#n e way i’m on the right meds now so i’m not getting the urge to nuke this blog every other week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

southsideserendipity · 2 years

Text

Pregnancy Scare (Kelly Severide x Reader)

Synopsis: You start to feel sick on the way back from an ambulance call, and Dawson wonders whether you may be pregnant.

Warnings: Mentions of throw up, coarse language.

Word Count: 3.3k

Everyone had just gotten back from a call, and you were all exhausted to say the least.

It was one of those days at the firehouse where it was dispatch after dispatch. You couldn’t help but feel a little light-headed upon return to 51. You reversed the ambo into the apparatus bay and put it in park. Opening the door to step out, you practically stumbled to your feet.

Squad and truck had gotten back before you - given the fact that you had to drop a patient off at med - so luckily no one was there to witness your drunken-like wobble. Especially your overprotective boyfriend, Kelly Severide, who is ready to call a med e-vac when you get a paper cut.

You place both of your palms up on the side of the ambo, locking your elbows for support. Feeling faint, you decided to take some slow, deep breaths in an attempt to make yourself feel better.

You thought Gabby was in the back of the ambo, taking inventory, but you hear her voice come from right next to you.

“Y/N…? Are you ‘kay?”

This startled you as you hadn’t noticed her presence right next to you, and also because you didn’t want to attract any attention to your sudden ailment.

“Yeah Gabs, I think I’m just dehydrated honestly. I’m gonna go grab a drink” you said, brushing off her concern and undermining how you were truly feeling.

“I don’t know, Y/N” she crossed her arms, leaning her side against the ambo. “You don’t look so good” she said with a concerned look on her face.

“Aw, that’s so nice of you Dawson” you joked back in response, shooting her a sarcastic fake-smile. You decided to opt against telling the truth and to instead use your poor humour skills to distract her from your ghastly complexion.

“Cmon, you know that’s not what I meant Y/N. You better be telling me the truth” Gabby raised one eyebrow, as if it helped her get a better read of your poker face.

“I’m good I prom-” you were interrupted mid-sentence by the sudden urge to gag, and you began dry-heaving.

“Y/N!” Gabby rushed over to you and began rubbing your back. “Either you get in the ambulance and let me check you out, or I tell Severide.”

You looked up at her with an annoyed but thankful glance, given that she fought through your painful stubbornness to make sure you were okay.

Gabby led you into the ambulance and encouraged you to sit down on the gurney. She closed the doors behind her, and got right to work.

“I’m hooking you up to an IV.” She said, grabbing a saline bag.

“Yeah, I’d like to exercise my right to refuse treatment” you joked, earning a glaring Gabby who stopped what she was doing in order to fully display the annoyed look on her face.

“The quicker we get this done, the quicker you get out of here and the better chance we have that no one realizes we’re missing. She argued, searching for a vein in your arm.

You sighed in agreement, knowing there was no way you were going to get out of Dawson’s care.

When you felt your stomach rumble and another wave of nausea hit you, you knew the inevitable was going to happen.

“Gabby, I’m going to throw up” you stated matter o’factly, while looking at her with a startled expression. You motioned for the garbage can and she quickly handed it over to you. Had she done so 1 second later, you would’ve thrown up all over yourself.

“Now you definitely don’t look good” your best-friend said, trying to make light of the situation but still being in paramedic mode. You grumbled in response, refusing to admit you weren’t okay.

Once you were done, you set the can aside and laid back down, contemplating why you were feeling this way.

“I’m good now, I swear. Lunch just didn’t sit right with me. That’s the last time I eat food that Cruz has cooked.” You took the IV needle out of your arm, deeming that you didn’t need it, and began to exit the back of the ambo.

Dawson didn’t stop you this time. “I’m going to write in my chart here that the patient was unco-operative, and threw up in my ambulance” Dawson said, shrugging to herself.

You peeked your head in between the ambo doors before walking away, and said “this never happened.” Dawson looked at you with a disappointed look, but accepted the situation knowing that being caught could lead to ambo getting taken out of service, and - even worse - Y/N’s lieutenant boyfriend sending her home.

“Grab something to drink!!!” Gabby shouted after you. She couldn’t see you, but you simultaneously nodded your head and smiled to yourself, grateful to have a caring person like her in your life.

Walking into the lounge and towards the fridge, you noticed everyone was eating dinner.

“Hey Y/N. We ordered out tonight to treat ourselves for the long day, come grab a bite” Cruz said with excitement, opening up the pizza box and wafting the smell towards you. “Take a seat!”

You could never say no to pizza, but at this particular time, the scent you caught made the bile in your stomach rise once again.

“I’m not hungry right now, guys, but I’ll eat soon, I promise.” Cruz looked at you like you had 5 heads, knowing you could probably eat more slices than him if it came down to it, but he just shrugged it off. When you reached the fridge you opted for gatorade, knowing the electrolytes would help.

As you closed the fridge door, the room began to spin. You tried to speed walk to your bed to rest, but the change in pace made you feel even worse. Before you know it, you collapsed onto the floor.

———————————————————————

“Y/N?????” You woke up to multiple heads staring down at you from above, all with concerned looks on their faces. Once you regained vision, you made out the figures to be Cruz, Hermann, Mouch, Brett, and Otis. “Grab her some water!” Brett slapped Otis across the chest - concern evident in her voice - and he scrambled to the fridge.

“I’m fine everyone. I’m just dehydrated, I swear.” You lazily attempted to stand up, your body void of energy, but were pushed back down by everyone. “No no no, you sit your tush right where you are missy” said Hermann who was standing opposite of you.

You groaned in frustration, grateful that your family at 51 was worried about you, but hating that you attracted attention towards yourself.

“She’s over here” you heard distantly, eventually making out the voice to be Capp. He was directing Severide to you, and you assumed he grabbed him from his office.

“Y/N? What happened??” Severide rushed right over to you, kneeling next to you and checking you out for any injuries.

“I passed out but I swear I’m okay, I just gave myself whiplash because of how fast I was racing to my bed. I’m good I swear.”

“What the hell happened?” Dawson said as she stepped into the room and saw you lying down. “You told me you were okay, Y/N!!”

“You knew about this?” Severide snapped his head towards her, wondering why he wasn’t notified that the love of his life wasn’t feeling well, and upset that he didn’t help sooner.

Dawson replied, “She didn’t want me to tell anyone!”

“And Dawson, you are an excellent paramedic for that. You respected patient confidentiality, which I suggest the rest of you should do. For the last time, I’m fine!” you grumbled to everyone, feeling as though you were being babied by your team.

You swung your legs off of the couch, and stood up. Making your way to bed, you took the cup of water out of Otis’ hand, and disappeared into quarters. Everyone looked at each other with confusion at your sudden emotional outburst, given that it was out of character for you.

Severide was on his way to check up on you, when the alarm sounded once again.

You grumbled as you got up for what felt like the hundredth call that day, and began to walk towards the ambo.

“You gonna be okay?” Severide asked as he put on his overalls, watching you step into the ambo. “Yes, I promise” you responded, sending him a soft smile.

———————————————————————

On the way back to the firehouse, you felt Dawson’s eyes burning a hole into you.

You glanced over and looked between her and the road a couple of times before asking “Do I have something on my face?”

You looked at the rear view mirror and began fixing your fly aways, and inspecting your makeup- trying to make your actions theatrical to follow up with your sarcastic comment.

“Are you late?”

You snapped your head over to her, eyes popping out of your head, baffled that she would ask you such a (reasonable) question.

“What? My period you mean?” She slowly nodded, apprehension evident in her body language.

“No Gabby, I’m not. At least I don’t think I am.”

Her eyes remained glued on you, not believing your plead.

“Have your nipples changed colour? That’s supposed to be the first sign.” She said confidently and almost proudly, gleaming at this newfound possibility that you could be carrying.

“I’m not sure Gab, you want me to pull them out for you and the citizens of Chicago so you can check the colour of my areoles?” You said as you laughed. You took turns switching between focusing on the road, and being bewildered that you were having this conversation.

“Let me check your app” she placed her palm out towards you, waiting for you to pull out your phone and plant it in her hand.

“You can’t be serious right now. I’m not late, I swear! See for yourself.” You lifted up your buttcheek and took your phone out from underneath you, handing it over in surrender.

“Flo says otherwise, Y/N.” You looked over in disbelief.

“How late?” you asked with a mix of hesitation and eagerness. “6 days” she responded, not sure what response it would elicit from you. Meanwhile, the pit - or baby - in your stomach was growing.

“Have you and Severide been, y’know, wrapping ‘er up” she asked with a questioning tone, whispering the last 3 words for comedic effect to make the conversation less serious.

“Yes! I mean, maybe. Well, sometimes. I don’t know Gab, we fuck like rabbits, I lose track” You squinted your eyes in embarrassment, and straightened your arms while steering, scared to hear her reaction. You went from acting as if Gabby’s original question were preposterous, to accepting that your carelessness with protection was exactly what landed you in this position.

“Oh, Y/N, you better take a test. Listen, have sex all you want, but don’t think the raw doggin’ won’t catch up to you” she joked. You nodded with a face that was scrunched up in discomfort, understanding it needed to be done but your anxiety getting the best of you.

“Tomorrow after shift we’ll do it. Since we’re off the day after tomorrow, we can spend the night celebrating… or not.”

“And which outcome would result in us celebrating. Hmm Gab? I hope it’s the outcome where I’m NOT knocked up!” I exclaimed, completing stressing out.

“Hey, I would love to see a baby combination of you and Kelly running around the firehouse, wouldn’t you?” She leaned against the window to face towards you, her chin being held up by her fist.

“Yeah, of course! But maybe in 5 years or something?! There’s no way either of us are ready for a kid- we’re still recovering from our childhoods, and I wouldn’t want to traumatize our child in the process. Oh my god. Our child. That sounds so weird to say!” you groaned out in anxiety, your leg beginning to bounce up and down while you were parked at a red.

“Y/N it’s going to be okay. I promise. We’ll do this together. I would at least tell Severide you’re late, he deserves to stay in the loop, which he seemed to be out of this afternoon.” She said, referring to your health predicament from earlier.

“Yeah… I’ll talk to him.”

———————————————————————

“Are you feeling better? Why didn’t you tell me you were sick” Severide asked you, concern written all over his face.

You were both walking to his mustang, ready to call it a day after a hellish shift for the both of you. For you, it was the physical - and mental - ailments; for him, it was being worried about his at times secretive girlfriend.

“I’m good Kel, really. I just wanna go home” you said to him from across the car, getting into the passenger seat.

“Why are you like this, Y/N? Why can’t you keep me updated about what’s going on. I’ve been worried sick all shift and all you can give me is an ‘I’m good’” he spoke as he began the drive home.

“Look who’s talking! I find out what’s going on with you through Casey or Boden most of the time! It goes both ways, Kel” you uttered in frustration and focused on the scenery outside, confused as to how your secretive boyfriend himself could be upset with you about this.

“Okay, but I tell you eventually? You’ve been beating around the bush all day when I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“My period is late.”

His head snapped over to look at you about as fast as you looked over at Dawson when she asked you if you were late.

Severide was speechless. He truly didn’t know what to say. You both went from disputing about your mutual secretiveness to drowning in the tension present in the car.

“How late?” he asked in a soft, curious tone, mad at himself for letting his protectiveness over you come out as anger.

“6 days. I’ll take a test soon” You replied, waiting for a response. But you didn’t get one. The rest of the ride home was silent, and Kelly hadn’t said a word. He was driving with a straight face, and as per usual you couldn’t detect exactly what was going through his mind. You once again peered out the window, and a lone tear slid down your cheek.

———————————————————————

You were on your way to Gabby’s house after the next day’s shift, deciding that you and Kelly needed some space. You had only seen him at work that day, and when you did it was an above-the-surface type of conversation- just so no one would realize something is up (even though the whole house knew).

You would be lying if you said you weren’t upset. You were expecting any other emotion from Kelly aside from the emptiness he was giving. Did he not care that he could’ve knocked you up? Was he going to break up with you if you are pregnant? Was he upset? You didn’t know. This obviously did not help the stress you were already under.

You arrived at Gabby’s apartment and made your way up. Before you had a chance to knock on the door, she had already swung it open.

“Did you miss me that much?” I laughed, hanging my coat up.

“I’m eager, Y/N. I wanna know!! Did you tell Kelly? I bet he’s so excited. And nervous. I bet he’s nervous. I thi-” “Gabby!!” you exclaimed, walking over to her and grabbing both of her cheeks with your hands. “Please relax, you’re stressing me out!”

Her eyes widened as she realized she’s probably not helping the anxiety you were feeling, and breathed out while pulling down her shirt. “Yes, yes, of course, sorry, okay.” She clapped, “let’s do this.”

———————————————————————

“So he just… didn’t say anything?” she asked in astonishment, closing the bathroom door behind her and setting a timer for 5 minutes.

“Nope. Like a dear in headlights with his mouth open to catch flies, he just sat there.”

You both sat down on the couch, waiting for the test to run it’s course. Gabby had some spare tests in her apartment, being the prepared person she was.

“He’s probably just scared, Y/N. You know how his relationship with dad is. He probably can’t fathom being a father himself when he had Benny for a father. And to be fair you did keep him out of the loop the whole day yesterday, you blindsided the guy.” You peered up at your best-friend in astonishment. You were so preoccupied with the idea of being pregnant that you didn’t even consider how your announcement might’ve affected Kelly.

“Dawson. I’m a horrible girlfriend.” You looked at her with wide, glistening eyes, realizing how horrible you’ve been to not only Kelly, but your family at 51. You weren’t used to people being sincerely worried about you, but how you treated them yesterday wasn’t fair. Especially your own boyfriend.

“You’re not, Y/N. You’re just used to letting the wrong people in. Now that the right people are trying to get in, you just gotta learn to let them. Especially Kelly. He loves you. We all know that. You make him happier than any girl he’s ever been with.”

You nodded in agreement after listening to Gabby’s wide words, and tried hard to stop bouncing your leg in an attempt to calm yourself down.

Before you were able to respond to her, the timer went off.

———————————————————————

“Kel? I’m home” you shouted into your seemingly empty apartment

“In here!” he responded from the living room. You put your stuff down and walked towards him.

There he was watching the Chicago Blackhawks game with a beer in his hand, his legs spread, and one arm laying across around the back of the couch.

He put his beer down on the side table and stood up to face you. “I’m sor-” “No, I’m sorry, Y/N. I froze” he looked at you with a look of sorrow, upset that he let his girlfriend down when she needed him.

“When you told me you were late, my whole world froze. I was excited at the possibility of you carrying my child, but also terrified that I wouldn’t be capable of being the father you needed. Benny’s not exactly father of the year, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be. Whatever the results of the test are, I’ll be there for you. Doesn’t matter if I don’t feel ready, I’ll get ready. We’re in this together, Y/N.”

You were baffled that your boyfriend just poured his heart out to you. It was hard for Kelly to show emotion and let you in, but his commitment to try and to do better than his father warmed your heart, and you knew why he was the man you fell in love with.

You stepped towards him before you responded. “Kelly, I owe you an apology too. I should’ve told you I didn’t feel well. I don’t want you to favourite me and jeopardize your power just to cater to me. I want to keep work outside of our relationship, because I don’t want it to get in the way of what we have. Regardless of that, you deserve to stay updated about me, not as my superior, but as my boyfriend. And I vow to be less secretive with you. Also, you’re a hell lot more of a man than your father ever will be.”

He walked over to you and grabbed your face, commencing a passionate kiss.

“I love you too” you giggled, while he smiled in response.

“The test was negative, by the way. Which I had mixed feelings about. I want to carry your child but I know we’re both not ready. I can’t wait to actually make a baby though, I heard the process involves a lot of sex” you joked to him, earning a laugh in response.

“Let’s get a head start then.” He picked you up in a hurry and raced you over to the bedroom, ready for a long night of festivities.

———————————————————————

A/N: Hey everyone!! I hope you enjoyed that. I feel like I started off strong and then completely butchered the ending, but I hope it was a bearable read!! Send in requests/ let me know what type of imagines you want to see with Kelly.

334 notes · View notes

pressedinthepages · 3 years

Text

Wash

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Jaskier/Reader

Rating: E

Masterlist

a/n: Reader Request: [Hi! What about Jaskier saving the female reader but getting hurt in the process. So she takes care of him after. One day she's helping him to take a bath and Jaskiers body is reacting a bit too excited. But she doesn't mind and decides to extend her help a little bit …] ok so here’s the tea, i totally forgot about the jaskier saving the day part...so i wrote this instead XD

also thanks to @sometimesiwrite for being 10/10.

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: language, smut, fluff, blood

Jaskier stumbles into a tavern and finds a friendly face.

Your chin rests in your hands as your eyelids grow heavier with each passing moment. It’s late, and there hasn’t been a guest in your tavern since the snow started falling when the sun set. Everyone headed home, leaving you here to watch the hours tick by.

Now, the moon hangs high in the sky and the snow falls steadily outside, blanketing the world in silent tranquility. That is, until the heavy door to the tavern bursts open with a flurry of snow and icy air, and quickly shut once more. But there was not only a light dusting of snow on the floor now.

A young man, seemingly deposited straight from the pages of a maiden’s storybook, leans against the door. His cloak hangs askew on his shoulders and he is clutching an expensive-looking doublet in long, pale fingers. He looks up at you and you can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips. His cheeks and nose are pink with chill, making his eyes look like they are glowing in the dim light of your tavern.

Oh, and those eyes. Bluer than the clearest sea, and you can see that they hold depths beneath them that could turn even the most experienced sailor dizzy.

“Ah, well met,” the man breathes, his chest heaving as he catches his breath in the warm room. He stands to his full height now, several inches taller than you, and slides his cloak off of his frame. You gasp when his chemise is revealed, the shoulder torn and stained with blood the color of rich wine.

You rush to his side, taking the cloak and his doublet from him and tossing them onto a nearby hook for travelers. Quickly throwing the lock down for the door, you usher him towards the rear of the tavern where your living quarters rest. “By the Gods, are you alright��?”

“Jaskier, my name is Jaskier, dear,” he smiles, but you can see the twinge of pain now that you are a bit closer. “And while I have been better, I have certainly been in nastier scraps. Nothing to be worried about.”

You give him your name in return before you turn to stoke the fire that had been warming water for your own bath that night. “Well forgive me, Jaskier, but I think that it may be a good idea for me to worry enough for the both of us.”

He genuinely laughs at that, leaning carefully against the wall. Fuck, his voice drips like honey from a pot. Your cheeks warm a bit as you lift the pot, pouring the warm water into your tub on the floor. “We need to get you cleaned up so I can take a look at that.”

Jaskier quirks a brow, mischief painting his features in broad strokes. “What, the local tavern owner is the healer too?”

You shake your head good-naturedly, gesturing to him to join you. “The closest healer is in the next town over, but I have seen my fair share of injuries.”

“Then I should count myself lucky that it was your tavern I found myself in.” Jaskier moves quickly, reaching up to pull at the already loose strings to his shirt. He undoes them and it falls open and off of him, cascading to the ground in a pool of creamy fabric streaked with crimson.

His chest is broader than it originally seemed, and, Melitele help you, covered in dark hair. You can see the strength that his body carries covered by a gentle layer of softness, almost certainly from a good diet of wine and good company.

And then he flinches as his fingers drift to the laces of his trousers, his shoulder twitching in pain. “C-could you?” He looks up sheepishly, and your hands reach out before you can think twice about it.

Your hands shake as the laces fall open and you look up and away to try and preserve at least some of his modesty, but you can feel how warm and solid his legs are as you push the pants down to the ground.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” Jaskier says, holding his hand out to help you up. You lead him towards the warm bath you’ve prepared and help him settle in before pulling up a stool behind him.

The moan that he lets out, though, when he reclines back in the bath, would make a priestess blush. The heat from the water flushes his chest and his head thunks against the rim of the tub and his blue, blue eyes blink open at you.

You swallow in an attempt to quell the redness creeping across your cheeks, but it's no good. The best you can hope for is that your professionalism won't let you down.

"We should get that wound clean and bandaged before you lose blood into the hot water," you say, having dealt with your fair share of injuries from tavern brawls and travelers. Even a witcher once came through with a bloody brow... took some convincing to let you clean him up, but he eventually conceded. He was nice, you thought as you got your med kit from behind the bar. Nicer than you'd've expected when he first came in, scowling and bloody and asking for vodka. You hum to yourself as you look for the right bottle.

“Do you sing?” Jaskier asks, seemingly unperturbed by his injury. You turn back to him with the bottle of clear alcohol in hand, your skirt swirling around on the floor. “Not typically, no,” you reply, sitting back down on the stool and uncorking the bottle. Your free hand finds his uninjured shoulder and rubs soothing circles over the tan skin. “This will sting.”

He inhales sharply and grits out a moan as the everclear wicks into his open wound, “Vayopatis that smarts!!”

“I’m sorry. A bit of tough love, I’m afraid. Hold still.” Your words are firm but your touch is gentle and caring as you continue.

“So,” you ask lightly as you dip a clean cloth into the water, lifting it to the wound, “just how did you find yourself with this?”

“Ah, nothing far out of sorts,” Jaskier replies, his voice thin and pained. “Heard someone speaking poorly of a dear friend of mine, so I gave them a piece of my mind. As I turned to walk away, they threw a knife at me! A KNIFE! Coward.”

“Seems you got lucky, looks like it just grazed the skin.” The wound has stopped bleeding now, and Jaskier seems to be melting a bit under your hands. “You still with me?”

“Oh, very much so,” Jaskiers voice is thick and strained, and his neck has flushed a pretty pink.

“Would you like me to help, ah...wash?” Your voice trembles a bit as you reach down next to you for the soap.

Jaskier smiles, his shoulders relaxing and his knees poking up above the water as he gets comfortable. “I’ll never say no to a bath from a lovely lady.”

You roll your eyes and laugh a little, the tension easing away like suds in the water. You add some soap to the cloth and drag it across his back, over the lines of muscle and down his spine. You are careful around the tender skin of his injured shoulder, but he seems content to lay and let you wash him.

The air turns thick in the room with the warmth of the water and you can feel sweat bead at the nape of your neck. You unlace the neck of your shirt and let it fall open, the soft skin of your breasts just peeking out into the night. You stand and bring the stool around to sit at Jaskiers side facing him, and you don’t miss when his eyes linger on your exposed bosom.

You hold out your hand expectantly and Jaskier’s gaze falls to your fingers. He stares for a moment, his mind drawing a blank as the air around him feels tighter and tighter. You clear your throat and wiggle your fingers, and Jaskier finally gets the hint. He slides his hand into yours and you hold up his arm, running the soapy cloth down from his shoulder to his wrist. The grime of travel is washed away with every stroke, and Jaskier swallows thickly with each passing moment, warmth blossoming low in his belly.

You can’t claim to be unaffected either, for you can feel his gaze burning into your skin like a brand. But not in an unwelcome, perverse way. No, Jaskier’s eyes watching your every move feel curious, searching for an answer to a yet unasked question.

Once both arms are clean you lean in, pressing the cloth to the broad expanse of his chest. You drag it lazily over the crook of his collarbone and down through the soft smattering of hair on his skin. His breath hitches and his cheeks turn pink when you brush over his nipple, and you bite the inside of your cheek in an effort to stifle your own moan at the noise.

Your hand drifts lower over his stomach and you can feel it rise and fall with each of his breaths. You are just about to dip below the line of the water when Jaskier’s hand suddenly darts out and catches your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You instantly retreat, cheeks growing warm with the ideas of what exactly you were about to do.

“Ah, darling, wait,” Jaskier breathes, keeping your hand tight in his. “I just-I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea...y-you’ve been so wonderful and I-uh, my body is ah, well. Very appreciative...”

You blink as your heart does flips in your chest and you only barely resist the urge to glance down to the water between his legs. “Well, if you wanted...I coul-I could help?”

And then, Jaskier’s face does something truly remarkable. It turns from the soft, apologetic young man to something darker, more primal. His eyes dilate and he grins toothily, and he tips his chin up, exposing the graceful line of his neck. “If you’re certain, darling, be my guest.”

His grip on your hand loosens, though he keeps you well within his grasp. Your hand goes back to his stomach and your fingers drift lower and lower, teasing at the edge of the water before plunging in. Jaskier’s eyes flutter closed and his breath catches when you find his arousal between his legs, hard and straining just past where the eye could see.

You carefully wrap your hand around the base, feeling the coarse hairs tickle your fingers. His cock throbs at your touch and you move your hand slowly, tugging gently up and back down. “Gods, woman,” Jaskier rasps, his fingers flexing where they now grip the rim of the tub, “h-how are your hands s-so soft?”

“Softer somewhere else,” you whisper, smirking with a wink when his eyes shoot open and grip yours with fervor. Your hand moves faster, just a bit, but enough to have his hips rocking up to meet you.

“Fuck,” Jaskier’s chest rises high and falls far with every gulping breath that is pulled from him. You lean in and press your lips to his skin, hot and wet and by the Gods so are you. Warmth pools low in your belly as you watch Jaskier fall apart under your hand, and for a fleeting moment, you think about what it may be like to have this in your bed.

“C’mon, Jaskier,” you murmur against his skin, twisting your wrist and squeezing lightly around him, “let me take care of you.”

Jaskier nods and swallows thickly, his hips thrusting harder and harder, chasing a quickly approaching high. Water sloshes out onto the floor and he gasps for air as he grows closer and closer under your watchful eye. “P-please, holy hells, I ju-”

“Go on, Jaskier,” you murmur into the hollow of his throat, “give me your pleasure.”

And then, seemingly quite surprisingly to him, he does.

A ragged gasp tears from his throat as he throws his head back, stuttering up into your hand. Warmth coats your fingers and you slow, still intent on wringing every last drop from him. Jaskier in the throes of climax is a glorious sight, his cheeks pink and muscles tensed, teeth bared with every breath he pulls. His stomach tenses and you move your hand away, not wanting to push too far. You press your lips to his neck one last time before standing, crossing over to the drying cloth that hangs on the back of your door.

“J-just give me a moment, darling,” Jaskier breathes, slowly blinking his eyes open. “I’ll gladly return the favor.”

You bring your washing jug over to the bath and set it on the stool along with the cloth. “Don’t worry about me, Jaskier,” you murmur as you help him to stand in the bath, “I just wanted to make you feel good.”

You find the washing cloth and dip it into the jug, wiping Jaskier down from the now-soiled bathwater. Now that he’s standing and you feel a bit more comfortable, you are able to truly appreciate just how pretty his cock is. Long and just thick enough, with dark hair around the base between his legs. And, Gods be good, half-hard against his thigh. You look up at him through your lashes and find him reaching for you, fitting his finger under your chin and bringing you to close the gap.

“And now,” he whispers darkly, danger dripping with honey, “I’d like to make you feel good.”

#jaskier x reader #smut #fluff

101 notes · View notes

geminimoonbeamx · 4 years

Text

Moon lit Serenades

A/N: Dedicated to the reader, may you find happiness. I am so nervous for TROS, I saw a rumor that Poe dies and lost it. That plus the fact that there is literally no Plus Sized ReaderxPoe community? I had to remedy that. This is porn.

Warnings: This is porn. Serious smut from pretty much start to finish. Please enjoy.

Summary: Poe seeks comfort after a particularly hard mission in the only way he knows how. A Poe x Plus Sized Reader story

I am a moth, who just wants to share your light.

I’m just an insect, trying to get out of the night.

I only stick with you, because there are no other’s.

You we’re all I need.

I’m in the middle of your picture.

Lying in the reeds- Radiohead

War had finally caught up with Poe Dameron.

Had finally taken it’s toll, and far more then it’s chunk of flesh. Battle wary and blaster shocked, it was hard to think of the resistance these days as just that- a resistance. No, this was more of a bloodbath.

War.

He’d never thought of it like that before, always held his head high, a defiant flame in his eyes. This was fuck the system- fuck the First Order. Fuck anyone who tried to tell him what to do. He was willed, motivated by the sheer rage that anyone would have to live their life in oppression. Under the thumb of Snoke or Phasma, dead and gone now- Hux and Ren hopefully to follow sooner rather than later.

And that fire to see them fall was still there...but it was dimmed.

Had been stomped on, choked out.

Watching people you love die for you, because of you on a daily basis...it wasnt something he’d wish upon anyone. Friends, family. Allies, brothers and sisters in arms. His fleet which had once flourished with dozens of pilot’s was down to a mere handful of lucky ones.

He was willing to breathe and bleed for the cause. It was in his blood- the sticky substance that matted his dark hair to his head as he climbed out of his X-wing. His parents had been the same.

Was he willing to keep watching others die for it though?

He couldn't stop form pondering the question as he and his unit arrive back to the makeshift base, in the middle of nowhere on a planet in the outer rim- the name of it he could barely pronounce. The shabby hut like quarters made the memory of D’quar and its green covered everything throb longingly in his gut.

That seemed so long ago, now.

No matter. No time for getting attached. They’d be on the move again within a fortnight, never staying any one place longer than a month at a time. Rey usually kept them one step ahead, connected to Ren through the force in a way that made Poe’s stomach churn, but that came in handy with them not getting caught.

Thinking about Kylo Ren always made him sour from the inside out. Muscles clenched in memory of the torture he’d endured at the hands of what used to be Leia’s son, but was now just a shell with his dead fathers nose and the mark of his dead uncles betrayal on his black soul.

Poe would kill him in an instant if he got the chance. He prays to fuck that one day he does.

Clenching his fingers into fists is painful right now- the small mission had gone awry and they’d had to punch their way out of it. Literally. He’s feeling the aftermath of it all over, aching and sore.

