#and i woke up with a headache an have been lacking sleep for weeks at this point | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sagewritings · 1 year

Text

Night Fever - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

pairing: steve harrington x female reader

synopsis: after escaping vecna’s curse and the terrors of the upside down, nightmares and trauma started taking over your mind and body. hopefully, you and steve’s feelings for each other will be enough to save you.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of curse, trauma, death threats

request: [anon] hi!! i would love to request (if it interests you) a steve x reader ‘one of them is presumed dead and then is found but is severely tortured/traumatized’ fic! they are my SHIT and i never seen any with steve x reader (usually only eddie x reader). id love it if vecna got a hold of steve or the reader, maybe after the s4 finale, and made them confuse reality with nightmares and all that good angst. i know this is a lot and not everyone likes angst, but i thought id ask!

a/n: hello everyone! it’s been a while since i’ve posted here on my blog (i’m so sorry i got busy with college) but i missed writing fics for steve so here’s one! just a disclaimer, this fic is based on the events from more than a woman and staying alive. i recommend reading them beforehand to fully understand where the reader’s trauma came from but you can still read this on it’s own :)

if you’d like to check out my other works, you can check the pinned post in my blog :>

i hope you’ll like this fic! happy reading!

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

It’s two in the morning.

A thin layer of sweat covered your forehead, your hand on your chest as you tried to control your breathing. It’s been days. Nine days to be exact, and the ninth time you woke up from a night of disturbed sleep.

Frustrated, you threw the blanket away from your body and sat up. Realizing that it was still very much dark outside, you dimly opened the lamp beside your bed and walked yourself towards the bathroom.

For more than a week, every night has been like this. You, wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare, go to the bathroom to wash your face, and settle by the window to read or listen to music until the sun rises.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror and saw how drained you look. How could you not, when you’ve spent no longer than two hours of sleeping?

You never told your friends your dilemma, although you didn’t have to because they can see it. Steve, especially.

He noticed the way you grew quiet, staring blankly ahead in class while you mindlessly played with your pen. He saw how you started losing your interest, slowly turning down every hangout invitation from your friends. He didn’t miss the way your shoulder slumped and your mouth frowned either. It wasn’t a look of disappointment. No, it was grief.

Steve felt as if you were vanishing right in front of his eyes, and it scares him that he doesn’t know the reason why. He tried to approach you multiple times, but in every occurrence, you appear startled and scared before dodging the topic.

After splashing your face with cold water, you silently walked back to your bed and laid on your back. You were too awake and scared to go back to sleep, but with fatigue quickly taking over your body, you can only hope for a dreamless night.

===================

You weren’t sure whether your headache was caused by your lack of sleep or the overwhelming amount of voices surrounding you. Both, perhaps.

Your friends managed to get you out of the house an hour ago, inviting you to lunch at a diner. They said that it was time to unwind after the rough events that took place several days ago. And looking around the large booth, your friends occupying every seat at the table, you start to feel comfortable.

Steve sat beside you as he admired your small smile that he hasn’t seen for a while. He leaned closer to your ear and whispered low enough for only you to hear. “Are you alright?”

You kept your smile and nodded. You didn’t speak a lot these days, afraid that once you open your mouth, all of your burdens will spill out. Steve returned a grin and leaned back, glancing at you from time to time while he simultaneously finished his meal.

You and Steve haven’t made it official yet. Although you two are aware of your feelings for each other and it is clear that you are more than friends, your behavior lately has not allowed him to ask you to be his girlfriend.

On your other side, Max also stops to look at you, her eyes becoming soft as she silently observes how tired you looked. Your eyes met, and you tried your best to look as delightful as you can be.

“What?” You asked her softly.

“You look tired,” Max answered honestly. She kept her voice balanced and quiet, careful not to disrupt the conversation that Eleven and Mike are having beside her. “Have you slept?”

“Of course I did.” You replied coolly. “Just not enough.”

“Are you having nightmares?” You were shocked by her question but maintained a straight face, not giving an answer but you realized that she already knows. “It’s okay, I’m having them too.”

You looked at your younger friend sadly. Max has been through a similar experience as you, probably even worse yet here she is, smiling and laughing as if nothing has happened.

“How do you do it? How are you moving on?” You whispered.

“I just… I don’t want to spend my life in fear. The last time I did, I almost died.” She laughed slightly, but there was no hint of humor in her tone. “Just find a reason to move on, Y/n. There might be one that is much closer than you think.”

You didn’t miss the way her eyes shifted to Steve quickly.

Maybe she was right. Maybe you can move on.

===================

You woke up on a cold hard floor.

It took a while before your sight turned clear enough to assess your surroundings. Hardwood floor, light beige walls, a window, and a door in front of you. You realized that you were in your bedroom, only without the furniture and posters that used to make your room lively.

“Dad?” You screamed, pushing yourself up from the floor. You started walking around but your feet felt heavy and slow. “Dad!”

The door bursts open. You were expecting to see the corridor of your house but took a step back when red smoke immediately entered the room. You shielded your eyes and nose as you felt the air inside the room become heavier. You rushed towards the door, but instantly regretted the decision when you recognized the scene before your eyes.

Four pillars, thick dark vines, and a red sky. The last time you were here, you were almost killed.

Upon instinct, you turned around in hopes to go back to the room, only to find the door no longer there. Your breathing became panicked as your mind tried to process whether this is real or not.

“Y/n…”

Your hands felt cold upon hearing the low taunting voice.

No, it couldn’t be.

“Y/n. Did you think you could get away from me easily?”

Despite the loud footsteps that you could hear behind you, you refused to turn around and shut your eyes.

“Oh, that won’t do. I’ll always be here, Y/n. You can’t escape me.” Vecna laughed deviously. Your back was still turned against him, but you can sense his presence becoming closer and closer with each second.

You opened your eyes slightly and shifted your eyes as far as you could without looking at the monster. You hoped for an escape, just like the previous times. There was none.

“Can’t you see? There’s no way out.” He laughed even louder.

“You’re not real.” You said to him, trying to convince yourself as well.

“But I am, and I won’t stop until I have your soul. Your death will be my victory.” Tears pooled in your eyes as his laugh echoed.

You couldn’t take it and run, unsure of where you’re headed but that was the least of your priority. You needed to find a way out. Fast.

===================

After the quick lunch at the diner with your friends, you immediately went home to calm your pounding head.

Steve, still worried and determined to find out what has been bothering you, decided to stop by your house several hours later. He knocked on the door and was slightly surprised to find your father by the door.

“Hey, Steve!” Your dad greeted him warmly.

Steve Harrington’s charm works for many people, including your father. While he is protective of you as his only daughter, he has already observed how gentle Steve is towards you. Only an ignorant person would not notice how you and Steve admire each other. From the simple glances to the subtle touches, there is no denying that you like each other.

So when your friends came over and told him that you and Steve finally confessed, he smiled approvingly. It’s about time.

“Hi, sir. Is Y/n here?” Steve asked politely.

“Ah, yes. She’s upstairs. You were with her a while ago, yes?”

“Yep. I just want to check on her.” Steve replied.

The smile your father had on his face grew small when he heard Steve’s words, motioning him to step inside the house. “Go ahead. But can I ask you a question, Steve?”

“Sure, sir. Anything.”

“Is she alright? I know my daughter, and I know that these past few days have been tough on her. I just don’t know why. And I won’t force you or her to tell me. I just need to know if she’s fine.”

The sincerity and concern behind your father’s voice moved your friend’s heart. He loved your dad as his own, feeling more connected with him than towards his own father. And so his conscience feels heavy every time he has to lie to him about the supernatural beings that your friend group has been facing. If he knew that his daughter had been cursed, your father would lose his mind and would probably lock you up to keep you safe.

“She’s fine, sir. Don’t worry.” Steve shot him a confident smile, ignoring the twisted feeling in his stomach. How ironic is it that he’s telling your father not to worry when he is restless?

Your dad nodded understandingly and patted Steve on the back.

Steve went up the stairs quietly, eyes scanning through the picture frames hanging by the wall. He knew the pictures all too well after visiting your house countless times.

He arrived in front of your bedroom door shortly and knocked. When you didn’t answer, Steve tried twisting the knob to see if it was locked. It’s not.

He knocked again, this time announcing himself. “Y/n, it’s me, Steve.”

No answer.

Your dad said you were here, right? Maybe you were inside the bathroom?

Carefully, Steve slowly opened the door and peeked inside. He quickly spotted you on your bed, tucked underneath your weighted blanket with your eyes closed. He walked closer to you and adored how peaceful you looked.

He smiled softly, wanting to touch your face but afraid to wake you up. Knowing how tired you must have been, it made him happy to see you finally at ease.

If only it lasted.

Steve turned around to leave your room when he heard you whimper. He turned around to face you once more. Your calm aura is now overtaken by scrunched eyebrows and low cries.

“Dad.” He heard you mumble as your face twisted with discomfort.

“Y/n?” Steve tried reaching out to you, confused whether you were awake or not. “It’s Steve.”

Your eyes remained closed as you continued to sob in your sleep, making Steve realize that you were experiencing a nightmare. He softly placed a hand on your cheek, hoping to wake you up but failing. Then his eyes widened in panic when he felt you shake.

“Y/n.” He called your name again, maintaining a calm voice to avoid startling you. “Come on, open your eyes for me.”

He heard you whisper a phrase, but your voice was muffled because of you crying and shaking. Steve rubbed your upper arm soothingly while continuing to call your name.

It wasn’t long until you gasped and opened your eyes, frantically sitting up as if you were trying to catch some air.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re alright.” Steve sat beside you, his right hand going up and down your back while the other held your hand.

Although aware of his presence, you couldn’t look directly at Steve as your mind is still trying to process what you have just seen. It took you a whole minute to calm down, breathing heavily as you wiped the tears away from your face.

“Steve.” You finally acknowledged him, speaking his name softly.

A new wave of tears exited your eyes when you finally felt vulnerable. You cried deeply, the stress and exhaustion from the previous nights suddenly poured out from your body. Steve held you close and stroked your hair while you cried against his shoulder, whispering comforting words while he patiently waited for you to calm down.

Whatever your nightmare was about has absolutely wrecked you.

“H-he’s going to come after me.” You finally spoke after a while, your voice hoarse from crying.

“What?” Steve asked, his fingers brushing away the strands of hair that fell against your face tenderly.

“Vecna. He’s still after me, Steve.” You cried out.

You remembered it all. The grief that you felt after you lost your mother, resulted in you and your father moving to Hawkins. How that grief became the key to Vecna cursing you. You remembered the first time you heard that a student was killed. It didn’t take long before two more followed, and then it was you. Almost you.

The headache and constant worry over yourself and Max. Seeing her rise in the air with her eyes glazed in white. You knew you looked like that too, never forgetting the terrified look that Steve has on his face every time you came back.

Then there was the clock, the bats, the Upside Down.

You recalled how Eddie was accused of murder and how your group tried to protect him from Jason’s vile friends. You remembered the vines pulling you against the pillar while Vecna’s terrifying figure towered over you. Your heart almost pumping out of your chest as you ran away from him and towards Steve.

“That’s not possible, Y/n. We killed him, remember?” Steve tried to convince you.

“I know that. I want to believe that. But he’s still in my mind.” You explained, starting to feel the weight on your chest lighten a bit after confessing to Steve. “I can’t sleep without seeing him. Sometimes he threatens me, sometimes he threatens my dad. He showed me images of you dead.”

You broke down even more.

Steve didn’t know what to do. He wanted to comfort you but he can’t do anything else other than hold you. Seeing you in tears as you voice out your fears hurts him, but he knew he had to stay strong.

He knew all that had happened, being beside you throughout everything. He would be lying if he said that none of it affected him. No, it was imprinted on his mind. The images of his friends fighting against those deadly creatures, seeing you and Max floating in the air while he can’t do anything aside from hope. Steve hated every second of it.

Yet he knew that you faced worse. If only he could take away your fear, he would.

He gently shushed you, kissing your forehead while he continuously whispered “I’m here.” You two stayed like that for a while, arms around each other as you released your pain through your tears.

“I’m sorry.” You said to him after a while, pulling away slightly to wipe your tears with your hand.

“Hey, you don’t need to apologize. Don’t ever apologize. You shouldn’t have gone through all those things.” Steve looked directly into your eyes as he gently held your face, determined to make you believe him. “You are strong, Y/n. You inspire me, you inspire Max, all of us look up to you.”

You sniffed, hugging him again while thanking him.

At this point, you weren’t sure whether you’ll be fully healed again. But Steve is right, you are strong because you survived. And Vecna is gone, your friends made sure of that. You didn’t know how long it would take you to move on without fear constantly nagging you. But with Steve holding you close, his relaxed breathing calming your own as he leaned back beside you, you didn’t worry.

Finally, you fell asleep without dreaming.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #stranger things fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington season 4

148 notes · View notes

cuddlepilefics · 11 months

Text

Candles, lanterns, fairylights

Fandom: P1Harmony

Sickies: Taeyang & Keeho

Caregivers: P1Harmony

Prompt @flufftober

The two eldest members of the group come down with a miserable cold which leaves them too light sensitive to leave their room to join the rest of the group. The maknaes have just the right idea to help...

No one’s POV.:

It had only been a matter of time till Taeyang and Keeho would fall ill. The two had been fatigued for a little over a week but figured the shorter days and lack of sun exposure were getting to them. Only when Taeyang woke up with a pounding headache one morning did he consider to take his temperature. The eldest didn’t even bother to go through his morning routine but made sure the other members were up and getting ready for the day. Approaching Keeho, Taeyang admitted: “I just called our manager to let him know I won’t be able to join you guys for practice today. My head’s killing me and I have a fever. Guess I finally know why I’ve felt so off lately.” – “Well, shit”, Keeho sighed sympathetically, his voice still thick with sleep, “Do you need anything before we leave? Is there enough medicine or should we go pick something up on our way back?” – “I think we’re stocked up on medicine but I’ll check before you leave. There’s one thing I need you to do though”, Taeyang muttered, “I need you to go and take your temperature too because you’ve been just as rundown as me lately and you look like shit.”

While Keeho went to take his temperature, Taeyang sat in the living room and let Jiung know what was going on too. Their fellow ’01-liner made sure their dongsaengs had all eaten breakfast and brought the eldest a cup of tea. Both looked up at Keeho expectantly when he joined them, chewing on his bottom lip. “I don’t even feel that bad”, the leader frowned, still shocked by the high reading on the thermometer. Patting the spot next to him on the couch, Taeyang sighed: “Please tell me you’re going to stay home with me today. With the way your eyes look, you don’t even have to tell me the reading. I can tell it’s high.” – “I don’t know”, Keeho mumbled, “I don’t feel as bad as it looks and it doesn’t seem right to leave the youngsters to work by themselves.” – “I got them”, Jiung cut in, “Think of yourself first. Your health should be your priority. The rest of us will do just fine. Our schedule is pretty well structured, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

After some consideration, Keeho agreed to take a sick day too but before he’d call their manager, he wanted to check on the other members as well. If there was more than one sick member already, it was most likely something contagious, so better assess how many of them would need to be called in sick first. Luckily, it seemed to only be the two of them for the time being, so Jiung proposed they should switch rooms for a while. If Taeyang and Keeho shared one of the rooms and the other four shared the other room, they wouldn’t interfere with each other’s sleep too much. Since they barely had any time left, they just quickly moved their beddings and most essential items, so the two maknaes would stay with Jiung and Intak, while Keeho would stay in Taeyang’s room. The vocalist’s idea was genius because it only took two hours after the group left for Keeho to develop a cough and he was glad that Taeyang had made him stay home. His throat itched, no matter how much water he sipped and he soon found himself curled up on the couch. Taeyang had gone right back to sleep once the others left and he didn’t want to wake the older with his coughing.

Keeho placed a bottle of water on Taeyang’s nightstand and draped a cold washcloth over his forehead before leaving to collect a change of clothes from his room. His muscles ached and he felt painfully cold, so he figured a hot shower would soothe the discomfort while the steam might help with his cough. He didn’t have anything else to do anyway, so why not enjoy a long shower when he didn’t have to rush for once. Nobody was waiting for their turn showering, so he could enjoy the hot water for as long as he wanted. Keeho relaxed as the water washed over him, the warmth relaxing his tense shoulders. It was only now that he noticed he too in fact had a headache though it had to be a lot worse for Taeyang. The steam did help clear the congestion some and the urge to cough wasn’t as strong anymore, despite his throat still being quite irritated.

‘As long as he wanted’, soon turned into ‘as long as he could stay on his feet’ because the longer Keeho took, the more lightheaded he got till he eventually turned off the water and rested his forehead against the tile, trying to collect himself, so he could get out of the shower without losing his balance. As soon as he had dried himself off and gotten dressed, he sluggishly plopped down on the closed toilet seat. It seems his shower had zapped all of his energy. Keeho was slowly dozing off and startled when Taeyang walked in. He could see the other’s lips moving but his words didn’t make any sense. Squinting at the older, Keeho just sat there. Taeyang grabbed the towel the leader had left on the sink and carefully rubbed his hair dry. He didn’t like the far away look in Keeho’s eyes and he hadn’t gotten a coherent sentence out of the younger yet. Keeho winced in discomfort when Taeyang took his temperature. He barely registered the curse, only looking up when the older patted his flushed cheek. Keeho’s vision darkened as he was pulled to his feet. The leader desperately clung to anything he could find to steady himself, which so happened to be Taeyang’s shoulder and the edge of the sink only to have his fingers being peeled off the ceramic.

Taeyang struggled to get Keeho to let go of the sink, which he held onto with a white-knuckled grip. The leader whimpered hoarsely when he Taeyang removed his fingers and pulled him along. “It’s okay”, the oldest shushed. By now, he was supporting most of Keeho’s weight. Manhandling the leader to their now shared room, Taeyang promised: “You’ll be fine, we’re almost there.” The oldest was panting once he had finally gotten his friend to lay down. Piling pillows and blankets under Keeho’s legs to elevate them, Taeyang was relieved to see the other’s face slowly take on a healthier shade. “What was that?”, he asked softly, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. Brushing a few damp strands of hair out of Keeho’s face, the older hummed: “Can you try again please? I’m sorry, I didn’t understand.”

It took almost a minute before Keeho spoke up again. “My head hurts”, the leader breathed, only slightly slurring his speech now. Sighing in relief, Taeyang agreed: “Yeah, I bet it does. Your fever’s really high. If you promise me to stay conscious, I’ll go and fetch an icepack.” Keeho gave a weak nod before draping his arm across his face. This shower had been a mistake.

A shiver ran down Keeho’s spine when Taeyang draped the icepack across his forehead. The leader mumbled a tired ‘thanks’ and dried to breathe deeply in hopes of controlling the dizziness. All it did was trigger his cough and the older had to help him sit up, messily pushing the pillow heap off the foot of the bed. Keeho’s throat stung and his head pounded as he rested his elbows on his knees to brace himself. He didn’t know where Taeyang had disappeared to after helping him up but really wished the older would return soon. The leader didn’t have to wait for long before a glass appeared in his hand and Taeyang instructed: “Try drinking a few sips.” Keeho trembled as the oldest helped him raise the glass to his chapped lips. “Good job”, Taeyang whispered as the younger caught his breath.

“You don’t have a cough, do you? Why’s my throat so ow?”, Keeho whined hoarsely once he had settled back down. Taeyang had moved some of the pillows back underneath the leader’s legs because of how lightheaded the younger still was. Giving Keeho a sympathetic smiled, Taeyang hummed: “Yeah, that cold seems to have gone straight down to your throat and chest. It’s further up for me.” The light in the room was quite dim, so it took a moment of really looking closely at the older for Keeho to notice. “Holy shit, your eyes!”, the leader winced. Taeyang nodded, sniffling: “They won’t stop watering and the light makes it worse. That’s why it’s so dark in here. This cold’s mainly messing with my sinuses, my whole head feels like it’s filled with cotton.” – “We’re a mess”, Keeho concluded, closing his eyes. He listened to Taeyang shuffle around the room. The older clumsily plucked a tissue from the box and gave a productive blow. Keeho cringed and opened his eyes when the other gasped. The shift in congestion had made his nose tingle unbearably and Taeyang caught two wet sneezes in the tissue before sniffling. His lashes were dotted with tears and a few had spilled down his cheeks too. “Bless you”, Keeho mumbled but the older still wouldn’t move, sitting completely frozen. Pitching forward with one final sneeze, Taeyang cleared his throat. Sluggishly cleaning himself up, the oldest breathed: “Thanks.”

