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back2bluesidex · 4 months ago

Text

Slide - The Consequences - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 2k+

Summary:

"I barely make it down the stairs without panic Woah, I won't let it set me off"

Alternatively,

You are no different than the cigarette between his lips - half-burnt and waiting to be turned into ashes bit by bit with time.

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Warnings: Extreme angst. I repeat EXTREME angst. One very triggering concept (I'm not mentioning what since it might spoil stuff) but I have tried to keep it as implied as possible.

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)

Taglist requests are closed for now

A/N: This might break your heart because this is the angstiest chapter yet.

Read the next chapter

“Are you sure you don’t want to add anyone?” Hoseok asks for what feels like a thousand times. Everytime he asks this question, you get a sharp reminder of how you have no one to add as your emergency contact, how you are completely deserted from the rest of the world and how it’s no one’s fault but yours.

You nod your head in affirmation. To dim the helplessness in your eyes, you smile a little.

But Hoseok is not convinced as it seems, he only sighs harder. The pen in his hand fall on the patient chart as he intertwines his fingers and looks at you as if he is trying to read your troubles out aloud.

You don’t like it. You don’t like the way he understands you are nowhere near being mentally healthy for motherhood.

“Y/N?” he calls you firmly. The lack of any formal suffix or prefix shocks you momentarily. “You really don’t want to let the father know?”

You suck in a deep breath. You want to let Yoongi know. You of course do. You want him to be happy, you want him to say “let’s do this together”, you want him to love you back more and more and more and more.

But you know, this is hardly possible even in your wildest of dreams.

“He’s happy with the person he loves. I- I don’t want this baby to look like an excuse to come between them. Also…” Marrying, having kids - all these, freaks me out. Yoongi’s words ring in your head like a loud alarm, threatening you to go deaf at any given moment.

“Also?” Hoseok urges you to continue.

“Nothing.” you give him another weak smile.

He sighs again. Probably he, too, is done with you and your nonchalant stubbornness.

“In that case, I am enlisting myself as your emergency contact.” He takes his pen in his fingers again and starts putting down his number in your chart.

Your eyes go wide, “but will that be okay? I mean-”

“This is okay. Don’t worry. We usually do this in exceptional cases.” Hoseok gives you an assuring smile.

“Thank you.” you mumble, embarrassment eats you away.

“That’s alright, Y/N. don’t forget to take your meds and eat a lot of fruits. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“And also, just so you know, excessive mental stress is harmful in earlier stages of pregnancy.”

Your chest tightens.

“Okay.”

You usually keep your personal cell silent. Because there is simply no reason not to.

No one is going to call you and mull over why you aren’t picking up your calls and if anything bad has happened to you or not.

Not even your mother. She has far more important responsibilities than you have ever managed to be.

You have a few contacts and a group chat with your high school friends, which you check occasionally.

That is why your heart threatens to beat out of your chest when you see unread notifications on the surface of your personal phone, that too, from Yoongi.

He had only messaged you a few times before in this number and all of those were barely a sentence.

But today he had sent you not one or two but a total set of five different texts, which read:

Yoongi (15:30): “I heard you are out with an emergency again?” Yoongi (15:36): “What is it, Y/N? Is something seriously wrong?” Yoongi (15:38): “Please, let’s talk.” Yoongi (15:50): “Will you please stop ignoring me?” Yoongi (16:05): “I will be waiting for you at the terrace. If you can, come before 5.”

Your eyes close as you leave a loud exhale out of your mouth. For a moment you question your decision of coming back to the company and make up for the time you were out. You could have just taken a sick leave. Or maybe if you checked your phone half an hour ago, you would have avoided this whole ordeal.

But right now you are in the parking lot of the building and you will have to go inside.

And you know very well, once you are inside, the invisible threads of your body that are connected to Min Yoongi will start pulling you towards the terrace.

It’s 4:24 now.. So he is still supposedly waiting at the terrace.

Maybe Yoongi is right. You should talk to him. What will you say, though, you don’t know.

Or maybe you should just listen to him, as always, let him do the talking and see how his speeches have changed since the last time, since the time when both of you were alone.

