#my eyes are red and basically swollen from crying and now i have a headache from bawling my eyes out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mywritingonlyfans · 3 years ago

Text

Angst fic with Damiano David

prompt: a angsty about reader being sad (dami bff) 'cause damiano doesn't feel the same way romantically. ps. there's a lot of victoria de angelis being a angel in this fic, and it's basically about reader going through it.

warnings: none? it's just a bit sad and longer than usual.

All the soft touches still tingled all over your body. His scent was until now stuck to you, you never thought you’d feel happy to have woody essence along with cigarette smoke on you.

Folding the sleeve of his sweater, you put your tea in one of the cups you always use when you were there. His cotton piece was comfortable, making you didn't regret wearing it in the morning; it was cold and wearing your tank top from the night before didn't feel right. The shorts from yesterday, that were making your legs freeze were enough trouble for you to handle. The remnants of your clothes and belongings were collected from the floor of his room and placed carefully on his headboard, you made sure you were being quiet. Damiano has always been a heavy sleeper, but your counscious prevented you from risking disturbing him when he looks so peaceful. You had already spent much time at his place so you memorized where every thing in his kitchen - and others rooms - was; baking eggs and making tea wasn’t a mystery for you. You had even separated a Tylenol tablet for Damiano, so he could have it with his tea when he woke up with a wicked hangover. He wasn't the type to get drunk and forget what he did, nor were you. Since when you were teenagers, you have gone out and been drunk together a lot of times, and although your feelings were already present, nothing never happened. This time, however, alcohol helped injecting a dose of courage on him. Being honest with yourself, you didn't remember who started it; but the kiss in the midst of the loud music, his hand on the back of your neck, the exchanging glances while dancing and the moment he took you home, they were pretty vividly in your mind. You still felt relaxed, as if his sweaty body was still over yours. Minutes with your eyes closed was enough to feel his eyes roaming your body all over again.

“Hi,” he said in a slurred voice, cutting off your line of thoughts. You jumped, briefly scared but soon turned your attention to reality; a tired Damiano scratching his eyes in front of you.

He was dressed, wearing sweatpants and sweatshirt, duly comfortable according to the weather.

“Headache?” You knew he was. He was always a good drinker, he put up with it a lot, but he was never one to get rid of the effects of alcohol on the next day. You, on the other hand, got on better with this issue; fortunately from the night before, only the good moments remained with you.

“Yeah, a bit,” he giggled. “What a night, I’d say.” He added, in a lower tone. What was acceptable, you also felt a bit weird to be in front of him.

“I got you some pills,” you pointed it out to him on the counter, trying to maintain a normal behavior; with no shacking voice or sweaty hands. Quite impossible. “I made tea too.”

“Dear God, you’re a life saver!” He smiled at you, eyes crinkled and all of his perfect teeth on display. Contagious.

You grinned, feeling your body getting lighter. “No worries. I’m glad to help.”

“Y’know, when I woke up and saw that you weren't there I thought you were gone. You know? Friendship destroyed and that whole thing. I’m happy to see you; relieved.” He took a sip of his tea, and maybe a bit of your heart with it. You were an explosion of feeling when it comes to him, you always have been. “That sweater looks good on you, you can keep it if you want. You know that’s my fave one.” And, yeah, you knew.

The tension on you was no longer intense, comforting you to let out the breath you were holding. “It’s good to hear that,” Your genuine smile managed to say many things, you wished Damiano had noticed you earlier on other occasions. “Do you remember that one time, when we were younger, that you were a bit crazy about a girl; Alice was his name.” You stopped; in need of air - nervous - and watched Dami's attentive face. “She was the first person to whom you dedicated a song, you played it to her at school break. The cutest thing I had ever seen. I think it was there that I realized, a little jealous—“

“Y/N,” his voice had been almost inaudible, causing no effect. Had he really tried?

“How in love I was with you.”

His face was paler than usual, he was paralyzed; speechless. You had never seen Damiano like this, the men was always all over the place in a sweet talkative mess.

It took a few minutes for you to be able to read his expressions and realize how fucked up you were. The dose of happiness in your blood had been able to manipulate you to believe in what you most wanted to happen.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” your blood had gone up to your ears, all you could pay attention to was the pressure in your head. How had you thought that after one specific night he would suddenly decide that he was in love with you? After all of this time that you were just a good friend for him? “I’m truly sorry but I’m don’t—“

“Feel the same way?” You finished. He nodded, apprehensively. You have never felt so stupid. It was a mixture of shame, fear and insecurity. You were unable to look directly at him, you knew that there was no change in following a friendship after what you just said, much less after the night before. You had never been so screwed.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing, I shouldn’t have said a thing.” You whispered, realizing that the lump in your throat had turned into tears that you didn't even know were running down your face.

“Come here,” he opened his arms, walking towards your emotionless frame. You allowed yourself to melt in his grip.

Your tears fell freely; you could even try to hold it back but there was no strength left for you to think about it. Your crying was silent, as was the kitchen room. Your head was full of questions and cursing at yourself. Suddenly you wished Damiano had yelled at you, asked you to get out of there or said he wouldn't never speak to you again. It seemed easier to deal with it in this alternative way than to have him comforting you for loving him. “Shh, it’ll alright. I could never be mad at you.”

He talked about your friendship, but you knew that nothing would end up well. Maybe for him. But for you? It’d not be that easy. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I should have known better, you were so loving with me last night that I thought— Fuck, we slept together. Which I know isn’t your fault because I don’t even remember who—“

“Stop, Y/N. Look at me,” He was being careful. You were making a person like Damiano calculate his words, that made you feel like pure shit. You stopped talking, looking at him was still difficult. He understood that you wouldn’t be doing so. “That’s fine. I don’t feel bad about you liking me in that way, you’re wonderful. I don't regret anything, last night was great, but I just... don't feel the same. I’d never do anything to hurt you. I can't even imagine how hard it’s being for you right now.” His words sounded sweet and sincere. He had tears in his eyes as well. His ability to be so empathetic to everyone was something you loved the most about him. He was probably killing himself on the inside for breaking you.

You nodded, leaning on the counter. You wanted to ask him if he remembered that he was your first kiss at the age of seven or all the times he sent you vinyl records with some message - that he had written himself - inside the cover. How did he not feel the same, shouldn't you be everything he wanted?

“Dami?” You sighed. Your eyes were red, your face probably swollen. You then looked straight at him; that surprisingly wasn’t much better than you. “Have you ever looked at me and seen me in another way? Something more than just your best friend?”

He didn’t say a thing, just look at you standing there. You get it.

“I think I should go,” You broke the silence that had been formed. You thought about taking his sweater off, but since you weren't wearing anything underneath, you thought it was better not; you’d have to go to his room to change, and then pick up your things only to delay your leaving.

“I can drive you home,” he said in a hush, looking for his car keys.

“It’s okay, a walk will be fine.”

“It’s fucking freezing outside, I can't let you walk over there like that.”

You ignored what he said, walking around the house to the front exit. He tried to grab your arm just for you to step back.

“I know you're just trying to help, but I need to be alone right now, without you near me.” You tried to say it in the most normal way possible, you didn't want to be mean, you only wanted to be fair to yourself.

“Sure.” It was the last thing you heard him say before you left, feeling the cold wind on your body. You didn't know if he had entered his house again or if he was watching you hug yourself as walking slowly to somewhere. You wouldn't dare to look back.

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

“C’mon girl, get up here,” Upon hearing the husky, strong voice, you were relieved.

Victoria wasn’t wearing her usual jewelry and looked like she had just been woken up by force. You weren’t as close to her as you were with the other boys, however, you had never been so happy to see her.

You got in her car. “Thank you,”

“God, you look terrible. You’re fine?” You looked at your reflection in the rearview mirror and well, fine was definitely something you didn't look like.

“Dami asked you to come and get me?” Your throat was scratching, it was difficult to speak.

“Yeah,” she looked at you quickly, but due to your discomfort she backed off. More tears would come. “He didn't say why though, he just said he needed someone to come to you before you froze to death.” She said it in a way that made you laugh, even with your eyes filled with tears. “Did the two of you have a disagreement? You don't have to answer me if you don't want to.”

“Something similar.” You said shakily; due to your crying and chilly. Inside the car was heated, but your body was so cold that it didn't seem to be enough. You tried to snuggle in the passenger seat, letting your head rest against the window like in a sad film. Maybe that’d help.

“Here,” she handed you a coat, without hesitation you took it. “I brought it to you in case you needed it.”

You nodded slowly. “Thank you, Victoria,”

“You can call me Vic, just like everyone else,” she laughed.

You gave her a half smile. “Okay then, thank you very much, Vic,”

The rest of the day would be crying while you curled up in your bed, you’d let yourself feel at your worst; promising that you would try and change that the next day.

———----------------------------------------------

You expected the first few days to be the hardest, but it seemed to get worse with each passing day. Damiano had tried to call you a few times and in all of them you responded dryly, using short words, pretending it’d be okay. You truly tried, but you needed time to process what happened. You told him that, and then time he gave you.

After completing a month of the incident, you noticed how 'dependent' you had become on him. He was always around since you were kids, any problem you had you would look for him to talk to, now you felt like you had nothing. Your friends were friends of his, too, more of his friends than yours. You missed having Thomas failing on teaching you how to play guitar on your couch and besides you thought about calling him - just to distract yourself - you remembered that he was more a friend of Damiano than yours. It’d be weird. None of them contacted you at that time, not even Thomas. You couldn't figure it out if Dami had told them what happened and they decided to give you space or if they just didn't care about you when you wasn’t around Damiano.

Basically, where Dami was you would be and vice versa. It had always been like that.

When you saw that just time wasn’t solving anything, you programmed yourself to live in a way that you were busy all the time. Your routine became work, home and most of the time taking the work to be done also in your home. You didn't feel energized to make new friends, and going out on dates could help momentarily but it wouldn't be fair to go out with someone in the ‘mood’ you were in; then these ideas were soon discarded. Sleeping was impossible, you spent hours rolling over in bed; both for the flashbacks that plagued your mind, but also for the fact that you missed him. The nights were worse when you visit your mother or when she called and said, "Dami never came to see me again." or something like. “Are you still talking to each other? We don't let someone like Damiano leave our lives.”

Deep down, you knew there was no way you could be in love with him forever and that no matter how much it hurt at that moment it would pass. You started to repeat it to yourself as much as you could, so when the boys got in touch with you again you didn't hesitate to answer. Nothing bad would happen, you just need to pretend to be fine. The first to send you a message was Thomas, with simple questions, he acted like nothing had happened, you liked it. Even though it was obvious that Thomas, as one of his boys, would know this in more detail than you did (which was a lie, but at least he knew how Damiano was feeling about it, which you wouldn't know). He updated you about Dami, who was great as always, and you said you were doing well when he asked. You answering him made Ethan talk to you too, although they were all polite and delicate, they seemed more to be sorry than to miss you. Pity wasn’t something you were expecting.

After five months, you still felt like crap. You had tried to stop counting the days that had passed since you last saw Damiano, but it was almost impossible. You could still remember that night vividly, but you were still trying your best to move on; leave it behind. Mysteriously, you wanted to see him, see how he was doing and find out if he had anything else to say but you were afraid to see him, go back to your place as his best friend just to realize that your feelings for him had not abated at all.

“...I haven't seen you in a while. I wonder if you're alright,” you heard when answering your phone. Your head hurt, your eyes stung. You had slept on spreadsheets that you brought home from your work.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Shit,” she murmured.

You looked at the phone screen. “Sorry Vic, I just woke up I'm still trying to copy.” You laughed to calm her down.

“I thought I didn't have my number,” her voice became softer, as if she was relieved that you had saved it. “I didn't want to wake you up, I'm sorry about that. I just wanted to know how you‘re doing, since I used to see you almost every day, y’know?”

You thought about saying that you saved her number the day Dami called to pick him up at a bar since his phone battery was dead and he was in no condition to drive, but Victoria clearly knew that. “Is Dami with you?”

“No,” her tone matched yours; Dami had told her, now she was being careful with her words. “I saved your number the day Dami needed to call you, in case I needed to call you again.”

“That’s alright, thanks for checking on me then.”

“But he would love to talk to you. He always asks the boys about you or comments on you so that someone can bring you up to the convo. He seems a bit lost when you not ‘round to be honest.”

Somehow hearing that made you happy. Still, the image of discomfort whenever you thought of talking to him scared you. The phone line was filled with silence, until Victoria's husky voice filled the line.

“Anyway, I didn't call you to talk about Damiano. We finally finished the album and decided to have a small celebration at my house,” you giggle at the formality. “We thought you should go, since you were present in more than half of the process. I‘d like you to come. We’d all like you to come.”

———

Your heart accelerated with each step you took as you entered Victoria's house. The rooms had a glow of being calm and the music that was playing helped to make the place cozy. The instrumental of the band reminded you of Fleetwood Mac, and for the little that you knew Vic you would say that the type of sound reminded you of her.

Her house wasn’t crowded, there were only a few people around; some you’ve seen before, some you haven’t. You thundered your fingers over some vinyl that were arranged in a corner, pretending to read them. You were looking for familiar faces, honestly even for Damiano, but for some unknown reason you didn't want to make that obvious. Your eyes captured Thomas talking to some girls, and soon you felt relieved to be dressed according to the occasion; or at least according to the girls who were close to Thomas. It didn't take long until he noticed you standing there, you waved and he came to you. He looked surprised, still he didn't wait for you to say anything else, just wrapped you in his arms so tight you had to ask him to let go in between muffled laughter.

“Vic working miracles! Come, I'll take you to the others.” He said in his cute form, holding your hand as guiding you through the house. “So, how's our best girl?”

Your lips parted in a smile. “I’m alright, pretty much the same to be honest,” there was no time for him to ask another question because you soon spotted Ethan and Victoria with their beers in hands. They seemed to be shocked to see you as well; and it was starting to irritate you for reasons you couldn't explain. Thomas put you behind him, hiding you from the two of them as if they hadn't seen you already. He was being such a sweetheart that he had even managed to soften the anxious butterflies in your stomach; but not enough to keep your mind free of worries and Damiano David. Thomas made a funny noise with his hands as Ethan ignored his attempt to be amusing, pulling you into a hug. Who would have thought you would have missed them so much.

“How long without seeing you, I force you not to do that again. Without you we are just another disorganized mess.” You laughed at his nonsense. Your smile was sincere, like it hadn't been for months, still you were forcing yourself a bit more to appear to be actually 'fine'. You’d like to know if they noticed, even though you were appreciating that they didn’t.

“No worries, I‘m not planning on leaving you guys alone.”

Ethan and Thomas started to discuss about something, Ethan was already under the effect of alcohol, and from time to time they asked for your opinion on how Victoria had been strangely quiet. Atypical of her, but she didn't seem to be out of place or uncomfortable, just quiet.

“Did a cat eat the tongue of my newest attractive friend?”

“Not this time,” she showed you her tongue, and then smirked. Her eyes shone in differently way under your gaze and her make up was making her look more mature. “Are you feelin’ good? Thank you for coming.” Victoria was happy to see you, you could feel that. She might be curious, but pity wasn’t something possible to see in her; different from the other boys. “You must be tired of hearing that question, I'm sorry. It‘ll no longer be asked.”

Her voice was soft, comfortable to hear. “I appreciate that. I really have heard a lot of that, but despite everything, I feel good ‘bout bein’ here.”

“I feel even happier that you came then,” she put her hand gently on your waist. The other two didn't even remember you and Vic were there. “Let's get you something to drink, we bought that red drink Damiano always says you love.”

“No way, it’s bishop cocktail?” You looked at her, a big grin on your face, even though you remembered that this was the drink you were drinking when the universe decided it would be a good idea for you and Dami to have a one-night stand. Just a lovely reminder. “Have you mixed everything up? like the rum with the red wine? or with red drink you just want to say you bought wine?” You asked, ignoring your internal conflicts. Everything would be fine, you ket repeating to yourself.

“In fact, I remember once hearing you comment you didn't mind it being mixed up in a random bottle.”

She pulled a glass bottle out of a bucket full of ice and you couldn't believe she remembered that; given that you could count on your fingers the times that you had actually spoken to her. You didn’t avoid each other, just didn’t have much of the opportunities.

“Oh my god, that’s so fuckin’ lovely.” You whispered. She was quick to pick up a glass and hand it to you, filling it with the so well remembered liquid. You took a sip, and the taste - or alcohol - made your butterflies calmer. “Thanks for that, tastes like heaven.” She took a glass for herself, by her expression she thought it was a waste of rum. “C’mon, it’s not that bad.”

“If you think so, who am I to deny.”

“Don’t be a bummer,” you bumped your shoulder with hers, eliciting a cute sound from her that made you laugh as well.

You wish that sensation had lasted longer, even so when a random girl approached you to ask something, you felt heavy; like a sign. Her hair was golden in perfect waves and her face was angelic in an almost divine way. You might have been overreacting, but she was the type to catch all the attention to herself.

“You’re Y/N, right? I was startin’ to think that I’d never get to know you.” She hugged you tight and you wondered if she really didn't know you. When she released you, you felt your heart breaking right there in front of her. She was wearing Dami's sweater; the same one from that night, the same one that you wore. You wanted to be wrong, but you’d know that sweater from a distance even after years. “He talks so much about you. Can you believe we never met?” She asked, alternating her gaze between you and Victoria. She had been silent, you had forgotten that she was still there. Your head was miles away in thoughts, making you dizzy.

“Hi, Bella,” Victoria said. You remembered that name. Damiano talked about her on a few occasions, anyways he didn't seem to be in love - or you just didn’t want to see that. Maybe you haven’t been able to read him due to your stupid passion. “How’s everything?”

She started talking to Victoria and you couldn't concentrate on listening; all the alcohol in the world would not ease what you were feeling. How long have they been together? What was so special about her that Damiano gives her his favorite sweater? Were they together when you slept together? How did she end up with the same sweater you slept in that day?

She held the cup that was in your hands and handed it to Victoria. “Are you okay, hon’? You look a lil’ unwell. Do you want me to get you some water?”

“No need, I’m alright,” she patted your arm, and then checked your temperature. She was being nice, yet you couldn't pretend to be interested in being there anymore.

Thankfully, Victoria put an arm around your shoulders, asking if you want to join her to have a smoke. “It’ll be good, fresh air will do good to you.”

You agreed. Bella was worried and you felt bad about having to run away from her. She looked like an incredible person, sure Damiano was lucky to have her, that was just too much for you.

“Do this, you will feel better. We can talk later and so you can tell me everything about you and Dami, I’d love to hear you, since you’ve known each other for so long.” You looked for some irony in her voice, but you didn't found it. She was interested in you; after all, you were her boyfriend's best friend. It made sense.

Victoria guided you to the balcony, or at least halfway to it. Midway, someone stopped to talk to her, she tried to dismiss the person, however, as it was a thing related to the album, she would have no way out. “Victoria, it’s fine, I need some time alone.” You whispered to her, patting on her arm. She looked at you reluctantly, but understand. There wouldn't be much she could do for you.

Entering the balcony you felt an absurd urge to cry, your eyes itched and your legs were trembling. Was being in love meant to hurt this much, or was it just a game of chance?

You tried to take a deep breath, ease your heartbeats, telling yourself it was okay. You just needed to calm down. You leaned your body against the wall and watched the place. The plants near the fence - which you didn't know how Victoria had time to take care of them - the streets, and then the sky. Starry and moist, made for good memories that wouldn't come to you. When you felt ready enough to go out and face the party again, you ran into the one you were trying to avoid, Dami. Minutes ago you were anxious with the possibility to see him to know how he was, now you just wanted to run away and wipe these last months out of your mind.

“Y/N,” his body collided with yours while his arms wrapped around you, it was supposed to be a good thing, that you‘d feel safe as the same way you used to feel, except that was uncomfortable now. You couldn't even respond to his hug, for a second you thought you would escape without having to see him. He noticed and gave you space. “I swore that you wouldn't come. My god, it's so good to see you.” He ran his hands through his hair and you remained paralyzed in front of him.

You tried to focus on your breathing so that your voice came out without too many complications. “Yeah... It's good to see you, you look great.” It didn't work, your voice was shaky making your lie sound even worse. He looks great, you didn't lie, he seemed even happier and well rested. You wondered if it was because the album was ready or because now he had Bella.

You forced a smile, but unlike the others, Damiano knew you were acting. He didn’t judge or question, his face became tense, apprehensive. He knew that nothing was right.

“I thought about callin’ you more, goin’ to see you or something. The boys convinced me that it‘d be better not, that it could be even hard for you. I wonder if I shouldn't have done something different to help you because I know I fucked up too.” His hands were undecided between running through his hair and staying inside his pockets. He was nervous, at the same relieved to have spoken to you.

“It wasn't your fault, I’d never blame you for that,” you sighed, smiling slightly. It felt terrible to make him feel that way about it, but there wasn't much you could do. “I'm glad you gave me space when I asked, it's still hard to see you or think about talkin’ to you. It is as if everything that is tormenting me comes all at once.” It was good to say that to him. He nodded and you looked at each other for a while. It wasn't as uncomfortable as you thought it would be.

He was a few feet away from you while you were admiring the night, with your back against the wall. You wanted to leave, maybe go cry in your bed until you fell asleep, still you wanted things to work out with Dami, you wanted that tension and fear of seeing him to get out of your head. Despite that, if it was necessary to suffer in that process, it would not be worth it.

“She’s amazing,” it hurt to say that, but it was the truth. “Bella’s amazing, lucky girl.” You smiled sadly. Saying her name and seeing Dami smiling at that made you thank God for not seeing the two of them together, hugging or kissing. He‘d probably put his hand on her waist while she was talking to one of his friends or giving lightly kisses to her temple, just because he felt like it. Damiano was the cute type, you've seen it before.

“She is, an amazing person. She was all happy to have spoken to you. I told her all about our teenage years and how you always supported the band,” He had told her about you, would he have told her about you being in love with him? You thought to ask, soon giving up. It’d be shameful if so. “If I knew you would be here I’d not have come with her.” It made you think that he had told her.

“What would you do? Would you hide me from her for the rest of your life?” You sighed. it was supposed to sound like a joke, regrettably your voice sounded too cruel for that.

“It’s not like that,” he mumbled. “I was just tryin’ to think of you and—“

“I think I need to go Dami, it’s being too much. I’m sorry.” You needed to get out of there, you couldn't stop the tears anymore and you knew it was a bad idea to talk about her with him.

You took a few steps back just for Damiano to grab at your arm, without putting strength, just like a few months ago, to stop you in front of him. You turned your face away from looking at his eyes, feeling as the tears run down your cheek. You'd never be able to face him, this situation was only proving that to you even more.

“Please, Y/N. Just tell me what I need to do. I will do anything for you to talk to me again. I need you, you know that. The past few weeks have been a mess without you around. Even little my mom misses you. I’d do anything to have you back like before.” He was about to cry, his eyes shone with tears and it was painful to watch. He could do anything for you to stay; except what would make you stay. Unfortunately, it didn't depend only on his good will.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this,” you said in a lack of air, signaling the space around you with your finger. “But this, this is too much. It kills me to have to be close to you or to be close to things or people that remind me of you, seeing someone else with you doesn't help at all. I still think about the fact that we slept together... I can’t just forget it ‘cause it meant so much to me and to you, to you? it was nothing.” You were out of breath, you just wanted to cry in peace, put everything out until there was nothing left.

He released his hands of you, his face red and damp. It wasn't going to be easy for either of you. Time wouldn't matter; it wouldn’t change a thing because whenever you looked at him you’d wonder about how things could have been like if he had chosen you.

He whispered one more time that he was sorry, then let you go. He could have stopped you, but it's not like he knew what to do anymore.

He watched as you walk out without even looking back.

——-

You went through the party walking fast, avoiding acquaintances and questions about why you were like that. Your body was heavy as well as your conscience. Outside the house the street was empty, the streetlights illuminated the sidewalk and along with the silence of the street you felt invited to sit there. You brought your knees close to your body, trying to breathe calmly. Pulling the air in, and then releasing it in a normal way. Your heart was beating so fast that your whole body was agitated. You tried to stay still. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling a little dizzy when you saw someone walk out the front door of the house. You dropped your knees, trying to look decent, but gave up as soon as the person came closer to you and you saw that it was Victoria. She sat next to you, pulling you into a hug. You were happy that she went to you.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, hugging her waist and hiding your face in the fabric of her shirt.

“Stop saying that you’re fine when you’re far from being fine, I won’t judge you sweetheart,” she comforted you, giving you a extra squeezing. You were far from being alright, but it helped, having someone there helped.

She placed her chin on top of your head, soothing you until your crying softened. She rubbed your back and whispered that it’d be okay.

“Did Damiano send you here?”

“No, darlin’. He said that you had talked, and then you had to leave, he didn't look well, I thought you wouldn't be either.”

“And then you decided to look out for me?” You laughed, still tucked in her warm arms.

“Yep, sounds like you need me, don’t you think?” She laughed too, causing the vibration of her chest next to yours make you feel taken in.

“Why’s love so painful?”

Victoria didn't answer, she was thoughtful for a few minutes, and then she stood up, holding out her hand for you.

“What?”

“I won’t be taking no as an answer, you’ll get in the car with me and we will do something, anything, drink milk shakes, fill up our bellies with pizza ‘til we can't take it anymore, or even rob a bank.” She held you by the waist, lifting you up for her. “Please,”

You didn't see why not to accept. There was nothing worse that could get even worse at the moment, maybe going somewhere would do you good. “Even rob a bank?” She nodded, pointing to where her car was.

A smile spreading across her lovely face as you realized you’d go anywhere she wanted with her. “Yes, even robbing a bank.”

#damiano david #damiano david x reader #måneskin #victoria de angelis #victoria de angelis x reader #damiano david fanfiction #damiano imagine #damiano angst #maneskin #fanfic #fiction #imagines #maneskin x reader #writing

703 notes · View notes

itsdanii · 4 years ago

Note

hii i just read all of your masterlist and i loved it kdjzjsj. Could i request a scenario where Asahi has been working long hours and never gets to see his wife. And his wife is secretly pregnant :o so they get into a scrabble and all is revealed but happy ending coz i cant do sad ending ny heart might shatter

Baby Daddy

hey, bub. thank you so much for requesting! here's an asahi angst to fluff with a pregnant wife. i hope you like it ❤️ stay healthy and hydrated!