Around lunchtime, Jiung texted their group chat, asking the two how they were holding up and if they needed anything. In a way, he had hoped not to get a reply because it’d mean that they were asleep but also wasn’t really surprised when he got a reply in only a matter of minutes. Not wanting to worry their maknaes too much, Taeyang had decided to shoot Jiung a private message. He really didn’t want to bother their friends but hesitantly asked Jiung if they could pick up some stuff on their way back because they had taken a downturn and it also couldn’t hurt to be stocked up if any of them caught this cold too. Though Keeho insisted that they were alright and that nobody should worry, Taeyang told Jiung to not be fooled by their leader, who was doing far worse than he wanted to let on over text.

When their schedule was over, the group split up. Jiung sent Shota and Jongseob home with the instructions to check on their friends and start dinner, while Intak would go to the store to stock up on tissues and cough drops. Jiung would stop by the pharmacy to get some decongestants and maybe more fever reducers in case they ran out. He wasn’t entirely sure what to expect because the two had given him slightly contradicting information but he hoped he got the bases covered.

The two maknaes entered the dorm as quietly as possible to not wake their hyungs, should they be sleeping. When they went to their room to check on them, they were shocked at the condition they found the two eldest in. Keeho had only gotten up to go to the bathroom once with Taeyang’s help but had been too dizzy to move aside from that. He had also refused to eat all day because he had no appetite and his throat hurt, so his fever was still raging despite Taeyang’s attempt at bringing it down with cold compresses. Keeho was upset at the older for ratting him out to their maknaes nonetheless. “You knew that you weren’t doing what was best for you. Now the pressure’s on. Be a good role model and take care of yourself”, Taeyang shrugged, earning a glare that turned out quite pathetic with the glossy look in Keeho’s eyes.

Taeyang had forced himself to eat some plain rice for lunch, which had taken quite a bit of discipline because his nose was plugged and he felt like suffocating when he tried to eat but he had really wanted to take some medicine for his headache. “We’ll be making some soup for dinner”, Jongseob informed, “You should really eat something, hyungs. Can we get you anything before that?” Keeho thanked them hoarsely but denied needing anything. Though Taeyang felt bad to have the maknaes make dinner by themselves, he knew he’d only pass on his germs if he helped them cook.

Keeho had gone back to sleep mere minutes after his dongsaengs had checked on them but Taeyang was awake, giving Shota a small smile when the younger brought them a bottle of water each. He wanted to go to sleep too because his eyes were so tired but he knew he should at least have dinner. Dabbing at his eyes, Taeyang laid down and put in one earphone, so he’d still hear when someone came in. He was glad someone else was home now too, even if it were the two youngest members because Keeho’s condition had truly scared him earlier and he hadn’t been able to relax in the slightest. Now that he finally allowed himself to take a breather because someone else would be checking on their leader, he felt all his symptoms stronger. Oh, what an amazing drug adrenaline could be….

Taeyang’s head throbbed when he opened his eyes. Jiung sat on the edge of the bed, smiling: “Hey, I’m sorry to wake you. You look like you really needed that sleep but dinner’s ready and I brought you medicine.” – “Thanks”, the oldest sniffled, sitting up with some struggle, “Hadn’t meant to fall asleep, sorry.” – “No need to apologize for taking a rest when you’re not feeling well”, Jiung frowned, brushing his fingers against the other’s forehead, “How’re you feeling? And I want the truth please.” Rubbing at his face, Taeyang gave a thick sniffle. His eyes watered as he tried to hold eye contact, admitting: “Exhausted. My eyes are so tired and sticky, my nose won’t stop running and my balance is off. It’s not like I’m dizzy or anything but my sinuses are so full, my whole head is fuzzy.” – “You should really take some of that decongestant I brought. Might help you breathe a little easier and bring back your balance”, Jiung hummed, “You can go and join the others for dinner, I’ll wake up Keeho.” – “Uhm, could you- could you maybe bring me some dinner once the rest of you is done eating?”, Taeyang mumbled hesitantly, “My eyes are really sensitive, anything brighter than it is in here is painful and makes them water even more.” Wincing in sympathy, Jiung nodded and got up to check on Keeho first.

They had thought that Keeho was asleep but when Jiung approached the bed, he realized that their leader looked way too tense for someone who’s sleeping. “Oh, you’re up”, the younger noted, “How’re you feeling?” Glancing up at Jiung, Keeho cleared his throat and croaked: “I’m cold an’ everything hurts.” – “Yeah, you’re burning”, the younger commented, pressing the backs of his fingers against the leader’s cheek. The cold compress had mostly warmed up by now and Jiung figured Taeyang had taken away Keeho’s blanket to keep him from overheating. “Has your fever been this bad before we left this morning?”, he frowned, remembering how the older hadn’t shared the number just that it was higher than expected. Slightly shaking his head, Keeho breathed: “I felt so sore and couldn’t stop coughing, so I thought I’d treat myself to a long, hot shower. Bad mistake. It felt nice while I was in the shower but it wasn’t worth it. Everything went to shit afterwards.” – “You can have some fever reducers once there’s some food in your stomach and they should help with the pain too. Maybe if your fever goes down enough, you can have a blanket, yeah?”, Jiung smiled sympathetically, “You wanna come and join us or eat here with Taeyang?” – “Here please, ‘m too dizzy an’ it’s too bright”, Keeho rasped, closing his eyes again.

While Jiung went to the kitchen to get each of the elders a bowl of soup, Intak slipped into the darkened room, placing a fresh box of tissues onto Taeyang’s nightstand and a bag of cough drops on Keeho’s. Shota and Jongseob had overheard that their hyungs didn’t want to leave their room because it was too bright, so they retrieved some decoration from the wardrobe in the hallway and already started to set some of it up while they waited for Jiung and Intak to be ready to eat dinner with them. They placed candles on the coffee and dining table, stringing up fairylights to all over the living room and kitchen. Shota found two lanterns, which he set up in the hallway to make it easier to find the way to the bathroom. When Jiung gave them a questioning look, Jongseob explained: “In case they feel lonely or bored and want to join us in the living room or if they need something from the kitchen during the night, so they find their way without having to turn on the ceiling lights.” Though he found the gesture sweet, Jiung doubted either of the eldest would feel up to getting out of bed anytime soon. “I’ll let them know their welcome to join us for a movie later, yeah?”, he offered, “If you’re done, go and eat, I’ll be right back.”

Since their bedroom was a little cramped trying to fit four people, Jiung, Intak, Shota and Jongseob hung out in the living room after dinner, watching TV and scrolling through their phones when they heard shuffling in the hallway. Keeho felt a little better now that the medicine had brought down his fever and he really wanted to spend at least some time with the group. He wasn’t as dizzy anymore and his headache was bearable, so he figured he’d join the rest for a movie. Taeyang didn’t necessarily trust the leader to walk there by himself though and sighed: “I don’t think I’ll be able to look at the TV screen but I don’t want to stay here alone, so let’s go together, I guess.” He handed Keeho a blanket because he was still shivering. Wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, Keeho popped a cough drop between his lips. He still felt cold though it wasn’t as painful as it had been earlier and he hoped the blanket would fix the remaining chills. Taeyang stuffed some tissues into his pockets before linking arms with Keeho, so they could venture out into the living room.

Jiung had told them their maknaes had decorated but they surely hadn’t expected it to be so cozy. Shota smiled when he spotted them, patting the spot next to him. Keeho smiled at him but didn’t want to get too close. Logically, he knew that he had shared a room with the two youngest the previous night, so if they were to catch his cold, the damage would’ve already been done but it didn’t feel right to him. “Feeling any better?”, Intak asked softly, as he watched the leader take a seat on the other couch. Keeho nodded as he got settled, Taeyang laying down with his head in the leader’s lap. Picking up a pillow to placed beneath the other’s head, Keeho smiled: “The medicine’s working for now and it’s really cozy out here, so I thought a change of scenery would be lovely.” – “I don’t think I can watch a movie because my eyes are still sore but I can’t leave this guy unsupervised or else he will get himself in trouble, so…”, Taeyang muttered, getting comfortable. Giving an embarrassed laugh, Keeho ran his fingers through the other’s hair and frowned: “It was one mistake, one, and I thought I was doing the right thing.” – “Taking a hot shower, refusing to eat, barely drinking enough water, not being able to take medicine because you didn’t eat, do you want me to keep going?”, Taeyang sniffled, “You’re feeling better now because you took medicine, guess what, you could’ve had that a long time ago. Don’t freaking scare me like that again.” It was only then that Keeho realized how genuinely worried the older was for him and he whispered an apology for not taking care of himself enough. With how exhausted Taeyang was, it barely took any time at all till he drifted off to Keeho playing with his hair. He couldn’t even remember which movie the group had decided to watch, just that he was comfy and finally able to relax.

#fanfic #fluff #comfort #fanfiction #sick #sickfic #p1harmony #flufftober2023 #flufftober

21 notes · View notes

general--winter · 1 year

Text

uchiha shisui x reader - get some sleep

author's note: I promise I am working on requests, but holy shit I love Shisui so much. There's not enough content for me to be satisfied, so I think it's my job to provide. Please take this vent fic about my insomnia and my long distance relationship where I wish I could cuddle with my partner to sleep like this :(

rating: general

fandom: naruto

pairings: uchiha shisui x gn!reader

word count: 2288

warnings: insomnia

summary: You haven't gotten a good night's rest in weeks, and your roommate (secret crush, actually!) takes notice. You try to keep yourelf under control, but the sleep deprivation catches up to you.

The back of your eyelids are supposed to be the best thing you look at every day. Most people spend one third of their lives looking at it, so how could it possibly be so hard for you to enjoy it?

Your whiny grunt echoed throughout the eerily quiet and dark room, the sound of shuffling sheets ricocheting off of every surface imaginable while you adjusted your sleeping position yet again. Their slipping noise might as well have been as loud as standing next to a damn waterfall, because it made your eyes snap open for the umpteenth time that night. Accompanied by a throbbing headache and a parched mouth, you resigned yourself to a while longer with no sleep and padded your way into the kitchen of your apartment.

3:28 read the clock while you poured yourself a glass of water from the almost-empty filter. Fuck, had you seriously been awake and aware that entire time? Catching the clock in your room throughout the night at 12:50, 1:36, 2:47, or even 3:04 convinced you that yes, you couldn’t sleep. Again.

How long has it been since you’ve gotten more than one or two hours of fitful rest at night? A week, at least. Your sanity was practically caffeine and a prayer strung together with kiddie glue and ninety-nine cent store twine. At first you thought it was work. Five back-to-back A rank missions would ruin any jonin’s month, especially if you flubbed the last one for your team due to lacking the coordination necessary. But even after you were given the next three weeks off by the new Hokage, a friend of yours by the name of Kakashi, it was as if sleep was even harder to come by.

You figured maybe it was a jutsu of some kind that an enemy had been able to place on you, but Sakura was personally able to confirm you were not under any sort of chakra influence at the hospital. She was able to prescribe a medication to help you sleep while you waited for a formal appointment on the matter, but when you got back to your room, you gazed at the half-empty bottle in disappointment. All that did is give me the migraine of my life, you thought, wincing at the pain that was no longer there. You had headaches every night after laying fitfully on your pillows for hours on end, but you could have sworn that one had you dying, nauseous and wanting to murder the sun and every bird that started chirping that morning.

A door on the other end of your apartment gently made a noise, something you definitely didn’t expect. Your breathing became rapid as you sat on the edge of your bed, waiting to see if you heard anything else. You weren’t in a state to fight at all, and your roommate, Shisui Uchiha, somehow slept like a fucking log when he wasn’t on a mission. Your face contorted into a scowl. Sure, Shisui was nice, you considered him among your closest friends, and you maybe had the slightest crush on him, but this already smelled rotten of a half-baked scheme. But there’s no way you woke him up in the middle of the night, right?

Knock, knock, knock!

The sound of your own bedroom door being gently tapped made you jump and wind up a fist, ready to see who would come through, daring to invade your home.

“Are you alright in there?” a gentle voice you recognized immediately sounded through the thick wood.

You had woken your roommate and secret crush, Shisui, up. Somehow. You’d been so quiet, too, at least you thought. Why was he up? Or was he never asleep?

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you responded in a rasp through the door. “Just had to grab some water. Forgot to take a glass with me to bed.”

He made a noise of confirmation. “Sounds like you need it. Jeez. You were stumbling through the kitchen like a bull in a pottery shop.”

“Is there anything you need?” you pointedly asked. I’d like to get back to kicking and whining in bed.

“I actually can’t sleep. You want to hang out for a little while?” Shisui proposed through the door.

An odd development. Shisui of the Body Flicker, one of the strongest shinobi in Konoha, was to your knowledge, the heaviest sleeper you’d ever met.

“No, I’m okay.”

“Come on, not gonna help a friend out?”

Ugh. He’s gonna pull this.

You swung the door into your room to greet him. From above, Shisui was giving you a pout and serious puppy dog eyes. His black locks were smushed in on one side, making a small mound of hair. And looking at his eyes, they were cutely puffed up from lack of sleep. This man was too adorable for his own good. You wanted to reach your hand out to smooth his hair, and you almost did in your sleep-deprived state.

“Guilting me, huh?” you instead said.

“You know you can’t resist.” He threw a lopsided grin your way.

“No, I can’t,” you grumbled. You took your full glass and stumbled out of your room. The lamp had been flicked on, bathing the simple common room in a warm, yellow light. Vaguely, you recognized that splashes of water were tipping over your cup and hitting the rug.

In one swift motion, Shisui took a seat on the couch and draped his arm over the top, inviting you to sit next to him. You took him up, grabbing the remote on your way. Ah, you wondered, he probably just wants to watch more television and didn’t want to disturb me.

A year or two ago, due to the many scientific alliances and treaties between the great shinobi nations, technology and communications developed at a rapid pace. One of these new inventions, television, provided entertainment in the homes of the masses via video. The television could show the viewer anything that was filmed with cameras; it looked like you were actually somewhere you were not. And well, your roommate had developed a habit of watching various nature documentaries in his down time. For the cute animals.

“Do you wanna watch Kiri Geographic?” Shisui snatched the remote from your hands and flicked on the television. “I’m going to put it on anyway, but what I’m asking is if you’ll be interested or if you’ll whine the entire time.”

“No, no,” you muttered. “Sounds like a good plan.”

The channel flicked on. On the screen, images of various sea creatures that lived in the Land of Water were shown. You registered some seals preying on penguins. The storylines of these shows really were ridiculous, the narrator always took the side of the prey, but what about the seal? Doesn’t he have to eat? Why does no one ever…

You jolted up automatically as your muscles lost control of themselves; your body began to slump towards the man sitting next to you. The smell of rosewood wafted to your nose and shocked your entire system when you realized your head had almost plopped straight onto his chest. Shit. I wouldn’t have been able to recover from that.

“All good there?” Shisui asked, not peeling his eyes from the television. You thought you caught a glint in his eye.

“Um… yeah, I’m okay. I just…” you started, your voice drifting off. You hated bothering Shisui with your issues, no matter how big or small. Unfortunately, he was persistent, and your brain was immensely foggy.

“Just what?” He lowered his arm to your shoulders, making your entire body stiffen like a wooden board. The simple motion sucked all of the breath out of your lungs and caused your heart to skip a beat. There was no reply to muster.

“Seriously, (Y/N), use your words. Something’s up with you.” Shisui threw another grin at you.

Why is he acting so damn flirty tonight? you wondered. Sure, the two of you teased each other all of the time, but not like this…

“I, uh. I think I’m getting sleepy out here, so I’m gonna go back to my room,” you lied through your teeth, springing up and away from Shisui’s touch. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And don’t feel bad about the television, it won’t keep me up.” No, my dumb fucking body is doing that just fine.

“Your body is keeping you awake?” Shisui flicked off the program, leaning forward towards you. Had you just said your thoughts aloud? Fuck. It sure didn’t feel like it. In embarrassment, you scampered back to your room, the Uchiha hot on your heels.

A feeble attempt to shut your door was met by Shisui’s calloused hand on the edge, boxing you in. The warm light filtered into your dark room around the corner.

“Can I come in?” he gently asked, his soft eyes looking down at you.

I don’t want to bother him but… I think he wants to help, your brain struggles. On one hand, it’s totally mortifying to imagine telling Shisui any of the problems that had plagued you for the past weeks. But your body had enough of this. It made the decision for you, hijacking your brain.

“Yes, you can come in. Please help.”

Giving up, you opened the door further for him, immediately getting into your double bed to hide under the covers. Shisui took a seat on the edge, his eyes softly looking down at you.

“I know everything from Lady Tsunade and Sakura-san,” he said in his smooth and relaxing voice. “You can’t fall asleep. Nothing’s working.”

“Why would they tell you?” you questioned back with an unintended amount of venom. “I was about to tell you anyway.”

“They know how stubborn you are. Kakashi had to force you to take off for the next few weeks, yeah?”

Dramatically, you turned your face into your pillow and let out a groan.

“Okay, so what? What are you gonna do about it?” You turned to face Shisui.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” he proposed with a soft look on his face. Shit. His expression was oozing with concern, with fondness, with… love? It swayed you. Drew out a deep, repressed desire of yours. You drew up the corner of your comforter and scooted over.

“Lay… with me?”

Fuck. Why would I do that? you scolded in your head. I’m such an idiot, I’m so stupid, he would never—

“Of course,” he whispered, laying next to you.

Your head emptied of thoughts. Shisui was laying down next to you. Your roommate. Your friend. Your crush. His warmth and smell encapsulated you. You were drunk on it, your mind hazed. In a moment of what you would call ‘brilliance’ nowadays (but at the time it was more so a moment of ‘idiocy’), you decided to wrap your arms around Shisui and bury your head in his shoulder blades, relishing in the texture of his cotton bed shirt on your face. He laughed lightly, and you could feel the vibration on your cheek.

“You wanna cuddle? Is that going to help you sleep?” Shisui teased. You knew that this is incredibly out of character. But you were delusional from lack of sleep. If Shisui could get you to fall asleep, then you were going to kill two birds with one stone— finally sleep and show your feelings to Shisui Uchiha.

“It’s not. But I figured it would be comfortable.”

This drew another laugh from him. He spun around and you were now laying against his shoulder, the rest of your body flush with Shisui’s. From under you, his arm came and wrapped around your waist. The view of his face was foreign. Up close, he was incredibly handsome. You could see every detail of his lashes, every shadow that wisped around his eyes. It caused your heart to flutter uncontrollably.

“Hmm, comfortable. Laying against me? I might get the wrong idea if you keep saying things like that.”

“No, I think you’ll be getting the right idea.”

“We can talk about this in the morning” he whispered, his other hand reaching up to brush a stray piece of hair from your face and rest palm-down on your cheek. His scent washed over you. You were positive he could feel your heart racing there.

“But I think I know how to help you sleep. Only for one night, but getting one night of normal rest might help you get back into the rhythm,” Shisui spoke gently to you, his black eyes meeting your own in the dim light of your room.

“And what would that be?” you questioned, voice slurring with exhaustion. You could barely focus on anything but how beautiful his eyes were.

“I can put you under a genjutsu. It will put you to sleep without fail.”

“Really?” you asked, elated. In an instant, you were nuzzled into his shoulder, arms wrapped around his lithe frame. “Can you at least stay here with me? After I fall asleep?”

“Yes,” Shisui laughed. “I can stay here. Now look into my eyes, okay?”

You obliged without question, the thought of cuddling with Shisui all night and finally getting a night of rest overwhelming you. His eyes focused on yours. So softly, so lovingly. You gazed right back with a similar expression. Red filled your gaze. Shisui’s Sharingan. The tomoe spun slowly, hypnotically. You were enraptured. Shisui hugged you against him tightly but ever so gently. His scent comforted you. His legs wrapped around your own. You were safe. You were secure. You were protected. And your eyelids, heavy with sleep, closed. Shisui finally bestowed upon you true, blissful sleep.

