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everythingne-orig · 3 years ago

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hello, nurse!

chapter three: hard decks and rock bottoms

( bradley “rooster” bradshaw x oc, eden benjamin )

(previous chapter) (next chapter)

Eden might just start to find her footing along the aviators, but one mistake after another leaves her reeling and waiting for answers.

word count: 6760

notable characters: penny benjamin, pete “maverick” mitchell, bradley “rooster” bradshaw, natasha “phoenix” trace, jake “hangman” seresin, robert "bob" floyd

tws: cursing, drinking/drunkenness, excessive flirting, near-death experiences, talk of past injury

ao3 link! (features authors notes :D!)

When Eden gets home, she plops her books on the counter and rushes upstairs to grab her notebook. She’s determined to get this shit done, after promising Warlock he’d see her tomorrow at the base. She sprawls the books out, eyes scrutinizing every document. Each book or file was between forty and a hundred pages, and she knew it would take her some time to read through them all, so she tried to figure out exactly which one felt the most important. She settles on the medical book since it’s what she’s there for. As she reads about g-force, and engines, and does some Googling for words she doesn't exactly know, she slowly fills up a notebook with page after page of information. Figuring she’ll organize it later.

She manages to work for a solid few hours, considering it's only about one o’clock by the time she gets home. Amelia won’t be back from classes until three, and who knows where her mom ran off to. After a while, the silence of the house gets too much, and Eden has to turn on music to make herself feel a bit better. Then, suddenly and with a slam of the door as it shuts, Penny comes home. Eden pauses her music and turns her chair, causing it to squeak as she tries to see her mother come out and towards the kitchen where Eden sits.

“I hate him,” Penny growls from the foyer, her heels being thrown off before she’s making her way into the kitchen. She physically jumps seeing Eden.

“Hi, mom.” She laughs softly and Penny lets out a surprised breath as she places her hand on her chest,

“I thought you’d be at the bar.”

“Nope. Just finishing up this chapter of this Flight Surgeon’s guide before I get ready.” Eden leans on her elbows, “Maverick said he’d see me there, so I want to at least be able to tell him that I studied a good amount.”

Penny pales at the mention of her daughter's instructor, “Eden, honey, why don’t you stay home instead of going to the bar? You only have, what, three weeks to the mission?”

“Tomorrow they’re doing more flight training, the same as today I think, but with the pilots trying to catch each other instead of Maverick catching them?” Eden hums, pulling out a little calendar that Maverick had given her so she’d be on track, “I’ll just study then.”

“Are you sure? I’m not gonna be at the bar tonight, I have to do scheduling and such in the office.” Penny seems to really not want Eden to go, which is odd because Penny has always let Eden go places and make her own mistakes. She tries not to think about what that might exactly mean.

“I’ll be fine, Mom.” Eden laughs, gently shutting her notebook as she begins to pack her items up from where they lay across the kitchen countertops, “It’s not a huge deal, the only one I really need to look at is the medical guide and I already know the majority of this from my USMLE testing days.”

Penny lingers, but sighs, and says a soft okay. As Eden thanks her, she stands, gives her mom a one-armed hug, and slips up the stairs and to her room. She took a world record time shower, but then spent an hour brooding over what to wear. She knew pretty much everyone would be out of uniform tonight, since they weren’t coming straight from the base, and she wanted to wear something a bit less formal than her pink suit and the other various suit-like outfits she would wear to the base in the upcoming days.

Eden ended up picking an item she adored, a white-based sundress with a garden scene-based corset top. She paired it with all gold jewelry and tied her hair up in two half-up pigtails with golden-colored hair ties, and some simple tan sandals. Her make-up was quick and easy, considering it was just The Hard Deck, and when she was finished spraying herself with enough perfume to last the night, she remembered the one item besides her wallet she was supposed to bring. And It might be a stupid decision for Eden to do, but she slides on Rooster’s jacket over her dress. It’s big on her, definitely, and when she stands in the mirror she can't help but adore the way it lays on her smaller frame. She gives herself a little twirl, runs her fingers along the patches she doesn’t recognize, and double-checks to make sure she has everything in her crossbody bag before she’s heading out the door.

The drive to the Hard Deck is only, maybe, fifteen minutes and when she’s walking in, there’s already a hustle and bustle of people there. She ducks through the crowd and makes her way back to the pool table, where she can see Maverick expertly conning Hangman out of a winning game. Eden chuckles to herself, adjusting the jacket that she now just rests over her shoulders, as she walks up to the crew.

“Hello, Aviators!” She calls with a goofy grin across her lips, “This is your captain speaking, buckle your seatbelts, and get ready for a pool table ass-whooping.”

“Oh? Bradshaw, huh?” Maverick leans back from where he’s bent over the table, setting up the billiards, an almost protective look flashing across his eyes as they narrow. Noticing it, Eden flushes, stammering a bit as she shuffles in place as the other pilots make various noises and comments.

“Relax, guys. When I got sick last night, he brought me home and left his jacket in my room by accident.” She shakes her head in disbelief at their assumptions of more… intimate relations.

Coyote snickers, grabbing a cue for himself after passing one to Hangman and Payback, “It’s not like the two of you don’t flirt excessively already. Who are we to assume you haven’t done more?”

“It’s all jokes, plus I’ve only known him for a day, what would I have done?” Eden clarifies, feeling her cheeks redden even more than before, “are you jealous or something, Coyote?”

“I’ve got my own relationship issues to worry about,” He waves a hand, “But thanks for the offer.”

Eden huffs, rolling her eyes as she slips into the crowd of pilots, grabbing a cue as well, “And for that comment, you’re going down.”

The squadron whoops, laughing as Coyote takes the first hit, sending the billiards ricocheting across the table in various directions. Eden waits, watching before she bends (happy she decided at the last minute to wear shorts under her skirt), and immediately whacks a striped billiard into a hole.

“Oh, shit,” Hangman expresses, and Payback whistles as she turns, and manages to get another ball in easily, though as she's bending for the third (which she knows she has to rebound across the wall,) someone leans across her and shifts the cue an inch or so to the left.

“There,” A voice purrs behind her, undoubtedly Bradley’s, “Try now,”

And she does, and it works, making Coyote yell something intelligible. Eden stands after Bradley does, and she grins, “Go ahead and start, Coyote, I feel a bit mean.”

He does, and Hangman walks over, slinging an arm around Eden and making her lips pull taught and she glares up at him, “now, that’s something to brag about.”

“Get your paws off me, Bagman.” She complains, and when he doesn’t move, Bradley steps in, grabbing Hangman's arm and lifting it up and over her head. The two don’t speak, just exchange various glares and hand motions, before Hangman walks away with a slouch, and Phoenix snickers from where she’s next to Bob and Payback.

“Thanks from all of us, Rooster!” She calls as she points across the bar, and the waitress there wastes no time ringing the bell on Hangman, who groans. With a loud laugh, Payback is quickly asking what everyone wants to drink while Fanboy rushes up to grab another one for free.

“I’ll have a shot of Tito’s!” Eden calls and Payback quickly writes it down on his phone, Bradley watches as Coyote hits another ball into the hole and cheers, another pilot– Omaha, slapping him on the shoulder in congratulations.

“I’ll just have a Corona for now.” Bradley says when he’s asked, then he’s enveloping an arm around Eden's shoulders, leaning close to her ear, “Y’know what they say about a woman wearing her man’s jacket?”

“ Her man's jacket ?” Eden replies as she leans back against the pool table, eyes rolling to look at him, “enlighten me, Bradley.”

He grins, letting his lips graze her ear as he talks, eyes fluttering up to Maverick, who watches the two with a calculated gaze, “Well, he has to take her to bed.”

“Oh no–” Eden moans as leans back on him, dramatically fanning herself. The aviators look over and notice her relaxed pose, and how she's making him laugh by doing it before she yells, “take me to bed or lose me forever, Bradshaw!”

Bradley freezes, his hand on Eden’s waist as his lips hover by her jugular, and she can practically feel the heat radiating off his face. He stutters a bit, before opting to keep his mouth closed as the pilots laugh at the scene around them. Hangman is practically on the floor laughing at this point, Phoenix shaking her head at him as he wheezes dramatically, and Maverick claps, standing.

“Alright. Let’s move on from… whatever that just was.” He says, not without Eden noticing an odd strained rise in his voice, and the team agrees, not without some mindless jabs from Coyote, something about Rooster’s callsign not being far off from the truth. Unsurprisingly, Coyote gets a whack aside the head from Payback (who’s returned with most of the liquor), and Eden begins to take off the jacket when Bradley stops her, a hand coming to her now bare shoulder as he leans down again, closer this time, so close she can feel his lips brush her ear before he even whispers to her, breath hot on her skin.

“Keep it. I like seeing my last name on your chest.” He grins before he’s striding away, calling the first shot at another pool table. It takes her a second to refocus, then she's standing back up from her position of leaning on her backside the table, absolutely flushed from head to toe. A second passes, then, Coyote taps her shoulder.

“Your turn, Mrs. Bradshaw,” he says and she whacks his shoulder, cursing at him while he cackles, a Michelob Ultra in hand.

“Not surprised Bradshaw’s found a new girl to flirt with.” Another pilot says before he turns to her, “Sorry, I’m Omaha, Neil Vikander.”

“I always forget there's a bunch of you,” Eden comments, whacking another billiard perfectly, “How’re you feeling after those two hundred pushups?”

“Like shit.” He chuckles, watching as Eden stands up, he’s definitely ogling her, and she tries not to think about it as she has to move closer to him for a hit.

“Leave her alone, Omaha!” A girl hollers as she walks up with two other pilots behind her. After Eden hits the billiard and narrowly misses the hole, she turns to look at her. The name tag on her flight suit reads Halo, and behind her are Yale and Harvard– ironically Harvard is Yale’s WSO if Eden remembers correctly. The only person she doesn’t remember is Omaha.

“Lieutenant Callie Bassett, Halo.” She says, “And this is Brigham Lennox, Harvard, and Logan Lee, Yale.”

“Nick to meet you all, formally.” Eden smiles, “Eden Benjamin.”

“Oh, are you Penny’s?” Harvard asks as Yale waves before practically being tackled by an already drunk Payback who shouts,

“Where’s Fritz? He owes me a beer!”

“Yeah,” Eden laughs at Payback's antics, “I’m her eldest.”

“Weird.” Halo comments, “I could've sworn you were Maverick’s.”

Eden scrunches up her face, narrowing her eyes in confusion and almost disbelief, “Maverick’s?”

“You look a lot like him.” She continues, “Phoenix and I thought you were his when he made that Hello Kitty comment this morning.”

“I mean, there’s surprisingly not a lot of white people here with black hair and green eyes.” Coyote comments from the pool table, “but I dunno, Maverick would have to have been pretty young if he’s the age I think he is.”

“That’s true.” Harvard states, “Whatcha think, Omaha?”

He flirts, “She's pretty, but I don't see the relation to Maverick.”

Eden sighs, sending Phoenix a look for help, causing her to butt in, “This is just a weird conversation.”

Payback slips over to hand Eden her shot, which she takes without hesitation or a wince, and turns back to the others, “I agree with ‘Tasha over there.”

“What’s weird?” Payback asks, taking her shot glass as he hastily writes down more drink orders for his friends, his eyes narrowing as he struggles to spell Michelob right for the fifth time in a row. Behind Eden, Coyote manages to get two billiards in the hole, making it Eden’s turn again. Somewhere behind Coyote, Maverick watches the team interact, noticing who doesn’t talk to who, or who completely isolates themselves. They need to be a team– hell, a family event–

“--I don’t look like Maverick, dude.” Eden’s whining after Harvard says it again, “I don’t even know who my dad is. My mom refuses to talk about it with me.”

Over Eden’s shoulder, Rooster watches as Maverick winches, before slipping away into the crowd. It’s bizarre, and Eden notices him looking perplexed, so she quickly ends the game of pool and tells Hangman it's his turn before she crosses the bar to where Bradley lounges.

“What’s the matter over here?” She purrs, sitting down on the couch next to him. He hums, leaning his head on her shoulder, a half-finished drink swirling in its cup as he shifts to be more comfortable.

“Tired.” He says, and for once it's truthful, before he grins sloppily, “I wonder if it would be easier to sleep with you by my side?”

“Does the only thing your mouth knows how to do is flirt?” She says, rolling her eyes with a goofy smile as the rest of the aviators move around them as if they aren’t even there. It’s like a perfect moment of respite, Bradley’s soft laugh only adding to it in Eden’s opinion.

“Well, it knows how to do much more, if you’re interested.” He states and she ooh’s before delving into a soft laugh as she bumps her head against his before he sits up with a very obvious flush on his cheeks.

“I’m gonna grab a refill, do you want anything?” He watches her face as she bites her lip, smiling softly as she thinks.

“Uhm… a lemon drop, in a tall glass, with extra lemon, please.” She smiles.

He pauses before smiling a bit bigger than before, “Ah, a martini girl?”

“Of course, my Momma raised me to have an expensive taste.”

“Good thing I have a big paycheck then, yeah?” He stands, and Eden gets up immediately after, making her way over to the new jukebox she had insisted her mother get put in. It was a digital one that updated monthly with new songs, so Eden thumbed through them absentmindedly. Until she settled on ‘Boyfriend’ originally by Dove Cameron, but this was a cover because– well, it was easier to get covers on something like this. She grinned, swiping her credit card, and selecting the song to play after someone's selection of an old Kenny Rogers song.

“Found you.” Bradley says, passing her a yellow shaded drink with a soft smile, “Just as you asked, your mom was behind the counter.”

Eden blanks, “That’s weird. She didn’t want me coming tonight because she wasn’t gonna be behind the bar. I guess plans got changed.”

Bradley shrugs, then offers his cup toward Eden, “a toast, to the newest member of our little ragtag squadron.”

“Aw, how sweet.” Eden smiles, clinking her drink to Bradley's, and taking a sip, before hissing about how strong it is, making Bradley’s face light up in a happy laugh as the two hide off in the little back corner of the bar. Though, not all goes unnoticed, because Eden can see her mother lean over the bar to whisper something to Maverick, who (after a beat) glances at Eden. Something crawls in her stomach, a sick subconscious realization she can’t quite place yet, and she turns back to Bradley who’s now taken a spot on the wall next to her.

“Why the hell does my mom treat Maverick like he’s the best thing since sliced bread.” Eden huffs, rolling her eyes as she breaks Maverick’s eye contact. Rooster hums, taking a decent-sized gulp of his drink as he sighs out.

“Well, they are both single.”

“Ew!” Eden laughs, shoving Bradley, who stumbles a bit as he holds his hands up in mock surrender. The two chuckle a bit before the fake Dove Cameron voice comes over the small speakers, which are easy to hear in this mostly vacant corner, and Eden starts to softly sing along. Her real voice this time, and Bradley looks floored, he smiles and hums along to the chorus.

“So this is how you really sing, Benjamin?” He questions and she giggles, rolling her weight across her shoulders and to her side as she leans on the wall, now facing Bradley. She catches Maverick staring at the two of them again, this time with daggers in his eyes, and she bites her lip. Well, she knows one way to make someone look away– make them ashamed for even seeing what they’re watching.

“If I could give you some advice,” She sings along to the song as she places her hand on Bradley’s chest, leaning in close to him and pressing her stomach against his leg that’s propped up so she’s standing between his legs. His whole face flushes a bright red as she leans in, bringing her face close to his as she whispers– not sings, the lyrics, “I would leave with me tonight.”

She winks, stepping back as she drags her hand down his chest, before she taps the embroidered ‘Bradshaw’ on her jacket and spins, making her way further into the dinner crowd that swarms in through the side door from the beach. She knows it takes Bradley a second to follow her because there's a pause before a hand is on her waist. As she stops a foot or so away from where Bob and Phoenix watch Payback and Fanboy attempt a “world record pace” game of eight ball, Rooster tilts into her.

“This is the game we’re gonna play, Benjamin?” He practically growls, as if it's irritating him. She was surprised she was able to get him this hot and bothered on the second day of knowing him, but she should probably tone it down. There was a pretty inflexible no fraternization rule for a reason.

“Sure.” She smiles, leaning her head back to look up at him, “I think I'll win.”

“In your dreams.” He says, and even though Eden’s not really sure what the two of them are competing for, she knows she made Maverick and Penny finally stop staring, so that’s good enough for her.

A few hours later, Eden finds herself outside, helping out a sick Bob who got stuck doing shots with Fritz. It hadn’t ended well for Bob, who wasn’t a drinker in general. Plus, Fritz had willingly chosen Southern Comfort. Which was… terrible , frankly.

“Poor Bob,” Phoenix says, setting a water bottle next to her WSO. Eden slaps his back as another round of… whatever he’d eaten this morning comes out. Once he’s finished, Phoenix nurses him to a water bottle while Eden shuffles around in her bag for painkillers she knows she has. Though she keeps finding Benadryl, which is great, though she’s not having an allergic reaction right now.

“Where’s my fucking Ibuprofen?” Eden clamors, “I don’t want fucking Nyquil!”

Phoenix snorts, patting Bob on the back as he bends over the railing again, “Do you have a whole pharmacy in there?”

“Pretty much– Aha!” Eden holds out the almost empty bottle and makes a mental reminder to buy more soon, “Here you go, Bobert . And I have some Pepto Bismol.”

He smiles, wiping his lips with a towel Eden had found in the kitchen, “You’re literally an angel.”

“Let’s get you feeling better,” Eden opens both bottles, taking out a capsule of Pepto Bismol, and two tablets of Ibuprofen. The three of them laugh when Eden nearly drops it, Bob whining about how he needs the medicine now or he’ll die. Seconds later, Phoenix is nearly spitting out her own water when she watches through the window as Hangman falls and eats the floor while trying to dance on a chair.

“I think Maverick’s gonna hate us tomorrow, we’re all gonna be hung over.” Eden looks back through the window where Halo sings dramatically with her arm draped over Coyote’s shoulder, “And I’m running out of medicine by the end of the week if you all keep being idiots like this.”

“Oh, definitely.” Phoenix giggles, “but I’m glad we can all let loose a bit, even if it takes alcohol for that to happen.”

Eden laughs too, a bring smile on her lips as she hopes– no, prays, that this all works out because never in her life has she so easily slotted into a group like this. Something about these pilots was new, different from her ex. And It made everything feel so… new. For once, Eden was breathing oxygen after being submerged in a frozen lake. Or like she was seeing the world through new glasses lenses.

Maybe it was just the alcohol talking though. She hoped not.

“Alright, if he’s got medicine in him, I’ll take him back to base,” Bradley said as he stepped out of the back door with his car keys in hand. He’s only had two drinks in the five or so hours they’d been at the bar, so he, Phoenix, and Eden had become the designated drivers.

Eden nodded to him, setting her bag by her feet as she started to tug off Bradley’s jacket, “Give him like ten minutes to take the meds, just so his stomach settles. And here, this is yours.”

“You can keep it, honestly, I don’t mind.” He laughs as he stares out the outstretched jacket, “It’s not uniform or anything.”

Eden holds it out to him, shaking it now, “Yeah, but it’s the summer in San Diego– it’s burning hot, and if I show up wearing this again I’m afraid Hangman will buy me a pregnancy test with genuine intentions.”

Phoenix barks out a laugh from where she stands, holding the pills for Bob as she rubs his forehead in pain, but a small smile at Eden’s comment creeps across his lips. Bradley takes it, throwing it over one of his shoulders as he smiles.

“Did you spray it down with roses or something?”

“My perfume,” Eden laughs, “I forgot it was on my bed and sprayed a bunch of perfume on me before leaving. The poor jacket was behind me, it must’ve picked up quite a bit.”

“Just enough.” He murmurs, watching as the night stars dip through the waves only say a hundred or so feet away from where they stand on the deck. High tide comes in slowly as time ticks by. And though he stares out at the beautiful scenery as Phoenix announces seven minutes until Bob can take his medicine, Eden finds herself being unable to look away from him. The curve of his jaw, the scarring on his skin, the way he’d pushed his sunglasses up onto his head, so now they served as a makeshift headband.

Maybe now she hoped the alcohol was talking, but god, he looked good.

The next day, Tuesday, training goes by without a hitch, Eden completes most of her studying and manages to stop at least ten different arguments. Even though the group acted like best friends when liquored up, the second they weren’t under the influence Eden felt like she was stuck in the world's most annoying dick measuring contest. Hangman was antagonizing everyone, and he’d probably gone close to five hundred push-ups today as punishment for his antics. Bradley had flirted with Eden every chance he had, mostly because he’d realized how much it irritated Maverick. Everyone else had behaved, for the most part, and Eden went to sleep with a new group chat blowing up her phone.

Wednesday starts the bomb-drop training. Which wouldn't usually scare Eden, since her ex’s best friend had almost died in G-Loc. So, when Maverick mentioned how possible it was to happen today, she’d been practically sweating bullets. The first few hours of tests are fine, then Maverick goes to fly it with Coyote, and shit goes so wrong so quickly. One second she’s standing next to Fanboy and Phoenix, watching as Coyote hits the mark perfectly, then the next second she’s screaming at him as he falls unconscious and his plane starts to drift down.

“C’mon!” Maverick yells over the comms, “Wake up, wake up, Coyote!”

Eden wasted no time throwing herself out of the chair to scramble over to her medical equipment. She worked with bated breath, fear making her hands shake ever so slightly as she dug out the little guide and re-read what procedures she needed to do for G-Loc events. Everyone relaxes the second Coyote’s able to right his plane with a panicked breath as Maverick softly directs him, voice stern but gentle as he runs Coyote through the entire touchdown process Eden was sure the both of them could do in their sleep by now. Once Eden snaps herself out of her anxiety-filled trance, she throws a bag over her shoulder and grabs another bag at her feet, tearing out onto the tarmac as she radioed in.

“Miramar Central, this is Doctor Benjamin with ID-1301,” Eden says as she watches Coyote's plane make a shaky landing, bouncing way more than his usual, and she just knows he’s out of it.

A woman’s voice comes across her walkie, “Benjamin, this is the central dispatch for Miramar.”

Eden watches as Maverick lands behind Coyote, and the second the two are parked, he’s climbing out hastily as Coyote stays put, “I need the other medic for ID-1301 to Taxi G-0, one of our pilots just came out of G-Loc.”

“I’ll send Doctor Bianco.” The woman on dispatch says, and soon steps are brought to Coyote's jet so Eden can make her way up to him in the cabin as quickly as possible. Aka, she's running up before they’ve locked the steps in place.

“Hey, Javy,” Eden calls as she kneels on the top step, she can hear Maverick coming up behind her. He pauses once she sees Eden beginning a concussion test by having him follow her finger, tell her the answers to simple questions, and by checking his pupils. When everything looks good, she has him stand up and exit the jet. As the two make it down the steps, a male doctor steps off a golf cart and tsks.

“What are you doing?” He shouts at Eden, “You were told to wait until I got here!”

“I wasn’t told anything, and my concern is the pilot who just blacked out for thirty seconds in the air!” Eden snaps back immediately, her eyes narrowing at her so-called co-medic. Without having ever met Doctor Bianco before, Eden already knew the two of them wouldn't get along. He seemed to be more fact-oriented, whereas she was more heart oriented (which was probably bad for the Navy) and she was sure they’d rip each other's heads off at some point.

“I– god, you’re fucking hopeless . Give him here–” Doctor Bianco goes to grab Coyote, who leans onto Eden harder in protest. As his knees nearly give out, Coyote’s whining about his head pounding with all the yelling, the rest of the team watches anxiously as Eden leads him to the medical cart, having him sit down so she can continue the assessment, ignoring the other doctor as he complains.

“Hey,” Maverick comes up beside the two, “Relax, she’s doing just fine. Better than most medics we get out here on the tarmac.”

“She's not a real flight surgeon!” Doctor Bianco cries, “She’s gonna get you all killed!”

“Full offense,” Phoenix cuts Maverick’s comeback off, “I’d trust Eden with my life a million times before I’d trust you.”

