Day 4 (July 21, 2014) ————————————– – Track: “Wish You Were Here” Artist: Pink Floyd Album: Wish You Were Here (1975)
Genre: Classic Rock ————————————————
This is easily my favorite Pink Floyd album and the song is just exactly how I am feeling right now. After today’s amazing news and just the rush of happiness I am fucking beat.. Getting ready for bed there is nothing I want more than my girlfriend cuddled up next to me as we go to sleep.. Goodnight everybody!
Oh the fluff…SO much fluff :) Just a one shot with juice and fluff because why not :)
“Juice!” You hop off the bar stool and jump, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Jesus, Chibs.” Juice catches you quickly and stares at him. “Juicy boy, she’s fine one second and then giggly the next.” Chibs shrugs and takes another drink. “Juice, baby, I’m fine.” You pat Juice’s cheek lightly as he starts smiling. “Uh huh.” He mumbles. “Where were you? You missed all of the fun.” You ran your fingers over his head, smiling and tilting your head as his eyes close. “I just got back from a run, remember?” Juice kisses your hand as it falls to his cheek. “You’re right.” You smile and hug him tight. “You were gone for so long!” “I was gone a week.” Juice laughed at your dramatics. He always found you adorable when you drank, which wasn’t often. “What brought this on?” “She challenged me to shots, which I forgot how much of a lightweight she is so,” Chibs motions towards you. “I needed a distraction.” You nuzzle into Juice’s neck and pull back, prodding at your own face, “baby, my face is numb.” “Always is when you drink.” Juice runs his fingers through your hair as your smile widens. “Yeah it does. You know what else happens when I drink?” You hold his face in between your hands. His smile widens to the impossibly big smile, your favorite, causing your cheeks to redden and heart to flutter. A Wendy’s bag appears in front of him and you scream out. “Potatoes!” “Yeah, potatoes.” Juice kisses your cheek and you giggle. Chibs snorts next to you, watching the scene. “Hey. Are you numb?” You turn to Chibs and poke his cheek. “No, love.” Chibs smirks while he holds your hand and kisses your knuckles. “You’re Irish, you don’t count.” You pout and Chibs laughs. “I brought her car for you. Just leave your bike here, I’ll take care of it.” Chibs talks to Juice while your pointer finger traces his scar on his left cheek. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Filip. You didn’t deserve it.” Your arms close around the back of his neck as you hug him tight. “Thank you, love. I barely even remember they’re there. Don’t worry your pretty little mind about it.” Chibs pats your back and lightly moves you to Juice’s arms. “Hey. We should go get a dog.” Your eyes brighten. “We have a dog, babe.” Juice nods to Chibs and begins walking you to the car. “Shit! You are so right. He’s so snuggly.” You rest your head on his shoulder as you walk, “you are so snuggly.” You trip over your own feet and grip onto his arm, your eyes going wide. “Oh my god I’m so sorry.” “You alright?” Juice snorts. He opens the door to your truck and helps you sit in the passenger seat. He starts to back away until you place your hand on his cheek and pull his attention up to your face. “I love you.” You whisper. You can see a small amount of red stain his tan cheeks as his chocolate eyes lock on yours. “I love you too, (Y/N). Let’s go home, ok?” He brushes your hair back and puts your Wendy’s bag in your lap. “Shit! I forgot about the potatoes!” Your face brightens causing Juice to laugh as he gets in the driver’s seat. Your head whips to the side to see him smiling. You shove a hand full of fries into your mouth and after swallowing them, you rest your head on his shoulder. “We should get married.” Juice bites his lip and laces his fingers through yours, bringing them up to his lips and kissing them individually, paying more time on your ring finger where the wedding ring he gave you a year ago sits.
A/N: I know. This is long over due. But I’m back baby for real this time. There will be a few more parts to this so hold on tight. I’m a little rusty so bare with me. But yeah, that’s it ((: I’ll insert the other parts to this when I get home.
“I’ll go, okay? Call me later okay?” He said, worried about you. He hugged you before he left, but you were tense, and it didn’t help. You could only imagine how he felt after that.
After he had left, you locked your door and sank down to the floor, bringing your knees to your chest.
You let out a deep breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and along with it, a sob. You felt awful. And as fresh tears stung your eyes and streamed down your face, you wondered if you would ever actually be good enough to be with anyone ever again.
You rolled over in bed, tossing the covers off of you. You couldn’t sleep. The night had been filled with tossing and turning and worry. You worried that you truly screwed things up with Jared.
So many different thoughts circulated your mind as your hands flew up to your face and rubbed your eyes, not even bothering to look at the time. How could anyone be this damaged? Who really let their ex get to them like this? Why were some guys such assholes?