#naruto #naruto x reader #naruto fanfiction #uchiha shisui x reader #uchiha shisui #one shot #im in my shisui era don't disturb me im getting enrichment time in my enclosure

99 notes · View notes

p1zzabrainz · 1 year

Note

Oh geeze it's the same guy on the building i wonder if he's the one who owns the place? Maybe try and see if there's anywhere you can talk to someone there, i imagine you probably need some food and water in you having been outside for a week.

" ..I.. to be honest, i haven't really felt 'hungry' or 'thirsty' since i woke up. it's only been a lot of.. throbbing headaches.. and.. no, yknow, that's about it actually. "

" Maybe it's the lack of sleep talking, but i really can't recall a 'need' for anything recently. i'll take a look around to find someone, but this place looks pretty barren.. "

#pizza tower #pizza tower game #fake peppino #pizzahead #pizzaface #ask blog #asks open #pizza tower askblog #anonymous

32 notes · View notes

wigglesforsquiggles · 5 months

Note

HI WIGGLES!! How was your week beloved? :D

hellooo rain my beloved time does not exist to me im so sorry i missed the ask 😔😔

this week has been super chill!! i finished all the work i needed to do on like. tuesday. so i’ve just been capital c Chilling these past few days. very pleasant

i am currently watching the fa final w my family so i am minorley distracted. i can’t spell minorly. minerly. a bit distracted. that will have to do.

i woke up at 4am today (briefly) to watch the f1. i will tell u i did fall asleep midway through bc i decided it wasn’t interesting enough for me to justify staying awake on 3h sleep. i was also in bed watching it so. sleep was calling

i have also had a few headaches this week. i am guessing bc of lack of water (i have been slacking in my water consumption smh) but it’s wild bc i like never get headaches. i sit there and go ‘what is this pain. where does it come from. oh! head’

so ye. week good. i’m enjoying life. apologies for the late ask and i hope u have a Banger weekend rain

#wiggles asks #hi rain :D #i was walking in my kitchen to get some water (headache) and suddenly went ‘ITS SATURDAY’#i said to my sister today ‘i keep thinking it’s friday today’ which is deeply ironic

2 notes · View notes

feverishly-kpop · 2 years

Text

Ateez Performance Line - Part 7

Hongjoong sat on the couch with a large, strong coffee in one hand and his head in the other. He had been up late getting Wooyoung back to sleep after getting his headache and subsequent nausea under control, only for Seonghwa to approach him nervously, advising that Yunho’s fever had spiked to quite a concerning degree. After getting him into a cool shower, having him take some fever reducers, smothering him in compresses, and checking his temperature several times to confirm that he didn’t need to be rushed to the hospital, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Jongho had finally gotten Yunho comfortable enough to get a bit of rest.

With Wooyoung and Yunho settled in for the night, Hongjoong once again knocked on Mingi’s door softly.

“Mingi please let me in” Hongjoong called softly. “Or at least tell me what’s going on.” He waited for a response but was told the same thing he had been told hours ago the first time he tried to check in on his dongsaeng.

“I’m fine, hyung. A bit under the weather but I’m just going to sleep it off” Mingi said, his voice sounding strained. Hongjoong was about to respond when Mingi added definitively, “goodnight, Hongjoong-hyung.”

With that, Hongjoong had retired to the couch, genuinely unsure where else to sleep. Seonghwa was back in San’s bed hoping that Yunho had worn himself out enough to sleep through the rest of the night, Yeosang was in Seonghwa’s bed where he’d been for nearly a week watching over Wooyoung, and Hongjoong wanted to be available to everyone, especially to Mingi in the event he decided to come out of his room.

He managed to get a couple hours of sleep there before being woken by Seonghwa exiting Yunho’s room around 5:30 AM and plopping down on the other side of the couch.

“Please call the doctor today. He woke up again, twice, after we put him to bed. The nightmares never end and he’s not getting any better since he’s not able to get any meaningful rest” Seonghwa said, the exhaustion heavy in his voice. “I can barely think straight from the lack of sleep and I’m not even the one that’s sick. He needs something to get him to sleep.”

Hongjoong nodded sadly, feeling sympathy for both Yunho and Seonghwa as he texted management asking for the doctor to come back for a visit, adding that Yunho needed a sleep aid and that Mingi was now amongst the ranks of the sick.

“Why don’t you go get some rest in Yeosang’s bed?” Hongjoong offered to Seonghwa. “Jongho and San are still sleeping in there.”

Seonghwa was poised to argue, but Hongjoong reminded him that he had managed to close his eyes for a few hours whereas Seonghwa had been woken up multiple times.

“I’ll be right here if anybody needs me” Hongjoong added as Seonghwa dragged his feet tiredly off to get some sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~

Mingi had hardly managed to get any sleep that night either, instead finding himself tossing and turning, trying to settle his stomach. He hated showing vulnerability in front of the members, especially after his hiatus. Showing weakness felt like the fastest way to become a liability to the team. It was easier for him to suffer behind closed doors than to admit that he needed help.

He was about to sneak into the bathroom when he overheard the conversation between Hongjoong and Seonghwa. With Yunho as sick as he was, Mingi couldn’t bear the thought of causing the team additional stress, opting instead to return to bed.

Mingi soon found himself being woken up by a knock at his door. He wasn’t sure what time it was, how long he had been asleep, but it was obvious to him that he wasn’t feeling any better than when he woke up last earlier that morning.

He slowly sat up in bed, trying to fight through the dizziness so he could unlock and open the door. He had been expecting one of his hyungs, but instead found the team’s doctor waiting for him, causing him to sigh. Lying to Hongjoong and Seonghwa about his condition was one thing. But he couldn’t be dishonest with their physician. He reminded Mingi way too much of his own father.

“Your hyungs said that you aren’t feeling so well but that you won’t tell them what’s wrong.” They had been working with the same doctor since before they debuted and, over the years, he’d come to know all the members pretty well, so it came as absolutely no surprise to him that Mingi was refusing help. “Mind if I come in?” He asked kindly, waiting for Mingi to nod before leading him back to bed.

“It’s really nothing. I’m just tired. Busy with work, but I’m resting now” Mingi replied as the doctor sat him down.

“Ahh yes, Hongjoong said that you’d say that” he replied, placing his palm to Mingi’s forehead. “But this fever would indicate otherwise. He also told me that you promised that you were taking care of yourself. Is there something I should know? Anything we discuss is confidential, of course. Your hyungs don’t need to know.”

Mingi cast his gaze down, too ashamed to meet his doctor’s eyes. “We had an important deadline…” Mingi said awkwardly, knowing that there was no adequate excuse for working himself to the bone despite being explicitly instructed to look after himself.

“I’m not here to lecture you today, Mingi. There’s nothing I can say that you haven’t been told a dozen times or more.” His words stung, mostly because Mingi knew that he was absolutely correct. “Let’s focus on getting you back on your feet and we can circle back to the details once you’re feeling better.”

Mingi nodded as the doctor placed the thermometer under his tongue, taking his pulse as they waited for his temperature to register. As it beeped the doctor swiftly grabbed it, updating the reading on his iPad. Once he had finished taking the rest of Mingi’s vitals, he pulled back the covers, helping Mingi lie back down comfortably.

“I’m fairly confident that you have the same virus as Wooyoung and Yunho” the doctor advised, jotting down some additional notes on his iPad. “Are you feeling nauseous at all?”

“I was, but not as much anymore” Mingi replied, much to the doctor’s satisfaction.

“I’m going to write you a few prescriptions, something to bring the fever down, and something for nausea in case it comes back. I’ll have your manager pick them up from the pharmacy later this afternoon. You’re to rest until your fever breaks.” Mingi nodded, thanking the doctor as he exited his room. “One more thing before I go,” he added, turning to face Mingi. “There’s no shame in letting somebody care for you. You’re sick, and your only job now is to rest and get well. Let your team help you do that. And let’s start by keeping this unlocked, okay?” He gestured to the door as he opened it, leaving Mingi to rest.

*~*~*~*~*~

Hongjoong and Seonghwa had been waiting patiently on the couch as the doctor made his rounds, checking on the three sick dancers. As he closed Mingi’s door softly behind him, they sat up expectantly.

“Wooyoung’s doing much better. If his headache persists just keep pushing the pain meds. His fever should break within the next day, but I’d like for him to rest until he’s temperature has been back to normal for 24 hours. I know it’s been up and down so it’s best to be cautious” he advised Hongjoong and Seonghwa, who nodded along attentively. “And, if you were wondering, I told Wooyoung the same thing, so don’t let him try and talk his way out of it!” They couldn’t help but laugh at that, all three of them knowing exactly how Wooyoung would be once his brain wasn’t addled by his fever.

“Yunho, what to do with that boy…” the doctor continued. “He needs sleep. And a lot of it. I’m going to send a prescription through for a sleep aid. Let him rest for as long as his body needs, no need to wake him to eat or drink once he’s taken the medication. If his temperature doesn’t start coming back down we are going to have to consider the hospital, but I don’t think it will come to that. Sleep will do wonders for him at this point.” The doctor handed Seonghwa the name of the sleep aid that was being prescribed along with the instructions. Seonghwa looked it over, quickly confirming that he understood everything clearly.

“Mingi, well you know how Mingi is. We’ve discussed his condition and his plan of care, so I’ll leave it at that for now. You two can discuss that with him once I’ve left. But I sent through some prescriptions for him as well. And I’ve confirmed with your manager that he’ll be able to pick everything up for the boys this afternoon.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa walked the doctor to the door, thanking him again for calling on them and closing the door behind them.

Hongjoong poked his head in on Wooyoung, who was fast asleep with Yeosang and San also dozing off in the other bed. The sight brought a smile to Hongjoong’s face, happy that his dongsaeng was finally on the mend.

Seonghwa, meanwhile, quietly opened Yunho’s door, finding Yunho sitting against his headboard looking uncomfortable and fidgety as Jongho sat at the foot of the bed, doing his best to get his hyung to relax a bit with a random story. “Sorry to interrupt, but manager-hyung will be by in a bit with some medication that’s going to get you to sleep. The doctor said you’ll start feeling a lot better once you’ve been able to rest properly.” Yunho muttered an exhausted “thank you” as Jongho launched back into his story.

Feeling confident that Wooyoung and Yunho were taken care of for the time being, Hongjoong and Seonghwa made silent eye contact before both glancing toward Mingi’s door at the end of the hallway. Taking a deep breath, Seonghwa proceeded to knock on the door before opening it, finding Mingi in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Hey,” Seonghwa said gently. “I think we need to talk, are you up to it?”

#kpop sickfic #kpop fluff #ateez fluff #ateez sickfic #sickfic #ateez #yunho #yunho sick #sick wooyoung #wooyoung #mingi #mingi sick #wooyoung fluff #yunho fluff #mingi fluff #Wooyoung sickfic #Yunho sickfic #Mingi sickfic

22 notes · View notes

sneezyminniejo · 2 years

Note

Can you make a fic based on when Beomgyu wasn't feeling well and left in the middle of the interview? You can choose if you want it to be emeto, cold, etc.

Here it is. Hope you enjoy

TW EMETO

Missed Concert

Tomorrow x Together was currently touring in the US. All five men were having a little trouble with adjusting to the twelve or so hour time difference. They were all fairly used to having sleepless schedules at the beginning of comebacks, but their circadian rhythms have all been thrown out of whack because their bodies were telling them it was time to sleep, even though it was mid morning.

Beomgyu seemed to be having the most trouble adjusting to the time difference. The group has been in the US nearly a week and everyone except for Beomgyu have been able to get back into a semi-regular sleep pattern. Last night, the third oldest managed around two hours of sleep. He had spent the majority of the night tossing and turning. At one point he found himself jealously watching Soobin sleep, who was knocked out by eleven.

It was probably five in the morning by the time Beomgyu finally fell asleep. He woke up to Soobin shaking his shoulder. "Time is it?" Beomgyu tiredly asked as he hugged one of the pillows closer to himself.

"It's a quarter past seven. We leave at eight for an interview, so you need to get up and get ready." Beomgyu groaned and tried to push his body further into the bed. He really wished he could get some more sleep. The next thing he knew, the leader was pulling his arm, slowly dragging him out of the bed. “Coffee’s almost done Gyu and manager-nim dropped off some breakfast sandwiches for us.” Soobin said as Beomgyu slowly got up.

Beomgyu sat down at the small circular table and Soobin handed him a mug of coffee and placed some creamer on the table as well. Beomgyu was too tired to bother with the creamer and instead downed the coffee black.

“Didn’t sleep again?” Soobin asked. Beomgyu shook his head in response.

"I don't get it. Jet lag wasn't this bad for me last time." Beomgyu complained as he rubbed his temples. The lack of sleep was beginning to give him a headache. Soobin saw this and went to his bag to grab some ibuprofen. He grabbed a couple tablets and handed them to the younger and nudged the sandwich closer to him as well.

"Eating might make you feel better." Soobin waited to make sure Beomgyu actually took the medicine then left the room to make sure the other three were awake.

Beomgyu unwrapped the sandwich then realized he wasn't feeling very hungry. However, he knew that Soobin was probably correct in thinking that eating something will make him feel better. He somewhat reluctantly began eating his breakfast while he scrolled through his phone. Beomgyu’s appetite wasn’t very big and he only managed to eat about half of his sandwich before he needed to get dressed to leave.

Four of the five members were in the car, and Beomgyu had managed to get the front passenger seat. Taehyun had apparently slept through Kai and Yeonjun having breakfast and getting dressed and only woke up when the oldest literally poured a glass of water on his face. Needless to say this caused the group to be running five minutes late in getting on the road to where they were having the interview.

Beomgyu found himself uncomfortably dozing off before Taehyun had even gotten in the car. He was tired and he’s pretty sure he ate more than his body was willing to tolerate, as he was developing a stomach ache. His head was kind of laying on the seat belt, when Taehyun entered the car, waking him again. As soon as Taehyun had his seat belt buckled, the manager started the car.

It was only a couple of minutes later that Beomgyu was beginning to feel a bit suffocated in the car. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was nerves about the interview, jet lag, or the sheer lack of sleep he’s been getting. He just knew that he needed to get out of the car and get some air. As soon as the car was stopped at a traffic light, Beomgyu hopped out of the car. “Sorry, the car is making me fall asleep and I don’t want my eyes to be puffy during the interview. I’m just going to walk.” Beomgyu half lied. Although he didn’t really care as he was already feeling a little better. He took out his phone and plugged in the name of the company they were interviewing with. Beomgyu began to walk in the direction of the building As he was walking, he was trying to will his body to cooperate and hoped that he wouldn’t fall asleep or zone out too heavily during the interview.

Thankfully the company wasn’t actually too far away from the hotel, so he arrived about eight minutes after the rest of the group. “Gyu-yah, are you feeling more awake, or do you think you need to sit out of the interview today?” Soobin asked.

Beomgyu gave a slight smile and nodded. “I’m feeling more awake. I just needed to get blood pumping.” It wasn’t a total lie. He was definitely feeling more alert and some of the discomfort in his stomach had gone away, but he still wasn’t feeling great. However, he was certain that he’d be able to get through the interview, then he could decide whether or not to nap before having to do the sound check. Beomgyu then followed a staff member to the green room to get his hair and makeup done.

As with most schedules, the group spent roughly forty five minutes waiting before it was time for the interview to start. Beomgyu found himself drinking from a bottle of water during this time, and was trying to keep himself from externally wincing as his group mates’ energy levels increased as they woke up. While the pain meds from earlier had taken away his head ache, his members were just a bit too much for him right now when all his body wanted was to be in bed.

The interview had barely started and Beomgyu was realizing that he probably should have stayed at the hotel. He suddenly felt like he was either going to pass out or puke. He wasn’t sure which, but he definitely knew that he didn’t want to do it on camera. He was trying to ignore the sensation, but realistically, he knew that he wasn’t going to last to the end of the interview. He quickly tapped on Soobin’s knee a bit more forcefully than intended before getting up and leaving the set for the green room.

Instead of going to the green room, Beomgyu decided to make a beeline for the bathroom, which was a little bit farther down the hall. He ran into the first stall as he quickly came to the realization that he did in fact need to be sick. Beomgyu knelt over the toilet and began to breathe a bit heavily as he waited for his stomach to expel its contents.

He only had to wait for around a minute before his mouth began to fill with saliva. It wasn’t much longer after that that Beomgyu’s stomach contracted, and a mouthful of liquid splashed into the toilet. He spent the next minute or so emptying his stomach of the undigested part of what little he ate for breakfast. He mostly threw up the bottle of water he had drunk before the interview. When he had finished, he spent another minute just catching his breath. He sat back against the door of the stall to collect himself before getting up. He washed his hands and then went back to the green room. He grabbed another water bottle and rinsed his mouth before spitting into a nearby trash can. He then went to the couch to lie down until the interview was over and he could go back to the hotel.

The interview wrapped up after an hour, and needless to say, the four men that weren’t Beomgyu were a little concerned. Soobin had apologized to the interviewer for the younger leaving, but couldn’t really give much of an explanation as to why he had left. They all had initially thought that he had quickly left to use the toilet, but when he hadn’t returned, they just had to continue the interview without him. All four men were aware that he hadn’t been sleeping well the past week, but he had never mentioned not feeling well, so they were just hoping that he was okay.

Yeonjun was the first one to enter the green room and he immediately honed in on Beomgyu’s sleeping figure. The eldest began shaking the younger awake as the other three were collecting their things before heading to the concert venue. “Beomgyu-yah. It’s time to go to the concert venue for sound check.” Beomgyu groaned as he stretched.

Beomgyu sat up and began rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Only to abruptly stand up and run to the trash bin that was located in one of the corners of the room. He spent a good minute puking up water and stomach acid before he began dry heaving. At one point he felt one of his members place one hand on his back and the other on his forehead, but he was far too preoccupied to try and see who it was. Once he felt like he was done, he sat down on the floor and placed his head in his hands.

“Are you feeling any better hyung?” Kai asked. Beomgyu shook his head and then stood up.

“I didn’t even realize I was sick until I had to leave the interview. I thought it was just jet lag and lack of sleep.” He accepted a water bottle from Taehyun and rinsed his mouth out. The group then went to the van.

“We don’t have time to run you back to the hotel, so you’re just going to have to come with us for sound check. Okay?” Soobin asked. The leader looked fairly apologetic about it, but the group was on a fairly tight schedule for the day. Beomgyu nodded and wrapped his arms around his middle as he tried to get comfortable in the van.

Beomgyu had obviously not participated in sound check. He was a little bit glad that sound check tickets hadn’t been sold for this particular concert, because he didn’t want word spreading that he was going to be absent coming from the fans. He had been in the green room the entire time scrolling through his phone. Their manager had made arrangements for medical staff to give Beomgyu a quick check up while he ordered some food for the five men. The medical staff had determined that he potentially had a stomach bug and that he needed rest. He also had a slight fever, but it wasn’t anything to be concerned about. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to go back to the hotel until after the concert, so he was going to be in the green room for quite a while.

Seeing as Beomgyu wasn’t going to be partaking in the concert, soundcheck took longer than it normally would have. The group had to walk through all of the blocking and part distributions for the lighting and sound guys. When the four men entered the green room, they found Beomgyu asleep while the manager was placing containers of food on the table. Taehyun and Kai both began to serve themselves, while Soobin woke up Beomgyu.

Beomgyu stretched awake and slowly sat up. The manager handed him a bowl of chicken soup and he stared at the food for several seconds before deciding to try to stomach it.

“What did medical say?” Soobin asked, wanting to know if there was anything he needed to know.

“They said it looks like a stomach bug, but that it could also be a combination of jet lag and stress. Either way they said that I need to rest.” He ate a couple more bites of soup before deciding he wanted to see how that settled. However, the lack of sleep was still very much catching up with him, so he wound up falling asleep while he waited to see if the soup would agree with him.

Beomgyu woke up almost a half hour later to the sensation of a very angry stomach. He barely had time to move his head over the side of the couch before he found himself puking for the third time that day. His stomach was apparently not okay with soup right now. Thankfully one of his members had the foresight to place a trash can next to where his head had been, so he hadn’t made a mess.