And when Doctor Bianco turns around to snap back at Phoenix, he can see the whole team behind Phoenix watching him with quite a few confused and concerned looks. He huffs, not liking the fact he’s being pushed against, clearly evident by the way he crosses his arms and huffs again as he turns to where Eden does another round of tests on Coyote.

“We’ll get him an MRI.” Eden turns back to face him as she speaks, “because of the loss of oxygen and the rush of blood pressure to his brain, plus his reactions are a bit slow and his breathing is slightly off.”

“Fine.” Doctor Bianco says, not even being able to argue with Eden’s point, and he drives away with Coyote now in the passenger's seat as he pages an on-base ambulance to transfer him to a local hospital just ten minutes drive away. Unluckily, because her name tag and such were still being processed, Eden was unable to follow him due to security reasons. It was annoying, but she was glad those security measures were in place. Just in case.

“Well, Warlock and Hammer want us to end for the day.” Maverick sighs, Eden had never noticed he had slipped away for a moment. The pilots all murmur amongst themselves before they start to split off. Watching them go, Eden wraps her arms around herself and shakes her head as she takes a swallowing breath.

“Hy, kid, are you alright?” Maverick asks, grabbing her shoulder and squeezing it.

Eden sighs, “Yeah, sorry, it just freaked me out, being all... in the moment– baby’s first medical emergency.”

Maverick laughs softly, watching Eden with a fond look in his eyes as he brings a hand up to tousle her hair a bit, “You’ll get used to the emergencies, it comes with the job.”

Eden finds herself nodding in agreement, even though she personally doesn’t really think that she’s cut out for it as she shifts from foot to foot, watching as the pilots softly converse amongst themselves, cliqued off, as they pack up to leave.

“Hey, Eden!” Halo calls, “Can you text us when they update you on Coyote?”

Eden smiles, “The second I get a message, y’all will know.”

The pilots yell various thank yous, and Maverick nods in thanks as he splits from the group to leave, and Eden finds herself clicking on her phone to see if there’s a message. When she doesn’t see one, her anxiety spikes with the fear of never getting a message from the hospital. It comes faster than she thinks it will, three hours later as she’s cooking, her phone idly vibrating on the counter while Amelia plays some song on her violin. She answers the call, a nurse named Violet telling her the instructions for Coyote’s next few days, and when she ends the call she finds herself relaxing for the first time since three o’clock that afternoon.

iMessage: ID-1301: The Best of Top Gun

Bagman : ‘Let’s play 8-ball!’

Fanbo y: fuck u bags

Bob : no one wants to play 8-ball, ever.

Phoenix emphasized ‘no one wants to play 8-ball, ever’

Eden Benjamin : Hey crew

Eden Benjamin : Good news, Coyote is a-ok. No concussion or anything, but he’s off of screen time for the rest of the day while he gets some rest. You can visit him if you want, but I’d call and ask beforehand. He won’t be flying the next few days, but will be attending class, be nice, and don’t smack him about while he rests up.

Eden Benjamin : And now I'm putting this chat on do not disturb because I’m about to beat my sister’s ass in Mario Kart. Call me with serious questions ONLY. If someone is not dead or dying I don't wanna know.

Jacket Giver (Bradshaw) : Yes Ma’am, thank you, Ma’am.

Halo, Phoenix, Harvard, and three more emphasized, ‘Yes Ma’am, thank you, Ma’am.’

Eden sits at the hanger the next morning, staring at the ceiling as she takes a slow breath. They were doing the same drill again, this time Coyote joining her on the ground. They’d been going at it all day, paired with a break for lunch at a local deli, and a momentary switch to the drill they’d done Tuesday that Eden decided to dub Cat and Mouse. But for now, Hangman and Halo were running through the bomb drop and massive climb drill Eden still hadn’t named. So, Eden and Coyote sat in the safe shade of the hangar, Coyote writing a letter to his youngest niece (who just turned eight) as Eden worked quietly on her books.

Luckily today she’d decided to brush up on everyone’s medical history, and pretty much everyone had clear histories. Except for Phoenix, Maverick, Rooster, and Coyote. Surprisingly, Coyote’s was the most detailed on a severe injury to his left wrist after a dogfight left him with bullet metal in his wrist. Not bullets, ‘bullet metal’ was how it was written. Meaning the bullet had broken, most likely.

“Hey Coyote,” Eden says as she looks up, “You and Rooster were involved in the same accident?”

“Our first deployment, we got in a dogfight with the enemy. He had to eject, I stayed in to cover his parachute before I ejected myself. We were stranded in a desert for a few hours before we were found by a rescue team, which, ironically, Doctor Bianco was a part of when he first started.” Coyote explains as if the idea of near-death doesn’t scare him in the slightest, “Did you get to his file yet, I think it explains it more?”

“Uh…. not yet.” She says before she’s flipping through and finding Rooster’s file. There, it reads that he’d ejected after his engines had been shot by an enemy pilot. He’s hit his shoulder on the canopy, dislocating it and breaking his clavicle, making him unfit to fly for four months. As she read through the file, it also detailed a ‘severe psychological break’ that resulted in his prolonged absence from flying.

“Yeesh.” Eden murmurs, thumbing through the rest of the file, observing the photographs of his X-Rays on his shoulder.

“Not a fun time.” Coyote sits up, eyes glancing over at the screen with a confused look. He sets his pen down, standing up now, and making his way over. Eden ignores him for the time being, scribbling down to check Rooster’s shoulder before they get flown out to the carrier in two weeks' time.

“She hit a bird,” Someone says, and Eden perks up to see Halo rushing into the room, “Eden, Phoenix, and Bob hit birds.”

“Is she able to extinguish the engines and glide?” Eden closes her notebook as she stands, idly making her way over to where the rest of the group is beginning to hover around the computers. This was the last test of today. Why did something have to go wrong like yesterday?

“She's trying, but it's not working well.” Harvard calls and now Eden’s grabbing the headphones– a new addition as of this morning, to listen in to the comms. As soon as she’s on them the first thing she hears is Maverick yelling, and Phoenix uncharacteristically panicked.

“Phoenix, Bob, eject !”

The whole team freezes, except for Eden, who’s ripping the headphones off of her head and running to grab her medical equipment. She nearly slips and falls on someone's discarded water that had spilled in the rush to the computers, but manages to right herself with a jump as she stands to rush out of the hangar, there’s already a helicopter warming up and she’s not sure who exactly told them to get ready to go and retrieve the pilots.

“We’re gonna follow Maverick’s location on his plane,” one of the flight members says and Eden throws on a spare headset as she buckles in.

“How far away?” She asks.

“Ten minutes if we leave now.” The other pilot says and Eden nods, the helicopter taking off before she can even begin to logically think. She should have Doctor Bianco with her, she should have at least another medic, but she doesn't find it in her to care. She told herself she was going to be the best and this right here is the only way to really know. As they fly dead forward for ten minutes, the other two passengers– two retrievers as she’s heard Hangman call them once or twice, scan the area for flares or parachutes. Luckily, they’re in the desert, so it's easy to find two identical parachutes with a jet making circles a few thousand feet above them. The two other passengers drop down and bring Phoenix and Bob into the helicopter, they look relatively okay, save for Phoenix’s bloody nose, so Eden moves across the seats to begin assessing them.

“You both scared the shit out of me.” She says softly, handing Phoenix wipes for her nose while she gently shifts it around. Luckily, nothing is broken, it will most likely just bruise a bit.

“Sorry,” Bob says softly and Phoenix shakes her head.

“It’s my fault, Bob, I should’ve been watching.”

Eden watches the two as they look at each other, a sad conversation passing with glances– something Eden’s realized only backseaters do with their pilots before Phoenix turns back to Eden so she can hand her an ice pack and a bottle of water. She hands Bob the water as well. She begins to do simple assessments, checking for concussions, reflexes, taking blood pressure, and such. Everything she does, she does with confidence. She does assessments and teaches assessments a thousand or more times, her hands don’t shake, and she works with the efficiency of every great doctor she’d seen in her life.

“We’re gonna go land at the hospital so they can do assessments,” the pilot says, “Plus, it's mandated for every ejection too.”

“No worries,” Eden says as she sits back, going to ask Bob a question when she sees him lull forward as if he’s passing out, “Okay, a little worry, speed up.”

“Bob?” Phoenix looks over and he coughs, bringing a hand to his head and Eden’s unsure if the painkillers he’d asked for this morning for his headache are wearing off, or if it’s serious. Internal bleeding, or a broken bone, maybe punctured lungs? Nothing she can easily assess now.

“Bob, what hurts? Talk to me.” Eden sits up, using her leg to drag her medical equipment a bit closer as she grabs a stethoscope that's basically useless in the air, but she's gonna fucking try anyway.

“I… my rigging for my parachute was pulling on my side, it burns now. My whole chest and stomach just hurt a lot.” He says and unluckily, Eden can't undo the top of his uniform without removing the whole thing, so she has to just hold out on the flight to the hospital.

“Just breathe, okay? Try and stay awake.” She speaks, trying to hide the tremor in her tone, “did either of you hit anything on ejection?”

“No,” both pilots echo.

Eden nods, listening to Bob’s heartbeat the best she can through his flight gear. It's strong enough for her to hear it, and from what she can hear it sounds perfectly fine, “Then we most likely only have to worry about the change in altitude, okay?”

The two pilots in front of her nod before the helicopter is slowly descending over the hospital. Eden scoots back, holding onto a handrail as they land and nurses and doctors begin to swarm the helicopter with wheelchairs and gentle reassurances as they guide the aviators into them. Almost immediately, Eden is grabbed by a nurse and she’s asked to explain the symptoms she’d been able to gather from both pilots, but soon they’re moving them down into the hospital, and Eden has no choice but to stand in the waiting area and wait for someone to tell her what’s going on.

And she finds, for the second time, that she abso-fucking-lutely hates waiting.

#bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #top gun #top gun: maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #natasha phoenix trace #jake hangman seresin #pete maverick mitchell #penny benjamin

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copperbadge · 4 years ago

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I’m in the actual office for work this morning, and coming in to work right now is real weird.

I’ve been in the office since the pandemic began, but one thing I haven’t done in over a year is take public transit -- which I can now do, thank you Moderna. When you ride transit regularly, you develop a kind of “bus sense”; you know what buses or trains you can and can’t take (I live near downtown so there are multiple lines that will take me to work and back, but not every line at my stop will do that, and some express buses have Disastrous Consequences). Before the pandemic I could pretty much tell if the bus turned the wrong way without looking up, and I knew when to look up to start watching for my stop; it was a sense of physical space, like knowing where your personal bubble is. Both of those things are RIGHT out the window. I have no idea what bus I’m taking home. It’ll be an exciting adventure.

Then I got to work and realized I remembered the front door key but forgot the key to our specific offices. Fortunately I managed to talk the super into bringing me up in the freight elevator, which opens into the office (he was pretty convinced by my front door fob, which only about 15 people possess). Because pre-pandemic I could have found the nearest McDonalds and set up there with their wifi for a while, but most of the urban ones around here have either no seating or very little, and no other public space is going to let me just chill there during a pandemic, even in a mask.

It’s still surreal to walk through the office and see the calendars all turned to March of last year. Even people who are in the office on a weekly basis just kind of...haven’t bothered.

And there are three of us here today, all vaccinated, so we’ve agreed we don’t need to mask up while we’re here. I legit can’t remember the last time I was unmasked in an indoor space that wasn’t a private home -- I haven’t been to a doctor or a dentist since the quarantine began and while I did get a haircut, it was outdoors and masks-on.

It feels weird and naked, and like something is easier than it should be, like I’ve forgotten some important duty. I can see why there are unhinged people who seem to enjoy going into public indoor spaces and not wearing them -- it must be squirmingly exciting, if you don’t give a shit about other people, like having semi-public sex.

Anyway, I’ve gotta go do some gift processing and figure out which bus I’m taking home. Wish me godspeed, because Samspeed isn’t gonna cut it today.

#pandemic #masking #quarantine #sam works

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lottiebagley · 4 years ago

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Family Reunions- George Weasley

Three years imagining a life together Love your family more than we loved each other I said I’d keep in touch and I did But the more we keep in touch, the more I miss him

The second she enters her small flat she can feel her entire world shatter around her. Leaning her back against the door as she sinks to the ground, head dropping into her hands as she wipes furiously at her eyes, trying to push the tears back in.

Once a week she had attended dinner at the burrow, it was nice, good to see Molly and Arthur and whichever kids were around, of course George was never there, the date marked in his calendar in a red pen reminder to not go home that day. To sleep and eat at the flat.

The family had been heartbroken to hear that he had broken up with his girlfriend, after the war he had committed all his time to helping Fred. His twin needed every last bit of his attention, helping with his physical therapy and his dwindling mental state and so George's relationship had taken a back seat. She hadn't minded, in fact she had understood, she even committed herself to helping too.

But a year after George decided to call things off, Fred was better, he was walking and he was happier and he was working again. It was the perfect time for him to focus on his relationship, after all the girl had proven herself time and time again. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Maybe it was that he felt like he needed a minute alone.

Maybe it was the feeling that she was so much better than him. Maybe it was his mother's constant talks of rings and weddings. He wasn't quite sure but all of a sudden he felt like he was suffocating.

He sat her down in his bedroom in the flat. Explained that she wasn't the one and it didn't feel right anymore. He had watched as she cried and had attempted to comfort her only for her to push him away, fleeing his flat leaving a baffled Fred on the living room sofa, television on in front of him, wondering why the girl who may as well be a sister just left the flat in floods of tears.

George still visions his mother's face when he closes his eyes, the look on her face when he told her he ended his relationship. He remembers her disappointment. He remembers his brothers shock. He remembers his dad's sad sigh. He remembers his sister's passionate rant about how he never deserved her anyway.

As the girl cries on her hallway floor she vows that she will stop. Stop seeing the Weasley's. Not because she doesn't love them with every fibre of her being but because she couldn't handle the heart break. Couldn't keep sitting at their dinner table without his hand on her knee. Couldn't keep sitting on the swing set without him laughing and pushing her. Couldn't keep helping Molly clean plates without him sat on the counter teasing her.

Tell your sister if she hears from her ex I can’t be the one that she calls And as much as I love talks with your dad I need him to leave me alone Cause I can’t find the words to express The way that I wish I was the one But friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

Her resolve to stop seeing the Weasley's was gone by the next morning.

She woke up to a missed call from Charlie and called back, chattering away about his upcoming trip home as she got ready.

She arrived at her job at the ministry and met up with Hermione for coffee, deciding that when she eventually cut her ties she would keep Hermione. The girl was like a younger sister, although so was Ginny, but she figured one last tie to the family, someone to hear their news from would do no harm.

Arthur knocked on her office door in his lunch break, bringing with him sandwiches made by Molly and asking her to eat with him and she didn't have the heart to say no, so instead they ate in her office and talked merrily about the infestation of singing sunglasses he was dealing with today.

As she left her office she received a phone call from Ginny, who ranted about how annoying Harry was being and how now she had graduated and was training she felt like she had no time to focus on her relationship.

It was after she assured the girl that her and Harry were meant to be as she walked through the Leaky Cauldron she knew what she had to do.

She got a flat above a bookshop on Diagon Alley simply to be near George and now everyday, walking past his store, felt like torture. She hadn't been in the store, she'd avoided it like the plague even when Fred asked her to come and hang out with him and George wasn't working. So as she walked into the atmospheric shop her heart felt like it was sinking in her chest.

"Hey sweetheart, you all okay?" Fred asks with a bright grin, he's leaning on his cane for support and eyeing the door.

She could cry looking at him. Not just because he looks identical to the man who fell out of love with her and she still pined desperately for. No. Today the tears she blinks back are practically grief, she knew that, realistically, she would see Fred around, but she wouldn't be able to call him a friend anymore.

"I uh- could I speak to George?" she questions, Fred smiles gently, noticing her pained tone.

"Yeah, of course, you can go on up," he assures. She nods shooting him a small smile, but pauses on the stairs.

"Hey Freddie,"

"Yeah,"

"I want you to know that I am really proud of you, of the shop and of how much better you are and I mean when I first met you who'd have thought you'd end up here. I just-well I love you and I am really proud," She blinks back tears as she speaks, almost wishing she would get a chance to say a goodbye to all the Weasley's.

Fred smiles gently, somewhere in him he can tell, tell that this is goodbye and he's about to loose a friend.

"I love you too sweetheart, just remember no matter what that I am always going to be here for you,"

They share eye contact for a moment, both knowing and not saying it. Fred understood, he can only imagine how hard it must be to still be a part of his family's lives after George. He knew the girl in front of him loved his twin brother more than anything, he knew that deep down George loved her just as much, and yet here Fred stands, a silent goodbye hanging in the air.

Phone calls Sweet notes All the little things I used to love Now they just remind me that I was never enough We said we’d keep in touch and I tried But the more we keep in touch, the less I move on in life

"Hey George," she speaks quietly, standing in the hallway of his flat as he stands staring at her shock.

It's been a month since he saw her and his heart leaps at the sight of her, at her standing there with a small smile and teary eyes and a pencil skirt and blazer and messy hair and she's just her. She is her and it's everything he's been missing. He wonders as he stares at her how he ever thought that she wasn't the one. That she wasn't perfect. That she wasn't made for him.

Her own eyes are wide, seeing him sparking something in her that she didn't even know existed. He's shirtless, a white towel wrapped around his hips and his hair damp from the shower he just clearly had. Her eyes scan his toned chest, his broad shoulders, the light sprinkles of freckles. His scent, his cinnamon body wash, is so strong that it practically invades her body and she could scream and cry and all she wants is to kiss him.

"Oh-shit-hi. Is everything alright?" He's worried to see her, had someone died? Was she okay? Merlin, he wanted her to be happy more than anything in the world.

"Hey," she speaks quietly, backing a way a little when he tries to move closer, not wanting to be close enough that she could reach out and touch him.

"You said that already," he teases gently, testing the waters.

"I'm sorry- I-" she cuts herself off, not sure how to say anything that she wants to

"Hey, it's okay. You're okay," he comforts her gently "Why don't you go sit down, I'll get dressed and come, just give me a minute," he offers, she nods her head slowly.

When he enters the living room it feels natural. Seeing her sat on his sofa waiting for him feels right. He thinks for a second about how it could all be different. How he could be in pyjamas and she could be in one of his shirts, how he would jump on her and laugh when she tells him he is squashing her, how he'd have held her as they watch a film and make-out and he'd cook for her and they'd drink wine and enjoy a blissful Friday evening, wrapped up in each other.

"You're all dressed up. Going anywhere nice?" she questions, eyes scanning his white dress shirt and jeans.

"The Italian, the one in Camden town,"

"With the little dog and the red wine?" she questions, George lets out a laugh at the memory of the time he took her there, it was a month after the war, thinking back it was probably the last time he took her out. He got so busy with Fred and the shop and she'd not been a priority when he knew she should have been, she never seemed to mind though.

"That's the one,"

"So, it's a date," she smiles gently, heart splintering in her chest

"Uh, yeah. Yeah it is," he confirms, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly

"That's great, do I know her?"

"Angelina," He admits quietly. She nods, forcing a smile.

"That's great George, I'm really happy for you. I'm sorry to disturb you-"

"No!" he cuts her off a little too eagerly, a little too happy to see her. "No, you are fine being here. I want to help with whatever is happening," he assures her

"Right, well I won't keep you long," she nods awkwardly

"Hush, none of that nonsense, take all the time you need," he reassures her, sitting down next to her on the sofa but keeping a respectful distance apart.

"So-well- I know that this is-" she cuts herself off with a sigh "Sorry, this is just...awkward,"

"Hey, it's just me. You can say anything," He moves his hand to place it gently on her knee, his heart stops at the way she gently pulls her leg away.

"I need you to tell your family to stop talking to me,"

"What?" he snaps, suddenly quite offended. "My family have been nothing but kind to you and-"

"Christ! it's not like that!" she gasps, he sighs

"Then what?"

"I can't be a part of their lives anymore. I know it sounds so selfish and I wish it was different but- George- I love your family. I really do. I just- being around them hurts. It kills me. It makes me want to just drop dead because every time I talk to them I think of you. Being in your house I can feel you and- I- it hurts. It hurts too much," She admits it in a tired whisper, George feels his heart break at the thought of her heartbroken because of him.

"Okay. I'll talk to them," he speaks quietly, she nods and stands.

"Goodbye George,"

"I'll see you around?" he asks quietly, the thought of this being it makes his heart hurt. When his family were stealing seeing him all the time it wasn't as bad, he always knew what was happening in her life. This, this was final.

"Yeah. Yeah maybe,"

Tell your sister if she hears from her ex I can’t be the one that she calls And as much as I’ll miss talks with your dad I need him to leave me alone Cause I can’t find the words to express The way you don’t think I am the one And friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

For the next six months George hears nothing. Without his family seeing her he has no idea how she is, if she's okay, if she's happier now. He lays up at night thinking about her and wishing he could turn back time.

She hears scraps, staying in touch with Hermione, she knows about Ron in depth, hears bits and pieces about the rest of the family. Too awkward to ask if George is okay, if he's happier without her, if he's with Angelina now.

Bill receives a card when his little girl is born but she doesn't pick up the phone when he calls her. Fred gets a text message when he finishes his physical therapy but when he replies it's left on delivered. Ginny swears up and down that she saw her in the stands of her first professional quidditch game but can't prove it.

So, with dread filling her body and curses at her nephew flying in her mind she enters Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. She's hoping to go unseen by the twins, they had staff now and maybe they would never have to find out her annoyingly loveable nephew wanted a reusable swamp for his 12th birthday and absolutely nothing else would do.

"Hello, welcome to Weasley's Wizard- oh, hi," George's voice sounds anxious when he snaps his head up to see her standing like a deer in the headlights in the almost empty shop.

"Hey,"

"Is everything alright?" George wonders if the way his mind automatically jumps to something awful having happened because of the war or because he can't think of any other reason after everything he put her through that she would want to be anywhere near him.

"It's Max's birthday next week," she announces

"Yeah. 12, right?" George questions with a lopsided grin. He adored her nephew, the kid as giggly and energetic and just like him and Fred were as kids. He also loved the way she was around kids.

"Yeah," she confirms, surprised he remembers. "He, uh, started school,"

"Made Gryffindor I'm sure," George smiles, it's the first genuine smile he's let out in weeks

"Yeah. The first thing he said when he saw me at Christmas was that I just had to tell uncle George, didn't shut up about you once. I didn't have the heart to tell him we broke up so..." she trails off.

"He's a good kid,"

"He is. Professor McGonogall isn't quite so set on him,"

"Nah, she always loves the trouble makers," George smirks

"That's true," She smiles gently "Anyway, so he wants a portable swamp and nothing else instead for his birthday, so," she trails off once more, gesturing to herself.

"Well of course," George grins, pushing himself off the front desk that he had been resting on and striding across the shop floor to grab one. He grabs a basket, walking around the floor and plucking any product he thinks the kid might like, even a few unreleased things from the back room before returning to where she is standing at the front till with a small smile on her face.

"George-" she starts, he shushes her immediately.

"I'll gift wrap them for you," he announces, placing the full basket on the till

"You don't have to that," she protests but he laughs

"Actually, I kinda do. You are the worst at wrapping gifts," he teases making her smile.

"You got me there," she admits

"Yeah. So, how've you been," He begins scanning products through the till and wrapping them with ease

"Uh good. I got a promotion-"

"Wow! that's fantastic, and so well deserved,"

"How would you know?" She blushes as she speaks, not looking at the boy

"I do read the paper y'know? What is it now 100 war criminals you have single handedly found," he bolsters, she'd always wanted to be an auror but becoming so high up that she reported directly to the minister and had a big fancy office was only in her wildest dreams until now.

