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johnnycranes · 3 years

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[reupload cuz i decided to post this chapter here as well since i met a lot of new people in the fc5 fandom recently <3]

next chapter of Some Kind of Second Chance is up. special shoutout to all my mutuals who tagged me in WIPs and to the amazing @desertvvitch who motivated me to post this thing!!

Whole thing is up on AO3

Word count: 3,364

Chapter 6: Revelations and Rifles

When Sydney came to, part of her hoped the hit she took to the head also knocked her memory back. But nope, still didn’t know who the voices in her head were.

She opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was a wall decorated with different pictures of the Seed family and of Eden’s Gate. Next thing she noticed was that she was sitting on the floor and her wrists were bound in front of her to a metal pipe, kept in place with a ziplock tie.

She looked down at herself and saw she was still dressed in the shorts and tank top she was in when she left her cabin, the only thing missing was her jacket.

Looking around a bit more, it didn’t appear to be like any of the cabins in the compound. More like the inside of a trailer house. Something glinted on the floor and Sydney realized there were shards of glass littered around the room of what looked like a small trailer. If she could just reach out for a sharp enough piece, she could find a way to cut open the ziplock tie.

Whoever took her clearly didn’t think this all the way through, practically handing her a means to escape.

Oh shit, or was this some kind of creepy Saw thing? Either way she wasn’t going to stick around to find out.

She stretched her leg and started pushing a few shards towards her with her foot. Thankfully her captors were also kind enough to leave her sneakers on.

Sydney was able to drag some shards close to her when she heard a door open. She hid the shards under her legs quickly as the footsteps of whoever arrived got louder.

Two men wearing Eden’s Gate clothes walked into the room, sneering at her as soon as they spotted her. They didn’t look like anyone she knew.

“Good morning, sunshine.” The one with long unruly hair said.

“So sorry if we kept ‘ya waitin.” The bald one said.

Sydney shook her head. “Oh not at all. Just woke up actually. Comfy floor here.”

“The fuck?” Long-hair asked.

“You have any idea why you’re here, girlie?” bald one asked, and Sydney assumed he was trying to sound intimidating.

“Why bother? You’re gonna explain it to me anyway ri-”

The bald one slammed the butt of his rifle onto her knee. She groaned in pain, but made sure not to lift her leg so much as to make sure the glass was still hidden.

Hopefully they leave her alone again so she could escape.

It was safe to assume these two were part of the group of soldiers who didn’t like her. So Sydney’s only other option of getting out was someone in the compound noticing she was missing, unless of course the two idiots who captured her were actually smart enough to cover their tracks.

How long was she out? All she could tell from the light coming in from the window was that it was daytime.

“You have the guts to speak to us like that? After all you did, sinner.” Long-hair snarled the last word at her.

Sydney rolled her eyes. “Like I said, still waiting for you to fucking explain.” As far as she was concerned, they could even be Resistance agents in disguise who waited for the perfect chance to strike.

But then again, why target her and not the Seed family?

“You think yer so clever, fooling even the Father with yer fake amnesia bullshit.” Bald guy said.

Sydney huffed out a dry laugh. “Trust me, I wish it was fake. Maybe then I’ll know why you two assholes are pulling stupid shit like this.”

“Enough!” Long-hair yelled. “How dare you. How dare you think we can just accept you into our family, attend sermons with us, all because you supposedly forgot.”

“I did.” Sydney emphasized. “You can ask the doctor, he-”

“You just don’t forget the people you killed!”

Sydney froze.

She what?

The silence was deafening and that’s when the voices attacked. Screams, cries, incoherent shouts, gunshots, explosions, fires. They all invaded her mind.

Her blood ran cold, her hands started shaking and her head was throbbing.

She couldn’t freak out, not now. She tried to keep her breathing under control, long enough to ask, “What?” but it came out so pathetic and soft that she wasn’t surprised when they cackled at her.

Long-hair walked in circles around the room as he narrowed his eyes at her. “Killed. Put a bullet in their heads, threw dynamite at them, hell even cracked open their skulls with a fucking shovel!” He stopped in front of her and tightened his fists. “They were my friends! They gave their lives to protect the Father from you. And now he claims you’ll protect us?”

His fist collided with her cheek. He hit hard but it was better than him using the butt of his rifle.

Or actually shooting her with said rifle.

Sydney slowly turned her head back to face them, ignoring the throbbing in her cheek. She could thank him, actually. At least it distracted her enough to calm down a bit.

There were still so many questions she wanted to ask, but asking her captors may not be the greatest idea.

Their friends? So she killed people from the Project?

She instantly thought of Elena, Trevor and Benjamin.

Who did she kill? Why did she kill? And if she did kill people from Eden’s Gate, why was Joseph okay with her staying on?

Then she remembered the Father’s words the day she arrived at the compound.

So now you shall atone.

Oh fuck. Is that what she was atoning for?

He struck her again. “You are a sinner unworthy of joining us at Eden’s Gate! We will avenge our fallen brothers and sisters, we wi-”

“That’s enough, Kevin.” the bald one said as Kevin punched her once more, on the same cheek and Sydney had to spit blood out.

Kevin backed away from her to face his companion. “She deserves a lot more punishment for everyone she’s killed, Norm. You know that.”

Norm sighed. “We got lucky capturing her when we did. But people will wonder where she is soon so we gotta kill her now.”

Even though her face stung and she had to blink a few times for her vision to steady, she was conscious enough to hear what they said. Sydney knew she was running out of time. If she wanted to escape, she had to do it quickly.

With both her captors distracted and turned away from her, she shifted her legs, feeling the cool glass underneath as she inched them closer to her wrists. She dragged her hands down the pipe and closer to the floor, slowly so as to not get their attention.

Some of the shards cut the inside of her leg but it didn’t matter. She could bandage them up when she was free. She couldn’t bandage a bullet hole to the brain.

Sydney finally got one shard close enough to her hands. She stretched her fingers to grab it and fiddled with it as quickly and as subtly as possible.

Thankfully Kevin and Norm were still busy arguing.

“It’s not enough to just kill her and get it over with!” Kevin yelled. “She showed no remorse, so why should we?”

“Because if they catch us we-”

“Rook! Rook, you here?” All three of them froze when they heard a voice from outside the trailer.

Sydney didn’t know whether to feel relieved or frightened when she recognized it as Benjamin’s voice. She couldn’t just scream for help. What if he didn’t have a weapon with him? What if they shot him first? Or shoot her then him?

She hid the broken glass in her hand, closing it in a fist.

“Shit. I told you we shoulda killed her right away, Kev!” Norm hissed.

“Shut the fuck up and let me think!”

Benjamin yelled again. “C’mon, Rook. You better not have left the island.” His voice sounded closer that time.

Kevin took two shallow breaths and gripped his rifle tightly. “All right new plan. We kill ‘im both.”

Fuck this wasn’t good.

Sydney chanced using the shard again. She needed to get rid of them before they hurt her and Benjamin.

“What?” Norm whispered nervously.

“He’s gonna come in regardless.” Kevin said. “I’ll shoot ‘im soon as he opens the door. Then we shoot her. Ain’t that what you wanted?”

Norm shook his head. “We don’t kill our own, brother.”

“I’m the one doin’ the work. I’ll be the one to accept atonement for this. Now stay here, keep your gun on ‘er.”

Kevin left the room quietly… on his way to kill her friend.

Something inside Sydney snapped.

She saw visions of herself breaking necks and cracking bones. She couldn’t see the faces of those she killed, but there were so many. She could easily kill Norm now, free herself with the broken glass then slice his neck open or stab him in the vocal cords.

She knew she could do it. Then she could shoot Kevin easily right before he got to Benjamin.

She could.

But she wouldn’t.

If she was a killer before- and by the sudden wave of images that invaded her head, she really was - she wasn’t one now.

Norm wasn’t focused on her, instead staring out the room probably at Kevin, looking like a nervous wreck. And to think he took a cheap shot to her knee just a while ago.

Sydney took that chance to finally cut through the ziptie. She didn’t waste any time and went straight for a still fidgeting and panicking Norm.

No killing.

So she stabbed his hand with the broken shard before he could react and fight back. He screamed as he dropped his rifle and Sydney grabbed it.

She heard Kevin yell ‘What the hell!’ from out in the corridor but she ignored it. Too busy getting her revenge on Norm by slamming his head with the butt of his own rifle, effectively knocking him out.

She took cover by the wall beside the open doorframe and yelled “Benjamin you better have your damn gun with you!” at the top of her lungs.

“Rook?!” Benjamin called from outside.

Then she instinctively ducked her head when bullets whizzed by her. “You fucking bitch!” Kevin screamed over the gunshots.

She checked the ammo of her own gun and thanked Norm for having it fully loaded.

If Kevin was still inside the trailer, that meant Benjamin was safe. And she had to make sure that didn’t change.

“Stay where you are, Ben!” Sydney screamed over another hail of bullets.

“What the hell’s happening?” was his reply.

Kevin cackled, his footsteps getting closer. “Like you care what happens to my brothers and sisters. I’ll make sure you don’t hurt anyone else!”

Sydney gripped the rifle tight, and after taking a deep breath, she moved out of cover and saw Kevin with his gun aimed right at her.

Jacob’s voice rang in her head.

‘You’ve been a damn good shot since you got to Hope County.’

She shot Kevin once, in the hand close to his rifle’s trigger. Kevin dropped his gun, yelping in pain.

Sydney slammed her rifle onto one of his legs, causing him to fall over.

She stood above him, keeping her rifle aimed. She kicked Kevin’s own weapon away as he groaned in pain on the floor.

“Finish me off then. Release that Wrath within you.” He pointed at the tattoo on her chest weakly.

“Shut up.” she hissed.

“You can’t run from your past, sinner. You ca-”

She put the rifle away to bend over and punch him hard in the face, knocking him out. There, now she paid them both back for what they did to her.

Sydney stepped back until she felt a wall behind her and slumped down, taking deep breaths.

Her adrenaline rush was slowly fading and she could feel the stinging pain on her face again and how her wrists were sore from being tied up for God knows how long.

She heard a door slam open followed by hurried footsteps. She looked up and saw Benjamin, his pistol out.

“Rook?” he asked softly.

If Kevin and Norm were telling the truth and she did kill people from the Project, maybe everyone else probably knew. And the scene in front of Benjamin probably looked suspicious, what with her being the only one conscious among the three people inside.

“They kidnapped me. They were gonna shoot you so I escaped, knocked them out and-”

“Whoa whoa whoa, easy Rook.” Benjamin placed his gun back in his holster and raised his arms up peacefully. “I know you didn’t have anythin’ to do with this.”

Sydney could only nod stiffly, grateful to her friend. “How’d you know to look for me?”

Benjamin placed his hands back down, and knelt beside her. “Elena got worried when you didn’t show up for breakfast this morning. She went to your cabin to check in on ya but you weren’t there. She asked me to help look for ya.”

He turned to Kevin then back at her, smirking. “Though it looks like you didn’t need my help.”

“What time is it?”

“A little past nine in the mornin’.”

She rubbed her sore wrists. Ok so she wasn’t out for long. Bless Elena’s kind heart for worrying over her. Sydney made a mental note to hug the old woman the next time she saw her.

“Let’s get you outta here, Rook.” Benjamin said, standing from his seat. “Need to get some ice for yer face.”

She frowned and looked over at Kevin. “What about him? And his friend in the room over there?”

“Pfft, assholes’re outcold. I’ll send somebody to get ‘im when we get back.”

Which reminded her, “Where are we exactly?”

“Still on the Father’s island. We’re in a little trailer not too far from the compound.”

Sydney laughed dryly. “How the fuck did those two even sneak me out of there?”

“Bah, prolly while everyone was attending the early sermon. Jacob’s right, we got great guards but anyone could pass through if they knew what our church schedules are, dammit.”

Sydney lifted her head up hearing the redhead’s name. “Does Jacob know? That I was gone?”

Benjamin sighed. “No, not yet. The plan was to tell him if I didn’t find you around the island. Luckily these two idiots were too afraid to stray far.”

Part of her was relieved that Jacob didn’t know. It meant she had time to process this new information by herself first. If he were the one who found her, she might’ve exploded and demanded answers from him. What were he and Joseph hiding from her? Why were they hiding it from her?

Sydney took one more deep breath before carefully standing up, mindful of the small cuts she still had on her legs from the glass. She strapped the rifle to her shoulder and brushed her hair away from her face.

She nodded at Benjamin and placed a hand on his shoulder as he helped her stand. “Thanks, Benjamin. For not accusing me of attacking them. Wasn’t sure what you’d think when you walked in and saw two bodies on the floor.”

Benjamin chuckled. “Aww hell, Rook! I got your back, I know you ain’t gonna hurt any of our own, unlike the two fools you knocked out.”

She smiled tiredly at him before heading out of the trailer, Benjamin following behind her.

Outside, there were two Eden’s Gate trucks. She found her jacket in what was probably Kevin and Norm’s vehicle.

Benjamin guided her to the passenger seat of the other truck before getting into the driver’s seat himself.

He started the engine before turning to her and softly saying, “Hey, I don’t know what those two said to you but, you’re a good person, Rook. We know you’re atoning.”

Sydney let out a short sob, willing herself not to cry. She nodded, keeping her eyes on the road in front of her.

And because she didn’t trust her voice not to crack, she simply said, “Thank you.”

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

It was a short drive back to the compound. Benjamin insisted she visit the infirmary first while he went to find Elena.

The doctor informed her nothing was broken. He gave her an ice pack for the swelling on her face to go down and disinfected the cuts on her legs. Thankfully the punches she took weren’t that strong, she only had a few bruises that should be gone in a day.

Elena practically busted the infirmary doors open, her eyes frantic until she spotted Sydney. The old woman looked like she was about to cry, hugging Sydney tightly. Sydney couldn’t help but hug her back, thanking her for being one of the reasons she was able to escape.

When the doctor was done assessing her, Sydney was free to go.

“You need me to stay with you, hun? Just ‘til you fall asleep?” Elena offered as they walked back to Sydney’s cabin.

Sydney shook her head. “That’s very kind of you to offer but I’ll be fine, thank you. You’ve done more than enough for me, already.”

“Oh hush girl! Like I said, we’re family. Then I’ll be back later to drop off your lunch. You just lie down and get your rest.”

“Thank you, that’d be great.”

They went their separate ways and Sydney saw her cabin in front of her.

She would’ve been relieved if not for Jacob leaning on the door.

She felt her heart sink. As much as she wanted to talk to him about what happened, she needed time to go over her thoughts first, untangle the memories that had begun to resurface.

Sydney stopped right in front of Jacob, who stared down at her intensely.

“You look like shit.” he simply said.

“It looks worse than it feels.”

He brought his hand up to move the hair away from her face, surprising her. He whistled as he looked over the swelling. “Damn, that’s still gotta sting though.”

Her chest tightened as Jacob casually and gently touched her, staring at her with those piercing blue eyes of his that sparkled when he genuinely laughed.

Funny how just a few hours ago, she did see them sparkle and she heard that wonderful laugh of his that made her smile when she and Jacob were talking over glasses of milk.

Then she got kidnapped, found out she was a killer and they didn’t tell her.

She turned her head slightly and Jacob paused before putting his hand back down. “The doc said I should be fine by tomorrow.”

He was still blocking her way and Sydney was about to politely ask him to step aside when he suddenly said, “The guys that took you, they-”

“I didn’t kill them.” she hissed.

“Hey, relax. I know. Your friend Benjamin told me.”

“Then can I go? I wanna get out of these dirty clothes already.”

“Look, Sydney I just-”

“Not now just… not now.” Sydney said softly, hoping he wouldn’t push her further. She didn’t feel like exploding in front of Jacob and the whole compound.

She needed to be alone with her thoughts, settle the crazy mess in her head first.

Jacob sighed heavily before finally moving out of her way. “At least get somethin’ to eat.”

His arm brushed hers as he passed her. She didn’t look back at him as she entered her cabin and closed the door behind her. Ironic how the last time they parted ways, it was a completely different mood.

Sydney took a quick shower to wash all the dirt and blood off of her before putting on some clean underwear and dressing in an oversized white shirt with the Project’s logo on it.

Her cheeks and jaw began to throb painfully and she patted them with the ice pack she was given. She stared up at the ceiling and allowed herself to process what she learned earlier, hoping the voices in her head would cooperate.

#jacob x sydney #jacob seed #deputy sydney williams #far cry 5 #far cry #jacob x female deputy #my writing #my fic

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largedenominationsplease · 4 years

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you’d come over, right?

Summary: A year after Kiara and JJ broke up, they come home to the Outer Banks to deal with one of the hardest years of their lives.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: swearing, canon-compliant smoking, au, minor character death, cancer, current events

A/N: Alternate Universe: JJ and Kiara dated seriously for a long while, but over a year before this story, they parted ways. Set in present-day with current events, but most current events are only mentioned briefly for context. All characters aged 21+. Partially inspired by If the World Was Ending by JP Saxe and Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi and current events and Sad Feels™ and a sad playlist my sister made. Come cry with me... also on ao3

Shoutout to @alexandracheers for proofreading <3

Sometimes even the most beautiful things die. It’s the sad cycle of life.

It starts with a spark, a first touch, a first look, a first kiss;

a few embers of warmth, holding hands, secret glances, flirty texts;

the roaring flames of passion, clinging to one another, leaving the party early, tangled limbs and tangled sheets;

then the steady heat of a well-tended fire, cozy mornings making coffee, binging your favorite shows, texting to see how your day is.

But, sometimes, even the most loved and cared for fires die. They go out with little warning or reason. What was a welcome flame in the hearth one night may be a bed of ash by morning.

Their fire died a long time ago. It wasn’t anyone’s fault - no one was trying to douse the flames - it just went out. When they sat down and discussed breaking up - parting ways was a more apropos term - she hadn’t even cried. When he packed up and moved out, it was unceremonious. He even kissed her forehead as he left, like he’d done a hundred times before, only this time he wasn’t coming back.

She still dreamed about him. Sometimes unbidden images of picket fences and a dog and home-cooked meals and potted plants intruded upon her thoughts. Once, when her period was late, she’d even dreamt of a curly-haired little boy with blue eyes - which was ridiculous because she was very single at the time. Did she even want to have kids?

He thought about her, too. Each new destination she traveled to brought new Instagram posts and awakened an ache in his chest he couldn’t quite place. That ache deepened when she revisited places they had gone together - unwanted memories flooding his senses. The smell of coconut still sent him spinning, missing the feeling of running his fingers through her hair, over the smooth skin of her arms and legs.

What hurt so badly about their fire dying wasn’t that it died. What hurt was that it should never have died; that it died so quietly and suddenly; that one day it was there, burning bright, and the next it was a cold gray heap of coals.

Even their friends were surprised when he moved back home. “Where is she?” and “What happened?” and “We had no idea you had any problems.”

Followed by the futile response of, “It was just time to move on.”

And they did move on, eventually. She traveled to forget and perhaps after a few months she could call herself truly happy - though there was always an ache of not having someone to share each experience with. He stayed at home, but he opened his own business and the familiarity of home soothed any wounds he sustained. Their fire might have gone out, but they kept the bed of ash in the fireplace, a shrine to what they once had, and it was more comforting than sad after a time.

When the virus first hit, she’d been back in the states, on the West Coast. She messaged him:

Are you safe? Still have a job? Anyone sick?

Fine for now. You?

Fine.

When the protesting started, he knew she’d be in the thick of it. Not that he didn’t get involved, he just knew her passion for people and justice. He messaged her back this time:

You’re protesting, aren’t you? Are you safe?

Of course! But I’m being careful. You?

Staying safe. Protesting here, too.

Hurricane Isaias wasn’t meant to be a bad storm, but she had still tracked it up the East Coast. Her suspicions were confirmed when it intensified.

Isaias didn’t wipe y’all out, did it?

No, blew through pretty quick. The Cut took a hit. Gonna take some time to fix it up.

At first, after reading the headlines about the fires out west, he thought it was a joke. As they spread, he realized how serious it was and it worried him.

You evacuated, right? The air quality is shit where you are.

Yep. Gonna take a pandemic-friendly tour of some national parks further east.

Every new development meant more messages sent. Simple little check-ins that meant nothing and everything. It was a scary year the world faced, and even after all those months apart, the only thing they wanted was to find comfort in one another’s safety. On opposite ends of the country, the two of them tied together by current events and the memory of their relationship.

Mid-September, while she was traveling away from the fires on the West Coast, he got a call from her mother. He hadn’t spoken to her mother much since they had broken up, over a year ago, but she still liked his Instagram posts and struck up conversations when she saw him around town.

“Hey, Mrs. Anna.”

“Hi, JJ. I’ve told you, it’s just Anna.” Her voice was soft and as kind as ever, but held an edge of tiredness and strain he hadn’t heard from her before. “We have some… tough news, and we wanted you to hear it from us first.”

Colon cancer…

Kiara’s hearing faded into white noise as her mother spoke those words to her through the phone. Her mother went on to explain that even though they caught it late, the doctors were optimistic that her father would make a recovery. Treatments were set to start right away.

“Mom, I’m coming home.”

“Honey, we know you’ve got traveling plans. We’ll be fine. We don’t want to interrupt your-”

“Mom, I can’t do much traveling with this virus. Dad is more important than any of that, anyway. I’m coming home.”

JJ cried when Anna hung up the phone. Mike was rough around the edges, and he was resistant to Kiara dating a Maybank, but once JJ won him over, he treated him like a son. Hearing this news was a punch to the gut - it was like losing a father. Even in the midst of his sadness he knew Kiara would be sent into a tailspin.

Hey. You okay?

She was typing in response, then nothing. He waited, seeing the little bubble pop up again and again and fade away each time. And then she videocalled. She hadn’t called him in months - not since they parted ways. The little screen showed her in her car, only illuminated by her dim phone screen and the passing street lights. Tears stained her cheeks, but she kept her eyes trained on the road. “I’m not okay.”

“You’re driving right now?”

“I’m coming home.”

“Kiara, pull over. It’s late. Get some sleep.”

“I can’t. They caught it late - he might… who knows how much time I have-”

“Kie.” His voice was soft. He was always soft toward her.

Her face crumpled as the tears fell fresh. He let her cry. He talked to her about nothing and everything as her tears subsided. She cried as she drove through the night, talking to him when she was calm, crying harder when the conversation lulled. She didn’t stop until she noticed he’d fallen asleep, the video call still rolling. It was after four in the morning. The pang of nostalgia that tore through her was enough to make her catch her breath. They hadn’t talked like that since they first started dating. A few tears sneaked out of the corners of her eyes, but she couldn’t tell if the memories or the fear of the future caused them. She found a safe place to park and fell into a fitful sleep in the back of her car.

She made it home just in time for her dad’s first surgery. JJ met her and her mother at the hospital parking lot, all masks and six-feet of distance until she said, “I could really use a hug.” The three of them colliding into a group hug within seconds.

JJ made sure the Carreras didn’t need anything as Mike went through chemo and more and more hospital stays. He ran errands for them since none of them could risk going out and bringing anything home. He did yard work since Mike hated an unkept lawn. Kiara always made sure to leave him snacks and drinks on the back deck as the North Carolina heat stretched into October. Aside from that, he willingly put himself at Anna’s beck and call. Anything and everything she needed done, he jumped at the opportunity to help. He would even come over in the evenings to play cards with Mike - masks included. Kiara’s heart ached as she watched her parents get along with him so well. She hadn’t realized how far he had wormed his way into their little family, but here they were, acting as though nothing had changed between him and their daughter, loving him like a son. He praised her mom’s cooking until she blushed and there were times he could make her dad laugh so hard they all forgot for a moment that cancer existed. Those moments were fleeting and oh-so cherished.

Mike deteriorated quickly. It made Kiara sick to see her father become a cancer-wasted shell of himself. As optimistic as the doctors had been originally, the treatments weren’t taking well. As chemo wrapped up, his numbers were still dangerously high. November brought another emergency surgery that confirmed their worst fears. Mike moved home. They were told all that was left was to manage the pain and make him as comfortable as they could. They had perhaps a month left. JJ moved into the guest room to be as close as possible in case anything was needed from him. The four of them were left waiting as Thanksgiving approached.

Kiara wasn’t sleeping. Maybe it was knowing her ex-boyfriend was staying down the hall from her, though that was an odd thing to focus on. More likely, it was the fact that her father was passing away right before her eyes, slipping through her fingers as she stood by, helpless. The sun had set hours ago, and she sat with a now-cold cup of tea in front of her at the kitchen table, mulling over each crazy event that had led her to this point.

JJ wandered into the kitchen, opening the fridge to inspect the contents. “What are you doing up so late?” he asked.

“I could ask you the same thing.” The words came out harsher than she had intended, but then again, she was exhausted in every single sense of the term.

JJ brushed off her roughness. “Hungry. Did you eat dinner?” He knew she hadn’t, so he set about making an extra sandwich.

After a few moments of silence, Kiara whispered, “It’s all my fault.”

“What?”

“It’s my fault,” she repeated, her lip trembling. “I always kept track of his appointments for him. He was always shit at remembering to go to the doctor. He should have had one last year, but I didn’t come home and I didn’t remind him. If I hadn’t broken up with you, I would have been here to remind him to go.” Tears shone in her eyes and on her cheeks.