He doesn't have it in him to attend the debrief. Can't muster the will, not right now. Maybe after a hot shower, maybe after he gets some food in his stomach and allot’s himself a moment to wallow. He forces himself to stand straight, spine elongated in a way that has his bones and muscle screaming.

Poe tries not to limp, as he scurries away to lick his wounds. He fails.

“Poe, you need to see a medic!” Finn insists, somewhere behind him. Always worried, always caring. Poe has nightmares about the night that he eventually loses him, too.

“Don't worry, I will” Finn wonders how someone who looks like they’re going to keel over at any moment- can manage to sound so cheeky.

Rey, who stands beside Finn, bruised bleeding herself wonders if he realizes that Poe is on the verge of tears. The pilot rippling and vibrating so hard she could feel it, taste it on the air.

Neither of them say anything though. The just watch him disappear into the stormy, starless night.

----

Sleep isn't something that comes easy to you as of late.

Not only did you spend your days(and most hours of your nights, too) in the Med Bay, you had never been the kind of person that could handle big changes, sharp adjustments. This hop forts every couple of weeks trend was killing you.

Your mind couldn't relax, R.E.M. State was always just out of reach.

Especially when he was gone...which also seems to be a trend these days. The missions just kept getting longer and longer- the time that he was on base shorter and farther between.

But it was raining tonight- the soft rhythmic pitter patter of it on the roof of the hut reminding you of your home planet, you could almost pretend you were there; the smell of petrichor tricking your brain. Making it easier to curl up on the bed that was really more of a cot and cozy into the Resistance standard blanket.

For the first time in two weeks- you sleep. Hard. Like a rock. The exhaustion finally overtaking your body, and putting you out of commission. General Organa was right to send you back to your bunk, physically removing you from your post.

You feel kind of, extremely, guilty for the attitude you’d thrown at her -

“I’m fine, if I don't do my job, who’s going to?”-

aimed her way even though she didn't deserve it. She was right, of course. She tended to be most of the time. Why anyone ever doubted her, why you ever doubted her, you didn't know.

The sleep is dreamless, just the way you prefer it...you hadn't always, but nothing was better then the nightmares. Nothing is far from peace, but close to quiet. A middle ground that could be called purgatory, depending how you looked at it.

So when there's a knock at your door, the wooden one that gave you more privacy then you’d had in months, that wakes you from your much needed slumber, you can't help but feel the irritation surge through you. Your hypothetical feathers bristled as you huff and puff and pull yourself out of bed, yanking a pair of breezy sleep pants up your chubby legs and a robe over your shoulders- not wanting to answer whoever it was in the near nude.

When you pull open the door- well, it was the one person who wouldn't have minded if you had greeted him in your panties.

“Poe?” You question, because your eyes still haven't adjusted, your mind still three fourths asleep and one fourth confused.

“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart” And oh? Sweetheart? In that gravelly voice, tired and worn and fragile...you're instantly aware of what kind of state he’s in.

When you pull him inside, flipping on the light orb, and are able to see him. Clearly now; all bloody and bruised, you inhale sharply. His eye is blackened on the same side of his face that seems to be saturated in crusted crimson.

“Stars, Poe” You whisper as you crowd him, urging him to sit on the cot that’s still warm from your body heat. Poe frowns, pretty lips pulled down as he takes it, and you in. Your hair rumpled, your robe falling off your shoulder as you gather medical supplies from what seems like all over your small “room”

The first thing you do is take out a small capsule full of neon blue liquid from a jar and hand it to him. He takes it gratefully, tossing it down the hatch before you can even offer him water. Painkillers aren't the easiest to come by since they’ve been on the move.

“I woke you up, didn't I?” He inquires, after he swallows.

“Obviously” You answer as you step back into his orbit, close enough that he can smell your skin. That his eyes can trace each of the freckles that dot across your nose, your cheeks. You put your finger under his chin and tilt his head up, and fuck, isn't that a pretty view?

“I’m sorry” He whispers, hissing between his teeth as you, gently but deftly, begin to clean his head.

“Mmm, it’s fine. I’m awake now, Kriff Poe, you look like warmed over shit. This gash in your hairline is going to need stitches” You’re focused, wiping and dabbing as you speak.

He didn't realize, until that moment, just how much he missed your voice.

“Your bedside manner is spectacular as ever” He grins as he says it, even though it hurts to do so. His busted lip is next on your itinerary.

“Well when you show up at my bedside and not the other way around, I’m pretty sure that changes up the rules”

“Didn't you miss me...at your bedside, that is?” He pushes on, he wants you soft and sweet for him but he knows from experience it takes a bit to get there. Especially since he’s been gone so long.

“Stop distracting me” You mutter. You're only half pretending to be completely focused on the task at hand, at this point you could probably stitch a wound with your eyes closed.

“M’sorry” He’s not. It’s selfish, but he really isn't. He’s not sorry for barging in on you and waking you up, or for sitting in your bed reeking of blood and days worth of dirt. How can he be, when this feels so good? Your soft little hands working at him, healing with every touch. There’s no hurt when he’s around you- only good.

The painkiller makes the edges fuzzy, makes the fact that your repeatedly pulling a needle through his skin seem mild. It’s not like it’s his first time getting sewn up, and he highly doubts it’ll be his last.

Poe can't stop staring at you, dark eyes hooded. Hungry in a way that he doesn't care to hide. Drinking you in, gulping. It’d been almost a month and he was dying to get his fill. Your round body, nothing but curves and dips that he was itching to touch, is mostly covered, but the robe is still hanging off your shoulder. Satin skin exposed, so pretty and pristine.

It’s almost out of his control when his hand skims up our arm, skin seeking out skin. His palm sears as it settles on your upper arm. The plush flesh so soft under his calloused hands that he’s almost worried that it would give if e pressed down too hard.

In the back of his mind he knows better, though. Recalls just how much you can take.

“Poe” You warn tightly, lashes fluttering as you shoot him a look. One that makes him chuckle, because you're not fooling him.

He’ll play, mostly because he wants to, but he knows you missed him as much as he missed you.

You wonder if he can feel the way that you're trembling, already shaking for him. It’s stupid, you feel stupid, and yet you cant stop it. You have healers hands, medic’s hands- and at least you can get them to stay still as you finish with his head, then his lip.

Going insane from the simplest touch, from the way that he rubs his thumb in circles over and over on your upper arm. You remember when that would have made you uncomfortable, big arms that you wanted covered at all times used to be a big no-no.

But with Poe it was different. He wasn't there to judge. He just wanted to feel.

You don't want to pull away, but you have to. Your brain is torn, but ultimately resorts back to it’s resting state: health driven. Medically inclined.

“You need to go take a shower, wash the rest of the blood out of your hair. The hot water will help to start to bring down the swelling” you instruct, and it would be how you talked to any patient. Except for the way you cradle the side of his face, your voice breathy as you touch is thick locks that are greasy. A bit tangled.

Poe nods, he knows your right. Knows he should have done that before he even came here…

“Can I come back?” It’s hopeful, he spits it quick- desperate.

It feels like someone yanked, hard, on a loose thread inside your chest.

“Always. You know that”

While he showers, forced to go a few huts over to the community bathrooms, you’re a flurry of anxious thoughts and movement. Tidying up the small space and yourself the best you can. You’d showered earlier in the evening, using the last of the last of the Obsidian Lily oil that you’d carried with you. You still smelled good, pretty.

Your hair was wild, but not untamable and you end up brushing it smooth. You hadn't shaved since before he had left and curse yourself for not doing so earlier. How were you supposed to know that he was coming back tonight? Growing up on your home planet, there was a moss based soap that everyone used that minimized body hair. But still…

You wished, like you had more than once, that you could be better for him.

You're trying to swallow that horrid ugly little thought back down when your door opens, Poe not bothering to knock this time. Barges in, and he seems a bit more like himself in that moment.

His hair has gone back to his natural curls, thick and bouncing, dripping and the navy, loose materialed sleep clothes hang on him. Dont cling to him with dirt and sweat...all and all, he looks so much better.

Or so you think. Until you see him in the right light, his top falling open and revealing his chest.

“Poe!” You exclaim and his thick brows furrow, he had been drying his hair with one of your spare towels.

“What?”

“Take off your shirt” You demand and one side of his lips pull up- a smirk that doesn't meet his eyes.

“You know if you ask me nicely, sweetheart, I’ll give you whatever you want” It’s a purr, a ploy. Many a person- male, female and Wookiee had fallen for that charm of his. Your own name thrown in that pot.

But he was hurt, had to be in pain, and that thought cut through the others that that coy tone had stirred up.

“I’m serious, that bruising looks deep- why didn't you show me this earlier? You could have internal bleeding! Something could be broken”

Poe would never let it be known, would deny it to the ends of the galaxy...but he loves the way you fret over him. It makes him feel warm.

“Okay- Okay!” He sighs as you start to reach for him demandingly, knowing that you'd pull it off yourself if he didn't. There's a handful of winces as he tugs the fabric up and over his shoulders. You’re silent the whole time, and then for a long moment after.

“Oh...baby”

It’s the first time you've called him that tonight. In weeks. The first time an affectionate name has slipped from your mouth.

You can't help it, can't help the overwhelming feeling of...horror. Of shock and worry. His tanned chest and abdomen are hard, dusted with ebony hair that matches that of which grows from his scalp...and covered in bruises.

Four huge patches of yellow, and black and purple and blue...he looks like a fucking water color painting. You’d seen him in some pretty bad states over the years, and this was up there with some of the worst. The worst? Well you didn't like to think about that particular bloody day.

You reach out, fingertips tracing the purple bloom on his left ribs.

“It’s not so bad” And that’s Poe in a nutshell. Always trying to convince not only the people around him, but himself, that things were going to be okay.

“That one’s a deep tissue bruise” You point out to him, fingers gently probing, trying to detect if anything is broken “It has to hurt like a bitch, it’s going to get worse before it feels better”

“Not so bad” He loves the way you're touching him, and his hand, that big paw, goes to our waist. Holding you. Urging you to keep going “Those painkillers are something else”

You snort through your nose. He’s something else- you tell him of that fact, often.

Poe can only be so patient, can only allow you to touch him, feather light, for so long. Eventually, his impulses win out. Just like the always do.

You’re almost done, checking his bones, when he grabs your hand, envelopes it in his large one. It’s still for a moment- the air sparkling with energy. His eyes are mahogany, dark wood. Deep forests as they stare down at you.

The want in them is raw, unbridled.

“I missed you, so fucking much. Every day. Have I told you that yet?” His words, mixed with the timbre- vehement. Honest. It makes you want to squirm.

“No- you haven't” You wish your voice at that moment wasn't so anxious, weak and almost a whisper. Something about Poe had always brought this out in you. He was so bright, beaming. Everyone around him flocked to him, in hopes of just being able to taste a fraction of his light.

Sometimes, you still couldn't believe that he let you fill your cup, that he sought you out, parted the crowd for you.

You had never been a weak woman; had never let your weight or your too loud opinions or your tendencies to be overly emotional make you feel small, or less then...but being with Poe-- the level of intimacy was suffocating.

You felt burned up. Icarus who flew too close to the sun, who willing allowed himself to be burned up just to feel its warmth for a moment...you could relate.

“I did” Poe continues “I missed the way you feel, the way you taste-”

You close your eyes at that, images of the last time you’d gotten a moment alone with him, of a head of dark curls between your legs, assaulting you. Smacking you right in the face.

“-You taste so good, Y/N. Should've bent you over when you came to say goodbye. You would've let me, huh? Let me get one more taste- you have no idea how bad I want to stick my tongue inside of you. All the time. No one else gets to taste, right?”

Poe is well on his way to being rock hard, already. It had taken all of him to not jerk off in the showers.

“No one, Poe. You know that” you’d meant to tell him to fuck off, that you didn't belong to him. That he couldn't just have you whenever he wanted you. That came out instead.

“I need you” He tells you, roughly “feel how bad I need you, Y/N, fuck” he still has your hand in his grasp, againts his chest. When he begins to slide it downward, you know where its destination will be.

That doesn't stop the thrill, the flip flop of our tummy that comes with Poe pressing your hand to his crotch, hard and hot. The thin pants the only layer between your palm and his erection.

“You’re the only one who gets me like this, I need you to make it better, Y/N”

The switch is flipped then. Hard.

You’re surging forward, and he's meeting you halfway, your mouths slotting together. Lips and tongue, so much tongue. He talks all about how you taste, but stars, the way he tastes is intoxicating. Want to suck the taste of him off his tongue, off his cock.

Its blurry and ferocious. Hands everywhere. Touching, grabbing. While you are gentle with him and his tattered body, he doesn't extend that same sentiment. He’s groping, fingertips bidding into flesh. Groaning into your mouth as he clutches your thick, dimpled thighs. Reaches around to squeeze our ample ass.

Best ass in the galaxy, he'd write fucking sonnets about it, if he was good at anything but flying.

Clothes are shed, way too fast you worn Poe who doesn't listen. Because he never does- and he ends up hissing in pain, and relenting, sitting on the cot and letting you take off his pants. Slowly. You make it up to him by standing over him, grabbing his hands and guiding them to strip you. Slow drags of fabric over supple skin.

You’re so fucking sexy, and he tells you so as he urges you into his lap, you stay on your shins to mind his middle. Poe worships with his words. His fingers and lips do their fair share of praying next.

“Fuck I missed these the most” your breasts are large, heavy globes. Puffy sweet nipples are pebbled and just begging to be sucked on. He licks them messy, wet before he does just that; sucks them into the hot cavern of his mouth.

“Oh, oh, ugh” Your hands are twined in his hair, dripping down onto his thighs already, when Poe feels the wetness drip on him, his fingers go searching, hand pressed in between your thighs. Fingers slipping through sopping, heated flesh. You grasp, a high sound as he presses up and circles your clit, firm and pointed.

It’s so good, pleasure shoots down your legs, all the way to the tips of your toes.

It’s not enough. For either of you.

“Poe, fuck. Please” He’s injured, and you know it hurts him to do, and you should scold him for it, but when he manhandles you, flips you easily onto your back to that he can climb on top and situates himself between your thighs-

It’s just as hot as it always is. You know you have to be dripping down onto the cot, can feel your slick covering your thighs, slipping down your crack.

Kiss, Kiss and Kiss and Kiss and Kiss and…

You get lost in it, caught up in the way his stubble burns. His fingers slide back inside you and he watches your face as he crooks them, pumps them fast. Finger fucks you until you’re sobbing, letting out animal sounds.

“Do you still have the implant” he pants, head swimming. He gets like this when you let him make you feel good- wants to go down on you, but wants to be inside you even more.

“No, I took it out in the last few weeks” You’re cheeky, even with his fingers burried inside you. He loves that about you, “Of course I do, Poe”

You’d be damned before you ever brought a child into this world.

Poe holds your thighs wide, staring between them, your pussy wet and clenching around nothing. You’re so vulnerable for him, it makes you dizzy. He lines himself up, clock head dipping into your slit, resting against your hole, when thrusts inside of you it’s in one fluid movement.

You mewl, so full it’s hard to breathe and Poe makes a punched out sound. Like he’d been shot by a blaster in the chest and his hips start undulating, needing to be deeper. It feels so right inside of you. Feels safe. He wants to tear into your softness, rip you open and nestle inside. Settle himself in your bones.

You let him take what he needs, how ever he needs it. On your back, on your hands and knees. You bounce on his cock when he gets to achy,letting him run his hands all over your tummy, sides, breasts.

He can have it all.

After, the two of you lay spent, cuddled tight to one and other in the small cot. Standard issue thrown over your naked bodies, the sound of the rain starting up again mixed with Poes breathing is a lullaby you hadn't known you needed.

This...thing between you might have started as a way for both of you to numb the pain. To seek support. But it was more now. You were so in love with him that it made your eyes sting if you thought about it for too long.

“You’ll always come back to me, right?” Its so, so timid that he almost doesn't catch it and you almost hope he’d miss it.

Poe does what he always does; tries to convince you both that it’s going to be okay.

“Always”

You let yourself believe him.

Well I wasn't expecting this to turn into pure porn, but here we are lmfao. I loved writing for Poe and there will definitely be more of him coming soon! If you are able- listening to All I Need by Radiohead and the Hot Like Fire cover by the XX really sets the tone for this. I actually dropped a line from hot like fire in this- who can point it out?lol

As usual, I'm going to ask that if you can please give me some feedback. I truly love interacting with my readers and would love to hear your thoughts and opinions.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x plus size reader #poe dameron smut #poe dameron x reader #star wars #oscar issac

791 notes · View notes

captainamericasbeard · 5 years

Text

Rescue 2/10

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Enhanced!Omega!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: needles, that’s it really

Summary: The Avengers are sent in to rescue a group of omegas from the hands of Hydra. There Bucky finds you, an enhanced omega. Can you ever be fully rescued from what Hydra has done to you?

A/N: Here’s chapter 2! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. I was blown away by the response to the first chapter. Please keep up the interaction, it is such a source of encouragement. Once again this is dedicated to @all1e23 for being a constant source of inspiration.

Please send an ask or message if you want to be tagged! :)

Chapter 1 l Masterlist

Bucky scooped you up into his arms and started sprinting back to the quintet, shouting over the comms as he went.

“I have an omega here who’s dying! I’m getting her to the jet.” He cried frantically, hoping someone was listening.

“What happened Buck?” Steve grunted. They were clearly still fighting back Hydra agents.

“I killed her alpha. I didn’t know they were bonded.” Bucky’s voice was thick with guilt at being responsible for your current condition. He could care less about your dead alpha but his chest felt like it was being crushed at the thought of something happening to you.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Asked Sam

“If an omega has been bonded for a long time and their alpha is killed suddenly or violently the loss of their bond mate can actually kill them. It’s rare but it does happen.” Natasha informed Sam over comms.

“Steve, there’s still omegas down there but I have to get her to Bruce. I’ll send Shield to come pick you guys up.” Bucky said hurriedly, hoping the team would understand his abandoning them.

“That’s fine Bucky, do what you have to do. We don’t want to lose anyone.” Steve said.

Bucky burst through the compound door and into the melee.

“Cover me!” He cried. Sam launched towards him and covered him from above, taking out agents until Bucky reached the ramp of the jet. Bucky threw himself inside and gingerly laid you on one of the small bunks. He dashed over to the computer and hailed Bruce.

“Bruce! You there Bruce, we have an injured Omega, I don’t know what to do.” Bucky could feel his panic rising. There was no answer and he looked over his shoulder at you lying limp and groaning faintly. The color had drained from your cheeks and Bucky could hear your breathing and heartbeat growing faint. Finally Bruce’s face appeared on the holoscreen in front of Bucky.

“Bucky, what’s going on?” The doctor asked urgently.

“I have an omega whose waning fast. She’s not going to make it to the compound, what do I do!?” Bucky demanded as he could hear you groaning behind him.

“There is a case of suppressants in the med locker. Give her 50ccs and get here right away. We’ll have to put her in the cradle.” Bucky was rushing over to the locker before Bruce could finish speaking. He found the small black zip up pouch labeled suppressants and pulled a clean, packaged syringe from the drawer. Ripping the package open with his teeth he carefully drew the dose Bruce told him and plunged the syringe until there was no more air left in the needle.

“Put it in her thigh, Bucky” said Bruce, who had been watching from the monitor. Bucky ripped the thin linen pants you were dressed in and quickly swiped your thigh with an alcohol wipe. He sank the needle into your leg and pressed the plunger all the way down. You hissed a breath and your eyes fluttered open, filled with fear.

“What did you do to me?” You croaked horsely as you tried to move away from Bucky. He tossed the syringe aside and calmly held your shoulders. You squirmed beneath him, trying to get away until his overwhelming scent filled your head again. You breathed deep and let out a sigh, visibly relaxing.

“There you go honey. Try and relax. I gave you some suppressants to try and stop your waning. I’m so so sorry I shot your alpha. I had no idea what it would do to you.” Bucky’s voice was filled with pain as he apologized. You looked at him in wonder that any alpha would say sorry to an omega for anything.

“He wasn’t my alpha. Not really.” You mumble your eyes closing once again. Bucky could hear your heartbeat was still faint.

“I gotta get us in the air, can you stay with me while I do that?” Bucky was nervous to leave your side for even a moment. “What’s your name?” He asked, trying to keep you talking as he moved to the pilot’s seat.

“Y/N.” You mumble. Bucky punched in the coordinates for the compound and raised the ramp of the jet.

“Y/N what? You got a last name? Maybe we can find your family.” Bucky was desperate to keep you talking as the jet rose into the air, quickly leaving the base behind them. He put the jet on autopilot and swiveled his seat around to find you laying limp and slack jawed. Bucky rushed over to you and shook your shoulders. Your eyes snapped open and your hand fumbled around looking for Bucky’s. He took it tenderly, letting you feel his closeness.

“What’d you say?” You ask softly

“I said what’s your last name? Maybe we can find your parents.” Bucky replied, keeping his voice low. Pain shot through your body and you grimaced. Bucky stroked your hair to try and calm you.

“I don’t remember my last name. My parents are dead. They were killed by Hydra.” You let a few tears slip as you remembered that painful day. It was so long ago but the memory was still fresh. “They were gunned down by an alpha that just wanted to take whatever he could.” Distrust filled your eyes as you looked at the alpha hovering over you. You pulled your hand from his grasp and moved into the corner of the bunk. You’d allowed this intoxicating alpha to become too familiar. Sure he was currently trying to save your life, but what next? What would he try to take from you or force on you once you were healed. His scent filled you up and made you beg to submit to him but that was just biology. You couldn’t trust an alpha, especially not one you now owed the debt of your life to.

Bucky sensed the distance you were trying to create between the two of you and leaned back in his seat, folding his arms. Your beautiful scent was now tinged with panic and he wanted to find a way to put you at ease. He never wanted to be the source of your discomfort. All his alpha urges were crying out to protect you, however he could.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’m just trying to keep you safe. Go ahead and rest and I’ll make sure you make it to the compound where Bruce is gonna take care of you. Don’t worry, he’s a beta.” Bucky’s words were so kind and soft it baffled you. Here he was apologizing to you again. And you nearly keen at the thought of him wanting to keep you safe. That’s all you’ve ever wanted from an alpha and the one thing you never got. Your alpha had constantly handed you over to the people who harmed you. Your heart hardened at the memory and you beat down you feelings toward Bucky. But you couldn’t resist the offer for rest. Your eyes grew heavy at the mere suggestion of it. You wanted to fight it but you just couldn’t.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl, I won’t lay a finger on you. I’m just gonna keep an eye on you, make sure you’re still breathing. Gotta get you to the doctor in one piece.” At his promise you crossed your arms and let sleep claim you. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you did feel safe with the man sitting in front of you. You clung to the safety of his scent as you drifted off. Bucky watched your features soften as you drifted off. The hard lines born out of years of torture faded away as you strayed into a dreamless sleep.

Bucky couldn’t help wonder how someone who had endured what you had could still be so beautiful. It wasn’t just your y/e/c eyes or the slope of your nose or your full lips. It was something that radiated out of you, a strength and a hope in the face of dire circumstances that made you so attractive. As you lay sleeping your scent filled the cabin and wrapped itself around Bucky. It was irresistible, lavender now mixed with something else. Was that honeysuckle? You smelled like a riotous garden on a hot summer day. Bucky inhaled deeply and felt his whole body relax. Soon he drifted off in his seat as the jet hurried them to the compound. _______________________________________________________________________

Two things stirred Bucky from his sleep- the first was FRIDAY’s insistent voice informing him that they were rapidly coming up on the compound. The second was the sense that your vitals were dropping again. Your heartbeat had grown soft again and your breathing was shallow. Bucky looked at you and could see pain etched across the lines of your face as sweat peppered your forehead. Your body had tightened and your sleep grown fitful as the pain grew in your body again. The suppressants had helped but they could not keep your waning fully at bay. You were still in danger. Bucky cursed himself for drifting off. He moved himself to the pilot’s seat, taking command of the controls. The compound was rapidly approaching. He punched into the intercom and hailed Bruce again.

“Coming in hot Banner. She’s not doing so good. You got that cradle ready?” Bucky asked tensely.

“We’re ready and waiting for you on the launch pad. Cradle’s hot and ready to go,” Bruce reassured him, his voice steady. Bruce always was the calm in the storm when people were injured. Even though medicine wasn’t his specialty, he’d surrounded himself with some of the best minds in the country to build a state of the art med bay.

Bucky squinted and could make out the figures standing in white lab coats with what appeared to be a stretcher in between them. He flew lower and lower and eventually lightly landed on the launch pad. He threw open the hatch as the med team ran in with the stretcher and lifted your prone form onto it. Bucky had to suppress a growl in his chest as he watched others touch you in your frail state. Get a grip Barnes, he thought to himself as he rubbed his hand down his face.

Refusing to let you out of his sight he followed the team into the med bay. By the time he reached you again you had already had your clothes cut off you and been lowered into the regeneration cradle. Bucky growled again at the sight of you exposed to all these people and he clenched his fists while reminding himself that these people were saving your life.

“Calm down there Barnes or I’ll have to throw you out.” Bruce warned. Knowing he could if he wanted to, Barnes took a deep breath of your scent and let it calm him. The team were attaching sensors to your chest and forehead.

“How does it work?” Bucky asked, stepping out of the way of one of the lab techs.

“Waning is like a cycle, like your rut or an omega’s heat. It cycles through the body and then it passes. But during a waning vital organs begin to shut down, brain function is affected, all of it. The cradle will act as life support- regenerating her organs, maintaining brain function, it’ll even keep her hydrated. Once her waning stops we’ll take her out and she’ll be good as new. We monitor her brain function so we know when she’s in the clear.” Bruce chatted away as he worked. He loved having someone to explain things to.

“So it’ll take a couple of days?” Bucky asked.

“At least.” Bruce replied. Bucky stalked out of the room and came back a few moments later dragging one of the chairs from the lab. He set it at the foot of the cradle and sat down in it, arms folded across his broad chest and ankles crossed in front of him. He stared Bruce down as if daring him to challenge his presence in the lab.

“Ok Barnes, just don’t touch anything.” Bucky gave a sharp nod of assent and watched as the lab techs lowered the cover over your body. He watched your face as it disappeared, wondering what could be possible once you wake up. The cradle sealed and whirred to life and all Bucky could do is regret the loss of your scent and wait for the morning.

Chapter 3

_______________________________________________________________________

Taglist:

Italics means I couldn’t tag you. Make sure you are searchable

@fanfictionjunkie1112 @kiki5283 @humanexile @starkrobb @alyxkbrl @momc95 @bullshitantichrist @the-omni-princess @littlelonewolfgirl @carlya65 @animegirlgeeky @acf2510

#Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #alpha bucky barnes #alpha buck #alpha bucky #alpha bucky barnes x reader #abo #alpha x omega

518 notes · View notes

glmrocks · 3 years

Text

* kissing meme • ACCEPTING

↪ @mortalis whispered ; dying kiss.

it had happened so quickly, sam wasn’t even a hundred percent sure of what he SAW. maybe she had sensed it, maybe sam just didn’t see it coming like she had — god, he doesn’t know. he doesn’t know how it happened, all that matters is that is DID and sam doesn’t know what to fucking do. a partiuclarly n a s t y spirit had tossed her so carelessly across the cabin — becoming the new target that was originally meant for HIM, taking that bullet for him without even having to think about it.

why would she DO that ? !

the spirit has seemed to quiet down now, content with the havoc it has caused on the two intruders — and sam is practically tripping over his own FEET trying to get to her side. ❝ jesus christ, are you okay ? ❞ he tries not to sound panicked, checking over her body for any IMMEDIATE wounds — none seem to immediately stick out to him, and sam feels a breath of relief washing over his body . . . untill he tries to move her, and the sharp cry she lets out stops sam dead in his tracks.

she must be in shock, that must be why she didn’t immediately realize what was actually wrong. his stomach tightens up at the piece of rebar that protrudes from her g u t, and sam feels like he’s gonna be sick. ❝ oh, fuck. ❞ is all that he’s able to manage. he’s only been in med school for a YEAR now, what the hell is he supposed to do ? ! they hadn’t covered this in his classes yet, not to mention they’re in the middle of nowhere. ❝ jesus fucking christ, ❞ bile THREATENS to rise in his throat, sam fighting to swallow it down as the reality of the situation weighs heavy on him — there is nothing he can do for her. she’s bleeding so much ( he’s thinking maybe it’s gone through an organ, or a major artery ), they’re in a cabin in the middle of nowhere ; it took them forty minutes of going in circles just to find this place — there’s no way in hell that help is going to arrive before she’s gone . . . he can’t pull her off of the rebar or that’s just gonna make matters w o r s e. he’s frantically grabbing for his phone, only to realize there’s no signal out here. ❝ w - what do i d o ? ❞ he’s PLEADING with her, as if des will have an answer for him.

he’s so fucking s c a r e d, and he doesn’t WANT to accept it, but she’s gripping onto his shirt so tightly — and he can see the panic in h e r eyes too. ❝ you’re okay, you’re okay. you’re gonna be okay. ❞ his voice cracks as he says it, and he doesn’t know if he’s trying to comfort her or himself. he’s yanking off his hoodie, to put pressure on the wound — face twisting up at the CRY she lets out. ❝ i’m sorry, i’m sorry. ❞ his eyes finally lift up to her face, mouth feels DRY at the sight of her — the blood she coughs up, the death grip she’s got on his arm. ❝ you’re gonna be okay, baby. ❞ inked fingers wipe the blood from her lips, resting his forehead against hers. there’s nothing he can do. there’s nothing sam can do except BE HERE.

fingers continue to stroke her skin, sam peppering kisses against her cheeks — can taste the salt from her tears and the grime of dirt layered into her skin ; she tells him it h u r t s, and all sam manages out is, ❝ i know, baby. i know. i’m right here okay. ❞ his free hand comes back down to press his sweater against the wound, ignores the way his hands shake as they coat themselves in her blood. jesus christ, there’s just so much blood. ❝ i - i’m right here, baby. i’m right here, it’s okay. ❞ his face twists up, a shaky exhale leaving his lips as he looks down at des.

she’s yanking on him again, though this time her grip is not as strong — she’s trying to pull him closer, and sam moves with the action fluidly. desdemona is kissing him, and sam doesn’t shy away from the blood in her mouth — that STRONG iron taste as he holds her, fingers cradling her face. ❝ ‘s gonna be okay. it’s gonna be okay, i - i’m not going anywhere. ❞ he will be here when she takes her last breath, when her grip on him finally goes limp. ❝ and then i’m gonna find you, okay ? i’m gonna take everything you taught me . . . and i’m gonna find you. ❞ another kiss is pressed to her lips, sam resting his forehead against hers once again.

and he stayed. he stayed till the very bitter end, sat beside her for hours until she sucked in her last breath, and sam felt his stomach tighten up when she never exhaled it. he doesn’t know how long he sat there even after she was gone, her blood all over his hands and the tears dried into his skin. one hour. two hours. three hours. four hours turned to five, until finally he decided that he can’t stay here — and that he won’t leave her here. sam can barely stand on his own two legs, the urge to throw up growing stronger the more he looks at her body. he lifts her from the floorboards, blood that has now turned black and sludge - like spilling from the cavity in her abdomen. ❝ it should’ve been me . . . fuck, it should’ve been me. ❞ she’s so cold, and heavy — but he can’t let her rot here. he’d never forgive himself . . . she deserves to be home. ❝ i’m so fucking sorry, des. ❞ his grip on her tightens, pushing his way out of the cabin as he presses a kiss to her cooling skin. it should’ve been him.

