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rommahh · 3 years

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I Carry Your Heart

Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 4k

{Ahhhh ok so this is my first work like ever. There will definitely be a second part because ive got more to say and it needs a second part. I hope whoever sees and reads this imagine enjoys it. I appreciate comments, likes, reblogs, ideas on what could go into the story, and any form of help and redirection as to how i should write things. Much love, R.}.

Part two

All Y/N wanted tonight was to hang out with her boyfriend, eat a mass amount of junk food, and watch a marvel movie or two. That was all she wanted and that was all she asked of her boyfriend. Instead of any of that happening, she found herself sitting on the nasty kitchen island of her boyfriend's frat at a party that she was trying to avoid going to.

This party was supposedly ‘the party of the year.’ The last rager before finals and then christmas break. Y/N had spent the whole week studying and finishing up end of semester projects hence the want for a chill night. When Harry came to her saying his frat was throwing a party tonight and that he just HAD to be here, Y/N didn't feel like she had a choice but to let him go. She came because she thought this would be the only time she would be able to have some time with Harry after a long week of barely seeing each other. With two vastly different majors, the couple wasnt able to find a lot of time in the middle of school work to make time for just the two of them. Obviously her hopes of quality time with her man were futile because here she was sitting by herself in the kitchen of the frat while Harry drank and got high with his friends in other parts of the house.

Of course she was disappointed. She felt a knot in her throat and a weight on her chest just sitting there in that kitchen. Her white claw was warm now- not that it was any cold when she opened it. She was starting to form a small headache from the too loud music and the ache in her heart was growing.

She stood from the countertop on the search for her boyfriend, hoping he wasn't too far gone from sober. Wiping the back of her jeans from anything that was left on the island, she began walking around the house. She doesn't remember the last time the two of them spent time together by themselves. Of course they occasionally ate dinner together in the dining hall but they were normally surrounded by friends. Y/N wanted to be alone with her boyfriend to talk and bask in his presence.

After pushing through groups of partying humans, she found Harry and at least ten other people sitting around playing some sort of drinking game.

“Y/N! Where have you been?” Luca, one of Harry's frat brothers yelled out to her from the circle. Luca was cool, he was one of the only tolerable boys in this frat aside from Harry. Hearing his girlfriend's name, Harry turned around from where he sat on the ground and reached out for his girlfriend to sit beside him. Much to Y/N’s dismay, Harry was wasted. His eyes were half mass and his words bumped and slurred together. “We are playing truth or dare, wanna play?” Luca asked.

“I don't wanna play but Ill sit and watch.” Sitting next to her boyfriend, she grabbed one of his hands holding it in her lap. She was annoyed at him but it did her no good to show it when he was this drunk.

This game of truth or dare was childish. Dares of licking people's shoes and taking multiple shots had been done and truths about money and relationships were being spilled among the group. It had finally become Harry’s turn to do something, making Y/N tense.

“Ok Harry, I dare you to…” One drunk frat boy started looking around the room trying to come up with something clever. His eyes landed on a pretty girl in the room, Yara, a stuck up girl who for sure got her way no matter what. “I dare you to kiss the hottest girl in the room- obviously not your girlfriend because that defeats the purpose.” The frat boy smirked knowing what his intentions were. Everyone in the group giggles and gasped shocked by the dare but ready to see what was going to go down. Y/N’s brows furrowed as she became angry with the stupid dare.

The ache in her chest seemed to tip over the edge when she felt her boyfriend in the room move to stand up. She grabbed at the bottom of his shirt as a way of stopping him. Harry halted his movements to look down at his girlfriend. He giggled a little.

“You’re not actually going to do this right?” She asked Harry with wide eyes of shock. Harry laughed at her like she made a joke, making her heart hurt even more.”Harry I do not want you to do this just take the shot and lose the dare.” Her tone held warning.

“Don't be silly of course I'm going to. It's just a dare, nothing serious. Don't be so clingy.” He stood walking over to Yara and planted a wet kiss on her mouth. Yara gripped Harry’s shirt and kissed him harder. The kiss went on for a few more seconds, the room absolutely silent out of shock. Harry stepped back from Yara slightly sobering up from his actions. Yara smirked at Y/N, hand gliding down the front of Harry's shirt.

Y/N stood from the seat she was in and scoffed. Scoffed because she should've known Harry would do something like this. Scoffed because it hurt to see her boyfriend do something so careless without any regard for his girl's feelings. She pulled herself together, feeling her throat tighten once again. She was quick to leave the room and down the hall of the frat.

Harry's clumsy steps could be heard from behind her as he mumbled her name. Or at least he tried to. He was still so out of it, his words not making much sense. Y/N was crying now, the strength that she had slowly dissolving as she walked further away from her boyfriend.

“Y/N wait. P-please wait. I cant-” Harry stumbled over his legs behind her falling into the grass of the front yard. The girl couldn't help but turn around looking at her stupid boyfriend. She was choking on sobs now. She wasn't crying over a measly little kiss but over an extreme amount of burnout from school and exhaustion from simply existing. She was crying because her boyfriend ignored her boundaries, crushing and erasing the boundaries she had set in their relationship. Harry tried reaching for her once she had stopped walking. His hand clasped around her wrist, he laid his head down on her shoulder. He hated seeing her cry even if he was too drunk to see why.

“Baby don't leave, Im-Im Sorry.” He hiccuped and burped due to the alcohol. Y/N felt her rage build. Shoving Harry off of her, she crossed her arms across her chest as a way to shield herself from Harry physically. He was hurt by her distance and the wall she put up around her.

“You're an idiot Harry. An idiot!” her sobs grew louder, some stray party goers watching in amusement- some even snapchatting it for shits and giggles. “I didnt want you to kiss her and you did. What provoked you to think that was ok? All I wanted was for us to hang out tonight and just be us and you did this!” She was yelling now. Her hurt is beyond her now. Anger and rage simmered throughout her body making her head dizzy and her fingers curl within themselves. She didnt like being angry. It wasn't an emotion she liked acting on, it felt impersonal.

“Baby I don't under-” Before Harry could finish his sentence he was barfing at his feet. Y/N stepped back disgusted with her boyfriend. She couldn't even feel remorseful because of how angry she was. Luca, the frat brother from earlier, caught up with Harry and his girl only to find Harry doubled over heaving. Luca wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders.

“I'm sorry Luca but I can't do this tonight. Can you please make sure he gets some water and goes to bed. I-I can't do it tonight, I wish I could but I can't.” Y/N didn't want to leave her boyfriend in this state but she didn't deserve this. She wasn't going to care for her drunk boyfriend when all she wanted to do was care for herself. Selfishly, she enjoyed seeing him this way because of the anger he caused her.

Luca shook his head in understandment. “Of course, I'm really sorry for tonight. He's going to seriously regret this in the morning, especially since it will be circulating all over snapchat in the morning.” Luca waved to Y/N then proceeded to pull Harry into the house. Harry called out for Y/N not wanting to be away from her but Luca pulled him harder.

Harry woke up the next morning feeling like the bottom of a dumpster. He wasn't shocked by that. He knew he got trashed last night, he had planned to. He, just like Y/N, spent all week studying and completing projects while also fulfilling certain responsibilities for his frat. He wanted one night to be a normal teen. So he drank and drank and drank and maybe even smoked some weed. As he tried to recall last night's events he came up with nothing. He didn't understand why Y/N wasn't here with him like she normally would after a party on the weekend. They were normally always together during the weekend. A bad feeling loomed over him. He could tell something wasn't right but decided to put his feelings to the side.

He saw a bottle of water beside his bed making him think she was probably here and left early. Chugging the water he started to go through his socials to see if anyone had posted about the party. He had multiple tagged pics and videos in his notifications from snapchat. Way more than he normally would.

The first video he saw was a video of him and Y/N standing in the front yard of the frat house. Turning the volume all the way up he could hear Y/N yelling, it shocked him. She doesn't normally raise her voice, especially not at him. The angle changed showing her face which was red with anger, eyes filled with unshed tears. He could hear her yelling about him kissing someone else. He felt his heart stop. He had kissed someone else? On the next snap was a picture of him keeled over vomiting on his shoes with the caption saying, ‘are yall seeing this shit?’ Harry was embarrassed but he was more concerned than anything.

His head was hurting but it didn't stop him from rolling out of bed, washing up, and putting on a fresh set of clothes. He checked his phone hoping Y/N had messaged him but nothing was there. He walked into the kitchen only to see luca sitting at the counter eating cereal.

“Hey Harry….” Luca said warily. Luca pushed the cereal around his bowl feeling the tension begin to rise in the room. He felt horrible about his friends.

“Luca...what's up?” Harry was confused by Lucas' wariness.

“So do you remember anything about last night?” Luca asked, setting his cereal down in the sink behind him. Harry started playing with the frayed edges of a bracelet Y/N made for him. It had little beads with her name on it. They made them together at an event on campus.

“I don't, I only saw the videos of Y/N screaming at me. I think I fucked up but I- I don't know what happened.” Harry's cheek flushed with even more embarrassment. Luca awkwardly chuckled scratching the back of his neck.

“You got dared to kiss the hottest girl in the room and um actually did it in front of Y/N...even though she didn't want you to. Which led you guys outside and yeah you know the rest...Im sorry dude, I wish I had stopped you.”

“Who- who did I kiss?” Harrys stomach lurched when he heard Yara’s name come out of Lucas' name. Y/N didn't like Yara and it was understandable. Yara has been pining after Harry since their first year of college. Harry couldn't breathe. He felt disgusted with himself. He could only imagine how Y/N was feeling.

Y/N woke up the same morning, eyes puffy and crusty from tears and head hurting. She probably cried herself into dehydration. She was lucky enough to have no roommate because she wouldn't have wanted someone else to see her breakdown. She still couldn't believe last night went down the way it went down. She couldn't tell if she was just being overdramatic or if her emotions were in the right place. She didn't want to be mad at Harry. He was everything to her, she had an odd connection to him. Meeting him during their freshman welcome week they quickly became best friends with a growing romantic connection in the mix. They started dating before Christmas break. They had grown close so fast that he even came home with her to meet her family for the first few days of break. Even though they were in their junior year of college, Y/N could see them beyond college. She's imagined them getting married, travelling, sharing a home. She saw the whole future with him. She had her doubts though. He was immature just like every other boy in college. He was dumb with his actions and tended to only do things if they benefited him. He had a lot of growing to do as a person, so did she but she wanted to grow with him.

She heard a knock on her door hesitating to answer it because one, it could be Harry, and two, she looked like a wreck. Answering anyways, she was met with a very sorry looking Harry holding a small coffee and bagel from their cafe.

“Hi baby…” He sheepishly said holding out the items. She silently let him through the door not once looking him in the eye. He stepped into her room, setting her treats on her desk. He could see that her bed was messy meaning she recently woke up. Y/N never went about her day without making her bed. He turned back to her and finally their eyes met. He took in all of her facial features, from her puffy eyes, to her downturned lips that looked chapped, to her flushed cheeks that longed to be held for warmth. He hated to see her like this, the last time he saw her so upset was when her parents moved out of her childhood home. It took alot to make Y/N this upset. She was normally really headstrong and vigilant. She knew how to ease her way out of problematic situations and could talk her way through anything.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Y/N holding her hand up in front of his face. “Don't talk. I'm really hurt Harry, so if your plan was to come over here and apologize over bagels- think again.” She snapped, backing up to put space between the two of them. She sat down on her bed while Harry pulled the desk chair out and sat down. He much preferred to be on the bed with her holding her tight but he didn't want to overstep boundaries.

“Love, I don't know where to begin. I'm really sorry for what happened last night. I was really drunk and obviously wasn't in the right headspace.” Harry reached out and touched the tips of her fingers with his. She wanted to move but it felt good to be touched by Harry.

“I told you that a measly little apology won't do Harry. I didn't want you to kiss Yara and you did anyway. You know how Yara feels about you and you just let it happen!” She pulled her hand away remembering the prior night's events. Harry felt himself getting angry too. He felt like he needed to defend himself- even though it would be a very bad idea.

“I think you're being over dramatic.” Wrong move Harry. “It wasn't like I was making out with her!”

“You're joking right?” She scoffed and scooted further up her bed to create more distance. “Harry it's the simple fact that you did something that made me uncomfortable that shouldn't have even happened. I see myself getting married to you and it makes me worry that right now in our relationship you can't respect my boundaries!” She yelled. Harry’s eyes widened as he laughed sarcastically.

“Married? What the fuck are you on about? I'm a junior in college. In what world would it make sense for me to be prepping a relationship for marriage? Once again I think you're being over dramatic.” Her eyes watered hearing Harry's statement.

“I- I guess I'm the only one in this relationship thinking about the future? I thought we were on the same page. I'm not planning our marriage now, obviously. I'm thinking about how elements of our relationship now could play out in the future when we do want to get married. You cheated on me last night. I went to a party you begged ME to go to only to be there for you. I wanted to be here cuddling with you, pigging out on fast food but I was at a party with you and got cheated on!” Her volume rises once again, making Harry shove his chair from underneath him when he stands up.

“You're doing too much right now. I'm not planning a future right now because I don't want this future! I want to be myself without thinking about how to appease my girlfriend. I invited you to the party so you could lighten the fuck up. I love you, I do, but I'm not thinking of marriage and futures. I'm thinking about my life right now and having fun.” Harry snapped right back at her. Her chin wobbled. Obviously her and Harry were on different pages. It hurt so much to hear him say that he didn't want a future with her. Harry didn't mean it though.

“Ok, well I guess that's my fault for assuming we were thinking along the same lines. Um, I don't want to hold you back from being yourself so with that being said, you are a free man Harry.” She pushed herself up from her bed walking to the door ready to escort Harry out.

“Huh? Love, what?” Harry was confused on how they got to this point. Just a few days ago they were in love, meeting in the library to share a lunch and exchanging sweet words determined by their love.

“Listen I have a day full of exams tomorrow so if you could just leave that would be best. You don't really want this so I'm letting you go, Harry.” She had tears rolling down her face, falling from her eyes down to her chin where they fell to the ground in droplets. Harry’s eyes welled up watching his love cry before him.

“I don't-”

“Harry, leave, please.” She opened the door making room for him to go through. He walked through the door turning to look at her. She turned her face away from him whispering a small goodbye before shutting the door. Harry was left in the silent hallway, so silent he could hear his thoughts and the tears hitting the tile floor beneath him. He thinks he stood there for at least thirty more minutes before accepting what had happened and walking away.

Leaving Y/N in her room sobbing like she had never done before. Her tears coated her face and she thought her head could explode right then and there. She didn't want to accept what had happened but she had priorities. She composed herself enough to start studying for her exams.

The week rolled by quickly, Monday meeting Friday in a flash. Exams were done and Christmas break was on the horizon. Students were piling off of campus in a hurry ready to get home to their loved ones. People were outside by cars loading up their winter necessaries and saying their goodbyes to their close friends.

Harry cried everyday this week. He wasn't normally a crier. He hated crying, he hated the feeling of crying and the headache that came from it. He cried because he realized how wrong he was. He missed Y/N. He missed finals week dinner together where they tried to get off campus at least once and be alone for a moment. He missed watching her relax while eating food that wasn't from their school's cafeteria. He would pay for their meal just so she could have one less thing to worry about. They would normally get frozen yogurt right after too, Y/N getting as many toppings as she wanted because Harry would be the one paying. He missed her tight after exam hugs. She would squeeze his shoulders tight, smiling into his neck, telling him how proud she was of him. She would bring him tea in the morning when they met for breakfast. Sometimes they would spend the night in one or the others room so they could have time together to destress and just talk.

Y/N wasn't doing any better. She normally went into exam week feeling confident. She studied too hard not to. But this week she felt like shit. Her heart hurt and she kept thinking about the fight. She feels like she overreacted but hearing Harry talk about their lack of a future hurt nonetheless. She really assumed that they did have a future that included marriage and a life together. She didn't understand where his sudden lack of commitment came from. She regretted dumping him but at the same time she wished he did more to get them back together but he was silent. He hasn't contacted her at all and avoided all of their spots on campus all together.

She stood by her car prepping for her six hours car ride back home. Packing away her clothes and some essentials in the trunk of her car, she heard light footsteps behind her. Closing her trunk she turned to see Harry standing with his hands in his pockets.

“Hi.” He said. She looked at him, putting her own hands in her pockets. It was cold outside, the nippy air hinting at a possibility of snow.

“Hi Harry.” They shared a moment of silence together. Just staring at each other. It felt good to be near each other again. They felt like they could breathe again.

“I had to see you before you left. I know the break is only a month but I didn't want to leave without seeing you.” He replied quietly. She made him feel so shy. Her beauty always made him awestruck. Even in a hoodie with their college's logo and some large sweatpants and some fuzzy crocs, she was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“I don't know what to say harry.”

“It's ok. I don't deserve anything from you after what I said. I just wanted to apologize and wish you a good break before you left. I also wanted to give you this.” He pulled a small box and envelope out of the front pocket of his backpack. “I know we agreed on no presents but I think thats a dumb rule and I love you too much to not get you something.” She smiled at his words, taking the gift from his hands.

“Thank you Harry, it means a lot to me. So what are your plans for a break?” She asked him, the tension that was in the air slowly dissipating.

“I couldn't get a flight home until next wednesday so i'll stay here on campus until then.” He shrugged.

“Oh ok. Well tell Anne I said hi. I have to go Harry but I'll see you after the break, ok?” She didn't want to leave him but she didn't want to drive through the dark.

“Ok, love. Drive safe. I lov- I mean have a good break.” Her chest tightened at his hesitation. She wants to hear him say the words but she knows he won't.

“Have a good break Harry.” She whispered. Before getting in her car she stood on her toes placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Rubbing her thumb across his cheek and turning away and into her car.

She drove away knowing that her heart was left in that parking lot in the hands of someone she loves way too much.

Harry stood in the parking lot watching his heart drive away for winter wanting nothing more than to be with her.

Part two

#harry styles x reader #frat!harry #i carry your heart #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #college!harry #part 2 coming soon #harry styles smut #fratrry #boyfriend!harry

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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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sickficsies-and-whumpsies · 3 years

Note

hi, may i ask you sick semi eita fic? he went amusement park with his team despite feeling a little bit unwell. Later he feels dizzy & nauseous, his team then take him to doctor/dorm. thank you 🥰

Oui oui, mon amie!!

TW: dizziness & nausea, vomiting, hospitals, brief mentions of IVs.

1.4k words, Gen.

ーーー

“Oh, the queue for that one isn’t too long!! Let’s go, guys!!”

Semi sighs. While Tendou’s volume doesn’t usually bother him, right now, stuck in the middle of Yagiyama Benyland, surrounded by screaming people and running children, he wishes his friend could turn it down a notch already.

The fabric around his neck feels constricting, suffocating. Semi tugs at the collar of his shirt lightly, clearing his throat silently as he trails behind the rest of the team.

He massages his stomach under the grey hoodie, feeling it gurgle under his touch. It was only two days ago when the pinch-server’s stomach first sent a painful, sudden jolt of white-hot pain throughout his body, making him shudder and gag, taken aback. But since his appendix has long been removed, Semi’s confident that it’s probably just a matter of too much coffee and too little water in his guts. It’s been a stressful week, after all. Nothing he can’t fix. It still hurts, though.

“Are you sure we’re tall enough for that ride?” Goshiki jokes, and everyone laughs, Tendou wrapping a lanky arm around the first-year and ruffling his head with the other hand. More laughter echoes among the group.

Semi shudders, chills running down his spine, stomach twisting. He struggles to even only force out a tiny smile.

ー

The safety belts press against his stomach and shoulders uncomfortably, and Semi doesn’t think he will make it. Next to him, Ushijima sits quietly, waiting for the ride to start. He briefly glances over, humming.

“Are you scared, Semi?”

There’s no malice in his voice, no curiosity either. It’s something along the lines of… Concern? Annoyance? Both?

“M’fine.” Semi gulps, “Just excited.”

“It’s okay to be scared.”

“M’not.”

“Alright. But if you were, it’d be okay.”

“Ushijiー!!” he gets cut off, abruptly, as the thing finally starts to move.

The higher it goes, the more Semi knows he’s not going to make it. There’s no doubt about it. He quickly tries to recall if there’s some sort of trashcan near the exit but he realises that he hasn’t seen any.

His complexion bleaches rapidly. The thing is, Semi isn’t scared of roller coasters, he quite enjoys them, to be fair. Right now, the thing he fears the most is puking all over himself or worse, over the team’s captain.

And he knows it’s going to happen.

The people in the front row start screaming, Semi only a few rows back. It’s only a matter of seconds before he feels himself falling, and the world tunes out.

ー

He doesn’t actually pass out, really. Instead, once the operators remove his safety belts and wish him and his friends a fun day, he lets his shaky legs guide him down the metal staircase, eyes glazed over, blind. He’s not quite sure he’s moving, either. And he looks green.

Semi doesn’t even register that Ushijima’s strong hand is wrapped around his right upper arm, the left in the care of Tendou himself, eerily quiet. They set him down on the first empty bench they find, the team quiet behind the three.