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: mentions of nausea, mentions of monthly period, suggestive content

ft. asahi azumane

reminder 1: lashing out on your wife is not a good practice, especially if you're unaware that the said wife is carrying your child inside her womb

reminder 2: never slam the door shut on your wife

With shaky hands, you stared at the pregnancy test you were holding. Tears of happiness were streaming down your cheeks as you took in the two lines signifying that you are indeed pregnant.

You've been feeling nauseous these past few weeks and the moment you noticed that you skipped your monthly period, you immediately bought a pregnancy test to confirm your suspicions.

And so, there you are, now holding the positive test as you let the feeling of hope and happiness embrace your being. You smiled and reached down to place your free hand on your nonprominent baby bump. Sure, it was too small to be noticeable yet but the fact that you knew that there's a life forming inside you made you happier than you could've ever expected.

"Hi, baby. I know you can't hear mommy yet, but I want you to know that she already loves you very much," you whispered while rubbing small circles on your skin.

Once you finally calmed yourself down from the exciting news, you took a shower and put on some presentable clothes, the red silk of the dress you're wearing shaping your body perfectly.

You stared at yourself on the mirror and smiled in satisfaction. Despite how the dress accentuated your curves, it wasn't too tight to suffocate your lower belly. You put on some light make up and kissed your wedding ring as you finished.

The next thing you did was proceed to the kitchen to prepare some fancy dinner for both you and your husband, giving the table a finishing touch with a bottle of wine for Asahi.

You glanced at the clock and noticed that it was already 9 in the evening yet your husband was still out. You decided to send him a message but only frowned when you received no reply. Sighing, you instinctively placed your hand on your lower belly as you felt a sudden distress.

What if he didn't want the baby?

What if he leaves you?

What if he realizes that he no longer loves you?

What if-

The sound of door opening interrupted you from your thoughts and you immediately stood up to welcome your husband.

Lately, Asahi had been coming home late, always overworking himself to the point of exhaustion. To be honest, you were seriously starting to get worried but everytime you tried to confront him, he would only grunt at you and head to sleep.

You made your way to Asahi and helped him with the stuff that he was carrying, making sure that you only took the light stuff in your arms. "Welcome home, love," you said affectionately and pressed a lingering kiss on his lips.

Unlike the usual, Asahi didn't wrap his arm around your waist nor buried his face on the crook of your neck. You frowned at the lack of affection but decided to let it pass.

"What's the occasion?" he asked, finally taking notice of the food you prepared. The smell of steak was still lingering in the air and despite how it slightly made you feel lightheaded, you held it in knowing how much Asahi loved it everytime you cook steak.

"Nothing," you said as you placed some of his stuff down. "I just wanted to make you some nice dinner since we haven't been spending that much time lately."

Instead of answering, he only sighed and flashed you an apologetic smile. He made his way to his seat and waited for you before eating.

Silence enveloped the two of you and you can't help but feel your palms starting to get sweaty. The way he seemed to rush his food made you feel as if he was only eating as to not offend you. As you were about to speak, he downed his glass of wine in one go before standing up.

"I'm finished. I'll go ahead to bed, okay?" your husband said as he placed a kiss on top of your head, the sweet gesture doing nothing to soothe the negative feeling bubbling inside you.

You stood up and wrapped your arms around him from the back, hands gripping each other to lock him to your embrace. "Love, I missed you," you murmured against his back.

"Y/n, I don't have time for this. I'm tired, okay?" Asahi tried to uncoil your arms around him and groaned when you won't let him.

"Don't want to let go yet. I know that if I do, you'll go to bed again and when I wake up, you'll be gone. Can't I have even just a little bit of your time?" Your voice almost cracked at the end as the toll of his absences finally made its way to you.

He applied a little force to remove your arms before turning around to face you, a deep scowl now present on his face as he stared down at you. "Time? You want time? I'm sorry if I don't give you enough. Unlike you who just stay at home and do nothing, I have work. I have priorities so I'm sorry if you think that I'm not giving you enough attention. Geez, y/n. I'm your husband, not your damn babysitter."

"You call yourself a husband when you can't even prioritize your own wife?" you spat angrily at him.

You knew that you offended him by the way his jaw clenched yet you stood your ground because you knew that the problem wouldn't be resolved unless you confronted it head on.

"I wasn't aware that it's a wife's job to nag at her husband nonstop," he spat back. "Stop being childish and maybe then you'll do something productive and not just spending your time sitting pretty."

Asahi didn't let you speak and opted on turning his back on you. Within a few seconds, you were left alone as the door of your bedroom slammed shut.

You felt your blood run cold as you stared at the door in front of you. "I'm sorry," you whispered, not to yourself nor to your husband but to your baby.

Quietly, you began to clean up the table and wash the dishes. You groaned as you felt an upcoming headache starting to form, no doubt due to the stress you're currently experiencing.

You dried your hands and turned off the lights before making your way to the guest room. Your husband basically slammed the door on you which means that he didn't want you to disturb him, right? So if it's space that he wants, it's space that he'll get.

You curled yourself against the bed, the empty space beside you making you feel lonely. You were used to sleeping beside Asahi. Despite him always coming home late, you never missed the feel of him pressing apologetic kisses on your skin.

It wasn't long until a sob escaped your lips. Your fingers gripped the pillow beside you tightly as you burried your face against the soft cotton, silently wishing that it was your husband you're embracing instead of the white material.

Unbeknownst to you, Asahi was just as distressed as you were.

He couldn't stop himself from tossing and turning as he anxiously waited for you to open the door and fit yourself in his arms. He didn't mean to slam the door at you. He only applied a bit of force not knowing that the impact would be that much.

God, he didn't even want to fight you.

But the feeling of stress and exhaustion from his work along with the expectations of people made him irritable which then resulted to him snapping at you.

Not being able to resist you anymore, Asahi swallowed his pride and made his way to the bathroom to splash his face with cold water to wake himself up before he talks to you.

But he guessed that the cold water was no longer needed.

Because there sitting on top of the toilet seat are two pregnancy tests with both positive results. He carefully picked up one of the tests and stared at it with shock evident on his face.

You're pregnant.

You're carrying his unborn child and he just shouted at you, called you childish and disregarded your feelings.

Instant regret made its way to him and he felt his heart rate picking up. "Shit," Asahi whispered to himself as he paced left and right inside the bathroom, hands gripping the pregnancy tests tightly.

Asahi quickly made his way to the living room, eyes widening in fear upon seeing you nowhere. He surveryed the whole house while calling out for your name and only stopped when he saw your curled up form inside one of the guest rooms.

He sighed in relief and made his way to you, gently scooping you in his arms to carry you back to your shared bedroom. He removed the few stray hair from your face and placed a small kiss on your forehead and both of your swollen eyes, obviously the result of crying.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered as he showered your skin with kisses.

"Azumane," you called out with a raspy voice as you woke up from the light feeling of lips trailing on your skin.

Your husband stopped what he was doing and looked at you. "You're pregnant." It wasn't a question, no. It was a statement, one that was enough to bring tears into your eyes.

"I am," you said with a nod and took his hand, placing it on the spot where your bump will soon make its appearance.

Despite being cover by the dress you're wearing, he leaned down and kissed your lower belly lovingly. Pulling away, Asahi shifted himself to lay beside you, his hand reaching for yours to bring it to his lips.

"Im so sorry for what happened earlier," he whispered. He took your lack of response as a signal to continue speaking, one hand sliding around your waist to pull you closer to him.

"Im sorry for shouting at you and for neglecting my job as a husband. I was too focused on proving myself to my co-workers that I forgot the person waiting for me at home." He let go of your hand and wiped your tears with his thumb, his hand cupping your face as you leaned to his touch. "Please don't cry, my love. You know I hate seeing you cry."

"It's your fault," you mumbled with a shaky voice. "It's just... It's so unfair that I'm your wife but I still have to ask for your time and attention when in reality, you should be the one to give those to me without me asking."

"I know. I know, love." Guilt and regret were evident in his voice and the more Asahi watch you let everything out, the more he hated himself for being a bad husband. "But I promise you it won't happen again. I'll be a better husband and the best father to our child. So please..."

You nodded and buried your face to his chest, his scent helping you calm down as you cried everything out. Your hand gripped the back of his shirt tightly as you sobbed in his arms, warmth enveloping you as he rubbed your back soothingly.

"You're okay, we're okay," Asahi whispered, pressing a kiss on top of your head as he held you without any intent of letting you go. "We're okay, right?"

You looked up at him with tear stained cheeks. "We're okay," you said reassuringly.

After a few minutes of enjoying each other's embrace, Asahi slowly pulled away. A whine escaped your lips making him chuckle slightly.

"You dressed up for me?" he asked as he raked his eyes down your figure.

"I wanted to look good for you," you said shyly. "I haven't got the chance to change since you basically slammed the door on me."

"I already apologized with words." Asahi gave your lips a peck before settling himself between your legs, eyes looking up at you as he slowly hiked your dress up, a gasp escaping your lips as his fingertips grazed your thighs.

"Now let me apologize with my actions."

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

question: do you prefer the plain divider or this pink one?

#haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #hq imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu comfort #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #hq angst #azumane asahi #hq asahi #asahi angst #asahi fluff #asahi x reader #hq scenarios

654 notes · View notes

elliesguitarstrings · 4 years ago

Text

Here For You

Masterlist

Peter Parker x reader

Summary: Peter comforts you after you reveal your struggles with depression to him.

A/N: Sorry it’s taking me so long to write part 3 of Silence but I promise it will be out soon. I’ve just had a rough couple of days so I wanted to write something that kinda reflects my feelings atm. I know that a lot of people are feeling the same way as I have been, so I’m just putting it out there that I am always open to talk if anyone needs help :)

Warnings: fluff, mentions of depression and suicide, language

~~~~~~~~

You let out a long sigh as you close your computer after the last class of the day. You’re exhausted, you have a pounding headache, and you don’t have a single shred of motivation.

When all of this COVID stuff first started, you didn’t mind doing school from home. To be completely honest, you actually loved it. You didn’t have to talk to all the annoying people in your classes, you could do a large portion of work on your own time, and you had an excuse to stay in your room all day. What’s not to love, right?

Wrong.

After a few weeks, you started to see how terrible it all was. You had to teach yourself everything because your teachers had no clue what they were doing (and they still don’t). You started to get distracted easily. And the worst part: every single fucking day was the same.

You lost all motivation to do anything.

You’re smart, one of the smartest in your class, actually, but your grades were dropping rapidly. You lost track of assignments, turning them in so late you didn’t even get half credit. You procrastinated like crazy, dreading every single day. You stayed up late every night, trying to finish assignments and get back on track. But nothing was working.

You want to change so badly. You want to be one of those girls who keeps a bullet journal with fancy colors and letters, who plans out their entire day with a checklist, who stays on top of their work, and who actually has the motivation to get up out of bed each morning. But you can’t and you aren’t, and you don’t know why.

Plus, right now you were on your period, which was not helping things. At all. You hate feeding the stereotype of girls being all emotional and unstable during their periods, but it’s true. Well, for you at least. When you’re happy, it’s like you��re bouncing off the walls. But when you’re sad, it’s like you’ve fallen into a 300 ft deep hole and you’ll never get out.

You crawl into bed and start sobbing, the only thing you can do right now. You just want it to be over. All of it.

Suddenly, you hear a knock at your window. Your shades are drawn, but you know exactly who it is. It’s Peter. He goes patrolling around the city after school, but he always comes to check on you first, seeing as you’re his girlfriend and all.

You know that if he sees you crying, he’ll want to help you, but the last thing you want is to be a burden on him. Plus, you only started dating a few months ago, and you didn’t want to drive him away by getting all emotional around him.

“Just a sec Pete, I’ll be right there.”

You run to the bathroom and splash some cold water on your face, trying to get rid of the redness and puffiness in your eyes. You pat your face dry with a towel, put on the best smile you can muster, and run back to your room.

You draw back the curtains and open the window, allowing Peter to slip into your room.

“Sorry it took so long for me to get to the window, I um, just woke up from a nap,” you apologize, shutting the window back while he takes off his mask.

“Don’t worry about it! But didn’t school end like 10 minutes ago? How did you fall asleep so fast?”

“Oh, um, my last class got dismissed early, so I was actually done like 30 minutes ago,” you lied, hoping he doesn’t notice.

“Oh, okay, well I’m glad you got some rest. You need it.”

Smiling, Peter stretches his arms out towards you and pulls you into a tight hug, kissing your forehead.

Just that small amount of affection is almost enough to make you burst out into tears again, but somehow you manage to hold it in.

Until Peter pulls back, looks you dead in the eyes and says, “What’s wrong?”

“What? N-nothing’s wrong Peter, I’m perfectly fine.”

“No, you aren’t. I can sense something’s wrong, so just tell me.”

“Peter I swear. Nothing’s wrong! I’m fine!” your voice is shaking.

Peter folds your hands into his, “Y/N, please. I know something’s up. Just tell me.”

That’s when you lose it. You fall back into his arms, sobbing even harder than before. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen. But there’s no stopping it now.

Peter holds you tight while you cry, letting you bury your head into his chest. He doesn’t ask any questions just yet, he just holds you.

After a few minutes, the tears let up enough for you to pull away, looking at Peter with red, swollen eyes.

“I’m sorry Pete, I’m so so sorry. I- I didn’t mean for that to happen,” you stutter between sobs.

“Y/N, no, no, it’s okay. You can let it out.”

His voice is soft and comforting, and it does actually help you a little bit. He pulls you into another tight hug, repeatedly kissing the top of your head while you continue to cry.

“Come here, lets sit down, okay?” he pulls away slightly.

You nod weakly, and he guides you onto your bed. You both sit down, facing each other, and he takes a hold of your hands.

“Peter I’m sorry, I don’t want to be a burden, you should go do your patrolling, I don’t want to hold you up – “ you start, but Peter cuts you off.

“No, you don’t need to be sorry. And forget about my patrolling. I’m staying here until you’re better, however long that is.”

You smile weakly, to tired to even fight on it.

“Do you want to talk about it? Only if you’re comfortable though, you really don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Peter questions.

You look at Peter for a moment through teary eyes. He was here for you, ready to listen to you and help you. You were hesitant, not wanting to spill all of your feelings out on him, but you’ve already gotten this far, so why not.

“Yeah, sure, but can we cuddle?”

“Of course baby, whatever makes you comfortable. But let me change first, I’m drenched in your tears,”

You chuckle lightly. Peter always knows how to make you laugh.

He changes into a sweatshirt and sweatpants that he left at your house and climbs back into bed with you. He pulls you close to him, and you snuggle into his arms.

“So, talk to me, what’s wrong?” he asks softly.

“Are you sure you want to hear my problems? I really don’t want to be a burden Pete,” you respond, still crying.

“Baby, I’m here for you. I want to help you and make you feel better. That’s what I’m here for.”

He really is the best boyfriend anyone could ask for.

“Well, um, okay. It’s just, I don’t have any motivation to do anything. Not even to wake up in the morning. Even just the simplest tasks seem so difficult, and I feel like I can’t do this anymore Pete. I just can’t do it.”

You start to sob once again, and Peter pulls you into him even closer. He lets you cry and slowly calm down for a few moments before responding.

“Shit, I’m sorry Y/N. I’m so so sorry. I had no idea you felt like that. I mean, I knew school was bothering you, but not to that extent. But please, please please don’t leave me. You mean so much to me and I don’t know what I would do if I lost you,” now he’s starting to cry.

You lay there, Peter’s arms wrapped around you, holding you as close as humanly possible to him, both crying your eyes out.

“Y/N, I’m going to help you. I’m going to do everything I can to help you. Because losing you isn’t an option. So tell me what I can do to help.”

“Thank you so much Pete. You being here Is honestly the best thing you can do right now.”

You snuggle into him, engulfed by his warmth and comfort.

After a long silence, you look at him and smile, genuinely this time, “You know, even though I’ve been sobbing nonstop basically since you got here, just being with you has already made me feel better than I have all week.”

Peter looks back at you and cups your cheek, pulling you in and kissing you softly. Although the two of you had kissed many times before, this one was different. This was pure love.

You pull away, “Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Of course baby. I’m here for you always. No matter what.”

You both smile, going back in for another kiss, much like the last.

This time Peter pulls away forehead still resting against yours, “Y/N, promise me you’ll never leave me.”

“I promise Pete, I promise.”

You snuggle back into his chest, your tears finally diminishing. Although the past few months had been absolute shit for you, Peter had always been there. And you know he always will be. He makes everything better, and you couldn’t be happier to have him in your life.

The both of you start to doze off to sleep, tired from all the crying you had been doing for the past, well, however long it’s been.

Before you fully fall asleep, you whisper, “I love you Peter.”

“I love you too, so much” he whispers back.

And in that moment, you are truly happy.

~~~~~~~~

Taglist (if you want to be added, removed, or changed on this taglist please comment or send in an ask!)

All: @pxkajesus @hollanddolanfangirl @roseke @agentsofparker @lifeasjazzz @damnrancidchicken @loopyolivia @iwannabekilledtwice @rafehogwarts @non-eexistent @rosiexx8 @nearlydanger9 @realityisabitch07 @midgardassassins @jbreenr @cap-marvxl @ellesmythe @depeestcolorgiantopera @that-one-person @clandestine-nerd @nevertrustapanda16 @ohabbyoh @rxmanxff @bubbleskz @quinn-spn58 @baby-pogue @strangebouquetqueen

Peter Parker: @blizzardbabe

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker x y/n

154 notes · View notes

arr-jim-lad · 4 years ago

Note

How's your eye? Why did Callie do that?

my eye is healing well, there’s no serious damage at all. i basically just got poked in the eye really hard so it got red and swollen (this is gone now thankfully), it hates light, and keeps crying and wanting to be closed.

the eye itself doesn’t hurt anymore, but because it’s an injury on the head i keep having headaches so i keep going to sleep i literally just woke up from a “nap” that lasted 5 hours again u_u

Callie did that because she’s a dummy but i can’t stay mad at her

#jimsplaining #Anonymous

8 notes · View notes

scribbling-stiks · 4 years ago

Text

AAR - XXXVIII - Torturous Research

It can get intense and graphic, so read with caution after the "BOOM".

Also, there is a bit of a time skip. Only a day or so.

Russia wakes up slowly to a sliver of sunlight shining on his face. He had fun with the kids for the past few days.

But today, he and America had to leave to start their mission.

Russia sighs.

At least they had some of their own fun before they lost their private room.

America shifts next to him before pulling him down into a kiss. Russia sloppily kisses back and runs his hands down America's back, tracing his spine down to his lower back and thighs. Russia enjoys messaging America's behind and America hums, feeling up Russia's chest before pulling away.

"You wore me out last night," America mumbles, staring up with half-open eyes.

Russia smirks. He admires the marks he'd left on America's collar bone. He pulls America back in for another kiss, and America returns the passion.

"It was fun," Russia teases

"A'course. You're good~," America purrs.

Russia smiles back and closes his eyes. America takes a deep breath before sinking against Russia, slotting his legs in between Russia's. America lays that way for a second before pulling away suddenly, sitting up quickly on the bed.

"S***!" America exclaims, the blankets pooling around his waist, "we need to get going!"

Russia nods and sits up. America grabs Russia's hand and pulls him up.

"Come on!!" America exclaims.

America pulls him into the connected bathroom to the room and they quickly clean up before America drags Russia downstairs to where Texas is waiting for them.

"Who is coming with us?" America asks.

"Dixie's in his truck with Netti right now. Then once we get in, we'll be on our way," Texas replies, "it'll be a while before we get there, so we'll have to figure out a game plan."

Russia nods.

"All y'all's stuff is already in the back of the truck. You'll have to thank Ginny and Pig-Pen for getting your bags packed and all that. Now come on, let's get going," Texas says, waving them forward.

America hops into the passenger seat and Russia sits in the back with Texas and Connecticut. Connecticut gives a welcoming smile which Russia returns.

"Hey, Dix. Didn't know you would decide to come along," America says, pulling on the seatbelt.

"Georgia can handle the house," Dixie says, gripping the steering wheel, "and I ain't gonna be standing back no more. Can't have y'all getting hurt and not being able to do anything about it. Now, where are we headed?"

"The closest one from here is a good few hours North," America says, summoning the glowing map he had drawn in the warehouse, "So just start going north and we'll be good. I'll figure out better directions with an actual map."

DIxie nods and pulls away from the house. After just a few moments of driving, the entire building is hidden from view. Russia smiles before turning back to see America excitedly talking Dixie's ear off and Dixie gently shaking his head with a bemused smile.

"Okay," Connecticut says, crossing their arms, "we need a game plan before we start storming bases. Otherwise, it's just gonna end badly."

"Damn right," Texas agrees, turning to face Russia.

"What?"

"You are the only country who might actually be able to plan something," Connecticut says, "Dad has never been a 'planner' and Dixie doesn't get any father than 'shoot now, questions later'. We were hoping you could help."

Russia goes quiet and stares out at the passing scenery.

"We should go to search for missing countries. We have basic maps, so we know where to start," Russia says.

"And how much damage are we causing?" Texas asks.

Russia shrugs.

"Do not get caught," Russia warns.

"Yes!" Texas celebrates, fist-bumping the air.

"Who are we looking for?" Connecticut asks curiously.

"Ukraine. There are others we will look for, but I want to find my brother," Russia replies.

"Sounds good to me," Connecticut says.

Russia looks back and spaces out.

"We're close."

"Hey, what's with the black car?"

"DAD!"

BOOM

...

Russia sits up a little and groans. He rubs his head, trying to ignore the pulsing headache, and he looks around only to see that he is completely surrounded by a thick glass reinforced with metal bars with small windows 3 meters above the ground with some deceiving slots in between some of the bars for sound to carry. There is a metal exam table bolted to the ground in the middle of the room, and it looks like it has spots of rust on the restraints. It smells like blood.

Russia looks around more and sees that each of them were in large, and separate cages. He looks a little closer and sees a brutalized Dixie curled up on the ground and covered in blood and bruises. Connecticut looks like they're about to cry and Texas looks beyond angry, but also scared.

"Who's next?" a voice asks.

Russia whips around to stare at a scientist that walks into the hallway in between Russia's cage and America's.

"NO!" America screeches, "DON'T TOUCH THEM! PLEASE!"

Russia looks up and sees America's arms hanging from chains, his wrists bound to the ceiling, and his ankles shackled. Blue magic audibly snaps around America's eye, but America shrieks in pain and his muscles seize. America howls before going limp, and blue-ish black smoke drifts up from the shackles. America's breaths come in ragged gasps.

The horror builds in Russia's chest a lump forms in his throat.

"Me. I'll go," Dixie says, sitting up, his face bloody and one of his eyes swollen shut.

"Oh, no. Not you. You've been beaten. You don't need this," the scientist says with a sickly sweet tone, looking back down at his clipboard.

The scientist looks up at Texas, "What about you?"

Texas glances at Connecticut with a conflicted gaze. The reality of the situation hits Russia like a truck and he leaps to his feet before he gives Texas the chance to answer.

"NO! No. Take me," Russia says, throwing his hand in the air.

The scientist hums for a moment before a smirk appears on his face that disappears quickly. Russia steels his face over and the scientist walks off.

"What's going on?" Russia asks Texas, who looks away.

"We're at one of the bases. They ambushed us," Dixie chokes, "They caught us by surprise and restricted Amy's magic. Amy already tried to escape, so they have him restrained, and Connecticut's magic is blocked here."

Russia examines the area and sees they aren't the only ones here, but that most of the other inhabitants looked almost catatonic in their own cells. Russia flinches when he hears the door squeak open. His eyes go wide and sprint for the exit.

But before Russia can make it out the door, he's struck in the stomach by something that sends bolts of electricity through his veins. He flys back and his legs shake violently. The scientist tsks and writes something down on the clipboard. Russia tries to push himself back to his feet, adrenalin rushing through his system and his heart skips a few beats as he tries to stumble around the scientist.

The scientist jabs him in the stomach again with what looks like a cattle prod and Russia collapses into a heap on the floor.

"You will learn to stay down," the scientist sneers.

Russia ignores the words and tries again to scramble to his feet, only for his legs to go limp against his will. Panic ravages his mind and he tries to crawl his way forward. Then several people walk in dressed as guards. They pick Russia up from the floor and strap him down to the table. Russia thrashes against them, but his arms are hard to control and his legs had gone numb.

"I will take another one to experiment on," the scientist suggests with a smirk.

Russia's frantic thrashing calms and he forces himself to lay back.

'Better me than any of them.'

"Good country," the scientist coos, stroking Russia's cheek.

Disgust fills Russia and he swallows back the nausea that follows.

"Where am I?" Russia spits, and the scientist chuckles.

"You're with me!" The scientist cackles.

"Who are you?" Russia asks, biting back his growing anger.

"I am the main researcher for our cause, of course! Now, lay back and keep quiet~"

Russia shuts his mouth and tries his best to look around until the scientist grabs a strap and yanks it. Russia's head flies back and hits the table with a CLANG.

"Now, let's explore the healing you countries have. Oh! I have been so excited to get my hands on another one of you!"

Something rolls into the room that is loud with clanging and metallic sounds. He can hear muffled shouting.

"What are you doing?!" Texas shouts, his tone horrified.

The scientist shoves a gag into Russia's mouth and Russia swallows back the vomit creeping up his throat.

The cloth tastes like old blood and vomit.

Russia stares with wide eyes and tries to figure out what was about to happen, but the metal things that he hears clambering around remain out of his view. Then something pierces the back of his hand. His back arches in agony and he screams. The smell of burning flesh permeates the air.

It feels like his hand is being thrust into a flame, and he feels nails being buried into the back of his hand. His thrashing had loosened the restraints enough to turn his head and he sees the scientist with a sadistic grin poking a red hot nail into Russia's hand and fingers. The scientist puts the nail aside and begins writing while closely examining the wounds.

"Interesting..."

The scientist prods at the throbbing wounds with gloved hands and pushes the flesh apart as it tries to stitch itself back together. Muffled screams fill Russia's room and Russia's face streaks with tears. His hand burns horribly and throbs with every heartbeat.

