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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

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RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Dark”

Welcome back, everyone! Can you believe it's been six weeks already? I can't. Something something the uncomfortable passage of time during a pandemic as emphasized by a web-series.

But we're here to talk about RWBY the fictional story, not RWBY the cultural icon. At least, we will in a moment. First, I'd like to acknowledge that shaky line between the two, growing blurrier with every volume. A sort of good news, bad news situation.

The bad news — to get that out of the way — is that we cannot easily separate RWBY from its authors and those authors have, sadly, been drawing a lot of negative attention as of late. This isn't anything new, not at all, but I think the unexpectedly long hiatus gave a lot of fans (myself included) the chance to think about Rooster Teeth's failings without getting distracted by their biggest and brightest production. There's a laundry list of problems here — everything from the behavior of voice actors to the quality of their merch — but as a sort of summary issue, I'd like to highlight the reviews that continue to pop up on websites like Glassdoor, detailing the toxic, sexist, crunch-obsessed environment that RT employees are forced to work in. A lot of these websites requires a login to read more than a page of reviews, but you can check out a Twitter thread about it here.

Now, I want to be clear: I'm not bringing this up as a way to shame anyone enjoying RWBY. This isn't a simplistic claim of, "The authors are Problematic™ and therefore you can't like the stuff they produce." Nor is this meant to be a catch-all excuse for RWBY's problems. If it were, I'd have dropped these recaps years ago. I'm of the belief that audiences maintain the right to both praise and criticize the work they're given, regardless of the context in which that work was produced. At the end of the day, RT has presented RWBY as a finished product and, more than that, presents it as an excellent product, one worth both our emotional investment and our money (whether in the form of paying for a First account, or encouraging us to buy merch, attend cons, etc.) I'll continue to critique RWBY as needed, but I a) wanted fans to be at least peripherally aware of these issues and b) clarify that my use of "RT" in statements like, "I can't believe RT is screwing up this badly" is meant to be a broad, nebulas acknowledgement that someone in the company is screwing up, either creatively (doesn't have the skill to write a good scene) or morally (hasn't created an environment in which other creators are capable of crafting a good scene). The real, inner workings of such companies are mostly a secret to their audiences and thus it's near impossible for someone like me — random fan writing these for fun as a casual side hobby — to accurately point fingers. Hence, broad "RT." I just wanted to clarify that when I use this it's as a necessary placeholder for whoever is actually responsible, not a damnation of the overworked animator breaking down in a bathroom. Heavy stuff, but I thought it was necessary (or at least worthwhile) to acknowledge this issue as we head into the second half of the volume.

Now for the good news: RWBY has reached 100 episodes! For any who may not know, 100 is a pretty significant number in the TV world because, when talking about prime time programming, it guarantees syndicated reruns. Basically, networks don't want audiences to get burned out with a show — changing the channel when it comes on because ugh, I've seen this already, recently too — and 100 episodes allows for a roughly five month run without any repeats, making it very profitable. RWBY is obviously not a television show and doesn't benefit from any of this (hell, modern television doesn't benefit from this as much as it used to, not in the age of streaming), but the 100 episode threshold is still ingrained in American culture. Beyond just being a nice, rounded number, it is historically a measure of huge success and I can't imagine that RT isn't aware of that. Regardless of what we think of RWBY's current quality, this is one hell of a milestone and should be applauded.

All that being said... RWBY's quality is definitely still lacking lol.

Our 100th episode is titled "Dark" — keeping with the one word titles, then — and I'd like to emphasize that, as a 100th episode, it definitely delivers in terms of plot. There's plenty of action, important character beats, and at least one major reveal, everything we'd expect from a milestone and a Part II premiere. The animation also continues to be noteworthy for its beauty, as I found myself admiring many of the screenshots I took for this recap. There are certainly things to praise. The only problem (one we're all familiar with by now) is that these small successes are situated within a narrative that's otherwise falling apart. It's all good stuff... provided you ignore literally everything else surrounding it.

But let's dive into some examples. We open on Qrow starting, awoken by the thunder outside. Robyn has been watching him and makes a peppy comment about how none of them will be sleeping tonight, followed by a more serious, "Sounds bad out there." Yeah, it does sound bad, especially when they all know — thanks to Ruby's message back in Volume 7 — that this is due to Salem's arrival. I think a lot of the fandom has forgotten that little detail because people often discuss Qrow as if he is entirely ignorant of what is going on outside his cell. Even if we were to assume that he's forgotten all about the pesky Salem issue (the horror of Clover's death overriding everything else, perhaps) he still knows that Tyrian is running loose in a heat-less city with a creepy storm going on and, from his perspective, the Very Evil Ironwood is still running the show. So it's bad, which begs the question of why Qrow (and Robyn, for that matter) hasn't displayed an ounce of legitimate worry for everyone he knows out there. Thus far, their interactions have centered entirely around Qrow's misplaced blame and Robyn's terrible attempts to lighten the mood, despite the fact that a war is raging right beyond that wall. It's another example of RWBY's inability to manage tone properly, to say nothing of balancing the multiple concerns any one character should be trying to juggle. Just as it rankles that Ruby and Yang don't seem to care about what has happened to their uncle, Qrow likewise doesn't seem to care about what might be happening to his nieces. When did we reach a point where these relationships are so broken that someone can be arrested/chucked into a deadly battle and the others just... ignore that?

So Robyn's otherwise innocuous comment immediately reminds me of how badly the narrative has treated these conflicts and, sadly, things don't improve much from here. We are thankfully spared more of Robyn's jokes when Qrow realizes that what he's hearing can't be thunder. A second later, Cinder blasts through the wall — called it! — and Qrow instinctively transforms.

The only downside to this moment is that the whole ceiling falls down on Qrow and the others because APPARENTLY these cells don't have tops on them. Seriously. As far as I can recall we don't see the stone breaking through the forcefield somehow and this looks pretty open to me.

If it is... you're telling me these crazy powerful fighters who practice landing strategies and leap tall buildings in a single bound —

— can't just hop over this mildly high electric fence to get out? Qrow can't just fly away?

We're, like, two minutes in, folks.

We transfer to Nora's perspective as she wakes up, seeing Klein giving her the IV. He tells her not to worry, that "you and your friend are going to be just fine." What friend? Penny? Klein went upstairs prior to Weiss hugging Whitley or Penny crash landing outside. I had thought them bursting through the door with another unconscious friend was the first time he learned what the big bang outside was, but apparently not.

Penny is, obviously, a mess. While I now understand the choice to make her blood such an eye-catching color when that's crucial to the Hound's hunt, I still think it looks strange visually. Like someone has taken a copy of RWBY and painted over it. It doesn't look like it fits the art style. More than that, it implies some rather complicated things about Penny's humanity, especially in a volume focused around her being a "real girl." Real enough for Maiden powers, but with obviously inhuman blood that isn't even referred to as "bleeding." Penny "leaks" instead.

Toss in the fact that she's literally an android who is made up of tech — recall the running gags about her being heavy, or it hurts to fist-bump her, to say nothing of keeping things like multiple blades inside her body — yet Klein says that her "basic anatomy" is the same and he can "stitch up that wound."

I'm sorry, what? Whatever Penny looks like on the inside, it's not going to resemble a human woman's anatomy, and Klein might be able to stitch the outer layer of skin she's got, but that won't do anything to fix whatever metal bits have been broken underneath. Penny isn't a human-robot hybrid, she's a robot with an aura. Penny has knives in her back, rockets in her feet, and a super computer behind her eyes. When our clip introduced that Klein would be the one to help Penny, my initial reaction was, "Seriously? He's a butler and a doctor and an engineer?" But RWBY didn't even try to get away with a Super Klein explanation, they just waved away Penny's very obvious, inhuman anatomy. Yeah, I'm sure "stitching up" an android wound is just like giving Nora her IV. I hope the surgical sutures he used are extra strong!

In an effort to not entirely drag this episode, I do appreciate that Whitley is allowed an "ugh" moment about the non-blood covering his shirt without anyone calling him out on it. That felt like the sort of thing the show would usually try to make a character feel guilty about and I'm glad that, for once, he was just allowed to be frustrated without comment.

Then the power goes out and May calls, which raises questions about what state the CCTS is in and when scrolls are available to our protagonists vs. when they're not. But whatever. She's checking in because she just "saw another bombing run light up the Kingdom" and —

Wait. Bombing? Salem is bombing the city? I know we've seen explosions in the sky, but I'd always just attributed that to evil aesthetic. Why does this dialogue sound like it's from a World War II film and not a fantasy sci-fi show about literal monsters launching a ground attack?

May looks pretty against the sky though. I like her hair color against that purple.

I'm admittedly grasping at positives here because we finally return to her "You have to choose" ultimatum and — surprise! — May has pulled back completely. Ruby says that once they've helped Penny, "We'll...we'll do something!" which is once again her avoiding making a decision. Ruby still refuses to choose, instead falling back on generic, optimistic pep talks. They'll figure out how to stop Salem later. They'll think about the impact of telling the world later. They'll choose who to help later. Ruby keeps pushing these problems into the future where, she hopes, a perfect, magical solution will have appeared for her to latch onto. When that continues to not happen, others pressuring her to actually do something and stop waiting for perfection — Ironwood, Yang, May — she panics and continues stalling for time. Wait an episode and the narrative supports her in this.

Because initially May was forcing Ruby to decide. Now, May enables her desire to keep putting things off. "Don't beat yourself up, kid. At this point, I don't know how much is left to be done." That's the exact opposite of what May believed last episode, that there was still so much work and good to do for the people of Mantle. This is precisely what the show did with Yang and Ren's scenes too, having people call Ruby out... but then return to a message of, 'Don't worry, you're actually doing just fine' before Ruby is forced to actually change.

None of which even touches on May calling her "kid" in this moment. That continues to be a convenient way of absolving Ruby of any responsibility. When she wants to steal airships or Amity Tower, she's an adult everyone should listen to, the leader of this war. When the story wants to absolve her of previously mentioned flaws, she becomes a kid who shouldn't "beat herself up." I said years ago that RWBY couldn't continue to let the group be both children and adults simultaneously, yet here we are.

So that was a thoroughly disappointing scene. Ruby gets her moment to look sad and defeated, listing "the grimm, the crater, Nora, Penny" as problems she doesn't know how to solve. Note that 'Immortal witch attacking the city I've helped trap here' isn't included in that list. Ruby is still ignoring Salem herself and no one in the group is picking up where May left off, challenging her to do more than wring her hands over things others are already trying to take care of: Ironwood is fighting the grimm, May has gone off to help the crater, Klein is patching up Nora and Penny. Ruby, as one flawed individual, should not be expected to come up with a solution to everything, but she does need to stop acting like she can come up with a solution to everything when it matters most (office scene) and rejecting others' solutions when they ask for her help (Ironwood, May).

If it feels like I'm dragging the flawed, traumatized teenager too much, it's not in an effort to ignore those aspects of her identity. Rather, it's because she's also the licensed huntress who wrested control from a world leader and violently demanded she be put in charge of this battle. Ruby, by her own actions, is now responsible for dealing with these problems, or admitting she was wrong and letting others take the lead, without purposefully derailing their plans. She doesn't get to suddenly go, "I don't know," cry a little, and get sympathetic pats.

But of course that's precisely what happens, courtesy of Weiss.

During this whole scene I kept wondering why no one was celebrating Nora waking up, especially when Ruby outright mentions her. Have they just not noticed given all the Penny drama? Because Nora absolutely woke up.

Aaaand went back to sleep, I guess. What was the point of that POV shot? No worries though, she'll wake up again in a minute.

Willow arrives and announces that they can fix the power (and Penny) using the generator at the edge of the property. I'm convinced RT doesn't actually know what a generator is because the characters are acting like it's some super special device that only richy-rich could possibly have. Whitley says that it's the SDC executives who have their "own power supply" and that it's "extremely unfair." Now, don't get me wrong, a good generator powering large portions of your house can run you 30k+, but you can also get one that plugs into your extension cord and powers your fridge for a couple hundred. There's absolutely a class issue here, just not the one Whitley and Weiss seem to be commenting on. They make a generator sound like the sort of device that only a politician-CEO could possible have and it's weird.

Likely, it sounds weird because it's a choppy way of getting Whitley to bring up the wealth disparity so he can then go, 'That's right! We're crazy rich with a company housing tons of ships! We can use those to evacuate Mantle.' Awkwardness aside, I do like that the Schnee wealth is being used for good purposes, but... evacuate where? To the city currently under attack by a giant whale? In a RWBY that wasn't determined to demonize Ironwood, this would have been a great plot point during the office scene instead, with Weiss offering her services to Ironwood, even if the group decides that a continued evacuation still isn't possible.

Instead, we get it here from Whitley. Do I need to point out the obvious? That Whitley is the MVP of this episode? He's done more good in an HOUR than the group has managed in a year. Give this kid some training and make him a huntsmen instead.

We're given a (very pretty!) shot of the shattered moon because it wouldn't be RWBY if we weren't continually reminded that gods once wiped out humanity before destroying part of a celestial body... and absolutely no one talks about that lol.

Blake's coat might not make any sense for her color scheme, but it does make her easy to spot as she and Ruby run across the grounds. Oh my god, they're actually doing something together! It only took eight years. They even get a lovely talk where Blake admits how much she looks up to Ruby, despite her being younger, and once again I'm struck at how much more I would have loved this scene if it had appeared elsewhere in the series. It is, indeed, as sweet and emotional as all the RWBY GIF-ers are claiming... provided you overlook that this is the exact opposite of what Ruby needs to hear right now. She doesn't need to hear that she's more mature and reliable than her elders when she's functioning under a "We don't need adults" mentality. She doesn't need to hear that not knowing what to do is totally fine, not when that led to her turning on Ironwood, despite not knowing how to stop Salem. She doesn't need to hear that "doing something" — doing anything — is a strength, because Ruby keeps avoiding the big problems for smaller ones she's comfortable with, like standing by Penny's bedside instead of deciding between Mantle and Atlas. Blake's speech is heartfelt, but it's a speech that suits a Beacon days Ruby who is having some doubts about her leadership skills, not the girl whose impulsive — and now lack of — actions is having world-wide repercussions. Everyone is babying Ruby to a staggering degree. It's like if we had a med show where the doctor is standing by the bedside of a coding patient, fretting between two treatments. 'Don't worry,' their colleague says, patting their shoulder. 'I've always looked up to you. You'll do something when you're ready' and then they continue to watch the patient, you know, die.

Also: who does Ruby look up to? Everyone talks about how much they depend on and trust Ruby, but who does Ruby look to for guidance? A number of her problems stem from the fact that she has rejected the advice of everyone who has tried to help her improve: Qrow, Ozpin, Ironwood, even Yang. Ruby is presented as the pinnacle of what to strive for in a leader, rather than a leader who has only been doing this for two years and still has a great deal to learn.

Anyway, they get the generator on and the Hound shows up.

I am begging RT to just make RWBY a horror story. All their best scenes the last three years have been horror I am bEGGING —

Anyway, while Ruby waits to be eaten we cut to Willow and Klein, the former of which is reaching for her bottle, pulling back, reaching again, all while her hand shakes. This is good. This is what we should have gotten with Qrow. Which isn't to say that their (or anyone's) addiction should be identical, but rather that this is a far more engaging and complex look at addiction than what our birb got. Willow tells us that she doesn't drink in the dark despite bringing the bottle with her; tries to resist drinking when she's scared and ultimately fails. Qrow just decided to stop drinking after decades of addiction, seemingly for no reason, and that was that. Why is a side character we only met this volume written better than one of the main cast?

Blake manages to call Weiss about the Hound and she asks if Whitley can handle the airships without her. I mean, I assume so given that Weiss is looking at the bookshelves while Whitley does all the work lol. He makes a teasing comment about how he can if she can handle that grimm and she comments that they still need to work on his "attitude."

No they don't. Weiss stuck a weapon in her kid brother's face. Whitley made a joke. Even if Weiss' comment is likewise meant to be read as teasing, it's clear that we've bypassed any meaningful conversation between them. That hug was supposed to be a Fix Everything moment even though, as I've laid out elsewhere, it didn't even come close.

We cut back to Ruby getting thrown through a wall into the backyard and the Hound creepily coming after her. She's freaked out by this clearly abnormal grimm and Blake is weirdly... not? "It's just a grimm. Just focus!" Uh, it's obviously not. Have we reached the traumatized, sleep-deprived point where the group is sinking into full-blown denial? I wouldn't be surprised. They've been awake for like... 40+ hours.

Because the Hound knocks Ruby out with a single hit. Just, bam, she's down. "Focusing" is not the solution here.

Weiss calls to warn the others about the grimm, telling them to stick together. Willow (understandably) starts freaking out and flees the room (classic horror trope!). Klein is left alone when Penny wakes up with red eyes. Oh no!

Don't worry. You know nothing meaningful happens.

She shoves Klein before (somehow?) resisting the hack, her Maiden powers going wild in the process. Just when it looks as if Penny might cause some serious damage, Nora wakes up, takes her hand, and says, I kid you not:

"Hey... no one is going to make you do anything you don't want to do... It's just a part of you. Don't forget about the rest."

Okay. I want to re-emphasize that I love hopeful, uplifting, victory-won-through-the-power-of-love stories. Istg I'm not dead inside, it's just that RWBY does this so badly. I mean, what is this? It has similarities to the character shouting, 'No! Resist!' to their mind-controlled ally, but this is not presented as a desperate, last-ditch effort by Nora. She just speaks like this is the most obvious truth in the world. If you don't want to have your mind taken over... just don't! It's that simple. The problem definitely isn't that Watts has changed her coding and has implemented a command she can't override, it's that Penny has forgotten about the "rest" of her personhood.

And this works. Granted, not for long, but we leave Nora having successfully calmed Penny down and until her eyes unexpectedly go red again scenes later, we're left assuming that this is a permanent solution. That, imo anyway, is taking the Power of Love too far, overriding the basic reality of Penny being hacked. It’s not a personal failing she must overcome, it’s an external attack. I would have rather had Nora react to the scars she saw on her arm, or have a moment with Klein, or get some love from the group. Not a wakes up, falls asleep, wakes up again to save Penny with a Ruby level 'Just ignore reality' pep-talk, then back to sleep again.

So Penny isn't attacking her allies, or mistakenly hurting her allies with wild Maiden powers. Not that the group doesn't have enough to deal with, but still. Weiss arrives to help with the Hound and attempts a new summon, only to fail when two minor grimm burrow up into her glyphs. I really enjoyed that moment, both for the wing visual and the knowledge that Weiss' glyphs can fail if you break them somehow (which makes sense). Also, I just like that she failed in general? Weiss is, as per usual now, about to demonstrate just how OP she is compared to the rest of the team, so it was nice to see her faltering here.

The Hound tries to make off with Ruby and Blake does an excellent job of keeping it tethered. Ruby finally wakes, only to realize that the grimm is actually after Penny since it's staring at her power up through the window, no longer trying to escape. Moments like this remind me that there's someone on RT's writing team that knows what they're doing, at least some of the time. The assumption that the Hound is after Ruby as a SEW, the surprise that it's actually Penny, realizing it holds up because Ruby is covered in Penny's blood and Blake is not... that's all nice, tight plotting. More of that please!

The Hound drops her and Ruby's aura shatters when she hits the ground. I want everyone to remember this moment as an example of how strong the Hound is. The group may be tired, but unlike YJR they've been sitting around in the Schnee manor for a number of hours, regaining strength. We saw the Hound hit Ruby twice — once through the wall and once to knock her out — and then she falls from a not very high distance for a huntress, yet her aura is toast. That's the level of power and skill the Hound possesses. Decimating YJR, knocking Oscar out, same for Ruby, avoiding Blake and Weiss' hits, soon to treat Penny like a ragdoll. Just remember all this for the episode's end.

Blake tells Weiss she'll take care of Ruby, you go help the others. Yay breaking up the duos more! Bad timing though as the new acid-spitting grimm pops out of the ground and Blake is now left alone to face it.

Weiss re-enters the mansion, knowing the Hound is somewhere nearby, but not where. Suddenly, Willow's voice sounds through her scroll with an, "Above you!" which... doesn't keep Weiss from getting hit lol. But it's the thought that counts! Willow has accessed the cameras she's set up throughout the manor, watching the Hound's movements, and I have to say, that is a WAY better use of her separation from Klein than I thought we were getting. I legit thought they'd have Willow run away in a panic, meet the Hound, die, and then Weiss could be sad about losing her mom.

It does say something about RWBY's writing that this was my knee-jerk theory, as well as my surprise when we got something way better.

The Hound runs off, uninterested in Weiss, and she asks Willow to keep tabs on it. It heads for Whitley next (also covered in Penny's blood) and very creepily stalks him in the office with a, "I know you're here." Whitley is seconds away from being Hound chow before one of Weiss' boars pin it against the wall. He runs, then runs BACK to finish deploying the airships, before finally escaping assumed death. Goddamn this boy is pulling his weight.

I assume all these ships are automated then? I hope someone takes a moment to call May. Otherwise it's going to be super weird for the Mantle citizens if a fleet of SDC ships just show up and hover there...

I don't entirely understand how Weiss saved him though. She's nowhere to be seen when Whitley leaves and he runs a fair distance before he and Willow encounter Weiss again. We know her summons don't have to keep right next to her, but are they capable of rudimentary thought, attacking an enemy — and an enemy only — despite Weiss being a couple corridors down and unable to see the current battlefield? I don't know. In another series I'd theorize that this was a deliberate hint, a way to clue us into the fact that Willow, someone who we currently know almost nothing about, had training in the past and summoned the boar herself. Weiss and Winter certainly didn't get that hereditary skill from Jacques. Hell, we might still get that, Weiss reacting with confusion next episode when Whitley thanks her for the boar, but I doubt it. That scene with Ruby and the Hound aside, the show isn't this good at laying groundwork and then following up on it.

Case in point: Weiss says, "I didn't forget you" to Whitley after he gets away from the Hound, the moment trying to harken back to her promise to Willow. Key word is "trying." Because she absolutely forgot him! Weiss threatened and ignored Whitley until he proved his usefulness. I also shouldn't need to point out that, "Don't forget your brother" does not mean, "Don't let your brother die a horrible death by abnormal grimm." Weiss acts like her saving him is a fulfillment of her promise, rather than just the most basic of human decency. And also, you know, her job.

So that part is frustrating. The entire Schnee dynamic is a mess, from Weiss making a joke of her father's arrest, to Willow (presumably) fixing their relationship by putting a hand on her daughter's shoulder. Okay.

Then Weiss cuts off the Hound by summoning a giant wall of ice. My brain, every time this happens:

YOU COULD HAVE FIXED THE HOLE IN MANTLE'S WALL.

Moving on, Blake's fight against the acid... thing has some great choreography, including Blake using her semblance which we haven't seen in AGES.

I really like the fight itself, just not what Blake is shouting the whole time. "I need you, Ruby! We all need you!" This has really gotten ridiculous. Ruby is presented as everyone's sole savior despite failing time and time again. It's not that I don't think Blake as a character should have faith in her leader, it's that I don't think the writers should be crafting a story where everyone puts their unshakable hopes in an untrained, disloyal, impulsive 17 year old. I mean, Ruby is currently unconscious, yet Blake is acting like if she doesn't wake up — she, as an individual, if Ruby Rose does not re-join this fight — then all is lost. If Ruby doesn't save them, no one can. Which is, of course, absurd on numerous levels. Blake doesn't need the passed out, aura-less Ruby right now, she needs the still very healthy Weiss pulling out multiple summons and an ice wall! Use your scroll and call for backup again.

But of course, Ruby wakes up and kills the new, terrifying grimm with a single hit. It's a preview of what's to come with the Hound and it's just as ridiculous here as it will be there.

Speaking of the Hound, am I the only one who thought this was... cute?

I can't possibly be the only one. That head-tilt is exactly what my dogs do and my brain instinctively went, "Aww, puppy!"

Murderous puppy.

The Hound realizes none of the Schnees are who it's looking for and runs off. Penny, meanwhile, has been fully taken over because, well, that's just what's convenient now. She resists long enough keep Amity up, then succumbs, then resists to apologize to Ruby, then succumbs, then resists because Nora asked her to, then succumbs once it's time to knock her out. If RWBY was willing to commit to consequences, Penny would have been taken over and that was that. The characters would need to deal with whatever outcome happens as a result. Instead, the show very carefully avoids any of those pesky consequences by having Penny successfully resisting at key moments, despite no explanation of how she's managing that.

She shoves Klein again (Klein is having a Bad Time) and starts walking down the main steps. When Whitley wants to know where the hell she's going, Penny mechanically responds that she must "Open the vault, then self-destruct." I suppose the change Watts made was the self-destruct order? Ironwood obviously wants the vault open, though not necessarily Penny's death. Think what you will of his moral compass, she's a damn powerful ally — a research project, perhaps — and a Maiden to boot. At the very least, her death may give the powers to someone even worse.

God, please don't let them have brought Penny back and made her a Maiden just to kill her again.

The Hound arrives though and, as said, knocks Penny out. We're back to square one with her, then. Note though that this attack is near instantaneous. She grabs its hands one second, is hanging limply the next. Wow, the Hound sure is a terrifying antagonist!

Not for long.

"That's enough," Ruby says and one-shots it with her eyes.

Now, I want to talk for a moment about the implications of that line. "That's enough." Obviously Ruby is #done with this situation and emotionally unwilling to let the Hound kidnap Penny (congratulations, Nuts and Dolts shippers), but there's a meta reading here as well. Not intentional, but glaring to me nonetheless. Basically, the idea that the Hound has, from a plot perspective, done enough. It has served its singular purpose. It kidnapped Oscar and now it dies. Never-mind how insanely powerful we've established the Hound to be, never-mind how Ruby's eyes also work or don't work according to whether anything of actual import is on the line. From a plot perspective "that's enough" and the Hound can be disposed of instantly. It got Oscar and gave us an episode of filler creepiness. Move along now.

The idea behind Ruby's eyes isn't bad, but the execution absolutely is. RT has undermined a huge portion of the stakes by giving their protagonist an instant kill-shot that always works precisely when she needs it to. Starting with the Apathy, we have yet to get a moment where Ruby's eyes fail to save the day when she really needs them to, no matter how incredible the challenge. The Hound was very intentionally written to be a grimm outside of the group's current power level. It thinks, it talks, they literally can't touch it. This creates the expectation that the group will need to grow stronger — or at least become smarter — in order to surmount this new obstacle, yet Ruby's eyes undermine all of that. The group hasn't grown in years, the show just makes enemies weaker as needed (Ace Ops), or has Ruby pull out her eyes as a trump card. It wouldn't be that bad if we'd at least gotten a good battle out of it, one where the group gets close to defeating the Hound on their own, but needs Ruby's eyes to finish it off. Instead, she literally walks up without any aura, announces to the audience that this antagonist's time is up, and blasts it out a window.

Granted, Ruby's eyes don't completely finish it. The Hound pulls itself to its feet and we see this.

Yup, that's a guy and yup, those are silver eyes.

I would like to issue a formal apology to the "It's secretly Summer!" theorists in the fandom. I mean, I still think it would be ridiculous (and at this point highly improbable) that Ruby's dead mother has actually been a grimm mutant this whole time, just hanging out in Salem's realm while she waits for the plot to start before attacking the world, and then sends some no-name faunus dude after the group instead of their leader's mother for extra, emotional torture... but you all were definitely right about the “It's a person” part! I... don't know how I feel about this. Admittedly, it seems to be a logical continuation of the other grimm-human hybrids we've seen — namely Cinder and Salem herself — and it finally explains why Salem wants Ruby alive (even though it actually doesn't because WHY did she want more SEWs for Hound grimm when she wasn't even attacking back then? And already has all these other insanely powerful tools??), but at the same time, it feels like it's complicating a story that doesn't need further complications. The group fights monsters and has an immortal enemy. You don't need to add 'Some of those monsters are secretly human' to the mix.

It doesn't hurt that this twist is giving me Attack on Titan vibes, which, ew. A dark time in my fandom life, folks.

The Hound staggers a few steps before Whitley and Willow dump a suit of armor on it. That's all it takes to kill the most dangerous grimm we've ever seen: a single flash of silver eyes and some heavy metal. This also wreaks havoc with the implication that Salem wants SEWs alive because they create such powerful grimm. Obviously not. I mean yeah, normal huntsmen are going to have serious problems, we’ve seen that this volume, but any other SEWs nearby will take a Hound out instantaneously. For a villain with so many other powerful abilities — immortality, magic, endless normal grimm, her nifty soup — Salem would be much better served just killing SEWs straight out. Clearly, creating Hounds isn't worth the effort.

The Hound leaves some bones behind and Ruby collapses to her knees, overcome with the knowledge that this was once a person. Again, uncomfortable Attack on Titan parallels.

We finish our premiere with Cinder clearing away rubble to reveal Watts. Honestly, I like that we ended on this because her rescue is hilarious. She just slings him over her shoulders like a sack of potatoes and blasts off with her magic fire feet. Fantastic.

Note though that with this scene we've seen almost everything from the clip and the trailer. What's to come in the rest of Volume 8? No idea. Outside of Winter leading the charge with the bomb, we got it all here.

Time to update the bingo board!

I'm crossing off "Introducing new grimm that are quickly abandoned." Between the Hound and acid-dude both falling to a single blast/cut from Ruby, we've more than earned this square.

It doesn't look as if we'll get another Watts-Jacques team-up now that he's left, but you never know.

Maria's got me worried. I feel like her Yoda fight against Neo is the one thing she'll be allowed to do this volume, but given that we didn't see anyone except Ruby's group this episode, we don't yet know whether the story is now ignoring her and Pietro, or if they'll re-appear in another episode like YJR.

Qrow is free. Will he get a drink before trying to murder Ironwood? Perhaps.

Still no bingo :(

All in all, the episode was by no means horrible. I think there were lots of horrible parts, but also some legitimately well executed moments, fun action, and scenes that I can easily imagine as squee worthy if you lean back and squint. Everything is comparative and in the growing collection of bad RWBY episodes, this one isn't securing a top slot. Which doesn't mean I think it's good, just... not as bad as it could have been and primarily only bad due to long-running problems, not things this specific episode has done. That's my bar then, so low it has officially entered the underworld.

Still, RWBY is back and a part of me is eager to see where this volume takes us, for better or for worse.

Until next week! 💜

[Ko-Fi]

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #mymetas #rwby recaps #rwby dark

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yandearest · 5 years ago

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May The Odds Be Ever in Your Favor (Hoseok x Reader Hunger Games AU) Chapter 2: Training Day

Summary - Living in District 4 you never thought you would have to worry about being selected for the Hunger Games. With a training centre right near the dock of the houseboat you lived and fished from, your district was known for volunteers who trained their whole lives for a shot at glory and riches. But at age 18, your name is called and no girls volunteer to take your place. Your devastation is answered when Kim Namjoon volunteers for the males shortly after. Tall, muscular, highly intelligent and charming, the years of diligent preparation have bestowed Namjoon with the expectation of being the next District 4 champion after Finnick Odair last won 3 years ago.

Fishing for a living has granted you skills with a knife but, as your mentor Finnick is quick to describe, your beautiful face may well be your best asset.

Upon arrival in the Capitol you are quickly faced with the reality that Namjoon may not even be the biggest danger inside the Arena. Especially when you capture the obsessive attention of District 2′s own volunteer, and killing machine, Jung Hoseok. Hope soon fades from ‘survival’ to ‘the mercy of a painless death’ but Hoseok certainly has other plans.

Pairing - Hoseok x (fem)Reader

Genre - thriller, angst, yandere

Word Count 7.2K

Warnings - [in later chapters] major character death, graphic depictions of violence, swearing, obsession, dubcon-smut (smut will be marked so reading is optional), gore, unrealistically beautiful oc because I’m a sucker for that shitty trope and want to live vicariously through my writing (sue me)

The following is a dark fic featuring a yandere character, violence, obsession, and coercion. By no means does writing about this in a fictional setting condone any of those behaviours, much like Stephen King writing horror doesn’t mean he approves of psychotic killers in reality. Please avoid reading if any of these warnings makes you uncomfortable.

Previous Chapter: 1

Cross posted on A03 so people can subscribe for updates/notifications

Training began the following morning at 10am, although when you woke for breakfast at 8 Namjoon was nowhere to be found in your living quarters. Finnick informed you that Namjoon had left to begin early as you elected for a bowl of cereal instead of the array of foods presented on the dining table. To anyone else the spread of pancakes, syrup, pastries, bagels, bacon, eggs, sausages and other delicacies you weren’t even familiar with would have appeared mouth watering. But in your state it all just looked like cardboard. You didn’t trust yourself to be able to keep anything down but knew you had to at least eat something so you wouldn’t pass out later.

You tried to make the most of the one on one time with Finnick, listening as he talked about the range of stations that would be inside the gym. For the most part he seemed to suggest being a shadow to the rest of the careers, “play along and act dumb so they think you trust them and are too stupid to make plans for yourself”. Your best bet of survival relied entirely on them underestimating you and you being able to correctly time when to stab them in the back (literally) before they disposed of you.

Once you finished barely eating, you dressed in the capitol provided athletic wear; a fitted black T shirt with decorative panels of silver and gold along the sides and the number 4 emblazoned on your sleeves, along with a pair of just-below-knee-length black leggings that also featured the same silver and gold design as a strip on the sides. After tightly lacing up your sneakers, and tying your hair into a high ponytail, you took the elevator from the floor of your living quarter down to the basement where the gym was located.

