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floralseokjin · 3 years

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⤑ made-up love song v (m).

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher, never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago, and you’re unable to remember the last time you dated. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire.

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, eventual angst, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, fluff, smut; a shit ton of kissing, oral (f), seokjin likes eye contact, slight overstimulation, he also seems to have a slight potty mouth when turned on, romantic sex, protected sex, shower scene, oral (m), this chapter is basically just sex, enjoy! (yes, the dilf dick is b i g) lingerie described found here for the visuals ~ words; 9,572

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

Saturday couldn’t come soon enough. You were like a little kid at the lead up to Christmas. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this excited for something. Actually, on second thoughts, you couldn’t think of a time you were this excited for anything, period. And all over the prospect of sleeping with Seokjin, and definitely not in the innocent way… He had in no way explicitly stated that you’d be having sex this week, but the insinuation was heavy in the air. Everything leading up to this moment was suggesting come Saturday night you would not be sat in front of Seokjin’s 75” television watching boxsets…

On the morning of you decided to pack a few things in a small case. You definitely planned on returning home in the day if needed or bored while Seokjin was at work, but the essentials were required: underwear, pyjamas, a few outfits, toiletries and skincare, your iPad, miscellaneous chargers. Soojung on the other hand was acting like you were never coming back…

“I’m going to miss you.” She whined, having been hovering around you as you packed. “Leaving me alone with smelly Tae.”

In a bid not to be alone in the evenings she’d invited her smelly boyfriend over for the week, but although she sounded irked it was all just an act. God knows what they’d get up to while you were gone, you dreaded to think. On second thoughts, maybe it would be best to stay at Seokjin’s place all week… You had no clue what you’d walk in on in your own home.

“I won’t be gone the whole week. Besides, we can meet up for lunch and stuff.” You often visited her at the department store, perusing the food court until it was time for her lunch break. You weren’t secluded from the whole world while away. What did she think was happening?

She helped you fold your clothes in momentary silence, deep in thought it seemed. “What if you love it there and want to stay permanently Dilf mansion?”

You scoffed immediately, taking the small pile of t-shirts from her to pack away. “Soo, way to jump the gun.” You’d been dating barely six weeks, hadn’t even had sex yet, moving in together was number 1 on the highly unlikely list. Although, sliding in a couple of pairs of flats into the top pocket of your case and zipping it up, you hummed in consideration. “Dilf mansion does have a ring to it though…”

Soojung’s attention was on another pile of clothing now – one you would be wearing this evening to leave for Seokjin’s house. Her fingertips brushed along the delicate baby blue lace of your lingerie, sitting on top of the pile and she looked up at you and grinned wickedly. “You’re going to knock his socks off with this.”

You and her had spent yesterday browsing the mall with a very important task. To decide on the most perfect lingerie set. Knowing Seokjin for a while know, you’d noticed he had an inclination for the colour blue, so your chosen piece had to be a winner – practically see-through, littered in beautiful lace flowers. You were well and truly prepared for tonight, you were a woman on a mission.

“His Dilf socks,” you corrected your best friend, both of you instantly exploding into a fit of giggles.

Arin had left with her grandparents this morning, and as much as Seokjin was eager to get this weekend started and see you immediately, he actually had a few things he needed to take care of at work. It wasn’t until around 5pm that you got into your car to make the short journey, Soo waving you off proudly like you were about to attend your graduation. You were honestly quite calm given the circumstances, although one look at Seokjin as he stepped out the front door to take your case and all inner composure was lost. You were one big ball of excitement, most of it flurrying around in the pit of your stomach. Yet you kept cool on the outside, grinning at the handsome man in front of you despite your lingerie burning marks into your skin.

And handsome he was today, (as if he wasn’t every day), his dark hair parted in the centre of his forehead naturally, his eyes crinkling as he smiled and leaned in for a kiss. You tasted a hint of mango on his mouth, an obvious sheen to his plump lips, and you presumed he’d applied some chapstick before you’d arrived – the chapstick you’d bought him not too long ago after he’d complained of cracked lips to you on the phone one night.

“Hey,” he greeted softly, his arms around your waist, body pressed snuggly into yours.

“Hey yourself,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck, gazing into one another’s eyes before you lightly teased him. “Are we going to stay out here all night?”

Chuckling heartily, he reached behind you, lifting your case with ease. “Let’s go put this in my room.”

You’d never once stepped foot onto the upper level of his house before, so you were very observant on your way to his bedroom, eyes catching art pieces (you noticed numerous of Arin’s) and photos along the walls, light fixtures, as well as the odd plant here and there. You had to walk two flights of stairs to get to your destination, one average in length, the other shorter, veering off to the left of the corridor to reach a landing leading into his bedroom. You remembered what he’d said about changing and designing his bedroom himself, so you were very curious as to what it looked like inside. Yet still, the sight of it stunned you to brief silence.

His was the largest bedroom in the house, the master bedroom if you were being fancy, but in your opinion it was more like a mini home in itself. All it needed was a kitchen and you would be good to go. It smelt just like him – of his cologne and the recognisable vanilla scent his house seemed to waft of every time you visited. The walls were warm grey, décor similar with dashes of cream and gold. The bed matched the whole vibe of the room – insanely large, and you could already tell it was going to be the comfiest thing you’d ever slept on. Directly opposite, but a long way away, were a sofa and love seat sat around a TV hooked to the wall above a stunning fireplace. There were two sets of double windows, from the ceiling to the wooden floor, dark grey drapes open – not that it mattered. Seokjin’s house was out-of-the-way, no chance of being seen. All you were met with as you looked down, was a small patch of garden you hadn’t seen before, plain and simple, but very beautiful. Tranquil.

To the left of the room a door opened into another, perhaps a quarter of the size – his closet, and you followed him inside, still pretty much lost for words. He said there was no point putting your belongings away tonight, you could do it tomorrow, but he’d saved a drawer for you and there was an empty section of hanging space you could use too. There was also a dressing table you could put to good use, because he sure didn’t, and then he whisked you away into the bathroom, which was probably the most beautiful room in the house. Everything was warm marble in colour. A separate bath and shower (both gigantic) and double sinks.

“I got you a robe,” Seokjin pointed out, and you followed his gaze to behind the door, two fluffy white robes hooked to the wall.

Oh, boy. You could get used to this.

Seokjin ordered takeout for dinner – from an Indian restaurant Namjoon kept raving about apparently. With the amount he ordered you could have sworn he was feeding a whole party, not just the two of you. You were stuffed in no time, curling up on the sofa with a glass of red wine as Seokjin loaded the dishwasher. He still hadn’t cooked an actual meal for you, and when he joined you, of course you reminded him. This week he was preparing dinner for you one night, and that was final. You needed to see what Chef Kim had in him – even if he insisted his skills were long forgotten.

You cuddled as you watched a movie, which more often than not meant you’d start to become sleepy – just ask Soojung – but tonight was different. You were wide awake and practically thrumming with excitement. You were begging for the movie credits an hour before they were due, and when they finally popped up your heart started to beat harder in anticipation. It was nearing 11pm. Your lingerie was still burning welts into your skin…

Seokjin kissed the top of your head, your back pressed into his chest where you’d been snuggled into him, legs across the sofa, for the duration of the night. One of his arms was crossed around your front, the other free to drink his wine as he propped his feet up on the glass topped coffee table. You could really get used to this.

“What did you think?” He hummed, reaching forward to place his glass on a coaster. You grabbed his hand, not wanting him to leave you and he chuckled, quickly resuming position to now loop both arms around your shoulders, pressing you further into the warmth of his body.

“I enjoyed,” you replied with a small shrug. In all honesty it would’ve been a great movie if you hadn’t been so distracted.

You felt him lower his head, breath hot against your ear as he spoke. “I’m glad you didn’t fall asleep on me.” You giggled as he started to kiss the column of your neck, his barely there presses of his lips tickling you. Yet still you pushed into his hold, letting your head fall back. He took the opportunity to suck your earlobe between his lips, eliciting a sweet sigh from you. “I really can’t wait to spend this entire week with you.” He whispered.

You tried to keep your voice as uninvolved as possible – which was a lot harder when he now had your earlobe between his teeth. “Eh. I’m so-so over it.”

“Y/N!” He scolded playfully, groaning a laugh as he lifted his head away. “Stop. Now’s not the time for joking around.”

“I’m sorry,” you giggled, latching onto his hands.

“Face me,” he murmured almost suddenly. “Let me kiss you properly.”

His kisses were gentle and loving, his hands cupping your face as you leaned into him, hands placed across his hard chest. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt tucked into some black pants, he’d looked irresistible all night. He pulled away slowly, lips upturned almost drunkenly. “What’s that grin for?”

Seokjin’s gaze flicked from your lips to your eyes repeatedly as he replied, thumbs massaging circles into your cheeks. “I’m just very happy. Is that allowed?”

Giggling, you pressed your mouth to his, wrapping your palms around his neck to pull him in closer. He hummed loudly – indulgently, and let you lick into his mouth, his own hands slipping down to your neck and down your torso, gripping your middle. Your chest was flush to his and you welcomed the heat of his body. You were happy too. It had been a long time since you’d last felt this content, and tonight you’d realised just how lovely it was to be able to lounge with Seokjin and be in his company so casually, so naturally like this. You would become spoiled this week, but you couldn’t feel too worried right now.

Breaking away again, it seemed like he wanted to say something, but your mouth was a greedy thing, finding its way down his neck and across his throat as he leaned his head against the back of the sofa, his breathing shallow as he let you wonder. His fingers brushed up and down your back distractedly, until he seemed to remember what he wanted to tell you. “Hey,” he whispered, breath catching in his throat when you pinched your teeth into his Adam’s apple softly. “Hey, stop for a moment. There was something I wanted to say before…” He trailed off, unsure how to finish the very obvious direction of his sentence, and as much as you wanted to nosedive straight into that pool, you pulled back to look into his eyes, waiting patiently.

He straightened his back and you eased off him a little, finding his fond smile contagious. “I’ve enjoyed these past few weeks so much.” He began, sincerity in his tone . “I know I’m not old old by any means but dating you has made me feel like I’m young again. I mean, grinding in the middle of a bar is something I didn’t even do back in my college days.”

“I fail to believe that,” you laughed.

“Really,” he insisted, looking amused. “I was a nerd. A handsome one, but a nerd nonetheless.” Before you could roll your eyes he was continuing. “What I’m trying to say is that, I really like you, Y/N.” His fingers played with the ends of your hair lovingly. “You know that already. Shit, I’m crazy about you. Just hearing your voice makes my day better. No matter how short a time we spend together, even if it’s just on the phone to say goodnight, I feel happy – I feel relaxed.” He paused to take a breath before moving to cup your face with one hand. “No matter how stressed I am you make it better by just existing.”

“…Seokjin,” you murmured, a little lost for words at his declaration.

He chuckled warmly, tops of his cheeks tinged somewhat rosy. “Too cheesy?”

You shook your head adamantly, reaching for his face as well. “Not at all. I’m crazy about you too.” His face lit up instantly and you couldn’t help but kiss him. “I’m so happy we met,” you confessed against his mouth. “I don’t want this summer to be over.”

“It’s not over yet,” he laughed. “We still have time to make it even better.” You wanted that more than anything. Finding it difficult to keep away from your lips, he practically had to tear himself away. He was out of breath. “I know saying this out loud is silly given everything, but… Let’s make this official.”

Your heart started somersaulting. You felt like you were in high school again, over the moon because Kim Rowoon had asked you to prom. Only this was better than that – much, much better. Linking your arms around Seokjin’s neck you tilted your head to the side, a grin unable to keep off your face. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend, Mr. Kim?”

“What do you say?” He sounded hopeful and soft.

You hummed out loud, thinking hard. “Can I get back to you? 3 to five business days seems about right.” You immediately squealed as you finished your sentence, Seokjin’s hands finding their way around your butt to tug you forward. You gripped onto his shoulders with the surprise.

“Too bad because I’ve already been calling you my girlfriend at the office.”

You didn’t have a chance to reply, the hard press of his lips against yours knocking you senseless. You found yourself in his lap not long after, fingers dragging through his hair as you clung to him, mouths moving in gradual urgency until you began to feel out of breath. Your tongues seemed to grow more daring, intent, as your soft moans mingled with his quiet groans. You hadn’t quite found yourself in this position before, usually moulded to the soft leather but this time you had Seokjin pinned tight, a heat that was quickly becoming unbearable burning between your bodies, and his hands running up and down your back didn’t help.

Each brush of his fingertips had your skin prickling with warmth, dizzying your mind, and when you felt him brush against the curve of your left breast you leaned forward into his touch, desperate for more. Seokjin grunted, encouraged by your action as he cupped the soft flesh, his thumb grazing your nipple which hardened from the touch. Your kiss turned a lot more frenzied after that, Seokjin roaming your body with confidence, his unoccupied hand cupping your butt to rock you against his crotch.

He was hard. You’d felt it stiffening ever since you’d climbed into his lap, but now he was solid, flesh pressing (probably painfully) against his pants, and feeling emboldened you lifted your hips, hovering over him for your hand to slot in between your bodies, cupping his erection firmly. He stiffened under your grasp, his breath hitching and you took that moment to drag your tongue along his, teasing him as you slowly started to stroke him above his slacks. He felt thick and rigid between your fingers, pulsing erratically against your hold, and he broke away from your mouth, head falling back as a loud, drawn-out groan slipped from his throat. You gazed at him – eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed, mouth parted as he breathed shallowly – and took a mental picture. You wanted to remember this moment forever. He looked gorgeous, basking in pleasure and you wanted to pleasure him more. It was an urge so strong you practically dived on him, mouth slamming into his. He soon gained his bearings, kissing you just as wildly as his hands groped your body.

“Do you – mm, do you want – mm – to take this upstairs?” He asked against your lips, fingers currently digging into the soft flesh of your ass. The veins in his neck were visible, his desperation for you obvious, and you pulled away from the kiss to nod rapidly. If he didn’t get you upstairs soon you’d surely explode.

You let out a little squeak as you suddenly found yourself in the air, safely held up by Seokjin. You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him as he began to make the brisk walk to the hallway and towards the staircase. “Oh, my god,” you muttered, laughing as you realised he was about to carry you bridal style all the way up the stairs.

“What?” He laughed back, his eyes twinkling warmly. Your heart melted at the sight and you leaned in to kiss him, uncaring that you both may fall backwards and break your necks.

“I may have forgotten about the amount of stairs in this goddamn house,” he panted lightly once you’d made it past the first set.

“Put me down then,” you giggled.

“Never,” he sang out, pecking you on the mouth sweetly.

Once in his bedroom, he placed you down, closing the door behind you before caging you against it, kissing you like he hadn’t seen you for months. You keened into his touch, whole body hot and ready for him, but in the end you couldn’t keep up with his mouth. He’d never kissed you like this, he was a man possessed, you physically felt weak at the knees and you clung to him, moaning softly when his mouth fell to your neck.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he confessed against the wet skin, fresh waves of arousal washing through your body. His voice was an octave lower, gruff and nothing like you’d heard before. “I can’t contain myself knowing we’re going to be alone for a whole week.”

“What do you plan on doing to me?” You laughed weakly, but to be honest, the time for wisecracks were gone. You were hanging on by a thread, this close to begging him to tear your clothes off.

Cupping your neck he pulled away to look you in the face. His pupils were blown out, more black than the warm brown you were used to. The tops of his cheeks were tinged red, his own arousal very evident, and when he replied he sounded as sincere as ever. “Anything you want me to.”

Okay, if he carried on like this, he’d mess up your plan good and proper. He was rude. Very rude. And hot, and sexy, and yours. God, you really wanted him. Your body was screaming for him. You pressed a kiss to his mouth, and then another, and another, determined not to get yourself glued there no matter how much he tried to drag his tongue along the seam of your lips. “L-let me freshen up,” you managed to get out, voice shaky as you (with great difficultly) held him away at arm’s length.

At your words, he slowly made sense of them, his eyes refocussing before he gave you a short nod and politely stepped back. “Ok.”

Before you could be tempted by that mouth of his once more, you made a dash for his bathroom, closing the door behind you. Immediately you began to rush out of your clothes, not even bothering to fold them properly because you were in such a hurry. You’d had this planned all night, wanting him to be rendered speechless, and staring at your lingerie cladded self in the giant mirror he had hooked to the wall, you reminded yourself to take a breather. You were going to walk out there calmly, the epitome of composed as you sought out his reaction. With one last look at your reflection, you walked towards the door and opened it.

Seokjin was sat on the edge of the bed, legs sinfully spread (but oh so casually, which just made it hotter), but he wasn’t looking your way, his eyes darting around the room a little as if he was desperately trying to find some patience. Knowing he was riled and aroused made your head even more dizzy, and stopping by the doorframe, you called out to him.

He looked your way instantly, eyes bulging even quicker. Actually they practically popped out on storks as he took in the sight of you in the baby blue underwear. He seemed paralysed.

“Hey,” you smiled, all of a sudden feeling a little shy as you waited for him to say something.

It took another moment, but then he was swallowing hard, wetting his mouth as his lips parted. “Oh, shit.”

You smiled victoriously, those simple two words satisfying you fully.

He outstretched his hand, voice thick and raspy as he beckoned you forward. “Come here.”

You obeyed, closing the distance between you quickly and Seokjin wasted no time clasping his hands around your hips as you stood in front of him, between his legs. If felt so good to finally have his hands on your bare skin. His touch was warm, soothing, but most of all, electrifying. Goosebumps spread as he dragged his fingers up and down your sides, his eyes drowning at the sight of you.

“Do you like it? It’s not too much?” You asked, looking down at him. You glowed under his gaze.

He lifted his head up, arching an eyebrow. “Do I like it? Is that supposed to be a genuine question?” He sounded just as baffled as he looked and it made you giggle. His fingers started to play with the thin waistband of your panties before delicately outlining the lace flower petals on your ass. The sensation made you shiver, and a small smile grew on his face as he watched you. “You look gorgeous.” He leaned forward, beginning to place small, gentle kisses on your abdomen and your skin rippled, butterflies appearing. “You’re beautiful.” He murmured, hot puffs of air hitting you, heating you up even more.

You curled your hand in his hair, needing something to latch on to as you watched him mouth even more kisses along your flesh. The point of his tongue dipped into your navel scandalously, and as you gasped he looked up with his eyes and smirked, tongue now swirling invisible patterns along your stomach. The sight sent you a little gooey, legs feeling weak again as your heart thrummed inside your chest.

“However… I was looking forward to undressing you…” He teased.

You teased right back. “You still have the lingerie.”

He couldn’t handle that, growling quietly against your stomach, his hands rounding your ass to mould the flesh in his palms firmly. He’d soon tear the panties if he kept that up. Obviously the idea of stripping you naked sent him feral – something you’d remember well for this week. You yelped when you felt him sink his teeth into your hip bone, pulling him closer to your body by his hair, desperate for more. It was when you looked behind him, did you notice the pillar candles aflame on the two nightstands that sat either side of his bed. They weren’t burning before you’d entered the bathroom. You were sure of it.

“Seokjin, did you light candles?” You asked without realising, changing the atmosphere slightly, but you didn’t mind too much, not when the image of Seokjin rushing to burn candles for the ~ambience~ was too damn adorable.

He lifted from your skin, looking up at you. “Um, yeah.” He sounded a little awkward before he chuckled softly. “I thought against the slow R&B music.”

“Good choice,” you laughed, fingers rubbing small circles into the nape of his neck. That would’ve been hilarious.

“I’m totally out of my depth here…” He admitted, nudging you backwards a little to stand in front of you. He kept his hands on your waist, ducking down to be eye level with you. “I haven’t done this in a while.”

“Snap,” you grinned, rubbing your nose against his as you wrapped your arms around his neck to hold him close. You kissed him deeply, feeling happy and relaxed. There wasn’t a nerve in sight and despite his honest words you knew he was at ease too.

Your hands slipped over his shoulders and down his toned chest, stopping just before the waistband of his pants to tug at his t-shirt, untucking him. “You have to get naked too.” You whined, detaching your mouths. “I’m feeling sorely underdressed.”

He let out an airy chuckle, immediately reaching for the neck of his shirt to tug it over his head. Your hands greedily started to explore his torso, running your fingers along his faintly lined abs before trailing up his hard chest. He shivered as you brushed against his nipples, a tiny laugh slipping from his throat.

“What?” You laughed.

“’Tickles.” He mumbled, leaning in for another kiss. You wrapped your arms around him, loving the feeling of his bare chest against yours, but soon enough you got impatient again, hands reaching for the button of his pants. You popped it open and proceeded to unzip him, at least giving his poor erection some reprieve. It had been pressed up against your lower stomach for quite some time, still rigid but as patient as ever.

He took over, stepping back to push them past his hips, his lips still attached to yours. “Mm–Bed.” He hummed, taking you by the hips to switch places. You pulled away and sat down, watching him kick his pants off his feet and your eyes zoned in on the curve of his erection, hidden by his Armani underwear – black with a red waistband. His thighs were perfectly toned, his skim glowing in the soft lighting. He looked good enough to eat and your heart skipped a couple of beats as he walked forward.

You laid back against the mattress, instantly groaning at how soft it was. You practically sunk inside. “Oh, damn this is comfy.” Rolling onto your side as Seokjin climbed on the bed, you hid your smirk. “I could just go to sleep…”

“I don’t think so,” he told you, hovering over you. His hand smacked you ass causing you to squeal, and you flipped onto your back as he took the moment to cage you under his large body.

This time his mouth completely bypassed your lips to kiss your chest, pressing into the indents of your collarbones before slipping to the tops of your breasts. He kissed the fabric, wetting it as his tongue traced the delicate flower petals and you gripped onto his shoulders with a moan as he encased one nipple between his lips, sucking gently, soaking the lace a darker shade of blue. “You drive me crazy,” he quietly panted, his hands reaching behind your back, arched into the pleasure he was giving you. “May I?” He asked, fingers finding the clasp of your bra. You nodded hastily, moaning louder when he lifted his head to kiss your lips. His motions were firm, tight pleasure filled grunts leaving him as he freed you of your lingerie.

Immediately he pulled away, dark eyes soaking in your bare chest like it was the most stunning thing he’d ever seen. Your back arched further when his warm palms cupped your breasts, spreading a heat down your spine that settled between your legs. “You’re beautiful,” he awed, looking into your eyes, causing a sweet moan to fall from your lips.

He moulded the soft flesh gently, before brushing his thumbs over your hardened nipples. That had you moaning again, pleasure you hadn’t felt in a long time rocketing up your body. It felt amazing to be touched by him, and you were greedy for more. He was on the same page, his lips replacing his thumbs, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud that had you sighing out his name, your fingers threaded in his hair. He hummed against you, squeezing your breasts and pressing his body into yours – once – his erection pressing into your thighs, before he pulled away, kissing down your sternum before licking into your navel, his hands rubbing up and down the outside of your thighs.

His lips avoided your clothed heat, which was frustrating to say the least. You were so eager by now, unsure if you could take much more kissing before you exploded, but Seokjin was a man determined – determined on kissing every inch of your body it seemed. He made it down one thigh before moving onto the next and as he got towards your knee you couldn’t help but giggle – it was beginning to tickle, but he didn’t stop, lips pressing down your calf.

“Seokjinn,” you whined.

He chuckled as he made his way back up the other leg, bending you at the knee before gently getting you to spread out for him. “What?” He murmured. Although you were distracted now, realising how aroused you had become, your underwear clinging to you desperately. He was kissing the inside of your thigh now, fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties and he was so close to where you wanted him you were trembling. He nosed his way to the apex of your thigh, groaning as he smelt you and then he was hastily tugging the lace down your legs, the last of your covering. Now you were totally naked in front of him, and he looked like he wanted to eat you up.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, voice gruff. He sounded so sexy. His eyes were glued to your centre yet he didn’t touch. When you didn’t reply, they flickered to your face. “Y/N. Hm?”

You mind was a blur, you couldn’t think what to say, mainly because you wanted him to do anything and everything to you. You startled when he nosed the inside of your thigh, his hands sliding down your hips to grip the flesh underneath. “Taste you? Is that what you want?” He whispered, sending your insides somersaulting. He looked up as you nodded, and grinned. “You have to say it out loud, honey.”

The bastard. He was teasing you. Trying to get under your skin. Your forced yourself to speak. “Taste me.” He hummed in response, pressing his mouth to your hip bone. You raised your tone, more determined. “Seokjin. Taste me.”

He dived in. Placing gentle kisses up your slit, his lips ever so slightly brushing your clitoris. You moaned quietly, letting your eyes close as you laid back against the softest pillows you had ever felt. Your fists clutched the sheets, hips raising up when you felt the first wash of his tongue. Your breath caught, warmth turning you gooey. “Taste so good,” he mumbled into you – so quietly you wondered if you’d imagined it.

You enjoyed the sensation for a few moments, quietly moaning intermittently before you felt the urge to take a peek. Opening your eyes and looking down your body, you saw Seokjin watching you, his eyes hungry. You quickly looked away, the back of your hand coming up to cover your mouth as a groan left you, your legs falling wider apart. The scene had been erotic but in all honesty you were feeling a little shy. It had been a long time since you’d had sex, so the idea of someone watching you so intimately made you feel funny.

Seokjin was there to reassure you though. “Don’t look away, Y/N,” he murmured, pulling back to get your attention. “I want to see your face.” You looked again, watching him kneel low as he ran a hand up your thigh. His lips shone with your arousal. He looked beautiful.

You moaned lowly when you felt him rub a finger at your entrance, and he watched you intently as he pushed inside, feeling you squeeze around the intrusion. He slowly began to curve the digit, pressing against your inner walls. Committed to pleasuring you, he watched your every reaction and this time you didn’t look away.

“Does it feel good?” He asked, in awe as you writhed around on the bed, chasing the feeling.

You moaned as you replied yes, only to jerk upwards when his thumb began to rub tiny circles against your clit. “Seokjin!”

He liked that. Hearing you cry his name. He wanted to hear it more, dropping low to replace his thumb with his lips. He sucked the sensitive bud of nerves between them, flicking the tip of his tongue against it rapidly, earning him another cry, and he moaned gruffly against you, the vibrations shooting up your body. His free hand moved to your lower stomach, palm hot against your skin as he applied gentle pressure, holding you down.

Oh god, you were a mass of pleasure, mind addled, unable to think straight. Not when he was making you feel so good. He slipped a second finger inside of you, his eyes flicking up to yours and you made it your life’s mission not to look away, chest heaving up and down as you squeezed around his digits. Your orgasm was building, pressure below getting harder to control – harder to ignore. Seokjin guessed it, breaking eye contact to bury his face further into your heat. The image was almost crude, so were the noises, but the most beautiful kind of crude. A crude that had you desperate for more. You jerked into him, rolling into each snap of his wrist, the pads of his fingers grazing your g-spot.

“Want to make you cum,” he rasped, before sucking your clit back into his mouth and sucking determinedly. You groaned, head flinging back into the pillow, eyes clenched closed, a hand coming out to grip the roots of your hair as you rolled your hips into his face, giving into the pleasure well and truly. This orgasm was going to blow your brains out – and it did.

In the end you had you to clamp your legs around Seokjin’s head in a bid to get him to stop, pleasure still rolling through your body as you panted like crazy. He eased from your clit, tongue dragging down your folds instead, meeting his fingers that were almost locked inside of your pulsing walls. With a grunt, he removed himself, kissing your mound one last time before he stopped. With his hands on your thighs as he kneeled between them, he watched you adoringly.

“Oh, my god,” you panted weakly. Unsure what else you could say to describe what you’d just experienced. Why had he not been doing that from the get-go? From as soon as he’d reversed into your car?!

That was all he needed anyway, your simple vocalisation, because no sooner had the words exited your mouth, he dived on you, kissing your mouth, your cheeks, your eyes, your forehead – whatever he could reach. “You’re amazing,” he gushed, his lips and chin still glistening with your wetness. You could taste yourself on him. It was glorious. His hands roamed your body like it was all new to him. As if he hadn’t been it for the last forty minutes or so. “Fuck. I can’t stop touching you.”

Your stomach flipped around, the sound of him cursing sending you dizzy. You licked into his mouth, kissing him messily, your hands raking up and down his back, before they settled on his ass. You gave the meat a squeeze and he grunted, pushing his crotch into yours. He was painfully hard – and desperate. (You hadn’t missed the way he’d been rutting into the mattress while going down on you…)

“Seokjin,” you breathed, moving your head to the side to get your words out. His tongue carried on going, swirling across your cheek. You liked getting messy with him. You tugged at his underwear. “Get naked. Need you.”

“You don’t need a minute?” He asked, tongue now in your ear. He gyrated his hips into yours, grunting as he did so.