"Flex your fingers," the doctor demands.

Russia tries, but stars dance in his eyes.

"Do it!" the doctor demands and a piercing pain burns through Russia's hip.

Russia wails and his vision goes white. He clenches his hand and the burning recedes, and the hole throbs as it is exposed to the air. He wheezes and tries to blink away his tears.

"Russia!" Russia hears America cry out.

Russia's head whips around. To his left was America, who screams and cries hysterically. To his right is the doctor. In front of him is the frozen faces of the states staring up at him horrified.

'I can't let this happen to them.'

He bites the cloth in his mouth to keep from crying out while the doctor puts the nail back on the table.

"Bring it in," the doctor calls.

Someone walks in and he hears America shrieks. Russia spins around to stare at one of the guards walking in with a large, steaming pot. Texas begins shouting obscenities and Connecticut begins trying to bargain with the guards.

"Stop," the doctor says before leaning over Russia's face, his eyes dead except for an evil, sadistic gleam.

"Well, you have two choices. One, you're drenched in boiling water."

Russia's heart drops.

"Or we could make one of the others take your place."

Russia begins hyperventilating at the thought of the pain.

"So, what'll it be?"

"Russ!" Texas shouts desperately, "I can take it! I'll take it! Please!"

'No. I will not let you get hurt if I don't have to.'

Russia stares the doctor in the eye.

"Option one?" the doctor asks, and Russia nods, determined.

The doctor giggles.

"Alright!" the doctor cheers, a horrible smile on his face.

Russia is blinded by searing pain as the scalding water begins burning away the skin on his chest and stomach. He screeches and thrashes as the burning tunnels into his skin. The doctor begins scratching at him and Russia throws his head back against the table, not seeing anything but stars.

Russia can faintly hear America screeching incoherently. He turns his gaze to America, who looks inconsolable, sobbing and thrashing against the restraints.

'Better me than them. Than him.'

Russia's surroundings begin to fade away as the doctor begins taking samples and taking notes. Russia feels his chest and stomach skin go completely numb and the doctor continues to prod at the injuries. He stares blankly, his mind spinning with pain.

'Want to find him.'

Russia stares up at America, who cries and screams into the empty air, the cuffs around his wrists smoking.

'He's sad.'

'I don't want him to be sad.'

"Meri?" Russia tries, but the cloth muffles it to the point that it doesn't make any sense.

America looks up at him and more tears gather in his eyes.

'Oh no.'

'Am I making him sad?'

"I'm sorry," Russia tries to say.

America's head whips up and stares forward with tears before America begins to throw himself around the room against the chains, screaming in rage. Russia's eyelids grow heavy but he forces them back open, trying to watch through his double vision.

The chains snap and Russia is blinded by a bright blue light and he sees America slams against the walls. The doctor didn't seem concerned at first until the glass shatters and Russia hears a horrible scream. A scream of anger, pain, and grief.

America summons his scythe and slices the cages open, breaking Dixie, Texas, and Connecticut out of their restraints before rushing into Russia's room. The guards try to take him down, only to be sliced in half.

Their pieces scatter along the floor and they ooze blood across the floor.

Connecticut summons throwing knives and pins the doctor to the wall by his hands. They laugh sadistically.

America leans over Russia and begins pumping magic into Russia. A thick sheet of magic surrounds his injuries and Russia stares up, watching America's magic begin to flicker in his eye. America's eyes begin to fall, but he scowls and continues to shove as much magic as he could manage into his efforts. Russia feels his pain begin to fade and the waxy skin on his chest began to rebuild itself.

Connecticut cuts Russia's restraints and removes the gag. Russia turns over and vomits before falling back onto the table. America begins shaking.

The cuffs are vibrating and smoking horribly.

"Are you okay?" Russia mumbles.

America's breathing is labored and he trembles, his eyelids fall unevenly. The magic flickers, but the sheets of healing magic remain consistent.

"Dad, you have to stop!" Connecticut demands.

"No! I let this happen!" America wails.

"You're killing yourself!" Dixie yells, trying to pull him away, "STOP!"

America refuses and continues forcing magic into Russia, but the magic that had been in his working eye fades away.

"*America?*" Russia mumbles.

America's magic begins to spark wildly and America sways. He leans against the table before crumbling. Russia tries to sit up, but screams. The hole in his hip throbs and his skin burns. He falls back and breaths heavily.

"We have to go!" Connecticut says.

"No," Russia interrupts, "we have to find anyone else who is here."

"But-"

"No!" Russia screams, biting back his cry of pain, "this can not be for nothing!"

Texas and Dixie glance at each other and nod.

"Go," Dixie says with a dark look, "and take care of them. They deserve it. And grab the guns."

The states smirk and run off, and he hears screaming and gunfire under their running footsteps. Dixie stands over them, trying to prop America up in a more comfortable position.

Russia lies back, trying not to aggravate his injuries any further, feeling completely helpless.

Table of Contents

#rusame #ch russia #ch america #statehumans #countryhumans

3 notes · View notes

cozycryptidcorner · 5 years ago

Photo

“This takes place in the universe I’m working on! Some of my followers might recognize the characters, I’m drawn them plenty of times before. I’ve been wanting to actually write the relationship, but have been working on the plotline beyond what ya’ll see in order to do so. I hope you enjoy these two dumbasses as much as I enjoy writing about them!”

This can’t get any worse, AJ thinks, as it inevitably gets… well, worse. At least instead of freely orbiting through the vastness of space, she gets caught in a planet’s gravitational pull, but that opens a whole other can of worms that involves things like possibly burning up in the atmosphere. She doesn’t know if her spacesuit has any kind of heat guards or impact safety measures beyond the basics, but oh boy, she’s about to find out.

Being caught in a gravity well is sort of like how AJ imagines being caught in a whirlpool while completely paralyzed and numb all over. It’s an inevitable sort of horror, though she can’t actually feel friction of any kind, like someone on the outside might think she would be experiencing, her spacesuit at least makes sure of that. From her position, she can see the planet through her tinted visor, a soft, golden shade overtaking everything it possibly can.

There are two possible planets she could land, twins, locked in each other’s gravitational pulls, and she doesn’t know which one claimed her first. Her so-called team briefly stopped in the system, trying desperately to pull the energy of the sun to refuel the damaged warp engine and repair the external damage before the accident.. Her body flips over, tumbling, plunging, flipping head over heels, wholly unsure of the direction she is heading, much less the planet that has decidedly grasped onto her frame and pulls her ever closer. She has thrusters, but they won’t so much when barreling towards the ground at high speed; however, maybe she can angle herself so that she bounces right off the atmosphere bubble?

She has to think over this very quickly. Which sounds worse, floating in a vacuum and hope someone who aren’t the space pirates her crew was running from picks up on her suite’s emergency beacon, or pray her suite can take the impact of a crash and try to make contact with the natives? Tentatively, she tries working her thrusters and quickly realizes by the lack of movement that they must somehow be damaged. Awesome. Incredible. Her day is just getting better and better.

There’s a blinding flash, and she realizes that all other options are now unavailable, because she is now falling to the planet’s ground. She’s also on fire, that’s why it’s suddenly so bright. The light control on her helmet kicks in a moment too late, her eyes ache from being exposed that, but she can’t do anything about it. Her brain fizzles for a moment, and when she opens her eyes again, she realizes that she must have fainted for a few seconds. The systems operator is going insane, flashing messages running across the face shield, one of them politely suggesting that she call for assistance because it appears she’s moving faster than the recommended speed the suit can tolerate without disintegrating.

Helpful advice, but AJ knows that slowing down will probably aid in her survival, so she maneuvers her body around so that she’s parallel to the ground, spreading out her limbs to create surface drag. A warning pops up in front of her face, letting her know that the heat of reentry is melting the outer layer of her suite. She doesn’t even have any time to panic, though, because she’s trying to figure out if there are any sort of functions she can use as a makeshift parachute, something, anything to cause enough drag that will increase her chances of not pancaking into the ground.

It’s so very unbearably hot. AJ’s suit’s internal systems try to let her know, unhelpfully, that the air conditioning is not compensating enough for the external heat. AJ thinks she might start crying but tries her best to keep her shit together so she can focus. A part of her wishes that the impact could be instantaneous, but the ground doesn’t seem to be getting any closer. The descent controllers work, though, miraculously slowing her fall to the point where she is no longer on fire.

She hits her thrusters, hoping they might decide to work now, though nothing happens. Then, miracle of miracles, sees that the option for the descent controllers is still available. Nothing that will guarantee a soft landing, but it might be enough to keep her bones from shattering on the impact. She hits the release and two hexagonal shapes pop out on either side of her, the difference in speeds almost immediate. Her body wobbles uncomfortably, but nothing breaks off, thankfully

One problem is out of the way, but another one is fast approaching. She can’t really control her descent beyond angling her body slightly to fall a little more forward, so it’s not as though she can pick where she’s going to hit. There’s a loud snap as her body rams into a tree, and the damn thing cracks in half as though it were made from weak plastic. There’s a dull pain on her hip, AJ can feel the suit take critical damage, but she doesn’t fucking stop. It’s like she’s chained to a speeding train, her body skidding through the forest, the leaves and branches doing little to stop her, the protective layers of the suit beginning to crack and warp.

AJ can hear the pop of her chest piece as it fractures, and parts of her arm guards begin to rip off. Just as it looks like she’s finally stopping, she slides right off the edge of a cliff, which, incredible! Excellent addition to her day. Water leaks into the cracks of her armor, and her breathing apparatus beeps a warning that it can’t manage to sort oxygen from other harmful molecules anymore. A current sweeps her away, just as merciless as the gravity has, and AJ has to figure out how the fuck to get the helmet off so she has a better chance to breathe.

The weight of what is left of her armor drags her down, but she tries to focus on one dilemma at a time. The release buttons of her helmet are almost welded together, which only leads to further panic, thus speeding up her oxygen use. After a few, shaky moments of being tossed about in the water like a ragdoll, she finally managed to release the helmet, letting it get sucked away by the current. When she manages to find and break the surface, she barely has time to take in two, gulping breaths before her foot catches something, and she’s yanked back under.

She flails, terror building because AJ did not survive a freefall through a planet’s atmosphere just to fucking drown once she hit the ground. Again, she manages to surface, if only for the barest moment, and she quickly goes back down. She tastes blood in her mouth as her chin hits something solid. Then, by some other miracle, she’s again up, jerked roughly from the water, and she can finally breathe as something- or someone- drags her out of the river and onto the grassy banks.

At first, all she can do is sputter any water out of her lungs, too shaken from the river to do anything. A hand sets on her back, and she turns to look over her so-called ‘rescuer’ as a headache fully setting in once she manages to sit up on her own. Actually, everything hits AJ at once, a shudder of pain rippling through her body like a goddamn tsunami. With trembling fingers, she begins to peel away what is left of her armor, side eying the… the person with a curious glance.

He’s remarkably tall, she can tell that just from his kneeling position, his legs slim and long. His gaze holds hers, eyes wide, pupils small, as though he sees a ghost, which AJ supposes if fair. This is most likely his first time seeing someone from outside his world, his shock is understanding. AJ is, after all, completely desensitized to all things’ alien,’ she can’t imagine what he must be thinking.

“Thanks for getting me out of there,” AJ says, her voice raspy, and she can tell her face is swollen just from the areas of pain that come with speaking. After prying her gloves and finger guards off, she finds that most of her hands are covered in blisters, which explains why moving them hurt so much. When she wipes her nose with her wrist, it comes back tinged with red.

He answers, but when all she hears is a string of gibberish, AJ realizes that the universal translator must be fried. Her day just keeps getting better and better, because she needs to ask him to help pull the arm plating off next. Her fingers are dripping with pus and blood, some of her blisters popping from the effort, and with the way that the metal has melted and hardened weird on her arm, she’d be surprised if it’s only bruised.

“I need your help,” she says, slowly, in case the translator is just having some minor processing issues, “can you,” she gestures in his direction, “pull this,” she taps on the armor and mimics a good yank, “off for me?”

He seems to catch the gist, hesitantly reaching over, his long, slim fingers grasping the end of the metal awkwardly, as though he isn’t sure where to grip. As he pulls, there’s a sharp pain that runs up AJ’s arm, but she tries not to make anything more than a soft grunt as the plate pops off its attachment. Before she even has a chance to recover, he holds his hands out, taking the opposite piece in hand and doing the same thing. That one hurts a bit more, though, and AJ finds herself letting out a quiet whimper.

The alien quickly places a steady hand on her shoulder again, a comforting gesture that catches her off guard, and then he helps pull off all other parts of the suit until it’s just an exoskeleton. It’s a bit more complicated to get off than the external plating, since it involves a load of switches and locks, safeguarding her body against the vacuum of space. AJ’s fingers are stiff and aching, but she somehow manages to undo all the bells and whistles, and with her brand new friend’s help, she actually gets the damn thing off.

Her arms are covered in dark, swelling bruises. Patches of her skin are burned, much like her fingers, and she doesn’t want to know what her legs and feet look like quite yet. She can’t even wrap her arms around her chest to fight the oncoming chill since, beyond the obvious, her left arm spikes with pain every time she bent her elbow. Something in her stomach gurgles, she isn’t sure if it’s anxiety, hunger, or the fact she might have accidentally swallowed half of that river while she was fighting to breathe.

She starts crying. Not full-on sobs, but the tears are there, sliding down her already wet cheeks, mingling with the blood and snot that’s dripping out of her nose. The alien looks like he’s about to panic, and glances self-consciously over his shoulder, pointing to somewhere in the trees. He stands, and yes, AJ’s first observation about his height is correct. Good god, he has legs for days, the cool, blue of his skin remarkably reminiscent of a clear, sunny day back on Earth.

Oh, and he has horns. AJ doesn’t know how she missed that part, plucking the translator from the rest of the discarded suit and tucking it against the waistline of her leggings. He helps her up, slowly, carefully, clearly aware of how the more bloody and battered body parts are strictly off-limits. AJ doesn’t know how she could possibly walk, but she somehow does, another miracle to add on today’s list. Just because she can, though, doesn’t mean it’s not absolute agony,because there are a lot of things happening at once and none of them are good.

She’s suddenly overcome with pain, and she can’t do it. She can’t go any further. Her legs are quaking, her balance is warped, and just as she stumbles, the alien catches her. Carefully, conscious of her other injuries, he wraps her arm around his neck, placing his other hand on her wrist, effectively pulling a significant amount of weight off her feet. It’s torture, but she quietly tells herself that the pain will end just over the next landmark. They’ll get where the alien has them going soon, just beyond the trees. Beyond that big rock. Over the bridge.

And then there’s a house, small, rectangular, made from dark pink clay up ahead. AJ breathes out a gasping sigh of relief as the alien steers her there, letting her in through the awkwardly placed door, into the warm glow of weak, artificial light. Lightbulbs. Electricity. That’s a worthy observation because that pops the lid off dozens of possibilities that come with such a technological advancement, including things like functional, decent medicine that AJ is probably going to need in the near future.

There’s someone else in here, but AJ doesn’t try to be too worried. A woman, older than him, it looks like, judging by the slight creases in some areas of her face, and she’s looking at them like… well, like she’s seeing an alien for the first time. That’s also pretty fair. AJ tries to make herself seem like less of a threat, though she doesn’t really know… how to do that when she’s almost broken apart from the fall. Surely she possesses no sort of danger to these people?

They speak, and all she hears is garbled nonsense, though there is an undertone of familiar syllables that signals that her translator is trying to do its job. The female gestures over to a nearby table, and she is now ferried over to a kitchen area and seated on a comfortable wooden chair. The two proceed to converse, while AJ tries to use all her linguistics training to pull meaning from the gestures, tones, and facial expressions alone. After all, it is her goal to eventually be able to communicate with unknown species from the ground up, as is most linguistic anthropologists without technological aid. Might as well start now.

The older one sets a blanket around AJ’s shoulders, then goes about something around the kitchen area. Carefully, AJ undoes the straps of her giant work boots, wincing as her fingers bend around the straps. Her feet are horribly swollen, she can already tell without looking at them, and she’s almost afraid that she will have to cut the damn things off. Luckily, though, once everything’s loosened enough, her feet slide out with minimal effort. Like her hands, her toes and heels are burned, the red, raw flesh already peppered with popped blisters, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to walk for a good couple of days at least.

A bowl- no, cup, is set in front of her, the older one must have made her something to drink. Before AJ has a chance to pick up the ceramic mug, the female picks up her hands, looking over the wounds with a skilled glance, clucking her tongue sympathetically. After a moment of banging around in a drawing tucked to the side, she returns with long strips of cloth and a glass jar filled with some sort of paste. Carefully, the female patches AJ up, a sharp, biting sting overtaking her senses as that sticky stuff is unceremoniously smeared all over her hands and arms.

AJ dimly wonders if this is what a mummy partially feels like as her hands, fingers, and forearms are wrapped firmly in the bandages. Despite the burning pain from the salve, she feels… tired. Like she could just go to sleep at this very second. Slowly, she drinks the tea, though that doesn’t help the drowsiness, watching the two people go about their day like an extraterrestrial isn’t chilling in their kitchen area. Now, she can’t be sure unless she like… actually speaks to them, but the older one seems to have some sort of parental authority over the one who saved her from the water. Like a mother and son dynamic?

Her eyes drift closed, and AJ finds herself fighting them back open. Is she even safe to sleep? She doesn’t know, there hasn’t been any sort of weird vibes from the natives. Self-consciously, she takes another sip of tea, wincing as her hands move weirdly against their wounds.

The one who pulled her from the river disappears for a few minutes in the back of the house, then returns, wearing something entirely different from the simple tunic he sported earlier. The fashion is… Well, it’s something, that’s for sure. Lots of ornaments dangling from his ears, horns, and nose, dozens of piercings that she hadn’t noticed now plugged with gold-colored jewelry. There’s something more aggressively strange about his outfit, too, with a longer skirt and an open front, and he’s quick to avert his eyes when he catches her staring.

The female says something in passing, probably to her, but AJ doesn’t understand any of it. She finally takes the time to finally pick up her universal translator in an attempt to repair it. Not that she has any sort of confidence in her engineering abilities, though, because to put it nicely, she’s not really an electronics person.

When the masculine one actually leaves, though, ducking out from the door, AJ is overwhelmed with a sense of absolute panic, though she doesn’t really know why. She trips over herself, trying to stand, and she doesn’t know what she would do once she finds her footing, maybe follow him, but her feet just are not capable of walking anymore. He returns to her side as she crashes into the ground, hoisting her up by her waist, and she catches a whiff of his scent. Oh, it’s nice. AJ didn’t think that the indigenous people of technologically unadvanced planets use things like cologne. Still, he definitely smells different than when he first pulled her out of the river. He picks her up, arms hooking under her knees and around her waist, like a bride, and carries her through the hallway.

The bedroom he enters is cluttered, yet clean, a collection of things lining the walls and various shelves, clothing folded and carefully placed in little cubbies dug. AJ is then placed onto a bed, which is good, because she’s tired, but she’s also aware that the alien is just going to leave her, and a part of her is remarkably nervous over that. Even so, she buries her face in the blankets, struggling to find a comfortable sleeping position to accommodate all of her injuries, and she still manages to sleep, fully aching.

#alien/human #monster/human #exophilia #alien romance #monster lovers #alien lovers

89 notes · View notes

crazyzaika · 5 years ago

Text

Love on Detours Chapter 10

Guys. So here we are with Chapter 10.

It took a while, I know. However, a big block had me firmly under control and then there was stress in my private life. Reallife *shrug*

At the request of my german readers, I mix this chapter with two of the four pairings. Actually, I was planning to add Miraxus as well, but the two didn't want to do like I wanted. AND after this chapter I will make a time jump with you ;) Let's see what you think about this.

Greets Z

Chapter 10

She was incredibly sad. Her heart hurt only at the thought of him, of his behaviour towards her. But she simply couldn't change it. And she did not want to change her behaviour. She loved him, and she couldn't and wouldn't change that. Even if it killed her. Because she knew that he could not hate her. Before it came out how her family relations were, he had liked her, even presumably loved her. He had introduced her to his family. And if his father hadn' t told him that she was the daughter of an Oyabun, they would probably still be a couple. Gray had been so angry four years ago. And he had thrown a lot of insults at her head. But only if she really dared to approach him. Otherwise he had always ignored her, punished her with icy cold.

Juvia straightened up. Tiredness hung in her limbs and she lowered her gaze, looking out the window. Outside it was cloudy, rainy. Matching her mood. Everything seemed so much bleaker since he had told her about a month ago that he had a fiancée. She felt so lifeless, impassive. These words had destroyed so much in her, had ruined her. Another tear ran down her sore skin. She didn't even have to look in the mirror to know what she looked like. She knew that too. Her skin would be red from all the crying and irritation from the tears, her eyes swollen and bloated, stuck with tears. Her skin pale and sickly. She seemed ill and for a good month she had barely made it out of bed two days in a row. Juvia felt headaches throbbing behind her forehead and her throat laced up. Her heart was aching, burning and her body began to tremble.

A muffled knock on her door made her flinch violently, but still her gaze hung on the flowers on her windowsill. Back then, about 5 years ago, Gray had given her a flower for her birthday and she had cared for it all the time. The blue blossoms of the gentian never seemed to want to wither properly and never let themselves be withered. At that time it had only been a single flower. For five years a whole flower box had been growing cheerfully. Juvia bent slightly forward and inhaled the scent of the flowers and a sad smile plucked on her lips.

"Juvia-sama?", Acnologia's voice muffled through the door and sighed softly. Should she answer him? She didn't know. However, she also knew exactly how he would react if he saw her. The otherwise quite polite and mostly emotionless, good house spirit of the family would be angry. He would be furious and she wanted to avoid that. Nevertheless, she slowly rose. The soft fabric of the knee-length nightgown gently played around her skin and the white fabric almost adapted to her pale skin. She slowly opened the door and looked up at the servant of her family, blinking slightly. For a moment he stared at her and she saw the rage flashing in his dark eyes as he took a closer look at her appearance. Then he sighed softly.

"Ojou-sama," he said and sadness resonated in his voice as she looked at him wordlessly and waited. She knew what he was thinking, even without him saying it. She knew what everyone was thinking. Her clan thought she should finally forget Gray. That he was not worthy of her love at all. But she didn't think so and she just couldn't let him go.

"Breakfast is ready, do you want to take it with the others at the table, or in your room?", surprise briefly drove through her body as he did not address the subject, as usual, but simply continued. But she didn't go into it. That wasn't necessary in itself. She lowered her eyes slightly and shrugged her shoulders. She had not spoken for almost a month. Did she want to eat with the others? Did she want to eat at all? Dullness lay over her senses and she blinked slightly, then she braced back to her bed, crawled silently back under the blanket and buried herself in the warmth of the soft fabric. Tiredness spread throughout her body and dragged her down into a deaf, bleak sleep.

" Morning," he growled and dropped his bag on the bench next to Ultear. She looked up from the book in her hands and smiled coolly at him. Just like always. His cousin wasn't exactly the warmest person, so this reaction didn't really surprise him. Restlessness filled his senses and aggression surged in him. But he couldn't really put the whole thing together, didn't know why he had been permanently irritated for almost a month.

"Wow, still such a sunshine, mhm?" she asked and sarcasm seemed to drip from her words. Gray snorted and clenched his teeth so tightly that his jaw crunched. Icy rage crept up in him and he didn't even really know why. He hadn't been at peace with himself the whole time, had lost his balance. His inner peace and that worms him animalistically. But he also didn't know why and he didn't want to make a fool of anyone or get into a constant argument. Or in fights, but that was exactly the case. Gray let himself fall next to his cousin and drove with his hands irritated through his hair.

"Again so extremely aggro", his brother Lyon's voice penetrated his ears and he raised his gaze to him. A dark growl rolled up his throat. He knew what Lyon was alluding to, but he refused to believe it. It couldn't be Juvia's absence. Since he treated her so coldly, since he had rejected her, he hadn't been so aggressive after all. Cool yes and he admitted that for the last four years he had laughed less than before. It couldn't be because he had told that lie. Nor was it because Juvia hadn't come to university for a month, had it? He pulled his eyebrows so tightly that they were a single stroke. Thinking of their shattered facial expression, his heart contracted painfully for a moment. But the fact was: she was the daughter of criminals. Of scum. His father had said at the time that such a person was not tolerated in his house. He was a policeman and as such avoided scum like the Dragneels. He let his head hang, rubbed his neck and stared at the patterns of the stone slabs.

"Yes, but he won't believe us that this is connected with his nonsensical dislike of someone very special," Ultear said, shrugging her shoulders. She herself didn't mind in the least spending her time with the social scum. Ultear did her thing and sometimes Gray envied her for it. His aunt Ul's daughter wouldn't let herself be pushed around, not even by her own mother. Even though sometimes he didn't quite understand what she found in such criminal scum. On the one hand, he still loved Juvia. That had never changed over that long time. But Gray didn't want to disgrace his family either. Whereby his father had nothing against Meredy, Lyons girlfriend. Sometimes he just didn't understand his father's reasons.

"He just doesn't want to admit it. I know that he even has a secret picture folder of Juvia on his computer and on his cell phone," Lyon said, and Gray literally froze. His heartbeat speeded up and slowly he raised his gaze, staring angrily at his brother. How did he get his data? Apart from that ... why did he tell it around, please? He felt the strong urge to smash the white-haired man's face in. His muscles tightened, but Lyon simply didn't pay him any attention, otherwise he would have noticed that he was staring at him as if he wanted to kill him. His heartbeat quickened more, rage made his blood boil, and the urge to beat Lyon grew stronger with every second. Gray's hands clenched to fists, he grabbed his bag and rose jerkily.

"I'm not in the mood for your bullshit, I'm going home," he rumbled and marched off with stiff steps. He didn't want to harm his family. Why was he so angry?