#( * answered . )#( * v; paranormalities . )#&. mortalis #death tw #hey bestie.... i'm not doing so good <3 #i'm fucking crying <3 #like this shit HURTED.

3 notes · View notes

rorynne · 5 years

Text

Touch

Pairing: Bucky/Reader

Summary: Request: a fic where the reader really hates being touched by someone they’re not close with and all the Avengers learn about it. Except they only accept being touched by people they’re close with or someone they like and that’s how one of the Avengers realises the reader likes them. You can do it with whoever, i know it’ll be great anyway! -Anon

Warnings: None as far as I know, its just Rory Brand Fluff.

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: It should not have taken me 8 hours to type up 1.8k words from a notebook. ADHD handed my ass to me tonight

Masterlist

It was no secret that you didn't like to be touched, hated it even. You did everything in your power to avoid it. The only time you would even tolerate it was from friends, and even then it was just that, tolerating. Most people didn't understand it, they usually just wrote you off as being snobby, or maybe just a germaphobe. What they didn't get was just how much unwanted contact hurt. It was easier to manage with friends, but just one small touch from a stranger was enough to make you completely unable to speak for the rest of the day, or worse, have a complete breakdown from the sensation.

The Avengers understood though, or at the very least, they accepted without judgment. They each had their fair share of quirks and needs, and to them, your touch avoidance was no different. It was honestly a blessing to be working for them. You provided them with ground support and helped repair their gear. They provided you with moral support and freedom from unwanted contact. Of course, they weren't perfect, every so often someone might accidentally bump into you, or excitedly clap a hand on your shoulder without asking first. But that was okay, you could tolerate it from them. Especially when they did their best to make you feel included in the team in any way that they could, more than anyone else had done for you in the past.

No doubt that desire to include you was exactly what brought Steve to your workbench in the lab, a long-haired man following close behind, not unlike a confused puppy. You had glanced up from your current project as they approached, Steve radiating his typical golden retriever-like aura, while the man behind him looked none too happy to actually be there. "Y/N! I'm glad I found you. I wanted to introduce Bucky yo everyone he hasn't had the chance to meet yet."

Bucky shifted slightly uncomfortably on his feet as he gave you an awkward smile and held his hand out to you. “Glad to meet you.” You glanced at his hand and grimaced mentally. Steve had spent months talking about Bucky and the progress he was making, Steve was beyond excited to have his best friend back and on the team, but Bucky was still a stranger to you. Your grip tightened around your wrench and you glanced over at Steve.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Bucky.” You said, leaving his hand unshaken, instead, giving him a polite smile. Steve immediately jumped into action, whispering something, likely an explanation, into Bucky’s ear.

Bucky’s eyes went wide and his face went red as he dropped his hand. “Sorry.” He mumbled out quickly and something in your heart squeezed.

“No, it’s fine.” You reassured, “You couldn’t have known.”

He nodded and cleared his throat, “For what it's worth, I'm not a big fan of touching people either.” Your heart gave another squeeze and you weren’t quite sure why. His aversion to touch made sense, you recalled Steve explaining the things that had happened to him.

"We have something in common then." You said setting your wrench down on the table in front of you. "Luckily everyone here is very understanding about it."

He smiled, and for a moment your brain completely blanked as you saw the was his smile made the skin crinkle adorably around his eyes. He was attractive, there was no denying that, but honestly, something about his smile was special. "I'm glad to hear that," he said softly before pointing at the device on your work table. "What are you working on anyway?"

You blinked before looking down at what he was pointing at. "Oh! This is the Maximum Operational Radius Support Aerobot or MORSA. Tony came up with the name, I like to call him Moe for short. He's like redwing, Sam's drone? But more support focused than combat focused. He's my eyes in the sky, he's great. I wouldn't be able to be nearly as much help without him. Time to wake up Moe." You said, tapping the drone twice. It burst to life, hovering a few inches above the table, albeit as a noticeable angle. You winced at Moe's lopsided hovering, but Bucky seemed enthralled. "He isn't usually so…. Wonky. He got damaged by an explosion a few missions ago and I only just got him flying again. I'm sure Wakanda has things way more advanced but…" you trailed off as Bucky shook his head.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked, circling around for a better look. You almost didn’t notice his hand accidentally brushing against your arm as he moved past you, but to your surprise, it didn’t feel unpleasant. “It’s like that car Stark showed off in ‘43. You remember that Stevie?”

Steve seemed almost surprised as he watched Bucky gush over the drone, you would have never been able to guess that he had been begging Steve to not bother introducing him to anyone not even half an hour before. “The one that crashed to the ground?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Listen Punk, don’t even pretend to act like you stuck around long enough to see that.”

You bit your lip to fight the urge to laugh. You would have never expected the Winter Soldier to be a science nerd. “I did base Moe’s propulsion system off Howard Stark’s flying car propulsion designs, though I reworked them to be more efficient and a bit faster. When they’re properly adjusted at least.” You finished by tapping the drone again and it gently lowered onto the table before turning off.

“That’s absolutely amazing,” Bucky said rubbing his jaw. “What else does it do?” You grinned as you began to explain Moe’s functions in detail, Bucky clinging to your every word. Neither of you noticed as Steve quietly slipped away, grinning like a Cheshire cat. It was rare for either of you to take so quickly to someone, and he wasn’t about to do anything to draw your attention to it. He could finish introducing Bucky to everyone tomorrow.

From that day, your friendship with Bucky was easy and fun. You both just seemed to click in a way you had never experienced with someone before. He would spend hours in the lab while you worked, talking to you about anything and everything that he could think of. You wouldn’t shy away from him on the extremely rare times he would accidentally touch or brush against you. Strangely, you actually found yourself liking his touch and, for that matter, him.

Actually, saying you liked Bucky was probably the understatement of the century. You were absolutely head-over-heels for him. You didn’t have a damn clue how you managed to fall so hard for him, especially when it didn’t even feel like falling at all. You could barely even focus if he wasn’t there. You had grown so used to his presence that when he was on missions the entire tower seemed to feel empty.

Which was where you found yourself right now. You tinkered aimlessly on your gadget, there were countless repairs you should be doing, but you just couldn’t motivate yourself to do any of them. Bucky had been on a mission for the last two weeks, the longest he had been away since he joined. You had no idea what to do with yourself as you pulled yourself through the paces of adjusting Moe's propulsion system. You were waiting for FRIDAY to inform you of Bucky's return, just like she always did the moment he came back. You couldn't wait to greet him as he got off the quinjet. At least then you could stop worrying so much and get some work done.

"Y/N, FRIDAY's voice echoed through the lab. Your heart soared as you looked up toward the ceiling at the disembodied voice. "Sergeant Barnes has just landed, he's been rushed to the med bay." And just like that, your heart crashed to the ground. Something fell to the ground with a loud bang as you jumped up, but you didn't care to see what it was as you rushed out of the lab.

You ran as fast as your feet would carry you as you hurried to the med bay. Horror stories played through your head as you pushed through the doors. You paid no mind to the nurses yelling for you to slow down as you searched for Bucky.

Your lungs bere burning when you found him being stitched up by Bruce, talking to Steve. Relief hit you like a tidal wave. He was okay. Bruce had just finished Bucky’s stitches when you threw your arms around Bucky. You hadn’t even thought about the contact, you were just so happy that he was okay. You only realized it when you felt a cool arm wrap around your waist.

“Don’t cry Doll.” He said softly, tightening his arms around you. You hadn’t even noticed you were crying until he pointed it out. “I’m okay. The bullet only grazed me. I promise I’m okay.” He reassured you, his hand stroking your hair. Being held by him was probably the nicest thing you’ve ever felt.

You took a deep, shaky breath as your tears slowed. You nodded as you pulled away from him, smiling weakly. Bruce and Steve stared in disbelief as they watched you. You had never so much as willingly shook someone's had, let alone hug them, and yet there you were with your arms wrapped around Bucky’s neck. Bucky ignored them, pulling you back into him, touching his forehead to yours. You sniffled, “FRIDAY said-”

“I know Doll. It’s okay. Are you?”

You swallowed and nodded again. You had never been so close to him before, but honestly, it felt right, it put your mind at ease in ways you severely needed right now. He was so important to you, and you were so scared you might have lost him. Especially before you could tell him just how important he was. You took a deep breath, filled with a sudden resolve, “I love you.” You finally said, bracing him for his response.

Tears threatened in your eyes again when he laughed. “Doll, I figured that out when you hugged me.” He brushed away a tear welling in your eye with his thumb. “And I love you too.” The breath caught in your throat and you choked out a sobbing laugh. “Want to talk about this over milkshakes?”

“I’d love to.” You smiled with a big sniffle.

“As sweet as this is.” Bruce cut in. “I need to finish bandaging Bucky up before you two try to take off.” You both pulled apart to see Bruce holding up gauze and bandages.

Bucky smiled that smile you had come to love so dearly before kissing your forehead. “Go get ready, Doll. I’ll pick you up in 10.” You nodded, giving him one last hug before leaving. You really could get used that feeling.

Taglist:

@part-time-prefect @anxiousamandapanda

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #avengers x reader #avengers #avengers request #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #marvel fic #marvel

416 notes · View notes

cinnaminsvga · 5 years

Text

fox rain | one

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. seokjin) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none unless you count overly graphic descriptions of how stupid seokjin is (i’m sorry for always making him so dumb) → words: 10.4K → a/n: i know i say this a lot, but this literally the STUPIDEST thing i’ve ever written in my life. i’ve lost maybe ten braincells per word in this fic, and i’m proud of it gdi!! some of my best jokes are in this mess, and that’s saying a lot considering my whole life is a joke. also: check bio for the chapter links for now!

— • masterlist | prev | one | next • —

When you feel yourself awakening, for a moment, you think you might have been hungover. The usual disembodiment you feel after a night out of drinking is what greets you when the last dredges of sleep start to fade out of your periphery, added with the insatiable urge to piss the equivalent of the volume of the Atlantic Ocean. There are weights over your eyes, you surmise, because there is no way you will be able to open them long enough to see whether you were actually dead.

But of course, you are still subjected to the curse of human curiosity, which allows you to gather enough strength to squint blearily and access your current surroundings.

You are greeted by the sight of unfamiliar overhead lights and sterile white walls. The window just to your left shows the darkened sky, the moon creeping just behind the evergreen trees. Groaning slightly, you push yourself into a sitting position, a sudden wave of vertigo slamming into you like a supernova. As you survey the room some more, you notice the sound of muffled conversation going on behind the nearby sheer curtain, and the smell of antiseptic wafts its way into your nostrils. You’re in the nurse’s office, you realize belatedly, grasping the threadbare sheets of your university’s barebones version of a hospital bed.

You put your head into your hands, breathing deeply as you try to remember the last thing that happened to you.

Yoongi’s dick. The stupid e-mail. The poem. The conspiracy group. Seokjin on a pedestal giving a TedTalk about himself. Yoongi’s dick. Namboob. Fainting in the utility closet. Yoongi’s dick.

The mental gymnastics that your brain is currently undergoing elicits a sound akin to a dying squirrel from your open mouth, and it must have sounded terribly loud and unnerving because the nurse bursts into the room just a few seconds after. The nurse, who must have been an underpaid med student by the looks of the designer purple handbags decorating her sullen cheeks, looks at you with less genuine concern and more acute abhorrence.

In your drowsiness, you don’t realize that your throat had somehow converted into the Sahara desert when you had fainted, so you are just as surprised as the nurse when you start doing a wonderful impersonation of Sadako instead.

“Hoo bwat meh hey?” you articulate, your tongue feeling like an oversized fist trying to work its way from out of your larynx. At the very least, no one can blame you for not trying your best to sound coherent. Seeing your struggle, the apathetic nurse has the decency to reach behind one of the shelves and hand you a cup of water. You grab it from her, gulping the entire thing in one go all while you proceed to not care about the rivulets of water and drool trailing down your chin and onto your crotch.

“Sorry,” you say, not really knowing why you were apologizing in the first place. Perhaps for existing? “I was trying to ask who brought me here.”

The nurse, unsurprisingly, only gives you an indifferent shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t know. Some gray-haired twink came in with you on his back. Apparently, you fainted in front of him for no reason, and when we checked your vitals, everything seemed to be fine.” She gestures at your ragged form, almost as if she didn’t believe that they hadn’t found anything wrong with you. You are obliged to share her sentiments.

“You’re free to leave whenever you want. Just make sure to sleep more and eat. University is tough on kids like you,” she says, turning to leave without another look in your direction. Somehow, you feel insulted even though the nurse hadn’t really done anything to you. Perhaps her lack of concern for your mental wellness and the fact that your newly acquired PTSD after today’s events only warranted “a good night’s sleep” as a form of treatment. Ah, the woes of having zero healthcare. Regardless, you decide to take her up on her advice and head home in hopes of acquiring some semblance of sleep after today’s traumatic episode.

Exiting the clinic, you find that almost no one is left on campus, save for the occasional student on their way to their evening classes. Being at your university during the evening had always been an odd sensation for you, as it reminds you of all the nighttime finals you have had to take in the past. Whenever the sun set and darkness enveloped the campus, it is always a given that you would be able to hear someone shouting obscenities from somewhere in the distance, especially since your university is well-known for the bars and clubs that litter its outskirts. Nonetheless, you hopelessly pray that you won’t pass by any drunk college kids, especially on this Friday night.

Just as you are about to cross the street to get to your bus stop, you notice a familiar face waiting by the entrance of the clinic. You backtrack, staring at the back of her head as she inconspicuously tries to peer into the curtained windows like some sort of pervert. Knowing her, your assumption probably isn’t that far off.

You approach her quietly, carrying your footsteps so that she doesn’t hear you until you place your mouth just beside her ear. Even at this proximity, she is none the wiser to your presence. You blow gently against her neck, whispering, “Sera. What the hell are you doing?”

As expected, she shrieks at you in surprise, almost landing a karate-chop on your face but you are saved by the fact that she had as much hand-eye coordination as a dead man in a coffin. You step back as you watch her slice through the air for another few seconds, her gaze wild before they finally land on your smirking face. Realizing that she had overreacted, she straightens up in a huff, glaring at you with as much annoyance as she can muster (but really, who can stay angry at your cute face for long?)

“Trying to look for that hot doctor again?” You joke, peering inquisitively at her hunched form. You wouldn’t be surprised to find a pair of binoculars behind her back at this point, given by how many times you’ve caught her “observing” potential boyfriends.

“How dare––!” She splutters, ears turning red from your accusation. When she shifts slightly, you notice a black object passing through her hands and trying to covertly slip into her bag. Ah. The binoculars.

“How dare I what? Accuse you of stalking a poor med student who is probably overdosing on Adderall as we speak? Oh, sorry for overstepping my boundaries,” you drawl, grinning at her affronted expression. “Unless, of course, you happened to hear about me fainting this afternoon and you wanted to offer me a ride home? Since you’re such a good friend, after all?

She looks at you, alarmed. “You fainted? When? How?”

“Oh, so now you’re concerned. I could’ve died with the image of Min Yoongi’s penis tattooed under the backs of my eyelids, and my best friend never would’ve known… Who, then, would avenge me and clear my name? Who, then, would take care of my growing collection of scantily clad women figurines––?”

“Did you just say you saw Min Yoongi’s penis? Holy shit!” Sera shrieks, eyes bugging out of their sockets. You are sure everyone within a 5 mile radius must’ve heard her, but you didn’t even have the energy to be mortified. Death always did sound like a great vacation idea, anyway.

“Sure, just scream it out for everyone to hear. Maybe we can get him to come back and do it again so you won’t think I’m crazy,” you mutter, grabbing Sera by the sleeve and tugging her towards the parking lot. “You brought your car, right? Bring me home.”

“Jeez, you drop this major bomb on me as if you were just talking about your cat taking a shit on your bed or something, and now you’re ordering me to bring you home? Cheeky,” Sera huffs, but she lets you drag her regardless.

Luckily, her car is parked relatively close because you honestly don’t know how much longer you can take before your knees give out from under you. It seems that despite the little nap you had at the nurse’s clinic, you hardly feel refreshed at all. All you want is to pass out on your comfortable bed for an indefinite period of time and pray for the demon under your bed to drag you to its depths and skin you alive. Knowing your luck, even the demon wouldn’t be that merciful towards a gremlin like yourself.

Sera begins backing up the car, stealing looks at you as you slowly became one with the car seat. You clench your eyelids shut, hoping that Sera would have the decency to respect your space for now and save the questioning for later. That pipe dream is immediately dashed, however, when she starts speeding down the empty streets and opens her big fucking mouth, her shrill voice reverberating in the small sedan.

“Don’t you dare sleep on me now, young miss! You have an entire weekend to hibernate so crank up that brain of yours for two more minutes and tell me what the fuck happened,” she says, nearly crashing over a trash bin in her haste to interrogate you.

“My brain? What’s that? Pretty sure that old thing disintegrated months ago. I think I shat it out when we had Taco Tuesday that one time in November,” you say, missing the way she snorts back in response. When Sera pinches your side to force you to face forward, your fatigue addled consciousness doesn’t even register the pain until a few seconds later.

“Ow,” you whine lamely.

“That literally took you five seconds to react,” Sera whistles, running over a child’s bike in the process. Neither of you look back to check the damage. “Damn, Min Yoongi’s penis must’ve been hella impressive if you’re this mindfucked. Are the rumors true? He must be packing down there, am I right?”

“Please stop saying the word penis. I’m getting triggered again,” you groan, slapping her lightly. She guffaws loudly, shoulders shaking at your misery.

“Sorry, can’t help being a horny bastard. But seriously, what’s the context? I wasn’t even aware you still talked to him after first year. He was your RA at your freshman dorm, right?”

“I don’t talk to him,” you say. You fidget in your seat, hands twisting and turning on your lap. “I mean. We were never close or anything.”

“Then care to explain how you managed to stand in the presence of Min Yoongi junior and behold his glory? Were you guys about to fuck before you realized his penis probably isn’t going to fit? Or, holy shit… Is he actually fun-sized like the rest of his body is?”

“Shut the fuck up, Sera.”

“Oh my god, he’s totally fun-sized!” She gasps, snatching up her phone while you two waited at a stoplight. “Wait ‘til Cassandra hears about this––”

Despite your diminished motor skills, you manage to grab her phone away from her before she can spread any misinformation to the rest of the student body. Min Yoongi’s penis is his business, and consequently, it seems to have become your business as well. Cue existential dread.

“Will you shut up for two seconds and let me explain? No, he is not fun-sized. I will not divulge any more information regarding that subject,” you say. Sera deflates noticeably beside you. “And no, we were not about to fuck. I just happened upon him while he was… in the midst of some recreational activities.”

“Oh, he’s into that type of shit. Understandable,” Sera nods, sagely. You have no idea what her tone might be implying, but honestly at that point you were too scared to ask. “How’d you find him like that, then? Did you hear him tugging his meat and decide to join in? Because honestly, big mood.”

“No!” you exclaim hotly, slapping her once again. “I’m not like your perverted ass! I was just––” You halt in the middle of your sentence, recollections of the past hours swimming through your mind and the fear and anxiety that had taken over you this afternoon starts to consume you once more.

“Hey, you alright? You got pale all of a sudden,” Sera notes, slowing down in her driving as she makes her way to park in front of your apartment. The two of you can see the lights of your crotchety landlord’s living room are still on, and you hope to God that he isn’t peering outside his windows and preparing to call the police on your friend (again).

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just,” you sigh, staring ahead of you and into the empty street. You don’t know why you’re hesitant to tell her what had happened earlier today. Normally, you would be exploding at the seams right now, weeping in despair at the sorry state of your existence. Then again, you’re not sure if you’re ready to go through the agony of reexperiencing the worst 12 hours of your life. Also, you just wanted to go pass out in your bed and never wake up.

In the end, you decide to tell her. Maybe she could offer a comforting shoulder to cry on. “Okay, so don’t laugh but… You remember the poem that got posted on the CCU Love Letters Facebook page this morning?”

Sera nods, confused. “Yeah? What about it?”

You take a deep breath, feeling your palms begin to sweat as hot licks of shame run down your back. You whisper, “Well. Yeah. I’m the author.”

There is a tangible silence inside the car. You’re afraid to look at Sera, dreading what sort of expression might appear on her face. Disdain? Pity? Mirth? Whatever it is, her quietness makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in alarm. You’re about to book it out of her car and make some shitty excuse about needing to feed your goldfish when you hear the locks of the cardoors click shut. You whip your head towards her, eyes widening when you saw the smug look on her face.

Not a good sign. At all.

“Do my ears deceive me? Is Miss ‘i’m-never-going-to-date-because-romance-is-dead’ Y/N really the author of the sweetest and most romantic poem of the century?” she singsongs, her smirk growing with each word that leaves her lips.

“Who ever said I was against romance?” You retort, cheeks flushing so hotly that you’re sure there is steam coming out of your ears. Sera cackles loudly, slamming her hand so hard into the car horn that it causes one of the wandering cats to jump up high into the air. You are half concerned when you don’t see the poor cat come back down.

“Oh please! When was the last time you dated anyone? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you date anyone the entire time we’ve known each other!”

“We met in freshman year. You didn’t know how I was in high school,” you pout, huffing crossly. “And besides. I write romantic poems sometimes. You’ve read my blog posts.”

“Yeah, I know but,” Sera giggles once more, switching her phone on to search for something. When she finds what she is looking for, her eyes light up as she shows you the damned poem that got you into this mess in the first place. “You literally wrote ‘how wonderful is it to find that the dips in your hands look awfully lonely without mine in them?’ and you’re telling me that you wrote that?”

You push the phone away, groaning into your hands when you happen to glance at the number of likes on the post. “Fucking 2000 likes? Really? I’m gonna commit seppuku with your 13-inch dildo, I swear.”

As you let yourself descend into madness once more, you feel Sera’s hand pat your back comfortingly, though you can still hear her stifled giggles. “Okay. To be honest, I kind of knew it was you. No one else can write sappy lovesick bullshit like that and be sincere about it. Who the fuck compares skin to moonlight anymore? Are we in the 16th century?”

“You just said you didn’t believe that I’d write it,” you say. “I need people to not think it’s me. It’s so embarrassing as it is!”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think people are gonna think it’s you. There are a bunch of people in our Creative Writing class. It could be anyone,” Sera says, pinching your cheek lightly.

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, probably.” Sera hums, her thumbs flying on the screen of her phone. She pauses, chuckling lightly at something. “Though, I must say. You’re incredibly lucky. If you had used your actual e-mail address instead of your… burner one, you would have been found out immediately.”

“Little victories,” you say, wondering if the prepubescent version of yourself would have known that creating [email protected] would eventually save your life 10 years later in the future. Probably not, but you’ll take it all the same. “Will you unlock the doors now, please? I’m gonna sleep the trauma away and hopefully not be alive by Monday, but if I am… then I guess I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

“Hold on sister,” she says, restraining you back into your seat with her arm. You cough in surprise, shooting a glare back her way as she keeps you away from your bed longer than you would already like. “If you’re the author of the poem… Then can you tell me who the muse of the poem is? And more importantly, is it someone I know?”

Judging by the salacious look on her face, you know it would be a bad idea telling her. Not that you wouldn’t trust Sera with your life, but––actually, you really would not trust her with anything. Now that you think about it, telling Sera would be the equivalent of giving Kim Seokjin full access to your internet search history, and you have enough brain cells in your inventory to know that some things are worse than death.

“Ugh, can we just drop the subject, please? I really don’t want to have an aneurysm inside your car right now. I can see Mr. Park staring at us through his living room window and we both know you can’t afford bail for the third time this year.”

“Oh shit, you’re right,” she sighs, relinquishing her hold on you and allowing you to unlock the door. “But that doesn’t mean I’m letting this go! You’re telling me everything when we see each other on Tuesday, understand?”

“I’d rather die, thanks!” You call out, slamming the door shut. “And besides, I’m gonna try to kill the rumors as quickly as possible before someone figures it out.”

“How are you gonna do that? Don’t tell me you’re going to go to each of the guys and explain? Maybe tell them it’s a misunderstanding?” Sera asks, watching you curiously. The very thought of doing that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention. You gaze downwards at the wet pavement, the feeling of impending doom rapidly becoming familiar.

"That would mean outing myself as the author, so that's definitely a hard pass."

"Suit yourself." Sera shrugs, already beginning to pull away from the driveway. She waves lazily at you, before driving away into the night. You stand outside for a moment longer, sighing deeply as you resign yourself to your new life filled with tomfoolery and bullshittery.

At the very least, there is no where to go but up, right?

[Life Lesson #1: It's important never to test fate with foolish declarations of optimism such as this. It only tempts whatever sadistic force that controls your pathetic human life to do their worst. So of course, it gets worse.]

To your credit, you don't spend your entire weekend wallowing in self-pity and despairing at your current situation. You only spend maybe 90% of it doing just that. The other 10% is used to plan your next plan of action.

Like an idiot, you fill yourself with too much misplaced confidence and Flamin' Hot Cheetos. You think to yourself, "Man! I have the whole weekend to think of something to do! Surely my brain will be able to make some sort of plan by the time Monday comes!"

It is a wonder that you are still somehow standing, in a state that some might say resembles being "alive," with how bad your forward thinking is. As it turns out, the weekend slips past you before you know it, with no more than a seedling of a plan than you did during the peak of your mental breakdown.

Suffice to say, you're in deep shit.

Monday comes just as surely as the sun rises from the east, which is to say that time continues to pass despite how much you'd be willing to pay for it to stop. You could live with one kidney, right? (Fate is probably more of a vegan, you surmise.)

Even when the world is ending all around you, it seems that your 8AM music composition class will wait for no one. And so, there you are: dragging your feet to what is usually one of your favorite classes, but with the added bonus of death clinging to your elbows. Perhaps your cosplay of a corpse is a bit too convincing, because most passersby are quick to step around you. Honestly, this is probably for the best, as you aren't sure what type of state your human compassion is at the moment, should someone dare disturb your "peace."

But of course, there is always that one idiot who manages to ruin your day––for the sole reason that he exists, much to your disappointment and chagrin. Hell, even his voice is enough to make your hairs bristle from just how he lilts his words ever so slightly. It is an absolute shame that the shortest route to your class is past his hair salon, so you can only imagine the speed at which your blood pressure rises when you hear him say––

“Miss Park, your split ends! Oh my word, Miss Park! Whatever shall we do but snip, snip, snip all those wretches out of your life, just like how I snip up all my haters! Aha, this is your cue to laugh by the way!” Kim Seokjin guffaws, his stupid voice unable to be muted by ten inches of concrete. Through the hair salon’s windowpane, you can see Seokjin’s hands make quick work of an elderly woman’s hair, his eyes in crescent moons with how loud he laughs. You mentally make a sign of the cross for the disaster that will soon befall that poor woman’s head.

Now, normally you would make haste to your class, with head bowed and shoulders hunched in hopes of that fool-mouthed ninny from seeing you and engaging in some of his usual buffoonery. For whatever brain cells he lacked, Seokjin always seems to have the ability to rope you into his many harebrained discussions, with topics ranging from “how often do you think people think of sleeping with me?” to “do you think if plants could dream, would they dream of sleeping with me?”

You know. The works.

As it is, today is not an ordinary day, and encountering Seokjin has only made you recall the distressing events from Friday. From your panic induced haze, you can only remember murky images of him holding court amongst a crowd of people, telling them how he must be the muse of your damned poem. The faint memory fills you with abject horror as you are reminded, not for the first time, how big his terribly well-sculpted mouth can be and how he will stop at nothing to make sure that everyone believes what he wants. (Despite how horrendous he is as an organism of this earth, you would be a fool to call his looks anything but mediocre. But that’s as far as anything worth praising concerns the likes of him.)