It’s only you, who is alone now, who is troubled.

You have always loved Yoongi’s side profile, the soft slope of his nose, the half crescent of his lips, but then again, there’s hardly anything about Yoongi you have not not loved.

However, right now as you watch him in the glow of the setting sun, with a half-burnt cigarette in between his lips, you wish you wouldn’t have loved him so much.

Because, now, you are no different than the cigarette between his lips - half-burnt and waiting to be turned into ashes bit by bit with time.

But can you though? Your life is not only yours anymore. Your life is now intertwined with another living mechanism and you are far too lost in your head to be prepared for it.

Do you really want the baby? Or do you just want to keep a trace of a fleeting thing that Yoongi had for you?

If it’s the second then isn’t it unfair for the unborn life?

Will you be able to love it when you can’t even love yourself? When you can’t associate anyone else with the word ‘love’ other than Yoongi himself?

“Hey. you came..” Yoongi’s voice pierce through the dark clouds of your thoughts. His words are laced with doubts, there is a frown in between his brows and now that he is facing you completely, you can see bags under his eyes.

You don’t even want to think about what's keeping him up at night.

“You wanted to talk.” you finally start walking towards him with legs so heavy that it feels as if your body will fall over their weight.

Yoongi crushes his cigarette under his shoes, like you have let him crush your hearts in those pretty hands of his.

Once there is no smoke lingering in the air, you step near his vicinity.

“Yeah. but the way you have been ignoring me, I didn’t think you would come.” there is a hint of hurt in his voice.

You don’t reply anything, rather you let your eyes get lost in the maze of concrete ahead, tall buildings aspiring to touch the sky but failing regardless.

From your peripheral vision you can see Yoongi stepping closer to you, opening his mouth to say something and then closing it again. He probably shuts his eyes for a brief second then opens it with determination burning in them.

“Y/N, what's wrong? I heard you have been taking leaves for regular checkups at the hospital? Are you… are you hurting?” Yoongi speaks with one of those soft tones that he hardly uses for anyone.

It’s not the first time he is using it for you, but it sways you a little anyway.

“I am fine, Yoongi. But I don’t understand what is up with you? Why are you suddenly so worried about me? Why are you suddenly caring as if… as if I mean something to you?” you ask him calmly, waiting for a valid answer.

“I have always cared about you.”

“But that was when we were- we were sleeping, right? Now you don’t have any obligations towards me. So please. Please stop confusing me. Please stop making me a fool.” you let a lone tear escape from your eye. This time doing nothing to stop it.

“How is this even confusing, Y/N? Friends care for each other. Don’t they?” Yoongi’s voice weaves and you don’t know why.

You chuckle dryly, “sadly enough, you are not just my friend. I am in love with you and you know that too.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen. He takes a tentative step away from you as if staying near you will turn him into a stone; and that breaks your already broken heart even more.

“Y/N- I-”

“I know. I know you don’t- You don’t have to. I just- I am a fool. I am sorry.” Now you are sobbing uncontrollably. Your eyes give out after holding onto your tears for a year.

Yoongi takes a step towards you, holds you by your shoulders but now his touches burn. Your body burns under his fingers and you want to run away - run away as far as possible.

“Y/N” his voice trembles yet again.

You hastily wipe your tears with your sleeves and run away in the opposite direction towards the flight of stairs.

He calls your name to stop you but doesn’t come running behind you. You note that.

Yoongi will never chase you. You are not Gyuri after all.

Once you are half down the stairs, you sit down, try to control your breathing, convince yourself that it’s not good for the baby.

The baby. The baby. The baby.

Should you not tell Yoongi about the baby? At least inform him? And then he can decide if he wants to accept it with you or leave it behind too? Just like you?

But this is not yours alone. He came to you that night and left a life inside you as an aftermath.

You stand up, deciding to take a shot, not for you but for the unborn life, which deserves the equal part of attention from its other parent too.

If there are consequences. You will face it all.

Climbing up the stairs, as you take a few steps towards where you left Yoongi behind.

You see him again.