JJ gave her a quizzical look, deciphering what she was saying. “I seem to recall being the one who left. But really none of this is anyone’s fault,” he kept his voice even, wanting nothing more than to hug her, to wipe away all the tears, and make sure she never had to shed another one again.

“I know, I know, it’s ridiculous, but it’s what keeps running through my head.” She reached up and readjusted the messy bun that her hair was falling out of. “But, for the record, I asked you to leave.” JJ raised an eyebrow as she said this, as though he didn’t believe her. The truth was, neither of them really remembered who had dumped who or why he had left in the first place. Nothing happened that they couldn’t work out with a little bit of effort. “Didn’t I?” she faltered.

He shrugged. “I don’t remember.”

“We just fought a lot, didn’t we?”

“Constantly. You were a bitch.”

She turned to him, mouth open. She slapped at his shoulder, “I know you did not just call me a bitch, bitch!”

He smirked at her. “Maybe you weren’t that bad. Apparently, I was a slob.”

“You are a slob,” she chuckled. Then she sighed and moved to heat up her tea. “But that’s no reason to dump someone. We just… fell out of love, I guess.”

“I didn’t.” His voice was so soft he was barely even sure he had spoken. Based on the way Kiara froze, her back tense, he’d definitely said those private thoughts aloud.

She turned slowly, her face pale with lack of sleep and - something else. Was that anger? Or sadness? “You’ve had more than a year to confess something like that to me, and you choose now?”

JJ shrugged helplessly, unsure of what to say.

“That was the issue all along, wasn’t it?” Kiara’s voice shook, but she kept her tone cool, even. “You wouldn’t communicate with me.”

“Oh, come on, Kie, that’s not fair.” It was too late for a fight. They were both tired and emotional. This wouldn’t end well.

“What’s not fair?” Her voice had started to rise in volume and pitch as her anger increased. She wasn’t even sure why she was angry in the first place, but something about JJ’s confession caused her blood to boil. “The fact that you didn’t admit you still loved me when you left over a year ago? Or the fact that you choose to admit that to me while I’m exhausted and emotionally compromised?”

“Don’t be like that! That’s not what I’m doing.” JJ tried to keep his voice lower than hers, so they wouldn’t wake Mike or Anna, but the way her eyes flashed told him that wouldn’t happen. He grabbed her bicep and led her out to the backyard.

“Let go of me!” She pulled away from him, trying to hide the shiver that ran up her spine in the cool November evening air. “You don’t get to manhandle me and manipulate me into falling back into your arms like nothing happened.”

“That’s not-“ JJ ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. “You know I’m shit at communicating this stuff.”

“At saying ‘I love you?’ At being emotionally present? Listen, I know your dad was fucked up and he fucked you up, but you’re a grown-ass man now. You could have learned how to be there for me!”

“Don’t bring him into this!” They’d had this fight a million times before. The recurring theme of their demise being communication. Their fire had been sputtering under the faulty system they had in place long before they realized what their problems were - it was something neither of them wanted to admit. “Fuck it, Kie, even if I had wanted to get any better at communicating, you were no help. You held every single one of my mistakes over my head. There was no road to redemption for you.”

“No, no that’s not true. I tried to help you-“

“Only telling me what I did wrong wasn’t helpful.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again, stuttering in anger. “Well… if you still loved me so much, why did you leave?”

“Why stay when I knew you didn’t love me anymore?” JJ’s voice dropped and he avoided eye contact with her.

Her eyes grew wide in realization. “You know what? Fuck you! I loved you until the day you left. If I had known you weren’t coming back I would have fought harder to keep you with me, and if you’re too dense to see-” He cut her words off, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her roughly. She melted into him, a single tear squeezing itself from her eye. He tasted of a coconut flavored vape pod and nicotine and the sea. He was just as stupid and lovely as ever. It only lasted a moment before she shoved at his chest, clearing her throat and turning from him to hide the blush rising to her cheeks.

“I’m… I’m seeing someone,” she muttered by way of explanation.

“Oh.” JJ licked his lips, missing her more than he had before he kissed her. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know. Who is it? Why aren’t they here?” He hadn’t meant to add that last part, but he was curious. Who could she be seeing that wouldn’t support her during all of this? Who could she want to be with that wasn’t there, like he was?

“Um, her name’s Fern. I asked her not to come. I didn’t want her to meet my dad this way.” She started to walk toward the door, wrapping her arms around herself in the cold November evening air.

“Kie,” JJ called after her. She turned slightly, to catch his eye out of the corner of her own. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything… I fucked a lot of things up. And I’m sorry about your dad.”

She nodded. “Me too.” With everything, she added mentally, and he knew she had.

Kiara and JJ wordlessly promised each other that they wouldn't let their differences ruin the upcoming holidays. So Thanksgiving passed uneventfully. It was almost a normal Carrera family holiday, besides the fact that Anna and JJ did most of the cooking. Mike tried once or twice to wander into the kitchen, but he didn’t make it long before having to sit back down. Kiara made him comfortable on the couch and they watched what little football was playing. She was sure to commentate on each play alongside him. The four of them ate extreme amounts of food, and laughed and played games. “Tomorrow we go get our Christmas tree,” Mike announced at the end of the night. Kiara bit her lip and glanced at JJ. He shrugged half-heartedly.

“That’s right, baby,” Anna replied, looking meaningfully at the others.

And they did. They didn’t travel to the mountains, like other years, but they did go down to the local tree lot. Kiara made a big fuss about finding the fattest tree and over-scrutinized each one until she found the perfect Christmas tree, just like always. JJ had spent holidays with the Carrera’s before, but he had never been so intimately involved in all of their traditions. He thought Christmas might just become his favorite holiday at this rate.

The weeks leading to Christmas weren’t all smooth sailing. Just a few days after Thanksgiving Mike was confined almost exclusively to a hospital bed in the living room. A nurse moved in a few days after that. He slept fitfully if he slept at all, and most days, the pain (or the pain medication) kept him from interacting with the rest of them. Kie would read to him in the evenings, starting with A Christmas Carol. He fell asleep after only a few paragraphs each time, so it took a long while to get through the story. All four of them watched classic Christmas movie after classic Christmas movie - many of which JJ hadn’t ever seen (to which Anna always replied, “That’s going on our list, then!”). Mike managed to stay awake for the entirety of Elf, his favorite.

Christmas day was quiet. JJ cooked breakfast for everyone, and Anna gushed about how good his cooking had gotten. They had opted not to exchange gifts this holiday, instead filling their stockings with all their favorite candies and snacks. It had been JJ’s idea, and Kiara thought he might have been a secret genius for suggesting it. In the afternoon, Fern called Kie and they talked for over an hour. JJ thought she looked satisfied when she returned, but nowhere near as happy as one should be when they got off a long conversation with their girlfriend. It was probably just the current circumstances. She didn’t say anything other than, “What’s the next movie, Dad?”

Mike died two days after Christmas. He went in his sleep, which was exactly what he had wanted. No fuss, no doctors trying desperately to save him. Just a good night’s sleep where he peacefully breathed his last. He didn’t look the same as he once had. Cancer had changed him so drastically, his once strong imposing frame a mere shadow of its former glory. But his face was smoothed out, lines of pain, grief, and illness wiped away, leaving simply peace. He could have been asleep, but now he would never wake up. Looking at him, Kiara felt like she was drowning. Like every breath she fought to take just filled her lungs with more and more water. Her dad was her rock, and now she was sinking in a wide, dark ocean. She thought she might never breathe again.

The funeral was tiny - it was only close family that attended - three days after he passed. The sky was clear and blue and the air was cold, typical North Carolina winter. It had snowed the day before, just a bit, so the ground was frozen and white. It could have been beautiful if it wasn’t so heartbreaking. Anna didn’t cry that day. She said she had cried enough. The snow started falling again that evening, once they got home, and she said that was Mike’s way of telling her he loved her. She loved the snow.

JJ went back home the day after the New Year. Anna told him to stay as long as he wanted, but he said it was time for him to move on. She understood, hugged him tightly before he went, admonishing him to come around often. He said he would, and promised to help with anything she needed around the house, too. Kiara sat huddled on the front porch in a rocking chair, wrapped in a thick blanket with a cup of hot cocoa as he walked out. “You’re not going to say goodbye?” he teased kindly.

She looked up at him, her eyes still bloodshot and sorrowful. He wanted to hold her. He wished she had never had to go through any of this. She didn’t deserve it. “I don’t know what to say,” she said. “You’ve done so much for us.”

JJ shook his head. “It was selfish. I thought if I was nearby maybe it wouldn’t happen.”

“It was anything but selfish,” She insisted, standing up and wrapping the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She placed a cold hand on his cheek. “Really, J. We couldn’t have made it through any of this without you.”

JJ might have leaned too deeply into her touch, no matter how cold her hands were. It somehow felt colder when she moved away. He cleared his throat. “So what’re your plans now? Getting back on the road?”

“Not until spring. Mom won’t admit it, but she’s not ready to be alone. She’ll need some help coping. And honestly, I’m not itching to leave.”

“I thought you’d wanna skip out as soon as possible. Doesn’t Fern miss you?”

She squinted her eyes but didn’t say anything in response. “I’ll miss having you around, Maybank.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll still be around. I think your mom will institute Sunday dinners or some shit if I don’t come over regularly.”

Kie chuckled. “She really loves you. Dad does - did, too.” Her voice broke slightly.

“I love them, too,” JJ said, honestly. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before picking up his bags and leaving. Kiara caught her breath as his lips brushed her skin, warmth spreading from where he made contact. Her wide eyes stayed glued to his figure as he loaded up his truck and drove away.

If normal could be achieved after a year like the Carrera women had experienced, they worked their hardest to achieve it. Anna threw herself into caring for the Wreck and it had the best off-season it had had in years. Kiara wrote songs and worked alongside her mother and even took some online classes. Anna did indeed institute Sunday dinners with JJ and he came to as many of them as he could. Life was slow to move forward, but Kie and Anna kept each other afloat, reminding themselves that Mike wouldn’t have wanted them to sit still crying over him. Step by step they picked up the pieces of their lives.

Things went along this way for a couple months or so. The world was calming down, but not fully quiet yet - when was the world ever quiet? Kiara never thought she could enjoy the quiet slow life that was the Outer Banks during the off-season, but after the year she’d had, she wanted nothing more than simple domesticity. She said as much during one of their Sunday dinners, enticing a knowing smile from her mother and a surprising lack of eye contact from JJ. She cornered him on the back deck when he’d stepped out to smoke. She was grateful they had regained some of the ease their friendship had carried when they were younger. “Okay, what was that all about?”

He chewed on his lip, twisting his cigarette between his fingers. He’d given up weed a while back when they were traveling, out of necessity, but she was secretly glad he’d never taken it up again. “I’m leaving,” he said abruptly.

“Leaving? Going where?”

“Not sure yet. My cousin’s gonna watch the shop for me. Travel the states for a bit until it’s safer to leave the country. Then Mexico? Maybe.”

“When will you be back?”

He shrugged, “Don’t know. Not for a long time.”

“Why?” Her mouth had gone dry and her words had run out. JJ was a die-hard salt-lifer. He might pack up and leave occasionally, but the Outer Banks was home, where he belonged. She thought that no matter where he went, he’d always end up back here. Home. How could he leave now?

He turned to look at her, urgency and honesty shining in his eyes. “I know he was your dad, and I probably don’t have the right to feel this way, but I…”

“You lost him, too,” she said, understanding.

“Need a change of scenery.” He shrugged again, putting out his cigarette before walking back inside.

Kiara understood better than most the need to keep moving, the change of scenery a welcome distraction. Traveling alone left a lot of time to think and soul-search. She didn’t peg JJ as the soul-searching type, but grief changed people; he needed time. She could support him in that.

“You’re going with him, right?” Anna asked sternly as she and her daughter washed dishes that evening. JJ had just left.

“What?” Kiara nearly dropped the plate she was drying.

“JJ told me all about his plans. Getting out of here for a while will be good for him!” She waved a hand over her shoulder, dismissing Kiara’s shocked expression. “He talks to me, too, you know? Always has.”

Kiara chuckled lightly, “So even though he and I broke up, he never broke up with y’all?”

“You shouldn’t have broken up with him.”

Kiara’s heart stopped for a moment, as she processed what her mother had said. “What do you mean?” She started slowly. “I thought you didn’t approve of me dating someone from the Cut.”

Anna sighed, setting down a half-washed pan. She turned to her daughter. “Your dad and I always wanted what was best for you. We thought that meant college, a solid career, marrying up. But we realized recently that that is never what life’s about.” She reached out and took Kiara’s hands, tears starting to shine in her eyes. “Your dad was from the Cut. When we first got married, we had nothing except each other but being with him was the best decision I ever made. He made me happy. I think I made him happy, too.”

“You definitely made him happy, Mom. But JJ and I fought all the time, we couldn’t sort things out.”

Anna scoffed, “Your dad and I fought, too. Fights happen, but you have to realize you’re not fighting each other, you’re a team fighting the problem. Once you figure that out, you can work through anything.”

Kiara shook her head, but she had a soft smile on her lips. “Mom, I just don’t know.”

Anna smiled, tearfully. “That is what life’s about. Nobody knows! What really matters is who is there to walk with you in the unknown. Who is there for you when you need them? Through the good and the bad. Your dad was that person for me.” She paused and looked at Kiara meaningfully, “So I’ll ask again: are you going with him?”

She shouldn’t, but while considering all of this somehow she felt freer. Her father had just died, she should still be mourning him, and yet she knew that he wouldn’t want her to wallow - she had to pick herself up. You knew this was coming, she heard his voice in her head. She hoped she would never forget what that voice sounded like. You knew I was going. Now that I’m gone, you’re free to live your life again. Live it, Kiara.

JJ finished buying his ticket for the ferry. It was cold out, more snow on its way. He had some time to kill before loading up his truck, but not much. He double-checked the straps on his luggage in the bed of the truck and was just beginning to contemplate how to pass the time when he heard his name being called. He turned to see Kiara running toward him, backpack bouncing wildly on her back. She was all flushed cheeks and shining eyes and curls tumbling around her shoulders.

“I broke up with Fern,” her words came out in a rush as she drew near him before he could even greet her. “I broke up with her months ago.”

“O-okay,” JJ replied, heart pounding. A million thoughts ran through his mind. He had just seen Kiara, why hadn’t she mentioned it then? Or before then? Why had she come all the way here to tell him that?

“And I’m coming with you,” she continued.

“What?” JJ wasn’t one to be lost for words, but he couldn’t say anything else.

“You make me happy. When the world went to shit you were the one person I wanted to know was safe. You were there for me and my whole family in the darkest few months of our lives and you really cared about us. I don’t care that we fought or that we will fight because being with you makes me happier than I ever thought possible.”

If she was going to say anything else, her words were swallowed up when he kissed her, hands cupping her cold cheeks. “I love you,” he said when she pulled back to breathe. “I never stopped. I didn’t know how to fight for you, how to stay, but I’ll do better. I can be better.”

She pressed another kiss to his lips. “Shut up, we’ll figure it out. We can do it right this time.”

Sometimes things die. It’s a sad cycle. The brightest fires turn cold and gray. But with time, new sparks can settle in that bed of ash. With care a new fire can start, burning brighter than before. So, even though things sometimes die, sometimes those dead things lead to an even more beautiful beginning.

#obx #outer banks #jiara #jj x kiara #angst #tw: current events #set in 2020 #jj maybank #kiara carrera #tw: minor character death #big sad #fics with liv #tw: cancer

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crazybagelbitch · 4 years

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Worst job you’ve ever had

Omg screaming that you sent this to me after we swapped horror stories.

RETAIL, RETAIL, RETAIL by a long mile. Even worse than when I was a receptionist at an eye doctor... an EYE DOCTOR where we sold glasses and my boss... REGULARLY MADE FUN OF MY GLASSES.

But. My job at Target. Actual hell. Coworkers (some of them, I had some angel coworker friends and they’re the only reason I didn’t quit far earlier) made fun of my disability and my HR’s response was “talk to them, you’re a grown adult.”

My head supervisor literally treated me like I was stupid and talked to others about how I should be fired IN FRONT OF ME.

Customers were jackasses and racist towards the latina women I worked with, I had one really racist coworker who embarrassed me on the regular and somehow got fired.

I was ostracized by coworkers for “getting an employee fired” when he was already on his “last warning” from HR for reporting him for saying gross anti lgbt things when I MYSELF am lgbt and had every right to be offended. And the kicker is this was not even the first time a gay coworker reported him for that. But noooo it was my fault and my other coworker who reported him for something (I don’t know what but this guy had been given like 15 warnings from HR so I’m sure her complaint was valid) was an actual supervisor but she still got bullied for it, too. Maybe it’s because we were both women who had the AUDACITY to report their beloved longtime member of their employee’s boys club.

I got sexually harassed not once but TWICE by two different male employees. The first guy didn’t even work for target he was an outside vendor but I complained multiple times and it wasn’t until another girl came on the record (he was weird to her but not as bad as me, but she still chose to report it for my sake and I will forever be grateful she had my back) that he got banned from working in our store. Legit I did have multiple assistant managers who went to bat for me but it wasn’t until another girl complained that he got fired. But also shoutout to my mildly hillbilly supervisor who gave the dude a talking to and then said “HE AIN’T GONNA BOTHER YOU AGAIN, ELLIE.”

AND THE SECOND FUCKING DUDE. Again creepy to especially me but also to other female employees, didn’t get fired for sexual harassment, got fired for coming into work drunk. Like completely wasted. BUT he wasn’t banned from the store when he was fired which is of course completely fine until he came back several times trying to find me and asking coworkers where I was, and it got to the point where if he was in the store my friends would warn me and I’d go hide in the stock room. Oh and I told security and they just shrugged.

But here’s the best part. THE BEST PART. I helped alert security and stop a robbery once-- not shoplifting because I genuinely do not give a fuck if people shoplift-- and was never thanked. People could have potentially gotten hurt and the only reason it didn’t happen was because I had a gut feeling about the suspicious dude and warned security, and he was caught and banned from the store and nothing happened. Because of me!! But never got a thank you.

Also I still worked there at the beginning of the pandemic and they didn’t do shit to protect us. At first, we weren’t allowed to wear masks because “it would scare away the customers.”

I could go on and on but I’ve already written you an essay so I’ll stop here. But long story short: BE NICE TO RETAIL EMPLOYEES IT IS HELL AND WE DO NOT GET PAID ENOUGH

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enchantedpendant · 4 years

Text

internal medicine

nearly 2 weeks ago now i finished my IM rotation. sure, it was only the second rotation i fully got through (bcs covid and all that)... but tbh, it already seems like the best. i have a few reasons for that.

the first thing would be how i, at this point, am actually most interested in IM as a specialty, as in i actually do wanna become an internist. i even have a subspecialty in mind — endocrinology! and for this i think i’d have to give a shoutout, with utmost respect, to one professor, an endocrinologist who gave several classes back in preclinical. he was just... very smart, which of course not that im saying others aren’t as smart, but his teaching method is just very effective. his classes were among the few which i’d actively take notes for, thats how invested i get. he was probably the first one that got me thinking “huh... IM seems interesting” when for years before that i thought i wanted to be an OBGYN.

aside from that wonderful teacher, allow me to elaborate more on what i like from IM. all the complex cases with long lists of comorbidities that some would complain about? listen, i love them. not in the sense of “oh theyre easy”, obviously theyre complicated and difficult, but like thats the fun! everything connects and the discussions could become endless. it might sound pessimistic when i say that somehow it would feel like no matter how much i study there would always be something i dont know, something others would know better about... but i dont mind that — the things to learn about are endless. IM is vast, dare i say it’s a large portion of medicine. the patients we come across are extremely varying. i love how these complex cases could feel like giant puzzles. i love how you get to work with other specialties or maybe even subspecialties among the internists for each cases — i love how its like a team game. and the workload feels like it hits a perfect balance — as in, i get to ‘directly’ save lives (hopefully... i mean, dealing with possibly mortal cases could be scary but also very rewarding), but on the other hand the chances of being forcibly woken up at 3AM for an emergency are far less (than, lets say, the surgical specialties... im sorry OBGYN).

last but absolutely not the least, i would like to say thank you to my preceptor throughout this 9 weeks rotation. the coolest dude ive ever known. my senior in junior high and senior high (10 years my senior, to be exact), the dude who went through the same trajectory through school as i did (started school at 5, skipped 2 years, got into med school at age 15)... ive heard a LOT about him (“OH you started med school at age 15? youre just like Alex then!!” i get that from nearly everyone yes his name is also Alex) but this was the very first time i actually got to interact with him. dude’s so smart, he became an internist at age 27 bruh holy shit dude what the hell and he could really teach. dude treated us coffee on our first and last meeting, greeted us on Whatsapp with “gang”... believe me when i say that we were truly shocked bcs... nah mates attendings just dont do that😭 i could go on and on about him, ive bored my mom by talking endlessly about him lmao all on how cool he is, but i’ll spare yall on that. he told us a story on how he decided to become an internist (after initially wanting to become an OBGYN!) and his story made me go... hey.... yeah i could relate to that. i sent him a message earlier today, a nice lil thank you and that im really happy to have him as my preceptor and i hope i could be just like him within the next 10 years. he responded along the lines of “awww! i hope our discussions were helpful, i wish we couldve had more but too bad we dont have enough time😞 see you on top, doc! ideally you dont need 10 years, you have lots of potential👍” which deadass i sent my mom the screenshot of it and i said “look at him and these white lies hdjskdjsksks omg how do i respond” i havent even opened the messages bcs idk what to say🥺😭 tl;dr knowing him has been very inspiring and i feel like ive learned a lot, more than just in an academic sense. i dont get all inspired and motivated often... but he did that.

okay yeah this post is long enough, ive said plenty i think! lol but i think IM deserves this.

imma rate Internal Medicine 9/10... the only 1 its losing is bcs i wish i had spent less time napping etc etc and spent even more time studying😭 like i still couldve done more i think😕 and like holy shit this is wild yall you dont often get to see me retrospectively wishing i studied more and of course with covid and all, we had no night shifts, we were discouraged from doing certain invasive interventions to the patients, so we still werent getting the Full Experience™ you see... but oh well

thank you IM (and doctor Alex!) — i hope i’ll see yall again☺️

#dani's review of clinical rotations #internal medicine #dani tries to survive med school #bruh i swear i wanna work with him as colleagues one day #how cool would that be

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et-lesailes · 5 years

Text

giving in // part two

PART ONE

pairing: doctor!steve x nurse!reader

word count: 1490

summary: you and steve are dating and your relationship is everything you could have ever asked for. however, you get into a semi serious car accident one night, and steve is worried sick about you.

warnings: car accident tw

themes: light angst but fluff at the end :)

taglist: @viarogers , @evanstush , @chibi-crazy , @chalamet-evans , @world-of-losers , @songforhema, @sebabestianstan101 , @tanyam93 , @bval-1, @wonderwinchester , @little-miss-exo, @poerebel , @pining-and-tired , @gogomez-509 , @patzammit, @a-distantdreamer, @malthestorytellerblog, @rainbowkisses31, @jbug491writinghelp, @quaiderade, @melannie77, @gigistorm, @lille-kattunge, @capsiclesdoll, @teller258316, @peach-acid, @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @allsortsofinterests, @xoxabs88xox

note: requested by @dawnstonoons // for now, this will probably be the final part to this series unless i get a specific request for a part 3, but i hope you guys enjoy! also shoutout to @thewritingdoll for the graphic!

You had been on the way to the hospital in the first place when it had happened.

Steve was working a graveyard shift and you, the great girlfriend that you were, had been planning on bringing him a midnight snack from his favorite burger joint- most likely his favorite because of its late night hours that accommodated his schedule. He had gotten a new position at the hospital, and while it was a lot of work and late nights, you were still proud of him. If anything, it was for the best that you weren't the nurse working for him while being his girlfriend, and so you did not mind being distanced at work either. God knows how distracted you would be if you were seeing him every second of the day, anyways. Besides, he made up for his busy schedule as much as he could when he had days off, giving you all of his attention and showering you with love.

You had been on the way to the hospital with a burger, but now you were on the way in an ambulance.

While driving through the intersection on a green light, a driver who very clearly had a red light had decided to proceed anyways, succeeding in slamming into the left back door of your car. Thankfully it wasn't your door itself, but the impact was enough to send your car spinning, eventually crashing into a nearby light post and proceeding to knock you out as your head lurched forward, hitting the wheel. It was up to the paramedics now; you were out cold, just like Steve's burger was getting as it had been tossed around to the floor of the passenger seat of your totaled car.