Beomgyu groaned as he sat up and took in the sympathetic looks of his members and the stylists that were currently working on getting them ready for the concert. “I really wish that I wasn’t sick, or at least that it was just a cold.” he complained. Beomgyu then grabbed his phone and saw that management had yet to make an announcement. He called their manager over to ask him why the announcement hadn’t been made yet, and the response was that they wanted to wait until they were a bit closer to the concert’s start time. However Beomgyu was free to announce it himself through weverse if he so pleased. The sick member decided to post an ever so cryptic “I’m sorry” before watching the chaos of his members getting ready and MOA responding to him trying to figure out what he was sorry for.

The announcement was put out roughly an hour later, and all five members were currently interacting with MOA on weverse. Beomgyu was doing more reading than interacting, while the others felt like messing with MOA a bit by telling one person they hadn’t seen Beomgyu since morning, only to tell another person that had seen Beomgyu five minutes ago and he was doing okay. They all laughed at the mass confusion this was causing because MOA couldn’t figure out if Beomgyu was at the hotel or not. Beomgyu had been sipping on a sports drink the entire time, hoping to at the very least replenish electrolytes if he couldn’t eat.

Beomgyu was feeling marginally better by the time the concert started, but that may have been in part because he spent the majority of the afternoon sleeping. He hadn’t thrown up again and he saw that as a win, but he wasn’t about to take any chances with eating any solid food.

Beomgyu was sad that he was missing the concert, but was made less miserable seeing the get well soon messages from MOA on weverse and knowing that his members were having fun on stage.

During the first outfit change Beomgyu was very much awake and Soobin checked in with him to see how he was feeling. The leader was glad to hear that he was feeling at least a little better. The leader grabbed his phone then whispered something to Beomgyu before getting dressed and heading back to the stage.

About fifteen minutes later Beomgyu’s phone rang and he answered it. It was a video call and Beomgyu was able to see how many people were in attendance at the concert. Soobin held his phone to the microphone while Beomgyu briefly spoke to MOA apologizing once again for getting sick and saying that he would do his best to get healthy for the next show.

#tomorrow x together #sickfic #emeto

17 notes · View notes

remycroft · 3 months

Text

Cross my Heart, Hope you Die || Heimdall X Reader

Chapter 9 - Call to wind

I woke up heavily confused.

The first thing that confused me was why I was in Baldur's chambers when I vividly remember passing out in the middle of a pavement. The only answer was that I was brought here. But by who? Did Forseti return and find me like that? Or did someone else, possibly Atreus? The thought of it being anyone other than Forseti or Atreus made a shiver run down my spine. I was so vulnerable. I could have been killed or worse.

The second thing that confused me was the fact that whoever it was who had found me had clearly healed my wound in their own special way. They had burned, what seemed like a split in my head from the impact, and my hair with it. I didn't care too much about my looks, but for the lack of humiliation, couldn't they have found a healer to do it for them? Or waited till I was up so I could do it myself.

The third thing wasn't exactly confusing, just annoying and overwhelming, the moment I got up and started getting ready I had noticed that the chambers had been cleaned from my consistent breakdowns over the past two weeks and then a servant came with a tray of food and water. "Eat and drink, please. You look like a ghost and the All-father would not like you to die yet." There was malice in her voice and I questioned whether it was poisoned. I had forgotten about the fact I hadn't eaten or drank. Normally I have to eat at least within a week before hunger kicks in, one of the negatives of being a demi-god, I had to remember. For the likes of Kratos and my mother they could last months, but I couldn't. They had served me what looked like stale bread and cheese, and a red apple which had mold at the bottom. I almost wanted to ask if they were serious but at this point within my fast I had to eat something. If it was poisoned, then I guess I'll have to force the poisons name out of them and get an antidote by any means necessary. Screw Odin's 'no harming Asgardian's' rule. I ate the food and drank, what turned out to be the lukewarm water. She left immediately. I looked around the space and sighed, I really don't want people in here while I'm sleeping, if they had just given me one day I would have had it cleaned. I suppose I may just have to stop sleeping and passing out so I don't get killed in my most vulnerable state.

I also don't want to be killed while I'm awake. That would just be humiliating. If I went down, I'd go down fighting. I would defend myself, Atreus, anyone who was innocent, till my final breath while I'm here and to do that, to be efficient in my skills. I didn't need to just train physically, I had to train my magic too.

In those years with my mother after Baldur's death she had me train both vigorously and then when my magic amounted to nothing, she screamed at me and told me to only focus on my skills with weapons as that was the only thing I was good at. So I did, but I wasn't good enough to actually beat Heimdall in single combat, and if I couldn't beat him, I couldn't defend Atreus from just a simple threat such as Heimdall who just bullied him, he's not Odin or Thor, who I know could do so much worse to him if they wanted to. I know I may not be able to face either of them and eliminate them but I could try and maybe give Atreus time to run. I also know that the only advantage Heimdall has on me was his strength and his ability to violate my mind and give me a massive headache.

To begin training I thought it best to improve on what I am weakest at, magic. So I cleaned myself, changed into decent clothes , grabbed my weapons and went to the library. I also thought it best to cover the bald spot by braiding my hair around it into a crown around my head, it wasn't just beneficial to me for vanity, it also kept my hair out of my eyes for later. I went searching for certain books and found all that was necessary; I looked for one on Asgardian history to find out more about my opponents, I doubt there is something about weaknesses but I could at least try, magic as a whole to learn more about the different kinds and what I can use, poisons and antidotes, just in case, creatures of the nine realms for I am somewhat aware some creatures carry ingredients to poisons and antidotes, I also needed to know , and Asgardian fighting techniques.

I found all of them. Although it was a lot more than just 5 books, I was interested in all areas. For example with magic I needed to know what I was capable of so I picked up four books for just magic. I ended up with fourteen and I didn't have anything to carry them in so I made use of my hands and jaw. I proceeded to leave after checking them with Bragi, the God of Literature and librarian of Asgard. He was skeptical but allowed it as he was 'moved by attitude to learning'. Well, if he decides to harm Atreus my attitude to learning will bite him in the ass. I was at the threshold of the library when Heimdall faced me, pushing himself off the wall and took a step toward me. "Now, what do you think you're doing?"

"Taking books to read until Atre - Loki, comes back from his lessons." I lied.

He picks the book on top of the pile, one of the volumes on poison, specifically on their styles. "Interesting, one could think, this would be useful for using against us."

"Then one would be a moron. I was ill for two weeks and I'm in enemy territory. One might think she was poisoned." I bit back, he scoffed and I knew he caught the lie, of course he did.

"Liar. Besides, if we wanted you dead, we wouldn't have to do it discreetly. You could be put to the sword or burned at the stake, like the witch you are." I recognised the emphasis, and I saw the jab at Freyr. It boiled my blood. "Do you want to know what I think?"

"No, but you're going to say it anyway."

"I think you're here to dismantle, to cause chaos. You are here to protect the brat, that is certain, despite the terrible job you're doing." I winced at the jab, "but I also think your traitor of a mother wants my home reduced to rubble, and you're here to help. That I will not allow!" And with that, he kicked my shin, and I plus the books toppled onto the floor. Despite the pain and burn that rippled throughout my body, I laughed. At this point, I only had one card up my sleeve, his ego.

"You really think I'd try something like that with you watching. I'm the Goddess of Logic, for Ymir' sake. I know not to do anything this explicit, even though causing chaos for you sounds like a lot of fun." I smirked at him and his eyes flashed, "I got them because I was genuinely curious to see if I was poisoned, I also wanted to try my best to help with the patrols I'm forced on with you. If I have a knowledge of the creatures outside the walls, I can maybe help keep new Midgard protected. They are my people as well." He looked like he had his entire perception changed and then reverted immediately.

"Maybe you do have a brain, or perhaps not. These won't be of much use to you though, the Einherjar protect them from the creatures outside, I only get involved in inter- fighting that causes death." He rolled his eyes like the entire thing was pointless and meaningless to him. It wasn't surprising. He wasn't like my mother or Freyr, who actually cared about mortals. He was one who believed the gods were above all. A true racist bigot. "I'll allow whatever this really is, for now. See how useful you may become." The ire in his words made me uncomfortable. He turned on his heel before turning his head to his shoulder, I saw the glint of purple of his eyes, a shard of the real gemstone, "See you at dusk."

After picking up all of the books and walking to willow tree, my entire body ached. I never wanted to do this again, but I could think of no alternative. Well, there is no alternative apart from magic to keep them preserved. I may as well start practising then.

I searched into the books for anything pertaining to preservation. The sun was at its peak when I succeeded. I found it in a volume that looked like it was hanging on to the threads of it's spine, and definitely needed rebinding, but hopefully, if I succeed, it may last a little longer. The spell would only preserve something for a day, so I suppose I had to come here before midday for as long as I train. I thought of what I did when I used magic to heal, I felt the world around me, the earth under my knees, the wind that blew around me, the ripples that went through the pond, and finally the magic that resided within me. The moment I felt it, I knew something was different. Normally, there was just a spark, something that was small, barely there. Now, it felt like that spark had grown into a flame of what size I didn't know. It felt so far away. I tried pulling it to me, and some of it yielded to me. The rest, I could not reach. Hopefully, this was enough, I placed my hands on one of the books, "vard-veita." I chanted, letting my eyes close only slightly, I felt the flow of magic run through me like water in a stream, wind through a tree, and opened my eyes. Because I can't recognise magic, I have no idea if it actually worked, so I only have one way of finding it out. Dip it in the pond and see if it worked.

I picked up the book and opened it, so it was just the cover page being dipped, I don't want to ruin the entire thing. I may hate the Aesir and everything they stand for, but I'm not monstrous enough to destroy a perfectly good book, I also need the volume for practising magic while I'm here, there's that too. I dipped the cover into the pond, wincing as it entered. Please work, I begged to the magic that ran through every living thing. I pulled the book out of the water and felt the leather cover.

It was dry.

I immediately started screaming and dancing in pure ecstasy. I'd done something with my power, I wish someone, specifically my mother, could see this. I hope she would be proud of me. I then became conscious of how I'd look to others, despite how remote and away from the main city this was, and composed myself. Although I did start laughing at the thought of someone seeing the sight of me, the Goddess of Logic, daughter of the first Valkyrie queen, Freya, first person to knock the God of Foresight on his ass in over a century (probably), dancing and screaming like a child because she finally thinks she becomes useful. Ymir, I hope no one saw this.

I knelt back on the floor, preserved the rest, and returned to the book feeling drained. It didn't matter though, I had to continue. For Atreus, for my mother's approval once I returned. I thought of things my mother had done and remembered how once when fighting against me, after I had started to push her back, she had conjured a beam of energy so bright it had blinded me and she gained the advantage. I looked for that.

It wasn't in the first volume that contained the preservation spell, and after hours of searching for it, I found it in the third book. It didn't contain an incantation of any kind. It said that you had to feel for your power and imagine the beam in your hand. I did just that, I felt for my power and imagined the beam of energy. I started to feel my hands warm up, and I thought I'd be able to do it, that I'd have not just one, but two successes. I failed. All that happened was sparks started to appear, and then they fizzled out. The feeling of disappointment was familiar to me, and so was the feeling of exhaustion. I think it is probably best if I stopped, maybe looked into the history of Asgard and looked at fighting techniques to oppose the Aesir.

I did just that and by dusk I'd found out some useful information; I read that all sons of Odin (apart from Tyr as he was imprisoned) took part in pacifying the dwarven rebellion in Svartalfheim and that Heimdall was the one to brand a dwarf named, Durlin (one of the rebellion's leaders. This made me hate him more, knowing that he probably loved doing something so cruel. I didn't know much about the rebellion but what I did know is that the dwarves, a giant named Laufey, everyone who fought, were incredibly brave for fighting for their freedom and that Odin ensured that the spark of rebellion would always be quenched. It disgusted me how Heimdall was praised for such an act of cruelty in the text, so much so that I gagged. He also helped assist Tyr with the imprisonment of the hound of hell. The surprise that went through me was interesting. I couldn't believe he'd assist with such an honourable task. I suppose Garm threatened all realms, including Asgard, so the narcissistic piece of shit had no choice but to help defend his home.

I had exhausted myself by remembering Heimdall's fighting style from the initial fight, the day Atreus and I arrived here. I lost because I got cocky, because he had invoked a furious inferno that ran throughout my entire being and I wanted to see him on the floor, wipe off his perfect exterior and show to everyone that I could take him down and show that he was weak, and I was good enough to defeat this God who immediately turned up his nose at Atreus and I because of our blood, the realm we were born in, because he was eternally loyal to a monster who had ordered the death of my father, the imprisonment and violation of my mother, and the deaths of millions. Heimdall was a walking shit stain, and I wanted him to suffer, most of all, for the threat he posed to Atreus and for his violation of my mind. I worked tirelessly at figuring out how to fight him best, I figured that having the range to give him a good shot to the heart would be preferable, but I trained with my sword anyways, just in case.

When the sun started to set and the moon started to rise, I was dripping with sweat, and threads of my hair had started falling out of the braid. In my reflection, I saw a mess. I suppose that was a good thing. It showed I'd done something. I groaned when I realised I had to walk to the wall and, in the end, would be by the side of the worst person to ever walk the nine realms. That may be an over exaggeration since his father existed, but he's definitely in my top five of the worst people to ever exist.

The walk to the wall was refreshing. The sweat started to disappear off my body from the wind that blew through me and I welcomed the breeze, I was walking through fields to get there so I focused on the birds chirping, the feel of the blades of grass that tickled my ankles. It grounded me, which was useful for the conflict and rage I would feel inside me the moment I saw the protector of Asgard.

The silence I felt on the platform was different to the silence of my walk. That was serene, this was filled with so much resentment and the tension was so thick that I would have less trouble gutting a hare for dinner than cutting through the tension that was between us. I welcomed getting of the platform and having more than a five meter distance from him, I moved away as fast as I could and went to my perch on the wall. I actually had an objective for today that wasn't ignore Heimdall, it was protect the humans from the creatures because the Einherjar are pathetic. I equipped my bow and focused my vision onto the illustrious Plains of Ida. I found my mark of a nightmare that was getting far too close for my liking, I knocked an arrow onto the string of my bow, drew it back to my cheek, and loosed it. It didn't surprise me that it hit the nightmare, killing it, but I was happy either way. I'd done something, something good. I've felt so useless while being here as Atreus was clearly being split from me it was nice to do something which might help, which did make me wonder, why was Odin keeping me here? It clearly wasn't out of any benevolence, he's a monster after all, it wasn't to use me, I wasn't as malleable as Atreus could be; I was my mother's daughter after all, there had to be something more here. He couldn't kill me as that would weaken his relationship with Atreus, he could send me home, which was a perfectly decent option. I was a potential distraction for Atreus, I was loyal to my mother. The fact that he hasn't sent me home, gives me reason to think the likelihood of me actually returning is slim. So why accept me here in the first place? The fact that I didn't know made my head go fuzzy, there was a logical explanation for this and yet I couldn't see it, which meant I needed more facts.

The first few stars had entered the sky, and I'd eliminated countless creatures when my arrows started getting low, I didn't mind much. I knew I couldn't collect them because the likelihood of me being allowed out, then allowed back in, was low but thankfully, there were trees which I could collect sticks from, I had spare feathers in a bag on my belt, and I'd find the steel somewhere for arrowheads. If someone would actually sell to me, that would be awesome. "You do know we have Einherjar down there to protect them?" Heimdall whispered into my ear.

I froze, but eventually, I refocused my vision from the plains of grass down below to the plains of lavender that were his eyes, "I've seen the Einherjar fight. a kitten could do better."

Heimdall laughed at that. It took me a second to register, that he laughed. It was short, sweet, not sinister, not the ice cold laugh that sent blades of ice through my entire body. This was genuine, beautiful. I suppose it fit with the exterior of him, even if the inside was rotten and disgusting.

"Okay, waste your arrows. It doesn't affect that pathetic b-" he didn't get to finish his sentence because I wrapped my bow back around my body and punched him as hard as I can, that I may have broken one or more of my fingers. It was a shame I could only heal cuts. This would be a nuisance. The look on his face was worth it, though. His eyes flashed, and he gritted his golden teeth that I gritted my own at the sound of metal on metal. "What the hel was that for?"

"You insulted my people." And with that, the mocking laughter came, and I felt the ice. It was funny how this man could make me boil with rage and freeze with fear at the same time. Why did he have such an effect? he seemed to relax a little, then he delivered a swift pommel strike to my abdomen, making me keel over. He proceeded by kicking me to the floor and placing his foot on my chest. "I've killed your people, thousands of them, actually."

"And Ragnarok will be your retribution." I spit back, trying to get myself back on my feet, but am just met by more pressure on my chest.

"Not if the All-Father or I have anything to say about it." he snaps, and I let out a breathless laugh.

"It is prophecy, you can't ignore fate, you imbecile."

He placed more pressure and I let out a hoarse groan, "Prophecies don't always come true, although, I suppose you wouldn't know enough about them, considering you were isolated with no one but your traitorous, bitch of a mother."

Before he insulted my mother, I felt defeated. He was right, I didn't know enough. Then, I didn't care. He would not sully her name. I used every morsel of my strength to get him off me, which made him lose his balance, and it was my turn to bring him to the floor. I ended up with my knee on his chest and my face hovering over his. "Do not insult her."

"Hypocrite, you insult my father, my King, you threaten my people, and yet you call us the aggressors? Now, where is the logic in that?" He smirked, and I punched it off his face, drilling my fist into his nose. Blood printed itself onto my fist.

"Your father had my father killed, he destroyed my mother, he started the war . You fucking deserve it." Tears had started leaking from my eyes and had landed on his own cheeks, I saw the hypocrisy in the insulting parents part, I immediately realised that he was just a son, a follower of his king, I hated to say it, but in that way I was the same. The rest was bullshit, they were the aggressors, they started the war and watched as it raged on from the comfort of Gladsheim. They live in peace while the remaining Vanir live in poverty, they suffered the most. The Aesir deserve Ragnarok.

"One, your mother was a traitor, and you are my enemy. Therefore, I don't really care. You deserve the suffering." I gritted my teeth, "Two, which war? My father started a lot of wars and has never lost one." The boast wasn't missed. How was he proud of having a tyrannical conqueror as a father?

"She refused to give Baldur's curse to Odin! How is that traitorous? I'd call it a fucking blessing."

"Either way, still an enemy."

"Then give her exile, kill her, not curses that destroyed her." Maybe if my mother had died, it would be some solace, and I wouldn't have had to have been born. I was a mistake, I had to be, I was weak, naive, I couldn't get most things right. In every way, I was a failure, and after the incident with the raiders, the person who looked like my mother had made sure to remind me of it. I rejoiced when she came back to me, brought back by Atreus and the desire for true vengeance.

*~*~*

For a singular moment, I felt sympathetic, I saw from her expression what her mind must always be screaming. She was entirely alone for her entire life. Her father killed. Her mother was destroyed and distant, with no allies and no friends. From what I knew, it was just a small sphere of nature for just over a century. Then I remembered I didn't care about her at all, Frigg deserved everything she got, so did the Vanir people, they or Freyr seemed charming at first, Freyr reminded me of a nicer version of me, maybe what I could've been if I didn't have this curse or gift, to know what people thought at all times made me see the evil of everyone, how treacherous they could be, but it was also a gift, I could protect my home, erase the threats before they lie there way out of it to someone ignorant. Freyr seemed good at first. He genuinely came out of diplomacy to help us so the war wouldn't start and peace could be achieved. I was wrong. Apparently, it was just self-preservation. His magic didn't do anything, and the famines we had just got worse. He helped almost cripple us so the Vanir could actually stand a chance. It was pathetic really, considering the moment the marriage ended, and Frigg was gone, they had nothing, and they lost easily. Thor and I didn't even break a sweat. It was a shame I was sent back to allow Thor to finish the job, seeing the fear on their faces as we swept through the ranks, picking them off one by one, was one that made me feel so happy. It was one of the few things Thor and I actually agreed on. War was one of the best things we'd experienced. The only war I truly feared was Ragnarok's. It is the end of all that would mean this place, the All-Father, it would all be gone. Everything good with this world would be erased.

"Do you know how many of my people you're uncle left to starve during our famine? Do you know how many of our soldiers died due to your ever so precious mother in the initial attack?" She looked so dumbfounded it was almost adorable, "No? Okay, I'll tell you," I paused, "thousands died to the starvation, mortals like the ones you claim to care for. Then, it was countless in the war."