You had no idea what you were expecting, perhaps something similar to the warehouse gym back in 4, but the spacious room that you arrived in was definitely not it. To start with, despite being under ground beneath an apartment complex, it looked like it could easily fit at least five warehouses inside the space. There were so many stations set up you wondered how it would be humanly possible to even attempt all of them within your three-day time limit. There were more weapons here than you had ever seen in your entire life combined; what appeared to be a parkour racing course, a rope climb, fire making equipment, a knotting station, something that looked like a paint set up, a tablet with symbols (what use that was supposed to bring you had no idea) and many other things you weren’t sure of. A large digital clock was mounted in the middle of the wall at the back, near a rock climbing wall, displaying the time as 9:45AM. You tried to swallow down your nerves as you scanned across the room looking for Namjoon. You found him easily at the weight section, bench pressing a large barbell you didn’t care enough to read the weight on. It seemed like a pretty basic scare tactic of trying to intimidate the other districts with his strength, but it didn’t have any impact on you because you were already aware.

“What’s muscles over there trying to prove?” a sudden voice at your side caused you to start, whipping your head to see Krystal next to you. She didn’t quite smile but there was an amused look to her eyes and a little quirk to the corner of her mouth.

“Holy shit please don’t sneak up on me like that in the arena, I will literally die of a heart attack” you exhaled with an awkward laugh at the end.

“Wouldn’t be the most painful way to die in there,” Krystal retorted with a shrug. She looked different compared to last night, but you supposed you could say the same for everyone if you compared them in an elaborate costumer to their gym wear. Her sleek black hair had been braided into two French plaits down the back of her head and secured into twin buns on the bottom.

“Touché,” you agreed but quickly moved to shift the topic away from you dying. “To answer your question Namjoon’s probably trying to intimidate some kids into thinking he’s going to bench press them to death.”

Krystal gave an amused hum before gesturing towards her fellow district mate Yoongi who was lazily sitting against the wall nearby. Training hadn’t even started yet and he looked like he’d much rather be asleep. It was hard to think of him as the confidently spoken cape wearing tribute from yesterday when he was now slumped against a wall. If anything he looked quite adorable.

“We just got here, have you seen 2?”

“No, I just got here myself, Namjoon came early to get extra training in”

You looked around the warehouse again trying to spot a familiar head of copper hair or Athena’s cropped blonde pixie cut but couldn’t see either of them for now.

“If he wants to wear himself out before we even get into the arena that’s his business, but if he pulls a muscle or drops a barbell on his head, I’m not carrying him,” Krystal muttered as Namjoon grunted lifting his weights up a final time before slamming them back on the rack.

“Agreed.” You murmured whilst Namjoon finally spotted you were here and nodded towards you and District 1 in recognition, before walking over. Krystal and yourself both gave half hearted waves in reply, Yoongi looked like he had actually fallen asleep and didn’t do anything.

“Hey,” Namjoon greeted wiping his forehead on his shirt sleeve and taking a drink from his water bottle. As much as you had made light of his workout before the fact he was barely out of breath after lifting more than twice your body weight was pretty intimidating. “Have you seen 2 yet?” You were about to tell him what you had just told Krystal when a raspy voice spoke from behind you

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear.”

Turning around you saw Hoseok and Athena walking out from where the elevators were nearby. Athena looked almost unrecognizable in comparison to her warrior outfit and smoky make up from the night before. Her short hair was pushed back with a headband and her face much rounder. She was definitely shorter without her heeled shoes and her body type much curvier than what her costume showed. Whilst Athena, Yoongi and Krystal all looked softer without their costumes and make up Hoseok somehow still managed to radiate the same aura from the tribute parade. His form fitting T-shirt and pants (in the same design as everyone else’s) accentuate his lithe build. The tights he wore showcase the definition of his calves and thighs, along with how long his legs were. The definition of his abs could be seen through the black shirt and his biceps were on display. It appeared he didn’t need any bronzing powder or contouring make-up to sharpen his facial features; his high nose and cheekbones were still just as prominent and his jawline just as sharp. He ran a hand through his hair, which was disheveled from not being styled, but somehow still managed to look good anyway.

When you make the mistake of looking into his eyes you can see that there was definitely no make up involved in the intensity of his stare from yesterday, it’s still just as unnerving this morning. The corner of his lip pulls up into a smirk as he sees you assessing his appearance and he has no shame running his eyes over your body.

“Nice of you to show up,” Namjoon grunted, clearly not impressed with the way Hoseok was staring at you again.

“Relax we’ve still got five minutes until we’re officially mean to start” Athena said as she stops beside Namjoon. She strikes up a conversation to try and distract him like Hoseok had told her to do. Why exactly she was following his instructions she didn’t really know, but she didn’t particularly care to upset him at this point so she simply played along. Namjoon was easy enough to engage, all she did was ask him what he had been doing to work up a sweat and he immediately leapt into a description of the circuit he had been training.

Hoseok moved to take the spot between Athena and yourself.

“Morning love,” he whispered under his breath, touching your elbow gently and leaning down slightly in a way that’s only intended for you to hear. You shudder at the feeling of his warm breath ghosting against the shell of your ear and curse your body for it’s unconscious reaction.

He pulls his hand away just as quickly, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention, but wishes he could maintain some form of physical contact. ‘There’ll be plenty of time for that in the arena,’ Hoseok assures himself watching as your cheeks flush that same rose color they did last night. He can’t explain why, but something so simple as your blush makes him feel ecstatic. Oh the things he would do to you to see what else makes you flush that pretty color for him again.

“Hey,” you reply, trying not to break the eye contact out of fear it could be taken as a sign of weakness. He’s tall so you need to look up, but you’re not that short either so it’s not a high angle. You’d estimate the top of your head reaching around his nose if you had to guess.

“I’ve been dying to ask this since seeing you yesterday, but what is an angel like you doing at these games?” his voice is still low, but not as quiet as before, as Namjoon continues to elaborate on his morning work out whilst Athena pretends to care.

“Uh same reason nearly everyone else here is, my name got pulled out the bowl,” you tried to casually respond with a shrug but knew the devastation would have been showing in your eyes. There were some things you just weren’t capable of hiding, and your fear at your situation and imminent death was one of those things. “And you?”

Hoseok frowns and you wonder if you somehow said something wrong but then he softly shakes his head.

“Volunteer,” he states and you swallow with a nod, unconsciously shifting backwards a little. His very appearance is lethal so it really shouldn’t be a surprise at all that he’s signed himself up to slaughter people like you, just the same way Namjoon had.

“Right, I mean you’re a career,” you shrug again looking across at Krystal, Athena, and Yoongi, wondering if they were volunteers too.

“Hey,” his hand was back on your elbow again, he didn’t give a shit if the others saw him. The feelings he was already experiencing towards you had just been intensified immeasurably by the fact you were innocent in these games. He didn’t know how to possibly describe it; all he knew was that from all the words that existed, in all of the languages in the history of mankind, there would never be a way to explain it.

He saw the tremble in your body whenever he looked at you, the shudder earlier when his breath met your ear, surely you had to feel something towards him too. There was no possible way that these emotions he was experiencing could be contained in just one body, you had to be sharing this experience. Was this a ‘soulmate’ that he had only read of before in passing regarding outdated literature? He had never been the kind to believe in fate before, as far as he had trained his whole life to believe, his only destiny was to win the games and bring honor to his family. But as you stood before him, for only the second time in his life, he just knew that you had been preordained for him.

At his age of eighteen he had experienced love in some capacity before, his parents, his sister, a few close friends and a couple of girlfriends here and there but none of those emotional connections compared to you. Surely you would feel the same way about him too, but of course as the poor reaped tribute that you were, you were too afraid to be able to focus on him right now. He was furious you were even here, how dare none of the other female trainees from 4 volunteer to save your precious existence. How cruel the forces of the universe were, for gifting him with an angel only for her to be so close yet still so out of reach. These intense emotions were far too much for one person to ever experience alone, so somehow he must be possessing part of your emotions for him, because you weren’t capable of focusing on anything more than survival right now. His poor defenseless angel, how much you needed him right now.

That must be it. A trial from beyond these games where he would have to earn not just this victory but a way to make you experience your love. There had to be a reason why you were here, it’s because it was for him to prove himself worthy of you. Oh how he wishes you could have met outside, after his victory tour when he went to 4 and he could just pick you from the crowd and make you his. But that would’ve been too simple. Yes, a love like this only came once in a lifetime, he was certain, and he would need to move heaven and earth to somehow save himself and you. But there had to be a reason that the universe had put you together right at this very moment. There had to be a way for him to save you both, and he knew he would kill anyone and everyone who got in his way.

“I promised you last night, I won’t hurt you, and I meant it,” he said, squeezing your elbow – not tight enough to hurt – as if trying to implore you to believe him. His hand felt warm and his hold was firm, shooting a tingling sensation down your spine. You tried to suppress the physical affect his touch was having on you, knowing nothing good could possibly come out of any attraction. You hated just how strongly your body was reacting to him, wondering why the hell he was trying to flirt before he would inevitably try to kill you, and why your body was liking it. But even though you were a tribute, ultimately you were still only human.

“Hoseok, you literally volunteered to kill me, it’s fine,” you began as a small voice internally added ‘well it’s not fine really but that’s besides the point’. A look you couldn’t read flashed in Hoseok’s eyes and he opened his mouth to say something, but you continued on before he could speak.

“I’ve seen enough of these games to know how the career pack works. I’ll help you guys and when it comes down to the end I’ll just try as hard as I can. There’s only one winner and look at you,” your eyes were on his torso because you couldn’t bring yourself to maintain the eye contact as you spoke. The outline of his pectorals and abs that were visible through the fabric of his shirt, compared to your barely toned figure in comparison, did all the speaking in that regard anyway. Looking down at his grip on your elbow, you could see how the fingers on his large hand nearly wrapped all the way around your arm. His own biceps would easily be twice the size of yours.

“Look at Namjoon,” you subtly gestured to your much larger district-mate, “and then look at me.” You weren’t exactly unfit, all the years of physical labor from working on your family’s boat had helped give you some muscle definition, but it was nothing compared to a trained killer.

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not lyi-”

Hoseok’s objection was cut off by an announcement coming from the other side of the room. It was now 10 am and everyone had to attend a briefing in regards to how training worked. Hoseok scowled at the interruption before quickly dropping your arm to avoid suspicion from the others.

“This isn’t over,” he whispered, as you followed with the others to where a dark skinned woman stood in the center of the room. She introduced herself as Atala and ran through the basics of how the next three days would work. Her commentary about dehydration and infection being as much of a danger in the arena as the weapons was particularly interesting to, you wondered if Namjoon had spent as much time on his survival skills as he did on his fighting in the old warehouse back at 4. You doubted it. You also noticed a window on the wall that your back had been facing when you entered the room, where a room of mostly men in suits with eccentric beards and wild colored hair styles were sitting on lounges. Atala introduced them as the game makers who were here to observe, sending a shiver of disgust throughout your body.

Before being allowed to focus on the stations of your choice there was a tribute wide assessment on four of the obstacles: Monkey bars, a fire making station, a memory game (which explained what that strange tablet thing was) and a one on one physical combat match with a Capital trainer. The monkey bars were first and tributes were to perform in the order of their district numbers. You were mildly surprised by how Yoongi went from appearing lethargic to swinging across the bars with ease, but as a career it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Krystal and Athena both had no trouble and Hoseok flew across the rungs twice as fast as the others. You swallowed a nervous lump in your throat when your turn came, feeling the pressure of being in a career district and having all eyes focused on you. Upper body strength had never been your strong point, and you knew the furthest you would probably be able to get was around the half way mark. The girl from 3 had struggled and fallen off nearly immediately but you still didn’t want to fail, especially not with Namjoon breathing down your neck behind you. Back at home you had needed to climb around the boat before in order to make repairs, which suddenly gave you an idea.

Jumping up to reach the bar, you used the momentum to swing your legs through and up onto the next bar in front. Hooking your ankles under you pulled your legs through the gap until you were hanging by your knees. With your weight now more evenly distributed you were able to pull yourself up and awkwardly climb over so you were then on top of the bars. From there you tried not to look down at the long fall onto the thin mat below and crawled your way to the other end before lowering yourself back down when you reached the other side.

“Unconventional, but effective” the person who was responsible for measuring the times and taking notes muttered as they scribbled down something on their clipboard.

“Not bad, spaghetti arms” Athena nodded her approval, her own arm muscles were probably close to the same size as Yoongi’s.

“Gotta know your own strengths and weaknesses,” you smiled back with a shrug. Your time was much slower than the others – Namjoon racing across the other side in a speed to rival Hoseok, right after you were done – but it was still better than not even being able to complete the course at all.

The other assessments were pretty much non eventful with predictable results. You performed decently in comparison to other reaped tributes but were definitely lacking compared to the rest of the careers. You could also detect a bit of rivalry beginning to brew between Namjoon and Hoseok as they tried to one up the other. Hoseok was the faster of the two to light a fire but Namjoon was quicker in being able to solve the memory puzzle. Both of them landed ‘lethal blow’ scores against the capital trainer in their sparring match (you had managed to land a simulated hit of the heel of your hand to the capital trainer’s nose which had counted as an ‘incapacitated blow’ – not a bad score).

With the mandatory grading over you were then given individual feedback along with suggestions on recommended training stations before breaking for lunch. After all the exercise you couldn’t help but feel much hungrier than you had before during breakfast, and helped yourself to a sandwich, along with an apple and a bottle of water from the provided catering. The feedback had been handed out on a card, in order of the district number, before you were dismissed for lunch, and you didn’t pay attention to where 1 and 2 had walked off to. Wanting to be alone anyway you walked around a corridor into an empty hallway and took a seat on the floor against the wall. Leaning back, you raised your knees and rested your elbows on your legs as you scanned across your feedback card. You noted there weren’t any grades or scores, but merely recordings of the time it took for you to complete the activity and a short written assessment next to each. At the bottom were the suggestions for which areas to focus on over the remaining days.

Your evaluation had described you as ‘a dark horse’. The Capital had picked up on the career’s alliance and noted that you were the physically weakest of the six members, however they gave you commendation for unconventional problem solving during the monkey bars. The primary suggestion was focusing on weapons based training in order to stand a chance of survival when the time came for the careers to turn against one another. There was also a suggestion to train more on agility based exercises that played to your existing skills, rather that bothering with weights or physical strength stations that would be impossible to build in such a short time.

“How did you go?”

The sudden voice and presence at your side, whilst you were intently focused on reading your card, caused you to jump and nearly swallow your last mouthful of sandwich down the wrong way. You managed to just catch it with an awkward choke, reaching for your bottle of water to swallow it down properly. To your absolute humiliation, you looked up to see Hoseok standing above you with an amused look on his face.

“Uh, fine I guess,” you muttered, fiddling with the card in your hand as he sat down beside you. “You?”

“As expected,” was all he replied with. You nodded awkwardly. You had seen him perform before you in all of the tasks and sail through each of them with ease. ‘As expected,’ meant nothing less than perfection for him. You couldn’t help but wonder if your death was going to be by his hand, and if that would just be ‘as expected’ for him as well.

“Let me see your card.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words were caught in your throat (much like your previous mouthful of sandwich) as Hoseok easily pinched your card out from your fingertips and passed you his along the carpet in return. Frowning, you picked his up, to at least pretend it was a mutual exchange.

“Did you swap cards with the others?” you asked, wondering why he was interested in your report. You skim read across his, finding commentary about Hoseok’s speed, skill and lethality, along with a note stating him as a lead contender, nothing that you weren’t already aware of.

“Nope,” Hoseok dismissed, lips pursed as he read your card much slower.

You frowned at this, passing his card across the floor and reaching over to try and grab yours back, only for Hoseok to lazily lean to the side away from you, with a hint of an amused smile. You let an annoyed huff of air out.

“So why are you reading mine then?”

At this Hoseok paused to raise an eyebrow and make eye contact with you over the top of your card in his hands.

“Because I don’t care about the others.”

He found the stunned look of confusion on your face to be absolutely adorable.

“But…” you paused, not even knowing what to say. Shouldn’t he at least care for his own district mate? Granted you didn’t care much for Namjoon but you were at least somewhat going along with him for the sake of presenting a cohesive alliance. And if he didn’t care about the alliance then what was he doing here with you? The implication of his statement was quite clear that he somehow cared about you, so what had you possibly done to warrant his apparent attention.

“Why?” was all you could eventually ask.

He lowered your card to the floor and slid it back towards you, leaning across with it. You predictably reached to pick your card back up and he instantly took the opportunity to put his hand over yours. You flinched and attempted to pull back, but his grip only tightened, forcing your hand to remain below his much larger one.

Your pulse began to rapidly accelerate. You knew he couldn’t harm you, not until you were in the arena. But to be alone and so easily caught and toyed with, by someone much more powerful than you, was frightening. You looked up from his hand to his handsome face, trying not to tremble as Hoseok stared back with a lazy smirk in place. The thumb on his hand over yours was softly stroking the skin around your wrist and you could swear your heart was pounding so fast he had to be able to feel your erratic pulse.

“Because I need you to be with me at the end.” His husky voice was a low murmur, as he leaned in closer again. Your hand remained clasped tightly below his

“So you can have an easy kill, because I’m weaker than the others?” you frown, knowing your assessment would have told him as much. But Hoseok was quick with a denial.

“No.”

“Then why?” You pushed, growing frustrated with his indirect answers and your hand still trapped in his. Hoseok only tilted his head to the side and released a sigh, looking highly amused.

“Don’t you trust me? You know I’ve promised not to hurt you darling,” his low voice grew quieter still, barely above a whisper, causing you to lean in so you could hear him better.

“Darling?” You balked at the endearment. Whatever answer you could possibly imagine coming out of Hoseok, it definitely wasn’t that. “Hoseok I don’t know what kind of game your playi-”

“You’re not a game to me.” He cut you off before you could even finish your sentence. Undeterred you rushed to speak again.

“But we’re literally in The Hunger Games and one of us is going to have to kill the other. And you and I both know how much easier it would be for you to kill me, than the other way around.”

“Oh so you find the thought of killing me unbearable?”

He quirked his eyebrow with a smirk and again you tried to yank your hand back in annoyance, but he only moved his grip further up to clasp tightly around your wrist. His long fingers easily wrapped all the way around, as he then pulled your arm back towards him, causing your upper body to lean further forward. Unconsciously you let out a breathless whimper in shock, your faces now so close you could feel his breath fanning across the side of your cheek.

“I… I don’t even know how I can kill anybody. You’re the volunteer here and clearly the better fighter between us so you would easily kill me in a final two,” you whispered, trying to turn your head away from his, only for the side of your face to press against the wall.

“Oh but darling you’re wrong, to kill you would be to kill myself.”

The hand that wasn’t pinning your wrist to the ground moved to cradle the side of your face, his fingers threading into your hair and thumb running along the top of your cheekbone.

“Hoseok, stop.” You raised your free hand to push against his chest, but he was solid as a rock and didn’t even budge. Instead he only curled his torso in towards you, pinning you in place against his body and the wall. You whimpered in fear, eyes scanning the hallway trying to find a way out, only for Hoseok to press his nose against your temple and lips to the shell of your ear.

“You may not even know it yourself but I can feel it in your pulse how your heart calls for me. Every beat I feel beneath my fingertip sings to my own, that already belongs to you. If you were to die, my heart would have no need to beat without the one it beats for.”

His deep voice was a seductive purr as his breath against your ear sent a shiver throughout your entire body. His hold on your face forced you to look back into his eyes once more, which held the same intense passion you had seen in them last night.

“How c-can you even say something like that, it hasn’t even been a day s-since we met?” you choked as you felt tears beginning to sting in your eyes.

“Because I felt it the second I laid my eyes on you, and seeing you again this morning only made me feel a hundred times stronger.

“Please stop, I’m going to be dead in a week so can you please just not turn my life into some sick joke,” it was all you could do to beg as the first tear spilled from the corner of your eye, his thumb below easily wiping it away.

“I’m. Not. Joking,” he hissed, each word punctuated by his fingers burying into your hair and clenching tightly at the roots, causing you to gasp as more tears spilled out.

“You’re hurting me,” you whimpered, the hand on his chest reaching up to try and pull at his hand that was holding onto a fist full of your hair. His grip instantly released, his hand moving to grab onto yours and thread his fingers in between your own, before squeezing tightly.

“Not as much as you hurt me whenever you try to deny me,” he retorted, pulling your hand to his lips to place a kiss upon the back.

“What do I possibly gain from a game perspective to choose you as my final partner? You said it yourself that you’re the weakest so that means I’ll need to protect you from the other four when the alliance turns. And believe me princess, I will. I’ll slaughter every one of them in cold blood. I’ll snap the neck of anyone who so much as harms a single hair upon your head. I’m going to kill them all for you baby, and I’ll make you watch so you can see just far how far I’ll go for you.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” you whispered brokenly, tears spilling freely from your eyes now.

“Because,” Hoseok dropped your hand to grab ahold of your chin as his lips moved in closer. When he spoke you could feel them brushing against yours “you’re mine.”

But before Hoseok could firmly press his lips to yours in the kiss he longed for, a sudden shout broke the atmosphere he had worked so hard to build.

“YN!”

You never thought you’d be relieved to hear the sound of Namjoon’s angry voice barking in your direction, but his appearance around the corner and into the hallway caused you to exhale a long breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

“What are you both doing here?” Namjoon growled, angrily striding towards you as Yoongi, Krystal, and Athena followed behind him.

Hoseok, who had his back turned to their direction, scowled in anger at the disruption, before quickly masking his face to a neutral expression. The sudden change in demeanour causing you to flinch.

“I found this one here having a bit of a breakdown over her report card,” Hoseok said, lazily getting to his feet and shooting you a wink as your jaw dropped in shock at his smooth and blatant lie.

“No! I- I…” You immediately went to protest only for the words to be caught in your throat. It would just be Hoseok’s word against your own. And who would believe you? His words were so insane you could barely even believe what he had just been saying.

“It’s ok YN,” he purred, as the others walked over towards you. You angrily got to your feet wiping your eyes, not wanting to be a crying mess on the floor in front of the whole group. “I was just telling her there’s no need to worry. First day freak outs can happen to the best of us.”

“I’m fine,” you scowled, crossing your arms and glaring at the floor and seeing the damned report card laying on the carpet.

“I just wanted some time to myself and if anything having someone around only made it worse” you bit back.

“Very well then,” Hoseok smirked raising his arms in a mock surrender gesture and waving his hands theatrically. “Excuse me for trying to be a good teammate.”

“I didn-” before you could rip into him, you were interrupted by another.

“Can you all give me one minute to talk to my district partner,” Namjoon grunted at the others. He didn’t bother waiting for an answer, grabbing a hold of the top of your arm and dragging you further back up the hallway. You didn’t know what was worse between him bossing you around since the train ride or Hoseok’s crazy confession, but what you did know was that if anyone else tried to manhandle you again you were going to take your chances on your own in the arena. It had only been one day and you were rapidly growing sick of this alliance. You’d rather die with dignity on your own than be dragged around like a dog’s chew toy.

“Let me go,” you hissed, when you were far away enough not to be overheard, grabbing his hand and ripping it off your arm. Namjoon just rolled his eyes before staring down at you from his tall height.

“What the fuck was that about?” he asked.

For a moment you breathed a sigh of relief. Trying to convince Athena or District 1 about Hoseok losing his mind would be one thing, but Namjoon was your own team mate. You vaguely knew each other from growing up in the same town. Maybe he might actually believe you. Glancing back to the others you saw them chatting amongst themselves, Krystal was now holding your report card and Yoongi gave a dismissive shrug to something Athena had just said. As if sensing your gaze, Hoseok glanced across to make eye contact. The corner of his lip curled up and he cocked his eyebrow smugly as if to say ‘go on and tell him, see if he believes you’. You scowled at him before turning back to Namjoon and grabbing a hold of his arm (missing the way Hoseok’s nose twitched in annoyance at you initiating the physical contact with another man).

“Namjoon, please, you have to believe me,” you began, instantly lowering your voice as you squeezed his bicep imploringly – your hand didn’t even wrap halfway around the much stronger boy’s arm.

“What happened?” he asked bluntly, eyebrows narrowing into a frown.

So you told him. Speaking as quietly as possible and trying to rush through the details as fast as you could, you hurriedly told him about how Hoseok had found you alone and stolen your card, before pinning you against the wall, claiming you were his, and threatening to kill all the others. You finished by telling him how it was only through the rest of the group showing up when they did, that had stopped Hoseok from kissing you.

“It was humiliating,” you hissed out, trying to choke down the lump in your throat that had built up as you were recalling what happened.

“I don’t want to be in the career pack anymore, I can’t do it, not with him.”

You looked up at Namjoon, begging him with your eyes to believe what you had just said.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

You dropped his arm and visibly recoiled as if his words had physically hit you. As far as you were concerned he may as well have.

“Some pretty boy spouts some Romeo and Juliet bullshit so you want to leave the best chance either of us have for surviving this thing? How can you actually be that stupid?!”

You were fuming. How dare he just dismiss what had happened to you like that. You had taken a leap of faith, hoping that as your own team mate he would believe you, and instead he had virtually spat in your face as a response.

“I’m not stupid Namjoon!” You sneered. “The one year my name gets called out is the one year no girls volunteer because they knew that you were going to. If the girls who have spent their whole lives training know they can’t beat you, how the fuck do you think I feel right now? Maybe it’s easier for you because you’ve actually got a chance in these games, but I’m going to die. And none of this is my choice, you actually chose to be here! You were the one who said on the train that you wanted us to join the career pack, so I did! And now I’m the one being harassed, not you! Stop treating me like a child because I’m not just a pawn you can tell what to do until you decide to kill me.”

“If you don’t want to be treated like a child then stop acting like a pathetic fool over the first boy to give you some attention. Do you think your pretty little face is somehow special enough for Hoseok to actually fall in love with at first sight?”

“Of course not!”

“You should be thanking me for pulling your head back in from whatever deluded little fantasy he’s trying to spin. Are you that stupid you can’t tell he’s just trying to divide us so you want to work with him instead of me by the time we get to the end game? At the very least you and I know each other and I guarantee you, in that arena it’s better the devil you know”

You wanted to point out how you were the one to tell him about Hoseok, and clearly were trying to work with Namjoon instead, only for him to berate you, but logic was out the window by this stage.

“Is it? Cause it sounds to me like you’re just keeping me around until you decide to break my neck when it’s convenient for you,” you snapped instead.

“That’s how alliances work sweetheart. You watch my back in the pack to make sure 1 or 2 don’t just slit my throat in my sleep. I drag your ungrateful ass around and make sure you aren’t taken out by some amateur who wouldn’t know the difference between a liver and an intestine. Is that how you want to die? Bleeding out for hours after being stabbed by an untrained idiot and spending your final moments in agony? Would you rather die by someone beating your head in with a rock because that’s the only weapon they know how to use? Let’s see how beautiful you are with your skull smashed in huh. Or do you want to go from starvation or hypothermia because you’re lost and all alone?”

You were absolutely stunned. He was expecting you to just follow him around the arena like a little puppy, where the only incentive for doing so would be his definition of a merciful death? Before you could tell him where he could shove his alliance, your argument was cut off by the approaching voice of Athena.

“I don’t know what kind of little lover’s quarrel you two have got going on here” you could swear you heard a warning growl from Hoseok “but get your shit together. We can’t have infighting in the alliance, especially before we even get into the arena. You,” a point at Namjoon, “stop treating her like shit. And you,” a point at you, “Stop looking like you’re about to cry. You’re a career for fuck sake, a cold blooded killer. Even though you’re obviously not, you at least need to look like one to scare off the other tributes otherwise you’re going to be the lowest hanging fruit they try and pick off first.”

You stared blankly back as Athena kept talking. The other tributes. You had been so preoccupied thinking about Hoseok and Namjoon’s cruelty, you hadn’t even considered your position without them. By now you were established as a career in the eyes of 18 other tributes, regardless of if you wanted to be one or not. From the past years of the games you knew that the other districts would take any opportunity they could to eliminate a career that somehow wound up on their own.

You were completely and utterly ruined no matter what direction you chose to go.

“Hoseok, Namjoon, you two are coming with me to the obstacle course run for a few hours. We need to do some teamwork after you two had your little dick measuring contest before in the graded courses. You two need to do something to make it look like you’re unified because right now because that’s something other tributes can exploit. Krystal, YN, and Yoongi will go to the rope tying station so YN can help us with knots and show off that she’s actually needed in our alliance to the others”

Namjoon nodded curtly whilst Hoseok clearly looked more annoyed at the idea of being split from you and having to work with the Namjoon. However, he quickly covered his expression and nodded as well. Athena gave each of them a shove on the shoulder to get them moving and they walked off out the hallway and back into the training compound.

You took a deep breath, grateful to have a break from either of their presence before looking between Yoongi and Krystal. They didn’t seem particularly interested in you, their sharp eyes and beautiful features were relaxed into a neutral expression that only suggested boredom. That was perfectly fine with you. As a fisherman’s daughter you were indeed well versed in knots and grateful for the reprise which would allow you to spend some time on something you were actually confident with.

“Alright, show me where the knotting station is”

Note: This story was originally a one shot in my mind and has now reached a planned 6 chapters. Aha. I suck.

Ideally I wanted the 'before the games' section to just be one chapter, but found it was starting to get too long after this reached over 7000 words and I still have the other training days, final assessment/grade out of 12 and the interviews with Caesar to cover (those will be in the next chapter, with the games starting in the update after)

The concept of the assessment came from the 1st movie where Atala (the woman who does that ‘in 2 weeks most of you will be dead’ speech in the training centre) mentions a mandatory assessment, so I just worked with an idea from that.

This chapter hopefully showcases more of Hoseok's Yandere nature along with establishing just how much or a horrible character Namjoon is (I swear I'll do a better fic of Namjoon as the lead soon).

#yandere hoseok #yandere bts #bts x reader #dark bts #dark jhope #y!hoseok #hoseok x reader #yandere bts fic #HUNGER GAMES AU #hoseok fic #hoseok au #hoseok x you #yandere jung hoseok #dark bts au #yandere

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dolce-peach · 5 years ago

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Hi! Could you do a Tom Hiddleston x reader where the reader is a director for the Loki series or any upcoming marvel movie and he slowly falls in love with her confidence and intelligence because she is a great thespian and a big marvel geek and they always go over the script together, making them become really close, and at one point he confesses his love for her :)

undeniable

pairing: tom hiddleston x reader

warnings: fluff?

a/n: ofc i had to write about the most charming man ever to exist 😉 thanks anon for the request -- hope you guys like it!! 💗

permanent taglist: @kaitlynmalikisnotonfire @just-another-loki-fanblog

** TO MAKE A REQUEST -- please check the status in my bio **

masterlist

----

When you were asked by Marvel to be the main director for the upcoming Loki series, you couldn’t refuse.

You’d been a fan of the MCU for longer than you can remember. Even though you were a director who made a name for herself despite everything else, you were first and foremost a consumer. You loved how each movie stood on its own and, at the same time, wove together to create a true masterpiece.

Frankly, you didn’t care about the work load. As long as you could give people the Loki content they wanted, that’s all that mattered.

Of course, you were incredibly nervous to work with Tom, mainly because he was one of your dream actors to work with. You’d seen all of his works, from theater to the silver screen, and were always fascinated with his range of expression.

You were completely unprepared for the disarming charm he naturally had.

You decided to meet him in a small cafe to discuss the rough script so far before filming.

You sat nervously in the corner with a couple cups of tea, the script in your bag beside you. You already had in mind what you were going to say and how you were going to act, but that all went out the window the moment Tom walked in.

He wore a white button down shirt, black slacks, and a sweet smile.

“Hi, you must be Y/N,” he said as he held out his hand.

You shook away your awe, getting up to shake his hand. “Yes, nice to meet you!”

“I’m a big fan of your work,” he started, sitting down. “I’m truly excited to work with you on this series.”

You sat down and pushed Tom his cup of tea. “Same here! I fell in love with all of your roles, especially with Coriolanus and your recent work in The Night Manager. I also really enjoyed Betrayal, and your other action movies as well, and...” You stopped yourself. “I’m rambling. Sorry.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “It’s fine. Cute, actually.”

You bit your lip, looking down at your tea shyly. “Anyhow, I have the script here,” you said, pulling the thick packet out. “It’s subject to change, and if you have any suggestions, we’ll take it to heart.”

“Thanks,” he said, flipping through the pages.

You spent the rest of the afternoon going through the script and possible scene ideas. As expected, Tom had some incredible input, but for the most part, he let you have most of the creative reign.

You asked why, watching as he beat you to the bill.

“I have a feeling I can trust you,” he replied. “You’re incredibly talented and aware. It’d be a shame to keep you locked in an artistic cage all the time.”

“I don’t intend to be,” you said quietly.

He pursed his lips. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be!” you said. “It’s refreshing. Most people ask me what it’s like to be a woman in a male-dominated field, so this is a good change of pace.”

“I wish you didn’t have to deal with that.”

You shrugged. “Comes with the job,” you laughed. “Anyhow, I’m glad to be working with you.”

“Likewise.” Tom smiled, nodding as he put his wallet back in his pocket. “So I’ll see you next week for filming?”

“Yeah,” you said, sliding him your card. “If you have any questions or anything at all, you can call my cell.”

