#been choking on a pill while writing this. ow. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ppersonna · 4 years

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i’ll float away - myg | m

they show you how to swim, then they throw you in the deep end. what if I don’t float? - float, the neighborhood.

↳ summary- years after the breakup, yoongi, a successful award-winning rapper with an unhealthy addiction, finds your wedding invite on Facebook.

↳ rating- explicit/18+

↳ word count- 12.6k

↳ pairing- yoongi x reader

↳ genre- idol!au, postbreakup!au, very heavy angst, smut, fluff

↳ warnings- discussions of drugs and death, penetrative sex, oral sex (m/f receiving), creampie, dirty talk, min yoongi being a mental health king

↳ a.n- hi everyone! some of you may recognize this fic. this fic is my baby. i went through and edited it a little more and put all the chapters together to make it a one shot. i think it flows better that way! i hope you enjoy this. this fic means so so so much to me and while it’s heavy, i hope you enjoy the ride it will take you on. this fic got me back into writing and i will forever be thankful for that.

↳ this fic contains adult content, such as drug use, discussions of suicide, accidental overdose, discussions of drugs and addictions. while this is not romanticized, or idolized, it is discussed. please take care of yourself and proceed with caution. 18+ | discretion is advised.

‘We cordially invite you to the wedding of…’

Min Yoongi felt numb.

Yoongi always felt numb, but this felt different, wrong. Like he was falling and had no ledge to grip.

It felt as if the world had stopped on its axis, and at any moment, gravity would turn off and he would just float, float away to nothingness.

There was no sound. Everything existed in silence.

His fingers couldn’t move. Eyes were glued to his phone screen where he stared at the wedding invite on fucking Facebook.

He wasn’t even sure why he was seeing it, considering you had blocked him on nearly every form of social media. Likely it was from your family, someone that still kept him around despite a million reasons not to.

It felt like centuries before Yoongi noticed his heartbeat again. And when it did, it hurt. It threatened to break his ribs, tear through muscle and sinew, erupt from the skin to go, get away, run run run from this.

The numbness was gone. Now all he felt was the pain.

Yoongi felt like his every cell, every fiber, was burning. Perhaps, they were mourning.

Perhaps, they were dying.

Water dripped onto his phone and it took him a few stunted breaths to realize the water was coming from him, pouring from his eyes like open wounds.

The numb silence surrounding him left him, and now he was too alert, too aware. The sounds hit him like a tidal wave.

His body was reacting years before his brain could catch up. He could hear himself crying, choking on his sobs, and at first, it didn’t register as his own voice wailing your name.

And then emotion erupted and smashed into his psyche, nothing standing in his way to protect him.

He was heartbroken.

He had felt nothing in years, refused to face the sorrowful demons lurking around him. It was easier to hide, to run. It terrified him to think of what would happen if he allowed himself a chance to feel again. He didn’t think he would make it out alive.

Alive.

Was he? Had he been living since that day? He wasn’t sure. He breathed, ate, drank, fucked, but he wasn’t positive he was alive at all.

Living? Sure. Existing? Yes. But alive, he couldn’t determine.

Now that he could feel every ounce of pain, his body accepted it tenfold. His throat felt angry and raw. He must be screaming—he thought. His fingers pricked with pins and needles as if they hadn’t moved an inch since the day he last touched you, refusing to believe you were gone. His arms wrapped around his own chest as his body wracked with sobs.

Yoongi hadn’t cried in years. He hadn’t allowed himself to cry, hadn’t given permission to his mind to even think about it. Surely, once he started, he was confident he would never stop.

His mind reeled. He was only half aware of where he was, what he was doing. It wasn’t until he felt his legs moving, feet shuffling to his nightstand, that he realized what was happening.

He didn’t want to feel. His mind, in an effort to protect, to avoid, was doing the only thing Yoongi knew to do.

He grabbed the bottle of Oxy’s, poured out a handful and contemplated swallowing them.

He didn’t think he wanted to die. To be frank, he felt he was already living in purgatory. He just wanted it to stop, to end, to retreat into nothingness and stop fucking crying.

Swallowing them wouldn’t do. He would fall asleep, and likely stop breathing. Too much. He couldn’t die. He knew in his mind he would feel too guilty to die. He didn’t want death; he merely wanted respite, sanctuary.

He could continue surviving as long as his nerves dulled and frayed, mind sticky and hazy. Exist. Don’t feel.

With skilled hands and tools, Yoongi crushed some pills into a fine powder and sat on his bed to arrange the drug into 4 lines.

He always felt better this way.

He would add a line of coke had his situation been different. It was his go-to, enough to keep himself present, to do what he needed to get through the day while still feeling dissolved. Sing, dance, record, smile for the cameras, sign for the screaming girls, plaster on that boyish smile, repeat.

He just wanted to sleep.

His body worked on auto-pilot. Yoongi was sure he was still heaving with sobs. He could feel his chest shaking, and his hands were unsteady.

You were getting married.

One bump. Inhale. Hold it. Don’t think. Breathe.

Someone else was holding you, smiling as bright as your future. Handsome. Kind. Family man.

Alive.

Second bump. Inhale. Don’t let it go. Breathe.

He imagined your hands on someone else’s body, your voice crying out in throes of passion in someone else’s ear. Whispering someone else’s name as you succumbed to your climax.

Third bump, then straight to the fourth without stopping. It burned as it passed through his nostrils, straight to his bloodstream.

Children, a home and a dog. Family dinner. Movies, laughter. All of them without him. An outsider staring in through the window, wondering what it could feel like to be within; wondered what it was like to get what he wanted.

Yoongi leaned back on his bed, feeling the slow, syrupy wave wash over him.

‘Please, take it away’ he pleaded silently as if the drug were his doctor, his therapist. It was, in many ways. ‘I’m not strong enough.’

His eyes drooped and felt like lead. He was tired. So tired. He could feel his sobs slow, before ending in quiet little whimpers and sighs. His breathing mellowed, and he felt his chest deflate for what felt like hours before his lungs pulled in harshly more air.

He ached but felt as if someone had pulled a blanket over him, over his tortured heart and crumbling brain. No more thinking, just sleep. Can’t feel, can’t cry, don’t want to face it.

Sleep.

Warmth.

Warmth surrounded him. It felt as if he were napping in the shady grass during summer. Warm and comforting.

You were there, in the meadow of his imagination. You were walking to him, a white dress and pretty flowers. Yoongi felt his heart tug at every artery in his body, as if begging him to stop, heel, resist, don’t go.

“Yoongi,” You called across the valley. Your dulcet voice rang through his head as if you spoke directly to his mind.

“Where are you?” You asked.

In a blink, you were in front of him. Your eyes were searching for him, even though he stood inches away.

He opened his mouth to beckon you, but no words came out. He was desperate to call out to you, embrace you. He strained to move his hand. He wanted to touch your cheek, feel real and alive again. His body would not respond.

“Yoongi, go!” You pleaded, eyes filling with tears, still seeking the male. “You can’t be here!”

His body stung, wincing at your words and aching at your distress.

“Yoongi, you need to wake up!”

The warmth faded.

It felt as if something had ripped his comfort blanket from him, exposing his body to the harsh chill of reality.

He could sense he was in a bed, and the lights were bright, so bright. He tried to open his eyes and groaned as the halogen pierced through his skull.

“Yoongi?! Oh my god, he’s waking up!” Distressed voices were too loud all around him, and he felt pokes and prods and beeping of machines.

“Ow-… loud.” His voice was rough as if he hadn’t used it in days.

Yoongi felt more acutely aware of his body as he struggled to wake up. He was so nauseated, stomach churning ferociously, even though he hadn’t eaten since… how long? He wasn’t sure. He wanted to vomit.

He wanted to sleep.

He lifted his eyes again and peered through the harsh lighting. His best friend Hoseok stood over him, along with Namjoon, his manager, and Jimin, his assistant.

Hoseok had tears in his eyes, and the sight made Yoongi wince with grief. Hobi hadn’t cried since high school when he got cut from the dance team. Something awful must have happened.

“Hobi…,” he murmured, coughing to clear his throat. ��What happened? What’s going on?”

Adjusted to the light, Yoongi finally glanced at his surroundings and took stock of his environment.

He was in a hospital; he was the patient. An IV was stuck in the crook of his arm, his skin ghostly pale, enormous bags of saline attached overhead. He felt faint.

How had this happened? Did he hurt himself at practice? Was there a car accident? Yoongi could remember driving home from the dance studio but felt foggy about anything else. He didn’t even know what day it was.

His friends blanched at Yoongi’s questioning, side-eying each other. Who would have to be the one to tell him?

Hoseok’s eyes flooded with tears again as he looked at the rapper and spoke. “Yoongi… you-… you OD’d.”

The words hit him like an oncoming train.

Overdose.

It had never happened to him before.

He nearly died.

He had, unfortunately, been in the game long enough to watch it happen to others. Some were lucky to make it out okay, most weren’t.

It all flashed painfully in his mind as it all flooded back.

You. Marriage. OxyContin.

Inhale. Don’t breathe. Don’t feel.

“Oh, my god.”

Hoseok let out a soft sob. “Jimin found you in your bed. Thank god you keep Narcan.”

Yoongi turned to glance at the gentle, pink-haired boy who had already done so much for him. Yoongi felt wrecked, utterly guilty for putting him in such a situation. How many times had Yoongi had to force a needle into a friend’s thigh, watch as their pinpoint pupils widened and lungs gasped for air as their synapses released? Too many. Each time kept him awake all night and petrified for months. He regularly kept the overdose reversal drug on him, in the studio, in his home.

“Jimin,” he croaked, his own eyes filling with tears. “I’m s-so fucking sorry.”

Jimin couldn’t hold back the tears in his eyes anymore. “It’s okay, Yoongs.” Jimin’s voice was quiet, trembling.

Yoongi felt the tears slip down his cheeks at his best friends and team. He had put so much on them. So much.

“You saved my life, Jimin.” Yoongi’s quiet voice made the assistant cry more.

“You’d do it for me.” He whispered through tears as he pushed forward and fell into Yoongi’s chest, holding the rapper close. “Let’s just… get better, y-yeah?”

The rapper’s heart seized up.

Better.

What was better? Surely, Jimin meant rehab. Sobriety. Meetings and sponsors.

To Yoongi, it meant feeling. It screamed hurting. It oozed heartbreak.

When Yoongi had been introduced to drugs at the beginning of his rap career, it had been fun and sexy. They used coke at the hottest parties, weed at all the clubs, acid at the raves. Yoongi sampled each like a buffet, found out which made him feel lightheaded and loose, which made him dizzy, which made him ache.

The drugs led to the girls. So many women begging for him. The cloudy haze of his mind found it hard to resist, even knowing you were still his, still waiting for him as you and he promised with thin silver bands symbolizing your shared devotion and dedication.

Therefore, drugs led to regret.

He left you. Days before your wedding. He exposed all of his misdeeds, his infidelity, his vices. He had promised you after he was famous, rich, well known that he would come back to you, start a family with you.

Instead, he turned away and left.

It was easier to avoid it all and leave; he rationalized. Seeing your heartbreak had been his undoing.

After the breakup, Yoongi self-medicated daily. He stuck with opiates and cocaine, finding it just the right combination to get him pleasantly numb from the guilt and loss of you while giving him the euphoric high he needed as a rising star rapper.

He had tried to keep it to himself as long as he could. Hoseok knew about the recreational use but hadn’t realized the extent of the problem until he found Yoongi too high to function, slumped in a chair in the recording studio.

Hoseok told Namjoon, his manager, who interrogated Yoongi’s assistant, Jimin. None had known quite how far Yoongi had spiraled down. And none had an idea to pull him out.

Yoongi didn’t want to go to rehab. He didn’t want the forced positivity. Group therapy. Social workers discussing ‘goals’ and ‘treatment plans’. He would risk his reputation. He was now a top-earning Grammy-winning artist. He was fucking Agust D. He couldn’t be just another celebrity who ended up in rehab. It would ruin everything he built. He could do it himself, fix his problems alone as he always had.

“Yeah.” Yoongi croaked to his assistant. “I’ll get better.” His smile was weak, and probably unconvincing to the three men who knew him best.

As Namjoon opened his mouth to speak, a knock sounded at the door of his room. Yoongi’s brow furrowed in confusion. He did not know who it could be, the three people he interacted with most already present. His accountant? Wouldn’t seem likely. A fan? Definitely unlikely, Jimin and Namjoon had likely taken major strides to ensure his privacy and ask the hospital to provide security. Was it… you? Yoongi stopped breathing at the thought.

Namjoon strode to the door and opened it a crack, peering out. Yoongi couldn’t see who the manager was whispering too, but moments later watched as the door swung open.

It wasn’t you. He felt relief. He wouldn’t have been able to look at you. But the guest was only slightly better.

Your mother.

The matronly woman’s eyes were full of tears. Yoongi’s mother had been your mother’s best friend from childhood, to the very day Yoongi’s mother passed away from breast cancer. Yoongi had been 17, void of any motherly contact at such an impressionable age.

Your mother had stepped in, no doubt or worry in her mind about caring for the teen. He was already such good friends with you and she even encouraged and supported the underlying feelings the two had for each other. Yoongi became family and nearly a son-in-law.

Even after the breakup, after breaking your heart and leaving you at the altar, your mom still kept in contact with him. She still reached out, celebrated his achievements and ensured he was well. She was the picture of forgiveness and compassion.

Yoongi crumbled at the sight of her, suddenly feeling like a teenager again, and sobbed as she moved forward quickly to embrace him. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jimin stepped outside to allow privacy and Yoongi clung to the only mother figure he had.

“I’m sorry. I’m so s-sorry.” He bawled.

He didn’t know exactly what he was apologizing for. For hurting you? For avoiding her and the entire realm of anything concerning you? For almost killing himself? Maybe a mix of it all.

His chest hurt, god it hurt so bad. It felt as if all ribs snapped from the crushing weight of his sorrow and guilt.

Her hand smoothed his hair, mint-colored now, and held his face to her neck and cried with him.

“Shh,” She soothed. “It’s okay, little lion.”

Yoongi cried harder at the childhood nickname from his deceased mother that followed him to adulthood with the woman holding him.

Yoongi couldn’t stop crying. It wouldn’t end. It felt like an endless river, a torrential storm that never passed. He felt raw, ripped from the inside out.

“You’re alive, Yoongi.” She whispered and kissed his forehead. “You’re still here. I love you.”

He wasn’t sure what he had done in a past life to deserve this kindness and unconditional love. Yoongi knew he didn’t deserve it, especially not from the mother of the girl he loved and broke completely. Not from the woman who he promised to make a grandmother, only to turn away and leave destruction in his wake.

“She’s getting married,” He choked out, the pain in his chest overwhelming him at his own words, so consuming he felt devoid of air. He gasped, struggling to breathe at all. “T-that should be me.”

She sensed this and squeezed her eyes tighter, hugging the boy closer to her as sobs wrecked his tired, thin body.

“I know, love.” She whispered. “I know.” She had no words to quell the heartbreak, just as she had many years ago when you laid across her lap, crying over the boy you loved completely. Words wouldn’t fix the wounds. She could only provide comfort; a band-aid on a bullet hole.

Yoongi allowed himself to sob, fully cry until he felt he might pass out. She held him, rocked him like a child, whispered words of comfort as his breathing eventually slowed and even out. His sobs turned to sniffles, and though he stopped crying, his eyes remained glassy and broken.

He had stopped crying; he noticed. The tears had stopped flowing, the thick pleas escaping his throat dried. But he hadn’t stopped the hurt. It felt as though the hurt was a gaping, infected, open sore that would never heal. He could hide it from the world, cover it up for none to see, but he couldn’t ignore the sting or the pain with every breath.

Yoongi steeled himself to look into the eyes of his comforter, preparing himself for the look of pity or disappointment in her look.

He bit back another cry as he only found compassion, comfort and unconditional love in her gaze. He didn’t deserve her.

“Please, don’t tell her,” he pleaded. “I can’t…,” he gulped. “I can’t let her know about this.”

She grimaced. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.” She sighed, stroking her fingers through his mint colored hair. “She wanted to come to see you, too.” Yoongi groaned and felt his heart clench. “I told her it wasn’t the best idea.” She murmured. Yoongi was suddenly comforted and struck by how very much he did not deserve the grace of this woman.

“Fuck,” he sighed. “She thought I was clean. That was the last thing I told her.”

He recalled the last time you two had spoken when he promised to get clean. Instead, he had left and spent the next few years in a haze.

“I think you should talk to her,” she admitted. “Not now. Not until you feel better, but she was distraught at the news.”

The idea of seeing you again plowed through him like a freight train.

“Sure,” he whispered. He couldn’t understand why you’d be concerned. You had swung choice words at him as he left, insults he deserved. “Maybe.”

Yoongi spent more time with his mother figure, comforting him and whispering sweet revelations and promises to keep in touch before his doctor interrupted and encouraged Yoongi to get rest without distraction.

Soon enough, he was alone again. Stuck in the too bright, too white, sterile room he had landed himself in because of his grief.

His attention diverted between the discomfort of his withdrawal and the gaping wound of having to see you again.

Even if he made it out sober, withdrawal free, he wasn’t sure he would make it out for long.

He tried to stay away, stay clean. He managed for a few weeks, immersing himself in writing an album and using his creative expression to medicate his wounds. And it worked.

Until it didn’t.

It started with the marijuana. He couldn’t resist the way it helped soothe everything. Not just the pain, but the world around him. He could sink into his bed, write away his feelings and worries, and relish in the sensation of absolutely nothing.

That lasted for a few weeks. He’d try to smoke every day, but the darkness continued to creep up, wrapping around his throat like a vice.

He demanded his schedule to get busier, to get tighter, despite the warnings from Namjoon. He insisted on shows, award dinners, radio interviews, everything. If he was busy, he wouldn’t think about you. He could survive another day if you weren’t the first thing on his mind.

That’s when the cocaine started again.

It helped him muster the energy he needed to plaster on Agust D, rapper extraordinaire. He could sing, rap, dance, wink at the girls, sign the scantily clad flesh, throw back a shot of vodka and charm the press.

A few lines of coke every few hours pushed him forward, and towards his end.

But he was handling it. Wasn’t he? Wasn’t he working, being successful, making money? He was rich. He was famous. He was beloved. He was shining.

Did it even fucking matter?

The shine made his shadow darker. It made his fall from grace longer, more painful.

It didn’t fucking matter.

Yoongi found himself at the corner of the park, the same one you two had grown up playing in. It was in the center of the neighborhood you two lived. It was where he first chased you around the swings, laughed with you over comics at the picnic table, and fucked you for the first time in the parking lot in the backseat of his car.

He couldn’t stop the memories rolling over him like a boulder, crushing his lungs and threatening to snap his bones into nothing more than dust.

It stunted his breath. He felt as if pulling in a full intake of air was impossible.

He finally sucked up his faux courage and scheduled a time to meet you here at this park. The park that held such significance to both of you.

