#seriously send an ambulance or some professional help | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writingsbychlo · 3 years ago

Note

💭hi chloe, congrats! could u do a dating ff!tommy head canon (like the ones you have for stiles and mitch) i miss him 🥺

under the cut! i will also link this to my masterlist, because I know how much y'all like these!

PDA

Tommy is kiiiiinda in a middle ground about PDA

He doesn’t feel the need to go over the top, but he isn’t shy about it either

He’ll kiss his girl when he wants, and he isn’t shy of affection either

Little nudges and pokes and a lot of random hugs

On a call together, he keeps it professional, of course

But in your own time? He’s a free man, and he’ll love his girl if he wants to

At the house, he can be extra with PDA, just to annoy everyone

If he gives you a little kiss, or does something which anybody teases him for, he goes into overdrive, just to annoy them

A lot of ‘my love’, ‘angel’, ‘light of my life’, ‘love of my life’, ‘hey pretty girl’

A lot of flirting too

“Oh, damn, good thing we’re firemen because you are smokin’.” and such

He will one hundred percent grab your ass and run away

You’ve actually become pretty used to it, actually

Little slaps, or pinches, or grabs, and then he just runs away laughing

Thinkin’ he’s doing something

But he still blushes when you flirt back, in literally any situation

Using a fire-related pick-up line

“Well, damn, lieutenant, you’d better come over here and handle me then.”

And his jaw would drop and he’d get cute pink cheeks

Which definitely leads to some PDA because he’ll grab your face and kiss you

The PDA gets more after a hard call but nobody says anything then

Hand holding and cuddling and playing with hair

Soft kisses and whispered reassurances while holding each other’s faces

Honestly, he’s not big on making an exhibition, but he will give out a lot of love

HANGING OUT

Hanging out happens a lot

For starters, there’s all day at work, especially on slow days when you might not even get a case

At the beginning of the relationship, that would be awesome, because ‘honeymoon phase’ and all

But once you’ve moved past that and into a more serious relationship, that can be an issue

Like if there’s been a dispute at home or one of you is on edge

So hanging out is pretty much never alone at work

And you try to break it up into chunks too

Making sure you have a girls night with Brenda at least once a week

And once a week he has a guys night, and you plan them on separate days

You actually have too much hang out time on your hands, and it can be a strain

Once you’ve got it down, though, it’s easy

Having TV shows that you binge together, and will never watch without the other

Cleaning and doing household chores together always becoming fun

Especially when you build a playlist for these jobs, and end up dancing and singing together

Also, cooking together

Which is actually usually just one of you cooking, and the other sitting on the counter just to chat

Grocery shopping alone, and making appointments alone

Just so that you always have time apart, to keep things distanced

DATE NIGHT

Date nights are hard to plan when you live together and have such busy jobs

You rarely ever actually feel the need to go out and about to have a date

Really, you just want to get in your comfies and relax together

At first, you both kind of force yourselves to go out

Making bookings and dressing up and going out for dinner

You feel like you owe it to yourselves at the beginning

Even though you don’t need to do the small talk and whatnot

After that, drive through dates in the middle of the night, or going on walks in the park count as dates

And after that, you honestly stop counting dates

You’re just together

Long before you move in together, you’re already basically living together

You drive home from work together, and choose who’s place to crash at

So dates as a concept are pretty irrelevant after a pretty short amount of time

SEX

Oh, don’t even get me started on this

He’s always horny after regular cases

Watching you go into ‘action mode’, he loves it

And you feel the same about him

Definitely having hooked up in the showers a few times at work while you were still in that phase

His hand over your mouth and trying not to let the sounds be too obvious

Trying to keep quiet and failing at it

You’re pretty sure everyone knows, but nobody said anything

Also fucking in one of the firetrucks and the ambulance

When you get a little more self-control, morning sex is usually the way forwards

Because you’re both always so tired after shifts

So morning sex is usually the way to go

If it is morning sex, it’s always sloppy and clingy and passionate

Slow thrusts and wandering hands and deep kisses

Shower sex is also a regular visitor in the morning sex regime

“It’s hot, and easy clean-up, and it’s hot. I see no downsides.”

He loves shower sex

However, if you’ve been out with the team, you’re probably both a little tipsy

Team nights lead to drinking, lead to Thomas openly saying how much he loves how hot his girlfriend is and getting wandering hands

Also kinda sloppy and clingy sex

But a lot hotter

Because you have more energy than mornings, and you’ve got a little liquor behind it

So it’s the times when you both get a little wilder

Day off sex is different, though

Day off sex is much more like making love than just fucking

Because it’s a lazy day, so you’re both in pyjamas

And he’s just turned on because he loves you so much

It’s quite literally just ‘seriously, you’re so cute and I love you so much’ sex

Wearing his oversized shirts and sweatpants and odd socks

And he’s wearing plaid pants or sweats and old shirts

Literally nothing sexy about it but damn you just have so much love

So those are the days where he takes you apart piece by piece

Slow and deep, so much love and kisses

Dirty talk is more just loving confessions

It’s not “I’m gonna have you screaming my name” like drunk sex or morning sex

But it more like “I’m gonna love you forever, I swear it”

Yeah, he’s always clingy, though

AFTERCARE

Big on aftercare. Big big big.

He’s always affectionate but he’s extra affectionate after sex

Brushing your hair back out of your face

If he got messy, he gets a cloth and cleans you up

Plus a lot of cuddling

“You want anything? Some water, I want some water. You want a snack?”

Sometimes you do, sometimes you don’t

If you do, he helps you out on some loose clothes and makes something simple like poptarts

If you don’t he gets you water when he gets his own and brings it to bed

Always helps you get back into some kind of pyjamas afterwards

Even if it’s just throwing them to you if you’re not completely fucked out

Cuddling under the covers afterwards

And it doesn’t get awkward, either

two seconds later, once you’re all cuddled up, he’ll jump right in with “so, guess what my mom texted before-”

And he just skips into the gossip and chatter without any awkwardness

THINGS YOU STEAL FROM EACH OTHER

Ohhh a lot

You wear a lot of his hoodies and shirts and coats

He likes things to be comfortably big on himself, so they’re quite large on you

He steals your slippers and fluffy for a while

Your place has hardwood floors but his has carpets, so when he comes over, his feet get cold

He stretches out your socks and slippers

So you start buying them bigger so they’re comfortable for him

He doesn’t realise until he sees you trip over the extra-long toe length one day

So he buys you your own

You now have like 15 pairs that are alternated around

Honestly, each other’s phones

What do you have to hide from him? You work together, you live together, you have the same friends

So, you use one another’s phones

To get in the groupchat and just reply, or to call someone or send a text

It’s really just about whoever’s phone is closest

He steals your netflix account before moving in

And you steal his spotify premium

His car

It’s cooler and has a smoother drive and you like it

So you like to drive his car around a lot

He always subtly complains about it

“That car is my baby.”

“I thought I was your baby.”

“You’re my angel.”

But he always hands over the keys willingly

And he complains about adjusting the seat after you’ve used it

But he buys the air fresheners you like

PICK UP LINES HE LIKES TO USE

A lot of straight-up firemen puns

“Get rid of your smoke detector, sleep with a fireman.”

“The fire might be out, but you’re smokin’ hot.”

I’m a fireman. I’m an expert in what’s hot.”

But he’s also soft and cheesy and in love with his paramedic girlfriend so

“I’m glad you know CPR, because you just took my breath away.”

“Do you have a band-aid? Because I scraped my knees falling for you.”

“If you’re here, who’d running heaven?”

“Your hand looks heavy, want me to hold it for you?”

“I just stole a kiss. Want it back? Come get it.”

GOING ON CALLS TOGETHER

He's a professional little baby

He won’t let his love for you get in the way, because he knows you’ll yell at him for it

He has a job to do, and he learned the hard way that he has to prioritise that

A lot of arguments and tearful confessions and deep chats made the understanding

But that doesn’t mean you don’t have a few traditions

If it’s just a regular case with him going into a building and you staying outside, it’s the usual

Whispered reassurances as a plan is formed

Before you lock your pinkies, and pull each other close, and kiss your thumbs

It started because you kept bumping your head on his helmet when you tried to give him quick kisses

And then getting in trouble for kissing on the scene when one of the local papers reported on workplace romances

And you aren’t technically doing anything wrong but it made you both mad

So it became a pinky lock, and kissing the edges of your own hand

Because that’s the best you could get

However, if you have to go into a building, he checks your kit himself

You gave up fighting him on it

The only way he was gonna feel reassured was if he’d checked it all himself

Just allowing him to do so at this point

Bumping your helmets together softly before you go inside

When you go inside, you always walk behind him

He never directly demanded that when you were working out boundaries after an argument

But you know it makes him feel better

Always sticking close to his side, and remembering the flashlight technique he’d taught you if you wander off

After cases, when you get back to the firehouse, you always have reassuring little kisses

And that’s his time to support you

Always letting you check him over, even when he’s not hurt

Because he knows that it makes you feel better

And if you have to take a detour to the hospital with patients, he makes sure he has a mug of tea and a snack ready for you when you get back

#9ksleepover

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years ago

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Hello, fic request coming through if you are still doing them! Okay, Carlos has not been feeling well so he stays in and doesn't go to his shift. TK still has his shift, so he wants to stay with Carlos to keep an eye on him but Carlos says he is fine. TK is uneasy at work just wants to go back home, he calls Carlos but he is not answering. Tommy says TK can go check up on Carlos, while he is at home, he finds Carlos in bed and when he goes closer, Carlos is not breathing. Paramedic!TK coming through. Super angst ensues but Carlos makes it in the end after some time in a coma.

holly's august extravaganza day 25: heaving through corrupted lungs

thank you for the prompt!

thanks also to @noxsoulmate for the beta! 💚

ao3 | 2.9k | major character illness, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, brief references to past, canonical character death

“Strand, I know we’re not on a call right now, but you could at least pretend to be focused.”

TK flushes as Tommy’s somewhat less-than amused voice reaches him from the back of the ambulance. He hurriedly locks his phone and shoves it in the glove compartment, though not before checking every messaging app he has for word from Carlos.

There’s none, of course, just like it’s been all day. Logically, he knows Carlos is probably sleeping—god knows he needs it—but that isn’t going to stop him from worrying, or from sending check-up texts every ten minutes. It does, however, stop Carlos from answering, which isn’t very conducive to TK’s ability to concentrate on work today.

“Sorry, Cap,” he says. “It’s just—”

“Carlos is sick and you’re being paranoid, as usual,” Nancy chimes in, audibly rolling her eyes from the driver’s seat. “Look, dude, if he said he’s fine, then he’s probably fine.”

“Well, I’m the paramedic in the relationship, and I say he’s not fine.” TK sighs and forces himself to resist the urge to pull out his phone again. “Carlos likes to lecture me about hiding injuries, but he’s exactly the same when he’s ill; he could be on death’s door and still saying he’s okay. But he hasn’t said anything today, so I’m worried.”

“You’re always worried about him.”

“Welcome to relationships,” Tommy comments. “Seriously though, TK, are you going to be okay to finish this shift? There’s still ten hours to go and we cannot afford for you to be distracted out there.”

TK doesn’t answer right away; on one hand, he’s itching to go home and check on Carlos, to make sure he’s still breathing and actually resting like he’s supposed to be. On the other hand, Carlos would probably kill him if he left work, illness be damned. It’s just… Carlos had looked so ill that morning, skin ashen and voice all but gone, and it had taken a lot of convincing for TK to still go to his own shift. He’d insisted on making sure Carlos had all the blankets and water and snacks and anything else he could possibly want, but even so, he’s still uneasy.

His gut is telling him that something’s wrong, and TK doesn’t think he can ignore it for much longer.

He’s staring out the window, considering his options, when he realises that he knows these streets. Like, actually knows them. They’re right around the corner from his and Carlos’s home, and an idea strikes TK like a lightning bolt.

“Hey, Cap?” he asks, twisting around in his seat to look at her. “How about we take a lunch break now instead of driving all the way back to the station? There’s a great place nearby, and it’s less likely that we’ll be interrupted by a call before we get food.”

Tommy eyes him suspiciously, clearly not buying his innocent act. “What are you talking about, TK?”

“Mine and Carlos’s place is literally two streets away; we could drop by and I could check in on him and make sure he’s okay. Plus,” he continues, already spotting the argument on Tommy’s face, “I’m not lying about the food. Carlos cooks in bulk, so we’ve got loads of leftover casserole in the freezer.”

Tommy pauses, indecision clear in her expression. She narrows her eyes at TK, scrutinising him. “Will this mean you’ll stop being so distracted?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright.” She sighs and nods, and Nancy switches directions to head towards their home. “I’m holding you to that, Strand.”

TK spends the entire drive, short as it is, drumming his fingers on his knees and trying to keep the ever-growing panic at bay. Carlos is going to be fine.

He has to be.

He jumps out the ambulance before Nancy’s even fully stopped it, cursing himself as he fumbles with his keys. Tommy pats his shoulder soothingly; it doesn’t really calm him down, but TK appreciates the effort and her unconditional support. When he gets inside, he simply waves a hand in the general direction of the freezer, hoping Tommy and Nancy get the message, and barrels upstairs, Carlos’s name bursting from his lips.

“Carlos, babe, you here?” It’s a stupid question; TK had seen the Camaro in the driveway and Carlos is far too ill to want to walk anywhere—or so TK hopes—so he has to be home. But the silence draws out, and TK’s heart is pounding a mile a minute by the time he reaches the door to their bedroom.

“Carlos?” He pushes open the door, sighing in relief when he sees his fiancé sprawled across the bed, dead to the world. It’s a little weird that he hasn’t woken up yet given how loud TK was shouting, but it’s probably just because his body needs the rest. TK would bet that the apocalypse could happen outside the window and Carlos wouldn’t so much as stir.

He tip-toes towards the bed, a soft smile spreading across his lips as anxiety gives way to fondness and love. It’s not until he’s within touching distance of Carlos that he registers just how still he is; just how silent the room is.

This morning, Carlos’s breathing was loud and harsh, punctuated with periodic sniffs and coughs.

Now, he’s not making a sound.

And, as TK drops to his knees and bends over his fiancé’s body, he realises that his chest isn’t moving.

Carlos isn’t breathing.

The panic is back in full force as TK frantically presses his fingers to Carlos’s pulse point, praying for something—a flutter, anything—to indicate that Carlos isn’t… That he’s not…

There’s nothing.

Instinct takes over, TK linking his hands on Carlos’s chest and starting compressions even as his vision blurs with tears and he chokes on the sobs building in his throat.

“Cap!” he yells, not taking his eyes off Carlos. “Cap, up here!”

A minute later, Tommy and Nancy burst into the room, both halting in shock for a moment before jumping into action. Nancy moves to the other side of the bed, already pulling out the ambu bag, while Tommy comes to stand by TK.

“What do we have?” she asks, professional as ever, though there’s a clear worried undertone to her voice.

“No pulse, no respiration,” he manages, voice thick. “Skin is warm to the touch. No clear cause, but patient was congested and moderately feverish during the past few days.”

Tommy nods and gently pushes at TK’s shoulder. “Alright, you did good, TK, but you should let us take over now,” she says gently. “Come on, Nancy and I can handle this.”