You glanced at him shyly as he immediately entered your number into his phone. You jumped slightly, feeling your phone vibrating in your pocket.

“And that’s me,” he said. “Can I give you a walk back, or...?”

You found yourself gaping. He was just as kind a gentleman as people said he was.

“Oh, it’s okay! I have to make a stop somewhere!”

“It’s really no trouble at all,” he insisted.

You felt some heat rush to your cheeks. “Okay.”

The next week couldn’t have come sooner, with the entire set buzzing with excitement. You were a bundle of nerves and adrenaline, walking around to check on the crew and the actors.

You stopped by Tom’s trailer last, knocking as you entered.

“Ah, morning, Y/N,” he said, glancing at you sideways as his makeup artist continued applying his iconic wig.

“Morning, Tom,” you greeted. “I think we’ll shoot mostly some action sequences today.” You looked at your clipboard. “Maybe get some close-up shots if we’re lucky.”

“Sounds good.”

He rose from his seat, donning his revamped costume. To be able to see it in person with your own eyes, you were beginning to realize this wasn’t just a dream anymore.

“You alright, love?”

You blinked, shaking your head. “Yeah, sorry!” You turned to leave. “You look great! I’ll see you on set!”

You buried your head in your clipboard, checking over some last details. Eventually that light feeling of embarrassment left you as you began to organize the first scene.

As soon as Tom walked on set, everyone began to applaud, as did you. There was no question that the entire team were fans of Tom and the character Loki. He bowed graciously, grinning from ear to ear as he walked over to you to receive instruction.

You began to explain what you were thinking of capturing, and Tom’s eyes were filled with concentration, glancing at the set once in a while to get a feel of what he was going to do.

“Alright, so, any questions?” you asked.

He shook his head. “None at all.”

You pat his shoulder before walking behind the camera, checking the angle.

“Action!”

You had no idea how fast time had really flown, even when you were at the premiere in front of hundreds of flashing cameras.

You managed to finish the show a few days earlier than expected, turning a few heads. Anxiety hit when you thought to yourself, “Have I really done everything I could?”

When a few episodes were shown to a test audience, the feedback was immensely positive, proving your doubts to be fiction.

You smiled for the cameras, waving at fans in the back.

“Ah, there she is!” Tom exclaimed as he pulled you over to the interview he was in. “Our fantastic director of the show. The woman you have to thank.”

“I think that’s pushing it a little, Tom,” you laughed.

The interviewer perked up. “Y/N, what was it like on set working with Tom?”

“He has an incredible work ethic, one I can only dream of having,” you began. “There were a lot of tender moments from him on camera as well as a lot of great action sequences, all of which Tom was able to do. I feel like fans will appreciate the turn Loki takes in this series.” You looked up at his towering figure. “He’s also become a good friend throughout this whole creative process.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, love,” Tom said as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, giving you a gentle squeeze.

Once you made it through the red carpet and the interviews, you had a brief moment in the empty backstage before you had to go out to address the theater filled with people.

As you adjusted your mic, Tom came to stand next to you.

“I can’t believe it,” you found yourself saying. “We did it.”

“We did it,” he echoed before turning to you. “Thank you.”

“For what? You’re the star.”

He chuckled. “For being steadfast in this,” he said. “I was a bit nervous coming back to play Loki, but working with you, it’s been the best time of my life.”

“Same here,” you said.

Tom blushed in the low light. “I don’t know how to say this, but with all this adrenaline going, I might as well.” He drew a deep breath. “Y/N, we haven’t known each other for very long, but I can’t deny how much I’ll miss being on set with you. I’ll miss our chats and shared tea. I’ll miss watching you work.”

You had no idea what to say.

“So please forgive me, but I feel like I need to do this.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing over yours in the sweetest instant before they were gone.

You blinked. “What was that?”

“Sorry, I’ll just go --”

You stopped him by turning him back towards you, letting yourself rise to your tiptoes before laying a gentle kiss on his lips.

He laughed, holding you close. “God, I really love you.”

You grinned. “I love you too,” you said. “But really, watching me work?”

He looked away guiltily. “Well,” he trailed off. “It’s a tad bit sexy.”

“Tom!” you exclaimed, feeling your heart skip a beat. “You can’t say things like that!”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll fall in love with you all over again.”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston headcanon #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston dabble #dabble #imagine #fluff #accepting requests #requests open #loki #loki series

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anotherobsessedsomething · 4 years ago

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~ 30 Questions Tag ~

Got tagged by @illicitfuck thank you Rei for thinking of me <3 you made my day you have no idea how much I love tags and answering questions :D

1) name/nickname: Not sharing my real name on here and I also don’t really have a nickname but I use Persephone for writing and stuff so maybe you could say that that is my nickname. (Feel free to call me Persephone on here if you want to :D)

2) star sign: Taurus

3) height: 5′3 / 160 cm

4) birthday: May 6th

5) favorite bands: Måneskin (thanks Rei for already putting them here :P :D), The Rolling Stones, The Bee Gees, Muddy What?, Santana, Rosenstolz, Electric Light Orchestra, BAP, Smokie and a lot more that don’t come to my mind right now :D

6) time: 9:30 pm

7) favorite solo artists: Oh god let me think I don’t even listen to that many solo artists on a regular basis (like in more than just a few songs of them)... okay here is what came to my mind: Lucky Dube, Suzi Quatro, Frank Sinatra, Harpo... that’s all I could come up with sorry :D

8) song stuck in your head: Amandoti Cover by Måneskin

9) last movie you watched: Twilight

10) Dream Trip: Right now I just want to be somewhere at the ocean like Italy or Greece (but somewhere not so touristy because I don’t like people :D) and just chill there and relax. My future dream trip I hope I can do after my graduation in 2 years is going to Botswana for 2 Month.

11) Last Show: Young Royals on Netflix

12) When I Created This Blog: When I started writing fanfictions about 3 years ago.

13) What I Post: Whatever I am obsessed with which right now is Måneskin :D and random thoughts or stuff I like or find funny or important :D Idk I just post about whatever I like :D

14) Last thing I googled: “In which direction to turn your key to open the front door ” (The story behind this: I moved into a new apartment two weeks ago and it’s all new and it has super heavy doors that are so fucking hard to open and after desperately trying to unlock the stupid door for five minutes I wasn’t so sure anymore about which way is the right way to turn the key because neither way worked and I was afraid of breaking the key if I accidently turn it to hard in the wrong direction. End of story: I called my bf almost crying asking if he remembered which direction is the right one and he did and then I tried again with full force and the damn thing finally opened)

15) Other Blogs: None

16) Do I get asks? Sometimes but not many but I’d love to get more so if you wanna ask me anything or talk to me please feel free it always makes me so happy if people want to talk to me :)

17) Why I Chose My URL: Because it’s who I am, just another obsessed fangirl :D

18) Following: 167

19) Followers: Tumblr says 1212 but most of these are bots because if I post something there are usually about 10 people who interact with my posts (unless something goes viral in a tag of course) It’s very annoying because I’d actually like to know how many people are really following me and are interested in my stuff but I guess I’ll just never know...

20) Average Hours Of Sleep: I need 7-8 hours minimum and if I get less than 6 hours I feel like shit

21) Lucky Number: 13, 7, 2, 21 (just numbers I like for whatever reason when I was a teenager 13 definitely was my lucky number)

22) Instruments: None because sadly I have no musical talent :/ I tried to teach myself playing guitar when I was 16 but I failed :D But I am actually thinking of trying to learn an instrument again these days just because I find it very cool to make your own music and it’s just such a nice way to express yourself and tbh also because of Vic De Angelis and her bass :D

23) What Am I Wearing: I just took a bath and just put on some comfy clothes after so I am simply wearing sweat pants and one of my bf’s shirts I stole from him because I like oversized shirts :D

24) Dream Job: Being an actress. It simply is my passion. Right now I am studying social work though (which I like too) but I am trying to do some acting on the side because seriously when I am infront of a camera I just feel like that’s where I belong. I just did some filming in May and June and when I was on set I realized that I haven’t been that happy and didn’t feel that much like myself since years and even if it’s just a no budget movie for now it’s like one step closer to my dream. Also I could totally imagine working part time as a social worker but also doing acting jobs because it would certainly put some pressure off if I’d have a steady income and can just choose whatever projects I like without necessarily having to earn a living with it (not that I’d complain lol) :D

25) Favorite Food: Pasta & Potatoes in any form. :D Oh and Antipasti because I just love having many different dishes to choose from.

26) Tea or Coffee: I drink neither of it regularly.

27) Nationality: German.

28) Favorite Song: Right now Vent’anni by Måneskin (and basically half of their discography)

29) Last Book I Read: The midnight rose by Lucinda Riley

30) Top 3 Fictional Universes I Would Like To Live In:

1. Harry Potter Universe (because we don’t like JKR in this house but we certainly love the Potterverse especially if we can make it so queer that JKR would faint lol)

2. Maybe “Die jungen Ärzte” (= ”The young doctors”) It’s a german medical drama series maybe you could compare it to Grey’s Anatomy just less dramatic and with more happy endings :D anyway I just love that series and the actors and the characters and I’d really like to live in that universe just so I could for once have such caring and nice doctors treating me who’d magically find a solution for my chronic illness just like they always do on TV :D

3. Idk does the kind of fictional Universe where I am friends with Måneskin count? :D

I am tagging: @parva-noctua @ginny-lily @bexfangirlforlife and everyone who wants to do this, no pressure though :)

#this was so much fun #loved it #tag game #tag #thank you again rei

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jebazzled · 4 years ago

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Level Up! Upcycling an Intermediate App

Hello friends and welcome to another unsolicited writing tutorial, aka my bread and butter! Today we’re going to build off of ground covered in my earlier tutorial, Level Up! Beginner/Intermediate/Advanced RP and You.

As always, I’d like to point out that there is nothing wrong with being a writer more naturally suited for intermediate sites! But if you’re looking to write in the more ~advanced or ~literary space, you will need to adjust your writing to fit the community standard. While your writing will likely improve over time as you write with more advanced writers, step one to threading in such a community is getting an app accepted there.

In today’s tutorial, I’ll be talking about how to revise an existing intermediate application to make it more suited for an advanced site. Let’s begin!

As a staffer on an advanced site, the note I most often have for applications that we pend or decline is: this feels very telly.

I don’t mean “telly” as in Telly the Sesame Street character:

I mean “telly” as in extraordinarily expository.

An intermediate freestyle application often looks like a straight-up timeline of a character’s history, delivered without much style or voice. It might feel like a Wikipedia article, or a very long explanation like you might see in a shipper.

I often find that it can help streamline the writing process to write a handful of telling anecdotes, rather than rehashing a character’s complete history, infancy to present. More on that in my freestyle application tutorial here!

But if you’re having a hard time wrapping your head around anecdotal-style applications, particularly if you’re accustomed to application formats that have you write a “history” section as opposed to a freestyle, you can improve upon your current app to make it more suited for an advanced site. It will take some work, and certainly more than ten minutes of it. Writing on a “reach” site can be very rewarding, but only if you’re willing to put in the effort.

TELLING

Before we solve the problem of “telly” writing, we need to establish what “telly” writing is. For purposes of this tutorial, I’ll be using my one application that is a full rehashing of character history. Below is a “telly” take on Sadie Shunpike:

Sadie grew up in a working-class neighborhood of London with her twin brother, Sam. Neither of her parents were very good at magic, but hid their insecurity in the belief that any magic at all made them better than their Muggle neighbors. Sadie and Sam weren’t educated at the local primary school, but were homeschooled by their mother until they could read. From there, Sadie and Sam would check out books from the local library and teach themselves, with Sadie helping Sam.

Sadie was very smart, but Sam struggled more with learning. As they got older, Sadie started to read books she ordered from Flourish and Blott’s, learning about magical theory. Sam started to show signs of magic, which he hid from Sadie. When they turned eleven, it became clear that Sadie was a squib. She resented Sam for being magical, especially when he went to Hogwarts and needed Sadie’s help to do his homework. Sadie continued to educate herself.

Sadie developed an interest in the Dark Arts and got mixed up with Death Eaters in a research and study group she attended at Flourish and Blott’s. One of them promised her a Ministry job and ensured her safety if she acted as a spy in the Ministry for the Death Eaters. Later, she got placed into a safehouse, and began to spy on the safehouse network for the Death Eaters.

This tells you a lot about what Sadie has been up to, but doesn’t tell you much about Sadie, or about my skill as a writer, or about how someone else might expect Sadie to behave in threads. There is no voice, no personality, no interest - just rote explanation.

As a staffer on an advanced site, when I see an app like the above, I know I will be pending or declining the application. The question I ask when making that distinction is: is the character development strong enough to merit working with the writer on the prose? Is the prose strong enough to merit working with the writer on the character development?

If the writing itself or the character development is there, it can make sense to help guide the writer - though this is more the case with character development issues than with prose. Character development can be improved with specific notes and adjustments, whereas generally speaking, improving prose is a gradual process over time.

It is entirely possible that a writer might have much better prose in their threads than in their application! However, your application serves here as a writing sample. which is why it is imperative that it be good writing on its own. I have said it before and I will say it again: I don’t care how much you hate writing apps, lmao! You’ve got to write a good one if you want to do well on sites that use them!

SHOWING

Writing communities are always talking about show vs. tell. Unless you’re writing stage directions, it is always better to show than to tell - or at least, there aren’t enough exceptions to the rule that you shouldn’t be aiming primarily to show.

So how do you communicate a character history without making it too telly?

DESCRIPTION

Here, I’ve described Sadie’s neighborhood as “working-class” and left it at that. What if I went into a little more detail? Explained to you what I imagine when I imagine her upbringing, and shared with you what’s going on in my head between the lines?

In a small, shabby house in a small, shabby suburb, a small and shabby family lives a small and shabby life. Samuel Shunpike, Sr. sells advertisements for the Daily Prophet, tossing a handful of Floo powder into the minuscule fireplace in the sitting room every morning and getting ash on the threadbare round braided rug every night.

This has more flavor, doesn’t it? The repetition of “small, shabby” is a deliberate style choice that communicates an idea of how I write in practice when I’m being ~artsy, and the image of a man in a shabby suit crawling into his fireplace and messing up an already messed-up rug builds Sadie’s father as an NPC that will come into play later in her app. Dynamic NPCs - whose actions impact your character, who are more than wooden cutouts - help build the fictional world of your character’s life. They don’t even need to be vital to playing your character - I’ve never really had anyone in Sadie’s family in play onsite, despite how heavily her brother figures into her character development - but they can be very useful in understanding your character.

DIALOGUE

Ha, irony, that dialogue can make an app less telly! Dialogue gives your reader an idea of how your character interacts with the world in concrete situations, not merely in the abstract. It also helps build the dynamic NPCs that make your character’s history feel more real, and feel like something that genuinely impacted them rather than something manufactured for plot.

While the Shunpikes are nobodies in the circle of wizarding society, Margie and Samuel Sr take comfort in the fact that they do have one thing making them better than the Muggles who live the small shabby lives on either side of them: the Shunpikes are magic. small, shabby magic, but magic nevertheless. "You lot are better than this," Margie says, smoking a pipe on the stoop, gesturing at the sidewalk where children walk to school with their parents. Sam and Sadie don't take their eyes off their Exploding Snap game. It's no use arguing with Margie, they know. When she goes inside, grumbling about Muggle trash, Sam and Sadie train their eyes on the walk outside. The parade of children their age, all wearing matching khakis and polo shirts. "What do you think they get up to?" Sam asks, glancing at Sadie. "Same as us, i imagine," she says, "but probably, y'know, more guided."

This brief vignette tells us a few things:

Margie Shunpike, Sadie’s mother, is mean, and relies on what little magic she has to feel like she has worth

Sam looks to Sadie for leadership/guidance

Neither of these are specifically about Sadie, but having this background information about her mother seen in action rather than merely mentioned will impact how we digest the news that Sadie is a squib. Sam, as a recurring NPC, will inform how we see Sadie develop, and seeing his changing relationship with her will give another metric for the reader of how Sadie has changed.

DETAILS

Details build your world, make it feel more real. When I wrote earlier that Sadie ordered books from Flourish & Blott’s, they could have been any books - they could have been the magical equivalent of ABC “First Concept” books - they could have been magical erotica. Don’t details tell you a lot about a person? If I tell you that Renee Rye Bread reads 50 books a year, what have you learned about her? What if I clarify that it’s 50 romance novels? 50 crime dramas? 50 political biographies?

When Sam and Sadie were younger, Margie would sit them together at the kitchen table and clumsily teach them letters and numbers. Once they could put together sentences and basic sums, she happily stepped back and let them figure it out on their own. On an average day, Sam and Sadie will watch the parade of schoolchildren, finish a game of Exploding Snap or Wizard's Chess, eat an early lunch, and spend the rest of the day doing their best to get an education. Sadie tries the hardest, dragging Sam with her to the Muggle library around the corner to read Muggle fiction and do basic research on whatever catches her fancy. She saves her allowance and coins from doing chores for the neighbors and orders secondhand books from the Flourish & Blotts catalog, poring over wizarding texts and trying to make sense of magic beyond even her parents' meager skill. Sam sometimes gives her his sickles, too. He isn't doing anything with them, and everything makes more sense with her in charge.

These details - what Sadie and Sam’s homeschooling looks like, Sadie’s attitude towards books and learning, Sam’s support in her academic endeavors - are building blocks in your understanding of Sadie’s personality. She is driven, self-directed, curious. She doesn’t ask Sam for his input. She is, perhaps, a little selfish.

DIORAMA

Trying to keep to a “D” theme here for an easy mnemonic device here! What I mean by “diorama” is that even in an app not specifically built around anecdotes it is good to provide a few key slices of the character’s life - a clear window into specific scenes and moments. What strikes you as more impactful: me telling you, “there’s a scene in Heathers (1988) where Veronica’s boyfriend has put a bomb under the bleachers during a pep rally. It’s fine, it doesn’t go off,” or me describing to you: “the gym is full of stamping feet and shouting cheerleaders; no one could hear Veronica and JD fighting under the stands even if they were interested. The bomb is beeping so loudly but no one is paying attention, no one can hear it. It’s a pep rally and everyone is cheering at their own wake.”

Rather than saying:

Sam started to show signs of magic, which he hid from Sadie. When they turned eleven, it became clear that Sadie was a squib. She resented Sam for being magical, especially when he went to Hogwarts and needed Sadie’s help to do his homework. Sadie continued to educate herself.

I went with the below:

In June, Sam is sitting in the kitchen while Sadie makes a solo trip to the library, folding paper airplanes and flying them with no success. After a dozen failures, however, he watches in amazement as a piece of notebook paper folds itself up into a perfect airplane and flies around the room on its own. He's done magic, and he has no idea how. And he keeps it a secret from his parents, but more importantly, from Sadie, who he now knows is not going to be coming with him to Hogwarts after all. Later that week, while the family is tucking into ham sandwiches for dinner, the owl arrives, and Sam's stomach sinks when Sadie proudly carries it from the sitting room window into the kitchen on her forearm. She unties the letter from its leg, looks at the front of the envelope, grinning. Samuel Sr and Margie see a shadow pass over their daughter's face for half a heartbeat before she slowly hands the envelope to her brother. But Sam sees it all: her smile cracking like broken china, her eyes widen just a little, the furrow in her eyebrow. He catches the hitch in her voice as she congratulates him. He senses her anxiety in the lightspeed jiggle of her left foot under the table, as he stares at the letter, unable to make sense of the words, as worried as he is about Sadie. She excuses herself early, and Samuel Sr and Margie exchange a look, as if they've forgotten Sam is there. Sam doesn't know what any of them were expecting, but it wasn't this. The next few days, during which Sadie does not speak to him at all, are the longest of his life. Then, one morning, as he sits at the kitchen table having a silent breakfast with Samuel Sr and Margie - who are still flabbergasted to have a squib in the family - she comes down the stairs from their shared attic bedroom. She sits across from Sam at the table as if nothing has happened. She helps herself to a slice of toast from the stack on a plate in the middle of the table, and takes a piece of bacon off Sam's plate. "Since i won't be going to Hogwarts as expected," she says, folding the toast to make a sandwich and taking an enormous bite, "I'll need to arrange for a more formal education.” She swallows her bite and pours herself a glass of orange juice. “I’m happy with our current method of self-directed study, of course, but - i intend to supplement it with the odd lecture or class audit in the city.”

We get a few things here:

Sam’s anxiety/guilt about being the magical one, a dynamic that informs how Sadie will use him later

Sadie quickly hiding her actual emotions and performing fake ones, which comes up later when she manipulates people at the Ministry and in safehouses as a spy for the Death Eaters

Sadie’s decision making, which doesn’t allow room for input, feedback, or disagreement

Think of your favorite books and characters. If a novelist gave you a quick description of a character in one paragraph, you wouldn’t feel the close connection to them that you feel after reading even just a few chapters of them acting, reacting, interacting. Of course we don’t have as much time for that in an app as we do in a novel, but there’s a happy medium between the shallow understanding we get from pure exposition and the deep one we get from 50,000 words and a hardcover.

IN PRACTICE: HOW DO???

So we’ve got our intermediate app. We’ve got our Four D’s: Description, Dialogue, Details, Diorama. We’ve got an advanced site we are lusting over.

How do we Frankenstein this all together?

STEP ONE: REREAD YOUR ORIGINAL APP

Give her a look. Get the basics in your head. Think about how you might be able to repurpose this writing for your shipper. Because, hey! It’s already done! And at least in my experience on advanced sites, shippers are a TL;DR for your app, so a quick expository jaunt through the highlights fits the bill just peachy.

But you’re not going to be able to work from that app directly for version two, okay? Be honest with yourself. How much do you ever revise things? Because this isn’t a “change a word, add one (1) sentence,” project. This is an overhaul.

Like I’ve said! Going from intermediate to advanced is HARD WORK!

STEP TWO: GET WRITING

Start writing that app from scratch. Think about the Four D’s.

If you’re approaching this as a straight history of your character, have at it wherever you want to get started. But before you move on to the next phase, address your Four D’s.

Susie was a difficult baby.

STOP! Give me the D. Was her nursery hyperfeminine? Did her nannies gossip about her parents behind their backs? Was Susie a fussy baby, or was she sickly? Show me her cold and distant mother awkwardly holding her before passing her off to her father!

If none of these D’s feel important to this phase of the character’s life: don’t include it in the app! A character history does not need to cover every minute! You can just hit the important phases, and you should! Believe me: staff usually do not want to hear about how mom and dad met each other unless it actually has a major bearing on Susie’s life!

Once you’ve given the moment its due (Due, the fifth D), move on to the next, and consider the D’s every time.

STEP THREE: REREAD & REVISE

Before you submit your app, give it another look. You’ve likely done a lot of character development between your original application and the fully-overhauled version. Is your characterization consistent? Do your character’s motives make sense? Have you left any gaping holes in their story? Look back at your shipper, especially if you used your original application to build it out. Does it align with the new application? What edits do you need on the shipper to have it describe the same person as your app?

STEP FOUR: PROFIT

Obviously, as with anything else, your mileage may vary. It might take a few tries, or even a few different characters to land on something that works for an advanced site. But the practice of implementing the five D’s - and keeping them in mind subsequently as you post with and develop your character - will be instrumental in growing your abilities as a writer, and isn’t that what this is all about? Wishing you all the best in writing as in life - let me know how you’re doing, and what other tutorials you’d like to see from me. Cheers, and happy writing!

#rp guides #resources #writing resources #rp writing #applications

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petersasteria · 5 years ago

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Can’t Go Back (Epilogue) - H. Osterfield

DISCLAIMER: *This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*

Summary: Harrison is getting married to a different girl and Tom isn’t happy about it.

Pairing: Haz x Reader

Requested? Nah my dudes.

Masterlist / 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / Epilogue

* * * *

Five years.

It's been five years since that incident at the park.

Five years since Harrison's wedding that didn't push through. Five years since Betty decided to let Harrison go. Five years since Y/N left, not only Harrison and Tom, but also her fiance. Five years since Tom left.

It's been a rough five years for Harrison. He wasn't used to being alone. However, he did have his family and that was important. It made him really thankful. Him and Tom aren't on speaking terms, but they still like and comment on each other's posts on Instagram and sometimes, Twitter.

Harrison isn't dating anyone, because he's working on himself and his career. He figured that when the time is right, he'll meet someone unexpectedly. But right now, he's alright without seeing someone. He realized that he didn't need another person to be happy or to be complete. Having a partner will just be a bonus.

Harrison kept in touch with Betty and he was even invited to her wedding. She met someone on a cruise to the Bahamas and they fell in love instantly. Harrison was very happy for her... genuinely happy. Now, Betty and her husband are expecting their first child together with Harrison as the godfather.

After breaking up with Timothee, Y/N moved out of their shared home and moved back to her own apartment. Timothee didn't take it well at first but when she told him that she didn't choose anyone, it made him accept why she was leaving. Besides, he didn't want to get married either.

But he did love her.

They also remained friends and their parents were not happy with the decision they made. But they didn't care, because they were happy.

Tom had everything until he didn't.

He lost his best friend and the love of his life. They completed him. His career was doing great and his family is alright, but he can't help but wonder how Harrison and Y/N are doing.

Of course, he's sort of up to date with Harrison through Twitter and Instagram, but that wasn't enough. He hasn't been talking to Y/N, because she changed her number again.

He wanted to see them. He wanted to see them so bad. He wondered if they ever did get back together. It's been five years after all.

Well, what he didn't know is that he'll finally get what he wants.

"Thank you." Tom smiles at the cashier and walks out of Lacoste with a big paper bag in hand. Quite fancy, but he decided to treat himself after wrapping up in shooting his latest film. He went through so much, mentally, and he wanted to give himself a little gift for pushing through. So, he bought himself two shirts and a pair of shoes.

While walking, Tom pulls out his phone to check if he has messages. There weren't a lot of people and he was thankful that so far, no one is interrupting his 'me day'. As he's scrolling through Instagram, his phone pinged and he sees a name from his contact that he never thought he'd see again.

Haz hey mate I can see you walking lmao I'm across the street

Tom looks up from his phone and looks across the street and sure enough, there stood his best friend who he hasn't heard from or seen in a long time. A smile slowly makes its way to both of their faces and Harrison waves at him in glee. Tom does the same thing.

It was truly a wholesome moment.

Harrison quickly crosses the street and stands in front of Tom as soon as he did. They engulf each other in a hug and they sort of teared up a bit. They pull away after a while and just smile at each other.

"Before you say anything," Harrison starts, "I know I'm too late, but it's better late than never. Tom, I'm sorry. I really am. What I said back then totally crossed the line and it was obviously not cool and I hope you forgive me."

"Of course I forgive you, you div!" Tom chuckles. "It's been five years. Yes, what you said really hurt me, but if you think you'll get rid of me like that, you're wrong. I got you and you got me; it's always been like that."

Harrison smiles, "That's great! So, want to catch up? There's this new restaurant and I thought you might like it. I haven't been there, though. I always told myself that I'd go there with you."

"I'd love to catch up with you." Tom grins as both of them walk to where the restaurant is.

The two men talked and laughed together as if nothing happened. They didn't care about the people around them who were looking.

All of a sudden they get interrupted by a small voice, "Wow, you're Spider-Man!"

Tom and Harrison stopped talking to look at the little boy standing next to Tom's chair. Tom smiles and says, "Yeah, that's me! What's your name, lil guy?"

The kid didn't answer though, because someone familiar answered Tom's question without them knowing.

"Sebby! What did I tell you about running from me like that?" a familiar voice says.

Tom and Harrison look at the direction where the voice came from and their heart stopped. It's Y/N. She looked more gorgeous than ever. She walks up to where they are and her heart stopped too.

"Oh, long time no see." she gives them a small smile. "Sorry if Sebby bothered you guys. He saw you and he just... ran."

Tom clears his throat, "Um, that's okay."

"Do you, uh, want to sit down... with us? We were just catching up and we'd love for you to join us." Harrison says softly, looking at the girl he once loved and still loved.

"If you don't mind? That'd be great." Y/N smiles, pulling a chair for Sebby to sit on before pulling the chair for her to sit on. The two men allowed Y/N and Sebby to order their food before they look at each other in silence.

"I take it, you want answers?" Y/N breaks the silence. Tom and Harrison look at each other and nod.

"Last time we checked, you didn't pick anyone but yourself." Tom says.

"Or maybe you have someone new?" Harrison says. Although it came out as a question more than a statement.

Y/N chuckles, she looks at Sebby and asks if he wants to color. The little boy nods happily as she pulls out a coloring book and some crayons from her bag. Sebby wastes no time and begins coloring.

Y/N looks at the men and smiles, "He's not my son. Well, technically he is. But I didn't give birth to him. I'm not dating anyone and I don't want to. Sebastian came into my life unexpectedly. He was just two months old. Someone left him at my doorstep and they left his baby bag and documents and a note that said 'please take care of him for me'. From then on, it's just been me and him."

Harrison nods, "That's... wow. He's adorable, though."

"Yeah, I agree." Tom smiles.

The three of them smile at each other and they begin to ask more about Sebastian. The kid was happy to hear that the two men with them are his uncles and wanted to spend every single day with them.

Harrison didn't get the happy ending he wanted with Y/N and that's okay, because he was contented being her friend again AND being Sebastian's uncle which is a bonus.

Tom didn't get to make his friends get back together like he wanted, but he did find himself someone special. She wasn't and could never compare to his first love, but she's amazing and loving. Tom loved her very much.

As for Y/N, Sebastian was her whole world and Tom and Harrison were there to help her raise him every time she's needed at the hospital. Her family wasn't there to support her, but that's okay. She had a new family now and she promises that she'll be better than her own parents when it comes to raising Sebastian.

All three of them knew that things weren't going to be like they were before, because now they're better versions of themselves and they'll go on new adventures to make new memories.

And they loved how everything turned out to be and they wouldn't have it any other way.

-Fin-

* * * *

Thanks for the support on this x

Taglist: @sweetdespairbarnes @fanficparker @myblueleatherbag @justasmisunderstoodasloki @lcvelyparkers @tommysparker @allegra-soleil

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield one shots #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield fanfiction #harrison osterfield fanfic #harrison osterfield fic #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x y/n #haz osterfield #haz osterfield one shots #haz osterfield imagine #haz osterfield fanfiction #haz osterfield fanfic #haz osterfield fic #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield x y/n #in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh

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ask-de-writer · 5 years ago

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 37 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 37 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

//////////////

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

///////////////////////

Mord did not know what to make of what he was seeing and hearing. He was aboard the deadliest craft that he had ever heard of, and her commander, was crying — — — For enemy dead. He felt guilty about the thoughts of a few minutes before. Putting his arms about her, he held her until she calmed. She parted from him gently and sat him on one of the big cushions next to her.

Getting a grip on herself, Sula said with a cold rage, “When we find who did that to Kurin, I hope that we can take them without loss. If we do have to sink them, I will put them on the bottom without a tear. I have my sailors making inquiries to see if we can find the ones responsible.” Mord was glad that ferocity was not directed at his ship.

Mord seated himself and said, “We also have inquiries under way, as does the Council and a number of ships that are friendly to us.”

The problem of finding evidence solved itself. A young deck-hand of the Grython was brought in late that night, with the symptoms of Ord poisoning. His case was not as advanced as Kurin’s and he responded well to treatment, at first.

“Off with your shirt,” Dr Worran ordered him, intending to see if he still had the strength and coordination to do it. Wordlessly, the young man struggled with what should have been a simple task. The Doctor helped him, observing his eyes and respiration at the same time.

“Where did you get that inflamed patch on your right chest?” she asked him urgently.

He shook his head as if having trouble speaking, then mumbled, “Dunno … It itched a little, but it stopped.”

Doctor Worran picked up his shirt and felt something long in the right pocket. She removed it from his pocket with long tweezers. She applied a thin paste to the point and washed it off carefully.

She burst in on Sula and Mord, holding her find carefully in the tweezers. “Look what I found on that young man who just came in! I’ve a mind to let him die.”

Mord looked with horror at the Ord spine, revealed for what it was by the ugly greenish brown left by the testing paste. It was neatly mounted in a handle. It looked like an ordinary sail maker’s awl. “What ship is he from?” was all that he said, as he carefully looked over the lethal tool.

“The Grython,” answered Doctor Worran.

Mord said thoughtfully, “I would not have expected that. The Grython has been fast friends to the Longin for many Gatherings. We need to talk to this man, if he can still speak.”

They went quickly to the sick bay. Doctor Worran pointed out the inflamed area of right chest. “He was carrying the spine uncovered in his right shirt pocket. The poison worked through the fabric and his skin.”

“I see,” said Sula. “He probably did not know what he was carrying, then. I wonder how he got it?”

The sailor struggled against unwilling muscles to turn his head towards them. His voice was almost inaudible, and he was clearly fighting for the breath to speak at all, “I won it on a dare. A pair of sailors bet me a whole Selked-made sail stitching kit that I couldn’t poke the awl into Kurin’s lunch unseen, for a prank. I didn’t know it would hurt her. When I heard what happened, I took the awl from the kit and started to come here. I didn’t make it. I’m sorry.”

“You did well. Who were they?” asked Mord. “What was their ship?”

“I don’t know for sure,” he husked. “I saw one them in the Grandalor’s booth earlier. I did recognize the other, but didn’t realize who he was until too late. He was Silor Elon. I don’t know where he is now.” It was a grim and angry pair of Captains who headed topside. By now the sun was beginning to rise on the eastern horizon.