Levy sighed as she stared at her cell phone. Juvia's behavior was to tussle hair. Not only was she currently the Dragneel clan's problem child, Lucy also worried and she worried herself. Juvia and Gajeel were friends and each of them watched with growing concern as she sank deeper and deeper into this depression. She barely ate properly, rarely came out of bed for several days in a row, let alone out of her room, and she basically cried all the time. Apart from the fact that she hadn't said a word the whole time. That worried everyone and the only thing that kept the Dragneel clan men from filleting Gray was Juvia's heart that would break even more. She turned to her side and sighed deeply. It was Monday afternoon and she wondered how to make Juvia a little happier again. It was already summer and she had opened the balcony door so some wind could blow through the apartment. The soft ringing of the wind chime that Gajeel had hung up was almost meditative and she closed her eyes for a moment, the smartphone in her hand on her forehead. Maybe they should have a picnic?

For Lucy that would be quite good again. She was mothered by everyone all the time and Levy knew she felt like a glass doll. Because that's how she was treated. Like a raw egg on a battlefield. Levy knew that her best friend was working very hard. She was now in her 13th week of pregnancy and in the meantime you could already see a light belly that wasn't there otherwise. The school did not necessarily react to pregnancies. Makarov was a very tolerant headmaster. However, Levy had encouraged Natsu and Lucy to talk to him on their own. In the end Lucy was allowed to finish the school, but he had taken Natsu to prayer for a long time. Then her cell phone vibrated again and she lifted herself up, stood up and went over to the fridge, took out some cooled Sencha and sat down on the sofa again. She opened Line and scrolled to the end of the group chat, frowning.

Lucy, 14:45: We clearly have to distract her.

Gajeel, 14:50: Yes, we all know that, Bunnygirl.

Lucy, 14:50: DO NOT CALL ME BUNNYGIRL!

Gajeel, 14:52: Stop crying.

Natsu, 1452: Metal face, if you call Lucy that again, I'll sink you in Tokyo Bay!

Gajeel, 14:53: Of course. Calm down again, Salamander.

Lucy, 14:53: Naaaatssuuuuuu *sniff* Cuddling

Natsu, 14:53: Wait a minute, I'll be right there. Give me a second, okay? Won't be long.

Gajeel, 14:55: HAHAHA, you are such a slipper hero.

Levy sighed and snorted slightly. Then she started typing. It couldn't be that they couldn't all get it together to calm Juvia down and bring her to other thoughts.

Levy, 14:57: Guys ... let's please concentrate on the actual topic again. Juvia suffers under Gray and I don't want a friend to break down like she does. Accordingly, I suggest a picnic. This is good for her, then she comes out and Lucy also comes with her. You don't have any right to have a say, Natsu.

Natsu, 14:57: Please what?

Lucy, 14:58: That's a wonderful idea, Levy!

Natsu, 14:59: Honey! I'll be right there, let's discuss it!

Lucy, 14:59: There's nothing to discuss, I'm not a raw egg. I'm just pregnant!

Natsu, 15:00: With ma twins!

Lucy, 15:01: The one I carry, not you. By the way, where are you?

Gajeel, 15:01: As imma say, yer full under the slipper

Natsu, 15:02: Shut up, metal face!

Lucy, 15:03: NATSU DRAGNEEL! IF YOU'RE NOT HERE RIGHT NOW, YOU'RE GONNA GET SOMETHING!

Natsu, 15:04: Almost there, darling. Only a few steps left! Wait, Luuuuceeeee

Levy sighed and shook her head. She laid her head slightly on her neck. Her friends were sometimes really exhausting, but she loved them all. Despite their strange quirks. The bluenette girl rose from the couch with another sigh, went straight into her bedroom and dug out a big cooler bag and a blanket carrier bag from her closet. Then she went into the kitchen and picked out ingredients.

Soft sunlight fell through the dense canopy of leaves, the tree under which the small group had settled. The chirping sound of cicadas filled the hot summer air. Everyone seemed to be looser than usual. Only Juvia was sitting in a simple blue dress that reached down to her knees, not saying a word, not even pulling a face. Levy had the impression that Natsu had forced her to come along. And she wouldn't be surprised. Juvia's otherwise soft, shimmering blue curls seemed dull and lackluster, and her deep blue eyes also had a cool emptiness in them. She would never admit it, but Levy was afraid for Juvia. Could she ever make it out of this depression?

She knew what words could do. Her own father had always kept her small until she met Gajeel. Restlessness surged and sorrow surfaced. Had Juvia eaten anything at all? She had not yet touched the sandwich Levy had given her.

"Juvia?," she asked carefully and looked at her waiting. Her heartbeat accelerated as the other bluenette one slowly turned her gaze, looking at her with that empty gaze. Levy smiled uncertainly.

"I hope you like it," she asked and knew perfectly well that Juvia couldn't really answer that question. After all, she hadn't taken a bite yet. For a moment her eyes wandered over to Lucy and Natsu sitting on the other side of the cloak. Natsu had drawn his girlfriend to him. She sat leaning against him on a soft cushion between his legs while he held her plate and fed her all the time. Something the blonde kept complaining about. And Levy knew that was simply because her best friend felt like she was being fattened. Because not only Natsu fed her constantly. Everyone stuffed food into Lucy's mouth all the time. And even now Lucy had to force Natsu not to put something in her mouth all the time so that she wouldn't fall off his meat. Levy turned her attention from the quietly squabbling couple back to Juvia. She stared at the paper plate on her lap. Then she looked back at Levy and nodded. The corners of her mouth twitched slightly, the beginning of a smile. Levy's heart made a jump. That alone was a rare reaction from her. And yet Levy was careful, she didn't want to frighten Juvia, didn't want her to retreat back into her cold, impenetrable shell of sadness and silence.

Because even if it was only the twitching of her mouth corners, it was a fact that it had been the hint of a smile. And that was progress in the right direction, as the bluenette found. Juvia slowly took a tiny bite, and for a few seconds Levy saw the touch of a glimmer in her blue eyes. Since Gray's harsh words, they seemed empty and desolate, like two endlessly deep tunnels of blue. But now a tiny spark of life had shimmered in them. Levy's heartbeat accelerated and she beamed at Juvia as she continued to eat. The others didn't hide it either, but nobody said anything. They secretly kept an eye on Juvia for fear that she would stop immediately when she realized she was being watched. A warm summer breeze came up and plucked her blue hair. She immediately seemed more alive. Then Juvia handed Levy her paper plate and Levy looked at her questioningly. The breath of an invitation was in her eyes and Levy's eyes widened.

"W-would you like some more?" she asked cautiously and to the delight of the others, Juvia nodded after a short hesitation. Levy beamed at her friend and immediately nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course, Juvs. Another sandwich or some sushi?" she looked at her waiting and Juvia pointed at the sandwiches with a lowered gaze and shimmering pink cheeks. Levy immediately put two on her plate and handed it back to her. Then Gajeel leaned forward. He had leaned against the tree all the time behind Levy.

"You see, it's slowly getting better again, Shrimp", he hummed softly into her ear and Levy nodded slightly. Juvia ate little and only in small bites, but slowly a touch of colour seemed to come into her pale cheeks again. And that made her incredibly happy.

"See you tomorrow", Levy beamed a big smile at the others. Gajeel looked as grim as ever while carrying the cooler and the carrier bag with the second blanket. Lucy smiled while Natsu had an arm wrapped around her waist. Juvia stood next to the two, but said nothing. She indicated a slight bow.

"Yes, see you tomorrow, Levy. Come home well and write if you're home okay," concern shimmered in Lucy's chocolate brown eyes and Levy nodded, grinned broadly.

"Don't worry, nothing will happen to us," she replied. Then they got on their socks and left the Dragneels' property. The air was a bit humid, it was still hot and the chirping of the cicadas filled the evening air. Music came muffled from some houses and in the distance you could hear the sounds of trains and cars.

"Do you think she can do it," Levy asked and worry lay in her features, her posture and her voice. Gajeel sighed deeply. Slowly it annoyed him. He knew that Juvia felt like shit, but he knew that she was stronger than that and got back on her feet. Of course it would take time to get over Gray, but she would make it. He knew that.

"Will be, believe me. She'll be fine," he returned and Levy looked up at him as he gave her a smirking grin. Redness spread in her cheeks and she giggled, then she nodded approvingly.

"Yes, I think so, too. And she still has her family," she agreed. Then Gajeel pushed himself in her way, bent down to her and kissed her. She leaned towards him, returned the kiss and heat crept through her body. His scent rose into her nose, filled her senses and both slowly separated again.

"And you have my old man and me, don't forget that," he said and his voice was deeper. The smile on her lips widened and she kissed him again as a consenting hum left her lips.

Juvia knew everyone was worried. And she understood it too. But she still needed some distance. It just couldn't be any other way. She couldn't pretend that she didn't care any more. That didn't work like that. She simply loved Gray too much for that. Natsu and Lucy had already gone inside and she pulled the brows together as she walked through the long corridors. The dark wood and the paneled walls were as always well maintained, shimmering softly in the light of the lamps. She stepped into the entrance area and to the telephone desk, writing down a short note that she was taking a little walk to clear her head. Then she slipped into her wedge heel sandals and left the property. Both Acnologia and his foster son Zeref would notice that she had left a message. Probably the latter rather than Acnologia, because she knew that Zeref was always keeping an eye on her. If she ever left the house. She followed the narrow side streets, listening to the chirping of crickets and cicadas, the muffled music, the laughter of families. Like a hushed shadow she walked almost silently through the poorly lit streets. But she had absolutely no fear. No one here would hurt her. They all knew her too well as a daughter of the Dragneel clan. Even though she had been adopted all these years ago.

She didn't have her phone with her, but she wouldn't have really paid attention to the time and so she just kept wandering around. She stepped into the light of a lantern and her gaze glided over the entrance of a smaller park. She didn't know how long she had been walking around, but she was less familiar with the area. Her gaze glided over a wide square. Moths danced in the lantern light and then grunting noises, dull moaning and the sounds of blows penetrated her ears. Confusion gripped her senses. She knew these kinds of noises and knew there was a fight going on.

A touch of curiosity surged inside her and her heartbeat accelerated slightly. The sand crunched quietly under her soles as she walked further into the park. She saw a modern toilet house, saw park benches and then she saw darkly dressed figures fighting each other.

Her eyes widened as she recognized who was messing with a group of thugs. Her heartbeat speeded up and fear painfully hit the claws in her stomach. She saw him skilfully dodging, handing out and seldom taking a blow. Time on Fairy Tail had made him harder.

She swallowed, felt a thick lump in her throat and again tears came to her eyes. Deep dark anger paired with an intense, concentrated look lay on his face. Blood was stuck on his right cheek because of a laceration and his lip was chapped. She saw in the dim light of the lanterns the blood on his hands, saw his injured ankles. Her heartbeat accelerated as he took a kick in the side. She heard the deep, painful grunt and her vision blurred. Her heart felt like it was made of shattered glass. She could barely breathe so much it hurt.

I shouldn't be here, she thought, swallowed and wanted to turn away when she saw something flashing. Her eyes widened and her body reacted all by itself. She sprinted to the beating adults and threw herself before Gray's unprotected back. The smacking sound of flesh and blood filled the air and pain roared in her body. Her vision blurred and as the attacker pulled out the knife she growled and struck. An animalistic screech came loose from her lips as she moved on to attack. Her instincts ordered her to protect him, defend him and eliminate any enemy who stood in her way. Roaring, hot rage roared through her body, burning with adrenaline through her veins. She jumped on the stranger and beat him up. Then she turned away from the unconscious one and turned to the next enemy. Even as she stood up and turned around, her vision blurred for a few seconds and Gray's horrified cry reached her ears. Everything began to spin and she blinked slightly.

Someone grabbed her by her upper arms and as she felt pain and warm wetness, she blinked violently, looking down. Blood colored the long blue dress continuously red and slowly she felt the pain through the adrenaline. Gray held her upright on her arms and for a moment stared only at the wound on her stomach. Then she slumped down.

Gray whirled around, one of those stupid idiots in the mangle, saw blue hair, a long blue dress. His eyes widened and he simply beat the guy unconscious, dropped him. The others started the retreat and he didn't quite know why, perceived it only marginally. He saw her go at one of the guys angrily like a fury, beating him into unconsciousness. His heartbeat speeded up and as she swirled around looking for her next opponent, his eyes widened in shock. Not because of her murderous facial expression, but because his gaze was magically drawn to the ever-increasing bloodstain.

"JUVIA", her name left his lips without him being able to prevent it and he passed the few meters. He saw her wobble slightly and grabbed her by the arms, holding her as she realized she had a wound. His heart pounded painfully loudly against his ribs and icy anxiety surged inside him as she collapsed. She had acted in adrenaline.

"No ... Ju ... oh fuck," he cursed, bringing out only vague words while his thoughts rested. Where was the nearest hospital? He went down on his knees slightly, shoved one hand under her knees and lifted her up skilfully. She weighed almost nothing. He swallowed and his panicked gaze flew across the side streets that bordered the park entrance. He didn't have a mobile phone with him and didn't take any money either. So he couldn't call a taxi, let alone call an ambulance. Gray gritted his teeth firmly together, tightened his grip around Juvias narrow figure and set himself in motion. He had been an asshole, he knew that, but he wouldn't let her die like that. And with this thought, he started running.

His body hurt, sweat stuck to his skin, his breathing was panting and although Juvia clearly weighed too little, it seemed to him that she was getting heavier with every step. Sweat was burning in his eyes as he came half jogging half stumbling through the automatic sliding doors of the hospital. He looked around hectically. His clothes were soaked with her blood and the panic crushed him. The roar of his heart drowned out the bustle of some nurses and a few doctors and other patients in the entrance area. But even if he had noticed these other people, he would not have really paid attention to them.

"HELP! FAST! SHE NEEDS A DOCTOR NOW," he roared like a madman. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. He felt the eyes of the strangers on him, felt the immediate silence, but his behavior and appearance, desperate, sweaty and bloody, set some of the nurses in motion immediately. A few seconds later, two emergency doctors came running up with a couch and helped him to gently place Juvia on it. He was pushed aside while Juvia was taken away and a doctor examined him, asked him questions, but he didn't listened to any of them. His gaze was fixed on the door behind which the doctors and nurses with Juvia had disappeared. Everything around him turned slightly, but he ignored the swindle. Dull, he heard someone talking to him, but his gaze was fixed on the door. Then a violent pain struck his cheek and his head flew to the side. He stared with big eyes at a doctor.

"I'm sorry, but you were too fixed and barely responsive. What is your name, how do you feel?", the doctor was smaller than him, but scrutinized him with a firm gaze, examining and conscientious. He blinked violently and swallowed, felt the burning in his throat.

"I ... Gray Fullbuster," he then said, "my name is Gray Fullbuster."

"Mr. Fullbuster, please sit down."

"No," he shook his head slightly and swayed slightly, but looked back at the door.

"It wasn't a request," the sound in her voice pulled his eyes back on her, and Gray saw the slender doctor's hard, stern gaze in front of him and swallowing lightly. Cold shivers crept up his back and he let her push him to a seating group. He examined her a little more closely. She had cyan hair, deep blue eyes and her skin was quite pale. The wide white gown and the sky blue doctor's clothes did not hide her female figure, though. His eyes briefly scurried to the name tag on her clothes. Dr. Aquarius Star. Then his eyes turned back to hers.

"So ... ", she began and pulled out a pen, made a note, " You' re Gray Fullbuster. Age?

"19," he said and rubbed his chest. He felt an unpleasant pulling in his heart and knew it was because Juvia was hurt. It was all his fault. His lips pressed into a tight line.

"And the young woman you brought us?"

"Juv-Juvia Dragneel, 18 years old," he said and his voice seemed shakier than it should. His hands clenched into fists and his gaze fell on the linoleum floor.

"Mhm ...," she grumbled and when he raised his gaze, he saw her eagerly writing down what he said.

"You wouldn't happen to know the phone number of her family?"

"I-I ...," he began and swallowed. Dr. Star looked at him with a waiting, cool look. Gray drove his trembling fingers through his hair, spreading some slowly dried blood on his face. He felt the exhaustion in his bones.

"I do ..." he said and did not dare to look at her. His gaze fell on his shoes and he gave her the number and address of Juvia's family. They would kill him. He somehow hoped so. He didn't deserve anything else. Feelings of guilt literally crushed him and pain pervaded his heart with every beat that it did. He was to blame for this accident. The doctor said she would send him a nurse to treat his wounds, but he didn't hear it. Then she rose to inform the family. She already felt sorry for Gray because she had also asked how it had happened and he had said it was his fault. She didn't necessarily believe that, but she recognized feelings of guilt when she saw them and he seemed to be literally crushed by his. Still, she clearly had more important things to do than look after a young adult. Sighing, she leaned against the reception desk and grabbed the phone without even looking at the sister in charge. Her eyebrows shrunk slightly as she typed in the number. It only rang twice when her call was answered.

"Dragneel."

"Good evening, this is Dr Star from Komazawa Hospital. Does a Juvia Dragneel live with you?" she asked, and there was a moment of silence.

"BOSS!", Aquarius held the phone a bit away from her ear as the stranger who had taken the call yelled for someone. And then it wasn't long before she heard the rustle of cloth at the other end and someone called again. Apparently the stranger had passed on the phone.

"Yes?"

"Good evening, this is Dr. Star from Komazawa Hospital. Does a Juvia Dragneel live with you?" she asked again and felt impatience rising inside her. She wasn't exactly the most patient person.

"Yes, she is my daughter."

"Ah, all right. I'm sorry to have to tell you, but she was brought in a few minutes ago. My colleagues have already started treatment. When can-"

"We're coming," Mr. Dragneel interrupted her with a deep growl and hung up. The only thing she could hear from the receiver was the sound of a broken connection and her eyes narrowed. She growled quietly and hung up. The nurse behind the reception area moved back a little.

"Rude pack," she growled and started to move again to take care of Juvia as well.

Hours seemed to have passed while Gray was sitting here. He had refused any treatment and could not be forced. His senses were numb, and when he had agreed to wash his hands and face, he had been allowed to wait in front of the room where Juvia had been placed. She was connected to machines that controlled her heartbeat and breathing. Gray didn't even notice that his hands were still shaking and whenever he stared at his now clean hands, he could still see her blood on them.

Steps resounded, reverberating quietly on the linoleum floor. He swallowed lightly and cautiously raised his gaze, staring at the angry face of Natsu Dragneel, her brother. A thick lump formed in his throat and his hands began to tremble even more. Pain burned through his chest and he barely managed to breathe properly.

"What.happened?" his voice was full of suppressed anger as Natsu choked those words out. Gray took a trembling breath. She seemed so fragile as she lay in that big bed and his heart seemed to break. He had never wanted to hurt her so badly. He had only wanted her to stay away from him. Gray had tried to protect her from his father's hatred, had lied about his feelings and had pretended something to everyone. He had also wanted to fulfill his father's expectations, but something like that happened that he hadn't wanted.

"I-I-I ...J-Juv- ...s-she ..." he stuttered and his voice broke away. Uncryed tears were burning in his eyes and his whole body was tense as his hands dug into his dark hair and clung to it. He should have prevented this.

"I-I... I'm sorry," hot tears rolled down his cheeks and dripped to the floor, his body began to tremble. He didn't know what to say to make it better. Everything he did was wrong. Then someone grabbed him by the collar, he was pulled to his feet and pain raced through his chin. Someone then rammed him against the wall in his back. Natsu's normally dark green eyes looked deep black with rage as he pressed Gray against the wall.

"Yes, it's your fault because all you're doing is hurting her. It would be better if you didn't exist at all. And believe me, the only reason you're still alive is that Juvia loves you too much, asshole," he growled.

"Natsu", a soft voice reached both their ears and when Gray slowly released the gaze and looked in that direction, there was a girl standing there. She was incredibly beautiful. She had hip-length, golden blonde hair, chocolate brown big eyes over high, majestic cheekbones, framed by a dense fine eyelash wreath, a pale, honey-gold skin, a female figure others only dreamed of. Even the simple, pink strap dress didn't change anything and didn't like to hide her beauty. But in his eyes she could hardly take on Juvia. Not even now. She seemed to be radiant while standing in the electric ceiling light. Natsu let Gray go immediately and hurried to her side. His knees gave way and he let himself slide down the wall, his hands still trembled and then further steps sounded. Without looking up, he knew the Dragneel clan had arrived. Gray looked up and a doctor came down the aisle, holding a clipboard and a coffee in the other. He looked tired, but most doctors looked tired in that department. While sipping the coffee, he read the papers he had in his hand. He stopped at Juvia's room, looked up, blinked and stared at the many people for a moment. And then Igneel Dragneel stormed towards the poor doctor.

"WHAT IS WITH MY DAUGHTER?" he yelled and before the frightened doctor could escape, the Oyabun of the Dragneel clan grabbed him by the collar. He stood well over the man's head and it was easy for him to lift him up and shake him. Gray stared stunned at the scene. Anger seemed to come out of him in waves. Anger and concern for his daughter lying in that room. Unconscious and connected to machines. Gray again lowered his guilty gaze to the ground, pulling his legs to his upper body. He wanted to sit here until she woke up so he could ask her forgiveness. No matter whether it killed him or not.

32 notes · View notes

meetmeinttukseom · 7 years ago

Text

Starting Over pt.1

pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader (ft. Yoongi)

Genre: College!au, Angst, Implied Smut

Word Count: 2661

When you saw the love of your life wrapped around those thin shoulders and ravished the lips of another girl, you quickly closed you eyes and told yourself you must be dreaming. It can't be him, it can't be him, why would my Tae Tae be kissing another girl in Friday night at a tightly packed club? But you opened your eyes and there he was, Kim Taehyung so ethereal and blissed out. And it hurts that you're not the reason why.

You wanted to march to the wall where they both are a mess of limbs. You wanted to pull Taehyung away and slap the sense into him. You wanted to scream your lungs out, voicing out this anger, sadness and desperation that is brewing uncontrollably inside you. But all you could do was stare at them, tears clouding your eyes. Unable to witness the scene any longer, you turned your back and quickly told your friend who was having her birthday that your eye infection was acting up. Soon enough, you reached your dark apartment and you quickly slid down to the floor. For the next 6 hours you were a sobbing mess, endlessly questioning as to why he would do that to you. When you couldn't cry anymore, you felt so exhausted that you passed out on the floor. The cold hard flooring seemed to provide you with more comfort than the bed draped with cotton sheets you often shared with Taehyung, trapped in his warmth.

You woke up in the morning with a throbbing headache and swollen eyelids. Anyone who saw you would guess that you’re in midst of a horrible hangover, yet there wasn't even a hint of alcohol in your system. You sat dazed until the constant vibration of your phone snapped you awake. Instinctively you scooted over to the couch and reached over for your bag. Rummaging its inside for a few seconds before retrieving your phone. The notification bar showed couple of messages from your girlfriends asking if you were okay and to get well soon. You also received a snap from Hoseok asking if you were free today because he was dying to try that new cafe downtown for brunch. You were about to reply Hoseok when the letters Taetae suddenly popped up on your screen. It said:

Taetae: sorry i couldnt reply babe, i had long night at the studio. how was the party? did you hv fun? (8:30 pm sent)

Your heart started thundering and your fingers trembling as you dropped your phone on the floor. The memories came flooding back of him passionately ravishing another girl. Every little detail was burned to your mind from the way his hands caressed the back of her neck to her perfectly manicured nails that were raking his chest. You were at the edge of breaking down and tears were threatening to fall from your eyes eventhough you've cried so much last night. You held your legs close to your chest and buried your face into your knees. The emerald dress that you just bought is now crumpled and you realize how much of a mess you are. The dress was strapless but it doesn't reveal your cleavage nor it was tight enough to highlight your curves. You noticed you'd probably look like a prude if you were to stand next to the girl Taehyung was making out with last night. You remembered her leather mini dress that barely covered anything as it had holes here and there. Her long hair was perfectly curled, red polish adorned her nails and her face was plastered with heavy smoky eyes and full-on red lips that smudged off on Taehyung. You had to admit that she looked attractive but you had expected your boyfriend to have at least some self-control with himself. It was no question that they both went home together, especially with alcohol in their system.

Perhaps he just doesn't love you anymore. Perhaps he was getting sick of you. Perhaps you were too caught up in making him happy that you didn't realize he was getting tired of you.

Eventhough it felt like bricks were stacked on your shoulders and somebody had repeatedly slammed their first on your face, you got up and went inside your bedroom. You purposely tried to avoid looking at your bed as it would remind you of Taehyung’s soft, sleeping figure. Both of you had too many pillow fights and heated sessions on it. You’d like to burn your bed and get a new one if you could.

Shaking off your thoughts, you quickly headed towards the shower and was not surprised to see as if someone had rubbed your makeup all together. Not wanting to look like a monster any longer, you washed yourself from head to toe. The hot water washed the grime off your body but the stabbing pain inside your chest remains. You quickly threw on new underwear, fresh pair of jeans and a yellow scallop-collared shirt. You weren't in the mood to make yourself look pretty so you sticked to very basic makeup.

Despite the thunderstorm in your heart, the weather outside was sunny so you skipped your jacket and slung your canvas bag over your shoulder. You head outside wishing that you could soak up the sun and feel a little bit better about yourself.

When you stepped out of your apartment, you made your way to the coffee shop nearby and ordered an espresso shot. While waiting, you whipped out your phone and answered all the messages and emails. You had to turn down Hoseok with a lame excuse of 'a really bad hangover' as you don't really feel like talking to anyone. Mainly because the second you meet your friends, they're going to know something was wrong. And you've always been weak at hiding things or handling emotions so you knew you'd end up spilling everything or managing to stay quiet but bitchy the whole day. You weren't ready to do a show and tell of what you saw. So you decided to take things slow this week and use the opportunity to take some time off from your friends, your classmates, your part-time boss, and especially, from Kim Taehyung.

The caffeine in your veins seemed to have done a good job in taking away the anxieties building up inside you. You felt slightly assured with the warm coffee in your hands and your bus card in the other. It's okay, you're going to be okay. Your boyfriend did cheat on you over the course of the night but you're still going to the 8 am class, look at you moving on so well. Attendance is 30% of your college grade and you're not letting anything ruin your perfect attendance, especially not your cheating boyfriend. You've even went to class on your sick days and today's not an exception. Despite trying as hard as you can to look fine, you were crumbling inside. If someone had looked at you closely, they would notice the trembling fingers, swollen eyeballs that was haphazardly covered with concealer. But one would never know how your stomach would turn upside down every time you remember what you saw last night.

