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skdubbs · 4 years ago

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Let Love Find You

Chapter 1: An Awkward Introduction

Summary: Love has a funny way of finding you when you’re not looking for it. Commander Fox discovered this the hard way when a box arrived on base and pique his interest.

Here it is. I can’t believe I'm finally doing this. A huge huge HUGE shoutout and thank you to @detroitbydark for all of the encouragement, feedback, and listening to my ramblings about this story. You’re the best.

This story will be the first in a collection of three interconnected stories taking place at the same time. I hope you all enjoy!

It all started with a box.

Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard stared at the parcel currently sitting on his desk amidst piles of carefully cataloged holopads. The contents of said package laid innocently next to the box. He’d had part of it scanned and tested, twice. Absolutely nothing alarming to be found. And yet Fox was still unsettled.

In the year since taking up his post, he’d never been rendered speechless. Well, today the boys could mark it down in the books. Truly, the commander didn’t know what to say. Or think. Or do. The mental conundrum Fox found himself in was beyond exasperating. Sighing, Fox shook his head, then glanced at the flimsi note he held. Once more, he read the delicately written script.

To: Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard

Dear Sir,

I’m sure this package and its contents might cause alarm and confusion. Please don’t allow it to do either. This is simply a token to express my thanks to the troopers involved with the skirmish in the market district on Level 3 nearly four rotations ago. Their actions saved my life and that of my daughter. When we expressed our gratitude, my daughter felt the shock trooper didn’t think we were sincere. Hence, this small gift. I ask that you please see to it that the troopers involved receive this token and understand how grateful we were for their timely arrival. For there are citizens on this planet who are aware of the services the Guard provides to ensure our continued safety and peace. Thank you for your help in this matter.

Sincerely,

Arissa Blunt

Fox knew without looking it up what skirmish Ms. Blunt referred to, as well as the troopers involved. Reach’s report had made mention of the two citizens he’d pulled away from the fire fight, a young woman and child. Interestingly enough, Fox had also heard through the guard barrack’s grapevine that Reach spent most of that night crowing about a civvie thanking him and how pretty she’d been. According to Reach, her body was a man’s wet dream.

At the time Fox had scoffed and pushed the matter out of his mind. He had far more important matters to contend with than one of his trooper’s infatuations. All of the men would have one at some point or other. It was a natural result with overexposure to civilians after a lifetime of social isolation. Fox was one of the few he knew to never fall to such an affliction. That didn’t mean he hadn’t dabbled and explored his options. The commander had simply never experienced the magic of someone capturing his attention for more than a moment of a little physical pleasure. Until now.

Commander Fox was intrigued, all because of a box of homemade ginger spice cookies, a short note, and an infatuated trooper’s embellished description. Again, Fox sighed. Maker, he needed a drink. And it wasn’t even 1200 yet.

He commed Captain Stone, the squad leader there on the day in question.

“This is Stone,” came the greeting.

“Captain, round up the troopers involved in the skirmish on Level 3, I’m sure you remember the one,” Fox instructed. “They’ve got a gift waiting for them in my office. Apparently Reach’s story wasn’t completely fabricated.”

There was a beat of stunned silence. It was brief, but Fox knew it for what it was. Shock. “Right away, sir,” Stone replied.

Fox disconnected, then turned to inspect the baked goods still sitting on his desk. Ginger spice cookies. Homemade, no less. Damn, they smelled good.

Fox smirked. What the men didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. He plucked one cookie from the pile, taking a small bite to test the flavor. A groan of delight broke past his lips. This was one of the best frekkin’ things he’d ever had the pleasure of eating, and that's saying something. After all, the position of Commander of the Coruscant Guard afforded certain luxuries and privileges that few other clones were allowed.

The commander took another bite, savoring the taste. What he wouldn’t give to have something this good to eat every day. His eyes found the note again, sitting on his desk in stark contrast to everything else. Arissa Blunt. One has to wonder what kind of woman she was. Fox had every intention of finding out.

-----

After giving the boys their gift (the looks of shock and delight on their faces had caused a grin on his), Fox decided to investigate. It took little effort to find the information he needed. Another perk to his position.

Arissa Blunt, single human female aged 22 standard years. Currently a member of the Republic military’s research and development division located here on base. His brows had raised at that. He merely needed to leave his office and walk across the facility in order to find her. Her focus was prototype military-grade weapons. So, she worked on creating better ways for his brothers on the front to do their job. While he didn’t know her, Fox felt a swell of appreciation for this woman.

He was shocked and intrigued to find she held her position with no formal training. Instead, Ms. Blunt came into the program through the recommendation of a member of the board. It was highly irregular. Perhaps some nepotism was involved? But that made no sense either. According to her file, Ms. Blunt had no living relatives, only a young daughter named Gemma. Cute name, he’d thought.

Out of curiosity, Fox looked her up too. Gemma Blunt, single human female aged 5 standard years. Currently enrolled on scholarship at a school for gifted young children located noooo in a more well-to-do area of the upper levels. So, the kid was smart.

A part of Fox was impressed. And even more intrigued, especially as he gazed at Ms. Blunt’s photo. Reach hadn’t exaggerated, she was quite pretty. Not in the glamour model sort of way. But you could see the potential lying underneath her cute veneer should she ever try to be one. And those eyes….well, they’d surprised him too. Most humans didn’t have violet colored eyes, at least not naturally. But on her they were stunning. They drew you in and spoke volumes. As if the secrets they held were more than just her own. She could know yours without you evening realizing. A fanciful thought perhaps, but there all the same.

And that is why Commander Fox found himself making the long trek to the R&D division on base a few hours later. Amazingly, he had an hour free. Plenty of time to pay Ms. Blunt a visit. He could convey the men’s appreciation and slake his curiosity.

He’d found a technician by the name of A’tron Rogers when he arrived. The man had the audacity to scoff at him when he stated who he was looking for. Fox wisely kept his helmet on, knowing full well what kind of person he was dealing with. It was rather obvious what Mr. Rogers thought of clones and about doing anything for them. One had to wonder why he was in a position that required him to help create weapons that helped said clones.

“Yeah, she’s back here,” he’d snapped. “Follow me.”

Resisting the urge to call the man on his insubordination, Fox followed. They made their way further back into the lab and came to a stop at what looked to be some kind of long range canon. However, the weapon wasn’t what caught Fox’s attention.

Fox froze, his brain gone blank. Before his eyes, bent over at just the right angle, was perhaps the most perfectly shaped ass he’d ever seen. His mouth watered while his blood rushed south. Mentally, he cursed. This was not a good way to start an introduction.

“Blunt!” Rogers practically screeched, trying to get the technician's attention. It certainly did the trick, albeit in a painful way. Arissa’s head shot up, caught by surprise, only to have it collide with the paneling of the prototype she’d been working on. A string of low muttered curses followed the loud clang. Fox winced in sympathy.

After a moment or two, Arissa straightened, seemed to take a steadying breath, then turned to face them. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second when they landed on him. However, she recovered quickly, her face becoming unreadable as she turned to her coworker.

Fox wished he could say the same. That beautiful shebs he’d been staring at not long ago should have warned him at what else he’d see. Because, by the maker, Reach hadn’t exaggerated. Not one bit. Arissa Blunt truly was a man’s wet dream. Her hair was up and covered, but he didn’t need to see the dark brown wavy locks again to know how it finished the masterpiece that stood before him. Even wearing coveralls covered in grease splotches couldn’t detract from that hourglass figure or the small waist. And her breasts. By Fett, they were a handful and more. So much more. Again, Fox was grateful he’d chosen to keep his bucket on. He’d have looked like a gaping fool otherwise.

Arissa addressed Rogers, her voice even and devoid of emotion. “Did you need something, Rogers?”

The shorter man huffed, obviously put out by her lack of response to him. Fox made a mental note of that. Maybe it wasn’t just clones the man had a problem with. “You’ve got a visitor. Commander Fox here needs to speak with you.”

The technician’s gaze swung over to him, that violet gaze holding him captive. Again, he noticed a moment of trepidation, as if she feared his presence. Fox scowled, annoyance flaring. Her reaction was classic for a citizen. They either looked at him and his brothers with fear or disdain. He wasn’t sure which pissed him off more.

“I see,” she replied. “Well, I’m due a fifteen anyway. If you need me, we’ll be in the conference room.”

Rogers snorted, then left. Yup, that chakaaryc really didn’t like Arissa Blunt. Fox focused his attention on the woman before him. As he looked closer, her nerves became more obvious. What did she have to be nervous about?

“Ms. Blunt,” he greeted, his voice stiff and formal.

“Commander Fox,” she greeted in return. Grabbing a rag, she wiped her hands off, then motioned for him to follow her. “Whatever you need to tell me, it’d be best said in the conference room. Otherwise, everyone else in the department will know about it before the end of the day. You wouldn’t think it, but the lot here are as bad as a bunch of gossiping housewives.”

Nodding, he followed. As they left the lab and made their way down the hallway, Fox couldn’t help his eyes from looking. The sway of those hips were going to haunt him. Another curse ran through his mind.

Soon enough they reached their destination, Arissa gesturing him inside. He took up a position further in, standing at attention while he waited for her to shut the door.

“Would you rather sit, Commander?”

“No thank you, miss. But please don’t stand on my account. Have a seat.”

He patiently waited while Arissa got comfortable. Once she seemed settled, he dove right in. “I assume you know why I’m here?”

That flash of trepidation was back. It was gone immediately, but still, he saw it.

“I think so,” she quietly answered. Her tongue came out to wet her lips. Despite himself, Fox felt a knee jerk reaction to the tiny movement. Maker, this needed to stop. Now.

“Then explain yourself,” he ordered.

That got her attention. Arissa straightened, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Explain myself? I thought the note I left was pretty self-explanatory.”

“Perhaps,” he hedged. “However, your reaction to my appearance here would say otherwise. I thought you appreciated what the guard does for the citizens of Coruscant. Someone who is appreciative doesn’t respond with fear in their eyes.”

Arissa’s eyes widened, first in shock, then in anger. However, when she next spoke, her voice remained even. “From my point of view, your sudden appearance here is rather suspect. Troopers, let alone commanders, don’t make random visits to this part of the base. Any fear you saw was my worry that I’d done something wrong.”

That made Fox pause, considering. Her words in the note had sounded sincere. And someone who feared or hated clones wouldn't have sent something in the first place, not without it having some sort of repercussion. Perhaps she had a point. Finally, Fox relaxed his stance.

“I suppose your reaction would make sense then,” he conceded. “I apologize for alarming you, Ms. Blunt.”

She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, you couldn’t have known. I’m sorry I gave you the impression I was like all those ungrateful idiots out there.”

Fox stared at her. Well, that was certainly one way of putting it. Apparently Ms.Blunt lived up to her name. He cleared his throat. “Now that that’s settled, would you mind explaining to me why you felt the need to do such a thing?”

Arissa started fiddling with a loose thread of her coveralls. A nervous tick. “I already told you in the note I sent with the package. My daughter thought the trooper who helped us didn’t believe we meant what we said. I was helping to make him see otherwise.”

A scoff escaped him. “Forgive my own cynicism then. I’m used to people having ulterior motives. It’s my job to find them.” He shrugged. “So, it’s a little hard to believe there wasn’t something else behind your actions, appreciated as they are.”

While he knew he was being something of a di’kut, Fox needed to know. He wasn’t lying. Any civilian he’d ever met had some sort of ulterior motive, most often to the detriment of his men.

She didn’t speak for a while, sitting there in quiet contemplation. Then, those violet orbs caught the gaze of his visor and held it. She wanted to get this right, he realized. She wanted him to believe her. “Maybe because men who didn’t have a choice in choosing this life deserve something good once in a while.”

Speechless, that’s what he was. She said it so plainly and without artifice. Fox knew she meant it, every word.

“I see,” he replied, voice quiet and low. “Well, allow me to express my gratitude and that of my men. It may not seem like much, but those sweets were the first gift any of those men have ever received. It might be the only one.”

“You’re very welcome, Commander Fox.” Her voice was quiet too, her eyes soft and understanding. How Fox wished he could get lost in them for more than just a few minutes. It was time to go. Now.

“You’ll excuse me then, Ms. Blunt, for taking up your time. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I’ll see myself out.” Fox made to do just that, not leaving her a chance to say anything in return. He was almost to the door when-----

“Commander, could I ask a favor?”

Fox stopped, then looked over his shoulder. Here it comes. “What is it?”

Arissa gulped, her nerves showing once more. Fox smirked. Already in such a short amount of time, Fox knew he’d enjoy setting her on edge on a regular basis. It was a shame their paths likely wouldn’t cross again.

“I know this may seem silly, but would you be willing to write a short note to my daughter? I know it’d mean the world to her to hear how much the troopers that helped us enjoyed the cookies.”

“Can’t you just tell her?”

“I could,” she allowed. “But she might think I’m lying. Sometimes she has a hard time believing things if she doesn’t have evidence. Finding out you came to tell me yourself just how much the gift was appreciated will be suspect without some kind of proof.”

“Is your daughter really that cynical?”

Arissa laughed, shaking her head. Fox had to admit she had a lovely laugh. Fett, he was going soft. “No, not cynical, commander. Just a child who needs encouragement that something is real when she’s had so many other disappointments.”

While Fox was curious as to what she meant by that statement, he didn’t ask. Honestly, what was the harm in writing the kid something? There was none. Besides, he was more than happy to do it.

“Well, I’d hate to disappoint.”

The smile she gave him made an answering one pull at his lips. Thankfully, his helmet hid the sight. Yeah, this was definitely not good.

------

“Mommy! You’re home!” Gemma squealed in happiness as Arissa stepped through the door. Arissa was barely inside before her five-year-old daughter wrapped her tiny arms around her torso and squeezed.

Arissa paused, soaking the moment in. A smile pulled at her lips while the hint of tears teased her eyes. This right here made everything worth it. The ridiculously long days. The demeaning remarks and catty behavior from her coworkers. This was her why, the reason she kept putting up with everything.

She wrapped her arms around Gemma and squeezed back. “Hello to you too, Gemma. Did you miss me?”

“Yes!” Gemma pulled back, her strawberry blonde curls bouncing in her excitement. “Did you miss me?”

Arissa chuckled, ruffling her daughter’s hair. “Yes, sweetie.”

“Welcome home, Arissa. Long day?”

Arissa glanced up, making eye contact with the teenager lounging on the lumpy pale green couch in the apartment space that served as a living room. She barely withheld a grimace, thinking back over her day. “Just the usual, Trix.”

Although it really hadn’t been. Not when a certain unsettling clone commander decided to pop in and pay an unexpected visit. Gods, she’d thought for a moment there she’d done something wrong, that somehow the gift Gemma had practically begged her to make was illegal. Panic had filled Arissa, assuming the worst. But then he’d thanked her. Thanked her. Like a box of ginger spice cookies was the best gift his men had ever received. That wasn’t really too far off the mark, though, was it? And that black visor. When he’d held her gaze, Arissa had felt as if she were naked. She couldn’t remember anyone ever making her fell that way. Definitely not something one wants to feel upon meeting a commanding officer of the GAR.

Shaking her head, Arissa focused back in on the present. “Did the two of you eat yet?”

Trix suddenly appeared uncomfortable, a look of guilt flashing in her eyes. “Yeah, we did. I, um, thought it’d be nice to treat Gemma to something. We went to Dex’s Diner and had the works. Saved some for you, too.”

While she knew why Trix might feel guilty, Arissa couldn’t fault the teenager for spending the money instead of eating the leftovers in the fridge. A year of being homeless and dodging traffickers and drug dealers had done a number on Trix. The kid’s useless father had abandoned her just days after her mother passed away. And the lower levels of Coruscant were not kind to the young and innocent. Arissa knew this fact quite well. Trix was finally getting back on her feet, working at a local bakery to make some money while attending school at night to finish her primary education. She lived in the third bedroom and watched Gemma when Arissa had to work late. And Trix positively adored her. So if Trix wanted to spoil Gemma with a night of burgers and shakes, Arissa wasn’t going to complain. She was far too grateful for the help to even think of chastising the teenager for splurging.

“That sounds like a lot of fun. Thanks for thinking of me,” She smiled at Trix, hoping the teenager understood she wasn’t mad. “I can’t remember the last time I had Dex’s. Is it as good as I remember?”

Gemma giggled. “Even better! Oh, and we got to meet Dex. Did you know he’s a besalisk? I’ve never seen one before. He answered all my questions, too. Didn’t act like I was a bother or anything.”

“Of course he wouldn’t. Because he realized right away what a bright and inquisitive mind you have, sweetie.” Arissa’s heart warmed at the kindness the diner owner had unknowingly extended her daughter. Gemma truly was inquisitive, wanting to know anything and everything. And amazingly she remembered it all. However, there were some people who found the girl’s nearly constant questions an annoyance and something to discourage. It was why she’d done so poorly in school until transferring into a private academy. Thank the maker for that scholarship. She bent over and lifted Gemma up, holding the young girl as she made her way to their small kitchen table. “Now spill. How was your day?”

Asking Gemma that question was all the kiddo needed to start regaling her mother with the events of the day. Arissa listened attentively as she went about putting her dinner together. She laughed when Gemma explained how a boy in her class had water come out of his nose during lunch and praised her when told how she’d received perfect marks on yesterday’s exam. Trix stayed with them for a while, interjecting comments here and there before retreating to her room to start on her school work. They wished the sixteen-year-old good night as mother and daughter both knew they likely wouldn’t see the teenager again until morning. Arissa was done with her dinner and working on a mostly thawed nerf milkshake by the time Gemma asked how her day went.

Arissa had thought long and hard how she wanted to present her surprise. She pulled the note from her back pocket and slid it across the table’s surface. “I had an unexpected visitor today. He asked me to give you this.”

Curious, Gemma carefully unfolded the note. Even at such a young age she handled everything with a great deal of care. Violet eyes scanned the note, then widened in shock. When Gemma finally looked back up she was smiling from ear to ear. “He wrote a note. He really wrote a thank you note!”

The smile breaking across Arissa’s face almost hurt. Seeing her daughter’s happiness at something so small was beyond precious. Mentally, she filed the image away to remember when the moody teenager years hit. “I was told not to read it. That it was top secret until your eyes saw what was inside. Think you could read it to me?”

Gemma nodded enthusiastically.

“It says: Dear Miss Gemma. Thank you for the lovely gift of ginger spiced cookies. I have shared your present with the troopers involved in the skirmish four rotations ago in the market. They were very surprised and grateful for your thoughtfulness. They rarely get a thank you for their work. Your mother tells me you are a bright student and love to learn new things. Did you know that members of the guard love uj cake? I highly recommend trying it. Please continue to do your part as a good and loyal citizen of the Republic.

Sincerely,

Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard.”

The excitement radiating off of Gemma was contagious. She truly was happy from Commander Fox’s words. Arissa sent a silent thank you to the commander for taking the time to fulfil her request. Maybe she could find a way to let him know how much his note meant. But he must be very busy. Why would he care about any of this?

If he didn’t care, why would he bother in the first place? He could have said no.

“Do you think I could write a reply, mommy?” Gemma asked. “Maybe we could make them some uj cake since they like it so much and leave a note with it like before.”

That made Arissa pause. “Perhaps. But don’t you think the rest of the guard might get jealous when only a few of them get to have some?”

Gemma’s brow furrowed as she contemplated that possibility. “I guess you’re right. I know I wouldn’t like it if only a few of my classmates kept getting something and I didn’t.” Then her face brightened. “Maybe we could make some for everyone! That way no one felt left out. Oh but,” Gemma frowned as she realized something. “That wouldn’t work either. There’s so many of them, aren't there?”

Arissa hmmed, feeling her heart squeeze with regret as her daughter’s face fell. For someone so young, she truly had a compassionate and giving nature. She wanted everyone to be happy. “I’m not sure how many there are, but yes, there are a lot of men in the guard. Far too many for us to make enough for everyone. I’m sorry sweetie.”

The evening wore on, the hours passing as the world outside transitioned from day to night. Despite her disappointment, Gemma managed to recover. They played a few games, took care of Gemma’s bath, and cuddled on the couch to watch a silly holomovie before Arissa announced it was time for bed. Arissa read a story of her daughter’s choosing, sang her a song, and kissed her good night. Once Arissa left the room, she’d make a cup of tea and curl up on the couch with a book, losing herself in the passionate romance of her current novel before heading to bed as well. It was like so many other night’s, this ritual their evenings had become. But tonight would be different.

“Mommy?”

Arissa paused, turning back to face her daughter. Only the top of her head and her eyes were visible above the fuzzy purple comforter she’d cocooned into. “What is it, sweetie?”

“Will you please tell Commander Fox thank you for writing me that note? I really did like it. And I think he’d like to know that, too.”

The breath whooshed out of Arissa’s lungs. She hadn’t expected this. But how could she refuse? “Of course, Gemma. I’ll tell him tomorrow. Now, get some sleep. You have a big day at school in the morning.”

“Can you make rainbow berry pancakes for breakfast?”

Arissa couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped, Gemma’s tone was just too hopeful. “I think I can manage that. Now, sleep little one.”

Gemma giggled, happy at her mother’s answer. “Okay, okay. Good night, Mommy. I love you.”

“I love you too, Gemma.”

Arissa closed the door and made her way to the kitchen. She tinkered around the small space, getting things ready for the morning while her tea water boiled, then steeped. Once finished, she grabbed the old and worn romance novel off her caf table, the flimsi pages yellowed with age. She happily made herself comfortable on the couch as she dove into the world of high passion…..

Five minutes later, Arissa was back in the kitchen, a notepad open to a clean page while her holopad came to life. She scrubbed a hand over her face, sighing. “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.” As soon as the piece of technology was up and running, she began bringing up Republic military records, trying to get an accurate head count of how many men filled the ranks of the Coruscant Guard.

------

Now, while Arissa was toiling away at the kitchen table trying to work out a plan to fulfill her daughter’s wish, said daughter was busy working on another matter instead of sleeping.

Gemma waited for her holopad to boot up, reading the note from Commander Fox almost obsessively. She’d never thought in a million years her mother would come home with any kind of news about the gift she’d begged her to make. Instead, she’d brought home a note. A note! Gemma very quietly giggled, pressing her face into her pillow to better muffle the noise. She was in the next star system from how happy that little piece of flimsi had made her. The five-year-old sent a desperate plea to the gods, asking them for the chance to meet this Commander Fox. Yes, she’d asked her mom to thank him, but she wanted the chance to tell him herself how much his note meant to her. And she wanted to show him just how much she could learn when she set her mind to it.

Finally the holopad came on and Gemma brought up a search engine. Adults were always so surprised when they saw how well she could navigate tech at her age. For whatever reason, it was astonishing. Gemma didn’t pretend to understand why. Carefully, she typed in uj cake, then hit search. She skimmed over a promising article. It did sound rather yummy. Perhaps she could convince her mom to help her make some after school tomorrow and she could share it with the class. The kids would probably like that. Maybe it’d help her make a few friends.

The article said the recipe came from Mandalore. Intrigued, Gemma decided to search the planet, not knowing what she was getting herself into. What she read fascinated her. Hours went by and Gemma refused to sleep, far too invested in learning more about this old creed of warriors. She had only nodded off when her mother came to wake her, far earlier than usual.

Gemma’s groggy eyes met her mother’s. “What is it, mommy? Is something wrong?”

Arissa shook her head, a hint of mischief lighting her eyes. “No, sweetie. I just needed your help with something. How would you like to help me make some uj cake this morning? I think a certain clone commander would appreciate it.”

It took a moment for Gemma’s sleepy brain to understand exactly what her mother was saying. When she did, she shot out of bed so fast she almost knocked her mother over. Excitement took care of the exhaustion she’d felt just moments ago.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, then dashed out the door to the kitchen, her mother’s laughter following after her.

What neither realized then was how their actions that morning would come to shape the rest of their lives.....and those throughout the galaxy.

#commander fox #commander fox x original character #original female character #clone x ofc #I am so freaking excited this is finally up and going

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tsukikento · 5 years ago

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Empathetic Ch. 3

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Summary: After your mom, the number 1 hero in America, gets offered a teaching position at U.A., you two pack up your things and head to Musutafu, Japan to start a new life. Pressure for you in America was at an all-time high, and now you're in Japan, where almost no one knows you, or your family's past.

This tale starts on your first day of class where your new teacher decides the best way for you to fit in is to fight against the strongest person in your class: Bakugou Katsuki.

Warnings/Genre: This piece will feature some angst and reference to an abusive parent, if you are ever worried about other tw’s feel free to send me an ask and I will let you know. There will also be fluff, slight angst, pining, and slowburn

A/N: This is also posted on ao3 under @allie_win. I’m transferring it over here, pls let me know if you like it! I love your comments! Just a note that any italics means thoughts.

(series masterlist)

As someone who could manipulate emotions, it was hard not to be an emotional person. Everything you felt was tenfold what another person could feel.

It could be great! Like when you were happy or serene. But it could also be bad, like when you were anxious or depressed.

It took you quite some time for you to be able to control your emotions. You had to make sure you didn’t get too excited in front of others because it could freak people out. It was even worse when you were dealing with more negative emotions. You also had to make sure you had coping mechanisms for when you were stressed, in order to function like others. The hardest to fight against was your anger.

You worked hard throughout the years to keep your fury and rage down.

You still remembered sparring with your brother when he was 15 and you were 11. He had beat you time and time again and eventually you were so angry that you let yourself slip and charged straight at him. He easily blasted you back with his flames and scarred your midriff with a burn that was still healing.

You had felt crazy, like you couldn’t control anything. Your emotions swept you up like ocean waves and tumbled you through a sea of hatred. Finally, you got a better hold of concealing and coping with such emotions, and anger was one you thought you mastered.

And yet, here you were. Up in your room at 2 in the morning, reliving your conversation with Bakugou from an hour ago, comparing your anger from a few hours ago to the anger you felt when you were 11.

You felt like such an idiot, and you had no one to blame but yourself. You were one who got angry first. Not Bakugou. You can’t say that Bakgou’s anger made you angry because he simply asked you a question. You wished you could take it back. You wished you could have just told Bakugou that it’s sad and a bit personal, but that maybe one day you would tell him. Then you could have thanked him for the food and cleaned the dishes.

But no. Your loud mouth just had to get mad. How dare he ask you a question that was obviously personal?

You sighed and rotated in your bed, pushing your face into your pillow and groaning. You felt like such an idiot and you knew you should apologize, but apologizing to Bakugou was more than difficult. Why would he, in the first place, wanna talk to you? And on top of that, when you apologized, he would probably just laugh in your face, call you a moron, and walk away.

Fuck.

You grabbed your phone and turned on a playlist that helped you fall asleep. You let the music take you away, hoping that your next day was better, seeing as it was only the second school day of the week.

Tuesday started quickly.

You had forgotten to set an alarm and was woken up 30 minutes before you had to leave for class. You jumped out of bed and thanked Ashido for waking you before throwing on your school uniform and making sure your earbuds were still in.

You knew you had enough time to get ready but were disappointed in not being able to go on your morning run. You had washed your face last night and decided to skip doing it again because you were low on time and not very sweaty without your morning run.

You grabbed a select amount of toiletries as well as your school bag and rushed downstairs. You brushed your teeth, fixed your hair, and applied minimal makeup in the communal bathroom. You opted for leaving everything in the bathroom because you were out of time. Once ready, you grabbed one of the many protein bars in the kitchen and followed Ashido and Toru outside.

From there, the day slowed down drastically.

With no morning run to wake you up, your brain was running on nothing and the lectures you had throughout the day dragged on. It especially didn’t help that your whole body ached from your argument. Your mind clouded itself with thoughts of what you could have done better. Your stomach churned at the thought of how much Bakugou must hate you now. And your heart begged to go back in time and answer Bakugou no matter how personal.

Dumb.

People are not supposed to listen to their hearts all the time for a good reason. Telling Bakugou would have been a bigger mistake than how you actually reacted.

At one point, you decided to get up and take a walk to the bathroom, hoping it would wake you up. However, you quickly realized that you still had no idea where anything was and so after wandering for a couple of minutes, you decided to give up and just go back to class.

When you came back in, the sound of the door caused a few people to look towards you, Bakugou being one of them. You couldn’t read his face, but he watched you go back to your desk while everyone else was already looking back up at Aizawa-sensei.

You felt your face flush. You were too prideful and anxious to actually apologize to Bakugou. But you were disappointed in yourself for reacting the way you did. You spared a glance back to the blonde boy who was now writing down something in his notebook. His eyebrows furrowed together and he was biting his bottom lip.

What is he so focused on?

You thought about taking out your earbuds, but decided against invading his privacy. Sometimes it’s better to just leave someone alone.

By lunch, you felt like you were about to fall asleep. However, the sweet and savory aroma of Lunch Rush’s food quickly woke you up. You grabbed a caffeinated drink as well as a hearty meal that would help balance your lack of nutritious food that day. You also knew you were going to have to work out after class and grabbed some fruits and another protein bar for later.

You didn’t contribute much to the conversation during lunch because you were busy eating, but Ashido and Hagakure were talking enough for the three of you. This time you sat at a bigger table with Momo Yaoyorozu and Kyoko Jirou. Neither girl talked as much as Ashido and they could tell you were too tired to answer any questions they may have for you.

During the latter end of lunch, Momo did ask you a few questions about your quirk and your fighting style considering how well you did against Bakugou.

“Oh, honestly, I’m just lucky he didn’t know my quirk. I’m sure that if he knew my quirk then he would be able to get the upper hand,” You replied as Toru complimented you on the fight.

“That may be true, but you also waited to put him asleep. If you battled him again, the second you touched him, he would be done for,” Jirou retorted, playing with her aux as if it was hair.

“I guess so,” You started, “But some people are better at fighting against my quirk. For example, if someone needs help to sleep, I can help them with no friction. But for people who don’t want to, I have to be touching them for them to stay asleep and I have to concentrate more. In fact, if I battled Bakugou again, he might see that move coming and be so resistant that it could drain me enough for him to send an explosion my way and push me back.”

Momo gasped at your analysis. “You know your quirk so well!”

"Yeah, I’m trying to understand it and make it stronger every day,” You replied.

“Ooh, ooh!” Ashido interjected, way too excited for how drained you still felt. “Try and make me sleep, I’ll try my hardest to stay awake.”

You laughed, closed your eyes, and grabbed her hand. The process starts with you calming her down. Slowly and slowly you eased her of all her stresses and worries. When you change people’s emotions, you can sometimes see the colors. Red and purples vanished, being replaced by cool tones of blue. Ashido’s breathing slowed down and you knew her heart rate was slowing down as well. She was trying her best to resist, but it was fruitless. It was like a light switch appeared, brighter than everything else. If you flipped the switch, she would fall asleep. You used your powers to flip the switch, she fell asleep, and the blues turned darker to show you she was no longer conscious.

The rest of the table erupted into giggles as Ashido started snoring.

You let go of her hand and Ashido woke up suddenly. She blinked a couple of times and looked around the table as if she had no memory of falling asleep. The table erupted into laughter again. “

Sorry,” You said between laughs.

“It’s okay,” Ashido replied cheerfully before she grabbed her drink.

"It’s amazing to see it happen up close, and so slowly too!” Momo commented, smiling brightly at you.

You bashfully accepted the compliment before Ashido grabbed everyone’s attention with a long story about something that happened at the mall the other day.

After class, you asked Ashido to show you to the training grounds seeing as you left your map of the school at home. She happily obliged and took you to the locker rooms where you grabbed your clothes from her locker and changed. You really had to ask someone where your locker was.

While you changed, she grabbed you a map of the school from the main office, and pointed out the multiple training areas. You thanked her and asked if she wanted to work out with you, but she replied that she prefers working out at night. You nodded and waved goodbye to her as you made your way to a facility with treadmills and other gym equipment.

You spent your afternoon doing a simple workout of running and muscle building. You still were too nervous to explore more into the other facilities. You also had to unpack your room so more intense training would have to wait.

By dinnertime, you were finally back in the dorms. You quickly made your way to the showers with a pair of fresh clothes to put on once clean. After showering, you washed your face and made your way back to your room.

The messy room stared back at you as you opened your door.

You groaned, knowing it would take forever to finish decorating. You put away your toiletries and dirty clothes before deciding that you needed a post workout snack.

By the time you did get around to cleaning up your room, the sky was dark and the sun was replaced by a glowing moon.

You frowned at the boxes of your belongings. You grabbed a small, white bookcase you owned and made slow work of nailing it to the wall. You started placing your books and some decorative trinkets inside. Your clothes were put away into your drawers and the closet so you spent most of your time unpacking smaller items.

After a solid two hours of work, your room looked much nicer.

Your bed was made with sheets that were gold and your duvet was white. On top of the bed was a knitted, pastel pink blanket that helped tie in the black bed frame to the bright white blanket. Your desk was right next to your bed and was quite plain with no drawers. You had textbooks on the table as well as a small, gold organizing drawer that held almost nothing. It was supposed to help with containing paperwork and old assignments, but you didn’t have any yet.

Your bookcase was on the opposite wall and was surrounded by a few old photos and posters. By your door was a shelf that you kept all your toiletries on. They were organized into small baskets so you could easily grab them. One held skincare items and your toothbrush while the other had everything you needed for showering.

You smiled at your work and decided it was enough for the day considering there were only a couple boxes left of things you just needed to shove into the empty drawer in your bed frame.

You sighed and sat on your bed, grabbing your water and taking big swigs. The clock in your room read 11:00 pm.

You still had a math assignment to finish before class tomorrow. Stupid hero school, still making us learn general education. At least it was only small assignments and no major essays or anything. Or at least you hoped there were no essays.

You grabbed your bag and pulled out a pencil and some graphing paper. You sat at your desk and opened up your textbook, slowly solving each equation. You weren’t one to stay up late, even though 11 wasn’t actually too late. You opted for working out in the morning usually so by this time you were almost always tired. The workout you did today tired you out more than woke you up, and the energy drink you had with dinner was finally wearing off.

Finally, you finished your homework and slid into bed. You were wearing comfy clothes and was too exhausted to wash your face and brush your teeth before sleep finally took you.

You woke up to your alarm the next day and made quick work of changing into your workout clothes. Your body ached slightly from the muscle-building yesterday, but you ignored the pain as you grabbed your phone and made your way downstairs.

You stepped out into the cool air and started stretching your body, hearing the cracks of bones and reveling in the feeling of your healing muscles. Once done, you looked around into the open area. You were still on the school grounds, but your building was so far away from everyone else that it felt as if you weren’t even in school.

You turned on some music and began your run. You stayed in the area, only going around the building and the nearby area. During your run, you were able to let go of any of your thoughts and worries, only focusing on your breathing and the music playing in your ears.

That was until you rounded the corner of the dorm building to come face to face with the fiery redhead in your class known as Kirishima Eijirou.

“Oh, oh! I’m so sorry!” You practically shouted as you stumbled back to prevent yourself from bumping into your stretching classmate.

Kirishima stood up and scratched the back of his head, “It’s no problem!”

However, with your music, his words were muffled and you quickly paused your music. “Sorry?”

“I just said it was no problem,” He responded, waving you off sheepishly. “Ah” You nodded.

“Thanks. I must not have been paying much attention. I don’t really know the campus yet so I was just running around here.”

“Oh, well, we do have a gym with treadmills or you could go down to the track if that’s what you are looking for,” Kirishima commented. His posture relaxed and he leaned his body weight to one side.

“Hmm, I’ll have to check out the track. I went to the gym yesterday although I prefer running outside,” You responded. “Thanks!”

“Anything to help possibly the strongest girl in our class!” Kirishima smiled brightly at you, his sharp teeth grabbing your attention.

You laughed a little too loud at that. “Jeez, that’s a big claim considering you’ve only ever seen me fight once!”

“Well, it was against Bakugou. He is first in our class technically. Although that’s probably because Todoroki and Midoriya hold back during fights,” He mumbled the last part, but you made a note to ask him more about that later.

“That doesn’t mean I am the strongest. All of us have our strengths and weaknesses,” You responded, blushing a little. It seemed like everyone here thought you were so strong. You weren’t so sure though.

“Wow, and so humble too. How honorable!” He commented.

“Stop! Seriously!” You were blushing pretty hard at this point. You weren’t complimented this heavily back home. Since more people knew your mom in America, you were usually expected to be the best, especially because your siblings were all up and coming or already succeeding heroes. Your oldest sibling was 14 years older than you and had made her debut over 10 years ago.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Kirishima responded.