You shook your head. “Like hell I do.”

He laughed at that – breathlessly, but it was something. He moved, rushing out of the last bit of clothing he had on, and your eyes drunk up the sight. The missing piece. His dick was long and thick – smooth and warm once you got your hands on him. Hovering over you, you ran your fist up and down him steadily, just enjoying getting to touch him. He dropped to your side, pecking your lips before he pulled back. “I need to be inside you.”

You continued to touch him, running your fingers along the rigid flesh as he stretched behind him to pull a box from the nightstand drawer.

It caught your attention right away. You raised both eyebrows as you let go of his length. “A hundred condoms?”

He chuckled, sounding a little sheepish. “Too enthusiastic?”

“Do you want to kill me?” Death by (Dilf) dick wasn’t how you’d expected to go, if you were being honest.

“Not particularly,” he shrugged, pulling one of the packet. (Discarding the box to the floor.) He turned back to you with an impish grin. “That’s why I bought the bumper pack of condoms.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing at his chest, but he grabbed your hand and kissed you, distracting you successfully. “No, if I’m being truthful,” he continued, letting you steal another kiss. “They were better value for money. I’m partial to a bargain.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you scoffed.

“You should’ve seen me purchasing them, I have never been more embarrassed in my life.”

“Seokjin, you’re a near 40 year old man,” you judged openly, however on second thoughts – “But yeah, I’d be embarrassed buying a 100 condoms too.”

Seokjin shuddered, looking mortified. “Just the thought of the cashier knowing I was going to get lucky…”

You arched an eyebrow. “Get lucky?”

He looked comically caught out, eyes wide for a second before he shook his head. “Less talking now…” And then he was kissing you again…

Between rushed mouths and eager hands, he managed to tear the condom packet, pulling out the latex to slip it over his erection. Kneeling over you, you could see perfectly when he attempted to roll it the wrong way up. “Oh, shit. Ignore that,” he muttered, fixing it immediately.

You stifled a laugh. “Ignored.”

He gave himself a tug, making sure everything was secure and your mouth practically watered. “Just warning you now, this may be a three pumps and Bam! kinda thing,” he informed you as he laid over you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I am so turned on.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his middle. “I don’t mind. Just want you.”

“I want you more.” He rubbed his nose against yours.

Hitting his ass, you shot him a look. “It’s not a competition.”

“Isn’t it?” He asked, pretending to be confused.

“Quit stalling,” you whined. “Let’s have sex.”

“Let’s,” he agreed with a warm smile. You turned gooey instantly.

Pressing his knees to the mattress, he hovered over you, wrapping his hand around his dick to direct it between your legs. He rubbed the length up and down your slit, flesh heavy and hot, coating himself in your arousal. The sensation was good for you, but for him it seemed to blow his mind, eyes practically rolling back into his skull as he grunted. He stopped at your entrance, looking up at you as he slowly pushed the head inside.

You shifted under him, trying to stay patient. You wanted nothing more than to be stuffed full of him, but realistically you needed to take things slow. You held onto his shoulders, silently telling him to continue. He let out a strained groan as he slipped in deeper, your walls snug and hot around him, begging him for more. Inch by glorious inch, you kept on taking him, until you were filled up just right.

“Shit,” you uttered, looking up at the ceiling as you adjusted to the sensation.

“Was that a curse?” He asked, voice tight but greatly amused as he nosed your throat.

“Hardly.” Your voice was barely there, desperate for him to move.

“I’d still class it as swearing.” He was holding his breath, yet still felt the need to be a smarty-pants. You moved your hips practically a centimetre and he grunted. He didn’t want you to win though. “I want more. Maybe not tonight, but I will turn your mouth filthy by the end of the week…”

A moan tore from your throat uncontrollably, and you couldn’t look at his face because you knew you’d be met with a gloating smirk. You steeled yourself, nose in the air. “Game on.”

Seokjin laughed obnoxiously, but couldn’t wait any longer, slowly dragging out of you and then pushing back in. His breath hitched – so did yours, and he carried on, propping himself up with one hand as he gained a steady rhythm.

“You feel so fucking good,” he moaned, watching your face.

“You too.” You clung to him, feeling your face heat up and ended up dropping your gaze.

“Honey, don’t be shy,” he whined, reaching to cup your face, in the process pressing more of his body weight into you. You clutched him tighter, wanting him as close as ever. “I like watching you. Knowing I’m making you feel good.” His mouth on yours now, you sunk into the kiss, moaning softly as his thrusts got quicker. You met each one, rolling into him.

It wasn’t long before he was on your throat, kissing and nipping the skin, his hands exploring the rest of your body. Your ran your fingers through his hair, sighing sweety when his mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, slipping the hard flesh into his mouth to suck.

Face pressed against your chest, his movements became a little erratic, breathing heavy until he was panting. You moaned along, loving how he was making you feel. “You are honestly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He awed, voice raspy.

You let out a weak chuckle, running your fingers through the ends of his hair. “Of course you would say that with a face full of my boobs.”

He laughed too, kissing his way back up your chest, his hands pressing into the pillow as he leaned in for your mouth. You stared at one another for a little while, your moans mingling together, and it was the most intimate moment you’d ever shared with anyone.

“Good?” He asked. You were unsure if he was asking how you were or if you were enjoying yourself, but regardless, the answer was the same.

“Really good,” you smiled, running your hand down his chest.

His thrust were getting messier, less controlled, less strategic, so it was no surprise when he had a confession to tell you, kissing you once again. “I’m-I’m… close.”

He’d exceeded the predicted three pumps at least… “Hey, you can go a little harder,” you whispered against his mouth.

He grunted, slacking at your words but quickly got a hold of himself. Each snap of his hips got firmer and harsher, fucking – because there was no other way to describe it – you into the expensive bed. Your cries of pleasure came out stunted and unsteady, his own grunts louder now, gruffer as he chased his end.

“Seokjin –!” Your hands fell to his ass, holding him tight as he pounded into you. “Don’t stop,” you encouraged, which seemed to tip him over the edge – quickly.

“Fuck. Coming…”” His face fell into the crook of your neck, panting as he tried to keep moving, and then he froze, his body hot, partly sweaty, a long drawn-out groan sounding against your ear as he came.

You wrapped your arms around him, keeping him to you because in all honesty, you didn’t want to let him go. You could feel his heart beating against your chest rapidly, even after he’d partially caught his breath, and you knew yours was beating just as fast. You kissed his shoulder when he kissed yours, and slowly he lifted his head, turning to give you a drunken smile. He sighed contently. “That honestly beats any orgasm I’ve ever given myself lately.”

“I should hope so!” You burst out laughing, not quite expecting those to be his first words and he immediately joined you before hugging you tight.

You awoke naturally, light from outside peeking through the loosely closed drapes. Seokjin had his arm around you, his body curved into yours, and you could tell by his breathing he was still very much sound asleep. Proving your point, he grunted softly, rolling onto his back, his grip on you loosening. Carefully, you turned around to face him, taking in the sight of his sleeping form. His lips seemed to be pouted, eyebrows furrowed slightly – of course he had an adorable sleeping face. Of fricking course.

The bed sheets were pushed down, draped across his pelvis, one hip sticking out, while his broad chest and toned stomach laid bare. You found yourself smiling, insanely happy, wondering if you’d been a saint in a past lifetime – you had to have been. How else had you hit the jackpot? A kind-hearted, beautiful man with a banging body? You’d struck big.

Wanting to leave him sleep longer, you got up quietly, needing to pee, not worrying that you were butt naked, and as you left the bathroom, you moved to the closet (room) to fish for your phone in your purse. You’d left it there all evening yesterday, not wanting to be interrupted, and low and behold you had a bunch of notifications waiting for you on the screen. You got back into bed, getting comfy before you scrolled through them. Most were unimportant, news updates and social media notifications. You had a text from your mom reminding you to call your grandmother soon, one reminder regarding your phone bill going out tomorrow and then, from half an hour ago, a text message from your best friend. Why the hell was she up so early on a Sunday?!

Soojung (8:32am) Spill the details girl! How was Mr. Dilf 🥵👨🏻🍆💦

You snorted, pretty loudly, couldn’t help it, and when you realised you shoved a hand over your mouth, hoping you hadn’t woken your boyfriend (yes, it felt so good to finally use that word) up. You glanced over, but his eyes were still shut, a peaceful look on his face, so with a relieved inner sigh, you went back to your phone, wondering how you should reply. You had quite a lot to say, messaging her “the details” wouldn’t work. Maybe you could give her a summary? Until tomorrow when you could call her while Seokjin was at work. Maybe you could meet her for lunch. And who knew, you’d probably have more to tell her come then –

“Good morning, beautiful.”

You jumped when you heard Seokjin’s voice, his arm wrapping around you once more as he snuggled closer, encasing you in his body warmth.

“Seokjin,” you greeted, instantly shoving your phone onto the nightstand, face down. “Good morning.”

“Mmm.” He rubbed his face into the crook of your neck, burrowing his arm under the covers to touch your skin, hand cupping your waist. He was still sleepy, voice groggy. You settled into his hold, closing your eyes. With a kiss to the top of your shoulder, he spoke again. “What were you snorting at?”

Your eyes immediately flew open. He’d heard that? “Nothing,” you tried to reply casually.

He laughed, the throaty sound shooting up your body, leaving warmth in its wake. “Come on, something made you laugh.” He lifted his head, looking at you pointedly, plump lips pressed together, mouth curving up slightly. “You have to share, it’ll be rude not to.”

It took you a second to give in. “Fine.” It was probably time to let him know anyway. Soojung might try to kill you, but she couldn’t get you if you were gated in at Seokjin’s home… You reached for your phone and flashed the screen on, holding it out to him. “Soojung’s an idiot,” you sighed.

He delicately held the back of your hand, steadying the device so he could read the messages. A second later he was deeply amused, lips quirking before he let out a little laugh. “Has that been my nickname the entire time?”

“Maybe…” Amongst other things… They could wait till later though.

He hummed, trying to keep his expression casual, but you could tell by his eyes how amused (and smug) he was. “The emojis add a nice touch.”

You rolled your eyes, about to tell him to shut up, but immediately his lips were pressed against yours. He kissed you sweetly – which was all just an act. When he pulled away, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, tone arrogant. “So… how was Mr. Dilf?”

“Seokjin!” You exclaimed. This couldn’t be happening. He was just as bad as Soo and Taehyung.

Laughing loudly, he kissed you again, caging you under him smoothly. Your hands reached for his biceps, feeling them flex underneath you. “Was it good enough for a round two? Don’t expect me to keep my hands off you,” he told you, his fingers tickling your stomach as his face fell to your neck, kissing and biting the skin.

You began to laugh, squirming under him, but no matter how much you tried to free yourself it was impossible. “Stop,” you whined. “Seokjin, you’re tickling me!” He eased off with the tickling but his mouth only seemed to ramp up, his tongue licking up your throat. “You’re so sexy,” he groaned, meeting your gaze, and instantly laughed. “I love embarrassing you.”

You grumbled, realising you’d started to blush. “I’m not embarrassed,” you insisted. “I’m turned on.” Two could play at that game. Seokjin’s eyes widened comically, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“Yeah?” He murmured, getting a hold of himself, mouth ghosting over yours. You nodded, dragging your hands down his back to settle on his ass. You could feel his dick rousing between your thighs. It was so easy to get him. He was like putty in your hands.

“You’re okay though, mm?” He asked, tone softening as he stared into your eyes. “Did you enjoy last night?”

“I thought that was obvious,” you informed him, but his tenderness didn’t go ignored. God, you were really lucky. “I feel so happy,” you grinned, moving to clasp your arms around his neck. He grinned too, teeth on show, and then you couldn’t hold off any longer, kissing him eagerly.

“Fuck,” he breathed, after you’d just licked a strip up his jaw line. His hands clung to hips. “I want you in so many ways.”

You gave him a dangerous smirk. “We have all week, I’m sure you’ll be successful.”

Groaning, he seemed beside himself, skin hot and sweaty, his hair dishevelled, falling into his eyes, cheeks patched red. Finally, he settled on a decision. “Would you like to shower with me?”

“Okay,” you replied instantly, your excitement already tenfold, and suddenly you were in his arms, rising off the bed to be carried (naked) bridle style to the bathroom. “Seokjin!” You squealed, clinging onto him tightly, but all he did was laugh. You could get used to this.

His walk-in shower was grand, practically a separate wet room – two glass doors leading inside and a marbled tiled bench to the left with two panelled windows behind it. There were two showerheads – one large one attached to the ceiling and the other jutting out from the wall. Seokjin chose the centre one, knocking it on and enclosing you both in hot water. Warmth radiated from beneath your feet too – heated flooring, of course.

You spent the next ten minutes wrapped together kissing, hands exploring one another’s soapy bodies. It wasn’t long before there was a very obvious erection bobbing against your stomach. “Someone says hello again,” Seokjin hummed against your mouth, nipping your bottom lip before he broke away and chuckled. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve been the cause of many an awkward boner.”

You laughed, hooking one arm around his neck. “I noticed.” Your other hand wrapped around his dick, the wetness of his skin making it easy to glide your fist along the veiny shaft. You gazed up at him, admiring the way he’d pushed his wet hair above his forehead. He looked incredibly handsome – so handsome, you were finding it hard to control yourself. “Was this one of your ways?” You murmured.

“Maybe,” he said with a smile, huffing out a little when your thumb grazed the sensitive slit across the head of his member.

“I have a better idea…” You whispered, pushing a little at his chest. “Sit.”

He obeyed, sitting on the bench while watching you wordlessly (but curiously), his eyes flashing when you moved to kneel in front of him. “Fuck,” he muttered, dick twitching in anticipation. You took him in your fist again, feeling oddly confident as you flicked out your tongue. It had been a long time since you’d sucked dick but you were more than ready.

You washed your tongue across the head, hearing him grunt above you, and encouraged, you took him in your mouth, sucking firmly around the tip. His hands instantly reached for your head, fingers carding through your hair. He groaned lowly, thighs tense, but when you started to jerk your fist along his shaft, he relaxed into the pleasure, murmuring your name.

“Okay, this idea seems better than mine,” he admitted, voice tight.

You hummed in agreement, vibrations travelling up his length which made him groan, fingers in your hair tightening. Taking him deeper, you washed and swirled your tongue as best you could around the thick flesh. Seokjin’s length was impressive, but you had all week to grow accustomed to it, for now, you had your hand, continuing to stimulate him with both that and your mouth. The water from the shower hit your back and calves, the heat beneath you making sure you didn’t grow cold.

“Should we go back to the bedroom?” Seokjin asked, sounding concerned, despite how good you were making him feel. A hand ran down your back soothingly. “Your knees will start aching.”

Pulling off him, a string of saliva that attached you breaking apart, you shook your head and ran your palm all the way up his length, twisting against the tip. He bucked into your hold. “It’ll be worth it.”

Seokjin let out a low growl, eyes dark. “Don’t say things like that.”

You smirked, spreading your saliva up and down him slowly before speeding up, concentrating on the head. Seokjin’s mouth was open, his breathing shallow, chest littered with red blotches, making it painfully obvious how aroused he was. You wanted to run your hands all over the muscular torso, mouth too – but that could wait. First of all, you wanted to make him cum.

“You have a pretty big dick. Has anyone ever told you that?” You purred, eyes flicking down to his crotch.

Seokjin grinned confidently, the hand in his hair reaching to cup your cheek. “You seemed to handle it very well last night.”

Oh. Heat exploded through your body, settling between your legs, and you took him back in your mouth, a hiss leaving his throat. He tapped your chin, gaining your attention. “Y/N, look at me,” he commanded softly.

And you did. You watched every bit of pleasure that flitted across his face as you continued to suck his dick, never breaking eye contact, even when he did; eyelids closed, face scrunched up as he came down your throat a few minutes later…

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjin smut #bts smut #seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #bangtansorciere #floralseokjin:writings #fic:mls

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suituuup · 3 years

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pieces - chapter eight

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca didn’t expect to see her again dancing in a strip club, out of all places.

rated: E (drug use and emotional abuse in early chapters)

ao3 link

Chapter seven was published yesterday, in case you missed it! I was too lazy to make a tumblr post.

The term rollercoaster didn’t seem strong enough to describe the last six weeks of Chloe’s life.

Seeing Beca again. Leaving Marco. Getting clean. Finding out she was pregnant.

She felt like she needed to stop and take a minute to remind herself to breathe, but the weight pressing on her chest prevented her from sucking enough oxygen into her lungs.

“You’re…” Beca blinked twice in slow succession. “...pregnant. With a baby.” She grimaced in the next beat, releasing a breath. “Sorry, I-- I wasn’t expecting that.”

Chloe couldn't blame her for being shocked. She swallowed thickly and cleared the lump from her throat. “I made an appointment for an abortion. Tomorrow.”

Tears sprang up into her eyes before she could stop them, and she lifted a hand to her mouth to muffle the sob itching to come out.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked out, shaking her head.

“Chlo…” Beca murmured, setting a hand over Chloe’s back and the other one on Chloe’s. “You don’t need to apologize. What you’re going through is incredibly hard, and… if an abortion is what you feel is the best option, then that’s what you should do.”

Chloe had always wanted to have kids one day, but this was the worst possible timing. She didn’t have a place to raise that baby, or a job, not to mention that she was a recovering addict.

She nodded along to Beca’s words, as though attempting to convince herself further.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Beca asked. “To the appointment?”

Chloe hesitated. “I don’t want you to miss work because of me.”

“You’re more important than work,” Beca argued softly as her thumb stroked Chloe’s knuckles back and forth. “And I don’t think you should be doing this on your own, you know? But I don’t want to overstep either, so it’s completely up to you.”

Chloe sniffled, reaching up to wipe her tears away. “I… I think I’d like it if you could be there.”

“Done,” Beca instantly said, nodding firmly. She cleared her throat following a few beats of silence. “So um, is there anything you should do for your recovery? Now that you’re out of rehab, I mean.”

“The therapist there recommended one in the city, I need to call and book an appointment. I’m going to my first NA meeting in two days. Otherwise, I’ve been told having a routine could really help? Like go for a morning walk, do some yoga, cook, clean… that sort of stuff. But all I want to do right now is crash for a few hours.”

Beca nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Let me know if I can do anything to make things easier on you, okay?”

Chloe managed a small smile despite how heavy her heart felt. “I’m already so grateful for what you’re doing for me, Bec.”

“It’s what friends do. Help each other out.”

Chloe ended up sleeping for four hours straight. She had never felt so exhausted in her life, and she guessed it was a mix of the physical and emotional toll of pregnancy and rehab finally hitting her. She didn’t eat much for dinner and mostly pushed her food around in her plate, knowing most of it would come back up as it had for the last few days.

She and Beca got to the clinic ten minutes before Chloe’s appointment that next morning, and after filling out the paperwork, they were led into an exam room, where Chloe was asked to change into a paper gown. She sat down on the edge of the bed once she was changed, her eyes sweeping over the many baby pictures lining the wall.

Her attention shifted to the door when it opened, a middle-aged woman stepping inside.

“Hello, Chloe,” she greeted with a soft, reassuring smile. “I’m Dr. Harris.”

“Hi,” Chloe returned quietly. “This is my friend Beca.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Dr. Harris said as she approached. “I was told you’re here to terminate your pregnancy?”

“I-- yes.”

“Okay. As one of the nurses probably told you over the phone, I need to check how far along you are first so we can figure out if a procedure is required,” she explained, setting her chart down and snapping on a pair of gloves. “When was your last period?”

“I-- I’m not sure.”

She used to take the pill. But when you’re fortunate if you remember to eat one meal a day, it’s also easy to forget to renew your birth control prescription. That was just another detail among the many in her life that seemingly had ceased to have consequences or meaning the further she slipped down that rabbit hole.

“Okay, that’s alright. Can you lie down please, and put your feet in the stirrups? I need to do a vaginal ultrasound so we can see better.”

Chloe nodded, scooting back and lifting her feet. She reached for Beca’s hand as nerves sprouted in her belly, immensely grateful for her presence.

“This might not be the most comfortable feeling, but I’ll try to be as gentle as possible,” Dr. Harris said as she placed a condom over the wand before slowly inserting it. She tapped a few keys on the ultrasound machine, gently moving the wand around until a clear image popped up on the screen. It was another minute before she spoke again. “Okay… given the size of the embryo, you’re about seven weeks along, Chloe.”

Chloe puffed out a breath as a kaleidoscope of emotions swept through her. This was her baby, up there on the screen, and the sight of it suddenly made her question everything and ask something that she would regret shortly after. “Can I-- can I listen to the heartbeat?”

The doctor glanced at her. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Chloe confirmed. “I’m sure.”

Nodding, Dr. Harris pushed another key, and the most beautiful sound filled the room a second later. A steady, strong woosh woosh. Tears sprang to Chloe’s eyes, and she felt a squeeze to her hand as she attempted not to let them fall. Her own heart constricted in her chest, so hard it was nearly painful.

“Turn if off, please,” she croaked out, shaking her head as her lids slammed shut, those tears sliding down her cheeks and curling around her chin.

The doctor shut off the machine and withdrew the wand a few seconds later. “You can put your legs down, Chloe.”

Chloe nodded and straightened, taking the tissue Beca offered her and blowing her nose with it.

Dr. Harris watched on, her eyes soft. “You still have some time before making a decision.”

“Did it look healthy?” She found herself asking, then figured she should explain. “I just got out of rehab. I did cocaine and drank a fair amount of alcohol on a daily basis up until four weeks ago. And I was given um...” Chloe scratched her forehead as she raked her brain for the medication name. “Gabapentin for the first two weeks of rehab to help with withdrawal.”

Dr. Harris’ features remained professional as she nodded slowly. “The heartbeat is strong, and I didn’t catch anything abnormal. The risk of miscarriage is more present than for other pregnancies as the drugs crossed through the placenta when you were still using, and that up to twelve weeks. Problems could occur during and after the pregnancy. But the baby could also be perfectly healthy, since you stopped in the early stages of pregnancy. It’s hard to tell.”

Chloe’s mind swam with all these possible scenarios, and she didn’t know whether to listen to her brain or her gut feeling. “How-- how much time do I have to decide?”

Dr. Harris slipped her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. “Abortion is legal up to 25 weeks in New York state. Up to ten weeks, you can take a pill, past that a surgical procedure is needed.”

Chloe sniffled, swiping the back of her hand under her runny nose. “Okay. Thank you.”

Dr. Harris cast them both a tight-lipped smile. “Of course. I’ll leave informational pamphlets at the desk for you to read, as well as my phone number should you have any questions.”

“Thanks,” Beca said as the doctor walked out, then focused back on Chloe, reaching out to brush her hair back behind her ear. “I’ll give you a few minutes to get dressed? I can go get those pamphlets in the meantime.”

Chloe nodded, her insides caving in as soon as the door clicked shut behind Beca. She gripped the edges of the exam cot hard, her nails digging into the leather and her breathing turning chopped as a mix of panic and sadness unleashed within her.

It all seemed unfair, but she knew her own recklessness was the root of the situation she found herself in.

She eventually managed to calm herself down enough to get dressed, meeting Beca by the desk ten minutes later. The walk home was silent, and Chloe was grateful Beca didn’t push her to talk. She didn’t even know how to process her own thoughts, let alone speaking them aloud.

A few days passed. Chloe slept a lot, and tried to keep herself busy the rest of the time. One hour each morning consisted of hugging the toilet while she puked her guts out, and the rest of her day was spent craving that warm embrace of the rush cocaine once brought her.

The temptation was there. She knew there was a store on the corner of Beca’s street that sold booze, and she knew there was enough change in the bowl by the front door to afford at least a couple beers.

Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to. Not after seeing that tiny blob on that screen and listening to its heartbeat, because the biggest part of her wanted this. She knew it deep down, but she couldn’t silence those same voices that had been making her life hell for the past four years, telling her that she was bound to fail at this like she did with everything else.

Chloe woke up that Saturday morning to a churning stomach. Scrambling out of bed, she stumbled to the bathroom across the hall and made it just in time to empty the contents of her stomach into the ceramic bowl.

She slumped back against the wall afterwards, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she reached out to flush the toilet with the other. Chloe glanced up when Beca appeared around the corner, a sympathetic smile curving her lips as she stepped closer and handed Chloe a steaming mug.

“Ginger tea. I read it helps with morning sickness.”

Chloe accepted it with a quiet thank you. She cradled the mug between her palms, her head tilting back against the tile behind her as she exhaled. “You can sit, if you want.”

Beca nodded and lowered herself next to her in the tight space, their thighs and shoulders touching. “Do you… want to talk?”

Chloe sucked in a sharp breath. “I feel… lost,” she croaked out, her head rolling to the side to look at Beca. “Before the appointment, I was so sure terminating the pregnancy was the wise option, but then I saw it on that screen and heard its heartbeat and…”

“You realized the wise decision is maybe not what you want?” Beca supplied when Chloe trailed off.

“I’ve always wanted to be a mom,” Chloe whispered before she broke eye-contact, focusing on the mug she held in her hands as she blinked away the tears filling her eyes. “But it’s crazy to even consider it, right? I don’t have a job, I don’t have my own place, and I’m still battling with my own mind because I crave something. All day, every day since my last hit.”

“But you didn’t cave,” Beca pointed out softly. “I know it’s only been four days since you got out of rehab, but you didn’t cave, and that’s already an accomplishment of its own.”

“I just… I don’t want to harm this baby more than I’ve possibly already done,” Chloe admitted quietly.

Beca nodded, and reached out to take one of Chloe’s hands, tugging it into her lap gently. “If keeping this baby is what you want to do, those things you’re worried about have solutions. You may not have a place of your own, but I’m not kicking you out. Even with a baby. This is home for you as long as you want or need it. A job shouldn’t be too difficult to find. Maybe it won’t be the greatest one on earth to start with, but it will be something to get your head back in the game,” she paused, tilting her head to the side and seeking Chloe’s gaze. “And what you just said? About not caving because of the baby? I can’t think of a better proof of your ability to be a great mom. You’re already putting that baby before your own needs, and I can’t even fathom how great and out of control those can become, and I think that’s admirable. And for what it’s worth, I think you should trust what your gut tells you. I listened to my brain instead of my heart once, and ended up making one of the biggest mistakes of my life.”

Chloe let Beca’s words resonate within her, basking in the temporary peace they brought her. There was no doubt about where her gut feeling lay on this.

“I feel like I’m turning your life upside down,” she whispered after a while, sniffling. “You’ve done so much for me already, I don’t want to keep abusing from your generosity, or jeopardize your relationship with Sarah.”

“You’re not abusing anything, Chlo. I promise,” Beca murmured with a squeeze to her hand. A stretch of silence settled between them, until Beca spoke again. “You still have time to think about it. Just know that whatever you decide to do, I’ll support it.”

Over the next week, Chloe found herself picturing what it would be like, caring and nurturing for that baby and raising them. For the first time in five years, cocaine wasn’t the first thing she thought about when she woke up, or the last thing on her mind before going to sleep.

For the first time in five years, it felt like she had purpose, in trying her best to be the mom her child deserved. That meant staying clean, leaving those demons behind where they belonged, and getting her life back together one day at a time, for that innocent being that came to light in the darkest time of her life.

She woke up earlier than usual that morning, and headed to the bathroom to pee, pausing as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. A soft gasp escaped as she lifted her shirt and ran her palm over the barely perceptible swell in her lower belly. It wasn’t there yesterday, and Chloe felt tears pool in her eyes.

Happy ones.

“Hey there, little one,” she croaked out, her heart swelling against her ribcage as she rubbed slow circles over her skin. “We’ll be okay, won’t we?”

She puffed out a long breath, a watery smile breaking through.

One day at a time.

#bechloe #bechloe fanfic #chloe beale #beca mitchell

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obeymeluv · 4 years

Text

The Bros and School Headcanons

I have other stuff in mind but this is something short I can put out for now.

It’s my headcanon on the types of school/college people the bros are. I guess you can consider it college AU?

Lucifer

The Type-A asshole everyone probably hates

Doesn’t originally start out that way, doesn’t mean for people to hate him. Soon LIVES for it. Seriously, it’s like his coffee.

Prideful AF. MUST be top of the class!

His motto: “Do it right, do it once.”