Surprise surprise, you entered a bathroom cubicle instead of the classroom you're supposed to be attending. The thoughts of school and your commitment to perfect attendance soon vanished as tears streamed down your face on your way to class. Your so-called phase of moving on did not go as well as planned. Dammit, even the espresso didn't work! Your mind is a melting puddle of disappointment, anger, sadness that you can barely comprehend. But all you know is that it hurts, it fucking hurts. When you asked yourself repeatedly, why does this hurt so bad? Why does it feel like someone stabbed a knife in your chest? The little voice in your head answered,

Becaused you loved him.

You loved him so bad.

Taehyung woke up in a sea of crumpled sheets and groaned as he felt the pounding headache from the too many vodka shots last night. It felt too warm for his liking as he tried getting up from the bed. His movements halted when he realized a pair of arms wrapped around his bare waist. Dumbfounded, he looked up and saw a head with blonde hair strewn all over the place. He was about to snuggle closer until he realized you didn't have blonde hair nor spray-tanned skin. Taehyung was about to scream and kick this intruder out of his bed that was supposed to be reserved for only you when memories of last night came flooding in. His lips heavily pressed against bright pink lips, heavy scent of perfume, loud music, the pungent mix of alcohol and smoke. And then the memories he regretted most, his arm around the waist cladded with cheap lingerie, whispering sweet nothings to an ear filled with metallic piercings as his fingers traced her sides of fading tattoos. Throughout the whole flashback, all he could think about is how much it would hurt if you knew. All he could do now is silently unwrap the arms that felt so foreign and step into the shower. Wishing he could wash away his guilt and feelings with hot water and soap, yet he can’t help but to feel completely disgusted of himself.

If only he didn't follow Namjoon to the club so that he could ‘loosen up’. It's true that he's been stressing over the game that was coming very soon. As much as he spent late nights in the university sports hall, trying to let the tricks and moves engrave in his muscles and bones, it didn't always turn out the way he wanted during practice. And you've been so busy with your mid terms that you couldn't accompany him in the sports hall as much as he wants you to. It wasn't your fault, he knew you tried so hard to take care of him despite your busy schedule. You always replied to his texts and asked how he was. You slipped in video calls during your private studies and brought over chicken and health extracts into his morning practice. You tried so hard and yet he cheated on you.

He felt like a monster, how could he ever cheat on you for a sudden surge of lust. No, not even lust, it was him taking out his frustration and anxieties on something so meaningless and wrong. All Taehyung want is to forget all this mess but the naked figure wrapped in his sheets is a constant reminder of how much of a monster he is.

You skipped the 8 am class and spent the whole period in the cubicle. You knew everyone was going to stare at your swollen, tear-stained face if you came into class so you decided not to go. Instead you took the bus to go back to your apartment so you can hold another pity party for yourself.

On your way home, you made a pit stop to the convenience store. You needed to buy a whole bottle of red wine because you're going to be needing a lot of alcohol in your system to let loose. While you're at it, you also purchased a giant wine glass, 5 boxes of flower-scented kleenex and an extra large bag of cheese balls. While you were at the wine asile, desperately looking for a good bottle of red wine, you heard someone say,

“Wait, y/n?”

You turned to see who it was and noticed a familiar face of pale skin and tousled black hair. He was wearing black t-shirt and ripped jeans with sneakers. You could tell that he really likes the color black as his beanie was pitch black like the rest of his outfit, excluding his white sneakers. And you only knew one person who would wear an all black ensemble at daylight in the middle of summer.

"Yoongi?" you can't believe your eyes, it's been so long.

When he smiled, you knew that it was none other than your middle school best friend, otherwise known as Min Slug due to his slow and lazy tendencies. The both of you spent a good 2-minute hugging each other in the middle of the wine aisle.

"It's been 3 years and you still dress like a ninja," you teased.

"And you still spend too much money on cheeseballs," your eyes widened at how he managed to notice the bag of extra cheddar cheeseballs in the shopping basket.

"Gosh we're meeting after so long and we're already jabbing at each other," you laughed.

"That pretty much sums up our relationship," he was smiling until he noticed that you’re in the wine aisle in broad daylight with boxes of kleenex stacked inside your basket. He figured it can only be two options, either you're planning for a 5 season marathon of Modern Family or you have, well, relationship problems.

Yoongi wasn't too sure if he should be asking this but his gut is forcing him to bring it up, "You okay?"

You knew Yoongi was very sensitive with his and other people’s emotions even when he doesn’t look like it. But it was your pride that held you back from crying in his shoulders and telling him everything. You mustered all your energy to keep a cheery face and say,

"What do you mean? I'm doing great!"

"Then why are you looking for something at the wine aisle in broad daylight?" he eyed you suspiciously and you avoided his eye contact, "The y/n I know always says 'alcohol is great for cooking, not the human body'."

You laughed at his comment and you knew you couldn't hide anything from someone whose seen your braces and permed hair phase.

"Is it boy problems?" he hit it bull's eye and you couldn't say anything even though you want to.

Taehyung checked his phone again and again to see if you've replied his message. But the chat still read 8:30pm sent (unread). That's weird, he thought, you'd always reply to his texts no matter how busy you are. Maybe you drank too much last night and slept over at your friend’s place. But normally even in parties, you barely ever drank as you had always been the responsible friend. His thoughts were pushed away by the sudden shuffling in his bedroom. He stayed quiet in the bathroom, quietly wishing the girl would just leave without a trace. After waiting a rather suspenseful few minutes, he heard the opening and closing of his apartment's front door.

He went outside the bathroom and found his apartment empty, hence he couldn't help but to breathe a sigh of relief. The bed was a mess but the black puddle of dress is now gone along with her sparkly purse that was thrown on the floor the previous night. A part of him was grateful that the girl clearly understood the notion of one night stand. But looking at his crumpled sheets that was stained with heavy makeup, he felt the weight grow heavier in his chest. The pang of guilt seemed to drag him lower and lower to the floor. Without any hesitance, he took off all the bedding and stuffed it inside the washing machine. As he watched the white sheets turn over and over inside the washing machine, his mind is filled the dilemma of whether he should tell her? A voice in his head nagged him that he should come clean and tell you everything then apologize big time. But at the back of his mind, he knew he could lose you at his confession. And maybe he’s selfish but he can't bear to lose you. He's too afraid to give you up eventhough he knew he didn't deserve you.

Not after what he did.

Author’s note: this series will be my first work that exceeds the 10k word limit, it took me SO long to finish everything. There will be 2 more parts after this one that will be posted next week, right after I proof-read everything!!

#bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts angst #taehyung angst #kim taehyung #bts v #bts taehyung #bts taehyung angst #v angst #college!au #taehyung x reader #min yoongi #suga #bts suga #min suga #startingover!series

206 notes · View notes

jetblackashtonhemmings · 7 years ago

Text

School Blows // Ashton Irwin

Warnings: Smut, language

MASTERLINK

“Y/N, is that you?” Your mom called. You sighed and nodded but then realize you were in two completely different rooms and she couldn’t see you.

“Yeah, it’s me. Can I go to Ashton’s to study?” You asked. There was a brief moment of silence.

“That’s fine. Be home by nine!” She appeared at the top of the stairs and you walked back out the front door to Ashton’s car. You sat in the passenger seat and sighed.

“You okay, babe?” Ashton asked as he backed out of your driveway. You put your head on the window and nodded.

“Just a headache. But, I’m surprised with myself!” You cheered happily.

Ashton let out a small chuckle. “Why’s that?”

“I didn’t kill anybody today!” You laughed and gave a cheesy grin.

“What do you want? A gold star?” Ashton sassed. You gave him a death glare and punched his arm. He faked sobbed and you rolled your eyes playfully which caused a smile to spread across your face.

“School just blows honestly.” You sighed and continued looking out the window.

“Why blow school when you can blow me?” He asked. You rolled your eyes playfully.

“If you help me, maybe.” You let into his question without him even asking it. His parents were currently out of town so now was the time to do anything.

“Wait, really?” He smiled brightly and you shrugged. Ashton pulled into his driveway and parked his car, turning the ignition off. You grabbed your bag out of the back seat and unbuckled your seat belt. Before you knew it, Ashton was on your side and he opened the door for you. You got out and he closed it. His long calloused fingers intertwined with yours and you walked into Ashton’s house. You kicked off your Vans and looked at the pictures you’ve seen millions of times.

“I still can never get over baby Ashton.” You smiled. You saw his face turn a different shade of pink and he pulled you away from the pictures.

“Y/N, you make the comment almost every time you’re over.” He sighed. You shrugged and suddenly you were over Ashton’s shoulder.

“Ashton put me down!” You screamed but you couldn’t help but laugh. He ran upstairs and he swiftly opened the door and dropped you onto his queen sized bed. You looked into his light orbs and he looked into Y/E/Ced orbs.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you how beautiful you are,” he mumbled. You felt your face get hot and you bit your lip. He came down and your lips connected. The simple kiss turned into a small make-out session.

“Ashton you promise you’d help me study.” You whined. Ashton sighed and nodded his head. You sat up and threw your hair into a ponytail before walking downstairs to his living room. You sat on the dark-colored leather couch and crossed your legs. You began pulling your books out of your bag along with your notebook. You were the worst at calculus and surprisingly, Ashton was good with it so you asked him to tutor you.

“Ashton hurry up!” You yelled. You heard his hard footsteps come down the stairs and soon to the living room. He was no longer in his black skinnies but now in his gray sweatpants. Fuck, he always looked so good in those.

You bit your lip and watched as he sat next to you. You stared at his covered torso and began getting some thoughts in your head that you shouldn’t be having at the moment.

“Staring isn’t polite, Y/N.” Ashton laughed. You gave a sly smile before turning your focus to the large textbook. You opened your notebook to the few equations you had done.

“Okay, so you take that and divide it by that,” Ashton pointed. You punched the numbers into your calculator.

“Ashton we’ve been doing this for an hour now,” you groaned. You set your pencil down and put your head back. You checked your phone and it was only four.

“Y/N were almost done. Just a few more.” He chuckled. You rubbed your eyes and sighed as you continued writing down equations. He watched as you did the problems.

His hand was on your thigh and he rubbed small circles with his thumb. You bit your lip as thoughts started coming back into mind.

“Ash, I can’t concentrate with you doing that.” You said quietly. He looked at you with a raised brow and you kept going. Each time you got a problem right, his hand would move upward, getting close to your core. You squeezed your thighs together hoping to relieve some pressure. Ashton was making this hard then it really needed to be.

You only had 5 problems left before his hand slipped under your skirt. Your breath hitched and you looked at Ashton, who gave you a sly smirk.

“Keep going.” He insisted.

“Ashton, I can’t focus with you-“

“I said keep going.” He demanded. You gritted your teeth and as you went on, his fingers brushed against your covered folds. His lips came in contact with your neck, instantly finding your sweet spot. You let out a breathy moan and set the pencil down.

“I’ll stop,” he paused. You groaned and finished the last problem as fast as you could.

“There, I’m done. Can we please take this upstairs?” You moaned. You put everything back into your bag and Ashton picked you up off of the couch again. You laughed and it soon turned into a moan as he grabbed your ass.

You felt the soft material of Ashton’s bed under you. His hands rested on both sides of you and his lips connected with yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck. The slow, passionate kiss soon turned heard and rushed. You moaned into the kiss as his hand made its way back up your skirt again. You heard a tear and then a pain that soon went away. You pulled away.

“Ashton, those were my favorite!” You gasped seeing the maroon lace material on the floor.

“Baby, I’ll buy you twenty new pairs. I think you’ll live.” He replies. His lips connected with your neck. You opened your mouth to say something but instead of words, a moan escape as two of his slender fingers slipped inside of you roughly.

“Fuck,” you gasped “Ashton please don’t stop,” you moaned loudly. His thumb rubbed circles on the bundle of nerves. You were quickly getting closer to your climax. Your walls tightened and Ashton’s pace sped up.

“Not yet,” his lips connected with yours and your moans became whimpers. Your thighs wanted to close but Ashton held them open with his other hand.

“Okay,” he smiled. You whimpered as you hit your high and let the euphoria take over your body. You breathed heavily as you stood up. Ashton put his fingers to your mouth and you opened obediently. Wrapping your kiss-swollen lips around his fingers, Ashton watched you with astonishment.

“Jesus fuck, I’m so lucky,” he groaned. You pulled away from his fingers, making a small pop.

“We aren’t finished, Irwin. I made you a deal.” You got down on your knees and fumbled with his belt buckle. Ashton slid off his shirt and you grabbed the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down along with his boxers.

His tip was red and there was a small amount of pre-cum leaking out. Your mouth basically watered at the sight of how big he was.

You ran your thumb over his tip before taking his length into your mouth. You went all the way down before coming up and teasing his tip. Ashton tilted his head back and groaned. He grabbed a fist full of your hair. You licked up his shaft and took him into your mouth again.

“Fuck, Y/N, I can’t do the teasing. I need to fuck you.” He pulled you up and pushed you back onto the bed. He grabbed a condom that was in his wallet, tore open the foil packet and rolled it on. While he did that, you quickly discarded your shirt and bra.

What? Things get heated in his car sometimes, okay?

He raised a brow and you nodded. One thing you loved about Ashton was no matter how rough he was with you, he would always make sure you were okay. Even if there was the slightest bit of discomfort, he would stop.

He slid into you slowly and you wrapped your legs around his hips. His thrusts were slow and steady but they soon became sharp and rough. Your nails came in contact with Ashton’s back. He winced at the scratching but he picked up his pace. It gave him a feeling of more power.

He slowed down for a moment to readjust before he continued again. He hit your g-spot causing you to cry out. He hit the sport multiple times causing you to reach another high. It was approaching slowly but it quickened as Ashton rubbed the bundle of nerves profusely.

“Ash, please let me- ah shit,” you were cut off by a moan.

“Let it out baby,” Ashton grunted before his thrusts became sloppy. You rode our your highs together, letting the familiar feeling of euphoria take over.

Ashton discarded the condom and slid his boxers on and you both crawled under the blankets. You turned the television on and put your head on his chest. You were aware that you still didn’t have your shirt but Ashton had seen you naked so many times that it didn’t even matter.

“Just stay over princess. You have extra clothes.” Ashton suggested. You nodded your head.

“Can we get Chinese?” You asked, looking up at him

“Yes, we can get Chinese.” He laughed.

“I will gladly stay over.” You gave him a cheesy smile and Ashton wiped away a fake tear.

“Wow, you only love me because I buy you food.” He fake sobbed. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Ashton Fletcher Irwin, I love you and everything about you. I don't care that you buy me food or spoil the shit out of me even when I hate that you spend money on me, you are my forever.” You whispered the last part and you felt his lips kiss your forehead, lingering there for a minute.

“I love you so fucking much, Y/N”

#ashton irwin #ashton 5sos #ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin imagine #ashtonirwin #ashton irwn 5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos #5sauce #5 sauce

104 notes · View notes

leslieeve · 7 years ago

Text

Sick of Being Sick.