TK ignores her, continuing compressions with renewed force. “I have to help him, Cap. I have to.”

“And you have, but now—”

“No!” Later, TK will be ashamed of the way he lost control like that, and he’ll have to apologise to Tommy, but the only thing he can really, truly focus on now is Carlos. He keeps pushing, feeling Carlos’s ribs give under his hands, and forces himself to keep going even though his stomach turns at the idea of causing him any pain. “Come on, baby,” he mutters. “Come on, Carlos, please.”

Time is running out; TK can tell by the way the silence is starting to feel heavier and heavier, by the looks he knows Tommy and Nancy must be exchanging over his head. Carlos’s time is running out, and TK is staring down a future he doesn’t know he can survive, and—

“I have a pulse!” Nancy shouts, and the words don’t register in TK’s head until Tommy’s hands are forcibly pulling him back and Carlos’s chest is moving and his eyelids start to flutter.

Tommy slides into the space left by TK, practiced hands checking Carlos’s vitals. “Carlos, can you hear me?”

She gets no response save for a weak groan, then Carlos’s body goes slack again and his head lolls limply on the pillow. TK takes a panicked step forward, but he’s just as quickly pushed back as Tommy secures an oxygen mask over Carlos’s face.

“Nancy, get the backboard and the gurney ready. Heart rate is arrhythmic and respiration is laboured; radio Austin Memorial and get their cardiac unit on standby.”

Nancy dashes out of the bedroom, and Tommy grabs her own radio. “Dispatch, this is RA 126 responding to a cardiac event at 2204 Allred Drive. Patient is unconscious and breathing, however at the time of arrival, he was in cardiac arrest. Duration unknown.”

“Copy that, RA 126.”

Nancy arrives with the backboard, and TK feels like an invisible observer as he watches his two teammates work. He’s stuck, barely breathing, as he watches Carlos struggle and fight for his life; he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if he dies, here and now.

TK moves as if in a nightmare as they get Carlos down the stairs and into the ambulance, eyes constantly locked on his fiancé. He thinks Tommy might say something to him, but he doesn’t hear it and he doesn’t bother to ask—terrible as it is to admit, he doesn’t care right now. He can’t care; there’s no more room inside him for anything else but Carlos.

He wraps a hand around Carlos’s wrist, two fingers resting on his pulse point, and prays that he’ll never have to feel that absence again.

Tommy sits beside him in the waiting room, a silent show of support while they wait for news on Carlos. Or until they catch another call; whichever comes first. Nancy is…somewhere. TK thinks she might have gone to grab some coffee or a snack, but he honestly has no idea. He’s kind of lost track of things, the hospital’s plain white walls turning time into water as they wait, and wait, and wait.

“I know how you feel, you know,” Tommy says, unprompted. “The night that Charles died, I… I spent so long blaming myself. I wasn’t there, you know? And I just kept thinking that if I had been there, if I hadn’t stayed out at Grace and Judd’s, then I might have been able to do something to save him.” She levels him with a firm, yet motherly look, and TK drops his gaze to the floor. “I know now that there was nothing. It kills me to admit it, but what happened would have happened either way, and it’s the same here. Carlos is young, healthy—there was no reason to suspect anything might happen. Certainly nothing like this. You did everything that you could, TK, and you have to hold onto that, no matter what the outcome.”

TK squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, giving up on keeping the tears at bay. Tommy reaches out to wrap one arm around him, but he jerks away, curling in on himself. “It’s not the same,” he whispers, voice thick. “It’s not— I knew, Cap. I knew he was ill and I still left him.”

“You said you guys thought it was just a bad cold.”

“No, I knew. I’m a paramedic, how could I have missed this?”

“These things happen, TK,” she says softly. “It’s cruel, and it’s senseless, and, more than anything, it’s unavoidable. We can go in circles blaming ourselves for it—and I know it’s worse for us; we think we should be able to see everything because it’s our job, right?

“The thing is, we’re the most blind when it comes to the people we love. We think we see everything and we always worry over them, but ultimately we just want to believe that everything’s going to be okay. That they’re going to be okay. It’s hard to accept when they’re not.”

“I should have done more.”

“You did all you cou—”

“No, I didn’t.” He lets out a sob, twisting away from Tommy’s touch once more when she tries to comfort him. “I should have insisted on staying home; I should have thought about going to check on him earlier. We have no idea how long he was lying there, dead—he was dead, Tommy—before we arrived, but if I had been there then I could have gotten him help.”

TK takes a shuddering breath and looks up at his captain, meeting her eyes for the first time since they were in the ambulance. “Tommy, if he dies, then I swear I’ll never forgive myself. Never.”

Tommy looks like she wants to say more, but just as she opens her mouth, her radio crackles to life. She sighs regretfully but stands, clasping TK’s shoulder gently.

“He’ll be okay, TK. Believe in that.”

Looking at Carlos, TK has never believed in anything less. He’s so still and pale on the bed and TK keeps having to check that his chest is still moving, despite the steady beep of the heart monitor and the constant thrum against his fingertips. He hasn’t let go of Carlos’s wrist since he was allowed into the room, and he doesn’t intend to let go until Carlos is back with him, awake and alive and okay.

He’s trying to believe in that outcome as a certainty, but he knows better than that. Carlos might be young and healthy, but the fact still remains that his heart stopped—coming back from that is far from guaranteed.

It’s been three days since the incident, and Carlos’s parents have been in and out, always bringing TK food and trying to engage him in conversation. He tries, for them, but it’s not easy and the attempts always fizzle out before long; TK just doesn’t have it in him anymore to talk and pretend to be positive. Any hope he ever had has abandoned him, the only thing keeping him afloat his grip around Carlos’s wrist.

A tupperware container drops into his lap, and TK looks up to see Andrea standing over him. She reaches across to caress Carlos’s cheek, then sinks into the chair beside TK, giving him a pointed look.

He sighs, attempting a weak smile for her. “I appreciate it, Andrea, but—”

“No,” she interrupts, shaking her head firmly. “No more buts; I won’t hear them. My son might not be able to make sure you take care of yourself, but I am more than capable of taking over for him. I am very strict about food, ask any of his sisters.” Her stern look softens and she pats his arm gently. “Venga, mijo. You’ll feel better for it.”

TK looks down at the dish in his lap, doing his best to keep a grimace off his face. It looks and smells delicious, like all of Andrea’s cooking, but the sight of it makes his stomach turn, his gag reflex activating at the very thought of putting any in his mouth.

“Andrea, I…” He shakes his head and picks the container up with his free hand, handing it back to her. “I can’t.”

And it’s not just that TK can’t handle any food at the moment, though that certainly plays into it.

But they’re tamales.

The Reyes family recipe tamales, passed down through generations, which Carlos has been slowly attempting to teach TK. Which Carlos always makes on special occasions, and sometimes just for the hell of it.

Which Carlos made the night he proposed.

Andrea looks set to argue, but TK forces an end to the conversation by making her take the container and turning back to Carlos.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, knowing he’s disappointed her. “It’s just hard.”

She sighs and rubs his back. “I know. Just don’t come to me when Carlos wakes up and realises you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

That almost gets a laugh out of him, and TK looks over to smile at Andrea. It’s a brittle thing, but it’s a smile all the same, which is more than he’s managed in three days. She smiles back at him, and it helps him feel not so alone in all this.

A weak groan is all the warning he gets before, “Are you turning down my mother’s cooking?” reaches his ears, and TK gasps, whipping around to stare at the bed.

Right into Carlos’s eyes.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, tears springing to his eyes. “Oh my god.”

“Hey, baby.” Carlos’s voice is rough and rasping, his eyes fluttering closed again a second later, though TK can tell that he’s still awake. He reaches to the table and pours a cup of water, encouraging Carlos to lift his head and drink through the straw.

“Slow sips, that’s it,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb gently along Carlos’s wrist, still holding on tightly.

Once Carlos has drunk his fill, he opens his eyes again and looks up at TK, gaze searching his face. “I love you,” he rasps, smiling gently, “but did you really just say no to my mom’s tamales?”

TK splutters, but he can’t keep the smile off his own face, shaking his head fondly at Carlos. “I love you too, idiot,” he says. “And tamales don’t taste the same without you there to eat them with me.”

“Good thing I’m here now, then.”

TK hums. “Guess it is.”

(Later, after the nurses and doctors have come and gone, TK will pick up the tub of tamales, left behind by Andrea when she went to tell everyone the good news.

He and Carlos will split one, pressed close together in the bed to avoid getting crumbs on the sheets. Carlos will be smiling at him the entire time, and TK will kiss him over and over, relishing the sensation of Carlos kissing him back.

And it’ll be the best damn tamale TK has ever eaten.)

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plaidbooks · 4 years ago

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Hii!!☺️ could i request Barba x reader, where raf is seriously injured and the reader takes care of him, and he is so moved that someone had never cared and loved him like that🥺🥺, please? 🤗 your writing is amazing i love it!! 🥰💕

Taking Care

A/N: Hey anon <3 This got...this is much longer than I expected it to be haha. I tried to not make Rafael too self-deprecating...if I do a part two though, then he may go full self-hating....

Tags: bullet wounds, mentions of needles/blood

Words: 3109

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @ben-c-group-therapy @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @dianilaws

You finished washing your hands quickly, hurrying out of the courthouse bathroom. You usually didn’t duck out during trials, but you didn’t know when the next recess would be, and you needed to excuse yourself. Besides, you had been there for the victims, and you had left during Rita Calhoun’s, the defense attorney’s, posturing; you didn’t need to be there for that. You had just made it back to the courtroom as Judge Ortiz was calling it for the night. Of course. You rolled your eyes; that was just your luck.

“Welcome back, Detective,” Rafael quipped, a sardonic smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

You shot him a playful glare. “I blame you; you’re the one that got me that large coffee during lunch.”

He really did smirk at you this time. “I did, didn’t I? I think that means you owe me a drink. Forlini’s?” You smiled back at him; you and Rafael were good friends, and you enjoyed his company…maybe a little too much. Not that you’d tell him that.

“Sounds good to me. Right this way, counselor—” you were cut off by a gunshot, ringing out in the courthouse. People screamed, ducking their heads. You reached for your gun, drawing and aiming at the defendant, who had somehow gotten the bailiff’s pistol, who was now aiming at you. But you were quicker, shooting him once in the chest. It wasn’t until you watched him hit the ground that you remembered he shot first. Eyes scanning the courtroom, you froze, hesitating for a moment when you saw Rafael on his back, blood seeping through his expensive suit at his left shoulder.

“Fuck,” you muttered, dropping to your knees by his head. You ripped your jacket off, pushing it to the wound. His eyes were wild, and he was gasping for air. If it wasn’t for all your years on the force, you’d probably be panicking as much as everyone else in the courthouse was. Hell, you were panicking, but on the surface, you were calm, professional.

“10-13, shots fired, officer down, send a bus to the courthouse now,” you ordered into your portable radio. You didn’t care if he wasn’t an officer; it was the quickest way to get an ambulance. You leaned over Rafael, trying to make eye contact with him. “Can you hear me, counselor?” you asked, keeping your voice level. “What’s your name? Can you tell me where you are?” His eyelids fluttered closed, and your hands started to shake. “Come on, talk to me…stay with me Rafael, do you hear me? Open…open your eyes…come on!”

You vaguely noticed people standing around you, hovering and looking down on you both. “Stand back, please. Give us some room,” you said, waving at them with a hand. They shuffled back, giving you some air. “Come on, Raf…stay with me, baby…you’re not going to die here, dammit,” you muttered. Where was that damn ambulance?

You swore your heart stopped when his chest did. Glancing up, you saw Rita standing and watching, eyes wide. “Rita, hold the jacket to his wound,” you ordered. She hesitated for only a moment before she was on the ground next to you, hands replacing yours. “Just hold it there.” Thank god you were certified in CPR; you pumped Rafael’s chest, stopping only to breathe into his mouth. You were dimly aware of how soft his lips were—you had wanted to know how his lips felt for so long, but this was not how you wanted to find out. You had to do this process twice more before Rafael was breathing again, and you sighed in relief. You took the jacket back from Rita, letting her rest back on her heels, in shock that one of her friends is in Death’s grasp.

Finally, the paramedics were pushing through the crowd. “He was shot with a 9mm and I had to perform CPR; he stopped breathing for maybe 10 seconds,” you reported as they loaded Rafael onto a stretcher. “I’m riding with him.” You turned back to Rita. “Call Olivia—let her know what happened and to meet me at the hospital.” It wasn’t until you got into the back of the ambulance, the sirens wailing, and saw Rafael with an oxygen mask on, medic’s frantically trying to keep him alive, that the tears started to fall.

*******************

“He lost a lot of blood,” the doctor was telling you. “We called his mother; she has the same blood type. All we can do is hope she makes it in time.”

“Wait; I’m type O negative. Can’t I donate to him?” you asked, heart in your throat.

The doctor looked surprised. “Yes, of course. Let’s get you prepped.” You followed him to a secluded room. He ran a quick test, to confirm that you were indeed O negative, and then he placed a needle in the crook on your arm, ordering a nurse to bring you water.

By the time you were done donating blood and heading towards the waiting lobby again, albeit a little lightheaded, Olivia was there, along with the other SVU detectives…and Rafael’s mother, Lucia.

Lucia came to you, hands on your shoulders and shaking you slightly. “Where’s my Rafi? Is he okay?” The shaking made you feel dizzy, nauseous. Olivia must have seen the look on your face, because she gently pulled Lucia from you.

“He lost a lot of blood, Mrs. Barba. I gave him some of mine, but we should ask the doctor if it was enough, or if you need to give some, too,” you said, leading her back to the nurse who just helped with you. Lucia’s eyes had sparkled when she noticed the bandage around your arm.

********************

As it had turned out, just your donation was enough, and Rafael would make a full recovery. He was staying in the hospital for at least 48 hours before he’d be released. And during those 48 hours, you’d be fighting IAB about the shooting. You were only able to visit with Rafael once while he was in his hospital bed—he was just as snarky and sarcastic even with morphine pumping through his system. You had brought him a bouquet of flowers and a small assortment of expensive chocolates that you knew he liked. His mother had thanked you profusely for being in the courtroom when he was shot, for staying with him until he was taken to the hospital, and for donating blood when she wasn’t there.

“You…you donated blood?” Rafael asked, his ears slightly pink.

You smiled sheepishly. “Yeah…I’m O negative, universal donor and all that…guess that’s payback for the large coffee?” you joked.

He had a small, tight smile, a nod. “Sure…thank you.”

******************

You were finally cleared by IAB, but Olivia wasn’t letting you back to work yet, telling you to take some time off. The therapist that ran your psych evaluation had reported that you were still in shock from the shooting, that you were shoving all your feelings down instead of dealing with them. Olivia said that until you dealt with them, you were out. So, you found a therapist, started working through everything. And they suggested talking to Rafael, making sure he was alright. Because deep down, you blamed yourself for his injury.

Which is how you ended up on his doorstep, a container of your family’s minestrone soup in your hands, knocking on his door and waiting. You were greeted by Lucia Barba, who smiled brightly when she saw you.

“Oh! [Y/N], how are you?” she asked, beckoning you inside.

You moved past her, into the loft, sniffing appreciatively at whatever she was cooking. “I’m doing well, ma’am. How are you? And Rafael?”