Mord told his Craft Masters what had happened and added, “This perfidy must be reported to the Council. Who will go with me?” Every hand went up. Master Juris asked to look at the awl.

“There is Selked’s mark. That means that he made this aboard the Grandalor,” he pronounced like it was a doom.

Chapter 12a: Flight of the Grandalor

“Dark Iren devour those fools!” Barad raged. “Nobody will believe that we tried to stop them. We will all swim for their idiocy! By the time that the Council finds their mistake, they will have to send their apologies by way of Iren’s Orcas!”

Mister Timms paused in his duties long enough to agree, saying, “As many of us was involved in one way and another, Sir, I’m sure that you’re right. Many inquired about the Ord and many more worked in the experiments. Best we give the Council time to cool down before we try to explain.”

All about him the crew was quietly and efficiently preparing the Grandalor to get under way. Tanlin was at the small floating dock, greeting each boat and speaking quietly to the new arrivals as the crew inconspicuously came aboard, a few at a time. Occasionally, a boat left the ship with a few folk on it.

Moonlight glittered across the water, pursuing little Dorac over the horizon. All about them, only the stars and the running lamps and masthead lights of the sleeping Naral fleet provided any light. It would be six hours before swift little Dorac rose again, followed shortly by mighty Wohan. Six hours of darkness. Six hours to flee for their lives.

Without tocsins or shouted orders, cables were slipped from the anchorage float and sails were set as silently as the wind allowed. As she began to move, her masthead lights and running lamps were extinguished, one by one. Following the constellation known as the Sea Hawk, the Grandalor raced SSE through the darkness under all of the canvas that she could fly, with no lights showing, straight away from the sleeping Gathering.

As soon as the last of the masthead lanterns of the Naral fleet fell below the horizon, Barad wrote an extensive Log entry and took out his Three Dragons set.

Tanlin, who had just come off duty as First Officer of the Second Night Watch, relaxed into the cushions of one of the cabin’s chairs and looked on with interest.

“W’at’re ye doin’, Luve?”

“Trying to save our lives and our ship, in that order. I have entered the whole true account of Kurin’s poisoning into the Log. It cannot save me. Unless we escape the fleet, I will die for Kurin’s murder. It may well save you and others innocent of the killing.”

“T’at’s a good t’ing t’at ye’re doin’, m’ ‘Eart — — ‘ow’ll T’ree Dragons save us?”

“I have broken the course rose into seven possible tacks. The dice will tell us which way to go. If white lands on a number less than fifty, we hold course for an hour and roll again. Whichever of these two dice eats the other gives us the course to follow, from this table. He held up a tallow-slate with a neatly made table on it. If neither one eats the other, we split the difference for our course. We exclude only courses that we know to be dangerous.

“Roll the first one, Tanlin, and pray to the Dragons that it’s a good cast.”

As the dice rattled in the cup Tanlin thought, ‘E knows t’at ‘e’s doomed. Even i’ we go t’ t’e Arrakans, t’ey won’t shield ‘im from murder, so w’at does ‘e do? ‘E still t’inks o’ gain an’ loss but now ‘is t’ought’s for t’ose close t’ ‘im an’ ‘is crew. ‘Ow many in ‘is place wad do as much? Few. Nane t’at Oi can t’ink o’. An’ Oi married ‘im! Pride swelled in her heart as the dice bounded clattering about the board and came to rest.

They leaned over the board together and she put an arm about his waist. He absently stroked her hair and put an arm around her as he read the fall of the dice.

“Dragon eats skelt, seventy three.” He consulted his chart and figured the correction for the present course in his head. “East-North-East. That will take us across the fleet, just out of their sight.” As he straightened, she wrapped her other arm about him and gave him a spontaneous kiss.

“So close? Shall Oi t’row again?”

“No. A better course could not have been chosen. If there is pursuit and I am sure there will be, it will make us hard to see because of the glare of the early sun. It also cuts back and across our track. Any trying to find us by following our course will be thrown off as well.”

“Oi’ll take care o’ t’e corse change, Luve. Ye’ve ‘ad a ‘orrible day. ‘Ow long do we ‘old ‘t?”

“Seven and a half hours.” He looked down at her for a rare unguarded moment. Why did it take so long to find you? I know that Teralat would have liked you. The memory of his long dead wife hadn’t hurt since he’d realized that he actually respected Kurt— no, Tanlin. He now knew for certain that his feelings had become more than respect.

“Aye, seven an’ a ‘alf ‘ours. So, seventy t’ree? T’e forst digit’s t’e ‘ours an’ t’e second’s t’e minutes by tens?” she questioned as she set the water clock to time the tack.

“Yes. You know, I married you for more than your stunning good looks.”

“Oi know. Ye got t’ose t’.” She flipped her fall of hair saucily as she left. Arriving on deck, she became a First Officer.

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS NEXT==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #Part 37 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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hongism · 6 years ago

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finding beauty in your darkest places - chapter 1

Pairing: TBA (we’ll see where this takes us lol - let’s just call it OT7xreader for now)

Genre: Psychiatric Clinic!au, Heavy Angst, Some Fluff

Word Count: 8802

Warnings: deals with mental and emotional illnesses and disorders as a heavy theme of the story, future graphic depictions of disorders - please do not read if this makes you uncomfortable

Rating: PG-13/Mature (nothing sexual, but it deals with heavy themes)

Summary: Everyone has their issues, and everyone deals with them differently. Jungkook thinks that avoiding his problems is the best option out there.

aka

Jeon Jungkook is the newest patient at the Omelas Specialized Psychiatric Clinic, and he just wants to get in and out as quickly as possible so that he can go back to university and be with his friends again. Of course, that doesn't work out according to his plan.

also! this idea came out of nowhere and i kinda just ran with it. we'll see where it takes us! lemme know if you like it and if you'd like to see it continue! also, i am very curious as to what you think each person has in terms of disorders, if you have any idea thus far! i really only insinuated it with three or four people, but i'm very curious about what you guys think so let me know below!

Note: please know that nothing in this story is meant to be a glamorization of any disorder, this is meant to be a real approach and depiction of these things, and i did a LOT of research prior to writing this about every disorder mentioned so that i was careful about what i wrote about each one. I am trying to be as knowledgeable as possible in terms of the content written within this story. I do not intend to glamorize any disorder within this story whatsoever.

Again, as I mentioned earlier, I did a lot of in-depth research before writing this work, and I continue to do more research with every chapter I post. I truly try to be as accurate as I possibly can by reading articles, watching videos, and doing other medical research in order to write this with as much knowledge as I can. The last thing I want to do is incorrectly depict something as serious as a mental or emotional disorder.

That being said, some things contained within the story are altered or distorted from the truth, including the nature of the clinic the story is based in for the purpose of plot and characters. Note that I am not a psychologist, psychiatrist, or anything close to either of those things and that this is a work of fiction at the end of the day.

Chapter:

1 | 2

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Finding Beauty in Your Darkest Places

Chapter 1: Jeon Jungkook?

The white room suffocates him. Of all places to be, this would be the last on his list, because he knows that behind the white door with the small rectangular window lies a number of unknowns. They know he hates the unknown, despises it and fears it with every fiber in his being, yet they still throw him to the wolves like this? It was supposed to be a warning, a mere threat, but now he’s sitting here in this cushionless white chair alone. One duffel bag in the seat beside him and nothing else.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

He lifts his head at the sound of his name, a crisp voice calling it out through the stiff silence of the whiteness around him. The door he has been dreading since he set foot in here now lies open, a young woman—you, L/N Y/N, he would later find out—in the frame, wearing clothes he would not have expected a nurse to wear. Also behind the door, however, is a man who seems quite a bit older than you, and he bears the pale blue scrubs Jungkook was expecting to see. The man sends Jungkook’s heart through his stomach, but the cold stare of the you imbues a strange sense of dread. He stands up, trying to ignore how his legs quiver as he does, and wipes his palms against the fabric of his grey drawstring sweatpants. You tap your foot against the white tile floor, piercing eyes glancing over his form, then place a hand on your hip.

“I’m assuming that’s you, since your voice doesn’t seem to work?” Jungkook chokes on his breath.

“Y-Yes, sorry, um, yes. I’m the new patient?” He balls the fabric of his pants into his fist.

“I know that. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be saying your name.” Jungkook tries to blink away the stinging sensation in his eyes and bites down hard on his lower lip. This is exactly what I was afraid of. “Relax, kid. I’m messing with you.” Your voice softens, and when Jungkook dares to bring his gaze back to you, you wear a more sympathetic and relaxed expression. “That’s how they treated me when I got here, but having been in your shoes, I know how hard it is. We’ll have to check your bag and belongings before I take you in, okay?” You walk closer to him, tapping your nails against a wooden clipboard. You blink at Jungkook as though waiting for something. “Permission granted?” Comes the question when he still says nothing.

“Oh, yes! Yes, sorry, I didn’t think you would ask,” Jungkook says, before adding hastily, “for permission, that is.”

“Right, gotcha. I’ll let him—” you motion over your shoulder to the man dressed in scrubs “—pat you down since you seem...nervous. Ah, right, he hates introducing himself, but that Nurse Kang. He doesn’t like being called anything other than that.” You drop your clipboard on the chair beside his duffel bag, and Jungkook shifts his gaze from you to the nurse — Nurse Kang, that is.

“Um…”

“The pat downs are part of protocol, so no, you can’t avoid it. But you should at least know his name before he basically feels you up.” You slide a coy smirk Jungkook’s way. The heat rises up his neck before he knows it, and you laugh at the expression on his face, whatever it may be.

“Stand over here, arms straight out.” He does as asked, facing Nurse Kang as the man searches his pockets for anything out of the ordinary. “Turn around.” When Jungkook faces you, your eyes watch him instead of the duffel bag in the chair. Well, to be more specific, you are analyzing Nurse Kang as he does his work. “No drawstrings, kid.”

“Huh?”

“You’ll have to take the drawstring of your sweatpants out,” you explain, finally turning towards his duffel bag. “The clinic doesn’t allow any object that could be a potential harm to any of the patients inside. Out of courtesy for your fellow patients and insurance of the utmost safety for all people within the clinic, you are asked to remove any such object from your being prior to entering the premises.” You speak with a cadence, a playful one, as though you’ve heard the statements a thousand times.

“Anything can be used as a weapon,” Jungkook argues. You spin on your heel, sending a pointed look at him, and shake your head. The playful gleam drops from your eyes, leaving Jungkook to stare into a cold brown color.

“If I were you, I would avoid saying anything like that once we’re inside. You have to understand this: the people inside have different issues, different brains, different wirings to their mentalities and emotions. Even saying something as simple as that could be a potential trigger for them, and it is highly recommended that you keep your mouth shut for the first few days so you can learn about your fellow patients. Safety is the most important thing here, then comes recovery. Understood?” He wouldn’t imagine arguing again when you’re speaking in such a serious tone.

“Yes ma’am.” Jungkook starts yanking his drawstring out, sighing as he does so because dammit these were brand new pants.

“Oof, no, don’t call me that. It’s weird, okay?” You cringe as though your whole body detests the word. “Pretty sure we’re close in age, I might even be older. I don’t know: I’m not allowed to see your file.” Jungkook places the drawstring in Nurse Kang’s awaiting hand with a huff.

“You’re good to go. Miss L/N, you’ll bring him in when you finish?”

“Yes, yes, I will.”

“You know the rules.”

“I’m not going to harass anyone, Kang.” You plaster a grin onto your lips as you face the nurse, who bristles at the way you say his name. “I’ll follow the rules. I’ve been here long enough to know them by heart. Besides, why on earth would I try anything with the receptionist right there?” You point at the lady behind a glass barrier that Jungkook spoke to when he came in initially. Nurse Kang rolls his eyes at your attitude. “See you later, Nurse Kang!” He ignores your pestering in favor of leaving through the door he came in, dropping Jungkook’s drawstring in the trash as he goes.

“What did he mean by that?”

“By what? The rules? The doctors were supposed to go over those when your parents agreed to ditch you here.” Jungkook opens and closes his mouth. “Sorry, was that insensitive?”

“No, I mean, yes kinda, but that wasn’t my question. Why does he have to ask if you know the rules?” You pick up Jungkook’s duffel, tossing it at his chest with no shortage of force. He coughs when it pegs him but catches it nonetheless. “What was that for?”

“For asking too many questions, newbie. Another thing you should know: don’t ask other patients about anything personal without asking if you have permission to do so or if they tell you themselves. Common courtesy of the clinic.” You snatch your clipboard off the chair, scribbling something on the paper there. Jungkook blinks at you again, examining your outfit of sweatpants (also without their drawstring) and a t-shirt.

“May I ask you a question then?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“What are you?” He inquires, and you scoff.

“Human, what are you?” You squint at Jungkook. When he shows no signs of laughing or even slight amusement, you purse your lips. “I, like you, am a patient. I’m not a nurse, and that’s why I don’t have permission to look at your files, so I don’t know what you have or how old you are, your tragic backstory — I know nothing except your name. Is that all you want to know?”

“If you’re a patient, then why are you doing this and not someone like Nurse Kang?”

“Because, Jungkookie — can I call you that?” You interrupt yourself with a smile.

“Um, no?” He denies, even though he suspects you’re going to call him that no matter what.

“Anyways, the clinic is special and unique for many reasons. One of those reasons is that it allows patients to pursue and do things that make patients feel less like prisoners and more like people. This includes helping induct new patients since it’s simple, easy work. So, I get to do fun stuff like this, and it’s best if patients give the clinic tours because we know all the secrets and best places in the clinic. You’ll learn more as you get settled in, and things will start making more sense in time. For now, why don’t you follow me, and I’ll show you around a bit before a nurse comes to snatch you away?”

“Please tell me that’s a joke,” Jungkook requests as he trails after you. He has never set foot on the other side of that white door with the barred window. All his previous visits consisted of staying in the waiting room or in the head doctor’s office, which is outside the area to which he heads now.

“Haha, of course it’s a joke, Jungkookie. Do you not have a sense of humor?”

“Apparently not one as morbid as yours,” he mutters under his breath. If you hear the comment, Jungkook doesn’t know because you make zero acknowledgement of it. Instead, you wait for him to cross through the threshold of the door, then let it fall shut with an echoing thud. Chills go up his spine as soon as it slams, the air around him dropping in temperature. You must notice the expression of discomfort that crosses his features, because you start up another conversation.

“Have you ever been to a clinic before?” The newfound warmth in your tone eases some of the anxiety growing in Jungkook’s gut.

“Uh, yes. Actually I’ve been to three others before this,” he admits, eyes trailing along the walls of white on either side of them. The confession causes his cheeks to burn with shame, as though the notion that three other doctors and inpatient facilities couldn’t help him is his guilt to bear. You motion towards the hallway, and he falls into step beside you.

“Wow, only three? How old are you then? Must be young if that’s the case.” Jungkook exhales a laugh, not out of amusement, rather out of disbelief. He welcomes your sudden desire to comfort him and make him feel more at ease.

“I’m turning 21 this year. I, uh, had to drop out of university for this, so I’m kind of hoping it’ll be my last one.”

“Damn, Jungkookie, here I thought you were younger than me.” Jungkook tilts his head to the side, glancing at you with mouth open and ready to ask the question of your age, but you cut him off before he can even begin to speak. “Anyways, what’re you in for?”

“Pardon?” The question catches him off guard in the worst way. Clenching his fists, he fights the sensation of tingling that starts on the left sigh of his head and trickles downwards. “What do you mean?” The rapid pace of his breath interferes with the words, and even with the chilly temperature, he senses a bead of sweat forming on his temple.

“Oh, hey, hey, sorry for asking. You good?”

“I’m fine!” he insists, although the white walls blend into one mass, and you turn into two people as his eyes start losing focus. Dammit not now. Get a grip. Can’t do this already, cmon.

“Right…” You don’t push the topic, which Jungkook supposes he should be grateful for, but it sends his brain further into a frenzy and convinces him that he has to justify his reaction.

“It’s anxiety, I’ve got anxiety. That’s all though.” You hum then click your tongue against the roof of your mouth. A pop resounds through the hallway. You stop walking to squint at Jungkook. He fidgets under your gaze, unsure as to what your reaction is supposed to mean.

“Bull—” you poke his shoulder with your index finger “—shit. Do you know the name of this clinic, Jungkookie?”

“Um, yes, it’s the Omelas Specialized Psychiatric Ward.”

“Exactly, and do you know what kind of patients Omelas takes?”

“Ones that need inpatient treatment?”

“Incorrect.” You tap his arm again, this time with much less force. “This is a specialized psychiatric clinic, meaning that any and all patients are admitted here because they have more than one disorder. So, that means that there is no way you can be here unless there are other things you’re dealing with.” Jungkook clears his throat. “I’m not saying this to be mean, Jungkook, and unless you’re a pathological liar, it would be best if you stick to telling the truth. If you want out any time soon, then honesty really is the best policy here.”

“Okay, I understand.”

“By the way, I have a question.” You take a step back, eyes lighting up.

“Please don’t ask about my disorder again,” he pleads, close to begging at this point because his heart rate still hasn’t returned to normal.

“No, no, no. I won’t ask again. Next time we talk about it will be because you want to, deal? That’s not what I want though. Um, do you have any cigarettes?” He almost thinks you’re joking and laughs aloud, but you blink up at him with a deadpan expression. Zero shame or embarrassment. He swallows, eyes narrowing, and hesitantly asks,

“Is this another one of your jokes?”

“No, I’m being serious this time.”

“I don’t have any cigarettes.”

“Vape pens? E-cigarettes?”

“No and no. All of those are bad for your lungs and health.”

“Oh great, that sounds too familiar.” You rub your forehead. “The last thing we need is another Yoongi.”

“Another who?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Miss L/N, you’re late to your appointment!” You and Jungkook both look down the hall where a woman in a set of blue scrubs stands, hands curled into fists and pressed against her sides. “How many times do we need to have this conversation? I said 9:00 sharp!”

“You said that would be tomorrow because of the new patient? I don’t have an appointment scheduled for today.” You shake your head, disbelief shining through your eyes as you confront the nurse across from you.

“Incorrect, Miss L/N. Plans changed. Need I remind you again?”

“Ah, you know how it is, Nurse Irene.” You maintain a smile even in the face of the nurse’s frustration, tapping your temple as though sharing some secret information with the woman. “I’ll head that way right now though. Please take care of Jungkookie for me, Nurse Irene!” You don’t stop to say goodbye to him; instead, you walk down the hallway and out of sight without another word, and once again, Jungkook finds himself alone with another unfamiliar face.

“You must be the new patient?” Nurse Irene asks, meeting Jungkook halfway down the hall. He nods in response, shifting his grip on the duffel bag, and keeps his gaze glued to the floor. “Well, I have a patient to tend to, but I will take you to someone who can show you around before I go. Follow me.” Doing as asked, he walks behind her, watching her short black heels click against the tile. “Did Miss L/N explain the basic rules within the clinic?”

“Um, no, but I heard most of it when my parents and I met with Dr. Choi.”

“Well that’s good, at least. I’ll explain some of the basics, and then I’ll leave the rest to your fellow patients. They can help you figure out the rules that aren’t so important, but must be adhered to nonetheless.” The stiff and cold tone brings a scowl to Jungkook’s lips that he hides from the nurse by scratching his nose. “Understood, Mr. Jeon?”

“Yes,” he replies.

“Yes what?”

“Yes ma’am.” The words hiss between his teeth, whistling through the air and leaving all the contempt and bitterness there for Nurse Irene to hear.

“Good. Now as for basic rules, here are just a few. You are not allowed to leave the building unattended unless showing high improvement in terms of your condition. Even if you do show high improvement and have approval from a specified staff member, you are not allowed to leave alone, meaning that another patient — also approved — must go with you. Otherwise, you can leave the clinic if accompanied by an assigned nurse. The number of times you can leave all depends on your condition and improvement. You must already know, but family members can visit once a week if they so desire, as long as it falls on a Sunday. All phones call must be monitored. You are free to walk around the clinic as you wish, but there will be certain areas that you may not have access to. This includes treatment rooms, meeting rooms, and other patients’ bedrooms. Questions thus far?” Jungkook lifts his chin at last, finding the surroundings to be quite different now that they are no longer in the long hallway.

“No questions, ma’am.” He peers around the open area, and the cloistering sensation of a typical psychiatric clinic breaks into his mind. The tingling of some unknown melody touches his ears, and for a second, Jungkook thinks he really must be going insane because he can’t find the source of it. The white on the walls has faded to grey but remains dull and monotonous still. If not for the color and the overwhelming steel bars over the windows, Jungkook would guess he’s in some person’s home, what with the couches and chairs strewn about. Tables that seat four, six, eight — the room, although large, leaves a boxed-in sort of feeling in Jungkook’s stomach. Despite all the available seating, no one fills a single place.

“This is our recreational living area. You have access to this area all hours between curfew. You can do whatever you like here. We have board games, card games, puzzles, books, magazines, and many other things. If none of that is your cup of tea, I’ll show you to our other amenities. If you look out this window as we pass, you’ll see we have a full basketball court for when you need fresh air. Then on our left, you’ll see our entertainment room, which includes TVs, game consoles, a piano, and two acoustic guitars. Oh, and one of your fellow patients happens to be here too.” Jungkook leans through the door frame, scanning the room, and finds the source of the unknown melody. There, sitting at the piano Nurse Irene mentioned, is a man whom Jungkook can only see the back of and whose black haired stands out in sharp contrast to the pale tone of his skin. Nurse Irene keeps walking, but Jungkook hesitates there, the melody transfixing him and holding him to his spot. The right hand of the player pauses in the air, and he tilts his head towards the door. Panicking, Jungkook ducks away and hurries after Nurse Irene before the man can catch sight of him.

“Now, to continue with our rules, Mr. Jeon, you should know that you will have a daily schedule that will include your medications, appointments, and any sort of group activities. Other than those things, you are free to do as you please around the clinic. Curfew is 11:00, meaning you must be back in your room by then. Breaching curfew will result in undisclosed punishment.”

“What the hell…” Jungkook whispers to himself. He speaks up a moment later, curiosity biting at the edges of his thoughts. “Um, Nurse Irene? How long do patients typically stay?”

“That all depends on the patient, Mr. Jeon. Usually, no one leaves in less than a year because of a willingness and a drive to continue treatment. Although rare, we have had patients leave in less than a year, but I wouldn’t say that they were fully treated when they decided to leave. Some, of course, do not put effort into getting better or improving, so they end up staying a long time. Others suffer greatly and tend to struggle with progress because of the combination of their disorders. We currently have two patients who have been here for almost six years now, but that’s the longest anyone has stayed.” Nurse Irene’s voice drops in volume. Her previously cold expression alters, morphing into a frown along with downcast eyes.

“Who are they?”

“That information is not my business to disclose. If you wish to know, then you may ask the other patients. Do keep in mind that it can be a sensitive subject. Those two patients have seen people come and go for six years, making friends only to have them leave later. It’s not easy.” Jungkook nods, finished with his questioning. Over a year? I’ll be so behind in my classes by then. Yugyeom and Mingyu will have moved up by then and I won’t be able to have classes needed for my major with them if that’s the case...God, am I gonna lose my life and my friends? He presses the heel of his hand to the spot between his eyes where a piercing pain arises. Nurse Irene just keeps walking and talking without a clue.

“We offer classes for all patients, seeing as most of our patients are at an age where they will be missing some form of school. You are not required to go to any, but we do recommend it. We’ve reached our last amenity, and this is where I will leave you. It’s our library and reading area. You’ll have access to all the books here and can take them out of the reading area so long as you check them out before you leave. Go ahead and follow me in, but give me a moment to speak to the patient inside.” The blue of Nurse Irene stands out now against the dark, rich brown of the bookcases that line the walls, as opposed to earlier where the grey and blue blended together. Jungkook takes in a sharp inhale at the sight of all the books. He should feel claustrophobic here, yet he finds himself more intrigued by the person within the library.

Though sitting down, Jungkook can tell that the man is tall based upon his long legs and how his head stands only a few centimeters shorter than the back of the chair. He seems well put together at first glance, certainly not someone Jungkook would expect to see in a place like this. When Nurse Irene clears her throat to announce her presence, the man looks up, a pair of thick framed black glasses over his eyes. The brown of the shelves around him makes his skin seem darker than it is in actuality, but even so, his skin is a deeper tone than most. He reaches for his face and dips a finger through the spot where a lens should be.

“Nurse Irene.”

“Mr. Kim, this is our newest patient—”

“—for whom Y/N is responsible for, correct?” He interrupts. Y/N? I wonder if he means the person who brought me in… Nurse Irene presses her lips into a fine line. “So where is Y/N?”

“Miss L/N is attending a pre-scheduled appointment at the moment. I have a patient to tend to, thus I am leaving the new patient with you so that you can finish showing him around and explaining the rules.” Pre-scheduled? That isn’t what Y/N said… The click of the nurse’s heel reaches Jungkook’s ear as she taps her foot against the floor. “I’m going to assume that you have no complaints and will do as asked. Thank you, Mr. Kim.” She turns on her heel as the man stands up, setting his book on the seat behind him.

“Of course, Nurse Irene.”

The nurse brushes past Jungkook as she rushes out the door. He watches her walk around the corner and disappear before bringing his focus back to the library. The man — perhaps not much older than Jungkook himself — wears a similar set of sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt, which gives Jungkook the idea that it must be a common outfit among patients here.

“Hello, you must be Jeon Jungkook? Y/N mentioned your name a few times.” He cocks his head to the side. The swell of panic rises in Jungkook’s gut, his throat threatening to collapse on itself before he gets a chance to speak. What had you said about him? What do you even know about him? “Don’t look so stressed, please. She just told me your name and that you’re the newest patient. I’m Kim Namjoon, one of your fellow patients.” The man extends his right hand. Jungkook blinks between the outstretched arm and Namjoon’s face, finding a soft grin on his full lips. The stark contrast between your greeting and Namjoon’s hits hard, but rather than inciting a sense of panic, Namjoon’s smile allows his heart to calm a bit. Jungkook grabs hold of Namjoon’s hand with his own trembling one. He attempts to hide all the signs of panic overwhelming his being by grinning back, but based on how strained and awkward it feels, he’s not sure he did a good job of concealing it. “I hope Y/N wasn’t too cruel to you. She lacks a filter sometimes and will say whatever comes to mind.”

“No, no, she was fine. I was a bit surprised and don’t do too well with new people, so…” Jungkook trails off, unsure of what to say because he would rather not throw you under the bus in front of Namjoon. The grin shifts into a slight scowl. Panic arises, and Jungkook tries to justify his words, but Namjoon speaks before he has the chance.

“She was mean, wasn’t she?”

“No! I promise she wasn’t.”

“Was it her humor? She thinks she’s funny, but honestly, her jokes are pretty much solely insensitive.”

“No—I—she’s hilarious.”

“Oh god, did she make you say that?”

“No, no, I—” Jungkook cuts himself off, a huff of air passing through his open mouth, “—I was trying to be nice, that’s all.” The smile returns to Namjoon’s features, a slight half turn to one side of his lips.

“You don’t have to do that. I won’t be offended if you admit that she was a little rude, because I know how she is. We can keep it between us though; she might get salty if I call her out for acting that way.” A heavy hands falls onto Jungkook’s shoulder, and he brings his chin up to look at Namjoon. “It may be a bit difficult to adjust at first, but I genuinely believe that you’ll enjoy it here, place and people both. Come on, I’ll finish showing you around and introduce you to some other patients.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles, bringing his bag to his chest and keeping it in a tight grip there. “Would it be alright if I asked you a few questions?” Namjoon laughs upon hearing the question. He motions for Jungkook to follow him out the door and responds once they’re back in the white hallway.

“Let me guess: Y/N told you not to inquire about anybody’s past or issues.” Jungkook shifts under the stare Namjoon directs at him, then offers a small nod to confirm his assumption. “Well, I am more of an open book than she is, so I’d be willing to tell you a bit about myself, if that’s what you are interested in. Otherwise, I can answer whatever questions you have about the clinic.”

“Well, all of that sounds nice actually, but I don’t want to pry or try to snoop around anyone’s personal life.”

Namjoon hums, hands pressed into the pockets of his sweatpants, then speaks, “Kim Namjoon. Age 23. Born September 12th. Majored in writing and literature at an online university. I read a lot, but I spend most of my free time writing and composing music. Hidden passion of mine. Good?”

“Um, y-yea.”

“How about you tell me a bit about yourself while we walk around? I’m assuming Irene showed you most of the amenities and such already, so we can simply wander in search of other patients for the time being.” The lump in Jungkook’s throat swells further, and despite not having any food in his stomach, the contents there still threaten to spill forth onto the squeaky clean floor. The overwhelming focus on him and his life sends waves of distress over his body. Brushing a few strands of wavy hair off his damp forehead, he clears his throat as though it’ll change the panic rushing through him.

“Ha, uh, well you already know a lot a-about me. Jeon Jungkook. 20 years old. Born Sep-September 1st. Yea, that’s all.” Namjoon sighs, refusing to elaborate on his thoughts about the response Jungkook gave. Does he think I’m weird or crazy? Probably crazy...can’t even function in a normal conversation. Dumb, stupid, idiot. Cmon Jungkook. Get it together. “So, uh, the nurses—do they all act like Nurse Irene?”

“Oh?” The question must catch Namjoon off guard, but he doesn’t reveal it with his expression. “No, not all of them. Irene prefers to have perfect control over everything here in the clinic. The other nurses and patients try to steer clear of her because of that. Not all of them are as bitchy and commanding as she is, but some of us are used to her behavior because we’ve been with her for quite some time.”

“We currently have two patients who have been here for almost six years now, but that’s the longest anyone has stayed.”

“She mentioned that...that two patients have been here for a longer time than anyone else?” Jungkook pushes an inquiry into the end of his statement, the uncertainty surrounding Namjoon’s reaction taking precedence over anything else. “Not that it’s any of m-my business, I’m just—well nevermind.”

“No, she’s right. Two patients have been here for six years. Well, five years and nine months, to be accurate. The identity of those two people isn’t important though. I mean, what good will knowing do?” Namjoon doesn’t care to look at Jungkook, but the younger feels the heat behind the words nonetheless. Blood rushes to his head as embarrassment takes over, and he regrets introducing the topic.

“Sorry, you’re right. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“One thing to know about your fellow patients: people talk when they want to and when they feel secure in a situation or a relationship with someone. I haven’t asked you about why you’re here in the first place, have I?”

“No.”

“I’m grateful you haven’t asked me that question either, but even if an inquiry seems harmless, it could prove uncomfortable or disconcerting to another person. We have to watch our words with great caution around here. It took me a long time to get into that habit. Y/N struggles with that concept too, but I would advise not learning from her.”

“I understand.”

“You don’t have to treat me like a nurse and answer with such rigidity. I’m just trying to look out for you. I know how hard it is to adjust to this kind of situation and lifestyle, so it would be incredible if I could make it a bit easier for you to handle.” Warmth strikes Jungkook, and he blinks up at Namjoon, who smiles with his dark brown eyes more than his lips. “Why do you seem so shocked?”

“To be honest, I wasn’t expecting much from anyone here, nurses or patients or doctors. The previous clinics and inpatient facilities I’ve been to...no one was like you. Everyone was there for themselves, and they didn’t who they had to step on to get out the quickest. I didn’t make friends in any of those clinics, because no one wanted that. Personal relationships were a completely separate entity.” The rant spills from his lips without thought, inhibitions leaving him in that brief moment before they rush back like a tide. Jungkook presses his chin against the top of his duffel bag, still maintaining the tight clutch he has on it.

“Even if some here seem a little rough at first, you’ll find that they all care about the people around them, no matter who they are or how new they are. Y/N too, she just...well, I don't know what excuse to give for her, but she’ll come around.”

“How many patients are here? Dr. Choi never mentioned it when we met.”

“Fourteen, now fifteen with you here. The nurses always say that they don’t want to exceed twenty patients at a time, since that would take away from treatment possibilities, so I guess we have a rather small clinic. I can’t compare it to another clinic; this is the only one I’ve been to, but I’ve read articles on other inpatient facilities. We’re rather lucky to have Omelas. It focuses on quality of life for the patients, which I’m not sure is the focus for other ones.” It’s not, Jungkook thinks. He opts not to vocalize what is on his mind, however, finding comfort in his own silence. The ease of listening to Namjoon talk is something new to him, but it calms some of the anxiety threatening to choke him still. “You mentioned that you’ve been to other clinics. Would it be alright if I asked how many?” Jungkook keeps staring ahead of him as they round a corner. The tinkling of music hits his ears again.

“Three. None of them were great, and two were overcrowded with patients who just dealt drugs and swapped medications right under the nurses’ noses. I’m hoping for a better experience here.”

“I promise Omelas will be better than that. We already beat out two of those clinics, right?” A huff of air passes through Jungkook’s lips. Namjoon pauses his movements outside the entertainment room Jungkook saw earlier, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of the person inside. “Ah, we better not interrupt.” Namjoon clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the pop echoing through the hall, and motions for Jungkook to keep moving. “You’ve already seen this part right? What about the kitchen and eating areas?”

“Nurse Irene didn’t show me that part. Um, who was that playing the piano?” Jungkook jogs to keep up with Namjoon’s long legs and quick feet.

“Him? He's another patient, Min Yoongi.”

“The last thing we need is another Yoongi.” The words you spoke to him earlier ring in his head, and Jungkook does a double take, whipping his chin back to catch a glance of the man at the piano one more time.