If he thought it was hard to breathe at the memories of the park, it was even worse when you walked towards him, and planted your feet in front of him.

There was nothing. Stillness. Absolute silence as you both felt as if the barometric pressure dropped around your vicinity. A vacuum. Nothing but you two, and so much hurt it was palpable.

“Y-You’re getting married-..” Yoongi broke the silence, voice dry and quiet. He wanted to say more, but couldn’t. He couldn’t look anywhere but his feet. Didn’t want to see a ring around your finger that wasn’t from him.

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes. “Yeah, I am.”

Yoongi couldn’t look at you, couldn’t look you in your eyes. It was too much. Too painful. Those eyes used to look at him with so much love, so much pride. He couldn’t bear to see what you held in them now.

“Great, that is great,” his voice was flat. “Happy for you. I hope it goes well.”

You cringed and turned your face up to stare at the mint-haired boy. The man of your dreams. The one who took so much and left you with nothing.

“Hoseok told me what happened.”

Yoongi closed his eyes, as if blocking out the words. Fuck. Of course. You and Hoseok were still close; it was bound to happen.

His world now was so dark, so ugly. Yoongi couldn’t bear ruining you any more. You had been the iron rod and lamplight that led him through the darkness. You were his lifeline. Without you, all stability, all light, gone.

“Yeah,” was all he could muster, flickering up to look at you. You were staring back, eyes full of unshed tears.

Yoongi inhaled sharply, feeling each tear from your eyes as a knife to his chest. He hadn’t seen your eyes in so long. Staring at you was like leaving a hand on a burning stove.

“Are you still using?” You asked. Your words weren’t callous or cruel. You asked to gather information, to determine an opinion, not to pass judgement. Yoongi knew you meant no harm and found himself powerless to lie to you, anyway.

“Just…,” he let out a puff of air anxiously. “Yeah, sort of. Weed and some coke, I guess. Nothing else.” He rubbed his neck anxiously.

Your lips set in a line, and your eyes flicked back down, sadness washing over your features. He could feel it rolling off of you in waves, lumps building in his throat.

“I miss you,” He admitted, words tumbling out before he could catch himself. “So fucking much. I know this isn’t fair, and I know that I fucked up. I just miss you more than anything else in the world.”

At first, you laughed. Yoongi felt as if someone had punched him.

Then you cried. Yoongi felt as if he had been shot, point blank in the chest.

“You’re right, Yoongi. It isn’t fair,” You walked closer to him, a mix of grief and anger. “You ruined my fucking life.”

You pushed against his shoulder. “You left me at the fucking altar. You cheated on me.” The tears came faster down your cheeks. “Then, you almost fucking died. And my mom won’t stop crying. And I can’t stop crying, I fucking cry my eyes out because my wedding is in 2 months and I realize I will never get over you.”

Yoongi felt another shot, execution style, to the head. He couldn’t speak and watched your anger, accepting the jabs to his chest.

“I thought I was happy, Yoongi. I really thought I would get the wedding and life I wanted so badly, and you took it away from me. Twice!” You were sobbing, pushed even closer against him. “You almost fucking dying made me realize I don’t want that life with him. I want it with you, you fucking inconsiderate asshole!”

Yoongi couldn’t bring himself to speak. Any elation he might have had about hearing your revelation was quickly quelled by the fire of your anguish.

“And, now you’re still using and there’s no way I could even think about seeing you high. I love you so much and it fucking hurts me knowing you do that to yourself, accepting no sort of fucking help. You can’t do it all yourself, Min Yoongi, no matter how fucking great you think you are!”

He couldn’t reply. He had no words, nothing of value to add. You were right. He couldn’t find a single argument. Your body pressed so close to him and his body ached. It yearned to close the distance and feel your shape against his, slotting together so easily as you always had. It was magnetic. He could almost weep at how badly he needed to hold you, to feel you, to touch you again.

You watched him, unable to stop the flow of tears you promised you would never shed for him again. “Look at me.” You asked quietly.

Yoongi’s own red-rimmed eyes lifted to yours. He looked so broken. So raw. He was crying, years of built up sorrow pouring down his pale cheeks.

You closed the distance and pushed together your bodies, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your face against his neck. He smelled as he always did. Dove shampoo, Old Spice, laundry detergent. You knew Yoongi nearly down to his DNA.

You lifted your face level to his and pressed a kiss to his lips. He felt no heat in the kiss, no desire.

It felt final, resolute.

“Goodbye, Yoongi.” You whispered, pressing your forehead to his.

And you turned. And you left.

And another piece of Yoongi’s broken heart slipped away with you.

Yoongi avoided any semblance of routine. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t feel anything but ache. He saw you in everything he did.

He tried to stay away from the drugs. He sincerely did. He knew the risks. He knew he had nearly died.

But he could not bear to take the pain anymore. He could not continue fighting his very breath, forcing himself to breathe even though it hurt too much.

He was still standing on the outside of your world, so far away from you. It was so cold. He didn’t remember what warmth was. He didn’t think he deserved to remember, either.

It was easy to score a baggie of smack. Yoongi had plenty of money and connections. But Yoongi had never done heroin intravenously. He had smoked it with his old dealer, the first man he ever had to revive with Narcan. IV use scared him. But it was what he could get a hold of, and what he needed.

Tie off. Fill up. Inject. Hold it. Breathe. Don’t feel. Release.

It washed over him quickly, the same fuzzy warmth that started at his toes and slithered up to his head. It felt headier than snorting it, less of a slow rush, more of an instant dive into warmth. Comfort.

The knot in his stomach loosened. Yoongi relaxed against his pillows and inhaled deeply before exhaling. He could breathe again.

He was so sleepy. So tired. He could sleep again without the torment of his dreams. He could live again without feeling his shattered heart. No hurt. Only comfort.

His only love.

He wasn’t sure how long he slept for. He didn’t dream. He couldn’t recall if five minutes had passed or five days. His head pounded him back to reality as he woke, and he realized it was dark outside his bedroom.

His phone was still on his bedside table. He checked it and groaned. It was the next day, next evening really. He had slept over 24 hours. He felt like shit.

The nausea and the chills came soon after. He felt as if he was burning. He couldn’t stop puking, even with minimal content in his stomach to begin with. Sips of water would come back up. His fever got worse. He became so drenched in sweat he stripped his clothes and sat in a bath, hoping to sweat the fever out. It chilled him to the bone. He was so hot, and so fucking cold at the same time.

Yoongi cried as he held himself in the tub. He was alone. He was withdrawing. He wanted more, god he wanted to sleep and feel good again, didn’t want the sickness or the grief. It was so much. So fucking much.

His fingers danced along his phone, dialing your number out of habit, out of a need to hear you.

“Why are you calling me, Yoongi?” Your voice, flat, asked through the phone.

Yoongi croaked. His voice was hoarse due to disuse for over a day. “I fucked up, baby.”

Your heart clenched at the sound of the pet name. It had been so long. God, you had missed it so much. You missed him. You fucking hated him for it.

“Are you okay?” You asked, concern edging out the anger at his call.

“No,” he sighed, shivering and holding his knees to his chest. “I sh-shot up.”

He could not stop the whimper leaving his mouth. “I’m withdrawing. I w-want to keep using it, but I can’t!” Yoongi sobbed, openly weeping at the physical and emotional pain. “I’ll fucking die again. I don’t want to die. I love you.”

Tears poured down your face, heartbroken at his words and actions.

“Yoongi, where are you?”

Yoongi quickly replied. “I’m at home, in the bathtub. The front door is locked,” He whispered. “I don’t think I can stand.”

“I still uh… have my key.” You admitted. Yoongi felt his heart clench, unsure of what to make of that idea.

Yoongi remained in the bathtub, holding himself and shivering violently when you arrived on scene. Your heart, already so broken, shattered at the impact of seeing the love of your life and the cause of your heartbreak, suffering.

“Fuck,” you whispered, quickly grabbing towels and kneeling by the tub at his side. “Yoongs, let’s get you dry, okay? Can you stand with me?” You grasped his clammy arms and allowed him to use your weight to balance himself on shaky legs.

You were so gentle. So compassionate. Yoongi felt his resolve breaking, wanting nothing but to wrap you up and never let you go again, tell your future husband to fuck off and allow the rapper to take his rightful place.

With your help, Yoongi stood and allowed himself to be dried. He normally would have felt the stirrings of arousal at such an intimate gesture, but all he felt now was unbridled affection and overpowering guilt.

You led Yoongi to his bed, settling him on the soft surface while you moved to dig through his drawers for clothes.

“Don’t make me go to the hospital,” he pleaded softly. You stole a look back at him, at his words.

“Yoongi, you need to see someone. You’re not okay.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m… I’ll be okay. I’ve gone through the worst of it already.” He rubbed at his sweaty forehead. “Will you just stay with me? I’m so cold.” He shivered.

You glanced at the man on the bed. He was thin, so sickly thin. While he had always maintained a lean physique, it looked as if the rapper hadn’t eaten in weeks. His skin was sallow, paper white with bruises on his arms and legs that seemed onyx against his alabaster skin.

You weren’t sure you could argue with him, but he definitely appeared less ill for wear now that he was out of the bath and dry.

“Yoongs,…” you breathed, dropping the clothing in your hands. “Let me hold you.” All reservations were held back. The anger dissipated. You couldn’t fight the need to help him, to nurture and hold him.

You moved to tear your thick jacket off your frame and toe out of your shoes before making towards the bed. Together, you took hands and slid gently in between his sheets. Yoongi’s body was trembling. He didn’t know if it was from the withdrawal or his proximity to you.

You pulled the blanket up and over your bodies, pressing yours against his thin body. His skin was freezing, forcing out a shiver of your own.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, forehead leaning to press against yours. You didn’t reply, not sure you’d be able to form words.

You laid in a long, comfortable silence as your warm hands rubbed along Yoongi’s arms and back, willing the blood vessels in his body to expand and return his heat. His breathing was even now, but occasionally let out a groan. He couldn’t tell if it was a groan of pain, or of pleasure. Your hands on his skin felt like heaven and hell, wrapped in one.

Everything he loved and lost in one package.

Bringing him to life and sentencing him to death.

“I love you,” his voice was shaky, quiet.

You nodded, tears now easily slipping past your cheeks. “I love you too.” There was no use denying it. It was clear in the way you ran to him, in the way you held him tightly, as if he would disappear without you pressed up against him.

His lips found yours easily, as if magnetized. The kiss was slow, gentle. You felt your own tears slide down your cheeks and meet his own. Yoongi couldn’t help them, couldn’t help the simultaneous ache and burn of your touch again.

His hand slid to rest on your hip, underneath your shirt, pulling you even closer. The kiss deepened, tongues swirling in each other’s mouth, searching for each other in the only place you knew.

It didn’t take long for your shirt to come off, and Yoongi’s hands to slide down your hips to push at your jeans. This wasn’t passionate or steamy. It was broken, desperately seeking comfort in the solace of each other.

Once your clothing laid strewn across the floor, Yoongi wrapped his thin arms around your waist, pulling you as close to him as he could. He could feel your breasts press up against his chest and was positive you could feel his hardness pressing into your thighs.

He didn’t want to fuck you. He wanted to love you, to feel you again. He wanted to hide inside you. He wanted the security that being buried deep within you once gave him. He wanted to feel alive, feel you. It seemed he could no longer separate the difference.

His tears wouldn’t stop flowing, neither would yours.

There was no foreplay, no teasing or edging. Yoongi laid you back against the pillows and kissed at your tears, eyes boring into yours to seek consent. You nodded, opening up your legs as a response. You needed to feel him too, fill the ache inside of you that widened each day without him. Yoongi lined himself up and slid into the familiar, inviting heat.

You muffled a cry, thrilled at the feeling of him filling you completely. You missed him. You loved him. You hated him. You never felt more complete. The thought made you cry more, both in pleasure and in sorrow. The man bringing you so much pleasure had wrought so much sadness and pain.

Yoongi kept a slow pace, uncaring about orgasms or getting off. His desire to be within you was void of sensuality at this point. Yoongi only wanted to be within you, to feel safe, to feel anything again. He felt alive.

Alive.

His thrusting moved quicker as your lips met and danced together, pouring out emotion through unspoken gestures. He didn’t have the words, couldn’t tell you every single thought ran through his brain. He hoped he could convey them to you here, in each roll of his hips.

Yoongi felt his release quickly approaching, unsure of how to proceed. He wasn’t sure what the moral code for cumming inside your ex fiancé was. He groaned as he kissed you.

“I love you, I’m close. Where…?” He hoped you would understand his broken question.

You sighed with relief, feeling yours coming quickly too. While there had been no fire, no passion, the unadulterated emotion coursing between the two of you was enough to bring you close to completion.

“Inside me, please,” you sniffed, gasping at the tendrils of orgasm beginning to wrap around you.

Yoongi pressed his face against your neck, leaving salty kisses as he felt your channel pulse around him in completion, triggering his own end. He momentarily thrilled at his cum coating your cunt again, but the thought quickly left him. Not that kind of night, nor that kind of fucking. Your moans were quiet, and he merely breathed a soft sigh into your neck.

It only took a moment for the reality of it all to hit you.

You had just fucked your ex. Who was in the middle of a withdrawal. While you were engaged to another man. Who you had no desire to ever see again.

Fuck.

Yoongi pulled himself out of you, but pressed you close against him. Despite the agony in his head and his stomach from the pain of withdrawing, he felt secure again. He felt, for a minute, like he was finally on the inside of his dream, no longer looking in from the outside.

It was quickly wrenched away as you slithered out from under him, your tears quickening.

“I need to go,” you murmured. “I can’t believe I-we…,” you shook your head as you pulled your clothes on quickly. “I’m engaged.”

Yoongi winced and sat up as he watched you. “Yeah,” he felt his own tears slip down his cheeks. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re always sorry, Yoongi,” you snapped. It felt like a dagger to his heart.

He was. Always so sorry. He rarely felt anything other than sorry.

You felt guilty at the look that crossed his features. Fuck.

“I’ll-… I’ll call Hoseok to come check on you. Okay?”

Yoongi remained solid and didn’t move, only tracked you with his eyes as you shoved yourself into your coat and cried as you put on your shoes.

“Goodbye, Yoongi,” you whispered. He wondered if it was the last time he’d see you.

The door closed; all that was left of his weak heart left with you.

Fuck.

Sorry. Always so sorry.

Yoongi mulled that phrase through his mind since you left.

He was sure at this point sorrow and grief fueled his body alone.

He stopped caring, only subsisted on weed and whatever cans of food he found in his kitchen, or what Jimin would leave out for him. He stopped caring. The minuscule amount of care inside him evaporated.

He felt like he was wandering an empty, dark pathway with no light. No end in sight.

He hid from the world, stopped all the press conferences, the interviews, the shows. He dropped out of a three-month tour of Europe, one that would have brought him significant money and status. He wasn’t sure he could even perform anymore, drugs or not.

The tabloids started running about him then, too. Tales of drug addiction, of his deep and dark secrets he tried to keep away. They spun false tales of illicit sex, arrests, gang connections, violence. His career was on the precipice of crumbling around him.

He shined, he burned bright and fast.

Now, he was ashes on the ground.

He burned through his money, ate nothing but packaged ramen and beer, and cried himself to sleep at night.

His life was fucking pathetic.

Namjoon avoided him, only talking to him about business-related concerns and the press. Jimin remained steadfast and loyal, constantly checking in, but only looked at him with pity and sadness. Hoseok refused to spend time with him, citing his concerns about watching his best friend die in front of him.

Losing everything eventually broke him.

He stayed up all night, every night, so drugged out his mind, and cried. He looked at old pictures of you and him, of his best friends, memories of a time much easier and happier.

He had lost all of it.

For something that was going to fucking kill him.

He let you get away. He lost his friends. All for trying to be rich and famous. And that was quickly slipping through his fingers too.

It was time to stop. It was time to stop fucking around.

It was time to end it all.

With one last jab of the needle, Yoongi slid away.

Far, far away.

Rehab wasn’t as bad as Yoongi had painted it out to be.

There were group meetings, individual therapy, social workers and their treatment goals. There was crying. There was pain, so much it felt overwhelming. There were the withdrawals, likely the worst aspect of it all. The nausea, the fever, the stomach churning. He wanted so badly to end it, just use one more time to stop being sick.

But there he found healing. He found each time he cried, a piece of his heart built back up, sturdier this time. Each dry heave of sickness brought him one step closer to never feeling it again.

He found camaraderie. He found wellness. He found his muse and his passion again.

He met new friends, Taehyung and Jungkook, both fellow opioid addicts. Through them, they formed a bond of sobriety and perseverance. They held each other accountable and held each other close through their subsequent relapses and returns to rehab.

Yoongi started working out, started putting weight back on in places it was meant to be: his cheeks, his arms and thighs, around his ribs. Jungkook was a personal trainer and guided him through personalized workouts and a nutrition plan. Yoongi found peace in each 60 minute cardio or weight-lifting session with his new best friend. He realized he could pour out all his pent-up emotions through his sweat, his hard work.

Taehyung was an artist, a phenomenally gifted and talented man. Yoongi felt inspired by him. Yoongi wrote and wrote. He wrote songs, poems, stories, rap lines. He found that what he couldn’t release physically through his training, he could release through his gift of creative writing.

Yoongi released his album from rehab, with the help of Namjoon. He merely titled it ‘goodbye’. Taehyung’s creative muse helped him finish the lyrics to all his songs. Yoongi felt cathartic, releasing his last record, an ode to Agust D and a goodbye to the live fast, die young lifestyle he no longer wished to partake of.

Yoongi’s therapist, Kim Seokjin, likely made the biggest impact on him. Yoongi learned about love, actual love. Loving yourself, respecting yourself, allowing yourself to feel the entire scope and range of emotions.

It was amid a therapy session with Jin that Yoongi decided he wanted to be a therapist.

Yoongi stepped out of the spotlight, out of the lifestyle of the rich and famous, and Yoongi returned to school in the fall for his Master’s in Social Work, with Jungkook at his side working towards a degree in exercise science and Taehyung working towards a Master’s in Fine Arts.

Yoongi followed the Narcotics Anonymous guidelines to a T. He admitted to himself his faults, his addiction. He attended all meetings, called his sponsor regularly and in emergency situations where the need to use was so overpowering he felt he might give in. He apologized to Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jimin. It was important to him to mend those relationships. He felt it was important to right the wrongs he brought upon them over the last five years.

He apologized to your mother. He visited her weekly, checking in on her and surprising her with her favorite foods and flowers. She bought 6 copies of his newest album, and together they wept over the lyrics, the intricately weaved storyline, and the stunning change the boy made.

She attended his graduation, too. She cried when Yoongi slid the tassel on his cap to the right, to the left. Yoongi felt a rush that drugs never compared to as he shook the hand of the president of his university and held that thick roll of paper.

He had accomplished something. He had done something; he had worked through incredible odds stacked against him and achieved it. No longer was Yoongi content with watching his life slip by in a haze.