Runs on an insane amount of coffee and just as insane (read: little) amount of sleep

The type to remind the teacher about assignments that were due in class if it seems like they’re going to forget about it

Asks about extra credit on day one

If people ask repeat questions that were LITERALLY just answered, he gets pissy and silently suffers

Ends up a little sad and burnt out, wondering if the grade was worth skipping out on other opportunities

Says he’s not going to do it next semester, but gets addicted to that grade high

The “friends” he makes in class are usually fellow rivals and they have a hot and cold relationship that somehow works really well

When he drops the grade-chaser stuff, he’s actually really nice to be around. He has really deep, interesting conversations that are between philosophical and educational (you just have to pull his head out of his ass first)

Mammon

Some people wonder how he got into the class, some people wonder how he’s passing it

Mammon is the dude who looks like he doesn’t know about the subject but is an absolute FOUNTAIN of knowledge

Always has sunglasses on and has some kind of drink within arm’s reach. Usually a very big coffee with lots of espresso

Constant bedhead (even if he says he fixed his hair)

Tried sitting in the front row the first week, kept getting sleepy. Now sits in the back row towards the doors.

He’s either early or late. Never on time.

The one that brings a notebook and a pen to class. Nothing extra.

Usually falls asleep or cat naps. Says he learns through osmosis

This asshole is really good at auditory learning and gets by recording the lectures

Blows through exams like they’re nothing. He’s a good BS’er and gets C’s, minimum. Usually low B’s.

This guy laughs at the Type-A stresser’s and enjoys his minimum studying

Can be suckered into group studying fairly easily but most people won’t study with him because he turns study sessions into anything BUT studying

Knows people who know people. Could probably get his hands on old tests and stuff. If he can, it’ll cost you. A lot.

Levi

This poor baby has testing anxiety hella bad when it comes to subjects he’s not super interested in or that he’s already struggling in

If he likes the subject and feels confident in it, there’s no testing anxiety.

Also brings a drink to class. It’s an energy drink.

Always comes to class early and is usually in a pair of wireless headphones, browsing on his phone

A great visual learner.

His notes are written sloppily and kind of sporadically but they’re decently organized with notes in the margin and things like that

Doesn’t like asking questions out loud. Will either email the teacher, ask after class, or make a friend that isn’t afraid to ask them for him.

If he’s having a good day, he’ll try to make jokes that only make a few people laugh. It’s usually bad timing and he’s a little sad.

MUCH BETTER AT DRAGGING PEOPLE! It’s not something he thinks about. It just slips out! Before his face can overheat, he realizes people are laughing and he kind of basks in it for a while.

Has coordinated stationary; is probably animes he’s into or colors he likes

If he has a laptop, it’s absolutely smothered in stickers

The BEST guy to have a study session with. Something about being in a library or quiet area ramps up his focus and he’s like a second-hand teacher.

Very different from his in-class persona, but is often spot on with ‘If I were the teacher, I’d put this on the exam.’

Want to be friends? Comment on his merch. He’ll start a conversation if he sees a shirt/pin/bag/pencil or anything he likes. It helps if you offer Starbucks or snacks in exchange for being tutored

Satan

Takes pride in his grades but doesn’t go out of his way to make people hate him

Will casually drop his grades when asked, but won’t own up to being the top grade. Very vague (”I did okay. Just like I expected.”)

He more or less enjoys the satisfaction of seeing a good grade come back to him after all that studying

Prone to over-thinking

Probably the first one done, but he’ll do 2 or 3 look overs to check everything before turning it in

Low-key exhausts his professors with written assignments because he gives them a fucking book. It’s all technical and correct but, really, it was only supposed to be three pages!

The one that will yell at the obnoxious people interrupting lecture. Will throw things at them if they’re in reach.

Super protective of his books and class materials. Has a hoarding/scooping reflex when messy people spread out their stuff or unwrap food. The books are not to be desecrated!

If an obnoxious eater/drinker is beside him, he thinks about strangling them to the point where it distracts him from lecture

Usually reads ahead and works ahead

If he gets points off of something, he’ll want an explanation. If he feels the points were taken away unnecessarily, there will be words

If he gets too overstimulated with noises or just hits a point of being fed up, he’ll leave lecture

Rarely brings food or drink to class but can be found at the Starbucks on campus before class. Maybe after. Some days it’s both.

Best notes around. Very technical and perfectly organized. Not colorful or anything, but definitely the envy of people.

Sells his notes/study guides each semester for money

Asmo

That guy who can slide into any friend group

Socially sharp. Can tell who the most prepared are and has an instinct for who the strongest class partners will be

Makes friends with the TA’s before the professors.

Totally convinces that TA to give him hints about the upcoming exams

People either love him or hate him. Most people love him, some people hate them because they can’t be him.

Almost always has a drink and it’s rarely the same. Usually a healthy smoothie or one of the cute juice drinks from Starbucks.

The type to bring in outside food and pick at it while he listens to lecture. Tries to listen, anyways.

Really easily distracted. Gets bored with monotonous voices and HATES teachers who just read off of a powerpoint.

His notes are very colorful and aesthetic but may not be the most informative

Does his best to stay on top of assignments but usually has 2 or 3 big screw ups a semester

Somehow always gets his ass saved. Boy has good karma in stock

This is the guy that things ALWAYS seem to work out for, and they fall in his lap

Proposes cute/semi-extravagant study dates. They are rare and exclusive. Extended to a few choice people (no, it’s not to sucker anyone into giving him class notes.)

Aim’s for C’s because anything more is just a bonus. D’s and F’s are unacceptable.

Will drag a bad partner in a heartbeat. If they didn’t help in the group project, their name isn’t going on it.

Beel

Also one of the types that doesn’t look like he belongs, but he does

Is a fountain of random knowledge

Very strong memory, but not perfect. The type that needs a little push before the absolute WALL of information comes out.

Really strong test taker

Brings tons of snacks to class

Once brought a whole-ass meal to class. He ate it one-handed and took notes with the other.

The guy that somehow gets roped into favors by other people. It’s usually quick stuff and he’s good about setting boundaries to make time for himself and his studies

Want him to study with you? Mention about splitting a pizza or something.

Your hype man. Good guy to reassure you before tests if you get test anxiety

Sick and skip class? He’ll check in on you AND send copies of his notes

Doesn’t always get assignments in on time. Only late once or twice a semester. Either eats the point difference or convinces the teacher to give him an extension.

Will take you out for post-test fun errands

Belphie

Does he exist? You won’t find out until it’s time to take an exam.

Belphie does a lot of research before he signs up for a class. Would like to go 100% online but knows that isn’t realistic, so he combs teacher reviews to get nice, easygoing professors

Has a photographic memory, so all he really needs are the powerpoints and to check out reference copies of the textbooks from the libraries

Tries to take the same classes as his brothers so he can swipe the textbook for a bit

If his only option is a morning class, he DEFINITELY picks the same one as one of his bros to make sure he gets up and goes

More of a night owl

The one that’s addicted to caffeine, stays up all night, and somehow gets 7 assignments done. Has periods of intense focus then it’s back to not knowing what day it is. He just wants sleep.

Usually seen with Beel or Satan. Tends to show up at events with free food.

Loves finals week when they bring in dogs and pets.

Has wireless earbuds and is always listening to a podcast, Tedtalk, or something soothing

Catnaps through class. Even if he’s woken up from a dead sleep, he can answer whatever snarky question someone asked

Takes advantage of the meditation classes and alternative therapy walk-ins promoted by the Mental Health Clinic. He really likes guided meditation with singing bowls.

#Obey me!#Obey me! x Reader #Lucifer x Reader #Mammon x Reader #Leviathan x Reader #Satan x Reader #Beelzebub x Reader #Belphegor x Reader

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missmentelle · 3 years

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Am I a bad friend for being overwhelmed by my friend's severe depression/abandonment issues and wanting a break sometimes? I'm the only one they can lean on and I do my best to help them but sometimes I just don't know what to do because nothing seems to help them and I can't always be available without neglecting my own mental health/my work. I spend at least 90% of my free time and some of my time at work when I'm able to text assuring them every day that they're not worthless and giving them reasons why I like them/reasons why they shouldn't commit s****** after they rant to me and ask me "Why?" about those things. They refuse to seek out therapy (Even though their insurance fully covers it) and acknowledge that they can be toxic but refuse to change and instead always just say stuff like "I'm sorry, I know I'm a piece of shit, I should just die". Any advice? :/

Thanks in advance, if you get to this question!

You definitely aren’t a bad friend for being overwhelmed by this. I think anybody would be in your situation.

It really sucks that your friend is going through this right now, but one person cannot be a 24/7 support for a person in crisis. It’s just not doable. Trying to give someone constant support without a break will burn anyone out, especially if that person is not willing to take steps to help themselves. It’s great that you want to be there for your friend, but they also need to meet you halfway - they need to take responsibility for their own mental health, be willing to consider other resources, and understand that it’s not personal when friends sometimes need a break or can’t be available 24/7. That can be very difficult for people with severe mental illness, but they need to find a way to manage it; making threats of suicide or saying dark things like “I’m a huge piece of shit and I should just die” whenever one of their supports needs a break is hugely manipulative, and it’s not okay.

I am a mental health professional with a lot of training to help people in crisis, and I still can’t be a 24/7 support for someone in crisis without quickly burning out. When I work with people who have very high mental health needs, I don’t do it alone - I work with a large team, so that we can make sure this person has support they need at various hours of the day, and so that no one person feelings like they are alone in supporting this person. We never break boundaries; if it’s my day off or if I’m meeting with another client and the person in crisis desperately wants to speak with me, they have to make do with one of their other supports or wait until I am available again. Having just one support is not an option for these clients - they have to work with us to establish a network of supports so that they have different people to turn to if their preferred support is not available. Again, I understand that it might be hard for your friend to accept other supports, but they need to do it - leaning this hard on just you is not good for either of you. It’s setting you up for some serious burnout, and it’s setting them up to not have any supports at all once that happens.

Every relationship needs boundaries. Period. A boundary is not a sign that you don’t care about the other person - it’s a sign that you care about yourself. Helping someone in crisis is great, but if the person has so many constant, ongoing crises that helping them prevents you from functioning properly in your own life, some boundaries need to be be put in place. Spending 90% of your free time talking the same person out of suicide over and over again is unsustainable. People in a severe mental health crises can sometimes be like drowning people; if you try to help them all by yourself, they will drag you under the water with them, which helps no one and endangers both of you. Your own mental health needs to be your top priority here - although it might feel cruel at first to put boundaries in place, it’s necessary if the relationship is going to survive in the long run, and it can sometimes give the other person the push they need to access resources.

When you’re in a situation where you’re burnt out from helping someone in crisis and you desperately need to set some boundaries, here’s what I recommend:

Have an open conversation about the situation. This won’t be an easy conversation, but sometimes it just has to be done. Tell your friend that you want to support them and you want to be there for them, but that you’re feeling a bit overwhelmed. Tell them that you want them to get the best support possible, but that you aren’t a mental health professional and that they deserve support from an expert who is trained to provide it. Remind them that you need space sometimes and that it’s not a personal attack or a rejection of them, it’s just something you need for yourself. Do your best to lay out your feelings and express your desire to work together with them to move forward in a healthier, more productive way.

Commit to having “off-times”. There need to be certain hours every day where you take a break and just don’t reply to texts or answer your phone. Expecting you to be available at all times is just not reasonable. Don’t answer your texts during work hours, during meals, during your sleeping hours (even if you aren’t asleep) and for at least an hour before you want to go to bed. Give yourself time to relax, wind down and take some time for yourself. Your friend might be upset about this at first, but it’s important to be strict with this boundary - you need time to yourself. Period.

Carve out time for your hobbies, friends and rest. Make sure you are spending time each week that is just for you - watch a favourite show, read a book, Skype call with other friends, play some video games, take a nap. Do whatever makes you happy. And while you’re taking time for yourself, enforce your boundaries - you can’t enjoy watching a movie if you are texting someone in crisis all the way through it and not actually watching the show. Remember that you don’t need to justify time you take for yourself - it’s not that the movie is “more important” than your friend, it’s that your own mental health is your first priority.

Seek out social support for yourself. It’s very common for people to let other friendships and relationships drop when they are spending most of their time supporting someone in crisis. Don’t. Make sure you are spending time on other relationships that are more of a mutual source of support for you. Becoming isolated for the sake of one friend is not healthy - take steps to protect and nurture your other relationships.

Get their other friends and family on board, if possible. Supporting a person in crisis has to be a team effort, especially if that person is making threats of suicide. One person cannot keep them safe all on their own. If you know that this person has other friends or family in their life that could be a source of support, it might be time to reach out to them and let them know how serious your friend’s situation has become. Multiple people coordinating to support one person is always better than one person going it alone.

Encourage them to access other supports. I know that your friend does not want to seek outside supports, but there comes a time when that stops being a reasonable option for someone who has outside supports available. From the sounds of it, your friend passed that point a long time ago. Again, remind your friend that you are not a professional and that you are worried you can’t give them the help they need. Offer to assist them in locating appropriate supports. If they get upset when they are unable to reach you right away, remind them of professional or alternative supports available, and explain that they need to contact those resources when they cannot reach you. Keep directing them to other supports - therapists, hotlines, 911, etc - that can provide more comprehensive support than you can, and stick to your boundaries.

Don’t engage with their manipulative behaviour. When someone constantly and consistently threatens suicide or says things like “I get it, I’m the worst, I’m a piece of shit, I deserve nothing and I should just die” whenever they are called out for their toxic behaviour, that’s a form of manipulation. As hard as it might be, you can’t give in to it - when they know this kind of manipulation works, they’ll keep using it, and they won’t change their toxic behaviour or take steps to address their mental health. When your friend is being manipulative, set firm boundaries. Tell them that they don’t seem to be in a good headspace for this conversation and that you’ll talk to them when they seem more able to discuss their harmful behaviour. If they make direct threats of suicide, tell them you are concerned for their safety and that you think it would be best for them to call 911. Do not engage further, just keep directing them to outside supports.

Setting boundaries with someone who has severe mental health struggles is hard. It’s so hard. And honestly... it won’t always go well. Sometimes people are very understanding, and talking to them about boundaries makes them realize that it’s time to start taking their mental health more seriously... but I think it’s more common for people to view boundaries as a personal attack, at least in the beginning. I get my fair share of hate mail from people who inform me that I must “hate the mentally ill” because I preach setting boundaries. This is a very emotional topic for a lot of people, and unfortunately, conversations about it will not always go well. When someone is used to having unlimited access to you and they are used to being able to shut down any conversations about how their actions might be toxic, suddenly having you put boundaries in place can feel like a slap in the face. That doesn’t mean that you should give in or relax your boundaries, though - what you are asking for is not unreasonable. No relationship should be causing you this much stress or possibly threatening your livelihood (especially in a global pandemic with an unemployment crisis), and you are not a bad person for needing a break and room to breathe. Your friend might come around and accept your boundaries after a while, or they might not. Either way, you need to protect your own mental health - it’s up to them to decide whether they are willing to continue with a relationship where they are no longer allowed to run you into the ground. Best of luck to you! MM

#Anonymous

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welcometophu · 3 years

Text

The Meaning of Home, Chapter 2

The Meaning of Home Chapter 2

Tags for all Welcome to PHU novels will be available at the PHU tag list on Pillowfort. This list is under construction as of Sept. 5, 2021.

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Pawel spends much of Monday lounging around the house. He gets up to help get Conor and Emma on the bus, so his dad can leave on time for work. After meeting the bus in his pajamas, he walks back to Dad’s house and lies down on the couch. He doesn’t really need a blanket, but he pulls it up to his nose anyway for the comfort factor and spends the day dozing and streaming old movies on his dad’s TV.

He never makes it as far as thinking about cooking anything for dinner, so he treats Dad and Conor to a night out. It eats up more time than he’d like, and it means Conor needs to scramble to finish the last of his homework once they’re home, but it’s nice to spend an hour letting someone else do the cooking.

Later that evening, after Conor goes to bed, Pawel and Dad spend the next couple of hours finally talking through everything that’s happened. Pawel doesn’t want to leave things out, but there are a few things he avoids for Dad’s safety, like the government involvement, and one thing he just doesn’t know how to explain.

He hasn’t seen Chelsea in a while. She’s relearning how to work within the world without draining souls to stay alive. He highly doubts she’s planning on stopping by his father’s for a visit, and even if she did, Dad never got to meet her as anything other than one of Pawel’s friends a decade ago.

Yeah. That is a complicated mess that he has no desire to go into detail about.

They go to bed late, but Pawel still wakes early on Tuesday to get his own kid on the bus. He figures it’s the least he can do, letting Dad get to work on time on a regular basis again.

Alone in the house again, Pawel feels refreshed and awake.

And bored.

He puts the phone on speaker as he putters around the kitchen, pressing to dial the number for Pels. She picks up after two rings, her voice gravelly and low. “What? Did we burn your house down?”

“I’m assuming you would have called me, rather than the other way around, if you burned my house down. Since you’re the one staying there.” Pawel rifles through his father’s cabinets until he finds a slow cooker. It’s dusty, but he’s pretty sure it’ll be functional. There should be enough ingredients for chili around.

He looks into a cabinet, and nearly bare shelves stare back at him.

Okay, maybe not.

“What?” Pels asks again. “You woke me up. Are you looking for my mom? I thought you had her number.”

Pawel finds tomatoes and beans, and starts emptying them into the slow cooker. “I do. I thought she’d be at work, so I called you instead.”

“It’s too early and—Dad, Dad, no, I’ll talk to him. Give me back my phone.”

“Hello, Ammon.” Pawel might not be able to hear Pels’s father, but he’s well aware by now that the ghost can hear him.

“He’s leaving, and I’m not putting this on speaker,” Pels mutters. “I thought he was going to start spending more time with Mom now, after the whole unbinding ceremony last weekend, but apparently she told him not to follow her to work.”

“Can she see him now?” That would be an interesting development. Pawel sets the empty can on the counter and reaches for a pad of sticky notes so he can scribble a reminder to himself to look into more detailed information about the ritual that the Burlington community performed for Pels and her mother in order to remove the bindings from their Talents.

“I think so. I mean, I’m pretty sure she can, but we’re not really talking about it. But seriously. Did you call for a reason? Cheyenne’s got these final projects to finish up since she left school a couple weeks early, so she’s not bothering me. Dad wasn’t bothering me. I was sleeping.” Pels grumbles under her breath.

“I just wanted to see how things were going.” Pawel peels off the sticky note and tapes it to the fridge, where he might see it later. Another search of the cabinets turns up chili powder and a few other seasonings. “Now that you’ve had a chance to settle into the house.”

“We’re fine. We’re figuring out how to be a family again without Peter.” Pels hesitates. “I’m learning how to see the world a whole different way now that I can see everything my Talent lets me see. Shane and Jess and I are talking a lot, and I’m going to figure this Mage thing out. So… thanks. For everything. Including letting us stay in your house while you’re gone.”

Pawel shakes some cocoa powder into the slow cooker, before adding a handful of dried onion. “Someone’s got to water the plants.”

“The plants were already dead when we got here.”

He laughs at Pels’s dry words. She’s not wrong. Pawel was gone for a month; everything went to hell, while his son went to stay with his dad.

Which, yeah. That brings him right back around to where he is now.

Pawel stares at the slow cooker. “If you need anything, you’ve got my number.”

“I’ll tell Mom to check in with you periodically. Oh and—” Pels hesitates before asking, “Cheyenne wants to know if it’s okay if she uses your backyard to practice flying?”

Pawel thinks of the time they used Alaric’s dragon to summon a Shadow in that same backyard. “That would not be the strangest thing the neighbors could have witnessed. But she should try not to break anything, including herself.”

“I think we can do that. Gotta go. Dad says there’s someone at the door.”

The line goes abruptly silent, and Pawel looks down at the screen of his phone as the connection is lost. “Okay, then.” He gives the vegetarian chili a quick stir, then puts the lid on, plugs it in, and switches the appliance on to cook on low. “That’s set, at least.”

He feels a little better, knowing that his home is in good hands, or at least, it’s not burning down. It sat empty for a month before; having someone live there for the summer should be better.

As long as none of the newly powered Mages set the place on fire.

Fire.

That reminds him.

Pawel checks one more time to ensure that the slow cooker is on and set to low, then heads back to the living room to dig out his laptop. He starts it up and finds the tab he’d left open for the outdoor music festivals, with a list of dates.

That’s what he thought: the festival that Rory and Thorne’s band, Phoenix Rising, is touring with will be in Buffalo this weekend.

Pawel buys four tickets. He figures Dad will come with them, and Conor will want to bring a friend. Probably Alan. And if Dad doesn’t want to go, Alan’s mom, Emily, might join them instead. He’s not worried if the tickets don’t all get used; he just wants options.

Conor will be pleased by the surprise, anyway.

He closes the laptop and looks back to the kitchen.

How the hell does his dad live like that, anyway? And what has Conor been eating?

No, he saw the answer to that this morning. Toaster pastries and cereal, and Pawel’s pretty sure that the last of the eggs were finished off as well.

Fine.

If Pawel’s going to be here all summer, squeezed into his dad’s small space, the least he can do is lay in supplies.

Pawel spends the day scouring the cabinets, making a long list of everything from prepared garlic and ginger for easy seasoning, to pantry staples like pasta, to critical items like various forms of protein for the freezer. His dad has a standing freezer in the garage, and even that seems woefully empty.

He loses time going through the sites online for each local grocery store, poring over the ads to determine which store will have the best value for this shopping trip. He types up the list to rearrange it by food type, so that as soon as Conor’s home they can head out and maybe they’ll be organized enough to get the trip done quickly.

“Dad!” The door bangs open. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving and something smells really good.”

“It’s not dinner time.” Pawel folds up the printout of the list and shoves it in his pocket. “We’re going shopping. Grab a snack.” His own stomach growls and he’s not sure how he made it from early morning to half past three without a meal. “I think I saw a box of granola bars.”

Conor lifts the lid to the slow cooker, inhaling deeply, while Pawel finds the last two granola bars. He tosses one to his son.

“Let’s get some food.”

“Can we get meat for the chili? That looked like it was all beans,” Conor grumbles. He buckles his belt, then directs Pawel to the grocery store.

Pawel already knows how to get there, but he’s not going to tell Conor that. Not when Conor seems comfortable in this place and is enjoying showing off that comfort level. He stays silent while Conor points out the entrance to the parking lot, then finds them a space close to the door.

Conor grabs a cart from the corral and pushes it into the store. “Emma’s Papa picks her up after school, so she doesn’t have to take the bus. She said they’re doing stuff today, so she couldn’t come over. I thought we could work on our—Emma!!”

Pawel catches the cart, stopping it from rolling when Conor takes off into the produce section. Emma’s answering shout is sharp and loud as Conor skids to a stop near a display laden with peaches. Pawel pushes the cart there, half an ear listening to the kids talking as if they weren’t together a half hour ago in school.

“Dad!” Conor waves at him, so Pawel picks up the pace.

He’s not sure who Emma is with. She stands next to an almost empty cart, except for a bag of peaches sitting in the seat. There doesn’t seem to be any sign of an adult.

“Emma’s shopping.”

Emma rolls her eyes, pushing braids back over her shoulder. “Obviously,” she says quietly. “Jennie had to pee. He’ll be back soon. She forgot to go before we left school.”

“Does your Papa have two carts? We can help you,” Conor offers. “You and me can do one cart, and Dad can do ours, and your Papa can do the other one.”

“You can call me Leo. I don’t think your dad would like it if you started calling me Papa like the rest of the kids.”

Pawel knows that voice.

He hasn’t heard the voice in a very long time, but there are certain phrases still etched in the deep recesses of his memory.

He exhales, and very deliberately makes himself look at the man who has joined him.

He looks good. Older, yeah. It’s been more than ten years since Leo graduated and left town for college. Apparently he’s back now, and from the police uniform, this would be Emma’s foster father that works for Pawel’s dad. He has the name ‘L. Papa’ embroidered on his uniform, just above the pocket, and his badge is still visible. Leo stands with one hand on the handle of the cart and reaches without looking to take a package of donuts out of the hands of the small girl sitting in the basket of the cart.

When he smiles, Pawel’s heart twists.

“I was glad to hear you reappeared,” Leo says quietly. His voice is a warm, low tenor, as careful and even as Pawel remembers.

“You’re fostering a Weather Witch.” It’s maybe not the best reply. Pawel refuses to wince when Conor snickers.

“I told you he’s single-minded sometimes,” Conor whispers loudly to Emma. “He’ll help find your parents. I know your Papa’s a police officer, but Dad’s a Mage.”

Emma’s brown eyes are furrowed and dark. Her lips purse, but she doesn’t say anything.

Leo takes two sheets of paper from his pocket, then hands one to Emma. “You know which cereals the boys like best. Pick one for yourself and Jennie that they won’t eat before you get a chance. Since you’re the one with me, you get to pick the pasta. I know it says twenty boxes of mac & cheese, but we only need ten. We’ll be shopping again next week.”

Emma takes the list and reads it over solemnly. “Nevaeh said we need more tuna, but it’s not on the list. I’ll get that, too. C’mon, Conor. There were some cookies on sale. Help me pick out ones that the boys won’t eat before we can.”

“Popcorn,” Conor replies. “Remember, we used the last of it last weekend? Did that get on your list?”

They roll away with the almost-empty cart before Pawel can protest.

The small girl in Leo’s cart has the box of donuts in her hands again. She opens the plastic carefully and takes one out.

“Jennie,” Leo says softly.

“I need sugar to sparkle,” she whispers around a mouthful of chocolate cream.

Speechless feels so strange. Pawel can’t remember the last time his tongue has been this tangled. “I—” He tries to break his own silence, and fails miserably.

“Things get chaotic with five kids in the house,” Leo says. When he smiles again, his pale green eyes crinkle around the corners with tiny lines that definitely weren’t there before. They match the faint hints of salt in his dark hair. “Conor’s got a lot of energy. He probably keeps you on your toes.”

“Dad says I’ve been cursed with a kid that’s just like I was,” Pawel says. He pushes his hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to recover his balance. “He didn’t tell me you were one of Emma’s foster fathers. Just that she had two of them. Foster fathers. And two missing parents.”

Meeting his ex-boyfriend shouldn’t be this unsettling.

Pawel blames it on the fact that he’s probably still in a sleep deficit—two weeks is not enough time to catch up on missing sleep for several months.

“There’s a local teacher who works with a group that finds placements for Talented kids who need Talented families to stay with.” Leo has the second page of his list in his hand, and he refers to it while picking out produce.

Right. Shopping.

Pawel looks at his own list and tries to focus on that to give himself a little distance and wrangle his brain back into working order. Salad. They definitely need things for salad. And fresh vegetables for roasting wouldn’t be bad.

“Alice asked Colt if he knew anyone who might be able to take on kids about four years ago, and when he said we would, she put us in touch with Lucy and Rowan, and that’s how we got Matt, our first foster kid.”

Leo’s voice rolls over Pawel, dropping tidbits of information that he struggles to grab onto.

“Matt’s not bad,” Jennie says around a mouthful of donut. “Sometimes.”

Pawel latches onto the names, his fingers closing around a broccoli crown and holding it a little too tightly. He fumbles with the plastic bag. “Lucy and Rowan? And… Colt?” He had to have heard those wrong.

He manages to get the bag open and shoves two broccoli crowns into it, dropping them in the basket of his cart.

Leo is silent.

When Pawel looks at him, Leo stands with his fingers wrapped around the handle of the cart, his grip tight. “Colt Harrison,” he says. “My husband. You—”

“Dated him in high school, yeah.” Pawel finishes Leo’s sentence for him.

That’s… too much information. Pawel is struggling to assimilate it.

“Dad did not mention that,” he mutters.

“This doesn’t have to be weird.” Leo grabs the container of donuts and moves it to another area of the cart. Jennie could still get to it, but she pouts instead, slouching down in one corner of the basket, her lower lip sticking out and flecked with chocolate. “Colt and I met when he was interning at the law office where he works now. We’ve been married about three years. We didn’t even know each other back in high school.”

“It doesn’t have to be weird,” Pawel echoes. He’s right, of course. It shouldn’t be weird. It’s not weird at all. People meet. They fall in love. They get married. They have kids. Sometimes there’s a small world effect and it turns out that they may have already been connected beforehand.

That’s all Pawel is in this; an ancient history connection.

“Your dad talks about you all the time,” Leo says. He pulls a napkin from his pocket and cleans Jennie’s fingers. “Try not to touch anything else,” he admonishes gently before tucking the dirty napkin back in his pocket.

He’s so careful with her. Pawel remembers when Leo used to take care of his younger siblings. It only makes sense that he’d be good with kids now. As big and scruffy and rough looking as he is, he’s gentle, too.

“I need to—” Pawel holds up the list, showing just how long it is. “Dad’s cupboards are empty. I’m not sure what he and Conor have been eating, and I get the feeling that it’s takeout so I really don’t want to know. I need to stock up.”

“So do we. Matt’s eleven and Clan, and Duke’s fourteen. We go through a lot of food in our house.” Leo heads toward the back of the store. “Come on. We’ll catch up with the kids if we get moving.”