Just the beginning... Hi, my name is Leslie, I'm 36 years young, and l am currently living the battle of my life. I'm talking a figurative blood and guts UFC fight. Medically, emotionally, spiritually and financially I could have never imagined the intense downward spiral that my life would begin in the spring of 2014. This could have happened to anyone, but it chose me. I entered into and started living a chapter out of a Steven King novel. I'd like to preface my journey by saying that I used to work 2 waitressing jobs, 7 days a week. I prided myself on being kind, generous, a hard worker and pretty freaking witty. Sarcasm was my best friend. I had 5 cats who I loved more than anything, and lived in my house that I bought in 2002, and kept 100% by myself. I loved being crafty, scrap-booking, journalling (since I was 14- I have about 37 of them), cleaning obsessively and making people smile. I'd been accused of, "liking everybody" and, for the most part- I did! That's why I loved waitressing so much, I met amazing individuals on a daily basis, and for an hour or so, I was able to make them happy. So, summing this up, I'm one of those annoying 'smiley' people, and I love it... How to begin blogging a nightmare... Well, It all started on May 5, 2014, my sweet bunny was losing his battle to pancreatitis, and we were at the veterinarians office. I was laying around him on the floor, sobbing like an infant as he took his last breath. After a half hour, I got up off of the floor to move to another room with him, and noticed the ridiculous pain and swelling in my knees. I sat with him for 3 additional hours, saying prayers and telling him how much I love him. My heart was broken and now I was facing headache and flu-like symptoms. By the time I drove home, I was incredibly sick. (I really mastered the art of 'puking while driving' starting that night.) For the next few MONTHS I had a constant fever of 104, night-sweats, fatigue, exhaustion, swollen hot shiny red joints, nausea, chills, vision problems, breathing difficulties, dizziness etc. Being my Father's daughter, and having been raised as a fighter- I was still trying my very, very best to continue to work an overflowing schedule. I was a head waitress at both jobs and I was failing miserably. I wasn't eating because my mouth had a funny taste, I had zero appetite and the fatigue was unreal. Coca-Cola had become my litmus paper, as to how sick I was everyday. I would buy bottled Coke, and by sipping it and seeing what it tasted like 'that day'- I could gauge the severity of my illness for the next few hours. I was not bathing, or even taking my clothing off when I was home. I would just sleep in my uniforms (shoes and all) until it was time for work the following day. My knees had become so swollen that I had to cut my pants on the sides to make more room. Breathing was getting tougher too. I would find myself having to stop and force myself to take deep breaths. If I exerted myself too much I would end up laying on a booth, numb, shaking and drooling, with incredible difficulties trying to get verticle. If I took the risk and showered, I had to set aside 60 minutes to lay naked on the bathroom floor because I was 100% drained. Again, drooling, slurring and borderline consciousness. What was happening to me?!!? F.Y.I. puh-lease don't think I wasn't going to the doctor during all of this terror, because I was. A lot. A looot. My Dad was making my appointments and driving me weekly, all while he was watching me slowly die. Just waste away. (His car now sporting a smooth "vomit" scent, thanks to me.) The doctor was putting me on antibiotics one day and anti-inflammatories and steroids the next, unfortunately I was only getting worse. The fever continued to hang around and some nights would hit 104.6. All of the vomiting was ruining my throat, my knees were so swollen and hot to the touch, that they could melt bags of ice- in minutes. With those 2 symptoms and a blood test, he diagnosed me with Rheumatoid arthritis immune disease. From that point forward it appeared that ALL of my symptoms were from RAID. It was as if the doctor stopped looking for the root of my demise, because he found one. Maybe he was scared too, but so was I damn it and my health was deteriorating at the speed of McDonalds drive-thru during lunch-time. One evening in early October, I honestly thought it may be the end for me. I woke coughing up blood, and felt as if every inch of my body had giving up, I was out of gas, and barely running on fumes. Out of pure desperation and necessity, I went to an Emergi-Care center in Bethlehem. (First, I left a note behind on who would take my cats, incase I would never return home.) The doctor was very blunt (a.k.a. a$shol*) and as he talked AT me, he said he thought I was unbelievably sick, and that he thought that I would surely die if I left the building. Then he scolded me for getting sooo ill, and then decided that he couldn't treat me, because I had "chosen" to wait too long to see him (a man I'd never met before). I was seeing a physician, but it hadn't been him and he was clearly annoyed and disgusted with me. He reluctantly did a flu swab of my nose (that he said I didn't need, because it wasn't the flu virus) which came back negative. So then his majesty stepped off of his high-horse long enough to put me on the antibiotics which combat Anthrax, and that was that. What? Anthrax? Because I was exposed when I was never in the military? What an incredible mind fu*k, and 3 hours that I will never get back. I rate his bedside manner a big fat zero. So, I went home, spooned with my Eddie cat, and cried myself to sleep- which didn't take long because I was dehydrated and falling apart. Needless to say, I continued to get sicker. I'm 5'10" and was barely weighing 95lbs. My once tan skin had morphed into a light yellow hue, my lips were red, but now were cracking, peeling and gray. My eyes had always been green and bright, framed in mascara, however they'd become blurry, wet and had large dark bags underneath. I constantly smelled mold in my nose. At this point I had been suffering for almost 5 months with these horrendous symptoms. Alone in my house, afraid that each nap had become a gamble that I would lose, and not wake up. Russian roulette immune disease style. My Dad had simply had enough. He was not going to sit by and bury his best friend- he was putting his foot down NOW. He took me to the doctor yet another time. However, this time, he put aside his gentle, humorous demeanor and told the doctor in no uncertain terms that he was watching his daughter die and that if he didn't do something else to help me, he would call his attorney and sue him for malpractice. Shockingly enough (insert sarcasm here), the doctor suddenly had a fire lit under his ass and ordered me an emergency appointment with a highly respected rheumatologist. She normally has a 3 month wait, but not for this sicky- It was Friday, and the appointment was for Monday. Just one question though... how on earth was I going to survive the weekend?! Woke up early Monday and crawled to my front door. I slept on the floor, vomiting relentlessly, all weekend because I couldn't muster up the energy to walk. My superhero Dad then had to basically carry me to his car. Once buckled in I proceeded to vomit and cry because I was too weak to sit up. Thankfully my Dad tried his best to stock the car with pillows, blankets, water, crackers and plastic bags so it took the edge off of sitting in traffic. Every car ride seemed hours long, I couldn't wait get back in bed or atleast lay on the floor. We arrived at the new doctors around 11am, she dressed very unprofessionally, tight work out spandex. Da fuq? She took one look at me and said that I was incredibly sick. No sh*t sherlock. While listening to my heart, she asked "how long have you had this heart murmur?" I told her that I don't have one and never did. She put the stethoscope to my ears- I had a f*cking heart murmur?? Immediately, sent me for a plethora of blood work and cultures, 16 I think, which drained me severly. I had almost passed out when my Dad showed up with O.J. and muffins- to save the day. Again, he carried me out to the car and took me home. He tucked me in, and I slept for 20 straight hours. I didn't get up to eat or even use the toilet. The following morning I felt better than I had in a very long time. Maybe some of the useless medications were finally starting to kick-in. I took a chance, (a.k.a. stubborn) and drove myself to my psychologists office for my 2:00pm appointment. We were about half-way into my mind enlightening session when my phone rings. Then again. Then again. So, I looked at my therapist with lump in my throat and picked up my phone. 3 missed calls from my family doctor. Then my phone rings and it's him again. I answer and it's my doctor, he says that I have a horrible infection in my blood and that I need to drop everything and RACE to the hospital. He said to run red lights go through stop signs, speed and if I get pulled over- keep going and the hospital would explain it to the police. After a quick "ohmyGod" and freak out, my psychologist hugged me and I promised to go directly to the ER. So, I did what anyone else would do, I went home and I fed my 5 cats. What the heck was I thinking you ask? Well, I figured that I would only be in the hospital a day or two and that if I fed them and cleaned their litter boxes then no one would have to come care for them while I was in the hospital. Plus, I really needed a hug from my Eddie-cat. As anyone who knows me will vouch and say that I might be just a little bit obsessed with my pets. Haha. Especially Eddie-cat, I worried about that feline like nobody's business. I got my much desired cat-fix, and then shortly after, I got in my car and headed towards the hospital. (I may have also stopped for a Coke- my memory's a touch foggy... I totally did.) As soon as I got there my dad was already waiting for me. (#bestdadever) I could see the pain and fear in his eyes and it truly broke my heart. We ended up waiting 2 hours in the dirtiest emergency room. We killed time laughing and joking until they finally called my name. (Kind of ironic since they told me to race to the hospital, but anyhow.) Dun dun dun. The nurse put me in a bed in the emergency department and hooked me up to IV saline and antibiotics. Dad and I watched bad tv, until they took me upstairs and gave me a room alone, in infectious disease. I was fairly relaxed, happy to finally end this era of illness, when the nurse came in to ask how I felt about my upcoming open heart surgery. MY WHAT?! No, no, no I told her, I was in for a blood infection. Silly nurse, get your mind right. She said the doctor would be in to speak to me momentarily. Ten minutes or so passed, and my Dad walked into my hospital room. Yeah! All is good, my Daddy is here... and then the doctor walked in behind him. Ugh oh. This nightmare is suddenly very real again. My Dad, looked more handsome than ever. His blue eyes had been crying as he walked over and took my hand. The doctor stood on my other side and explained to me that I had an infection in my blood and that it had destroyed the mitral valve in my heart. He said that the next day, I would be transferred to a larger hospital and would spend 2 months there on intense IV antibiotics before I would have to have open heart surgery to replace my mitral valve. I went into shock. Open heart surgery?!? They're going to break my chest?? But I don't have heart problems!!! I just have a blood infection!!! I'm only 33 years old!!! I want Eddie cat! My dad and I hugged and cried for the next 2 hours. I finally sent him home around 10:00pm to get some sleep. Loneliness and pure terror set in fast and I couldn't bare to be away from him, so I called on the phone and we talked all night. The following morning, as promised, the doctors and nurses packed me up in an ambulance and I was transported to a much larger hospital. Once I arrived I was quickly set up into "infectious disease." Heavy antibiotics were a-flowing. Every inch of the place was an upgrade. Once I was left alone, my thoughts flooded my mind. I tried to start figuring out how I was going to survive this travesty, pay my bills and most importantly- who was going to help take care of my five cats??? Fu*k. Fu*k. Fu*k. The doctors tell me that they are not certain how I contracted this infection. I hadn't been out of the country, nor had I undergone any dental surgery which could have welcomed the bacteria. Well that's zero help. Endocarditis. My possible kryptonite... The next few days I mentally took a bubble bath in my shock. I was trying to wrap my mind around spending the next 2 months in the hospital BEFORE undergoing open heart surgery. I became introverted, not wanting to Facebook my drama, or even text friends. I felt a strange numbness take over me, and honestly decided that I would make the best of it. I had multiple medical procedures and I did my very best to make the doctors laugh and tell them about my cats, of course. Looking back, I was nervous as all hell. I even neglected to press charges on a customer from my old job who consistently showed up UNINVITED into my hospital room. Stalker much? The hospital ended up having to put a password on my room, before all deliveries, calls and visitors were allowed in. Not to be all, "poor me" but seriously dude, just sooo not the time for a creepy creeperson. On the bright side, my mother who hadn't contacted me in over a year at this point, did text me twice- to ask if the doctors were giving me enough antibiotics. (She's no doctor, so her "medical concern" was hilarious) I had to fight the urge to sarcastically reply, "Antibiotics? Good idea! Thank Gawd you texted me when you did, the doctors hadn't thought of that!" But, I was sweet as a blueberry muffin. By the way, those were the first and last two texts that I heard from her. (Now, 3 years later she has never even once contacted me. Not. One. Single. Time.) Ahh, a mother's love. Ha. Friday, October 31st- Another day, another dollar. Ha, juuust kidding, it's another day full of tests and procedures. I was taken upstairs for an internal ultrasound/view of my heart. Basically, they knock you out and gently push a scope down your throat. This technique gets them extremely close to your heart for an excellent read in cardiac patients. So, after my test was done they woke me up... ohemgee, what medicine did they give me?! I saw a giant dippy egg with bacon, a 5 foot tall cat, a cow standing on its hind legs and a MINION. This. Was. Amazing. I later learned, as the anestethics wore off, It. Was. Also. Halloween. doh. 4 days into my stay at the hotel, I mean hospital, it was getting harder and harder to breathe (Maroon5?). It felt as though I had a gorilla sitting on my chest. I would get spells where it became so difficult to inhale, the nurses would come rushing in my room, rip my gown off, hook me up to oxygen and inject my IV with morphine until I could take a deep breath. I apologize to any and all of my visitors who showed up at the wrong time- and had to witness this. Sorry? You're welcome? (I now know, I was having a difficult time breathing because I was internally bleeding. Shame on you.) It was Saturday, November 1st around 7pm and I was watching Despicable Me for the +/-30th time. Hey- a free cable movie channel is a free movie channel, no matter the circumstance. Not only that, but Minions were making me unbelievably happy. My friends will vouch for me, I never even liked cartoons. (Well, except for Nickelodeon cartoons. #TommyPickles.) Perhaps it was providing a 90 minute escape for me, maybe it was appealing to the crying little girl inside of me- I don't know, but it helped fill a void, and I'm still grateful for Gru. Anyhow, while I was embracing the yellow and eating gummy bears (Albanese- my Dad ordered specially from Indiana) my future heart surgeon popped his angelic head in. I offered him gummy bears- even the red ones; he said that it looked like I was right on track as much as I could be and to just relax and they would take care of me at the hospital. He said to get comfortable because I would be there 8 weeks before the surgery. So around 10 weeks total. Well, ok,*sighs* it could be worse, it sounds like I can, "simmer dawn naw." WRONG. Five minutes pass and my surgeon comes back. He said that he checked my latest blood levels and my oxygen was far too low, I would reqire surgery in the next 12 hours or be dead before Thanksgiving. I felt all of the blood rush out of my upper body. Next, a cardiac nurse came into my room and gave me the choice of a Pig Valve or a Mechanical Valve, to be implanted into my heart to relace the damaged Mitral Valve. (Being vegeterian at the time, I thought this was incredible irony.) She weighed out the pros and cons for me as to which valve to choose. All I really remember hearing was that the Pig Valve had to be replaced every 10 years, and being so young that would demand atleast 5 more open heart surgeries in my lifetime. So, I thought it was a simple choice. Mechanical valve = forever vs. 10 year Pig Valve: I went for the mechanical valve. Then I had to do something much harder, call my Dad. It was incredibly difficult to dial my Dads telephone number. I knew that I was about to ruin any type of peace he was able to salvage for the evening, he would soon be as devestated as me, this still felt surreal. I felt selfish and heart broken having this kind of power over my fathers emotions. He answered on the first ring, as usual. My being so immensly ill had really been taking it's toll on him, emotionally, physically and spiritually. His little girl being so sick, and he could do nothing to fix me. Little did he know, HE was the reason that I wanted to be fixed. I cared more about him having to deal with my death, than I did my own life. There was no way in hell that I was going to let my Dad bury me. I would NEVER be responsible for putting him through that pain. Back to the phone call, my Dad answered cheerfully (for my benefit of course) and asked how I was feeling. I would say that, that is the very moment when my tears started falling, I couldnt catch my breath, but finally slobbered out that the heart surgeon had just been in my room and that I would be having surgery at 7:00am. I could hear him choking back the tears as he told me that this would get me home to Eddie-Cat faster. My Dad, always the optimist, and I stayed on the phone for the next 6 hours. We cried, talked about old times, (I also crammed food down my throat until midnight) and finally we decided that I was going to get through this. It cant be my "time." One tiny detail that I failed to mention before was that I was given a 37% chance of surviving. I sat alone in my hospital bed and wrote goodbye letters to my friends and a few chosen family members. Was I really doing this? Possibly saying GOODBYE to my life? Was I going to be dead in just a few short hours? It upset me that I might never see Eddie cat again. Who would explain to him that I didnt leave him by choice? That I died because of an infection. That I was so so sorry, and that I tried my best. All 5 of my cats, nobody was ever going to love them like me. I couldnt entertain the thought of losing my kids- I made a vow to save them forever when they were rescued, and now I was disappearing from their lives forever. This was all too much. I was sick to my stomach as I stared at the clock, counting down the seconds until my Dad, twin brother and friend were scheduled to arrive. Sadly, my twin brother never showed up. He never even called to wish me luck and it absolutely shattered my heart into a million pieces. I wanted to see my womb-mate so badly. I knew that we were no longer close but my soul really ached to be hugged with his arms. It really destroyed my feelings, but I did not have the time to dwell on it- it was 5:00am I had to start getting scrubbed down for surgery. I still felt fairly numb, more worried about seeming alright to try and ease my Dads horror. I was nervously joking around and begging the nurses for morsels of food. Then the dark cloud came. It was time. TIME FOR OPEN HEART SURGERY. Two nurses from transport and a doctor wheeled me down to the surgery floor, my Dad was walking next to me- I refused to let go of his hand. I was wheeled into a very well lit, curtained, waiting area. The operating room was empty. It was just myself and all of the nurses and doctors, no other patients. I later learned that Sunday mornings are reserved for emergencies. Look at me V.I.P. well, they made me feel that way anyhow. The nurses were exceptional- as they had been so far my entire stay. I was really blessed with the most amazing care. I mean, up until this point I would beg to estimate that the nursing staff had spent around 8 hours listening to me ramble on about my cats. I was a few minutes away from open heart surgery and I was getting make-up tips from one of the surgical nurses... well until the surgeon had to spoil my ignorance and walk in. He said they were ready for me and it would only be 2 or 3 minutes longer. Boom. That's when I turned into a two year old who needed her Daddy. He couldnt hold back his tears, and nor could I. I was wailing uncontrollably, telling my Dad how much I loved him. The fear was real. Very real. Almost indescribable to have to face the possibility of DEATH. This could be the very last time that I ever see my Dad. I was going into this obscenely serious surgery with horrendous odds. Who was I to think that I would survive fate? I had all but pulled my Dad into my hospital bed at this point. I just couldnt say goodbye. I wanted him to just hold me and make it all go away. But it was time. I held my Dads hands one last time and as they wheeled me down the hall, I yelled to him that I loved him and would see him soon. I secretly prayed that the next time he saw me, he would not be looking down at me, dead on a cold, steel table. I was given a sedative, and apparently it worked because shortly after I found myself complimenting everyone on "how nice they were," next I told my surgeon, "Don't let me die, I have my Dad and cus' nobody wants 5 cats." My doctors and all of the nurses did their very best to try and reassure me that I would wake up. A clear rubber mask was placed over my nose/mouth and I started slowly counting back from 100 (trying to enjoy the drug induced high and fight the anesthetics at the same time), and for the next 8 hours, my life was resting solely in the hands of this "Dream Team" surgical team. As you may have guessed already, I SURVIVED! It turned out that my heart was in much worse shape than previously expected, so not only did they have to replace my mitral valve but my aortic valve was covered in vegetation and needed to be scraped off. The doctor said that after seeing my heart, I would not have lived 2 more weeks without this procedure. I'm pretty fuzzy as to the timeline for the next few events. I recall waking up in a very bright room with lots of doctors around me. It was horrifying because the breathing tube was still down my throat, yet I felt like I was suffocating. In a complete panic I was trying to talk with my eyes, and scream to the nurses, "I can't breath!!" They must have read my mind because next thing I know, the nurse is leaning over my face telling me to relax. She said that the equiptment was breathing for me and that I just had to- annnnnnnnd I passed out. I woke up again, I guesstimate about 5 hours later. I was in a different room this time. It had a tiny little observation deck in it for a nurse to sit and, well, observe. I'm still with a breathing tube, but I'm a bit calmer this time. I can see all of the tubes coming out of my stomach, and I can see my chest raise up and down- with zero assistance from me. I didn't feel well. I was sick to my stomach and frightened. I was aware that my health was improving dramatically, but being alone and awake with my thoughts was extremely sad. The nurse came in to check my vitals, fluid loss, urine out-put etc. and realized that my body temperature was low. Especically for someone who just had major surgery. So, she covered me in what I remember to look like a space blanket. You know, those thin silver on one side, blue on the other ones? Think back to space field trips. Anyhow, it didn't take long until I was exceptionally warm. Then I began to sweat, next was the anxiety. I felt like I was cooking alive under this blanket, but nobody was around to tell. Even if they were, I had a breathing tube down my throat and was unable to speak properly. Fifteen minutes passed- no nurse. Tears were just continuously rolling down the side of my face. Thirty minutes passed- no nurse, it was beginning to feel like an eternity. At forty minutes I passed out for a few minutes and I woke up to the nurses taking the blanket off of me. Thank you Jesus! Praise The Lord! Once I cooled off, that was it for me it was lights out until the next morning. Rise and shine! No rest for the weary. The beautiful nurses had me up bright and early to remove my breathing tube. Hallelujah. Although I will admit it was not that easy to take my first unassisted breath, but I did it and in no time I was back to inhaling and exhaling with my own free will. Ill hold my breath if I want to damn it! A parade of white coats for the next 2 hours. I was avoiding looking at the 6 1/2 inch scar down the center of my chest. (and the scar from the pacemaker) I was still uneasy knowing that they had to break my sternum and WIRE it back together. After a brief unscheduled siesta, a young red haired man entered my room. He explained that he was there to remove my chest tubes and I basically told him that I accepted his challenge. Are you joking? Long, bumpy, blue, rubber tubes are INSIDE of my body and he's here to "pull them out?!" Insert gag and vomit here. Nope. Nope. Nope. Clearly he had dealt with trouble makers like me before, because his sweet talking game was on point. He said he would remove both tubes at once, and I would feel minimal discomfort. Ok, Prince Harry, let's go. He started by counting me down from 3. Try #1: 3...2... and I would interject, "No no no no no nope no no no no." Try #2 : 3...2... "No, no, nope, no thats enough no no no." After a pretty serious pep talk involving either living with the tubes forever VS. dealing with 3 seconds of slip and slide- I took a few deep breaths and decided this was gonna happen. Ok, this was it... Try #3: 3...2...1... and this freckled God pulled the tubes from my abdomen and quickly plugged the holes up with gauze to stop my bleeding. It felt exactly like you would imagine. As if he had gripped up my large intestine, and just pulled! I felt no pain, but it was the creepiest sensation having the bumps from the 2 feet of rubber being yanked inch by inch through your insides. Bucket list: Check! They really dont waste any time at the hospital. It was only the day after surgery, or the next day,(again still foggy) and the nurses were getting ready to have me sit up out of bed, in a chair. This sounded like a miserable suggestion. I verbally detested as much as possible, claiming that I felt sick to my belly and especially light headed. I was quickly assured that both symptoms were normal, but that I had nothing in my stomach to throw up. As she and the tech were trying not to pull IV's out of my arms and neck, I told them again that I was going to throw up. It really was like IV Jenga. Move this, not that, move this wire, not that etc. I was seated upright! My chest burned like nobodys business and woops, I made good on my promise to vomit. Note to all readers, If you ever have open heart surgery- DO NOT VOMIT! The pain in my sternum was enough to make me vomit again. Ugh. Part of me felt accomplished. I mean I HAD told them that I wanted to puke.. nobody listened.. hehe. Leslie- 1. It's the small victories. On a quest to still discover where this deadly infection originated, the doctors had me scheduled to be transported to an oral surgeon 3 days after surgery. Doped up just the right amount to deal with the situation, I was moved from the ambulance stretcher to the dentists chair. In no time at all, I was prepped to have my tooth removed and examined to see if this little bastard was the cause of my saga. Unfortunately, the tooth was fine and was not the root of my illness. Then, on the way back I tried to bribe the ambulance drivers to stop for donuts. Fail. **constant edits and updates being made, my story is far from over.. Please check back often, like it's your horoscope**

1 note · View note

ohdizzy · 8 years ago

Text

Tie Me Down

Pairing: Taehyung/Yoongi (Side! Jimin/Jeongguk) Rating: Mature Genre: AU, Kidnapping AU (oh my god), Comedy, Semi-Crack, Romance, Word count: 11,900+ Chapter: 1/2 Summary:

“I’ve just woken up with a fucking splitting headache, to find myself fucking taped to an office chair in a fucking living room that smells like unwashed socks and takeaway food. How am I? How do you think I fucking am?”

“Wow. That’s a lot of f-bombs you’re dropping. Did anyone tell you that you need a healthy dose of positivity?”

In which Yoongi’s life is a parody of Taken and Taehyung is just trying his goddamn hardest not to get arrested.

(“You know, when I think of being kidnapped I think of being trapped and hopeless in a desolate warehouse or something. Seeing as I’m secured to an office chair with scotch tape in what looks to be your living room, I can’t help but be a bit underwhelmed.” AU)

Read at: ao3, or under the cut!

“Guys, I just wanted to say that I—I love you guys, and I appreciate t—this so much.”

Yoongi stifles a snort, looking over Namjoon’s disheveled, crying form at Seokjin, jerking his thumb at Namjoon in a can-you-believe-this-guy kind of motion. Seokjin frowns, shaking his head slightly in a don’t-you-dare-say-a-fucking-word kind of way. Two minutes ago, Hoseok and Seokjin were snickering away at the snot bubble forming in Namjoon’s left nostril but the moment Yoongi tries to join in he’s suddenly the asshole.

Figures.

Hoseok makes a soothing sound, patting Namjoon’s head, murmuring comforting words, and Yoongi watches, slightly incredulous, as Namjoon lets out another loud wail, fresh tears leaking out of his swollen, red eyes.

Oh, what a life Yoongi lives.

Min Yoongi, at the ripe age of twenty-three, is currently sitting on the floor of an awfully decorated apartment, comforting said owner of awfully decorated apartment as he has some fucking existential slash quarter life crisis.

What the actual crisis is, Yoongi’s not actually sure of. There wasn’t a lot Yoongi picked up from Namjoon’s incomprehensible blubbering, just a lot of I love yous and fuck the systems, so Yoongi’s been on back petting duty, wisely choosing to shut the fuck up while Seokjin and Hoseok comfort an estranged Namjoon.

But it’s nearing 2AM and while Yoongi loves and cherishes Namjoon, he really loves and cherishes his beauty sleep, too. And when it gets past 10PM on a weekday, Yoongi’s body automatically shuts down. So right now, on this blessed Thursday night, Yoongi’s awake purely because he doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of Seokjin’s wrath if he actually does happen to fall asleep—a possibility that is slowly becoming alarmingly close to reality.

Fortunately for him, Hoseok, bless, seems to be well aware of this and is looking at him with a concerned expression.

“Hey, Yoongi, you should go home. We can handle this.”

Honestly. Bless Jung Hoseok. Bless his beautiful, wholesome soul.

“No, it’s okay, I don’t mind.” Yoongi does mind. He’s lying through his teeth. Please send him home.

Namjoon blinks up at him, and god, he’s such a pitiful sight with tear-stained cheeks and that goddamn disgusting snot-bubble well and truly formed that Yoongi’s heart softens a little and maybe it’s not all that bad if he has to stay behind.

“Y—You should go home,” Namjoon sniffles. “You look like you’re going to pass out. Sorry for making you stay.”

“No, it’s okay, I can stay.”

“Yoongi, you’re literally halfway to the door already. Just go home.” Seokjin rolls his eyes.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, Joon-ah,” Yoongi promises, shrugging on his coat. “I’m sorry I can’t stay here any longer.”

“Get home safely, Yoongi,” Seokjin says, frowning slightly. “There are so many fucking weirdoes these days.”

“Jin, no one is going to mug me.”

Seokjin gives him a skeptical look, pursing his lips. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”

“It’s ‘cause you look like a girl from the back,” Namjoon pipes up tearfully. “You’re so tiny and cute.”

“Yeah, the first time we met I nearly hit on you,” Hoseok sniggers.

Yoongi scowls. Seokjin smiles smugly.

It’s a ten-minute walk from Namjoon’s apartment to Yoongi and Hoseok’s shared apartment, but Yoongi’s already to call quits two minutes into the walk. There’s seriously no way anyone actually expects him to haul his dead-beat, emotionally drained ass all the way to his apartment.

He reckons by this point someone could club a fry pan over his head and he probably wouldn’t notice. Honestly, he’s just ready to go home, take a hot shower, put on his bed socks, and get the fuck to sleep.

(Apparently, though, Life has other plans for him. It’s always fucking him. Give Yoongi a break.)

It starts off as a small noise Yoongi chooses to ignore. A niggling feeling in his stomach. The strange feeling that he’s being watched.

Yoongi quickens his pace, and suddenly, he’s not so tired anymore, and he quietly curses Seokjin to hell and back for jinxing him. Suddenly, his ridiculous claims of mugging don’t sound ridiculous anymore.

There’s a noise that’s slowly gradually getting louder and it’s not until the sound is really fucking close does Yoongi realize that it’s the sound of someone running towards him at full speed.

Okay, cue panic.

“What the f—”

“I’M SOORRRRRY,” a loud voice, shrill with panic and adrenaline interrupts him, before something blunt hits him on the head, hard.

You know when he said that a fry pan could hit him and he wouldn’t notice? Min Yoongi would like to whole-heartedly retract that comment, because damn if that didn’t hurt like a motherfucker.

“Fuck.”

Ever so eloquent, Yoongi manages to catch a glimpse of what looks like a fucking watermelon hovering in his line of sight before the sharp throbbing in his head becomes too much and he blacks out.

There’s a dull, insistent throbbing in the back of Yoongi’s head that draws him from the depths of unconsciousness. The pain gets sharper and sharper and he lets out a little whine, hoping that Hoseok will come and shove a pillow under his head or something to make the pain go away so he can go back to sleep, but his limbs feel heavy and water-logged, the way one might feel after an entire day of working out. Which is unusual, considering Yoongi is basically allergic to any form of physical exercise.

He reaches up to rub at his eyes—well, he tries to anyways. Something’s binding him painfully to something that is most certainly not his extra cushiony king-single, and panic seizes in his chest as reality crashes down on him. Yoongi’s eyes fly open, his eyebrows automatically pinching together in fear and confusion.

Min Yoongi, at the ripe age of twenty-three, is no stranger to waking up in strange places. Hoseok might poke fun at him and tell him he’s got the soul of an eighty-year-old man, but Yoongi’s seen some crazy shit back in the day when he was Young, Wild and Free.

From waking up in an empty parking lot wearing nothing but a dirty cloth placed strategically over his Yoongi Junior and bright pink nipple tassels with no recollection whatsoever of what happened the night before, to waking up all the way in some fancy Gangnam apartment with some girl he’s never seen before telling him she’s going to introduce him to her parents, Yoongi feels like he’s seen—and been through—it all.

So it’s really, really something, when Yoongi wakes up and is surprised. Honest to God, hand on your heart kind of surprised.

Because he really, really does not know how to react to being taped down with copious amounts of scotch tape to a rickety office chair in what looks like a fucking living room of who Yoongi is going to assume to be some college student, based on the half-eaten bowls of jjajjangmyeon and jjampong littered on a messy coffee table and the mess of twisted wires and consoles underneath a huge plasma TV.

Yoongi sits there in literal shock for a few seconds, trying to process what the everloving fuck is going on, when his eyes fall on a lamp—one shaped oddly like a watermelon.

A watermelon. A watermelon had knocked him out.

And then it hits him—kidnapped.

Yoongi is fucking kidnapped. Someone had looked at Yoongi and decided to kidnap him. Someone had looked at his dead-ass, disheveled form and thought, ‘ah. This is the one. The one I’m going to fucking kidnap’. What the fuck.

When Yoongi thinks of being kidnapped, he thinks of being trapped, hopeless, in a seedy warehouse with faceless thugs surrounding him, blood dripping dramatically from his temple as he takes beating after beating heroically.

Maybe he’s seen too many movies, but Yoongi really can��t help but feel underwhelmed. Because who the fuck thinks of sitting on a swivel chair, staring at a funky-looking cactus, nursing a headache that feels kinda like a hangover when they think of being kidnapped?

He’s waiting for the panic, the overwhelming sense of anxiety and dread, to kick in, but… nothing. Well and truly nothing. Maybe a little annoyance.

A timid cough sounds in the living room, startling Yoongi and alerting him to another presence. With difficulty, he slowly swivels around towards the sound, grunting with exertion. When he finally manages to turn around, his eyes immediately fall on a tall, slender figure standing on the other side of the room. When Yoongi drags his eyes up the kidnapper’s body, finally settling on his face, Yoongi is a little surprised to note that his kidnapper isn’t some deranged psychopath, but someone kinda… cute.

With soft-looking blond hair that falls over his eyes, pretty lips, and huge, doe eyes staring back at him, he looks like something out of a magazine. Yoongi’s kind of annoyed at this—if his kidnapper had been some old, balding man maybe it would have been easier to be scared. Or pissed. Yoongi’s just kind of annoyed and tired right now.

He starts to slowly approach Yoongi, holding something before him like a weapon, like Yoongi’s in any state to leap out and suddenly attack his kidnapper. Yoongi can’t help the snort that escapes him when he sees what the kidnapper is holding. It’s a butter knife. A fucking butter knife. He’s holding a butter knife threateningly towards Yoongi like it could actually stop him, if Yoongi ever happens to break free from his sticky bonds.

His kidnapper stops right in front of Yoongi, the hands holding onto the butter knife trembling. Up close he looks even younger than Yoongi had thought. And cuter. And Min Yoongi doesn’t just throw out the word cute.

But all of his cuteness goes flying out the window the minute he opens his mouth.

“Hello,” He says timidly. “How are you?”

Yoongi’s brain kind of just… breaks.

He’s tired, he’s emotionally exhausted, and now, he’s fucking tied down to a chair with some weirdo (who’s also unfairly cute and hot) asking how he is. How is he? How is he? He’ll tell him just how he is.

“Oh, I don’t fucking know,” Yoongi spits out scathingly. The boy takes a step back, his expression contorting into one of alarm and a tiny bit of Yoongi feels a little bad, but the majority of his sleep-deprived mind doesn’t even feel one ounce of remorse, and his kidnapped ass is not having any of it, cute boy or not.

“I’ve just woken up with a fucking splitting headache, to find myself fucking taped to an office chair in a fucking living room that smells like unwashed socks and takeaway food, with a fucking stranger pointing a fucking butter knife in my fucking face. How am I? How do you think I fucking am?”

Yoongi’s chest is heaving by the end of his mini-explosive rant. He glares fiercely at his kidnapper for extra measure. The kidnapper who had listened to his rant with huge, alarmed eyes, kind of looks like he’s about to pass out now. Yoongi’s not too sure how he feels about this.

“Wow,” The boy says in a tiny voice. “That’s a lot of f-bombs you’re dropping, hyung. Did anyone tell you that you need a healthy dose of positivity?”

Yoongi’s eye twitches.

“Hyung? What the fuck, you don’t know me, don’t call me hyung! I don’t fucking need positivity in my fucking life, I need you to tell me what the fuck is happening! And—fucking stop pointing that goddamn butter knife in my face!” Yoongi is kind of pissed now, but he’s mostly super annoyed. Like. Super annoyed. Like, raising-his-voice kind of annoyed.

“Okay, chill, I’m sorry!” His kidnapper says hastily, hiding the butter knife behind his back. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t completely necessary, but it is! So I’m doing it. I’m broke, right? In fact hyu—”—his kidnapper shoots a nervous glance at Yoongi before continuing—“I’m so broke that I’ve had to resort to illegal means. So. I’m ransoming you, haha! So please tell me your details so I can contact your parents.”

Yoongi shoots his kidnapper the dirtiest glare he can muster. Which is quite dirty, if he’s being completely honest. “What the fuck is wrong with you. Are you on drugs or something?”

“Nope!” His kidnapper lets out a nervous laugh. “Only the adrenaline running through my veins. You know. From fear.”

“This is fucking fucked up, fuck you, fuck this, what the fuck.”

“Please stop glaring at me, Yoongi hyung. I’m already terrified as it is—I’ve never actually done anything illegal in my entire life. Unless you count that time I stole a cucumber from the mart when I was six, but you should’ve seen my grandmother when she fo—”

“Wait. Hold up. How the fuck do you know my name?”

His kidnapper stops in the middle of his rambling, looking distinctly like a deer caught in the headlights. He lets out a sheepish laugh. “Well. I may or may not have looked through your wallet, but I—”

“What?!”

The boy flinches, raising his hands defensively. “I didn’t steal anything!” He protests. “I’m not that kind of person!”

Yoongi arches an eyebrow. “Okay. You don’t steal, but you did kidnap me? That’s alright in your books?”

The boy giggles. He actually fucking giggles. This is no time for giggling. “But that’s like. Not as bad as stealing. It’s bad, yeah, but stealing? That’s a no-no.”

“How the fuck—are you hearing yourself right now?” Yoongi groans, rolling his eyes. He tries to sit upright, looking his stupid-ass kidnapper in the face. “Kidnapping is stealing, you fucking walnut! You’re stealing me!”

The expression that dawns on the kidnapper’s face is priceless. Yoongi suddenly doesn’t mind being kidnapped, because that expression, that absolute dumbfounded, shell-shocked expression on his kidnapper’s face is worth it. Well and truly worth it.

Yoongi’s not sure how, but even in this situation—tied up and unable to move—Yoongi still has the upper hand. He supposes it’s like, compensation for being kidnapped.

“Holy fuck!” The boy shouts so suddenly Yoongi startles so hard he nearly flips the chair backwards, and wobbles precariously for a heart-stopping second before he regains his balance. “I fucking kidnapped someone. I actually kidnapped someone. I’m Kim Taehyung, the boy who helps old people across the road, not Kim Taehyung the kidnapper! Oh my God, oh my God, I’m—I’m—fuck!”