It’s Reon to crouch in front of the ill teen, a firm hand squeezing his knee encouragingly. “Semi? Dude, hey.”

“...up…” he murmurs, seemingly catatonic, staring somewhere behind the team that has gathered in front of him, eyes filled to the brim with apprehension.

The setter swallows, a thin trail of saliva making its way down the corner of his chapped lips and down his twitching chin. He opens his mouth to speak, to say something, but nothing comes out, and soon enough he ducks his head between his knees and retches onto the pavement without a second warning.

His teammates gasp, horrified and worried, but Reon is quick to avoid the onslaught and immediately usher the others away, leaving Tendou and Ushijima behind. The taller guy rubs at his back firmly, while the other puts a palm flat on Semi’s forehead, preventing him from giving himself a whiplash.

His skin feels cold and clammy, ashen. Tendou hisses.

Not long passes before Semi throws up again, more and more bile splashing between his feet, little droplets staining his shoes and jeans. He retches and gags, helpless, eyes stinging painfully, about to pop out of his skull.

Reon jogs back a minute later, stopping a couple of meters away to give Semi some breathing room. “Should we call an ambulance? He looks like death warmed over...”

Ushijima shakes his head. “We should try and make him drink something, first.”

“I don’t think he’s up to it, Toshi.” Tendou reasons, “Semi-Semi, hey, you need to take a breath, my man.” he adds, patting the boy’s shoulder while Ushijima keeps massaging circles on his back.

But Semi doesn’t. He can’t. His stomach twists and knots painfully, and he doubles over, arms wrapped protectively around his abdomen as he hiccup and dry-heaves weakly.

“Does your stomach hurt?” Reon asks, careful, calm as ever, “Do you need an ambulance?”

“Yeah, we should call ‘em.” Tendou says, “It’s not normal to feel this sick after riding a roller coaster as bland as that one, andー”

“He was feeling ill before the ride, too. I didn’t think it was this bad, though. I apologize, Semi.” Ushijima interjects. “I think the ride was simply the last straw.”

The three stay quiet for a moment, Semi’s desperate struggles and pants and hiccups drowning out every other noise. And finally, blissfully, about ten minutes after sitting down, his jagged breaths come to a halt, and he slumps to the side, crashing into Tendou.

“Semi-Semi...? Oh shit. Is he dead? Semi-Semi?” Tendou gasps, “Guys, a little help?”

The ill teen is quick to blink his eyes open, glassy and dull, spent. “H’rts.”

“What hurts?”

“S-stomach. Head.”

Reon nods, serious. He then takes his phone out and quickly types something, before glancing at Ushijima and Tendou, who are both massaging Semi’s trembling back, subconsciously.

“Okay, the closest bus stop is about five minutes away on foot from here, and then it takes about ten minutes to get to Sendai Red Cross Hospital by bus, and another minute on foot after that. What do you guys say?” Reon asks.

Tendou is fast to nod, “Let’s go, we might catch the first bus available if we hurry.”

“I’ll carry him.” Ushijima adds.

Semi then struggles, shaking his headー aggravating his nausea and gagging silently. “Th-the others, and y-you, th-the pa-park and- and the tickets andー”

“Woh, woh, slow down, Semi-Semi!! It’s fine, we’ve been here for hours already anyway, and the entrance fees aren’t that expensive. No worries, okay? Let us worry about the rest.” Tendou says, cheerful, “We’ll text the others to let them know we’re leaving. We can always reschedule for another time, alright?”

“Done.” Reon smiles, waving his phone, ‘Shiratorizawa Volleyball Club’ chat open and rapidly flooding with texts from everyone. “Let’s go.”

ー

Luckily, and unsurprisingly, the bus is perfectly on time, and Semi doesn’t even have the time to register that he’s an eighteen year-old being offered a piggy-back ride from another eighteen year-old. He couldn’t care less. Instead, once he’s on the bus, he drifts, drained.

ー

“Anyone here for Semi Eita?”

Tendou, Reon and Ushijima are quick to reach the doctor, wide-eyed. “How is he!?”

She smiles, “Your friend will be okay, nothing to worry about. He was terribly dehydrated and overall exhausted, courtesy of the raging viral gastroenteritis he has. The nurses gave him an IV to pump some fluids into his system, and once it’s done, I’m going to prescribe him some probiotics to help with the infection and he’ll be free to leave.”

“Can we see him?” Tendou frets, “Is there anything else we should do? Are you sure he’s okay?”

The doctor nods, her expression firm and reassuring. “Viral infections are extremely common, we treat thousands of similar cases each day. I promise you, Semi-san will be okay. And yes, you may see him, of course. Come with me, please.”

The three follow the kind doctor quietly as she leads them to Semi’s bed, in the ER, the thin curtains between his and other patients’ beds being his only source of privacy.

Upon seeing them, Semi sits up, grinning sheepishly, cheeks tinted in red. “Hey there.” he grins.

His friends chuckle, rapidly making their way toward his bed, ruffling his hair and pushing him around with calculated motions.

He’ll be fine.

ーーー

I got carried away and started researching how to get to the closest hospital from Yagiyama Benyland, a real amusement park in Miyagi. And yeah, the Red Cross Hospital’s real, too, and the bus as well. I had so much fun researching this stuff. So yeah, I hope you liked it, let me know!!

Also, anon, if you have an AO3 tell me so that I can gift this fic to you when I post it there in a few days.

September 2, 2021

#pardon the french- literally. just wanted to say oui oui mon amie #my fic #haikyuu!! sickfic #sickfic #haikyuu!!#haikyuu sickfic #semi eita #tendou satori #ushijima wakatoshi #oohira reon #dizziness & nausea #vomiting #brief mentions of IVs #hospitals #shiratorizawa

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craziest-in-the-guild · 3 years

Text

Point Rain

Chapter 3 of the Long Night series

Word Count: 5251

C/W: 18+ Description of severe injuries; medical treatments. Sex, unprotected p in v, oral sex (m and f giving/receiving), cream pie. Alcohol use.

A/N: Thank you all for reading this far! This one picks up on the action, both on the battlefield and behind closed doors. I did use vod in a way that I'm not quite sure is correct, feel free to leave notes on that for me to reference in the future. Hope everyone enjoys it!

_______________________________________________________

The assault on Geonosis was being initiated to regain control of the planet and destroy the new droid factory. Generals Skywalker, Mundi, and Kenobi were leading a three pronged attack in hopes that the factory could easily be taken.

Our forces were under fire as soon as we launched. The noise from the laser blasts, other ships, and our own gunship was excruciatingly loud. I put a hand to my helmet in discomfort.

“Here, let me help you adjust the sound filtering,” came the modulated voice beside me. Rex took my helmet, adjusted something and handed it back.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes, much, now I can hear myself think,” I laughed nervously. The sound filtering had dampened the blasts and roar of the gunship.

The gunship beside us was hit several times by cannon fire and exploded, rocking our ship. I could feel my heart rate speeding up and I tightened my hold on the grab bar above.

Our ship was the next to be struck by a blast, causing it to lurch sideways. I lost my balance and fell into Rex. I quickly returned to a standing position and he placed one arm around my waist to help me brace. I could see smoke and flames streaming past the side door. The pilot yelled over the comm for everyone to brace themselves; we were going down.

The ship picked up speed as we hurled towards the ground. We struck hard, enough to knock the breath out of me. Once the burning hunk of metal came to a stop, I scanned quickly to see if everyone was ok. No one was down and we all evacuated.

“Are you good, Doc?” Rex yelled over the noise.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little shaken!” I yelled back, ducking as laser blasts flew overhead.

“Draw your blaster and stay with Fives, Jesse, and Tup, I’m going with the General and Commander.”

“MEDIC! Man down!” cracked across the comms. That didn’t take long.

“What’s your location?” Jesse asked.

The injured clone was close, so we diverted to his location. His vod had dragged him behind a rock outcropping for cover. He had been hit with three blaster bolts to his left arm.

“I can’t move my arm,” he said frantically.

There was little bleeding from the wounds. I removed his armor and cut the sleeve of his blacks to get a better look. His radial pulse was strong, a good indication that no major circulation had been disrupted. I wrapped the injuries with bacta impregnated dressings.

“Clankers incoming!” Jesse yelled. Tup pushed me further behind the rock outcropping just in time to dodge a blaster bolt that ripped through the rock where we had been standing.

I drew my blaster and we both peeked around the edge of the rock. I had a clear shot at a few droids, so I took it, taking out three of them. Tup congratulated me.

Overhead, a severely damaged gunship streaked by, hit the ground, and rolled, coming to a rest not far from our position.

Tup and I ran to Fives as he and Jesse fired on the last of the droids. We advanced towards the gunship crash site.

As we approached, we could hear the screams of pain. Called over comms for additional medics and a tank for evacuation. There were none available, everyone had suffered heavy personnel and equipment loss.

A trooper approached, pointing me in the direction of an injured brother.

“Is anyone else alive?” I inquired.

“I don’t think so, sir,” he said.

I reached the trooper and swiftly pulled my backpack off, reaching for two tourniquets. One leg had been fully amputated just above the knee and the other leg was partially amputated below the knee. Blood was pouring from both legs.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered.

“Jesse, I’m going to need you to help me so he doesn’t bleed out. Put this one on the left leg and I’ll take the right leg.”

I slid the tourniquet on and yanked the strap tight before cranking the windlass. The trooper screamed in pain.

“I know it hurts, but it’s going to save your life,” I said.

Jesse and I both got our tourniquets secure and the bleeding quickly stopped. I dressed what was left of his legs with two large bacta trauma dressings.

Next, I pulled out a syringe filled with pain medicine.

“This is going to help the pain, but make you sleepy. We’re going to get you out of here. You’re going to be ok,” I assured him. I removed his helmet and his skin was pale, clammy, and cool. His carotid pulse was thready. I pulled the IV kit out and started a like in his jugular vein. This would have been a great time to have blood or plasma, but fluids and bacta would have to suffice.

“Jesse, he’s going to need evaced now or he’s not going to make it.”

“I’ve already called for them to come get him, they finally have a tank in the area and it should be arriving any minute,” he said.

I hadn’t looked up from my patient until now. I wish I hadn’t. A couple meters away laid a trooper that had been completely transected. I continued scanning the area, seeing dead trooper after dead trooper.

My concentration was broken by the sound of moaning. I got up and started searching for the origin. I found a trooper who’s arm had been completely amputated and a large piece of metal debris was crushing his lower half. Judging by the amount of blood on the ground, he was close to exsanguination. I knew there was no saving him. I removed his helmet and was surprised to find he was still semi-conscious. His carotid pulse was barely palpable and his chest rise was short and shallow.

“Help….me...p..p..please,” he pleaded, in between gasps for air.

“I will, don’t worry. It’s going to be ok.”

I pulled out another syringe of pain killer and injected his neck, in hopes of easing his transition to the next world. I removed my helmet so that the last things he would see would not be cold, unfeeling plastoid. I held his head on my lap and gently stroked his hair watching his honey colored eyes struggle to stay open. A few seconds passed and his eyes closed and his chest was still.

I felt a hand under my elbow, pulling me up.

“C’mon, Doc, there’s more of my vod that will need you,” Fives urged in a somber tone.

For hours, Fives, Jesse, and Tup took me from injured trooper to injured trooper, dodging and fighting the clankers and bugs. I was exhausted and covered in blood and dirt and vomit.

“Rex needs us to join up with General Skywalker, he needs help taking down the wall,” Fives said. “It’s going to be tight in that gorge, so you need to keep your head down and stay right beside me.”

“Understood. Let’s go,” I replied.

__________________

General Skywalker’s forces were pinned down in the gorge by the laser blasts coming from numerous guns mounted on an insurmountable wall. It would need to be destroyed so that we could advance and meet the rest of our forces at Point Rain.

We took cover with the General, Commander, and Captain Rex. I was relieved to see that Rex was unharmed.

“Ahsoka and I will go to the top of the wall and destroy it from within. Rex, you and your men keep their attention down here,” General Skywalker ordered.

“Yes, sir!” Rex responded.

Rex came over to me.

“Are you doing ok?” he asked.

“Oh, you know, just living the dream,” I replied with a weak smile as I motioned to the mess on my armor.

“Good, stay here where it’s safe,” he ordered as he left cover to lead his men.

There were so many clones being shot down, but I could not reach them safely.

“Fire on the droids on top of the wall,” came Rex’s order over comm.

I looked out around the rocks I was behind to see General Skywalker and Commander Tano fighting the droids on top of the wall. The Jedi were mesmerizing to watch. I then noticed someone else had joined them. It was Rex.

“Take cover, the wall is about to blow!” He yelled over comms. Then I heard him scream. All I could see was three bodies falling from the top of the wall. The explosives detonated and I quickly took cover. I wondered if Rex had survived the fall.

As the smoke cleared, I noticed there were considerably less laser blasts. I started checking on the wounded troopers. There were very few survivors.

I patched up what injuries I could before we advanced.

After another intense firefight, we finally made it to General Kenobi’s position at Point Rain. The General was injured, but had already been given a bacta injection. I moved on to help load and evacuate the rest of the wounded.

I was kneeling, wrapping a trooper's head wound when I felt a presence behind me. It was Rex. I was relieved to see he was uninjured.

“I know there’s a lot to be done here, but we’re ready to move out and start the direct assault on the factory. We’re going to need you,” he said.

I finished securing the dressing.

“I need to restock my bag, but I’m ready,” I said wearily.

Rex reached out a hand to help me up. I took it, my aching joints thankful for the assistance. He led me over to two lifeless bodies.

Unfortunately, there had been two medics who had not survived. I hesitated next to them momentarily.

“Go ahead and resupply from what they have left. It’s all we have,” Rex said.

I took their supplies and got ready to move out.

_________________________

Unfortunately Rex was right, they did need me. General Skywalker led an assault straight to the front doors of the droid factory, in an effort to distract the droids while Commander Tano and another padawan destroyed the factory from inside. The plan worked, but it left many casualties in its wake.

I worked with the other medics well into the night. We were exhausted by the time the last gunship left.

I shuffled back to camp, in search of somewhere to rest. There were a number of fires with troopers sitting around them. Some groups were boisterous, others somber.

Then I saw him, sitting alone by a fire that was separated from the others. I made my way to Rex.

“This seat taken?” I asked

“Nope, sit down and rest,” he said as he patted the seat next to him. The seat being the ground with rocks to lean on.

“You look awful,” he said as he scrunched his face.

“You don’t look so great yourself,” I quipped.

Rex smirked.

“You’re no longer a shiny after today, but that doesn’t mean you need to be covered in blood and vomit, either,” he retorted.

He took me to the deconn area and helped me scrub away the reminders of the day.

“You had a busy first day.”

“Yes, too busy.”

I put my clean armor on and we returned to the fire. We sat in silence for what seemed like hours, watching the flames dance and listening to the cracking of the fire. I was somewhere between exhausted and unable to sleep. I had seen bad injuries in med bay, but nothing like I’d seen today. I needed time to process everything.

Rex touched my shoulder and I was jolted out of my spaced out state.

“C’mere,” he said, beckoning me to lean up against him. He removed his chest plate so I could rest directly on him and not on plastoid.

I was so tired that I didn’t hesitate. I sat down between his legs and snuggled into his chest. It was definitely better than laying on the ground.

_________________

He watched her stare at the fire blankly for some time. She was no doubt replaying the events of the day. She’d held her own, but he could see it had taken a toll. He knew the feeling all too well.

Rex wanted to comfort her; let her know she wasn’t alone. He wasn’t sure what possessed him, but he offered her to rest with him.

She came to him, laying her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. He wondered what it would be like to actually hold her without all the kriffing plastoid between them. She quickly fell asleep.

“Oh, cyar’ika,” he whispered into her hair.

————————————

The faint, pre-dawn light on my face was enough to wake me. I rubbed my eyes, trying to bring the blurry world into focus.

No one else was stirring, but I knew it wouldn’t be long. I thought it best that the Captain wasn’t caught snuggling the medic.

“Rex, Rex wake up,” I said quietly as I gently touched his face. His facial features were striking. His cheeks, chin, and jaw were perfectly defined. I held his face in my hand and ran my thumb over the slight stubble that had grown in.

“Hmmm?” He inquired.

“Rex, it’s nearly dawn, everyone will be awake soon.”

He squeezed me closer.

His voice was still gruff from sleep.

“Kriff. Better not get caught like this,” he rubbed his eyes and we both stood up. “We should be shipping back to the Resolute today. Do you want to, uh, meet me in my quarters later? We can debrief and, uh, have a drink.”

Rex looked a little sheepish, which was funny to me, since most of the time he was a brave, tough, clone.

“Yeah, that would be nice,” I smiled and left to see what needed to be done before departure.

——————————

We were back aboard the Resolute in the early evening, just in time for dinner. I sat with the boys, listening to them discuss how many clankers and bugs they killed. I hadn’t seen Rex since arriving on the ship. He was probably stuck in his quarters working on reports.

“I took out 70!” Fives boasted.

“Yeah? Well I took out at least 100, probably more!” Hardcase stood up and pretended to be firing his rotary blaster cannon.

I was sipping my caf and enjoying the banter.

“Did any of ya bother to ask our new medic how many clankers she took out?” Jesse asked.

“Oh, uh, well, it’s nothing compared to your counts,” I said, waving my hand dismissively.

“Tell us!!!” Hardcase coaxed.

“Ok, I took out...three.”

“Woooo! Hell yeah!” They all started cheering and giving me high fives.

“That’s pretty good for a shiny medic who’s not even trained for combat. Makes my heart proud,” Hardcase sniffled, pretending to wipe a tear.

“Doc ain’t shiny after that battle,” Fives pointed out.

“Sure isn’t. To Doc!” Hardcase said as he raised his glass in a toast.

Everyone followed and raised their glasses.

“To Doc!”

I smiled, raising my cup of caf.

“Welcome to the family, vod,” Fives said, slapping me on the back.

“Thank you, my vod,” I smiled. I knew what an honor it was to be considered one of their vod.

I caught something out of the corner of my eye and looked towards the mess hall entrance to see Rex standing in the hall, just far enough back from the mess entrance so that it was unlikely his men would see him. We made eye contact and he tilted his head, motioning me to come to his quarters. I could feel the butterflies stirring in my stomach.

I pushed back from the table. “Well boys, I’m going to hit the fresher and call it a night.”

————————————

I stopped at my quarters to grab a change of clothes to take with me. I hoped he would be fine with me using his shower. I had become quite attracted to him, but I was afraid if I delayed meeting him, I might lose my nerve.

I made my way to his door and rang the buzzer. He answered the door in just his blacks. I couldn’t help but notice how well they clung to him. It was nothing short of glorious.

“Would you like to come in, or are you going to stand in the hall all night?” He asked, breaking my trance.

“Yes, I’d love to come in. Can I use your shower?”

“You can. I’m going to finish up these reports while you shower.”

His fresher was much bigger and nicer than mine. I took off my armor and my dirty blacks and turned the water on. I was still grimy from the mission and eager to get clean.

The first drop of hot water touched my soul. I didn’t mind being on a mission, but not being able to shower was unpleasant. My hair was caked to my head, tangled, even though it had been braided. Thanks, helmet. The water at my feet ran grimy with dirt, sweat, and blood. I scrubbed until the water ran clean.

I dried off and reached for my clothes. I saw a robe hanging on the wall and changed my mind. My heart was racing and the butterflies returned as I stood there, thinking about wearing Rex’s robe, and only his robe.

“Be bold, you can do this,” I whispered to myself.

I made up my mind and grabbed the robe. It was soft, but not plush. It stopped just below my knees and the sleeves extended to my fingertips. I tied it shut and opened the door.

Rex looked up from his reports with one eyebrow raised. He laid the datapad on the table.

“Would you like a drink?” He asked as he moved to the small liquor cabinet in the corner.

“Yes, please,” I said as I sat down on the couch, knees to the side.

“Whiskey fine? It’s really all I’ve got.”

He handed me the glass and sat down beside me. I swirled the amber liquid and took a sip. There were notes of vanilla, caramel, dark fruit and wood and it finished with a slight spice of pepper.

“This tastes expensive”

“It is, but I thought this evening was the perfect time to share it,” he brought his glass to his lips, slowly sipping. It was then I noticed how the whiskey matched his brown eyes.

His hand was laying in the space between us. I reached my hand out and laid it on his, gently stroking. Rex took my hand and raised it to his lips.

“Come here, mesh’la.”

I straddled his lap. Maker, his cock was already hard beneath me.

He brushed my hair behind my ear and then pulled my face to his, kissing me. His mouth tasted spicy, yet sweet, from the whiskey.

He moaned and thrust his tongue into my mouth as I rocked my hips back and forth against his erection.

Rex loosed the tie at my waist and pushed the robe from my shoulders. He gently moved me into an upright position.

Rex’s eyes trailed up and down my naked body, stopping every so often to linger. His hands moved from my hips to cup my breasts.

“Last night while I was holding you, I tried to imagine how soft and warm you were beneath the cold, hard plastoid.”