Pawel exhales and trails behind Leo. Jennie peeks around him, her thumb in her mouth as she looks at Pawel. Small brown brows furrow deeply before she turns away and curls up.

Her snores are adorable little rasps of sound. He can’t think how she’s sleeping through the rattle and squeak of the cart she rides in. Still, she’s silent as they work their way through the aisles, collecting items from their respective lists.

They turn down one aisle and spot Conor and Emma from a distance. Conor has sparks around his hand while Emma reaches for something falling from the shelves.

Pawel coughs, and Conor turns to give him an innocent look.

Wait. That reminds him.

“You’re taking in Talented kids,” Pawel says slowly. “So you or Colt must be—”

“We both are,” Leo says, glancing at him sideways. “I grew up Clan. Colt’s Emergent, but that’s his story to tell. I heard about you being a Mage from your dad. He’s proud of everything you’ve done at PHU.”

Pawel waves that away. “Youngest dean. Newest department. Only real expert on Talent as a whole because I’m the only person who’s bothered to go down the rabbit hole far enough to study it formally.”

“It’s still impressive.” Leo huffs.

“I just… I never knew.” Pawel thinks back and tries to catalog Leo’s family based on what he knows of Clan. He didn’t interview them for his thesis; they weren’t on his radar as a large Clan community. They grew up as a part of the town.

“You weren’t meant to.” Leo dips into his pocket and hands the napkin back to Jennie, who has somehow woken from her nap and polished off a second donut while they weren’t paying attention. “That was before the Emergence. We took a lot of care to be able to live here without anyone knowing.”

“But your community—”

“Widespread and buried within this town and the surrounding ones. We never really wanted to withdraw from the rest of the world. Which is what makes us good candidates for fostering. We don’t have those same prejudices that some might have.” Leo drops a hand to the top of Jennie’s head, and she looks up at him, smiling brightly.

There are, indeed, sparkles all around her, the air shimmering with her contentment and happiness.

“Conor wants me to help find Emma’s parents,” Pawel says quietly. “At the same time, I’m not sure if he really wants me to get involved, after everything that happened this last year. What do you—”

“I think they’re dead,” Leo says quietly. His hand still rests atop Jennie’s head, but his gaze is fixed on Emma. “I can tell you what little we know, but everything points to them being dead. The question is what happened to their bodies.”

Unfortunately, Pawel’s had experience with issues like that and can think of at least one scenario.

Which might mean they’re not dead.

They also might not be prepared to be parents anymore, either.

Leo pitches his voice louder. “You should come over for dinner some night.”

Both Conor and Emma turn to look at them. Emma grips the side of the cart, stepping up and holding on while Conor gives it a good push before jumping up himself. It sends them racing towards Leo and Pawel, until Pawel puts up a hand, throwing out a gentle cushion of magic to stop them before they crash.

“Yes!” Conor yells. “Dinner!”

“You could come over and meet everyone. If you want to.” Emma’s gaze drifts away, like she really doesn’t care about the answer.

“They’re like my second family. Third, maybe, because of Alan, but my second one here,” Conor insists. “And Emma’s dads are really nice.”

“They aren’t my dads.”

“I’m sure Colt would love to see you, too,” Leo adds.

Thanks for the gut punch.

“He says yes,” Conor says quickly. “Right dad? You say yes.”

What else is he supposed to do?

“Yes.” Pawel fishes out his phone, unlocking it and staring down. He doesn’t resist when Leo slips it from his fingers, opening up his text app and sending something.

Leo places the phone back in Pawel’s hands. “The first number is mine, the second is Colt’s. In case you don’t still have them.”

“I fried my phone and lost everything,” Pawel admits. “Back when I Emerged. So. Thank you.”

“It’s good to see you.” Leo’s touch is heavy and warm where he claps his hand against Pawel’s shoulder, then squeezes.

Pawel could hug him, but he thinks that might be awkward. He’s never had this situation. He has three exes—two of them he hasn’t seen since they broke up, and the other one is Chelsea. Which is just complicated.

“Yeah, you too.” He watches as Leo walks away, Emma pushing the second cart beside him. Pawel wonders just how distracted Leo must feel since Jennie looks like she’s grabbing her third donut.

Or maybe that’s just how it is. Maybe he spoils his kids with plenty of sugar.

It’s not like Pawel knows anything about how Leo’s life is now.

Conor tugs sharply at Pawel’s shirt. “Dad. When are we going to dinner over at Emma’s house?”

Pawel looks down at his phone, at the new conversation sitting there. All it says is, this is Pawel.

He locks his phone and shoves it in his pocket. “I don’t know yet, but not tonight. Let’s go find that meat you wanted for the chili. Chicken might be good. We could sauté it up quickly and add it so it’ll get a couple hours in the slow cooker with the rest. Or we could cook it up with spices and add it afterwards.”

“You’re just saying that because chicken is healthy,” Conor grumbles. “I got more toaster pastries. Dziadziu lets me eat them.”

“I let you eat them, too, just possibly not in the same quantities,” Pawel protests. It’s not an argument he’s going to have right now, anyway.

He’s going to focus on finishing up the shopping, and finishing cooking dinner.

He’s going to focus on anything other than the fact that somehow both of the boys he dated in high school grew up to meet each other and end up married.

Yeah, he’s going to do his damnedest to focus on anything but that.

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cristalknife · 3 years

Text

Kadam Week 2021 Day 1 ~ Do You Want To Be A Pirate?

So this is me trying to not start something on a platform only to post solely somewhere else aka AO3 and ff.net you can find the complete list of Kadam Week 2021 prompts and you might find more stories on the Kadam Week 2021 AO3 collection

That said, the fist prompt was Puzzles and Games. And what represents better both than a treasure hunt? So here we go, I present to you Do You Want To Be A Pirate?

All the student body was abuzz, the annual treasure hunt was to be announced soon, it was always a great event. Mainly because the winner of the event earned a full booklet of backstage passes. Sixteen of them, completely blank to be used at the winner discretion during the current theatre season.

No limits were imposed on how the passes were to be used, be in a single show with a large group or even touring all the shows solo. The catch was that if multiple shows were to be watched by a group of two people up, the winner had to be there for each show.

Those booklets were the courtesy of Alumni working in the field. And to be honest it was a fun event for the faculty as well to create the set of riddles and clues needed to reach the destination.

It was supposed to be a moment of fun, but at the same time given the kind of prize, it was not meant to be effortless.

However to the faculty disappointment, the individuals only rule with no cooperation allowed present in the previous editions, resulted in no winners for the past couple of years.

After consulting the sponsor, it was decided that for this year students could sign up as pairs.

But if the students decided to sign up as pair, then both the winners would have to be present each time they were to use the passes.

And apparently that wasn’t a condition that some were comfortable with, while others like Kurt were actually overjoyed.

Once he heard of the treasure hunt, he went out searching for Adam, barely containing his elation and desire to share the news.

Upon finding his boyfriend, Kurt was barely able to contain his excitement and he launched himself into Adam's arm sure he'd be caught.

Adam grinned and kissed Kurt back, holding him securely before saying "Hellu Love, what got you so excited?"

Kurt chuckled and as soon as his feet touched the floor once more he raised the flier and pointed to the fine prints "They mentioned a change in the rules and on this year’s event people can sign up as pairs. The catch is that both need to be present when using the passes, so you're game signing up with me?"

Adam raised an eyebrow curious before reading the flier aloud "The Annual Treasure Hunt? Is that what got you so excited? Except for my freshman year, I don't recall any of those events actually ever having winners"

Erika came up from the side and quipped "Three years ago was the last time someone won, but it was again one of the last seniors graduating. After that batch left, no one ever figured out the clues, I'm surprised the faculty still does it"

Kurt shrugged "Well the prize makes very much sense for the school, I mean blank passes for the backstage of current productions? That sounds interesting, and sixteen of them would actually mean we could all go together as a group and still have two spares for the winning team to get another show, or split between two productions..."

Kurt speech had most of the Apples smiling and send to their favourite freshie an adoring look.

Adam still amazed by his boyfriend asked softly "So you suggest a common effort and register more than one team, and then Apples parties at my place, where we could all chill out and talk about our days?"

JJ quipped up "Only if that involved baked goods from both our favourite bakers, because Adam ma man, I love your cookies but gimme Kurt's casserole and salty cupcakes any time, and I could even fight you off and offer my hand in marriage for having those every day"

Kurt snorted and swatted away playfully JJ's offered hand "You are not even remotely bi-curious, If I wanted to live with an overgrown kid who'd stay with me for my cooking I'd simply invite my brother to move in with me"

Everyone around chuckled at that and JJ pouted mockingly offended "Are you insinuating I'm not man enough for you?"

Adam then stepped in smirking "More like implying that all the main male leads in his life are already cast, and you dear friend can only be the occasional torn in our butt, one that comes every now and then to offer his company in exchange for delicious food..."

Grinning like a cheshire cat JJ quipped back "Well we all know that the good ones are all gay, unavailable or happily being both together"

Everyone broke down in giggles and with resolute nods each claimed a partner. The divide and conquer idea Kurt had was very intriguing, and the thought of getting the upper hand on an event that even the Perks couldn't get their way by popularity alone, or that no one else won for the past couple of years had its allure…

Especially given the mixed composition of techies and performers in their group.

Seeing Kurt smiling radiantly was something each member of the Apples enjoyed and cherished.

Especially since the big fallout, or as it was known amongst them, the great purge of the toxic influx in Kurt's life.

Also known as the day when Miss fallen out Diva Berry left the loft in a huff and Kurt and his roommate Santana took the storming out literally and changed the key of the padlock.

Sending all of Berry’s stuff back to the temporary storage place two blocks away from bushwick, with a 3 days grace period and a week paid with Berry's part of the deposit.

Kurt himself was just very happy to be surrounded by friends who supported him as much as he supported them.

Being with Adam and being friends with all the members of the Adam's Apples, had given him a perspective he never knew he desperately needed, and it also lowered his tolerance for taking crap by those who were supposed to be on his side.

Kurt was not secretly very excited by the prospect of looking forward to something in his life that could be just fun and despite being officially a competition. He was still able to live it as an adventure, to be shared with his boyfriend and all their friends as well.

As they walked away from the registration boot and reading the first clue ‘Every adventure needs a captain to sail for the treasure island’

Kurt giggle when Adam playfully whispered in his ear "Aye aye captain let's get our sea legs on"

Kurt nodded and they made it to the costume department through the back corridors, not wanting to tip off the other not Apples participants, while their friends instead received simply a gentle reminded in their text chat, that all hearties were to meet at rehearsal later in the week same place same time.

Indeed their guess was correct when they found the next clue stating ‘Never forget those who came before you’

Kurt and Adam took the chance to grab a quick lunch as they discussed the clue. Adam was the first one to attempt to solve it "If we are thinking about the school that would send us to the hall of fame"

Kurt nodded slowly but tapped his finger against his lips "But what if it's a more general outlook? We are learning to get into an industry that broadens beyond the limits of the school and its social circles, even if those are still important"

Adam hummed softly mulling over it "So you're suggesting more like the library?"

Kurt nodded "I'm just unsure whether we are supposed to search in the history section itself or go more for the history of Broadway and theatre section"

Adam nodded slowly "there's no rule about not searching blindly both"

Kurt chuckled and nodded as well, after finishing his cup he raised an eyebrow in silent question and received a simple nod in response.

Once in the library, Adam was the one to take over the history of Broadway and the theatre section while Kurt went through the History books.

It took a while but finally Adam was successful and found a piece of plasticised parchment with what appeared half of the final clue.

The mention of a second half made him frown, but with nothing else to be found there, he simply took a picture of it with his phone.

He then placed the clue back inside the book and the book back on the shelf before going to find Kurt, hoping his got lucky and found the second half.

"Did you get anything?"

Kurt shook his head a little put off "No absolutely nothing, you?"

Adam nodded "Yeah I found something but it's only half of the final clue"

Kurt frowned confused "Guess it's time to start some baking then hmmm?"

Adam smiled and leaned forward to give Kurt a small peck on his cheek trying to stop the frowning "We could do directly at my place and then make an evening out of it"

The offer, as Adam hoped, brought a smile on Kurt's face as he replied coyly "I'd love that, are you offering just the evening or it could turn into a sleepover"

Adam grinned and moved so that he could kiss those cheeky lips, when he was almost where he wanted to be, he breathed quickly "We'll swing by the loft if there's something you absolutely need for tomorrow classes"

He then proceeded to thoroughly kiss his boyfriend.

After classes ended for the day, Kurt sent a message to their chat group informing everyone that it was baking time in the afternoon

Adam raised an eyebrow curiously at the message and Kurt shrugged stating simply "That way we can be sure basically everyone will show up with something to contribute, just before or around dinner time, and then the meeting will become a movie night"

Adam snorted because indeed knowing their friends that was what would most likely happen, "It wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I offered to make an evening out of it darling"

Kurt grinned, mischief gleaming clearly in his eyes "That's why I raised your offer to a sleepover instead..."

And true to Kurt's expectations, that evening all the Apples who didn't have to work, appeared at Adam's doorstep with offerings for the shared evening meal.

Of course those who had worked demanded a do-over with double baked goodies of their faves as personal share...

Once everyone was seated around, Paul, who paired up with JJ for the treasure hunt, asked "How was your hunt we've only found half of the final clue"

Kurt wrinkled his nose "we reached only half of the final clue as well care to see if we've all found the same half or if we lucked out?"

Adam took off his phone and started to read aloud "Congratulation adventurers, you're holding half of the treasure map holding the clue for the final answer you will have to give to someone to receive your treasure, think back on the steps you took to find this and then go and find the last missing piece"

JJ jumped up from his seat exclaiming excitedly "Yes we've got both!"

Paul shook his head smiling and took off his own phone reading "Congratulation adventurers, you're holding half of the treasure map holding the clue to figure out who is the officer that you'll need to impress with the answer that you still need to find to receive your treasure, think back on the steps you took to find this and then go and find the last missing piece"

Everyone was suddenly buzzing with unrestrained excitement when Kurt asked pragmatically "So how are we going to tackle this? Reading both clues together and then split between them or focusing the attention on a single one?"

Adam suggested swiftly "We could actually read them both and then see how to tackle the easier one first"

When everyone nodded Paul continued reading their clue "You might go to Central Park Or catch a show on Broadway... Where in the world would you be to get to these by subway? Twice... I mean the answer is New York clearly but how does that help us identify who to give our final answer to?"

General groaning raised from around the room when Erika cut in "Adam what is your clue?"

Adam complied and read it for everyone perusal "What show is next in this pattern: A Chorus Line, Into the Woods, Bat Boy, Pacific Overtures, Little Women, Damn Yankees, Camelot, The Pajama Game, Children of Eden. As a hint, there is more than one show that correctly works, but one show fits more ‘perfectly’ than any others.”

Adam raised his phone to let everyone seeing the picture and commented

“As a side note there's only one blank line but its length doesn't seem indicative as it was formatted to look good rather than give a hint on the last name, or at least that’s what it looks like to me"

And everyone had to nod at that consideration at that point Chris' groan was the loudest "I don't get yall, neither of those is any more clear than mat moss paint..."

Kurt sniggered but offered a plate with Chris' favourite cookies on it "It's ok, we can work it out together so any ideas?"

Matt who had been quiet this far asked Kurt speculatively "You already have an idea for at least one of them don't you?"

Kurt looked taken aback and blushed getting himself busy with the food "Nothing solid.."

At that point Adam walked behind Kurt and wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist as he pressed himself against his boyfriend "It's ok Love, you don't have to be right to speak your mind, we are here brainstorming there's no judging with us"

JJ quipped teasingly "I mean we'll obviously judge and tease you till the end of times for getting flustered the first time we took you out for blow jobs, but for this… I mean you're all going to hearing the suggestion my gorilla brain comes up with"

Chris snorted and quipped teasingly "Given what gets spawned out of your mouth I thought you would have said instead that yours is like a pig’s brain."

Matt joined in to the teasing, shaking his head as he grinned salaciously and wiggling his eyebrows "Nah a pig's brain is too big we are talking mouse if everything is in proportion."

Kurt coughed at the double meaning implied in that sentence, he feared JJ would take it badly. But he was once again surprised when JJ put theatrically one hand on his cheek, the other on his chest clearly mimicking a delightful surprise "Oh Matt, my darling why didn't you said that before… All this time you were checking me out because you wanted some of my sweet sweet love, comma hear lemme give ya some sugar baby"

Everyone erupted in laugher and Matt maturely threw his napkin aiming for JJ's face "You wish man, you wish"

JJ pouted "Harsh dude, harsh, you could have at least throw your cupcake with the napkin"

Kurt sent a levelled glare to both boys "If anyone dares to throw our delicious baked food not only they will stay for the cleanup, but they will be banned to get more baked goodies for the next month"

A single "Ouch" escaped Matt's lips before he silenced himself and raised his arms in surrender.

Paul swatted the back of JJ's head "Don't upset daddy, or I'm so going to gag you next time we are all in the same room to prevent that from happening, I rather enjoy our baked goodies"

Erika quipped at Paul "Which is why you shouldn't save JJ from himself, let him dig his own grave, more goodies for us... Kurt had not said anything about lowering the amount of baked goodies, only put a ban on who can access them"

Chris chuckled and offered their fist to Erika, as they said grinning "Well said girl well said"

Erika smiled brilliantly and bumped the fist and then both made an explosion motion as they both retreated their arms.

Kurt raised an eyebrow at being addressed as daddy, but Adam just held him a little closer and mouthed later.

So Kurt took the handle of the situation and started sharing his idea hoping for the current teasing to come to a natural rest "well I was thinking on Paul and JJ's clue... What if we need to take that final twice literally? As in the correct answer is New York, New York"

Erika's eyes shone brighter "Like the Scorsese's movie?"

Kurt nodded "Yes that's also the name of the most known song from that movie, so New York New York could be the solution"

Paul pondered and then said "Well if we are talking about a movie would that mean that we are to talk with the dean of the drama department?"

Kurt bit his lips and then he continued explaining his thoughts "I was thinking more about the fact it might refer to the song, which then in turn would make Madam T be the one to speak with, given that she's the dean of vocal performance. And with the movie being also a musical maybe the singing component is more pronounced and would lead to her instead of Mr Keller?"

Adam then said serenely "Once we figure out the answer we could even decide to split and each team going to both of them with the solution."

Murmurs of agreement run through the room until Matt stated "So now we just have to figure out what that list of musicals have in common?"

JJ scratched his head before raising and grabbing few more cupcakes to munch on "Do you think that the fact they cross two centuries means anything?"

Chris promptly opened Adam's computer and pulled up the wikipedia pages of all the listed musicals before shaking their head "Nope they are not in chronological order so it’s not that"

Paul then quipped "And that wouldn't make any sense, the additional hint says that there's only one answer that would fit perfectly... it's not like there's only one new musical coming out every single year"

Erika asked then "I am not familiar with all the titles but are they really all musicals?"

Adam answered "Yeah all of those listed are musicals, so maybe we need to check on the songs?"

Matt then wondered aloud "What if it's something all the songs have? Maybe there's a matching title or a recurring theme?"

Kurt took out his phone and looked around and said "well there's seven of us and nine titles maybe we could each open the list and check them side by side?"

JJ grinned and took out his phone as well "That's a great idea"

Kurt started listing all the songs of chorus line, Matt went on with the ones from into the woods, JJ giggled like a maniac as he read the bat boy's list. Paul read on the Pacific Overtures and Erika listed the ones from Little Women.

When Adam, who was reading from the Damn Yankees, reached the song titled Six months, Chris exclaimed excited while raising a finger silently asking for a moment "Holy moley I think we got something going here"

Everyone turned, waiting for more explanation that Chris promptly provided "Each of those musicals has a song with a number in their titles" and then they pointed to Kurt who quickly caught up and said "One" and then each proceeded in order Matt said "It takes two", JJ said excited "Three Bedroom House "

Paul grinned starting to see the path as he said "Four Black Dragons"

Erika was grinning madly as she said "Five forever"

Then JJ still super hyped by having discovered the key to decode the clue he asked Chris "So what are the others?"

Chris smirked and started prattling "In Camelot we have ‘The Seven Deadly Virtues’, The Pajama Game has a song called ‘7½ Cents’ while the Children of Eden has ‘A Piece of Eight’”

Kurt hummed softly and considered aloud "So we have nine musicals mentioned but the last number is eight... What if they had already given us the answer and it's literally Nine?"

Adam whistled impressed "That actually makes so much sense..."

Paul groaned "And if you explain it like that it seems so obvious too"

Erika shrugged "All riddles once explained make so much sense that you usually feel stupid for not reasoning it out before... That's why they are considered brain teasers"

Chris who in the meantime checked out Kurt's suggestion finally quipped triumphantly "That's it guys, we have a winner the answer is indeed Nine, which has a song called guess what?”

Chuckling everyone said at once “Nine"

JJ then scratched his head and then asked "So now we are only unsure on who we need to tell our answer to?"

Paul quipped happily “Me says Adam and Kurt follow Kurt’s reasoning, we follow ours, that way if our suspicion is correct and Kurt is right it’ll be them and not us having a private date… No offence man but I’d really prefer not having my girlfriend gutting me for going out on a date with you”

JJ snorted before sounding almost genuinely upset “Harsh man, harsh”

Paul patted JJ shoulder when Kurt asked confused “But what about the others?”

Matt answered smiling “Kurt you four are the only ones who got to the final clue, I personally wouldn’t like to try to get the prize knowing I barely got to the second one.”

Chris and Erika nodded as well confirming they felt the same way.

Kurt felt relieved that he wasn’t taking advantage of his friends. With everything sorted out, everyone else left leaving just Kurt and Adam alone.

After they settled down Kurt turned to Adam, with a questioning look on his face before asking “Is now later? Do I get to know what the daddy comment was about?”

Adam chuckled softly “Nothing bad Love, I can assure you that, you know that I’m considered the mother hen of the group right?”

Kurt hummed softly nodding as he snuggled closer to Adam who then continued “And well you’re too sweet and kind to all the Apples to be considered a father, but still we are together and we both tend to take care of them so…”

Kurt chuckled and finished shaking his head “So I’m daddy… Not sure how to feel about having so many kids that are all older than me”

They both sniggered at that.

The next day, when they went talking with Madam Tibideaux, they discovered that indeed Kurt’s reasoning was correct, and they got out of her office with the prize and matching grins. ~The End~

#kadam week 2021 #kadam fic #kadam #glee #glee prompts filling #my kadam fic #my glee fic #treasure hunting #riddles #long post #it's a fic what did you expect #my writing is not suited for tumblr #~3.8K words of story #I tried my best formatting it #vcg73

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theretirementstory · 3 years

Text

Bonne apres-midi et bienvenue, I am late today, not because I have been lazing in bed, I have been up and out to a market with my friend Anie. It was at a chateau so a lovely setting or it would have been if it hadn’t kept raining. Anie is a little bit like me (must be why we get on so well) we go to these markets and look, ask questions but don’t buy unnecessary “stuff” (technical term). We went inside the chateau where there was one room full of books for sale…….can you believe I walked out with four books all in English, two of them are rather big books so I should have enough to keep me going until Christmas. We wandered through the other rooms but it was the “book room” that won the day for both of us. We did have a little bit of a drama as we were leaving when Anie’s car “touched” another one, but no damage to either so it was just a “kiss”. We had a pleasant drive back and then Anie came in for a cup of tea. I was panicking, I had no cake or biscuits, what on earth could I give her to eat with her tea? Well, remembered that I had bought crackers, I put out cheese, crisps, nuts, cornichons and cherry tomatoes, blimey you would have thought that I had conjured up a three course meal, she was so appreciative.

The second round of regional elections is taking place today, and Anie was reminded of the importance of voting as we passed a “polling station”. She will be going out this afternoon to cast her vote.

It is 21c at the moment and just cloudy but more rain is forecast for later today. It also looks as though we are going to have a lot of rain in the week too, but I really do not care as it waters my plants. I was picking broad beans for Anie when she arrived and then I went out to gather my strawberries, two big ones today, there are lots on the plants so should have more over the next few days.

I phoned the gardener and he came out to trim the hedges at the back of the garden. There were two of them this time and they arrived about 9.15 and were finished and gone by 10.05, its all about having the right tools for the job and having someone clearing up is always a winner. Anyway, I am very pleased with the results. I had asked him to cut the hedge (which really belongs to my neighbour), she had said she would get it cut possibly this coming week. When I told her that my “man” had done it, her first reaction was “how much”? Now we are both women on our own and having a raggy hedge on my side was not very attractive so it was in my interest to get it cut anyway, so I just gesticulated that it didn’t matter, I would pay as I was having the back hedge cut anyway.

There has been another Tesco order to be organised for my cousin in London. It has all been delivered and she appreciates what we do to make her life easier.

Marie-Therese messaged to say that she was “tired” and wouldn’t be coming to town this week. I asked if we had done too much last Saturday, but she didn’t think it was that, her dog had got out of the garden and she had been looking for him with her neighbour and she thinks it was that that had tired her.

I mixed up my cleaning rota this week and spent a lot of time working downstairs and in the garden. knew I had done too much in the garden when I found that I couldn’t bend down without pain, but aren’t you supposed to work through the pain barrier? Even though I say so myself the garden does look good.

I went for my second vaccination, yippee I am fully vaccinated, I am so pleased. Still wearing my mask, carrying my hand sanitizer and keeping my distance but that’s how I want to be, don’t want to risk anything.

So apart from receiving my water bill for the period January to June 2020, having to pay my car insurance, plus MOT and pre-MOT service, pay the gardener, I received a message from the man who is going to lay my terrace he said he will come either the end of this coming week or the week after………….it’s all payout! Never mind I will have a very smart garden (I hope), my car insured for another year and an MOT for the two years, can’t be that bad can it?

“The Paralegal” has had another fraught week this last week, he knows that the first three days of next week will be busy due to the end of the stamp duty holiday, then he will just have two days left to work before he waves bye bye to that firm. Then we can both have a bit of relax before he starts work again. He is going for his first vaccination this coming Tuesday, that is good too.

Lucy has been going to work but has managed to catch up with “The Paralegal” and he was able to see the babies “Tilly and Chester” too. I know that always makes him happy. Lucy has worked out her final result for the course she has taken and she should be very pleased with the result.

“The Mummy” has finished her final assignment for her course and tells me that the baby can come anytime now as she is ready. As it is due in less than two weeks, it may decide to hold on, who knows it’s a baby after all!

“The Daddy” has had his first week back at work after having two weeks holiday. He seems to have enjoyed being back and no doubt apart from the “excitement” of waiting for the new baby they also have the new house to look forward to. New furniture and furnishings have been ordered, dear me it’s all about money there too!

Not forgetting my gorgeous granddaughter, who had a couple of nightmares this week (fortunately she hadn’t had a video call with her grand-mere, otherwise it may have been more)! Probably just a phase she is going through. She went to see her great grandma this week, so that was lovely for them both.

Now I really must have a little relaxation, clear my head and prepare for the week ahead.

Jusqu’a la semaine prochaine.

****STOP PRESS**** “The Mummy’s” cat is going to a new home tomorrow evening. It was something that they were going to do before the arrival of my granddaughter but there was not a suitable home for her. This time they have found someone/somewhere suitable and so that is a very happy outcome.

#chateaudevaudremont #barsuraube #photography #nature #exploring #livingthedream #trees #crafts #baking

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noona-clock · 4 years

Text

The Engineer - Part 3

Genre: Engineer!AU

Pairing: Chanwoo x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 | Words: 2,052

“...Are you all right?” Miles asked suspiciously.

Well, it was more like a mix of suspicion and utter bewilderment. And you knew he wasn’t asking if you were all right physically -- he was asking if you were all right mentally.

“Yes, Miles!” you cried, your brow furrowed deeply.

Your best friend began to shake his head quite vigorously. “No... no, I don’t think you are.”

“Oh, ple --”

“No,” he interrupted. “You say this guy is cute, yes?”

You shot him a frustrated look before nodding in agreement. Yes, he was cute. You could never deny that.

“So, a cute, smart, athletic guy gave you his phone number and wants to take you out, and you... don’t know what you should do?! You can’t be all right!” Miles exclaimed. And then he whipped his head toward the stove and added, “Babe, back me up here.”

“I agree,” Tristan replied, his voice a tad muffled as his back was still to you. He was busy tending to the pasta but not busy enough to gang up on you, apparently. “Why are you even hesitating?”

“Because -- I told you! He’s way younger than me!” you reminded them. “When he started high school, I had already graduated! His older friends are still younger than me!”