"It was the same on both sides."

"Don't care. Frigg, your entire family and country deserved everything they got." She stared into my eyes for a moment. They were filled with emerald fire. It was exhilarating if I was being honest. Fun. Her pupils started moving in thought and I wished I could no what's going on in that mind, so much so that I tried to enter again only to be met with silence, a wall that I couldn't pierce through. It was a direct contrast to what it was like as a child. I had had no control whatsoever, I used to start crying whenever I was in crowded spaces as they'd all be blending together. They were all so trivial as well, what they'd do, how they were going to do it, sometimes it would be their own conflicts, and then some would be monstrous. I saw them for who they all were, and it hurt me, not just physically but emotionally. So much so that I hated them, so much so that whenever someone good would come along, I'd be waiting for when they'd think something horrible or just do it. Most of the time, I wasn't disappointed. She started gritting her teeth as I tried to push past. She didn't break, though. I hated to admit it, but she was strong, physically and mentally. Her knee on my chest hurt, and so did her punches and then her will. It was made of something stronger than steel.

"And so will yours." And with that, she stood up and got off me. I was quite grateful for it. The air going back through my chest was refreshing.

The remainder of the night was silence, I guarded with the normal, extreme, vigilance, and I made sure to keep an eye on the Vanir. None of the creatures started wandering near the Midgardian settlement, so she was left without anything to do. Even without it, she seemed in her element up here more than on the ground. It wasn't lost on me that that would be because of her uncontrollable, unbeknownst to her, power to control the wind. It was disgusting to see her look like she belonged in a place she didn't. She doesn't belong anywhere in Asgard. Despite how much I hated her, I was intrigued by her. She was the only one who could block me out. She was intelligent and resourceful when she had the information necessary, powerful. I wanted to see her at her most powerful though, when I found her last night, it was a struggle to get past the wind she was unleashing, and I wanted to know what she was capable of. If I did know, I could use it to strategise a plan with the All-Father to take her down and find out what could be used to fully destroy her. Although, I do believe it's somewhere in her mind, she hid something deep down and from what I've heard from the brat's discussions with my good-for-nothing niece he didn't know much of her apart from what we know. She has had a life which, even when she left the stave, we didn't know, and me breaking through her shield would be the key.

When we returned to the Great Lodge I was prepared to go brief the All-Father as I do normally, but I remained for a moment to see (Y/n) pet Gulltoppr and thank him for holding the both of us, which the noble beast responded with a purr. I rolled my eyes, "Go to Baldur's chambers." I made sure not to say they were her's, they weren't they were my brother's, whether he was dead or not, it didn't matter. It was an insult to him that she was even allowed to sleep in them and wear his wife's clothing. I don't even know how Nanna hasn't crossed paths with her yet. Oh wait, yes, I do. Ever since Baldur's death, she's refused to leave her home. I know Forseti checks on her from time to time, I don't care enough about her to check. It was disappointing, though, despite her being a Goddess of Peace, she was still fierce, now that was gone. "Jealous?"

I scoffed, "Please, I trained him, tamed him. The day I become jealous of any connection you two have, Ragnarok will have come." She puts her hands up in surrender and said goodbye to my mount, he responded by licking her. She laughed and smiled, and I had to appreciate the purity of the moment. I didn't care if it was her, I didn't get them much, so I appreciated the small scenario. I went to leave, and before I entered the lodge, she called for me, and I turned around, "What?"

"I would like to apologise." I couldn't help but scoff again. Why was I allowing this folly? I had to debrief the All-Father about her, about tonight, just everything I found out that was known. I went to leave, but I was met with the bringing down of her mental shield, and I was halted in my tracks. This most definitely was a development. I couldn't see much. The rest was buried to the back of her mind, and It would take time to search, time in which she could easily put up her shield and block me out again. I could see her sincerity though, that I was right about her hypocrisies and that she was grateful for me teaching her that war was not black and white, it was complicated, both sides doing it for the good of the other and it was just the innate horribleness of people with a conscience. I didn't particularly know how to approach this. All I knew was that there was a positive effect to earlier as I'd clearly helped her. It was strange, I'd not known her long, and I hated her more than literally anyone else, and yet this made me feel something. I could see that she wanted to be better, to not be such a failure, and I a sort of kinship with her. She may not be good, or sincere, no one but the All-Father was, and yet she wanted to be, truly wanted to be. In that moment, I knew what that feeling was, one that I couldn't explain. It was some small sliver of hope that people could be better. I reminded myself of her allegiances and crushed that hope. She could not be truly good as she went against the All-Father, the only good person there was.

She brought the wall back up and I felt myself being pushed out, "We'll see." I muttered and I left to my father's office.

"Is that a bruise I see forming?" These were the first things I heard as I started my descent down the steps, "It's nothing." I had no idea why I decided not to tell him that she threw a hook to my jaw, chipping one of my teeth, and then punched me in the nose. It was probably still those weird little feelings she'd been able to coax out. I'd call this my forgiveness, then be done with them. "Sure." I reached the bottom, and I walked to him, "So, what have you found?"

"She let me in her head." His eye widened, and he gestured for me to explain, "We had an argument about the war, how she was a hypocrite in certain respects, and for once she listened. She allowed me into her head to see that she wanted to give a genuine apology."

"Did you see anything else?"

"No, the rest was buried so far deep it would've taken time to search through. Time I didn't have as she could shut me out in a second's notice."

He gave a slight nod, "This is good." I didn't tell him about the preposterous explanation of how she thought the war with her people wasn't straight forward, it was incredibly clear. The All-Father was right in what he did, conquering Vanaheim was deserved. After what Freyr did, the people that died, every death, every agony they ever experienced, was deserved. I may not have liked them, I may not have known them, but it is my duty, the reason for my entire being, to protect the land and the people in it. Only in death will I be separated from this. I failed them when I cleared Freyr. Watching him burn was one of the best moments of my life.

"I also watched her train today." I remembered watching from my place on the wall, when she did the preservation spell, her funny little movements afterwards, her failure at creating energy. I remembered watching her study me specifically, I made sure to look at the pages she was reading; I saw her negative expression at branding Durlin, I smiled at the memory of when I'd burned the dwarf and then how she'd looked shocked at when I helped with Garm. I didn't understand it, I'd made my stance on being the protector of the realm quite clear, I was doing my duty when I begged to be relieved of my duties so I could fight, it was the one thing I'd ever asked the All-Father for, he was skeptical as I'd just been bestowed Gjallarhorn but allowed me to help. Then there was her ruthless efficiency with a blade that I also noticed was to fight against me. Her movements were awe-inspiring. Every stroke, every parry, every block was precise, strong, and swift. I had to resist the urge to watch for longer as I had to keep to my duties, I also had wanted to try and copy her movements, fight back against what she had started to perfect. I had to keep to my duties, but I made a mental note to practice more, considering she was the first to hurt me in over a century. I repeated all the facts, not my opinions, to him, and then I gave my evaluation, "I believe she should be sent home or killed. She's powerful, and she doesn't even know it, we don't know what she'll be like if she starts realising how powerful she is."

"Did I ask for your opinion?" I was taken a back, I believed my reasoning was good. She was a threat to this realm. How could he keep her here, especially alive? My dream of her burning this realm to the ground replayed in my head, and I winced.

"No, All-Father."

He hummed, "Continue to keep an eye on her. I'm sending you both to Svartalfheim tomorrow. The dwarves aren't meeting the quotas I've set. Remind them of the war, do what you want with them, just make sure they start working how I want them to."

"Why not send Thor?" The question was insubordinate, I had realised immediately, but I was protector of the realm, not his executioner.

"Thor's sloppy. He goes for the kill and doesn't care about what he breaks. You, you tortured in the wars before, and you were beautiful at it. You made examples of them. I'd like you to start doing that again, with tensions rising." I couldn't help but smile, I had missed this, and I couldn't wait. There were two questions to be answered, though, "Why is she coming with me? And who will protect the wall while I'm gone?"

"For the first question, I'm not stupid, and I have eyes and ears everywhere. She hurt you. I promised punishment, and here it is. Remind her of how weak she truly is, make it impossible for her to defend them. You can threaten the kid if you'd like, even follow through if you want, I don't care as long as he's functioning enough to find the mask pieces." The ecstatic feeling running through me made me feel a little dizzy, I don't think things could get better than this. I'd actually been given the go-ahead to torment the boy, not like I'd been doing it already, but this would be special. I mean, I've been planning to kill him because of how much of a threat he is, but I also know I'd have trouble with it, considering he's under my father's protection. "For the second question, we're in a time of peace right now, so it's not entirely necessary for anyone to be. Just in case, I've placed two Einherjar soldiers for every metre of the wall across it." I've seen the Einherjar fight. A kitten could do a better job. I gave a slight smile at the memory. She was right, though. They were pathetic in comparison to literally anything else. They were only formidable in population. It worried me that it wouldn't be enough.

"Could you either double them or place the Valkyries up there, too?" I was concerned, especially after the arrival of those two half-breeds. The tensions were rising, this was shown by the fact that I had to go to Svartalfheim, that we had to send more soldiers to the other realms, especially Vanaheim.

"I'll see what I can do, is that all?"

"Yes All-Father, thank you."

"You're dismissed." I bowed as I normally did, perfect, respectful. It was what I was meant to be to the people who deserved it, and he was the only one.

#gow ragnarok #heimdall gow #heimdall #heimdall x reader #god of war ragnarok

1 note · View note

voiceoffenrisulfr · 3 months

Text

Multitudes Chapter Eleven

... Comes Memories Best Left Behind.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov/Steve Rogers

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Nat wakes up, and starts to remember.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 8349

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) Post-suicide attempt, graphic flashbacks of sexual assault via mind-controlled friend, guilt tripping, injury detail (SH), external and internal examination, forced hysterectomy, restraint, SA of an injured minor (non-graphic, predominantly verbal).

𝐀/𝐍 -> Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Please read the warnings, and proceed with caution. Check it out below, or on AO3 here!

The snazzy Black Widow divider comes from @/firefly-graphics and I love it <3 The Multitudes Universe one is our own!

<- Previous Chapter (10/72) Next Chapter (12/72) ->

I woke slowly, to a reluctant consciousness I immediately prayed was a dream.

The agony I was in told me otherwise.

I kept my eyes closed against the bright lights, a headache barrelling down on me without hesitation.

Silence.

Odd, blissful silence.

I became aware, over time, of a hand in mine. Only when the fingers clasped tight flexed could I notice their presence, and as soon as they stilled once more, I immediately forgot that I wasn’t alone.

Occasionally, voices spoke around me, but I didn’t have the energy to decipher the words. I had no idea how long I’d been lay there, being poked and prodded, before I finally opened my eyes.

The room was nondescript and light, an airy space intended to encourage healing and wellbeing.

I immediately wished I’d never bothered.

Turning my head with a groan, I froze when I saw the person with their fingers interlocked with mine.

Clint’s eyes were puffy, the space underneath a violent violet of sleepless nights and poor-quality food, lips chewed to rags and scabbed over, time and again. His cheekbones protruded sharply, hair lacking its usual healthy shine, and his fingernails were bitten to the quick, raw and angry.

Beautiful.

His lids were closed in twitchy sleep, and I took the opportunity to follow the line of my arm, wrapped heavily in sterile bandages between wrist and bicep. Glancing across, I found the other to be the same, and, if the discomfort spread throughout my body was anything to go by, there were many more wounds scattered across my skin – rips and tears I didn’t remember making.

“Natasha?”

My head jerked back around, finding Clint’s red eyes watching me hesitantly, dropping my hand quickly. “God, I… I’m so glad you’re awake. There was… I didn't think you'd wake up.” He stood, weaving slightly, his clothes wrinkled and malodorous. “You’ve been out for a week. The blood loss, the extent of the damage… They put you into a coma to give your body chance to recover. They… You wouldn’t eat enough, and we knew it. They had to make the choice.” He gestured to my other side, and I followed his gaze to the creamy IV situated above me, panic settling in.

“No,” I whispered, my eyes flicking back to him desperately. “No, Clint – Please, please don’t let them do this to me.”

He smiled weakly, stepping away from the bed, hands raised to protest his innocence. “It’s none of my business, Nat. I shouldn’t even be here – don’t you remember? I’m just a rapist, and you never want to see me again.”

I winced, recalling the words that flowed unheard from my mouth. “…What did it say?”

“It?”

“The Voice. It… It was me, in the beginning. But not – it didn’t give me a choice. But then I couldn’t, and it… It took over. I don’t… I couldn’t hear it. I couldn’t do anything,” I whispered, balling my mostly-numb fists and digging my nails into my palms. “I only woke up under the car.”

“’I remembered how you fucking hurt me, and now I can’t even look at you’,” he murmured, dropping into the seat once more. “That was you, wasn’t it?” I nodded reluctantly, and he pushed a hand through his hair. “After that… You were cold. You were… Nasty.”

“What did I say?” I whispered, trembling with fear.

He met my gaze slowly, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I can’t, Nat.”

“I can’t move on until I know what I did.”

“You won’t move on when you do,” he quipped, throwing my own words back at me. “You won’t be able to live with it.”

“It was that bad?” I pressed, hands shaking. He looked away, deviating from a script we’d followed once before.

“It was worse.”

I winced and rested my head back against the pillow, drained and tired of life. “… I’d still like to know, Clint.”

He hummed and met my eye once more, hard and haunted. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

Clint tossed his knife from hand to hand, grinning wolfishly, his bright blue eyes sparkling with menace. “Natalia,” he crooned, the blade spinning between his fingers. “My dear, sweet Nat. Why don’t you come a little closer? I’ve missed you.”

“Leave him alone,” I hissed, fists raised and coiled loosely. “Clint, if you’re in there… You can fight this. I know you can.” He shook his head harshly, growling, and my hope flared. “Clint? Clint, you can do this. Come back to me, please…” My hands became open palms, offered soothingly as I inched closer, his eyes squeezed shut in a grimace. “Please, Clint, I-”

He jerked forward with a primal snarl, catching my wrists and securing them around the pipe with a zip tie. I looked up, stunned, into the brightest, most terrifying gaze. “Nat, Nat, Nat…” He tutted, walking around to kick my legs apart. “You love this one, don’t you? You’d do anything for him.”

I nodded sharply, heart racing in my chest. “Anything.”

He pressed the knife to his own throat, grinning sinisterly. “Prove it. I’m going to fuck you now, and you’re going to take it, or I will kill him.” He squatted by my side, trailing a finger across my cheek. “You’ve always wanted me, haven’t you, Little Spider?”

I flinched and recoiled, swallowing the bile in my throat. “I want Clint. Not you.”

He smirked as he straightened, undoing his belt. “This is the only way your precious ‘Clint’ will ever fuck you, Natalia. You may as well accept it.”

I blinked owlishly, then nodded, rigid and terrified. “Just don’t hurt him. I… I’ll do anything you want. Just please… Don’t hurt him.”

He grinned once more, trailing the knife along my body, cutting through my suit from breastbone to abdomen and ripping it from my skin. I shivered under his lustful gaze, writhing in an effort to hide my scantily clad body, eliciting a tut and pressing the knife to his throat. “Natalia, we’ve discussed this. You will behave, or he will die.”

I stilled immediately, muscles going limp as his rough hands dragged down my underwear, tossing it aimlessly over his shoulder and forcing my legs apart.

There was no hesitation as he pushed a finger inside me, making me cry out against the intrusion. “Fuck, Natasha… Do you like that, Little Spider?” He pumped himself mercilessly as I sobbed, caressing my walls in an almost tender motion. My tight ring of muscle burnt, clamping down against the intrusion. “You love the way I stretch you out and make you all ready for me. You’re so goddamn tight – I thought you were a slut?”

“You pretend like you don’t want this, but you’re so wet… Your pussy wants this, and you can’t deny it.” He smirked as a second finger prodded my hole, rubbing gently. “You want another finger, is that it? You’re squeezing so hard – so desperate. No, it’s not a finger you want, I know. But one more first, Little Spider. We have to make sure you can take it; I wouldn’t want to hurt my dear Natty, after all.” He forced his way inside me and I screamed, burning and tearing, fading to a soft sob as he worked me wider. His fingers drew out and came to his mouth, licking the blood from the digits with a laugh. “Well… Wet is wet.”

He crawled up my body, smelling of sweat and Clint, and I wept aloud as he poked at my entrance. “Clint, I’m sorry,” I whispered, fingers balling into fists.

He pushed inside me once more, setting fire to my nerves and burning away my last vestiges of sanity, muscles relaxing as I gave up. “God, Nat… You’re so fucking tight. I never thought you’d be this tight.” He stuttered out a groan as his hips shifted, his length moving inside me, but I could barely feel anything anymore, my unseeing eyes locked somewhere over his head as I jerked at his motion. “Natasha… Such a good little girl,” he crooned, hand smoothing the hair from my face. “Talk to me, my little slut. Tell me how good this feels… How long you’ve wanted it.” I simply nodded distantly, and he growled, slapping me hard. “Do as I say, Natalia, or your loverboy dies while you watch.”

“Please,” I whimpered, forcing my body to wriggle in faux arousal – something I had more than enough experience of, but never in such a heartbreaking way. “I’ve wanted it for so long – it’s so good. You feel so good, please…”

He grinned wickedly, pulling out long enough to flip me over, my ass in the air, entirely at his mercy as he pushed into my clenched, unprepared hole, making me scream once more, nails snapping as they scraped the metal ground. “You like it when I do it like this, don’t you? You like it rough…” He jerked his hips forward, another cry escaping my torn throat, followed by a desperate sob.

“Please,” I begged, wanting this to stop – needing this to be over.

“You like that, don’t you?” he breathed, reaching around to paw at me ineffectually. “Tell me how much you like it, Little Spider…”

Now. Left leg back, against his neck. There’s a pipe he will hit his head on. He’ll be out cold.

Wh… What?

“What did I say, Natasha?” he ground out as he rammed into me, body chafing against the grating. “Answer me. Tell me how much you love this cock in your ass; I bet Barton could never-”

My leg raised of its own accord, colliding with the side of his throat and sending him flying into the pipe I was secured to. He instantly crumpled, and I sobbed, curling my beaten, damaged body into itself.

Thank you…

You’re welcome, Natalia. I only want what is best for you – for us.

“I managed to get the knife and cut through the zip ties. I found a fresh suit, cleaned the blood from my body, and got you to the medical bay. I never spoke of it… Not until now,” I added, wincing.

Clint’s mouth worked wordlessly, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. “Nat…”

I shook my head, offering him a weak smile. “Your turn.”

Wiping his face, he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “It... Well, I feel like an asshole for comparing the two, now.” I reached out a hand across the space between us, and he hesitated before entwining his fingers firmly with mine, unable to hide his shaking.

“Like I said, I... I knew something was wrong. You said what you said about not being able to look at me, and then you just... Disappeared. You do it, sometimes; I think it’s when The Voice is talking with you. Sometimes you just go blank, staring off into the distance, and it’s almost impossible to get you back.”

“After that, things got... Weird. It was like you had a switch for your emotions, and you just turned it off. You... You looked me in the eye, and you said... You said that you only fucked me as test, to see if it was the same. To see if I was really under Loki’s control, or if it was just a lie to get away with doing whatever I wanted. You said that I failed.” He swallowed hard, looking away. “I tried for explain- to apologise- anything. But you – it – just laughed. It said that once a rapist, always a rapist. It said... ‘We never want to see you again. You’re a monster, Clint, and we wish we’d never met you’.”

He paused for breath and I rubbed his hand reassuringly, guilt settling like rock in my chest. “And then... Then it said that I was the reason for it all. The cutting, the starving. It said ‘we do these things because we can’t fucking live with what you did to us. But I bet you still touch yourself at night when you think of it, don’t you, Clint? You still come to the memory of us screaming and begging for mercy as you unmade us, wishing more than anything you could tie us up again. But we’re not going to give you the opportunity’.” He blanched and gagged, eyes growing wide. “I- I don’t, I would never...”

“I know,” I soothed, extending an arm to him, pulling him tight against my chest as he crawled on the bed beside me, sobbing uncontrollably into my gown. “I know... I’m so sorry, Clint.”