Something takes over you in that moment, something animalistic. As if your dumb monkey brain is going “hoo hoo eek eek… must… eliminate… AWOOGA… BIG THREAT…” and your sensible and empathetic sides are consequently forced to lie dormant in the meantime.

Hence how you find yourself bursting through Spick and Spock Hair Salon, with no plan whatsoever. All you can think of is Seokjin hanging from his balls on the school’s flagpole, and honestly you weren’t all that concerned with how Point A was going to reach Point B(alls). But we’ll deal with that later.

“What was that?” Miss Park hums, her hearing aid somewhat short-circuited with the sensory abuse it has already had to undergo. To Seokjin’s credit, his hands do not falter despite your loud entrance; however, that could mostly be explained by how much louder his own voice is in comparison, but that’s just your humble onion.

“––and basically, Miss Park, there is this poor soul out there who must be dying with embarrassment because their love poem has been exposed to the world without their consent! Now, I may be Aphrodite incarnate, but I am also a gentleman, and so I do not condone force of any kind,” Seokjin drawls, incognizant of the world around him. He continues to apply the perm solution on Miss Park’s curls, the precision at how he works almost impressive if not for the fact that he was entirely abhorrent.

“That’s nice, Jinnie, but will you please shut up? I’m two steps away from turning off my hearing aid, you know,” Miss Park says cheerily.

“STOP WHERE YOU ARE, KIM SEOKJIN! STOP FEEDING LIES TO THE ELDERLY!” You cry, filled with the same type of distress that a young peasant might feel from their first licks of capitalism. Seokjin, the wicked businessman in this terrible analogy, is the one selling his counterfeit goods to the unsuspecting innocent.

Miss Park gasps, turning to Seokjin with betrayal in her eyes. “Oh, I knew it! My perm does make me look older! Just give me the pink highlights like I told you, Jinnie. I saw the youngsters doing it on Facebook,” she says.

Seokjin turns his head towards you in slow-motion, like an ass, and even takes the care to flick his beautifully styled bangs away from his forehead so he can gaze upon you with faux interest. “Oh? Miss Y/N? In my salon? I knew you’d be back here soon enough, especially with those roots… Come, take a seat. Let me bump your sorry 2/10 looking ass to a 2.5/10 at least.”

“If it were not for the laws of this land,” you seethe, cursing him through gritted teeth. You stalk towards him, rolling up your sleeves to show that you mean Business. (Funnily enough, you were wearing a tank top that day.) “I can’t believe you’re even being considered a suspect of the poem’s muse in the first place!”

Seokjin fakes a contemplative look. “Isn’t it because of my moon-like radiance? People have told me that I glow like a newborn babe.”

“You sure have the brains of one,” you retort.

“I heard from my niece that it was because he was an extra in a play as a moon or something,” Miss Park quips helpfully. Seokjin makes an affronted noise, but does not reject her claim.

“You were, like, a prop?” You snicker, forgetting for a moment what you were doing. You watch with wicked fascination as his ears turn red.

“Everyone has to start from somewhere! And so what? I had to hang ten feet in the air with a wedgie the entire time! My battle scars are what make me stronger.” He sniffs, upturned nose and all. You and Miss Park snort, not at all inconspicuously.

He pours the remainder of the solution all over Miss Park’s head and slaps her not-too gently on the back, clasping his hands together gleefully. “Well! That should do the trick. Relax, Miss Park, and let the chemicals do all the talking or whatever.” You take mental note to never come back to his establishment ever again so long as you live.

“Ma’am, if you’d like to save yourself from listening to the avalanche of anger that I’m about to unleash, I would suggest turning off your hearing aid for a moment,” you say.

She shrugs her shoulders, reclining further into her seat and resting her legs on a nearby bench. “Sure. YOLO, as the kids say.”

At her consent, you promptly slap the hearing aid out of her ear so you can scream at Seokjin in relative privacy. Miss Park doesn’t even seem to notice, and this should’ve been an indicator of how fucked up Seokjin’s salon is if she didn’t even seem slightly shocked by your actions. (How could she, when Seokjin literally just dumped fucking chemicals all over her scalp? Isn’t that illegal?)

“I’m going to sensibly reason with you first,” you scream and jab at his chest, being unreasonable.

“Okay, sounds believable,” Seokjin replies, raising a brow. He gestures for you to follow him to where the cashier is supposed to be, except that it is so early in the morning that the other employee that works with him isn’t even in at the moment. You still have yet to know why Seokjin opens the shop at 8AM in the first place.

“Why the hell are you spreading misinformation to random people like that? You know damn well that the poem isn’t about you,” you huff, crossing your arms. Seokjin, the ever-loving twat that he is, matches your pose to mock you. He even juts out his hip the way that you do.

“Of course it’s about me! How could it not be about me? Did you not read the part about how the author looks at the moon and thinks about my skin? Everyone knows that Etude House is dying to have me as their face mask model!”

The prickling urge to strangle him strengthens. “Listen,” you say, teeth gnashing from the effort of keeping yourself from leaping and ending it all. “For once in your life, is it really that hard to believe that the world doesn’t revolve around you?”

“Oh, you’re one of those heliocentric believers? Jincentric is where it’s at, Miss Y/N!” He laughs, slapping his knee at the pure hilarity of his joke. He does not pause once at your disdainful visage.

“Fine! Believe what you want! But I need you to stop telling everyone that you’re the muse of that poem. The rumor won’t die if you keep stoking the flame with your inflamed ego.”

Seokjin ponders your words for a second, looking at you with a contemplative stare. He does not speak for so long that you’re almost willing to let yourself hope that he has acquiesced, until––”When have you ever done anything for me?”

You gape at his sudden accusation. “Excuse me? I’ve done a lot for you!”

“Like?”

You pause, racking your brain. “Uh. I haven’t killed you?”

“Fair,” he nods, stroking his chin. “But that won’t be enough to stop me. I love being admired, so fuck you for even assuming that I would stop talking about myself. However, I’ll do it for a price.”

“Price?” You groan, fixing him with a glare. “You know damn well that I’m poor, but name it and I’ll try to pay it as soon as you can.”

Seokjin grins, his pearly whites much too incandescent with how dark his soul is. “Invest in my JiHope t-shirt business. I need, like, $500 left to reach the first goal of my kickstarter.”

You stare at him, completely baffled. Is this dude for real, or is he just a caricature turned to life? “You’re a heathen, do you know that?” you say, disgust oozing from every orifice of your body.

“I am feeling quite heathen-ish today, thanks for noticing,” he replies, somber. “Does that mean you accept my proposal?”

You hate how his voice sounds even the slightest bit optimistic, because that means he really does think you’re as stupid as he is. “Can you be serious for once? And before you say it, don’t fucking pull a dad joke on me and say some shit like ‘how can I be serious if I’m Jin?’ because I will not hesitate to bite two inches off your dick.”

“That would still leave 13-inches, so to be honest I should be thanking you.” He shrugs his shoulders, unashamed of existing in this day and age. “And no, I can’t be serious. It goes against my brand.”

“Your brand of being a fucking menace to society?” you grouse.

“Exactly.”

You are seriously ready to explode, and it isn’t going to be pretty. Lord knows that Seokjin would hate having your guts splattered on his overpriced Gucci slides. “Please, can you just stop talking about the poem? It’s bad enough that the original post is getting hundreds of likes by the hour, and if I know one thing, it’s probably mostly from your own influence.”

With a hundred thousand followers under his belt, it probably isn’t that much of a stretch. As much as he is the spawn of Satan, he is rather popular among your peers. Not that popularity has ever been a good measure of compassion. Case in point:

Seokjin grins, misleadingly angelic. “Aw, are you calling me an influencer? That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“You’re insufferable!” you yell, glowering at the overly-smug theatre student. You stomp your foot on the ground, pointing a finger in his direction as your nostrils flare in annoyance. Like hell that you’re going to let this shithead make you his bitch! “If you’re not going to do as I say, then I’m going to pester you throughout your entire shift and follow you to class if I have to!”

Big words from such a weak-willed person such as yourself. It does not take you long to realize how fatal of a mistake it is to make such a promise, because you never really stopped to think about the actual logistics of such a stunt (i.e. having to be around Seokjin for longer than your recommended daily dose). You can only imagine what such an experience would entail.

After a 3-hours of watching a buffoon salvaging humanity’s hair-do’s and don’ts (his words not yours), you feel as if his very demonic energy was sucking your life force with a curly straw. You fear that when you close your eyes tonight, you will be haunted by images of his Pacific-wide shoulders and his head tilted back in maniacal laughter as he snips away with less care than a toddler. Well, at least that’s what he appears to be doing, because occasionally you will zone out but then return to the sight of a fairly satisfied customer with glossy looking locks, so perhaps he isn’t as inept as you had imagined.

Your amazement is short-lived, however, when he opens his mouth and the cycle begins anew.

After finishing his last client for the morning, he makes his way to his first class of the day. You are reminded of the fact that you are missing your own morning classes as a result, but you know that you cannot afford to let him off your sight, lest he make a bigger fool of himself (and consequently, make your life a bigger hell than it already is).

You trudge behind him, ensuring that he never strays further than three feet away from you. It’s pretty easy to keep up with him, due to the fact that he always makes a point to pause whenever he sees his own reflection (in windows, shiny surfaces, some poor boy’s bicycle helmet––his narcissism knows no bounds.)

When he finally makes a full stop outside one of the lecture halls, he intentionally sidesteps in front of you. The suddenness of it causes you to bump against his steely back, bruising your nose enough to make you yelp in pain. You’re just about to cuss him out when he turns to face you, uncharacteristically serious.

“Now Y/N, I need you to stay out here in the corridor like a good girl, okay? There’s a strict rule of having no pets allowed,” he coos, making the fatal mistake of trying to stroke your head. He shrieks when your teeth meets his palm, but you are unrepentant.

When you let go, he tries to appear unfazed, blowing you a kiss instead as he saunters off into the lecture hall. Not wanting to disturb the class anyway, you decide to heed his words and squat outside in the hallway, occasionally looking through the small window to glare menacingly at the pink-haired bastard. Despite the holes you wish you were burning into the back of his skull, he remains aloof to your imaginary death ray as he continues to take studious notes of whatever his professor is saying.

On the other hand, his classmates are a different story. They send each other wary looks, wondering why the hell this random person was doing a Jack Torrance impression. When the clock strikes, they all make a beeline for the exit, clearly avoiding looking you in the eye as they speedwalk to their next classes. Seokjin makes it out last, his gait the picture of perfect nonchalance. He has the audacity to look surprised to see you there, like you were an old friend he had not expected to meet until you both reached the pearly gates (or fiery pits, but that’s unimportant right now).

“You’re still here, Miss Golum? Have you been good? I’m honestly surprised that you are as stubborn as I am.” He whistles lowly, shouldering his backpack with a smirk. He walks down the hall towards the exit, not checking to see if you were keeping up or not.

You proceed to bite his penis in half to keep him in place. Okay, not really, but you know… one can dream.

What you actually do is follow him as he heads to the cafeteria, presumably to sustain the mortal body he has chosen to possess. It takes him an agonizing thirty minutes to decide what he wants to eat for lunch, and another thirty minutes to say his extensive list of food products that he will most likely be consuming within the next hour or so. You’ve never seen a fast food worker look so dead before, and you’re sure the poor college student behind the counter had zoned out after Seokjin ordered his tenth happy meal.

As the two of you stand to the side to wait for his order, he turns to you expectantly. “So,” he begins.

“Fa,” you retort, followed by a gasp of shock from the elder.

“Do my ears deceive me? Your first dad joke… And to think, all it took was for you to hang out with me for four hours to initiate you as an apprentice.” He weeps loudly, faking tears in an impressively short amount of time. That doesn’t stop you from kicking him in the shin, though.

“Don’t worry, I’m already dead inside. There’s no soul left for you to consume,” you reply dryly. He tuts, shaking his head.

“Before I was so rudely interrupted, I was just about to ask… As much as I have enjoyed our quality bonding time together––”

“I’ll gladly piss on your grave, don’t forget,” you interject.

“––I was wondering why you’re so adamant to dispel the rumors about the poem? You don’t seem like the type to engage in campus gossip.”

Oh shit. Perhaps there is something more than hot air in that tiny head of his.

You flounder about like a fish for a bit, your mouth opening and closing as you think of an explanation that wouldn’t out yourself in the process. You feel your cheeks reddening, only two seconds away from steam whistling out of your eardrums. Broken stammers are all you can manage as he waits expectantly, but luckily, you don’t have to think of a response when a nearby commotion forces the two of you to back away from each other.

A gaggle of freshmen storm through from out of nowhere, forcing the both of you to be swept away as they all made their way towards a pop-up stand in the middle of the court. Accustomed to the borderline cringey overexcitement of the youngest students in the university, you are quick to dismiss their behavior and decide to search for Seokjin, until you hear one of the little freshmen say something that catches your attention.

"You think the t-shirts are still available? Chaeyeon said the hoodies sold out this morning, so I'm scared that we'll be too late," a young girl says, her hands clutched to her chest as she tries to tiptoe over the crowd to survey the state of the merchants just up ahead.

Her friend pats her back assuringly. "Don't worry. The announcement on the page said they're bringing in the reserve stocks from the backroom, which is probably why everyone's here. We just have to get there first." They proceed to elbow their way through the throng of people, and completely disappear from your view. Where they stood, more people soon took their place until a sizeable swarm has taken over half the area of the floor.

Now, this exchange isn't necessarily a red flag to most people, since many clubs and organizations at your university often sold different types of goods to raise funds for their projects. However, given the circumstances that you have become entrenched in the last few days, you can never be too cautious of innocent utterances such as this.

You take a few steps back, trying your best to see over the heads of the crowd that is steadily growing larger. After a few minutes of fruitless attempts to squeeze through sweaty pits and cacophonous teenagers, you are ready to just give up and let it go when the same pair of girls from earlier exit from the side, with numerous folded up shirts in their arms.

You hasten towards them, barely being able to latch onto their shoulders to stop them from escaping. The shorter of the girls squeals in surprise, dropping her prized possessions onto the floor. She turns to you, anger ready to burst forth from her tongue when she looks you in the face. She softens almost immediately, wrath evaporating in the wind. Confused, you're just about to ask her if she knows you from somewhere when her friend cuts you to the chase.

"Oh my God! It's her!" she squeals, reaching for your hand and shaking it so vigorously that you swear you hear your shoulder bones pop out of its socket. The girl who had dropped her shirts just continues to stare at you in awe, her mouth agape as she remains speechless, apparently from your presence alone.

You feel the dread begin to build in the pits of your stomach. "It's me?" you say, pointing to yourself with your free hand.

"Yes! Miss Y/N, you have no idea how happy I am to meet you! We are big fans of your work on the CCU Pen Blog! Your short story about the talking brick wall honestly brought me to tears," she gasps out, eyes twinkling with unrestrained reverence. Judging from the death grip she has on your hand, you can certainly say that this girl isn't lying.

While you are aware of the small following that you've accumulated over the past two years as one of the top contributors in your university's open writing forum, that isn't to say that you have ever met a fan as fervent as the two before you. Still on edge from everything that has been going on, you still can't let your guard down around them.

After a bit of effort on your part, you are finally able to pry yourself away from the girl's tight hold. Coughing lightly into your abused fist, you fix them with a wary glance. They return it with unnervingly excited stares of their own.

"Um. Thank you very much, ladies. I just wanted to ask you about the function going on over there?" you ask, pointing over at the still bustling shop booth. At your query, the girls actually look confused, as if you are the weird one in this interaction.

"You don't know? I thought you of all people should know about the merch sale happening right now," the quieter girl speaks up, bewildered. She bends down to pick up the shirts she had dropped, turning it over to show you the design that you had previously failed to notice. What a terrible mistake you have committed.

(Was the mistake looking at the t-shirt? Was it waking up today? Was it deciding to live after your mother conceived you in the womb? Truly, where does the blame game truly end in this foul existence that you call your own?)

The scream that is elicited from your throat cannot be described as anything from this world, because you are sure everyone in the vicinity might have stopped breathing for a few seconds after hearing it. The macabre quality of your voice even caused the two girls in front of you to flee in fright, leaving you with the wretched t-shirt in your trembling palms.

There, printed on the t-shirt, right in front of your mortal eyes, is an image you would rather that you had not seen even if it meant having to suckle from Kim Seokjin's teets for all eternity.

In all its poorly printed glory, your face is plain as day. Anyone would be able to recognize that it was you: in the middle of chewing what appears to be a whole turkey leg.

There you were, with ketchup dripping down your cheek, sitting just outside the Fine Arts building as you scarfed down the poor piece of poultry because you had been too lazy to cut up into smaller, more refined chunks. Like the fucking caveman that you are, you had held the leg like a police baton, mouth open so wide that you'd think you might have unhinged your jaw to get the entire thing to fit in there.

You think that's all? It gets worse.

Somehow, the perpetrator of this terrible t-shirt just has to make you look even less attractive than humanly possible. Superimposed beside your sauce-stained self is none other than a PNG image of Jeon Jungkook in his prime. With his sleek black hair pushed back to reveal his forehead, you are sure that this photo is the same one that everyone on campus had swooned over just a few weeks prior, when he had been chosen to model in an advertisement for some club's fundraising event. He is the picture of quiet confidence, which might make you laugh on any other day, since the boy is anything but that in his day to day life. You only ever interact with him when you see him manning the front desk of the library, and he always has his head bowed over a book, unaware of the stares of his many admirers.

Clearly, the injustice of having a literal god beside your hulk-ish photo is downright cruel, but this optical torment does not stop there.

Underneath the photos of the two of you, there is a short line of text that is honestly the worst part of the entire thing. In bold, sans serif font, it reads “Y/NKOOK SUPPORTERS INITIATIVE” with a copious amount of black heart emojis tacked on. In a smaller, but similarly visible manner, it also reads “The Moon Poem is about them and I will stand on this rock until I die!” There are also numerous 100 and fire emojis scattered around the entire shirt.

It’s terrible. It’s downright despicable. It’s the worst thing to ever grace your vision, and that’s saying something, considering that you’ve met your fair share of delusional graphic designers.

Another scream rips from your throat––more livid, this time.

It is at that moment when you realize that maybe Thanos was right––maybe some people really do deserve to die for the betterment of civilization.

Perhaps the crowd of eagerly waiting customers can sense the heat from your unfathomable anger, because they quickly part like the Red Sea as you stomp over to the front of the lines where you will likely find the perpetrator of this heinous crime.

There is a young boy with droopy eyes standing by the tables of merchandise, his hands quickly counting wads of bills as he jams them haphazardly into his pink Hello Kitty fanny pack. He doesn't even bother looking up when you approach him, still busy with his profits, when you clear your throat to catch his attention.

"Are you the one in charge of this fucking circus?" You snarl, fists itching to come into contact with his cheeks. He hums disinterestedly, zipping up his gaudy fanny pack with a tired sigh.

"No, ma'am. I'm just the hired help," he drawls, turning away from you as he gestures vaguely at the mountains of goods still left for purchase. "Are you interested in something or what? There are still 30 people waiting to buy, so I'd rather you not back up the line please."

At the end of your patience, you admit that perhaps grabbing the poor boy by the collar might have been a bit drastic. Still, you're itching to know who the source of all this madness is, so you don't feel all that guilty when he makes a choking sound from your act of brute force. Despite your strong grip on his windpipe, his dead fish-eyes do not disappear. In fact, he looks exasperated more than anything.

"Listen lady, are you going to buy something or what? Who even the fuck are you?"

You splutter, staring incredulously at the younger. Who the fuck are you? You aren't the type to expect people to know who you are but you can at least expect that the person selling goods with your face on it would know who you are! Like, how the hell does he not know that you were the same person on the damned picket fans and keychains?

"I don't––what the hell––" you stammer, speechless for the first time in a while.

"OWO what's this? Is this a new campus couple shipping booth that just opened? Do you guys sell JiHope versions too?" Just in time to witness your second mental breakdown of the day, Seokjin makes his convenient re-entrance as he sidles up beside you. He has two burgers in hand, one of which he is halfway done eating.

You gape at him. "Did you buy a burger for me?"

Seokjin snorts, stuffing the entire remainder of the sandwich into his unfathomably large mouth. "No, you idiot. They’re both for me," he replies, with surprising coherency despite the dribbles of meat and bread product spilling onto his chin. You swear you can see him unhinge his jaw just the slightest bit.

He bends down to pick up one of the fallen pins from the floor, groaning at the sound of his back cracking. "Oh shit, that hurt!"

Unable to help yourself despite still having a freshman in a chokehold, you quip automatically "Yikes, that sounds like a couple of dinosaur bones creaking. You alright?"

Not missing a beat, Seokjin replies "Nah. I just can’t help having a bad back with how big my dick is."

The young boy taps you on the shoulder, reminding you once more of the situation you are in. "Can you let go? My shift is over so you can interrogate the next dude instead," he drawls, having the audacity to yawn at you.

Taking pity on him, you do as he asks. He straightens up, pulling his rumpled collar down before unclasping the fanny pack from around his waist. Another similarly dead-eyed young boy (who was incredibly tall, much to your chagrin––obnoxiously tall young men ALWAYS had agendas, take Seokjin for example) takes the bag from him. He gives you a short once over, no signs of recognition present in his expression at all. When he sees Seokjin, however, his reaction is a lot more than you expected.

"Oh my God, Seokjin? Holy shit, I'm a big fan!" The new boy gasps, pushing aside a customer in favor of reaching over to shake Seokjin's hand. Ever the slut for praise and appreciation, Seokjin shakes his hands with the ease of a seasoned politician.

"Aren't we all?" he laughs, haughty. The other boy laughs too, his eyes sparkling with unrestrained admiration. You sneer in disgust at the hearts visibly emanating from his body.

"My name is Soobin, and I just love your performance in last week's production at the Campus Theatre! Would you mind signing my assh––"

"Hold on," you interrupt, glaring daggers at Seokjin. "Did you fucking do this? Did you make this fucking merch booth of me and Jungkook?"

Seokjin frowns, annoyed that you had been impetuous enough to stop this spontaneous meet and greet session between him and his loyal fan. "No, of course not. Who even the fuck is Dungcock, or whatever the hell that dude's name is."

"You fucking dumb piece of shit––" you say, about to bite off his balls for real when your phone begins to ring, saving Seokjin for the time being. You recognize the ringtone to be the one you set for your alarms, and you realize that after all the commotion from this morning, you have forgotten about the tutoring session you are supposed to have with Hoseok today. Since you had cancelled last Friday's session after your spectacular psychotic meltdown, you know that you couldn't possibly skip this one as well.

Shutting your phone off, you groan, fixing Seokjin with your most solemn gaze. "Listen, I don't have a lot of time. I have to go tutor Hoseok soon, and I've already skipped all my classes today by trying to convince your imbecilic ass to be empathetic for once in your miserable life so I'm begging you for the last time––please stop spreading the rumors about the poem," you finish, tears welling up as you finally register the fatigue weighing down your bones. It's only Monday, and you can't wait for the sweet release of death.

Seokjin is silent the entire while. The merchandise boy, Soobin, has already left the two of you alone, becoming disinterested the moment you uttered the word "listen." You're breathing heavily, bracing yourself for the inevitable sound of his windshield wiper-esque laughter. To your complete and utter surprise, his mocking does not come.

Instead, he puts down his second burger, stuffing it inside his back pocket (presumably for safekeeping). He wipes his hands on his shirt, smearing ketchup sauce on it before levelling you with his gaze. He appears like he is about to acquiesce to your demands.

Is this it? Will you allow yourself to hope? Has Kim Seokjin actually developed compassion during the last 20 seconds of your heartfelt plea? Are you finally going to lay to rest the rumor that he does not actually have a second stomach where his heart should be?

Then, "Okay Y/N. I'll do it."

Hope rises just beyond the horizon.

He raises a finger, "But––"

And just like that, hope takes a pounding to the ass (lubelessly) and dies before it even has the chance to break past the peaks of your mountain of crushed dreams.

"––you have to admit that you're the author of the poem and then I'll stop exacerbating the rumors."

You can feel the demon living inside you just itching to climb its way out of your ass and circle its hands around Seokjin's larynx. Hell, you can't say you wouldn't do it yourself. "WHAT? NO!! THAT'S LITERALLY––I'M NOT EVEN––" you scream, shocked and enraged at the same time.

Seokjin rolls his eyes, placing his perfectly manicured hand on his hip. "Save it, babe. I know you're the author. As annoying and stupid as you are––"

"Hey!"

"––you've always been a pretty good writer and I would recognize your writing style anywhere. Not to say that I read your works religiously or anything, but I mean... I see your writing on the newspapers that I use to pick up my dog's shits, so I guess I read them sometimes," he says, not looking you in the eyes. The tips of his ears are turning red, but you hardly notice his embarrassment when you're more amazed that he even acknowledged your talent in the first place. You guys aren't even friends!

"Wow. I don't even know what to say."

"Just admit you're the author and we're good." Seokjin smirks, patting you lightly on the shoulder.

You frown. "Isn't that counterproductive? I want the rumors to stop, not for them to be related to me."

"Which is a sentiment that I cannot fathom at all, since I crave the attention." He sniffs, glowering at you. "You can imagine the sacrifice I am bestowing upon you by having to relinquish this newfound fame just so your little crush stays hidden."

"How benevolent of you," you deadpan.

"And since you didn't deny it, I'm assuming that you are the author after all. Besides, I just wanted you to tell me the truth, mostly so I can bully you for writing sickly sweet love poems about yours truly."

"Okay, I'll admit. I am the author. You got me," you grunt, rubbing your temples. "But there is no way in HELL that I wrote Moonlight Sonata for you. I'd rather eat my own intestines than write anything remotely flattering about you."

"That's what they all say," Seokjin says, sighing dreamily. "To be honest, I knew you were the author from the beginning and I just wanted to annoy you until you caved. I didn't think you would be that stressed over the stupid poem enough to follow me around for an entire day. That crush must be embarrassing, huh?"

"It's not!" you exclaim hotly. You clear your throat, forcing the blush around your cheeks to die down. "It's just... It was supposed to be private." Your voice breaks off into a whisper, vulnerability lacing your words.

It's true––the only reason you wanted all of this to be over was because it was never even supposed to have happened in the first place. Your words and stories were always open to the public eye. You gave and you gave and you gave, although that has never been a problem. You loved sharing your thoughts and feelings; it was one of the greatest things about being writer. You enjoyed hearing how people related to your experiences because it made you feel seen, it made you feel known. You were not alone in this journey, and that had made all the difference.

This time, however, you had preferred to go through this alone. Mostly because even you were not sure what it was that you were going through. How were you supposed to share this part of yourself with others when you did not even know what it was that you were feeling? You had poured every inch of your soul onto those pages, and to have yourself completely barren to the world like it was nothing––

That had been catastrophic to you. But at the end of the day, there was nothing you can do except to try and silence it.

Seokjin considers your sad form, watching you until a small secretive smile inches its way on his lips. You scowl, not liking the way he looks like he knows something that you don't.

"What are you smiling at?"

"Oh, nothing," Seokjin whistles, winking provokingly. He laughs obnoxiously, not faltering even when you kick him in the sin. "Just that I know you have a crush on me and you're just embarrassed to admit it. Thank God that I'm a great actor, so I guess I'll pretend for your sake."

"You're not my––" you start, before giving up mid-sentence. Was there truly any use to arguing with Seokjin? You'd rather not waste any more saliva than you already have. "Whatever. Believe what you want. All that matters is that you do what I asked you to do."

"Sure thing, Shakespeare," Seokjin scoffs, flicking you lightly on the forehead. "Also, in payment for my services, you are required to watch my next play AND attend at least three of my rehearsals and cheer for me every time I appear in a scene. I require a bouquet of flowers at every appearance."

You're about to argue, (fruitlessly, you might add), when a barrage of buzzes coming from your back pocket stops you in your tracks. You slip out your phone, and you see dozens of texts from a worried Hoseok asking where you are. You reply a quick "otw" to him before focusing back on Seokjin.

"Fine. Whatever. I'll fucking kill you the next time I see you, but... thank you. I know it's hard for you to be kind to anything other than your reflection." You take a deep breath, furrowing your brows. Saying thank you to a troglodyte is harder than it seems. "And thanks for reading my works. We're still not friends or anything, by the way. Hope you remember that."

"Wouldn't dream of forgetting," Seokjin chuckles. "Me? Friends with you? A 10 walking around with a negative 1? Fat chance." He waves goodbye, blowing you an obnoxiously loud kiss before stalking off away from you. The bulge of his smooshed burger has left an unsightly grease stain all over the back of his jeans.

Before you turn to go to the exit, you pass by Soobin who was still busy with customers. You slip a few bills into his pocket, tiptoeing to whisper into his ear. "Here's twenty bucks. Go kick Seokjin in the balls for me."

When the double doors slam behind you, the beautiful sound of Seokjin's pained howl bids you the cheery farewell that you deserve.

796 notes · View notes

lynnthevirgo · 4 years

Text

When You’re Cheated on - Namjoon

WC: 2k

Summary: Namjoon helps talk you through a day of mental breakdowns after a breakup.

Warnings: mentions of self harm, mental breakdowns, mentions of bodily harm

A/N: I’m still taking my break, just wanted to post and go because writing is the only thing keeping me going at this point. Yes, this is personal to me. Please don’t ask. Unedited!

