#best time for me would be surgery on wednesday and then just me fucking off for the rest

[baekuras]

just checked how long you’re usually on sick leave after having your wisdom tooth removed and apparently it can be 3 to 7 days

i am praying for 7days because it would be so fucking funny to me if our regio-chef just went “just take painkillers” and i just am gone for 2 whole weeks in response to that-via doctors order

[intosnarkness]

So my cat died today.

(tw:pet illness, death)

idk I might try and write the whole story later, but 15 years is a lot to try and boil down. (NB, I got him when he was 2, which you might have figured out because he was 17.)

But long story short, in February of 22 I was in Florida setting up an expo for work when the vet called me. Nat had taken the boys for a dental cleaning, and Peri lost like, a pound in a few weeks.

I was 900 miles away and could do nothing as they did scans and blood tests and I hid behind a shipping crate and cried.

They found a mass in his stomach and he's been on steroids since. We didn't know what it was, because I didn't want to do the exploratory on a cat his age. The vet agreed. I thought at the time that I had 3 months left. I got 18.

Recently Pman has had less appetite. This came to a head on Wednesday when I got home from work to feed the cats and he didn't come when I opened the can. He was also leaving more and more food uneaten.

I called the vet yesterday but it didn't feel emergent so when i got voicemail I gave up. Called again around 11 this morning and they asked me to bring him in ASAP. I had a Feeling then that today was going to end with a cremation.

Nat was headed home early from work because they're doing construction on his building and he was Done so I called and asked him to take Peri in. He agreed.

When he got to the house, Peri had found a bobbin for embroidery floss at some point between when I left at 7:45am and when he got home at 11:45am and eaten the thread off of it.

Nat called me and I just.. left. I just got up and left work and called the people I needed to call from the car to tell them I had a pet emergency and was leaving for the day. Nat and I met at the vet.

The issues came down to this:

When a cat eats string, your concern is it being in the intestine. If you pull on the string you can tear the intestine with the pressure. If you don't know how long it's been, you need to scope the cat or do exploratory surgery.

Our vet did not have anyone to scope the cat. They called every other vet in town, apparently. Time ticked by. They found one about 40 minutes away.

At this point it was close to 1:30. In the best scenario, it had been at least 2 hours since the thread entered his system. It would be another hour before we could get the scope in him. I kept saying to Nat, as we sat and waited, that there was no world where it wasn't in the intestine by the time we got him there. This is when I started to really fucking lose it.

If the string was in the intestine, they were going to have to do exploratory abdominal surgery on a 17-year-old cat to get it out. I remember what his recovery was like when he was 3 and did this. I was not sure it was fair to do that to a cat as old as him. I was pretty sure I had murdered my best friend with embroidery floss, which is going to be funny in retrospect but right now it isn't.

I know Peri has eaten string before. I remember the night he did it in the Laurel apartment like it was yesterday. I was usually vigilant about not leaving shit around for him to eat. The number of times I nagged Nat about spools of thread, or shoelaces, or twist ties. I looked at that bobbin yesterday and thought "I should put that away before Peri gets at it." I did not put it away. I was starting to convince myself that I killed my cat. That this whole thing was my fault. Poor Nat sitting next to me in this vet room. He is not an affectionate person. He does not touch. I doubt we have ever hugged. Here we are, and I'm holding my cat and crying. He mustered up all his courage and touched my shoulder. We stan one emotionally unavailable roommate.

As it turned out, it didn't matter. The x-ray revealed that the mass in his stomach had moved to his chest. His lungs were scalloped around the edges and there was fluid around his heart.

Nat and I both cried and killed an entire box of tissues. Peri let me hold him and he even gave us some moops. The vet told me to just keep talking. And the only thing I remember saying was that he had been such a good mommy to those ferals we fostered because he did such a good job of raising me, first.

So best boy, lover of Popsicle sticks, Wrong Tail haver, spottiest cat and cattiest spot, Peri Pants McGee, the Periman, Pman, Mr. Mooperman, and any other name I called him over the last 15 years was the best cat that most of you never got to meet.

His favorite thing in the world was when I put a blanket over my legs and then he laid on the blanket. He liked to lick my toes and ankles, which was the worst. He was a very good reason to stay alive on certain days when that didn't seem to be a priority. He was my best friend, and I love him.

[jodilin65]

Unbelievable! In less than a week, I will be seeing the ENT I wanted to see! Not only did it turn out we didn't need a referral for him, but he can see me on Wednesday. This will take a ton of stress off me. He's also going to take care of my ear at the same time. This is perfect timing. Amazing how things are already improving now that there's no longer a 4 in the year. I’m hoping he'll figure out something that will get me out of needing a CPAP, but I wouldn't go that far regardless of what year it is. I'm still a fatty with the wrong throat structure.

Another reason it’s a good thing that we're seeing him first is that once we know exactly what's going on, it will give us a better idea of what type of mask is best for me. I think whatever is going on with my nose is why I couldn't use the nasal pillow, but that may otherwise be suitable for me if we can fix whatever's going on with my nose. A nasal pillow is a lot more minimal than a full-face mask and therefore would be easier to get used to. Plus, I'm still a nose breather in my sleep, and they don't leak as easily as full-face masks. I just hope it doesn't require surgery to fix the problem! The most we could need to pay is two grand. But that's still a lot of money for a couple of poor retirees.

I went ahead and got pajamas just in case I do need to do an out-of-home sleep study. If I don't, they'd still be good to have anyway. I wanted short sleeves but long pants. Because I'm short, I got capri-style pants and that way they won't be too long.

I slept a little better with one exception. About an hour into my sleep, I woke up hot as fuck and my heart was pounding like when I was going through perimenopause. I don’t think I suffocated awake, but I don't know for sure. I doubt it. I was lying on my side. I usually fall asleep on my stomach and shift to my side in my sleep.

The Heart of Iron Challenge is out! There are 7 rides ranging from 24 miles to 38 miles. They're in locations where Iron Man events have taken place: Utah, Panama City, Chile, Spain, Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa.

Walmart really needs to quit being sneaky. I love salmon, and I can freeze it, but I'm getting tired of them periodically doubling up on things at random, hoping we'll just accept it anyway to make an extra buck.

AI gave me a good idea to try. Sometimes I make cucumber water, but one of its suggestions was mint, so I got some fresh mint leaves.

[u-look-beautiful-today]

I saw the hp thingy you posted for Wenclair and now i wanna know your hc for the whole Nevermore kids :p

I'm so sorry this has been sitting for a few days, I'm stupid and it took me a HOT minute to realize hp is Harry Potter (at least I hope it is cause I'm answering it as such) Also, these are just my own opinions and of course everyone is entitled to their own thoughts! I believe that most of these characters fit into multiple houses! Also, I'll add if they would play Quidditch or not.

Wednesday: I think a good majority of the fandom would put her in Slytherin and I would agree! However, I do headcanon that she wants to be in Ravenclaw and well, the Sorting Hat had other plans. I also find it funny to think about Wednesday getting placed into Ravenclaw and just being a fucking menace. She was BANNED from Quidditch but with some...convincing she was placed back on the team BUT with the promise that she is NOT allowed to be a Beater, so she becomes the Seeker.

Enid: I almost wanted to place her in Gryffindor, but her whole scene with Wednesday and saying "that's what friends do" and how much she values friendship and togetherness just made me convinced for Hufflepuff. Also, all Hufflepuffs are secretly FERAL and I stand by that. And I also love Slytherin/Hufflepuff relationships. She played for like a year, but was off-put when she broke a nail. She would rather cheer her girlfriend on. Also super cute image to see Enid wearing a Slytherin jersey for Wednesday.

Bianca: I'm so torn between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, just like Wednesday. But at the end of the day, Bianca is also a Slytherin. I mean COME ON. My girl went and made her own life for herself and reached her goals, basically poisoned Yoko to win a cup, and has a million walls up so no one sees her vulnerable. Slytherin. I also like the idea that her and Wednesday go rounds trying to be the top student. Captain of the Slytherin team obviously. She is the best Keeper to ever live.

Eugene: the biggest Hufflepuff to exist. Like I don't need any explanation. I would say that he has avoided Quidditch because he thought he wouldn't be any good, then during his last year he tries it out and turns out, he's a decent Seeker!

Yoko: I need fucking CHARACTERISTICS, MY GIRL DESERVED MORE SCREEN TIME...anyway, for now I want her in Ravenclaw. She would be a witch in the au so no vampire, but I would like to think she's super fucking wise and almost like she's lived for centuries. It also be funny to see Yoko just naturally super smart and it irks Wednesday to no end cause "what do you mean you learned how to do open heart surgery over the weekend?!?" Nah, she ain't down for Quidditch. Just like Enid, she would rather cheer on her own girlfriend than play.

Ajax: Hufflepuff. It's shown in the show that he seems to be loyal to his friends and he just has a very happy-go-lucky vibe about him. I also adore a good platonic Enid/Ajax, so they be the absolute chaotic/idiotic bestie duo that has all of the Hufflepuffs STRESSED. He was also BANNED. Not because of anything violent, but his antics were just too much.

Divina: Again, MY GIRL NEEDS SCREEN TIME. The most we see from her is really just going along with Bianca and being gay with Yoko. That being said, I would like to have her in Gryffindor. Mostly because of Ravenclaw/Gryffindor dynamics. Love the idea of Yoko just trying to chill in the common rooms and her girlfriend is just bouncing off the walls cause "THIS IS SO BORING, I NEED TO FIGHT GOD." Gryffindor Captain. She's a bit of a utility player, mostly does Chaser and Beater.

Kent: My boy also needs more screen time. I want the twins together and I would have them give off Weasley Twin vibes, so Gryffindor as well. I believe that Divina is his impulse control, however where Divina will say she's bored and needs to fight God, Kent will do it without telling ANYONE. He's the reason Gryffindor loses house points consistently. Obviously, he plays. He's a Beater and when the Twins are both the Beaters, absolute chaos during that game.

Tyler: Azkaban. Death penalty. He would only be a monster that Enid beats the fuck out of.

[captain-aralias]

Life update

TL;DR - currently still pregnant at 21 weeks, baby is currently ok.

but spent the last 3 days in hospital, getting surgery to try and stop baby coming dangerously early. now back to being WORRIED ALL THE TIME.

if you want to read about that, i've written a post just to get it all out. it's quite bleak, even though we are hoping for the best.

triggers in the below: pregnancy, miscarriage, other death

so yes! it's been a weird week.

started really well - i started taking liquid iron and felt GREAT, shockingly good to the extent that i assumed it was a placebo effect and not actually my body. this is not relevant to the rest of the story, just that i was feeling really confident, not tired for the first time in ages, having a good time.

wednesday - i got a text from the NHS saying i had an appointment the next day. again, so confident was i feeling about pregnancy that my reaction was to be pissed off. no i didn't have an appointment, this was my week of no appointments!!! i was going to go into work for one of my mandatory two days in the office, wtf.

a physical letter arrived at my house a few hours after this and confirmed that i did indeed have an appointment i'd never heard of. the only information about what it was were the words 'obstetrics f/up.' eventually i realised f/up meant 'follow up', rather than 'fuck up', but i was still pretty much in the dark about what it would be.

but i went along anyway, rather than cancelling in a fit of pique because i HAPPENED to have the lunchtime of the next day free. i did not go into work.

the appointment turned out to be .... a scan, performed by a doctor rather than the normal sonographer. i actually had been told that they would try and book something like this at my.... obstetrics appointment, hence the name. the reason for booking in this appointment was that every time i go for a scan, baby is not willing to move around so it has been hard to get all the views that are necessary. and also i've had IVF.

again, i thought - this is probably a waste of time. i'm a low risk patient! i just have IVF because i'm queer, i'm actually dead good at pregnancy. but hey ho.

and indeed, first time doctor scanned me, baby refused to move. went outside, drank some water, she scanned someone else, i went back - they scanned me again. declared baby is fine! doesn't even have a short leg like we were worried about before, brill. but...

i seem to have a short cervix. that could cause early delivery. maybe we should scan me the other way to confirm. but she has to scan someone else first.

this is - as you may guess - where the story gets bad. although i didn't guess that yet. i thought - early delivery? no problem. you mean, like 2 weeks or something, cool. i've already booked my maternity leave to start 2 weeks early.

