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illogicalpunkwrites · 4 years ago

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What Water Gave Me

Hello everyone! This one is...interesting. I dunno, have fun! Thank you for reading and please let me know if you would like to be tagged!

Pairings: Leonard McCoy x Kirk!Reader

Rating: M (18+)

Warning: Sex pollen, smut, ABO dynamics, cursing, angst

Words: 4.4K

Tags: @bloodangelballerina @theweepingvulcan91

None of you found out about it until it was too late. Visiting a new planet was always exciting, especially when it was far different from Earth. None of the biologists knew what would happen when the crew drank the water until the first person started showing symptoms. That first person was none other than

your brother and the captain, Jim Kirk. He started behaving erratically, nearly pushing over other people to make sure Carol wasn’t messed with. She started to sweat and you hurried over to pull them away from each other. While you and Jim used to rough house in your younger days, you weren’t used to him actually trying to fight you. He got a couple of hits in, some of them really hurting you before you were able to gather yourself.

“Jim!” You yelped as he swung at you again, ducking just in time. You swept your leg out from under him, sending him to the ground so some members of your security team could hurriedly incapacitate him.

“No! Let him go!” Carol sobbed.

“Get Jim to his quarters and lock him in using the override!” You barked. You made a hysterical Carol sit down in the Captain’s chair and wiped her forehead. She started squirming in the seat and you kept trying to ask her questions, but she only called for Jim. Calling him…alpha?

“Uhura, call Bones and tell him what’s going on. Tell the same thing to Science Division.” You didn’t hear a response and looked over the top of the chair. “Nyota?” She was fanning herself, looking at Spock whose knuckles were blanched white as he gripped the console. “Sulu, can you leave your station for a minute and get Spock to his quarters? He might try to fight you but he seems okay right now.” He was the right person to ask. With what information you gathered, anyone who had any sort of partner was susceptible to what was going on. Luckily, his was back on Earth.

“What do you think’s going on?”

“I’m not sure, I’ll get those two back to their quarters and call medbay-”

“Sciences to Bridge.” The console beeped in and you sighed.

“This is Commander Kirk, report.” You demanded, already overwhelmed with what little you had dealt with in such a short amount of time.

“We’ve tested some samples from the planet and found something interesting. The water contains some sort of hormone that-“

“Drives people insane?”

“It establishes A/B/O dynamics within the population.”

“What the hell does that mean?” You asked incredulously.

“Alpha, Beta, and Omega dynamics, Commander.” Spock explained, his voice strained as Sulu led him to the elevator.

“No don’t take him!” Nyota got up to head towards the elevator but you jumped over to grab the back of her dress. “No! Alpha!” The doors closed and you let her go to nearly paw at them. Her dress was soaked through with sweat and a puddle of…something was forming underneath her.

“Medbay to bridge!” Leonard’s voice came through, sounding frustrated and tired.

“Bones, it’s (Y/N)! What’s going on?”

“I’ve got people trying to kill me down here on one side of the room and people crying on the other.”

“Are they all couples?”

“Most of them, their partners came and found them. I don’t think they liked me being near ‘em”

“We need to get everyone affected in their quarters, apparently the water establishes A/B/O dynamics.”

“My god.” He groaned. Normally, you would’ve laughed but you were highly stressed.

“I’ll send a security team down there to help out. Kirk out.” You explained before switching over to the ship wide intercom. “This is Security Commander Kirk, I need all personnel that drank water from Ni-bu to go to their private quarters immediately. If you do not follow orders you will be forcibly moved by security. I repeat, leave your stations and return to your quarters immediately.” You ended the call and grabbed Nyota and Carol. You got into the elevator and pulled out your communicator. “Kirk to Sciences division, please tell me there’s a cure for this thing.”

“We’ll have to go to K-7 for that, good thing is we’re not the only ones that have dealt with this. There was another planet like the one we were at that The Pegasus had to deal with.”

“Alright, I’ll tell Chek-“ You stopped and shook your head, knowing how flirtatious the Russian was. “I’ll get back up there and set the coordinates.” Pulling your friends along was like pulling two feisty Chihuahuas: they kept pulling away from you, kept yelping for their alphas, and at one point Carol actually bit you. Once that chore was done, you sprinted back up to the bridge to put in the coordinates and called for Sulu.

“Hikaru, you alright?”

“A little scraped up but I’m fine. Security’s doing a good job down here, some of your workers are affected by it though.”

“You think you can stay down there and help them out? I’m working on getting Bridge settled down.”

“You got it, but you owe me big time.”

“Next round’s on me when we get to K-7.” You chuckled before calling out. “Alright Chekov, let’s-“

“ENGINEERING TO BRIGE!” Jaylah screeched and your blood left your body. You had nearly forgotten about engineering. A large section of them went to Ni-bu to help fix some of the infrastructure and technology.

“Jaylah, are you alright?”

“Everyone down here is going crazy! Security is here but there is not nearly enough of them! I need help!”

“Where’s Scotty?”

“He went to go find Lieutenant Mira!” You groaned and grabbed Chekov by the back of his shirt while some other people from security grabbed most of the bridge.

“I’ll be down there as soon as I can, keep doing what you’re doing!”

XXXXXX

Hours later, the whole situation was defused with everyone who was affected locked in their rooms. Those who didn’t seem affected, the Betas, roamed around the halls like dead men walking. Sanitation swept and mopped the halls where puddles of “slick” had been left. You dragged your feet and nearly your entire body ached by the amount of times you had either been rammed into, hit, or bit by your crew mates. You saw Sulu and you gave each other a congratulatory hug.

“You owe me so much more than a round of drinks. This is not in my job description.” He mumbled, making you laugh.

“Thank you so much.” While most of your team had been okay, it had dwindled down severely by the time engineering was wrangled off. Scotty surprised you with how wily he was, giving you a run for your money. Thankfully, Jaylah helped you out and you threw him into his office.

Sulu pulled away and looked up and down at you, you had some cuts here and there and were bruised up. While it wasn’t the worst your body had faced, you’d still seen better days.

“Go to Medbay, Kirk. Your job is done for now and I’m sure McCoy could see a friendly face.” You smiled weakly and made your way down. When you came to the door it didn’t slide open so you knocked instead.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me! Lemme in!” After a few beeps on the PADD, the door slid open and you hurried in before it locked back behind you. You saw Leonard at his desk with a bottle of whiskey. His shirt was torn in some places and you could see the beginnings of a black eye. “Well, Doc, you look like you had an eventful day.” He snorted in response and poured you a glass.

“Please tell me we’ll get to K-7 soon.”

“We should be there by tomorrow morning. Sulu’s gonna get some rest before so he can get us in. I think the plan is for medbay to come to us to give us the hypospray.” You explained and took a large gulp, feeling the burn go down your throat. Leonard looked at the bruise on your jaw and you shrugged.

“It was Jim, nothing I can’t handle.”

“And the bites?”

“Carol, Scotty, and some others I can’t even remember.”

“Scotty bit you?”

“I had him in a choke hold.” You couldn’t help but laugh. “The female Alphas gave me a run for my money.”

“I think I can add this to the list of reasons why I hate space.” He finished up his drink and went to go grab a med kit to sterilize the wounds. You’d have to wait a couple of days to get the scars removed.

“Because it makes people unbelievably horny?” He laughed at that one, making you smile. “I’m glad that it wasn’t a free for all though, people were focused on either their partners or the people they’ve had a crush on.”

“My god I don’t even want to imagine what it would’ve been like if it’d been a free for all.”

“But I’m surprised, Len. You struck me as an Alpha.” You joked.

“I thought you’d be an Alpha.” He retorted. “You’re the one the one that fights everything.”

“I do not! I only fight when it’s needed!”

“Which is why you’re in here so often.” You finished off the whiskey and held out your left arm where one of the bites was. “You need to be more careful.”

“Hey, I didn’t know Carol would bite me!” You replied with a smile.

“I wonder why though? No one tried to bite me.”

“I’m the hotter one of the Kirk siblings?”

“Okay, I’m with you there.”

“I have to say, I like you a little roughed up. You look like an action hero.” He chuckled and knelt on the ground in front of you, antiseptic in hand.

You felt something when he touched you, something stirring within you. You tried to shake it off but you couldn’t as it grew. As he cleaned your wounds you could feel your body temperature rising and you became incredibly uncomfortable. As you looked at him you could see him tense up with his brows furrowing even more than they usually did and his grip on you tightening. You started squirming in your seat, your inner thighs becoming coated with something as you looked at Leonard. Oh god, was that slick? Once he was done with all of the open wounds he put his kit to the side shakily. You realized, even in your foggy state, he was trying to maintain composure. Your slick dripped down to the floor, making it hard for both of you to ignore. Now you realized what you both were and why neither of you had experienced symptoms all day. He was an Alpha, and you were his Omega.

“Leonard.” You whispered, nearly whined. He looked back at you and then to the bruise on your jaw. He brought his fingers to it and pressed on it gently, making you wince.

“You’re burning up.” He stated softly, his breathing picking up and voice gravelly. “You need to leave.”

When he said that, everything in your system freaked out. You leapt on him from the chair, wrapping your arms around his neck and straddling him. He caught you with his fingers against your ribs.

“Leonard, please.” You started kissing his neck, making his fingertips dig into you. He smelled so good, like something homey and warm with a splash of whiskey, and you couldn’t help but grind yourself against his hard cock. He let out a stuttered moan, his composure melting away as he felt your unbelievably wet pussy against him. “Alpha!” You cried softly.

That’s when it snapped away, Leonard picked you up and you wrapped your legs around him. He hurried over to his private office and you two fell onto his little cot, his lips smashing into yours. You moaned and arched your body into his, wanting as much contact as possible. His tongue slid into your mouth as you kicked your boots off and worked on his shirt.

“Off.” You whimpered. He sat back away from you and pulled down the zipper on your dress before sliding it off of you. You pulled his shirt off and pulled him back to you as he worked on the clasp of your bra.

“Such a pretty little ‘mega.” He slurred before laving his tongue down your bruised jaw, pain not even resonating with you at this point. He dropped your bra to the side, kissing and nipping down your neck and collarbone. His tongue circled around your nipple before sucking it into his mouth, kneading the other one with his hand. He was rougher than you thought he would be, teething at your pebbled nipple. You wondered if he was like this all the time. You rocked your hips up against him, wanting more than just that.

“Alpha, please!” You whined, making him chuckle. His hands drifted down the sides of your body to grip the elastic of your panties and pull them down your legs. He started pressing wet kisses down your stomach as his hands spread your legs to slot himself between them. You felt his breath against your pussy and you squirmed towards him, thighs enclosing around his head.

“God, you look-“ He didn’t even finish his sentence before burying his head in between your legs, his tongue circling your clit and tasting your slick. You arched your back and wove your fingers into his hair as an unruly moan escaped you. You felt your pussy growing even wetter and he groaned against you, the vibrations sending ripples through you. He sucked your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it.

“Fuck! Alpha!” He looked up at you as you pulled his hair. “Please, need your cock, need your cock!”

You’d never begged like this before and you were sure you wouldn’t have if you weren’t in this state. He crawled back up your body and you pulled his head down to yours to kiss him, tasting yourself. Your hands shot down to his work pants and you palmed his straining cock, making him gasp into your mouth. You shakily undid the button and zipper before pulling them down and seeing his erection bob against his stomach. Your breathing got even heavier as he helped pull his pants off the rest of the way, his shoes thudding as they hit the ground. You leaned up to kiss and nip at his neck as you stroked his cock, trying to lead him to your pussy.

“Shit darlin’, Omega-“ He cut himself off with a grown and pulled your hand away, taking his cock in his hand and rubbing it against your pussy to coat it in slick. You needed more. You locked your legs around his waist and pulled him as close to you as you possibly could. “You ready, my Omega?”

“Please, Alpha.” You whispered as he kissed your forehead. Then you felt his cock enter you slowly, stretching you perfectly and making you keen against him. He breathed out loudly and slowly as he seated himself fully inside of you, your fingernails digging into his back. The both of you stayed just like that for a moment or two, foreheads against each other and breathing heavily. He leaned down to kiss you and you swore you had never felt so loved and protected. You started rocking your hips against his and he took the hint, rolling his hips back so that he was almost completely out of you before rutting back in. “Yes!”

“Feel so good, ‘mega” He slurred against you, starting a slow rhythm. But still you needed more. Your head lolled to the side, exposing your neck to him and he leaned down to suck your pulse point into his mouth. He started thrusting faster into you, hitting that spot inside of you that made you let out high pitched noises into his ear. His pubic bone rubbed against your clit deliciously and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. You felt like you couldn’t even speak anymore as your pussy started tightening even more around him, making him quiver a little. He looked down at you and you brought your hands to his face and neck to caress him more as your body bounced with his thrusts.

“Close, Alpha.” You warned and he leaned down to kiss you. The coil in your lower belly tightened even more and one more perfectly angled thrust did you in, a puddle of slick soaking into the sheets as you felt tingling flood your body. You cried out into Leonard’s mouth as your entire body stiffened with the intensity of your orgasm. Leonard’s thrusts started becoming sloppy and his grip on your body tightened. As you rode your high, something in the back of your mind still wanted more.

“Cum inside me” His eyes widened before gripping your thighs to put your legs over his shoulder, leaning towards you so you were folded. You shrieked out and threw your head back at him suddenly being so unbelievably deep. His arms wrapped around you as you bit his tanned shoulder, making him gasp into your ear and his hips stuttered against yours. With one final deep thrust, you felt his hot cum coat your walls. You whimpered at your oversensitivity but finally felt satiated, almost complete in a way. His body went limp against yours but you didn’t loosen your grip, neither did he. Your fever went away and the slick seemed to have stopped, but you wanting him didn’t.

“Stay.”

XXXXXX

You knew it was early when you woke up, but you weren’t sure how much longer you had before you docked at K-7. You felt sore all over, sticky, and still beyond tired. However, your head was fairly clear and you weren’t feeling feverish. You looked behind you and saw Leonard still asleep with his arm around you. You felt your heart drop as you realized that the night before really did happen, it wasn’t some hormone ridden dream.

You’d always been attracted to Leonard, even if he was a bit neurotic (something you still adored about him). However, you wanted to respect Leonard as a friend, coworker, and best friend of Jim’s. You couldn’t imagine how Jim would feel if you and Leonard started dating. There was also always the dreaded what ifs. What if you two broke up? How would your friends and Jim deal with that? You were also in a high stakes job. What if you seriously got injured, or worse? What if he never even felt the same way?

Also, being completely overrun by foreign hormones was not how you want you two to get together anyway.

So, as you Kirks do, you decided to get out before more awkwardness could come or having to face the difficult consequences of your actions. Luckily, Leonard seemed to be a heavy sleeper but you could feel a fever beginning to creep on you again as his arm tried to tighten on you. You felt your heart ache as even the non-Omega part of you wanted to stay. But if you did, what happened wouldn’t be just between the two of you. Someone would walk in and know what had happened. You didn’t even bother putting on your underwear or shoes, just your red dress before unlocking the doors with his PADD and sneaking back to your quarters to lock yourself in. You were breathing harshly, the fever hitting you pretty hard, and you slid down your door to the ground.

“Computer, air conditioning at full capacity.” The fans whirred around you as you tried not to think of Leonard.

XXXXXX

Leonard woke up with a groan and stretched against his cot. He felt around his bed for you, but shot up when he didn’t find you. He looked around the room and saw that your underwear and boots were still in his room. He kind of wanted to laugh, thinking about how you probably bolted out of there. He thought you were probably embarrassed about the whole thing. A nagging part of his brain said it was probably because you regretted it entirely. He had always liked you, but for the sake of Jim he kept it more friendly and professional. Perhaps it was best to just forget about it. Better that than a repeat of another failed relationship.

“Dr. McCoy? This is Nurse Chapel from the K-7 research lab. We’re here to give you the hypospray.” He hurriedly put on his clothes and kicked your things under the cot before letting the nurse in.

XXXXXX

A couple of days later, you hurried to the bridge to return some reports of the events to Jim. You had avoided medbay like the plague and unbeknownst to you, a couple of friends took notice. As you handed the PADD to Jim, he looked at your healing jaw and cringed once again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, asshole, you say it every time you see me.” You chided playfully. He looked at the rest of the scars left on your body from the others and raised an eyebrow at you.

“You can probably get those taken care of, y’know?”

“I know, I just haven’t found the time with writing this shit up.” You replied and he chuckled, waving you away. You smoothed out your skirt and went to the elevator, but Sulu slid in before the doors closed.

“Oh hey! What’s up?”

“What’s up with you? You always get your scars fixed up and Uhura knows for a fact that you’ve had enough time.”

“Are you two gossiping behind my back?” You replied and he crossed his arms at his chest. “Maybe I want to keep the scars.”

“You want to keep scars in the shape of bite marks?” He replied flatly and you shrugged. The doors opened again and He grabbed your arm. “That’s it, I’m taking you to medbay.”

“No!” You panicked and pulled away from him.

“What in the world’s going on?” He asked incredulously, and you looked around. “Did something happen the day we went to Ni-bu?” You opened your mouth but quickly shut it.

“I’ll tell you what happened, just not here.”

“C’mon!” He pulled you into a nearby closet and locked the door behind him. You paced what little you could in the space and he sighed. “Would you just tell me?”

“I thought I was okay. I didn’t have any of the symptoms so I thought I was a Beta. After everything settled down I went to medbay like you told me to get my cuts cleaned up.” Sulu quickly put two and two together, especially after days of suspicion.

“You weren’t a Beta and neither was he.” You shook your head. “And, lemme guess, you left in the morning?”

“I didn’t know what else to do.” You nearly whispered. “I fucked up.”

“Yeah, you did. Kirk, you gotta fix this. You have to talk to him. You can’t avoid medbay forever.”

“I can try.”

“Kirk.”

“I know you’re right! I just don’t know what to do.” He wrapped an arm around you and you leaned into him.

“Just go in there.”

XXXXXX

Leonard was reading from his PADD in his quarters when he heard a knock on the door. He put it down on his bedside table before letting it open and saw you. His black eye was healing nicely, but he winced when he widened them in surprise.

“Uh, hey.” You started, already wanting to punch yourself.

“Hey.”

Fuck, this was awkward.

“Can I come in?” He stood to the side and you stepped in, the door closing behind you.

“If you’re here for your clothes and boots there under my cot in my office.”

Ouch.

“Thanks but that’s not why I’m here.” You stood there, trying to keep from fidgeting. “I wanted to talk about what happened, and before you say anything I know I shoulda stayed. I wanted to stay but-“ You broke off and sat down in his arm chair. You felt like if you kept standing then you’d pass out.

“But what? I’ve been wonderin’ why you didn’t stay, myself.” He said and you nodded.

“And I shouldn’t have done that to you.” You looked down at your clasped hands and tried to swallow the nervousness radiating in your body. “Leonard, I’ve always liked you. I’ve always been attracted to you.” You didn’t see the surprised look that crossed his face. “But I was always afraid of what would happen. I mean, you know me and Jim: we’re both terrified of relationships and I know that you’re wary of them after how things went in your marriage. I’ve always wanted to respect that.” You didn’t realize you had started to ramble. “And Jim is another thing! That ass is always so protective over me and you’re his best friend! That’s a conundrum just for him! Does he kick your ass or lock me in my cabin or both?! Not to mention we’re in space and it’s probably one of the most dangerous places ever!” You finally looked at him and saw him chuckling, hiding his face behind his hand. “Why the hell are you laughing? I’m pouring my heart out here!”

“Because you sound like me, dammit!” He smiled and you stared at him incredulously. “Go on, finish up. I gotta talk some time.” You shook your head at him and stood up.

“Fine, you want me to finish? I didn’t want to wake up and hear you talk about how it was a mistake because just thinking about that fucking kills me. I wanted it to happen, maybe not like that but I wanted…something like that to happen. There, I’m done.” You stood there and waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. “Well you said you had to talk.” You looked back up at him expectantly and his eyes had softened, he wasn’t smiling anymore.

“I didn’t know you felt that way and...as much as I didn’t think that this is the way things would happen, I don’t regret that it did. I’ve wanted to be with you for so long but everything’s complicated. But I wanna give it a shot because I can’t imagine not being with you.” Tears welled in your eyes at his confession and you threw yourself at him, taking in his warmth.

“I want to be with you, Len.”

“As long as you promise you won’t run away again, darlin’.” You smiled up at him and kissed him softly.

“I promise…Alpha.” He stiffened against you and you laughed. He smiled and captured your lips in his, holding you tightly against him. “You think you could get rid of my scars first?” You squealed as he picked you up and you wrapped your legs around him.

You two would just have to deal with everything else later.

#leonard mccoy x reader #Leonard McCoy #star trek #Star Trek Fanfiction #star trek aos #star trek TOS

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melodious-madrigals · 4 years ago

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the last shred of truth (in the lost myth of true love)

Pairing: wondertrev Rating: T Word Count: 4277 Tags: amnesia!fic, hurt/comfort, happy ending, steve and diana being soft for each other Summary: When Diana wakes up alone in a hospital room with no memory of who she is or how she got there, she panics. But even though she doesn't remember anyone, there's someone who seems fundamentally familiar... AKA: the "i may have amnesia but i trust you implicitly" trope, wondertrev edition

Read it below the cut or on [AO3].

***

Notes: @svgurl410 this fic is Your Fault™ (affectionate) because you posted a thing about the amnesia trope and WHOOPS my hand slipped, so, uh, due to the stars aligning for some very convenient timing, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

***

She wakes up in a too-sterile room, white and soundproofed and empty, but for her and her bed and a battery of too-sterile machines, all hooked up to her.

The first thing she takes in is that everything hurts. Ache blooms down her body and her head feels like it’s about to split open.

She tries to lift a hand to knead away the pain, and that’s how she discovers thing number two: she is restrained here, in this strange place, by herself. Strapped to the bed with no recollection of where she is or how she got here.

Or, for that matter, her own name.

Normal hospitals don’t look like this, she thinks. Not that she can remember ever being in one, but she’s got the vague impression that there are usually windows, or people, or doors that look like they don’t require a top-secret clearance to exit through.

She’s in trouble, then; maybe the people tying her down are the reason for her faulty memory. (Retrograde amnesia, supplies a tiny voice in her brain that she doesn’t have time to examine.)

All she knows is that she needs to figure out how to get out. If she can’t remember anything, then she can’t rely on there being anyone who would help her out, which means she needs to rely on herself and only herself.

She struggles against the bindings—they’re tight, well-constructed, but she thinks she feels some give. With a little extra effort, she pulls, and low and behold, yanks the straps straight out of their holdings.

So she’s strong, then. Good to know.

She detaches her legs next, and is partway through unhooking herself from the plethora of machines when two doctors—scientists?—beep themselves into the room.

“Code yellow, she’s awake,” says one of them into a radio.

“Miss, you need to lay back down,” says the other.

“Where am I? What’s going on?”

“You’ve been gravely injured. You need to stay calm.”

The first one is still talking into the radio. “—and the patient is agitated. We need to put her on another macro dose of the sedative,” he adds to his colleague.

“No!” She wants to know what’s going on, not be drugged back into oblivion.

A frenzied swipe of her arm sends the man flying into the padded wall with a crunch that she’d feel bad about if there wasn’t panic rising in her throat.

Three more personnel, all bigger than she is, which is saying something, rush into the room and she leans back into a defensive stance until—

“Wait!” says a new male voice, and a tall, well-dressed man with the remnants of a cut over his eyebrow steps into the room. The orderlies stop their forward motion, but they don’t leave, and she’s scanning them for signs of weakness before she’s even aware she’s doing it.

“Diana, you need to calm down.”

Her attention snaps to the new man, and she eyes him warily. “Who are you? How do you know me? Where am I?”

“You don’t remember me?” He seems hurt when she shakes her head. “You’re at a hospital facility. You took a bad blow to the head, and now you’re in recovery.”

That would make sense, except, wait— “A head wound requires being tied down?”

“It was for your safety and theirs.”

“It seems more the thing you would do to a prisoner.”

“You’re safe here.” The man catches her hand as she tries to sidestep away from his advance. “Diana, you can trust me.”

There’s half a beat as she considers, where he makes eye contact, looks at her imploringly—

—but nothing good ever comes of people telling you to trust them, of this she’s sure, and when his grip tightens almost imperceptibly as he shifts, at the same time that one of the orderlies off to the side flinches forward, she throws him off, breaking his grasp and sending him flying into the hospital bed and related machinery.

The orderlies advance, but she’s properly panicked, now, desperate to get out of here, find something—anything—familiar, and it’s muscle memory that takes over, dodging around them and hurling them to the ground, blows strong enough to make sure they don’t get back up without hurting them too badly.

She’s out in the corridor when an alarm starts blaring, sending loud noises and flashing lights through the hallway that make her already-splitting headache throb as more people rush at her. Most seem to be technicians of some sort, but two are security guards carrying guns.

She doesn’t know how she knows how to fight—can’t even confirm with herself that her name is Diana—but she knows being here is not the answer and sets to work, lashing out at each successive wave of people.

As she’s dispatching with the last of this group, she hears a new set of voices and almost starts to cry—will these people stop at nothing to keep her locked up?

“—has gone crazy!”

“What the hell did you do to her?” At the sound of this newest shouting voice, another man’s, she counterintuitively feels her muscles involuntarily relax a little.

She turns around, dropping the last of her would-be attackers just as the man to whom the voice belongs skids around the corner and comes to a stop in front of her.

He is beautiful: dirty blonde hair and an angular jaw and striking blue eyes that have fixed themselves on her. There is fear in them, and anger, but it is not the same fear or anger of the scientists holding her in this place. She has the sudden, inexplicable thought that it might be for her rather than of her. Indeed, the second their eyes meet, she notices him deflate, relief evident in the lines of his body.

She sees him, and she feels—calm. He is familiar, somehow, even if her mind can’t pull him up.

“Diana,” he says, and the shape of her name in his mouth is a balm, like honey drizzled in tea or a whiff of lavender on the breeze under a hot summer sun.

Time dilates a little, as she drinks in the sight of him, whispers flitting in the corners of her brain that she can’t quite catch.

She takes half a step forward and sees the owner of the first angry voice fling an arm out in front of the man in warning.

“Stay back, Agent Trevor. She’s disoriented and extremely dangerous.”

“You’ve done more than enough already, and I’d thank you to stay out of it.” The man pushes the arm away and steps towards her, slowly, telegraphing the move before it happens. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here, Angel.”

Like the chiming of midday bells, a dozen discordant memories of him saying Angel like that flicker through her brain before fading back into foggy nothing. She’s moved instinctually, before her brain has time to approve the motion, and then she’s in his arms, holding tight.

Home, her brain supplies, and she feels her cheeks getting damp from silent tears that she does her best to blink away.

“Hey, I’m here,” the man says, pulling back just enough to swipe the moisture away. “I know you must be scared right now, but you’re going to be okay.”

“I don’t know why I’m here or what’s happening,” she admits, whispering into his ear. “I just want to get out of here.”

Before he can reply, another wave of security floods the hallway, and the man reacts accordingly, twisting out of her arms and nudging her behind him.

“Everybody, stand down,” he commands.

The alarm stops, but the personnel don’t move and there are several holding what look like big-game tranquilizer guns.

“They’re technically friendlies,” he says over his shoulder to her, ��even though they’re doing a shit job of it right now. Everyone, back off.”

Finally, the woman he appeared with nods, and with a wave of her hand, people start to retreat back down the corridor.