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

I was lying on my bed, scrolling through my Tumblr feed with Namjoon just a few seats away from me. He was here as emotional support, having messaged him about the current state I was in. His laptop was open, headphones on and his head bobbing to the beat of a song I’m sure he’ll show me weeks from now when he’s out listened it. But should another episode or attack spring on, he’d be right there ready to talk me down.

It’s not like I was unstable….okay, maybe I was. But I was really good at containing it inside myself, but certain memories will crawl back to the surface and snap my hold on reality. It was so exhausting to go through this cycle. I’ve been spending most of my days in bed, not really doing much because doing too much required energy and effort I couldn’t muster.

He knew I had been with her for a long time. How much she meant to me and the parts of me I let her see, that weren’t always pretty, but I felt comfortable sharing. She shared so much of herself with me as well and that’s why I thought, this is it. She’s it. She’s the one that I’ve been waiting for. My twin flame.

Only for me to be hit with the news that she cheated. We had found ourselves in a predicament where I made her feel alone, unknowingly at the time, her mental demons playing with her over my silence. Then I couldn’t give her the things she needed when she was needy. The two made her reach out to someone who helped her, was there for her when I wasn’t. He gave her comfort and fulfilled the needs she wanted.

She felt bad afterwards and wanted to try to fix things. But I pushed her away. Only afterwards, when I thought we should try to fix things did I find out she had already fallen for him. So she no longer needed me, I was just a piece in her game of life. One that she wanted, because I helped complete the game for her, but didn’t necessarily need.

“Namujoon, please..” I croak, my voice already broken. The pit in my stomach swelling in size, the need for air heightening and the tears falling so fast they double. They’ve already left streaks on my face by the time he looks at me. Instantly he’s at his feet and setting the headphones and laptop to the side, before taking his place beside me.

“What happened? Where are you?” He asks, his fingers through my hair and the other hand rubbing small circles on the center of my back.

“Y/N, it‘s okay. You‘re okay. We‘re okay. Everything will be okay.” He says like a mantra beside me. He’s been using this as a way for me accept things, keep me grounded in reality.

“I hate this. I hate her. I hate him. I fucking hate e-everything.” I bite. My anger lashing out now, I swat the empty space between us on the bed. Only to curl into myself further, fetal position being the only thing to provide me comfort anymore.

“Shh, I know. It‘s okay to hate everything. You‘re allowed to hate this.” He offers as comfort. His big hand sliding down my spine slowly from top to bottom. The other hand out of my hair and holding the hands clutching my chest.

“I don‘t hate her. I don‘t even hate him. I just want things to be like they were. I want her, I want this back and to forget anything happened. Why can‘t I have that back? Why can‘t I have her back?” I ask, more to myself than Namjoon. My emotions peaking, my voice breaking and all the thoughts spilling out.

“I know you don‘t. But you also know why you can‘t have her back, why you can‘t have it back. She made her choice, it‘s time for you to heal.” He replies softly, fingers brushing against my own as he tries to find my eyes.

“You need to help fix this heart of yours. It won‘t work right if you don‘t. She chose her journey, now it‘s time for you to find your own again.” He offers, trying to give me a new perspective to consider.

“I‘d love to! But all I keep seeing is him and her and I‘d rather die than keep reliving it! I‘d rather gouge out my eyes than have to remember that she wanted him to do those things to her! Fucking slit my wrists again than know that every time she‘s not talking to me, it‘s because she‘s talking to him!!” I scream, the sobs ebbing through and the last of my dignity leaving with it as I whine into his chest.

“You don‘t mean that. I know you don‘t. It‘s okay. Just let it out, let everything go.” He whispers in my hair. He holds me so tight that I can’t feel the hurt anymore. It slowly numbs inside myself as the mess on my face wipes onto his shirt. His mantra from earlier being repeated and the sound of his voice lulling me into a sleep.

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

“Look who‘s awake.” He says, putting a tray of food in front of me. I scrunch my face at it, the want and need for food nonexistent.

“If you don‘t eat, I‘ll be forced to feed you myself and you know how much you hate that.” I look to the soup stains from this afternoon on my comforter and sigh. Unhappily, I eat small spoonfuls of the porridge he made.

“How are you?” He asks, sitting at the end of my bed. His full attention on me as one of the BTS soundtracks plays in the background.

“That was a pretty bad one earlier.” He defends for his worry. I just stare at him, wanting to find the perfect words to give him but not having the voice or reason to.

“I know this was the last thing you wanted. Especially after all the promises she made and you told her you‘d believe.” He starts, my eyes already brimming with tears.

“But you keep saying you‘re happy so long as she is. So why don‘t you try?” He offers. His hand resting on my ankle, gently massaging up my calf.

“It‘s so hard, Namujoon.” I manage to croak out. After I place the tray to the side of me, I curl my legs into my chest again.

“I am really glad that she found someone who takes care of her needs like she wanted. A part of me knew going into this that it wasn‘t going to last forever. But-” I can’t even finish, another scream trying to come out in it’s place. I’d been doing so much of that the past few days. I’m sure Namjoon is sick of me.

“Hey, let it out. Stop holding in your emotions. You‘re mad, so scream and yell. You‘re upset, so cry, sob and wail all night if you need to. This is how you heal, y/n. So start allowing yourself the chance to.” He advises, his hand in the center of my back just like earlier. He’s found that I calm down faster when he leaves it there. The other hand of his is still enclosed around my ankle, holding me in place.

“You‘re allowed to have feelings and to express them. It‘s just us here. So let it all out. Your health is the most important thing to me right now.” The bed shifts and I feel his body heat behind me. His arm slides under the pillow and my head, while the other wraps around my stomach and pulls me close to him.

My emotions calm, but my voice is still shaky and broken when I speak.

“This is just so hard. How do I go from asking her everyday if she took her meds, if she‘s eaten to not talking at all some days? She was my best friend, my only friend some days and I love her. I‘m still in love with her.” I finally get out, my sobs breaking again. He squeezes me tighter, I can feel his heartbeat against my shoulder blade. His face buries into my neck, keeping me so close that I can’t tell where I start and he ends.

“Everything works out like it‘s supposed to. You needed her to see that it is possible for someone to love you, all of you, as a whole. Someone to love you as deeply as you love them.” He says low with emotion in my neck.

“You needed to see that. Now that you‘ve seen it, you don‘t need her anymore. She left as quick as she entered and now it‘s up to you to pick up your pieces. To look for the person who isn‘t going to go running to another‘s arms when things get rough.” He explains, his voice just above a whisper now. A low hint of emotion showing with the way his jaw clenches.

“You deserve to be happy and to be cared for fully, without fear. Someone to give you their all for once, instead of you always giving yours.” He adds, my hair sticking to my neck in wet patches from his tears.

“You can beat whatever this is. You‘ve been through hell and back, this one bad heartbreak isn‘t going to ruin the rest of your life. Please believe me. You have to.” He finishes, the breath he exhales coming out shaky.

I wipe my tears, fight the urge to cry again and turn myself to face him. His eyes closed, but his cheeks full of the streaks he didn’t want me to see. As I exhale shakily, I wipe his face with the palms of my hands. His hands coming up to grab my wrists and bring them between our chests. I watch his eyes open and see the pain inside them mirroring my own.

“I‘m okay. You‘re okay. We‘re okay. I will be okay.” I say back to him. Reminding him of the mantra he’s implemented in my head.

“Just don‘t leave me alone. I can do this, so long as you don‘t leave me too.” I say with tears already starting to form and my voice faltering.

He pulls me close, his scent overtaking whatever negative thoughts I was having. The fingers he tightens in my hair, a reminder that he’s there.

“Even if you left me, I‘d never ever leave you. I‘ll still be waiting for you to find your way back home. You‘re family to me and always will be.” He says, leaving a kiss on my temple.

Namjoon was right. I had told myself that so long as she was happy, so was I. So that’s what I would have to start doing. I’ll still let myself grieve over what I lost, who I lost. But at the end of the day, someone else was making her happy. I should be happy for her. Not angry because I don’t have her. She’s happy and because I love her, I want her to stay happy. Even if it means it’s not with me.

I deserve someone who doesn’t break their promises that they won’t leave. Who won’t break their promises that they’ll be there for me too, knowing I’ve been used so many times in the past. Someone who’s willing to still fight for what we had, instead of throwing it away for something that seems exciting right now but might not be in the long run. I deserve better.

Namujoon might just be a friend. But so far he hasn’t broken those, in fact, he’s done everything he can to assure me that he’s always going to be here. Which is what I never got from her. So maybe he’s right. I should fix up this broken heart and work on my journey, because I think I know where I need to go.

#tw self harm #tw bodily harm #tw mental breakdowns #namjoon imagines #namjoon drabbles #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst

33 notes · View notes

rianncreates · 5 years

Text

Family Part 9

Tony stood around his lab making notes onto his tablet. It felt like he has not slept in days if he was not in the lab checking the rock he was in the med bay checking on you. As he finished on the tablet he turned towards the rock.

"Friday, pull up the schematic please." He continued pressing things on the panel. "Ready to start, Mr.Stark." He did some last minute checks "Ok, lets see what makes this thing tick." And hit the panel on last time.

(At the same time in the med bay)

Carol sits next to you reading a book. Shaking her head she flips to the next page. "That missions was not on twelve parsecs" she comments to you as she continues to read to you. As she starts on the next page something catches her eyes. She looks towards you once more and focuses on your hand. It twitches once more, book forgotten and flying to the ground she is immediately at your side. "Y/n?" She looks at your face for any sign of consciousness "Please come back to me." She whispers hoping for a glimpse of y/e/c eyes. Then your body arcs off the bed and starts to seize "Bruce!" she calls out, panic fully present in her voice. She tries to hold you down so you do not get hurt.

Bruce runs in eyes wide the moment they lay on you and he can take in the scene. He stands fully paralyzed at the door way Carol looks over to him. "Whats wrong with her!?"

"Put her on her side." Bruce says as he quickly goes over to the computer in the room. What he sees makes the color drain from his face. Noticing the change in his features Carol tries to get his attention all while trying to stop you from thrashing. "What is it? What's going on!?" No response. "Bruce!!!" At that he seems to come back out of his trance . "Her...her cells they're Dying."

As she hears that her jaw sets "what do you mean by dying?"

"Its like something is sucking the life out of her, but..." he pauses as focuses back on the monitor "There's… Something else, I don't know what though." He turns to look at Carol. She is still holding you as your body convulses looking him in the eyes she asks

"It's there anything we can do?"

"I..I don't know, I'm going to call Tony” he tells her as he rushes to do so.

_____________________________________

*Beep...Beep...Beep..*

Ugh did Carol forget to shut off the alarm again? But It's too slow to be an alarm.. Doesn't matter Nick will come in soon anyway, so I better start getting ready...why is it so hard to open my eyes? What's that smell ? ugh why does my head hurt?

You slowly force your eyes open, you close them once more when the light hits you. As you try once more you realize you are not at home and definitely not in your bedroom. What am I doing in the med bay? You ask yourself. Trying to lift your hand over to your head you feel something tug at it. Noticing the IV connected to your arm you try to recall what happened. You had been studying the rock, finishing up for the day. You remeber you couldn't wait to get home, Your hand instinctively falling onto your belly. I was finally going to take the test. Looking around, your heart starts to beat faster. What happened? You ask out loud to no one in particular.

“Mommy!” you look up towards the door to find a wide eyed Carol and with an exciting 3 year old in her arms. Nick tries to free himself from his mommas arms,obviously struggling in Carols right grip. “Momma down!” he urges her when she does he quickly goes over to the chair near your bedside and using it to boost himself up to bed. You notice how easily he does so, How many times has he done this? You wonder. Soon after,you have the weight of your son on top of you his arms around your neck. You hold him as close to you as possible, looking at Carol she's still paralyzed at the door. Tears present in her eyes, after a few seconds she takes a step closer to you. You on instinct reach your hand out to her and it does the trick she is next to you in seconds. She wraps herself around you and your son and you feel the sob that rips through her. You try to comfort her as best as possible but it's difficult when you are sandwiched by you son and his mother.

She pulls away and tears are falling freely down her cheeks you place your free hand on her cheek and wipe at them. “Hey.” she whispers as if not to break this moment. Smiling you greet her back, she chuckles with more tears. She tries to wipe at them to no use.

“What happened?” you ask you she her jaw set as she takes a deep breath.

_____________________________________

“What the hell happened?” asks Tony as he starts to check the monitors. Carol paces back and forth she tries to give both him and Bruce space to work but stays in the room having the need to still be near you. Bruce takes some blood and starts to examine it. “ I don't know, she was seizing a minute ago then suddenly stopped. But her cells are dying, changing? I don't know. It started out of nowhere”

As Tony checks the monitors for signs as to what changed that's when he saw it. “Is this right ?” he asks looking over to Bruce. Distractedly Bruce confirms his suspicions. “I did this” he whispers backing away, Carol stops and turns towards him “What?” her eyes red, jaw set. “What do you mean you did this?”

He shook his head trying to clear his mind “I was umm.. I was doing some tests on the rock and I got it to react.” he takes a deep breath as he turns and points at the monitor. “If those recording are correct, whatever I did triggered this.”

Sighing Bruce turns to the both of them “It doesn't matter who triggered or started this. What matters is how the hell are we going to stop this.” He frowns at the next words “She’s slowly dying”

Two Hours of test, both Bruce and Tony had made some progress on how to help and essentially save you. Carol listens to them but still keeps and eye on you. She feels helpless, on the day of your wedding she had vowed to keep you safe no matter what. Looking at you know laying on the bed slowly dying she feels like she has already failed you.

“She just needs a boost to regenerate faster and stronger” Carol turned when Tony said that. Thinking fast she responds “What about my Blood?”...

___________________________________

You take a deep breath as you take in the information that was given to you. Carol beside you in bed, Tony and Bruce at the end of it. The moment you asked Carol what happened she took a deep breath and told you to wait a second she had glanced at your son. You understood whatever she had to say should not be in front of him. After spending some time cuddling him, Nat shows up to take him with her for a bit hugging you before leaving you.

“Soo..” a deep breath “I have kree blood now?” you asked looking around the room. Carol subtlety signals for Tony and Bruce to give you some privacy. The second they leave she starts to talk “It as the only way Y/N, you have you understand you had been out for almost 3 weeks.” her voice cracks a bit “I was so scared to lose you. I had to do something Y/N” leaning over she places her forehead to yours, tears once again falling from her eyes. “I had to save you… Both of you” her hand landing on your still flat belly. Your eyes widen at her revelation eyes misting you choke out “ I..I’m” you can finish cuz of the emotions going through you at the moment. She smiled and nodded her head. “We’re having another baby” she whispers, while still in awe your hand falls on top of the hand Carol has over your belly. “After.. All of that the baby is still alive?” you ask needing confirmation. Placing the sweetest of kisses on your lips she says “Looks like we have a little warrior in our hands.”

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

#carol danvers x reader #Captain Marvel #Carol Danvers #captain marvel x reader #marvel imagine #brie larson imagine #marvel #fanfic

87 notes · View notes

charlybradburry · 5 years

Text

Goddamn cats! Part I

Characters/Pairing: Dean, Sam, Reader, Rowena (mentioned); Dean x Reader

Summary: It’s never a good idea to accept candy while being on a witch hunt.

Note: thoughts look like this; also special thanks to @crispychrissy for being a great help getting rid of all the shitty grammar and spelling of mine.

Wordcount: ~1,500

Warnings: pertty weird, spells, cats, allergies....I really don’t know what to write here...

It all started like a harmless hunt. An easy peasy teeny weeny witch hunt…

”Dean! It's clear what we're searching for! People disappear, speaking animals appear in the animal shelters… It's a witch! What more do you need! An invitation?!” You lift an eyebrow and watch him in the front of the Impala with crossed arms.

His forest green eyes roll as he turns around to face you. “Never said something else, sweetheart.”

You sigh and stick your tongue in his direction. The passenger door opens and Sam folds his long legs into the black beauty. You lean back in the dark leather and look at the taller brother. “So Sam, what did you find? Witch or no witch, that’s my question!” You wink and stretch a bit.

“Since all of them bought a pet in the same shop and brought them back after a maximum of one week, I would say you were right, y/n.”

“Ha! Told ya!” You grin widely and look at your now pouting boyfriend. “Dean… you know I love you!” You lean over between the front seats and press a soft kiss on his jawline. “So what you're telling us is that they were terrible people? Giving those poor little kittens and puppies hope and then throwing them away again?” You sigh and look between the brothers while exclaiming your thoughts. “I don’t like them.”

“So plan is, check the shop, find him or her, kill the witch, and go back to the bunker?” Dean asks and starts the engine, the calming purr fills the air.

Of course it sounded easy, it definitely was easy! You were on so many witch hunts already, I couldn’t be that bad, right?! Yeah…until the part where…

“Poor honey! Why would someone bring back such a cutie, huh? Oh and you're such a big cuddler. I would take you home with me in a heartbeat.” You kneel in front of one of the cages in the shop that you should check, petting a big ginger cat with long fur as she presses against your hand.

“She's a cutie, right?” The brunette shopkeeper stands behind you and smiles down at you.

You look back at the cat and keep petting her head. “She really is, unfortunately my boyfriend would kill me if I brought a cat home,” you murmur, smiling sadly and looking back at him. “Does she have a name?”

He chuckles and walks up to the counter, picking up a lemon drop from the glass display. “There's always a way to change someone's mind. Oh, and her name is Max.” He hands you the bonbon and grins at you.

…ok maybe it was a bad idea to eat that sugar! Especially when you're on a witch hunt, but you needed something!

Now you were laying on the motel room on the bed you were sharing with Dean, curled up on one of his worn shirts, searching for some comfort in the well known smell.

Ok, y/n! Don’t panic! Everything will be fine!

As the door opens and the lights get turned on you feel the light burning to bright in your wide pupils, you squint your eyes and hiss to the door. “Sam! Why the fuck is there a god damn cat in our room?! And where the fuck is, y/n?!” you keep growling and snuggle a bit deeper into the shirt, your nose pressing into the fabric. “Hey! That’s mine!”, Dean shouts at you and you press your ears against your head rumbling at him. “'m here Dean!” You want to proceed a bit but get interrupted by a row of sneezes. Sam laughs and lets himself fall down onto the second bed, watching the two of you. “Sammy! It's not funny! I'm fucking allergic to cats and now my goddamn girlfriend is one!” You roll your big y/e/c eyes and lick over the fur on your shoulder. “'m sorry, love, but I won't sleep here tonight!” You feel you're pupils getting giant, the light felling way to bright in your eyes. He wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as you? He…he couldn’t do that to you! You needed him! You needed some good rest! “De…” your mouth stands a bit open and your eyebrows knit together, tears filling your big shiny orbs. “Oh no! Nononono! Sweetheart! That’s not fair! Sammy! Tell her, that puppy eyes aren’t fair!” “Hey you're the one that told her that you wouldn’t sleep in sleep in the same bed as her! She's your problem now!” the younger brothers chuckles and patts on the blanket next to him. “come here, kitty.” You can't resist the urge to bury your face in his chest for too long. Just moments later you find yourself pressing against the warm shirt inhaling your best friends scent. Again he laughs and starts rubbing just the perfect spot behind your ear. Dean’s eyes glued to you and his brother are filled with jealous, burning hot and heavy inside of him. With a sigh he tries to focus on other things “Y/n….sweetheart…you know I didn’t mean it like that….*tshoo*…it's just…*tshoo* as much as I love you…I also really like to breath…” You look at him, forehead crinkled, eyes squint together and with a weary “Huh” you keep rubbing your face against Sam’s hand. “Hey…how does this sound to you, funsize…” you knew it would be coming at some point. You weren’t that tiny normally. Nearly as tall as Dean it was something different, and you knew he would now never stop calling you this for the rest of your life. “I head to the pharmacy and see if I can get my clumsy brother some medicaments against his allergy and he calls Rowena to check out if we can get you back to normal!” You start purring at the thought of Dean hugging around you in his sleep like he always did. Stopping immediately as you heard said one growl, just as Sam stopped rubbing your head. “'m… sorry…” he stutters and blushes deep red shifting uncomfortable from one leg to the other, hurrying to change the subject: “*tshoo* how did you get turned into a freaking cat anyway?” “So you remember you sent me alone to one of the pet shops? Yeah…turns out it's not a good idea to accept candy from strangers and eat it when you're on a witch hunt…” you sigh at the end of your short explanation and sit down on Sams lap. He starts rubbing your head again and you feel the purr raising in your chest but looking at your boyfriend you swallowed hard and hoped back on the washed out AC/DC shirt. “Better, love?” A shaky breath escapes his lips and he nods showing his approval. “Much better, thanks y/n/…” he sits down next to you and reaches for his phone. “Sam? You go to the pharmacy and I try to call Rowena? Y/n can't stay as a cat…” “Honey? You know…that you shouldn’t mix allergy meds with…you know…” oh man. That felt like telling him you were pregnant… “With alcohol…” Eyes widening he lets go of the phone, the bump letting you twitch. “What exactly do you mean by: Should not?!” He swallows hard and fixates you with his emerald swollen eyes. “I…I mean…oh man! It means, that I don’t want to bring you to the hospital! Especially not when I'm a cat and can't explain why I'm a fucking talking cat!” a small hiss leaving your mouth and your ears sticking to your head. Sam laughs and stretches a bit. “Ok guys, while you two discuss this, I'll head to the pharmacy and get the med. And while I do that I'll directly check on the witch. I think we should get rid of her before more people end up like this!” with that he disappears and a moment later you hear babys engine row. You lock your eyes on Deans strong silhouette, watching how his body tensed and another sneeze shook his body. “I could also sleep in baby, you know?” he looks at you with wet eyes, his voice sounding like his nose finally got clogged. “Oh yeah! What a great idea! You'll catch a cold and I'll have to take care of it! Not on my watch, Winchester!” Your ears twitching as you try to lift a nonexistent eyebrow. He sighs again and reaches his hand for your paw. Immediately you remember his allergy and move just out of his reach. Eyes glued to his long fingers that are searching for the comforting touch he needed right now. “Just promise me that this won't be a forever state…and that you're going to make pie once we're back at the bunker…” He smiles weakly at you and his hand falls flat against the mattress with another deep-drawn sigh escaping his lips. He grabs one of the tissues Sam had left on the nightstand.

#spn imagines #dean x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #spn #supernatural imagines

40 notes · View notes

elejah-wonderland · 5 years

Text

Always/2

Fanfiction

Part 2

Elijah Mikaelson x reader/Elena

Summary: Elijah Mikaelson and Y/N/E are happily married. But night everything changes. What has disrupted their life- read and find out.

a/n: thanks so much for reading, and all your likes. xoxo

tags @rissyrapp20 @cassienoble2000 @dendrite-lover @captainshurley @hides2000

__________

Dream sequence

"I am so happy!!"- Y/N/E says kissing Elijah, smiling as she pulls him onto bed with her. "Oh, me too. Eloping was the best idea"- Elijah says slowly working his way through the side buttons of her wedding dress as she places kisses on his nose, on his cheek, on his lips, on his neck, feeling how his hand slides through the opening of the dress around her back making her tremble with passion arising . "I so want you"- she makes a little gasp as their eyes meet for a second. "Always-"-he gasps back. "Always!"- Elena mutters and as he moves forward to kiss her she is not there. He frantically gets up and walks through a door into nothing.

The buzzing now broke Elijah from sweet dream. Looking around, he reached for the phone on the night stand. Seeing it was Dr Fell’s number, he swiped it open in a flash-

”Hello-"-he said with a hollow feeling in his stomach kicking in. For some strange reason, his first thought is panic.

"Dr Fell here-"-Meredith said. "Yes-"-Elijah said cutting in. "Your wife- Y/N/E- woke up-" "What- she did? Really?"- his voice was elated not entirely comprehending still if this was a dream or reality.

Meredith continued- "Yes, your wife is awake. I will speak to you when you get here."

"Yes. I am on my way"- Elijah said and they both hung up.

He dressed as fast as he could. Taking his car keys, he now called Miranda Gilbert to let her know Y/N/E got out of the vegetative state, as he solemnly promised her he would and then Rebekah, who jumped out of her bed after hearing the news.

As he was driving to the hospital, he tried the fight a terrible thought out of his mind- something is not right- Meredith sounded way too serious. Something is not right. Something is not right. Please, let it be right.

In the hospital

Meredith and her team had already done the first tests as Y/N/E woke up. It was two hours earlier.

Though it was 6.a.m., she now placed a call to her colleague, who was the best in the field of neurology and post-coma recovery.

"Hey, Stefan"- Meredith said-"I hope you had your run already"

"Yes. Just got out, I’m having some breakfast. I guess it must be something important to call me so early"-Stefan said.

"Oh, yes. Y/N/E Mikaelson is awake"

"Finally"- Stefan said-"so, the new meds worked?!"

"They did. I need you to come and do some more tests. I am flying to Italy to a conference this afternoon, and I need you to take over for me till I get back"

"Sure. I'll be there in half an hour"- Stefan confirmed.

"Thanks"- Meredith hung up and went to get all preliminary analysis from the team.

And Y/N/E? She looked at everyone like a scared animal, trying to comprehend what was going on. She tried to say something, but her brain was not letting her and feeling a frustration set in, she just made an uncontrollable sound.

*Whatever challenge life throws in front of you, never stop, never kneel down and think this it, you can't do way more, If you are beaten down, you keep being kicked over and over again, You get up and you dust yourself off And walk with your head held high

Words came floating out of nowhere into Y/N/E's head.

"Don't strain yourself"- dr Black, one of the neurologist of the team, said to Y/N/E now -"Dr Meredith will do some more tests, and for now just answer these questions by blinking with your eyes- once for yes and two for no. And if you are not sure hold your hand up. Ok?"

Y/N/E blinked once. Feeling a tad bit calmer.

“Good.” - dr Balck said smiling reassuringly-”Can we go on?”

Y/N/E blinked again for a yes.

And they proceeded with the tests.

By that time Elijah had arrived with Rebekah following right behind him, they were still going through with the last test. He wanted to get in Y/N/E's room, but he was asked to wait a little while longer.

"What is going on? Please tell me! I need to know - whatever it is-"-he said nervously looking at Rose, who now tried to calm him down by telling him that they were still with Y/N/E running the last tests.

Rebekah calmed Elijah down making him see that it was routine like Rose had explained.

Elijah, who had always been the most comprehensive and patient one, now walked through the doors of the unit where Y/N/E's room was. Rebekah followed him. And as he nearly got to the room, Meredith got out almost bumping into him.

"Oh, Mr Mikaelson-?!"- Meredith was startled a bit.

Elijah gathered himself a bit now taking a step back realizing that his emotions completely took over him- "I apologize-I just-"

"It's all right. I understand. Please- let me tell you first -"

"Is she all right? What is going on?"-Elijah asked.

Before Meredith could answer, Miranda and Greyson burst in and having picked up on Elijah's anxiety now urged Meredith to speak.

"Calm down, please. Y/N/E is fine, but not entirely. Not just yet.Can we go to my office and I will explain"- Meredith said and urged them to follow her to the nurses station, where she could explain exactly what the first results were showing and how they will approach Y/N/E.

"She is still very disorientated. Her speech is impaired, and she can only answer questions with mimics. She does comprehend where she is, and the EEG and CT scan show no brain damage, but she suffers a great memory loss. When asked about her name she could not answer with a yes, but with 'I am not sure'. So, when you get in you need to be very calm, positive. Don't get alarmed if she is not responding to you at all."

Elijah nodded. His heart was joyous but at the same time felt like it was pierced with a dull knife.

As he was her next of kin, he had the right to go first, which had bothered Greyson immensely.

"We will never get rid of these Mikaelsons"- he sifted trying very hard to keep his cool.

"Not today Greyson, please!"- Miranda pleaded.

At the same time, Elijah just passed by Rebekah signaling silently with his eyes that things were equally good and bad, to which Rebekah just sighed a little and made a small prayer for things to get better. She sat down and now answered both messages Kol and Klaus sent, as she had notified them as well about the whole going ons.

There were challenges in their lives. They faced them all. Now another one looms in front of them. And it felt like he was walking through the darkest night for quite some time now. And the phone call felt like the dawn broke finally. The sun is here... to rise. But not yet. Not just yet. One challenge more. Nevermind. They will meet it head on, as they have always done.Together.

Elijah walked in the room putting a wholehearted smile on, his eyes sparkling with the grandest happiness as he comes near her.

"Y/N/E-"- he said dearly-"hello there"

She looked back at him with her charcoal warm eyes. Blank.

"It's me. Elijah"- he sat down on the chair that was put beside the bed for him.

Y/N/E now let just the sound of the first letter of his name.

"E..."- but she could not pronounce his name. She moved her head towards Davina putting her hand up slightly. Then again she turned to face Elijah again. Now blinking twice with her eyes.

"Darling- what is it? Sweetheart- I didn't mean to upset you"- Elijah said dearly now reaching for her hand.

Davina now came forward seeing Y/N/E being tad bit agitated-

"All is fine. Don't strain yourself. "

And then she turned to Elijah, and now blinked twice with her eyes for no.

"I am so sorry. She doesn't recognize you." - Davina said.

Elijah took a silent breath as this came as blow, even though he knew this could be her probable reaction.

"Small steps"- Davina said seeing this so many times with other patients and their loved ones, not responding as they had hoped they would.

Elijah nodded and looked at Y/N/E who seemed to have relaxed a bit. She closed her eyes for a moment. He caressed her hand with his thumb gently. It seemed she didn't mind that. She was calm, now just looking at him, with eyes of a lost vulnerable deer.

