Mafia Imagines

9 - Poetry

Imagine...

You sniffle, groaning as the cough that howls through your tired body, your chest heaving as you rub your hands over your sore and tired eyes, your arms aching with tiredness, even from the small movement. Throwing the used tissues on the floor, you grab a fresh one from the pink, green, blue and purple floral box.

You had caught a cold. It was probably from when you went out to the shops the other days

"Y/N just take the guards with you. I don't want you getting hurt!!" He pleaded you, as he rubbed his hands across his face, getting agitated with your stubbornness(aka your best and worst trait).

"I'm full grown woman! I don't need a baby sitter." You retort, crossing your arms across your chest as you send him your harshest glare.

"Mia Amore, do you really want to carry 20 bags of books?" He answers, smiling as he knew he'd won.

"Motherf**ker." You mumble grumpily under your breath, but loud enough for your gloating god-like boyfriend.

"I'm sorry love, did you say something?" He teases, stalking closer to you, towering over your y/h (your height) frame.

"I love you, you're amazing, I've been entirely blessed to have you in my life!" You answer, smiling overly sweetly, as he leans down to kiss your lips...

Rolling out of bed, you trudge over to your glamorous ensuite, stripping out of your (his) warm jumper and tracksuit pants, before turning on the shower- hopefully a hot shower will make you feel alive, you think as you step under the steaming water, feeling your sore and aching muscles relax, as you do your normal shower rituals.

"Princess!" You hear his angelic voice call put to you, as you're wrapping the large, white super super fluffy bath towel, as you walk out of the steamy bathroom.

"Hey," you whisper softly with your raspy voice, as his eyes look at you with concern.

"Are you okay? What's wrong? What do you need?" He rapid fires questions at you, as he sweeps you into his arms, cradling you gently into his chest, his overly large hand caressing your cheeks, as he carries you over to your messy, unmade bed which was covered in tissues, blankets and sore throat lolly wrappers.

"Gosh, you should've called me!" He scolds as he places you under the covers, tucking you in like a small child, as he begins to clean up you mess, sending you a stern 'stay-in-bed-and-don't-move-a-damned-muscle-you-need-your-rest' mother hen look, as he continues tidying up your room.

Your eyes grow heavier, as you watch your insanely hot boyfriend clean up your mess, soon drifting off, your sickness luring you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

********

You wake up the next morning, groggily stretching and slowly regaining the use in your sleep laced limbs, yawning, the oxygen slowly circling through your lungs into your blood system, as you reach over to find a tissue, to blow your blocked nose.

Looking around the darken room, you notice a tray on the bedside table, holding a glass of orange juice, and two tablets, along with an envelope.
Taking the tablets, and a large drink of the orange drink, the cool liquid sliding down your throat as you relish the coolness on your stinging and painful throat, before reaching for the crisp envelope.

Dearest Mi Amore,

You're my star.

It was dark before you came, though I didn't know.

It was cold before you came, though I didn't care.

It was lonely before you came, but I didn't mind.

Or so I thought.

And then, I met you.

And now, it is light with you in my life.

And now, it is warm, with you in my arms.

And now, I am complete with you being mine.

I love you.

Your boyfriend, Y/BF/N

You smile at the sweet poem, reading it over and over, your red eyes creasing at the corners with every alphabet that creates words.

"Good morning sleepy head," You grin as you turn to see your poet.

"Where have you been hiding these skills?!" You exclaim, waving around the letter, as he shyly rubs the back of his neck- a tendency he does when he's anxious.

"It's cheesy-"

"It's adorable! It's like- like, the sweetest thing anyone has done for me- ever!" You cut him off, as your eyes flick over the handwritten note  again, cherishing the words over and over, your heart still swelling at the words.

"I guess I might have to write to you more," He teases you, crawling into before pulling you into his arms.

"You're gonna get sick dumbass!" You scold him, trying to wiggle out of his stubborn embrace.
"I don't get sick. I have an amazing immune system!" He gloats as he kisses you.

The next day, he was sick too.

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Written: 29/October/2021