“You could convince her to stay, Agent Trevor,” the woman says, somewhere between imploring and accusatory.

“Maybe,” the man agrees. “But I won’t.”

“Think of her treatment. Be reasonable—”

“I am.” His voice brooks no refusal, and she’s strangely relieved. “After the way you’ve bungled this, she isn’t going to be comfortable here and I’m not making her stay. She wants to leave, so we’re leaving.”

“Her memory—” The woman’s face is pinched, like she’s swallowed half a lemon.

“Will not be improved by you poking at her. Diana?” He turns to her, offering her his hand, and she slips her own into it without question, letting his guide her down the hallway.

“Oh,” he says, over his shoulder, “and tell Bruce to expect my call.”

The parking lot outside is just asphalt and concrete, but it’s a relief to be out of the building and in the sun.

“I’m taking you to one of our houses,” the man says. “You’ve been there before, and you liked it.”

“Anything’s better than that lab.”

Something in his jaw ticks, and he nods before sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Thank you, Agent Trevor,” says Diana, once they’re speeding away from that awful facility. The way he flinches tells her it’s a mistake, somehow.

Her brow furrows. “Is that not your name? I thought I heard them call you that, but I don’t know your name. I feel like I must know you, but I can’t remember. I’m sorry.”

The man next to her takes a deep breath. “You remember the important things,” he says reassuringly.

“I don’t see how that can possibly be true.” She can’t remember a single name or face, or any of the events that precipitated the memory loss.

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he reaches out and takes her hand, ever so gently, and slow enough that she could pull away. (She finds she doesn’t want to.)

“You remember how I make you feel, otherwise you wouldn’t have come with me,” he says finally. “The name stuff is a bit trivial compared to that.”

“Still,” she says, frustrated.

“Steve,” he relents. “My name is Steve Trevor.”

“Steve.” She turns the name over on her tongue and sees his mouth quirk out of the corner of her eye. Then he sighs.

“We’re about three hours away from the safe house. There’s plenty of time for a nap, and I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“No, the copilot’s in charge of the music,” Diana says automatically, surprising herself. Beside her, Steve glances her way, a bemused look on his face. In her seat, Diana just sags. “I have no idea why I said that. I’m exhausted.”

“You said that because it’s our road trip rule,” Steve explains gently, “but I think today calls for an exception. Get some sleep.”

She nods and lets her eyes flutter shut. Her eyelids have been heavy since she woke up the first time, but it’s only now she feels comfortable doing something about it. She’s asleep before they hit the next mile-marker.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she says, leaning in for a kiss that Steve is only too happy to provide.

“The hazards of loving someone who’s constantly saving the world,” Steve jokes.

“Alas, it was only a museum trade agreement this time.”

“As long as no artifacts were harmed in the process.”

“No, none at all,” Diana says, grinning. “What smells so delicious?”

“It’s—”

Her phone, on the Do Not Disturb setting that only Steve and the Justice League line can get through, pings angrily.

“Damn, I have to go.” She hands him her phone so he can read the sitrep from Alfred.

“I’d come with, but I have the meeting with Waller tomorrow.”

“I know,” says Diana ruefully. “It’s not worth an eight-hour flight for you. I should be home by tomorrow evening, anyways. It looks pretty standard.”

“Be careful.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“You are absolutely not. That’s why I’m telling you now.”

She laughs and kisses him. “Don’t forget to buy new basil plants again on the way home from the market.”

He huffs good-naturedly and rolls his eyes. “Diana—”

“Diana.”

She jolts upright, still looking at Steve’s face, but in a different time and place. She tries to hold on to the memory, but it filters away like the tide receding on a beach, out of her grasp before she can catch onto its ephemeral quality. When she tries to chase it, pain stabs through her head.

“Diana, are you okay?”

“Fine,” she says, wincing.

He looks unconvinced but doesn’t press. “We’re here.”

It’s a little cottage in a secluded wooded area, and it feels welcoming even from the outside.

“Is this where I live?” she asks, trying to figure out if this is the type of place she would want to live, as he unlocks the door and ushers her in.

“No, you mostly use this house when you come to the US for long business trips,” Steve replies. “You live in Paris, most of the year.”

Her brain conjures up an image of the Eiffel Tower, but it doesn’t feel like hers, just something clinical that she knows about Paris. She finds she also knows French, though once again, she doesn’t remember learning.

“I figured we could stay here a few days to see if your memory comes back on its own. If not, maybe going home will help.” He pauses. “Is that okay with you?”

“It sounds reasonable. I don’t—I don’t really know how to make my memory come back, though.”

“I don’t think there’s an established protocol for that,” Steve says, cracking a smile. “Except to make yourself comfortable and try not to stress too much.”

They stand there, staring at each other for a moment, and she gets the intense, sudden urge to kiss him. To see if that would help, like some sort of fairy tale. She’s halfway towards working up the nerve to close the distance between them when Steve clears his throat.

“You should take the shower first,” he says. “I know you hate the smell of hospital.”

As soon as he says it, she knows it’s true.

“Will you answer my questions after?”

“As best I can, yeah.”

How long she stands under the pounding hot water, she’s not entirely sure, but it feels good. Her muscles relax, and she closes her eyes, letting the water stream over her body.

A phantom touch on her shoulder, gentle but blazing with heat, and eyes to match, and the sudden feel of cold tile against her back—

—her eyes fly open, and she gasps, scrabbling to chase the feeling, one she’s sure is a memory, but the harder she tries to catch it, the more painful the stabbing sensation in her head becomes, and she’s forced to give up, tired and frustrated.

When she finally emerges from the bathroom, hair still damp and curling, it’s to find Steve finishing a call. Even as he’s occupied on the phone, she sees him gravitate towards her and then consciously stop, hovering a few meters away.

“I have to go. We’ll talk later,” he says tersely, and hangs up. Then to her, “That was Bruce.”

He says it like the name should mean something to her, but it doesn’t, and she shrugs helplessly.

Steve sighs. “Someone you work with,” he explains. “You encountered him earlier. Sent him flying clean across the room.”

She feels a stab of guilt—she’d sent a number of people flying across the room in her desperation, and she hopes that if he’s her colleague, he’s okay and that she’ll be able to properly apologize. Until then, “The one in the pretentious suit?” she clarifies.

It startles a laugh out of Steve—fluttering white curtains and mischievous bright blue eyes and that laugh, warm and infectious, snatched away in a flicker of pain—who just says, “That’s the one.”

She nods once, and then looks around, unsure. “Can you tell me why I’m like this? What happened?”

“Let me put the kettle on,” says Steve. “It might take a while.”

He tells her about the extent of her abilities, surprising in the abstract, and yet not so much when she thinks about the thrum that ignited in her veins when she felt like people were closing in on her. He tells her about the mission she left for, last night, that was pressing but apparently standard enough in scope. He tells her that something went wrong, that something powerful and unidentified was used to deal her a blow to the head, that she was unconscious for eight hours, that he got there as fast as he could but not soon enough because transatlantic flights take time, even when you’re the pilot on a requisitioned jet. He tells her that the explanation that he was given was that she’d been convulsing in her sleep, and really had been restrained only to prevent injury to the attending doctors. He tells her that the doctors—who never really had a chance to examine her, but for a single CT scan while she was unconscious, and who have no precedent since her physiology is so different than any other being on Earth—aren’t sure whether her memories will return or not. (One of them said to give it a few days; the other wasn’t optimistic at all, based on the scans.)

Through it all, he barely references himself, but she can see the contours of him woven in: he has intimate knowledge of the things she can do, and the ways in which she uses them. He was with her when she was called away on the mission; indeed, he is clearly with her often. He speaks about her with delicate care and a small smile on his face, and she can’t help but think that given the chance, she would probably talk about him the same way.

“And you?” she prompts finally, when he’s done, when the tea has long since gone cold and dinner is prepped and in the oven.

“Me?” says Steve. “What about me?”

“You’re clearly important to me. I trust you, somehow. But you’ve said almost nothing about yourself, and I’m not quite sure how you fit in.”

“I guess it wasn’t relevant.”

It’s a bullshit answer, and they both know it.

“I love you.” It’s a question phrased as a statement, but Steve has the uncanny ability of hearing it just as she meant it.

“Yes.”

“And you love me.”

“Yes.”

It confirms everything she heard in the subtext of his words, his tone. They’re something, something powerful, and she’s gone and thrown a wrench in it by forgetting everything about him, about them. The absence plagues her, but she can barely imagine the weight he must feel at the loss of their history, of being the only one to carry it. For the first time, she really contemplates the implications of the gaping holes in her mind.

“What happens if I never get my memories back like the doctors said?”

Steve scuffs a hand over his face, the only overt sign so far that he’s feeling the stress of the situation.

“Well, I’ll go on loving you all the same, and you can decide whether you still love me.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Love isn’t simple, Diana, but loving you is the easiest thing in the world. I’ll love you no matter what happens, and no matter what you decide when it does.”

She regards him for a moment. Now that she’s looking, she thinks she can see lines of tension in his body. He’s good at covering it up, but there’s worry there. Then the understanding hits.

“You’d let me go.”

His eyes fall shut, and she thinks maybe it’s so she can’t try to read them. It doesn’t matter: she can already see that he’s pushing down his pain to put her first, a clear character sketch if she ever saw one.

“Yeah.”

That one word, it makes her heart break for him.

“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’d like to.” He looks up at her, confusion dotting his features. “Go on loving you, that is,” she clarifies, and is rewarded by an absolutely incandescent grin.

“Well, that’s neat.”

The sacredness of the moment is shattered by the insistent dinging of the oven timer, signaling that dinner is ready, and Steve ducks his head, breaking eye contact as he gets up to retrieve the food.

They’re not very talkative for the rest of the evening, but even though the mood is heavy, the silence is not uncomfortable. There is an unspoken agreement that they can deal with the ramifications of the day tomorrow since it’s been such a long and stressful day for them both.

The house is small, one bedroom only, and given the conversation they had earlier, she just assumes that they’ll share the bed, but Steve, apparently, does not seem to share that assessment, because when he leaves the bathroom, he picks up the spare blanket off the foot of the bed and heads for the door.

“You could stay,” she says, so soft she’s not sure for a second if he even heard.

“Are you sure?”

“I feel better when you’re close by,” she admits into the darkness, and a moment later, she feels the bed dip next to her as he slips under the covers.

Her hand finds his under the duvet, and she links their fingers together. She wants so badly to remember him properly, but every time she pushes, there’s a searing pain that drives its way through her skull.

“Goodnight, Diana.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

It takes surprisingly little to drift away on the current of sleep.

The air is acrid, thick with smoke and gunpowder. She’s been here before; she knows this place. It is dark, but there are fires burning all around and the thunder of bombs, lighting up the horizon.

The earth shakes somewhere close by.

Then there’s Steve, in front of her, telling her he loves her, that he wishes they had more time. She doesn’t understand; as far as she can tell, he’s young and healthy. They have time, don’t they?

Time fuzzes and suddenly she’s staring at the sky, and a plane that she knows to be carrying Steve explodes, high above her in the cold dark air.

“NO!”

This can’t be how it ends. He can’t leave her like this. Think, Diana, she tells herself. The pain in her head is unbearable, but it is nothing compared to the one in her heart. If she can only push through, maybe she won’t have to feel this way anymore. Maybe she can change the ending. Maybe they’ll have more time.

…a cerulean ocean, and a diving plane.

…the soft shimmer of snow in lanternlight.

…a plane exploding high overhead.

…the weight of arms, too long gone and miraculously here, enfolding her.

…dancing in the late-night glow of streetlamps on a bridge over the Seine.

A thousand tiny flashes, all swirling together as her past and present unfold before her, and there at the heart—

“Steve!”

Diana sits up with a gasp, struggling for air as her brain tries to sort through the influx of information that it suddenly has access to once more. It’s all out of order and too much at once, but it’s there.

A hand on her shoulder tells her that Steve’s woken up too, and she slumps back against him, relishing the way he rearranges his arm so that she��ll be more comfortable.

“Did you remember the basil plants this time?” Diana asks, exhausted.

He lets out a little huff. “I was a little busy, what with—” She feels him stiffen under her, the whole of his body silently asking the question that his mouth isn’t. “Diana?” he manages, hesitantly.

She twists a little in his arms so that she can see his face. “I’m so sorry I forgot you.”

Everything in him relaxes. “You didn’t; not really.”

“No,” she corrects, “I think it would be impossible to forget you entirely. You’re written in my soul.”

He chokes a little at that, squeezes her closer, shifting just enough so that he can rest his forehead against hers.

“I’m glad you’re back, Angel.”

Diana kisses him softly, feels the dampness on his cheeks. “Oh, my love. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he insists.

“No, but I ache for what you must have felt, and yet you handled it all so calmly.”

“Shit, Diana, I was terrified,” Steve admits, somehow managing to pull her even closer, like he’s scared she might physically disappear, too. “It was only a day, but it felt like a century. I mean, we’ve had some pretty good times, and I didn’t want to be the only guardian of those memories.”

“That will never happen.”

“You can’t know that,” he says helplessly.

“I can. We always find our way back to each other, my love. I believe in us.”

“And you say I’m the one that spouts the romantic lines.”

“You love it.”

“I do.” He kisses her, soft and slow, and any quip she might have had flies directly out of her head in favor of this feeling.

“Don’t forget me between now and tomorrow,” Steve whispers later as they drowse next to each other.

“I wouldn’t even dream of it,” Diana promises, tucking her face back into the juncture between his shoulder and neck, before falling asleep herself.

(She doesn’t—her promises, after all, are unbreakable.)

***

#wondertrev #wondertrev fic #wonder woman #diana prince #steve trevor #Diana x Steve #lenci writes

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lokis-little-kitten · 4 years ago

Text

Teaching Assistant 13

When you wake up it is the next morning. You have been transferred to a recovery room. It is quite spacious and light. Your bag and other belongings laid on a table next to your bed. An IV was in your right arm connected to a bag of fluid.

You look down and notice your left shoulder is all bandaged up. You can see some angry bruises peek out from under it. The room was awfully quiet and you felt anxious. You wanted to know what was going on. You press the call button and wait for a nurse to come and take a look at you.

A young girl walks in with a large smile on her face when she sees you. She has short black hair and a radiant smile. She seems South Asian. She takes a look at the machines on your bedside as she starts to ask questions.

“Hello. I’m Maya. How are you feeling?” You try to shrug but because of your bandaged up shoulder you can’t.

“Okay, I think. I feel really tired…” The nurse nods and writes it down on the notepad she carries with her.

“That is completely normal. You are on some really strong pain meds. The doctor will come and take a look at you in a little bit. Is there anything I can do?” You look around the room and then lock in on your bag.

“My phone. Can you plug it in so I can charge it? There should be a charger on my bag.” Maya nods and checks your bag. She pulls out the cord and your phone. She plugs it in and lays the phone on your lap. You quickly thank her.

“Anything else?”

You think for a second before you remember. You’re surprised you can. You usually try to forget this. “I have an appointment with Doctor Eric Wilson here at 4… Can you let him know I had an accident?” She assures you that she will and then leaves again.

When she leaves you quickly turn on your phone. A few spam emails pop up on the screen and a few texts. One from Dimitri and a few from Loki. You first open the one from Dimitri but as you do he calls you. You pick up and put the phone on speaker.

“Hey, you missed the first lesson. Are you alright,” he asks in a worried tone. There is some buzzing behind him. He is clearly in between classes.

“I had an accident, last night. I’m in the hospital,” you croak out. Your throat is as dry as sandpaper.

“Seriously? I’ll come right away,” he tells you and you hear him starting to walk faster to call in sick.

“Thank you,” you reply. Dimitri tells you to sit tight and that he will be there shortly. You hang up and then check Loki’s texts.

Daddyi.

Did you get home safe?

Darling?

Answer me!

Where are you?

Why aren’t you in my class?

You are in so much trouble.

Please answer me. I’m worried. Did I do something wrong? Did something happen?

Answer me or I’m coming to your flat!

The last message was only sent a few minutes ago. Quickly you call Loki up as well but he doesn’t pick up. He would probably be teaching a class right now. You leave him a voice note explaining your situation and tell him not to worry.

After that your doctor did come in and check up on you for a moment. She explained what they did in the surgery and what was going to happen afterwards. You came out reasonably unscratched for a motorcycle accident. You had a broken collarbone, a bruised rib and a small head wound. They did want to do a brain scan to make sure there was no other damage done.

You would have to receive a lot of physical therapy for it to heal properly. You would also have to wear a sling the next few weeks. The doctor asked you once again if she could call someone for you. You told her Dimitri was on his way.

A few minutes later he indeed arrived. He looked rather pale when he walked in. It must have been a bit of a worrying sight. You were in a very oversized hospital gown and all alone in the rather empty and sterile room. He sat down on the bed with you and grabbed your hand.

“How are you, babe?” He looks at you with large puppy eyes.

“I’m alright. The painkillers do their job.” You give him a short smile and then take a deep breath. You tell him you still need a brain scan and that you need to wear a sling the next few weeks. Dimitri offers to get you some stuff from home, like your laptop, clothes and other things.

When he leaves you go for the brain scan, which is frightening. The room was dark and the machine was scary. You had to lay still as the machine was scanning you. You were very happy when you got out of it.

Once back in your room Loki still hasn't replied or even seen your messages. Dimitri returned with some of your stuff. You watch a bit of a movie until he is sent out as well. You take a short nap since the anesthetic made you drowsy.

Around four someone knocks on your door. When you look who it is you are surprised it is Eric. He is the psychiatrist treating you for your eating disorder and anxiety. He was absolutely wonderful. You are so lucky to have found him! He takes a chair and sits down next to your bed.

“Hey there,” he smiles as he takes off his official doctor's coat. “You didn’t think I would skip out on you only because of a little motorcycle accident.” He gives you a funny smirk that manages to make you laugh.

“Of course not. I think I’d have to actually pass away to skip an appointment.” Eric chuckles a bit and then opens his file.

“So, how are you in regards to the accident,” he asks in a serious tone. You think for a moment and want to sit up but your shoulder prevents you from doing so. You slumb back into the pillows before replying.

“This is gonna sound strange, but I’m alright. I don’t know if it’s just the shock but I sort of needed this…” As the words leave your mouth you feel crazy. The brain scan came back clear but maybe they missed something.

“You needed a near death experience,” the psychiatrist asks you as he changes his sitting position. There is a thin frown upon his forehead.

“Yes… in a way. I tried to stay here, to stay awake. I was actively finding ways to stay here and to help the doctors. A few months ago I would have let myself drift off but I didn’t. I wanted to live,” you explain.

It was true. A few months back when you were deep in your eating disorder and filled with anxiety you had at some point nearly died. You didn’t care whether you lived or died. You just wanted your suffering to be over. Now, after some of the hardest months of your life it changed. You wanted to live. You wanted to make the most of it. You wanted to study, to graduate and make something of yourself. It was a big difference and the accident reminded you of that.

“You should be proud of yourself,” Eric agreed, “that is a big change. Although, you should not need a near death experience every time to remind you of that.” The last bit he says as a joke but it’s tinted with seriousness.

When the session is slowly coming to an end your phone rings. The screen was still upwards and the words ‘DADDY’ appeared largely on the screen. Doctor Eric looks at the phone as you quickly click it away. You look up at his confused face and wait for him to say something.

“I thought you didn’t talk to your father anymore,” he asks with suspicion written all over his face. He knows very well you haven’t talked to him since you were ten.

“I’m not,” you reply and avert your eyes from him. Loki could not have called on a worse moment. You do not want to talk about your love/sex life with your psychiatrist. The fact that this is illegal doesn’t help.

“So you’re seeing someone. Why didn’t you tell me,” he asks in a serious tone before switching to dramatics. “I thought we told each other everything.” He makes some fake crying noises and slowly slides from his chair. You can’t help but chuckle at the ethics.

“It’s still pretty new. I just don’t feel like talking about it. I didn’t think it was important,” you say, hoping Eric will stop questioning. He struggles back onto his chair and gives you a serious look. As he does you have to hang up another call from Loki.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it with an old dude like me, but I do feel like we should talk about it. You have never had a good example of relationships and you are in treatment for an eating disorder, depression and anxiety. This could turn toxic if you’re not careful.” You just stare at your therapist for a second.

“Well thank you for listing all that,” you mutter as you slide down in your bed a little more. Eric gives you an unimpressed look. “But I guess you make a point. Next session,” you suggest as you look at the clock. Your hour is over. Eric luckily agrees and then leaves the room.

When he leaves you quickly call Loki back. He answers rather fast and distressed this time. A plethora of questions immediately roll off his tongue. You quickly stop him halfway.

“Loki, I’m alright. Sorry I didn’t pick up. I was with a doctor.” You can hear him sigh in relief.

“I was so worried when I didn’t hear from you and you didn’t show up today. I knew I should have driven you home last night!” You stop him again before he starts to ramble again.

“It’s not your fault. There was a broken traffic light.”

“How are you feeling? Can I come over?”

“I’m alright. On a lot of painkillers. I don’t think you should. It would be suspicious. The doctors told me I will be discharged soon. I’ll see you then.” Loki doesn’t like the idea of you being in the hospital all alone but eventually agrees. You talk a little longer until Loki has to go home from the university.

The next two days pass by slowly. Dimitri comes by in the afternoon but the rest is rather boring. When you are finally discharged you are over the moon. Dimitri came and picked you up. He brought you home, did some meal prepping since your left arm was completely useless.

He stays over the night and helps you in the morning to figure things out. Getting dressed was absolute hell. Luckily the hospital had given you some painkillers for your arm and bruised ribs. Dimitri is also nice enough to carry your bag into college.

It was difficult to get through Loki’s class. You were craving one of his hugs and to just talk to him for a moment. You wanted to dig your nose in his neck and take in his scent. When class is finally over Loki tells you to stay behind.

You walk up to him when students leave the classroom. He starts to talk to you about work you missed and whether you would have to catch it up. Once everyone is gone Loki rushes to the door, closes it and turns the lock. He pulls down the curtain that allows you to look into the room.

When the coast is finally clear Loki immediately pulls you in for a kiss. He holds both his hands on your cheeks as he does so. You lay your good hand on his shoulder and pull him nice and close to you. When he let's go you press your body against his. You press your head in the crook up of his neck. Loki puts his arms around you in return as gently as he can. One arm he moves to your head and gently cradles it.

“I’m so happy you’re okay,” he mumbles before kissing your hair. You don’t reply but just place a gentle kiss on his soft skin.

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ladylynse · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 6 [FF | AO3] of Down the Rabbit Hole: Wirt had heard a lot of stories about college, but somehow, he still wasn’t prepared for one of his roommate’s crazy friends to smuggle a hatchet into their dorm room.

beginning | previous

-|-

Toby had hung up without giving more of an explanation, but from the look in Wendy’s eyes, Wirt knew she didn’t need one.

“You grab the kit from the kitchen,” Jazz said. “I’ll get the one from under my bed. Danny, there’s one in the top drawer under the bathroom sink.”

“On it,” he said, not questioning why they would possibly think they’d need three first aid kits between the two of them.

When they were all back with the kits and Wendy was pulling on her shoes, Wirt saw Danny glance at Jazz and Jazz’s answering nod. “Wirt and I can catch up,” she said without even looking at him for confirmation even though they were all gathered near the doorway now. “Wendy?”

Wendy paused long enough to look at Danny. “If it’s safe for me, then yes.”

“You’ll be fine,” Danny said, handing Wendy the other two first aid kits when she finished getting her shoes on. She cradled them against her chest as he picked her up with ease—how the heck was he so strong when he looked so slight?—and then they vanished.

Just like Danny had back in the library.

“H…how—?” Wirt could see Danny being able to do that with himself. Lab accident. Okay. Fine. But with Wendy?

They hadn’t even opened a window, let alone a door, but Wirt knew they were already gone.

“Lab accident,” Jazz said, as if that explained everything. “That was your next show of proof, by the way. Now come on. They’ll be there by the time we get out the door at this rate.”

“When…when you talked about Danny flying in earlier,” Wirt said as Jazz shooed him out the door and locked it behind them, “was that supposed to be literal?”

“I would’ve meant it literally even if I had meant on a plane,” she said, which Wirt supposed was answer enough. He just….

“What else can your brother do?”

Jazz was already heading down the stairs, but she glanced back without missing a step. “How much research did you do on Amity Park?”

“Um….”

“Just give me the cliffnotes version.”

“It’s a nice place to live?”

“I’m serious.”

“Ghosts attacks are common.”

Jazz made an irritated noise and started moving faster, forcing Wirt to take the stairs two at a time to keep up with her. “Read anything about our town’s protector?”

“The ghost hunters, you mean? Your family?”

There was a beat before Jazz answered, “I don’t just mean Mom and Dad.” He joined her on the landing, and she immediately turned and led the way out the door, setting off at a quick clip for the residence hall he and Toby had been assigned.

“The other one, then?” He had to practically jog to keep up with her. This was ridiculous. This was not a fast walk, whatever she made it appear to be. “The one with the jet sled?”

“I’m talking about Phantom.”

“So there really is a ghost that fights other ghosts?”

“Yes.”

“And that matters right now because—?”

“Danny Phantom.”

“What?”

“That’s his name. Danny Phantom.”

“So—?”

“My brother is not very original.”

“What does Danny have to—?” Wirt broke off as Jazz’s meaning sunk in.

This had to be a joke. She couldn’t seriously mean that.

Even if it would explain her brother’s cryptid remarks earlier. And the reason he could turn invisible and get into locked room and apparently fly.

But…but Danny was solid. Real. Wirt had touched him, seen him touch other very real, very solid objects. Jazz’s brother couldn’t be some spirit clinging to this world after a tragic lab accident, however dramatic he’d tried to make that seem. Ghosts weren’t tangible—

—except in Amity Park.

“Danny’s dead?” Wirt hissed.

“Not exactly.”

That made even less sense.

“So he’s a demon?”

There really wasn’t another option. Plus, it might be the real reason Jazz never came to any of Wendy’s apocalypse training sessions with them. Wendy wasn’t big on demons. Not that Wirt would have expected her to be, but—

“No.”

Okay, he was completely lost now. “Then what the heck is he?”

“Just think of him as a human with ghost powers. It’ll be a lot easier on your head.”

“How is that supposed to be easier?”

“Do you really want me to launch into a spiel about what I think Danny’s molecular structure looks like right now?”

“I—”

“Because it is all speculation. I haven’t exactly put him under a microscope. I don’t even need to ask him if he’s comfortable with the idea because I know he isn’t. Who would be? We have no reason to believe he’s in any danger; not more than anyone is who does what he does, anyway. He’s stable. He’s not broken. He’s different. That’s not a bad thing.”

“He’s dead.”

“Not dead. And not demonic. Just because that was your experience, doesn’t make it Danny’s. Or mine.”

He’d played along with this whole thing for too long to ask if Jazz really meant that Danny had been the first person to give Phantom a name, hadn’t he? Because somehow being the reason Phantom took the name Danny—whether Danny Fenton gave him that name or if Phantom fancied it and adopted it, in honour of Fenton or not—didn’t explain anything. That would just be wishful thinking, especially after what Jazz had said.

Besides, Wirt knew that things that couldn’t be explained could actually happen.

He had simply never expected that they had genuinely happened to anyone else.

Particularly while they were still in this dimension.

“I just can’t….”

“You wanted to help Toby, didn’t you? So stop saying you can’t. Just roll with it and do the best you can. Life gets weird sometimes. You should’ve learned that by now.”

“I was fifteen!”

“Danny was fourteen.”

