The King of the Squirrels. His boyfriend, his sweet, caring, most likely worried sick boyfriend. And Bim broke down again, clinging to Wilford’s shirt and squeezing his eyes shut as Wilford carried him through whatever dimension he used to get around.

“Dark! Dr. Iplier! I found him, he’s --”

“What?! Where is he, let me see hi -- oh my God! Quick, get him up to my office -- King! Host, get up here! Bim --”

The next few days passed in a blur. Bim mainly stayed in Dr. Iplier’s office as he and the Host tended to his wounds. Dr. Iplier had questioned the deep, white abrasion scars on his throat, but Bim had just shrugged and mumbled something about not liking his collar at first. Dr. Iplier and the Host had both paled, but said nothing more about it. All the while, King had adamantly refused to leave his side, pressing kisses to every part of his face he could get to and sobbing out endless ‘I love you’s -- at first. Bim quickly got overwhelmed, unused to the attention, unused to the chaos of the manor, unused to everything but pain and being treated like a dog. Dr. Iplier kicked King out, but he still snuck back in often, if only just to hold his hand. 

About a week into his...rescue...Dr. Iplier had deemed it okay to try and reintroduce Bim to the others at breakfast. King had walked him down the stairs, steadying him when he stumbled or tripped -- Bim wasn’t exactly used to walking upright anymore. When they’d arrived, Dr. Iplier and King had slipped into their designated spots, and -- running on pure habit -- Bim had curled up on the floor by the head of the table, where his Master usually sat, hoping for treats as usual. He hardly recognized the fact that it was Wilford, not his Master, that sat in the chair, and he just waited for the anticipated pets and his bowl of food to be placed in front of him.

“Bim...what are you doing?”

Bim blinked up at King, who was staring at him with nothing but concern. The blank, glazed look slowly faded from Bim’s eyes, instead replaced by fear. “I...” He glanced at Wilford, who smiled softly at him, then got unsteadily to his feet. He slid uncertainly into the empty chair between King and Eric, blinking owlishly as the others stared at him, silent. He flinched wildly when Silver reached past him to set a plate of pancakes and bacon down in front of him. Bim simply stared at the food as the others began to eat. He...wasn’t sure how to, anymore. But when he saw the others pick up the bacon with their hands, he tentatively did the same, biting into it.

When the rest of his plate was gone in ten seconds, he’d been forced to reveal that the only thing he’d been fed for the past nine months he’d been missing was dog food.

And then he promptly threw up his breakfast all over the kitchen floor, his stomach unused to proper food after so long.

Dr. Iplier had whisked him away back up to his office as Google cleaned up the mess, setting up an IV with the proper nutrients to get Bim’s body back to normal. All the while, Bim sobbed and panicked, rambling on that he was sorry, that he was a good boy, that he didn’t mean to make a mess, please don’t hurt him --

Bim eventually passed out, emotions running high, stress higher, and he’s slept for two days.

They didn’t try a proper meal again for another month, slowly getting Bim’s body used to the idea of real food again. Bim was getting better. His body wasn’t as thin and sickly. He flinched less. He could walk again, properly, without help. He was talking easier, the fear of being dragged away with every word he spoke slowly fading away. He still felt...odd, wearing clothes after nine months going without. His own clothes hurt his back too much. Too pressed, too scratchy, too...formal. But King’s t-shirts were big, and soft, and they smelled like King, and Bim could manage those. It was kind of funny...Bim’s shirts used to be big on King.

They were heading to dinner, hand in hand, and Bim murmuring softly in response to King’s chatter. They slid into their seats, and Bim jolted in place like was going to get on the floor, but he stopped himself, squeezing King’s hand instead, and King pecked him on the cheek. Google had made dinner. Apparently, it had been Bim’s favorite before he’d been captured. Homemade cheeseburgers, as rare as possible, and just the smell alone had Bim’s mouth watering. He could hardly wait for the others to get theirs, digging in the second he was allowed, and the second the borderline raw meat touched his tongue, his pupils were blowing wide, and he’d later be told that he devoured his food in seconds before tearing out the door.

Dark had to spend a week covering up the mess Bim made as he left half-eaten bodies and bloody, gory trails scattered across the city, in a complete feeding frenzy rampage after he’d been left to starve for months.

But...Bim was getting better. He could sleep with King in his bed without falling to the urge to sleep on the floor instead. He liked being home. He liked eating real food, he liked snuggling with King, he liked being warm. He liked being safe. He...he liked the humanity he was slowly gaining back.

But...

Bim rolled over in King’s arms, making sure he was asleep. King was snoring softly, mouth open, and drooling all over his pillow. Bim smiled, brushing King’s hair from his eyes, before slipping out of his arms, and leaving King’s room, hurrying to his own. He slipped a hand under the pillow of his bed, pulling out the little puppy plushie his Master had give him. He squeezed it, burying his face in it’s soft synthetic fur. It still smelled like his Owner, like his Master, and tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

He missed home, too.

[darkwoods-darkdreams]

Imagine you’ve been captured by a witch (IV)

You got up from the bed without thinking. You stood before him, fighting the spell he had put you under. A second child. No. Even the one was too many. You didn’t want to give in to him. You wanted to defy him and refuse to provide what he wanted. But the ache worsened. You swallowed thickly, legs quivering as you stared at him.

He looked up at you, waiting for you to act. But you kept still, despite your growing desire to climb into his lap. But he shifted, impatient with your lack of progress. You made the mistake of glancing down to his hips. You couldn’t take it anymore. You straddled him, your hands moving to his shoulders. You kissed him feverishly. His left hand tangled in your hair, the other pulling your hips against his. You squirmed, quiet gasps escaping you. Your hands drifted down his chest, reaching for his belt. But he grabbed your wrist and pulled your hands away. When you withdrew and looked at him, he smirked, “What do you want? Tell me.”