Okay Yoongi’s a little worried now. And it’s not so funny anymore—not when it looks like the poor fucker is about to pass out. He’s hyperventilating, his face as white as sheet and as funny as it was to Yoongi maybe ten seconds ago, he kind of needs his kidnapper to be conscious if he wants to ever get out of these fucking bonds.

His kidnapper dramatically drops to his knees, facing the wall across from him, barely paying attention to Yoongi as he howls into his hands in what Yoongi supposes is intense regret. He would be kind of fascinated if he weren’t so worried, because it looks as though he’s reenacting a K-drama all by himself. It’s pretty impressive, actually.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Yoongi says soothingly. He can’t believe he’s comforting his kidnapper, out of all people.

His kidnapper—Kim Taehyung—turns to him, his eyes as huge as saucers. “I’m—I’m a good person and I’ve fucking kidnapped someone! I was going to ransom your parents! Your parents, hyung! Oh my god, what would my parents say? What would your parents think?! How could I even think about putting them through that?!”

To Yoongi’s shock, Taehyung’s eyes are shining with unshed tears. Yoongi really feels like he’s trapped in a fucking K-drama. Only in a K-drama could it be so dramatic.

“Hyung,” Taehyung whispers, clutching at Yoongi’s tape-clad body tightly. Yoongi tries not to roll his eyes at the honorifics. “What should I do?”

“Here’s a fucking idea: let me go.”

But Taehyung’s already turning away from Yoongi, pulling out his phone, talking absentmindedly to himself. “My best friend will know what to do. He’s so smart, he’s studying medicine.”

Yoongi can see over Taehyung’s shoulder as he clicks on a name. Taehyung’s own face pops up on screen as he waits tearfully for his best friend to answer his FaceTime. After five long rings, Taehyung’s friend finally picks up and the screen opens to a sleepy-looking dark haired kid.

He looks even younger than Taehyung, from what Yoongi can make out, but he looks well and truly pissed at being woken up.

“Kim Taehyung,” The dark haired boy groans down the phone. “It’s fucking 7AM on a Friday morning, are you seriously for real right now?”

The boy makes a loud rustling sound, turning his head, and Yoongi can make sight of a smaller, blond haired male lying in bed behind the dark-haired boy. The blond whines, snuggling up to the brunet.

“Sorry baby,” The dark-haired boy whispers softly to the other. “Go back to sleep.”

He turns around so he’s facing the camera again, his expression agitated. “You woke up Jimin, you shit.”

“Jeongguk,” Taehyung bellows, seemingly uncaring for the fact that his supposed best friend’s boyfriend is sleeping. “I might honestly go to jail because I might get arrested, but you’re gonna bail me out right? Right? You’re not gonna let me rot in jail, right? You know what they do to pretty faces like mine!”

“Jail? What the fuck have you done this time, Kim Taehyung?!”

“I’ve done something really, really illegal. And I actually might go to jail, I’m not fucking kidding. And real-life jail, Jeongguk! Not fake-jail!”

The dark haired kid’s eyes widen and he reaches behind him to shake the other awake. “Hyung—Jimin, Taehyung might go to jail! Not fake-jail, but real-life jail!”

Fake-jail? Real-life jail? Yoongi is seriously dealing with a bunch of six-year-olds.

The blond’s eyes open groggily, and he reaches for the phone. “Tae? You okay? Why are you going to jail?”

“Jimin,” Taehyung moans. “I fucked up so bad.”

“Couldn’t have been that bad,” His friend soothes him. “What happened, Taetae?”

“I—I fucking kidnapped someone, that’s what I fucking did! I honest to God kidnapped someone and I’m going to go to jail.” Taehyung’s voice is high-pitched with hysterical panic. “Look—look, I’m not kidding! Yoongi hyung, say hello!”

Taehyung angles the camera over his shoulder towards Yoongi, and Yoongi is met with an eyeful of Taehyung’s two extremely naked friends peering in shock into the tiny camera.

“Fuck off.”

His dark haired friend snatches the phone back, his eyes wide in shock, while the blond makes a disbelieving noise. “Taehyung why the fuck did you kidnap someone?!”

“Because you suggested it, asshole!”

“Dude, I was joking.”

“Well I didn’t know that! You need to distinguish your sarcastic voice and your normal voice better, they sound exactly the same!”

“You fucking idiot, I was joking, let him go right fucking now!”

Suddenly, his blond friend’s face is taking up the entire screen, an apologetic expression gracing his features.

“Sunbae, I’m so, so sorry,” He apologises smoothly. “I apologise deeply on behalf of our friend, please don’t call the police on him. He’s deeply misguided and extremely sleep-deprived because of his major, please understand. He’s probably running on less than five hours of sleep this entire week. And that’s a lot of sleep for our Taehyungie.”

“I don’t really care at this point, I just want to go home,” Yoongi growls.

“Yes, of course!” His blond friend agrees immediately. “Taetae, let him go and say sorry and then forget this ever happened, alright?”

“Okay,” Taehyung agrees easily, throwing an uneasy glance at Yoongi over his shoulder. “I gotta go. I’ll call you guys later.”

After hanging up, Taehyung eyes Yoongi warily. “Do you promise you won’t leap out and attack me when I cut you loose?”

“Yes,” Yoongi says, exasperated. “Now let me go before I really get annoyed.”

Taehyung doesn’t hesitate after that, retrieving a pair of scissors and cutting through the scotch tape. Luckily, Yoongi’s wearing a long coat that covers his skin, so it doesn’t hurt when Taehyung rips the tape away, though he does wince a little when Taehyung accidently digs his scissors into the coat, ripping a small hole in the sleeve. Yoongi and Taehyung stand in front of each other for a short second, sizing each other up awkwardly.

Taehyung’s taller than Yoongi had initially thought—Yoongi barely comes up to his ear—and even though he’s still thin like Yoongi had thought, there’s definitely some kind of definition underneath the thin shirt he’s wearing.

Not that it matters at all. Yoongi’s not checking out the fucking weirdo who kidnapped him. Nope. Not happening.

“Hyung, I’m honestly so sorry, please don’t call the police on me,” Taehyung says earnestly, grasping one of Yoongi’s hands. “I honestly don’t know what came over me, I’m not usually like this, I swear.”

“Stop calling me hyun—you know what, it doesn’t matter,” Yoongi sighs, extracting his hand from Taehyung’s vice grip with difficulty. “Just… don’t kidnap other people.”

It sounds lame, even to Yoongi.

But Taehyung’s nodding along eagerly, his expression solemn. “Oh, yes. Don’t worry, I’m never doing anything like this again. I think the stress I felt knocked about five years off my life.”

Yoongi stifles another sigh at the honorifics. “This is the fucking weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Taehyung smiles sheepishly, guiding Yoongi towards the front door. “Sorry, again. Really. Also you swear. Like a lot.”

“Got a problem with that?”

“Not at all! Just an observation. My friend Jeonggukkie, he swears so much that I—”

As much as Yoongi would love to stick around and find out what happens when his friend Jeonggukkie swears so much, he doesn’t particularly feel like chatting with someone who’d smashed a watermelon lamp over his head.

“I should probably get going now.”

Taehyung halts mid-sentence, and his expression drops for a millisecond before he’s smiling brightly again, and Yoongi can’t help the little twinge of guilt prick his heart. Maybe he shouldn’t have cut him off. It was kind of rude.

(Not that he cares what weirdoes with ugly cactuses think. Yoongi was just brought up better than that.)

“Sorry,” He says quickly. “I’m just really tired and it’s been a long, weird day for me.”

“No, that’s alright! I tend to talk a lot, anyways, so…” Taehyung trails off, swinging his arms awkwardly. He offers Yoongi a smile. “See you around?”

“Um… sure.”

And that is how Min Yoongi from Daegu, aged twenty-three, experiences his very first kidnapping, complete with watermelon shaped lamps, a rickety office chair, copious amounts of shitty tape, and a hole in his favourite winter coat.

Min Yoongi has experienced a lot of strange things in his life, but he thinks that this might really fucking take the cake.

“Jin-ah, how many times do I have to say this,” Yoongi says, exasperated. “Stop trying to parent me. I’m twenty-three, not thirteen.”

“How can I not parent you, Yoongi?” Seokjin’s worried voice comes down the line. Yoongi can hear Namjoon’s obnoxious laughter filtering through the phone, a stark contrast to his uncontrollable sobbing a week ago. “Yesterday I tried cutting up a watermelon and you nearly broke my arm trying to throw the watermelon into the bin. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you act like that before.”

Yoongi wraps his coat around him more tightly as he hurries down the street, his breath coming out in white puffs. “I just…who eats watermelons this time of year, anyways? It’s stupid.”

“My point exactly! Why do you care so much about when I eat a fucking watermelon?!”

“Watermelons are stupid and pointless, that’s why!”

“How are they stu—okay, you know what? I’m not arguing with you about a watermelon. Where are you? It’s nearly midnight.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “I’m on my way home from the library. Group assignment. Seriously, Jin, you need to stop parenting me.”

“Namjoon has a quarter-life crisis at least once a week, Hoseok thinks everything can be solved with a dance battle, and you have weird breakdowns when I cut watermelons. Someone needs to be the responsible one!” Seokjin protests.

Yoongi laughs in spite of himself, opening his mouth to reply when a large noise startles him. He jumps into the air, cursing quietly to himself, before turning around to locate the source of sound. He can hear Seokjin’s voice through the receiver, asking him what’s wrong.

When his eyes land on the source of the sound, his eyes widen in disbelief.

“Um—Jin?” Yoongi says distractedly, standing on his tiptoes, trying to get a better look. “I’m—I’m going to have to call you back later.”

“Yoongi? What—”

But Yoongi’s already hung up, scurrying forward for a closer view, crouching behind a flimsy sapling in the fucking freezing weather, not really believing his eyes.

It’s that fucking Taehyung kid again.

But this time, bless him, he’s not alone. Instead, he’s with a vaguely familiar looking dark haired kid who’s holding up his phone and filming.

Kidnapping is one thing, but seeing the very fucking same kid, not even a week later, standing on top of a cement block, belting out ballad lyrics at the bloody top of his lungs whilst simultaneously doing some odd interpretative dance, while his friend fucking films the whole thing kind of makes Yoongi wonder if he was lucky to escape that fucking apartment with his life intact.

“What the everloving fuck,” Yoongi mutters to himself, edging closer in spite of himself to get a closer look.

It’s nearing midnight on a Sunday night—it’s a wonder no one has lodged a complaint on him or told him to shut the fuck up, at the very least.

Yoongi’s not sure what it is, but it feels like he’s been rooted in his spot, unable to move, or wrench his eyes away from Taehyung’s booty-shaking form. He watches on, incredulous, as Taehyung continues to sing passionately, dancing way too vigorously in a manner that doesn’t match up to the slow pace of the song at all.

The dark haired kid who still looks somewhat familiar, films with a seriousness that Yoongi just can’t fucking comprehend, and the entire situation is just so absurd. The dark haired boy nods seriously adjusting his position every so often so that he has a better angle.

Yoongi thinks things can’t get any fucked up; he really does.

Like, c’mon.

But since Yoongi’s life is slowly devolving into a shitty K-drama, things, of course, get more fucked up. Of course. Taehyung seems to spy something in front of him, because he stops in his tracks, halting mid-song, before letting out a delighted whoop. He bends down, scooping up two large sticks and holding them above his head triumphantly.

Taehyung then proceeds to continue his soulful ballad singing (Yoongi will admit grudgingly that he does have quite a nice voice; one that sounds a little like liquid gold and dark chocolate), whilst banging the sticks against a fucking bin, creating even more of a racket than before.

Yoongi is just coming to the conclusion that this Taehyung kid is, in fact, fucking crazy, and he was indeed lucky enough to escape that apartment when a policeman pops out of nowhere. Amazing. Fantastic. Incredible.

This Taehyung kid is a riot and Yoongi can’t help but laugh in disbelief. Seriously? A policeman? At this time of night? What the fuck. Catching sight of Taehyung’s crooning and banging, the policeman lets out a shout, telling them to halt (he actually says halt and Yoongi is in amazement. Who the fuck even says that.)

Yoongi can’t help but snort at the look of unconcealed panic on both their faces, like they actually thought they could get away with banging against steel bins and singing at the top of their lungs on a Sunday night without any consequences.

“Shit!” Yoongi hears Taehyung yelp. “Jeongguk, shit, shit, shit, run!”

Taehyung and his friend both leap down from the cement block, sprinting away, and Yoongi actually thinks they might make it. But of course not. Of course not. One minute, Taehyung’s sprinting like motherfuckin’ Usain Bolt and Yoongi thinks that they’re actually going to get away, and the next thing he knows he’s watching Taehyung trip over his own fucking feet, faceplanting brilliantly onto the cement ground.

Without even realizing Yoongi’s stood up from his semi-crouch, like he’s actually about to run out and help Taehyung because holy shit if that didn’t look painful as fuck. He can’t even bring himself to crouch back into his uncomfortable squat—partly because it was uncomfortable as fuck—so Yoongi just stands there, his mouth gaping wide open as he watches Taehyung shriek dramatically, flailing around on the floor.

Like he’s in some mediocre K-drama, Taehyung stretches out one hand dramatically towards his friend who stands a good fifty metres away, looking torn.

“Go, my friend, go!” Taehyung cries out (dramatically. So fucking dramatically). “Save yourself! I’ll be alright!”

Yoongi stifles his laughter when his friend starts backing away, jogging backwards, an apologetic expression on his face. Taehyung looks outrageously betrayed despite his previous dramatic urges to save yourself, his mouth wide open in shock, his hand dropping to his side.

“Sorry, Tae!” His friend shouts, backing away even faster. “I’m a fucking scholarship kid, I can’t get arrested! I’ll bail you out if you actually get arrested, I promise! I’m so sorry!”

Taehyung gapes. “You’re actually fucking leaving me? Oh my God, don’t you fucking dare—oh my god, he just did it. He just fucking did it.”

“Did you just see that? My friend literally just ran off and left me here to fend for myself. What the fuck!” Taehyung points in his friend’s direction, shouting obscenities as the policeman hauls him up to his feet.

As if just realizing the dire situation he’s been left in, Taehyung suddenly laughs nervously, backing away from the police officer, his hands raised in defense.

“Sir—hyung, can I call you hyung?” Taehyung smiles charmingly at the policeman who merely looks at him, unimpressed.

“No.”

“Okay—okay I’m sorry, sir. No to hyung, then. Duly noted.” Taehyung nods, frowning like he thought he’d actually be able to successfully sweet talk his way out of this clusterfuck. He backs away, alarmed when the police officer pulls out handcuffs and his eyes widen in alarm. “Woah—woah! No need for those handcuffs, this is all just a misunderstanding, please don’t arrest me—no! No, wait!”

Yoongi sniggers slightly to himself as Taehyung gets handcuffed. “I’m going to need your details, son.”

“Details? What do you need my details for? Sir, can’t you just let me off with a warning? Please, I’m doing this for my major, I major in music! C’mon, don’t be like that, huh! We can call my professor right now if you don’t believe me!”

Yoongi can feel a strange surge of satisfaction run through him. That’s right. Justice served icy cold.

People, he thinks to himself smugly, can’t just kidnap other people and get away with it. What goes around comes around, karma’s a bitch, et cetera, et cetera.

Yoongi feels like he’s seen enough; he nods once to himself, satisfied. If he ever feels like he’s having a bad day, he’ll just think back to this great day and be reassured that his day, cannot, in fact, be worse than Taehyung’s.

In hindsight, everything could have been avoided. Had he not been so drunk with satisfaction, so full of pettiness and just plain old mean, the higher powers probably would’ve shown Yoongi mercy.

But with Yoongi’s life playing out like a fucking K-drama, what did he expect at this point?

Stretching once to get rid of all the kinks in his body from squatting strangely, Yoongi makes to leave, throwing one last look over his shoulder to engrain the image of Taehyung being handcuffed into his mind one last time.

Their eyes meet.

Fucking fuck, fuck, fuck.

Yoongi freezes dead in his tracks as Taehyung’s eyes widen in recognition, his mouth dropping open. He struggles enthusiastically against the police officer’s grip, attempting to wave with both arms at Yoongi.

“What the—ahjussi! That’s my friend!” Taehyung screeches loudly. Fucking crap on a catapult, just let Yoongi die. Throw him into a ditch and leave him to die. “Oh—Oh my god, it’s actually my friend! Yoonjae! Or—or was it Yoonbin? Ahjussi, we’re actually best friends, call him over! My dude, my bro, my pal!”

Please, Yoongi closes his eyes briefly, praying to the based gods. Please don’t call Yoongi over. Please let him leave.

But of course not.

Of course not.

The police officer’s eyes narrow in suspicion before he beckons for Yoongi to come over. Yoongi contemplates making a run for it—he can probably make it if he runs fast enough. Maybe it’s because Yoongi’s tired and therefore his sense of rationality has gone to shits. Or maybe it’s because a tiny part of Yoongi wants to know just how Taehyung plans on getting out of this fucking mess. If he can.

Seriously questioning every choice he’s made in his life, Yoongi finds himself walking towards the handcuffed idiot.

Standing in front of Taehyung, he scoffs a little at the eager, excited expression on Taehyung’s face, like he actually thinks Yoongi is going to make up bullshit about knowing him. Honestly, he should be counting his lucky stars that he’s not outing Taehyung for the law-breaking, kidnapping hooligan he fucking is.

“So,” The police officer starts, looking at Yoongi skeptically. “You know this kid?”

Yoongi’s going to say no. He really is. He even got his name wrong—Yoonjae? Seriously? That’s not even fucking close—and he’s going to walk away coolly and leave this idiot to fend for himself. Because he has to learn the hard way that life can’t be solved by cracking watermelon lamps over people’s heads and demanding ransoms.

Yoongi’s going to say no, and Taehyung must’ve realized this, because his face drops from a goofy, excited smile to a pathetically sad face, his lips twisted down like those Greek tragedy masks.

Yoongi’s going to say no, but Taehyung looks like a kicked puppy—so sad and little and pathetic, even though Yoongi knows for sure that Taehyung is a whole lot taller than him.

Goddamn it.

Goddamn it all to fucking hell.

“Yes,” Yoongi sighs. God-fucking-damn. “I know him. We—we were in the same class.”

Taehyung’s face breaks into a huge grin, his eyes sparkling in the darkness with something Yoongi can’t quite pinpoint. Yoongi’s mouth feels dry. It’s cause he’s nervous. Who wouldn’t be? Lying to the police. Jesus, the things he’s doing for this kid. Honestly.

“Yeah,” Taehyung agrees fervently. “Tell him, Yoojung.”

Yoongi glares at Taehyung, who shrinks back a little, smiling sheepishly. “He’s a good kid, sir. A little weird”—he ignores Taehyung’s protests—“but a good kid. He’s always been a model student, so if he said he was doing this for a project, he’s telling the truth.”

When the police officer looks skeptical, Taehyung turns his puppy dog eyes onto him, pouting cutely. “Sir, I’m so, so sorry. Please let me go, my parents will be so ashamed of me if I have to go down to the police office. Think of my parents, sir! Weren’t you ever a kid, sir? Can’t you show me a little mercy? I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

Yoongi suspects that the little fucker might actually be enjoying himself, and is really fucking milking it for all that it’s worth.

The power of puppy eyes, Yoongi thinks dryly to himself as he watches the police officer visibly melt and fall prey to Taehyung’s aegyo. Even the strongest will fall.

Yoongi restrains himself from snorting when the officer sighs, unlocking the handcuffs. Taehyung rubs his wrists, smiling brightly at the police officer.

“Son, I’m letting you off with a warning. If I ever catch you causing a scene or a racket, I’m going to take you straight to the station, is that understood?”

Taehyung nods solemnly. “Yes sir, I appreciate this so much. Thank you so much, have a great night!”

After Taehyung’s waved the police officer off (literally stood there for a fucking minute waving enthusiastically at the police officer’s retreating form), he turns to face Yoongi, a bright smile on his face.

“So. That went pretty well, didn’t it?”

And that’s how Yoongi finds himself sitting at the campus diner at 1.28AM in the morning, with the fucking weird ass kid who tried to kidnap him, watching in disbelief as he slurps loudly on a strawberry milkshake. The milkshake, by the way, that Yoongi fucking paid for.

After Taehyung’s taken a long, satisfying slurp, he pushes the milkshake a little to the side, resting on his elbows and leaning forward, his lips quirking up into a smile.

“So. Yoo—”

“Yoongi.”

“Sorry?”

“Yoongi. My name is Yoongi. Not Yoonjae, not Yoonjin, Yoongi.”

Taehyung shoots him a strange look. “You’re so odd, Yoongi hyung.”

“Wha—I’m weird? You’re fucking weird!”

“Well I’d rather be weird and memorable than boring and forgettable,” Taehyung says, shrugging cheerfully.

Yoongi opens and closes his mouth. Can’t argue with that logic.

Yoongi clears his throat awkwardly. “Were you really doing that for your major?” He asks gruffly.

Taehyung perks up at that. “Yeah! I actually major in music. This semester we’re learning about music production, so we have to produce a few of our own songs.”

“Why were you banging around on the bins and singing for?”

“Well… I’ve been trying out new styles to see what fits me best. I’ve heard that a lot of people actually use sounds that they hear out and about in their songs, so I’ve been trying to figure out what kinds of sounds I should use. It’s a whole new world to me! So far, I’ve tried to record myself gurgling underwater, the sound of glass breaking, and I tried banging on bins as a replacement for drums, but I still think—sorry, I’m boring you, aren’t I?” Taehyung breaks off mid-sentence, wincing. “People tell me I tend to ramble too much.”

Actually, Yoongi doesn’t mind. He usually doesn’t like it when people talk for too long—seriously, it’s just asking for a headache—but Taehyung talks with such an excitement and passion, it’s hard to get annoyed. Which is weird because Yoongi can get annoyed at anything. It’s kind of a gift.

“No, I don’t mind,” Yoongi says, but Taehyung’s already moved on to another subject.

“I’m sorry for kidnapping you last week,” Taehyung says sincerely. “Desperate times call for desperate measures!”

Taehyung’s chortling away but Yoongi doesn’t really find it that funny (his head is still fucking throbbing).

“It’s not that funny.”

“C’mon, it kinda was! You should’ve seen the look on your face, it was hilarious. I wish I had taken a photo of it.”

“I looked hilarious? You were the one about to shit their fucking pants! I’ve never seen anyone’s facial expression drop that fast my entire life.”

“I wasn’t scared! I was just”—Taehyung waves his hand around, searching for the right word—“nervous.”

“You were so scared, stop lying to yourself.”

“Fine, I was scared. But who wouldn’t be scared? You were glaring at me like you wanted to kill my firstborn child.”

“Wouldn’t you glare at someone who fucking smashed a watermelon-shaped lamp over your head, taped you down to a chair and then ripped a hole into your favourite winter coat?”

“Well actually, I didn’t technically smash the lamp over your head because it’s still intact and as for tape I couldn’t find any rope, even though I did watch several YouTube tutorials on how to do a proper sailor’s knot.”

Yoongi glares at Taehyung, before reaching for his bag and standing up. “Okay, well I’m gonna go then.”

Taehyung makes a noise like a kicked puppy and reaches out for Yoongi, tugging him back down into his seat. “Ah, hyungnim! Don’t be like that, c’mon I’m sorry, don’t go!”

“Fine. But don’t call me hyung anymore. It’s giving me weird flashbacks I’d rather not have.” Yoongi sits back down warily, eyeing Taehyung with trepidation. “Just call me Yoongi.”

“But that’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Why’s that weird?”

“Because… you’re my hyung.”

“Then as your hyung, you should listen to what I say to you, and I’m telling you to call me Yoongi.”

Taehyung opens his mouth to speak, before snapping it shut in resignation. “Can’t argue with that logic. Okay. Yoongi.”

Taehyung fiddles with his straw for a moment before he sets his drink aside and looks up at Yoongi, his eyes wide and sincere. “Anyways. I’m so glad I bumped into you again. Don’t you think that it’s fate?”

Yoongi makes a face. “No. I don’t believe in fate and that kind of bullshit.”

“Oh come on hy—Yoongi! Out of all the places you could’ve been, you just happened to be passing by where I just so happened to be filming, and you just happened to stay while I just happened to get arrested.”

“It was a coincidence.”

“In the wise words of Einstein, the ‘stars don’t lie’,” Taehyung says smugly across the table, shrugging. “Sorry, Yoongi, but we’re obviously just meant to be friends. I don’t make this shit up.”

“Einstein did not fucking say that.”

“He’s said a lot of smart things during his life, I’m sure he said something along those lines at one point. Besides, you’re missing my point—and my point being, obviously, the stars want me to make it up to you. It’s just fate. You can’t fight these things.”

“Make it up to me?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, you didn’t call the police on me and then you saved me from the police. It’s the least I can do; don’t you think? I’ll buy you dinner!”

“Aren’t you broke? That’s why you fucking kidnapped me, isn’t it?” Yoongi deadpans.

“Oh! I’m not actually broke. My boss forgot to pay me, that was all. But he’s already paid me!” Taehyung says brightly before dropping his voice to a raspy whisper and winking greasily at Yoongi, beckoning for him to come closer. “Just call me Daddy Warbucks.”

Yoongi recoils, jerking back like he’s been burnt. Who the fuck even says shit like that. “That’s fucked up, man.”

Taehyung shrugs. “Are you going to say no to free food, though?”

Yoongi thinks about this for a second. Taehyung does have a valid point there. Even Yoongi isn’t below free food. “True.”

“Give me your Katalk details! I’ll text you soon.”

Yoongi hands Taehyung his phone and watches as Taehyung types something rapidly into the search bar, before clicking on his name when it pops up. “Cool. Well, I gotta jet. Jeongguk’s probably wondering whether I’m rotting away in jail right now. I’ll see you soon, Yoongi! Ciao!”

And for the second time in two weeks, Min Yoongi is left wondering what the fuck is going on.