There was no way he could argue this like a sane person and actually come out ahead, was there?

Wirt swallowed his retorts, deciding to save his breath as Jazz picked up the pace again. Geez, that girl could run. By the time they got to the residence hall, he could taste blood and was gasping for breath in between coughing fits that somehow made the stabbing, burning pain in his side worse, and she wasn’t even winded.

He was still fumbling for his keys when someone else walked out, giving him a weird look but holding the door long enough for Jazz to grab it. Wirt pretended that his face was flushed only from exertion and not the fact that he was pretty sure that kid lived just down the hall from him and that he’d have to live with the fact that this guy was always going to remember him as this out-of-shape weirdo who—

“Come on. You can catch your breath when we get to your room. Probably.”

Jazz didn’t bother knocking when they got there. The knob turned when she tried it, and she shoved him inside before following and locking the door behind her.

Wirt wasn’t sure what he expected to see when they got there.

Someone injured, sure. That made sense. Toby had asked for a first aid kit.

But somehow, Wirt had never expected that said injured, uh, creature would not be human.

A quick glance told him that Jazz wasn’t the least bit fazed by the giant thing sprawled across Toby’s bed. It looked like it was dressed in armour, too. Without a helmet but with horns. Wirt shuddered, too reminded of the Beast not to immediately think demon despite the vastly different horn type. He looked for Wendy, but she was just perched on his desk, digging through the first aid kits, one balanced on her lap and two open beside her; she showed no signs of going for the hidden hatchet and trying to kill the thing, so that had to be a good sign.

Not that that gave Wirt much of an idea of what the creature was if it wasn’t a demon.

He didn’t really want to ask.

It did explain why someone had covered the window, though. Not so much as a shaft of sunlight was peeking through, so there was no way someone from outside could just happen to glance in and see…that.

“What—?”

“Jim and Claire are hurt,” Toby said, and Wirt tore his eyes away from the beast and finally realized that Jazz stood with Toby over a figure on Wirt’s bed, this one in that purple armour Claire had been wearing.

Was still wearing.

Toby was still wearing his armour, too. Wirt was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining the blood on it. He shivered, suddenly cold despite the fact that he knew he was still sweaty from that run. There was just…so much here he hadn’t known. And that creature….

He hadn’t realized that anything could give him chills like this. Since the Unknown, horror movies and such had never given him the creeps. They weren’t real, and he knew that, so he just never let himself be bothered by it. But this?

This thing was real.

And definitely not human.

And probably not a demon, since Wendy had no problem with it. At least, it wasn’t glowing. Its eyes might be, if they were open, but they weren’t, so—

No. He couldn’t go down that rabbit hole now. This one was bad enough. Wirt swallowed. “Badly?”

“Bad enough,” Wendy said as she hopped off the desk to give Toby whatever she’d been looking for in the kit. “A home stitch job isn’t going to make a concussion go away.”

“Let me, I’ve had a lot of practice,” Jazz said, reaching for something from Wendy. It wasn’t until she’d ripped open the package and fished out the contents that he realized it held sterilized needles. That wasn’t standard for first aid kits, right?

“This is crazy,” Wirt said. “We need to get her to the hospital.” He moved to stand at the end of his bed and tried to ignore the monster who lay on Toby’s in his peripheral vision. He stared at Claire’s armour instead, noting the smoothness of its joints and trying not to see what the others were doing. A quick glance had told him entirely too much. “She needs actual medical care. Last I checked, none of you guys have graduated med school.”

“No, but I’d wager we’re all experts in home treatment,” Wendy said. “Toby never flunked that part of the apocalypse prep courses, if you’ll remember.”

“I thought that was just your idea of first aid on steroids.”

“We don’t need an audience,” Jazz interrupted, and Wirt didn’t need to lift his head to know she hadn’t looked up from threading her needle. “Go help Danny.”

Wirt hadn’t actually seen Danny, so he glanced around the room again. “Where is he? Trying find someone to help?”

“He’s checking over Jimbo,” Toby said quietly. He was still looking over the piece of armour that was jutting out of Claire’s arm. Her arm. Speared by what Wirt could only assume was her own armour, though he couldn’t imagine how. He could see her losing a piece of plate, sure, but having it come back, sharpened to a point and tearing through her flesh— No, he couldn’t think about that right now. He quickly looked away, staring at Toby’s helmetless head instead and realizing how much sweat had plastered down his hair. “He and Claire got it bad. Jim can shake off a lot, but there was some dark magic in this mix.”

“Jim,” Wirt repeated. He remembered that name. “He was that other kid you were close friends with in high school, right? Tall, lanky? I think you raved about his food?” In truth, the last was the only thing Wirt remembered. Toby always raved about Jim’s food. Apparently, he made a mean omelet. “Did you at least drop him at the walk-in clinic or—?”

Toby finally met Wirt’s eyes. He looked…drained. That was the only way Wirt could think to describe it. “He’s on my bed.”

Wait.

What?

Wirt looked. The monster was still very much there. And now that he looked a little higher, he could see Danny hovering above him. Literally hovering. Maybe two feet from the ceiling. He’d paused in whatever examination he’d been doing to stuff his hand in his mouth and try to stifle his laughter, but he lost that battle the moment he realized Wirt had seen him.

“This is a prank,” Wirt said, coming to that conclusion again. That was the only thing that made sense. They’d finally done it. He didn’t know how they’d done, but they’d gotten him good, and he’d admit that. “Good one, guys. You really had me going.”

“This blood isn’t faked,” Wendy said bluntly. “Trust me, Wirt, if we were going to prank you, we’d all be laughing.”

“Sorry,” Danny whispered as he dropped down to Wirt’s eye level. “I just…. When I realized you hadn’t seen me, I couldn’t resist.” The smile dropped off his face as he added, “They’re right, though. This is serious. Definitely worse than the time Sam got hit by some of Skulker’s shrapnel.” His feet finally hit the floor again, and he pointed at the mon—at Jim. “Look at the way the armour impacted. It’s like he ran into a wall. Which he wouldn’t do, because when his eyes are open, they actually function. My guess is Jim has a lot of internal injuries, even with that stoneskin of his. Plus, y’know, the sheer amount of magic it would’ve taken to knock out him out. I’m surprised they were strong enough to bring him back here. He would’ve been dead weight.”

He turned away from Wirt, leaving Wirt to stare at the creature’s—Jim’s?—face and try to see something other than solid stone.

And trying to see the human face of the kid he’d thought had been Toby’s friend Jim in there somewhere.

However, Wirt was not so absorbed that he didn’t hear Danny’s utterly ridiculous question. “You guys can open portals to the Ghost Zone, right?”

How could this be real? It shouldn’t be real. It was even more insane than the Unknown, because he could pretend that that had just been a dream, complete with singing frogs and magical curses and nearly dying ten times over. There was a legitimate nightmarish monster lying on Toby’s bed that was apparently Jim, the amazing cook, and Jazz’s little brother had been floating, and—

“I mean, it doesn’t look like the Shadow Realm,” Toby said slowly. “Have you ever heard a name for it?”

“No,” was the hissed response, and Wirt blinked. He hadn’t realized Claire was conscious, even though he didn’t know who else Toby could have possibly been asking. “Haven’t seen anyone else there. Wouldn’t ask them where we were if I had.”

“Wait,” Wirt said. “What are we pretending happened here?”

“We’re not pretending anything because we’re not telling anyone else,” Wendy said without looking back at him. “But you should be able to guess what happened. Claire came to get Toby because they needed help. It went poorly.”

“Can I just see your staff?” Danny asked. “If I’m right and it does open portals to the Ghost Zone—and I really think I am—then I know someone who might be able to help Jim.”

“I’m willing to try anything. Claire?”

“Yeah.”

“Wendy, can you—?”

“I’ve got you covered,” Wendy said, smoothly swapping places with Toby.

Wirt backed up until he hit the door and tried not to think about how much blood was on Toby’s hands right now. He felt…out of place. More out of place than usual. Even more out of place than he’d felt in the Unknown, and this was the real world.

His friends were all taking this easily, like they’d known each other’s secrets all along, but his gut told him they hadn’t. His gut had been wrong before, admittedly, but this time it was backed up by how Jazz and Wendy had reacted to each other’s bits of dropped knowledge earlier. There had been curiosity and consideration, but there hadn’t been doubt.

“You know how to work that thing, right? I can carry Jim. Heck, I can carry both of you if you can’t manage a portal to a specific spot in the Ghost Zone.”

“Claire’s the one who really knows how to work this thing, not me, and getting back here took enough out of her. I can make it open a portal but I’m not good enough to do a place, especially not to somewhere I haven’t seen.”

“Okay, I can carry you piggyback so I can hold Jim and you can have a hand free to work that staff. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

Toby reached over Claire to grab something from the bed, and Danny…changed.

Wirt had closed his eyes against the bright light, but when he opened them, he recognized Danny Phantom from the pictures he’d seen while researching Amity Park.

“Awesomesauce,” was all Toby said before lifting up some kind of baton that glowed and grew into a staff and—

That was definitely a portal in their room, opening up as quickly as if reality were tissue paper that Toby had just stabbed through with his finger instead of gestured at with that staff.

It was a huge, vividly green portal that pulsed brightly enough to make the overhead light seem dim, and it apparently led into the Ghost Zone, of all places….

Jazz’s little brother, who was none other than Danny Phantom, with Wirt’s armour-wearing and staff-wielding roommate Toby on his back, picked up and cradled the giant monster that was somehow Toby’s friend Jim in his arms before flying all of them through that portal.

It winked out behind them as it had never been there.

“Wirt, Danny put some ice in the bathroom sink. Can you wrap some in a towel and bring it here?”

Where had Danny gotten ice? It wasn’t like this was a hotel and there was an ice machine down the hall or something. The cafeteria was in an entirely different building, but maybe he’d gone there for some. Even if it was winter, there wasn’t exactly a lot of ice or snow outside.

Then again. Danny Phantom. Wirt had a vague recollection of a reference to ice powers.

Wirt moved robotically, trying not to be surprised by the fact that the sink was full of perfect ice cubes that weren’t melting, or at least weren’t melting enough to stick to each other yet, and scooped a handful into a hand towel that he hoped was clean. Those had never gone missing like the socks, but they weren’t always remembered come laundry day, either.

He came out and handed the homemade ice pack to Wendy, trying not to stare at Claire’s pale face or the bruises already beginning to blossom on it. There was no sign of the helmet she’d been wearing earlier, though that cut that came entirely too close to her eye might be the reason for its absence, if someone had gotten in a lucky strike with a spear—

“I’ll be fine,” she hissed between clenched teeth when she noticed him. “I’ve had worse.”

Having had worse didn’t mean she was fine now. She shouldn’t be conscious. Well, she at least shouldn’t be this coherent, shouldn’t be able to read his expression and know his thoughts so easily. Was he really that transparent? Wendy had been worried about a concussion. Maybe—

“Go get some air,” Jazz said. “We don’t need you fainting on us, and we can handle this ourselves.”

He hadn’t been thinking about fainting. If anything, he’d been debating running away from here and just never coming back. This kind of stuff was supposed to be reasonable and stay in dreams and stories instead of invading perfectly logical or rational realities. Or maybe he just needed to talk to someone who wouldn’t judge him for what would sound like wild fantasies. A real therapist, not Jazz.

“Hey, you still with us?”

That was Wendy. She would not appreciate Wirt saying no. “Yeah,” he croaked out.

“Good. Then go. Get yourself a drink. Take a moment for this to sink in. Then you can come back and we can talk.”

He didn’t want to talk.

He didn’t want this to be real.

Why did this have to be real?

The Unknown was just supposed to be a dream. He didn’t want to admit that, yes, he’d actually travelled to another dimension or stumbled into some limbo between life and death or whatever it had been—

Maybe he really was losing it. Maybe none of this was real and it just felt real. Though, if he was delusional, this went way beyond his friends supporting him. This was…. Either this was enabling him or none of this was real and—

“Wirt.” Jazz again. “Seriously. Talk to us. What do you need? Would you rather just lie down for a bit instead?”

Right. Lie down where the monster that was Jim had been. Since that bed was free now that he and Toby and Danny had left through a portal in reality.

“Yeah, he’s not okay.” Wendy. “Hold down the fort. I’m going to wash up and get him out of here.”

He didn’t register that Wendy had moved until she was steering him out the door with still-wet hands. She paused only long enough to close the door behind her before pushing him forward.

It took entirely too long for him to realize that they were going to her favourite hidden corner on campus, a bench on the path that passed the bio and chem buildings that was half-hidden by bushes and trees in a little alcove by the northwest entrance to bio that Wirt had never seen anyone use.

“Sit.”

Wirt sat.

Wendy dropped down beside him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

There was really no point in lying. Wendy would call him on it. He spoke in short, halting sentences, not so much because he didn’t know what he was thinking as because he wasn’t sure of a sane way of wording any of it. But that was the crux of it, really. Sanity didn’t factor into any of this. So, he just told her the truth, as best he could.

Wendy, being Wendy, never laughed at him. Never denied any of this. Never reassured him that it wasn’t real or that she hadn’t seen what he had.

“Yeah,” she said when he’d stopped for long enough that it was clear to her he didn’t intend to continue. “That about sums it up, I guess.”

“How does this not….” He swallowed and tried again. “Did you know?”

“About what, Jazz and Danny? Not really. I never bothered doing research on her or anything. I just knew she could take care of herself, and that was enough for me. I learned the details when you did.”

“Toby?”

She grimaced. “I knew something was there. I didn’t know it was this big. Trolls weren’t something I’d encountered in Gravity Falls. Don’t get me wrong; they’re probably there. And from what I know about the Gremloblin, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s related.”

“The what?”

She shrugged. “Half-gremlin, half-goblin. Makes you see your worst nightmare if you look it in the eyes. Dipper captured it once. Or at least one of them, if it’s a species and not just a rare hybrid.”

She didn’t look like she was kidding.

Wirt groaned. “This can’t be real life.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow at him. “You are lucky Mabel isn’t here for this conversation or she’d take that as a cue to start singing.” When Wirt didn’t say anything else, she continued, “Look, I know this is a lot. You’ve obviously been in denial for a long time. But if we’re going to be able to help Toby and Claire and Jim, you need to pull yourself together. Like it or not, this is real life. It’s your life, it’s my life, it’s all our messed up lives. You can choose to walk away from this. I know Toby won’t judge you for that; he’s a better person than I am. But if you want to walk away, you need to be prepared to either cut us off completely so you can ignore everything that’s going on in our lives or cover for us when this stuff does come up, even if your involvement ends there. It’s your choice, but you need to make it soon.”

“But—”

“This isn’t me trying to pressure you into making a decision. It’s me telling you that we don’t have time for you to weigh every pro and con about every feasible scenario you can think of. We’re in the middle of this now, and we need to know if you’re in or out.”

“I don’t know—”

“That’s why I’m going to let you think it over and figure it out. Unless you want me to stay here and listen some more?”

She was more use to Claire than she was to him, so he shook his head.

“Okay. Text me if you wanna talk one-on-one with someone before you come back. As far as your decision goes…. We’ll do what we can to protect you either way, but I’m not going to promise you that you’ll be fine. I don’t know if you will be. I don’t know if I will be. I don’t know enough about what’s going on despite what Toby told me when Danny and I got there, but even if I did know, I still couldn’t make that guarantee. We’ll never be able to give you that guarantee.”

“I just…. I don’t know if I’m ready for any of this.”

“No one is. Well, I like to think I was more prepared for my first apocalypse than the average person, but for the most part? No one is.”

“Wait, what do you mean, first apocalypse?”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I helped save the world once. And I don’t think it’s a lie to say I’m not the only one, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to think I might wind up helping stop a second.” Wendy got to her feet. “Just think about it. Take some time to clear your head and sort things out. We’ll be in your dorm room until Toby gets back, and one of us will text you if we leave before you show up.”

“I don’t think I can do this,” whispered Wirt, looking away so he didn’t have to see Wendy’s face when he admitted that.

“Then you don’t have to. But don’t give up until you give it some real thought, okay?”

“Okay.”

He didn’t look up as she walked away.

(see more fics | next)

#otgw #danny phantom #trollhunters #gravity falls #toa trollhunters #fanfiction #crossover #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #crossover snippet #dp snippet #trollhunters snippet #otgw snippet #gf snippet

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engagemachine · 4 years ago

Text

I have nowhere else to put this. I need to say this.

These past two weekends at work have been utterly beyond my comprehension and have nearly pushed me to my limit. I’ve had patients in restraints for the past two weekends in a row now, and the mixture of verbal/physical abuse from these patients and others has been so emotionally taxing, I just don’t even know where I can lay down this exhaustion and this frustration and this hurt.

Our chronic understaffing issue has started to reach a boiling point. Last Saturday I had seven patients, which in some states is illegal (for reference, 5 patients on the kind of unit that I work on is considered normal, and 6 is the max that one nurse can have). Additionally, this past Friday, we went without a charge nurse and we didn’t have a tech (normally we have three to four techs because I work on a 40-bed unit, so each tech has ten patients each). My back has never been as sore as it is now from having to do so much heavy lifting this weekend without any help. Imagine changing multiple patients over 200 lbs all by yourself, multiple times, within a twelve hour shift.

Last night in particular was so stressful that I found myself snapping at my coworkers -- which is so unlike me and something that I never do -- and even worse, I snapped at and was short with a patient who had been very irritating and especially demanding. This is not the kind of person that I am. I am not a person who snaps at their coworkers and their patients when I’m feeling overwhelmed. I’m not unflappable but any means, but I make a point of leaving my stress outside the door every time I walk into a patient’s room. I know that my stress is not their burden to bear. These patients are already sick/suffering, the last thing I want to do is add to their stress by coming into their private space with my own personal storm cloud hanging over my head. They have enough to worry about and their primary focus should be on healing. I never want to carry negative energy like that into a space where I am actively trying to take care of/love/heal/protect/educate/support/comfort the people I am taking care of.

I can’t help feeling so angry at myself for my behavior and for allowing myself to slip so openly. I know I reacted this way because I was stressed and angry, but that is no excuse. And I also can’t help but feel bitter over the fact that the reason I’m so stressed is because we are lacking the resources/supplies/staff that are necessary in order for me to effectively do my job.

I’m also so sick and tired of all the hospital politics and the beaurocracy of working for a big corporation... a corporation that does not care about its employees and whose primary focus is money. I know the nurse shortage we’re going through at our hospital is an ongoing issue that is being faced nationwide, but something absolutely has to be done in order to get staffing to where it needs to be, otherwise nurses will be leaving hospitals in droves, or will simply exit the profession all together from burn-out.

And it’s just... all this little stuff, too, all these things that occur that keep piling up that no one ever does anything about and no disciplinary action is taken because we’re so desperate for nurses and can’t afford to fire anybody. Some of the nurses I work with have adopted an attitude where they they feel like they can do anything they want without repercussion, because they know they won’t get fired because we’re so understaffed. We had a nurse walk out one night after receiving report which should result in having your nursing license revoked or, at the very least, result in some form of licensure suspension. Leaving during your shift -- even if at the beginning of a shift -- is considered abandonment/neglect of your patients. That nurse should have been fired after that, and she wasn’t.

It is downright unconscionable that we should have to be responsible for seven patients. You cannot take good, quality care of that many patients at one time. It’s just impossible -- and it’s so unsafe.��Imagine having a patient with sepsis whose blood pressure is tanking and who has spiked a fever/is quickly becoming unresponsive, another patient with schizophrenia who is hallucinating and being violent, another patient who has dementia and is confused, who has a feeding tube, a tracheostomy that requires frequent suctioning (this is a sterile procedure), a colostomy, a Foley catheter, and is in two-point restraints, which requires documentation three times every hour. And then imagine another patient who is going through Benzo withdrawals and needing around-the-clock medication and is also on seizure precautions, and another patient who is confused and is a fall risk and keeps trying to crawl out of the bed, and another patient who is vomiting and needs an antiemetic and possibly an NG tube, and another patient who is post-op and requiring pain medication for 7 out of 10 pain -- and imagine trying to take care of all of these things at the same time. Imagine going thirteen hours without peeing, eating, or drinking, simply because there is no time. That was me last weekend. It’s crazy to imagine the stress of having that many human lives in your hands, to be so busy and so stressed out that you literally do not even have five minutes to go to the bathroom because there is so much to do and you cannot afford to sit down.

Or the fact that there’s a nurse on day shift who has nearly killed two separate patients on two different occasions, a nurse who refuses to do the basic necessities/tasks required by her job, has the nastiest attitude imaginable, and has been written up so many times by staff and patients that her personal folder is roughly as thick as the Oxford dictionary... and they still won’t fire her.

And the way I keep catching nurses in blatant lies, nurses who have documented that they’ve done something when they haven’t. Just last night I saw a nurse had documented that she had administered a medication when I know she hadn’t because the medication was still sealed in its original box and I was the first one to open it. She did this for two days. Like... how can you even live with yourself, telling a lie like that?

When I managed to take my lunch break this morning around 4am, I was near tears in the breakroom talking to my coworker because I just felt so overwhelmed and at my whit’s end. I’d gotten into a spat with my supervisor just a few minutes prior over something that she said had not been documented correctly (even though a different supervisor last week said that it had to be done the opposite way, and at that time, I’d had to stay late to correct this “mistake”) and now my supervisor this morning was telling me it had to be done the opposite way from what I’d been told, and there’s no clear hospital policy on how the documentation should be done... it’s so irritating.

There is honestly so much more. I could write an entire novel about the stress of my job -- but I hope I don’t sound ungrateful, because I do love my job, I really do. I love caring for people more than anything, and if there’s one positive takeaway from all of this, it’s that, despite our lack of staff, some of my patients have been so gracious and understanding, and so many of my patients have been very expressive of how grateful they’ve been for my care, telling me I’m an angel/the best nurse they’ve had/telling me they wish that I didn’t have to leave. That’s very sweet.

Emotionally, though, I just feel so spent. Like I’ve given everything I can and I have nothing more left because it’s been siphoned out of me. And there are weird things going on in my life with some of my personal relationships that have caused me an unnecessary amount of stress/insecurity and it’s frustrating that I feel like I can’t talk to the other person(s) about it because I am afraid of sounding needy/jealous/ungrateful. I pride myself on communicating the things that I want/need, but sometimes it just seems like it’s easier to let it go. I almost convince myself that they could never give me what I need even if I were to ask for it, but it’s also too painful to ask for something and then not get it.

I’m just so tired. I want to be positive and uplifting, but I don’t know where this road is supposed to take me. I don’t know if maybe I am being called to find work elsewhere or if this is an experience I am supposed to grow from and that is meant to make me stronger. I just really don’t know.

#text #my ask box is very full and I promise I will be getting to your messages as soon as I can #I am not ignoring any of you #just very very emotionally spent #and needed to put this down #if this is riddled with typos it's because I just got off work and I haven't gone to bed yet

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afterhoursfic · 5 years ago

Note

Geralt isn't sterile, because of... whatever reasons you want (second set of mutations? just lucky?) and he gets off like crazy on breeding whores/women he forces. Maybe he'll accept sex as payment for a contract if the village is too poor to pay (or he insists on it even if they can, when he smells a cute little virgin,) growling about how he's going to get a witcher pup on them, so everyone knows what a ruined slut they are, while they cry and beg him not to but can't possibly stop him.

Warning: non con

I really loved this prompt and I hope you enjoy it.

P.s. my dirty talk is uh not great so forgive that please

P.p.s The whole thing with the potion and letter in Oxenfurt is canon in the game so our boy could be out there doing this

When he got Shani to sneak him into Oxenfurt academy to look for information on O'Dimm, admittedly he didn't expect much, and he definitely didn't expect to see a letter posted on a door about his encounter with two academics in Flotsam what felt like decades ago.

In truth, he had forgotten about the whole encounter, of two men who approached him to ask if he would drink a potion, and against his better judgment, had done it. He didn't know the point in it, he was still a witcher, his hair stayed white, he didn't go blind, and his dick didn't shrink so could he be blamed for the whole thing being lost to the back of his mind.

Although now it is apparent that the potion did have a purpose, to make him fertile again, and the academics had even had a spy follow him to monitor his progress, or at least to have proof that the potion worked in the form of expanding bellies as they had called it.

Clearly, his reputation for bedding women preceded him, but as he thought back on the past year or so, most of his encounters had been with sorceresses, and in one memorable case a succubus, beings incapable of bearing child, although there could be one woman, Violet? Viola? that he had paid for at the Passiflora almost seven months past, and if he were to see if there was any truth to this, any chance that the potion even worked, that would be his best bet.

He abandoned his quest then, forgetting entirely about O'Dimm, Von Everec, and dirty dealings as he raced out of Oxenfurt and turned towards Novigrad.

~~~

It took a week until he reached the Passiflora and he'd barely stepped through the door before the Madame of the house was cussing him out for getting her best girl pregnant, too stunned about the whole situation he didn't even stop the woman from shoving him out of the brothel.

He barely had the mind to grab the woman's wrist, begging to know where Viola lived so he could find out the facts, he was supposed to be sterile after all and to make reparations as well. In the end, he had to use axii on the woman, but he managed to get an address out of her and it wasn't much longer that he was knocking on the woman's door.

As soon as it opened everything froze, he knew it was Viola in front of him with her swollen belly that looked ready to pop, the both of them staring at one another for a moment before she flew at him in a rage, slapping and hitting at any part of him she could reach until he finally calmed her with axii.

After almost 100 years of life, he knew whores worked with a strict pulling out policy for all men who entered, except for witchers, whos mutations meant that they were both sterile and unable to carry disease, perhaps one of the only perks they got from the whole ordeal.

He didn't need to debate about the probabilities of the child being his though, he could smell it on the woman, his scent just faintly as if it was under her skin, and something in him snapped at the thought. He did this, he fathered the life still growing in her and he latched onto the thought, let himself become addicted to it as he left the woman pregnant with his child in the street, barely remembering to lift the sign before he was heading for Crippled Kate's, a brothel on the docks who surely wouldn't turn away his coin even if the rumor of him fathering a child had reached them.

Sure enough, coin quickly passes hands and then he's being led to a room. Normally he would take his time, focus on the woman's pleasure by first getting her off on his mouth and then with two fingers before sliding into her like a hot knife into butter, ever eager not to add to the rumors about Witcher's being mindless beasts.

Now though he very much plays into the lie, can it be a lie when he shoves the woman to the bed, ignoring her protest as he climbed on top of her, and it's almost too easy to rip her underwear off and slide his cock into the tight, tight heat of her cunt as he quickly bottoms out.

He ignores the woman's scream as he instantly begins to pound into the woman, pushing her legs up until they're almost at her ears as he only fucks into her faster.

It's as if a fog has clouded his mind with the sole focus to fuck and breed, paying no mind to the tears streaking down the woman's face and her sobs for him to stop, he doesn't even feel it when she rakes her fingernails down his back, shoulders, hell even his face to deter him, instead it just spurs him to move faster, to fuck deeper as a growl emanates deep in his throat as he gets closer to the edge.

"How's it feel to be a witcher's bitch, stuffed on my cock and bred full of my come" The woman under him cries some more, broken sobs leaving tear tracks down her cheeks as his hips begin to lose their rhythm as he got closer to his release "What will the Madame say when your belly starts to grow with my child, nothing more than witcher's whore who bent arse up to be bred on my cock"

When all the girl does is plead for him to stop, it finally pushes him over the edge, slowing down his thrusts to drag out his orgasm as long as possible to coax every drop of come out of him to fulfill his promise to breed the bitch full.

When he's milked his cock dry he's left panting over her, cock still hard and eager for another go at her cunt, all while the girl is trying to wriggle away, to push him off of her. So when he rolls his hips into her again he watches her eyes go wide and tears threaten to spill over her cheeks before he slaps his hand across her mouth, muffling her screams now as he quickly picks up the pace of his hips, railing into the girl now as his hand gets slick with tears and snot as she sobs under him.

He doesn't last nearly as long this time, his cock still sensitive from the first time but with a noise somewhere between a growl and a groan he comes again, filling up her cunt with even more of his seed until he's left giving small aborted thrusts as the stimulation to his cock becomes too much and he finally pulls out.

He moves further down the bed to watch his come begin to leak out of her and chuckles when he sees her clench as if trying to keep it in "For all you're crying, it seems you like being full of my come"

The woman shoves him away and scrambles to the top of the bed, eyes frantic and wild "You're a sick fuckin' bastard and you can pay extra for that"

He just shrugged as he got off the bed and tucked himself back into his breeches, a smile on his face "You didn't say no and it sounded like you were enjoying yourself" Before she could say anything further though he did reach into his coin purse and tossed two crowns at her "That's for the baby"

It was almost comical the way her face paled and the sneer slid off her face "What baby"

He just scoffed at her as if it was the most obvious thing in the world "I'm sure you know how sex works"

"But you're a bleedin' witcher-"

"Sterile I know, but ask them down at the Passiflora and see if they agree" He can only chuckle as he watched her eyes widen and her face grow even paler, she must have heard the rumors and paid them no mind then, good, it meant others wouldn't listen either, and so he left her still leaking his come and tried to temper his thoughts as he walked back to his room for the night.