_______

Steve was exiting a patient room when he saw the team rush in with a figure on a gurney, the normal commands being barked left and right to get her into a room and in stable condition. He immediately started following out of habit, ready to help his team-- however, his eyes instantly widened when he saw your face. "What the hell happened?!" he instantly demanded as he looked up at the others, eyebrows furrowed deeply and features laced with desperate concern. The car accident was explained to him briefly, considering they were more focused on tending to you, and he listened as he rushed along with them, hand instinctively reaching to hold yours tightly. "Fuck. Shit." He cursed under his breath, biting his lip harshly as he looked down at your unconscious frame. Entering the room with everyone else, he immediately grabbed a pair of gloves, starting to put them on. "We need to stop the bleeding now, she's already-"

"Dr. Rogers," one of the doctors cut him off, biting her lip apologetically. "Dr. Barnes is on his way to lead this operation-- we don't believe it's wise to have you be in the room at all for this.... you're too close with the patient, you may be too distraught to focus." The blond immediately stopped in his tracks, looking to her defensively about to protest-- though deep down, he knew she was right. He would make the same decision if he was in her place. He sighed frustrated, taking his gloves off and coming to your side one more time, squeezing your hand. "I promise you're going to be alright, doll," he muttered softly, leaning down and kissing your forehead. "I'll see you soon. So soon. Be strong for me." Taking a deep breath, he stepped back, nodding to the team leaving his trust in their hands as much as he could before turning around and exiting through the double doors.

_______

Waking up was confusing as hell. All you had remembered was the impact of the crash, and then everything was completely black. However, you had no time to even attempt to jog your memory considering the second you woke up, Steve was jumping to his feet from the chair beside your bed.

"Baby. Are you alright? Shit, I was so worried." He took your hand and looked at you sadly with worry, eyes focused on yours. "Do you remember anything?" You held his hand lightly, not feeling completely strong enough to even give it a good squeeze; you felt groggy and your brain didn't even feel like your own. Looking up at him, you squinted slightly as if unable to recognize him. "Steeeeeve? Is that you?" you slurred, and he blinked before barely chuckling, though he still looked nervous. "Yeah, baby. I see the morphine worked a little too well. Y/N, are you okay?" he repeated his question and you started to open your eyes more, looking up into his pacific ones. You were silent for a few moments before a giggle suddenly broke out, your fingers properly intertwining with his now. "You're the cutest, baby," you told him with a confident nod, a somewhat mushy smile on your face. "The most handsome baby there ever is. And you're alllll miiiine." You studied his eyes closer, adding, "Did you know your eyes are really blue? Like, really blue. They're so pretty." You giggled again as you reached up to poke his nose and he blinked before laughing, a bit of worry fading away from his face. "Mm, alright, I think you're okay." He confirmed fondly, leaning down and kissing your forehead. "Thank you, sweetheart. I'm glad you think my eyes are pretty."

"All of you is pretty!" you suddenly insisted as if trying to convince him of this, grabbing his arm and pulling him down. "And I'm so, so lucky that the prettiest boy in the entire universe is my boyfriend." You then narrowed your eyes so fast, he practically almost widened his own from being so thrown off. "You're only MY boyfriend, right?? There's no OTHER nurse out there... is there?" He blinked and then laughed again, shaking his head as he slowly sat down in his chair again, though still holding your hand. "No, sweetheart. You're the only sexy nurse in my life, don't worry." You almost instantly laughed cutely upon hearing this, serious expression completely wiped off your face, lifting his hand up to play with his fingers. "Good. Because then I'd have to do some real NOT pretty stuff to her. Because you're miiiine, and I'm yoooours!" you (poorly) sang the last part to the tune of the Jason Mraz song, and he couldn't help but grin widely, leaning in to give your cheek a loving peck. "Mmm you're so adorable, lovebug. And you know, I'd really like to see you fight someone over me, now that would be hot." He added jokingly, and you giggled again. "I don't actually know how to fight though...." you admitted, your smile suddenly fading as if this was a huge problem. "Maybe me and her could have a bake off over you or something..."

He couldn't help but laugh loudly at that, scooting his chair closer to your side. "As long as I'm the judge, I have absolutely no problem with that cutie pie. But, hey, listen to me for a sec." His expression became a little more serious as he rubbed your knuckles lightly with his fingers, tilting his head. "I was so scared tonight. I-I don't know what I would have done if I lost you. And it made me realize there's so much we haven't done yet, so much I haven't been able to tell you." You looked at him just as seriously, your brain somewhat registering that this was a much deeper topic than competitively preparing pastries, remaining quiet as he continued. "I've never met someone as special as you before. It was never just about physical attraction with you, even if we had sex before we actually started dating. You know that, right?" You nodded your head slowly, looking up at him with somewhat round eyes. He smiled and leaned down to kiss your forehead, murmuring, "You're so damn precious to me. I love you, and I never, ever want to lose you. I'd be a fucking mess, baby doll." He pulled back to look down into your eyes, adding softly, "I just wanted you to know all of this. I want you to know how much you mean to me."

You gazed up into his eyes, the drugs still hazing your tired mind, your subconscious wishing this had been recorded. Oh well, he could repeat this tomorrow. Nodding your head, you simply replied sleepily, "Yep. I'm special edition, baby."

With that, your eyes were closing again, slipping soundly into dreamland. He looked down at you somewhat baffled for a few moments, his lips in a perfect 'o' as he slowly leaned back in his chair with an incredulous scoff. "Okay," he mumbled in amusement, "maybe that was on me for trying to be sentimental when you're drugged up, but come on doll." Still, he couldn't help but laugh, lifting your hand to his lips and kissing it gently. "Goodnight, sweet girl. I love you so much."

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers au #steve rogers fluff #chris evans x reader #doctor!steve

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homiegeesus · 5 years

Text

The Year of Magical Thinking, Ch. 3

Summary: Francis Sinclair believed Arthur Morgan had not finished living. In a second chance at life, Arthur discovers what it means to love himself.

At the edge of a precipice and nowhere to run, Arthur concedes defeat. In an extraordinary turn of events, he is sent through the ether to another time where his path crosses with a group not too unlike his own family. After discovering the fate of those he loved before, he races to find a way back. But what if he realizes that there is something worth staying for in this new world? Can two people separated by nearly a hundred and twenty years of living find their happily ever after?

AO3 Link (edit: link fixed)

Author’s Note: So sorry for saying that I would post yesterday when I did not. We had some terrible weather 'round here, and it took me forever to get home last night. Long chapter is long, though. I know y'all are probably like "where is your OFC"? Well, she'll be introduced in the next chapter, I promise. I should have it posted in a couple of days. Shoutout to TheTiniestTortoise ( @shallow-gravy ) who has valiantly offered to beta this story (this chapter was not). Fair warning: I'm seriously going to take you up on this, so be prepared lmao. In the meantime, y'all need to go read "Blackbird's Song". It's a fantastic ArthurxOC take on the RDR2 plot, seriously drop everything and read it! Also, I created a "We Heart It" collection thing where I pin images that inspire me while writing. Just a warning, though: It might spoil some elements of the story. If you don't want any idea of where I'm taking the plot, do not click here.

Thank you to @tiesthatbind1899 (author of Memories of the West - another must read), for the idea. You're awesome.

Almost forgot, in this story, Blackwater is Dallas. I read in the wiki that Blackwater was likely modeled after early 20th century Dallas, so I'm running with it. Plus, it's where I live, and even though most authors can't agree on whether you should "write what you know", this is fanfiction, so hell yes I will write what I know...at least in the first few chapters lol. Hope y'all enjoy this chapter, and as always, constructive criticism welcomed and appreciated!

The Year of Magical Thinking

Chapter 3 - American Remains

Not knowing if the doctor wanted Arthur to follow, he stood for a moment and stared at the carving on the cave wall. After Steven exited the chamber, the cave was again silent allowing Arthur to observe and reflect. His fingers traced the broad lines of the design as he pondered just how the whole situation had come to pass. What an interesting sequence of events. One moment, Arthur was dying and the next he was not. Having been a hair’s breath away from death had changed him fundamentally. Suddenly being thrust into wellness had been jarring, to say the least. Itching to sketch the new carving, he reached to his side for his journal. Hand feeling empty air where his satchel would usually be, he closed his eyes and covered his face.

In a last act of brotherly affection, Arthur had given John his most important possessions: his father’s hat and his satchel along with everything in it. Suddenly, a deep homesickness fell on him like anvil. The realization that he would never see his family again caused a well of emotions to rise up and threaten to consume him whole. He didn’t belong in this place. If Arthur was a part of a dying breed back then, then how would one hundred and twenty years of so-called progress treat him? With no place to call home and not a penny to his name, how would he survive?

Feeling suddenly claustrophobic in this cool, damp place, Arthur turned and followed the path of Steven’s exit. As the natural light of the sun reached him, he felt a wave of humid heat hit his face, instantly causing tiny rivulets of sweat to breakout across his forehead. Finally exiting the cave, he stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. Even in the heat, Arthur delighted in clean, easy breathing. Tortured by diseased lungs in the past months, he had forgotten what it meant to be well.

Looking at his surroundings, he spotted Steven near a table off to the left of the clearing. Arthur began walking towards him, that is, until he spotted the younger man talking to himself. Rooted in place, he observed Steven holding what appeared to be a small black book while gesturing wildly with his arms.

Damn it, you old fool, Arthur inwardly chastised. He had driven the man to madness with his scarcely believable tale. He walked closer to make out the words coming from the young doctor. That’s when he heard the other voice bleeding from the air that surrounded them.

“Steven, my love, my future husband, my everything – if you do not make it to this dinner, I will leave you. And then, I’ll cancel you. You will be canceled!” The voice yelled, sounding as if it came from a phonograph. Arthur furrowed his brow and looked for the source.

“Nick,” Steven responded in voice that even Arthur could tell was full of condescension, “first of all, you know I love you, but you also know I hate these dinners. Secondly, I just told you that something came up at work.” He then cradled the little black book in both hands, thumbs moving wildly over the cover. “It’s incredibly important that –”

Nick interrupted, “It’s incredibly important that you be at this dinner. Steven, we’ve had this planned for two weeks. All of the partners are going to have their significant others with them. They’re expecting you there. They all fucking love you; always like ‘Steven is so charming’ or ‘God Nick, how did you bag a guy like Steven? He’s so funny and you are so – not.’”

Steven laughed, “They don’t say that.” He finally glanced up in Arthur’s direction, smile falling from his face.

“Ugh, yes they do. It’s annoying as shit. I mean, I can be funny,” the voice replied. Steven began looking from the book to Arthur and back again in quick succession.

“Babe, I gotta call you back –”

“Steven –”

“Nick,” Steven interrupted sternly, “I’ll call you right back, I promise.” Call? Arthur thought to himself. That little black book’s a telephone? Nah…

Nick sighed loud enough for both men to hear. “Just please show up tonight. It’s all I ask.”

Steven nodded as if he could be seen. Arthur thought maybe he could. They each said ‘I love you’ and Steven glanced up at him.

“Holy shit,” was all he said.

“What?” Arthur frowned.

Steven just shook his head and held out the little book, or whatever it was. From where Arthur was standing, he could barely discern what looked like a photograph. Steven glanced quickly between the object in his hand and Arthur’s face. He seemed to realize the older man’s cluelessness.

He dropped his arm halfway and grinned, “Oh sorry, you’re probably like ‘what the hell is this?” He gestured to the device and laughed. “Jesus, well, this is a phone. A telephone.” A flipped it in his hands, and then held it out to Arthur. “Go ahead. Check it out.”

Arthur stepped closer and cautiously took the gadget. Looking at it, what he saw would take him back some five years ago to a hunting trip he, John and Hosea had embarked upon in Tall Trees, a year before John had left to God knows where. The trip had been a fruitful one, as the trio had taken down a bear with size to rival the one they had caught in the Grizzlies. It was a good memory, set before his relationship with John had descended into spite and jealousy. He stared at the photograph, the sepia tone making it seem so unreal when his memories burst with color. Arthur, John and Hosea looking as serious as three feared outlaws could, each held rifles behind a large grizzly bear.

Arthur looked up to Steven, “Where’d ya get this?”

The corners of his mouth quirked as if he went to smile but then thought better of it. “That’s a, uh, long story. But I mean –,” Steven then smiled, “it’s you.” He laughed a little manically, “That’s you in that photo.”

Arthur, not realizing the significance of this moment, just replied with a shrug of his large shoulders, “Yeah.”

Steven briefly ran a finger over his lips as he continued to smile, “Dear God. How the hell did this happen?”

“Ain’t gotta clue,” the outlaw replied simply.

Steven just shrugged. “Well, in any case, we have to figure out what we’re gonna do with you. I mean,” he laughed, “you could come home with me, but my, uh – Nick would probably freak the hell out.” A considering look passed over his face. “Hey, you said you were sick before?”

Arthur nodded, “Yeah, but I ain’t coughin’ no more.”

“Tuberculosis?” Steven supplied. The other man’s eyes narrowed fractionally.

“How’d you know?” The doctor just gave a toothy grin.

“Mr. Morgan, you’re quite famous. Like Jesse James.” At Arthur’s perplexed face, he continued, “Didn’t you, like, have your own gang, or something? You know, like Jesse James did?”

Arthur laughed, “What? No.” He shook his head, “I was in one, but I weren’t the leader. That was Dutch.” Steven’s face lit in recognition.

“Oh yeah,” he then looked off to the side. “I haven’t seen any westerns since I was a kid, so I’m only vaguely familiar with the history.” He looked back to Arthur with a smile, “My friend Ada would know. She loves them.”

“Uh-huh. Western? Like a dime novel?” The outlaw asked, head tilted in question.

Steven shook his head. “No, movies. They’re like, uh –,” obviously wondering how to explain, “you know, moving pictures.”

“Oh yeah, I know ‘bout them. Used to go to the theater on special occasions an’ such,” Arthur recalled.

“Well, they’re a little different now,” the doctor laughed. “They’re in color and have sound, so –”

Arthur tracked his thumb across his stubbled chin. “Ain’t that somethin’,” he replied a bit in awe.

Steven smiled, “Yeah well, you’ve been portrayed a couple times, I think.”

Amazed, Arthur responded, “Yer kiddin’.” The younger man just shook his head.

“Nope. The only ones I know of came out a long time ago, like the ‘40s or ‘50s. Maybe earlier.” The outlaw lightly laughed.

He looked slyly to Steven. “Were they, uh – were they handsome?” The corner of Arthur’s mouth ticked slightly up.

Steven barked out a quick laugh. “Oh yeah. They were.” He shot the other man another toothy smile. “Though, I’m beginning to think that they didn’t do you justice!”

Unfamiliar with such bald-faced compliments, Arthur bowed his head in an attempt to hide the shy smile forming on his face. Damn it all, he didn’t have his hat. He just swatted his hand and said, “Nah.”

Steven was apparently having none of that. “Trust me, Arthur. Even covered in dirt, you’re a tall drink of water on a hot day.” He let out a loud guffaw at the sight of the blush that crept up on Arthur’s face. “I’m just messin’ with ya.”

Arthur just shrugged and tried to conjure up what little was left of his mean outlaw persona. “Yeah, well –”

“Alright,” laughing again, Steven stepped past Arthur, clapping him on his shoulder. “I’m gonna go turn off the generator and stuff, and then we’ll figure out what to do.” -------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What in the hell was he going to do? Nick would kill him. No doubt about it. His future husband would whip out that Latin Fire and scorch him where he stood. Steven could see the inevitable conversation play out in his head. ‘Honey, I’ve brought home an outlaw from the 19th century. He’s going to be staying with us for a while. Oh, and he has a gun, and he could shoot us in our sleep and rob our corpses.’

“Jesus,” Steven said quietly to himself as he gathered the equipment around the worksite. His morbid train of thought was then interrupted by the shrill sound of his cellphone ringing. Grabbing the device from his back pocket, he looked at the screen.

Nick, the ID screamed at him. Steven stared at it a moment before answering.

“I swear I was just about to call you,” he started. He could hear the eye roll coming through the phone.

“Uh-huh. Why did you tell Jeremy to go home earlier?”

Shit. “Well, I uh –,” completely unsure with what to say and totally unfamiliar with lying to his partner, he explained the best he could. First though, “How did you know I sent Jeremy home?”

“You sounded weird when I spoke to you last, so I texted him. Stop trying to change the subject.”

Figures. He needed to teach the kid about worksite discretion. But right now, he had to get through this conversation. “Something did come up. Nick, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Nick responded in a concerned voice, “Steven, what is it? What happened?”

“Well – you see – I, uh, I’ve met someone else, and I’ve decided that we’re going to be together.” Steven paused a second, then added, “I’m leaving you.”

“Good lord, Steven. Be serious. I’m sitting here thinking you’re about to tell me you have cancer or something.”

“Oh, no. I’m healthy as a horse. I am leaving you, though.”

“Mi amor. Please. What’s going on?” Nick was sounding legitimately concerned now.

Steven sighed, “Look, I’ll tell you everything. This evening.” He added, “Just trust me. We’ll talk about it tonight after dinner, I promise.”

Giving a light chuckle, Nick reassured, “Okay, okay. I trust you. I wouldn’t be marrying you if I didn’t.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Steven turned and looked at Arthur across the clearing. The outlaw was sitting at the picnic table, arms folded. Suddenly remembering a part of their conversation from earlier, he looked again to his phone. Selecting a contact, he dialed Lauren Linklater’s number. She answered on the third ring.

“Linklater.”

“Hey, it’s Steven. You gotta minute?”

He could hear a distinct crunching noise. “I’m at lunch. What’s up?” Always succinct and to the point. Steven appreciated that right now.

“Well, I have a question about something. Completely hypothetical,” he started.

“Okay.” She waited for him to elucidate.

“Okay, so again, completely hypothetical –”

“Steven.”

“Yeah?” He asked.

“I’ve got like ten minutes to eat before I have to go put my hands in some dude’s chest cavity –”

“Right. Yeah, sorry, so – say someone traveled through time from, I dunno, 1899 to our time. Would you be concerned about them getting deathly sick from something really simple, like a common cold? Would they be more susceptible?” Then he remembered, “Oh, and what if they had tuberculosis before they – you know, time-traveled?”

Steven figured she might be chewing her lunch, when it took a moment for her to answer.

“Is this a part of your weird cave art or something?” She asked.

“Rock carvings,” he corrected. “Well, kinda. I mean, yes. It is.” He explained, “I’m asking you because it’s a little bit outside my purview.”

“Okay, well, it’s a little bit outside of mine, too. This would be a great question for, I dunno, an epidemiologist or – heh, Doc Brown. I’m a general surgeon.”

Steve sighed, “Right. I just needed a quick opinion, so –”

“I just don’t want to give you incorrect information, especially for your job, ya know? If this is off the record, or whatever, I can try to resurrect some of the ole braincells from med school.”

He laughed, “Yes, if you could do that, I’d appreciate it.”

“Okay, so I probably wouldn’t be too concerned about this hypothetical person getting a modern day cold. Our immune systems are pretty badass, and it’s been that way for a long time. I’d be more concerned about a modern-day person going back, like, five hundred years, I guess. Still, I would maybe want to do a blood test and a cheek swab to make sure they’re not bringing small pox or something with ‘em. You say this hypothetical dude had TB?”

“Yeah, but afterwards, he didn’t have any signs of still being sick. And before, he was near death, like minutes or hours away.”

“Okay, well, they’d probably need to get checked out anyways. TB is highly treatable with antibiotics these days, so not much to worry about. If this dude wasn’t showing any signs of illness, chances are he didn’t bring it with him.” She then began to laugh.

“What?” Steven asked.

“Nothing, just – we’re talking about it like it exists. I dunno, just thought that was funny.”

“Yeah,” he breathed a laugh. He heard her begin chewing again.

“Steven.”

“What?”

He could hear the smile in her voice, “Did you find a diseased time-traveler?”

“Very funny,” Steven muttered sarcastically. “I’ll let you get back to your lunch, and your – chest cavity.”

Lauren laughed, “Okay, let me know how your project goes.”

“Will do.”

Hanging up, Steven sighed. Thinking about where in the hell he could stash a time-traveling cowboy, he walked back over to Arthur. The outlaw was hunched over the picnic table, staring intently at his hands. He looked up when Steven’s boots entered his field of vision.

“Well, we gotta head out pretty soon before traffic gets too bad.” He glanced in the direction of his car beyond the wall of pine trees.

Arthur frowned, “Traffic?”

Steven nodded, “Yup. You know, lots of vehicles, people.”

“Yeah, I know what traffic is. Jus’ wonderin’ if we’ll be goin’ through a city?” He clarified.

Motioning for Arthur to follow him, Steven elaborated, “Yeah, but not for a while. It’s pretty crazy, but it’s not just the cities that hold most people now. There are a shit ton of people in the boonies, too.” Judging by his expression, Arthur didn’t seem to like that little tidbit. Steven pointed to a couple of small crates, “Mind helping me carry these?”

Arthur moved to pick up one of the containers, “Naw, ‘course not.” Both men began walking along a path surrounded by trees leading out to the parking lot. Steven let out a loud laugh at Arthur’s face when they reached his silver Ford truck.

They sat down the crates as Arthur took a moment to absorb the vehicle in front of him.

Steven, thinking of the Bon Jovi song, tried his best to explain. “It’s like, uh, a steel horse. Ya know – “

Arthur just looked to him with a sardonic face, “I know whatta automobile is.”

Steven nodded, “Oh, right.”

“They’re just, ah – a li’l different than I remember ‘em.” Walking around the perimeter of Steven’s car, Arthur seemed to observe every little detail. Almost like an artist would a subject, he thought vaguely.

“Yeah, well.” Steven kicked a rock at his foot. “Wait ‘till you get inside.”

“Huh,” the cowboy huffed. Coming to stand beside Steven, he looked to the younger man. Placing his hands on his hips, Arthur pondered, “Just how would one go ‘bout doin’ that?”

Steven huffed out a laugh, “We’ll get to that, but first, we need to, uh – talk about your, uh, gun.”

“You ain’t takin’ my gun, Doc.”

“Steven, and it’s just –”, Steven took a step forward. Arthur’s hand went to his pistol grip, as if preparing to draw, and Steven shot his hands up in surrender. “Woah, I’m – I’m not going to take your gun, well – not for what you think. Can you just please take your hand off the gun? Please, don’t shoot me.”

Arthur acquiesced by removing his hand and briefly raising it palm forward in the air.

“Look, I’m not trying to take your gun, at least not for why you’re thinking. It’s just – times have changed. You can’t just walk around strapped like Jesse James.” Arthur quirked a dark brow. “I mean, this is Texas, but still. Cops can have itchy trigger fingers ‘round here.”

“Ain’t that all the more reason I should keep my gun?” Arthur’s deep voice drawled.

“No! Absolutely not!” Steven laughed incredulously. “I mean, that may seem logical to you, I guess, but trust me when I say you do not want to go shooting cops. ‘Law and order’ is – well, it’s just not the same as it used to be.”

Arthur looked pensive for a moment as he stared at Steven, as if to determine if the younger man was being truthful. Finally, his hands went to the buckle of his gun belt to loosen it. “You ain’t gonna make me regret this, are ya?”

Steven exhaled a nervous laugh, “What? No, no. I mean, you have more of a chance of being, I dunno, sucked up by a tornado than you have of being shot at between here and where we’re going.”

“Uh-huh, and jus’ where are we goin’?”

“Well, that’s TBD.” At Arthur’s confused expression, Steven quickly amended, “To be determined.”

“A’right,” the cowboy waved a hand in the air. “Let’s get a move on then.”

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

After placing the crates inside of the bed and Arthur’s gun belt under the backseat, the men climbed into the monstrosity of an automobile. Steven had shown Arthur how to open the door and put on a seatbelt, but it seemed easy enough. Sitting in the interior of this modern-day work horse, he luxuriated in the leather seat. He ran his fingers along the armrest, the treated leather feeling like smooth silk against his calloused hands. Looking up, his antiquated mind tried to conjure up why a person would need all these knobs and dials. What was their purpose? Steven settled into the seat beside him.

“You ready?”

“I gotta choice?”

Steven quirked a brow, “Not really.”

“Well then. There’s yer answer.”

And with that, the young doctor turned on the beast beneath them. Arthur did not expect the burst of noise that felt as if it hit him physically. Steven reached for the dials in front of them and quickly apologized.

“Oh god, sorry! I forgot I had the radio on, I’m so sorry,” he said quickly.

“Good god, man. How do you still have yer hearin’?” Arthur questioned, absolutely astonished.

“Yeah, that was loud. It keeps me going on a long drive.” He laughed, “I’m so sorry.”

Arthur just shook his head, “What in the hell was that?”

“Uh, music. Metallica, I think.”

The outlaw stared at Steven like he’d grown two heads, “Music? What the hell kinda music is that?” He shook his head. “Sounded like a thousand cats dyin’.”

Steven shrugged, “I think they’d like that comparison.”

The doctor tinkered with some levers and such around the wheel, and suddenly they were moving. Exiting the area, they pulled out onto the road. Despite the anxiety Arthur felt at the fast movement, he decided it wasn’t too terrible. That is until the speed caused his world to tilt.

Steven was chatting away about where they were going and what they would do when they got there, when Arthur began to feel utterly nauseated. Mesmerized by the white lines in the middle of the road as they moved past so quickly that they turned into one blur, his vision doubled, eyes nearly rolling back in his head. If Steven noticed, he didn’t say anything, so preoccupied as he was.