Yoongi became a therapist, a social worker. The same people he thought would drag him down and ruin his career and reputation were the same people who lifted him out of his darkest place.

Min Yoongi, social worker.

He liked that better than Agust D, dead rapper, anyway.

Yoongi was leaving work, a group home for adolescent men suffering from addiction, when he ran into you.

His horn-rimmed glasses framed his face and newly bleached blonde hair fell around his forehead.

His heart stuttered at the sight of you. It all came rushing back.

Pain. Sadness. Drugs. Addiction.

You smiled at him, surprised to see him looking so healthy. You had heard all about his progress from your mother, eagerness and pride in her voice. But seeing him was as if walking into another dimension. He looked fit, strong, healthy, intelligent. Frankly, he looked sexy.

“Hi,” you meekly croaked, a blush floating to your cheeks at the thought of finding your ex so dashing.

“Hi,” he replied, a soft smile filling his lips as he practiced his mindfulness to allow the self-sabotaging thoughts to work themselves out, replaced with hopeful and insightful ones. Min Yoongi wasn’t afraid to feel anymore.

He wanted to talk to you. He wanted to ask you out. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to fuck you.

He felt mildly guilty about wanting to fuck another man’s wife, but shook the thought away. He would settle for talking. You may have been his ex fiancé, but you were also his childhood best friend. He craved to just settle back into that role, alone.

“Do-…” he faltered for a moment, then swallowed harshly and summoned courage. “Do you wanna grab a coffee with me? I was just headed to get one.” He pulled his backpack tighter to his back, unable to part with the bag that guided him through school and into a real-life job.

You nodded, finding it hard to speak. “Yes.”

Yoongi couldn’t stop staring at you. You looked so beautiful, so different while still so similar. Your hair was longer, healthier. Your clothes fit well to your body, accentuating your curves and sliding down elegantly and conservatively. Your eyes glistened with something. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was desire.

“I heard you’re a therapist now,” you murmured as you clutched the hot matcha latte in your hands, sitting across the tiny wood table from the ex-rapper.

Yoongi blushed and nodded. “Yeah, I am.” You didn’t miss the way his voice sounded so confident, so proud. “I work at a group home for young men with substance abuse addictions.” He smiled, poised and content. The pride clear on his face had never been there when he was a musician.

You couldn’t help the hard beat of your heart. “Wow,” you sighed. “That’s incredible, Yoongs. Mom said she’s proud of you,” you gulped. “I’m proud of you, too.”

Yoongi took a moment to nod graciously, feeling a swell within him. You were proud. Of him.

“How’s errr…” he faltered, not remembering the name of your fiancé, or husband now, he supposed. “Your husband?”

You blanched at the words. “Oh, we, umm, didn’t get married. It didn’t work out.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

You looked at the blonde boy, a smile reappearing on your features.

“It’s okay. It was for the best,” you surmised. “Everything happens for a reason.”

Yoongi caught the look you sent and smiled. “You’re right.”

You two fell into easy conversation. He told you all about his new best friends from rehab, Jungkook and Taehyung, and how seamlessly they fit into the friendships he already had. He discussed stories of their escapades in graduate school and how Namjoon, his manager, quickly fell in love with Seokjin, his therapist, and how Yoongi had played matchmaker for the couple. He discussed concepts he learned in therapy, in school, and now in his practice as a therapist.

You were enthralled and captivated. You were so unabashedly in love with Yoongi and realized you had never stopped.

“Care if I walk you home?” He asked, standing suddenly as he finished his chai, holding out his hand.

Your heart leaped, and you nodded, chugging down the rest of your drink and slipping your hand into his. He felt warm, strong. So much different from the pale, thin, clammy man you slept with years ago as he suffered through withdrawal.

This wasn’t the Yoongi of your childhood, who wanted to be famous. This wasn’t the Yoongi who broke your heart, who wanted to hide away in his substances. This was a culmination of all the Yoongi’s he had been and became. A strong, broken, healed, confident, loving man.

“I would love that.”

This was the Yoongi you were meant to be with. The man who you loved more than life itself.

Yoongi had courted you again since that initial coffee date. He sent flowers to your workplace, asked you out to lunch, kept things simple, proper and conservative. Yoongi was in this now, for the long haul, and wanted to prove his devotion to you.

While in rehab, they had forced Yoongi to face the fact that everything he did in relation to you was self-sabotaging, self-deprecating; a self-defeating prophecy. Facing that was his greatest struggle through his entire treatment process. He fought against it, even relapsed a few times because of it, and refused to accept that as a possibility.

Yoongi, with the help of Seokjin and his new friends, found that a world that didn’t revolve around you was finally a world he could live in, possibly thrive in. While you could exist in his world, making you his sole singular reason for breathing was dangerous. In that mindset, being without you meant dying.

Yoongi had finally lived for himself. Not for the money, the fame., the status, the reputation, or even you. Yoongi loved himself, as he was. Broken and healing. Addicted and sober. Yoongi lived for Min Yoongi, alone.

When he started seeing you again, he reached out to Seokjin. He was terrified that diving back in to you would be his undoing. Seokjin, in all his wisdom, spoke words of comfort.

“She is not your entire world, Yoongi. You are your entire world,” he spoke gently through the phone. “She can be part of your world, an enormous part of your world, but she cannot be the entirety. Life does not stop without her. Life is better with her, but does not end without her.”

Yoongi had been so obsessed with the idea of never having you, that he lost you. He stopped loving himself, stopped caring about anything but you and the pain he caused you.

“You hurt her, yes. But, it appears she is ready to forgive you now. Are you ready to forgive yourself and allow yourself to be vulnerable?” He asked the blonde boy.

Yoongi rolled the idea through his mind. “Yeah, I think I am.”

“You are allowed to love and be loved by who you want, Yoongi, but do not make your entire existence rely on that. Loving yourself will extend into all other relationships. And do not allow yourself to be consumed with the mistakes you made a long time ago. Focus on what you can do today. Living in the past causes us the most pain. Do not run from the pain, allow it to sit within you and give yourself permission to hurt, and then move through it.”

Yoongi allowed it all. Every emotion, every feeling. He cried. Jesus, he cried so much. He remembered that he used to think if he started crying he would never stop.

It was true, mostly.

But what Yoongi didn’t know was that within all the crying, all the pain, was a high unmatched by any substance that could be snorted or injected or smoked.

Yoongi no longer hid himself from feeling the darkness, but he allowed himself to remain in it until the light came back. And it came back ten thousand times stronger.

Yoongi felt encouraged to continue seeing you and progressed in his career and treatment. He took you on dinner dates, movie dates, picnics and theme parks. The only reservation was the lack of physical intimacy. He would hold your hand, kiss you, rub your back, but he always left your apartment without lingering. He wanted you to get to know him again, all of him, before he took that step. He wanted to do this right.

It was at the most recent date where things changed. It was a relaxing picnic in the park, the two of you laid in the soft sun-warmed grass, your head resting on his chest.

Yoongi felt content at the feeling of holding you against him. He thought of the dream he had when he was overdosing, nearly dying. Being so warm in the valley and meadows of his imagination, brain synapses firing off as his body shut down. You had been there, pretty white dress, telling him to go back, to wake up.

He admitted this to you, spoke out what he had told no one before. While he knows Jimin, with the help of Narcan, saved you, his subconscious attributed his revival to you.

“I’m in love with you, Yoongi,” you admitted, gently and easily with tears clouding your eyes, as you both watched the clouds roll by.

Neither of you had uttered those words since you held him in your arms and within you as he came down from his high so long ago.

Yoongi let the words soak over him. If he thought drugs had been like a warm blanket wrapping him up, this was like an absolute inferno of satisfaction and comfort.

The arm he wrapped around your shoulder pulled you close.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

Yoongi pressed you up against his wall, lips crashing into yours as his hands desperately sought the skin of your waist.

After the picnic, Yoongi suggested taking you back to his place for a movie. The charged energy in his car on the way there spoke volumes, knowing you wouldn’t be watching a movie by a long shot. A giddy grin lit up your features.

“God, I missed this,” he mumbled against your lips as his hands lifted your white sundress you bought specifically for the date with your ex-fiancé, now-boyfriend.

You moaned an affirmative reply, gasping as his hands rolled over your breasts, encased in creamy satin.

“I missed you,” he mumbled over your lips, hands tugging down the cups of your bra to rub against hardened nipples. “You’re so pretty, so warm.”

You couldn’t hold back any sound, gasping and keening at his touch. You were soaked, absolutely dripping, from his ministrations against your neck and breasts. You missed him too. Your short-lived engagement had ended without a wedding, for the second time in your life, and you pined after the boy who stole and broke your heart completely.

Yoongi pulled away from you, using the separation to tug the dress up and over your head and to gaze at you. Your breasts were haphazardly pulled out of the bra, your panties becoming slick against your core. Yoongi was sure he had never felt a pleasure this strong in any high.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured. Your cheeks heated, you couldn’t help it. Hearing him speak so gently, so lovingly, after so long and after so much pain flooded your senses pleasantly. His words wrapped around you like cashmere, warming and smoothing every inch of you.

“I need you, Yoongi,” you whispered, hand reaching towards his erection tenting his jeans. “Want to please you.”

Yoongi hissed at the feeling of your hand against his length. He nearly came right then. He hadn’t slept with anyone since your last time, the most heartbreaking sex he had ever had.

The feeling of you both crying as he entered you kept him turned off of it for over a year. And now you were back, pliant in his arms, and most of all, happy. He never wanted to see your anguished grief during sex again, or ever, if he could help it.

Your eyes looked so determined to please him, how could Yoongi say no? He nodded and leaned forward to kiss you, before switching positions and resting his back against the wall.

You thrilled at the switch and quickly dropped to your knees. Being on your knees in front of Yoongi was so familiar, so comforting and so incredibly hot. He looked so good. You could tell he had been working out. Muscles shone through his skin, and detailed lines appeared at his obliques and hip flexors. He was mouth watering. You missed him.

You loved him.

You made quick work of his jeans, unbuttoning the black denim and pushing down the zip and sliding the tight pants down and off his legs. He stood in his tight underwear and shirt, eyes so full of love and grace, staring down at you. He couldn’t believe it was happening again, and on such better terms.

Yoongi knew he had so much to make up to you, so much trust to build and apologies to promise you daily. Yoongi was grateful you were giving him that chance again.

Within moments, Yoongi’s boxers laid on the floor next to his jeans and his thick, heavy cock laid hot in your delicate hand.

Yoongi nearly cried at the sensation. Not only had it been long since any stimulation, it had been so long since he had been with you. The fact it was you again after all this time held the most significance to him.

Your eyes flicked between Yoongi’s thick and delicious cock, and his own face. No longer was the selfish, uncaring man present from so long ago. No longer was the drugged out, sorrowful, too thin addict in front of you.

As you pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock and swirled your tongue around the tip, you felt amazed that you now had the confident, lovely, compassionate Yoongi you were in love with.

Yoongi groaned out loud, uncaring if Jungkook or Taehyung heard from their respective rooms in his shared apartment.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he whined, sucking air in through his teeth harshly. “So good.”

A smile danced upon your features as you stroked each vein and ridge of his cock with your tongue, flicking at the space he liked most. The resulting gasp encouraged you more. With a quick, deep breath, you lowered your mouth and fully encompassed his length in the hollow of your throat.

Yoongi nearly screamed, pleasure coursing through his veins as you allowed him to fuck your throat, a mix of gentle and rough. Your moans spurred him on and the visage of you with your lips wrapped around his cock and saliva streaming down the sides of your mouth nearly forced his undoing.

“Shit, C-Christ, baby,” he gasped. “I’m gonna cum if you keep that up… fuck.” He grabbed at your hair to gently pull your mouth away from him.

You pouted for a split second, already missing the luscious heat and weight of his hard cock gagging you. The pout was quickly wiped away as he wrapped his arms around your waist and carried you to the bed, unable to stop the giggles escaping.

“My turn then,” he grinned as he pushed you down to lie on the pillows. He quickly disrobed you of your bra, tits now fully on display. He sucked one into his mouth, tongue swirling over the bud, while his other hand pinched and tugged at the opposite. He remembered how much you enjoyed the pain of nipple stimulation. The thought made you wetter.

“Yoongi, holy shit,” you cried, dazzled at the pain in your nipples as he bit down gently at the one in his mouth. “Yes!”

Yoongi couldn’t help the smirk on his face as he switched hands and nipples, sucking the other harshly now and twisting at the wet and red nub he released.

“So good, princess,” he cooed. “So good for me.”

His mouth moved south, kisses burning up your skin as he trailed. He suckled at skin here and there, leaving delicious marks on your abdomen and thighs. You loved being marked by him, even more so now.

Yoongi groaned as he pulled your satin panties down your legs. Your cunt was slick and sticking to the fabric. His mouth watered at the sight.

“My sweet, you’re so wet for me. All from sucking my cock?” He murmured, teasing you by kissing at your thighs. “My dirty little princess.”

You mewled in response, aching to feel him where you needed it most. Words escaped you, unable to speak except in moans and sighs.

Yoongi looked up at you, watched your cheeks turn pink, your nipples hard and moistened from his mouth, marks of him all down your body. His cock throbbed, and he rubbed himself against the bed once to relieve some tension. He could hold himself back for now, but he knew as time passed he would be absolutely aching to plunge into your depths.

“I missed this cunt,” he pressed a kiss to the mound. “I’m sure you taste just as perfect as you always have. I’m drooling for you, baby.”

“P-please, Yoongi, I need you,” you begged, squeezing your eyes closed in desperation. “So wet.”

“I love hearing you say please, little princess. So sweet.” He kissed the outside of your lips, between your thighs. He loved teasing you, getting you absolutely fucked out before he even touched you.

“Please, oh god Yoongi! I need you so badly!” You were desperate now, nearly tearing up at the ache in your pussy.

“I can’t resist you when you put it like that,” he teased, before finally descending on your cunt. His mouth swirled around, sucking on your clit. You gasped your satisfaction at his touch, finally satisfying that burning desire.

Yoongi took his time, ensured pleasure at each twist and flick of his tongue. He fucked into your cunt with his tongue, groaning at the sweet taste of your channel. His mouth suckled at your clit, transitioning between harsh sucks, and tongue flicks. As he flicked up against your bundle of nerves, he slid two fingers into your pussy, hissing at the tightness.

“So tight, my sweet,” he whispered. “Can’t wait to feel you on my cock.”

You groaned in reply, nodding quickly. Your fingers tugged at your nipples, relishing in the painful stimulation there and hot mouth coaxing an orgasm out of you.

“Close, Yoongi!” You gasped, unable to complete a sentence. “Right there! So close!”

His fingers thrusted faster, slipping a third to stretch you out. His tongue fired rapidly against your clit, suckling and swirling as he went.

“Yes, baby, cum for me. Cum on my fingers, my love.” He encouraged, panting with excitement, to watch your undoing.

It only took Yoongi’s salacious words and skilled mouth and fingers toying a few more moments for the orgasm to completely take over. It rolled over you like an avalanche. You screamed in delight, gasping as you felt your channel grip his fingers and milk them as if it were his cock.

Yoongi believed he was watching heaven, itself. You looked divine, radiant. The feeling of your convulsions around his fingers made him whine, cock head oozing pre-cum and begging to be stuffed inside your heat.

“Fuck, my love. You came so good, you did so well for me,” he praised. “I love this cunt. I love watching you scream for me.”

Your breath was heavy, chest heaving with exertion. Every nerve, every synapse felt alive, alight with ecstasy.

“I’m going to fuck you, my sweet. I will fuck you and love you, all fucking night.” He sucked at the wetness on his fingers as he pulled out of you, before he kissed back up your body to your lips. The kiss was hot and messy, all teeth and no grace or finesse.

“Please, Yoongi, I need to feel your cock,” you gasped.

Yoongi could not delay any longer. His cock felt as if it might implode if it wasn’t buried into you. He pulled your legs up to his shoulders and gazed at your open slit.

“Mine,” he whispered as he lined himself up and allowed your pussy to swallow his length.

There were no words, no accurate description or way to describe how being inside you again felt. He couldn’t put into words the feeling of your slick heat hugging his cock close, your body heaving with ecstasy, your mouth crying his name in joy and pleasure. Yoongi would go through hell a million times over again to feel this again, to feel the physical and emotional love and pleasure he felt here.

You were his, again. He could work to make it right.

Yoongi started a slow pace, transfixed at the vision of you taking his cock so well. Your gasps and whines encouraged him.

“You were made for me,” he whispered as he quickened. “This tight little pussy was made for me, to love and to fuck and to ruin.” His words left his mouth without thought, acting on instinct alone. “You’re all mine. Only mine.”

You clutched at his arms, lifting your hips to meet his harsh thrusts. “Yes, baby, yours!” Your voice was five octaves higher. “All yours!”

Yoongi turned feral, his dominating internal narrative spewing from his lips. His cock thrusted into you quick and fast.

“That’s right, my love. All fucking mine. Gonna fuck you so good every fucking day,” he promised through gritted teeth. His thumb ran down to the apex of your thighs and rubbed at your clit. “Gonna fuck all my cum into you, baby. You’re mine.”

He continued his ministrations and your pussy felt like the definition of pleasure, itself. Sparks felt as if they erupted from your coupling. You cried his name, gasping at his possessive promises.

“Gonna marry you, baby,” he intoned. “Gonna make you my wife.” He felt his end coming close, your shattered cries and impossibly tight cunt bringing him soaring to the edge.

“Gonna fill you with my cum, gonna make you nice and fucking pregnant with our children,” the idea thrilled both of you. “My fucking perfect wife all swollen with our children.”

You agreed loudly. “Yes! Fuck me! Fuck, I want your baby!”

“That’s right, my little love. Your greedy cunt takes me so well. I know you want all my cum, wanna be nice and full for me.”

The end was nigh, you could feel the burning in your stomach blaze higher and higher. You begged him for more, harder, deeper, which he was more than happy to oblige.

“Fuck, babe, I’m gonna cum, gonna coat your tight little pussy.”

It only took a few more rough poundings before Yoongi crushed your lips together. Your orgasm washed over you with the power of the sun. Your eyes nearly rolled back into their sockets, gasping for air against his lips as your body convulsed. You moaned loudly as your walls pulsed around him, as if begging him to give you more and more.

Yoongi closed his eyes and soaked in the feeling, biting your bottom lip as he spilled into you, moaning your name with each pulse. The feeling of emptying himself into you rivaled the highest emotion he had ever felt. It felt like the ultimate expression of his love, his devotion.

He held you close as you both breathed heavily, allowing the afterglow of intense orgasm to bathe you in serenity. He carefully slid his cock from within you, groaning at the sight of a slow drip of seed following out your lips.

“I love you,” he murmured, leaning to kiss your lips tenderly this time. “I meant what I said. I want you to be mine again, forever.”

Tears sparked at your eyes, feeling more full, more loved, more warm than you had ever felt before.