~~~

He doesn't have to wait long for the next girl to fuck, later that night in fact, nursing an ale in the Chameleon he's already half hard thinking back on his time in the brothel and debating on who in the inn might be willing to go to bed with him.

The answer comes in the form of Dandelion, who approaches him with a woman on each arm, one of which, with dark hair and tan skin immediately plants herself on his lap, surprise flitting across her face when she can evidently feel his now rapidly hardening cock press against her ass before she seems to compose herself, a salacious grin on her face as she presses closer to him and twirls a finger through his hair.

It's all too easy to lead her up to his room, and as soon as the door locks behind him he's ferrying her towards the bed, ignoring the way she tries to kiss along his jaw and paw at his clothes as he lifts her by the waist and throws her on the bed, following close behind and smothering her protest with a kiss.

He had planned to treat this time as an experiment. Back in the brothel, he had quickly succumbed to some sort of animalistic urge and he wanted to see if he could tame it somewhat. He still planned on breeding her, just getting kicked out of every establishment he entered for abusing the woman wasn't on his to do list.

Easier said than done because as soon as he was leaning over the woman that same need to just fuck and come and fuck again came over him.

This time he pulled back, ignoring the look of confusion on the woman's face before flipping her over and shoving her head into the pillows to muffle her cries. In the next moment, he had hitched her skirts up above her waist and pulled his aching cock out of its confines and simply pulled the woman's underwear to the side before he pushed in with a low groan, made even better as the woman clenched tight around him, clearly not prepped for the sheer size of him.

This time he does have the mind to gently roll his hips into her at first, pushing her harder into the bed when he feels her first start to struggle before he rapidly picks up his pace, head thrown back as he feels the girl squirm and clench under him, letting out a groan at the almost vice like grip she had on him as he heard her cry into the pillows.

"Fuck, you're so tight, a nice little hole for me to breed" The woman renews her struggling then, one of her hands trying to reach back to hit him, push him, it didn't matter because it didn't stop him from leaning over her, the angle meaning he could reach even deeper into her cunt, earning a low growl as he thought it would be even easier for her to catch "So eager aren't you, milking my cock like you want to be bred with my pup"

It easy to keep the woman caged when he's pressed this close but it still doesn't stop her from trying to get away, her movements more often then not meeting his thrusts to push impossibly deeper as she clenches oh so tight around him, as if to stop him from fucking into her again, but only pushing him closer to the edge instead.

"If I'd known you were this desperate I would've bent you over the table and fucked you downstairs" He's so close now, panting and growling above her as he drives his cock into her, desperate to come inside her now as she lets out little pained grunts where her face is still shoved against the bed "Would've shown the whole town what a desperate slut you are for a witcher's cock to stuff you full of come, course they'll know when you grow with my child, know how you begged me to breed your cunt"

The girl goes frantic below him in her effort to get out from under him, but instead, she just gets impossibly tighter around him so that he's helpless but to come with a snarl, fucking into her a few more time before he still and lets the woman's movements and tight cunt milk his cock dry for the third time that day.

When he's finished he lets her push him away and watches as she all but runs out of the room, tears mottling her face as she tries to rub them away. Almost casually he gets up from the bed to tuck himself back in and amble back downstairs to finish his drink, only to be approached by Dandelion who looks nothing but concerned.

"I just saw Maya run off as if the Wild Hunt were chasing her, what the fuck happened up there"

"Another girl just looking for the thrill of sleeping with a witcher, took one look at my dick and panicked, tried to calm her but she bolted" He watched Dandelion examine him for a movement, a hand on his chin as he thought before a smile came over his face.

"If I were you I wouldn't go around telling people that girls have literally run from your dick"

"Fuck off"

"Now now none of that, let me make it up to you- if you're still in the mood that is" He'd just gotten off, for the third time that day, but the thought of someone else eager to get into his bed so soon has his dick start to harden as he nods at Dandelion. It's then the bard grips his shoulder and turns him to face a woman stood by the bar, a small smile on her face and a glint in her eye as she looks at them "Miriam has been asking after you all night and I am assured that she will not disappoint"

As he's leading a girl up to his room for the second time that night he can't deny that being friends with Dandelion certainly has its advantages.

~~~

Two days later he's leaving Novigrad, a mixture of no contracts and the rumor being spread of how he was more monster than man in bed had women more than hesitant to approach him, and so he said farewell to his friends before moving on to more fertile pastures, no pun intended.

His next opportunity comes a few days later in some village he didn't care enough to learn the name for. He's just come back from fighting a nightwraith and feels exhausted as he makes his way back to his room at the inn. At least that was his plan until he passes the corner of one building and a woman spits at him before calling him a freak.

He was used to the insults at this point, one of the few constants in his long life, and before hadn't let himself be bothered by them, but there's an itch at the back of his mind that's begging to be scratched and so doesn't even think twice when he moves off the road to instead pull the woman deeper into the alley between the two houses and shove her face against the wall of the hut.

"What the fuck are you doing mutant scum, my boyf-"

"Careful, as my good friend Dandelion says, all are equal in the alcove" He can hear her asking just what he meant by that but after he'd pushed her skirts up and her underwear down it was pretty self-explanatory and quickly shoved a random bit of cloth into her mouth to stop her shouts from alerting passersby.

He can't help but shudder and let out a loud groan as he sinks into her, not even giving her the courtesy of waiting a moment before he's soon pounding into her, his hips snapping up to enjoy the warm, wet, tight heat of her cunt even as she struggles and tries to get a leg back to kick at him.

Granted he's only done this a few times, but he's started to relish the way the women struggle and beg to get out of his hold, to feel them inadvertently tighten around him or push back as they move so that his dick reaches even deeper into them. It would be far too easy to just use axii on them, the women limp under him and their hole loose and warm around him, but he wants them to feel it, wants them to feel how easy it is to just push them down and take what he wants, to fuck them open on his cock before breeding them.

"Wonder what your neighbors will think when they see no ring on your finger but your belly swell with my child" He chuckled as he felt her writhe under him, one hand now pulling harshly at his hair which only served to turn him on even further, spur him to fuck her even harder as he put a hand on her waist to pull her back on his cock with every thrust "They'll think you're a whore who'll open their legs for anything that moves, even a witcher, and how you begged me to breed you with my child"

It's over far too quickly but he makes sure to milk his cock dry inside of her before he pulls out and heads back towards the tavern for a well deserved drink.

He thinks that’s it for the night until he's met with some skinny farmhand pointing a finger at his face about how he raped and abused his girlfriend. What the man expected out of the situation was beyond him, but it probably wasn't to be thrown over his shoulder, easily following the man's scent back to his house before kicking down the door.

The girl he fucked in the alley is there with red eyes and starts hitting and pulling at his arm in an effort to free her boyfriend, but it doesn't move him. Instead, he ties the man to a chair and faces it towards the bed before he drags the woman over the covers to fuck her again and again, letting her writhe and squirm on his cock as he tells her what a good bitch she is letting him have her again, letting him fuck her over and over and over to make sure she catches with his seed.

He pulls her up so she's sat in his lap, both of them facing the boyfriend that's still tied to the chair, a mix of pale-faced horror and red with fury as he rests a hand on the girl's stomach and whispers that her boyfriend will make such a good daddy for his child, how he'll take good care of them and keep food on the table whilst silent sobs wrack her body.

It's only when he's finally spent, his orgasms nothing more than a couple of dribbles of come, that he finally leaves the pair for the night, a part of him almost welcoming the insults towards him now if that's how it ended.

~~~~

It’s almost a week later when he’s in some town outside Oxenfurt and his urges have only gotten worse and will very likely be the death of him.

It’s not so much the angered spouses or brothers that worry him, he got used to that long ago when Dandelion used to travel with him, instead, it’s the fact that he’s taken to accepting sex from the women in the village instead of coin.

In the smaller towns, where parents had far too many mouths to feed, it was all too easy for them to accept his offer, and they gladly threw him the first girl he looked at, sometimes that was girls fresh into their maidenhood and other times spouses or betrothed who smelled so sweet that he just had to taste, and often remarked on what a nice little family he was helping to create as he pounded into them.

In this town, however, they had heard of the witcher accepting sex instead of coin but when they’d seen his gaze fix on the Aldermans daughter as they discussed a contract, they were quick to offer him coin and only coin, luckily for them, he was running low and needed a list of things he’d put off as he had instead taken his pay between a woman’s thighs.

He would have accepted the measly coin and been done with it provided the drowners he had been hired to deal with hadn’t turned into a whole host of necrophages, from water hags to rotfiends and even ghouls.

When he demanded compensation for the trouble, he had just cleaned out the entire coastline for them so that they could fish again, the Alderman was quick to brush him off and cast him out of the town, knowing that his price would be his daughter.

It wasn’t until he threatened to tell other witchers of this town, of how they refused to pay him for services rendered so that when the next monster came, as it inevitably would, no witcher would help.

He had to bite back his smirk when the man finally agreed to pay, on the condition that he pick the girl. It wasn’t ideal and not what he really wanted, but if he at least got to breed one girl in this town then it didn’t matter to him who it was, and so it was agreed, he would be put up in a room at the inn, food and drink supplied where the chosen girl would later meet him.

That was all well and good and he gladly ate his fill under the mistrustful eyes of the barmaid, but for the first time in a long time, he would be ending the night with a full stomach. He really should accept more coin on contracts.

An hour or so later having retired to his room, he opens the door to find a woman, not old per se, but definitely past her prime, and would not be able to rear his or anyone else’s child.

At first, there’s just anger at the Alderman for cheating his part of the deal, and he almost scares off the poor woman still stood frozen at his door before pulling her in. He would get back at the man for sure, but for now, he just needed something to temper his rage and fucking a hole, no matter how useless to him, would help.

Only, when it came down to it there was no anger or fury filled lust, he’d been ruined by unspoiled maidens and sullying those promised to others, so now when faced with neither of those he finds himself disinterested and barely able to fuck the woman into her own orgasm before kicking her out, leaving him unsatisfied and even worse than before.

Later that evening, when most of the town has gone to bed, he leaves the inn, not to go to Roach, but the Alderman’s house at the end of the street, far grander than any of the man’s people could afford and it’s almost too easy to slip through a window and pass through wide corridors without a sound.

It’s even easier to get into the girl's room, smelling of cotton sheets and honeysuckle as he shoves a cloth into the girl's mouth and pins her to the bed, the girl still too tired to put up much of a fight before he’s lifting her nightdress to expose pale, creamy skin that he craves to mark with his teeth.

Eventually, the girl realizes something isn’t right and tries to pull away, but the attempt is almost laughable as he presses first one and then two fingers into her, pumping them a few times before he’s lining up his cock and sinking in with a moan as the girl screams behind her gag.

He should really go easy on the girl, but he can’t help the way his hips pull back before fucking back into the tight grip of her cunt. It’s not long before she’s crying, her muffled sobs filling the room alongside his moans and the sound of skin slapping as he fucks into that tight heat even harder.

The girl has only recently come into womanhood, he can smell it on her and a fucker like her father is probably already looking at who the girl might marry in the coming months. He has to stop moving for a moment before he comes too soon at the thought of by then the girl's stomach would start to show, how the family’s name would be cursed out by those higher than them for letting the girl be spoiled, and by a witcher especially.

“You’re going to look so pretty full with my come, but you’ll look even prettier full with my child” The girl below him doesn’t react, not that he expected her to at this point, she just kept crying until her gag was soaked through with spit and tears “Tell your father it was me, that it was a witcher’s cock that fucked you so well, so full of come, that you had to carry his pup”

Spurred on by his own words he can’t help the way his hips stutter as he finally comes into the girl under him, breathless for a moment but eager still, there were a lot of rotfiends after all so why not take what he was owed.

His second orgasm washed over him quickly as he told her what a nice little breeding bitch she made, how well she fit his cock and milked him dry like she wanted to carry his pup. The third orgasm comes even faster when he threatened to fuck her in front of her father so he could see what a needy little slut she was, how well she needed to be bred, and with a finger on the girl’s clit she coming around him that quickly sends him hurtling over the edge as well.

He tucks her back into the covers, cleaning her face a little before leaving her to sob into her pillow with his come staining her thighs. He’s not inclined to stay in the town for much longer, so returns to the inn to grab his meager things, and after saddling Roach, makes for the next town and hole he’d get to fuck.

#what even is dialogue #this whole thing is a mess and I apologize #afterhours cw non con #afterhours cw breeding kink #afterhours cw pregnancy kink

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shannygoatgruff · 5 years ago

Text

My Brother’s Keeper - Chapter XVII

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Rating: MA+18

Overall Warning: Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia, and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.

Chapter Warning: Nervous breakdown. Mentions of a sexual assault, childhood sexual abuse. Violence. Murder.

Chapter XVII

Grey paint makes this room seem colder than it is. It should be comforting, seeing that it’s my favorite color and all, but something about it that makes my teeth chatter. It feels like it’s the middle of winter in here, but judging from the birds in the tree outside of the sliding glass doors, it looks like a warm spring day. The sky, or what I can see of it, is bright blue and there are only the faintest whispers of clouds overhead. Yet, for some reason, my body aches like it's going to rain. Probably because I’m fucking freezing.

I hate it here and I hate this room, especially. It’s so sterile looking, even with dark wooden framed awards and certificates. Those stupid frames only make the industrial grey walls look more prominent. And this lacquered oak desk is too small for the amount of files and papers on top of it – maybe that was intentional…make it look like more work gets done in here than it actually does. These two oversize forest green chairs are comfortable, but they don’t match a damn thing, certainly not this burgundy rug that everything is just sitting on. Who the fuck decorated this place – a colorblind kindergartner?

What they should have done is used a nice grey lacquered wooden frames to play off the color of the walls, and then decorated with some earth-toned furniture; that would have brought a little warmth to the room. At least, that’s what Ivar would have done. He would have found a way to make it feel like home, no matter how cheap and mismatched the furniture is. He would have had this place looking like a showroom of IKEA in no time.

The only thing in here I do like is the floor lamp that sits in the corner of the room. I don’t know what it is I like about it; maybe it’s the square, glass lampshade, or the fat textured grey base with the yellow flowers winding around it. Maybe I like it because it hardly gives off any light and I find the soft white glow from it relaxing. I don’t know…whatever it is, I can’t stop staring at it.

"Hvitserk?" Slowly, turning in the direction of the sound of my name, I see a hazy, white face, with yellow, blonde hair directly in front of me, but I can’t make it out. I can’t get my eyes to focus. "You still with me?"

“Hmm.” Nodding slowly, I blink, trying to catch a glimpse of the face as it comes into view before it goes out of focus again. I wonder if I look as crazy as I feel trying to refocus my eyes, right now. Something about that thought makes me smile. "Gert?"

I met Dr. Lagertha, Gert as she keeps reminding me to call her, here about, um…a few days ago, or maybe it’s been months. I can’t really be sure. All I know is I have a full beard, or as much of a beard that I can grow, and my hair is the longest it’s ever been. I guess that means it’s been awhile; the days all seem to run together.

I think she’s in charge here because she asks so many damn questions. Only people who ask this many questions are in charge of things. Being in charge, you’d think she’d know something, but she doesn’t. No one here seems to know a goddamn thing. They can’t even tell me where here is! All I know is after Thora died, I woke up here.

There's not much to do here except fucking talk.

I call this place the Drug Store because they keep me high and well rested. If I’m not talking, then I’m sleeping and as soon as I wake up they give me pills. And they have the best fucking pills. It's not like that shit you get on the street. This shit is high end and it doesn't wear off that fast. I don't get sick from it and the best part is, I don't have to pay for them. The only downside is I'm so out of it most of the time that I can't seem to get my head together and figure out how to go home. But, I’ll work that out as soon as I come down this time.

"It seems like you’re still experiencing lucid dreams? I'll see what I can do about adjusting the dosage of your medication." I hear a rhythmic clicking sound and I can only imagine that Gert is typing notes again. She loves to type fucking notes. I think she likes to try to impress me with how fast she can do it or something because she’s always clicking away on that damn tablet of hers. "So, you wanna talk some more?"

With a shrug my head snaps back; it feels too heavy to sit up straight on my shoulders. I have to reposition myself in the chair so that I can rest my elbows on the arm rests to steady myself in my seat, "Not really.

Gert’s wearing that powdery perfume today. I smell it as she leans forward, "Tell me about your family."

My family? Of all the things we could talk about right now, she wants to talk about my family? There's a short subject. "I don't have a family. Just Ivar.” I have to close my eyes to keep the room from spinning, but even in the darkness of my lashes, swirls of colors still threaten to make me dizzy, "I want to lay down."

Papers start to move followed by a steady tapping on the table. She likes to do that, even though it gives me a headache. Even with my eyes closed, I know she's looking for some way to start the conversation. "It says here that you have brothers? How many?”

I feel my head bob as I try to focus, “Four. Bjorn, Ubbe, me, Sigurd, and Ivar,” my hand won’t cooperate as I try to count them off on my fingers. That brings on another fit of giggles.

“It seems your mother died when you were young and you were raised by your father?"

That’s not really how that happened, “Brother…he raised us." Not to disrespect Father’s role in anything but he didn't raise me. He put food on the table and clothes on my back, but it's not like he talked to me. Father did a lot of things to me, but talking and nurturing was not among them.

I can hear her typing again, “Which brother was that? The one that raised you?”

“Bjorn,” Of course she should know that. Everybody knows that he was like a surrogate father to us. He was so much older than us. He had to take on the role when Father and Rollo wouldn’t.

“Where is Bjorn now?”

Leaning my head to rest on my hand, I try my best to focus on her, “Gone.”

“Where?” She sits back in her chair and studies me.

With a shrug, I blink back at her. I don’t know where the fuck Bjorn is and I don’t give a shit, either. I focus on the sliding glass door and wonder what it’s like outside. I want to feel the sun on my face and smell grass, not this recycled air. Or maybe I want to take a nap. I’d rather do anything but talk right now.

Gert looks at a file, then she lifts her face to me and smiles pleasantly, “Tell me about your brother, Ubbe.”

Scratching my chin, I take in a breath and think. “Um...he’s two years older than me. He was my best friend when we were little. We did everything together. We took care of each other. Every time I fell, he picked me up. See this scar?” I lean my head to the side to expose my jaw to her. I wonder if she can still see it through my beard, “I fell out a tree. I cried. Man, did I cry. But Ubbe picked me up and walked me home. He fixed me up. He loved me. He tried to keep me safe.” As soon as the memory of Ubbe floods into my foggy mind I can feel myself smile.

"Here, drink this." Gert clears her throat and pours water into a paper cup – it’s always paper because they won't give me a glass. “What do you mean tried to keep you safe?” She slides it across the table and her hand drums waiting for me to answer or take the cup. I grab the drink and try to take it. I do, but it's hard to get my hand to my mouth. I have to crouch down in the seat to drink. "Where's Ubbe now?"

Where is Ubbe? Fuck if I can remember. “I’m not sure. We work…I work at his plant, but he doesn't talk to me no more. I don’t ever see him. We haven't talked in years." A chill creeps across the room and it's not from the cool water gliding down my throat. I wish they'd turn on the heat or give me a jacket or something. This room is too cold.

"Hvitserk," her voice is careful and the hushed tone she's using tells me that she's going to say something that might upset me. I just wish that she would come out and say whatever it is she knows. It's a lot easier hearing the parts I don't remember than when she tries to force the memories from me. They hurt. And I don't mean like the feelings from them hurt me. They physically hurt. The last time I remembered was when she asked me about Thora. When I woke up from talking to Lagertha about her, I had a gash on my forehead. Remembering is painful. "Your file says that Ubbe died when you were nineteen. That's over seven years ago."

Ubbe died? That's bullshit! He’s not dead, I work for the guy! Ivar calls him when I’m not going to the factory. I know we’re not on the greatest of terms, but if he were dead, I’d fucking know it. Lagertha's full of shit. She likes to lie. She's always trumping up something stupid, something to get a rise out of me. Well, fuck her. I'm not believing that shit, even if she has good drugs. I can find my own shit. "He didn't die. He just doesn't talk to me anymore and that’s Guthrum's fault." I don't talk to him anymore, either. It's funny how the people I need the most in my life all just stop talking to me after a while. "My head hurts.”

"It's okay. You're in a safe place. You've got to tell yourself that so, you don't go into the darkness. But, if you can't help it, I have pillows on the floor in case you have another seizure." I can feel her hand on mine and she pats it gently. I try to get my eyes to focus on hers but it's no use. I still can't make out her whole face. Right now I can make out about five of them but none of them are clear and her voice is becoming distorted. "Now this is important, Hvitserk. Tell me how Guthrum made you and Ubbe stop talking."

I don't like the way she babies me. It’s not how Ivar does it. When she does it, it makes me feel stupid. I know she wants to know, but doesn't she understand that if I felt safe with her that I'd open up? I always opened up to Ivar and most times all he'd have to do was hold me. “I’m giving you an injection of Sodium Pentothal - that’s what people sometimes call truth serum. It lowers your inhabitants and makes it harder for you to keep from speaking the truth. Do you remember we talked about introducing this into your sessions?”

I nod, even though I don’t know what the fuck she’s talking about. The shot pinches, but it doesn’t hurt. I detect it in my bloodstream as soon as she pulls out the needle. I love the way this stuff feels, but it hurts like a motherfucker when I crash. Plus, I hate the fact that my mouth just starts moving without my permission. "Guthy was my friend – he was the little brother of Ubbe’s girlfriend, Torvi. He used to come to our house all the time, play in our forts in the backyard... He was younger than me, like Sigurd’s age, but he wanted to hang out with me. He was the cutest little thing. He had curly brown hair and deep brown eyes. Ubbe always looked out for us, because he loved me and he knew that I loved Guthy."

As soon as my eyes open I see the woods right behind the back shed. The leaves are golden and they decorate the dying grass. It smells like fall in the air and it's really obvious when the leaves crunch with each step we take. "Ubbe knew how much I loved Guthrum but he told me to stay away from him, 'cause he was just a kid. He said that Guthy wouldn’t understand the way we grew up. Of course, I trusted Ubbe. He always gentle with me. He knew what was best for me even when I didn't. Plus, he got out…he made it. He had a normal life. He was in college – had a girlfriend and everything..." I look over to my left and Guthrum's walking beside me swinging that branch, banging the trunks of the trees while we walk into the woods. I'm not listening to him talk because I'm too busy staring at the look on his face. He makes me blush. And even though I'm smiling, I don't like the way I feel. Something's wrong. "Where's Ivar? You promised you'd tell me where he is."

"Stay focused, Hvitserk. I'll tell you about Ivar later." She always promises we'll talk about him but we never do. We used to talk about him until they found out that he came to check on me. He's tried to take me with him, but they keep me so full of drugs that I'm slow and clumsy and keep getting caught. After the last time, they gave me a new room that was inside of all of these locked doors. They strap me to the bed at night and bolt the door shut. There's even this big guy that stands outside. Now, Ivar can't get in and I can't get out. She won't even let me talk about him.

This is all Lagertha's fault. Always promising me that she'll tell me if he calls or sends a package. I tell her what she wants to know because she promises that she'll get Ivar in to see me. But then she always changes her mind. She's trying to keep me away from him. She's jealous. She doesn't know that he's going to kill her because she's keeping us apart. "Try to calm down. I'll tell you about Ivar, I promise."

"Don't you understand? I need to talk to him now! I don't like it here. I don't like talking about things with you. Ivar doesn't like it when I'm not happy. If you let me see him, I promise I'll keep you safe. I won't let him hurt you." I look down at my finger wondering why it hurts so badly. My hand won't come into focus, but I can see red dripping from the white tip of my finger. I must've pulled my nail off again. This seems to happen a lot when I get uncomfortable and they won't let me see Ivar. "My head hurts. I don't feel well. Please? Just let him come visit me. I'll tell you anything you want to know. Please, just let me see him."

"I'll see about arranging a visit after we talk. But, right now I need to know what happened in the woods behind your dad's house. What happened there that is making you so uncomfortable." I hate that fucking voice she uses. I don't want to talk about this. I want to see Ivar. She better not be lying, cause if she is that's it for her.

"I don't know." I close my eyes tightly to try to make the image of Guthy and the crunching leaves go away. But when I do, I can feel my fingers touch his hair and how wide his eyes got when I tried to kiss him. "He was so pretty. I just wanted to touch him, but he pushed me. He called me a fag and he pushed me." The ground is cold and hard on my hands as they came up to block my face from hitting it first as I fell to my knees. His soft face is hard and mean; his eyes aren't twinkling like they normally do. He's angry and I feel like shit because it's my fault. "Shut up, Guthrum! I'm not weak!"

I look over to my right and feel the anger fill my body. How dare he call me weak? Just because Ubbe takes care of me doesn't mean that I can't take care of myself. Ubbe doesn’t like to do what we have to do, so he makes sure he’s extra careful. He makes sure I’m okay after. Plus, he helps me when the time goes away because it scares me. Ubbe always makes sure I'm safe - he’s my big brother. He says it’s his job to keep me safe.

"Hvitserk?" Lagertha's voice cuts across Guthrum's angry face and my eyes snap up in her direction. "Do you remember where you are? You're safe. You're here with me." My arms flinch upward as if to lunge at her, but they fall back to the chair because the chains won't reach that far. I focus on her face long enough to see her shake her head at someone else in the room. I suddenly remember where I am and it’s not at my father’s house.

My throat is dry. I need to drink something. “Water,” Coldwater is the only thing that helps to stop the memories. It keeps me awake, makes the drugs feel like they don't have a hold on me. But she won't give me anymore. She wants me to remember. "He dropped the branch on the ground. I got mad and I picked it up. There was a crack in his forehead and blood. Blood on the leaves, blood in his hair, his eyes. It was everywhere." Slowly my heartbeat returns to normal and my dick gets hard. God, he's beautiful.