NO. it means - like, any time from now. even though baby will literally die if born now.

scan confirms that cervix is 1mm, instead of the 25mm+ that is usually no cause to worry.

doctor says - you need to go to labour ward now and probably get surgery, and stay over night.

i'm still living in cloud cuckoo land at this point, so my brain is like - stay over night? but i have one-time only dinner plans at fortnum and mason tonight (a true story, a gift from my partner's rich eccentric mother).

we go over to the labour ward - at which point, my brain starts to point out that this is not good. we're put in a birthing suite to wait for someone to come and talk to us. usually, i would be texting my friend who is also a resident of the same town and due to have her baby 2 weeks before me (OR MAYBE NOT) but i guess this is where it hits me that i might never get to the bit where we are in the birthing suite.

basically from this point onwards, i cried at least several times per day until saturday. midwives kept trying to comfort me. the next doctor they brought to talk to me and my partner (fortunately with me) basically acted like he was telling me i had terminal cancer (i do not have terminal cancer). he wanted me to know that the baby might still die even if we do the surgery, and also that doing the surgery might also break my waters, and then they'd recommend terminating as i'm only 21 weeks pregnant, and babies usually don't survive earlier than 24 weeks. even then - that's very premature.

there was some suggestion they might be able to do the surgery THAT DAY, but it didn't work out. so we were transferred to the antenatal ward, given a (different) private room, and my partner was sent home to get my stuff. she came back and stayed the night in the single bed - not as fun as the fanfic makes it look! particularly because even though we were off the main ward, we could still hear.... people in labour. and babies - like the one we might not have - crying. and beeping - lots of beepings.

also - one of my friends came to pick up my car, which i'd left on the street back when i thought that the appointment would be maximum 2 hours. i was vvv upset about the baby, but my brain wouldn't shut up about the car either. WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN TO THE CAR. until it was gone, and then it was 100% baby panic.

monitoring of blood pressure and temperature too, so - should you get to sleep, you will definitely be woken at 2am and 6am. amazing.

cut to the next day - no food, little water. a bunch of drugs, no surgery until 3.30. surgery includes being completely numb from waist down, which is great (genuinely). as well as pain relief, this really decreases the humiliation of being in a room with 10 people all looking up your hospital gown while you can't control your bodily functions.

the surgeon had come in for like 5 minutes earlier and this is not an exaggeration of our conversation:

him: you're having this surgery, it had a 50% chance of failing to get you to full term even if we do put the stitch in successfully, sign this consent form please no offence lovely NHS, genuinely amazing throughout this whole situation, but this is the first time anyone had said 50% chance of failure.

me: [signs form, since has no choice really] him: any questions? me: er... him: [literally already out the door, genuinely did not wait for an answer] midwife [still there, apologetic] as you can see, they're very busy. if you have questions, best to write them down and just say them loudly when you get the chance

everyone else in the theatre was super nice. although also kept asking me about the baby i was convinced i might lose within the surgery (do you know the gender? what are you going to call him?). surgery went ok. very quick. did NOT lose the baby ... at that point. but couldn't stop crying as soon as i got out.

still numb for 6 hours. catheter horrible. spent 2 hours in the recovery ward - still no food allowed - under a weird inflatable blanket. wheeled back to the antenatal ward.

this time, we were on the main ward - although it was pretty quiet because they don't schedule people in for stuff on saturdays. just two women there - both waiting for emergency c-section the next day.

while i was glad neither were in labour, it was still super awkward and upsetting to be on the ward with them. sound carried really well, so we heard all their consultations, including a bit where one of them had to describe her previous history of pregnancy, which included having twins - one of whom DIED. omg. cue - another crying fit for self.

seriously - my overall feeling coming out of this was how amazing the NHS is, how amazing it was that the doctor caught my cervix the day before it opened fully during a random scan for something else (because my cervix was fully open during the surgery, 24 hours after the scan. vv bad) the midwives were so lovely, the nurses were so lovely. they gave me loads of great drugs too (progesterone - my old friend from IVF), which will hopefully keep contractions away, in addition to the stitch.

BUT.... it was pretty hellish to be incredibly emotional and stuck in hospital listening to this stuff for 2 days, unable to sleep. very very likely some of the worst days of my life so far.

i'm back home, as of yesterday, which is amazing. slept a full night, and i'm 2 days out of surgery. the symptoms of the surgery failing are all things that i am feeling right now - like.... pain. contractions (is this a contraction, or is this the baby moving??) and maybe your waters breaking, which could happen slowly so how do you know it's not happening RIGHT NOW.

so - basically, i am still not in a good place emotionally, even though we haven't lost the baby yet. i realised that as well as just.... the very fact of the possible death of a baby we have given a name to (we couldn't use the name again for another baby, could we?) ... i think i'm also in shock for the idea of the life i thought i was going to have this year. i've booked my maternity leave, i was getting into baby mode - starting to largely only want to read baby books, etc. thinking about buying the wrap-top from the advert i watch every time i go into hospital where you can put your baby inside the top and have them skin-to-skin.

and the idea of baby dying and then having to go back to work, my friend having her baby 2 weeks ahead of when i should have had mine... it's just awful. i want the baby, i want to go on maternity leave.

baby coming early but still within a viable window (so - hold on another 3+ weeks) doesn't worry me so much, though is worrying my partner in terms of possible developmental issues of pre-term children. i probably just can't conceptualise this, because my brain is thinking 'well, at least there would be a baby.'

so - that's where we are. doctors and internet both agree bedrest isn't really necessary or helpful, but i have my drugs + antibiotics. 22 weeks is on tuesday. 24 weeks (so viable but very premature baby) - 7th february.

if we make it through february, we'll be in the third trimester, and start to get some good rates of survival if baby comes early.

me to baby (proposed middle name: alexander) every few hours:

heard lots of stories of things being ok and people getting to full term (or close enough) from friends and midwives, one of the trainees literally said this had happened to her. this partly reassures me, and also makes me think - surely that means there must be a need for people to be in the BAD 60-40% to make up the statistics, and that could be me. (i know that's not how statistics works, it's how my brain works).

final doctor - a completely different person to any of the others in this story - told me i likely have a good chance because i have no history of cervical damage, to the extent that they aren't sure why this has happened to me. but the internet told me that it's less likely to be ok if the cervix opened (which mine did), so maybe.......

and maybe these pains are bad pains, rather than i was cut open pains. and maybe my water is breaking.........

in conclusion - i'll be a basketcase for the next few weeks, probably. and then possibly very sad. or possibly it will be some form of all right.

no need to respond to this post, if you got this far! in fact, i might prefer it - i turned off comments on my (much shorter) version of this on twitter as it's all too upsetting. but wanted to let people know, and also record for posterity while i felt a bit more with it/less sad.

likes are ok, even though obviously there's not much to like - except the NHS!! and my friend who took my car home.

this post is also why i probably won't do the 15 questions post that's going around, because it talks about 'when did you last cry' and children, even though we all know the answers to that now. i just don't want this shit in a normal happy meme post.

anyway - hope everyone else is having a nice weekend, and making and/or consuming good art <3

[shadsasaur]

TW PET EVERYTHING MEDICAL HORROR AGAIN UPDATE

monday we get in to see the best surgeon in province [AND THE ONLY VET IN PROVINCE WITH A CT SCAN, WE LITERALLY HAD NO CHOICE TO GO HERE DESPITE HAVING A BAD EXPERIENCE WITH THEM BEFORE. WE WERE TOLD BOOKING THROUGH REFERALS WOULD BE DIFFERENT]. we talk for a bit, shes optimistic, it'd be the second one she'd removed this week actually. she says they'll get us estimates. they say we can do a cardiac workup rn, a ct tomorrow, and amputate the full limb wednesday. they slap us with this.

[the first is cardiac workup, the second is CT, the third is the amputation]

i have a breakdown in the room. we had been warned to expect 6000-8000 total, not 16k. receptionist checks on us, i say as much, get told "well, this is gold star treatment we'd like. honestly the first is completely optional, we'll just err on the side of caution and use heart safe drugs for the CT if you'd like to skip it." we do skip it. we book the CT anyway. we have to know.

monday night at 8pm she eats and starts fasting. tuesday at 8 she is dropped off. we are told she'll be done "early afternoon" check the box saying "text us pics and updates during the day!" 6pm, we have heard NOTHING. we call back in distress saying "please tell us about our cat its been 10 hours and she hasnt eaten for 22".

we drive over. we here someone say remove toopys catheter and we're like ??? why has she had one in for this long after her CT. its been hours. you didnt call us?? how long would oyu have left my cat starving and suffering in fear if we hadnt shown up??? we wait 10 minutes, me crying upset while the worst shortfaced bulldog that keeps choking on every breath and 3 other randos are there. someone comes over, tells us "the doctor is too busy and can't talk to you tonight. she'll call you tomorrow. your surgery can be thursday instead" and hands us the debit machine and a paper.

YOU KNOW. THE KIND OF NEWS YOU WANT TO UNCEREMONIOUSLY HAND A PERSON IN A WAITING ROOM WITH A BUNCH OF STRANGERS AROUND WHILE TAKING THEIR MONEY.

i have a full breakdown. we finally get our terrified starving cat and leave.

all wednesday, we hear NOTHING.

today/thursday morning, lex is so mad and he calls. he gets told she'll call us when she finds time.

she finally calls us back after lunch, confirms it is indeed A Lot of cancer, that should not have been given that paper without anyone to talk to us, it is inoperable, what we can see is 20% of what it is. she walks us through drugs she's giving us for palliative care mode. i ask if its 20%, does this mean it started deeper and we noticed because it pushed out. she confirms that yes, there is no way it was treatable after it became visible, so us feeling guilty about not catching it earlier was unfounded. we did everything as best we could. we could not have changed this.

so yeah. painkillers and a painkilling anxiety pill for a while. we have to Make The Hard Decision when it grows large enough to press on her organs and either affect her going to the bathroom, or her breathing.

she doesnt fucking deserve this.

[lilimonarch]

Doctor Hanahaki - I promise that the ending always stays the same [1]

Doctor Hanahaki

Chapter 1

WC: 2,809

A day in the life of Dr. Akaashi and the rest of Sakura Clinic. Though there is one little bump in the smooth road Akaashi has come to know after all these years.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47404093/chapters/119452306

~

It fucking rained.

It always seemed to rain in this area of Japan, the raindrops pouring against the glass windows by his desk as he filled in the spreadsheet for one of his patients while preparing for the next. Valentine’s day was just around the corner, meaning there would be spikes in Hanahaki cases all over the globe. That being said, the day was almost over and Akaashi could head to the ramen place downtown with his coworker and fellow doctor (dare he say, friend?), Dr. Sugawara.

Despite Hanahaki being his area of expertise, Akaashi still found himself not understanding the disease. To devote oneself so much to another only to have their heart broken seemed... pointless? Yet he always knew no matter how distasteful he grew of the concept of ejecting bloodied flowers filled with bile, two things:

1. He had Hanahaki as a teenager.

2. It almost killed him.

The rest of the memories were a blur, not that Akaashi minded. Without the emotions of love holding him back, he could live his life free as an owl. He could pursue a medical career making six figures and becoming one of the best doctors in the country. If anything, he was grateful for the opportunities given to him. From a young child in Japan with a childhood as clear as polluted water to an aspiring doctor with a clinic in the cities of his home country. A second chance at life, if he decides to be all philosophical.

“Akaashi?” Shimizu Tanaka (Suga called her Kiyoko since they were friends before she got married), the nurse of the doctor's office, poked their head into the hall where Akaashi stood. “Yamaguchi Tadashi is waiting for you in room 3. Did you know you are on time for once?” She grinned and brushed a few stray strands of hair behind her ears. “I’m sure your patients are happy about that.”

“Right,” Akaashi brought his laptop into the room. Just two more patients. His fatigued personality shifted into something more comforting; he had gotten the skill of being a sympathetic doctor down decently well. “Yamaguchi? I’m Dr. Akaashi, nice to meet you. I heard you aren’t feeling too well, want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

He was an interesting one, Yamaguchi. His charts said he was only in his early twenties, practically a kid in Akaashi’s eyes (although pediatrics was more in Sugawara’s department). Akaashi knew it was Hanahaki the second he walked in, seeing the patient gripping the edge of the sink sputtering Sakura petals. The classic case of unrequited love to his best friend, who was very conveniently (or not so conveniently) taken. Akaashi wasn’t sure whether to recommend him for the surgery or just medicine and an inhaler until the feelings went away; they would have their follow-up within a week.

If it was only occasionally sputtering petals, Akaashi could afford to wait a bit longer.

His next patient was nothing too extraordinary. A college student who believed they were madly in love with their teacher’s assistant, bullshit. Akaashi could easily prescribe rest and could guarantee the symptoms would go away on their own.

The receptionists, nurses, and the other doctor had left, leaving Akaashi and Sugawara and the quiet office. There was a routine, make sure the lights were off and to wave to the janitors entering their nightly shift, lovingly tap the glass of the fish tank in the waiting area (to make sure they were alive, Sugawara insisted), and then finally leave with the ending of the day’s work. “Keiji!” Sugawara waved as he put his laptop into his bag. “Ramen and drinks, on me. Remember? It’s Wednesday!”

“Right, can’t say no to that!” Akaashi nodded and exited behind Sugawara and running under the rain to their respective cars. There was a ramen place downtown which the two had a tradition of going to every other Wednesday after work, and Akaashi did not mind since he did not have any alternatives. He was a young doctor (in relativity, he wouldn’t consider being in his late thirties as young) trying to keep up with work and making sure he had time to eat even if there was no time to cook (he knew how, and decently too, just no time). He appreciated the sentiment of their shared tradition, especially since Sugawara did have a home and family to go back to.

He chose to spend his evenings with Akaashi, and he was grateful.

Parking outside of the restaurant, they hurried inside and waved at the waiter who was always there for their antics after work. Sliding into the booth and putting their orders in (the usual) while the waiter brings their drinks before Akaashi prepares himself for the medical gossip Sugawara was about to spill right then and there. They always made sure not to use names or descriptions when talking about patients, since it could be considered a violation of health protocol, but it was all in good kind fun. “Okay, you will not believe this one girl I saw today,” Sugawara’s face lit up as he started explaining. “She’s 17, not even an adult, and she bangs on the window of my car telling me she has Hanahaki and loves me.”

Akaashi nodded as Suga continued to go on.

“Right? So, I’m freaking out, about to call the police cause- well- you don’t just go and bang on someone’s window. She doesn’t even have Hanahaki, no petals for shit. You know what she totally was though?” Sugawara inquired and Akaashi raised an eyebrow before his brain made the connection.

“She was high, wasn’t she?” Akaashi sighed, Sugawara nodding. “Of course.”

“Yeah, she’s still a kid so I tried to be nice and let her know that if she needs help, she can make an appointment and see me later, but I can’t just take her on the spot,” he mentioned, pulling his cup of soda closer to him, and taking a sip. “I didn’t want to leave her alone since she was clearly high as the sky but one of her friends came to drag her away and here’s the crazy part, you ready Akaashi?”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

“It was Shimizu’s kid.”

“The older one, right?” Shimizu had two kids, a daughter and a son, both spitting images of their mother and father.