But this time, he is not alone. He is with Gyrui, who is holding on to his body so tightly as if her life depends on it.

Their lips are molded with each other.

Her fingers are lost in his dark locks, his hands are placed on her side as if he is not sure what he is doing.

You stand there.

You stand there watching them numbly. And when you decide to turn and leave, you have nothing left inside of you.

Your body is now a shell of something that looks like you.

You decide to take the stairs all the way down until your legs give out.

Your back slides down the wooden door of your bedroom.

You let out a thunderous scream and that is closely followed by wailing.

You cry. You cry for all the times you have loved Yoongi. You cry for all the times he didn’t even look at you. You cry for the time when Gyuri came back. You cry for the time when Yoongi left that night. You cry for today when he clearly chose Gyuri over you even when you knew this was your destiny.

You cry because Yoongi can’t be yours and today finally ends a lot of things.

You don’t know for how long you cry. But all the tears have left you feeling weary.

You climb on your bed and drift off to a slumber.

And you dream.

You dream of yourself, and Yoongi and a baby hand that’s holding his fingers. Yoongi is smiling, he is happy.

Then you dream of a big wave, drowning you - Yoongi and the hand of the baby have disappeared.

When you wake up, your body is drenched in sweat, so much so that even the back of your thighs feel wet.

The pain in your body is piercing.

But when you manage to sit up - you see a pool of blood soaked in your clothes and sheets.

The last trace of Yoongi that you were trying hard to preserve, is gone too now.

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awkward-walking-potato · 6 months ago

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hey hi hello id like to ask if you do male reader or gn reader...;;,,,, specifically for your writing about kurt,, i am so whipped for him but also very much a guy and would make a request if you do male reader (if not ill ask elsewhere so dont worry if not x)

Saved by Nightcrawler

The mission had gone sideways faster than anyone could have predicted. What was supposed to be a simple reconnaissance in a remote facility turned into a full-blown fight for survival. The enemies—mutant-hunting sentinels—had arrived out of nowhere, their red eyes glowing with malicious intent as they targeted the team.

The squad was outnumbered, scattered across the facility. Amid the chaos, [Y/N] found himself cornered, an enormous sentinel bearing down on him. The machine’s arm raised, a deadly energy beam charging up in its palm. Time seemed to slow as he braced himself for the worst.

But just as the beam fired, there was a sharp BAMF and a puff of smoke. In the blink of an eye, [Y/N] was snatched from the sentinel's path, reappearing a few feet away with a distinct sulfuric scent lingering in the air.

"Kurt!" [Y/N] gasped, heart pounding in his chest as he realized who had saved him. Nightcrawler stood beside him, his hand still gripping [Y/N]’s arm, his golden eyes fierce with determination.

"You alright?" Kurt asked quickly, his voice edged with concern.

"Yeah, thanks to you," [Y/N] breathed, still shaken but relieved. Before he could say more, Kurt teleported again, taking them to the relative safety of a nearby corridor.

"Stay here," Kurt ordered, his voice firm but gentle. "I’ll be back."

[Y/N] nodded, though every instinct in his body screamed at him to follow. But he knew better—Kurt was fast, agile, and could get in and out of tight situations better than anyone else. If anyone could handle this, it was him.

Still, the minutes that followed were excruciating. The distant sounds of battle—explosions, metal clashing against metal, and the unmistakable BAMF of Kurt teleporting—echoed through the facility. [Y/N]’s mind raced with a mix of fear and concern, hoping Kurt was okay.

And then, suddenly, the noises stopped.

Unable to stay put any longer, [Y/N] bolted from his hiding spot, running through the corridors, his heart hammering in his chest as he called out for Kurt.

When he found him, his breath caught in his throat. Kurt was on the ground, a deep gash across his side where the sentinel’s beam had clipped him. He was breathing, but barely, his usual vibrant energy dimmed as he struggled to stay conscious.

“Kurt!” [Y/N] cried, dropping to his knees beside him. Kurt’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice, his golden gaze unfocused and pained.

“Sorry,” Kurt rasped, his voice weak. “Didn’t… didn’t get out in time.”