"What about you? How's things?" she questions

"They're good. Shop's going great and Fred's only getting better by the day. Little Victorie is so perfect and yeah life is, well, it's good," He can't bring himself to say that as much as everything is perfect he can't find it in him to be happy without her by his side.

"And Angelina?"

"We decided we were way better as friends. You dating?"

"I'm married to the job," she shrugs, not wanting to say she doubted she would ever fall in love again without him.

"I get that," he nods, placing the pile of wrapped up parcels into bags. He physically laughs when she grabs her purse and begins to gather money

"Sweetheart, you're not paying for any of this. I only rang it through the till because we have to stock management,"

"George, that is so kind but I can-"

"Yes you can, if it makes you feel better stick my name on a couple of the tags alright?"

"I will, I promise that I will," she nods, taking the bags from his hand "Thank you,"

"No bother. Give Max my best, yeah?" He smiles, she nods and he watches as she leaves the store, his heart that he hadn't even realised was practically beaming dulls back down when she goes.

Tell your mom to stop sending me recipes she finds on the internet And when your brother wins homecoming king

I won’t be there to witness it And when you find the words to express the way you don’t think I am the one And friends don’t bring friends to family reunions If we’re just friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

"You busy?" Hermione leans in the doorway of her office

"I can make a couple minutes, what's up? We had coffee three days ago," she reminds as the brunette steps into the office, closing the door behind her and settling in the seat across the desk.

"I know and I wanted to ask then but I couldn't bring myself to it because I feel so bad asking," Hermione explains, twisting the diamond ring on her finger anxiously.

"'Mione, you can ask me anything. You know that if it's physically possible I'll do it," she assures, putting the papers she had been reading down to give her friend undivided attention.

"You're one of my best friends," Hermione states

"And you're one of mine," The girl nods, eyebrows furrowed in concern

"And when somebody does something big in their life they want their best friends there,"

"Hermione what ever you need I'm there. 100%"

"Big things like getting married. I'm getting married, you know that, I mean to say Ron and I have picked a date and it's four months away and we are getting married at the burrow in a marquee by the lake. I know it's a lot to ask of you. I mean it's not just some ex, it's George, and I know how hard it's been for you without him and I hate myself for asking. And it's not just seeing him it's being there, I mean you fell in love with him there and it's not just him it's all of them and I understand if you say no, but, I want you there," Hermione rambles

"Of course," She speaks without thinking, never would she not attend her friends wedding "Hermione, I would love nothing more than to be there,"

"Really?" Hermione beams

"Merlin, 'Mione did you think for a second I wouldn't come, it's your wedding,"

Love them like they are my own But I don’t think I’ll ever move on If you don’t , If you don't

It had been the most obvious thing in the world to say yes when Hermione asked, but now, standing in a stupid, but undeniably beautiful, pale blue bridesmaid dress she felt nervous. Hermione had insisted she had no obligation to see the Weasley's until the wedding day, she knew how her friends heart ached for not just George but the whole family, and wanted to make the whole thing as painless as possible.

But now, standing in the empty kitchen the morning of the wedding, the girl wondered how to breathe. She arrived by floo powder, already changed and ready like Hermione had instructed as she was getting ready with her muggle family.

She wasn't sure what she expected but it wasn't the empty, quiet room she was standing in.

She lets out a sigh, blinking back tears, the scent feeling like coming home.

"Sweetie, how are you?" She hadn't even realised Molly had entered the room from the back door until the familiar woman is pulling her into a hug.

"I'm okay, how are you?" she questions as Molly pulls away. If it were anyone else Molly would have rushed away, much too busy with preparations, but it wasn't. Molly loved the kids her children brought home in her life like her own, she missed the girl but understood that she needed space. One look at the tears in her eyes tells Molly that right now she needs to be here.

"I'm good. We are all good," Molly assures, gently guiding the girl to sit. "Now, tell me honestly, how are you?

"I'm just sorry," She admits, voice cracking and tears spilling onto her cheeks. "You must all hate me,"

"Sweetie, no one here hates you, not even for a second. We adore you," she assures, rubbing the girl's shoulder comfortingly

"All of you were always so welcoming and kind and then I just stop speaking to you all. I was so rude and I'm so sorry. Merlin, I didn't even tell you myself I made George do it,"

"None of that. You don't have to be sorry. We are the sorry ones. My son broke your heart and we were all wrapped up in loving you and wanting to be part of your life that we didn't stop to think how hard it would be for you. To be here and to talk to us. You needed to heal, no one is mad at you. We just miss you, and when or if you ever want to come back you will be welcomed with open arms," Molly assures her, grabbing a tissue to dab the girls cheeks dry.

"I missed you so much Molly," she sighs

"I missed you too dear, and I know George misses you,"

"I miss him. Every day I miss him,"

The moment is cut short when Charlie strides in through the front door "Thought I smelt trouble," He beams, wrapping his arms around the girl "Come help me with the daises, Hermione wants like a thousand and Perce is useless," He informs, an arm wrapped around her shoulder. She looks almost anxious and he rubs her shoulder gently "He's upstairs with Ron," he whispers gently

"You're welcome to go and speak to him if you'd rather," Molly informs, she wanted her son to be back with the girl more than anything.

"It's okay I'm happy to help,"

"Thank Merlin, I'd strangle Percy if you aren't there to stop me,"

Tell your sister if she hears from her ex I can’t be the one that she calls And as much as I’ll miss talks with your dad I need him to leave me alone Cause I can’t find words to express The way that I wish I was the one But friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

"I saw mum put you to work earlier," George's voice calls through the dark night air. She's sat in the tree house in the garden, the wedding a small distance away.

"I never mind," she shrugs as she watched him climb the ladder, he sits down next to her, legs dangling over the edge next to hers.

"Thought I'd find you here," He comments, he had built the tree house one summer when they couldn't get a minute alone. It was the first summer she spent there, between 4th and 5th year, she fell in love with him in that tree house.

"Just needed a minute," she sighs

"Yeah. It's beautiful but it's kind of a lot,"

"Weddings when you're depressingly single are often a lot," she shrugs, he chuckles at that.

"I have no clue how you are single," He comments, eyes trained on the starry sky above them

"Well, you dumped me so," she teases, a light laugh in her voice. He rolls his eyes, bumping his body to hers, for the first time since the breakup she doesn't move away from his touch. Not wanting to waste the opportunity but also not wanting to push her he settles for pressing his leg next to hers, her foot wraps around his leg holding him close to her without her even noticing, it's second nature, instinctive.

"I'm serious. You're so incredibly kind, and funny, and smart and good in bed," he adds the last one as a joke, laughing when she playfully swats his arm "and I mean, look at you right now, you're like a fucking goddess. You always are. How had no one swept you up?" He questions, and he means every word of it.

"Honestly?" she questions

"Always,"

"They've tried. I mean boys ask me out or try and get with me, but- I- well I never say yes, it's not fair to go on a date with someone when you're in love with someone else," She admits, she is staring straight ahead, not looking at him, so she misses the grin that brightens his face.

"That's why Angelina and I decided on friends," he admits, she hums in response not sure what to say. A comfortable silence falls over them, the sound of music from the party the only thing filling the air.

"You wanna dance?"he asks suddenly

"Sure," she agrees, he jumps down from the tree house, it's a little stupid but not unsafe and they've done it a thousand times before. She follows suit and his hands grab her waist to steady her when she stumbles a little in her heels.

He keeps his hands there, pulling her closer to him as hers wrap around his neck.

"Always thought you looked so good in blue," he admits as his thumb strokes her waist, the silky material soft under his grip. "Like a princess," he adds

"Always thought you looked so good in a suit," she grins, blushing a little as he twirls her around

"I miss you," he hums out, pulling her back closer this time, her head resting on his chest.

"I miss you," she returns.

"Y'know I never stopped loving you. Not even for a second. I regret it. More than anything," he's practically whispering and his heart stops when she stills in his arms.

"I can't do this," She whispers, tugging herself from his arms

"Darling-"

"No. George, I love you, more than anything. So I can't. It's your little brother's wedding and you are lonely and you are all mixed up and we haven't seen each other in so long and weddings, merlin weddings, they confuse everything and I can't. I can't do this one last night thing. I'm sorry,"

Before George can reply, can tell her that she's so far from right she's turned around and is speeding back towards the party.

Tell your mom to stop sending me recipes she finds on the internet And when your brother wins homecoming king I won’t be there to witness it And when you find the words to express That you don’t think I am the one And friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

She pulls her apartment door open a week after the wedding, surprised to see George Weasley a determined look in his eyes and soaking wet from the rain.

"George,"

"Hi. I need to talk to you," he doesn't seem nervous, he seems like there's a fire in his belly, a determination, a purpose, a need.

"Oh, sure. Come in," She moves aside, letting him in. "The living area is at the end of the hall. I'll go grab a towel," she directs.

He looks around the living area, it's open plan to the kitchen and it's cosy. Full of pictures and little trinkets, it is fundamentally her and his he feels more at home there despite having never been before than he does in his own flat.

She re-enters, throwing a fluffy baby pink towel at George before heading into the kitchen, grabbing an extra mug having been in the process of making tea when he arrived, and fixing them both a tea how they like it.

"So, you wanted to talk?" she prompts, sitting crosslegged on the couch, her fuzzy pjs and messy hair so domestic and beautiful he would marry her on the spot to get to see her like that every day.

"You said that you didn't want to do one last night, well, I don't either. It wasn't wedding goggles making me look at you different. I am in love with you. So, in love with you that being without you makes it hard to breathe and I want you back, not just for a night but for the rest of my life," He thinks he should be nervous but he's not. It's her. He could never be nervous with her.

"George, that makes no sense why would you-"

"Listen, I have never felt good enough for you. The whole time I've known you it was like you were so above me and I could never be on your level, no matter what happened you were always perfect. You were, and are, too good for me,"

"George, I have never been-" she starts but he cuts her off

"I had to help Fred. He is my twin brother, my best friend. He nearly died and I was terrified. He was nearly crushed to death and I realised I could loose him, I could loose anyone I loved. That included you, obviously, and that's how it started. I was scared to be with you because if I lost you I couldn't cope. I couldn't survive. So I started pushing you away. But you. Merlin, you're so good that it didn't matter. I pushed you away and I was wrong to do that but you didn't waver for a second. It was my responsibility to help Fred. To go to physical therapy with him. To hold him when he cried. To be there no matter. I would have done it no matter what. But you. You didn't have to do that. But you did. You didn't complain. You didn't walk away. You helped fix Fred even when I was being crappy to you," He rants

"George, I loved you and I still do. I would have done anything you asked me to, I still would. But I didn't help Fred because of you. I didn't do it for you. Not cause I was too good. I helped Fred because he's been my friend since I was 11. I helped Fred for Fred. Not for you," She explains, George sighs.

"I know. I just was in this state right? I was scared to loose you and you've always been too good for me and I just didn't know what to do. Then, Fred was getting better, and I felt empty. I wanted Fred happy and healthy of course but I'd become so used to spending all my time trying to fix things, trying to keep everyone afloat. It felt like everything stopped. Like no one needed me. I became obsessed with things I could. I couldn't fix you, I couldn't fix us, because nothing needed fixing. You were so perfect for me that I didn't need to fix it. That scared me. The more I thought about it the more I realised if I lost you, no one could fix me, I couldn't loose you but I wasn't good enough for you. It had to be me. My terms. My breakup. It was stupid, but that was I hadn't lost you I'd given you up and that was better," he explains, tears flooding her cheeks as she suddenly understands everything that's been happening for the past months.

"Georgie, you never needed to be scared. I'm not going anywhere, I promise,"

"I know. I'm sorry that I hurt you,"

"George, I love you,"

"I love you darling, more than anything," he smiles

"So another go?" she questions timidly

"If you'll have me," he nods, she grins. Hands shoving his shoulder's back to lay against the sofa, knees on either side of his waist. Her lips touch his for the first time in months and it's like they can breathe again.

They lay side by side in her bed that night, bare skin pressed to each other, holding each other as tightly as humanly possible.

"Can we stay here all day tomorrow? I just wanna lay with you," she speaks tiredly, her head on his chest

"Ron and Hermione get home from the honeymoon tomorrow," George informs, she moves her head to look at him "We have a dinner thing, looking at the wedding pictures too,"he continues

"That'll be nice. You aren't leaving my bed till the very last minute though," she decides

"You should come," he prompts, giving her a squeeze

"You really think your family won't mind?"

"Please, they love you. They'll just be glad to see we are back together,"

"We could be going as friends," She teases, he rolls his eyes

"Not to a family reunion we couldn't. Besides, I have every intention to hold your hand and kiss you the whole night so they'll probably catch on. Aside from Percy, bless him, he's socially inept,"

If we’re just friends don’t bring friends to family reunions If we’re just friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

Masterlist

#george wealsey x reader #george weasley #george #george x reader #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter #weasley twins #weasley

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you-are-so-much-better-than-that · 3 years ago

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Season 1 Episode 1

Let’s do this! Season 1 Episode 1

I absolutely love the beginning of Shameless. This episode starts on literal fire and we get a phenomenal monologue by William H Macy. Frank sets up the entire show for us. It’s a really memorable first scene of a television show. Frank is a horrid person, but William H Macy is an absolute beast of a thespian!

A thing to note as we move forward: the prop department at the beginning of the show is strong, but, Shameless exists in a world where time, continuity, and sense do not exist. Government offices will be open on holidays. Whole years will disappear. Calendars will eventually make no sense. But for now, we’re going to believe the first calendar we see because it is specifically pointed at by Fiona.

We can see that the calendar says ‘—ember 2010’, which means it is either November or December. It’s clear that the 6th is a Saturday, which means it’s November.

Fiona points specifically to the 15th. ELECTRIC DUE all caps, underlined.

She’s clearly stressed about it. She grabs the bill, and we see that there’s a stamped red PAST DUE on it, so it’s a decent assumption that it needs to be paid that day. We’re going with it.

IT’S NOVEMBER 15TH

Other dates to note on the calendar:

Rent due 5th

Cell bill due 19th

DWP due 30th--I tried figure this out and after googling, the only DWP that is a bill that I found is the Department of Water and Power, but it is called that specifically in LA. I assume the prop department is LA based, and didn’t know otherwise.

We get the first hectic Gallagher breakfast scene, and it is glorious! Ian needs his field trip permission slip signed by Frank, so Debbie does it (I love a good parallel/throwback. Fast forward to season 11 when Liam needs something signed by Frank and Lip, Ian, and Mickey all claim they can do it. This is one thing the show does do right.). Debbie also calls out Carl, who is almost 9, and tells him he has to start carrying his weight in the household. It’s a funny little moment, but let’s never forget this show is about poverty in America. Fiona fills up the milk with water, they have to scrape to pay bills. Again, never forget this show is about poverty and not about two gay boys. America is truly a third world country masquerading as a first world country.

Anyway, after school, Lip gets a blowie from Karen. Physics apparently really does it for her.

We get a closeup of Lip’s…um…sticky…boxers. Not sure why. And then he hides them? Instead of just washing them? Again, not sure why. But that leads Lip to finding Ian’s stash of naked man pictures and his world is turned upside down.

Then we meet Jimmy-Steve watching Fiona like a creep, then diving like an idiot to save her purse. Dumb hero complex.

We get our first BROTHERS scene and it’s perfect!

A little smoking, a little name calling, a little inappropriate sharing. And then Lip does the big reveal that he knows Ian’s gay. And Ian makes the cutest little face as he informs Lip that he has in fact had a knob-job once or twice.

We go downstairs where Steve is introduced to the rest of the Gallaghers and Kevin. Fiona and Steve bang (and ALMOST finish), but not before Steve is unfathomably pretentious. (I know he’s a fan favourite, and I know he does make Fiona happy for a while, but I’ve got FEELINGS about lying Jimmy-Steve. And few of them are good.) And then they’re interrupted by Tony and a very drunk Frank. That is to say: Frank in his natural state.

Anyway, the show goes into the next day, so it’s NOVEMBER 16th.

Frank calls it disability day—according to disabilitysecrets.com If your birthday is on the 11th-20th of the month, you will receive your SSDI cheques on the second Wednesday of the month, so is this two days later? Did the show start on the 16th and is now the 17th? Does Fiona say shit because the electric is actually a day late?

Lip claims he got some teeth pulled that day, which is why he was home from school. According to the Calendar (our most unreliable narrator) Ian had a dentist appointment at 3:00 on Wednesday. Could they have traded appointments and not updated the calendar?

Anyway, Lip takes Ian to get a blowie from Karen. Totally normal brother stuff.

Then the Gallaghers get a washing machine delivered, defying the Laws of Fed-Ex and the Universe by having it delivered literal hours after Steve noticed it was broken. He also manages to stick a bouquet of roses in there?

We also get a moment that I don’t think is spoken about enough at ALL: Ian sees Kev’s dick. How is this not discussed?? We talk a lot about Mickey’s crush on Kev, but Ian is never like, “Yeah man, I’ve seen his cock”? I wish I know how to make gifs because that entire scene is amazing.

We meet Kash (🖕) and Linda (🖕). Linda is nagging Kash in front of Ian, so we’re supposed to believe she’s the worst ever and what? Feel for Kash. EW. There is a whole rant about Kash’s mom not taking her meds. She’s on Thorazine and is struggling with her mental health. After a very quick Google, I’ve learned Thorazine is often used by bipolar patients. Could this have been a topic that Ian connected with Kash on? (Ugh ew. Ian just wants connection and gets preyed on.)

It is impressive, though, that Ian manages to get a blowie, see Kev’s cock, and go to his after school job all in one evening. Industrious indeed!

Fiona finds Ian being all sad that Frank hates him. She steals some money for Ian’s field trip from Frank and has the first of many outbursts in the series (showing Emmy Rossum’s incredible acting abilities). I mean, Fiona is such a tragic character from the get go. The world on her shoulders. Her “proves I’m wanted” is so painful, but then it’s followed by her outburst at an unhearing Frank. She takes a second to feel her feelings, and then steels herself again. She calls Frank ‘dad’. It’s such a strong scene for Emmy.

The following scene is Fiona walking to work the next day, making it now: NOVEMBER 17th.

She calls Steve and he convinces Fiona to let him take her out on a date that night. They kiss. They laugh. Steve calls her out on some stuff. OH and we learn Steven’s a car thief.

Lip is at Karen’s again, and Sheila offers her 15 year old daughter and her friend hard liquor and beer. Normal.

Then Lip goes to the Kasha and Grab and finds out about Kash and Ian. He is clearly unhappy about it. He yells at Ian, tells him Kash is married with kids. He calls him a kept boy because Kash is buying him things (clear grooming behaviour). They fight, and Ian yells about the “dozens of CDs he’s made him. Honestly this scene makes me sad and angry because Ian is clearly being victimized and these kids just have no idea. Sex is transactional for Kash, and Ian wants Kash to like the same things he likes, to like him, so badly. He makes him cds and gifts him Sox tickets and just wants connection.

Ok, I’m going to bring something up about editing continuity that annoys me. I don’t normally nitpick when watching, but since I’m building a literal timeline, I’m just gonna bring it up. If this type of thing annoys people, do let me know and I’ll stop.

The scene with Fiona and Steve starts with Fiona calling him during the day, then it jumps to Steve running to meet her at night. The following scene is Lip at Karen’s during the day, then it’s Lip at the Kash and Grab at night. This all happens in the same day, but it would have been nice if they edited it so it’s Fiona and Steve on the phone, then Lip with Karen, then Fiona and Steve on a date, then Lip at the Kash and Grab. ANYWAY. I’ll stop this nonsense and suspend my disbelief as Coleridge suggests.

Moving on. Fiona and Steve get home to find a drunk but hilarious Frank on the new washing machine, leading to a really great scene with a Frank getting existential, the three of them doing drugs together, and a living room dance party with Frank, Fiona, Steve, Kev and Vee.

The back and forth between William H Macy and Emmy Rossum in this scene alone should have won them an emmy. This show and these actors were snubbed over and over again.

Also, the only narrator more unreliable in this show than the Calendar is Frank. “Four month old baby, 14 year old girl just had her appendix out, 11 year old Lip, 10 year old Ian, a 7 year old, a 5 year old”—those are 6 kids. None of the ages make any sense! Liam is what? 18 months at the beginning of the show? That would make Fiona 15 here, which is obviously not the case! Or it would make Liam the smallest 4 year old in the world. Also, aren’t Debbie and Carl only a year apart? Just this whole thing makes no sense, but, Frank isn’t exactly trustworthy.

Also, my favourite thing Frank asks: “What is the one thing that we need…Continuity!” Woulda been nice Shameless!!

Here here, Frank!

It’s the next day again, so it’s November 18th.

Ian and Lip are BROTHERS. We love them. Lip is having a hard time accepting Ian being gay. But then he provides a wonderful show of love and acceptance when he asks, “Name a single time I’ve ever let you down”. Lip still hates Kash (good for him), but is ok with Roger Spikey. He has a really weird speech about anatomy, and Ian says another dumb thing. The writing on this show can be so strange. If there are any British Shameless watchers: Is this dialogue the same?

Anyway, Steve basically moves into the Gallagher house two days after meeting Fiona. Normal. I guess that’s just THE WAY WE GET BY!

Ok, so in conclusion, season 1 episode 1 begins on November 15, 2010 and ends on November 18th.

#shameless timeline #s1 #1x01

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butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway · 2 years ago

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My new whiteboard calendar (you can get these bitches shockingly cheap, I only paid like $15 which is like half of what I expected to pay even if it's still a lot for me right now) arrived and I'm trying to decide where in my room to hang it for optimal use.

I saw this really cool idea of using color coded dots to mark self care tasks on a white board calendar in order to track how often they're actually happening, which would be super helpful for me since I am uhhhhhhhh very bad at the concept of the passage of time and frequently can't remember how long it's been since I (for example) ate. Or showered. Or did my physio exercises. Or saw the sun.

So it seems helpful to track these things without having to exert a lot of in-the-moment effort. Just snag the right color marker and draw a lil dot on the day and move on.

I figure I can also use it for more involved tracking as I find it helpful, like marking certain health symptoms or allergen exposures or other stuff like that. But I want "lots of colorful dots on my calendar" to light up my brain like a christmas tree every time I see it, so I may not include anything that would "mix the signals" so to speak. I have a pack of 9 colors coming in soon, but for now I have 5 colors to work with. I figure if I come up with more than 9 tasks to track, I can do dual-colored dots for the extra ones, or maybe the same colors but in different shapes like stars or hearts.

So "what should my self care tasks be" is my next question. I'm thinking (non-exhaustively):

Took the dogs out

Ate a meal other than dinner

Refilled my water bottle

Did a round of physio exercises/yoga/pilates

Ran a training session with the dogs

Spent 15 minutes cleaning or tidying something

Took my medicine

Listened to music for at least 30min

Brushed my teeth

I figure I can pretty easily manage 9x3 tasks to document on this thing between circles, stars, and hearts to mark them. So I figure the circles should each be done at least once a day (bare minimum tasks needed for me to do well mentally/physically that day. I think hearts should be things that need to happen at least once a week, and stars should be "this is some absolutely extra shit that is GREAT when it happens but that's usually once in a blue moon". That way I know at a glance how many critical, maintenance, and progress oriented self care tasks have happened in a day/week/month.

So for hearts I'm thinking:

Took a bath

Took the dogs to the park

Refilled my med pack

Washed a load of laundry

Take out all trash bags and reline the bins

Took the dogs on a full circuit walk

Take out one bag of recycling

Closed out all of my notes for the workday

Charged my headphones

For the stars I'm thinking:

Deep cleaned one room of the house

Changed the bed linens

Date night with wifey

Got a massage/joint manipulation session from someone

Put away clean clothes

Deep Pressure therapy with headphones

Empty one doom box

Wash and organize dog toys

Public access training with Lil Lady

Even just looking at this list makes me feel overwhelmed by the idea of doing these tasks regularly which tells me I am not doing them anywhere near often enough, so this will be interesting.