“I’m going insane,” Rafael’s voice came from the couch in his living room, and his mother scoffed. He struggled to a sitting position, grimacing and grunting the whole time, and Lucia hurried over to help him.

“Rafi, stop being so damn stubborn,” she admonished, readjusting the pillow behind him.

He huffed out a soft “sorry, Mamí,” and you smiled. “But you really should be going back to your school; they’re missing you.”

“Nonsense; my little mijo was shot. I’m not leaving you alone,” Lucia said, kissing his forehead.

Rafael’s eyes darted around the loft, landing on you standing there awkwardly. “B-but I’m not alone! [Y/N] is here; I’ll be fine.”

She glanced at you, eyes narrowing in the way that mother’s who are being replaced do. You swallowed nervously. “Uh, y-yeah! I’m here to check up on Rafael…look, I brought soup!” You lifted the container of soup, and Lucia glared daggers at you.

“Fine, I’ll go. But you call me if you need anything,” and then she said a bunch of things in Spanish that sounded suspiciously like threats. You saw Rafael’s eyes widen, and he nodded, swallowing hard. You both sat there in awkward silence as she packed her things and left.

“Thank you,” Rafael finally said after she was gone.

You came to sit across from him, taking in his appearance. Despite the bruising still visible, peeking out from underneath the collar of his shirt, he looked well-rested. This was probably the most sleep he’d ever gotten

“Anytime. How’re you feeling?” you asked.

“Like I was shot,” he smirked.

“Well, I got news for you, Raf.”

Rafael gave you a playful glare. “Don’t be a smartass.”

You both chuckled until he winced, huffing in pain. “You okay? Anything I can do?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth, his head leaning back on the couch. When he caught you giving him a pointed look, Rafael sighed. “Fine; I have an ice pack in the freezer. Could you please bring it?”

You moved to his kitchen, pulling the freezer open and grabbing the ice pack. You wrapped it in a towel and came back to Rafael. He placed his hand over yours, guiding the ice pack to his shoulder, hissing at the cold.

You sat in silence, only moving again to put the ice pack back in the freezer after 20 minutes had passed. Finally, Rafael said, “you don’t have to stay here, you know. I only said that to assure my mother. I love her, but she was smothering me. I may have gotten shot, but I’m not dead yet.”

“Do you blame her, Raf? You were…it was bad. You were unconscious; you didn’t have to see your own body lying lifeless on the ground, blood everywhere—”

“Hey, hey…I’m okay though, aren’t I? I’m sitting right here, [Y/N],” he murmured.

You took a deep breath, controlling yourself. You realized that besides the witnesses in the courtroom, the IAB officers, and yourself, no one knew what happened in the courtroom—not even Olivia or SVU. He didn’t know that he did die…at least for a couple seconds. And like hell were you going to tell him.

“Yeah, you’re right, you’re fine. But I’m not gonna lie to your mom,” you said. “At least let me make dinner, wait until you go to sleep for the night.” Rafael looked like he was going to argue, but you raised your voice over him, “you couldn’t beat me in a fight before, Raf, and you definitely can’t now.”

He huffed, hunching his shoulders and sinking into the couch. “Fine.” He glared at you for a moment. “You said you brought soup, right?”

********************

You spent the rest of the day with Rafael, making sure to give him his space, but also taking care of him. You didn’t want to just be his mother 2.0, but you also didn’t want him to hurt himself. Mostly, you waited for the drugs to knock him out before you went about cleaning his kitchen, washing dishes, finding cleaning supplies and doing little jobs as he snored softly on his couch. You made sure you were on the opposite couch by the time he woke up, idly watching TV or scrolling your phone as if you were doing nothing. He always looked embarrassed when he awoke, saying that you didn’t need to babysit him, but you scoffed, telling him you had nothing better to do today anyways. Eventually, it was late, and you helped him off the couch and towards his bedroom.

“It’s a shoulder injury; I don’t need help walking,” Rafael huffed, making his way down the hallway.

You grinned following him. “True, but I want to make sure you end up in bed okay…do you—do you need help changing shirts?”

His face turned full red, making the heat rise in your cheeks. He was already in a button-down shirt; it was probably easier to put on than a regular shirt. “I, uh…if—if you don’t mind…I can’t sleep in shirts…I have a, um, sensitive throat, and I feel like I’m choking,” he mumbled, looking away from you.

“O-oh,” you said. “Here, let me help you, then.” You moved to stand in front of him, your fingers shaking slightly as you unbuttoned his shirt. You pulled his right sleeve off before moving to gently tug it off his left. The scar just below his collarbone was angry and puckered, such a stark contrast to the rest of his smooth, tan skin.

Rafael cleared his throat, and you tore your eyes from his chest to look at him, embarrassed that you were caught staring. “Thank you for today, Detective,” Rafael gave you a soft smile, turning and heading towards his bed.

Your eyes roamed over his broad back and you fought the urge to reach out and run your nails over his skin. Instead, you hovered over him, making sure he didn’t hurt himself as he settled down. “Good night, Raf,” you whispered down at him.

“Night, [Y/N],” he muttered back.

You meant to leave his loft, to go home. Really you did. But you couldn’t force yourself to leave Rafael all alone in his loft, not when the memory of him dying in your arms on the courtroom floor was still so fresh in your mind. Though, you also couldn’t stay in the same clothes, with no deodorant or toothpaste. So, you waited until he fell asleep before you reluctantly left his place, rushing home and filling a duffel bag with necessities, then hurrying back. You stuck your head into his room, smiling when you heard his soft snores.

*******************

Waking up on a couch at Rafael’s loft was…disorientating at first. It took a moment for you to remember where you were before it hit you. After checking on the still-sleeping Rafael, you went about making coffee. Then, you looked in the fridge, seeing what you could make for breakfast. It seemed like his mom had premade a bunch of meals, so you’d just wait for him to wake up before heating anything up.

You heard a muffled groan come from the direction of Rafael’s room, and you hurried down the hallway. You knocked twice before entering. “Are you okay?” you asked.

Rafael was standing, his right arm through a shirt sleeve, and he was struggling to put on the other side. Though, when you came into his room, he jumped, cursing in Spanish before asking, “what the hell are you doing here?”

“Helping you,” you replied, moving behind him and pulling his shirt so that he could slip his left arm through the sleeve. You came in front of him, buttoning up his shirt carefully.

“You…you don’t have to—” Rafael started before you cut him off.

“Stop saying I don’t have to, Raf. I know I don’t have to,” you glanced up into his green eyes. “I want to. We…we’re friends, aren’t we? So, let me take care of you.”

You buttoned the last button over his chest, and his hands rested over yours, holding them there against his solid torso. His eyes bored into yours, and you swallowed nervously. “Friends don’t take care of each other, [Y/N]…not like this,” he muttered.

“Then you’ve had shitty friends, Raf,” you replied, your heart in your throat. His eyes seemed to stare right through you, see all your secrets.

“Tell me why…why do you care so much about me?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

You opened your mouth but was saved by the coffee maker beeping. Rafael’s eyes flitted to the door, and you took this time to turn from him, gesturing him to follow. “I made coffee, and I was going to heat up some of the food your mom made for breakfast.”

He had no choice but to follow you to the kitchen as you made him a coffee, insisting on doing the sugar and cream for him. “You didn’t answer me,” Rafael said, taking a sip of his coffee after you handed it to him.

Outside of the intimacy of his bedroom, it was easier to not tell him the truth…at least not the full truth. “Is it weird that I care about you, Raf? I…I care about Olivia, too. And the rest of the squad. I’d help any of you, especially after being shot and dying—”

“’Dying’? I didn’t die—” Rafael stopped talking when he saw the look on your face. “[Y/N]…is there something you need to tell me?”

You fidgeted with your coffee mug before saying in a low voice, “you stopped breathing in the courtroom, Raf. I…I performed CPR on you. I—there was a moment where I thought you might’ve—”

Rafael put a hand behind your neck, tugging you towards him as he kissed you gently, his lips just as soft as the first time you felt them. But this was so much better. You kissed him back, your hands threading in his hair, careful not to pull him too hard as you held him to you.

He gently pulled back from you, panting slightly. “I’m sorry, I’ve just…no one’s ever taken care of me before. And—and not only have you stayed here all night, but you’re the reason I’m even still alive.”

“Raf…” you murmured, cupping his cheek with your hand. Your heart strained for him. “I’m here for you. I’ll take care of you for as long as you need—”

“I can’t ask you to do that. You have a life to live, a job to do.”

You shook your head. “I’m on leave. I…the shooting affected me more than I thought. I’m free to help—”

“You should be helping yourself before you help me—”

“This is helping me, Raf. Trust me. Now let me take care of you, dammit,” you smiled, leaning in to kiss him gently.

“Mmm, how can I say no when you kiss me so sweet?” he replied, grinning.

#rafael barba x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #anon #Anonymous

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lostworldpixie · 3 years ago

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Game Theories - Sally Face

So one thing I’d like to post about here would be game theories. I like to theorise when I play games, but I don’t really have anyone to talk to about that, so here I thought I’d post it for people who might like this type of stuff. Continue reading for my Sally Face theories! This also contains spoilers for the game! Please only read if you’ve played the game fully, avoid the spoilers!

Oh, you’re still here? Hi! Haha well, I am not what you would call a professional game theorist (is that a real thing?) but this is just me posting for fun! So please don’t take me too seriously okay? Thank you! Well, feel free to send me questions! I’d love to discuss theories with interesting people :D Oh please also keep in mind that while I have finished Sally Face (and am anxiously waiting for the second game!) I am currently in the process of getting 100% completion on all episodes, so I am theorising here with what I’ve seen so far! Once I have 100% I think I might post a walkthrough and pass on my knowledge.

Theory One - The doggo

Well, now I haven’t read any other theories on this game before, I’d like to do that once I have 100%, and I imagine it has a lot of discussions out there in internet land, so this is just me going by my own theories.

So at the start of the game we begin with Sal, he has bandages all over his face and when you see his mother she is dead and with lots of bruises. Upon finding your way outside you talk to a dog, the conversation seems confusing and the dog disappears. I am not fully sure of the significance of this dog, but when you find your way through the door maze, you spell out the word ‘dog’, and then you see your mother’s funeral and talk to the dog.

At the end of chapter one/start of chapter two ‘memories and dreams’ a young Sal can be seen talking to his mom about wanting to go and pet the dog, the mother takes him along, as you walk by and out of frame you can notice the silhouette of a dog in the trees (if you look closely) in the next frame, Sal’s face is bleeding heavily, and you pass by a lot of dog bones as you walk toward the ambulance, also covered in blood. My theory here was that as a child it seems that Sal really liked dogs and would always want to pet them, perhaps memories and dreams is a memory of Sal’s on how he lost his mother. Maybe as a child he begged his mom to let him go see this dog, and the two of them got attacked. As Sal was young his mother wanted to protect him from the dog, so perhaps the dog killed her and Sal got away with a mauled face.

This is probably the most obvious theory and is more than likely what everyone else is saying lol, but I thought it was interesting. It also seems that Sal was given Gizmo (his cat) at some sort of therapy session (you can see this in the final episode) so maybe he became afraid of dogs, and was given a cat to help him.

Theory Two - Ghosts

So I had some insight into why Sal could communicate with ghosts before he got given his Super Gear Boy. I thought maybe he was a ghost himself. Yes this theory is a little out there and doesn’t make a lot of sense lol, but Sal was able to communicate with Megan before getting his upgraded gear boy. We also know he was hurt badly as a kid, maybe he was even killed. Yes I said this one didn’t make sense since he is executed in the future, and his friends and family etc. can see him anyways, but the next theory makes more sense I promise lol.

Theory Three - It’s the drugs, man

There are a lot of similarities between this game and Fran Bow, perhaps some that are less obvious, such as prescribed medication and hallucinations. In Sal’s bedroom you can see pill bottles on his dresser, so he obviously takes some sort of medication. I imagine it is linked to the trauma of the dog (if this theory is correct), maybe it is similar to Fran Bow’s medication and it makes him see a lot of weird things. Such as demons, ghosts, etc. Another part of this theory was that possibly Sal is in a coma, and all of it is one big dream.

I imagine that his trial is real and that he was executed (sad times) but maybe during his time in prison they sedate him, and this makes him dream and see a lot of weird crap.

I guess that’s all I have for you guys for now. Feel free to discuss in my ask box!

#sally face #game theory

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tomorrowusa · 3 years ago

Link

It’s bad enough that anti-vaxxers are overcrowding hospitals when they come down with COVID-19 which could have been prevented or mitigated with a free vaccination.

Now the idiots are putting further strain on hospitals and medical professionals by overdosing on livestock dewormer.

Emergency Room patients in Oklahoma suffering from heart attacks, gunshot wounds, and highway injuries now have to compete with MAGA zombies who had foolishly been gorging themselves on Ivermectin.

“The [emergency rooms] are so backed up that gunshot victims were having hard times getting to facilities where they can get definitive care and be treated.

“Ambulances are stuck at the hospital waiting for a bed to open so they can take the patient in and they don’t have any, that’s it. If there’s no ambulance to take the call, there’s no ambulance to come to the call.”

McElyea told the Tulsa World a colleague was forced to send one severely ill Covid patient to a hospital in South Dakota, three states away to the north.

“They had sat in a small hospital needing to be in an [intensive care unit] for several days, and that was the closest ICU that was available,” he said.

The article didn’t specify the location in South Dakota, but the nearest city there to Tulsa is Yankton. That’s 560 miles/901 km.

An 8.5 hour ambulance ride while on a ventilator doesn’t sound pleasant. A direct route by air, presuming one is available, would still be 489 miles/787 km.

According to Johns Hopkins University, in the past week Oklahoma has recorded more than 18,400 cases and 189 deaths. The same source puts the death toll in Oklahoma over 8,000, out of more than 647,000 across the US.

The vast majority of US hospitalisations and deaths are among unvaccinated people. Amid opposition to vaccines and public health mandates stoked by Republican politicians, conservative media and disinformation on social media, many have turned to ivermectin.

It doesn’t help that misinformation spreaders like Joe Rogan are making things worse.

This week, the influential podcaster Joe Rogan, who has been dismissive of vaccines, announced he had tested positive for Covid and was taking ivermectin.

It’s better to listen to reputable medical professionals than to moronic anti-science blowhards when it comes to matters of public health. Seriously, do you want to risk blindness because Tucker Carlson or Joe Rogan are encouraging you to take Ivermectin?

The American Medical Association appealed for an “immediate end” to the drug’s use, outside studies seeking to determine if the drug has any use against Covid-19, with federal and state regulators tracking side effects and hospital admissions.

A panel from the National Institutes of Health found “insufficient evidence” for or against using the drug for Covid-19.

In Oklahoma, McElyea said: “Some people taking inappropriate doses have actually put themselves in worse conditions than if they’d caught Covid. The scariest one that I’ve heard of and seen is people coming in with vision loss.

“You have to ask yourself, ‘If I take this medicine, what am I going to do if something bad happens?’ What’s your next step, what’s your back-up plan?”

Show some horse sense and get vaccinated. It’s a lot safer than quack medicines. And the free vaccination is enormously cheaper than an ambulance ride (not covered by insurance) to a hospital three states away.