“It’s okay,” You waved him off, before using your cold hands to cool down your face. “I should get back inside anyway, I still need to get ready for the day.” Kirishima nodded, waving goodbye to you as you jogged past him and up to the front steps of the dorm.

Once inside, you grabbed a glass of water and rode the elevator to the top floor. You finished the glass as you arrived in your room and set it down on the desk. You took out your earbuds before grabbing your school uniform. You placed it on top of your toiletries baskets and made your way to the bathroom.

The bathrooms were arranged quite weirdly, but you tried not to pay too much attention to it. When you entered, the bathroom was plain with 6 stalls to your left and 3 sinks to your right. There were two hand dryers as well.

Opposite to the entrance were 4 doors, each leading to a different shower. There weren’t any signs differing gender, but Ashido mentioned that almost all the girls exclusively used to one on the far left.

Besides this unusual set-up, there were also a few differences purely based on American vs. Japanese culture. For one, the stalls had no gaps between doors and walls. They looked much cleaner and modern than the bathrooms in America. On top of that, each toilet was equipped with a bidet. Before, you never had time to think about the differences, but now that you were able to casually get ready, you couldn’t stop noticing the subtle and major differences.

You showered, making sure to keep your still fairly clean hair dry, and washed your face before changing unto your uniform and stepping out into the communal area. You used the mirror in front of the sink to fix your hair and put on some makeup. You cherished how slowly you were able to get ready. The peaceful morning was something you came to love. Your house was always hectic so having your own time in the morning was your favorite.

The door to your right clicked and Uraraka proceeded to walk into the bathroom as you pinned your hair out of your face. She was still in her pajamas and smiled at you before yawning and walking into the far left shower. You waved back and then turned to face the mirror again.

Even with the wall dividing you two, you could still tell she had been thinking about her dream last night. When she turned on the shower, the sound and wall were able to cover up her thoughts enough for you to easily ignore them. You started putting on your makeup as Uraraka showered, the steam emitting from her shower slowly creeped out of the small cracks in the door. Luckily, the bathroom was too big to fog up the mirrors.

You were almost done with your makeup when the shower turned off. Through your mirror, you saw her emerge, much more awake than when she entered.

You smiled at her, “Good morning,” You spoke quietly as you sprayed your face with setting spray.

“Good morning, L/N-san,” She replied, stepping in front of the mirror to your right and brushing out her hair.

“How did you sleep?” You asked her as you stared into the mirror, making sure your makeup was perfect.

Ugh, even with eight hours, I am so tired. “Good, and you?” She responded.

You refrained from commenting on her thoughts, thinking it was best to ignore it. “I slept well, I’ve been pretty tired lately with all the changes though,” You said. You placed your clothes on top of your toiletries.

Uraraka hummed in understanding. “I’m sure you’ll be more accustomed soon.”

Just then, Bakugou walked into the bathroom and your heart began beating faster. You didn’t know if it was out of fear for the argument the other night or because his bed head was just that adorable.

Stop thinking that way! You idiot! You thought, looking away from him to focus on your makeup again.

He grumbled to himself as he walked to the sink to your left. He looked at you with a scowl on his face before looking away and turning on the hot water. You took a moment to admire his sweatpants that settled low on his hips and the old band t-shirt he wore.

What is she looking at? Bakugou thought to himself when your eyes lingered on him longer than ideal.

Fuck. Hearing people’s thoughts can be so embarrassing. Maybe I should have the support group here make me some water-proof ones, you thought as Bakugou’s thoughts meddled and surpassed Uraraka’s more peaceful and quiet ones.

Stupid morning. I hate this! I need a nap and it’s only 8:00 in the morning! It’s too early for this! Bakugou thought as he splashed his face with hot water.

You giggled to yourself. Maybe it isn’t too bad hearing people’s thoughts. When Bakugou heard you, he made quick work of glaring at you. He noticed you weren’t wearing your earbuds because your hair was pinned back.

His eyes formed slits as he stared at you. Do you like reading my thoughts, shit face? You better stop before I hit you.

You laughed again.

As he spoke to you through his thoughts, his subconscious thoughts and feelings also poked through, letting you know he really wouldn’t hit you if it came down to it. Honestly, it felt pretty good knowing that.

“Bakugou, you can talk to me through your thoughts, but I can still hear your subconscious thoughts. I know you wouldn’t really hit me in front of people.” You replied.

Uraraka looked at you confused before she remembered you could hear thoughts.You heard her thoughts panic for a moment over whether or not you were listening to her thoughts. Uraraka still didn’t know you very well and was worried if you would use this against her, which didn’t settle very well with you.

However, before you could become too concerned with Uraraka, Bakugou spoke again.

“Whatever,” He mumbled before starting to brush his teeth rather violently. However, his thoughts were much more upset over the idea that you were able to beat him in his own game.

Although nervous, you felt better about being able to get through your conversation with Bakugou. His thoughts didn’t make him seem that angry and he wasn’t thinking about that night so maybe he didn’t care. Or maybe he was too tired to be thinking properly.

You grabbed your items and made your way to the door. “Bye,” You spoke as you opened the door even with full hands and made your way back to your dorm room. Once inside, you placed your things back on the shelf and put your clothes into your hamper. You had left your towel in the bathroom to dry.

You packed up your bag for the day and made your way downstairs with your backpack and the water glass. You still had 20 minutes to make breakfast so you started whipping up something quick. You thought about whether or not you should make food for other people, but decided against it when you only saw Aoyama and Tokoyami on this floor. You never even talked to them before. And who knew who was already at school or already ate?

You finished the savory meal and quickly cleaned the pan and spatula before the food had a chance to stick to it and cool down. You grabbed chopsticks from the drawer and filled your water glass before digging in. You finished just in time to clean the bowl and chopsticks. You grabbed your bag and rushed out the door. You didn’t see Ashido or Toru so you just walked by yourself and put on some music.

Within a couple of minutes, you were in the classroom and met the faces of almost everyone in the class. You quickly took your seat and pulled out your notebook and pen before turning off your music.

You took a deep breath and looked around the sea of people. Midoriya and Iida were at Uraraka’s desk, talking about this and that. Ojirou was quietly talking with Toru while Ashido animatedly talking to Kirishima. Momo was quietly reading a book while Kaminari and Jirou shared music together through earbuds.

Once Aizawa entered the class, everyone sat back down in their respective seats and quieted down. His dry eyes stared back at the class. “So,” He began, “Elemental has been going to all the other classes for the last couple days, but today she is visiting our class. So, here she is,” His voice was gravely, as if he just woke up.

In walked your mom with a bright smile. “Hello everyone,” She waved her hand. Her posture was similar to All Might’s. She commanded the room and everyone looked at her.

You quickly took off your earbuds, unable to resist hearing people’s thoughts at first seeing your mom.

Wow, she looks even stronger in person! You looked at Midoriya’s glowing eyes as he gushed over her.

Dang, she looks cool, Jirou thought.

Ugh, I still don’t get what all the hype is about, Bakugou thought as he stared at your mom. He felt your eyes on him and looked at you, glaring because he could see you weren’t wearing your earbuds. What are you looking at, huh? You mad I don’t love your mom?

You glared back at him, wishing your quirk went both ways so you could retaliate.

Bakugou smirked, realizing she couldn’t respond to him. Huh? It’s kind of nice not being able to hear your retorts. This is pretty godda-

You angrily put your earbuds back in. Fuck you, you thought harshly. Maybe if you thought hard enough, you would get the thought across him.

You looked back at your mom who was in the middle of a speech.

“So, to summarize, I am here to help with people whose quirks revolve around elements. Like, Todoroki-san or Kaminari-san.” She finished.

Aizawa stepped up from the background. “The students in this class who will be attending meetings with Elemental will be Todoroki, Bakugou, Kaminari, Asui, and Uraraka. Some of you for more obvious reasons than others. These practices will be taking place after lunch starting this Friday. You will spend three hours working with her every Monday and Friday. Now, thank you for coming, Elemental. Everyone say ‘thank you.’”

“Thank you,” A chorus of students spoke.

“Of course! I’ll see some of you soon,” She replied before looking at you. In English, she spoke. “You better come see me soon, sweetheart. I miss you and want to hear all about your fight against that boy.” You blushed as everyone looked at you.

“Okay,” You mumbled, covering your red cheeks and looking down at your desk.

“Good,” Your mom replied before leaving the room.

God, it’s so like her to embarrass me whenever she can!

“Okay, let’s get to business,” Aizawa spoke, slurring his words. “Today is hero course day. Go ahead and change into your training uniforms and then meet All Might at Cityscape 2.”

The class got up and started making their way out to the changing rooms. You got up quickly and made your way to your teacher.

“Aizawa-sensei. I haven’t gotten a locker yet in the changing rooms. I was wondering if you knew which one was mine?” You timidly asked.

“Huh? Oh, let me check.” Aizawa grabbed some papers from his bag and looked through them as the class left the room. “Hmm, uhhh, here it is. Okay, you are assigned to locker 27. The lock code is 15397.”

You grabbed a pen off Aizawa’s desk and wrote the number on your hand, too afraid you would forget. “Perfect, thank you, Aizawa-sensei.”

“No problem,” He responded quietly, as if already almost asleep.

You left the room, trailing a little far behind the class. You were lucky that you remembered where the changing room was at this point so you could catch up easily. You were the last person to enter the changing room and you went over to Ashido to grab your clothes.

“I found out what locker I have,” You said to her as you grabbed your clothes from her locker.

“Nice!” She replied. “Which one is it?”

“27,” You responded. You looked up to see Ashido was locker 176. “I guess I should go find it.” You wandered away, turning the corner to find your locker. When you found it, you realized you were right by Jirou and Tsu. You smiled at the two girls before unlocking the locker and changing into your clothes.

They didn’t smell too bad, but you knew you were going to need to wash them sooner than later. Maybe you would even sweat enough today that you would need to wash them today. Where do I even go to wash clothes? You wondered as you tied up your shoes. You made a mental note to ask someone where the laundry room was.

Just then, Ashido and Toru turned the corner to greet you. “Ready to go to Cityscape, Y/N-chan?” Toru asked you.

“Yeah,” You responded as you stood up.

“Perfect, let’s go!” Ashido spoke as she turned on her heel and led you and Toru out of the lockers.

Jirou and Momo were ahead of you as well as a few guys from the class that you hadn’t really talked to yet. Toru was telling Ashido and you a story about Ojirou. Ironically, he was one of the guys ahead of you. You couldn’t see her, but you were sure that if you could, she would be blushing.

Eventually, you exited the building and walked just a bit longer to the training ground. More students were already there. It seemed like the class was only waiting on Kaminari and Sero. Everyone stood in front of All Might, talking quietly as they waited for the last two students. Soon enough, they came running towards the group, mumbling something about forgetting Aizawa said Cityscape 2 and not Cityscape 1.

“Ha Ha Ha!” A loud and deep voice laughs. You look over to see All Might in his flexed form. He was standing tall, his chest was pushed forward, and his hands were on his hips.

You ‘awed’ at the sight. You had never seen him in this form in person and you knew it must hurt him to do it. Even just his body was captivating and loud, demanding everyone’s eyes. He was smiling so brightly one second and then the next-

Poof.

All Might was now back to his regular self. His uniform swallowed him up and his lanky body now stood in front of the class. Even though it was only for a minute, you were more than ecstatic to be able to see his flexed form. You looked at the class around you, their faces hardly changed as they saw him go between forms. They must have been so used to it by now, considering it had been almost a year since his fight with All for One.

“Let’s get started today, young students!” All Might spoke, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Today, we are utilizing your quirks in a classic game of capture the flag.”

#boku no hero academia #boku no hero headcanons #my hero academia #my hero academy #bakugo #bakugou #bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha fanfiction

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bowieandqueen11 · 5 years ago

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Underwater / Ben Hanscom Imagine

Request: May I request an Adult Ben Hanscom imagine where the reader, who is married to Ben, is down in the sewer with the Losers and gets pulled under water by Penniwise? Our man Ben needs some reassurance from his wife that she's okay. Fluffyness! 🥰

@may85 eek thank you darling!! <3

Warning, some swearing!

You wished, with all your heart, that you never had to smell the stench of this place again.

When you all finally arrived into the depths of the sewer, Mike and Bill leading the way as everyone else trailed so slowly, so unsure, behind them, that’s when you finally allowed your heart to sink.

This was real. This was actually happening. You’re no longer thirteen, you no longer have an excuse, a way out, a way to forget this. You either die here, or you die out there.

The water the gang jumps down into is a turbid brown, the colour of sewage, or as Eddie fondly calls out again,

‘It’s still the same old fucking grey water.’

Branches have been blow in by the storm, and you gag a little, pressing your face into your husband’s thick back as he raises his eyebrows, wrapping one arm around your own as the two of you watch a small, glittery pink shoe swirl pass, like a relic from a time long forgotten as it floats by without a ripple.

‘Was that- was that Betty Rip-’

‘Don’t think about it hun’, Ben whispers, his thumb trying to tenderly stroke against the goosebumps that flash painfully against your arm, but his grip is tighter than he realises and he ends up digging in a small welt. The water eddies around them, but not that relaxed way water usually does: harshly, more like mini vortexes. You can hear Richie swear softly in front of you as Eddie bumps into him, loud ‘ah-ah, nope nope nope’s escaping his mouth as a half chewed teddy bear floats by his chest.

‘Come on guys, we need to get out of the water, it’s n-not f-far now.’

‘Is that supposed to reassure us?’, Richie whispers with a sigh, slapping his wet leg up onto the jagged stone mound as Eddie reaches down to help him up, his flashlight bouncing around on his head and illuminating different patches of the water in a shimmering light that reminds you of-

the deadlights.

Cold water is the most efficient thief of heat you know. It takes what it does not need. The water surges around your skin, rising up my leg on one side, making tiny eddies on the other the further you follow your friends. The weight of the water is almost enough to topple you, the temperature a dare, as if you were racing hypothermia with each wade through its murky depths. In front of you, your husband shivered against your arm, the water so cold it stung into his hips and flattened his shirt against him painfully. Every touch stole another part of his heat, leaching away a few more fractions of a degree. It crept up the fabric of his pants, clamping the icy fibres to his already frigid skin. But he kept going, because he knew in doing this, he could save you. And if killing a clown meant your nightmares would end, that you would be safe again, he would take on the universe one monster at a time.

Sensing your hesitation as the two of you finally start approaching the giant wall of rock where Eddie and Richie stand, brushing each other off with grimaced faces, Ben slowly turns around and pulls you slowly to him, wrapping his arms around you. His embrace was warm, and his big, strong arms seemed very protective when wrapped around your shaking body. The world around seemed to melt away as you squeezed him back, not wanting the moment to end. The simple touch sent a wave of butterflies coursing through your veins, their fluttering wings easing the dread that had settled inside you.

‘I can’t do this Ben, not again, not after last time. What I saw-I saw-’

‘You are so brave, sweetheart, but this time, I’m not leaving you alone for a second. Plus,’ he says, elbowing you slightly with the biggest smile he can muster at the moment, ‘if you see the deadlights, I’ll just have to kiss you again to pull you out and back to me.’

‘Ben Hanscom, I swear!’, you mutter with a hoarse laugh, pulling your arms around his neck and burying your head into the curve of his shoulder. You just needed a moment, just one more moment with your husband in your arms, his hands tight against your hips, safe.

Everything was okay.

Through the darkness behind your head came the glow of two yellow eyes, like sallow lamplight eight feet off the ground, if only Ben’s had been open to see them, and if only Richie and Eddie hadn’t been having a mock fight over who’s married to who’s mother.. They moved with a slight sway, as if the unseen body prowled like a big cat. The monster advanced on them, its physique hardly discernible in the shadowy twilight of the sewer. With each slow movement that belied the speed it was capable of, slime dripped, oozing great globs of phlegm and depositing them with light splashes into the water; it’s skin was gnarled, but crumpled and folded as if in the midst of changing form. Over it's belly lay crusty flaps of concave skin. The beast reeked of raw sewage and rotten fish. A smell that hit your nose with a rancid pang only a few seconds before it had reached the edge of your shoulder, and Ben had drawn himself away from his warm daydreams of you to open his eyes.

In a split second, it had torn you from Ben’s grasp and dragged you down into the depths with it.

Darkness enveloped you. The water closed in around, filling you with a deep dread as you kicked out against it’s knobbly arms and screamed against the claws that dug into your cheek and left bubbling scratches. Red and black splotches danced in front of you as you gave the clown one final desperate kick in the shin, wiggling out of its grasp as a desperate hot wave enveloped you, warming even your frosted toes. Your heart was beating rapidly in panic, the urgency for air was apparent than ever. There weren't red blotches in your field of vision anymore. It was all black. You opened her mouth, gasping for air, fighting until you feel like your head is about to explode. You have to take a breath. So you do. For some reason it doesn’t hurt like you thought it would. You’re not scared anymore, it’s almost peaceful actually.

You begin to fall, dropping further and further into the darkness until it threatens to swallow you whole.

Ben knows he’s scared when those old fears run through my head, when he hears the taunting laughter of years past, when he was the ‘fat kid’ and punchline of teenage jokes. He knows he’s scared when these bad memories cut loose their chains and invade his confidence, eroding the person he had built since those dark days.

But this time was so much worse.

The adrenaline flew over his veins like licks of fire, but he couldn’t move a single muscle, not even to scream. The absolute horror completely paralysed him, and the more he thought about losing you, the more he thought each straggling breathe he pulled in as he dipped his head up above the water would be his last. If you died, he was going to die too. He didn’t remember being that scared in his life.

The rest of the group jump in after you with desperate cries, not one of them caring in the smallest bit for their safety as their stomachs and heads hit against the cold with tumultuous crashes and wake Ben from his nightmare, his own head being pulled down by his brain to desperately search for you in the darkness. Even Eddie dipped his legs in, not really swimming to search for you so much as drowning slowly. Every few strokes he was swallowing the shitty water and within metres he was fully submerged, the light dying out with him.

It took you a few moments to register that there were other shapes, big square blocks floating around in the water with you. Something in the back of your mind seemed to recognise the sandy curls that brushed against your forehead, the callused and raw hands that grabbed at your biceps, every pinprick touch registering a shock to your skin as you allowed yourself to be taken away. You thought, as you see the face of your husband warp in front of you, that angels had finally come to take you away.

As the two of you break out of the water, Ben taking in a massive, gasping breathe, his shouts echo around the cavernous walls as the other’s begin to rise up one by one with shaking cries.

‘She’s here! She’s here, I’ve got her! I’ve got you.’

In that simple moment he wrapped his arms around you and you let your head rest upon his chest. All your thoughts stopped as if your heart took over from your head, your breathe beginning to catch itself as water spluttered up from your lungs and escaped in gasping coughs out of your lips. Next he would squeeze as if he needed to check you were really there with him, really there and really real.

You looked sharply up as he took your hands into his. They felt like sandpaper or perhaps stone, rough and unfinished. It suited him, you thought, looking into his deep eyes, his hands warm in yours as he brought them up to his lips, your nerves tingling at the harsh comfort of contact, your body melting into his hard chest, his heartbeat comforting, if a little rushed for your liking.

‘It’s okay, Ben, I’m okay.’

You pull your head back to look at him, your heart sinking as you reach up with a shaking finger to wipe away the tears that littered down his cheek, his lips twitching as your touch brings more relief than his heart can hold. He is eating you with his eyes, running his hand through your hair, as if he can't quite believe you’re not part of an almost forgotten dream. When he leans down to kiss you, it's sweet, gentle, and it tastes of his salty tears as he laughs against your warm mouth.

‘Hey, what did I say about not leaving you alone ever again? Please, don’t go, don’t go ever again, I couldn’t take it.’

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syntheticpoetry · 4 years ago

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And the World Spins Madly On, Chapter 12

Summary: A few weeks after visiting Kurt in New York and confessing to cheating Blaine is attacked and left for dead, resulting in a traumatic brain injury. Burt finds him on his way home from work and calls Kurt to deliver the news. How will Kurt help Blaine pick up the broken pieces when his own heart is still so conflicted?

And The World Spins Madly On (ff.net link if you’d like to leave a review!)

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11

The entirety of the two-and-a-half-hour movie passed by in a hazy blur. If Kurt was being honest, he did not think it possible that any of them had been able to pay attention to any of the details at all. They had simply taken to their collective silence and continued through the motions only to maintain some pretense of normalcy. Blaine had remained asleep, nuzzled securely against Kurt’s chest, through the entire film, oblivious to the stolen glances that Kurt was pretending not to notice. On more than one occasion he caught Cooper’s gaze lingering for longer than the conspicuous number of seconds that everyone else felt was customary, his expression completely indiscernible. As the end credits began to scroll across the screen, they remained in silence. No one seemed to want to make the first move. After about a minute of background music, Cooper finally spoke.

“Kurt, let me help you get him to bed?”

Kurt recognized that tone, the overly protective ‘we need to talk’ voice, and picked apart the unspoken request between his words. He had bought himself over two hours to sift through the tidal wave of thoughts swirling around his mind and still did not feel ready for the conversation, but he nodded. Cooper crossed the room and knelt down, trying to figure out the easiest way to go about untangling Blaine’s arms from Kurt’s torso to lift him up. As Kurt leaned forward he felt Blaine’s embrace tighten around him and looked down to see his face contorted with worry even though he remained fast asleep.

“Let me see if I can talk him into moving,” Kurt whispered and ran a hand along the length of one of Blaine’s arms. He leaned down to speak quietly in Blaine’s ear, continuing to rub his arm in an attempt to gently rouse him. “Blaine, time for bed.” Blaine scrunched up his face and turned it inwards to bury it in Kurt’s shirt, his breath warm and tranquil as it seeped in through the material against his skin. “Come on, I know you’re tired,” Kurt pressed a kiss to the top of his head and took to trying to wriggle his fingers beneath Blaine’s arms to break his hold.

“No, don’t go,” Blaine pleaded, his somnolent voice muffled as he spoke into Kurt’s chest.

“We’re going together,” Kurt replied before kissing his head again. The sea of prickly hair growing in made his lips tingle as they made contact. “Come on, this can’t be comfortable for you. Let’s go lie down, Cooper’s going to help.”

“Come on, buddy,” Cooper took his opportunity to slip his arm around Blaine’s torso after Kurt had managed to lift his arms to create a wide enough space. Blaine instinctively wrapped his arms around Cooper’s neck and whined quietly in protest, but kept his eyes closed. In one swift motion Cooper lifted him up and carefully carried him to the guest room. Kurt remained on the couch momentarily, rotating his shoulders to will away the numbness that had set in from remaining motionless in the same position for such an extended period of time while Finn finally shuffled over to the DVD player to remove the disc. As Kurt was just getting ready to stand up and follow Cooper out the sound of his father clearing his throat earned his attention instead.

“Kurt, if you ever wanna talk. About any of, you know, this stuff going on,” Burt leaned forward, clasping his hands together. He did not know when it had happened over the course of the last month, but Kurt thought he somehow looked older now. Maybe it was just exhaustion. They were all feeling it. He had been shocked to see his own reflection in the mirror earlier after his call with Isabelle, his face almost unrecognizable beneath the raw layer of puffy, pallid skin.

“I know, dad,” Kurt pressed his palms against his knees and, with great effort, managed to peel himself off of the couch. His back had never ached so much.

“So, are you two—” Burt had been interrupted when Carole swatted his arm gently. “What? I’m just asking!”

Kurt offered a feeble, half-hearted smile. “It’s… complicated. I really would rather just leave it at that right now. I’m gonna go see if Cooper needs any help.” He all but ran from the room to avoid anyone else’s response, knowing full well he needed to save his energy for the interrogation he was bound to be receiving from Cooper momentarily. He entered the guest room to discover Cooper in an unsuccessful attempt to unhook Blaine’s arms from around his neck and let out a quiet chuckle. “He did this a lot during sleepovers, here.”

Kurt approached them and began pressing his fingers into the back of Blaine’s hands, working his way up his arms and proceeded to rub small, delicate circles into his shoulders. Blaine’s grip around Cooper’s neck slackened and Kurt nodded towards one of the pillows, keeping his fingers busy working into the muscles along Blaine’s neck and upper arms, “Grab that, we’ll do a swap.” Cooper obeyed the command and after another minute of Kurt’s physical coaxing they had managed to slip the pillow between Blaine’s arms. He embraced it tightly and buried his face away from view.

“He should be okay for a little while, usually takes him at least an hour before he realizes it’s not an actual person,” Kurt rotated his shoulders again before lacing his fingers together behind his back to hold his arms into a stretch.

“You said this used to happen a lot?” Cooper watched Blaine, his expression forlorn.

“Yeah,” Kurt brought his arms forward again and folded them across his chest, observing Blaine snore softly against the pillow. “After everything he said today about your dad, I feel like it all makes more sense now when I look back.”

“What does?” Cooper pulled the blanket up around Blaine to tuck him in, pausing to press down on the pillow near his nose and mouth as though he was paranoid Blaine might suffocate himself if he kept his face buried long enough. Blaine crinkled his nose in response to the action and proceeded to bury his face deeper into the pillow instead.

“The way he clings for affection like that, for one. How he’s always looking for everyone’s approval,” Kurt sat down at the foot of the bed, keeping a fair amount of distance between him and Cooper. “I guess a lot of the way he’s acted and responded to things. I just never put much thought into it until now. I wish he’d have said something sooner.”

“He’s always held onto his secrets, even from me if he could help it,” Cooper finally tore his eyes away from Blaine to face Kurt. Kurt made a conscious effort not to squirm as they sat in silence. After a pregnant pause, Cooper added, “He told me about what happened between you two. The reason you guys broke up, I mean.”

“Before or after he became incapable of filtering his thoughts?” Kurt asked, his tone forcing the question to sound unintentionally bitter.

“After,” Cooper shook his head and sighed. “That first night alone I had with him in the hospital after he woke up. He could barely speak, but he just wouldn’t stop. He thought he imagined you being there when he woke up, kept saying it was impossible that you were actually there.” Kurt kept silent and took to watching Blaine sleep again in order to avoid having to face Cooper. “I didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to calm him down. When I tried to tell him he wasn’t imagining it he just told me I was lying. He was getting so worked up, they had to sedate him. Some small part of me thought maybe he was over exaggerating how badly things ended between you two if you were sitting there beside me, looking at him the way you did, when he was saying you weren’t supposed to be. Like maybe he was just beating himself up like he always does.”

“And the other part?” Kurt asked robotically. A dull ache surfaced from the pit of his chest as his mind wandered askew towards the scene Cooper had described. He remembered the laborious effort Blaine had overexerted himself with just to speak a few simple words, let alone complete sentences. He also remembered the look on Blaine’s face when he had almost kissed his cheek as a force of habit and an insidious thought crawled into existence from his subconscious. ‘Was it my fault for setting him off like that?’

“The other part saw how conflicted you were. Noticed how it seemed like you were holding yourself back sometimes when you were around him. Like you were trying to remind yourself not to get too close.” Kurt shifted his eyes quickly in Cooper’s direction to discover he also had been watching Blaine again as he spoke. Neither of them could bear to face each other. In his brief glance, Kurt could not help but notice the worry lines decorating Cooper’s forehead as though they had become a permanent fixture. Another uncomfortable silence blanketed them again before Cooper asked, “Was it as bad as he made it out to be, Kurt?”

“Yes,” Kurt’s reply came as a strained whisper. He cleared his throat quietly in an effort to lend some semblance of strength to his voice. “After he told me, I just tried to completely ignore him. He would call and call and call, I wouldn’t answer. I finally sent him a text telling him to leave me alone, that I didn’t care how sorry he was and I didn’t want to hear from him anymore. So he stopped. My dad would try to ask what happened and I just didn’t want to deal with it, so I told him and everyone else not to talk to me about him. That we broke up and that was that. I tried to just move on with my life in New York and completely cut him out.”

“So what’s going on with you two now? Because the way it looks to me, something’s changed. What was going on back there?”

“To be honest, I don’t know,” Kurt admitted truthfully. “It’s been confusing for me ever since I got here. I’m just trying to figure it out as I go, Coop,” He scooted closer to the two of them and brushed his fingertips over Blaine’s bicep. Blaine immediately leaned into the touch, shifting his head to rest sideways on the pillow and continued to breathe quietly into the space between them.

“Kurt, if it’s confusing for you imagine how confusing it must be for him,” Cooper replied, his tone serious and concerned. “He can’t process things the way he used to anymore. You’ve seen that. And it’s not like I think you’re taking advantage of that, but I’m just,” Cooper stood up and crossed the room, his hands on his hips. “I’m just worried.”

“I understand,” Kurt twisted around to face him, taking care not to wake Blaine. “I’m not trying to hurt him, Cooper.”

“I’m not worried about you intentionally doing it, Kurt. I’m worried he gets his hopes up while you’re figuring things out. I’m worried he gets too attached too quickly because he can’t understand what’s happening and it doesn’t end up working out between you two again. I see how good you are with him, and I’m worried I’m not gonna be able to step in and take over if I have to pick up the pieces.” Cooper paced around the room, his eyes darting everywhere but the bed. Kurt could not help but compare him to Blaine, the way he could never keep still when his nerves had surmounted past the point of manageability and he needed to resort to walking himself into a rut in the ground.

“So what are you asking of me?”

“I don’t know,” Cooper stopped and studied the wall before turning to meet his gaze. “Just be careful with him. And don’t follow through with this if you’re just reacting out of pity.”

“I still love him,” Kurt replied quietly.

“Anyone with eyes has been able to see that, Kurt,” Cooper offered him a tired smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

“I’m trying to forgive him. Trying to rationalize everything that happened, trying to come to terms with the fact that maybe it was partly my fault too. I know I was trying to actively keep him out of my life after we broke up, but imagining him completely gone from the world? Coop, it killed me to think it was a possibility that I would never get to see or talk to him again. It just— It put a lot of things into perspective for me.” Kurt swallowed hard while his heart continued to palpitate frantically. It had been nearly a month since Blaine had woken up from his coma, but the memories of uncertainty as he watched him motionlessly clinging to life for a week straight still elicited the same feelings of anxiety. He slid his hand across the comforter and placed it atop Blaine’s, trying to tether himself back down towards equilibrium again. Blaine’s fingers twitched against the pillow.

“There’s something I wanted to ask you,” Cooper replied. Kurt tilted his head quizzically and he continued, “I only have his side of things, and even that has been pretty choppy. Can you tell me your side of what happened?”

Kurt opened his mouth and closed it again. After a moment of watching Blaine continue to sleep he responded, “Can we step outside? I could use some air. I’ll ask my dad to keep an eye on him, I’m sure he won’t mind.” Cooper nodded and left the room after they agreed to meet outside. Kurt leaned over and kissed Blaine’s cheek, breathing in the scent of raspberries from their bath earlier, before rummaging through the dresser drawers. He pulled out a navy blue hooded pullover sweatshirt and smiled as his eyes fell upon the image imprinted on the front of it. He ran his fingers fondly over the large Dalton logo before pulling it over his head and venturing off to find his father. Burt and Carole were still in the living room with Finn. Without the background noise of the movie it became completely obvious what their conversation must have entailed when the three of them abruptly stopped speaking once Kurt had entered the room.

“Very inconspicuous,” Kurt rolled his eyes. “Dad, can you keep an eye on Blaine? Cooper and I are just gonna go chat in the backyard for a little while.”

“Sure, bud,” Burt replied and Kurt left to meet Cooper.

Though it was late November, it had been a comfortable enough night to venture out in the sweatshirt he had borrowed from Blaine. Kurt pulled out a chair at the garden table and took the seat across from Cooper. He leaned back and brought one knee up close to his chest, hooking his arms around him so he could hold it steady and rest his chin atop it. Cooper leaned forward with his hands folded together on the table, waiting patiently. Kurt sifted through his memory of the chain of events leading up to that horrible night back in early October, having re-examined some things with new eyes within the last few weeks.

“I guess I should start with before I moved to New York,” he finally settled on. “I don’t know if he talked to you at all about anything that happened before that?”

“Just that he was going to miss you when you left, nothing too much deeper than that,” Cooper replied.

“We got into a big fight a little while before I was supposed to leave. We were both sort of distant with each other, not really communicating. He accused me of cheating on him because I was texting someone, but we cleared it all up. I set us up to talk to our guidance counselor afterwards though because I felt like he still wasn’t telling me everything, and you know how he is— you have to keep pulling teeth and start sifting through all the layers of everything he pretends to be upset about before you actually get to it.” Cooper nodded and Kurt continued. “He finally said he had been so distant because he felt like all we ever talked about was New York anymore and he was trying to get used to the idea of a life without me there. I tried to reassure him, told him we would talk and visit each other all the time, and that seemed like it was enough, you know? Looking back, I guess it was a little overly ambitious and unrealistic to think that way. But at the time, it just felt like he was blowing it all out of proportion and worrying over a problem that I didn’t think existed between us. And then he tried to bring it up again closer to my graduation, wanted to talk about the fact that we were going to be in a long distance relationship, that it was going to be hard and we would have to put the work in if we wanted to make sure we would stay together. I didn’t want to hear it. In my head, we were perfectly fine. I loved him and he loved me, and so I figured that was all there was to it. I just kept… shutting him down and writing it off every single time he wanted to talk about it because I didn’t see any issues with us.”

Cooper remained motionless across from him, leaning back against his seat with his arms folded against his chest. When he offered no comments, Kurt continued. “I bombed my NYADA audition and that’s when he really encouraged me to go to New York. Told me I didn’t belong in Ohio, that I was bigger than this place and it didn’t matter that I didn’t get into my dream school because I could find somethingto do there. I asked him about us, what would happen, and he told me we would be fine. That he would be there next year and it was my time to leave because it was killing him to see me unhappy here. So, I left. And, for lack of a better phrase, I got swept up in all of it. We would Skype together and talk from time to time, but I was so caught up in everything going on once I started working at Vogue that I didn’t really notice how it was affecting him. I,” Kurt swallowed and blinked rapidly, sending a few stray tears careening down his face. “I wasn’t doing it on purpose at first, I was just… busy. And he would just keep calling or texting to the point where I couldn’t keep up and I ended up missing calls and texting him back later and later. Then when he was running for student president, I purposely ignored his call. I was at a work thing and completely forgot about the election, I figured he was calling me again just because so... I ignored it. From there it just got worse. Again, not intentionally, but it just got a lot worse. I was busier than ever, we barely had time to talk and whenever we could get on the phone with each other I kept getting interrupted and had to go again.”

“Is this around the time he surprised you in New York?” Cooper asked when Kurt had paused for another moment to collect himself again.

“Yeah. After our last call I hadn’t been expecting him for another two weeks. He showed up the next day. And I just knewsomething was off. Something felt different. But when I asked him about it he just told me it had been a long flight and everything was fine, so I didn’t push it. We went out with Finn and Rachel to a piano bar and Blaine decided to perform, but he just… broke down as the song went on. We went for a walk afterwards and that’s when he told me he had hooked up with someone because he was lonely and I just shut down after that. I didn’t want to hear a word he said. I couldn’t look at him the same way. I just kept thinking I had all of these chances to cheat on him and I didn’t because I believed in us. Yeah, I had things to keep my mind occupied, but so did he, didn’t he? It wasn’t my fault he created his entire world around me and then told me to go off and live my life.”

Kurt roughly pressed his palms against his eyes and sniffled quietly. When he dropped his hands again he saw Cooper chewing on his thumbnail, staring at the glass garden tabletop. Neither of them spoke until the momentary pause transformed into an awkward silence that made Kurt squirm uncomfortably in his seat. He gave in and was the first to break it. “What are you thinking?”

Cooper lifted his gaze as though he was just noticing Kurt was sitting across from him and pulled his thumb away from his mouth. “Just that I’m sorry that things got so fucked up between you guys.”

“Yeah, well, like I said after everything he’s said today it’s easier to look back now and recognize all of the little things I chose to just ignore or completely write off because I had no idea where he was coming from,” Kurt shrugged.

“Still,” Cooper said seriously. “Him letting his pride get in the way of being able to talk to you or me and letting things build up until they inevitably explode doesn’t exactly mean he gets a free pass.”