“Don’t talk,” [Y/N] said quickly, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. He pressed his hands to Kurt’s wound, trying to staunch the bleeding, but it was bad. They had to get out of there—now.

[Y/N] fumbled for the comm device on his belt, calling for an emergency extraction. But he knew it would take time, and time wasn’t something Kurt had a lot of right now. Desperation gripped him as he realized there was only one thing he could do.

“Kurt, I’m going to get you out of here,” [Y/N] said, his voice trembling slightly. “Just hang on.”

Kurt’s eyes met his, and he managed a faint smile. “Don’t worry… I trust you.”

Kurt’s words gave [Y/N] the strength he needed. He hoisted Kurt up, supporting him with one arm while keeping pressure on the wound with the other. With every step, he could feel Kurt slipping further away, his breathing growing more labored. But [Y/N] refused to let him go—not after Kurt had saved his life.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally reached the extraction point. The jet was already there, and [Y/N] quickly got Kurt inside, shouting for the medical team. He didn’t let go until they pulled Kurt from his arms, rushing him to the medbay. Even then, his hand lingered on Kurt’s for just a moment longer.

Hours later, [Y/N] paced outside the medbay at the mansion, his thoughts a chaotic mix of fear and worry. The mission was long over, but the image of Kurt lying there, bleeding, refused to leave his mind.

Finally, the door opened, and the medbay doctor stepped out. “He’s stable,” she said, and [Y/N] felt the tension drain from his body. “He’ll need rest, but he’ll be okay.”

“Can I see him?” [Y/N] asked, his voice raw with emotion.

She nodded, and [Y/N] quickly slipped into the room. Kurt lay on the bed, his blue skin standing out against the white sheets. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady but shallow. [Y/N] walked over, pulling up a chair beside him, and sat down.

As if sensing his presence, Kurt’s eyes slowly opened. When he saw [Y/N], he smiled—a tired but genuine expression that made [Y/N]’s heart ache with relief.

“Hey,” Kurt whispered, his voice still weak.

“Hey,” [Y/N] replied, his voice thick with emotion. “You scared the hell out of me, you know that?”

“Sorry,” Kurt said, though the playful glint in his eyes told [Y/N] he wasn’t too sorry. “Guess we’re even now, huh?”

[Y/N] chuckled softly, though tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

There was a long pause as they just looked at each other, the weight of everything that had happened hanging in the air. [Y/N] wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in his throat. Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke.

“Kurt, I…” He hesitated, the words still feeling too big, too important. But he pushed on, knowing he had to say it. “I was so scared I was going to lose you today. I didn’t realize… just how much you mean to me.”

Kurt’s eyes softened, his expression tender as he reached out to take [Y/N]’s hand in his. “You mean a lot to me too,” he said quietly. “More than I can put into words.”

[Y/N] squeezed Kurt’s hand, his heart pounding as he leaned in closer. “I don’t want to keep pretending,” he confessed, his voice trembling slightly. “I care about you, Kurt. A lot.”

Kurt’s breath hitched, and for a moment, [Y/N] thought he might say something, but then Kurt simply closed the distance between them, his lips brushing against [Y/N]’s in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle, almost shy, but it carried all the emotions they had both been holding back.

[Y/N] kissed him back, pouring all his feelings into that one, tender moment. When they finally pulled away, Kurt’s eyes were shining with unshed tears, and [Y/N] knew his own eyes were just as bright.

“Can I kiss you again?” Kurt asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

[Y/N] smiled, leaning in to capture Kurt’s lips once more, this time with more confidence, more certainty. The kiss deepened, [Y/N]’s hands gently cupping Kurt’s face, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his fingertips. Kurt kissed back with the same intensity, his tail wrapping around [Y/N]’s waist, pulling him closer.

When they finally parted, [Y/N] rested his forehead against Kurt’s, both of them breathing heavily, their hearts racing in unison.

“I love you,” [Y/N] whispered, the words coming out easily now, as though they had been waiting to be spoken.

Kurt’s smile was radiant, his eyes filled with love and affection. “Ich liebe dich,” he whispered back, his voice full of warmth and sincerity. “I’ve wanted to say that for so long.”