“I understand now,” he whispered, fingers wrapped firmly in my sheets as he curled against me. “I understand, vaguely, how hard it must be. How mean that goddamn Voice is.” I nodded and hummed, placing a soft kiss to his hair. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he added, his voice a low murmur.

“I’m sorry too, Clint. I... Can we start over?”

He looked up, shocked. “You... Still want to be with me? After everything I did?”

I smiled affectionately, pressing my forehead to his. “You are my light in the darkness, Clint Barton. I will always, always love you.”

He grinned for a heartbeat, then winced. “Then... Why? Why did you leave me in the first place?”

I baulked and looked away, shame colouring my cheeks. “Basically? The Voice tricked me into doing something... Dumb. Intimately dumb,” I added when frowned, rolling my jaw thoughtfully as my face pinked further. “I... It convinced me I would get sick, and that I needed to be clean. I... Ate body wash. And... put it in other places.”

He winced sharply, hissing air in through his teeth. “Are you okay?”

I nodded dismissively, waving a hand. “Charcoal helped with the sickness, and it seems that the coma helped with the... Discomfort. I’ll be fine. But I felt stupid and embarrassed, and I knew I’d have to tell you about it. But... The Voice can be so persuasive. It made a fool of me, and then used that as proof that I needed it, and should listen to it. It… It made me feel like I didn’t have a choice.”

He leant forward, touching his forehead to mine. “You weren’t to know, Nat. You… You could have talked to me.”

Nodding quickly, I sniffed. “I know. But at the time…”

He clucked sympathetically, cupping my chin in his hand. “I know, my love. That Voice has a power and a way of making you believe things.” I hitched a sob, and his nose brushed mine before he hesitated. “I… Can I kiss you?” A few more tears leaked down my cheeks, touched and honoured by this humble, damaged man, and I nodded desperately, his lips brushing mine, sweet and chaste. “I love you, Little Spider.”

“I love you, too,” I whimpered, wrapping my arms around him as tight as the bandages and IVs would allow, clinging to him desperately.

I’m never letting go again.

That was how Bruce found us, curled around one another and crying softly, murmuring apologies and forgiveness into each other’s bodies.

“You’re awake?”

We looked up in unison, and Clint went to detangle his limbs from mine, but I held him fast. “She woke up only recently,” he offered, chagrined – I guess he was supposed to tell someone.

Bruce hummed, glancing between the two of us impassively, before a weak smile flickered on his lips. “I’m glad to see you’ve made up.” His gaze flicked to me imploringly, and I nodded.

“I told him,” I explained, wincing in shame once again. “I should have done that in the first place.”

The doctor grimaced sympathetically, moving closer, and I nodded when he gestured at the foot of the bed imploringly, settling himself by my legs. “I’m going to talk to you about the medical treatment you have received, and where we go from here. Would you like Clint to stay?”

I felt Clint’s eyes on me, questioning and unassuming, but I only chuckled under my breath. “Yes. I would always like Clint to stay.” His arms twitched around me protectively, and I smiled, burying closer into his chest.

Bruce watched us for a moment, his face a perfect blend of happiness and grief, before he shook his head. “Natasha, you were found in the parking lot seventeen minutes after you ran from Clint. Given the extent of the damage sustained and the lengths you went to in to try to hide, it has been assumed that this was an attempt on your life. Is that accurate?” I hesitated then nodded reluctantly, and he made a quick mark on his clipboard before placing it on his lap, meeting my gaze steadily. “You made seventy-three incisions, two of which involved major arteries. You were unconscious when we found you, already far into major hypovolemic shock. You were extremely tachycardic and tachypnoeic, with almost no capillary refill.” He flinched at a memory I couldn’t fathom, looking away before continuing. “You’re O-negative. While we always have universal donor blood on hand, it wasn’t enough. Without Clint - the only other O-negative member of the team, aside from myself – you’d have died, Natasha.”

I offered my partner a weak smile, noticing for the first time the heavy bruising that marred the curve of his elbow, and pressed my lips to his forehead. “Thank you.”

“It took four hours to stitch you up. Near the… End, you stopped searching for skin and just went through the clothes. There were fibres and grit embedded into your wounds. One of the IVs is a broad-spectrum antibiotic,” he added, nodding at the multitude of bags hanging above me, “and you’ve been responding well. You… You had four-hundred and twelve stitches, in the end. Stephen and I worked on you in shifts, and we weren’t optimistic that you’d pull through. When you somehow started trying to regain consciousness, you had a seizure, so we induced a coma to give your body chance to recover. The drug was withdrawn yesterday, but you didn’t wake up. We weren’t certain if you would ever wake up, or the… Condition you would be in, if you did.” He offered me a tight smile, meeting my eye once more. “We’ll have to run some tests, but… It seems that you haven’t suffered significant impairment of your faculties, at least.” He gestured down at my arms, swathed in white. “Stephen did what he could to salvage your nerves, but… Natasha, you have to be warned. You may never regain full sensation or function. The damage was significant, and any healing will be slow, but there’s no guarantee you’ll ever be back to how you were before.”

“Your weight was at an all-time low, and you had a violent infection from the lacerations to your ribs, which were beginning to turn septic. You were severely anaemic, and deficient in almost all essential vitamins. I don’t know how you’re alive, Nat,” he finished simply, something akin to wonder and intimidation flickering across his face.

I shrugged half-heartedly, looking away. “Just lucky, I guess; or unlucky, depending on your interpretation,” I added with a snort, sending Clint’s head jerking up from my chest with a frown.

“That’s not funny, Natasha.” I rolled my jaw and nodded tersely, and his eyes widened infinitesimally. “Are you… Do you still feel that way? Like… Hurting yourself?”

I shrugged again, picking at my bandages absently. “Everything isn’t suddenly fixed because we talked a little, Clint. It’s better, but it’s not… Better. I still…” The lump in my throat made my voice crack, and I squeezed my eyes shut before continuing. “I still hate who I am. The things I’ve done.”

His fingers found mine one more, filling the spaces between. “Then we’ll keep talking,” he replied simply, my eyes opening to meet his sympathetic gaze. “For as long as it takes. Right, Doc?”

Bruce sighed, drawing our focus back toward him. “Actually… It’s my professional opinion that Natasha should be transferred to a dedicated facility.”

My blood thrummed in shock and devastation – no, don’t send me away, he is the only thing that makes this endurable and I won’t survive without him – but Clint merely stood slowly, stepping closer to the seated doctor and looming over him. “Do you make that choice?” Bruce shook his head, skin tinged with lime, and my partner smiled emotionlessly. “If she is not under non-voluntary admittance, as required by law, then she goes nowhere. And if you know what’s good for you – and more importantly, what’s good for her – you won’t seek out that order. Not only will it likely kill her, but it’ll mean I have a lot of free time on my hands to make your life a living hell, Bruce.”

I blinked vacantly, startled by the flat fury in Clint’s voice, his eyes dark and intimidating. But Bruce, the mottling of his skin growing more evident, only stood, his chest close to the other man’s as his height increased steadily. “Don’t make me angry, Barton,” he whispered, barely perceptible. “You won’t like me when I’m angry.”

“Boys!” I snapped, sending both heads whipping around to me, the doctor deflating slowly. “That’s enough. Clint’s right – I’m not going anywhere. You can try and force me if you want, but it will be the death of me. I’m an international spy; do you really want to test my ability to commit suicide in a locked ward?”

Bruce blinked and paled, then turned his gaze back to Clint, still vibrant green and furious. “Don’t ever insinuate that I don’t want what’s best for her. She was on a strict no-exercise order for a reason, and you fucked her. She could have had a heart attack. You could have killed her for your own pleasure – and even though you didn’t, what good has come of it?” Hands raised and open, he gestured to the surrounding room. “You are the last person who can ever question my motivation, Barton. Not when your own is clearly so selfish.”

Bruce’s words rung in the silence as he left, Clint stood loosely beside the bed.

“Clint-”

“He’s right,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. “God, he’s right. I could have killed you, Nat.”

“Clint, I-”

He turned to face me, the blue of his eyes made ever deeper by the redness surrounding them as he held back tears. “I’m so goddamn selfish. I’m so sorry.”

I shook my head, shuffling toward him as best I could despite the various leads and tubes attached to me. “Clint-”

“Why would I do that? Why am I so fucking self-serving? God, The Voice was right, I’m no better than-”

“Clint!” I interrupted fiercely, my tone clipped and harsh. “That is enough. I will not listen to this. You are nothing like Loki. And you are not selfish. I made a choice – it might not have been the smartest one, but neither of us was fully aware of the risk. And I do not regret it, not for a second. It’s a choice I’d make over and over, because it was worth it. It…” I flushed, my passion overridden by my embarrassment. “It was the best I’ve ever felt. In every sense – physically, emotionally, and goddamn spiritually.”

He uncurled his fists, inching closer uncertainly. “But-”

“No.”

“I just-”

“Shut up, Clint.”

He sighed, moving back to lay beside me and pressing a gentle kiss to my nose. “… It was that good?”

I met his gaze slowly, a tremble of static shooting through my body and the memory of him; his teeth, his tongue, his hands. “I’ve never believed in God before, but… I’m pretty sure I did then.”

He smirked, brushing his lips against mine affectionately. “Glowing praise. If it’s any consolation, I’ve never…” Flushing red, he scratched the back of his neck shyly. “It’s never been that quick. Not by far.”

I grinned, rubbing my nose against his jaw. “I’ve just never, so I think I win.” He chuckled, his fingers finding the curve of my hip, shaking his head as I shimmied closer.

“Bruce was right, though. We should… I mean, we need to take it easy. At least until you’re stronger. I don’t want anything to happen to you, hon.” I pouted playfully, but paused when I caught sight of his serious expression, and sighed.

“Yeah. But hey… It’ll give me something to look forward to, right? A reason to improve?”

He smirked again, peppering kisses across my cheeks. “I’ll start planning it out. It’ll be the best night… Day… Weekend of your life.”

I swallowed at the implication, the connected ECG obnoxiously betraying my thrill. “I guess I’ll have to try and eat more, then."

Stephen rapped on the door before entering, and I hurriedly pressed a finger to my lips, inclining my head at the slumbering archer curled against my chest. He smiled wanly, moving to sit on the chair beside the bed. “I need to check your sutures, Natasha. All being well, you can get out of here today – but you’ll be on bedrest for the next few weeks, at least, and we’ll be checking on you several times a day. The perks of being an Avenger with a dedicated medical team,” he added, chuckling.

Nodding, I placed a tender kiss to the forehead of my sleeping love, caressing his cheek. “Clint, honey? Dr. Strange is here.”

Clint grunted as he stirred, blinking in brief confusion before his gaze cleared. “Huh? Oh. Hi, Stephen.”

The wizard dipped his head politely, hands tented in his lap. “Mr. Barton.”

“Stephen’s here to check my stitches. I may be able to leave later,” I added, grinning. But Clint frowned, glancing at the surgeon.

“Is that advisable?”

“It’s only upstairs, Clint. She’ll be in a wheelchair the whole way, and on bedrest for a few weeks. If we can find someone who is willing to wait on her hand and foot, that is,” he added, an eyebrow raised in self-amusement.

I muttered in Russian under my breath, then raised my voice. “I don’t need a wheelchair.”

“It’s not negotiable, Natasha. It’s the only way you’re leaving this room,” he replied smoothly, and stood. “Now. This is likely to be somewhat uncomfortable, Nat. You have stitches over most major swaths of skin, and examination will, unfortunately, require nudity, though I will provide a courtesy sheet to be moved around as needed. Do you understand?”

I nodded tightly, any humour lost from the situation at the idea of the doctor’s eyes on me. Hesitating, I met his gaze slowly. “While I’ve been unconscious?” I whispered, horrified when he nodded stoically.

“Not through choice, Ms. Romanoff. Life-saving measures were required, and there was no other option.”

“Who?”

Clint frowned at the question, but Stephen tipped his head, instinctively understanding the question. “Bruce did not feel able to work outside of your arms and legs. All other sutures were performed by myself. I’m sorry, Natasha.”

I swallowed dryly, cringing at the thought of the wizard looming over my naked, empty body. Stephen’s a professional. He did his job, and nothing more.

Are you sure?

I resisted the urge to groan aloud, hanging my head in my hand. Not you. God, please, not you.

The Voice laughed harshly – a grating sound that scraped the flesh from my brain. You didn’t say that when I got you away from Clint. Both times, it added meaningfully, and I flinched against my palm. raising my face to the doctor.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

Stephen nodded, glancing at the man still sharing the single bed. “Would you like Clint to stay?”

“… No.”

Both men seemed shocked as I spoke, sharing a look before Dr. Strange recovered, nodding. “As is your right, of course.”

I could feel Clint’s gaze on my face, and winced. “I’m not… I don’t want you to see me like that. Not yet. Please.” The archer nodded and kissed my cheek, murmuring his understanding before standing. “But… Will you wait outside? In case I need you?”

He offered me a reassuring smile as he turned, his hand on the door. “Always, Little Spider.”

“Okay. I… I’m ready.”

I lay on my bed on my back, covered from collarbone to thigh with a thin sheet, littered with bandages and tubes. Dr. Strange edges around the sheet, taking me in without a reaction – for which I was deeply grateful.

He flicked on his glasses, moving to lean over my left arm. “Are you ready to proceed?”

I hesitated, and he raised a curious eyebrow, silently prompting me. “Could you… Can you sit?” I stammered, intimidated by his looming figure. He nodded, immediately sliding onto the chair beside the bed, offering me a reassuring smile.

“If you need a break at any point, Natasha, or you begin to feel uncomfortable – you just let me know.” I nodded gratefully, and he took a deep breath as he began to unwrap my bandages, beginning at my wrist, the hush of the fabric the only sound in the silence.

Those bandages would be a good way to tie you up. I wonder how the good doctor-

“Can you… Talk? About anything, just… I can’t sit in silence. Please.”

“We used braided nylon for your sutures,” he responded immediately, his soft, steady tone bringing me back to focus, The Voice hissing angrily as I concentrated on his words. “It comes in clear and black dyed – while less attractive, I opted for the black. With the amount of work to be done, visibility trumped aesthetic, I’m afraid.” His fingers gently poked at my wrist, light but sure. “Absorbable materials are de rigeur for an individual wound – but considering the amount of bodily fluids involved, we opted, largely, for non-absorbable. There’s a significant number of sutures, and we didn’t want to compromise integrity in any way. You had four hundred and twelve stitches in total.”

His hands reached my elbow, and I swallowed as I felt the skin there tingle, tight under his handiwork. “… Do you want me to tell you how the wounds are doing, or would you rather not know?”

I shrugged, swallowing. “Anything. Just keep talking to me.”

“Your sinister – left – brachial artery was approximately 70% severed. Ironically, this caused more devastating effects; complete transection of the vessel would have allowed for proximal retraction and constriction, though repair would have been more difficult. We internally sutured the vessel, followed by soft tissue repair through the layers.”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” I murmured, my gaze still locked on the ceiling, and I felt him look at me.

“I’d do it every day if I had to, Natasha. While I wish it wasn’t needed, it was a task I had no qualms about performing. I care for you, as I care for the rest of the team,” he added, continuing his way up my shoulder, my muscles tightening involuntarily as his knuckles brushed my throat.

“Stay down, slut.”

I blinked in surprise and stammered, the ECG verbalising my distress, and causing Stephen to pause until I nodded tightly. “Keep going.”

He raised a bandage on my shoulder, the latex of his gloves catching on my skin dryly. “Here, there was only superficial damage. Four sutures – Bruce’s handiwork. He is more adept at cutaneous stitching than more invasive procedures. Fortunately, you have a surgeon on your side,” he noted, a smile in his voice as he rounded the bed to repeat the process.

I was counting the tally in my head, and Stephen hesitated at three hundred and nine, halfway up my left leg. “Natasha…”

“I have another one hundred and three stitches to be examined, Stephen. I know.”

He swallowed audibly, the faintest tremor in his hands. “Would you like me to break them down?” I nodded gratefully, squeezing my eyes shut, and he exhaled sharply. “There are... Seventeen stitches in your left breast, and three on the nipple. Fourteen and four on the right, respectively. Thirty-six on your abdomen and ribs; the pre-existing wounds were cleaned and treated, but suturing was no longer possible. A further twenty-one on your pelvis – six on the left, nine on the right, and six in… On the pubis.”

It was the first time he stammered with embarrassment, and I couldn’t help but smile wanly. “And the last eight?”

“Internal.”

My eyes snapped open, locked on his apologetic face, his brow furrowed in pain. “I’m sorry, Natasha. We… I had to stop the bleeding. I was as perfunctory as I could be, I promise. I haven’t checked those sutures since they were applied.”

“What did I do?” I whispered, horrified. He swallowed again, looking away.

“The tissue was already thin and inflamed as a result of the… existing cleanse trauma. You also have extensive internal scarring from historical injury. The serration of the knife was such that, when you removed it, there was significant damage sustained. I repaired the area in as efficient and swift a manner as I could.”

I felt myself go red, breath hitching in my throat. “You know about the… The soap?”

He nodded tersely, jaw set. “Bruce thought I should be aware of the pre-existing risk of infection. But even if he hadn’t, I would have assumed something similar upon examination.”

My head dropped back, shame flowing through me violently, causing my stomach to churn. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Where would you prefer that I start?”

I gestured to my chest reluctantly, jaw clenched. “May as well work our way down.”

He nodded again, moving wordlessly to my side and lowering the sheet slowly, his motions considerate and careful as he smoothed it across my ribs. “I’ll make this as quick and painless as I can.”

I could only nod wordlessly, eyes latched on the ceiling, the machine by my side matching the staccato beating of my heart. His delicate fingers peeled back the adhesive bandages, gently probing at my chest and murmuring quietly. “The sutures are healing well. I was particularly concerned about this one – the positioning, close the breastbone, makes healing problematic, as it is prone to rubbing. But it has settled well, with no sign of infection or irritation.”

“The larger wound on this side was easier, but the nipple was almost completely severed. I did what I could to reattach the nerves, but you may experience some loss of sensation.” His fingertips were timid but my body clenched at the contact, his breathed apologies doing little to still my anxiety.

Mercifully, his hands left my chest, skirting the wounds of my ribcage, both new and old. “The existing lacerations were of most concern, both due to depth and existing infection. We performed a minor debridement, removing some infected tissue. You seem to be responding well to the antibiotics, however. The infection is still present, but receding.”

His hands paused by my navel, entirely uncertain. “Would… Would you rather I move the sheet? I’m not sure what… Where you would prefer to be covered.”

“Leave it,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Please.”

He hummed affirmatively, his gentle touch pulling back ever more bandages, tenderly probing at the space between thigh and abdomen. “This… This is why you can’t walk anywhere, Natasha. It seems you were aiming for the femoral, or perhaps the iliac. But this was almost the last set of injuries, and you had grown weak. If you had moved directly from the brachial to here… Well, you barely survived as it is.”

His hands were barely felt now, moving to the soft skin of my pubic mound, a low tremble settling into my bones.

I bet he’s loving this.

“This one is fine, too. A relatively simple suture chain, it should heal cleanly with minimal scarring – perhaps a minor interruption of the hair growth.” He smoothed the sheet back up to my collarbones, and I met his eyes, a quivering, heaving breath escaping me. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I replied with a desperate sob, wiping my tear-stained cheeks. “No, I’m not. But we should continue. If we stop now, I… We can’t stop now.”

He nodded, offering me a terse, sympathetic smile. “In that case, I shall continue.” His feet dragged on the floor as he moved, lowering the end of the bed and sitting down. “I… I have to look. I’m sorry.”

I only cried.

He took his own deep, preparatory breath, his fingers brushing my ankle. “Okay.” He cleared his throat, shaking off any emotion, separating himself from the guilt of what he had to do. “Natasha, I’m going to need you to shuffle down a little, if you could.” I obeyed silently, tears flowing freely as my knees slipped from the end of the bed. “That’s great, thank you. Now, bring your feet up – as close to your behind as you can – and let your knees fall apart.”

A ragged sob escaped me as the balls of my feet met the soft cotton, thighs seized and glued together.

“Take your time, Nat. I’m here.”

My legs shifted slowly, the muscles contacting and fighting for every inch.

“That’s excellent, Natasha. You’re doing so well.” My breath hitched in my throat, fingers curling into my palms and breaking the skin. “I’m going to insert a small speculum now, okay? You may feel a little pressure, but it shouldn’t be painful.”