“I love you, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi held you in his arms as he showered you, kissed your body in the warm water, dried you gently with soft towels, and pulled you close in his bed. You melted against his body perfectly, two puzzle pieces who had been trying to force themselves into the wrong spot, finally coming together.

‘We cordially invite you to the wedding of…’

Min Yoongi felt anxious.

His stomach flipped. His palms were sweaty. His breathing was faster.

A warm hand landed on his back as the ex-rapper stared at himself in the mirror.

“You did it,” a gentle voice spoke. Yoongi looked at the male through the mirror.

“Jimin,” he breathed, feeling a bit of his anxiousness float away with his friend’s words.

Jimin smiled, pink lips puffy and sweet as always.

Yoongi felt his heart clench slightly. Jimin was the one who saved his life, who stuck a needle in his thigh and revived him when Yoongi was on the verge of death. He choked up at the idea that being here wouldn’t have been possible without the pink-haired boy.

He gazed at his trusted friend, no longer an assistant but a constant companion in the tight group of 7. He wanted to tell Jimin so much, thank him for saving his life, for pressuring him to check into rehab, for feeding him when he was too drugged out to care.

Yoongi didn’t need to say anything. Jimin understood at the tears pricking Yoongi’s eyes. Jimin’s cheeks turned pink, and he nodded slowly.

“You deserve this and more, Min Yoongi,” his voice was full of such care and sincerity. “I may have revived you, but you saved your own life. I just gave you the spark to continue it.”

Yoongi had started his adult life as an addict, as an award-winning musical artist with platinum albums and money, status, reputation. Grief had consumed Yoongi, along with regret, sorrow, loneliness.

Yoongi fought back, pushed against the odds.

Yoongi was beginning a fresh life—as a recovering addict, a therapist, a best friend, a husband.

He smiled at himself in the mirror as his groomsmen surrounded him and joined in the moment of happiness. It was peaceful. It was joyful. Yoongi smiled at each of the 6 men who affected him.

Hoseok, from childhood who allowed him to face the ugly fact that he was killing himself. Namjoon, his nurturing manager, who protected him at all costs and stood by his side through each dirt-dredging tabloid. Taehyung, his creative muse, his inspiration. Jungkook, his reason for health and wellness, his comedic relief. Seokjin, the therapist that changed his life and course of his future. Jimin, the man who saved his life, who accepted and expected nothing in return except Yoongi’s sobriety and happiness.

Together, the men walked out of the dressing room and orderly into the reception hall.

Yoongi took his place at the altar, the very one he left you at, and inhaled a breath.

The piano played gently, a soft and light version of the traditional song. It sounded ethereal. Yoongi felt as if he was flying.

The large, oak double doors swung open and the parade of flower girls and bridesmaids walked down the aisle to stand opposite the groomsmen.

Yoongi stopped breathing as the music played louder, more intently, more beautiful.

You appeared.

You looked like an angel.

Your mother flanked you to give you away. You both looked more beautiful than he could have ever recalled.

Yoongi couldn’t stifle the tears that poured out of his eyes. He couldn’t pull his gaze from anywhere but you.

There you were. Walking towards him, as if a dream. The loveliest of dreams. Wrapped in silk and chiffon and lace, delicate pearls around your neck.

Yoongi would endure it all again, feel every ounce, to have this moment.

It was complete as you stood next to him, hands clasped in each other, tears sliding down each other’s face.

At the word of the pastor, Yoongi leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, sealing you as husband and wife, finally.

Yoongi was on the inside of your orbit now, basking in the warmth he had desired before on the outside. Yoongi simmered in the sweet, gentle glow of you and your encompassing love.

Now, Yoongi knew what it felt like to be the one on the inside of your world, instead of looking in from the darkness. Yoongi knew it now, and knew, with all his heart, that he deserved to remember it for the rest of his long, healthy life.

Yoongi was living.

Yoongi was finally, truly,

alive.

#bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #ksmutclub #hyungsmutsociety #btswriterscollective #minthlynet #heartsforbts #bts fic #bts smut #bts angst #bts yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #agust d #bts agust d #bts suga #suga

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coldshrugs · 3 years

Text

vacation, had to get away

featuring: rook and rebecca greene + baby alma word count: 2k note: a @wayhavensummer entry for the 7/11 prompt vacation. warnings for suspense/dark tones and imagery/the feeling of being watched. this isn't what i usually write, but it was a lot of fun!

--- ☀ --- ☀ --- ☀ --- ☀ --- ☀ ---

When Rebecca tells Rook she doesn't want to go on this vacation, she doesn't tell him why. The car is mostly packed. The beachfront hotel has been booked for months. They bought the baby a swimsuit, for god's sake.

No, she doesn't tell him why. It isn't tangible enough to be convincing.

"Let's call it off. There are so many things I could get done at work this week."

"Becks, I say this with love: you're a workaholic. We're going to the beach for the week." He punctuates it with a kiss. Rebecca doesn't miss the unmarked beige envelope Rook slips into one of the last minute bags; she's not the only one with work in mind.

The following morning, they pile into the car with a few more duffles and that horribly itchy feeling on the back of Rebecca's neck.

She asks Rook to wait while she double (triple) checks the front door is locked. Of course it is.

The itch lingers as they pull out of the driveway. It sticks with her all the way to the edge of town.

"Tell me something I don't know about you," she beams once they're on the highway, once she can breathe.

Bare feet on the dashboard and sunglasses covering her eyes. The sun hasn't even peaked, but it's scorching already. They roll the windows down, and her hair, free from the usual oppressive bun, whips around her face. She feels like Becks for once. Not Rebecca.

"You know everything about me, B."

"C'mon, there's gotta be something." Her mind spins to the envelope in his bag. "One single thing."

"Okay," Rook begins. Full lips part into a hypnotic smile as he chews on the story. "I had a friend in college, Zack, that taught this contemporary dance class a couple weekends each month. It was a few extra bucks in his pocket and he got a couple dates out of it; a pretty sweet gig, right? One weekend he overdid it the night before his class. He shows up at my dorm, looking like death and practically begging me—" his voice rises— "'Otis, please man. I can't lose this job, can you just go down to the rec center and sub for me?'"

"You?" Rebecca recoils, silent laughter shaking her shoulders. "You can't dance to save your life."

"I know this. You know this. Zack should've known this, but apparently he didn't."

"What did you do?"

"I went down to the rec center, put on some Grandmaster Flash, and did the worst interpretive dance you can imagine."

Rebecca shoves the sunglasses into her hair, helplessly wiping at the tears running down her cheeks.

"Zack still owes me," Rook sighs. "Wonder what he's up to now."

Rebecca forgets, for a moment, the nagging in her gut that tells her this is a terrible idea. This is what they need; a week away from Wayhaven, from the Agency, from whatever is... watching.

A week to be normal.

Yeah, this is good.

They stop for gas about halfway to the coast. Rook fills the tank, while Rebecca throws Alma on her hip and heads into the store.

She and the baby jabber back and forth about snacks, and she holds up packages of fruit gummies and crackers for Alma to choose with tiny hands. It's then that her stomach lurches. The unwelcome fingers of dread, cold and sick, squirm against her scalp. She drops both packages, almost drops Alma too. The doorbell chimes, and her grip tightens around her daughter as she turns toward the entrance.

It's only Rook.

And a man in the corner.

She didn't notice him before. He wears a dark suit, and his face is like a knife, and he rushes toward Rook. His sharp features are unsettling even in his haste. He knocks against Rook's shoulder with a rough thud. Rook, transfixed by the sudden touch, watches the man leave. As soon as he's out of the store, the knot of Rebecca's anxiety untangles.

"Rook?" She calls across the store. He doesn't budge. She picks up the small mess she made and calls for him again. "Rook."

Only when she touches his arm does he snap out of the trance with a heaving gasp. And then... he's back to normal.

"What are we munching?"

"What the hell was that, Rook? Do you know that guy?" Her voice is a harsh whisper as she tries to keep Alma from hearing her fear.

His gaze pans slowly, vacantly, from the door to Rebecca. "What guy?"

Like a thick, dry pill, apprehension sits heavy in her throat. She swallows it, along with her growing list of questions. She pays for their snacks and leads Rook outside. Every muscle in her body is tense, prepared for a fight until they're in the car again.

--- ☀ --- ☀ --- ☀ --- ☀ --- ☀ ---

The week rips past them like a tornado through a small town. Their hotel room (a ground floor double-bed setup complete with the usual washed out pastel textiles and white wicker furniture) looks the part. Alma's scattered collection of shells too beautiful to part with, tacky airbrushed t-shirts draped over the chairs, and a healthy sprinkling of sand being ground into the carpet are evidence of that.

They spend the days exploring the aquarium, strolling the worn and salty boardwalk for unusual shops, dipping into local eateries for fresh seafood. Every other moment is spent on the beach; building sandcastles or running into waves with the baby between them and swinging her up at the last second. Salt spray in her bouncing mass of curls and her squealing laugh stolen by the wind.

Between the clutter and sightseeing, even under the blazing coastal sun, there's always something dark shifting just at the edge of Rebecca's vision. Faint shadows twisting out of view at the last second. The wound-wet itch of unease prickling her skin.

Someone is watching—of that, she's certain.

And then there's the envelope.

Rook's made an excuse or two to be alone. Just running out to grab more sunscreen, or picking up takeout because Alma's too fussy for a restaurant tonight. Innocuous things, but each time he goes, the envelope seems to follow.

Rebecca is sure it holds an answer, or at least a lead.

On the last night of their vacation, he leaves again. But this time, it's a trip for ice-cream with Alma in tow.

Rebecca watches them through the blinds, and once she's sure they're not turning back, she goes for his luggage.

It's not well-hidden. It's nestled under his dirty clothes, sealed with twisted thread that takes a few seconds to unwind. God, he's so unorganized, and for once she's thankful for it.

Carefully, she empties the contents onto the bed: hastily folded, handwritten notes; a few polaroids; and Agency documents? The documents are completely uncensored, not one black bar, not a single covered word. That tells Rebecca everything she needs to know—whatever Rook's doing, it's beyond either of their clearance levels. This is dangerous.

Shit.

That knowledge only nudges her curiosity over the edge. She skims over the pages, drinking in the information as quickly as possible. ...modern supernaturals seek reparations... inhumane treatment... would lose valuable specimens... Agency officials refuse to negotiate.

His notes list locations all over the east coast, some underlined, including the beach they're visiting. The photos show imprisoned supernaturals, each noxious gas cloud above them and their faces distorted in silent, exhausted screams. She recognizes some of them, though she's never been allowed to view them outside a transport situation.

But what's he doing with this? How on earth did he get all this?

A pounding knock shakes the door. Rebecca, torn away from this unplanned investigation, loses hold of the papers in her hands. They flutter to the floor.

"Shit, shit, shit." She scrambles to collect the documents and put them in order.

The knock booms through the room again, more impatiently this time.

Rebecca stalks to the door, dipping into her handbag for the Agency-standard volt gun as she goes. No one's there when she presses her eye to the peephole, but a third thunderous knock sends her stumbling backward with a choked scream.

"Agent Rebecca Greene." The voice is icy, hollow, and this isn't a question. They know her. "I would like to speak with you. Now."

The words are more instruction than threat. Rebecca expects any inaction on her part to change that, so she scampers to the door and twists it open.

It's him.

The man from the gas station. She knew it would be, but knowing and seeing—feeling, because every cell in her body tells her that being so close to this man... this creature... is unsafe—are very different things.

His skin (pale, and tight, and plastic-smooth) lacks definition, as if he's bloodless, and his blue irises are just a little too small, mouth a little too wide. He doesn't look real, and she's grateful the shadow of his hat obscures some of his face.

It doesn't hide the jagged line of his pointed teeth when he speaks though.

"That's better. May I come in?"

Against her instinct, she steps aside to let him pass. Careful not to touch her, he strolls across the room as if he's been here before. She wonders if he has, while they've been out.

His eyes fall to the half-opened envelope.

"What do you want?" Rebecca backs up until her legs bump against the bed.

He sucks in a breath and looks toward the ceiling. "I want to know why your husband is meddling . I want to know why he is watching a Watcher, badly. And—" he points to the documents Rook seems to keep with him at all times— "I have been waiting for this."

Without saying another word, he picks them up and starts reading.

Rebecca's presence is inconsequential. She waits in silence, the volt gun half raised. She tries to keep an eye out for sudden movements from the Watcher (and what the hell is a Watcher? Her mind swings through random bits of mythology and something between angel-but-not and urban legend seems to stick), but it's tough to look at him.

Finally, he exhales and, in a whisper Rebecca is sure isn't meant for her, says, "Friend and not foe, then." Louder, to her this time, "You read this. You witnessed."

"Y-yes," she croaks.

"And what did you make of it? What do you think?" His voice is cold, even, judging.

She doesn't know how to answer. A couple minutes is hardly enough time to sort out the ethics of this situation, much less her own standing. She's done no research, but she's never had reason to doubt the Agency. The only truth she knows right now is this man feels like death walking.

"I don't know what to think. I need to speak to my husband. If he's in trouble, I can help. The Agency can help—"

"If you so readily walk the line between advocate and adversary after witnessing an injustice, then you have made a decision, Rebecca. We cannot use you."

He pulls a pen from his pocket and gives it a sharp click (the movement and sound almost make her pull the trigger of her volt gun, almost) and scribbles something on the back of Rook's notes. Then, he neatly returns the contents to the envelope and tucks everything back into the luggage.

He turns to Rebecca, and his mouth, his smile is wide enough that the corners of her own throb. Phantom cracks that make her wince. Impossibly sharp. "I mean you no harm, and you will not remember."

In a blurred rush, he squeezes her shoulder. Her knees buckle as the door slams.

--- ☀ --- ☀ --- ☀ --- ☀ --- ☀ ---

"Becks? Hey. Hey, Rebecca, are you okay?"

It's Rook. An echo of him, anyway.

His voice is caught between the song she's humming and another unnamed voice that floods her mind like ice water. She doesn't want to touch that, so she focuses on the song.

And on Rook's warmth.

Dappled morning light across his rich brown skin. Rook softly snoring, softly singing, softly whispering the ways he loves her. She could stretch those small undeserved moments into infinity, the ones in which Rook smooths the roughest of her edges, turns her in his hands and makes her soft too.

He is the quiet thrill of crawling into already warm blankets, the taste of strawberry pie, the sun and the wind on her skin on a long car ride.

He is endless joy, and he is hers.

Right?

Then the warmth is a real pressure against her cheek.

Her eyes are already open but she sees him, both of them, for what feels like the first time. Rook, chaotically charming even through a cloud of worry. Alma, plump and curious, their brightest star.

"How was the ice-cream? Did you guys bring one back for me?" She leans up for a kiss.

Rook meets her lips, brows knitting in confusion. "You okay? You were really zoned-out for a second—and why is the volt gun out?"

She shakes her head. Not a thing in the world could be wrong. They're on their first family vacation. It's been a wonderful trip.

She doesn't understand why he looks so concerned.

"I'm not sure," Rebecca smiles, "but this vacation was exactly what we needed."

#azia writes #wayhavensummer #twc #rebecca/rook #this REALLY ran away from me and i'm sorry like i feel like it's not fitting for the event AT ALL but #it's so much fun to think about rook and rebecca and the events that led to rook's demise #and i have so many urban legends just sitting around in my brain SO I HAD TO THROW THE OBSERVERS IN #anyway pls enjoy my spooky scary summer story

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reneejuliet · 3 years

Text

Only Human

Author: reneejuliet

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Rating: T (cursing, mention/description of blood, kissing without consent, a slap to the face)

Word Count: 1,188

Genre: Angst, Idol AU (I seem incapable of writing anything else, I know)

Author’s Note: Another drabble! This one is angsty, sorry in advance. I can’t help but love to make people hurt. And as much as I love Yoongi (which is a LOT), it was just too easy with this. Anyway! I hope you like it, and as always, please let me know what you think!

You grunted under his weight, heaved haphazardly onto your shoulder as you dragged him through the halls toward the dorm. It wasn't that he was heavy - on the contrary, he weighed less than you did, for goodness' sake. It was that he was wasted, completely beyond offering any sort of aid in getting his own damn body through his own damn front door. And despite how many times you have had to do this, it never gets any easier. Especially when arms keep throwing themselves around various parts of your body like a drunken squid.

"Damn it, Yoongi, enough," you hissed through your teeth as you finally managed to free a hand long enough to twist open the doorknob, allowing your foot to kick the door open. It ricocheted loudly against the wall before swinging back to collide with your shoulder, but you didn't care. If anything, maybe it would wake up one of his six roommates and they could drag their hyung's inebriated ass to his bed. Though, given his current level of cooperation, you doubted anyone would get him further than the couch.

His response was slurred as you heaved your body forward, dragging him with you. He rolled from where he had been propped on your shoulder, and if it weren't for your quick reflexes, he would have crashed onto the ground. Luckily for him, this was not your first go at this, and you were well-versed in all the warning signs. You felt him slipping, his weight shifting away from you, and you dove. Your hands scooped up under his arms, hooking around his shoulders, and you threw your body weight behind you to counteract his momentum. The result - Yoongi did not crash onto the floor. He did, however, suddenly shoot forward, crashing the back of his head straight into your jaw.

"OW - Yoongi, what the actual fuck!"

You immediately dropped any grip you had left on him, crouching down between your knees as your hands flew up to your mouth. The hot taste of iron swirled on your tongue from where your teeth had smashed into your lip, flooding your mouth. You ran for the kitchen sink, throwing your face down into the sterling silver and pulling your lips up over your teeth to let the blood fall free from your tongue. The smell surrounded you, and you fought back a gag as you spit out crimson.

"Fuck," Yoongi's voice sounded behind you, tinny from where your ears were framed by metal. He rubbed the back of his head, suddenly very awake, and watched as you curled into their sink. The muscles of your back tensed each time you gagged, spitting out more blood, and he found himself reaching out without thinking.

His fingers brushed over the lines of your back, tracing your shape as he stepped closer, trying to soothe you as you coughed. For a moment, you let it be. His touch was hesitant, tender, and you could almost pretend it was under a different context. That he knew what he was doing, that his intentions were purposeful. That he hadn't just drunkenly smashed his head into your face, leaving you the bloody mess you were now.

It wasn't until his palm pressed flat against your back that you snapped, turning and shoving hard against his chest. No, you scolded yourself. This isn't real. It never will be.

Yoongi stumbled back into the island counter, eyes wide in surprise at the sudden burst of violence from you. You didn't spare him a glance before turning back to the sink, turning the water on and rinsing out your mouth. He could hear you hissing in pain with each mouthful of water you took in, and guilt pooled in his stomach.

"Shit, Y/N, I - I didn't mean -"

"Doesn't matter what you meant," you muttered, words thick through your swollen lip. Each time your tongue pressed into it, your face twisted in pain. But at least the blood had finally stopped.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, voice low and raspy. You gripped the counter against the unwitting shiver it sent down your spine. Once it passed, you flung open a cupboard and pulled out a glass, filling it with water before shutting the tap off. Thrusting it out, you turned, free hand covering your mouth as your eyes finally met his.