“You,” Your voice was quiet and hoarse, “Please,” You couldn’t believe the words you were saying. Your mind was fogged by the spell. This wasn’t you. It wasn’t what you wanted.

“Well, if you’re begging for it, then it would be cruel of me to refuse,” He reached down, unfastening his belt and moving his clothes just enough to free himself. Heat rose from your chest to your ears in embarrassment and arousal. He lifted your dress, guiding your hips until he prodded against your entrance. You quivered, grip tightening on his shoulders to try and keep yourself grounded. You lowered yourself onto him, whimpering as he inched deeper and deeper into you. It was different when you weren’t so full. You could take more of him, skin pressed against his. You rolled your hips, biting your lip as shocks worked their way through your body. The spell had made you more sensitive, your breathing already ragged. When you took all of him, the small bump of the child inside of you pressed against the man’s body. The feeling only increased your fervor. You shifted in his lap, his hands on your sides to adjust your pace as he pleased. You kissed him, everything about him setting your soul on fire.

The spell began to fade. Your body was tense, so close to the end that you couldn’t bring down your pace. The man’s grip on you remained, though you could tell he was reaching his limit. Some of his hair hung in his face. His breathing was shaky as he muttered between kisses about how beautiful you were and how you were his. Your mind was beginning to clear, but your body was still desperate. You had to get off of him before he put another child inside of you. You were slowly regaining control of your body.

You pushed yourself away, only for his arms to wrap around your body. He pulled you flush against him, bucking his hips into yours as you struggled to get away from him. His thrusts were deep and slow, roughly moving against your form. You clawed at his shoulders, gasping as his teeth met your neck. He held you still, keeping himself as deep as he could. You felt the heat against your cervix. Your fighting slowed, then stopped as you tensed around him. There was no point. He had gotten what he wanted. He had won.

Something shifted in your stomach. You inhaled sharply as your womb swelled and belly rolled outward to accommodate the second child. You glanced down, but the man’s hand moved first. He lifted the skirt of your dress, admiring how much you had grown. He smoothed his palm over the skin, pleased with his work. You shivered at how cold his hand felt, but also out of fear for what had happened.

“I was right. That creature changed the way your body works,” He stood, lifting you with him, your legs around his waist. He was strong, carrying you to the bed while remaining inside of you. He placed you on the bed, removing himself from your body and readjusting his clothes.

You panted, staring up at him in worry. If he could add a second child, he could easily provide more. You winced, shutting your eyes and turning your head away as he stepped between your legs and rubbed your stomach.

“I’m impressed, darling. You’re perfect. I can’t wait to fill you up even more,” He purred, voice saccharine. He finally stepped away, “But I need to get some work done. You should rest.”

He left the room, but you remained with your legs hanging off of the bed. You couldn’t bring yourself to move at first. The realization that you were stuck with such a man had finally settled on your shoulders. You sat up, lifting your dress to look at your stomach. You sighed, wiping the tears from your eyes as you curled up in the bed and pulled the blankets around you.

He joined you in the bed later that night. You were facing away from the door when it opened, halfway unconscious as he moved behind you. His chest was against your back, an arm wrapped around your waist to settle on the bump of your stomach. You didn’t bother trying to move his hand away, knowing it would only anger him. He pressed a kiss to your neck, then rested his head on the pillow.

Living with him was easier than living with the witch, but you still wanted to run away and go home. He didn’t make you clean on your hands and knees or have you wear some dirty old dress. He had brought home several well-made dresses and requested you wear them. Considering that they were more comfortable than the witch’s dress, you complied. They were much smaller around the waist, however. The other dress would have concealed your pregnancy. The dresses you wore now made it obvious that you were with child, tight enough over your stomach that the bump was easily noticed. You knew that such a thing was what the man wanted. He wanted to see what he had done to you whenever he so much as glanced your way. He had bought other, larger dresses, but kept them stashed away until the time came when you needed them.

He left the house often to do business. He would tell you that he loved you before stealing a kiss and heading out the door. You stood, envious. You had tried to leave once when he was gone. The doorknob had shocked you, then grew hot as you tried to persist and open it. You let go before you burned yourself too badly, not wanting the man to notice.

When he was out of the house, you spent most of your time trying to find another way to escape. There had to be a way for you to reverse the glyph scorched into the wall. You had tried taking a knife to it in order to break the seal, but the symbols had glowed and your body grew weak until you collapsed and let go of the weapon.

He had gotten into the habit of repeating what he had done when you were still at the witch’s house. He would sneak into the room and surprise you by grabbing your hair while his other hand disappeared beneath your skirt. You fought against him every time, trying to pull his hands away and escape, but his grip was too tight. He kept you that way, rubbing and prodding until your knees grew weak and you were panting and leaning against him for support.

Other times, when his lust was running rampant, he would sit down in the kitchen and insist that you pleasure him with your mouth. You refused the first time, wanting nothing to do with him and his satisfaction. But he had threatened to put another child inside of you, so you sank to your knees in front of him. He kept a tight grip on your hair the entire time, tugging whenever you tried to slow down. By the end, your jaw ached and you were left with a bitter taste in your mouth. The second time he asked you to do such a thing and every time after that, you complied automatically. It was easier than the other option.

The bedroom door opened behind you, pulling you from your thoughts. When you had woken up, the man was gone, so you took the opportunity to sleep in. You finished putting on your dress, turning to look at him, “Welcome home,” It was an automatic reaction. He didn’t take kindly to you refusing to greet him. You played the part of the loving wife, just to keep him from getting angry.

But something was different about him. He didn’t smile and kiss you. He approached, pushing you onto the bed without a word. You didn’t have the chance to ask him what he was doing or why he was upset. He pinned one of your wrists down, fumbling with his belt before forcing himself inside of you. You tried to push him away, but he held you down while delving deeper.

“Get off of me!” You protested, still trying to fight against him.