But as you laid in bed, pitying yourself - just like you hated, your hands moved from your eyes, and slid down to your lower abdomen; and for a moment, you closed your eyes, and thought back to the time whenever you had it all.
Extending my tired arms above my head. I stretch out my sleepy limbs. I lift my body into a sitting position, running my fingers through my H/C hair. My E/C eyes trail around the room before finally resting on the body next to mine. A soft smile graces my lips.
I move my fingers over into his light hair, “Joe?” I whisper, my voice raspy.
The chestnut colored haired male lifts his head from the pillow. Blinking his weary blue eyes open. “Good morning,” He croaks out, voice thick with sleep. I place my lips on his forehead softly and then stand up from the bed. My feet walk me through the hallway and into the cozy living room. My hands trail up and down my sides trying to create some warmth. My eyes sweep across the room. My ears perk up at hushed voices. My smile grows as two sets of feet come running into the room I’m stood in. I crouch down opening my arms ready for my children to come running into me.
“Mummy!” Quintin’s little voice shrieks in excitement. His twin Hayden, squeals when I poke his side softly. The little body’s push themselves against mine as hard as they possibly can. I laugh with them. The boys both have the same messy H/C hair that adorns my head but have Joe’s electric blue eyes.
After a few minutes of us talking and laughing the boys run off and go to play. I stand up and walk into the kitchen. My bare feet walk me across the room and over to the stove and begin cooking some breakfast for my family.
Joe comes into the kitchen a while later, flicking on the Television. The news appears on the screen, “We’re turning into actual adults now,” Joe jokes. I laugh nodding my head, pouring us each a coffee before sitting down next to him on the island bench. The TV lights up with a ‘Breaking News’ story.
“An epidemic has broken out,” My brows join together, “Young children around the globe have been dying from a mysterious disease that is burning their skin.”
A strangled cry comes from somewhere within my house. My eyes widen and my head snaps to meet the panicked blue eyes of my husband.
“Joe,” I draw out as he stands up and half-runs into another room eyes wide searching for our children.
“Quinn, Hayden!” He calls out. My eyes widen as they chase after the brown haired male. I stand up from the bar stool and make my way through my house, following the movements Joe had made only moments prior.
“Daddy?” Hayden’s shake voice calls. Joe’s and My eyes meet. Tears spring to my eyes at the weakness of his voice.
“Hayden?” I call out softly, watching him walk out of his and Quinn’s shared room holding his hands out silent tears falling down his cheeks.
“Whats wrong buddy?” Joe asks, bending down so that he’s in Hayden’s eye line.
My mind goes into overdrive. Where’s Quintin? My feet move me towards the bedroom. Quinn’s cries curse my ears. My eyes look down towards the screams. Quintin’s messy H/C hair is all over his now red face as he screams and cries. I gather him into my arms, making my way out of the bedroom and into the hallway, Joe has Hayden in his arms. Limp, Hayden was limp.
“Call an ambulance!” I shout voice frantic.
The rest of the day happens in a blur. Tests are run on my boys, but nothing comes back.
“Mister and Missus Sugg?” One of the many doctors we had seen today comes over to where we’re standing slowly, a sorrowful expression on his face.
“Nothing has worked has it?” I ask softly hand locked tightly in Joe’s. The doctor shakes his head softly, “I’m sorry for your losses.”
My eyes widen but no tears fall. My mind and body go numb. My babies have passed.
“No!” I shout my body falling towards the ground, before being caught by my husband.
“What was it?” Joe asks softly. His arms supporting me.
“We’re not sure,” The doctor says cautiously. I nod my head slowly. My weight seeming too much for me to hold I allow Joe to hold all of my weight.
I scoff, “So none of you know what has killed my babies?”
“No we don’t,” He says wincing slightly at the awful answer. My eyes well with tears and I pick up my body and begin to walk outside and away from the place that had killed my children. Silent tears fall once I’m out in the air.
My gaze travels to the sky, my tears subside and my breathing regulates. My eyes harden. I must find out what has killed my children.
REQUEST: could you do a fic were dan and y/n are having a baby and while y/n is having the baby she dies and how dan reacts and stuff. P.S You are my favorite tumblr blog!
A/N: Thanks! I hope you like this! :)
Trigger Warning: death
“Breathe, baby. The doctor said you need to breathe. Remember how we practiced?” I said, panicked. I held y/n’s hand with one hand and wiped some hair from her sweaty brow with the other. She was in her 34th hour of labor, and I could tell she was starting to slip. She was struggling to keep her eyes open and her breathing was becoming labored. The doctor had told me they were getting concerned about both her and the baby- the stress on her body was putting them both in life-threatening pressure- and encouraged me to try to keep y/n awake and remind her to focus on her breathing.