“My darling”- Elijah muttered, swallowing his tears.

____

Meanwhile

Kol an Klaus waited for Rebekah in a restaurant for lunch. Ever since Y/N/E's accident Elijah shut down an had not spoken to them at all. She was the bridge between them and him.

Flashback

Few days before Y/N/E's attack

"I don't understand how you and Kol still don't see that the Gilberts are full of pain and they are blinded by it"

"It's not that. But I have to support mother and father, and Kol. This whole witch-hunt against Kol has damaged our business. It gave us a bad name and people have pulled out of five of our most important projects."-Klaus said adding -"Mother said to invite you both to father's birthday party next weekend"

"What? No. And treated Y/N/E like a ghost. She doesn't deserve this."- Elijah pointed out.

"And the Gilberts? How do they treat you? You said that Greyson asked you not to come to his house again?!"- Klaus reminded his brother-"and you were just there to pick Y/N/E up."

"I can't believe I am hearing this. So, now you are going to ignore her, too?"

"I am not saying that, but this will be hard."

Rebekah strolled in and waved a little at them as she saw them sitting at their favourite table. Once, the four of them had the greatest time there, always joking, but also sharing the hardest moments. But that seemed like thousand years ago.

Finally, Rebekah sat down and ordered a large Cosmopolitan.

"It's that bad?!"- Kol said by the way his sister ordered her drink.

Rebekah updated them fully.

"How is Elijah?"- Klaus then asked.

"What do you think?"- Rebekah said taking a sip of her drink.

"I tried to call him"- Kol said-"but he had just blocked me. This cannot go on like that anymore. We messed up. But we really want Y/N/E to be all right. In all this- Elijah, has always tried to do his best for everyone, and now is paying the highest price. And I don't know how to make this better."

"It's not you guys, you know that. He just broke. Remember what they had said back then when she just got out of the surgery "- Rebekah said.

"They don't think she would ever wake up"- Klaus murmured concluding.

"How is he going to tell her that they lost the baby, too- huh- can we ever get a break-"Rebekah said.

"I am going over to him, tonight!"- Kol said resolved.

"It's not a good idea"- Rebekah said.

"It's never going to be a good idea."- Klaus remarked-"but we have to break this silence somehow. And maybe it is good that he kicks and screams at us. I am ready to take anything he will dish out"

"Me, too"- Kol said.

Rebekah sighed a little, but knowing her brothers, she knew that whatever she said now would not matter.

****

In the hospital Meredith introduced Dr Stefan Salvatore to Elijah. As Y/N/E was fell in her vegetative state nearly a year ago, Elijah spent researching about patients who were in the same condition as his wife, as well as about the recovery once they wake up. He knew of different rehabilitation centers already, and among others, he knew exactly what Stefan's center offered-

"Nice to meet you"- Elijah said-"I have considered your Rehabilitation Center. If I choose you I want the best team to work with my wife, with Y/N/E. I am willing to make a substantial donation for all your other programs as well."

"I was informed that you have already donated, not once. It helped so much with the research."- Stefan said.

"Yes. I- well-"- Elijah sighed-"Sorry that I spoke about money, the donations. You have to excuse me. I - can we reschedule this- Tomorrow?"- Elijah said suddenly feeling like his head was going to explode if he stayed with them a little while longer.

"Of course. Here is my card. Call me anytime you want."- Stefan said.

"Thank you."- Elijah took the card and apologized once again for cutting the meeting short.

Both Meredith and Stefan were very understanding. It was an extremely overwhelming day for him.

As he got out of Meredith's office, he went back to Y/N/E's room. But he didn't get in. He stayed outside, in the little corridor, looking through the window for a while. Y/N/E was now resting. Rose had just checked on her drip and seeing him there then came out to let him know that it was perfectly all right for him to get in.

"Thank you. I just - I feel like - I don't want to agitate her. Dr Fell explained how important it is that she stayed calm."- he said.

"I heard things didn't go well with her parents either"- Rose said-"I am sorry."

"It was all too much at once"- Elijah said-"but she will be fine."- he gazed at his wife as his heart drummed with hope.

Rose now left him.

"Always"- he whispered sending her a kiss putting his hand on the glass.

As he got out of the hospital, he went to walk fo a while. He needed to have a moment to himself, to take all that went on, in. His phone buzzed incisively, and he ignored every call. It was his family. Even his mother. He knew Rebekah had notified everyone. And he was not angry. But he felt he needed time on his own. His heart was heavy, but it was singing as well. She was awake. One day at the time. There is always hope. And hope had never left him.

****

Elsewhere

Rebekah let herself, Klaus and Kol into Elijah's apartment. This was not a clever move, knowing their brother would probably go ballistic, but they decided that it was the way it was going to be. A bit later, upon entering the apartment, Elijah was met by Rebekah, who told him straight out that Klaus and Kol were there as well. Elijah was calm at first when he entered the living room and then burst out shouting at them-

"I don't want you here. GET OUT"- gesturing with his hand to the door.

"No!"- Kol said-"we are not going anywhere! Not anymore! We all made a huge mistake for not coming to you earlier.Your pain is my pain. This is what you said to me when I was in jail and they wouldn't let me get bail. I was so self-absorbed in what was going on with me that I didn't get it. Then. And then, I got out-"

"I don't want to hear it."- Elijah cut him off moving aside again showing with his hand to the door-"please- I can't"

Klaus remained quiet, looking at Rebekah, who was now crying.

And Kol continued-"Please, let your pain be my pain now. Please!"

Elijah looked at his brother. He could see in his eyes, in his voice that he meant what he said.

Klaus then got up-

"We have failed you and we can't take that back. I wish I could, but we can't. Let us- start showing you that you are not alone. You have always been there for us. Don't shut us out anymore."

Elijah took a deep breath. He had no strength, he felt. And he needed it, more than ever before. He had to be strong for Y/N/E. He needed his siblings, all of them.

"I- just-"- Elijah said -"I-"

"Shush for once and let your younger brothers - and sister- help you! Be your punchbag, whatever! Yeah?"

Elijah nodded and the four of them went into a very clumsy siblings group hug.

It felt like a new dawn. Rebekah pulled out the Scarlett O'Hara quote out later as they sat down for a take away. Tomorrow is another day.

Tomorrow was another day. Get up, dust yourself off and carry on. No matter how hard it was, even when it was bleak. You always have yourself, but if you have the love an support of your family an friends, you can make the world move.

Elijah called Miranda to discuss his decision to have Y/N/E admitted in the Salvatore Clinic.

"They do have the best results in the Neuro-recovery program."- Elijah said.

"If you think so. I am eternally grateful to you for everything you have one for her."-Miranda said.

"I love you daughter. "- Elijah said

"I know. You have one all you could for Jeremy too. I am so sorry that Greyson can't see past the hate."

"He lost his only child. I understand"

"He loves Y/N/E as well, even though she is his brother's. How will she take all this? We never told her"

"None of this will be easy. It will all have to come in stages. I would like you to come to the meeting with Dr Salvatore"

"Thank you"- Miranda said.

"I will e-mail you all the details"-Elijah said and after exchanging goodbyes he went to the hospital.

For the first month, Stefan asked him to stay away. As they wanted to avoid strong emotional moments could distort her memory even more. At least until she had found her ground in the world again. Slowly integrating the story of her life, people and friends, who she was.

Elijah was there every day, meeting with her psychiatrists and speech therapist, updating him on Y/N/Es progress.

"She really shows great will to speak and that is so good"- Bonnie said-"she is pronouncing all the words quite correctly now, as she really doesn't want to use the computer as means of communication. So, tomorrow, when you meet her - don't be alarmed if she still slurs."

Elijah nodded-"Thank you Dr Bennett-Salvatore"

"I have not seen such strong will in a patient. I believe she will recovery fully."- Bonnie smiled a little- "she is quite remarkable"

"She is."- Elijah said flashing back to the time they first met.

Flashback

In a bar, ten years previously

"Come on, I have to introduce you to someone"- Sophie said to Elijah.

"Please, I really don't want to meet anyone. This another hook up you and Rebekah are planting on me. I am really not in the mood."

"It is not. She is a friend of a friend. She is an artist. Sculptor, actually. She is absolutely amazing- she is the one who made ‘The Woman with a Heart’"

"Ok?"- Elijah didn't know what his sister-in-love was talking about.

"Ugh! Don't you read papers? She won the award for it. Ah, nevermind."- Sophie was giving up.

And then Y/N/E came around the corner heading to the bar where Sophie and Elijah stood- and he looked at her as if an angel had descended from up above.

Sophie waved at her and Y/N/E came their way greeting them both in a sweet manner.

"Hey-"- Sophie said-"this is my brother-in- law Elijah Mikaelson"

Elijah and Y/N/E looked at one another as if lost in time and space.

Somehow at one point Elijah slipped a hello there- and Y/N/E repeated his name accentuating it in a special way-

"Elijah-" then making a slight pause introducing herself- "Y/N/E-"

"Y/N/E-"- he said dearly with a sweet smile flickering in his eyes.

That was the first time they met.

At home that night he was was wondering what it would be like. She didn't remember their first meeting. At least not yet. Tomorrow, it would be like meeting again for the first time. It didn't matter. What mattered was that she was recovering. That her physical health was showing great improvement, and with that her mental health would too. Stefan reassured him on the daily basis.

Rebekah, Kol and Klaus gave him the biggest boost ever that evening when they came for supper, as they all noticed that how strung up he was.

“So, this is going to be like every evening now?”- he said as he got in the apartment.

“Get used to it”- Klaus said handing him a glass of the best Bourbon.

“Thank you.”- Elijah said tearing up now.

“Hey - this is what brothers and a sister are for. “_ Kol said now patting his brother on the arm a bit.

Elijah sighed and nodded a little.

“Come on, let’s eat then”- Rebekah invited them now to the dining room.

The siblings now all went to eat together, and the night was spent revoking great memories from the childhood as well as Elijah’s escapades with Y/N/E.

The next day, just before he entered her room, he spoke briefly to Damon, who was Y/N/E's speech therapist.

"She is waiting for you"- Damon said-"she has practiced your name quite a lot - she is ready."

"Right"- Elijah said, feeling strangely nervous. With a little nod from both Bonnie, who also was there, he now entered the room.

Y/N/E was at the window, and as he got in, she turned around, putting a little smile on.

"Eli-jah"- she said.

"Y/N/E-hello"

"Hello-"- she paused a little and then said- "how- are you?"

"How am I?"- Elijah said faintly and tried to keep his tears at bay- walking towards her slowly-"I am fine". Y/N/E sat down on the chair at a little table. He pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. She looked well, even though her eyes still had a glimmer of being lost. He could see that they were looking at him as this stranger. Bonnie had told him that she had not recognized anyone from the photos they had been showing her. But that she only associated names with them.

"You are my - hus-band"- Y/N/E said.

"Yes. I am your husband"- Elijah said and clumsily now continued-"ahm- here- these are flowers I brought for you. They are your favourite"

Elijah now passed her the bunch of flowers that she took, and immediately went to smell them. It was something she had always done whenever he brought the flowers to her.

"Wha-t are the-y?"- Y/N/E asked.

"Sweet peas"- Elijah said.

"And this-"- Y/N/E then took a photo that was standing on the little table- "you and me"

"Yes. You and me. That was taken on our first anniversary."- Elijah said.

"Annive-"- Y/N/E was not sure what the word meant.

"The celebration- one year after we got married. We had a party. You have always loved that photo of us. And I brought more."- Elijah now took the album out of the bag he had brought putting it on the table.

"Show-show me"- Y/N/E said.

"Ok"- he took the album out and handed it to here. Y/N/E now flicked it open.

_______________

#Elijah Mikaelson #Elijah Mikaelson x reader #Elena Gilbert #ElenaxElijah #tvd fanfiction #Fanfiction #alternative universe

16 notes · View notes

zoemurph · 6 years

Text

to have a friend, chapter 10: $233

on ao3 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

haha im dying!

thank you for being patient. i have one essay left, a group project (that includes another essay :P), a final quiz, a flash fiction piece, and a final. and i'm done with my first semester of college? i'm actually...taking next semester off so...probably more consistent updates after this. phew. oh and i won nano? wild

i'm exhausted and genuinely don't like at least 75% of this chapter, but it's done. please please p l e a s e read the end notes for a little disclaimer thanks

warnings: anxiety, depression, panic attacks, let me know if any other warnigns should be added

enjoy~

Sometimes Connor has the really strong urge to hold Evan’s hand.

It’s a weird feeling. This desire to just reach out and take Evan’s hand in his own and not even say anything, just hold it.

Sometimes Connor thinks that romantic feelings are bullshit. Especially when it’s seven in the morning and Evan sees him waiting by the locker and lights up like the goddamn sun and Connor’s stomach tries to become an Olympic gymnast.

Like right now.

Evan stands next to Connor, their arms almost touching, as he talks to Alana. They’re still trying to figure out a name for their club, because for whatever reason, Alana refuses to use The Fuck Project.

Jared thinks it’s hilarious, which has somehow worked against the name.

Alana is going on about the details. Evan nods, and he probably knows what’s going on, but Connor’s zoned out. Alana has this in the bag and also Connor isn’t actually involved in their little pet project. Even if the initial idea did come from Alana being way too fucking nosy.

She’s nice when she’s not picking Connor’s brain.

So Alana and Evan talk and Connor stands and people pass them and time until the next class starts ticks down and down and down. It’s a nice moment. Weirdly calm. For once, Connor doesn’t feel entirely awful, despite where he is and everything about himself.

He still wants to hold Evan’s hand.

It’s not like Connor actively tries to think about it. The opposite, in fact. As soon as thoughts about dating Evan pop up, he shoves them to the very back of his brain. He quarantines them away in the darkest corners, because thinking about it hurts.

Evan has made himself a constant in Connor’s life. But a temporary constant. Which is weird and annoying and tiring. Sometimes Connor’s emotions bubble up inside him and threaten to spill out and then Evan will give him this look when Connor pays him and everything just vanishes. Evan looks at Connor and all Connor’s thoughts shrink back and go ‘fuck never mind’.

That doesn’t mean that he’s actually good about not thinking it. He’s getting worse, actually. It’s turning into a mild problem.

Evan can just look at Connor and Connor’s heart will flip and his mind will be consumed with ‘holy fuck I would date the shit out of him’.

He would. Connor has absolutely zoned out staring at Evan on multiple occasions. He keeps passing it off as being tired and honestly it’s a miracle that Evan hasn’t started asking about Connor’s sleep schedule— which is a disaster but isn’t why Connor keeps staring Evan.

Connor keeps staring at Evan because his brain is a fucking traitor and likes to think about what it would be like to kiss Evan.

Of all the boys to fall in love with, Connor had to go and fall in love with Evan Hansen.

Connor checks his phone under his desk. It’s been facedown on his desk — he’s making an attempt in calculus because he’s doing a really shit job right now and he has to pass because he literally cannot spend a day longer in this hellscape than he has to — but he can see the screen lighting up repeatedly.

From: Ev To: Connor AR eyou in clasright no w Of cours e youre in c alss where els e wi oudl you b Im so ryrcan you g et out ?

Connor squints at the board. There are x’s and t’s and some other bullshit that he doesn’t understand. A lot of lines and marks.

Fuck.

He opens another conversation.

From: dickbag To: assface you any good at calc?

Jared replies surprisingly fast. Actually, not so surprisingly. Connor is actually not surprised at all that Jared uses his phone in class.

From: assface To: dickbag ive got a mean b in calc bc y

Connor raises his hand and asks to go to the bathroom. The teacher waves him out the door and keeps teaching.

From: assface To: dickbag i have to do something and i need to not fail you willing to tell me what the fuck is happening?

From: Connor To: Ev where are you? got out of class

Connor heads to the bathroom, because he’s already on the third floor and that’s where Evan was last time. And it’s the closest bathroom. His phone buzzes in his hand as he hurries through the hall and he tries not to groan when it’s just Jared.

From: dickbag To: assface no promises but i can try dont know y ur coming to me lmao also i charge $10/hr

From: assface To: dickbag fine but youre a dick

Connor pushes the bathroom door open. The lights are on, someone’s been in here in the past ten minutes, but the bathroom is empty. He drags his hand through his hair and catches a look at himself in the mirror.

Wow. He looks like shit.

Connor rubs his face and checks his phone again. It’s been buzzing, but it’s just been Jared.

From: dickbag To: assface not news whats so important that ur running out of class?? o shit drugs? 420 blaze it i dont kno weed culture

As Connor scrolls through Jared’s messages, a text from Evan pops up on the top of his screen.

From: Ev To: Connor J aanito s clostesecond follr

Connor runs into a wide eyed freshman as he hurries out of the bathroom and swings around a corner to get to the stairs. He only vaguely knows where that closet it, because he’s never had a reason to pay attention to it. Janitor’s closets are usually locked and it’s not like Connor is observant when it comes to his surroundings.

He skips the last few steps and just jumps down to the landing, slowing to a fast walk as he searches the hallway for the janitor’s closet. He finds it tucked into a corner between two classrooms. He glances up and down the hallway before he knocks softly. He tries the handle and knocks again before he pulls the door open.

“Evan?” he asks softly into the darkened closet. Light from the hallway spills into the darkness, barely brushing Evan’s shoes. Evan is huddled into the corner furthest away from the door, squished between shelves, on the ground with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms covering his head.

Connor stares for a minute, listening to Evan’s ragged breathing, before he steps into the closet. He turns on his phone’s flashlight and covers it with his hand before pulling the door closed. He lets some light slip through his fingers and finds a bottle of Windex on one of the shelves. He puts his phone under it and the room glows blue. Maybe life hacks aren’t always as shitty as they seem.

Connor sits down on the floor next to Evan. “Ev,” he whispers. “Can I help?”

Evan doesn’t look up. After a few seconds he stops holding on to his hair so tightly and holds a shaking hand out to Connor. Connor takes it. Almost immediately, Evan’s hand clenches around Connor’s, squeezing Connor’s fingers tightly. Connor moves over so the position is less awkward and lightly squeezes Evan’s hand back.

Connor sits and waits, because he doesn’t really know what else to do. He watches Evan’s breathing and tries not to let his mind wander too much, because it’s too early in the day for any of that shit.

Evan loosens his grip on Connor’s hand and the tension seems to run out of his body. He sags against the wall and slowly lifts his head from his knees. He pulls his hand away. “S-sor-sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Connor says. His voice sounds weirdly rough. He clears it and stretches out his fingers.

Evan stares at them. “I— i-if I hurt your…your hand I didn’t mean to I just—”

“You didn’t,” Connor interrupts quickly. “See?” He wiggles his fingers. “Work just fine.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Do you…uh, want to talk about it?”

Evan makes a strangled sound. “N-nothing to… I mean there’s always—” He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. “D-dr. Sherman always says that— that there’s something? And I just don’t u-understand what so I’m…supposed to process it. But I just…”

“I think it’s a fucking lot to ask you to process shit right after a panic attack,” Connor says flatly.

Evan shrugs helplessly. “I don’t— I-I forget. I forget what I’m— what I feel in the moment a-and what I was thinking and then when she asks what was going through my mind I can’t tell her and then I feel worse and like a failure and I think I’m supposed to be getting better because I go to therapy and I take meds and—” Evan cuts himself off to take a deep breath. “It takes time,” Evan says softly. “It takes time. It takes time and it’ll get better it just—”

“Takes time?” Connor asks.

Evan smiles at him weakly. “Y-yeah.”

The bell rings, slightly muffled. Evan goes tense.

Connor thinks about his calculus teacher. She probably won’t be thrilled that he skipped out on the rest of class, but whatever. Maybe he’ll do homework for once and try to get back on her disinterested side.

“Your mom is working right now, isn’t she?” Connor asks slowly.

Evan nods. “Yeah, she’s a-always working. Pretty much.”

“We’ve still got three classes to get through.” Connor bumps their knees together. “Can you hide out in the nurse’s office or something? I’d say just leave, but…” Evan shakes his head. “Yeah, exactly. I don’t know shit about doing things the ‘right’ way.”

“I’ll…be okay,” Evan says.

Connor stares at him.

“It’s-it’s really fine,” Evan insists.

“Ev—”

“I’ve done it before, it’s not a big… I’ll just— it’s okay, really.”

“You aren’t taking the bus home today,” Connor says. He gets to his feet and takes the Windex off of his phone. “Light warning.” Evan covers his eyes. Connor flicks the light on and winces in the brightness before shutting off his flashlight. He slides his phone into his pocket and offers Evan his hand.

Evan takes it and lets Connor haul him to his feet. “Y-you don’t have to—”

“Fuck the bus,” Connor interrupts. “Zoe has a perfectly good car.”

Evan blinks. “Doesn’t she have rehearsal today?”

“How do you know my sister’s schedule better than I do?” Connor opens the door of the closet and peers out into the hallway. They have to be careful, because high school is fucking hell. Most people won’t give a shit and don’t pay attention to shit, but all it takes is one person assuming something. When no one is looking, he steps out of the closet and pulls Evan along, walking away from the closet quickly and melting into the thinning crowd. “So what if we have to wait for her to get out, just hang around with me for a little bit.”

As soon as Connor says it, his stomach twists. “I don’t have any today but—”

Evan stops walking, yanking Connor back a bit. They’re still holding hands. Connor pulls his away and puts his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt.

“D-don’t,” Evan says.

Connor furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“You’re already— you’re doing me a favor by…by driving me home. So you don’t have to…” Evan gestures with his hands. “Debt paid. It’s— you’re fine.” Connor stares at him. “I— okay.”

Evan takes a step back. “I have to… I have class. I’ll see you after.” He spins on his heel and walks down the hallway, dodging other students before disappearing around a corner.

—«·»—

Connor drops into his seat in the back of AP Literature and puts his head down on his desk.

He needs to think about something — anything — other than Evan. Evan is supposed to be the one who thinks himself into an anxious spiral, not Connor. And Connor can’t help but feel like something is horribly wrong.

But, fuck, he wouldn’t stop their arrangement for anything. He’ll keep paying Evan to put up with him in the halls for as long as he possibly can, just to see Evan smile.

He wants to see Evan smile today. Anything other than the empty expression he had on his face when he walked away from Connor earlier.

Alana sits down next to Connor. Sometimes Connor forgets him and Alana talk now, even if it’s only because she’s Evan’s friend and probably thinks this is a good way to keep tabs on Evan. All she’s ever wanted from Connor is information, anyway.

Connor stares out the window at the icy field hockey field spread out in front of the school as the teacher starts the lesson. Something about the essay they have due in a few days at midnight.

Alana hands over her essay, printed and typed, five pages long double spaced and stapled in the corner. “It’s just a rough draft,” she says.

Connor blinks at the paper. “Uh…were we supposed to…”

She shakes her head. “No, we just needed to have an outline today.” She adjusts her glasses and opens a notebook. “But if you didn’t—”

“I did,” Connor says quickly. He actually did for once. “Here.” He pulls out his notebook and flips through pages and pages of shitty sketches to the section where he just stuffs any loose papers he’s handed. He pulls out the outline and smooths it out a little. “Don’t expect anything.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Alana says as she takes it from him.

Connor squints at her. “I did this while high so it’s either a brilliant disaster or just a fucking mess.”

Alana grins. “I hope it’s a brilliant disaster.”

“Probably not.”

She just shrugs and pulls out a pen, tapping it on her notebook as she skims over the outline. Connor turns to Alana’s essay and starts reading. Alana likes words and complex sentences. She’s good at backing up her points with evidence from the text, and doesn’t dance around her conclusions. She has a structure and logic to her essay that Connor’s never been able to achieve. He just sort of says words until he feels like he’s done.

He reads her fourth paragraph a few times, picking at his nail polish as he does so. He glances over to Alana and then reads it again.

She’s scribbling on his outline when he looks back to her. She meets his eyes. “Something wrong?”

Connor’s eyes flick from her to her essay. “Uh…no.”

Alana rolls her eyes and hands him her pen. “Fix it. Whatever it is. That’s the entire point of peer review.”

“I could be wrong—” Connor starts, but Alana holds up a hand to stop him.

“I’ll decide what to do with your feedback. Just do it.”

Connor nods slowly and hesitates with the pen hovering over the paper. “What are you doing, by the way?”

“Translating.”

“What?”

Alana pulls another pen from her backpack and uncaps it. “Your outline is good, you have some really good ideas in here, it’s just lost in the typos and grammar.”

“I can figure it out,” Connor says. “You don’t have to do that shit.”

Alana raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Connor blinks. “…not anymore?”

She nods firmly. “Exactly. You edit mine, I’ll edit yours. You won’t hurt my feelings, please, feel free to rip it to shreds.”

Connor exhales slowly. “Okay, Beck. Whatever.” He strikes out a sentence. “Whatever you say.”

—«·»—

Connor meets Evan by Evan’s locker. They lock eyes and for a second everything feels weird. And then Jared shows up.

Connor has never been relieved to see Jared Kleinman before.

“What’s up?” Jared asks, clapping a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “My…main bros.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“Alright, crossing that off the list.” Jared gives Evan a look and Evan shrugs. Connor looks between them and shifts his weight to his other foot. “Anyway, you free on Saturday?” he asks Evan.

Evan blinks. “Y-yes?”

“My moms wanted you over for dinner. They’re going to try to harass Heidi into coming too but,” Jared shrugs, “we know how that is.”

Evan smiles and ducks his head. “I-I mean— yeah that’d be…that’d be nice. Um, I can…ask my mom?”

“Nice.” Jared holds his fist out for a fist bump. Evan rolls his eyes and knocks their knuckles together. “Okay, text me, cause if she’s working, I’ll swing by and pick you up.”

Evan nods. “O-okay, I will.”

“Sweet, got to dash or I’ll never get out of here.” Jared shoots finger guns at Connor. “See, ya Murph,” he says before sprinting down the hallway.

Connor lifts a hand to wave goodbye as jealousy twists in his stomach. It makes him feel gross. He swallows it and turns to Evan. “So, uh…we can probably hide in a practice room until Zoe’s done.”

Evan pulls on the straps of his backpack. “A-are they, um, open? Because I know, I mean I’ve heard because sometimes the band kids in my classes complain about this, that they lock? Or get locked? So…”

“We can…check?” Connor suggests.

Evan nods. “That’s…probably a good idea.”

Connor leads Evan down to the music wing. The first two practice rooms are locked, but the third that they try is unlocked. Connor raises his eyebrows at Evan and pushes the door open. The lights flicker on automatically and Evan closes the door behind them.

All four of the practice rooms are the same in Connor’s experience, a keyboard and bench, a trash, and maybe a stand or chair that someone has dragged in. Except one, that for some reason, has two pianos. They lucked out and that is exactly the room they’re in. Less room, but it doesn’t really matter.

Evan puts his bag down on one of the piano benches and then sits on the floor in the space between the end of the piano and the wall.

Connor coughs. “Uh…are you…okay?” He winces. Yikes.

“Tired,” Evan says softly.

Connor glances to the light switch before pressing the button to turn off the lights. There’s still a decent amount of light from the window in the door, but it’s darker. Connor puts down his bag and joins Evan on the floor. Evan looks up at him.

“Take a nap,” Connor suggests.

Evan blinks at him.

Connor sighs. “Scoot over.”

Evan moves so he’s as close to the piano as he can get. Connor squeezes into the space between Evan and the wall. There’s way more space in these practice rooms than it seems, the pianos make them look small.

Connor pulls on the sleeve of Evan’s sweatshirt. “Just lean on me. More comfortable than the wall, probably, though I’m basically all bone.”

“Y-you sure?”

Connor rolls his eyes because it feels right. “I wouldn’t be offering if I wasn’t. Close your eyes, Ev.”

“Okay,” Evan whispers. He rests his head on Connor’s shoulder. “Wake me up if your arm falls asleep.”

“Sure,” Connor lies.

A few minutes later, Evan’s breathing starts to even out. When Connor is sure that he’s asleep, he carefully pulls his phone out of his pocket.

From: C To: Z waiting in practice room c evans napping so dont come in just knock or some shit

Once he’s sent the texts, he puts his phone down and turns his attention back to Evan. Connor turns his head to look down at Evan, and when his nose brushes Evan’s hair, his heart goes into double time.

Fuck.

—«·»—

Connor thinks he’s drifted off when Zoe finally knocks on the door. He inhales sharply and sits up straighter, eyes wide. He leans forward to see Zoe standing in front of the door with her guitar on her back and her saxophone in hand.

He leans back and sighs. Okay.

Connor shakes Evan’s shoulder. “Ev, Ev wake up. Zoe’s done.”

Evan groans and blinks blearily. “Huh?”

Connor’s breath catches in his throat. He finds himself lost in Evan’s sleepy eyes for a moment too long and hopes Evan’s still too asleep to notice. “Zoe,” he says. “We can go home now.”

“Oh.” Evan pulls himself to his feet using the piano. About halfway up, he grabs Connor’s arm and pulls Connor up as well.

They grab their bags and open the door.

“Sleep well?” Zoe asks with a smirk.

Connor flips her off behind Evan.

Evan shrugs. “I-it was the floor.”

Connor takes Zoe’s saxophone from her. “Let’s go. I have an essay to write.”

Zoe blinks. “You do?”

“Unfortunately,” he grumbles.

The parking lot is blissfully empty when they step outside. The air is bitter and cold, and Connor wishes that it would just snow more than half an inch so the burning cold is worth it. He grabs Evan’s arm when Evan slips on ice and Zoe makes an offhanded comment about driving and black ice.

“You know?” she says to Evan.