"He was just lying there with this deep red blood sticking to his hair, making it look darker. Those sad brown eyes were looking at me. I couldn't stop myself. I just had to know what he felt like." And the calm washes over me as I kiss his cold lips and let my hands roam over his body. "He was my first. I didn't know what I was doing, but he didn't mind. I don't think he'd ever done it before either. He grunted a little and it was awkward, but it didn't hurt too bad. It was beautiful. He kept whispering my name. His lips were cold when I kissed him, but he kept whispering to me. He loved it as much as I did." It is too cold out here. We should be making love inside where it's warm, so his body won't have so many goosebumps and his lips won't turn blue. But I can't stop. He's so sweet and pretty. We need each other and the location doesn't matter.

"Did Ubbe find you?"

Why does she have to ruin it by talking about Ubbe? She wanted me to remember, well I remember and it's a damn good memory. I finally really lost my virginity, just like Ubbe said it would happen, and it was the best day of my life but she's ruining it. "Ubbe fucked it all up." A pain shoots through my head and all I can see is a blinding white light. My hands are shaking and suddenly I feel the vomit hit my tongue. There's no time to move before it lands on the table and I can't stop. "Ivar…please? I need him," I gasp in between heaves.

But, Gert remains calm. I hate her. "Not until you tell me what happened to your brother." I don't want to talk about my brother. He doesn't talk to me anymore.

"That look. Ubbe always had the clearest, happiest, blue eyes, when he looked at me. But they were wild and they hurt me." Fucking tears. Why am I crying when I know that Ivar won't wipe them? He won't rock me until they stop altogether. I hate her. I hate this fucking place. I want to go home with Ivar. "Please? I don't want this anymore. Please? Just let me go home." Maybe if I beg she'll stop fucking torturing me.

"You're doing so well, Hvitserk. Just tell me about Ubbe."

Stupid bitch. I don't want to answer her but I can't stop myself. "He won't hold me. He won't come near me. He won't even look at me. But, he can damn sure call Guthrum's name and point his finger at me. He said, 'You did this. What the fuck is wrong with you? You did this.' He kept yelling. Father or Uncle Rollo were going to hear him. They couldn’t know…don’t you understand? It was just supposed to be us. No one else was supposed to know and we were never supposed to bring in anybody else. I fucked up. If they found out…it would have been so much worse, for all of us."

There's a splinter in my palm from the branch. Gripping it as tight as I can I swing it just like Ubbe taught me when I tried out for Little League. But, I don't stop. He was supposed to love me. He promised me he would always protect me, but he chose Guthrum. "You keep your damn mouth shut, Ubbe!" I keep hitting him until he doesn't say anything else. His blood is the same color as Guthrum's. It's beautiful. "I don't like red. There's too much red. I don't feel so good, Ubbe. I need help." I crawl over to him and lay my head on his chest. It's so dark and everything is fading but I can still feel his hand touch my hair. "I'm sorry, brother," I whisper before it all goes away.

I look up from the floor to see Lagertha kneeling beside me. The chair that I'm still handcuffed and shackled to is turned upside down with me under it. My lip is bleeding. Must have bitten it. Remembering with Ivar never hurts like this. "You had your first kill at nineteen. Your friend and your brother. Do you remember that, Hvitserk?"

"What?" I wish my eyes would focus. I wish I could feel her fingers in my hair as opposed to watching her blurry wrist disappear over the top of my head. "I didn't kill Ubbe. He moved out of the house, but he called me every day. He used to send me cards and letters. I left a few months later. We had a long talk about everything and I apologized for hitting him. But, I didn't kill him. But…" From where I'm lying, I can see out of the sliding glass doors. The blue sky and the green grass are heavenly especially since they've been taken away from me. And then something else catches my eye. "Ivar." Trying to scramble to my feet, I glimpse his smile and then he winks at me. He's going to save me from this hell.

"But, what?" Lagertha's voice forces the smile from my face.

"We were never the same. I don’t think he could ever forgive me for what I did to Guthrum, so he chose to stay away,” As long as I keep talking, she won't look at the door. She won't know that Ivar is trying to find a way in. If I keep her distracted, Ivar will save me. I tried to warn her, but she didn't listen. Whatever happens to her won't be my fault.

Lagertha helps me righten the chair and soon I feel my handcuffs being loosened. I don't know why I'm happy about that because I hate this fucking straight jacket more than the handcuffs. The big guard, Paul, leads me over to the couch and stands right by us when Lagertha takes a seat. I guess we can't use the table now that I've thrown up on it. "Hvitserk, it is important that you understand what your experience with Guthrum stemmed from. You and your brothers suffered from severe abuse at the hands of your father, uncle, and oldest brother. What you did to that boy was a learned pattern of sexual behavior.” She places her tablet on the floor and folds her hands in her lap as she speaks, “Part of it was you exploring your sexuality with someone that you felt genuinely attracted to. Another part of it was you acting out what you had been taught, and shown that sex is a violent and aggressive act, to be taken out on someone smaller and more vulnerable than you. Do you understand that?. You mustn’t blame yourself.”

What is this bitch talking about? “There wasn’t anything violent about my time with Guthy. It was amazing. I was careful not to hurt him.”

“Hvitserk, rape, is a violent act,” She considers me, then repositions herself on the chair. “Your file says that you and your brothers were sexually abused. You were forced to take pictures, perform acts on each other as well as with your guardians…you grew up believing that forcing someone to have sex is natural. But it isn’t, Hvitserk. Beating someone within an inch of their life and then having sex with them is not normal, even if that’s what happened to you. It wasn’t right when it was done to you, and it isn’t right when you do it to someone else.”

She has no idea what she’s talking about. I almost feel sorry for Lagertha, right now. No one has ever loved her enough to show her how much they truly want her. That’s okay because when I’ve had my lucid moments, I’ve seen her. Like really seen her and she’s amazing. She’s got it. Whatever that spark is, she has it. Ivar and I could show her what it’s like to be wanted, to be the object of desire. Then she’d know that all this talking she’s doing is just bullshit.

I look at the glass door and lock eyes with Ivar. I can tell that he knows what I’m thinking because without me having to say anything, his eyes quickly move over to Lagertha. He licks his lips before looking back at me and nods his head slowly.

“Let’s talk about Ivar,” She says looking up at me.

Shaking my head slowly, I tear my eyes away from the sliding glass door. I lean in and smile, “He doesn’t like it when people know about him,” I whisper.

Fuck Lagertha. She’ll know all about Ivar soon enough.

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staticscreenwriting · 6 years ago

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All you have to be is here - Part 1 - Billy Hargrove

Synopsis: Billy has fucked up and has to do 60 days of community service at a home for troubled kids and youth. Working with the kids there makes him learn a lot about himself. Also there’s a girl there his age who’s smile is phenomenal and who is way too nice to him.

I guess I should mention there’s a lot of angst in this. Talk of substance abuse later on, physical abuse, emotional abuse. All that kind of gnarly real life stuff. It deals with kids and teens struggling with a a shitty family life so be aware of that.

Part 1 of ?

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please. Also It’s 2:30 am here so I’ll make a header image later after I’ve slept a little. K thanks.]

I never really ever felt so adored before Never really ever felt this type of vulnerable Don't have to hide, don't have to fear All you have to be is here Never really ever felt so adored before And I said I wanna feel like this forever Even if forever's just for now We're on fire, let us burn As the outside world, it turns We are here and alive In our corner of time Forevermore

There’s a thing about waiting rooms, Billy thinks, where they try to make them look alive by putting everything up on the walls they can find. All the bullshit abstract paintings and clocks in weird shapes and bright color. It doesn’t change the fact that it’s a waiting room though, and people here aren’t happy.

The walls are the offest white Billy has ever seen and the sad thing is he’s fairly sure they deliberately chose this color. He can hear the ticking of the clock shaped like a daisy flower, hammering through the silence.

Everything here seems too much. The walls are too off-white. The clock is too loud. The paintings too bright. There’s people on the brochures and flyers that are so neatly placed on the table in the middle of the room. Those people stare at him with their shiny colgate smiles that are just a tiny bit too wide to be reassuring and end up looking more creepy than anything.

He really has to give it to them, they tried it here. Tried to make the place feel less sterile and more homely and warm. The seats in the waiting room are cushioned and comfortable and there’s music playing faintly in the background.

And yet this is still a waiting room and no one wants to be here.

A cough sounds from his right, followed by another one. It’s the 12th cough in the matter of 5 minutes. He’s counted. The man next to him looks about Neil’s age and he’s built like a tank. And he looks positively miserable.

In the corner of the room sits a girl who seems to be a little older than Billy. She has bright red hair pulled up in a crazy bun and she’s nervously fumbling around with a hair tie. Twirling it around a finger then twirling it back. Tangle, untangle, tangle, untangle.

“ Billy ? “

He looks up at the voice and his heart sinks all the way down to his stomach. I am not sick. I am not sick. I am not sick and I don’t need to be here.

But the facts are that he is here, he has to be. And waiting for him in the doorway of the waiting room is a doctor. A therapist. Dr. Ryland Kapelsky.

Who the fuck calls their kid Ryland ?

He’s got a thick bushy mustache and glasses that look two sizes too big for his tiny head. Everything about him seems far too comical. This has to be a caricature come to life, straight off the pages of a sunday newspaper.

This man, Billy is painfully aware, knows more about him than he wants him to know. He’s most definitely read his file. He surely knows this therapy session is court ordered.

And still, caricature man holds no judgement in his eyes.

“ Billy ? “ he asks again, now looking straight at Billy as if his deep brown eyes might look right into Billy’s soul, “ that’s you, right ? “ .

Billy nods and gets up “ yeah that’s me “.

Dr. Kapelsky has a firm handshake and Billy think that this guy is not one to bullshit. Which is quite tragic because bullshitting is something Billy absolutely excels in.

“ Nice to meet you, if you’d please follow me to my office “.

His voice is stern but not mean or angry. He seems professional enough which is a bit surprising compared to his comical look.

As they move down the hallway, more off-white walls left and right, Billy glances at the various plaques and certificates proudly displayed.

He wonders if there’s one for winning the caricature look-alike contest. Suppressing a chuckle he follows the man into a spacious office and sits down in yet another cushioned chair by a big oakwood desk.

Dr. Kapelsky closes the door before joining Billy by the desk. He sizes him up, tries to figure him out by just initial impression. Billy can tell. He’s probably trying to come up with a way to approach the situation, to get him to open up and spill all his deep and dark secrets and emotions.

Billy can see it all happening and yet all he can concentrate on, is the taxidermy racoon on the shelf in the corner of the room. Why the fuck did this comic-figure-looking guy have a taxidermy racoon in his office ?

“ So, Billy. Let us start with introductions. I am Dr. Ryland Kapelsky but you can call me Dr. K. It’s what most of my younger patients do.”

Billy hates this, not the guy but the attitude. He’s not going to win him over by pretending to be cool and down with the kids. He’s not a kid.

He’s not a patient either. Because he is not sick.

“ a’right. “

“ And you are ? “

“ Billy Hargrove, you know this. You’ve read the file. “

“ I did, indeed. “

“ So you know this is court ordered. I’m not here because I want to be or need this is any way. I have to be here or I’m going to juvie. That’s the only reason. Sorry to disappoint but we’re not gonna end up making daisy chains and talking about our feelings. “

“ I understand that you don’t want to be here “ Dr. K. says and slides the too-big glasses down his nose “, no one really does. I need you to understand though, that this is a chance for you more so than a punishment. “

That’s easy for him to say, Billy thinks, he’s the one getting a big ass paycheck.

“ I see you’ve also been assigned 60 days of community service. Is that correct ? “

“ Yes, sir. “

“ I was asked to suggest an institution I find suitable for you to work those days. One that I think will benefit you. “

“ Wait wait wait. What ? I thought I was gonna pick up trash at the side of the highway “.

“ Billy, “ Dr. K says and does that thing adults do where they look at you and sigh and pretend to care “ this is supposed to help you. It’s a chance. Picking up trash is not gonna do anything now, is it ? I want you to take something from this. “

Oh he has taken something from it. Don’t punch rich kids whose parents have the funds to get a good lawyer and press charges. No matter how deserving those rich kids are of a fist in their face.

“ Alright then, what’s the verdict, doc ? Where you gonna send me off to ? “

“ Well. There’s a place in Huckley, it’s a tiny town about a 30 minute drive from Hawkins. It’s called the Huckley home from troubled children and youth. There’s kids and teenagers from troubled homes who struggle in life. They’re all a bit younger than you. Most of them come from abusive homes. “

“ What are you saying, sir ? I’m not a troubled youth. I don’t need to attend some looney institute, bad enough I have to sit through this shit here.“

He doesn’t like this man insinuating stuff about Billy’s home life. He doesn’t know shit. No matter how many plaques and trophies and certificates. This man doesn’t know the first thing about Billy’s family. His home.

“ Oh no you’re supposed to work there. Help out in activities. Attend the group session and listen to the kids. Also, and I mean no offence, Billy. I only judge by what I am familiar with. By what I’ve learned over the years. I see your father was asked to accompany you to today’s appointment. He’s not here. “

“ I’m almost 18 my dad doesn’t need to be here. “

Truth is, Neil wouldn’t have come no matter what age Billy is. 8 or 18 it doesn’t make a difference. Neil laughed at him when the letter came. Then gave him a black eye to go with. His taunting words are still ringing through Billy’s ears.

“ Yes but we usually like the parents to be there. To asses the situation and to — “

“ Well he’s not here so can we drop it ? “

“ Sure. “

Billy can see him scribbling something into his notebook. Probably another assumption. It’s ridiculous, really. The fact that he has to sit here and let a complete stranger make up a story of what he thinks is going on in Billy’s life.

“ Look doc, I don’t need you to figure me out or anything like that. It’s bullshit anyway. All I need is for you to sign my notes every session for the next 8 weeks so the court knows I’ve been here and that’s about it, okay ? You get paid either way so it shouldn’t matter. “

“ This is my job, Billy. It always matters.”

“ Well this time it don’t. Now tell me about that troubled youth center thing so I can get that over and done with.”

- XXX -

The Huckley home from troubled children and youth stands at the end of a cul-de-sac with a little lake and a whole god damn forest behind it. There’s two other houses down the street but they’re all about 10 minute walk away from the big red brick building.

He takes one last puff from his cigarette before stomping it out on the floor and walking up the gravel driveway towards the big oak door.

There’s gold ornaments on the door handles and up and down the sides. He wonders if this is one of those fancy looney bins that rich parents send their kids to when they don’t wanna deal with them or can’t bother to bring them on their trip to Aspen.

The inside looks nothing like Billy has expected it to look. There’s wide big walkways and windows that let the sunlight stream through the halls. Every wall is plastered with drawings and macaroni picture frames and certificates that all hold little shiny star stickers.

It reminds him a little of his elementary school back home in California. His mom used to be a teacher there and even before he was old enough to visit the school himself, sometimes she took him with her to sit by her desk while she taught the kids a new letter or help her put the shiny stars onto an especially well done assignment.

But his mom is gone now and sticker stars don’t mean shit in the real world. He wonders if they ever really did. If so, he’d like to know when they stopped mattering.

“ Can I help you ? “ a voice speaks up from his right. There’s a girl there and she doesn’t seem to be much older than him. She’s wearing a white shirt that proudly displays the letters HHTCY. Ah great, uniforms.

She’s cute though, he has to admit that much.

“ Hi. I’m Billy. Billy Hargrove. I’m here for — uh community service “.

“ Oh! Oh yeah just let me — let me see if I can find someone to … “ she doesn’t finish the sentence, just hurries back towards the way she’s just come from.

Billy uses this time to look around the halls a little more. The certificates all seem to have been rewarded for different things. Exceptional Storyteller. Hide & Seek champion. Queen of hopscotch.

He wonders what certificate he’d get. Biggest disappointment ? Lousiest life ? Best hair ? Probably all of them.

“ Sooo, seems like Janet was supposed to show you around but she’s had a family emergency so she’s not here aaand that means I’ll show you around since literally anyone else is currently busy. “ the girl appears again, her mouth spitting out words a mile a minute.

“ I’m (Y/N) “ .

“ Billy. “

“ Hi, welcome to —”

“ Look sweetheart, I don’t need to whole spiel, okay ? I’m here on court order so just tell me where to go and what to do and let’s get this over with. “

She looks defeated for a moment which makes Billy feel a little bad about his harsh tone but really, the quicker he’s started the quicker he gets to leave. Once this is over he’s not gonna see this girl ever again, so who cares ?

“ Oh, alright. Well here’s a schedule that Janet made and a floorplan. I need to show you around before you get to actually do anything but I am scheduled to sit in on a group talk so I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me. Now look, I get you don’t want to be here. Honestly I don’t give a shit about that. But these people, these kids, they are here because we care and because they need someone to care. Don’t be a dick in there. Don’t ruin this for them. If you do, I’m gonna kick your ass into the next dimension. Is that clear ? “

Billy is stunned. He doesn’t know who this girl is but it’s not the same one that he’s interacted with just minutes before. This one isn’t timid or sweet. She’s spunky and feisty and interesting and — kinda hot.

“ Whatever you say, ma’am”

“ Yeah, whatever I say. Now let’s go !”

Damn. What the hell has he gotten himself into here.

- XXX -

The room that the group talk is held in is big and airy with light colored walls and even more paintings. It’s not at all as small and cramped and sad as he had imagined it.

There’s a bunch of people here, about 6 or 7 kids who range from what Billy assumes can’t be much older than 6, to people who look to be around his age. Then there’s (Y/N) and a woman that had introduced herself to Billy as Dr. White, though all the kids seem to refer to her by her first name, Lydia.

Some of the kids are smiling, radiating with energy and joy while others hardly speak up and mostly keep their eyes focused on the floor. Though even those kids are always attentive, Billy notices. Always listening. Still a valid and active part of this conversation even when they don’t even speak a single word.

This whole talk is so different from what he expected it to be. There’s no pressure. No one is forced to do an emotional strip and lay bare all of their darkest secrets and innermost feelings. it’s mostly the kids talking about their day. The good and the bad. Things that scared them and things that gave them hope. Lydia seems genuinely interested in what they have to say too. (Y/N), Billy notices as his eyes keep drifting towards her, hold a warm smile on her face the entire time. And it’s not fake or overdone. It seems so genuine, so honest. He wonders if anyone has ever smiled at him like this.

“ Abby, you haven’t said anything yet. How was your day ? “ Lydia asks, looking at the girl across from her in the circle of chairs. Abby must be around 7 or 8 years old. She’s small and has a big mop of blond hair on her head. Her sweater seems a few sizes too big, she’s practically drowning in it. Billy isn’t sure he really wants to know her story. If she’s here, he’s sure it’s not a happy one.

“ It was — alright. Grandma and Grandpa came to visit. They took me to get ice cream, mom wasn’t here though. Not this time. They said next time she’d come. Maybe I get to see her for my birthday. “ she says the words with a sprinkle of hope, one Billy knows too well. A hope he has tried to hold onto for so many times in his own life. One that’s but a mere illusion. It’s a trick. It’s not real.

He hopes this little girl never has to find out about that. He hopes, sincerely hopes, that she gets to keep this hope in her heart for as long as humanly possible. Because losing it comes with pain and suffering and heartbreak. And this little girl doesn't deserve that.

“ So how would you rate your day from 1 to 10 ? “ Lydia asks.

“ Like a 7 maybe ? “

“ Are you asking me ? “ Lydia smiles at Abby.

“ A solid 7 “.

“ That’s good then. “

They’ve done this with all the kids that had wanted to share something, ask them to rate their day. Billy’s days are usually 4s sometimes when it’s a real good day their climb up to become a 6. Then there’s days, those when Neil is home, that are no better than a 2. Those ones come with at least a bruised cheek or a bloody nose and at worst with a broken rib.

“ So, I guess that’s it for today. Thank you guys for sharing your stories with us. Those of you to stay, please go get some lunch. Those that go home, I’ll see you next monday and I hope your week becomes a solid 10. “

Something in the way Lydia speaks, makes Billy feel a little more at easy. She has a softness to her words, like they’re made of cotton. His mom used to talk like that to her students. All gentle and kind and wonderful.

“ Hey you “ a hand waves up and down in front of Billy’s face “ let’s grab lunch then let me show you around. “

It takes a moment for Billy’s eyes to fully focus on the person in front of him, only to be met with (Y/N) who’s wearing a huge scowl on her face.

“ Huh ? “

“ I said let’s go eat. Oh and uh — thanks for not fucking this up. “

He doesn’t think behaving like a decent human being deserves any kind of thanks, he appreciates it anyway.

- XXX -

“ … and this is my office. Well technically it’s Janet’s office but she mostly does our paperwork and accounting and so she does that from home most of the time aaaand that means I get to use the office while she’s not here. Even though I’m only volunteering and I’m not supposed to have an office actually but uh — “

“ You talk a lot, don’t you ? “ Billy asks as a smirk pulls up the corner of his lip.

“ I’ve heard people say that, yeah. You on the other hand talk very little “ (Y/N) says before sitting down on the big oak desk.

“ Yeah well I don’t got nothing to say to you, babe. “

“ Ah man, you gotta stop with those pet names. “

“ Huh, and why’s that ? Does it make you nervous ? “ there it is, the smooth suave Hargrove charm that his mother always said was gonna cause her sleepless night and gray hair. He always scoffed at that, now he wishes he could see her with gray hair. Older and — alive.

“ Pretty much everything makes me nervous really but no, it’s just unprofessional. “

“ You’re a volunteer and I am here on court’s order. We’re hardly professionals. “

He can see a small smile threatening to cross her face, it’s so subtle he almost misses it. Almost.

“ What’s the deal with Abby ? “

“ huh ? “

“ The little girl. “

Something about this girl reminded Billy so much of himself when he was younger. Her whole demeanor was so familiar like he was looking into some kind of distorted mirror that allowed him to look into the past. He just had to know what her story was, even if it meant to feel the all too familiar pain.

“ I can’t tell you any specifics but well, her mom has — issues and her dad is not in the picture. She used to stay with her grandparents but they are getting older and feel like they can’t provide her with all the things she needs at this moment. So she stays here with us. “

“ Do all the kids ? “

“ Nah. Some of them stay here permanently. Some temporary. Some just come around certain days of the week. It really depends on their individual situation. We provide them with what they need even if it’s just a place to stay and some open ears. “

Billy wonders if things would’ve turned out different for him had he had someone who cared. Who was willing to listen. To his sadness and his anger and all the pent or emotions he had to keep inside for the longest fucking time.

“ Well good for them. “

“ Yeah. I hope it makes a difference. “

Billy smiles at her. He hopes it seems genuine, because it is.

“ Oh I’m sure it does. “

- XXX -

Billy is exhausted once he arrives home. (Y/N) took him around the entire building doing several different chores and tasks to make sure he got acquaintanced with everything that needed to be done. From tidying up the community lounge rooms to helping prepare food to paperwork. She made sure he saw and did it all at least once. And my god, this girl was thorough.

As he steps through the door, he can hear the scrapping of cutlery against the porcelain plates. They’re all sitting around the kitchen table like a perfect little family. Neil, Susan and Max. A sight for sore eyes, if he’s ever seen one. There’s no room for Billy on this table. There never really was.

Neil’s eye shoot up as his son enters the kitchen, a snarl makes its way onto his lips and the gross mustache twitches disgustingly. God, Billy can’t even put into words how much he detests his father.

“ Look who returned home. The prodigal son. My boy. Tell us Billy, how was community service ? Did you work real hard ? Did you make them proud ? “

The teasing is hardly hidden in his words. It’s ugly and taunting and Billy is sure those words are gonna ghost through his head for much much longer. If Neil could just shut up for once. Just once.

“ It was alright. Can I go to bed now ? “

“ Alright ? What kind of answer is that ? “ Neil snarls, taking another sip from his can of bud light. Susan and Max avert their eyes down towards their plates, nervously pushing their food across the tableware.

“ What do you want me to say, dad ? That is was good? It wasn’t, it was fucking exhausting ! That I’m sorry ? Well I’m not. The dude had it coming. I did a shit thing and now I’m suffering the consequences, what the fuck else do you want me to do ? “

He knows, as those words leave his lips, that he’s fucked up. Before he can even register what happens, a loud smash echoes through the room before. Then Billy feels the smooth surface of the fridge pressed against his back and Neil holds him by the face in a grip so tight, Billy is sure there’ll be bruises tomorrow.

“ Is that a way to talk to your father ? I give you everything you ungrateful little shit and this is how you thank me ? Grow up, Billy ! Start taking some god damn responsibility “

Smack.

He’s used to it by now. It stings a little less each time. He hates that it does. He hates that he gets used to this. From his dad of all people. The one who should be sheltering him from bad is the one bringing it upon him.

“ Do you hear me ? “

“ Yes sir ! “

Another smack. This time he can feel his lip split open. He’s used to that one too.

“ Excuse me ? What was that ? A little louder please. “

“ Yes, Sir !”

When Neil lets him go and sits back on the kitchen table, Billy carefully steps over the broken plate and hurries towards his room. The rage in his system says “slam the door” but he knows that would make things worse. So much worse.

Though he can’t help himself but punch the wall. Once. Twice. Three times. He loses count at some point but gets pulled back into reality when he notices a red sheen covering his knuckles.

As if a split lip wasn’t shitty enough he had to add bleeding knuckles and a bruised fist to it. Great.

The rage feels all consuming. Like it’s taking over everything and swallowing him whole. He needs to get out. Needs to get away for a moment. Out of this house where misery lives and anger seems to inhabit every corner, every wall. If he doesn’t get out now he’ll explode.

So he opens the window, quiet as a mouse, like he’s done so many times before and rushes towards the camaro. If Neil notices he’s gone, that’s something he’ll have to deal with later. It doesn’t matter right now. All that matter now is getting away. As far away as possible.

- XXX -

There’s a perpetual red glow in this 24h convenience store. It comes from the neon signs in the window that advertise hot dogs and cream soda. Billy thinks it gives the place a realy creepy vibe.

He fumbles around the freezer before taking out a popsicle package and holding it to his swollen knuckles. It’s soothing sure, but it’s uncomfortable holding that stupid box to his hand.

“ Have you never seen a movie before ? You gotta use frozen peas, man “

Recognizing the voice immediately, Billy turns to see (Y/N) stood next to him, a white grocery basket hanging from her arm as she holds out a packet of peas to him.

“ They properly take the shape of your hand. Works way better, trust me ! “

“ Oh yeah “ Billy replies, taking the peas from her hand and holding it to his injured. Goddamn she’s right. “ You some kind of secret nurse or something ? “

“ Not really but that’s common sense. “

“ Not something I can pride myself with apparently. “

And when she laughs at that, it’s like for a second his knuckles don’t hurt and he forgets about the dried blood on his lips.

“ Man, you just got ordered community service for punching someone. Thought you’d have learned. “

“ You should see the other guy “ Billy jokes. But really, it’s not funny. Not even close.

“ Yeah ? Big guy ? “

“ Huge. Made of drywall “

“ Huh. Did you win at least ? “

“ Ya betcha, baby. I always win “ and if only that was the truth.

“ Come on Rocky, lemme get some stuff to fix you up. “

It’s a few minutes later that Billy sits in the bed of her pick-up with (Y/N) standing between his legs, dabbing alcohol onto his lip and knuckles. If this wasn’t such a ridiculous situation it could even be a little romantic. With her so close to — certain regions of his body. Fucking hell Billy, get it together !