“Not to pry, but is there some sort of bad blood between him and Y/N?”

“I swear, kid, every time you say “not to pry”, you pry.”

“S-Sorry, nevermind, um we can change the subject.”

“No, it’s okay. As far as I’m aware, there is no bad blood there, and there’s never been.”

But the way Y/N talked about him...Y/N sounded annoyed. I guess it’s none of my business though.

“Hey, Joon!” Jungkook snaps his attention forward, a surge of cold rushing through his body at the sound of a new voice.

“Mingyu!”

Mingyu? The stupidity of Jungkook’s hope is laughable, because how on earth would his friend be here of all places? And how would Namjoon know him? No, the face before him shares no resemblance to the person Jungkook knows so well. His hope dissipates as quickly as it came, leaving him with an empty sensation.

“Jungkook, meet Mingyu and Yesung, they’re patients here too. Guys, meet Jungkook.” Jungkook presses his lips into a thin smile as he looks at the two newcomers. One, a tall man with lengthy limbs, cradles a basketball under his arm, and a few droplets of sweat cling to the strands of hair across his forehead. The other stands a bit shorter than his companion but shares in the sweat on his brow, chest heaving a bit.

“Hey, you must be the newbie.” The one carrying the basketball sticks a hand out for him to shake, and Jungkook takes his hand, trying to match the force of the handshake. “I’m Mingyu. Sorry we aren’t in peak condition to be introducing ourselves; we were just out playing a one on one match at the court. Yesung here thinks he won.” Mingyu shares a lopsided grin with the person next to him.

“I did win, fool.”

“Oh ha ha, we’ve got a cocky one over here.”

“Respect your elders, Mingyu,” Namjoon cuts in, a laugh trailing after the words.

“Yea yea, I know. Say, Jungkook, you don’t happen to play basketball, do you?” Mingyu tilts his head to the side, a smirk playing at his lips as he shifts his grip on the basketball.

“Uh, I-I used to in middle school.”

“You ought to join us for some matches. I mean, you seem like someone who works out a lot.” Something constricts in Jungkook’s chest. He squeezes his bag closer to his body, fighting the chill that runs down his spine, and clears his throat. He doesn’t dare speak again, because he’s certain that if he attempts to do so, anything that comes out will be garbled nonsense and embarrass him further. Instead, he forces a few nods to Mingyu’s satisfaction. “Well, see you around, newbie. Take good care of him, Joon.” Mingyu slides around Jungkook, shoulder bumping against his right one, but Jungkook blocks the brunt of the hit by pushing back. Air rushes through Mingyu’s cracked lips, a noise akin to a laugh seeps out, and he says one more thing in passing before disappearing around the corner. “Wouldn’t want to lose anyone again, would we?” The question means nothing to Jungkook, but he catches the way Namjoon stiffens, his spine straightening as he glares over his shoulder at the man who leaves. What happened? What did he mean by that, and why on earth did it make Namjoon so upset?

“Don’t let him bother you too much,” Namjoon says after a heave of breath. He rubs the skin on either side of his nose, eyes squeezed shut. “Disrespectful kid with too big a head on his shoulders. He’s always been like that.”

“That’s the kind of attitude I’m used to honestly.” Jungkook shrugs, hoping that Namjoon drops the topic. He does, and Jungkook thanks him silently before they move on, leaving the incident in the hall behind them.

“Here we are.”

The area bleeds white, causing the people who occupy it to stand out even more. Jungkook looks to his right first because the people catch his eye more than the contents of the room. Conversation ceases, eyes find Namjoon and Jungkook, silence envelopes the circular table where four people sit. There are three similar tables staggered nearby, all sharing six similar plastic chairs. Namjoon redirects his attention by placing a hand on his shoulder, and he tugs him to the left rather than going towards the table full of people.

“You should have access to the kitchen at all times, unless the nurses tell you otherwise, but the staff prepares meals for everyone three times a day. The main purpose of this is for patients to be able to prepare snacks and stuff when they need to since meal times are set in stone. Typical kitchen utilities: oven, microwave, stove, fridge, toaster. You can sit at the bar counter at any time, unless we’re all having a meal, then everyone has to sit at a table.” Namjoon motions over the counter. The group of people who sit at the table closest to the counter maintain their stares on Jungkook, curious eyes driving a churning sensation to his gut. “And you get to meet even more patients. You must be lucky; most of the time, everyone is spread out and hard to find.”

“I wouldn’t call myself lucky,” Jungkook mumbles, turning his head so that only Namjoon can see his lips move.

“I’ll try to make it easy for you,” he replies, “I promise. Hey guys!”

“Hi Namjoon!” A boxy grin and crescent eyes fill Jungkook’s visions as one of the people jumps forward, leaning across the table to get a better look at Jungkook. “You must be the new patient. I got so excited when I heard we were getting someone new, and even more excited after they told me that we would be roommates!”

“Uh, this is—”

“Taehyung! Kim Taehyung, age 21. This is going to be my fourth year here at the clinic, and they tell me that’s because I get too distracted with other stuff instead of focusing on my treatment. And you?” The barrage of information throws Jungkook for a loop, and he struggles to follow along with the speed at which Taehyung is speaking. He blinks at the older man for a few seconds after he finishes speaking. Namjoon saves the day and steps between Jungkook and the counter, blocking Taehyung’s line of sight.

“Tae…”

“Oh! I forgot again. You always remind me, but this happens every time doesn’t it? I’m sorry! I got too excited because I finally get to meet my new roommate.” Taehyung backs away from the counter, teeth digging into his lower lip as he hangs his head and takes a seat again.

“Tae, could you please introduce the others for me?” Namjoon’s words flip a switch in Taehyung’s demeanor, and the man straightens in his seat, the rectangular grin returning to his lips in the blink of an eye.

“Sure! I’d love to! This is my best friend, Jimin, Park Jimin—” Jungkook only notices the hunched over man when Taehyung leans out of the way, and he offers a small wave in greeting, which Jimin returns without looking him in the eye “—who’s the same age as me. Then this girl with the short hair is Eunbi, and the other girl with longer hair is Miyeon.” Jungkook passes a similar way to both the girls. Eunbi returns the gesture with much gusto and a broad smile that flashes her teeth, whereas Miyeon nods at him.

“Hi! Welcome to the clinic,” Eunbi beams from her seat. “I hope you enjoy it here. I know it’s difficult to transition into a place like this, but if you need any help, feel free to ask!”

“Thanks,” Jungkook mutters in response, swallowing after he speaks, and the sound that follows seems so loud that he worries everyone heard it. “My name’s Jungkook. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

“Jungkook?” Taehyung’s eyebrows shoot up, and he glances between Jungkook and Namjoon. “Are you the one Y/N was supposed to help earlier this morning? If she was supposed to show you around and stuff, then...where is she?”

“Nurse Irene mentioned an appointment? I’m not quite sure though.” Namjoon folds his arms over his chest then shrugs.

“Appointment?”

“Um, the nurse—Nurse I-Irene—she told Y/N to go to an appointment before she could show me around.”

“No, no, no. That’s not right.” Jungkook draws his lower lip between his teeth, unsure what to say in response to Taehyung’s denial. “No, Y/N wasn’t supposed to have any appointments today. She even asked me yesterday to remind her that it had been moved. It’s supposed to be tomorrow, that’s when it was moved to.”

“Probably a last minute appointment then,” Namjoon reasons.

“She’s been doing well. There shouldn’t be any last minute appointments.”

“You can ask her when you see her later. Now, have you guys seen anyone else around?”

“I saw Chaeyoung go to an appointment,” Eunbi answers, pressing her elbows against the table. “Um, Hyewon was in the entertainment room earlier with Yoongi, but I didn’t see anyone else.”

“Ah, well, I guess you’ll have to do with not meeting everyone yet, Jungkook. You can meet the rest at lunch or dinner if they show up. Sometimes appointments and meetings cut into eating hours.”

“Jungkook, do you want me to show you the room? Since we’ll be roommates, that is? I can show you where it is and which bed is yours, if-if you want.” Taehyung fidgets in his seat and pressed his hands under his legs. Jungkook hesitates, unsure of what to do, but Namjoon nudges him with his elbow as though to encourage him to go along with it.

“S-Sure, yea, sure. That sounds good. I’d like that,” he rambles. His agreement pleases Taehyung though, because the man abandons the plate of crackers in front of him in favor of joining Jungkook in the kitchen and tugging on his arm.

“Cool! The nurses spent most of the morning cleaning it and making it perfect for the new patient, I mean, for you, since you are the new patient. They even woke me up early to start cleaning. I bet they’re almost done by now! Cmon, I’ll show you the way.” Before Taehyung has the chance to pull Jungkook away, the younger shares a glance with Namjoon.

“I’m gonna chill with Yoongi in the entertainment room for a bit. I’ll be back later to help you out if you need me, Jungkook.”

“Ah, thanks.”

Jungkook follows Taehyung as best he can without being dragged along, and once they reach another long hallway, Taehyung releases his arm.

“By the way, how old are you? I’d say you seem a bit younger than me, but I’m terrible at guessing age. Most people here are younger than Jimin and me.”

“I’m 20, turning 21 this year.”

“Wow, I was right! You are younger, although not much.” Taehyung links his hands behind his back, nodding as he laughs to himself. “So, since we’re gonna be roommates, we should maybe get to know each other a bit?” Jungkook stops breathing for a moment, fearing the worst out of Taehyung’s inquiries. “What kind of things do you like to do in your free time?” An exhale of relief follows Taehyung’s question, and Jungkook lets a relieved smile cover his lips before answering with a bit more ease to his speech.

“When I was at university, I majored in film studies and had a minor in music. I played lots of intramural sports on the side, anything from swimming to wrestling, just for the hell of it.”

“What a coincidence! I majored in film studies before leaving for treatment.” Taehyung laughs, eyes disappearing behind his eyelids as he grins, and Jungkook can’t help but to laugh back, if only because he’s grateful that he’s found someone similar to him here. “I’m glad we have something in common. That’ll give us lots to talk about whenever we have down time!”

“Yea...I’d like that.”

Taehyung points to his right all the sudden, making an indiscernible noise as he does.

“This is our room! Hehe, “our”, that sounds weird to say. I’ve never had a roommate in all the time that I’ve been here. The nurses are still tidying up, I guess.” Taehyung leads the way into the bedroom that vaguely resembles a hospital room. In fact, Jungkook would be willing to bet that the modeling of the room was taken directly from a hospital, because the layout so closely resembles one now that he stands inside it. “Hey, where’s my bear?” Jungkook quits looking around the room, redirecting his attention towards Taehyung, whose smile has fallen. It takes a moment for him to realize that Taehyung isn’t talking to him but the two nurses near the beds.

“What do you mean, Mr. Kim?” One steps forward, her heels clicking against the floor much like Nurse Irene’s did earlier.

“The bear. My bear. The stuffed bear that I always keep on my bed. It’s from someone important to me. I know it was there before I left the room earlier. I checked fifteen times, because I had to keep resituating him!” Taehyung’s voice climbs in volume, and Jungkook recognizes the descent into panic as his chest begins to rise and fall with accelerating speed.

“I don’t recall seeing it,” the other nurse explains, keeping his voice at a steady medium in the face of Taehyung’s loud one. “We might’ve taken it when we stripped the beds and cleaned them. It might be in the laundry room.”

“No!” Taehyung steps forward, about to get in the face of the male nurse. “You have to find it now! Immediately! You have to!”

“Mr. Kim, please—”

“Please, it’s important and special and I need it. I need it. I have to have it.”

“I understand that, Mr. Kim, but I need you to listen to me right now. Let’s calm down a bit first, okay?”

“No. Nope. Not happening. I am not calming down!” Taehyung pushes the nurse to the side, hands gripping the sheets on the bed in front of him. “You did this wrong too! This isn’t how I do my sheets. I told you before how I like to have my sheets!” He tugs at the white fabric, yanking and pulling in attempts to tear it off the mattress, clueless to the people around him.

“We put everything together in the order that you like and followed your instructions when doing so. It’s all put together the way you like.”

“It’s not. I would know. And you lost the most important thing!” Taehyung releases the sheets to grip his chestnut brown hair instead, tugging at the wavy strands with enough force that Jungkook thinks he might start ripping chunks out. A mirror, just like a mirror.

“Mr. Kim, did you take your pills this morning?

“No, because things weren’t in the right order. I have to take them with the yogurt at the end of my meal, but no one brought yogurt this morning. It makes me antsy, and I can’t take them if it doesn’t follow that order.”

“I understand, Mr. Kim, I understand. Why don’t we go get your pills and some yogurt, have a small meal and talk, then we can go look for your bear? Does that sound good?” Taehyung drops his hands to his side but keeps clenching his fists over and over. Is this some sort of sick joke? Why would they pair the two of us if not for that reason? Of course, one good step forward means ten bad steps back.

“Okay, okay. Yea, I need to calm down and clear my head. Need things to make sense again.” Taehyung swallows roughly, squeezing his eyes shut but they no longer resemble the soft crescent Jungkook noticed when he smiled earlier. The male nurse directs Taehyung out of the room, not acknowledging Jungkook in the slightest. Taehyung doesn’t do anything either, which leaves Jungkook with a bad taste in the back of his mouth and alone in a room with another stranger. The female nurse starts working straight away on fixing the mess Taehyung made of his bed and strips it to the mattress before beginning again. She must notice Jungkook standing by the door in silence, because she speaks to him in a quiet, even tone.

“Your bed will be the one closest to the window. Please know that Mr. Kim might be a bit difficult to live with for a few days, at least until you get to understand him better. We didn’t have another room for you to stay in, Mr. Jeon. This was the best choice.”

Jungkook doesn’t move an inch until the nurse finishes making the bed and walks out the room. Once he is truly alone for the first time, he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from breaking down.

Bag hits the floor with a resounding thud.

Springs creak as he sits on the mattress.

Stiff, sterile scent of fresh linen in the air.

And nothing else.

He blinks at the empty bed across from him, a few wrinkles still visible from where Taehyung tried to tear them off. The speed at which Taehyung flipped from calm to panicked scares Jungkook a bit, despite the fact that he has seen similar things in the wards and clinics he stayed at before. The sight of brightness leaving Taehyung’s eyes and being replaced by something else was new though. Jungkook didn’t spend any time trying to get close to anyone in previous wards, stayed to himself as much as he could aside from group sessions. Taehyung wore a kindness and softness that Jungkook didn’t recognize, but the character that came after the switch flipped was something all too familiar to him.

...

written by: moonlightlino

p.s. i am very curious as to what you think each person has in terms of disorders, if you have any idea thus far! i really only insinuated it with three or four people, but i'm very curious about what you guys think so let me know below! ~(￣▽￣)~*

consider sending me a ko-fi!!

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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theunderdogwrites · 4 years ago

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Green Lives Matter

My favorite Halloween costume from my childhood (age 10) was The Hulk.

For three reasons:

1. I made it myself

2. I wore it two years in a row

3. It made my outside look how I felt on the inside – tough but complicated

I cut up an old pair of jeans to look as though my tiny legs had busted through the seams and to make it appear like I’d grown taller. I took an old white dress shirt and shredded the sleeves to symbolize my biceps exploding in rage and slightly shredded away the length. I put black (safe) spray paint in my hair and painted my legs, arms and face in Hulk green to complete the look. There is a photo of this masterpiece somewhere in an old album, I just don’t have access to it right at this moment. I know I looked magnificent because I remember the feeling of hiding behind this larger than life character for a night while grunting for candy or else “HULK SMASH!” your front door down. I love this memory.

Now let’s address this – I did green face.

I refuse to apologize and if The Hulk wants to come find me and break me like a hard pretzel, well then he better bring backup because even though I am no longer painting my face green… I have turned myself into a Hulk. Ok, a mini Hulk. But I can conjure up a temper and throw a tantrum while also being completely unreasonable and void of real direction. So... yeah, he’s going to need someone other than Black Widow to come with him.

I should mention that I am white. And not just white – I am Scottish white (Scottish heritage, born in Canada). Fair skinned, blonde hair, green eyes and I once thought mashed potatoes were the best food of all time. Until I discovered garlic mashed potatoes. Mind blown.

“I love humanity, but I hate humans.” – Albert Einstein

Let’s not lie – being white has its privileges. Do I know what all those privileges are? No, probably because I’m privileged in some way. But I find myself going back to the same bit to explain so much that I encounter in life:

Until my high school guidance councillor explained to me what suicide was, I had no idea it was a thing. I had no idea it was a possibility and I certainly did not know that many people were actively participating.

My lack of knowledge wasn’t due to privilege but rather because suicide had never been apart of my life experience. Would we call that ignorance? Some definitely would because it literally means ‘being unaware’. I feel an ignorant person is not only being unaware, but also a first-rate wanker because they won’t educate themselves or evolve and wish to remain blind to reality.

Once I became aware of suicide, I didn’t pretend it didn’t exist. I started to pay attention. I didn’t brush it off as an experience that didn’t affect me but rather a symptom of fragile mental health and I gave it the consideration it deserved as something that many people were suffering through… most of the time alone. If I see something that is wrong, that I know needs my support – I am there.

That is not my privilege speaking, that is my humanity.

The senseless murder of George Floyd ignited a firestorm.

(A firestorm is a conflagration (an extensive fire which destroys a great deal of land or property) which attains such intensity that it creates and sustains its own wind system. It is most commonly a natural phenomenon, created during some of the largest bushfires and wildfires.)

When I saw the footage on the news – I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand the blank, almost twisted look on that officer’s face as he drove his knee down on George Floyd’s neck. I didn’t understand the blatant inaction of the other officers while witnessing this brutal extinguishing of a human being. I didn’t understand why this level of aggression was necessary on someone who was already subdued. And I didn’t understand why the words “I can’t breathe” didn’t invoke an ounce of compassion or relief.

Then came the protesting. Then the riots. Then the looting. And I still didn’t understand.

While some people want to group all three of these events, in my mind, these are three separate actions. Because by attaching the riots and the looting with the genuineness of the protesting… it lessons the cause, blurs the intention and distracts from the truth… therefore painting the protestors with a brush of violence, greed and chaos. And that is beyond unfair.

The PROTESTS are NOT out of control.

The pain and frustration are what’s out of control and more importantly the injustice is out of control and people are responding to a situation where they feel angry and powerless. Yes, the fires, destruction of property and looting are awful collateral here but it’s important to not loose focus on what caused this current situation. We often look at with contempt and criticize reactions while forgetting the action that started everything.

And that is another injustice.

I wouldn’t even know how to begin writing about Black Lives Matter or Antifa. I say this because of the controversy surrounding both movements. And if you dive deep enough into the internet, like I did, you too will begin to suffer from what I like to call ‘I don’t know what to fucking think anymore-itis’.

So, I’m going to escape talking about these two groups with this:

“Instead of feeling threatened by and hating a movement, be glad you don’t need a movement.”

My experience with black people is pretty limited. Not by choice, but rather due to geography, common interests and quite possibly socioeconomics. I can count on one hand the number of black people I knew throughout my school-aged years. My area was diverse in other ways, so no, I did not grow up in White Breadville. I mention all this to lay down a bit of background before I continue.

“I don’t see colour.” How many of us have said this at least once in the last six months? I have. And I probably said it to prove to myself or someone else that I wasn’t racist. But I no longer say that… because the truth is, I do see colour. I see ALL the fucking colours and they are beautiful. It’s people who are ugly.

If you were to ask me point blank if I was racist, I’d tell you point blank – I am not. And I’d say this with absolute belief in my character and sincerity. I care less about your skin colour and nationality and more about you returning your shopping cart to its proper location. That is the truth. Your religion doesn’t bother me at all (as long as you’re not cramming it down my throat) but your ability to treat others with genuine kindness and compassion sure matters to me. And I don’t give a flying fuck how you want to identify… be a Martian, I’m totally cool with that, but bully others in my presence and I will come at you with the full force of nuclear pasta (look it up).

The last handful of months (I’m assuming here) has caused most of us to pull up and examine those deep in the corner of our brain concepts. You know the ones – the ones that might get you questioned by The Thought Police if they existed outside of fiction. It’s ok, we all have those little bastard notions creeping around… no matter the skin colour. I started to take a closer look at some of the things I think and how they would affect others if I wore those thoughts on a t-shirt. Needless to say, I’m not super impressed with myself. Because while I know with all my heart that I am not a racist person, I do recognize that I buy into and perpetuate some stereotypes. And I have zero excuses. This admission makes me a bit uncomfortable, but I’m ok with that… I can learn through discomfort.

I hear many people talking about and referring to white guilt.

- White Guilt: ‘the feelings of shame and remorse some white people experience when they recognize the legacy of racism and racial injustice and perceive the ways they have benefited from it’.

I do not feel shame and remorse as a white person. As a human being, I am ashamed of how many of my fellow humans treat those who do not look the way they do or do not come from the same background. Do I believe there is a legacy of racism and racial injustice? Yes, 100%. Have I benefitted from this because I am white? I may be too dumb to answer this correctly. Or maybe too white? Or maybe I’ve had blinders on because based upon my own level of perception, I’ve always struggled to navigate my own existence therefore only know what has directly prevented me from being who and what I want in this world?

I underlined ‘level of perception’ because as the quote goes: “I stopped explaining myself when I realized people only understand things from their level of perception”

Earlier I said there were so many things I didn’t understand about George Floyd’s death and the protests etc. but here is something I do comprehend - there’s a big difference between understanding someone’s plight and being understanding of someone’s plight. Sympathy doesn’t require a total understanding of what problems other people are experiencing.

I may not fully grasp the struggles of those in the black community because it is not my experience but I will not ignore, deny or challenge their struggles. I will however educate myself on the issues, observe my own reactions and offer support in the ways I can and offer compassion to anyone who is willing to accept a little love from a min Hulk.

Nothing I write here is meant to change your mind. It is not meant to offend or shame you for how you may feel or think and nothing I write here is meant to lessen the seriousness of the current situation facing an entire community of people. As a writer my only goal is often to just disrupt your thoughts. Period.

#thehulk #blm #perception #george floyd

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softboywriting · 6 years ago

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Falling Stars | Shawn Mendes AU

Summary: Shawn is the new doctor in your small town. You are the owner of the bookshop across the street from his clinic. The two of you hit it off immediately and thus begins a relationship that is everything you’ve ever dreamed of. [mild nsfw portion]

Word Count: 26k

| Masterlist in bio |

The lights of Falling Stars second hand book shop flicker to life in the slowest way possible. The single bulb hanging lamps are nearly as old as the building itself so it doesn't surprise you when sometimes they take two minutes or more to come up to full brightness. The early morning sun illuminates the books in a way you will never get used to. There's something so magical about the way the light warms the old wooden shelves, glinting off golden lettered book spines. The smell of cinnamon wafts through the air and you smile at your little table display front and center of the room. It has little pumpkins and fake orange and red leaves surrounding them with cinnamon sticks tucked into decorative vases that you dressed up with ribbon and little pinecones. A few stacks of books with autumnal themed titles sit around the display pieces. It is the epitome of Autumn and you couldn't be happier.

You flip the sign on the door over to OPEN and head to the checkout counter. A large black cat jumps up on the counter and lets out a soft meow, begging for your attention. It's Alice, the shop mascot and your beloved companion. She had wandered in the back door a few years ago and never bothered to leave. You suspect she may have belonged to the old woman who rented the apartment above the hardware store next door before she passed away. She never showed interest in following you up to your apartment above the bookshop, so you left her food and water with a homemade sweater bed near the utility closet.

“Good morning Alice,” you mutter softly as she headbutts your hand. “Are you hungry?”

Alice meows loudly. Of course she was hungry. What a silly question. She'd only been alone all night, stalking mice in the backroom and misplacing her stuffed toys you made her. Alice jumps down with a loud thump and leads you to her food dish. You supply her with a single scoop and she looks up at you in disdain. How foolish of you, thinking she would get full on one measly scoop. You scoop just a tiny bit more, not even enough to cover the bottom of the scoop, and sprinkle it on top. This satisfies her and she dismisses you, sticking her face in the dish and you turn away to go about opening up shop.

A few minutes later and you've got your register set up, money in it from the safe, and a fresh apple scented candle lit beside your computer. It's time to start your day. You pull up your stool and take a seat to check emails and online orders that are ready to ship. Online is most of your business, though you have your regular customers, shoppers who come from the city to find books not available in the major bookstores anymore and of course people who stop by on their way through town.

You see an email from one of your book suppliers, Dakota Press, and it says your book delivery will be arriving late. A delivery van broke down so they're behind schedule. No big deal. You never announce your new books until you had them physically on hand just for that exact reason. You open a few more emails, customers requesting books that were marked out of stock but you can order from Dakota Press. You take note to order them, adding the customers to your special order list and opening emails from customers searching for particular books they haven’t been able to locate online or in stores.

The bell over the shop door jingles and you look up to see a tall man walk in. He's about your age, maybe a year or two older. Definitely not someone you've seen before. Your first thought is tourist, someone just passing through, but he's too well dressed to be an average dad on a road trip and he was definitely not a fisherman from the harbour. His button down shirt is clearly starched and pressed, and those pants are tailored to fit. His shoes look to be out of a high end store, the watch on his wrist is probably worth your bills for three months and his hair is carefully styled and his skin is glowing. He was something else... something else with money.

“Hello, welcome to Falling Stars!” You cheer from behind the counter. You slide off your stool and fix your sweater so it covers the top of your leggings a bit better. You really wish you'd worn a better pair than your old black cable knit ones, but oh well. Hindsight is 20/20 right?

“Hello. This place is really lovely,” the man says with a gentle smile. Heartwarming. Kind. His eyes said it all as you approach him.

“Thank you so much, I try to keep the place nice. It is a very old building though, it has it’s problems.”

“No no, it's beautiful. I love it. It's very homey and warm. It has character,” he says as he browses the romantic fiction shelf near the doors.

Alice appears and winds around his legs, depositing a lovely clump of loose hair on the ankle of his pants. “Oh crap, Alice no,” you mutter, leaning down and grabbing the hair ball. When you stand back up, the man is beaming at you, a playful smile on the edge of a laugh.

“You didn't have to do that, I don't mind a little cat hair. Cute little thing probably thinks I smell weird.”

“Oh no, she knows better than to rub on people. I don't think you smell at all.” You turn scarlet as you realize what you've said. He did smell quite good, like an expensive cologne you smelled once in a department store. Not that you meant it like that. “I-I am so sorry, I mean like you don't smell weird? Like no, you smell good but not that I noticed that you smell like anything. I just-”

The guy bursts out laughing, eyes crinkling and head thrown back. God he's a sight to behold. His whole aura is brighter than the sun streaming in the front windows. “I understand what you mean but thank you, I try not to smell,” he manages through continued spouts of laughter until he's left smiling at your red cheeked face.

“So, um, are you looking for anything in particular?” You ask, trying your best to slip into business mode and out of awkward flirting mode. Things like this was why you are single, and you know it.

“Actually, I'm just looking for something to read between patients. I've just started at the clinic across the street,” he says as he points to the West Finch Clinic sign on the brick building across the road. It was owned by Dr. Finch for ages and he since retired in February and put the practice up for sale.

“Oh! You're the new doctor!” You exclaim excitedly. It explained his appearance, the well kept polished look and high end clothing and accessories.

“Mhmm. I decided to leave the city, needed a change of pace.” He grabs a book and turns it over in his hands. “I think this one will do.”

“Of course, I'll get you at the counter.”

You hurry around the display table and punch in your lock code on the register. The man strolls up and lays the book down and you punch in the cost you have labeled on the back. He leans against the counter on his forearms and stares at the wall mounted shelf behind you. It's where you keep your homemade lotions and balms and things of that sort along with a few of your favorite stones and crystals.

“Do you make those?” He asks, pointing at the shelves.

You glance back and smile. “Yes, they're really good for all sorts of skin ailments. Though I suppose you might not believe in homeopathic remedies?”

He laughs and nods. “I do actually, medicine is one option but it's not always the right one. Many natural remedies are proven to work just as well if not better than man made ones. Can I see the lemon hand balm?”

“Of course.” You grab a tin off the shelf and place it on the counter. “It's six dollars but since you got a book I'll only charge you five.”

He pops the lid off and smells it, eyes closed as he smiles. “Sold. I need something to keep my hands soft. Washing and sanitizing so much makes them so dry.” He pushes the tin toward you and you place it in the little brown sack you're putting his book in.

“Your total is fourteen fifty three. Cash or card?”

“Card,” he says, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and passing you a black credit card. You glance at the name and then to him with a smile. It wasn't until that moment you realized you hadn't gotten his name yet.

“Thank you, Dr. Mendes,” you grin as you slide his card across the registers reader.

“Just Shawn is fine. Dr. Mendes makes me feel so old,” he chuckles, taking his card back.

You lean on the counter and prop your head up on your hand. “Well, Shaaawwnnn, I put a flyer in your bag with my hours, email address and phone number. I mean, not mine, but the shop’s. I guess that's sort of mine though...” You drop your head and realize you've blabbered again. And why did you draw his name out all weird like that? You really need to get your shit together.

“Thank you,” Shawn smiles softly and grabs his bag. “I'll see you around?”

“Yeah, don't see a stranger. Fuck. Don't be a stranger, see you around.”

Shawn laughs as he waves goodbye. You watch as he jogs across the street to avoid a Mrs. Jensen's red truck as she drives to work, waving at the store on her way. She was a regular customer of yours and a good friend. You sink down onto your stool and drop your head on the counter.

“Alice, why am I so dumb?” you groan and Alice appears from the back room and meows softly. “Yes I am. I am dumb. It's like when I see a guy I'm attracted to, my brain short circuits.”

Alice winds around the stool legs, purring and headbutting your feet. Some days you really think she is listening to you, others you're sure she just doesn't care. Today she seemed to listen, and for that you're thankful.

“I should just be myself right? If guys don't like it then they can lump it. That's what Grandma would say.”

Alice meows and jumps up on the counter to headbutt your head.

“Who needs guys anyway. I got you, and you're way better than any silly doctor with soft eyes and big hands and...” You groan, petting Alice's back and she flops on her side. “I'm totally screwed.”

_____________________

A week later you wake up to the sound of rumbling thunder and your windows rattling and you sit up, disgruntled from being woken out of a deep sleep. Your bedroom is dark save for your alarm clock that's flashing the wrong time. The power must have gone out at some point. You pull your blankets back and get out of bed just as thunder shakes your apartment to its core. Below you, you can hear something crash and you jump. The damn bookcase that leans forward funny must have fallen over.

You grab a jacket and shove your feet into your old bear feet shaped slippers, a gift from your grandma before she passed, and head for the front door to the stairs. As you make your way down the dark staircase to the door that went outside you can see it rattling, the old glass panel at the top holding on for dear life. The floor is wet, rain leaking in under the door.

You forgo the water for now, the old cement foundation will just absorb it over time. The wind nearly knocks you over as you walk the few feet to the shop door. Rain pelts you like icy gravel and you struggle to get the already notoriously sticky lock open. Once inside, you're soaked, and dripping all over, but you can't bothered. The bookcase has in fact fallen over and it's taken out your table display as well. The shop is a mess and you sigh, knowing this will take all day to clean up.

Alice runs out of the back, slinking low to the ground as she makes her way to you. The bookcase must have scared her pretty badly. You pick her up and rub her ears.

“It's okay Alice. If you would come upstairs with me, you probably wouldn't be so scared,” you sigh, carrying her to her bed in the cramped utility room and setting her down as you sit beside it.

You decide to lay beside her as you pet her back slowly until she rolls on her side and relaxes. The rain makes you sleepy and you find yourself falling asleep spooned against Alice on the floor. It wouldn't be the first time you did this during a storm, but it would be the first time someone found you like that.

“Hello?” A voice calls from the front of the shop. You sit up, looking around and realizing you're in the utility room with Alice. Not your bedroom.

“I'll be right there!” you call out, jumping up and pulling your hair back in a ponytail on your wrist. You step over a fallen broom and look around the shop. No one seems to be there but, oh wait, there they are. Crouched in front of your broken table is Shawn, picking up little broken pieces of the cinnamon sticks from the vases.

“Oh you are here. Are you alright?” Shawn asks, standing and bringing the vase and stick pieces to the counter.

“Yes, I'm okay. The bookshelf just fell and hit the table. It's a mess but it's fine.” You sigh, looking over the mess before you. “I must have left the door unlocked.”

“Were you sleeping?” Shawn chuckles, taking in your rumpled clothes and bear slippers.

“I...I was just just looking for a broom in the back. I came down to check on the shop because I heard the bookcase fall...I didn't think about getting dressed.” You look down at your polka dotted sleep pants and old yellow summer camp tee from when you were a counselor one summer.

Shawn looks over at the mess and raises his eyebrows. “Do you need a hand? I don't open the clinic for another hour or so.”

“No! No I got it! Don't worry about it. It's not the first time that old shelf has fallen. You go get ready for work okay? I'm good. Thank you though.”

“You're sure? I mean I can stay...”

You put your hands up and wave him away. “I'm sure. Please, go do your doctor stuff. I'll clean up.”

Shawn steps over some books as you walk him to the door. He opens his mouth to say something but all he manages to get out is that you should be careful cleaning up the glass. You make a shushing noise and send him out into the rain. There was no way you were letting him stick around and help. It would just give you too much room to say something stupid and make him disappear forever. You weren't taking that chance.