The good news of course is that since it's a whiteboard I can change my list whenever I want lmao

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Note

could you possibly do 142 and 145 for Javier Peña, all the angst /hurt no comfort (depending on how you feel 🙂)

Prompts Used:

142. “I waited and waited, but you never came back.”

145. “I wasn’t going to wait around for you forever.”

Pairing: Javier x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: language

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier swiped a tired hand over his face as he looked around your apartment. It was immaculately clean, which wasn’t far off the mark for you, but it was also empty. Now that was definitely wrong and cause for suspicion. He’d come to yours for dinner, like it had become his custom to do most nights when he wasn’t out working until the wee hours of the morning but this time was different. This time there was nothing he was coming home to. You were gone, all of your things were gone, no note, no call, nothing. It was like you had up and disappeared without a trace.

In his frantic efforts to soothe and ease his anxieties and worries, he had gone back to his apartment to see if you were there for some reason. Hell, he’d even called up Steve and asked him if he’d heard from you or anything. He was growing desperate. You were so open and communicative normally this was highly unlike you. At least he knew you were more than likely safe; it didn’t seem like anyone associated with Escobar knew who you were or that they would just come and pack up your things and take you. No...this was considerably more calculated and cunning. This was something that had been planned. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out. That’s what it made it hurt so much worse; that’s what made his stomach twist and churn and his heart constrict. This was something that you had obviously been planning for a while.

He leaned against the wall before sliding down to the floor and looking at the ceiling as he tried to ground himself. His dark eyes were bloodshot and prickled with the unfamiliar sting of tears as he tried to figure what could have possibly happened. What changed so suddenly?

Javier had been so careful over the years, building so many walls and barriers to protect and guard himself. He’d steeled his heart and cut off displaying most emotions in order to preserve what little feeling and emotion he had left within himself. It seemed to dwindle to less and less every day.

But then he’d let you; completely by chance and utterly by accident at a bar where he aided in protecting from a man that was relentless in his pursuit of you. You’d approached him with wide doe eyes, mouthing something he couldn’t quite make out - was it the noisy bar or the several drinks he’d already knocked back? - before throwing your arms around him and kissing him till you were both breathless before loudly declaring him your boyfriend for the other man to overhear.

It wasn’t long after that before you really were calling him your boyfriend - and meaning it. For whatever reason, it was you that had been able to break down all of his walls and defenses, caringly and lovingly day by day. And while it terrified him, he let it happen little bit by bit until he realized why; he loved you. The realization had come to him slowly but surely and then it had hit him like a freight train. At first it had scared him to death; he never thought he’d experience those feelings again and yet here they were. And it all felt so easy, so simple and that’s how he knew. And when those three little words left his lips at the end of a quiet evening, while you two were just relaxing and watching an old film while knocking back a few beers, he didn’t mind at all. The way you’d looked back at him with those sweet, wide eyes and how softly you repeated it back had been everything to him. He hadn’t regretted the decision at all and for once in life, he was happy to be all in.

But then...why had it led to this? There had been no major fight, no big disagreement that could have explained any of this. But you were just gone.

A long, deep inhale and exhale escaped past dry, trembling lips. He’d been working more lately, that was for sure. The closer and closer they got to Escobar, the less and less time he’d had for you. And for the most part, you hadn’t questioned him, or anything of the sort; you’d expressed concerns for his health - physical and mental - and his safety, and pleaded with him to slow and not rush into things heads on, but he didn’t listen. Of course he didn’t. And you understood for the most part; he job was in no joke, no walk in the park. But still didn’t make things easier. You tried to be there for him as much as possible in whatever way he needed, but over time it became increasingly difficult.

Nights spent together turned into Javier slinking into your bed in the early mornings and then leaving again before you were even up. He’d shown up on your doorstep injured more than a time or two, luckily never anything permanent, but it still hurt your heart. Even your weekend outings were becoming less and less frequent, turning into a relic of the past while you just missed him. If there would have been a way to help him, you would have but he had made it a point to keep you a separate part of his life. You didn’t know the horrors and never deserved too, he always claimed. What had started as something unstoppable and wild slowly fizzled into dying touches and unspoken words.

“Fuck,” he sighed to himself more than anything as he buried his face into his hands, “fuck.”

Javier remained there for a few moments, trying to gather his racing thoughts and come up with a logical conclusion on what could have happened. He was a smart man, and it really shouldn’t have been difficult for him to piece together. And then all at once, it hit him.

“Shit,” he jumped to his feet as he grabbed his keys and ran out to his car, ready to race to the airport. He was willing to pull any stunt to keep you grounded until he at least had the chance to speak to you. There was no doubt in his mind that you were planning an escape; from him and Colombia.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Hey!” Javier held up his DEA badge as he ran towards the terminal he had learned you were at. Boarding was set to begin in a few minutes so he was brazenly running like his life depended on it in order to get to you on time. He received more than a few curious glances as he weaved his way through people, his gaze honed in on you. You’d been sitting there, quietly reading, but as soon as you heard his shouts, you’d looked up in horror. He had the sneaking suspicion that you had hoped he wouldn’t put two and two together or if he did, that he wouldn’t find you in time.

“Dulzura!” he stopped directly in front of you as a hand clutched at his chest, his heart beating wildly and practically threatening to burst through, “I waited and waited and you never came back. Figured it out - what are you doing?”

“Javier,” you hissed as you slammed your book shut and put it away in your bag. Curious onlookers were almost staring at the two of you as you put a hand on his shoulder and dragged him off to the side, “what the hell are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” his dark eyes grew wide as he looked at you suspiciously, “what the hell are you doing here at the airport? Your whole apartment was packed and now you’re here?”

“My internship at the University ended last week,” you reminded him as a surprised look crossed his features. Of course he’d known...he was supposed to remember anyway. It had been marked on his calendar, but he’d been so damn busy with everything else he’d completely overlooked it. You’d even had plans to go out and celebrate...but instead he’d forgotten and you’d come home to a dark and empty apartment.

“I-I knew that…”

“Did you?” you didn’t intend for your response to be so harsh, but it was venomous and biting “because you didn’t say a word. I didn’t even see or hear from you that day.”

“Dulzura, I’m so, so sorry. Please let me-”

“I have nothing keeping me here in Colombia anymore, Javier,” you told him quietly, and you loathed how horrible it sounded. You were trying to get a point across, but wished it didn’t have to be like this, “I’m going back home to the states.”

“You have nothing...you have me,” he reminded you, shock and horror marring his features as he tried to reach for you. You recoiled out of his touch for the first time, shocking you both, "please let me explain…"

"There's nothing to explain, Javier," his name was a soft sigh as you hung your head. Your heart was always feeling heavy as you looked at his crestfallen face, "its just...its not the first thing you've forgotten lately. Our anniversary, my birthday, now this."

"Dulzura-"

"I know your job is important, I know how much this means to you," a shaky exhale left your lips as a single tear rolled down your cheek, "that's why I haven't really complained. But I can't...I can't do this, where I'm the fourth or fifth priority in your life. I know your job needs you, and so many people depend on you. But I need you to be present too. Sometimes I feel like I'm alone more than I'm not. You're here but you're not really here. I know that it sounds selfish but I want you too."

"I know things have been crazy lately," he was tempted to reach up and touch your cheek but stopped himself. He wasn't sure if he could take more heartbreak, "but they’ll settle down...they'll get better and it will all be over soon. I swear it. I just need a little more time."

"And that's what you've been saying for months," it was a sharp, cruel reminder of how things had really been. You didn't want to be mad at him or end up resenting everything about him, which was partially the reason for how things had turned out, why you'd made your decision, "its like there's a whole part of you I don't even know, that happens to be a majority of your life."

"I just want to keep you safe," he huffed, running a hand through his already messy hair, "that's all. It's-"

"Dangerous," you finished for him, "I know, and I get it. I do but I just...I can’t do this anymore. Where I only get half of you, or even less. I know it’s horribly selfish and I might be the worst person alive, but I can’t...I can’t do this anymore, Javi. I want to be able to get all of you, and to know you’re safe and sound and that I don’t have to worry about...you getting hurt...or worse.”

“It won’t always be like this,” he insisted softly, as you nodded in agreement. One day things would come to a head, whether or not they were in his favor was yet to be determined. And you did love him, more than anything. More than life itself, and the idea of having to watch him get hurt over and over or worse...was too much to bear. And while it sounded cruel and horrible, you’d rather create a distance between yourselves and cut ties rather than deal with the insurmountable loss and grief of Javier, “I just need you to hold on a little longer…”

“Javier...I love you, but I...I wasn’t going to wait around forever,” you sighed lightly, “we both knew that my time here wasn’t permanent and we thought..this would be over by now. If I knew, or you could guarantee me that there was a way this would be over soon and you’d be safe, I would stay. I would. But right now there’s no way to know, and you’re getting further and further away from me and that scares me to death. I-I can’t protect you. I can’t do anything to help and I don’t want to be the one to…”

Deal with your death.

“Okay,” it was a small sound of defeat as he fought back a whimper that threatened to escape past pouted lips. He knew you were right; gods, you deserved the world and he couldn’t even give you himself or even a semblance of a clear future together. He wished things had been different; and he was mad and angry, not at you but at the cruel world that had allowed him to experience a taste of such saccharine bliss before taking it all away again. He knew there was nothing he could do to convince you to say. None of the arguments were in his favor. He took a step back, lightly nodding at himself, trying to remain composed, “I get it. I do. I’m just sorry I wasn’t able to be there for you how you needed. I’m sorry I couldn’t be enough.”

“You are more than enough, Javier,” you promised, reaching for his hand as you offered him a gentle touch, “it’s just the situation - the reality of things. I guess we’re not allotted the things we want in life, huh? I wish things were different. I-I wish I was strong to stay here and wait for you. But I can’t…”

Waste years of my life wondering if you were dead or alive. Worrying about my safety and yours and remaining helpless.

“I know,” he took his chances and leaned over, placing a kiss to the side of your head, “you’re right. You should go.”

“Javier,” you leaned into him, tears cascading down your cheeks as you wished you could hold onto him and never let go, “I’m sorry, I really am. I love you, more than you'll ever know. But I just...I tried to tell you I was leaving. But every time I did, you weren't really there or the time wasn’t right. I’m sorry.”

“I love you,” he promised softly, “that’s why this hurts more than anything else. I… can’t stop you and you need to do what’s right. This is right. So...go home and be safe. Maybe one day…”

“We’ll see each other again, I promise. One way or another, in this life or the next,” you tenderly cradled his face in your hands before kissing him one last time, “but right now I have to go. I love you.”

“Yeah,” he agreed softly as you let go, almost jumping at the boarding announcement. Pulling back, you offered him the ghost of a smile before grabbing your bags and heading to check in.

Javier didn’t turn around to watch you go, instead hanging his head before exhaling loudly, attempting to shake off this situation. He steeled himself again, willing the Javier he used to be to come back up before he walked away and out of the airport, never so much as casting a glance back.

This part of his life was over and done with and he was going to let it die like so many other things.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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blossom-hwa · 4 years ago

Text

Skipping Stones - KEVIN

This was the second full scenario I ever finished for The Boyz and I think it was pretty nice to start with some soft Kevin :D THANK YOU KAI FOR LETTING ME YELL TO YOU ABOUT THIS ONE I HOPE IT LIVES UP TO YOUR EXPECTATIONS.

Anyway! Happy (slightly early but only by a couple hours??) birthday to one of the best boys in the world, the one and only wonderful beautiful lovely Kevin Moon! I hope you all enjoy this <3 please reblog if you did!

Pairing: Kevin x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, teacher!au

Triggers: cursing, alcohol

Word Count: 7.8k

Falling in love with you, Kevin thinks, is a bit like skipping stones.

Alternatively:

Five times Kevin felt himself falling deeper in love with you, and the one time he knew he was gone.

TBZ Masterlist | Touching Stars | Breathe, and Live

prelude.

Kevin knows he exists to be clowned. His sister says it’s something about his face – there’s something undeniably meme-y about his reactions, apparently, that makes him very clownable. His students tell him it’s in his demeanor – he comes off as pretty chill, according to them, which makes him easy to tease because they know he’ll react in some hilarious way, but it won’t affect him too deeply.

(Changmin just says he’s stupid, which makes him clownable to the highest degree, but Kevin refuses to take information from the teacher who still scares him every other week with whichever horror movie mask has recently caught his fancy.)

So Kevin knows he’s just a clownable human being, and he’s resigned himself to that fate for the rest of his life. But around you? His calm, collected, hilarious, wonderful partner? He expected a little less clownery and a little more loving.

“Oh, come on,” you laugh, trying to get Kevin to turn around. Honestly, he’s already feeling the effects of withdrawal from not seeing your smile for more than a few minutes, but he refuses to budge, lips curved downwards in a semi-permanent pout. He knows he won’t be able to keep this up for long (he’ll miss looking at your face too much, and really, he can’t be mad at you about anything), but he can make a scene. “Kevin!”

“You’re so mean,” he whines, still resisting your efforts to make him look at you. “I just poured out a very embarrassing part of my childhood to you and instead of comforting me, you laugh?” His pout deepens. “I don’t know why we’re dating.”

Your hands leave the back of his shoulders. For a second, Kevin thinks you’ve given up and he’s about to start whining about that too, but then you appear in front of him, fingers clasped placatingly. “All right, all right, Kevin.” Still grinning, you grab his hands. “I won’t tease anymore. But seriously, how could you expect me not to laugh my ass off when you told me you learned to skip stones for the –” you make jazz hands, presumably to emphasize your point – “aesthetic?”

Kevin sticks his lip out childishly. “I didn’t think it was that funny,” he mumbles.

“It’s not, not really.” You squeeze his hands. “But it’s a move that’s got Kevin Moon stamped all over it.” As if to accentuate your point, you snort. “Of course you’d learn to skip stones for the aesthetic.”

“Y/N,” he whines.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Your teasing grin melts into an eager smile. “Hey, teach me?”

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

It feels like Kevin’s physically crumbling to pieces with the way your hopeful voice and sparkling eyes just attack him from all angles. Grudgingly, the deep pout on his lips stretches into a smile, the starstruck smile that all of his friends like to tease him for. “Fine, let’s go.”

He spends the rest of the afternoon stepping around small children and younger couples, trying to find suitable rocks for skipping and teaching you the right angles, the right stance, the right way to hold the stone in your hand before sending it into the water. You learn fast, something he envies – where it took him at least a couple of weeks to perfect the art, you (mostly) pick it up in a matter of hours – but he can’t feel too jealous or too bad when you look up at him after your stone skips once on the water. “Kevin, I did it!” You shake him slightly. “Did you see that?”

The softest smile spreads across Kevin’s face as he kisses your forehead softly “Yeah, I did.”

When he pulls away, you give him the brightest grin before scrambling away to find more stones to skip. Kevin just watches, taking in the way your figure looks against the setting sun, bright gold and pale pink light streaming over your body, almost making you glow.

This is why he fell in love with you, he thinks. Your character, your tenacity, the way you throw yourself into every task you’ve been assigned so that you can complete it as best as you can. It doesn’t matter if you’re trying to treat a new cancer case at the hospital or trying to skip a stupid rock across the water. You always give it your all.

Idly, Kevin picks up a stone of his own. With a practiced flick of his wrist, it goes sailing onto the lake, skipping three, four, five times before sinking beneath the surface.

Falling in love with you is a bit like skipping stones, he thinks, watching the stone disappear from sight. Someone had to force him into that first blind date with you, much like making the first toss of the stone into the water, but every skip after that was quick, effortless, the way he felt himself falling for you, step by stumbling step, until his heart finally gave in and sank below the waves of your warmth.

It’s hard to imagine a time when he wasn’t in love with you, even though such a time did at one point exist. But the way you make him feel with the smallest things you do – the way you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, the way you rest your chin on your hand in thought – it feels like he’s known you for an eternity and loved you even longer, loved you before time existed.

Your stone skips twice across the water and you shout with joy, racing up to Kevin to celebrate. He catches you when you leap at him, arms wrapping around your waist automatically, smiling into your shining face. Yes, he thinks, he’s in love.

He’s so in love with you.

. . . . .

Kevin, by all definitions of the word, is panicking.

He’s been dreading this blind date for almost a month now, circling the day on his calendar and marking it D-Day, begging Jacob and Changmin to come along and hide in case he needs to be bailed out, relentlessly praying that he’ll be able to leave the stupid date in one piece.

(Look, as much as he appreciates Mrs. Park’s kindness and her brownies, she can be… a little overbearing. To say the least.)

Just a few hours ago, he was putting on his yellow sweater and bemoaning the existence of his pushy coworker. Just a few hours ago, he was lamenting his fate to his two friends (friends is a term he will use loosely for today – all they did was laugh at him). Just a few hours ago, he was cursing the existence of Mrs. Park and her brownies for getting him locked into this date with her sister’s kid. Wait, was it her sister? Or her brother?

(“Yes, her sister,” Changmin says, rolling his eyes. “Pay more attention, won’t you, Kev?”

Kevin groans. “Why couldn’t either of you be chosen by Mrs. Park, huh? Why me?”

“Because I have a partner and Jacob is good at disappearing.” Changmin grins that evil, evil grin he always has on just before he’s about to execute a prank on someone (usually Kevin).

“More like the two of you are good at leaving me to fend for myself against Mrs. Park, even though you know I can’t say no to shit,” Kevin grumbles.

“Give up her brownies,” Jacob suggests.

Kevin gasps. “No way in hell.”)

But now, he’s actually sitting across from you in a café not too far from his apartment, holding a cup of coffee between his (visibly shaking) hands. And he can’t even think of why he was dreading this date so much because you’re just… really, really perfect.

Why are you so sweet? he’s screaming inside. Why are you so funny? Why are you literally the perfect mix of snark and kindness and just – everything?

“So my aunt told me you work with her,” you say, seemingly oblivious to Kevin’s jitters. The smile on your face is really sending electricity racing through his heart. “I know the children must be fun, but I know she can be a bit… overbearing.” There’s a hint of apology in your eyes, like you know your aunt must have pressured him into this and you’re sorry that he had to come on a date with you.

Kevin’s stomach flip-flops. Okay, so Mrs. Park maybe did severely pressure and sweetly blackmail Kevin into a blind date. But Kevin also doesn’t want you to feel bad for it because it’s not your fault at all, so as usual, when he finds himself in a tight spot, his mouth decides it’s time to run.

“No, your aunt is really nice,” he starts. “I really mean it – she’s always very kind to the kids and to the rest of us teachers. I’m still kind of new compared to the rest of them – I’ve only been at the school for a few years now – but she helped me feel welcome that first year when I was still figuring things out. And she also likes Beyonce! You know, the greatest female artist there is? She let me play my entire playlist of Beyonce songs for her last year and she liked every single one of them!”

Kevin’s babbling now. Rambling. Whatever he wants to call it. His brain is screaming for him to stop talking but his mouth won’t stop running because this is what he does when he’s nervous. He talks. Endlessly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the table where Changmin and Jacob are situated in case they need to rescue him from mental or physical harm. The top of Changmin’s head is barely visible behind a huge menu so Kevin can barely see his friend, but somewhere in his babbling haze, he notices a phone camera poking out from behind the menu.

If he wasn’t blushing before, he definitely is now.

Finally, his mouth listens to his brain and he trails off on his last thought on why Beyonce is the best artist in the entire world. There’s a second of silence.

“Sorry,” Kevin finally squeaks. “I… tend to ramble when I get nervous. Or when I talk about Beyonce.”

Your smile flashes even wider. Kevin is torn between wanting to melt into the ground out of embarrassment and staying upright to keep seeing that grin on your face.

“Don’t be sorry,” you laugh, fiddling with your cup of coffee. “I thought it was cute.”

Kevin’s face burns so much that he misses what you say next. “Sorry?”

You grin. “I’m always interested in hearing about a new artist to add to my playlist.”

Kevin lets out a theatrical gasp. “You don’t have Beyonce in your music library?”

A sheepish look spreads across your face. “… No?”

“Oh my God.” Kevin pulls out his phone. “Okay, I’m about to educate you on the artist of our time.”

The afternoon, then, passes in a flash. Changmin and Jacob eventually just up and exit the café (presumably with enough blackmail to last the rest of Kevin’s life – he knows he was acting like a complete fool, but luckily, you didn’t seem to care), leaving him alone with you. Under any other circumstances, he probably would’ve started crying, but you’re so sweet and so interesting that Kevin thinks he could stay and talk to you in this café forever.

He learns you’re an oncologist at a nearby children’s hospital, that even though the work is hard and tiring and sometimes overwhelmingly depressing, the strength of the children and the families you work with inspire you to keep going every day. He learns that you don’t have too much of a sweet tooth (though you won’t say no to ice cream or cheesecake, both of which he notes in his head), he learns that you love coffee, and he learns that you like to take walks in the park whenever you have a little bit of free time.

He also learns that you’re snarky, intelligent, driven, hardworking. He learns that you’re something far beyond the beauty of your face – that underneath your skin, there’s a heart that’s warmer than the sun.

Kevin understands that this is only the first date and that he maybe shouldn’t be making judgments so quickly. But he’s been told that he’s a relatively good judge of character, and the genuine look in your eyes when you talks speaks volumes about the person deep inside.

Even though you live further away, Kevin takes the bus with you to your home, citing that it’s only polite to walk one’s date to the door (in reality, he just wants to spend a little more time with you). As the bus rattles along the road, Kevin lets you listen to the songs on his phone, delighting in the way your head bobs to the beat of his favorite tracks.

Kevin’s a bit sad when you reach your apartment, sad that your time together is over for the day. He lingers outside the building for a moment, trying to work up the courage to ask about a second date.

Suddenly, you lean forward. Kevin jerks back – he briefly wonders if you’re trying to kiss him – but you just pat a spot on his sweater, frowning slightly at your fingers. “Is that… paint?”

Oh my God.

Kevin tugs the material of his sweater forward so he can see the spot you’re pointing at. Sure enough, there’s a small patch of red paint on the yellow fuzz. He groans. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Well, that’s what people like us get for working with children.” You roll your eyes comically, and Kevin bursts into laughter that’s definitely too loud for the small joke you made. Then silence falls again.

You break it. “Listen, Kevin.”

He perks up. “Hmm?”

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this date because my aunt has been trying to set me up with people my age for several years now.” For the first time today, you look shy. “She was probably really pushy with you too, so I’m sorry about that. But I really enjoyed this afternoon.” You meet Kevin’s eyes. “If you’d like, I’d love to go on a second date.”

Kevin’s heart explodes. It really does. Sheer excitement courses through his veins, and he has to stop himself from smiling widely enough to mimic a god damn clown. “I’d love that,” he says trying to hide how eager he really is. “Um, I’ll say that I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this either, mostly because my experience with blind dates has had… limited success. But I’m really glad I met you. You’re a wonderful person.”

Your smile grows wider at Kevin’s admission. “Thank you, Kevin. You’re wonderful too.”

“Do you kiss on the first date?” he blurts out because his brain has no filter. Then he backtracks. “Um, it’s totally okay if you don’t, I was just asking, please don’t think I’m a creep –”

You briefly press your lips to his. Kevin shuts up.

When you break away, Kevin honestly thinks you’re glowing. “Does that answer your question?” you ask, bravely trying to hide something – is that embarrassment? Whatever it is, he thinks it’s adorable.

Kevin blushes. “Yes.”

People probably think he’s insane with the way he’s smiling on the bus ride back to his apartment. He can’t help it, though – the tingling touch of your lips, gentle against his, plays over and over in his mind, along with memories of your lovely voice and your lovely smile and your lovely, lovely disposition. Some people are giving him weird looks, and Jacob and Changmin are sure to tease him to no end when he comes in to work tomorrow.

But who cares? Kevin’s got a second date in the works with one of the most wonderful people he’s ever met.

In his mind, he’s on top of the world.

. . . . .

ii.