“Oh?” He smirked, “After you were begging for it the last time?” A particularly hard thrust made you cry out, as if proving his point, “You’ve still got such a long way to go, but I can’t help myself. My beautiful little wife, carrying my children~ But you’re nowhere close to full. I wanted to wait until you were a month from birth, just to watch you grow heavier with my children as I continued to fuck you repeatedly, but I’ve grown impatient. Just one more now won’t hurt. It’s been so long since I’ve been inside of you.”

He rolled his hips against yours, moving slowly until you were agitated and squirming underneath him for reasons other than fighting back. Your mouth hung open, panting heavily. You wanted the pressure to end, but his languid pace wasn’t enough. Your hips ached and your wrists were sore beneath his hands. You swore under your breath when he finally lost control, hard and fast. He leaned over more, the swell of your belly pressed against him. You gasped, back arching. But he didn’t stop. He wasn’t done. You whimpered, your body sensitive to his movements. He slowed, as if trying to prolong the experience. His hands wandered to your stomach, rubbing his hands over the fabric of your dress, which he lifted in order to touch your skin. You couldn’t move. Your arms were too heavy from your earlier fighting.

He grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. His grip moved to your thighs, pushing them back on either side of your stomach to let him thrust deeper. There was no possible way that his seed wouldn’t take. You shook your head, trying to convince him that two was enough, only to tense as he emptied himself within you. His hair hung in his face, the slight sheen of sweat on his collarbones. You immediately glanced to your stomach, fearful of what would happen.

At first, there was no chance except with the rise and fall of your breathing. But the man didn’t move. Even though you were in an uncomfortable position, he waited, keeping you still. Then, the pressure came. You tried to close your legs, but he kept himself buried between your thighs as your womb swelled to make room for the third child. There was more growth than the last time and the tension lasted longer. You knew that it was because the other two children had grown and the third was trying to catch up. You wanted to pull the skirt of your dress down to hide from his gaze, but you knew that the fabric would be too tight. His palm wandered over the bump. There would be no way for you to hide your pregnancy, even with a larger dress. The swell started above your navel now.

“Beautiful,” He grinned, leaning over to kiss you. You tried to turn away, tears stinging your eyes, but he grabbed your chin and turned your head so he could ensnare your lips with his, “I’ll never regret stealing you from that witch, my darling,” He pulled away, “I’ll make you something to eat. You’re eating for four, after all~”

You wilted upon hearing those words, wishing that you had never gotten involved with him or the witch. You knew that he wouldn’t end at three. No, his lust grew insatiable after a while. No amount of trying to please him with anything else would work. He would add to his progeny, force you to carry more children. You still had so long until the birth. You would be bigger than when the creature used you to carry its eggs.

No, he was nowhere near finished with you.

[freddiesaysalright]

Catching Up Part VI

A Joe Mazzello x Reader Story

Summary: Reader is a writer for an entertainment news network and after Joe comes in to do an interview, they reconnect. Unexpectedly, they’re having a child together.

Word Count: 3K

Tag List: @crazylittlethingcalledobsession  @jennyggggrrr, @somethinginthewayiam, @grandaddy-roger-trash, @rogerloveshiscar, @hopefully-aesthetically-pleasing, @danamaleksworld, @mrsmazzello, @reedusteinrambles, @rexorangecouny If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: SMUT in this chapter! I just give the people what they want ;)

Part I  Part II  Part III  Part IV  Part V

Part VI here we go!!!

You rested your head on Joe’s chest in the afterglow, more content than you had been in months. He dragged his fingers up and down your arm and it felt so nice you were sure you’d fall asleep in minutes. Only, Joe was wide awake and still excited about the baby.

“When’s the due date?” he asked.

“February 20th,” you said.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m cancelling everything. I’m gonna be here for you.”

You stirred, turning to look up at him. “Joe, you don’t have to do that. I don’t want to keep you from your job.”

“It’s not as important as you are,” he insisted.

You kissed his lips gratefully. “That’s very sweet. But the movie comes out in the US in November. After that is when I’ll need you most anyway.”

“Speaking of the premiere,” he said. “I want you to come with me.”

You sat up and moved away from him. “You know I can’t do that.”

He sat up too, taking your hand. “You can. I know you can.”

You shook your head. “No, Joey. The cameras.”

“We can work up to it,” he said. “You’re totally fine with face time now.”

“That’s different, I have control,” you reminded him. “And it’s not going out to the public.”

“Baby, I don’t want to be insensitive, but don’t you think it’s something you need to work through?” he asked. “I mean, after the baby comes, won’t you want family photos and all of that? Or do you expect to just have pictures of me and the baby?”

“I…” you trailed off. You hadn’t really considered that. “That’s also different. Those won’t be posted anywhere either.”

He sighed. “Do you want to get past your anxiety about cameras?”

“Of course I do, but putting pictures of me out there when people could match them to the ones Nick posted is terrifying,” you said.

“I just hate that you can’t live your life because of this,” he said, frustrated. “I wanna brag on my beautiful girl. I wanna show you off at that premiere with your baby bump.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “You do?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I love you and I wanna scream it from the top of a mountain. I can’t do that, so the next best thing is social media.”

“Even if we did work on it,” you said through a chuckle. “I can’t go to the premiere. It’s in Los Angeles. I won’t be able to fly.”

“Road trip,” he said simply.

You lay back down and rested against him, considering the work you would need to put into this. But when you thought about what would come of it - being able to attend events with Joe, getting family photos, etc - it seemed like it made sense. You looked at Joe’s face. It was clearly important to him that you attend. He had done so much for you, and was willing to support you to get you where you needed to be. He was worth facing your fear.

“Okay,” you said. “Let’s work on it.”

“Really?!” he gasped. “Y/N, thank you so much!”

He rolled on top of you and kissed you. Again, you already felt heat pooling in your stomach at his touch. You whimpered and shifted your hips up. He noticed.

“Damn, baby, it’s like that?” he teased.

“Don’t tease me, Joe,” you sighed.