His thumbs lazily passed over my nipples, demanding the soft flesh to stand at attention.

“It’s better than I imagined, cyar’ika.” His hands slid down and squeezed my ass.

I pulled his shirt off and ran my hands down his solid chest and abdomen to the waistband of his pants. A deep “V” ran from his hips to somewhere below the waistband. I traced it with my fingers, leaving goosebumps in my wake. I glanced up from my work to make eye contact. He understood my unspoken request and lifted his hips from the couch, sliding the pants down, cock springing free from its confines.

I wrapped my hand around him, admiring the girth. I used my thumb to tease the head as he had teased my nipples. The leaking precum aided my hand in sliding over his length.

I stood, then knelt on the floor between his legs, taking his cock into my mouth. It was rock hard, but the skin was silky. Rex let out a sharp inhale as my tongue flicked against his sensitive head. He squirmed as I took him fully into my mouth, deep into my throat. I cupped his balls and his hands shot to the back of my head, grabbing my hair. He was gentle, but needy, thrusting into my mouth.

After a few minutes he stopped and pulled out.

“My turn, mesh’la.”

He stood and led me to his bed. I laid down on the edge and he quickly pushed my legs apart. His hand slid down to my swollen clit, rubbing slow circles.

“Maker, you’re already soaking wet,” he said as his fingers moved lower, sliding up and down my slit. He thrust one large finger in, causing me to grab the sheets.

“That ok?”

“Yes, it’s…wonderful,” I said breathlessly.

He curled the finger up, easily finding my g-spot. I pushed my hips into the bed. Rex smiled as he lowered his head to my clit. Shockwaves pulsed through me as his tongue licked my clit while his finger pushed and rubbed my g-spot.

“Gonna...cum,” I squeaked out.

He sped up the pace, pushing me over the edge. A white hot warmth ripped through my abdomen and my walls clenched tightly around his finger. He didn’t let up, causing me to orgasm in waves. All I could see were flashes of light behind my clenched eyelids. I reached for his head, looking for something solid to grasp. My fingers clawed, trying to find a hold, but his hair was short. The last wave was more like a tsunami and I squirted onto his chin and into his upturned palm.

“Mmmm,” he moaned.

He slowed his pace and finally stopped, removing his finger from my sensitive slit. He licked my squirt from his hand.

“Maker, I’ve never known anyone to do that,” He complimented, pleased look on his face.

“Takes someone special to make me do it,” I answered.

“Ready for more?”

“Mhhmm.”

He flipped me over onto my stomach and entered from behind. His girth alone nearly made me orgasm again. I took several short breaths in an attempt to hold back. He thrust fully into me and I whimpered.

“Too much, mesh’la?”

“No, just, sensitive. Maker, you fill me up.”

He started thrusting slowly until he was certain I was ready for more. His hands gripped my hips, sliding me forward and back on his thick cock.

The thrusts intensified and the waves of orgasm washed over me again.

“Mmpph,” he groaned behind me, struggling to move against my spasmining.

My orgasm let up and I could feel his thrusts becoming more urgent and sloppy. I pushed my hips down and back repeatedly.

He moaned loudly, filling me with warm cum. Rex leaned on top of me, hands reaching around to hold my dangling breasts. My thighs and midsection were still tingling with aftershocks.

Rex placed a gentle kiss between my shoulder blades and stood, withdrawing his cock. I could fill the hot stickiness of his orgasm dripping out of me. I could see him watching, before he disappeared to the fresher and returned with a towel.

Rex laid down on the bed while I finished cleaning up. I couldn’t help but to stand and stare at him laying there, naked, eyes closed, one arm above his head. He looked like an ancient sculpture of some tragically handsome warrior. I tossed the towel to the side and crawled in beside him.

————————-

I laid with my head on his chest, enjoying the sound of his heart and gentle rise and fall of his chest.

“Bzzzzzz,” came the annoying noise of the doorbell. It was followed by a voice.

“Captain? It’s Fives.”

Rex sighed. Fives was going to be the reason he had a stroke one day.

“I’ll go to the fresher so he doesn’t know I’m here,” I said. It was better to keep things concealed for now.

“Grab my spare pair of blacks out of that drawer so you don’t have to wear your dirty ones,” he said as he pulled on his pants.

I hoped up and grabbed the shirt and pants and headed for the fresher. I couldn’t leave my armor behind, so wearing my personal change of clothes wasn’t an option.

Rex crossed the room to the door, wearing only the lower half of his blacks.

“Yes, Fives?” He sounded slightly annoyed.

“ Have you seen Doc anywhere? One of the men has a shoulder out and was hoping to see her and avoid med bay.”

“Shit,” I whispered. I started getting dressed as quietly as I could.

“Did you check her quarters?” Rex asked.

“Yes, sir, she’s not there, the mess, or med bay. Not answering her comm either.”

“Uh, give me just a minute to get dressed, and we’ll go find her,” Rex said.

————————

Fives waited outside the door while Rex dressed. He smiled and chuckled to himself. Rex was smart, but he’d forgotten to move the second whiskey glass off the table. Fives was certain he knew where she was.

He was proud of his captain. Rex never let himself have fun, and Fives knew he needed it. Fives was just wondering how he’d manage to land her when his own charm in med bay had never won her heart.

Rex came to the door, now fully dressed.

“What’s funny, Fives?” He inquired, squinting his eyes in suspicion .

“Uh, nothing, sir. Let’s go find her”.

——————————————-

As soon as they were gone I dressed at lightning speed. I opened the door and peeked into the hallway. Thankfully it was empty, since it was late at night.

Now, where should I go? My comm flashed and I turned it on. It was Rex and Fives talking.

“Let’s check her quarters, the med bay, the hangar, and the mess again, in that order,” Rex said.

I took that as my sign to make my way to the mess. That would give me enough time to get there, grab some caf, and come up with a story.

The mess was once again empty, which was good as there’d be no one to say I had just come in.

I grabbed a cup of caf and found a comfortable seat, trying to act relaxed.

About five minutes later, Rex and Fives entered the mess.

“Hey guys, want to join me?” I asked, pretending to be surprised to see them.

“Where ya been, Doc? I thought you were headed to the fresher and turning in hours ago?” Fives asked, squinting at me.

“Oh, well I got cleaned up but couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk around the ship and then decided to stop here for some caf.”

“Uh huh,” Fives was not convinced. “I’ve been trying to get you on comms for an hour.”

“Ummm damn thing must have been malfunctioning, I never heard a thing,” I shrugged my shoulders.

Rex decided to interject, before Fives could interrogate me further.

“Fives says one of the men has a shoulder out and wants to see you. Go with him to the barracks and see what you can do,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

I followed the pair to the door. Rex turned to head back to his quarters.

“Sweet dreams, Captain!” Fives said in a sarcastic tone, waving ridiculously.

Rex didn’t even turn, he just held up his middle finger.

I stifled a laugh until he was out of sight and then Fives and I both laughed.

We composed ourselves as we headed towards the barracks.

“So, you and the Captain, eh?” He elbowed me.

“I have no idea what you are talking about? Me and the Captain what??” I tried to sound offended but the heat in my cheeks was giving me away. Fives could see right through me.

“I saw the second glass on the table in his quarters. It’s the only reasonable place you could have been since none of the clones on watch saw you. You and the Captain are bad liars,” he had a sly smile, as if he’d just uncovered a major separatist plot.

I looked down at the floor, embarrassed that I’d been so transparent and that I’d forgot to move the glass.

“It’s no big deal, Doc. I won’t tell anyone your secret. You two don’t need to go to such trouble to hide it. I’m just glad to see the Captain getting some ass!” He laughed and I socked him hard on the shoulder, the pain in my knuckles making me instantly regret my decision.

“Don’t be mad, cyar’ika, it’s all in good fun.”

“I’m not mad, you just deserved it for being a cheeky bastard,” I gave him a sly smile.

“You know you love me,” he grinned from ear to ear as he put his arm around my shoulder.

“So, whose shoulder is out?”

“Tup.”

“And how exactly did he manage that?”

“Hardcase.”

I placed my palm on my face in exasperation. You’d think the battles were enough fighting for them that they wouldn’t need to rough house in the barracks.

We arrived in the barracks to find an injured Tup, sitting on his bunk, guarding the injured left shoulder.

“Ouch, Tup, that’s definitely out of socket,” I observed as I palpated the injury. “Sure you don’t want to do this in med bay with a sedative?” The muscles were spasming and I knew it was extremely painful.

“Nah, I’ll be alright,” he grimaced.

“Ok, will you boys help him lay on the floor, please?”

“I thought a lady would prefer to do it in bed,” Fives quipped.

“Fives, you’re on thin ice,” I joked as I gave him a fake serious look and the “I’m watching you” motion with my fingers. He just laughed, as did his vod.

I worked to manipulate his arm, hoping the shoulder would pop back in with little resistance.

I rotated his arm 90 degrees at the elbow, rotating the shoulder outward as I gently pushed. After several minutes, I felt a pop as the humeral head relocated.

Tup breathed a sigh of relief and sat up. We helped him back onto his bunk.

“Thanks, Doc, that feels a lot better.”

“I’m going to give you a bacta injection to reduce the inflammation. I’m also going to put a sling on that arm tonight to give it time to rest. You should be good as new by tomorrow.”

The clones that had gathered to observe had started to disperse now that the excitement was over.

“Alright, Tup, I think you’re good to go. Try to get some rest, but comm me if you need me. As for the rest of you, try not to get hurt between now and revelry; I’m tired,” I yawned and rubbed my eyes.

I made my way back to my quarters, stripped, and flopped down on my bed. I just closed my eyes when my comm started beeping. I sighed and started to get up, assuming someone needed something.

“Might as well answer and get it over with,” I grumbled as I pressed the answer button.

“Nuhoy pirusti, cyar'ika.”

Sleep well, darling.

#captain rex #rex x reader #captain rex x reader #the clone wars #clone wars fanfiction #captain rex fanfic #clone trooper fives #arc trooper jesse #arc trooper fives #clone trooper tup #clone trooper hardcase #star wars #@pinkiemme

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yesttoheaven · 3 years

Text

I SEE YOU – chapter IV

pairing – arthur fleck x female!reader

wc – 2.3k

warnings – idk... misty being a b*tch with arthur?

a/n – hi everyone! I hope you are well because I'm brazilian and I cannot say the same lol the president is a piece of shit and he can't rule the country in the middle of a pandemic (not even without the pandemic, in fact)

anyway enjoy the chapter!

English is not my first language. I am getting help from google translator and he is not always a good ally, so I apologize for any typos or grammar errors.

Y/N – your name

chapter one. chapter two.

chapter three. chapter four.

"What are you doing here, Misty?" The surprise was notable in Y/N's words.

Many people could walk through that door, but Misty was definitely not one of them.

"I should ask you the same question..." The woman came over and put her hands on the actress' shoulders, smiling amiably. "But we don't have time for that right now. You have a dinner to go! And it is not right to keep a man like Charles waiting."

"Charles?" Arthur asked, trying to find a way to join the conversation. "Is he also an actor?"

After these simple words, the redhead burst out laughing and Arthur didn't understand what he had done wrong this time. He was just curious and a little interested to know who was the man who had a date with Y/N that night.

"Actor? God, have you never heard of Charles Lewis Tiffany?" Misty questioned how if the fact that Arthur didn’t know the man was an offense to humanity and Arthur just shook his head, too embarrassed to say anything else.

Who the hell was this man? The Pope? And why did Y/N have a dinner with Pope?

"It's okay, Arthur." Always so graceful, the actress reassured him and left Misty's side to be close to him. "Charles owns Tiffany & Co., the one that appears in the movie Breakfast at Tiffany's... Have you watched this movie before?"

"Oh, oftentimes!"

"Me either! And now Charles wants me to be the face of his new collection! I'm so excited, he came to Gotham just to follow it up in person!" The happiness shining in her eyes was contagious, but Misty didn’t like seeing Y/N squeeze the man’s arm gently.

"I hate to have to do this... the conversation is so pleasant, but we have to go, mon cher." With a smile, Y/N's manager adjusted the bag on her shoulder. She wanted to take the actress away from this freak as soon as possible.

"You cannot go without the VHS tape." Arthur objected, receiving a death glare from Misty, but the only thing that mattered to him was Y/N. "I'll get this for you." After these words, the man left the living room with a reason to make her stay a little longer in his apartment.

"Well, I think we're going to have to wait." Y/N shrugged, but inside she was beaming.

Feeling her mouth dry, she picked up the glass of water on the table, but that was her worst mistake.

"What are you doing? Don't drink this! That dirty glass is full of germs!" The glass was snatched from her hand and Y/N looked at Misty in disbelief.

"That glass is not dirty, Misty."

"How can you be sure of that? I heard that the Narrows sewer is one of the worst in Gotham!"

"Thanks for the lesson, but that didn’t come from the Narrows sewer. This water is from the kitchen tap."

"Oh my God..." The actress could have sworn that the woman's face turned green and she would vomit at any moment. "Why did you drink this? You'll be sick!"

Before Y/N had a chance to respond to these insanities, someone called her. She ran over to the bag and took out her cell phone. It was Charles.

"Hey, Charles! It's good to talk to you." On the other side, all she received were strange noises. The man's voice was being cut off and it was difficult to understand. "The connection is awful..."

"Why am I not surprised? Narrows is the end of the world!" Misty commented, rolling her eyes.

Without time for this discussion, Y/N said:

"Maybe in the corridor I will get a better signal."

"Be careful, you don't know what kind of neighbors there are in this place." She warned, listening to the door open and close, but Y/N said nothing.

Alone in the living room, Misty had the same disgusted look as when she arrived. For her this apartment is small even for an ant and this wallpaper is ridiculous, but in the midst of so much poverty, something on the couch attracted her attention.

"What do we have right here? I don't believe he has a diary..." The woman whispers to herself, laughing, after picking up Arthur's journal. She knew it was wrong, but she was bored.

The first few pages were OK, he had a shitty life like any other unfortunate person, but what came next scared the hell out of her. Misty knew there was something wrong with this man. The instant she saw him, she knew, but that... those words... were from a sick person. Arthur was a disgusting pervert. The redhead needed a moment to breathe and then she saw the magazines on the table and an scissors...

Oh no. He intends to include Y/N in this depravity show!

"I finally found." With bright eyes, Arthur looked for Y/N in the living room, but all he found was Misty... and his journal. "W-What... What are you d-doing?"

"Stay away from me!" She exclaimed, backing away for fear that he would do something against her. "I swear, if you get close I'll scream so loud and when Y/N comes through that door, I will tell her your little secret. She will be so disappointed, but she will finally find out who you really are... A perv!"

"N-No, please... You got it wrong." He tried, his voice taking on a desperate tone. Arthur didn't want to lose the actress's friendship. She was too important for him. "I c-can explain."

"Oh, can you explain? You will glue Y/N's head to a cat's body and then you will sit on that old sofa and touch yourself? You should be in Arkham! You're a sick person! I can't believe Y/N was alone with you..."

Arthur felt his stomach churning.

"You're wrong... I have a lot of respect for her. Y/N is special to me and I would never do something like that."

"I don't want to hear your excuses!" The woman threw the journal at him and Arthur cringed like a frightened dog. After hitting him on the back, the journal fell to the floor and when he saw those collages, he felt ashamed of himself. "Listen to me... I will say this only once: Stay away from her. It doesn’t matter what kind of fantasies you’ve created in your sick head, Y/N will not be a part of that. If I know that after today you keep talking to her, I'll call the police and when they find out you're a fucking perv, you will spend the rest of your days in Arkham." She warned with all the letters and threats, now it was up to him to choose to cooperate or not. This man is too old to play being a teenager. These images of naked women, these cats and those sad quotes in his journal prove just one thing. Maybe he's a sexual predator, but Misty wouldn't be here to find that out either. "Enjoy your pornography and leave Y/N alone. I hope I never see you again."

Arthur saw his world fall apart as soon as the redhead left his apartment with the worst assumptions about him. He was not a perverted monster. He would never touch Y/N without her consent and would never endanger her life. Never ever. Y/N was the only good thing about Gotham; she was a light at the end of the tunnel. So angelic and peaceful. Whenever she smiles, butterflies appear in his stomach and Arthur knows what these famous butterflies mean, but he doesn't know what those collages mean... If Y/N knew, she would probably be afraid of him.

In the corridor, the actress was trapped in a bubble, talking animatedly with Charles. The call had no specific reason, the man just wanted to make sure everything was fine for dinner that night.

"Okay... This is one of Gotham's best restaurants. Trust me, you will love the place!" She assured him, intending to make a good impression. It wasn't every day that she got a chance to dine with the genius behind Tiffany & Co. and represent that brand. This was an important step in her career. "Now I need to go, Charles. See you soon, bye!" Y/N hummed the ending, watching Misty approach where she was. "Why are you here?"

"It's just your friend's mom. She's not feeling very well..."

"Isn't Penny okay?" Concern crossed Y/N's face and she tried to get back to apartment 8J, but Misty took her arm, lying again:

"Y/N, don't be indiscreet. This is a family problem and Arthur is taking care of it." With those words, she guided the actress to the elevator, but Y/N kept looking at the door to Arthur's apartment. "You need to prepare for dinner... I chose a beautiful dress for you."

...

THREE DAYS LATER

"Put red on her lips... Don't forget the mascara... and on the cheeks use this blush... Not this one! The peach blush!"

It was possible to say that Charles Lewis Tiffany was taking the place of the makeup artist. The woman was losing patience, Y/N realized this, but he wanted to participate in every second of it. When she finished, Charles smiled, admiring Y/N's beauty through the mirror.

"You see? You're genuinely beautiful... I think I finally found my muse." The actress was flattered by the compliments and that reflected in her smile when Charles took a blue box, but this was not a simple blue box. This is the famous Tiffany Blue Box. "I want you to meet my new creation..." He opened the box, stealing Y/N's breath instantly. "Dramatically plunging down the decolletage, an incredible emerald-cut bicolor zoisite that shifts from violet-blue to purplish-red, depending on the angle. The pendant is over 48 carats and it's wrapped in a halo of baguette diamonds and suspended from a diamond rondelle chain of over 37 total carats."

"Oh Charles, this is absolutely beautiful. I'm speechless..." She confessed, watching him take the necklace and offer to put it around her neck. Y/N accepted immediately and when the pendant touched the white fabric of the dress, she smiled at the mirror.

"Diamonds are a girl's best friend" Charles whispered, eliciting a giggle from her. "Now I need to speak to the photographer, but take a few minutes to prepare yourself." The man smiled one last time and Y/N walked to the door, opening it for him. She took the opportunity to spy on what was happening on the other side and it was possible to say that there was a little sadness in her eyes.

"What are you looking for?" Misty's voice echoed and she closed the door quickly.

"Huh... nothing!"

The woman was checking the contract – something about image authorization – and when she took her eyes off the papers, she found Y/N with a half-hearted smile.

"Go ahead... Spill the tea."

Brian was probably smoking, so Misty was her only option.

"Arthur was busy these days, but he called me this morning... He looked nervous and said he would like to talk to me, so I invited him to accompany the photoshoot, but..."

"You did what?!" Misty left the chair, interrupting her. Not wanting to start a scene, the redhead looked at Dariela, the makeup artist, and said: "Get out." The woman immediately stopped organizing her makeup and ran out of the dressing room.

"Was that necessary?" Y/N asked, crossing her arms.

"And was it necessary to invite that maniac to come here too?"

"Jesus, Misty!" She walked to the other side of the dressing room. "Manic? Really?"

"I'm just telling the truth."

"Based on what? His bank account?"

"Based on his journal." Misty replied and the actress looked in her direction with a frown. Shaking her head, the redhead let out a bitter laugh before confessing: "He doesn't use it just to write jokes... I found a lot of pornography on those pages."

Y/N felt a little uncomfortable with that. Certain things do not need to be exposed... She didn't need to know about that part of Arthur's life and Misty just invaded his privacy.

"Well... many men consume pornography daily."

"Y/N, pornography is not the point here. He makes some weird collages... women with cat heads... skulls... one of these women was tied up in a compromising position... Can you see how problematic this is?" Misty was trying to open her eyes and consequently was scaring the actress, but that was not all. "I saw the magazines. That man will probably do the same to you... your face on the body of these naked women or on a cat's body! You have always been uncomfortable with the way men see you only as a sex symbol... and now Arthur is using you as a sex toy!"

"Stop! Just stop, okay?" Y/N demanded, using an edgy tone of voice. That was too much for her to assimilate. "You're saying this because you do not accept the idea of Arthur being my friend! All that matters to you is status, but it doesn't matter to me! When are you going to let me live my own life?"

"This is not about social classes, this man is a pervert! I'm trying to protect you!"

"Enough, Misty!" That was enough to make the redhead shut up and Y/N found her way back to the mirror.

To complete the look, inside the blue box was a beautiful diamond ring and a pair of shiny round diamond earrings, just waiting for her. Putting on the ring was an easy task, but she couldn’t say the same about earrings; her hands were shaking and this is all the fault of the stress.