“I mean, we have a pullout couch. But our place is tiny. We’d be like sardines in a can. You had those in your time –”

“Doc.”

“– right? Of course, you did. Well, we’d be like sardines. It’d be uncomfortable. I’d ask –”

“Doc.”

“– Lauren, but she’s a doctor. She’s always working. It’s not like –”

“Pull over.”

“– I can leave you alone. Holy shit, I know who –”

Arthur finally raised his voice, “Steven!

Confused, Steven replied, “What?”

Looking at the other man, Arthur gritted lowly, “Stop this damn contraption ‘fore I vomit all o’er this nice leather.” Finally understanding, Steven pulled to the side of the road. As Arthur went to hop down from the vehicle, something jerked him back into place. Before the outlaw could grab his knife, Steven calmly reached over and unbuckled the belt. Murmuring a quick ‘thanks’, Arthur hauled himself out of the truck and into the field. A loud horn from another passing vehicle would have scared him out of his boots, if he hadn’t been so overcome with nausea.

Steven yelled a sarcastic, “Ok, thank you!” before saying to himself, “Asshole.”

Wiping his mouth, Arthur turned and walked back to the truck. Once they were both inside, Steven looked at him.

“You okay?” He asked, concerned. Arthur just nodded. Steven continued, “I didn’t even think about you getting motion sickness. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“S’alright,” Arthur said quietly.

The doctor handed him a bright pink pill of some sort and what looked like a clear canteen.

“It’ll help with the dizziness. Plus, it might even help you get some rest. We got a couple hours drive before we reach the city.” Arthur took it without question, washing it back with the warm water as Steven pulled the truck back onto the road.

He questioned, “City?”

“Yeah. Blackwater.”

Unable to help it, Arthur felt his blood run cold. Knowing that his bounty was long gone was not enough to keep his anxiety from spiking. Arthur did not say anything. This man knew his name, did he know his sins? Would he still be so generous and willing to take him in, knowing the blackness of the outlaw’s heart?

Steven briefly glanced his way. “I have an idea about where you can stay. I have to call her, but I know she’ll be okay with it.” He looked back at Arthur. “I think you’ll like her.”

Arthur just nodded, feeling the effect of the medicine begin to take hold. Eyelids turning heavy, he shifted until his head lulled forward. Exhaustion catching up with him, he surrendered to Morpheus in a dreamless sleep.

#Red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #Arthur Morgan x oc #Arthur x oc #the year of magical thinking #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 fic #arthur morgan

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showmetruecolors · 5 years

Text

Being a nurse during the COVID-19 Era.

I was a nursing student during the Ebola crisis where they taught us how to suit up and doff properly without being contaminated. It so happens that the hospital I was interning in at the time was planned to be the hospital in NY State that would take on the first Ebola case if it were ever to hit our state. They made it clear that if the case were to come to the hospital, the student nurses were to not even be on the same unit, and that they would move us. However, in cases of lack of assistance, they would need us to know how to properly enter and exit the room with the hazmat suit without providing contamination to ourselves and the environment.

I have also been a nurse the past almost four years during crazy and erratic flu hits. I have seen flu kill the terminally ill and the elderly. I have also seen the flu hit my coworkers pretty bad as a result of working in health care. Working overnights in a section of the emergency room, we always have flu patients and we are always prepared to a certain extent, how it would affect our patient once getting report.

But not with COVID.

As of two Saturdays ago, I am currently a part of one of the designated groups of nurses for COVID-19 for my hospital. I am on the float pool and they started by emptying out one of our main units to reserve them for COVID-19 rule-outs and positive patients. (Obviously the expansion of designated COVID units grew over a week...) There are cameras watching us every time we enter and exit a room and put on and off our PPE gown. With that, staff must sign (pretty much their life away) each time they enter or exit the room, by providing contact info, DOB, who watched us and their info, etc. This includes staff that also enter to pick up the garbage. Everyone in the hospital had to learn the steps of putting on and taking off the protective equipment. Not just nurses and doctors. At this point, it felt all hospitals were ready to respond to this clientele and the caseload.

At first I was so thrilled to be one of the COVID nurses and to be assigned on one of the COVID units. And then, came the first time another nurse and I actually had to gown up. Each time we gown up in the protective equipment, we must have another nurse on the other side of the glass watch us and check off a checklist of things we are doing. The purpose of this is to also catch any contamination to ourselves or the environment quickly. The first situation of us gowning up, I was actually the observer. Gowning up takes some time so after a few minutes of checking off the checkboxes, watching her, and giving her a thumbs up after every step, then comes the part of the eyewear which then caused me to look up at this nurse’s eyes. She had tears filling up her eyes , something I didn't notice while checking her method of donning her equipment, and her hands were shaking as she was placing the eyewear onto her face. She has a young child at home and she used to tell me about how she is also a caretaker for her parents. I wonder if this is what she was thinking of before entering the room. I heard rustling behind me and I turned around. Two evening administrators were there intensely watching from the distance almost unsure about walking near the door where we must stand to observe.

Later that evening when it was around the 3rd time I had to gown up to go to my own patient’s room, I went in the with PCA so he can assist me with closing the back of my gown as well as him getting comfortable coming in and out of the room per protocol. I looked up halfway through our gowning process, to see staff and admin watching us as well. Everyone had a look of fear in their eyes. I turned to look at the PCA who would not make eye contact and always had a strong demeanor when it came to things like codes, rapids, etc. He looked startled and like he didn’t want to talk about anything. At that moment I realized, we actually don’t know anything about what is behind those isolation doors once we enter. All we know is that it is airborne, we have only SOME information about the viral processes and the human body reaction, and that the human race can only receive oxygen in only three different ways before complete intubation... (Breathing on their own, nasal cannula, and Non-rebreather. The other options would cause viral shedding, leading to worsening of the viral spread and even contamination.) We also knew that each time we gowned up and enter the room, we were able to see facts and theories in front of us and assist us in understanding the virus more and how to manage based on other EBP methods from past, and new methods. Which made the situation SO interesting.

On my second shift being one of the COVID nurses, we learned more about the virus. And one thing was confirmed about my previous shift, and it was that the beliefs even among staff/the hospital and community members about what it all is, varied...

We started learning that after a couple of days of confirmed testing, people were coding. There seemed to be a peak time that the virus was causing severe respiratory failure and a systemic failure response and our managers told us that this was an ongoing and similar experience with other hospitals that they have collaborated with when discussing support during emergency responses. Days later, a nationally recognized public health organization actually published a report online that showed the timeline graph of peak levels during viral process and that proved the theory to possibly be correct. After a certain amount of days, almost regardless of intervention, certain people were rapidly deteriorating.

I walked into shift that day briefly assisting my colleagues in a code. Although this person had several cofounding factors that would've made even the basic flu difficult for the person to overcome, it was scary to see. Next thing you know a staff member’s gown had ripped in the process of helping the patient. Some staff were actually nervous for her. She followed proper decontamination protocol but it was still the fear of the unknown that is controlling everyone that is causing complete mayhem and chaos.

It is also the lack of supplies causing unreal scenarios....I took complete pride in the fact that my team would be some of the first COVID nurses , until I realized we didn't even have enough n95 respirators...that we were reusing products...(Which almost puts us at risk for contamination of ourselves and our environment and loved ones) we also don’t have enough face shields or goggles. So we are reusing them every shift. We can blame politicians or our actual health care orgs or whomever you feel is responsible when it came to emergency prepardness and allocation of funds. But all I know is that I am, as well as other staff, are becoming more and more at risk every shift as well as at risk when community members can't follow basic instructions and educate themselves with resources that are actually not factual. Which brings me to my next thanggg - When I see families out in the super market using gloves and masks, I get angry.

1. The masks you see people wearing are not n95 respirators so you will catch corona and even TB regardless. Jokes on you, folks.

2. Gloves? Are you serious? You think that will protect you? Each time you pick up an item wearing gloves and touch your face/fix your hair (which is what I actually saw the other day) you’re not protecting yourself. That glove is now contaminated regardless, and unless you’re bleaching the shit out of the products you are buying before placing them in your vehicle or bag, they are holding onto whatever the environment has, as well. Contaminated or not.

3. I understand the fear of the city/stores closing down so you must stock up on essentials and food. However, you are now defeating the purpose of preventing viral spread and you’re causing large groups in one tight area to take place. (Shoutout and much love to grocery store / restaurant employees, etc.) It’s to the point where I am less of a threat if I walk into a patient’s room with symptoms of COVID and then run over and cough on and hug 100 people, than those who have been at Walmart or the grocery store everyday this week spending a long amount of time getting items. I understand the need to have essentials, and that online services may be more expensive, but at times like these, they may be worth it especially if you or someone you are at home with is compromised in some way. This also, by the way, helps with the job industry including forcing one to have more self-awareness with WIC covered products and can assist in monitoring that they are not taken off of shelves and into carts out of pure human PANIC as opposed to other replacement products.

4. This happening does not give you the excuse to blame a certain group of people. If you do not know what corona is (and by going to CVS the other day to pick up my acid reflux meds and hearing chatter about it at my second job by non-medical personnel , I realize this is the case) then you need to shut the fuck up and not be an inherently racist prick. The end. No excuses.

Do not panic. BUT. Stay home once all your essentials are brought together. I know that during these times, there may be job and financial hardships, loved ones you are concerned about, and some children’s/college students’ education is on the line and being effected as a result (as is mine...), and that there is fear due to the unknown contamination of the virus and due to the different directions in leadership and advices. But please try to stay calm. And stay home. Staying home is the only thing you have control of at this moment, that can eventually help restore everything going on. The more you stay home, the more you’re helping ease the situation/exposures which can eventually lead to the life we were living before where you can work, go to school, etc. And since you will all have time now, educate yourself on the spread of Corona and understand WHAT it even is. One of the leading issues seems to be that no one was properly educated on it, causing the reaction everyone is having which is putting more people in danger and hospitals in complete stress and OVER the capacity to diligently care for patients that have the virus, among with other serious illnesses.

Flatten the mother fucking curve.

Love,

Emily RN

#COVID #Sincerely a nurse #Corona #stay home #flatten the curve #covid19

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all-the-love-harold · 6 years

Text

Chapter 9 - Everything Begins with a Heartbeat

Chapter 9 is here! @lovesmelikebrandnewstarlight deserves a special shoutout for helping me out with the title this time and for being the most supportive friend ever. Let me know what you think about what’s going on with Harry and Poppy!

Chapter 8

Master Post

May 12th 2017 – 5 Weeks

5:00am

“Poppy wake up, it’s album day, wake up” Harry said softly into her ear as she stirred a little, hiding her head under the pillow. “Come on love, you’ve got work today,” she lifted her head, and looked at Harry

“Fuck you for releasing your album on a Friday and making me go into work” she said in a croaky sleep ridden voice

“Soz” he pulled the blankets off both of them and jumped out of bed “I’m going to make us coffee, you can get dressed”

He walked out of the room and Poppy rolled back over, groaning loudly and pulling the covers up over her head. She was excited for Harry, she really was, but it was early and she wasn’t supposed to be working on Friday’s any more. She heard Harry’s careful footsteps heading towards the bedroom and she slowly sat herself on the edge on the bed, moving her hand towards her stomach.

“Everything alright love?” Harry said as he walked back in the room, seeing her holding onto her pregnant belly

“Yeah” she said, ever since her doctor’s appointment last week, every little symptom stressed her out, from morning sickness to headaches. She was paranoid that she was going to lose the baby and she wanted to do everything she could to make sure that didn’t happen, and so did Harry. “It still doesn’t feel like this is real H”

“It will feel real after your scan next week” he handed her a cup of tea “drink this”

“Thanks” she said grabbing the cup and taking a sip “Oooh” she remembered the gift she bought for Harry “I have a present for you”

“For me?” he said surprised “Why?”

“Because you made a killer album and I’m proud of you” she stood up and opened her wardrobe, leaning down to find where she’d hidden the gift. It wasn’t much, a new journal because she was sick of the sight of the old one, and she thought a new era for Harry deserved a new Journal to write things down in, and a kiwi fruit, because that song had taken on a new meaning since she found out she was having a baby. Poppy handed him the gift bag and he unwrapped the journal first, untying the string and opening it, reading the message she wrote him on the inside cover.

“There’s always more songs to be written H, can’t wait to hear them”

“Thanks Pop, can’t wait to play them for you” he smiled

“There’s more in the bag” she gestured towards the bag as he opened it again

“No there’s not?” he handed her the bag and she looked inside, she must have forgotten to put the Kiwi in there when she got back from doing her groceries

“Stay there” she said, running out to the kitchen and grabbing one out of the fruit bowl, heading straight back to the bedroom “Catch” she said throwing it to him “Baby Brain”

He let out a full body laugh “you got me kiwi” he chuckled “that’s amazing”

“I thought you’d like it” she hugged him “Now go and shave and I’ll drop you home on my way to work”

“Who said I had to shave”

“Lou, and her and Harry will be waiting for you back at your place, so off you go.”

There was no way Harry could go to the studios with Poppy, aside from the fact that his suit was back at his place and he couldn’t turn up in nothing but his boxers, there would be hundreds of fans waiting for his arrival and she knew that he needed security with him. Not only was this a big day for Harry, but it was a big day for Radio 1, it was rare for them to have artists as big as Harry live in the studio, they usually pre-recorded interviews or they were done over the phone, so she needed to be there, to make sure things ran smoothly.

Poppy got dressed, throwing on a pair of leggings and a long jumper, she’d started to gain a bit of weight with the pregnancy, not enough to make it obvious but enough for people to notice, so she stuck with baggy clothes that hung loose around her body. No one at work knew she was expecting yet, she’d told Ben that she needed to take Friday’s for a few weeks to help Harry with a few things, so that she could reduce her stress levels, and when she finally reached 12 weeks, she would tell him the real reason.

Harry came out of the bathroom, clean shaven and dressed in an old shirt of his and a pair of track suit pants.

“You ready?” he asked as she put the final touches on her simple makeup look

“Yah” she nodded, turning around and grabbing her bag and car keys “Are you?”

“No” he admitted, referring not to his physical readiness to leave the flat, but to his readiness for the world to hear the album.

“You know it’s already out back home, it’s been out for a few hours”

“I know, it’s already out here too love, came out at midnight”

“Oh yeah” she said, opening the front door “I might listen to it at some point.” He let out a breathy laugh and followed her out and down the stairs to her car which lived in the basement. The trip to Harry’s house was mostly silent, his nerves evident already, until she remembered her morning sickness.

“You’re going to need to cover for me H”

“What do you mean”

“I don’t usually start work until 9 and by then the morning sickness is usually gone, or at least the vomiting part of it has, but there’s no way I’m going to make it through this morning without puking, so you’re going to have to cover for me, if someone asks you what’s going on”

He chucked a little “I’ll tell them you ate something bad”

“Thanks” she said pulling into his driveway, as he opened the door and punched the code into the gate to open it, she drove in so she could turn her car around and drop him closer to the door. “I’ll see you there H.” He smiled and closed the door behind him, making his way inside.

Harry’s house wasn’t far from the BBC Broadcasting house, and it only took her ten minutes to get there this early in the morning. It was almost 6 am when she walked into the building, the queasy feeling setting in.

“Morning everyone” she said, walking through the door to nick’s studio, handing them a cup of coffee that she’d picked up from the early bird café downstairs

“Hiya” Nick said, taking the coffee from her “Not used to seeing you this early”

“Big Boss Ben’s here, I’m here” Poppy laughed

“He’s not here yet” Nick laughed “But thanks for the coffee”

“Well, we’re supposed to be treating Harry like a celebrity, so I had to come in earlier to prepare myself for that.”

“Big day, guys big day” Ben walked in, plate of ham and cheese croissants in hand, the smell of which made Poppy gag, strong smells were really starting to get to her. “Right” he said “Poppy, is everything organised in the green room?”

“Not yet, but Harry’s requests were very little, just water, tea and fresh fruit”

“Great” Ben said “Alright, you two are live in three minutes” he pointed at Grimmy and Tina, “get yourselves organised and we’ll keep you posted on Harry’s arrival”

Poppy walked out of the room and rushed into the bathroom, locking the stall, and throwing up straight into the bowl of the toilet. Letting out a large sigh, hoping that nothing else was going to come up, she stood and flushed the toilet, using the back of her hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead and leaving the stall, finding Ella, the receptionist looking at her with concern.

“Everything alright?”

She nodded, taking a mint out of her bag and popped it in her mouth “I think I ate something funny last night”

“You’ve been looking like shit in the mornings for a few weeks now, you’re not pregnant, are you?”

She laughed nervously “No, not possible” she lied.

“I don’t believe you, but you’ll tell me when you’re ready” she walked out of the room, and Poppy looked at herself in the mirror, holding onto her stomach, and taking a deep breath before exiting the bathroom. Ella was her work wife, she knew most things about her and she could tell when things weren’t right, and if this wasn’t such a high-risk pregnancy, she would have told her about the baby, but she couldn’t risk it.

Poppy made her way to the green room to get everything set up for Harry, placing a bowl of his favourite fruits and a pot of tea on the table, leaving the water in the mini fridge, because she knew he liked it cold. As weird as treating Harry like a celebrity felt, she knew she had to keep this professional for the sake of Radio One. Harry’s people were also responsible for other high-profile people, and she couldn’t be seen treating Harry differently to them.

The morning ran smoothly, Harry arrived at 6:30, taking photos with Fans outside the building before coming into the green room, where she had his album displayed next to the fruit bowl. The interview with Grimmy ran smoothly too and by the time it was finished, Harry was feeling much more relaxed about the release of the album. Poppy had to duck out of the room a few times, when the morning sickness became too much, and a few people noticed, but she was able to play it off as food poisoning until Grimmy asked.

“You ok hun?” he asked once Harry had left. Poppy and Grimmy had become quite close since she started working for Ben, spending time together in her lunch breaks and outside of work too, usually with Harry around.

“Yeah, just got a bit of food poisoning” she said shyly “Good job at keeping that professional, I know it’s hard when you know all the answers to the questions you’ve got to ask”

“Gotta treat it like work” he nodded “You sticking around today? Or are you out for the day?”

“I’ve got a few emails to respond to and phone calls to make, and then I’m outta here”

“Leave em for Monday babes, go home and get better”

“I second that” Ben called out “You’ve been puking all morning, you had Harry’s team worried for you, and every time you left it looked like Harry wanted to run after you”

“Surprised he doesn’t have food poisoning too, he’s been living in your flat for the last week” Grimmy chimed in

“He gets lonely in his big house” she laughed “refuses to eat what I cook him though”

“I’m still not convinced that you’ve never slept with him” Grimmy said

“I promise you we haven’t”

“Don’t believe ya, you’re too close with each other”

“Swear on my Life”

“Whatever, just make sure he makes me best man at the wedding”

Poppy rolled her eyes and walked away, making her way towards her desk, which sat adjacent to Ella’s, looking out the window. When she sat down, she took a moment, to take a breath and try to settle her stomach. After a few minutes the urge to vomit passed and she got to work, hoping to be out of the office by lunch time. By 11:30 she’d responded to all her emails, scheduled a few guests for the coming months, and worked out Ben’s dairy for the next week, so she decided to call it a day. She packed up her desk and locked her laptop in its cabinet, saying goodbye Ella and Ben before going to find Grimmy.

“I’m out for the day Grim, I’ll see you tomorrow night?” she stuck her head around the corner, where his desk sat

“I think I’m going to head off too, Friday innit” he stood and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair “Shall we grab some lunch, if you’re feeling up to it?”

“Lunch sounds wonderful”

***

May 13th 2017, 8:00pm

This was Harry’s first full show as a solo artist, and he was nervous about it. He’d spent most of the day rehearsing and being a Saturday, Poppy had been at home relaxing, doing some research about her condition, to try and ease her mind. It didn’t work, she’d only stressed herself out even more. That’s why she was glad to be here at the garage, to take her mind off things for a while. She was standing next to Nick and Gemma when Harry walked out on stage with the band. Opening with Ever Since New York had been her idea, because it was an easy song for the crowd to sing along to.

“Oh tell me something I don’t already know” he sang, a smile spread across his face “Sing it” he grabbed the mic off it’s stand and held it out to the audience and they all sang it back to him. Watching Harry perform had always been something she loved, he truly was born for it, but standing there, in a crowd, largely filled with his closest friends and family, singing his songs back to him, was a special moment, there was a sense of solidarity with everyone in that room. They were all in this together, friend, family or fan, they were here for Harry, no matter what.

“Hello” he said into the mic after singing Carolina “I’m Harry, nice to meet you, thank you very much for having me, how are you?” the crowd cheered and Harry spotted Poppy, tears forming in her eyes “Good! Poppy are you crying already?” she laughed, refusing to respond to his mockery, sending him a thumbs up instead “alright, she’s crying already” the crowd laughed and she hid her face in Nicks shoulder “So, my album came out yesterday, and uh, I wanted to do a show, and uh, I’m going to play those songs, for you I hope you enjoy them, and uh, this is my first show in a long time, my first show ever, so it’s a night I won’t forget and I thank you very much for being here with me, this is Meet Me in the Hallway”

Throughout the show, every time Harry made eye contact with Poppy, he’d smile and wave, or make a silly face at her if she wasn’t singing along. Poppy and Nick spent most of the evening dancing along and beaming proudly at their best friend while he had the time of his life on stage. After Harry finished his cover of Ultra Lightbeam, Nick turned to Poppy, with teary eyes “Pretty shit isn’t he”

“Awful, dunno why all these people like him” she joked, tears filling her eyes as well.

“That was not my song, uh thank you so much, uh, it’s uh always a little strange performing after not doing anything for a long time and I uh I’m a little rusty in the joints, I’m overwhelmed, since I put out the single, by your support your continued support, I couldn’t ask for a better group of friends to share this with”

“That’s us” Poppy and Nick said, jumping up and down pointing at themselves

“Yes, I can see you two idiots over there, I like you, you’re my friends” he said looking at them as they both high-fived

“We’ve made it” nick said sarcastically, as Harry introduced the crowd to his band.

The ‘Whoo hoo’s’ from Only Angel, echoed around the room and as Poppy and Nick danced he leant over to her “He’s never going to admit this, but I swear this song is about you”

“It’s just not” she gently pushed nick “he wouldn’t do that”

“He would” he said, yelling out a whoohoo with the crowd.

“I feel very lucky to have some friends and family in the audience tonight, I’d like give a special shout out, to my best friend in the whole wide world Poppy, without her, this album would not have happened, so if you’re near her, uh, I don’t know, maybe give her hug, but uh, be gentle because she’s pre – uh fragile, she’s fragile, uh this is Sweet Creature” he blushed smiling towards Poppy

Gemma turned and gave her a curious look, as a fan tapped Poppy on the shoulder and offered her a hug. She was lovely, asking her a few questions about Harry, while he sang Sweet Creature, a song that she knew was about her for sure. For the rest of the show, Gemma kept a close eye on Poppy, watching as her hands occasionally brushed over her belly while she was dancing.

After the show, Poppy Nick and Gemma, made their way backstage to see Harry. Jeff and Tommy were standing in the corner, trying to find the bottle of champagne that they brought to make a toast with and muster enough glasses for everyone in the room. As they walked in Poppy shot Harry a look, telling him that she noticed his slip up and he mouthed a quiet “sorry” at her, while he continued his conversation with Sarah.

“Great show H” she said to him when he had a free moment. The room was so full of his friends and family that it was hard to move around in such a small space, but it was heart warming to see all these people here to support him.

“Thanks” he smiled “and sorry, about the slip up”

“It’s alright, Gemma may have noticed, but I don’t think anyone else did” she admitted “she might think it’s yours though”

He shrugged “we’ll clear that up when the time comes, let her think it for now if she wants.” Tommy came around and handed them both a glass of champagne and before Poppy even thought about not being able to drink it Jeff was standing on the table trying to get everyone’s attention.

“Guys” he shouted “Can I have your attention for a minute” the room went silent and everyone turned their attention to Jeff “Thanks, I’d just like to give a quick toast to Harry, we’re all proud of you H, it’s a great album, and I’m sure I speak for everyone in this room when I say that we’re excited to see where it takes you, you did a great job tonight and I’m sure that’s the first of many great shows, so” he raised his glass “to Harry”

The room erupted in a toast “To Harry” everyone responded and took a sip of their drinks. Poppy noticed Gemma look at her in that moment, so she brought the glass to her lips, making sure none of the liquid passed throughand handed the glass to Harry as soon as she looked away

“Drink this so Gemma doesn’t get suspicious of my full glass” he nodded, looking over to where Gemma was standing with Anne and downing it like a shot “Christ, I didn’t say skull it”

He shrugged “Didn’t want her to see.”

The venue only allowed everyone to stay for an hour after the show, so Harry invited everyone who was left to go back to his place for a few more drinks, but Poppy was tired, and she decided to call it night.

“I’m going to call it night H, I’m exhausted”

“Alright love, that’s probably a good idea, I’ll call in tomorrow, before I head off to L.A” he said slurring his words a little.

“Thanks” she wrapped her arms around him bringing him in for a hug “I’m proud of you”

“Wouldn’t be here without you love” he smiled “can I call you cab to get you home?”