“I don’t think it’s pride that makes him act that way,” Kurt sat up straighter and placed his hands beneath his thighs. Though it was not the typical chilly Ohio night for the time of year, his hands were beginning to feel clumsy and stiff. “I think he’s ashamed. I’m sorry to say this, cause I know it’s your father and all, but that asshole is a fucking bully and it’s pretty obvious that’s where a lot of Blaine’s insecurities stem from.”

“No offense taken there,” Cooper held up his hands. “I was just as shocked as you were today to hear the full extent of everything.”

“I mean, I knew he and Blaine didn’t exactly get along, he’s always only hinted at that and avoided the subject of him altogether at all costs most of the time, but after everything he said today it was a moment for me where the picture came into focus just a little bit clearer. I’ve just been going back and overanalyzing every little thing now. Everything he’s said, every time I thought he was being overly clingy or blowing things out of proportion. I don’t know if he necessarily realizes it, but maybe seeing that psychiatrist will do some good. So yeah, while I’m starting to see that maybe what happened between us was also partly my fault I also don’t believe it was entirely his fault because I would also have a pretty fucked up view of the world if my dad treated me anything like the way your dad has treated him.” Kurt pulled his hands out from beneath his thighs and took to fiddling with the drawstrings of the hood.

“I just can’t believe I never noticed it,” Cooper sighed heavily. “And I can’t believe he didn’t even tell me. He opened up so much more after he tried to kill himself, but couldn’t tell me about—” Cooper stopped abruptly, clearly aware of the fact that the secret had remained between him and Blaine up until now, and tried to backtrack. But Kurt had interrupted him, his voice a fleeting whisper amongst the crickets in the empty night, “Relax, I know about it. He told me last night. And he actuallytold me, it wasn’t just another time where he couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself.”

Cooper’s shoulders slumped and he leaned his head back against the mesh backing of the chair. “He begged me not to tell our parents. Said that he made a mistake and it would never happen again. I wanted to tell them, make them see the consequences of what they did to him, but he looked so terrified, I just couldn’t. He barely trusted me, if I betrayed that trust, I thought he’d never let me back in again.”

“How did they never find out if he was a minor though?” Kurt asked.

“I told them I was his father at the hospital,” Cooper responded quietly.

“And that worked?” Kurt stared at him incredulously.

“You’ve seen how small he is now, right? He was even worse then, looked so young and thin and sick,” Cooper paused and exhaled sharply. “There’s a ten year age difference between us, so I must have looked the part enough because they didn’t question it.”

“So that’s it? They just let you guys go?”

“Not exactly, they asked me if I wanted to have him committed to inpatient for a few days so they could monitor his behaviour,” Cooper had taken to staring up at the endless amounts of stars scattered across the clear sky. Kurt continued to watch him, hugging his knees tightly against his chest as though it would do anything to stop the ache in his heart as he pictured Blaine locked away in a padded room. “God, the look on his face when he heard that. He was terrified, Iwas fucking terrified, but I couldn’t do that to him. So they did an evaluation on him in the emergency department that took all night instead and then we were free to go.”

“Your parents never noticed or said anything about you guys being gone for so long?” Kurt had honestly been afraid to know the answer as the question left his lips.

“Our mother did,” Cooper’s smile was faint as the sadness seeped into his words. “So we lied. Said I took him out to Columbus to meet up with some of my old friends and I was too tired to drive back so we stayed the night. She didn’t question it.”

“Do you regret it?” Kurt asked quietly.

“For a while, I did,” Cooper shifted and sat up straight again, tearing his eyes away from the sky and focused on Kurt again. “I was so afraid I made the wrong choice, was so scared to leave him alone in case he tried to do it again. But he started letting me in more and more, and I thought maybe I did do the right thing by trying to help instead of push him into the hands of some stranger that he would not have been ready for. Would I make the same decision now though? I honestly don’t know. Maybe he would have learned how to process everything that’s happened with professional help when I clearly was not qualified.”

“He worships you, you know,” Kurt smiled weakly. “I think he definitely gets jealous sometimes, but I know he thinks very highly of you.”

“I shouldn’t have left again,” Cooper stated. “If I stayed, maybe I would have noticed more. Maybe he would have told—”

“You know he would have resented that,” Kurt interrupted him sternly. “He would have felt like he was holding you back and blamed himself for you giving up your dream.”

“I know you’re right,” Cooper sighed heavily again, the familiar trend of the evening. “But still.”

“I know,” Kurt unhooked his arms from around his knees and sluggishly dropped his feet to the ground. “You know, I’m glad we had this conversation. I was really dreading it back inside when you asked to help bring him to bed because I thought you were going to start laying into me about everything. I can see why he likes to talk to you about the heavy stuff.”

“Like I said, I’ve seen how good you are with him. I’m not trying to come between that, but you see where I’m coming from with being worried, don’t you?”

“I do,” Kurt propped his elbows onto the table and leaned forward to rest his chin atop his clasped hands. “I can’t promise you everything is going to work out between us, but I can promise I will always be here for him. For both of you. If this has shown me anything, it’s that I can’t just walk away. Whatever happens he’s always going to be my best friend.”

Cooper surveyed him carefully before nodding once. “It’s getting late; we should probably go relieve your dad.”

Kurt perked up as Cooper stood. “Can I stay with him again tonight?”

“You don’t need to ask my permission, Kurt. Of course you can. You mind if I take your bed then?”

“Not at all,” Kurt replied. When they walked back inside Carole and Finn had relocated to the kitchen and were conversing quietly. They both looked up and smiled as Kurt was sliding the screen door closed behind themselves.

“Surprised you guys are still up,” Cooper commented.

“Gossip never sleeps,” Kurt quipped, earning an eye roll from Finn.

“We’re not talking about you, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Finn replied.

“Then who?” Kurt eyed him suspiciously.

“It’s— it’s private,” Finn stammered out.

“Ah,” Kurt smiled, his instincts leading him to believe he had been talking to his mom about Rachel. “Well, I’ll leave you both to it then. Goodnight!” He waved his hand in a sort of dramatic salute before heading towards the guest room. As he drew near the door, the sound of his father’s voice caused him to lighten his footsteps and creep up quietly, melding against the wall beside the open door frame so he could listen.

“I’m so sorry, kiddo,” Kurt could hear the way his father’s voice wavered, the strain and the pain beneath his words. He took a chance and tilted his head towards the frame for a quick peek inside. Burt’s back was to the door, he was sitting on the edge of the bed speaking to Blaine, who appeared to still be asleep in the exact position Kurt and Cooper had left him in. “You didn’t deserve any of this. I wish I had gotten to you sooner, maybe things would have turned out differently. Maybe you wouldn’t have—”

When the quiet sob wracked his father’s body like a steam roller, cutting off his voice and reducing him to rubble, Kurt could not stand idly by any longer. He took a step into the room and slid a hand onto Burt’s shoulder, “Dad, you can’t go down that road.”

“It was rightoutside the shop, what if I could have stopped it?” Burt placed his hand on top of Kurt’s, doing nothing to stop the steady stream of tears. He had not lost his composure like this since he had dropped Kurt off at the airport to leave for New York.

“Stop it,” Kurt said sternly. “Dad, please. It’s no one’s fault but the homophobic assholes that did this. You did everything you could, and it’s probably the only reason he’s even alive. So please, don’t beat yourself up like this.”

“Sorry, bud. You’re right, I know you’re right,” Burt stood up and before Kurt knew it he was wrapped up in the tightest embrace he could ever remember his father giving him since his mother had passed away. “Everything go okay with Cooper?”

“Yeah, dad. It was a good talk,” They lingered in the embrace silently for a few seconds before Kurt let his head fall onto Burt’s shoulder. “How was he?”

“Quiet, hasn’t moved,” Burt patted Kurt’s back lightly and they broke apart finally.

“Good, maybe he’ll be able to sleep through the night for once,” Kurt replied, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. As if on cue, Blaine shoved the pillow away and sent it careening over the side of the bed. Still asleep, he blindly began groping around the mattress. Kurt slipped his hand into one of Blaine’s, who surprised him when he forcibly tugged on his arm with more strength than he had anticipated. Kurt grunted softly as he was pulled towards Blaine’s chest and leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Let me get changed and I’ll lie down. No, honey, don’t you pout at me, I’ll be right back, I’m not going far.”

Blaine reluctantly released him and he stood up again, keeping his voice low as he walked with Burt towards the door. “Thanks for watching him.”

“Of course, bud,” Burt shuffled awkwardly in the doorway. Kurt raised an eyebrow questioningly. “I dunno the extent of what happened between you boys, and it’s none of my business if you don’t want it to be—”

“We’ll talk about it, dad, I promise. Just… not tonight. I’m afraid I’m a little talked out after today,” Kurt flashed a tired smile and Burt nodded.

“Alright, deal. Get some sleep,” Burt embraced him one more time and kissed the top of his head. “Love you.”

“Love you too, dad,” Kurt closed the door quietly behind him on his way out and returned to the dresser to borrow a set of pajamas from Blaine rather than disturb Cooper to retrieve them from his own room. He hastily changed his clothes and climbed into bed where Blaine immediately nestled against his side and buried his face in the crook of his neck. Kurt squirmed as his warm breath tickled his skin and sent goosebumps all the way down to his thighs. “Goodnight, you,” Kurt whispered, but Blaine was already fast asleep again.

____________________________________________________________________

The next few days passed by in a series of good ones and bad ones. By the time Thursday had finally rolled around, Kurt sat at the kitchen table feeling as though it had taken an entire month to arrive instead of the actual two days that had passed. Blaine had not been able to sleep through a single night without being plagued by nightmares, so Kurt and Cooper had taken to watching him in shifts. The previous morning had been an especially bad one. At 6 a.m. Blaine had jolted awake, panting heavily in the dark, and Kurt had been completely prepared for the routine to reorient and console him until—

“Who are you? W-Where am I?”

Kurt froze with his hands raised in midair as Blaine had recoiled, staring at him in terror. While Blaine had always had trouble discerning his surroundings, he had never forgotten who Kurt was before.

“Blaine, it’s me—” Kurt had barely been able to find his voice, the words coming out tiny and frightened as he remained still so he would not further startle him.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” Blaine began sobbing hysterically and proceeded to frantically shift away from Kurt towards the edge of the bed. Kurt’s heart leapt into his throat as he lunged towards him and wrapped an arm around his torso to keep him from falling off the side of the bed and hitting his head. Blaine, completely oblivious to the imminent danger Kurt had been saving him from, sobbed harder and began writhing under his grip. The words came rushing out of his mouth so quickly Kurt was not even sure he was breathing in between. “Don’t hurt me— Please, just let me go— I won’t tell anyone— Please, I swear I won’t— Please, please don’t hurt me—”

“Blaine, I’m not going to hurt you!” Kurt tried to speak over him without shouting, but Blaine continued to plead and cry loudly. He curled his fingers tightly over Kurt’s forearm, struggling to break free of his hold. “Blaine, please,” Kurt’s voice cracked as his own tears of fear and frustration started to overtake. “Sweetheart, it’s me. It’s Kurt—”

“I don’t know anyone named Kurt!” Blaine shouted and sobbed again, sputtering almost incoherently between giant gasps of air. “You— You have me confused with someone—”

Kurt could feel the knife being plunged into his chest and the slow twist of the blade, but he choked down whatever sorrow he was feeling and tried to remain calm. “Blaine, I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. I’m a friend of your brother Cooper, he’s here too.” That seemed to grab Blaine’s attention. His grip on Kurt’s arm loosened momentarily before he tightened it again, digging his fingernails into the skin and shook his head frantically.

“No. No, you’re trying to trick me—”

“I’m not. I promise, I’m not. He’s downstairs, I can call him to come up here right now. I just have to reach my phone and I can call him. But you have to promise me you’re not going to move when I let go, I don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself. Okay?” Kurt spoke calmly and slowly, hoping his tone was enough to portray his concern. Blaine still seemed hesitant to believe him. “I will let you go and I’ll go stand on the other side of the room, I’m not gonna hurt you. I’ll put the phone on speaker and you can hear that it’s Cooper I’m calling, okay?”

Blaine studied his expression, his eyes moving so frantically it was enough to make Kurt‘s head spin. After what felt like an eternity, Blaine’s fingers slackened around his arm and Kurt used all of his willpower not to flinch as the pressure was relieved from the tiny little cuts where Blaine’s nails had been buried. “Show me his number as you’re dialing it,” Blaine stated determinedly, as though he was convinced he would call Kurt on his bluff to actually be calling his brother. Kurt agreed and tentatively lifted his arm away from Blaine so he could roll over and grab his phone off of the nightstand.

“Here, I’ll put it on speaker and you can see then I’ll go stand over there if you want me to, okay?” Kurt tried to swallow the lump in his throat as Blaine put as much distance between them as possible and nodded once. Kurt held the phone between them so Blaine could plainly see that he was punching in Cooper’s number. Blaine continued to stare at the device, his eyes flitting back and forth between Kurt and the screen as he hugged his arms around himself tightly.

“Kurt, what’s wrong? Is he okay?” Cooper’s worried voice came flying over the speaker after just one ring.

“Can you come upstairs, Coop? He’d really like to see you,” Kurt watched Blaine’s expression change in an instant as he continued to stare at the phone in disbelief.

“Coming right up,” Cooper responded and hung up.

“See? You’re safe,” Kurt said soothingly despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to break down into tears himself.

“Do I really know you? Why can’t I remember you? Where are we? How did I get here?” Blaine tilted his head up as Kurt put his phone away. The confusion and absolute panic etched on his face and in his tone of voice was enough for another sharp twist of the imaginary blade in Kurt’s heart right now.

“I’ll let Cooper explain,” Kurt’s voice wavered as he concentrated on preventing a fresh onslaught of tears. Within seconds, Cooper came running into the room, panting quietly. Kurt stood up quickly and left without uttering another word.

Kurt pushed away the recollection and took a long sip of his coffee as he watched Blaine, sat opposite him at the table, struggle to keep his hand steady enough to lift a spoonful of cereal up to his mouth. Blaine’s memory had returned shortly after the incident, but it had taken Cooper and Kurt another hour to calm him down once he had learned he could not remember who Kurt was. Though it had not been his fault, Kurt could not help but feel a slight sting at having been completely wiped away from Blaine’s memory. He set his mug down just as Blaine had propped elbows up onto the table and brought his chin to rest on his hands, staring daggers at the spoon in the full bowl of cereal. Behind them Carole had been bustling about, preparing everything for dinner that evening while Finn stood in front of the toaster oven, drumming quietly on the countertop with his fingers.

“Would you like some help?” Kurt shifted his chair closer to him and Blaine continued to scowl at the bowl.

“I’m useless, I can’t even do this,” Blaine said bitterly before dropping his arms onto the table, his balled fists thudding quietly against the wood.

“Stop that. What did we talk about yesterday?” Kurt brought his hand to rest over one of his hands and Blaine sighed loudly in response.

“It’s not my fault and will get better if I keep practicing,” Blaine recited mechanically.

“And?” Kurt prompted.

“And,” Blaine allowed his fist to be opened up so Kurt could lace their fingers together. “Some days might be better or worse than others and that’s okay.”

“And it’s okay to ask for help,” Kurt finished for him and leaned over to press a kiss onto his cheek.

“Can you help me, please?” Blaine mumbled, clearly still uncomfortable and embarrassed with the idea.

“Yes, I can,” Kurt lifted their hands together and guided Blaine’s over to the spoon. He helped to curl his clumsy fingers over the handle and kept his hand over Blaine’s as they lifted it up together. Blaine leaned forward too quickly and the sudden motion had caused their hands to jerk, spilling cheerios and milk onto the table. He groaned loudly in frustration.

“Forget it, I’m not hungry,” Blaine tried to pull his hand away but Kurt would not let him.

“Try again, come on,” Kurt prompted gently. Blaine glared at the mess on the table but agreed. The second attempt had been more successful. Kurt continued to help him before releasing his hand for the last few spoonfuls, which Blaine had managed to do, albeit at a much slower pace, on his own. “See?” Kurt smiled encouragingly and Blaine responded with a timid smile.

“You’re amazing; how could I ever forget you?” Blaine blurted out and proceeded to turn bright red. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“I already told you,” Kurt scooted his chair right beside Blaine’s so their thighs were touching and gently pulled him closer to his body. “There is nothing to be sorry for.”

Blaine immediately melded into his side and let his head fall onto Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt wrapped an arm around him as he leaned forward to retrieve his mug and continued to drink his coffee. Finn took a seat at the table across from them and proceeded to squeeze a packet of white icing onto a toaster strudel. They sat quietly at the table, the rest of breakfast passing by peacefully with the quiet sound of Carole humming in the background as she prepared the turkey.

Sometime later in the afternoon, Kurt and Blaine had retreated to the living room to watch a repeat of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade as the kitchen had begun to get a little too overstimulating to Blaine’s liking. Finn had taken to laying on his side on the floor in front of them, his head propped up on his hand, and they had been taking turns commenting on the musical performances and random glimpses of people in the crowd. As the performance for the Cinderella musical was wrapping up, Cooper had walked into the room and dropped down into one of the armchairs, staring at his phone.

“What time are you leaving for the airport?” Kurt picked up on his anxious expression and Blaine tore his gaze away from the television to glance between them.

“Probably in an hour or so. Flight tracker says everything is running on time, so if I time it right I can get there as it lands,” Cooper placed his phone onto his lap. The screen was still lit up with the flight information on the airline phone application.

“You hear from them before the flight?” Kurt felt Blaine suddenly tense up against him and rubbed his hand along his upper arm.

“No—”

“Figures,” Blaine mumbled.

“But,” Cooper continued, “Mom left a voicemail sometime in the middle of the night saying she can’t wait to come see us.”

“She did?” Blaine replied doubtfully. “Can— Can I hear it?”

“Yeah, of course,” Cooper fiddled with his phone and crossed the room to hand it to him once he had navigated to his voicemail inbox. Blaine immediately tapped on her name and pressed the phone to his ear, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he waited for her voice. Kurt could not help but feel sad as he watched him. The hopeful expression mingled with disbelief was apparent all over his face as though he thought Cooper had been lying to him. He had become so outspoken in voicing his doubts lately, and while Kurt was glad to see him finally verbalizing his concerns more often it still left him feeling melancholy to discover just how much Blaine doubted everyone around him.

“She really sounds like she means it, Coop!” Blaine said excitedly and pulled the phone away from his ear just enough to tap on her name again and replay the message.

“Yeah,” Cooper smiled weakly, but Blaine had been too caught up in his reaction to notice it. Kurt, however, could also see the fear on Cooper’s face behind the smile. He knew how nervous Cooper was for the reunion. They had briefly spoken during the previous nights about the implications and possible effects it would have on Blaine should things go in the complete opposite direction of what Blaine was expecting. Especially if Mr. Anderson had actually decided to accompany their mother on the journey home, despite Cooper’s insistence that he stay away. He reached his hand out and gave Cooper a gentle pat on the arm, hoping to offer some tiny token of reassurance. Cooper smiled appreciatively and retreated back to the armchair just as the parade had returned from a commercial break.

The next hour passed by in the blink of an eye and before they knew it, Cooper was bidding them goodbye and out the door. Kurt had decided to venture into the kitchen to help with dinner, but Carole and Burt both shooed him away, telling him to relax and enjoy the holiday. He took his seat next to Blaine again, who was watching a repeat of March of the Wooden Soldiers with Finn, and began texting Isabelle. He had been communicating with her and Rachel almost religiously for the past two days, but he chose to withhold a little more information from Rachel than he did with Isabelle. Deep down, he was not ready to deal with Rachel’s remarks after his kiss with Blaine considering how often she was still trying to talk him into coming back to New York. So while he kept her updated on Blaine’s medical status and the doctor appointments and upcoming surgery, he was careful to keep his emotional responses regarding the situations to a minimum with her for the time being. It was not that he did not trust her, but her constant need to spearhead every conversation and convert it into another attempt at what she called a ‘Blainervention’ was beginning to whittle away his patience towards her. Isabelle, on the other hand, received every detail of Kurt’s concerns and emotional status. She had been the only one to offer him unbiased advice and he never once felt judged by her whenever he took to rambling or recounting the previous days’ events.

Isabelle 6:09 p.m. What time should I stop by?

Kurt 6:11 p.m. We’re still waiting to eat dinner, Cooper’s still not back.

Isabelle 6:12 p.m. Nervous?

Kurt 6:12 p.m. Extremely. I just hope it goes okay. Coop let Blaine listen to a voicemail from their mom before he left and he sounded sooooo excited about it. I just don’t want to see him get his hopes up and get hurt.

Isabelle 6:15 p.m. Any word on if she’s flying solo or not?

Kurt 6:17 p.m.

Not a clue. We’ll find out soon though.

Kurt 6:18 p.m. If you want to come by whenever you’re done eating and don’t mind hanging out here that would be fine. My parents won’t mind

Isabelle 6:20 p.m. We’re sitting down now so I’ll keep you updated! Ciao darling! <3

Kurt shoved his phone back into his pocket and turned his attention to Blaine and Finn. They were both laughing along to the movie, completely engrossed and unaware of their surroundings. Kurt smiled gratefully for the fact that today, so far, had turned out to be a good day and hoped the remainder of the evening was going to treat them just as kindly. Another half hour passed by before Kurt noticed headlights approaching the driveway. He checked his phone to be sure he had not missed any messages from Isabelle and, upon seeing he had not received any new messages except from Rachel wishing him a happy Thanksgiving and begging him for a phone call soon, he assumed it had to be Cooper pulling up to the house. He protectively slid an arm around Blaine and braced himself for their entrance. Through his heart pounding in his ears he was able to make out the sound of jingling keys and the gentle creak as the door slid open.

“Blaine?”

All three of them turned towards the door as Cooper’s voice cut through the noise on the television. He stepped inside and trailing behind him was a short woman with shoulder length, thick curly black hair and bright hazel eyes to match her son’s. Out of his peripheral vision, Kurt could see Blaine staring at the doorway like a deer in headlights. It was as though he had been expecting a trick to be played on him all along and never imagined his mother would actually be walking in through the doorway as she had promised she would. Kurt gave Blaine’s side a gentle nudge and raised his eyebrows towards the door.

“Kurt, is this real?” Blaine whispered to him as Cooper helped his mother out of her coat.

“Yes, say hello,” Kurt whispered back.

“H-Hi, mom,” Blaine said shyly. She beamed and approached him so quickly with outstretched arms his first reaction was to shrink back against Kurt. She frowned and dropped her arms slowly to her sides.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Go slow, mom,” Cooper closed the closet door after hanging up her coat.

“That’s how dad comes towards me when he’s going to—” Blaine clapped his hands over his mouth and the remainder of his accidental sentiment came out muffled. “Hit me. Goddamnit, stop talking.”

“Honey, it’s okay,” Kurt whispered and rubbed his arm soothingly. “She was just going to hug you.”

Mrs. Anderson continued to frown before deciding to drop down onto her knees in front of them. Blaine sluggishly lowered his hands, still leaning all of his weight against Kurt as he watched her. “Sorry, I have trouble— It’s hard for me to—”

“It’s okay, my little love.” Kurt could not help but notice how alike they looked. Her eyes squinted with the magnitude of her smile, something Blaine used to do so often but it had now become such a rare occurrence. “You take your time.” This seemed to be enough to flip the switch for Blaine. He lunged forward, throwing his arms around her neck, and nearly sent both of them toppling to the ground.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Blaine’s face became lost in the wild mess of her hair as she embraced him tightly.

“I promised I would,” she replied.

“Is it just you or,” he trailed off, leaning back just enough to make his face visible again.

“Your father’s at home, that’s why it took us a little longer, he wanted to be dropped off,” She had said the words so strenuously Kurt could tell she would never have even considered uttering them at all had Blaine not asked first.

“Oh,” Blaine replied quietly.

Burt and Carole walked into the room wearing matching kitchen aprons and both Kurt and Finn had to cover their mouths to stifle their laughter. Burt ignored them and cleared his throat politely. “Hello, nice to meet you.”

Blaine and his mother slowly broke apart and Kurt noticed him drag his knuckles over his eyes a few times as he came to lean back against him on the couch. He snaked his arm around his shoulders again, pulling him close, and turned back to watch the exchange between their parents. Mrs. Anderson stood up, straightening her blouse before approaching them and holding out her hand. “Hello, Burt and Carole, right?” They nodded and each of them took a turn shaking her hand. She smiled politely. “I’m Emilia. Cooper’s filled me in a little bit on how helpful you’ve been with taking care of Blaine.”

“Well, he is part of our family,” Burt said and Kurt could hear the touch of anger in his voice that he was clearly struggling to reign in. He shot him a warning look to remind him of their conversation the previous day to keep things civil for Blaine’s sake. Burt softened his tone. “He’s a good kid, we’re happy to help.”

“Well, now that we’re all here I hope everyone’s hungry,” Carole announced.

“We’ll meet you inside,” Kurt responded. They filed into the kitchen, leaving them alone and Blaine let out a long sigh as though he had been holding his breath the entire time. Kurt continued to massage his arm. “You doing okay?”

“I keep expecting to wake up any minute now,” Blaine replied. The undertones of self-conscious anxiety infected his words and contorted his face with worry and doubt. “I expected anything else besides her standing in front of me right now. There were always excuses whenever she promised anything. I can’t believe she’s here.”

Kurt did not know what to say. He patted his arm lightly and spoke quietly, his voice shaky as he tried to fight down the overwhelming sadness he felt towards Blaine right now, “Let’s not keep her waiting then.” He withdrew his arm and stood up, checking the brakes on the wheelchair before leaning over Blaine again. He hooked his arms around Kurt’s neck and closed his eyes as Kurt slowly pulled him into a standing position and paused. Blaine swayed lightly in his arms as he balanced on his good leg and opened his eyes after nearly a minute, “Okay, I’m ready.” Kurt guided him down into the chair and unlocked the brakes.

“Are you happy that she’s here?”

The fact that Blaine had to stop and contemplate the question made Kurt feel like he had already had his answer, but Blaine spoke quietly when they started moving towards the kitchen, “I think so. I don’t know. I’m pretty fucking scared, to be honest.”

Kurt stopped and looked down to see Blaine fidgeting with his fingers in his lap. Somehow, this had been the real answer he was expecting, but it still made him sad to hear Blaine admit it aloud. “Whatever happens, we’re all here for you, Blaine. I know it’s all very,” Kurt hated to use the next word. He hated that every aspect of Blaine’s life seemed to boil down to one four syllable word, including their own dilemma.

“Complicated,” Blaine finished for him.

“Complicated,” Kurt repeated quietly before relocating in front of him and kneeling down. Blaine continued to writhe and twist his hands together, staring down at his lap. It was becoming such a familiar scene these days. Kurt slid his hands along Blaine’s thighs and laced their fingers together, squeezing his hands gently. “We’re here for you every step of the way, okay?” Blaine nodded wordlessly and Kurt leaned forward to kiss his cheek, feeling Blaine leaning into the kiss. Kurt twisted his head and pressed his lips affectionately to Blaine’s, who pulled his hands free and slid his arms around Kurt’s neck as he returned the kiss. It could have lasted ten seconds or ten minutes. Neither of them were sure.

“Are you ready?” Kurt asked breathlessly once they had pulled apart. Blaine closed his eyes and nodded once. Kurt pressed one more delicate, quick kiss against his lips before they went into the kitchen to join everyone else.

Throughout dinner it was easy to see where Blaine and Cooper had picked up their natural ability to charm and effortlessly interact with anyone they met. There had not been one moment of silence as Emilia regaled them all with stories of Blaine and Cooper growing up. She seemed especially eager to hear about Kurt as well, asking all sorts of questions and grinning wildly as Burt had obliged in her requests. Kurt sat beside Blaine, their hands clasped together under the table, and kept shooting glances at him between their bursts of laughter. He looked happy, but still seemed guarded— afraid to let himself get too comfortable in the idea of what was turning out to be an extremely normal family dinner. Emilia sat opposite them at the table and very often brought her gaze to rest on Blaine, the joy in her eyes so apparent Kurt thought there was absolutely no chance it was not genuine. But he also thought back to the number of times Blaine’s house had been an empty wasteland whenever he visited, the way Blaine went out of his way to avoid speaking about both of his parents with such pain and sadness in his request to drop the subject and Kurt had to remind himself to also be wary of her intentions. He had heard her on speakerphone the few days prior saying she would explain everything to Blaine once she had returned. Whatever it was she had prepared to say to him, Kurt hoped it would be just as genuine as the way she was portraying herself to be now. In the middle of one of Emilia’s stories about how Blaine used to put on living room performances when he was six and drag Cooper along as one of his props the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Kurt scooted his chair back. “It’s probably Isabelle.”

With some effort he pulled his hand free from Blaine’s, who seemed to be unconsciously gripping it as though it was a lifeline tethering him down to earth. Kurt kissed his cheek and excused himself to answer the door while Emilia continued her story. When he swung the door open though, it was not Isabelle as he had expected, but Detective Carson. His hair was unruly as ever, loose strands peeking out from beneath his hat, and his expression was serious, yet sincere beneath rosy, windswept cheeks.

“Hello, Kurt. Sorry to interrupt your holiday like this, but this couldn’t wait. Could I come in for a minute?”

Kurt’s brain took a moment to process the request before he stumbled over his words, “Yeah, of course.” He took a step back to allow Detective Carson enough space to step through the doorway and then quietly closed the door behind him. “Does this mean you have news?”

“Not exactly, I’m afraid. I was hoping to speak with Blaine. There was another attack. We were able to get a composite sketch of one of the attackers based off of the victim’s description, I was hoping to see if it’s someone Blaine recognizes so we can figure out if they’re connected in any way.”

“Oh,” Kurt cast an uneasy glance towards the kitchen. “I see. Let me go get him. Please, have a seat.”

As Kurt approached the kitchen the physical atmosphere of the room transformed. The last thing he wanted to do was pull Blaine away from the warmth and joy he had finally been able to find himself in, but he knew Detective Carson was right in his urgency for haste. If these had indeed been the same people who attacked Blaine, it was only a matter of time before someone else came next. He approached Blaine and leaned over to whisper in his ear while the conversation around them continued.

“Detective Carson is here; he was hoping to talk to you.”

To say Blaine was caught completely off guard would have been an understatement. Without even touching him Kurt could tell every muscle in his body had seized up at the thought of having to recount whatever fragmented pieces of the assault he could remember. “I can keep everyone else in here and get Cooper to go with––”

“No, I want you both there,” Blaine rushed out in a frantic whisper.

“Okay,” Kurt placed his hand on his shoulder and straightened up. “Excuse me?” Cooper had stopped talking and everyone looked towards Kurt. “Coop, I need you to come in the other room with us for a minute. Could everyone else please stay here? We’ll just be a few minutes.”

“Everything alright, bud?” Burt asked, the concern heavy on his face. Emilia looked perplexed as she shifted her attention between Blaine and Kurt. Kurt was not sure how much information Blaine wanted to give away and was trying to come up with some sort of excuse for their need for privacy when Blaine suddenly spoke up.

“Detective wants to talk to me again,” he mumbled.

“Sweetie, do you want me to come with you?” Emilia asked.

“No!” Blaine responded a little too loudly, causing her to look taken aback. “No,” he lowered his voice and blindly searched for the levers to unlock the brakes of the wheelchair. Kurt reached down to guide his hands over them, letting Blaine unlock them himself once his hands were in the proper spot. “Please just… just stay here?” Emilia nodded wordlessly, looking extremely unsettled.

“Watch your hands,” Kurt said quietly to Blaine and proceeded to wheel him back away from the table once he had folded his hands onto his lap. Cooper patted his mother’s arm gently and followed them out into the living room where Detective Carson had remained standing, shuffling in place as he passed his hat between his hands.

“Hello again, Blaine. Sorry to bother you all on Thanksgiving like this,” Detective Carson offered his usual sympathetic smile. Kurt positioned the wheelchair to face the couch and took a seat in front of Blaine. Cooper took a seat beside him. Detective Carson remained standing near the front door.

“Kurt said you wanted to talk to me?” Blaine asked apprehensively.

“Yes, there was another boy who was attacked and we’re trying to figure out if it’s connected at all with your case.”

Blaine sat stiffly, his hands clasped tightly together. “How can I help?”

“We have a rough composite sketch based on the victim’s description,” Blaine flinched visibly at the word ‘victim’ and Kurt placed a hand on his knee. “Can you tell me if you recognize the person in this sketch?” Detective Carson pulled out a folded piece of paper from the inside of his jacket and held it out to Blaine, who did not reach for it. Kurt took the paper from him and smoothed it out against his knee before showing it to Blaine. The boy in the sketch had shoulder length, dark stringy hair. His cheeks were sunken in, giving him the skeletal appearance of a corpse. His eyes were dark and unforgiving, he almost looked bored. Scattered across his face was an overabundance of freckles of different shapes and sizes and his thin lips were warped into the ugliest frown Kurt had ever seen. Blaine’s reaction was instantaneous. He inhaled sharply and clamped his eyes shut, turning his head as far away as possible from the sketch.

“Blaine,” Kurt said softly as the muscles and veins in Blaine’s neck became more pronounced. It made Kurt’s neck ache just to watch him overextend himself in such an extreme angle. “Honey, do you recognize him?”

“I do.”

When the sullen, irate voice answered him, Kurt’s head swung with such force there was an audible crack that permeated the silence that soon fell after the quiet confession had been uttered. It was not Blaine that had spoken, but Cooper.

11 notes · View notes

bymoonchild · 6 years ago

Text

Set On You (M)

Pairing | Jungkook x Reader

Genre | Fluff, smut / volleyball!AU, college!AU, setter Jungkook x manager reader

Warnings | Light smut, detailed thigh-riding, thirsty nsfw thoughts, alcohol consumption, swearing and a whole lot of hopeless pining and soft moments because it’s soft uwu hours 24/7

Word count | 18.1k

Summary | Sports has never been your thing, so when you find yourself in a sports hall that reeks of perspiration and cologne and in front of a group of volleyball players whom you’re supposed to be managing (heck, you can’t even manage your own life), you know that you’re in Deep Shit™.

Especially when Jeon Jungkook, the golden setter of the team aka the boy who holds stars in his eyes, starts to occupy your reveries, slowly becoming both the quiet and pandemonium of your heart.

The repeated squeaks of sneakers and harrowing smacks from the contact of palm against ball reverberate across the court, sounding awfully similar to the erratic thumping of your heartbeats, but they do nothing to drown out the thudding in your eardrums. Cowering meekly behind the door of your school’s daunting indoor sports hall, the perspiration on your palms is getting way out of hand and your legs almost threaten to take you back to your dorm, but the palpable, icy-cold air that greets you halts you in your tracks.

Clad in their renowned black and red jerseys, you watch the volleyball players manoeuvre effortlessly all over the court, giving their all to keep the ball up in the air. They almost look identical – radiating with a peculiar charisma and indomitable grit – if not for the designated numbers on their backs.

More volts of panic pulse through your veins. You’re intimidated out of your wits, but even for a person who’s allegedly allergic to sports, you can’t deny the ferocity of their match – it’s pretty enthralling. Thinking about it, this is actually your first time catching your school’s volleyball team in action and you have to admit that their teamwork is quite something.

Sports has never been your thing, let alone volleyball. In fact, you would very much rather be cooped under your quilt in the comfort of your air-conditioned room at this very moment. How you’ve landed yourself in a humid and stinky indoor sports hall that reeks of perspiration and cloying cologne, facing a group of really tall and sweaty college boys with that signature awkward grin of yours is beyond you, and something you definitely didn’t foresee yourself doing in your second year in Seoul National University.

You should have trusted your gut feeling when you thought that agreeing to be the student manager for the school’s volleyball team to earn extracurricular points for your scholarship would be a terrible idea. Gosh, this is all on Hoseok, your English Lit seatmate and also (surprisingly) the captain of the volleyball team. Curse him and his manipulative ways of convincing people.

According to your very wise friend, 1) you desperately need to join a club ASAP because the only club you belong to is the Sunshine Club – no, it’s not a real club, it’s just a pejorative term for students who alternate between home and school, and that certainly earns you zero extracurricular points, 2) you need to get out of your comfort zone more often because this is college and in college, you fuck things up for the fun of it, and 3) a student manager could really do good for the volleyball team because the new season is starting really soon and they’re gearing up for first place this season after their demeaning loss to Hanyang University last year, oh and also, the boys have been praying everyday to have someone (new and well, fun) other than their coach on the team because the old man sure can be a little grump.

