#OF NOTE I DID NOT INTEND TO TAKE FOUR-FIVE MONTHS TO RESPOND | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yuthoe · 4 years ago

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Time (MONSTA X: Chae Hyungwon)

a few things:

1. yes i'm a monbebe now too and i fully blame fatal love era hyungwon for it. he has my multistan ass whipped

2. THIS IS THE LONGEST FIC I'VE EVER WRITTEN FOR THIS BLOG HOLY GAWD

3. i'm back to going to the office everyday for work, so we're back to infrequent posting lmao

ok so. i've wanted to write a vampire fic for so long now (the previous/first one i wrote was back in 1st year high school and despite my massive vampire kink i didn't attempt to make any other vamp related stories haha), and when i saw hyungwon in that red suit with the long hair and the eyebags and the turtleneck i just kinda went feral. this thing took me like, almost a month to write; it's been hard to cook up writing brain juice between work and trying to be healthy and keeping up with the pan de manila.

i fully intended for this to be like, sexy suggestive and leading to something more for the ending, but like. it turned out soft. somehow. the premise was perfect, but somehow my brain was like, "no make it soft" and we have whatever this is.

this is unedited bc i wrote it half-asleep and wanted to get it out there

PAIRING: Chae Hyungwon x reader. GENRE: vampire!AU, some fluff, modern fantasy. WARNINGS: vampire-typical injuries—biting, blood—some very mild sexual themes. WORD COUNT: 3,589 (holy shit).

---

The entryway is lit by the two dim overhead lights, casting an orange tint to the concrete floor. You take care to slip your shoes on quietly, not wanting to accidentally wake the slumbering man in the other room; he just got home a few hours ago and you didn’t want to cut his sleep short, remembering how he slowly slipped under the covers with you, winding an arm around your midsection and releasing a heavy breath before passing out.

So with a glance at your watch—the one he got you for your birthday a few years back, the one you’ve worn almost everywhere since—you grab your work bag and try to slip off the chain lock with as little sound as possible.

“Are you leaving for work?”

You flinch at his voice, huskier now with remnants of sleep. Hyungwon has a thing about soundlessly walking into places and surprising you by suddenly speaking. Your face scrunches at your failed attempt to slip out unnoticed, and a loud sigh escapes your lips as you turn to face him.

“How long have you been awake?” you ask, stepping right to the elevated wooden floor that separates the entryway to the living area. Hyungwon is wearing a white shirt that completely swallows his slender frame and loose pajama pants. You cup his soft cheek, drag your hand to his neck, his shoulder, down his arm, until you’re intertwining your fingers.

“Pretty much since you left the bed,” he mumbles, taking his other hand and wrapping it around you, pulling you to his chest. You feel him rest his face on the top of your head and breathe in your scent.

“Aw,” you reply quietly, smoothing a hand down his back. “And I thought I was being super quiet this time.”

There’s comfortable silence as Hyungwon basks in your warmth and you can swear he’s close to falling asleep where he stands. You think there’s no other place you’d want to be right now, but unfortunately, you need to work and he needs to sleep.

You let go of the strap on your bag and tap his side gently. “I have to go,” you murmur.

Hyungwon groans, lowers his head and tilts it to the side to whisper directly into your ear. “Do you really have to? Because there’s something more important you need to do here.” He noses at your temple, his cold breath fanning against your ear.

“Oh? And what is that?” It’s too early in the day for goosebumps, and the faster you force him back to bed, the better your chances of resisting the sweet pull of his voice.

“Mmm…,” he groans again, and you feel his smile as he kisses your ear. “Sleep.”

You snort, pulling away with a soft smile, free hand coming to cup his face. You pass your thumb over his cheekbone and watch as he melts at your touch, dark bangs falling over his closed eyes. “I’ll be home early today, love,” you say, pressing a soft kiss to his plump lips.

Hyungwon’s eyes open unhurried, and he leans down to return the peck, lips moving slow against yours like honey. “Hurry back,” he mumbles against your lips.

***

A quiet sigh leaves his lips as Hyungwon toes off his shoes, leaving them at their designated space at the entrance. He hangs his bag and coat on the hooks before silently walking through the apartment to the bathroom, eager to scrub himself clean of the aggravating scents and grime of the club.

Hyungwon loves his job, he does. The people he interacts with there, though? Still up for debate.

The hot, almost scalding water seeps into his skin, warming him up from the outside. He’s used to the cold, he himself being below the normal human temperature for nearly a century now. The droplets sting a little, but it’s the pain that grounds Hyungwon to reality, a sort of proof of life in his years of floating along the endless river of time, never knowing when and where his journey would end.

There’s another pain, a burning in his throat, that reminds him well of his immortality. It assaults him every few days, and over the years has dulled from hurting so bad he nearly claws out his neck, to just being a pain in the ass that makes him cough if he doesn’t slake the thirst.

Hyungwon’s body cools rapidly when he shuts off the water, the soft April chill helping it along so that he’s mostly dry when he grabs his towel.

The bedroom is silent when he slips in, quickly dressing in the huge shirt and loose pants from yesterday, before he ducks out again to make a beeline to the kitchen, folding his tall frame into a crouch as he opens the refrigerator. There’s a space just for his blood bags in the far corner of the fridge, that he immediately scans and finds empty. Hyungwon groans and slaps a hand over his face.

Of course he forgets to stop by the blood bank tonight. He vaguely remembers taking the last bag four days ago and making a mental note to call Kihyun for his refills, but there must have been something that distracted him at the time because at present, he can’t recall contacting Kihyun about it at all, despite exchanging messages regularly.

He stands to his full height as he closes the door, leans his head against it as he mulls over his forgetfulness that never went away in all his years of living. And before he slips back into your bedroom and into the sweet realm of sleep, he rummages in his bag for his phone, texts his friend, gets a short scolding about his poor memory, and then sets a date to pick up his food.

Hyungwon quietly pads back to the bedroom and closes the door soundlessly, careful not to wake you. He slides in next to you, pulling the comforter snug against him as he rests on his elbows. He takes a few seconds to gaze at your sleeping figure, something he does every night. The random thought of coming off as creepy on the off chance you wake up runs through his head, but at the same time he thinks he wouldn’t mind if you catch him watching you sleep.

You know Hyungwon loves you, and he’s told you before that you’re one of his anchors to his hold on humanity. Never once in your two-year relationship did you take his vulnerability for granted, and he’s (quite literally) eternally grateful for your kindness and love.

He settles in on his side, and his shuffling has got you adjusting to his shape under the covers. Hyungwon feels you turn to face him and reach for his arm. You groan small, pull at his slender limb to wrap it around you, and he just lets you move him the way you want, an amused smile on his face. His other arm slides beneath your neck, and you nuzzle closer to him, breathing deep when you’re finally satisfied. He counts five seconds before your breaths even out in slumber.

Hyungwon presses a kiss to the crown of your head and inhales your scent, relaxed now and ready to follow you into sleep.

***

His alarm wakes him at noon, the shrill tone making him jerk and tighten his arm around the warm body in front of him, brows scrunching as he groans softly. Hyungwon stretches an arm towards the nightstand and turns off the alarm with an expert swipe of a finger. He buries his nose into your hair, not wanting to enter the land of the living yet. You respond with a hum, shifting and turning so your back is pressed against his chest.

You both try to doze off again before Hyungwon realizes two things:

One—It’s a Friday.

Two—You’re still in his arms.

“Love,” he mumbles against your hair.

You reply around five seconds later, with a simple grunt.

Hyungwon snorts a laugh, eyes still closed, but mind slowly waking with every passing second. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

Another grunt from you, this time louder and longer. You shuffle under the sheets to turn to him again, eyes persistently closed and brows knit slightly. “Took the day off,” you mumble and slither your arm under his, scooting closer to bury your face in his neck. “Wanted to spend some time with you.”

At this Hyungwon smiles, rests his cheek on your head. “So we have until tomorrow night to do whatever then.”

It’s quiet for a few moments before your head shoots up. The movement startles Hyungwon and makes his eyes pop open. Bleary eyes meet, yours equal parts confused and suspicious. “What do you mean? You took the night off, too? But it’s Friday—the club’s gonna be packed.”

He levels you with a casual shrug. “Yeah,” he says, sliding his hand up your arm that’s around him, and stopping at your neck. His large hand completely covers your neck, long fingers splaying onto your cheek and winding into your hair. “I wanted to spend time with you, too.” He clears his throat. “I’ve missed you.” Hyungwon can feel the steady pulse under your skin and he clears his throat again.

You smile, lean down to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

And another one.

And another.

And you would have rained more kisses on him had he not started coughing and turned his head away. The ache in Hyungwon’s throat wasn’t that bad when he was asleep, but now that he’s awake, it’s irritating to the point of annoyance. He knows the thirst is his fault, but damn, would it kill him if he could have a peaceful morning (noon) with you before his body complains about being hungry?

He feels a hand smoothing down his back as the coughing goes down. He takes shaky breaths as he sits up and leans on the headboard. After a big exhale from him, you say, “Are you okay?”

Hyungwon looks at you and smiles tightly. “I’m fine. Just a bit hungry.” He sits up, only to scoot closer to you and wind an arm around your back. He rests his forehead on your shoulder as he talks, voice low and scratchy. “Ran out of my supply and I forgot to call Kihyun about it, and it’s been a few days since I had a drink. And it’ll be a couple more days before I can stop by the blood bank for my refills.” A cough.

Your arms are around his wiry frame, fingers running up and down his spine and making him drowsy. He’s still tired and sleepy, but the thirst is keeping him awake.

“Do you want a drink?” you ask quietly. “From me?”

Hyungwon stills, a shiver running down his spine. It’s not all the time he gets to drink from you; in fact, he makes it a point to not do it because he doesn’t want to scare you off. You’ve been living together for six months, known each other for years before that, but he still worries, silently waiting for the day you decide that being with a vampire isn’t worth it after all.

“No, it’s fine,” he says. “I’m fine.” He pushes down the cough building in his throat.

You card your fingers through his long hair. “I know you try not to, but I’m okay with it. You sound like you’re really hurting.” You rest your head against his. “We’ve done it before, and it didn’t really hurt. And I trust you, Hyungwon.”

Hyungwon is tired. Is sleepy. The thirst isn’t all that bad, but the coughing is aggravating his already dry throat. He hasn’t gotten a sip of blood in five days and nothing else could quench this particular thirst quite as well.

A small cough. “Are you sure?”

Your head is still resting on his and he feels you nod. “Yeah. Besides, I…” You clear your throat before speaking. “I like it when you drink from me.”

The vampire freezes, not quite knowing what to do with this newly revealed information. He’s not sure if what he feels right now is mild lust or genuine surprise. In the (very) rare times he drinks from you he thought he saw a twinkle of anticipation in your eyes, like you’ve been craving it, too. He thinks maybe his view of himself is clouding whatever opinion you have of him, bad and good alike.

Hyungwon’s lips purse, trying to keep himself from laughing because he can tell you’re serious about this, just as worried about him as you are excited about the prospect of being bitten; it’s still a bit unbelievable. He finally raises his head and looks square at you.

“You’re really okay with this?” he asks again. “You really want me to drink from you?” He crosses his legs under the blankets and pulls you with the arm still around your back.

Sometimes you forget Hyungwon is so strong—he doesn’t make his strength known to you, unless you both need it a little rough in bed. Now, he practically lifts you onto his lap, emboldened by your declaration. You straddle him, sitting snugly with both his arms around you; your hands naturally find themselves on his broad shoulders.

“Mhm,” you simply say, nodding your head. Adrenaline is running through your veins, and you’re sure Hyungwon can clearly hear how loud and fast your heart is beating right now.

It also seems like he can read your mind because he takes one of his hands and rests it softly against your chest, right over your heart.

You see him swallow. “Your heart is beating so fast,” he says, dragging his hand up to your neck, fingers soft on your skin, and you shiver. “Your pulse is racing.” Hyungwon is looking at you like you’re a meal he can’t wait to devour. “You’re really excited about this, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you say, even though you don’t really know if what you’re feeling is excitement or embarrassment or lust of fear. You can’t recall any of the previous times he fed from you being this tense—it was always out of desperation and pain that he reached out to you for this, and despite this moment being along the same lines, it’s… very different.

The loose collar of your sweater—one of his you pilfered long ago—is pulled to the side, and you shiver again as his fingertip brushes against your skin. Goosebumps raise on your arms as Hyungwon trails that single finger over your collarbone, up your neck again, to cup your chin and pull you in for a kiss.

His lips are gentle, but you can feel he’s holding back, trying to take it slow in case you change your mind. When you respond and bite his lip, he growls and pulls you by the back of the head to kiss you deeper. The arm around your back tightens, and you feel his fingers tangle in your hair as he angles your head the way he wants.

Tiny moans spill from your lips as Hyungwon’s tongue explores your mouth. When he pulls away, your sight is flooded with his red irises, gold specks swimming in the pool of his eyes that almost glow in the dark room. So chillingly beautiful.

You’re breathing hard, unable to look away from Hyungwon’s captivating gaze. A thought passes through: No wonder humans just fall at their feet—who could look away from such a mesmerizing sight?

“Last chance,” he mutters, wetting his plump bottom lip, his scarlet eyes fixed on your neck. “You really want this?”

You card your fingers through his head and tilt his face up, dropping a kiss to his closed eyes, his nose, his pretty lips. You cup his cheek and give him a small smile. “Do it.”

Hyungwon takes a deep breath and kisses your cheek, trails his lips to nip your earlobe, and then lower… He goes slow, building up your anticipation, getting your heart rate up with every kiss and nip and suck.

He laves his tongue over a spot on your neck, and you let out a sigh, relaxing in Hyungwon’s firm hold. The hand still tangled in your hair guides you, tilting your head to the side. He noses at your neck and gives you a final soft kiss, before he draws his fangs and punctures your jugular.

You squeak in pain; the bite stings, but it goes away as fast as it came. You feel Hyungwon draw back his fangs and begin to suck, dragging his tongue over the wounds, and groaning low in his throat at the sweet taste of you.

It occurs to him how much he misses feeding from you. Because of the rarity of these occasions, your blood becomes a treat to him, a sort of delicacy that he deliberately denies himself of. It didn’t take him too long after that first taste of you long ago, to realize that your blood is dangerously addicting.

Hyungwon focuses on drinking your blood, drinking in the small moans you make as he marks your soft skin. He feels your restless hands clawing at his back, the other winding through his long hair—pulling him close or pushing him away, you don’t know.

Your senses are heightened and dulled; you’re acutely aware of every miniscule movement of Hyungwon’s lips on your neck, but the rest of your body feels like it’s floating. He groans against your skin and the vibrations send a jolt of lightning up your spine and you whimper.

Hyungwon immediately pulls back, worried he hurt you. His mouth is stained red. “Are you okay?”

You’re nodding before he finishes, cupping his cheek with a hand. “I’m fine, Hyungwon.” You give him a small smile as he melts into your hand, one of his coming up to keep it there. “Did you want more?”

He shakes his head. “I’m feeling better now. Thank you, love.” He exhales, and you think he does look better than earlier—his skin is brighter, the bags under his eyes are gone, and he’s even breathing more easily. “Let me go clean you up,” he says, and lifts you gently off him, setting you down on the soft comforter just in front of him. He pats your knee before getting up and padding to the bathroom.

You gaze at him as he leaves, the sight of his model-like figure waddling like a penguin amusing. Hyungwon stops at the door and turns to you, smiling at you softly.

He returns a minute later, warm damp washcloth in hand, mouth clean and eyes a lovely brown. He sits at the edge of the bed and cleans your neck with gentle swipes. The bleeding has stopped and the wound is closed, but the surrounding skin is blooming with black and purple bruises. Hyungwon clicks his tongue. “I’m sorry, love. The bite’s gonna leave a mark.”

You carefully tap the wounds, smoothing fingertips over the raised marks. They sting a bit, but it feels more like the soreness after getting a vaccine shot than anything. “It’s okay, love. They’ll heal over the weekend.” You catch his lips in a soft kiss. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

He sets the bloody rag on the nightstand and moves closer to you, kissing you back, cradling your neck for support as he coaxes you to lie on the bed. You smile through the kiss, giggle as you wind your arms around his neck.

“Thank you,” he mumbles against your lips. “You looked so beautiful earlier… Thank you for letting me do that.”

You hum. “Anytime, you need, babe. I enjoyed it.”

Hyungwon is propped above you, a thigh slotted between yours. Lazy, slow kisses against the soft sheets seems like the perfect activity for the rest of the day. But you have other plans.

“I gotta admit, though,” you said, brushing his long bangs from his eyes. “That was… kinda hot.” You try to fight a smile, embarrassed at the admission, despite the compromising position you were in just minutes before.

Hyungwon chuckles, ducks his head to press a soft kiss to the puncture marks, the underside of your jaw, your earlobe. “I didn’t expect you to be so into it,” he whispers, his baritone voice seeping into your bones and making you shudder.

You laugh loud at that. “Well, my boyfriend is a hot vampire, what did you think was gonna happen?”

Hyungwon laughs with you, rests his forehead on yours and kisses you again. He buries his face into your neck, the unmarked side, and snakes his arms around your back and rolls you to your sides.

Fingers trace mindless shapes on his back, play with his long hair that’s tangled from your restless hands earlier, relax in the quiet of the afternoon. Your heads are at the foot of the bed, legs tangled together. From the top of Hyungwon’s head, you can just barely see the sun peeking through a slit between the dark curtains, but all you want to do is sleep.

You’re close to dozing off when Hyungwon suddenly speaks. Three words. Your favorite.

“I love you.” He squeezes you slightly and breathes in your scent.

You smile and reply, “I love you, too.”

The world outside your window keeps turning; the weather looks nice today. But you’re not stepping out, not when your whole world is right here, snuggled in your arms.

#kdiarynet #monsta x #monsta x hyungwon #chae hyungwon #monsta x hyungwon scenario #hyungwon scenario #hyungwon scenarios #hyugnwon imagine #fic: mine #fic: hyungwon #fic: not spicy #but it's mildly #monsta x smut #just putting that tag there just in caseee #BABY IS FINALLY DONE #i hope yall like it

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cinnamon-roll-seth · 5 years ago

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Not Good For You (Part Two) || JJ Maybank

- Part One

Two weeks after you and JJ’s break up you attend a party with the intentions of getting over him but he has other plans.

It had been two weeks since your breakup with JJ and although it killed you inside you’d stayed a far distance away from not only him but the rest of the crew as well.

You didn’t intend to push them away, especially not Kie whom you’d known your whole life, but you couldn’t help but think about what JJ had said. Of course they’d choose him, he’s a pogue. You’re a kook, you don’t have any business being friends with any of them.

Your father was practically throwing a party at the expense of your feelings. He was hardly around, he didn’t see how deeply the break up had affected you. Your mother, on the other hand, was worried for you.

You wouldn’t leave the house, spending hours a day simply moping around the halls. You also quieter than usual. You had your issues with your family, and truthfully they hadn’t seen you much in the past few years since you’d become friends with the pogues, but when you were around them you were usually happy and talkative. Now you’d hardly said a word in days and looked like nothing but an empty shell of her daughter.

JJ hadn’t been doing too well either. He was angry and withdrawn. The others had never seen him this way before, not even after the multiple times he’d gotten beaten senseless by his father. That night after you stormed off he’d told them about the talk he’d had with your father.

They all told him that he was an idiot for letting your dad’s words get to him and begged him to go to your house and make things right, but he stood his ground even though every part of him wanted to listen to them.

JJ felt guilty watching them miss you. The five of you had spent practically all everyday all day together for the last couple years and although he’d been the one actually dating you the breakup was hitting them just as hard as it was hitting him. He could tell they didn’t want to bring it up much for fear of upsetting him.

Three days after that night the four of them had woken up after a night of nearly no sleep. John B had yawned before saying, “Ugh I wish Y/N was here. She makes the best coffee.”

Upon seeing the hurt on JJ’s face he’d apologized and they’d all tried their hardest not to mention her since.

They all were currently laying around the chateau in silence when suddenly John B speaks, “You know what, I’m sick of this. I’m sick of being all sad and depressed because of...” He trails off but the others already knew what he was going to say, “We should throw a party.”

“A party? John B do you really think that’s a good idea?” Kie asks, running a hand through her hair.

“Think about it guys! I mean, back in the day there was nothing that a good old kegger couldn’t fix, remember?” It was silent for a moment while they all soaked up his words.

“I’m down,” Pope shrugs and Kiara nods as they all look towards JJ.

“JJ? You in?”

“I don’t know. Maybe count me out on this one?” The blonde boy replies and the other three groan.

“Oh come on JJ. You never used to turn down a party! And besides, maybe you’ll meet somebody and move on from-“ Pope stops talking as Kie harshly elbows him and turns to glare at her.

They all stare at JJ as he thinks it over and finally sighs, “Sure, yeah.”

Kie and Pope cheer as John B smiles, “Great, it’s a plan then.”

—

“Y/N do you still have that diamond hairpin that I let you borrow a few months ago?” Your mother asked as you watched her get ready for a party her and your father were going to.

“Um maybe?” You responded, knowing damn well you gave it to JJ to pawn off.

“Well can you go check your room for it please? It would really help out my outfit.” She pleads and you sigh.

“Yeah, I guess.” You walk out of your parents’ room in across the hall into your own, nearly screaming when you realize somebody is already sitting on your bed waiting for you, “Jesus Kie, you scared me! What are you doing here?”

“Y/N we miss you. All of us do, we’ve all been struggling with loosing you, especially JJ,” She whispers the last part but you hear it anyway and shake your head.

“Kie if you’re here to try to fix things between me and JJ then you should probably just leave. He told me exactly how he feels and trust me when I say that he is not interested in getting back together so please just stay out of it.”

Kiara’s heart sinks and she’s tempted to tell you the truth about why JJ said those things instead she shakes her head, “No no, Y/N. That’s not why I came. I- we’re having a kegger tonight on the beach. Please come, I miss my best friend.” She pleads.

“I don’t know Kie. Watching JJ flirt with and be all over other girls knowing I’m not over him doesn’t really sound like my cup of tea.”

“I doubt he’ll be doing that. Besides the beach is huge, you don’t even have to see him if you don’t want too!” She insists.

“And what about the other boys, what do they think about it?” You ask wearily.

“They don’t even know I’m here but I know they’d be so happy if you came. They miss the hell out of you Y/N. It’s not the same without you there.”

She stares at you for a moment while you think. You have missed them and going would probably get your mom off your back. But what about JJ, you know your heart isn’t ready to see him again. You know what, screw JJ. Like Kie said, the beach is big enough and there will probably be enough people there that you won’t even have to see him.

You sigh and nod, “Yeah sure, I’ll go. But if I see even a glimpse of JJ I’m out.”

—

“Damn it Kie, we’ve been looking for you all- Y/N!” John B yells when he sees you walking behind Kiara and you laugh as he runs forward and picks you up in a hug, spinning you around.

“Hey JB,” You smile, moving to hug Pope as well.

“Where the hell have you been?! We’ve missed you!” Pope asks after you pull away.

“The land of the dead,” You laugh, referring to your house but also referring to your mental state the past two weeks, “But in case you were wondering I’ve missed you idiots too...I suppose” You add at the end, jumping away as John B attempts to punch you playfully in the shoulder.

“Don’t ever disappear like that for that long ever again.” Pope says softly and you look at the ground, feeling guilty.

“Hey, don’t feel bad. We understand that you needed some time.” Kie reaches out to put a hand on your shoulder. You look up and smile at her weakly.

“Yeah well I’m over being sad. Now if somebody doesn’t get me a beer right now I’m leaving,” You smirk and they all laugh.

“Yes your highness,” John B bows playfully and runs off towards the keg.

—

“And that’s when he said ‘just yank the damn thing out!’ Stupidest thing I’ve ever heard him say,” The kids around you laugh as you tell them the story of when John B stepped on a fishing hook, chugging down the rest of your sixth (or seventh?) beer.

As the night had progressed you surprisingly hadn’t seen JJ and you were relieved for that, instead inserting yourself into a group of tourons that were already wasted and would probably pass out on the beach, unable to navigate the way back to their hotel.

You were also quite tipsy, just enough to have that extra courage to do things you normally wouldn’t, which is why you currently stood wrapped up in the arms of some random touron that you didn’t bother learning the name of.

The kids around you began a new conversation and you turned and stood on your tip toes, leaning in to the boy’s ear, “I’m going to get another beer and then you should take me back to your hotel.”

He nodded, eyes going wide, and you wink before walking over towards the keg. You fill your cup to the brim and head back to the group, waving at Kie with a smile as you pass her talking to one of her coworkers at The Wreck. You’re nearly back to the group of tourists when the voice you were hoping you wouldn’t hear tonight calls out your name.

You ignore him and keep walking but he follows and grabs your wrist, gaining the attention of the tourons near you, “Y/N can we talk?”

“Oh hey JJ. Guys, this is my ex-boyfriend, JJ. He broke up with me because I’m rich.” You say sarcastically, taking a sip of your beer.

“That’s not why. Y/N please, I need to talk to you, in private.” He pleads and you shake your head.

“Isn’t it though? You broke up with me because you were afraid of ‘dragging me down to your level’ and ‘ruining my hopes and dreams’, because apparently you think I’m only capable of being happy if I’m rich right? So yeah, essentially you did break up with me because I’m rich and your not. Or was it the fact that I’m too clingy and pathetic? What, did you come to tell me? That I need to move on because you haven’t loved me for a long time? Well sorry JJ but for once in my life I don’t give a shit what you’re about to say next so can you leave? I was doing just fine having fun over until you had to come ruin it. Jesus, you really don’t want me to move on and be happy. Who’s the pathetic one now.” You snap as everyone around you ‘oohs’ and you hear one of them say ‘damn bro, she told you’.

“God damn it Y/N. Of course I want you to be happy, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. I- I didn’t mean anything I said that night. Please just let me explain.” JJ says again.

You hadn’t seen him tonight but he’d seen you. He’d watched from afar as you talked and laughed and when he saw you in the arms of that boy his heart broke even more. He couldn’t stand seeing you with someone who wasn’t him and with that he finally decided to tell you the truth.

Finally you roll your eyes, “You have ten minutes to explain yourself.” He tries not to smile in triumph and nods, pulling you away to a quiet spot, away from people.

“The night of Midsummers I had every intention of finding you Y/N. I wanted nothing more then to find you and have you in my arms. As I was looking for Sarah, to give her John B’s note, I ran into your dad-“ You scoff and roll your eyes.

“Of course my father has something to do with this. What did he say, huh? Did he tell you how dirty and poor you are and how much he hates you and doesn’t like you? Yeah he told me that same thing multiple times JJ but I didn’t break up with you because of it.”

“Yeah he started out with that. And I told him that I wouldn’t break up with you. But then he started talking about how being with me would ruin your life and how one day I’d get into trouble and drag you down with me and you’d have to give up your dreams.”

“And did you ever once stop and think about what those dreams were? Or did you just automatically assume? Just because I’m a kook did you think my main goal in life is to go to a fancy college, marry a handsome rich man, and have some spoiled little rich kids running around?” You ask angrily.

“No! No of course not. I- to be honest I don’t know what I thought.” He admits sheepishly, looking at the ground.

“Yeah well you wanna hear my dreams for my future? The ones you were so worried that you would ruin? JJ when I think about the future I dream about having more adventures with you and the others. I dream about us getting married out in the middle of the water on the HMS Pogue with the people we love most watching, one of them can get ordained to perform the ceremony, I don’t care who. I dream about finding a cute little house close to the water that we can call home, like the chateau, some place where our children and their friends can hang out and call home. I dream about having a bunch of little mini JJ’s and mini Y/N’s running around, probably having to break up a few fights if they have a temper anything like their father’s. I dream about growing old with you and watching our grandchildren grow up and have their own adventures just like we did and our kids will after us. Or so I thought. Funny how you broke up with me because you were so worried about ruining my dreams but you breaking up with me is the thing that ruined them huh?” You laugh humorlessly.

“Y/N I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot, I know that. I know that I was wrong for what I did and what I said. But Y/N I can’t live without you. These past two weeks have been hell without you and I just want you back. I’m done listening to what other people think I swear.” He replies softly.

“I thought you fell out of love with me? Yeah because I’m too clingy.”

He shakes his head furiously, “That was a lie. I only said it to push you away, like you accused me of when I said it in the first place.”

“You called me pathetic JJ. You told me that you felt bad because I have no other friends and that you knew the pogues would choose you over me because you’re a pogue and I’m a kook.” You reply softly, more hurt now than angry.

“No. No you’re not Y/N. You might have a kook family and live in a kook house on the kook side of the island but you are a pogue. You’ve always been a pogue and I’m an idiot for not realizing it sooner-“

“You’re an idiot for a lot of things.” I laugh softly and he returns it.

“Yeah I guess I am. My point though, Y/N, is that you are a pogue. In fact the pogues aren’t the pogues without you. Nothing Is right without you. You do have friends, we are your friends. Nothing will change that. Even if you don’t forgive me right away or at all, even if you don’t want to take me back. I don’t care what happens as long as you’re in my life because without you nothing is the same.” Your face softens as you see a tear rolling down his cheek and reach forward to wipe it away.

You stay leaned in, just staring into those blue eyes that you love so much, the same ones that have caused you so much pain in the past to weeks. Finally you sigh and whisper, “Of course I forgive you. My dad got in your head, that’s not your fault. And I’ll admit I am a little stubborn.”

He smiles, “Does at mean?”

“Kiss me you idiot,” You laugh and obeys, cupping your cheek softly as he leans in and kisses you sweetly. After he pulls away he just rests his forehead against yours for a moment, soaking up as much affection as he can after missing it for two weeks.

“You didn’t address the pathetic comment,” You joke, pulling away and he laughs, standing up and offering you his hand.

“I say we go find out friends, yeah?” You take his hand and nod.

“Hey I thought you wanted to go back to my hotel?” The boy from earlier calls out as you two walk past.

“Sorry bro, she’s mine. Hey, maybe you should talk to your friend over there though, she’s been staring at you all night!” JJ calls and you laugh as he pulls you towards the pogues who are now grouped together around a fire.

“Hey! I see you two made up. Did dumbass here finally listen to us and tell you the truth?” Kie yells jokingly as the two of you sit down on a log across from her.

“He did and I’m not letting him take ‘advice’ from my father, or anyone, ever again.” You answer, curling into his side.

“I don’t plan on it. I promise, I’m never leaving you again. What do you say about making your dreams a reality?”

You smile as he wraps his arm around you, “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

So here it is, the end 🥺 I hope it did part one some justice and fixed your broken hearts. Can I just take a minute to tell you all how shocked I was when part one blew up? I did not expect it to get that much attention but I’m so happy it did. Ever since I posted it I’ve been reading all of your comments and it makes my heart so happy so thank you 💕 I’ll be writing more soon so if you liked my writing then be on the lookout for that 😉

Taglist- @itsskythoo @rudyypankow @downbytheouterbanks @obxlife @justsomegirlontheinternet @alltimekp @starkeybaby @timotaychalabae @fernweh-fangirl @howdyherron @mavelfanatic @hotel-colson @yeehaw87 @sofiluvschu (I hope I didn’t forget anybody!)

#jj maybank imagine #jj imagine #outer banks imagine #outer banks #jj maybank #john b routledge #kiara carrera #pope heyward #rudy pankow imagine #rudy pankow #jj x reader #obx jj #multifandom

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chews-erotically · 5 years ago

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Waxing Gibbous Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY

*Note: I dedicate this installment to the beautiful @ifimayhaveaword, who really made my day today with her lovely messages of support. People like you truly mean the world to me. I appreciate you more than you know.

* Warnings: Some minor angst/ miscommunication/ SMUT (m/f oral, fingering, hand job, spicy kisses) Can’t stop the smut train baybeeee choo choo motherfuckers * Summary: You process the events of the night before, and wonder about your place with Ezra and on the Green * Word Count: 3879 *Part ONE* *Part TWO* *Part THREE* *Part FOUR*

PART FIVE

You Awoke the next morning feeling as if it were some erotic fever dream. You stretched your arm out across the emptiness of the cot pushed beside yours. It was only when you moved to roll onto your back that the deep pang of soreness between your legs reminded you that, yes, what you’d wanted for months had actually happened, and you did indeed feel ruined. Ezra appeared to have left the tent in the early morning haze. You gazed upward at the ceiling of the tent, at the support beams that vaulted the cloth walls. Things were going to be different, that you knew. It did not make you any less apprehensive. He had told you he loved you. Or, more accurately, that he had love for you.

You could not forget the tenderness he’d shown you after you were attacked, but you were well aware that things said in the heat of passion were often a product of an intense moment and were not necessarily reflective of the truth. You chided yourself for ruminating; he’d been a nanosecond from coming inside of a warm body for the first time in undoubtedly several months. From your admittedly limited sexual experiences, proclamations of love and devotion and promises of ardent follow-through were often expressed in the heat of the moment, never to be mentioned again. You usually never saw them again.

This was different, of course, as you literally could not leave. You were both stranded, though you still kept up the pretense of harvesting in the event an opportunity to escape should present itself. The chance of this happening had begun to seem less and less likely- the heyday of the aurelac rush had long since come and gone, and the remaining groups of adventurers to the Green operated more or less on whispered rumors and folklore. The zipper of the tent pulled upward, and Ezra emerged. The flaps were quickly refastened, and he moved to whip his helmet off as you shyly pulled your worn blanket up to your neck. You had been wanton and vocal the night before, but in the light of the morning you felt fragile, unsure. Ezra looked to you, seemingly amused by your sudden modesty. The corner of his mouth tilted up, his warm brown eyes twinkled. The blond patch of hair, a rogue among it’s dark compatriots, stuck out wildly in response to the chaotic divestment of his helmet. He wasn’t even close to you and your heart started pounding. “Ah, good morning to you, Dove. I was hoping you would continue your slumber a bit longer. I have spent some time in the early light surveying the Green for signs of life and transport, not necessarily in that order, of course.” In the months since you’d first met him in the clearing on that fateful day, his arm had fully recovered thanks to your ministrations- all that remained was a cratered, puckering pink scar on the skin of his bicep. He wore a threadbare grey tee under his suit and this drew your eye to the wound. If something were to happen to you, if this did not pan out and you either died or escaped, were separated, would he remember you when he saw his scar? Would it be with fondness, or would it only remind him of how traumatic this all was? Why am I thinking like this? It was the fact that he had admitted, out loud, that he was looking for a way out, a way off of the Green. You knew that you would both die if you could not find a way to go, it was only logical. So why were you nursing this pang of melancholy that had emerged when you’d awoken to find his cot empty? You came back to yourself, and noted the concern etched on Ezra’s face as he contemplated you. “Have I said or done something to upset you, Dove? That has rendered you mute?” He moved across the floor of the tent with a lithe grace and perched on the edge of your cot, placing a hand on your knee. “Are you feeling alright?” You sighed, smiling softly when you felt his touch on you, warm and heavy. “Better than alright, Ez. I….can’t….I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around what happened last night.” He creased his brow in contemplation and turned to face you fully. “I must admit, I myself did not envision such intimacy occurring between us in the manner it did. I…. fear I may have been a fair bit rougher than I meant to be at the outset. I need you to be truthful if I hurt you in any way.” You bit your lip, and your neck and face felt hot. Flashes of him caging you, filling you, his words, hot breath and hands, the way the cot had creaked like it was pleading for its life… “I….really loved everything about last night. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone...like that. So honestly, I’m sore. But in a...good way?” He surged forward, framing your face with his hands. His voice left his plush lips in a hoarse whisper. His eyes held yours, hypnotic and deep. “Will you feel me with every step you take today? I’m going to watch you. I have never felt such intensity with anyone the way I felt it when we took our pleasure last night. I don’t want it to stop.” You were flushed, your ears buzzed. Your mind filled with static. How could he practically dismantle you in this way with only words? You realized your mouth was hanging open. You snapped it shut and swallowed audibly. Ezra’s clever tongue darted to wet his lips before squeezing your knee and standing. “Get dressed, Dove. We’ve a day ahead of us.”