Evan blinks. “N-no, I don’t— I don’t drive?”

Zoe frowns. “Do you take the bus?”

Evan turns pink, and Connor wonders if he’s redder because of the cold or not. “Yeah, it’s…yeah.”

Zoe looks to Connor.

“What?” Connor asks.

“What time does the bus pick you up?” Zoe asks.

“Uh…” Evan slows his walk. “I— around like…6:35?”

Zoe purses her lips. “Okay. Monday? We can swing by and pick you up.” She twirls her car keys around her finger. “Unless you hate my music choices as much as Connor does.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Evan says quickly.

“Too late,” Zoe sing songs. She unlocks the car and pops the trunk open. She puts her guitar in and then takes her saxophone from Connor. “We’d be happy to, right Connor?”

“Duh,” Connor says. “The bus is bullshit.”

“Good for the environment,” Evan says. “P-public transport!”

“We’re already using this car.” Zoe slams the trunk shut. “So it doesn’t actually matter. No additional cars on the road, just one less Evan the a bus.”

“Uh…”

“Sleep on it.” She rubs her arms. “Let’s go before I freeze.” She glances to Connor as she moves to the driver’s side. “How are you alive?”

Connor shrugs and pulls open the car door. He slides into the backseat next to Evan. “Can’t feel cold if you’re dead inside.”

Zoe twists around in her seat to glare at him before shutting the door. She turns on the car, blasts the heat even though it’s just air at the moment, and plugs her phone in. “Today we’re listening to Billy Joel,” she announces. “Get over it Connor.”

Connor just leans his forehead against the cold window as Uptown Girl plays from the speakers.

Zoe asks for directions a few times, but for the most part, they drive in silence aside from the Billy Joel in the slowly warming car.

Connor sits up when they arrive at Evan’s. “I’ll text you,” he says.

Evan gives him a smile. “Y-yeah. Thanks for the ride.”

“I’ll see you Monday at 6:40!” Zoe calls out before he shuts the door. She turns to look at Connor. “You moving up?”

“I guess.” Connor unbuckles and climbs over the center consul to get into the passenger seat. He buckles back in and Zoe backs out of the driveway.

“So…” she says slowly. “You and Evan.”

“What about us?” Connor asks flatly.

Zoe glances to him. “Anything…up?”

“Do you want me to say it?”

“No, but I can’t stop you from doing shit.”

“The sky.”

Zoe rolls her eyes. “Great, now that that’s out of the way—”

“Nothing,” Connor interrupts. “Can’t two people be friends?”

“Well, yeah, obviously.” Zoe taps on the steering wheel. “You just seem like more than that.”

Connor scoffs. More like barely that. “We aren’t.”

“Do you want to be?”

Connor stares at the road. “The light is green.”

Connor spends most of his Saturday writing his paper. Because Alana had written all over his outline and now he feels obligated to make something half decent out of the genius she turned his bullshit into. Also, she shared her essay with him on google docs the night before for him to edit — he does not know why the fuck she did that and hates the fact that school emails are standardized so she didn’t even have to ask for his email — and offered to edit his in return. He’s not going to give up that opportunity. He’s doing fine in english but another solid essay grade can get his parents to calm down for at least a day.

He texts Evan and draws when he’s not writing. The other weekend, Cynthia dragged him off to the store with her, so he threw a cheap set of kids’ watercolors in the cart. And a box of Capri sun. He sits on his floor and drinks a Capri sun while he waits for a painting to dry. Evan is making lunch right now, so it’ll be a few minutes before he responds. Evan doesn’t usually text Connor while he’s making food, apparently the risk of fire is higher than normal, and that’s not just Evan’s anxiety talking.

Evan had texted him the night before thanking him for the ride home. Connor had replied ‘what are friends for’ and then threw his phone across the room so he didn’t have to read Evan’s response. It didn’t end up mattering, because Evan’s next text wasn’t sent until this morning, and it was a frantic apology because he fell asleep before responding.

Connor just said it was fine and changed the subject as fast as he could.

Connor sighs and gets to his feet. As he waits for the painting to dry, he’s really fucking impatient, he takes pictures of some of his least shitty doodles from class and posts them on a randomass tumblr he made after Evan suggested posting his art online. Mostly Connor did it out of curiosity, he didn’t really use the site otherwise, just posts drawings and then vanishes for a few days, but it’s also good because it means he has somewhere where all his art was stored digitally. He might’ve accidentally spilt a mug of coffee all over a notebook the other day. And he distinctly remembers setting a few sketchbooks on fire back in middle school.

From: Ev To: Connor Back ! ANd I didnt evne burn anything

Connor smiles to himself and leans against his bed.

From: Connor To: Ev congrats you now have the cooking skills of a 12 year old

From: Ev To: Connor :((

Connor hesitates before typing out his next message. He really shouldn’t ask — it’s a fucking terrible idea on so many levels — but it’s been slowly eating away at him. Which doesn’t make sense. But whatever.

From: Connor To: Ev doesnt matter though i mean youre having dinner tonight wth jared right??

He puts his phone on his desk and goes back to painting and tries not to think about it for a few minutes. It’s not fair of him to get jealous. Because Jared is trying to get better. He’s still a dick but there’s an attempt there.

Connor hasn’t changed anything.

He sits on the floor and works on the painting. Now that he has slightly less shitty watercolors, they’re still pretty garbage but they aren’t old and mostly gone, he uses way too much purple again.

Whatever.

He doesn’t check his phone again until he has to wait for more paint to dry. He’s tempted to grab a sketchbook and keep ignoring it, but that’s not fair to Evan.

From: Ev To: Connor Oh y eah We used to ha ve dinner a lot togethe r when ew wer elittle All oru moms were friends Kinda weird that were doing it again but… NIce?? Hopefull y ? My mom s ocming which is nice She hasnt been home ofr a few nights so yeah

Connor takes a slow breath before replying.

From: Connor To: Ev thats pretty cool i hope its fun and the food doesnt suck

Evan replies almost immediately, even though Connor took almost twenty minutes to respond.

From: Ev To: Connor Thnk you!!! Jareds moms are really good cook sso itll be good I think I hope dinner goes ok for you tonight !! Good luck :)

Connor stares at the smiley face and falls on his bed with a groan.

—«·»—

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Evan lately,” Larry says, pushing quino around his plate.

Connor resists the urge to roll his eyes. They never really talked about that. Sometimes, when Zoe goes over a friend’s house or has a friend over, Connor will give Larry a very pointed look and Larry will find something on his phone fascinating. An amazing double standard.

And, like? Of course he spends time with Evan. They’re best friends— pretending to be best friends. Connor doesn’t know how to get that through Larry’s thick skull.

Evan is Connor’s best friend.

“Well yeah,” Connor says, stabbing a piece of kale with his fork. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Wait, shit—

Zoe chokes on her drink.

“What?!” Larry practically shouts, silverware hitting the table.

Connor opens his mouth to explain that technically, no, they aren’t boyfriends, though they are friends who are boys, even if sometimes Evan looks at him and makes Connor feel like he’s turning to putty. But they aren’t actually—

He glances to his mom with wide eyes. “Mom? Are you okay?”

Cynthia smiles, eyes watering. “I’m just so happy for you, sweetie!”

Connor slowly looks around the table. His mother crying tears of joy, his father staring at him in shock, his sister trying to bite back a smile.

Connor needs to talk to Evan immediately.

They’re fucked.

—«·»—

Connor grabs Zoe’s before she can disappear into her bedroom. She stiffens and he pulls his hand away. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine.” She crosses her arms. “I thought you told me nothing was going on between you and Evan.” She raises her eyebrows.

Connor grimaces. “I— don’t tell Evan.”

Zoe tilts her head. “Don’t tell Evan…you’re dating?”

Fuck. “No, no, fuck.” Connor frantically searches his mind. “I, uh, we weren’t going to…tell people? Yet? And I…fucked that up. So don’t— don’t mention it to him until like he says something or whatever, okay?”

Zoe mimes zipping her lips. “Secret’s safe with me. But also, I fucking knew it.”

Connor forces a laugh and runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah. You did.”

Zoe goes back into her room and Connor grabs his phone and goes down to the basement. He wonders if he can get his door back for Hanukkah, but for now, this is the only private place he’s got. He would lock himself in the bathroom, but that’s still way too close to the rest of his family members for comfort.

He flicks on the light as he heads down the stairs and grabs a blanket off the back of one of the chairs. The basement is about half finished and has been since Connor was in middle school. One of those projects that Larry never got around to finishing. Now they mostly use it for storage and hanging out when it gets too hot in the summer and even central air isn’t working well enough. Him and Zoe used to camp out for weeks in the basement on air mattresses and stay up way past their bedtimes giggling.

Now it’s December. He hasn’t been down here since he punched the far wall when everyone else was asleep. Him and Zoe haven’t spent time together in here in years. They haven’t done much together in years.

Connor wraps himself in a blanket and sits down in one of the old oversized chairs. They’re only down here because the went out of style and were deemed unworthy for the living room.

He unlocks his phone, scrolls through his contacts, and presses call. Then he listens to the phone ring and hopes that they’re done with dinner at the Kleinmans’ while he waits for the call to be answered.

“Hello?”

Connor grits his teeth. “Hi. I…might need help.”

“Is it about Evan?”

Connor frowns. “Why do you assume it’s about Evan?” It is but—

Jared laughs. “Dude, we aren’t friends. The only reason you talk to me is because of Evan. What’s up?”

Connor blinks. He’s just gotten so used to having Jared constantly around that it’s like they’re basically friends. But not. Because Connor doesn’t have any real friends.

“I,” Connor clears his throat, “my family now thinks Evan and I are dating.”

There’s a long pause. Connor waits for Jared to start cackling, but Jared just whispers, “Holy shit.”

“Say whatever shit you want to now,” Connor mutters. “Get it out.”

“Holy shit,” Jared repeats. Connor rolls his eyes. “Murphy, what the fuck.”

“Yeah, I know, I fucked up.”

“What are you going to do?” Jared sounds almost amazed.

Connor frowns at the phone. This is not how he thought this conversation would go. “Pay Evan two hundred dollars? I know you meant that as a joke but—”

“Fucking shit, my dude. What the hell!”

Connor drags his hand through his hair. “Kleinman, my mom started crying when I said Evan was my boyfriend, okay? I can’t— fuck. I don’t know.”

Jared whistles.

Connor picks at his nailpolish. “Would Evan…go along with it? Do you think?”

“I think that’s a question for Evan.”

“I’m asking you.”

Jared snorts. “Okay, fine. I think he’ll go along with it.” It almost feels like Jared is going to say something more, but he doesn’t. “You got two hundred bucks lying around?”

“No,” Connor admits. He has an idea. It’s a terrible idea that could backfire, but it’s an idea.

“So…how are you going to get it?” Jared gasps. “Oh shit! Are we going to rob a bank?”

Connor frowns. “No? Why is that the first thing you came up with? Why would you rob a bank for two hundred dollars? Wouldn’t fucking…normal robbery be easier?”

“Fuck off. Are we doing that?”

“No.”

“Well we both know you’re not getting a job—”

“Fuck you.”

“—and that would probably take too long. Are we going to sell weed?”

“What? No,” Connor says. “Also how long did you restrain yourself before asking that?”

“Too long for that boring answer and reaction,” Jared admits. “Give me something to work with, stoner kid. We could just steal it. I know you said no, but—”

“Jared what the fuck,” Connor interrupts.

“Dude, you aren’t offering any ideas here, I’m just trying to help out.”

Connor rubs the bridge of his nose. “Fucking— do you know how PayPal works?”

“Yeah sure,” Jared says. “Super easy, why?”

Connor sighs. “Would you be willing to help me set one up?”

“Ten bucks.”

“Fine.”

“Yeah sure, you wanted some help on calc anyway. Do you have info on your bank account, by the way?”

“I…can find it,” Connor says slowly. “Does tomorrow work? My house?”

“Yeah sure, my man. Shoot me an address and a time. I expect snacks.”

Jared shows up on the doorstep ten minutes earlier than Connor expected with his backpack slung over one shoulder and a Starbucks drink in his left hand. “Sup.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “You’re early.”

“Fashionably.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Whatever.”

Zoe leans out of the dining room. “Who’s here?”

Connor steps aside to let Jared in. Jared waves at Zoe.

Zoe squints. “What are you doing here?”

“So nice to see you again too, Smaller Murphy,” Jared says. He kicks his shoes off and puts them next to Zoe’s converse.

“Calc,” Connor says. “I’m…not doing great.”

“But you aren’t failing yet,” Jared says. “So we’re just going to keep you from not doing that. What are you learning again?”

Connor shrugs. “Something implicit. I’ll show you the homework.”

Jared nods. “Chill, chill.”

“Aren’t you friends with Alana?” Zoe asks.

“I…guess?” Connor frowns. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“She’s the valedictorian, isn’t she? Why didn’t you ask her for help?”

“Uh…” Connor looks to Jared.

Jared takes a sip of his drink. “I’m genuinely offended, by the way. I’m no Alana Beck but I am passing AP Calc BC, which is more than you can say for seventy percent of our class. Don’t take it.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Zoe assures him. “Just didn’t tutoring was your…thing.”

“Alana tutors,” Jared says.

“I know, that’s my point.”

“Ha ha very funny. She tutors a lot of people so it makes sense that I take someone off her workload.” Jared points to Connor. “As her friend, Connor understands.”

“Right.” Connor nods. “That.”

Zoe rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t judging you or anything I was just wondering. Have fun. Don’t set the house on fire, I’m going over Pippa’s to work on our history project, and Mom and Dad are out shopping or something.”

“I’ll keep Jared away from anything breakable,” Connor promises.

“I remind you I’m doing you a favor,” Jared says.

“You’re making me pay you.”

“Shit you’re right.”

—«·»—

“This is easy shit,” Jared says, looking up from Connor’s textbooks. “Really easy.”

Connor flips him off.

“I’ll explain it!” Jared promises. “This makes my job easier, probably. So back to real reason I’m here—”

“You are here to help me with math.” Connor reaches for his laptop. “I’m going to open commissions.”

Jared stares at him with a blank expression.

“Commissions,” Connor repeats slowly.

Jared blinks. “Since when do you draw?”

“Do you actually know anything about me?” Connor asks.

Jared looks away. “Valid. How can I help?”

“Mostly just need help with PayPal. And maybe wording the post? I don’t know shit about talking to people.” Connor opens his laptop and logs in. He closes a few tabs and opens up tumblr. He hesitates and then opens his blog. “Here.”

“Your theme is awful,” Jared says flatly.

“Did I ask you?”

“Didn’t have to.” Jared clicks a few times. “Dude, if you want to be selling your art, you need a theme that isn’t painful to look at.” Connor opens his mouth to protest, but Jared holds up a hand. “I’m doing you a favor here. Give me like ten minutes. I will change your world.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

Jared pushes away in the desk chair. “Too late, I’m not helping if we don’t change this ugly ass theme. Doodle or something while I do this. Make a commissions banner, I don’t fucking know.” Jared hunches over the laptop and starts typing.

Connor stares at him. Hopefully Jared isn’t going to charge him for this too.

Forty minutes later, Connor is putting aside a random drawing and Jared is looking up from the laptop.

“Bam, motherfucker,” Jared announces spinning the laptop around. “A picture heavy theme with easy navigation, readable text, and colors that don’t make me want to stab my eyes out.” Connor leans forward to see it. It actually looks pretty decent. And pretty professional. Jared has also added a few links, including one to Connor’s still nonexistent PayPal and a commissions page. “By the way, your art is pretty rad.”

Connor blinks. “Thanks. Did you want that bank account information?”

“Yeah sure.”

Connor gets up from the floor. “Let’s break into my dad’s office.”

Jared sets aside the laptop. “Sweet.”

—«·»—

Connor sits down in the chair in Larry’s office. He pulls open one of the lower drawers in the desk and flips through the the hanging folders until he finds one with his name.

“Don’t steal my identity or anything,” he says to Jared as he hands him one of the folders. “But see if anything in there is what you need.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jared starts flipping through the papers. “Your identity is too lame to steal.”

“Thanks.”

Connor skims over various forms and papers with his name all over them. So weird that he’s attached to all of these things but doesn’t understand any of them. That might be concerning. Is he supposed to know what these mean? He squints at something that looks like it has something to do with money.

“I can’t believe you’re going through with this,” Jared mutters.

Connor looks up. “With?”

“This fake dating shit.” Jared puts a stack of papers down on the desk. “I thought this was convoluted before.”

“You helped.”

“So you two keep reminding me.” Jared flips a piece of paper over. “I think this is it.”

“Cool.” Connor puts his folder away and Jared puts Connor’s laptop on the desk. Connor fills out what he can and Jared helps with the rest.

“And you have a PayPal,” Jared announces, finishing the form. “If you click this you can transfer money to your bank account, which is how you’ll get the money off the internet and into Evan’s hands.”

Connor nods. “Makes sense.” He grabs the papers and puts them back into the folder. He puts it back in the bottom drawer and makes sure everything is just how Larry left it before he gets up from the chair.

“I genuinely didn’t think either of you would get invested in this shit,” Jared says as they stop in the kitchen to grab a bag of chips.

Connor shrugged. “I fucked up, that doesn’t mean anything.”

Jared gives him a flat look before biting into a chip. “Let’s just finish this shit so I can teach you how implicit differentiation works.”

Connor wrinkles his nose. “Fine.”

They bring the bag of chips up to Connor’s bedroom and sit on the floor with Connor’s laptop in front of them. Between handfuls of chips, Jared sentences to the post.

“We can’t call it ‘I’m Gay Give Me Money’,” Connor protests.

“Why not?” Jared asks. “It’s tumblr.”

“What’s your point?”

Jared pulls the laptop closer and starts typing. “We just say like… ‘I’m trying to meet my boyfriend’, we stay vague on the details no one wants to know the complexity of this shit and also it’s weird as fuck, ‘so I’m opening commissions’. Blah blah blah here are details…” Jared looks up at Connor. “Any suggestions for prices?”

Connor shrugs.

“You are the least helpful person,” Jared mutters. “Okay…going on what I saw on your blog…” He types rapidly for a few minutes. “And posted.”

“What?!” Connor grabs the laptop from Jared. “Why did you do that?!”

“You weren’t going to have anything to say so fuck it, it’s posted.” Jared pops another chip in his mouth. “Chill the fuck out.”

Connor reloads the page to check the post. He doesn’t have any idea if the prices are reasonable, but Jared put up Connor’s email and a link to his PayPal and tagged the post with a few tags that make sense and a few that don’t.

Connor groans. “If you fucked this up for me—”

“I didn’t,” Jared says. “I am doing you so many solids right now. And now I’m about to try to teach you calculus. I am literally a god.”

Connor resists the urge to slam his head against the keyboard.

#connor murphy #evan hansen #convan #tree bros #deh fanfic #my fics #to have a friend #hi im dy ign

78 notes · View notes

kayetaz · 7 years

Text

You Be the Anchor that Keeps My Feet on the Ground (Ch. 3) | Newt x Reader

Summary: The reader is dealing with the aftermath of the new rule on top of her obligation to go and watch her attacker’s banishment. Her and Newt continue to grow closer and closer.

Warnings: Banishment/sexual assault mention Word count: 3,234

A/N: This chapter is more fluffy and I was smiling like a schoolgirl writing most of the parts. Again, I’m aiming for only about 2-3 more chapters unless I get some requests that might make it longer. My ask is always open for this and future imagines!

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2

After the meeting, I head directly to the gardens to start my new job. Zart smiles timidly at me and asks me to start weeding around the crops, as long as I don’t mind. I roll my eyes and sigh as I get to work. I knew the new rule was going to make things a little bit weirder, but I really did not expect it to start happening that quickly. It’s almost as if anyone who talks to me is afraid to have a target on their back now.

“Hey, love,” Newt announces as he comes up behind me in the gardens.

I’m startled a little by his sudden and quiet arrival, but I recover quickly before turning and looking up to meet his eyes, hoping he didn’t notice. I have to let what happened with Ivan go, before I become nothing but a scared shell that everyone feels they need to tip-toe around. I fought so hard for so long to be treated like all of the other guys, and I’ll be damned if I let him take that away from me.

“Hi, Newt,” I answer, smiling.

He’s still managing to get around very well on just one crutch, and he seems to only use it as an afterthought. I admire his strength, and it makes me want to be strong too.

He kneels down on the ground next to me and starts pulling at weeds too. “Mind if I help?”

I groan. “Listen, Newt, I really appreciate your help yesterday. I know I was an absolute wreck, and I still am pretty shaken up, but Alby has already relocated my job and my living arrangements, as well as given me around-the-clock supervision… If you guys keep treating me like I’m weak, that’s how I’m going to look to the other Gladers and what happened yesterday will happen again.”

“You’re absolutely right, (Y/N),” Newt agrees, “But I’m not here to babysit you, or because I think you can’t handle pulling out some weeds on your own. I’m here because my new job is working in the gardens too.”

“Really?” I ask, both excited that I get to spend every day with him again, but suspicious of why he was placed in the same job as me, on the same day.

“Yes. And it’s not because of you, it’s actually because I was a Track-hoe before Minho picked me to be a Runner. Obviously, due to recent events, I can no longer run the maze.”

My heart drops a little. “How are you doing, by the way?”

He smiles at me and returns to work. “Much better, (Y/N). Much better.”

“Good,” I answer him happily as I return to my own area of weeds.

–

As Newt and I sit down at lunch, I can tell that a lot of the Gladers are feeling the same way Zart did towards me. They avoid any eye contact, and Gally even let me cut in front of him to get food, no matter how many times I told him it was okay. My appetite is suddenly gone and I just pull Newt’s hoodie around myself tighter, feeling dozens of eyes on me.

Of course, the blonde-haired boy notices this and asks what’s wrong.

“Why aren’t you afraid to be near me?” I ask instead of answering his question.

He just furrows his eyebrows and stares at me, lost for words.

I gesture to the boys sitting around us, but he only continues to look at me in confusion.

“They’re all acting like I have the black plague.”

Slight recognition graces his face but he still seems un-phased by the situation. “I think they’re just trying to give you space, given what Shuckface did to you.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s because of that stupid new rule. They’re probably all scared if they make me mad I’ll tell Alby and have them banished or something.”

“(Y/N), that rule is for your protection. It’s not stupid,” he says, looking hurt by my comment.

“Well, I think it’s stupid. And who is Alby to decide if I can or can’t have any kind of romantic relationship with anyone?”

Newt’s eyebrows raise at me and a cheeky grin appears on his face. “Someone you have in mind there, (Y/N)?”

“Oh, bugger off,” I say, my cheeks heating up. “What happened last night scared the klunk out of me, but I still need to be able to live my life here. It’s going to be hard to do that if you’re the only person who will talk to me.”

“Would that be so terrible?” he jokes.

I laugh in response, but on the inside, I know that if Newt were the only person I talked to for the rest of my life, I’d be a little more than okay with it.

My mind suddenly goes back to the other important topic of the Gathering this morning. “Ivan’s banishment is in a few hours.”

Newt sighs. “You don’t have to go if you don’t feel up to it.”

I just shrug, staring down at my uneaten food. “A person is going to die because of me.”

“(Y/N),” Newt says but I just twirl my food around with my fork, until he says my name more sternly and grabs my hand, which I initially want to pull out of his grasp but I remind myself that it’s Newt and he won’t hurt me. “He’s going to die because he’s a bloody Slinthead. And trust me when I say this: if I hadn’t gotten there in time, I would have killed him myself.”

Tears burn my eyes but I blink them back as I smile at the sweet boy in front of me. I look longingly into his chocolate orbs and think of everything we had been through in just a short amount of time, and how much he’s come to mean to me as well.

“What are you thinking about, love?” Newt asks quietly.

“How a life without you in it would be so pointless.”

His cheeks redden slightly as he smiles and looks down at the table. “That was me before you came and put me back together.”

“Not very well, though. Your poor ankle…” I joke at my lousy job at tying the splint tight enough that will result in him having a slight limp.

His eyes find mine again and all humor is gone. “A reminder of why I need you in my life.”

We stare at each other for who knows how long, until I realize most of the Gladers are gone and we have to get back to work.

Newt notices this too and we just smile at each other, an unspoken agreement to pick this conversation up at a different time, as we get ready to head back to the gardens.

–

Newt must sense my anxiety as it gets closer and closer to sunset because he spends the next few hours trying to get my mind off of it by asking hundreds of questions.

“I guess I would say (Y/F/C),” I answer when he asks my favorite color. “Yours?”

He gives another cheeky smile as he looks into my eyes. “Recently I’ve been really digging (Y/E/C).”

I roll his favorite color at him and try to think of my own question. “Do you think you ever owned a pet?”

“I have this odd sense that I once had a dog. I can imagine taking it to the park and throwing a ball around. You?”

I grab my tiny sketch book from my pants pocket and open to a random page, showing him the contents. It’s a black and white cat, which I draw on almost every page. At first, I thought I was just drawing it because I was bored, but the markings always stay the same and the name ‘Cookie’ always comes to mind while I’m drawing it.

He takes the book from me and flips through a few more pages. “Wow, (Y/N), these are great. You’re really talented.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, grabbing the book back and stuffing it into my pocket, relieved that I resisted the urge to draw a certain second-in-command on more than one occasion.

“Seriously. You should do a cartoon page in the Glader Gazette,” he says and winks at me and I laugh despite it being a rather sad memory.

“I really do think we should get that going. We can just ask W.I.C.K.E.D. to send us up a type-writer. It would seriously boost morale around here.”

He chuckles. “I think we should worry about basic necessities like soap and medicine, but yeah, a typewriter could be a close third.”

I pretend to sniff myself and make a disgusted face. “What? You don’t like the smell of a hard worker?”

He playfully scrunches his nose up and I run after him trying to rub my dirty shirt in his face as he tries to push me away.

We end up falling over because he doesn’t have his crutch and I’m a huge klutz, and we lie on the ground laughing so hard it hurts.

“You do seriously stink though,” he teases.

“Well I only went one night without showering. You forget, Newt, that you went weeks while you were in the Med-jacks.”

He laughs again. “My hair looked really good though, didn’t it?”

“It did,” I agree, giggling. “It did look really good.”

We lie on the ground another moment or so when Alby calls for the Keepers to gather for the banishment, and my happy mood is ruined again.

I feel Newt look over at me while I continue to stare at the sky, the fake sun lowering quickly.

“You don’t have to do this, (Y/N).”

I nod my head as I consider it again. It would be so easy to just head to the showers and wash up while the banishment goes on and then join everyone at Fry’s after. But then I remember that I want to be strong, like Newt, so I start getting up and turn to help my injured friend do the same. I grab his crutch that’s leaning against the tomato cage and hand it to him.

“Let’s get this over with,” I say gravely and he nods his head in return as we make our way to the north maze doors.

There are six long poles with sticks tied horizontally at the end for the two leaders: Alby and Newt, and for four of the Keepers: Zart, Winston, Frypan and Gally. Newt is the last to get there, and hands me his crutch so he can grab his pole.

Twelve other Gladers have spears and stand on the sides of the maze doors while the leaders and Keepers stand in front, waiting for Ivan.

Almost all of the Gladers gather around; a lot of them giving me sympathetic smiles and some even come over and tell me they’re sorry or that I am so brave for being there. It really makes me feel like I can get through this okay.

Eventually Ivan comes into view, his hands tied behind his back while Minho has a hold of his shirt and pulls him into the center of the poles and spears. His nose is obviously broken as it is almost completely turned to the right side and dark, dried blood is all over his face, neck and shirt, including the blood Newt said poured from his ears. He also has a black eye and several gashes around his left cheek.

“Ivan,” Alby speaks, “for your crime of breaking the second rule of not harming another Glader, you are sentenced to banishment. Do you have any final words?”

His eyes travel around all the Gladers gathered, until finally landing on me. The eye contact between us makes me nauseous but I hold my ground and remind myself to be strong.

“You were worth it, sweet cheeks,” he says to me with a disgusting smirk on his face but I only stare back at him, my eyes squinting in anger.

“Do you want me to use your face to break my other bloody crutch?” Newt yells, starting to run forward but Alby grabs his arm, pulling him back and giving him a knowing look that says to behave.

“Don’t worry, Newt. I was only borrowing her for a few minutes. She can be your slut again.”

Newt looks at Alby, a crazed expression on his face that says he wants very badly to do something stupid, but then the booming that warns the closing of the doors sounds throughout the Glade and Alby is yelling at everyone to move forward.

Newt is on him with his pole first, nearly knocking him to the ground with how hard he pushes. Ivan’s face finally shows fear of his upcoming fate as his eyes silently plead to everyone around, but no one seems the least bit compassionate as they continue to guide him into the maze as the doors come nearer to their close.

Once he’s right outside the walls, Newt’s pole gives him his last good push so that he has to fully enter the maze so as to not be crushed by the doors. When the doors are fully shut and Ivan’s shouts can no longer be heard, everyone looks around at each other.

The only other banishment the Gladers ever held was George’s, after he had gotten stung by a Griever and was going through the Changing. He became a danger to the population so we had no choice but to send him into the maze. Afterwards, there were a lot of grave expressions and guilty consciences as we all wondered what more we could have done.

Now, however, everyone just looks relieved that it’s over.

Newt leans his pole against the wall and hobbles over towards me, and I meet him halfway to give him his crutch back, but he pushes it away like it’s the last thing on his mind and pulls me into a hug, settling his face in my hair. This time, I don’t even flinch from the contact. It’s like the doors closing on Ivan officially cut off the fear of intimacy again.

“Are you okay, love?” he askes.

“Honestly? I am.”