His stomach only flooded worse with guilt at your offering. Despite your injury, you were still taking care of him. He wrapped his fingers around the glass, gently grazing your own while doing so, and raised it to his lips with a slight bow in your direction. His vision swam as his head tilted back, cold water sliding down his hot, parched throat. It took a second for everything to straighten back out once the glass was empty, and he squinted hard to be sure that when he set it down, it was actually on the counter. Then he looked back at you, eyes drawn to where your hand still covered your mouth.

"Couch, now," you ordered, raising a finger to point into the living room behind him. Thankfully, those two words didn't require the use of your bottom lip, so they weren't as disfigured when they came out. Gulping, Yoongi obliged, turning slowly and walking for the couch. You followed him, albeit at a safe distance, to make sure he made it there alright. He only bumped into the table once before his legs hit the cushions and he dropped.

His body automatically laid out across the couch cushions, knees curling up into his chest and hands tucking between his legs. The room blurred again at the change of altitude, and he was vaguely aware of you throwing a blanket over him. You walked away, your form dark in the swimming lights of his vision as he tried to watch you. When you came back, you set another glass of water on the table before him along with two pills.

"For tomorrow morning, when you wake up," you instructed, your words soft as you favored your injured lip.

You were walking away again when Yoongi called out. "Do you think this is why she left?"

Your heart stopped just a second before your feet, trapping you between rooms as his words echoed brokenly in the quiet. This wasn't supposed to happen, you reminded yourself. Of all the trainees and idols you had helped through the years, all the drunken confessions you had heard out of sheer compulsion from the nature of your job - none were like this. Like him. Min Yoongi.

"Yoongi -"

"I know it's my fault," he babbled, vision no longer obscured only by a drunken haze. He blinked, and the hot tears cut down his pale face. "I wasn't home enough -"

"You were working, Yoongi," You offered, careful to make your words come out clear. The pull on your lip was painful, but it felt important he hear you.

"Not always," he exhaled, eyes fluttering against the exhaustion setting in now. "Sometimes, I... I just couldn't, go home... to her..."

Gooseflesh rose all along your skin, and you nearly bit your lip before remembering the pain, sucking in the side of your cheek instead. Just walk away, you urged yourself. He won't notice, he's too far gone now. Besides, you really did not want to hear more about his failed relationship, or how heartbroken he was over it. It had been hard enough to see him happy with her - seeing him broken over her was so, so much worse.

When he didn't speak again for a few breaths, you believed you were in the clear. Your feet carried you two more steps to the door, heart pounding hard in your chest. You'd just reached for the key you would have to deposit back in its emergency spot as you left when his voice stopped you again - because it was right behind you.

"Do you know why, Y/N? Why I couldn't bring myself to go home to her some nights?"

Your breath hitched in your throat, cold and cutting against your lip. He wasn't touching you, but you could feel his body heat, and that meant he was too close, he was much too close, but you couldn't move. Your body was pulled taut in that moment, and you feared that if you made any move, you would snap.

His fingers brushed over the curve of your neck, where it met your collar, and you inhaled sharply. Your eyes fluttered closed under his touch for a moment, your nerves buzzing heavily where his fingers trailed. Then his breath was on your nape, stirring your hair, and your throat was dry.

"Because she wasn't you."

Your eyes shot open in surprise just as he tugged you around, crashing his lips to yours. You inhaled sharply again, pain searing through your mouth where he pressed against your wound, but he didn't hear. Or he didn't care. It was hard to tell, with the way his hands snaked around your waist and up under your shirt. His lips were soft but firm as he pressed into you, kissing you with a heavy desperation that left you gasping.

Maybe it was the pain in your lip, or maybe it was the taste of alcohol on his tongue. Maybe it was the way your body seized up to prevent yourself from making the biggest fool of yourself. Whatever it was, it was enough to spur you into action. Your hands came up to center on his chest, and as his tongue ran along your lower lip, sending a violent shiver through your entire body, you shoved. Hard. He stumbled away from you, gasping as your warmth was torn from him, his hands grasping at air. His eyes flashed in surprise, and you reeled back to slap him.

"How dare you," you seethed, on the verge of a sob. "How fucking dare you-"

"Y/N-"

"No, you... you are an asshole, Min Yoongi!" Despite the anger on your face, the hurt was clear in your voice. The tears bright in your eyes. "You don't get to, to just - kiss me like that! After all these years!"

Whatever drunken stupor had still been clinging to him sobered up in that instant. His heart leapt into his throat and he choked on the words he wanted to say, his tongue too thick in his mouth. All these years...? You... you couldn't mean...

He opened his mouth around the shape of your name and you moved away, toward the door. "No, no. I'm not - I am not doing this. Not now, not with you. Fuck you, Yoongi -"

His fingers wrapped around your slender wrist, stopping you for just a moment more. The sheer pain on your face at the contact paused him, and you yanked yourself free the very next moment. "No," you whispered, voice full of tears. "I don't love you, I don't."

You slipped out of the dorms just as the first light flickered on in the hallway, sleepy footsteps stumbling their way toward him. And your words echoed in his head, hollowing everything else out until he was left with just one realization, one truth.

You very much did love him. And he was so screwed.

©reneejuliet 2021. No part of this material may be copied, photocopied, reproduced, reposted, or translated without consent.

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ushijimasgirlfriend · 4 years

Text

so this is my first ever writing any of these so im sorry if its bad.

contains: angst, smut, heavy degradation, rough sex, slapping, kinda really mean ): this also contains usive of drugs, toxic relationship LIKE CRAZY.

this includes only ushijima sorry.

so you come home high off pills because you have been so depressed and had a bad day. ushijima knows about your fight with drugs and he hates it. not because hes a goody two shoes it’s because he cares for you, a lot.

so when you come home high off pills you dont even try to hide it you just try and avoid him but he was waiting for you because he was made dinner for you. he heard you come in and welcomed you but he never heard you say anything back.

he goes looking for you around the house and he finds u laying on the floor of the living room, he already knows.

his first thought is to yell at you, so he does. he says what the fuck are you doing. you struggle to look at him because you dont know where he is. you looking around and see him with a dissapointed face, which took you back in junior year when your father first found you off drugs. you get scared at the face he makes and instantly apologize.

hes so mad. you say im sorry am i annoying you, ill go to the other room. he instantly snaps, what the fuck y/n! you dont even look like yourself. get the fuck up off the floor. you say you’re making me nervous stop ushijima. he says no and pulls you up aggressively by the wrist and dragging you to the bathroom. you scream and yell ow to-toshi! stop that youre hurting me. he doesnt answer but he slams you against the wall and throws you on the floor yelling in your face so now you’re coming home high off drugs again?! i thought you stopped that. you laugh in his face not able to control yourself saying sorry i didnt mean to just today okay? ushijima just stares at you in disgust. thats bullshit he then continues to drag you to the bathroom.

once you get to the bathroom he forces you too look in the mirror, look at yourself, you look stupid. you’re nothing but a body only good for drug abuse. you stop your breathing and stare yourself in the eyes, you start to sob uncontrollably. you tell him to let you go but he only grabs you harder. you let out a scream and he whispers in your ear ‘what a fucking disgrace. leave. get your shit and leave.’ he lets go and throws you out the bathroom while he closes the door locking himself in.

you cant hear anything but silence. he screams but all you can hear is pain. did i do this to him? hes right i have to leave. but you cant get yourself to get up. tears still falling down your cheek. you yell and bang on the door ‘ushijima let me in please’ he doesn’t respond so you fall on the floor crawling up in a ball. you hear him whisper form the bathroom ‘i did everything for you. i tried everything to help you.’ you bitch he yells and you can hear him punch a whole in the wall. your eyes widen and your hand goes over your mouth because you dont want him to hear your sobs.

he opens the door grabs his keys and walks to the doorway. ushijima please dont go im sorry i’ll just leave so you can stay. i need you, i need your help. please you look at him as if he is your last resort. and he is. he just looks at you and says get up. you try your hardest to get up but cant do it, the pain, your body doesnt let you. and you know it’s because of those pills. after trying so hard you look up at ushijima you see him walk towards you. he puts you on his back and brings you outside and locks you out.

you thought he was coming out with you. you dont even try to knock or try and get in you just go to the backyard and you cant even walk right. you get in from a window. you cant hear anything in the house but you know he is in there. you look around the house quite as possible. you find ushijima with his head in his hands. you whisper his name. he looks back and says i knew i should have locked that window. he gets up passes by you and you look back and you see him stop in the middle of the hallway he turns back with his head down, hes coming back for you. he grabs your wrist and you can see his bloody hand from when he punched the wall. you dont say anything.

he brings you to the bed and says strip. you do as he says in complete silence avoiding eye contact. when you’re done he says look at me. you look him dead in the eye as you see him undress. you try and break eye contact but he slaps you and says ‘you fucking druggy i said look at me’ you cant believe he even touched you. you sob, you guys hear nothing but your sobs while you continue to look at him.

when hes done undressing he looks at you and says your cheek is red, its your fault. you punch him but it doesnt effect him. youre weak compared to him. he pins you to the wall and says you cant do that. youre going to get punished for that. im not even going to lie y/n, your hair looks amazing today but all your fighting ruined it. you whimper choking out a small ‘sorry ushijima’

he slaps your bare thigh and bites your neck. he pushes you on the bed and says look at me y/n. im hurting you i know, but give me consent. you look at him and nod your head. you think to yourself how did this even happen. im totally fucked.

you look down in fear and see his hard as fucking rock cock. you look up at him and hes staring at you. ‘i know you want it, i’ll give it to you.’ he then grips your thighs and you see that hes about to eat you out. he then without any warning blows on your sensitive clit, you jolt your body up. he takes his big hand and bushed your body down ‘do not move.’ you try your best not to move as he enters his tongue into you. as he is moving it in and out hes rubbing his thumb on your clit. you moan non-stop. as you reach your climax you yell ‘ushijima i-im gonna cum’ as he hears that he stops what hes doing and says okay.

you realized hes edging you on. you yell and say why would you do that ugh! ‘you want my cock? huh right? you slut say it.’ you finally say yes ushijima please i want you cock so bad. he then shoves his cock all the way in. you yell so loud you think the whole neighborhood heard. he didnt let you adjust to his size at all. he covers your mouth and says ‘shut up and take this fucking dick.’

he starts thrusting in and out faster and faster as you hear him moan, which only made you feel better. he says ‘this is what you get when you make me like this. this is all your fault this would have never happened if you were just a normal girl.’ you start tearing up and he notices and ignores it. still thrusting in and out, faster and faster. you yell ‘im going to cum toshi, please go faster.’ he does ‘cum with me baby.’ as you both reach your climax and cum on his dick as you feel him fill you with all of what he has.

he looks at you while tears are falling. ‘clean up, you look dirty’ while he whipes off your tears. he gets up and throws his oversized tee-shirt at you thats smells exactly like him. he then throws on boxers and brings you to the kitchen where he still had the dinner prepared from earlier. ‘dont fucking do that again y/n or i will go crazy.’ you just nod as you drank some water.

THE END HEHEHHEEHEH

omg okay so im sorry if this was too long, bad, or even way too much for some of you guys but ive been wanting to see one of these really bad so i made it myself. sorry if i made any of you guys uncomfortable:,(. even though i know ushijima would never do this to a woman, this was just the point of the story ig ‘ushijima in a toxic ass relationship’ can you guys PLEASE tell me how you feel about this bc its my first story ever hehehhe. anyways maybe even put in some recommendations. also sorry if there were typos lol

#ushijima x y/n #anime #haikyuu #sports anime #ushijima x you #ushijima smut #ushijima imagine #ushijima scenarios #hq ushijima #ushijima fic #toxic relationship

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psychovigilantewrites · 5 years

Text

Just Drunken Talks

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Genre: Drabble smut

Word Count: 1,305

A/N: I wanted to try out something different and new after I read a fic written in a similar style on ao3. I thought it was a nice challenge and I definitely had a lot of fun writing this! It was supposed to be SFW but uhm you guys know me and you guys know I just cant resist writing smut hehe enjoy!

Masterlist

Ko-fi

You should head to bed, Princess. You’re drunk.”

“I- I’m not drunk. Just a lil’ tipsy s’all.”

“Sweetheart, you’re definitely drunk.”

“How would you know, huh?”

“Coz you’re looking at me funny.”

“Maybe because you’re funny lookin’, Jay- hey, don’t roll your eyes at me!”

“Come on, I’ll carry you to bed.”

“It’s fine, I can sleep on the couch right here.”

“The last time you slept on the couch you complained about back aches the whole week. Come on, let me help you up.”

“But, Jaaaaaaay.”

“What is it?”

“I just want to stay here with you for a bit. Please? You hardly come home anymore. It’s just mission after mission. You’re my housemate but you’re barely home.”

“You got me here the whole weekend, sweetie.”

“Please, Jay? Let me cuddle up next to you like this just a little longer.”

“Fine. But you gotta stop with the funny looks.”

“What funny looks?”

“You know, with those eyes.”

“Are you sure you’re not drunk too, Jason?”

“Yes! You keep on giving me those weird eyes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“See, you’re doing it again! Stop looking at me like- like-”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to sex me up or something.”

“Maybe I do, Jay.”

“Woah, woah, what’re you doing?”

“M’trying to kiss you. Comere.”

“Princess, you are drunk outta your mind. No.”

“Please.”

“No way in hell.”

“Please, Jay?”

“Fuck- stop that.”

“I haven’t even moved, Jay.”

“No, stop with the voice.”

“Now you have a problem with my voice?”

“Yes, you’re making it sound all weird and sexy.”

“Are you sure it’s not because I’m pleading?”

“Pretty sure it’s because you’re making it extra sultry on purpose.”

“Do you like it?”

“Like it? N- I mean, yeah- but, that’s not the point!”

“What’s the point, baby?”

“Fuck, fuck. The point is, you’re killin’ me.”

“I just want a kiss, baby. That’s all I want.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“But I like calling you that. And from what I can see, you do, too.”

“What? What are you- oh, fuck. No, this is because you’ve been frisky with me all night.”

“Hmm, I still made you hard without even touching you, though.”

“When you look at me like that, and make your stupid voice sound like that, it’s enough to make anyone hard.”

“So it is because of my voice? You’re being inconsistent, Jason.”

“Incon- wait, what the fuck? Are you even drunk anymore?”

“Just a bit tipsy.”

“Fuck, you scheme like Bruce.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s not a compliment.”

“Can you kiss me now?”

“What- no! You’re still under the influence.”

“I thought you liked me, Jason.”

“I do. I do like you.”

“But just as a friend?”

“You know we’re more than just friends, sweetheart.”

“Like, best friends?”

“Sure……. Why are you pouting like that?”

“Nevermind. This was a mistake. Forget this ever happened. I’m heading to bed.”

“Hey, come on. Don’t go. Sit back down here. That’s right. Now, you know I can’t kiss you when you’re drunk. It’s not right.”

“It’s not just about that.”

“Then what is it about?”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t think I should tell you.”

“Well now that you’ve brought it up, you just gotta.”

“It’s not that simple, Jason.”

“Look. We’ve known each other for like, what? Eight years now? Since we first met in Titans Tower? Sure, I died for a bit in between, but we’ve been housemates for like, the past two and a half years?”

“So?”

“So, you can trust me. You can tell me anything and I won’t judge. You know that.”

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“That it’ll ruin things between us.”

“Hey. Nothing can ruin things between us. You can try to shoot me and I’ll still forgive you. So are you going to tell me?”

“Fine.”

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart, it’s been a whole minute! You gonna tell me or not?”

“Ugh, fine, I like you, okay? I’ve… I’ve caught the feels, or whatever.”

“That’s cool.”

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“That’s your response? Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I’m just messin’ with you, come on. I like you, too.”

“Like, more than just best friends?”

“Definitely. Had a crush on you since Titans.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Wanted to bash Roy’s head in when he was flirting with you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you, baby?”

“Did you just call me baby?”

“Yeah. You like it?”

“I kinda do.”

“Good.”

“Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you kiss me now?”

“Are you drunk?”

“I told you, I was tipsy!”

“And are you still tipsy?”

“I kinda never was…”

“What?”

“I pretended to be drunk so I can make a move on you. And if it didn’t work out I could just blame it on the alcohol.”

“No wonder. You were too sharp to be drunk.”

“So can you ki- mmpf!”

“Fuck, baby. Been wanting to do that since forever.”

“Me too.”

“Comere. Sit on my lap. Yeah, straddle me like that. God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Mmmm, fuck! Do that again.”

“You like it when I bite your lip?”

“Yes, just not too- ow! I said not too hard, dumbass!”

“Ow! Why’d you smack me like that!”

“Because you’re such a- oh, god. Oh, God, Jay.”

“I love it when you wear these shorts. So flimsy. So easy to slip aside and-”

“Ah, fuck!”

“Do me a favor and take off your top for me, baby.”

“Anything you say, Jay.”

“Such a good girl. Fuck, I’ve always wanted to see your tits. I’ve always wanted to…”

“Hnngh, shit, Jason. Keep- keep sucking. God, please don’t stop. Fuck, let me take off your-”

“Ah, fuck. Straight at it, huh?”

“So big, Jason. Want to choke on it. Can I choke on it?”

“Fuck, baby, don’t talk like that while you’re stroking me.”

“Why not?”

“Because- fuck- because you’re gonna make me come too soon.”

“But I want your cock inside my throat, Jason.”

“Some other time. I want to feel your pussy. Come here.”

“Oh my god. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck fuck fuck, Jason.”

“Fuck, you’re so tight, holy shit. You feel so good around me, baby girl.”

“Ah!”

“Oh, you like it when I rub your clit while you ride me?”

“Don’t stop!”

“Fuck, look at those tits bounce. Fuck! So fucking sexy.”

“Jason. Oh, Jason, oh, fuck.”

“You wanna come, sweetheart?”

“Yes!”

“Wanna come all over my cock?”

“Yes, Jason, please.”

“You gotta wait a bit, okay? Wait for me, and we’ll come together. Can you do that?”

“Hnng, I’ll try.”

“No trying, baby. Can you or can you not?”

“I can!”

“There’s a good girl. So fucking good for me.”

“Fuuuuck.”

“Okay, baby, you ready?”

“Yes!”

“You ready to come with me?”

“Yes, Jason, yes!

“Okay, come with me, baby. Come with- fuck. Fuck. Ah, fuck, fuck fuck. Fuuuck.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Here, let me take it out-”

“Ah! Slowly, asshole!”

“Sorry, baby. My bad. Shit, I came a lot in you. Fuck, do you need the pill? I’ll run to the pharmacy.”

“It’s okay, I’m on birth control.”

“Ah shit, my cum is just dripping out of you.”

“Mmm, feels good.”