[Y/N] pressed a gentle kiss to Kurt’s forehead, his heart overflowing with emotion. “You saved my life today,” he murmured, his fingers lightly tracing Kurt’s cheek. “But more than that… you’ve saved me in so many other ways.”

“And you saved mine,” Kurt replied, his hand still holding [Y/N]’s tightly. “In more ways than I can count.”

They stayed like that for a long time, just holding each other, savoring the warmth and comfort of being together. The fear and uncertainty of the day melted away, replaced by the steady, reassuring beat of Kurt’s heart beneath [Y/N]’s hand.

As the night settled over the mansion, [Y/N] knew that this was just the beginning. The beginning of something beautiful, something they had both been waiting for. And as he held Kurt close, feeling his breath against his skin, [Y/N] couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

#marvel imagine #x men imagine #kurt wagner oneshot #kurt wagner imagine #kurt wagner x reader #kurt wagner #nightcrawler one shot #nightcrawler imagine #nightcrawler

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liauditore · 5 months ago

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My family is still staying in half of the church that wasn’t affected by the bombing because there is nowhere else to stay other than tents. They are limited to one small meal a day and one shower a week. They are sleeping on the floors, but no one can sleep since there is bombing everywhere around them. Even when there is no bombing, they can still hear the loud buzzing sound of the military planes above them, which would keep anyone who hears it awake. Along with everything, My grandma has diabetes and osteoporosis, so she can’t walk. She has to take her insulin medication along with many others; however, she has run out of many of her medications.” Am on my knees requesting for donation. Target $450

Hey tumblr user furryreviewearthquake, how come part of your story is lifted directly from this gofundme that isn't mentioned anywhere on your blog or in the ask you sent?

In fact, instead of linking any gofundme at all, your link directs to a paypal.me under the name "Alice Simatei" -- a little strange too that you're only asking for under $500 too, when the supply for insulin has almost run out in Gaza.

Oh and the fact that you have the exact same (stolen) story as another blog going around asking for the same amount of money, which links to another paypal under "Ronald Mukoya"

And the fact that you have used the same story before on multiple other accounts, and have even been called out for lying in the past. In fact, you've been called out multiple times. Even by 90-ghost. Yet you still continue to take advantage of people's kindness as well as the real genocide and the real people trying to help their families.

I understand that people who turn to scamming are usually those under dire circumstances themselves, however your extensive lying and disgusting appropriation of the genocide takes away any sympathy I could've held for you. All the words I have left for you go against my morality.

Please support the real fundraiser this person is leeching off (they're 10k away from their goal!)

and please report both this user and their other blog. They have made many that have been banned in the past and I suspect they will return, so be vigilant and remember to keep boycotting and supporting real fundraisers.

#asks #scammers #i fucking hate scammers i hate scammers i hate scammers

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miserable-homo-momo · 7 months ago

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DO NOT SUPPORT/DONATE/SHARE TO THIS PERSON, THIS IS A SCAM!!

Do not support this account, I repeat. I'm getting sick of scammers coming towards my account and asking me to donate taking advantage of others. This person copied and pasted this ACTUAL palestian fundraiser from GoFundme.

GO HELP JUDY (The actual fundraiser) INSTEAD OF THIS SCAMMER PLEASE 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

And also other palestians' families that need our help !!

Judy (og) gofundme link 💗 :

Honourable mentions :

Baha's Family 🍉 :

Her gofundme >

Her tiktok account >

https://www.tiktok.com/@save.our.lives4?_t=8oe3TV11fla&_r=1

Dyala Al-Madany

Their gofundme 🌟 :

Their tiktok acc

https://www.tiktok.com/@4butterflylife?_t=8oe44W1Kjf0&_r=1

MOHAMMED ALZUMAILI 🌹 :

His tiktok account

https://www.tiktok.com/@mohammedzakaria647?_t=8oe4HZH9rAg&_r=1

Elham's family 🏨 :