“Yeah, Hanako.” Sugawara’s eyes lit up as he started to describe the daughter of their fellow (and best) nurse in the clinic. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen her, she wears contacts now, just like her mom. I asked her about school, and she says she’s doing fine but her friend? Well, I just hope they wake up and don’t remember the stunt they pulled,” Sugawara laughed a bit, Akaashi nodding as their food was set on the table, the ashen-haired male digging in and ending the conversation at that as Akaashi also went to eat his meal.

“I also have some news,” Akaashi murmured as he drank his tea. “I heard one of the receptionists has taken a liking to me.” Personally, Akaashi did not care. He wouldn’t say yes anyway; he just knew Sugawara would be intrigued.

Akaashi was right as the fellow doctor’s jaw dropped to the table, placing his hand over his mouth in absolute shock. “No way, who? Dr. Akaashi? More like Dr. Heartbreaker, don’t go giving this poor person Hanahaki, I don’t think I can handle our coworker getting it because of you.”

The small nickname made Akaashi smile ever so slightly, Akaashi laying the cup down. “I heard her talking to some of the other girls about my… eyes and my muscles. I don’t see it, but she did seem to be very attracted.”

“You are sounding all scientific again; and you are going to go break her heart,” Sugawara laughed before leaning across the table, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Come on, Akaashi. Tell me who it is, I won’t tell anyone,” he begged but to no avail, Akaashi would not answer.

“No names, remember?”

Sugawara huffed in disappointment as he slid back into his seat, paying for the check. “That’s not fair, that rule is for patients only!” All in good fun as their night ended, waving goodbye, and heading home.

Akaashi enjoyed the drive home more than the drive to work, to finally go home and see his cat. After all, who needed a romantic partner or kids when you could have pets? He brushed the raindrops off his coat before unlocking the door to his apartment. Sure, he had the money to live in a house, but so much space for one person and a cat seemed excessive. Besides, it was a very nice apartment with a view of downtown, but quiet since it was decently high up. “Nariko?” Akaashi called out, a black cat poking his head out from the couch. “Nariko, I’m back.”

The cat immediately sat back down on the couch. Akaashi smiled and laid his bag down on the side, sitting next to Nariko before the cat stood up and walked to sit on the doctor’s lap. Nariko, quiet just like Akaashi.

Until Nariko started meowing, her paw pointing towards the bag with the laptop inside. “Nariko, I just got home. I’ll get up in a second,” Akaashi sighed, closing his eyes but Nariko continuing, using her paw to pat Akaashi who accepted his defeat and opened his eyes to face the cat. “Nariko, what is it?” The cat jumped up and started walking towards the door to the office. “Nariko, what do you want with-” his sentence cut as his heart sank, Akaashi jumping up and rushing towards the office. “Shit, the interview. Thanks Nari!” He ran to boot up his computer and made sure he looked somewhat presentable.

Doctor by day, Hanahaki commentator by night. Occasionally, the news channel who fell in love with his expertise made them one of their disease correspondents (that’s where he got the nickname Dr. Hanahaki). Of course, the exhaustion of a long week which was only on Wednesday had caused him to forget, and he was expected to be on the air in 10 minutes. Akaashi set up his camera and joined the call the network had sent him, sighing in relief when he had arrived a mere two minutes before the start of his appearance.

The producers were less than pleased with his disheveled but put together presentation, telling him to put up the personality the viewers so adored. He brought in skyrocketing views, his doctorship was adored by constant viewers as a flirty and confident male… everything Akaashi was not. Turning on his camera and plastering the smallest smile he could muster as he was introduced once more to the viewers. “Well, for that we have our own disease correspondent, Dr. Akaashi Keiji. Akaashi, how are you doing?”

“I’m doing well, thank you,” he responded, already feeling exhausted from the amount of contrasting energy the interviewer was shedding.

“That’s great, to the issue at hand, Hanahaki. One more time, why don’t you tell the viewers at home what the disease can do to a body,” he grinned, Akaashi nodding.

This was how every interview started, reexplaining Hanahaki to the viewers the interviewer so mentioned. The same old story, nothing too out of the ordinary. “Hanahaki is a pathogen which is activated by the strong feelings and belief of unrequited love. This sets of a signal in the brain that weakens the immune system enough to let the flowers sprout in your lungs so a person will try to cough or throw up the petals which are shed until either you get the surgery… or you suffocate.” Akaashi has seen the latter in person, just once. He cared for his patients and most of them lived in the short run, but faulty surgeries from a desperation which could not wait, and he would find himself at their funerals. Despite this, one man had died in his office. He should have gone to the hospital, Akaashi attempted to distract himself as he saw flowers sprout from the victim’s eyes, a memory clear as day.

“Speaking of the surgery,” the man on the air interrupted. “How do you feel about the rumors of the Hanahaki surgery secretly being faulty?”

The question was promoting false information, that’s for sure. “It’s a conspiracy, there’s no proof of that,” Akaashi shook his head. “The surgery so far has been extremely effective with curing the main type of Hanahaki and while it does not work with Hanakajou, it does work with Hanahaki. People should be cautious about misinformation.” Akaashi paused as ran a finger through his hair. “That being said, if any information comes to light, we’ll be the first to act and I’ll let you know, sir.” Sister-disease Hanakajou, flowers and thorns sprouting out of the body slowly impaling the host and no surgery could cure it, Akaashi argued it was much scarier.

“You heard it from him, the surgery not working is fake news! Breaking information from our own Akaashi Keiji,” Akaashi shared a smile which would surely be clipped when he searched himself up on google. “Alright, now as you know, there’s a new type of Hanahaki which is much deadlier than the first and the surgery has been proven ineffective and deadly for those suffering from the new type, Hanahajou, a mix of traditional Hanahaki and sister-disease Hanakajou.”

Akaashi, always the one under pressure. If he was being honest, he had never even encountered Hanakajou, much less the newer type. There was hardly any information on any of them, though Hanakajou was much easier to diagnose due to the flowers growing on the outside of the body and Hanakajou was incurable other than the love being returned. No surgery to save those patients, death awaited far too many of them. “The breakthrough of Hanahajou is very recent and there is not much information. What we do know is it has the same cause as Hanahaki, though it progresses much faster and can be accompanied by thorns in the respiratory tract with emotions accompanying their unrequited feelings. Huge risks of scarring, more than Hanahaki.”

“Any advice for our viewers to not contract any of these awful diseases, doctor?”

Akaashi froze as he played a smile for the audience. “Don’t fall in love.”

“Right, of course. Thank you, Akaashi. Back to-” the rest of the sentence cut out as he hung up, leaning back into his chair as Nariko hopped into his lap. Akaashi sighed as he started stroking the cat’s fur, the silence being replaced by soft purring.

“Nariko, I might head to sleep. I have a lot of patients tomorrow,” Akaashi rubbed his temples to ease a forming headache, getting up and changing into his pajamas. The moonlight cascaded over the city, Akaashi staring in the window as the rain continued to pour. “You figure it’ll stop raining anytime soon?” A hypothetical question directed at the cat, Nariko shaking his head. “Very well, when it does, I’ll take you out and you can pick out a new ball of yarn,” he smiled softly. “Good night, Nariko.”

A never-ending schedule filled with constant repeats. When Akaashi woke up, it was still clear the rain would not subside, even clearer when he got into his car. Driving to the clinic, he makes it in before Sugawara and Shimizu before going to work and open his laptop. “Dr. Akaashi?” One of the receptionists poked her head into the medical wing, catching Akaashi’s attention. “One of your patients cancelled and a new one called so I switched your schedule out. I’d check his chart; it doesn’t sound great.”

“Right, thank you,” Akaashi mumbled and opened up his schedule, seeing how the once familiar name he had seen for a week now was replaced by a name he could not remember but a familiar name, nonetheless. The letters arranged in such a manner used to mean the world to him, he would be able to tell. Yet, when Sugawara asked Akaashi if he knew the person, Akaashi would shake his head.

The day would go by, seeing patients one by one and filling out information on his laptop until he was interrupted by a nurse telling him it was time to move on. “Dr. Akaashi?” Shimizu waved a bit, holding a clipboard before handing it to Akaashi. “He’s ready, and you’re behind schedule.”

“Gee, thanks for the reminder,” Akaashi let out a small chuckle before reading the name on the paper and entering the room.

“…’Kaashi?”

“Bokuto Koutarou, right?” Akaashi closed the door behind him and sat down. “I’m Dr. Akaashi, it’s nice to meet you. So, what seems to be the problem?” There was a feeling which made him sick to his stomach, though Akaashi could not pinpoint it.

[tashdemetriou]

i just need to vent into the void bc im really sad

tw death mention if you choose to read

so i found out today that my best friend from high school passed away in her sleep wednesday. i've not talked to her in a really long time and we somewhat had a falling out, but still wished each other well of course. i feel like i'm not allowed to be sad bc i've not been friends with her in so long, and that was bc i cut her off when she hurt my feelings over and over, i feel like i don't have the right to be sad about someone i cut out of my life... but i also logically know that of course i am going to be sad, she was my best friend. we watched once upon a time together, we went to the hunger games midnight premiers together, we spent every single weekend together, and we even took the same electives in high school to have classes together. teachers had to separate us bc we would talk all the time. she was there for my surgeries and she helped me. she carried my school bag for me when i was on crutches recovering from surgery, like... of course i will be sad. she just turned 25 and died in her fucking sleep... like i can't fathom that. i cannot comprehend it. and i am so beside myself, and i was just thinking about her the other day too. wondering how she was or what she was doing. i'm just really sad.

[hangovercurse]

Stay With You ii

You get the call after Rook’s accident and go to the hospital to take care of him.

Requests: “ Could you maybe write another Rook story about where you get the call after his accident that he’s in the hospital and just always staying there with him and when his dad shows up he sees you leaning on the bed sleeping holding Rooks hand or something and he knows you’ll take care of him? I just really love Rook “ “ I was wondering if you know what happened to rook and if you could write something cute like taking care of him after being worried at first about him. I had a mental breakdown when we got the news I'm hoping he gets well soon “

JP “Rook” Cappelletty X Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of the accident (violence, broken bones, etc.), angst

A/N: I needed something happy to come out of this situation so... I wrote it.

Word Count: 2372

part i

You woke up a few hours later to Rook moving under you, your eyes finding his instantly. “Hey baby, how are you feeling?” You asked as you sat up, a smile on your face as you saw that the bruising on his face was fading. He had clearly just woken up as well, sleep still in his eyes.

“Better, I think. Awake.” You nodded, moving the pillow from his lap.

“Your dad’s here.” You said softly, nodding your head towards the man who was sleeping in the chair against the wall. You giggled at the sight and Rook let out a chuckle.

“I’m hungry” He whined and you frowned, remembering what the anesthesiologist told you about no food 8 hours before surgery. He was scheduled to go in at 10 am, and it was currently 5 am.

“I’m sorry, babe. The doctor said no food until after the surgery. I can see if they’ll let you eat jello if you want.” He frowned and you reached up to rub his face. You could tell this was going to be a long 8 weeks.

Truth be told, Rook was a baby when he got sick. He would lay in bed and whine until you agreed to cuddle with him. And if he wanted something, he would pout until he got it. But you kind of loved it. “I’ll be right back.” You whispered, standing up to go find a nurse.

He smiled at you, “can you hand me my phone?” He asked. You moved to the other side of his bed where his phone lay on a table and handed it to him. “I’m gonna see if Colson’s still up.”

You nodded, happy that the two boys were so close. You put your mask on and left the room, flagging down one of the nurses working the night shift.

When you got back into the room with 2 cups of lemon-flavored jello, Johnny was up and the father and son were having a light conversation. You set the cups on the tray and moved it so it was in front of Rook. He tried to raise his hands but you could tell he was struggling. He let out a sigh and looked at you, embarrassment in his eyes.

You smiled lightly, trying not to giggle at his helplessness. “Do you want me to help you?” You asked and he gave a nod, pouting. You adjusted his bed so he was sitting up fully.

“Can you sit next to me?” Johnny let out a laugh as you rolled your eyes a little bit.

Rook tried to shift over in the bed, but you could tell it was hurting him. “Baby stop, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” You sighed.

“I want you to sit on the bed with me.”

You looked at his dad, an exasperated look in your eyes. He just chuckled and turned back to his phone. “I don’t want to hurt you.” You frowned, taking notice of the fact that there was very little room on the bed to begin with.

He squinted his eyes at you, still pouting. “You won’t hurt me.” You raised your eyebrow and moved to sit halfway on the bed, your right thigh resting on the mattress but the majority of your weight still on your left foot on the ground. “Not good enough.”

You rolled your eyes, scooting closer so that your back was against the back of the bed, turned on your side. He smiled, reaching his arm up slowly to try and wrap it around your shoulders. You glared at him, but he shot you a “My hand is broken, not my arm.”

You sighed, sitting up and leaning onto his chest, where you knew he wanted you. You pulled your other leg onto the bed, careful not to put any pressure against his. You leaned up slightly, putting weight on your right hand as your left grabbed the jello cup beside the bed. He opened his mouth and you rolled your eyes. “I don’t like how much you’re enjoying this.”

You placed a small spoonful of the yellow food into his mouth, making him smile. “In a few years, its gonna be you in this bed and I’ll be feeding you jello.” You tilted your head at his words, furrowing your eyebrows. “Y’know, when you’re giving birth to our kid.”

You blushed, a smile making its way to your face. You knew JP wanted kids at some point, and you did too. But you guys had never really talked about it. And now he was bringing it up so casually. Before you could respond, the door opened, and in walked Colson with a backpack full of what he called “everything Rook will ever need,” which you assumed to mean weed and tequila.