Y/n barely registered what I said and her eyes looked glazed over. “Isn’t there anything you can do?!” I snapped at the doctors. My fear of losing y/n was getting the better of me and I was lashing out. Part of me knew I was being unreasonable, but I couldn’t think logically.
The machine y/n was hooked up to started beeping loudly and everything began moving so fast it was hard for me to understand what was going on. “We have to do an emergency c-section or we will lose them both,” the doctor said bluntly.
“What?” I nearly shouted as they began rolling her away. “Are they going to be okay? Is y/n going to be okay?” I knew it was bad, but I was more worried about y/n. I didn’t know what I would do if I lost her and the idea of being a father on my own terrified me.
“We are going to do all we can to save her, sir. But you need to wait out here.”
“Let me see her for just a second at least before you take her. Please,” I sobbed. He nodded and I rushed to her side. “Y/n, baby, it’s gonna be okay. They’re going to get the baby out of you and put her in your arms and we’ll have our little angel. It will all be okay. I love you so much,” I said, kissing her forehead and holding her face in my hands.
“Sir, we have to take her. Time is of the essence,” the doctor said. It took all the strength I had, but I nodded, letting go of her. I watched as they rolled her away into another room and my knees gave out, causing me to crumble on the floor.
The next few hours were the longest of my entire life. Finally, after what felt like eons, a nurse came out holding a small bundle in her arms.
“Mr. Howell?” she said, strolling up to me. “I’m so sorry, but you’re wife didn’t make it. We were able to save the baby, just in the knick of time. She’s a miracle baby.”
I felt numb. It was almost like I wasn’t in my body. It felt like I was living a nightmare. It all became ever so slightly more clear though when the nurse placed the baby in my arms. Though the pain I was feeling was paramount, my focus centered on my daughter. A held in my arms my only piece left of y/n, and I knew I had to do everything in my power to give her the best life possible. My y/n would live on through our miracle baby. After all, she gave her life to give me this most precious gift, and though I wish I could share it with her, I know y/n would want me to focus on our daughter rather than the pain of losing her.
1. Poetry cannot sew itself into the lining of your heart. Some days the words will flow like conversation; some days you will not be able to move your pen past the date on top of the page.
2. Poetry cannot ask you how you are when you are curled up in an empty bed. It cannot touch you like waking up at 4 a.m. with arms like vines wrapped around your waist.
3. Poetry is not a replacement for friends. It cannot comfort you; it can only lay your thoughts out in front of you and show you the horrible things your mind can do.
4. Poetry cannot help you when the world feels like jagged baby teeth numbing your shoulders. It cannot pry them off of you and convince you that you are not doing as bad as you think you are.
5. Poetry is not a consoler; it’s not a life coach. It can show you choices, but it cannot help you choose.
Warning: SUPER SAD!!!!! Trigger warning for those who are sensitive to any type of mental illness eg depression, miscarriage, swearing
Author’s note: This was if you were John’s first wife and hadn’t had any children.
You wiped away your tears quickly, hearing John come through the door. You were sat on the couch wrapped in a throw from your bedroom.
“Hello love,” John said leaning down kissing your cheek. You didn’t move. Ever since you lost the baby, you felt numb. You didn’t just feel sad, you felt lost. Like you were slipping further into this hole in the ground further and further away from your old self, with no way of getting out.
“So what do you want for dinner then?” John tried again to get you to speak, but you shook your head. You had no appetite barely eating anything for a couple weeks now. You had lost a lot of weight, hadn’t slept very well and had barely left the house.
“Come on (Y/N), you need to eat.” You didn’t say anything, just kept staring at the wall. That’s all you could look at. Looking at John would break you. John was almost as broken as you were, his first born taken away from him. But looking at you shattered his heart every time.
“Nothing huh?” He asked again. When you said nothing he flipped, throwing the table, smashing the vase that was sitting in the middle of the table. You flinched at the sound and his sudden outburst of rage. “Fuck this! You know this is hard for me too!” He roared before grabbing his coat and slamming the door behind him.
“I don’t know what to do Pol, She doesn’t sleep or eat. I see a tired drained (Y/N), but she isn’t really in there.” John was exhausted he came to his Aunt Pol’s asking for help as he fought back the tears.
“Go hold her, tell her you love her and everything will be OK. You can’t do much else right now except letting her know it will get better and that you’re there. She’s grieving.”
“That’s the thing Pol, It doesn’t seem like she’s just grieving.” Pol looked at her nephew, she could see how shattered he was, Physically and emotionally. She gave John a hug and he crumbled as if he was a little boy. “I just… I just can’t believe there’s no more baby.” John needed to grieve too but he was acting as strong as he could to fool everyone into believing he was ok.