It was another hot day in the Green, and you both resumed your digging, harvesting and cataloguing as if it were any other afternoon. For all intents and purposes, it was. Ezra waxed poetic about the juxtaposition of the beauty surrounding you beside the deadliness of the air, how the regular exchange of oxygen, hydrogen and carbon dioxide were perverted carbon copies of the vegetation you were both used to which processed and sustained an atmosphere more life-sustaining. You hummed at the appropriate moments, but your mind was on your conversation in the tent. What he had said to you seemed indicative of the fact that he intended to continue a physical relationship. It made you feel equal parts giddy and insecure. You frowned in thought. Snap the fuck out of it. You’re no delicate, blushing maiden. You know yourself. You’re seriously thinking like some incapable, dependent damsel the second you get some good dick?? Except you moved a certain way while crouching down and you winced, gasping softly. Ezra stopped mid-sentence and turned his gaze toward you, his eyes dark, his tongue once again flicking out to moisten his lips. “Are you injured, little Dove?” he asked, smiling softly. “Uh, no, not exactly. You know, what I told you before...I’m fine, really.” He sauntered over to you and held out his hand. You grasped it, and he pulled you to your feet so that your helmets were touching. “As cocky as I may have seemed at the outset in regards to the way I left my mark on you, do not think it is no little concern to me to see your movements impaired. My words were not meant to denote any sadistic pleasure taken in regards to your objective discomfort.” His hands were stroking gently up and down your arms as he spoke. You shrugged under his hands, a flash of annoyance crossing your features. “I’m really fine, Ez. I’m not some wilting flower that you’ve irreparably damaged with your Godlike virility. I promise you, my delicate, blushing womanhood will recover.” Ezra cocked an eyebrow in surprise. His hands stilled as he paused a beat before responding. “Now that is something I would not anticipate. The thought that for one moment I consider you anything less than an equal, in fact a superior to myself in several ways, not the least of which include cunning and resilience. It saddens me that you think that of me.” All at once you felt like a jerk. Damn this emotional lability, damn this stubborn pride. Ezra was genuinely concerned that you were in pain, and you were jumping at the opportunity to argue semantics and gender roles. On a toxic planet you were both stranded on, no less. You reached for his gloved hand, squeezing firmly. His hand squeezed back, equally firm. “I don’t know why I said that, Ezra. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I sound like an asshole, I’m sorry.” You’ve gotten into me.

You were back in the tent after determining that the day's work had finished. It was quiet, Ezra ruminated. The tension had surely rebuilt itself over the course of the day, there was only so much harvesting, so much concentration on work that could be accomplished, before it came to this. The both of you, stripped to your thermals. You lay as you had countless times before, facing one another on your cots. Ezra swept his thumb lazily back and forth across your knuckles. You felt like you could drown in the depths of him. “I’m sorry again about what I said to you today. I don’t know why I said it. I didn’t mean it.” “Though you have nothing to apologize for, Dove, I will readily accept if it will still the turbulence within you. I meant what I said, and I have you to thank for every bit of happiness I doubted I’d ever feel in this Kevva-forsaken place. My arm, my livelihood. My life. If not for you I’d have faded forgotten like so many other poor, foolish dupes. My very survival is due to your strength and intellect.” You felt full to bursting at his words, overwhelmed by his sincerity. You couldn’t respond, so you propelled yourself forward and pressed your lips to his desperately. He stilled only momentarily, startled at your boldness, before he responded hungrily. Lips slid, teeth clashed. His tongue begged entry into your mouth, which you granted with a whimper. He tasted somehow sweet, wild. His breaths gasped into your mouth, you pushed your own back into him. Hands tangled in hair. You had yet to see him unclothed, you reached out and grasped his shirt in your needy fist. Ezra immediately took the hint and stripped it. You removed your own and his hands were at once on your breasts, large warm hands that enveloped each in turn, greedy and restless. He couldn’t touch enough of you at once. His hands moved to your waist, tearing at your pants. You helped him pull them off and fling them to the ground. You felt like you were radiating heat, you were a thermal detonator. Ezra pinched your nipple, applying slight pressure into the bud with his thumb nail. Your nerves sparked and sang, your ass arching off of your cot like you’d been hit by an electrical current. You gasped, your trembling hands moving to divest him of his pants. His hand shot down to still yours. You both paused, the only sound within the confines of your quarters were the loud gasps that echoed between you. “Is….is something wrong?” Ezra fought to still his breathing. “Sweet girl, I have not forgotten my rough congress with you the night before. I do not want to risk exacerbating your discomfort. You should recover, first, from our mutual enthusiasm.” You groaned in frustration. “I’ll be fine. Ezra, I promise you won’t break me.” You palmed him through his trousers, Kevva he was so hard. So hot. You swore you were salivating. Ezra stilled, breath held in an attempt to maintain his composure. “Please grant me this, at least for my own peace of mind. Just for tonight. Allow me, if I may, to indulge in an alternate form of intimacy, one which I’ve dreamed of sharing with you since your first trick with the Sater.” The last sentence was gritted out between clenched teeth. Your eyes wide, you bit your lip and barely finished a frenzied nod before Ezra was pinning your hands above your head and scraping his teeth against the juncture of your neck and shoulder. It was somehow different, more measured, if no less intense. You let a shiver run through your body as Ezra moved down to first one breast, then the other. He opened his mouth wide and covered the entirety of your nipple and sucked. You gasped, already overwhelmed. You felt as if you could lose your mind as he possessed you. Teeth scraped and teased, and he made sure the peak of your breast was properly slicked before repeating the motions on your other breast. You keened out into the cycled air of the tent as the wet surface of your skin cooled, warring with the sinful furnace of Ezra’s mouth on your other breast. He disengaged, intentions clear as he continued to kiss, lick, and nip down the length of your body. You were struck mute and trembling. You didn’t realize he had let go of your hands, and you were so mesmerized that you kept them stationary above your head. Ezra reached your drenched core and settled between your legs, pressing feather-light kisses to your inner thighs as you whimpered. He was going to kill you. He paused, and as you realized he was beginning to part your inner folds you started and reflexively started to close your legs. Ezra huffed, placing a searing palm against the inside of your knee in protest. “Don’t be shy, sweet girl. There is no shame here with me. I consider it a compliment of the highest order that you are blooming for me like this.” He moved to lay his head against the side of your thigh. He felt inches away from you. You could feel every warm exhale against your dripping sex, hypersensitive, attuned to every word and movement. “Look at you,” he crooned reverently. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen arousal so profound. Glistening like a jewel. Every blushing fold spread open and ready. The temple of this divine cunt fluttering and weeping for me.” You choked out a broken groan at his words and tilted your hips toward him desperately. Impossibly, you felt him closer, his breaths tiny explosions on your swollen core. He groaned back in response and dragged his fingers languidly through your slick. “.....smell so good…” Before you could register his words he darted forward and licked from your clenching hole up to your clit, his tongue wide and flat. Ezra ran his tongue back down to your base before repeating the motion twice more. It was a feeling so intense, sensation so overwhelming to you, that you could not speak, only throw your head back with eyes and mouth wide in a silent scream. Your hands hammered down to your sides and you tore at the sheets beneath you. “....taste so fucking good.” You gasped his name like a prayer. You were incapable of speech, your mind blank. Over the din of white noise between your ears, you heard Ezra speaking your name reverently. You forced your head up to meet his gaze. Your arousal was a wet sheen across his face, his eyes blown wide, hair wild. So beautiful. “You still with me, Dove?” You could only give him another desperate nod. You then watched, eyes wide and shocked, as Ezra opened his wicked mouth and let a strand of spittle drip down from his lips and roll down to coat your engorged clit. “Ezra...oh my fucking God,” You moaned. He could kill you in this moment, snuff your life like a wasted candle and you would thank him. When he next attached his mouth to you and began to tongue your fluttering cunt, you could not stop the noises that left your gasping mouth. You could not keep track of the groans, whimpers, screams, pleas that left you like an incantation. If you’d been able to form a coherent thought, you may have even supposed (correctly) that Ezra would be cataloguing every single one. When he moved his mouth back to your aching clit, he replaced his tongue with two thick fingers and entered you easily. He began a slow, deep pace while his tongue danced across and upon your bud. Your legs began to shake of their own accord, muscles jumping and fluttering. Ezra placed a hand across your stomach to steady you, murmuring low praises. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. So good. Come for me sweetheart. Let go, release onto my tongue, spill your ecstasy into my mouth.” He resumed the labor of his fingers within your walls and latched his mouth to your bud and began sucking. The pressure in your belly, between your legs, through your limbs stretched tight and snapped, and you roared Ezra’s name into the void of the Green. You were shaking, you were flying apart, the world could be crumbling down around you, you did not care. I’m dying, you thought. You could not think beyond the white-hot, searing pleasure that sparked through and lit up every nerve ending. Ezra worked you through your explosive release, easing you down with slow licks and kisses as he greedily consumed every drop of his victory. He finally relented and crawled back up your shaking body. He kissed you wantonly, gasping into your mouth. You tasted your own arousal and release on his lips and tongue- it was intoxicating. He kissed you as if he would die if he stopped, his hands cradling your face. “Ezra,” you moaned, your breaths and heart rate finally beginning to slow. “Ezra, that was…..” You felt him smirk against your mouth. You gasped out a laugh and wound your arms around his shoulders. “Proud of yourself, are you?” You swore on your soul that he giggled. “While I must admit fault has never been found in my technique, I don’t believe I’ve ever had a response so….intense. You do wonders for my ego, Dovie.” He whispered, tucking his nose into your neck. You stroked his back, your limbs heavy and loose. You could have drifted away like this but for the hardness you felt against your hip. “Hey, Ez?” “Mmmfff.” “What about you?” To punctuate your point, your hand reached down to palm him through his trousers. Ezra’s demeanor immediately changed, lazy grin stilling as he gasped and groaned against you. “I believe I told you I wanted you in my mouth last night, Ezra. I still do.” “You don’t have to, sweet one. I wanted to take care of you tonight,” he gasped, even as he began to rock his hips into your open hand. “I want to take care of you, too,” You whispered against his mouth. You were startled by the desire flooding into you once again- Ezra had fully wrung you out, you should be exhausted. Instead, the flames of your lust were stoked once again as you rolled him onto his back and began to undo his pants. Ezra stared down at you, his breathing hitched and baited. His hands were fisted on either side of him, he looked almost scared to move. You revealed his swollen aching cock, red and weeping. He was so aroused the head of him was almost purple. You swore you could see his pronounced veins pulsating. Your felt your cunt clench, further shocking you. You realized your mouth was watering. “I need this divine cock in my mouth, Ezra. I want to watch you fall apart for me.” Ezra whined, hands clutching in desperation as yours were only a short time before. You flashed him a salacious grin and opened your mouth to spew your own string of saliva to cascade down the head of his cock. Ezra gasped, eyes wide. “Turnabout is fair play, Sir.” Shudders racked his body as you lowered your head, placing delicate kisses at the base of him before working your way up. Ezra quickly became a panting, groaning mess, knocking his head into the pillow. The cords of his neck stood out in stark relief as his hips canted upward in search of more of your mouth, more of anything. “Please, sweet girl,” he moaned, is voice thin and reedy, “Please. I need more….” You glanced up at him as your hand slowly pumped his length, considering, before once again leaning forward. Without preamble you opened your mouth and took him down as far as you could. The cries that erupted from him at your action could have awakened any floater within a 15-mile radius. You wanted to hear it again, so you dislodged him from your mouth before repeating your action. You clasped hour hands around the sizable part of him that did not fit, lacing your fingers together. You pressed your palms against the slick shaft and worked him slowly and steadily while the obscene, wet noises coming from your mouth reverberated throughout your quarters. Ezra was properly wrecked, sobbing and gasping, pleading for you to continue. “You're going to kill me,” he whined, and it caused a fresh flood of arousal to run down the insides of your thighs. He was so, so close. You could feel his cock twitch and swell impossibly. You raised your eyes to meet his, mouth popping off of him, strands of spit stretching like cables between your parted lips and his glistening head. Catching your breath, you wiped the back of your hand across your mouth. “Come in my mouth, Ezra.” Ezra could only whimper in response, hands buried in your hair as you sank back onto him. You bobbed your head once, twice, three times, and then he was painting your mouth and tongue with his seed. You struggled to swallow it all, it seemed neverending. Ezra sobbed, shouting half-formed words and unintelligible praises into the air. His hips twitched and rolled up rhythmically as you struggled to keep him captured within the confines of your mouth. You swallowed each spurt eagerly until Ezra tugged at your hair, hypersensitized, to pull you up his chest. His limbs trembled in aftershocks as his arms wrapped around you. His heart continued to hammer in his chest as you lay your head on him. You reached a hand up to cup his face. Ezra leaned into it, turning his head and placing a kiss to the palm of your hand. “You are magical, Dove. Transcendent. I do not deserve you.” You yawned and burrowed your head into the crook of his neck. You were suddenly exhausted. You stayed entwined on your cots, breaths slowing and steadying as you both found your slumber. Inhaling as you exhaled, you dreamed of escape, daring to hope against hope that there was a way to leave and make your way to something better. Something you both deserved.

#chews-erotically writes Ezra Ezra-Prospect

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wickedgamesoyaoya · 5 years ago

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⇺ ⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂ ⇻

↣ Masterpost

↣ inspired by @haik-choo’s post

↣ wc: 2.4k

↣ warnings: emotional pain, swearing, mentions of sex (not outright anything).

↣ format: mixed

↣ song recommendation: 5 Seconds of Summer - Lover Of Mine & 5 Seconds Of Summer - Ghost Of You

↣ preamble: atsumu miya never understands what he has until its too late. from a young age, he only focused on his own satisfaction and accordingly, his own pleasure. the only reason your relationship was able to stand the test of time was solely because of your accommodating nature. but sometimes, it still hurts… the lack of appreciation. would he truly care if you stopped leaving him little love notes in your shared apartment? would he notice if you stopped keeping pace with him during your morning walks? did he even care that you only woke up at the ungodly hour to spend more time with him? with those questions unanswered, some days you wonder if love should hurt this much.

After winning five consecutive matches, a formal banquet was arranged to celebrate MSBY’s notable achievement. The guest-list was littered with numerous B list celebrities, with the occasional A lister promising to attend. What was originally planned to be a small gathering morphed into an evening gala that attracted media coverage, and a significant crowd. Some were desperate to secure an invite solely to catch a glimpse of one of the star players; while others were significantly more interested in the foreign chief that would be designing the menu for the function. Whatever the motivation, each attendee expelled an aura of excitement, one that was highly contagious. Accompanying the delectable atmosphere was a sugary scent wafting throughout the establishment. It was what Atsumu Miya deemed heaven on earth.

The blonde setter had the stem of a wineglass tucked between two fingers nonchalantly, occasionally swaying the maroon liquid as he surveyed those around him. He adored these gatherings for numerous reasons, one being the unnaturally attractive crowd it allured. Not that he planned on approaching any of them with nefarious intentions – he had a date after-all. The same one for the last four years. You. However, he refused to believe there was any harm in simply admiring from afar what he could have but chose not to. It provided him a rush of exhilaration, knowing that if he chose, he could secure the interest of any woman within the vicinity. Oh yes, if only they were so lucky. But alas, they were not. Simply having their attention and compliments was enough, he was disinterested in the satisfaction of sleeping with them. The truth was, while they were surely attractive, none of them would provide him the consistency that came neatly packaged with you. To be blunt, you were easy. Low maintenance, as he explained two nights ago to his brother. Even now, rather than remain glued to his side, you were somewhere in the crowd, mingling with someone unknown. He preferred it this way, and you knew it.

Half an hour before dinner was to be served, Atsumu was invited to take a shot with the MSBY Ace. Bokuto’s best friend refused to drink, vowing to return home early to complete a manuscript, and so he sought a new drinking buddy. But when he approached the setter, his thoughts of drinking were replaced with a newfound concern. Atsumu notified his team-mate that his hair required a quick touch up. His usual spikes were beginning to droop, resembling a withering flower.

“Akaashi! Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Tsum, do you have any gel?” A pout registered upon his lips as he attempted to sharpen the ends of his hair using his index finger and thumb. What if someone caught a photo of him appearing less than satisfactory? The Ace, ordinary or not, should appear extraordinary on a night dedicated to celebrating him (and his team-mates).

“I don’t think it looks that bad, Bokuto-san.” The black-haired writer shook his head, prior to bringing the rim of his coffee cup to his lips. Okay, maybe he could have something earlier. But to his defence, he had only noticed the imperfection now. With a wave of exhaustion weighing over his eyelids, he was less perceptive than usual.

“You know lying to him ain’t gonna fix the problem, right?” Atsumu shifted his narrowed gaze at Akaashi questioningly, something the other male did not appreciate. “And do you really have to ask? Of course, I do. Come on.” The blonde tapped against his lower jacket pocket, where a thin container of hair-serum was kept.

“I’m going to my seat. I’ll meet you there when you’re done.” The comment was directed solely at Bokuto, in a tone that indicated the writer would rather not spend any ‘quality’ time with the setter unless forced to. The brunette was not his biggest fan to say the least.

“I’ll be back soon.” He was well aware that his best friend and team-mate were not particularly fond of one another, placing distance was perhaps the best available option. Once the writer was no longer present, the pair began walking towards the bathroom. “Say… Tsum, where’s y/n?” Instinctively, the Ace’s golden irises searched the space around them for your familiar face.

“I dunno. Somewhere. I’m sure I’ll see her at the dinner table, since we’re sitting together.” The disinterest laced in his tone startled the other male, who failed to mask his bewilderment. Atsumu ignored the puzzlement that shined in his team-mate’s eyes, dismissing the action with a limp shrug before entering the bathroom first.

Bokuto trailed in a second later, pausing at the mirror with a hand extended forward. “You guys are really weird.”

Retrieving the container from his pouch, the blonde handed his team-mate the gel then began adjusting his own appearance, beginning by ushering aside some fallen strands. The observation that was offered only brought a little laugh to exit his mouth. “Yeah? Why do you say that?”

“You don’t act like a real couple.” Bokuto did not intend to respond immediately, particularly because he desired to avoid the stare he was now receiving through the mirror. The lack of hesitation was not well received by the MSBY setter.

“We don’t need to abide by norms to be a couple, Bokkun.” Despite the sour taste curling around his tongue, Atsumu managed to maintain a smile on his lips, finding humour in his own explanation.

“Alright, so is that why you haven’t proposed yet?” The white-haired Ace mentally scolded himself for his lack of restraint. He should have bit his tongue. Oh, if only he bit his tongue –

However, this was not the first time the question was posed to him. In fact, two days ago, it was exact topic that resulted in a very heated argument with his twin-brother. He truly did not understand why proposing was necessary. You both already lived together – was that not enough?

“It’s not that serious.” Tugging at his sleeves, the setter then adjusted his cufflinks. “I love her, but I’m not sure she’s the one. I don’t know if I can really give everything up forever, for her. For the time-being, I don’t mind. But I’m not giving everything up just yet.” The final sentence uttered by the blonde was more of an affirmation to himself, one that did not register well with his team-mate. It seemed that everyone but Atsumu could see how much you did for him. His unappreciated nature was rather toxic.

“That doesn’t sound like love, dude.”

No. It certainly did not.

They say that the truth will always be revealed sooner or later. Perhaps Atsumu Miya’s true feelings would have been revealed later, if he chose to lower his voice and restrict his sincerity. Had he known that you were outside, he certainly would have taken some precautions. But how could he have known that you were searching for him, when you ran into Akaashi? Who unfortunately knew exactly where he was?

How many warnings were issued by your friends over the years? Dozens? Hundreds? What would they say now? How many red flags did you ignore?

How curious how easily you confused ache for butterflies.

The strain circling inside of your temples morphed into a throb as the liquid distorting your vision began spilling down your cheeks, dragging your mascara along with it. Behind you someone whispered your name, fear gripping their throat and muffling the sound. But you were unable to recognize who the voice belonged to, as you no longer held the luxury of having a stable state of mind.

Lifting your trembling fingers to the area below your eyelids, you stumbled attempting to discard the substance hanging on your lashes. “I need to go. I… Oh, I’m stupid. I just… I need to leave. Please.” Sluggishly, you shifted your body to face the person who addressed you earlier, seeking any aid that was offered. You couldn’t face him. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“I know. Come on.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi accidentally stumbled onto the scene just as Atsumu began responding to the inquiry. He was not staggered to hear the cruel statements fall casually from his team-mate’s lips. Similar statements were uttered in the locker-room on numerous occasions. It was your reaction that tugged at his heart. No one deserved to hear the one they loved speak with such venom, and certainly not you. “Let’s go before they come out, shall we?”

The thrill of partying as a newly single bachelor provided Atsumu Miya temporary satisfaction. Each night a stranger’s mouth was attached to his, as he clung to them, desperate to combat the vanilla scent that circulated in the apartment, even weeks after your departure. How many girls had now laid in the exact spot you once occupied on the bed? Dozens? And yet, every morning when he awoke, he continuously thought it was you in his arms, and not someone whose name he did not bother remembering. His endeavours to erase you were fruitless. Not due to a lack of effort, but because the truth was… He didn’t want to forget you.

It took a month for the realization to settle in. No longer interested in the meaningless sex that was offered by mistresses of the night, he found himself unable to leave the apartment unless there was a match scheduled. It was the only location where he could feel some connection to you. Particularly when intoxicated, he swore he could hear you whisper soothing sentiments into his ears, dispelling his fears that you no longer loved him.

But each morning, reality would register once more, providing him a metaphorical jab to his chest.

Today was no different.

It had been forty days since the gala. Forty days to mull over how just how much you did for him, and just how little he did for you. It wasn’t always like this. Over the years, he became too accustomed to your giving nature. Soon, he developed a toxic mentality that he was entitled to everything you provided. But it wasn’t always like that. It wasn’t. At least that was what he repeated to himself, hoping it was the truth.

After downing a liter of water, the throbbing in his head had dimmed to a tolerable level. And once the lights no longer strained his eyes, he reached for his phone, determination igniting in his heart.

“Hi.” The greeting was exhaled softly into the phone, as anxiety prompted your heart to beat irregularly. The uncertainty of what would be said by your former lover had your thoughts tangled into an incoherent mess.

“Hey. Thanks for talking with me.” Atsumu pressed a fist against his mouth, muffling the small whimper that threatened to sound. Oh fuck. You actually picked up. A single word overwhelmed him with the storm of emotions he usually suppressed with alcohol.

A little hum was given to acknowledge his gratitude, it was honestly the best you could offer. But it was unlike you to be so quiet. The thought that he impacted you this much only expanded the guilt he was suffocating in.

“Was I always this bad?” The setter’s eyes stung with fresh tears forming along his lids. Did he even deserve to speak with you now?

Inhaling a lengthy breath of air, silence greeted him for a minute as you mustered the courage to respond. You knew you should hate him. and yet, hearing the tremor in his voice broke your heart. Was it really your fault that you still loved him?

“You weren’t.” You prayed the words were audible, since you were unsure whether you would be able to repeat yourself.

The blonde found the slightest bit of relief in your response, although it only eased a tenth of the tension he was battling to contain. Swallowing once, he strived to stabilize his breathing.

“Will you give me another chance?”

You caught onto the small crack in his voice, symbolizing his distress and sincerity simultaneously. But you wished you hadn’t.

“Atsumu. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t see a future with me.” Even now, stating a reminder of what you heard activated the emotional wound you spent the last month attempting to heal. Could you truly ever get passed this?

“I can’t see a future without you in it.” He interjected, not missing a beat. He refused to deny it any longer. He was an idiot, but he loved you. It was more than the fact you were low maintenance. He knew that now.

“I feel like I wasted four years, do you understand that?” His confession promoted a swarm of butterflies to parade inside of your stomach, but the mental reminder of your friends scoldings kept you grounded. Pretty words would not heal the damage. Not this time. “I’m sorry. I can’t waste any more…”

“You won’t have to, y/n. I promise. Let me take care of you this time. It will be different.” At this point he was essentially begging you to place trust in his promises, even if he had no credibility.

Maybe it was unhealthy how much you wished his promise to be true. How desperate you were to lower your armor and envelope him into your embrace instead. You knew your friends would never approve of him, but his pleads were weaved together with a vulnerability you had never heard before. Before you could stop yourself, the one word the setter was waiting for left your mouth.

“Okay.” Dropping your face into your palm, you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip.

The second you agreed, the blonde was already on his feet, fetching his keys before rushing to the front door. It had been so long since the setter was flooded with joy, he could barely contain himself. “Where are you? I’m coming to you now.” Clicking the lock to a close, he nestled his phone against his shoulder.

Upon hearing the shuffling in his background followed by his question, you instantly shot up to your feet, feeling a surge of hope enter your system. “Don’t you have practice soon?” You certainly did not expect this. Not at all.

Pausing in the middle of the hallway, he blew out a scoff. “I don’t fucking care. I need you in my arms now. Text me the address and I’ll be there. I fucking love you, y/n I love you so much. I’ll never let you go again. I promise.”

It should be noted that he wholeheartedly intended to keep that promise, and thankfully… he did.

Taglist: @idiot-juice-enthusiast @shakiraisawesome

#atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x you #atsumu miya #atsumu imagines #atsumu haikyuu #atsumu scenarios #atsumu angst #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagines

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iamakiller · 4 years ago

Text

owl always love you

Wordcount: 2000

Notes & Warnings: It has been far too long since I shared any of my fiction with you, hasn’t it? Well, how about five unhappy memories of Valentines past, and one that went perfectly to plan (... or did it?)

As for warnings, there is no sex at all, but there is an unfortunate accident, and a hint of murder. Hmm, I must be going soft in my old age ...

Five unhappy memories ...

Charlie is four.

Today feels like a very special day. There were flowers and a card on the kitchen table this morning, and no arguments over breakfast. It was almost like last night’s fight didn’t happen.

At preschool, the classroom has been decorated with red and pink hearts because it’s Valentine’s Day. The teacher reads the class a picture book about an owl who was looking for love, and then they all do a craft based on the story. The teacher has drawn the owl’s face and body on card for everyone, but they have to color it in and try to write a message on the owl’s tummy. Charlie writes “Owl always love you Mommy” in purple crayon – his mother’s favorite color.

The next part of the craft is very hard. They have to trace the outline of their hands onto card, color it in, and then cut it out. They stick the hands onto the owl with glue, and fold them over, and it looks kind of like wings. Charlie is very proud of himself, because he did it without any help, and unlike the boy who sits next to him, he didn’t try to eat any of the glue.

At going home time, he presents the card to his mother. She glances at it, and puts it in her handbag.

“Do you like it, Mommy?” Charlie asks, but she doesn’t say anything. Maybe she didn’t hear him.

The next morning, he finds it in the trash.

Oh.

Well, it wasn’t very good, he realizes. His coloring wasn’t neat enough, and one of the thumbs was missing because of a mishap he had when he was cutting it out. Maybe if he’d tried harder, she would have liked it.

Maybe if he tries harder, she’ll like him ...

Charlie is eight.

Valentine’s Day has been the main topic of conversation on the playground ever since the beginning of February. It’s not like anybody ever talks to Charlie, but there are some advantages to being invisible. He hears everything. He knows exactly who is getting a Valentine, and – most crucially – who isn’t.

On the night of February thirteenth, he stays up very late. It isn’t like anyone is checking what time he goes to bed anyway, so he pulls together the materials he’s “borrowed” from his teacher over the past few days, and works until the early hours of the morning.

The next day, everyone in the class has at least one little handmade card on their desk by the end of the day.

… except Charlie.

And that’s one of the disadvantages of being invisible.

Nobody knows he exists ...

Charlie is thirteen.

According to his research, it is puberty that has turned the majority of his classmates into mindless, giggling idiots. Thankfully, he seems to be immune to this plague, and the hours he spends staring at the long, golden hair of the girl who sits in front of him in class is perfectly normal, thank you very much.

Melissa is the prettiest girl in the class by far. Charlie thinks she looks just like an elven queen ... if Galadriel had a Midwestern accent and a mother who was the head of the PTA. She is also constantly accompanied by a group of four uglier girls, who all stare at Charlie as he makes his approach, the poem he wrote for her clutched in a hand that seems to be permanently sweaty these days.

She accepts the token of his affection with the carelessness of one who is accustomed to such things, and doesn’t even say thank you. At lunchtime, Charlie overhears her reading excerpts of it to her gaggle of friends. She tosses her lovely, blonde hair back, and laughs scornfully, before tearing it up into tiny pieces and leaving it on her lunch tray for the cafeteria staff to clear away.

And suddenly, Charlie realizes how ugly she is.

At the end of February, poor Melissa has a terrible accident. One of the teachers finds her unconscious at the bottom of the stairwell hours after school has finished for the day. She must have tripped and fallen down the stairs somehow.

She makes a full recovery, but she never remembers what happened that day ...

Charlie is seventeen.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to the dance?” asks cousin Pat from where he’s leaning in the doorway of Charlie’s bedroom. He’s dressed to impress, and Charlie can smell the terrible cologne he’s wearing from all the way on the other side of the room. “I can wait for you to get changed, I don’t mind.”

“I’m too busy,” says Charlie, staring up at the ceiling. Soon, it will be time for him to turn over and stare at the wall. “And I don’t like parties.”

“I don’t like parties either,” Pat reminds him, fidgeting with the cuffs of his blue button-down. “But you’ll never meet someone special if you don’t leave your room.”

Charlie responds by making a noise like someone being sick, and turns over to show Pat his back. “Bye. Have fun at the shitty Valentine’s dance.” He can feel his cousin’s gaze on the back of his head – can picture the annoying look of concern on his face – but he doesn’t move or say anything, and finally he hears the door close, and then Pat’s footsteps lumbering down the stairs.

Fuck Valentine’s Day, Charlie thinks. Fuck parties, and fuck ever finding someone special.

Charlie is 27.

This might be his first ever Valentine’s Day in a relationship, but he’s done his research into What Women Want, and blown a small fortune on trying to make the day special. A hundred red roses, delivered to Nicole on set. Reservations at the hottest restaurant in town. A pair of Chanel earrings, so expensive he actually choked on his own saliva when they told him the price, and had to be brought a glass of water to help him recover.

At the restaurant, Nicole opens the earrings, and stares at them for a long time. Her expression is completely unreadable, which is usually the case with her. They have been dating for two and a half months, and with every day that passes, Charlie feels like he knows less about her, which should surely be impossible.

“Don’t you like them?” Charlie asks, after the silence has gone on for so long that even the people at the next table have glanced over to see what’s going on.

Nicole closes the lid of the box with a snap, and looks up at him. “So you aren’t going to propose to me, then?”

Charlie blinks. “I – Wait, what?”

And then it all goes south very quickly from there.

The next day, there’s a blind item online about it:

Which C-list celebrity currently filming a procedural drama in New York was seen arguing with an unknown male at a local celeb hotspot last night? With a string of broken engagements already behind her, it looks like this feisty young starlet is single once more after dousing her hapless companion in Veuve Clicquot!

Unknown? Hapless? How rude!

He complains at length about the injustice of it all to the cocktail waitress he brought home last night, after he had sloped off to a bar to drown his sorrows and soothe the burn of his humiliation. Naturally, she has nothing to add to the conversation – having passed away six hours or so ago – but he appreciates her presence nevertheless. So much so that before he prepares her for disposal, he takes out her fake diamond earrings, and replaces them with the Chanel ones.

“I know I’m a day late,” he tells her. “But … happy Valentine’s Day.”

It’s the thought that counts, anyway ...

And then ...

Charlie is 37.

He is awakened at 5:30 a.m. on Valentine’s Day morning by his son barging in to the master bedroom. Without saying anything, Henry climbs onto the bed next to him, and falls asleep almost instantly. Charlie throws an arm over him, in the hopes of stopping him from tossing and turning like he often does.

Behind him, there’s a rustle of sheets “What’s happening?” Kitten asks, her voice thick with sleep.

“We have our usual Sunday morning visitor,” Charlie mumbles. “It’s still early, go back to sleep.”

A leg hooks over his, an arm curls around his middle, and Kitten lets out a happy sigh before falling asleep again.

Charlie closes his eyes, but it barely seems like a moment has passed before he’s being shaken awake by a very excited Henry. “Dad. DAD! Can we give Britt the card now?”

The digital display on the clock says eight, still an ungodly hour to be awake on a Sunday, but when Charlie rolls over, Kitten is already sitting up against the headboard, with her phone out. “A card?” she says, feigning surprise, as though she wasn’t banned from the kitchen for four hours the previous day, and hadn’t noticed the layer of glitter Henry was covered in when he emerged, which necessitated a dreaded bath.

“If we must,” grumbles Charlie, astonished at the speed with which Henry scrambles out of bed and sprints out of the room. He thunders downstairs, in search of the spot where they left their work of art to dry out after its completion.

Charlie rolls over onto his back, and stares up at Kitten. “Remember last year, when we stayed in bed all day?” he asks, mournfully. “That was the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had.”

“Mm, same.” Kitten leans down to kiss him, probably intending it to be just a peck on the lips. But Charlie wraps his hand around the back of her head to keep her there, deepening the kiss until a gagging sound from the doorway interrupts them and they break apart to find Henry watching them from the doorway, looking slightly green.

“You guys are gross!” he scolds them, in a tone not dissimilar to Sandra when she is upset about something.