Rook smiled, “Yo, dude, what’s up?” Colson threw the bag onto the floor on the opposite side of the bed from you.

“How are you, man?” Colson asked, throwing himself onto the chair next to it.

Rook shrugged, “I’ve been better.” He chuckled and you rolled your eyes, a small giggle coming from you. “Y/N’s feeding me, so it’s not too bad.”

His dad spoke up, “You’re forcing Y/N to feed you jello, you mean?” You laughed at that as Rook’s shoulders fell. “Nice to see you, Kelly.”

“You too, Johnny. I like the new hair.” Colson smiled at the older man, who thanked him. “So, what did the doctors say?”

Rook gave him the rundown, one surgery today, Wednesday, and another on Friday. Casts on his hands for 6 weeks and on his legs for longer. The four of you spoke for a while afterwards and then Colson pulled out a game of connect four (which you raised your eyebrows at but Rook seemed excited about it).

Eventually the Anesthesiologist, Dr. Stenson, came in with a few nurses to take Rook to surgery. You had to climb off the bed, much to Rook’s dismay. “I can’t go into surgery with you, dummy.” But part of you wished you could stay with him because you did not like the way those nurses were looking at him. Colson noticed your distaste and chuckled, causing you to send him a glare.

“He’s going to be very drowsy when he comes back once the anesthesia wears off.” Dr. Stenson said, and you smiled at the thought of Rook on anesthesia, which he claimed would be “just like being high.” Dr. Stenson shook his head at that.

Before he was wheeled out of the room on his bed, he made grabby hands at you as best as he could. You leaned closer to him, pressing your lips against his quickly. “I love you, Y/N” He said, quietly. He didn’t mind anyone else hearing, but he wanted these words to be only for you.

“I love you too.” You said, just as quietly. He leaned back up to kiss you again, making you smile. You were starting to love helpless Rook; it was just endless attention and neediness.

The nurses took him off to surgery, leaving you, Johnny, and Colson alone in the room together. You collapsed onto the chair you had slept in, letting out a sigh as Colson chuckled at you. “Shut up.” You scrunched your nose at him, curling into the chair and bringing the pillow under your head.

“You guys are cute, what?” He asked, defensively, but the smile on his face was anything but.

You pouted, trying to push yourself further into the chair to find some comfort, but you knew your attempts to sleep were futile. You groaned, sitting up and throwing your head down towards your chest. “I’m so tired.” You mumbled, causing the two men to laugh.

“This is your life for the next 2 months.” Johnny chuckled. “If he doesn’t marry you after this then you need to leave his ass.”

You chuckled, the irony of his dad telling you that made it even funnier. “I can’t believe he still hasn’t proposed.” Colson shook his head in disappointment.  

A laugh fell from your mouth. “It’s funny how everyone is more impatient than I am for my own proposal.”

“I don’t understand how you’re so patient! I’ve barely been with Megan a whole year and I already wanna marry her.” Colson threw his head back against the back of his chair.

“I mean it’s not like I’m worried it’s not gonna happen. We were just talking about kids. He just doesn’t feel the rush, I guess. I don’t either, what’s the big deal with getting married anyways?”

Colson tilted his head at you, “It’s like, this huge proclamation of your love. Like you’re telling the whole world that you’re gonna love each other for the rest of your lives.”

You shrugged, looking down at your nails. “I mean, we don’t really need big proclamations. It’s in the little things. I love him, he loves me.”

You could feel both men’s eyes on yours and heat ran to your cheeks as you thought about the idea of a white dress. “But you do wanna get married, right?” Johnny asked and you smiled.

“Of course, I just don’t want to push him into something like that. He’ll ask when he’s ready.”

Colson shook his head as you looked back up, “He is one lucky motherfucker. Literally every other person would’ve kicked his ass by now.” You chuckled, not saying anything. “Wait you guys were talking about kids?”

You nodded, “right before you got here, actually.”

Colson furrowed his eyebrows, “I never saw him as the type, honestly.”

You smiled widely, “He brought it up.” Colson shrugged, a hum coming from his mouth. “I think it’d be kinda nice. I don’t know how it would work with him being on tour all the time, but that’s a discussion for another day.”

“I seriously can’t imagine Rook being a dad.”

“Can you imagine Rook getting married?” You giggled as Colson shook his head.

“Well I, for one, am looking forward to being a grandad, so hop on that.” Johnny said and you laughed. You spent the rest of the time while Rook was in surgery playing connect four and eating shitty hospital food, trying to keep your mind off the fact that Rook was in fucking surgery.

When he did get back, it was a sight to behold. The nurses wheeled him back into the room, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. “Y/NNN!” He slurred, “Look at my beautiful girlfriend.” He said to the nurses and you and Colson busted out laughing. “She’s so cool. She comes on tour with me sometimes, and we partyyy.” He made a dancing motion with his arms even though they his right was in a very large cast.

“Okay Rookie, the nurses are gonna leave now, okay?” You said, trying to hide your laughter. The nurses gave you a look of thanks and left the room after leaving you with a list of what he could and couldn’t do. Colson took his phone out and started recording, knowing that whatever Rook was gonna say next would be funny.

The surgery went well according to them, but the doctors would be in later when the medicine wore off to tell you more. “How are you feeling?” You asked, knowing he wouldn’t give a real answer.

“I feel greeeat. I’d feel better if my fiancé were laying with me right now, but other than that I am just fine.”

You cocked an eyebrow, an amused look on your face. “Your fiancé?”

“Yeahhhh.”

“When did you propose?” You giggled, looking over to his dad and Colson who were both cracking up.

A look of realization crossed Rook’s face, “Oh shit, I forgot that step, didn’t I?” You nodded, “Do you wanna get married?” You bent over in laughter at his innocent expression. He pouted at you, whining. “Why are you laughing I’m asking you to marry me?”

You tried to speak through your laughs, “I’m sorry babe.” You took a deep breath in, “I’m not laughing at you.”

“So, you don’t wanna get married?” He asked, getting very upset.

“I do, baby. I do. But you gotta get a ring.”

“Oh yeaaaah.” He looked over at Colson. “Colson, where’s the ring?” Your head snapped to Colson, whose face went red.

“Dude you didn’t get a ring.” He tried to cover it up but you could tell he was lying.

Your eyes went wide and your mouth hung open. “Yes I did, I told you to bring the ring with you when you came.” He whined.

You giggled, hand going to your mouth. “Oh wait.” He said, turning back to you. “I can’t ask you to marry me right now. I gotta get down on one knee and my legs are broken.”

Johnny had an amused look on his face when you looked over to him for help. “Okay, Rookie. I’ll forget that you proposed and then when your legs get better you can do it again, okay?”

He nodded, “But you’ll still say yes, right?”

“I’ll still say yes.” You smiled, eyes closing as you continued to laugh. “You should get some sleep, hun.” You moved his braids out of his face.

“I wanna cuddle.” He pouted.

“You just had surgery; I can’t give you cuddles.” You frowned as he looked sad.

“Why don’t you love me?”

“I do love you, Rookie. I just can’t cuddle you with your arm broken.” You could hear Colson wheezing from the opposite side of the bed. “Get some sleep and we can cuddle when you wake up.”

He groaned but leaned back into the bed anyways, slowly drifting off to sleep. You turned to Colson, eyes wide and face red. “You had a whole conversation about marriage while you had his ring in your bag?” You whisper screamed.

He raised his hands up in surrender, “I was just doing what I was told. I didn’t think he’d propose to you while he was high off his ass on anesthesia.” He chuckled.

Johnny chuckled, “at least you got it on video.” You sighed and rolled your eyes, putting your face in your hands.

“Congratulations!” Colson said, eyes swinging up in the air.

[voiceless-terror]

I’m bad at prompts so I have an aesthetic vibe for a fic: dusty library, silver glasses, warm blanket, hot tea, cold voices.

Jon wants to get Martin’s attention. Daisy and Melanie have an unusual plan.

“I think he’s made it quite clear that he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“I need...I need to make sure he’s okay. Daisy’s already tried and well, you-”

“Absolutely not.”

“Exactly.”

Jon sighed. He needed to trust Martin, he knew this. But how could he, when he faded more and more each day? When Jon couldn’t reach him, couldn’t know he was safe? He needed to touch him, make sure he was still solid, still there. That Jon still cared. And if Jon could just break through-

“He won’t let me talk to him. And I don’t know what to do.” The words came out more plaintively than he would’ve liked. Melanie gave him an unimpressed look, Daisy leaned back on the couch. He didn’t know why he’d suddenly decided to confess his feelings to these two, perhaps it was the leftover alcohol in his system from their afternoon drink. Basira was off on another lead and Daisy needed the distraction. They all did. And now they were back at the office, bored and lethargic, Jon dodging the paper balls Melanie lazily tossed his way.

“You’ve got to do something,” Daisy drawled, idly picking at her nails. “To get his attention. You’ve got to make him come to you.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Jon groaned in frustration. “If I did, I would’ve done it already.”

“Wait.” Melanie sat up straighter, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “I know exactly what to do.” Daisy and Jon shared a glance as she broke into a smirk. 

“And Martin won’t be able to resist you.”

____________

“Is this really necessary?” Jon asked, flinching back as Melanie applied the pink-coated brush to his cheek. “It seems a bit excessive.”

“Stop moving. And yes, if you want to look the part.” Melanie wielded the makeup brush like a weapon as Daisy followed with a critical eye. “Does he look pathetic enough?”

“Hmm.” Daisy leaned forward, uncomfortably close to Jon’s face. “I think he needs a bit more. Just a pinch.”

“Agreed.”

“This is ridiculous,” Jon snarked, leaning away from Melanie’s hands. “I don’t know why I agreed to this. It’s not going to work.”

“You agreed to this because you know it’s going to work,” Melanie insisted, dipping the brush in the compact. “Trust me, Martin won’t be able to resist doting on you if you look properly ill. When I came here the second time ‘round, he hovered outside the door the entire time. “Do you need anything, Jon? Can I get you some tea? Are you feeling alright?”

“That’s not what he sounds like-”

“That’s exactly what he sounds like,” Daisy smirked, settling back into the couch. “If you don’t like the makeup, we can always go with option two-”

“I am not letting Melanie punch me, thank you very much.” She still harbored a lot of residual (and rightful, in his opinion) anger from the surgery incident, and he wasn’t willing to be the outlet for it. “How do we know he’ll even see me?”

“He goes down to the library every Wednesday, sneaks in and out real quiet-like,” Daisy repeated for the third time. “Trust me, I know his patterns.” There was still some Hunt in her yet, no matter how much she starved it. Listen to the quiet. He didn’t say it aloud, but from the look in Daisy’s eyes he didn’t need to. “We’ll set you up there. Don’t worry, he won’t be able to miss you.”

“Whatever you say,” he grumbled, batting away Melanie’s hand. “Are you done yet?” She evaluated him with a scowl.

“That should do it.” She shut the compact with a definitive snap. “I was going to add a bit of purple eyeshadow under the eyes, but that might be overdoing it. You already look like a zombie.”

Daisy nodded appreciatively. “Powder did the job. God, Melanie. You’re a pro.”

“Thank you,” she preened as Jon rolled his eyes. “Now, for the finishing touch!” She leaned forward, yanking the scrunchie out of his hair and ignoring his yelp with an air of satisfaction. “Perfect!”

“I fail to see why that was necessary!” His head ached from the sudden pull on his hair, which was now falling down his shoulders in a tangled, ruffled mess. God, I must look insane. He lifted a hand to put it in some semblance of order when Melanie grabbed at it, stopping him in his tracks.

“No, you’ll ruin it!” she snapped. “Martin likes it when it’s down.”

“How do you know that?”

“God, he really is oblivious,” Daisy said with a disbelieving chuckle. “I may have only visited a few times, but even I saw the way he stared at you whenever you so much as touched your hair. It was sickening to watch.”

“C’mon, we’ve got to get you settled. We have to time this perfectly.” Melanie gestured impatiently for him to get up. “Daisy’ll take you up. I’ve got to grab something.” Jon didn’t trust her but in all honesty, what did he have to lose? The things we get up to when Basira’s gone...though I suppose this is significantly better than the Coffin Incident. 

Daisy took his arm, leaning on him for a bit of support as they made their way up to the library. To anyone else it would look the opposite, that he was the one relying on her- Daisy was good at hiding her weakness. “There’s a couch by the front desk,” she murmured as they rounded the corner. “It’ll be right in his line of vision.”

“What if he isn’t paying attention?” Jon worried, watching as the other staff studiously avoided their gaze, side-stepping them in the hallway. The Archives were truly toxic, and no one wanted to anger the heavily-scarred, scowling Archivist and his rabid ex-cop friend. For the first time in his life, Jon was intimidating. He didn’t like it.

“He always pays attention to you,” Daisy insisted. “He just doesn’t want you to see it.” The words put a lump in his throat. He wondered if they were true. He opened his mouth to reply when Melanie scurried up behind them, her arms full of-

“No.”

“Yes.” Melanie pushed into him, impatiently urging them forward. “Trust me, it’ll work.”

“I am not-” He was cut off by a surprisingly strong push from Daisy, landing him on the couch with an ‘oof.’ Melanie threw the offending object around his shoulders- a fluffy pink blanket Jon recognized from its place on Basira’s cot. He tried to worm his way out of it but Melanie gave him a sharp slap on the arm, ignoring his hiss of pain. He looked around, wildly embarrassed by the entire situation to find that the room was strangely empty, which was surprising for the time of day. I suppose everyone’s trying to avoid us these days.

Daisy froze, her eyes narrowing and posture straightening. “He’s coming.”