His lips found your neck and he swiped his tongue across a sweet spot by your ear. Your hips jumped at the feeling, needing friction desperately.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “I’ve hardly even touched you.”

You whined. “Joe, I need you.”

He continued kissing your neck and his hand found your breast. He squeezed it and you moaned, arching your back into him. He trailed kisses from your neck to your collarbone, and across your sternum to the neglected breast. He took your hard nipple in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it and you saw stars.

“Fuck!” you cried. “Joe!”

“I love how sensitive you are, Y/N,” he murmured into your skin. “So hot and needy with my baby inside you.”

You hummed as he continued. You tried to grind on his thigh, just for something at your core, but he used his free hand to hold you down.

“Relax, baby,” he said. “I’m going to take care of you.”

He placed a hand on each breast now and his mouth went to your neck again. Your head fell back as his name escaped from your lips once more. He pinned your hips down with his own, and you could feel how hard he was getting. Soft sighs and gasps dropped from your mouth as he continued, and the spring inside you coiled tighter and tighter. You were on the edge just from him being on top of you. You pushed your heels into the mattress and gripped his arms tight, whining loud.

“Holy shit, are you gonna cum just from this?” he wondered.

You nodded, and once again, your hips jerked involuntarily. Your clit brushed his tip and with a strangled moan you finished, clenching around nothing, but trembling just the same.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “That’s so fucking sexy.”

You panted beneath him and he admired you for a moment. You skin was flushed and you looked absolutely fucked out already with your hair splayed around your head.

“Please, Joey,” you begged.

His hand snaked down your body, his finger brushing your throbbing clit. You bucked again as he started light circles around it.

“Please what, baby?” he asked.

“Fuck me!” you gasped as he added pressure with his finger before sliding it up and down your slit.

He removed his hand and you whined, but he quickly slid inside you. He released a deep breath as he bottomed out. You groaned and clung to him, chanting his name as he started pumping in and out of you. His pace was even and steady, and you were already nearing the edge again. He felt perfect inside you, especially without a condom. Just entirely him. His tip grazed your g-spot and your back arched.

“Right there!” you cried.

He grabbed your legs and put them over his shoulders to get a better angle and hit that spot with every thrust. He quickened his pace, snapping into you with soft grunts. His thumb returned to your clit and you thought you would explode.

“So good, baby,” you told him. “Feels so good. Gonna -”

You got cut off when you practically sobbed at his motion. You were writhing beneath him, lost completely in Joe. Your hands wandered over his body, raking over his chest and back. You just needed to feel his skin.

Another step up in pace and you were blinded by another orgasm. You pulsed around Joe as he rode you through it. Yours triggered his own and he spilled into you, thrusts slower and sloppier. You breathed heavily. Joe waited for you to stop shaking before he pulled out.

“I think you got another one in you, baby,” he whispered into you ear.

You shivered as he kissed from your mouth, down your chest and stomach, stopping at your aching heat. He pressed his tongue flat against your folds, and you jerked again, more sensitive than ever. He wrapped his arms around your thighs to keep them apart and still. He latched his lips onto your twitching clit and you cried his name, your hand jumping to his hair.

“Shit!” you hissed. “Joe!”

He lapped at you gently before plunging his tongue inside you. You squirmed and thrashed. You’d never been overstimulated like this before. It was almost painful, but it hurt so good. Your eyes slammed shut. The tension built again and you knew you weren’t going to last long like this. You were already clenching again as you approached your breaking point on Joe’s tongue.

A third orgasm rippled through you and you screamed. Tears leaked from your eyes and slid down your cheeks as Joe came up to join you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, wiping the tears away. “I hope it wasn’t too much.”

“It was incredible,” you said shakily.

He smiled. You lay there, panting together for a few moments.

“Joey,” you said. “Hold me, please.”

“You got it,” he said, and gathered you up in his arms.

You relaxed in his arms until your breathing evened out. You felt so good, you fell asleep there. Joe looked on you fondly as you slumbered with him. He imagined you in his arms a few months from now, swollen belly and all. Then a few years from now, with a child between you. He pictured how you would be as a family. Maybe you could have a few more as well. He watched you until his own eyelids grew heavy, picturing his life with you by his side for the rest of it. It was a lovely thing to fall asleep to.

When you woke up the next day, you heard Joe out in the living room, talking. The silent gaps between his phrases made you guess he was on the phone. You listened carefully, trying to make out who he was talking to, but you couldn’t. With a stretch, you got up. You were actually a little sore between your legs from the night before. You made a mental note to avoid letting Joe notice this in case he got a big head.

You padded out and saw that he was facetiming with someone, and he had headphones in. He glanced over when you opened the door and he beamed at you. His face was like a ray of sunshine and you waved at him. He beckoned you over, taking the headphones out of his ears and unplugging them from his phone. He was on with Rami. You sat beside him and leaned in to the shot. Rami was grinning.

“I just heard the big news,” he said sweetly. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you, Rami,” you replied, nuzzling in to Joe’s shoulder. “But you can’t tell anyone else. We can’t make a formal announcement for another three weeks.”

“Not even Lucy?” he asked.

“Not even Lucy,” you said.

“That’s gonna be tough,” he said. “But I think I can do it.”

“Thank you,” you said.

“So, boy or girl?” he wondered.

You rolled your eyes. “Men really have no idea how this works, do they?”

“We’re just excited, baby!” Joe said, laughing. He turned to Rami. “We won’t know until twenty weeks.”

“That’s so long!” Rami complained.

“That’s what I said!” Joe agreed.

You sighed and got to your feet to go make breakfast. You made some coffee for Joe, but you were having caffeine free herbal tea now instead. When Joe hung up with Rami, he came over to help you.

“What are you making?” he asked.

“French toast,” you replied, cracking an egg into a bowl.

He went to the cupboard and retrieved a few things you’d need like cinnamon and powdered sugar while you heated up a skillet.

“So, I’ve been thinking about names,” he said.