Four hours later and the shop was back in order, save for the broken display table. The bookcase is propped up, books stacked beside it for the time being. You were debating getting a new shelf or finding a way to anchor that one. But for now you've parked yourself at the counter with a bottle of super glue and a pile of broken vases.

It's nearly half past eleven when the door jingles and Frank walks in with an arm full of books. Frank often brought books he found in yard sales and estate sales. He never wanted money for them, just some peppermint lotion for his wife and a tin of wintergreen hand salve for his old hands.

“Afternoon, Frank. What do you have today?” You grin, pushing aside your half built vase. Frank's books were like getting Christmas presents. Some were just the thing you wanted, others were the equivalent of a pair of underwear that you neither wanted or needed.

“I got some goodins!” Frank laughs, setting five books down for you. “I have an old Winnie the Pooh, a copy of a book called Taming Wolves, and a couple of old westerns.”

“Ohh, Taming Wolves eh?” You laugh, flipping the book over. It was a documentary book, a diary of sorts by a researcher in Alaska named Barry Dunes. Interesting.

“It's real good. I read a few pages myself.”

“Looks good, and this Winnie the Pooh is in great condition for its age. You outdid yourself Frank.”

Frank beams.

“I suppose you need some salve? Lemon or wintergreen this time?”

“Lemon please. Say, what happened to your little table out here?” He asks, looking around the very empty front area.

You place the salve in a bag for him with a little bottle of lotion you know his wife will need. “The bookcase fell again. I need to get a new one that isn't so damaged on the bottom.”

“I'll tell you what. I'll make you a new bookcase and a table, if you give me four tins of the mint salve and a large lotion for Annie.”

“Frank, that's hardly enough. I don't want you to go through all the trouble.”

Frank waves you off. “I'm dying to get back in my wood shed. It'll be my treat, might take a few days but I'll make it so sturdy a hurricane couldn't bring it down!”

You smile softly, shaking your head as you hand him his bag. “Alright, but I'll owe you, any time you need something just stop by. You don't even have bring books.”

“I'll still bring books kiddo, you know I love how it makes you smile brighter than the sun when I get something you really like. I'll be by in a few days, keep an eye out for my truck okay?” Frank says as he tucks his bag into his front overall pocket. “Be good now Alice,” he says with a wink at Alice who's laying in the window seat on his way out.

You can't help but smile as Frank walks down the street. It was nice to feel so loved and have friends like Frank. You really don't know what you would have done if he hadn't showed up, the bookcase would probably just have to be removed. It was so battered from the fall, it wasn't stable enough to use anymore. Thank goodness for little miracles.

_____________________

It's early evening a few days later and you're getting ready to close up and go to the store for some groceries. You've shut down the register, locked up the back and put the money in the safe. Everything is golden, things are looking up from the beginning of the week, and you couldn't be more content...until you grab your glued together vase a bit harshly and a piece collapses, poking right into your hand.

The pain is instant and you drop the vase on the counter. A small chunk of red glass is sticking out of your hand, bleeding down your palm. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. In a moment of panic, you freeze, looking around for something to stop the bleeding but finding nothing but tissues. The glass is in pretty deep and at a weird angle so you're scared to pull it out.

Across the street Shawn steps out of the clinic and you see him lock up, waving goodbye to his receptionist as she drives past. Immediately you hurry for the door and open it, eyes wide as you walk briskly across the road, holding your hand out in front of you.

“Shawn! Shawn!” You call out, voice trembling.

Shawn turns around and sees your hand. “Hey, I was just- Oh! Okay, keep it up, let's get inside,” he says calmly as he unlocks the door.

You follow him inside and to a small patient room. He puts on gloves and leads you to the sink, turning the water on and having you keep your hand under it while he inspects the glass.

“This is from one of the vases isn't it?” He asks with a little smile. “Didn't I say be careful?”

“It slipped, or I grabbed it too hard, I don't know what happened. I just grabbed it and suddenly it collapsed and the shard was in my hand.” You look at the chunk sticking out and Shawn grabs a pair of tweezers from a drawer and unwraps them from their sterile baggy before leading you to the exam table where you take a seat while he plops down on his rolling stool. “This is gonna hurt isn't it?”

“A little bit. Don't worry.” Shawn holds your hand palm up in his and pulls the glass out. You wince. It bleeds a bit more and Shawn works quickly to get it cleaned up and bandaged. He so focused as he wipes your hand down with alcohol and puts on a gauze pad that he wraps with tape. A little curl falls on his forehead and you can't help but stare at it. It's so cute and he's so hot the way he works so seriously. Your heart flutters when his face eases into a smile as he finishes taping your hand and looks up at you.

“Thank you. I probably could have taken care of it but I just panicked. I'm sorry I kept you from going home,” you mumble, dropping your hand to the side and sliding off the exam table.

“It's no problem. It's not like I've got much going on at home anyway,” Shawn chuckles. He peels his gloves off and tosses them as he begins cleaning up and sanitizing the counter.

“You're single then? A guy like you? No way,” you tease, leaning against the wall and he looks over with a small smile. “You're not joking?”

“Nope,” he laughs as he scrubs his hands and forearms. “I haven't really tried getting into the dating scene here in town.”

You let out a chuckle and look out the door into the empty lobby. The rain looks like its coming back, the sky looks gray and overcast. “I don't know how much of a dating scene there really is here. I haven't been out in years.”

Shawn dries his hands on some paper towels from the dispenser by your head. “Not big on dating either?”

“No, not really,” you shake your head.

“Well that makes two of us. Come on, let me walk you home.”

“I live just across the street,” you chuckle and he shrugs.

He walks you out of the clinic and across the empty street. A small whirlwind of leaves blows across your path and he catches a big oak leaf that is burnt orange and hands it to you. “For your display, I noticed it was temporarily on the counter yesterday. It was missing some leaves,” he smiles, beaming down at you like the sun and you take it, biting your lip bashfully.

“Thank you, I didn't even realize you had stopped in again,” you mutter, twirling the leaf in your fingers.

“You were busy helping a couple people. I didn't want to bother you.”

“Oh, that's okay, you can always talk to me anytime.” Shawn continues to smile warmly and your cheeks heat up. “Well anyway, I should probably get going. I need to get some groceries still. Alice will think she's dying if I don't have food for her in the morning.”

“Of course,” Shawn says softly, laying his hand on your arm. “Don't use that hand too much alright? It needs to rest so the skin heals. You should pick up some gauze or large bandaids too, you're going to want to replace it in a few hours, okay?”

“Yes doctor,” you laugh and he shakes head. “I promise I'll be careful and get some gauze.” You pull your phone out and add gauze and tape to your grocery list, then turn it around for him to see. “Got it locked in.”

Shawn grabs your phone and types something before giving it back. “That's my cell number. In case you need anything.”

“O-oh.” You glance at your phone and back up at him. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Shawn grins, rubbing his neck nervously. “I'll see you tomorrow then?”

“Mmm, maybe. Do you need a book?”

“I am almost finished with the one I got...maybe I could stop in before I open the clinic.”

You duck your head and giggle. “Tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow,” he says, laying his hand on your elbow and giving your arm a gentle squeeze before he crosses the street and heads to his Jeep that's parked in the alley between the clinic and the bakery.

You dig in your sweater pocket and lock the shop up before going in to your place to get your shopping bags. The moment you close the door to your living room you let out a squeal. You can’t believe you got the cell number of the finest man you have ever seen. God and the way he kept touching your arm...you were a goner.

_____________________

“So you're telling me a sexy young doctor moved into the West Finch Clinic and has the hots for you?” Nani, your best friend, laughs in disbelief.

“Yes! It sounds insane, I know. I mean maybe I'm reading too far into it but the way he smiled at me and touched my arm after bandaging my hand up...ugh, you would be dying.”

Nani adjusts her laptop so she can lay down and still see you in the Skype window. “Have you made a move yet? Did you flirt back?”

“I think so?”

“You think so? Either you did or didn't. Tell me everything! I swear if you mess it up with a hot doctor I'll book a flight out of here just to beat your ass.”

You roll your eyes. “You are not leaving this close to your wedding date. Your mother would skin you alive. Besides isn't a flight from the Philippines like seventeen hours or something?”

Nani groans. “How are you always right? Ugh, I hate it. Why did I have to go home to get married?”

“Because you wanted your family to be there?”

“Ugh. Family. Whatever, enough about me. I need to know more about your plans for Dr. Sexy.”

You laugh and flop over on your bed, grabbing your sequined pillow and curling around it. “His name is Shawn, if you must know. I know he's single, and I think he came from the city. Not sure why though...who wants to move here?”

“You aren't wrong about that. Roselake is pretty boring. I mean, it was nice growing up there part of the years but there isn't much to do.”

“I know. It makes me think he probably didn't know what he was getting into when he bought Finch's practice. He'll probably get so bored he'll go back to the city.”

“Not if he has a cute book nerd to stick around for,” Nani waggles her eyebrows at you.

“Oh shut up! He is probably just so friendly because he hasn't explored the town yet. There are far cuter girls around here. Don't you remember Millie Green? I bet he'd drop dead if he came across her.”

“Millie Green is a snakey little tart. Don't tear yourself down like that, don't compare yourself to the likes of Millie. You're very cute too, now you've grown into your body and lost those doofy glasses.”

“Hey!”

“I'm right and you know it!” Nani looks off screen to someone and back to you. “Erik is ready to go pick out flowers. I gotta go. You better step up your flirting game. At least make casual conversation and see where it goes.”

“Ugh, fine. It's your fault if I make an idiot out of myself.”

“You'll be fine. Pinky swear you will ask him why he moved to Roselake,” Nani says holding her pinky out to the camera. You hold yours up and hook it in the air, promising you'll make an attempt to talk to Shawn. What could casual conversation hurt?

_____________________

You pull your shoes on and a sweater over leggings again, glance in the mirror and decide it's as good as any outfit. Comfort over style your grandma always said. She was always right. You grab a bagel and a little pack of cream cheese. It's one of those mini sample cups that stores have near the bagel case. You like to take as many as you can so you never have to shell out for cream cheese. You head for the front door and as soon as you're out the lower door, you see Shawn milling around outside the shop.

“Morning,” he grins big, giving you a little wave. “I guess I'm early huh?”

“A little bit.” You hand him your cream cheese and bite the bagel to hold it as you unlock the front door to Falling Stars.

Shawn follows you inside and Alice nearly trips him, yowling because she wants breakfast. “Easy,” he laughs, lifting her up on the counter. “You have to talk to your mom about food. Not me.”

Alice meows, staring at him. You go around and place your bagel on the register while you scoop Alice's food. At the sound of kibble tinkling in her bowl, she comes running.

“So, what can I do for you Shawn?” You ask cheerily as you walk up to the counter and start preparing your bagel.

“Well,” he starts, leaning against the counter. He's wearing a dark blue cardigan over a soft grey shirt with the sleeves rolled up and it makes you wanna combust. He looks so good in such a simple but cozy way. “I was thinking about how you said you weren't much into dating and neither am I, and so I was wondering if you'd like to join me in seeing the town?”

“Like a date or...” You trail off, dropping your bagel, cheese first onto the register.

“Just as acquaintances. If that's okay. I haven't really talked to anyone else besides a few patients and they're a little wary of me. I thought maybe you might be able to help introduce me to the town...”

“Sure, of course. Yeah, anytime.”

Shawn looks at your bagel and raises his eyebrows. “Wednesday?”

“I'm totally free Wednesdays. Totally free all the time really but anyway,” you laugh nervously, peeling your breakfast off the register keys.

“Oh man, that is a mess,” Shawn chuckles.

“It's no biggie. I have wet wipes around here somewhere.” You glance around the cubbies under the counter, running a hand over your hair to push back some fly aways. “Anyway, Wednesday is great. I'll show you all the best parts of Roselake.”

“Excellent. See you then,” Shawn says, slapping the counter like a drum before backing away to go to the door. Looks like you're not the only awkward one. “Oh, by the way, your hair looks nice today, but you got some cream cheese in it.”

Your hands fly to your hair and sure enough you smeared some after picking it up off the register. Shawn laughs as he closes the door behind him, flipping the sign to OPEN as he leaves. You stare at your bagel and smile. You landed a date with a doctor. Well, not a real date, but basically a date. Nani was gonna flip out.

_____________________

Wednesday comes before you know it and you're a nervous wreck as you close up the shop and go upstairs to change clothes. You have to keep reminding yourself that it's not a date. It's not. You put on a pair of jeans and a sweater, boots and a slouchy beanie hat. Nothing fancy. Not date clothes.

Shawn is waiting for you outside the shop. He has on the same dark blue cardigan as he did the other day, with black jeans and instead of a button up shirt he has on a soft well worn t-shirt. He looks as good as always, but a little extra today maybe. A little more relaxed, cozy, warm like his eyes. You can't help but smile and he smiles right back.

“You look great, I like your boots,” Shawn says as you get close. You look down at your feet and it's just your regular brown boots with the leg warmers sticking out of the top.

“Thanks, they're my favorite pair,” you giggle and kick your foot out a little. “Oldies but goodies.”

Shawn just beams. It kills you the way he looks at you like that. The way his face says a thousand words but you can't quite make out any of them. He seemed to find you endearing, but maybe you've mistaken that for politeness. You never were great at reading people, too many times you'd been wrong and you weren't about to say something now and ruin whatever you were building here.

“Where to first?” Shawn asks. He opens the passenger side door of his Jeep for you and stands by it, hand out for you. “I'm not sure where anything is around here. I haven’t done a lot of exploring.”

You step down off the curb, taking Shawn's offered hand for balance, though you don't actually need it. “I think we should go to the shore. There is a memorial there about how Roselake was founded.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Twenty minutes later and you're at the shore of the harbour that provided much of Roselake’s economy. Shawn got lost twice, turning left instead of right because he was too focused on the story you were telling him about how you adopted Alice. It's cute, how he gets so lost in your words. You can't remember the last time a guy listened so wholeheartedly.

You step out of the Jeep and Shawn meets you on your side and you lead him to the small historical plaque that contained the story of Roselake. The story goes that the harbour was once a large pocket of ocean water that got called a “lake” and was found by Edward Jenkins Rose nearly a hundred years ago. The town didn't get built until about fifty years later when there was a massive storm and flooding that deteriorated the strip of land between the ocean and the “lake” and opened it up to be a harbour. The area became a quick transfer route for many fishing and cargo companies because they no longer had to dock several miles up the coast and freight their goods out of the way to the plants in the city a few miles away from Roselake.

“So Roselake wasn't even actually a lake?” Shawn laughs and you nod. “I guess they didn't know what else to call it, even though it was clearly salt water?”

“Yep. So Roselake should probably be called Rose Harbour but no one is going to bother changing that after a hundred years.” You lean on the railing of the outlook and sigh softly.

Shawn leans next to you, his arm bumping yours. It makes your heart race. Being so out of touch with another person had taken its toll on you to the point where a simple brush of arms was exciting. Sad. “What's up? Why the heavy sigh? We're supposed to be having fun.”

“It's nothing, I was just thinking.” You look out at a ship that is pulling in to dock. Everyone you knew was from Roselake, no one came to live here. Who came to live in a fishing town? “Why did you come here? Why leave the city?” you find yourself asking, not really meaning to, but it comes out anyway.

“I hated it.” You glance over, surprised at that answer. “I grew up in Davenport, one of the city’s suburbs, and it just...it made me feel trapped. I went to college to become a general practitioner and while doing my residency in a local hospital since they were the only available training outlet, I saw so much violence and trauma, I don't know how I survived.” He chuckles deprecatingly, running a hand through his hair. “I dunno how I became a doctor sometimes.”

“Wow,” you mutter, not having expected such a heavy response.

“I spent almost a year on the staff of the hospital I did residency in before deciding I couldn't take it. For a while I thought I was going to have to throw it all away for nothing. I thought I couldn't handle being a doctor, that I'd have to suck it up or find a new profession.” Shawn lets out a heavy sigh and leans over the railing as he continues. “A friend told me about how his dad used to run a family practice in small town, and how it was so quiet and nice. I thought that would be perfect, that I could still do what I loved with helping people but on a smaller scale like I really wanted. So I looked for practices for sale or ones looking for partners, and that's how I found West Finch.”

“Oh, that’s quite a journey,” you mutter, looking over at him. He smiles, soft and warm. You look away, back to the sun setting on the ships in the harbour.

“I shouldn't have unloaded like that. I'm so sorry. I guess...I guess I just felt comfortable enough to tell you,” Shawn chuckles nervously.

“No, it's okay. I asked. I'm glad you feel comfortable with me, it's nice to feel like you have a friend.”

“Yeah. You're the first person I’ve really talked to. You’re actually the first person I met.”

You push off the railing and cross your arms. “No way. I am not the first person you met. The town may be small but it’s not that small.”

Shawn laughs, turning around and hopping up to sit on the railing. “You were. I mean, I met the realtor that showed me my apartment and the clinic, but she doesn't count.”

“Oh come on. You didn't run into someone in your apartment building or like at the grocery store?”

“Nope, not a single person talked to me more than doing their jobs. It's like they knew I was some weird outsider,” he chuckles with a soft sigh. “I'm not weird am I?”

“Maybe a little bit,” you tease with a smile, walking down the path, running your hand along the railing. “But I guess maybe I’m kind of weird too, so it's relative.”

Shawn hops down and walks over to you, smiling as he shakes his head. “Oh come on, you're not weird at all. In fact, you're the most normal person I've met here so far.”

You roll your eyes. “Says the guy who hasn’t met very many people here yet. Anyway, let's get going. Are you hungry? There's a place not far from here that has the best shrimp alfredo, it’s kind of a local hang out.”

“Are you trying to steal my heart?” Shawn laughs as you get into the Jeep. “Shrimp is my ultimate weakness.”

“What, no way, me too! I could eat shrimp all day long!”

Shawn starts the Jeep and backs out of the parking area. “Lead the way, and it's my treat. We'll eat shrimp until we explode.”

“Deal, but I might eat so much that you’re broke.”

“I hardly doubt that, but if I eat more than you, you have to tell me your story of Roselake.”

You look over and he's grinning. You agree to his challenge, knowing he would probably win anyways. You didn't mind though, it wasn't as if you had that crazy of a life story or anything. You just want to play along, to see this fun side of Shawn, to see who he is beneath his cool doctor exterior.

_____________________

Somehow you find yourself sitting in the back of Cap’n Clark's Bar and Grill with six jumbo shrimp sticking out or your mouth like some kind of sea monster while Shawn turns purple laughing. He's holding onto the table for dear life, leaned over on his arms just crying every time he glances at you. His laughter gets the best of you and you have to remove the shrimp because you are laughing too hard, turning a similar shade of purple.

Shawn ended up eating more than you, like you figured, and so as the evening winds down he holds you to the deal. You don't know why, but suddenly you're nervous. There wasn't even that much to tell...well...not much to you anyway. It just seemed so intimate.

“So, did you grow up here?” Shawn asks, stirring his drink with his straw.

“Yeah. My parents worked in the harbour and got married pretty quick. I wasn't really planned or anything, my dad always said they didn't want kids because they were both away on fishing boats a lot. Life isn't perfect though,” you chuckle, staring at Shawn's hand as he swivels the straw around in his drink with his index finger.

“So...your parents didn't want a kid?”

You shake your head. “That's shitty right? I mean babies are not an accidental thing, if you don't want kids, be more cautious. Anyway, I was raised by my Grandma. My mom's mother. My parents just wouldn't give up their lives for a baby.”

Shawn leans back in his side of the booth and folds his arms as he listens. You glance up at his face and he looks kind of pissed off. He was angry at your parents on your behalf, yet he hardly knew you. What a soft hearted person.

“So anyway, Falling Stars was my grandma's bookstore. When I got a little older I helped introduce her into the online marketplaces. She always let me run that part of the business because computers were just not her forte.” You chuckle to yourself. “She passed away when I was twenty, she was nearly eighty seven. Pneumonia. She left me everything.”

“I'm so sorry,” Shawn murmurs. “What about your parents? Are you in contact with them?”

You let out a dry laugh. “My parents are either dead or sitting on a beach somewhere with all their fishing boat money. I really don't know or care. They stopped sending Grandma money when I turned eighteen, stopped visiting when I was about thirteen.”

“Wow.”

“It's no big deal. I know it sounds sad and tragic but it's not. It's just my life. I grew up happy with just Grandma. I never knew any different.” You smile softly and Shawn smiles back. “Now it's just me and Alice carving our little place in the world one book at a time.”

“Yeah,” Shawn chuckles. “I'm sorry, by the way. I didn’t realize I'd open a can of worms like this. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No, we made a deal. You ate more, I spilled my guts. You already spilled yours earlier. I didn't even have to eat an ungodly amount of shrimp for it,” you smirk.

“Oh so I'm an open book eh?”

You bite your lip, looking away because it's just too easy to tease him. He felt so natural, easy to talk to. If this was flirting, you think you might be nailing it. “Just a little bit. I like it though, I like feeling comfortable with someone. It's been a while.”

“I can understand that, I feel the same way.”

You hum in agreement as you finish off your strawberry daiquiri. Shawn insisted you get anything you want off the menu and you hadn't had a strawberry daiquiri since your twenty first birthday...and it was definitely going to help you loosen up on this “not date”. So you went for it, and now it's gone and you're feeling giggly, and giggly meant you would probably be talking too much and Shawn should really take you home.

“Where to next?” Shawn asks as he hands the server his card and the bill he definitely wasn't letting you see.

“Home?”

“Already? Is Roselake just the harbour and Cap'n Clark's?”

“Well, no...but most of the shops are closed by now...I don't know if you’d really want to go to any bars. They're just full of old drunk fisherman anyway.”

Shawn grins and lets out a chuckle. “I don't seem the type to hang out with fisherman?”

You shake your head, leaning you chin on your hand. “Nope, but maybe Sunday we can go to the farmers market on the edge of town. Loads of people come and set up there. It's like a whole mini town.”

“Hmm, are you asking me on a date?” Shawn smirks. Ugh. You could grab his face and kiss him right there with everyone to see. How dare he be so handsome and tease you like it was nothing.

“I'll be showing you the town, it's not a date. Is this a date?”

“Well, I did spill my guts to you and take you to a restaurant where I paid, when we were supposed to be exploring Roselake. Is it a date? Ehh...maybe?”

“If it's a date, I get your sweater at the end of the night.”

Shawn raises his eyebrows at you, signing the credit card receipt that the server leaves. ��Is that so? I've never heard of that rule.”

You sit back and cross your arms. You can feel your cheeks flushing from the drink. Either it had been pretty strong or your tolerance was in the hole, because you were feeling it. “It's a Roselake tradition.”

“Uh huh,” he smiles slowly, playing along with your nonsense. “I don't suppose I'd want to dishonor a town tradition then.”

“Nope, but if it's not a date, then you don't have to worry.”

“Right. Let's go, I'm sure Alice needs her dinner by now,” Shawn says as he stands and offers his hand. You take it and he keeps one hand on your back as you leave the restaurant.

The drive home is quick since Shawn isn't getting lost this time. He parks the Jeep outside the shop and comes around to help you out. An actual gentleman. Wow.

“Thanks for showing me around town,” Shawn says as he walks with you to your door. “Even if we did only go a few places.”

“It was fun.”

“It was. So um, good night I guess. You okay getting up the stairs?”

You nod, opening the stairwell door and stepping inside. “Mmmhmm. Goodnight.”

“Wait,” Shawn says, hand on the door frame. “I think this belongs to you now.” He shrugs out of his cardigan and hands it to you.

“Are you...”

“This was the best night I've had in a long time. I'd like to think it was a date if you would. Do you accept?”

He holds the sweater up and you grab it. It's warm and very soft, just like you thought it would be. “I accept. Do you accept my date this Sunday?”

He chuckles. “I do, but you're not getting my sweater after that date. I'll run out of clothes that way.”

“Alright, but this one is mine,” you say as you wrap yourself up in his sweater.

“Okay, okay, goodnight. I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Bright and early.”

Shawn moves his hand from the door frame and you close it. You stand on your tiptoes, looking out the window to see him as he gets in his Jeep. He sits there for a moment and pulls out his phone. He's smiling, laughing at something and he relaxes back into his seat, looking over at the shop with a smile as he talks. It make your heart swell, and you can't help but run up the stairs and jump on your bed. Shawn made you feel like you were sixteen again, and it was the best thing ever.

_____________________

“Welcome to Falling Stars,” you cheer from the counter, sat at your computer as usual. You look up and see it's Frank and his daughter Sylvia carrying in the bookcase he promised to make you. “Oh my God!” You jump up and run over to help them get it in.

It's made of dark wood that nearly matched the pre-existing shelves. On the top there is a mantle that has moons carved into it on either side. It's beautiful, far more than you ever expected. The table Sylvia brings in after the bookcase is set down is just a beautiful and has carved crescent moons around the top outside edges of it. It matches the shelf perfectly.

“What do you think kid? Not too bad for an old man!” Frank laughs, dusting his hands off on his overalls. He looks proud, smug even, and rightfully so. His work was stunning.

“They're amazing. I can't even begin to thank you, wow, I just...I'm at a loss for words. I can never repay you enough.” You walk over and put your arms around the little old man. He hugs you back, patting your shoulder and beaming at you when he pulls away. “Thank you.”

“You deserve it. You make Roselake brighter every day just by being here, it's about time someone gave back.” Sylvia clears her throat a little and Frank looks back at her. “I best be going, my wife has an appointment at the dentist. Seventy seven years old and I still have to hold her hand when we go there. Love her to pieces though,” Frank chuckles, shuffling out the door and to his truck.

You wave goodbye, standing beside Sylvia in the doorway as Frank pulls away from the street. “So, you know the new doctor?” Sylvia asks, nodding toward the clinic.

“We've met. He's really nice.” You hold your hand up where you've got a band aid covering the little bit of scab from the glass wound. “He patched me up the other week, excellent bedside manner.”

“I wouldn't mind a piece of that.”

“Sylvia! He's my age, come on.”

Sylvia shrugs and chuckles. “Call me a cougar then. Hey, I'm single and ready to mingle again.”

“Ah yeah, I heard about Ted. What a dick.”

“I'm past it. He can go fuck whatever city girls he wants, I got all his damn money and the house. I think I came out on top.”

You shake your head. “I still can't fathom why someone would cheat. I don't understand it.”

“Me neither kid. Anyway, you like the doctor? You said he's your age right?”

Shawn steps out of the front doors of the clinic and leans against the wall, head tilted back. “Yeah...I do. Would you mind?” You ask, looking into the empty shop and back at Shawn. Sylvia nods and makes a shooing motion with her hands.

You cross the street and walk up to Shawn, laying your hand on his arm gently. “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, I'm great,” he smiles weakly, looking down at you. He's lying and he's horrible at it. “I just needed air, gets stuffy.”

“Mmm, everything all good today?” You press, hoping he'll just slip up and lower the obvious guard he holding up. “Anything interesting? I heard Mrs. Jenkins has a rash on her back the size of Texas.”

Shawn chuckles, covering your hand with his. “I'm not at liberty to discuss any of my patients, y'know, legal patient privacy rules and all.”

“Oh! Right, yeah, totally. I got ya. Well, if you need anything...I'm next door.”

“I know. Thank you,” he smiles, still weak as he grabs your hand and squeezes gently as he removes it from his arm and goes back inside. Something was wrong, properly stressing him out. You wished you could help.

You walk back over to the shop and Sylvia raises her eyebrows but says nothing. “Thanks for bringing the table and bookcase. Let your dad know that anything he needs, it's his.”

“Will do. See you around,” Sylvia waves and you close the door with a soft click behind her.

You get to work filling the new bookcase with the books that fell over a week ago. Every now and then you glance over at the clinic when you see movement but it's always a passerby or someone going to see Shawn. You can't help but wonder what stressed Shawn out, why he had to go outside and take a breather. Maybe something happened that reminded him of the city.

You turn a book over in your hands and smile. It was a favorite of yours, a romantic thriller called Run Among Thorns. You set it aside and finish up stocking the books. You go about setting up your autumn display with what you salvaged from the broken table. It's not much, but you still have a few mini pumpkins, the fake leaves, one glued together vase and a handful of pinecones. It was just as pretty if not smaller.

Ten minutes to six and you dust your hands off, looking around the shop with a satisfactory smile. Everything was back in order finally. Before you lock up you wrap the book you picked out earlier and feed Alice. You jog across the street and slide the book into the little mailbox next to the clinic door and put the flag up. It wasn't much, but you know receiving a gift on a bad day could change everything. It was something you learned from your grandma, something you hoped to pass on as much as you could.

_____________________

Sun shines in the window and you sit up, stretching and yawning big. It was Friday, only two days until your second date with Shawn. You can't wait, just the thought of being able to see him laugh again like he did at Cap'n Clark's makes your heart race. You're so distracted by thoughts of the weekend that you don't look at the clock and notice you've overslept until you're making breakfast and see the digital clock on the stove.

“Oh shit, shit,” you mutter, flipping the stove off and putting the eggs back in the fridge. It's after nine and you're supposed to be downstairs at eight. Alice would not be happy.

You don't bother to change out of your shirt and sweater, Shawn's sweater, that you slept in. You just pull on a pair of jeans off the floor and shove your feet into your fuzzy lined clogs and run downstairs.

Sure enough Alice is in the window, yowling like she's been abandoned for a week. Overdramatic cry baby. The mail flag is up on the post box and you peek in while unlocking the door. There's a few letter envelopes and a little box. You weren't expecting any returns or deliveries. You gather them up and head inside to feed your screaming furry baby.

With Alice satiated, you take a seat and tug open the brown paper wrapped box. It looks like an old disposable glove box and sure enough the top is taped closed so you have to open the end. Out of it falls a bunch of ribbon and miniature decorations of pumpkins, cats, skeletons and witch hats. A whole assortment of Autumn and Halloween-y things. A note falls out as well.

“A gift for a gift. Thought your table might need some friends. Thank you for the book, I can't wait to talk with you about it. -Shawn”

You look up through the windows and Shawn is standing there, holding up two coffee cups. He pulls the door open and walks in with a smile. “Good morning, did you oversleep?”

“Yeah, I guess I kept hitting the alarm,” you giggle sheepishly. Shawn sets a coffee down for you. “Thanks for the gifts.”

“It's no problem. You gave me a book, I had to return the favor.”

You pick up one of the skeletons and place him atop the register. “The craft store is in the city...”

“I know it is,” Shawn smirks around his coffee cup.

“Where did you get these?”

“I got them from the craft store, duh.”

“Oh.”

Shawn shakes his head. “They'll look great on that new table, or maybe,” he trails off, grabbing a little black cat and leaning over the counter. He tucks it into the side pocket of your sweater. “ it'll look cute like that.”

“You're a dork,” you laugh and he smiles big. “Don't you have patients to see or something?”

Shawn glances over at the clinic. “Yeah, y'know...a few but I had to see if you liked your gift.”

“I do, thank you again. Now go, don't keep people waiting!”

“I'm going,” he chuckles on his way to the door. Before he goes out he turns and looks back and says, “Oh and I like your sweater. It's very nice, definitely my favorite,” and winks. He dead ass winks at you and leaves.

You can't help the embarrassing giggle that bubbles out of you and you're glad that only Alice is around to hear it. You wrap his sweater around you and sigh softly, he was going to be the death of you and that would be just fine.

_____________________

“You what?!” Nani yells through the webcam. Her hair dresser jumps in the background and laughs. “You got his sweater?!”

“Yeah, I can't believe he actually gave it to me. I think he really likes me. Oh God I don't know how to deal with this.”

“Girl you just do you. He likes you for you. Do what feels natural, go with the flow. Remember when I met Erik?”

You pick your laptop up and carry it into the kitchen with you. “How could I forget? You sent me a text every ten minutes about his eyes or how he was sitting or when he almost touched your hand. God you were so infatuated.”

“Fair enough, but Erik liked me too. He gave all the signals and I was pressing go. What I'm saying is, listen to your gut and read Shawn's signals. You can't go wrong.”

“I mean I could but...”

Nani sets her phone on the counter of her hairdresser's booth. “He gave you his sweater, probably expensive by the looks of it, trust me. You can't read him wrong at this point.”

“I guess...”

“No guessing, he likes you. He brought you stuff for your display. Guys don't just do thoughtful stuff like that if they don't seriously like you.”

“You're right. I gotta stop over thinking it.”

“Yes you do. Let it happen.”

You nod, sighing softly as you say goodbye and let Nani get her hair cut. Nerves were getting the best of you and you knew it was only a matter of time. It had been three years since you let anyone in. After your ex, if you could call him that, you weren’t too keen on dating. Besides, everyone knew everyone in town and everyone had pretty much dated someone you knew, so it was weird. Seriously. If Nani hadn't gotten out of Roselake and went to college in the city she probably would have settled for and married Jackson Walters, her boyfriend before college. The thought of that makes your skin crawl. Not that he was a bad guy, but like, there was better in this world. You promised yourself that you'd never settle, even if that meant being alone with Alice until you were forty.

_____________________

Sunday morning you wake up and you're miserable. You knew you had a cold coming on while you grocery shopped on Saturday. Your nose was running, face swollen, ears a bit achy. You ignored it. Telling yourself it was just allergies even though it was autumn and everything was pretty much dying off in the cool air. You couldn't be sick, no, you had your date with Shawn at the farmers market today.

You force yourself out of bed and into the shower. A hot shower would clear this right up. You grab one of the little shower bombs that you made a few weeks ago, it's a chamomile mint one and if it didn't do the trick you were screwed.