Your hands were shaking as you took all the pills and medicines out of the cupboard slowly lining them up along the sink. You were crying non stop. You couldn’t breathe. This was how you felt since you lost the little one, You couldn’t imagine a way out of this. Why could you not picture a day when you felt like this? You breathed heavy looking into the mirror, the person looking back at you wasn’t you. Big bags under your eyes, hair sparsely sticking up all over your head, your cheeks hollow. This wasn’t you. You weren’t you. You slowly paced through to the kitchen to get a class and quickly fill it up with water before taking it back to the bathroom with you. You picked up the first pill, placing it in your mouth and taking a swig of water to flush it down. Your hand was shaking as you tried to keep the water in the glass. You picked up the second pill and that’s when you heard the front door open.
“(Y/N)?” You heard John call from your kitchen. You started to scramble up the pills so you could hide them from John but your hands were shaking so much they landed all over the floor. You screamed as every pill collided on the floor, collapsing on your hands and knees on the ground sobbing. “(Y/N) what the fuck…” John was standing in the bathroom doorway his voice wobbled as he whispered to you. “How much have you taken?” You were crying so hard you could barely speak or think. Crying so hard you couldn’t see John crying too. You managed to hold up one finger to him before letting your head collapse in your hands.
“I can’t do this!” You screamed, your voice echoed through the whole house. You grabbed the side of the bathtub and started throwing your head against the side of it with some force. John quickly dropped down beside you pulling you into him. At first, you tried to fight him punching against his chest and screaming but after a couple of seconds, you fell completely into him. Sobbing into his chest as he pulled you closer into him hiding his face in your hair.
“I can’t lose you (Y/N), I can’t lose both of you.” He was sobbing almost as hard as you were now. You sat there with him for a couple minutes before your breathing started to return to normal and your crying wasn’t as persistent. He pulled you back assessing the injury on your head and wiping your hair out of your face.
“Please… I need you, just let me help you. I grew up and learned to be independent I’ve not needed anyone since I was a boy, but I need you, I can’t do any of this without you.” In that moment you hadn’t realised that you hadn’t thought about John. You hadn’t thought about how he’d live here alone without his wife or baby. You stroked his face with both hands, placing his hands under his jaw so he was looking at you.
“I love you, I need you. I am so so so sorry John,” you managed to get that out before sobbing again. He pulled you into a tight embrace before helping you to your feet and practically carrying you to the bed. Once he helped you in he went back to the bathroom to clean up the mess, you could hear him quietly sniffling trying to keep calm. This broke your heart. When he got back to the bed he climbed in next to you and you pulled yourself close to him hugging him tightly. You hadn’t done this in a while, you had barely touched each other since getting back from the doctors that day.
“I promise you (Y/N), everything will be ok.” You smiled at him nodding as he placed a light kiss on your forehead as you nuzzled into his shoulder and drifted to sleep. The first full night sleep you had in awhile.
I don’t want to be unsympathetic, truly I don’t. But every verbal member of my household has been griping about how uncomfortable they are, and with the turns they are taking, it’s pretty much non-stop. Yesterday, I thought I would be able to get fifteen minutes of silence by taking a shower and my husband literally followed me into the bathroom until I pointedly asked him what he was doing in there.
I get it, boys. You’re uncomfortable. The doctor and the internet both said that it’s a painless, itchless rash, but that’s not the case for you.
Guess what? I’m uncomfortable, too. I’m 38 weeks pregnant with what will likely be an 8 pound baby. My legs go numb when I stand up for more than 15 minutes, I can’t squat down without screaming pain in my vagina, and I wake up all night between needing the bathroom and nearly suffocating when I roll onto my back because I’m still congested. It sucks.
I’m still doing laundry, making food, tidying up, and trying to tackle big household projects. Husband’s method of “handling the mail” is to open everything, “only take care of anything that’s about to be an emergency” and then leave the rest in a pile. So today I tackled all the bills that were about to be an emergency because they weren’t handled when they got buried, filed or shredded months worth of paperwork, and reorganized our mail table to try and prevent this from happening again. It took freaking hours.
All this to say, I’m just uncomfortable as the rest of them, but I’m still trying to take care of business. And I was sympathetic when everyone was feverish and/or throwing up. But if you’re well enough follow me around the house as I work, complaining about your ailment, then it’s not really that bad. And after four straight days of this (preceded by three days of taking care of actual sick people while I was sick myself), I’m completely out of patience. There’s a human person who is about to explode out of my vagina, I’m sorry that your toes itch, and you can’t fully taste the cookies I baked you from scratch yesterday. Now bugger off.