He pulls away and looks into my eyes, searching for a sign that I am just trying to act stronger than I feel, but I’m not lying. I don’t blame the maze, or even the Creators, for what happened. People like Ivan exist all over the world, trying to make others feel like they’re objects and not human beings. I was just as likely to be in the same situation outside of the Glade. But I realize, because of Ivan, and even more so because of Newt, how strong I really am and how important my life is.

He smiles and finally grabs his crutch from me. “Dinner?”

“I’ll meet you there. Someone told me earlier that I smelled so I should really hit the showers,” I retort.

“Oh, good. That means the flies won’t be joining us as well,” he jokes and I hit his arm playfully before I walk in the direction of the bath house.

‘He’s going to be the death of me,’ I think casually, before it hits me that he might actually be the death of me because of the new rule.

I shrug and decide I really don’t care.

–

After dinner, Newt and I find ourselves nonchalantly strolling over into the Deadheads, talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

“What job do you think you’d have if you didn’t live here?” he asks me.

I smile, as this is a question I’ve answered in my head before. “I think I’d be a teacher. I can’t remember any specific children in my life, but I feel like I would love to work around them. I just think their carelessness and innocence would be so refreshing.”

“I can see that,” Newt responds, smiling at me. “Yeah, you’re so great with everyone, like, such a people person… I can see you being an amazing teacher, (Y/N).”

My heart just soars some more, as it seems to do every time we talk. “Thanks, Newt. How about you?”

“A firefighter. I always liked the idea of saving people. I guess it’s why I was so miserable here for such a long time. I felt like I was no good to anyone.”

“I totally disagree with that,” I tell him, stopping us in our tracks so I can look into his eyes. “You ran into that maze for a year and a half, every day without fail, risking your life for everyone in the Glade. You’re a hero in my books.”

He seems to consider this for awhile, biting on the inside of his cheek as his gaze goes between me and the grass until he eventually smiles brightly at me. “Thanks, love. That means a lot.”

We look into each other’s eyes for a few minutes, just smiling at one another in comfortable silence until some sort of confidence finds its way into me and I find myself asking, “Do you think you’d have a girlfriend? Outside the Glade?”

His cheeks go pink. “I would hope so.”

I raise my eyebrow at him, as a small gust of wind comes by and I shiver, pulling his jacket tighter around me. He notices, and runs his hands up and down my arms which causes me to blush hard.

His voice comes out as a whisper, “I think she would have (Y/H/L) (Y/H/C) hair and (Y/E/C) eyes, and would be the sweetest yet strongest person I know. She would be beautiful even when she’s dirty and smelly and would make the world seem like rainbows and sunshine even on the grayest of days.”

I smile so hard my face hurts and I feel happy tears prick my eyes. “Well I think I would have a boyfriend.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, grinning.

“He’d have blue eyes and red hair and wouldn’t make fun of me for smelling bad.”

Newt chuckles and pulls me into a hug, still warming up my arms.

I whisper in his ear, much more seriously, “No, I’m kidding. He would actually have shaggy blonde hair and chocolate-colored eyes and the cutest accent. He would be the most caring and loving person, who deserves more love and care than anyone else on the planet. And I would literally risk my life to feel what it’s like to be with him.”

His arms still from their warming motions halfway through my talking and by the time I’m done, he’s pulled back and staring into my eyes as if he can see my soul. His eyes briefly glance to my lips and I only nod slightly before he leans down and kisses me so softly it almost feels like it didn’t happen. We pull back, staring at each other a moment before I grab hold of his shirt and pull him down more forcefully. He smiles at my eagerness into the kiss, but I can’t help myself as my hands go straight into his hair and his find their way to my waist.

We pull back after a minute and lean our foreheads together, so immersed in each other that we don’t see a certain Glader watching us from behind a tree.

To be continued.

#newt #newt imagine #the maze runner #the maze runner imagine #thomas brodie sangster #thomas sangster #alby imagine #gally imagine #clint imagine #jeff imagine #newt x reader #you be the anchor that keeps my feet on the ground #you be the anchor that keeps my feet on the ground imagine #mayday parade #mayday parade lyrics

80 notes · View notes

so-flashtastic · 7 years

Text

His Cinderella

Summary: On the run from a crazy ex, Y/N runs up and kisses this random yet handsome guy. Oblivious to the fact that she's capturing her greatest hero, The Flash's mind, she goes on with her life. Though what happens on their next meet? Will Prince charming finally find his Cinderella?

Category: Falling in love 030: "Can I kiss you?"

Pairing: Barry Allen x doctor!reader Words: 3155 Warning: none that I'm aware of... I used the word hell?

A/N: So just found out I’m gonna do my English exam next Friday. For both practice and pleasing you lovelies, I thought I’d try to write even more this upcoming week – though I’m not sure how this brilliant win/win idea will work out IRL, so don’t hold your breaths...:/

ϟϟϟϟϟ

“Can I kiss you?!” A girl popped up in front of Barry. She was out of breath, her forehead shining from the sweat after a what-seemed-like-a long run. Just when Barry was about to answer, her lips met his. If it hadn't been for the fact that she had taken him by surprise, he would have noticed so much more about her. Like the way her eyes sparkled when their gazes met, the way her hair seemed to perfectly frame her head, the way her chapped lips glowed in the daylight.

But she did take him by surprise, and all he could think of, were how those chapped, yet soft lips felt against his. It wasn't an ordinary setting for Barry (to have random girls coming up kissing him). Though for some reason, it felt natural. So he closed his eyes and started kissing back – a very un-Barry and bold move, that he instantly regretted when the warm feeling disappeared not long after.

"Thanks! You're a real hero!" It was just by pure luck, that Barry managed to get a slightly better look at her before she ran. The last thing he saw being a pair of red cheeks and Y/E/C eyes. It certainly was a way to brighten up his day – who wouldn't have liked to get kissed by a girl? Though at the same time, Barry still felt something fishy about what had just happened, and he was dying to know why the sudden urge for the beautiful girl to kiss him: it wasn't like that happened on a daily basis in Central City.

"Wow, what happened to you?" Iris's question shook Barry out of his thoughts. He smiled at her, and said: "What do you mean?" "Well, by the grin on your face, I'd guess you just met your soulmate," he hadn't even noticed. However, merely seconds later, Barry could sense an ache in his cheeks. "Who knows? Maybe I just did?" His clever smirk made wheels inside his best friend's head turning. 'What the hell did he mean by that?'

It had been weeks since the mystery girl had kissed Barry. Thoughts like: 'Who is she?', 'Is she alright?', 'Where is she now? Does she remember me?', 'Will she be here today? Am I unconsciously walking right next to her right now?', and 'Is that her?', had been roaming through Barry's mind, and was currently distracting him. "Ooh!" Oliver's punch hit him hard, though Barry knew he kind of deserved it – needed it as well.

"Come on, Barry! You need to be focused! That's the reason you're here in the first place!" Green Arrow was right. Through the last couple of weeks, The Flash's problem of getting distracted had gotten big spots in the papers. He simply could not help it though, it was that girl. Whatever he would do to get her out of his head, it just wouldn't do. As if Cisco had read his mind, the latino spoke up: "Barr, you need to get Cinderella out of your head!" Of course, Barry had told Cisco, but at the confused look on the whole team Arrows' faces, it seemed like the speedster had to tell the rest how he had met his mystery girl.

"I really can't forget about her," Barry finished with an almost dramatic sigh. Furthermore, Cisco and Caitlin explained the poor consequences of Barry's "lovesick" state (to which Barry strongly disagreed, and corrected them with that he was "just curious, it was so random!" He had said). "What if she's the one needing saving next time, Barry? What are you going to do then?! Because what you're doing now? That can't continue because your city is depending on you!"

Oliver's short lecture made Barry snap for some reason. Didn't he think Barry already knew that? That the fact that this girl was affecting his efficiency and job? And that it drove Barry insane, not knowing what to do when he saw people barely surviving because he wasn't there 100 percent? So he said just that to the green man, telling him exactly what he meant. "Barry, you need to understand that this isn't high school, you have got to keep trying getting her out of your head. This isn't Football scouts you're trying to impress to get into a good college; This is real lives you're saving, and that girl is not helping you with that,"

"I swear it was just like in a movie," Y/N's best friend, Sophie, exclaimed to their other best friend. "Soph, you weren't even there, and I had to do something to get away from Mike!" A part of Y/N was getting tired of her friend's obsession with what she had done weeks ago. It was a bold move. Maybe the boldest one she had made ever: She had run up to a complete stranger – a handsome guy if that made any difference, and kissed him.

"It was just like self-defence," Y/N continued, wrapping her stuff up before the librarian could come and shush them once again. "I get that Mike was a bit crazy, but I can't believe you went so far!" "Soph, he bought her a cat and raged when she said she was allergic," Bobby defended Y/N, reminding her why she liked him more than the girl sitting opposite of them.

"OK, so he was insane, but I just can't get away from the fact that Y/N Y/L/N simply ran up to a guy and just kissed him! He was handsome as well!" It was kind of interesting though, Y/N had to agree. Her plain old self-had gotten a little touch of excitement, and she couldn't deny that she liked what had happened. "Aren't I handsome enough for ya?" Now was her time to leave. Leave before the two started their usual flirt-off.

"Of course, but this guy? He was the perfect guy for Y/N," Sophie continued, and Yn wasn't quite sure anymore if she wanted to hear the rest of this. Though she also knew that if she spent more time at this table, Mrs. Grey was going to associate her with the girl that had gotten banned from all the other libraries in the city – AKA Y/n would have to go to Starling.

"OK, I'm gonna go now before this develops, I have to get going if I want to get to the bank before they close anyway," it was kind of true. All of them knew she didn't exactly have to go but they went along with it even so. "But we'll see you later, right?" Sophie asked, changing the subject to something more serious. "Sorry, promised the other I would do some research with the others," Y/N made an apologetic grimace as she turned down their monthly game night. "I swear, your Flash-obsession will drive our friendship apart!" Bobby exclaimed before Y/N left the building.

The clear blue sky was getting covered up with gray clouds, making Y/N sigh. Of course, it would be raining the one day she didn't bring an umbrella. 'Better walk fast then,' she thought, pacing over to the bank. How did she always had to be so unlucky? Wasn't it enough that she had a cursed love life? Did she have to be both wet and miserable? Y/N could now see the big building, and without a further thought, she ran inside.

Y/N had just managed to take a deep breath before she heard it. The silence. That type of silence which made the hairs on your body raise. She looked around and took in the scene of what was going on. All the people were crouching on the ground, protecting themselves from the man dressed in black. The man with a big bag and a gun, which was currently pointing at another man dressed in a crimson suit. 'The Flash,' Y/N was star struck, but not for long. The second everyone could hear Y/N, all of the eyes were set on her – Flash included. It took Y/N mere seconds to understand what was happening. And just before the robber did it, she screamed. "No!!" But it was already too late, the bullet had hit her hero.

When Barry opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the unfamiliar roof above him. In any other case, the roof wouldn't be the first thing he'd notice at strange places, though when laying down, it wasn't many other places than upwards to see. Laying on an equally new, yet comfortable couch, everything came back to him: How he had sped off to the bank because of a robbery, how he had been taken by surprise by a girl, and then gotten shot. 'Wait, a girl?' Barry did his best trying to remember how she looked. Could it have been her?

"Ralph, I'm sorry, but something came up!" A female voice shook him out of his thoughts. "No, I'm not quitting on you guys, it's just that this is a bit more important than Flashsearching... That's not disrespectful! I dig being with you guys, seriously... Yes... OK, hood, I'll see you guys tomorrow... Yeah... Yeah, ok, ok bye, bye," it was as if she'd heard that voice before, though his ponder immediately stopped when the word “Flashsearching” appeared. Barry was starting to sweat: had he gotten himself into a crazy gal’s home? Realization hit him hard, and he went to touch his face in a haste. A relieving sigh left his lips when he felt the familiar leather mask. So his identity was still a secret (which was good because Barry was slightly afraid of what Ralph would have done if he had gotten it).

Sitting up on the couch, Barry started observing the hostess's apartment. It was surprisingly messy: Books were stabled up as small tables, papers were occupying all of the tables as well as other opened books; plants in every size possibly as well as a huge map covering an entire wall. 'Wow... Some girl...' And then she appeared by the doorframe in front of him.

"Are you joking? Well, you've clearly not attended med school..." The girl walked over to him, and Barry winced while sitting straighter up, displeasing the Y/H/C girl. "You need to lay down, metahuman or not, you got shot today," her hands went to Barry's shoulders as she guided him back down to his former position. He couldn't help but get mesmerized by the beauty in front of him. Her kind eyes that sparkled in the yellow light, her perfectly imperfect lips, and the constant glow of her skin. She wasn't the picture perfect beautiful girl. She was breathtaking.

"Well, you're probably confused- of course you're confused, you passed out and now you're in a stranger's apartment with a rambler that just can't shut up and get to the point. That's what my friends and family describe me as at least, but I'm not so sure on the using-to-much-time-before-getting-to-the-point part. I think I'm rather good with backstory. You know how hard it is to get something when not having the backstory – which is something I also do sometimes, but that's not important. Wait, what were we talking about again?" Barry smiled at her nervous laugh. She was quite adorable with her brows furrowed.

"Oh I'm sorry, my name's Y/N Y/L/N! My brain sort of stops functionating at times when meeting superheroes... Anyway, the bank is not far away from here, so I managed to get you here after the shooting – that's four hours ago by the way. After that I managed to find out how to get that bullet out of you," Y/N's deep Y/E/C eyes drifted to the table where one bloody book was laying open, parts of a bullet next to it as well as a tweezer. Barry looked down at his now hurting torso, seeing the reason to why he was a bit cold: she had ripped his suit open (Barry could almost hear Cisco's upcoming frustration), and wrapped around him was a bloody bandage.

Y/n saw Barry's eyes fixing on her masterwork, 'Oh shit I ruined his suit...' She must have said it out loud, based on The Flash's laugh, which made her cheeks tint. "It's alright, don't sweat it, I've done the same with a poorer excuse," it was weird hearing a normal voice coming out of his mouth. "So I don't know you, then," Y/N said before thinking straight. "And what makes you think that?" Flash had this lure smile plastered on his lips, and Y/N barely got to answer him quickly: "Because you're not using your vibrating voice," it was her time to smirk, but her little victory didn't last long because before she knew it, her ringtone went off.

"Sophie?" Now knowing Y/N wasn't crazy, Barry restarted his pondering on where he had heard her voice before. "He called you? But Ralph seemed ok when I hung up on... No, Soph, I'm not secretly dating any prince... No, I'm not on a date with a regular guy either... Well, because something came up!..." Barry couldn't hear what this 'Sophie' was saying to Y/N, but when the girl's eyes met his, he understood she was finding it difficult answering the drill of questions that was getting thrown at her. "OK, can't we just reschedule?... I'm sure you and Bobby will figure something out, you're pretty much boyfriend and girlfriend... can I hung up on you now?" At her last sentence, it was as if Barry had gotten an adrenaline-shot: It was her! The girl!

Y/N said her goodbyes to her friend and turned to look at the shocked guy on her couch. "That was just Sophie, asking where I was since I wasn't with Ralph whom still is mad about me not Flashsearching with him and the rest - Oh God no, that came out wrong. It's just this nerdy word the other guys came up with for researching about you... You know what? I'm just going to stop now before I make myself look like a stalker to you – which I'm not, by the way, just fascinated," Y/N's ramble normally got its time to shine during three occasions: when she was nervous, when it was too silent, and when she didn't know what to do. At the moment, all those things seemed to happen.

"And by fascinated, I mean just you and your powers in general. As well as why you're the only good one out there yet and everything- Wow we need to change that bandage of yours, I'll go get the essentials," and then the girl fled the room. Barry now got time to think. He had met her. This was what he had been wishing for so long, but what now? This part was something he hadn't given much thought – scratch that, he hadn't given it any thoughts. And it wasn't like she recognized him. Hell, Barry didn't even know if she felt the same way about him!

"Found it! Now, I left the gloves here, let's see..." Y/N was back, a roll of bandages in her left hand, the other occupied by searching through the overwhelmed dining table. "OK, let's do this, now you being awake will be a bit easier, so if you could just... Ah yes, now look at you! It almost seems like you've done this before!" Her enthusiasm made Barry's grin reappear for what felt like being the fifth time. "Oh, and I know what I'm doing, by the way, I'm a med student. Pretty phony to say, but I know I'd be terrified if a stranger had played operation on me..." She looked up for the first time and er eyes locked with Barry's.

"And by the way, just to emphasize the fact that I'm not a crazy fan, no, I don't have any blood samples from you in the kitchen that I plan to test and leak your true identity with," the two of them smiled at each other, Y/N because she was joking, Barry because he couldn't stop. "No but seriously though, I hope you understand I'm not mad or anything. Looking back at the conversations you've probably overheard, I can see why it's hard not to- it's gone!" Y/N's shock when seeing Barry's wound gone – there were absolutely no traces of it being there in the first place, made him make up his mind.

Barry's hands slowly went up to his face and removed his mask. Now when Y/N went to look at the speedster yet again, the words of enthusiasm got stuck in her throat. "Can I kiss you?" Barry asked, Y/N still startled at The Flash's true identity. "It's you-" she didn't get to cope with what was happening before Barry took a leap of faith when diving in to kiss her. Looked like faith was on his side when he felt Y/N Y/N, the girl, kiss him back seconds later.

ϟϟϟϟϟ

A/N: Sorry if this got a little over the top dramatic at times, just watched Singin' in the rain, so I'm blaming the overdramatic 50s influencing me! AND if requested, I think I can make this a second part;)))

#Barry Allen #barry allen imagine #bare with me #barry allen au #barry allen imagines #The Flash #the flash imagines #the flash imagine #the flash au #grant gustin #grant gustin imagines #grant gustin imagine #grant gustin one shot #grant gustin au

488 notes · View notes

designationpinknoise · 7 years

Text

How Prowl met Janis 1/2

:: | ::= Thoughts

It's was just a normal day in the daily grind Janis got up put on her school uniform brushed her hair and rode her bike to school, when she waited at the lights for the walk signal a cop came speeding down the road almost hitting her! the blonde squeaked as the car managed to swerve and passed slammed on it's brakes.

Janis let out a sigh of relief, before riding up to the cop car and narrowed her eyes at the tinted windows "Learn to drive space cadet!" she hissed giving the headlight a light kick, and continuing on her way. she thought she heard someone apologize, but didn't spare a second glance.

Meanwhile

"Bluestreak!"

"I'm sorry I was wasn't paying attention! and girl just rode out in front me and I saw her at the last.."

"Quiet! do you have any idea what would've happened if you had hit that girl? at the speed you were going?! go back to base!"

"But-...Kay"

Prowl ex-vented why Prime didn't let Jazz or Bumble-bee come on patrol him with he'll never know! at least that know how to pay attention to the damn road and traffic laws...he scooped out the neighborhood to make sure no one had heard or saw the near miss,

but no humans were detected, he ex-vented again before turning down the same way the girl went only for his radar to go haywire! there was a decepticon heading his way fast! dammit! he radioed base and Bluestreak to come back.

At the same time

Janis was at her locker and felt a chill go up her back; she whirled around and saw Marvin looking down at his phone while walking to the student council meeting room only walk face first into the door frame,

The blonde blinked must have been her imagination, she shrugged before a loud explosion knock her back into the row of locker her ears rang as the blurry images flooded her vision then Janis felt something hit her chest then everything went dark.

Prowl grunted as he landed he was thrown into a school building luckily it was mostly empty, as it was early the staff and student weren't there yet, or so police mech thought he saw a boy running away from the building.

Then froze when he looked down and saw a girl buried in rubble! he recognized her too; she was the one Bluestreak almost ran over, he went to comm for help. but his comm wasn't working,

Prowl growled as he looked over to Bluestreak and the lambo twins who were fighting Bonecrusher, then back at the girl then realized something... his scanners weren't picking up her heartbeat, his spark dropped as he dug the girl out and quickly looked up way to start up a heart..."Defibrillation?"

he said before looking down at his spark chamber...This was very either a good or bad idea... that sounded good in theory or on paper,

but right now? There were no options opening his chest plates. Prowl brought the girl to his chest and gave her a slight jolt and that's the last thing he remembered before blacking out...

Three days later...

Janis's eyes opened and was blinded by a bright light, she muffled voices and saw figures moving about, she tried to get up but was pushed down again, she hissed her head and chest were killing her,

"W-what happened? where am I?" she ask her hazel eyes finally adjusting "You in the hospital dear." she looked up at the older woman she was in a lab coat and had long ginger hair and laurel green eyes, who looked down at her warily Janis read the woman's tag Dr. C. Gates as the woman wrote something down.

"Do you remember your name?"

"Janis Pymm, Dr. Gates what happened to me?"

"There was a gas explosion at your school, the paramedics found you under some rubble."

"Gas explosion?..how long was I out for?"

The Doctor hummed "three days...looks like you got an extended spring break." the teen just gave the woman a blank look as she cleared her throat "by the way your friends stopped by..."

Janis looked to her bedside table and saw a large candy basket, flowers and cards. sitting on the table most of them were from classmates; who wished her well or thought it was her birthday...the flowers were from Marvin, but the basket...

who the hell were Jazon Zimri and Paul Rowe? "I think there may be mistake. I don't know any Paul or Jazon." Dr. Gates blinked then checked the tag on the basket "No mistake, it’s addressed to you." she showed Janis the tiny address and note.

[Get well soon sweetness, PS me n' Blu picked this out, Prowler doesn't know what the femmes like

Femmes?...was that some sort of new slang? the teen frowned and who the hell is Blu? "Maybe one of the first respondents got it for you?" Dr. Gates suggested as she wrote down other stuff, Janis shrugged still befuddled as odd tingle tugged in her chest. but, shrugged it off to her body still waking up.

"By the way we tried contacting your family, but no one answered." Janis grimaced and grabbed a small napkin and asked for a pen and wrote down a number

"it's my building manager." the doctor eyed her before nodding "I'm going to prescribe you, some pain killers for a cracked rib and your wrist, you got off lucky miss Pymm, also I'm sorry but you going to have scars over your right brow and left cheek,"

Janis listened to what the doctor said as she left to either attend to her other patients or call the number she gave her, Janis didn't know how long she was laying there for staring at the ceiling...

but, for what seemed like hours there was a knock on her door looked up and saw an old woman calmly walk, in and hug her before helping her sit up the old woman pull away and scanned the girl's face.

"Oh my goodness look at you."

"Hi to you too, miss Jackson..."

"Why didn't you say you were in the hospital? I nearly had a heart attack"

":: |Yeah because whose gonna pay you if i die?| :: I wasn't really awake until an hour ago.."

Don't get Janis wrong. Miss Jackson was nice lady... just so long as you have a big enough wallet to keep her in a good mood; and pay her rent on time. Damn Janis really missed the Kims!

at least they're rate was cheap and they'd give you an extra two weeks to get the money, Janis's scholarships and security job barely covered the grubby woman's rate.

She was looking for a new place to live, but, for now she's stuck "I'm only driving you home this once don't expect anymore generosity." the older woman chided as Janis went to say something only for Doctor Gates to return with Janis's school bag "Your gym clothes are in here, Luckily you bag got out untouched."

the ginger said giving Miss J the stink eye who looked the doctor with distaste, "May I talk with you?" she said to miss Jackson, who followed her out of the room as Janis changed and put her stuff in her back pack well except for the basket it was too big and flowers well were starting had pretty died.

so she threw them out and dumped the water before putting the vase into her backpack just as Doctor Gates came back in a very unhappy "what a bitch! urm...Sorry dear, did you know she was selling the apartment building?" the doctor asked Janis was floored "What?!"

Meanwhile two days earlier...

When Prowl onlined his mind was in disarray, he felt odd. almost lost as he stared at the base's ceiling, as Ratchet stepped in to check on him "Well, look who finally woke up!"

the medic said getting the SIC attention "w-when did I get here?" he asked as Ratchet helped him up. before smacking him up side the helm, he grunted and looked at the doc-bot confused "You, I thought you were one of the smart ones!"

Prowl was still confused as the terror twins suddenly came rushing in. loudly humming the wedding march; and throwing confetti and noise makers at Prowl. confusing the poor bot even more.

before a feeling of wariness and pain in his wrist and chest got his attention...His optics watched as Ratchet chased the twins out of his med-bay.

but, he blocked out whatever he was saying to them. He didn't even register Jazz walking in a patting his shoulder.

The Praxian jumped from the sudden touch "I gotta say Prowler n'vah thought ya for a commitment mech so waz er name?" Prowl blinked then stared at his friend confused as Ratchet butted in.

"he doesn't know."

"What do ya Mean?"

"He doesn't know her name, he took a damn risk! and they're both stuck with ramifications."

"Whoa, you Spark bonded with the li’l lady without knowin' er name or permission?"

Prowl gawked at the two, bonded? what were they talking about he wasn't...Then he remembered the girl! the school getting jumped by the cons, "Oh frag! The girl! she wasn't I-her heart stopped and I-"

The medic put his hand up to silence him "I know, Catherine told me you saved her however..." Ratchet winced "Just be thankful the girl was an E-type, other wise you’d both be dead right now."he huffed as Prowl's door wings stood straight up either in anger or fear;

neither Jazz or Ratchet knew, when Ratchet gave the SIC the okay the leave he was cornered by Bluestreak who bombarded him with questions he couldn't or wouldn't answer! before Jazz came to rescue him and said they were going to visit his "missus".

Much to Prowl's churning, he actually bit back to urge to yell 'she's not my mate!' but, that was lie...as three drove to the hospital.

Bluestreak suggested getting something for her; Jazz agree and they stopped at a shop, Prowl had no fricking clue what he was doing or how he was going to do this. ::What do earth femmes even like?:: he huffed in his head as his holo-form;

(which totally looks like agent smith from the matrix)

Stared intensely at a cactus, while Jazz and and Blue shook their heads at him "Even his avatar looks like it has stick up his aft" sniper whispered to the TIC who just hummed.

as he and Blu looked around, and found a large gift basket and buying it with the credit card the SILO foundation gave them. "let's go Prowler!" Jazz said grabbing Prowl by the elbow and pulled him out of the store.

when they got to the hospital, the nurse up front denied them entry since they didn't know the patient's name first or last. til Catherine noticed them on her way in and told the nurse they were with her.She led the boys to the sub-level hospital.

Catherine explained Janis's injuries Prowl cocked a brow ::So, her name is Janis...hm:: he immediately shook whatever ever he was going to think about, out of his mind.

and just ignore the damn bond, but, that over like a lead balloon the second they stepped foot into Janis's room "Whoa! you bonded with the girl I almost ran over?!" Bluestreak said pointing at the comatose blond as Jazz looked at the younger praxian oddly,

"You almost what?" Bluestreak immediately explained the whole situation as Prowl put the basket on the little nightstand next to Janis's berth and just stared at her, she was actually not bad looking, she was 'pretty' for a human.

his spark clenched a bit when he noticed the the stitches on her face and the cast on her wrist, Catherine did say she had a cracked rib. so, there's definitely a bruise under that gown no doubt.

it was his fault she ended up like this what was she even doing at that school so early? he spied one of the cards [Get well Vice-Prez! student council just ain't the same with out ya!- Nora] he briefly looked up what student council meant.

:: Oh, the who ever her school president is must asked her fill in.::

"Huh, what do ya know she's second in command of her peers."

"It's not wise to invade the personal space of others Jazz."

"Ey I just wanted to see Freckles up close, she's pretty cute, too bad I didn't see her first."

Jazz joked with a mock pout, Prowl didn't seem to take his joke to well , as he let out a growl before shaking his head and calming down then noticed they were missing someone

"where's Blue?" the TIC looked at his friend "Oh, he wouldn't settle down, so i told em' to check and make sure our parking pass hadn't expired." the agent smith like avatar nodded before Dr. Gates returned "I hate to be that gal, but visiting hours are over. Jazz and Prowl nodded and Jazz's Avatar disappeared.

Prowl made a move like he was going kiss Janis before he caught himself "what the hell am I doing?!" he exclaimed out loud as Dr. Gates watched him somewhat annoyed as she had other patients to see.

"I don't know, but, you might want to give that avatar makeover, before someone thinks you're some 40yr old pedophile." she advised a little creeped out by the whole scene; the police mech gave her the stink eye before disappearing.

When Optimus had heard about Prowl and Janis; he wasn't angry or anything just surprised...confusing his SIC he assumed Prime would be furious!?

then Hilary came to visit and Prowl noticed the sudden change in his leader's behavior, when the SILO leader met Optimus's gaze and smiled at him,causing the leader to sit up a little straighter.

as Prowl finally connected the dots on Prime and commander Bellamy's relationship, how long had this been going on!? he went to intervene when a tiny voice yelled :: | He said while bonded to a earthling!| :: and bit his glossa he's pretty much 'Calling the kettle black' as the humans say...

two days later.

Prowl’s mate was awake. he could sense her confusion, alertness,and distaste then it stopped; as wave of anger and despair suddenly shot through his senses.

he was tempted to see her but, Ratchet told him keep his distance and take it slow. and let her get used to everything. then she’ll come to him.

Prowl growled to himself, his door wings twitched; his optics kept focusing and unfocusing. as all his protocols were telling him to seek out his mate.

end part 1

(This prowl in based of of the Transformers Prime design.)

#Prowl #Transformers Prime #transformers fanfiction #my stuff #prime prowl #transformers universe #maccadam #jazz #bluestreak #ficlet #my writes #accidental sparkbond

1 note · View note