"Let me help you." The manager approached and at first Y/N refused her help, but after another failed attempt, she handed the earrings to the woman. "I know I can be a bitch sometimes..."

"Sometimes?"

Misty just sighed, shaking her head.

~~~~~~~▪~~~~~~~~~▪~~~~~~~~~▪~~~~~~~~~~

a/n – likes and reblogs are appreciated but honestly I’d love to know what you all think of this one. really hope you enjoy it and thank you soooo much for reading ♡

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herstoryherlegacy · 3 years

Text

Expect the unexpected

(Trigger warning - lots of throw ups)

This has never really been my motto. Most things in my life have been expected or I’ve had signs pointed out to me that gives me a hint of what lies ahead. I was not expecting to be in the ER tonight. Actually I was just about to put my makeup on and do a lovely couples photoshoot with my husband when I got the call to come to the ER for possible blood clot in my lungs. Let me back up..

I had been healing from my port placement 3 days ago. Yesterday I was texting Juan updates on how I was feeling. I’m extremely thankful he was so diligent on checking in on me. My main concern was the tightness in my chest, pressure where the port is. I couldn’t take a deep breath. I felt better resting. I had even been doing light housework to stay up and active. Today he checked in again. The chest pressure was better. I could actually take a deep breath with little to no problem. Fast forward to this afternoon. I had went down to my best friend Sam’s salon to get my hair styled for my photoshoot. She’s on the 2nd floor and we took the stairs. My favorite part. I hadn’t exercised since my diagnosis and it’s been killing me. I was so active. Upon reaching the 2nd floor which was not far, I was winded. I text Juan letting him know, and he didn’t respond right away. I sat down, caught my breath, and got my hair done. As soon as I parked at home Juan called. He was consulting his doctor and advised I go in ASAP to an urgent care to be seen. I needed an x-ray, EKG, oxygen levels checked to rule out a possible blood clot in the lungs. Fuck me..

Disappointed to say the least. I walked into my home filled with laughter from my girls and their cousins, everyone gathered at the table for a meal, my in laws were visiting. All I could say was, we have to go to urgent care. I didn’t even kiss my babies goodbye 😕 I said goodbye to them but not thinking I wouldn’t be back tonight didn’t cross my mind. Now I wish I had. I arrived at a local urgent care before closing and the first thing I noticed in the lobby were vases of fake sunflowers. By pure coincidence, I use a sunflower background when I update my stories about my disease. I immediately knew this was God’s way of telling me he was with me and that I would be okay. I went into a room to be evaluated, and guess what kind of shoes the nurse was wearing? I’d never seen these before, but white vans with yellow sunflowers all over. There are no coincidences! However I wasn’t helped and was told to go to the ER.

No one likes to be in the ER, especially not right now. I had labs drawn, and an x-ray which showed proper placement of the port. Luckily Juan was here working and able to be there for my x-ray. He came to see me once more before he left to tell me he was going to communicate with the doctor about my CT and insulin complications. I had mentioned I was waiting for my husband to bring my charger because I was basically on E, and he graciously went to retrieve his charger to give to me. So extremely thankful for that gesture because alone, with no connection to my family in this place, is NOT the business. A charged phone is a precious lifeline so please always keep yours charged! So now..I wait for the CT.

I had been moved all over that ER. First I came to a bed and talked with a nurse. Then another nurse came in demanding she needed the bed. Once I was done I was booted off that bed so fast and into a chair in a hallway. The place was littered with sick people inside and outside rooms. It was so sad and crowded. I do believe I was mixed with both normal sick people and possible covid patients. To say I was nervous is an understatement. Back and forth I went between rooms, chairs, main waiting room, and scans. The longest wait was waiting to have my CT scan. I was in a room with chemo type reclining chairs. This poor girl in front of me was dealing with pain, bad. I felt so sorry for her. She was doing a good job being quiet but her face and body language looked like she was in active labor, though she was not. After watching I assumed she was suffering some sort of abdominal pain. When it was just us two, I didn’t want to make her talk, but I told her that I didn’t know what she was going through but that I was going to cover her in prayer. Her eyes lit up. She said thank you a bunch and I just assured her that I had her taken care of. I prayed with healing words. No matter what situation I’m in, I would never turn down the opportunity to put myself aside and pray for someone else who needed it more. I have failed this test before many times being too shy to pray, but you never know how those simple words of offering someone prayer may help them feel better. I wanted to cry, yeah I was in here for a possible life threatening issue, but I was nowhere as bad off as these people.

So I prayed for her, and eventually it was my turn to go to my CT. I had an IV put in, flushed, and had 3 medications to help me with my scan. One was Benadryl. I was actually glad to have it because I’ll be receiving it in my Pre-chemo cocktail and I wasn’t sure how I would feel on it. Yes it made me woozy immediately, but it was tolerable. Almost enjoyable in the correct setting. Waiting again, and was wheeled over by this super nice guy who eased the stress with good conversation. If you’ve ever done an MRI with contrast..it’s a fucking insane feeling. I laid down, the nurse flushed my IV and added the contrast. She loaded me in and waited a few minutes for it to kick in. I was in the machine for another few minutes and immediately when I was done I felt the warm rush. I’ve previously been warned it makes you feel really warm and almost like you’ve pee’d yourself. Thank god they reminded me because the warm sensation is explosive. It simultaneously felt like hot water was exploding from both my chest outward and my crotch 😂 indeed I clenched my body in case I did pee, but that’s exactly how it felt!!! So odd. Off to wait again for the results. This is where it for torturous. I am SO thankful for my AirPods and this charger. I have a very sensitive trigger to throwing up. Myself, other people, I can’t handle it. I actually did a good job this last week because both my girls got a virus, and I wasn’t second hand nauseous at all, that’s a victory. But in this ER literally 90% of the patients were vomiting 😑 I cranked those air pods to the max to drown out the sound. Closed my eyes. I don’t want what they got. So I’m in the big chair room again, my poor friend comes back in. Still in pain desperate for relief. Then another person, and another until the whole room was filled with us 5 people. 3/5 with vomiting 😕. Poor baby I prayed for got sick first, she was telling a nurse she was getting sick from the pain itself. Then the girl directly next to me. As she was getting her IV meds she started to get sick. It was a constant rush of nurses trying to get those sick bags in time..bless their quickness. I winced and turned to my left as to avoid being there. There wasn’t anywhere I could go where I wasn’t in the direct line of someone getting sick. I was miserable. Benadryl still kicking, I tried to nap, but had to keep my eyes open waiting for my name to be called. Eventually the time came, I was put in a draw chair outside the big chair room and my doctor read me the good news! I had my IV’s taken out and asked if they wanted me to go back into the big chair room (I don’t want to hog the draw chair in case someone needed it) and he said sure, just as I stood up the first poor girl started wrenching and I said “you know what I’ll stay here” and with a laugh the nurse walked back to their station and printed my discharge papers. I was R E L I E V E D. I was as calm in this situation as I needed to be, panicking and stressing weren’t going to help me. Easier said than done, to just not stress, but knowing how much trauma your body goes through WHEN you stress, it just wasn’t going to work in my favor. I came home famished, ate my dinner at 11:30pm, followed by a bag of popcorn, followed by a small serving of ice cream. Then my blood sugars sky rocketed all night 🙃 eh, not a good thing but I will hopefully have that very taken care of soon. Praise God nothing came out of this, each day has its own surprises, not all good, but also not all bad. The day started well with me sharing that my CT showed no cancer anywhere else in my body. This is EXTREMELY good news, and ended with me in the ER. You just never know how things will play out. So hug your kids, tell them you love them, do something fun. Enjoy the day given, because in a flash it could all be taken away ✌🏻

#cancer #emergency room #sunflowers #godisgood

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

You and Me...

Chapter 6

***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, non-con, male!rape, injury, violence, description of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self-harm, panic attacks, implied female non-con, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!Jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.

***Chapter Warnings*** VERY BIG TRIGGER WARNING!! This chapter contains descriptions of injuries and heavy implications of Male Rape! Please know I don’t take this sort of thing lightly, and I was gentle as possible in the descriptions and implications as I could be, but still getting the story across as well!! Hints of mental disturbance, language probably, kidnapping, Angst, overall this one is pretty heavy.

Word Count: 2790

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jared x Reader, OFC Justin X Reader, OFC Steve x Reader

A/N: Anyway, all mistakes are mine, please don’t copy my work, Feedback is golden. If you want to be added to the series tag list, or my tag list just let me know! I hope you enjoy this one. After this chapter things tend to start to pick up a little.

Summary: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter your course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getting through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***

It had been three days since Jensen had been to the studio.

Steve had tried calling him but got no answer. Steve was starting to get worried, therefore he was making sure everyone in the office was on edge because that was just Steve.

"Maybe he changed his mind," you mumble, looking through the recordings that had already been done, and checking to make sure all the copyrights for the songs he wanted to do were sent off, and ready just in case he did decide to show back up.

"He can't change his mind! He's under contract to finish this album here in this studio," Steve gritted out, going through Jensen's paperwork looking for another contact to try.

"Damn Steve, you put that shit on lock didn't you?" Justin said, spinning his chair in circles like an overgrown kid, not really concerned as to whether or not Jensen showed back up. He didn’t seem to like Jensen all that much anyway.

Steve turned to give him his best bitchface. "This album could put our studio on the map," he said coldly. “We need this guy to finish this album.”

Then something dawns on you, something you had totally forgotten about. You had Misha's number.

You were going to send him a donation to his charity, and while he was here he gave it to you so that he could text you the address to send the money in to.

"I have Misha's number, try him, maybe he knows a way to contact him," you glancing over your shoulder, and Steve looks at you like he wants to kill you for waiting until now to let that little piece of information out.

Pulling out your phone and text him the phone number, and as soon as his phone buzzed with the number he was calling it, walking into the office, and leaving you and Justin to sit in silence on the other side of the door, listening to see if you could hear something. All the two of you seemed to make out was a muffled conversation that honestly sounded like it was very one-sided, with Misha doing the majority of the talking.

After about 15 minutes Steve walked back into the main recording room pale, and a little nauseated, flopping down in the chair next to you.

"What I'm about to tell you guys doesn't leave this room," Steve said, looking between Justin and yourself. Your heart jumped speed. You didn't like the way he said that.

"Three days ago Jensen was forcibly taken from Jared's bar when he was helping a bartender close up. They just found him today. He's at St. David's South Austin Medical Center," Steve looked down at the ground, and then back up at you two like he was unsure whether or not to tell you both the rest of the story.

"Is he okay?" you asked.

You weren’t exactly sure why your heart fell to your feet. Your hand ideally ran across the hand he touched just a few days ago taking his coffee from you.

"Was it some crazy super fan?" Justin asked, looking at Steve like he was bullshitting the two of you.

Steve turned a little greener.

"No, it wasn't a fan apparently,” Steve took a deep breath in order to settle himself.

“Jensen and Jennifer hooked up a little over a week ago. Apparently, things didn’t go exactly the way she’d hoped, so when she got home she told her brother that Jensen had raped her. He and a few of his buddies took Jensen, and for three days kept him locked in a hotel... Returning the favor," Steve stopped talking, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes tight. Taking a deep breath to stave off the urge to throw up, or scream because he felt like doing both.

You fought to keep your breakfast down. The room seemed to be spinning. Your heart broke for him. Why you didn't know. What the hell? Why do you care so much? He was nothing but a complete and total ass to you! He hated you! Still, you couldn’t shake the gut-wrenching feeling deep down inside of you no matter how hard you tried to.

---------------------------------------

Later that night you paced around your apartment with Steve's words ringing in your head. You couldn't imagine what Jensen had gone through over the past three days. It made you sick to your stomach every time you thought about it.

Grabbing your purse you decide, probably against your better judgment, to head to the hospital. You had to see him. You didn't understand why, you had to see that he was okay.

So now you found yourself walking through the halls of the hospital looking for a nurse to ask which room they were keeping Jensen in. Holding your studio ID tight in your hand, hoping it was enough for them to let you into his room. This late at night you would think there would be more nurses roaming the halls, but things were still and quiet, not much movement at all.

You were just about to give up. You had just about walked the whole hospital, and no one seemed to know where he was. Making your way back to the second-floor elevators you pressed the button impatiently, wondering if maybe they moved him to a different hospital, or if he just asked people to not come to visit him right now, so they were keeping his location a secret or something.

It was stupid to come here in the first place. Jensen hated your guts. He wouldn't want to see you, so why the hell were you even here? That’s what your brain was screaming at you, and you had just about resided to the fact that it was right, and you were being an idiot by coming here.

Annoyed that the elevator was taking so long to open you were about to turn to take the stairs when you heard the familiar ding of the doors opening. Looking up you come face to... well... mid-chest... with Jared.

"Y/N!" Jared said, wrapping you in a bone-crushing hug. He looked exhausted. The amount of puffiness and redness around his eyes told you he had been crying. "What are you doing here?" he asked, surprised to see you standing there.

"Misha told us what happened. I came to see Jensen, but I can't find his room. No one seems to know where he is, or at least they don't want to tell me," you tell him, embarrassed that you even came you stared down at your feet.

Jared draped a long arm around your shoulders turning you around and headed toward the end of the hallway with you, stopping in front of room 241 he turned to face you.

"Y/N, I want to tell you what you're going to see in there. It's not pretty."

You took a deep breath. Why the hell were you all in your feels right now?

"What did they do to him, Jared?" you asked, almost afraid of the answer. Jared swallowed hard, looking like he was about to start crying again.

"They jumped him in my bar while he was waiting on the new guy I hired to close up. They tied him up, knocked him out, and dragged him out of the bar. The rest we are guessing. He hasn't said a word since the ambulance driver picked him up on the side of the road where they dumped him when they were done with him. According to the doctors, it looks like he was tied down to something, then was repeatedly violated. That’s all we know, and he’s not telling."

You held the vomit back that threatened in the back of your throat. Both you and Jared shivered involuntarily.

"When I first saw him he was covered in blood, and what looked like vomit. They had to sedate him to clean it all off of him and do the examination. Every time someone touches him he freaks out. They couldn't even get him as clean as they wanted because he was fighting so hard. From what I understand they cut the twist ties off of his wrist in the ambulance. They said he was just dumped completely naked, and still tied. Some dick truck driver saw him, and called the ambulance, but didn’t have the decency to stop and help him. Just kept on driving.”

Jared watched as you tried to compose yourself, the flood of emotions that were hitting you as he told you how he was found was more than you thought it would be for you.

"You sure you wanna go in there?" he asked you when you finally could breathe properly.”I get it if you don’t.”

"Yeah. I need to see him."

Jared never questioned, he just shook his head and opened the door.

At first, you didn't even see him lying in the bed. It just looked like a heap of covers in the middle of the bed. Moving around the bed you finally found the top of his head.

He was laying on his side with his back to the door, the covers pulled all the way up almost over his head.

"Jay... Y/N's here to see you," Jared said, walking around the bed first.

The heap of cover never moved. Jared looked at you apologetically.

You slowly made your way around the bed, afraid of what you were going to see. He looked so fragile lying there in that bed with monitor, wires and different IV's coming out from under the cover. There wasn't a lot of bruise on his face. Especially around his mouth. It was bruised all the way around his lips to almost his left ear. His lips were swollen and cracked. You shuddered at the thought of what might have caused that.

The rest of him was well covered, but for a scratched up hand sticking out from under the cover by his face.

It was his eyes that got to you the most.

He never made eye contact with you or Jared. He just stared at the wall between the two of you blankly. No light there at all. No movement. A very evident “the light's are on, but no one is home” look.

You couldn't stop the cascade tears that were falling down your face. They had broken something deep inside him, and you didn’t have to be a doctor to see it.

"Physically the injuries aren't permanent. It's the mental damage the doctors are worried about," Jared said, sitting on the small sofa next to his friend's bed, watching him closely.

Jensen just continued to look at the wall as if the two of you weren’t even in the room, and no one was talking about him less than three feet away from his bed.

There was a picture of him and his kids by the bed, no doubt brought there by Jared. He was smiling in the photo. He looked so happy. So contradictory to the broken man laying there in front of you. The longer you stood there you felt like your heart shattered into a million pieces.

Everything in you wanted to pick him up and just hold him until he was okay again, even though you knew that him being “okay” again wouldn’t ever be that easy.

"Did he really do what they say he did to Jennifer?" you turned and asked Jared, feeling like you were going to be sick again looking at the dirt and dried blood under his fingernails.

You tried to keep your mind from wondering whether the blood was his, or his attackers. You weren’t very successful.

"I don't know, and I'm not trying to justify anything he may have done, but do you think he would have deserved this? I was there when he asked her to dinner with him. She was definitely more than willing to show up at his house wearing next to nothing."

He was right of course. No one deserved what Jensen had been through.

You sat down in the chair next to his bed. Jensen was still staring at the wall like he didn't even know the two of you were in there. Reflexively you reached for his hand, wanting to comfort him in some way, but he jerked it under the cover before you even got close, never making a sound.

Even though he didn’t make a sound, he slowly looked up at you. Jared moved closer, not sure what he was going to do, but hoping that seeing you would pull him out of whatever mental cage he had enclosed himself in.

He did nothing. He stared at you for maybe a whole minute. A single tear slipping down his face then looked back at the wall. The blank look never once leaving his eyes.

Nurses came in checking the monitors while you and Jared sat next to Jensen talking, trying to avoid the subject of Jensen's injuries in front of him. Neither of you wanted to upset him. Jensen never moved, still just staring at the wall.

Finally, looking up at the clock you saw that it was close to 1 in the morning. Rubbing your face in frustration because even though you knew it was late you didn't want to leave him. He had dozed on and off while the two of you sat there talking, but he seemed to be awake right then. The amount of drugs they were giving him to manage his pain level probably didn't help his current state either. Still, you couldn't imagine the physical pain he was in. You didn't even want to think about what was going on in his head. Still, it was late, and you needed to let Jared get some rest.

"It's getting late, I need to let you rest. I'll come by tomorrow after work if that's okay," you tell Jared, reaching down to grabbing your purse. When you leaned down to grab your purse you had put your hand on the bed to brace yourself. It was something you did without thinking. Just a natural movement.

So lightly you almost didn't notice it you feel a calloused hand lay softly on top of yours. Looking up you see Jensen had reached over and grabbed your hand. Both yourself and Jared held your breath. For the first time, Jensen slowly made full eye contact with you, and not like he was looking through you with the same blank look on his face.

It was eerie and unnatural. Even though he was physically there, and probably knew vaguely where he was, he seemed to mentally be millions of miles away.

You went to take your hand away just to see what he would do, testing the waters kind of. When you did he tightened his grip on your hand, holding it in place.

"Jay," Jared said, trying to get his friend to look at him.

Jensen never spoke, but he did look at him with tears falling from his deep green eyes. It almost looked like he was on the edge of panic, but wasn’t quite mentally there enough to fall over that edge.

"Are you in pain?" Jared asked.

Jensen did nothing.

"Do you not want Y/N to leave?" he asked Jensen again.

Jensen did nothing, just stared back and forth between Jared and yourself.

Closing his eyes he slipped back into his drug-induced sleep with a death grip still on your hand.

For just a moment you considered staying, you did stay for another hour, Jensen never moved again, just slept. Honestly, it's what his body needed. To rest. So you gently slipped your hand out of his, gave Jared a hug, and your number, telling him to call you if he needed anything, and made your way to the door, letting both men get some rest.

When you finally got back to your car you sat there completely broken-hearted for the man lying in that hospital bed.

You hadn't realized it till right now. Seeing him so broken had brought it right in the front of your attention.

You didn't hate him like you thought.

You felt something else entirely.

This changes things.

For you anyway. Jensen had a long road ahead of him. Last you knew he hated you. Starting your car you wiped away the tears that were still falling from your own eyes. Praying to whoever was listening that you didn't get your heartbroken and that he could recover from this.

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ashisbaeee · 5 years

Text

Her Part 11

a/n: hello lovelies, my goodness, it has been forever since I’ve last been on here and more importantly since updated this series. thank you all so much for being so understanding and patient for my absence, I greatly appreciate it.

here is the long awaited part 11, I truly hope you all enjoy it and that it was worth the wait.💗as always, your feedback is greatly appreciated, I love hearing what you guys think of the chapter.

sorry for any errors

word count: 4.1k(eek!)

italics are Y/N’s thoughts

for those who are interested, I will have the previous parts here:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