Miles simply looked at you as if you were certifiably nuts. But then he said, “So?! Sure, an age gap matters if one person is in high school and the other is in university, but not at our age! Besides, it’s not that much of an age gap.”

“It’s really not,” Tristan piped up.

You let out a frustrated groan and leaned forward to let your forehead hit the kitchen table with a gentle thud. “I never thought it would be that big of a deal,” you admitted. “I never even thought about it that much, period. But now that I’m actually faced with maybe going on a date with a younger guy...? I don’t know, it makes me feel weird.”

You heard Miles sigh softly and then you felt his rest his hand over yours. You knew him well enough by now to know that he was about to give up.

“Well,” he murmured. “If it makes you feel weird... if you’re uncomfortable then that’s all that really matters.”

Slowly, you lifted your head up to look at him, your expression both wary and grateful at the same time. “Thank you,” you said, reaching over with your other hand to grasp his and squeeze it warmly.

Miles simply smiled at you... and, like I said, you knew him well enough by now.

You knew that smile meant he was holding something back.

“What?” you asked, pursing your lips at him. “What is it?”

“Nothing!” he chirped -- a little too quickly.

So, you pursed your lips even more. “Miles, just tell me.”

Miles’ smile fell, and he replied, “I just -- I think you should at least try to get to know him a little more first before dismissing him based on something he has no control over.”

“He’s right,” Tristan said as he approached the kitchen table with two full plates of spaghetti. “You should.”

Your eyes widened as Tristan placed one of the plates in front of you, and you quickly said, “Let me think about it while I eat,” before reaching for your fork.

You hadn’t realized how incredibly hungry you’d been until you’d seen the spaghetti on your plate, and now, you knew you wouldn’t be able to make any sort of decision until you’d eaten at least half of your meal.

I mean, who ever decided something this important on an empty stomach?

As you began to slurp up the noodles and stuff your face with Tristan’s homemade garlic bread, your best friend and his husband began conversing quietly. You weren’t sure what they were talking about because your mind was now racing with thoughts, but they most likely had no intention of including you. Not they meant to exclude you, of course -- they just understood how you worked, and they were intentionally not talking to you or asking you questions so you could eat and think in peace.

There was one question you had to ask yourself: If you took age out of the equation, would you be interested in Chanwoo? Would you go on a date with him?

You barely had to even think about the answer.

Yes. You would!

Like Miles had mentioned just a few minutes ago, Chanwoo was cute. He had an incredibly attractive face, and his dimples made your insides melt. He was athletic. At the very least, he was good at baseball. Or throwing a baseball. And he was smart. He had to be of a certain intelligence caliber if he was a mechanical engineer.

Even though you didn’t know him very well at all, those three things were definitely enough to pique your interest and make you want to go out with him.

So, now the next question you had to ask yourself was this: Could you take age out of the equation?

Was the fact he was cute, athletic, and smart enough to help you overcome how weird you felt about being so much older than him?

I mean, it really depended on what he was like when you got to know his more in-depth personality. There was definitely more to him than just his face, his ability to throw a baseball, and his career, and if what lay beneath all that only added to your interest...

Then, yeah. It would probably be enough to help you overcome how weird you felt about being so much older than him.

The part before you got there, though -- the “getting to know you” part... it would probably be a little rough.

But you were hardly ever one to back down from a challenge.

After chewing and swallowing your mouthful of spaghetti (you were currently about halfway done with your portion), you set down your fork and lifted your head to look at Miles and Tristan.

“Okay,” you began, catching their attention. Both of them snapped their gazes to you, pausing their conversation and movements so they could hear what you had to say. “As usual, I have come to realize that I agree with you.”

“Of course, you do,” Miles replied without hesitation.

“We knew it was just a matter of time,” Tristan added.

You scowled at them briefly before composing yourself and trying to act like an adult rather than a petty teenager. (Which, for the record, took about all of your mental and emotional strength. The temptation to act like a petty teenager was very powerful.)

“For now, I think I can put aside the age thing. I don’t know him well at all, but what I do know about him is enough to intrigue me. And I think I would regret it if I didn’t at least give him a chance.”

“Absolutely,” Miles agreed. “You know what we always say.”

“You don’t know if you don’t try,” Tristan finished.

Your brow furrowed, and you said, “I thought you always said ‘You can’t win if you don’t play,’ and you’re always talking about playing the Lottery.”

“It’s the same thing!” Tristan pointed out.

“It really is,” Miles nodded.

You simply rolled your eyes before picking your fork back up so you could dig into the rest of your spaghetti. You knew better than to argue with them.

But let it be said: Their saying was ‘You can’t win if you don’t play,’ and they did say that every time you asked them why they bought Lottery tickets so often.

Did it also actually kind of apply to dating?

...Yes.

But you weren’t going to tell them that. Not right now, at least.

Or... ever. Miles and Tristan were the type of people to subtly gloat for far too long about being right, and you’d already agreed with them about one thing tonight. That was your limit!

Truly, though, you had come here tonight to tell Miles (and, consequently, Tristan) about your situation and get his advice on what you should do; there had to have been a part of you which had known he would tell you that you were being ridiculous. You had been friends with him for far too long to think he would’ve said anything else.

So... really... deep down... you had come over here for reassurance more than anything. All the thinking you’d done during the first half of your meal had been thinking you would’ve done eventually; Miles (and Tristan) had just sped the process along.

But that’s what friends are for, right? Helping you come to a conclusion you had been going to come to all along -- just more quickly.

That and marrying men who can cook the most delicious pasta sauce you’d ever had in your entire life.

You decided to wait until the next day to call Chanwoo. Not because you were too nervous or because you had chickened out about five times after leaving Miles and Tristan’s house last night...

No. Not at all!

It was only because you didn’t want to seem too desperate!

Because you weren’t!

Desperate, that is. You weren’t desperate. But you also weren’t too nervous! And you also hadn’t chickened out about five times after leaving Miles and Tristan’s house last night!

...Anyway.

You had just finished your work day and, not only that, but you had just finished your work week.

There was almost nothing better than the feeling you got when shutting down your computer on Friday afternoon. ...Which may have been yet another reason why you’d waited to call Chanwoo. The euphoria of the upcoming weekend would do wonders to balance out your nerves.

Not that you had a lot! You weren’t too nervous, remember?! Definitely not!

Okay, you just had to get your phone out and call him right now, or you were actually going to chicken out.

So, after closing your laptop, you grabbed your phone off the desk, scrolled through your contacts to find Chanwoo’s name, and... you called him.

After three rings, you heard a soft click and then a somewhat hesitant “...Hello?”

You were coming to understand that Chanwoo was shy, and somehow, that made him even more adorable.

“Hi,” you replied with a small grin. “It’s Y/N.”

“Oh, hey,” he greeted back, sounding a lot more confident (and a little bit relieved). “How are you?”

“I’m doing all right, what about yourself?” you asked as you began to slowly spin around in your desk chair.

“This week, I’m glad it’s Friday.”

“This week?”

“We’re open on Saturday, so sometimes I have to work. But not tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you replied with a soft chuckle. “Well, good. I’m glad you get two days off in a row. After fixing my unit yesterday, I bet you’re exhausted.”

“Very,” he answered in a serious tone that made you chuckle again. And then he took in a sharp breath, and you could tell he was about to say something. Or maybe... ask something. “Listen, I -- I was wondering...”

You raised your eyebrows, pausing your slow spin and waiting for him to continue.

“I was wondering if... you’d wanna, like... hang out?”

“Yeah, sure,” you replied without missing a beat. “We talked about lunch yesterday before you left, I think?”

Those few minutes were still kind of a blur, to be honest...

“Really?” The hopeful tone in his voice made your heart glow.

“Really,” you smiled. “I’m free tomorrow if you are.”

“Y--yes,” he stammered slightly. And, again, it was so freaking adorable. “Yes, definitely. I’ll... I’ll, uh, text you? When I think of something to do?”

You were going to suggest coming up with something right now -- together -- but the guy sounded even more nervous than he had when he’d answered, so you decided to cut him some slack.

“That sounds perfect,” you nodded.

When you hung up just a few moments later, you realized your smile hadn’t fallen for at least a full minute. And it still hadn’t after getting off the phone with him.

...You also realized you hadn’t thought about the age difference. Not even once. Not even for a millisecond.

This was good.

Part 4

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crazycephalopoda · 3 years

Text

Grief

My father died February 11th, 2021. That, in and of itself, is a weird sentence for me to write. To acknowledge. To me, the reality of this situation that I find myself in has not quite sunk in. I feel it in waves, rocking me like a boat beating against a storm. There are times when the boat has a leak and I scramble on deck to patch it together, desperately holding my hands over the holes while water rushes in. There are times where other boats come near to try and salvage my wreckage, but the captain goes down with their own ship and whatnot. I have always been one for bad metaphors. Amidst all of this, there are times of calm and quiet waters as well, where the ocean seems endless and empty. My father is dead. He is gone. He will not come back.

I check my Facebook messenger and look at his icon to see if he is there or not. He is not. He will not be ever again. I feel a lump forming in my throat. I scroll through the messages we have shared for the past several years and question every conversation. Did I contact him enough? Why didn’t I respond to that one message he sent? Was I too short with him? Did he know that I loved him? I look back and analyze every photo he was in. Why did I make that face? Why didn’t I take more photos with him? Did he know that I loved him? Why didn’t I show that I loved him more? Why didn’t I? Why didn’t I? Why didn’t I?

Attempting to live my life normally is a joke, and a bad one at that. Everything reminds me of him and the memories we made while growing up. I had malt o meal for breakfast. I cried. He loved malt o meal, with a large amount of sugar and a small amount of milk. Just enough that it was “liquid but not runny” like he said. I remember just two weeks ago when he had eaten only one bite of malt o meal and turned it away due to being nauseous. I thoughtlessly plopped the spoon in my mouth. We all laughed at the realization that he had just had chemo and we were not supposed to swap bodily fluids due to the poisonous chemicals. It was not funny. It was. God, I hate malt o meal. Why did he like this stuff?

--------------------------------------------------------

When my eyes are closed, I see the same scenes playing out in my head that have resided there for the past several weeks. They plague my sleep and leave me restless. He had always had a cheery and rounded face, but those final weeks his eyes sunk in between mountains of cheekbones and gaunt skin. His mouth hangs open like he cannot get enough oxygen for all the air in the room. Maybe he wants to speak. But he doesn’t. He is silent at the end, except when in pain. His eyes are also open, halfway and drooping. His eyes are open, and he is searching but he is not seeing me. At one point, when he could still speak, he mutters about bugs crawling on the walls and a girl on the ceiling. We joke about how scary that sounds to make it less uncomfortable. Could he see us there, beside him?

Curly hair was his best feature, he always said. People from all over complimented him on his natural hair all the time. We had a hairdresser once who fawned over it. He acted embarrassed but I think he liked the attention. Those same locks of hair now lay disheveled and unkempt around him like a halo. My mother sprays them with water and tries to keep them clean. I was glad, at least, the one chemo treatment had not stolen that from him. We cut a lock of hair to keep. It is the only thing of his person that will not face or be burned when he is cremated. What would he think of that?

My mother and I are caregiver to him, and we drain fluid from his chest as it builds up to an unbearable amount. At first it is an alien procedure to me, with a series of steps and protocols and cleaning routines. Put on two sets of gloves, touching only the wrist. Clean the cap with an alcohol swab. Make sure the clamp is fastened before you attach the bag below. Don’t drain too much or his blood pressure will drop, and you will kill him even faster than the cancer. After a few times, it is normal and just another thing we do to help him. Towards the end, it is tinged red. So is his urine. So is everything else. He stirs at one point in his confusion and tells me “I’ve leaked, I see red everywhere”. There was none, he was hallucinating. At least that time. Is he in pain?

Our fingers intertwine periodically when I sit beside him. When he was still conscious, he would occasionally reach out for whoever was closest. This was the smallest of comforts we could offer him. He always liked to sleep with his arms above his head, but the atrophied muscles would not allow this for him. We moved him into position like a broken marionette throughout the day. His hands are placed on his chest after he passed. They were so yellow, cold, and frail. There was no strength left in his ragged fingers. I held one of his hands in mine and I took a photo. The yellow skin glares at me like the sun and I squint, suddenly nauseous. I change the photo to black and white. As I stare at that photo now, it seems morbid to me but at the time gave me something to keep of him. What will it be like to never touch him again?

The sounds amplify the hell I experience. After his first round of chemo, he was awake and aware of us for two days. During that time, we made mostly small talk. He was quiet and introspective. At one point, I sat across from him and worked on readings assigned from my graduate school classes. He broke the silence to say he was proud of me. I told him that I was sad he would not see me graduate. He was the reason, after all, I had pursued this path. This is the only time I saw him cry in front of me. We held each other and I listened to his heartbeat in his chest while he told me that regardless of his death, he would be there for me. I realize now that I never asked him things like what his favorite color was, which tv shows he liked now, what hobbies he wished he had done when he had the time. As he is in and out of sleep, my mother and sister tell him “it’s okay, you don’t have to fight, let go”. I cannot speak these words. I do not want to. On his last day, I had exhausted myself to the point I needed to rest. My head had barely hit the pillow before I hear a sound across the vast distance of the house that raised the hairs on my arm. It’s someone in pain. I rush back to his bedside as his head turns this way and that. His mouth now opens only to say “help” in a strangled, garbled voice. He is soothed with morphine until his whimpering subsides. That was the last thing he spoke to us. I never really said “goodbye” to him. Was there more I should have said?

For weeks I sat beside his bed at night and watched over him while the hum of his breathing machine aligned with the nervous fluttering of my heart. His gasping breaths... In for a few seconds, quickly out, then held for an eternity, then in again. Every pause between his breathing caused me to hold my air in my throat. Every pause could have been the last one, but it wasn’t. Until it was. My mother calls out to us, after he expressed pain, and we gather around his bedside. My sister, my mother, my grandmother, and me. My mother holds his hands and weeps. His breathing is different, not the beat I have grown accustomed to. It is quick, jagged, and quiet. At some point, it stops. There is an eerie silence, followed by the sounds a body releases shortly after death. It startles me, and an undeniable signal of the horrible event that has just unfolded in front of us. I can’t believe it. I reach over to his throat to feel a pulse. There isn’t one. I dry heave into the trash can nearby before I break the silence with a loud scream. As I browse Facebook now, I wonder how I can hear him again. Are there videos of him speaking? Why didn’t I record any videos of him speaking? Is his voicemail still on his phone? I am scared to call it. Why am I scared to call it?

--------------------------------------------------------

Reliving these events, the weight now completely crushes my chest. It caves in my ribcage, plows through my heart, and drops me somewhere against the cold of the floor below. I am paralyzed in this position, barely breathing. I am scared. If I am too loud, if I cry, if I talk, I am acknowledging this new reality I am forced to live in. I don’t want to live it. I don’t want to be a part of it. I reject this world, body and soul. I am scared. Frantically, my mind races to those who are still present. I have not spent enough time with them. I have not said all the things I wanted, asked them what their favorite color is, or recorded enough photos and videos. When will I lose someone else? How will I lose them? I am scared. My breath begins to catch in my chest, and I feel the room shrink around me. I will never hear him again. I will never see him again. I will never touch him again. I will never play Fallout (which he loved) with him or watch Alien Covenant (which he hated) with him again. I will never be able to fall into his arms and cry about something stressing me out again. I will never hear him tell me he is proud of me again. I will never see him smile after he tells a bad joke again. My father is dead. How do I grieve this loss?

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dat-fandom-losertown · 4 years

Text

The Drift Between Us

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Chapter 10: Adjustment Period

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Hank Anderson x Connor and Gavin Reed x RK900 (Ritch)

Pacific Rim AU

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 9,149

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <> Masterlist <> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Ritch awkwardly stands in front of Gavin’s door– and his too, at least for for now– with both of his duffle bags set on either side of him. Either Gavin isn’t letting him inside out of spite, which is completely plausible, or he’s not inside because he’s staying at lunch later than usual. Either way, he’s hoping Gavin opens the door before lunch officially ends. He’s not willing to leave his bags out in the hallway just to go get food and he’s getting pretty hungry after this morning’s fight and nerves.

He looks down at the only watch he owns– a fancy one meant to be worn with suits during formal or semi-formal events– which is now on his wrist instead of put away like usual. There’s 20 minutes before lunch ends. Even if he left now, he’d have to eat faster than he’s used to if he wants to finish it before people are kicked out for cleaning purposes. Oh well, he’s missed more meals than he cares to count during his time with Amanda, and he’s definitely gone longer than this without food before. He’ll just eat dinner a bit earlier than usual to keep the hunger away.

“Dick?”

Ritch turns to Gavin and automatically corrects, “Ritchie, not Richard.”

“Yea yea, whatever,” Gavin says, rolling his eyes and waving his hand in dismissal. “What the fuck are you doing just hanging around by my door like a stray cat or something?”

“I was never given the code to the room.”

“And you couldn’t’ve waited in your own room because...?” Gavin stops right in front of him, defiance in his eyes. Ritch is too mentally exhausted to deal with that right now.

“Because technically starting this morning, this is my own room, unfortunately. Did you at least pick up any unmentionables?”

Gavin barks out an unfriendly laugh and turns to the keypad. Ritch commits the code 4629 to memory, having a feeling that Gavin won’t actually give him the code just to make his life harder. Just because he’s able to break into bunkers doesn’t mean he wants to more than what’s absolutely necessary.

“I told you I don’t keep that kind of shit in my room.” He opens the bunker door and lets them both inside before continuing. “Also, why the hell do you call it that?”

“What do you mean?” Ritch asks as he finds a clear space on the floor to set his bags.

“‘Unmentionables’. That makes it sound like you’re some kind of prude, or some good little boy who went to catholic school, I dunno. More likely a nun with that baby face and mean stare.”

Ritch sighs and grumbles, “Where should I put my stuff.”

He just wants to get out of here and head down to the training room to help out a few of the struggling students. He’s just too mentally exhausted after all that’s happened today to properly banter with Gavin right now, and he can tell that bantering is all that Gavin wants at the moment.

Gavin’s face falls for a split second, but he’s back to his aggressive self before Ritch can even comprehend what it could mean.

“Left side of everything– left side of the shelves, left drawers, left closet– and the bottom bunk.” Gavin glares at him with a challenge in his eyes. Ritch doesn’t fall for it because he has no need to argue. That’s the space he took up in his and Connor’s room, so there’s no issue.

“Perfect.” he says sharply, “Thanks.”

He sets his bags down in the middle of the room in preparation to unpack. He gets his studying books (will he even need these anymore?) and puts them on the empty side of the shelf above the metal desk, then pulls out his personal books to put on the shelf above the last.

Most are mainly about the science of how jaegers can safely transfer memories from one person to another without messing either person up, but some are just basic psychology books. The way people think and handle things have fascinated him ever since he first realized how different he and Connor are despite having always spent almost every waking moment with each other, and thus being in the same situations.

Part of him hopes that Connor will do well on his own for the foreseeable future, but another part worries that there will be some kind of issue that could have been prevented if Ritch was there to stop it. Yet another part secretly hopes Connor gets used to being alone quickly so he isn’t as dependent on other people. He has the skills and brains to make it on his own, he just needs to use them instead of panicking or shutting down all the time. Hand-holding and direct interfering has proven less than effective, so maybe a hands off approach will help Connor realize his potential.

“Alright, ground rules,” Gavin suddenly snaps as Ritch finishes putting the last of his books up. “First off, do not keep me up at night or you’ll regret it the next morning. And don’t wake me up early unless it’s an emergency either! Secondly, I get the first shower because the hot water runs out quickly here for some reason and I will make your day hell if I have to take a fucking cold shower. Thirdly, don’t touch my stuff. I don’t fucking care if you’re an OCD freak or something and I’ve left a mess, do. Not. Touch them, or I will break your hand. Got it?”

Ritch nods simply. “As long as you don’t touch my stuff either, then it’s understood. Also, you don’t have to worry about me taking any hot water. I take my showers in the evening, and I prefer them tepid rather than hot.”

Ritch hears the strange offended and concerned sound Gavin makes and looks up from digging his two jaeger figurines out of his bags. He doesn’t say anything, opting to silently raise an eyebrow at the pilot when he doesn’t immediately start talking like he expected. It works.

“Why the fuck do you take cold showers? Have you never felt the glory that is a steaming hot shower before? ‘Cause you told me you were kind of sheltered earlier, but that’s just sad.” Gavin finally asks with what Ritch would call a sarcastic frown.

He looks back down to his bag in an attempt to hide the pained expression he’s undoubtedly making. He doesn’t like reminders of that unfortunate night– dream. Nightmare. Whatever his brain decides that particular event was at any given moment.

“It’s not cold, just tepid. You have your reasons for hating cold water, I have my reasons for hating hot.”

“What the fuck do you know?” Gavin abruptly snarls, sounding every bit like he’s willing to kill Ritch or someone else.

The tone snaps Ritch to attention, but he catches himself and freezes when he take’s in Gavin’s stance. He’s tense in a way that’s more defensive rather than his usual offensive position, and his face reveals equal betrayal and pain as rage. It completely catches Ritch off guard, which explains why he says what he does without trying to hide anything for the first time in a very long while.

“Why do you get to ask me why I hate hot showers when you want to bite my head off for just saying that you have random reasons for hating cold water. Why should I care why you like hot showers when I’m the outlier in this situation, not you?”

Gavin doesn’t respond, he just keeps glaring at him as if that will make him confess knowing something he doesn’t.

Does he have a particularly bad memory/dream/nightmare like Connor and I do? What am I thinking, of course he does. He’s an official jaeger pilot; he likely has plenty of bad memories and experiences to choose from, Ritch thinks, making a note to himself to not bring up cold water or temperatures around Gavin anymore.

Gavin must have finally come to some kind of conclusion, because he takes a deep breath and refocuses on the jaeger model that’s still in Ritch’s hands.

“I thought I told you to leave your robot porn back in your bunker?” he snaps. At least he sounds less like he’s actually going to murder Ritch any moment now.

“Sorry to disappoint, but just because you undoubtedly have explicit content hiding somewhere in here doesn’t mean I have any. Why are you so obsessed on this topic, anyhow?” he says smoothly as he gets up and positions his little models on the shelf. Are the jaeger figurines actually bothering him and he’s using this to somewhat cover it up, or is this another layer of teasing?

People can be incredibly confusing. Especially if their name is Gavin Reed.

“I’m not obsessed with this topic. I’m just noticing that you’re obsessed with jaegers.” Gavin somehow makes climbing onto the top bunk look as lazy as plopping down onto the bottom bunk would. “So I’m just making sure you aren’t gonna be doing anything weird when we’re gonna be forced to drift together later on. I ain’t partnering with a fuckin’ creep.”

“Well, nor will I.” Ritch rolls his eyes as he turns to fully face Gavin. “Actually, because I want a topic change, here are my own ground rules.”

“Uh-uh! You don’t get to–”

“Rule one!” Ritch declares over him, “As I said before, you don’t get to touch my stuff either. I am very particular about where everything goes, and I am a very private person. Rule two, do not wake me up in the morning unless it is an emergency. I have alarms set on my phone– that I place under my pillow so only I can hear it.” he adds when Gavin opens his mouth to retort, “I will always be on time to wherever I or we need to be, so please do not mess with me while I’m sleeping.”

Gavin, surprisingly, just shrugs and says, “Fair enough.” It gives Ritch enough confidence to continue.

“Rule three–”

“There’s fuckin’ more!?–”

“–and the last one I can think of for now. I am very introverted. Sometimes I will want to be left alone just because I am not used to having to constantly entertain someone, so try to not pester me 24/7. Although, considering your first rule, I think we can come to an agreement there as well.”

Gavin doesn’t say anything for a solid minute, just scowling at Ritch from the top bunk. Ritch doesn’t move or break eye contact either. He’s played this game many times with Amanda over the years; breaking now would only be admitting defeat and showing that he isn’t as tough and confident as he is. Breaking eye contact and/or relaxing his tall, solid stance is something Connor would do, and while that seems to work for his twin a lot of the time, Ritch is most definitely not that type of person. He gets his way through confidence and logic rather than constant encouragement and compromise.

“Fine.” Gavin barks. “We have a fuckin’ deal. And apparently the first part of the damned ‘personal schedules’ we’re gonna have to make.”

That throws Ritch off track. “Personal schedules?”

Gavin snorts. “Yea. It’s all bullshit, but all new partners have to do it. I’ve had to do one, like, three or four times now. It’s boring and annoying as hell.” He flops back down on his bed, so Ritch grabs his bag of clothes and starts unpacking them while Gavin continues, “We’ll write down that before breakfast and anything past nine or so are solitary times for our sanity. God, fuck all of this. Seriously.”

“Will therapy appointments and trainee assisting have to go on these personal schedules? And are we turning these in to someone, or are these for private use?” Ritch asks as he puts his small pile of shirts in the locker-closet.

“Yes to your first question. And people use these schedules to make bonding time or scheduled training or some shit, so we gotta turn them in.” Ritch doesn’t need to turn to know he’s probably doing his ever-so-famous scowl and glare. This entire thing is already becoming exhausting and they haven’t even started yet.

The next several minutes are thankfully spent in blissful silence. Ritch isn’t sure what Gavin is hiding up on his top bunk, but he never came down for paper or a writing utensil before presumably starting the schedule, so he must have things stashed up there like Connor stashes his own things. If he’s that serious about his own privacy, then he’ll hopefully take Ritch’s request for privacy more seriously than he originally thought.

“Okay, so I got my part of this fuckery down. You just slap on your schedule on this blank paper, we’ll hand this over. They’ll do a personality thing within the next few days, and then we’ll be back on our own separate ways.”

�� That makes Ritch perk up from shoving his bags under the bed.

“Why would they separate us so quickly?” he asks as he watches Gavin gracefully jump off his top bunk, dropping two pieces of paper on the bottom bunk before striding to the door.

“Because I’m Gavin mother-fuckin’ Reed, retch.” He opens the door and steps through, but he pauses long enough to grin smugly and add, “No one lasts long with me.”

He shuts the door behind himself with a clang as if to emphasize his point. It leaves Ritch alone with the silence. He picks up the papers and sees that it’s much simpler than he thought. It’s just a normal chart that has 7 columns for each day of the week. Gavin wrote down his activities next to a rough time estimate of when the various things normally get done.

Gavin’s schedule has several chunks of time dedicated to patrolling halls that are all listed as “duty” rather than “free time”. Ritch is surprised he wasn’t just roaming the halls with the sole purpose of finding a way to cause trouble, but it makes more sense how he always manages to randomly run into people and trouble and not get reported or something if that’s his job. He wonders if that would still be Gavin’s job if he became a full-time pilot rather than a back-up one that no one really likes.

“No one lasts long with me” he said? Well, he hasn’t met Ritch when he’s determined to beat a challenge, and “Gavin mother-fuckin’ Reed” just issued one whether he meant to or not. Ritch smirks to himself as he fills out his own rather empty personal schedule, making a vow to himself to stick around the pilot like a stubborn mold just to spite him.

Maybe this will be slightly more fun than he thought, after all. Only time will tell how exhausting it will be in the long run, though.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Ritch heads to the training room after finishing up his schedule and leaving it on the desk for Gavin to see. He would have dropped it off himself, but Gavin never said where it needed to go during his dramatic exit, so he’ll just let him do it. It’ll be step one in training Gavin; if he doesn’t tell Ritch all of the information, then he’ll have no help finishing what needs to be done. Ritch just hopes that this is a lesson that’s learned quickly and easily because he doesn’t actually like the thought of passing work on to Gavin just because of lack of communication and information.

He’s in the middle of weighing the pros and cons of finding Tina Chen and asking what things he should look out for or work on with Gavin when he hears North arguing about something down the hall. He has no clue what’s being said, but she must be complaining to someone else since she occasionally pauses before starting back up again. He finally gets an idea once he gets close to the training room’s entrance.

“How am I supposed to pilot a jaeger without–”

“You find someone new, just like Ritch and Connor are trying to.” Markus says, his tone implying that that was far from the first time he’s said that.

“Technically, Ritch was given another partner this morning.” Ritch forces himself into the conversation, “Now, what is this about?”

He uses a second to take in their surroundings to make sure they aren’t causing a scene but has to do a double-take. It usually takes more than expected to get him confused and shocked, but finding the room half-empty, despite it being the middle of a training session, sure did the trick.

His emotions must be apparent on his face for once because Simon explains, “The purge happened this morning.”

Ritch focuses his attention on Simon and ignores North as she starts loudly complaining again. Honestly, does she not understand that throwing a hissy fit won’t change anything?

“The purge?” he asks when neither Markus or Simon elaborate.

“Yea,” Markus nods tiredly, “Luther and Chloe kept several people behind after we left for lunch today, and Josh told us it was so they could let them go in relative privacy.”