Charlie sits up, and scowls. “That’s not in keeping with the spirit of the day.”

“The spirit of the day is chocolate,” says Henry, approaching Kitten’s side of the bed, with one hand behind his back. “Ta-daaaaa!” he shouts, and pulls out the card, waving it in her face. A hefty sprinkle of glitter falls on the sheets, and Charlie winces.

“This looks very impressive,” says Kitten, glancing sideways at Charlie to check his reaction to the glitter, and stifling a smile. “Can I take a closer look?”

On closer inspection, the card is very large, and is a rather well-drawn and extremely glittery looking owl which looks to be a combination of about three different species. Its wings – which look suspiciously like the outline of Charlie’s hands – are wrapped around itself.

“Open it, open it,” says Henry, climbing onto the bed, and bouncing slightly, causing more glitter to be dislodged.

When Kitten carefully opens the wings, she finds another, smaller pair of hand-shaped wings underneath. “Yours?” she asks Henry, who nods vigorously. When she opens those, there is a ridiculously tiny pair of hands underneath. One has been colored blue, and the other pink.

“Little B,” says Henry. “We looked up online how small their hands would be. I drew them, and Dad cut them out. He said we should do one hand in each color since we don’t know whether Little b is a boy or a girl yet. And wait, there’s a message. Read the message!”

“Owl always love you,” Kitten reads, her voice trembling slightly. “From Charlie, Henry and Little B. Oh Henry, thank you! The owl, the hands, the sweet message. It’s perfect!”

She pulls Henry into a hug, which he tolerates for a moment or two before asking, “Can I go watch cartoons now?” with all the tact typical of an eight year-old boy.

“It was all Henry’s idea, of course,” says Charlie, once the young man in question has bounced out of the room. He tries to brush some of the glitter off the bed, and succeeds only in getting it stuck all over his hand. “I was but an unwitting accomplice to this madness.”

“Is that so?” asks Kitten, with a smile. She sets the card on the nightstand so she can see it, and curls against Charlie, who wraps an arm around her shoulder, and rests his other hand on her stomach. “You know, it reminds me of this book I read when I was little. About an owl who was searching for love. It was a really cute story.”

“Never heard of it,” says Charlie, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “But it sounds like a real hoot.”

“Oh god, not the owl puns.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” says Charlie, but somehow he finds himself lapsing into silence instead of releasing the string of dreadful jokes that are on the tip of his tongue. “Do you -” he begins, and then sighs, and runs his hand through his hair, inadvertently spreading multi-colored glitter quite liberally through it. He chews on the inside of his cheek before continuing. “Do you really like it?”

Is it good enough?

Am I trying hard enough?

Do you like me?

A gentle hand against his cheek brings him back to the present. “I don’t just like it, I love it,” Kitten reassures him. “And I love you very much, too. I know it’s a little rough at the moment with me working from home, but I’m still feeling very lucky. Who would have thought six months ago that we would be here? We’ve come so far, Charlie. I’m so proud of us. I’m so proud of you. Especially now you’re back in therapy again.”

Charlie holds her a little more tightly, and she tucks her head under his chin and settles her hand on his chest, over his heart, which is beating too quickly for his liking. “I’m trying, my love,” he says softly, taking slow, deep breaths to try to control the speed of his heart. “I never want to let you down again ...”

He closes his eyes, breathes in Kitten’s familiar, comforting scent, and tells himself that he’s just holding her, not clinging to her. I’m okay, he tells himself, over and over again. We’re okay.

I just have to try harder, and it will all be okay ...

#valentine's day #tw: bad parenting #tw: assault #tw: implied murder #B+C #direnightshade #tw: pregnancy #tw: angst #glitter should have a trigger warning

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seiin-translations · 4 years ago

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2.43 S1 Chapter 2.4 - Dracula and Princess Briar Rose

4. BEAUTIFUL WORLD

Previous || Index || Next

“Suemori-san.”

I was startled when my name was called. It was a calm voice that was humble but not excessively servile.

Kanno stood at a distance of about three meters from me. I was holding the net at the center line, and Kanno’s feet were above the attack line, so he was actually three-meters away. There was a clear difference in height now without even having to stand side by side to compare. I think it was a difference of six or seven centimeters. I didn’t think…it was past ten centimeters, but… When I was picturing myself next to Kanno in my head, even though he squirmed a bit uncomfortably, he didn’t apologize fearfully and meaninglessly like in our first year.

Suemori-san. I pondered the voice that called me. The last time he called me “Ibara-chan” was last September. And I feel like this was the first time he called me “Suemori-san”—we hadn’t called each other’s names once during these nine months. I wondered at what point during those blank nine months did I change from “Ibara-chan” to “Suemori-san” within Kanno.

“About the ballgame tournament, I received the list of who’s in each event for our club, so I have been told by my senpais to consult with Suemori-san and decide the allocation of duties, but…”

He’s still speaking with formal language mixed in, even to someone in his own grade, I thought, and while feeling something that was like nostalgia and sadness, I said, “It’s fine. If that’s the case, let’s do it on our way home today.”

I tried my best to respond in a natural manner, trying to be somewhat distant for the three meters of space Kanno had opened between us, but also not too blunt. I’ll be in your care, Kanno said, bending his long back and quickly bowing his head.

I watched his back as he left, him who was dressed unseasonably as ever with his long T-shirt and long pants, even though it was June. Kanno still participated in the girls’ team practice for half of the week, but ever since they witnessed his seizure on the outside court, no members made fun of him anymore. On the contrary, there was a mood of “Kanno-kun is working so hard even though it’s hard on his body,” and everyone became weirdly nice to him. Even now, when he ran over to the girl who was drawing the net strings to the side of the pole and said “I will do it” as he reached out his hand, he was politely refused with “It’s fine. Akiton should sit down” and ended up having nothing to do. Akiton was Kanno’s new nickname. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard Dracky at all lately.

From where I was looking, I thought that seemed pretty awkward, but anyways, my role as Kanno’s (unwilling) knight was no longer necessary.

I noticed that there was a girl looking at us from the entrance of the gym. It was Ayano, holding a basket lined with drink bottles.

“…I feel like I haven’t seen Ibara-chan and Akiton talking in a long time.”

“Oh, we’re just getting in touch about clerical work, for the ballgame tournament. I’m helping the boys this year.”

I felt like I was being glared at, so I unintentionally made an excuse. It wasn’t even an excuse, it really was nothing more than talk about work. “You don’t have to worry about that,” Ayano said, her lips tapering into a pout and she turned away.

“No, no, I’m not worrying about it at all…”

Nonetheless, my behavior towards Ayano was still mostly filled with a sense of guilt. Ayano might like Kanno…looking at her actions during that incident last year, even I, who was completely unfamiliar with matters of love, could tell that. I wondered if she confessed to him…I didn’t know what happened after that incident, since my conversations with Ayano had decreased considerably since then. I did the worst possible thing—disparaging a girl’s body in front of the boy she liked.

“It’s thanks to Ibara-chan that I lost weight, so I’m really not thinking anything right now…”

Ayano muttered in a slightly soft voice while still turning away.

That’s right. Ayano, who had been chubby, had slimmed down quite a lot since then and, taking advantage of her bust and hips which had been ample by nature, now attained well-balanced proportions. It seemed that my words triggered her to go on a diet. I was surprised at the unexpected willpower that lay sleeping within Ayano. That wasn’t at all. Maybe because her body was lighter, her play became agile and nimble, and she became a bench member in her second year. Since she didn’t have the stature, her spike power was inferior, but she was praised for her thorough and careful defense. What I hated so much and concluded that a strong player didn’t need, Ayano became stronger without throwing it away.

On the other hand, as for me—as evidenced by the fact that I was dispatched as a coordinator with the boys’ team for the ballgame tournament, I had been languishing without being selected for the bench. In middle school, if I worked hard, the results of my hard work came naturally to me, but since I became a high schooler, I kept getting betrayed by myself.

I loved volleyball. I wanted to be better than everyone else. I was willing to cut away anything that would hinder me from that. As a result, I ended up losing my friendship with Ayano, the reverence from Kanno, and my pride as a volleyball ace that should have been everything to me.

“Yeah…now I’ve become the most shameful and useless thing.”

I let out a weak self-deprecatory remark. “Ibara-chan…” Ayano turned her face towards me. The top of her nose was wrinkled, and she looked she was about to cry.

“Ibara-chan, you’re not going to quit the team, are you…?”

I didn’t answer her, only giving a forced smile.

I had actually received a club withdrawal form. The coordinator thing this time made it doubly sure for me, and I had made up my mind. I intended to write my name on it and hand it in after the ballgame tournament work was done, and leave volleyball. I intended to seriously quit it.

——Until the day before yesterday.

The day before yesterday, when I saw the boys’ practice on the outside court——.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

The ball that rose high up into the blue sky shone in the afternoon sunlight, burning my eyes. The one who took off from behind the attack line and rushed in like a bullet was that first-year, Kuroba Yuni.

That was a back-row attack? That jump distance was unbelievable. He jumped in with his whole body all the way to the net, as though he was attacking from the front row. His figure, arched in midair, seemed stationary, as though it was a photo. Such a long flight duration. His arm flexed like a spring that had stored up energy and returned it all at once, and he punched in the ball.

However, in the next moment there was a cloud of dust rising on Kuroba’s side of the court. “Daaah—” Kuroba groaned in frustration as he sank down and landed. Even I, who should have been calmly watching on the courtside, lost sight of the ball’s trajectory for an instant, but Aoki-senpai, who had jumped for a commit block, covered it with his long arms and shot down the bullet spike.

Amazing…just amazing. That was so cool. I couldn’t suppress the long-forgotten thumping of my heart. Each moment of that play was bold and so fast that I almost couldn’t follow it with my eyes. Just when I thought the ball had disappeared from my view, a dust cloud leapt up from the ground with a dynamic sound, like something exploding. I squinted many times at the dazzling aerial battle that unfolded while causing grains of light to burst into the air.

For me, the most beautiful sport on Earth was there.

There was a world that I couldn’t stop longing for, so much that it was painful.

For the first time since I reaped what I sow and lost many things, I thought that I did love volleyball after all, and I didn’t want to quit. Perhaps now, I could say this with the purest feelings I had since I met this sport.

I loved volleyball.

***

It took twenty-five minutes riding on a local line that was only composed of two cars to go from Nanafu to Monshiro. Bench seats against the windows were only placed on both sides of each door, and the rest were box seats with seats for two facing each other. Kanno and I occupied one of those seats, and we sat shallowly on them with our knees facing each other.

“…Even assuming we can manage with the staff for the first and second games, the problem starts from the third game and after. When Team C’s match starts, the team members will pack the court, and we’ll have to get the members who went out to basketball and futsal back immediately…”

“I think we’ll definitely not have enough staff at some point.”

“We’ll have to adjust the games so we’ll have enough. We’ll move the fourth game of Team E versus Team F over here, and the sixth game with Team D versus Team F…”

“Oda-senpai is in Team F, so I think it’ll work out well.”

“Oh, I see.”

While we were humming and hawing, at a loss, the two of us wrote on both sides of the notebook that was spread out on our laps. The notes were becoming unreadable due to the flood of arrows, boxes, strikethroughs, and desperate-looking messy lines.

The boys’ volleyball team had just eight members. From that, we would send out four people as staff members for each game, and there were those who took part in each event as competitors apart from that, so it would be impossible to run the boys’ volleyball division without the full rotation of eight people on a meticulously calculated time schedule. A lunch break was out of the question, and we might not even be able to give them a bathroom break. I mean, even if you rotate them at full speed, it was bound to break down somewhere, right?

Looking down at the messy notebook, I got a headache. Ah, I wanted to open the window and just throw it outside.

Around seven p.m., there was still a thin light outside the window. Come to think of it, summer solstice was approaching, so this was the time of the year with the longest daylight. After passing through the cities of Nanafu and Suzumu, the two-carriage train was moving a slow pace through the countryside wrapped in a warm, dim light. Since the rice planting was just finished in May, there were still only green seedlings planted in the fields. The water surface limitlessly reflected the distant mountains.

Every time the car swayed a little too much, I felt ticklish from the rubbing of my kneecap against Kanno’s kneecap beneath his spread-out notebook. I was tempted to retract my leg, but it felt somewhat like a waste of time to do so.

“We both got some irritating work forced on us, huh.”

Though I was grumbling, that was why we didn’t have to finish talking about work for the time being. However, Monshiro Station was already coming up soon. Usually, I slept for the twenty-five-minute ride when I could sit down, but each minute and second felt strangely precious today.

I curled my back and dropped my gaze to the notebook. Kanno also looked down at the same notebook from above my head. I had my toes standing up, and Kanno’s heels were on the floor. The fact that the notebook was kept level meant that the length below our knees was that much different. He just kept shooting up.

He’s got an awfully big lead on me, I thought once again, but strangely, the jealousy and hatred and uneasiness and chaotic feelings I had in my first year that made my heart hopelessly ugly, did not appear anymore. I wonder if I matured a step…that also felt wrong, and I was quite confused about myself.

“I don’t really think it’s irritating. I’m having fun right now.”

I heard a whisper above my head. My heart leapt at the word “fun,” but,

“I only play with the guys half of the time, and I can’t help much with setting up or cleanup, so…I’m glad I’m able to help out with this kind of work, because it makes me feel like I’m doing club activities with everyone else. The senpais didn’t say anything about that, but I think they knew that and gave me this job.”

“I guess you’re more comfortable in the boys’ team, huh?”

I didn’t mean that sarcastically, but it must have sounded like I was, because Kanno flinched and his face tightened. It seemed that he still hadn’t fixed his habit of peeking at my expression.

“The senpais on the boys’ team seem like good people. The girls’ team has a strange atmosphere, and you can’t always go all out, can you? I know you’re holding back in the intra-team games.”

“Well…if I go all out, I’ll blow the girls away.”

In the past, he might have put himself down and immediately apologized with a “I’m sorry,” but he pouted slightly as he plainly affirmed that. It was as if something like the core of self-confidence had taken root within Kanno, and I felt relieved, but at the same time, I felt somewhat sad for some reason.

Even before I realized it, Kanno himself must have been aware that he was starting to outstrip the girls in terms of strength and was out of place among them. And that wasn’t something that could be obtained “without much effort, just by the good luck of being born a boy,” like I had accused him of before.

I happened to see Kanno in his training wear in my neighborhood last year on an early autumn night. He was jogging and entered the park near the middle school, and unconsciously concealing my presence, I watched him do strength training on the bars and seesaw until the end.

Kanno somewhat looked like a normal athletic boy during the night, not wearing his hood completely over his head and frightened by the threat of the sun like he was during the day. It was then that I learned about the side of Kanno who worked harder than others because of his physical disability. No, I was supposed to know that a long time ago. He was the target of unreasonable teasing, and there was no reason for him to go out of his way to stay in the girls’ team to the point of feeling uncomfortable, but he worked harder than anyone even in basic training that was nothing but painful, and never missed a day of practice.

Because, like me, he loved volleyball—he told me that I was the one who taught him the fun of volleyball. Maybe that was the only thing I could be proud of.

He was probably still training at night on his own. He looked stronger, with another faint layer of muscle on his neck and arms. The nails on his fingers gripping his mechanical pencil were deeply trimmed. His fingertips were a bit chapped, but it was an indoor sport, so the underside of his nails wouldn’t be darkened with dirt. His protruding joints was due to the repeated spraining of his fingers. His long fingers were for catching the ball and accurately handling it, and his large palms were for powerfully driving in spikes. The hands that I thought were beautiful were characteristic of male volleyball players.

Kanno had become independent of the “shadows” that had been clinging to my back and only stirred up my frustration and impatience, and after taking some distance and time where I was able to calm down, I was feeling a bit nervous right now, coming in contact with him like this again.

I knew what I was saying was too convenient at this point. There was no way the selfishness of trying to get back something you pushed away but wanted later could be allowed unchallenged. You had to take responsibility for what you have done.

We were approaching Monshiro Station. I closed the notebook and put it in my bag.

“Aaah, we didn’t finish it. Let’s do it tomorrow.”

I secretly cherished the feeling of our kneecaps brushing up against each other, but I quickly stood up and carried my schoolbag and enamel bag with me. It was a one-man operation train, so if you were too slow, it was easy to miss your stop.

“…Kanno?”

Right when I stepped into the aisle, I looked back suspiciously. Kanno hadn’t even attempted to stand up, his behind still stuck to his seat.

“I’m riding to the next station, don’t worry. I can’t walk you home, but be careful.”

“Hah? Why?”

“Um…well…I can’t get up. My knees have no strength…”

“Huh…what’s that about, did you get hurt? You want me to escort you home?”

Worried, I brought my face closer. “N-no, you’re mistaken,” Kanno pulled down the hood of his hoodie and turned his face to the window.

“When I was talking to Iba-Suemori-san today, I was actually really nervous… I summoned up all of my strength to call out to you, and once I did, I surprisingly felt like I could talk to you normally as a friend, so I was so relieved that my muscles went limp…Oh, I know that I already got rejected, so I’m really not thinking about anything more than that now, but it’s hard not being able to talk to each other at all during practice…”

Kanno’s pale face, hidden by the hood, turned red like the old days, and he talked quickly like he was feeling restless. While I was standing stock-still in the middle of the aisle, Monshiro Station’s platform slowly slid into the train window. The scenery stopped along with the vibration of being pulled sideways, and there was the sound of the doors whooshing open. There weren’t a lot of passengers, but some still passed by here and there. No new passengers got on from the platform. The departure bell immediately started ringing. “You have to get off,” Kanno urged, his face still hidden.

My toes hesitated for an instant over whether to go or not, but ultimately I placed my bags on the seats again and sat back down in front of Kanno.

“Wait, Iba…Suemori-san?”

Kanno raised his panicked face.

“It’s perfect. We still haven’t finished the arrangements, so let’s just do it now.”

“Yes, but…”

“And it’s a bit fun to go all the way to the final stop and loop back, so how about it?”

I spread the notebook on top of our laps without giving Kanno a chance to object. Looking like he found it hard to accept, Kanno chewed on the tip of his lip, but…

“Thank you…”

In the end, he gave in and said in a limp voice.

I was slightly discouraged to find out that Kanno had already finished drawing a line between us within him, but I was glad he said it clearly. I shouldn’t be forgiven by Kanno, and I didn’t want to be forgiven by him. I was sure that I would live with this regret for the rest of my life.

The bell stopped ringing, and the train started to move. The view of the platform fell out of sight.

I wasn’t saying to whom, but…if I had to say it, I made a promise with myself. When we got off this train and went our own ways home, I would put a lid on these feelings once and for all. So, just a little bit more. I was ready to carry a lifetime’s worth of regret, so wasn’t it okay for me to draw this out…for just a few more minutes?

***

“Um, it’s hard to say this, but…if we take this train to the end of the line, there are no more trains available to take us back…to Monshiro.”

Kanno brought that up when the curtain of night had completely fallen outside the window.

“What, why didn’t you say that earlier!? What’re we gonna do!”

“We can walk home or something. But it’ll be the middle of the night by the time we get there. I’m fine with nights so I don’t mind it at all. Suemori-san, I’ll carry you on my back if you’re tired.”

Considering that he said it was hard to say it, Kanno had a slightly happy expression on his face as he said that, and my resolve immediately wavered.

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#2.43: Seiin Koukou Danshi Volley-bu #2.43: seiin high school boys volleyball club #2.43 book 1 #2.43 translation

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libsterslobsters · 5 years ago

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Dazed and Confused

Description: Almost a month has past since Bucky and the reader met. Since then, they've had absolutely no contact or communication. What happens when someone decides to make the first move? More importantly: is this a date?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!enhanced! reader

(Reader can see shards of the future, understand all languages, and process information abnormally fast)

Warnings: Strong language, mostly fluff, mild angst, two idiots who could really benefit from a lesson in basic communication skills

Author's note: As per usual, the reader is unnamed, but when I'm writing, I refer to her as Violet. Also, Bucky Barnes is a poor lost puppy, and you can pry him from my cold, dead fingers before I'll let you hurt him.

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

The text comes when he’s ankle-deep in various pipes and tools (he could call the building’s super to fix the plumbing but with this great new thing called the internet, he figured it would be pretty simple to figure out why every time he takes a shower, the bathroom sink fills with sludge), and his hands are so full, he can’t check it. Besides, Bucky reasons with himself, it’s probably nothing. Nobody texts him unless it’s a wrong number or a telemarketer. In fact, at this point, he’s not even sure why he has a phone.

It takes a full hour to put everything back together (the youtube tutorials he watched made it all seem much simpler than it is), this time sans dead rat in the elbow fitting (he’s trying not to think too hard about that), and by that time, he’s nearly forgotten about the text. It’s only when he checks the time that he sees the alert on his phone. With a tap, he opens his messages, and as he reads the name attached to the latest one, he nearly drops the phone. It’s her.

He hasn’t seen the woman who has visions in nearly a month. Never expected to hear from her again, if he’s being honest. But there it is: a message with her listed as the contact. It’s not very long; only four words, actually. “Hey. Are you busy?”

He quickly types, “Why?” but realizes just as he’s about to hit “send” that it’s probably not the best response, all things considered (especially since he really, really wants to see her again… despite his better judgment). Alright, he needs to concentrate. Possibly, “That depends. What’ve you got in mind?” No. That’s too suggestive. Too flirty. Although he is flirting… sort of… maybe… he hasn’t figured that out yet. Finally, he decides to go with a simple, “No.” There. No way that can be misconstrued or make her uncomfortable (which is the last thing he wants to do). Unless she takes into account that it took him an hour to reply. Dammit. How do you even go about talking to a pretty girl these days? Is there a YouTube video on that?

Two minutes tick by. Then five. Then fifteen. He’s almost decided she’s not going to respond when his phone chirps again. “Sorry. Got caught up grading a paper.” This time, he’s fast on the draw. “That’s fine.” But not fast enough, because before he can hit send, another message appears. “This may be weird, but would you want to meet up? It’s okay if not. I just don’t know many people, so…” So…? That’s it? Is he supposed to wait for her to finish the thought or come up with a witty reply? How the hell does he do this?

Finally he comes up with another simple response. “When?” Great. He’s a monosyllabic wonder. It’s been a long time, and he can’t prove it (you know, because everyone who could bear witness to it is either ancient or dead) but he’s fairly certain he used to be better at this whole “talking” thing.

Less than thirty seconds pass by before there’s another message. “Now.” Now? Now! Okay, yeah, that’s fine. The shower’s fixed, so maybe he can hose off and change clothes fast enough that it won’t cause much of a delay. But he also hasn’t shaved in… when was the last time he shaved? At least he did laundry two days ago, so he has something clean- another ding. “Or, you know, whenever.” followed by… a yellow smiling face with a bead of sweat. What does that mean? Why is the face yellow? Once again, a ding. “What I meant is, I have this afternoon free. If you do too, that would work fine. No pressure.” No, he’s free pretty much for the foreseeable future. He should probably say something back sooner rather than later.

“Where?” No, that’s too short. “Where would you like to meet?” There. Better. Maybe. When did people stop talking on phones and only… texting? You used to be able to tell where a person stood because you could hear their voice. Now it’s all guesswork. God, he’s old. Definitely too old to be possibly thinking about her like-

“Wherever is fine. We could do a coffee shop again, or my apartment. Whatever’s most convenient for you.” Ball’s in his court. Um… he’d really rather not be out in public. For now, he’s safe (at least as far as he can tell), but it’s always a gamble, him betting against himself that his simple disguises will work, he won’t be recognized. That leaves… oh boy.

“Your place, if that’s alright.” That’s forward. Maybe too forward. She offered, but maybe that was just being polite? More importantly, is this a date? No. Can’t be. Possibly. Oh my god, what’s wrong with him?!

“Sure.” the words are followed by a string of numbers and a street name. “Just give me half an hour to make the place presentable.” Another yellow, sweaty smile. He really needs to look up what that means.

“Alright. See you then.” He presses another button and the screen goes black. Thirty minutes. What can he do in thirty minutes? As he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror, he makes a decision. Start with getting the sewage off his face.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“What the hell is the matter with me?” She mutters it to herself as, for the fourth time in ten minutes, she chances her clothes. “This is NOT a date. Not a date.” Just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl… she shakes her head. She needs to get a grip. Now. Because this is definitely not a date. Barnes might be many things, but at all interested in her THAT way is not one of them. How could he be? She’s… weird. And damaged. Not that he’s all there either, but the possibility of this being anything more than a potential friendship? Uh-uh. No way. She doesn’t need to see the future to know that much.

A knock on her front door makes her jump, immediately hating herself. Why is she nervous? There’s nothing strange about this. People meet up all the time to talk and eat… in one or the other’s apartment… after finding out they both have special abilities. Okay, all of this is pretty strange, especially since it’s her.

After taking one last glance in the mirror (and smoothing down her hair that’s sticking straight up, thanks to switching out her shirts so many times), she steps out of her bedroom and makes her way towards the door. Not a date, she mentally repeats to herself. No reason to be nervous. Not a date.Then why the hell is she shaking a little? She needs to get a grip. Now.

Taking a deep breath, she pulls the door open (as it so happens, just as the man on the other side raises his hand to knock again).

“Hey. You made it.” That sounded almost normal. Not like she’s quaking in her boots.

“I did.” He’s smiling, so she must not sound as awkward as she feels.

“Did you find the place okay?” Wow. She sounds like she’s reading from a script. A really boring script at that.

“Yeah. There’s this thing called GPS now, and…” He trails off. “You probably already know about that.” Great. Now they’re both fish out of water.

“I do. Super helpful.” It occurs to her that she’s just leaving him standing in the hallway, so she asks, “Would you like to come in?” Oh my god. Her brain. Where is it?

“Thanks.” He doesn’t make a move, and that’s when she realizes she’s still blocking the doorway. Dumb-ass. Trying not to seem awkward, she walks backwards, promptly running into her kitchen chair.

“Ouch.” Bucky winces, and she wishes the floor would open up and swallow her.

“Graceful as an elephant.” She murmurs it under her breath, but a snicker from the man behind her lets her know it’s been heard. Right. Super hearing.

“That should turn into a nice, purple bruise by tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah?” She calls it over her shoulder. “Do you see the future by any chance?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, grinning. He has a nice smile. No, she needs to stop thinking like that. Right now. “I’ve just had a lot of experience running into things.”

They’ve gone so far into the room that they’ve walked straight past the tiny kitchen into the living room. She wasn’t really intending to jump straight into, “Why don’t we sit on the couch, which happens to barely be big enough for two people”, but there’s no way to work, “Let’s retrace our steps into the kitchen” into conversation smoothly, so she takes a seat, scooting as far to one side as she can.

“I thought super soldiers were supposed to be agile.” Thank god, he’s sitting too.

“They are, but for around twenty-eight years before that, I was as clumsy as the next person.” Immediately, he freezes. “Not that you’re clumsy-” So maybe she’s not the only one out of practice in the fine art of making friends.

“No, you had it right. I am.” He still looks a little unsure so, ignoring the little voice in her head screaming, “Don’t do it! You’re coming on too strong!” she leans towards him. “Actually, that new bruise is the latest of at least five others I currently have, and I can’t remember how I got any of them.” Does that make her sound weird? But no, he seems to be rolling with it.

“Haven’t you ever heard of looking where you’re going?” She goes out on a limb, assuming he’s joking.

“I’ve heard of the concept, but I’m usually too busy looking ahead, so-”

“Fair point.”

There’s a lull in the conversation. It goes on so long, that she blurts out, “Are you allergic to anything?” just to fill the silence.

“Huh?” He frowns. “Don’t think so. Why?” There actually is a reason, but now that she thinks about it, how would he be allergic to anything? If her frantic googling is correct, whatever Captain America is hopped up on took care of all physical weaknesses, so it’s unlikely Barnes will suffer anaphilactic shock due to something in her kitchen.

“I cooked, and…” She trails off. “… never mind.”

“Oh.” Now she really wishes her “power” had something to do with disappearing. “Thanks, um-” he clears his throat. “-was I supposed to bring anything? I thought about flowers, but-” he scratches the back of his neck, and if she had to guess, she’d say he’s nervous too.

“No, just yourself.”

“Great, because that’s all I brought.” Splendid. Neither of them know how to hold a conversation.

Finally, she decides to just come out and say it:

“I’m not good at this sort of thing.” He looks mildly confused, so she explains, “Talking to people. That is, unless I’m teaching them.”

“I don’t think I am either.” She starts to ask, “You don’t think?” but reels it in. Apparently, her face must show what she’s thinking, because he continues. “This is the most of it I’ve done in a long time.”

It’s completely inappropriate, but she laughs.

“Same for me. Hiding out to avoid capture doesn’t really leave many opportunities to practice your social skills, does it?”

He chuckles.

“Not unless I’m doing it wrong.”

It may be a mistake, but she decides to make a suggestion.

“You know, I think I heard from someone that there’s this really great solution when two people are in a room together and are out of practice holding a conversation.”

“What’s that?” At least he doesn’t seem offended.

“Watching a movie.”

“Huh.” He nods. “That was the go-to when the cat’s got your tongue back in my day too.” Good, so it’s not a foreign concept. “I’m afraid I don’t know of any theaters around here though, or even what’s playing.”

“Not a problem.” As she says it, she powers up her laptop “Any preferences? They’ve got pretty much anything if you know where to look.”

He thinks for a minute, then asks, “Fantasia? Do you think they have that?” It’s an unexpected request; out of all things, the ex-soldier wants to see a Disney movie.

“I’m sure they do. Give me a second.” Luckily, it’s on the first service she tries.

As the opening credits play, she struggles not to laugh at how wide his eyes go.

“How did you-”

“It’s on Netflix.” Nothing. He doesn’t know what that is. “It’s a website. I just typed in what I wanted to find, and there it is.”

The only sound for a few minutes is the swelling music coming from the speakers, then finally, Bucky murmurs,

“I don’t think I’ve been using the internet to it’s full potential.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

“Really?” Somehow, over the course of the evening, they’ve stopped sitting stiffly next to each other and watching their words. Now she’s turned towards him, a plate balanced on her knees, both of them completely ignoring the movie playing in the background. “A rat in your pipes? Are you serious?”

He nods.

“Afraid so.”

“How the hell did it even get in there?”

“Beats me. I didn’t ask it.”

She’s got a great laugh, Bucky thinks to himself. It’s the kind of laugh that makes you want to give into the giggles too.

“That’s probably for the best. From the sound of things, it wasn’t in any condition to answer your questions.”

He’s about to shoot back a reply, but then he remembers.

“That reminds me-” Careful not to elbow her (this sofa is barely a sofa; he’s not complaining though, because now that the ice has been broken, it’s actually kind of nice being close to another person again), he digs his phone out of his pocket and pulls up her texts from earlier. “-what does this yellow face mean?”

She frowns and leans towards him (she smells like cinnamon, maybe cloves… it’s not weird that he’s noticed that, right?).

“Oh.” Again, that laugh, but quieter this time. “It basically means, ‘I’m second guessing what I just said and I hope it didn’t come off the wrong way.’” That makes sense, given the context, but he still has another question.

“But why is the face yellow?”

Her brow furrows slightly as she thinks.

“You know, I’m really not sure. That’s just how most emojis look.”

“Emojis?”

“May I?” She indicates his phone.

“Sure.”

With a brief tap to the screen, a full page of yellow faces (amongst other odd symbols) appears.

“These are emojis. They sort of add interest to a text.”

“Huh.” Taking back the offered phone, he studies the symbols. “That would’ve been useful to have when we sent telegrams.” As soon as he says it, he realizes how he sounds. “I just dated myself, didn’t I?”

She smirks.

“Just a little, but don’t worry. It’s charming.”

He places a smile on his face and laughs lightly, but on the inside, he’s still trying to figure out whether or not this is a date. Is she, against all odds, actually interested in him, or is she just being kind? Two hours later when the clock strikes nine, he’s still not sure.

“Well, I hate to kick you out, Bucky, but I have a student coming by tomorrow at seven a.m., so I need to get to bed.” Has he overstayed his welcome? But no, she doesn’t look offended.

“Sure. No problem.” He stands and, without thinking, offers her his hand to pull her up, which she takes. How long has it been since he’s touched another person, or another person has touched him, like that? A casual gesture that normal people with simple secrets share?

“Thanks for the meal, by the way.”

“Oh, no trouble.” She still hasn’t let go. “Did you want to take some leftovers with you?”

“No, that’s okay.” Yes, he really does want to (its much better than what he usually comes up with on his own) but if he had to venture a guess, she probably doesn’t have the funds to be giving away food willy-nilly.

“Alright.” She pulls her hand away, and immediately, he feels colder.

They walk single file towards the door (this apartment is too small for them both to pass through shoulder-to-shoulder), her right behind him. As he pulls open the door, he tells her,

“Thanks again for everything.”

She chuckles.

“Thank you for the conversation.”

He’s about to say something more (although he’s not sure what) when she wraps her arms around him in a hug. It takes a second for him to realize what’s happening, but then he returns the embrace.

It’s over far too quickly, and when she stands back, her cheeks are flushed.

“Be careful on your way home.”

“Will do. Have a good night.”

On the bus ride home, he plays over the events of the evening. He’s still uncertain as to whether or not it was a date. He feels like it was, but it’s been so long… time to consult the internet. As it turns out, there’s quite a few websites that offer opinions on the subject. He finds one that has a quiz attached and, calculating how much time it’ll take him to get home, decides to take it.

The questions are pretty generic, and he gets through them in under two minutes. Waiting for the result to load, however? He’s back in his apartment before he gets a solid answer on that. There’s a graph showing how they measure each factor, but the final result is stands at, “You’ve been on a date- likelihood, 99%.” Huh. First time in seventy years. Maybe he’ll give the whole “texting” thing another go.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Morning dawns far too early for her liking, and with it, her memories of last night return. It was going okay. Really it was. Until she hugged him, that is. Oh my god. Why couldn’t she show some common sense for once? Friends don’t hug goodbye, especially not, “I’m just getting to know you” friends. She’s never going to hear from him again because she came on too strong, and now he really doesn’t want to have the, “I’m not attracted to you” conversation.

As she makes a cup of tea, a scene plays out before her eyes. The phone dings with a text alert under the name “Barnes.” She doesn’t realize it’s a vision until that exact thing happens ten seconds later. “Wow. So helpful. Really.” She mutters to herself. It’s almost as useful as someone yelling “Duck!” just as you get hit in the head.

She really shouldn’t read the message. She has a job to do, a student to teach, and if she’s distracted during their lesson, she’ll feel terrible. But, another “ding” sounds and curiousity gets the better of her.