Usually, when Kevin gets lucky and scores a second date or a third, he suggests taking his date somewhere with children to gauge how they feel about small toddlers tearing up the place. Children are a huge part of Kevin’s life – he teaches elementary school and knows he wants kids when he gets a bit older – so one of the silent standards he’s set for potential significant others is that they have to like and be good with children.

You work at a children’s hospital, Kevin knows, so you must at least be good with kids, even if you might not like them (hey, it’s possible – Kevin has known many people who are good at things they hate). That fulfills half of the standard. He just needs to gauge the other half.

There aren’t many events at the school coming up, though – no plays, no art exhibitions, nothing he can really invite you to. He’s racking his brains for a third date somehow involving children when you unexpectedly call him about an event at the hospital.

“I know it’s last minute,” you apologize profusely, “but the guy who was supposed to come today for the kids’ music hour called in sick. I don’t want to cancel the event because they always look forward to it and I know you play the piano – would it be possible for you to fill in?”

It is possible, it turns out. He may not be able to pack his Yamaha upright into the back of your car, but he does have an electronic keyboard that fits into your trunk. The whole way there, you’re apologizing, but between reassurances that it’s totally fine, Kevin can’t help but anticipate how you’ll act around the children once the two of you arrive.

Setting up takes more time than he’d like (the extension cord that comes with his keyboard is too short, so you disappear on a twenty-minute manhunt for a longer one while Kevin just stands there awkwardly), which makes him feel slightly like a burden on the rest of your coworkers. They’re so polite, though, so genuine and kind, that Kevin eventually starts to feel more at ease.

(He’s still endlessly grateful when you return, extension cord clasped victoriously in one hand.)

Then the kids start trickling in, and Kevin’s heart immediately both breaks and melts. Some are in wheelchairs, others have lost their hair, but they’re all smiling with so much excitement, chattering to their parents and the staff around them as they settle on beanbags and pillows on the floor. Several look at him curiously and he smiles at them, prompting several questions about who he is, why there’s a keyboard and not a guitar, and why the normal guy isn’t here.

“The usual guy got sick and couldn’t come,” Kevin says to one sweet girl with chubby cheeks and shining eyes. “I’m just here to replace him for a day.”

“Do you play the piano?” she asks, shyly pointing at the keyboard, which more than a few curious souls are standing around.

Kevin smiles. “Yes, I do.” He would say more, maybe offer to show her the instrument a little, but then you’re walking over, and her eyes brighten. “Dr. L/N!” she cheers.

With a loud laugh, you swoop her up carefully, cradling the girl against your shoulder. “How are you, Daeun?” you ask, lips spread in a smile that Kevin knows can’t be faked.

The girl – Daeun – grins. “I’ve been good!” she announces proudly. “Are we going to start soon?”

You laugh again, settling her back down on the floor. Kevin thinks his heart melts with the way your eyes sparkle. “Yes, we are,” you say. “I see you’ve already met Kevin?”

“Your name is Kevin?” Daeun looks at him curiously. “Your name is strange.”

Kevin has to force himself not to coo. “I was born in Canada,” he says. “My Korean name is Hyungseo.”

Daeun’s nose scrunches. “I like Kevin more,” she decides with finality.

Kevin feels brave enough to pat her on the head. “Then you can call me Kevin.”

“All right, Daeun. Go find your mom, okay? Kevin and I are going to finish setting up, and then we’ll get started.” With a soft kiss on the forehead (Kevin makes a sound he really hopes you don’t hear – the scene is just too adorable), you send the small girl off, turning back to Kevin. “Shall we get started?” you ask, grinning widely.

It may only be the third date, but he’s falling in love, Kevin thinks, falling in love with your shining face and sparkling eyes, with the way you shower love upon the children you’ve placed under your care. Right now, you’re everything he’s ever wanted in a future partner – beautiful in character, kind, gentle, fiercely loving.

His heart pounds a little faster.

Belatedly, Kevin realizes you’re waiting for a response and nods quickly. “Yeah,” he breathes, eyes glancing over the sea of children waiting (somewhat) patiently. A smile to rival yours spreads across his face. “Let’s get started.”

. . . . .

iii.

Kevin loves the last Friday of every month, he really does. It’s been tradition for several years now to go out with Changmin and Jacob on what he calls nights for “the boyz” to eat cheap food and get drunk. And no matter how much the others complain about the stupid name (Kevin will admit it sounds stupid now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll change it), he knows they enjoy the nights all the same.

Sometimes, though, Kevin just wishes he had more of a filter on his mouth. If not that, then maybe his brain could stop remembering every single dumb thing he said or did on drunk nights out. It would make his life a lot easier if he could just forget being stupid.

But no, God decided to be mean when making Kevin Moon. So Kevin, as a result, is an emotional drunk. He cries a lot when he hears about sad or adorable things, he says a lot of stupid stuff to (badly) express his overwhelming feelings, and worst of all, he remembers all of it when he wakes up hungover the next morning.

(None of this stops him from getting drunk anyway. Kevin Moon doesn’t learn lessons when it comes to alcohol. When he falls on his face (sometimes literally), he just gets up again, even if it’s with a bloody nose.)

Luckily, the night doesn’t end in chaos. Even though Jacob, who’s half of Kevin’s impulse control, leaves after an hour (he’s meeting with his family the next day, so Kevin is obligated call him a noob – it’s like a law of physics or something), Changmin doesn’t seem to be in the mood to do weird things without Jacob there to stop him, so the night passes relatively smoothly without Kevin throwing, like, a tantrum or anything.

He gets close, though. Because damn, if Changmin isn’t so fucking adorable when talking about his partner. Buried in his purple hoodie, black hair peeking softly over the top, it’s impossible for Kevin not to tear up when Changmin begins gushing over his beautiful, amazing, wonderful significant other whom he just compared to stardust.

Stardust.

Kevin wants to scream, that’s so romantic.

When you come to pick him and Changmin up, Kevin can’t resist relaying all of this to you as soon as he gets in the car. Vaguely, he thinks he should be worried about Changmin hearing it and hitting him, but the boy is mostly asleep in the back, eyes only fluttering slightly when you go over a bump or something. After Changmin gets dropped off at his apartment, Kevin turns the gushing on full force.

“Y/N, the love of my life, he called her stardust,” he’s still babbling even as you strongarm him up to his own apartment. “He’s so adorable. Changmin is so adorable. Oh my God.”

He thinks you snort. Probably. It would be a normal response. “Didn’t you call him the spawn of Satan just a few days ago?”

Definitely a snort, Kevin thinks, but he’s too invested in Changmin’s loveliness to whine about you making fun of him. “Y/N,” he pouts instead, “listen to meeeeee.”

“I’m listening, I’m listening.” You grunt, catching him just as he misses the next step and almost falls forward. “Hey, be careful.”

“’M trying.” Kevin manfully does his best to stop the world from tilting on its side. “But Changminnie.”

“Yes, yes, Changminnie.” Even drunk, Kevin can make out the playful exasperation in your voice. “Keep going.”

“Thank you, love of my life.” Kevin tries to give you a kiss but his lips hit air instead of your cheek. “Heck.”

You burst into loud laughter. “Kevin Moon, you never told me you were this adorable when drunk.”

“Changminnie,” he says more insistently.

“Okay, yes, I’m listening.” You kiss his cheek instead, and Kevin almost topples over right then and there. “Hey, you can’t fall over whenever I kiss you. Tell me about Changmin.”

Kevin starts flailing his arms around as best he can. “He’s so cute!” he half-yells. “He told me his partner was like stardust because she’s so perfect and warm, but she’s also like stardust because… because…”

His lip juts out.

“Oh, no, don’t cry, Kev.” You stop moving, then Kevin registers you bundling him into a hug, patting his head. “I know you’re a sad emotional drunk, but don’t cry.”

“Not crying,” Kevin protests, visibly crying.

“Mhm.” You pat his head one last time before letting go. “Hey, give me a second, I’m going to unlock your door.”

There’s some fumbling and a quiet snick, then Kevin obediently follows you through the door of his apartment. Once inside, you press a thumb to the side of his face, brushing a tear away. “Tell me what Changmin said to make you sad.”

“Changminnie said he’s afraid she’ll… she’ll… slip away between his fingers. Like stardust.” Kevin feels like he’s going to start sobbing any moment now. “He’s afraid she’s going to leave him eventually because she’s too perfect and he’s not good enough.”

“Oh my God.” You sit down on the couch. Kevin follows suit, albeit a lot more ungracefully as he collapses onto a cushion in a tangle of limbs. “Oh my God, that’s so sad and cute at the same time.”

“I said he should call her his star,” Kevin mumbles, turning slightly so he can burrow into your side. “Because stardust. Texted them about it. Both of them.”

Your laugh sounds like music even to the drunken haze of his brain. “Wonder what they’ll think when they see a drunken keysmash on their phones first thing tomorrow morning.”

The two of you sit in silence for a bit. Kevin feels his eyes beginning to get droopy, and he almost falls asleep before a thought strikes him with lightning force.

“I need to give you a nickname!” he almost yells, sitting bolt upright. The movement makes the room spin, but he doesn’t care. This is urgent. “Changmin’s going to call her his star, but I haven’t given you a nickname yet!”

“Kev, Kev.” You hold him by the shoulders, and he relaxes a little. “You can come up with a nickname for me in the morning. Right now, I think you need to sleep.”

“No,” he whines, shifting in your grip. “This is important. You need a nickname.” He sinks into deep, drunken thoughts, the kinds of thoughts he has when he ignores everything around him in favor of getting philosophical after having drunk too much alcohol.

Then it hits him.

“Oh my God,” he gasps. “Oh my God.” It’s his turn to grab you by the shoulders, now. “Oh my God. You’re the sun. Because I’m the moon. Get it? Kevin Moon?”

Through his drunken haze, Kevin thinks he sees you smile, maybe. It looks like a smile.

Your eyes are sparkling. You look happy.

Probably a smile.

“I’m a genius,” he whispers. A genius for coming up with the nickname and for making you happy.

“Sure, Kevin.” You grunt a little as he shifts his weight. “Come on, get up. We’ll see if you’re still a genius tomorrow if you wake up and remember all of this.”

Kevin doesn’t register much for the rest of the night, just remembers falling into his bed and forcing you to lie down next to him. The next morning, he wakes up with a throbbing headache and the vague, ever-present worry that he said something stupid last night.

You’re not in the bed with him anymore. Kevin blinks once, twice, before trying to sit up so to figure out where you went. Then he remembers you don’t live here. You probably went home.

Which is why he nearly goes into cardiac arrest when you appear in his doorway, holding a mug of coffee and a glass of water.

For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other. Kevin’s not sure what thoughts are running through your head, but he knows he’s trying to piece together what happened last night, and whether or not he should be hiding under the covers out of embarrassment.

Then it hits him.

Sun.

Moon.

Genius.

Oh, God.

Kevin wants to die.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, using your new nickname in the desperate hope that it’ll distract you from remembering the rest of what he said last night.

A catlike smirk curls your lips as you walk over, pressing the glass of water into his hands. A feeling of dread fills Kevin’s heart as he takes it.

“Morning, genius,” you say with enough evil delight to power Changmin for a year.

Kevin groans. “I was drunk.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Your teasing smile melts into something gentler as you place your mug on the bedside table, turning to bring the glass of water in his hands to his lips. “Coffee’s mine, don’t touch it or I’ll break a bone. Drink the water. I made some breakfast, so come into the kitchen whenever you feel up to it. After you’ve brushed your teeth.”

Warmth courses through Kevin’s body, and it has nothing to do with the alcohol from last night and everything to do with how you’re here in body and mind, sweetly helping him recover from a stupid hangover even when it’s definitely not your problem to take care of and you probably have better things to do. His heart thumps, loud enough that he thinks you could probably hear it.

In this moment, Kevin doesn’t think he’s ever been more grateful for anything than you coming into his life.

“Got it.” He awkwardly tries to salute, but he does it with the hand holding the glass and the water nearly spills onto the bed. As his cheeks flush, you break into snorting giggles.

Even though it’s at his expense, Kevin thinks he would do anything, anything in the world, to keep that wonderful smile on your face and that musical laughter in the air.

. . . . .

iv.

Only when you move in together does Kevin realize just how taxing your job is. He had an idea from when you sometimes had to cancel or move around dates, but when you did meet up, you were usually energetic and cheerful. Of course, there were the token dates where you just came over to Kevin’s apartment or he came over to yours and you just flopped around for a few hours. Outside, though, you always showed a bright face.

But that was because dates were mostly on your days off or when your hours were short, and as a result, you felt good enough, energized enough to show Kevin your brilliant smile. When you first moved in together, Kevin felt a bit surprised – well, maybe not surprised, but saddened – that you didn’t have the energy to smile as brightly as he saw before.

It’s fine by Kevin, though. You smile often enough, and if your teeth don’t show as much as they used to, there’s something beautiful, something calming and sweet in the slower curve of your lips, the gentle, lethargic way you lean up for a kiss. After all, Kevin has enough energy to compensate for when you might lack some of yours.

(It helps that he can cook, he thinks. Even when the kids at school sometimes wear him out, the brief sparkle in your eye that spreads across your lips when you walk through the door to see him stirring something on the stove is more than enough to make up for it.)

You’re cute, too, when you’re tired. Though Kevin loves it when you’re energetic and ready for whatever the day has decided to throw in your path, there’s something so peaceful, so pleasant about feeling you lying lethargically against his side on the couch, scrolling through your phone or reading a book or just resting, doing nothing but breathing softly. Kevin cherishes those small moments, the soft atmosphere where he kisses your hair and you smile, reach up, and press a kiss of your own to his cheek.

Tonight is one of those nights, a night of soft, comforting silence, words few and far between. It’s been a bit warm lately, so Kevin’s elected to wear one of the tank tops he keeps for the warmer months instead of his usual sweater.

You sit next to him on the couch, back pressed to his side as you send off emails on your phone. Kevin’s working too, inputting grades on his laptop. He hums a little under his breath to take his mind off of the monotony of his task.

At some point, you finish, putting down your phone with a sigh and slumping into his ribs. Kevin starts at the sudden movement. “Sunshine,” he whines, even though he could really care less.

“Moon boy,” you parrot in the same tone of voice.

Kevin’s attention turns back to his laptop, so he barely registers you shifting on the couch to a new position. He does notice it, though, when your fingers start trailing along his skin, exposed by the lack of sleeves on his tank top, because your touch tickles.

You completely ignore his resulting twitch of surprise, only keep tracing the skin of his rib cage. Kevin looks down, confused as to what’s caught your attention.

Oh. His tattoos.

“Sunshine?” he asks softly, watching your fingers shift along his skin.

“Mm,” you hum, eyes still fixated on the ink decorating his side.

“Sleepy?”

Slowly, you shake your head, fingers paused on the image of Mickey Mouse. “Not yet.”

He goes back to inputting grades, all the while still aware of your fingers tracing the lines, the curls, the swirls of black ink along his side. When he finishes, he looks over before closing his laptop to see your eyes still focused on his skin.

Something in his heart explodes, spreading a tingly, comforting warmth throughout his body. It’s a feeling he’s come to associate with your presence, a feeling of absolute security, absolute trust, absolute warmth that comes with falling in love with you.

You look up, noticing his lack of movement. “Finished, moonbeams?”

“First moon boy, now moonbeams?” Kevin teases you lightly, picking up the hand you were using to trace his skin and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. Just like every other time he’s ever done it, a wide smile spreads across your face and a shyness sparkles in your eyes, as though you still can’t believe the bliss of the moment.

(At least, that’s what Kevin feels every time you do something to remind him that he’s yours.)

Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Can’t call you moonshine, that’s an alcohol.” You shrug as best as you can in your stretched-out position. “Moonbeams, moon boy… whatever feels right.”

Kevin puts his laptop on the coffee table. As he leans back into the couch, you curl up into him, one hand still lingering against the Mickey Mouse tattoo on his side. “Tell me about these?” you ask, pressing your fingers a bit more firmly against the ink.

His tattoos are personal, serving as reminders of the past and inspiration to keep moving. Rarely does he share their meanings with anyone (not that people usually ask, because the tattoos are mostly covered by his clothes), and only with those who mean the world to him.

Kevin thinks you qualify as one of them.

Touching your shoulders, he turns you around slightly, just enough to press a short, sweet kiss to the top of your head. “Of course, sunshine.” He smiles, gazing into your eyes, feeling the warmth of your love travel through his limbs. “Which one first?”

. . . . .

Kevin Moon, for the majority of his life, has hovered in between being classified as a morning person or a night owl. Yes, he gets up at six in the morning for a cup of coffee, but he also stays up past midnight doing… stuff. Grading, writing reports, watching cat videos, wasting time.

(When Changmin judges his lifestyle, Kevin just reminds him that he fell in love with his roommate’s hookup and is on a dance team with the parent of one of his students.)

Honestly, if Kevin didn’t remind himself every so often that he’s currently a full adult, his lifestyle would make him think he was still in college. He certainly still acts like it when he isn’t working. Procrastinating? Check. Crying over reports he needs to submit at three a.m.? Check. Flopping around on the floor when life is going badly? Check.

And most importantly: nonexistent sleep schedule? Check.

You put a stop to that real quick when you move in, both directly and indirectly. Directly, you make an appointment for him at a sleep clinic after figuring out his shitty sleep patterns, and Kevin finds out he probably has mild insomnia. The aftermath is horrible – you put him on a strict sleep schedule and all but ban caffeine from his diet (goodbye, morning coffee) – but it helps, after a couple of weeks. He sleeps better. Perks of having a partner who works in medicine.

Indirectly, though, you probably make a bigger difference.

See, the way Kevin thinks about it, he just never had a lot of reasons to stay in bed very long. Even though he appreciates sleep, really appreciates it on long days, it’s just that he can’t really force it if it doesn’t want to come. He’d also rather be doing something productive (or not productive, depends on the asker’s perspective) than lying awake for hours, anyway.

But now that he’s waking up to a face he loves?

Well, even if you sometimes disappear before he wakes (hospital hours are whack as hell, but sadly, you can’t ignore your job), Kevin will just say your warmth is a powerful incentive to stay huddled under the covers, even if he can’t fall back asleep.

He still wakes up every morning to grey light beginning to peek through the window. No matter how hard he tries to sleep in just a little longer, his body can’t seem to stay unconscious past six in the morning, so both of you have just resigned yourselves to the fact that Kevin will always be an early riser.

Before you walked into his life, he would’ve rolled out of bed almost immediately, stumbled to the bathroom (and maybe knocked his knee against the doorframe, who knows), then started brewing coffee in the kitchen to start the day.

Now?

A drowsy smile begins to make its way across Kevin’s face, soft as the morning light, when his brain catches up to the present and he registers your warmth under the covers. Sleepily, he blinks, taking in the sight of your peaceful face buried halfway in the sheets.

You shouldn’t look this beautiful, Kevin thinks, not with your hair strewn all over the pillow, blankets rumpled around your shoulders, arms outstretched so that one sort of curls over his body while the other is held up to your chest. It’s the morning – no one should look pretty and put-together. That isn’t natural.

(Unless you happy to be Kim Younghoon, but that’s another story.)

Yet you somehow look like a sleeping deity in Kevin’s mind, even with your hair a mess and drool drying on the pillowcase. As the drowsiness clears from his eyes, as the light from the window grows brighter, Kevin can barely even think of moving, of disturbing your peace.

He dislikes your alarm. It’s loud, annoying, and hits him with a jolt when he’s just trying to take these stolen morning moments to admire your beauty. When he complains about it the first time, you tell him to serve as the alarm, to wake you up himself.

Kevin counters that he’s an artist, that he needs peace and quiet to give beauty of such a degree the respect it deserves. You just roll your eyes, telling him that if he isn’t going to wake you up, the alarm’s going to have to take that job. The smile on your face, though, and the brief kiss you press to his lips right after, speaks volumes for the emotions Kevin’s words make you feel.

(He loves flustering you like this, even if you pretend his words don’t make you feel some sort of way.)

So eventually, you wake, eyes fluttering as the alarm brings you back to the conscious plane. Kevin’s heart feels like it’s bursting when your eyes fully open, blearily blinking at the world.

“Morning, sunshine,” he whispers, running one hand through your hair.

You lean slightly into the touch, the corners of your lips twitching up. And every day, as he stares into your sleepy eyes, lips curling as you whisper a quiet “Morning, moon boy” in reply, Kevin knows he’s falling, falling in love with every part of you.

. . . . .

+i.

Kevin’s waiting in front of the school when you pull up at the curb. Smiling apologetically, he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek as you step out of the car. “Sorry, sunshine.” He gestures at the two small boys standing beside him, absorbed in their own world. “Their uncle’s running late and Changmin and Jacob have things to do, so I need to wait for Sangyeon to pick them up before we can go.”

“No worries.” You return the kiss, smiling as bright as the sun. Kevin feels a flash of pride for coming up with a nickname that fits you so well. “We have the whole afternoon, don’t we?”

“That, we do.” He grins, squeezing your hand.

“Mr. Moon, who’s that?” a small voice asks closer to the ground. The two of you turn to see Sunwoo and Eric trotting over, curious looks on their faces.

Kevin looks over at you, but you’re already bending down to get to eye level with the two boys. “Oh, hello!” Your grin, if possible, grows wider. “I’m Y/N, Kevin’s significant other. What are your names?”

“I’m Eric,” Eric pipes up. “This is my brother, Sunwoo.”

Sunwoo just stares with round eyes. Well, he’s always been the shyer of the two.

“Those are lovely names,” you reply smoothly, giving Sunwoo an encouraging smile. Kevin feels his heart melt completely at how well you interact with the kids. “I’m just going to be waiting with Kevin until your uncle picks you up, is that okay?”

The two kids nod and immediately go back to babbling in their own little world. Kevin notices the fond smile on your face, and his heart melts even more.

“They’re so cute,” you whisper to him.

“I know, right?” Kevin clutches his heart dramatically. “Can you imagine teaching them every day?”

Just as you’re shaking your head in comic disbelief, another car pulls up behind yours. A harried-looking young man quickly exits and Eric and Sunwoo cheer, distracted by the arrival of their uncle.

“Sorry about this,” Sangyeon says, absentmindedly patting Eric’s head as the boy hugs his leg. Sunwoo seems to be attempting to climb onto his uncle’s back. “Traffic wasn’t the kindest when I was getting out of work.” Then he notices you. “Oh, hello. Are you Kevin’s partner?”

“That I am.” You stick out a hand. “I’m Y/N, and I’ve been told you’re Sangyeon?”

Sangyeon nods, smiling. “Nice to meet you. And to see that Kevin’s found someone to deal with his antics.”

Kevin blushes as you laugh. “Hey,” he complains. “No jokes at my expense, please.”

“Sure, moonbeams.” You roll your eyes, then turn back to Sangyeon. “It’s nice to meet you. Your nephews are adorable.”

The smile that Sangyeon gives the two boys clambering around him says it all. “They are, aren’t they?” He checks his watch. “I’m sorry, I have to go now. My sister’s expecting us back soon, and I’m already a bit late.”

Kevin breathes a sigh of relief. No more teasing at his expense from Sangyeon, at least, though there’s no guarantee from you. “Nice seeing you, Sangyeon. And have a good day, kids.”

A small chorus of “You too, Mr. Moon!” sounds, and Kevin expects that to be the end. Sangyeon will herd the boys into the car, Kevin will follow you into yours, and then you’ll go your separate ways. What he doesn’t expect is for Sunwoo to look out at you from behind his uncle’s leg, round eyes cautiously curious, and ask you a question.

“Y/N?”

Immediately, you turn around, teasing smirk melting into a gentle smile for the small boy. “Yes, Sunwoo?”

Sunwoo’s eyes dart between you and Kevin. Then, softly, shyly – “Do you love Mr. Moon?”

Time seems to stop as Kevin’s breath hitches in his throat at the sudden question, but you only look back at him, eyes soft and sparkling in the sunlight.

Your answer glitters in your gaze.