Twenty minutes later and you step out of the shower feeling no better. Super. Awesome. You get dressed, the usual slightly too Iarge sweater, leggings, and boots combo. You add a scarf and knit fingerless gloves because it's a little chilly and they're cute. The clock reads five minutes until ten in the morning and the market opened in half an hour. You grab your keys and your bag and head down to the shop to feed Alice in case you got back late for dinner.

The sky is a little overcast but not bad, you had a few hours before it would rain. Plenty of time to browse the market. Once inside the shop you feed Alice and clean up a few books you left out the night before. Shawn's Jeep pulls up and you take a deep breath and head out to meet him.

As you expected, Shawn gets out and comes around to see you before you get in. The moment he lays eyes on you he knows. He can tell you're sick. It must be the way your face looked so pale, or maybe it was your red nose from wiping at it. Either way, there was no hiding it.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks, raising his hand up to touch your forehead. “You're kinda warm”

“I'm fine. Probably just hot from the shower,” you smile, trying your best not to sound nasally and stuffed up.

Shawn slides his hand down to your cheek and cups it, his whole palm covering the side of your face. A blush creeps up on your cheeks and you feel that familiar rush of cool adrenaline in your veins that happened when Shawn got a little affectionate with you. “I don't know if you should be walking around outside like this.”

“I'm fine. If I feel terrible I'll just call a doctor...oh wait,” you chuckle and he gives you a look. “I promise I just look sick. I feel great.” Ugh who were you trying to convince. Probably yourself to be honest.

Shawn looks skeptical but he helps you into the Jeep anyways. A short drive later and you're parking in a gravel covered lot across from the field where the market is set up. Despite the overcast skies, it's a pretty big turn out. There is at least twenty tents set up in the front area and more in the back.

“So, is this here every weekend?” Shawn asks as you trek towards the tents.

“Every Sunday, May until the end of September. I used to come here with Grandma every weekend. We would get vegetables and stuff for the week. She liked things as fresh as possible.”

“Was she fun? You seem fond of her.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, wandering toward a booth that has stone bracelets for sale. “She was my best friend and my parent. She had her quirks, we all do, but she was great. I miss her.”

Shawn hums. He's watching you touch the bracelets, not saying anything as you browse the selection. As you move on to the necklaces he lifts the pendant of one with his fingers. A chunk of quartz wrapped with gold wire on a leather cord.

“This one is pretty,” he says softly, bumping your hand with his to get your attention.

You look over and he lifts it off it's display. He puts it over your head and lays it over your bulky scarf. You touch it carefully, looking up at him as you do. “It's gorgeous.”

“How much?” Shawn asks the seller, an old man sitting in a chair behind the tables.

“Twenty five dollars.”

Your eyes widen and you lift it over your head. “It's beautiful, but I don't need it.”

“It's my treat,” Shawn says pulling out his wallet. You push his hands down and shake your head. “Seriously if you want-”

“We'll come back. There's a lot more to see. What if I like something better?”

Shawn pockets his wallet and nods. He knows you're right. This was only the first tent you'd stopped at. There were many more to see. Shawn thanks the seller and he waves you off politely.

The two of you wander from tent to tent checking out everything from vegetables, baked goods and local honey to jewelry and yard art. You refuse to let Shawn buy you anything because you don't want to decide until you've seen everything. It's almost an hour into your date and you're talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Shawn is easy to talk to and even easier to trust. He tells you about how he grew up in the city in a small suburb. He doesn’t say a lot about his parents but talks about how he played hockey and baseball growing up. You tell him about how your grandma would insist that she walk you to the bus stop every day until you were sixteen and you tell him how you won a few awards for art class projects in high school. He tells you he went to a private high school with around six hundred kids. You went to a public school a town over that had maybe six hundred kids from surrounding communities but the whole school was kindergarten through twelfth grade. The two of you grew up very differently but that didn't change who you ended up becoming.

It's almost noon when you feel yourself get dizzy, exhaustion setting in. Your body is reaching its limit. Your head hurts and you feel stuffed up and out of it all of a sudden. Shawn notices right away that you're not doing so well. He holds your arm, steadying you as you start to sway.

“Whoa whoa whoa, what's wrong?” Shawn asks worriedly. He holds your arms and looks down at you.

You look up, eyes heavy and face aching like your sinuses are full. “I don't feel good. My head hurts,” you mumble through a stuffy nose.

Shawn puts his hand on your head. “You're burning up. We need to go home.”

“No, I don't want to ruin our date. We haven't even seen everything yet.”

“I don't care about that. We can come back on another date.”

You shake your head and rub at your nose with your gloved hand. “It's the last weekend.”

Shawn sighs. “We'll come next year. I'm taking you home.”

You lean into him and sigh. Next year. As if you would be together then. As if he would still be in town. Fat chance. His hand comes up to your hair and you wrap your arms around his chest. He's warm, soft, and smells like really good cologne and fresh laundry. You hold on to him, to this moment, never wanting it to end, wishing you weren't sick.

“Can I take you home?” Shawn asks softly and you nod into his chest, wanting nothing more than to be in bed.

_____________________

It's a while later and you wake up, not remembering much of the drive home or falling asleep. You find yourself tucked into your bed with Shawn sitting up next to you on top of the blankets, the TV playing some Hallmark movie on mute. You sit up and cough, your chest feeling full and tight with congestion. You're miserable.

“You're awake,” Shawn mumbles, sitting up right with you. “Let me feel your head.” He reaches over and presses his palm to your head and cheek. “Still hot, do you have a thermometer?”

“I don't think so?”

“Alright, I'll be back,” Shawn says, getting up and heading for the door. “I'm going to get some stuff from the clinic.”

“I'm fine, it's okay. I'll be alright you don't need to stay.”

Shawn walks over to you and cups your cheek, looking down at you fondly. “I'm not going to leave you alone while you're running a fever. It's not in my blood to do that, and I think you know it. I'll check you over fully when I get back.”

“But we've only known each other for two weeks. Why would you want to stay and help me?”

“Because I care about you, and also I'm a doctor y'know. It's in my nature to heal the sick.”

A flush rises on your cheeks and it has nothing to do with the fever. The way he is looking at you, golden brown eyes catching the light of your lamp beside the bed, staring at you softly but determined. His hand is warm, soft, big...you never want him to stop touching you. You never want this moment to end.

“You look so sleepy and kissable right now,” Shawn murmurs, thumb stroking your cheek. You close your eyes and he steps closer to you, legs against yours over the edge of the bed. “I guess I'll have to take a raincheck huh?”

“Mhmm,” you hum and his hand slips away from your face. You lean forward, chasing the touch, but he's gone. You open your eyes to see him closing the front door quietly.

Shawn returns quickly, a little bag of supplies from the clinic in tow. You sit up as he walks into your bedroom and sets the bag on the bed. His sweater is soaked and it's then you notice the faint sound of rain on the roof. He grabs the bottom of his sweater and tugs it up over his head, revealing a grey tee shirt beneath. His tee slips up a little and you get a peek at the trained chest hiding under there. You feel like passing out and again it has nothing to do with the fever.

“C’mere,” he mutters, pulling a digital thermometer out of the bag. It's one of the kind that you swipe across the forehead. He presses it to your skin and slides across. It beeps. “A hundred and one. I knew you had a fever.”

“I just need to sleep.”

“Well yes but you also need some Tylenol to bring the fever down. I brought some from my desk at the office.” Shawn digs through the bag and pulls out a bottle of Tylenol. He gets up and goes to the kitchen to get some water for you. “Take two for now,” he says and waits for you to swallow the pills with the water. He pulls your desk chair over and sits before he takes your face in one hand, turning your jaw to look at him. He gently pulls your cheek down on each side with his thumb so he can see your lower eyelids. “Looks good, how's your throat?” He puts his hand along the sides of your throat and massages upward gently.

“Sore,” you mumble and he nods. You try to look anywhere but at him because your heart is racing. This is very close and intimate.

“You're swollen. Probably from irritation from the drainage.” He grabs something from his bag and you see it's one of the ear scope things with a light on it. He turns your head and peeks in each ear. “Say ahh,” he says, grabbing a tongue depressor from the bag. You open your mouth and he takes a look at your throat. “You need some antibiotics. I think you've got an upper respiratory infection starting. I'll write up a prescription.”

“I'm that sick? Can't I just take some cold medicine?”

Shawn looks at you seriously. “Cold medicine isn't going to take care of an infection, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you flush, looking away.

“I'll get the prescription called in to pick up in a while. Are you hungry yet?”

You shake your head. “I just want to sleep.”

“Alright. I'm going to call in the antibiotic and pick it up now then. When I get back I'll stay until the fever comes down,” he says, packing his stuff into his bag and pulling up the number for the local pharmacy on his phone.

You settle down into the blankets and roll on to your side, facing Shawn as he walks along the side of the bed, pacing, waiting for the pharmacy to answer. His hand comes down and pets your hair back softly when he pauses for a moment. You glance up and he starts speaking to someone on the other line. He keeps his hand in your hair, fingers flexing gently against your scalp. His petting relaxes you and you find yourself falling asleep easily as he talks low and soft to the people on the other end of the phone about the prescription.

_____________________

Shawn leaves at some point because you hear the front door close but you don't wake up enough to register what time it is or how long you've been asleep. The door opens again and you stir, rubbing your eyes and watching as Shawn comes into view.

“Sit up sweetheart,” he says softly as he brings your chair over to sit beside you again. You do as he says and sit up, head pounding in your skull and nose clogged up. “I have your medicine.”

He rifles through the plastic bag on his lap and pulls out a little bubble pack of pills.

“I don't want to take anything else,” you whimper. The thought of swallowing anything was daunting. Your throat felt like you swallowed a bunch of cacti already. “Can't I just sleep.”

Shawn places his fingers against your lips with the pill and you open up for him. He sets it on your tongue and hands you your water bottle. “The sooner you get this in your system the better.”

You swallow with much effort and lay back. Shawn grabs his thermometer and presses it to your forehead, reading the digital screen and shaking his head. He doesn't say anything but you know you still have a fever.

“Thank you,” you mumble, curling into your pillows.

Shawn leans down and kisses your temple. “It's what I do. I'll be in the living room if you need me, you can rest now.”

_____________________

It's dark when you wake up again. Your first thought is Alice. She had been alone all day and now it's past dinner time, she must be wondering where you are. You push the blankets away and shuffle out of the bedroom, grabbing your keys from your purse as you go.

You manage to get to the bottom of the stairs and open the door before you realize that you don't have anything to protect you from the rain. It's pouring outside and it's freezing cold. Oh well. It's just a few feet to the shop door.

You step out into the rain and immediately regret it. It's icy cold and the wind is blowing so it's literally pelting you with what feels like actual ice chips. Your sweater is soaked, leggings soaked, slippers barely keeping the rain rushing down the sidewalk off of your feet. Your hands are shaking, rattling the keys as you try to open the door. It's too much. You're freezing. It has to be around forty degrees and the wind is making it colder.

Frustrated tears run down your face and you let out a chest aching cough. Your hands are too cold and wet to get the key in the lock and you can see Alice at the window meowing.

“Hey!”

You turn and Shawn is standing in the doorway to the stairs. He sees you in the little alcove where the shop door is and makes a bee line for you. You slump against the door and he wraps his arms around you, his chest warm against your back. “What are you doing out here? It's sleeting and you're sick. Are you trying to develop pneumonia?”

“Alice,” you cough, pointing at the window. “She needs to have dinner.”

Shawn looks at Alice in the window of the darkened shop. He takes the keys from you and pockets them. “I'll feed Alice in a minute, you need to get warm now. Your skin is freezing cold and you're going to get worse.”

“But I can't-”

“Trust me, I can feed Alice. Please, come back inside with me.”

You decide to trust him. You know he will feed her and pet her but she wasn't the one sick and freezing to death right now. She wasn't going to starve. You realize that and let Shawn walk you back up to your apartment. You undress, his back to you and you put on some sweatpants and a hoodie. As soon as you're dressed he heads down to the shop, promising he will be back soon. He says he's going to feed Alice and get a change of clothes from his apartment.

A few minutes after Shawn leaves you're almost asleep and your phone rings. It's Nani. It's morning for her on the other side of world and after a few more rings you pick up. “Hey, what's up? How was your day?”

“Well for starters, Shawn is at my place, I'm freaking out.”

“What?! Whoa hold on. Is he there now? You sound like shit, are you okay? Are you hallucinating?”

You chuckle and end up coughing. “I'm sick, an upper respiratory infection Shawn says. We were at the market and I was feeling horrible so he brought me home. Anyway he won't leave until my fever is down, but he's gone home for some clothes and he's feeding Alice.”

“Bless him.”

“This isn't exactly how I pictured him staying over y'know?”

Nani laughs. “Of course not, but I'm glad he's there with you. What if he wasn't around? You'd be miserable.”

“I'm still miserable even with him around. I don't want the guy I have a thing for to be taking care of me like a sick kid.”

“He cares about you, obviously. It sucks that you're sick because otherwise I'd tell you to make a move. The guy must be seriously into you.”

“I think he is and I'm definitely into him too. But being sick and having him dote on me is not how I pictured starting a relation...ship...” You trail off as Shawn walks into the bedroom with a smirk on his face. You'd never even heard the front door open. You could die of embarrassment. In fact you wish someone would just off you right then and there.

“Aren't you supposed to be resting?” Shawn says cooly, walking over and holding his hand out for the phone. “Doctor’s orders.”

Nani yells and you hang up on her, passing the phone to Shawn. He sets it aside and slings his bag over his shoulder. “I'm going to go change in the bathroom. When I'm done would you like some tea? Soup? Anything?”

“Some soup would be good. I have a can of beef vegetable in the cupboard next to the fridge.”

“Okay. Rest while I make it. I'll get a few more Tylenol and check your fever again too.”

“Thank you,” you mutter and he stops in the doorway, looking over at you. “You don't have to do this.”

“I know, but I want to,” he smiles and pushes off the doorframe, heading to the bathroom to change.

_____________________

Shawn spends the night with you, sleeping on the couch so he wouldn't risk getting sick. Your fever ends up breaking around midnight and the antibiotic and some over the counter decongestant samples that Shawn brought from the clinic finally seem to relieve some of your congestion and over all sludge feeling.

You wake up late the next morning, your phone having died some time in the night since you hadn't put it on the charger. There's a sticky note on your bedside table along with a few more cold medicine, your antibiotic and a new bottle of water. You sit up, rubbing your eyes and you let out a nasty cough. You still felt like garbage but at least it wasn't total shit now.

You grab the note and it's from Shawn of course. He says he fed Alice at seven this morning and locked up. The keys are on the hook by the door and he will stop by at lunch to check on you. You set the note down and take the medicine. You find your way to the kitchen and there is a note on the microwave. It says that there is a bowl of soup in the fridge if you're hungry. A soft smile spreads across your face. Shawn was such a sweetheart.

A bowl of soup, a hot shower and a dryer warmed sweatshirt later and you're ready to go down to the shop, though you really want to go back to bed. You put your boots on and grab a blanket off the couch in case you get a chill and make for the shop. Once you're outside you see Frank standing outside of the shop with a bag, peeking in the windows.

“Morning Frank,” you say and hardly recognize your own voice.

“Oh! There you are. I was starting to wonder if something happened.”

“Just a little late. I'm a little sick, and I overslept,” you chuckle as you open the shop door. Frank follows you in and waits for you to greet Alice and get set up behind the counter.

“I got a few books!” Frank cheers, eyes crinkling happily as he places three titles on the counter. “I know you said I don't have to, but I like bringing you books.”

“Thank you Frank. What can I get you?” You go to your lotion shelf and Frank waves his hand at you.

“Nothing today. We're still good to go at home. I did want to ask you something though.”

“Of course.”

Frank leans over the counter and drops his voice as if someone was around that could hear him. “When was the last time you talked to your parents?”

His question stuns you. It was the last thing you ever expected to hear, and somehow it made your stomach sink. “Um, I'm not sure. Maybe when I was thirteen, so, about nine or ten years ago?”

“Rumor has it down at the Bay Bar that they're back in town. I thought I should let you know, in case you wanted to dodge them. I know you aren't close and all and they kinda left you with Grace.”

“Thank you Frank. I'm glad you warned me, though I'm not sure what they could possibly want. I'm sure they're just docked here with the rest of their ship's crew.”

Frank shrugs. “Maybe you're right, we got some fishing boats in a few days ago that are docked while storms die down on the ocean.”

You nod. “Thanks for the books by the way,” you smile, looking at the novels. “I'm sure they're just what someone is looking for.”

“Oh you betcha!” Frank smiles, giving a thumbs up and heading for the door. “See ya next time kiddo!”

You wave Frank off and collect the books from the counter to put by your computer. You would look into them a bit later after you finished filling some online orders from the weekend.

Noon comes quickly and you're just wrapping up your last shipment to take to the post office when Shawn walks in the door. A gust of cold air washes across your face and you look up from the back counter. Shawn has a bag in his hand that looks like take out from Dixie's Diner down the street.

“What a gentleman, you've brought me lunch huh?” You smile softly as you turn around.

Shawn chuckles and sets the bag on the counter. “I didn't have enough time to make homemade chicken soup this morning, so Dixie's will have to do.”

You walk around the counter and lean on it beside him. “A man who can cook and heal the sick? You must be an angel.”

“And you're supposed to be resting. How are you feeling?” he hums, tucking some hair behind your ear. His touch sends fire through your veins. “You're very chatty.”

“I am?”

“Yes, and I like it. I like hearing what's going on in that head of yours,” he grins, and you roll your eyes and blush, dropping your head and tucking your face into your arm resting on the counter. “You're so cute.”

“Stoppppp.”

“Alright, alright I'm done teasing.” He lays his hand on your shoulder and rubs lightly. “How's your head and your chest?”

You straighten up and his hand falls away. “They're doing alright. I took the medicine you left and I've been drinking hot tea when I can, but I've been busy. I've been trying to take it easy though.”

“Well at least you're taking it easy, seeing as you aren't resting. You should listen to your doctor y'know.” You flush and turn away from him. He chuckles. “I saw you had a little rush earlier. A travel bus?”

“Yeah, they come through sometimes on the way up the coast. It wasn't too bad. Mostly older people looking for gifts or something to pass the time,” you say, returning your attention to him and glad for the subject change.

Shawn hums. He opens the lunch bag and takes out a styrofoam bowl and a little bottle of orange juice. “I hope you like mixed fruit because it's the only side they had today,” he laughs pulling out a second foam bowl.

“Of course I like it,” you chuckle. You pop open the lids and despite your stuffy nose, you can almost smell the warm chicken soup. “Thank you so much.”

“Anytime.”

“You didn't get yourself something?”

Shawn shakes his head and rubs his neck. “I actually have appointments all afternoon. I only have another minute or two before I gotta get back.”

“Oh, okay. No problem. I'll see you after work?”

“Yes,” he smiles and leans in. Your heart races and you can't even breathe as he gets closer. He kisses your forehead and pulls back beaming like the sun itself. “I'll stop by before you leave.”

“O-okay. Bye?”

“Bye,” he says smoothly as he makes for the exit, leaving you dumbfounded with your soup and a curious Alice who has jumped up on the counter.

_____________________

Shawn is waiting for you when you walk out of the shop and lock up. He's leaning against the door to your stairway and he looks exhausted. His eyes are closed, arms folded across his large chest, the setting sun warming his skin and making him practically glow. He's a sight to be seen.

“Hey,” you murmur and he opens his eyes, sun catching them too. So beautiful. You never want this moment to end. “Don't move.”

“Mmkay?” He smiles, remaining still at your request. He watches you as you pull your phone out and hold it up to take his picture. “What are you doing?”

“Capturing a moment.”

“A moment?”

You lower your phone and walk up to him. “You look amazing in this light. I wanted to remember it.”

Shawn drops his arms and reaches for your hand, fingers just barely catching yours. “You look amazing too.”

“Shawn stop, I'm sick, you know I look like death warmed over.”

“You don't really,” he steps closer, hands coming up and he twirls his fingers around some stray hairs by your ears, looking down at you with his eyes so soft and full of adoration. “Believe me, I've seen death warmed over.”

“Yeah yeah.”

“Enough with the flirting, I wanted to make sure you're doing alright.” He lays his palm on your face and his big hand covers your cheek and jaw. “You don't feel too warm. You took your medicine?”

“Yes, with lunch.”

“Good girl,” Shawn grins and you swallow thickly. “Take your third dose tonight before bed and please just rest.”

“I promise I will.”

Shawn leans down and kisses your forehead, cradling your cheeks in each hand. “I know you will. I'll see you tomorrow?” You nod and he steps back. “Good night sweetheart.”

“Good night.”

_____________________

A few days pass with Shawn checking up on you before and after work. It's nice and you love seeing him every day, even if it is just for a few minutes. It's Friday again and you've closed up early to mail some packages and head to the store to pick up your groceries for the week when you run into your friend Katie. She is visiting her parents for a week and she happens to have been filled in on the local rumor mill. She knows that you and Shawn have been seen together and she's infinitely curious.

“Sooo, what's he like? Is he very serious and professional all the time?” Katie asks as you round the corner of the small over the counter medicine isle.

“He's nice, really sweet and thoughtful,” you trail off as you browse the selection for the medicine Shawn had given you for congestion last week. You figure it'll be good to have on hand if you do get sick again if you don't use it all. You're feeling much better, still a little congested in your head, but it not too bad. A few more doses of the medicine and you'd be good to go.

“You've got it bad for him.” Katie says as she grabs a box of bandaids and holds it up as you raise your eyebrows at her. “Mika gets hurt every time he turns around. Toddlers, y'know.”

You nod. “Anyway, I do not have it bad for Shawn. We're just getting to know each other. It's only been a few weeks, a month now maybe.” It felt like it had been so much longer.

“Uh huh. Any dates planned for this weekend?”

“No, he's going into the city I think.”

Katie grins and leans against the cart. “We should go into the city too. I'll get my mom to watch Mika and we'll have a girls night.”

“Really? I haven't been out since Nani moved to the Philippines with Erik until the wedding.”

“Yeah, you need this, we're having a girls night. This weekend. Pack a bag girlie, because we're gonna get wasted and paint the town red!”

You let out a laugh. You missed Katie, she was always the wild friend. Having a baby and being a full-time chemical engineer didn't slow her down at all it seemed. She was amazing, someone you aspired to be one day. She was so lucky.

_____________________

You're at the post office standing in line to send out some books that you had been putting off when you feel someone standing a little too close behind you. You shuffle forward and they move with you. It's annoying. You shuffle again and turn to look this time and see it's Shawn.

“Hey,” he chuckles and you roll your eyes.

“I thought you were some creep.”

“Nope just Shawn.” He folds his arms and leans against the packing counter to your right. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m fine. I got more of the medicine you suggested for me. The one for my stuffy head.”

Shawn nods and hums. “Any plans this weekend?”

“Yeah, actually my friend is in town and we're going to have a girls night in the city. Why?”

“Oh, well my plans fell through so I was going to ask you out since the farmers market got cut short y'know? That's okay though, no problem. I'll give my friend Thomas a call.”

You move forward with the line and look back at him. “You sure? You sound kind of disappointed.”

“No, no of course not. Well, a little, but not because you have plans. I was really looking forward to seeing some friends this weekend. It's no big deal.”

“Next weekend?”

“Yeah,” Shawn smiles. “I have an idea of something we can do. If you're up for a bit of a drive.”

“No problem. I like driving with you, you're good company.”

Shawn chuckles. “It's a date then?”

“It's a date.”

_____________________

The weekend comes and it's Saturday night and you find yourself at the end of the night in a bowling alley in the city with Katie and a table full of shots behind you. The two or you had been shopping all day and trying different food places around the city. Because the day out wasn't enough, Katie suggested bowling and drinks, a favorite girls night out activity. It's almost midnight and cosmic bowling has just started. You're three shots down, plus a daiquiri you had at dinner, and it's getting hard to throw the ball anywhere but directly in the gutter.

Some guys from a nearby lane wander over and start chatting you and Katie up. Katie's all about flirting, she's single after all. Mika's dad walked out when he was born three years ago. You however are not about that flirting life. In fact one could say you have no game and your life time scores are basically in the negatives.

“I like your dress,” a guy named Dave says and smiles at you as you take a seat. “It's very flattering.” His eyes were clearly on your ass moments ago.

“Thank you,” you mumble uncomfortably.

“So...are you from the city?” You shake your head. “Cool cool...um, so are you single?”

You roll your eyes. What a pick up line. “No I'm not.” It's not technically a lie. You were seeing Shawn though neither if you had discussed it being an actual thing. It's was still early in your relationship.

“Oh...well I mean I don't see him here.”

Katie walks over and leans on the table. “Yeah, she's dating some hot shot doctor.” She rolls her eyes. “You're way too broke for her Dave.”

“Katie!”

“Well okay then,” Dave says angrily and gets up to go join his friends.

“What? You didn't want to talk to him anyway. I could practically see the soul leaving your body as he spoke. You're welcome.”

“You didn't have to be so rude, jeez.”

Katie glances over to a few of his friends who are eyeing her long legs in her short skirt. She gives a cute wave. “Guys like Dave over there don't know how to quit. I saved you from an evening of a nagging man baby’s company.”

“Can we go soon?”

“Why? We just got started.”

You sigh and put your head in your arms. The alcohol is making you dizzy, and combined with the black lights and the neon colors, you feel sick. “I don't know how much more I can do. I feel like I'm going to puke. It's been a long day.”

“Alright,” Katie calls the guys over and offers them the remaining shots on the table. The two of you leave with a few more frames left on the lane but neither of you care. You call for an Uber and wait outside the bowling alley.

Ten minutes turn into twenty and before you know it you've been waiting nearly an hour. Katie called for an Uber too but no one showed up for her either. You can't walk and Uber is the only service in the city who will drive after midnight that isn't a sketchy cab service. There are some guys close by who look like they've just come out of a nearby bar and they're chatting, glancing your way. It makes you uncomfortable.

“Can you call anyone?” Katie asks, rubbing her ankle where her heel strap rubbed it raw. She's too concerned with her foot to notice the guys. “Just call the Uber again.”

You stare at your phone and flip through your contacts. No one was going to be awake and everyone you know is in Roselake. Well, everyone but one person. Shawn. He was in the city this weekend, but you didn't want to bother him at almost one in the morning. You glance at the guys across the street. One is gone but the other two are still leering.

“What is it? You're making a face,” Katie slurs, more than half drunk and partially asleep.

“I could call Shawn but...I'd probably make him mad.”

“Well do you think he'd want you to walk to your hotel?”

You sigh and press the call button. Katie is right. Shawn picks up after two rings and you're surprised. “Yeah, hey Shawn. It's me.”

“What's wrong?” he asks sleepily. Maybe you had woken him up, but he'd answered so fast it seemed more likely he was awake.

You look over at Katie and she looks passed out against the railing of the steps. Extremely unhelpful. “I'm in the city at the Big Tex bowling alley. Our ubers haven't showed up and we can't walk to the hotel. I'm so sorry for this, is there any way you can get us?”

“Fucking Christ...of all places. Yeah. I'll be a couple minutes, I'm at home.”

“But I thought you were in the city? Wait...damnit. You did say you cancelled your plans.”

“It's fine. I'll be there.”

“I'm so sorry,” you mutter, voice breaking as you are overcome with guilt. He sounded angry with you and you know you shouldn't have called.

“No it's fine, I'd rather get you home safe. I'll be there in a few, just hold on.”

Shawn arrives fifteen minutes later, though the drive from Roselake should be a twenty five minute drive at the legal speed limit. He pulls up in his Jeep and Katie wakes up. She's pretty out of it as you and Shawn load her into the back seat with a little effort. Shawn closes the door and leans against it to stare at you. It's not until then that you realize he's wearing a pair of rectangular wire frame glasses. Something you didn't know about him yet. His gaze is indiscernible. Disappointed? Curious? Perhaps both.

“Please don't be angry at me.”

“I'm not,” he says softly. He steps forward and lays his hand on your cheek. “I'm glad you called me.”

“I thought you were going to chastise me. You sounded angry when I asked you to get us.”

Shawn smiles, chuckling a little. “You and your friend picked the worst part of town to get drunk in. The Uber won’t pick people up over here after ten at night because it's gotten so bad. I was just so worried that something bad had happened when you called me and said where you were. I'm sorry I came off harsh. I really am relieved you're alright and not hurt.”

You wrap your arms around him and he holds your head against his chest. “I was scared something would happen to us. There were guys who looked sketchy over there and then Katie passed out...God if I couldn't have called you who knows what would have happened.”

“Don't worry about that. Let me take you home.”

“We booked a hotel room for the night. At the Estates.” Shawn hums and says he'll take you there then.

A short drive and Shawn helps you out of the Jeep and Katie is out as well and leaning on you for support. You and Shawn help her walk into the building. On the way she trips and ends up almost falling, resulting in your balance going off and you falling on one knee on the way into the hotel room. Your knee is skinned, rug burned and jarred real good.

You head to the bathroom and Shawn gets Katie to her bed as she says something about him being such a hero. Mostly her words are nothing but slurred babbles. She's out cold before Shawn can help her get her shoes off.

You look up from your seat on the toilet in the bathroom to see Shawn leaning against the doorway. You have a cold rag over your knee and you're afraid to look at it again. It was pretty scraped when you put the rag on.

“You look too good right now,” you mumble, looking down at the rag. “Go away. I'm a mess.”

“Hey,” he starts softly, stepping in and kneeling before you. “You're not a mess. You're tired and a little drunk and your knee is scraped up.” He tries to lift the rag off but you hold it tighter. “Let me please.”

You release it at the soft pleading look he sends up at you. It's kinda gross. There's like little rolls of skin where it skidded on the carpet and it's all red and bleeding in a few spots. “I didn't know you wore glasses,” you say, changing the subject as he dabs at the bloody spots.

“I don't like to wear them. They make me look dorky.”

“No they don't,” you say with a hiss as he touches a particularly tender spot. “I like them.” Shawn hums and squeezes some water over the scrape. You let out a yelp and he presses the rag to it again. “I can take care of it. It's no big deal. You can go back to your place.”

Shawn gives you a look that says you know damn well he won't leave. You knew he wouldn't. “I'll go see if the desk has any first aid supplies.” He stands and kisses your head before disappearing.

You're left sitting there listening to Katie's soft snores and thinking about how good Shawn was. He was comfortable, caring and over all an amazing man. You feel lucky to know him, to have a relationship begin with him. Never had you felt a connection the way you did with him so quickly and it scares you, but also makes you feel relieved. It was like now was your time to find someone, and your grandma was right all along. Good things come to those who wait, and you sure did wait.

A few minutes later, the door to the room opens and it's Shawn who is returning with some gauze and tape for you. He bandages you up and helps you to bed. Katie is snoring loudly now, sprawled out sideways on her bed in her dress, one heel on still. You manage to change into your night shirt but skip your pants. The thought of wrestling your bandaged leg into a pair of flannel bottoms seemed too daunting.

Shawn gets you settled and when you think he's about to leave he doesn't. He turns off the bathroom light and heads for the door but instead of going out, he locks the deadbolt and turns around, joining you on the bed. It shocks you a bit. It seemed so forward of him.

“You're not staying with us.”

“You're in no shape to be left alone. Katie might need help if she wakes up and gets sick. You can barely put pressure on your leg. How am I supposed to just leave you here?”

“It's not that bad. It's just scraped up. I'm fine. I can handle Katie too.”

Shawn sighs. “Please let me stay?”

What would it hurt? “Fine. You're such a mother hen, yknow that?”

Shawn settles down into the blankets and faces you. “It's part of being a doctor I guess.” He takes his glasses off and sets them behind him on the nightstand. “Now go to sleep.”

“Easier said than done.”

Shawn reaches over and lays his hand on your side, thumb rubbing comfortingly along your ribs. “Is your knee bothering you that bad?”

“My head is pounding too.”

“Ahh. Come here.” He sits up and pats his lap. You move over and lay your head on his folded legs, looking up at him. He brushes your hair back when you get settled and you can't help but wonder how he looks good from this angle. “Can I try something?” You nod and he holds your head, thumbs rubbing into your temples.

Immediately the pounding lessens and you close your eyes and let his hands work magic on your head. You find yourself drifting off quickly, the throbbing in your leg easing up too, but probably from the pain reliever you took. The last thing you see as you try to open your eyes before the sleep takes you, is Shawn smiling down at you softly, knowing he's done his job and that your comfortable.

_____________________

The sun pours in through the thin curtains and casts streams of light across Shawn's sleeping form. He looks soft, vulnerable and relaxed. His one arm is over his head, the other across his chest. His mouth is hung open, soft lips parted ever so slightly and you can hear his slowed breathing in the silent room. This moment would be perfect to capture and you reach for your phone on your nightstand to do just that.

Shawn stirs, shifting his legs and scratching his chest as you move. You grab the phone quickly and turn back to get the photo. You're too busy trying to get the camera open and a low light setting on to notice that Shawn is awake and watching you, that is until you hold the phone up and he looks smug that he's caught you.

“What are you doing?” He asks with a sleepy grin.

“I was...just...”

“Capturing the moment? You seem to do that a lot with me.”

A blush spreads across your cheeks and down your neck. “Sometimes I'm not sure you're real, so I want to have proof.”

“Mmmhmm.” He sits up and takes your phone. “Just how often do you do this? Should I take a look, hmm?”