Melanie swore, running around the corner and coming back with an old, heavy tome she'd snatched off the nearest shelf. She grinned, an almost manic thing that Jon instinctively leaned back from. “The final touch,” she said proudly, not waiting for his answer as she opened the book with a flourish, flipping the pages in front of his face like a fan. He flinched back, utterly confused.

“Melanie, what on earth are you-”

_______

Martin heard him before he saw him.

The scurrying of feet across the hardwood was strange enough, but Jonathan Sims sitting on the library’s best couch, sneezing into a fluffy blanket and looking bleary-eyed and very exhausted was even stranger. Well, not the exhausted part. That was Jon’s normal state of being. 

But there he sat, wrapped in Basira’s fluffy pink blanket with a flushed face, messy hair, and an ashen pallor that could only come from sickness. Martin had seen it before, back when he lived in Document Storage and Jon was working himself into the ground, much like he was doing nowadays. He felt that pang of worry that accompanied those long nights in the Archives, something he was trying desperately to tamp down.

Working for Peter was infuriating and isolating, just as it was supposed to be. He was constantly reminding himself that it was for the greater good, that he was doing something important, protecting his friends. Protecting Jon. But how could he protect him when he kept finding Martin, even though he promised to trust him? How could he protect him when he kept throwing himself headlong into any danger he could find? How could he protect him, when his biggest enemy was himself?

Another sneeze. Jon looked almost confused by it, maybe even offended that it happened. It made him want to smile, an urge he fought down as he tried to remember Peter’s promise to keep them safe if he kept his distance. He hazarded one last glance, sure that he wasn’t in Jon’s line of sight that he noticed one last detail- Jon’s sweater. Incredibly baggy, worn, light blue knit- a color he’d never seen on him before.

Martin’s sweater. And with that, he found himself walking over to Jon almost involuntarily, steps loud and purposeful as they startled Jon from his perch on the couch. And when Jon noticed him he smiled, so bright and happy and obviously extremely out of it if he was having this reaction to Martin. His face really did look flushed up close- he must have a fever, especially if he wandered up here in this state. Martin successfully resisted the urge to feel his forehead. 

“M-Martin!” God, how could he not talk to Jon, when he said his name with such happiness? He fought to keep his voice level and cool as he responded.

“Jon. What are you doing up here?” Jon’s smile dimmed slightly, and Martin tried not to feel guilty. He did not succeed.

“I, um-” Jon stuttered, his usual sign of nervousness as he ran a hand through his hair. His hair, that was mused and tangled and falling in his face. Fuck. “I w-was reading.” He struggled to pick up a particularly heavy-looking book from where it sat on the couch next to him, its title obscured from Martin’s view. “It was getting, er, a bit stuffy down in the Archives.”

A red flag if Martin ever saw one. They rarely left the Archives these days, unless it was for a quick lunch and even then, Jon had to be dragged out bodily. He sighed, trying not to meet Jon’s pleading eyes. And still, he couldn’t help but ask. “Are you...okay?”

Jon looked down to his lap, the blanket half slipping off his shoulders as he fidgeted with his hands. Martin looked pointedly away. “Not feeling very well,” Jon murmured to the ground, looking strangely nervous, maybe even guilty. That didn’t make sense. He must be really ill, if he’s actually admitting to it. Martin hesitated, fighting between what he should do and what he really, really wanted to do. The cold evaporated just a little and Martin had never felt so seen. 

He missed that.

And so, less reluctantly than he would have liked, he extended a hand down to Jon, who looked at it in shock. “C’mon. Let’s get you back downstairs, I’ll make tea.” Make tea. His solution for everything, he remembered Tim deriding. But Jon looked at him like he’d offered much, much more than that. Maybe he had. The hope in his eyes was too much to bear. So when Jon put a thin, scarred hand in his, he looked away, even as he helped him to his feet.

To his disdain and delight, Jon immediately leaned into his side, as if trying to leech warmth that Martin couldn’t provide. In fact it was now Jon who was the warmer of the two- the Eye would not accept the chill of the Lonely, and the fever probably didn’t help. He was like a touch-starved cat looking for a crumb of affection, and god did he want to give it to him. If it were the Martin of a year ago he would have blushed, stammered, maybe even squeezed him back. Now he can only offer him the shoulder, nothing more.

Jon didn’t say anything more than a muttered thanks as they made their way down to the Archives, as if he were afraid of spooking him. More than one staff member they saw stared; Martin had been AWOL except for a few official emails, and was now suddenly the assistant to the head of the institute. To see him with the dreaded Head Archivist must have been even more of a shock. He felt pity- what a pair we make.

By the time they arrived at the archives, Jon had leant almost all of his weight against Martin’s side, making it difficult to maneuver them both down the stairs. No one was there, and he wanted to scold the other three, wherever they were, for leaving Jon to wander in his condition. I’ll fix him tea, get him on the cot and then I’ll go, he promised himself. 

Easier said than done.

He barely managed to pry Jon off of him, and only with the promise to return with a cup of tea did he let go. Never in his wildest daydreams did he imagine Jon to be this clingy, hanging off him like a limpet. As he made his way to the break room he drew the Lonely back to him like a security blanket, albeit a cold one. You can’t stay. You have to go. He looked blankly around the room he used to think of as a safe haven; it was no longer familiar, different mugs on the table, different food in the cupboards, a bag of makeup on the counter. He no longer had a place. 

Jon was sitting up on the cot when he arrived back, cup of tea in hand. He pointedly didn’t meet his eyes as he handed it over, staring at his feet and ignoring Jon’s thanks as he turned to leave. Go go go-

“Wait!”

Damn it.

He turned. “What is it, Jon? I have to-”

“Will you stay?” His face was so open, so vulnerable it made Martin ache with longing. “Just- just for a bit.”

Martin sighed, trying to maintain his stoic façade. “You know I can’t.”

“I miss you.”

“Jon-”

“I know, I know,” Jon replied, voice going quiet. He thought dying would harden the man, but it only seemed to soften his sharp edges. “I’m sorry.” He held the mug between his hands, staring down like it was something precious.

“It’s fine,” Martin replied, though they both knew it wasn’t.

“Will you stay if I don’t talk?” Jon leveled that hopeful gaze at him again and Martin looked up to the ceiling for divine intervention that wouldn’t come. 

“Jon-”

“Please.” He was begging. His eyes were bright, whether from tears or the fever Martin couldn’t discern. But what was he to do, say no? Not when he was like this, not when he was sick. Martin made excuses, none of them particularly convincing even to himself and they certainly wouldn’t be to Peter, but it didn’t matter. He’d already made his choice as soon as Jon said the word.

“Okay. For a bit.” That smile again. Jon said nothing as Martin tentatively sat beside him on that small, rickety cot. He would only stay for a bit, until Jon fell asleep. He had no one to look after him, after all. He would go back up and face Peter later. 

For now, he let Jon rest his head against his shoulder. He let his fingers rise of their own accord and brush the hair from Jon’s face, eliciting a shiver. When he fell asleep, Martin didn’t move. He needs the rest. So he sat, reveling in the warm, heavy weight of everything he’d given up, everything he stood to lose, and knew he made the right decision.

Much later, when he’s faced Peter’s disappointed gaze and a mountain of extra work, he notices the strange, powdery cast on his sleeve from where Jon had laid his head. When he rubs at it, his fingers come back with hints of pink and white. It takes him a moment to put the pieces together- the footsteps in the library, the absence of Daisy and Melanie, the makeup on the counter. He wants to roll his eyes, wants to be angry.

Instead, for the first time in months, he laughs.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28581141

[therealjordan23]

Hey guys, it’s Jordan! I’ve been granted some ‘screen time’, because my nurses don’t want me looking at screens before the surgery. Otherwise, I would’ve been a whole lot more active :)

First off, I need to address the 2 very special birthdays that I missed, so happy birthday @dellyduck and @riverajocabed1! 

The whole fracture has been very... unstable. It fucks with me. Sometimes the injury is severe, and there’s internal bleeding. Other times, the fracture decides to chill out for the day?? I honestly would explain further, but I don’t even know how, fuck science and those long words XD. I haven’t gone into the actual surgery yet, because they need to make sure everything’s good. And since it finally is, I am due for surgery on Wednesday :) 

A question people have been asking was how do I write for OTLTA in this condition? Well, I write it down on some paper, and Jess, the lovely lady who’s been updating you guys, has been typing it up. Writing it by hand is a bitch, but I’d rather do it now when I have the time. 

If I don’t catch up on your guys’ messages, do forgive me, I’ll try my best to catch up on things I’ve missed :) 

I’ll probably be MIA again, maybe longer than my first hiatus, but the good news is that OTLTA will be up soon. Just need to edit it, reply to your guys’ reviews, and do all that good writing stuff, y’know? :) But for now, I’ll be catching up on everything!

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Ninety-One [PT. 2]

Words: 2.5K

Warning(s): explicit language, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of domestic abuse

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"Your little one is here as of right now." Dr. Telille says, pointing to a very little area to the far side of my womb and I smile before she switches the focus slightly and then looks at the screen with a slightly odd look before flipping through my chart. "At your previous Obstetrician, did they mention any abnormalities?" She asks me. 

"No." I shake my head. 

"You said in your history you've had recurrent miscarriages?" She asks next. 

"Yes." 

"Okay, Mrs. Sixx, don't be alarmed by this because there is a solution but this," she turns the screen to me again, pointing at a shadow in the picture that looks like it's creating bunny ears or something. "Is a layer of tissue that's not supposed to be there. It halts fetal growth, and ultimately causes miscarriages, often times even before a fetus is interacting with the tissue itself, physically." She informs me and I feel like my chest is throbbing from how hard my heart is beating. "The good news is that we can fix this, I've had to do a few surgeries like this before--we can go in and cut that tissue out without disturbing your baby, but we will need to have it done within the next week--two weeks at the most." She explains and I raise my brows. 

"What's my chance of carrying out my pregnancy to term without the surgery?" I ask, trying to stay calm. 

"With a successful surgery, there is a 80% chance of you carrying it to term, and a higher chance at not facing as many pregnancy difficulties in the future like you've had previously. Without the surgery, with your history, it's very, very probable that you won't get to four months without miscarrying--if that far." She adds. 

"What's the risk of this surgery causing complications?" I ask next. 

"30%." She replies and I breathe out. "You don't have to make a decision today, you can go home and think about it and talk about it with the father but we need to get it scheduled in the next few days." 

"Um, o-okay…" I rub my lips together. 

"And if you are interested in the surgery, we can go ahead and send it in and see if insurance will cover it." She assures me. 

"I don't have maternity insurance right now." I tell her and she looks at me uneasily. 

"No worries, we can figure the costs out after you decide if you want it or not." She tells me, calmly, and I just nod. 

I numbed myself. I would've been freaking out, having a meltdown, begging God to spare my damn baby for once...but as soon as she started in on what was wrong with me, the negative outcomes...I flicked the switch in my brain and just let myself feel absolutely nothing as best as I could. My nervousness was relief compared to blatant breakdown mode that I knew would hit inevitably.

And how the hell did I tell Duff and Nikki that I was going to need surgery that could potentially terminate my pregnancy--or suffer what I'd suffered before and still lose a baby? Oh, right. I didn't. At least, not as soon as I probably should have.

When I get to my new little house I'm renting with my savings, Duff's sitting on the little porch, drinking a beer. 

"How'd it go?" He asks me, standing up as I unlock the door. 

He couldn't go with me this time because he had to go look at a couple houses with Mandy, which I understand because they had already canceled once with a real-estate agent and would get charged extra if they missed another appointment. 

"Good." I lie, clearing my throat. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." 

Whisky's barking at us until he realizes it's me, and then he won't get out from under my feet until I pat him on the head. 

"I need to finish unpacking." I say before Duff can ask anymore questions. 

"Well, it's your lucky day because I know how to unpack." He states, grinning. 

I go change into pajamas and when I get back, he's pulling pictures from one of the boxes, neatly placing them on the coffee table in the living room and I pick them up and start figuring out where to put them. 

"So, my family really wants me to bring you up." He says, optimistically. "I was thinking leave Sunday and come back next Saturday."

"...Duff, I can't just up and leave right now. I have to finish unpacking, and I'm gonna be meeting with Nikki once a week and then him and the guys once a week so that's two different…" I trail off as he cuts open another one of my packed boxes with his pocket knife, a look of disappointment on his face. "...It's not that I don't want to, you know. I just have a lot going on right now." 

"We'd just be gone for a week." He says, looking at me. "It's the only time off I have for a while since we're doing a few shows in New York and Europe." He adds. "And I really want my family to know you, kinda, before you have the baby." 

"I don't know." I hesitantly tell him and he licks his lips. "I don't know, Duff, okay? I just...ughhh." I groan, raking my hands through my hair. 

"If you don't want to meet my family then don't worry about it, Vivian." He says it a little passive aggressively and I raise my brows. 

"'Vivian'? Since when the hell am I 'Vivian'?" I ask, mimicking his tone. 

"That's your name isn't it?" He asks next and I cross my arms.

"You usually call me 'Viv', or...something…"

"Well, I'm not calling you, 'babe,' or, 'baby,' since we aren't dating anymore so…"

"You're being a dick." 

"I'm not being a dick. I'm just family oriented and I want my family to know you and our kid and you're making up excuses to not go and meet them."

"Excuse me for not wanting to be judged." I snap back. 

"They're not fucking judgemental." 

"Oh, so you're cussing at me now, too, huh?" 

"Quit trying to start an argument." He tells me. 

"I'm not starting an argument, I'm making a valid point." 

"You're making an assumption." He corrects me. "My family isn't judgemental. They're really not. I don't even think they're worried with the fact that you were married when we got together because they haven't said a word about it. They just want to meet you." 

"Matt didn't seem so cool about it." I mumble. 