“Ritchie!–”

“Ritch.” he corrects North sternly, but she ignores him.

“You’re like the teacher’s pet, right?” She continues before he can give his input, “You gotta convince Luther that he’s making a mistake–”

“But he isn’t.” he cuts in. “Josh is too much of a pacifist to make it as a jaeger pilot. Connor and I saw that on the very first day of training. But I think he’d be a fairly good fit for the science department, don’t you think?” He adds when North starts going red with whatever petulant emotion she’s feeling right now.

Simon sounds genuinely intrigued when asking, “Science department?”

“Well, he loves learning about things, and he’s quite smart and quick to pick up on things if the rate he was learning at during the study time of the day is normally how he is.” Markus and Simon nod, North continues pouting. “And he made friends with several people in the science department already, unless those people who brought the alcohol for that party thing were being bribed somehow.”

North harrumphs. “I still need a partner, and there isn’t anyone left I like.”

“Sometimes partnering with someone means you don’t like them at first.” Ritch feels like he’s talking to a child. It certainly shows that she’s always been the youngest of the group. “You just have to adapt and find someone you’re compatible with.” Even as he says this, Ritch doubts she’d be compatible with anyone else in the room. She’s just a little too… herself.

“You literally can’t be compatible with someone if you don’t like them.” North crosses her arms.

“Not necessarily.”

“Yes! Absolutely necessarily!–”

“No,” Ritch scolds her like a child or a pet, “You don’t. If that were the case, I wouldn’t have been told to pair up with Gavin Reed after we got caught fighting in the hallway.”

With how wide the trio’s eyes get, Ritch is almost worried their eyeballs will fall right out of their sockets.

“You seriously got a new partner?!” North exclaims just as Markus asks “You with Gavin Reed?”

The combination of the two end up turning people’s heads, and Simon is doing nothing to de-escalate things like he would normally try to– he seems too in shock to do much else beyond gaping at him– so Ritch tries his best to explain calmly and quietly. He knows it’s more likely to rile them up, but this group has surprised him many times before. He’s hoping they surprise him again because he really doesn’t want to be known as “the trainee stuck with Gavin Reed” by everyone, especially since Gavin is very obviously not the kind of person who like~ to have a lot of attention on him. He just seems like a chaotic mess and chaotic messes usually get attention, whether it’s wanted or not.

“This morning, Gavin and I were doing something, but we ended up… disagreeing is a good way of putting it, and it escalated into an actual fight. Marshal Fowler apparently saw it on security cameras and personally came to pick us up and tell us that our punishment is becoming partners.”

The three gape at him for a couple of seconds before Markus asks, “They can do that? They partnered you up with someone you hate?”

Ritch scans the room again before answering, just to make sure no one is really eavesdropping anymore. Thankfully, people have mostly turned back to whatever they were doing or talking about before. Ritch nods to where the punching bags are and starts walking towards them so the four of them aren’t right in the entryway.

“To be fair, we do have an unusual level of compatibility when it comes to combat, and I don’t actually hate him.” He sits down on the ground and watches North as she starts wrapping her hands. “I’d almost say that I don’t particularly dislike Gavin, since I tend to disregard any rumors I hear about him. So far only a couple have been true; his love for fighting and being annoying and his habit of roaming around. And there are a lot of people who do those same things.”

Simon finally snaps out of his shocked silence. “Wait, what? Haven’t you complained about him picking on you at lunch a couple of times?” Markus nods in agreement.

Ritch shakes his head, slightly curious and confused. “No, I wasn’t complaining, exactly. It was just different. I poke at him as much as he pokes at me– or as I think he’s called it before– I give as good as I get.”

North sputters out a laugh that causes Simon and Markus to glare, but Ritch doesn’t understand.

“Just ignore her,” Markus says before Ritch can ask, “She’s always got her mind in the gutter.”

Ritch tilts his head curiously. “That’s an inappropriate phrase?”

Simon looks at him kindly. He’s definitely been the one who helps him the most when it comes to not understanding things, and he appreciates it.

“It can be for certain people in certain situations. There’s nothing wrong with the way you used it and it makes perfect sense. North is just being an idiot child right now without Josh to balance her out.”

Ritch nods in acknowledgement and understanding, making a mental note of what he’s learned about the phrase like he normally does with new slang. Maybe Connor had the right idea after all; a journal could be good for remembering everything. The human mind can only do and hold so much, after all.

“So,” Markus starts, “What does being partners with Gavin Reed entail, then?”

“So far just alone time in the mornings and nighttime for our sanity. He said we’ll probably be assigned daily bonding or training exercises because we both have large chunks of the day where we don’t do much.”

North pauses her punching long enough to ask, “So, what are some juicy details?”

“What do you mean?” Ritch does not like where this is going.

“Like, what does his room look like? What kind of things does he have for fun.”

If this is what North is always like without Josh, she won’t last much longer than a week. He just shakes his head with a sigh.

“That is private information, and I wouldn’t know anyway. Unlike some people,” he sends her a pointed glare, "I actually respect people’s privacy, and he’ll respect mine.”

“Are you sure about that?” she insists. “You won’t even peek at his stuff when he looks through yours?”

“If he does– and I don’t think he will,” he corrects irritably while getting up, “why would I look through his things when it’d be easier and less uncomfortable for me to just ask to be removed from the room on an account of purposeful neglection of privacy.” He turns and starts walking away.

“Ohhh, you’re leaving? It’s just a coincidence that you’re leaving while on this topic? You sure you’re not going to go check right now?”

Ritch spins to face her so she can get the full extent of his unimpressed glare. It usually works on Connor, and while it seems ineffective on North, she definitely isn’t immune. If she was, he doesn’t know what he’d do to actually get her attention and let her know that he is absolutely done with her for the time being. He almost hopes she gets sent home or told off by Luther as some kind of wake up call for being a complete child right now.

“I’m leaving because you’re being a nosey, whiny asshole because the partner you were barely compatible with was saved from having his mental health take a huge decline from the violence that a jaeger pilot’s life is filled with.” He sharply turns back towards the entryway of the training room. “Not everything is about you, and not everyone has the same views or values as you. That is what you need to learn before you’re even close to ready for finding a new partner, because I promise you that the people in here won’t be nearly as accommodating as Josh was.”

He hears no arguments as he walks out of the room, so he’ll take the liberty to assume that Simon and Markus are silently agreeing with him, and that North is going to check herself at least for today, if not for the next several days. He’s unfortunately not naive enough to think it will last to the end of the week, though.

Just as he steps out of the room, he almost physically runs into Gavin, who’s standing right out of sight from the people inside. Instead of stopping there and revealing Gavin’s poor hiding place, he casually walks past and stops when he, too, is out of sight from the room of trainees. Gavin watches him silently as he does this, then surprises him by not saying anything when Ritch leans against the wall right next to him. That normally gets Gavin at least glaring at him to leave his space, like he did this morning.

“You know,” he murmurs, not wanting the trainees to hear him, “you could at least let people know that your job is to patrol the area. Less people would think you’re just looking for trouble all the time.”

Gavin’s face remains relatively blank as he deadpans, “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Less fun, true, but also less reports on Gavin Reed trying to start trouble, which means less things added to your apparently huge disciplinary folder? Wouldn’t that be worth it?”

Gavin scoffs, then goes quiet. Ritch starts worrying. So far, he’s learned that Gavin isn’t one to stay quiet for long, but Ritch is also the very last person who should do anything relating to emotions. He’s surprised when Gavin starts explaining himself– Gavin Reed from the countless rumors he hears doesn’t like explaining himself to anyone but the marshal.

“The official patrolling thing is a brand new excuse for me wandering around all day, but Luther’s always told me when he’s gonna start telling the failed trainees to go home so I can hover around and control any potential fights between punks who are upset that their partners and friends had to leave.” He turns to Ritch with a contemplative look on his face. “You ever think of picking up patrolling after people finally wake up and realize that we’re not gonna work as a pair?”

“No, because I’d work better with jaegers than with the people. You know I’m not good with people or their emotions, or did you forget that I’m two steps away from being a robot?” he teases. He turns to leave then, not knowing what’s wrong with Gavin right now, but not wanting to accidentally push buttons.

He stops and turns, however, when the pilot makes some kind of choked noise.

Gavin huffs and glares at the far wall. “So why didn’t you tell her what my room is like, Mr. ‘this is now technically my room too’? It’s not like there was anything weird in there.”

“If you heard that, then you heard my reasoning. Besides, with how much you’ve stalked me over the past couple of weeks, you should know by now that I hate drama and gossip.”

Ritch turns and walks away, not having a real plan of where he’s going. If he knew where to turn in their personal schedules, he’d probably go do that, but he’s already far enough away that he can’t just ask Gavin over his shoulder without alerting everyone inside, and he’s not willing to turn and walk back to him just to ask a question as simple as that. One of them will take care of it later.

He suddenly remembers Josh, how he’s the one who was told he wasn’t fit for piloting a jaeger. Even though Josh has told him multiple times that he was only doing it for North, that he wanted to be a teacher or something in the learning or education field, it probably still hits that he’s been let go rather than quitting on his own like he was contemplating doing. Although, at least this way North’s petty anger will be aimed at people she can’t touch and not at someone she can seriously damage emotionally, if not physically.

With those thoughts in mind, he heads to Josh’s bunker to talk to him about maybe joining the science department, even if it’s just as an apprentice or intern or something. He figures with the multiple friends he has there and his obvious interest in the subject that it should be obvious, but it’s been proven time and time again that human brains just aren’t reliable. Maybe North will be less irritated and Markus and Simon won’t be quite as forlorn if he’s still nearby.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Gavin doesn’t know how to feel about Ritch anymore.

At first, he was just some challenge, a robot he wanted to push and break until he showed some kind of reaction. Then the robot starts pushing and poking back, and they get into a surprisingly enjoyable rhythm. Then he’s suddenly perfectly fine with breaking the rules, even though that seems like it’d go against what Gavin knows of his personality. Then come to find out that he can fight damn well too. Then he’s only mother-fucking 23 years old and he honestly can’t tell if he was exaggerating about the “training everyday since 11 years old” thing or not.

Gavin’s used to a neglectful household, between his emotionally absent father and his mother who was so stressed she eventually just upped and left, then his step-mother who was more interested in the money and protection that his father’s job and location offered than the family. He grew up being the older brother who went to work right out of high school despite his father’s wealth because his parents seemed to forget that he and his brother even existed until they did something wrong.

But training for something as serious and violent as jaeger piloting since 11? As much as Gavin would like to think that it was mostly play until tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum turned 18, Ritch’s level of skill and strength and just the way he carries himself can’t be learned and formed in just four or five years of adulthood. That, and Anderson wouldn’t voluntarily keep Connor around him if that twin was like the other trainees, so it’s not just Ritch.

It also has come to his attention earlier that the reason why “Stern” sounded so familiar was because of the ever-so-famous Amanda Stern. Gavin doesn’t know much about her, but he does know that she’d probably be determined and crazy enough to adopt children in order to create perfect soldiers. She practically did it with Anderson from what he heard from the man before he became a low-life. Plucked him off the streets at the ripe age of 17, if he remembers correctly.

Gavin isn’t going to get into that mess whatsoever, though. Ritch very obviously doesn’t see too many issues with how he was raised, and he certainly wasn’t sheltered to the point of living completely under a rock with how many references he’s able to make and understand without stuttering. So no, Gavin isn’t going to touch any of this with a ten foot pole, but he’s also curious of whether or not Ritch is just a really good actor, if he’s got some kind of stockholm syndrome, or if living with and being trained by Amanda fucking Stern instead of going to a public middle and high school wasn’t actually as bad as Gavin’s gut is trying to tell him it would be.

The problem is, Gavin’s gut has rarely been wrong. Having good gut feelings and instincts is kind of a part of the job as a jaeger pilot. He hasn’t met a successful pilot that didn’t have a good instinct they listened to.

He pushes himself off of the wall once it becomes obvious that none of the kids inside aren’t going to start a fight based on nothing but mutual anger for having partners and friends being let go. And isn’t that kind of weird, the fact he can easily call everyone in that room children when his partner is at least 3 years younger than the youngest person in there, but he also acts the least childish out of all of them. It almost makes Gavin curious of what kinds of things Ritch has seen and experienced to make him the way he is. What a fucking anamoly.

When Gavin just turned 23, he was signing up to be a jaeger pilot for the first of two times after getting kicked out of his shitty apartment. He was starting to look for another construction job since they were plenty, but his history of violence wasn’t doing him favors.

He still remembers the day he got a letter back saying they looked up surveillance videos of a few of the fights he’d picked once they got his second letter– probably because, as he now knows, people rarely try twice without sounding entitled and/or stupid– and decided that they’d take a chance on him, but to not get his hopes up. He remembers being overwhelmed in the best way possible when he and sweet, joyful Ty were finally added onto the “main pilots” list.

He also remembers the first time he tried to enter the drift with someone after Ty. He remembers staring at himself in the mirror after washing his face with an expression almost identical to the one Ritch had while processing the fact they could be compatible. He remembers the day he found a way to keep his memories and experiences away from the drift.

Gavin isn’t going to get nosey with this one, but it can’t hurt to stay observant. After all, he’s got a long history of winning fights against abusers of all sorts, and he doubts one old woman would be able to best him, even if it’s Amanda Stern.

He shakes his head to get rid of those types of thoughts and tries not to freak out about how protective they sounded even in his own head. He can’t exactly blame himself, though. Once a protective older brother, always a protective asshole who loves to start and finish other people’s fights. He’s done the same thing for Tina and her relatively new partner, so he’s not too terribly surprised to see that it’s starting to happen with the literal only other person he sees regularly. It doesn’t mean he has to like it, though.

He raises a hand to knock on Tina’s door and freezes. He doesn’t remember actually coming here and he doesn’t know why he’d want Tina, anyway, She can be insufferable with certain topics and this would certainly be one of them. He can already imagine her teasing about how she knew Ritch would be his new “boy toy” and hear her start making innuendos when he really, really doesn’t want to hear any of it today. Ty is too fresh in his mind, the fact that he can think his name instead of his “past partner” or just “him” proves it.

Besides, now that patrolling is his actual job around here, he probably shouldn’t start skipping out. He may be irresponsible sometimes, but he tries to not be a total jackass about it. Skipping patrol as soon as it becomes his actual job– as opposed to something that he did because he’s a nosey shit and it also kind of annoyed people– would be an absolute asshole thing to do. With that in mind, he backs away from the door and strolls away with the intention to roam around like he usually does. However, he only makes it 3 steps before he spots his own door, which somehow reminds him of the personal schedules he and Ritch have to come up with.

Gavin idly wonders if Ritch already finished his before setting off to wherever he was obviously itching to go. He certainly seems like the type to get things done immediately rather than putting them off, but he’s also surprised Gavin before in the past.

Before he even realizes it, Gavin’s opening his door and stepping inside. Right on the desk are two papers, one that he immediately knows is his own schedule. He strolls over and picks them both up, and takes them with him when he sees the “Signature of Completion” bullshit at the bottom. It stands out compared to the relative emptiness of the rest of the page. There are chunks of time dedicated to meals, and Ritch apparently likes going to help the rest of the trainees with physical training every morning, and has a note at the bottom noting a reserved time for “possible therapy, frequencies and assigned time unknown”. He must be therapist-hopping right now.

Gavin doesn’t feel bad at all snooping through the schedule. If the higher-ups around here are gonna try to force a partnership on them, then he’s gonna find this shit out anyway. Even if that weren’t the case, it’s not like he’d see anything here that he hasn’t experienced or witnessed before. Therapy is something that is mandated for quite a few people around here, and is voluntarily sought after by others. It’s not anything to be shy about, and Ritch obviously agrees considering one of the first things he asked about these damn schedules was whether or not he’d have to add the sessions in.

It’s an easy trip of carefully not thinking about anything and letting his mind be distracted by Ritch while not letting it focus too hard on him either. Well, maybe easy isn’t quite the word he’s looking for. It’s a simple walk without any interruptions, but complicated and kind of difficult to keep his head in check. He doesn’t even notice he’s in the office to drop off the schedules until a woman tries to take them out of his hands.

Noticing her nervous look, he just apologizes, hands her the papers, and walks away. He doesn’t even have the energy to try to come up with something he’d normally say and do. He just wants Ritch out of Ty’s space. He wants Ty out of his own mind. He wants Ty back, but knows that’s impossible.

He’d probably be over his old partner if they weren’t in the drift together when he was ripped out of the jaeger. He wouldn’t have felt most of the things he did. He may have even been able to say that it was always a possibility for any of them to die, and it was unfortunately him out of everyone else.

God fucking damn it. He’s gonna need to set up an emergency therapy appointment, isn’t he? God fuck it, Marshal Fowler should have probably talked to his therapist and whoever the fuck else before doing this. Gavin was actually starting to do better, if he does say so himself.

At least Ritch seems like the type of guy who will leave him the fuck alone and won’t mess with his shit. He even put the morning and nighttime alone-times on his own schedule even though Gavin was half joking. Not to mention Ritch is the first person since Tina who teases him back just as much as Gavin teases while still knowing when it’s time to cut that out and be serious.

Mother fucking fuck. He’s done thinking about this. He needs a distraction. Now.

Gavin heads to the gym, hoping to work out any nervous energy he suddenly has now that the melancholy seems to have passed. He’ll set up that appointment tomorrow after he’s had some sleep. Besides, he wants at least some information on what kind of roommate Ritch is before he goes off to start complaining to the girl who loves to gossip. Going in without a plan is exactly what’s going to get the two of them stuck together permanently. That is, if their “natural compatibility” doesn’t start fucking up any time soon instead.

It’s almost fucked up how this entire situation simultaneously feels like purgatory for being an asshole forever and a potential second chance. Whatever, Gavin’s just going to roll with it like he always does and hope things go back to normal soon enough.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Dinner finds Ritch sitting on the ground against the wall, feeling pitiful as he eats his very Americanized nachos.

He tried sitting with his Markus, Simon, Josh, and North for all of a couple minutes before North drove Josh away while he was trying to explain the plan he and Ritch made to get him into the science department. Markus then told North off, who started snapping at Ritch for whatever damned reason. At that point it was either force himself to walk away calmly or cuff her upside the head, which would have led to her starting a fight he would have finished in seconds at the cost of disciplinary action against him.

So he walked away, even if it took every ounce of his self-control to not grab her hand and sweep her feet out from under her when she tried to escalate things into a fight anyway.

She’s turning into a new, whiny version of Alex and Ritch will not put up with any of it. If she doesn’t quit within the next couple of days, he’s going to have to bring this to Luther’s attention, because, according to Simon and Markus, she does not get nearly this bad during training. He just wishes he didn’t have to. He considered her a friend before, but now he’s not so sure he could handle any more unpredictability in his life. He has enough of it already with Gavin, and even then, he at least doesn’t antagonize for the sake of it. If he’s anything like Ritch, then he gets some kind of emotional release out of being a relatively unpredictable asshole.

“What the hell are you doing here, vomit?”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

“I might ask the same question, book.”

“Book?” Gavin asks with palpable confusion.

“Vomit?” Ritch asks back almost mockingly. He figures Gavin’s most recent favorite nickname, Retch, went a little further and turned to vomit. “Look, if you want to sit, I’d suggest you do it. I’m not in the mood to play our usual games and, quite frankly, I’m hiding from someone.”

Gavin’s eyes widen in visible surprise, but he takes a step forward and drops down to the floor. “You? Hiding someone? Why would the ‘top of the class’–” he makes air quotes “–need to avoid someone?”

Ritch decides to be bluntfully honest. “To keep me from smacking them upside their whiny little head and getting me in trouble. Why would the man who’s known to love fights be hiding from someone?”

“I never said I was playing coward, ass.” Gavin huffs irritably.

“Then why aren’t you with Tina Chen like you always are?” he asks after finishing his bite of food.

There’s a minute that passes where neither of them say anything to each other, but the ambient sounds of the food court keep things from going silent. Ritch hears Gavin muttering to himself, but he easily blocks that out because Connor does the exact same thing. He sometimes wonders if it helps people like them process and retain information or if it’s just a habit. Ritch certainly can’t force himself to speak when not necessary, and Amanda hadn’t ever said anything about him muttering like she had with Connor.

“Tina Chen is a gossip at heart and loves making a big deal out of little things.”

Ritch huffs. “I dislike people like that.”

Ritch sees Gavin scowl and open his mouth to speak out of the corner of his eye. He never does say anything, though, he just closes his mouth and huffs in an irritable way.

Neither one of them spend very long eating, and neither one of them say a single thing for the rest of their dinner. Ritch stands up to put his stuff away first, but he spots Gavin finishing and getting up as he walks out of the food court area.

They say nothing to each other even though Gavin’s natural walking pace is a tad faster than Ritch’s, so they end up walking beside each other for a while. They don’t say anything while cooling down after dinner, and Ritch stays silent when Gavin calls his therapist on his radio thing and asks him for a “rant session” that evening. Gavin stays quiet and reads whatever book he has on his top bunk while Ritch gets himself together for his therapist trial.

Gavin isn’t there when he returns, and Ritch is somewhat thankful for it. He actually likes this therapist, especially compared to the first one he visited, so he managed to gather the courage by the end of the session to mention keeping a journal to remember things. She said that keeping notes is a great way to keep track of things in a new environment and vent about anything he doesn’t feel comfortable telling other people. That, and more than plenty of people keep notes just for the sake of having reminders of events and other things, so they’re not just used for studying or therapy.

Just a couple minutes after Ritch makes his charts on different people and a few lists of words and phrases and what they mean to most people, Gavin walks in. He immediately grabs some pajamas out of his locker with tense shoulders and jerky movements then goes inside the bathroom. Ritch decides to ignore as much as he can by reading a book that Josh recommended, since he may be leaving soon and will need it back. Gavin comes back out several minutes later, pauses to look around at who knows what, then settles his hands on his hips with a sharp sigh.

Ritch tears his eyes away from the surprisingly good fiction novel in order to glance at Gavin. The pilot must take that as acknowledgement enough because he starts speaking.

“So, my therapist had an idea I’d like to try, for once,” he declares.

Ritch raises an eyebrow. “I’ve heard you’re supposed to listen to your therapist’s advice.”

“Yeah, well, they’re not the fuckin’ know all be all of any of our lives, y’know?”

Ritch emphatically does not know– he doesn’t quite understand what that phrase means– but he nods along anyway.

“So anyway, I’m sure you’ve heard about how I used to have a partner.” Gavin sounds like he’s going to continue, but he doesn’t.

Ritch hesitantly shakes his head. “I haven’t, but it makes sense since you’re in a two-person room rather than a single-person back-up room.”

Ritch decides that he doesn’t need to know why said partner isn’t with him anymore. They either quit and left Gavin behind or they died, both of which are cases that need a lot more delicacy than Ritch has in order to handle and navigate without ruining what little truce they have right now.

Gavin’s face scrunches up in confusion for what seems like less than a moment before he smiles sarcastically and claps his hands together.

“Well then! Yes, I used to have a partner, and all of his stuff went where all of your shit is.” Gavin starts pacing. “And you see, I’ve always fucking hated all of my partners for valid fuckin’ reasons, right? And my therapist was always like, ‘you like who you like, and you can’t pilot with someone you hate’ yadda yadda yadda. So imagine my surprise when I come to him to complain about you, he stops me and tells me that I’m just afraid of replacing my old partner, right?” Gavin, once again, sounds like he’s just going to continue, but stops for whatever reason.

Ritch nods slowly once more. “That’s an understandable feeling to have,” he says in a carefully neutral tone.

“Yeah, sure, but it shook me up because that’s the first time he’s said something like this, right? So, turns out, my fucking therapist was on board with us pairing up and cleared it before we even knew it was our punishment. Like, what the fuck?”

Ritch has no clue what’s happening, but he figures that if this is what’s going to keep Gavin from trying to fight him and their superiors every step of the way of whatever is happening anymore, then he’ll do what he does second best and sit silently. It’s not like Gavin ranting at him is going to do any damage as far as he can tell, even Ritch doesn’t understand why he would ever want to come to him with these types of issues.

“So he’s goin’ on about his therapist thing that he’s paid to do, and he says that I’m gonna put up with your ass for a whole two weeks before we can request to split! All because he thinks our banter was a sign of some shit and our fighting styles are super compatible!”

“They are,” Ritch interjects cautiously. “Compatible, I mean. I was taught to be able to tell in the event that something happened to Connor and I had to find someone else to pilot with.”

Gavin blinks hard, then blinks a couple more times before shaking his head.

“Your– You know what? I don’t have time to deal with your shit right now.” he replies combatively, tensing up as if preparing for a fight. Ritch holds back a sigh.

“I… didn’t want to start anything? I was just listing facts. You mentioned that your therapist had an idea you wanted to try earlier? I assume it involves me– and I mean this in a kind way– or else you wouldn’t be venting to me, of all people.”

Gavin goes blank and blinks once more, then snaps his fingers with a, “That’s right! Listen, we’re gonna switch our stuff around.”

Ritch, as used to Connor’s random bullshit as he was, does not understand where the connection in any of this is. He just wants to read his book and get some good sleep before helping the angsty trainees tomorrow morning.

Gavin huffs. “Look, He said it’s like I’m finding reasons to hate people because they’re replacing my old partner, right?”

Oh. I think I understand now. I’m fairly sure I’ve read about this somewhere…

“But I’m not replacing them. I’m someone else entirely, so you want to switch our stuff around so it’s not like I’m taking over his old space and replacing them further, but more like you’re keeping his old place and his memories safe, then I’ll be in your place where you aren’t as emotionally attached? Is that about the idea of it?”

He meets Gavin’s wide eyes. This is probably the most genuine surprise and confusion he’s seen from him.

“Uh, yeah. Kinda. How did you?”

“I read psychology books in my spare time.” Ritch stands and looks away. If Gavin is going to offer something private information like that, then Ritch will return the favor. “People have always confused me, so I tried using psychology to learn about them more. Then I got more interested in how different kinds of people react in different ways when I realized how different Connor and I are from each other, despite being identical twins who grew up in the same conditions.”

“But your eyes are blue.” Gavin blurts. Ritch is about to turn that question down when Gavin waves his hands dismissively. “Y’know what? I don’t actually care. I just want to move our stuff around so maybe my brain’ll stop fuckin’ me over. It’s been less than one god damned day and I’m already sick and tired of this shit. Two fucking weeks…” Gavin adds under his breath, but Ritch still catches it.

Ritch nods in acknowledgement and moves to start taking things off the shelves. It may be a bit of an adjustment, getting used to his stuff being on the opposite side of where he’s used to reaching, but it shouldn’t be too bad.

Gavin quietly follows after, sliding his stuff over to the other side of the shelf rather than actually picking things up and moving them. The silence continues after that. They don’t say a word to each other while moving things around, and really that may be a testimony to how compatible they are. Ritch moves some of his stuff when he notices Gavin preparing to move some of his own things in that spot, and Gavin follows him over to a new area of the room when he finishes a spot.

Three mostly-silent hours later, the room has been readjusted and Ritch is clean and is climbing into bed to finally sleep. He’s out like a light just as he notices that Gavin is still on the top bunk even after everything else is switched. He’ll leave it alone; he really doesn’t want to have to climb up to the top bunk with injuries or during late nights, after all.

Ritch wakes up the next morning to a note on his pillow and can’t help but smirk a little. “You won’t catch me dead on the bottom bunk. Have fun listening to creaking, whacking your head, and being closer to the bugs and shit down there.” It’s good to know they’ll agree to disagree on which bunk is best, at least.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <> Masterlist <> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

A/N: Heyo! Sorry for the slow update, life irl got busy, and I’ve rewritten this chapter a couple of times. I don’t know why I feel like I can never get Gavin quite right? But hopefully that problem is solved once Ritch and Gavin get used to each other and fall into a groove I have planned for them Lol.

Thank you all for sticking around all this time, I really appreciate it! I don’t really have much else to say besides get ready for some Connor POV and a possible, short time skip next chapter. I hope you guys have a good day/night! 😄💕💖

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writingsilly · 4 years

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Underwater (ch. I)

Description: Your bad behaviour led you to stay the whole summer in your town of birth with your grandfather. The very first day, you went for a walk to the beach and had an encounter with a stranger that would change your whole life.

Pairing: Reader x Merman!Taehyung.

Genre: Angst, suspense, sci-fi.

Trigger warnings (!!!): Blood, swearing, angst.

Click here to read in AO3!