The first text is simple: “Good morning” followed by… she has to choke back a laugh… several various smiley faces. Guess he’s decided to give emojis a go. “Hope your class goes well today.” Shaking her head, she scrolls down to the next message. “Last night was fun. Would you want to do it again sometime?”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” She whispers as her fingertips make contact with the keyboard. Maybe he didn’t take it as her trying to make something happen between them that never will. Or maybe he’s just been away from normal human interraction for so long, he’s accepting whatever she throws at him simply so he’ll have a friend. Either way, she likes him and would like to know him better, and if that means swallowing down the silly crush that’s starting to develop, she can do that.

“Good morning. That sounds great.” She types back, then puts her phone on silent. Certain areas of her life may be changing, but for now- a knock sounds on her door- class is in session.

#marvel #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #the winter soldier #avengers #captain america

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cudan2 · 5 years ago

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Starbucks and Skin Grafts

Spring Break Shadowing Part 2

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Word Count: 2,206

Summary: You’re starting your second day of shadowing with Dr. Cullen and get to learn more about him.

A/N: I underestimated the amount of research I’d have to do for this series woops. I’m pre-dent and not pre-med, so if anyone here is actually a doctor or a med student or even knows more about medicine than I do, feel free to tell me what details I should change! (I really did try my best though, but it’s turning out to be more Grey’s Anatomy-esque)

Anyways, this is #4 on my headcanon list.

Masterlist

XXX

When the train stops at the 168th Street Station, you make your first task of the day to find Doctor Cullen. The campus is growing to be familiar territory, but it’s still massive and you find yourself getting lost on the main surgical floor despite already getting directions from a receptionist. Your frustration begin growing as you turn another corner and realize you’re still as lost as before.

“Just the person I’ve been looking for!” a familiar voice calls out. You turn to look over your shoulder and find the doctor you’d spent the last fifteen minutes searching for. He’s wearing a white coat and lacking the scrub cap from the previous day. So he’s blonde, you notice, not a single strand out of place. You take several steps towards him to meet him halfway.

“Good morning, Doctor Cullen. I’m sorry for not meeting with you earlier. It might have been a little difficult to track you down,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Don’t worry, it can certainly take weeks to learn how to navigate this hospital. I’ve just finished doing my morning rounds, so there is about twenty minutes before I meet for a pre-op. Why don’t we grab some coffee and get to know each other a bit more?” Before you can even give an answer, your stomach growls loudly and you mentally berate yourself for not eating anything beforehand. “Perhaps a little less coffee and some more food would be beneficial for you instead,” Doctor Cullen chuckles.

By the time you reach the Starbucks on the first floor of the hospital, you’ve learned the basics about him and vice versa. He’s a plastic surgeon, this was his first year as an attending, he moved here about five months ago, actually started working here four months ago, and attended University of Washington in Seattle for both his undergrad and medical school.

Meanwhile, you currently attend school away from home at New York University, you’re in your third year of college, majoring in biology, minoring in psychology, and on track to graduate a semester early.

“Hey, Doc! The usual as always?” you hear as you make it to the front of the Starbucks line with Doctor Cullen.

“Good morning, Emily. Yes, the usual as always.”

“Sounds good! Will that be all?” Both the barista and the doctor look towards at you.

You splutter out your intended order and lean towards Doctor Cullen as Emily is writing your name on a cup. “You really don’t have to pay for the food and stuff. I mean, I brought cash so–”

“Think of it as compensation. I can’t imagine how many people actually enjoy being up this early in the morning, especially seeing how this is your spring break. Besides, I think you’ll find you need the energy to keep up with me today. I must warn you though, it won’t all lap appys and fun like with Doctor Stone.”

“I like a good challenge,” you smirk at him. He gazes back at you with a twinkle in his eyes and a soft smile and you can’t help the fact that your heart starts beating just a little faster.

Another barista call your names out and you’re suddenly reminded that this is the real world.

“Thanks for the breakfast,” you quickly say, breaking eye contact and grabbing the orders from the counter. Stop thinking about how pretty his eyes are, you tell yourself, even if they do look like pure amber. Doctor Cullen follows suite and goes to grab his grande-sized cup.

“Careful, wouldn’t want to burn the surgeon hands,” you notice the amount steam coming out of the lid and hand him a sleeve for the cup. When he accepts the sleeve from your outstretched arm, you see a peculiar expression on his face and hear a soft chuckle from him before he thanks you. It’s almost as though he knew something you didn’t.

The two of you walk back to his office so he can grab his notes on the patient. On the way there, he tells you more about his daily life as a plastic surgeon as you eat. He’s done so many different procedures that you can barely keep track of the list. There’s a lot less liposuctions and facelifts – those were for the cosmetic surgeons – and more reconstructions and repairs in his line of work.

“The patient you’re about to meet was in a car accident two years ago,” Doctor Cullen explains. “He received extensive burns to the face and neck, all of which have scarred over now. Our goal is to reduce the scarring and give him back some mobility.”

Before you can ask any questions, Doctor Cullen is already knocking on the patient’s door and entering. The door opens to reveal the patient sitting up in bed along and a woman standing beside him. The other two doctors in the room wore ceil blue scrubs – residents, you note, following Doctor Cullen into the room.

“There’s the man of the hour!” The woman exclaims.

“Mom!” The patient lets out an exasperated groan.

“What? As if you aren’t excited to see the handsome doctor either, Tyler!” You try your best not to laugh but can see the two residents smother their own smiles behind fake coughs. Doctor Cullen is the one to accept the indirect compliment and bids both the patient and his mother a hello.

“Tyler, I have a student shadowing me for the week, if you wouldn’t mind another pair of eyes in the room?”

“Yeah, I don’t mind. I’ve definitely experienced a whole lot worse,” Tyler responds.

“Perfect. Doctor Wang, would you present the case?”

One of the residents looks up from her charts and begins reciting the details as if it were second nature. “Tyler Sardella, age 24, scheduled for scar revision.”

“And what procedures will we be performing today?”

“We’ll be planting an autograft and doing a Z-plasty to minimize the appearance of scarring. Skin grafting will help give a bigger range of motion in the neck, accelerate the healing process, and prevent any future scarring.” Her words exude confidence and you hope to sound like that one day. Skin graft and Z-plasty... you’re not entirely familiar with the terms but store them in the back of your head. After all, you’re here to learn.

Doctor Cullen gives a nod of approval to Doctor Wang and turns back to Tyler. “Tyler, do you have any last-minute questions before we send you to the OR?”

“Nope! I’m so ready to turn my head 180 degrees again.”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you soon then.”

You give a quick nod to Tyler and his mother as both Doctor Cullen and you take your leave. The two residents reconvene with their attending several minutes later and exchange words before they both head off to prepare for the surgery.

You stand around awkwardly for a moment as Doctor Cullen looks over the charts. He suddenly calls your name out, eyes still scanning over his notes.

Your response is to stand up just slightly straighter as you say, “Yes?”

“What procedures will we be performing on Tyler?”

Well shit, you certainly weren’t expecting him to ask you that.

“Um, you’re planting a skin graft, an autograft to be more specific, and then doing a Z-plasty.” You’re unsure and your voice shows it. Of course you could regurgitate words, but it’s hard to explain any further when you didn’t know the meanings to those words.

Doctor Cullen looks up from his charts with that twinkle in his eyes again and a smirk playing on his lips. “Correct!” he exclaims and laughs when he sees the petrified expression you’re wearing from being caught off guard. “Y/N, I did warn you it wasn’t going to be easy. However, I may have failed to mention it was going to be me making your experience here more difficult.”

“Why though?”

“What can I say? I like to keep my students on their toes. It keeps things interesting.”

You huffed and followed him to the OR. Challenge accepted.

Scrubbed – check, PPE – check, scrub cap – well, that was for Doctor Cullen, but check. He’s still scrubbing when you hear him.

“Are you sure you want to be in there? It’s going to take approximately three hours.”

“You told me that,” you remind him. “And I told you that I like a challenge.”

“Alright, but please let me know if you feel any fatigue. I can ask one of the nurses to bring in a chair or you can step out for some air–”

“I will be fine,” you insist. “I sit all day in class, standing for three hours will be a good change of pace.” The concern etched into his face is almost endearing, but really, you’re going to be fine.

Everything and everyone is prepped and ready to go by the time you two enter the OR. You make sure to stand in an area that gives you a perfect view of the surgery but would not get in the way of anyone else. Doctor Cullen has his loupes on and you start feeling the high that comes with observing any sort of surgical procedure. It’s not every day that a mere undergrad like you can witness this kind of stuff.

Two hours later, you are still engrossed in the surgery. There’s 80s music playing in the background at the request of the two residents from earlier, who are now chatting away. About fifteen minutes in, Doctor Cullen had properly introduced you to his residents, Lily Wang and Jaime Montes.

Doctor Stone was great and all, but there is something about the blonde doctor that really makes him stand out as a surgeon to you. He’s able to cut and suture whilst explaining the entire procedure to you. He makes all of this seem so... effortless. Although Lily and Jaime are working as much as Doctor Cullen, it’s clear who the leader in the room is.

“You said you went to University of Washington for your undergrad and med school. What made you decide to work here instead of staying in Seattle?” you ask Doctor Cullen suddenly. The conversations around you die down. It seems you aren’t the only one curious about the surgeon.

“I suppose it felt like the right decision at the time.” He glances hesitantly at you from the head of the table before looking back to his work. You can tell there’s more to the story. “I previously worked in a hospital in a small town called Forks.”

“Forks? As in the thing you eat with?” Jaime asks and everyone around you laughs.

“Yes, Forks. It had less than 4,000 inhabitants, so you can imagine the lack of cases like these. The other residents would have gone crazy. It was peaceful for some time but I was ready to move on. It’s a silly notion now that I say it out loud, but I wanted to make an impact on the people I treated.”

“You weren’t making a difference in Forks,” you say. It isn’t a question, but a statement.

“Exactly. One of my deciding factors in working for Columbia was its resources and size. Here, I could save more people to the best of my ability with the most advance resources available.”

Once the surgery reaches its conclusion, you go scrub out with Doctor Cullen as everyone else stays to finish up. You unceremoniously flop onto the bench outside the OR, propriety be damned. Your feet are sore and you wish you could be wearing scrubs and sneakers instead of business-casual clothing.

A water bottle enters your peripheral and you look up to the person handing it to you. Doctor Cullen’s scrub cap is gone once again and his blonde hair is slightly astray.

“Thanks,” is all you can say as you grab the bottle and take a nice, long drink from it. “Nice hair by the way.” Doctor Cullen has the audacity to look down rather bashfully and runs a hand through his hair. Great, now he looks even more attractive.

“You survived,” he says.

“I did.”

“I’m impressed.”

You let out a snort.

“You’re impressed? You, Lily, and Jaime were the ones doing everything. I literally stood there for three and a half hours! I should be the one that’s impressed.”

“You showed resilience. I have a feeling most students your age would have given in for a chair at least.”

“Yeah, I did tell you I like a challenge,” you point out, even if you did feel like never standing again.

“You also asked very good questions, Y/N. Don’t sell yourself short. You have a lot of potential in this field whether you think it or not. Now go get some lunch, you deserve a break.” He sticks out a hand and you grab it to get up. Damn, his hands are cold. “I have some paperwork to file, so I’ll catch up with you later.”

“I’ll see you then,” you say and begin walking in the direction of the cafeteria.

“Y/N!” you hear him halfway down the hallway and turn to look over your shoulder. “How are we treating the donor site wound?”

You decide to keep walking.

#carlisle cullen #carlisle cullen x reader #twilight fanfiction #twilight renaissance #carlisle cullen imagine #twilight imagines #twilight reboot #twilight revival #twilight saga #twilight #I also never intended on this part to be so long #it just happened #i know nothing about plastic surgery #please do not attack me on my lack of medical knowledge #i only know teeth #doctor daddy cullen #twilight fanfic

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juliandev0rak · 5 years ago

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Education & Occupation 🏛📚

Four: Education – did they go to a private school, were taught at home, or taught themselves? Did they have a favorite subject?

combined with

Seven: Occupation – did they work/have a job or trade of any kind? Did they have a mentor figure there?

echoes of the past event

@arcana-echoes

Freya Viano, she/ her

Bérault University, Port Tremaire

14 years before the events of The Arcana, Freya is 16, ends at age 22

Words: 2240

Warnings: young naive blonde becomes vengeful blonde on a mission of destruction

read about freya’s arrival in the city here

Note: I have no idea if this educational system has any basis in history, but at this fantasy school a professor can offer to sponsor a student, agreeing to take them on as a student for no cost. These students have higher expectations placed on them because their success at the school is seen as a reflection of their sponsor professor. It’s a rudimentary scholarship system that’s based entirely on either merit or recognizable family name.

When Freya arrived at Bérault University in Port Tremaire she thought it would be easy to convince them to let her in. She'd basically run away from home for a chance to study in a big city and make something of herself, but she soon found herself alone, penniless, and in over her head.

She’d heard from passing merchants that the school admitted students even when they couldn’t pay the tuition, but it turns out they only did that for students who already had a faculty sponsor. She had knocked on every professor’s office door, trying to find someone who would take a chance on her. It always went the same way, they asked her “Who is your family?” and “What are your talents?” and as Freya has neither, she has no hope of admittance.

During her third week in Port Tremaire she’s nearly given up. Just as she had begun to fear that she’d have to return to Vesuvia empty handed due to a lack of funds she’d accepted a job at the Inn she’s been staying at. It doesn’t pay much, but it’s enough to let her stay while she tries to find someone to sponsor her.

She’s been through every department; mathematics, philosophy, literature, and so on, but none of the professors are willing to vouch for someone with no background and no prospects. The only professor she’s yet to ask specializes in architecture, and although she hasn’t thought much about studying architecture before, Freya doesn’t have much of a choice. If this professor won’t vouch for her, she’ll have to find another university or somehow raise enough money to afford the tuition.

Freya’s walk to the university is fraught with tension as she tries to remind herself why she’s doing this. Despite every door that closes in her face, she is determined to get in to this school. The connections and reputation she would be able to gain at Bérault University are her only chance to make a name for herself as a young person alone in the world. She might not have a fancy family name or a coveted apprenticeship, but she can work her way up if she only gets the chance.

She stands outside the office door for a minute as she tries to collect her thoughts. Finally, she tells herself to stop delaying, steels herself, and knocks. She hopes that this professor will at least politely decline instead of laughing in her face like others had done.

“Come in!” A voice calls, so she does. Sitting behind a large wooden desk is a regal looking middle aged woman with greying dark hair and jewel rimmed glasses. She looks intimidating, put together, and like everything Freya wants to be someday.

“Hello M’am.” Freya says politely as she walks in, unsure whether she should sit or stand. “My name is Freya Viano.”

“Well, Freya Viano, my name is Madame Gérard. Would you like to take a seat and tell me why you’ve come to see me?” The woman says, gesturing to the comfortable looking chair in front of her. Freya tentatively sits down, smoothing her dress down and trying to seem more confident than she is.

“I’m trying to find a professor to sponsor me, you see. I really want to attend this school but it seems all of the other teachers are… already occupied.” Freya says, trying to put her situation into the most tactful words as possible.

“I see.” Madame Gérard clasps her hands together. “Do you have an interest in architecture, Freya? You do understand, I’m sure, that if a professor is to sponsor you, you are then expected to follow their course of study?”

“Yes, I understand that Madame. I do have an interest in architecture. Though, I must confess, little practical knowledge.” She replies, forcing herself to meet Madame Gérard’s steady eye contact. Her facial expression is inscrutable and Freya tries not to hold her breath as she waits for some sort of response.

“May I ask why you want to study at this University? Surely a girl your age would be better suited by a home education.” Gérard asks, eyes shrewdly watching Freya struggle to come up with a response.

“I want to succeed in life, and I need an education to do that.” Freya smiles, it’s a bit wobbly, but she thinks her answer will suffice.

“Hmm, and you think attending a university will automatically make you successful?” Gérard frowns. “What do you intend to do after your studies?” Suddenly Freya is unsure, she hasn’t really thought that far ahead.

“Well I suppose if I study architecture, I’ll become an architect.” She responds, trying not to fidget under Gérard’s stare.

“Perhaps, but what if you have no talent for it? What if you’re unable to find clients? Do you have any other talents to fall back on?” Gérard questions. Her tone is not unkind, but it’s a dose of reality Freya’s been trying to avoid since leaving home.

“Well.. what if I do have talent for it?” Freya counters, she’s not giving up this easily.

“It is quite a risk to take on a student who only might have talent.” Madame Gérard says and Freya’s heart drops, it seems another rejection is imminent. “However, we were all unmolded clay once, and I believe myself to be an expert potter, if you’ll forgive the use of metaphor.”

“Does this mean-” Freya says excitedly, but is stilled by the raise of Madame Gérard’s hand.

“It means that I am willing to give you a chance.” She states firmly. “You’ll need to prove that you are up to the task.”

“Of course, Madame. I promise you won’t regret this!” Freya grins, nearly rising from her chair in excitement.

“That is a very presumptuous promise to make, Miss Viano. Do not make promises you cannot know that you will keep.” Gérard says, turning around to search through a drawer of files. “We shall see what you are capable of in time.”

Freya leaves ecstatic, she’s finally gotten her chance. She’s been so certain that if she can only manage to get a formal education she’ll be a success. However, she soon finds it’s much harder work than she had assumed.

She has daily classes to attend, usually small seminars with Madame Gérard and the five other architecture students, as well as her job at the Inn to attend to. While she doesn’t have school expenses, she still needs to be able to afford food and shelter. The long hours at the Inn coupled with the sheer amount of coursework she’s been assigned leaves her little time to sleep.

She had expected architecture to be easy, it’s just buildings, how hard could it be? The reality is that instead of simply looking at silly buildings all day, she’s studying mathematics, physics, history, art and technical skills, ancient languages, and developing a trained eye for aesthetics. She spends every night after classes and work studying to keep up. She’s behind the rest of her class by far, and the rest of the students come from more privileged backgrounds and clearly have more time to focus on their studies.

Freya always arrives at her morning classes late, tired, and usually quite behind on her work, but she’s still determined to succeed. Gérard isn’t a harsh teacher, but she isn’t afraid to warn Freya that every missed drafting assignment or slip up in verb conjugation could lead to her expulsion if she doesn’t show an improvement. She won’t let herself lose this chance.

In the beginning, she hates architecture, the harder it gets to remember column types and drafting techniques the more she curses herself for ever moving to Port Tremaire. A few months in, her attitude changes. She finds herself taking the long way home so she can pass by the ornate city hall building, or spending her lunch breaks sketching roof designs. Soon enough she does begin to improve, she still shows up tired and late but she can understand her lectures and discussions with her classmates, she begins to develop her own opinions and taste.

The work never gets easier, but Freya starts to enjoy it more and that makes all the difference. By the end of her first year of studies she passes her course review and Madame Gérard agrees to allow her to advance to the next year. It’s the sort of achievement Freya wishes she could write home about.

She’d vowed not to need her family anymore and she can’t bring herself to start a letter, as much as she knows that her younger sister (and possibly her mother) are worried sick. Aside from the occasional letter to her aunt, Freya doesn’t talk to her family back in Vesuvia, and she tries not to think about them if she can help it.

It’s not long before she gets her first big break. Madame Gérard is commissioned to redesign a home in the wealthy area of town and she chooses Freya as her assistant. Gérard offers to let Freya submit a design and the homeowners end up selecting it. Word of mouth spreads and before she’s even finished her formal course of study Freya’s architectural designs are in demand.

Her style is modern, opulent, and personalized. She seems to have an eye for what a person will like without needing to ask, and her charming confidence (however feigned) makes business deals easy. Freya is able to quit her job at the Inn and move into a place of her own, she finally feels like she’s succeeding.

When she finishes her studies four years later Madame Gérard offers her a full time place in her architecture firm and Freya accepts. Her life in the city is great, and things seem to be going her way. She begins to live more lavishly, buying fancy new clothes and moving into a large home in the nicest city district.

She even starts dating someone, a man named Enzo who she’d had a few classes with during university. She doesn’t give him a second thought at first, but he’s persistent, sending flowers to her house, inviting her to operas and horse races and lavish parties. He’s handsome, charming, and from a wealthy family, it’s the kind of attention she’s always dreamed of having.

Rather than being a distraction from her work, Enzo seems to support her, even occasionally traveling with her when she takes on commissions in other cities. He seems perfect and Freya begins to expect a marriage proposal any day. He’s never invited her to meet his family, but she assumes it’s because he’s simply a private person. It only takes a few months for him to show his true colors. She opens the newspaper one morning to find his name in the headlines, announcing his engagement to a woman from the nobility.

When she confronts him about it he explains that he’d always been planning to marry this woman, he’d never viewed Freya as anything more than a fling. After all, Freya has no family name, no reputation aside from her work, he couldn’t possibly marry her. She leaves his house heartbroken. but it’s not the only bad news she receives that day.

Freya arrives at the architecture firm a few hours later, eyes still red from crying but determined to work through the pain. Madame Gérard calls her in for a meeting and Freya is blindsided when she’s asked to leave the firm for “stealing clients”. She’s accused of doing too much under her own name rather than the firm’s.

She later finds out that Gérard had grown jealous of her student’s success, which was the real reason for her dismissal. It feels like she’s been fired for being too successful, which doesn’t make any sense to her. She’d had everything she wanted and had it taken away in the course of one day.

After these revelations she’s forced to reevaluate. The people she’d trusted had only wanted her until they’d gotten what they needed, then thrown her away like garbage. It’s a hard reality for her to cope with, and when she finally returns home at the end of the day she’s nearly ready to stop trying, maybe she should just give up and move back home.

Her house feels so empty, the rooms echoing as she walks. The marble floors she’d admired just this morning seem like nothing but cold, useless stone. She lets herself feel sad for a few hours, but eventually her sense of self preservation kicks in and before she knows it, she starts thinking of revenge.

The next morning she gets a letter in the mail from her sister, it says that her aunt is sick and Freya needs to return to Vesuvia as soon as possible. It’s an alarming letter, especially after not hearing from her sister for six years. Though Freya has successfully distanced herself from her family over the last few years she still feels a sense of obligation.

She tells herself she’ll be on the first carriage over, as soon as she finishes her business in Port Tremaire. If Enzo doesn’t want her, she’ll make sure that no one will ever want him. If Madame Gérard feels threatened by her success, Freya will have to get rid of the competition to prove just how successful she can be.

They might not want her, but she’ll make sure that everyone else does.

#arcana eotp #freya viano #i wrote this while listening to nintendogs music which isn't relevant to anything but i thought i'd share lol #enzo pulled a warner huntington iii - if you know legally blonde then you know lol #this is her villain origin story sdfjhdsjd #welcome to the cutthroat world of architecture lol

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songfell-ut · 5 years ago

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Chapter 9 is done, urgh

This one was quite the exercise in rewriting All The Phrasing. Stoopid fortunes. I ended up splitting it off again. Here it is! Hi, @lostmypotatoes! Next one very soon!

Sans and Frisk did not have a slumber party that night.

No, once they returned from the festival and she finished telling Sans exactly what she thought of his behavior, Frisk sent him to his room, then went to the office and stayed there. Not on the couch: she sat down at her desk to make a few notes while the fortunes were still fresh in her mind. By the time she was done, it was after dawn, her hand was one solid cramp, she'd lost all feeling in her rear, and she had filled up five sheets of paper.

Regarding the child – the one from her nightmares – there wasn't much to write, just key phrases that she suspected would be more intelligible when she'd tracked down the man who spoke in hands. Would Sans have mentioned it if he knew some way in which he didn't belong here? It could simply be his stay in the castle, but it felt bigger than that. She'd had nightmares about that horrible child throughout her entire life, and it had never wanted her to do anything before; had it known she'd meet him, and would its "business" be finished if she killed him?

For now, it was all morbid conjecture. She'd put it aside until she could talk to Sans without wanting to pull his arm off and slap him with it.

So. If she didn't open the box, her life would be adequate. There was a lot to be said for adequacy. Her children would have wealthy, loving parents, and never suffer from hunger, loneliness, beatings—the kind of pain that was all behind her now, the same way a loaded wagon is behind the horse pulling it. Staying busy with her lessons in the strict, orderly convent and then her duties as High Priestess had kept Frisk going, preventing her from having to look over her shoulder. Would marrying Luke keep it that way?

She had gone years without really thinking of her life before St. Brigid's, except for fleeting apprehensions about having to explain the scars to her future husband. Why in God's name would she want to dig that up in the course of remembering something even worse?

By definition, she didn't know the exact contents of the rosewood box. She just knew that when she was about thirteen, one of her teachers had finally explained to Frisk why she couldn't recall anything between her tenth birthday and her second month at the convent: "We could do nothing with you when you first arrived. No food, no rest, just tears and 'Take me back, please' for weeks on end," Sister Clair had told her, almost accusingly. "Your father came to see you for himself, and he was so distraught that he gave the Mother Superior his blessing to do whatever she thought needful."

Frisk had always accepted that the sisters knew best; her father's influence had probably been a factor, but it wouldn't have pushed them to take such a drastic step if it hadn't been absolutely necessary. She herself had done her fair share of comforting frightened or homesick new arrivals, and no matter how distressed they were, none of them had had their memories removed.

She also had come to terms with her father returning home from his visit without her. Her first solid recollection at the convent was of the Mother Superior taking her aside to tell her exactly who her father was, ensuring she understood why he hadn't been a more direct part of her life and why she would be staying here from now on. Accustomed to receiving girls born out of wedlock, the Mother had emphasized how lucky Frisk was that her father had come forward – discreetly – to acknowledge her and pay for her education, and that he would ensure she had everything she needed from then on. Even as a child, Frisk had appreciated how superior the convent was to her prior circumstances, and agreed that she was fine at St. Brigid's.

The only mystery to Frisk was why she had initially been so desperate to leave. She couldn't have been crying for her father; she'd always been told that he was dead, and never thought to question it. Frisk had seen over and over again that mistreated children never wanted to leave their parents, no matter how awful they were, but her mother had only visited her every few months throughout her early life, and once Frisk realized that Mama was never going to keep her promise to take her with her, Frisk had grown to hate seeing her. She hadn't been attached to anyone at the group home where she'd stayed as a very little girl, and when she was old enough to work in the castle kitchens, her only goal had been to avoid being noticed. What had she wanted so badly?

Since Sans had arrived, she had been more and more tempted to try something stupid and just crack the orb or chip off a few figuratively bite-sized pieces. But that wasn't how the magic worked, was it? The sisters had been very specific on how to take the memories back if she so chose, and her fortune had also made it clear that this was an all-or-nothing proposition. She would fully open the box and reclaim the contents, or throw them away for good, no peeking allowed.

At that point, Frisk almost stopped writing and tossed her notes into the fireplace. What was she doing? Why wouldn't she choose a long life with a respectable husband and four children? True, her efforts to free monsters from slavery wouldn't work, but that didn't mean she'd be totally useless. Besides helping humans – always a full-time job – there was still plenty she could do for monsters in captivity, and she'd lay the groundwork for others to finish what she'd started. After centuries of hatred and mistrust, it made sense that humanity wasn't ready yet to accept monsters as equals; she couldn't change the entire world on her own, so—

Except that she could. She could change the world for the better if she worked hard enough to achieve her goal, which she knew in her bones to be humans and monsters living in peace. But how could her lost memories possibly be the one thing that made the difference? And if they were, how was she supposed to deal with that much pain, knowing it would also affect at least one other person?

...But what about the joy, the love, the power, also to be shared? What about the child she'd bear in time for next year's All Souls festival?

That was another worry: the ferryman had said "your husband" for the first future, but "your child's father" in the second. That didn't seem accidental. Frisk knew herself, and she had no idea what would induce her to conceive a child with someone she wouldn't or couldn't marry, no matter how attractive he was or how lonely she might be. With her own morals and her mother's example to go on, she'd sooner die than let a married man near her, and she'd kill him if she found out after the fact!

Surely the fortune-teller would've mentioned the child resulting from violence or coercion? Its wry tone had implied that the father would be unable to talk her out of going to the festival, not that she'd escape from his clutches, which also eliminated the possibility of one night with someone she'd never see again or a man who would die before the baby was born.

So, in summary, she would have little triumphs, large regrets, old age, a decent husband, money, kids, in-laws, and grandkids. Very simple.

...Granted, it...didn't sound quite like the life she'd always craved, with joy and love, real parents, a huge family, and monsters freed in her lifetime, not to mention a man she loved enough to have his illegitimate child...and maybe Frisk could see Luke assuring her with a straight face that he'd "take an interest in her happiness," and maybe it was already making her cringe. Maybe she was already wealthy enough to marry anyone she wanted. Maybe she intended to keep working hard enough that, when she thought it over, she found she would much rather have one child than divide her attention between four who could very well end up being raised by servants. Maybe all these things were true.

...What was she trying to say again?

Right. Maybe all these things were true. There was still no avoiding the fact that she'd be exchanging a life of peace and stability for every bit of the heartbreak that had nearly killed her as a child, and somehow also share it with someone else. Was she stupid enough to open the box anyway out of curiosity, like the woman in the fable?

A treacherous little voice whispered in reply: Are you selfish enough to keep monsters enslaved because you're afraid of being hurt?

Frisk shoved the papers into a drawer and eased out of her chair, shaking her hand vigorously as the sun peeped in through the high window. It'd be time for breakfast soon. She wouldn't take Sans to pieces; she'd let him sleep in, then have him experiment with the alfalfa mixtures while she napped, though they'd need fresh seedlings before he could really get started. The supplies she had already ordered should be arriving this afternoon, which would enable them to try even more—

Sans was not sleeping. Sans was sitting in the middle of the workroom floor with no clothes on. He was holding a book up over his head and squinting at the words as though he'd never seen letters before, and gave a very elongated "Heyyyy" when he heard the door open.

Frisk stopped dead. "Hey," she responded. "What are you doing, Sans?"

"Wheeee," the skeleton said, and demonstrated by falling onto his back. The book stayed up, and his legs fell every which way, one bumping into a chair pulled away from the worktable and the other almost hitting the bedroom door. "'s hot in here," he explained, pointing at the ceiling.

Frisk looked at the ceiling, then at the windows. They were all wide open, and the workroom was freezing. She had the completely irrational urge to cover her eyes, and compromised by turning her back and heading to the windows. "We're going to pretend that it's not hot in here," she said carefully. What on earth was wrong with him?

In the time it took for her to shut one window and place her hand on the latch, Sans had appeared inches away. One enormous phalange wobbled its way up to push her hand aside. "No, 's hot," he explained.

The priestess was equal parts annoyed and concerned now, especially when he teetered against the wall. "Sans, if I did not know better, I would say you were drunk. Have you been mixing things without telling me?" She eased away from him, just in case.

The skeleton seemed to take umbrage: his eyes lit up. "Ya don' know better. I am absolutely drunk!" Just as quickly, his sockets were blank. He peered at the tiny-looking book in his hand and turned it to her, tapping a random word. "How d'ya say this? It's human. How do you human. Please."

Frisk eased back a little more, trying not to look at his pelvis, which was far too close to her eye level. "That's the word 'the,' Sans. If that's not the one you mean, I will have to ask you to be more specific." Should she make a break for the bedroom, or just put up a barrier while she had the chance?

Sans laughed. "Damn, yer cute! Lessee." He dropped the book and continued trying to flip pages in midair. A moment later, he realized his mistake, scowled, and lifted the book on a wisp of red. "Hold on. 's tryin' ta get away." Even the magic had trouble staying steady, she noted uneasily.

Someone knocked on the double doors, and Frisk heaved a sigh of relief. "You can find the word while I answer that, all right?" She lifted a foot to step around him.

Unbelievably quick, Sans sat down, extended a hand, and caught her around the middle in a loose, ironclad grip. Across the workroom, the bar on the doors glowed red and lifted; the doors swung open. "There," said the boss monster, tugging her closer and frowning at the book. "Who's what y'want?"

It was Dr. Serif, who stopped on the threshold, raised an eyebrow as high as it would go, and closed the doors behind him. "Good morning?" he inquired.

"Hands," the skeleton replied, still searching the pages for that errant word.

The priestess was still trying to comprehend what was happening. Was this some kind of bizarre prank, or a distraction from talking about last night? The longer he held on, the less likely either possibility seemed—he was too calm and too comfortable, as if this was something he was doing simply because he wanted to do it.

Here they were, then. With Sans seated and her standing, the giant skeleton could fold his arm and hold Frisk against him like a child cuddling a teddy bear, fingers spread across her upper legs and torso, her shoulders resting on his clavicle. This wasn't quite as scary as the last time he'd grabbed her, but...

Frisk tested his grip and was unsurprised to find that, though his phalanges were angled not to dig into her, they were about as movable as solid rock. "We're having a very interesting morning," she said to Dr. Serif, and mouthed Help!

"I can see that," said the doctor, who gestured for her not to move, then came forward a few steps. Sans' head swiveled, eyes fully lit, and the royal sorcerer turned his next step into a half bow. "I am glad to hear that you had a good time at the festival last night, my lady. Rumors are brewing about a woman with a highly interesting fortune who was called 'Your Eminence,' but no one is willing to swear that it was you."

That sounded like one problem too many. "Good" was all she could think to say.

"I can't find it," complained Sans. He tossed the book out the window. "Gimme another one, pl's."

"You can have it later," Frisk said acidly. That was her old science textbook from the convent, with her notes and doodles in the margins!

"Sans," said the doctor, "where are your clothes?"

The skeleton blinked at him, sockets still wide orange. "Off," he said, as though the sorcerer was being stupid.

"Of course. How silly of me." Dr. Serif bowed vigorously, letting the motion carry him forward. "Tell me, what did you have to drink at the festival?"

"This asshole was comin' onta her." The skeleton's now-free hand patted Frisk very lightly on the head. Despite her irritation, the priestess couldn't help smiling. "I hit 'im with cider," said Sans. "Damn good cider. 'sat why those people were goin' at it, Frisk?" he asked curiously.

The priestess was no longer smiling. "Sans intervened on my behalf when a man wouldn't leave me alone," she explained to the straight-faced doctor. "We tried some apple cider—why can I still smell it on you, Sans? And yes, we saw a couple who couldn't wait until they found somewhere private. I have no idea what they'd been drinking, but it wasn't what we were having."

"Hmmm." Dr. Serif watched Sans, who was examining the back of Frisk's head, then produced a scroll from his robe pocket. "The monster Snowdrake has been confiscated from his owners, effective immediately. I've brought the paperwork for you to take official custody, my lady. He will be here once the captain of the guards has finished questioning him."

Sans started. Frisk tugged at the skeleton's enormous metacarpals. "Let me go, Sans, please."

Very reluctantly, his hand uncurled to let her wriggle free. Trust the doctor to be a step ahead of everyone, she thought as she accepted the scroll, unaware that Sans was staring fixedly at him. The priestess smoothed out the papers on the worktable and began skimming through it.