Though you’re supposed to be talking to Sunwoo, your eyes stay fixed on Kevin, strong and unyielding, yet gentle and affectionate, as you answer. Your voice is soft when you reply. “Yes, Sunwoo. I do love him.” The smile on your face grows wider as you turn back to the child. “I love him very much.”

Indescribable warmth floods Kevin’s chest and tears prick his eyes. And as Sangyeon hurries his nephews away, as you turn around to unlock your car, one truth burns with absolute, crystal-clear certainty in his mind.

He isn’t falling in love with you, not anymore. No, he’s far past that stage.

Kevin Moon is completely, wholly, irrevocably in love with you.

“Kevin?” You look at him from the other side of the car. “You coming?”

A wide grin spreads across his face as he meets your sparkling eyes. Love blooms in his chest.

“Coming, sunshine.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for kevin’s whipped ass ksjdkgsdhjk)

211 notes · View notes

jiminrings · 4 years ago

Note

Okay I just wanna say that I really love your writing!!! Hope you and chimmy are doing well! Can I request a drabble with merman tae and y/n's a human and they're childhood besties and tae likes her but she's a dumb little bean. I just realised how many 'ands' are in that sentence. If you don't like it then...ahem know that I still love you!!! 💖💖💖

pearl of mine

pairing: taehyung x y/n

wordcount: 5k

glimpse: merman!tae is the reason why tourists can’t find any more shells and pearls in the shore, y/n owns more beach houses than deduction skills, and concierge!yoongi’s the hero :D // gif from pinterest

notes: are u kidding me baby i love it AND you!!!! chimmy barks his regards <3

“hmm? where’s barnacle boy?”

alright there goes your peace and quiet

it’s very nice to know that where yoongi is, translates to meaning that all your peaceful thoughts automatically aren’t there

if he’s not manning the concierge, it means he’s there keeping you company!!

annoying you

your ten minutes of bliss of just having your calves dipped into the water is interrupted now but it’s ok!!

after all, yoongi’s ur right-hand man anyways!! he’s the one who keeps track of everything and you’re so close to convicing your dad to put him in the family will too

you can’t manage your family business all by yourself!! how exactly are you gonna manage fIVE of the hotels that your parents have put under your care by yourself

five of the seventeen hotels that your family owns..,.,.,

（；＿；）

your dad gives you tOO much trust and he believes in you like actually a lot

a lot more than you could ever trust yourself tbh

he doesn’t want you to take charge only when he retires or dies!! you’re his little dove and he wants you to be as immersed in your family’s group of companies

it’s generous but of course it’s hectic

which is why you’re spearheading the handling of the actual main hotel he’s put under you!!

and the rest of the less major ones, you’ve had to go through a long and tedious process for so you could find an actual trustable manager and supervisor that wouldn’t commit embezzlement and-

yoongi’s about to scare you again by nudging your lower back with his foot, but you’re ahead of him when you nip his ankle with your nails

“... it’s mermaid man.”

he scoffs out a laugh because what was supposed to be a teasing nudge for your friend that’s clearly nOT human, turned to your joke instead of his

he doesn’t need to look at his watch to know what time it was by then bc he’s practically memorized the skies and the tide at this point

every 5:20 in the afternoon, you and taehyung would meet here!!

you come outside at exactly 4:50 to give yourself some leeway into preparing whatever you’d be giving him or rather, pestering yoongi what you think you should give him for that afternoon

it doesn’t necessarily have to be grand! on most days you just make him waffles without the crusty edges (he likes it the most when it’s so hot that it was still soft and jiggly) and the filling would be whatever food he hasn’t tried yet

.... basically.......... almost everything

but now it’s 5:23 and he could tell with how the water didn’t settle to the wooden platform as well as it did when it was 5:20

yoongi could actually TELL the difference because he’s seen you do this for the four years he’s been working here

the hotel had three wings — the shore wing, the balcony-sturdy-treehouse-type of wing, and the cabana wing

you bounce all around the place because naturally, you aRE the boss here, but afternoons really were just reserved for the cabana wing

where there’s a staff cabana by one of the wooden paths that lead to it, and one specifically reserved for you and probably yoongi now lmao bc he wouldn’t take a nap anywhere else

it’s you just sitting by the deck of your cabana that houses your too-expensive waffle maker, and a cozy blanket then deck pillows outside where you lay when taehyung’s there perched by the wood

you easily have three plates always, and yoongi just goes a lil bit soft that you let him intrude your routine with the merman

but today, all that highLy seems unlikely

“he’s totally not coming,” he exaggerates all in one breath, not having the decency to wait bc he’s stuffing his cheeks full with waffles

everything’s a hit or miss with mermaid man anyways and yoongi would rather nOT try his adventures of waffles with buttered rice in between no thank u

so that’s why he’s sticking with his trusty s’mores waffle!!! :D

put chocolate spread in between while it’s STILL in the pan, then tiny little marshmallows with crushed graham crackers and 10/10 u will see heaven

he gets crumbs on your sundress and you barely even grimace because you’re used to yoongi and all his yoongi-ness at this point

“yes he is! we’ve been doing this everyday without fail for like, twelve years already.”

you know what.,.,., maybe even longer than twelve years

this one’s marked on your calendar you can just SNIFF it

what you distinctly remember is your dad picking you up from school then suddenly deciding that he’ll teach you the ropes

you knew what everything was coming to because suddenly, you’d take your daily after-school snacks at the hotel

and then your weekends were slowly merging into memorizing names and amenities

... and then sitting by your dad’s chair with a juicebox when he had meetings

then before you even realize, you’re managing five hotels under your name and a particularly large one mainly

it was when you’ve had a suckish day at school because you cannot seem to just gET the multiplication table of 7 and your dad’s chasing after you again so you could get to see the fire escape plans as “fun little puzzles!!”

ya know what maybe you should go outside

it didn’t exactly click into your young mind that holy shit your family’s LOADED

all you knew was that people greeted you left and right even if you didn’t know them and you’d always be offered stuff you didn’t even ask for :D

all you cared about was skipping by the cabanas but holding by the rope on the side bc what if you fell lmao

yet what did fall to the water beside you was your bracelet!!!

:((

a red, single-threaded, string bracelet from your wrist that must’ve gotten loose

it’s something you’ve never took off and the sheer panic in your mind was tOO HIGH

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

even before you could call out to your dad though, or any of the staff that would literally drop everything to help you, something just shifts in the water

it’s too quick for you to even decipher and the multiplication table of 7 would’ve been easier to figure out

the moment you crouch by the end of the deck was when you see it aGAIN

there’s this incredibly pretty boy that emerges from the water, only his shoulders up to his head peeking out

he most certainly didn’t look... from around here tho

your attention’s immediately fixated on your bracelet, the one on his mouth as he only tilts his head when you do the same, an eager squeal breaking him out

hold on

wait a second

you’ve seen this in the tv sometimes!!! they were uh creatures that liked being by themselves in the sea

lol which is basically every sea creature

but the narrator said something about them looking like humans???

AND BESIDES

you overhear your dad talking about them sometimes

AND THEN IT HITS

THE HANDSOME FACE!! THE SHINY PRETTY-

up and age???

opened etch????

how do u spell that again

THE TAIL!!! THE PRETTY TAIL LOOKING LIKE THING!!!

“o-oh!! you’re-...”

“t-taehyung...?”

the boy who looks like your age replies, looking unsure of himself yet didn’t want to disappoint you either

you meant merman but it’s okay!!

your hands retrieve the bracelet from his mouth, a little giggle at the complexity of the situation

he was completely sold at that

this was his first human!!! his first actual human interaction and it wasn’t really bad as what his brothers painted out to be

you and taehyung took off from then and ya know what,,, maybe you even start purposefully dropping things in the water if you feel a little impatient that he hasn’t peeked his head yet

and yes yes that’s a completely iRRESPONSIBLE thing and your dad stopped you before you could possibly throw out a whole backpack into the water

which was weird for him to look at because there’s absolutely no one he could see in the water

it was a routine that not one of you ever skipped on once!!

even if you were sick and tae thinks that it’s the most pathetic thing because he doesn’t EVER get sick??? sue him for having a cold because he’s in the water 24/7 yea

even if one was late and wouldn’t be able to see the other, there would be an item placed by the deck as proof that they were indeed there!!

tae sometimes leaves a random conch shell or even seaweed in the shape of a heart when he’s swamped with his arrangements

even if there’s a storm, which taehyung absolutely loves because the water’s all cold!!! and it gives him a fun little ride when the waves are all wonky

you leave out a lunchbox that’s snug in a fixed mailbox (you forced yoongi to attach it) by the side of the deck poles and that would count as your attendance

“yes he is! we’ve been doing this everyday without fail for like, twelve years already.”

you are totally UNBELIEVABLE

yoongi snorts, almost choking on his waffles with how hard he did it

“and you’re twelve years dumb.”

ok now you take offense

huh???

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

you can’t be any more clueless, can you??

as if on cue, there’s the familar flop and splash that you nudge yoongi to be in his best behavior

taehyung makes his afternoon appearance by outlandishly doing his trick in the air, undoubtedly giving you a splash you’re used to by now

he literally does not care at the thought of anyone possible seeing him

besides, they physically can’t anyway because there’s a spell cast onto the area, allowing nobody to see them besides you

... and yoongi ://

he’s rather grand with his gestures and his words and even before taehyung knew the common lingo on ground, you could tell he was a little more stubborn with his strong expressions

after all, taehyung’s a prince at sea but at land.,.,.,.

<3 well <3

“i’m here!”

taehyung bEAMS radiantly, making you crouch and hold out your hands, him putting his face out immediately for you to squish

“oh, oh! i got you something, y/n!”

he seems to remember out of the blue in the middle of chewing his waffles, yoongi having to suppress another sigh

the prettiest pearl necklace :-)

“tae i already told you that-...”

you’re about to start berating him again with the gifts because what seemed to be so ordinary for him is very fAR from yours

you pout and tae only pushes the necklce to you further, not taking no for answer when he had to squint his eyes extra hard to look for the pearls this morning

to be honest you have sO much jewelry from taehyung

the common theme of it was of course they’re something you could get at sEA

and whenever people ask you about them, u have no idea how to tell where you got them

today’s pearl necklace was a little different — something more dainty and smaller and wraps around your neck like a choker would, a little more suited for everyday wear

“thank you!!!”

you smooch taehyung on the cheek extra quick and it takes every fiber in his tail to stop squealing

yoongi watches you two be disgustingly sweet and PLATONIC yet again, and he could only zero in on the pearl necklace around your neck

that is the fifth time this week

that is the fifth set of pearls you’ve gotten this week

normally you’d get a pearl every now and then and the often minuature sand sculptures

but this week changes the wHOLE ball game

“do you want a pearl ring?”

taehyung wiggles his eyebrows, boxy smile on full display and he looks breathtaking in the golden hours that you immediately poke his cheek

yoongi’s eyes widen because that’s literally-

you don’t seem to find the weight on his question because you only let out a non-commital sound and whisk him away on another conversation about his day

he’s long since dropped out of yours and taehyung’s conversation, going back to the concierge because his presence is required

and he still can’t shake off how CLUELESS you are

it’s when the night gets a little more chilly and you could see taehyung go beneath the water more often, taking it as a sign that he’s going back and his brothers are looking for him

“night-night, tae.”

you offer the top of his head a kiss, rushing back to the cabana to put on your coat and right on time, you miss the way taehyung’s eyes are bigger than a goldfish’s

(@_@)

oh my god

oh my fucking god

taehyung really hATES you

he hates you so much!!!!

SO SO MUCH

he resigns back into the water and he doesn’t even move at all

just defeatedly sits on the seabed and his aura effectively puts off everything around him

his heart’s beyond heavy and his eyes sting and he never wants to resurface ever again

he’s trying not to get upset too much because his emotions have the capacity of changing the tide and it would literally resonate through the seas if he gets even more sad

taehyung’s trying to rEPRESS everything back in but it’s no use :((

“hey, hey, calm down. what’s wrong?”

his brother immediately swims to his side at the first slight tremor he felt, having only little trouble in locating him

“i-i asked y/n if she wanted a pearl-...” tae stutters and he has to physically hold his chest to not sOB at your name, an insurmountable feeling of dread at his chest

yeah, you! namjoon knows you

in fact all his brothers know you and you’ve met each other multiple times, but not as often as you and tae did

they don’t need to see you everyday to know that taehyung is head over tails in LOVE with you

the mention of you and their brother’s gifts in the same sentence isn’t anything new

“okay? but you give her pearls all the time? and-”

“... ring.”

pearl ring

“yeah? and what did she say?”

joon himself tries to quell the distress he feels because taehyung’s emotions are morE than potent to affect to everyone, most especially his brothers

he sees the others swimming to them from afar, worried frowns already on their faces and namjoon doesn’t want to panic even more

“nothing!! she said nOTHING!!!!”

jungkook tilts his head, cheeks puffed out as he tries to diffuse the situation

“but tae, it could mean-...”

“nothing. y/n absolutely wants nothing to do with me!”

taehyung half-huffs and half-sobs, immediately swimming past them that leaves them confused and with a headache

this was definitely going to be a problem

it already is

today has got to be the slowest day ever

the water is so still and timid

oh my god it literally just looks like tap water in a bathtub that’s untouched

you’ve noticed in the first thing in the morning

was it nORMAL to have the water so still???? practically no waves at all??? not even ripples????

you must be losing your mind right

you dragged yoongi from the concierge desk all the way outside

he squints his eyes because the water.... is definitely not supposed to be this way....

“huh. now that’s just odd.”

some of your patrons don’t seem to mind at all because that just means they could go take their pictures without waves putting their phones at risk

but nO

most especially the swimmers n the surfers and even the lifeguard are all ????

everyone’s collectively looking at the water

yoongi takes a twig and just pokes at it to go do ATLEAST something, but even the ripples it produces are mundane

the water is too still and it makes you miss the one who makes it all better

you spend the better part of your whole day in your sundress and hanging around the cabana, yoongi scrunching his nose up at the fact that he seemed to be more active than the actual hotelier here today

“taehyung doesn’t go up for another seven hours, y’know?”

he finds you sitting by the edge of the deck, feet vigorously splashing around the water without any resistance at all that it feels so unnerving

“yea i know that... just wanted to hang out with him.”

you murmur out the last part, making yoongs do a double-take at his boss who was never this soft-spoken

“and that’s what you’ve been doing ever since childhood? sit by the edge then hang out?”

he wants to push a couple of buttons to get you out of your phase of the day today, but he only gets some insistent nodding and nothing more

“that’s so mundane. that’s literally a decade-long routine!!”

“it’s a routine i don’t mind!!”

and that’s true

it’s a routine you want to do with the rest of your life because it now feels like the equivalent of showering basically

you feel so incomplete without it and satisfaction doesn’t settle on your bones until you do it with taehyung :D

“surely, there must be sOME reason for taehyung to not get bored from doing the same thing with you, right?”

alright one more nudge

you’re considerably more perky now that’s for sure

but that doesn’t mean any less clueless unfortunately

“must be the food!!”

oh my god,,,,,, u are so dumb

he leaves you alone and you don’t even question it because you’re too busy waiting for taehyung

you expect the tide to change when it’s already noon but really, nothing happens still

5:20 passes and he still isn’t there

it’s time for dinner and yoongi has to fetch you aLL the way from the other side of the wings he needed to supervised because you’re spending all your time waiting

you were supposed to have dinner with staff tonight but you don’t even think twice in telling him to go eat without you, giving the company card more than eagerly

“don’t you think it’s time to go home?”

yoongi pipes up when they’ve finished dinner and you’re still there

he feels so sorry for you :((

“w-what if he shows up last minute?”

there’s still hope in your voice and he doesn’t want to taint it as much as people

“hey. they need sleep too. you should go get some for yourself too, okay? now just leave a cookie or something,” he has to pry you off the deck himself, not wanting to feel any more sorry for you because you’re starting to tremble with how chilly the air is

taehyung doesn’t resurface the next day

or the next

and the day after that

taehyung doesn’t show up the entire week.

you’re worried OUT of your mind and you’re tempted to just take your dad’s yacht and sail across the water to try and look for him

or oR maybe you should get one of the divers to try and look for him!!!! but no that wouldn’t work, would it??

how about you go and look for tae yourself???

yoongi’s been busy with the hotel bc the actual hotelier of it (read: you) is too busy MOPING

you’ve ditched your sundresses and waited in hoodies and sweatpants you could roll up in the morning and roll down at night to wait for him

most people don’t even recognize you as the owner and they just walk rIGHT past you when they see you in the hallways

you’ve also been stress-making waffles that you reek of the batter and butter, the staff now having an abundance of experimental ones that you’ve made

you’re definitely not okay

“uh y/n you really rEALLY need to go to sleep.,.,”

yoongi gapes at you when he visits you at the cabana, clearing his schedule out to go watch over you and bc your dad won’t sit still with how unkempt you’ve been

he gestures to the hammock you’ve always begged him to put up, but his handiwork’s wASTED because you don’t even spend more than five seconds looking at it

you should be screaming with glee by now :((

how in the world could he possibly distract you from crushing sadness and worry

he’s been brainstorming the past week and his head’s even more hollow than the decorative coconuts in the gift shop

... wait a minute

hey this has got to be his most stupid idea but the one with the most promising results!!!!!

11/10 risky but it’s the cLOSEST he could get!!

“hey do you wanna do something stupid??”

your eyes glance at him immediately because it’s the first question he’s ever asked you besides if you’re okay or when was the last time you slept or when do you intend on picking yourself up

yoongi fishes for his tablet and whips up a video immediately, only taking minutes for him to explain and seconds for you to agree

it’s what made you end up this way

it’s the reason in your swimsuit with your legs all the way inside a duvet cover and the corners of it knotted tightly on your waist

you don’t know how yoongi’s managed to convince you to race him in swimming with your whole lower body inside a king-sized dUVET cover from one of the cabanas whose guests are arriving in an hour, but here you are lmao

“first one to the furthest cabana wins, alright?”

he practically yelps in explaining in an effort to hype you up and a hundred dollars dOES seem to make him excited himself

you’re buzzing for the first time in the week and it’s the panicked shoves you try to give each other before starting that kicks you off in an eager mood

“GO!”

you immediately dive in and you don’t expect the heaviness of your makeshift tail behind you, momentarily cussing yourself because wHY on earth did you get the high-quality ones smh ://

oh my god this is so fucking stupid and oddly enough, you’re ENJOYING it

you can’t exactly paddle your legs fluidly like the times when they aren’t wrapped in a duvet, and the distance of the last cabana seems so tiring now that u think about it

yoongi’s already ahead and you don’t get HOW has he managed to come that far???

also not to mention that the gap between the two of you is large and now you’re just struggling to even move

also doesn’t help oNE bit with how good of a handyman yoongi also is because that is one secure knot you got there sir

it’s only dawning in you that you’re NOT well-versed in swimming!!

not even close to an expert!!! all you know are the basics

but the basics seem hard to even apply when you’re dragging a king-sized duvet cover by your legs

you’d expect more skills from someone whose family owns water-centric properties bUT NO <3

you’re flailing almost to the bottom and your eyes sting then your limbs feel heavy

you’re not necessarily drowning either, it just feels so difficult to swim back up

you’re about to try again and boost yourself up by pushing from the floor but then suddenly you’re being HAULED BACK UP

you have no chance to even try and get away because you know that the hand around your waist aren’t yoongi’s

“are you out of your goddamn mind???”

you instinctively take a big gulp of air when you come up the surface, legs fluttering now that you have some type of support to keep you up

“why would you do this?? who did this??”

the deep voice only registers in you seconds later that it’s taehyung who’s in front of you and holding you up, staring you down intensely

your puzzlement only frustrates him even more, going back down while keeping his hands on your waist before he untangles the duvet cover by your legs rather quickly and powerfully

he emerges back up and he’s looking at you with sO much stress that you wanna dive back down

“y-yoo-...”

you don’t even manage to finish speaking before taehyung snaps his gaze away from you and really yELLS

“YOONGI!!!”

as if he didn’t manage to startle you enough, he looks back at you and pats at you all over out of instinct, wanting to know if you’re hurt by any means

you’re more shocked but it’s over the fact that you’re finally seeing him again

this isn’t the first time you’ve swam with taehyung but this IS the first time in this context

you’ve never been this close to him either and you’re out of breath just by looking at him

he doesn’t seem to share the sentiment though because he looks like he’s gonna pull his hair out in both relief and frustration

“oh my god! i fucking thought that my soulmate would die in a — i-in a bedsheet!”

you are so ridiculous that it actually makes his heart clench

he intentionally didn’t come to see you for a week because he was so hurt over your rejection

he did see you from a distance and he also has a particular someone to watch over you, but he never imagined that you’d be doing THIS

his heart just minutes ago was beating against his ribcage because his soulmate was in danger!!! he physically and literally cannot drown but that’s what it felt like

“i’m your soulmate?”

your breathless gasp explains it all

oh so...

oh my god how could you have nOT known this all along???

HOW COULD YOU BE SO OBLIVIOUS

taehyung probably acted this way and most especially that way when he ignored you!!!

you vaguely remember yoongi telling you that pearls PROBABLY mean a lot to taehyung even if the tone he’s used on you is beyond certain

the pearl ring was meant for courting!!!

that explains why yoongi gasped and looked at you inrcredulously!!!!

no he’s been courting you ALL this time

you are so..... insuffeable

“i’m so sorry!!”

you’ve crammed in twelve years of experience into two minutes of critical thinking, throwing your arms around taehyung and burying your face into his neck

he grunts a bit at that but he’s not complaining at all

“you mUST hate me,” you frown and the need to cry overpowers you, taehyung sensing it again which is why he immediately strokes your nape in comfort

“i could never.”

the waves come back and even if they’re present, the water was calming

you’re too entranced with tae and your realizations to even notice that the water felt so much better compared to when it was dead still

it’s when you hear a familiar set of giggles that you sNAP your head in anger

yOONGI????

yoongi’s much more near you now, floating and floating until you make the move to look down and see not a duvet cover, but rather a tangerine-colored tail by him

all you’ve been doing this day is squeaking

tae, although still a lil bit mad at yoongi because he’s endangered you, smiles at his informant who’s helped make him last through the week

“half-merman!! i’m sorry if i didn’t tell you sooner, y/n. but since tae’s full, that’s the reason he could only come on land once a month! and since i’m half, i could only come underwater once a month!!”

he grins at his explanation he’s been trying to piece together for the last couple of months

ok maybe years

it probably explained to why it’s no accident that he’s clicked with you instantly and he trusts you with his whole life!! you were truly a gentle human that’s an all-rounder

also explains to why yoongi wasn’t all THAT shocked when you brought him out one day on his first year of working and pleaded taehyung to rise up with only even his eyes blinking up at him

no wonder tae warmed up to yoongi quick even if he did say he had distrust with majority of humans!!

how could you not doubt for one second that it’s the reason why he’s always been really good at swimming too and holding his breath

yoongi chose his day of the month to be today because you were so down in the dumps, and aLSO for the reasoning that he missed the boys so that’s why he’s going down there in a heartbeat

taehyung pinches at your thigh, a bright grin on your face when you come face to face with him after waving yoongi goodbye

“are you gonna make me wait another twelve years more?”

he pecks your cheek and it doesn’t feel platonic anymore, a giddy smile in realization that you’ve finally come to your senses

“would you mind?”