I: An Encounter

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When you arrived, the guilt of having left so easily without putting up a fight or some resistance hit you right away deep in your chest. Maybe because in your way there, you started to miss the big city and wondered why you hadn’t been smarter and just behaved properly, that way your father wouldn’t have felt the need to “straighten you up.” It was a shame that his idea of turning you into someone a little more affectionate and sympathetic was to tear you apart from your friends and the city it had been your home since you were sixteen years old.

At first, you fought the tingly feeling that had set in the pit of your stomach when you recognized the salty aroma in the air and the warm breeze. The pride that came with your father putting your suitcases on the floor and leaving you without giving you a second glance was way too strong to ignore it. You couldn’t pretend you were surprised or hurt by his actions, he was mad anyway and it wasn’t something uncommon coming from him. Ever since he decided that dealing with your grandmother’s death was less important that work, his feelings kinda vanished. He still cared about you, that wasn’t the problem, but he sometimes needed to be reminded that raising a child, with no help at all also, was more than a lonely note stuck in the refrigerator saying “won’t be back ‘til late. Order some food.” But you couldn’t really complain, could you? You had the freedom every person your age dreamed of.

What dragged you back to your birth town, apart from a long trip by plane, wasn’t a poor attempt of calling his attention, as anyone might have concluded. This happened to you because you pushed the limits a little too much, it just got out of hand. What started with dipping your toe into what seemed like the perfect life, ended up with being suspended three times and eventually your expulsion. It was simple at first, skipping one period of History, to begin with. But that period turned into two and it all concluded with skipping weeks just so you could walk around the city with no destination at all. Sometimes your friends, Jungkook and Hoseok, would follow you. Other times, you would disappear for a good few hours. You were so used to being alone in your house, you might as well find a place that made you happy even in your isolation.

It took some time, but you finally found it enjoyable to be alone. When your friends couldn’t be there for you for whatever the reason was, you would take a random bus and get off somewhere you didn’t fully recognize. You would wander there and come back home really late, but not late enough for your father to notice that because he hadn’t come back from work yet. It wasn’t hard for him to notice that you weren’t doing good in school. A call from the principal and a miscalculation from you resulted into for father actually taking that call and a very long talk about your future, about how the last year of high school practically defines you and about the plans he had for you, great universities and an even greater career. You didn’t care about any of that. Right then it just didn’t seem worthy to work so hard for something you father wanted for you. He didn’t even bother to share what he had planned for you, let alone listen to what you wanted. It didn’t take a genius to assume that what he was thinking of for you would turn you into an even sadder figure of him.

Your grandfather was basically the only one who, despite his advanced age, understood you completely. Even when your father informed him, you knew he wouldn’t have asked questions of why you were visiting him for the whole summer. He was too happy to see you after three years. After hearing the news of your expulsion, he smiled and let you in, ignoring your father’s indications; that you were grounded, and needed discipline. It was refreshing to finally trust an adult. Back in the city, you only had Hoseok and Jungkook, and they were fun to hang out with and they were the closest thing you had to a friend. Nevertheless, you missed the feeling of being taken care of. A nice home-made meal every now and then, to talk about important things related to family, that kind of stuff, the stuff that only a relative can deliver.

The floor of the old beach house still cricked whenever you stepped too hard, you noticed as you walked into the guest room and dropped your suitcases and bag pack on the ground. You recalled the countless times you had crashed here whenever you were too tired to go back next door, to what was at the time where you lived.

“I haven’t had the time to set the bed,” your grandfather sighed, “my back is killing me, so I hoped you could do that for me.”

The bed stood in the middle of the room, naked and surrounded by two antique nightstands. Both of them had a night lamp that you doubted they functioned correctly since they had never, even when you were a child. You had never been scared of the dark and your grandparents rarely received any visits, so they had never felt the need to change the bulbs of said lamps. In the mornings, the sunshine was enough to light up all the room and the almost transparent curtains certainly helped with the natural illumination.

“Sure, let me unpack and I’ll do it.”

He ruffled your hair and then chuckled.

“I’ll make some sandwiches.”

After unpacking, you dropped all your weight on the just set bed. The springs ground against each other because of the sudden movement and you swore that one of them poked you somewhere in your back, but it had never felt more like home.

With your phone in your hands, you spent the next hour to catch up with your friends. It was hard to get to have your mobile back in your power. Your father had confiscated it as part of your punishment and refrained from hearing your countless reasons why you shouldn’t leave the city without any kind of communication. It was a pleasant surprise, or maybe it didn’t come as such as a surprise, to know that your father hadn’t changed his mindset and kept his sock drawer to hide things from you, such as confiscated things, or in a more joyful scenario, Christmas presents.

Hoseok We already miss you here (19:07)

Jungkook You left a bobby pin in my house, come back to get it (19:13)

It was heart-warming. Your chest hurt a little from the separation, and you knew it was only going to be two months away and you could always call them whenever you felt too lonely, but still, there was some excitement tingling inside you because you were aware that you were going to meet them again. The distance just made your heart grow fonder.

You were already feeling a little weird without your things around you. Back in the city, your room wasn’t that cheerful itself, but you made sure to make it that way. The white walls were covered with little drawings, fallen leaves you had collected randomly because they looked too pretty to leave on the floor just like that, and postcards of the places you dreamed of going someday. You knew that if you decided to change the colour of the walls, you would get bored of it soon, so you figured that keeping them plain blank was the perfect chance to customize them as much as you wanted, and you could easily change your mind, your likes or dislikes and it would be as trouble-free as unsticking everything you had put up on the walls. But now, looking here and there, you feel small. The beige walls seem like they are towering over you. It was hard to picture yourself as a little kid in this very same room. Right then, the room seemed boring as hell. Sure, it was where you used to sleep as a child after your grandfather told you a story and those memories would never ever leave you, they had a very special place in your heart, but you came to the conclusion that it was going to be impossible to shield yourself inside the house all the summer like you had planned to do. You had your phone, but you knew that it was only a matter of time until you get bored and feel the need to do something, anything. Besides your mobile, the most interesting thing the room had to offer was maybe the window that had a not so clear nor close view of the beach.

“Why don’t you take a walk?”

Your grandfather really needed to learn how to knock.

“Grandpa! You almost gave me a heart attack…” You yelled with your hand on your chest. Your heartbeat was basically drumming like crazy beneath your palm.

“Those are no fun,” he commented, probably speaking from experience, with a blank expression. “If you are done here, take a walk before it gets dark. Your father said something about curfew, but I just don’t want you walking alone if it’s late.”

It was nice to have an authority figure being kind to you for a change. Not that your father hadn’t been because that would’ve meant he engaged a conversation with you every once in a while, and that literally only happened if you ever got in trouble, but with him being absent all the time, it was hard for anyone to notify him about your playing hooky, or stuff like that.

“I promise I’ll be back before it gets dark.”

You had forgotten how good the summer breeze felt on your skin. The sand was particularly sparkly when the sun was giving its last goodbye. The sand felt warm between your toes, the weight of your body sunk you a little because it was still wet from the high tide. A sudden desire to walk into the sea and put your feet in the water hit you, but you refrained. You knew better than that. There was a high possibility that once in the water, you weren’t going back to your grandfather’s for a long time.

You kept wandering. The sand, once so shiny and golden, turned into a cloud of almost blue dust that seemed as if it had been sprayed with little diamonds when nobody was watching when the moon appeared. The temperature had dropped a little, and you scolded yourself for not having brought a light sweater, the one Jungkook had unpacked, along with other things, from one of your suitcases so he could fit inside of it and you would “bring him with you”. The recent memory made you smile while you tried to shield your chest with your arms against the cold wind. You didn’t remember the night to be this cold and it was probably because when you used to live here, at this hour, you were tucked in bed, probably hearing your grandfather ranting about some nonsense or maybe even sleeping after a long day.

Wait, what time was it?

Automatically, your hands flew to the back pocket of your high-waisted shorts. Your phone wasn’t there. You had left it charging on the nightstand. Great.

There was no much more left to do, really. The beach could extend itself for kilometres if you recall correctly, and you weren’t really on the mood nor with the right attire, a tank top, a pair of shorts and also bared foot, to walk more than just a little bit more.

Your bored eyes checked around and recognized, not too far, the old fishing dock still standing proudly just above the salty water. You had given it for totally destroyed. Even when you were here, that thing had never looked solid and for that very reason, you had never dared to put a single foot on it. You remembered that whenever your father and grandfather left you with the lovely family just across the beach house and went fishing (since they didn’t have a boat they just went to the dock to test their luck) you were practically begging and clutching into their legs so they would change their mind and stay with you. In the end, they would come back, sometimes empty-handed, other times, with a bucket full of fishes for dinner, but safe and sound much to your relief. Back then, you were convinced that only strong people like them could walk through that delicate wooden runway and come back alive to tell the tale. Now you were all grown-up, kind of, and you knew it wasn’t magic or anything like that what allowed them to come back home with not one scratch, but the result of a well-thought architecture.

A little spark inside your chest ignited at the sight of the dock. You didn’t really think about it and run towards it, because that’s the only way doubt creeps in and stops you from doing something that might be a great story to tell when you’re old enough to think that talking to strangers in the bus about the adventures of your youth is socially acceptable and not at all weird.

Soon, you were in front of the only step that separated you from the dock. It was dumb, you realized. You literally were with both your feet on the sand, gasping for air because you had run to get where you were standing, and you still couldn’t bring yourself to step on the wooden boards ahead. It seemed like a huge step, and you didn’t even know why. The first tread seemed pretty solid if someone were to ask you and there were no nails that could possibly nail into your skin and give you tetanus, because, come on, those nails were rusty as hell. There was no reason that kept you from walking down the dock. Nothing. Your father wasn’t there to call you and remind you about your curfew, and even if he had been here, you didn’t have your phone with you. And your foolish fear from when you were a child had been long forgotten. That only left you, and the wooden path.

You walked in the dock.

It was an anti-climax if you were honest. All the fear but also craving to walk down it you had bottled up since you were just a child it didn’t explode like when you shake a soda and pop it open, it just slipped through your fingers like water. You practically watched it dry off on the floor. How disappointing… There was nothing special about the old wooden boards, and the wind was chillier than before. Despite that, you decided to continue your little stroll until the end of the trail. Once there, you sat down and took advantage of the situation to put your feet in the sea.

Hoseok and Jungkook would’ve jumped into the water in no time, you thought, and you would’ve done the exact same thing. But, now you didn’t want to do it. Maybe because it was a little late, you could tell your body was asking for some rest already, or maybe because there was no one to prove anything to. Back in the city, you had your friends, the ones that had met you when you were trying to taste the new freedom your father was giving you so recklessly, and then you had him, your father. But he was a different story. If you had wanted to prove something to him, you would’ve made sure that he noticed you, and that was far from your desires. Sometimes you wanted nothing more but for him to completely forget about you. Yes, he was never home but he still tried to take your future into his hands and if he forgot about you, you could be the only owner of your destiny.

Your feet were softly dancing in the water and you rested your chin in the palm of your hand, devoting your time to watch the movement of the water. The moon, reflected on it, would distort and turn into one million figures by the simple motion of your body, and you were so drowned into it that you almost didn’t notice the water bubbling up. At first, you didn’t think much of it, it had been probably you with your feet, but the bubbles kept coming up even after you had removed your feet from the water. It reminded you of boiling water, and there was certainly something underneath causing all that fuss. The night didn’t help at all, and you found yourself leaning into the water to have a better view of whatever it was down there. The bubbles were only making it harder to distinguish anything at all and you were about to give up when a strike of light blinded you. You fell on your back, almost hitting the back of your head. Your eyes burned considerably, you rubbed them with the hope of relieving the sting.

“What the hell?” You murmured to yourself.

There was something down there, the pain your eyes were going through was the proof.

Slowly, you opened your eyes, blinking a little to get used to the light again. You crawled to the end of the dock. The bubbling had subsided and there was no trace of light or anything at all there, but you knew that something had caused that reaction of the water and that dazzling luminescence. Looking for answers, you checked around you. All seemed clear; the sea was calm, and there was no one in sight. You started to doubt your own common sense. Your head was somewhere else right then. You had had a long trip today and you didn’t remember the last time you had gotten a good night sleep. Maybe your brain had had enough and it finally had drained out of judgment for the day.

In the middle of the silence, a splash was heard nearby, almost next to you. Your head turned in the direction of the noise, and you saw it again; that glow. It wasn’t as dazzling as before but it sure wasn’t hard to notice. It looked like the moon had fallen right into the ocean. Perhaps your sleep-deprived-self was finally giving up, but if the moon hadn’t been above you in the sky, shinning as always, you would’ve honestly believed that it was in the ocean right then. You didn’t notice how the shiny object, that wasn’t the moon, started to approach the dock with languid movements from one side. The only thing you got to hear from your tired mind was “run”, you followed the advice and backed away from the borderline of the path. You must’ve stepped too hard because of the nerves and the pure panic caused one of the old and mouldy wooden boards to snap in half, trapping your left foot. Your toes grazed the salty water beneath the dock. You were now knee-deep between the timber trail and the sea. While your leg had slipped in the hole you had created, the splintered wood had scratched the sides of your calf. The salt in the water just made the pain even worse. You couldn’t drown the whine of pain that got out from your mouth. Your head echoed that torn sound over and over again, it was almost as if you hadn’t stopped screaming for a second. You sounded pitiful, scared and overly vulnerable, yet nobody was coming for your rescue. It was late, dark and the closest family lived like half an hour walk away, that was if they were even home.

In a desperate attempt to unstuck your leg, you rocked it back and forward and tried to use both your hands to lift your body. Your right knee was getting tired of being pressed against the wood, and you were scared that the ancient structure wouldn’t take your weight any longer and lose another part, letting you fall once and for all. Nevertheless, there was no use. Your lower limb was basically compressed there, and the more you moved, the more damage it inflicted to your muscle. The splintered wood was breaking the first layer of skin of your leg, leaving behind a raw trail. Your blood was probably joining the salty water. You begged whatever was stalking from under the sea didn’t like the taste of blood because if it did, it was being attracted to you by the smell of it.

Besides your rushed breathing, you could hear near to nothing around you. This little town barely had a twentieth of the population the city you had been living the past few years had; even if you screamed your lungs out, nobody would hear. The few people that lived here were far away enough to hear whatever was happening on the beach, moreover, they were asleep.

A cold shiver licked your body from the inside, all the way from the tip of your toe, going through your spine, to end at the top of your head. There was something wrapped around your foot. A frozen grip that kept growing tighter and tighter. You couldn’t quite tell if it was because of the cold touch, or maybe it was the fact that you were terrified, but your body refused to respond to your brain. You were trapped in every sense of the word; your leg was impaled between splintered wood, something was clutching at your foot, and your body wasn’t responding. The grip was familiar, it felt almost like a hand. You could feel fingers too, but it had sharp claws at the tips. The claws grazed your skin as if it was trying to calm you down. Too bad it only made you reminded you of how cows are stunned before being killed. The touch was relatively melodious considering the circumstances. Melodious since your breathing wasn’t hurried anymore. Somehow, you had accomplished to synchronize your breathing with the movement of those delicate brushes on your skin; inhaling the closer it got to your thigh, and exhaling when it went down to your toes. Hypnotizing. A hypnotizing touch that went in a spiral to your core. Your mind was clouded by pleasing grey fog. All the worries vanished just like that. There was nothing in your mind. In your head, you were floating above water, a soft tide swinging your body back and forward. It seemed so real.

“Feeling any better?”

No matter how velvety that voice was, your breathing got stuck in your throat. It didn’t make you feel safe, quite the opposite, because there was no one around that could be the owner of that voice. It was literally coming from the dark.

The air wasn’t fresh anymore, you weren’t sure if you were breathing anymore. There was a weak beeping in your ear, accompanied by the sound of your blood pumping through your veins. You wanted to cry.

In your dazzled state, the only thing you succeeded to rescue was that single thought: run. So that’s what you decided to do. You tried to pull your leg out of the hole, again, not caring about the sharp pain on your thigh, ignoring the thought of how the shattered wood was peeling your skin off. You screamed when the underwater grip got tighter around your ankle. The claws, pinning in your skin, were like a shot of frozen, but bubbly, liquid into your veins. You stopped fighting, not because you wanted, but because you were physically unable to move. You knew there was no use on crying for help, but oh, how would you’ve loved to be able to scream until your lungs burned, that would’ve been the only source of warmth in your body.

You wondered if the wood had already cut off your circulation; if it was easier to chop off your leg completely, but you knew that the answer to those questions was no. You could feel how cold the water was, that hand, still gripping onto your ankle. There was no doubt, the circulation was there.

At this rate, you weren’t sure if there was someone, or something, that could have mercy on you. You glanced around you, attempting to see through the tears that were clouding your sight, seeking for anything that could be of utility, maybe something you could use as a lever, but there was nothing around, just old and broken wood boards that wouldn’t be helpful. The whole deck was made out of them, and thanks to this situation, you had confirmed the obvious; they were fragile, they couldn’t support your weight…

That’s it!

You took a deep breath, bent your body to one side, lifted your arm, and then lowered it with might, hitting the wood board that was right next to the one your leg was stuck in with your elbow. It cracked, but it didn’t break. You tried again until it eventually broke in half and both pieces fell in the ocean. The board around your leg followed them. You were too shocked to move, but when the realisation hit you, and you dared to look down, there was nothing holding onto your ankle. You moved back from there, just in case, and raised your leg up with the help of both your arms to carefully straightened it up the best you could. There were fresh, but superficial cuts all around it, right above your knee, those you were expecting to see. The rest of your leg was rather unharmed, except for your ankle. Blood was dripping from four vertical cuts. You gasped at the sight. It looked bad and you were sure it would look even worse if you didn’t do something about it. You had to apply pressure to the wound, you remembered you had read that somewhere.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

It was that voice again. No matter how briefly you had heard it, you knew it was the same voice.

You turned around and found a pair of eyes staring right back at you. They belonged to a man around your age, you soon noticed. Half of his face was underwater, but you still could appreciate his exceptional features; high cheekbones, blond hair, a colour that would only be attainable with bleach, and sun-kissed skin. But the feature that truly captured your attention was his gaze. You were scared to death. Your knees were ready to give in. However, there was something about those green eyes that made your heart settle down inside your trembling body.

Despite your dry throat, you dared to speak.

“Who are you?”

There was no response. He raised both eyebrows as if saying “oh, really?”, and began to swim closer to the deck. You automatically tried to move away, which made him stop his tracks. He looked confused.

“Stay back,” you demanded.

Your voice was anything but confident, so you were surprised when he didn’t move an inch closer to the dock. The stranger simply held both hands in the air, showing surrender, but you didn’t let your guard down. There was something about his presence that made you feel uncomfortably calmed. A little voice in your head was telling you that he was to be trusted, but your body just wouldn’t stop reacting with rejection towards him. If he got any closer, he could easily overpower you. There was nothing you could defend yourself with, and you weren’t going to run off, your leg wouldn’t let you, so you decided to keep your distance using your hands to push your body further back from the edge of the dock.

“Who are you?” You asked again, louder.

The stranger rolled his eyes but he was quick to lock your gazes again with a bored expression. A shiver went down your spine and left a fire trace along with it.

Something was wrong, you could feel it.

In a poor attempt of hiding the fear that was washing over you, you tried to get on your feet. If this stranger was the person to blame for your wounded leg, you couldn’t let him know he had an advantage over you. So, with quivering legs, you stood up.

“You’re the one who did this to me.”

It wasn’t a question. You were almost certain that this man had hurt you. After all, he was the only one there with you.

He took the rest of his head out of the water. His lips were stretched in an unapologetic smile, but he stayed silent.

“You’re not going to deny it?” You asked frowning.

“Why would I?” He answered, surprising you, “you seem pretty sure about your theory.”

The sound of his voice vibrated on your chest, it almost threw you down your feet again. You knew you had heard his voice a few times that night, but it always took you by surprise. His voice was so powerful and dominating, you felt the need to surrender to him.

“Oh, the little girl is scared, isn’t she?”

His teasing tone made you grit your teeth in frustration. You took a deep breath and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Who are you?”

“You’re gonna keep asking that? Fine,” he scoffed. “My name is Kim Taehyung.”

Sharp pain in your wounded leg caused you to buck your knees and almost hit the ground. You had to do something about your injuries, otherwise, there was going to be an infection or worse. You went back to your previous idea and bent down to apply pressure on the wound.

“I wouldn’t do that…” Taehyung hummed.

At first, you weren’t going to listen to him because; in all honesty, who would listen to a creepy stranger that most definitely had hurt you? But he was still where you had asked him to stay, and he didn’t seem to be moving from there anytime soon.

“And why would I listen to you, huh? You literally cut my skin.”

Taehyung laughed bitterly, and then looked away from you to the night sky. You wondered if he was trying to make time, if there was someone hiding in the dark, ready to attack you. The thought made you shiver. Now you weren’t so sure that putting your guard down was such a good idea.

He kept his eyes on the sky almost peacefully. The fact that he could be so calmed around you while you were struggling to catch your breath just cleared up your actual situation; he was in power now and you couldn’t do anything about it, even if you tried. No matter how strong you thought to could be, he didn’t need to be careful around you, it was the other way around. The only thing you could do was to hope he would get distracted enough time for you to ran and hide until the morning came.

His gaze locked yours and he smiled.

“I’m surprised you’re on your feet,” he noted, “most of you don’t last this long.”

His tone was so calmed like he had done this exact same thing many times before. You had had a slight impression that he had planned this, but with what he had just said, you were now completely sure.

Sweat was dripping down your forehead, cold, freezing even, sweat but your body was heating up, boiling.

“Listen, I-”

“No,” he interrupted you, “you listen to me. If you want to live, don’t touch your wound.”

You had never liked for anyone to tell you what to do, but in this situation, you didn’t have a choice, did you?

While thinking of what to answer to him, you felt your knees shake. Your legs finally gave up. Your body hit the floor and you heard the wood board crack beneath you, you held your breath.

“What’s happening?” You urged.

“Are you new around here?”

“What?”

“Hasn’t anyone told you not to wander around the beach late at night, dumb girl?” He sounded confused, surprised even, but his tone changed after some sort of realisation. “Of course no one has. Your kind is characteristically stupid, always have been.”

The numbing feeling was spreading at a slow speed. Your feet were there, they were definitely there, but you couldn’t feel them.

“M-make it stop!”

You heard a sigh from beneath the dock.

“Panicking will only make it worse, and you don’t want that, do you?”

“What-”

“If you touch your wound, you won’t feel your arms in a matter of minutes,” he then explained.

Had he poisoned you?

“Now, stay still and listen to me, dumb girl. I’ve got something to tell you…”

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uni-life-tips · 4 years

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5 Tips for your 1st Job

I've beening a lot of posts about people gushing about landing their first ever job or mentioning how badly their legs ache from work and all that. I got a few things to put out there after seeing all that.

1) Congrats on landing a job--regardless if it's your 1st or your 30th or whatever. Regardless of whatever job it is, you've got something to be proud of. It's hard to find work nowadays and a lot of good people are struggling to make ends meet and remain employed with economies the way they are now. Ultimately, having a source of income--especially a steady and dependable one--for any period of time is an amazing feeling. Be proud of yourself and don't let anyone bring you down if they try to make you feel bad with phrases like 'under-employed', 'minimum wage', 'blue-collar work', or 'part-time' or whatever. If you've got a steady source of income for the foreseeable future that's something to be proud of right now and don't let anyone bring you down for it. It doesn't matter if they make more than you or have a 'career' or even if they're your role model. They're not you, they're not living in your shoes--and they have no right to judge or snub their noses at whatever it is you do.

2) Almost hand-in-hand with the above...take pride in your job--whatever it is. Please be accountable and make it a priority in your life. Skipping work 'cuz you don't like wherever you're stationed to work or because you'd rather be doing other stuff isn't cool. Your co-workers are going to have to pay for that sort of decision. Someone is going to be called in or have to stay longer to cover your shift. That means that someone's plan to sleep-in or cook a decent meal or go on a date will be ruined if you decide to play hooky. Even if you're doing it to spite a less-than-desirable manager please know that you're hurting your fellow employee with this sort of behavior--the manager isn't going to be as hurt by your actions as you think they're going to be. Show up on-time or at least give ample notice if/when you need to ditch (unless it's an emergency). Please be kind to your co-workers. It's much more enjoyable for everyone if you can chat and joke around with your co-workers instead of sullen silence or acting all cut-throat or whatever. Gossiping about each other is also in poor taste. You don't have to be buddy-buddy with your co-workers...but if you're on-shift together then at least be civil if not friendly.

3) About aching feet/legs...it usually comes with the territory if you're working retail or fast-food or anything else that requires you to stand and/or walk around all day. See if your employer can get better mats for the workspace. I've found that the thick ones with holes in them are head-and-shoulders above the solid-black flat ones...if that makes sense. Also, invest in shoe-inserts for comfort. They're kind of pricey but not having sore heels is definitely worth an hour or three of my paycheck...I think. I'd suggest not buying the cheap ones or the ones that only cover half the sole...get the full-sole insert 'cuz the smaller/shorter ones are going to slide around and make things worse. Also, cheaper ones wear out faster or otherwise end up really uncomfortable. Make sure you are wearing shoes that fit if you want to avoid blisters. When resting (on-break, or sleeping) try to elevate your feet. When I started my first retail job I found that sleeping with my feet propped up on some rolled up blankets/pillows gave me immense relief in the morning. Soaking your legs/feet in hot water is also a good way for some relief. And using a pumice stone for skin build-up is heavenly. Seriously, pamper your feet. Along the same lines, if your job is the type that requires a lot of sitting and inactivity, remember to stretch. I know more than enough people with major back problems because they sit for 5+ hours a day. Seriously--set an alarm to go off on your phone every hour as a reminder to stand up and stretch properly before continuing your work. No amount of pay or “work ethic recognition” is worth the chronic aches and pains that come with the job. Prevent back problems and don’t bank on the whole “eh, I’ll just find a good chiropractor”--3 minutes of stretching and moving about every hour will save you a bunch of money, a bunch of time, and a heck of a lot of pain and grief.

4) Know your rights. The government in your area should have a worker/employer rights and obligations thing. Read up on that. It often includes things like how many minutes of rest (breaks) are required for how many hours of work. E.g. Lets say you have an 8 hour shift and your manager makes you go on your break 2 hours into the shift...that would mean you're working for another 5.5-6 hours after your break. Check your worker's rights--it's possible that legally, you're entitled to some form of break for every 4 straight hours of work. Decide for yourself if you're going to bring up such things with your manager(s) if conflicts arise.

5) Track your hours. I can't stress this one enough. Don't just assume that your workplace/manager(s) are good people that will always give you your full pay every pay-period. Me and my friends have experienced many pay-periods where we were short-changed on pay. We track our hours--we know exactly how many hours and dollars should be recorded on our paystub/paycheck. Check and compare. Invest in some sort of calendar where you can record your hours worked and know the exact number of hours/pay you are expecting each pay-period. A lot of the time, it’s an accident. The manager mis-counted or forgot that we took on an extra shift within that pay-period. Often times, it’s an honest mistake...but be wary about managers that seem to make these mistakes often, or the ones that will cut your hours as ‘punishment’ for confronting them about the short-change. You are entitled to your pay. Even if you love your job, it’s still a job and you deserve to be paid for every hour you put in.

#life tips #first job #job tips #employment

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quatregats · 4 years

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How to feel less bad about Everything: Part the First

I thought that in these trying times I would try to write a sort of explanation for how to (maybe???) start getting yourself to feel better. I've seen plenty of advice floating around for how to be productive and lift your mood, but a lot of it has just made me feel worse because I feel like I'm not doing enough, which just makes me want to give up on everything. If you've been feeling the same way, this guide is for you.

In the past almost-year I've found out that it's not actually being productive that makes my mental health feel better. I've gone through a lot of periods where I'm getting stuff done, but I still feel terrible; conversely, I've also gone through periods where I feel great and like I'm doing lots of things, and actually I'm just doing my normal amount of work. So simple productivity isn't the whole solution here – it's doing things and making your brain recognize that you're doing them.

That's actually a lot more complicated than it sounds, because if your brain doesn't want to believe something there's not a lot you can do. But one thing that's helped me feel better when mental health things crop up is to try to rebuild my confidence in myself. The way I do this is to set smaller goals and to try and be consistent, two things which are also a lot more complicated than they sound. The following guide is a way to get yourself to do that, and hopefully it can help!

aaaaaand on to part 1.... the Baseline! (takes your baseline and throws it out the window)

(under the cut b/c this is Too Long)

Setting reasonable goals is weirdly difficult, especially if you're like me and always want to do 20 million different things at every opportunity. The first thing that you need to do, and this is very important, is just let go of feeling like you have to be doing something, relaxing your expectations for yourself to absolute zero – literally absolute zero, like existing-on-this-earth-right-now-is-an-achievement absolute zero – and ignoring anything and everything that's giving you some standard to meet. Get rid of feeling like you have requirements, because you don't. And stop feeling guilty about things. No guilt. If you feel guilty I will fight you, you have nothing to feel guilty about because you exist and therefore you did all you need to do. Once you've managed to let go of feeling like you need to be doing things (or at least sort of managed to, it’s hard to completely throw it out of the window if you’ve had it ingrained into you all your life), you’re ready to move on to the next paragraph.