There was a hesitation, both infinite and brief, before I felt the pressure.

“Stay still, Natalia, or it will be worse.”

The feet and hands were chained down.

The bar between the knees, digging into the flesh.

The tearing, tugging, cutting, dragging.

The feeling of having the core ripped out and snipped away.

The wet thud as it landed.

The screaming, and writhing.

The punishment, the blade twisted inside.

“You’re done. Now there is no risk. No distraction.”

The pain. The blood.

“He will be in to see you shortly. We need to make sure you can still perform, of course.”

“-sha? Nat? Natasha, you need to relax, okay? You are still weak. I’ll stop, but I can’t get it out if you don’t release me.”

“Если ты когда-нибудь снова прикоснешься ко мне, я отрежу твой член и скормлю его тебе,” I snarled, pulling tighter on the arm pinned between my legs.

“Sorry, Widow, my Russian is rusty,” he gasped, my foot pressing firmly on his throat.

“’Touch me again, and I will cut off your prick and feed it to you’,” I hissed, broken accent spitting past bared teeth.

“Natasha, I just needed to examine the-”

“Natalia,” I growled, bending his wrist back. “You examine nothing. You touch nothing. You are not authorised.”

“Authorised?” Pale blue flashed between my knees, his free hand held up imploringly. “I asked your consent, Natash- Natalia. I… The sutures. Your injuries.” He gasped again, the air audibly painful in his compressed throat. “I am Doctor Stephen Strange – an Avenger, and a Master of the Mystic Arts. I was a surgeon. I attended to you after you received a great number of lacerations.”

“Strange,” I repeated at a mutter, the sound sparking something distant in my terrified mind.

“Yes. Myself and Dr. Bruce Banner administered care. You received over four hundred stitches. Clint Barton, your partner, is waiting just outside this room.”

Clint.

I gasped, muscles relaxing immediately, and Stephen backed away, coughing, one hand clasped to his quickly darkening throat. “S… Stephen…”

He glanced up at me, his other hand raised imploringly. “That’s it. It’s just me. You’re safe, Nat. I promise.”

Trembling fingers touched my mouth, stunned and horrified. “S-Stephen, I… I don’t…”

He shook his head, his own hands lowering. “Natasha- Natasha?” he clarified, and I nodded once. “Natasha, you had existing, extensive damage, and I would have been a pretty terrible doctor if I didn’t notice you were missing some stuff down there. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I imagine it was not a pleasant experience. I should have predicted that this may be a triggering event.”

I whimpered softly, nodding my head. “I never remembered before… But now I remember.” I looked up once more, mortified. “Stephen, I… I’m so sorry.”

He rolled his shoulder and neck in turn, then smiled weakly. “No damage done. Though I may be drinking my meals for a few days,” he added playfully, touching a finger to his throat with a wince, before meeting my gaze seriously. “Natasha… The speculum is still…” I flinched and clenched instinctively, and he raised his hands. “No, no… Be careful. Without it being steadied, there’s a chance it’s caught on your stitches. If you try and push it, or remove it yourself… I… I need to get it out. Ideally, I need to re-examine you, to make sure there’s been no further damage, but I understand if you can’t do that.” He took a deep breath as he moved closer, eyeing me warily, like a flighty animal. “But at the very least, it needs to be removed. And if you’d prefer, I can put you under to do that – but I’d really rather not, given that you took so long to come out of your induced coma. There’s a slim, but very real, risk that you won’t wake up again.”

I hesitated, watching him carefully. “… Restrain me.”

Startled, he paused, one foot comically suspended above the floor. “… Why?”

“I can’t die. Not now. And I can’t… I can’t risk hurting you again – hurting you more. So use your glowing whip thing, and restrain me. It’s the only way we’ll get through this.”

“It’ll hurt.”

“I don’t care.”

“It’ll likely make the… You’ll probably remember more.”

“Stephen.” I met his gaze steadily, the ECG slowing as an eerie calmness set in. “Just do it.”

Slowly, his hands began to move. “You’re sure? Once I start… I can’t stop suddenly if you change your mind. I don’t think we’ll get another shot at this.” I sighed in acceptance, resting my head back against the bed, letting my knees part once more, wincing at the pain inside me.

The lash burnt against my skin, and I cried out, gritting my teeth against the scream as it wrapped under the bed and secured my other wrist, tight and immovable.

The binds around my legs snaked up to my knees before they grew taut, holding me still.

Helpless.

Stephen met my eyes, and I nodded around the trembling of my body.

“Well, well, well. I’m glad I could be the first.”

The HYDRA man, with his dark eyes and tangled hair, was one who favoured me.

I cried, trashing against my bindings, but they held fast.

His rough hands on my thighs, pushing and parting, made me freeze. “You’ve always been so good to me, little girl. Let’s hope they didn’t ruin that perfect hole.”

“Please… Please. I’ve always been good, like you said. But I can’t… Not now. It hurts. It hurts so much.”

“It’s okay, little girl. I’m going to make it feel better.”

It hurt. God, it hurt so much. It felt like he was fucking me with a hot poker, burning everything away. Unmaking me.

Maybe now you have learned your lesson.

You? It was… It was you? You did this?

An insurance policy, in case you survived. I wanted to make sure nobody would ever be able to touch you again.

“Fuck you,” I hissed aloud, vaguely aware of the faint sensation of pulling between my legs. “Fuck you. I’ll heal, and I’ll screw him again. I will make love to that man every day.”

Not if it hurts too much, you won’t.

“You wanna bet? I’ll scream and cry and do it anyway. I’ll let him put it somewhere else. We will find a way, together, because the Red Room will not fucking win. The Soldier will not fucking win. And you – you will not fucking win.”

“Nat?”

I opened my eyes, squeezed shut as I had shouted, to find Stephen hovering over me, his blue-grey eyes full of concern. “Are you with me?” I smiled weakly, and nodded.

“I’m here. I’m with you.”

“I’m all done. Are you… Can I remove the restraints?” I nodded again, and the tension released from my limbs, leaving me to slide myself into the proffered gown as he averted his gaze. Sighing, he removed his gloves, slumping into the chair beside me, a haunted look in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” I murmured, dragging the thin blanket back over myself with a wince.

He glanced up, nodding slowly, scrubbing a hand over his face. “The sutures are intact, and healthy, for the most part. They’ll finish dissolving over the next few days. There was some minor bleeding during our… Interruption, but it should be fine. If there’s any issues, you know where I am.” He sighed again, leaning forward onto his knees. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head, then nodded, then shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“That last part… You spoke aloud. It sounded as though you were arguing with someone.” He smiled weakly, standing once more. “It also sounded like you won.”

My own grin was hesitant, thin and painful. “Maybe not the war… But I think, maybe, the battle.”

He waved his hand, a circular seal over the door brightening and then snapping from existence. “Oh, that - I had to block the door,” he explained, when my eyebrow arched curiously. “You started screaming, and Barton tried to get in.”

On cue, the door flew open, and my archer bolted into the room, his knife brandished and ready. “Nat?” he questioned sharply, his head turned to me, but his gaze firmly on the wizard, who simply began to circle his hands to open a portal.

“I’m fine,” I murmured, and then, inexplicably, I sobbed. “I’m not fine. But it wasn’t him, Clint. It was… It wasn’t him.”

Strange turned to us briefly, his sympathetic gaze flicking between us both. “I will take my leave. Natasha… You know where I am, and I shall see you later this evening – no examination required, I promise. Don’t forget; no walking. Clint… Take her home. And look after this one; she’s been through enough. If you harm her, it won’t just be her you have to contend with.” A last long, pitying look at me, and a rub to the bruise forming quickly on his pale throat, and he was gone.

Clint was gentle as he could be as he manoeuvred me into his bedroom, but that didn’t stop me wincing at the pressure.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he whispered, bundling me into his arms. “Are you okay?”

I nodded hesitantly, leaning into his chest. “I’m okay,” I answered softly. “…Wait.”

“Hm?”

“Can you take me to the bathroom?”

“Ah. I forgot about that,” he admitted, chuckling, and placing a tender kiss to my hair. “Sure thing.”

He kept me in his arms, nestled lovingly against him, and I couldn’t help the soft purr of contentment that built in my chest. “What do I… Shall I leave? I’m not supposed to leave you alone, but I can… Stand outside?”

I rolled my eyes playfully as he placed me lightly on my feet, kissing his cheek. “I need your help. With my gown,” I added, as a panic-stricken expression crossed his face.

“Doesn’t it… Go up?”

“I want to see,” I explained softly, smiling weakly as he winced. “You don’t have to, but… I need to.”

He hesitated briefly, then placed a chaste kiss to my shoulder blade as he moved to stand behind me. “Together, Little Spider. Always.”

Fingers brushed my skin as he moved my hair away, slowly undoing the bow at the nape of my neck. I held the gown to my front as his arms slipped inside, hands gingerly finding my hips, his chin against my shoulder. Our eyes met in our reflection and he nodded gently.

I flinched as the fabric hit the floor, taking in the macabre map of black sutures wound like rivers across my body, the flesh around shaded with blues and yellows. Between old and new, there was barely an inch of skin left unmarred and unmarked. The inside of my biceps were a furious red between the stitches, my abused arteries protesting their forced closure. The curve of my breasts were intersected by dividing lines, the nylon knotted beside each discoloured nipple. Further wounds trailed by abdomen, ending in a crooked, three-inch line where my pubic hair used to be. And beneath all that, there was bones. Miles and miles of sharp, protruding bones, my ribcage on display and hips sharp enough to cut glass.

You’re a fucking horror show.

I am what you made me.

I winced again, gaze flicking to my partner uncertainly.

His face was a mask of impassive emotionlessness as his eyes roamed my body, hesitating only briefly on each new stitch, before finally meeting my own once more. “…Well?” I prompted, throat bobbing in the mirror before us.

His hands traced my abdomen lightly as they snaked around, holding me in his arms as gently as he could. “What do you think?”

“I think…” I swallowed dryly, a low, fearful tremble working its way through my muscles. “I think I need help.” He nodded slowly, patiently, leaving me the opportunity to continue. “I think… It’s a terrible thing, what I’ve done to myself. And I think…” I took a deep, steadying breath, the shakes subsiding slowly. “I think I must be really strong to survive all of this. Stronger than I realise.”

He smiled at last, placing a gentle kiss to my cheek. “I agree… But there’s something you forgot.”

I frowned, turning in his arms carefully, my suture-tight muscles refusing to raise further than his waist. “What’s that?”

Hand finding my jaw, his lips brushed mine, sweet and loving. “As I believe I’ve said once before… You’re beautiful, Nat. You will always be beautiful to me.” His thumb skirted my cheek, catching a tear shed unconsciously, before kissing the damp spot.

“Now… Let’s get you to bed, little one.”

1 note · View note

psychicdragoncoffee · 8 months

Text

1/15/2014

Lacking the Motivation To Write

Since November I haven't had the motivation to really write. I put most of the blame on the fact the chair I had bought around the time wasn't the most comfortable. But that might not be the only reason. There was also a bit of a hyper-fixation shift either.

I had been mostly focused on My Hero Academia and the fixation went right back to Kingdom Hearts. I'm not really hyper-fixated on anything right now though.

I've had some ideas I thought I would try writing out but because of recent events I decided not to write. Covid

At the beginning of last week, I started feeling sick. I had thought the entire time that I might have caught a cold and it ended up being more severe than normal.

As normal I had the first sign as a bit of a sore throat and feeling more thirsty than usual. That plus a pretty bad headache.

Going to sleep that first night was a struggle. Throughout the night I felt either too cold or too hot. I didn't suspect anything at the time because the room I slept in was usually cold.

When I woke up I was pretty drained. It didn't help that I wasn't able to sleep too much the night before.

Either way, throughout the week I have been going between sleeping, sitting on my bed working on a blanket, or listening to videos on YouTube. I have been occasionally playing video games. But not too often.

One odd side effect is that I haven't been feeling too hungry. So I haven't been eating a lot outside whatever had been made for dinner. However I have been eating some food outside of dinner, so I'm not starving myself. It's just that lately eating is more for the sake of keeping my energy levels as low as they are instead of being urged to eat or snack. Even with drinks I've mostly just been wanting to drink water even though I've had occasional coffee or cola. So I am at least keeping myself well hydrated.

0 notes

noctomania · 11 months

Text

I'm trying to full out not buy weed anymore so I'm on a sobriety journey in a way, and it has been hard. Appetite gone, can't sleep, occasional nausea, headache, and what's also fun is because of my lack of sleep my eyes now flicker in the dark.

Also now I'm having dreams again which means nightmares. Woke up from one tonight that was me getting stabbed. I was walking down a street and this guy was walking towards me and i walked past him but then he turned to follow me and i told him to back up. Then he grabbed me and started slicing my arm up. It was weird bc it was like we were both walking while this was happening. Another guy was approaching (also just calmly walking even tho im being sliced up) and I say "sir please helphelphelphelp". I think he stabs the other guy and walks away with me and i hugged him so tight. Then i woke up. One funny thing was after being sliced I thought in my dream "maybe i should call out of work"

On the plus side i do still have some edibles that wouldn't do shit for me while i was dependent on weed but in a while maybe a week or two they will be great. I think if i buy anything going forward it'll be just edibles, and if someone offers to smoke me up i won't turn it down. But i think having flower on hand at all times is not good for someone like me. It's helped me tolerate the past decade of being nocturnal but i need to start adjusting.

Fingers crossed.

0 notes

blackvail22 · 1 year

Text

9/24/23 — 1:10am

theres a lot that happened within the past two days its insane. on the 22nd, i had to train this new associate for the whole day. he's rlly nice, and he's fun to talk to. he caught on really quick! im excited to work with him

also, that same day, i got back with my ex!!! it could be a dumb decision (because this is the 3rd time) but i really want things to work out. again, no one is going to know besides you... and... my coworkers, but thats different

the coworker that gave me his number, he gave me a note at work that says "im awkward so i dont know how to say this out loud, but i like you" and then taped a soda tab on it (it was the "hug" meaning one, which... i dont like but could be worse). so! ive told the new associate i have a boyfriend. im going to tell them i have a boyfriend, but im telling those im closest to at work that its because i dont want my worker to hit on me anymore

if he keeps going after that, i have to report him. im not letting someone get away with that, not this time.

i have to start standing up for myself... im just scared because of that teenager who got killed because she rejected her (adult) co-worker, im afraid its going to be me. this is the reason i dont like hearing abt death.

on another note, back to abt my boyfriend....

im writing this as soon as i ended the call with him. i miss him already. i wonder how and why my brain changes how i react to things because of a label. i feel so clingy. i want to talk to him more. he does make me happy, and i hope i make him happy too

oh, i also bought this candle... its supposed to "smell like london" and it says the scent is "afternoon biscuits and tea" so thats nice. i bought it to think of you, nd its nice that the color of the candle matches my room

oh last thing ! i took my permit drivers test and i passed it! feels so surreal because i never thought i was ever gonna end up driving but here we are lol

anyways i like this song

6:06am —

dude i couldnt fall asleep until like 4:30am and my mom woke me up at 5:30, screaming at me to find something i didnt have!!! i found it! and it was in her bag, a place she didnt look (because she only looked one place!!!!!!) at least i can sleep now, but idek if i can do that because i feel awake now. im going to sob. FUVKKK I HAVE A HEADACHE AND SINUS PAIN NOW IM GOING TO CRY DUDE. and the fact that she walked up the stairs to scream at me (she never walks up the stairs)???? ooo. im so mad bro! like im going to wake up whenever i have my alarms set and im going to punch a wall because i cant sleep without getting interrupted. IM PISSED TF OFF NOW bevause i havent had adequate sleep since my last off day (a week ago) and i dont have a lot of sleep for tomorrow because i have to wake up at 6am for an appointment thats 2hrs away. sure, ill sleep in the car, but with my mom? she wont let it happen. and i dont have another off day untl thursday, and i cant sleep in for that one either becahse i have another goddamn appointment in the morning. like, is this what being an adult is? being harrassed by coworkers, never having enough sleep, never able to fall asleep.... it cant be cause those all haopened when i was a teenager too. stuck in that cycle, though, and i cant wait for that cycle to finally end.

bad things always tend to happen to me. is it because i bring bad energy? AHHHHHHH i just need to scream cry

i am going to try to sleep now. I've rambled on for way too long

11:17pm

been incredibly sad today. i think it was my lack of sleep, or maybe it was my mom yelling at me and waking me up. still, my heart feels so ... heavy. i cant help but feel bad for people who love me. if i was them, i would choose anyone else to love endlessly. im undeserving of it all, anyway. i dont feel happy tonight. i hope tomorrow's better. i dont know what changed and made me feel this way because when i woke up and went to work, everything was fine until half way through my shift. it didnt really effect me, but them saying "oh, fun's over.. [my name]'s in a bad mood again.. everyone get away" keeps playing in my mind. it didnt affect me then, so i dont know why i keep thinking about it

i just want to fit on my roof and look at the moon, but its been rising really early so i dont think ill be able to see it now. ill watch some livestreams from space of the earth/the moon instead. something to comfort me while listening to music. i havent been able to watch any videos all the way through recently.. havent even been able to watch those gaming streams i like. hopefully ill feel better before i go to sleep

#Spotify

0 notes

stop-pressing-e · 1 year

Text

The Lost Swan - Chapter 16

Prev chapter | New chapter Prologue

/Whoops, nearly forgot to post this. Anyway enjoy reading!/

Mentions of: Vague mentions of attempted suicide

The house was silent by his lack of presence when she woke up. It was empty due to the lack of furniture and barren from the renovation in the process. The living room was in the middle of replacing the wooden floor for a better material since it was left rotting away by the mildew and decay when he purchased it. It’s going to be a nice rich red oak and she can’t wait for the day to dance across the room without a care and barefoot. She’ll make him join her.

It has been only a few weeks of living here and Natasha still can’t believe it was happening. She still felt like she was asleep and she could finally dream a dream that she hoped to be real. And here she is standing in the centre of it, her happiness flooding her head by the future they’ll be creating together.

When there’s happiness, there comes the lingering dread at the back of her head. Two months have passed since she was rescued but that still doesn’t stop the fear and paranoia that crept on her body. Her head was still sensitive from the effects of it, she was still getting headaches from thinking too much to the point of fainting a couple of times. The recent fainting spell happened when she stepped out from the shower and it resulted in her slipping on the wet floor. It had scared Krauser that day when he didn’t catch her on time and when she woke up fifteen minutes later she was cradled in his arms. It resorted to taking baths while under supervision and there were the occasional sponge baths until the shower had the bench installed inside.

Krauser hardly left her side for both of their sake, mostly for her, and whichever room she could go in he’s behind her like a guard dog in the sanctuary of their own home. When it involves him going out to get something she was brought along to keep an eye on her in case she tried to do something life threatening when she was home alone. That has happened a couple of times due and he’s not allowing it to happen again under his watch.

The only reason Natasha was alone in the house today was because Krauser had managed to get her to sleep before he went out to collect some things at the post office. She hardly sleeps as of lately and he would wake up in the middle of the night to bring her back from her current location to the bed and try to get her to sleep. Since she woke up she had nothing to do but wander the barren house like a ghost while she waited for her lover to return.

By the time Krauser had finally returned home he found Natasha sitting in the middle of the living room drawing. Papers were scattered everywhere done in a few mediums she could have until she could paint again. He picked up one of the sketches and saw it was a gory drawing of Caraboose laying dead and done with soft pastels. The details to the wounds and his expressions were exactly as he remembered when she killed him. Most of the drawings were related to death; people he’s guessing to be her past assassination targets, headless bodies in lab coats and dark uniforms, and various drawings of his death done in colourful ways than what he was given. What Krauser didn’t expect were a few drawings of Nikki and including drawings of himself, both in various kinds of murders by Natasha’s hands.

“Natasha.” He called her out, pulling her focus away from her current drawing, a non-violent kind this time, to look at him. Her eye glazed over when she looked at him, almost lost. “Hmm?” “Do you know what you’re doing?” He asked her, gesturing to the drawings she had done. Her head crane slowly to look at her work, humming softly. “I was…drawing, umm…” She picked up the closest drawing to inspect it. It was a drawing of Krauser decapitated and Natasha was holding his head to her chest. A moment of recognition returned her senses, a flicker of fright in her eye.