“No. Shawn give it back. It's mine.”

Shawn looks down at the phone in his hand and raises his eyebrows. The photo on your lock screen is the one of him outside the shop the other day. He smiles, the balls of his cheeks going pink as he hands the phone back to you. “If you want to take pictures with me, you just have to ask.”

You shake your head. “I don't like pictures of myself. I'd rather just see you.”

Shawn grabs his phone and his glasses off the nightstand. He opens up his phone and turns it to show you a picture on his lock screen. It's you. You're talking to someone out of photo and you're laughing. You're wearing his sweater and your hair is a little messy, but it's actually cute.

“When did you take that?”

“Last week. I stopped in to check on you but you were busy with a lady and her kids. I heard you laughing and I knew I had to get a photo. It's probably creepy. I'm sorry.”

“No, it's not. I mean we're kind of together, it's not like you're a stranger or something.”

“Kind of together?”

“Yeah? We haven't discussed anything?”

Shawn puts his phone down and smiles softly. “Can we discuss it now or-”

“Holy shit I'm going to throw up,” Katie says loudly as she rolls off her bed and runs to the bathroom. The sound of her puking ruins the moment entirely. How long had she been awake? Katie was one to snoop and be a fly on the wall of the rumor mill but you really hope she was asleep while you had been talking to Shawn.

“I'll check on her,” Shawn says softly, getting up and disappearing into the bathroom.

It's not long before you pack up your bag and get Katie's squared away while she sips on some soda from a vending machine in the lobby. She was so hungover she wasn't even giving you shit about Shawn staying the night. She looked miserable.

“Should I drive you home Katie?” You ask as you approach her car in the lot outside. Shawn has his arm around you for support since your knee is still hurting pretty bad.

“No, no I'm fine. I'm doing much better now. Go home with Shawn. Your knee is more important than my headache.” Katie unlocks her car and tosses her bag in the back. “Go on, we had our fun. You need to get your leg up.”

Shawn grips your side and you look up at him. “She's right, you do need to get your knee up. I'd like to look at it and make sure nothing is wrong.”

Katie waggles her eyebrows at you. “Let Dr. Shawn take care of you.” She leans in and wraps her arm around you in a hug. “Don't let him go, he's a good one,” she whispers in your ear and and you nod.

“I'll call you?”

“Anytime.” Katie gets in her car and pulls out, waving as she left you and Shawn together.

Shawn holds you tighter and you lean your head on his chest. “Now, how about that conversation we were having earlier?”

“Let's get to the car first big guy,” you say softly and he lets out a laugh. You knew last night changed a lot of things. Especially how you felt about each other.

_____________________

“So, would you like to be my girlfriend?” Shawn asks a few minutes from home. It's out of nowhere and you're taken aback by it. The two of you had been quiet for the majority of the drive until now.

“Really? I mean we've only been out twice. It's not a little fast?”

Shawn glances over and puts his hand out for you to take and you do. “I don't know? But I do know I care about you alot and I really feel something when we're together.” He brings your hand up and kisses your knuckles. The gesture makes you flush and you can't help but wonder what those soft lips would feel like on yours.

“Let's see how our next date goes. I definitely feel something for you too and it's unlike any other guys I've been with. You're different, special.”

“I can wait,” he looks over at you with a cheeky grin. “But I'm not going to tell you what the date I have planned is, if you thought bringing it up would make me spill the beans.”

“What? No! I was not...okay I was thinking it just a little. Come on, what is it?”

Shawn laughs and turns down the street toward your place. “Nope, it's a surprise. Now, let's get you inside because I need to check that knee.”

Shawn assesses your knee once you're inside and says it's just bruised and you should ice it and stay off of it as much as possible. He helps you get set up in your bed, leg up on a stack of pillows and a gel ice pack tied onto it. He stays for a little while, laying with you until his phone rings. He goes into the other room to answer and when he returns he says he needs to go, that the call is important. You don't push for more information, knowing it was probably something work related.

“I'll bring breakfast for us tomorrow,” Shawn says softly, leaning down and placing a kiss on your forehead.

You reach up and lay your hand on his cheek. “You promise?”

“I promise. I just have to take care of something. I want to stay, I do.”

“I know. Go on.”

Shawn kisses your head once more, lingering just a moment. He hums, runs his hand over your leg before pulling away and leaving you to rest. He exudes so much love that it makes your heart swell. Katie's words run around in your head, don't let him go, he's a good one. That he was. That. He was.

_____________________

It's a few days later and you're feeling much better, your knee hardly aches and the scrapes have scabbed over nicely. Shawn stops by both mornings and evenings after work to check on you. He never stays long and you're not sure why that is. He seems a little out of it on the second day, like he was distracted, maybe even nervous. You don't ask about it, not wanting to push him. If he was still weird after work today then you would ask, though you can't help but suspect it had something to do with the phone call he took the other day.

It's five minutes to closing time and you're straightening up the shop when the bell dings. You turn around fully expecting Shawn but instead you find your mother standing there. It had been nearly ten years since you last saw or spoke to either of your parents. They may as well be strangers. You wouldn't call them your parents at all really.

“H-hey,” you say quietly.

“This place looks just like it did when Grace was alive.” Your mother, no, Sherry says as she steps closer.

“What do you want?” You ask a little bit harsher than you mean to. Sherry raises her eyebrows and you hold your ground, refusing to repeat or soften your words.

“That's really no way to talk to your-”

“Mother? Hardly.”

“I sent you money for everything, I sent gifts on your birthdays. I'm sorry I couldn't be here all the time. I had a job, a career on a fishing boat. I couldn't exactly bring a child along.”

You pull your sweater of Shawn's tightly around yourself. “No. You couldn't bring a child along. Maybe you should have thought about that before getting pregnant. Or at least made plans to find new employment after you had a child.”

“It was an accident.”

The bell dings and you look past Sherry to see Shawn walking in. Now was not the time. You didn't want to do this with him around. You never wanted him to meet Sherry. “I'm sorry we're closed,” you say, voice breaking a bit as your emotions get the best of you.

Shawn ignores your words and walks up to you, blocking your view of Sherry. “Is everything okay?” He asks in a low whisper, holding your shoulders and rubbing his thumbs back and forth softly over your collar bones. “You're clearly upset.”

You shake your head, face twisting up as you fight back tears. “She's my mom,” you explain hopelessly in an attempt to make him understand that he should go and let you deal with this. He doesn't get the memo though.

“Excuse me, we are having a conversation,” Sherry quips and Shawn turns to face her.

Shawn puts his arm around you and keeps you tucked close to his side. He's a pillar of comfort and you press yourself closer. “I would beg to differ. She's clearly uncomfortable, you should probably go.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me just fine.”

“Young man I am speaking with my daughter and I don't know who you are so-”

“I'm her...” he looks down at you, unsure of what to call you. “I'm a good friend.”

“Please leave Sherry,” you mumble, and Shawn curls his fingers into your side comfortingly.

“I'm not leaving until you fork over Tom and I's share of Grace's will.”

“Of course you want money,” you huff disgustedly. “You didn't want to come see your child you barely recognize, you just want money. What happened to all those fishing boat riches? Huh?”

Sherry picks up one of your display decorations and sneers at it. “That doesn't matter. I want my money.”

“There is no money for you. Grace left everything to me, because I'm the one who was there for her. I held her hand on her deathbed while you and Tom fucked off on some boat in the Atlantic! I watched her die and I mourned her! I mourned her and you couldn't even so much as pick up the fucking phone!”

Shawn holds on to your shaking form. His hand comes up to your hair and he turns your face into his chest as you start to cry. “Ma'am you should leave.”

“I'm not leaving until I get my inheritance money from my mother.”

“Get out or I'm calling the police,” you tremble, hand on your phone in your pocket. “I'm serious.”

“You are a greedy child, I'll be back with a lawyer. We'll see if there's no money then,” Sherry spits, turning and leaving the shop, slamming the door on the way out.

Tears spill over your cheeks, a sob wracking your body as silence fills the shop. All these years and your mother only wants money from you. Shawn gathers you in his arms and rubs your back, shushing you softly. You don't know how long he holds you but it feels like a long time as you let loose the pent up emotional turmoil from the last twenty three years of your life.

_____________________

The two of you end up in your apartment curled up on the couch watching a movie after the confrontation in the shop. You're sharing a blanket, curled into his side with his hand in your hair. It's comfortable and feels completely natural.

“Do you think she'll really get a lawyer?” You ask suddenly over the movie.

“She might, but it'll be a waste of her money if she can even afford it. The will was really all left to you right?”

“Yeah. Grandma didn't leave her anything at all. She isn't even mentioned. After they stopped trying to be some semblance of parents, Grandma was done with them. There wasn't much money anyways, just a bit of savings and the shop was all I received.”

Shawn hums. “Let her waste her money then, and don't speak to her directly again if you can. Let her lawyer speak to the curator of your grandma's will. They'll sort her out.”

You snuggle down into his side until you're laying your head on his lap, staring up at him. His lap is warm and you press your cheek against his stomach. “I'm sorry you had to deal with that, with her.”

“It's fine, drama happens. Believe me, my parents aren't perfect either.”

“Yeah?”

Shawn chuckles sadly. “Divorced when I was twelve. They lived in the same neighborhood for a while though, but god they couldn't have been more different. Dad was a hardass, always on me about grades and shit, always wanted me to be a doctor like him and here I am I guess. Mom was very much a free spirit and she remarried when I was sixteen and moved to Spain.”

“Did she come back and visit, or did you go see her?”

“Ha, right. My dad wasn't about to fund me a trip to Spain. The way he saw it she was gone for good and for the better. She called a lot, and we emailed each other frequently.” He scowls, sighing frustratedly. “I will never understand how you can hate someone you once loved and had a child with. It perplexes me the way he acted like she was the devil. I just don't know when it all changed.”

You take his hand that he's rested on your stomach. It's soft, the lemon balm you sold him seems to have worked wonders. “I guess we both have fucked up families.”

“Yeah, yeah we do. But we aren't our parents, that's what's important.”

“You're right.”

You both go quiet and watch the rest of the movie. Shawn is asleep by the end of it, head leant back on the cushions, mouth hanging open. You decide not to move, instead you use his leg as a pillow and fall asleep right there as well.

_____________________

A few days pass and you don't hear from Sherry at all. You almost wonder if she's just left town again. It's Saturday morning and it's chilly, a sweater and long sleeve shirt kind of day. Tonight is date night tonight and Shawn still hasn't told you where you're going or what you're doing. It's half past nine in the morning when you hear knocking on the door to the stairwell and you aren't expecting anyone so you jog down the steps and peek out the small window to see Shawn standing there.

“Hey you,” you smile and Shawn returns the smile warmly.

“Hey. I was wondering if you were ready?”

“Oh?” You told your head curiously. “Is this part of the secret date?”

Shawn chuckles, stuffing his hands into his pockets and kicking at something on the ground. “Ah, this is the date? Didn't you get my texts?”

You raise your eyebrows. “No?”

“Oh. Well, can you be ready to go now?” He grins sheepishly.

“Yeah, it's fine. Come inside. I'll get some better clothes on real quick.”

Shawn steps inside and follows you up the stairs, mentioning that you should dress warm and giving you a heads up that you will be outside. Since it's chilly you opt for a few layers and your hiking boots. You dig out of a pair of gloves and a scarf with a matching hat from your winter clothes tote in the storage closet and you're ready to go.

“You look very cute,” Shawn says as he takes your gloved hands and swings them. “Good thing, because I'll want some pictures.”

“What are we doing?” You laugh and he shakes his head with a playful grin.

A short car ride later and you're not too far outside of Roselake in a small town called Tarrytown. Shawn pulls into a big dirt parking lot and you see a huge sign that says Pumpkin Patch. You haven't been to a pumpkin patch since you were very young and you went on a school field trip.

“It's been so long since I've been to one of these. Oh my God. Is that a hayrack ride?” You squeal pointing to a tractor pulling a wagon with some people in it nearby.

“Yes it is, and they have fresh caramel apples I hear.”

“What are we waiting for?” You clamber out of the Jeep and Shawn is close behind.

A short wait for admission later and you're off, running with Shawn to get caramel apples and cider. The corn maze is next and Shawn can see over most of it because it's dried up so much but he won't tell you which way to go and laughs when you go to a dead end. You end up cutting through the corn walls in the end while Shawn chases you. He catches up at the exit and picks you up, spinning you around before he tosses you in a haystack.

The two of you go to a horseshoe pit near the line for the hayrack ride and play until the line goes down. Shawn insisted he wanted a more private ride but you didn't care. When you do finally board the ride, after beating him in two rounds of horseshoes, he shrugs his jacket off and puts it around you. You sit together nearest to the back of the tractor and you're the only ones on it since it's the smaller wagon that was rotating with the larger one.

Shawn puts his arm around you and you lean your head against him. The soft bumps and rattling of the wagon make you feel so happy and content with the moment. “Are you having fun?”

You glance up at his soft face as he smiles down at you. “Yeah, of course. This is amazing. I love this place.”

“Me too. I hope I can bring my kids here one day.”

“You want kids?”

Shawn shifts closer to hold you as the wagon goes over some big bumps. “Someday I do. I love kids, they're so interesting and full of excitement. I think I'd be a good dad.”

“Wow. Pretty deep conversation,” you smile and he clears his throat as if he is embarrassed. “I want kids too. I wanna give them an amazing life with two parents that love them very much and I want to give them everything I didn't or couldn't have.”

“You'd be a great mom. I bet you'd read to them every night.”

“Of course. What about you?”

“I'd read along with you, maybe act out some parts.”

You sit back and look at him with a smile so big it hurts your face. “With me, huh?”

“I mean hypothetically, like y'know...”

“Just admit it, you have thought about having a kid with me.”

Shawn turns bright pink all the way to his ears. “Oh come on do you have to tease me like that? We haven't even kissed. Why would I-”

You lean in quick and a bump presses your lips together a little harsher than you mean it to but it's sweet nonetheless. Shawn chases your lips as you start to pull away, his hand coming up to cup your jaw. He kisses you two more times, slow presses against your soft lips. “I've wanted to do that for so long,” you mumble, cheeks flushed.

“Me too.”

The driver announces that the ride is stopping and you pull away from Shawn to let him put his jacket back on. He helps you off the wagon and takes your hand in his, warm fingers slotted between your cold ones. Your last stop is the barn where there are pumpkins to be picked out and taken home. You and Shawn end up with one large pumpkin each and a bag full of little gourds and baby pumpkins because he couldn't decide on any to put back.

A long car ride later and you're sleepy and it's only a little after noon time. Shawn pulls up at the bookshop and you stir from your cat nap against the window. Everything feels sluggish and weird.

“Hey, we're home. I was going to ask if you wanted to carve out pumpkins but you seem really tired.” Shawn reaches across and puts his hand to your forehead. “Do you feel okay?”

“Yes, just got sleepy. Thank you for an amazing date. It was very fun,” you smile, head turned toward him.

Shawn leans over and kisses you softly, hand on your cheek as you smile sleepily and happily at him. “It was very fun. Now come on, let's get these pumpkins inside. We can carve them in a few days.”

_____________________

A full week passes before you hear anything more from Sherry. In fact you completely forget about her because you're spending all your free time with Shawn. He cooks you dinner at his place on Monday. You go to a movie on Tuesday. Wednesday and Thursday are nights in at your place. Friday he takes you down to the harbour and you walk on the beach. Saturday you go to a fair over in the next town and he tries to kiss you on the ferris wheel, but a gust of wind blows your hat off and smacks him in the face. Sunday is dinner at his place again, this time candle lit and extremely romantic.

You're on your way home from Shawn's place on Monday morning when you round the corner of your street and see the front door of the shop is standing open. Shawn stops the Jeep and puts his arm over your chest to keep you from trying to leave. “Don't get out. You don't know who could be in there.”

“But Alice, if she's hurt...” You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. “Why would someone do this?”

“I don't know. Do you think Sherry would do something like this? I know she was upset but...”

“Oh my God,” you laugh in disbelief, “you're absolutely right. She probably broke in to see if she could find the money that doesn't exist.”

“We need to call the police.”

You reach for your phone in your bag and as soon as you get it out, Sherry walks out of the shop. She has a purse with her and you can only assume the contents of your safe. What an absolute scum of a human being. You dial the police and make a report right there in the car while Shawn gets out and goes in to find Alice for you.

A few minutes later and Officer Jones arrives to asses the damage and theft. He takes pictures and statements from you and Shawn. Alice is fine, hiding in the supply closet until Officer Jones leaves. The whole situation is surreal. You knew Sherry was a piece of work, but good Lord you didn't peg her as a thief.

“I can't believe she took everything. Every last penny in the safe,” you groan, leaning forward with your head in your hands. “She took my savings for Nani's wedding that I hadn't deposited yet.”

“Babe, you're going to get it back,” Shawn says softly, rubbing your back. “They will catch her, it's a small town.”

“But what if she spends it? I'm fucked then.” You start to cry. “I won't be able to go to Nani's wedding. It's this next weekend too, I'm never gonna make it.”

“I'll get you a ticket.”

“What?” You wipe your eyes and stare at Shawn. “I couldn't ask that of you.”

“You're not asking, I'm offering,” he says, cupping your cheeks. “I want you to be with your best friend on her wedding day. You deserve it. You deserve a vacation, you work too hard.”

“It's so expensive.”

“I'm a doctor. I think I can afford to send you to the Philippines.”

You reach out and hug him close and he tucks your face into his shoulder. “Thank you, I promise I’ll pay you back.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I don’t want you to be fretting over paying me back the whole time. Consider it an early Christmas gift.”

_____________________

“He's paying for your ticket and your mother robbed you? Holy shit what kind of wild place has Roselake become since I left?” Nani laughs in disbelief.

“I know, it's absolutely insane. I can't believe it myself. My sleepy little life has become pretty crazy since Shawn showed up.”

“Speaking of which, how has things been with Dr. Dreamy?”

You flop back on the bed and sigh heavily. “Amazing. We've been seeing each other every night for the past two weeks. Can you believe he hasn't made a move on me yet?”

“What? How? Why? Is he one of those guys who save themselves for marriage or like does he have herpes or something?”

“Nani! God! No he's perfectly fine. I think he just doesn't want to rush things. We've kissed and made out a lot and got close a few times to something more.”

“Ohmygod. You better sleep with him before you come to the wedding. Lock that man down before you're gone for a week.”

“Yeah yeah, I'll see about that. I gotta go, it's time for dinner and he's taking me out. See you soon Nani, love you.”

“Love you!” Nani says with a kissy noise into the phone.

You hang up and get up to get dressed. Shawn said he was taking you somewhere nice for dinner since it would be the last night before you left for the Philippines. You're excited, assuming he's probably going to take you into the city. You can't wait.

_____________________

You were absolutely right. He picked you up and when you asked where you were going he said that it was a surprise but it was in the city. It takes a while, nearly twenty five minutes to get into the city from Roselake and then a little longer to get to your destination. Shawn rests his hand on your thigh for most of the drive and it gives you butterflies like crazy.

When you finally arrive at the restaurant Shawn chose, it's dark out, the street lights have come on and there are white Christmas lights strung around every tree along the street Shawn parks on. There are people everywhere, the place is crawling with excitement. The city was so different than Roselake, you would probably never get used to it.

“Come on,” Shawn says softly, taking your hand and leading you to the front doors of a very fancy looking old brick building. He pulls the door open and ushers you inside. “Mendes, party of two,” he says to the host at the podium nearby.

“Right this way,” the host says, leading the two of you past full tables and into a little alcove that had a window that looked out on the busy street.

“This place is really nice,” you laugh, glancing around at the decor. It's all very high end and posh looking. The waiter stops by and takes your drink order and leaves a few menus.

“It is really nice. I wanted to take you somewhere special,” Shawn smiles, looking down at the menu.

You eye him suspiciously. He was up to something. “Why's that?” you ask, leaning forward to get him to look at you.

“Well because you're going to be gone for a week and I wanted to make our last evening together nice.”

The waiter returns and takes your orders but you send him away for another minute. “Shawn, we could have just stayed home and had a good time with a movie and popcorn. Why does it feel like this is the last time we're going to see each other like in a bad way?”

Shawn raises his eyebrows. “What? No of course not. I'm just going to miss you.”

“Oh. Right.” You chuckle nervously. You can't help but feel like something was wrong, like there was something he wasn't telling you.

Dinner goes great, the food is amazing and Shawn keeps the conversation light. It feels strange, even though he was acting much the same as he always did. You couldn't shake the feeling. After dinner Shawn takes you out and around the downtown area. He shows you the hospital he worked at and you go to a park and look at the festive holiday lights display that's set up. The evening is a dream and if you didn't obviously know better, you'd say he would propose to you. It would actually be a perfect setting for it, but the two of you weren't at the point in your relationship. Hell. He hadn't even slept with you yet. Suddenly, on the drive home you realize how strange that is. You had been going out and seeing each other for nearly three months and he had only let you go as far as kissing and exploring with your hands. That bad feeling was coming back, twisting your stomach into a knot. You knew this was too good to be true.

Shawn pulls up and helps you out of the Jeep at your place. You can't help but think that he's going to still tell you something that was going to bring everything crumbling down around you.

“Thanks for dinner, and a great night,” you smile half heartedly, inching toward your door.

“You're welcome, I had a great time too,” he chuckles, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Do you still need me to pick you up tomorrow?”

Shit. That's right. He was taking you to the airport in the morning. “Yeah, yeah, thank you again.”

“Yeah,” he steps forward and lays his hand on your upper arm. He leans in and kisses you gently. “Goodnight darling.”

“Goodnight Shawn.” You turn and push open the door and head up the stairs slowly. You were disappointed to say in the least. You reach the top step and there's knocking at the door. Maybe you forgot something in the Jeep. You jog down the stairs and pull the door open. “What's the ma-”

Shawn leans in, hands coming up to hold your cheeks as he kisses you. Your body goes slack, hardly managing to keep you on your feet as he works his soft lips against yours hungrily. You grab for his jacket and pull him in, the door falling closed behind him. He walks you against the wall and only then does he pull away just enough to talk.

“I can explain,” he chuckles breathily. “I've wanted to do more for a very long time but I've been afraid to.”

“What? Why?” You lean up, kissing him softly, lips warm against yours. “You're pretty good at kissing and you're definitely good with your hands.”

“I was scared of moving too fast. I fell too hard too fast for a girl in college and it fucked me up when she left after we hooked up. I didn't want that again, not with you.”

“Shawn,” you whisper, bringing your hands up to cup his cheeks. “I'm way too into you to leave at this point.”

“I was really hoping you'd say that,” he grins, reaching around and hauling you up. You wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you up the stairs.

Shawn ends up staying the night, not that either of you get much sleep. He undresses you in the bedroom, slow and gentle, kissing along your shoulders and back the whole time. His mouth works wonders on your whole body, kissing, sucking, teasing places you didn't even know we're sensitive until he showed you. He's careful, checking with you every so often as he brings you to orgasm after orgasm. He fucks you nice and slow, rolling his hips into you and holding you close as he tells you how beautiful you are and how lucky he is to have you.

Post sex you're on the bed, cuddling, exploring each other lazily. His skin is soft and warm and you love the way he jerks when you ghost your fingertips up his stomach. Lazy kissing and touching leads to another round of slow loving sex, this time with you on top, him hugging you tight as he rolls his hips up into you. You're sure you've never had sex with anyone before Shawn, at least it didn't seem that way. Shawn made it seem like it was more than just getting off, more than just a game. He made you forget your very few exes, forget everything you'd experienced before and replaced it with the best feeling in the world. You know now you'd never had sex with someone who loved you, because this was loving sex. This was what it was supposed to be like.

_____________________

It's fifteen minutes until your flight and you and Shawn are literally running through the terminal to get to your gate. You’re on the phone with Officer Jones about Sherry and the break in the other day. They’ve recovered the money and she will be charged for breaking in entry. You let the officer know you’re on your way out of country for a wedding, and that you’ll pick up the money when you get back. You pocket your phone and Shawn raises his eyebrows as you tell him hurriedly that you will be getting your money back. Both of you had overslept, hitting the alarm at least twice before getting up and dressed. Shawn had thrown on his wrinkled clothes from date night, and you dressed in what might qualify as pajamas but who cared. You're sure you look like quite a pair running through the airport.

“Gate 2C is now boarding.”

Shawn grabs your suitcase, lifting it off it's rattling wheels and tucking it under his arm. The two of you make it to the security gate and you have just a second or two before last call for boarding.

“Last call for Gate 2C,” a security officer yells from a few feet away. You know she's yelling at you. Shawn passes you your suitcase and you hurry for the security turnstile.

“I'll see you in a week!” You yell back as you squeeze through the gate where the security officer takes your bag for screening.

“Be safe! I love you!” Shawn yells and you pause. Did he really just say I love you?

You can't go back, the officer is ushering you forward around the corner to the body scan area. You want to turn around and run back so badly, you had to know if what you heard was right. You can't even text him because you're phone is in a bin for scanning. Your heart is racing, hands sweaty. He didn't say that. He wouldn't say that. He probably said “I'll see you”. Yeah. That's what he said.

_____________________

Two connecting flights and fourteen hours later and you arrive at the resort where the wedding is being held. Nani is elated to see you but you're exhausted. She helps you settle into your room, even makes you some tea before leaving you to sleep. You finally get to text Shawn only to find out that your pay as you go plan has expired. You curse yourself for being so cheap and not signing up for a contract plan.

The next morning Nani wakes you up with last minute wedding plans. She says she has the perfect groomsmen for you to walk with. Frankly you don't care who you walk with as long as it's not Erik's friend Mike. He was a dick and you'd only met him once, but once was more than enough. She promises it's not Mike but she wants to surprise you so she won't tell you.

Dress shopping and fitting with Nani and three other girls is a nightmare. It's Erik's sister Maggie, Nani's sister Hana, and Nani's other best friend from college, Maija. No one can settle on one style but the color is not debatable. Nani wants light pink and that's that. By the end of the day you have a dress, shoes and an appointment made to get your hair done tomorrow before the wedding. You still don't know who you're walking in the wedding with but you can't care. You're exhausted. The second your head hits the pillow of your hotel bed you're out cold.

Post hair and makeup and you're at the chapel in the resort, waiting in a room for Nani's wedding planner, Tara, to usher you out to meet your groomsman. You're last in line but you don't mind. Tara comes in and says she's ready, your groomsman is waiting at the doors.

You follow Tara out and walk up to the guy standing with his back to you. His suit is black with a pale pink button down peeking out around the sleeves. He's tall, like a lot taller than you and he has soft dark curls. From behind he was cute, hopefully his face wasn't too bad either. Tara steps away and goes to get the ring bearer ready.

“Hi, I'm...” You trail off as you approach the guy and he turns to look at you. Your heart stops. Standing before you is Shawn. Here. In the Philippines at Nani's wedding. You have so many questions you don't know where to start. “What are you doing here?!” you manage to blurt out, still transfixed on the man before you.

Shawn laughs, his eyes crinkling and mouth open wide as he throws his head back. “I have my ways. I'll tell you later, we have a wedding to attend right now.” He put his arm out for you and you loop yours with it.

“You look good in a suit,” you whisper as you walk beside him to the altar. “I like the pink shirt.”

“You look stunning,” he grins, kissing your cheek before pulling away as he goes to join the other groomsmen. You can't help but stare at him in awe as the music begins to play and Nani walks in with her father. How did he get here? Who did he plan this with? So many questions and you would have to wait forever until you got any answers.

The ceremony is nearly over and Nani and Erik are exchanging the last of the vows. You glance away from them to see Shawn mouthing the words Erik is repeating and you raise your eyebrows. He hasn't seen you yet, and you're glad because you find yourself mouthing along to Nani's repetition as well. Erik's brother Jason elbows Shawn and he looks at you. You flush and he grins nervously.

Pictures follow the ceremony and you're sick of sucking your stomach in and posing after the first few minutes. You don't want to pose for a billion photos, you just want to talk to Shawn. Not only was he here and you don't know how, you need to know if he said I love you in the airport.

Another hour passes and you go from the chapel to the lawn of the resort that was set up for the reception. It's not until several toasts are made and food is served that you get to talk to Shawn.

You're on the patio turned dance floor when Shawn wraps his arms around you and lifts you up from behind, spinning you around. “You look so pretty I can't deal with it,” he mutters, pressing his face into your hair.

“Stopp,” you giggle and he sets you down, hands going to your pinned up hair. “Don't you undo this bun. Nani will kill you.”

“But...please? Your hair is so beautiful when it's down.” Shawn twirls his finger around a stray piece along your cheek. “I'm so glad I got to see you like this.”

“You still need to explain to me how and why you’re here.”

“Well,” he grins, looking over at Nani and Erik. “Erik and I actually went to school together. You were talking about Nani the other day and the name seemed so familiar but I couldn't figure out why, but then you mentioned the wedding and her fiance's name was Erik. And I knew the Erik I know was getting married soon too. I texted him and found out that it was the same person all along.”

“Wow, that's crazy. Of all the people you went to college with... ohmygod. Had Nani met you already?”

Shawn nods. “I've met her a few times in the past few years. Mostly at parties and stuff. Small world huh?”

You lay your hands on his chest and smile up at him. “Do you love me?”

“Wh-what?”

“At the airport, I swear I heard you yell that you love me when you told me to be safe. Am I wrong?”

Shawn flushes and clears his throat. You know you've caught him and he can't lie his way out of this. Not that he seemed like he was going to. “I uh...I said that. It was a slip of the tongue. Instinct y'know.”

“Mhmm, I hope so. It's a little early for I love you's.”

“It is, but I do care for you deeply and I'm very into you.”

“I'm very into you too,” you giggle. Shawn goes to say something but the high-pitched feedback of the microphone grabs your attention. It's Nani, she has grabbed the DJs microphone and is announcing she is going to throw the bouquet now. You roll your eyes as she points at you and urges you to join the crowd of single and unwed ladies around the front table.

Shawn kisses your cheek and pushes you forward. “Go get the bouquet, you know you want it.”

You laugh, yelling back, “You do know what it means when someone catches it right?”

“Of course I do! Go get it!”

You hurry to the front and Nani turns around, counting down from five before tossing it back. Pink petals fall across the table as the flowers soar through the air towards the group. An eruption of giggles and squeals break out around you. It's headed for you but you're pretty sure it's going to go over your head.

You reach for the bouquet as it sails past your fingertips. You turn to look back and see who has it and you're met with a solid chest to the face. It's Shawn. You look up and he's beaming. He lowers his arm and in in his hand is the bouquet.

“I think these are yours,” he whispers, handing you the flowers. “Good thing I could reach them for you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur as you take them and smell the roses. “I dunno if the superstition of the bouquet applies to groomsmen.”

“We'll have to find out.” Shawn grins and leans down, pressing his lips to yours and pulling you closer against him. There's an eruption of applause and whistles followed by someone shouting to look at the sky.

You pull back from Shawn and look up just as a falling star soars overhead, streaking across the darkened sky. “You should make a wish.”

Shawn hums, catching your gaze as you look to see if he is wishing. “I don't want to be too greedy. I made a wish on a falling star a long time ago. I think it already came true.” He leans down and kisses you softly, smiling as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Mine did too.”

_____________________

Ten Months Later

A small two story brick house sits across from the newly opened Roselake West Clinic on Main Street. It's old, an original Roselake residence that has been remodeled recently. In the driveway are two cars, a Jeep and a small hybrid car that's bright blue. Sitting in the window is a large black cat, staring at the birds landing in the trees in the front yard.

Inside there is a half put together home. Boxes labeled laundry, living room, bedroom and kitchen. Furniture sits where it was left by movers, an air conditioner hums throughout the house, cooling it on this warm summer day and in the bedroom is you, four months pregnant and frustrated.

“Shawn, do you know where my yellow sundress is?” You yell across the house as you dig through yet to be unpacked boxes littering the bedroom of your new house. “I can't wear jeans again, I'll suffocate!”

Shawn walks into the room and goes to the closet. He pulls out the exact yellow sundress in question and holds it up. “You hung it up with your other dresses last night.”

“Oh,” you walk over and grab it, flush with embarrassment. “Thank you.”

“You're starting to get baby brain.” Shawn steps close, hands on your belly that's starting to show. “Don't go totally crazy on me now.”

“Oh shut up,” you giggle. He rubs up and down your sides and pulls you into a hug. “I'm not going crazy.”

“I'd love you even if you were.”

You wrap your arms around him and he kisses your head. “I sure hope so. You signed up for this.”

“And I'd never back out,” he smiles, kissing your nose. He looks down at your belly and rubs gently. “Even if you make your mom crazy.”

“Shawn,” you groan and he chuckles.

“Alright I'm done teasing you. We need to get to the appointment with the wedding planner.”

“We need to get our house together too.”

You pull your sundress over your head and fluff your hair out behind you. Shawn gathers and braids it down the back for you before pulling you into a hug.

“Planner first, then lunch, then house? I know it's stressing you out and you need to nest. I promise we'll get it all sorted out today.”

“Pinky promise?”

Shawn hooks his pinky with yours and kisses your cheek. “I always keep my promises.”

“I know,” you rest your head back against his chest.

“Love you the most,” he murmurs, kissing your temple.

“Love you more.”

The End.

______________________________________

Please reblog if you enjoyed it. Please send me feedback via ask, reblog, reply or message. Thank you so much for everyone who supported me while writing this, I never could have done it with out you all. - A.

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