Yoongi represses the urge to sigh for what feels like the umpteenth time, his pen tapping against his notepad in irritation as he stares at the algorithm on his page with pure, unadulterated hatred.

He’s a fucking idiot for picking mathematical economics, he supposes. He’s not even good at math.

Yoongi’s in the midst of wondering if he can ask someone in his class give him the answers when his phone vibrates, startling him.

TAEHYUNGIE YOONGI!!!!!!!! 9.05pm

Yoongi What 9.06pm

TAEHYUNGIE where u at!!!!! 9.06pm

Yoongi I’m at the library 9.08pm

TAEHYUNGIE what floor u on homie g 9.10pm

Yoongi Wait why do you want to know 9.10pm

TAEHYUNGIE

9.11pm

Yoongi What the hell does that even mean 9.12pm

TAEHYUNGIE it means you’ll regret it if u dnt tell me kekeke 9.13pm

Yoongi -_- 9.15pm

Yoongi 5th floor 9.15pm

The little one next to Taehyung’s name disappears signaling that he’s read it but doesn’t reply after that, leaving Yoongi wondering what the hell that was about. But the algorithms are calling his name, and alas, Yoongi doesn’t really have time to wonder why Taehyung is asking him random questions.

Taehyung’s taken to bombarding Yoongi’s Kakaotalk at a time when no one—Yoongi repeats, no one—should be awake. From random song recommendations to pictures of trees (look how pretty this tree looks!!!!!!!!!! im swooning!!! over a tree haha can u believe!!), Yoongi feels as though he’s now somewhat accustomed to Taehyung’s complete disregard of Yoongi’s sleeping schedule and, as well as his atrocious grammar.

However, these goddamn algorithms aren’t going to solve themselves, so Yoongi tosses his phone aside, grits his teeth, clicks his pen a few more times out of irritation, and tries to get the questions done (preferably before the sun starts to rise).

Yoongi’s not expecting anything—he’s really not. He’s just pegged Taehyung’s seemingly random question to be one out of a long, long list of random questions he’s going to be asked since Taehyung’s deemed that they’re buddies (Taehyung’s words, not Yoongi’s). So it’s kind of saying something when he gets the fright of his life approximately thirty-seven minutes later when he’s glaring down at his paper in frustration one minute, and then looking up straight into Taehyung’s smiling face pushed way too close to Yoongi’s own face for comfort.

Yoongi jerks back, stifling the shout climbing up his throat—because he’s in a fucking library and has something called decency, unlike assholes (read: Hoseok and Namjoon) who think the library is a place of socializing—hand flying up to press dramatically against his chest. He can feel his heart galloping around in his chest in like fucking horse and he’s twenty-three years way too fucking old for this shit. Taehyung seems to have developed the habit of popping up (quite literally) to Yoongi in the most inconvenient of times. Maybe it’s a gift he has.

“What the hell,” Yoongi hisses once his heartbeat has slowed down considerably. “You gave me a goddamn heart-attack.”

Taehyung merely grins as he plops himself down on a spare chair, shoving Yoongi’s carefully alphabetically organized papers to the side before dumping two huge plastic bags onto the table.

“I would say sorry,” Taehyung says, reaching into the bags and pulling out plastic containers stuffed to the brim with food. “But I’m not. And my parents didn’t raise a liar, so.”

Yoongi frowns, surprise coloring his features. He’s not too sure why Taehyung’s suddenly bringing food, but then again, it’s Taehyung. But still.

Yoongi leans back on his chair. “What’s all this?”

“What does it look like? I’m fulfilling my promise. I’ve brought you dinner, because God knows you could use it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat. How can I live, knowing that my friend is withering away like some sad, unwatered flower?”

Yoongi ignores the bullshit of him being some unwatered flower because, well, it’s bullshit. “That’s because the two times we met you were either trying to kidnap me or sweet-talk your way out of being arrested.”

Taehyung pauses, frowning for a second. “Oh shit. Yeah, I forgot about that.”

“How can you forget about kidnapping someone?”

“In the wise words of Ghandi, ‘live for the future, not the past’.”

“Stop making up quotes! You’re turning historical figures into trashy teen romance novels.”

“I’m offended. How dare you.”

“Someone has to set you straight.”

“Well you can insult me as you eat. The food’s getting cold,” Taehyung says, passing Yoongi a pair of chopsticks.

Yoongi stops dissing Taehyung to appraise the food. From fried chicken to jjajjangmyeon to jjigae, it looks as though Taehyung’s went and bought everything Yoongi might possibly like. Yoongi doesn’t really think much about food—especially when he’s studying, but suddenly he’s ravenous and he digs into the food like he’s been starved.

He’s gotten two mouthfuls of chicken and some noodles in when he remembers his manners.

“Thanks Tae,” He says through a mouthful of food.

Taehyung stabs a piece of chicken with his chopstick. “That’s alright. What are you working on?”

“Equations and shit.” Yoongi swallows his food, taking a sip of the Milkis Taehyung’s produced from the plastic bag that reminds Yoongi of Doraemon’s endless pocket. Seriously. How does he keep producing food like this. “They’re dry-pounding my ass.”

“Equations? Do you study math?”

“Close,” Yoongi says, picking up his chopsticks again. “Mathematical economics.”

Taehyung winces. “Ooh. Sounds rough.”

“Yeah, I’d much rather be doing music. I envy you.”

“Oh?” Taehyung swirls the jjajjangmyeon around and around on his chopsticks. “You like music?”

“Yeah, I—I produce my own music in my spare time.” Yoongi’s not too sure why he’s telling Taehyung this. It’s a private part of his life that even Hoseok, Namjoon, and Seokjin had unintentionally found out about only recently, so he’s not too sure why he’s blurting this out to a near stranger.

Maybe it’s because the black paste has smeared itself all around Taehyung’s mouth and he just looks so harmless slurping away at his noodles. Or maybe it’s because Yoongi’s frazzled, burnt-out brain is just blurting out random shit at this point, and his brain to mouth filter has just gone to shits.

But for what it’s worth, Taehyung looks genuinely interested, perking up instantly and looking at Yoongi with bright eyes. “What? That’s so cool, what the hell! What kind of music do you produce?”

“Oh, like a bit of this, a bit of that,” Yoongi waves his chicken around vaguely. “Mostly rap.”

“Rap?” Taehyung breathes, leaning towards Yoongi on his elbows. “Will you show me sometime? I would love to hear your work.”

Yoongi flushes, rubbing a hand across the back of neck awkwardly. “I—I mean, I guess, if you want. Like it’s really lowkey. Not that big of a deal.”

Taehyung smiles at that, returning to his noodles. “Still. I’m a firm believer that all music should be appreciated. I mean, the artist has gone into the effort of finding a beat, and then a melody, and then writing lyrics on top of that. Who knows how many minutes, hours, days, weeks, they’ve spent on that one piece. The least someone could do is listen to it.”

Yoongi’s a little stumped by the sincerity and seriousness of Taehyung’s words. He blinks.

“Anyways,” Taehyung continues, like he hasn’t just thrown Yoongi off. “How come you’re doing mathematical economics?”

“Uh—parents. My parents wanted me to do something… practical,” Yoongi sighs.

Taehyung frowns. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. That sucks.”

“Nah it’s alright. They made a deal with me—if I can finish my degree and get a proper job, then I can come back and do music here part-time.”

“Oh swag!”

And just like that, the moment is broken.

“Did you just seriously say ‘swag’.”

Taehyung shrugs happily. “I thought it fitted the moment well.”

Yoongi doesn’t even bother answering, focusing on the jjigae. A little voice in the back of his head tells him that eating in the library is probably worse than talking in the library—if the glares he’s receiving from the neighboring table are any indication of that—but he hasn’t been kicked out yet, so he supposes it can’t be that bad. Hoseok’s been kicked out a grand total of seven times just for talking, so it’s probably better that he’s eating and not talking (too much).

Taehyung leans back on his chair having finished his own bowl of food, patting his stomach contently. He frowns for a second and just as Yoongi is about to ask him if anything’s wrong he lets out a loud burp, earning him a spectacularly loud shh! from the neighboring table, accompanied with a lethal glare. Taehyung looks far too relaxed for someone in a library smiling sleepily at Yoongi, before his eyes wander down to the weathered leather watch on his wrist.

Taehyung’s eyes widen and he jumps up from his seat so violently it knocks backwards and he lets out a panicked shout that has everyone on the entire floor glaring at him venomously. Yoongi sinks a little in his seat.

“Shit—oh my g—fuck! I’m gonna be la—I gotta jet—shit!”

“What?! Where are going?” Yoongi whisper-shouts after Taehyung, who’s already started to make his way towards the elevator.

“Zumba class! I completely forgot Jimin wanted to do Zumba with me! I’ll call you, Yoongles! Don’t be a stranger!” Taehyung calls back, stepping into the elevator, pressing furiously on what Yoongi assumes is the close button.

Yoongles?

What the fuck.

Yoongi’s lying on the sofa, flicking aimlessly through the channels on the television when Hoseok approaches him with an expression that means he wants Yoongi to do something. Which means Yoongi will have to physically get up from the sofa. Which automatically means he isn’t doing it.

“Hey. Let’s go get bubble tea.”

“No.”

“C’mon! I even made you coffee this morning, how can you say no to me?”

“Easy—you’re annoying and you want me to get up. I haven’t had a day where I can do absolutely nothing in like, a month. There’s no way I’m getting up from this couch.”

Hoseok pouts, plopping down on the sofa and turning on the puppy-eyes. “Please?”

“No. Now go away before I pinch you. I’m small, but deadly.”

Hoseok laughs like Yoongi’s words hold no real threat to him, eyes curving up into crescents, dodging Yoongi’s weak attempts at pinching. “C’mon, my treat.”

That makes Yoongi pause in his pinching conquest. Free bubble tea? Yoongi’s not a cheap-ass nor is he particularly broke, but even he can’t resist the alluring charm of free bubble tea. He supposes that thirty minutes there and back won’t hurt anybody. Especially if free bubble tea is thrown in.

He heaves a huge sigh, before stretching his arms towards Hoseok, who laughs some more, pulling him up from the sofa. “Fine. But as soon as we get our bubble tea we’re coming straight back here.”

Luckily, there’s a Chatime that’s close enough to Yoongi and Hoseok’s shared apartment that Yoongi doesn’t complain too much on the way there. He opens the door, the bell jangling welcomingly as he steps into the warm shop. It’s completely empty, save for the two employees behind the counter.

Yoongi glances over at the two employees, letting his eyes wander away when his mind catches up to what he’s just seen. Doing a double take, Yoongi stops dead in his tracks, letting out a small noise of surprise. Hoseok bumps into Yoongi, but Yoongi doesn’t even seem to realize, his eyes fixated on the two employees. Well, one more than the other.

Lo and fucking behold, Taehyung’s standing behind the counter—looking goddamn fucking adorable in a printed purple uniform that should look hideous on anyone—balancing an empty cup on his nose with surprising agility while the same fucking kid who had been filming Taehyung the night he’d almost been arrested (Jeonghan? Or was it Jeongguk? Jeong-something, Yoongi’s sure of that) is filming Taehyung’s valiant attempts yet again, laughing hysterically.

“Taehyung?” Yoongi can’t keep the incredulity out of his voice.

Both Taehyung and Jeong-dude turn at the sound of Yoongi’s voice. Yoongi takes a small step back—bumping into Hoseok once again (who makes his displeasure known by pinching Yoongi’s arm, but Yoongi doesn’t really notice—or care—at this point)—when Jeong-dude steps towards Yoongi, because he has the body of a fucking weight-lifter, and despite his cute, non-intimidating face, he kind of looks like he could bench press fifty Yoongi’s without breaking a sweat.

“Yoongi!” Taehyung exclaims at the same time Jeong-dude says, “hey, it’s that guy you tried to kidnap!”

“Tried to kidnap?” Hoseok repeats. “Am I missing something here?”

Taehyung’s made his way around the counter and has walked up to Hoseok, shaking his hand enthusiastically. “I’m Taehyung!”

“Hoseok,” Hoseok replies, smiling despite his confusion. What a trooper. Yoongi, on the other hand, can feel his expression darkening. Once Hoseok knows, that means by default Namjoon and Seokjin will know, which means Yoongi’s life is basically over. “Kidnapping?”

“Oh yeah. I tried to kidnap Yoongi,” Taehyung grins. “I was getting desperate because my boss missed payday and my bank can’t keep up with my lavish lifestyle, so I had to resort to drastic measures.”

“Oh my god,” Hoseok chokes.

“Don’t worry!” Taehyung reassures Hoseok like he was worrying in the first place. “We’re all Gucci, we’re practically joined at the hip, right Yoongi?”

“Nope.”

“See? Best friends.”

Hoseok’s laughing loudly now—the one that sounds somewhat like a fire alarm and Yoongi knows he’s in deep shit. Namjoon and Seokjin are definitely going to know within the hour.

“Wait ‘til Jin hyung and Namjoon hear about this.”

Yep. Certified death.

“Can we get our bubble tea now?” Yoongi waves his hand impatiently, trying to lessen the amount of time Hoseok has to extract more information he can use to blackmail the fuck out of Yoongi. “We’re running on a strict schedule.”

“Oh, sure! Jeongguk!” Taehyung calls to Jeong-dude—Jeongguk—who’s dutifully waiting for them behind the counter. “Can you help them out? This is Jeongguk, by the way! He’s my best friend.”

Jeongguk grins at Yoongi. “Hi hyung—can I call you hyung? I feel like we’re already friends. I mean, you saw me half-naked, and I saw you taped to a chair.”

Yoongi can feel himself aging ten years. All this trouble for bubble tea. “No.”

“Ooh, I like him already Tae,” Jeongguk says to Taehyung, who’s made his way back behind the counter. Taehyung grins.

“See? I told you he was a keeper.”

Yoongi splutters indignantly.

“So. What can I get you today?”

Yoongi’s still incoherently sputtering to himself, so Hoseok nudges him out of the way and rattles off their orders to Jeongguk, who dutifully keys it into the cashier, before accepting their money and bustling off to make their orders.

“Taehyung, aren’t you going to help Jeongguk?” Yoongi asks once he’s managed to get a hold of himself—which was actually a lot harder than he thought. He’s still in disbelief.

“Oh, Taehyung’s fucking useless. Didn’t even show up to training,” Jeongguk says, measuring out the syrup expertly. “The only reason why his ass is still hired is because our boss has a soft spot for him.”

“Hey, I resent that! I’ll have you know that I’m literally an expert at pouring shots now because of Chatime.”

Jeongguk snorts. “Alright. Speaking of shots, you’re coming to Jimin’s party on Friday, right?”

“Duh. Is that even a question.”

Hoseok perks up. “Party?”

“Yeah—hey, you guys should totally come! My boyfriend’s hosting the party. He’s known for having the best parties ever,” Jeongguk says, preening.

“Yeah,” Taehyung agrees fervently. “Jimin’s parties are no joke.”

“Wait—wait, is this by any chance Park Jimin? Does he study biology?” Hoseok looks way too excited now and Yoongi can see the wheels in his head turning. Oh god. Yoongi tries to backtrack.

“Actually, we’re not free this Fri—”

“Yeah, how do you know him?” Jeongguk looks suspicious.

“We used to be in the same dance club! His parties are insane,” Hoseok gushes. “Once I woke up on the other side of campus dressed in a nappy and a bib.”

Taehyung laughs at that. “Sounds like one of Jimin’s parties.”

“You know, actually, Jimin always talked about his boyfriend, but I had no idea it was you,” Hoseok says. “Count me in, I love Jimin’s parties.”

“Yoongi?” Taehyung turns to Yoongi, holding out his finished drink for him. “What about you? You’re going to come, right?”

“Nup. My wild party days are over,” Yoongi says.

But then Taehyung pouts, his eyebrows pulling together and looking so distinctly like a kicked puppy Yoongi wants to cry. He can do this. He can resist. His mama didn’t raise a little bitch.

“Please?”

“Nup. Nope. Zero chance. Nada. Zilch. Not happening.”

“I seriously can’t believe I got talked into going,” Yoongi grumbles, twisting around to check out his back in the reflection.

“Oh please,” Hoseok says from his position on Yoongi’s bed. “Don’t act like you didn’t melt three seconds into your tough guy façade.”

Yoongi ignores his comment. “How does this look? Should I tuck it in or leave it out?”

“You know, I’ve never seen you give so many shits about your appearance. Is it because a certain someone is going to be there?”

Hoseok sounds so smug Yoongi wants to smack him. He didn’t even answer his question. He leaves it untucked.

“No, I just don’t want to look like a slob. Is there a problem with that?”

“Nope. None at all,” Hoseok says, raising his hands in defeat. “Gosh, so touchy.”

“I will kick your ass.”

“On that happy note, let’s go! Time to get fucking hammered.”

Well, at least they agree on one thing.

By the time Yoongi and Hoseok arrive at the apartment, the party is already well and truly in full swing.

The party has extended all the way to the hallway, with people drunkenly swaying to the obnoxious EDM music playing loudly, to the point where it’s hard to see where one person ends and another starts. Edging past a couple kissing, Yoongi and Hoseok walk in through the open front door.

Inside the apartment, it’s packed to the brim and Yoongi can barely take a step forward without getting jostled. There are disco lights swiveling around crazily, momentarily blinding Yoongi as he makes his way through the crowded apartment. On top of the dining table, three girls are dancing in bikinis, each clutching a bottle of tequila and pouring some of the liquid into the waiting people’s mouths below. Yoongi’s also pretty sure there’s a guy wearing nothing but his underwear and a cowboy hat dancing crazily next to another guy wearing a rainbow colored wig.

“Hey!” Hoseok shouts into Yoongi’s ear. “Look, it’s Taehyung.”

Yoongi turns to the direction Hoseok’s pointing at, catching sight of Taehyung who’s making his way through the crowd and kind of just. Freezes.

Yoongi reckon he fulfils the three C’s: cool, calm, and collected. There isn’t really much that gets to Yoongi, nor is he particularly wowed by anything. He’s very much a neutral party.

So there’s a lot to say about the fact that he feels like his heart is about to burst forth from his chest and flop around on the floor (and probably get trampled on), with his mouth drying up in less than two seconds.

And there’s probably also a lot to say about the fact that he feels like he’s in a K-drama, because everything seems to narrow down to Taehyung, and he can only vaguely hear Hoseok asking him if everything’s alright when, well, it’s not really. Everything is most definitely not alright.

Because someone, god knows who, decided to let Taehyung out looking like a fucking god in the most goddamn tightest leather pants in the world—there is a high possibility that they may, in fact, be spray painted on—as well as the lowest v-neck shirt. His eyes are smudged around the edges with kohl, his lips an alluring red and holy shit Yoongi is shook right down to his very core. Yoongi watches, offended, as the shirt slides to the side to reveal Taehyung’s sharp collarbones.

Suddenly, it’s too hot. Like, a sauna in hell kind of hot and Yoongi fans himself, turning to Hoseok with a nervous chuckle.

“Did someone turn on the heating or something,” Yoongi mumbles, laughing awkwardly. “It’s getting hot in here, am I right?”

Hoseok’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Are you feeling okay? It’s not that hot.”

Yoongi doesn’t really pay any heed to Hoseok. Taehyung’s nearly reached the pair and Yoongi’s Not Ready. He needs at least another week and three shots before he’s ready to face Taehyung and his spray painted pants. “I need a drink. Or seven. And someone really needs to lay off the goddamn heating.”

“I think that’s just you being thir—”

“Yoongi! Hoseok hyung!” Taehyung calls over the loud music once he reaches them. Holy shit. Has his voice always been so low? Yoongi swears that just yesterday Taehyung’s voice still hadn’t cracked. “You made it!”

“I made it,” Yoongi says unnecessarily.

“C’mon, lets get you a drink.”

Taehyung grabs Yoongi’s hand and pulls him through the crowd, and Yoongi is suddenly painfully aware of the fact that his hand is probably clammy and sweaty and the fact that Taehyung’s hand is clamped down over it isn’t making things better. At all.

He tries to wiggle his hand subtly out of Taehyung’s grip, but Taehyung looks over his shoulder and shoots Yoongi a grin like nothing’s wrong, tightening his grip on Yoongi’s hand and making it basically impossible for any further attempts at escaping his grip.

They eventually make it to the small kitchen and Yoongi thanks the gods for small mercies when Taehyung finally lets go of his hand. The kitchen, luckily, isn’t crowded at all, with two people standing near the island counter, talking and giggling with their heads together.

They look up when Taehyung enters and Yoongi recognizes Jeongguk, who lets out an excited shout, his hand coming up in a wave. The other, a smaller, blonde haired male with cute smiling eyes, looks curiously towards Yoongi, his lips curving up into a welcoming smile. He catches sight of Hoseok and his eyes light up in recognition as he lets out a surprised noise, immediately making his way over to Hoseok.

“Hyung!” He says in a lilting voice. “You made it!”

The blonde hugs Hoseok tightly who laughs, patting his back fondly. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss your parties for the world, Jiminie.”

Ah. Jiminie. The famous boyfriend.

Jimin diverts his attention to Yoongi, smiling widely—if not a little smugly. Why that is, Yoongi isn’t too sure.

“Yoongi hyung! I’m Jimin. I’ve heard a lot about you from Taehyungie.” Jimin giggles when Taehyung punches his arm. “I’m glad I could finally meet you! Thank you for not calling the police on Taehyung.”

“Uh, nice to meet you, too. And you’re—you’re welcome, I guess?”

“Hyung, you look good,” Jeongguk says, coming up behind Jimin and resting his head on Jimin’s shoulder. “Tae, tell him he looks good.”

Taehyung flushes. “You—you look good, Yoongi. I like your shirt.”

“Thanks. You look good, too.”

More like drop-dead fucking gorgeous, but Yoongi’s not about to say that.

Yoongi can see Jeongguk whispering something into Jimin’s ear, who giggles. Taehyung, who seems to have overhead, blushes furiously and flicks Jeongguk on the nose.

“Hey, asshole. You wanna go?”

“Fuck yeah,” Jeongguk says, stepping away from Jimin to puff his chest out. “I’ll take you out with a hand tied behind my back.”

“Okay boys, time to break it up,” Jimin laughs, pushing the two apart from where they’re standing nose-to-nose, before turning around and picking up two shot glasses filled to the brim with an ominous looking blue-black liquid. “Anyways, Yoongi hyung! This is a welcoming gift from yours truly. Think of it as an… initiation gift.”

“Initiation gift?” Yoongi wrinkles his nose. “Initiation for what?”

“My parties, of course! Anyone who’s been to my parties has had at least one of these in their life. It’s called the Jimin Shot and it’s scientifically proven to get you absolutely fucked. Trust me, I’m a science major,” Jimin winks.

“I’m pretty good at handling my alcohol though,” Yoongi says skeptically.

“No, oh my god Yoongi, that drink is literally certified death,” Hoseok says, shuddering. “I swear that shit is half poison.”

Jimin, Jeongguk, and Taehyung are all wearing identical shit-eating grins as Jimin holds out the shot invitingly, and in all honesty, it’s a little intimidating. But Taehyung is looking at him so expectantly, with a fucking gorgeous grin that lights up his entire face and how can he, a weak mortal, say no to that? How can Min Yoongi resist a smile that is probably carved by angels? The answer: he doesn’t.

Maybe Yoongi wants to prove himself to Taehyung. Maybe he wants to impress him a little. And maybe it’s the adrenaline rushing through his veins that makes him do this. Yoongi’s not sure the sane part of his mind decided this is a good idea, but some part of him thought it is. Maybe it’s a #TBT to the good old glory days of Party Animal Min Yoongi.

That Yoongi takes one look at Taehyung’s excited, expectant expression, blurts out a, “I can drink two easy”, grabs both shot glasses from Jimin’s waiting hands and downs them in quick succession, one after the after.

Hoseok was right, though. There is probably a decidedly illegal substance in the shots because there is no way that the mix was just pure alcohol.

There’s a shocked silence. Yoongi sways unsteadily on his feet for a second and four pairs of hands shoot out to steady him, before he regains his balance and slams the shot glasses onto the counter with a bit more force than necessary.

“Like I said,” Yoongi says, repressing a burp. “Easy.”

Jimin hoots, slapping him on the back, while Jeongguk makes a surprised noise. Hoseok shakes his head in disbelief, muttering an unbelievable.

“Oh my god, you are definitely my kind of friend,” Jimin says, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You, hyung, are welcome any time at this apartment.”

Taehyung stares at him with an unreadable look in his eyes, his lips twitching in amusement. “You are something else, Min Yoongi.”

Maybe it’s the fuzziness in his brain, or maybe it’s the liquid confidence. But there’s something in that drink that makes Yoongi grab Taehyung’s hand and pull him towards the door.

“Let’s dance.”

Somehow they find themselves right in the middle of the throng of sweaty people, swaying in time to the heavy beat. Yoongi’s never been bad at dancing, per say. With all those weekends spent grinding up against a stranger, he feels like he knows how to move his hips just right to get the other person flustered.

Yoongi’s not bad at dancing but Taehyung is on another level. It’s like a switch has been flipped—from a cute, bumbling Taehyung to a Taehyung that looks at Yoongi with a hungry, seductive light in his eyes. Taehyung has a tight grip on Yoongi’s waist, almost guiding him as they grind against each other.

Yoongi turns around, bringing his arms up and looping them around Taehyung’s neck, bringing his face close to Taehyung’s, close enough so they’re breathing the same air.

“You’re—you’re fucking beautiful, you know that?” Yoongi breathes. He can feel Taehyung all around him to the point where it’s almost overwhelming, but it feels right, so fucking right.

Taehyung laughs softly. “You’re so drunk, hyung.”

“I’m sober enough to know what I’m doing when I do this,” Yoongi says, eyes blazing, before he yanks Taehyung down and crashes his lips against his.

Maybe it’s the impact of the Jimin Shot, but Yoongi feels like he’s on top of the world. Maybe Yoongi will regret it in the morning. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But right now, with liquid gold in his veins and stars in his eyes, nothing feels more right than this.

#hi hello i have risen from the dead to offer this fic to you all #taegi #taegi fic #bts fanfic #bts fic #bangtan fic #side jikook #I HOPE U GUYS LIKE IT I POURED MY HEART N SOUL INTO DIS ONE!!

57 notes · View notes