“I’ll get the tube, it’s fine” she said searching her wallet for her oyster card

“Please” he said “it’s safer”

“Fine” she said, knowing that he wouldn’t give up until she agreed, especially if he was a little drunk.

Poppy got home half an hour later and headed straight to bed, falling asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. Pregnancy was really starting to tire her out, it was rare that she was awake past 10pm anymore and she usually took an afternoon nap. It was strange sleeping without Harry next to her, but she knew she would have to get used it, he was going to be away for the next two weeks and after that he would be constantly going back and forth, getting ready for the tour.

***

June 2nd 2017 – 8 weeks

Poppy sat next to Harry in the waiting room of her Midwife’s offices, waiting for her second scan. The first one had happened at 6 weeks, while Harry was in L.A, filming the Late Late show, and everything had gone well. It looked the baby had positioned itself so that herr condition wouldn’t affect it until later in the pregnancy, which meant that she probably wouldn’t carry until full term, but it wouldn’t cause a miscarriage. None the less, her midwife had suggested she has a scan every two weeks, just to make sure everything stayed on track.

“Poppy” the midwife called, and both her and Harry stood and followed her into an examination room. “This must be Dad?” she said looking at Harry

“No” she shook her head “He’s just here for support, Dad’s not in the picture”

Harry held his hand out to shake her hand “I’m Harry” he said

“Julie” she said, shaking his hand, doing a double take when she recognised his face “Harry Styles?” she questioned

“That’s me” he nodded

“Sorry, Mr Styles, this is very unprofessional of me, but I’m a big fan of your album”

“No you’re fine” he said, smiling “Thank you”

“Alright Poppy, since bubba is still very tiny, today’s scan is going to have to be another internal one, so I’ll give you a second to strip your bottom half down, there’s a gown on the table there that you can put on” she motioned towards the hospital gown that sat folded in plastic wrapping on the bed “and Mr Styles, you’re welcome to stay, but if either of you are uncomfortable, you can sit in the waiting room until we’re finished with the scan”

“He can stay” Poppy said, to smiling at both of them. Julie smiled back and left the room, letting her get changed.

“When she says internal, does she mean, like” he moved his two fingers in an upwards motion “Inside?”

“Up my Vagina Harry” she said bluntly unbuttoning her jeans while he blinked at her bluntness

“Yeah good” he said, voice more high pitched than normal “I’ll stay up here then” he moved towards the head of the examination table

“Good move” she nodded, slipping the gown on and taking her jeans and panties off, laying down on the bed, feet up on the stirrups.

Julie knocked on the door, checking that she was ready and walked back in the room, sitting on the stool at the foot of the bed.

“We ready?” she asked, slipping a pair of gloves on. Poppy nodded and Harry reached down and grabbed her hand. The procedure was a little uncomfortable, like getting a pap smear, but it was worth it when she saw her baby up on the screen.

“Everything’s looking good Poppy” Julie said, turning the screen towards her, “Bubba’s sitting there on the left still, which is where want them to be, we’ve grown quite a bit since last time too, which is a wonderful sign” she felt Harry let out a sigh of relief “Shall we hear the heart beat?” both Poppy and Harry nodded

“Yes please” she said softly, trying to hold back tears

Julie pressed a few buttons on the ultrasound machine, and within seconds she could hear the sound of her baby’s heart for the first time. The last scan was too early for that, the baby was too small, and the technology wasn’t good enough to be able to hear such a small heartbeat. Poppy’s eyes filled with tears and sher felt Harry’s grip on her hand tighten as his other had reached down and started rubbing her shoulder.

“It’s the most beautiful sound in the world isn’t it?” Julie said smiling, “I’ve taken a recording of that for you to take home, I’ll give you two a second, and you can get changed, and when I come back we’ll go through a few things, ok?”

“Great” Poppy said, “Thank you”

She walked out of the room and she sat listening to the heartbeat for a few seconds. “It’s real Harry” the tears were streaming down her face now “There’s a baby in there”

“There’s a baby in there,Pop” he said, wiping her tears away and helping her sit up “I can’t see it, but I can hear it”

Poppy laughed “It’s right there H” she said pointing to the tiny white dot on the screen “Like a little potato.”

“Your little spud” he smiled at her

“Our little spud H” she smiled back “I know it’s not yours, but you’re the closest thing it's got to a Dad”

“Our little spud” he said helping her sit up, and hugging her “Now put some pants on would ya?”

Poppy giggled and climbed down off the bed, picking up her jeans and panties and slipping them back on, discarding the gown onto the table, and taking a seat in the chair next to the desk. A few minutes later Julie walked back into the room, with another woman, who Poppy assumed was her obstetrician.

“Miss Thomas, Mr Styles, this is Doctor Miller, she’s going to be your obstetrician, she specialises in pregnancies like yours and she’s got a few things to talk to you about”

“It’s lovely to meet you both” Dr Miller said, taking a seat at the desk “thanks Julie”

Julie smiled and left the room, leaving them with the doctor.

“Now, I don’t want either of you to be worrying about anything, I’ve taken a quick look at your scan and everything is looking very healthy, baby is growing at the normal rate and your placenta looks healthy too��

“Great” Harry said, placing his hand on Poppy’s thigh

“As I’m sure Julie mentioned last time, pregnancies like this often don’t make it full term, and natural births are rare, so normal procedure is to schedule two different C-section dates, one at 35 weeks, and one at 38 weeks, and throughout the pregnancy we will monitor the growth of the baby and decide what needs to happen when the time comes – are you ok with that?”

“Of course” Poppy nodded

“Great, so 35 weeks would put us at November 17th and 38 weeks would put us at December 8th” Poppy saw the look on Harry’s face, knowing that he was still on tour for both of those dates, and there was no way he could cancel it at this stage. “Now obviously we try our best to let you get to full term, so just because these are booked in doesn’t mean they’re set in stone, what will probably happen in the last few weeks is that you’ll be put on bed rest, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it”

“Good” she nodded

“For now though, you still need to be taking it easy, make sure you’re taking your vitamins and getting enough rest”

Poppy continued nodding along with what she was saying “Has Julie spoken to you about the Harmony test?”

“She mentioned it briefly last time”

“Great, well all it is, is a simple blood test that screens for any genetic abnormalities, and we’re able to tell the sex much earlier than we would be with just scans”

“Cool” Harry said

“It’s not a part of the NHS though, so it’s completely up to you weather you have it or not, it’s quite expensive”

“That’s not a problem” Harry said, looking at Poppy

“I’ll let you two decide if that’s something you want, if you decide to do it, all you have to do is ring up and book in a blood test”

“Wonderful” Poppy smiled

“Alright, I think that’s everything we needed to talk about for this appointment. We’ll continue with the scans every two weeks for the rest of your first trimester, and we’ll reassess from there.”

“Great” she said, picking up her bag “It was lovely to meet you”

“You too” she smiled, opening the door for them.

Poppy and Harry made their way out of the practice and back to his car, ducking theirr heads to avoid being seen. Once they got in the car and they were headed back to Poppy’s flat, Harry spoke.

“I don’t want you to worry about money with this Pop, if you want that test, please book it in, I’ll pay for it, it’s the least I can do, if I’m not going to be here for the birth”

“Me and little spud are going to do everything we can to keep him in there for an extra week until you get back”

“Him?” Harry smiled at her

“It feels like a boy.”

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glassc0ffin · 5 years

Text

Feedback

hee hoo i wrote a tma fic in the form of frankies statement to the institute

words: 2245

warnings: none, except for phil collins and thrown staples

pairing: oc (frankie james)/jonathan sims

[[MORE]]

FRANKIE JAMES:

-That a tape recorder? It's so cute! We've been trying to get one for the station, just so we can say we have one - y'know, to impress the hipsters - but they're well out of my budget. How did you get one?

ARCHIVIST:

I - Uh, it was here when I got the job, it was my predecessor's.

JAMES:

Wow, well, I'm jealous. [GIGGLES] A little tempted for thievery…

ARCHIVIST:

...Right. Would you like to begin your statement?

JAMES:

Oh, yeah, of course.

ARCHIVIST:

Alright. Statement of Frank James, radio DJ at -

JAMES:

Frankie.

ARCHIVIST:

[PAUSE] Frankie James, radio DJ at Tranzishon Rock, London, regarding…?

JAMES:

Uh, a series of...obscene phone calls from an unknown person.

ARCHIVIST:

Recorded direct from subject by Jonathan Sims, head archivist of The Magnus Institute, 21st of September, 2019. Statement begins.

JAMES:

Ah, so, okay. [SIGHS]

ARCHIVIST:

...Are you alright?

JAMES:

Yeah, I just… [SIGHS] I have a hard time...getting words out. I'm not...articulate.

ARCHIVIST:

Would I be able to help?

JAMES:

How would you? It's in my head.

ARCHIVIST:

[SIGHS] You'd be surprised. [PAUSES] When did it start? The phone calls.

JAMES:

On my show. I have a radio show at Tranzishon, late nights, 7 till 10, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Towards the end of the show, from 9 till 10, we do a requests hour. Listeners call, or text, or tweet, or send a carrier pigeon, to ask us to play songs. The last one is only if they're fancy.

ARCHIVIST:

[SNORTS]

JAMES:

[PAUSES]

ARCHIVIST:

[PAUSES] Sorry. You were saying?

JAMES:

[LAUGHS FAINTLY, A LITTLE BREATHLESS] Ah, yeah, erm… [AMUSED] I can't quite remember where I was…

ARCHIVIST:

The requests hour?

JAMES:

Yes! Okay, so, er, I was announcing the requests hour, reading out our phone number and the twitter account, and as soon as I had finished reading the phone number, we got a call. I- We've got a small team of techies - well, two - that handle incoming calls, texts, tweets, whatever. One, Paul, looked up from the switchboard at me and put me through to the listener, and I did my usual spiel. Y'know: [RADIO VOICE] You're listening to Frankie at Tranzishon rock, dear listener, what's your request?

[NORMAL VOICE] And they didn't say anything. There was dead air for a couple of seconds, then as I began to say 'Anybody there?' my headphones are blown out by the sudden high volume. The person on the other end must have been right up on the mic, because there was an immense amount of feedback and white noise. I'm sort of thankful for that, 'cause it nearly covered up what they had to say.

[PAUSES] [DEEP BREATH] I... don't want to repeat what they said. Suffice to say, the techies had some lightning speed reaction time when they cut off the line. There was more dead air as I tried to recover from the shock, I think I made a joke about them wanting the number for Babestation instead.

ARCHIVIST:

[LAUGHS]

JAMES:

[PAUSES] [LAUGHS, WEAKLY] Yeah… Ah, so, w-we banned that number so they wouldn't call again, and I ended the show with Pretty Fly (For a White Guy) by The Offspring. Because I cope with bad experiences by burying them with humour.

[UNDER HIS BREATH] Give it to me, baby. [EVEN QUIETER] Uh huh, uh huh.

[COUGHS]

Uh. Anyway. I went home, had my day off, and went back into work the next night and tried to forget about what happened. And for the most part, I did. The first 2 hours passed without incident, and then when I announced the requests hour, I joked about the caller the other day. My techies looked at each other nervously as I laughed. I gave them a questioning look, but said nothing. I'd ask them after the show. I read the number and twitter and waited for the requests to roll in. Again, we had another phone call straight away. I said my spiel, and my heart was in my throat as I waited for the caller to speak. I looked at my techies. Sheena, my other tech, shrugged at me. I sighed, about to give them a signal to cut them off and answer someone else when the feedback returned, louder and more harsh this time. I threw my headphones onto the desk in front of me, but I still heard the words spilling out of them.

[SWALLOWS] Y'know that scene in Silence of the Lambs? Where Lecter asks Clarice to repeat what that other inmate had said to her? Y'know - [SOUTHERN AMERICAN ACCENT] 'He said, I can smell your cunt.'

ARCHIVIST:

Good lord.

JAMES:

Yeah. It was a bit like that. There was a lot more...squelching with mine, though. Ugh. The techs cut the call, as I knew they would. I was more than a little pissed off. I started playing a song someone had tweeted and turned off my mic, turning to my techies. I asked them, why didn't you ban them like you said you would last time? Sheena said she did, that she guessed they were using a payphone or something to harass us. Paul tentatively asked if we should inform the police, and I told him to F off. We've had no help from coppers in the past when we had Nazis and TERFs flooding our lines calling us all sorts of shit, why would they help now? Cops avoid gays like the plague unless its for propaganda. So, Paul backed down.

Before the song ended, I quickly mentioned that maybe we shouldn't take calls anymore, just texts and tweets. I didn't want it to come to that, not really. I ended the show again with a song from a small local band, earning me a shoutout on their twitter. That felt good, at least.

I went home, picking up a 6-pack of Stella on the way. I wanted to make sure I slept that night. As I sat on the tube, a good 20 minute journey to my flat, my phone began to ring. At that moment, it didn't strike me that it shouldn't have been able to get any reception underground, yet there it was, ringing in my hand. I was more annoyed at it interrupting my music, but I answered anyway. It was the same fucking caller. I couldn't hit the 'disconnect' button fast enough. But I still heard what he said. [LAUGHS SHAKILY] At least the guy has some imagination. Never the same thing twice. [VOICE BREAKS, STUTTERING] I looked around the tube to see if anyone would be witnessing my quickly approaching panic attack, and finding no-one in the compartment with me, I broke down. The next 15 minutes passed with a blur, and then I reached my station, tears stopping as fast as they had came.

I stepped off the tube and started walking in the direction towards my flat, and my phone started ringing again. My breath caught in my chest as I froze on the pavement, phone vibrating away in my pocket. I picked it up, screen lit up and facing toward the ground. Slowly, I turned it up, half shutting my eyes, as if the person on the other end wouldn't be able to see me if I couldn't see the phone. [SIGHS] Stupid. It was my mum's phone number. I answered, talked with her for a little bit - she lives a ways away, I don't get to see her a lot - and said goodnight when I got to my flat. I got blackout and passed out on my couch when I got in. Yeah, I know I'm a lightweight. When I woke up at 12pm, my TV was still on, replaying the DVD menu for Black Christmas - the 1974 version. I guess in my Stella-crazed state I was desperate to watch it again.

The entire day, I left my phone switched off. My boss won't be too pleased with me, especially after 2 shows of mine had very explicit profanity, thanks to our mystery caller, but I didn't care.

[PAUSES]

Listen, I-I know, alright? I know it sounds stupid, I know I probably sound like a pearl-clutching housewife, how scandalous that I'm terrified of a few dirty phonecalls, but...you didn't hear them. You wouldn't want to hear them. Paul, Sheena, and I certainly didn't. At least they only heard them at the station…

Thankfully, on the Friday, we had decided not to do requests hour. Yeah, a few listeners would be upset, but the more loyal listeners would understand when one person ruins it for everyone else. We just settled for the last hour of the show to be requests from Paul and Sheena. Strangely enlightening, but I don't wish to hear any more Phil Collins than is necessary. And with Paul, he seems to think 10 songs is necessary. It isn't.

ARCHIVIST:

[OFFENDED] What's wrong with Phil Collins?

JAMES:

Apart from the fact that we're a punk rock station?

ARCHIVIST:

Fair enough. You were saying?

JAMES:

Okay, so, ah… I was on my way home again, and had all but forgotten the mystery caller. We'd figured it had just been some weirdo that got bored of us cutting him off. But as I was walking from the tube station from my flat, I heard that ear-splitting feedback again. Doubling over in pain, I reached up to pull my headphones off, only to find that I had left them at the radio station. I pressed my fists to my ears, crumpling to the ground as the whine of someone being too close to a microphone pierced my eardrums. I felt something cold trickle out of my ear. I didn't have to check my hand to guess that it was blood. I hyperventilated as I lay on the ground. Something was shouting, screaming at me, screeching slurs and threats of what it wanted to do to me, what it will do to me. I remember vomiting, and then blacking out as the overlapping cacophony reached a fever pitch.

I woke up not too far from where I had passed out, £10 and a phone lighter. It was probably some homeless guy who took them, and honestly, I'm not too bothered. I'm more angry no-one took me to a doctor or something. I think, the last thing I saw before I passed out was someone standing in the distance. Staring. Yeah, it could have been some rando, but the image stuck with me.

They were silhouetted against the bright signs of the takeaways on the street behind them, hands stretching too far down, a little too tall. I might have been delusional or in the throes of oxygen deprivation or something, but I swear I saw it smile as I lost consciousness.

I haven't been back to my flat. I've been staying with Sheena for the past couple of days. She's alright, but I can tell she wants me out. She doesn't want what's happening to me to happen to her.

ARCHIVIST:

Statement ends. ...Are you alright?

JAMES:

[SNIFFS] Er, I - Uh, I should be, in a bit. Thanks for, uh...I don't know. Listening?

ARCHIVIST:

It's my job.

JAMES:

Is that it then? What happens now?

ARCHIVIST:

We'll get in contact with you if we find anything out.

JAMES:

Oh! Then, you'll probably need this then. [SCRIBBLING]

ARCHIVIST:

[SHOCKED NOISE] Wh- What are you doing?

JAMES:

Giving you my phone number, what's it look like?

ARCHIVIST:

Well, I'm sure you can give it to me on paper, not my hand! And didn't you say your phone was stolen?

JAMES:

[SCRIBBLING STOPS] Oh. Yeah. Well, if I ever get it back, then. You know where to call.

ARCHIVIST:

R-Right. Goodbye, Mr. James.

JAMES:

Frankie.

ARCHIVIST:

...Goodbye, Frankie.

[CLICK]

ARCHIVIST:

Mr. James -- Frankie's behaviour was certainly... strange during our conversation. He kept looking at me, pausing and then quickly looking away again, having to restart his sentence whenever he did so. Maybe he realised that he had virtually no evidence to back up his testimony. The only witnesses we have are this Sheena and Paul, and they can only back up the instances of the phone calls happening at the radio station, not anywhere else. Conveniently, Frankie does not appear to record his mobile phone calls, so we have no evidence the phone call on the tube happened. Assuming it even could happen.

Furthermore, his constant stuttering only made me think he was making the whole thing up. Maybe he just wants a story for his show. He --

TIM:

Knock, knock. Was that Frankie James?

ARCHIVIST:

Yes, i-it was -- Tim, saying 'Knock, knock' is not a good substitute for knocking.

TIM:

Did I hear you saying that he was making it up because he was stuttering?

ARCHIVIST:

Well, yes. It's a common tell for lying.

TIM:

It's a common tell for a huge goddamn crush.

ARCHIVIST:

What?

TIM:

Oh, come on. You didn't notice?

ARCHIVIST:

No, n-no, I didn't.

TIM:

Jon, he was the colour of a tomato. He wrote his phone number on your hand! Look, he even drew a heart, for god's sake.

ARCHIVIST:

[MUTTERING] Hmm, yes, I suppose it does look like a heart… No, don't be ridiculous, Tim.

TIM:

[IN A SING-SONG VOICE] Jon has got a boyfriend, Jon has got a boyfriend!

ARCHIVIST:

Are you twelve?! Get out! [SOMETHING CLATTERS ON THE GROUND]

TIM:

Ow! Stop throwing staples at me!

[CRASHING SOUND]

[CLICK]

#fics #my writing #frankie #📖#owo i love him..

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femmedplume · 6 years

Text

Bastille @ the Wiltern (aka How Dan Smith Kissed Me)

Okay friends, strap in, this is gonna be a ride -- partially because I’s super excited, and partially because this is my ONE CHANCE to get revenge for the millions of SPN Con breakdowns I’ve had to read over the years, lol. ((BUT, because I am a nice nice Stitch, I shall put a read more break and you can scroll to the bottom if all you want to read is the kiss part lol.))

To start off, dis me and mah buddy Mikey ( @gnaist)

We have known each other since fucking JUNIOR HIGH, and (as I told him last night,) there are v v few people I enjoy enough to tolerate them for over twenty years, let alone still actively want to see them. Dis guy? He dat guy. :) And he also puts up with me with minimal complaining.

Mikey and I share a birthday week, and we usually do something together (just us) during September to celebrate. This year, he was sweet enough to agree that our Birthday Shenanigans™ should take place at the ONE gig Bastille’s playing in LA -- not because he's a fan, but because I am. #FriendshipGoals

So first, I got all dolled up, with fancy pink and purple hair and Bastille-themed nails:

(That’s 00:15 for their song Quarter Past Midnight, a ∆ , and a letter for each member of the band: Charlie (guitar), Woody (drums), Will (bass), Kyle (keyboards), and Dan (lead singer))

Then, I drove to Mikey’s and gave him his half of our newest tradition: Birthday Socks!! One for me and one for him.

We had dinner at this awesome patisserie close to Mikey’s awesome new place (shoutout to him for Adulting and buying his first condo!) We also got cake because Birthday Shenanigans™.

The food was super tasty, and the cakes were CHOCOLATE AF (don’t talk to me about my allergies, okay? Is mah BIRTHDAY)

We were running late, so we actually ate in the Lyft (the driver was nice enough to let us, and we were careful not to spill.) We got to the Wiltern at 7pm, JUST as they started letting people in.

Once we got in, we got overpriced (but very tasty) drinkies (Birthday Shenanigans™)

And then Mikey informed me that if we were going to a concert, we were getting merch. (Mikey is v v wise and a literal doctor, so I 100% believe anything he tells me.) We got shirts!

He got a cute Quarter Past Midnight shirt (that was also unusually soft and high quality,) and I got the tie-dye one that’s based off Dan Smith’s actual shirt. I’mma cut up the collar like I do with all my shirts because I hate t-shirt collars.

Then we went inside the actual theatre, which is an Art Deco beauty. They’d taken out all the seats, but the orchestra section has many shallow levels/risers, and people could basically choose which section they wanted to stand in. There was a bar INSIDE the theatre. The lighting was too low for good pics, but you can sorta see in this:

The very front pit and center section were filled with people who hadn’t sauntered in four hours late with chocolate mousse cake -- but there was space off to the right where we could stand and only two people were in front of us. YAY!

Then we waited. And waited. AND WAITED LIKE WTF PEOPLE?? I figure the Wiltern wants to give people time to buy drinks and stuff, but two HOURS???

Finally, about 9pm, the support act came on: a female singer named Fletcher? Anyone heard of her? Anyway, she was really good, had a gorgeous voice -- although we couldn’t understand what she was singing, but that was more because of the mic set up.

(Das her. V petite and blonde and has a looooot of songs about breakups, lol.)

Once Fletcher finished her set, there was another break while the road crew set up Bastille’s equipment. It was sort of fun to watch, because they’re all English blokes so they’re chatting away in cute accents while they’re doing the setup.

And then, FINALLY, Bastille came on stage.

And it.

Was.

WORTH IT.

They went hard from the moment they stepped on stage, and kept the energy up the entire time.

I cannot fully express to you how electric they are live -- but let’s just say that all the good pictures are Mikey’s because a) he is the bestest of friends and played cameraman for the evening -- but also b) I was too busy jumping around with Dan to get any actual images of Dan jumping around

He even raced up to the balcony during Flaws, WHILE SINGING and dancing. (I was a bit disappointed he didn’t come by where we were standing, but I was also happy for the balcony peoples because you don’t normally get to interact much in the balcony. Also: ART DECO!!!)

Dan Smith’s voice was PEAK HONEY, and he did all the songs I hoped he would: The Draw, Blame, Quarter Past Midnight...hell, I’ll just show you the set-list, which I got to see after the show:

(The girl holding it was the one who got to keep it -- she was super sweet and a HUGE fan who’d been to tons of concerts but had never gotten a hold of a set-list, so we were all happy she finally got one! :D)

SIDENOTE:

During the show, there was this moment in the song Bad Blood where Dan came over to the side of the stage where we were standing. Now, the camera lens makes it seem like we were farther away than we were, like this:

When in reality we could see more like this:

So the band could see our faces, too. So during Bad Blood, Dan’s singing, and I’m singing along with him (like a goober) and I raised my hand like you do when you’re feeling a song...

and he RAISED HIS HAND BACK AND SANG TO ME!

For like, two seconds, but still. It was a MOMENT.

After that, I was floating on Cloud 9 -- so when the concert ended, I was ready to call it a perfect night. But when we went out (the back exit, as it was closer,) Mikey mentioned that because the line had stretched around the far corner of the Wiltern, we’d never gotten a chance to get a pic of the actual marquis.

So we paused, and I looked back at the theater alley and thought -- huh, I wonder if they might...come out afterwards? Mebbe sign a few things? I has this nice shirt I spent too much money on...mebbe they sign my nice shirt, eh?

So Mikey went to get his pic of the marquis, which came out FABULOUSLY:

And then we settled in to wait at the end of the alley where we thought they might come out. Turns out, we were at the wrong end. So after like, 30 mins of waiting on one end, we (there were like, 20 of us) meandered over to the OTHER end of the alley, where the band’s cars were waiting and the crew was loading out the equipment.

BTW, the Bastille crew? Super sweet, English and American, and those boys fucking HUSTLED. They were rolling 300-400lb equipment into this semi, basically doing the world’s largest game of Tetris, trying to fit everything in. We was all v v impressed.