Pick 1-3 things that you want to work on. If switching activities or focus is hard for you, pick 1 thing. If you need variety, pick 3. But don't pick a lot of things. There is lots of advice out there for what to do when you're not in a good mental state, but if you're not in a good mental state, it can, rather ironically, be super overwhelming and just make it worse. If you're trying to deal with feeling depressed, anxious, or even just unproductive, focus on one thing that's making you feel really bad. That is the only thing you're going to be worrying about now. Not your chores, not your messy room, not the bazillion messages from your friends that you haven’t read. Convince yourself that absolutely nothing else matters, even if you feel like it does, because it doesn't.

Say, for example, that you're going to try to focus on self-care. That means that taking care of your body and mind is the only thing that you need to be thinking about during the day (of course you can think about other things too, but you don’t need to). Set 2-4 tasks that you can easily achieve – they might take a bit more effort than lying in bed but you think you could muster the strength to do them if that was all you had to do. If you're feeling really depressed or anxious, for example, you could set 2 simple goals: drink 2 glasses of water and get out of bed to open the curtains. Or maybe you're just feeling jilted out of your routine, and so you want to try to take a shower, eat 3 meals a day, and go for a walk – these might all be things you more or less do, but you haven't been good at sticking to all of them lately. The key is that whatever you're trying to do needs to be something you can do, and it needs to come from you, not some weird nebulous feeling of guilt. If you're not up to eating 3 meals a day right now, that's fine. Do what you can.

If you need to focus on more than one thing to keep yourself entertained, only set 1-2 goals for each thing. For example, if you're focusing on self-care and school, then you'll have a self-care goal, like drink 2 glasses of water, and a school goal, like sitting down and doing 15 minutes of homework every day. Keep the number of goals down! Only make more if you think you can actually achieve them, but having more than about 3-4 specific goals is too much to start with. We're doing the bare minimum here. Don’t overcomplicate it. Nothing else matters outside of these few things, stop acting like it does.

Now that you've set these goals, write them down somewhere. Multiple places, if you want. Make a sticker chart and write them on a post-it note and set them as reminders on your phone. The goal here is as much positive feedback as possible, so the more things you can check off and star and cover with stickers, the better. Show yourself that you're doing things, so that your brain has to believe it. Offer yourself rewards if you need to – watching a show, scrolling through the internet, eating a bag of cookies, literally anything you want. If you're still feeling guilty about anything, stop. You're doing things, remember? You're doing your 2-4 things, and nothing else matters.

Okay, this last step is the most important: stick to it. You need to hold yourself accountable, because if you don't it's going to be really hard to get started, and also to keep going after more than a couple of days. A plan is nice and all, but it's not much good if you don't do it. Remember, you only have a couple of things you need to get done every day. Just do them. But also make sure you remember to do them, and motivate yourself to do them. Rewards and stickers are all good, but sometimes inertia holds you back from starting. A lot of times, I'll have a reward, but then feel like the thing is impossible so it isn't worth it to bother trying. Even if the reward is something I really want, I can't motivate myself to start. So make a promise to someone you can't let down. Promise your stuffed animals, your best friend, your 5 Tumblr followers, literally anyone. And then tell yourself over and over again until you do it: I just have to do this one thing, and then I'm finished. I just have to do this one thing, and then I'm finished. I just have to do this one thing, and then I'm finished. It won't take that long to do it, I promise. But you have to get it done, and the sooner the better.

Finally, if you stumble, that’s okay. If you miss a day, the world doesn’t end. If your goals are too hard, bring them down a notch. But don’t give up. Keep trying until you get it right, because I can promise that you will get it right. Remember, you’re not trying to be productive, you’re trying to remember how to believe in yourself. Make sure that you truly have let go of all of your expectations for yourself, because that’s your #1 enemy. And most importantly, be kind to yourself. If you do something, even if it’s not the whole list, celebrate it. If you didn’t do anything on the list that day, tell yourself what you did do. Even if it wasn’t ““productive””, I’m sure you did things. Heck, even staring at the ceiling is something. You’ll try again tomorrow, and you’re not going to give up without a fight.

That’s it! If you want to, try it out (and by that I mean actually do it) >:’0 Next week, I'll do a follow-up post for how to keep moving upwards once you've gotten here, but I’ll leave it at this for now, because I don't want to spoil the surprise before you guys have started :)

#ahaha this is so long #does it need a tldr?#probably #i will try to shut up more for the next one #anyway yeah if you need someone to hold you accountable i got u bro #the key is not making it be about getting things done but rather making you feel like you're getting things done #so it doesn't really matter what the things are #that's the secret to life folks #perce rambles

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jawnjendes · 5 years

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dive into the dark | shawn mendes

chapter 11/?, university au, shawn x goth oc

AN: sry for the delay summertime depression has come with a vengeance lulz have some angsty comfort

***let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist

masterlist | playlist

“There once was a boy named Shawnie, destined to be a star.”

Why was that the last straw? Why was a photo of Stella, Shawn, and Camila dressed as Hogwarts students at a Halloween party the thing to send Annalise spiraling? What about that measly little Instagram post possessed Annalise to text her former shrink at four in the morning?

It’s not like she wanted to go to any of the stupid parties on campus. In the past, she and Patrick would hang out in a cemetery and be with the dead. Yes, she gave in to those goth stereotypes sometimes too. Annalise justified it by claiming she was celebrating Dia de los Muertos. This year, however, she just stayed in the dorm by herself, her own Hogwarts outfit sitting in her closet, making no noise and pretending it doesn’t exist. She was alone long enough for everything to come down on her, and the photo of her friends and not-boyfriend all but broke her to pieces.

So on November first, Annalise found herself in Callie’s office. It wasn’t hard getting herself to go there; Therapy had been a constant in her life for a year, and she missed it. She knew she had things to get off her chest, but it stalled when she was actually sat in front of Callie, who was quite happy to see her.

“It’s been a few months, hasn’t it?” she said, smiling warmly. “Where were we the last time you were here?”

Annalise shrugged. “I had exams going on, and I was picking out classes and a dorm for the next semester.”

“Right. And you’re in between classes now if I remember from your text. So all that went well, I assume?”

“Yeah. Still in school. Still working.”

Callie nodded. She hadn’t written anything on her clipboard yet. “I don’t mean to pry, but I also heard you were in the hospital for a bit?”

“Did Shawn tell you that?” Annalise’s polite tone changed. “He’s always telling everyone my business.”

Surprisingly, Callie wasn’t bothered by the sudden mood change. “I believe you told me over text. We had to pause our sessions because you were in recovery.”

“Oh. Oh yeah. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get all snappy.” She went red.

“It’s alright. So, would you like to talk about what happened in the hospital?”

That was all the first session was: hospital talk. Annalise knew this story like the back of her hand, but it was less annoying telling it again because Callie already knew the stuff about the pre-existing health problems. It’s on reason why Annalise started therapy in the first place.

“Now, whenever my mom or dad call me, a majority of the conversation is about what I’m eating,” she explained. “Or what I should be eating. And Shawn constantly reminds me not to skip meals. I know I’m sick, but it gets so annoying sometimes. I know my body, and I know what I’m feeling.”

“Okay, hang on,” Callie said, holding up a hand to stop her. “You refer to yourself as sick?”

Annalise had to think about it. It came out of her mouth, but she never really processed that she was saying it. “Yeah. That’s how my parents always put it since it all started, I guess I picked it up from them.”

“Well, I - and I’m sure plenty of other people - don’t see you as sick. You were in the hospital, you had surgery, and now you’re fine. Ann, if you keep referring to yourself as a sick person, it will have an impact on your mental wellbeing. You are not sick, you have a chronic sickness.”

For some reason, that hit in the very center of Annalise’s chest. If she was cracked from the Instagram photos, then this practically burst the dam. She nodded, processing Callie’s words, but one part stuck out to her.

“I am fine now. It wasn’t a life threatening case, anyway.”

“Well, you did bleed internally after the first surgery,” Callie corrected. “And you had an infection on the incisions after. That’s not nothing. That’s very dangerous, and life threatening.”

“But it wasn’t that bad. They caught it in time, and I don’t even remember what it felt like. Besides, it’s not like I have cancer or anything.” Annalise paused and looked down. “Everything went fine, despite the infections and near death. I’m back to doing what I did before, but I feel… I didn’t die, but it feels like a part of me did.”

Callie now wrote on her clipboard, her pen scribbling being the only sound in the room. Then, she trailed her green eyes over to Annalise. “And it’s okay to feel that way. Putting your life in the hands of anyone, including medical professionals, makes you very vulnerable as it is. Adding surgery to that only adds to the vulnerability, not to mention it is invasive and can be quite traumatizing.”

“Helpless and dependent too,” Annalise added, picking at her nails. “Practically useless.”

“Let’s not say useless, okay? You needed help. You were recovering for surgery, it was for your own wellbeing.”

She shrugged, not exactly agreeing with that statement despite the truth in it. “I just don’t like depending on people.The nurses always pushed me to move on my own without disturbing the incisions, but I could never bring myself to do it. I knew I had to so I could properly heal, but I felt so lazy and weak. I felt like a sack of potatoes, having to be physically moved everywhere.”

There were times Callie would react to things her clients said. This was one of those times. She chuckled and raised her eyebrows. “A sack of potatoes?”

Annalise smiled timidly. “Yeah…”

That settled the homework Annalise was left with. She had to cut the harmful words out of her vocabulary. She was not useless. She was not lazy. She was most certainly not a sack of potatoes.

She felt okay during the session, but as soon as she was back in her car, Annalise felt the weight slam on her chest. As she drove back to campus, she started to remember things that she didn’t even know were in her head. She noticed the difference in a nurse who worked in the day versus the night. One was much perkier than the other. She never saw the same nurse twice during the entire stay. She couldn’t even count the amount of people who lifted up her gown to examine the incisions, much less the people who actually asked if they could expose her like that.

Heart pounding, Annalise moved a shaking hand towards the radio, turning up the volume and letting the sounds of 5SOS soothe her anxious state.

Today wasn’t supposed to be spent alone in the apartment, serenading a cat. Shawn loved Henry to bits and pieces, but this wasn’t the lady he was supposed to be spending time with. He appreciated that she didn’t run when he sang. Or shit all over his romantic gesture. She did shit right next to her litter box, though, and that was annoying to deal with.

“I can’t see one thing wrong between the both of us…” he trailed off, strumming his guitar. Then he sighed; That line didn’t age well.

Henry tilted her round head at the sound of the guitar. It was entertaining to watch, but not enough to make Shawn laugh or even smile. She jumped down from the top of the couch cushion and down to the carpet, stretching her limbs before scurrying over to the condo. Shawn watched her and then let his head fall back to the arm of the couch. He strummed an entirely different song.

“Beggin’ to hear your voice… tell me you love me too…”

He nearly fell off the couch when his phone went off, going from zero to one hundred in less than a second. He was still on the waiting game with both work and the live lounge, and the possibility of either of these places calling him back was enough to make him chuck his guitar across the room. He didn’t, though, he just hastily set it down as he answered the phone call without even looking at the ID.

He really should have. Let’s just say, Shawn was George O’Malley, and the voice on the other line was a fucking bus.

“Shawn?”

“Ann?”

A small pause. Then, she spoke very fast, before Shawn could even process what the fuck was happening. “I know we’re supposed to be fighting or not talking to each other, I know I’m supposed to be mad at you - and I still am - but, uh… I… I’m - can we call a truce? Just for an hour or two?”

He almost said yes in a heartbeat, but he caught himself. “What do you mean by truce? What’ll happen during those hours?”

Ann’s hesitation meant that she knew he was talking about the previous check ins. “It’s not like that. I promise. It’s just… something’s kind of happening, and I don’t think I can deal with it by myself.”

“You need to be more specific. What’s going on?”

“I’m in pain. Physical pain.”

Now it was Shawn’s turn to stay quiet. “Oh…”

Needless to say, Ann came over. For once, she was in sweatpants instead of her pajama bottoms. She also had on a black hoodie with the words “Positive Mental Attitude” on the sleeves. Her long, dark hair was down but very unkempt, and her olive skin was looking paler than normal.

The first thing Shawn did was feel her forehead for a fever. Ann made a small noise at the gesture, her brows furrowing.

“Sorry,” he said, taking his hands away. “I was just checking.”

She sighed as she let herself into the living room. “You remind me of my mother more and more every day. Not even a hello, just straight with the touching and worrying.”

Shawn resisted rolling his eyes. Didn’t she understand he did that because he cares? “How come you didn’t just go straight to the doctor?”

“It’s not excruciating,” she replied. “It’s bothersome, and it’s definitely there. But it’s not keeping me from doing anything.”

“Is it the same pain as before? In your abdomen?”

Ann shook her head, growing a little timid. “It’s around my ovaries. Pelvic pain.”

“You period?”

“Already passed. I’ve been feeling this for two days.”

Shawn tried very hard not to flip out. He resisted the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. She’s been in pain for a whole forty eight hours and she hasn’t done anything about it? This is exactly how it happened last time.

“So again,” he said, attempting to sound calm, “why don’t you just go to the doctor? Why are you here of all places?”

Ann had been looking at her hands the entire time. But when she locked her tired eyes with Shawn’s, he knew just how serious and important her next statement was.

“I can’t face the doctor alone.”

“You want me to go with you.” It wasn’t a question. Shawn was just able to pull the words out of her.

“Please?” she asked. “I know things are off right now but you’re the only one I can count on. You’re the only one who’s seen this side of me.”

Shawn would be lying if he said that didn’t tug on his heartstrings. Ann needs him, and she is admitting to that. But one thing stuck out in his mind; She had been asking a lot of him. She asked him for the separation, to be patient with her, and now this.

But it seems like Ann knows how to pull things out of him too. “You said you would make it up to me. This would help.”

Then again, when did she ever ask Shawn for help?

Ann insisted on driving, but Shawn dragged her into his Jeep. She navigated the way to her gyno, bouncing her legs on the way. That was when Shawn noticed that the serious faced, composed-by-nature girl was long gone. When did she lose that part of herself? That fundamental part of who she is seemed to fade away over the last few months, and Shawn was only now catching onto that? No wonder she was so angry at him all the time. It was a cry for help.

“What do you think it is?” he asked her. “The pain?”

“I don’t know. That’s what’s got me kinda worried,” she replied. “I’ve never felt this before. Google said they might be cysts that have to be surgically removed, so I stopped looking.”

Kinda worried? She was scared, scared to the point where she needed someone with her. Meaning, Shawn had to remain calm and collected, despite being worried himself.

“It’s probably nothing major,” he said, still managing to follow the voice from the Maps app on Ann’s phone. “They’ll prescribe you something, and you’ll be fine.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

Shawn took a quick glance at her. She wasn’t exactly wrong. Nothing more was said until Shawn had pulled into the parking lot of the clinic. He shut off the engine and took off his seatbelt, properly turning to face Ann.

“Hey, look at me.”

Slowly, her head turned towards him, like she was hesitating. Shawn wanted to hold her hand or cup her cheek, but it was hard to tell what was allowed her.

“No matter what happens,” he told her, “you will be okay. You will come out of this.”

He stood by her as she spoke to the receptionist. He sat with her in the waiting room as she filled out three different forms on a clipboard. Shawn wondered how she wasn’t confused by any of the questions; He always needed his mom or dad with him at any appointment to help him.

The wait wasn’t long once Ann turned in the paperwork. A nurse called her back, and Ann gestured for Shawn to follow.

“How are you, Ms. Flores?” the nurse asked as she led them down a blank, white corridor.

“Swell,” she replied in a way that did not sound swell.

“Right in here.” She turned the corner and gestured to a small room. “We’re just going to take a little bit of blood. The physician will be right with you.”

Ann silently went and sat in the big chair next to the counter with all the blood taking tools. She sat back like it was second nature. Shawn merely stood against the back wall, unsure of what to do with himself. This room was clearly made for two people, and he wasn’t supposed to be one of them.

Finally, a woman in a white lab coat entered the room, putting on a pair of latex gloves. She smiled warmly. “Let’s get this show on the road! Now which one of you is Annalise Marie Flores?”

“I don’t have a middle name,” Ann told her, very much not on the same level as the perky medic.

She pointed at her. “That was a test to verify your name, and you passed! Now I just need you to verify your date of birth!”

“Twelve. Twenty seven. Ninety seven.” Still not amused, but Shawn was. The two different energies was almost comical.

The physician approached the counter as she got her tubes and needle ready as she continued speaking. “A fellow Capricorn. That’s the best sign. Except I was born on Christmas Eve so my birthday was always overlooked.”

Ann only nodded, visibly disinterested.

“So, which arm are you gonna let me poke?” the physician asked.

“Whichever has the best vein,” she simply replied.

It was like a script Ann had memorized. How many times had she done this in the past?

Shawn looked at the floor as soon as Ann was stuck with the needle. It was a good minute of listening to the physician hum to herself before she finally acknowledged Shawn.

“Here for moral support?”

“Pretty much,” he replied, keeping his eyes on his boots. “She asked me to come, I couldn’t say no.”

“Friendship goals, right there.”

He smiled, despite the pang of annoyance that struck his chest. Was the rift between them that obvious?

“Alright, let’s get a look at your battle wound.” She wrapped up Ann’s arm in cotton and gauze. “So, your results will be ready in a few minutes, and I’ll be back to go over them and see where to go from there!”

“Okay,” was all Ann had to say.

“Thank you,” Shawn told the lady before she left.

Ann let her head fall back against the chair as soon as they were alone. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes. “I liked that lady, she was cool.”

Shawn chuckled. “Yeah, you guys acted like such best friends.”

“Well, at least she knows Capricorns are superior.”

“You act like you’ve never met a Leo.”

For the first time today, Ann cracked a smile. She opened her eyes and looked at him. “I know your act of having your shit together is exactly that.”

Maybe astrology wasn’t all bullshit. Shawn wanted to say something to prove her wrong, but then he would be proving her point at the same time.

“Yeah, well…” he trailed off, making Ann grin even wider.

It was good to see that, so he let it slide.

Another few minutes went by and a different woman in a lab coat entered the room. It was a lady in her 30s, blonde hair, kind but professional face. Her presence made Ann visibly perk up.

“Hello, Ms. Flores,” the doctor said with a smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

"Dr. Pacini," Ann greeted. "I didn't think you would be here, I kind of came at the last minute."

"Well, I heard you were here, and I had a look at your blood test results." She stopped herself and placed her hands on her hips, acknowledging Shawn. "Is this the boyfriend you told me about?"

Ann nodded silently.

"Hi," Shawn greeted, holding his hand out. He couldn't ignore the tiny jump his heart did hearing that Ann talked about him.

"Nice to meet you," Dr. Pacini said, shaking his hand. Then she turned back to Ann. "So it's okay that he's in here while we discuss your results?"

"Yeah, absolutely."

The blood test showed that Ann's hormones were completely unbalanced, and apparently that wasn’t anything new. She was very high in testosterone, and that was when Shawn learned that women could actually produce that hormone. What was news to Ann was that she was also anemic and low in potassium. Then they discussed her irregular menstrual cycle (another thing Shawn didn’t know about), and more personal information was taken in. Ann really wanted Shawn here to witness this? She could barely talk about her day without thinking she was oversharing.

"Were there any changes with your birth control?" Dr. Pacini asked.

"I missed some doses when I was in the hospital," Ann replied, suddenly timid. “And a few doses after I was discharged.”

“How many exactly?”

She looked down and mumbled. “Three months…”

"And that is plenty of time for new cysts to form on your ovaries. So if it's alright with you, I'd like to do a pelvic exam and a vaginal ultrasound."

Shawn knew Ann so well that the split second pause meant that this is what she had been afraid of. He finally stepped towards the chair she was sitting in, silently letting her know he was there.

"It's entirely up to you," Dr. Pacini said, "but I strongly suggest it. It would give us the chance to rule out anything serious."

Ann nodded. "Um… do I have to make another appointment and come back another time?"

"No, we can get it all done today."

"Oh-kay, then."

Dr. Pacini led them out of the room and down the hallway. Ann looked at Shawn as they went, anything but masking composure. He placed his hand on the small of her back as they walked into a different observation room.

“So on a scale of one to ten, how intense is the pain?” Dr. Pacini asked.

“About a six,” Ann replied. “I can function, but I can’t ignore it.”

“Got it. So just strip from the waist down, lie down on the chair, and we’ll get started.”

Ann wanted Shawn to sit closer as she was examined, so he did. The only reason why this was weird was because Ann did not like being this vulnerable in front of anyone, even Shawn. That, and she was still apparently fuming from their last fight, yet something about all of this made her reach out to him in need. He played with her hair as he tried yet again to understand the way her mind works.

Dr. Pacini noticed the tiny gesture. “How long have you two been together?”

Not surprisingly, Ann didn’t say anything. She wouldn’t be the one to say they were together at a time like this, pelvic exam aside.

“One year today,” Shawn answered anyway.

“Well, congratulations.” Dr. Pacini smiled.

Ann looked at him, now distracted from what was going on downstairs. “One year?”

“Yeah. November seventh. Took you on a date to the coffee shop.”

“Didn’t think we’d spend our anniversary like this.”

He knew she meant that in more ways than one. Shawn didn’t think he would be here either, hanging onto the tiny thread Ann had provided. And to think he really thought about the idea of considering ending things permanently… He was a sucker for her.

“Okay, my dear,” Dr. Pacini said, sitting up straight. “Onto the ultrasound.”

“Anything weird down there?” Ann asked with a nervous chuckle.

“I did detect some bumps on your ovaries, so I need to get a better look at what exactly those are.” She held up a long, thin… thing. “Just like the pelvic exam, it’ll be uncomfortable but not painful.”

Shawn chose not to look directly at it for more than a second. He kept his eyes on Ann’s anxious face as the ultrasound began. He had so many questions: Was this her first vaginal ultrasound? How many times has she come to see Dr. Pacini in the past? How long was she on birth control? What reproductive disorder did she have that required her to take birth control? Why did they ever use condoms if she was already on birth control?

It took a bit longer to get the results for the ultrasound, making Ann stay hauntingly quiet as she got dressed again. Shawn really didn’t know what to say that wasn’t any of the questions circling his head. When Dr. Pacini came back with the results, she deemed that there were in fact, new cysts forming. However, it wasn’t severe or particularly harmful, so Ann was prescribed a new birth control along with progesterone.

“That’s it?” Ann asked in disbelief. “That’s all I need?”

“That’s it,” Dr. Pacini confirmed. “If the pain persists, or gets worse, then by all means come right back. But it’s quite unlikely given where your pain level is at now. Just give it a few days and remember to breathe.”

Ann took a deep breath. It wavered as she exhaled, making Shawn rub her back.

“See? You’re gonna be fine,” he told her reassuringly.

“As long as you take your pills,” Dr. Pacini said firmly. “These are what will keep your pain from coming back. The birth control will manage the PCOS and the progesterone will help shrink the cysts. You’re usually on top of this, Annalise, can I ask what happened in the last few months?”

She shrugged, clearing her throat. Shawn knew what that meant, and he debated answering for her.

“Being in the hospital didn’t do anything for my mental health, I think,” Ann spoke softly.

Dr. Pacini looked between her and Shawn. He nodded in confirmation, trying not to externally show how much his heart was aching. Of course, the doctor asked to elaborate, so Shawn explained the surgery, the almost-death, and the second surgery. It helped her understand, and it made Ann cry in the observation room.

“I see,” Dr. Pacini said as she nodded. “Post surgical depression is very common. Clinical depression on its own can cause you to not care for yourself the way I know you can. I can’t prescribe you anything because it’s not my area of expertise, but Annalise. Look at me.”

She wiped her face with her sleeve and sniffed, her puffy, reddened eyes meeting the doctor’s.

“You will come out of this.”

The silence was loud as Shawn and Ann left the clinic. Ann read the papers Dr. Pacini had given her over and over, brows scrunched in concentration. She only stopped to get back in the car and put on her seatbelt, clearly eager to get the hell out of here.

“You made it out okay,” Shawn gently told her.

“I still have to wait and see if the pain will go away,” she grumbled as she shoved the pages into her purse. “Just like last time.”

Shawn looked at her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Last time was different. I know you’re worried, but it doesn’t mean everything is going to repeat itself. Did you book an appointment with Callie?”

Ann was rubbing her hands together. “Yeah. I saw her last week and I’m going again tomorrow. That reminds me, I need to ask you something.”

“Anything.” Heart: racing.

Shifting in her seat, Ann sighed deeply. “Okay. I don’t expect you to remember, and it’s okay if you don’t, but do you know what antibiotics they gave me for the infection on my incisions?”

That wasn’t at all what Shawn was expecting. Then again, he had no idea what was happening with this girl lately. When did he ever?

He thought for a moment before answering. “I don’t know the name of it. I remember that it was so strong it made you nauseous. The nurses told you not to puke because then you’d be puking up the medicine. Then, they took you off your Prozac and birth control so you weren’t taking in so much at once. The priority was to control the infection.”

The memory was still heartbreaking. Ann, with her sunken eyes screwed shut, frequently wiggling her fingers and toes in an attempt to keep everything down. She didn’t want to be touched or even talked to. When that side effect wore off, it was time for another dose. It was probably torture for her. Shawn remembered telling her he was going to the cafeteria when in reality he just went to cry to his mom or dad over the phone in the bathroom.

Ann tilted her head in thought. “You remember all that?”

“You don’t?” Shawn asked. “You were like that for a good few days.”

The hand rubbing continued. “I guess it’s blocked out of my head because it was so traumatic. Anyway, I just wanted to know…” She inhaled shortly. “Because uh, Callie wanted to pinpoint um, when I stopped taking the Prozac…” She inhaled again, like she was out of breath.

Shawn noticed the sporadic movements and grew concerned. “You okay?”

Ann rapidly nodded her head, despite her short breathing. “Yeah, just… hospital talk. I, I don’t really like it but I have to talk about it. She, uh, she warned me. I’d get really - fuck - uh, the dam burst, basically.”

“It’s apart of the process.” Shawn nodded, remembering his own flood of tears when he did the work of therapy. “Hey, look at me.”

She shook her head, shoulders tense. Her voice came out low and shaky. “I can’t feel my hands.”

“Can I see?”

Her hand was trembling wildly as she shyly held it out to Shawn. He ran his thumb over her fingers, noticing her stubby chewed up nails and the tiniest speck of black polish on the index. Then, he squeezed the pressure point between her thumb and index.

Ann gasped and looked up at him.

“Felt that?” Shawn asked, and she nodded. “See, you’re okay. You’re a strong lady.”

“I’m a strong lady…”

He affectionately rubbed her hand in both of his, offering a smile. He figured it was best to distract from the scary feelings. “Remember what was happening a year ago? I took you out to that coffee shop.”

“I was nervous,” she mumbled.

“Me too. When I picked you up at your dorm, the first thing I noticed was your red eyeshadow and I thought… red is my new favorite color. I also noticed you didn’t wear the black lipstick, and I really hoped it meant that you were going to kiss me.”

Ann was already blushing from the anxiety attack, but she breathed out a tiny laugh. “I really wasn’t. The nude lip was because we were going to eat…”

“Well, I like to think that you wanted to kiss me. And you did in the end, even after you said you don’t kiss on the first date.” Shawn was tickling the palm of her hand now, running his fingers over every line.

“It was a ‘fuck it’ moment…” Ann was watching his fingers move, like it was helping her focus.

“It’s probably one of my favorite moments with you. Because then I got to know the most amazing, strongest, badass lady I’ve ever seen, and I got to call her mine.”

_______

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @ilsolee @mendesromano @1-800-khalid-mendussy @kitykatnumber @strangerliaa @iloveshawnieboi @poppyshawn @shawnsunflower @someoneunimportantxx @ruinhoney @shawnvvmendes @calyumthomas @yourdeflightfullyleft @havethetimeeofyourlifee @shawmndes @wronglanemendes @chillingbythesea @softmendesss @mutuallynotmutual

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes smut #shawn x goth gf #ngl i cried way too much at this shit #mainly bc im dealing with my own physical health #n tryin not to let my mental health deteriorate bc of it #this SUCKS man #im so tired n sad i want it to be over #just diagnose me or imma hackout my stomach #anyways thx for reading :))))

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