Find COVID-19 Vaccines Near You

#anti-vaxxers #covid-19 #coronavirus #pandemic #tulsa #oklahoma #misinformation #republicans #ivermectin #overdose #overcrowded hospitals #south dakota #very long ambulance rides #free-dumb

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skelemira · 3 years ago

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Ooooh whats Rowan's lore? *grabs popcorn*

ALRIGHT BUCKLE UP BUTTERCUPS

Gonna leave it after the cut (if I remember how to do the cut right on mobile lol) so I don't clog up feeds

So Rowan started out as a human. Her family was okay financially, probably lower middle class. Not rich enough to be truly comfortable, but not in a whole lot of danger debt-wise. She had a mother, a father, an older sister named Magnolia (Nolia for short) and a little brother named Cedar (lol do you see a naming pattern here I'm so creative). Her parents were... Okay. They weren't abusive or anything, but they weren't exactly doting. They didn't really have the time to be doting, since they both worked all the time. The siblings all got along really well, though, the type of siblings that stuck together initially because they lacked that true family relationship but slowly morphed into ride or die siblings.

So one day, little 14-year-old Rowan (Nolia was 16, soon to be 17, and Cedar was 10) gets home from school, pretty average, normal day.

She's sitting at the table doing her hw when someone knocks at the door and her parents (it was kind of weird, they were never home at this hour) rush to open it. There stands a man in a lab coat, holding an envelope. Rowan hated him instantly. Something about him seemed wrong.

He talked to her parents for a bit, and her parents asked her to go get Nolia and Cedar with some urgency in their voices. And.... If she was right in placing that tone.... Guilty excitement...?

She got her siblings and they came downstairs.

Turns out her parents had been closer to debt than she realized. So to get some more money and.... Relieve some financial burdens, they sold their kids to a group of scientists needing victi----research participants.

Of course there was a struggle, Nolia stepping up to try and defend her siblings, screaming at her parents, Rowan holding Cedar close while silent tears poured down both their faces.

But the scientist was prepared, and before anyone could react, three men appeared with rags, holding them over the kids' mouths.

She woke up in an empty white room.

Well... If you could call it white. It was more of a dinghy, hardly cleaned beige. These men were not with the government, she could immediately tell that.

Gonna sum up this part bc it involves torture but basically the scientists were experimenting to see if they could turn a human into a monster. They found only Rowan's soul was compatible. They used her siblings to keep her under control..... Only they had dumped Nolia and Cedar on the streets weeks ago. They simply reused footage to "prove" to Rowan they were still there.

They almost succeeded in their experiment. They forced so much magic into her soul that it started to flip.... But it was too much and Rowan flatlined. They dumped her body in the woods, only disappointed that they came so close.

A couple months passed. Her body decayed until only her skeleton remained. The decaying process was helped along by all the magic, which seemed to have concentrated in her bones, morphing them slowly until they were all connected.

She woke up.

She spent several years on the streets. She begged, she stole, and... She drank. Or at least she tried to. (She was allowed into bars because people thought she was a monster, and she wasn't wearing stripes, so that must mean she was an adult.) She quickly discovered that her alcohol tolerance was *legendary*. She drank bars dry having drinking contests with people (that's how she paid for all her drinks) but felt no different than before. Eventually someone dared her to try Everclear, and though she grimaced at the taste, she drank the entire bottle.

The bar was silent.

The taste eventually grew on her, a kind of self-inflicted punishment that soon became a routine, almost a comfort.

Now a good chunk of the next part has to do with my friend's sonas which I'm not going to talk about because they're not my characters, but suffice it to say they were amazing friends to her and helped her recover and get on her feet.

One such friend discovered her sleeping by Grillby's dumpster, and Grillby let her stay the night on his couch, setting up a job at Muffet's for her the next day. She and Muffet became really close friends and finally she started to have a more stable life. (She finds and dates Underlust Sans but that's another story lol which I would be happy to share in another ask~ but y'all these two are so cute plz)

So someone suggests she go see a therapist. Goodness knows she's got some trauma. So she agrees. The name of her therapist seems..... Eerily familiar but she decides to ignore her gut and go anyway. She walks into the therapist's office and---

And sees her mother sitting there, looking professional and well-rested and happy.

She runs.

Yeah so suffice it to say she isn't gonna trust therapy again for a bit lol, and it takes her even LONGER (and some good therapy sessions) to accept the fact that her mother was clearly better off without her and her siblings.

Yeah ya girl has a lot of issues, especially abandonment <3 she is very much a people pleaser and WILL put your needs high above her own. Anything to make you want to stay. Anything to make her feel needed or wanted.

So she's hanging out at Grillby's one day (he and his bartender like to try out different mixes on her, try to see if they can get her to make a face at a cocktail) when a huge party comes in. Rowan automatically shrinks a bit from discomfort because of the big crowd, and she continues her game with Grillby and the bartender (the bartender is my friend's sona that's why I'm not naming them lol). Then she hears something that makes her freeze mid-sip.

"Let's hear it for Magnolia!!!! The first of us to get tied down!" Followed by raucous laugh....ter...

She recognizes that laugh.

She flees the bar, with no explanation to anyone. She catches a glimpse of Nolia, with Cedar by her side, and both of their eyes squint slightly in confusion as she passes by them.

She makes it outside, looking around for where to go, unable to think in her panicked confusion when---

"R......Rowan?"

She goes ramrod straight and slowly turns, hands balled into fists to hide the violent shaking. Nolia bursts into tears, Cedar immediately clinging to her stiff form, his shoulders shaking as bad as her hands.

They.... Recognized her. They.........

Were *happy* to see her.

Slowly she hugged them back and they got to catching up. (So yeah if it wasn't clear Nolia was getting married, they both had survived on the streets together until Nolia was old enough to get a job).

Also something I forgot to mention lol is Rowan had found 2 kittens behind Muffet's, an older girl kitten fiercely protecting a little boy kitten. They immediately latched onto her after she made it clear she wasn't a threat, and she decided to name them after her siblings.

Also things worth noting, she smells like apples, she has magical red translucent hair, her soul wavers from more upside down like a monster's to more upright like a human's, she loves to bake, she is like the DEFINITION of cottagecore, she has magical tattoos on her face that change around to look like the Day of the Dead skulls (the colors get brighter or darker with her moods), and she drinks 2 bottle of everclear every time she goes to Grillby's. The paramedics in the area quickly become used to people calling the ambulance when she drinks (seriously look up everclear it's basically pure alcohol). She eventually stops drinking (not that it was *really* harming her since she had that alcohol tolerance and a body made primarily of magic at this point (plus alcohol isn't really gonna hurt her, she doesn't have kidneys lol) but she wanted to stop anyway. She loves to paint and teaches one of her friends to paint, tending to her friend's garden while her friend paints. She also loves to cook and bake, she eventually helps out with baking at Muffet's, though she refuses to bake the spiders into the pastries. Her scones are things of legend, they sell out as soon as she brings the tray out of the kitchen.

Yeah that was a lot lol and there's little things here and there that I missed so feel free to send in questions about her if you want to know anything! Or if you want to know how Rowan and UL Sans got together (spoiler: they eventually get married and it's so cute)

#ask #anon #oc time babyyyy #Rowan #Rowan beloved #also thank you guys so much for asking about her #I adore her so much and don't get the chance often to share her lore

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fairycosmos · 4 years ago

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i just spent 2 hours trying to hang myelf and when that didn't work trying to strangle myself with a cord. i tried so hard. my face is full of broken blood vessels, my eyes too and my neck feels tight and is bruised and i cant swallow. im in such pain. physical and emotional. why is it so hard. i want to die. im so alone. i hurt so much. even killing yourself is a luxury i have no access to pills or drugs. i want to die it hurts so much my neck hurts everything i want to die

hey, jesus dude i’m really really sorry. obviously you’re in a lot of pain right now and i don’t want to condescend to you when i don’t know your specific needs or history. you may not be in the headspace to be able to take any of this seriously and if that’s the case i understand, but i hope you can come back to it when you are ready. i just want to let you know firstly that i’m so so glad you’re still here and that you are absolutely not alone. can’t imagine what has gotten you to this point and i don’t blame you for being tired because whatever it is, i can see that it is all so very difficult in the most unexplainable way, and i don’t want to minimize that at all. but the fact that you’re alive and surviving this moment, no matter how much you don’t want to, counts for so so much. your future self knows it too. please for now, just get yourself to a safe and familiar location and work on trying to come down from the adrenaline rush. breathe in for 4, hold for 4, out for 4. name 5 things you can see, 4 you can physically feel, 3 you can hear, 2 you can smell, 1 you can taste. understand that these little habits are not cures to your situation obviously, i’m not saying a few deep breaths is going to fix anything. there is clearly a much larger issue at play here, it’s just a matter of grounding yourself in this moment so you can find some clarity. mental illness only functions to warp your entire reality and level of judgement, you can not trust your brain or your beliefs about yourself/the world right now. i know it hurts and it feels like the realest thing in the universe. but these impulses are so strong that they’re generally not built to last - you CAN move forward from this and you CAN find a healthier way to do it. no matter what your mind is telling you. if you have ever felt like this before and gotten through it, then that is proof of this.

are you so injured that you need to call an ambulance or go to the ER? are you struggling to breathe, having chest pain or coughing up blood? if so, please call them right now. please. if not, is there anyone less immediate that you can call? i’m talking a suicide hotline, a friend, a family member, your doctor, your therapist if you have one, literally anyone. your brain is likely going to reject this idea but it’s one of the most effective ways of stopping this suicidal cycle that you’re currently stuck in. people care about you, they do, and it’s important to give them the opportunity to show that. you need outside intervention to mediate the situation, and it is perfectly ok to need that support. it is truly completely understandable and it is not going to be anywhere near as bad or as scary as your fear is building it up to be. please consider reaching out to someone my love. i’m not just saying this just to say it, your life has so much inherent worth and your current circumstances are not where you’re destined to stay. i understand that it’s tiring and sometimes it doesn’t feel worth it hanging on day after day, just for some vague notion of improvement occurring in some far off future. but even on a day to day basis there are small things work sticking around for. even in the midst of absolute agony. please try to consciously explore these reasons for living, even if all you want to do is lean into your reasons for dying. it can be something as simple as eating your favourite food again. no, it doesn’t compare to the amount of pain you’re in, but it is a good reminder that the pain isn’t all there is. please just focus on getting through the next hour and doing whatever it takes to achieve that, rather than trying to figure anything out. it’s alright to be all over the place, to be exhausted, it is not alright to harm yourself because of it. even if it takes you forever to learn that distinction, the whole point is to try. that is more than good enough. you are so strong and capable and good. you are supposed to be here and things would be irreparably different without you even if you genuinely can’t see that. you deserve to move forwards, you deserve to have a strong and healthy support system, you deserve to get to a place that feels less chaotic and more peaceful. i believe in you and i honestly think you can do it. speaking and working with the right professional over an extended period of time honestly gives you the tools to learn to manage these feelings and emotions in a way that stops them snowballing and getting to this point. being listened to, acknowledge and formulating a plan can make all the difference. as with any physical illness, treatment is necessary in order to heal but it is not some far off impossible thing to seek. it can be done, even just through a mental health organization in your area or by talking to a friend about what’s going on at first. any step in the right direction is something to be proud of. and sometimes that just looks like laying in bed surviving the day. i appreciate you sharing this w me and i know this must’ve been one of the worst days of your life, i really am so sorry. please, please consider calling or texting someone and getting some rest when you can. my inbox is open if you need a friend, i’m sending you so much love. please take care. x

https://www.opencounseling.com/suicide-hotlines

https://www.mentalhealth.org.nz/get-help/a-z/resource/50/suicide-coping-with-suicidal-thoughts

#tw suicide #tw self harm #anon

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smol-and-grumpy · 5 years ago

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Cross My Heart - CH.14

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x Reader; Chuck Shurley x Reader

Summary: After opening up a letter, the life as she knows it, changes forever. Her husband hires Dean Winchester to protect her but is Dean really who he said he was? And is her husband really worried about her safety?

Warnings: Flangst, NSFW

WC: 2130

SERIES MASTERLIST

Y/N stands there, her eyes are closed, tears running down her cheeks as she waits for a bullet to hit her and end her life. Her ears are ringing from the gunfire, she doesn't hear a thing.

She waits.

And waits.

She has heard people say that before someone dies, they see their whole life pass in front of their eyes in a string of images. She doesn’t see a damn thing. But if she would, she knows that she would have hated every second of it. She’s angry that Chuck turned against her. Angry that he wants her dead. She once trusted him, shared a bed with him, fucking married him. But did she love him?

No, she thinks, it was never love.

Love isn’t supposed to be like the thing she knew. Love is supposed to be like this. Like the things she feels when she looks at Dean. Like the butterflies that are flying around in her stomach when he calls out her name. Love should be like the flutters in her heart that she feels when he touches her. Love should make her feel comfortable. Love should give her strengths.

Suddenly she remembers Dean’s word. The way he said that the last thing you should see before you die is someone you love.

And she wants to see it.

She wants to see him.

So, she opens up her eyes.

Everything comes back in a rush, the sound around her, the noises, the cold of the night, the darkness.

Dean’s holding a gun to Ketch while that man is writhing on the ground, whimpering in pain.

Oh, thank fucking god.

“Baby,” Dean calls out for her. He looks at her but not quite because he needs to keep Ketch in check, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” She nods and walks towards Dean, “Yes.”

She’s crying again. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with her well of tears. It’s running non stop!

Dean reaches out his left arm, beckons her closer and she goes willingly. Immediately, he pulls her into a one armed embrace, while his other arm still points the gun to Ketch’s head. She buries her face into Dean’s chest and he kisses the crown of her head, whispering to her, “It’s okay, everything’s okay. I’m here, alright?”

Y/N nods.

“Look at you,” Ketch snorts, “Fucking the one you should protect. Not very professional, are you?”

Dean presses his lips into a thin line and doesn’t answer Ketch's question. Instead, he asks, “What was your plan?”

“Why? Will you let me go if I tell you?”

Dean doesn’t answer.

“I thought so. You might as well kill me now.”

She looks at Ketch, sees him holding his stomach and she flinches. He probably won’t make it anyway if they won’t call for an ambulance soon. And she’s not sure if she wants to because that man tried to kill them and then he would report to Chuck and Chuck would send someone else. It would never stop. They’d be on the run forever — or at least she would be, because it’s still not too late for Dean to drop out of this.

“Look, Ketch,” Dean says, his voice is exceptionally calm, “We can either let you bleed to death, which let me tell you, is probably not the best idea since there are wolves and bears around. As soon as they smell you, it’s going to be painful, ain’t gonna lie.” Dean pauses, probably for the dramatic effect, “Or you can tell us about your plans and I’ll put an end to your suffering. You won’t get out alive but I at least can give you that.”

“Fuck—” Ketch curses, and she knows that he’s weighing his options.

“I was to kill her, alright,” He has to pause to breathe against the pain, “A-and I was to make sure it looks like an accident. He wants to frame you so you would be the one who killed her.”

She buries her face deeper in Dean’s chest, wants to fucking disappear in there because she doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t even want to imagine it. Dean locked away for a crime he didn’t even commit. Strangely, she’s not worried about herself at all.