“ So uh — do you wanna talk about what happened ? “

“ Not really. “

“ You sure I could — “

“ Look (Y/N) I don’t have the best life at home, okay ? But that’s all you need to know. I’m not one of your kids that spill their heart and emotions out to you I just needed to get away from home, is that alright with you ?

“ That’s perfectly fine “.

He can almost feel how genuine her words are. She doesn’t judge or pry. And he is eternally grateful for that.

“ Why are you here so late anyway ? “

“ Had to get some groceries. We’re gonna pretend I didn’t just come here because I had a huge craving for ice cream, okay ? “

He scoffs. This girl is ridiculous. And something about that makes her incredibly charming.

“ So, I assume you don’t wanna go home tonight ? “

He doesn’t. If Neil has discovered him gone, he can’t show up home again tonight. Not under any circumstances.

“ Not really, no. “

“ I have a pretty comfortable couch. It’s big enough for you and it comes with an extra fluffy cuddle companion. “

“ What does that mean ? “

“ I have a cat. His name is Luke Skywhiskers and he’s fat and orange and very clingy. So if you don’t mind that — “ she shrugs her shoulders in a way that shouldn’t be nearly as cute as it is.

Billy isn’t particularly fond of cats, then again he’s never really had a lot to do with any cats. Never being allowed to have any pet because they’re “dirty” and “cost a shit ton of money” according to Neil, Billy was never given the chance to really bond with an animal.

But then again, everything was better than going home.

“ Sounds alright. “

“ Okay, cool. “

“ Thank you, (Y/N). “

“ It’s no problem. Just follow my car and I’ll see you at my place then “ (Y/N) says, pats his chest and gets into her car.

As Billy get into the Camaro and slumps down in the seat he wonders how his night managed to end like this. Bloodied and bruised and one the way to spend the night at a complete strangers house.

A stranger who’s shown him more kindness in the last 24 hours than his dad did in the last almsot 18 years.

Maybe tonight wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe it was a solid 5.

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic

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cinnaminsvga · 6 years ago

Text

fox rain | one

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

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

— • masterlist | prev | one | next • —

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ow,” you whine lamely.

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut the fuck up, Sera.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not a good sign. At all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You really think so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suffice to say, you're in deep shit.

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

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

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

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

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

You know. The works.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You think that's all? It gets worse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hope rises just beyond the horizon.

He raises a finger, "But––"

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

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

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

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

"Hey!"

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

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

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

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

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

"How benevolent of you," you deadpan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you smiling at?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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cookinguptales · 5 years ago

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Today, SCOTUS is hearing arguments about whether businesses should have to cover birth control for their employees in their health insurance plans and I just. It’s hard to read.

I was going to make up this big informational persuasive post about the situation. But I’m just. I’m just so sad and angry and tired. So I figured I’d make an emotional one instead.

Let me tell you about my hormonal birth control journey.

(Rest under a cut for length and content. cw: mental illness, graphic discussion of medical issues, injuries, & menstruation, discussions of suicide & self-harm, discussion of opioids, alcohol, & recreational drug use.)

I started taking hormonal birth control late in high school to help regulate “painful periods”. It wasn’t for actual birth control at that point and I hadn’t been diagnosed with any disease, not even POTS yet. I just had “painful periods”.

Things were okay for a little while, but when I got to college, things started to fall apart. The double whammy of undiagnosed mental illness and a barely-diagnosed chronic illness (POTS was relatively unknown at the time and my doctors gave me information which I now know is incorrect) really caused me to spiral during my first year of college. I didn’t know it yet, but I react very poorly to some forms of hormonal birth control. Put succinctly, they drive me batshit insane. On one pill, I literally did not leave my apartment for over a month. I became very literally agoraphobic. Bouncing off the walls, irritable, angry, high suicidal ideation. As bad as side effects can be.

But I didn’t know that yet. I just stopped taking BC as part of the whirlwind of medicines and doctors that my life became for about two years while I was on my (first) medical leave from college.

My ribs were coming out back then. I didn’t know that yet, either. I knew that when I was around 16, I started getting severe back pains. The first time it happened, I had to go to the ER because I couldn’t breathe and my teachers thought I was having a heart attack. I got a narcotic shot in my butt. It did nothing to dull the pain. That’s how much it hurt. But it went away on its own eventually and I over the years I started medicating reoccurrences with a lot of different things. Physical therapy. Muscle relaxers. (Medically prescribed) opiates that made me puke. Prescription strength Advil. Wine.

I didn’t see that it was all connected yet. Not yet. I didn’t realize, with my periods as irregular as they were, that the back pains were coming around the same time in my cycle each time.

My “painful periods” got worse. I talked to an OBGYN, with my mother in the room. I told her that I was scared of something like childbirth. I knew that my blood flow was dangerously bad. What if the fetus didn’t get enough blood? Oh, my doctor laughed, that wasn’t a problem. The fetus would always get enough blood. The risk was that I wouldn’t. That it, like the tiny vampire it was, would take it all until I simply died. If I got pregnant, I would likely die. I asked about permanent sterilization. My mother cried. My doctor said no. I didn’t ask again.

I went back on birth control.

It was odd. I didn’t want children before that visit, not really. I was so tired all the time. I knew I’d never be able to manage to raise a child — and honestly, I didn’t care to try. I was so depressed. I was so sick. It sounded like so much work. I still don’t want to have kids. But it still feels… weird, knowing that I can’t. And knowing that I could die if I get knocked up.

I’m bisexual, but I have zero sexual contact with men (because I don’t love them, despite being somewhat sexually attracted to them) and zero sexual contact with people with penises (because they could literally kill me and it would be no one’s fault). But I’ve been followed home by men before. I’ve had cabbies lock me in and ask me for a date. I’ve had men who won’t take no for an answer. And my god, it terrifies me that I might have to deal with both sexual assault and a slowly creeping murder all at once.

(It’s laughable to think he’d be tried for both.)

I ended up getting sick off birth control a few times. I went on and off it periodically during my college career. I now in retrospect see that a lot of my “meltdowns” were a combination of discrimination-based stress, physical breakdowns, and hormonal whirlwinds. At my worst times, I was on birth control. The wrong ones.

My periods, over time, got worse. My back would hurt. The cramps were unbelievable. I couldn’t feel my legs. I could feel them too much. I couldn’t keep food down. I’d be so angry, so sad, so everything.

I went to the doctor again. I was diagnosed with both endometriosis and PMDD. PMDD, or premenstrual dysphoria disorder, is like PMS on steroids. I remember telling my doctor, in halting tones, that I wasn’t well before my periods. That I always had depression, always had anxiety, but I wasn’t well before periods. At her prodding, I confessed that sometimes I would just lie there for hours, for days, in the fetal position. That I’d clutch at my own arms, mooring myself, because I knew that those white knuckles were the only thing between me and killing myself. That my brain, always somewhat malevolent, became an inescapable mantra of death. That I’d just lie there and sob because it took everything I had not to hurt myself. That I’d find claw marks, bruises, on my arms later, and all I could do was get some ice.

It was better than the alternative.

I told my doctor about how painful my periods had always been. How I’d heard a story once about, y’know, that Spartan boy? The one who hid a fox kit under his shirt during an examination and stayed perfectly silent even as it clawed at him so he wouldn’t be caught with it? How it tore at his stomach until he fell down dead, still silent? I told her how I felt like I was holding a fox kit every damn month and sometimes I couldn’t stand the pain of it. Sometimes I considered ending that pain, one way or another.

She put me back on birth control.

A little less than a year later, or in layman’s terms, about a year ago, my mental health was so bad again that I was almost committed. Literally committed. I had to go stay with my parents for a few months while I transitioned to new medications because it wasn’t safe for me to be alone. I learned that the birth control I was on could create those symptoms — but they didn’t start until months after you’d started taking it. So you didn’t realize it was the medicine. You just assumed you were crazy and unlikable and so, so angry. At the world, at your loved ones, but mostly at yourself.

I learned, around that time, that I also had Ehlers-Danlos syndrome. That the pain I felt every month right before my period wasn’t just cramps. It was my bones coming undone from their sockets. It was my hips dislocating. It was my ribs popping out of my spine. I realized that that lump my parents could feel in my back wasn’t a hard knot of tense muscles. It was my fucking rib poking out of my back. I learned that there is a period right before menstruation that mimics a period during pregnancy where your joints loosen — your body thinks it is preparing you for birth, for loosening your pelvic cavity so an entire head can pass through. For someone with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, that period of joint looseness was enough to wreak absolute havoc on a system of already-weakened joints.

I learned how to put my own ribs back in with a foam roller. I started drinking marijuana tea for the pain. I went on a different birth control. I stopped taking the placebo pills. I had to fully eradicate that entire portion of my cycle. Goodbye PMDD and ribs constantly popping out. I don’t miss you!

I am still on that pill, y’know. Every day I take it and wonder if I’m one step closer to the day when it inevitably destroys me. The last one took about a year. Tick tock.

Or maybe I finally found the one that works… I really just don’t know.

The fact of the matter is that I have a full handful of maladies that require birth control so I can function. PMDD, endometriosis, dangerous pregnancy, EDS. I need hormonal birth control. I would probably be dead by now without it. The PMDD especially was that bad. My internal organs are likely a scarred-up mess. But the birth control itself almost killed me, too. God, it was close.

Simply put, birth control is heaven and hell all wrapped up in a pill. It treats illnesses and it prevents pregnancy. In other words, it provides you with both freedom and peace of mind. It is absolutely essential. But it’s also monstrous. The sheer number of sometimes-deadly side effects that come with hormonal treatments is staggering. Which is why you need to be under a doctor’s careful eye when you’re on it. You need to be free to choose whichever brand you need. You need to be free to switch kinds at a moment’s notice. None of these things are possible in a system where these pills are not fully covered by insurance.

(And yes, I know, this is a stupidly American problem in so many ways. Obviously the ideal thing here would be single-payer for all medical procedures. But that’s not up for debate here and insurance for BC is. Because for some reason we let some people’s religious convictions determine others’ health care. But I digress.)

Please don’t worry too much for me. I have a good employer who has told me in no uncertain terms that I don’t need to worry about my healthcare coverage. But there are so many people just like me. Who may not have diagnoses yet. Who may have “problem bodies”. Who only know that they need to do something and that they might have to go through several pills to find it. Whose employers either have the strong religious belief that hormonal birth control is a sin or the strong religious belief that they want to pay as little as possible for their workers’ health care. (Call me cynical.)

Those are the people I worry about. Those are the people I feel absolutely sick over as I watch the SCOTUS argue whether we should be allowed to have life-saving medicine. The people who I know will fall through the cracks the second that the cracks are widened enough for them to do so. The people who will die.

It’s a tense time right now. It’s a tense time for very obvious reasons. But this morning I find myself to be even tenser, and my stomach hurts thinking about it. It feels like all I can do is stare at a pill packet and remember every horrible reason I need it and every horrible thing it’s done to me and I just.

It’s a lot.

#long post #just me #handsoffmybc #birth control #feelin some kind of way this morning #please mind the cws #PMDD is one of those illnesses that I wish was more discussed #I feel like one day I'll make an entire post about how dangerous PMDD is #and how our cultural dismissal of PMS is dangerous #and unfair for that matter

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bobasheebaby · 6 years ago

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The World We Made- Be Careful What You Wish For chapter 9

Pairing: Drake x MC; Liam x MC

Word count: 1,261

Warnings: character death, Evil Liam

Summary: Press conference and news comes to light.

Song inspiration: The World We Made by Ruelle

A/N: A huge thank you to @sirbeepsalot for all of her help and advice and being an ever patient sounding board. (MoE thanks DoE as well.) I have no excuse, but I told you you might not be happy. Okay, okay I cave, but I warned you!

Series warnings: Evil Liam, dark!fic, deceit, manipulation, dub con, possible NSFW content, possible character death. This is taking the Liam from TRH to the extreme, he is not the Liam we know and love. By clicking read more you acknowledge you are at least 18 years of age.

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters, I’m simply borrowing from PB for a bit.

Liam drummed his fingers against his dark mahogany desk. He would have preferred to announce their engagement shortly after returning from New York but he had a few obstacles he needed to deal with before he could. Just a few more days my love.

His phone lit up, a wry smile spreading upon his lips.

He’ll be released into Mr Lykel’s care tomorrow.

It’s about damn time!

Liam: Excellent.

He was told to keep him calm, I believe he decided on taking him camping.

Liam’s smirk grew sinister. Oh Bas, I do hope you are fully prepared.

Two days later...

“I think we’re lost. I’m pretty sure we made a wrong turn somewhere back there.” He spun, taking in his surroundings. “Dude! Are you listening to me?! I said I think we’re lost!”

“Can it dude! I think something happened here.”

“Oh god, there aren’t any bears around here are there? Are we safe?”

“There aren’t any bears in Cordonia, remember.” He shoved his companions shoulder. “That’s the reason we came here. Cause it sure as hell ain’t for the babes.”

“What babes?”

“Exactly. And if you do find a halfway decent girl she acts like she’s better than us.”

“What do you think happened here?”

Eyes scanned the clearing, tent half standing, disturbed earth like there had been a struggle, boat capsized in the middle of the lake, bloody trail from the camp to the lake. “Nothing good.”

“Should we call for help?”

“What are you, and idiot?! We look to see if any valuables were left behind and then we call for help.”

“Heh. Dude good plan.”

Shuffling of feet, a crunch. “What was that?”

“Looks like a note.”

Rebecca,

I loved you with all my heart. Clearly you weren’t the woman I thought you were or you never would have left me when I was at my lowest. I can’t bare to continue without you by my side, hopefully whoever is on the other side will understand and not fault me for what I’m about to do.

All my love,

Drake

Rebecca stepped towards the podium, her arm linked through Liam’s. The press erupted into a flurry of questions and flashes. Liam raised his free hand, silencing the crowd in an instant. “It is with great pleasure that I announce my engagement to Duchess Rebecca.” He turned beaming at her. You’re finally mine. Nothing is in our way now.

The crowd shared stunned looks. “Your Majesty, isn’t Duchess Rebecca married to Duke Drake?”

Liam smiled, not even fazed by the question. “Duchess Rebecca and Drake Walker were kind enough to help flush out a threat. Shortly before my coronation it was brought to my attention that there was a faction who wished to bring Cordonia and I to our knees. The scandal that followed was orchestrated by them. I chose Madeline hoping to bide time as there were also threats made directly against Lady Rebecca. We were able to easily locate Tariq to clear her name but unable to find those behind the plots. Duchess Rebecca and Drake Walker had both offered to pose engaged to help draw them out as by that time threats had also been made against me directly. We were unable to draw them out until the evening after they were ‘married.’ I would like to apologize to the country for any confusion our plans to put those who wished to destroy Cordonia may have caused.”

“Why are we just hearing of this now months after the Sons of Earth were stop?”

“There were still a few members we needed to flush out. Also I wanted to ensure that the entire threat had been eradicated before I exposed our hand. As of this morning all known members of the Sons of Earth have been punished to the full extent of the law.”

“Does that mean—”

“Anton and his supporters were executed this morning. Cordonia is officially safe.”

Olivia stared unblinkingly at the television as she watched the ease with which Liam lied to the press. That smooth bastard. She picked up her phone dialing his number. Play ball, killing Anton and freeing me was as much a threat as it was a gift. She knew he was up to something and she had made her choice, play it smart, don’t get in his way, survive.

“Duchess Olivia, I was expecting your call.”

She forced a smile, he wouldn’t be able to see it, but he should be able to hear it in her tone. He’d won, gotten what he wanted, now she needed to show she supported him and appreciated what he did for her. “Liam, I saw the press release. I wanted to apologize for offering to carry your heir. Had I known that Drake and Rebecca were merely a ruse I would never have suggested it.” She paused, the lies coming from her mouth turning her stomach. Survive. “I also wanted to thank you for releasing me from my marriage to Anton.”

“Of course, anything for a friend.”

She winced at the thinly veiled threat. Oh how she wanted to put him in his place, but it was clearer than ever that he’d become even worse than Constantine to get what he wanted. I won’t become collateral damage. “I’m leaving the country for a bit so I will be unable to attend your wedding but I wish you and Rebecca all happiness life can bring.” She tuned him out, as she fought back the bile. She finally hung up the phone. Dialing another number. “Come on come on. Pick up!” She tapped her foot as she waited for an answer, she needed to warn them before it was too late. She sighed as it clicked to voicemail. Hopefully Bastien and Drake are smart enough to know to stand down and leave.

Later...

Rebecca clicked on the tv in the Royal Apartments, their home. She’d become bored when Liam was called for urgent business. Maybe there is something mindless I can watch. She rolled her eyes. She stopped channel surfing as the headline broke across the bottom of the screen.

HEAD OF THE ROYAL GUARD MISSING AND EX COMMONER DRAKE WALKER ASSUMED DEAD IN APPARENT SUICIDE

She stared at the screen. Drake, dead? She jumped as she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry to scare you.”

She shook her head with a laugh. “It’s fine, I just didn’t realize you were back.”

“I didn’t want you to find out like that.” Liam gestured to the screen, the image of the strewn campsite on the screen, people out dragging the lake. “Are you okay love?”

She flicked her eyes back to the screen before turning with a broad smile. “I’m fine.”

Liam looked at her stunned. “Are you sure? It’s okay if you aren’t.” He sat next to her, placing a comforting arm around her.

“Do you want me to be sad? I’m sure I can pretend.” She flipped her golden blonde hair over her shoulder, allowing her face to fall, lower lip subtly shaking. “Though I’m not sure why you’d want me to be sad.” She straddled his lap batting her lashes. “Isn’t this what you wanted, you and me, happily ever after?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Isn’t that why you did everything? Made Drake go crazy, I’m pretty sure you had something to do with him being sterile, and now you had Drake killed and probably Bastien too, right?”

Liam swallowed, I sure how to respond. “You’re not upset?”

“Why would I be? You finally fought for me.”

Feedback fuels me, please like, comment reblog or send an ask. Feel free to scream, I promise I can take it.

Masterlist can be found in my bio.

Taglist will be reblogged.

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cutaepatootie · 6 years ago

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Animal - 07

Pairing: Jungkook | Reader Genre: boxer jungkook | just plain angst muahahha Word Count: 11k

Warnings: mentions of drugs, violence, blood, wounds…

A/N: here it is chapter 7! Maybe you have to re-read part 6 to understand what’s going on... Sorry for taking so long to update :(

previous chapter ← 07 → next chapter

At the mention of Jungkook’s name, you sprang into action.

“Alright, I’m coming… But… But I have no car, Evey brought me here and… And I…” you were stuttering, your brain barely functioning.

“Don’t worry about a car right now, just call an uber and come here,” Taehyung said once he saw you wouldn’t form any coherent phrase. “And… Don’t tell Evey, alright?”

You blinked a few times, before Taehyung said ‘alright’ again and you answered with another soft ‘alright’. That’s how the conversation ended.

Soon, you were running through the mass of bodies, texting Evey and letting her know you hadn’t been feeling alright and that you had gone home.

The uber arrived in fifteen minutes – the longest fifteen minutes of your life – and as soon as you climbed on the backseat, you opened the texting app and recited the address Taehyung had sent you.

It wasn’t far from there, in the outskirts of the city.

Your mind was racing as your eyes followed the streetlamps that looked like fairy lights from the inside of the car. At some point, you closed your eyes and started taking deep breaths, feeling your heart in your throat.

Jungkook.

Was he alright? Had something happened to him?

Your palms were sweating, cold sweat, and they were trembling like crazy, little veins tracing your skin as your knuckles turned white from the force with which you were balling your hands into fists.

A thousand scenarios were running through your head, each one worse than the others.

“Miss,” the uber driver told you once the car had come to a stop.

You hadn’t even realized you had reached your destination, too busy closing your eyes and trying to stop your heart from falling from your mouth.

You paid him, not even waiting to pick the change and ran out of the car. Following Maps in your phone, you ran through the deserted streets.

You found Taehyung in the entrance of a dark alley, looking desperate and wild.

“Tae!” you shouted as soon as you saw him.

“Y/N!” he shouted back.

You threw yourself at him – if you hadn’t done that, you would have probably fallen face-first onto the ground.

“Where’s Jungkook? Is he okay? What happened? I –“

“Y/N, calm down,” Taehyung said, grabbing you from your shoulders as you tried to look behind him. “We need you with a cold mind, please relax.”

“How can you ask me to relax when you told me Jungkook needs me?” you said, bewildered. “Where’s him?”

Taehyung’s sighed and let go of you.

You followed him through the alley until you reached the spot in between some trash cans and a fence.

“Jungkook!” you couldn’t help but scream as soon as you saw his body limp, half of it fallen onto the ground, half resting on the brick wall behind him.

You kneeled beside him, instantly reaching out to touch him.

All plans and stupidity being left aside, you started mumbling his name.

“Jungkook, hey, Jungkook, can you hear me? Jungkook.”

“He’s unconscious,” Taehyung said from behind you. “I’ve tried waking him up, but I think he hit his head pretty hard against the ground.”

You then repaired in Jungkook’s appearance, for real. He had blood dripping down his nose, and a dark bruise was forming in one of his cheeks. He had a small cut on his lower lip, and his grey hoodie was dirty. They were bruises, but bruises that weren’t unusual for him.

It was the blood stain that was growing on one side of his hoodie that caught your attention.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, clasping one hand over your mouth. “But… Oh my god. He has been shot!”

You looked at Taehyung, who was looking incredibly guilty. He also had bruises all over his face, and he didn’t look any better than Jungkook did, except for the fact that he had no gunshot hole in his jumper, nor did he had stains of blood.

“W… What the fuck happened?!” you asked, your pointer and middle finger pressing over Jungkook’s carotid artery to find his pulse. “He has been shot, oh my god…” you kept mumbling.

When you felt a soft thump beneath your fingertips you relaxed a bit.

Taehyung wasn’t answering, he just couldn’t answer to that question in that moment, and your mind was working so fast that you didn’t even care.

“Okay… Doesn’t matter right now,” you said, trying to calm yourself. “We need to take him to the hospital.”

“What?! No, he can’t go to the hospital.”

“He has been shot, Taehyung! We need to see if the bullet has reached any vital organs or if there is an internal bleeding!”

“If we carry him to the hospital with a bullet wound, police will appear, and Jungkook can’t afford that right now,” Taehyung said in a calmer tone. You didn’t know if he was trying to calm you or if he was trying to calm himself. “They would start asking questions and…”

“If we don’t take him to the hospital right now, he’ll keep losing blood and he will die!” you said, teeth clenched as you couldn’t understand why Taehyung refused to bring his friend to the hospital.

“That’s why I called you, you’re a nurse, you should know how to take care of him.”

You stood up, taking some steps closer towards Taehyung.

“I’m a nurse, not a fucking surgeon!” you said, pausing briefly before continuing. “Wait, no, I’m not even a nurse yet! I’m a student!”

“Yeah, but you work as a nurse at the fights.”

“Yeah! But sewing up small cuts and bruises, not healing bullet wounds! I haven’t seen a bullet wound in my life, only studied what to do with it!”

“You already know more than I do, then,” Taehyung tried reasoning with you. “Listen, Y/N, we have no time to waste. Jungkook’s not going to the hospital, he’d rather die than answer the questions of all those fucking cops. If they catch him and get him into jail, it’ll be the end of him, you already know that, Y/N.”

You took some steps back from Taehyung and Jungkook, threading your fingers in your hair and pulling from the roots in a desperate act. It all felt like a nightmare, a really fucking bad nightmare.

Lifting your eyes just a tiny bit to stare at Jungkook’s unmoving body made you sick.

“Argh…” you growled, drawing your hands down your face and closing your eyes as you did so.

You had studied a lot of things but putting them into practice was a completely different thing. And, being a bit egoistic, you wouldn’t be able to live with the idea that you had killed Jungkook. On the other hand, you knew what Taehyung was saying was true. Jungkook already had some issues with the law, he had escaped from the hospital when he had that car accident and you guess he had way more issues than that, let alone whatever shit was he into at the moment. If you took him to the hospital and they saw his bullet wound, they would immediately call the police and they would start making too many questions…

“Alright, alright…” you mumbled.

You patted your cheeks a couple of times before opening your eyes and staring at Taehyung. You were only a few months away from graduating, you were practically a nurse. You could do that.

“Alright,” you nodded, looking at Taehyung. “We’ll take him to my apartment, I have some medical supplies in there…”

You started counting internally all the supplies you had at home. Some steri-strips, needles, disinfectant, sterile gloves… Even some intravenous saline.

“Great, great,” Taehyung nodded. “My car is just parked a few streets away.”

“Go grab it, I’ll be here with Jungkook waiting for you.”

“Alright.”

He nodded again, but he stayed there watching you. You could see it in his face, he was just as affected as you were.

“Go, don’t worry, everything will be fine.”

Or so you hoped.

Taehyung nodded a third time before turning around and running towards his car.

You were still pressing your scarf over Jungkook’s bullet wound when Taehyung walked inside your apartment carrying him in his arms.

He was still unconscious, but his breathing was steady and his heartbeat strong.

“Put him on my bed, last door at the end of the corridor,” you said as soon as you stepped a foot inside your apartment, rushing to close the door behind you and take your coat off, leaving it on the floor.

“Keep pressing on his wound with my scarf!” you ordered Taehyung as you grabbed your supplies from the cupboard under the TV and the bathroom.

It was a shocking sight, to see Jungkook in your bed again, that time for way more different reasons.

“Alright,” you said to yourself, trying to order the thoughts that were running through your mind. “Alright.”

Taehyung stood still, staring at you with uncertain eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asked in a soft voice.

It took you some more seconds to go back to reality and answer him.

“Yes, yes,” you finally said. “Take his hoodie and the rest of his clothes off, leaving him only in his boxers. I’ll start preparing everything.”

As Taehyung undressed Jungkook, you rushed to wash your hands in the bathroom, put some gloves on and start setting your sterile field.

“Gauzes, disinfectant… Scalpel…” you counted.

“Where do I leave his clothes?” Taehyung asked.

“Leave them inside the shower, I’ll take care of them later.”

He nodded and disappeared from you room. You took that as a chance to look back at Jungkook. He was paler and paler by each passing second.

“Hold on, please, hold on,” you desperately pleaded, passing your hand over his forehead. At least he didn’t have a fever, so the wound or the organs affected by it weren’t infected yet.

“I’m back, I’m back,” Taehyung said, kneeling at the other side of the bed.

You didn’t know why you both repeated each thing two times each time one of you spoke. It was as if you were reassuring yourselves.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Grab my nightstand lamp and give me some light please.”

Taehyung did as you said while you climbed on top of your bed, careful not to touch anything from your sterile field.

Your hands were trembling as you touched the area around the bullet wound, pressing and pinching, trying to find any signs of any organ being affected or bleeding.

“It looks like it hasn’t reached any abdominal organ,” you said, your hands still feeling around Jungkook’s taut stomach. “That’s a good sign, a very good one.”

Taehyung simply nodded, watching you work with careful eyes.

“We’ll se if I can get the bullet out.”

You cleaned the wound and the area around with some gauzes and water with soap.

Your hands trembled even more as you took off your normal gloves and put some sterile ones on. Once you were fully sterile, you grabbed the surgical tweezers and opened the wound. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted off from your shoulders as soon as you saw the metallic shine of the bullet.

Luckily, the shoot hadn’t been to up-close and the bullet hadn’t gone too far into Jungkook’s abdomen, barely reaching the muscle tissue.

Grabbing another pair of tweezers, you carefully got the bullet out of Jungkook’s abdomen.