You don’t question the last point because it’s a known fact that the volleyball team is your school’s pride and joy. When they were beaten at their own game last year, the entire school went in mourning for a whole damn week. It’s pretty hilarious, the more you think about it, that the competitive sport is basically just a more intense game of “don’t let the balloon touch the floor”. But almost everyone finds the sport cool because somehow or other, the players also happen to be naturally tall and also attractive – though the latter is highly subjective and does not include your terrible friend.

Albeit not knowing the players personally and being able to match their names to their faces, you’ve seen the gang in school, perpetually flaunting their black and red jerseys that can be spotted from miles away and drawing attention to their rambunctious selves.

The number of people who admire (and worship) them don’t escape your notice too, including your smitten professors who all have a mutual soft spot for Hoseok whenever he falls behind or sleeps in class. It seems like everyone is oddly bewitched by their charms – you’ve heard stories about the appalling number of girls who’ve confessed to them and hooked up with them at parties, only because Hoseok can’t stop gloating about the increasing count. But whether they’re just plain ole rumors or facts, you’d rather not be involved in their social politics because Hoseok is your own Gossip Girl and that’s more than enough, really.

“Guys, gather up!”

Coach Kim blows his whistle and literally the entire team comes scrambling to swamp the two of you. A wave of panic washes over you, draining colour from your face as they start to look you up and down inquisitively. You’ve never felt that inferior about being vertically-challenged before, but being surrounded by a group of volleyball players who could appear to be almost a good 2 meters tall? Definitely not up your alley.

“We finally, yes, finally,” you don’t miss the enthusiasm and relief in Coach Kim’s voice, “have a student manager on the team!”

At that, everyone explodes in loud cheers, their gruff voices filling up the court and you shudder at the resonance of their voices.

“Hi,” you give a little wave to the tall towers before you, trying to make things less menacing for you. “I’m Y/N, a second-year Psychology major. Nice to meet you! I’ll be the student manager from today onwards. Hoseok dragged me here—”

“Yay, welcome Y/N!” Hoseok interrupts your intention of throwing shade at him with an overzealous whoop of excitement and his teammates divert their attention to their loud captain. “You guys be nice to her or you’ll be catching these hands.”

They all roll their eyes, before grunting out an okay. After taking turns to introduce themselves – honestly, your brain could only be loaded with so many names, you’d definitely need more time to digest and remember their faces, the players soon disperse and resume their usual rotational drills.

Turning to you with an eerily wide grin, Hoseok then leads you to the perimeter of the court and hands you a clipboard. “Okay for today, just familiarise yourself with the positions and the guys. Easy peasy, I know we’re all good-looking—”

You interrupt his narcissistic statement by faking a gag.

“Rude! As I was saying before I was rudely cut off, we’re all good-looking, but it’s easy to distinguish us. Unless you mix Seokjin-hyung and Jungkook up, which is fine because they look quite similar. Both ugly.”

“You just said—”

“The entire team is present except for Jungkookie. He’ll come later because he’s taking a test now. When you see a tall guy who looks like an overgrown, emo baby bunny, just mark Jungkook present.”

You hum mindlessly and glance over to the guys who’ve already taken their respective positions.

“Now, now, don’t gush over the guys. They’re fucking gross. They sweat a lot and stink like rotten meat after practice.”

“As if you don’t too! I’ve sat beside you in class after your practice before and I had to hold my breath the entire class.”

“Excuse you!” He clicks his tongue in annoyance, “I’m already pretty hygienic compared to the others… Anyways, it’s too late to back out.”

“Oh shit.”

“I’m kidding! We’re really nice, a little intimidating maybe because of our heights but that’s only because you’re short as fuck, but we don’t bite… unless you want us to. Come! Let’s go through the positions together.”

Being the volleyball neophyte you are, Hoseok walks you through the various volleyball positions. You learn that there are four main positions and only six players are allowed on the court, though the entire team is 14 members strong. There are three wing spikers in total – Hoseok, Taehyung, and Yoongi – and they carry the defensive workload. Namjoon and Seokjin are the middle blockers, while Jimin is the libero who wears a different coloured jersey since he can conveniently switch in and out of the game (usually with Seokjin) and lastly, the setter, who is none other than Jungkook. Hoseok calls him the backbone of the team.

“Okay, this isn’t that hard. I can do this,” you think to yourself after Hoseok leaves to join his teammates, a dry attempt to spur yourself on.

Maybe it’s because you haven’t done much besides committing their names and faces to memory and learning about the different positions, but the first thirty minutes of practice have been going surprisingly well, until—

“Jungkookie!” Hoseok shrieks while looking past your shoulder towards the door.

“The overgrown, emo baby bunny?” You quote your friend, before turning your head to look at the latecomer.

And damn, you wish you could take back your words. Standing before you is a boy who’s unfamiliar to your sight, but a dazzling one in appearance. His hair is a black mop of soft tousled locks, his onyx eyes are doe-like and his lips take on a soft rosy pink tint.

Upon your words, Jungkook doubles over with a boyish chuckle. “Hyung! What did you call me?”

Ignoring the latter and swatting him away, Hoseok continues with a beam, “Yep, this is Jungkook, our golden setter. Great, now you’ve met everyone on the team!”

He then turns back to Jungkook, while offering you a pat on the back, “Jungkookie, meet Y/N, our new student manager. Treat her nicely or I’ll break your fingers.”

Jungkook takes offense at the threat (his dearest fingers…) and glowers at his captain. He then turns to you and you notice that his facial expressions soften for a moment, before his face starts to scrunch up. With a contrived smile, he extends out his hand, “Hello, nice to meet you.”

You draw in a furtive breath, painfully aware of how he practically looms over you.

“H-Hi, I’m Y/N.”

You instantly curse yourself, red threatening to dot your cheeks because Hoseok literally just said your name like 10 seconds ago.

Even from where you’re standing, it doesn’t take much for you to notice how his eyes take on a sharp, mesmerising glow. Like stars glistening in the velvet night sky, vying to out-glow one another.

And so, you panic.

“Nice to meet the overgrown, emo baby bunny,” are the words that follow your already embarrassing introduction and you grimace upon hearing yourself, wishing to swallow your stupid words back. Your mouth just lives to sabotage you whenever you’re nervous.

The awkwardness starts to saturate the air, uncomfortable in the way it clings onto the two of you, minus Hoseok who’s drinking everything in with confusion. Jungkook’s eyes rest on your embarrassed features, blinking owlishly and this is when you know that you need to leave, stat. Embarrassed, you bite your lower lip and mutter, “I have to go… help Coach. Bye!”

Spinning on your heels skittishly, you jog past hoarse hollers of nice serve and chance ball to join Coach Kim at the sidelines and you swear you’ve never speed-walked this fast in your entire life before. It literally takes every ounce of you not to freak out even when you can still feel holes being bored on your back. Not even an hour into practice and you’ve embarrassed yourself already? So much for beating your personal record.

“Well, that was painfully awkward,” the captain taunts with a smile full of mirth.

“Urgh h-hyung, stop it!”

Besides the brainwork of remembering the players’ names and positions, your agenda of tasks also includes physical labour, much to your dismay, of refilling water bottles, picking up stray balls from all corners of the court and being in charge of the dreaded grimy storeroom aka your new hiding place away from the sausage fest outside.

You don’t really get to watch today’s full six-on-six match, too busy scrambling all over the court to gather the stray balls and when you’re finally done, the boys have taken a five and are sprawled all over the floor, grumbling loudly in fatigue.

Joining Coach Kim on the bench, your eyes sweep quickly across the court and you see Jungkook lying on the ground with his eyes closed, chest heaving up and down rhythmically in tandem with his breathing, like an empty boat blobbing on gentle early-morning waves. What catches your attention is how apparent his jersey sticks to his abdomen, slightly exposing his torso and warmth violently flares in the full of your cheeks, tipping your ears pink. You can’t unsee it, but you desperately want to. Beside him, Hoseok has his shirt rolled up to his chest, baring his well-sculpted front, but you don’t feel a thing.

As if on cue, a raven black mop of dishevelled locks rises up from the ground, swiftly meeting your eyes in the process. He freezes like a rabbit caught in a snare, eyes wide and shoulders rigid. But it’s not like you’re any better. You stare back at Jungkook blankly, trying your best not to panic because he just caught you staring at him like a creep and it’s only your first day.

Uh oh.

A disconcerting feeling starts to stir in the pit of your stomach, so you quickly pry your eyes away because you’re that good at pretending that you didn’t see shit.

From your periphery, you realise that he’s still looking straight at you and you shudder at the weight of his piercing gaze, feeling hot all of a sudden.

Eventually, you decide to muster up some courage and turn back to him. You see that his eyes are still dead set on you and this throws you off kilter. Forming a thin line on his lips, he suddenly throws himself back onto the ground with a thud, causing his teammates to rise up instantly and wonder what the heck is wrong with their setter.

The way Jungkook stares at you remains etched in your mind even after practice. If this is what you’re going to face three times a week from today onwards, you’re going to need all the luck you can have and probably also some calming tea for your unsettling nerves.

You arrive at the sports hall punctually the next practice, a tad excited, albeit the nerves in your stomach. Instead of reporting straight to Coach Kim, you decide to greet the few players who are already warming up, but almost retract your footsteps when you see Jungkook part of the warm-up circle.

He’s already staring at you with that same gaze of his, but the boys don’t sense your hesitance and beckon you to join them. It’s a little too late to back away, so you saunter over with a bubbly façade, ignoring the fact that Jungkook is still relentlessly boring holes onto your face.

“Hey!” Taehyung chirps and scoots over to make space for you. “Sit here, Y/N!”

“Hi Y/N!”

“Did you come from class?” Hoseok pipes, spinning a volleyball with his finger.

“Yeah, it ended 10 minutes ago.”

“H-Hi.”

You hear a soft murmur beside you and turn your head, only to meet Jungkook and his brown doe eyes. Seated only inches away from you, his breath fans out across your cheek and warmth scatters over your skin in the rise of gooseflesh at the proximity. He doesn’t break eye contact with you for few seconds, as if you two are the only ones in the court, before he blinks away and continues stretching like he didn’t just stutter.

“Hey, Jungkook,” you mutter in a slight daze of confusion, wincing when your words come off as a gasp, so you quickly turn back to somewhere safe – to the sight of Hoseok doing push-ups with the derpiest face ever. If Jungkook has heard your silly gasp, he’s sure being really nice for not laughing about it or bringing it up.

Once Coach Kim finally enters the court, you run up to him in relief because you’re dying to break away from Jungkook’s gaze, and Hoseok invites you to join their discussion about the strategies for their practice match. Foreign terms like “quicks”, “back-row attacks” and “jump float serves” are being strewn around vivaciously, but you dutifully scribble whatever you could decipher on your clipboard, though the technicalities are starting to get pretty overwhelming.

Mid-way into the discussion, a particular chuckle floats over to your direction and you can’t help but draw your gaze to the middle of the court. You see Jungkook goofing around with his teammates, spinning a volleyball deftly with his hands, and the edges of your lips curl up at the sight of him having fun. It’s strange how he’s so uptight whenever he’s around with you, all rigid limbs and awkward glances.

Practice starts promptly after the discussion and things start to change half an hour into practice, contrary to their chill warm-up session. Taking their respective positions, nobody’s cracking jokes or slacking off, all committed to ensuring that the ball stays afloat and honing their skills.

The shift in Jungkook’s demeanour is especially evident to you. From the shy and awkward boy he is around you, he’s now focused and charismatic. His gaze doesn’t break away from the ball, always on the lookout and poised to set.

The boys practice for another two hours, constantly refining their moves and providing feedback to one another. Besides listening to Coach Kim’s never-ending commentary and laments about the boys, you also move around the perimeter to observe each player and take notes on your clipboard.

You somehow find yourself standing near the net, where Jungkook is positioned in his fully immersed glory. Hoseok calling him the backbone of the team comes to mind. After researching more about the different positions, you’re aware that the setter controls the flow of the game and orchestrates the attacks, but what intrigues you more is knowing that Jungkook is one of the best setters in the zone. You wonder if he’s really that amazing as what they make him to be, so you decide to take a break from your clipboard and pay full attention to the boy in front of you.

The ball arches over the net from the opposing team and Jimin springs into action, diving on the ground without hesitation. He grunts loudly when he manages to save it, pumping it back up in the air. A rolling receive, you recognise. From behind, one of his teammates screams an exasperated “nice save”.

The ball glides over to where Jungkook’s at and he extends his arms, as if inviting it to rest in his cupped hands. You can’t help but be mesmerised by his figure that’s positioned at a breath’s gap from the net, his back arching into a parabolic shape and thigh muscles rippling as he uses just one hand to slightly push the ball over the net with great aplomb. His effortless move sends the ball diving straight onto the ground, untouched by his stunned teammates from the other side.

“A dump!” Taehyung hollers excitedly, “Holy fuck!”

“What the fuck, Kook!” Namjoon from the opposing team shouts in frustration, but seems to be equally impressed by Jungkook’s sly move. “You’re a devil.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle at their dumfounded reactions and the edges of your lips quirk up involuntarily. His sun-kissed skin shimmers with a thin sheen of sweat on his neck, while his dark eyes sparkle with intensity. He looks almost idyllic being on the court, phenomenal even – it’s like he belongs there, like he was born to play and shine on the court.

There’s something about his contented smile that’s enamouring – there’s something warm, soft and child-like beneath it. Something very much like a young boy playing hide-and-seek, hidden deep within him and hoping to be discovered and resurrected.

His smile is a nice sight.

The match resumes and you continue to observe how the setter receives the ball and tosses it to his teammates with impeccable control and precision. The way his fingers cup the volleyball doesn’t go past your notice and you gulp when your eyes land on his veiny arms.

A warm tingling feeling courses to your own fingertips. You wonder how holding his hand would feel like and similar thoughts continue to invade your mind throughout the entire practice.

The following practices fly by in a blur.

You’re on the bench with Coach Kim, your clipboard in hand. You’ve soon found joy in analysing the skills of each player and coming up with strategies, and this is evident from your clipboard that’s now filled up with your messy handwriting. The exciting game of volleyball is really starting to grow on you, though what’s more captivating is watching the setter shine on the court.

Jungkook is a silent and calculating setter who pinpoints his tosses with an eerie tactical accuracy. He’s especially meticulous in estimating the average height of each spiker’s jumps and he knows how to change the speed and altitude of his tosses to complement each teammate, leaving no room for mistakes.

While you’re realising all these by yourself, the guys are still fighting it out on the court, engrossed in the last set of the practice match and Jungkook’s team is in the lead. It’s against his own teammates, but the setter’s competitive burn doesn’t seem to know when to stop, boundless when it comes to the things he’s passionate about. This isn’t exclusive to just him though – his teammates seem to have picked up his vigour too, all firing with extra vitality. It isn’t surprising as all of their efforts are dedicated to winning the championships this season.

Seeing how the game is never coming to an end because they’ve been at match point for the last five minutes and neither team is letting their guard down, you excuse yourself from the game to refill their water bottles. Seokjin decides to join you when he watches you leave. Jimin has stepped in for the last few minutes of the set and you thank him for his help because carrying 14 water bottles is not an easy task.

From the corner of his eye, Jungkook sees you returning to the court with their water bottles hugged to your chest and he wishes he could run over to help you. But when Seokjin appears behind you, sharing a laugh with you, an unfamiliar feeling pools in his stomach – something about the sight of you laughing with his teammate puts him off. He doesn’t like it, but he softens at how brightly and effortlessly your face lights up. Seokjin’s probably telling you one of his overused dad jokes.

Sharp curses and flustered yells of Jungkook’s name fly through the air, but there’s barely enough time for him to process what is going on. He registers the blur of yellow and blue spinning in a few centimeters away from his face and before he knows it, he’s crashing on the cold hard ground from the impact.

A yelp escapes from the back of his throat. He feels like his nose just did a full-on pancake save on the ground. The middle of his face is throbbing in pain and his vision starts to blur from the tears at the edges of his eyes.

“Jungkook, what the heck were you doing!” Coach Kim bellows and jogs over to check up on him, his creased forehead is evidence that he’s in disbelief that the golden setter is actually capable of being distracted during a match.

The blazing blur of blue and yellow is soon replaced with shadowy looming figures and gasps of horror.

“Gosh, your nose is as red as Angry Bird,” Taehyung pipes in and chortles with his phone in hand. “What the fuck, I need to capture this. This is blackmail material.”

“Dude! What was that about?” Hoseok kneels down, a tad amused by the situation. “You’re normally not like this, who were you looking at?”

“Guys, guys! Give him some space…”

A lulling voice emerges amidst the insults mercilessly thrown at his injured self and Jungkook relaxes a little.

Easing your way to the front, you squat beside him, wincing at the sight of the bloody gash. A single line of blood trickles down his jaw and then to his neck, causing a red seam on his jersey.

“Okay, kids! Thank god that we have a manager now. Y/N will take care of Jungkook and his bloody face, so get back to practice!”

You offer him a little smile as he stares at you wide-eyed silently.

“Jungkook? You’re okay. You’re fine, it doesn’t look that bad,” you coo reassuringly, hoping to lessen the pain that’s evident from his contorted expression.

Pressing the back of his hand to his nose to wipe away the blood, Jungkook flushes pink, as if his face isn’t red enough already. Besides the stinging pain on his face, he feels his heart beating a merciless staccato rhythm. He already has trouble breathing from the blood in his nostrils, but all air rushes out of him when you inch even closer to assess the damage and he shuts his eyes in panic.

“I’ll take you to the nurse after you’re all cleaned up.”

Jungkook grunts in response. With careful fingers, you cradle the back of his head and push away his sweaty bangs with your other hand, before gently wiping the area around his nose. Slowly reopening his eyes, he gazes at you quietly and you avoid eye contact with him at all costs, but you shiver involuntarily when the warmth of his breath graces your arm.

At this close of a distance, you can count the long eyelashes that frame Jungkook’s large orbs, the crooked bunny teeth that appear when he winces, the little mole under his lips and the faint scar on his right cheek that mars his otherwise unblemished and fair skin. His hair also feels soft as it tickles the back of your hand and you’re so tempted to thread your fingers through them. You have to physically shake your head to rid yourself of these thoughts.

“Okay… Slowly…” You slip out of Jungkook’s hold as he settles on the edge of an empty bed in the school clinic and the nurse approaches you two without a word, as though injuries like these are an everyday occurrence.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Not as bad as before,” he mumbles bashfully, peeking at you through his lashes and you instantly want to melt into a puddle on the floor, especially since there’s less blood, people and space. It’s just the two of you now.

Noticing that you’re standing awkwardly by the door, he pats the space beside him and you move over, actually tired from the whole ordeal.

You two make some small talk while waiting for the nurse to return. You learn that Jungkook is in his second year too, a Computer Science major, and you tell him that you’ve never seen him in school before though the Social Sciences faculty is right beside his.

“I think I’m kind of low-key?” He states and you raise an eyebrow. He is definitely not low-key. There are probably girls gushing over him at this very instance.

“I’m always in class or at practice. Okay, I spend 30 percent of my life in class, 60 percent at practice and the last 10 percent in my room,” he explains animatedly, flinging his hands to gesture how he divides his time.

You try not to sputter into a fit of laughter, but laughter pokes its way across glassy eyes and pink cheeks when Jungkook scrunches his nose at his words.

“But I think I’ve seen you in school before? Your faculty always has fundraiser activities going on. And you performed for a talent show before, didn’t you? My friend dragged me to your faculty’s talent show. You sang an Adele song right?”

“Oh,” you squeak, a little too high to your liking, red finding its way up your cheeks. You’re nonplussed and a little touched that he remembers you from the other talented and pretty female contestants because they’re so many girls around him and you’re just… well, you’re just you.

“Oh my god, I probably sounded terrible,” you grimace, hand flying up to cover your face in embarrassment.

“No, you didn’t! I remembered your performance because it was that good.”

“R-Really?

He hums in response.

“Okay… thank you, I guess?” You look down at your fingers awkwardly. “That’s really nice of you.”

A chuckle escapes his lips. “No – thank you. Coach would have just left me bleeding on the ground if it wasn’t for you.”

A small smile tugs at your lips and the edges of his lips start to curl up to a semblance of a smile as well. Before you know it, he has his hand up, gingerly ruffling your hair and your entire body instantly stiffens, as if zapped by electricity. Muted colours of soft pastels swirl in your head. You think that his touch on your head might actually burn more than his squashed nose.

“No problem, Jungkook.”

It’s been a month since you joined the volleyball team as their student manager and now your existence alternated between school, your dorm and the sports hall, but you’re actually enjoying every bit of it.

It’s a Tuesday, which means there’s no volleyball practice, but you’re heading to the sports hall to clean up the storeroom and do some administrative stuff for their upcoming friendlies.

“Y/N!”

Looking up at the direction of the familiar voice, your eyes land on Jungkook who’s smiling at you and you stop in your tracks. You drink in the sight of him in a white T-shirt, ripped light blue jeans and a denim jacket. It’s nothing over the top, but he looks stunning regardless and you have to curb the lingering wisps of excitement brewing in your stomach.

This is probably the first time seeing Jungkook in school. Ever since his bloody nose incident, the two of you have started to become less uptight with each other and are now friends, if you choose to omit the awkward stares, flustered cheeks and sweaty palms. Just friends, nothing more or less.

You wave to him, trying your best to hide your surprised expression. He has never approached you directly during practice, let alone in the hallway.

“Where are you headed to?” He breaks the distance between you and him in less than five strides.

“I’m just going to clean up the storeroom. You?”

“Clas—oh actually, I was about to practice my tosses too.”

“Don’t you have class?”

“Um, no I don’t?”

“But you were just walking in the other direction, away from the sports hall.” You raise an eyebrow and tilt your head.

This stops him cold. He can’t place your expression exactly – it’s a cross between amusement and confusion and this makes him even more torn between wanting to continue lying so he can go to the sports hall with you and dropping the act and running away to save himself from further embarrassment. He chooses neither.

“Okay fine, you caught me. Can we… let’s just go to the sports hall together?”

How and why is a mystery, but you find yourself nodding your head in acquiescence.

Walking beside Jungkook is anxiety-inducing, as if you aren’t nervous enough around the said boy on a regular basis. As you pass through the hallway of blur figures, you pick up a whiff of Jungkook’s scent – it’s a comforting, clean fresh laundry scent that rests pleasantly on your nose. The soft material of his denim jacket is ticklish as it brushes against your arm, sending your heart ricocheting even more furiously in your ribcage.

There’s always been something about Jungkook that makes you feel… alive, you realise.

It’s the little awakening tingles that shoot up your spine every time his skin comes into contact with yours, be it casually and intentionally and the momentary halting of your heartbeat and the fluster that attacks you without a warning whenever he gazes at you. It’s the little crinkle at the edges of his eyes when he’s smiling and his mellifluous laughs – both soft and loud ones – when he’s cackling up with the guys that never fail to render you breathless.

You hate how you always magically transform into an incoherent fool every time you come in contact with him. But no matter how times he has caused your heart to stop for the briefest of moments, you don’t regret the lovely loss because you’ll gladly succumb to any pain, fuzzy feeling or ramification that Jungkook brings – just because, as strange as it sounds, you like it.

You don’t realise that you’ve held your breath the entire walk to the sports hall until you reach the storeroom and that was only possible after persuading the insistent Jungkook that you don’t need his help with clearing the cabinets.

When you’re done after spending an hour in the stuffy storeroom, you find Jungkook spiking the balls against the wall in his sports attire. You swallow hard when your eyes trail down to his accentuated butt that looks too good for his own good and his thighs that flex dangerously when he moves. Your cheeks sear with embarrassment that’s hot enough to burn away your lewd thoughts.

For someone who’s painfully shy and cannot toss a ball for pity’s sake, you cannot fathom where you get the sudden surge of courage, but your mouth decides to take matters into its own hands and blurt out something along the lines of “Hey, want me to toss the ball to you?”.

You hate how your voice rises in the end, turning into an awkward squeak, but he seems to find it adorable if his dazed look is anything to go by.

Eagerly taking you up on your offer, the two of you soon fall into a comfortable pattern – you’d toss the ball to Jungkook for him to practice his tosses and spikes and this continues till the volleyball crate is emptied out. Sometimes you don’t toss high enough and he’ll laugh at your fail attempts, but he’s always patient with you and even teaches you the proper way of tossing the way with the correct push. Heck, you didn’t even know that there was a correct way of tossing a freaking ball.

After what seems like 10 hours, you sit down to catch your breath, slightly embarrassed by your lack of stamina because Jungkook looks like he can go on for another 10, looking as impeccable as ever. When he runs a hand through his hair with that lopsided smile of his, it leaves you even more short of breath. It’s as though he’s doing this on purpose.

His fitted shirt is drenched with sweat, cruelly sticking to his abs and you gulp when your eyes trail down to his thighs. The fabric of his shorts hugs his lower half like a second skin, revealing the harsh lines and sculpted muscles of his thighs. And you really need to curb your obsession for his thighs, because it’s getting way out of hand and you’ll skin yourself alive if he ever finds out about it.

“Hey, you tired?” Jungkook trudges over to sit beside the stoned you, playing with the ball in his hands.

“Oh no no, I’m okay,” you lie blatantly and begin to stand up, but he stops you.

“It’s okay, I’m pretty beat too. Want to grab some food? I’m actually really hungry.”

He looks at you with a painfully familiar glint swimming in his corneas and your breathing stutters violently at the sight.

Listen, you don’t know if you can survive being this close to him, but you decide to fuck it when Hoseok’s words echo in your mind: you need to get out of your comfort zone more often – go and fuck things up.

Deciding to heed his stupid advice, you shoot Jungkook a smile, “Thought you’d never ask.”

Somehow or other, you two end up eating at a convenience store near campus because ramen after practice is always a good decision.

“So, um, how’s school?” Jungkook starts off, picking up his noodles with regalement, but deadpans upon realising how lame he sounds.

“How’s school?” You repeat with a bemused tone, chuckling at his dry attempt at making small talk.

“I mean like… tell me about yourself? Like how’s school been like for you… Urgh, this is so embarrassing.”

He groans loudly and buries his head in his palms and then peeks at your face through the spaces in between his fingers. His heart swells like never before at your smile and the tinges of amusement dancing in your orbs.

A highly ranked and skilled setter he might be, but Jungkook knows no shit when it comes to his strange, burgeoning feelings for you. He wishes that feelings could be more like volleyball – systematic, clear-cut, and guaranteed a clear, satisfying view if you try hard enough. Human emotions bring along this ambiguity that he’s scared of approaching. He isn’t sure if he is capable of understanding it, but there’s always a first time for everything.

You laugh dryly, “I’m always clueless when I’m supposed to talk about myself. I guess I’m just a normal person with normal dreams and normal hobbies?”

He chuckles boyishly and your breath hitches, nervous as heck from the way he’s looking at you so attentively with a soft smile.

You continue, “Okay, I don’t really have a hobby and I spend a lot of time by myself in my room. I know I’m lame.”

“No, it doesn’t! If it makes you feel better, I feel normal too. With normal dreams and hobbies.”

A corner of your mouth curls up in retaliation. “Being the golden setter of SNU’s volleyball team and probably the best in this entire zone isn’t quite my definition of normal. Now I feel even more boring.”

“No! Urgh… You’re not boring. If you were, I wouldn’t be here listening to you – I swear. And I have a limited patience for boring people… like Coach. God, he is the most boring person in the world.”

“You’re just being nice to me.”

Jungkook shakes his head fervently and your heart gnaws at how disconcerted he is –he’s trying so hard to make you feel better about yourself that it’s endearing.

“Being normal is great, but there’s nothing normal about normal I feel? And you… you’re a special kind of normal. You’re nice, smart, funny, sometimes pretty awkward but still not as awkward as me, so you’re not that bad.”

You chuckle sheepishly, but your smile fades away when he shoots you a longing look before muttering under his breath, “And you make me feel normal.”

His brown eyes glimmer in the hazy streetlights, highlighting the caramel flecks in them. Your eyes dart between his soft expression and his fingers that are drumming against the table.

“Me?” You squeak, startled by Jungkook’s sudden confession. Your mouth drops agape, but it’s quickly overridden by a shy smile when you observe how the little blush on his cheeks has receded to make camp on his ears, the glint in his eyes brighter.

“Yeah. When I’m with you, I feel normal. Not a volleyball player or the golden setter. Just me, Jeon Jungkook.”

Heat sits high on your cheeks as his words linger in your ears. The world seems to hang suspended, out of space and out of time. You try to find your voice but your tongue is suddenly terribly numb, so the two of you continue to sit in silence, staring at one another and enjoying the swim of your heads.

That night, Jungkook walks you back to your dorm and you give him a hug before saying your dreadful goodbye – a lilting whisper of good night Kook.

Hugging isn’t uncommon with the team because they’re strangely big on hugs and being their manager means that you’re their personal teddy bear that they can crush after a long tiring practice. But you don’t miss how you hug Jungkook a little tighter and longer compared to the casual ones you share with the others, relishing the warmth of the sweet honey gold that pulses through his veins. To your surprise, he wraps his arms around you as well and the two of you stay in that position for awhile in the quiet of the night. The way his broad chest heaves up and down alongside his slow, steady humming heartbeat serves nothing but as a solace to you.

You feel safe in his arms.

There is truth that you think Jungkook is cute, that you couldn’t deny, alongside the emotionally-constipated but quiet and sincere ways he cares for the people around him. He’s sincere, doesn’t sugar-coat his words and can also be quite the jokester. He doesn’t flirt excessively and make you feel uncomfortable nor does he do anything particularly extravagant to get your heart racing, but your heart still runs a fucking marathon nonetheless.

That night, you only manage to fall asleep after spending hours trying to counter your own thoughts and coax the erratic slamming of your heart against your chest. He’s a child of the cosmos. You wonder if he sings lullabies and waltzes with the stars in his slumber.

You wonder if the stars look at him in defeat, envious of the way he outshines them all. The effulgence he possesses beats the brilliance of all the other stars.

In between shy glances and awkward banter sessions, Jeon Jungkook has slowly become both the quiet and pandemonium of your heart.

That night, Jungkook’s phone blows up with messages from his teammates and he’s this close to throwing his phone on the wall and strangling them with his bare heads, seniority and all be damned.

[minie hyung] [22:49] jungkookie is getting it [22:49] with y/n our lovely manager!!! 2 qt pies [22:49] [Image]

[best captain in the world] [22:49] damn kid [22:49] it’s only been 2 weeks [22:50] and i didn’t ask y/n to join the team so that you could hit on her??

[jungkook] [22:50] guys wtf I’m not hitting on her!!! [22:50] we’re just friends [22:50] and wtf jimin hyung where were you??? when did you take that pic?

[minie hyung] [22:51] when you 2 were busy staring at each other!! [22:51] i was just walking back home and passed by the store bcs I WAS HUNGRY [22:51] but you were too engrossed in looking at each other and being lovey dovey to notice me but what’s new

[yeontan’s dad] [22:51] y/n’s hella cute tho

[grumpa hyung] [22:52] yeah, really pretty and smart too

[jungkook] [22:52] lmaO say wAT [22:54] she’s mine, just saying [22:55] back the fuck off

[joonie hyung] [22:55] “we’re just friends” he said

[handsome hyung] [22:56] aww our kookie has a crush !! who knew that you were capable of feelings

[jungkook] [22:57] well someone has to take ONE for the team

[best captain in the world] [22:57] wrong interpretation of the phrase kid. [22:58] you just insulted y/n, i’m telling on you

[jungkook] [22:58] NO HYUNG PLEASE DON’T [22:58] I’M SORRY ☹ Y/N PLEASE ☹☹☹ [23:01] hyung????

“So… you and Jungkook, huh?”

Hoseok plumps his ass down dramatically onto the seat beside yours and you, for the nth time, regret choosing that seat on the fifth row on the first day of your English Lit class. Who the hell would have known that you’d sit beside the pesky and loud-as-fuck volleyball captain and end up being extremely good buddies?

“Me and Jungkook?” You tilt your head, though you already have an inkling of what he’s going to bring up. You just wish that he wouldn’t tease you too much about it.

“Yeah, you two have been awfully and shadily close nowadays. You know you’re all that he talks about, right?”

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach at his last sentence. You had no idea at all.

Hoseok catches the flush that runs all the way down to your neck and simpers at your speechless self who’s currently mindlessly picking at your food and avoiding all eye contact.

“And the sexual tension between you two is real. Don’t think the team hasn’t realised. It’s our favourite thing to talk about now. Besides talking about our sexcapades, that is.”

“What the fuck? I totally did not want to know that.”

Shooting him an incredulous glare, you throw a fry at him. The thought of Jungkook engaging in hook-ups bothers the heck out of you and you want to vent all your frustration on your meddlesome friend. You wonder if Jungkook’s as nice to other girls as he is to you, and if there’s another hapless girl who’s in the same plight as you. The thought of it makes you sick.

“Okay, but you must have noticed how intensely Jungkook looks at you. Like he wants to eat you up. Or out.”

“Oh my god, can you not say that so loudly?”

“I speak nothing but the truth, girl.”

“Shu—”

“Speaking of the devil, look who we have here? Your lover boy!” Hoseok guffaws.

Fate is really pulling strings to get the two of you together.

You tilt your head upwards and amidst the bustling students, you spot half of the volleyball team in the middle of the cafeteria – they probably decided to grab lunch together before practice – and then your eyes land on Jungkook, who’s already looking at you with his doe eyes and boyish smile. He’s dressed in his signature look – his favourite oversized black hoodie that practically drowns his physique and grey sweatpants – and damn does he look dashing.

“Guys, over here!”

Hoseok hollers as loud as he can, much to your dismay, diverting all attention to your table and you squirm in your seat with a defeated sigh. As they make their way over, you focus on stuffing your food in your mouth, so you can hurry get the fuck out of here. But before you know it, a tray is settled beside yours and of course, it belongs to none other than Jungkook.

You scowl at your tray, knowing that the guys have obviously left that particular seat empty for Jungkook. From your periphery, he slides into the seat beside yours and your entire body tenses up. Despite having gone out for a meal with him before, you still don’t think you can handle the proximity.

He greets you with a hi and you nod back in response. He has no idea of how his mere presence fills your veins with electricity.

The boys soon fall into a conversation about their rivalry with the other schools and throwing a party before finals to relieve some stress and frustration – you honestly wonder what kind of frustration they’re talking about here.

Sitting with the volleyball players – even just half of the team – for lunch makes you wonder how the heck you agreed to becoming their manager and how you’re still with them because they’re so rowdy and embarrassing. You’d probably feel intimidated by them if you didn’t know them personally, but look at yourself now: you’re part of the team and also hopelessly crushing on their setter, who happens to be sitting right beside you.

“Oh right, Y/N! I have something to show you,” Hoseok coos from across you, wagging his eyebrows suggestively with a sparkle of mirth in his orbs. Interest rekindled, you urge him to spill and he fishes out for his phone from his pocket. At this, you notice Jungkook tense up instantly.

After scrolling through his phone for a few seconds, Hoseok beckons you to lean forward with a shit-eating grin and you have a hunch about what he’s up to.

“The other day, Kookie said some things in the group chat that you might want to see.”

“Hyung!” Jungkook flares up beside you, lurching forward across the width of the table and snatching the phone from Hoseok’s grip before you could even look at the screen properly. “Fuck hyung, you’re such a snake!”

Hoseok only shrugs casually. You have to battle Jungkook yourself if you want to pursue the matter.

“Jungkook, what’s on his phone? Why can’t you show me?”

“Um, i-it’s a secret!” He panics, holding the phone high up and out of your reach.

Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you try to grab it, but Jungkook’s hand is so fucking long that you can’t get the phone within your fingertips regardless of how high you reach out.

“Kook!” You lament, leaning forward to weasel your way to find out why he’s being so shady, but he doesn’t let up and holds the gadget even further away from your reach.

Caught in a frenzy, you don’t realise how your boobs are pressed against his left arm and your other hand is propped onto Jungkook’s thigh. How and when it happened is nebulous. It’s only when your fingers find themselves kneading his thigh that you realise the dire situation you’re in.

Dragging your eyes down to where your hand is at, you halt when you realise that it’s centimetres away from his crotch. Any careless movement and you’ll be brushing against Jungkook’s dick and this very thought sends a small jolt through your body.