“Oh, have you?”

He nodded. “If it is a boy, can we name him Joseph Francis Mazzello IV?”

You looked at him. You reached for his hand and brought it to your lips. His vulnerability was palpable in this moment. He told you about his father passing away, and you knew how much the name meant to him.

“It would be an honor for our son to have that name,” you said sincerely.

Tears shone in his eyes for a moment. He blinked them away.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Did you have something in mind for a girl?” you wondered.

“I’m not really sure,” he said. “I like a lot of girl names. Have you thought of any?”

“I haven’t,” you said. “I was so worried about telling you and everything this meant, I’ve barely even been excited about it.”

He frowned. “You weren’t excited?”

“Don’t be offended,” you returned. “Please understand. I was terrified. You were gone. And I had a huge decision to make. Now that you’re here with me, and you’re excited, so I’m excited too.”

He dipped the bread in the mixture and placed it in the skillet. He opened a drawer and got the tongs, clacking them together. You raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Gotta make sure they work,” he said.

You giggled. “Alright then.”

“I’m glad you’re excited now, Y/N,” he continued. “I want this to be a happy time.”

“It will be,” you assured him. “This is us we’re talking about. Now flip that toast before you burn it.”

He chuckled and obeyed.

He had a photo shoot that day, so while he was gone, you started cleaning your apartment. Christy was at her boyfriend’s place, since she knew Joe was coming over. It was a good thing too, since Joe had wrecked you more than once last night. You smiled to yourself as you remembered it. You decided to leave him a voicemail and annoyingly - but lovingly - tell him how much you missed him. His phone rang for what felt like ages before the voicemail message ran and you could begin.

“Hey, baby!” you said brightly. “I just wanted to call you and say I love you and I miss you and that was some sweet lovin’ you gave me last night!” You giggled. “Anyway I -”

You were cut off by the knock at the door. Unthinking, you set the phone down and went to answer it. The man behind it took your breath away. It was Nick, your ex who had sold your photos. He stood there, looking guilty but otherwise much the same.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said. “Can I come in?”

“No,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. “You can fuck off.”

You went to slam the door in his face, but he blocked it with his hand.

“Please,” he said. “I’m clean. That’s sort of why I’m here.”

You looked him up and down. “I don’t believe you.”

“W-why?”

“Because addicts are liars,” you spat.

“Y/N, please!” he cried. “I’m trying to make amends.”

“I’m not gonna forgive you,” you said. “I don’t care if you’re sorry.”

“Come on, can’t we talk about this?” he asked. “It’s part of my recovery.”

“Your recovery is not my problem.”

“Please,” he repeated. “I won’t even be here ten minutes. And you don’t have to say anything. But you’re the person I wronged the most and I need to tell you how sorry I am.”

You only glowered at him.

“If you let me do this, I promise I’ll go away and never bother you again.”

“Fine,” you said icily. “But keep your hands where I can see them.”

He held his hands out near his waist, palms open and facing you. He stepped over the threshold. You walked into the kitchen and sat at a barstool.

“Stand on the other side of the counter,” you demanded. “Away from me. Put your hands on the counter.”

He did as you told him. Afterward, he looked at you.

“How’ve you been, Y/N?” he asked.

“Nope, we’re not doing that,” you returned. “Say what you need to say and get out.”

He looked down. When he looked back at you there was something new in his eyes. A look you had never seen before.

“Who’s Joe?” he asked, picking up your phone. You’d forgotten to hang up, so all of this was going into Joe’s voicemail. “He’s got a heart next to his name.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” you explained, nerves taking over. “Give me my phone, Nick. I said you can’t touch anything.”

He didn’t obey you now. Instead, he brought your phone closer to his lips.

“So, Joe,” he said, his tone dark and challenging. “You’re fucking my girl, are you?” He raised his voice to a shout. “KEEPING HER WARM FOR ME, HUH?”

The blood drained from your face as fear washed over you. Nick had never behaved this way. Jealousy and aggression was something you’d never experienced with him, and it was frightening to watch. He shouted more, incoherent things at Joe into the phone before gripping it in his hand tightly. You knew he was going to throw it, and he did. You ducked and screamed as it smashed into the wall, the glass shattering and the paint chipping off in large chunks.

You stood again and stared at Nick, wide-eyed. His sleeve was up from hurling the phone and you saw them - track marks across his skin.

“Why did you come here?!” you yelled. “I knew you were fucking lying!”

“I fucking love you!” he shouted. “I thought you might still love me! We had something special!”

“Get out of my house!” you screamed. “Get the FUCK out of my house!”

“Baby, please!” he cried, tears coming to his eyes. “I need help!”

This tactic you were familiar with.

“I have no help to give you,” you told him. “I will not give you money. I will not give you food. You will get nothing from me.”

“I just need love!” he insisted.

“I have no love for you!” you shouted again. “Get out and stay the hell away from me!”

His breathing picked up again, his chest heaving. He came around the counter and you backed away, giving yourself room to escape him if you needed to. He reached for you, trying to grab your arm, but you ducked away. You couldn’t wait for him to try it again, so you darted into your bedroom, slamming the door shut and locking it. You grabbed the sonogram off your nightstand just as you heard him bang his fist against the bedroom door. He was screaming at you now, but you ignored him. You slipped into your bathroom, closing it and locking it as well. You slumped against the door, sliding slowly to the ground. You could still hear Nick, but his voice was dulled by the doors between you so you couldn’t make out his words. Burying your face in your hands, you waited for help to come to you.

[madpanda75]

I've got a twofer for you 73: “ Oh, Are you ticklish? ” and 182: “ Ive wanted this for so long. ” the concept is that Rafael has a girlfriend who is a virgin and she finally decides that she wants to lose it on Valentine's day

Thanks for your request, sweetie!! I hope you like this, I had a lot fun writing it! ❤️🥰 Sorry I’m a little late with this since Valentine’s Day.