Dean kisses her again on the top of her head, holds her just a little tighter. He leaves his lips there, mumbles to her in a soft whisper, “I’m sorry about what I’m going to do. Don’t look, okay? Cover your ears, baby.”

And that, she does, she covers her ears, buries her face deeper into him and closes her eyes, to be extra sure.

Y/N still flinches when she hears the shot.

She goes into the cabin while Dean waits for Cas and his uncle Bobby outside. She doesn’t know what they’ll do with Ketch, and if she’s honest, she doesn’t really want to know either.

When Dean comes in, it’s already morning. He goes straight to the kitchen, boils some water, walks into the bedroom with a mug, sits next to her on the bed and places the mug on the bedside table.

“I’m closing the door, okay? I have to discuss things with Cas and Bobby. You need to rest. And when we’re finished, we’re going back to our cabin.”

“Can you stay? Just a moment?” She doesn’t know if she sounds needy but right now, all she wants is to feel him close.

“Of course,” Dean smirks at her but he gets up to close the door, she guesses that it’s in case the others are coming in.

He gets into bed with her, spoons her from behind and she can feel the warmth from his body. Dean buries his face into the back of her neck, his nose ice cold, and it makes her jump a little.

“Can I tell you a secret?” She asks him and she can feel him lift his head.

“Sure,”

“I aimed at Ketch’s head.”

Dean snorts out a laugh, “Then I can be fucking thankful that I’m still alive.”

She punches at his arm because he wouldn’t stop laughing.

After a while, he gets serious again, “I really need to get out there, will you be okay?”

“Uh-huh,”

Dean braces himself on his elbow, looking down at her, “Uh-huh?”

“Yeah,” She turns on her back, and looks into Dean’s eyes. There’s a plaster on his wound, dried blood around it. She reaches out, skims her finger around it and he flinches, “‘M sorry.”

He shakes his head, lowers down and kisses her. It grows so fast between them too. The kiss gets more intense, his fingers tighter around her, tongue sliding deeper, it’s getting harder to breathe.

“Uh, I—” Cas barges into the room.

She was so lost in the kiss that she didn’t even hear him.

Dean comes up for air, “Be right there,” He says but he doesn’t look at Cas, his gaze is still on hers, fingers skimming over her cheek. “Thought I’d lost you tonight.”

But she did see Cas. Sees a smirk on his face, the wink of his eyes before he closes the door.

She’s warm now, feels her cheeks blushing more than they already are. Dean leaves a last lingering kiss before he pushes himself up and out the door.

Back in their cabin, she gets into the bathroom, undresses and takes a warm shower. She feels numb, it feels so surreal and it’s a relief to take off the night, let the rain of the shower head wash it away. She wishes that it could take away all the pain as well. The pain of knowing that her husband wants her dead.

And then it hits her. It all comes crashing down around her when she realizes that she helped kill a man. And it doesn’t calm her heart to know that the man was out to kill her first.

Nonetheless, she fucking killed a man.

Y/N brings her arms around herself, leans against the tiled wall and she can’t help it. She starts sobbing. The life she had was all a lie, wasn’t it? When this is all over, she has to rebuild her life. She’ll have to start from scratch, she’ll have to—

—Dean’s arms around her brings her back to reality.

Dean.

She almost lost him.

How dare he tell her to shoot. How dare he fucking thought that she won’t kill him when she pulled that damn trigger.

Dean, oh god, she almost killed him and then what? She’d be all alone.

“Shhhhh,” He says, pulling her into his chest, his big arms wrapped around her, his hand stroking her head and her back.

“How dare you!” She yells into his chest, cries some more, her hands hitting the side of his body, and she scrambles at his back, dig into his flesh, “How fucking dare you, Dean! I almost lost you!”

“Hey, hey, baby,” Dean says, it’s loud but his voice is calm.

He peels himself from her, and she sees that he’s naked too. She tries not to get irritated, though, balls her fists and punches at his chest and he takes it, lets her take her anger and frustrations out on him, doesn’t even fucking budge.

“I could have killed you!” She’s wailing by now, her fists are on his chest, and she scrambles at it for purchase. “Dean, what would I do if I lost you!”

“Shhh,” He hushes her, pulls her close, locks his arms around her so tight that she can not move anymore. And he lets her cry on his chest, “Baby, we’re alive.”

When her sobbing dies down, she tilts her head up to see his eyes. They’re red rimmed either.

“I don’t feel alive.” She whispers, because it’s true. She feels numb, feels like the whole world is crashing down around her and she has nobody to hold on to except—

Dean lifts her up, pushes her against the tiles, crashing his mouths on hers in one swift move. It doesn’t leave her any other option than to claw at his back and drink in his kisses. It’s good. So good. It makes her forget about all the other things that’s going wrong in her life.

He’s kissing her, hard and rough, pours all the things he can not say into the kiss. Things she can’t hear but feel. She cries into the kiss, it’s impossible to stop the tears.

“Fuck me,” She breathes out, because she wants it. Wants him. Wants their bodies to be connected. Thinks, that it’s the only thing that’ll keep her alive right now.

Breaking the kiss, he looks at her, their noses touch and he searches for something in her eyes. She doesn’t know what it is but he finds it, his lips curve up a little and then she feels it. Feels him. His cock head breaches her opening and she moans out into Dean’s mouth. He pushes in further, sinking in inch by glorious inch. It stretches her so good. Dean goes deeper, and it hurts, the right kind of hurt, the one that reminds her that she’s alive and he is, too. One that reminds them both that they’re still here, together.

The warm water rains down on them, fog fills the bathroom, she feels everything so intensely.

Dean starts to fuck up into her, but he never stops kissing her. As if he doesn’t want her head to have room for other thoughts, “Baby, we’re okay, we have this. We have us, alright?” He whispers, soft, mumbling against the plush of her lips.

She nods with her eyes closed.

“I’m here. No matter what,” He whispers some more, sprays kisses all over her face. Her brows, her nose, her closed eyes, “And I mean it. I’m not only here for the fun part, I’m here no matter what,” He kisses her lips again, rests them there while he increases his speed. She’s so close from his cock alone. He just manages to hit all the right places inside of her, it drives her crazy.

“Baby, look at me,” Dean says, and she does, opening up her eyes to look into his green ones. He’s panting hard, their breathing mingle, he’s close himself, she can see. “I want you to know that, okay? I want you to trust me that I’m here. I got you, alright? I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N cries, and cranes her neck, surges her face forward to melt her mouth on his. She wants to believe him. Wants to believe that he’s staying. She knows he is. She does trust him. It’s just— she doesn’t know if there are more people like Ketch around. People who could shatter her trust in Dean’s words.

CH.15

#cross my heart #dean winchester #bodyguard!dean #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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rdnw · 4 years ago

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okaaaay

so after my vaccine Friday (may 7th) i had to go to the ER because i had a delayed allergic reaction the next day?? apparently? i felt so fine the day of the vaccine, i even did a 5k walk but i woke up the next morning and my face was kinda swollen and numb. two side effects they say to call 911 for but my ass was like the ER will not take me seriously because it wasn’t really visible to anyone but me and thats because i felt it more than saw it, but by 10pm the numbness had started to spread and the swelling became very fucking visible, so i called telehealth who told me they’d send me an ambulance because “that isn’t supposed to happen”

i’ve never really had bad allergies before so this was really surprising but they monitored me for a bit and gave me meds before they told me to keep an epipen on hand and to call 911 if it gets any worse in case it spreads and makes breathing difficult but i’m feeling better alhamdulillah, was hella tired for a while & on benedryl for like 6 days to help the swelling go down but its mostly gone now and not visible so i’m feeling very thankful. i’ve been drinking a lot water everyday because that’s supposed to regulate histamine levels and help with puffiness and i feel like it has

i feel like there’s really not a lot of info on the rarer side effects of the vaccine, like unless i was looking through tweets or random ass forums online it was hard to see anything similar and that freaked me out because it’s not like the er doctors really knew what to make of it either?? my doctor told me they couldn’t believe this was a reaction to pfizer hella surprised and i was like girl me too?? and any question i had couldn't be answered because they really had no answers to give me because it’s all so new

also side note: i feel like canada should do better with getting info out about adverse side effects, the US has VEARS which can be completed by the general public anytime online while here in Canada we have data from CAEFI which are only filled out by health professionals and the individuals dealing with the effects are told to ask for them to be filled out so i feel like not a lot of info is being monitored the way it could be

anyway..putting this here not to be fearmongering but to help alleviate fears in case anyone deals with this like i did and is freaking out the way i did. i still recommended listening to whatever that vaccine pamphlet says and going to the ER in case swelling does hit critical areas though to be safe which is probably why it’s placed under a very scary disclaimer in canada.

my experience: the numbness went away a little under 72 hours in and i saw the swelling reduce every single day since i started taking benedryl regularly. at its worst my tongue wasn’t super numb but tingling a lot but that also went away when the numbness did. i saw some ppl get prescribed prednisone to help swelling but that wasn’t me so can’t speak on that. i also saw that most ppl who dealt with facial swelling had it around the eyes but mine was more around my cheeks and jaw area. i recommended talking to your doctors about what to do for your 2nd dose if you have a similar reaction because there seems to be a bunch of mixed reactions with some doctors against it or for it when ppl have these reactions. i’m going to see an allergy specialist to see whats up with me & talk to my doctor soon about future steps. anyway stay safe, cautious, & healthy and hopefully everyone gets vaccinated without feeling any of this or any other side effects.

#not seeing much about this online had me stressssssedd so here's to anyone freaking out looking for any info

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siteeco15 · 4 years ago

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People put invest in it so they can meet someone like them. Nowadays people have much higher expectations. The birth of mobile phones, social media, tweeting texting and chatting online have changed human nature. People cancel by text now. And that culture has spread into the dating world — people want what they want. The set-up is distinctly old-fashioned, as Mairead explains: I had a nice time.

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Not mind-blowing, not terrible, just quite normal. But it was still very different to going on a date with a random bloke I met in a bar, or someone on Tinder. Both evenings ended at a civilised hour with a peck on the cheek — after which, Jo calls me with feedback — which is excruciating. As it happens, although I had a lovely time with both men, I felt pretty ambivalent about seeing them again, and told Jo as such.

Black Women on POF (Plenty of Fish) Part 5 Birmingham

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normal-with-adhd-is-a-joke · 4 years ago

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Suicidal Etiquette: What’s Abuse and What’s Not?

So I’ve seen a couple posts talking about how “using your suicidal tendencies to get things you want is abusive” and that is correct. However, I felt the need to clarify some things because being suicidal can make you quite paranoid about hurting others.

Things that are abusive:

- Saying “if you leave me I’ll kill myself!” in any relationship. The includes friendships, QPPs, romantic relationships, etc.

- Telling your child that you are going to kill yourself for any reason, or killing yourself in a location where your child is likely to find you. No one under the age of 25 is equipped to deal with their parent’s suicidal thoughts, and even people older than that will find it extremely difficult and traumatic. Your child is not responsible for your suicidal thoughts, no matter how much they might have “disappointed” you.

- Saying “if you do/don’t do this I’ll kill myself”. The only exception to this is if you are asking for mental help and telling someone that without it you will die. Otherwise this is highly manipulative.

Grey areas:

- Asking a friend to help you through suicidal thoughts. It’s good etiquette to make sure that someone is in an ok place mentally before you ask them for help like this. If someone is going through a major depressive episode, an illness, the death of a loved one, or other traumatic event, it might be best to seek professional help rather than asking them for help. They might already have too much on their plate, as much as they want to help you.

- Asking someone to physically restrain you to keep you from killing yourself. This can be incredibly traumatic for the other person, so this should only happen if it’s your only option.

- Asking someone to sit with you through the night. Depending on the person, they might not be physically capable of staying up for an entire night.

- Blaming your suicidal thoughts on others. If you are being severely bullied or abused, it is fair to blame your suicidal thoughts on your bully/abuser. Otherwise, blaming your suicidal thoughts on someone can leave them mentally scarred and lead them to kill themselves.

Things that are not abusive:

- Using your suicidal thoughts to get better medical care. It’s absolutely ok and important to tell your doctor if you are having suicidal thoughts, especially if your mental illness isn’t being take seriously.

- Telling your parents that you are suicidal and need to be taken to a doctor/mental hospital. Don’t ever let your parents shame you for asking for help. If they refuse to take you and you are in crisis, you can call an ambulance to take you. I’m not sure of the exact protocol in the US, but I believe they’ll also send a police officer in many cases, so if that poses a danger to your family it might be better to contact a suicide hotline instead.

- Asking for prayer, talking to a pastor, or engaging in other spiritual practices to help ease suicidal thoughts. Part of the goal of religion is to better your life. Even if suicide is considered a sin/wrongdoing in your religion, you’re still allowed to pray and ask for guidance. The goal of suicide being classified as wrong is to keep people from killing themselves, not keep them from seeking help.

Since all this was pretty heavy, here’s a picture of my ESA-in-training, Piggy, coming to cuddle me when I started writing this post because posting about my suicidal thoughts makes me extremely anxious and she wanted to help:

If I missed anything, or if there’s anything you’d like me to change, please let me know. These are just the scenarios I came up with that I’ve been unsure of in the past.

#suicidal thoughts #abuse #mental illness #mental health

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kpopbopz · 6 years ago

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min yoongi | careful what you wish for (angst trigger warning)

!!!trigger/angst warning: attempted suicide and harsh language.

disclaimer: this is a work of FICTION; purely meant for entertainment, all texts are fake and does not reflect the personality of min yoongi or any bts member.

also, if you or someone you love is feeling suicidal or in an abusive relationship, please seek help; I don’t mind talking and giving some advice but understand that I am not always available or a professional. ♥

♡.

You froze in place as you stared down at what you’ve done completely baffled with your suddenly increased capability of clumsiness. You watched as Yoongi’s keyboard malfunctioned and LED lights underneath the keys faded out. You had accidentally spilled a bottle of water all over it and you knew that once Yoongi found out, he would be beyond furious. Namjoon had been a witness to the destruction, surprised he hadn’t caused it himself, but at the same time knowing better not to go near Yoongi’s area of work, and definitely not to bring food or drinks—especially drinks—into the studio in the first place.

“Oh, no. Yoongi will kill me! Namjoon—what am I going to do?” you questioned as the instant feeling of panic was beginning to settle. Quickly you moved to get the napkins from the bag you brought, pressing feverishly down on the keyboard hoping it would revive back to life.

“Don’t worry about it Y/n,” Namjoon interrupted your thoughts, “I’m sure he’ll understand that your intentions were good.” He shrugged it off, still knowing that Yoongi was going to react with badly no matter how this looked. “Just buy him a new one and he should be fine, at least it was you of all people, he’ll have to show some mercy.”

“Okay,” you nodded, still with a distraught look on your face, trying to calculate how much money it would cost and how fast the same version of the keyboard could possibly be delivered to you. “I’ll make it up to him, I swear. Just tell him I’m sorry and that I’ll see him later, and to eat.” With that you left the studio in a hurry; you had to get home to finish up a project assignment for class and to now order a new keyboard for your boyfriend.

It wasn’t until about an hour later while you were just reading up on your research when your phone buzzed; suspecting that it was Yoongi, you read it immediately...

You bit down on your bottom lip, quickly responding in order to try to not escalate the situation more than what it needed to. The only thing you wanted was to help your boyfriend, you wanted him to stay healthy considering the long days and nights he was working in the studio; all you wanted was to help.