“Did I…Do this, love?” Natasha scrunched up the drawing and threw it away. She caught sight of the rest of the drawings and almost gasped aloud. “How did I…? All I remember is looking for papers to draw how our home should look like and…and…” “It’s okay, dear.” Krauser picked her up as if she weighs nothing, a mental reminder to get her to eat a full meal since she’s been losing weight lately, and held her in his arms. “I’ll go burn them soon. Were you ok being alone today?”

“I’m okay…” She whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and tucking her head under his chin. “How long were you out?” “Too long.” He said and carried her to the kitchen. “I went to get dinner for us too. A new place has opened, you might like it.” “I’m not hungry.” “You still need to eat. It’s not good for you.” This morning she barely finished a bowl of cereal and in the afternoon he had managed to get her to eat an apple before getting her to sleep.

“I keep thinking of-” She was cut off by his touch on the back of her head, gentle and tender.

“I know. We can fix it. Small steps.” Krauser assured her after he set her down on the kitchen counter. He barely had a chance to pull away when Natasha pulled him into a kiss. It was needy and desperate, full of yearning from her. Her hands were on his neck and soon his hands were cupping her face to deepen the kiss, returning the same feelings back to her. When they pulled away for air, she rested her forehead against his, staring into beautiful icy blue eyes.

“Am I a burden to you?” Her question almost threw him off after their heated kiss. “This house. The headaches…I don’t want to burden you because of me.” Krauser shook his head. “Never. I promise you I’ll take care of you and I’m doing it.” He kissed her again, softly at first and when he kissed her again, and harder this time, her head was swimming. “You are all I have and I’m never letting anything or anyone take you away from me again. Baby, you’re my future.”

Natasha’s heart was racing, tears so close to spilling by those words, that dreaded fear was washed away and replaced with content and overwhelming bliss. “I love you, Jack.” She held back a sob when she chuckled, her lips quivering as she smiled. “I will always love you and no one can force my mind to change that feeling for you.”

“I love you too.” Krauser kissed her once more. “I love each and every one of your identities as you are all of them. I fell in love with you as Dullahan first. I love you when you’re Trish. And I love you the most, Natasha. I love you.”

Natasha wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him closer. Krauser’s hands automatically went for her hips and one of them grabbed her ass to hear that sweet moan. Desires were burning in their eyes.

“Kiss me again you fucking bastard.” She let out a soft hiss and bit the corner of her bottom lip. “Make me remember those feelings we had before.” Krauser gave her his signature smirk as one of his hands slipped under her shirt to feel the cooling sensation of her skin and the dismembered scar below the waist. “Gladly.”

#Jack Krauser #Dullahan #Krauser/Dullahan #Hatter's writing #The Lost Swan #Jack Krauser X OC #Krauser X OC #Resident Evil Krauser

1 note · View note

bradshawsbaby · 2 years

Text

In Sickness and In Health

Pairing: Rooster x Wife!Reader

Author’s Note: Based on this Anon request that I recently received!

Warnings: Pregnancy, nausea and vomiting related to morning sickness, perinatal anxiety, a ton of fluff and nothing but.

You’re not sure who originally coined the term morning sickness, but you’d like to have a chat with them.

Morning sickness would imply nausea and vomiting that struck only in the early hours of the day, leaving the rest of your schedule wide open for all the other tasks that daily life required.

Morning sickness should not involve having to run to the nearest bathroom in the afternoon, evening, and middle of the night to empty the contents of your stomach on an almost daily basis.

Yet, somehow, that’s what the first trimester of your pregnancy had entailed. You found yourself feeling nauseous and sick at all times of the day, not just when the sun was rising and the birds were singing.

Yeah, you would definitely love to have a chat with whoever had come up with the phrase “morning sickness.”

The perinatal anxiety you’d been diagnosed with during your first trimester hadn’t helped things either. Whenever you were out running errands or visiting with friends, you found yourself constantly worried that you were going to have to excuse yourself to throw up. It was especially hard in those first couple months, when you and Bradley hadn’t even told anybody about your pregnancy.

You had just entered your second trimester, and you were hoping that your hormones would start settling down soon, as your doctor had assured you they would. A couple weeks earlier, once you had hit the twelve-week mark, you and Bradley had made the decision to tell your family and friends that you were expecting, which was a relief in and of itself. You were glad not to have to hide it anymore, and to be more honest about your frequent trips to the ladies’ room.

Still, even with everyone now knowing, you were looking forward to putting the worst of your morning sickness phase behind you. The constant nausea and frequent vomiting always left you feeling depleted and exhausted, which then led to feelings of guilt over your lack of energy. Bradley was amazing through all of it, as you knew he would be, but you hated the thought of being a burden or putting more stress on his already overworked shoulders.

At fourteen weeks, you were sure the worst of it had passed. That was, at least, until you suddenly woke up in the middle of the night with a pounding headache and the worst nausea you’d experienced since the first few weeks of your pregnancy.

Letting out a soft moan of discomfort, you turned your head slowly to glance over at your sleeping husband. Bradley didn’t seem to be disturbed by your movements, which you were thankful for. He was so protective, and he worried about you and the baby constantly. You didn’t want him to wake up and have another reason to be concerned.

Carefully sliding out of bed and landing on quiet feet, you hurried out of your bedroom and made it to the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind you and flicking on the lights. You made it to your knees just in time to empty your stomach of the dinner you had so carefully prepared earlier in the evening for you and Bradley.

Sitting back on your heels, you wiped your mouth with a tissue and ran a trembling hand down your clammy face. Normally, you felt better after getting sick, at least for a little while, but the nausea didn’t pass this time. The taste of bile in the back of your throat certainly didn’t help matters.

You attempted to rise off the bathroom floor to reach for the mouthwash sitting on the counter, but found yourself falling back to your knees and retching once more before you could even get your feet under you. A couple tears slipped out of the corners of your eyes and trailed down your cheeks as you heaved over and over again, your stomach flipping uncomfortably as your body attempted to expel contents that it didn’t even seem to possess at this point. All that came up was bile as you continued to cough and sputter.

With your head still buried miserably in the toilet, you hadn’t even heard the sound of your husband’s footsteps coming up behind you. You didn’t know he was there until one strong hand was suddenly resting on your back, the other gently pulling your hair away from your face.

“Hey,” Bradley murmured soothingly, his voice thick and husky with sleep. “Hey, baby, it’s okay,” he whispered, rubbing slow circles on your back as you continued to gag.

When the convulsions in your stomach finally seemed to ease, you lifted your head slightly and turned, collapsing into your husband’s arms as the two of you sat sprawled out on the floor. A shudder passed through you and you couldn’t stop the tears that suddenly started falling, burying your face in Bradley’s chest. It was a little bit chilly tonight, so he had worn one of his old T-shirts to bed, and the smell of it, the smell of him, brought you immediate comfort.

“It’s okay, honey. It’s okay,” Bradley said softly, continuing to rub your back slowly as he held you securely in his grasp. “Do you feel any better?” he asked after a moment, lifting your chin with a finger and gently wiping away a tear that was still glistening on your flushed cheek.

“No,” you admitted, your voice a little hoarse as you gazed up at him. “I still feel so nauseous and I don’t know why. There’s literally nothing left in my stomach to throw up,” you explained miserably, wiping at your damp face.

Bradley rested a tender hand against your forehead, trying to check if you felt feverish. Your skin was mildly warm, but it seemed like it was from the exertion of getting sick more than anything else.

“I thought this was finally over,” you whimpered, your stomach starting to churn uncomfortably once more.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry,” Bradley replied, genuine sorrow in his voice. He hated watching you suffer in any way. “Do you want me to go get you some crackers?”

The thought of the flavorless Saltines you’d been consuming for the past three months filled you with nothing but disgust in that moment. Shaking your head, you ran a hand over your mouth, feeling like you were going to get sick again. “No, I—”

You couldn’t even finish that sentence before you were twisting away from Bradley, vomiting once again.

“Okay, honey, it’s okay,” Bradley murmured, holding your hair back for what felt like the millionth time since you had gotten pregnant. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

As miserable as you currently felt, his words did bring you comfort. Bradley always knew how to make you feel better, even in the worst circumstances. It was one of the many things you loved so much about him.

The two of you stayed together like that on the bathroom floor for the next hour, Bradley rubbing your back and holding your hair and whispering soothing words to you every time you got sick. When the nausea finally seemed to pass, enough that you felt you might be able to go back to sleep, Bradley got you a cup of water to gently sip so that you could try to get the taste of bile out of your mouth.

“Alright, baby, let me help you,” Bradley said, holding out his hands to carefully pull you up off the bathroom floor.

You assured him that you were fine, but as soon as he saw you take one wobbly step, he was scooping you up into his arms to carry you back to your bedroom.

“There you go, honey,” he whispered softly, laying you down on your side of the bed and gently pulling the covers up around you. He brushed your hair back from your face and ran his thumb across your cheek affectionately, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

You curled up under the blankets as he left the room, then watched as he returned a couple moments later with a whole slew of supplies in hand. “I know you said you didn’t want the crackers right now, but I’ll leave them here in case you need them later,” he explained, setting a sleeve of Saltines on your bedside table. He then placed a bottle of water beside it, along with the mints that sometimes made you feel better when you were nauseous. “And this is for if you feel sick again, okay?” he added, holding up the bucket you normally kept under the kitchen sink. “If I fall asleep and you’re getting sick, just wake me up.”

“Baby, it’s so late. And you have to go to work tomorrow. I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” you told him, your voice strained and laced with exhaustion.

“I don’t care what time it is, baby. I don’t care if I get no sleep at all. I just want to make sure you’re alright,” Bradley told you, his voice serious.

He kissed you again, then crawled back into bed beside you, resting a hand on your tiny bump that had just started showing a week or so ago. Despite how poorly you felt at the moment, you smiled a little bit, remembering that it was all for the best reason.

You managed to sleep through the rest of the night, but woke the next morning feeling groggy and nauseous once more. Reaching over to your bedside table, you grabbed one of the mints Bradley had left out for you and popped it into your mouth, hoping that would ease some of the nausea. Your husband was still sound asleep beside you, which meant that it must be early yet. The light filtering into your bedroom, still gray with the pre-dawn, confirmed it.

With everything your husband had been doing for you these past couple months, you wanted to make sure that you were still doing as much for him as you possibly could. Quietly climbing out of bed, you stood on wobbly legs, clutching your head as the room seemed to spin for a moment. You were determined to get to the kitchen so that you could make some breakfast for Bradley before he had to leave for work, nausea be damned.

The dizzy spell passed after a few seconds, so you silently tiptoed out of your bedroom, making your way to the kitchen. The smell of bacon and eggs made you sick, as you’d learned the hard way several weeks ago, but you still seemed to be able to make pancakes and waffles with no issues. Grabbing everything you needed from the pantry and refrigerator, you set the ingredients out on the kitchen counter, grabbing the edge of it when your vision started swimming and the room felt like it was spinning again.

It seemed like Bradley had a sixth sense for whenever you were in trouble because as you were squeezing your eyes shut, your husband appeared in the kitchen, alarm etched across his face as he wrapped his arms around you and held you close to his chest.

“Baby, what are you doing?” he demanded, his gaze quickly taking in everything you had set out on the counter.

Taking a deep breath, you opened your eyes and looked up at him. “I’m going to make you breakfast,” you told him, a hint of stubbornness in your voice.

“Honey, no, you don’t need to do that,” Bradley insisted gently, attempting to pull you away from the counter so that he could lead you back to bed.

“Yes, I do. You need to eat something,” you retorted, trying to steer yourself back to your waffle-making.

“I’ll get something on base, baby,” Bradley assured you. “C’mon, honey, you’re not feeling well. I want you to lay down for a little while.”

“Bradley, I’m not—” Just as your frustration flared, another dizzy spell hit and you clutched your forehead as you stumbled into your husband’s chest.

“Babe?” Bradley asked, holding onto you tightly. His voice was laced with worry and edged with a tiny hint of fear. “That’s it, you’re going back to bed whether you like it or not,” he told you, lifting you up into his arms and carrying you back to your bedroom.

You didn’t put up a fight this time.

Closing your eyes, you tried to take a few deep breaths as Bradley laid you down, praying that the dizziness would pass quickly.

“How long have you been feeling dizzy?” Bradley asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and gently lifting your arm so that he could press two fingers to the inside of your wrist, checking your pulse. It was steady, but slightly weak.

“Since I woke up,” you admitted, feeling a little nervous. You didn’t want to push yourself too hard if it meant causing any harm to the baby. “I was hoping it would just pass.”

“You’re pale, baby,” Bradley murmured, brushing a hand across your clammy cheek. “Maybe a little dehydrated after last night. I need you to drink some water, okay?” he said, opening the bottle on your bedside table and helping you sit up so that you could take a few gingerly sips.

Bradley watched you for a couple minutes, then seemed to make a decision in his mind. “I’m going to call Mav,” he told you, rising so that he could grab his cell phone from his bedside table.

“Why?” you asked, putting the bottle of water down and resting back against your pillows.

“I’m not going to work today. I want to stay here with you,” Bradley explained, lifting his phone to his ear as he pressed down on Mav’s name.

“Honey, no, please. I’m fine, really,” you insisted, reaching across the bed to grab his hand.

Bradley squeezed your hand in return and lifted it to his lips to press a soft kiss to it, but he didn’t change his mind. Within a few seconds, he had explained the situation to Maverick, who said he would pass along the message to Cyclone after sending you all his best. After hanging up, Bradley sat back down on the bed beside you.

“I wish you hadn’t told him that,” you murmured, suddenly feeling a bit weepy despite yourself.

“Why?” Bradley asked, surprised at how upset you suddenly looked. “It’s just Mav, baby. He said he hopes you feel better real soon,” he added, reaching up to brush some of your hair behind your ear.

“Yeah, but I don’t want him to think—” You shook your head, not even sure how you wanted to finish that sentence.

“Don’t want him to think what?” he questioned, his brown eyes lit with concern as he scooted closer to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

You shook your head again, a knot of anxiety suddenly forming in the pit of your stomach. The rational part of your brain knew that it was just the perinatal anxiety rearing its ugly head once more, but you now felt unable to speak past the lump of emotion clogging your throat. Or rather, you didn’t want to speak because you didn’t want to give voice to the thoughts that were now cruelly bouncing around in your mind.

“Honey, what is it? Please talk to me,” Bradley begged in a soft voice, pulling you closer and pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

Bradley knew you better than anyone. He knew that talking things through always helped you, even when you sometimes felt inclined to keep certain things buried inside. He knew that the hormonal anxiety you’d been experiencing since getting pregnant had been especially hard, so he was always encouraging you to share the things that were weighing on you. You were so grateful for how patient and understanding this man was.

“I just—it’s going to sound stupid,” you murmured, hanging your head and running a hand through your hair as you attempted to blink back the tears you could feel burning behind your eyes.

“If it’s how you feel, baby, then it’s not stupid,” Bradley reassured you, holding you closer and dropping another tender kiss on the top of your head. “Tell me. Please?” he added quietly, lacing his fingers through yours and squeezing your hand comfortingly.

The tears started to fall as you looked up at him, the anxiety gnawing at you from the inside. “I don’t want Mav—or anyone else—to think that I’m going to be a bad mother,” you told him. At the look of shock on Bradley’s face at your admission, you started to cry harder. “See?! I told you it was going to sound stupid!” you exclaimed, burying your face in your hands.

It took Bradley a second to compose his thoughts—that was certainly the last thing he thought you were going to say—but then he was immediately wrapping both arms around you and pulling you flush against his chest, stroking your hair and whispering soothing words of comfort.

“It doesn’t sound stupid, honey. It doesn’t. It’s just not what I thought you were going to say,” he explained honestly. “Talk me through it. Why would you think Mav or anybody else would think you’re going to be a bad mother because you’re feeling sick?”

You sniffled softly and gulped in a few quick breaths of air as you wiped at your cheeks with the backs of your hands, trying to erase the tears that kept falling. “It just feels like I keep messing up, like I’m doing something wrong. I’m trying to do everything I’m supposed to. I’ve been eating all the right foods and taking all my vitamins and doing everything that Dr. Russo says to do. So why is it like this? Why am I so sick and why do I feel so anxious all the time? Am I doing something wrong?”

Bradley’s heart broke at your words. He gently cradled your face in his hands, brushing away your tears with his thumbs as he rested his forehead against yours. “Oh, God, baby, no. No. You’re not doing anything wrong,” he assured you, his voice mildly raspy from the emotion that was suddenly clogging his throat. “I–I wish I could tell you why things had to be so hard. I wish there was a reason. And I wish there was a way I could take all the hard things away from you so that you didn’t have to carry them.” His lips brushed against your forehead in a heartrendingly tender gesture of love. “But I promise you—I promise you—you’re not going to have to carry it alone. I’m with you always, honey. You’re not in this on your own.”

Sobbing, you buried your face in your husband’s neck and wrapped your arms around him, clinging to him tightly. He held you close and rocked you gently in his embrace, cradling the back of your head as you cried.

You cried until the tears finally ran dry, then pulled back to look up at him, your cheeks flushed and streaked with the trails of your emotion. “I just—I feel guilty, too. You’ve been so amazing through all of this and I feel like I’ve been such a mess. I couldn’t even make you breakfast without you having to carry me back to bed and call out of work,” you sniffed.

“Hey,” Bradley replied insistently, lightly caressing your cheek with his calloused fingers. “Now wait just a minute. Why would you feel guilty about that? I’m your husband, baby. I get to take care of you. That’s one of the perks,” he said, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“But that’s just it. You’ve been having to take care of me so much lately and it isn’t fair to you,” you explained, looking at him with doleful eyes.

“Fair to me? Honey, don’t you remember what we promised each other on our wedding day?” he asked, gently tracing your wedding band with the tip of his finger. “For better and for worse, in sickness and in health? Honey, I didn’t vow to be your husband only on your good days. I didn’t promise to love you only when you were feeling your best. I wanted to marry you because I wanted to be with you for everything. I want to be your husband on your best days and your worst days, on the days when you’re dancing around the kitchen and on the days when you’re throwing up in the middle of the night for hours on end,” he told you, chuckling slightly at the way you grimaced at that last part. “I love you so much, baby. I hope you understand that.”

“I do,” you nodded, chewing on your lower lip. “It’s just—”

Bradley silenced you with a kiss, his fingers gentle on your skin as he held your face in his hands. “Honey, think of all the times you’ve taken care of me when I’m not feeling well. And that’s just when I have a cold or the flu. You’re literally growing a person inside you. I think you more than deserve to be taken care of as much as you need.”

You sighed softly, reaching up to touch your husband’s cheek as you gazed into his eyes. “Are you even a real person?” you demanded.

A laugh exploded from Bradley’s lips at that, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “God, I love you,” he grinned, twisting a lock of your hair around his finger.

You smiled at that, the first smile you’d cracked in what felt like forever after the night you’d had. “I love you, too,” you whispered, stroking his cheek affectionately. “Thank you for always knowing just what to say to cheer me up.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” Bradley smiled, covering your hand with his and pressing a kiss to your palm.

“Well now that you’re officially playing hooky, what should we do?” you asked playfully, raising your eyebrows in mock curiosity.

“Well, Mrs. Bradshaw, I still insist on you getting lots of rest today,” Bradley told you, winking at you with a grin. “But I think I have a few ideas.”

You and Bradley ended up spending the rest of the day snuggled under a blanket on the couch, binging all the movies you had recently added to your Netflix watchlist. Miraculously, the nausea and the dizziness seemed to pass. Though you still felt tired and a little weak, you started to feel much better than you had in weeks. Maybe things really were starting to look up in the second trimester.

“Baby?” you whispered into the darkness later that night as you lay safely ensconced in your husband’s arms. You weren’t even sure if he was still awake.

“Mhm?” came his sleepy reply, his arms tightening around you slightly.

“I’m so happy to be your wife,” you told him, your fingers sliding over his wedding band as his hand rested on your belly.

You could feel his lips through the thin fabric of your pajama shirt as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“I’m the luckiest man alive.”

#rooster x wife!reader #mr. & mrs. bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller

985 notes · View notes