Sans turned around so that he stretch out on the floor lengthwise. The doctor wrinkled his nose at the colossal skeleton, then peered over Frisk's shoulder as she came to several blank lines for an address. "Where is that, my lady?" he asked as she began writing.

"It's a house I own on the edge of the city. I've been renting it out, but the current tenants have already moved for the winter, so I'm putting it down as Snowdrake's official residence."

"Well done." Dr. Serif glanced at Sans, then suddenly flicked his fingers across Frisk's back. "Forgive me, Your Eminence," he said as she jumped, "there was a spider. We'll have to have your rooms cleaned soon."

The High Priestess scratched her back, gave him a terse nod, and went back to the scroll, moving away from him.

Sans was on his feet. He said to Frisk, "'Scuse us, kitten," then grabbed the doctor and vanished.

She wondered why he was so upset, and why he'd teleported Dr. Serif just a few feet away into the office. Well, at least he'd let go of her without a fight. Should she check on him to be sure he wouldn't hurt the doctor?

After a moment, she shook her head. She'd have to let them hash it out. What was the worst that could happen?

The moment they reached the office, Gaster dropped his disguise, summoned six extra hands, and gripped the boss monster's arms before Sans could dismember him. "Easy, now," the older skeleton cautioned him. "Don't disrupt Her Eminence any more than you already have."

"Oh yeah? 'll disrupt yer fuckin'—"

Smack. "Hold still," the doctor rasped, and Sans jerked convulsively as a hand gripped the back of his skull. A moment later, the hand disappeared and left Sans with his eyes shut tight. "Can you think now, insofar as you are capable of it?" snapped Gaster.

Sans blinked at the hands grasping his arms. They disappeared, too, and Sans looked down at himself. "What." He twisted around to look at his backside. "The hell are my clothes? What'd ya do?"

"I sped up the metabolism of the ethanol molecules that were causing you to lose track of your clothing and treat the High Priestess like a toddler with his favorite toy. In short, you were drunk, and you no longer are. Would you care to tell me how much alcohol it took to inebriate someone your size so many hours after the fact, and how you did so without the lady knowing?"

Sans had gone red. "All I had last night was turkey an' cider!" he protested. "She wouldn't let me try anythin' else! She had the exact same stuff, 'n she didn't get plastered!"

The older skeleton regarded him with narrowed eyes, which was extremely creepy. It made Sans think of Frisk's first question, the one about the child from her nightmares—had Frisk been talking about him? If so, then how did he not belong here? Did the kid's unfinished business with him involve murder? Why?

Why should they beware the man who spoke in hands?

Gaster started to speak, and Sans cut him off: "Were you tryin' ta piss me off back there? Are ya after Frisk, or d'you just wanna screw with me? Whaddya want?"

"To help," the doctor said calmly.

Sans sat down with a mighty thmp. "Ta help. Of course. Why didn't I realize that already?" He tapped his phalanges on the carpet. "Who are you helpin', besides yerself?"

"That is a very large question." Gaster also sat down, on the edge of the desk. "My most immediate goal since Frisk became High Priestess has been to aid her in restoring peace between monsters and humans. The longer I have worked with her, the more I find that, frankly, I like her, and I would like her to be happy if possible." No sooner had the words left him than a hand sprang up in front of Sans, who was already fully aglow. The hand held up a finger long enough for Gaster to add, "Which is to say, I admire her caring heart, her singing voice, her magical prowess...her determination. Would you agree?"

Sans' eyes felt ready to burn clean through his skull. Frisk would get even more upset with him if her office was destroyed, so he tried to say something civil, or at least something okay, or something that wouldn't get him smacked again. But he couldn't.

The hand waggled again, then vanished. "Everything I say and do is for one ultimate purpose, my boy: to gather data. I can help no one if I have insufficient information. Take you, for example." The older skeleton folded an extra set of hands in the air over his lap, like a lecturer settling in at the start of class. "Since the High Priestess made you her apprentice, I have considered your intractability to be an impediment to her plan. I ensured that she had a means of preventing your escape, and I have been monitoring your relationship to see if you were developing any kind of rapport. Now that you have, though, you have become a very different sort of problem."

The boss monster was still at a loss. Gaster was quiet, but it didn't feel as if he was trying to antagonize him again; this seemed more careful, almost sad, thought Sans. "In that respect, I have all the data I need," the doctor said. "I assure you that I have no personal designs on Her Eminence, and I will not imply anything further to that effect." He was looking through Sans now, almost talking to himself. "The more I resolve to be of use, the more difficult it becomes to discern where usefulness ends and interference begins. I am more inclined to let matters go where they will from here on, especially after the advice Her Eminence received last night. But..." The slashes on Gaster's face deepened. "It cannot hurt to exchange information. For example, did you notice that the 'ferryman' is a monster?"

"I..." Sans got his thoughts back in order, contemplated the fortune-teller and his cat-shaped table, and found himself nodding slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I kinda did. He didn't seem very human."

Gaster chuckled. "It's strange how these things work. Where I come from, he is the ferryman in the Underground."

"Where you come from?" A chill crept down Sans' spine. He tried to force a laugh. "We just have a coupla Royal Guards runnin' our ferry. Wha, is there more'n one Underground 'round here?"

"No. There is not." The smile faded. "Now, my turn. None of the people who heard Frisk's fortunes told were listening closely to her first question, or the answer. What exactly were they?"

Sans still had that prickly feeling, like someone had held a door open too long and he'd glimpsed something he couldn't unsee. He probably shouldn't tell the man who speaks in hands that they were supposed to beware of him, should he? "Yeah, she asked about something from her nightmares that wanted her to hurt somebody. He said it's a child who wants Frisk to kill someone who doesn't belong here, something about it having 'unfinished business,' and that Frisk was its connection."

The doctor waited patiently as Sans hesitated. "I'm pretty much positive she meant me," the boss monster continued. "I saw the kid once, and I could tell it hates my guts." The boss monster took a moment to indicate that he didn't have guts, ha ha, but Gaster was unamused. "So that means I don't belong here, and some freaky little ghost wants Frisk t'finish me off? I guess? Any chance ya know what any of that means?" He scratched his patella, wondering if it was his imagination or if his body was feeling a little more touch-sensitive than usual, like his human self.

Come to think of it, he could sort of smell the air in here, though it wasn't as strong as any of the ones he'd encountered at the festival. And now he could vaguely remember Frisk being right up against him a minute ago, and that her hair had smelled like...a smell. All he knew was that he had liked it, and letting her go had sucked.

...Crap. What were they talking about again?

"I see," murmured Gaster. He looked down at his extra hands. "Forgive me if this sounds dramatic, or if it's very personal, but have you ever felt especially out of place, or dreamed vividly of things that you are sure never happened to you?"

It was more than a chill this time. "Yeah, but I figured everybody feels like that sometimes. I've had the same nightmares my whole damn life, over and over. They stopped when I came here and started sleepin' inside her barrier. So..." He scowled, trying to cover his fear. "Somethin' is makin' us both see things? Is that it?" He suddenly sprang to his feet. "Is that why I used ta dream about ya? Are you behind all this shit?!"

Two skeletal hands flew at him and stopped just short of his eye sockets. Sans froze, feeling sick and cold inside as he stared through the holes in the palms. Those hands, coming at him—

Gaster gave a long, tired, defeated sigh. "Data. I am sorry, Sans. This will be very unpleasant, but I need to know if it is familiar to you. Hold still, please."

Before the boss monster could react, a third hand dropped onto the top of his skull and—

It was cold. Dark, darker, yet darker.

Papyrus wasn't moving. Sans struggled out of the restraints, threw himself onto the tiles and screamed at his brother, trying to shake the little skeleton awake, but pieces were already flaking off. Helpless tears streamed from Sans' sockets, soaking the dust into pink mud.

"Messy."

Sans whirled around, choking with grief and rage. He'd always promised himself he would kill the bastard before he let him hurt Pap! Why hadn't he—

Hands smashed into his spine, his ribs, and one square over his face, the palm large enough for both his sockets to see out through the hole. "I never could fix that design flaw," their creator said in distaste, poking at the red streaking Sans' cheekbones. "Strange...I always thought you'd break first. Ah, well." A philosophical sigh. "Now, the question of whether to finish with you and create a better set, or try a fresh copy of that one first. What do you think, Sans?"

There was a deep sound from behind Dr. Gaster, almost a snarl. It was Gaster's turn to whip around, his face contorted in surprise and every one of his hands flung up to defend himself. A flash of light, searing pain—

Footsteps. A dark figure bent over him. Sans whimpered as Gaster loomed back into his field of view. He should have known better than to hope he was dead!

But...Gaster seemed different, almost another person—paler, the cracks in his face more shallow and less splintered than the ones Sans had stared down his whole life. The hand that rested on Sans' forehead was...gentle? "I am so sorry, child," the scientist said quietly. "Forgive me."

Sans couldn't answer. He felt as if his bones were getting softer, his body lighter. When Gaster sighed, Sans watched tiny bits of himself blow away in the puff of breath. It was almost a relief to feel his SOUL flicker out like a candle and finally die.

Sans clawed his way back to consciousness, sitting up so hard that he nearly banged his head on the desk. He looked around, but there was no laboratory equipment, no tile floors or piles of murky dust, just the desk in her office.

Frisk's office. He was here. He wasn't dead, Pap wasn't dead, Gaster wasn't—

"Please do not move."

The boss monster froze in place. "Now, tell me," the doctor said, shutting the door. "Have you had that nightmare before?"

Sans nodded imperceptibly. "Yeah. Long...a long time ago." He couldn't stop shaking.

He flinched as Gaster patted his shoulder blade. "Please don't be frightened, Sans. It was only a dream. I have never hurt you or your brother, and I have no intention of ever doing so." A black coat drifted past Sans' peripheral vision as the royal sorcerer went behind the desk. "To answer your last question, no, I have not sent any of your nightmares, or hers. As I said, I am here to acquire information. I try to avoid collateral damage in the pursuit thereof, but it is not always possible. For that, I sincerely apologize. I've asked Frisk for her help in calming you down."

Sure enough, a sound was coming through the door behind him. It was faint, but as Sans listened, he recognized her humming a slow, sweet little song. Out of her entire repertoire, that one was probably his favorite; he hadn't heard it in so long that he'd been on the verge of swallowing his pride and asking her to do it again. Had Gaster requested that one specifically, or did she know?

Gaster watched the tension fade from the boss monster's massive frame, and the smallest movements of his skull as he bobbed his head along. The doctor examined the center of Sans' chest, his eyes going very wide. Sans was too mellow to ask what he was looking at...probably his SOUL. Eh, whatever.

Presently, the royal sorcerer said, "Snowdrake should be en route now. Her Eminence is still checking that the papers are in order, as well as the deposit she will have to put down until the Church finds another buyer for him." A dry chuckle. "If I know Frisk, Snowdrake will not be sold again. In the unlikely event that someone discovers she's lost track of him, she will be rebuked and lose her deposit, and that will be all."

Sans moved his shoulder back. "She's not gonna get fired or locked up?"

"They wouldn't dare. Not for her first offense, and not for neglecting a single low-ranked monster. Our High Priestess is protected by very powerful connections."

That word took Sans right back to the child from her nightmares. "Why'd you show me that horrible thing with me 'n Pap, and how? I didn't see the ghost kid anywhere. Is the little psycho mad about that dream 'cause it wanted ta kill me first? What the hell is it, anyway?"

"One thing at a time, please. Overall, you may be on the right track, but that's a matter I would rather discuss with Frisk. I—"

"Quit callin' 'er by name. I thought you weren't gonna pull that crap anymore."

Gaster merely smiled. "If you'll bear with me for a moment, the best answer I can give you is that the mind is a terrifyingly powerful thing." Sans bit back his impatience as the doctor settled himself again. "When someone has suffered greatly, especially early in life, it is natural to try to move past those experiences as quickly as possible. But if the mind is active, intelligent, and magically gifted, failure to properly acknowledge these experiences can backfire very badly. Inner demons may become reality, or outside forces with malevolent intent take notice, or both."

"Geez." Sans rubbed the corners of his eyes, wondering where the hanky was. "Yeah, that'd explain why I never got any sleep before I shacked up with someone who could block 'em for me."

A beat of cold silence. "I am not talking about you."

The giant skeleton paused mid-rub. "Ya mean—"

"Most people in a great deal of pain will express it as destructive behavior toward themselves or others. It takes remarkable determination to turn that negativity into the drive to protect other people, rather than lashing out." The doctor shook his head. "I am impressed that she has not seen anything worse than the specter of an evil child. The fact that it can be stopped with a barrier suggests it is primarily external in nature, and her recognizing its intent without acting upon it is also a good sign."

Sans winced. "So, is she seeing it 'cause she's mad at me? Am I in any actual danger?"

Gaster laced his fingers together. "Its power and its ability to work through her will depend both on her intrinsic strength and the energy she has left after dealing with other problems—say, a protege who interrupts an expensive fortune-teller with crude questions in front of dozens of people, and then says 'See you next year' as she tries to get him away."

At this point, Sans would have been surprised if word of that incident hadn't gotten around. "Ya think she's still mad at me?" he asked sheepishly.

"I am not her, so I cannot say for certain, but I can ask you whether you've apologized yet."

"I didn't get a chance! She reamed me out 'n made me go straight t'bed!"

"After which you were drunk this morning, which I still do not understand, and during which you took sizable liberties." A hand popped up to rap Sans on the skull. "At the risk of interfering further, I strongly advise you to ask yourself whether you want to be a friend or a problem."

Sans digested this in silence. The royal sorcerer glanced at the door. "We have a few more minutes. I'd like to ask you a few more questions—nothing terrible, just some odds and ends I've wanted to discuss for some time now. You may do the same."

The boss monster thought it over for a moment. "What's everyone sayin' about her second fortune, the one with the box?"

"Your turn is already over." Two more hands appeared over Gaster's head, one holding a pen and the other a small notepad. "Now, you were a normal skeleton for most of your life, correct? And Papyrus remains as he was?" The hand with the pen swooped down and tapped on Sans' upper leftmost fang, then the top of his skull. "Hm. Intact. How interesting."

Sans swatted at the hand, which evaded him as nimbly as a bug and swooped back up to scratch something on the notepad. "Yeah, Pap's still Pap, and I wasn't born a big ol' freak. Don't ask how that happened, 'cause I don't wanna talk about it."

"Fair enough. Tell me, Sans, do you or have you ever smoked?"

"Smoked? From where?"

The doctor laughed. "I'll take that as a no." Scritch, scritch went the pen. "Do you have a predilection for violence? If so, is it against other monsters, humans, or both?"

"Uh...yes? Humans?"

"I see." Scriscritch. "What is your favorite food? Do you prefer any condiments in particular?"

"My favorite food's whatever I can eat! Haven't you heard what's happenin' in the Underground? Where the hell are you from, exactly?"

Gaster tsked. "In that vein, have any monsters besides yourself become more violent than usual?"

"Not...really. Undyne's more psycho than ever, but I think that's just her."

"Is the situation such that anyone has contemplated resorting to cannibalism?"

"Hell no! Don't even joke about that!"

"I am not joking, Sans. Has the Underground seen a marked increase in sexual activity?"

Great, now he was baffled and embarrassed. "Weren't you listening? There's no damn food! Why would anybody want to have kids right now?"

"A valid point, but to your knowledge, have any of the monsters been engaging in indiscriminate, non-procreative sexual activities?"

"Wha—why the fuck would I know that?!"

That earned him another smack on the head, though not very hard. "Language." Scriscritch. "Now, please be honest. Have you ever contemplated keeping a human as a pet? If so, do you believe you would treat her well, or would you—"

"That does it!" Sans lurched to his feet, eyes and face blazing. "I dunno what kinda sick fantasies ya got goin', buddy, but I'm not gonna play along!"

The royal sorcerer held up his hands, and the extras holding the pen and notepad vanished. "Let's move on, then. Tell me whether this is correct: the second fortune explained the consequences of Her Eminence either opening or disposing of a box. One result is a very dull and safe future, while the other would be shorter and more painful, but ultimately much more fulfilling. Yes?"

Sans sat back down, poking at a scuff mark on the carpet. "Yeah, that's pretty much it."

"Unsurprisingly, many people are fixated on the latter possibility, because it would result in the High Priestess – if it is her, of course, which no one will say for certain, though they're certainly saying it – having a child by this time next year." One side of Gaster's mouth lifted. "It is a very popular misconception that human gestation lasts nine months, but in reality, medical experts consider a full-term pregnancy to be roughly forty weeks, or ten months. I will not contribute any sordid conjectures to the narrative, but if this aspect of her fortune is accurate, the necessary timing of certain events is self-evident."

"If?" Sans sat forward eagerly. "Ya mean it might not happen? No boring husband sometime soonish, no havin' a kid right away?"

Gaster stared at him for a little too long. "Where do you see yourself in this, Sans? Where would you like to be?"

Sans blinked. "Wha?"

"You escorted her to the festival, and mutual convenience led you to present yourselves as a couple, but you are not her husband. You are her apprentice and personal guard for the next twenty or so days, after which she will return to the usual course of her duties, and you will return to the Underground to report to King Asgore that the humans are interested in reopening diplomatic relations."

"Actually," Sans said, trying not to sound smug, "once my time's up, she's probably gonna come back Underground with me. She's got this big plan ta have monsters work with humans instead of bein' slaves, and it's too much fer me t'decide on, so—"

"So you would risk her life by bringing her directly to Asgore?" The doctor stood slowly, and the room seemed to grow darker as he glared down at Sans. "You idiot! Do you have any idea what will happen if the High Priestess is delivered to your King as he is now?"

"You mean, if he doesn't like her idea? Then I'll...uh..."

"You'll what?" Gaster's voice dripped with such scorn that Sans couldn't muster a response. "King Asgore is not interested in making peace! He would only meet with her in order to take her SOUL!"

The boss monster's mouth opened and closed. "But...if I didn't—"

"Asgore's sole aim is to become powerful enough to take vengeance on humanity. The King knows very well that only women with strong inborn magic may become High Priestess, and the moment he saw Frisk's SOUL for himself, he would be willing to fight her, you, and perhaps even Toriel to acquire it. Do you understand?"

Sans had never felt so small and stupid. Why hadn't it occurred to him that Asgore would notice how powerful Frisk was without being told? All he had thought of was the excuse to take her with him, not even bothering to remember how he had immediately noticed her SOUL and tried to kill her for it. He was smarter than this!

There was no time to beat himself up. He had to think. Her first fortune had said her efforts wouldn't bear fruit, and Gaster had mentioned Asgore "as he is now"; for the second future to come to pass, with Frisk changing the world and achieving her goal, the King would have to be more like his old, sweet-natured self, who would never have killed someone without at least hearing her out. "Whaddya think is in the box?" Sans asked abruptly.

Gaster frowned. "That's an excellent question. I couldn't even venture a guess without seeing the box myself, but I doubt Her Eminence would be willing to show me. After what you said last night, I don't think she would be receptive to you asking, either."

Sans let himself fall onto his back, staring at the wallpapered ceiling. Who the hell put wallpaper on the ceiling? "Nope. She'd kick my ass from here to the Underground and back."

"Crude, but accurate." Gaster sighed, twiddling his thumbs in elaborate swirls. "How very frustrating. We have so much information, but the most crucial component may be forever beyond our gr—"

The door banged open. "Excuse me," Frisk said to Sans, who got up and watched her shove the couch aside.

Gaster quickly resumed his disguise; luckily, the priestess was so fixated on the couch that she hadn't noticed. "May we help you, my lady?" asked Dr. Serif.

"No." The young woman yanked at a floorboard, and both monsters watched in astonishment as she pulled it up to reveal a makeshift safe. She removed the barrier and rummaged through the safe, extracting a thickly folded paper. "Here we are." Frisk scowled as she tried to remove the packet: the safe was so small that the paper was stuck lengthwise against something. The priestess dug downward and shoved the offending object up and onto the floor. "Here is the deed to my house in Riverview, and here's the key. You and Snowdrake will be able to stop there on your way, and no one will...Sans? Hello?"

The men weren't listening to her. They were looking at what had tumbled out of the safe: a rosewood box.

Frisk slapped at it, sending it tumbling back into the safe, which she resealed and covered with the floorboard and couch in rapid succession. "Don't even think about it," she said to them, dangerously calm, and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

The royal sorcerer scratched his cheek. "Memories."

"Hm?" Sans glanced at him. "What about 'em?"

"That type of wood is useful for preserving magical objects, but that shape and size are not common. Given the context of her second fortune and the emotional pain therein, it must contain at least one memory." Dr. Serif drummed his fingers on the desk. "How curious. Memory excision has historically been so abused that it was outlawed by King Stephin's great-grandfather. Nowadays, the procedure can only be authorized on a case-by-case basis by a Church official higher than an archdeacon, or the very highest ranks of the nobility or royalty."

Sans suddenly remembered a night not long after he'd arrived where Frisk had mentioned her father, and how loyal her mother had been to the duke she worked for. Just for grins, he'd looked up the hierarchy of nobility in one of Frisk's books, and a duke was the next best thing to being a royal. It all fit, except for the fact that what the hell was in the box? How did you keep memories sitting around like that? Why would you need to carve something like that out of someone's head, and how would getting it back make the difference between a future of "stupid perfect husband she didn't even like" and "monsters going free" plus "having sex sometime soon"?

One more thing came to mind, and before he could stop himself, Sans said, "Hey, Gaster. Doctor. Whatever you are right now. You say you're from another Underground or something?"

The doctor narrowed his eyes at him again. Even with a human face, it gave Sans the creeps. "Why do you ask?"

Sans almost said "Never mind," but the air still faintly smelled of Frisk – he'd have to ask her what it was, exactly – and he wouldn't get a chance to ask anyone else who might know, so, fuck it. "D'ya know if it's possible for a monster and a human to have a kid together? Biologically?"

The royal scientist raised his eyebrows. "Well," he said after a painfully long moment. "It is quite rare, but I am aware of several instances where a human woman married and had at least one child with a monster." He coughed. "With a skeleton."

But before Sans could even start feeling things about that, much less sort through them, the doctor half-smiled. "None of them, however, involved a boss monster." He stood, and walked to the door. "I'm sorry." He slipped out, leaving Sans to stare up at the wallpaper ceiling.

#songfell sick of not answering questions yet very soon i swear

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calligraphist-artemisia · 5 years ago

Text

14 | Ritual

Written for Kidgetober 2020. Week 2 Theme: Myths & Magic. Day 14: Ritual.

Summary: Alternate Universe - Magic. All Pidge wanted to know was who her soulmate was. And if all of her attempts at using divination to find out were not going to work for her, then she'd just have to develop her own ritual for it. Nothing could go wrong with that, right?

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune. Titled as “Magic of the Season”.

- - - - -

14 | Ritual

The Castle of Lions was the premiere magical institute of Altea and notoriously difficult to be accepted into even for the best and brightest. They only accepted a maximum of five students per year and Pidge was blessed to count herself among the four chosen in the first year she applied. It meant there was plenty of individual training and enough room for everyone to have their own space to practice and study their chosen Craft.

Pidge loved her room. It was a circular space located at the top of the western tower and came equipped with a bathroom that she was rapidly coming to appreciate. Three windows allowed light to filter in whenever she pulled back her heavy curtains and there was a door that opened onto a tiny balcony that was perfect for stargazing.

Most important, it was her space and she could do whatever she wished without worrying about being interrupted.

She was especially grateful for that as she prepared for her newest ritual, one designed to allow her to divine the identity of her soulmate. It was a concept that fascinated her from the first time it was mentioned by High Priestess Melenor, but also one that felt completely out of reach for Pidge because of one very big reason.

She was awful at all forms of divination.

And from all of her studies, the tried and true method of ascertaining the identity of one's soulmate was through some form of that magical art. There was simply no other way.

Pidge threw herself into the process, taking the time to break down all of the steps and test out a few different ways. She'd gone through a full month of mediation and attempting Astral travel, but found it nearly impossible to quiet her mind long enough to achieve that goal.

When it became clear that meditating wasn't the right path for her, she moved onto the various forms of scrying, starting with the classic crystal ball. And although she tried it with several different types of crystal, she didn't find one that she “vibed” with enough for it to actually work and gave up on that path after two frustrating weeks. She spent another week with a shallow bowl of water and a quartz crystal cluster. And then a round mirror. And then a piece of hematite lit only by candlelight.

All of that brought her to the decision that the only way she would succeed in her goal would be if she crafted her own ritual. She'd had moderate success with Dream Magic in the past and hoped that it could be useful for what she intended.

Pidge took every step that she could think of the ensure the highest chance of success. Her room was already cleansed after her last ritual, so she began with a relaxing bath with purifying salts and herbs and remained there until her head felt clear and light, her magical energy brimming beneath the surface of her skin in anticipation.

She slipped on a simple cotton dress and clasped a band of hematite around her right ankle to help keep her grounded through the process. Next came a circlet crafted from silver, which had a sun-and-moon centerpiece made of sunstone and moonstone, locked by a small diamond on either side. It centered neatly over her brow.

She was ready.

Pidge gathered up the rest of her tools and began to arrange them in the center of the room, taking care with each item and focusing on her purpose. Using a piece of kunzite, she carved her chosen runes into the proper candles before setting them down around her. A stick of sandalwood incense was lit last and she stood with the kunzite in her hands and watched as the smoke curled up into the air.

She breathed in and then released that breath, feeling her magic rise in answer to her call, before turning to the north to begin the opening of her circle, calling in each elemental force to request their aid in her ritual as she lit each candle.

With energy swirling around her, Pidge slowly sat cross-legged in the center of the circle and closed her eyes. She held on tight to her intent, refusing to stray to any other thought.

She wanted to find her soulmate.

She wanted to know who they were and where she could find them.

The candlelight flared along with her magic as her spell took hold. Pidge could feel the heat of the flames. The thickness in the air. The scent of sandalwood, heavy around her.

It continued to build, higher and higher, until the next thing Pidge knew the soft early morning sun was shining in through the windows and all of her limbs were stiff and sore from apparently passing out on the floor.

Pidge groaned as she sat up, blearily looking around and taking note of the fully-melted candles and the stick of incense that was completely burned out. The kunzite was still in her hands, held onto so tightly that it left behind marks when she finally let it go.

As she examined the indents it left, she noticed something else unusual.

Encircling her right wrist was some kind of band of silver ink that was no more than a centimeter wide, comprised of intricate spirals that formed some sort of pattern, but not one that held any meaning as far as Pidge knew. She studied it for a moment, her tired brain working to try and make sense of it all, but a knock at the door interrupted her and she quickly jumped up.

“Just a minute!” she called out.

Pidge hesitated at the edge of the circle and then stepped back into the center. She took a moment to steady her breathing and then went through the steps to close the circle, taking the time to thank each of the elemental forces for their aid. Only then did she hurry around and prepare for the day.

Cleaning up would have to wait.

Another knock and the sound of her friend, Lance, calling for her had Pidge rolling her eyes at his impatience. She checked her reflection and took an extra minute to remove the circlet and place it back into its box before answering the door.

“You have got to learn some patience,” she said before Lance could open his mouth.

“Hey, I'm not the one running abnormally late,” he responded. “You didn't stay up all night reading again, did you? I don't know how you lose track of time doing that.”

“Some of us came here to actually learn and study.”

“Ouch. I'm wounded. My heart!” Lance placed one hand over his chest and dramatically swooned. “Your cruelty breaks my spirit! And after I brought you breakfast!”

Pidge's stomach growled when she caught side of the cloth-wrapped bundle in Lance's hands. “So should I profess my undying devotion to you now or do you want to wait until there are other people around?”

Lance laughed and handed over the food as they left the tower and headed towards their first lesson of the day with Alchemist Alfor. He chatted about whatever came to his mind while Pidge devoured the sandwich and made reaffirming noises so he knew she was still paying attention. She finished it as they passed under the arch marking the potions and alchemy wing of the castle and, coincidentally, came across the other two students of their year – all-around sweetheart Hunk Garrett and his more hot-tempered friend, Keith Hawkins, who also happened to be embroiled in an intense rivalry with Pidge.

The two pairs came to a dead stop beneath the archway.

Pidge was in no mood to deal with him so early in the morning and especially not after yet another failed attempt at divination spellcrafting, so she pretended as though he didn't exist as Hunk and Lance jumped into a lively conversation to try and lift the atmosphere around them.

“Anyway, there's a note on Alfor's door asking us to meet in the Four Seasons Courtyard for our lesson today. That's why we're on our way back through,” Hunk explained.

“Lucky for us that we ran into you!” Lance laughed as he slung an arm across Hunk's shoulders. “Do you think we're gathering ingredients for something? Or does he have another lecture on how our environment affects alchemic equations?”

Hunk shrugged. “Guess we'll find out once we get there.”

The two walked ahead, leaving Pidge and Keith to silently follow behind them. Pidge used every ounce of her willpower to keep her mouth shut and not look over at her rival, telling herself that it wouldn't be worth getting into an argument right before class.

It was when they arrived in the courtyard that everything went wrong.

Pidge tried to walk towards Lance to sit with him like she always did but was stopped by Keith grabbing her wrist and tugging her back towards him. She whirled on him, a snarl on her lips, only to be interrupted by his own furious remark -

“What the fuck? Let go of me, Holt!”

“I am not holding onto you! Why would I, Hawkins?” she snapped back.

In unison, they glared at their wrists, each seeking to prove that they were right, only to discover that they were both wrong. There was nothing there, though Pidge continued to feel pressure around her wrist as though there was something holding onto her.

“Is there a problem over here?” asked Alchemist Alfor as he approached.

Keith tried to yank his hand away from the invisible force but it only served to make Pidge stumble forward and throw a another glare in his direction.

“Alright, alright. Calm down,” Alfor said before either of them could start speaking again. He, like everyone else in the castle, was well aware of the animosity between the two of them. “I'm sure this is someone's idea of a prank and we can get it sorted out quickly. Lets take a look at what's going on, shall we?” He held his hand out over theirs and murmured a few words. Within seconds, a twisted braid of gold and silver appeared around their wrists, with a short chain connecting them.

Keith frowned. “What is that?”

“Fascinating... I've never seen anything like it,” Alfor admitted. “I would wager that the silver is related to some form of soul magic, but I'm unsure of what the gold represents. Melenor would be the best to ask about this sort of thing, unless either of you has an idea?”

Pidge's blood turned to ice in her veins.

Soul magic.

It couldn't be.

Not him!

“He is not my soulmate,” Pidge refused, unaware that she was speaking aloud.

Keith's eyes flashed with something Pidge couldn't define and he tensed his jaw before responding. “Who would ever want you to be their soulmate, Holt?”

Alfor must have called for backup while Pidge wasn't paying attention, because suddenly Battle Mage Shiro was there and was hurrying them to Melenor's office while Alfor stayed behind to teach Hunk and Lance the lesson he had planned for the day. It was there that Melenor confirmed her husbands thoughts that soul magic was involved, with the silver strand representing femininity while the gold represented masculinity – a perfect balance symbolizing the bond between them.

Pidge had no choice but the tell them about the ritual she performed and how it was designed to reveal her soulmate, and from there Melenor came up with a plan to help them.

“You will live together for one week. If you cannot learn to get along in that time, I will undue the spell tying you together. I want to make it clear that you will give this your best effort. Magic has bonded the two of you together for a reason and I should think that both of you would endeavor to learn why.”

So there they were, in the brand new set of rooms they were being allowed to borrow for one week while they lived together, unable to move more than a few feet apart. Neither of them spoke for the first hour, until Keith finally sat down and refused to budge, his violet eyes hard as he stared up at her.

“I don't understand what your problem with me is,” he said.

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Right.”

“I'm serious. From the very first day we met you've treated me like I'm the scum of the earth. What did I ever do to you?” Keith demanded.

Pidge opened her mouth to respond, but Keith wasn't finished.

“Imagine it's your first day in the most prestigious magical institute in the world and as you're leaving your first class you finally see your soulmate. And at first you think it's just another dream, like all of the others you've had since you were old enough to understand what a soulmate is, but when you try to talk to her it all turns into a nightmare.

“At first I thought you were just stressed, but that wasn't right, was it? Because you get along with everyone else in this school. Just not me. So what is it, Holt? What did I do to you that was so horrible that you need to turn every chance meeting into a confrontation?”

The hot flash of fury that Pidge felt when he first started talking dissipated the moment he spoke of his dreams. A heavy, cold weight settled in the pit of her stomach as her mind worked to comprehend what she was hearing. “You... you knew this whole time? Why didn't you ever say something?”

“What was the point? I knew it would only end in rejection. You proved me right about that earlier,” Keith responded. The heat was gone from his voice, replaced by a deep sorrow.

Pidge sat on the floor next to him and pulled her knees up against her chest, thinking back to her first week at the Castle of Lions. It had been a massive change from the rigorous structure and rules of the Galaxy Garrison where she previously studied and she remembered struggling to adapt to a new environment. It took her a moment to place when her first interaction with Keith, an event she blocked from her mind because it didn't seem worth remembering aside from it being the starting place of their rivalry. A rivalry she was starting to think was almost entirely one-sided.

She had volunteered to try and solve an alchemic equation Alfor presented to them and when she was finished, Keith was the first to speak up and offer a critique on her work. She remembered the flush of anger at being called out for making what, in hindsight, was a stupid mistake that spoiled the rest of her work, and then the embarrassment as two students of another year started sniggering to themselves over it. The fact that Keith completely snubbed her as they all left the classroom served to cement in her mind that he was challenging her intellect and from that day on she refused to show weakness.

She breathed out softly and pressed her forehead to the tops of her knees.

Had she really based their rivalry on a simple misunderstanding?

Had her time at the Galaxy Garrison really impaired her social skills that much? Lance was always joking about it, but maybe there was some truth to that.

The competitive atmosphere. The constant drive to do better and be the best. Maybe she carried that with her to the Castle of Lions and let it influence the way she interacted with her peers. She thought she was getting better at it with help from Lance and speaking with their instructors, but those first few weeks...

That first interaction with Keith, when he corrected her and then didn't say a word to her after that – so different from the Garrison, where rivalries were encouraged as a way to push one another to do better. That lack of acknowledgment for it made her feel as though he was looking down on her. Like she was unworthy of being considered an equal.

“Keith, I... I'm so sorry,” she murmured, unsure how to put all of her thoughts into the right words. “I don't know what else to say. All of this is my fault. Our fighting. This chain tying us together. I've never been great at divination and I've been trying for months to use it to find my soulmate – to find you – and after all of that I ended up making a spell and well... I guess Magic got tired of being ignored, so it found a way to make things more obvious for me. And here you've known all along! I can't imagine how that must have felt.”