Holding your breath, you could only hope that he would accept your apology. He couldn’t be that mad at you for wanting him to eat. Right?

Another buzz.

You couldn’t help but feel the sharp pain in your chest at his words. You annoyed him? He knew that you were sensitive and you tried to reason with him. Yoongi was supposed to be your sweet and kind boyfriend, he was just saying this because he was angry, that’s all, right?

Sometimes he needed to be reminded where to stop before he crossed the line, so you responded once again.

You stared at your phone, watching as the bubbles popped up while he was typing. The anxiety creeping in your chest was almost unbearable, hoping that he would understand how sorry you were.

His next message appeared.

Now he was really hitting below the belt. No feelings of anger surfaced for you, just guilt and sadness. He knew that you had a hard time with your confidence and often times would fall into states of depression because of it. This was mainly because a lot of his fans would deteriorate your character and looks on social media. Constantly berating you with insults and telling you just how much you didn’t deserve Yoongi, that you were an ugly, gold-digging lowlife that should just disappear.

Usually, he would be the one that would remind you that they were wrong and you were more than that, but now it was as if all of that sweet talk was out the door. He had no remorse for what he was saying and everything he mentioned felt like it was his way of being spiteful.

You responded, wishing that he would just stop already. You didn’t want to make this anything more than what it already has become.

By this point, he didn’t realize that tears were streaming down your cheeks. Yoongi was throwing all your insecurities right back in your face as if you wanted to be this way. You couldn’t help the fact that you didn’t feel worth his time sometimes, and you felt bad every time you asked for his help. There was no way for you to know that it was bothersome for him because he always led on that he would build you up no matter what.

After your last response, you hoped that this would be the end of the discussion. It wasn’t like he wasn’t going to get a new keyboard from you, so it was completely unnecessary and rather painful that he was lashing out at you without any type of remorse.

The text messages to appear next shattered you into pieces.

I wish you would just disappear.

His words absolutely destroyed you, turning you into a bawling mess as you sat on the edge of your bed. Water stains hit your paperwork as you reread his last few messages over and over again, feeling the undeniable pain in your chest. He broke you. Of all the people in the world, Yoongi telling you to disappear was the final straw.

You couldn’t help but feel like you were a burden, on him and everyone else that constantly reminded you, no matter how hard you tried to escape. But hearing it from Yoongi, your sugar bear was proof enough that it was all true.

Barely being able to see through your tear-blurred vision, you typed your final response, apologizing and finally deciding to give him what he wanted.

For you to disappear.

With that being said, you turned off your phone, letting it fall down to your feet. The only thing going through your head was that he didn’t want you anymore. He couldn’t stand dealing with you and all the emotional baggage he claimed that you brought to this relationship. If he thought that you were that irritating and should just disappear then what was stopping you?

With tear stained cheeks, red eyes, blurred vision, and a broken demeanor, you got whatever strength you had left over to get up and go to the bathroom, searching for the strongest pills you could find.

You wouldn’t be a problem anymore, you would just disappear...

Having already closed the texts after he let out his frustrations on you, Yoongi didn’t see your very last few words to him just yet.

“I can’t believe she would even come in here. She knew that I wasn’t here. God, Y/n knew that I was taking a nap and didn’t need her help,” Yoongi was non-stop ranting to Namjoon, oblivious to just the amount of damage he had caused you because of his blinding rage. “She’s so damn annoying; how am I supposed to get my work done now?!”

“You should relax Yoongi. When she came in here earlier, she really was just checking up on you,” he shrugged it off, handing Suga a notebook and pen, “Besides, you know how clumsy I can get myself, show her some mercy. Use this anger in a positive way and just write down your lyrics the old fashioned way while she gets you a new keyboard. Lashing out on her isn’t the way to go and you know it.”

He did know that, and he was starting to feel terrible about what he said. Even though you frustrated him sometimes, he knew that your intentions were good and taking it out on you the way he did, was indeed going too far.

Yoongi took a few calming breaths before he was ready to finally apologize and hash it out, given his younger’s wise words. Lifting his phone, he was planning to text you to treat you to dinner tonight, but what he didn’t expect was to open your texts, seeing that you took him seriously in his fit of rage.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Yoongi had an alarm ringing in his head and began to rapidly type on his phone, panic beginning to settle in his chest.

It had finally started sinking in what he’s done. He slowly stood, phone in his shaky hands, waiting impatiently for you to respond.

“What’s going on?” Namjoon would speak up.

“C’mon Y/n,” Yoongi would mumble under his breath, eyes glued to his phone screen, searching for any type of sign that you were getting his texts, “Please, oh my god.” His fingers would rapidly keep typing, needing to know that you were okay.

*recommended song while reading: when the party’s over by billie eilish from this point on.*

He waited another moment, re-reading his previous texts and seeing how cruel he was to you and it brought tears to his eyes. Yoongi dialed your number, listening to the endless rings before your voicemail came through. He tried again and again, each ring sending him into a further panic.

“Joon, call 911, now! Send the ambulance to Y/n’s apartment,” his words were practically slurred because of him speaking so fast, however, Joon still managed to immediately do what he was told. “Fuck Y/n, pick up your damn phone!” Yoongi visibly was shaking, he could barely even text you with his hands trembling the way they were in absolute fear of what you could’ve done to yourself because of his carelessness.

“They’re on their way over there now,” Namjoon tore him away from his distressed state for a moment. “Do you need me to co—,” he was cut off once his hyung quickly dispersed from the studio, leaving everything behind except for his keys and phone which was still glued to his hand, quickly sending you another few texts just before getting in the car and heading toward your place himself, needing to know that you were okay.

On his way there, it would be his fifteenth time calling your phone to no avail. Somehow he managed to get there before the ambulance did. Yoongi burst into your place, screaming out for you. In his panic, he searched everywhere he could think of, seeing that your room was left empty. It wasn’t until he searched most of the apartment that he realized the only place left to look was the bathroom which was closed. Upon turning the knob, he found out that it’s locked.

“Y/n?! Y/n, baby, open the door,” he spoke to you through the door, his voice nearly cracking. Upon receiving no answer, he started to bang on the wooden surface standing between both of you. “Open the door! Y/N! Babygirl please I’m sorry, please, open the door, oh god—,” his voice would begin to crack even more than it was already, the worst possible scenarios crossing his mind. Feeling the rush of adrenaline pulse through him at the thought of your limp body, he kicked the door in, finding his absolute nightmare come true.

He fell down onto his knees, instantly cradling your unconscious body, crying above you as he held on tight to you.

“No, no, p-lease, wake u-up, please, y/n,” he would whimper, not paying attention to the distorted sound of EMTs rushing into the apartment. “Baby no, WAKE UP! Please? Please, wake up for me. I’m so so sorry.”

Yoongi was then forcefully dragged away from you, his face red and being stained with tears as he watched them check over your limp body, not knowing if he would ever get you back, not knowing if he could ever apologize and hold you again in his arms, and kiss you, and tell you how much you meant to him, and how much he didn’t mean it.

He didn’t mean it when he said to disappear, and now seeing that he broke you to the point where you would actually want to leave him like this, broke him too.

“Please y/n..”

part two.

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caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma · 5 years ago

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Peripheral, Part 1

Pairings: OT7 x reader; Hoseok x reader; Yoongi x reader

Series Summary: An unfortunate accident leaves Kim Namjoon with amnesia, and Big Hit, BTS, ARMY, and the entire world is desperate to help him regain his memories and knowledge. Fortunately, a new genetics company has successfully created a system to alter our brains into human databases which can help someone regain knowledge and memories through a simple input/output exchange. Can this new invention give us back our beloved leader?

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Idol AU

Warnings: Accidental fall down a flight of stairs, mild coma, amnesia, cursing

Word Count: 6K+

Everyone knew he was clumsy, but no one ever anticipated that Namjoon would end up seriously injured. He’d had a few missed steps here and a stumble or two there, but he always managed to pull through with maybe a few bruises, scrapes, or a minor injury or two.

Unfortunately, his luck couldn’t hold out forever. Namjoon was leading the others out of the stadium after yet another successful concert, but he failed to see the empty basement stairwell he was unknowingly leaning towards. The overhead light that usually illuminated the stairwell had yet to be replaced and the entire section sat in darkness, the inner door left open while maintenance searched for replacement bulbs.

The guys were racing down the hall, joking and unwinding from the adrenaline still coursing through their veins. Namjoon laughed heartily at something Jin was saying behind him, and as he turned to utter his snarky reply, he leaned too far into the wall and lost his balance. To his horror, he realized too late that there was not a wall to hold on to, just empty space.

Realization dawned slowly on Jin’s face as Namjoon slipped just beyond his grasp and tumbled heavily down the stairs. It all happened within a few seconds, but each member experienced a slow, drawn-out shock as Namjoon fell, hitting his head more than once and crumpling into an uncomfortable pile at the bottom of the stairs.

Everyone clambered down the narrow stairwell, using their phones to illuminate the space. They found their leader, unconscious, but breathing, the only sound they cared to hear over Yoongi’s frantic voice calling for help. Jungkook climbed over the others to Namjoon’s other side. He kneeled behind Namjoon’s head and braced his neck protectively as tears poured from his eyes. Jimin and Taehyung carefully arranged Namjoon’s twisted limbs, taking special care to avoid disturbing them further. There didn’t seem to be any breaks or blood that they could see, but none of them were medical professionals, so they couldn’t say for sure.

Hoseok was doing his best to console the frantically sobbing Jin, but the task was proving to be beyond his skills and strength.

All of them were distraught at this tragic turn of events, but Jin had been in the front row as Namjoon disappeared from his sight down the stairwell. He had reached out for him and missed. He had seen Namjoon’s face before the darkness swallowed him whole. He had failed his best friend and leader.

Emergency personnel quickly filed in, but it took several security guards and handlers to pull the boys away from Namjoon’s side. Jungkook alone needed five people and a heartfelt talk from Yoongi to finally relent and release his hold on Namjoon.

They all watched as Namjoon was meticulously lifted and strapped onto a stretcher, neck brace attached, and then carried up the stairwell and out the side entrance of the stadium to the waiting ambulance. He was still breathing, but he remained painfully unconscious.

Jimin tearfully pleaded with their handlers to take them to the hospital with Namjoon. The others joined his pleas in varying degrees of persuasion, and after they agreed to eat something on the way, the handlers were allowed to load them into a van and drive them to the hospital.

<~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>

A swirling sensation crept through Namjoon’s body.

“What is this odd feeling?” He wondered. “It feels so strange.”

The swirling coalesced into a dull throb and then merged into a full-blown ache throughout his entire body.

“What the hell?” He groaned silently. “What happened to me?”

Faint voices trickled in from nearby and he did his best to focus on them despite the blinding pain.

“It’s been three days, doctor. Isn’t there anything else we can do for him?”

The voice was gruff but firm. Namjoon couldn’t place it. He felt like he should know that voice. Why couldn’t he remember the person’s name?

“Mr. Min, I apologize, but I’ve already explained to your managers, producers, and everyone else at the company that there is nothing else we can do at this time. We’ve treated his other injuries, and he’s healing well, but his head injury cannot be properly assessed until he regains consciousness. There was considerable swelling, but it seems to be dissipating slowly. We just have to be patient and wait for Mr. Kim to wake up. Until then, there isn’t anything to be done.”

“Mr. Kim?” Namjoon crinkled his forehead. “That’s my name. Are they talking about me?”

A soft tinkling voice piped up in the uncomfortable silence which followed. Namjoon frowned when it also seemed familiar; he just couldn’t understand why or how.

“Can we please see him, doctor? Maybe sit down and talk to him?”

“Of course, Mr. Park. You and the rest of the members are welcome to sit with him while you’re here. We’ve added more chairs to his suite so that you can all be more comfortable.”

A round of appreciative “thank you”s broke out and the doctor took his leave. Namjoon braced himself as the other voices pushed through the door and entered his room.

A sharp hiss and a quiet sob silenced the group.

“Hyung, I hate seeing him like this.”

“I know, Jungkookie, but Joon-ah needs us. We have to be here and let him know what’s waiting for him when he wakes up.”

“When do you think he’ll wake up, Jin-hyung?”

“How should I know, Tae? I’m not a doctor.”

“Dude, you need to stop beating yourself up over this. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I was right there, Yoongi. I could’ve saved him. But I wasn’t fast enough.”

“We were all there, hyung. There was nothing we could do. It all just happened so fast.”

Slender fingers lifted Namjoon’s hand and pulled it into a gentle hold. A thumb traced a delicate path across Namjoon’s knuckles.

For a few seconds, the only sound in the room was steady breathing, the beep of the medical equipment, and several sniffles. Namjoon debated on whether he should reveal his newly gained consciousness.

Who were these guys? Why were they here? Why was this person holding his hand? They seemed to know him, but he couldn’t remember any of them. They talked about him as though they all shared some type of special connection or relationship. They couldn’t be brothers; he only had his sister. Why wasn’t she here?

“Yoongi, what did Namjoon’s family say?”

“They’re going to stay nearby and wait a little longer. We’re all hoping he’ll wake up soon. I’m sending them all updates as we get them.”

“Speaking of updates, have you guys seen the social media posts the past few days? ARMY is freaking out over this.”

“I saw a few of them. Once I started seeing shrines, I couldn’t look anymore.”

Collective sighs danced around the room. A heavy air settled, and Namjoon almost shuddered at the discomfort.

“Do you think he can hear us?”

The hand holding Namjoon’s twitched into a torturous grip.

“Of course he can hear us, Tae! Why would you even say something like that?”

Without meaning to give himself away, Namjoon attempted to jerk his hand away from his assailant, only to elicit gasps and shouts from everyone.

Namjoon’s eyelids abruptly fluttered open and he winced at the bright lights.

“Namjoon-ah!”

Jimin and Taehyung simultaneously rushed to the door to call in the doctor or nurse. Jungkook rushed to the other side of the bed, tears running down his face on cue. Jin remained frozen at the foot of the bed, fingers curling tightly around the footboard. Yoongi placed his hands on Jungkook’s shoulders and rubbed them softly.

Namjoon blinked a few times and let his eyes adjust to the harsh light. He was in a hospital bed and there were various wires connected to his body. The man holding his hand in a vice grip gaped at him with shining eyes and a brilliant smile. Namjoon winced as he tried to place his face or his name, but all he got back from his brain was a dull ache resonating from his temples.

“Could you please let go of my hand? That really hurts.” Namjoon pleaded.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Hoseok hastily replied while releasing his hold. “I’m just so excited to see you awake. It’s been a long three days, Namjoon-ah.”

“How are you feeling, Namjoon-ah?” Yoongi pressed. “Are you in any pain?”

Namjoon stared blankly at the men in front of him. His eyes flitted from one to the other and his eyebrows sank in confusion.

“Ummm...my head kind of hurts and I feel really sore,” Namjoon said. “But other than that, I think I’m ok.”

Jin released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“Joon-ah...we were so worried about you.” Jin sighed.

Namjoon tilted his head slightly.

“You were? Why?” He queried. “Are you guys my nurses?”

Jungkook laughed in a burst, but it trailed off when he realized two things: 1) no one else was laughing and 2) his hyungs looked nervous and serious.