Her tiktok account

https://www.tiktok.com/@elham.gaza97?_t=8oe4UdDZI1f&_r=1

If there's any mistakes with the links, please tell me 🙏🏻

#bot awareness #palestine post #palestine #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #free palestine #i stand with palestine #save palestine #palestians family #gofundme #gofundme palestine #🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸#free palestine 🇵🇸#i stand with palestine 🇵🇸#free gaza #free 🇵🇸

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crazilily · 5 months ago

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^ scammer. not even sure if ive seen an insulin crowdfund that isnt a scam at this rate.

but the text from this ask is lifted from someone who's actually crowdfunding to help get their family out of gaza. more info on that here.

they're very close to their goal, so give them the time of day instead

#furryreviewearthquake

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zndr315-blog · 8 months ago

Note

This person is a scammer, as documented here, here, here, and here.

This is the real fundraiser this person stole their story from:

Here are some more legitimate fundraisers you can donate to as well:

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alj4890 · 2 years ago

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A New Kind of Intimacy

(Trystan Thorne x F!MC) in a Choices Crimes of Passion drabble.

Here you go, @lexicook74-blog Sorry this request took so long. I have had several family emergencies pop up.

Rating: G

Masterlist

"Hey." Cameron wheezed on her way inside the main office.

"That didn't sound like your normal greeting, Detective." Trystan teased. "Rough night?"

"Kinda. I got caught in last night's storm and couldn't find a cab." She coughed.

Trystan's warm smile turned into a thin line.

"And just what were you doing last night out in the storm?"

Cameron missed the hard edge tinging his velvety voice.

"Luke called with some more info he was able to dig up on that Rothschild case. Seems Mrs. McNair likes to frequent a particular bar down on Water Street." She sniffled, then blew her nose.

She coughed some more then searched her pockets in vain for a cough drop.

"Why didn't you call me?" He asked, his tone growing more irritated the longer he observed her.

"It was late and more of a spur of the moment check. I got caught in the rain while searching for a taxi."

"You should have called me, even if it was to pick you up." He grumbled.

"And disturb your beauty sleep?" She teased. "I was fine. Remember, I was doing these types of things before I got stuck with you for a partner."

He frowned when she shivered and pulled her jacket closed.

It was a sunny day with a mild breeze blowing. It was nowhere near temperatures that could cause the type of shivers she seemed to be fighting.

Trystan reached over and placed the back of his hand on her forehead.

"You have a fever."

Cameron snorted. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not." He argued.

"I promise I am." She reached for the case file on her desk. "Now, I think we should--"

"MAFALDA!" Trystan yelled out.

Their boss stuck her head out of her office.

"What?" She asked, eyeing the two curiously.

"I'm taking Cameron home." He gripped his partner's arm and tugged her towards the exit. "She's sick."

"I'm well enough to work!" Cameron tried to wrench her arm free. "Let go and--'

"She has a fever and is coughing and sneezing all over the place." Trystan explained. "I'm sure you don't want to take any germs home to your daughters."

"You're right." Mafalda waved them off. "Keep that at home, Rose. Me and Luke can handle things while you're off."

"But I--" Cameron weakly protested.

"I'll keep you updated on her condition." Trystan interrupted.

He dragged Cameron to the elevator. Once the doors closed, she lit into him.

"What the hell was that?!" She coughed. "I was fine to sit at my desk and review the case."

"Yes, but I know you, Detective." He argued.

Trystan folded his arms and matched her glare with one of his own.

"That brilliant mind of yours would have noticed something in the file the rest of us missed and you'd have been determined to go investigate it."

"Because that's my job!" She croaked.

She winced with how sore her throat was.

"I know." He gentled his tone. "And you're wonderful at it. But you won't be of use to anyone if you work yourself into the hospital."

"It's a cold, Trystan, not a damn heart attack." She muttered.

"Your fevered state is going to make you weak." He pointed out. "What if your next lead puts you in danger?"

"That's why I have you there to watch my back." She grumbled.

"Which you didn't take advantage of last night." He reminded her

Cameron avoided his accusatory gaze.

"Fine. Just drop me off at the nearest pharmacy and I'll get some cold meds. After they kick in, I'll be good to go."