"Matt was trying to keep both of us out of trouble." He explains. "He wasn't judging you. He just doesn't like drama and if we would've gotten caught he knew it'd just be a bunch of bullshit we'd have to get thrown at us." 

I just stare at him. 

"And I'm sorry for cussing at you, but I'm trying to be positive about all of this and I really don't want you to start bringing in your negativity." He exhales. 

"My negativity?" I raise my brows, laughing humorlessly. 

"Please, just come to Seattle with me next Sunday. I promise it'll be fun and my family's fun, they don't mean any harm by wanting you to come up and visit--they're already talking about planning a trip when it's born to be here for you and me both for a few days." He adds. 

I think about it, seeing his eyes glint a little as he slowly smiles at me like a hopeful puppy. 

"Okay." I relent and he puts his hands above his head, folding them together, letting out a loud, "Hallelujah!" and I roll my eyes, trying to hold back a chuckle. 

The truth is, I don't want to leave Nikki stewing that long after revealing to him my miscarriages. He never came back when he left the therapy session yesterday, and I was supposed to go back today but decided I needed another day to just think about everything, but because of Amber's schedule, we won't be able to get back in the same room together--aside from me just visiting him--until next Wednesday...but with Duff wanting to leave Sunday and come back that Saturday, I won't be able to meet then, either. A part of me isn't even sorry that I won't make it since the morale of Nikki's story is that he married a maestro of manipulation that can play victim like no other but is really an evil bitch who loves to make people suffer. 

I gathered that after reading: 

"I married a fucking demon."

"Vivian climbed from hell just to neuter me." 

"My wife's a fucking lunatic." 

"I sometimes think Vivian's waiting for me to die so she can get the money." 

"I hate her." 

"I don't know what's killing me faster: my looney wife, or smack. Doesn't matter--they're both my drug of choice." 

"If she didn't know how to fuck I would've already left her." 

"She flushed every bit of what Jason dropped off last night. Cost me a couple grand. I'm so pissed, if I knew she wouldn't beat the shit out of me and go batshit-ballistic, I'd lay her out on the fucking floor. I'm sure it'd be like foreplay in her sick mind, anyway." 

"I swear she cums every time she belittles me." 

And, my personal favorite: 

"Just woke up from a fucking nightmare. I was fucking around with Vivian and Vanity and once they got their satisfaction they started eating me alive while talking about their love for God. Even with them gnawing on me alive with their shark-like teeth and their completely black eyes, stripping flesh from my bone and going at it like a fucking pork chop, I was turned on. But as soon as they started about God, how good and wonderful he was, that's when I started panicking a little that I OD'd without realizing it and was in hell or some fucking incarnation of it. I see now that's how they both got me, being hot and knowing exactly what to do to get me going. And now they're both sucking the life out of me, eating me alive, while praying to their God and acting like they're blameless in my destruction. CHICKS = TROUBLE." 

At least we both agree that we married demons.

It was strange for me to realize how he saw me--well, how Sikki saw me. Once I was able to differentiate between the two of them, it hurt less reading what he'd write about me. It was just confusing. 

One page would be an entire rant (with unflattering, random song lyrics to match) about something I did that pissed him off--sometimes things I wouldn't even realize I did to make him upset and then the next page would be decently positive things about me that he'd profess after waking up sort of sober…

I knew he felt guilty about how he treated me, most of the entries from the end of '83 to '87 had "I'm an asshole" or "I really fucked up" or some version of it in them but the deeper into '87 he got, the less and less apologetic he got. Both in real time and his dairies. 

Despite the black and white of his diaries, one thing still lingered in the grey area…

I stare at the little TV on my dresser, bowl of captain crunch in hand as I stuff my face while flipping channels, Whisky gnawing on his chew toy as a flickering, fuzzy and static blaring familiar face flashes across the screen as I turn to the next channel. My heart stops for a moment, my finger immediately going back, the screen and audio clearing as I see her. 

Clear eyed and competent. A far removal from what I last saw of her with her gnashing teeth and tortured eyes, spewing at Nikki and I both before he and her got into a fight that left her dragged down the stairs of our old house...guilt tugs at me, remembering the look on her face, the pain, the hurt...perhaps she felt as bad as I did about the situation. 

He was the one telling her he was going to leave me and marry her, after all. My feury swallowed him before it ever thought about swallowing her. 

"...I'm currently looking at other scripts for other films." She replies very calm and composed to whatever question her interviewer was asking...I'm assuming this is part of her press run for her new movie coming out. 

"If you could write a ticket for yourself, Vanity, what would it be?" The woman asks next and she furrows her brows, slightly. 

"Write a ticket? To go somewhere?" 

"No, write a ticket for the rest of your life, and your career. Just everything about your life." She explains. 

"Ohhh," She thinks a moment before shaking her head slightly. "I wouldn't want to do that, actually, because, um, everytime I turn around something new's happening. I'm a very spontaneous person. I just like to get up and go, and I've been doing that since I was fifteen...so, um, I couldn't say I'd like to write that ticket." She chuckles a little, but not the crack-cackle I was used to seeing in her past interviews. 

She's actually sober here. 

"I just wanna go wherever life takes me." She continues. 

"What you're saying then, is, you couldn't write a ticket because what you would write wouldn't be as good as what could happen?" 

"No, I don't--"

"--No?"

"No, I don't think that, I'm not saying that at all. I feel that I have certain goals in my life. Very big, big, dreams that I set for myself. But I wouldn't wanna, um, question God's way about where he's going with me." She states. "That's just...not me." 

"If you could go back and change anything--"

"--Nothing." Vanity says, biting her lip nervously, shaking her head. 

"Any of the decisions?"

"Nothing." 

"Wouldn't change a thing?" 

"Nothing." She buckles down on it and I feel my eyes gloss over. "Wouldn't change a thing…" she trails off, thinking for a second. "...Can't say that I would." She adds, softly. "Because each time that I've done something, whether it be a mistake in my life, it's always...what you might call a mistake in my life is never a mistake to me. It was a definite meant to be and it was a definite learning process. So all the pain and all the glory...I wouldn't change a thing."

She's so unapologetically sincere. 

I cut the TV off as they start closing out the interview, and toss the remote across the room, losing my appetite and putting my bowl on my nightstand before I allow myself to replay what she just said. 

And I cry, not because she was in a relationship with him, not because she tried to steal him from me...I cry because I regret everything. I regret marrying Nikki. I regret meeting Duff. I regret getting pegnant. 

I'm not angry at her.

I envy her.

[rainbow-fairylandsystem]

man, what a fucking week, and its only wednesday.

to start it all off, my wonderful brain rewarded me with a new traumatic memory while my therapist is out on a personal emergency for an undeterminable amount of time. that memory triggered an uptick in my low back pain, which is the pain that really affects my ability to sit/stand/walk, but i can’t afford to take any more days off of either of my jobs.

my dad and mom are both pushing me to get a 3rd job (4th job if you count my freelance commissions as a job), which i have neither the time or physical/mental capacity for. they’re both telling me that i need to ‘move forward in my career’, despite the fact that i only graduated college 6 months ago, and just got teacher of the month at my studio job.

they also want me to spend less money, which is impossible considering that 2/3 of my money goes to house bills and medical expenses, because being disabled is fucking expensive. the rest of it goes to groceries, public transportation, and a swim club membership (which they told me to get so i would start exercising). i never spend money on things i want, unless i’m feeling devious and spend $40 on a trip to goodwill maybe once a month.

my mom also needs a hip replacement and is starting to really lose her memory, and she wants me to move back home with her, despite the fact that i’ve really carved out a life for myself in seattle. my father, as always, barely acknowledges my existence unless he i’ve done something wrong or he’s making fun of me.

our landlords are being fucking difficult about a tree in our yard that is fully dying and infested with beetles (part of it fell and already punched a hole in our deck). they’re trying to get us to pay $2800 to remove it, despite the fact that it was here well before we moved in, and we’re renters, so its not even our property. the guy they hired to remove it says that it poses a major safety concern to our house and all the houses around us, but our landlords are STILL being difficult.

i have a breast reduction surgery coming up in early january to try and relieve some of my daily pain, and our insurance is covering a sum total of $0. my parents are paying $12,600 out of pocket to have it done, which just adds to the amount of dollars that my dad gets to hold over my head when we argue.

one of my roommates is in a relationship with a boy i really hate, but that isn’t new. this roommate is one of my best friends but refuses to take care of their own health and keeps dating boys that treat them like shit. i can’t even find it in myself to be mad about it anymore, i just want to move out and not have to watch it happen. i’m starting to reach my limit as a friend

and to top it all off, i have NO IDEA where i’m going to find the money to buy my family christmas presents this year. i’ll probably have to take it out of my savings, which is supposed to be reserved for grad school (which i probably will never end up going to anyway).

anyway. drop me a like if you made it this far, i don’t think anyone even checks my blogs anymore. it’s probably better that way.

[loudsuitlover]

Doctor Harry XIV. Salir.

A/N: I personally love this. I hope you enjoy it too! :) 

***Preview: 

It's funny to me that she thinks my infatuation with her is about her neckline. I mean, sure, it got me breathless when I saw her tonight because she doesn’t usually dress like this and man, she looks like some sort of sex goddess; but it’s just so much more than that. It’s the way she walks, the way she bites her bottom lip, the way she calls me off…

After she unbuttons my shirt, her warm hands caress my exposed chest and she takes my shirt down my arms until it joins my jacket. Her eyes roam my chest before she smiles and takes the air out of my lungs.

“Naked Harry is my favourite Harry, you know?”

Fuck... She’s so naughty tonight. I feel her nails sinking down the skin of my shoulders before she scratches my chest and watches the pink mark she’s leaving with lustful eyes.

“Next time, don’t take so long before you kiss me.”

She pouts and it seems to have a direct line with my cock, especially when her plump bottom lip sticks out. I want to bite it and suck it into my mouth and lick it until we’re both out of breath. This girl is going to drive me crazy. I don’t know what she wants from me.

INDIE’S POV

Antonio Vega floods my room as I stare mindlessly at the notes professor Gibbins sent me. Not only did he send me the notes from the seminar I missed on Monday, he’s also sent me the notes for the rest of the week. He always sends us the notes but since he does that before lectures, we still have to add the stuff we discuss in class but I can tell he rewrote these notes after the lectures because I can read question: and answer: and it just fills my heart to imagine him writing those down for me. He must be such an incredible friend because he’s kind to everybody, I can only imagine how great he must treat his friends.

And talking about friends… I haven’t yet seen Jason or Ollie. Marie came over for lunch yesterday again but this time it was on me. I am a lot better now, I’d say I’m okay now, I just haven’t been going to the lectures because my teachers are doctors and the lectures hall is right after the hospital. It’s dangerous to go near a hospital with the flu. Some people there just can’t dare to get it.

But I know nothing from Ollie or J either. Olivia just doesn’t participate on the group chat and when Jason does it’s never to say something about himself. I hope he’s talking to the girls at least or that he just doesn’t have much to tell. Considering his situation, that’s a good thing.

I miss them though. I miss the Golden Girls and I miss going out with them and having a drink and trying to find a guy for Marie. I don’t know how long for I’m going to stand not talking to Ollie. I don’t know how she does it. I really miss her.

Harry: What are you doing tonight?

I try to get back to my surgery notes and ignore Harry’s text. I don’t know what I’m doing tonight but I don’t know if I want to see him. Okay, I’m lying, I seem to always want to see him but I don’t know if that’s what’s best for me.

Wednesday was the strangest day of my life. I woke up before he did for once and I let him sleep in. After what had happened in the am, and him almost crying and me not knowing how to comfort him, I thought he needed that sleep yet those hours of alone time and silence did no good to my racing thoughts.

I felt terrible. I still remember that feeling on the pit of my stomach that went up all the way to my throat. I felt terrible for him and I felt terrible for Dylan, I felt terribly guilty for both of them.

I don’t know why I want to know what was Harry’s turning point so bad. I’ve never been a nosy person, but maybe even that he’s rubbing off on me; and the uncertainty is curiosity’s best friend so I set my imagination free.

He can’t have lost the love of his life too. That would be too much of a coincidence but somehow, and in a fucked-up way, that would settle me down. If he was doing the same thing I am doing, I wouldn���t feel so guilty. He would have his own Dylan and I would be his Harry and that would make things better but that’s just a selfish thought and anyway the likelihood that that’s what’s wrong with him is so small it’s not even worth considering it.

Then I consider drugs. He does take diazepam in order to sleep and even though that’s not necessarily doing drugs, I read somewhere that anaesthetists are the kind of doctors who more often did drugs because of the easy access. What if he started taking amphetamines so as to study, that would partially explain his brilliance, and then he just couldn’t get out of it? He’s under so much pressure too and pressure and stress and not wanting to disappoint anyone are the perfect storm for an addiction like that.

I really hope that’s not the case. I don’t think I can go through that again but I’d feel terrible leaving him alone to deal with that if I found out that’s the case. I mean Harry is not my responsibility, his life is none of my business and I don’t have nor need to help him. Plus I wouldn’t even know how, I’m not a therapist. But I’ve been through this once already and if I couldn’t help Dylan, why would I be able to help him?

I wonder if I could ever share that with him. I’ve never shared that with anyone. Not even with Jason or Coco but they know because they’ve lived it too. Not like me but they saw it. I hate that he triggers me so much. I’m fine when I don’t think about, I’m fine when I don’t think about it.

“Blue…”

I turn around from my chair and face my begging sister. I know that tone, she’s going to ask for something. I give her a knowing look and she bites her bottom lip.

“What are you doing tonight?”

I think about Harry’s text.

“Nothing.” I shrug. “Catching up on studying I guess.”

She walks slowly and somehow dramatically inside my room until she takes a seat on my bed. She’s wearing party clothes, a black mini skirt and a white silk blouse crossed at the front. I frown. I don’t know where this is going.