She snapped her mouth shut and uttered another quick apology as she realized she had started rambling.

“I didn't mean what I said before,” Keith said after a moment of silence. “About how no one would want to be your soulmate? I didn't mean that.”

Pidge lifted her head from her knees. “I kind of deserved it. I've been awful to you.”

“And I was awful right back,” Keith responded, a sudden spark of passion to his voice as he twisted to look at her. “We've both said and done things that we regret. I'm not going to sit here and go over all of it when it'll only make us feel worse. Look, we're stuck together for at least a week, right?”

Pidge nodded.

“Then let's make the best of that time. By, uh, talking things through, I guess. I don't know how people normally do this sort of thing,” he admitted.

“Neither do I,” Pidge said with a grimace. “But we're smart. We can figure it out.”

Keith made a curious sound, but didn't voice whatever he was thinking. Instead, he stuck out his left hand to her – the one with the gold-and-silver chain clasped around his wrist. “Deal.”

“Deal,” Pidge agreed, grasping his left hand with her right.

The chain loosened ever-so-slightly between them.

#voltron #kidgetober #kidgetober 2020 #fanfiction #day 14: ritual #week 2: myths & magic #this one got a little long on me #testing out some ideas for an original work here

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bltzgore · 4 years ago

Text

Alright here's an actual story fragment

Characrer index:

Jupiter: (Female) 6'1, strong, intense, scary, werebeast [turns into a monster called a rusttooth]

Sky: (Male) 5'10, sweet, caring, perceptive, usually observant, bold but not fearless

North: (Male) 6'2, snarky, playful, big brother figure, loyal, devoted

Tw: language panic, mention of blood, broken bones, hopelessness, claustrophobia I suppose? Idk this is still a wip.

The fall came out of nowhere. He hadn't even noticed the hole prior, but once he was slipping it was too late. He barely had long enough to yell as he was dragged down the icy hole. His stomach felt like it was in his chest as he fell, deeper, deeper. The light faded away, he dropped into the darkness, nothing but the chilling air on all sides until he was crushed between two icy jaws. It rattled him badly, slowing his fall but scraping him up as he continued to slide down. He expected to stop but it suddenly opened up. He wasn't sure how long he felt but when he hit ground it hurt. His legs were wedged in what felt like another hole and his torso cracked against a chunk of ice.

It took some time for him to actually understand what had happened, to steady himself enough to focus. He tried to take deep breaths but his doubtlessly broken ribs made that impossible. There was a tiny pinprick of light above him, but it didn't help much. He shuttered with the cold, fear, and pain as he tried to push himself free, but the speed of the fall, despite the slowing earlier he was wedged far too tight. He was stuck, ok, he had to stay calm. He couldn't do this himself, his friends were bound to notice he was gone. He tilted up towards the hole, "HELP! NORTH! JUPITER!" He stopped and waited, nothing. He felt a shard of white hot fear jab him in the chest. He was going to die here, they weren't going to find him- NO! He just needed to keep yelling they would find him. He steadied himself again, then kept yelling.

Jupiter was relaxed, it was pretty calm here. Not many people really ventured up this far, she was confident they would be undisturbed. She wished they could stay here, she loved it, all the blues and whites and wonderful landscape, but it was cold. Since she had been bitten she had gradually discovered that she had grown a much higher tolerance for the heat and the cold. It was a little cool for her, but for the others it was freezing. Their winter gear helped but it was still uncomfortable. They couldn't stay here, but for now she would bask in the cool peace that the landscape provided.

North walked up and placed down a few branches he had managed to find a little ways down from the forest up against the glacier. He glanced down at it then up towards Jupiter, "Enjoying yourself?"

She opened her eyes and nodded. This was the most relaxed North had ever seen her. She was basking in the bone chilling air, eyes shut and features relaxed. What almost made North question if she was mentally sound was that she was not armed. Jupiter always had some form of weapon on her, despite her ability.

This was good to see, she was never relaxed like this. He made a mental note to visit here again, if only to give Jupiter another chance to be this at ease. He knelt down to set the fire and noticed Jupiter seemed to snap to. "Didn't Sky go with you?" she asked, her tone not quite uneasy, but also her tension free stance was gone.

"No, he went to go get water, he should be back in a bit." North assured her. Jupiter seemed to calm at the news, but he could see that her muscles didn't relax. She'd be like that until Sky got back, well so be it, it would only be a few minutes. Time started to pass, five minutes, ten, then fifteen, then thirty, an hour later both of them were worried.

Jupiter had been pacing the camp when North walked over, "Let's go." he didn't need to say where.

They started in the direction that North had seen him go, luckily there were a few patches where the snow hadn't melted in the sun. Patches where Sky's tracks had stuck around. It led them off in the direction of the sound of rushing water.

Jupiter saw the hole before North did and grabbed the back of his shirt.

"What?" he seemed mildly irritated.

"That." she pointed to it.

"Oh shit. Do you think...?" he started looking back at her.

"Let's find out.'' She took several careful steps towards the hole stopping and kneeling down to make sure she at least had some form of tractions if she somehow started to slide. Jupiter cupped her hands around her mouth, took a deep breath and yelled "SKYYYYYYY!"

Sky froze, there! They were here! "JUPITER! NORTH! I'M DOWN HERE!!!! HELP!!" he winced and shut his eyes. In his excitement he'd over done it on a few breaths, and his ribs were shrieking. He tried to calm down, he needed to keep yelling, if he didn't they might not hear him. He clenched his jaw and took a breath, trying not to make it too deep. "JUPITER! NORTH!" It was louder and the shock knocked the wind out of him for a bit, "Help."

"Do you hear anything?" North asked.

"Shhhh!" she responded leaning her ear towards the hole. She shut her eyes, focusing on her ears. She flinched, "He's down there!" she announced turning back to North. "I heard him."

"So... we have to.." he started.

"Climb down and get him. Yes." she confirmed.

They had recovered what little gear they had from camp, which consisted of four climbing picks, a harness and line, and a few pitons. It was decided that North would get the harness and that Jupiter could free climb. This took some time to settle as North was reluctant to allow her to go without any sort of safety cord, but the fact remained that if one of them fell she would be the one capable of surviving. So he took the harness.

Once the anchor was set and the harness was hooked up they armed themselves with climbing picks and started their descent. They had both done something similar to this before. They had been required to climb a mountain with a group. It had been a sort of training exercise, though it had likely also been intended to build trust. However Jupiter and North had elected to go on their own. It had gone really well actually, Jupiter took up rock climbing for several months after.

The climb was draining, the further down they got the darker and colder it became. Jupiter was the more adept at this, but North was taking it all in stride. He had lost his grip a few times during which he was internally very thankful he had let Jupiter talk him into taking the harness. Jupiter on the other hand was getting more and more comfortable with this by the second.

At first she had been tense and focusing on one the portion of the wall at a time, just trying to stay focused. She'd almost lost one of the picks when she'd lost her grip, but her hand had changed, it had gone scaly, the claws were easily long enough and strong enough to sink into the ice just as well as the picks had been. After that she had become far more comfortable climbing around. After all she now had a second set of climbing picks that she couldn't drops.

Sky was shaking, shivering, freezing. He couldn't feel his fingers, which now he supposed was a good thing. He was pretty sure he was missing a nail or two from when he had tried to slow his fall he had been able to reach one of the walls. But again he couldn't feel that right now, he could barely see the blood in the water... the water? It was maybe five inches deep, a bit above his waist.

That hadn't been there before! His chest tightened, and his breaths became deeper and faster, causing his ribs to flare up with each gulp of air. The water was rising! He was going to drown! He tried struggling free again. The water was still running down here, it was going to fill the cave. He had to get out of here! Now! NOW! "No! No! No! No NO! HELP I'M GOING TO DROWN! HELP ME! PLEASE! I- ACK!" Pain raced through his chest and stole his breath away. He stopped, shock paralyzing him. He leaned forward against the ice chunk trying to breathe but trying to stop the pain, trying to calm himself down. Tears were starting to roll down his cheeks, "Help me," he sobbed breathlessly, "Please, save me."

Jupiter froze, "North! I heard him again, did you?"

He stopped and shifted himself to handle the weight, "I heard something."

"I think he said drowning." she seemed to be staring down at nothing.

He could practically read her mind, "Jupiter no."

"North, by the time we get there it could be too late." saying that stole the air from her throat.

"Or he's panicking, he could be fine. If we fall we're screwed too." North reminded, trying to calm her down.

"North." she gave him a serious look, "There's no way of knowing he's not in immediate danger. We have to get down there."

He went to argue back but she was already changing. She shifted from hanging onto the pick to anchoring her claws in the wall. Her claws were just about twice as long as the ice picks and now she had much more grip on her back legs. She clambered over to North and nodded to her back. He seemed reluctant but sighed, "If you fall we're screwed." he warned before climbing on, disconnecting the rope from his harness and getting a grip on her spines.

She was moving much faster, occasionally her claws would slide and North would completely tense up hanging on to her spines as tight as he could get his hands to grip. He would stay tense until a good five minutes after she was resituated and continued climbing down. She could feel when the walls started to close in. It got tight fast, and her tail was the first to get stuck. She started to lash it a little, feeling the ice cracking around her tail.

"It gets pretty claustrophobic pretty quick. I don't think you're going to fit." North observed, looking down.

She chuffed, yanking her tail free, then looked down at the hole she would need to find a way down. As a human she wouldn't have much of a problem getting through it. She couldn't really control when she would change back, and if she did she wouldn't be able to get a grip on the ice. There was really only one thing left to do.

"Ok, so what if you stay here, and I go down and find out what's happening." North suggested.

She shifted enough to see the hole below and glanced at her claws then sunk them into the wall, pulling them out through the ice, shredding it. She started slashing, slashing, slashing, cutting the hole larger.

"Or you could just cut your way down, why not." North snarked, before turning his attention to hanging on.

At first there was just a little bit of snow drifting down. It was falling from the hole above his head. He started to look up as chunks of ice started to splash in the water around him. It was just below his chest, but he could still lean down on the ice chuck and keep his head above water. More and more started to come tumbling down, was it a cave-in? He couldn't tell, but he decided he'd rather die to being buried alive than drowning. He shut his eyes and waited stifling his sniffling. But then there was a new sound. A very grating noise but unmistakable, the sound of breaking ice!

The fact that she was able to basically dig her way down, though yes the tunnel had already been started, was really impressing North. He knew rusttooths were powerful but this was wild. She was clawing massive pieces out of the wall and crushing them as they fell. At first it sort of confused him but then he understood, if Sky was at the bottom of this hole she didn't want him to get crushed.

Just as he was wondering how much longer this was going to take the floor she had carved gave out. They were in free fall, but Jupiter handled this well. She glanced down and saw where they were falling, right on top of a familiar figure! She took a swipe at the nearest wall before it was out of her reach. She wasn't trying to catch herself though. When she hit it she pushed herself away, changing their landing point.

Landing was a big rough on her joints but she landed on all found and bent to absorb the shock before towards North, who was already jumping off her back and running towards Sky. She took off after him, splashing through the water.

North knelt down beside Sky and pulled him into a hug seeing the state he was in. Shivering, crying, bruised and bleeding. Sky couldn't really speak, he was so tired, and it all hurt so bad, but he was safe now. They were here, they would save him. He stayed tucked against North, unable to do much else than hope North would understand what was wrong.

"I got you buddy, you're gonna be ok." North kept a hand on Sky's back then looked down. So that was it, he was stuck. "Ju, he's wedged, you're gonna need to dig him out."

She looked where he was pointing and nodded. She raised then jammed her claws through the water into the ice. She did this over and over going all the way around. Then she started to dig, cracks forming between the holes as pieces started to come away. Sky relaxed the more ice she pulled away until they could pull him out. From there North climbed back on Jupiter's back and made sure he was hanging on tight to her with one hand and to Sky with the other.

The climb up was far easier than the climb down for Jupiter. The way down had been a slow process of setting her claws in a spot she thought she could trust but then carefully putting her weight into it as she tested to see if she had hooked her claws in deep enough. She could practically run up the sides. Her claws sunk in much more naturally and her muscles were primed to work this direction.

As soon as they were back above ground Jupiter headed back towards the camp. The fire had gone out again and it was starting to get dark, so rekindling it was North's first priority. He climbed off and helped Sky down before heading over to the lighter.

"Ju, think you can change back?"

She shook her head and sat down turning to Sky and very carefully scooting him against her. Her monstrous form was radiating heat, how it kept her moving in the cold. It meant she would have to eat more frequently, but that wouldn't be much of a problem as long as they got out of here soon.

Sky cuddled into her underside, he was freezing and soaked. She did a good job blocking out the wind and trapping heat under her. She lowered her head and nuzzled him carefully, chuffing quietly.

North got the fire going, Jupiter was still stuck in rust form but didn't seem to mind. She was basically big enough to stand in for a tent, and when the snow started falling she was happy to play the part. She sat up, and Sky and North sat beneath her, North tending to Sky's wounds. Sky was able to tell them about the broken ribs, and North made sure his bloody fingers and scrapes were bandaged.

#whump #whumpee #wip #story #fragment #cold #freezing #glacier

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ofstormsandwolves · 5 years ago

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Five times Joan accidentally got a dog and one time she didn’t

Zoey x Joan

All ages

Fluff, humour, a little bit of emotional hurt/comfort

Zoey, Joan, Mo, several dogs Joan has no right owning...

Joan keeps accidentally acquiring new dogs. Until one time, she doesn't. Zoey doesn't know what to say.

Read on AO3

The first time: Burberry

“Sorry I’m late,” Joan said, sliding onto the bar stood opposite Zoey’s. “Work was chaos.”

“No problem,” Zoey responded with a smile, sliding a drink across the table towards her partner.

Seeing the drink, Joan’s eyes lit up. “You’re a life saver.” She put her bag on the table and reached eagerly for the drink.

When they’d arranged to meet for a mini-date after work at a nearby bar, this one sans karaoke, neither of them had anticipated Joan’s meeting with the board members running quite so late. Still, she was here now, and Zoey wasn’t going to let anything else ruin her night.

That was, of course, until Joan’s purse moved of its own accord.

“Uh, Joan, did your bag just move?”

Joan, who was busy sipping her cocktail, frowned before looking to her bag. “Oh. Yeah. That’s Burberry.”

Zoey squinted at the bag. “It says it’s Louis Vuitton,” she said, pointing towards the lettering all over the purse.

Joan rolled her eyes, smiling at her partner’s lack of awareness. “Yes, the bag’s Louis Vuitton,” she said, reaching for the purse. “It’s Burberry making it move.”

She opened the bag then, and the tiny head of a white miniature Poodle popped out, looking a little surprised by its surroundings.

“I thought she was arriving tomorrow,” Joan continued conversationally, as though she hadn’t just revealed that she had a puppy in her purse in a bar. “But my dog person screwed up and dropped her off today instead.”

Not quite knowing what to say, Zoey stared at the dog for several long seconds. Finally finding her voice, she tore her gaze away from the puppy to look to the brunette opposite her. “Cute dog.”

“She is,” Joan said happily. “You know, I’ve usually only had big dogs. They’re much better at scaring away paparazzi and stuff. But Burberry seems quite nice.” She frowned then. “I just hope Tomford and Hermés get on with her.”

“So, uh, you didn’t mention you were getting another dog,” Zoey said slowly, still a little baffled by what was happening.

“Oh yeah, well, I didn’t know. Not until lunchtime, anyway.” Joan frowned. “I think I may have subscribed to something?” She waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever.”

“You think you subscribed to something?” Zoey echoed. “What, like a dog-buying service? Do those even exist?”

The older woman fixed her with a look. “Zoey, if people want it, it exists. I’m sure there are dog-buying subscriptions. I mean, I pay my dog person to buy me dogs. That’s their job. Maybe I signed some subscription agreement when I signed the contract.” She shrugged, and took a sip of her cocktail. “I’ll have my lawyer look into it.”

Burberry, still in the bag, was starting to whine a little then, and she was attracting attention from other patrons.

“I’m not sure we should have a dog in here, Joan,” Zoey said then, noting some of the looks they were getting. “I mean, they serve food.”

“But I promised you a date night,” Joan responded with a frown.

“We never said the date night had to be out of the house,” Zoey offered, realising her partner felt bad about them leaving so soon. “We can go to my place, or your place, and watch a movie or something.”

“And you’re alright with that?” the other woman questioned.

Already slipping off her chair, Zoey smiled. “I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise. Come on.”

Taking Joan’s hand, she tugged her from her seat. Joan grabbed her purse and followed the redhead towards the door.

The second time: Gucci

Joan hurrying into a meeting barely a minute before they were about to start was odd. She was a woman who hated people who weren’t punctual, particularly when it came to work. That hadn’t changed since taking over as temporary CEO of SPRQ Point, and Zoey couldn’t help but survey her partner with concern.

Of course, there was no way she could raise her concern in the middle of a business meeting, so she bit her tongue and turned her attention to her tablet while Joan hurried to get herself ready. It wasn’t until something was practically shoved under her nose that the redhead blinked up at her partner.

“Hold him, will you,” Joan said, sounding distracted.

On autopilot, Zoey accepted the small grey French bulldog and settled the puppy in her lap without question. A few people around the table frowned, but nobody dare ask questions as Joan began talking about the latest SPRQ Point device they were launching.

In all honesty, the puppy was pretty well behaved. Zoey suspected it was a little stunned, possibly too stunned to react to what was happening around it. The puppy sniffed her tablet, and her, and squirmed a little, but seemed alright with being sat on her lap for the forty-minute presentation. Occasionally, some of the other coders, team leaders, and managers around the table would shoot Zoey and the puppy a confused look, but they all seemed to know better than to say anything.

When the meeting was finally over, and people vacated the conference room, Zoey let out a sigh of relief.

“Care to tell me where this little guy came from?” Zoey asked Joan pointedly as the older woman put away her notes and tablet.

Joan glanced up in the middle of sorting through her things, before returning her attention to her bag. “Well, it turns out that subscription service doesn’t run out until the end of the month.”

Zoey blinked. “Uh... What?”

That earned her a look. “The subscription service, for the dogs. You know; the one we cancelled after I got Burberry last month?”

Considering the puppy had crashed their date night, Zoey wasn’t likely to forget, so instead she nodded. “But we cancelled it before the end of last month. So what’s with this little dude?” She held up the dog to emphasise her point. The dog yawned.

“Ugh, apparently they take the subscription money in the middle of the month, not the end. So by the time we’d cancelled, I’d already paid for this month. Hence,” she pointed towards the bulldog, “Gucci.”

Gucci yawned again, and curled up in Zoey’s lap. “Well,” the redhead sighed, “he is cute...”

“Exactly,” Joan said definitively. “Now come on, I’m treating you to lunch.”

Then she swept Gucci up from Zoey’s lap and disappeared out the conference room door.

The third time: Prada

“You know,” Zoey said with a poorly-hidden smirk, “when you texted to suggest a picnic in the park for lunch, I didn’t realise you’d be bringing a friend with you.”

At the teasing comment, Joan rolled her eyes, and looked over at the Australian Shepherd puppy asleep between them. “I’m sorry, ok? I don’t even understand where this one came from.”

“Well, guessing by the breed, I’m gonna say... Australia?”

Joan gave her partner a look at that, clearly unimpressed by the joke. “I’m serious, Zoey! I don’t even know if I’ve paid for her! And, of course, she had to be delivered right before I was supposed to meet you for lunch...” She shook her head, picking at the food she’d bought them both for lunch. “I was going to take you to that new Italian place.”

Zoey’s eyes went wide at that. “The... The super expensive place?”

Joan nodded.

“Oh.” Zoey didn’t know what else to say. “You really don’t have to, Joan. I, I mean, I’m fine with a picnic. Actually, I think I might prefer it. Not- not that I don’t like going out to eat with you, but it doesn’t have to be fancy restaurants all the time.”

Joan looked like she was about to say something then, but her phone buzzed and she rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Probably someone calling me back for a meeting-” She frowned when she saw the message. “Uh. It’s my dog guy.” She blinked, reading the message silently. “Huh. Apparently I did order Prada here.”

Zoey wasn’t surprised by that. Just a little confused. “I thought you’d gotten rid of your dog guy? You know, after Burberry and Gucci showed up? I mean, this will be your fifth dog, Joan. You’re outnumbered five to one in your own house!”

“I cancelled the subscription, I didn’t fire my dog guy,” Joan clarified, before fixing Zoey with a look. “Do the dogs bother you?”

That made the younger woman frown. “Uh, no? I love dogs. It just... It seems like a lot, Joan, particularly given how much you’re working right now.”

Joan sighed then. “I know. I know. No more dogs from now on. I’ll fire my dog guy tomorrow.” Then, she held out a box of expensive-looking chocolate truffles. “Chocolate?”

The fourth time: Cartier

“Ok, so I lied.”

The defeated look on Joan’s face, coupled by the Great Dane puppy she held under one arm made a smile blossom across Zoey’s lips despite what the puppy signalled.

“Joan,” Zoey said then, trying to adopt a serious tone even as she wanted to laugh at the sight of her partner with such an adorable puppy, “I thought we agreed no more dogs right now?”

“We did,” Joan nodded furiously in agreement, “and I absolutely intended to stick to that. But I kind of didn’t... I didn’t fire my dog guy, ok? I lied about letting him go.”

Thankful that the office was pretty much deserted due to the lateness of the hour, Zoey sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “So you didn’t fire your dog guy like we discussed?”

“No,” Joan admitted, “and I’m really sorry about it. But it turns out he was so pleased that I’d decided to keep him on that, well, he gave me Cartier here.” She indicated the puppy dangling under one arm then.

“Your dog guy gave you a free dog for keeping him on?” Zoey clarified, not entirely sure what to make of it.

“I tried telling him that we’d said no more dogs for the time being, but it would have been rude not to accept the gift.” Joan moved towards Zoey’s desk. “We don’t have to keep him, Zoey. I know we agreed that five dogs is enough. But...Well, Tomford’s been sick, and it feels so quiet in the house while he’s at the vet’s, and-”

“Joan, I love you, but you have four other dogs at home. And besides, we’re picking Tomford up tomorrow, and I’m not sure how he’ll feel about a puppy running around the place.”

“He doesn’t mind Prada or Gucci,” Joan said, although Zoey could tell be her tone that she knew her argument was weak.

“He’s used to them, Joan. He’s lived with them for ages. I mean, I’m not a dog, maybe Tomford will be fine with another puppy. And I know that you’re stressed out about him not being well. But seriously, you have to tell your dog guy not to get you any more dogs for, like, the next six months.”

Joan’s shoulders slumped at that, but she nodded. “I guess you’re right.” She looked around then, apparently only just noticing how quiet the fourth floor was. Seeing they were virtually alone, she looked back to Zoey with a soft smile on her face. “I love you.”

Zoey smiled back. “I love you too. Why don’t you wait downstairs, I’m nearly done.”

Joan moved towards the elevators then, before pausing and turning around again. “Does this mean I get to keep Cartier?”

The fifth time: Dolce & Gabbana

“Joan? Care to explain?”

Zoey Clarke stared at her partner, waiting calmly for a response. It wasn’t that Joan was twenty minutes late to movie night. It was why she was twenty minutes late to movie night.

“I told you I was getting another dog,” Joan reminded her, a little put-out. “You knew what I was doing.”

“Yes,” Zoey agreed, folding her arms across her chest and surveying the two puppies under Joan’s arms. “But you said one. I’m counting two. Did you buy two dogs without telling me?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Joan said, rolling her eyes. “I only ordered one. But, apparently, they’re inseparable and had to come as a pair. I got the other one free.”

“You got a ‘buy-one-get-one-free’ offer on German Shepherds?”

“Ugh,” Joan huffed. “Yes! Why is that so hard to understand?”

Ignoring her partner’s annoyance, Zoey arched an eyebrow. “What exactly are you going to do with two more dogs?”

At that, the brunette scoffed. “Uh, feed them, train them, look after them?”

“But Joan, you’ve already got four dogs! I know you’re upset about losing Tomford and Hermés so close together, but this is kind of ridiculous.”

Frowning, Joan looked to the two puppies she held. She surveyed them for several long moments before letting out a reluctant sigh. “I’ll call my dog person tomorrow. Tell him I don’t need any more.”

Zoey gave her a small smile. “Good.” She looked to the two puppies. “They’re cute. What are you calling them?”

At that, Joan grinned. “They’re brother and sister,” she informed her partner. “Zoey, meet Dolce and Gabbana.”

The first time: Armani

When the knock on her apartment door came, Zoey rushed to answer it. Joan was already ten minutes late to pick her up for their date, and the last thing she wanted was for them to get accosted by Mo and be even later.

“You’re here- Joan?”

Zoey blinked, as Joan breezed into the apartment in a gorgeous black dress. However, her eyes were instead on the live animal clutched under Joan’s arm.

“Joan,” Zoey repeated, “is that a bear cub?”

“Huh?” Joan asked, before glancing at the brown, furry animal under her arm. “Oh, yeah. I think so. The man claimed it wasn’t, but it sure as hell isn’t a dog.” She plopped the animal onto Zoey’s couch then. “Can I leave him here?”

“W- Wha-” Zoey spluttered, wide-eyed and still staring at the blinking bear cub.

“Just while we’re on the date,” Joan continued then. “I mean, we have reservations at that new Italian place, and you have no idea who I had to kill to get them.” She looked at the bear. “He’ll be fine for a few hours.”

“Joan, we can’t leave him in the apartment!” Zoey argued.

The older woman frowned. “It’s only for two, three hours tops. Besides, he’s tiny. He’s not going to do much damage.” She looked around at the decor. “Although there’s not much to damage...”

“Joan!”

“Oh, Zoey, Armani will be fine! Just put some water down for him.” Then, she headed for Zoey’s kitchen.

“Armani? You named the bear Armani?” Zoey followed her partner, wide-eyed.

“Yes. Why, did you have a better suggestion?” Joan pulled a bowl from a cupboard and filled it with water, before heading back into the sitting room and placing it on the floor.

Zoey hurried after her, baffled at the conversation they had to have. “Joan, you can’t keep him. He’s a wild animal! Or, well, if he’s not wild then he’s been stolen from a zoo! Either way, he can’t live with you.”

“I know,” Joan shrugged. “I would have sorted it, but I was already running late, and the man kept insisting he was a dog even though he wasn’t, so I thought ‘to hell with it!’ and brought him with me.”

Exasperated, Zoey threw her hands up in the air. “So you paid the guy?”

Joan waved off her concern, though. “Eh, wasn’t much. Only $500 or so.”

“You bought a bear, Joan! I’m pretty certain that’s illegal.”

“Then I’ll pay the fine and give Armani to a zoo or something. Zoey, I don’t intend to keep him. I’m not stupid.”

“But you named him Armani!”

“Because it suits him. Now, are we going to continue arguing about Armani, or are we going to dinner?”

Before Zoey could respond to that, Mo breezed into the apartment.

“I thought you two had a hot date? Why are you here, arguing about fashion designers- Oh, hello...” Mo trailed off at the sight of the animal on Zoey’s couch.

“Joan accidentally bought a bear,” Zoey explained with a sigh, folding her arms across her chest.

“I ordered a dog,” Joan clarified.

Mo winced. “Well, that’s not a dog.” He considered the animal for a moment. “Cute, though!”

At that, Joan grinned. “Isn’t he? Zoey doesn’t want to leave him alone in the apartment, though.”

Mo brightened then. “Oh, well I can look after him.”

Zoey arched an eyebrow at her friend. “You want to look after a bear cub for the night?”

“Sounds like fun,” Mo shrugged, seating himself on Zoey’s sofa next to a baffled Armani. “Besides, how many people get to look after a real life bear cub?”

Zoey stared for a moment, trying to process exactly what was going on, before shaking her head in frustration. “Fine,” she said, grabbing Joan’s hand. “But the minute we get back, we’re calling animal control, or the zoo, or something. We’re not keeping a bear.”

She tugged Joan towards the door then, ignoring her partner as she called “Bye, Armani!” to the animal. As she turned to close the door behind her, she just had time to see Mo lean down towards the cub.

“You and I are going to have a lot of fun, Armani!”

Rolling her eyes, Zoey slammed the door shut and tugged Joan down the stairs.

#zep fic #zoey x joan #zoey clarke #joan bennett #zoeys extraordinary playlist #my fic

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justasparkwritings · 5 years ago

Text

The 1: Well Enough Alone

Previous: Making It Count

Pairing: Hoseok X Reader

Genre: Slice of Life / Angst / Strangers to Lovers / FWB

Rating: NC15

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, Mentions of Recreational Drug Use, Mentions of Consensual Sex

Summary: Hoseok returns to New York to make sense of the mess he’s made.

Listen: the 1 by Taylor Swift

The beginning of summer in New York was a mixture of heat and stench, the smells of the city rotting under the suns unrelenting gaze. Summer in the city was a mixture of absolute hell and immense pleasure, as rooftop parties, pool gatherings and air conditioning entangled themselves with the sweat and grime of the subway. It was your favorite season, sun dresses and eyelet shorts with chunky sandals and sunglass fashion was enough to tide you through until fall.

It also meant that Hoseok would be returning, his first time back since your tryst in January. You decided to meet at the bar, and you hoped that you’d fall back into the ease and comfort of your first romantic escapade.

You stepped into the bar, the summer sun illuminating the typically dark and dingy business. You turned your head, craning to see the brilliant smile of Hoseok, only to come up short.

“Looking for someone?” A man said, arm slipping around your waist. You turned; eyes wide.

“Hobi!” You called, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him to you. He laughed cheerfully and inhaled your shampoo, the scent bringing him back to whispers over tequila and scratches in the night. He held you tight, savoring the comfort of your familiarity.

“I missed you, Y/N.”

“I missed you, too,” You blushed as you pulled away from him.

“Shall we?” He gestured towards the bar and you moved to take two seats in the corner, far from the growing crowd but close to the air conditioning. He left briefly to get drinks, and when he came back, he winked as he handed you your glass.

“Manhattan Goes Hollywood,” He said, taking a sip, “not as good as yours.”

“You remember that?”

“I remember a lot of things,” He said. You blushed again. “Did you break our promise?”

“My promise to you? No, I didn’t.” You said.

“So tell me, what adventures did you go on?” Ho-Seok didn’t stop smiling.

“I went to Rome,” You informed him.

“No way,” He was surprised.

“I did, I got lost and had to ask no less than five strangers in broken Italian how to get back to my hotel.”

“Did you go alone?”

“My friends and I went, but we took a day to explore the sites we wanted to see, alone. Katie went to Verona, Emily went on an olive oil tour. I went to see the Saint Valentine skull and got lost.”

“No!”

“Yeah, it was awful, I had several panic attacks,” You sipped your drink, the alcohol warming your already too hot skin.

“But you made it back,” Hoseok tipped his glass to you, humor in his eyes.

“Yes, I made it back before dark, but barely,” You laughed, embarrassed at your blunder.

“What else did you do?” He was egging you on, daring you to share wild escapades you’d had while he was touring, the ultimate adventure.

“I took molly at a Kim Petras concert in Bushwick,” You were unsure how he’d respond to your foray into illicit drugs. In true Hoseok fashion, his shock came across in a raucous laugh.

“You didn’t!”

“I did, it was, euphoric,” You said.

“I can imagine,” He responded, eyes veiled with an emotion you couldn’t recognize. “You didn’t text me though.”

You bit your lip. There were unclear boundaries in your relationship, this cat and mouse, never sure what was okay and what wasn’t, putting things out into the universe to see what would stick, often coming up short as he crossed time zones and continents. By texting him, he meant purposefully seeking him out. Not the snapchats, drunken messages late at night or voice messages sent. Hoseok meant you hadn’t texted him or sought him out when you realized you’d be in Europe at the same time. He meant you didn’t reach out when you saw something that reminded you of him, or when you heard BTS in the speakers at Target. You’d written the texts, you’d almost hit send dozens of time, but each time you stopped yourself. Hoseok didn’t want a relationship. He wasn’t interested in settling down. It didn’t matter if you felt a connection to him, if your heart wanted his every day. He made it clear in January, no matter how many times you turned his words, his actions, over in your mind, you came to the same conclusion.

You were both playing the game, but only one of you could win.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to,” You said, eyes unable to move from his.

“I did,” He said.

“You didn’t text either,” You reminded him.

“I know,” He said, eyes darting to your lips.

You stayed like that, unmoving, eyes trying to communicate what had happened in the months since you’d been in each other’s orbit.

“You saved the voice messages,” You said.

“So did you,” Hoseok countered. It was moot point. There was no upper hand.

“Do you want to get out of here?” You asked, ice saturating your drink, the unrest in your body making you uncomfortable.

“Your place?” He questioned.

“You’re forward,” You forced a laugh, a poor attempt at breaking some of the tension.

“We don’t have to-

“I know,” You stood.

“We can but, I’m happy just being,”

“Together,” you finished.

“Yes,” He nodded.

You nodded in response before standing up and much like before, your hands found each other’s as you guided him back to the street. Hoseok looked left and right, before glancing down at you.

“Are you trying to navigate us, or just being cute?”

“Can’t I be both?”

“Sure, Hoseok, sure,” You laughed again, guiding him down the familiar streets to your apartment. “How long are you here for?”

“Four days,” He said.

“Doing?”

“A photo shoot, somethings for MTV, Today Summer Concert series,”

“Holy fuck, how did I forget?” You stopped in the middle of the street, staring at Hoseok. “Friday, right?”

“Yes,”

“That’s so exciting! It’s going to be a fucking madhouse!” You were giddy, new BTS content? Yes, please.

“I know, I’m excited,” He took your excitement and leveled up. Euphoria seeping through his chuckles.

“How are the guys feeling?” You asked.

“Good, excited to perform again,” He said, energy flowing freely between you.

“It’s not like it’s been years since you performed.”

“No, but you still miss it after a week or two off,” Ho-Seok said.

Hoseok had a few weeks off… why didn’t he come to New York sooner? YOU’RE NOT HIS GIRLFRIEND, yelled the voices of Emily and Katie.

“What are you going to perform?” You asked, pulling yourself back to him.

“I can’t tell you that,” He laughed again.

“Please?” You begged, bottom lip jutting out, eyes swelling.

“What do I get in return?” Hoseok’s tone was teasing, you both knew he didn’t want anything from you.

“What do you want?” You asked. You had reached your apartment, and as you walked up the two flights of stairs, Hobi thought about what exactly he was trying to get from you. He didn’t want anything, and yet, he felt like he wanted everything from you and with you. He had kept your voice messages and wouldn’t delete your voicemails. He had a file of screenshots of drunk texts you’d sent, confessions late at night… He couldn’t count the number of times he reached to text you… the phone calls and facetimes he’d said were an accident but were really his feeble attempt at reaching out to you. All he wanted was to talk to you, to tell you about the shows, to fly you to him, to talk to you, to be with you. But he couldn’t.