_____________________________________

Shock, disbelief coursed through you, completely taking over your frame. What was once your cozy home became uncomfortable, wishing you were still out, albeit your feet were killing you, anywhere else than your quiet home and away from him. You could feel his eyes on you, but you dared not look. You had glued your eyes to the ground; wishing this was some terrible dream. You didn’t need this, not right now. If you were being frank, this was possibly the worst time as he will eventually take in your full appearance, your bump in full display. You never wanted to see his face now and certainly not ever. This wouldn’t be good for you, and ultimately, this wouldn’t be good for the baby. Stood right smack in the middle was the last person on earth you prayed you’d never see again. Shock and anger coursed through you. You could feel your heart racing, your breathing was becoming erratic. You noticed your quickened heartbeat; you could feel it pulsing in your carotid arteries, you were beginning to get a massive migraine and you were becoming a bit nauseous. The room started to spin, it was as if you were back in your first trimester of pregnancy again.

Quick, let me find a garbage can in the event I hurl my guts out.

You pushed that thought to the back of your mind as you took in the man that broke your heart invading your home. And how your sister let him in?! She must have been out of her damn mind. No good was to come out of this. But that was a discussion for a later time.

What is he doing here?! You exclaimed.

“Please Y/N, let me explain” your sister pleads.

“Then get to it” you spoke, your patience gone the moment you stepped foot into your home.

“I saw him while I was at the grocery store. Actually, he saw me and approached me.”

“That doesn’t explain as to how he got here. Meeting at the grocery store doesn’t lead into coming into my home” you interjected.

“I’m getting to that part, so please, just listen” she spoke, while he stood silent a few feet from the both of you.

“He came up to me and asked me how you were doing. Before I could even respond, he said he had seen you with me. He knew that we were both around the area as he had seen pictures of us”

“Pictures from where?!”you interrupted yet again, but you didn’t care.

“Uh, a fan had sent them to me” finally, the man had broken his silence.

Your head snapped so quickly you were surprised it didn’t crack or something possibly worse.

“What??!! A fan?! A fan! How on earth did they even get a picture? Explain”

“A fan had seen you a couple times, or at least that’s what she told me. She sent the pictures-- err- she sent me DMs of you both via Instagram, and this isn’t the first time she has DMed me. One day, as I quickly scrolled passed through my DMs, your name caught my eye. Without thinking, I clicked on the message and that was when I saw your pictures, it was a picture of you smiling. I thought it was a joke, some skilled photoshop or something. My curiosity got the best of me and I couldn’t bear the unknown and the ‘what ifs’ and I was driving myself lad so I think a couple of days later, I sent her a message asking where she saw you. Which brings us to where we are now”

“So she freely sent you the town I’m at?!”

“Well, uhm, yeah. Uh. Yes, she did. Please, calm down”

“I can’t calm down” your voice rising.

“I don’t get why you’re so angry”

Oh hell no. He did not just say that.

“Angry? Want to know why I’m so angry? It’s because what she did was an invasion of privacy?”

“You know, out of all the people in this room, I should be the one that’s angry. Angry that you left me without a trace. How you deliberately went to all extents to erase yourself from the world. You went completely ghost on me. You went to great lengths to make sure that I would never be able to find you ever again. Do you know how sick and worried I was? I didn’t know if you were okay and there was no way for me to find out. God forbid something happened to you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Knowing or not knowing if you were okay or not killed me. So yeah, I am angry, and understandably so” his voice matching yours.

“When did you feel that? When did all those emotions hit you? Huh? Please, enlighten me. Right after I did everything I could to ensure you would never find me again? Don’t act like you cared since the beginning. Clearly you did not care that day when you and the group realized a whole while later that you had left me at the Jimmy Kimmel studio. I get that you were so excited for the movie, trust me, I understand but it really seemed like the movie mattered more than me. Not to sound jealous or anything. But really, I felt like I was invisible and in my opinion, it seemed like a total waste of time and money flying out to you, and that day was a total wake up call; I got your message, loud and clear. A part of me thinks that maybe you’ve never really cared for me, uh, but only you know that answer. But it seems like you have a lot to say, so by all means, Tom, please, entertain me, since I clearly don’t have anything else better to do” the sarcasm clearly evident in your tone. “You were so preoccupied with the movie and talking about the love scenes and all the places you were all about to visit, how it was working alongside Jake Gyllenhaal, that of course you’d forget me. It was as if I was never there, I felt invisible. Like I was an afterthought, it was stupid of me to think that I mattered to you. I regret flying out to see you, that is time and money I can’t take back”

“Oh stop that, don’t be dumb” he says exasperatedly.

Just as you were about to reply, you stopped in your tracks. Your pent up anger greatly affecting you and ultimately the baby too, all of your emotions consuming your entire being that you felt sharp pains running at your side. It was as if someone had ran up to you and stabbed you in your ribs. You kneel to the ground clutching the right side of your body as you hunch over in pain. Your sister notices your sudden moves and rushes to your side, she tries to calm you down, and tells you to do some deep breathing exercises but you can’t, the pain was too unbearable.

You ended up changing positions and curled yourself into a fetal position as you clutched your side. You were in agony, the pain was so excruciating that you started crying. Panic courses to all three of you. Seeing you in this state killed him. If there was one thing he hated, it was seeing you in pain and upset; and here you were, feeling both. Something was definitely wrong. He and your sister decided to take you to the hospital. He offers to drive while your sister tries to help you calm down and relax. Instinctively, he scoops you up from where you were and carried you bridal style; he carries you into the backseat of the car and buckles you up. While waiting for your sister, he quickly typed the nearest hospital address in his phone GPS, and in a matter of seconds, he got the car up and running and began his route.

You could feel yourself profusely sweating. Your body was shaking uncontrollably, assuming that you were becoming hypothermic because of this added stress, your body’s defense mechanism in complete overdrive. Your heart was racing, as you put your index and middle finger in the inner aspect of your wrist, just below your left thumb, you felt the pulsations. Your pulse was bounding, you couldn’t even count your heartbeat, it was just beating erratically.

It must be somewhere in the 150s or higher. Who knows. Baby, I hope you’re alright in there. We are on our way to the hospital. I truly hope and pray that you’re not in any distress, I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you, I don’t know what I’d do if I find out you aren’t okay. I can’t bear the thought of possibly losing you. God knows what I would do if I find out you aren’t okay. Please, baby, mommy’s begging you, please be okay, for You thought to yourself, as a few tears fell, ultimately landing on your sweater.

It felt like forever, but you finally arrived at the hospital. Tom pulled into the entrance to the Emergency Department and quickly ran in to get help. Within minutes you saw 3 people running towards the car with a stretcher. They assisted you into the stretcher safely and brought you in, Tom rushing alongside you all, matching the strides of the hospital staff and your sister in tow. Immediately you were brought into your room and you were hooked up to the monitors. More staff came in to get an IV line inserted as well get blood and urine samples for routine testing. They took off the sweater you were wearing and quickly put on a hospital gown. They realized you were expecting, so they planned to get the OB resident involved in your case.

Everything and everyone was moving rather quickly, you began to feel dizzy again. Without warning, you started to vomit. Your fight or flight instincts kicking into maximum overdrive, your body’s internal homeostasis all out of whack. You assume that this was your body’s weird way of dealing with this distress.

If there was one thing you got from this pregnancy, it was that stress plus your body was not a good mix. You got extremely ill whenever your body’s homeostasis was out of the norm. Your body’s way of dealing with the stress/situation at hand.

In the midst of your body retching, getting rid of all the contents of your stomach, you happened to muster up enough energy to look up at the monitor. Heart rate 198, Blood pressure 180/120. Holy shit. One of the nurses had hooked up an external fetal monitor to your bump; the alarms were going off as soon as it turned on, as per the monitor, your baby’s heart rate was 175. That was out of the norm; normal fetal heart rate is 120-160. How you were still awake and conscious and aware of your surroundings was beyond you. A person with those vital signs usually pass out, goes into cardiac arrest or have a stroke. They were then immediately intubated, had a foley catheter and had a central line inserted instead of just a peripheral line and whisked into the critical care unit. It was almost shocking that you hadn’t passed out or lose consciousness. You’ve seen it happen countless times, I guess you were one of the rare cases.

You end up passing out. While you are unconscious, he meets up with your sister and the doctors, your sister informed him that she got in contact with your parents and that they were on their way.

The doctors waited for your parents to arrive before leading you all into a private room to talk about their plan once all the test results come in. After discussing your plan of care, they brought him into your room, and that, at that moment, was when he took in your appearance. That was when he saw your bump, you’re pregnant.

Had it really been that long since he last saw you? So many thoughts ran rampant in his mind. Who was the baby’s father? Will he be coming to meet up with your family? Will he sit beside you and wait until you woke up? His consuming thoughts elicited the pain he worked so hard to suppress. The love of his life was having a baby with someone that was not him. His lifelong dream to marry you and start a family with was shattered; now becoming his worst nightmare. In just a short time, he would come face to face with the lucky man who now has you.

After some time, you wake up. Your family rushed to your side and held you tightly, relieved that you regained consciousness. He stood in the back of the room and watched the moment.

You were consumed with talking with your parents that you didn’t realize he left the room. He leaves and heads to the nurse’s station to alert them that you’ve woken up.

He comes in to let your parents know that your nurse was paging the residents to let them know you were awake. As he spoke, he dared not look at your direction. He maintained eye contact with your parents. As you lie in bed, you took in his image. Never in a million years did you think you would bump into him again. After all this time, he managed to stay the same. The same lanky, curly headed fool that you were once in love with. You could see the look on his face; the look of heartbrokenness, mixed with him being a little more pale than usual. He looked so hurt, so empty. Every single one of your family members felt it too. They knew that it wasn’t their business, but just like everyone else(everyone that mattered), they loved and shipped the idea of you both, and seeing the two of you apart and so broken, broke them too.

He whispered something to them and left your room.

It had been quite some time and he still had not returned to your room. Worried, you send your sister to look for him, or at least see if he was okay, or if he had left(again), without saying goodbye.

She obliges to your wish and leaves your room. About 100 feet from your room, she sees his frame in one of the chairs. He sat in one of the chairs in the hospital waiting room, his hands brought up to his face. As your sister made her way to the seat beside him, she rested her hand on his shoulder. Shocked at the action, he looks up. With flushed cheeks and red eyes, he locked eyes with hers. She couldn’t help it, it wasn’t long before she started crying too.

“How is she doing?”

“She seems okay, she’s talking to mom and dad right now. She was wondering where you went, so she sent me to find you. Are you going to go back?”

“N-no, I don’t think so. I don’t think that’ll be good for her. I think it is best that I leave, please send her my regards and well wishes; also, please tell her I send my congratulations, she’s going to be such an amazing mother. I’ve never doubted that, not in the slightest bit. She was always so good with kids” his voice quivered, the agony clearly evident.

“I know it’s hard, but please. Just go in, I’m sure she would like to see you and thank you for taking her here. What do you have to lose?”

He sat silent, contemplating his decisions.

What does he have to lose?

“Okay, I’ll go in”

Content with his answer, she nods her head.

“Y/S/N, can I ask you something? Is, is, she still angry? Is she still upset about what happened? I want to explain myself, but I don’t know if that will do more harm than good. Things clearly did not go as I had hoped it would earlier today, I mean come on, look where it landed us- I mean her, and her baby. I don’t want to stress her out any more. She doesn’t need that, she needs to focus on getting better, for herself and the baby. I am afraid to ask her, but what is she having? A boy or girl?”

“I don’t know, really. I don’t, I, I uh haven’t asked her. I feel like it’s none of my business, y’know? Like I don’t want to bring it up and upset her or something. Try and see if she’s willing to listen, you honestly never know unless you ask and try again. Anyways, she’s having a girl. We are all so excited. I swear, the baby isn’t born yet but she’s already so spoiled. I can’t even imagine how it’ll be when she’s actually here”

“Uhm, yeah, maybe I’ll ask her. I’m going to take it one step at a time”

She gets up from her seat and waits for him. It wasn’t long before they arrived back into your room.

She enters first and takes her seat right by your parents. He shuts the door and stands in his original spot.

You knew you needed to have a conversation with him, to continue with the conversation you both had before coming to the ED.

Your whole family sensed some kind of tension in the air. They figured you both needed to have this conversation, even though both parties were hesitant.

Your parents tell you that they were going to grab some dinner and needed your sister to come along with them, making up an excuse really, so that you and him were left with no choice but to talk. It was a long time coming. Well needed too.

The three of them left, leaving you and him. You could feel the awkwardness in the air.

You figured he was going to leave.

“Do-do you want me to keep you company until they return?” he finally spoke

“Uh, it’s up to you. You can leave if you want. I’ll be okay, I’m hooked to the monitors, so the doctors and nurses on the unit can keep an eye out on me. If anything happens, they have everyone’s numbers, so they’ll get in contact with them. You must be exhausted”

“Actually, I’m okay. But if you want me to leave so you can rest, I can. Maybe I’ll stop by tomorrow, if you want me to”

“I’m actually okay too. If you want to come by again tomorrow, you can. Uh, I. Uh, I, I just want to say thank you. Y’know, for taking me here”

“Y-yeah, of-of course. I’m sorry; for what I said earlier. You’re not dumb, not in the slightest”

“I’m sorry too”

“Can we talk?”

“I thought that was what we were doing?”

“I mean, like talk, talk”

“About?”

“Us. About everything”

You remained silent.

He took this opportunity to explain himself. When else was he going to have the chance to do so?

Your sister’s words replaying in his head.

“I know there are no sorries in this world can truly express how terrible I feel about what happened and what I did. I’m sorry it took me getting to the hotel to realize your absence. I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner. Sorry that I didn’t try hard enough to find you. How I’ve let you in an unknown place by yourself. Because of what I did I missed out on what was the biggest day of your life. I would have loved to have been there on your graduation day, cheering for you from the stands because I am so unbelievably proud of you. All of your hard work, blood, sweat and tears paid off. If I could go back in time and change everything, I would. I would do so in a heartbeat, because that shouldn’t have happened” he sobs.

Tears pool in your eyes as well. This was a long time coming. As much as you hated the idea, it needed to be done, for both your sakes.

“I can never blame you. That, this, is your career. This is what you’re meant to do in this life. This is your calling. Who am I to ever take that away from you? You worked so tirelessly and so hard to get to where you are now. You are so passionate in everything that you do, and that movie was no different. It definitely showed, it was a really good movie. Look, it’s in the past now, I’ve moved on. I’ve accepted it, and I’m okay.. And I think you should stop beating yourself up for what happened and carry on. Don’t be too hard on yourself” you spoke, your voice barely a whisper.

“I can’t. I just can’t” he whimpered.

Silence.

“So Y/S/N told me you’re having a baby girl. Congratulations. You are going to be such an incredible mom, I’ve seen you with kids, you are such a natural... Did you find a name for her yet?”

“Uh, thank you, yes I did. Her name is Arielle Rose”

“That such a lovely name, darling”

Darling. His favorite term of endearment for you.

“Uh, I’m sorry. It just slipped” he says, trying to save himself from the uncomfortableness.

Oh how you’ve missed that name.

“uhm, thanks”

Great, now things are awkward again. Ugh.

“So, is your boyfriend on his way?”

“What boyfriend?”

“The baby’s father, is he on his way?”

“No. He doesn’t exist”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know”

“It’s fine. Yeah no, he will not be a part of her life. I know she’ll probably ask when she is older, but we will cross that mountain when the time comes”

“I know it’s none of my business, but did something happen?”

“Just as you said, it is none of your business; but we just didn’t work out, that’s all”

Y/N, tell him the truth. He deserves to know. He has the right to know, he is the father. Even though things fell apart between you both, you need to not be selfish and not rob her of her father and his amazing family.

“I’m sorry”

“Yeah”

Just as you were about to speak, a knock caught both your attentions.

The OB doctor as well as your nurse came in. They told you that you were going to be admitted for the night for observation. They asked if you needed anything else from them before they left, shaking your head and reminded you for like the hundredth time that night that if you needed anything to press the red button in the remote and a staff would be in to assist you.

You thanked them as they proceeded out the door.

“So how far along are you?”

“6 months” “Did you have your gender reveal or baby shower yet?”

“My sister and I are actually planning my gender reveal. My parents don’t know. We are supposed to have it in about 2 weeks”

“Oh that sounds great, how are you revealing?”

“With pink balloons inside of a huge white box, after the countdown, we will untie the strings and the top of the box will open, revealing and releasing the balloons. The color theme is pink, blue and white, we are planning to have different things and foods that are pink and blue to see which one each guest thinks I am having and games where people can guess what I’m having”

“That sounds like so much fun”

“Yeah, it does. I can’t wait. In a way, I just want it to be over, this was beyond stressful trying to plan. I think I need to make a mental note of this for her first birthday party” you let out a small laugh.

He locks eyes with you and smiles.

He saw how tired you looked, and opted to pause the conversation, you needed to rest. Pleased with how your conversation went. He still had some questions, but decided that he will defer them to a later time.

He shut the light off and told you to take it easy. He told you that he would stay with you until your family came back. He greeted you goodnight and tucked you in.

You thanked him once again and began to drift off.

You woke up in the middle of the night and saw him asleep beside you. He rested his head at the foot of your bed. You were surprised to see him, you thought he would be long gone, assuming that your sister or your mom was going to spend the night with you.

The exhaustion clearly taking its full effect on your body, your eyes barely staying open, even in just that mere moment. You pulled your blanket up to your neck as you rested your head back on your pillow, welcoming your slumber again.

G’night, Tom.

_________________________________________________________

series taglist: @hollandroos @roses-hxlland @parkeret @sleepybesson @moonlightom @blueeyedbesson @unholyholland @lemondropirwin @delicately-important-trash @let-me-luve-you @your-daily-dose-of-fangirl @smexylemony @allieandcoffee @captainbuckyy @notevenenglish @infamousmany @geeksareunique @bellagrayson-wayne @a-dorky-book-keeper @crazypsychobookworm @lilya-petrichor @gemflowerrr @judemoos @chillinjules @littlebookbengal @marvelhoelland @its-the-unknownspidey @emeraldrhee-grimes @stephy-senpai @marvelismylifffe @tiya14 @andreuskystuff @soy-una-conejo @danicarosaline @youngjellyfishpolice @ellascarlettangel @wonders-of-the-multiverse @trumpettay @aestheticgaybish @ghostlytree612 @asmilinghopelessromantic @raspberrydreamclouds @seasidecrowbar @anini71 @kaylinfayezink @trashsiara @ionknowrlly @southsidespidey @julsgrc @jackiehollanderr @hollandshearteyes @imagine-addictt @madeinthemidnightmemories @iwokeupinabadmood @bobo-bush @h-oneyholland @vthenerd @justkeepdreaminganddreaming @lala-florez @mutuallynotmutual @karlitabi-rrito @crashhmycar @a-dorky-book-keeper @hollandinq @southsidespidey @kill-the-stereo @wronglanemendes @quackson606 @lovexo26 @wowiedraco @kaylathekittykat225 @popluckbih @littleraton @cannotpsd @unholyholland @ashwarren32 @parkerindustrys @euphorichxlland

#tom holland imagine #tom holland angst #tom holland one shot #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #herseries

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unexpectedcronchiness · 4 years

Text

Pt 7 i think we’re at im just vomiting ideas heck yeah more wolfstar

Based on a text “ sirius is put in an arranged marriage with a pureblood witch or it can be muggle au but with a female (he's gay in this) and remus is the wedding planner “

no warnings on this one either it just fluffy

arranged marriage, who even thought of shit like that? still it wasn't remus' place to question. He walked into the room, prepared to give his "Ok so theme ideas, what do you like, what actually looks good" speech but he stops dead in his tracks

first off, theres a man alone here

usually both partners are together

and secondly hes absolutely gorgeous

this was going to be problematic, remus rarely thought anyone was attractive, but when he did, he fell hard

the man noticed him and stood up, and held out his hand

"sirius orion black, i see you have the, ah, pleasure, of working with my family on getting the union from hell organized"

remus couldn't help it, he laughed

he'd seen arranged marriage cases before, but legally he wasn't allowed to do anything, trust me, he checked

but never were people so blatantly outright in their discomfort or annoyance

honestly it was refreshing

laughing was unprofessional and he was being paid a hefty amount of money to make something tasteful yet elegant, so he steeled his face and started his speech

-----

days passed and he found himself spending more time than necessary with sirius

he couldn't help it

at first he was just curious but then it was something more, it was intense and new. Sirius was funny, charming, kind, witty and so much more

yet there was something subtle, something dark shadowing his features

something that remus couldn't help but be pulled to

he had his own secrets of course, being a werewolf was hard enough, but then managing the top wedding planner office in the wizarding world and trying to keep it all a secret was unbearable

yet he loved it

he loved secrets and the way they kept you warm, the way you were allowed to be possessive and cautious and no one thought any less of you because everyone has secrets. It's universal and completely personal at the same time

so he held onto his newfound secret that he was undeniably genuinely attracted to this sirius orion black.

------

" i was thinking for the flowers maybe something like an acacia blossom" acacia blossoms meant concealed love, amoungst other things, but concealed love was what he was going for but it's not like he would know what it meant

yet the way sirius looked at him after he said it unsettled him

his mouth agape, eyes wide in realisation

then he said "i rather like ambrosia" shit. Ambrosia, your love is reciprocated.

shit shit shit

what was he doing flower flirting with the heir to the blacks, one of the wealthiest pureblood families in the wizarding world

and ya know, that thing how he was going to GET MARRIED And remus was supposed to be helping him

"hmm maybe white lilies" it's heavenly to be with you but, "but, you'll probably like stephanotis better" stephanotis, happiness in marriage

sirius laughed