Without giving yourself time to think about what you had just done, you started sewing up the wound, careful to leave both ends next to each other so they could scar quickly. Then, you applied some antiseptic and steri-strip in some of the places of the wound that looked more fragile to you.

Covering the wound with a fresh dressing, you patted the area, making sure the hemorrhage had stopped.

“Is it done?” Taehyung asked when he saw you staying still.

“Yeah, it’s done,” you nodded.

“And now what?”

You stared at Jungkook’s face. He had started sweating, probably from the pain he had been feeling despite being unconscious.

“Do you believe in God, Taehyung?” you asked out of the blue. Before he could answer, you did. “Because all we can do now is pray.”

. . .

After taking care of the rest of Jungkook’s wounds, you cleaned everything and threw it in the bin.

You cleaned the medical supplies from Jungkook’s blood in the sink of your bathroom, the marble material turning a reddish color as you asked yourself how many more times you were going to clean Jungkook’s blood.

Closing the tap, you looked upwards and stared at your reflection in the mirror. Hair greasy and disheveled, mascara ruined, dark circles under your eyes and pale skin, eyes red and puffy from crying and being tired. You looked great.

“How’s him?” you asked, entering your room were Jungkook was still fighting, lying underneath your blankets.

You had switched on the heating so he wouldn’t turn cold.

“I don’t know,” Taehyung sighed, letting his head fall onto his hands.

You walked towards him and placed your hand over his shoulders.

“C’mon, I have to take care of that cut above your nose.”

Taehyung sat at the feet of your bed as you cleaned his wounds and applied some disinfectant and antibacterial cream.

“Can you explain me now what happened?” you sighed. “And don’t just tell me that you got shot, tell me the reason why.”

You could feel Taehyung sighing, his shoulders slumping.

You dabbed delicately the cut above his nose with a cotton pad soaked in disinfectant.

“Fine… But please, don’t tell Evey. Nor about this, not about what I’m going to tell you. Please.”

You stared into his eyes, a delicate frown drawing itself over your forehead. You stopped your movements with the cotton pad and leant back a few centimeters.

“What is it, Taehyung?”

“Please, promise me.”

“What’s so wrong about it that Evey can’t know anything?”

“Y/N, promise me you won’t tell her.”

You opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water.

“Tae, she’s my best friend, you can’t ask something like that from me.”

“Alright, if you don’t do it for me, do it for her,” Taehyung desperately pleaded. “The less she knows, the better. She’ll be safer.”

“You’re scaring me, Tae,” you said, voice merely a whisper as you sat on the balls of your feet, staring with wide eyes at the man sitting at the feet of your bed.

“Promise me, Y/N.”

“I… I promise you,” you stuttered. “Tell me already, what have you and Jungkook gotten yourselves into?”

Taehyung took a deep breath and leant forward, his elbows resting on his thighs as his head hang low.

“We stopped when we met Sungho,” he started. “He told us about the fights and said we could make a lot of money, that we wouldn’t have to worry about paying the rent or making ends meet… Never again. He introduced us to the boys and created a small family. Each one of us found in the other boys the father, mother, brother, we had never had.”

Taehyung took a brief pause, a long sigh escaping his lips.

“Sungho saw potential in Jungkook because he already knew how to fight a bit, and started focusing on him, training him, bringing him to the underground fights, introducing him to his contacts… And once he started fighting, Jungkook became Sungho’s own little goose that laid the golden eggs.”

“That was a year and a half ago,” you nodded.

“Yeah, almost two years ago. Jungkook became obsessed with fighting and wining and training and being the best. If he lost a fight, he would stay the whole night in the gym, training until he couldn’t even lift his arms. He didn’t stop until he won Bobby, and that’s exactly what Sungho wanted… But now he wants more, and Jungkook being a champion is not enough.”

“In what sense?”

Taehyung lifted his eyes so he was staring at you.

“He wants more money, more power, more and more. I guess he has dragged us with him…”

You frowned. “What are you talking about, Taehyung?”

Taehyung gulped.

“Sungho heard about what Jungkook and I did before he met us, and he took interest in it.”

“Took interest in what?” you pushed him. “What did you and Jungkook do?”

The silence that followed your question was sending chills down your spine.

“Tae…”

“We dealt, Y/N. We were dealers.”

You blinked rapidly as the words sank in. They. Were. Dealers.

“As in…” gulp. “Deal… With… With drugs?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung breathed. “We worked for an important drug lord who owns the business in this city. He has people everywhere, he controls everything and he basically is everywhere. We were nothing but two young dealers who dealt at university parties and clubs at the outskirts of the city, but we were his drug dealers. I don’t know if you know this… But once you work as a dealer for a drug lord, there is no going back, you can’t just decide that you want a normal job one day and disappear, no. It’s forever.”

“So, how did the two of you get out of that?”

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders, averting his eyes from yours once again. He started at his still unconscious friend lying on your bed, naked torso heaving slowly.

“We spoke to him, payed our debt and swore we would never talk. He had the names of our families, the directions of our homes… We had too much to lose if we talked, so we never did. He kept an eye on us in case we betrayed him, and we never did… Until a few months ago. Sungho heard that we were dealers and started asking questions about it. Jungkook and I thought it was normal, since he was our new boss. But then, he started asking about money, and how the business worked. He told us he had a contact in the north of the country that could give him good quality material for us to sell. We told him that it would be impossible, that Mr. Kang, our previous boss, owned the entirety of the city and that he didn’t like rivalry. He wouldn’t allow any other drug lord in his city.”

Another pause, Taehyung shook his head, memories assaulting his mind.

“But Sungho didn’t listen to us, he just saw the money and the power it would bring him. He said he had contacts and that Mr. Kang wouldn’t be able to touch us. He… He put it so great that we only saw the extra money we would earn, and we agreed. We became his dealers –“

“Wait,” you interrupted him, asking him to stop with a raised hand. “Are you telling me… Are you telling me that you and Jungkook have been dealing drugs this whole time?”

“Yeah.”

A image came to your head… How could have you been so naïve? That night, at the party before the Christmas holidays you had seen it all. Sungho had been searching around for Jungkook, and Jungkook had been missing. You remembered seeing him in that dark alley, those girls laughing as they walked away from him. You remembered how he stayed behind, keeping something in the pockets of his jeans… Fuck.

“Oh my god, Tae,” you gasped, covering your mouth with the palm of your hand.

“Mr. Kang heard about us, discovered Sungho’s business and he put a price to our heads. We’ve hidden from them thanks to Sungho’s contacts, but his contacts aren’t everywhere, and tonight, they found us.”

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you mumbled, hiding your face behind your hands, threading your hands through your hair. “Oh my fucking god.”

“We were lucky that a police car passed by and they ran away, but I don’t know if we’ll be so lucky next time,” Taehyung carried on. “They will eventually find us, and when they do…”

“Oh my god,” you repeated, lifting your head up and staring at him.

“This is why you can’t tell Evey,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t risk putting her in more danger than she already is. They’ll go after our loved ones, it’s best if we kept them away from all this.”

You nodded on autopilot, your mind still processing that a huge drug lord wanted Jungkook and Taehyung dead, and probably, Evey and the rest of your friends too.

“This is too much, too dangerous. You know what those guys are like, Taehyung? They have all the money in the world, people move because of money, people would do anything for them and a couple of bucks.”

“I know, I know, I worked for him, remember?”

“Why did you reach out to me, then? This is too much for me, I don’t belong here, this is not my world. Why didn’t you tell any of the other boys? They would know how to help you better than I can.”

“They don’t know about this, any of this,” Taehyung said, shaking his head. “And they can’t know, for the same reason as Evey can’t know.”

You scoffed. “But I can? Am I not in danger or what?”

Taehyung pursed his lips.

“I’m really sorry I have involved you in this, I’m sure Jungkook will never forgive me for this…” Taehyung said, eyes glossy as he searched for your eyes in the dim light of your room. “But I was desperate and Jungkook had been shot… You were my only option.”

You nodded your head slowly, sinking everything in.

“It’s not fair…”

“I know it’s not fair, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry. Jungkook is like a brother to me, I love him so much, I couldn’t stand the idea of losing him and I had to set my priorities.”

“And I wasn’t one of them,” you said, nodding slowly.

“Y/N, it isn’t like –“

“No,” you interrupted him. “I get it Tae, I do. I just wish I was someone’s priority for once.”

“You already are… You…” Taehyung stuttered, stopping himself.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” you shrugged, grabbing the things you had used to heal Taehyung’s wounds and putting them inside a plastic bag.

“No, it isn’t. I also called you because I knew as soon as you knew it was about Jungkook, you wouldn’t be able to refuse. I knew you wouldn’t say no.”

Your head snapped up to his just when you were about to stand up from the floor.

“Why? Why did you know that?”

Taehyung scoffed softly.

“C’mon, Y/N, everyone can see you’re crazy about Jungkook,” he said. “You could bite water if it was for him. You’re in love with him.”

“I’m not –“

“Don’t try to deny it,” Taehyung was the one who interrupted you then. “I can see how you look at him and how you act all tough and indifferent around him, but each time he’s hurt you hurt for him, each time he’s happy you smile and each time he stares at you, you blush. You’re so in love it hurts to see from afar.”

Your nostrils flared.

“It’s definitive, I’m gonna kill Evey.”

“Evey? Why?”

“What? She didn’t tell you.”

“She already knew you were in love with Jungkook?”

“Shh!” you shushed him loudly. “He could hear us!”

“C’mon, he’s unconscious.”

“Well, they say that the hearing is the last sense a person loses when they’re unconscious.”

Although, you didn’t know why you were worrying so much about Jungkook hearing Taehyung’s words when he already knew you loved him.

“This is so fucked up,” you said, turning serious once again. You rubbed your temples with both hands, a headache starting to grow.

“It is, and I’m so sorry for getting you in the middle of all this but… Jungkook needed you.”

You nodded, finally standing up from the floor and grabbing the plastic bag in which all your used medical supplies had been kept.

“It’s okay,” you sighed. “I would probably do it all over again even after knowing that some bad ass drug lord and half of the population of this city is after you.”

You heard Taehyung sigh and mumble something under his breath, but you didn’t give it a second thought.

After all that had happened, and all the new information you had gotten, you were drained from all energy and you needed to rest.

“You can stay here tonight, or well, for as long as you want,” you told Taehyung. “You can sleep on the couch tonight, I’ll sleep in my armchair and look after Jungkook.”

“You’re tired, you should sleep on the couch instead. I’ll look after –“

“I haven’t been punched on the face and my nose hasn’t been nearly broken, you should sleep on the couch. And you should text Evey and tell her your right or something before she shows up in here panicking. Tell her you’ll be busy this weekend and that you won’t be able to see her.”

Taehyung helped you preparing the couch after sending Evey a text. You ate some leftovers you had in your fridge while you both chattered about anything and everything at the same time. After a warm red tea, you took a very much needed hot shower, cleaned your face and got rid of all the ruined mascara, blow-dried your hair and put on your comfiest pyijama.

With a blanket and your mobile charger in mind, you entered your room.

Jungkook was lying on the same position you had first left him. The moonlight seeped in your room at that hour of the night, just like any other night, and just like many nights before, its milky light poured over Jungkook’s skin. It looked as if he was made of marble, so perfect and defined. But, as your eyes traveled down his naked torso, you found the bandages covering his abdomen and flinched.

Cautiously, you took a seat next to him on the bed, cleaning the sweat from his forehead and making sure he didn’t have a fever. Passing a cloth soaked in cool water all over his face, you observed every feature of his. From the little mole under his lower lip, to his big nose, to his round eyes.

You were just torturing yourself, so you shook your head and sat on the armchair that decorated one of the corners of your room. With your blanket on and your mobile charging by your side, your eyes on Jungkook, you started drifting off to sleep.

. . .

The weekend went by in slow motion.

You barely went out of your room, unless you had to go to the bathroom or you felt hungry. You were afraid Jungkook’s state would worsen when you weren’t in the room with him, so you just stayed there, ass glued to your armchair as your eyes never left his unmoving form.

Three times a day, you cleaned him with warm water, to wash away all the sweat from his body. You also changed the bandage that covered his wound, observing that it wasn’t getting infected or that the stitches didn’t separate form each other so the wound could open.

It was pure torture to you, both physically and mentally, the thought of Jungkook dying in your bed haunting you every night.

If you had taken him to the hospital, they would have extracted the bullet in an operating room, everything sterile. They would have transfused him some blood too, making up for all he lost. But you had no operating room, nor blood you could transfuse him, you just had your gauzes, your bottle of antiseptic and the hope that it would all be enough.

Jungkook was strong, but you didn’t know how far that strength could go.

Taehyung had gone home on Sunday morning, telling Evey that he would be out of town so she didn’t go to his apartment and see his wounded face. You had been avoiding Evey – again – as Taehyung had told you to, not wanting her to know about any of that. You had also called to the hospital, telling them you were sick and that you wouldn’t be able to go that week.

The only thing you could do now was wait.

Should you call his mother? No, you didn’t even have her number and he would kill you if you told your mother about all that. If he didn’t want her to know that he fought, imagine telling her that he dealt with drugs. No. You couldn’t do that to him.

Inside, you were feeling a mixture of things. From anger to fear. From resentment to confusion. He had rejected you in the worst possible way he could have rejected you, and yet, there you were, taking care of him. Your relationship with Jungkook – if it could be called that – was a spiral of things, and you had grown tired of it. You had never been in love before, but you were sure love wasn’t supposed to hurt like that.

After thinking and thinking, you had finally drifted off to sleep once more, mind blank as you let your body rest for once.

It was the noise of grunts and movement that snapped you awake.

Confusedly, you blinked a few times, trying to adjust your eyes to the darkness in the room. Your neck ached from sleeping three nights in a row in an armchair, and your whole body felt weak, you weren’t ready to fight some stranger breaking into your house.

Your eyes landed on the body on your bed, usually still but now moving.

“Jungkook?” you asked, eyes widening.

Jungkook was tossing and turning, growling things under his breath.

“Jungkook,” you called him once more, walking towards him and kneeling besides him.

Your hands instantly touched his forehead. It was burning.

No… He couldn’t have a fever, please, that wasn’t a good sign.

“Jungkook, hey,” you whispered.

He had a frown drawn over his forehead, eyes closed and lips turned upside-down.

“I’m here, don’t worry, you’re not alone,” you softly whispered, leaning closer to him as your hands pushed his bangs away from his sweaty forehead. “What hurts, huh?”

“T… Taehyung?” he mumbled.

“Taehyung’s not here, he’s –“

“Taehyung?! Taehyung?!” Jungkook said, starting to raise his voice as his movements became brusquer.

“Jungkook, he’s not here, he’s at home, he’s safe.”

“Taehyung!”

He finally opened his eyes and sat himself on the bed, pulling away your hands from him. As soon as he sat, he let out a howl of pain, his hands flying to the bandage on his abdomen.

“No, no,” you mumbled, pushing his shoulders and pushing him down on the bed. “Don’t sit.”

Jungkook then focused his eyes on you, widening them at recognizing your face.

“Y/N?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you nodded, trying to calm him. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Where am I? Why are you here?”

“You’re at my apartment, Taehyung is safe at his, resting and recovering.”

“Is he hurt?!” Jungkook said, alarmed.

“Just a small cut on his nose, he didn’t even need stitches. I cleaned his wounds and sent him home.”

Jungkook sighed in what felt like relief, his eyes travelling towards the ceiling of your room, a ceiling he knew better than the palm of his hand. He could remember all the countless sleepless nights in your bed staring at the ceiling, mind reeling as you slept peacefully by his side.

You watched as he closed his eyes. You could almost hear the mechanism of his brain working.

“How did I get here?” he asked after a few seconds.

“Taehyung called me on Friday night…” you cautiously said, not knowing if he would get angry or not. Maybe he didn’t want to be there, with you… “He told me you needed my help and I went searching for you…”

Jungkook opened his eyes and stared at you, face blank and impassible.

“And you helped me? After all that has happened?”

You sighed, looking down. “I had no other option. It was either that or letting you die in that alley. I wanted to take you to the hospital, but Tae refused.”

“After all I’ve done to you, you could have just gone home and let me die in there,” he lifted his arm cautiously to gently brush away the hair from his forehead.

“Yeah, maybe that’s what you deserved,” you said, a roll of eyes to indicate him that it was far from what you thought. No one deserved to die for feeling like he did… Maybe for how he had treated you, but nah, it was not a good enough reason to die. “But I have something called conscience and it would have never let me live with it if I had just left you there to die. Any other decent person would have done the same.”

Jungkook sighed and the sound of air escaping softly through his lips was the only noise that was heard in the room for a couple of minutes.

“Don’t you have questions? You always have thousands,” he said.

You averted your eyes from the covers of your bed, eyes finding his in the darkness of the room. The sky was cloudy and no moonlight seeped into your room. You could see the pained expression on Jungkook’s face, though. It was almost agonic.

“No,” you shrugged, reaching towards your bedside table were you kept the painkillers and a glass of water. “Tae already told me everything. Here,” you said, handing him a pill and the glass of water. “Drink it, it’ll help you with the pain and the fever.”

“What does ‘Tae told me everything’ mean?” Jungkook said, eyes suddenly wide as he ignored the pill and the glass of water you were offering him.

“What it means, there’s no other meaning behind it. I know what happened and why,” you said.

Jungkook stared at you for a few more seconds and then, he let out a frustrated noise.

“Fuck,” you could hear him say. “I’m gonna fucking kill Taehyung. Does Evey know about this?”

“He begged me not to tell her.”

“That bast –“ he grunted, stopping himself. “He can keep his girl away from all this shit, but instead he has to involve min –“

He took a deep breath to stop himself once again from finishing that sentence, eyes staring into you. Had he been about to say ‘mine’? You shook your head at the thought.

“He had no other option, Jungkook, he was desperate to save you. You didn’t look good, you were dying.”

Jungkook closed his eyes and lifted his other arm to pinch the bridge of his nose, forgetting about the wound situated in the left side of his abdomen. A roaring pain ran through his body, and he let out a howl as he brought both of his hands towards the wound.

“Wait,” you urged him, kneeling on the bed besides him. “Don’t touch it, and don’t move, the stitches are still a bit fresh and if you apply force towards that spot they’ll break.”

You grabbed his hands, pushing them away from his wound and resting on his sides. You lit the lamp on your bedside table and started opening your first-aid kit.

“I cleaned it this morning, but I’ll clean it again in case some stitches broke.”

Jungkook nodded and let you take the bandage off.

“So, you know about…” he began to say.

“I know about the drugs, the gang, the money, Sungho, a certain Mr. Kang,” you said.

“Fuck,” Jungkook growled just as you finished your sentence and finished taking the bandage off. You didn’t know if the curse was directed at one or another.

“He also told me about what’s going on and the danger you’re in,” you said. “I won’t let it affect me.”

Jungkook laughed humorlessly. “You know nothing about all that shit, Y/N, you can’t just let it not affect you. It doesn’t depend on you anymore,” he said. “Did you come to the alley to get me?”

“Of course.”

“Was there anyone else watching us?”

You shrugged. “Don’t know, wasn’t exactly looking around searching for someone spying on us when you were lying on the ground and bleeding yourself to death.”

“This is so fucked up, if Kang knows about you or any of the other people around us…”

“I have nothing to do with your world or what you do, Jungkook, he won’t come after me.”

“He would go after anyone if that means he hurts Taehyung or me.”

You sighed, throwing the dirty gauzes in a plastic bag.

“Does that mean that it would hurt you if that Kang guy did something to me?”

Jungkook pursed his lips, knowing he was playing near dangerous territory. He opted for staying quiet.

You stared at him, waiting for an answer.

Shaking your head, you continued cleaning the wound.

“It looks good, don’t worry. It’s not infected and the stitches are doing good, you will be able to go home tomorrow and, in ten days ask someone to take the stitches out –“

“Of course it would hurt me,” he interrupted you.

You acted as if you hadn’t heard him, continuing with the bandage and covering the wound.

“It would kill me if anything happened to you because of me,” he continued, almost as if he was desperate to say those words. “I care about you.”

Your heart jumped inside your chest, but you didn’t let yourself waver.

“Yeah, you sure do,” you scoffed. “You’ve shown me how much you care about me again and again since we met.”

“And you? You’ve shown me in the best of ways too.”

“The fact that you’re telling me that after all the shit I’ve gone through because of you it’s almost insulting.”

“Yeah? It’s insulting? And what is it to see you with Jiwon everywhere I go? Playing the lovely dovey couple?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t go through that path, you know it’s unfair of you to throw that in my face when you’ve been hooking up with random girls in front of my fucking nose.”

“It’s not unfair when I’ve asked you repeatedly not to hang out with him.”

“You have never asked anything! The only thing you do is demand! Do this, don’t do that!” you snapped, tired of his bullshit. “I’m nothing to you and you’re nothing to me, so you have no right over what I can or cannot do!”

“Ah, yeah? Am I nothing to you?” he answered, venom laced in his voice. You knew in that exact same moment what he was about to say. “Doesn’t look like it if you’ve gone through all this shit for me.”

“Fuck you Jungkook, fuck you,” you spat, standing up from your bed and grabbing the plastic bag with the used supplies.

You stormed out of your room, finding solace in your equally as dark living room. Throwing away the plastic bag, you drank a glass of water and rested your elbows on the cold surface of the kitchen counter, hiding your face in your hands. Why was it all like a cycle? Again and again, you always went back to the start. It was destroying you, and you weren’t helping. Getting involved with Jiwon had been childish and stupid of you and getting into that world in the first place had been even more stupid.

You almost flinched when you felt the warmth of a body behind you, chest pressing against your back.

Jungkook hesitantly raised his hands and placed them on your arms.

“Don’t touch me,” you mumbled, flinching away from his touch.

He didn’t back away, only leaning closer to you.

“I don’t get you,” he whispered, and you were about to scoff when he spoke again. “All I do is hurt you, and all you do is come back to me.”

“It might be because I’m stupid”

“I don’t deserve this, Y/N, I don’t deserve you.”

“You’re right, you don’t, but here you are and here I am. In love with a person whom I wonder if someday will see me.”

You hear Jungkook take a deep breath and you push him away as you turn around to face him.

“Don’t act as if you didn’t already know, you knew it even before I almost told you,” you scoffed. “Taehyung also told me.”

Jungkook’s eyes travelling down to the floor is the only answer you needed.

“When did you realize it?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Does it matter?”

“Was it when we fucked at your apartment before Christmas Holidays, or was it when I was always there for you when you needed me, like a lost puppy?”

“When we fucked at my apartment,” he sincerely admitted.

“Ah,” you nodded. “It was then… I should have known,” you nodded with your head once again. “Did you care about my feelings when you were making out with all those girls in front of me? Or, well, did you ever care at all?”

Jungkook shook his head. “Were you with Jiwon just to throw it back at me?”

“Is Jiwon all you care about?” you scoffed, pushing yourself away from the kitchen counter.

Jungkook grabbed your upper arm, stopping you before you could walk around the kitchen aisle and escape from him.

“You should stay away from me and everything that surrounds me. The boys, the fights… Everything.”

You looked back at him.

“I care too much,” he said, his voice so low you could barely hear it in the silence of your apartment.

“Funny way of showing it.”

“Never been good at it, but if there’s one thing I’m good at, is pushing people away,” he sighed.

His eyes never left yours as those words left his lips. The intensity of his gaze on yours told you he wanted you to read in between those lines.

“You’ll only get hurt if you keep being around me,” he breathed, pulling you closer to him.

You let him push you and move you and do you like a puppet, like you always did, his calloused fingers, filled with scars, playing with the strings of your heart.

“If you care about someone you don’t push them away,” you mumbled in the silence of your apartment.

“You do when their safety is at stake.”

“I won’t try to convince you of something you don’t want to be convinced of,” you said, shaking your head.

He shook his head too.

“You don’t have to convince me about anything.”

His face was so close to yours you could feel every breath, every sound. You could smell him and feel him and sense him. So close yet so far.

“I wish I could love you, but I can’t,” he said those words slowly and quietly, knowing that they would feel like daggers to you.

He leaned a bit closer, and being in the state of shock you were, you let him. He leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and feeling you too.

“Stay away from me,” he said. “It’s what’s best.”

You scrunched your face up in disgust, placing your hands on his chest and pushing him away from you.

“I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” you whispered. “I have to be at the hospital first thing tomorrow morning, I don’t want to see you here when I wake up.”

That being said, you took some steps back, the hand that Jungkook had placed on your left cheek – and that you hadn’t even felt until then – falling limply to his side.

You didn’t even cry that night as you laid on your couch, feeling as if you had already been expecting what had happened. He couldn’t love you because he couldn’t love at all, he had shown you a couple of times, but you had been naïve enough to let your feelings and stupid daydreams blind you.

His words echoed through your mind.

He couldn’t love you. Simple as that.

And when you woke up the next morning, he was already gone.

. . .

But life carried on, it always did.

You felt as if you had been given a second chance, the chance to take the right path once again. A path you had walked away from when you had decided to take part in the underground fighting world.

You left your apartment in March, when all of your savings were long gone from your bank account and you couldn’t afford it anymore. It was difficult moving to a dorm after living on your own for almost four years, but it had to be done so you could at least graduate. Plus, working part-time at a book store wasn’t that bad either, you had loads of time to work on your thesis.

The worst part of it all wasn’t moving to a dorm or finding a part-time job, no. The worst part was distancing yourself from the people that had been your friends during the past six months. They had made you feel so comfortable with yourself, had made you feel so alive taking you out of your comfort zone, that they had almost felt like family. How couldn’t they be called family when they had made you feel as if you fitted in so perfectly?

Of course you still kept in touch with Evey, but always via text.

You couldn’t stare at her and lie to her, you couldn’t act as if nothing had happened, and you couldn’t stare at her laughing and kissing Taehyung knowing everything he was hiding. Yes, he was hiding everything from her to protect her, but still, he was lying to her.

But you weren’t just distancing yourself from the boys because you had realized it was not your world, that you didn’t – and couldn’t – belong to a place like that, follow such a lifestyle. You were distancing yourself because you couldn’t stand de idea of seeing Jungkook after those nine words he said to you.

I wish I could love you, but I can’t.

They bounced inside your mind, echoing and leaving you numb and tired. You couldn’t think of anything that weren’t those nine words, again and again. Why couldn’t he love you? Was if because of you? Was it because of the circumstances? Was it because he just couldn’t love?

Whatever the case it was, he couldn’t love you.

It was the saddest part of it all, because you knew that you would never stop loving him. You sometimes wondered how had you been able to fall in love with someone like him, so cocky and problematic and rude. An asshole from head to toe. A boy who lived for violence and breathed danger. A boy who didn’t give a fuck about anything, not even his life, risking it again and again.

But then, memories of you and him lying on your bed at three am assaulted you. They were the most dangerous memories of them all. Memories of his skin glowing in the moonlight, memories of his scent and his raspy voice. Memories of his round eyes that held a thousand galaxies when the streetlights reflected on them. Memories of his fingertips against your skin as he tickled you. Memories of his laugh and his smile – the same smile that made him look almost innocent. Memories of your stomach hurting at how hard he made you laugh. Memories of you closing your eyes as he hummed one of his favorite songs while he thought you couldn’t hear him. Memories of the random conversations you held in the middle of the night. Memories of feeling free, and beautiful and infinite while being with him. Memories of him and his, and him again, and his… And when it started to feel so overwhelming that you couldn’t breathe, it’s when you were lastly reminded of the love you felt for him.