"No." Trystan hissed.

"Excuse me?" She narrowed her eyes at him.

"You heard me." He took her arm again once they stepped outside. "My car's over here."

She muttered about how pig-headed he was while getting into his car.

He merely smiled over her mumbled insults as he drove to his apartment.

"Why aren't you taking me home?" She demanded once she recognized where they were.

"Because I have all you need at my place along with the comforts I prefer for myself." Trystan replied.

"Are you saying my apartment isn't good enough for you?" Cameron griped.

"Not at all. Mine has one thing though that yours doesn't." He responded.

"And that is?" She sneezed three times in a row.

"There are no copies of case files anywhere." He parked then led her towards the elevators.

"Clever." She reluctantly smiled at him. "It's almost as if you know me."

"I do know you, Cameron." Trystan's tone softened to one of earnest affection. "I know how selflessly giving you are of your time and talents."

"Ugh." Her head dropped back in frustration. "Enough with the compliments, Prince Charming. I give up."

"Ah, but unlike my Drakovian brethren, I prefer to give compliments to those who deserve them. I also refuse to rub in my victory." Trystan winked at her. "Though this is a battle I knew I would win."

He opened the door of his apartment and swept her an elegant bow.

Cameron's amused snort turned into a wracking cough.

Trystan clucked his tongue in sympathy then guided her past his living room and on into his bedroom.

"Allow me." He helped her out of her jacket. "Your pajamas are right where you left them the other night."

Cameron went to the drawer he had made not too long ago just for her. She smiled softly to see the various clothes he insisted she keep there for whenever he got her to agree to spend the night.

After changing, she realized how exhausted she was from the fever she was fighting. Without any fuss, she got into his California king sized bed and snuggled under the covers.

Trystan appeared not too long after with a tray loaded with juice, cold meds, tissues, a leather bound book, and a cup of something steamy.

"Hungry?" He asked.

"Not really." She sat up against the bed pillows, eyeing the tray curiously.

"After you take some medicine," he handed her the mug filled with a strange yellowish brown liquid, "drink this."

"What is it?" Cameron wrinkled her nose at the thick liquid substance.

"An old Drakovian home remedy for colds." He nudged the mug up to her lips. "Trust me, it will make you feel better."

"Yeah, but what's in it?" She asked.

"Sorry love." He told her. "But only Drakovians are allowed to know that. If we shared it with outsiders, we'd be dragged to the gallows for such treason."

Cameron groaned when he merely smiled. She took a tentative sip, her eyebrows rising in surprise. There was a very strong taste of alcohol mixed in with what she thought might be chicken broth. Strangely enough, she thought she tasted a few other odd spices such as cinnamon. It sent her senses reeling yet wasn't as terrible as she first thought.

"Whoa! That was not what I expected it to taste like!"

Trystan chuckled as he settled on the bed next to her.

"It does quite a number on your nose and throat, making it the perfect remedy for a cold." He lifted the leather bound book and insisted she finish her mug so she could rest.

Cameron found herself obeying. It surprised her that she would readily do so. She couldn't recall minding anyone, not even her beloved father, when it came to taking it easy when she was hurt or sick. Something about her banished prince made the notion of being taken care of not so horrible.

"What's with the book?" She asked after setting her empty mug on the tray.

"Can't have my favorite detective bored and deciding to try and escape back to work." He explained. "So I have a collection of old Drakovian mystery stories to keep that workaholic brain of yours engaged."

Cameron couldn't help but smile. It amazed her how well he knew her after such a short amount of time. He made it feel like they'd been together for years rather than a month.

She curled up against his side and allowed his melodious voice to soothe her into a deep sleep.

Trystan's lips curved when he noticed her nod off during the third story. He marked the page, knowing she'd insist on hearing the rest once she awakened, and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. He then tucked in the covers around her and quietly slipped out of the room.

Knowing Cameron was right where she needed to be and with the one she needed to be with, Trystan was able to relax and focus on making sure she was properly being taken care of.

#choices crimes of passion #choices cop #trystan thorne #trystan thorne x f!mc #choices fic writers creations

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