"do i look like i'd enjoy stephanotis better? besides, women aren't really my type. How about sterling silver roses?" Love at first sight, oh merlin

Remus couldn't resist

"so what is your type then"

sirius grinned cheekily

Dr.Remelems-the fluff monsterToday at 7:47 AM

"hmm, well let's see, men for starters, in case you didn't get my extreme subtlety. Camelia" you're a flame in my heart, shit he was good

he continued

"gold eyes, dirty blond hair, that shimmers in the sunlight, incredibly sexy scars, a nice sense of humor, an understanding of flowers is also deeply important, Carnation" My heart aches for you, admiration. Oh merlin he was in deep

"don't know where you'd find a guy like that he seems impossible, and aren't you supposed to be getting married. Gardenia, white heathers" You're lovely, secret love and wishes could come true, protection

remus hoped it conveyed everything he was willing to risk for this man

he would willingly risk an affair, he would protect this man, give him everything no matter what and he'd only known him for a month

sirius, as remus learned had absolutely no control of his emotions on his face, but at least he knew that he knew what it meant

sirius feigned casualness

"let me one up you, orange blossom, peony.... stehphanotis but with viscaria?" eternal love, marriage, happy marriage, happiness in marriage but when combined with viscaria, will you dance with me, did he, was he understanding this right

unable to play games any longer remus choked out

"did- did you just propose to me in flowers?"

sirius looked bashful

"well i mean uh yeah, but uh I'd need your help in getting out of this current uh, marriage thing if you wanted to do this i know thats not a yes but it would be difficult and i just-"

Remus cut him off

"jesus merlin and morgana yes."

"i do" he said solemnly

sirius looked happier than remus had ever seen him, no shadows, no undertones

"ok so i don't know how to get out of this current ya know marriage thing, i haven't made an unbreakable vow or anything, well yet at least and-"

"Sirius you brilliant man you, you've given me an idea"

----------

It was the day of the wedding. Sirius was standing at the alter, whatser name getting ready in one of the back rooms. The flowers they had chosen, spider flowers (elope with me, sirius and remus both thought it was funny) and remus was ready, in a suit that was probably more decorative than a wedding planner needed, but little did they know, he was probably underdressed

it was his wedding day after all

Remus went over to sirius, walking intentionally down the aisle as he did. It was on purpose yes, but everyone else didn't look twice as the ceremony had yet to start. silently, he gripped his wand and cued the music.

everyone turned to face remus in shock, sirius beamed, as a man should look on his wedding day. Cries of rage came from the black family as it clicked what was happening.

walburga black began to leap up, brandishing her wand but was stopped by an invisible force keeping her to the chair, and the chair to the floor. or ya know, a sticking charm

they'd figure out how to get it off eventually and he only needed a little bit of time anyways

being a wedding planner had perks

he reached the altar and grabbed sirius' hands.

The clergyman looked shook, but also suddenly understood the vague wording in his contract, shrugged, and went on with it

if remus was being honest, he didn't remember much of what the clergyman said, he didn't remember the cries of outrage from the black family

what he did remember was the look in sirius' eyes, the smile that was so large it threatened to come off his face, the tight, nervous grip of his hands

remus remembered that most of all

remus remembered hearing sirius say i do, tears in the old saps eyes, and then he remembered hearing it from himself

screams of protest and indignation sounded like music to his ears but then suddenly he heard clapping and cheers

he turned around in shock and saw that whatserface was in the aisle, in jeans and a hoodie, leading her family in appluase

*applause

as would later be explained to the black family. Remus had not taken an unbreakable vow to marry or love sirius for ever. neither of them could promise that. but what had happened however was meridith (as he learned her name was) and sirius had made an unbreakable vow to never marry eachother

turns out meredith was undeniably gay and had a girlfriend

and so in the confusion they were wed, and the blacks could do nothing of it, for worries of risk admitting they were beanboozled by a their heir and his husband, or worse that they had made the worst match in all of pureblood history with two incredible gay queens.

yet something gnawed at remus

one day, a year later, he went up to sirius

it was time, the secret didn't feel as warm and personal anymore

instead it felt dirty and aggressive, mean, harmful

he walked up to sirius

shit he was not crying, he was not crying but he started to speak

"i-i think it's time-time for you to know- and- and i just want- i just want to say to you, i love you so much, more than anything and imsosorry and"

"honey whats the matter, is this about your uh, 'furry little problem"

remus blinked

what

the heck

sirius couldn't help but chuckle

"darling you're hardly inconspicuous, ive known since we were 'dating"

remus couldn't help it, he bawled

sirius pulled him into his arms, tenderly holding him

"hey, hey, hey shh, hey, single full bloom roses, pink rose, rose leaf" i love you, i still love you, perfect happiness, please believe me, you may hope. Remus translated these automatically and allowed himself to finally feel content

THE END

-bonus- after the whole debacle purebloods thought twice about arranged marriages and let their kids be for a while, and so meredith took advantage of this and her girlfriend and her got married, (remus was the planner, they had all turned out to be quite good friends)

#wolfstar #remus x sirius #sirius black #sirius #remus lupin #remus #walburga #walburga black #wedding planner au #arranged marriage au #au #hc #wedding #weddings #flower langage #fluff

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judgement-free-sideblog · 5 years

Text

The enemy of love is the truth

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader

Summary: They were happy just as friends, but one morning the call from an old trauma may change everything.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, history of drug use, mental health issues, cursing, angst.

This one is extremely long but I love the final result, the next chapter will be the end, thank for reading, comments are more than welcome.

■Part I ■ Part II ■Part III ■ Part IV ■ Part V ■ Part VI■ Part VII ■ Part VIII | Final ■

Part V

"And you didn't kiss, again?" Zawe said, she took a sip from her wine glass and take her hand to her forehead with exasperation. "This has been going on forever now, I'm done, Caroline you take care now"

"Don't look at me, I basically push them together what else can I do? Lock them inside my office? Trust me I have thought about it." The other woman said.

"Excuse me, I'm still here and I can hear you" Y/N said questioning why did she agree to have lunch with them in the first place, however she had chose to only tell them about the invitation to an ex's wedding and the late tea at Tom's flat and not a single thing else "And what does again is supposed to mean?"

"New year two years ago" Caroline started "I was dating that gorgeous Greek guy with the most beautiful abs I have ever seen, and everyone kissed at midnight, and what did you do? You leave the dance floor to go vomit in my bathroom"

"Oysters and champagne don't mix" Y/N said getting red remembering the night "And Stavros was only kind of hot" she add making Caroline sigh with pretend indignation.

"What about january last year?" Zawe continued "Bobby was sick and he was on call for his last movie, and you take a week off to stay at his place to help him out"

"First of all I love that dog, and I did that for him more than for Tom, and second I didn't stayed at his place" She answered knowing pretty well she was lying "I only get there super early and went out late at night, but I would have done that for you guys too"

They continued laughing and talking about nothing in particular, with the subject coming up time to time, they meant well and Y/N knew it, even if they didn't knew the whole story.

"Being honest he is as guilty as you are" Caroline said signaling the waiter to get the check. "Last year on November you were at that gynecology symposium on Madrid, and he acted like he was losing his mind until he got in to a plane to met you there, and what brilliant excuse did he give you? He said he needed a flu shot and don't trust his doctor here, also all those times he had crashed at your apartment are total bullshit I was with him the other night and he didn't have a single drop, and I'm getting tired of helping him pretend he does"

"Oh please stop it already" they were walking towards Zawe's car and she was as amused to find the truth about that obvious lie as she was exasperated by her friends "You are right ok? at least on my side. I have been childish about all of this. But if I'm honest I don't know what could I do? In the end I'm still a general practitioner from a tiny hospital and he is Tom Hiddleston"

"Well darling, he could be the sound engineer of the theater or the Prime Minister himself" Said Zawe once they were inside the car "He still is crazy about you. What you have to do is take the leap, talk about it like adults, go to the bloody wedding and enjoy yourself without thinking of anyone else"

"And for once don't run away like a scared chicken when things get personal" Caroline said happy that she finally was able to acknowledge her feelings.

"Sure... why not? By the way I been meaning to tell you something..."

The conversation fade away in other topics, a few more relevant than others, but Y/N mind was far away in the past thinking of the last time she risked all for him and how tremendously wrong it all have turn out.

They had agree he will pick her up at her place, after the most demanding shift she ever had, she took a quick shower and put on a flowy dress, and her coat, and in an effort to look more decent a pair of earrings.

She was trying desperately to make her makeup work when an alarm went off in her phone, a reminder to make a call and before she could think it trough she was already listening the dial tone, praying for him to don't pick up.

"Hi there" his voice finally said when she was about to hang up "so glad to hear you. It's everything alright?"

"Completely, how about you? Did you change your job as you wanted?" She said, now trapped in the conversation.

"I did, and them I changed it again, that's why you should call people more than once a year, otherwise you never know the full story. What's new with you?"

"I start working part time at a theater, as a personal doctor for the manager" she said getting close to what she wanted to say to him.

"Oh that's great, have you met someone interesting there? Are you dating some gorgeous Shakespearean actor... actress??" He still knew her well enough to make things easy for her to talk about.

"I do, in fact I have a date... soon, it's that ok?" She said the last a bit doubtful, she didn't want to hurt him again.

"That's amazing Y/N" David said sincerely "And relax, is not me who you should be worried about, I want you to be happy, just don't go sabotaging things like you use to. I love you girl, but if I'm honest I think you chose to be miserable even when other people try their best to make you happy"

They talked for another couple minutes and when she finally said goodbye his words kept resonating in her mind, but he was wrong, it was not sabotaging, it was self preservation, like this stupid idea of a date. She was quite sure he was trying to make her feel less ashamed for her drunken advances on him, a nice dinner, some talking so she could go on with her life thinking "It simply didn't work, but he is such a nice man"

And she hated herself for ending up in such pathetic position, thinking of how much fun tom must have had watching her making a fool of herself. She was determined then to call off the date, make a graceful scape before she could embarrassing herself but before she could called him there was a ring at her door.

He was gorgeous of course, his beard as well maintained as always and his hair combed to de back of his head in beautiful waves that she wanted to touch since the first time she saw him. He was wearing a coat over a simple dark grey shirt and jeans.

He smiled fondly at her when he saw her, there were dark circles under her eyes and he thought they looked beautiful, something refreshing about a woman who worked that hard on something that she loved.

Y/N intrigued him, she seemed to live like a mature functioning adult, but there was a childish sparkle in her eyes when she started to talk that made him want to know more about her, but then that ever present hint of sadness always refraining her to talk to much, all of which made her the most interesting puzzle.

"Something in mind you would like to eat?" He asked once they were inside his car, with his tinted windows up, he liked driving alone, but he liked his privacy more and they have proven to be an effective solution.

"Not really, anywhere you pick will be fine" she said smiling and he drove to a nice restaurant, making small talk about work, their mutual friends and the weather.

Once they arrived the valet took his keys and gave her what he thought was a meaningful almost impertinent smile.

"I really need to apologize for my behavior" She started once their food was ordered and the waiter had served them two big glasses of wine "It was inappropriate for me to act like that. I am deeply sorry"

"Don't be, we were all a little drunk. But it was nice talking to you" they ate in silence, other than, what she felt, empty mutual compliments on each others carreras. Proving what she had fear since the night before. Until he finally spoke again "I've been meaning to ask you, did you enjoy the play?"

"Absolutely, Mister Cox and Miss Ashton are outstanding, and you obviously it's an incredible play, all things considered" she said taken aback by the question and cursing herself for the last part.

"What things considered?" He asked now genuinely intrigued.

"Oh I'm sorry, I misspoke, it's something stupid actually" she said nervously trying to avoid his gaze and failing.

"Come on, I'm a big boy, I can take some criticism" he lean back on his chair and open his arms, as if he waited for a punch, his eyes still fix on Y/N.

"Ok, but do notice this is coming from Y/N the feminist doctor who spend her free time protesting and not Y/N the fan of theater and literature." She said finally looking back at him decided "I think somehow it demonizes Emma's betrayal and eventual "punishment" while it glorifies the male ego of the two men. And also Robert Down is a prick"

He opened his mouth slightly surprised and then closed his lips in a thin line and let go a chuckle, with a mild blush crossing his face.

"Auch" He said finally, "Well it's and old play... and he amm of course is not a good person, I guess if you are not familiarized with Pinter's work you may have that kind of conclusion"

He had trouble finding his words to debate her, although he was impressed with her honesty, but since it was a sensible matter he wanted to be clear, however Y/N interpreted as him trying to dismiss her statement and change the subject, which put her one step closer to anger.

"You really are that nice aren't you?" She started, with her voice cold and sharp "And I don't mean it as a compliment, but you are right. I don't know Harold Pinter's work but I do know he is factually wrong, there's no deep intricate meaning behind betrayal, in the end is quite simple, people can't make the choice of remaining truthful either to themselves or the people who they love without being bitches about it. You like to shag around no strings attached fine do that don't complain is it doesn't feel like a home, you want a successful marriage fine forget about any other bloody temptation and be decent. But I guess in the end lies are what keeps people together. Once the truth is out, love dies and so the relationship" he was astonished, however the passion in her voice made him answered to her in a similar tone, changing completely the direction he had imagine for the evening.

"Don't be absurd, that would imply people need to systematically lie in order to keep their relationships, if anything the play is a critique on those precise actions, while normal people try to have loving relationships in honesty, even when sometimes is easier to say a lie. And there's a complete difference between lying to save your arse and conceal your dishonesty, and lying to be socially functional"

"So you never lie?" She asked now completely furious of what she felt was hypocrisy.

"Everybody lies, that's the point, there is a difference in being oblivious on other people's feelings imposing your wrong personal opinions and pretend that's some moral high honesty, and being polite enough to avoid subjects that may hurt others" He said now crossing her arms, pleased with her momentary silence until she start to look for something in her purse trying to hide the hurt in her face.

"Exactly" She said finally putting a couple £50 notes on the table and looking at him with anger in her eyes "Like asking stupid women out so they don't feel like total idiots for hitting on you while they were drunk? That kind of politeness?"

"What?" He said flabbergasted finally rising his voice "That's why you think I asked you out?"

"Oh don't patronize me!" She said also rising her voice and standing up "It must've been so funny, asking a girl who is obsessed with you on a date, what amazingly beautiful act of chivalry. You know what you are? You are an entitled selfish bastard, who gets off on the world worshiping him." She took her purse of the table and put her coat back on, and before leaving she add "And men can't be feminist, you would know that if you read a book on feminist theory instead the glorified misogynistic bastards you adore"

She quickly move away from the table leaving a perplex Tom behind, but before she could exit the restaurant he started following her, reaching her just a couple meters from the valet parking station next to the restauran small planters.

"Oh this is very mature of you" he called her "You owe me an explanation"

"I don't owe you shit" He was close enough so he catch her by her wrist.

"Or at least let me take you home" he said turning her around, she rise her other hand and he prepared his right cheek for what he anticipated will be a slap, but something caught her eye and instead and she took her hand to her ear and to his surprise she change her voice to a high pitch whining, causing him to let her go.

"Oh whe is it? Where did I leave it? It must have fallen here" she started looking for something in the planters and kneeling near the fence.

"Are you having a stroke?" He asked getting down to her level "what are you looking for?"

"There's a guy with a camera hiding behind a car two meters from you" she said rapidly in a whisper, she quickly put one of her earrings in his hand and said: "Follow my lead, don't look back. Stand up now"

He did as she told him and they stand up, he was still holding the earring in his hand when she took it smiling wide, and putting it back on, and then for his surprise hugging him.

"Smile, get back inside, go to the bar, order a drink and then come back and ask for your car" she said using the proximity to whisper in his ear.

"Why?" He asked and the breaking the contact.

"Just trust me" she said between her teeth and smiling again. He returned the smile and nodded, going back in completely clueless of what was happening, in inside corner of his eye he could see the man with the camera.

He order a glass of wine, but he barely even touch it, the ten minutes he waited felt like eternity and finally he exited the place again. He give the ticket to the valet. The young man went for it immediately and he couldn't help to feel observed. When his car finally arrived and he tried to tip him the guy simply said "it's taken care of, drive safe" He nodded and get in his car not surprised to see Y/N already in the passenger seat.

He drove off and once they were a couple blocks away they looked at each other, and before anyone could talk they started laughing hysterically but it also felt cathartic.

"Care to explain what happened love?" He asked now back to his normal tone "Did you break into my car?"

"Of course not, Philip amm... the valet guy, he works half time as a medical assistant in my hospital. A couple weeks ago he told me that sometimes the waiters of that restaurant call the papers to get scoops on celebrities, and I assumed you didn't want my stupid tantrum in the first page tomorrow"

"Well no, but at least I'm glad you admit it was a tantrum. Can I know what happened?"

"Oh, the guy with the camera come asking me why you were chasing after me, I told him I made a scene in the restaurant because I couldn't find my late grandmother earrings and this handsome" She said exaggerating an innocent voice "who I didn't catch his name, help me found it, then I texted Philip to let me get inside your car, because I supposed he will be waiting for you to come out"

"That's amazing and clever" he said genuinely impressed by her story "But I meant at the restaurant"

"Oh... I had a terrible day, and I leashed out on you" she said turning red. "I am really sorry, you are not an entitled bastard, and everything I said... it was just out of place. I completely respect your acting, and I shouldn't have expressed myself that way" she apologized for all the things she have said without him interrupting her while he drive back to her place.

"Don't worry about it" he said finally smiling at Y/N again with the most candid smile he had given her yet "I'm sure other people have called me worst, just not to my face, and I do appreciate your honesty. Just one thing." He said parking the car at her door. "That's not why I asked out, and I apologize because I didn't make my intentions clear in the beginning. Nevertheless this was a fun experience"

"Said that again" she said without thinking.

"This was really fun I actually enjoyed your company..."

"No, that word 'nevertheless' sounds way more powerful when you say it."

"Nevertheless?" He said getting out of the car.

"Yeah, I actually have a tattoo that says nevertheless she persisted" she started playing with her keys in her doorway, looking pleased by the interest he show on that detail.

"You do go out protesting huh?" He said taking one step closer.

"I do, and I'm really sorry again" she said looking away and finally putting the keys in the lock.

"And again it's nothing really, so now... am I'll guess..."

"I'll see you around" she said, he kissed her on the cheek and she entered her flat, wishing to forget everything about that day.

By the time she was back at the theater next day, she was hoping to leave all behind, but everyone seemed to be obsessed with Tom's random act of kindness to a stranger that thank goodness the camera hadn't focused well.

She chose to hide inside her office the rest of the night until by the time she assumed everyone will be leaving someone knocked on her door, she opened thinking Caroline may be needing something, but she was surprised when she saw Tom standing there.

"Today it's my birthday, and we are going to celebrate, would you like to come by? I can't help to remind how you called Charlie and Zawe mister and miss, and I think they would like you" he said passing his fingers trough his hair distractedly.

"I know, yeah I would love too" She said immediately "But first, please come in, I... um... I actually got you something, it's a birthday present and also a peace offering for the way I acted yesterday" She went to her desk with him following behind her. She took something from the drawer "You are an amazing Robert, and I know you like to research your characters, I mean you probably have read this already but I thought you might like it" she give him a neatly wrapped brown package with a nice blue ribbon on top.

He opened unceremoniously with a child like expressions, touched by her gesture. And he opened his mouth in excitement and disbelief when he saw the book inside.

The Wild Swans at Coole. Other Verses and a Play in Verse. YEATS, W. B.

"Is this a...?"

"A signed original edition, yes." She said happy "I assume you have many of this but I couldn't think of anything else to give you"

"It's perfect actually" he said already carefully opening the book "This is too much, thank you"

"Your welcome" she took her purse and stand up ready to leave. "So where are we going?"

"Right right" He said standing up too. "You are gonna love this guys".

That had been the end of their would be romance and also the beginning of their friendship, but while Y/N tried on one of the multiple dresses Zewe had chosen for her the idea of trying again started to look less and less crazy, her plan was already in motion, she only hoped now that he would feel the same, and even more important than that, she prayed she wouldn't loose him in case he didn't.

#tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston #zawe ashton #charlie cox #robert and emma betrayal #betrayal #harold pinter #angst #romance #friendship #bobby hiddleston #tom hiddleston fandom #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston fluff

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blondecarfucker · 5 years

Text

Bed of Roses (1988 Special)

Roger Taylor x Reader BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Fic Summary: It's 1971. You just moved to London to study, and you find a band on a local pub after a bad date. The encounter doesn’t go the way you expect it, and neither does what follows this evening as you try to deal with loving Roger Taylor.