“It’s Elvis Buchanan’s birthday party tonight-”

“Oh no, no, no, no.” I don’t let her finish.

Those parties are just a combination of everything I hate. It’s just rich guys trying to prove to rich girls they’re as rich as their daddies and then someone showing you their fancy car and offering to take you home just so they can make out with you and then tell the rest of them. No, no, no, there’s no way I’m going to one of those.

When I was sixteen, that was all I did. Going to stupid parties with stupid people and buying stupid ridiculously expensive dresses and just try not to be left out because that’s what always happens, that’s all they know how to do, making you feel bad. But I’ve come a long way from there and I am not about to go back there.

“Please!” Coco pouts. “Chicco’s gonna be there.”

“Chicco’s a complete ass.”

“He’s not! Please, please, please.”

She’s giving me puppy eyes. I’m so sorry for her. Her friend Amanda left to Paris when they started uni and she was the only decent person in that circle so now Coco’s all alone with all those bitches. I wish she’d just ignore them like Rio and I do, but she’s just more fit for that high society than my brother and I ever were.

Harry: Do you have plans?

“Coco, those people-”

“I know, I know what you’re going to say but not all of us are as lucky as you and have friend as great as yours.” She sighs and looks away from me but I can still see her pout.

Oh, Coco, if you knew I’m not so sure I even have friends anymore.

“Chicco’s gonna be there and the rest of girls too… Daniela too… If I don’t go then they might get their way with him. I almost have him, Blue! He was here the other night! And had sushi with me! And he doesn’t like sushi!”

That makes me chuckle. Gosh, I don’t know what to do. I think leaving the house might do me good and I actually feel like going out but I want to go out with my real friends not with these rich kids. I bite my bottom lip.

Harry: Hey, rich girl

Harry: Don’t play hard to get

Harry: Tell me

Harry: Am I worth your precious time or not?

He has to be kidding me. I hate it when people call me that. It’s not my fault my family is wealthy but I’m not just that. I don’t want to be any of that.

Harry: You’re so boring, Indie…

“The girls said someone from your hospital was invited too. Guido Matteoti’s older brother…” Coco adds. “I think his name is Marco. They’re obviously Italian.”

“Mario.” I look up from my phone to her and her eyebrows raise on her forehead.

“Mario, yeah, that’s the one. Do you know him? He’s hot, they say.”

“He went out with Olivia a few times.” I tell her.

“He did?” Her eyes widen in bliss. “Maybe Ollie’s coming then! Did you text her?”

I shake my head. I haven’t texted her since last Saturday but I don’t think she’s going to be there. But maybe she is? She could have been invited anyway. Ollie moves in that high-class circle too… And she bought a Stella McCartney dress a couple days ago… And I want to see her.

“Alright, I’m going but-”

Coco doesn’t let me finish my conditions as she wraps her thin arms around me and squeezes me.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re leaving if they start talking about cars to you or if someone orders a Dom Perignon special edition.”

I chuckle.

“I’m going to have a look through your closet. Don’t really like this shirt, it makes my legs look like two loose pieces of thread.”

I throw my head back and laugh. My clothes are oversized for her but if she likes anything she can take it. I text Harry back before I start getting ready myself.

Indie: I already have plans.

Indie: Sorry.

He’s online but he’s not answering. He types, he deletes it, he types, he deletes it. Honestly I don’t know what he was expecting. He really does think I’m going to drop everything for him whenever he wants me to. I’m not a toy.

I decide on a bodycon dress I’ve already worn hundreds of times before. It’s elegant and for some reason I feel comfortable with it even if it’s far more revealing that the clothes I normally wear. The neckline is low cut for starters but I like it, it flatters my chest. It’s got a tight champagne-grey lining embellished with a geometrical pattern of silver sequins and pearls. I combine it with champagne heels and a champagne clutch bag and leave my wavy hair down.

“Wow” Coco gapes at me and I give her a smile.

“Do you like it?”

“You do know you look like a goddess right? Man, I wish I had your curves.”

“I wish I had your legs.”

“You mean these needles?” She pouts.

I stare at her. She looks so gorgeous and so elegant on that dress. In the end she chose a bodycon dress with a low v neckline with a pattern of horizontal stripes with fringes, and sequins and pearls. The colours remind me of those of a majestic peacock with back and turquoise and indigo blue. The dress flatters her to perfection and her long, straight dark hair falls on her back making her look like some sort of aboriginal princess.

“You look incredible, Coco.”

“Your boobs look huge too!” She compliments? I guess.

I laugh and push her away from my room and towards the door. We’re taking a cab to the party and the taxi driver is already waiting outside.

Elvis Buchanan’s house is ridiculously huge. The kind of huge that could only be explained if you live together with another fourteen people. I don’t understand why anyone would need a house this big. It’s just plain silly.

Coco and I walk along the path that leads from the opened metal fence of the entrance to the house and I notice the tasteful tiny white stones that decorate the green grass. They look like hail.

A guy from the Buchanan’s service opens the door for us and I do a quick scan of the crowd hoping to find Olivia. It doesn’t matter how many people there are in a room, you can always spot Olivia. That’s how gorgeous she is. But I don’t see her.

Coco lets me know where Chicco is and to my surprise I see him talking to some other guys, not surrounded by slender rich girls like I had imagined him, so I take Coco’s coat and tell her I’ll leave it wherever it is we’re supposed to leave it for her. The longer I can be away from the party the better. I decide on asking the guy who opened the door for us where I should leave the coats but I get a call from a Marie.

“Hi, lovey.” I greet her.

“Hi, Indie-pixie, how are you?”

“I’m good, thank you, and you?”

I want to ask her about Olivia. Whether she knows if she’s going to be here or not. I also want to ask her why in the world she’s not at all angry after what she did to Mario. Especially considering how judgy Marie can be; her words, not mine.

“I’m good too. You didn’t check the group that’s why I’m calling. Listen, Jason invited us all to have dinner at his house and then we can go out for a drink or maybe go to 505.”

Us all? I frown.

“I’m not stepping a foot in that house.”

“Come on, Indie, David is not even going to be there.”

“Oh, is he on a satanic spiritual retreat?”

“Indie…”

I sigh.

“I already have plans, Marie.”

“Oh.” I can hear the surprise on her voice. “Are you with Harry?”

“No, I’m with Coco. I went with her to this birthday party. You know, family friends’ stuff.”

“Oh.” That surprises her even more. “But you hate those things.” She chuckles.

“Yeah, but Coco doesn’t.” Plus, I thought Olivia would be here but I guess she’s having dinner at Jason’s now. “Anyway, I gotta go. I need to find out where to keep our coats.”

“Okay, have fun, honey.”

“You too. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I keep my phone on my purse and ask the guy that opened the door for us. He says there’s a cloakroom service. My face must speak for me because he chuckles along before I shake my head and disappear down the hall.

There is a freaking cloakroom service! I can’t believe this. Luckily, there’s no one waiting so I’m going to participate in this pathetic situation as little as possible. The girl gives me a polite smile as I hand over our coats but she doesn’t even take them as another guy jumps in and hands in his.

“Keep this one, please.”

She goes attend him and completely ignores me.

“Hey! It’s my turn!”

“Miss” The girl from the cloakroom tries to stop me but when the guy faces me I just raise my eyebrows.

His dark brown eyes set on me and his frown relaxes into a smile. His hair is dark and up in a casual quiff and his skin is tanned. He’s got a beautiful smile but he was still rude.

“That’s okay, Elisabeth.” He tells the girls. “Keep her coat in and then you can keep this one.”

“Okay, sir.”

Sir? He’s like a boy!

“Just so you know, if I get in trouble for this, it’d be your fault.” He points a finger at me giving me another smile.

“What do I care?”

I tilt my neck and stare back at the girl and I see her eyes widening. My rude attitude is probably freaking her out. It’s not usual for girls from my status to talk like that, especially to someone they don’t even know, but who cares? This guy came in here thinking he owns the place and trying to jump the queue and now he thinks he can win me over with that white teeth smile. The girl hands me a red silk ribbon with a number on and I keep it on my purse. The brunette offers me his hand and I look at it and then at him.

“What’s your name, beautiful?”

“What’s yours?”

I see the girl opening her eyes even wider from the corner of my eyes. She reminds me of Marie, with her judgy faces and her polite words.

“Heard that, Elisabeth?” He’s still grinning at me. “You’d think your guests would know your name at your birthday party.”

Elvis Buchanan. I should have guessed. He did not walk in here as if he owned the place, he does own the place. Well, all the more reason to consider him rude, jumping the queue over your own guest.

“You came here with someone?” I nod at his question. “And your date didn’t even take care of your coat.” He purses his lips disapprovingly.

“I can take care of my own coat.”

He grins, he liked my answer. He amuses me so I give him a smile before I walk away. He reminds me of Harry.

“You didn’t tell me your name.” He calls me out.

“Indigo.” It’s his birthday after all and this is his house, I can’t be that rude. “Anderson.”

“You’re Coco’s sister?”

I nod and he nods slower, readjusting his black suit jacket before he walks past me.  

“I gotta go now but I hope we can talk some more later. Just walk straight up to me, yeah? I gotta feeling people won’t get off my back tonight, since it’s my birthday and all that shit.”

I smile and nod. It seems like I’m gonna like this guy after all. He’s at least interesting and that’s a lot more than I can say for the vast majority of them.

“Oh, miss, you’re lucky you’re pretty.” The girl from the cloakroom giggles. “I was honestly suffering for you. I thought he was going to kick you out.”

“Is he that bad?” I ask her.

“Aren’t they all?” She rolls her eyes.

I throw my head back and laugh and her eyes widen again when she realizes, after all, I am one of them.

“Sorry.”

I dismiss her and silently pray for her to keep her job. I bet it sucks though because I’m sure every guy tries to hit on her. She’s pretty too and rich guys have a tendency to think they can have anything they want, more so if the girl they’re hitting on is not high class. They’re trash but that we all know.

I make my way inside the insanely huge living room and have a look around to see if I can spot Coco. She’s laughing at Chicco’s terrible jokes. I can’t hear them but I bet they suck. I try to get away from the dance floor before one of those guy who are uninvitedly throwing dirty glances at me thinks it’s safe to approach me and instead I make my way towards the bar. I’ll get a drink before I have to dodge familiar faces in my search for Mario. I mean, Coco said he’ll be here and if I have to spend the night waiting for Chicco to actually kiss her, I might as well do it with someone I like. I didn’t know Mario moved in this circle either so finding out about it might be interesting.

My phone vibrates on my purse though so I get it out before I order. I frown when I see Jason’s name. I should pick up but I’m still hurt by what he said the other night to me and I don’t want to do this over the phone. If this is about me not going to his stupid dinner, he has to understand I won’t go to that house. I keep my phone on my purse. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. When the waitress looks at me, I open my mouth to order but she places a drink in front of me. I frown.

“Bulldog and Fever Tree Mediterranean, right?”

“Yes but how did you-”

She smiles and points at the other end of the bar and I can’t believe my eyes. Harry’s smile goes beyond his cheerful mesmerising green eyes and I could fall on my knees.

I grip my drink and don’t take my eyes off him- I couldn’t if I wanted to- as he makes his way towards me. Everything around him disappears to me for he drinks all of my attention. He’s without a doubt the most handsome, sexy and magnetic man in this room, and in every other. He looks so dreamy, like some sort of eye candy in a light pink shirt and a dark grey suit that makes him look like some sort of illusion.

I’m completely spellbound and it’s almost hard to stand on my feet. I feel my blood running fiercely through my veins and my heart beating wildly and I just saw him. This reaction is not normal and I know that, this has never happened to me, but I can’t control it.

From this distance, there’s nothing I don’t like about him. The way he looks, the way he walks, the way he smiles, the way he’s looking at me; even the way he lifts my chin with two fingers and closes my gaping mouth. How embarrassing.

“It’s a good thing I got you a drink, right? Bet your mouth is dry already.”

I roll my eyes. You see from this distance, I can hear him talk, so there are some things I don’t like about him. He chuckles though.

“So this was your plan” He guesses. I don’t answer but he keeps on with his monologue. “You must be at ease here, right? With all these posh rich kids…”

I don’t mean to but my face says what my words don’t because I feel my eyebrows cocking and he grins wider. He’s annoying me but for some reason he’s doing it on purpose.

“If that’s what you think then what are you doing here?”

“I was invited.” He shrugs.

“What an upgrade” I smile bitchily like these girls do “a nobody from Bellamond in a posh rich kids’ party…”

His jaw clenches. He only likes these games when he’s the one playing them. Well, I don’t like it when he calls me posh rich kid either so fuck him and his feelings. A tall brunette man swats Harry’s back before his brown eyes set on me. He roams my body up and down nastily and makes me uncomfortable.

“Styles, who’s this beauty here?” He grins at me.

“No one.”  

His words hurt me but I won’t show it. No one? Is that what I am to him? His friend laughs.

“I’m William Buchanan.”

Another Buchanan. Man, I’m gonna meet the whole family.

“She’s Barbie’s brunette’s friend and we were just leaving.” Harry answer for me and pushes me away but I pull away from his hold and give him a death glare.

“I’m Indigo.” I shake his hand.

“Wow” Willian Buchanan smiles “so your name is as pretty as your face.”

I want to roll my eyes so bad at him but I keep it together. Harry’s standing next to me and he’s nervous. I like it. I’ve never seen him act like this before and he was just a jerk so he deserves it.

“I’ve never seen you around here before, are you-”

“Hey” The little brother joins the party and Harry tenses up next to me. “Do you know my brother?” His brown eyes bore into mine and I think I can sense some warning.