Fuck.

The fact that he’s wearing those grey sweats of his doesn’t make things any better as they’re proudly flaunting the distinct outline of his bulge prodding at his sweatpants. Gulping down hard, your whole body freezes up blankly.

Seconds stretch into infinity. When Jungkook realises that you’ve stop persisting, he absentmindedly turns to you and is met with a dangerous view of your cleavage conveniently pressed up against him. But he soon grasps that this isn’t the sole reason why you’ve turned paralysed. When his eyes follow your gaze and find that your hand is milliseconds away from his bulge, he flings Hoseok’s phone onto the table.

“Oh my god, fuck I’m so sorry Jungkook.”

You withdraw your hand away instantly and pry your eyes away from his crotch, though you can’t stop thinking about his bulge. Flopping back into your seat, your limbs turn into goo. You’re definitely going to hell.

He looks up to meet your eyes, fumbling frantically over his words. He wants to bury himself alive.

“It’s ok—I, um, it’s fine, Y/N. It’s okay. Shit—”

He trails off awkwardly and you almost choke at the congealing tension in the air. You swear you could slice it with a knife and then use the same knife to cut Hoseok apart because your friend sure is a devil.

“Gross. Can you guys stop flirting with each other in front of us?” Jimin pipes and you dart your eyes to across the table and see that everyone has their eyes fastened upon the two of you with amused expressions. You close your eyes and wince – maybe if you close your eyes long enough, you’ll disappear into thin air.

Jungkook clears his throat awkwardly and stares hard at his food. He takes a little peek at his crotch and dies a little more inside upon realising that he’s popped a boner in the fucking cafeteria just from your touch. Fingers tugging down the hem of his hoodie, he hopes that you wouldn’t look down and notice it.

The next few minutes of lunch pass by agonisingly with you fuming silently in your chair, looking more like an aggravated hamster than anything with your flustered face and crease on your forehead.

Every time Hoseok reaches over to pet your head, he’s attacked by an icy glare and a hard kick to his shin from the boy sitting two seats opposite him. But he also notices how Jungkook melts at the roses flaring across your cheeks. He’s so whipped. Their golden setter is so fucking whipped and he has no clue what to do about it.

It’s D-20 to the start of the season. The team needs to kick their training into high gear if they want to be ready in time for their first official match and that means absolutely no slacking and only two hundred percent during training and friendlies.

That goes the same for you too. You’ve been busy coming up with strategies for each player and organising friendlies with neighbouring schools. It’s hard to arrange friendlies due to time constraints and it took you tons of phone calls and paperwork, but you manage to secure a session with Hongik University just before the start of the season.

You’re just returning to the sports hall after walking the Hongik team to their bus when a loud bedlam from inside catches your attention. Rushing into the sports hall, you see the SNU players huddled in a circle, tension evident in the air. Arms are being recklessly thrown about and bodies are being shoved.

Squinting your eyes, you take in the breadth of the agitated shoulders and your stomach drops when your mind registers the number 9 on the jersey.

Jungkook.

A wave of panic hits you square in the chest. From where you’re standing, you watch Taehyung grab him on the shoulders to calm him down. The setter retaliates by flinging his arm, turning to your direction in the process. He is livid, cheeks flushed red with eyebrows furrowed as he proceeds to grab another teammate by the collar.

Number 1.

Hoseok.

This sends your stomach flying into a sequence of contortions.

You’ve never seen Jungkook this furious before, normally so composed with his feelings. This very sight gets your blood rushing frenziedly, especially how he’s this close to socking Hoseok in the face – Hoseok, his captain whom he respects so much.

Ignoring the fear that catches in your throat and freezes the breath in your lungs, your legs take you across the court as fast as they can.

Jungkook freezes and drops his fists instantly when he spots you approaching. The nervous flickering of your eyes doesn’t escape his notice and under your worried gaze, he feels the world crumble at his feet. He feels like he’s the shittiest person in the entire world.

You reach out for him with unsteady fingers, but he recoils at the slightest touch of your fingertips, distress and chagrin all over his face. A series of frustrated grunts and curses escapes his lips before he stomps off the court with heavy footsteps, ignoring the concerned looks of his teammates as he barrels out of the door and slams it shut.

You stare blankly at the door, bombarded with a tumult of conflicted emotions. You contemplate running after him, but you understand that Jungkook probably wants some alone time to cool down. So you choose not to, staying behind to check on Hoseok while the others fill you in about the argument.

“I kept missing Jungkook’s tosses and he got mad at himself for not tossing high enough for me, but it’s not even his fault,” Taehyung explains apprehensively. “He was in a bad mood throughout the match, so we lost. After that, Hoseok-hyung went to talk to him and Jungkook started lashing it out on him.”

His lips quiver at the thought of him causing the argument, so you put your hand on his shoulder and offer him a small smile.

“Y/N, check on him for me, please?” Hoseok walks towards you and pats your back softly. You could only nod, because knowing the setter, he’s probably beating himself up right now.

Torn ligaments, twisted joints and sore shoulders: they all heal with time, but disappointing the team is a heavy weight to carry, especially for setters.

It’s the setter’s role to bring out the best of their teammates, to know each of their strengths and weaknesses and adapt accordingly to each player’s skills. And it’s also the setter’s fault if his teammates keep missing his tosses. It’s his fault for their loss today.

Jungkook’s limbs feel so heavy that it’s as though he’s carrying the weight of the world. No one is blaming him. Not to his face, at least. But he knows that he has led them down and his self-deprecating thoughts are so loud that he can literally drown in them. He might look like a dense guy, but there’s a tenacious hurricane living in his mind.

Hunched over on a bench, he grits his teeth and locks his fists, nails digging the skin of his palms, while hot tears threaten to spill. Maybe if he practices harder, maybe if he doesn’t fuck up that often, maybe if he disappears, the team will be better—

“Hey Kook.”

He snaps out of his trance when his ears perk up at the familiar voice. Blinking his tears away, he sees you with the same concerned gaze and feels a sharp tug at his heartstrings at the very sight of your worried expression.

You lower yourself to meet him and press a cool water bottle to his forehead. The sudden coldness makes him look up and the tugs soon multiply rapidly when you smile softly at him, moving to sit beside him.

You don’t talk for a good three minutes, letting the silence weave itself comfortably into the spaces between you two. You don’t really know what to say and you don’t want to force him to talk either.

“You’re always saving my ass.”

Jungkook shatters the unnerving silence with a sigh.

Your lips curl up at his attempt of lightening up the mood. “Maybe that’s because I’m your manager?”

All hardness of his features soon disappear and he looks like a scared bunny. Honestly, you just want to give him a tight hug until you take away all his sorrows.

“I mean, beyond being our manager… You always seem to be around whenever I mess up. You’re like my personal cheerleader,” Jungkook laughs.

His laughter is a sweet symphony to your ears, prompting a small bubble of laughter to escape your lungs too. “Out of all things, I especially don’t want to be your personal cheerleader.”

Your relationship with Jungkook has developed by leaps and bounds over the past few months. From being awkward strangers who could barely hold eye contact for more than two seconds, to a cordial manager-player relationship, and to the good friends (minus the bashful smiles, burning cheeks and occasional NSFW thoughts) who look out for each other that you are today. It’s amazing how much you two have opened up to each other.

“Y/N, do you think I’m self-centred?” He asks suddenly. “I’m sorry that you had to see me like… this. I wished I had a better control of my emotions, but sometimes it’s just really hard, you know…”

His words clog in his throat and he swallows them meekly.

Your heart gnaws at the way he views himself.

“Hey, don’t say that. You’re not self-centred, Kook. In fact, you’re one of the most selfless people I know. And I know it’s hard – it’s normal to feel frustrated. Everyone’s feeling the pressure, but your feelings are valid even on bad days.”

“So… you’re not going to scold me for picking a fight with my teammates? With Hoseok-hyung?”

“You think I came here to do that?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook mumbles and looks away glumly.

“Don’t be silly,” you nudge him softly, urging him to turn towards you. “I came here because I know that you feel responsible for losing today. You’re angry at yourself for Taehyung’s slip-up.”

“Y-You know? How?”

“Hmm, I notice a lot of things about you, Kook. You just don’t realise it.”

An acknowledgment between a whine and a ‘hmm’ escapes from the setter’s lips, so quizzical and innocent that he sounds like a bunny.

“It’s just… I’m the setter and I’m supposed to be the core of the team so if we don’t do well, it’s on me. It’s my fault… I just don’t want to disappoint them.”

The remainder of Jungkook’s sentence dies on the tip of his tongue as he shuts his eyes, remembering the commotion he caused.

“But it’s not your fault, you know that right?”

“I—”

“Do you know how much the team looks up to you? You’re indispensable. The guys depend on your skills, your experiences and trust in them. Yes, the team could have done this and that – a lot of things could have been improved – but we shouldn’t be focusing on the could haves. This is why we practice and practice. You’ll do better next time, I’m sure.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because,” you turn to him, settling your hand on top of his. “You are Jeon Jungkook and all of your teammates have faith in you. Myself included.”

“You?” Stupefied, his voice comes out as a soft whisper.

“I’m your teammate too, right? Oh, and also your personal cheerleader. I mean, this title was kind of forced on me but I’ll take it if it makes you smile – just like how you’re smiling right now.”

Jungkook merely shakes his head with a soft smile and raises his arm to ruffle your hair, stirring up a mini tornado within you. He chuckles when you jump slightly, displaying his bunny teeth in their full glory and though you would have liked to stare a little longer, you have to stop yourself, so you avert your gaze. The pink flush threatening to dot your cheeks is lethal and you can’t afford Jungkook knowing your true feelings.

He then squirms closer, eliminating any space in between you two, and rests his weight on you. Before you know it, he’s lowering his head on your shoulder and your heart soars at the intimacy.

He feels warm beside you. He’s always mysteriously warm and it’s the kind of warmth that brings you nothing but comfort. You resist the urge to press closer against him and tilt your head to match his, still too stricken to move a muscle. He continues fidgeting, until his nose finds the crook of your shoulder.

“It’s nice,” Jungkook murmurs and you almost don’t catch it.

“What’s nice?”

“That you’re here.”

Golden stardust bursts within you upon his words, doing absolutely nothing for the wildfire claiming the land of your chest, but you try to conceal the joy in your voice.

“Well, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Until I get sick of managing you idiots, but I also need extracurricular points, so I’ll still be here, whether you like it or not.”

“I like it.”

Lowering his gaze to the ground, he repeats with an earnestness that wakes up the hummingbird of your heart with a gentle pat on its head. “I like it a lot.”

You can almost imagine Jungkook serenading it with a lullaby – you know he would.

There’s no denying the sudden lightheaded feeling you get from the sweet calm of his presence. You can’t ignore how your wandering eyes are always somehow meeting his sparkly ones and how they rest on you longer than they should, rendering you breathless every single time.

While Jungkook is energetic and burning with passion, slightly insecure and childlike in his own dumb Jeon Jungkook ways like a young fire, you, on the other hand, are perceptive and calm, like a soft breath of cool air on a hot summer day that sways the knee-high grass in the meadows. And maybe this is why he adores you so much, for you are each other’s opposite and complement.

You used to be skeptical about the idea of love and hate all sorts of uncertainties, but that was until you found a new home in the galaxy of Jungkook’s eyes.

“Shall we head back?”

He stands up, looking as determined as ever. He offers his hand to help you up and you gladly reach for it. To your surprise, Jungkook slips his fingers into yours wordlessly and any hope of catching your breath fizzles out.

The two of you walk back to the court with comets dancing across your rosy cheeks and smiles brighter than the celestials in Jungkook’s eyes.

He’s hella whipped for you – that he will willingly admit defeat. There isn’t a definite time or date when he realised that he has his little crush on you, or when that little crush has graduated into a serious, ardent adoration for you. It’s a gradual plummeting; a peaceful and clandestine descent before his heart was willingly taken hostage by you.

You’re catastrophically beautiful, completely detrimental to the feeble defences of his heart. You never fail to soothe the storms in his mind with your lulling presence. No one has ever heightened such a keen capacity of physical sensation in him and to be very honest, he is utterly petrified, but he wants to try, if it’s with you.

The world around you is spinning.

As part of their team bonding efforts and to relieve some stress before the season, the team has decided to throw a party at Hoseok and Namjoon’s frat house, which only means: a fuck ton of alcohol and unruly volleyball players with no brain or mouth filter whatsoever.

After chugging seven shots of vodka and four shots of suspicious mixtures that were handed to you, you’re more than just out of it. Everything is fuzzy and ten folds funnier, liquid confidence smouldering within your bloodstream. The amount of alcohol in your system is enough to make heat pool in your stomach and send your thoughts into a frenzy.

You’re aware that you’re badly smashed, but for fuck’s sake, you don’t understand why you can’t stop having nasty thoughts about the boy sitting in front of you.

Opposite you, Jungkook is watching his embarrassing teammates sputter into a howling bout of laughter with an amused grin. From his half-lidded eyes, he’s a little out of it, but he still looks fucking good and this causes your chest to swell.

You’ve made eye contact with him for the fifteenth time within the past two hours. Much could be said in the language of stealth. It’s as though you two enjoy this little game of the push and pull attraction of two magnets. You don’t miss the twinkle in his eyes that never fails to ignite a deep fire in your bones, washing your senses away. As you imploringly pry yourself away from his intense gaze, you turn to see Hoseok flashing you his most annoying grin ever.

“Fuck off,” you mouth, knowing exactly what your idiot of a friend is about to say, but this only urges him to tease you even more and you want to sock him in the face.

Without wiping that annoying smirk off his face, he leans forward and whispers into your ear, “You two little shitheads have been eye-fucking each other the entire time.”

“Wha—”

“He probably has a boner right now. Just look at him trying to cover it up.”

Your eyes search for Jungkook. Shifting uncomfortably with a cushion planted on top of his lap, his irises suddenly dart all over the room to avoid looking anywhere near you.

You gulp down.

He has a boner?

The voice in your mind screams at you hysterically and you can almost hear the smile in her tone. He has a boner. A fucking boner! Fuck.

How your thoughts run from wanting to tape Hoseok’s mouth so that he’ll shut up for the first time in his life to imagining yourself taking care of Jungkook’s hard-on is beyond you. The mere thought of Jungkook’s hard dick strained against his jeans gets your mind whirling with images of you kneeling on your knees, kissing the head of his dick before taking him completely in your mouth and blowing him till he comes.

Between glowing cheeks and averted eyes, you abandon the righteous battle with your morals, knowing exactly what you want.

You want him. You want him to fuck you senseless until you forget your own name.

These thoughts send a bolt of heated pleasure straight to your core, causing wetness to pool between your thighs.

Frenziedly, your eyes trail back to the setter and you notice him fidgeting uneasily under your gaze. Fuck, you’re not freaking drunk enough for this. You reach out to grab the drink from Hoseok and down the deathly concoction that he probably made with the intention of getting downright wasted. Seconds after your brave and reckless act, you wince at the burn of your throat.

Hopes of washing your cacophonous, lustful thoughts away with the burning liquor go in vain because it’s just simply fucking impossible. This has morphed into a battle of brain and heart. Your heart definitely knows what it wants: for Jungkook to take you there and then, but your brain is screaming at you to stop being so concupiscent. But since when have you ever listened to your brain? Jungkook probably doesn’t even think of you that way. Poor boy’s probably going to be mortified when he finds out how ready you are to bend over for him.

Shoving Hoseok away in embarrassment because you’re ashamed that that bitch has caught you red-handed, you decide to hide in one of the rooms to clear your head because the living room is an intolerable place to catch your breath and rid your filthy thoughts when everyone is raucously downing shots and screaming at one another. You may be a wreck, but this place is a breeding place for hell and havoc. So much for team bonding.

After finding your way through the maze of sloppy and rowdy drunks, you spot a bedroom down the hall – yes that’s right, Hoseok’s room. Hopefully, that will teach him a lesson for perpetually feeding off your misery.

In your drunken state, it takes you a few fumble attempts to ease the door open and when you see one of the boys sitting on the edge of the bed, you know you’re utterly fucked.

Jungkook.

With a cup of vodka in hand, looking as irresistibly riveting as ever.

A whimper finds its way lodged in your throat and you’re unsure whether to laugh or cry at the absurd situation, because ending up in the same room with the boy whom you’ve been trying to avoid the entire night because you couldn’t stop thinking about sucking his dick dry is truly ridiculous.

His eyes widen when he finds you at the door and his lips can’t help but part to expose his teeth at your surprised and shit-faced expression.

“Y/N?” He slurs, voice raspy, and you grasp that he, just like you and everyone else in this apartment, is wasted as fuck, so you should definitely leave before you do something that you’ll regret. You’re about to turn on your heels and hide from him for the night and well, the rest of your life, but the alcohol pulsing through your veins screams at you to fuck it and go against your thoughts.

“Hey,” you mumble, closing the door behind you.

“You okay?” Even in your drunken state, you can still hear the worry burning at the edges of his usually composed voice. You nod as he pats the space beside him and you amble towards him.

“It was too noisy. Had to take a breather in somewhere quiet,” he mumbles, raising his cup to his lips.

“Me too.”

The two of you continue to sit in silence, drinking in the moment of weird stillness and suffering from the whirlpool in your heads. At the speed that your thoughts are racing at, it’s a feat how your mind is still functioning – how it can still coherently form lewd thoughts and images of Jungkook buried in between your thighs.

You need to tame the fire that’s flaring viciously within you before you lose control and pounce on him. For what it’s worth, you notice that he has been anxiously fidgeting with his cup, downing it for the nth time in the past five minutes. You’re pretty sure that he’s drinking nothing and is probably just as nervous as you.

Deciding that anywhere would be better than being stuck in a room with the boy whom you can’t stop lusting for, you break the silence, “Um, maybe I… should go—”

When you stand up to leave, Jungkook frantically leans forward and grabs hold of your wrist, pulling you towards him. He hasn’t meant to do it, but you somehow end up toppling over, bones liquefied by the booze.

The room starts to spin even faster, your orbs flickering back and forth. Your body is planted snug on top of his thighs, your hands and boobs pressed against his broad chest and your crotch against his bulge.

Arms firm around your waist, his body heat zaps your skin with a fiery warmth, flaring up your neck and ripening your features with an unbridled lust. For the briefest of moments, you swear you feel his dick twitch beneath you and the way he gulps down his saliva hard confirms that he bears the exact same thoughts.

“Oops, sorry,” you giggle, feeling an abrupt surge of high from the alcohol. You push against him to steady yourself, but he doesn’t let up, arms still locked around your befuddled self.

Another deafening silence descends. Even in your intoxicated state, you can still hear the thumping of your heartbeat blasting in your eardrums. You two look into each other’s eyes, unmoving. You can’t tell much from Jungkook’s eyes since they’re droopy and hazy, but he’s looking at you so intensely that it sends another zap of electricity down your spine and to your arousal. You subconsciously rub your thighs together and his lips curl up into a smirk when he realises the effect he has on you.

“Y/N,” Jungkook whispers hoarsely and he leans in till he’s dangerously close, till the delicate graze of his mouth transgresses the juncture between your jaw and ear and a familiar prickle of gooseflesh tremor moves along your neck at the sudden proximity.

“You’re so beautiful.”

A cascade of warmth starts to pour into your abdomen, the intimacy of the moment suddenly drawing upon you. You can even smell the alcohol from his breath and it’s inebriating, making you wetter than ever.

“Can I kiss you?”

He breathes into your ear and you jerk your head in bewilderment, eyes wide and ears ringing. You hesitate and wonder if he’s joking, but he shows no sign of teasing; just a look of patience and sincerity.

“Y-Yeah,” your words come out practically as a whimper and you let your eyes fall shut as he slowly inches forward.

When he presses his lips against yours, a fizzle of electricity runs through your veins. His lips are everything that you’ve imagined – soft and warm. Intoxicating.

He parts them slightly, enough to capture yours nicely, and presses in a little firmer. The tip of his tongue shyly licks at your bottom lip, coaxing you in more, and you feel like melting in honey.

Greedy for more, you chase his tongue and he chuckles in satisfaction, tangling his tongue with yours. God, he can taste the vodka and sprite on you and as silly as it sounds, he thinks this is the best mix he has ever tasted.

You whimper against his mouth, fingers threading through his hair and tugging softly at them.

“Fuck. I want to do bad things to you,” he exhales with a little whine, hands smoothing up the expanse of your back.

Despite your drunken, flummoxed state, you manage to hear him loud and clear. A deeper surge of tabooed desire runs through your veins at the thought of Jungkook getting turned on by you. You imagine him getting off to thoughts of you, desperate for your touch. You wonder what kind of risqué fantasies he has of you and if they’re as filthy as yours.

“Like what?”

“Urgh Y/N, please don’t make me say it out loud. I’m drunk, but not drunk enough to tell you that I want to fuck you.”

“You do?” You ask, voice laced with a barely restrained frustration.

“I want to strip you bare and fuck you. Right. Now.”

“How badly?” You bat your eyelashes at him coquettishly. It’s almost impossible to curb the lingering wisps of excitement brewing low in your stomach.

“So fucking bad,” he groans, gnawing at his bottom lips anxiously. “B-But not today… I want it to be done properly.”

You sulk blatantly, tugging at his hair again.

Cupping your cheeks, he lowers his forehead to meet yours and chuckles, “It has to be somewhere perfect for you. N-Not in my captain’s dirty ass room.”

“But Kook,” you protest with a whine and press yourself against him. His entire body tenses up when your cold hands begin to roam, slipping underneath his shirt and tracing the hot flesh of his chiselled abs.

“God, you’re such a tease. Fuck you.”

The desperation in Jungkook’s voice is shameless and he’s this to close to surrendering at the hands of your intoxicated dirty self.

“Please do,” you whimper frivolously against his neck, licking at the tender exposed skin. The heat between your legs is so intense that it’s starting to ache with need.

“Y/N—”

“Fuck, I fucking love your thighs.”

It must be the alcohol talking, but fuck it. You’re going to follow your heart’s desire.

“W-What?”

He stiffens underneath when your nimble fingers graze along the inside of this thighs.

“Do you know how distracting your thighs are when you wear those volleyball shorts?”

“You were staring at my thighs?” The teasing lilt caressing the edges of his voice doesn’t escape your ears.

“Your thighs are fucking thick. It’s too tempting to look away.”

The winning moment of liquid courage takes over your brain completely and you can’t help but moan unabashedly when Jungkook’s fingers slip under your dress, grazing your skin languidly.

“I-I want to ride your thigh.”

There. You said it, embarrassment drowned in giddy anticipation and longing ages ago.

Jungkook grunts despairingly. Every single nerve-ending of his is aflame, skin tingling with ferocious desire.

You are going to the bane of his existence.

“Please?” You beg wantonly, aching to be touched.

In sly discretion, you press your thighs together, desperate for some sort of friction that will make your throbbing need easier to bear and Jungkook clicks his tongue in fake annoyance, shooting you a glare when he realises what you’re doing.

“Fuck, Y/N. You’re trying to kill me. I’ve had a hard-on ever since you arrived.”

You giggle, noticing how his normally-doe eyes darken with rampant lust and you rub your thighs even more.

“You’re so fucking pretty. So beautiful. Fuck my life.”

He rolls his lower half suggestively, allowing you to detail the thick profile of his length – underneath lies a furious red begging to be touched and sucked.

“Ride my thigh,” he instructs, eyes glassy with lust and desire, inducing another wave of lechery to consume your insides.

Without any hesitation, you adjust your position on his thigh to make yourself at home, torso melding against his and this fucking turns you on like no other. Eyes rolled back into your head, you start to grind on his thigh, shuddering blissfully at the hard ridges of muscles against your dripping core.

Pleased with your reaction, he flexes his thighs with a satisfied smirk and a shiver traverses your entire body, leaving you with a spasm of nerves. You wail his name out loud – knowing that the others outside probably can’t hear it and your whimpers increase in volume and pitch when his fingers linger around the elastic of your panties, before palming your ass cheeks to anchor you closer to him.

You moan at his touch, begging for more. The wetness in between your thighs has long ruined your underwear and Jungkook’s jeans.

“Fuck, your ass,” he grunts loudly from the back of his throat, finding purchase on your ass cheeks and kneading them with a vice-like and desperate grip.

“The guys were talking about how cute your ass is and I told them to shut the fuck up. Do you know how fucking hard I get when you bend over to pick up the volleyballs? I always have to spend hours jerking off after practice.”

You moan in response, light-headed from the mental image. Jacking off in the locker room is not anything new or a taboo among the guys. But Jungkook always spends a longer time than the others in the cubicle to curb the pulsating urges between his legs. The mere thought of you, innocently batting your long lashes at him and being so intimate with him, has always been enough to make him cum.

Wiped over by another intense surge of lust, you grow an ardent urge to touch him more. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing he wants to see in this world, it’s like a battle of waits between predator and prey, but you are lucidly aware of what you want.

Slipping your hand between your bodies, your fingers trail down from his toned abs to graze against the prominent outline of his clothed bulge and it grows to its full hardness almost immediately from your touch. You haven’t even seen his dick yet, but fuck, you really, really want a taste of Jungkook’s dick.

“I-I want your dick. So bad. Please, Jungkookie. Please?”

You’re so filthy that you don’t even recognise yourself. Moving your hand along his length, you stroke him through the two layers of material, but you can still feel the heat of his cock against your palm. Just as you’re about to unzip his jeans, he stops you to your disappointment.

“No, not today,” he manages to breathe out, nearly at his wit’s end. His voice is about to crack from his insatiable hunger for you, while you groan despondently in response.

Jungkook’s fingers trace along the length of your neck until they find their way into your hair and run through them as he leans down to the crook of your neck. You shiver when his breaths coast on the exposed skin of your throat before he nips gingerly on your skin, soft one moment and dirty the next, relishing how it makes you jump.

God, he can smell you at this proximity. Your favourite citrus and lavender scent. He stifles a laugh at how you can still smell so tantalisingly innocent when you’re so fucking needy for him. His dick grows even harder, turned on by the stark difference in your character and this makes it even harder for him to prevent blowing his load there and then.

He desperately wants to pin you down, strip you bare, explore your body in all of its magnificence, memorise every crevice of your body and then fuck your brains out till his name is the only thing you know. But he needs to hold himself back, not wanting it done sloppily at a party and especially not when you’re drunk, but he’s this close to joining the dark side.

White stars begin to dot the edges of his vision.

He digs his fingers into your waist to press you closer to him, thigh bouncing rhythmically so your clit brushes against a different area of his toned thigh each time. It brings a euphoric sensation to your core, the tingles spreading fast and sending you near delirious. A writhing wreck, you can only fall limp against his chest, muffling your stuttering whimpers. You wish he’d let you come apart with his fingers, but the way he’s grinding his thigh up against your clit is intoxicating enough, much more than the alcohol in your blood.

“That’s it,” he smirks, watching you grind your hips back and forth with a lustful gaze and you reach up to kiss his neck to exhibit your high.

“You like this?”

“Fucking,” you mewl wantonly, tugging at his tousled locks. The heat radiating from Jungkook’s body burns addictively and sharp intakes of air occur against your lips, leaving your throat to run dry. “Love it.”

He grins at your honesty, more spurred to make you feel good. Tonight, it’s all about you and your pleasure. Hovering over him, you let your mouth hang open and inhale each other in. His breath coasts on your cheeks when he pulls away for air, only to dive back into the pristine juncture of your throat, attacking the delicate skin, searching and starving. He doesn’t stop sucking and running his tongue across your skin till your neck is painted with lilac bruises, till he’s satisfied with his very own masterpiece.

“J-Jungkook, please.”

With a predatory gaze, he watches how your breasts bounce with each rock of your hips and leans south to trail his tongue down your cleavage. You hook your arm around his neck, soft whimpers leaving your mouth when the pleasure overpowers you till you can’t even find your voice. Jungkook hums in satisfaction, burying his face into your chest.

Discovering the pleasant weight of your breasts and the firm peaks of your nipples against his calloused palms, he kneads them hungrily, fuelling the growing pressure that’s culminating in the pit of your stomach.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so hot.”

A combination of a hoarse moan and gasp is strangled out of Jungkook’s throat from the depths of his lungs. His spine straightens as his body locks up over the sudden onslaught of pleasure. The slick noises of your folds against his thigh are almost deafening now, filthy to the core, but not as erotic as your moans. He honestly can’t believe this is happening, after his many fantasies of being this intimate with you.

“Jungkook,” you moan shamelessly when the coil inside you grows tighter and tighter, hotter and hotter. “I’m cl-close.”

“Come for me, baby.”

The smallest of smirks tugs at the corner of his mouth when he runs a finger down your clothed core, further tightening that coil in your belly. You feel so vulnerable under his command, but his dominance lights up your nerves like fireworks. You fucking love it.

Jungkook’s leg starts bouncing faster and the otherworldly sensation sends you over the edge. Your nails dig deeper into his biceps to stable yourself as your legs begin to shake, stomach knotting. You choke back a sob as you jerk your hips up, moaning an incoherent string of curse words and his name all mixed in one. The sight of your lovely face hovers over his, your swollen mouth hanging apart, eyes half-lidded in a torrent of bliss and neck messily painted in purple bruises.

Jungkook holds your hips down to help you with your high, whispering sweet praises into your ear as his hands stroke your sides. He lifts his leg ever so slightly, dragging the hard muscles against your core once again until you snap your eyes shut, your entire body briefly locked up and dispersed into a series of erratic spasms.

The idyllic blinding white fades to only a shimmer at the edges of your eyes. You slump forward, burying your face into his chest. Seconds after, he follows suit, coming untouched in his pants.

Head still buried in his chest, Jungkook wraps his arms around you to engulf you in a tight hug. He breathes heavily against his work of art on your neck and jerks up when reality hits him square in the face.

Your breath is still ragged in your lungs, forehead rested on his shoulder as he gently rubs comforting circles on your back. You’ve ridden off most of the intoxication, but you still can’t think straight. Not when Jungkook is nipping at the soft lobe of your ear, an attempt to coax you into relaxing.

“That was… wow.”

He breaks the silence with a sheepish smile as he pushes the messy strands of your hair away from your face, gingerly running his thumb over your rubescent cheeks. He leans his head down to meet your forehead, brushing the tip of his nose with yours.

“Yeah,” you breathe out softly and he can hear the gears turning frantically in your mind.

“You don’t… regret it, do you? Fuck, I’m so sorry… We’re both drunk and I shouldn—”

“No! Of course not,” you shake your head, “I-I liked it.”

“You liked it?” From the lilt that caresses the edges of his voice, he’s clearly enjoying this.

“Urgh, shut the hell up!”

Even in his post-snogging and thigh-riding state, he still looks incredible. He’s just so delicate and nice to you that it’s almost unreal – it’s like being in a dream. He looks at you like you hold the stars in the night sky with utter adoration, before pecking a soft kiss on your forehead.

At this very moment, you realise that you’re irrevocably, hopelessly and unabashedly in love with him and there’s no turning back, not when the stars in his eyes are twinkling with nothing but love.

Jungkook and you aren’t exactly a thing. Not yet. Sure, you guys hang out exclusively and all like before, but neither of you has popped the question or sat down to delve into the daunting topic of Feelings.

The morning after, both of you wake up to tangled limbs, bad morning breaths, bashful smiles and memories of last night’s dalliance. He tells you to give him some time because honestly, he thinks he needs all the time he can have to ensure that he does this relationship thingy properly with you. The last thing he would want is to fuck things up with you. And you tell him that you’ll wait for him, because you know how hard things have been on him. Juggling between volleyball and school work is tough enough, so you don’t want to give him more pressure.

However, you realise that there have been several changes regarding the way he acts with and around you. Whether it’s because of that intimate night or stress from volleyball (or both), Jungkook has become so much touchier with you – he’s always wanting to hold your hand and keeping you by his side. Displaying of affection is also more common in front of his teammates, but it’s not like you have anything against it. He probably needs more attention and affection since the season is only days away.

After a series of friendlies, the season has finally begun and the boys have never been readier, all prepared to be crowned as champions. With your clipboard attached to your hand, you unwaveringly multitask between watching the semi-final match and taking down notes for the boys.

Their semi-final match is with Yonsei University. While you’re pale in the face standing at the sidelines, the boys are determined and embody a degree of calmness on the court, their nerves submerged by the jolts of adrenaline. They’ve got the upper hand with Yonsei and their win is guaranteed, but it’s impossible not to feel anxious.

The crowd cheers as Jungkook tosses the ball to Taehyung at a calculated height and precision and the latter spikes it down before their opponents even have time to blink. The incident from last month comes to mind. You’re glad that he has learnt to have more confidence and trust in himself and his teammates, though he dedicates this improvement to you and your calming presence.

"You're at set-point, so please focus. And don't do anything dumb," you tease, placing your hands on your hips and faking a scowl at him as he unblinkingly hovers over you. You remember how you used to be afraid by their builds, but you’ve grown slightly accustomed after awhile, though there’s one thing that you think you’ll never get used to: the way Jungkook looks at you with stars dancing in his eyes.

“I’m kidding, kiddo. You’ll do well like always, okay? I know you will. Now go there and kick some ass.”

He nods and downs the water bottle that you’ve handed to him before pouring the remaining over his head. His action doesn’t surprise you anymore as you already have a towel ready to wipe him dry.

But what takes you aback is when he grabs you by your shoulders and leans down to meet your eyes. You open your mouth, ready to lament about him touching you with his clammy hands, but retract upon seeing the change in Jungkook’s demeanour.

Despite the loud cheers from all four directions, Jungkook can hear his heart racing loudly in his ears. Just before the whistle pierces through the court to signal the end of time-out, he traces your jaw with his fingertips and whispers into your ear, his mellifluous voice softer than snow, “I have something that I need to tell you after the game.”

Tinges of affection waltzes with the stars in his pupils. He looks at you like you hold his entire world on the tips of your fingers, like he just needs you for everything to be okay.

Lacing your fingers together, warmth seeps from his palm into yours like a soft, comforting hum and you know exactly what he wants to tell you.

“Okay, I’ll be waiting here.”

With a sliver of hope, he jogs back to the court. It’s now his turn to serve. With that same palm that just held yours, he gallantly performs the best serve of his life, one that spirals off his palm to shoot through the hole between the other team’s back line, clinching a safe spot for SNU in the finals.

After five long sets, SNU wins Yonsei by a landslide and the team gets an evening off before they resume practice the next day. Jungkook seizes this chance to take you out for dinner, somewhere that isn’t at the convenience store.

The sky is already soaked in sparse hues of navy and black, and the silence of the night becomes even more endearing due to Jungkook’s mere presence by your side. He’s nervous, you can tell, even more than this morning, from the way he’s bouncing nervously on the balls of his shoes, as though he’s about to combust.

His vision zones in on how your bottom lip is caught between your teeth – a habit of yours whenever you’re unsure, so he takes you into his arms and intertwines your fingers together. You relax involuntarily when he starts rubbing circles onto your palm.

Jungkook cranes his neck up, lips grazing the shell of your ear and you shudder at his warm breath fanning against your skin, inviting the rise of gooseflesh to scatter all over your neck.

He wraps one hand around your waist and looks deeply into your orbs, as though he’s spellbound by the iridescent glint in your eyes and the roses flaring up across your cheeks under the sliver of moonlight.

And in the velvet of the summer night, he gingerly whispers, with utter adoration swelling his chest to the size of the moon. The words that you have repeatedly dreamed of him to say. The words that you’ve been wanting to tell him. The words that have been trapped hidden behind his heart for the longest time.

“I love you.”

You feel the warmth of Jungkook’s palms cradling your blushing features, while he strokes your cheeks with his thumb.

“Kook,” you breathe out softly.

“I love you, Y/N.”

He repeats in a tone three notches deeper, paired with an earnestness that gets your heart ricocheting in your ribcage.

“I knew there was something about you when you joined us on the first day… And I confirmed it after sacrificing my own nose.”

“Sacrifice? You mean it was on purpose?” A sparkle of mirth glimmers in your eyes under the hazy yellow light.

“I normally don’t get distracted, but I couldn’t help but get upset when you came back into the court laughing with Seokjin-hyung. I was still staring at you when I got hit on the face.”

“You’re so silly, but at least your boopy nose is still cute. I love your nose.”

“And my thighs, right?”

You blush fervently at the memory of that night.

“Fuck Y/N, I just confessed to you and all you do is tell me that you love my nose,” he laughs, his thumb still rubbing circles onto your cheek.