://

the teasing lilt in your voice doesn’t seem to go anywhere anytime soon hee-hee

“maybe a little but-“

“no more waiting.”

you kiss taehyung and almost launch yourself at him, savoring the taste of him on your tongue that he has to grip your thighs around his waist a little tighter

yeah ur a little slow but ur spirits are high!! you’re on the right direction!!

you’re definitely worth waiting for

and panicking over

and courting

and loving

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cdroloisms · 4 years ago

Note

Do you think c! Quackity are skilled on the mastering of "necessary convincing" on a person? And man the stream yesterday was so intense dark theme.

hello !

this is testament of how behind i am in asks, haha, considering this was sent basically at the beginning of q’s visits and it’s been ,, uh ,, several months since then ASJKFLJAS - but im going to try to answer it now while pretending that we dont have months proving that c!quackity is very willing to do whatever the hell it takes to get the revive book from someone.

i think that the ,, technicalities? of the torture were never an issue - everyone in the dream smp universe has to know how to use a weapon in its most basic form, after all, just to defend themselves from mobs and stuff, tho some people are clearly more adept at using them than others. torture is ultimately just hurting someone until they do what you want them to do (way oversimplified, but this definition works here) - physically, if you’re able to kill a zombie, there’s functionally little different with inflicting harm on a defenseless unarmed human with no means of defending themselves.

the real challenge, as with most things in the minecraft roleplay, comes from the mental side - how far is c!quackity really willing to go? obviously he *can* hurt someone, but doing so also tends to go against a lot of our most basic instincts as humans. defying that becomes the real question to consider - and c!quackity, in his increased willingness to hurt not only c!dream, but everyone as he’s manipulated people more and used people more for his own gain in the last few months, seems to providing as much of an answer as we’re going to get.

this obviously isnt to say that he isn’t conflicted, or that he’s pure evil !! but c!quackity, by his own admission, seems to hold little trust for other people and ideals anymore. his main goal is Las Nevadas and whatever he needs to make it great - anything and everything else is either a means to his end or an obstacle in his way. i dont doubt that there are chinks to this mindset to exploit, things that he cares about enough to take his single-minded focus off of Las Nevadas. as of now, though, i don’t think that torturing c!dream and the violence it’ll require of him will be that breaking point.

anyway, have a really dark snippet exploring c!quackity some more !! he’s really fun to write, though i don’t think i’ve really mastered his voice yet - practice makes perfect, i guess. heed the warnings and hope you enjoy!

tw: torture, abuse, blood, injuries, branding, violence, death mention, abuse apologism, mental deterioration, dark content, dark imagery, very dark portrayal of c!quackity, pandora’s vault/prison arc

There’s a certain learning curve that comes with torturing someone.

It sounds obvious, thinking back, as much as it sounds morbid as all hell, but it’s not like he’s in any position to judge. Quackity swipes another stack of iron from a chest, momentarily grumbling about the cost, before melting down three ingots for the blade of his next axe. He could just do it in a crafting table, but there’s a degree of calm in the monotony of doing it all by hand, slowly watching as the iron begins to glow red hot in the heat of the furnace and then hammering it into shape on his anvil. He hadn’t been good at it before, had let Sapnap do the majority of the smithing for the three of them in the past, but. Well.

When you’re eating through several sets of iron tools a week, either from bending them out of shape against unforgiving obsidian or melting the blades past saving in lava or burning them all entirely, when he’s too tired to be bothered cleaning off the blood and simply chucks the used tools after a session into the molten rock outside the cell, you kind of have to figure out how to make your own shit so others don’t get suspicious.

He beats the metal into a block, humming softly over the clangs of his hammer. There’s definitely a learning curve to crafting weapons, too - he’s pretty proud of the ones that he can make, now, even though he’s still no good at any of the fancier furnishings and finishes (nor does he particularly care about them). Figuring out how to torture someone effectively was a similarly slow process - finding their limits and how far to push before something, inevitably, gives. He hadn’t exactly handled it the best in the first few visits, usually retching into the nearest wastebasket at the smell, at the feeling of blood coating his fingertips, at the screams ringing incessantly in his head. It wasn’t all that long before he forwent sleep altogether, devoting all of his time on paperwork and calls and anything that would deafen the cries that would’ve haunted him otherwise. He was no good with his tools, either - more than a few times, in those early visits, did he end up slicing too deep or going too far and needing to cut the session short for Sam to come in and administer health pots before Dream died and rendered all of their efforts useless.

(Sapnap had been the one to first teach him how to wield an axe, correcting his stance and his grip with gentle, calloused hands. He remembers them training on the newly laid dirt surface of Mexican L’manburg, sweat dripping down his neck from the sun beating against their heavy armor, Sap laughing at his unbalanced, heavy-armed swings and demonstrating with his own weapon, movements fluid and graceful as if it was an extension of his own arm. In the cell, he thinks of Sapnap’s voice, firm in his focus - feet at least shoulder width apart, hands braced on the axe handle, left sitting just above the end and the right just a few inches below the head - and swings.)

It had been...a process. A bloody, often painful process - his hands are calloused, now, in ways they never were before, from the constant handling of his many tools. His back aches constantly from bending over, and his shirt - more often splattered with blood than not - now bears some permanent pink stains that he can’t get out no matter how hard he tries. (The laundry, he thinks wryly, had been a hell of a learning process as well.) He picks up the metal with a pair of tongs, easing it back under the fire’s heat until it glows a soft pink, and then places it back onto the anvil to work - slowly beating the metal into shape.

He’s had to learn a lot. The lessons are fascinating, in a gruesome, morbid sort of way. He’d brought a brand the other day, painstakingly carved into a fancy, curlicued Q all on his own, used in his work at Las Nevadas originally to finish furnishing a few pieces of leather furniture he had scattered around the city. As Dream struggled under him, skin blackening under the white-hot metal, he’d immersed himself in the sight, far more similar to his past leatherwork than he might’ve originally expected. He almost wanted to do it again, just to compare, but the stress of it all had been enough to knock the prisoner into shock, which had put a significant damper on the rest of his visit. He watches the iron glow contemplatively from his anvil, not nearly as hot as he works at it.

Another dip in the furnace later, it’s heated just enough to work out the finishings, and he carefully knocks the ends into a blade. Picking it up with a pair of tongs, he holds it up to a nearby piece of glowstone, grinning at the finished axe head. There’s still quite a bit to do, technically - he still needs to sharpen it along with the other ones he’s finished, as well as fasten them to their handles, but even so - it looks good. He examines it, back and front, against the light. It’s probably his best one yet.

Quackity smiles to himself as he puts it down with the rest, pulling out his calendar from behind him and carefully marking another red X over the date. Learning to torture someone takes a hell of a lot of time, but. Well.

He has all the time in the world.

#tw torture #tw abuse #tw blood #tw death #tw injury #tw violence #tw branding #tw abuse apologism #tw mental deterioration #tw dark content #tw dark imagery #c!quackity critical #not really but i digress #prison arc #pandora's vault #-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !!#-> my asks

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creamypudding · 3 years ago

Text

Story Preview

As I’m plugging through the second draft of my Zakkura omegaverse/werewolf story I thought I might drop the first chapter as it stands right now. The story itself will contain a lot of smut. A lot of monster fucking. And... you know... some compelling character exploration and growth. Future story tags will include, but are not limited to: omegaverse, werewolf, monster fucking, non-con, past physical/emotional/sexual/child abuse, character death, violence, secrets, heat, bucket loads of cum, breeding kink, sex toys, horror elements, swearing The tags don’t adequately describe how delightfully self-indulgent an depraved this story gets. And looking at the things I have tagged for makes me feel that somewhere along my writing journey I took a sharp turn down a dark alley that’s leading to an even darker basement. 😂 The chapter is under the cut. It is rated M and is 7000-ish words long. Tags for this would be mild horror elements.

I’d love to hear what people think and if anyone would be interested in reading more chapters. I will take silence as a vote for ‘no thank you, keep your depraved shit to yourself.’

Chapter 1 - Homecoming

Discomfort and irritability have been building over the last few days. It is the price he is willing to pay to save a couple of bucks. 4 days of cruising between pill packets before he would break open the next blister pack on day 5 and then the whole 28 day cycle would start over again. It’s what Cloud’s been doing for the past 5 years.

Yes, there had been mishaps at first while his body adjusted to the medication and while he figured out where the sweet spot lay where he could avoid or interrupt his heat before it blew out of control. 4 days off the medication. That’s his Goldilocks zone. It’s now day 4. He’s been feeling… not good. His ass is uncomfortable, so he went to take a pill only to find all the blister packets empty. Cold dread had washed through him. Not that it did anything to douse the growing warmth in his body.

He’s still clutching the empty packet as he makes call after call, trying to book in with a physician who might see him and prescribe pentaprox to him. He’s not getting any luck with anyone.

Cloud shakes and crushes the box with the empty blister packets inside with a mildly satisfying crunch. It’s not the packet’s fault that he doesn't discard the old blister packs. Not its fault that he thought he had more medicine available to him than he actually had. It pisses him off all the more and he throws the packet toward the kitchen as he gets another disappointing response to his inquiries.

Cloud paces his small one-bedroom apartment’s open living area, thinking what he could do. His heat will be here soon. He screams, grabs a cushion, and hurls it at the wall near the front door. It smacks into the calendar, and both items fall to the ground.

Extra annoyed, Cloud stomps over, chucks the cushion back onto the couch and picks up the calendar. He pushes the nail which holds up the calendar back into place and straightens it up. The picturesque mountainscape cools him down just a fraction. He looks at the various circled dates and notes scribbled on his calendar. A special green mark indicates he needs to refill his prescription. Cloud rolls his eyes.

Too little too late. He’s at a loss for what to do or how to handle himself now.

He’s still staring at the picture on the calendar. He could try that. Could try going home, but without visiting home. Just pass on by and hope no one notices him driving past. Why would anyone notice? Cars drive down the road all the time. His car is nothing special and no one will know it’s him. He’s not been back there in 9 years. He’d virtually be a stranger.

It’s an option. An option that’s also deeply unpleasant if it doesn't go right.

Cloud’s eyes drift down to the future date with his good friend Tifa marked on the calendar. That makes him think of something else. She’s always been helpful. She’s given him her medication in the past. Hope returns.

He calls her.

“Hello, Cloud. So nice of you to call. How are you?”

“Hi, Tif. Everything's fine but… I think I need your help.”

“What's up? You sound tense.”

“I messed up. I've run out of pentaprox.”

“Oh, hon. Can't you go see Dr. Scantling? I'm sure she would squeeze you in if you let her know it's urgent.”

Cloud sighs. “That’s the problem. I thought I could book in and see her while I was cruising between pill packets, but she's out of town and won't be back for another two weeks.”

“What about the locum?”

“Apparently he can't prescribe the medication.”

“Oh no. Could you try a different doctor? I can get you some names.”

“I've already looked. All the ones close enough to get to are booked out for the week.” His lip curls and he grits his teeth. How could he have been so self-assured and stupid?

“When does your heat start?”

“Tomorrow? Or the day after? I’m not sure. But it’s soon. I’m… feeling it.” He swaps the hands holding his cell and wipes his palms on his jeans. Even with the absorption pad in his underwear he feels uncomfortably moist between his ass cheeks.

“Oh. You really didn't leave yourself with much time. I keep telling you, cruising is a bad idea if you don’t have a backup pack ready.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I thought I had another packet somewhere, or still had a sheet left inside the pack I had, but I was wrong. Do you have any? I'll pay you back when I get mine.”

“I'm sorry, I don't have any to spare, and even if I did, I was put onto a different brand and I wouldn’t feel good giving those to you.”

Cloud hums. “Why did you change brands? Was there a problem with it?”

“Well, I’ve been getting flushes and I’ve had a few bad reactions to alphas coming to the shop. My doctor said we should try a different brand with a higher dosage.”

Cloud breathes out hard. This couldn’t have come at a worse time. “What if I have like half of a pill? If you have enough, could you share them with me?”

“I'd rather not risk it. You know the side effects can be lethal if the dosage is off. I couldn't live with myself if I gave you my pills and you ended up in a coma or something.”

Ending up in a coma sounds better than the idea of going through heat. He keeps that to himself though.

His silence is noticed as Tifa says, “I'm sorry.”

“It's alright. It was a shot in the dark.”

“What will you do? Do you want to book into Petals? I can see if they have a vacancy for you.”

There is a heavy weight in his chest when he thinks about the breeding clubs. He swallows painfully against the constriction in his throat. He supposes that it is an option. An option which isn’t palatable on many different levels. “I can't afford to go there for the full four days.”

“What about during the worst of it? Just a day or two? Take the edge off.”

“Still can't afford it,” he says snappishly.

“You're not thinking of going to a cheaper one, are you?” Tifa says, in an aghast tone.

“No,” Cloud says with disgust and grimaces at the thought. “I’d rather bankrupt myself to go to Petals than go to a heat hole.” His voice shakes and he clenches his fists. Taking a deep breath, he pulls his shoulders down from around his ears and says, “I’ve sworn myself off that scene. I’ll never be desperate enough to go back.”

“It’s not about being desperate, it’s—”

“I don’t care to hear your opinion.”

Tifa huffs. “Don’t bite my head off. I’m trying to help you think of all your options.”

He’s got nothing to respond with so gets up and purposefully goes to the hallway storage cupboard and pulls out a large backpack.

“How long has it been since you last went through a heat?”

The question catches him off guard in more ways than one. It’s a relief to not know. A relief that his heat hasn’t consumed his thoughts and behaviors in so long that he needs to count back the years and really think hard.

When was the last time? He vaguely recalls his 21st birthday. “Five years, maybe?”

“That is a long time. What about sex?”

Cloud purses his lips and closes the cupboard with an audible click.

“You know I don't mean to pry—”

“I know, I know.” The roll of the eyes is unavoidable. She doesn't mean to pry but she still is. He knows it comes from a place of genuine concern for him. He's concerned too, or he'd never have called her up. “It's probably been about the same amount of time. I haven't been with anyone since I quit the club scene and got medicated.”

Thoughtful hums come through the line. “So you're possibly going to have a tougher time than normal during this heat. It’s a drawback of the medication. Do you have enough supplies? Cold compresses? Heat packs? Heat aids? Pheromone diffusers? You have access to a bath, don't you? Do you want me to come over to check on you over the next few days? If you’re missing anything I can bring you supplies form my shop.”

“No.” There is nothing for him here. Resigned to his fate, he takes the backpack to his bedroom because he’s going to have to get packing. “Don't trouble yourself. I think I'll go away for a little while.”

“Where to?”

“Back home. I think I told you how I used to swim in the lakes there when I felt sick?” The idea of freezing water, and cold mountain air actually heartens him. The discomfort of the location aside, it might not be such a bad idea after all.

Tifa sucks in a sharp breath. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

He shrugs. “The Shinra’s have moved out of town, so it should be okay. I'm thinking of avoiding the town and everyone in it. I might visit mom on my way out. It’s been years. Might as well take the opportunity to say hi.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Yeah. I am. Thanks for the chat.”

“Sorry I couldn't be of more help. If you need anything, call me.”

“I only need pills,” he fires off.

“Sorry,” she says quietly.

Cloud swaps the cell to his other hand and wedges it between his ear and shoulder while he studies his wardrobe's contents. “Sorry for being snappy.”

“It’s okay. It’s the heat.”

“Yeah.” He sighs and grumbles, pulling drawers out to gather clothes for his impromptu camping trip. “I won't have reception where I’m going, so don't freak out when I don't call you, or if you can’t reach me.”

“Is that such a good idea? To go somewhere where you can't be reached? What if you have an emergency?”

Cloud rolls his eyes. “I’ll be fine. I know the country like the back of my hand.”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“I’ll be fine.”

An unhappy sound leaves Tifa. “Heats need to be managed. You haven't had yours in five years. Your body won't be used to the sudden changes,” she nags. But then follows up in a softer tone, “Take it easy. Stay hydrated and cool, okay.”

“Yeah. I will. Thanks.” Tifa's such a mom when it comes to this stuff. It’s nice to be cared for and worried about. He smiles despite himself and crams a handful of items into the backpack. If she wasn't so thoughtful and sweet, Cloud would have never befriended her—correction: he'd never have let her befriend him.

“Get your meds when you come back.”

“Yeah. No worries. I’ve learned my lesson.”

Cloud hangs up and sighs with the world's weight on his shoulders. His wristwatch reads 12:11 PM. A frown draws his brows together. He's still got to pack. It's cutting it close if he hopes to set up camp before sundown—especially in the valley he's heading for.

Is this really such a good idea? Tifa’s nagging puts doubts in his head now. Does she have a point? Maybe? Is she being overly cautious? Yes. He may not have been camping for a long while, but he's a country boy, born and bred. That stuff doesn't leave just because he’s moved to the city.

And the heat… He's heard the stories. Everyone's heard the stories of coming off pentaprox or something equivalent without support. Whether that be medical support, or a willing alpha, or other omega's to care and assistance while the heat rages. It can't be so bad. They're just stories. After all, his body decided to go into heat spontaneously when he was 15 and that didn't kill him.

Though… it might have been better if it had.

Cloud looks through his possessions, realizing how grossly under-prepared he is for this expedition. He doesn't have a tent, or even a sleeping bag, or sleeping mats. There’s a water filtration system he needs to clean and change the filters on. He’s got tin camping utensils and cups, as well as canned food stuff. It goes some way but he knows he’ll have to head to the shops to get the remaining things he needs.

For now, he shoves the things he does have into the backpack, amongst his clothes. Though, he debates with himself how many pairs of pants he’s going to need. Is he going to wear pants? Or any clothes? He remembers feeling too hot to wear anything and spending hours in cold water. So maybe no clothes? It would lighten his load. But the idea of his ass leaking all down his legs makes him grimace.

He'll definitely wear clothes. At least pants. And that reminds him… Cloud goes to the bathroom, gets toiletries, and pulls out absorption pads in the back of the drawers. They are years old but still work just fine. He knows. He’s wearing one right now. With chagrin, he changes the one he’s got on and takes the rest with him, stuffing everything into the backpack.

How severe will his heat get? Will he feel like crawling out of his own skin? Will he throw up? He did, once. The more he thinks about it the more he hates himself for having landed in this predicament.

Cloud looks at his packed things. There's still room, which will be quickly taken up with all the extra things he’ll need to buy. He sighs with exasperation. He’s gotta get moving if he hopes to get anywhere before nightfall. The days are already short because of early spring. They’ll be even shorter in the mountains.

So he heads to the shops and buys some of the things he needs. But for some reason the main camping stuff: tent and sleeping bag, are not to be found. Correction: there are tents but they are all for large families. He only needs a single occupancy one. Carrying anything else is a waste of space. And so Cloud has a difficult choice to make. Buy a massive tent here, or head out and buy a smaller one at his destination.

Sure, he could go to another store, but he doesn’t want to waste any more time than he already has. So he settles on the idea of heading out and getting what he needs in town. But he’s no fool. He checks the stock levels on the website for the chain store, and sure enough, they have what he’s looking for in-stock. At a reduced sales price too, thanks to it being off-season in the tourist town.

It’s settled and he goes back to his car and drives off.

The two hour drive out to the country is filled with deprecating thoughts. He clearly knew he'd run out of his meds and needed a refill. It had been marked on the calendar.

Why did he forget? Yes, he's been busy at work helping his boss refurbish a fleet of vintage cars, which he’s really enjoyed and spent a lot of overtime doing. But that’s a poor excuse. He hates the omega part of his biology enough that not letting the heat happen should have been number 1 on his list of priorities.

He blames his doctor. If she wasn’t away this wouldn’t be an issue right now. He’s on day 4 of his pill cruising. He’d have gone to get a refill today and tomorrow he would have been right as rain. Even if he’d gotten a refill in another day or two he would probably be okay. A day or two of heated agitation and a leaky ass he can deal with. But the agonizing need to be filled is what he wants to avoid ever feeling again.

Going so many years without enduring heat has made his body all weak and intolerant. Cloud vaguely remembers that for a few years before he considered medical treatment as a serious solution, he rode out the heat using various methods. He cringes and pushes those thoughts out of his head. He’s not that person anymore. He’s learned. He’s forgiven himself and is a more tolerant person when it comes to alpha’s.

When it comes to himself though… Has he ever had a heat he actually enjoyed? He thought he enjoyed some, but on reflection, he really never did. He convinced himself he liked them. It was easier than seeing how much he hurt and hated. And now he’s about to go through all of it again, because of his own fucking negligence.

He hopes it'll be like riding a bike for his body. Realistically, it won't be anything like that though. His body isn't used to any of the changes. His resilience is at an all time low.

Why did he let it get to this stage? The more he thinks about his dissociative behavior toward his own biology the angrier he gets. That, in turn, makes his skin prickle and he rubs and scratches at his arm while he drives, digging and scraping fingernails along the inside of his arm.

It takes the focus away from what's really upsetting him. Catching his own action, he stops, turns the radio on louder, and grips the steering wheel harder as he races against the day to get to his destination before nightfall. ~~~

Cloud finally arrives. He stops at the intersection that leads from the freeway to town and he wrestles with himself. Does he really want to face these people? Most of them aren’t bad. A lot of them aren’t. He just doesn’t want those who sympathize with George or Shinra knowing he’s back. But what can those two men do to him now? He’s an adult. He can’t be forced into anything. Legally he can’t, anyway.

Cloud looks to the right where the road winds through fields and heads toward the mountain ranges. That’s the way he’s supposed to go. But he needs a tent. With a deep breath, he takes his foot off the break, turns the steering wheel, and makes for his hometown.

The going is slow. The road is peppered in potholes. Some are mere dents, while others are cavernous craters. This is one of the main roads in and out of town. It leads from the freeway into town, and in the other direction are the mountain ranges, which connect to other small townships and ski resorts. It can get pretty busy during the winter season, which doesn’t help the road.

Winter’s snow and sleet have eaten away at the road. Cloud knows it’ll get fixed in the summer, as it always has in the past, only to be broken again once the snow melts. It’s predictable. He should have anticipated this. Anticipated the forced slow speed eating further into his time. He’s jiggling about in his seat like he’s being put through a blender. It’s sheer misery.

Worst of all is that certain pot holes—no matter how many times they get filled in—keep coming back with absolute certainty, like they are haunting the road. Cloud comes up to one of the rare bends in the road. The trees and overgrown shrubs block the view of what’s beyond the bend, which is bad, because the mega pot hole, which Cloud has dubbed Shinra’s Asshole, practically forces him to cross onto the other side of the road to avoid breaking his car. Little Timmy is probably also waiting for him in the opposite direction. That sucker has tripped him up more times than he can recall.

He nods his head in wary greeting to Shinra’s Asshole and gets back on the right side of the road, heading into town.

When he gets there he’s hit with old feelings. Not nostalgia. It’s more of an eerie déjà vu. Nothing has changed. The lamp post by the post office is still crooked. The fire-hydrant by the grocer still has the same graffiti on it. The place also smells the same, as he gets out, wearing the one sweater he brought along, hiding himself beneath the hood.

With his head down, he goes about his business in the adventure store. He knows what he wants. It’s in stock. Good. He sees some compact floor mats that he grabs and a canteen. Unfortunately this extra time lingering in the store draws the attention of one of the shop assistants, who happens to be Jonas, a person Cloud used to go to school with. He asks too many questions about where Cloud’s been and where he’s heading, and wanting to catch up like they are old friends.

It’s mean in good faith, but all he is, is nosy.

Cloud doesn’t recognize the person at the sales counter and wishes he could have gotten to her before Jonas has ever piped up. There is nothing to be done about it. He acts as polite as possible without giving anything away, pays for his items, and leaves.

After that encounter, Cloud feels eyes on him. Maybe it’s paranoia. Maybe it’s the heat making him more perceptive to others' attention. Whether make-believe or not, he’s uncomfortable, and retreats deeper into his hood for the short duration that it takes him to get back to his car.

Once he’s managed to squeeze everything he bought into the backpack or strapped it on top of it, he gets in the car and heads back out toward the freeway exit. The going is slow. Cloud checks the rearview mirror, like he’ll be followed out of town, caught, and taken to the Shinra mansion kicking and screaming. He had nightmares of that happening. He hates that he remembers them now.

Carefully, he picks his way through the broken road. Unfortunately, the urge to get out of dodge gets him hitting some of the nasty pot holes. He hisses and winces every time it happens and prays that nothing’s broken underneath.