Fic Note: So I’ve had this story in my head for the last three weeks and finally decided to write it down. It’s completely planned. It will have 21 chapters and it’s divided in three acts: Dusk, Night and Dawn. It’s will be a bit angsty in the future, and it will most likely have some smut as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages. If this is your first time stumbling upon Bed of Roses, thank you for stopping by! The rest of the story is in my masterlist, the link is in my bio - can't put the link here or else the post will disappear from the tags.

Chapter's notes: so this is not even a real chapter??? i mean, it doesn't have a number - it's really a reallll epilogue, you really get to know what happen in the eleven years that follow the end of the story. this wasn't really on my outline - i just kept thinking about the characters cause theyre SO CUTE and DESERVE THE BEST and im an absolute softie so i couldnt help but write this. its probably a bit messy cause im tired atm but im happy i wrote this and i want to share it with you guys already. im curious to know what you guys think about it! - also, just making it clear, there's no story for a sequel, so there's no sequel coming. just so you guys know. thanks again for stopping by and reading my story and being AMAZING. im a bit rusty i guess so sorry about the size of the chapter

Words: around 2.8k

1988

You heard Roger hitting the drums as you opened the studio door.

"Hey, Y/N", Freddie said, coming to hug you. "It's your man recording", he told you, and you nodded.

"I see", you answer, and Jim comes closer to Freddie and says hello to you. You really like the way they feel at ease with each other - it just looks natural. It's been long ever since you saw Freddie so peaceful.

But Roger soon showed up in your field of vision, having just left the recording booth. "Babe, it's so good to see you", he said, hugging you by the waist. "Good seeing you too, Rog. What are you guys recording?, you ask, and Deacy answers.

"It's 'Rain Must Fall', just wrote it with Freddie", he says, as Freddie listens to Roger's recording.

"It's still not right", he says, and Roger sighs. "Be right back", he tells you, going inside the booth.

Now that you're paying attention, you realize it's latin percussion. "This is really nice", you tell Freddie, and he smiles. "Thanks, darling. How's the museum? Did it fall apart after you spent a month away?", he asked, and you laughed.

"Actually, they've been holding up quite nicely", you say, referring to the period you've just spent with them in Montreux. "They're getting used to it, I suppose", and he nods.

You and Roger have been taking turns the last decade on who's gonna spend time along with the other, but now, after you've got your PhD and was promoted to Senior Curator, your job could be done without official office hours, so you've been following Roger around a bit more - which is nice, especially when he's in Montreux, such a calm place you thought about retiring there, in the future.

"And this outfit, too, I love it. You look like such a serious business woman" Jim said, pointing to your tailleur. "I have to look the part, Jim", you shrug, and Brian laughs. "I miss your yellow Chuck Taylors days, Y/N", he says, and you laugh. "These shoes are killing me, so I do, too", you tell him.

"I won't invite you to dance, then", Freddie said, and you frowned. "Please do, Freddie. You know how I love these latin inspired songs of yours", you pouted, and Freddie laughed, extending a hand to you.

You could feel Roger's eyes watching you through the glass as you danced with Freddie. Rain Must Fall reminded you of Cool Cat, and even though the Hot Space days, in 1981 were complicated, it reminded you of an afternoon with Roger on a yacht on Lake Geneva, the two of you drinking mimosas and sunbathing as Montreux glimmed under the Riviera sun.

"God, I hate this fucking song", Roger said, sipping on his mimosa.

"It's not the best", you agreed, and he laughed.

"This fucking album, I swear to God. If it wasn't for you here, I would've dropped this", he said, and you got up to prepare another mimosa for you.

"Don't say that, Rog. You wouldn't drop the band", you said, and he sighed.

"You're right. But I would drop this album, though. This song, even - I didn't take part in anything regarding the production. I just watched, like you watch a car crash", he says, and it's your turn to laugh.

"You're so dramatic", you tell him, mixing the orange juice and the champagne. "But seriously, babe. Do you even like the songs we're making now?", he asks, and you take a sip of your drink.

"I like Under Pressure", you say, and you're happy to see his face lighten up as he laughs. "Of course you do. I'm impressed you didn't ask Bowie for an autograph yet", he said, and you laugh along. "I have to stop myself from fangirling every time he's around, you know. It's pretty hard, but I do my best not to embarass you", you told him, sitting by his side.

His sun kissed skin made his eyes even brighter than usual - like lapis lazuli on bronze.

"Like I try not to embarrass you by looking stupid when we're on one of your fancy dinners?", he asks, hugging you by the side. "Exactly", you told him, pressing a quick kiss on his lips. He tasted like orange.

As you now kept dancing with Freddie, Jim pulled Deacy for a dance too, and eventually everyone was dancing to Roger's percussion. Each had a different level of success, and you were trying to help Brian when Roger finished his part.

It made you happy to have moments like this. After A Kind Of Magic, in 1986, the band was fighting constantly - it made you sad to see such thing. Roger even created a side band, The Cross, and he worked with them for a while before reuniting with Queen for this new album.

You were always a huge fan of his solo work, but you never connected with The Cross - and you felt like he didn't, either. They never really challenged him, and anything only gets better after receiving honest feedback.

But now Freddie wanted to produce again with the rest of the band - as much as they could, non-stop. They wouldn't even tour after this album, The Miracle. You felt like Roger knew exactly why these changes happened, but he didn't share them with you. You didn't really mind - it was not only his privacy, but the privacy of the rest of the band members. The fact that he was trustworthy enough to keep his friend's reasoning behind a polemic decision private only made you love him more.

"Babe", Roger called, walking over to you. You hugged him, his known smell now more refined, cologne mixed with the patchouli and substituting the cigarette smoke - you both quitted smoking, since you heard it could be harmful for little ones.

"The kids are with their nanny, right?" Rog asked you, and you nodded.

It was 1982 when you realized you couldn't keep your breakfast - you vomited every morning, almost religiously, twenty minutes after you ate.

Roger was immediately concerned on the phone - you spent two weeks in Mexico for work, and it was only when Roger spent a weekend there at the end of your trip that he told you not to drink the tap water. So you were both convinced you had some parasite, and Roger took you to a doctor - he liked to spend time with you when you were both in London, even in boring activities, since you still lived in separate flats, always trying to take it slow - even though you felt like a teenager when you had to pack to stay a weekend at your boyfriend's house - and you considered talking to Roger about moving in together again.

The doctor soon realized there were no parasites inside you, but there was a baby - a 3 months old little boy, in fact, as the doctor confirmed after taking you two to the ultrasound room.

You could never forget Roger's face once he understood what the doctor told the two of you. He was going to be a father.

But the realization that you were going to be a mother took a little longer to hit you. It was only when you heard the baby's heartbeat that you really understood what was going on inside you - a baby. Your baby. Roger's baby.

Proof that you were together, proof that you belonged to each other, that you loved each other.

"This is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard", Roger told you, and you smiled in agreement.

Nine months later, Apollo was born.

You agreed on Apollo because you always thought about how Roger reminded you of Apollo, and it did remind you of New York, too - the Apollo Theater was a landmark only a couple dozens streets above the apartment you grew up in.

But Apollo was much more like you than he was like his dad. He inherited his dad's dirty blonde curls, but his eyes were just like yours, and so was his personality - he was very determined, liked to be alone, and a full blown nerd. He taught himself to read when he was four, and now, at age 6, he liked to read The Hobbit by himself.

He didn't speak with an English accent, oddly enough, even though he was raised in London - he spoke water like his dad, but copied your accent in every other word.

Roger would hold him and hug him and always spend time with "his little guy", always telling him how proud he is to be the father of a genius, and Apollo's cheeks would be flushed pink, just like yours did when Roger told you how smart you are.

When Apollo was born, you both agreed to move in together into a big family home, but you filled the walls with artwork and tapestry, and Roger made sure there was always good music playing - it didn't feel like you were abandoning your old selves to become parents; it felt like a natural step.

And for financial reasons - mostly to protect Apollo and to make taxes easier - you and Roger decided to get married. He tried to play the practical part, reaffirming marriage was just a title and the two of you were way beyond that, but you knew, deep down, that he was incredibly happy to get on his knees and propose.

It was a simple ceremony in 1984 - close friends and family under the hawaiian sunset, the Lana'i Island's atmosphere made you feel like you were in a dream. With a simple cotton white dress, you reunited with Roger - in a half open, white cotton button up - in front of a licensed marriage performer, and you became Ms Taylor.

Roger used any excuse to call you Ms Taylor, savoring the name on his tongue just like he did with your lips on honeymoon.

Apollo was 2, and stayed with his grandparents for a week as the two of you enjoyed your honeymoon on paradise. "It's funny how this is like, the millionth time I feel like I'm on honeymoon with you", you tell Roger, and he pouts. "If you consider honeymoon everytime we go somewhere amazing alone and keep fucking like teenagers, then yeah. But this is special. This feels more… I don't know. Official", he said, and you agreed.

And all that young love had a result - you soon found out you got pregnant again after a routine blood test. Roger was, again, the happiest man on Earth.

You felt calmer this time around - a kid and responsibilities didn't ruin your relationship with Roger the first time around, and you were actually pretty good parents.

So when Live Aid came about, you were huge - you enjoyed the many performances, but when Queen was onstage, it felt different. You could remember when, almost fifteen years ago, you saw these guys broke, rehearsing and travelling around in a van.

Now they were here, and in a day filled with performances from stars, they shined the brightest.

You don't know if it was all the emotions you felt watching them, but once you finally got home, the sun about to rise - Apollo long asleep - you sat down to prepare a warm bath for the two of you, but you felt something warm running down your legs. Your water broke.

You and Roger ran to the Hospital, and after a few hours, Artemis was born.

She screamed, not cried, once she first looked at you and Roger, almost annoyed - like she was sad she missed the show.

Artemis was a logical name choice - Apollo's twin in greek mythology - but the kid also got her strong will. She looked just like her father, big, round blue eyes and pink, full lips soon learned to express what she desired and complained when things seemed wrong in her perspective.

At the early age of three and with a reduced vocabulary, she convinced the two of you to get the smallest drum set you could find, and she tried to repeat her fathers movements on it, still too small for her tiny kit, but proud of the loud noises she made, hitting it recklessly.

Roger looked at it as if he was seeing a miracle.

The kids were raised primarily in London, but they spent some time in Montreux, when the band was recording, under their father's care, or on tour when you could stay with them - tour made the kids so confused about their whereabouts that it needed a conjoined effort - but now that the band was recording in London with no plans for long periods away, it was going to be interesting.

Apollo was just getting started in school, and soon it would be Artemis turn. They still had no dimension of their fathers - or their "uncles" - importance, but you and Roger talked about this, waiting for the day you'd have to explain your life for the kids, who you were before you were their parents.

You wondered if Apollo would think back on the time he went to dad's work and he was dressed as a woman - he couldn't recognize Roger when he was Rogerina while recording the video for I Want To Break Free until he took his wig off.

It was a better reaction than John's kids had, screaming in fear of the old, scary and tall lady that tried to pick them up.

The latest video recording was incredibly sweet, actually - it was for The Miracle, the single, and the band was going to be interpreted by 11 year olds. The kid that played Freddie was absolutely brilliant, mimicking all of his signature moves.

But it was the kid that played Roger who stole your heart.

As you watched the tiny Rog rehearse, you couldn't help but imagine Artemis hitting her drums - maybe in a few years, she'd be able to actually play something.

You also thought about Apollo, how he'd look like an even younger version of Roger if he was sitting on the stool, bouncing his curls and pouting in concentration.

You really loved the life you lived now, and when you looked back to all the drama that went between you and Roger so you could get here - two happy, fully realized people; and two great parents - you'd do it all again.

You kept thinking about it as the kid rehearsed Roger's part in the song, until you felt a familiar smell fill the air around you, and an arm snaking around your waist.

"Hello, beautiful stranger. Are you lost?", Roger whispered, his husky voice still able to give you chills.

"I am, actually. I can't find my husband, and I came here just to see him before work", you said.

"How did he get so lucky to have you?", he asks, and you turn around to kiss him.

"Actually, I'm his good luck charm", you say, pulling him closer to you.

He was ready for the shoot, so you felt bad when you broke the kiss and realized you transfered part of your lipstick to his lips.

"Shit, your makeup artist is going to kill me", you say, trying to wipe it away.

"It's fine", he says, kissing you again. "So I'm picking Apollo from school today, right?", he confirmed, and you nodded. It would always amaze you how you found your own level of responsibility, of the feared and dreaded domesticity, without losing the passion you had for each other. Taking it slow.

But now, back in the studio, you said goodbye to everyone, and followed Roger to a limo.

You always had your nights out - nights where you'd stay in a fancy hotel room just for the sake of being together in different ambiances. You two learned from your trip to Paris how it makes you more in love with each other, the new place making you fonder of what you know and love - in your case, Roger.

So when he popped open a bottle of champagne while you undressed, and once you were only in your lingerie, Roger took his own shirt off, knowing to pass it to you - a ritual, really.

You both went out, relaxed and comfortable, and enjoyed the view.

The Thames was below you, and you could see the entire city - if you tried, you could point where the bar you first met was, and Kensington Marked, and the first flat you shared. London was a huge part of your story.

"Let's make a toast", Roger said, and you nodded. "To what?", you asked, but you knew the answer.

You've been together for almost twenty years, now, so it's normal for you to know what to expect from Roger. But it doesn't feel boring - it feels like home.

"Us", he says.

Taglist:

@taylorroger-s @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @its-nessi @anamcg317 @frenchieswiftie @queen-danielle-dani-dan @minihemo @shutup-sorry @theyrealllegends @killerqueenisthebest @ashagracelove @hardy-s @fuckinghurricanesoul @secretsweetscollectionblog @mrswinterhater @11mb0 @tamtam-go92 @derptatosaur @brianandthemays @phantom-fangirl-stuff @the-hysterical-queen @rogerofmylife @notevenlxvely @discodeakyy @x1975sos @16wiishes @jennycidesstuff @partydulce @melros-e @onevisionliz

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bandomgay · 6 years

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My brain to yours pt.1 b.u

Tw: blood,gore,self harm,violence,hallucinations,slight mention of an ed

Au: hey babes this is gonna be my 5th time trying to post this and i want death so bad...however if there is any confusing things or typos or things seem to quickly paced im sorry thats just my brain babey! Enjoy...i guess

Word count: 1,894

It all started when he was about 6 years old, he never spoke ever,not that he couldn't he just wouldn't, his parents were worried about his development,however nothing was ‘wrong', he had a quite developed thinking process for a child, but it wasn't a good one for his age nor was it a normal one,no child should be so terrified of talking to people and being thought lesser of as his voice shook violently while trying to say the easiest of sentences.

he understood people to early into his young life ,he got the memo that everything was too stupid and too hard to understand so he gave up . his mother took him back and forth to hospitals and child psychologists ,his mother scared for what was to come of him could this weirdness she didn't even have a name or diagnosis for develop into something more as he grew? She thought, would he be normal? Would he be like the other children who laughed and giggled at the littlest of things? Would he be happy like them? She had decided to push her concerns into the back of head deciding that maybe he was just awkward it's okay to not fit in hes a fucking 6 year old boy maybe it's not that deep.

he was now in the 3rd grade now and teachers became more and more loud and responsive with their problems, he thought maybe whatever bad stuff they had going on at home they just needed to vent threw aggressiveness and shaking hands and restless mornings,but however it was their screams he didn't care for, he looked them in the eye wondering what he had done wrong, however he didn't care enough to continually think about it, but he realized slowly that couldn't feel anything like the red faced teacher did, he’d envy the poor mannered teachers feelings if he could, just how they could get so angry and fed up with kids who were disgusting and vile and how he never felt that…... he never felt anything at all .Now he was in the 5th grade he had to repeat the 4th grade due to staggeringly low grades and his failed attempts at homework he never seemed to have remembered. Things were getting hard to remember, so hard to remember what the teacher had said in the classroom that seemed to fade away after he was picked up by his mom and the sheer silence of the drive home and his mothers sneaking looks into the mirror with furrowed eyebrows at her son who never told her how his day went.

In school it was just so easy just to drift off in the land of dark swirls and dark worlds filled with make believe that he couldn't separate from the real world that never seemed to go away and darkness he felt comfort in his head till he heard nothing but the disgusting laugh of a teacher who had looked as if she wanted to deck him in the face ( he imagined about 3 different scenarios of how that actually could have occured, he held back a giggle and a sly smirk) as she snapped her wrinkled hands in his face “earth to brendon” he heard the aged feminine voice laced with anger repeat twice but he had failed to tune into the first reminder he was too dissociated to notice, he came too but didn't understand her reasonings of not just leaving him alone and let him rot and break free and he soon heard the fits of laughter coming from children he knew he was too weak to stop.

he wanted to do terrible things to everyone in that very room including himself, a dark desire he couldn't contain from his mind but he never followed through with these type of thoughts. he could never seemed control them he thought of them like messages being sent from an unknown source in the back of his head that had an invisible connection to someone he could see but nobody else could he dared himself if he could just pull at the cord in his head he wouldn't have those those thoughts, the figure never showed up in the same form it could be the shadows of dirty rain water coming from outside showing like a projection on the dingy beat up wall rising above him to claim a mental dominance , or the rotten stain of mold on the bathroom floor that now seemed to have a charming glow yet secretive smile or the bag of dirty clothes that sat high up on its rounded edges now smiled at him and watched him threw the night .

now it was the 7th grade and things had went to shit,it was already shit but it had gotten no better, fits of depression had left him wanting to call a hitman on himself and letting himself be cut open so all the organs in his body to be shot out of him or rip his jaw and everything behind it out of his body but he was too fatigued to think about it anymore his brain seemed to have stopped working back in the 6th grade, he could never think clearly a heavy fog on his brain he could never do much for himself he found the most simple of things he couldn't do, he couldn't pay attention, he felt dizzy at random times becoming feverish and not thinking about why because he couldn't think he thought process lessen and lessened with every passing day until all there were was thoughts of gore and death,sadness and the never ending thought of killing anyone or anything that had managed to make him want death even more.

he just continued to fade in and out of reality staring into the wall for to long or unknowingly staring at the couple of people who he thought was calling him pathetic and worthless with the contradictory voice telling him he's so much better than the disgusting people he saw and that they didn't deserve to smile they don't deserve happiness even though they’d never even spoken a word to him, they were never mean to him. he started pinching,stabbing,pulling at his hair,clawing at himself hard trying to see if he could care that he'd just hurt himself he continued to hurt himself hoping somewhere in the back of his mind he start to feel things, to show him he's real everyone sees him, but his inner self knew what he was doing he wasn't just trying to see if he was a real person he was punishing himself because he couldn't do what the rest of the real kids could do he couldnt plop himeself in a hard metal chair and take a test without thinking about what a disgusting person he was, without hearing them say he wasn't shit that his brain is mush that he couldn't understand the easy directions how he could get so angry and mad without hesitation how he could imagine killing his parents im cold blood… he stomped on his own foot,why is he thinking about this why is he thinking about this why, they creeped back up on him showing him images of his brother and sisters dead and gutted his parents choking on blood and vomit pale and dying, he hated himself for thinking these things,but if it was possible for him to be completely honest with himself he didn't care if they had died or not he just didn't have the ability to care.

He couldn't look people in the face without seeing these images of grewling faces pushed together in piles of pink and red flesh crawling into each others organs which looked rotten and distorted, why was he seeing this things these disgusting things these things… he wouldn't admit to himself that everytime he looked in the mirror he tried not to vomit he tried to hard, he bashed in the mirror bloodlying his hand, his hiss echoing in the empty bathroom he couldn't go to the nurse he couldn't look her in the eye and see her like that, besides he was on the first floor and he was too weak to go all the way to the fourth floor he knew he would pass out, he felt something pooling in his stomach it was anxiety he felt the cramping in his stomach and the salivating in his dry mouth, he vomited into the sink, he hasn't eaten anything in about 3 weeks so the pain of dry heaving for almost half in hour into the sink made him dizzy and ultimately pass out. he had now awoken to bright lights that made him nauseous and whimper, he was in the hospital again. he tried so hard not look the nurses and doctors in the eye and seeing horrific images in his mind of them dead, rotten maggot filled and bloody be he regained his ability to see the normally after a while.

“Brendon honey…” his mommy's voice was there “mommy...hi mommy” he said in a broken whisper. She had realized he never calls her mommy unless something's wrong he wasn't aware that he was, he turned to the right finding an iv carefully placed into in scarily pale arm “honey...they found you in the bathroom your hand was cut up...you where passed out what...t?” she silenced herself for a moment seconds later starting up again. “They found you in the bathroom..the mirror was broken and your hand was cut pretty deep and passed out” he mouth trembled a bit, she moved his sweaty bangs out of his forehead, he felt wetness on his skin his own uniform shirt clinging to his skin he was sweating.