Your lips curl up into a smile. “Kiss me?”

“I will give you the entire world if you asked me to.”

His whisper is so earnest and affectionate that it makes you feel like melting.

In a graceful sweep, he pulls you closer by the hips, finding purchase on your waist. The first touch is similar to the caress of a feather, so light that you could barely feel it. The tip of his tongue skims over the rosy flesh of your bottom lip, eliciting goosebumps that tingle along the nape of your neck. You close your eyes, feeling like you’re plummeting into a bottomless pit.

Jungkook’s lips are soft, a little chapped, as they meld to yours. He kisses you like he hasn’t kissed you before, like it’s your first time being completely vulnerable to each other, like planets condemned by gravity to collide.

Images of him moaning shamelessly beneath you as you grind on his thigh and him kneading your ass get completely fizzed out of your memory. You can only think of him kissing you, how tenderly he’s holding onto you, how sweet his lips taste onto yours and how sincere he is on stealing your breath.

You can only think of how the objection of your affection is coruscating before you as he sprinkles his personal collection of stardust onto your lips, with a love so blazingly radiant that it rivals the intensity of the sun.

You feel golden.

Like you’re lying on a bed of sunflowers, drifting alongside the movement of summer’s light towards glistening honey.

A whimper lodges itself in your throat, bubbling against Jungkook’s lips and even in the darkness behind your eyelids, you can vividly picture the crescent of his smile forming against your lips.

The tip of his tongue prods at the seam of your lips and you part your lips to let him in entirely. You reach out and caress the nape of his neck to deepen the kiss, jumping slightly in surprise when his fingers splay gingerly over your waist, tugging at the hem at your shirt languidly. Your mind has long become a labyrinth of little streets that you have difficulty navigating, sent into a turmoil by how sweet his love tastes. It’s insane how much you yearn for his burning touch.

You inch away slowly and your eyes land on his, now glistening with solar debris that sends instant palpitations to your heart. He stares at you longingly, like he can’t believe that you’re really here in front of him, cocooned up against his body and adoration swells in his chest. He feels like combusting, but he also feels like hugging you and having you all to himself till the end of time.

“You know how I feel for you, right?” You mumble, looking deep into his orbs.

Jungkook notices how your bottom lip is taut between your teeth and the hint of a blush is still glowing effervescently on your cheeks. You’re beautiful. A visual spectacle, a sight to behold. You’re so beautiful that his chest constricts, lungs taking a sparse second to remember how to fucking breathe normally again.

“Remind me?” He whispers back.

You let out a giggle at how ardently Jungkook is gazing at you and how lovely he looks right now, exhilaration gleaming like a kaleidoscope of stars in his eyes.

This time, you lean in, planting your lips on the rosy flesh on his mouth and he softens. Kissing him is akin to drinking hot chocolate on a rainy winter day, snuggling under your warm quilt after a long day and dancing in the rain. It feels like weaving through time and space.

Pulling away, he lets out another one of his boyish laughs, tugging at your heartstrings for the umpteenth time that night before dusting kisses over every inch of your blushing features, exhaling words of love against your skin. You see galaxies sprawled all over in the darkness of your closed eyelids.

“I love you Jeon Jungkook,” you breathe out, gracing the shell of his ear. “I love you so much and I swear by the stars in your eyes.”

“Are you… wearing Jungkook’s jersey from last season or are my eyes playing tricks on me?” Hoseok quips, eyebrows raised.

“Oh.”

You look down at your attire – Jungkook’s old jersey and a pair of denim jeans. “Yeah, he made me wear it and now I feel like some frat boy’s hoe.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you. Hell knows what the kid did while wearing that jersey, probably jerked off in it like a million times. Oh and he also sweats a lot – I know it’s been washed and all, but it’s literally a sweat-drenched shirt. Unless you’re into that kink…? Like Jungkook’s sweat? Hit me up, baby.”

You throw the nearest object at him – your clipboard, clocking him square in the chest, though the boy remains unperturbed.

“Listen, I’m really happy that you’re here with us. You’ve been with us for only three months, but you’ve been of such great help to the team and we all really appreciate you being here. So yeah, thank you?”

“It’s so weird that you’re being nice to me,” you chortle. “But no worries, dude. I somehow like suffering, so I like being the team’s manager.”

“Well, you have Jungkook now – take it as a thank you gift from the team, won’t you? He’s a good human sacrifice for the satanic you,” Hoseok waggles his eyebrows greasily.

“Fuck off,” you sneer back, rolling your eyes.

“Jungkook is a great guy, really, even though he’s an overgrown, emo baby bunny,” he quotes himself and you recall what happened the first time you met Jungkook. “But I’m just really happy for the both of you.”

Time really doesn’t wait for no one.

Amidst a whirlwind of tiring training sessions, worn-out limbs and bottles of protein shakes, three months have come and gone in a blink of an eye. Your first season with the volleyball team is approaching an end.

It’s finally D-day and everyone has been waiting for this since forever – their final match with Hanyang University.

The game passes in flashes of white, alongside the voices of excitement and desperation, hand signs and bruises that stacked up quicker than their attacks. They're ferociously neck and neck with Hanyang – both teams are refusing to relent, tightening up their plays and leaving fewer and fewer loopholes in their game as they vie for match point of their fifth and final set.

Your lips are probably chapped from biting on them, bearing the brunt of anxiety, as you continue to chant please, please let them win to yourself.

A risky ball returns to your side of the court and your heart stops at the difficulty of receiving it, but Jimin slides across the court in time and manages to save it, hollering loudly, “Chance ball!”

He digs it towards where Jungkook is poised, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and everyone drops into their ready positions, all eyes on the ball and set to put an end to the intense rally.

It’s only a matter of milliseconds before the ball falls into the cupped hands of the golden setter who then pushes it back up in the air, quick and effortless, to an altitude that complements the height of Hoseok’s jump. Without even the slightest of delays, the captain is up on his feet and stretches his hand to slam the ball down ruthlessly.

His smack sends it rocketing towards the other side of the court and his opponents scramble to receive it. It brushes against their libero’s forearm, but it’s almost impossible to save it from the speed and force it’s flying at, and meets the floor with a satisfying thwack of finality. Everyone freezes all at once with hitched breathes, eyes glued to how the ball dribbles obstinately in a slow motion, before rolling away from the perimeter of the court.

The last whistle breaks the static silence to announce the finality. Everyone turns to the score chart – 28 to 26.

There and then, the gym erupts into a positive torrent of roars and it takes a few prolonged seconds before reality hits Jungkook right in the face.

SNU won the championships.

They won the season!

Consciousness comes streaming back to the players after awhile. Yoongi is the first to scream, unexpectedly, with a loud fuck yeah and this snaps everyone out of their trance. Jimin’s reaction comes next, falling to his knees to do his signature slide, both fists pumped in the air as he snarls, “We fucking won!”

The players then tackle one another into a tight group hug, all smiling triumphantly and throwing their fists up in excitement. The sound of cheering from the crowd sends a tingle up their spines and it feels so fucking good.

Coach Kim is already on his feet, running towards them with the proudest smile you’ve ever seen on him and you’re about to follow suit, until you see Jungkook break away from the huddle and barrel towards you at a speed too fast for your comprehension.

Smiling at how his face is lit up like the stars in his eyes, you throw your arms wide open and he dives into your embrace, hot tears brimming at the edges of both your eyes. He engulfs you into the tightest hug he’s ever given anyone and you wrap your arms around his waist, heart swelling with pride.

He feels like the dew on a perfectly bloomed rose in your comforting arms as he nuzzles further into the crook of your neck, relishing the warmth of your lithe body against his.

“Kook! You did it, oh my god!” You scream in joy, but your repeated words of congratulations get muffled by his broad chest.

He leans back to take a look, a really good look of your beaming face that screams nothing but pride and love, before scooping you up in a graceful sweep and twirling you around, simply because words cannot describe how happy he feels.

A soft, feather-light peck is then pressed on your ear and a blush makes camp on your cheeks. His warmth leaves your skin after a fleeting second, the cool air of the sports hall rushing back to stroke the flaming blush on your cheeks.

Still riding the high from their win, he then leans in to kiss the beam from your lips and the open display of affection makes your heart burst in your chest. Behind you two, the entire volleyball is wolf-whistling and applauding raucously. Jungkook scrunches his nose in embarrassment at how all his teammates and Coach are gawking at the two of you, but really, he cannot find any damns to give.

Red-faced and bright-eyed, the champions of the season make their way out of the court with a steady, triumphant gait, their bodies pumped with a brew of adrenaline and slight exhaustion. Lagging at the back of the team is Jungkook and you in your own little bubble. His fingers are interlaced firmly with yours and he registers that his heart will forever and always be set on you.

In his eyes, you see stars. You see yourself. You see the two of you.

You see love.

For the nth time that day, Jungkook leans in to meet your lips and he knows very well that this is the sweetest victory he will ever taste in his life.

Note | If you’re reading this, hi there love! ♡ Thank you so much for reading my first piece on this site. If you liked it, hit that like or reblog button or/and hmu with feedback or talk to me here – it’ll really make my day ♡ This was beta-ed by Ali @gukseuphoria and J @glitterjjk – thank you for being my first beta readers! There’ll be more stories coming your way, check out my WIPs for more! 💫💛✨

(A special shoutout to Ayv @piedpipers for being my first friend here and for always believing in me and hyping me up 👭🌞🌸💖)

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neioo · 6 years ago

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I’m graduating on Saturday so I decided to create a notable moment's bulleted list thing that ended up being 2k. It’s more of a diary thing, but it was fun to write, so I’m gonna post it here. Feel free to ignore or read haha

Notable Moments:

Freshman year fall semester: My IR professor asked if anyone knew what countries were involved in the Truman Doctrine. I raised my hand and said Turkey and Greece, knowing that answer because I wrote about the dumb fucking thing in my IB HL history final. She then proceeded to say: “No one in all my years of teaching has ever answered that question correctly.”

Freshman year spring semester: I had to take a course to fulfill my science requirement and decided to take this evolution class. On the first day of the class, the professor said that attendance and participation mattered and then proceeded to never take attendance/ask anyone’s names. I was shy and never spoke in class, but I made up for it by emailing the dude like all the time asking questions. One day in class, near the end of the semester, I decided to raise my hand to answer a question. He looked at me and said, “Yes, Maddie?” The rush of euphoria that he knew my name was unmatched. When it came time for finals he then sent me an email saying I didn’t have to take it and that I already got an A in the course. Thank you Dr. Fong. Also on one of the tests where there were multiple-choice answers he just had like. Italian jokes for choice d on every single question. Still have no idea what that was about.

Freshman year spring semester: I decided to check up on someone’s hetalia blog who I followed during high school and found out we were going to the same college. We then became friends asljfdafa

Freshman year spring semester: My roommate one day fainted in the bathroom and the on-campus medical place was closed so I decided that we should go to the hospital. Turns out she had brain bleeding so thank god we went. What stands out about this day however is that it was 0º outside without wind-chill, and when I was running back and forth from our dorm to the hospital I saw sorority girls outside in mini-skirts fucking chanting. 0º degrees!!! Also, my roommate ended up being okay haha

Freshman year summer: I will still never forgive my co-worker Steve at my summer job. I was working outside and then walked into the cafeteria and the bastard was playing “it’s a small world” over the radio and humming along. Who the fuck does that and is not a psychopath???

Sophomore year fall semester: Someone decided to check up on my hetalia blog after I was complaining about my Chinese homework and they found out we went to the same college. We then became friends too asldfkaf; Thanks hetalia

Sophomore year fall semester: So my freshman roommate, after the hospital incident, decided not to return back to my university in the fall, so I got assigned a random roommate. Well, multiple. The first one dropped out before the semester even started, the second one was my roommate for 3 days and then just left abruptly and left me her fridge, and then the third one showed up near the end of Fall semester. She was also never really in the room ever. Also the dorm was worse than my freshman one and faced a dumpster so fuck that place.

Sophomore year spring semester: This was now my fourth class with my German professor. We were getting closer. I somehow let it slip once I was writing/editing a story (AWH and DFU *coughs*). She gets excited and tells me I should show it to her. I do briefly, thinking this will be the last of this. (Spoiler: wait)

Sophomore year spring semester: I get an F in a class

Sophomore year summer: I do an immersion program in Beijing to better my Chinese where I was doing like 10 hours of work every day and Oh Boy™ where do I start:

I was in a class with two other people. We had three rotating professors and one one-on-one professor. We got one of the professors fired. 两个周老师 I’m sorry but you sucked

Also the professor we got fired, he was our speaking class’s professor, which all of us sucked at the most so that didn’t help. The class was intended to give us practical vocab, but because we were all beginners in Chinese it was really hard to remember words. To combat this we would chant some words as if we were in a cult. 护发素（hùfàsù）and沐浴液 (Mùyù yè) shampoo and shower gel, we would chant often because it was all fourth tones. The professor picked up on this, and when my one classmate saw him for the last time, the professor looked at him from across the hall as he was packing up to leave, and said in a solemn voice to him “Mùyùyè.” Brain stumbled back to class in pure confusion.

Moving on, well you see, I’m a hetalia bitch. Turns out, there was going to be a hetalia only con in Shanghai while I was in China! Naturally, I decided I had to go. However, there were many obstacles I had to accomplish to get there, and at any given point anything could go horribly wrong.

First, I had to purchase the tickets for the actual event and to do such I had to enlist the help of one professor. Yeah, that was embarrassing. Also, there was a problem with the tickets, so she typed up a response that I was supposed to show to the con organizers when I got to the event.

Then, I had to purchase my train ticket. Thankfully, there was a place on campus at Peking University, so I found my way over there. I somehow managed to order both a going-out and return ticket without any English, and the high I felt after I left the store was unreal.

Two weeks later, it was time to go. After classes ended on Friday, I took my suitcase I brought with me and headed to the subway to navigate it by myself for the first time.

First, another important detail. I had no cell service. I was dumb and never got a cellphone plan, so I had no cell service at all until I got to my hotel room in Shanghai after a long subway ride/like 4+ hour train ride. Honestly, I forget it might have been longer.

After jamming myself into the subway for like an hour, I get to the train station, and I’m completely lost and have no idea where to go. By some miracle, I finally figure out I have to go upstairs and find my train and get on the stupid train

On the train, I sit next to some businesswoman. A stewardess comes by and I try to ask in Chinese if I need to show her my passport. She shakes her head. The businesswoman then compliments my Chinese and I try to sputter out a sentence to her. She then smiles and proceeds to speak perfect English.

Finally, late at night, I arrive in Shanghai. Still no wifi or cell service, mind you. I have to wait like an hour for a cab while illegal taxi drivers tried to prey on me, the only foreigner, to go with them

At like 1am I get to my hotel room. After connecting to the wifi, ready to settle down, my phone starts freaking out. My roommates living with me in China, my Chinese professor I was living with, and my parents were all wondering where the fuck I was and if I was okay. I had to reassure all of them. Turns out, I find out months later, my mom was having a nervous breakdown that I was dead. My dad had to call the fucking train company and keep asking and asking until he found someone who spoke English so they could tell him the status of my train. ^^;

Anyway, now it’s Saturday! And now I have to get to the hetalia con. I have the address and some pictures and the typed up note from my professor. First, the cab driver proceeds to drop me off at the wrong location. I wandered around like a lost idiot, wondering if I would ever make it, when I spotted two girls about my age. I followed them and by some miracle, they were going to the hetalia con too

By this point, I am drenched in sweat. It was 100º. I get into the building and see a bunch of girls my age all dressed up in cosplay. I had to awkwardly walk up to one of the event organizers who was dressed up as England and attempt to speak to her. I was the only white foreigner there, and naturally, some people were looking at me strangely, which I understand. After I showed her the note from my professor, though, the very nice girl lightly touched my back and handed me a ticket to get inside. I still kind of have a crush on her

Okay, finally, I’m inside. And there’s rochu merch everywhere. You bet your ass I buy a fuck ton of rochu merch. I am great at pointing at things I want and forking over money. People are still looking at me strangely.

I leave feeling victorious. A year later, when I join a Chinese tumblr-esque website called LOFTER, I post a selfie of myself with my finished hetalia fanfic series. I then have people proceed to tell me they RECOGNIZED ME from the hetalia con in Shanghai

I then managed to get back to Beijing on Sunday without dying. I had to wait like 2 hours for a cab

Hetalia haunted me throughout this study abroad like at a party one dude asked if I liked hetalia because aph America was on my phone case, and like dude, I was trying to seem like a normal person there, fuck you

Junior year fall semester: Probably one of my hardest semesters for the sheer amount of essays I had to write every weekend. My computer also decided to break during finals. It also broke during finals spring semester freshman year and fall semester sophomore year. I wish I was joking

Junior year spring semester: I decided to study abroad in South Korea. Things to note:

I had this one class about Korean history. I barely paid attention in this class; mostly I used it to do the readings for the class so I wouldn’t have to do it at home or edit my hetalia fics. Sometimes, the professor would write things down on the board, though, so whenever he did that, I would quickly jot the information down. Fast-forward, one day, the professor asks a question that I know he wrote down on the board last class. I have the information! Since no one else is raising their hand, I decide to do it and answer the question. He then nods and says, “Very good. Did anyone else know that answer?” He was met with silence. “No one? Only her?” Silence. He then proceeds to yell at the rest of the class for five straight minutes while I sat there like o_o. Once he calmed down he asked me to repeat my answer, told me “I’m glad you were being diligent,” and then went back to teaching. The following classes he would smile at me while I would sit there and wonder what dumb fucking luck led me to getting on his good side.

My professor for my Korean government class asked to talk with me after class about my paper and she bought me a “vanilla cookie bubble tea” and that thing was fucking God-like. I treated myself to it all the weeks following asdkfjlafa

The first week I came to Seoul there were no classes. I had no idea what to do with myself. My host mom offhandedly mentioned the first day I moved in that there was a mountain nearby that you could climb. I then proceeded to climb that mountain the following day, completely not expecting to climb it. I just found some like 60 year-old-Korean tourists and followed them and suddenly I was literally like scaling a mountain in a dress.

A Korean guy who I constantly had to friend-zone took me to the North Korea border one time for a day trip, and I was utterly baffled by the theme park that was there. My mom also freaked out about me supposedly going to North Korea and randomly texted me at one point asking where i was. I had to awkwardly inform her that I was in class.

I learned no Korean in Korea and was petrified at going to restaurants by myself. One day, though, I finally gathered up the courage and used my shitty ability to read the alphabet to order bulgogi. It took me repeating myself 3 times but finally, the waiter understood what I wanted and a rush of euphoria surged through me in that moment

Senior year fall semester: I was somehow coerced into showing my German professor my hetalia fanfic again, and she then actually read WDWW and is working on showing it to a German film director she knows ^^;;;

Senior year spring semester: I got an internship that led to me finally seeing the inside of the Japanese Ambassador’s residence I walked by every day, so that was really cool! I then proceeded to have a conversation with a lovely older Chinese man, who interviewed me the day prior (and didn’t give me the internship T__T) about my hetalia fanfic, because he wanted a fiction writing sample from me and that’s what I had so I sent it, and it was just really odd.

Said internship also caused me to be on a float in a parade which was exhausting

I also saw the Fruist Basket premier in theaters, which is a goddamn highlight

And despite the F I got sophomore year I’m now graduating with honors :-)

#miscellaneous #that was fun to type. though i feel like 50% of this is me just recounting what happend during my study abroad in china but adslfkafl #havent written anything in a while ahh #especially diary based stuff. not counting my dumb text posts #fun fact i kept a diary for every single day in 8th grade and it haunts me #tumblr this better stay under the read more

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brutcllysoft · 3 years ago

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post-release party ft. @becamedcath

setting: andy’s apartment, july 2020

ROWAN

Rowan can’t help but feel like she’s entered into some kind of manic episode. After her dramatic exit from the party, she’d asked her driver to drop her off back at her apartment. Once inside she kicked her heels off and practically beelined for her shower in an attempt to scrub the night off of her. In all honesty, she’s not sure how long she stays in there -- only getting out when the mixture of the cooled down water and Scout whining outside of the bathroom coax her into it. She checks her phone to see a plethora of texts and missed calls from Tyson and Reina, guilt settling in that she’d managed to worry her mother by disappearing again and she finds the energy to call her. It lasts less than thirty seconds, just long enough for her to apologize and assure Reina that she is home, safe and sound and that she doesn’t need her to come over. She doesn’t bother replying to Tyson, unsure of what she would even say to him and uninterested in entertaining the fight that it is sure to start. Instead, she turns her phone off and spends the next few hours curled up on her couch with Scout lounging in her lap. The letter Andy gave her is sitting on the coffee table practically begging her to read it and eventually -- she does. It’s embarrassing how her hands shake as she rips the creased envelope open and unfolds the paper, trying to brace herself for the worst case scenario though she finds it difficult to pinpoint one worst case. She’s already imagined so many different things that could be in the letter, she hardly knows where to start.

She reads it four times just to make sure she’s read it all correctly. Out of all the different letters she’d written in her own mind over the last half a year, none of them had been like this. She doesn’t know how she is supposed to react to this. She’d spent all this time preparing for some sort of pity note where he owned up to being a piece of shit before ultimately apologizing for using her all that time -- for indulging in the fact that she was just there and clearly head over heels for him and that made her an easy target for a warm body to lay beside when he felt he needed it. She’d been prepared for that. Had practically planned out her next spiral for it -- she’d lock herself away in her house in the mountains for a few days, burn the thing in the fire pit out back and then come back to Nashville and put on a happy face and go back to life as normal. What she wasn’t prepared for, though, was something this genuine -- an apology and a declaration of love where he talks about wanting to do better, wanting to be better, to do things right. She has no idea how to react to that.

It doesn’t occur to her that she doesn’t have his phone number anymore until her phone is powered back on, and so she does the next best thing and calls Chris who, despite all of his charm, can’t figure out how to open his contact list without hanging up the phone. Instead he rattles off an address for her, and she figures that’s as good as she’s going to get and before she has a chance to talk herself out of it, she’s climbing into her rarely driven car and following the directions from the navigation system. Her heart feels like it’s in her throat the whole way, and she has no idea what she’s going to say when she gets there, or if he’ll even be home at all. By now it’s after three in the morning -- Rowan has seen Andy party far later into the night on too many occasions to count, but considering his recent dip into sobriety, she has no idea if he would have stayed out so late. Besides, she’s banging on his door before she has time to fully contemplate what all of this means. She’s only vaguely aware of how insane she must look to his neighbors right now -- hair still damp from her shower, clad in her pajamas and banging on his door in the middle of the night. She’s lucky no one has called the cops. When he answers, Rowan barely gives him a chance to fully open the door before she’s holding the letter up. “Did you mean this?” Obviously he’d told her earlier in the night that it had been genuine, but she can’t help but ask again, her insecurities are so deeply rooted inside of her that if she doesn’t ask now, she’s never going to be able to let it go.

ANDY

He’s left winded after his backstage conversation with Rowan. Andy can hardly get a deep breath in while he does his due diligence, saying hello to a few people, thanking others — He barely remembers a conversation with Greg Sullivan as thoughts of Rowan flow through on a steady rotation, and the smell of whiskey fills his nose. Hellos and goodbyes come as quickly — The party goes on without him now that he’s off stage, and within two hours he’s telling Chris he’s going to head home. His manager, thankfully, doesn’t question it. Sobriety alone has been enough of a struggle, anyone can pick up on the way Andy’s eyed the open bar before taking a shaky breath each time he passes by — So there aren't many questions when he slips out the back exit. Home is a sanctuary, a sensation he’s not used to. His old house was closer to a venue than a home, serving as the place for the after party rather than somewhere to retreat to. His new place — A spacious, industrial style loft in a quiet neighborhood — is the only place he wants to be, wrapped in the comfort of his bed. So, he does just that. After a shower to wash away the sweat and the smell of smoke and booze and faint hint of Rowan’s perfume, the night catches up with him. He does his best to push thoughts of the party from his mind, to let himself focus on all the good things going on in his life. Between each thing he lists is her name, the look on her face, the thought of Rowan hanging off her boyfriend’s arm.

It’s not often that exhaustion takes him easily, though when it does, he eventually ends up in a half awake daze, tossing and turning. Tonight is no different, sleepy thoughts of Rowan find him — Dreams of all the times he’s left her sleeping alone, all the things he wished he had said, his own made up scenarios of her reading the letter or tossing it out without a second thought. He’s pulled back to reality by the sound of someone banging on his door, stirring him awake. Bleary eyes glance at his phone to see 3:23 AM. Reluctantly, he pulls himself from bed — Noodles hissing at him before running away, annoyed to have his 16 hours of sleep disturbed. His hands rub the sleep from his eyes as he makes his way to the front door, hair sticking up everywhere, multiple yawns passing his lips. He’s half expecting to find Sid hammered and leaning against the doorway, mumbling to himself about music industry conspiracies. Instead, he’s met with Rowan standing on his doorstep, making demands with the letter in her hands. Had he not been so taken aback, he’d be happy to see that she’s read it. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, his brain to focus on the fact that he isnt hallucinating. Instead of stating the obvious— What are you doing here? How did you get my address? Since when do you drive? — Andy answers her. “Every word.” He answers softly, not letting himself look away. He opens the door fully, stepping out of the way. “My neighbors are old and nosy.” Andy states simply, before adding: “If you’re gonna yell at me again, might as well do it inside.” He’s trying to ignore the knots in his stomach, his heart slamming against his chest. There’s no liquid courage in this, no boost from a line — Only the two of them, alone, in the middle of the night. This is what he wanted, isn’t it? Maybe not this setting — But to get this moment of closure, to try and give her some kind of peace of mind, somehow convey the truth to her. After the album release party, Andy’s not sure what to do next when it comes to Rowan Fisher.

ROWAN

Her heart has been beating so fast and loud in her ears that Rowan’s sure she can’t focus on anything else -- until Andy is in front of her and then it seems to quiet down instantaneously. Between the messy mop on top of his head and the way he has to blink several times before his eyes really focus on her, it’s very clear that she has woken him up. There’s a vague feeling of guilt that comes with the realization and she can’t feel like she’s crashing his party for the second time tonight -- she’d already ruined his evening causing a scene at what should be the happiest night of his year, and now she can’t even let him get a good night’s sleep. But there had been no chance that this could wait until the morning. She’d read the letter and it had only left her with a head full of confusing thoughts and a chest full of confusing feelings and an overwhelming desire to just be close to him and try and figure this out. Even if figuring it out means that they talk it through and never see each other outside of label events again and they find some sort of closure. It leaves a sinking feeling in her stomach and it’s become glaringly obvious over the last few days just how not over him she really is, despite what she has claimed for the better part of the last year. However, she doesn’t have long to dwell on that before Andy’s moving to let her in.

It feels weird to be inside Andy’s home right now. Of course she’d been in his old apartment more times than she can count, and she’d seen his bedroom at Christopher’s house, but this is different --- it’s nicer. Cleaner. Feels more like a home rather than just somewhere to sleep off hangovers before going for round two when he managed to roll out of bed. “I’m not here to yell at you,” she frowns, that guilt from earlier making a reappearance. “I’m sorry about that -- I shouldn’t have…” but the apology dies on her tongue before she can even really get it out. She doesn’t know what she’s apologizing for, really. Instead she redirects, the letter clutched between both her hands tightly as if it’s going to disappear if she lets it go and she’ll be left here looking like an idiot. “I didn’t read it when you sent it because I didn’t know what it was gonna say and I didn’t want to get my heart broken all over again. I still don’t.” It’s hard to picture this going any way other than an inevitable heartbreak, though, and the urge to turn on her heel and run out again begins to bubble in the pit of her stomach. “I love you, Andy, but I can’t -- I can’t do this again if I’m gonna keep being your second choice. It’s not fair to me.” The words are out before she’s had a chance to think about the repercussions of them, but it’s too late to take them back now.

ANDY

He’s convinced this is all one fucked up dream — One that started at the party and is continuing now, with Rowan now standing in his front room. Andy hasn’t seen Rowan in over six months, and now, twice in one night. There’s something exciting about having her here, a part of him wanting to show her that he’s actually making progress. A hand rubs at the back of his neck, the fact that he’d only just woke up being the only thing keeping him from freaking out over the fact that she is here. “You don’t have to apologize.” Andy speaks softly, pushing his hair off his forehead. “If it didn’t happen then, it would’a happened somewhere else.” It’s the truth — any reunion between them was bound to mirror earlier that night, despite any hopes he had. The thought doesn’t last long, once his eyes drift back to the letter in her hands. Andy had imagined this conversation a thousand times over, but it never included Rowan showing up at his door in the middle of the night. He stays quiet as she speaks, trying to ignore the way his heart skips at the words — “You love me?” Three words slip past his lips before he can stop himself, having assumed the only feeling she held for him being something between hate and resentment. He can practically hear his therapist’s voice now, telling him this is what he’d been hoping for. There was no point in trying to say anything to her at the party, but now — Maybe they’ll have a chance for closure, a honest conversation, something that’ll help even if he never sees her again. “No, it’s not.” He agrees, a frown of his own at his lips. “I told you, you’re the only thing that ever mattered to me. I just — I did a real shit job showing it.” It’s an oversimplified version of their history, but the feeling of his heart slamming against his chest isn’t making it easy to get the words out.

“I meant it. Every word of it.” He nods to the letter in her hands, feeling exposed but forcing himself to keep going. “I love you. I let myself get in the way of it. I can’t undo any of it, but — Fuck, man.” He pauses, guilt over the last few years threatening to drown him. “I’m sorry. I know it probably doesn’t mean much to you now, but I am.” This is all foreign territory, easier written down on notebook paper instead of said face to face. “I don’t know what to uh, do from here — But I wanted to make sure you at least knew that.”

ROWAN

Rowan doesn’t acknowledge when he tells her she doesn’t have to apologize. She knows that she doesn’t -- her thoughts and feelings are justified after years of the games they’ve played with each other, but she still can’t help but feel bad that she’d chosen tonight of all nights to bring it all to the surface. It’s supposed to be a celebration for him and she hadn’t gone there with plans of starting something -- though she can’t deny a selfish, vindictive part of her had brought Tyson for no reason other than to try and prove she had moved on -- but it had all been so overwhelming she hadn’t been able to stop herself. The surprise in Andy’s voice has her stopping in her tracks, brows furrowing at his question. You love me? Her head tilts with confusion because she has no idea how he couldn’t have known. It only occurs to her then that she’s never actually told him before. “I -- Yeah. Of course I do. I thought you knew.” It had seemed so obvious to her all of those years, why else would she have kept coming back time after time? Why else would she have tried so hard? When Andy tells her he loves her too she doesn’t quite know how to react to it. She feels like she’s spent so many years wanting to hear him say these things to her, and now that he finally is… she can’t help but be on guard about it all. So she simply nods, her lips pursing together momentarily. “I thought you hated me.” The admission comes out quieter than she would like it to, having envisioned this conversation as something far more volatile in her head a million times but they seem to have moved past that phase and into something softer, something more vulnerable. “That was the only way I could make any of the last few years make sense. That I was just… Convenient.” Her stomach twists uncomfortably as she speaks, knowing that it may not be what Andy wants to hear but it’s what she needs to say.

#v: nashville.#nash: andy.

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fuzzballsheltiepants · 7 years ago

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How a Horse Ruined My Liver

An incredible true story!

The Players: Me My best friend Amanda, sitting with her horse below My perfect pony Mocha. Age: 23. Size: 13.3 hands (135 cm, or 4′7″), about 700 lb, the little spotted guy in the background here Amanda’s off the track Thoroughbred, Regal. Age: 13. Size: 17 hands (172 cm, 5′8″) about 1300 lb, the horse laying down

The Scene: A trail in the middle of the woods that runs along a reservoir in scenic Stafford, Connecticut.

Regal had been out of work for a while due to an injury. One sunny morning in late June, Amanda and I decide that it’s time to get him back out on the trail. Amanda has some anxiety, and I’m the more experienced rider, so we swap horses for this particular ride. This was not unusual, and I know Regal almost as well as I know my own horses.

The horses are having a wonderful time as we ride first about a mile down the road to the beginning of the trail, then along the trail itself. The footing is good, the horses are trotting along well, everything is glorious. We come to the place where the trail began to run along the reservoir, which is to our left and very low despite rain we had gotten a few days earlier. There is a large pond to the right of the trail, which has two shallow (3-4” deep, about 3 feet wide) ditches dug across to allow any overflow from the pond to end up in the reservoir.

So, the thing about Regal is, he’s a lovely, athletic sweet horse, but he has about 3 brain cells and they argue. Frequently. So when he comes to the first drainage ditch - that he could step over easily - he freezes, convinced that there were crocodiles hiding within. Now, remember, horses have poor depth perception, but can see about 300 degrees around them. This means Regal can see the possibly-shark-filled pond to his right, and the possibly-crocodile-filled ditch in front of him, but can’t see the very low reservoir to his left because the water is about 7-8 feet below the grade of the trail. It just looks like safe space to him. So he plants his front feet at the ditch, and swivels his butt towards the drop so he can keep his eye on the water.

At this point I realize that this ginormous horse is about 6” from a sizable drop into water of unknown depth, and I ask him to move his butt over. He says no. I ask again, and he flips me the hoof, convinced I’m trying to get him murdered by water-dwelling predators.

At Amanda’s request Mocha, my sensible man, walks calmly through the ditch to prove that there were no crocodiles. Regal doesn’t believe him. Mocha walks back through the ditch. Regal still doesn’t believe him. Mocha walks through a third time, and Amanda rides perhaps ten yards further down the trail, but Regal still will not follow, even though he follows Mocha everywhere.

Finally, I’m starting to get nervous, as he keeps tossing his head and inching backwards. I haul off and kick him as hard as I could, just needing him to move far enough over that I could jump off of him safely. He takes one step to the right, and I get ready to leap off, but before I can he swings his big butt back and his hind feet slip off the trail.

Now, if you ever want to know fear, ride a 1300 lb horse backwards off a sheer drop of unknown height. Thankfully, I’ve ridden so many crazy horses that the second his butt drops below his shoulder, I automatically throw myself up his neck and grab mane, looking straight up between his ears. I’m not sure at this point if he’s going to end up sliding all the way down and ending up on all fours in the reservoir, or if his back feet are going to hit bottom soon, or if he’s going to end up flipping over backwards (in which case, bye bye me). Finally, I feel his hind feet hit bottom.

Amanda, up on the trail, can only see Regal’s muzzle, his front toes clinging desperately to the trail, and the top of my helmet. Regal is nearly vertical, and let me remind you, he’s a seriously enormous horse. I sit there on him for a second, trying to figure out what to do next when almost any movement on my part will almost certainly cause him to fall over backwards and kill us both. Then I felt him gather his haunches as much as he could without losing his grip on the trail, and launch us both upwards.

He ended up sprawled on his belly on the trail, me still sitting on him, his hind legs dangling off the drop. Before I can get off, he pulls his right hind leg up onto the trail and uses it to launch us forward, where we end up - you guessed it - in the pond on the other side.

So now, I’m on a down horse in a couple feet of water and mud, and because his three brain cells are now in full-on panic mode, he can’t figure out to lift his head out of the water and he starts to drown. I get off of him, get my feet stuck in the mud, and fall on my ass, while he starts thrashing, trying to get his head above water. He succeeds, and ends up swimming out into the pond, but not before he kicked me half a dozen times while I was sitting in the water, unable to get out of the way.

I struggle my way out of the pond, and Amanda calls for Regal a couple of times before he turns around and swims back and we get him out of the pond. At this point, the doctor part of my brain kicks in and I assess myself and the horse. He’s holding up his left hind leg, which has a huge deep scrape down the inside of the knee (stifle) joint, but the far more serious issue is he has torn the skin of his left front cannon bone and peeled it down towards his foot. It’s called a degloving injury, because it looks like the skin is a glove being removed.

I have been kicked in the thigh, but though it hurts quite a bit the bone isn’t broken. My helmet was shattered from when he kicked me in the head (message: always wear a helmet, kids). But the thing I’m really concerned about is that my radius - the thicker and shorter of the two bones in my forearm - is jutting about half an inch out from where it should be. The skin isn’t damaged, thankfully, but I can’t move or feel my left hand.