Warning: NSFW 

“The First Night”

Rafael stood behind you, playfully dropping kisses on your neck while lightly prodding your sides.

“Raf! Stop!” You said in a fit of laughter, trying to squirm away and focus on putting the final touches on your ropa vjeja.

“Oh, are you ticklish?” He asked, continuing his assault.

“You know I am. Why don’t you make yourself useful and go open a bottle of wine. Dinner’s almost ready,” you winked at your boyfriend.

Rafael sighed in defeat, “Ok, but only because I’m hungry.” He kissed your lips once more before grabbing the merlot, uncorking the bottle and pouring two glasses just as you placed the food on the table.

It was Valentine’s Day, a day where romantic restaurants all over Manhattan were jam packed with couples celebrating their love. Rather than fight the crowds and be inundated with nylon red balloons and cheesy pink hearts, you opted to invite Rafael over for a quiet night in. You had even gotten his abuela’s ropa vjeja recipe for the occasion.

Rafael moaned around a mouthful of food, “Y/N, this is amazing.”

“Really?” You had gone to three different supermarkets to get the ingredients for the dish. Having never cooked Cuban food before, you wanted the meal to be perfect.

“Don’t tell my mom, and I’ll deny it if you ever do, but this is better than hers.”

You beamed with pride, “I promise I won’t tell.”

Rafael and you had only been together for 6 months but never in your life had you felt so connected to another human being. It was as if you both had known each other your entire lives.

For him, you were like a breath of fresh air. Having had his heart broken before, he had closed that chapter of his life, believing he would never find love again, until he met you.

After dinner, you watched as Rafael lovingly fingered the pages of the book you had gotten him for Valentine’s Day. It was a first edition copy of Slaughterhouse Five signed by Kurt Vonnegut.

“Do you like your present?”

Rafael took your hand and smiled brightly at you, “I love it, cariño. Thank you so much. Where did you even find this?”

“I have my ways,” you smirked. “Happy Valentine’s Day, mi amor.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, mi vida. I love you,” he leaned over, placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

“I love you too,” you softly said.

Just as you were about to clean up from dinner, the lights in your apartment flickered for a few seconds before going out completely. “What the hell?” You said, standing in your kitchen, flicking the light switch on and off.

“Must be a power outage,” Rafael looked out the window, noticing the building across the street was also dark. “Do you have any candles?”

“Yeah, in the hallway closet,” you replied.

As Rafael lit some candles, you checked with your landlord. She confirmed there was an outage that was affecting your block and the power company was working on the situation as quickly as possible.

When you came back into your apartment you gasped at the scene before you. Piles of blankets and pillows laid on your living room floor, candles covered the end tables and coffee table, their soft light casting a romantic glow.

Rafael sat in the middle of the impromptu oasis he had created, smiling at you, “Is it too much?”

You shook your head, “No, it’s perfect.”

He patted the spot next to him, motioning you over. You happily obliged, laying your legs over his, kissing him deeply.

After a moment, he pulled away, “You know I never got the chance to give you your present.” Reaching into his pocket, he took out a small red velvet pouch, placing it in your hand. Rafael watched you open the pouch, pulling out a key. “It’s a key to my apartment. I know it’s only been 6 months, but I was hoping you would want to move in with me.”

You stared at him, utterly speechless, your lease was up in a month so it was perfect timing. “Yes! Yes, of course I’ll move in with you, ” you broke out into a brilliant smile before lunging at him, causing him to fall backwards with you in his arms.

He held you close, laughing against your lips as he kissed you. The kiss quickly began to gain momentum, his hands roaming your form. He rolled over so you were beneath him, his tongue brushing up against your own. You softly moaned, tugging on his bottom lip, your leg hooking around his hip. He whimpered, nipping at your jawline.

“Rafael, make love to me,” you whispered breathlessly.

As soon as those words escaped your lips, he stopped, knowing that you were a virgin and the weight that simple request carried. You had been seriously contemplating giving him your virginity, deciding that tonight would be the night you took your relationship to the next level.  

Men balked when you dropped the big V-bomb on them, all but sprinting out the door. It was always the same story, they would lament that sex is a critical part of a relationship. While you agreed that sex was important, it wasn’t the only component of a relationship. You wanted to wait until you were in love, truly, deeply in love to share that part of you, that physical intimacy with someone.

After you first told Rafael about your virgin state, you promptly showed him to the door, expecting him to flee just like the others. Instead you were surprised to discover that he shared your sentiments about wanting to wait until you were in love to have sex. He was incredibly patient and sweet, allowing you to set the pace as you both got to know each other better.

With Rafael, you wanted him to see all of you. There was a deep rooted connection between you both, a love that made you feel safe to be vulnerable and exposed. It was a love like no other, one that neither of you had experienced until now.

He looked down at you with his hypnotic green eyes, gently stroking your cheek, “Are you sure? Just because I asked you to move in with me….I don’t want you to feel pressured into this.”

“Of course I’m sure. I’ve wanted this for so long. I’ve waited for so long,” you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his hair as you pulled him into a feverish kiss. “I want you,” you purred against his mouth.

“You have me. I’m yours, mi amor,” he groaned.

Rafael moved to stand up. Taking your hands, he helped to get you to your feet, gifting you a slow sensual kiss, pulling you flush to his body. You melted into his touch, your tongue seeking entrance into the warm confines of his mouth.

He hummed against your lips, his hands sliding down your back to cup your ass and lift you into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing him hard as he carried you to the bedroom.

Your heart was beating so fast, it was practically pounding out of your chest when he set you down at the foot of the bed. “This is real. This is actually happening,” you thought to yourself.

Rafael cupped your face, sensing that you were anxious. “Hey, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You softly smiled, “I know, but I want to. I’m just nervous.”

He placed tender kisses on your face and leaned his forehead against yours, “I’m nervous too. We’ll go slow.” Kissing you again, his fingers brushed under your shirt before tugging it off your body. His hands moving around to unsnap your bra. “Is this ok?” He asked.