“Babe, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Rub my cum all over your pussy like that. You’re gonna make me hard again.”

“Good. We’ve got the whole weekend, don’t we?”

“Yes, we do. Though, we might get some noise complaints. You were pretty loud.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no. I loved it. Now that asshole down the hall will know you’re mine.”

“Am I?”

“Of course- unless. Unless you don’t want to be. I mean, it’s fine if you don’t. I won’t be mad or-”

“Of course I do, Jason. But on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“Come back more? Please?”

“Oh, baby, I’ll hang around you so much, you’re gonna be begging for me to leave.”

#jason todd x reader #saturday drabbles #drabbles #jason todd reader insert

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

You're the Best Part (Heidi x Jaida) - Frankenvenus

a/n i wrote for this pairing cause of the way heidi and jaida talk about how close they got on the show which is so cute. i thought fuck it! let’s write a pregnancy au. the title is a lyric from best part by daniel caeser & h.e.r - 2 very talented black artists.

Jaida didn’t plan it. She had been with her deadbeat boyfriend for seven months before realising she didn’t swing his way. She ended up coming out to him over a very uncomfortable dinner date, and before she could even register what was going on, he had packed everything of his from her small Wisconsin home and left.

It was difficult at first. When your life revolves around this one person, it’s hard to find meaning when things are just over. Heidi helped - of course. Heidi from across the street - Jaida’s ride or die. There wasn’t a dull moment around the younger woman. Although the break up was rough and sudden, Heidi was by Jaida’s side to ease the pain.

Then, out of nowhere, Jaida fell sick. She would just be sitting, minding her own business when she would suddenly feel nauseated. She would have to rush to the bathroom and throw up, then she’d sit there for hours afterwards, head pounding painfully at the mere thought of food. It wasn’t until Heidi came over did Jaida move from her position. The young blonde rushed towards where she lay on the bathroom floor, placing a hand on her forehead.

“Jesus, girl. You are burning up. Let me get you some Tylenol or something I-” she yanked open Jaida’s medicine cabinet above her sink, rummaging through it for any kind of pain killer. “Are you food poisoned? It wasn’t my soup, was it? Fuck, I knew it smelt funny.”

Jaida groaned, wisps of her brown hair clinging to her forehead with sweat. She felt disgusting. She felt even worse having to tell Heidi that she hadn’t touched her soup. She just wasn’t feeling it. She had started to have strong cravings for peanut butter over the previous few days, so she had only really been eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for meals.

Upon telling Heidi this, the young blonde’s face dropped.

“Cravings?”

“Mhm.”

“Bitchhh,” the girl bit her lip and she looked at Jaida with a strange expression, “When was the last time you, you know… did it?”

“Did what?”

Heidi thought over how to say what she wanted to respectfully, without crossing the line. After dodging the big word with many synonyms to no avail, she just said it straight up. “When did you last get fucked?”

The older woman’s jaw went slack, suddenly feeling like passing out. She gripped the bottom of the sink to steady herself. She and her ex-boyfriend had had sex at least twice in the month prior to their break-up, and although she had been taking her birth control, he had consistently refused to wear a condom. Jaida remembered from her college reproductive biology class that 1 in 100 women would get pregnant on the pill annually. She really hoped she had food poisoning instead of being part of the unlucky 1%. She directed Heidi to the emergency pregnancy test in her cabinet, and the blonde promptly waited outside whilst Jaida followed the instructions printed on the box.

“Can you please talk to me whilst I wait? Distract me with your dumbass stories or somethin’,” Jaida joked, but her voice was shaky.

“Did I ever mention I’m a dom top?” Heidi began, and Jaida almost choked. “Yeah, I like tied a gal to the bed once. She said I was really good at it, but I wouldn’t know. She sounded super bored so I wanted to impress her. Her name was like… Dahlia, I think… and when I was fucking her I couldn’t stop thinking about the Black Dahlia and how when they found her body her mouth had been cut into a smile-”

“Preferably not about murder, Heidi. Chile…” Jaida tried to sound angry, but god it was hard. The fact that she was sitting here, possibly pregnant, after throwing up non-stop and Heidi could still elicit a laugh from her blew her mind.

Five minutes passed, Heidi continued to lie about being a dom-top, and then it was time to check the test.

“Heidi? Can you come in and look for me? I don’t think I can do it myself,” breathed Jaida, and her friend nodded without a word. The brunette clenched her fists subconsciously, looking at the floor whilst Heidi picked up the small stick.

“What do the two red lines mean again?” asked the blonde.

Fuck.

Jaida had made the decision not to tell her ex-boyfriend, the father of her soon-to-be child, that she was pregnant. She had heard from mutual friends that he had left the state and moved to Illinois, but quite frankly, she didn’t care.

Her mom had been overjoyed upon finding out, for she had always wanted to be a grandmother. She promised to support Jaida as a single mother throughout her pregnancy and her child’s life.

However, the most supportive person in the brunette’s life at that moment in time was Heidi. Heidi would always knock on the door and bring round a dish that matched Jaida’s daily cravings, she would buy her non-alcoholic wine so they could still drink and watch movies together, she would tend to Jaida when her mourning sickness got back and she would attend every single one of her friend’s check-ups. Jaida was starting to believe Heidi was her guardian angel - because she sure looked like it.

They sat together in the waiting room for Jaida’s second ultrasound. She was nearing her second trimester, and although it was small, there was a visible bump on her stomach. Heidi couldn’t take her hands off it. The blonde held a cheap magazine in one hand and kept her other hand on Jaida’s tummy, awaiting the feeling of a kick (although Jaida had told her it was likely too early for that.) Heidi mocked the trashy magazine headlines while they waited, causing the brunette to laugh so hard she almost cried.

“Girl, one day you’re gonna make this fuckin’ baby shoot out of me five months early cause I’ve been laughing too hard,” Jaida wheezed, gripping the side of the uncomfortable waiting room chair. People around them stared, but they didn’t pay attention.

Heidi gasped, “Oh my goodness Jaida, you can’t curse! What if your baby hears? You don’t want it to pop out of your coochie trash talking like its mommy…”

“Shut up bitch!”

Before they could disturb their surroundings anymore, a nurse entered and called them in. Jaida sat herself down on the chair and the nurse reclined it back slightly. Heidi sat on a small stool to the left of Jaida, watching Jaida with a shit-eating grin on her face. The sonographer, Dr Cox, entered the room, pulling gloves onto her slender hands.

“Well, I can see you have developed a small bump since your last check-up with me,” Dr cox smiled, applying lubricating jelly to Jaida’s stomach to prevent friction from the ultrasound transducer. The gel sent shivers through the brunette, but Heidi reached for her hand and warmed her up. “How are you feeling?” asked the sonographer.

“I’m feeling great. The sickness and nausea have kinda gone away. I’ve been having lots of cravings though,” Jaida sighed, “But it’s all good. Heidi over here got me a Build-a-Bear as a baby shower gift, but it’s more so for me than the baby.”

Dr Cox chuckled as Heidi flipped her hair like the proud best-friend she was.

“Isn’t it early for baby gifts? You don’t even know the gender yet!” Dr Cox said as she hovered the transducer over Jaida’s stomach.

Heidi cut in, “I think she’s plannin’ to raise the baby neutral. She’s gonna let it decide what it wants as it gets older. Until then, we are dressing it rainbow.”

Dr Cox couldn’t help but grin as she stared into the ultrasound, and Jaida felt her face heat up, hoping that the doctor wouldn’t notice. There was just something about the way Heidi spoke with such confidence and conviction that made Jaida’s heart swell in ways she didn’t know it could. What also caused the brunette’s head to spin was the way Heidi said we. They were going to raise this child together.

“Well, of course you can raise the baby gender-neutral. That’s a great idea,” Dr Cox chuckled, moving the transducer across, “But, I can tell you the sex. I can see it right here!”

Jaida’s eyes widened, “You can?”

“Mhm. Do you wanna know?”

“Uh, yes please. Duh.”

Dr Cox pointed at the screen as Jaida and Heidi watched curiously, “Thatis a little girl!”

Jaida tipped her head back in pure bliss. Although she hadn’t spoken it out loud, she had desperately wanted a girl.

“I am so happy. No loud ass boys in this house!” Heidi clapped with glee.

“You don’t even live with me,” Jaida laughed.

“I may as well!”

“Do you have a name for it?” Heidi asked whilst Jaida was biting into a hot pickle - the eight one she had eaten that day.

“Yeah, but it’s a surprise,” Jaida winked with a mouthful of food, “You’re just gonna have to wait and see.”

The blonde slammed her dainty hands on the table, “Bitch! Tell me.”

“Girl, I said surprise. You only have about a month to wait.”

Jaida was right. Her bump was ginormous, to the point that she couldn’t see her toes anymore, and it was clear that the baby was well on its way. Her back hurt constantly, her boobs had swollen their way out of most of her bras, and her hormones were going nuts. She was horny all the time, and incredibly touch starved. Despite having no love for her boyfriend, she missed the feeling of nuzzling her nose into his neck or having filthy words whispered in her ear whilst she was showering.

Every time the brunette looked at Heidi - plump lips, button nose and all - she tried to suppress the need to intertwine their fingers, rub her thigh or gently kiss her forehead. Jaida blamed the thoughts about her friend on the hormones, but deep down she knew there was more to it.

She still hadn’t grown tired of Heidi, even though they had spent practically every minute of the past eight months together. Heidi would still make her warm soup, brew her cups of tea and come over with bags of chips for Jaida, and she would never hesitate. The brunette felt like she owed her life to the younger woman.

It was Heidi’s idea to get the baby’s heartbeat tattooed. They had been given a picture by Dr Cox, and as a birthday gift for Jaida, Heidi had taken her to her friends Widow and Crystal’s tattoo parlour just out of town. The two girls were very well known for their minimalistic yet stylish tattoo designs, and they worked on dark skin flawlessly, unlike many other tattooists in the state. Heidi handed the picture to Widow and the latter was more than excited to execute the idea.

Jaida, being the overly cautious mother-to-be that she was, forced Crystal to thoroughly clean the needle right in front of her out of fear of hurting the child with infection. Crystal assured her that everything was fine and perfectly hygienic, but the brunette didn’t believe it until Heidi told her so. She finally relaxed as Widow pressed the needle against the soft skin of her upper arm.

“How does it look so far?” Jaida asked Heidi through gritted teeth.

“It’s gorgeous.”

“I wish my mom got tattoos done when she was pregnant with me,” Crystal chuckled, preparing the petroleum ointment that she would gently apply on Jaida’s skin once Widow had finished. “That’s so badass.”

“It was all Heidi’s idea,” Jaida smiled, nearly fainting when the apple’s of Heidi’s cheeks reddened slightly.

They were in line at Wendy’s when it happened. Jaida had been craving a spicy chicken sandwich, so Heidi drove her there without debate. The place was busy, so they were waiting for quite a while. Jaida earned a few stares, which was understandable considering she was heavily pregnant. And then she felt it.

“Oh my God, why does it feel like I’m fucking peeing?” Jaida gulped, her heartbeat quickening with distress. “Am I peeing? I didn’t need the bathroom? I feel like my bladder bopped…”

Heidi gasped and grabbed Jaida’s hand, “Holy fuck Jaida, I read about this. Your water just broke!”

It made sense. Jaida’s due date was set for the next week, but for some reason, the brunette hadn’t considered the child being anything but on time. She found it really cute that Heidi had done her research, though she hardly had time to register it because she was being rushed back to the car.

“What about my chicken sandwich?” she frowned as Heidi pressed her foot down on the pedal.

“Fuck your chicken sandwich! We gotta go!”

Thankfully, the hospital wasn’t far. Within ten minutes, they had reached the large building and were being attended to by multiple nurses.

“Oh fuck!” Jaida whimpered as she felt a heavy pressure press against her pelvis, not unlike a period cramp. The nurses told her not to worry, as she was just experiencing contractions, but she was worrying a lot.

Quicker than she could express her feelings, Heidi sensed them. She reached for Jaida’s shaky hand and gripped it, bringing her lips to it and kissing it gently multiple times.

The action was friendly, but it for sure eased Jaida’s pain.

“Heidi can you… can you call my mom?”

“Sure, hon.”

Hon. It seemed like such a domesticated pet name. Jaida felt like crying.

Ten minutes later, Jaida’s mom burst into the hospital room, looking glamorous as ever. Jaida was the spitting image of her, and Heidi found herself wondering if Jaida’s child would be the same.

“Are you okay, sweetie pie?” her mom asked, pushing past Heidi and grabbing her daughter’s hand comfortingly.

“I’m fine. Slightly uncomfortable, though.”

Jaida was still yet to go into labour, but the doctors and nurses had advised that she stay put at the hospital because it was likely that she would start soon. She was extremely nervous. Growing up, she had always found the prospect of birth disgusting and painful. Now that she was experiencing it - she was right. Her head was sticky with sweat, her lips were dry and the milk that had started coming in two days prior had caused her to feel constantly uncomfortable. To her surprise, Heidi had shown her how to use the breast pump, so now she had many cups of milk sitting in the fridge, waiting for baby Hall to arrive.

It wasn’t long before Jaida went into labour, and Heidi stayed by her the entire time (after having to argue with a nurse to try and convince her that she was practically family.) Their hands stayed connected through the entire process, and Heidi whispered Jaida comforting promises whilst the latter screamed in pain and agony.

Jaida didn’t cry often, but in the four hours that it took to deliver her baby, she must’ve cried her entire body mass. She cried harder after Heidi softly whispered in her ear, ‘We can do this together.’ She knew she couldn’t cope simply being Heidi’s best friend and next-door neighbour anymore. She wanted Heidi. Even more so, she wanted Heidi to be her child’s second parent. It was a huge thing to ask, and she told herself that she would never seriously ask it, but she knew that Heidi would make an incredible mom.

After hours of sobbing, the only cries that filled the room were the cries of Jaida’s beautiful little baby. The baby’s small head was already covered with little black curls upon delivery, and Jaida couldn’t help but stroke them softly whilst the newborn fell asleep in her arms. The baby’s nose was small and cute and Heidi had already gently booped it about fifteen times.

“It’s so tiny,” Jaida’s mom gaped.

“Look at its little hands,” Heidi added.

“Y’all wanna know what I decided to call it?” questioned Jaida, and both women nodded profusely, “I decided to call it Willow cause it’s kinda unisex and the willow tree on our street started growing right when I found out I was pregnant. It cannot be a coincidence.”

For the first time that day, Jaida watched as Heidi’s eyes became glassy. They quickly became filled with tears that spilt over after she said, “I love it.”

Jaida looked into Heidi’s eyes and saw something there that she hadn’t seen before. Both their eyes were dark and stared deeply into one another, further past what each of them saw.

“Momma, can you take Willow for a second? I need a moment with Heidi here,” the brunette asked and her mom nodded, carefully scooping the sleeping baby from her daughter’s arms. She stepped out of the room and into the hallway, leaving Jaida and Heidi there alone.

“Thank you for being here,” Jaida sniffled, reaching forward to take her friend’s soft hands, “I really don’t know how I would’ve coped without you. You have helped me more these past nine months than anyone has ever had. I owe you everything.”

“Girl, you’re gonna make me so emotional,” Heidi giggled through her tears, “I am so proud of you. You really said fuck this baby daddy I’m gonna birth this child all alone and raise it alone cause I’m the baddest bitch alive.”

The brunette bit her lip before placing her hand on the side of Heidi’s face nervously, causing the blonde’s lips to part subconsciously, “But I didn’t do it alone. I did it with you.”

Before either of them could say another word, Heidi pulled Jaida in by the back of her neck and tipped their lips up to meet one another in the softest, gentlest kiss either of them had ever experienced. It was nothing like the ones Jaida shared with her ex-boyfriend - those had no meanings - but this meant the world. Nine months of pent up emotions spilt out into the intimate embrace. Heidi’s lips explored Jaida’s hesitantly, like she was made of glass, but the brunette assured her not to be afraid by gently dragging her tongue across the blonde’s lower lip.

After another minute, they pulled away, breathless. They kept staring into one another’s eyes, looking for answers, until Jaida was the first to say it.

“I love you,” she muttered, “I have loved you this whole damn time.”

“I love you too,” Heidi wept, pressing her lips against Jaida’s flushed cheek briefly.

“Heidi I- I don’t know how to tell you this but I… I want you to be Willow’s mom, along with me. I want us to parent this kid together. I can’t do it alone.”

Heidi gasped, “Oh my lord I was waiting for you to ask that.”

“Chile… Are you serious?”

“Yes, bitch! I’ve always wanted to raise a child and teach it my ways and Willow… Willow is so beautiful. Just like their momma. Of course I wanna raise this baby with you.”

“I love you so, so much.”

11 months later

Jaida and Heidi had made an agreement that Jaida was to be called mom and Heidi was momma, to avoid any confusion, however, Willow was still yet to form a real word. Willow was a fantastic babbler and had perfected the art of incoherent sounds and blowing raspberries, but nothing that had escaped their lips was actually in the dictionary.

“Oh lord, what if Willow never speaks… What if they grow up mute?” Jaida panicked, her head in her hands against the kitchen counter.

“Calm down, baby,” Heidi sighed, placing her hand on the small of her girlfriend’s back, “If they’ve got even a fragment of your brain, I just know they’re gonna be a smartass.”

“Smartass!”

A voice echoed across the room. Heidi shoved Jaida gently for mocking her, but Jaida defended herself, promising that it wasn’t her who said it. They were confused for a second before the realisation dawned on them. They rushed towards Willow’s crib where the child sat, sucking on the floppy ear of a stuffed toy.

“What did you just call me, Willow Essence Anthonie-Hall?” Jaida squinted, leaning over the crib to watch her baby’s lips curl up into a smile.

“Smartass,” Willow grinned, causing Heidi nearly to pass out with laughter.

Jaida scooped Willow up and held them over her head, “You can’t say that! Heidi, tell Willow that they can’t say that!”

Heidi was wheezing too hard to respond, but after a minute of bellowing laughter, she managed to say, “Willow ain’t wrong!”

“Not only am I being bullied by my girlfriend, but also my almost 1-year-old kid,” she faux-gasped, “I’m leaving!” she joked, before bursting into laughter. Things couldn’t have been better.

#rpdr fanfiction #heidi n closet #jaida essence hall #heidi x jaida #fic challenge #black girl magic fic #fluff #friends to lovers #pregnancy au #lesbian au #frankenvenus #diversity fic #s12 #rare pair

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duker42 · 5 years

Note

I was wondering if you could write an angsts one-shot set a few months after the fall of the first wall, and y/n is transferred from the MP to the SC. Levi is super disdainful at first partly because of her old job, but also because she doesn’t seem to care about anything, only to find in the ensuing weeks that at her last post, she was a guard for one of the refugee camps and she was kind to the refugees, but a few attempted a riot/uprising which she tried to stop. (See next ask for the rest)

💜Transfer💜

Dusty grey orbs watched Y/N’s every move. He didn’t trust her. Didn’t matter what uniform she was not wearing, she had worn the jacket with the magical fucking horse on the back of it. She couldn’t be trusted if she had been in the Military Police.