In my best possible “I’m a doctor and know what I’m talking about” voice I tell Amanda, who is about to go into hysterics over Regal’s leg, to get back on Mocha and ride home as fast as she can and have the barn owners get the trailer hooked as I’m not sure how far Regal can walk and I think my arm is broken. She takes off, and I begin the long, slow process of getting Regal the mile or so to the road.

Now, I can’t drive myself to the hospital and don’t want an ambulance, and my husband is 2 hours away, so I sit at the barn and wait until the vet gets there and assesses Regal. He takes one look at me and ordered me to get someone to drive me, which is how about an hour or so later I’m getting my arm assessed at the emergency room.

My elbow is basically fixed in a flexed position and I can’t rotate my wrist or hand, so they order x-rays of that plus my shoulder, which it turns out had two massive bruises over the collar bone and the upper arm where I had also been kicked and hadn’t realized it. The very nice young radiology technician is trying to get my arm in the right position, but I can’t rotate my hand the way he wants it, so he grabs my wrist to help me. One loud click later, suddenly I can feel my hand and lo and behold, my elbow straightens. I meet the poor young man’s terrified eyes as he realizes he just reduced my dislocated elbow by mistake, he excuses himself, and runs down the hallway, presumably to either vomit or tell a doctor, or both. I really wish I was around when he told his family that story that night.

The final tally of my injuries is: I tore the labrum and shredded the joint capsule in my shoulder, and crushed the ulnar nerve in the same arm. After several months of unsuccessful physical therapy, I have the shoulder repaired. That goes well, and I rehab fine, but my left hand is still numb a lot of the time. So, since I need feeling in that hand in order to do my job well, I have another surgery to have my ulnar nerved moved out from under the scar tissue from the dislocation, so it now runs along the inside of my forearm.

Now, given the title of this, you’re probably wondering how any of this has anything to do with my liver. Well, about a month after my elbow surgery, I start having profound fatigue and joint pain and swelling. I go to the doctor, thinking I have Lyme or something, and she runs a bunch of blood tests. My liver values are off the charts. One value in particular, the ALT, is nearly twenty times the normal value. So they run more tests, try some treatment, keep running tests. It keeps being elevated, anywhere from 10 to 20 times normal. Finally, I have my liver biopsied, and I have a very rare form of autoimmune disease. The most common trigger? Inhalant anesthesia, which I had now had twice to repair the damage done in that 30 second catastrophe.

So that is how a horse ruined my liver.

#true story #accident #injuries #horses #my life

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all-sortsa-stuff · 7 years ago

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This life, part 7

Pairing: Loki and Reader

Word Count: 5180 (I couldn’t stop)

Warning: This chapter is darker than all the others. Language, violence, nonconsensual touching, threats of rape.

Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

It was difficult to measure how much time had passed since you had been in this confinement. There we no windows or natural light in this room… cell… whatever it may be. Meals were brought infrequently so that was of no assistance. The collar around your neck had rendered your abilities of no use. Your body was growing weak with thirst and hunger. By now, you knew your friends would be searching for you but the way time was drawing on it felt as though you were slipping from their grasp. How would they find you with no information on who had taken you? The uniforms were unfamiliar and none had spoken to you since you awoke here.

You had searched the entire room for any sign of weakness but the stone of the floors and walls were solid. The door to the cell was rudimentary with metal bars that were unbendable. Trying for hours that first day had proven that. Just as you found out that when you touched the collars to remove it would send a painful jolt throughout your body. After trying for an hour and passing out from the pain you decided it wise not to continue further.

The only thing you were able to do now was stare at the ceiling in between naps on the cold floor. You did not bother moving now when one of them would bring your food plate. It had been ten meals since you stop trying to get information from whomever brought it that time. They seemed to be on rotations as it was never the same person who brought them twice in a row. Every fourth meal the rotation would start again in the same order. Therefore, there was some organization to it all. You could hear the boot steps coming again. Heavy on the stone, so that it echoed for nearly one minute before approaching the door.

Not moving from your position on the ground, you continued your silence and stare. “Get up.”

The sound of a voice was almost startling. You had not expected it. Neither were you expecting the different face of the man who stood in the doorway of the cell. He had not been here before that you could recall that but the voice was one you heard the night you were taken. The man commanded the others to hold you while he placed the collar. “I said up now! If wish another shock from that thing, keep lying there.”

Wanting to avoid that pain again, you stood slowly, having to use the wall to brace yourself. He laughed low, as though he was enjoying your suffering. Once you stood fully you found how stiff and sore your body truly was. Not using parts and muscles that were normally so active was wearing on your system, as was the lack of proper sustenance. “Walk to the door. You get to meet your new Lord tonight.”

That did not sound like an offer you wanted to take, but at this moment you needed out of the cell to see what you could make of this place. You did not fight or speak a word. There would be no begging from your lips this day or any other. His hand gripped your upper arm forcefully, enough that would show bruising in time, dragging you down the many corridors. There were so many doors to other cells. Most were empty save for a few men that you could see.

Ascending stairs brought you and your captor out of the prisons, which must have been well below ground for the temperature, was much warmer here at the surface. The light of the sun hurt your eyes forcing them shut as he continued pulling you towards the destination. Several minutes passed before you were able to see clearly once more. During that time, it was impossible to tell how many turns and doors you had gone through. The man never slowed his pace, or faltered in his duty to present you to this “Lord”.

From what you could see, this structure was well built but much smaller than the palace of Asgard. The hallways more narrow, less opulence, set up for easy fortification. That would make it difficult for an attack, or a rescue…

He stopped abruptly in front of set of doors guarded by two large men with glaives. They bowed their heads to the man, opening the doors to a small feasting hall. There were a few men scattered about eating and drinking with serving girls scurrying to bring what was required. Towards the back of the hall, there was a dark wooden throne on a dais. Sat upon that throne was a rather large man with dark hair, he gazed over those before him with a drink in hand. With the opening of the doors, he looked in your direction. You could see the sneer from where you stood. He beckoned the pair of you closer. Of course the man with the grip of death on your arm complied dragged you with him towards the throne.

The stale air of the hall reeked of sour ale and sweat. This place was not the palace of Asgard. “Finally our lovely visitor is ready to meet her new master.”

“I am no visitor nor are you my master of any sorts. I am [Y/N] of Asgard. As I will always be.” The grip on your arm tightened but the man on the throne laughed.

“The fire that burns within her eyes, it is quite captivating. I know who you are. Your name is known throughout many realms. It was better luck of ours that you appeared, giving yourself to save a girl. So valiant… but that is to be expected of a warrior of your skill.” The dull brown of his eyes looked as mud and the pink of the deep scar across his cheek was still healing. He was a warrior or portrayed himself as one.

As much as you wanted to speak and spew the most vile things, the better part of your mind took over to encourage you to keep your silence. The man studied you further, causing a sensation of something unclean to wash over you. “You are worth far more than these dirty maids. By far the finest of any we have acquired. Come sit with your Lord, so that you learn who you will serve.”

You were thrown forward landing at his feet. The skin of your palms scraping on the stone. Turning your head to look at the one who had held you, the contempt could not be hidden. Before your mind had thought anything through your body reacted with your leg flying up and kicking the man in the gut sending him crashing back onto the closest table, disturbing all who sat there. The “Lord” laughed loudly clapping his hands at the entertainment before him. The other jumped up coming at you in a rage but was stopped by a booming voice. “Stop! You will not touch her again unless I command it. Do you understand me?”

He had to breathe deeply to keep himself from taking another step towards you. There was a promise of revenge deep in his dark eyes. “Yes my Lord.” The stomping of his boots echoed in the halls as he returned to the prison below.

“That was quite entertaining my beautiful, [Y/N]. I am pleased they brought you to me alive. You will make the days here far more interesting.” Moving so you could sit, you twisted to look away from him and give a better view of the room. Perhaps there would be a way to escape this dreadful place if you could find a weakness. “You look as though you could use water and a bit of food.”

Hearing the word water nearly made your mind forget everything else. It had been well over a day without a drop and now your body was not going to let you think of anything else until your thirst and dehydration were alleviated. He motioned for one of the maids to come close with a half a loaf of brown bread and a mug of some liquid you could not see. You wanted with all of your lifeblood to take it and devour all that you were presented with. However, the cautious warrior part of your brain knew better. Poison or tainted with a tonic were the first of the ideas that came to mind. “Always on alert Lady [Y/N]? Astute of you, but there is nothing of harm in the food or drink.”

He took a swig of the drink and a large bite of the bread before the girl sat the tray before you. Without a word, you had the stein in hand drinking long. It was cold, clean water and it tasted better than any ale you had ever had. However, it was more than likely the dehydration speaking. The water was finished quickly before you moved onto the bread. It was harder than you were used to in the palace, but it would do. As you ate he started to talk to you as though you would be one of the maids here hanging on all of his words.

He called himself Lord Tholf and had ruled over this part of the realm for nearly ten years now after defeating a warlord who had terrorized the area for many years. There had been no warlords on Asgard since Odin had become king. None for any length of time at least. By the Gods… You were no longer on Asgard. They had taken you to one of the other realms. Now you had to mind the words he spoke so that you could discover where you were and determine if there was a way to escape.

The man prattled on for nearly an hour while you pretended not to listen. You had had your fill of water and bread and were actually starting to feel far better than you had since you had woken up in this place. The men in the hall had slowly dispersed over the time you had been there and the sun started to set. Lord Tholf stood from his throne grabbing your already bruised arm to pull you with him. “You will come with me to my chambers tonight. You will wash off the filth and you will rest. Tomorrow begins with new plans and you my lovely will be a part of them.”

Many thoughts flashed through your mind as he pulled you down the corridors. Guards and men passed all stopping to bow before Tholf. Their armor had familiar markings on it but it was difficult to remember from where. It was not recent; perhaps it was learnings as a child. Several more minutes passed with fewer guards seen. You must be closer to his chambers, where he would want his privacy. Just as you passed into a set of great doors, you look beside you out of one of the clear-glassed windows and saw the ruins of a tower within a castle. That structure, the architecture, was developed and used in only one of the realms. You had been brought to Vanaheim.

On Asgard, in the eight days since you had been taken, the whole palace was on alert. The king had been meeting and planning with Thor and Loki to find you. Loki had barely slept during that time and it was going to cause him to go completely mad if you were not found soon. Heimdall could not see you anywhere and he had been trying every moment since you disappeared from his sight. This led everyone to the conclusion wherever you were; the location was concealed with a great deal of magic. It was going to take much time and energy to find where you were being held if they did not receive any assistance soon.

Loki had been gone several hours before Thor caught up to him in the field that was often your refuge. He stood upon the hill watching the moonlight shine over the nearby river. “Does she still come here to ease her mind?”

Thor stood a pace behind him; Loki had not turned to look at him. “Yes, she does. More often in the last years when she needed to hide from Father.”

“I told her here when we were children, that I would protect her all my days. No harm would ever come to her, even after she would become Queen of Asgard. I would always keep her safe. I broke that oath more times now that I wish to count. Causing much of her pain myself, for nothing true. Now when I need to beg her forgiveness she has been taken. I would give my life a million times over if she were here safely. I will not survive it if she…”

Thor rested a hand on his shoulder stopping him from finishing his statement. “We will find her and bring her home. You will have your time to ask her forgiveness and to confess your heart. I swear to the Allfather, it will be done.”

Lord Tholf pushed you towards a separate room off his main chambers. “Go in there and wash thoroughly. There should be garments to change into as well.” You took the moment to peer around the room. The room was large and oddly shaped, with a heavy posted bed against the back wall. Tapestries were scattered over the walls. A great table covered with maps and scrolls with two chairs around it sat in the sunken flooring over in one corner. There were pillowed areas in another two corners of the room as though he would have guests to lay with there. You did not want to think about what he planned to do with you here. “I said go wash, or I will strip you myself and wash slowly every bit of your skin until you are clean enough for my tastes.” The statement was made in a low growl and you had no doubt he would follow through with the threat.

There was a large bathing vessel full of steaming water. Stripping the dirty and now tattered leather from your body was painful. Many still healing bruises protested as everything was removed. The water felt heavenly as you stepped in. Normally you would lay there until every one of your muscles relaxed but you had no desire for him to follow here if you were too long. There was a pot of what smelled of jasmine, set on the side of the vessel. You found it was soap and used a large amount to scour every part of you. It had been so long since you had last been clean and you were unsure of when it would be again.

Once clean you dried and found the garment, he spoke of. Though it was mere fabric rather than a garment. It was a light blue color and nearly see through. It was sleeveless and you assumed was supposed to be a sleeping frock as it went to your knees. But unlike a typical garment that covered this teased the darker color of your nipples and the hairless mons between your legs. “I will drag you out here if necessary.”

The voice called from the room. Your hands curled into fists at your side. There would be a fight if he laid a hand on you. He was in his bed leaning against the headboard as you walked slowly into the room. When he saw you, he stood from the bed completely bare with his heavy cock hanging against his thighs. You turned your head as you snapped your eyes closed to block out the image. “Oh you will want to see me soon enough.” He had come close enough that you could feel his heat radiating off his body. “You will break one day soon and I will have you screaming my name as I take you over and over. When I know you are well along with my child, I may make you the Lady of this castle and of my people. You will give me many strong sons, for there has been no other warrior female as you, I have found.” He had backed you against one of the walls, pressing tight against you.

You had never felt more revolted than you had right then. Still refusing you look at or acknowledge him, you tried to slide out of his grasp. He stopped you by grabbing your jaw with one hand and your breast with the other. “In time you will want me to take you. Accept it now, things will be far smoother for you.”

Shaking your head, you pulled against his hold, this time looking at him. “I do not want your vile hands on me. That will never change.” Tholf laughed as he backed up, you could not miss that his cock now stood hard against his belly.

“We will see. You will not be leaving this room tonight. Share my bed with me? No? Then find a place to lay your head.” He moved back towards his bed as you found a semi soft place in the pillows in one of the corners. As much as you wanted to completely block him out and turn your back on him you knew it unwise. Instead, you curled up facing him shutting your eyes. They stayed that way even when one of the servant maids had come to share his bed for the night. Her screams of passion kept you up well past the mid of night. Finally, in the quiet you were able to sleep some. Though your dreams disturbed you almost as much as your waking time now.

Many days followed similar to that day. You slept in his chambers and daily he would tell you how you would be his Lady soon enough, enjoying his touch. Your refusals at first made him laugh and he would continue with his ideas of eventually you would comply willingly. Tholf started to give you more freedoms within the castle in an effort for you to trust him. Given the freedom now to roam the halls under the watchful eyes of the guards. The collar remained about your neck, the ever-present bit that impeded your ability to escape. It was then a plan started to form. Allow him to believe you were slowly warming to the idea of belonging to him. Nothing overt at first that would arouse suspicion but little measures that would show them you were slowly breaking.

It started with doing as you were told without having to be threatened. You stood when commanded and answered when asked. It made you want to thrust your sword through his throat to do so but it was the best chance at it all working. Lord Tholf and his advisors noticed your attempt at civility with those you met. While they were all wary, it was seen in a positive light.

By the month mark, or what you thought was a month, your acting skills were much improved. You were able to feign a smile to most and were now treated by many as though you were supposed to be there. During the month, Tholf tried daily to coax you into his bed willingly, and every day you declined politely. After weeks of refusals, he finally demanded to know why. You had been given everything to make you happy but still you refused.

“I am still a prisoner here. Not even equal to the maids that serve you.” He looked confused and stepped close as his impatience showed.

“You eat the finest of foods, drink the best wines. The clothes you wear are far better than any other woman in this realm. You are treated as a queen… Tell me how you are still a prisoner.” Lifting your chin, you motioned to the collar that was still apart of you.

“No other here wears a collar. Not even those within the prison beneath out feet.” Taking a step back, he looked almost surprised. He had forgotten the collar, becoming so accustomed to seeing it on you, there was no thought of what it was really for. “Would you have your Lady wear a collar for the rest of her days? The woman you want to bear your sons…”

Tholf walked out of the room without a word, though he did not slammed the door as he often did when angered. A small, true smile appeared on your lips. Another victory won in your battle for freedom and eventually your escape. He did not return to his chambers at the usual time. It gave you the chance to lay in the dark in peace. Your thoughts wandered to Asgard. Were your friends still searching for you, or had they given up hope and deemed you another lost soul? Even though it had felt like an eternity, you know Thor would never stop searching for you until there was proof you were alive or dead. He was determined like his mother.

Frigga must be mad with worry now. She had always treated you as though you were her blood child. More so after your own mother had disowned you, leaving you to fend against powers you never knew of. You prayed to the Gods that one day soon you would sleep in your own bed after drinking every bit of Asgardian ale you could find. Falling asleep not long after you dreamt of better days long past.

Waking in the morning, you realized Tholf had never returned to his chambers. That did not sit well within your gut. For all you knew now, your plan had caused the opposite effect of what you wished. Dressing quickly, you made your way down to the feasting hall, he was not there either. You ate in silence as you watched everyone else move about the day. Not all here were foul beings. Many knew no better than the lives they had grown into. It was common and accepted to raid and pillage, taking spoils back to their homes.

Grand Warden Ogarl, the man who had taken you from Asgard, stomped through the doors of the feasting hall, making a quick line towards where you sat. “Lord Tholf wants you now, girl.”

“Yes, Grand Warden.” Standing from the table, you walked towards the door. He grabbed you roughly by the arm dragging you down the corridor. Tholf sat behind a large stone table, looking as though he had not slept the night. Ogarl threw you against the table causing you to fall. Tholf stood bellowing out to his inferior.

“Harm her again and I will removed your head. Do you understand me?” Murder filled his eyes and you had not a doubt he would do as he threatened. Ogarl bowed his remorse, though his face showed none of it.

“Yes, Lord Tholf.” With those words, he stormed out of the room almost knocking over one of the maids bringing in a tray of drink to Tholf. She shook in fear as she stepped in the doorway. Tholf helped you off the floor before beckoning her to come in.

“He will not touch you again, I swear it. Drink?” You nodded slowly, feigning fear of the other man. Had you your way you would have already separated Ogarl’s head from his body. The girl stood close while he took the glasses and wine from her. He swallowed one glassful before handing you the other glass. There was something off, about him. It was difficult to read, and you were unsure how to feel about it. “I will remove the collar.”

The words were said so quickly and when you were least expecting it. “My Lord?”

“I said I will remove the collar. You have had the time to prove you are learning to become of our tribe. I do not want a collared woman at my side. The woman at my side will be there willingly.” Your heart rate jumped dramatically, this was your opportunity. It had to be carefully planned and not rushed. He would give you this kindness, if you could avoid bloodshed you would. Tholf moved flush against you, raising a hand to graze aside your cheek. There was something different in his eyes now, another emotion, one you did not want to identify.

His large hands moved now around your neck holding both sides of the collar. “Take a breath now, it will hurt as it disengages.” As he twisted the clasps, a strong electric sensation surged through your body causing a gasp to escape your lips. Once the piece was free, the feeling vanished. It was as though you could breathe freely once more. Unable to stop yourself you smiled rubbing your neck and the sore marks that were left. He stepped back smiling in earnest at you. “My hope now is you find this place is your home.”

As you opened your mouth to speak a heat filled your body. A deep, searing heat that filled every fiber. It caused you to double over grabbing your abdomen. “Allfather no…” Tholf bent down beside you, as you could feel the energy building. Being bound for a month with no outlet for the energy, it needed its release. This was not what you wanted. Innocents would be hurt. “No, back away, now. You will be harmed. Go!”

You did not have the ability to contain it. The energy spread over your skin, lighting it as it traveled through you until it hit your fingertips. “Noooo!” Screaming out as the pulse of energy thrust out from you throwing everyone and thing back from around you. The shock wave traveled throughout the castle sending everyone airborne, doing more damage than you would ever know. The release of such energy had been too much for you, you fell to the floor unconscious.

Hours later, you woke from the pain in your head and shoulders. There was a ringing in your ears that felt as though it would make your ears bleed. “Finally she wakes. We will see how long it lasts while I have my chance at her.” That voice was not what you wished to hear. The hate seething from every syllable, made you aware of whatever was to follow would be painful.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself in the meeting chambers where you had fallen. Everything was destroyed and pushed back against the walls. You were strung up by your hands from the ceiling, which was the cause of the pain in your shoulders. Only the tips of you largest toes could touch the floor. Your shoulders were bearing your entire weight. The collar had been replaced and Ogarl stood before you with dried blood at his temple. Tholf stood steps behind him with a bloodied and bruised face of his own. Gone was the face of the concerned man that had been there before you blacked out.

A swift punch to your abdomen knocked the wind from you causing you gasp. Another then another followed it. His assault on your body continued for some time. There was no part he missed. Your face was swollen and bloodied, ribs bruised and broken. A whip had flayed the skin of your back after he has stripped you naked. Tholf stood watching every hit with his arms cross his chest. You prayed for death now. Prayed that the Gods would be merciful allowing them to take a blade and sink it deep within your chest, ending this misery.

The pool of blood that gathered beneath you caused the little hold your toes had to slip, putting further strain on your shoulders. Ogarl laughed at the strain and your sounds of pain. Coming up close behind you growling in your ear. “Now I will fuck every hole of yours. Mine will be the last face you see as I slit your throat as my cock tears you into pieces.” The sound of him removing his belt scared you to the core. You pulled and shook against the bindings.

Tholf stepped forward. “You will not. I will take what is mine from her and end it there. Leave me.” Ogarl looked as though he would refuse but thought better of it. Rebuckling his leggings, he stomped out of the room, leaving you broken and bloody with Tholf. The man paced around before you looking as though he was unsure of how to proceed.

“Did you intend for that to happen? To injure and kill so many of my people? I stand here because I am strong. The maid here was none so lucky.” It was one of your worst fears, killing an innocent. A tear slid down your cheek as you shook your head. “There are no lies in your eyes. I believe you. My people want your head for what you have done. Grand Warden would make true his threat. I would let you live if I had a choice. My feelings for you are strong but my people come first. They would lose faith as their leader if I allowed you to continue to breath. I will make it quick, you have endured enough pain.”

You nodded slowly accepting your fate, welcoming it. Pulling a blade from his hip, he stepped towards you. An explosion shook the castle from somewhere on the grounds. Screams could be heard from all directions. Tholf ran from the room towards the screams and his people, leaving you bleeding and naked, hanging from the ceiling. The screams and yells came closer; you just prayed someone would come to kill you before Ogarl returned. Never had you a fear like that before. “[Y/N]! By the Gods… what have they done to you?”

That voice… No please not that voice. Gods strike you down now; let him not see you as this. Let none of them see you as this. Lifting your head, opening your swollen eyes, Loki in his full armor stood before you. He searched around quickly finding a discarded cloak on the floor, wrapping you in it before he cut you down from the ceiling. The relief was felt instantly in your shoulders. “Loki… kill me. I beg you... Please.”

Loki’s heart shattered as you begged for death. The savages had stolen you and your light. “No, my heart I will not. We will travel home and I will help you heal in every way.” Lifting you in his arms, ensuring you were covered from all eyes, he brought you to Thor and your friends, who had cleaned out the castle with the aid of the Defenders. All those gathered fell silent as Loki approached with you in his arms. Thor was about to speak before Loki silenced him with a shake of his head. All the questions could be answered later. Now it was time for you to return to Asgard.

Part 8

tags: @feelmyroarrrr @bolontiku @aquabrie @malindacath @frenchfrostpudding @lokislonelylady @hollycornish @magpiemischief @myclock @xxxprettydeadgirlxxx @mariadoghorses @red-writer13 @magellan-88 @mirhem @deepnachodelusion

@melkor--dreams @ex-bookjunky @vagabondfairy @cheyowl @kindaace @whiskeyandwashitape @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @independentgirl

#this life #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fandom #marvel imagine #loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #reader x loki #loki odinson #loki odinson x reader #loki of asgard #loki fan #loki fanfiction #loki fic #loki fandom #loki friggason

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leahtate1228 · 6 years ago

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My First Admission

The date was January, 2007, I was in the seventh grade. I was on my way to my regular doctor appointment at Children’s Hospital Boston to check up on my Cystic Fibrosis, make sure all my medications were working and everything was under control. I take one standard breathing test every time I’m there which pretty much tests everything they need to know, plus a blood test. Although this time was different from all my rest.

My doctor had been out that day so I had to see someone else. After taking the test, the doctor came back in with the results; bad news coming. My test results had dropped a huge percent, and I needed to be admitted to the hospital as soon as possible for treatments.

That appointment was on a Monday and on that Thursday I was driving through the Thomas J O’Neill tunnel that opens up into Boston. With too many thoughts, feelings and emotions running through my head. I was contemplating the future, near and far, the possibilities versus the probabilities, the questions and answers I did not know I would be facing for the next four weeks. The scariest thought about this whole experience is that little did I know, when I turned around to walk through that rotating door leading into the Hospital, it would be the last time I would see a clear blue sky with no small window in between us in a long time.

With my parents on both sides of me I entered the door. Once inside, seeing all the jumbling colors all over the walls and the pictures, so many colors. I suppose the colors were supposed to distract us, or give us a happy feeling. But for me, the jumble of way too many colors were just like my thoughts, running crazy through my mind, not making any sense. As soon as that split second of walking through the door was over there was a rush of people and we knew right where to go. The ninth floor. {Once taking what felt like almost ten minutes to ride the elevator up there, it was a whole different world!}

All the walls were white; there was no color, no pictures, no smiles, no fun. Then, we proceeded to walk over to the nurse’s desk to check in.

My parents said “Leah please."

"Yes right this way we have a room for you." the nurse replied.

We followed the nurse to a room down the hallway. So we were walking into the room and he said the doctor would be with us soon. This room was all white walls with a door. no pictures, no color, no smiles once again, no fun. So after waiting about 15 minutes 3 red sox players came in to sign autographs for me! They do this for the sick children, it was a lot of fun! I suppose it was a distraction of what no one knew what pain was going to come to me next.

I knew I had to expect the doctor to come in of course, but what I did not expect was the team of nurses that pooled in behind him [at least 4]. So now there were eight people tucked into this tiny room with no windows and very thin air with me lying on the bed almost crying, scared of the future.

The doctor began explaining some things about the procedure he had to do and how I must be awake for this to go right. So, as I lay there still as a pond in the summer time, he began taking a pen to my arm, drawing little lines and circles around my veins then he taped hot packs to both of my inner elbows and left the room for 20 minutes. I had to leave the packs on so he would be able to tell which vein was going to be the easiest to put the picc line in. They also gave me a pill that was meant to relax my body which ended up doing the exact opposite, and I ended up having a horrible reaction to it. A picc line is a long skinny tube than goes into your vein with one end reaching all the way up towards your heart. Mine was 44 centimeters long.

Once the doctor came back into the room the craziness began. The next thing I knew he had a tray and nurses holding my arms with gloves and masks on and I was doing all I could to look away! I was squeezing my dads’ hand as tightly as I possibly could because I was in the most pain I had ever been in, in my entire life! [and I was scared] I was getting a tube shoved up my arm in the opposite flow of my blood, with needles and rubber gloves pinching my skin. This whole procedure took about twenty five minutes. The only thing I truly remember is my mom telling me to just take a deep breath and it would all be over soon. [Also most all of the nurses had told me was coming out is so much easier than going in, which was a relief.] I had never gone through so much torture in my life, even though I knew it was going to help me get better.

Once that whole scene was over with, they had a room ready for me, so I went in and looked around at the small closet, window bench where my parents would switch off nights sleeping there and the hospital bed they wheeled me in that I would be in for the next month. The room had a bathroom with a shower, tv and small desk top for my school work. While most would think being in the hospital provides you with a lot of down time, which coincidentally is the exact opposite, barely leaving enough time to get a meal in. The next month went by very slowly, with doctors coming in every day doing what I call "the octopus" in the mornings where there were at least eight of them at once who come in and use their stethoscopes to listen to you, breathe in and out and deep breathe. Once they are done my nurse for the daytime would come in and take some tests and start me on my morning medicines and routines of my hospitalization. Once that was done I would eat, watch movies, sleep, do physical therapy, and get occasional visits from my nurse or some friends! Seeing friends is the best surprise of all! And then I do my night time medicine, possibly make a small dent in some of my school work I’ve been missing for almost three weeks, and once I fell asleep my whole day starts over again!

I try to resist the temptation of looking out the window either up at the sky or down below at the people walking to work and this feeling over whelms me thinking how I wish I could be at school [even on a Sunday]. I’m not even sure my mother knows this, but I felt trapped like a monkey in a cage at the zoo, or a criminal behind bars in jail. I was not allowed to leave my room, ever! Because one step outside into that infested hallway could make me stay in there longer. Once my stay was over the day they told me I was going to be released, a huge feeling of accomplishment rushed through my body! I was being set free! To see the sky, smell the air, taste that dirty Boston water. "A nurse will be in to take out your line soon." "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" I couldn’t believe it! I was done! Finally!

Little did I know there was more to come.

Once the nurse came in to take out my line she was right! It was a lot easier to take out than to put in, that is, 42 centimeters of it. Then it got stuck. The last 2 centimeters! And what do you know?....I was back in pain! As the nurse was tugging and pulling at my arm, it felt like she was going to pull my vein right out of my arm! I was once again, squeezing my father’s hand; actually I began to bite it! I left teeth marks. After they tried as hard as they possibly could, with me laying on the bed for two hours, they finally decided to give up, telling me my veins were constricted and closing up right over the picc line. They sent in Loraine, a relaxation specialist. Within fifteen minutes of her being in my room, she was telling me to close my eyes playing soft music, and having me imagine and try to picture a door swinging open gently, or the wind blowing the veins open to let the line come out. I began to picture a flower blooming, opening its petals to show the beautiful flower in full bloom. The nurses re entered the room and I was breathing very calmly with that image in my mind and within the next five minutes my arm was free! No more picc line! I had an overwhelming feeling of happiness! I will never forget what had happened to me in these past few weeks.

As I walked out of my room going outside my mom told me to put on my sweatshirt because it was cold and rainy; I did as she said. But once we got outside to get the car from valet I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt the wind! I saw the sky! I smelled the air, felt the rain, saw the sun! I could not believe how long It had been since I had been outdoors! I immediately took off my sweatshirt and began to spin around and catch raindrops on my tongue and run wild through the parking lot! I felt amazing! My lungs felt stronger than ever I had done it!

I had faced me fear and beat it! I survived something someone my age should never have had to go through but I entered the battle and I had not been defeated, but was the winner! Of the biggest battle I have had to face in a long time. I face small battles every day, but this was no battle it was a war! Between fear and myself. And I could not believe...I won! I had conquered my fear and was ready to take on the world with whatever challenge it wanted to hand me next! I had a "bring it on" attitude. Now, I have been hospitalized again since then, but I was ready and if it ever comes again, I’ll tell my heart, and my brain, I’m prepared.

Peace. Love. Cure CF.

#cf #cysticfibrosis

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smuttyfairy · 8 years ago

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Buttercream: 2 (M)

Originally posted by helendrv

1. | 2. | 3. Genre: Smut/Angst/Fluff Summary: (Previously posted under @suganeedsanap) Who the hell comes to to party stripping out of a cake? Kim Taehyung. Hoseok plays babysitter, even if his conflicted feelings get in the way. Yoongi, why are you playing strip poker? (THIS IS PART TWO. PLEASE READ PART ONE FIRST. ) Warnings: Alcohol Use, Cheating Word count: 5,034 Written by: Smutty Jaefairy