They also brought us water?? Because we’d been waiting for an hour and a half at this point and they felt bad, like...?? AND THEN, they gave us the balloons from the set!!

And all the fans were really nice, and started taking the bunches of balloons apart so that everyone who wanted a balloon could have one (I got a green one, mah favorite color!)

So we’re waiting. And waiting. And WAITING GODDAMN DON’T THEY HAVE CLOCKS IN ENGLAND??

The crew finishes loading, the semi backs out, still we wait. Their manager finally comes out and says that yes they’re coming out, but probably only going to take a couple of group shots with all of us/not sign anything or chat. Why? Because the boys are exhausted. He tells us they’ve flown from England to Sacramento to Vegas to LA in 3 days and played 4 shows, soo... understandable situation.

EXCEPT for this one fan, who started whining at the manager. “I didn’t wait ALL THIS TIME for some fucking group shot, I want a SELFIE!” “I need Dan to take a pic of me with my SIGN!!” (She kept harping about her sign... is no even a good sign?)

Then, when it looked for a second like maybe the boys weren’t coming out at all, she snaps “You PROMISED they were coming!!” >:( The tone of this person’s voice, man -- you know the one? Like she’s Sharon at the Walmart and they were out of stock of Pantene Pro-V or some shit and they OWED HER some gotdamn PANTENE and where is the manager?? Ugh.

Anywho, the boys come out. (Except Will. He might have already fallen asleep, IDK lol.) But there was a Dan and a Kyle and a Woody, and they all not ONLY took some group shots, but DID give hugs and stuffs.

(Dan giving hugs. Woody, who was totally smiley and friendly and not a miserable git like this pic makes him look...right after this moment he ran over and gave the girl next to me a hug. Kyle was off to my right, giving many hugs and taking many pictures.)

(Dan in a taco hat a fan had given him. Woody heading back after giving many hugs.)

(Dan apologizing profusely because someone gave him a shirt for a present and he hadn’t realized that there was an image of a nekkid lady in the art collage on the front, and we were all ladies and he didn’t want us to feel uncomfortable or think he was a misogynist so he covered it up oh god he’s such a cinnamon roll I cannot!)

And now, the moment you’ve been waiting for: THE KISS.

So, during the interminable waiting, (literally, TWO HOURS PLUS, you guys!) several of us started chatting -- during the chat, it came up that I has made a Bastille art. I showed the ladies this pic:

because we were all talking about Dan shaving his head and I was trying to convince them it was actually kinda hot, lol.

They really liked the art!! :D So much so that they convinced me (after many prods and encouragements) to show the art to Dan. And I was gonna do it, honest! I was super brave and not at all terrified.

But then came the whole they’re too tired thing and I was like, eh, mebbe no?

And THEN, Superbitch Fan was standing right next to me DEMANDING that Dan take a selfie with her and her sign. (Which he did, like a sweetheart.) Then when he went to turn to me, Superbitch decided she didn’t like the first pic, and PUSHED IN FRONT OF ME AND PAST THE SECURITY BARRIER to demand he take another one.

Which he did, like a sweetheart -- but then turned past me, probably so she couldn’t grab him again. So I figured, lost cause, right?

Wrong. As he turned back, I was holding the phone out, but not quite up, kind of undecided -- and it caught his eye.

Daniel Campbell Smith GASPED, CLUTCHED HIS HEART

and said “Wow.” Looked at the pic, then back to me, said, “Did you...”

And I held it up and said “Um, yes, I made you...an art?” (Because you know, what are words and why would I, a writer, know how to use them?)

And he just gaped, like HE had no words -- and then leaned in and KISSED ME ON THE CHEEK.

And not a peck, either?? Like a firm, full on “you are amazing and so is your art thing thank you so much” kiss for several seconds??

AND MIKEY GOT THE PIC!

TL;DR:

It may be blurry, but there it is! Immortalized for all time, the moment Daniel Cinnamon Roll Smith liked my artwork SO MUCH he had to kiss me to say thank you.

And then, dear friends, I died.

I have, in fact, been writing this diary from my condo on the edge of the Lake of Fire in Hades. Because I’m dead.

BEST. NIGHT. EVER!!**

((Bonus: Mikey is now a Bastille fan! He really liked the concert, and is going to make his own playlist based on the concert’s set list. I’m so freaking happy we got to share that!! :DDDD))

((Super-bonus: Look in the right-hand corner of the kiss pic. See that woman looking like she’s having her night ruined? THAT was Superbitch. HA!))

**All credit to @gnaist for taking pictures of the entire night, even when I didn’t know he was shooting lol.

#this has been the entirely true diary of your friendly neighborhood Stitch #thanks for reading #I promise I'll post some video of the concert in a bit #stitch in real life #bastille #dan smith: deep enough to drown #concert #the wiltern #live music #fanart #IDK what else to tag this but I feel like I's missing something?#oh!#the doctor and stitch

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egoiistas · 7 years

Photo

022218 Warm Embrace

@b-griveros: It was nice to do a first collaboration with Mar; she sent me the reference and I couldn’t get the image out of my head. I needed to draw. And then, with this new perspective Marilyn captures perfectly the atmosphere between them two. I f*cking love this woman and I’m thankful she’s been inspiring and motivating me to improve over the past months. Thank you so much for existing, Marilyn, and I hope everyone gets a little warm ache in the chest.

Rated: T for cursing. || Words: ~1400

“Come here.”

“Colonel.”

“Lieutenant, give me your hand.”

She didn’t lack the temptation, but - “At any moment, someone can walk in.”

“So Breda will let us know.”

“It’s really… it’s all right, I’m all right. Your coat… it’ll be enough.”

“No…” From his seat, he reached blindly for her hand. “Come here. ….just rest now.”

A mixture of determination, ire, concern, and adrenaline surged through her veins. Rebecca Catalina was hellbent on finding Riza, but even hell hath no fury like a woman on a mission to find her comrade-at-arms, her closest friend…

The only sister she’s ever known.

After victory was assured, amidst the mayhem, literal hours went on trying figure out which hospital Riza and the Colonel had been sent to and her heart plunged, desperation brimming at the cusp, because only Mustang’s wellbeing had been reported. What about his adjutant, the Lieutenant? She had asked. The blonde who was always next to him, where was she? She’s important too. If not more. The hours of radio silence felt like decades, and her exhaustion served to irritate her more than she already was. How difficult was it, really, to find someone who had been in the heart of it all? How do you misplace the decorated matchstick?

Eventually, coms were re-established and she pestered a military police officer who wasn’t shit. She successfully coerced the “sensitive information” she needed from the MP, commandeered the nearest vehicle she could find, and Rebecca floored it soon after.

Surprisingly, the roads maintained orderly traffic, but her destination… this hospital could only be properly described as jungle. The outside was busy with temporary medic tents erected outside of the building. The sheer amount of people, the amount of blood, the amount of disorganization. She faltered, momentum lost as the reality of their actions began to set in. She weaved through rushing doctors in bloodied coats, patients hobbling in crutches, and the injured yet to be processed.

Inside, the chaos crackled through the atmosphere like lightning with thunderous volume. Orders were shouted. People were crying, searching for relatives, hoping they were alive. The noise overwhelmed her internal ramblings. For that one second stolen breath, she thought to herself any one of these could have been Riza: wounded, missing an arm, or worse, killed in action.

Mustang’s battle had been won, to be sure, but it was the footsoldiers, the normies, and the people that didn’t use alchemy that took the brunt of someone else’s ideals. They were the ones that got burned. Each day that Riza was in Central, Rebecca worried that one day she might not call back. She threw away the notion that soldiers died valiantly for their cause, because no death was valiant enough to ever vanquish Riza Hawkeye. The feeling that she would possibly not come back felt like a knife to her ribs.

In between skirting through throngs of people, Rebecca wondered the extent of Riza’s injuries. She was thankful when she wasn’t immediately redirected towards the morgue, but her blood pressure began to rise at the thought she had sustained injuries for him. Her friend’s indomitable loyalty to the Flame Colonel was a mystery, despite her full disclosure as to why. No matter the amount of pleading Rebecca would do, Riza would not be moved; even when they went so far as to place her in a fucking hostage position as the Fuhrer’s - well, former Fuhrer’s assistant, she thought savagely as she turned down another corridor.

At the end of it, an innocuous pair leaned casually against the wall, but Rebecca knew a post when she saw it. Fuery noticed her quickly enough and Breda stood at attention soon after.

She didn’t care how she must look to the two of them, storming down the hallway at full tilt, hair a mess and blood staining her pants.Hands on her hip, she asked, “Are they in there?”

The older one raised his eyebrows. “They could be.” He turned to look down the hall. “Or they could be elsewhere.”

It was not the answer she was looking for. Her vexed glare shifted to the smaller one, “Is she in there?” Honestly, it was all she cared about. But if he was in there, she would be too.

She saw the Adam’s apple bobbing in Fuery’s throat. Rebecca had heard from Jean he’d been sent to the front lines in the south, but no matter how many times that crossed her mind, he still looked like a kid just out of the academy.

Breda sighed loudly as Fuery’s saving grace. “They’re both in there,” Breda interrupted as he stepped forward. He dipped his head with his unfortunate haircut, urging her to do the same. “But it’s on a need to know basis. Better if they’re not disturbed,” he said lowly.

Rebecca scoffed. “For the love of-” She was interrupted by stretchers being carried past them, like a procession. Some were covered. She whispered with exasperation, “What, are they fucking in there?”

Fuery choked inelegantly and Breda’s brow flattened. “If you have to, then go in quietly. They’re refusing treatment until everyone else is taken care of. Pretty reckless if you ask me, considering the Lieutenant’s condition.”

Rebecca began to vault forward and she nearly tore off the arm that was set in front of her.

“We’ve already tried to convince her.” Breda’s voice betrayed the exhaustion she knew they were all feeling, in the comedown from hours of adrenalin and gunfire. “She refuses to get seen until he does and vice versa. If you really know her, then you know how stubborn she is - both of them are.”

Rebecca frowned.

“But there aren’t enough doctors to go around,” said Fuery, as if he caught on to her displeasure in Breda’s answer. “There are too many wounded, even more dead,” he continued solemnly, like he knew it first hand. She supposed he did. The field of battle today wouldn’t have been a far cry from his stint in the south.

“Go in, if you can promise to be quiet.”

She rose an eyebrow that said, “Me? Quiet?”

The two of them glared at her, clearly not buying it.

She threw up her hands in surrender, and after a moment he opened the door for her.

She walked into a small room, the kind of waiting rooms designed for family members to privately wait for a relative’s operation or the like. When the door closed behind her, it was as if the maelstrom outside simply faded away into obscurity. Here, the room was washed in a softer spring light. It was a significant contrast to the hard, sterile fluorescents outside, free from the turmoil outside, like a separate, tranquil haven from the rest of the world. In here it was like the Promised Day was a figment of her imagination; a hazy machination conjured up in the midst of a fevered dream. It made no sense for such an undisturbed space to exist alongside the events of today.

Until, she spotted them and her heart pulsed out of her chest.

In the corner, crowded on one of the more comfortable armchairs, they rested, curled up against each other. They were unmoving and silent, but their sounds of sleep filled the room once she toned out the noise outside. She stepped closer. Her muddied boots suddenly seemed far too loud - but they didn’t stir.

There was so much blood; it horrified her. It splattered on her friend’s cheeks, stained her clothes and hair, and smeared his hands; which, she realised had deep cuts in the middle of them. The blood had obviously congealed in an effort to stem the flow of bleeding, but Rebecca could still see it glistening on the back of his hands, sluggish and dark with oxidisation. Despite his injuries, his hands clasped over her sleeping figure in a protective hold like she was his lifeline or better, to hold her steady while she was wearing so thin.

It couldn’t have been very comfy, she surmised, huddled together like with the cuts and blood and sweat, limbs bunched up over his. She studied Riza’s face, pale and anemic, even under the softer afternoon light; how her ashen complexion only served to highlight the dark and sagging skin under her eyes - like she hadn’t slept well for weeks. Her expression told another story. The lines Rebecca had become familiar with were gone. The tension in her body had vanished. It looked like it was the best damn sleep she’s had in a long time. And he wasn’t wearing that stupid coat because she was.

Crossing arms over her chest, Rebecca favored and shifted to one leg, sighing, and without wanting to, Rebecca smiled.

The sneak, she went and found herself a nice man in Central before her.

a/n: MEGA BIG SHOUTOUT TO @tsaritsa who basically shaped and shined this better than i had it. ilysm. AND BARBARA. KSDFJHDJKSFHSJ YOUR WORK IS CONTINUOUSLY INSPIRING ME ;_; ilysm too kfdjhdjkfhs (wheres my moon emoji)

#rebecca catalina #royai #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #fma #fullmetal alchemist #fma fanfiction #*shine #can you believe babs let me post this dkfjhsdfkjs wtith the fic i wrote for her like???????#sdkfjshdjfkhsjfk #im so honored #i hope you enjoy/ed this random little collab #babs constantly has me on my knees with her work #and ana #my sunshine #hahah you made this so much better #also i love you all too for the support

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demonsonthemoon · 5 years

Text

Veni, Vedi - Chapter 3

Fandom: Pacific Rim Pairings: Eventual Newt/Hermann/Vanessa Word Count: 7611 Summary: Everything changed after they collapsed the Breach. Newt lost the thing he had dedicated his life to. Hermann lost all of his certainties, and gained a family. Vanessa found something to hope for again. And, somehow, all of their lives got tangled together.

Also available on AO3.

HERMANN

In the days that followed Operation Pitfall, Hercules Hansen took chage of the PPDC. It was amazing how quickly the money flooded back into their hands, now that the War was over and the government needed to make themselves look good to their citizens again. The Jaeger programm was no longer a failing system that had disappointed the population. It was a heroic group of people who had made enormous sacrifices to save all of humanity. It had once again reached its previous status as a symbol of international solidarity. Any politician in their right mind obviously wanted a piece of that.

The heads of every PPDC division – which included Newt and Hermann as leaders of K-Science - had been invited to a meeting with United Nations representatives. The general response to this invitation had been a despising scoff. Although most people agreed that the PPDC would still have a role to play in the coming years, the Wall of Life disaster had created a rift between the organisation and world governments. This meant they would have to find a way to establish the PPDC as an international institution without government support, and Hermann didn't envy Marshall Hansen the task.

Diplomacy had never been Hermann's forte.

Still, the United Nations invitation had urged him and Newton to seek out the Marshall for a private meeting on the future of K-Science in particular.

“I'm not gonna beat around the bush here,” Newton started in his usually brash manner. “But like... We need to keep K-Sci running. This division should be a priority and I know I've been saying this for years, but it's important.”

Marshall Hansen started rubbing his forehead, as if warding off an incoming headache. It was how Hermann often thought about Newton too.

“I know, Dr. Geiszler. I know and, trust me, I'm going to do my best to keep this Shatterdome running so you can access your lab but... Realistically, this base is going to be shut down sooner than later.”

“You don't understand.” Newton was already raising his voice, but Hermann couldn't really fault him. Drifting with the Hivemind had kept alive in them the sense of urgency that most people had lost with the news of their victory. “I know we've all been looking the other way and celebrating and that's fine, that's normal, we're all human beings who enjoy the-world-is-no-longer-ending parties, but the Breach? The Breach was opened on purpose by beings from another world. Was opened. Like... it didn't do it on its own. The Precursors? If they really want to invade this world, they won't stop now. They'll open a new Breach. They'll send new kaiju. Or something else. Something worse. We might have closed one Breach, but they know where to find us.” Newton stopped, needing to find his breath again. He turned to Hermann, who had previously been standing silently beside him.

“Dr. Geiszler is right. The possibility that a new Breach will open is well above zero. And if we want to be able to defend ourselves... K-Science is still one of our best assets.”

“See? Even Hermann agrees with me. If this doesn't tell you how important this division is, I don't know what will.”

Hermann rolled his eyes. He happened to agree with Newton quite often, but the man was absolutely insufferable everytime he let him know.

“Also, in my case specifically, we have to act quickly. We have a very limited amount of kaiju samples, and they can corrupt over time. I mean, shoutout to the people in Vladivostok 'cause they revolutionised organ preservation, but even their technique isn't perfect. And that's without taking into account the fact that a lot of the samples we get are already damaged by bad storage conditions before they get to us. So what I mean is...”

Newton trailed off then, and turned towards Hermann.

“We need help,” he continued after a pause. “We need funds. We need time. We need facilities. We need people. There's too much at stakes here for Hermann and me to be handling it on our own, and we...”

He trailed off again. This time, Hermann knew what Newt wanted him to say.

“We need to rest.”

Newton looked grateful. Hermann understood where the feeling was coming from. They had both been working for so long with barely any time for themselves, and in those days they had been okay with it, they had even been thankful. They had been given a chance to continue their work, the most important work of their lives, and they were determined not to waste that opportunity. But now... Now it was dawning on them both how painful it had all been. But that was difficult to say out loud. It was very hard to admit that they were human after all.

“I hear what you're saying, doctors,” Marshall Hansen replied with a sigh. He looked much too human himself in this moment. “I hear what you're saying, and trust me when I say that I'm going to try to keep your division running in the best possible conditions for as long as I can. But the chance is still very high that we won't be able to afford keeping things as they are. You deserve my total honesty, so I'll say it plainly: your best bet right now is to make arrangements to transfer your research to academic circles.” Hermann and Newton shared a glance. They had both worked within academia before, they knew very well what the limits of that system were. “I admire you both. I know you're not military to your core, but you stayed with the PPDC until the end, despite awful conditions, because you believed in what we were doing. You saved us. I admire you, and I'm glad to hear that you're devoted to continuing this work. But you also both have lives outside of this. And I can't ask you to put them on hold any longer.”

“But,” Newton blurted out. “We just told you! There's so much work to-”

“I told you that I heard what you were saying, Dr. Geiszler. But there's no way we'll be able to support or pay our K-Science division for much more than a month, at least not if we want to stay independent. And definitely not if we need to hire more people to help. We're working on alternatives. But in the meantime I would advise you to finish what you absolutely need to do here and then leave. We'll stay in touch with you. Trust me, by now we know how valuable you are.”

Newton was still fuming. Hermann knew that he had hoped to secure the promise that a new team would join them, so that they could pass on their research while they took some time to visit their family, and then get back to work as usual. Instead he had been told that he had even less time than they'd expected, and that they were on their own.

Hermann put a hand on one of his shoulders, and felt Newton immediately relax. He frowned slightly, but stayed in place, turning towards Marshall Hansen. He was watching them both with understanding in his eyes, though Hermann couldn't be sure what that understanding was directed at.

“Thank you for your time,” Hermann said.

Marshall Hansen nodded, and Hermann did the same. He turned to leave, Newt in tow.

It was late enough that they could have headed to the mess hall for dinner, but Hermann thought they needed to have a private conversation. So he lead them to their lab instead. As they walked, the sound of his cane echoed through the empty halls.

It had only been three days.

Only three days, and already people had started leaving. Enough people that it was noticeable.

When they finally entered the lab, Newton immediately went to his side of it, turning his back on Hermann to pick up some notes that had been left haphazard on his desk.

It took him a moment to notice Hermann's gaze on his neck.

“What?” He snapped.

Hermann stilled. “I wanted to speak with you.”

“Sure,” Newton replied with fake cheer before leaning back against his deck in a poor imitation of casualness. “What's up?”

“We can't go on like this.”

“Of course,” Newton said, before turning away and ignoring him once more.

Hermann forced himself not to start shouting immediately, forced himself to think of another way for this to go.

“I'm not against you in this, Newton. You know that. I've never been against you.”

“You sure have a nice way to show it!” The other man snarled, not bothering to look in his direction.

Hermann froze under the assault of a memory, under the sound of his own voice: And that is when he goes... completely insane. He heard it and felt the words bite at his skin, because they reminded him of so many times the same adjective had been used to describe him, but also because they came from Hermann, Hermann, who was supposed to get it, who was supposed to be better than all of them.

“I didn't mean it like that. You know I didn't.”

“I don't know shit, Hermann!” Newton shouted, finally looking back. “I don't know shit anymore because all of my thoughts are jumbled up with yours and memories of the kaiju, and figuring out where all these different urges come from, figuring out what I actually think takes an eternity and it's driving me up the wall because I need to be able to think! That's all I'm freaking good for! And I can't do it anymore!”

“I know! Do you think it's not the same with me? Do you think it doesn't scares me too, all the things I know about you? All the things I know about the kaijus? But that's why you need to listen!” They were both shouting now, and that felt familiar, reassuring. But a fight wasn't what Hermann was looking for. “You won't get anywhere by acting like this. By lashing out. We both need to take time and figure out how we can fix ourselves before we can do any work of value.”

“Oh my god, Hermann, I can't believe I have to say this. We're not broken. Like, theoretically? We're better know. We're two people with massive intellects, possibly the two best scientists of our generation, and now we have access to each other's knowledge and that should make us amazing. That's how it's supposed to work. But no, instead we're just two idiots left shouting at each other because we can't work anymore and all the cool side-effects have been replaced by horrible PTSD and they're taking our lab and...”

“NEWTON!” Hermann interrupted his colleague's rambling before it turned into a full-on monologue. This wasn't how he wanted things to go. He was tired of the fights, as comforting as they felt. “We drifted with a kaiju. We drifted with a kaiju using substandard equipment and while already exhausted and on edge. You did it twice. Of course it's going to have consequences. Of course these consequences will be unpleasant.”

“I know! I'm not an idiot, damnit,” Newton said, stepping closer and right into Hermann's comfort zone. “But right now I need to be able to work. Because nobody else is going to get this done, and because we don't have enough time, and because I'm not myself if I'm not working. Because if I stop working I'll start missing a wife I don't actually have, Hermann! If I stop working, I'll start thinking about how I haven't seen my mother in fifteen years, my dad in eight, and how my uncle died three years ago and I was enough of an idiot to think that making the trip overseas for his funeral wasn't worth it, so what kind of home does that leave me with except for here?”

Hermann could feel Newt's pain, his anger. Anger at his mother for leaving him when he was a child, for becoming a distant relative, a stranger he was scared he still felt indebted to. Disappointment, too. Guilt. Grief for his uncle's death, for the one man who had ever truly managed to make him understand what home and family meant. For the man who had taken him in when he had moved to the States to go to MIT, the man who had listened to him like he was brilliant instead of just weird. And pain, pain caused by the realisation that time had passed, that he would see his father again and they would be strangers to one another.

So that was where Hermann's own bitterness at the idea of going home came from. It was Newton's.

That was what it meant to be connected by the Drift. That was what pilots meant when they talked of becoming something bigger than themselves. But did they all feel so lost? Torn between two halves of who they had become, not knowing where to turn to find who they used to be, not knowing whether it would even be worth it?

“Then let's talk,” Hermann pleaded. “Let's figure things out together. I'm confused too, Newton, and we won't ever be able to leave the War behind if we don't sort out this confusion first. And that means we can't lock each other out. So let's talk.”

“But what do we say, Hermann? What could we possibly say to each other? We've never known how to actually talk.”

They crossed gaze, and the anger dropped as quickly as it had risen. They both knew what Newton was talking about. They both knew he was referencing the time when they did know how to communicate, the time of their written correspondance, of long and thought-out e-mails as well as short hurried ones, because they had needed to share things. They had needed for someone to understand.

Hermann tightened his grip on his cane. This was still a moment of his life he did not like to think about. The wound was still fresh, in a way. It re-opened with each of their arguments. It manifested again in the bitter taste of disappointment every time they started shouting, because they knew they could never be what the other had expected from them.

“We can find a way.”

The saddest thing, to Hermann, was that they hadn't tried until then. NEWT

The halls of the Shatterdome got emptier and emptier over time, but the lab was still the same. Every day Newton would come in and find Hermann already there, revising his theories again and again, fingers covered in chalk. It was an anchor. A proof that they could go on without leaving everything behind. Newt feared the blank page. He feared stepping into a new world he didn't know anything about anymore. And so he held on tight.

They had tried to follow Hermann's advice, tried to talk to each other more, about their respective memories and what they had seen in the drift. It had worked and it hadn't, both at the same time. Sharing things out of the blue still felt impossible, unnatural. They were too used to confrontations, too used to communicating through shouting matches for years and years. They were too used to keeping their deepest selves secret.

It was almost an instinctive reaction, in the face of the drift and all that it had revealed, to want to lock the other out, keep as much as possible in. Newt thought he was ready to dabble in philosophy, after such an experience, wondering if the essence of the self was not built on secrets, on what was never shared with the Other.

But when Newt felt lost, when he couldn't tell if what he was feeling was truly himself or not, when he needed someone to tell him who he was or walk him through his ideas, Hermann would be there. And Newt would be there for him in return, when pretending that they were completely separate beings became too hard.

Those conversations always felt like they were taking place out of time. They were little moments that happened in another reality, to different people. Small moments where their minds overlapped before being forced to finally break apart for good.

Two weeks after Pitfall, Newt finally thought his brain had stabilized slightly. It no longer felt like it was filled with goo, like every thought he formed was too slow and precise to ever lead anywhere. His work was finally going somewhere.