It wasn’t just the timing that made Levi distrustful of the newly transferred Scout, it was her attitude. While He could admit that he had a horrible disposition when he joined, he had been plucked from his former life as a thug. Y/N had gone through the normally required three years of training.

Her performance was lackluster, her motivation non existent. He had gone to Erwin with his concerns, only to have the giant blonde Commander tell him she wasn’t what she seemed. He would keep his eye on her just to make sure it wasn’t some mole planted inside the Scouts during the chaos.

Wall Maria had just fallen, the people were in panic and there was discontent and discourse throughout the remaining walls. Food supplies were running low and humanity was quickly descending into the animalistic fight for survival Levi had gown up with in the Underground.

He couldn’t say what made him check on Y/N that night. But something inside told him to go to the apathetic girl’s quarters, despite the hour. His repeated knocks were met with silence, odd for someone was supposed to be in their room. Using the keys that had come with his new promotion to Captain, Levi let himself into her bedroom.

She was sprawled out on her bed, an empty bottle in her hands. Levi’s eyes widened as he ran over to the girl and snatched the bottle away. It was sleeping pills, and by the label the infirmary had just given them to her today.

“Shit!”

Dragging the boneless girl to the floor and onto his lap, he felt that she was still breathing. Sighing in relief, he pulled a small waste basket over to them and grimaced in disgust. Without thinking about it any more than he had to, he forced her mouth open and shoved two fingers down her throat. Triggering her gag reflex, he made her vomit again and again, pills and bile spewing into the bin as he held her over it. When he was satisfied most if not all were purged from her stomach, he lifted her back onto the bed.

Her eyes were still closed, but her breathing was stronger. Walking out of the room, Levi went to wash up and make them some tea. The troublesome brat owed him some answers.

When he let himself back into her room, she was just waking up. Blinking in confusion, she looked around and gaped when she saw Levi bringing a tray of tea over to the bedside table. Pushing her over, he sat down on the edge of her bed and scowled when she flinched away as he went to check her. “Stop idiot. I’m not going to hurt you. I just spent too much time trying to save your sorry ass.”

“Should have just let me die.” Y/N muttered.

“Why?”

“Because it’s my fault.” Levi’s brow furrowed at her cryptic statement.

Y/N sighed and met his eyes. “I used to be a guard at the refugee camp in Karanese.”

Levi paused as he poured the tea. “Isn’t that the one that there was a riot and civilians died?”

Her face turned grim as she took the cup thrust at her. “Yeah….and it’s my fault they died.”

He waited for her to continue. Knew that she wanted to tell him the story now. He handed her a cup of tea as he waited.

“There was….abuse happening in the camps. Some of the guards were using their position to….entertain themselves. Rations were withheld for sexual favors. Fights staged between boys. I tried, Gods I tried to help them. I filed report after report. But no one above me seemed to believe the stories. It wasn’t good enough that I had seen the bruises, seen the torn clothes, the hollow look in a young girl's eyes after she had been brutally raped. There was no evidence.” Her voice was bitter as she spat out the last words.

Disgust engulfed the Captain as he listened, not directed at Y/N but at the pigs she had worked with. He was beginning to understand her indifference to life. She had been caught up in the horrors of this world.

“I spoke with a few that had been causing problems. I begged them to just give me a bit more time. I had written to Premier Zackly and presented him with all of my reports and a detailed letter from the victims. I had faith that they would fix the corruption. Except, I don’t think my letter ever made it out of Karanese. Two days later, another girl had been assaulted and the dam broke in the camp. They started a riot, attacking the MPs. The bastards that had caused all the problems executed the rioters, laughing as they cut them down.”

Her tears were flowing down her cheeks as she spoke, remembering the screams of that day. “When the ‘investigation’ was completed, I was found at fault. I had incited public unrest and discord that led to the riot. My transfer to the Scouts was arranged. They want me to die to keep their dirty secrets. But it is my fault. If I had done more, it wouldn’t have happened. 20 people are dead because I wasn’t brave enough to stand up against my superiors until it was too late.”

“Bullshit.” She blinked and looked at the Captain, surprised. “It’s the pigs who committed those heinous acts fault. Not yours. You were following procedure. It would have worked if they weren’t such corrupt pieces of shit. If you had brought those same reports to Commander Erwin, those men would have been immediately arrested, tried and hung.”

Y/N felt a bit better at his blunt words. “If you had brought it to me, I would have just thrown them off the walls, after removing their balls.” She choked a bit as she sipped her tea. “If you give up, they do win. So you have to fight everyday. Live to make their lives hell. Make them worry that one day they will be exposed for the soul sucking scum they are. They transferred you to shut you up, but the transfer just set you free from their grasp.”

Y/N gave Levi a small smile as she contemplated his words. The honor in this man, this branch was evident. She began to believe that there was still some good in this cruel world to be discovered.

#captain levi #levi ackerman #snk levi #shingeki no kyojin #levi aot #aot fanfiction #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin x reader #levi x reader #captain levi x reader #levi heichou #captain levi fanfiction #levi fanfiction

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freeshavacado · 4 years

Text

My thoughts while reading Gone by Michael Grant:

* wait how old is Sam

* He do be liking Astrid doe

* Damn so Sam is a Leader

* Ew Orc is an 8th grader? 🤮

* Ok I googled it Sam is 14

* I like Quinn

* Sam thinks he’s so awkward but he’s actually really chill so far

* THE PAIN THIS GIRL IS GOING THROUGH OH MY GOD

* Poor Mary :(

* Howard’s a bitch

* Cut to Quinn being a racist motherfucker

* I love Edilio

* Sam is WHIPPED for Astrid

* Orc is such a piece of shiiiiiit

* LANAAAAA :(((

* Poor thing is in so much pain

* Patrick her dog is alive so that’s good

* She’s deadass slowly dying

* Thank god her arm is better

* I want to make this into a TV series

* If Sam and Astrid don’t kiss at some point I swear

* Hahahaha Sam do be shirtless rn

* Why isn’t Astrid happy to see Little Pete???

* MARY. IF YOU POUR HOT ASS COFFEE ON A CHILD, DONT JUST STAND THERE AND THEN RUN AWAY. PUT COLD WATER ON THE BURN

* Aw Mary has had bulimia since she was ten :(

* Ok so what she just took her Prozac and then threw up? Wouldn’t the pill go up too? I think your stomach/body needs like 30 minutes to absorb it into the blood stream...

* HELP SAM HES CHOKING

* Bruh my ass would be so exhausted

* Quinn low key an ass tho

* Lol edilio isn’t standing for this bullshit

* Lmaooo Astrid knew 💀

* Omg little Pete has it too

* Wow Quinn is an asshole pt 2

* I feel like Caine is gonna be a villain...like he’s pretty AND nice? Nah bro too good to be true

* Fucking Orc god 😒😒😒

* Caine is up to some shit 🤨

* Lmao hold up

* Diana probably whipped tho

* Sam please only be a simp for Astrid 😩

* I bet Drake is hot

* Aww computer Jack :) DONT YOU TURN ON ME SON

* “The captain is already maintaining” Bullshit 💀

* Are they really gonna call this eighth grader ‘Captain’?

* LMAOOO THE BASTARD CANT EVEN READ OR WRITE 💀💀💀

* Lol making Sam the fire chief because he was brave enough to go into a fire one time, so therefore he is the most qualified

* Bruh that’s like if I gave a kid the Heimlich maneuver bc he was choking on a gummy worm or some shit and they were like “Well because she did that, she should be the head doctor!!!”

* CAINE IS FULL OF SUCH BULLSHIT OML

* PRETENDING TO CRY N SHIT GOD

* I already know that Diana is gonna try and seduce Sam while she’s actually a spy for the private school kids

* Which, btw, of course it’s the private school kids smh

* I feel like maybe Computer Jack will be someone who eventually switches to the Good Side

* ALSO wow jack really be thinking that he’s smarter than Astrid smh 🙄

* Jack is such a smartsass

* Diana is such a fucking bitch oh my god 😒😒😒

* “You don’t look tough, Astrid” STFU SHES THE TOUGHEST OF THEM ALL

* Ok but I bet Diana and Astrid low key have sexual tension. Like obviously nothing’s gonna happen...but still

* Bruh I hate Caine

* Fuckin Diana with her ‘readings’ bullshit smh

* YESSSS LANA 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 so strong

* Literally how do they not know how to make pasta

* “I thought your people ate tortillas,” QUINN YOU RACIST PEICE OF SHIT UGH

* Poor Bette :(

* Orc is a piece of shit, I know we’ve already established this but I wanted to say it again

* I love Edilio so much

* Orc really using a slur against Edilio huh. Imma kill him

* IM SO DONE WITH QUINN. THIS BITCH REALLY JUST SAID “let him have her” LIKE TF????

* Drake is such a bastard oh my god

* If you hate Quinn and you know it clap your hands 👏🏻👏🏻

* No seriously. I fucking hate him.

* Nooooo Bette died :((

* “I can’t kiss you with your little brother watching” AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

* Did they kiss or not wtf

* What the hell is up with this cat

* Ah so they did kiss!!

* Why didn’t I get details 🤨

* No a baby died 😞

* Quinn s u c k s

* How convenient that Sam got there *right* before Emma disappeared

* Those last 6 minutes before Anna disappeared too and was calling out to her sister, and so for what she thought was her last few minutes on earth she held sams hand :(

* Lol Diana sucks

* ‘WoRDs DONT sCArE mE’ shut up Drake

* Okay Computer Jack is definitely going to betray them because they underestimate him and take him for granted

* You’re telling me Caine and Sam could be TWINS???

* Why was the kiss ‘a mistake’ ?

* Okay NOW they’re awkward

* “But it was the first time I meant it” I CANT. ITS SO CHEESY

* I HATE QUINN

* These kids are crazy violent

* Fuck Diana

* Yikes now Sam only has some of his eyebrows left 😬

* Caine is in love with Diana 👀

* Little Pete might be more powerful than Caine 😛

* THESE KIDS ARE CRAZY LIKE CHILL

* Diana: I really dislike you Astrid: of course you dislike me, I make you feel inferior

* ROASTED ^

* Mmmm Quinn is trying to redeem himself

* “Don’t call me brah. I’m not your brother” OHHHHHHHHHHH HE REALLY WENT THERE

* that’s what you get for being a backstabbing asshole

* Poor Astrid :(

* Poor Little Pete :(

* Bro I need this to be a movie

* I love that Sam just punched Quinn like we had no choice but to stan

* Ok drake would definitely shoot up a school

* Fuck Drake

* Lana is so strong. Like she’s been in so much pain physically and mentally, and she almost died. But she saved herself and now even though she thinks she might be the only person left alive on earth, she is still keeping strong.

* What happens if the boat runs out of gas?

* Bruh these coyotes don’t give up

* THE COYOTES AGAIN??

* “Go out” “You’ll kill me,” “Yes. Go out, die fast. Stay, die slow”

* Wowwwwwwwwwww^

* Lmaooo “L.P.”

* Awwww Sam: “...she was still so beautiful that sometimes he had to look away.”

* Okay he a lil’ horny

* Awe Astrid and Sam hugging I’m soft 🥺

* I’m so sick of these damn coyotes

* Bruh these coyotes 😒

* Diana is annoying

* Literally can’t remember who Andrew is, but they’re about to film his passing away like wtf

* Poor Andrew :(

* “You’re a deep sleeper, Jack. Just now, while you were sleeping? I held your pudgy little hand. Probably as close as you’ll ever get to holding hands with a girl. Assuming you even like girls.” FUCK YOU DIANA

* Okay so Diana will protect Jack as long as he ‘belongs’ to her and does what ever she wants? That’s pretty sus

* Sam and Astrid kissed again 😖☺️

* Lmaooo Albert over here running McDonald’s

* Salads disappeared quickly from the McDonald’s menu since this whole thing? Who the hell orders a salad from McDonald’s?

* So Albert kinda whipped for Mary 👀

* I haaaaatttteeee the private school kids

* Y’know what depending on where I was and who I was with in this situation, I might’ve just killed myself

* “Remember who owns you” ew 🤨

* Diana. I hate you

* Bro I feel bad for Andrew

* How is Lana back at the cabin?

* That IS Lana right??

* Okay things are moving fast between Sam and Astrid. Like she’s already saying “I just want you here with me. Safe” like 🤢

* Lana, about Sam: your boyfriend? Astrid: ThAts nOt WhAt iTs AbouT

* LMAOO AFTER SHE SAID THAT SHE SAID IN A LOW VOICE “kind of” WHAT

* Lol Lana be out here like “yeah shits crazy. Get with the program”

* Ew they’re eating pudding with their hands 🤮

* I don’t care how hungry you are, that’s gross

* Like get a spoon or something

* Lana just called Astrid “smart girl Barbie” 🤨

* Part of me is like “lol” but the other part of me is like “bruh stop Astrid did nothing wrong”

* I still hate Quinn but he is kind of funny

* Lana calling Astrid “the blonde” like girl 😑

* Bruh you’re stuck in a house that is literally on fire and getting hotter by the second as it fills with smoke, now is not the time to be kissing Astrid

* Finally the damn coyotes are gone.

* Sam is so angry and he’s disgusted with himself for being so angry, I relate

* Fuck you, Quinn

* Fuck drake

* I would gladly kill Drake

* OOOOOOOOO EDILIO LIKES LANA AHHHHHH

* SIMP

* omg I love it 😩

* Lmaooooo Sams speech wow

* Sam you should NOT forgive Quinn. Especially not that fast. Yikes.

* Orc should feel bad for killing Bette. I have no pity for him rn

* Yes please kill drake.

* I am so happy that his arm is on fire. 100% he deserves to feel that pain

* Aww that’s kinda nice that Albert is planning thanksgiving dinner for everyone

* DAMMIT DRAKE

* I hate drake so much like dude just shut up and leave everyone alone

* Orc oh my god I could not be rolling my eyes harder right now

* Tbh if Orc and his other friends die, I’m okay with that

* What tf is up with this DVD

* Little Pete caused all of this??? 😦

* I’m sooooo sick of this whole darkness and coyote stuff istg

* Where is Patrick?????

* If Patrick is dead imma throw hands

* Diana is such an evil person. Like Drake is a monster, but she’s horrible in a different way.

* Also ughhhhhhhhhh Drake is back 😒😒😒😒😒 so sick of that mf

* “So. When do we go take down Sam Temple?” 🙄🙄🙄 no one likes you Drake

* AHAHAHHSJAHSHSHHSHD

* SAM JUST TOLD ASTRID HE LOVED HER

* AND SHE SAID IT BACK

* IM. S O F T

* (like my brain is still saying “y’all have talked for less than two weeks and you’re 14”)

* But like whatever 😭❤️

* My eyes just rolled into the back of my skull once Diana appeared

* Taylor low key flirting with Sam tho 👀

* When I first met Dekka, I was all: ‘what the hecka?’

* THOSE DAMN COYOTES

* I’m crying because Quinn couldn’t kill Drake because he was scared, and now children are screaming. Ugh I really wanted him to kill Drake but I understand that killing someone is a crazy thing to have on your conscience

* Call me cold hearted, but I would’ve shot him

* This is all in theory of course ^ I bet if I was in that situation though it wouldn’t be as easy as “just shoot him”

* I don’t think I’ve ever been more annoyed with a fictional character than I am with Drake rn

* Yooo I bet Isabella has some animal powers or sumn

* Caine 🙄🙄🙄 like that emoji doesn’t even come close to describing how annoyed I am

* Wait so is Patrick back now or...?

* Caine really just. Kissed Diana. Because she “owed him”????

* THIS IS SOME BULLSHIT

* I literally hate sooooooooo many characters in this book ugh 😒😒😒

* Quinn is watching Drake kill Sam and is doing nothing. I’m so done with this piece of shit

* Ok finally he tried to shoot him

* “You know it always gets me hot when you say ‘apt analogy.’” “Why do you think I do it?”

* Y’all 🥴🥴🥴

* THOSE DAMN COYOTES

* Literally? Imagine being this heartless. Giving up hundreds of kids to coyotes without hesitation. The hate I have for Caine is real

* Once again, Orc feeling bad for what he did to Bette. And honestly? I’m still okay with that

* This kid is an a l c o h o l i c

* Computer Jack is so annoying like dude stop holding on to Sams leg. Literally

* Still hate Diana, but I like that she’s helping out Sam a little bit

* Ew Diana just kissed Sam on the corner of his mouth 🤢

* I TOLD YALL ^^^

* Yay Patrick is alive :)

* “I guess we won,” Sam said. “Yeah,” Edilio agreed. “I’ll get the backhoe. Got a lot of holes to dig.”

* ^im. Depressed

* I cannot for the life of me remember who Cookie is

* “Orc sat with Howard in a corner by themselves. Orc had fought Drake to a standstill. But no one-least of all Orc-had forgotten Bette.”

* ^good.

* Y’all Sam and Astrid flirting I- 🥴🥴

* We love to see it ^

* Awww “we’re going to the beach” y’all Astrid and Sam are so cute

* THOSE DAMN COYOTES

* FUCK. Goddamn this cliffhanger 😡

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caps-lockdown · 5 years

Text

Operation: Man Flu Part Five

Operation: Man Flu part five!

This is it folks the last installment of this fic! I’m constantly blown away from all of the kind words from all of you, especially since I’m new to this whole writing thing. I truly loved writing this, and even though I am SUPER sad to see it go, I’m really excited for what’s to come! Enjoy!

Pairings: Steve x Shield Agent Female Reader!

Words: 4,150

Ratings/Warnings: I’m going to put hard R here for the whole thing because there’s going to be cussing, mentions of sickness, alcohol consumption, physical fights, mental breakdowns. Jealousy, love triangles (sort of), and lots of crude humor. Just strap in.

Also no Beta so my mistakes are my only thing to claim, I don’t own any characters either, with the exception of the reader, a doctor, and some random characters here and there.

It is in Y/N (Your Name) L/N (Last Name) format. Enjoy!

Part 5

Monday 1130 Hours

“Where are they?” Sam questioned, tapping his foot impatiently as he and the rest of The Avengers sat at the table for their Monday morning meeting. Y/N was never “one to be late, and the fact that Steve “Mr. Punctuality.” Rogers was with her made it worse.

Tony sighed, clearly annoyed. “I’m sure they’re fine Wilson, take a pill.”

“But what if something happened to them last night? They never came back to the Tower!”

“Again, I’m sure they’re fine. If they were smart they probably ran far away from all of you man children when they had the chance.” Pepper added, sticking her tongue to Sam when he glared at her, before going back to staring at the large doors.

It was true, neither you nor the good captain were seen after you had left mid-afternoon the day before to get coffee. You were nice enough to have the rest of the team’s orders delivered, but even your phone went straight to voicemail when Sam and Nat tried calling you. It was beginning to worry your close friend, who had never expected you of all people to act this way. He just hoped you had a good reason.