He could fix it if he had the tools. He didn’t think to bring any. So he hopes and prays and watches his speed and the road with greater care. He’s also watching the sun as it creeps toward the mountain range. It won’t be long now until twilight, and then a deep night.

Cloud’s former home comes into sight. Comparable to other farms around here, the brick house sits relatively close to the road, with a short driveway leading to the barren, dusty yard.

His stomach drops as he sees a person stand near the road. It’s his mother, Claudia, wearing the same floral-print dress he remembers her wearing for the majority of his life. She has a style and refuses to budge from it. It only reinforces how nothing ever changes in this place. Like it’s frozen in time.

Despite her not knowing Cloud’s car, she’ll see it’s him when he drives past. He wanted to avoid this. Wanted to only see her once he was on his way out. She hasn’t seen him in 9 years. He should stop.

As he nears the farmhouse he checks between the trees. George’s pickup isn’t there. It’s the only reason he does pull over. But he does so with grit teeth

He should have never gone into town. Jonas or someone else who might have recognized him called up his mother. Small towns and their gossip. It boils his blood and makes the growing heat inside feel all the worse.

Having put his car in park, Cloud sits there, hands on the steering wheel, looking straight ahead. How is he supposed to explain himself to her? What will she think? How had she been treated ever since he ran away? Does she begrudge him leaving? Is she mad that he never reached out to her? He had his reasons. She knows he did.

Cloud jumps at the knock on the window. He looks over, barely able to hold eye contact for more than a second, so concentrates on winding the window down.

“Cloud. Get out here, right now.” A tremble sits in her voice. Her breath is sharp.

Cloud takes a deep breath to fortify himself, swallows the lump in his throat, and pushes the door open like a heavy boulder sits behind it, holding it closed.

He feels exposed leaving the safety of his car. He still can’t look at his mother. All he sees is her dusty brown leather shoes with a floral pattern embroidered on the sides. The threads are worn and bleached of color. The hem of her dress is frayed and the dye has faded over the years.

“At last, you came back,” she says breathily.

Cloud gets yanked and stumbles right into his mothers winding arms. The grip is tight, squeezing him like she’s holding on for dear life.

Cloud stares over her shoulder with unseeing eyes. His mother's love and warmth radiates and permeates through all the years they’ve been separated. He feels like a child again. Frail. Afraid. But calmed. Secure. Safe. Relieved.

He clutches her and buries his face in the top of her shoulder. “Mom,” he sobs with the overburdened weight which still clings to him over having left her behind.

“Oh, Cloud. My baby. My boy.” She sniffles and hugs him tighter. They stay glued together until she steps back. But not very far and not out of reach. She holds Cloud by the arms, as if letting go would melt him, like a dream that fades after waking. Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. She looks him up and down with a quavering smile trembling on lips.

Cloud looks at her now. Sees her in full. The gray hairs. The extra wrinkles. The thinning skin, and bags around her eyes. Nothing changes, everything remains the same. But time ravages on, and has left its mark on his mother. Tremendous relief overtakes him that time’s marks are all that he sees. He can’t help but wonder how many of those frown lines are there because of him. How much of her youth has been bleached away all because of him?

“I’m so glad you’re back. I still have all your postcards. Did you really go to all those places?”

Does he tell her the truth about his trips to gaudy souvenir shops and hours spent online imagining where he might go instead of actually seeking out adventure? “Some of them. Others I just thought you might like.”

“I do. Oh, I do. I loved them all. I loved knowing you were alright. You are alright, aren’t you?”

He thought he was, until his heat kicked in and he had to come out here. But objectively, he probably is. “I’ve been fine. I’ve got a place, and a job, and I’m doing fine.”

“What about a girlfriend—”she adds more quietly“—or a boyfriend?” Energy returns to her. “Kids? Oh, god, don’t tell me you’ve had children that I haven’t met yet.”

Cloud chuckles and it makes his own tears fall. “No. I’ve got no one. No kids. I’m fine though. I’m doing okay.”

She sighs and a firm warm smile graces her lips. “Oh, Cloud. Look at you. You’ve grown into such a man.” She hugs him close.

Cloud doesn’t think he looks too different. Clearly not different enough to not be recognized in town. Though he supposes he’s filled out a bit more, and his haircut’s changed too. Maybe it’s the scruff around his jaw and chin? He’s been too stressed to shave.

She pulls away again, but still holds on to him. “What’s made you decide to come back now? Have you come to visit me?”

Regretfully, he shakes his head. “Passing through.”

She glances toward the car. “You’re going camping? Where at? It’s getting late. How about you come inside and stay the night? We’d love to have you stay, even for a little bit.”

The implications of the ‘we’ sends a chill down Cloud’s spine. “I… I’d rather not. I need to go so I can make it before it's completely dark.”

“So you won't stay?” Dejection collapses her face. “He’s changed, y’know? It’s been better. A lot better.”

Cloud swallows down the visceral rejection threatening to bubble up and form a scream. “It’s not that. I’m… I have somewhere I need to be.” He looks over his shoulder at the mountain range, to see the sun slipping further down.

“Can you tell me where you’re going?”

Cloud’s stomach clenches tight and feels heavy. His chest might as well have a rock sitting right on top of it. “Down to the lakes.” He gives his mother an intensely pointed look.

Her mouth drifts open. “Because of… the flutters?” she whispers in abject dread.

He gives a small, almost imperceptible nod. His gut twists into knots.

Claudia’s hazy blue-eyed gaze falls off him for the first time. She pulls her arms around herself and after a moment speaks, “Will it happen soon?”

“Tomorrow.”

She takes a deep breath and looks at him again.

“You don't have to worry about me. I’m okay. I’m doing really good with all of that. And I want to keep it that way,” he says, with emphasis.

She nods. She understands. She knows. She knows everything. Quietly, she says, “You can't go to the lakes.”

“Why not?”

“It's not our land.”

Cloud wrinkles his face with confusion. “Not our land? Since when? I swam there all the time when I was younger.”

“Well… that was… it was never our land to begin with. It belongs to the Valentine family. His nephew lives there now. You can't trespass.”

Cloud scowls. What the fuck is he supposed to do now? “Maybe if I go ask him?”

Claudia smiles bitterly. “That's a wonderful idea. But he's not here. He leaves once a month on farm business. He should be back by mid next week.”

Cloud looks around, increasingly frustrated and annoyed. “What am I supposed to do now then? I… mom. I have no other option. I’ve been on medication to help me, but my doc is away and I’m out of pills and it’s happening tomorrow. I can’t… I can’t do the other thing. I need to go to the lake.”

Claudia looks down the road toward the mountain. She then looks the other way down the empty road. “It’s a big plot of land. He probably won’t notice. If he does, maybe I can bake him some pies as an apology for letting you trespass. He’s really a nice man. He probably won’t mind if you go.”

Cloud sighs and his shoulders slump. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Well… I’ll get going then. I’ve—”

“Wait. It’s too late now.”

“I’ve got to go, ma. I can’t stay here.”

“I know.” She pulls his head down and kisses his forehead. “Just wait here a moment.” She hurries off toward the house.

Cloud waits, his gaze turned toward the road, keeping a watchful eye out for a dust cloud or any sign of a pickup coming this way. The sun is setting fast. He refuses to be here when George comes home, no matter what his mother wants him to wait for.

The longer he waits and watches, the itchier he gets to get back in his car.

His mother finally comes out, cradling an old shotgun Cloud recognizes from the mantelpiece above the fireplace.

“Take the gun,” Claudia says. “You still know how to use one, don’t you?” She holds it out to him as well as a box of ammunition.

“Yeah, of course I do. But I’m not taking a gun. What do I need a gun for?”

“Bears have moved into the hills, especially around Shinra's Pass. The lakes are fed from there. The bears come down in spring.”

“That's crazy. There're no bears here.”

“You haven't been here in a long time. I know it must'n't feel like it, but things do change. About four years ago now we lost almost all of our calves. Your pa was furious. He was going to bear trap the whole lower gully, but then that new fellow moved into old Valentine's abandoned farmhouse and said he’d put a fence up to keep the bears out. And he did, and it did. But you best take a gun with you. If not for your safety then at least do it to make me feel better about letting you go out there, trespassing and everything. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.” She begins to tut and shoves the gun against Cloud’s chest.

Frowning, Cloud takes hold of the weapon. “Are you sure it’s for bears?”

“Only for bears,” she says sternly. “He has changed. He’s given up drinking. Things are better.”

“Because I’m gone.”

“No. I mean… maybe, yes. He needed a break to see what he’d done and how he was. He misses you. He’s… sorry.”

Cloud grits his teeth. “Sorry doesn’t—” He bites his words down. This isn’t what he came here for. Not even remotely. “Alright. I’ll take the gun. For the bears,” he says with a sarcastic drawl.

“Thank you. It’ll make me feel better. Don’t forget the ammunition.” She hands that over and looks down the road with a hesitant gaze.

Her unease rubs off on Cloud. He checks the safety on the weapon and opens the back of the car, storing the gun and ammo in a safe spot. He comes back around to his mother.

“When will you be back? I have so much I want to talk to you about. Please come over before you leave. We both want to see you. After you feel… better,” she says in a thin voice and gives him a brittle smile.

He doesn’t know how he can feel so loved and yet shunned all at the same time. He knows it’s not his mother, but more George that’s causing the tension. And as much as the idea of being around here doesn't appeal to him, he still does the required mental arithmetic to figure out when his heat might end and he might come back. “Wednesday. If I’m not back by sundown the bears’ eaten me,” he says wryly.

“Not funny, darling.”

Cloud chuckles. He catches a rising dust cloud in the distance. His mother looks over as well.

“You’d better go, dear. It was so good to see you. Please, don’t be a stranger. He’s changed. Really. I miss you.” She gives him a loving kiss and hug but doesn’t linger.

Cloud hurries into his car and makes to leave while his mother tells him to take the Steadman paddock and to follow the road down to save some time. “And don't forget to close the gates,” she says as she follows Cloud, who’s driving at a crawl.

“Thanks, ma.”

“Love you.” She blows him a kiss.

A pang of guilt hits him square in the chest at the image of his mother growing smaller in the rearview mirror. He's lost count how often he's fantasized about coming back to the house and taking her away from this hellhole.

He focuses back on the asphalt, eager to gun down the road, but he needs to avoid the potholes, so he goes carefully and pays attention.

Lucky for him, he gets to the slight curve in the road before he sees the pickup truck in his mirrors. The more distance he can get between himself and that man the better.

He checks the mirrors while keeping an eye out for the paddock's gate. Discomfort thumps in his chest. This was such a bad idea. He should have gone to Petals.

While he berates himself anew, he finds the paddock gate, does as his mother requested with closing it, and drives across the field, following the dirt trek as it leads him to the next gate, and the next gate.

He's miles into the farmland. Nothing but fields surround him and it is there, at the Steadman paddock which backs onto wilderness, that Cloud pulls over. This is the closest he can get to where he's going by car. It's been a steady decline driving here and many trees and shrubs are between him and any possible view of the farmhouse, so Cloud relaxes his tense hold on the steering wheel.

The mountains loom like sleeping giants in the distance, casting the land into twilight as the sun has long sunk between the peaks.

Cloud watches night descend behind the wheel of his automobile. He definitely can't get to the lakes now. There is nothing to be done about it and he opts to sleeping in the car tonight.

Better that, than to unpack everything only to repack again in the morning.

Cloud makes space, reclining the front passenger seat as far as he can. He unrolls the sleeping mats and digs out the sleeping bag. The heat hasn't fully set in yet so he feels the chill in the air. The sleeping bag should keep him comfortable.

With the interior of the car decked out he turns to his other immediate needs: food and personal comfort.

The plan was to cook over fire. He can't really do that out in the field. Plus, despite being out of sight from the house, he doesn't want to risk rising smoke being seen and drawing unwanted attention.

So it's a plain dinner affair. Bread. Cold cuts of meat. A protein bar. He's not really all that hungry anyway. There is a buzz in his body. His ass feels gross. What he wouldn't give for a shower. He also reeks. It's the pheromones, or something. Usually he can't smell himself, but the heat gets him sweating up a storm.

He wishes he could tell his body to calm down. There is no one out here to take notice of him. No one to fill him or… breed him. Cloud grimaces at the turn of phrase. It's all so gross. Omega's and the entitlement of alpha's to omega's bodies is all so gross.

Sitting in the dark, in front of an electric lantern he's brought along, grows an introspection that hasn't been there in a long time. He's been preoccupied with running away from himself by keeping busy. But out here, among the star-studded sky that feels so vast and expansive, it's like being adrift in the ocean of his own thoughts.

He's successfully denied himself the feelings and sensations that are now stirring and waking in his body. He's always hated his biology, for as long as he can remember having been made aware of them. He hates how he's been made lesser in other's eyes. George's eyes. His own eyes.

Cloud rubs his face. These thoughts aren't at all enjoyable. In fact, he thought himself better than this. Better than feeling so much resentment toward alpha's. Not being in heat made him put that stuff behind him. But now that it's starting to build, and with it his urges that need someone else to be properly satiated, all the old resentments rise to the surface again.

All the omega positivity movements can go to hell. ‘Alpha's service you.’ He thinks that line in a mocking tone. He is and always will be something that alpha's see as theirs to get their rocks off to.

Even the alpha's at clubs. Their fake respect can't make up for the fact that they get paid. If they weren't getting paid—if there wasn't a risk to their livelihood being taken away if they let their true nature ring out even a little—Cloud feels certain that even the 'good alpha's' would turn to self-serving assholes the minute they got inside an omega on heat.

Cloud breathes out a loud huff of air, which turns into billowing mist. He's getting worked up for nothing. Clubs serve a purpose. He shouldn't get upset about it. He made the choice to walk away, which is why he's out here right now.

Insects buzz, chirp, and some even lightly clink against the glass of the lantern. Cloud hasn't felt this exposed to the elements since he left his hometown. It brings with it good and bad thoughts.

He steers clear of the bad, packs up the food wrappers, turns off the light, and hops into the car to settle down for sleep.

It's cramped and hot. He cracks the window, grabs Choccy, his Chocobo stuffie, which used to be a lot more vibrant in color and rounder, and snuggles with it as he twists and turns to get a comfortable position. ~~~

Cloud wakes up with a grunt. His heart races. Sweat drips. It's stinking hot. He grabs the lantern before he exits the car. The moon's light is bright, but Cloud's still got the lantern on so he can make out the dark shapes on the ground.

Not that it helps him much at all. The stumbles are unavoidable as he walks across the uneven paddock toward the fence to take a leak.

The cold night air offers welcome relief as he stands outside going about his business. Cold nips at his skin and fingers. The sweat clinging to his brow actually serves its purpose and draws the heat from his pores.

Slowly, he draws his vision up toward the cloudless sky. The brilliant specks of light twinkle above and take his breath away.

Looking up reminds him that he isn't all there is. It makes him feel like a speck of dirt and insignificant enough to get perspective from his day to day problems. It makes for welcome relief and he finds himself smiling up at the endless worlds and possibilities that exist out there in the vast reaches of space.

He finishes off and pulls his gaze back to his more earthly needs. Cloud tenses with fright and looks out across the next paddock at two points of light, reminiscent of cat's eyes.

They extinguish. Just like that. Cloud's breath remains stuck in his chest. He lets out a slow sigh.

What was that just now? Fireflies? Not in this weather or in this season. He tucks himself in and raises the lantern as he peers into the still darkness.

It is still. Almost too quiet. Where did all the insects go? There is nothing but silence. With narrowed eyes, he stares into the dark, straining to see and unable to tell if it's his vision playing tricks or if there really is a patch of darker shadow on the dark ground.

The wind blows, taking the last of the sweat on his skin with it. Slick gushes from his ass. Cloud jumps with a squeak and squeezes his sphincter to try and stop it from coming out. Futile really.

He turns back to the car and waddles over to freshen up.

God. He hates this so much and can't wait to get to the lake tomorrow.

After getting himself settled, he takes one last long look out across the paddock, but sees nothing. The insects chirp. He returns to the car to get more sleep.

#zakkura #cream pudding writes #story preview #omegaverse

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confusedlamp · 4 years ago

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Mental Health Strategies

I have dealt with various mental health BS (anxiety, depression, ADHD), and while I haven't gotten it all figured out, I have been dealing with it for well over a decade now. I figured I would make a list of coping mechanisms that have helped me and are worth trying out if you haven't already. None of these things are “magic” (just try this and your brain will be all fixed!), and obviously not applicable in all situations. I mostly learned these via therapy or from other people struggling with mental illness. This also may or may not be to help me have a list of things written down for when I forget.

Putting this below a keep reading thing because this got long FAST:

For depression funks:

-Find a small task you can complete. Wash a dish, throw clothes in the hamper, take out the trash, etc. Something small.

-Take a shower. And try changing clothes. Even if it's in to some pajamas. If you aren't up to showering, try washing your face and maybe wiping down with a wipe. But a change of clothes will still feel better.

-Eat something. Doesn't have to be "healthy." Some food, no matter what it is, is better than no food.

-Can you get outside? Doesn't have to be to excercise. Just sitting on the front steps for a few minutes in the sun.

-Doing something to take care of yourself. Can you brush your teeth? Have a glass of water? Brush your hair? Just pick one thing and so it.

-Plan something. See if you can get a friend to meet you to hang out (or zoom) or maybe for dinner. For yourself, maybe find a movie to go see (post pandemic). Preferably find something that has a set time.

For panics:

- Square breathing. Breathe in for 5, hold for 5, breath out for 5, hold for 5. Repeat.

-There are a ton of meditations on youtube. Search "5 minute meditation" and you'll find a ton of videos.

-After the initial panic is over try calling a friend. If you can't for some reason (sometimes it's 3 am or your friend isn't available), try finding some cat videos on youtube. I highly recommend Cole and Marmalade. Something light that will get your brain on something else.

For Executive Dysfunction:

-Remove steps to putting things away. For awhile in school, I would have a mess of papers that weren't organized or put away because I was trying to use a binder. As silly as it sounds, having to neatly align paper holes or got find a place to punch those holes, would prevent me from putting things away. So I switched to folders. Suddenly I stopped losing things and my papers were organized.

-Bullet journaling. Or rather, I just have a little notebook where I put all my to do lists, grocery lists, project planning, brainstorming, etc. I don't properly Bullet Journal (TM) but I keep all my lists in one spot and it helps.

-To do lists in general. Writing out steps to get something done. Cross things out when you finish them. You get a better sense of accomplishment.

-When executive dysfunction is preventing you from getting out of bed, break it down. Step one, sit up. Step 2, swing legs over side. Step 3 stand up.

-Same with any task. If it seems too overwhelming or you just can't bring yourself to do it, it might be because you are looking at all the steps and feeling it's too much. So just think about the first one.

-Alarms and reminders. I put everything on a calendar in my phone. Google Calendar allows you to set a reminder for events days, weeks, hours, and minutes ahead. You can also set alarms for things like "I know I need to leave at 3 for the appointment, so I am going to set an alarm for 2:45 to start getting ready." Do not rely on yourself to look at the clock. YOU WILL NOT LOOK AT THE CLOCK IN TIME.

-Set the dang alarm clock across the room. That way, you gotta get out of bed to turn it off. Once out of bed, go take any meds, or if you don’t have meds, go do a small morning task. Usually doing this small task is enough to get me awake enough to not get back into bed. If I do, well, at least I have taken my meds.

Sensory Issues:

- Fitted sweat pants and hiking pants. I can’t stand tight clothing, but I want to look presentable. Sweatpants that taper can still look decent. Travel pants or hiking pants (you can find these at places like REI), basically look like slacks but are made out of stretchy material. They also usually are made out of quick dry material which is nice.

-Fidget and sensory toys. I really like hedgehog rings which have these little spikes on them I can run my thumb over. Also the tangle. I have a tangle that has a rubber coating that has little bumps on it. What you end up liking might differ, but those are two of my favorite. Also, if anyone gives you shit about these, you can explain “it’s sorta like a stress ball, but instead you [whatever you do with this fidget toy].”

-Ear plugs. I wear these a lot because I have particular issues with sounds, especially certain ones. I prefer either silicone gummy ones or I like these that are “slim” because they don’t make my ears hurt. You can also get musician ear plugs that are made for musicians to protect their hearing, but still be able to hear tones and what is going on, for when sound is simply too load (also good for concerts).

For General ADHD things:

-Work somewhere different. This is a bit limited due to the pandemic currently, but just working at the kitchen table instead of your bedroom can help. In college, I used to go to the library to work. Just the idea that I was going to someplace specific to do a specific task, helped me actually get started.

-Promise yourself that you will work for 10 minutes. Set an alarm if needed. Usually just starting will make the task seem less intimidating. If 10 minutes is too much, do 5.

-Cardio. Get your self moving. This is good for a lot of things, but I highly recommend it for before you have to sit down to work on a task, like school work. I personally run, but if that’s not your thing dance, a class, walking, biking, etc. Just whatever you like.

-Time dependent things are good to get yourself going. Again, this is limited by the pandemic, but for normal times, can you meet a friend for breakfast? Can you schedule your appointment so you have to get to it before you start work? When I was in college, I used to go to morning gym classes before my first class of the day. This got me up and if I was 5 minutes late, it was better to do that for a gym class than a physics class. Bonus because it was exercise and I could focus better on the class.

-In classes, try to find a notes buddy or study group. That way, if you zoned out a moment, you can ask them for the notes from that section and vice versa. Also, meeting up with them is a great way to have a set time to study.

For General Anxiety/ Depression:

-This is going to sound cheesy as fuck, but: Make a list for what you are good at. Things you like about yourself. Things you have accomplished. They don’t have to be super deep, but can be. Do you like your nose? Can you paint your nails well? Are you good at understanding your cat? Are you good at writing? Drawing? Did you overcome a bad test and still manage to pass a class? If you have a friend or significant other that you are comfortable with, ask them to help maybe. Keep this list for when you feel like shit.

-Yoga. I’m sorry to put this on here because it seems like the most neurotypical advice, but. I honestly love this shit. If you haven’t given it a shot, there’s a reason why people like it. You don’t have to belong to a gym to try it. I highly recommend Yoga with Adrienne. She has some great beginner videos.

-Take breaks from social media and news as needed. Seriously. You are a single person and can’t fix everything. Do what you can (share the information, make a donation, join in mutual aid efforts, etc.) but doom scrolling and obsessing won’t help anyone. If you won’t do it for yourself, consider that burning yourself out will make you unable to help later on.

-Create things. They don’t have to be amazing. Crocheting, knitting, drawing, writing, etc. Having something that you can look at and be like “I made that” is really satisfying. Youtube has some great tutorials for pretty much anything. For drawing, I really like Proko. He has some great videos on drawing faces. But again: IT DOESN’T NEED TO BE GOOD.

General Resources/ Advice:

-If you are currently in college, most campuses will have groups for counseling and even limited one on one sessions. Usually, these counseling groups are free and the one on one sessions can help you find a counselor nearby.

-How to ADHD. Seriously I love this youtube channel. She goes over how ADHD affects the brain and has seriously helped me understand it better.

-The Trevor Project. For LGBTQ teens and youth. They have a hotline and many other resources.

-If what is stopping you from getting therapy is the idea that you are being dramatic/ are not that bad/ others have it worse: Go get therapy. What are we going to do, find the one person who has it the worst off than anyone and only they are allowed to feel bad and get help? Screw that. Get some help.

-Remember that there are good things in your future. Where ever you are in life, you have something positive in your future, even if you don’t know it yet. One day, there will be a moment when you look back on the dark times and be so glad you didn’t give up.

-Obligatory: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/ (1-800-273-8255). This is national suicide prevention lifeline, for the US. They can help.

-https://www.crisistextline.org/ For when you don’t like phone calls, try texting instead. Has US, Canada, UK, and Ireland numbers.

#well there you go #my post #mental health #coping mechanisms #adhd #depression #anxiety #depression recovery #mental health resources #hope this helps someone #mental health strategies

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