“Yes,” you whispered.

Rafael lowered your bra straps, taking a minute to drink you in. Dipping his head down, he placed a kiss on your pulse point, before tracing your collarbone with his tongue.

Your breath hitched. Rubbing your thighs together, you could feel your desire for him begin to get stronger. Your fingers trembled as you began to unbutton his shirt. Rafael’s chest rose and fell rapidly, watching you push the shirt off his shoulders. You ran your hands across his bare chest, running your fingers through his chest hair, feeling his muscles tighten under your touch.

Your palm rested over his chest, you could feel how fast his heart was beating, matching the same rapid pace as yours. You looked up into his eyes and pulled him into a hungry kiss. His lips moved over yours more insistently as his fingertips trailed down your ribcage towards the waistband of your skirt.

You moaned, your tongues dancing with each other as you blindly searched for the button to his slacks. While you were working on ridding him of his pants, he unzipped your skirt, pushing it off your frame. Rafael moved to gently lay you on the bed. Hovering above you, he kissed down the column of your throat.

“Rafael,” you whimpered, arching your hips up, grinding into his erection. This was the farthest you had ever gone with a man. In the past you were always too scared and unsure to take it any further, but not tonight. Laying in Rafael’s arms, you had never been so sure of anything in your life.

A fire began to burn deep in your belly, your flesh becoming heated when you stopped, “Rafael, the candles!” He stared down at you in confusion, his eyebrows furrowed. “In the other room, we left them burning,” you explained, afraid that your living room would be engulfed in flames.

A realization spread to his face, ‘Don’t move. I’ll get them.” He scurried out of the room, almost tripping over the discarded clothes on the floor as he hurried to blow out the candles in the living room. You let out a long sigh and closed your eyes, listening to the sounds of the city outside your window. The sirens, the horns, the sounds of people living their everyday lives, it was soothing, an urban lullaby.

Rafael came back into the room. His heart skipped a beat when he saw you laying on the bed, eyes closed, hair fanned out on the sheets, the moonlight casting a glow on your figure. You looked like an angel.

“My God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered with a lustful look in his eyes.

You opened your eyes and sat up on the bed, pulling down his boxer briefs, freeing his caged erection. Your eyes widened when you saw his hard cock, a drop of precum oozing from his slit. “You’re so big,” you blurted out.

He blushed and snorted a laugh, “Thank you.”

“I can’t believe I just said that,” you covered your face in embarrassment, only to have him gently pull your hands away, peppering your face in adoring kisses.

“Don’t be embarrassed. Tonight is about you. I want to make you feel good,” he softly said, stroking your cheek. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too,” you said, kissing him slow and sweet, laying back, bringing him down on top of you. Tentatively, you reached down and wrapped your hand around him, he felt hot and heavy in your grip. He moaned, nibbling on your neck as you stroked his cock, rubbing his precum up and down his shaft. You moved a little faster, tightening your hold on him, experimentally, adding a twist with every downward stroke.

“Oh fuck, cariño,” he groaned, arching his hips into your touch. He kissed you, growling against your mouth, gently tugging on your bottom petal.

On your own accord, you spread your legs for him. His lips began a fiery trail down your body. He cupped your breast, blowing cool air on your nipple. Watching it harden under his command, he circled your areola with his tongue before taking it into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on the hardened bud. You gasped, writhing under his touch, arching your back as he repeated his actions on the other breast.

He continued to leave wet open mouth kisses down your stomach as the backs of his fingers slid up the side of your legs towards your hips, “Your skin is so soft,” he purred, dragging his tongue across your bikini line. He settled himself in between your legs, groaning when he saw the dark wet patch of arousal that had soaked through your panties. Kissing the juncture where your hip and thigh met, his head was centimeters away from your lace covered labia.

You laid back on the bed, taking in large gulps of air, desperate for his touch. “Raf…please touch me,” you begged.

He ran his nose up your slit, inhaling deeply, tugging your panties off and tossing them aside. The heady scent of your wet sex made his cock twitch with excitement.

“You smell delicious,” he purred, spreading your lower lips, exposing your glistening pink pearl to him, his hand lightly stroking the quivering soft flesh. Dipping his head, he placed a kiss right on your clit before pulling the nub deep into the depths of his mouth.

You practically jumped off the bed, never having experienced the sensation of someone’s mouth on your sensitive feminine parts.

“Try to relax, cariño,” Rafael said, kissing your inner thigh. You nodded your head and laid back, losing yourself in the thralls of ecstasy.

Rafael licked a broad stripe up your slit, sucking on your labia, the wet squelch of his actions filled the room. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you moaned and arched your hips. He traced your entrance with his tongue, flicking against it rapidly, groaning as your sweet taste flooded his mouth, the vibrations shooting right through your core. You draped your legs over his shoulders, trying to pull him closer.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watched him make love to your pussy with his mouth. His eyes met yours as he massaged your bundle of nerves, moaning against you. Your cheeks tinged bright pink, breath coming in heavy pants. Watching him pleasure you was the most erotic and sensual experience of your life.

“Please…more,” you sobbed, tangling your fingers in his hair. He wound his arms around your thighs, nodding his head between your legs, his chin coated in your arousal. “Oh Raf! You make me so wet, I can’t stand it,” you blushed at your words. What was this man doing to you?

Rafael smirked and brought a finger under his chin, slowly plunging it into your sheath, your arousal allowing it to easily slide in. He continued stimulating your clit, your muscles relaxing against his digit before slowly sliding it in and and out of your opening.

“Fuck,” you whined, the sensation of his large finger pumping into your center left you wanting more.

“Does that feel good?” He asked in a husky voice, watching as you began to move against him.

“Yes…oh God..yes,” you moaned. Rafael increased his suction on your clit, adding another finger, thrusting them in and out of you, mimicking the way he would fuck you with his cock.