Yoongi took a shaky deep breath and looked at Jin and Hoseok. They both looked as worried as he did.

“You really think we’re your nurses?” Hoseok asked in disbelief. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or serious.”

Jin’s frustration bubbled over and his hold on the headboard tightened.

“This is no time for jokes, Namjoon!” Jin spat. “The six of us have been here every day waiting for you to come back to us. We’ve been taking care of your family and we tried our best to keep ARMY and the rest of the world calm. So please stop looking at us like we’re strangers!”

“But…” Namjoon began apologetically. “You are strangers. I don’t know any of you.”

At that moment, the medical team rushed into the room and the members were forced to leave the room while Namjoon was examined. As they wheeled him out of the room for more tests, the six men reached for one another with trembling hands.

What had happened to their Namjoon? <~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>

Big Hit Studios

“Boys, we have a problem.” Bang PD remarked coolly. “Namjoon is going to be released from the hospital at the end of next week.”

“That’s good news, isn’t it?” Jimin piped up while glancing at his brothers. They all still looked pretty grim.

Bang PD sighed and shook his head slightly.

“Jimin, it would be great news,” he replied. “But unfortunately, Namjoon’s memory appears to be a bit...fuzzy.”

“How fuzzy?” Yoongi grumbled.

“He doesn’t remember anything after he joined Big Hit. He thinks he’s still a trainee. He knows who I am, but he doesn’t remember any of you.”

The shock washed over them as cold as a bucket of ice water. Namjoon really didn’t know who they were?!

“His family is with him now and they are trying to help him piece everything together, but it’s proving to be more difficult than any of us can manage.” Bang PD continued. “Physically, Namjoon is healthy. He’s still recovering from a few minor injuries, but those will heal in a few weeks. As it now stands, it’s unclear how long it will take to heal his head injury, if at all.”

“At all” Jin gasped. “What do you mean ‘at all’?”

“There isn’t currently a medical procedure to cure brain injuries, especially when it comes to amnesia.” Bang PD stated. “However, genetic engineering may have another option for us.”

“Are we going to clone Namjoon-hyung?” Taehyung asked while handing Jimin and Jungkook more tissues.

“What kind of stupid question is that, Taehyung?!” Jin sputtered angrily.

“Hyung!” Yoongi admonished sharply. “That’s enough.”

Taehyung sank into his chair a little while Jin crossed his arms angrily. The eldest had been antagonistic and short-tempered ever since Namjoon’s accident. Everyone but Yoongi seemed to stay out of his way out of respect.

The room settled, albeit uncomfortably, and Bang PD continued with his explanation.

“There is a company in Japan that is making tremendous strides in genetic engineering. In fact, they may have something that can help Namjoon, and perhaps all of you as well.” He stated. “I’ve hired one of their employees as an information technology expert. She’s been genetically altered to store and transmit information to and from people. With her assistance, we may be able to restore Namjoon without any complicated surgery or procedures and in less time than therapy would take.”

At this, Bang PD pressed the intercom button on the conference table. “Send her in, please.”

Before the boys could respond, the double doors opened and a striking woman was escorted into the room. Her outfit was simple but flattering, and her hair fell in soft waves around her face. She briefly glanced at everyone in the room and felt the anxiety and animosity wash over her. She was ushered into the seat next to Bang PD, and once she sat, she kept her eyes on him.

“Boys, this is Y/N. She’s here to fix our problems.” <~~~~~~~~~~~~~>

The wood grain of the conference table was interesting, to say the least. Y/N focused on the intricate latticework connecting the delicate fibers of the natural wood. The varnish illuminated the brighter shades and deepened the darker ones. All in all, it was a nice table.

“Nice” wasn’t the exact word Y/N would choose to describe the reception she was receiving from the members around the table. She hadn’t properly looked any of them in the eye, and with the anger and confusion being tossed around, she wasn’t feeling particularly comfortable about meeting their angry stares just yet. It would be better for everyone if they began their relationship on more amicable terms.

“Boys!” Bang PD bellowed, completely out of character. “This is not open to discussion or debate. Y/N is our best bet to get Namjoon back, and she is going to be living in the dorms with all of you until further notice. A room has already been prepared for her, and her things are being moved into that room as we speak.”

“Do we need to share rooms again?” Jimin asked hopefully.

“Well, yes, for the time being, one of you will need to share a room with Jimin.” Bang PD answered. “I would like to leave Namjoon in his own room for the time being. If things with Y/N work out like they should, we’ll revisit the rooming arrangements. Before you even ask, I don’t care who shares a room with him. You all can decide that amongst yourselves.”

Jimin latched onto Taehyung’s arm joyfully.

“Want to be my roomie, soulmate?” Jimin cooed.

Tae rolled his eyes playfully and pouted.

“Why do I have to share a room with you?” He groaned. “Why can’t someone else share?”

“Because the 95s should always stay together.” Yoongi offered gruffly.

Bang PD stood up and placed his hand on Y/N’s shoulder. She looked up at him and smiled slightly.

“Good. I’m glad that’s decided.” He stated. “You should all escort Y/N to the dorm so she can get settled in. You’ve all been emailed an instructional packet explaining Y/N’s duties and responsibilities while she’s here with us. Please read through it and if you have any questions, ask her. I’m sure she can explain it better than I can. I expect you all to treat her with the utmost respect and help her with whatever she needs.”

At that, he smirked slightly and glanced at Y/N, who smirked in return, but the boys failed to notice the strange exchange between them.

Bang PD took his leave of the six boys and their curious new female roommate. <~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~> The ride back to the dorms was awkwardly quiet. Yoongi sat in the front on his phone with his headphones in, and Jin sat in the back and stared glumly out the window of the van. The maknae line was making plans to move Jimin into Tae’s room. Hoseok sat next to Y/N and tried his best to start a conversation.

“So, are you originally from Japan?” He began. “You don’t look Japanese, that’s why I ask.”

“I’m not. I’m actually American, but I went to college in Japan. I got a job offer from this company before I graduated, so I’ve been there ever since.” Y/N replied.

“Wow, you must be really smart then, huh?” Hoseok continued. “Just like Namjoon-ah.”

Hoseok’s smile reached its zenith and then slowly crumbled as Namjoon’s name left his lips. Y/N chanced a glance at Hoseok and saw the pain glistening in his eyes. She instinctively reached over and placed her hand over his.

“I’m sorry about your friend, Hoseok-ssi.” Y/N said softly.

“Hobi,” he smiled. “You can call me Hobi.”

“Hobi,” Y/N responded with a small smile pulling at her lips. “I promise I’m going to do everything I can to help him.”

Hobi entwined his fingers with Y/N’s and sighed deeply. His eyes cleared and his smile grew a little brighter.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Hobi whispered shakily. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

He lifted his eyes to meet hers, for the first time today, she maintained his gaze. Hobi realized how vibrant her eyes were and the subtle blush on her cheeks. He traced his eyes down to her lips, which were still pulled into a small smile. He focused on the rosy hue of her lips, and she bit her lip slightly. Hobi licked his own lips without thinking, and her sharp inhale caught his attention, but before he could say anything, the van stopped in front of the dorms.

“We’re here!” Jungkook announced gleefully. He was already pounding down the hallway with Jimin and Tae in tow. They were in full “moving mode.”

Yoongi slid out of the van, still looking at his phone and still wearing his headphones. Whatever he was looking at was apparently very interesting. He said nothing as he headed inside.

Jin pushed his way out of the van and stomped inside, obviously not in the mood to welcome Y/N to her new home.

Hobi crawled out and held out his hand to Y/N to help her out of the van. He kept their hands clasped as he guided her inside the dorms.

“I’m sorry if the guys are being rude.” Hobi apologized. “We are all dealing with this differently. Don’t take it personally.”

“I understand,” Y/N responded. “It will take some time for all of us to get used to this arrangement. I’m sure it will be easier once I’m able to get started.”

They rounded a corner and stopped at the door at the end of the hallway.

“Well, you have almost two weeks to get ready for that,” Hobi chirped. “I’m sure we will all feel better once Namjoon is back here with us.”

Y/N smiled, but there was also a hint of another smirk tugging at her lips.

“A lot can happen in two weeks.” Y/N said. “I still have a lot of prep work to complete before I meet with Namjoon.”

A loud crash erupted from down the hall, and they both turned to see Jimin and Jungkook tangled together with bags and boxes scattered around them.

“I told you to let me go in first, Kookie!” Jimin screamed.

“And I told you that I had to get in there first because I was carrying more weight than you!” Jungkook retorted angrily.

They began pushing at each other and Hobi could already see the situation escalating quickly.

“Sorry to leave you in such a rush, Y/N,” said Hobi while backing away toward the ruckus. “I need to get these idiots under control before they break something or each other. Make yourself at home, and I’ll come to get you when it’s time for dinner.”

Y/N nodded and took one last look at the hilarious pile of ridiculousness. Taehyung stepped out of the room and helped Hobi separate the two while picking up the mess in the hall.

She entered her room and saw that most of her belongings had been unpacked and set up in her room. Her sheets were on the bed, her vanity table was set up in the corner, and her clothes and shoes were in the closet. The room already had a homey, moved in feel to it.

She sat on the bed and laid back against the pillows. She still needed to meet with the boys and explain the parameters of Namjoon’s treatment. She hoped they’d taken some time to read through that packet Bang PD sent them. It would make the next conversation much less awkward for all of them.

<~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>

Yoongi took out his headphones and placed his phone face down on the coffee table. The initial shock was just wearing off and a fresh wave of smugness settled onto his face as he saw Y/N strut into the living room.

She no longer appeared aloof but instead radiated an air of confidence and comfort in her black yoga pants and gauzy button-down floral shirt. Yoongi eagerly watched as she took up residence on the big armchair across from him with one leg crossed over the other. She looked refreshed and ready to take on the world, preferably the world within the walls of the dormitory. Yoongi watched as her eyes scanned the room for the other members and finally landed on him.

“Y/N, I hope you had time to rest up.” Yoongi taunted. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”

Y/N eyed him in confusion and soon picked up on his subtle innuendo. Before she could toss back a clever remark, he held up his hands in submission.

“Relax,” he continued. “I’m not trying to initiate anything yet, I’m just curious about how this is going to play out. These guys may look like adults, but they’re no better than teenagers sometimes.”

With one eyebrow raised, Y/N assessed Yoongi’s demeanor. He appeared resolute and genuinely interested in the impending treatment, but there was no perversion or malice lurking in his eyes. If he was harboring any anxiety, it was well hidden behind one hell of a poker face.

Interesting. He’s a sneaky one.

“So I guess you read the packet, then?” Y/N asked. “Any comments, questions, suggestions?”

Yoongi lowered his gaze briefly and chuckled. When he looked back at Y/N, it was obvious he was enjoying this. He shrugged nonchalantly and pursed his lips.

“I mean, I don’t want to tell you how to do your job or anything…” Yoongi muttered.

“But?” Y/N countered.

“But,” Yoongi grinned. “I ask that I get put at the bottom of your list. I need some time to wrap my head around this little arrangement. Also, I’d like to watch you in action so I get the full experience. I’m not one to jump into anything lightly, so I’d like to get to know you better before we start anything.”

“Fair enough,” Y/N replied. “I appreciate your honesty.”

Yoongi’s smile widened, clearly putting his gums on display. Y/N couldn’t help but return it with a smile of her own.

“I’ll remind you of that later.” Yoongi jested, wagging a finger at her. “You may not always feel that way.”

Before Y/N could respond, the other boys joined them in the living room, and Y/N straightened up to address them more formally, knowing this conversation might be awkward, especially if they hadn’t read the instructional packet.

They were all looking at her with anticipation, except for Jin who remained in his chair to stare out the window with glazed eyes and a seemingly permanent pout.

Sighing at his noncompliance, Y/N turned to others and smiled.

I hope they’re ready for this.

“So, I’m guessing everyone already read their informational packet,” she began. “It will help things run more smoothly.”

Y/N chanced a look at Yoongi, and he leaned back in his seat, one leg over the other, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek, eyes sparkling. He knew none of the others had bothered to read. This was going to be fun to watch.

“Uh, noona,” Jungkook pouted. “I haven’t had time to read because I was helping these two idiots move in together.”

“And we were moving our stuff since you took Jimin’s room,” prompted Tae. “So, we didn’t have time to do our homework either.”

“We had homework?” Hobi interrupted. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?!”

Jimin giggled airily at Hobi’s distress. Yoongi grinned and looked over at the others. They had no idea what was in store for them.

“Bang PD-nim sent us that packet to read about Namjoon’s rehabilitation treatments,” Yoongi stated, waving his phone in the air. “We have to help Y/N prepare for Namjoon’s treatments.”

“Oh!” Jimin gasped. “Well, now I feel bad for not reading it. Whatever you need, noona, we can help you with it.”

Y/N scooted to the front of the armchair and leaned one elbow on her crossed knees. Yoongi was entranced at her ability to straddle the line between provocative and professional. He licked his lips and settled his gaze at the hint of cleavage peeking at the top of her blouse. He was sure the others had also noticed, but they wouldn’t dare give themselves away.

“Since you didn’t read the packet, I’ll have to brief you on the procedure.” Y/N stated. “As you know, I’m an information technology expert, but I also have experience in genetic engineering. My team developed a procedure to alter a part of the brain to act as an anatomical digital database. Essentially, we created an additional hard drive space within the brain that is able to transmit and receive information between other organic organisms.”

“Noona, you made a robot?” Tae blurted out. The look of horror on his face was amusing and it elicited giggles from the other boys.

“No, Taehyung-ssi,” Y/N assured him. “We didn’t make a robot, but we did find a way to communicate thoughts and feelings from one person to another by linking brains together through electric pulsations.”

Jimin raised his hand, and Y/N had to hold back a giggle of her own.

Oh, he’s adorable.

“Yes, Jimin-ssi,” Y/N asked sweetly. “Do you have a question?”

He lowered his hand and blushed slightly. The sweet tone of her voice made him shiver slightly.

“Ummm...well....” Jimin said nervously. “Are you going to be electrocuting us?”

The others darted their eyes back to Y/N with a hint of fear lurking behind their lashes. They did not want to be electrocuted.

“No, sweetie.” Y/N assured him. “No electrocution. However, there will be other things that are not exactly traditional methods of rehabilitation.”

“Like what?” Hoseok wondered aloud.

“I’m glad you asked Hobi.” Y/N declared while standing up. “I can actually demonstrate the method for you here and it will make everything easier for all of us.”

At that, Yoongi sat up and leaned forward with interest. Hoseok stood up and eagerly bounced over to Y/N. She stood in front of him and took a deep breath. The first transaction with a new person could overwhelm her if she didn’t mentally prepare for it.

“The memories and information you have of Namjoon-ssi are locked in your mind.” Y/N explained to the collective group. “If we just sat down and you told me about him or the places you’ve traveled together or the unique experiences you’ve shared, I would only be getting your memory of those events and experiences. I wouldn’t be getting any firsthand information because I wasn’t there to witness it or be a part of it.”

“Well yeah,” Jungkook commented. “It’s why we say “You had to be there” when we tell each other stories. It’s never going to be exactly the same.”

“What if it could?” Y/N prompted. “What if I could experience that event as though I were actually there when it happened?”