All you could remember was your knees giving out and Jimin holding onto you. Your hair covered your eyes, blinding the world away for a short moment. His tangerine hair came into view, and then his round, bloodshot eyes. He had been crying.His hand lifted the hair from your face and his lips were forming words. You couldn’t hear, your mind kept replaying what he said last. “Taehyung left this morning. He said he wouldn’t be back for a long time. He said to tell you he loves you.” He didn't say why or how, he just left. You felt Jimin’s thumbs rubbing away wet drop on your cheeks. You started crying, and you didn’t even noticed. The shock settled in and made a home in your heart. The longer it stayed, it ruminate and became pain. Jimin helped you up, holding your hand. “I’m so sorry, Y/n.” You couldn’t say anything. Taehyung left you, but you knew it was probably harder for Jimin. They were childhood friends, and he didn't even give Jimin a proper reason. You glanced at Jimin, his face in sincere remorse. He knew that Taehyung was your everything. He was the first person you told when Taehyung gave you that ring from the arcade. Your 23rd date, a year into being a couple, he took you to an arcade. You played games and despite being terrible at them, Taehyung had always had a way to make something dull or annoying something worth smiling about. He kept you at the whack animal game for hours, getting enough tickets to buy you this small metal ring. The bright yellow diamond in the center was fake, but when he got on his knees in front of the gift counter and looked at you with his warm eyes, it felt like it was the rarest thing in the world. “I want you to know, I’ll work hard, I’ll make sure we’ll be happy Y/n. Please, will you be mine forever?” You looked at the ring on your finger, the shine seemed to dull. It felt light on your hand, as if it'd disappear next. Jimin placed his hand over yours and held you tightly, making the memory dissipate. “Don’t think about it right now..It’ll be okay, I'm here.” He murmured, rubbing your back. And Jimin was there was Tae wasn't. - Hoseok stood in the middle of the house party, his mouth partly open. In the hour you and Taehyung had left, Yoongi was gathering a crowd of girls for some party games, Namjoon had been taken away by Minae (doing god only knows), and Hoseok? He was sober and frantic. He was worried that you’d make a mistake alone with Taehyung. In the midst of everything, he found himself wandering over to the other side of the house and into the kitchen. It was littered with alcohol bottles, party balloons, and random finger foods. The sight reminded him of random parties you all would go to during his college days. Those days, when he roomed with Jimin. Whenever there a party, Hoseok became designated walker and would take his roommate home safely. His body slumped to the counter, leaning against it. Hoseok's mind wandered to old memories of his drunk friend holding onto him and telling him how happy he was that his hyung was there. Jimin and he attended the same art school, both in dancing. Jimin had natural talent, but sometimes his confidence wasn’t as strong. Hoseok was older, and he always came to him after classes. They had a few classes together and Jimin ended up taking a liking to Hoseok's style and his energy. Hoseok would give the younger boy help and pointers, and in return Jimin gave him something he couldn’t explain. His eye would always wander to his neck, the way his arms stretched as if he was reaching something no one but he could see. He saw the potential in Jimin and he believed that his younger classmate would succeed in life. When the elders said his style wasn’t modern enough, he showed them otherwise. When his family had money problems, and he had to take a part time job to keep going to school, it did not stop Park Jimin. Hoseok was drawn to him, caught in his pull and stuck in his rotation. They became best friends. Hoseok would walk with him to his job after their practice, giving Jimin the best of luck. Jimin would always give his hyung a bright smile, showing his optimism. Hoseok lived for those moments. Even if he was older than him, he admired Jimin. When Jimin danced it was as if he was reaching for the sun, reaching for something he couldn’t obtain. He felt himself secretly wishing to reach it with him, to feel what it was that Jimin felt when he lept, when his body popped and swerved to the music. He wanted to know what made him fight so hard.The day Jimin told him he was leaving the school, his heart felt a sharp slice. “Even with me paying most of school now, my family is having trouble keeping up with everything. I’m gonna get an apartment and save money. I’m gonna let them rent my room out, until things are settled. I’m sorry, hyung. I’ll miss-” Before he could finish, Hoseok interjected.“Stay with me, Jimin. I have enough space for the both of us. As long as you don’t mind. You can save your money and still go to school. You only have a year left, why give up?" Jimin bit his lip and looked down. " I don't want to inconvenience you, hyung." Hoseok took Jimin's hand and looked him in the eye. "I want to see you fly, Jiminie. It's no problem at all. We've danced together for this long, you should know I'm okay with it." Jimin played with his orange hair, a small smile growing on his face. "Okay..thank you, hyung. " Hoseok smiled, and Jimin's grin grew. "You're my hope, you know that?" Hope, Hobi. That's how he got his nickname. Jimin would tell people that Hoseok was his hope. He didn't know exactly what that meant, but whenever Jimin said it, it made him smile.As his group of friends became intertwined and you were introduced to him, things became awkward. Well, awkward for him. The older ones in your group would go out to eat and drink on fridays, Jimin coming along because he lived with Hoseok. It wasn't weird, Jimin was usually very pleasant and funny. You two were very talkative with one another. You thought he was excitable, but too cute for you sometimes. Definitely too flirty for you. Hoseok wanted you to pay attention to Jin, Yoongi or Namjoon and leave Jimin alone. There were times where you and Namjoon would have deep conversations, prompting Jimin to talk to Hoseok. He felt this unpleasant feeling leaving him. It felt weird for him. He enjoyed you, you and Hoseok were almost instantly like siblings. You both were timid and had a maternal streak to you, but quickly had an overexcitable side. If you liked Jimin, he would approve of you two together, but he couldn't help but feel dead when Jimin smiled at you. The night you mentioned your first date with Taehyung, Jimin was mostly quiet. He drank more than usual and Hoseok had to take him home. Hoseok's hand held onto his as they stumbled to his flat. "Taehyung is so oblivious, how did she say yes to him?" he giggled. "Jimin, how much did you drink?" "Oh, you weren't drinking so I drank your beer too." "Bad Jimin, bad." He tapped his nose, Jimin laughing louder at this point. When they reached the door, Jimin leaned against the wall. Hoseok unlocked the door and turned around. Jimin stepped up to him and pressed his full lips against the taller boys. As soon as it was over, another kiss was given. Then another. "Hyung, do you know how it feels to have your heart broken twice?" - "HOSEOK!" He looked up and saw Yoongi. He had a bra on his head and sunglasses. He stumbled over, grinning so wide his gums were on display. "Where's Y/n?" Hoseok looked at Yoongi in disbelief. How much did this poor soul have and what happened in the span of twenty minutes? "This is her party and I'm getting more action than her." "She's still upstairs with Taehyung?" Hoseok guessed, shrugging and opening a bottle of water. "Oh nevermind. She's getting more action than me." "Don't be rude, Yoongi. I'm sure she wouldn't. She has Jimin." Yoongi took off his sunglasses and squinted at Hoseok."How can you say that?" He countered, pointed his sunglasses at him. "Huh?" "Don't huh me. You know as much as me she doesn't love Jimin." Hoseok took a swig of water and frowned. "Jimin's happy, and she's happy." "Are you happy?" Hoseok looked at Yoongi. The young man tilted his head, as if to say "Yeah, I know." "If Jimin's happy..I am." He murmured. All of a sudden, his ringtone blared from the back of his pocket. He pulled his phone out and answered Jimin's call. "Hello, Jiminie. Having fun?" He said, feigning excitement. Suga placed his sunglasses back on and shook his head. He yelled towards the girls in the other room and danced cutely over. "Hyunnnnnnggg!! I'm bored! Me, Jungkookie and Jin are coming over! We went out for bulgogi but we saw Minae's twitter. No fair!" Hoseok laughed, Jimin's satoori coming out through his voice. "Jimin you aren't supposed to see the bride at the bachelorette party. " "Ah, who cares about things like that! I'm coming over." Hoseok's brain replayed the cake fiasco and he panicked. "Jimin! nonono!" "Nonono? What's wrong? What's going on?" Jimin asked, slightly scared. He paced around the kitchen, thinking of what to say."I don't know why I said no." He found himself lost for words. "Hobi, you're acting weird.." He felt his cheeks warm up at his nickname. "Jimin it's your last night as a bachelor, don't you have anything you want to do before you marry Y/n?" he said, his nerves taking over. Jimin paused for a long moment and sighed. "There is, but I can't. It's a regret, but I'll live with it. I don't want to hurt anyone." Hoseok raised his eyebrow. Jimin would said weird cryptic things like that when him and Hoseok were having serious talks. "What do you mean?" "Ah! Jungkookie found a cab! we're on our way. See you soon, Hobi! " he hung up and left Hoseok confused and dazed. He would remember that night of the kiss constantly. He would also remember Jimin's behavior the next morning. How he didn't remember the kiss and how he confessed to Hoseok he drank so much because he was in love with you. Hoseok looked at the lonely punch, a small amount at the bottom of the container. He walked over to it, picked up a cup and poured himself a drink. He quickly downed it, and went for another. He grimaced, drank it down and headed for the stairs. - You found a bathrobe and looked at your face in the mirror. The face in it looked drained, tired and dead. You phone was still in your pile of clothes, ringing every few minutes. Taehyung had to still be in the room, and it made you terrified. Pressing your ear against the door you heard struggling and banging. “...Taehyung, open the door!” the voice was muffled, but it was loud enough for you to make out that it was Hoseok. “It’s stuck! I can’t.” Taehyung said. You heard him struggling with the door and cursed yourself. What kind of luck you were having tonight. “….. Jimin...Open!!” It could have been your hearing but your heard Hoseok say Jimin’s name and your head swerved. You heard conversation between the two, deciding to wait it out a while longer. If Jimin came right now, everything would really turn upside down. “Like everything isn’t already upside down.” You muttered, feeling the door swing open. Your eyes met Taehyun’s and for a moment, everything calmed. He looked hurt and confused, tears ready to push from his eyes. “You and Jimin.. When..” He didn’t know and you shook your head, realizing he was just as spacey as before. “You were gone for three years, Tae..” “He knew..He knew I was coming back! “ “ What? I thought you didn’t say anything except sorry.” He walked over to you cupping your face and pressing his lips against yours roughly. He broke the kiss and looked at you. "I was coming back, jagiya..I left you that letter explaining everything." Letter? What letter? You didn't remember receiving any type of letter. You tried to remember but all you could do was feel his lips on yours once again. It could have been the last splashes of alcohol in your veins or the cloudy feeling in your head, but you felt yourself letting your hands slip into his hair. Your lips brushed against his and you were the one kissing him suddenly. You hopped and he grabbed your thighs, carrying you into the room. Tae's head was just as foggy as yours, stumbling around til he tripped and send you both crashing onto the bed. The spell broke for a moment, your face slamming into the mattress and Taehyung's into the headboard. You heard a quiet "Ow" from him, his hand rubbing the back of his head for a moment. In the same second he has rolled you over and pulled one of your eyelids open. "Ah, Y/n are you alright? Did you get hurt?" You swatted his hand away. "This an eye exam? I'm fine." "Ah, I wanted to make sure you weren't blind." You sat up and shook you head, laughing. "That makes no sense.. I just fell on a bed, Hahaha!" He laughed alongside you and you crawled on top of him, your lips devouring his.Sitting on his lap, he wrapped his arms around you, slipping his tongue in your mouth. His warm tongue brushed against yours and tasted every part of your mouth he could. His reward was a loud moan from you, prompting him to grind against you. His bulge rubbed against you, and at this point you could only think about what you wanted: Him. You untied the bathrobe, your body feeling the warm air upon impact. His eyes took everything in, a smirk growing on his face. His hands went straight for your breast, squeezing and teasing your nipples. He moaned feeling your nipples, making his growing erection harder to keep clothed. You pulled back from his mouth and kissed his cheek. There was still bits of buttercream and cake all over him. You licked the frosting off his nose and he giggled, his childlike demeanor peeking through for a moment. You shut him up with a deep kiss, his hands slipping to your ass. He grabbed it firmly, and attacked your lips again. You smirked into every kiss until you pulled back. "Stop, you like them too much." You teased, kissing his cheek. You went down to his neck, cleaning it thoroughly with your tongue. His moans were making you wetter everytime he opened his mouth. The frosting on his nipples were next, and you gently bit down. He groaned and his hand went for your hair, his fingers nestling in your locks as your tongue trailed around and lapped his hard nubs. He whispered your name, his grip on your hair getting tighter. When they was finally clean, your hands went for his belt buckle. Taehyung pushed forward and kissed you before you leaned back, getting comfortable in the sheets. He wiped some frosting off of his arm and spread it on your lower lips. You raised an eyebrow. "Taehyu-" "Oh look, you missed a spot in the shower! " He hovered over you and looked at you, taking in everything he missed for a few moments. "It's like I never left.." He murmured, kissing your forehead before going down to your warmth. He gently licked the frosting from your lips before opening them and enjoying the sight of you being soaked. "Hmm..do I really make you this horny, Y/n?" "Ah.. Tae.." You covered your mouth and looked away. You were always hot and bothered when he acted like this in bed. He was right, it was like he never left. "Answer me~" He teased, his finger pressing your clit gently.You moaned loudly, your face growing hotter with each touch. "Yes..you make me feel like this." you moaned. He rubbed your clit slowly, his large tongue licking your wetness up. You hummed and steadied your breathing. "Did you think about me when you were with him..?" "Tae, don't-" You gasped as he slipped two fingers inside you with no warning, pumping slowly. "Y/n, I know you did. Just humour me.." he said. Taehyung had seemed like his usual self but this kind of cockiness was new. You weren't complaining. "Mmm.. I think about you sometimes.." You whispered. His fingers got faster and his lips kissed your harden clit, wrapping his lips around it. As he started sucking, jolts of pleasure waved over you. You moaned loudly and felt yourself grinding into his mouth. He gave you more attention, his fingers curling inside you. They began rubbing against your spot, a warm pool of pleasure filling in your stomach. "Taehyung, oh god I'm almost there!" You screamed. He pulled himself away and looked up, smirking. "Just sit back and enjoy yourself. " he crooned, lapping at your clit the way he knew you liked. You pulled your head back and you panted, your hands laid on the bed clenched. The feeling growing in your stomach was making your body warm, the tipping point right around the corner. "Tae.. please.. faster..faster..Tae!" You gasped as he added another finger and pumped faster until your hand grabbed his hair and you groaned his name, orgasm taking over. You rode it out, your heart beat rising and falling slowly back to a normal pace. He pulled his fingers away from you and kissed your warmth, traveling up. He kissed your stomach , your breast and rested his lips at your neck. His teeth bit down gently as undid his belt, pulling his cock out. He lined the hard member with your opening, his tip gently rubbing against your lips. He looked up at you and kissed you gently. "Is this okay..?" He asked, lost in your eyes. You paused for a moment, and then nodded. His lips pressed against your forehead and He pushed himself into you slowly. You gasped for a moment, you hand gripping his arm. He hesitated and looked at you. "I forgot how thick you were.." you moaned softly. His cheeks grew red and he held you, slipping in more. You whined and he whispered apologies, kissing your cheek. He made sure to kiss you and eased you into it. After a few moments, you felt the warm feeling in your stomach revisit. You moaned deeply, loving the feeling of him filling you up inside. "Taehyung, I'm ready.." Your cheeks flushed as he got up and looked at you. His eyes stared back at you with lust, his tongue licking his lips as he pumped gently into you. He reveled in the sounds you made with each thrust of his hard cock. His mind started to wind and jealousy took root in his. The thought of another man, a man who was once one of his closest friends, seeing you make these moans. It drove made him crazy. Before you knew it you were lifted up, switching places with him. He pumped into you harder, your body feeling every thrust that went into you. Your moans got louder, and so did the music downstairs. You were too lost in the moment to care. His hands gripped on your hips tightly, The skin around them bruising. “ "Does he fuck you better than me, Y/n?" his voice went to this dark place, sending shivers down your spine. "Ah.." You panted, feeling his cock rammed inside you. " No! No, he doesn't..fuck..mmm.." His grip loosened and he looked at you. He kissed your attacked lips softly and then thrusted harder. "Good..Remember I'm the only one who can made you cum like this." his voice got lower, making your moans more needy. "Mmm...his cock can't make me as wet as yours, baby.." you bit your lip, realizing what came out of your mouth. You pressed your hands into his chest and rode him, moving in time with his thrusts. Your moans creeped louder out of your mouth, the feeling in your stomach spreading to your abdomen. You screamed, your nails sinking into his chest, sending him over the edge. After a few moments, you felt a sudden burst of pleasure once more. You laid on his chest, his hand petting you.Once the wave calmed and the only sound was the music from downstairs, you both looked at each other. Breaths intertwining with each other, skin touching. The spell had been broken. You remembered you weren't his anymore. You and Jimin were getting married. You were marrying Jimin, and Tae was too late. "Do you still love me?" His face looked hurt, lost. His eyes were searching for hope in yours.You knew that you still did. You weren't dumb. No amount of denial could fool you now. You remembered how happy he looked when he popped out the cake. The toothy grin among the dimmed lights. You'd rather see that then the heartbroken face you saw now. You sighed and played with his hair. "I've only loved you, you know that." You flicked his nose and he dramatically fell next to you. You playfully hit his chest and smirked. "You're not dead Tae, I won't let you die on me." He smiled and opened one eye. "Aw, that's not fair." You smiled and layed on his chest, his arm wrapping around you. "Noona, are you tired?" You felt your cheeks get red and Tae laughed. "You still get embarrassed when I call you that.." "It sounds so dirty when you say it. Your deep voice is such a devious thing." He lifted your chin and kissed you deeply. "Am I really that devious?" His voice got lower again and you pushed his face away. "Now you're just trying too hard." You giggled and he joined you, moving closer to you. You eyes felt heavy, and being this close to him felt so very comfortable. "I can't remember the last time I felt so at ease.." you murmured into his chest. He traced his thumb against your cheek and hummed softly, singing you to sleep. - As soon as he heard the first moan, Hoseok stepped away from the door. He was not regretting those drinks right now. He walked down the steps and into the living room. As soon as he made it to the doorway, he saw girls dancing and partying around. It felt like the amount of people there doubled, and he sighed. In the center, next to the demolished cake, a group of girls were missing random articles of clothing. One of them was wearing Yoongi's jacket to hide her chest. There were cards in the center and at the top of the circle sat Yoongi. The bra was still on his head and the sunglasses still adorned his face. His hands were full of won and he was bartering with a girl across from him. "Okay give me 30,000 won and I'll let you keep your shoes." "Yoongi, ah.. " Hoseok walked over wandered over and sat on the couch behind them. "What are you doing?" He looked back, his buisness man face on. "We're playing strip poker. If you don't want to strip, you give me 30,000 won and you keep your clothes. Winner of the last hand gets the pot." Hoseok gave him a confused face and looked at everyone. At this point Yoongi lost his jeans and his shoes. "Oh..oh!! Yoongi! Jimin's coming. With Jin hyung and Jungkook." Yoongi went back to the game, laughing. "Oh shit, that's gonna be a mess." "Where's Namjoon?" "He's probably messing around. " " Great.." Hoseok sighed and leaned back on the couch. Yoongi and Namjoon drunk was always a disaster. He was surprised Yoongi drank so much, he usually relied on him to be his sober buddy. Not today. The way his laughs floated into the air...He was too far gone by now. Knocks were heard and Hoseok answered the door. Jimin, Jin, and Jungkook walked in. Jimin looked happy, his face glowing when he saw Hoseok. "Hobi hyung!" He hugged him tight, as if he didn't want to let go. He looked up at the taller male and smiled. The red in his cheeks was a good indicator that he was drunk. "Not you too.." Hobi said, petting Jimin's head. "Where's Y/n?" Jimin asked, letting go of Hoseok and looking around. That weird feeling settled in his chest again, and he shrugged. "I haven't a clue." he lied. He frowned and leaned against the wall. He let the feeling grow in his chest, getting annoyed how he was casted aside. Jungkook had already found himself a place with the dancers, and Jin found himself in the kitchen making a drink. Hoseok looked at his hyung til Jin felt him staring. "Oh, Hoseok." He gave him a warm smile, raising his cup slightly. "That stuff is ruining everyone." Hoseok grimaced, running a hand through his hair. Jin smiled, a laugh laced in his lips. "It usually does, but if you drink too much they say people's true nature comes out. " Jin added a splash of soju to his juice and walked over to Hoseok. "I heard Taehyung came back finally." "Oh, you knew?" Hoseok’s eyes widen at his friend's nonchalant revelation. "Ah, I keep in contact with him often. " "Why didn't you let any of us know?" "Well, he didn't want you guys to know. He was afraid that he'd be discouraged. He wanted to decide something on his own and actually stick with it, no distractions." Hoseok frowned. He knew most of their friends was quick to scold him and tell him he wasn't doing anything with his life before he left. "I wish I could have been there for him." "I think it made him happy that you took his call when he came back." Jin took a sip from his drink and looked around. "This is an American tradition, right? It's very lively." "Everyone's having fun, I think it's crazy. Good crazy." Hoseok laughed. "Why aren't you having fun, then?" Jin asked. Hoseok looked over at Jimin, who was talking to Yoongi. Jin watched him, and understood. "Ahhh...Hey Hobi. I think I heard someone say Y/n went down to the convenience store. Maybe you and Jimin should go look for her?" Hoseok looked at Jin, feigning innocence as his sipped his drink. "Oh..I'll let Jimin know." Hoseok walked over to Jimin and told him what Jin said, rushing him out of the house. - The day Tae left, Hoseok heard from Jimin and Jin that he was gone. Jimin asked Hobi to meet him in front of the convenience store. When Hoseok got there, Jimin was kneeling. His hands were ripping up a piece of paper, folding and tearing. "Jiminie.." Hoseok stood next to him. He was quiet, folding and tearing. "Hyung. Y/n is gonna be hurt." "I know.." "I don't know why he didn't tell her goodbye." "She would have made him stay." Fold and tear. Fold and tear. Hoseok watched the younger boy, tears taining his face. "Jimin...are you going to miss him? You guys are pretty close. I-" "Hyung..All he said was that he was going to make things right." He stood up, throwing the bits of paper into a trash bin near by. " He didn't say where he was going or why..It hurts." Hoseok hugged Jimin from behind, sighing into his shoulder. "I'm sorry..he must have had some reason." He couldn't see his face but he could tell that Jimin was fighting back tears. He loved his friends, they were a second family to him. Especially Taehyung, and Jungkook. In their town, the three all grew up together and shared some of the most important moments of their lives with each other. Jimin was hurt, tremendously. He was also feeling jealousy, something he tried to keep tightly wound up. Hoseok let go of him, and he felt something inside him uncoil. His tears fell and all of his emotions seem to make a home on his shoulders. He couldn't hold everything in, he had to take control. His choked sobs resounded in Hoseok's heart, his hand rubbing the younger boys back. He wished he could have comforted him more, but in those days he tried to keep boundaries with Jimin after the drunk night. He couldn't confuse Jimin anymore than he already was. Jimin turned to his hyung, his Hobi. His eyes drenched in tears, but his expression void. "I'm sorry, Hyung." He smiled sadly and walked off, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Hoseok tried to follow him, talk to him, anything to see the boy smile again. "Don't." was the only reply he got. Jimin walked into the convenience store and saw you, his expression changing instantly. "Noona! Do you have a minute?" "Oh, Jimin. What's up? You okay? Isn't this Tae's shift?" you asked, noticing his bloodshot eyes. The conversation faded out as the doors closed. Hoseok was frozen, his brain blank. That was the first time Jimin pushed him away.After that day, the day Kim Taehyung left, he would push Hoseok away until you became his girlfriend. Hoseok realized, in that one moment, he wasn't his hope anymore. You were.

#bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung scenarios #bts scenarios #kim taehyung #bts

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artificialqueens · 8 years ago

Text

See You in April Ch. 3 - NQOTB (Trixya)

A/N - Hey guys, hope you enjoyed Chapter 2. The Queen of indecisiveness has struck again, and we’ve gone straight in for the kill with “The Talk.” Last Chapter I think I was attacked by a glitch in the matrix and some parts of the last couple paragraphs got cut off so I’ve put them at the beginning here to make up for it :)

Buckle up and experience 4K of pure, unadulterated angst.

*generic female voiceover artist* “last week on See You in April…”

He noticed Trixie shifting uncomfortably on his feet and realised his internal monologue of all the things he wished he could say had probably gone on for too long and that the frustration on his face was becoming clear. He couldn’t think straight. He had to end this conversation now before it became an external monologue and he said something to hurt his favourite person in the world.

“Well you know, I’ve never really had a favourite movie… just a top 10 that I watch in rotation.” Katya could feel himself distancing as he always did. Don’t do it. Show him that he’s all you want. “I don’t really believe that anyone ever has just one perfect… movie… for them.” Yes you do. “I think that there are lots of movies that can make you feel the same way that your favourite movie makes you feel.” You can still feel him touching you, you liar. “I don’t think you should get too attached to a film, to be honest.” You love him. You’ve loved him every day for the past three years. “I think maybe you should ask, uh, Dan? Yeah, Dan. You should ask him what kind of movies he likes on your date next week.”

He wanted to punch himself in the face the second he finished speaking. But he had done the job - Trixie was nodding his head and pushing an empty plastic cup that had fallen on the floor last night with his foot. He carried on glancing down at his feet when he spoke, the defeated tone in his voice clear as day.

“I see. Yeah, I think you’re right. Like you said… I need to get out there a bit more. See some more movies.”

Now or never, Barbra. Looks like you’ve chosen never.

Six months later

Trixie cautiously put one foot into the apartment as if he were dipping a cautious toe into a cold pool. He had been here so many times, but his mind hadn’t been there quite yet - he was always looking forward, thinking of the next gig, the next filming day, the next date he had with his boyfriend. Boyfriends. Katya stood in the hallway for a second and shuffled on his feet. Trixie could tell he didn’t really know what to say to him for the first time in his life.

“I'm… gonna get in the shower quickly. If that’s okay. I’m super sweaty from the journey and I need to wake myself up a bit. You can make yourself coffee if you want? Uh - pay no attention to the broken mug. That was a thing. I’ll sort it out in a bit.” The blonde man darted left into his bedroom and shut the door behind him, leaving Trixie standing there in solitude without having said a word in response. “Uh, yeah, sure. See you in a minute” he called out and made his way into the lounge.

He had never paid enough attention to the minute details of his friends apartment. Did he always have this record player? What records did he even play? He was pretty sure they didn’t put German industrial house onto vinyl but if anyone could find a copy, it would be Katya. He gazed around now to the nooks and crannies that he had never thought to dissect; the stack of videotapes containing grainy footage of all the Russian Olympic gymnasts of the 80’s and 90’s in the corner, a collection of crystals soaking up the ever-cascading sunset on the window ledge, the cowb– the cowboy hat. Trixie had worn it the day she was eliminated (for the second time) from the show that had crashed their lives together. And now it was here, on the wall, right above his head and the couch. A faltering beam of sunlight was coming through the window, and Trixie could see a couple of hairs in the light that were stuck in the weave of the hat that had come from the dark wig she wore that day. He reached out to touch it, but it was just out of his arms reach. Seems fitting.

He walked into the kitchen and padded over to the coffee machine. I pay $300 for this and that fool hasn’t even learnt how to put the beans in properly?” He should have known better than to buy the older man something like this to impress him, such a fuss. He was far too free-spirited to be in awe of a coffee machine. Trixie watched the coffee drip down into the jug laboriously and eagerly poured himself a mug as soon as it was done. The hot liquid coated his empty stomach like a fur coat in winter, and he could feel the caffeine take a hold instantly. God, when did he last eat? Or sleep for longer than half an hour? He couldn’t even tell you what day it was. The past 6 weeks had just felt like… a permanent Monday.

He heard the bedroom door click open and Brian walked in, vigorously drying his hair with a towel.

“Penny for your thoughts, mama? Wanna tell me what you’re thinking?”

Trixie stared up at the man in front of him. He tried to look for any physical signs of what might have happened to him over the past 6 weeks, but all he could see was his silly little soulmate standing there with a silly little grin on his face. It was always a surprise seeing him in his most natural state, stripped of all the paint and cloth that turned him into the Russian woman he met three years ago. He still found it incredible how the man could transform - not just physically, but characteristically, and still remain the same fantastic human being with those piercing blue eyes that sucked him in every damn time. He stared into them until they started staring back with an inquisitive squint and he remembered that he had been asked a question. He shook his head, partly in answer and partly to snap himself out of it. He had to try and stay focused.

“If I did, we would be here forever.”

“I’ve got time.”

The younger Brian bit his bottom lip, pondering where to start. He had envisioned seeing his friend again so many times, laid awake imagining where he might be and what he might be doing, but he hadn’t exactly thought through what he was going to say when he saw him. Being the rational and chill woman he was, Trixie had spent pretty much every night panicking that Katya was somewhere in the world doing something, or someone, he shouldn’t be. Getting himself in trouble. Doing things he had been strong enough to not do for a long time. He had tried calling his phone every day, and every day he would hear the same voicemail of Katya saying some shit in Russian and then laughing down the end of the receiver, followed by the inevitable beep to leave a message. He hadn’t expected the phone to actually ring today, so when it did he panicked and made his way to his apartment as quick as he could. He saw his friend get out of Amy’s car and make his way inside from the bar across the road, and decided to wait a while until he followed him in. He got to the door, froze, and sat down to collect his thoughts and calm the fuck down. That’s when Katya had opened the door.

“Where were you going?” He finally asked the blonde.

“You mean where have I been, or…?”

“No, I mean just now. When you opened the front door, you looked like you were in a rush to get somewhere.”

“I was, but it just so happens that it doesn’t matter now.”

Trixie’s mouth twitched into a slight smirk as he hoped that meant he had been on his way to see him. Then he remembered he was the one that was supposed to say something next and his tongue suddenly forgot how to work. Katya looked at him intently, reading his face.

“So. One hundred and sixty five texts, huh? Were you trying to get an advertising deal with AT&T?”

“You think I’m some kind of animal? Verizon, bitch.” Katya’s wheezing laugh broke the tension and Trixie found himself smiling properly for the first time in weeks. He could always count on his best friend to laugh at him as well as with him. “Listen, I… uh…”

“…You wanna know where I’ve been and why I’ve been there?”

Trixie was taken aback by how willing Katya seemed to be to have this conversation.

“I mean… yeah. But what I was actually gonna say is I know that it’s not my business. And I know I shouldn’t have been so caught up about it. I was just so scared that you weren’t okay that I went a little bit, uh… well, bat shit crazy would be a good phrase.”

Trixie could feel his cheeks warming up as he remembered some of the things he had done over the past six weeks. He’d never listened to more Johnny Cash in his life, he’d been performing to Lana Del Rey songs, he was drinking almost every day. He told everyone it was because Dan had broken up with him but only he knew that he hadn’t really cared about that at all. He knew what Dan was going to do the minute he walked into his apartment that day, and he just sat there staring at the blank television screen and playing with a hangnail. He barely even listened to what he was saying to him, the reasons he was giving. Because he knew why, they both did. He let him finish, picked up the bag his now ex-boyfriend had already packed with the stuff Trixie had left at his apartment and left without so much as even looking back. He had never felt so… relieved. Relieved that he didn’t have to carry on pretending. That he didn’t have to be the one to break it off and look like the heartless dickhead. That he didn’t have to keep closing his eyes to imagine blue ones staring back at him and blonde locks of hair twisted into his fingers in the dark heat of the night.

A cough from the blonde jolted Trixie back into his stream of consciousness. Brian was nodding in slow motion to himself, the cogs of his brain visible in their desperate efforts to think of what to say next.

“I wouldn’t say that is entirely true. I do think it is partly your business where I go, especially if I just fuck off like that. So I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But you know me, mama, I’m a creature of impulse.” Brian flipped a lighter over and over in his hand as he spoke. He shuffled on his feet restlessly before he jumped up on the side, and Trixie knew he was trying to control the anxiety that was starting to brew, as it always did when a conversation between the two turned serious. “Where do you think I went?”

“I thought you might have gone home at some point. I did a gig in Boston three weeks ago and I went to your mom’s house to see if you were there.”

“Oh yeah, Amy told me about your little visit.” Trixie looked up to find Katya smirking at her. He’s enjoying this, isn’t he?

“Oh man. Can you tell her I’m sorry? I really shouldn’t have pestered her like that, with all the emails and the texts and the -”

“- drunken phone calls?”

Fuck. “I forgot about that. For god’s sake, I’m a mess. I… I called you too, didn’t I?” Foggy recollections were now making their way back into Trixie’s mind. A bar in Tennessee, a whole bottle of bourbon, a random dirty blonde guy with blue-ish eyes taking him into a bathroom stall and then Trixie leaving as soon as he realised he couldn’t fill that void. A phone call. Shouting. Wait, he shouted at the guy on the street, right? Or was he shouting down the phone? He cried, he definitely knew that. But was it because the call never went through, or… it was hurting his head just trying to remember.

“Yeah, yeah you called me. You left a voicemail, that was interrupted by a halftime show of you fighting some random dude.”

“The guy! Yes, I remember that. What did I say? Oh god, I don’t even wanna know. If I was a cunt please don’t pay any attention, I was so wasted I would have said anything. I promise I didn’t mean anything I said.”

Katya’s smirk looked like it had been slapped off of his face in half a second.

“Was I that bad?”

Katya snapped back into the conversation and quickly plastered a smile back onto his face. “Uh… yeah, yeah you were a total asshole. It’s okay though. Too good to be true.”

“What does that mean?”

“I… nothing. I thought maybe it was a call from a drunken mind speaking a sober heart, that’s all. But it’s okay, honestly.” Katya poured himself a coffee and chugged it, the nerves showing in his shaky hands. “So, uh, how’s things with Dan?”

“He’s gone, it’s whatever. What did I say on that voicemail?”

Trixie saw Katya’s jaw muscles clench shut, and he knew that his walls were about to come rushing back up. Let me in. Please. He exhaled quickly and shot Trixie an annoyed glance.

“It doesn’t matter what you said, you just told me you didn’t mean it. And what do you mean he’s gone and it’s whatever? Is that what you came over here to talk to me about, that you’ve broken up with him like I’m supposed to be happy about that? It’s whatever? Six weeks ago you were thanking me for covering your fucking tracks so that he wouldn’t find out that you only went out with him because I told you to.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I stupidly encouraged you to go on a date with him and now look at where we are. Six months later and still both just as miserable as we were before. I tried to not see you as much, I tried to keep it on a professional level. I even invited the both of you out for dinner. You argued, he left, I came home with you. Held you in my arms and kissed you to sleep. Looked like a fucking fool the next morning when he turned up with a bunch of flowers and an apology and you were shoving me out of your bed and into the shower before you opened the door to him. I went to the other side of the fucking world to sort my head out, did yoga all day every day to block out what your collarbone felt like on my lips and instead it made me focus in on everything even more. I tuned into my inner core and it turns out you’ve managed to bury your way in there. God damn it.”

Katya jumped off of the kitchen counter he had been perched on and walked into the living room, pacing up and down. He grabbed his Rose Quartz and stroked the smooth side with his thumb. Trixie got up and slowly followed him into the living room, sitting on the couch. He was trying to read the other man’s face for a sign of what to say in response, but he was looking down at the floor and muttering to himself as he paced. Looks like you were wrong on this one, girl. A yoga retreat… other side of the world… because of you.

“So that’s why you left? Because of that night and the text I sent you after?”

“Yeah, it was because of that night. And every night before it. And every day. I can’t do this anymore, Bri.”

Trixie swallowed down a lump that had formed in his throat.

“What, you don’t wanna be friends? You don’t wanna be in my life anymore?”

Katya stopped pacing, and faced the younger man sat down in front of him. He sat down on his knees and stared Trixie straight in the eyes. “I want to be in your life, every single day of it. But I don’t want to blur the lines that you wanted to set and then spend those days watching you with someone else and then feeling like I’m going to have a heart attack every time you break up with someone. I told you to get out there for a bit but I didn’t mean get out there and go away from me. I knew the second I finished talking that day that you would go on that date and fall in love with him. I knew you didn’t want me, it was just because you were lonely and drunk and confused, that’s why I didn’t let things go too far that night. Because I knew you would regret it. But I didn’t know that telling you to go on that date would make you push so far away from me as a friend too.”

“Are you kidding? You pushed away from me!” Trixie knew that came out a lot louder than he meant it to, but the hurt that had built up over the last six weeks was slowly making its way out. The desperation he had felt, the need to see Katya and make sure he was safe had now been satisfied, so he had room for his anger to come bursting through. “You are the one that pushed away from me after that night in Palm Springs. Gave me all that bullshit about not wanting to commit to one person. Told me to go on the date with Dan. You are the one that spent two months after that trip spending time with everyone else except me. I had to see picture after picture of you with Violet, and I would spend all night thinking about you and your rotation of guys that you can fuck without all this bullshit and drama. You are the one that wouldn’t be in a room alone with me for weeks. Okay fine, I agree, I shouldn’t have invited you back to mine after the argument with Dan. And I shouldn’t have asked you to lie to him. But for the record, he split up with me. I didn’t make that call, he did. He said he couldn’t be with me any more. What the fuck did you expect from me anyway, Kat? You made it clear - you don’t want this. Not in the same way I thought I did, anyway.”

“The same way you thought you did? So you don’t feel that way any more?” Katya’s eyes were now burning holes into Trixie’s with their intensity. Something had changed in the way Katya was looking at him, and a knot formed in his stomach as a lie formed on his tongue.

“No. I don’t.”

“But you’re not with Dan any more?”

“No. I’m not.” Stop staring at me.

“And he broke up with you?”

“Yeah, that’s what I just said.”

“Why did he break up with you?”

Because I have fallen in love with you and I wasn’t even trying to hide it from him after you left. “Same as always, touring got in the way.”

“And you don’t have feelings for me.”

“That’s right. You said it. I was drunk and lonely. And you were just there.” You were there too, Trix. You felt it. You both did.

“And you told our friends that what happened at Palm Springs was just a bit of temporary fun.”

“That’s what it was, wasn’t it?”

“But you didn’t like seeing pictures of me with Violet because you thought we were having sex?”

“N-no, it wasn’t because of tha-”

“-but you don’t have feelings for me? All your outbursts and love songs and texts since I’ve been gone were normal because you don’t have feelings for me? And you said ‘I love you’ down the phone because you don’t have feelings for me?”

Fuuuuuuuck.

“You can say I love you to your friends. I say it all the time.” Trixie’s heart had fallen into his ass. He was surprised he could even form a sentence, his heart was pounding so loudly it was drowning out all thought. Three years of will they won’t they and your big Ross and Rachel moment is one you were too wasted to remember?!

Katya stared at him for a few seconds more, and quietly got up to walk over to the window ledge. He picked up his phone and without saying a word, pressed play on his voicemail. They listened in silence as Trixie’s memories came screaming back to him. Katya kept his back to Trixie as he spoke.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but to me that sounds like someone who sounds very confused, conflicted and unsure of their feelings. But it definitely does not sound like someone who doesn’t have any feelings for me at all.”

Trixie’s head sunk into his hands as his brain scrambled for the right words to say. All he could think of was the truth.

“I don’t know what this feeling is, but I do know that you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.” Katya turned around. “I thought I had lost you forever and then I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t breathe for six weeks. I’m barely breathing now. But I don’t know what that means.”

Katya exhaled for the both of them, and sat back down on the floor, his back up against the wall. “What do you want, Trix?”

“I want to go home and sleep for a whole night for the first time in almost two months now I know you’re safe and not laying in a ditch somewhere.”

“You’re the one that’s gonna be found dead under a mattress, you pig.” Katya smiled weakly at the younger man. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I really am. If it had been the other way round…”

“I know. I wasn’t done - I want to go home and sleep, and then I want you to come to my gig tomorrow. Last night of Ages 3 and Up, loads of bitches are gonna be there. It will be fun.” Katya opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself and clamped his teeth shut again. “Just think about it. No pressure, just a friend showing his face to support another friend.”

Trixie got up from the couch and walked over to Katya, sticking out a hand to help him up from the floor. As he helped him up, Katya lost his balance and grabbed onto Trixie’s hip to stop himself from falling. He steadied himself but his hand lingered, and he stared up into Trixie’s eyes intently. Trixie kept the gaze, trying desperately to ignore his knees weakening as he lost himself in two tiny oceans before him. He reached down with the back of his hand and lightly stroked Katya’s cheekbone. The smaller man shivered underneath his touch.

“You should have let me choose now.” His hand dropped back down to his side as he turned around and walked out of the apartment, racing to the front door before Katya saw the salted tracks starting to run down his face.

Trixie shut the front door of his apartment and collapsed in a heap on the floor. Katya. The exhaustion of the past few weeks had finally hit him and he could barely think straight. He needed to sleep. Katya. He dragged himself into the shower and allowed the warm water to soothe his aching muscles, finally relaxing for the first time in weeks now he knew his friend was safe. Katya. He turned off the faucet and shivered at the cool air of his bedroom hitting his damp skin. His body remembered just how exhausted he was and he collapsed onto his bed, pulling the covers over him. Katya?

04/04/2017

20:09pm Katya: I’ll be there.

Trixie kissed the screen of his phone and, for the first time in a long time, allowed sleep to take him into aquamarine dreams.

#see you in april #nqotb #trixya #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #angst #rpdr fanfiction #canon compliant

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