“Come to the show on Friday,” He offered.

“What?” Your heart stood still.

“Come to the show, I’ll put you on the list.” He tried to brush it off like it was nothing, an innocent outing.

“Hoseok, would the guys be okay with that? Is that allowed?” Your mind began to race with possibilities.

“Why not? Yes, it’s allowed, we can hang out after,” He shrugged.

“Okay,” You said hesitantly.

“Yeah?” His smile was back.

“Yeah!” You smiled.

Hoseok pulled you to him, first in a hug, then his lips found yours. He missed the way you tasted, the way your fingers scrunched around his shirt, holding him to you by the thread count. He missed the sounds you made, the warmth he felt in your embrace. He’d missed you.

Hoseok slipped out before you awoke, a kiss on your cheek and a note on your nightstand. He’d have management send a car for you on Friday morning and bring you to the Plaza to watch. You’d get brunch with the guys after, some secluded five-star restaurant that the team had arranged. You were impressed that he’d scribbled this much before 6AM, and more impressed that he’d found a sticky note in your clusterfuck of a desk.

As you sat with your girlfriends the next day at lunch, you relegated your previous escapades.

“He’s your international fuckbuddy,” Katie said, sipping on her espresso.

“Isn’t that the best of all the worlds?” Emily asked.

“I think?” You said, unconvinced.

“You think? He fucks you when he’s in town, then it’s no strings attached the months he’s gone. What’s wrong with that?” Katie prodded.

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” You said shrugging.

“You’ve caught feelings,” Emily said.

“I’m just not sure that that’s what this is,” You dipped your toe in the water of their judgement.

“Does he call you when he’s gone?” Katie pressed.

“Sometimes,”

“And you text often?” Emily asked.

“Often enough,” You said.

“Aren’t you just strangers who fuck? I don’t understand this confusion,” Katie said, eyes narrowing.

“I don’t know if that’s all it is,” You tried to explain.

“What would give you an idea that you’re anything other than American pussy?” Katie asked.

“The way he looks at me, and the things he’s says… He waxes poetic every time we’re together,” You told them.

“To get you into bed?” Emily asked.

“Why would an international idol fuck with me?” You questioned, more force behind your words than you’d intended.

“You’re hot and intelligent?” Katie offered.

“Beautiful and charismatic?” Emily added.

“I just mean, he could be fucking anyone, right? But he’s sleeping with me on the off days he’s in New York. He says things… He doesn’t treat me like a fuck buddy,” You were growing flustered and upset. Couldn’t they understand what you were hinting at?

“Other than only fucking you when he’s in town?” Katie laughed; disbelief written across her face.

“And barely speaking to you otherwise?” Emily said, unlocking her phone to check her emails.

“Never mind,” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m just trying to understand-

“I don’t want to talk about it,” You said, disappointment in your eyes.

You’d shared almost every detail of your relationship with Ho-Seok. From how his hands felt on your body to the things he’d whispered to you as you laid in bed. They’d told you your relationship was nothing more than sex, that Ho-Seok was far too busy and important to want anything else from you.

If you thought about it rationally, it made sense. But in your heart, as you looked into his eyes, or read his texts, or saw the number of missed facetime calls you shared, you knew it was more. There was something there in his gaze, in his words, in his kiss. Why else had he promised that you’d see one another again, the next time he was in New York?

This was your mindset as you stepped out of the chauffeured car at the Today Show. The whir of the crew and BTS handlers buzzing as they prepped for the performance overwhelmed your senses as you were guided to where the men were.

“Y/N!” Hoseok called, moving from a conversation with Namjoon to hug you. The men glanced at you, taking in your appearance as Ho-Seok spoke to you. “You’re here! It’s going to be so great.”

Your smile faltered, you hadn’t expected a kiss, on the lips or cheek, but a brief hug? Hadn’t he been in your bed two nights ago, moaning your name, coming undone inside you? The prying eyes made you uncomfortable as you glanced around at the men trying to focus before their early show. The energy was electric, caffeine and adrenaline mixing with the vibe of an early summer morning in the greatest city in the world. It was intoxicating.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” Hoseok called, looking at his six bandmates. “You can introduce yourselves later.”

The men were guided to the stage, where they were introduced and began their performance. You’d never seen them this close, and were in awe of every note, every step, every movement. Ho-Seok commanded the stage, oozing talent and sex appeal as he led the group through routine after routine. You were equal parts amazed and so turned on. You recognized his hip thrust, the slight twerk of his ass, the furrow in his brow. His voice was gorgeous, clear and strong over the throngs of screaming ARMY. Who wouldn’t want something more with him?

Your mind was hazy as they came off the stage, interview segments completed. Ho-Seok crashed into your arms, holding you tight.

“You were so fucking good,” You said laughing. He laughed to, merriment filling the dressing room.

“All for you,” He said, resting his sweaty forehead against yours.

“Ew, you’re so sweaty,” You said.

“That’s not what you said the other night when you were sticking to me.”

“Two can play that game,” You replied, eyes squinting.

“Oh?” He asked, daring you to say something in a room filled with his brothers.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice your hips, or that furl of your brow,” Your words were hushed, an intimate conversation between lovers.

“Mm, recognized them, eh?” He smirked before untangling himself from you. “Give us a bit, we’ll go to brunch.”

“Okay,” You said, and you stood still, watching Ho-Seok walk towards the showers as his hand slowly slipped from yours.

The other men moved around you, showering, changing, thanking staff and wrapping up their time at the Today Show. It was the highest viewed concert series, with the largest audience that the Today Show had seen since One Direction and BTS’ last foray in the summer heat.

After thanking the hosts and signing a few merch items, BTS left, you in tow, to pile into a few vans headed for brunch. Ho-Seok insisted in taking a separate car, just the two of you, or at least it was until Jin decided he needed to chaperone.

“Oh, yeah, I hear this place is good, I did some research,” Jin said as the car moved through Manhattan.

“Mm, I’m starving,” Hoseok commented. His fingers were wound in yours, and your bodies were close together, shoulders touching.

“Y/N, what are you going to get?” Jin asked.

“Maybe eggs, but I’m kind of feeling waffles,”

“And a mimosa,” Hoseok laughed.

“Oh, bottomless,” You said giggling.

“Mostly champagne,” Hoseok said.

“With a drop of orange,” You added.

“Your favorite,” He glanced at you, smile crinkling his eyes. He remembered.

The three of you piled out of the car and were ushered quickly into the restaurant, Hoseok’s hand still in yours. As you sat down, Hoseok on your right, Namjoon on your left, you took in the Bangtan. Their striking beauty was blinding. How each of them had managed to find their way to Big Hit and stick it out was beyond you. There couldn’t possibly be anyone in the world more beautiful than them.

“Y/N, tell us, how is your friendship with J-Hope going?” Namjoon asked as he sipped on his Bloody Mary.

“I’m impressed you stay friends with him,” Yoongi muttered.

“I’m an excellent friend!” Hoseok exclaimed.

“It’s going well, yeah, I’m glad we get to see each other when he’s in town,” You smiled at the men, hoping they won’t notice how flustered you’d become.

“He’s a good friend, always so optimistic,” Taehyung added.

“Except when he’s blasting music, dancing at four thirty in the morning,” Yoongi commented.

“It was one time!” Jungkook said, coming to his hyung’s defense.

“Why were you even awake?” Jimin asked.

“I was preparing for –

“You barely slept,” Yoongi said, voice serious.

“Nervous energy,” Hoseok responded.

“The performance was amazing,” You interjected, noting the tension between the two men. “I love how you pull out your back catalogue for every performance.”

“We fight about it, a lot,” Namjoon said.

“Only because some of us are wrong,” Jimin said.

“You’re just mad because –

“Let’s not fight when we have a guest,” Namjoon interjected.

“Yeah, we can fight on our flight to Brazil,” Jin said. “Plenty of hours to bicker,”

“Y/N, do your other friends like Ho-Seok?” Taehyung asked.

“Um, they’ve never met,”

“They haven’t? But he spends so much time with you, talking to you, about you,” Jin rambled.

“Um, yeah, it’s just never lined up,” You took a large swig of champagne, “I’m sure they’d like him.”

“Unless he’s dancing at-

“Shut up Yoongi!” Jimin said through laughs.

“So Brazil, what will that be like?” You asked.

As the boys launched into their excitement for returning to South America, you sat and lost track of your thoughts. How many times had they called you a friend, said they were glad Ho-Seok had a friend like you, wanted to become your friend. Friend.

Is that what you were? You grew uncomfortable as the conversation lingered on, the men laughing and Namjoon translating quickly the funny things they were saying. Hoseok kept an arm around your shoulders, eating with his non dominant hand, just to hold you close. You felt no comfort in his gesture as your anxiety grew.

“They think we’re friends?” You asked, Hoseok’s hand in yours as the car took off towards Brooklyn.

“Yeah, aren’t we?” He countered.

“I don’t know, do friends know what it’s like to be inside the other?” You scoffed.

“Y/N,” He said, cocking his head toward the driver.

“I’m just asking,” You responded.

“Can we talk about this at your apartment?” He pleaded.

“I’d prefer to talk about it now,” You turned to face him.

“We’re friends,” He was treading lightly, you could hear it in the breath he put into the word ‘friends’.

“Aren’t we more?” Your voice betrayed your cool demeanor.

“I, I don’t think we can be,” Hoseok said.

You turned to face forward, hand slowly slipping out of his. You made a list of every sad song you wanted to listen to as you drank the half open bottle of Prosecco in your fridge, tears inevitable. Ho-Seok didn’t say anything, didn’t try to bring you back to him. The gravitational pull had been severed and you both were spinning.

“Thanks for uh, making sure I got home, and for letting me spend the day with you,” You said, unbuckling your seatbelt.

“Of course, can I walk you up?” His eyes were sad.

“No, I don’t think that’d be a good idea,” You said opening the door to the summer heat.

“Y/N,” He was searching for you.

“Hoseok, have a safe flight, okay?”

He leaned in to place a kiss on your lips, but you turned, lips landing on your cheek. Getting out of the car, you didn’t look back.

Why couldn’t you have left well enough alone?

Next: Never Gonna Grow

6 notes · View notes

agustdef · 5 years ago

Text

Knucklehead - Part 2

Pairing: Yoongi x OC [From Here & Now]

Genre: Idol!AU; Fluff; Some Angst

Word Count: 14.3k

Warning: Some angst. Some language. Mention of an almost panic attack.

Rating: PG15

Banner Marker: @shadowsremedy

Lovely Beta Reader: @shadowsremedy

Author’s Note: So, this is the second and final part of a two-shot for the Bangtan Scenery ‘April Showers Bring May Flowers’ collab. This is Part One of it.

Summary: Sometimes you have to work a little harder to rebuild what was broken.

Kendall dreaded most of her nightly facetimes with Yoongi and she hated that. But the discomfort and fear that came with them just wouldn’t let up, even when six months had passed since the incident. Even as they both got comfortable with each other again and the guilt eased on either side. There was just this lingering voice in her head that said she needed to be careful before she messed up again. Messed up and really ruined their relationship, which was the last thing she ever wanted and feared she would if she slipped up in the slightest.

That fear was why two hours before every call she went through a checklist of things that needed to be done. She tried to check it as she did each task throughout the day, but sometimes she forgot one or two things. And if something on that list hadn’t been done, she’d do it, so she didn’t have to lie about doing it if he asked or if the conversation led there. Lying would help no one, especially herself.

The night of the last call before she’d see him in person - the first time in three months - was beyond nerve wracking. She’d gotten caught up in work and was left with an hour to get everything checked off. That meant reheating her dinner and finishing it off, doing a quick fifteen-minute workout to compensate for how little she’d been able to leave her desk, and showering.

By the time the call came in she was still working on washing her face and answered just before she could rinse off the face wash.

“Hello?” Yoongi said.

Ken was out of frame which probably confused him, but once she’d dried her face the phone was adjusted so that he could see her.

“Hi,” she said.

Yoongi stared at her for a moment and said nothing, which made her stomach uneasy. But before the nerves could truly settle in, he smiled at her. One of those soft, genuine ones that expressed he was happy in some capacity. It soothed the discomfort that started to brew in her stomach and mind.

“Are you just getting in?” he asked.

Kendall shook her head but didn’t respond right away as she poured toner into her hands to pat into her skin. Once that was done, she turned her attention back to him.

“No, I came back around five. But I took a nap and it lasted longer than I intended it to. Which would’ve been fine if I didn’t wake up to Ara asking for me to do some last-minute edits before she sent off my manuscript. So, I finished that in like two hours, but got so distracted trying to rephrase a sentence that it was later than I intended to finish.”

Every word she said was careful, Kendall didn’t want to risk going on a tangent and saying the wrong thing the wrong way. Even if it were a simple misunderstanding that could be cleared up in seconds, she wanted to avoid it.

But even with how she worded it Yoongi frowned at her.

“Did you eat?”

Kendall nodded; her eyes focused on the mirror in front of her as she applied a vitamin c serum.

“Yes. That’s why I needed the nap and I ate again a little after I woke up.”

She’d hoped it would end there, but of course it didn’t.

“But why so late for lunch?” Yoongi asked.

Without missing a beat, she answered. “I started my day later than usual by waking up at eleven. Breakfast wasn’t eaten until almost noon, so lunch wasn’t eaten until four. Plus, it was a work lunch thing with Marcus, which meant I was going to eat more than I should anyway.”

That left him silent and though it was killing her, Kendall refused to look at her phone again until she finished the rest of her skincare. It gave her time to steel her nerves if he was going to be upset with her.

When she finally did look his gaze was elsewhere and she realized he was talking to someone else. He’d pulled the phone away, so she just simply hadn’t heard him or the other person speaking. And that was much better than him silently being upset with her. Especially since the last time he’d gone that quiet on her was the day before he barely spoke to her for a month.

By the time he started paying attention again she’d moved from the bathroom to the bedroom, snuggled comfortably under her blanket. For a moment he appeared thrown off by the change in scenery, but he bounced back quickly.

“Uh, what were we talking about?” he mumbled, but before she could answer he was talking again. “Oh, yeah. So, you ate. That’s… good.”

The hope that his momentary distraction would bring a subject change was gone and she deflated a little. But she didn’t want him to notice, so she kept her face neutral and nodded. If he caught on, he didn’t say anything about that, just stared at her again with his expression making him appear deep in thought.

It was so freaking awkward, and Kendall didn’t know what to say or do, so she simply turned her attention to flipping through Netflix. It was about a minute or so later that she found something to rewatch and the words to say.

“So, what do you have planned for today?” she asked.

“Uh, we leave for the airport in an hour. They changed our flights last minute, so I’m just working on something until Jin says the van is here. He came over for breakfast.”

“Oh, makes sense,” she mumbled.

Though she’d come up with a question to get things moving her brain hadn’t thought far ahead enough to have another one ready. Thankfully, Yoongi was ready to take control of the conversation.

“Did you finish the season without me? Don’t think I didn’t see Netflix reflect being four episodes ahead and then back again a day later,” he accused.

That took away Kendall’s other worries as she tried to lie her way out of saying she’d binged almost to the end. Watching shows together meant no skipping ahead at all and it was a punishable offense. There was no way she was going to outright admit it, at least not without putting up a fight.

And so, for the rest of their call they talked about that and then a few songs that Yoongi stumbled upon. He thought she’d like them, so he played them, and they listened together, chatting here and there.

Forty-five minutes later Jin came to get Yoongi since their ride was there. Yoongi waved him off and then went to say bye to Kendall.

“I’ll text you before takeoff and when we land, okay?” he said.

Kendall nodded. “I’ll probably be at this work thing when you guys get here, so I’ll see you after or the next day.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said.

After throwing her a quick finger heart Yoongi hung up and Kendall was alone with her thoughts. And her thoughts weren’t pretty. They lingered on the memory of his expression when she mentioned how her eating went that day and the one when she brought up the work event she had to attend. It was the same expression he gave her every time eating, rest, or working came into play. The worry was etched strongly into his features and she appreciated that he cared, but she missed not having to see it so much. Not having to see that fear that she wasn’t taking care of herself. Not having to see the lack of trust in her ability to function on a healthy level.

She understood why, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

The clear lack of faith in her was a dagger to the heart and she couldn’t stop the tears that flowed because of it. It wasn’t surprising though since she often cried herself to sleep after their calls.

The first day and a half of the boys being in California was spent relaxing around the house the company rented for their stay. Usually they’d have schedules almost immediately, but for once they were allowed a bit more freedom. And that freedom meant that they stayed in the house and only left their room’s when someone mentioned a group movie watch.

Yoongi barely wanted to leave his room for that. Kendall had to force him to get up or he would’ve stayed cuddled with her like they had been since she’d arrived. Which she clearly didn’t mind but told him that moving about and interacting with others for a few hours would help with the jet lag a little. Yoongi didn’t agree with that, but he gave in after she gave him several kisses.

That was how she got him to do most things during that day of relaxation. And when the next morning came and she needed to leave for something he required more kisses than either of them could count.

In truth he would’ve let her go after the first two, but then he saw that she was willing to continue giving them until he’d release her, so he got greedy. But after five minutes of being held hostage she broke free and left him all alone. He hoped sleep would come to him again, but after half an hour of nothing he was forced to get up.

After a brief shower and change he stumbled down the stairs to the living room where he found a few of the others loitering around. They were all dressed and looked ready to leave, which confused him.

“Where are you going?” he asked, making his presence known.

Jungkook looked his way first, his eyes widening from their half-closed state from when Yoongi entered the room. The kid looked like he was ready to pass out at any second.

“We’re going out for breakfast, remember?” Jin said.

Yoongi was at a loss because he couldn’t recall that ever being the plan. He’d expected at least half the day spent in the house until their schedule later on. He was ready to say he didn’t remember, but then the memory of Halsey texting Namjoon about going out during the movie came back to him.

“Oops.”

At that Jin rolled his eyes and then his focus went back to his phone. Yoongi joined him on the couch and messed around on his own phone, returning texts, and checking social media. After a few minutes everyone was downstairs and ready to go.

They piled into two separate vans and headed to wherever Halsey had set up the breakfast.

As they went Yoongi’s mind drifted to Kendall. He missed her, but he mostly wondered what she was doing. She hadn’t divulged the details, just said there was some work that she needed to do or something of that nature. Yoongi hoped she ate before she got too busy and planned to text her about it until his attention was drawn elsewhere.

“Did you get a chance to look at the thing I told you about last night?” Hoseok asked Yoongi.

Again, Yoongi was left a little confused before his brain caught up. He really needed coffee or something if he was going to get through the day.

“No,” he said.

At that Hoseok sighed and pulled out his phone. He tapped around for a little while until something was pulled up. Then he handed Yoongi one of his air pods and waited until it was firmly in the elder’s ear before pressing play.

Yoongi sat back and listened, his mind focusing solely on the sounds from the headphones. It was a slow building instrumental and then suddenly there was the injection of Hobi’s usual style when the drop hit. There were some things he’d change, but he liked it. Actually, he loved it and that excitement made him forget that he was going to check on Kendall. He and Hobi dove into a deep discussion about what the goal was for it and a few tweaks that could help it along.

They were so in their own world that everyone had gotten out of the car and it took Jin coming back to knock on the window to get their attention. But that didn’t stop them. Even after they got out of the car, into the restaurant, and greeted Halsey they still were immersed in discussion. They even pulled in Joon at some point and the three of them were huddled in the booth typing things into their phones or writing them down on napkins.

They would’ve remained that way had Jimin not gotten annoyed and slapped the table a little. “Hey! We can’t keep telling the waitress we need more time.”

That gained their attention and a sheepish expression from all of them. After that they turned their attention to the menus and when the waitress showed up again, they were ready to order. Yoongi ordered coffee and the waitress must have seen how much he needed it because she returned with a large mug for him moments later.

With food orders out of the way everyone went into conversation.

“How much do you guys have to do before the Grammys?” Halsey asked.

At that they all groaned.

Namjoon huffed. “We have ten different interviews, performance practice for the Grammys and for another show, some random appearances here and there, plus some music to work on with some producers while we’re here. And let’s not get started about what comes after the awards.”

Halsey grimaced and tried to give some reassuring words, but nothing could be said that would alleviate all the tension they were feeling. Even Yoongi was feeling immense pressure when he usually handled it the best. Or at least appeared to handle it the best.

The more he sat and thought about the schedule Sejin showed them, the more he wished he was back in bed with Kendall again. That was infinitely better than most things, but definitely better than their packed schedule. You’d think that over time he’d get used to BigHit having them work so much, but that was far from the truth.

“Well, you have the parties to look forward to this time. I know you guys plan to go to one or two. And you’re going to the Roc Nation Brunch, right Yoongi?”

He nodded and chewed on his lower lip. The thought of the brunch didn’t ease his nerves, but it did get him to smile a little. He couldn’t help but look forward to going to an event that was bound to have many people whose music he admired.

“Yeah. Kendall decided to go this time and I’m going with her. We have to go see a stylist to finalize some things in a few days,” Yoongi said.

Halsey smiled. “You must be excited. I know a few of your favorite rappers were invited and a few artists you said you’d like to work with. And who want to work with you.”

All Yoongi could do was nod. He felt giddy just thinking about it and refused to be that outwardly happy in public. The place was mostly empty because of security reasons, but that was beside the point.

After he didn’t elaborate, the conversation turned to Halsey’s schedules. She was also performing and presenting at the Grammys, so they’d be seeing a lot of each other.

When the food arrived, silence reigned for a while unless someone had a comment or wanted to try something another person ordered. The more he ate the more Yoongi felt awake and like a functioning human being. Well, that and all the coffee he was consuming. He didn’t go too crazy because it would leave him jittery, but he had enough that he would be wide awake for several hours after the fact.

Just as they were finishing up though, a call brought everyone’s attention to Halsey. She gave a quick apology and walked away to answer it. When she came back, she was rolling her eyes and laughing.

“What?” Jungkook asked.

Halsey shook her head. “Nothing. Ken was calling me to ask about a few words in French because she needed them, and Google was of no help to her.”

Jungkook nodded, but then pursed his lips. “What is she doing anyway? I know I saw her leave the house earlier and she just mentioned she had something to do.”

After downing the rest of her water Halsey answered. “She had a writer’s club thing scheduled for today. They go to some cafe around here that a friend owns and write or brainstorm for a while. I think she said the session was going to be like five hours or so. She’s almost at the climax of her draft and was eager to get it done and over with.”

A weird feeling overtook Yoongi when she said that, but he tried to keep it at bay; he didn’t want to go down that train of thought. Doing that would only be taking two steps back in all the progress he made since the incident. It wasn’t like Kendall was spending all day there and she was with other people. People who were surely responsible enough to know when it was time to call it quits.

He refused to think about the possibilities of her slipping into old habits.

In his attempt to regain control of his thoughts he almost missed the cue to leave as everyone got up. He followed behind in a careful manner and tried to keep his focus on them and what was happening in the moment. There was mention of shopping around for an hour or two which was approved by Sejin. He didn’t need to buy anything or necessarily want to, but he didn’t mind the distraction.

With the plan in place they headed out and got into their respective vans. As they drove down the street a sign caught Yoongi’s attention because the name was familiar, but he came up short on why. It wasn’t really important, so he didn’t try too hard to remember and found his attention moving to the other shops that they passed. A few were brands he was fond of or stores he wanted to check out, which overtook his whole not needing or wanting anything thought from before. If something caught his eye and he didn’t think the price was ridiculous then maybe he’d indulge.

That thinking kept him occupied for a while as they finally exited the cars and started going in and out of stores. Everyone kept the purchases small, except for Hoseok who seemed to find something in almost every store. The man could shop for days. And as always Yoongi indulged him, following him to each store and looking around until he was done.

An hour in as they stopped to grab something to drink at a Starbucks did something click in Yoongi’s head. The name on that sign was familiar because it was the one that Kendall’s friend owned and the place she usually did her gatherings.

And just like that Yoongi’s mind was drifting where it shouldn’t. To all the things that could go wrong if she hadn’t eaten or hydrated or didn’t have her wrist braces. To if she’d been working a lot in the days leading up and if she was on a deadline of any kind that she was hyper-focused on. To the way she looked leading up to the incident. To what she looked like when he’d found her passed out and when she lay unconscious in the hospital.

It drove him up the wall and he unconsciously pulled out his phone and texted her. The message was a simple check-in message, not something out of the ordinary. What was out of the ordinary though was the way he reacted when a few minutes passed and there was no response. There was a series of texts sent.

Yoongi: I just wanted to see if you were busy or we could talk for a second?

Yoongi: Just checking in on you

Yoongi: And I miss you

Yoongi: Hello?

Yoongi: Kendall…

The more he texted without response the more the worry settled into his chest and wouldn’t leave. Yoongi tried to be reasonable, but his brain just kept flashing images of her in the hospital.

That led to him calling her, to which he was also met with no response. Her voicemail said something about being out of touch for a few hours and getting back to the caller later.

That’s when he knew that he was being unreasonable. He knew that he needed to calm down and stop overthinking things. But by the time he’d taken a deep breath and pulled himself together he’d already led Hoseok and their security to a shop that was near the cafe. It was right next door.

When he noticed he stopped in his tracks.

Hoseok bumped into him because of the suddenness and started to grumble until he stood next to Yoongi and saw what he was looking at. From the look on his face it was clear he knew what was happening.

“Just pop in and say hi. Don’t say anything crazy to upset her.” He patted Yoongi on the shoulder and started towards the store with one of the guards.

Upsetting her was the last thing Yoongi wanted, but something about the way Hoseok said it made him feel weird. Like the younger man knew information that he didn’t, but he had no time to think that over. He was in broad daylight and needed to get a move on so not to draw attention.

So, with his guard in tow he walked over to the cafe, took a deep breath, and knocked. It took a few more knocks to get someone to come to the door and when they did it was a woman who looked very annoyed with him. Though the expression vanished after she clearly registered who it was.

“You’re here for Kendall?” she asked.

Yoongi nodded. “Was just coming to see her for a minute.”

The woman nodded and led them farther into the cafe after locking the door. They were instantly met with the stares of everyone who was there, well everyone except Kendall who was still in her own world. She had to have her arm slapped before she pushed her headphones off and paid attention. After glaring at the person who’d hit her, her eyes flitted over to Yoongi and widened.

Without a word she got up and walked over to him. “What are you doing here?”

Yoongi shrugged, trying to play it cool. “We were nearby doing some shopping and I remembered you mentioning this place, so I thought I’d swing by for a second. I missed you.”

That had Kendall narrowing her eyes at him. She grasped his hand and led him over toward the kitchen area of the cafe, directing his guard to take a seat.

Once they were alone, she turned to him with her brow raised. “So, you missed me and were in the area?”

Yoongi continued to try and play it cool, but when his eyes found the slightest things “off” about her he found it a struggle. There were slight bags under her eyes and the way she carried herself just presented this tired exterior. How had he not noticed how tired she was before?

After he realized he’d remained silent for too long he shook his head and cleared his throat. “Yeah, like I said we were around and as we were walking, we came this way and I thought I’d come see you while Hobi checked out his twentieth store.”

It took a moment, but then Kendall’s face relaxed as did her body. The defensive stance she took left her and Yoongi felt relieved that she was no longer seeing through him. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead ended up covering up a long yawn. That sent Yoongi into overdrive and though he was still careful he had to say something.

“You seem tired, baby. You sure you don’t need a nap?” he joked.

Kendall laughed, but was cut off by yet another yawn. Once that one was done, she groaned. “Maybe, I do.”

Yoongi thought that was a great opening. “How about you come take one with me?”

The thing was he miscalculated when the right time to say something like that was. Kendall froze after that and her defenses went back up. Yoongi watched as she went from calm to basically glaring at him.

He messed up.

Kendall took a deep breath before speaking. “I didn’t tell you what I was doing today or where I’d be. Meaning you heard it from Hals, which is fine it’s not like I was keeping a secret and I know you all were together when I called. So, none of that is a problem. And I didn’t make a fuss about you coming and disturbing this whole writing thing, something you know not to do unless it’s an emergency, because I missed you and hated having to leave this morning. So also, not a problem. But what is becoming a problem is you here lying to my face. So, tell me why you’re here, Yoongi.”

Yoongi was conflicted and wanted to play it off but lying to her would do more damage and he didn’t want that. Especially not in a place that wasn’t private where they could work out his brief moment of stupidity.

“We were in the area and that is why I came by. I wanted to check in on you. Make sure things were going okay and that you weren…”

She cut him off. “That I wasn’t pushing myself too hard?”

Shame filled him, but he nodded his head.

What he expected was for her to rant and rave about how tired she was of him doing that or being offended, but what he got instead were glossy eyes. He wanted to console her, but he didn��t know what to say or do. He felt out of his element.

“I haven’t properly written in two weeks because I had other work and didn’t want to overextend myself. Any writing I have done was edits here and there for Ara or just me taking a moment to go through the manuscript because I had down time. These next few weeks are crazy for me since everyone comes into town for the awards and I run around to see friends or enjoy sessions. This day was one of the few I was taking to sit and actually put words down. To make progress so I don’t feel shitty when things mellow out and I have more time to do things like write. And to hang out with friends I haven’t had the chance to see much of,” she said.

As she spoke Yoongi watched as her eyes became glossier and finally a tear or two slipped from them. Her voice also grew softer, and each word made her sound so disconnected from what she was saying. It broke his heart.

“Kendall,” he said, stepping closer to wipe the tears from her face.

Shaking her head, she took several steps back and used the sleeve of her - well his - sweater to get rid of the tears herself.

“You should go,” she said.

He wanted to comfort her, to apologize, but it wasn’t the right place and he’d already done enough. Nodding, he whispered a brief see you later and I love you before turning to leave. He didn’t even say anything as he went, just inclined his head so the guard would follow and left the cafe.

Hoseok emerged from the store seconds after and after one look at Yoongi’s face shook his head. Without a word they walked back to where the van waited for them.

Avoiding Yoongi was what Kendall wanted to do, but of course it was the one time one of his visits to California meant they’d be seeing a lot of each other. The boys had jam pack schedules that took them all over the city and some of those included pre-Grammy events. And Kendall was forced to go to those for networking purposes and sometimes solely to be some sort of representative for her company since most of the producers there were freelance.

So, after two days of dry text responses and refusing to go where he was, she was forced in the same room as him. Which would’ve been fine if she could ignore him the entire time or maintain her indifference, but they were in a public space. The slightest hint of trouble in paradise led to everyone and their mama knowing and having something to say about it. She’d already seen how people got after they’d both been having a bad day and didn’t seem particularly fond of anyone, let alone each other. Everyone was ready to hear that they’d broken up or something.

No one wanted that, so she’d had to suck it up and relinquish the hurt that she felt. It was hard, but she prepared herself mentally for it. That and the reminder that she only had to stay for a few hours and would be forced to mingle helped. The more talking to others the less time spent in his presence or so she hoped.

When she arrived at the event - an hour after it started - everything was in full swing. People had drinks and were talking to everyone and anyone they could cling to. It made her want to leave right that second, but she had an obligation; so, she grabbed a drink and allowed herself to be whisked away by the first person who approached her.

Thankfully, luck was on her side. The first person to grab her was an acquaintance she’d made while working on a song for a Bruno Mars album. She’d enjoyed their presence and they kept in touch some. He brought her over to a group of his friends - newer producers - and she hit it off with them instantly. They talked about themselves and projects they’d worked on. Two of them wanted to break into producing for international music and asked her how she’d gotten into working with K-pop artists on stuff.

The conversation was so nice that she’d pushed away her thoughts of worry and sadness, it held her focus. Though it only lasted an hour.

“Why are they staring at them like that?” Jess, one of the producers, asked.

That caused Kendall to pause mid-sentence to follow her gaze. Once she found what held her attention the feelings came flooding back to her, but they were quickly overshadowed by different ones. Off in the distance all the boys stood or sat around a table with one or two of their friends. But all around them clusters of people talked amongst each other but stared the boys down in a way that was uncomfortable on several levels.

Of course, there couldn’t be at one event they went to that people weren’t on their bullshit. They just didn’t know how to interact like normal humans, as if any of the boys would bite them or something.

Kendall turned back to the group, but they were already shooing her away. She reminded herself to get their contact info before she left the event and then made her way over to where the guys were.

As she walked over heads turned in her direction, but as soon as she made eye contact with those people they looked away and put some distance between the guys and themselves. It pleased her that they still remembered she’d come for anyone who did or said anything that upset any of them and she wouldn’t pull her punches.

And her glare was so effective that as she got closer to the boys everyone’s attention was actually focused on who they were talking to.

Once she reached the table, she greeted them all, but moved to Yoongi’s side immediately. They weren’t people known for large displays of public affection, but when out together they remained close. So, when she walked up, he laced his fingers in hers as soon as she reached for his hand and they smiled at each other.

The smiles were forced, but not necessarily fake. At least on Kendall’s end. She had a reason to smile, she was amongst friends and just left a wonderful conversation, but there were also reasons to not be that into it. First, she’d had to come and put a stop to people making the boys feel awkward. Second, as she noted that people weren’t blatantly staring or gossiping the hurt bubbled back up.

Maintaining eye contact with Yoongi long enough that she didn’t seem to be dodging his gaze was hard, but she managed it. When that awkward situation was done, she turned her attention to everyone else.

“How long have you guys been here?” she asked.

Namjoon glanced down at his watch. “A little after they started. Sejin wanted us to get here earlier to make sure we talked to somebody. That happened in the first ten minutes and now we’re just here for a while.”

Kendall nodded.

“How about you?” Jungkook asked.

“Oh, I was an hour late.”

At that they all rolled their eyes and she heard a few murmurs about how she was lucky she could just show up whenever. It made her laugh that they envied her when they were all at the event against their will for longer than they wanted to be.

After that small talk they all dove into discussing something Namjoon read and thought everyone else should read too. It was hard to tell him no when he was so passionate about something, so they all let him talk up the book. Kendall had to admit by the time he finished she planned to at least look it up.

But even as she attempted to give him most of her attention her gaze and mind continued to wander towards Yoongi. He was also listening intently, but every so often he’d glance her way with something that could’ve been akin to longing. And she wanted to give in but then her mind flashed back to two days before. The worry on his face and the way he’d tried to find a roundabout way to get her to leave her session early. But most of all the lack of trust in her being able to take care of herself. That hurt the most and though a part of her deemed it a valid worry of his, it didn’t take away the fact that she wasn’t okay with it and was upset. And no matter how much she reasoned with herself she couldn’t look past that. She couldn’t bring herself to talk it out either. Not yet.