Unable to keep your head up, you collapsed on the bed, your eyes slipping close, mouth open in an “o” form as your muscles pulled him in deeper, your body rocking back and forth against him. He pulled his fingers out of you, turning them towards him and plunging back in, crooking them upward in a come hither motion, wiggling them against your g-spot.

Your walls fluttered against him, tension building in the pit of of your stomach. Your moans were louder and more high pitched. Rafael was relentless, working his fingers inside you while gently nibbling on your clit, moaning and groaning. One final stroke and you were coming hard, a low guttural moan escaping your throat. Arching your back, you tugged hard on his hair, every muscle in your body contracting. Rafael hummed, licking you through your release, slowly pulling his fingers out.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, trying to calm yourself from such an intense orgasm. “You’ve got quite a mouth on you.”

Rafael chuckled and kissed his way back up your body. Craning your neck up, you kissed him hard, moaning when you tasted yourself on his tongue. You whimpered, feeling his rock hard erection brush up against your thigh. “Y/N, I need you,” he softly said against your lips. “Oh damn…umm I don’t have any condoms,” he froze and looked down at you apologetically.

“Don’t worry I have some,” you smiled and reached over into your nightstand, pulling out the biggest box of condoms Rafael had ever seen.

“Wow….”some” is an understatement. I’m shocked and incredibly happy all at the same time,” he said.

“I like to be prepared,” you giggled and handed him one.

He nuzzled his nose against yours, “One of the many reasons why I love you.” Ripping the condom packet open, he rolled the rubber onto his member. Rafael hovered above you, his eyes filled with love and adoration, “I’ll be gentle. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Tears filled your eyes, gazing up at the man you loved. “Its ok, mi amor. I trust you, ” you tilted your head to kiss his forearm framing your face.

Rafael ran his cock up and down your slit, collecting your wetness before he pushed his crown against your entrance. You gasped, your eyes widening as you experienced this new sensation.

“Hold onto me, cariño. I’ve got you,” he whispered breathlessly.

Your nails dug into his skin, leaving half moon indentations. He pushed further until he was halfway inside you, stroking your hair, kissing over every inch of your face. Rafael leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in heavy pants, trying to calm himself. He clutched your shoulders so hard his knuckles were white. You were incredibly tight, your grip on him was beyond anything he had ever felt before. It took all his strength not to snap his hips and bury himself inside you.

After a few minutes, he slid the rest of the way in, burying his head in the crook of your neck, groaning loudly when your hips made contact. You mewled, clinging to Rafael. Your muscles stretched and strained, it felt like they would snap, trying to accommodate his large size. The fullness of his cock inside you settled into your bones. Nothing could have prepared you for that fine line you were walking between pain and pleasure.  

He lifted his head, gauging your reaction, searching for any signs of discomfort in your face, “Breathe, Y/N,” he said in a strained voice. “Are you ok? Do you want me to stop?”

“No…don’t stop. Don’t ever stop,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”

He kissed you fervently, licking into your mouth. After several minutes he slowly pulled out until only the head of his cock remained inside you before gently pushing back in. He shivered as he began to move against you, feeling your walls clench around him. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned.

“So do you,” you whimpered, your body beginning to yield to him, the smell of his cologne mixed with sweat was enough to drive you wild with lust.

Heavy breathing and pleasure filled moans filled the air as he quickened his pace. “Please more,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you.

Kissing your lips over and over again, he grunted against your mouth, thrusting into you a little harder, still trying to be as gentle as possible. He moved his hand between your bodies, rubbing circles over your clit. You cried out in ecstasy, your nails scratching down his back, “Oh God! Rafael….so good!”

He groaned, arching his hips to hit that delicious spot deep inside you, moving his fingers more insistently over your bundle of nerves. The heat coming off your joined bodies made it feel as if you were being forged in the fire. Your skin malleable under his touch, your body being pushed to the edge.

“Fuck! Please don’t stop!” You whined. Feeling close to orgasm, you covered your mouth with your hand, feeling shy about vocalizing your release.

Rafael pulled your hand away from your mouth, pinning both of your wrists above your head with his one large paw. “Don’t be ashamed. I want to hear you. Let me hear how good I make you feel,” he demanded in a husky voice. He lowered his head to suck on your nipple, his fingers rolling and pinching your clit as he moved a little faster against you.

You arched your back one final time, your orgasm all consuming, stars exploding before your eyes. “Rafael!” You screamed, falling apart beneath him. Feeling your muscles spasm and contract around him was enough to send him over the edge. He came harder than he ever had before, his lips capturing yours as he growled and groaned against your mouth.

He let go of your hands, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck, stroking you both through your release, his hips slowing to a stop. You clung to him, your body trembling, pulling him into a white hot kiss. He rested his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath, a sheen of sweat covering your bodies.

“I love you so much,” he nuzzled his nose against yours, running a hand through your hair.

“I love you too,” you whispered, tears falling down your cheeks. The emotion you felt at the moment was overwhelming. He kissed them away and held you before gently pulling out of you. Peeling off the used condom, he went to the bathroom to toss it in the trash. He settled back in bed, pulling you even closer to him, kissing your forehead, each eyelid, the tip of nose, and finally dropping a tender kiss on your lips.  

“How do you feel?” He asked, his fingertips dancing up and down your spine as you both laid together.

“Sore but…in a good way,” you sighed in contentment. “I’m so happy I waited for you.”

“I’m so happy I have you in my life. Tu eres la reina de mi corazón. Te amo,” Rafael kissed the top of your head.

“Te amo tambien,” you lazily kissed his skin before moving to straddle him. “Think we could go for round two in a few minutes?”

“You read my mind, cariño,” he said with a devious smirk. “Our first night together.”

“One of many,” you purred, pulling the covers over you both, kissing him passionately. Your heart was full. Every broken relationship, every moment where you doubted you would ever find love, it all led you to Rafael, the love of your life.  

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