Hansen had refused to give him permission to loot Hannibal Chau's lab, but one day three new jars of perfectly conserved organs were waiting for him in a corner of his and Hermann's shared lab. There was even a whole lung, in almost pristine condition!

It was difficult to stay focused on one area of research only, but given their limited time, he had figured out that his research on the kaiju's DNA and how they were built was the most important. If their genetic codes were so similar, there had to be a way for him to find a logic in their difference. And if he managed to do that, he might manage to find a weakness, one that would apply to all kaiju. And that would mean they would be prepared if the Breach ever opened again.

When the Breach opened again.

The Precursors would not stop. They would not stop for the same reason that the PPDC hadn't stopped, even when world governments started abandonning them one by one. They would not stop because they were desperate. Their world was dying. Their world was dying, and Earth was ripe, was there, was almost perfect for them.

They would not stop. They would be back.

This certainty kept Newt awake at night, lost in a sea of conflicting feelings that even Hermann, shouldn't, couldn't know about.

There was a space missing inside his thoughts, and that space was the size of another world. He longed for it, and he was terrified of it. The promise of knowledge and of belonging crystallised in his mind in the shape of Otachi and its luminescent tongue. Something fascinating, awe-inspiring, and something that could kill him. Something that could kill not just Jaeger pilots. Not just random civilians. It could actually kill him, Newton Geiszler.

And this thing, this monster that his human fears took the shape of... It was scared of the precursors.

Newt shivered. From across the lab, Hermann threw him a look, probably wondering whether this was a memory they had to talk about. But Newt wasn't confused. Just scared shitless. So he shook his head.

Then, a week later, Hermann said he would be leaving.

Newt knew it had to happen, of course he did. Hermann had a wife to go back to. He had a family, and much of his work could be done easily from home. He didn't need as many tools as Newt. He had no reason to stay here. So when Hermann announced that Vanessa had found an apartment and that he would be moving back to Berlin in a few days, Newt just nodded.

“That's nice. I'm happy for you both.”

Hermann looked away for a second, as if gathering his thoughts or his courage. Then he reached inside of his pocket and handed Newt a piece of paper.

“You already know how to contact me. But... if you ever find yourself in Berlin...”

He trailed off, and Newt looked up at him. Hermann's face was blank, as if he was forcing his emotions not to betray him. Newt opened the piece of paper to find a postal adress scrawled inside.

This felt like an olive branch. This felt like an admission that there had never been any true war between them.

“Okay,” he said to Hermann, and put the piece of paper in his back pocket. The other man nodded, and crossed the lab again, going back to work.

Newt tried to focus on his microscope. He really did. But his thoughts kept going back to the adress on a piece of paper, and to what Hermann might have meant by it. Was Newt suppose to... drop by and visit? Have dinner with Hermann's wife and pretend he didn't know how she drank her coffee or what she sounded like when she orgasmed? Was he supposed to talk to them about the weather, about politics? Was he supposed to pretend that he and Hermann shared a normal relationship, that they were work friends, that they hadn't shared each other's memories, hadn't broken each other's hearts, didn't have so much history between them?

In truth, Newt knew what this address was for. It was in case he needed it. And he didn't want to need it. He was a grown man, a scientist, a genius. He would be fine on his own. He and Hermann had been forced together for seven years, but it was time for each of them to go their own way. This was how it had always been supposed to happen.

Four days later, Newt came into the lab and it was empty. He settled down to work, and got distracted enough that an hour passed.

And then he realised that Hermann wasn't there, and his brain immediately jumped to the most far-fetched conclusion. Something must have happened to him, he must have been kidnapped, he must have been-

And then Newt realised.

Oh. Right.

Today was the big day. He had the lab to himself now. He could do as he pleased, put his music on as loud as he wanted to.

Did he want to?

Newt felt himself be drawn to Hermann's side of the lab. His chalkboards had been erased, because of course Hermann would clean up before he left. Of course.

Newt picked up a piece of chalk and twirled it between his fingers. Calculations were running through his mind. Still - the piece of chalk only a few milimeters away from the board – he dropped it again.

They were moving on. This was good. This was the right thing.

Hermann had grown restless, distracted, over the past few days. He would write and re-write the same equation over and over, or get lost in memories. Newt had had to intervene when he had seen Hermann try to draw a graph with his left hand, even though he was right-handed.

Newt had told him to get his shit together, and of course it had evolved into a shouting match, but he was confident that they had both felt much better afterwards.

Hermann had needed to leave. In the same way that Newt still needed more time to make peace with the place, Hermann had needed less. And wasn't that a paradox?

Newt had been the one who had hated the military, who had delayed joining until it had been obvious that they were the organisation who would provide the most useful research facilities, and make the most of his work. Newt had been the one who had never been able to feel comfortable within the PPDC's rigid hierarchy, who had resented calling people by their position and done all he could to make his opinions clear about all of that. Hermann, on the other hand, had liked the sense of organisation, the idea of fitting within a broader mechanism. He liked the sense of certainty and order than came from it. Hermann had liked the feeling of security that came with hierarchy that worked with you, and Newt had snapped at him, telling him that that was only because he had never known how hard it was to have it work against you.

(But that wasn't entirely true, because Hermann was Lars Gottlieb's son, because he had been as much of a weird child as Newt, because he was a disabled man navigating a society never built with him in mind. Newt could realise now how stupid he had been to ignore all of that.)

Still. Hermann had fitted in easily. Newt had rebelled. Now Hermann was gone, and Newt was terrified to leave.

Newt stood up. He was thinking too much. Which should have been a relief, because it meant his brain felt like his own again, but was also more an annoyance than anything else right now. He turned towards the musical corner of the lab, a half-forgotten dust-covered place in which he had dumped his keyboard and guitar because there wasn't enough space in his room. Tendo had once brought a small amp, a mic, and its stand, half as a joke, and they had ended up organising a J-Tech/K-Science karaoke that Newt was sure held a high place in a lot of personal histories.

He powered up the laptop he kept there, an old thing that took ages to boot up, but which held all of his music collection.

They had used to have a system, when there were a dozen of them in the lab, where people would be able to choose what music played for half a day in turns. But somehow, the whole thing had been abandoned and had given place to silence once it had only been him and Hermann left. When he was feeling particularly restless, Newt would still use his headphones, but he hadn't played anything on speakers for months.

He put on an old playlist of his, and started singing along to the pop-punk song that came through. Under his breath at first, then louder, realising once again that he could. It felt like a bitter sort of freedom, but it was enough to keep him distracted, at least.

He had saved the world. He was a rockstar, he thought while setting up new samples for analysis. This was his thing, averting the apocalypse through science. And he was going to do it again, because nobody else seemed ready to, because nobody else seemed to take the threat of a Breach re-opening seriously. He would show them. When the Breach re-opened, he would be there and he would show them and-

Wait, no. He would stop it. He would definitely stop it.

Part of Newt wanted to lock himself into his room and scream at the mere idea of new kaiju coming through. Another part wanted them to come, to find him, to fill the giant hole left in his thoughts. Tapping into the kaiju hivemind had felt like flying. Like an adrenalin rush, like a drug. Like having his narrow mind torn apart only to expand in unimaginable ways and find that he belonged. And then the Breach had been closed and he had been told that this drug wasn't on the market anymore, that he would have to keep his feet on the ground from now on, sorry dude.

He looked at the cloned DNA in his hand and had to focus very hard on why it would be terribly stupid to try and replicate it. He put his music on louder.

An hours later, he was trying to cross-reference his findings with an old report from the xenobiology department in Anchorage when a loud cough right behind him made him jump from his chair. Newt turned around. He was certain he must look like a deer caught in headlights.

Hermann was standing right in front of him, wearing his trademark collared shirt and sweater combo and looking very unimpressed.

“I came to say goodbye.”

The words were like a cold shower. Newt quickly gestured for Hermann to stay still while he went and turned off the music. The lab was filled with silence once more. Newt turned back around.

Something that had felt wrong all morning was finally set right. Newt realised that he hadn't believed Hermann would leave without a goodbye, and that this was why it had felt so wrong not to find him there in the morning. Something that had been tense inside of Newt had finally snapped, and he was able to breathe easily once more.

Except, now that Hermann was here... this was the end. This was adieu. This meant no more shouting matches, no more steaming tea left on his desk in the middle of a rough night, no more familiar smell of chalk and cigarette and old clothes.

They were staring at each other, and Newt started moving from foot to foot.

“So, uh...”

“I...”

They had started speaking at the exact same moment, and Newt giggled childishly. He pointed at his head. “Drift Compatible'd.”

It brought a smile to Hermann's lips.

Newt himself didn't know why he found it so funny. Maybe it had to do with the triviality of the thing. The habits they had picked up from each other as a consequence of the drift had all felt scary, too big, too wrong. This was... silly. Inconsequential. Nice, in a way. Intimate. Knowing that their lives didn't have to revolve only around the huge and terrible things, like they had for so long, was comforting. They could have this. Maybe it would even be easy.

“Indeed,” Hermann nodded. “Keep in touch with me, Newton. We don't...” Hermann looked away slightly. “We don't have to go back to total silence.”

And Newt understood. Just like him, Hermann could hear the quiet in their thoughts.

“I have your e-mail.”

“You do.” Hermann looked around the lab. For the last time. “Thank you, Newt.”

And with that, he turned and started leaving.

Newt instinctively reached out, trying to stop him, to delay him. Grappling for a touch, for a handshake, for a hug. For something more than those three words left hanging like a door half-open and still somehow locked forever. But he drew back his hand.

“You have my e-mail too, asshole!” Newt shouted instead. “And say hi to your wife for me!”

Hermann didn't reply, but stopped in his tracks for half a second. And that was enough.

Once the door was closed, Newt started his music again and went back to work. And if he had to stop working at one point in the afternoon because he could remember a warm hand against his arm, full lips against his and a feminine voice whispering I love you over and over again as a body wrapped around him and made him feel whole, made him feel like his pieces fit, if Newt had to stop working for a little while because he could feel himself getting hard for a woman he didn't know, well... That was fine. That was the kind of thing that happened when you saved the world. Surely Mako had the same problem all the time, her and that giant blond puppy of hers.

VANESSA

She wasn't sure if she had been crying before she saw him or not. But the tears felt like relief rushing down her face, and when he wrapped his arms around her body, Hermann was crying too.

Vanessa pressed her head against his shoulders and breathed in, trying to find something familiar in the smell of sweat and dirt hanging around her husband's clothes. She took a step back after a while, rubbing against her eyes carefully so that her contacts wouldn't be dislodged, then looked at Hermann. His eyes were red from tears too, and tired from six hours of flight. But he smiled at her as they looked at each other, a smile private and sheepish that she had cherished since the first day she had earned it.

“I missed you,” she said, stating the obvious because sometimes you needed that, you needed to say the simple things to remember they were real. She felt her husband cling to her jacket, as if trying to convince himself that she was real. “I love you.”

“I missed you too, Vanessa.”

She smiled, an easy, happy smile. The kind of smile that came to your lips unconsciously when you exchanged a greeting with your crush. It was an exhilarating feeling, being in love and being together. She took Hermann's hand in one of hers and one of his suitcases in the other and started walking. They took a taxi back to their new place, because Vanessa didn't own a car.

Even seated, their joined hands was a point of contact that radiated warmth through her whole body.

They weren't usually this tactile, either of them, but she could feel that Hermann was holding on as tightly as her. Because this is what they'd been missing all these years, the certainty of another's body against one's own.

“I hope you'll like the new place. It's not fancy or anything. But there's an extra room, for an office or a nursery. The living-room is kind of small, but there's a nice view and...” She felt Hermann squeeze her hand. “Sorry. I'm babbling.”

“It's okay,” Hermann replied. He was looking at her like she was a wonder of the universe, a fountain at which he was drinking. All the useless things she wanted to say – she had a habit of babbling when she was nervous – stayed stuck inside of her throat. “I've missed listening to you talk. But you don't need to worry. I've lived in Shatterdome rooms for years now. As long as I have a window I'll be fine.”

It had been five months since they had last seen each other. Five months of hell, for her. Five months of waiting, of feeling useless, now with the added bonus of nausea caused by her pregnancy. But surely five months of hell for him too, five months of desperate work, of retreating inside himself without anyone around to get him out, five months of constant fear.

“Windows. I knew there was something I had forgotten,” she joked.

He rolled his eyes at her, fondly. “You're a terrible person.”

“I know, I do my best.” The cab stopped in front of an apartment block in East Berlin. Vanessa paid the fare, since Hermann only had Hong Kong dollars on him and they watched the car take off. They turned around, and walked to the door of the building. “I couldn't find anything on the ground floor,” Vanessa explained as she pulled out her keys and opened the front door. “But we're only on the second, and the lift is pretty quick. Here...” She walked inside and guided her husband to the lift, up to the second floor, and into their apartment. She let Hermann move past her then, gesturing for him to go inside and explore.

And he did, taking in the new environment with a small smile. Vanessa had only been in the apartment for a few days herself, so it was still quite bare. Unopened boxes were lying in a corner of the living-room, but at least they had everything actually necessary to live: a furnished kitchen, a couch and coffee table, a spatious shower complete with stool and handrails, and a bed to sleep in. A bed to sleep in together. Such a simple thing to be happy about.

They toured the apartment together before stopping in the living-room. Hermann stood a while in front of the east-facing bay-windows. It was this view that had made Vanessa buy the apartment. The way Hermann was looking at it, she felt like he was looking for something, although she could not fathom what.

From the way he was leaning on his cane and the slight tremor of his other hand, Vanessa knew that he was exhausted. And still he stood there, looking at the line of buildings and the small park they lead to, staring at the grey sky above them.

The silence lasted for minutes. Vanessa tried to give him time, to let him adjust. She focused on her breathing, ignoring her own exhaustion. Still, this stillness was scaring her.

Finally, without noticing how long he had stayed motionless, Hermann turned to her with a smile.

“Thank you. It's perfect.”

She smiled in response, although it wasn't as natural as she wanted. “Settle down, okay?” She said, pointing at the couch. “I'll make some tea. Brought it back from England.”

“You're amazing,” Hermann replied. He let himself half-fall onto the couch with a sigh of relief.

Vanessa walked to the kitchen and put the kettle to boil, taking out her box of Oolong tea. Then she swore, realising that their tea-pot was still in one of the boxes in the living-room. She hadn't needed it when she had only been making tea for herself, and had forgotten to take it out.

She stopped in her tracks at the threshold of the next room. Hermann was slowly massaging his left thigh, but that wasn't what made Vanessa pause.

She had forgotten what it was like to walk into a room and for Hermann to just be there. It felt like something important enough that she should take the time to appreciate it. She shook herself after a second. She really was becoming much too sentimental for her own taste.

“I forgot the tea-pot here somewhere,” she said, making Hermann look up. “No idea which box it's in, though.”

“I'll help,” Hermann offered.

A few minutes later, they had finally found the pot, and made a mess of the boxes by the same occasion. Vanessa made the tea and put two mugs down on the coffee table, sitting down next to her husband. They would deal with the mess later. They would deal with everything later. They had time.

In this private and comforting setting, she decided to dedicate that time to staring at Hermann. He hadn't changed, and at the same time she knew he had. She thought he was slightly thinner than he used to be, which could easily be explained by all the stress he'd had to work under. But that wasn't really what held her attention.

There was something tense in the way he held himself, something that made her think of a fight-or-flight response. Like he was ready to bolt out of the room at any moment. Or like he expected the need to fight and hold his grounds.

The only thing Vanessa wanted was to keep him here, with her. To keep him safe. Hermann had never been a soldier, and yet he had gone off to war for humanity, while all she did was stay behind and wait. It made her feel sick. She knew there was nothing she could have done anyway, but feeling useless still made her ashamed.

She looked at her husband again. She took in his white skin, pale from too much time spent inside, his cheekbones, high and sharp, the slight crook in his nose and the thin line of his mouth. Crossing gaze with him, she could see that Hermann was observing her in the same way, mapping the lines of her face with his eyes. She moved forward a little and opened her mouth slightly, waiting for him to close the distance.

Hermann did, and when their lips met, it felt soft and warm and like home. Hermann hadn't been able to brush his teeth since stepping on his plane in Hong Kong, but Vanessa didn't really care. Not when it had been so long since she'd had this kind of intimacy with anyone.

Hermann had tried to talk to her about it, years ago when he had joined the Jaeger Academy. He had told her that she didn't have to wait for him, that he would understand if she went to someone else in the meantime, that he trusted her. Vanessa had shushed him at first, but had agreed at his insistance. She wouldn't force herself to be martyred in the name of love, and if she found out that she wanted a more intimate relationship with someone else, she would talk about it with Hermann.

It had happened a few times that she had started getting close with people, had started pondering what-ifs, but in the end she had never gotten together with anyone else. It was a thing she knew about herself. Attraction, whether romantic or sexual, didn't happen often for her. When she had started falling for Hermann, it had taken her by surprise. She had adjusted the words she used to describe herself, going from aromantic to grey-romantic, then she had let herself discover those new feelings and the man she was developping them for.

It had been strange and exciting to feel herself be drawn to someone in such a way. It had also been confusing, frightening even. However, things had become much easier once she had realised that Hermann was nearly as confused and as scared as she was, despite being a few years older. It seemed insane, how young they had been, how quickly it had all happened. How quickly it had all disappeared, once the War had broken out.

Vanessa wasn't sure why she was having such bitter thoughts in this particular instant. She closed her eyes to ward them off, and lost herself to the feeling of warm lips against hers. She put a hand on Hermann's shoulder, finding an angle to deepen the kiss, and he nipped at her lower lip in response. She opened her mouth with a sigh.

She opened her eyes and smiled when they finally pulled away from each other. “The tea is getting cold.”

Hermann gave her another quick peck on the lips before handing her her mug and picking up his. Both of them warmed their hands on their cups and relaxed. It was a familiar ritual.

“It's a little girl,” Vanessa said, out of the blue. “Or at least that's what the doctor said. I had the ultrasound last week.” She put a hand on her bulging stomach. “You didn't ask.”

Her tone wasn't reproachful, exactly, but close to it. After all, her obvious pregnancy was the only thing anyone around her asked about these days. Which was fair. Not a lot of people had decided to bear babies in a time that was defined by War. Even far from the Pacific, the influx of refugees and the strain on world resources had made itself known. Twelve years had been a long time, even if some of them had been hopeful. Not a lot of people wanted to bring children into a world defined by violence.

That meant Vanessa was noticed, even more noticed than pregnant women generally were. And yet, Hermann hadn't asked anything. She had been flattered, in a sense, that Hermann saw only her, and not just the baby she was carrying. But she had been worried, too, that despite everything he'd said he didn't want to see the baby. That he regretted Vanessa's decision.

“I... I didn't know how to,” Hermann admitted. “It's... I'm only realising now that this is really happening. That you're going to have a child. Before, it was... It was happening far away. I couldn't see you. I didn't know if I would still be alive three weeks from now, even less so in four months.”

That last part reassured Vanessa a little. Hermann knew she was due in four months. That meant he had kept track of time.

“And now I'm here and you're...” He gestured awkwardly, looking for a word.

“Looking gorgeous even when my belly is protruding because of the tiny human being currently developing inside it?”

Hermann smiled. “I couldn't have said it better.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes.

“It's... strange.” Hermann continued. “I'm adjusting. But I'm not... I want this. You have to believe me when I say that I want this. That I want you, and I want this child, and I want whatever life ends up throwing at us.”

That was all Vanessa had needed to hear. She pressed another kiss against Hermann's lips, because she could, and because she was happy.

“I'm glad,” she whispered against his skin. She pulled away, then, regaining a slightly more serious expression. “I know it's a lot of news, and that things are going very quickly for you. And I know you haven't been very involved in this pregnancy so far.” Hermann nodded at that, both in bitterness and in apology. “So I know it's kind of selfish of me to pick a name but...” Vanessa trailed off, unsure, even though she had had the debate with herself for days now. “But I do have a name in mind. And obviously if you don't like it we can pick something else, I don't want to pressure you or anything.” She was babbling again, a sure sign of her nerves.

Hermann took one of her hands in his and squeezed slightly. She breathed in, breathed out. “I want to call her Victoria.”

Victorious one. It was supposed to be a reminder, something to guide both parents and child through the rest of their lives. A name that said we did it before, we can win again. She had thought about it a lot in the past few days, and the name felt right to her. It marked a new beginning, as well as reminding them of the past.

“Victoria.” Hermann said the name aloud, as if he was trying out the feeling of the syllables in his mouth. “It's a beautiful name.”

#Fic: Veni Vedi #Meeni writes fics #Pacific Rim #Newton Geiszler #Hermann Gottlieb #Vanessa Gottlieb

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perfectlyrose · 6 years

Text

the magic in our veins

Summary: With Jack going on a solo vacation, Rose convinces the Doctor to take her to visit Jackie in the hopes that Jackie can provide information on magic that the TARDIS library wouldn't have. This means, however, that Rose must tell her mum that the Doctor knows the secret they guard so closely.

(part of the Everyday Magic series )

Pairing: Nine/Rose

Word Count: 3473 // Rating: all ages

Note: Set sometime after candles burning low & kitchen witch, warning for blood mention

Note #2: Another installment less than a week after the last one?? It’s more likely than you think! And a glimmer of plot forming? Wonder of wonders! Shoutout to @lots-o-huggindoctor for the idea of them visiting Jackie!

AO3 // TSP

“I was thinking that once we drop Jack off for his vacation, we might go visit my mum,” Rose said, keeping her eyes on the mug of tea cradled between her palms.

“Oh?”

She looked up and had to smile at the look on the Doctor’s face. He was trying to hide his distaste for the idea and managing poorly. “Yeah, it’s been awhile since I’ve been to see her and I thought she might be able to help with the research on magic.”

“How?”

“Well, she has connections to the magical community that I don’t,” Rose said. “Obviously we can get more written information from the TARDIS library and databases, but my mum might have some of things only passed down through stories and not written down. At the very least, she might be able to point us towards someone who knows those stories.”

“There is probably a robust oral tradition for magic, especially on Earth,” the Doctor mused. He shot an accusatory look at Rose. “I know you’re bribing me with research opportunities.”

“Is it working?” She grinned, tucking her tongue between her teeth.

“Yes. But I’m not having tea with Jackie.”

“Oh come on, she’d make us shepard's pie and that’s her best dish. It’s one meal, Doctor. If I convince her not to invite Mickey, you can spend the whole time asking her about magic,” she wheedled.

He raised an eyebrow. “Does she know that I know about your magic?”

Rose froze. “No. I haven’t told her.”

The Doctor leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Is she going to slap me again because I know?”

“Probably not.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“She won’t slap you for this. I’m going to get one hell of a lecture, though,” Rose said, making a face. “We also might want to skip telling her about the fact that I use magic to break out of prison cells on a semi-regular basis.”

“Still want to go see her?” The Doctor asked. His smile was bordering on smug now.

“Gonna have to tell her eventually. Might as well be now,” Rose said.

“Tell her what? Did I miss something juicy?” Jack plopped down in one of the unoccupied chairs at the kitchen table, looking disheveled.

“Not particularly. I’m convincing the Doctor to take me to see my mum while you’re on vacation,” Rose explained.

“Please tell me that you’re telling her that you and the Doc are shacking up finally.”

“Jack!”

“Knew it was too much to hope for,” he said with a wink.

Rose stole a glance at the Doctor who just rolled his eyes after a pointed look at Jack.

“You about ready to be dropped off, Harkness?” The Doctor asked.

“Yes sir. Came to get a cup of coffee and then will be 100 percent ready to go. Already dropped my bag off in the console room.” He directed his most irreverent grin at the Time Lord. “You sure you don’t want to join me? We could have a lot of fun.”

“Oi! Am I not invited?” Rose protested.

“If I thought the Doctor would let you within ten light years of this particular pleasure planet, I would definitely invite you Rosie,” Jack assured her.

She raised an eyebrow. “Did I miss the memo that the Doctor gets to decide what I do?”

The Doctor winced at her acid tone. “Neither of us will be going on vacation with you, Jack,” he quickly cut in. “We’re visiting Jackie.”

“Never thought I’d see the day you’d willingly choose a visit to my mum’s over anything,” Rose said with a laugh.

Jack caught Rose’s eye and shielded his mouth from the Doctor with his hands. “Domestic,” he mouthed.

Rose laughed and the Doctor started muttering under his breath. He pushed his chair back and stood. “Going to go set the coordinates,” he said before walking out of the room.

Jack chuckled and then stood to start the coffee. “One of the most powerful beings in the universe and you’ve got him wrapped around your finger.”

Rose sighed. “It’s not like that, Jack.”

“It is but the fact that you’d never think about it like that is why it works,” he said. “Go get ready to see Jackie. I won’t leave without saying bye.”

Rose gave him a smile and gratefully took the out to leave the galley.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Once they’d dropped Jack off, the Doctor sent them back into the Vortex and turned to face Rose. “Ready to face Jackie?”

“Ready as I can be,” she said. “Let me ring her and see if we can land in the flat. It’ll be easier for us to talk to her about magic if Mickey doesn’t cotton on to us being there.”