With the end of winter season and the blooming of flowers, things started to feel… Alright.

You still thought about Jungkook, but it didn’t hurt anymore, nor did you repeat his words in your mind constantly during the day.

Time passed, in every meaning the of the word pass.

Time passed and you started thinking that maybe, one day, you would forget about everything that had happened. That you would forget about him.

. . .

“How long till you graduate?” your tutor nurse said, smiling at you on your way down to the basement of the hospital.

“A month and a half,” you smiled back, a bit shy.

“Oh my God! You’re so close!”

“I know.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Only a bit, I’m more nervous about the thesis, to be honest.”

“And how are you doing?” she asked.

Once the doors of the elevator opened, you both stepped out of it and started walking towards the changing room.

“Fine, it’s almost finished,” you sighed, relieved. You would have never thought you would say something like that. Your thesis, almost finished… That sounded like music to your ears. “It only needs a few final touches and… C’est fini.”

“I’m sure you’ll ace it,” the nurse nodded. “You’re a great nurse, Y/N, you have future in this.”

You bit your lower lip.

“I hope so, I don’t want to forget why I studied this in the first place, why I love it so much.”

You both stopped in front of the door of the students’ changing room.

“There will be days when you’ll feel like forgetting all about it, but then, you’ll see your patients smiling at you, trusting you with their lives, and you’ll remember it.”

You nodded.

“I remember it every day, and that’s what keeps me going,” she said. “Would it not be for that; I’d be owning a flower shop right now. Flowers never make you cry.”

“That sounds like a good plan B.”

“It is,” she laughed. She patted your back a few times. “Have a good weekend, see you on Monday.”

“You too, see you on Monday!”

With the first days of May, the slightly warmer weather arrived too.

It was a bit late and you had missed your bus, so, instead of waiting twenty minutes for the next one, you decided to take a walk. The night breeze was calm, and the sky was completely clear. Your oversized bomber jacket and your headphones were everything you needed.

Plus, the dorms were closer to the hospital than your apartment had been.

It had saddened you, to say goodbye to your independence, to your small living room, and your open kitchen. To your bedroom, and your comfy bed, with its fluffy sheets and floral cushions, the lights that seeped through the windows each night and the sunrays every morning. It had saddened you to say goodbye to everything that had happened inside that apartment, and all the memories you had made in there. But life had to carry on, and that apartment was now part of your past.

You hummed softly along with the music playing through your headphones.

You didn’t want to think about the past now, you were a new Y/N, a new and better Y/N.

The music blocked you form the outside world as you kept walking through the now familiar streets of your new neighborhood.

“Mhmm…” you hummed.

Your eyes travelled across the empty streets, only you and the streetlamps in them. As your eyes focused on the shadow that the streetlights casted of your figure, you noticed a second shadow.

Immediately, you unlocked your phone and turned off the volume. Nothing.

You looked again at the sidewalk. The shadow was there, just a few meters away from yours.

Breath catching in your throat, you sped up, your footsteps becoming quicker and shorter. Your heart started beating wildly inside your chest and your whole body prepared itself to start running.

Taking off your headphones, you looked backwards. There it, was, the shadow that had been following you in the shape of a tall, big man. His dark eyes met yours.

You gasped and immediately started running.

Running ha never been your strong point, but you weren’t far from your dorm building and the adrenaline pumping through your veins made you run faster and resist more.

You began hearing the heavy footsteps behind you once you turned around the next corner. You could already see your building…

Trying to be smart, you thought about misleading the man and taking a sharp turn. If you ran towards your dorm, you would be safe tonight but he would know where you lived and he would be waiting for you the next time you walked out of the building.

Without thinking twice, you took a turn to your left in the first street you found. It was a bit dark, only a few old streetlamps lighting the place. You kept running, trying to reach the other side where it would lead to a bigger street. But your luck wasn’t with you that night, and instead of a street you had found a alleyway. And it didn’t have a way out of it.

Your body crashed against the fence, heavy breaths leaving your lips in erratic puffs as your knuckles hit the fence with rage. Fuck.

Pure fear settled in your body as you turned around, finding the man walking towards you with a mischievous smile on his face. He was walking slowly, knowing – just like you knew – that you didn’t have a way out of that.

Your eyes scanned the place, your self-defense classes mode on. You tried to find a place where you could escape the man and run away from that alley. Maybe, if you let him approach you some more and then took a sharp turn to your right and ran towards the opening of the alley…

You stood still, letting the man approach you.

Just when he walked closer to you, a streetlamp lighted his features. Your breath got caught in your throat as you recognized him. He was Jiwon’s brother.

He laughed, the sound echoing around the place. He could see the recognition in your eyes, he could smell your fear.

“Nice to see you again, doll,” he said in a low voice that sent shivers running down your spine.

“I wish I could say the same,” you said in between erratic breaths.

You had to be strong, or at least, act as if you were.

“Why are you so scared?” he purred. “I just wanna talk to you.”

“Don’t you remember what happened to you the last time you tried talking to me?”

His eyes shone with danger.

“Of course I do… I think I remember telling you I didn’t like bad girls, huh? They all need to be taught a lesson. Well, I still think the same.”

“If you wanna teach me some bad self-defense lesson, save it, I already know everything I need.”

The man smirked, his hand reaching for something in the back pocket of his jeans. When it came back, you saw something metallic in his hand. A low click sounded before a knife appeared. The dim light in the alleyway reflected on its blade.

“Ah, yeah? Well, I think your stupid self-defense lessons didn’t teach you anything about knives, huh? Do you really know everything you need?”

“I’ll call the police.”

You grabbed your phone with more strength in your hands, protecting it.

“I’m afraid that, if you do, you won’t be able to tell them anything when they arrive.”

You gulped.

“You’re such a great coward if you need a knife against an unarmed person.”

“I call it being prudent, I won’t take risks tonight,” he said, voice low as he approached you some more.

That was it, it was your last chance of running away.

Blinking a few times, you didn’t even give him enough time to process what you were about to do. You avoided him, taking a turn to your right and running towards the entrance of the alleyway. Your footsteps were quick, but your legs weren’t as long as his and soon, you felt a grip on your bomber jacket.

He pulled you backwards until your back crashed against his chest.

“Where do you think you’re going? We still haven’t talked,” he growled in your ear, grabbing strands of your hair and forcing you towards the end of the alleyway once again.

You started to scream, but his hand clasped itself over your mouth.

“Shh,” he purred. “We don’t want anyone interrupting us, do we?”

You opened your mouth, but not to scream. You parted your lips and sunk your teeth on the palm of his hand. You bit with strength until you felt the skin tearing underneath your teeth and the man let out a strangled cry.

He let go of you for some seconds, enough for you to try to escape again and spit the blood in your mouth, but his other hand was still holding your hair and he yanked you backwards.

“No, no, no,” he said. “You can’t do that to a person who’s trying to talk to you… That’s rude.”

You stood still and felt his knee hitting the bottom of your back. Numb with pain, you fell on your knees. Your hands fled back to hold the sore area, and you closed your eyes, fighting to not cry.

“Are you going to stay still now?” he growled, crouching on the floor before you. “I could have hit you harder, I could break a couple of vertebras… Maybe you wouldn’t be able to escape then.”

“What do you want from me?” you said through gritted teeth, head hanging low.

He grabbed your hair once again and forced you to look up at him.

“I’m the one doing the questions here, alright?” he spat. You stood quiet; mouth shut. “Alright?!” he repeated, yanking your hair upwards.

“A-alright,” you stuttered.

“Good girl,” he smiled, and his smile almost made you puke. “I’m pretty sure a little nurse like you can tell what things I can do to you to make you suffer without having to kill you, right?”

Your lower lip trembled, but you fought against yourself and your fear to remain unbothered.

“Answer me,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Each time I ask you something I want you to answer to me.”

“Alright and right are rhetorical questions,” you said. “And I don’t know if you know what a rhetorical question is, but it doesn’t need to be answered.”

A harsh blow was delivered to your cheek, making your neck snap to the side in a harsh movement. You turned your head back to look at him, not wanting to miss any of his movements.

“You think you’re brave for answering me like that? You’re more stupid than I thought,” he said, his smirk reappearing on his lips. “I’d love to have Jeon here so he could see what I’m about to do to you.”

Your eyes widened as you saw him lean closer to you. You tried to stand up, but he grabbed your hair with strength and kept you pinned to the ground. You closed your eyes, but you could feel his breath against your neck.

“What a shame the boss needs you alive…” he sighed and distanced himself from you.

In a harsh movement, he let go of your hair, your back hitting the ground with a loud ‘humpf’.

“You can open your eyes, I’m only going to make you a few questions,” he sighed. “But of course, if you don’t behave, you won’t return home untouched.”

You blinked rapidly, blinking away the tears that had begun to pool in your eyes.

“Where’s Jeon?” he asked abruptly.

“W-what?” you stuttered, still a bit in shock.

“You heard me, where’s Jeon.”

“I don’t know.”

Jiwon’s brother crouched once again so he was eye-level with you.

“Lying to me is not part of behaving like a good girl. C’mon, I will give you a second chance. Where’s Jeon Jungkook?”

“I don’t know, I swear.”

The man narrowed his eyes at you.

“How can you not know if you’re his girl?”

At the mention of you as Jungkook’s girl, your heart skipped a beat. How could you be so weak for him after all?

“I’m not his girl, and I’ve never been. I don’t know where he is, nor do I care.”

“Do you need a third chance? Alright, where’s Jeon?”

“I’ve already told you! I don’t know! I haven’t seen him in months, I haven’t heard from him or any of his friends either!”

“And what about that friend of yours that’s with Kim?”

You gritted your teeth at the mention of Evey.

“I’ve kept in contact with her, but we never talk about Jungkook.”

The man stared into your eyes as if searching for something. You held his gaze. You were telling the truth, there was no way you would break the stare contest first.

“But you once were with him, you must know where he goes when he wants to hide.”

“I never knew him that well,” you breathed. It hurt, but that wasn’t a lie either.

He grabbed his knife with more strength for you to see it.

“You better not be lying to me.”

“I’m not. I don’t know where he is, but if I’m being honest, if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you either.”

The man arched a brow in understanding.

“Ah…” he mocked you. “You’re in love with Jeon… That explains everything. Poor girl,” he pouted.

You clenched your teeth.

“I don’t need to punish you or teach you any lesson, falling in love with Jeon Jungkook it’s enough suffering on itself,” he laughed. You closed your eyes, somehow his words hurt more than his blows had. “My brother told me about it, though. He thought you were stupid too.”

“Jiwon knows you’re here?”

“Jiwon was the one who told me where you would be and where I would be able to find you,” he smirked. “Are you naïve enough to think that my brother approached you just because he found you pretty and funny? Well… You caught feelings for Jeon, so yeah, you’re naïve enough.”

“I knew your brother was using me just to return the favor to Jungkook, I just took advantage of that too.”

“He knows too.”

“Why do you want to know where Jungkook is?”

The man clicked his tongue. “I told you,” he said. “I’m the one doing the questions here.”

“You and your brother work for that Mr. Kang man, don’t you? That’s why you wanna find Jungkook? Because you weren’t able to finish your work with him.”

Jiwon’s brother narrowed his eyes.

He grabbed your face with one of his huge hands, forcing you to stare straight at him.

“Listen to me, doll,” he spat. “You’re doing fine by staying out of this, but it’s too late to forget about you. Find Jeon and tell him that he better fight the wrestling final in two weeks. If he doesn’t, we’ll start interrogating people… And this time, it will be people he loves and not a girl he used to fuck and that now is stupidly in love with him, understood?”

His words felt like pure ice sinking into the bottom of your heart.

“Understood?” he said, grabbing your jaw.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

“Good,” he said, letting go of you. Your jaw hurt from his tight grip. “Now carry on with your life and don’t do anything stupid, we’re keeping a close eye on you. Finish your thesis, graduate, move from this shitty city and find a boy who deserves you and loves you back.”

And with that, he turned around and disappeared from the alley, leaving you alone.

Everything you had been feeling since you found out you were being followed, downed on you. You grabbed your knees and hid your face in between them, letting your tears fall freely and the sobs interrupt your breaths.

His words had hurt more than his blows and threats, and that was what scared you the most.

752 notes · View notes

toxic-gorgon · 5 years ago

Text

Visiting Hours: Atticus Rhodes (Fubuki Tenjouin) x Reader x Zane Truesdale (Ryou Marufuji)

First up is a never before seen fic on tumblr, it’s on my Ao3 though. Still, reader-chan may get more than what she bargained with.

“No, you can forget that! Let the poor guy rest!” you growl, rolling your eyes at the brunette. “Besides, I’m sure that isn’t even good for his heart’s current condition.” you explained, placing your palms on your hips, and stomping your black-leather boot onto the ground. Atticus shakes his head and waves you off, much like he did any time you reason with him.

“So naïve, Y/N. Zane can’t heal on bed rest alone. Men have other areas that need healing too.” he says, matter-of-factly. You groan, crossing your arms over your chest. Your friend was really pressing his luck this time, so much so, he won’t leave the subject alone no matter how much you plea. “Look Y/N, it’s the least we can do for him, after all that happened last year.” Of course he would use that against you.

On your third year, it started normal enough. Seeing old friends, mountain sized stacks of homework, and of course dueling. You were sure things would finally calm down from previous years, but boy you were wrong, so very wrong. Most of that year was a blur (thank god), but of what you do remember, sometimes makes you wake up in cold sweat. It seems everyone was dealing with it in their own way.

Zane received the worst of it, his heart too weak and barely beating. After his many duels with his underworld deck, it weakened his heart, but his final duel, the one with a twisted Jesse that was the final nail in the coffin. How you wish it was just a figure of speech. You wince, remembering, and not much longer before that, most of your friends were “sent to the stars”. Thankfully they took it one day at a time and came to terms, with an exception being Jaden, who no one really sees much anymore. Poor guy.

With a sigh, your gaze meets Atticus’ chocolate ones. “Suppose I go along with…this, there’s always a nurse on hand, so we’ll be caught.” you explain, poking a rather obvious hole in your friend’s plan. He flashes a flawlessly sly smile, his orbs beaming even brighter.

“That doesn’t seem to stop you. You remember, two days ago, when you came over to my dorm for the night. Girls are forbidden from the boy’s dorm, after all.” he grins, placing a hand on your shoulder. Leaning in, he whispers in your ear. “Though, I’m surprised the RA’s didn’t bust us, you were pretty loud.” You fought back a blush. Surprisingly (even to you), no one’s caught you those nights.

You doubt it was your stealth skills, since literally everyone, if they’re lucky enough to have trees outside their windows, uses them, or even get to the floor/hall they’re rooms are on. You’ve been seeing each other, but only as friends with benefits all year. With all the never ending crazy adventures, you and Atticus confided in each other that you weren’t looking for a relationship, but agreed in this arrangement, of course remaining as friends. It was for the best to keep each other’s sanity.

You looked around; making sure no one was around to listen to your conversation. Luckily, the far end of the courtyard was vacant, except for you two. “Will you keep it down? And fine, you have a point, but how do you know this sort of thing is ok with him? Have you asked?” Atticus shrugs, but again dismisses your questions.

“It’s meant to be a surprise, but no, I haven’t asked him.” he states. “But, what man wouldn’t appreciate such a gesture? You’re such a great friend Y/N!” he smiles, giving you thumbs up. He won, he pulled the power move he was saving to seal the deal. Every time he says that exact line, all you can do is shake your head and zip your lips.

“Fine, but if we get expelled for this, I’m dragging you down with me. Trust me, you will suffer.” you threaten him, which he wastes no time and grabs your hand, literally dragging you from your spot.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll worry about that when we get there.”

________________________________________________________________

You knock on the white door and stood back. Not a second later, it slides open, the current nurse on duty peering her head out. “Oh, you have some visitors!” she exclaimed, her overly perky voice making your ears ring. You pushed back your nervousness and smiled at her, while she steps aside to let you in. Atticus urges you to go, by gently pushing you forward.

The room was pretty decent sized, most likely average from most hospital room standards. Everything was white, sterile with everything put in their place, and joyless, everything you would expect from a hospital room. Across the room, nestled against the wall, was the only bed in the room. In that bed laid Zane, who seemed to be wrestling his own thoughts. You nearly stumbled over with Atticus’ constant prodding you forward, far too eager in your opinion. The nurse takes long strides over towards Zane and gently nudges him.

“Zane, are you awake? You have visitors” she says softly. The male stirs and finally his eyes flutter open, adjusting to the lights. He looks up at the nurse with a reassuring smile, but then notices you and Atticus. You swore he smiled a little wider.

“Hey Zane, how are you feeling?” you ask, standing next to his bed, with Atticus standing behind you. Zane slowly sits up, adjusting his pillows to better support his back, with the help of his generous nurse.

“Fine, just resting. Sirus visited this morning. He’s doing well.” he chuckles, making light. Your heart sank, after all, who wants to be confined to bed all day, unable to do anything else. You cursed yourself for not visiting him often.

“That’s good to hear. I’m glad.” you smile, another friend you don’t visit often. With graduation coming near, everyone’s already drifting apart. How inevitable, yet the sickness within your gut wished it prolonged a little longer, no matter how unrealistic it was.

His nurse over watched everything, her smile ever so brighter, until her beeper-like device, which all nurses were required to carry on them. “Oh no, one of my patients needs his medication. You guys will be fine, right?” she asked, as Atticus reassured her with a nod. You stayed quiet, jolts of anxiety welling up within you.

As soon as the nurse left the room and shut the door, Atticus immediately began tugging your Obelisk Blue girl’s uniform. “Hey Zane, Y/N has a get well gift for you!” he grins, as you reluctantly comply.

“W-Will you let me ease myself in?” you grumble, your fingers releasing one button after another, slowly exposing your chest to your bedridden friend. Light dust of red graced Zane’s cheeks, his expression resembling a deer caught in the headlights. The only one sure of this risqué event, was the one with such a scheme, Atticus.

“If you wait too long, the nurse will come back and see you in such a compromising position.” he sings, tucking his hands into your shirt and grasping your breasts. You gasp, but continue unbuttoning, and tossed it to the floor. Atticus works on your skirt, unzipping it and pulling it to your ankles, revealing your full ensemble of lingerie: lacy, crotchless panties and a matching bra, with your nipples poking out of the keyholes.

Zane sits up stiffly, his quick wit still processing what’s going on. “Y/N? Atticus, what’s going on?” He finally snaps out of his daze. Your face resembles a tomato, as you saunter over. You stood in front of him, biting your bottom lip. Even in such a delicate state, Zane still looked simply gorgeous. Maybe within your gut, you wanted this, but admitting such a thing and taking advantage of him like this, doesn’t sit well.

“Atticus, if Zane doesn’t want this, I can’t-“ you were cut off by a sudden gasp, as your friend/sexual playmate gropes your breasts, causing your knees to buckle under you. Atticus grins towards Zane, pinching and rolling your nipples.

“Nonsense! Zane, we did this for you man. Y/N went through all this effort to help lift your spirits. Why not give her a chance, huh?” Before Zane could protest, you were bent over by your friend behind, his firm hand slaps against your ass, pressing for you to continue. Your throbbing core ached, as Atticus’ digits wandered between your increasingly wet folds.

Your nimble fingers, hesitant at first, slipped under the blanket and when you glanced up to see Zane not bothering to stop you, you pulled his half-hard cock free. Giving his shaft a couple of pumps, you tucked your hair behind your ear, as you dove in to kiss and lick from base to tip. Your eyes look to see your friend’s reaction, but his aqua orbs wouldn’t dare leave you. You took that as ‘keep going’, so you lick your lips and wrap it around the head, bobbing your head down his shaft, your tongue flicking against his veins along your way down.

Sharply inhaling, Zane shuts his eyes for a moment, and places a hand on your head, threading his fingers into your once styled locks. Giving a satisfied hum, you swirl your tongue around his tip bobbing back up, Zane’s hips thrust up, but you push them down. Both of you were lost in the moment; you let out a surprised whine when Atticus inserts three long fingers between your dripping folds, forcing you to take Zane’s robust member right down the base, deepthroating him.

Atticus’ fingers curl and extend teasingly against your walls, as you arch your hips higher for better access. “So, how is she?” he laughs, caressing your reddening ass, only to give it another smack, watching it wobble. Zane forcibly cracks an eye open, while his lips contort into a smile.

“S-she’s…aah..wonderful.” He mutters a string of swears under his breath when you hallow out your cheeks, your throat constricting around his cock. Atticus nods, holding you firmly by the shoulder, and pulling you up, earning a growl from Zane. He was so, so close.

You release his cock with a pop, drool dripping down to your chin, and you gaze down at the needy man with a lustful haze. Atticus, pleased with himself, because there was no more need of convincing either of you for this little ramp. He removes his digits from your core, bringing them to the front of your face. Without him having to spell it out, you lick your juices off, sucking them clean.

Atticus looks over to his friend, who couldn’t take his eyes off you. Zane’s chest heaves rapidly, as his eyes narrow predatory-like. After an intense minute of Zane staring at you, Atticus speaks. “Hey, Y/N. It looks like Zane needs some extra attention, how about it?” he asks, and before reaching out to guide you, you were moving. In the pit of your core, you craved to ruin him. The blush heating his face, the way his breathing became ragged, and his clouded gaze wasn’t enough, not yet.

Your hips straddle his, as you grind your soaked cunt along his length. You bend forward, planting a rough but passionate kiss against his lips, slithering your tongue into his cavern. Zane takes your lead and intensifies it, reaching to your hips and giving them a firm squeeze, as he quickly dominates the kiss, rubbing his tongue against yours. Smiling into the kiss, you unbutton his night-shirt, slipping the fabric just barely over his shoulders, your hands finding purchases over his toned chest.

When you broke apart, he didn’t hesitate to lean down and take one of your pert buds and sucked on it, while he pinched and rolled the other. Arching you back, you whimper and grind your swollen lips desperately against his cock. “Z-Zane, please…” you moan. He releases your nipple, with a string of saliva connecting to his lips, as he sits up and kisses you again, while pressing the blunt head of his cock between your folds. Digging your nails into his shoulders, your hips angle down and he fills you oh so completely. A moan vibrates from Zane’s throat, as his lengthy member pulses within you. His nails grip into your hips, as your hips roll against his seemingly on it’s own.

The bed dips, as more weight was added. Zane glances up and past your shoulders, a knowing smirk towards the newcomer. Your mind blank with passion didn’t register, until you felt Atticus’ stiff cock slap against your ass. Whipping your head to look behind you, the brunette gave you a soft smile, his chocolate orbs clouded by the same playful lust you’ve grown to expect from him. He teasingly trails the tip down your crack, leaving thin trails of pre-cum, pushing you forward, your breasts and Zane’s chest press together, and Atticus rests his chest against your back.

Without warning, Atticus dips his digits between your wet folds, massaging the small space that was barely left from Zane’s cock. “My, you’re still so soaked Y/N, it’s begging for more.” he whispers huskily into your ear, his warm breath tickling your ear. You let out a strained whine, as he removes his fingers. The blunt head of his cock slips between instead, and he slowly pushes himself in, stretching your walls painfully delicious.

The slight burning of being so full wasn’t enough to deter you from accepting both cocks. Atticus kisses your shoulders and back, while Zane brings you back down for a fiery kiss. Your tongues danced and his hands grip your ass, while Atticus set the pace, gripping your hips and bouncing you at an agonizingly slow pace. You spread yourself wider, allowing both men a little more room, as you bounce into their laps with them taking turns to piston into you. You were never fully empty, as when one cock was almost slipping out with the tip remaining, the other would plunge in deeper.

Zane’s member was longer with the head hitting the back of your depths, and Atticus’ member, shorter but more girthy. The best of both worlds you never knew you craved. Atticus gives a throaty chuckle, as he kisses your neck. “Such a greedy girl, desperately taking two men at once. I didn’t know you were into that, Y/N.” Blushing, you open your mouth to retort, but instead a loud moan flows out instead of words, earning a laugh from both men.

“She certainly is, but what sort of men would we be to deny her?” Zane pipes up, nipping the shell of your ear. Shutting your eyes tightly, you wrap your arms around the bluenette’s neck, arching your back when their combined efforts forcing you to bounce faster into their laps, their pulsing dicks pounding against your constricting walls. You moan into Zane’s ear, shuddering between the two, and your pussy aching for more. Rolling your hips for more friction, you nearly came undone when your back entrance suddenly became filled with someone’s finger, though you couldn’t tell who’s, as they expertly thrust in time with your bouncing.

“A-Attic…ah! Mmmn, Zane…” you moan, burying your head into Zane’s neck. Their cocks throb, as their end is just under the cusp. Your clit being flicked and rolled by again by who knows, making your back arch. Your pussy walls flutter from the added stimulation, whining and chanting their names like a prayer, losing yourself with their every thrust. They pick up the pace, skin on skin slapping echoing against the walls. Suddenly, you see white, your eyes shutting tightly, and you convulse between the two, gripping the back of Zane’s nightshirt in pure ecstasy.

Their cocks barely had room to move, as your walls tighten in urgency to milk them. Atticus grits his teeth, stringing along swears and muttering your name, before pulling out and releasing ropes onto your backside. Zane climaxes soon after, coating your walls, and letting you rest against his chest. As all three of you rest against each other, coming down from your highs, heels clacking against tile down the hall.

“Shit.” Atticus mutters and hops of, stuffing his cock back in his pants and pulling them up. Zane helps you off his lap and buttons up his shirt, while you gathered your uniform and slip back into it. The boys had no problems straightening out themselves, while you scrambled to put your shirt on the right way. The door opens and in steps the nurse from before, smiling at the three of you.

“Sorry I took so long. At least that gave you guys more time to visit, right?” Her eyes widen when she looks everyone over. The boys of course as nonchalant as ever, your face still heated from almost getting caught. “Is everything ok? You look warm.” She trots over to you for further examination. Smiling nervously, you wave her off.

“I-I’m fine, really! It’s a little warm in here is all.” you laugh, hoping your half-ass lie will work. The nurse nods and goes over to open the window and you sigh in relief. After the window was opened, the nurse turns around and looks at the time on her watch.

“Oh, it’s that late already? It’s time for Mr. Truesdale needs his rest.” Zane smiles and nods to you and Atticus.

“Thank you both for stopping by.” Atticus smiles back and waves.

“Hey, no problem buddy. Glad to see you’re doing better.” he says with a wink. You nervously smooth your skirt, a lump in your throat.

“A-Anytime Zane. We should come by more often.” you squeak, your face beat red. Atticus smirks and you can swear behind Zane’s smile, was a light dust of pink on his cheeks. Atticus grips your wrist and turns around to walk out the room.

“Common Y/N, we’ll visit again tomorrow, ok?” You purse your lips, but nod.

“Y-Yeah, I’m sure we can.” you gasps, being dragged out of the room. Waving goodbye to Zane and the nurse, you follow Atticus down the wall, the evidence of your misadventures dripping down your inner thigh. He chuckles, looking behind towards your ass. You frown and glare back at him.

“What are you looking at? That was incredibly embarrassing.” you mutter and Atticus points.

“Your skirt’s inside-out.” Your mouth opens slightly, but instead of dignifying the boy with a response, you hurry along, huffing. Tomorrow I’ll wear something simple then. You smile, leaving Atticus behind, calling your name, and running to catch up to you.

#yugioh #yugioh gx #fanfiction #reader #zane truesdale #ryo marufuji #atticus rhodes #fubuki tenjoin #extra spicy #ao3 #anime #manga #one shot

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