As if on cue, you pushed through the doors that lead into the briefing room, a tired but elated looking Captain America at your heels. Everyone didn’t take long to notice your joined hands, and you felt a surge of pride when the room burst out in hollers and cheers.

“So sorry we’re late.” You quickly apologized, noting the glare both Sam and Tony were sporting towards you. “Traffic was murder. But we brought lunch!” You slammed the many paper bags on the table, Steve following suit with a case of soda.

“No, you don’t get to go M.I.A for nearly twenty four hours and expect us to just forgive you!” Sam huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You didn’t call! You didn’t come home! You didn’t even leave a note! Where the hell were you Y/N? You worried us sick!”

“I would like to add here that Sam was the only one really worried about you. But he was extremely annoying about it.” Tony deadpanned, glancing over to the food and eyes instantly becoming wide. “Wait…are those cheeseburgers? From Kay’s?”

“As an apology for ditching you all last night.” You nodded, noticing the brunette licking his lips and slowly making his way to the table.

“You’re not out of this by a long shot Y/N. Explain yourselves!!” Sam clucked his tongue and pointed his finger at the two of you.

“We didn’t mean to stay out so late, honest.” You started, looking at the ground before meeting your friend’s inquisitive stare. “We just went for coffee…” Your heart raced as Steve lifted your joined hands to place a kiss on the back of your hand.

“Which lead to a walk in central park. Which lead to dinner.” The blonde added, you feeling all sorts of fuzzy when he didn’t break eye contact. “And then a night in with movies. Y/N here overslept and I didn’t have the heart to wake her. You guys did run her ragged the last few days. “

“You spent the whole afternoon and evening together? Alone? And all you did was eat and watch movies?” Bucky stated, obviously in some kind of shock at his best friend.

“Hey we had to make up for lost time.” Came your quick remark, giving Steve a quick kiss while the ladies almost sighed blissfully at the two of you. Bucky and Sam still looked skeptical, but Tony had full on forgotten about the whole conversation at hand, pulling a cheeseburger and fries out of the bag and wasting no time stuffing his face.

“What the hell Stark?” Sam growled, you laughing as Tony looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “Who’s side are you on man?”

“I got Kay’s Wilson, all is forgiven on my end.” Tony muffled out, bits of burger falling out while the rest of the team joined in on the laughter.

“Traitor.” Sam muttered bitterly as you sat down next to him, Steve taking the seat opposite you.

“I’m so sorry Sam I really am. I know I should have called or texted I just.” You sighed, forcing yourself to look at him straight on. “I promise to let you know in the future.”

Your close friend leaned in closer to you. “Annnnd?”

“Annnnd I’ll give you all the juicy details later.” You whispered. Sam wasted no time clapping his hands and nodding at you, opening a bag and grabbing his own food. Everyone else followed suit besides you and Steve, the two of you grabbing breakfast before you came in.

“We can be friends again then!” You snorted as he bit into a french fry, groaning at the deep fried perfection.

“Now that that’s cleared up, I’m happy for you two by the way.” You gave a small smile to the red head at the front of the room. “Y/N you did mention that you had some footage from this weekend you wanted to play for me?” Pepper asked, and you had almost forgotten about the video you had recorded using Sam’s phone. Quickly snatching his cellular device, you made short work of finding a way to cast the clip onto the large screen. Everyone erupted in chuckles and laughs as Pepper watched her husband in horror.

“Do you have a kiss for your favorite hero sweetheart, or are you going to make me beg?”

“I honestly don’t remember this happening at all!” Tony cried out, watching Nat slap him hard across the face in the video, it shortly ending because you couldn’t stop laughing.

“You don’t remember a thing?” Nat asked, a perfectly arched eyebrow raised at the confused man.

“No…but that explains why my cheek hurt so damn much the next day.” He mumbled, another wave of laughter coming over the room.

“Man it really does look better in HD.” Clint called out, everyone agreeing with him. Tony meanwhile was trying (in vain) to suffocate himself with one of the empty burger joint bags.

“I really don’t think that will ever get old.” Bucky chuckled, pretending to wipe a fake tear from his eye. “Y/N I really don’t know how to thank you for that. Or this weekend for that matter.”

“Yes that’s correct, we are in your debt.” Your eyes moved to the god of thunder, shaking your head. “No no we insist. Anything you wish, we must try to make it up to you. Handling all of us was a major feat, and we owe you.”

You put a finger to your chin, pondering for a few moments before looking at Steve with a mischievous smirk, “Well, there is one thing I’ve always wanted to do…”

One month Later, 1700 hours

Nat stared down at her outfit. “Laser tag Y/N? Seriously? What are we, ten?”

You giggled, bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet as you stood in the foyer of the arena. You could hear the techno music blaring through the walls, all of you barely able to hear the gangly teen as he went over the “Rules” of laser tag. You calmly readjusted the vest, looking to your group of friends and beaming at them. Tony and Pepper rented the whole place for two full hours, complete with a pizza party afterwards.

“Yep! This is what I wanted, so deal! Now who’s gonna be the team captains?” Your eyes immediately shot to Steve, who was buckling the rest of his vest shut. “I volunteer Rogers!”

“Then I naturally, must be the other Captain.” Tony cut in, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Sure Stark, whatever floats your boat.”

“Do I get to pick first then too? That would also float my boat.” Stark’s remark earned an exasperated groan from you. The absolute gull of this man was going to drive you to commit murder today.

“Sure, unless Rogers has any complaints?”

“None from me Doll, let Tony have his fun.” The blonde smirked to you, your face flushing when he gave you gave your hand a squeeze.

“Great! Then I pick Y/N!” You choked on nothing, whipping your head around to see Tony sporting the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Fine, then I get Pepper.” Came Steve’s cool reply, you suddenly feeling like this wasn’t a good idea.

“Bucky.” Stark pointed at the soldier, Bucky grumbling to himself about having his best friend ditch him for a Stark. The two of them continued picking until their teams had been formed. Team Tony consisted of Stark, You, Bucky, Clint, and Bruce. Steve had Sam, Nat, Pepper, and Thor. The teen signaled it was time to head in, you sidling up to Steve to wish him good luck.

“Take it easy on me out there? I don’t have as much on field training as Captain America.” You pleaded, the blonde shaking his head at you.

“Sorry Doll, no promises.”

“Can I give you a kiss for good luck?” Your eyes darted to his lips and then back to his eyes, Steve chuckling as he closed the distance between the two of you.

“Well I won’t say no to my best girl.” You leaned in, only to be ripped away from him by a cocky looking Tony.

“NO FRATENIZING WITH THE ENEMY Y/N!” Offering a small smile you were pulled into the arena, your team heading up to the upper level while Steve and his team stayed on the ground. Tony handed each of you your own communications ear piece, which you were more than thankful for, knowing Nat had brought enough for everyone earlier that day.

“Check check is this thing on?” You spoke into it softly, the static clearing out once everyone had theirs on.

“Hear you loud and clear sweetheart.” You smiled at Steve’s voice. At least you’d be able to hear him.

“Yea Y/N, prepare to lose!” Sam’s taunt crackled in your ear, you smirking as both Clint and Bucky took to perching on opposite sides of the room, giving your team a much needed advantage with Nat and Steve working together.

“Alright everyone, no cheating of any kind will be tolerated. This is your only warning.” Bruce threatened, all of you agreeing as the teenager outside began the countdown. Crouching low, you made yourself extremely small, fitting into a dark corner which gave you full visual access to both ramps coming up to the floor.

“Three…Two…One…GO!”

The loud techno music from earlier came as an assault to your ears from the sound system, the walls vibrating as the bass matched the beat of your heart. You could hear the sounds of other’s vest’s being hit, the game starting out with a bang.

“Is that all you got Rogers? I’ve seen better shots from seven year olds on Call of Duty!” Tony taunted, you watching as he ducked behind a large neon green barrel while your blonde boyfriend came running up the ramp to your left. A large flash of light to your right resulted in you bringing a hand up to your mouth to conceal your laughter. Sam had rushed the other side and caught Stark, shooting him square in the back.

“So you want to play dirty huh?” Tony asked before slipping into the darkness while his vest counted down the reset time. Well that can’t be good.

Meanwhile Nat was dodging shots from Clint and Bucky, flipping her way across the bottom floor while Bruce and Thor just kept shooting at one another from behind half walls. You could hear their laughter, happy that at least some people hadn’t been taking the game so seriously. Slowly creeping out of your hole, you made your way to the ledge, aiming your weapon carefully. Steadying your breathing you squeezed the trigger of the gun, pulling it when your target was in sight.

“What the hell? Who shot me?!” Nat yelled into the earpiece, you standing up to your full height and looking over the ledge.

“Gotta think faster than that Red.” Her eyes came up to yours, narrowing into slits as you blew her a kiss. Panic quickly set into your veins as she began making her way to the upper level, quickly scaling up one of the half walls and touching down maybe five feet in front of you.

“Fast enough for you L/N?”

Letting out a nervous chuckle you turned around. “You’ve got to be shitting me.” Pepper and Thor grinned at your fallen face, Pepper not wasting time and shooting you.

“Nice shot Missus Stark.”

“Thanks Lightning bolt.” You flipped them the middle finger, stomping off to find another hiding spot before your vest signaled to the others you were fair game again. The carnage continued on for another fifteen minutes, everyone getting really into the trash talk.

“Hey where’s Stark at?” Sam asked, you realizing you hadn’t heard from your captain in a while. “Tonnnnyy…oh Tooonnnyyy…Come out come out wherever you are…” Sam sung quietly, jumping into dark spots of the arena in search of him.

“Please never sing again Wilson. My ears are bleeding here.” Came Stark’s reply, you laughing as Sam’s voice cracked in annoyance.

“And what the hell are you doing?” You jumped at Sam’s bark, looking around to see if you could find the two of them.

“Obviously I’m busy. Go get your own hiding space.”

“That’s CHEATING! YOU’RE CHEATING!” The two teams ceased in an instant, all of you looking to the far left side of the room, Sam with his hands on his hips in rage.

“Who’s cheating?” Thor inquired, sidling up to you while Steve called for a time out.

“Seems like mister billionaire couldn’t stop himself from upgrading his laser.” Sam accused, Tony looking up at everyone while the lights came up. You could see the laser had been partially disassembled, and the genius had very much been tinkering with it.

“Come on, seriously? It was a few simple rules and you couldn’t follow one? You’re supposed to be Captain!” Clint snapped into the comms link, you looking up to see him wipe his face with his hands. Everyone on your team were feeling extremely pissed off at the current situation.

“I say we throw him out of the game.” Bruce suggested, Sam and Nat nodding in approval.

“What?! No come on guys, I just feel naked without my suit!”Came the billionaire’s half-assed plea, Steve having none of it.

“Tony rules are rules. You’re out pal.” You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of you as Bruce and Steve hoisted the sitting Stark to his feet, Tony whining the whole way out of the arena. You shook your head, looking to the remaining members of your team.

“Well I’m not surprised, but who’s going to be Captain now?” Bucky questioned into the earpiece, Clint looking over at him with a shrug.

“I volunteer as tribute!” You raised your hand, Sam bursting into laughter while Nat shook her head.

“This isn’t hunger games Y/N. And you don’t need a bigger ego.” You pouted openly at Nat and your other so called “Friends”. Sam only nodded between laughs.

“She’s right Y/N. Not to mention the fact that you can’t seem to hit the broad side of a barn.”

“Hey now guys, let’s not be rude it was Y/N’s idea.” You beamed at Steve as he walked back towards the group, the music beginning to grow louder again. “You can be Captain Y/N. It’s not like you’re going to win anyway.” Amusement danced in his eyes while your face fell slack. “Sorry sweetheart. No hard feelings?”

“You’re going to eat those words Rogers, and I’ll be holding the fork when you do.” You growled, anger setting your adrenaline on fire as he gave you a playful wink.

“Promise?”

“Would you two please quit with the foreplay and get back to the game? Geesh. Save it for the bedroom.” Sam pushed you aside, heading back into the fray as the sounds of lasers and yelling became the background vocals to the room shaking music. You smirked at the tall blonde as the room began to darken, you using it to your advantage and running your hand up his left arm. You could hear him take in a sharp breath, closing his eyes while you lightly traced his muscles with your fingertips. You let your hand cruise up to his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze before letting it graze along his back muscles, watching them tense under your touch.

“May the odds be ever in your favor, Captain.” You whispered hotly at him, rushing to duck into a small tunnel when he whipped around to grab at you. Covering your mouth you went back into stealth mode, managing to score a couple times by shooting Sam and Thor without them figuring out where you were. It wasn’t that you were a terrible shot, you just hated shooting without concentrating. You couldn’t fire on a whim, not that there was anything wrong with that. Just made laser tag very difficult.

“On your six L/N.” Your head snapped as Tony’s voice rang into the comms link, you narrowly avoiding a shot from Pepper and retaliating with a shot of your own, nailing her in the shoulder. “Sorry honey. I love you.” The female Stark only responded by flipping off the nearest camera, plunging back into the darkness.

“No interference Stark.” You squinted to see Nat’s figure coming into view, chuckling at how seriously she was taking this. “Time for some payback Y/N.” You didn’t have time to react as the redhead knocked your gun out of your hand, pulling up her own to take a shot at you. “Any last words?”

Smirking you brought your chin up to glare at her defiantly, looking above you. “Just one. Barton.” Moving within an instant you moved her gun out of the way in time for Clint to shoot her from the top part of the arena. Giving him an air high-five you ran the opposite direction, laughing the whole way. You could hear Nat screaming obscenities to Clint without using her earpiece. I owe you one Barton.

~~~Sometime later~~~

“Alright guys, your scores are nearly tied, you can still pull this win out Y/N. Just focus. And don’t get shot.” You rolled your eyes as Tony continued his commentary, the game getting to you and wearing you down. You couldn’t help but feel like your head was in a fog for some reason, your movements becoming slower. Trying to shake it off, you continued to hide in your safe space, listening to the others still battling it out.

“You gonna come out of your ivory tower up there Barnes and face me like a man or are you too chicken shit?” Your pulse began to pick up at the sound of Steve’s gravelly taunt on your comms link, you bringing a hand up to fan yourself. Jesus this man was going to be the death of you. Was it hot in here or was it just your gorgeous boyfriend? His “take charge” tone always did wonderful things for you physically, but you were honest to god glad this wasn’t directed your way. You’d surely turn into a puddle if it had been.

“Rogers you are only saying that to impress Y/N. We both know I’d kick your ass six ways from Sunday.” Bucky scoffed, “But if you insist on embarrassing your girl, then I will be happy to oblige.” Noticing movement above you, silently you began to scope out the best viewing point for the show that was about to go down.

“I’m calling a personal truce, just so I can watch this.” Sam said, placing his laser gun to his side, everyone else of both teams following suit. That didn’t include you. You kept to the right, staying hidden and watching from afar. Steve and Bucky met in the middle of the ground floor, only a few barrels and a half wall separating them. Steve had this look in his eyes that made you go a little weak in the knees. He looked so determined, jaw tight to match Bucky’s calculating stare. That’s the guy you were dating. And you couldn’t root for him right now.

“Let’s dance Stevie.” Bucky called before rushing forward, diving over a barrel and taking a well aim shot at Rogers. The blonde ducked to dodge the shot, and did so, but barely. He took to running to take cover behind the half wall, the one that was currently in front of where you were crouching. You took this moment to admire his amazing backside, thanking the big guy upstairs that for the last month you got to go home to that fine specimen. God bless America’s Ass.

“What’s the time left Tony?” You whispered into your ear piece, trying not to reveal your prime location of perverted real estate.

“Fifteen seconds. Both of your teams are tied. Someone needs to shoot someone already.” Tony complained, tired of watching the two men dodge shots and miss their own.

“No problem.” Was all you said, stepping out of the shadows and aiming your weapon carefully. Taking no time you pulled the trigger, nailing Sam, Nat, and Thor within seconds. Pepper was out of your range so you settled on your beloved blonde boyfriend, watching as he turned around as the clock counted down.

“Sorry sweetheart. No hard feelings?” Pulling the trigger you watched as he failed to move in time and the beam of green light hit him in the chest. The alarm sounding the end of the game was muted to you from your heart thumping in your ears. Not sparing Steve a second glance you walked confidently out of the arena, your team cheering for you. Tony clapped you into a one armed hug when you reached the main lobby, already having helped himself to some pizza and beer.

“That was incredible Y/N! That’s how you play laser tag! I’m sorry I doubted you.” Bucky congratulated you, your other teammates chanting your name. Taking a bow you laughed as a very sad Steve entered your line of sight, pouting and holding his chest like he had actually been shot.

“Come on it’s just a game sweetheart. I would never actually shoot you.” You cooed, but it came out a bit raspy.

“You alright Y/N?” His demeanor changed at an instant, taking in your slightly labored breathing with a worried glance.

“I’m…I’m fine Steve.” You coughed out. “Just different air than in the arena.”

“Don’t be getting sick on me.” He chided, you waving him off and going to load up a paper plate with breadsticks and stuffed crust pizza.

~~~Two Days Later~~~

“Gentlemen, seriously. I’m fine.” You got out in between sneezes, looking around your bed to find Earth’s Mightiest Heroes staring at you. “Doc says it’s just the flu. It’ll be over in a few days.”

“Then we shall help you recover!” Thor shouted, you wincing as the god of thunder took off out of Steve’s room. You had stayed over after your victory, waking up at two a.m with a fever and the shakes. Of course your boyfriend was nothing short of amazing, bringing Doctor Hooper to check on you. He got you whatever you needed after Hooper diagnosed you. Word had spread quickly that you had fallen ill and now you had to deal with these men all over again.

“Do you need your pillows fluffed?” Bucky asked, Sam running into the room like his ass was on fire.

“Does your grams chicken noodle soup recipe say two carrots?” You held up a weak two fingers.

“I picked you up the cherry medicine, I hope it tastes better than the foul purple liquid did.” Thor returned, handing you the small shot glass of medicine which you downed instantly.

“I brought fresh, cold water.” Tony chimed in, placing the bottles on the table. Your heart swelled with appreciation as Steve stood at your side, smiling down at you. You sighed as his hand brushed through your hair lightly.

“I’m not leaving you. I promise Y/N.” His voice was soft, filled with tenderness as you recalled saying those same words to the super soldier when he was sick.

“Thanks Steve. I don’t deserve you. Any of you.” You corrected yourself, the men around you smiling before breaking apart to help make you more comfortable.

“Just don’t ask us to make sure you don’t die in the shower Y/N. That’s officially Roger’s job.” Sam chuckled, walking back out of the room to check on the soup.

“Damn right it is.” Steve whispered, dropping down to kiss your forehead while you started to drift off. There were perks to being sick after all.

The End

Tag list: @kaytizzle @cuffski @giggleberts

#steve rogers x reader #marvel #fanfic #captain america #avengers

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