“How?” Jimin asked. “That’s not possible, is it?”

Y/N’s smiled widened.

Here we go.

“Let’s test that theory, Jimin-ssi.” Y/N exclaimed. “Hobi, you’re going to give me your hands. As soon as you touch me, I want you to think about something that happened between you and Namjoon-ssi that I wouldn’t know about. Don’t say anything, just think about it. Replay the whole thing in your head. Ok?”

“Ok,” Hobi replied skeptically. He reached his hands forward and took Y/N’s hands in his own.

Hobi’s arms jolted in a wave as soon as his hands made contact with Y/N’s. The slight electrical shock wasn’t painful, just overwhelming. The pleasant tingle felt like feathers ghosting across his skin and he felt the goosebumps crawling up his arms and down his back. She closed her eyes and reminded him of his given task.

“Think about Namjoon, Hobi.” Y/N urged. “Don’t worry about what I’m doing.”

The tingling delightfully surged throughout Hobi’s body like when you submerge your body into a hot jacuzzi and it needs to adjust to the bubbling temperature. He let out a soft whimper as multiple sensations flooded his entire being. He shook his head slightly and tried to focus on the last conversation he’d had with Namjoon.

↸ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

Hobi knocked tentatively on Namjoon’s studio door. He needed a second opinion on some lyrics he was working on and only Namjoon’s expertise in the English language could help. Hobi just hated bothering him when they were in the middle of the album production.

“Come in!” Namjoon bellowed from within.

Hobi opened the door and walked over to the couch to watch Namjoon work. Whatever he was working on looked pretty intense and Hobi immediately felt guilty for disturbing Namjoon’s creative process. Maybe this lyric issue could wait?

Before Hobi could chicken out and leave, Namjoon spun around in his chair and grinned at Hobi. He was obviously enjoying the progress he’d made.

“What’s up, J-Hope?” Namjoon greeted, reaching to initiate a handshake. Hobi was too lost in thought to react in time and Namjoon awkwardly pulled his hand back. Hobi felt his face flush and the embarrassing moment lingered between them for a few seconds.

“Sorry,” Hobi apologized. “I just feel like I’m bothering you. I should just go.”

Hobi started to stand, but Namjoon rolled over and trapped him on the couch.

“Hobi,” Namjoon assured him. “You’re like a brother to me. Whatever you need, I will do my best to help you. Don’t ever feel like you’re bothering me, ok? Now, what’s on your mind?”

Hobi nodded slightly and exhaled in a burst of air. He felt stupid asking this question, but there was no one else he trusted enough to ask.

“I’m having trouble with some lyrics I’m working on, and I need your advice.” Hobi declared. “I’m struggling between the Korean and English translations.”

Namjoon nodded with familiarity. This was a problem he struggled with on a daily basis.

“Let me see what you’re working on.” Namjoon offered. “Maybe I can help?”

Hobi hesitated and then pulled out his phone. He’d been typing and retyping lyrics for a few days now, but the same two verses kept getting wiped and then rewritten. Something just felt off. He handed over his phone to Namjoon and drew his lips into a thin firm line, while Namjoon’s chin jutted forward slightly. No one knew about this song, and Hobi wasn’t sure he was ready to share it yet, but if he couldn’t figure out these verses, he’d never finish the song.

Namjoon read over the lines twice and then brought his hand up to cup his own jaw, lost in the cranks and gears of his brain at work. Hobi’s anxiety crawled up his spine and settled uncomfortably into his shoulders. Sharing work that was this private was such an intimate exchange, but he trusted Namjoon. He took a deep breath and waited patiently.

“I really like the concept you’ve got going on here, Hobi,” Namjoon burst out without warning. Hobi recoiled from the sudden boom of his voice. He gripped onto the arms of the couch to steady his rapidly beating heart.

“Sorry,” Namjoon chuckled. “I didn’t mean to be so loud.”

Hobi released his vice grip on the couch and smiled weakly.

“That’s ok,” Hobi breathed out. “You were excited, I get it. So...what do you like about it?”

Namjoon scooted over and motioned for Hobi to lean over so he could show him on the phone.

“You have this beautiful extended metaphor that is developing throughout the beginning of the song,” Namjoon explained. “But it starts to fall apart a little in this verse. I think if you keep expanding the same metaphor, you’d be able to find the words you’re looking for. Just follow the concept and see where it leads you.”

“What do you mean?” Hobi queried. “Do those words not fit in with the rest?

“They do,” Namjoon agreed. “But I think using different words would be more impactful if you kept the metaphor going past the first two verses. Use that comparison and pull it into the rest of the song. You shifted to another comparison, but the first one is so much stronger. You should stick with it and really sell that idea.”

“What about this phrase right here?” Hobi pointed out. “Is that the right word to use? It feels wrong.”

“Well, the word isn’t wrong, per se,” Namjoon remarked. “I think “coincidence” is probably a better fit. There’s no real irony in your lyrics; it’s all just an unfortunate coincidence. You could actually use that and tie in the idea that fate is controlling everything in life.”

“Ooooh,” Hobi squealed. “I like that! Thanks, Joon-ah!”

“Anytime, Hobi,” Namjoon smiled.

ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ⇲

Y/N sighed slightly and released Hobi’s hands, her eyes remaining closed. The soothing prickle under his skin dissipated slowly, leaving Hobi reeling from the stimulation. He stumbled back into his seat, gasping slightly. He looked at his hands and then gaped at Y/N. The euphoric feelings he’d felt were mind-boggling and he didn’t know how she’d accomplished so much sensation with just a simple touch. The other members exchanged curious looks between Y/N and Hobi, but no one was offering any kind of explanation.

“What just happened?” Jungkook asked. “Hobi-hyung, are you ok?”

Hobi shifted his eyes over to Jungkook and nodded his head slightly. His hands were trembling and he had an inexplicable desire to touch Y/N again. He chanced a look at Y/N who was still standing in the middle of the living room with her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted. She appeared to come down from a sort of high. Her body relaxed and she gasped and hummed sweetly as her brain processed the information.

Y/N took a deep breath and opened her eyes. They were slightly glazed and she smiled warmly at Hobi, who blushed under her intense gaze.

“So, Hobi,” Y/N began. “What is this song you were working so hard on?”

The others shifted their eyes over to Hobi and he retreated into the couch. What was Y/N talking about?

“Uh, it isn’t ready yet,” Hobi pouted. “I still have some more lyrics to write.”

Yoongi was dumbfounded. He turned to look at Y/N, who still had her eyes trained on Hobi’s retreating figure.

What did she see? What did she do to Hobi?

“Can someone please explain what just happened?” Tae interrupted. “I’m very confused about what we just saw.”

“Hobi shared his memory with me,” Y/N stated. “He allowed me to connect with his mind through electrical impulses and we were able to relive a private conversation between him and Namjoon together. It isn’t a precise science though. I was only able to catch a few visual flashes and most of the audio. With a more intimate connection, I would be able to process more information.”

“What do you mean by “intimate?” Jimin asked.

“Exactly what you think I mean,” Y/N continued. “Physical connection is only a part of the process. If there is also an emotional connection, the synapses are able to communicate more clearly and precisely. Hobi and I already established a friendly rapport, so holding his hands was enough to get basic information from him. With more time spent together, the connection could grow stronger and it makes the information transactions easier to process.”

“So how does this help Namjoon?” Yoongi wondered. “Not that I’m questioning your process. I just want to understand what I’m contributing.”

“I already have a base knowledge of Namjoon from all the content Big Hit sent me before I came to Seoul.” Y/N explained. “As entertaining as it all was, it hardly gives me an accurate portrait of who he is or how others feel toward him. You six spent more time with him than anyone else, so you are the best resource we have available.”

“But these aren’t Namjoon’s memories,” Tae pointed out. “These are our memories of him. How does that help?”

“You’re right, Taehyung,” Y/N responded. “These are not his memories. However, he was a part of them and reliving the experience from an intimate point of view can help fill in the missing pieces in his memories and possibly help to unlock others. We’re hoping to trigger his brain into releasing his memories by flooding it with your intimate knowledge and experience.”

“So what happens now?” Jungkook asked. “ Do we just sit around holding hands while you get information from us?”

“That’s one way to go,” Y/N admitted. “But Namjoon comes home in almost two weeks, and I’d like to start his rehabilitation as soon as he arrives. It would be more efficient to speed the process along as quickly as possible.”

“How do we do that?” Jimin asked, biting his lip into a pretty shade of pink.

“Isn’t it obvious, Jimin?” Jin rudely growled from his corner seat. “She wants us all to fuck her.”

Next Chapter

PERIPHERAL MASTERLIST

@caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma‘s MASTERLIST

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marvelsswansong · 6 years ago

Note

Can you do a bodyguard au with Steve? And if you'd like, make it Steve x reader please? :) if its okay with you!

a/n: I went for a slight mix of bodyguard au with mob au to make this story work, I will admit I personally really hate how this turned out but i hope you like it or don’t hate it at the very least xx

————————-

“(Y/n) will not be taking any more questions, thank you very much.” announced Steve, glaring at the reporters and parting a way in the clustered crowd of press peoples.

“You alright?”

You were the only person Steve was this soft around.

You smiled up at Steve and nodded. Steve carefully placed his hand on your back, resting it just above your waist, ensuring your safety as the rest of your security team cleared a path for you to walk back to your car. You wouldn’t have minded at all if Steve were to place his hands lower but wrap you in his arms, but you knew he wouldn’t do that.

Steve had a strict sense of morals he abided to and took his job as your bodyguard very seriously, never engaging in anything other than chivalrous forms of gestures and quick touches both in private and public. And though he maintained a cold and unmoved facade to the public, he was always kind and soft to you. You thought it meant something- that, perhaps, he was interested in you too.

But he never took it further than that. If you sat next to him, he would call another bodyguard over to sit to the other side of you to ensure maximum security. If you placed your hand on his he’d stiffen and say he needed both his hands free at all times to protect you. If you made a flirty comment he’d just smile and nod, pretending like what you said was just mundane and friendly.

All these thoughts plagued your mind as you sat in the car, the bright flashes from the paparazzi no longer annoying you as the limousine pulled away from the theater.

“Are you alright?” asked Steve, his low voice sending shivers down your spine.

You shifted in your seat and nodded.

“Yeah… yeah… That’s the second time you’re asking me that today, you know. Do I look that tired to you?” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

It started to rain outside as Steve sinked back to his seat and sighed, his eyes shifting to the floor for a quick second before looking back up at you.

“You’ve been acting strange for the past few days. What’s on your mind?”

You opened your mouth to spout out another lie, only for Steve to cut you off with a stern look.

“And don’t try and lie to me, you know I’m better than that.”

Should you say it?

Whatever. You were just going to say it. Rip it off like a band-aid.

“Do you like your job?”

Steve was taken back at your unexpected question for a moment, before he regained his composure and responded.

“Of course I do. Your family is lovely, even though they are in the mob business. The job pays well. It allows me to practice the expertise I gained from being in the army and training with the FBI.”

You huffed at his vague answer.

“And what about me?”

He cocked his head to the side in confusion.

“What about you?”

You sighed and crossed your arms.

“Who am I to you? Just a client? Just the daughter of a mob boss? Just an actress?”

Steve stiffened at your question. He could feel how annoyed and angry you were, and he didn’t want to piss you off even more. But could he say how he truly felt without risking it all?

“You’re…” started Steve carefully, gauging your reaction.

“You’re wonderful.”

You blinked.

“What?”

“You’re wonderful, (Y/n). You’re kind. You’re talented. You’re not caught up in all the negative bullshit of the world. You actually wanted to be something bigger than some daughter of a rich mob boss. You’re hardworking. You care about other people. You’re just… so wonderful.”

The way he uttered his last word was just so soft, and combined with his feather touch on your hand, you couldn’t help but feel all your anger dissipate into thin air.

“And do you like me?”

Steve smiled sadly.

“You already know the answer to that, (Y/n).”

You grabbed his hand without hesitation, linking your fingers with his.

“Then why don’t you make a move? You know I’ve liked you too, for at least two years now.”

Steve sighed but didn’t pull away from your touch. He was letting himself indulge in this fantasy for a little longer.

“You know why I can’t. It’s unprofessional.”

You quickly removed your hand from his.

“Are you serious? God, Steve, you know, there just comes a point where it’s less about professionalism and more about you being afraid.”

Before Steve could make up an excuse, the limo came to a stop and you got out, ignoring Steve’s commands that you wait for him to get out first. In fact, you quickly walked down the sidewalk, passing your house and beelining straight for the bar.

“(Y/n), wait-”

You stopped walking briefly to yell at Steve.

“No, Steve, I won’t wait. I want a goddamn drink, and if I want one, I’m going to go get-”

You felt unbearable pain in your stomach before you could finish your sentence, the smell of gunpowder and the deafening sound of a gunshot filling the air. Before the second shot could be fired you were thrown onto the ground by a massive figure, the familiar smell of Steve’s cologne letting you know who it was.

He cradled your body protectively by dragging you behind a nearby car, dialing a number with his right hand while shooting at an unknown figure with his left.

“Code red on sunset boulevard. Three shots fired, she was shot in the stomach. Requesting backup and medical assistance immediately.” spoke Steve into the phone, looking at you desperately.

“Steve… it- it hurts.”

Steve dropped his gun when the assailant fell to the floor and quickly turned around, ripping off his jacket and using it to suppress your wound. His desperate eyes screamed in fear as he gently brushed the hair out of your eyes, his voice cracking.

“I-I know sweetheart, but you gotta hold on, okay? Don’t close your eyes, help is on the way.”

The last thing you heard before your vision went dark was the sound of an ambulance siren in the background.

When you woke up, you were in a neat hospital bed covered in a thin white sheet with the repetitive beep of the heart monitor filling the room. Your body was so sore but you forced yourself to look to your left, only to see Steve at the corner of your bed, his head resting on the bed while his body was slouched over on a chair.

You tried to called out his name but coughed instead, which woke Steve up immediately. He was at your side in an instant, his hand on your face.

“You’re awake! Uh, how are you feeling?

You let out a small grunt.

“Like I’ve been shot.”

Steve smiled.

“Even in the worst moments, you joke.”

His laughter faded away and a serious expression settled on his face.

“I’ve been thinking… God, I was just so damn scared when you passed out. I thought I was going to lose you forever. Forever before I could-”

“Could what?”

Steve grabbed your face and kissed you quickly, his lips smashing onto yours without hesitation. Thought it was unexpected it was needy, it was sweet, and you found yourself pulling him closer to you.

“I love you.”

“B-but you said because of your job-”

Steve shook his head sideways.

“Screw the job. I realized a large reason why I loved the job was because of you. And if your dad has a problem with it, I’m-”

He took in a deep breath.

“I’m willing to quit my job.”

You quickly sat up in bed.

“But your job is your entire life, I don’t understand-”

“No, doll. You are my life. And I’d rather lose my job than lose you. Okay?”

“Okay…”

“So what do you say? Can I take you out for dinner sometime?”

You looked up at him with a mischievous smile.

“I don’t know, kiss me once more and I’ll be able to give you an answer.”

—————————————-

a/n: holy shit this was garbage ahh im sorry im so tired and lowkey burnt out from writing every day

–> read my other blurbs here

–> prompt list // REQUESTS ARE OPEN

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