He motioned for her to go on and she quickly pulled out her mobile and hit the right speeddial.

“Rose! Was wondering when I’d hear from you, darling. When are you coming ‘round next?”

“Now, if it’s alright,” Rose said with a smile. “Is it alright if we land in the flat?”

“Tell himself not to land in front of the telly this time,” Jackie instructed. “Will the two of you stay for tea? Should I ask Mickey to come round?”

“Yes, we’ll be staying for tea but I don’t want to see Mickey this time, Mum. Just wanted to pop round to see you.”

Rose could hear the smile in her mum’s voice as she agreed. “Give me an hour to pop down to the shops. I want to make shepherd's pie and I need a few things.”

“Told you,” Rose mouthed at the Doctor who wasn’t even pretending not to eavesdrop.

“See you in an hour,” Rose said. She rung off and then looked at the Doctor. “Got all that?”

“One hour from when she received your call. Got it.”

He turned back to the console and input the correct coordinates, triple checking them to make sure they’d land at the right time and in the right flat. The Doctor threw the lever and grinned as the TARDIS took flight, singing her way through the universe.

They landed with a thump that almost threw them both to the grating. Recovering quickly, Rose made for the doors. Jackie was audible the moment she opened them.

“What did I tell you about landing in front of the telly? You’re lucky I already set my show to record or you’d be moving that box of yours.”

“Hello to you too, Jackie,” the Doctor said, sarcastic smile fully in place.

“Hi Mum,” Rose said, moving to give Jackie a hug and a kiss.

“Oh, it’s good to see you,” Jackie said, hugging Rose tightly. “Himself treating you alright?”

“Standing right here,” the Doctor said.

“Not talking to you,” Jackie shot back.

Rose rolled her eyes at their bickering. “I’m managing, Mum. Need any help in the kitchen?”

“Veggies still need to be chopped.”

“On it,” Rose said, heading towards the kitchen.

Jackie gave the Doctor an appraising look and then nodded decisively. “Thanks for bringing her home for a visit.”

“Of course.”

“You’re staying for my shepherd’s pie this time.” It wasn’t a question.

“Seem to be. Hopefully Rose being in the kitchen doesn’t result in anything burning.”

Jackie raised an eyebrow. “She can usually handle the veg alright, but I’m blaming anything that goes wrong on her being here. Love her dearly but she cannot cook.”

“I’m aware,” he said dryly.

“You know I can still hear you, right?” Rose called from the kitchen. “Bad idea to insult the one holding a sharp knife.”

The Doctor looked properly chastened but Jackie just laughed. “We said nothing but the truth, love.”

Rose harrumphed loudly and turned her attention back to the cutting board. She had to find a way to tell her mum that the Doctor knew their secret and then hope that she would be willing to talk to them both about it.

She was pondering how to bring it up when the knife slipped and cut into her finger. “Shit,” she hissed.

“Rose?” Jackie was next to her immediately, the Doctor barely a step behind.

“That’s what I get for not paying proper attention, I guess,” Rose joked weakly, holding onto her bleeding finger.

“Let me see,” Jackie demanded. She sucked in a breath as she got a look at the deep cut. She looked between the injury and Rose and then cast a glance towards the Doctor. “Grab the dish towel and put some pressure on it,” she said finally.

Rose would have preferred an opening that didn’t involve almost slicing her fingertip off but she would take what she got.

“Mum, he knows already,” she said softly. “Can you fix it?”

Jackie gave her a piercing look. “We’re going to have a talk about this.”

“I know.”

She sighed. “Come on over to the table.” Jackie looked up at the Doctor. “Make yourself useful and bring over a wet flannel so we can get some of the blood off.”

Jackie took the cloth as soon as he brought it over and cleaned Rose’s finger as best she could since it was still bleeding. “Cut yourself good,” she said.

“I’m aware,” Rose said. She bit down on her bottom lip as Jackie probed at the wound.

The Doctor squeezed her shoulder. She smiled up at him gratefully. “Finally get to see some healing magic,” she said.

“Wish it didn’t involve you getting hurt,” he said, voice soft.

“You and me both,” she answered.

“Quiet,” Jackie ordered. Both of their mouths snapped shut.

She took a deep breath and then traced patterns in the air over Rose’s wound while whispering a few words Rose had heard a hundred times without ever understanding them.

The cut knitted itself back together and Rose swore quietly. The healing often hurt as much as the actual injury.

“Done,” Jackie said, wrapping the wet flannel back around Rose’s hand. “Go wash up while I finish putting things together.”

As she made her way towards the loo, she heard her mum assign the Doctor to finish chopping the onion she’d left undone.

A tense silence existed in the flat until Jackie slid the casserole dish in the oven. Once it was in she faced the both of them. “You’ve got half an hour to explain why someone outside the family and the community knows our secret.”

“Can we go sit down?” Rose suggested.

They sat in the living room and Rose took a deep breath before starting to talk. “He knows because I had to use a spell in front of him to get us out of a bad situation. It was a bit of a complex one and I was glowing. I couldn’t not tell him what was going on.”

“What about that other bloke? Jack. Does he know?”

Rose shook her head. “Only the Doctor. I’m not going around telling the universe about magic, Mum, though it’s almost everywhere if you look. I just had to tell the Doctor.”

“And how do you feel about it?” Jackie asked, shifting her focus to the Doctor.

“I think it’s fantastic,” he said honestly. “I’m honored to share in the secret and will guard it with my life. It’s a whole new facet of the universe I didn’t know about and I’m trying to learn as much as I can about it.”

“Don’t you dare treat my little girl like some science experiment,” she warned.

“No!” he exclaimed quickly.

“It’s not like that, Mum,” Rose cut in. “He’s just been doing some research in the TARDIS library about magic and its origins and history, trying to understand. Asks me questions when they’re relevant but you know my magic’s always been a bit… different, so I’m not always the most reliable source.”

“That’s an understatement,” Jackie muttered.

“Different?” The Doctor asked.

“Oh yes. Rose has the worst time with spells that have a strictly set form. Anything she can tweak, she can do fine, but when it comes to something like healing or kitchen spells, and she’s hopeless,” Jackie explained, warming to the topic like Rose had hoped she would. She didn’t get to talk magic with anyone other than Rose very often. Now that she was over the shock of Rose letting the Doctor in on the secret, Rose rather thought this would go swimmingly.

“Trouble with authority?” The Doctor asked, a small smile forming as he glanced at Rose. “Never would’ve guessed.”

Rose elbowed him in the side. “Wanker. And you’re one to talk!”

“No arguments here,” he said.

“Anything else that’s different about Rose’s magic compared to yours?” He asked Jackie.

“Well, I’m sure she’s told you that the glowing isn’t normal. We don’t know where that came from.”

“Yes.”

“Um, she’s always had a talent for modifying and creating new spells,” Jackie mused.

“I thought everyone did that,” Rose said, brows drawing together in confusion.

“No, love. It’s actually quite rare to see new spells, especially at the frequency you came up with them. There’s a reason people treasure their grimoires so highly; they don’t want to lose the spells their family has collected and be unable to use their magic.”

“You never told me that.”

“I didn’t want to make you self-conscious about dreaming up new spells. Didn’t you ever wonder why your entries in the grimoire were some of the only modern ones that weren’t from other families?” Jackie asked.

“I never thought about it, really. I knew I didn’t use established forms as much as you do but that’s it.”

Jackie gave the Doctor amused look. “She forgets that not everyone can set the kettle boiling with a flick of their hand instead of a proper spell.”

The Doctor leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “So, it’s like her magic is less restrained than other peoples? Bubbling just under the surface instead of having to be summoned from deeper within?”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Jackie said, bemused.

“Now I feel like a science experiment,” Rose muttered. “Can I look at the grimoire, Mum? It’s been ages since I had a peek and I have a couple spells I could add to it. Some of mine and a few that I picked up traveling.”

“After dinner.”

As if on cue, the timer went off, signalling that the shepherd’s pie was ready.

Dinner was the most amicable one Rose had ever witnessed between the Doctor and Jackie. He’d gotten her talking about the stories of magic in her family and what she knew of other families’ magic. Jackie, a natural storyteller and keen gossip, was in her element and that kept the bickering to a minimum.

After helping wash up, Rose stole into Jackie’s bedroom to fetch the grimoire. She said the spell that unlocked the concealment charm on it and took it back to the sitting room.

“Would you do the restoration charm on it again, love?” Jackie asked. “It never works as well for me and it needs it.”

Rose gave the old leatherbound book a critical look. Closing her eyes and pressing her palms to it, she whispered the charm and sent energy rushing into the grimoire. When she opened her eyes, the leather was gleaming and the pages that had started to look tattered were neat once more.

Jackie raised her eyebrows. “You’ve gotten more powerful. That was the strongest restoration charm I’ve ever seen and you don’t even look tired.”

Rose looked between the book and her mum. “I guess I have. I’ve been using my magic a lot so maybe that has something to do with it.”

Jackie gave her a strange smile. “I don’t have the sight like your Nana Prentice but I’d wager that you’ve not reached your potential yet.”

Rose shook her head and looked back down at the grimoire, carefully flipping through the pages that held centuries of magical knowledge from her foremothers.

“That’s incredible,” the Doctor breathed, looking over Rose’s shoulder at a spell meant to help raise a barn.

“Never had the occasion to use this one,” she said. “Not many barns in London. Though it looks more complicated than it needs to be.”

“Maybe it needs to be this complicated for everyone else,” he said thoughtfully. “Seems your magic doesn’t need the tightly constrained channels that these spells create for other people.”

“It’s weird, that’s for sure,” Rose said. “I never really realized that my magic was quite so different. I can do all the same things, just slightly different in the execution. I thought everyone varied a little.”

She shifted to look up at the Doctor. “Any chance you would be willing to grab the journal I left on the jumpseat before coming out here? It’s my makeshift grimoire that I’ve been recording new spells in.”

He nodded and slipped into the TARDIS.

“Anything else you want to tell me?” Jackie asked with a pointed look.

Rose jumped, having almost forgotten she was in the room. “No.”

“So you’re not in love with that alien of yours?”

“What is with everyone today?” Rose muttered. “I’m not discussing this when he’s going to be back any second,” she said.

“That’s not a no.”

“Not a yes, either,” Rose pointed out.

The Doctor walked back out, small leather journal in his hands. He gave it to Rose and settled down next to her on the sofa.

“Can you tell me more about healing spells?” He asked Jackie. “I’ve not found much on them.”

Rose smiled down at her books as he listened to her mum start yammering on about healing burns and how it was a different process than a cut or puncture. This whole scene was thoroughly domestic, though likely a different brand of domestic than Jack would have predicted. Her brand of domestic though.

Once she was finished copying new spells from her travel book to the family grimoire and recording a few old ones to have with her in the TARDIS, Rose announced that it was time to go. She hugged her mum and thanked her for dinner and the healing.

The Doctor suffered through a hug of his own and then slipped into the TARDIS to let the two Tyler women finish their goodbyes.

“You’ve got a good one there, Rose. Don’t ever tell him I said it though.”

Rose couldn’t suppress her smile. “He wouldn’t believe me.”

“Even your dad didn’t take the news of my magic that well, and he was a roll with the punches kind of bloke. Your Doctor has embraced the whole thing and that’s rare.”

“I know. I was so scared of how he was going to react but he’s been wonderful,” Rose admitted.

“You sure there’s nothing going on between the two of you?” Jackie asked. “I don’t think I’d disapprove too much. Only enough to keep him on his toes.”

“We’re not like that, Mum. We’re not.”

Not yet, Jackie thought. She saw the way the Doctor watched her daughter and the way Rose looked at him. There was something there, even if they hadn’t acted on it yet. She kept her mouth shut though. This was something they would have to figure out on their own.

“If you say so,” she said. “Now, off you go. Don’t make me wait too long for another visit. You have a blooming time machine, you can manage more than a monthly visit.”

“I’ll try,” Rose said with a smile. “Bye Mum. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Jackie said, squeezing her daughter tight. “Be safe.”

“You too.”

Rose walked back into the TARDIS and nodded at the Doctor to let him know they were good to leave. He threw the lever and sent them back into the Vortex.

“That went better than it could have,” he said, leaning back against the console as he watched Rose.

“Almost slicing my finger off, notwithstanding,” she said dryly. “But yeah, that could’ve gone much worse. I think my mum might actually like you now.”

The look of horror on the Doctor’s face was priceless. “You take that back.”

She walked up to him and patted him on the cheek. “I’m sure the two of you will be back to bickering on our next visit.”

Rose yawned. “I’m knackered. Think I’ll head to bed. Somewhere pretty tomorrow? Jack’s on a vacation so we might as well have one too.”

“Your wish is my command,” he said, corners of his mouth quirking up into a smile.

She smiled back and headed down the corridor towards her room, mind full of her mum’s revelations about her magic and the comments both she and Jack had made about her and the Doctor.

Between odd magic and feelings she couldn’t name yet, Rose certainly had a lot to think about. Sleep might have to wait.

#ficandchips #nine x rose #doctorroseprompts #everyday magic verse #omg this is so much longer than anything in this verse #it's def the longest thing i've written in one night in a LONG time #but the plot is finally starting to come forward (slowly)#plus this is fic number 200 over on ao3 so it needed to be something substantial lol #enjoy!#i wrote this

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imnotinclinedtomaturity · 6 years

Text

Love Yourself (Chapter 1)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. words: 2.3k chapter: 1/? rating: t genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn

a/n: shoutout to @auroraphilealis for helping me edit and inspiring me to finally write this fic i’ve had in my head for a year<3 [[ao3]]

“Triple espresso, one sugar. To go.”

“Sure that will be – oh. You’re Dan Howell.”

Dan’s head snapped up to meet the barista’s eyes. His unfamiliar, gorgeous eyes. “And you’re new.”

“Er, yeah. How’d you know that though?”

“I come here almost daily. I live nearby, plus it’s the only place slow enough that I rarely get recognized.” Please don’t be a crazy fan.

“Seems like the kind of thing my coworkers could have warned me about.”

Dan cocked an eyebrow. “Warned? That bad of a surprise, huh?”

The barista’s eyes grew wide. “No! No, that’s not what I meant. I just mean it would have been nice to have a heads up so I wasn’t so surprised. It’s not like I don’t like your music or anything – I actually really enjoyed the new single you released last week and–”

“Relax,” Dan’s eyes flickered down to the cute new worker’s name tag, “Phil, I’m just kidding.”

“Oh. Good. Um…” Phil seemed to remember he was at work and had a job to do. “That will be three pound fifty.”

Dan dug his wallet out of his pocket and embarrassedly remembered he was wearing old joggers and a hoodie. What a great outfit to meet a cute guy in.

Dan shuffled down the counter, trailing Phil as he started making his coffee. The sudden appearance of a new (attractive) employee woke him up better than any triple espresso ever could.

“So, Phil, what brings you to this hole-in-the-wall coffee shop?”

Phil’s head shot up, as if he was surprised that Dan was continuing to talk with him. “Oh, you know, the usual. I just moved to London and needed a job to help pay the rent.”

“Welcome to London. Where did you move from?”

“Thanks! I just got here from Manchester last week.” Phil slid Dan’s coffee across the counter, a few drops splashing over the edge. However, instead of Dan grabbing his coffee and leaving, he leaned forward, rested his arms on the counter, and took a long sip of his coffee. He knew he should be going — he had a plenty long to do list today — but he couldn’t resist learning a bit more about Phil.

It’s just because he’s new and I come here every day. It’d be weird not to chat.

Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. All he knew about the girl who was normally working during the weekday mornings — Emma? Emily? — was that she was Irish, and that was based solely off her accent. The guy who worked on the weekends — Jake, maybe? — was incapable of putting his phone down for more than thirty seconds and smoked like a chimney.

But Phil’s new. It’d be rude not to be friendly.

“How are you liking London so far?”

“It seems like a cool city, from what I’ve seen of it. Between unpacking and working, I haven’t really had a lot of time to explore yet.”

“There’s definitely plenty to explore. What kind of stuff are you into?”

“Um, I’m a bit of a nerd, to be honest.”

Dan chuckled and wondered just how much ‘a bit’ was. If Phil was anything like him, ‘a bit’ was code for ‘completely and utterly’. “I feel you there. Have you been to the Sherlock museum?”

Phil’s eyes lit up. “No! I want to so badly though. I’ve heard it’s amazing.”

“It totally is. I swear I think I had to be dragged away the first time I went. They were literally closing when I finally left.”

Phil leaned forward, resting his arms on the counter. “I’ll definitely have to check it out. My friend promised to go on the Doctor Who tour with me on my next day off, so it will have to be after that though.”

“I’ve been meaning to go on that! No one in my life likes it enough to go on a two and a half hour tour with me, though, and I hate doing stuff like that alone.”

Phil nodded along like he perfectly understood what Dan was complaining about. “I know what you mean, there were so many nerdy things I wanted to do when I was living in Manchester but none of my friends there were interested in going with me.”

“That sucks. It’s good that you’ve got someone here who’ll go with you.” Dan took a sip of his coffee, taking the opportunity to study Phil’s features a bit more closely over the brim of his cup. His eyes were a striking combination of blue, green, and yellow and his jet black hair was carefully arranged in a short, borderline-outdated, emo fringe that Dan would have done anything to replicate just last year. One the whole, Cute Coffee Boy looked much more put together than Dan did. To be fair, he probably didn’t roll out of bed twenty minutes ago. “Okay, so, important question. Who’s your favorite Doctor?”

Phil looked contemplative for a moment. “Well, obviously David Tennant was great. He was both cute and played a great character. But I also kind of have a soft spot for Christopher Eccleston? He was the first person I ever saw playing the Doctor and who got me into the show, so he’ll always have a place in my heart.”

“I feel that way about David Tennant! I didn’t give in and start watching until he started — obviously I went back and caught up after watching like two episodes. Are you all caught up? I’ve been dying to talk about —”

Dan was interrupted by his phone buzzing.

Both he and Phil glanced down at his phone, which laying face up on the counter. “Louise <3” was on the caller ID. Dan shot Phil an apologetic smile and held up a finger as he answered, trying to express his annoyance at being interrupted.

“Hi Lou.”

“Daniel James Howell, I’ve been in your apartment for 20 minutes where are you?” Dan’s face fell in shame.

Oh shit. Louise. THAT’S what I was supposed to be doing.

“Er, I’m downstairs. At the coffee shop.”

“Of course you are. Get your butt up here. And bring me a coffee since I had to wait on your bum.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be there in 10.” Dan turned to Phil. “Looks like I need a venti iced soy latte with two and a half pumps of vanilla, double whip cream, and cocoa powder on top.”

Phil raised his eyebrow. “Complicated drink.”

“Complicated drink, complicated girl. I’ll take a few shots of baileys in my coffee if you’ve got any back there. I have a feeling I’m about to get yelled at for being late.”

“Ha. Ha. So you’ve got to go meet your… girlfriend?”

Dan blushed. “NO! God no! I mean – that came out harsh. Louise and I would be a train wreck. She’s my best friend. And my manager.”

Dan averted his eyes, staring into his coffee rather than at Cute Coffee Boy. The silence that fell in the coffee shop while Phil made Louise’s drink felt awkward to Dan and he really, really hoped Phil didn’t feel it too.

Unable to come up with anything to say, now that their conversation had been interrupted by Louise, Dan fiddled on his phone, liking a few tweets here and there. Both too soon and not soon enough, Phil passed him Louise’s and suddenly he had no legitimate reason for loitering. Phil handed him his receipt with a chipper “have a nice day!” and Dan awkwardly dropped his change in the tip char.

Despite having his slowly cooling coffee and Louise’s slowly melting drink, Dan was tempted to stay, to keep talking to this interesting and adorable new barista, but he knew that he couldn’t. He knew Louise would be furious if he wasn’t back in his apartment in the next five minutes, and even more so, he knew talking to a cute boy wasn’t something he was allowed to do at this moment in time.

So rather than staying and talking and just melting in the presence of this beautiful human, Dan grabbed Louise’s fancy ass drink and his own dark and bitter espresso and turned to leave. But before he could even turn around, the words just fell out of his mouth.

“I’ll see you again soon? Raincheck on that Doctor Whol conversation?”

Phil smiled and raised one hand in a stilted wave of sorts. “I’ll be here!”

Dan couldn’t tell if Phil’s response was customer service friendly, or trying to keep my fanboy in check friendly, or I actually want to see you again friendly.

Unfortunately, it seemed, Dan cared.

Dan trudged back into his lobby, nodding hello at the doorman, Mark. Trying not to dump out his drinks, he stuck his key into the elevator and pressed 7, nearly spilling his drinks anyway when the elevator started opening.

When the elevator doors opened to his apartment, Dan was immediately bombarded by Louise, who was apparently waiting in the entryway.

“Dan! I know I told you we were meeting to go over some of this publicity stuff today, where did you go?”

In response, Dan shoved her too sweet coffee into her hands, kicked his worn converse off, and walked passed her into the living room.

Louise followed him into the room, sitting in the armchair across from him. “You’re being weird, what happened?”

Dan sighed, figuring there was no use keeping anything from Louise.

“Well, you know Beans and Grind?”

Louise held up her cup, which clearly had the coffee shop’s name stamped on it. “No, no dear, never heard of it.”

“Shut up, Lou.” He took a sip of his drink, slightly stalling in hopes that Louise would bring up whatever business matters she wanted to cover.

She didn’t. She patiently drank her coffee and stared at Dan over the brim of her cup, waiting for him to continue.

“Ugh, fine Louise. There’s this new barista.”

To her credit, Louise was first and foremost always an amazing friend; she never told Dan off too severely for being reckless or stupid or making poor decisions. So rather than pointing out the millions of reasons why this discussion could lead somewhere bad, she leaned in conspiratorially.

“Tell me everything. Girl? Boy? Non-binary? I want all of the details.”

“His names Phil.” Dan paused, waiting for Louise to say something. What, he wasn’t sure, but he was positive she’d have something to say on the matter. When twenty seconds went by and Louise was still silently staring at him, waiting for more, Dan finally continued.

“He’s new, he just moved to London, he was surprisingly not fan-like once he got passed the initial ‘there’s a famous singer in my coffee shop’, and is apparently a massive nerd. I didn’t get the chance to learn too much else about him though, because somebody called demanding my presence.”

“Well, if I’d known you were making the acquaintance of a cute, new boy, maybe I wouldn’t have.”

“It was just friendly, Louise.” But even as the words came out of his mouth, Dan knew he didn’t believe them.

Fuck.

Morning coffee and gossip with Louise eventually turned into productive work time with Louise, which after a few hours turned into wine and more gossip with Louise. It was nearing 9 o’clock when the elevator let out a loud ding, indicating that someone had entered the apartment. Given Dan’s allowed visitors list, it could really only be one person.

High heels click clacked on the hardwood floor but the footsteps passed the lounge and continued further down the hallway.

“Really, Dan, this is still happening?” Dan threw a slightly startled, slightly admonishing look in Louise’s direction.

A shrill voice called loudly from the kitchen. “Ugh, Danny! I had such a bad day at work and of course you didn’t come take me out for lunch like I texted you to. Did you have your phone on, like, do not disturb or something?”

Rather than responding to the accusation, Dan turned and whispered to Louise. “Quiet or she’ll hear. Be nice, I really don’t want to fight tonight.”

The voice from the kitchen continued whining. “The girl at work was being, like, so annoying. She doesn’t understand that it’s, like, literally her job to do my errands and stuff. I mean, like—”

Louise continued talking, slightly drowning out the high-pitched complaining from the other room. “Right, unlike every single other night you’ve seen each other this month.”

“— and, like, the woman doing my nails didn’t even believe that I knew you. As if she hadn’t seen us together in the media or anything. I actually had to, like, show her my lockscreen to make her believe. When she finally got the fucking picture, she was much nicer and gave me a free—”

Dan and Louise had both mostly tuned out the diatribe against the woman from work, the manicurist, and whoever else was being complained about.

“Louise.” Dan sent her a pleading look, silently begging her to be nice, don’t provoke her, don’t lecture me.

“Fine, I’ll be polite. That still doesn’t mean I approve of you continuing this…whatever thisis.” Louise loosely gestured to the hallway toward the voice in the other room, which was still rambling at an ear-splitting pitch.

Somewhat resigned, Dan shrugged his shoulders. “Good enough.”

Just as the words left Dan’s mouth, the visitor waltzed into the living room, preceded only slightly by the tell-tale click clack of stilettos. She was wearing a tight red dress with a plunging neckline and her nails were painted to match perfectly. Her hair was styled in big, loose curls that Dan was sure probably took some hair stylist ages to achieve — and probably left a hefty charge on his account, too. The woman was sipping a bottle of Perrier she’d already taken from Dan’s fridge, leaving a thick stain of dark red lipstick around the mouth of the bottle. A bit belatedly, Dan jumped off the couch and crossed the room to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek and wrap his arm loosely around her waist.

“Hi, Isabella, I didn’t realize we had plans tonight.”

[[next chapter]]

#slow burn #barista!phil #singer!dan #phan #phanfiction #phanfic #au #phan au #iminclinedtowriting #reposted from iminclinedtowriting #rip my decision to split up my blogs

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