And if forced to spend more time in that set up she would’ve bought the book Namjoon was talking about and given into Yoongi. But she was saved by the clearing of a throat into a mic. Everyone’s attention moved to the makeshift stage near the bar, watching and listening intently as the host introduced themselves. From there a few speakers went up and there was a newer artist who was nominated for a Grammy who performed. Kendall really liked their sound and made a mental note to check out more of their work.

After about an hour and a half of that everyone went back to conversing amongst themselves, but the crowd had seemingly grown. People were much closer to the group then they were before, and they seemed to be trying to talk to the boys more. Kendall wasn’t even the focus and she was overwhelmed, so she couldn’t imagine how they felt about it.

That is until she felt a hard squeeze to her hand. Glancing up she noted that Yoongi was nodding along to whatever the man in front of him was saying, but his body was tense. And from the way he grimaced every so often she could tell he wasn’t okay.

Too many people around with focus on him in a space he wasn’t comfortable in wasn’t a good combination. It led to small attacks and she wanted to avoid those.

Kendall had to interject.

Putting on a small smile she turned her attention to the man talking. “I’m sorry. I need to borrow him for a moment. So, if you would excuse us.”

There was no waiting for a response from him, she merely used their interlocked fingers to pull Yoongi away from the table and the crowd. As they went, she made eye contact with Sejin who nodded in understanding, but she didn’t stop walking until they were out of the main hall and inside an empty supply closet.

Once inside she turned so she was facing him, releasing his hand so both of hers could cup his face. He didn’t look at her at first, his eyes closed and his chest moving rapidly as he regulated his breathing. That hurt her heart and she felt the frustration brewing, but she kept it at bay. Leaning forward she pressed her forehead to his and her eyes fluttered shut. She started breathing deep and slow, her fingers caressing his cheeks. After a few seconds, his breathing matched hers and once she felt he was calm her eyes opened.

The second hers were open so were his. There was still a strong sense of unease in his expression, but he no longer looked on the verge of an attack. It gave her some relief.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

Yoongi nodded.

“Yoon. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Again, his eyes closed, and she was worried he was slipping into an attack, but when he opened them again, he appeared more at peace.

“I promise, baby,” he said, his voice scratchy.

She nodded, softly chewing on her lower lip for a moment.

“Do you want to leave? We can tell Sejin and I’m sure the boys are looking for an excuse to escape.”

“Please,” he said.

That was all Kendall needed before she was pulling out her phone. To her surprise Namjoon had already texted to say they were leaving and would head to where they were staying before meeting at her apartment. Yoongi had clothes at her place so there was no need for him to go back with them.

“They’re already gone. Is going back to mine okay?” she asked.

Yoongi opened his mouth to speak, but then he just nodded again. He was still clearly fighting off the effects of what almost happened.

Kendall wanted him out of there as soon as possible. So, she pressed a kiss to his nose and then grabbed his hand, leading them out to her car. And even after they had to let go of each other to get in, their hands found each other again once secured inside. She drove with their fingers intertwined, allowing Yoongi to use her hand as a distraction.

When they arrived at the apartment, she grabbed some things and took a shower in the guest bathroom. She wanted to stick to Yoongi’s side, but she also knew he needed some time to himself. No matter how much having people around helped a moment to collect yourself and work through it always helped more.

About half an hour after their arrival the boys showed up with food and Yoongi emerged from her bedroom swathed in a large hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. He didn’t say much of anything and no one pushed him to. They all ate their dinner in a comfortable silence while watching something Taehyung choose on the TV.

Though Kendall thought the night would remain calm the boys chose to play some video games and Mario Kart and Smash Bros got them real competitive. It was amusing to watch, but it made her happy because it’s what brought Yoongi out of his shell and got him to smile a little.

However, after three hours and them still going strong Kendall felt tired. No matter how much she tried her eyes wouldn’t remain open and it was time to throw in the towel.

She carefully got off the couch, catching none of their attention, and moved toward her bedroom. Before she disappeared though she turned around and clapped loudly, gaining everyone’s focus, and making someone lose.

“I’m going to bed. You can stay or you can go. You all know that I don’t care, and the extra blankets and pillows are where they always are.”

At that they nodded and refocused their attention on starting up the game. And Kendall made it to her bedroom, pushing back her blanket and once laid out she allowed it to consume her.

As she laid there and listened to the boys’ yell, she hoped it would be the thing to lull her to sleep, but nothing came. Her mind wandered, several subjects coming to the forefront as she dodged the one thing that was the real reason she was still up. It was persistent, always finding a way to weave itself into something else she was thinking about. After some time, it reached a point where she was in tears because she couldn’t shake it.

That vulnerability was all it needed to strike.

Her thoughts were the same every night. How life was so stressful and how she still felt in that weird limbo with Yoongi. And the recent incident didn’t help her at all. It made her feel like she was farther away from fixing things fully than she actually was. Made her think that Yoongi would never trust her in that aspect of her life ever again. And reminded her of how she’d failed herself in not seeing the signs of her downfall. Her therapist said that she couldn’t blame herself for that and she agreed with her, but that didn’t stop the thoughts from surfacing.

It was all too much and before she knew it all it took was the soft shouting of Yoongi to send her into a full-on sob. She wished she could stop it, but all that she could manage was maintaining her silence.

Kendall didn’t know how long she laid there crying to herself or when the boys stopped yelling at each other. The next time she became aware of anything besides what was going on in her head was when the bed dipped, and she was pulled into a chest.

Yoongi whispered softly that it was okay and that he was there while wiping her tears away. She wasn’t very present, but she heard him sniffle and that’s when the dam broke a little more. It wasn’t long before she felt tears that weren’t from her.

They both laid there and cried until sleep claimed them.

The next morning Yoongi woke up in the bed alone and tucked in. When he finally had the energy to venture out, he found Kendall in the kitchen with Jin preparing breakfast. They were in their own little world and he didn’t dare disturb that, even if he did have questions about how he’d found her the night before.

He greeted them, made his coffee, and found the other boys in the living room. They all appeared as disheveled as he felt, so the room plummeted into silence after brief good mornings were uttered. Everyone focused on the TV playing some show in front of them, but it didn’t really hold their attention. Or at least it didn’t hold Yoongi’s attention much.

After waking up Yoongi was always a bit out of it for a while, even as he functioned as if he were wide awake. It took some time - and some coffee - to get him to a point where things felt not so distorted. Food also helped, and thankfully after the second failed attempt to keep his eyes open it was done and being brought into the living room. It was the usual location for them to eat despite Kendall having a perfectly comfortable dining area.

Eating was also a silent affair. There was a little talking occasionally, but it was mostly asking someone to pass something here or there. But there was nothing off about that kind of thing, the combination of food and just waking up was reason enough to not want to speak to each other. Plus it wasn’t like the silence left things awkward, they’d all grown comfortable enough with each other to just simply be in each other’s presence sometimes.

By the time they finished everyone was much livelier and seemed ready to start the day. At that point they prepped to rotate taking showers to get ready for the day. Some of the boys had separate things they wanted to do and Sejin apparently dropped some stuff off for them, so they didn’t have to leave to get ready.

Yoongi jumped into the shower while Kendall and Jin cleaned the dishes - something they insisted on. By the time he stepped out of it his mind was cleared and he only had one thought in his head. Why was Kendall crying? He feared there was something wrong that she hadn’t told him about. But he also feared that he’d been the cause of her tears. There was no clear way for him to know which one scared him more.

It didn’t matter though, he needed to know what was wrong so he could possibly help someway. Knowing that he was maybe the cause was better than not knowing at all. Especially if it wasn’t the first time it occurred.

So, when Kendall walked into the room moments after he finished getting dressed, he opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t get the chance.

“Goodness, I feel like I sweated through every orifice of my body last night. I definitely need to shower again,” she said dramatically, already pulling off her clothes.

That made him pause and smile a little at her behavior. It halted his thoughts of saying something long enough that just as he attempted to speak again, she was already cutting him off.

“I’m going to take a quick shower. But Max said he was coming a little earlier and since we all slept in, he should be here soon. Can you make sure someone lets him up?” she asked, turning to look at him for the first time since she entered.

Yoongi knew that was his moment to say it, but then his brain short circuited seeing her naked like that and that momentary lapse told him he wasn’t ready for that conversation yet. He wouldn’t be reacting like some kid seeing his first boob if his brain wasn’t looking for something else to focus on so he could avoid the crying.

He nodded.

Kendall smiled and gave him a thumbs up before skipping into the bathroom. Once the door was closed Yoongi fell back onto the bed and groaned. Of course, he froze up just as he almost did it. Of course, his mind drifted elsewhere. All he’d done for the last few months was struggle with getting to the point with her and things were suffering because of it. He thought he’d gotten better, but obviously not back to normal.

He hated the weird place they were in.

There was no stewing in his annoyance for long though, he needed to keep a lookout for Max. Raising from the bed, he grabbed his phone and shuffled out to the living room. Taehyung, Jimin, and Namjoon were laid out on the couch and focused on their phones. All of them in a fresh pair of clothes and slightly damp hair.

“What are you guys doing?” Namjoon asked once Yoongi took a seat.

Taehyung and Jimin said they were going to see a few museums or something. Once they finished Yoongi muttered about going to a studio with Kendall, Max, and a few others.

Namjoon perked up at that. “Can I come?”

His suddenness startled Yoongi who glanced over at him with a raised brow. “I thought you were going with the other three?”

At that Namjoon simply shrugged. “We were going to go out a little far out to get some pictures and just relax, but I kind of want to go to the studio. Even if it’s just sitting there and hanging out versus doing anything productive.”

Yoongi could get that. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s fine. It was us all just catching up and messing around anyway. It’s one of those rare times everyone is in the same place so we can meet up and meet people.”

Namjoon smiled at that and got up heading towards the guest bedroom. Yoongi could hear him tell the others he was abandoning them with a whole of excitement. He was sure if the younger man didn’t specify what he was leaving for they’d be offended.

In his absence Max showed up and Yoongi let him in. They greeted each other with the same friendly fondness that they always did. And as usual they dove into their own world after Max said hello to the others. The conversation was focused on catching up and what they were up to. They both were very over all the things they had to show up for during the days leading up to the Grammys. Every event was basically the same and they’d much prefer chilling or doing something that they wanted to.

“So, you’re going to the Roc Nation Brunch?” Max asked.

Yoongi nodded. “Yeah, Kendall doesn’t want to go alone.”

“And you also really want to go and see who you can meet,” Max said, seeing right through him.

Yoongi laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. Of course, everyone saw through his whole thing about just going for Kendall. He was going for that reason, but he wasn’t going to deny that he was excited to be amongst people he looked up to all his life or admired. Even if nothing came of it, he'd still have a good time being there.

Before he could verbalize anything though Kendall emerged from the bedroom dressed and hair up in a bun. She smiled at Max and waved before venturing down to the guest bedroom. Her head peaked in and Yoongi faintly heard her say that Jungkook could shower in her room.

When she returned, her and Max went into conversation while Yoongi’s attention was drawn in by Namjoon showing him something. And they all stayed like that until Jin, Hoseok, and Jungkook were dressed and ready to go. After Sejin confirmed he was waiting for them they headed down, but just as they reached the elevators Hoseok paused.

“I think I forgot my charger,” he said.

Kendall was already in the elevator and stepped out, but Hoseok waved her off.

“You guys go down. Yoongi can open the door for me, right?”

For a moment Kendall appeared confused, but then she simply nodded and stepped back in. Yoongi was just outside the doors so he simply turned and led Hoseok back towards the apartment.

Once they were inside, he expected him to go look for the thing, but Hoseok merely turned to face him, his lips in a deep-set frown.

“What?” Yoongi asked, both confused and worried.

A second or two passed and Hoseok said nothing, which was horrible on Yoongi’s nerves. But before he could ask again, he started talking.

“I’m guessing you found her crying or looking like she cried herself to sleep last night?” he asked, though it sounded more like a statement.

That made Yoongi freeze. How the hell he knew about her crying was beyond him, but it made him feel even worse that his friend knew what the heck was going on, but Yoongi was clueless. Had Kendall told him what was wrong, or did he find out by chance? Yoongi really needed to know.

“Ho...” Yoongi started.

“The month you were being an ass I had to come here for work remember? I had a hotel room but I mostly stayed here and the first night after we watched a movie she went to bed a little early. She must have forgot I was there or was just too distraught to stop herself, but she cried then too. I went to check on her when it lasted for several minutes and found her full on sobbing in bed. Once I got her calm I asked her about it. And even then she cried every night after. Now did she cry or not?”

Hearing that made Yoongi’s chest tight and his breathing a little labored. He wanted to ask more, but he couldn’t find the words and Hoseok was awaiting an answer. Not trusting his voice Yoongi nodded.

Hoseok chewed on his lower lip for a second before sighing. “Okay, so I’m not supposed to tell you and I technically won’t, but you two need to talk. Of course, you need to discuss what happened a few days ago, but you also need to bring up the crying. You have to do it tonight, okay? This crap can’t be held off any longer or it’s only going to get worse.”

The urgency in Hoseok’s voice made Yoongi’s stomach churn. He really needed to know what the hell happened, but he knew that only one person could give him those answers and it would be wrong to press someone else for them.

“Okay,” Yoongi said when he finally found his voice.

After staring at him for a while Hoseok nodded and they left the apartment. Their descent was made in silence and Yoongi tried to keep his expression as blank as would be considered normal, he couldn’t look upset or like he was trying too hard to look fine. Kendall or Namjoon would pick up on things and he didn’t need that.

But once he got into Max’s car Namjoon glanced at him once and it was like he saw right through him. Yoongi gave him a look that relayed to not ask question and Namjoon’s mouth clamp shut into a firm line. Thankfully though Kendall was too focused on a call to glance his way longer than a second so she couldn’t scrutinize him.

Once he was settled, Max pulled off and they made their way to the studio. It was a quick trip and soon enough Yoongi didn’t have to worry about Kendall possibly catching on because she was wrapped up in everything else.

Her distraction led to Yoongi watching her closely. Of course, he was in the conversation and actively enjoying himself, but he also took into account everything that she did. The way she slowly became more comfortable and how she smiled. It was wider and much more genuine than he’d seen in a while. Everything about her was much freer than he’d seen her in what felt like forever and that was a punch to the gut.

That realization dampened his mood and made the last two hours of their session a bit hard to bear. He kept up with conversation and even took over the computer to add on a suggestion of his, but he was no longer as excited to be there.

In fact, Yoongi was anxious to leave.

Around six they were picked up in a van with the other boys and went out for a quick dinner. Yoongi was sure that Hoseok let the others know that he and Kendall needed some time alone if the way they inhaled their food was any indication.

But things couldn’t go that smoothly.

Just as Yoongi was going to say he was going back with Kendall, Sejin said they needed to have a meeting at the house. Of course, he didn’t know how long it would be, so having Kendall wait for them was unreasonable.

Another stop to his plans.

They parted ways and Yoongi all but shouted the meeting needed to happen the second they stepped into the door. It shocked no one - except maybe Sejin - and they got right to it. The subject was just about how the next few days would ramp up and they’d have the morning off the next day, but that evening was meant for some interviews and more practice.

The moment that was finished Yoongi was already out of the house and hopping into the car that stayed behind. The staff member driving knew where to take him without a word. And for the twenty-minute drive he sat with his leg bouncing and chewing on the tip of his nail.

Once at the building he all but ran inside, throwing a quick thank you over his shoulder. He spent the entire elevator ride trying to find the right words to say and when the doors opened, he was so sure of himself. However, once he got inside his nerves hit. It wasn’t that he’d lost his edge, but he heard something that sounded like whimpering.

He was right that it was a regular occurrence.

Yoongi steeled himself and made his way to the bedroom. He didn’t want to rush in and startle her too much, so he took his time pushing the door open and making his way to her side. He crawled into the bed and pulled back the cover from her head.

Kendall looked surprised, but it was clearly pushed aside as she tried to rid herself of the tears. It didn’t change that her eyes were bloodshot and her hands shaky.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice cracking.

Yoongi wanted to simply comfort her and tell her it would be okay, but he didn’t fully know what was going on. And without knowing and talking things through he couldn’t promise things like that.

“Baby, we need to talk,” he said, hoping the term of endearment would soothe any worries about what he planned to say.

There was no obvious reaction to it, though he did feel her stiffen a little. For a second, he thought she’d change the subject, but after a deep breath she nodded.

Carefully he moved both of them into a sitting position. She had her back against the headboard with her legs crossed and he sat opposite her, his hands taking in hers.

Several minutes passed in silence. Yoongi knew she needed a minute and refused to push her. He wanted their conversation to go by smoothly and that meant being hyper aware of how either of them felt before saying anything.

A hand squeeze was the signal for him to proceed.

“How about we start with why I found you crying two nights in a row,” he said softly.

That made her clam up a bit, but Yoongi squeezed her hands on and off to comfort her. After a few seconds she physically relaxed and took a deep breath.

“I haven’t... I…” More squeezes of reassurance and she worked through it. “It felt like the world crumbled down around us the moment we came back from the hospital. I knew I’d messed up and that it would take some time to rebuild things, but I don’t know at what point the rebuilding is complete. I don’t know when I can finally relax and not feel like something I say or do that leans slightly into not so healthy territory will upset you. Of course, I’m making a strong effort to be better for myself above anything else, but some things just can’t be helped. Sometimes I’m going to work a little too hard or skip a meal solely because I’m not hungry.

“But when is it the time that I can do that without feeling like I’m letting you down, Yoongi? When do I get to stop feeling like that, you’re five seconds away from shutting down and cutting me out for a month again? I get it and I understand that this is a lot on you and you’re still working through some of it yourself, but when does it stop? Does it ever? Or are we stuck in this infinite loop of me fearing the wrong move will completely destroy our relationship just like I thought it would after it happened?”

Halfway through her mini rant Kendall started crying again. She tried to hold them back, but it was clear that she knew it was a losing battle. So Yoongi watched them flow down her cheeks. He watched as her voice broke and she became distraught. He watched as the thick wall that had still been between them started to crack a little.

And he hated it.

Yoongi hated that it took six months before they could get to a point where everything was finally laid out. He hated it because he knew how much of it was his own fault. Kendall wanted to talk about it once he’d stopped giving her the cold shoulder, but he thought a slow approach was best. And when everything was normal-ish, he was sure he’d worked through the urge to react a little aggressively when she seemed to slip into the habits that landed her in the hospital.

His behavior was hypocritical. While she lived in fear she’d do something to set him off, he continued his habits every so often and sometimes even brushed off her concern. It was truly messed up.

At some point he was so in his head thinking about how he’d messed up that he almost forgot that the love of his life was across from him crying and waiting for a response.

Taking a deep breath Yoongi glanced up and stared into her eyes. It broke his heart to see how watery they were, but he needed to get through it and not just jump to comforting her. There would be nothing else to get him off track.

“I know this hasn’t been easy. It’s sucked hard the last few months and I know it wasn’t handled the best. I worked through my emotions and didn’t think we needed to go further than the progress we’d made. I sat blind to the fact that I was still clinging to the fear and making it hard for you to be free with me. To say what you want without worry about me being upset. And for that I’m really sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Kendall. And I have to apologize for the way I stormed into your writing session. I let my worries overtake me instead of trusting you, which is shitty. I trust you with all that I am, and I never want you to think I don’t. And I promise to make sure that I don’t make you feel that way again.

“From now on we are going to be our normal selves. There are going to be moments where we push a little too hard or slip up, but I know neither of us will go through what happened again. I’ll stop the weirdness and if I slip up please let me know. I will not be upset if you call me on my bullshit. Okay?”

Since she was still crying, she couldn’t speak so she just nodded.

With that out of the way Yoongi finally pulled her into him. With the force they fell back onto the bed, but he didn’t mind at all. His arms wrapped around her waist and he pressed kisses all over her face. After a while she giggled and tried to get him to stop. However, Yoongi refused to let up and at some point she ended up pinned underneath him.

Once he had enough of being jabbed in the side, he stopped but didn’t move from where he was straddling her. His eyes softened and his hands reached to caress her face. He felt nothing but affection course through him as he stared at her. The smile on her face was radiant and it was the first time in months she looked at him that way.

“I love you,” he said.

That only made her smile shine brighter. “I love you too.”

After their talk and another brief conversation things got better. Kendall felt she could be much freer in what she did or said around Yoongi and he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. They were busy so there wasn’t a lot of time spent together, but any time that was in each other’s presence could be described in one word.

Disgusting.

At least to everyone who had to be in their presence.

They were so free that their affection and love were always present. If they weren’t kissing, they were cuddling. And if cuddling was out of the question, they were holding hands or linking pinkies. It was as if they were forgoing their usual not so intense public affection to make up for lost time. And if they didn’t have any shame - which it never felt like they did - they’d probably end up dry humping each other on the couch during movie night. Everyone was thankful it never came to that.

Kendall was very aware of how their behavior was affecting everyone, but she didn’t care all that much. At some point she planned to scale it back to normal, but for the time being she thought it was fine for them to just deal with it. Especially since they weren’t as bad as Jimin and that girl he dated for six months. The thought of the compromising positions she’d found them in would forever send a chill down her spine.

But she could admit they were maybe overdoing it after it taking five minutes for them to part ways and get ready for the brunch. They had to be dragged apart and pulled from the bedroom so they could start the day. It was kind of funny, but also a little cringy. Though she’d take that over non-stop tension any day.

Their separation wasn’t for long though. After a little over an hour of hair and make-up they met in the kitchen, both grabbing a snack. Yoongi was almost fully dressed. He wore olive green slacks and a white button up. His gray hair was styled to where it covered most of his forehead, but there was a small part near the center. He looked good and his pants made his butt pop a little. Though it was still no match for Kendall’s. She wore a dress of the same color. It was off the shoulder with flowy sleeves and though the material of the top hung a little loose the skirt of it was tight. It met and molded with every curve she had.

Yoongi surely appreciated it.

“Stop staring at my butt, please and thank you,” she muttered after downing a glass of water.

“That’s not going to happen,” Yoongi muttered.

Turning to face him fully she took away his view, which led to him pouting at her. While it was a little adorable, she couldn’t forget that the reason he was pouting was because he couldn’t be a perv.

Moving closer her arms wrapped around his neck and she leaned her head on his shoulder. There were some complaints about her curls getting into his mouth, but he wrapped his arms around her waist and placed a kiss on her bare shoulder.

“You look good, love,” Kendall muttered.

“So, do you,” he replied.

Kendall’s eyes fluttered closed after that and she just stayed like that. Being wrapped in his arms was nice and she never wanted to leave them if she could help it. But obviously that wasn’t allowed.

“I told you five minutes to grab a snack. You’re not going to be upset with me because I didn’t have the time to add some extra touches to your hair,” Kendall’s stylist, Michelle, said.

Holding back a laugh Kendall pulled away from Yoongi and winked before following behind the woman. She wasn’t really annoyed with her but testing her was also not the best idea; she could get mean.

The next time they saw each other was in the car taking them to the event. They were running a little behind, but neither of them cared much. They were definitely not going to be the last ones to get there.

“I had a feeling you’d choose those,” he commented as they got out of the car to make their entrance.

At first Kendall was confused, but then she noticed his head incline towards her shoes. She’d chosen a pair with a thicker heel since Michelle wouldn’t allow her to wear flats or fashionable sneakers.

She scoffed and pressed closer to him as his arm wrapped around her waist.

“Of course. Do you want to have to massage my feet so they feel better after that torture?” she asked.

Then it was Yoongi’s turn to scoff. “As if you’re not going to make me after you wear those.”

They were on the carpet where photos would be taken by then but it didn’t stop her from lightly swatting at him.

“Don’t act like you don’t volunteer half of the time.”

“Don’t act like I don’t volunteer in order to maybe get something out of it,” he retorted.

Her instinct was to keep going, but she merely laughed at him. He wasn’t wrong per se. It took a moment for them to come out of their own little world and realize there were cameras pointed at them. They quickly got it together and took one too many pictures.

From there it was full steam ahead. They entered the party and were immersed in people. They were saying hi to acquaintances, catching up and hanging out with friends, and interacting with people they hadn’t before. At some point there was a brief conversation with Jay-Z and Beyoncé before Jay Park swooped up and pulled Kendall’s attention.

But no matter who they were talking to both were glued to each other’s side. Yoongi would be having a completely different conversation with a different set of people then Kendall and still had their fingers laced. And when they weren’t too focused on anything they were practically cuddled together and happy in their own space.

A few hours of drinks and conversation made them want to go home though. So, despite the promise to stay a little longer they made their exit and headed home. Though there were a few quick stops for food and things.

Once at Kendall's apartment they got ready for bed and then proceeded to struggle to make a fort in the living room for thirty minutes. The entire time was spent yelling after the sheets collapsed on them and laughter when they accidentally crashed into each other because they couldn’t see. In retrospect they should’ve used more than light from the TV and a lamp to do it.

When they’d finally finished the fort, got the coffee table moved, retrieved way too many pillows and blankets, and set their snacks out they finally got comfortable. They cuddled close and turned their focus to the TV.

Yoongi was in charge of picking what they watched since Kendall didn’t care much and he was clearly struggling. Kendall was going to offer some help but then his head turned to her and in a second his lips were on hers. Though shocked she returned the kiss, pressing even closer to keep it going.

A minute or so later Yoongi pulled away and smiled at her.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” she said without hesitation.

For a little while they stared at each other and said nothing. They didn’t need to though. Basking in each other was enough for that moment.

Who knows how long it took before they looked away from each other, but when they did Kendall felt a flurry of butterflies in her stomach and everything seemed right with the world for once.

“Veronica Mars rewatch?” he asked.

Kendall nodded.

“Veronica Mars rewatch!” she screamed.

That made Yoongi laugh and shake his head, but he was already pressing play on the first episode of season one.

The day of the Grammys started much like the day of the brunch. Neither of them wanted to leave the bed, but they needed to start the day. Kendall had a thing or two to do before she got ready and since the boys were performing, they had to do a few more run-throughs.

It was tough, but they started their days on a high note and were ready to end it on that too. Yoongi came into practice focused and ready to get things done. He wanted things to go smoothly and for them to leave an impression. And with the set they were performing they were sure to do so.

Practice lasted for a few hours. It was briefly done in their own little room, but for most of it they were on the stage. It went well, though there were a few tweaks here and there as they looked back on what they did. Thankfully, nothing major was wrong and all of them were in the right state of health to go on.

When everything was done, they headed back to the house to shower, eat, and get ready. Since there were enough bathrooms for all of them there was no waiting, which Yoongi was eternally grateful for. He did not smell his best and his muscles were a little sore from use. Showering helped with that and gave him the time to breathe.

Once finished and dressed in loose clothing he went down to the kitchen to grab some of the food, which he devoured faster than usual. Which wasn’t good since it merely increased the tired feeling he’d been ignoring and hoping would go away. But he was in luck. They’d wrapped things up quickly enough that there was time for him to take a nap.

That isn’t what he did once his body hit the bed though. Sleep was on his mind, but it was quickly overshadowed by Kendall. He’d texted her earlier, but she hadn’t gotten back to him, which bothered him. And surprisingly it wasn’t because he was worried, but because he was being a pouty baby about being ignored. He debated blowing up her phone just to get on her nerves, but then remembered she had a lot to do and she was feeling extremely nervous about the night.

Yoongi understood that though, it was going to be nerve wracking. The boys were performing and up for an award. Which would be fine, but then Yoongi was also up for Producer of the Year Non-classical. He and Kendall were up for it together. If they were both separate entries it would be one thing, but they shared the possibility of winning and that made him want it more. He thought she deserved to win, and he wanted to win for himself.

At some point he got so in his head that he didn’t even realize he’d drifted off. It was like even in his sleep his mind was only focused on that. Which meant the nap helped, but his thoughts running meant that he didn’t get the full affect. When Hoseok shook him awake all he could do was groan and wish he was asleep again.

But alas he had to get his behind in gear. So, he downed some coffee and let the staff take over from there. His outfit was handed to him and he changed into it before coming back out for his hair and make-up to be done. It was going to be a simple look make-up wise and changed up a little for the performance. And his hair was styled over his forehead, but there was some waviness to it.

After two hours of everyone getting ready, they headed out again. Yoongi could feel his nerves ramp up and the energy in the car was also very uneasy. There was excitement too, but that just made things worse. And when they arrived, he felt like he was going to vomit. It took some deep breaths and a quick pep talk from Joon to get them all to normal levels of nervous.

With a calmer state of mind Yoongi stepped out of the car, only moving far enough so the others could get out too. The picture taking was almost immediate and Yoongi steeled him so as soon as he heard the first click. Once Namjoon was out he took the lead and led them inside and onto the carpet. They stopped for several photos and a few quick interviews, which were basically just the same questions over and over again.

It wasn’t until about five minutes into being on the carpet that something caught Yoongi’s interest. From the corner of his eye he saw a flash of purple enter the carpet and only pause for about thirty seconds before moving along. He knew who it was before his head even fully turned.

Kendall was in a long lilac dress that had two slits up to the middle of her thigh and a pair of white heels that she probably hated. Her hair was braided into a crown, which he knew took a while because of how thick it was, even when straightened.

She looked beyond beautiful and she was planning on walking right past them.

Never one for lingering long on carpets, Kendall merely glanced his way and winked before preparing to go on her merry way, but that wasn’t going down. Yoongi moved away from the boys, confusing their interviewer, and grasped her hand pulling her over to where they were despite heavy protest.

Once with the group again he smiled and acted as if he hadn’t thrown all of them off. And that smile grew wider when Kendall stopped objecting once in front of the camera. She was known to have no problem speaking her displeasure no matter the setting, but she also tried her best to keep her cool in those situations.

After recovering from the interruption, the interview continued as normal. There were a few questions thrown at Kendall, but she answered them with ease. And a few moments later they were being directed into the main room. That’s when she took the chance to lightly punch Yoongi in his arm.

“Jerk,” she mumbled.

He just laughed and allowed her to take the lead. They were all sitting together from what he’d seen earlier, which worked for him because he’d need his brothers and her by his side to get through the evening.

About twenty minutes after they got into their seats things started, and the focus went there. Cameras would be everywhere, and they would especially be on them, so there was the need to be present for the most part. He could lean over and whisper something in Kendall’s ear every so often to make her laugh, but besides that he had to keep it together.

About an hour in, staff came to grab the boys and Yoongi placed a quick kiss on Kendall's hand before going to get ready. The moment he got backstage it was hectic and his mind could only focus on being ready to go. They went through wardrobe, hair, and make-up within twenty minutes and then moved to their positions.

When the music started Yoongi felt his heart rate increase, but he tried to keep it down. It wasn’t even his turn yet. Jungkook was up first.

The boys had decided on using their performance as a moment to highlight their solo stuff and their group work. They’d all get about thirty seconds on their own set and that would shift seamlessly into the next one. Once that was over, they would come together for their newest title track, which reflected a lot more with old Bangtan music.

Yoongi was going to be the last to go and though he had newer music he had chosen Agust D to perform. When it was his turn he came out and performed with the charisma that he was known for. And then just where the verse should’ve kept going, he stopped and the whole place went black. When the lights came back up, he was in a formation with the others and he continued, the group song starting with a verse from him.

The crowd responded nicely to it and the energy in the place was crazy. Even when they finished their set, the applause finished, and he was back in his seat the adrenaline coursed through him. He was on a high.

That new energy fueled him and kept him grounded through the rest of the show. And then it died a little when they mentioned the category the boys were up for. He was sure they wouldn’t win it, but that didn’t stop him from hoping. And when he was proven right it didn’t bother him much. However, soon after it was time for the other award and his energy dipped even further.

Kendall suddenly gripped his hand tight in hers and turned her head to look at him. They had a brief moment and it was like without words they comforted each other. Both of them relaxed a little more, but their hands still gripped one another’s fiercely.

The nominees felt like they were being announced slower than the rest, but Yoongi kept his face cool. Cameras were definitely on them and he couldn’t let them try to gauge what he was feeling. But after what felt like an eternity, he felt his resolve slipping, only to hear their names being called as the winners. Shock hit him hard.

Yoongi stood immediately and was pulled into the embrace of the other boys, but his hand still never left Kendall’s. That’s when he noticed that she was still sitting and processing. After a few seconds she also stood and accepted the boy’s affections before they were led up to the stage.

Since he was clearly the more present of the two, he took the moment to speak.

“Whoa, I didn’t think we’d get this. I come into every award situation hoping but making sure that I don’t think I’m going to. It does not keep me from being a little disappointed when it doesn’t happen, much like earlier, but it makes it easier. But my goodness does this make up for it. Me and my brothers couldn’t win tonight as a team, but this win is for me and them as they have been with me throughout my journey as I grew as a producer. And of course, it’s for the lovely Kendall who has cemented herself as someone passionate about her craft and has been able to do what she loves for years now. Who has also helped me push to be better at what I do and pushes herself to do the same. Without any of them I wouldn’t be standing here thinking this award is going to vanish from my hands at any moment.”

Yoongi’s voice got a bit shaky towards the end, but he tried to play it off with laughter. By the time he was done Kendall had calmed herself and wiped free the stray tears. Yoongi stood back from the mic and let her talk.

“Thank goodness for Yoongi or I wouldn’t have had time to stall and pull it together. This is just so freaking cool and though it’s never been a goal or specific want of mine like it has been his I still am so grateful. I don’t ever think I’ll win or be awarded things, so it’s always the biggest shock in the world when I do. And I wouldn’t be here without having people believe in me achieving things like this. Without people not brushing me off and actually listening to what I have to say or show them. Without a mother who knocked sense into me when I thought pursuing multiple creative passions was a pipe dream. Or without friends who challenge me even when I think I’ve found what works best for me. Or without Yoongi, who is someone willing to take my bullshit and give it back tenfold. It really does take a village and I couldn’t be more thankful for mine. Thank you.”

At some point she’d reached her hand back to take Yoongi’s and once she finished her speech, he squeezed it tight. With that done there was another round of applause and they were taken backstage. They took a few photos and then the BigHit staff took the awards from them so they could finish out the night.

And if anyone thought they were clingy before; they hadn’t seen anything.

From the moment they got back to their seats - after a round of congratulations from everyone around them - they were inseparable. Even as they went through some exit interviews and made their way to an after party.

They were just so happy and so free of inhibitions that there were probably multiple videos of them a little drunk, singing and dancing along to the music a little aggressively. They also kept making out and had to be reminded they were in public.

But that didn’t matter much to them. They’d achieved a great thing, were in a wonderful place relationship wise, and simply happy in life. Not to mention so in love that it didn’t matter if they were being a mess and ended up circulating stan twitter for their antics. Their feelings are what mattered most.

And they felt on top of the world.

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