He didn't feel real he didn't respond properly to what she had said he only looked away.. And said “dizzy….everything hurts…” he was so surprised he felt something but if feeling was like this he didn't want it. “I d..don't wanna feel like this..can you make it stop mommy please?!” Nani was absolutely terrified she'd never been so scared for her little boy, “its gonna be okay,sweetie...i swear..to god i swear…” in this moment if she was honest she didn't believe there was a god, no god would do this to her son, she turned around after hearing the door and hard footsteps.

“Hello ms. Urie im dr. Yakima, i will be assisting and diagnosing your son” she nodded softly wanting her son to be okay. “Hey son,open your eyes for me,i'm here to help” brendon heard a much more distorted version of what the doctor had said than nani did, but then again he was fading in and out. He handed her pills and said firmly “these are anti-nausea and pain killers i'm gonna give these to him and he will feel much much better i promise..” He was right it with his cocked up eyebrow and charming smile that sparkled with calmness and reassurance that worked its way into nani. the medication worked but not instantly. “Sit up honey..” She said softly, he followed what she said slowly with a wrecked groan and intense muscle pain however there was no rush.

#brendon urie #panic! at the disco #patd #*****mine #brendon urie imagine

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retroreaderr · 7 years

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Edward Nygma/Reader | The Perfect Crime

this is it guys this is singlehandedly THE most cheesy fic i have e v e r written. right here. you know what? i don’t even care. i love this boyo too much to care. you heard it here first guys. im gay as fuck for this boy. also yeah ive been binging gotham and i love ed sm for consistency sake let’s just assume this is like, early season 1 ed ok? ok. –🕷️💋

Knock knock.

“Ed?”

The door to the lab was flung open suddenly to reveal a rather bubbly man, who all too enthusiastically cried your name, “Good morning!”

“Good morning,” you smile back, “I figured you’d appreciate this,” you hand over his mug, a small stripe of steam rising from the coffee inside. He eagerly took it from you, grinning.

“Thank you,” he finally raised his gaze to meet yours, “Come in, please,” he stepped aside to usher you in.

“Did you analyze those blood samples for me?”

He made a small noise as he sipped his drink, and nodded slightly after setting the mug down.

“I did.”

“And…?”

He tilted his head slightly, “What can you catch but never throw?”

“Ed -”

“Come on, it’s an easy one,” he looked over at you with pleading eyes.

“A cold. But what does that -” he held up a hand to cut you off.

“Correct. Anyways, it was very interesting results, really. The victim had large amounts of dextromethorphan in his system.”

“Cough syrup?”

He nodded, “Yes, but -” he suddenly turned to sift through a stack of papers, most likely post-mortem medical reports on the victim, on one of the tables before handing it over to you, “ - He had no cold.”

“So what? He overdosed on Nyquil?”

“No, look,” he walked closer, looking over your shoulder to read the paper for a moment.

Your breathing hitched slightly when you felt his hand brush your arm as he reached out to point at a specific sentence scrawled onto the paper. You looked to where he was directing you but couldn’t read the words: you were completely frozen with him so close. He soon seemed to realize just how close he was as well, as his tone softened and his voice wavered slightly as he spoke now, “There were small amounts of arsenic in his blood.”

“So he was poisoned?” you turned your head slightly to look up at him and there was a small moment of silence as you stared at each other, only inches apart.

He broke the silence, however by clearing his throat and stepping away, though he was horrible at hiding the blush that had formed on his cheeks. He turned away then, facing one of the lab tables that was littered with various types of equipment.

“Yeah. Poisoned…It was minimal amounts though. I looked into it a bit further, there were signs of long-term exposure to arsenic in his system.”

“What kind of symptoms?”

“Oh, uh..” he fumbled trying to rearrange a few test tubes. He finally gave up, turning back to face you. He nervously pushed up his glasses before thinking, “Uh…Just…Standard symptoms. Headaches, nausea, vomiting…lung problems.”

“So…Like a cold?”

“I’d say more like a flu but, sure…Like a cold,” he agreed.

You smiled, “So the victim was being poisoned, most likely through his food or drink…Thought he was getting a cold…And then started taking the medicine, which would explain it in his system?”

“Sounds plausible enough. I wouldn’t have detected it if I wasn’t specifically looking for it, really,” he shrugged.

“Kill someone quick and easy, everyone knows. Everyone thinks it’s murder. Kill someone slowly and meticulously, no one knows. Everyone thinks it’s natural…It’s the perfect crime,” you thought aloud.

“Not my idea of a perfect crime, really,” Ed chuckled, “We still got ‘em. Guy was rich wasn’t he? Had private services? My bets are on the cook, they could’ve easily slipped the arsenic into his meals, he wouldn’t have known the difference -”

“What’s your idea of a perfect crime, then?” you interrupt his rambling.

He seemed caught off guard by the question, “Oh…I don't…”

“I’m just curious, is all.”

He looked over at you again, the curiosity in your eyes, the genuine interest you seemed to take when talking to him, it was unlike anyone else at the department. You went out of your way to talk to him, you enjoyed his stupid riddles and consulted him when you had a problem. You trusted him. You were his friend…

And yet what seemed like you just being nice meant the world to him. He was a complete mess around you; Just talking to you made his day infinitely better, and yet he still had such trouble doing it. He would stumble over his words, his heart would pound, his mind would turn to mush each time you so much as smiled at him.

“I find that the perfect crime would be committed by the perfect thief. Someone that maybe didn’t even know what they were doing, really.”

You looked at him, confused.

“The thieves that take things you can’t prove are gone,” he stared down at his hands for a moment.

“It starts off small, stealing glances, and it’s alright because you do just the same. Then you start paying attention to the little things they do, and that’s when they start to your breath away,” he took a step closer with each word, once again you were simply inches away from each other, “They steal your heart.”

You looked up at him, and you could feel yourself shaking.

“And then what happens?” you whisper closing the small gap left between the two of you. You ran your hands down the length of the lapels of his lab coat.

“Then you get back at them.”

“What…?”

He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours, gently at first until you reciprocated. You were barely able to process what was really happening, but you scarcely cared. A million thoughts raced through your mind but you couldn’t truly comprehend any of them:

Ed was your best friend! What was even happening? Of course, you had fallen for your closest companion, and apparently, he had fallen just as hard in return. He loved you back, he loved you back, he -

One of his hands made its way to the side of your neck, the other at your waist, though you could tell he was unsure about it all.

His grip on you tightened slightly as he pressed harder against you, which was (what you guessed was) his attempt to deepen the kiss. When you didn’t return the favor, he pulled away, fear suddenly taking over.

“I - I am so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I -”

“Eddie.”

He stopped talking, instead tensing up. Though the nickname made him weak he was still terrified of what you had to say.

You giggled, “I take that as your retaliation?”

He shook his head in confusion.

“Stealing a kiss. That was what you were going for, right?”

He was speechless, he had just kissed you and you were completely nonchalant about it? You had liked it, even? He simply nodded slightly, still confused.

“Ed?”

He blinked a few times before looking at you.

“Do you have dinner plans for tonight?”

He shook his head.

“Pick me up at…Say, seven?”

He nodded. You smiled, reaching up and placing a chaste kiss on his cheek before turning to the door.

“See you then…And thanks again for helping with those blood samples.”

All he could do was make a small sound, something akin to a forced Uh-huh as you walked out of the room, completely composed.

For the first time, Edward Nygma was utterly lost for words.

#ed nygma x reader #gotham #gotham imagine #gotham x reader #edward nygma x reader #ed nygma #edward nygma #widow's kiss

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upside-nwod · 7 years

Note

Yay!! You're back! Can you write something from Mike's pov about how much he appreciates his friends? This sounds dumb lol but I thought it'd be vague enough for you to do whatever you wanted with it. I trust your Suffer Brother capabilities

Um… this got a lot longer than I expected it to. Like a lot longer. And it just barely meets your qualifications? I just couldn’t stop and I don’t even know if I like it lol

Also I tried to use a Keep Reading tab but it’s not showing up for me, but is for some people? Sorry about that. I’m not sure how to fix it.

Available on AO3 here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10977084/chapters/24442917

Mike awoke in a haze, head swimming. His dark eyes stared up into a pale ceiling that wasn’t his.

Disoriented, he attempted to sit up in order to examine his surroundings but was met with a wave of nausea before crashing back down into the bed he was occupying. As soon as his head landed on the stiff pillows he felt an inexplicable pounding in his head.

Mike waited for the pain to recede into more of a dull throbbing before shifting himself slowly back into a sitting position. The white room he sat in was a tad blurry but it didn’t take a genius to realize he was sitting in a hospital bed instead of his usual bottom bunk.

Upon this realization, he became painfully aware of the IV in his right hand, as well as, the steady beeping of his heart monitor, but muffled, as if it were coming from a tunnel. But that wasn’t all.

Mike Wheeler was always warm. His mother liked to joke that when he was a baby she never needed any blankets because he provided all the heat she needed. So he wasn’t surprised that his palm was a little sweaty, but he was surprised to see a tiny, but slender fingered hand perfectly interlaced with his. It felt so natural he hadn’t even noticed it when he woke up.

He craned his neck just past his peripheral vision to find El curled up in a chair at his bedside. Her knees were drawn up to her chest with a pillow nestled on the back of the chair. However, instead of a blanket covering her, his tan jacket tucked up under her chin, exposing her socked feet.

“She hasn’t left your side since you were admitted,” Karen Wheeler announced in a whisper as she creaked open the door to Mike’s hospital room, coffee in hand. “In fact,” she continued, “I’m pretty sure she stayed awake all night to make sure you were okay. Up until the nurse checked you this morning.”

Mike looked from El, to his mother, and back to El again. His chest warmed at the sight of her, but he could see the slight worry lines still creased in her sleep. He wondered whether they were because of him or because of the hospital’s resemblance to what he thought the lab was like.

“How long have I been asleep?” Mike asked, concern growing on his face.

“You were out like a light after your tests were over yesterday,” she smiled warmly at her son. It pained her to see him hurt like this and her blood boiled at the thought of those bullies, but he was already looking better and that made her spirits brighten. “The doctors said you have a moderate concussion so you’ll be in here for another night, but you can go home tomorrow. But you can’t go back to school until Monday,” she finished.

“Where’s everyone else?” He wondered. His noticed the absence of Ted, Holly, and Nancy.

“Oh, your father is staying home with Holly since we couldn’t find a babysitter, but he wanted to be here. He called the hospital several times for updates,” his mother shook her head. “Nancy is at school, but I’ll call the office and let them know to tell her about you waking up. I believe her and Jonathan wanted to bring the boys over after school, too, if you’re up for it.”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” he said.

“Well, that’s good because I don’t think you have much choice,” Karen laughed. “It was quite the debacle getting your little gang to leave the waiting room, but the chief has a way of getting his point across doesn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Mike agreed, then his brow furrowed. “But what about El? Why didn’t he take her home, too?”

Karen Wheeler raised an eyebrow at her son. He liked to think the eyebrow was saying, “Really? You really think Hopper is gonna win in an argument against her? Please.”

The tired boy chuckled to himself and thought back the day Will returned from The Upside Down and had to stay in the hospital for the week. He remembered how bewildered he was when he realized Dustin and Lucas had fallen asleep, meanwhile his leg had been pumping away on the linoleum while he chewed at his fingers for two hours, waiting for news about Will.

But that day will always be remembered as bittersweet. While he knew that while they got Will back, they had also lost Eleven temporarily. His hand reflexively squeezed hers, as if she would disappear again if he didn’t grip her tight. With that slight movement, El’s eyes fluttered open.

She looked at him with wide, puppy-dog eyes. Tears threatened her vision, but she refused to let them fall. Her lip quivered as she squeezed his hand back.

“Hi, El,” Mike smiled.

“Mike…” El choked back.

With that, Karen decided it was her time to exit and phone Ted, who was, surprisingly, the worry wart in these types of situations, to let him know all was well. But she decided to take a few minutes before telling the nurses, hoping to give him and El some time together.

“Do you remember?” El asked Mike quietly.

“Not really,” Mike winced as he touched the bandage over the back of his head.

“Mouthbreathers,” El whispered, looking down. Anger flashed in her eyes before she looked back to the bandaged dark-haired boy with concern.

Mike’s mouth tightened at the thought of the two boys she was referring to. He knew he was in here due to James and Troy, but he couldn’t remember exactly what happened. He remembered riding next to Lucas. Dustin and Will were bringing up the rear, and Max skated between both groups, slowing down and speeding up depending on the topic of conversation. Yet he had trouble recalling El’s presence, or lack-thereof.

“Do you know what happened?” He asked. “I can’t remember if we had met up with you yet,” he said feeling let down by his fuzzy memory.

After getting her bike for Christmas, El started meeting up with the boys at one of the intersections close to the school. The gang would ride around together for a bit talking about their day, planning their next campaign, or just playing around before going to their respective homes. But Mike couldn’t seem to pinpoint exactly where the accident occurred.

El nodded in response to his question, but continued to look down at their hands. Now both her hands were holding onto his left and she rubbed her thumb across his skin like he did with her, silently wishing she didn’t have to think about Mike getting hurt again.

Tears welled up in her eyes when she thought about the way his head smacked the pavement. How he hadn’t responded when Lucas shook him even though his eyes were open. Her breathing hitched when she remembered how he had vomited into a bag in the back of Hopper’s blazer.

“I don’t really remember much…” Mike said to himself, trailing off.

El’s head snapped up instantly and her caramel eyes met his inky ones. He recognized the fear showing itself on her face and immediately regretted opening his mouth. He regretted it even more so when she shut her eyes tight and rested her forehead on their interlocked hands.

He struggled to find the right words to comfort her. The only thing he could manage was stuttering, “I’m okay, though,” in a small voice.

El looked back up at the pale boy in the hospital bed and whispered.

“Promise?” She said.

“Promise,” Mike yawned.Without thinking, he scooted over on the bed and made room for El. He let go of her hand to pat the bed, inviting her to lie with him, hoping she would understand. She eagerly took the hint and scooted onto the bed next to him. It looked tight for two people, but they were relatively small kids so it wasn’t too bad. Besides, they enjoyed one another’s close proximity.

“I’m still kinda tired though and my mom said you didn’t sleep last night,” Mike continued.

El shook her head and looked down. “They hurt you,” she mumbled. “I was… worried,” she finished as she struggled to find the right word.

“Well,” he paused thinking of what to say, “thanks for making sure I was okay,” he smiled at her

With that, El gave him a tiny smile before nestling her head into his shoulder. While she was falling asleep, Mike reflected upon his friendship with the quiet girl who rested next to him.

This girl was one of the most selfless people he had ever met and she probably didn’t even realize it. She saved her friends and sacrificed herself without hesitation. But she still had so much to learn and Mike couldn’t wait to teach her.

Around 3:45 there was a commotion outside Mike’s hospital door. It swung open as four small bodies invaded the space. Lucas, Dustin, Will, and Max all swarmed the bed. They were inclined to envelope him and El a huge group hug before Jonathan and Nancy chimed in shouting at them to stop in unison.

The kids skidded to a halt at the edge of the bed. Mike and El were both awake now and well rested. Mike edged himself up a bit and El followed suit.

“Dude! We have to tell you what happened to Troy at school today,” Lucas said eagerly.

“Yeah, Max had this incredible idea,” Dustin grinned.

“It was nothing really. They had it coming,” their ginger-haired friend shrugged.

Mike smiled at his friends, grateful for their lively presence in the drab hospital room. He looked over at Jonathan and Nancy and thanked them with his eyes for bringing everyone and for staying to hangout with them.

“Wait, wait,” Mike held up his hands. “First I need you guys to tell me what happened in the first place. I don’t really remember anything. I just remember falling off my bike and I could hear Lucas saying my name, but I couldn’t see anything.”

Everyone was slightly taken aback by this news. Nancy spoke first.

“Wait, Mike…” she paused. “Are you saying you really don’t remember anything about how you ended up in here?”

“Not really…” Mike responded.

The gang went on to describe the events that transpired, in detail, to jog their leader’s memory. Apparently, the group had made it to the intersection they meet El at in town when they all started getting pelted with rocks by none other than Troy and James. While El could’ve stopped the rocks with her mind, her friends made it very clear when she returned that she was not to use her powers out in public unless they were sure no one else was around.

Normally, the kids would stay at the corner for awhile and chat before riding somewhere, but under the circumstances, they did their best to get the hell out of their as fast as they could.

They picked up the pace and pedaled away from their assailants but not before Troy knuckle-balled a full-sized stone and pegged it right between Mike’s bike spokes. He had been bringing up the rear making sure all of his friends were already moving towards safety.

When the rock hit, it jammed up Mike’s front tire causing him to flip over his handle bars and land hard on his back. The back of his head hit the pavement with a dull thud, his fluffy hair doing nothing to break the fall.

His friends whipped their heads around once they heard the crash of metal on pavement. It took El less than a second to dismount her bike, not caring if it was damaged by her recklessness, and get to Mike.

“Mike,” she whimpered, kneeling down in front of him. She held a hesitant hand out over his head, afraid to know what would happen if she touched him. Then she saw it; a small trickle of blood coming from where his head lay. It crept out from behind his sweaty head and moved like a slug down the pavement. Any and all rules were suddenly out the window.

Eleven stood at once and faced the attackers who were now holding their stomachs in an effort to calm their hysteria over “frog-face’s” landing.

She lowered her head slightly and did her best to concentrate on the boys despite the overwhelming fire that burned in her stomach. Then, the bits of stone and pebble around her began to shake, slowly at first, as if they were vibrating. Gradually, they picked up speed before rising up to eye level with her.

As the rocks glided up from the ground, Troy and James were completely shocked out of their stupor.

El’s dark eyes focused on Troy specifically and she knew he recognized her. Though her hair had grown out into short curls now she could tell, by the fear in his eyes that he remembered the quarry.

Before the bullies could scurry away, she released the rocks in a flurry of activity. Whether El’s intentions were simply to harm them, or she was still distracted by the unconscious boy behind her. The debris flew forward with such force it’s a wonder the boys across the street weren’t killed. The rocks impaled windows, set off car alarms, and would surely leave rough cuts and bruises on their attackers.

James’ jeans were shredded at the knee caps and he was crawling away to safety. Troy squealed as a stone, as flat and sharp as a dagger, cut across his shirt sleeve exposing the blood that now ran down his arm.

The flurry ended just as soon as it began and sure enough the two boys were rushing down the street, terrified. El turned back to Mike who was still on the ground being tended to by Lucas.

“Then we called the police and Chief Hopper brought you here himself,” Lucas finished.

“He said it was because pizza delivery guys are even faster than ambulances around here,” Dustin laughed.

“Wow…” Mike was at a loss for words. “El, I can’t believe you did that!” He exclaimed.

El simply shrugged her shoulders.

“Oh come on, dude,” Max said, playfully shoving El’s arm. “You totally kicked their asses.”

”I swear she almost killed Troy.” Will remarked. “Max was the only one who could calm her down,“ Will smiled at her and Max grinned sheepishly at the compliment adding her own comment about them being complete wastoids anyway.

“It was so cool,” Dustin pointed out.

As the excitement lulled, Mike finally asked. “So what happened to them at school today?”

To no one’s surprise, Max was quite the prankster. Immediately after the gang left the hospital the night of the incident, they went to their respective homes and they got straight to planning their revenge.

The plan was simple. Max would be the distraction. Her fiery hair and tomboyish style made her easy to pick out in a crowd and made her an even easier target for Troy’s bulling. Lucas would construct “the surprise.” Will would break into Troy’s locker during a “trip to the nurse” and hide the device. Dustin was in charge of the pudding.

Revenge was set for lunch, that way there would be more witnesses. The process was easy enough. Lucas had reconstructed a smaller version of their volcano that won them second place in the science fair a few years prior. It was made out of a two liter, baking soda, and a whole lot of rotten eggs.

Max had “accidentally” tripped Troy, causing him to freak out on her. Consequently, he was late for class and unable to get to his locker before lunch like usual. She knew if he got to his locker then, that he wouldn’t return to it for the rest of the day.

Will and Dustin slipped out of history class easily. Will ad perfected the art of looking sick and Dustin was his “buddy” to make sure he got to the nurse okay. Once the two liter was in place and set up, they waited for lunch.

Will, armed with Jonathan’s camera stuck his little head around the hall corner to make sure Troy was at his locker. The others followed suit, all gripping the wall tight in anticipation.

They watched as Troy lifted the tiny handle to his locker and Max shouted, causing the bully to turn around. Immediately, the two liter fell from the top of the boy’s locker. The pressure inside the bottle was so great that as soon as it hit the ground, it exploded.

The smell of rotten eggs flooded the school and soon everyone was rushing into the hallway to see what happened. There, in all his glory, stood Troy. Smelling like absolute shit, with bubbling pudding staining the back of his trousers, and the wall of lockers behind him.

“Troy shit himself!” Dustin screeched with laughter.

Soon enough, the entire hallway was in tears, even some teachers had to stifle their laughs.

The hospital room erupted in laughter. Even Nancy and Jonathan had to hold onto one another in support. Finally, Jonathan reached into his bag and handed some photographs to Will.

“Is this why you asked me how to use the dark room in the high school?” Jonathan laughed.

Will nodded, grinning.

“Here you go, Mike. I thought you might want some pictures of ‘the big event,” the younger Byers boy joked as he handed them to their bed-ridden friend.

Upon seeing the pictures, Mike started laughing again. His face grew redder and soon enough, he was laughing so hard he was gasping for breath and holding onto his gut.

He may be bullied by Troy, and it may even get worse when he returns to school. But he has something Troy never will; the love and support of great friends like these, even if their methods of being there for one another are unconventional. Like believing in monsters, jumping into quarries, or building the ultimate stink bomb.

#stranger things #stranger things fic #my writing #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #long post

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