I look at Harry but he’s looking away and then my eyes set back on the Buchanan brothers.

“No.” I frown.

“Better that way.”

“Elvis, what the hell?”

“Just go away, Will, please. Leave my guests alone.”

I stand flabbergasted at their interaction and Harry stands next to me tensed like a block of ice. Elvis waits for his brother to disappear before he gives me a gentle smile.

“I’m sorry about that, my brother is not a good guy.” He wrinkles his nose. “If I were you, I’d dodge him.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say about a sibling.”

He nods his head.

“Exactly, just imagine how terrible he must be for me to warn you. See you around?”

“See you around.”

Before he leaves, I stop him placing my hand on his bicep and he looks at my hand before he looks at me.

“Thank you.”

He gives me a smile before he finally walks away. When he does, I turn so I’m facing Harry and find him frowning.

“Do you know the Buchanans?” He asks me.

“No, do you?”

He shakes his head and surprises me as he places his hand gently on my waist.

“Would you like to go outside with me?”

I would love to but before I can answer, Mario, another two guys and two girls reach us. I greet Mario with a hug and he introduces me to his brother, Guido, and the two girls, Savannah and Anastasia. Harry’s let go from me and I don’t fail to notice the way Savannah looks at him and then at me. I almost smirk to myself.

It's clear she was hoping to sleep with him and I wonder if she would have gotten it if I wasn’t here. She’s breath-taking and I gotta the feeling that Harry’s rather easy, not just with me. I almost laugh when she tries to wrap a slim arm around Harry’s waist and he discreetly dodges her contact.

They invite me to sit with them. Apparently Harry was already with them before he went to the bar to get a drink and found me. I steal a look at Harry from the corner of my eye. I guess he was going to order water or some soft drink but I take it these people might not even know he doesn’t drink at all.

We sit down on some couches and this time Harry seems to wait for me to sit down and then he sits next to me. He rests his hands on the back of the couch behind me so even though he’s not touching me at all, it kind of looks as if we were together.

I learn Mario’s family owns hotels and he tells me how his brother and he have to endure these torturous fancy parties so their parents keep their contacts. I already liked Mario but after knowing he comes from the same circle I do and that he also doesn’t care about this, I like him even more.

Like last time I had a drink with him, we click and talk about anything and everything and it takes him almost an hour to ask me about Ollie.

“I just don’t know what to do.” He shrugs. “I thought we had fun and she told me she did and it sounded sincere to me but… Now she doesn’t pick up my calls and it takes her days to answer my texts…”

And you’re still trying? I suck my lips inside my mouth. I need to tell him. He’s such a good guy, he doesn’t deserve what Olivia’s doing to him.

“Listen, Olivia’s just… A free bird, you know?” But she’s my friend and friends’ have each other’s back. “She’s not the type of girl to settle down.” I shrug. “It’s not about you.”

“Oh.”

He gives me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. I think he had gotten there on his own.

“I’m just so inclined to fall in love, you know?” He chuckles. “It’s always the same story.”

His words surprise me. I thought girls were the ones inclined to fall in love and the fact that he’s saying that only makes me want to protect him more. He must sense the surprise on my face because he laughs.

“What? You weren’t expecting that?”

Harry straightens his back next to me and I wait for his smart comment.

“Guys fall in love too, you know, Indie?” There it is.

I give him a look and my eyes meet his amused ones. He’s clearly messing with me but I’d much rather have this Harry than the one calling me a posh rich kid. I roll my eyes at him and look back at Mario. He’s smiling.

“I just thought that was more typical of girls.”

“That’s incredibly sexist.” Harry complains and I swat his arm and he laughs along with Mario.

“I mean I’ve only had a girlfriend but it was the same with her really. It was like way faster for me than it was for her, you know? But still she got there.”

No, don’t keep your hopes up with Olivia! She’s gonna break your heart, Mario, she’s gonna break your heart. I try to push my thought away giving him a smile. I feel the alcohol on my system already and I notice I’m a little woozy because Harry’s scent and warmth is pulling me under his spell even more than usual. All of a sudden I want him to wrap his arm around my shoulders so this Savannah girl would stop stealing glances at him.

Coco waves her hand at me and gives me a cheerful smile before he has a look at Chicco and when she realizes he’s preoccupied ordering the drinks she gives me a thumbs up. I chuckle at her antics. I can tell she’s tipsy already. From the corner of my eye, I see Guido unconsciously smiling as his eyes fix on her.

I wonder if they’ve met. I don’t understand why Coco is so obsessed with Chicco when she could easily have a guy like Guido, sweet and polite and funny. And then I realize, I’ve actually been having fun in this stupid fancy party.

Turning my body on the couch, I face Harry and he gives me a confused look. He’s been so quiet, only adding hater comment every once in a while and he hasn’t even tried to touch me. I make sure he can see my exposed legs and chest and my belly tightens when his eyes drop to my breasts. I don’t normally like it when a guy stares at my chest, hence why I don’t normally wear low cut necklines, but for some reason it drives me wild that he does it. I guess, even after all the times he’s told me he thinks I’m beautiful and after having sex with him multiple times, it still thrills me that he actually does find me attractive. And he looks so good tonight… I bite my bottom lip. I want to have him so bad.

“Are you not having fun?” I ask him and tilt my chest in order to give him a full view.

His eyes drop to my breasts again. I love this.

“In this stupid party?” He frowns. “It’s not really my thing.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Well I got stood up this evening.”

His beautiful green eyes stare into mine firmly and his calm contrast my longing. I’m not sure he’s talking about me. My lips part as I bore my eyes into his, trying to read him. I hope he is talking about me because the thought that he might be talking about someone else, a real date he had tonight that stood him up, and that he only texted me after that left a sour feeling on the pit of my stomach that I don’t like. He seems to sense my discomfort and for the first time tonight he grants me his contact. His fingers caress my temple before he tacks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I’m happy you’re here.” He promises. “Even though I would never bring you here.”

Bring me here. When did he become mushy? I think about our date, our single date. After that, he got what he wanted and he has never asked to take me out ever since.

“Where would you take me?”

“My bed.” He smirks.

Of course. Where else? Sex is everything he wants from me. I feel suddenly embarrassed so I look away from him. I spot Coco on the dance floor and my desperation to feel Harry’s touch gets the better of me.

“Would you like to dance?” With me?

He just shakes his head but his green eyes don’t leave mine. I can’t believe I just had him on my mouth a couple days ago and now he doesn’t even want to dance with me. I wonder if he just wants to be left alone with endless-legs-Savannah. I don’t want to blush so I look away from him and back to the dance floor. There seems to be several people between Coco and Chicco so it might be safe to check on my sister. That way I can leave Harry and Miss Universe alone too. Before I stand up, I turn my body away from his and I think I feel his fingers skim my low back but I’m already standing.

“I don’t dance, baby.”

I shrug, feigning I don’t care.

“That’s fine.”

I hand him my purse and silently leave him as the guardian and make my way towards the dance floor without saying another word. I don’t even have to draw Coco’s attention because she turns around as if on cue and as soon as she sees me we both start dancing like nobody is watching. Dua Lipa’s Don’t Start Now fills our ears as we both let her voice move our bodies.

I think it’s the first time I actually have fun at one of these parties and it has nothing to do with Harry for he’s been off all night. It would have been a lot more fun if Ollie had been there too. Also if Jason and Marie were here dancing with us. Jason’s so funny when he dances to this song… I wonder if they’re having as much fun as I am. I hope so, even though it still makes me a little jealous. I wish things were different, I wish everything was normal between us, like it used to be… It hurts to be apart from them more than I let out.

When my eyes look back up, they meet Elvis’ amused ones. He grins at me and takes my smile as an invitation to come closer. Coco’s eyes and mouth widen right behind him as he stands in front of me and I try to ignore her as best as I can but I am feeling all giddy. I’m drunker than I thought.

“Damn.” He’s got a beautiful smile.

I roll my eyes but smile back.

“You’re a good dancer, Indigo.” He compliments. “Don’t stop because of me.”

Fearlessly I start swaying my hips and my chest again at Dua Lipa’s rhythm and see the way his eyes roam my body. I would much rather have Harry looking at me like that but after his rejection, Elvis’ attention is boosting my confidence. After all, he’s the birthday boy and very handsome, I take it half the girls here would want him to give them the attention he’s giving me. He tilts his neck as he watches me.

“But dance with me, birthday boy.”

He laughs but obliges and I try not to laugh. I don’t know why but most guys’ dance moves are funny to me. I mean when they try to act all manly and stuff, it’s just funny. I guess that part of me is happy Harry declined my dancing request.

“You can laugh.” Elvis tells me grinning. “I know I’m a funny dancer but that’s just ‘cause my body doesn’t stop me.”

He then starts doing the most weird dance move I’ve ever seen, acting like some sort of snake, and I throw my head back and laugh but he doesn’t seem to mind because he keeps it up, showing me some more ridiculous dance moves. I start imitating him and he laughs too and like that we start some sort of ridiculous dance competition.

“I take it this is your birthday gift.” He tells me.

My eyes widen. Oh, God, we didn’t bring a birthday gift. He laughs and points a finger at me. It’s the second time he’s pointed a finger at me tonight.

“I’m kidding, woman.” He laughs. “You should have seen your face!”

I swat his chest but he grips my wrist and turns me around so my back is against his front. We’re not touching and I appreciate his respect. The only man I want to touch me is sitting on the couch. Wait, no, he’s not. I panic and stop, looking for him around the huge living room. Again, another uncalled-for reaction but I’m getting used to them.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Elvis’ hand rests on my shoulder.

“Elvis” I need to stop him now before he gets his hopes up, I can’t go around criticizing Olivia and then acting like her. “You are really nice and really handsome but” the good thing is he’s smiling “I didn’t come here for you. As a matter of fact, I didn’t even know it was your birthday.”

He frowns but is still grinning so I take it he’s just confused.

“You’re with that guy who was with you earlier.”

“I mean” My head starts shaking uncontrollably “we’re not like together-together but, uh, I just don’t know where he is and… I’d like to go find him.” I smile at him, hoping that would excuse me.

He’s still grinning. I don’t get this guy. No one has ever taken a rejection so nicely.

“Okay, well, just to be clear, since you’re not together-together” he mimics me “I think you are really pretty and funny and I was hitting on you, I’m not gonna play it down. I appreciate that you told me that and” he offers me his hand and I shake it amused “it’s been a pleasure not flirting with you.” He grins. “Now-”

“Hey, Indie, what are you doing?” Harry cuts him off as rudely as he can go.

I almost feel embarrassed on his behalf but Elvis’ grin only widens. He offers him his hand for Harry to shake and he does just that. I don’t think I’ve ever been more uncomfortable than right now.

“This is him, right?”

Harry looks at me and then back at Elvis and I just look straight ahead. If I don’t make eye contact with any of them, they might think I’m not here.

“Sorry, man.” Harry’s words surprise me.

When I look at him, he’s tilting his neck and raising his eyebrows and his lips are pursed as if he was actually sorry for Elvis. Elvis, on the other hand, just looks amused like a little boy who heard a good joke. I wonder how old he’s turning. He looks way younger than Harry and even myself.

“It was nice meeting you, Indigo.” Elvis bows his head with a charming smile and then he just turns around and leaves.

I face Harry, ready to scold him for his childish possessive behaviour but he just hands me my purse and gets me confused.

“Here” he says “don’t leave me on charge of these things, I’m not used to it, almost forget it on the couch.”

I get the purse and don’t look at him. It bothers me that he’s been ignoring me, that he didn’t even want to dance with me, and when he sees me having fun with another guy he just appears claiming me like I was his pet and it bothers me even more because I know he sleeps with other girls but he doesn’t want me to do the same? Who the hell does he think he is?

“Are you okay?”

Well, no. I feel like some… convenient girl. I don’t want him to read me so I keep my eyes fixed to his expensive shoes.

“Why did you do that?”

I dare to look him in the eyes and the emotion in them takes me by surprise. Once again, I can’t read him. Warm hands cups my face until our lips touch. It’s timid at first and in that moment I don’t care who’s around, who could see, whether this is inappropriate or not. I embrace his closeness and let my lips move against his. He places one hand on my low back and closes the gap between us until there’s not enough space for air. It’s just clothes and longing as his tongue slides over mine in a delicious, slow caress. If he wasn’t holding my waist, I’m afraid my knees would have failed me and I’d be on the floor now.

“Why did it take you so long to even touch me?” I complain against his lips.

I feel him smile against my lips.

“I tried touching you before and you dodged me.”

“You didn’t want to dance with me.” I whine pulling away so I can look into his eyes.

“I didn’t want to dance.” He clarifies. “But you are driving me crazy with this fucking dress.”

He tacks a strand of hair behind my ear and pulls me into another kiss with his hand on my cheek. My hands find his hair too and I tangle my fingers and pull from some soft locks on the back of his neck. He’s disassembling me and I feel like I can’t trust my legs.

“Harry…” I all but gasp against his lips.

“No.”

I pull away and stare confused into his eyes.

“Call me like you do.”

“Love?”

“What?”

“Let’s get out of here.”

He nods before he pecks my lips again. I have one last look at Coco but the way people around us are looking at me intimidates me. Family friends look at me disapprovingly and I try to have their stares slip down my body but for some reason it affects me. I say my goodbye to Coco and after she reassures me that she’ll be fine, Harry and I make our way to the cloakroom.

As we wait for our coats, I can’t help my mind from entertaining the thoughts that those judgemental stares have put inside. I could easily think those girls were just jealous. After all, the most handsome man in the whole party was kissing me and not them and in front of everyone at that but deep down I know I feel embarrassed because I can’t help but feel somewhat dirty.

This is stupid, I thought I could easily do this but now I can’t push those thoughts away and it angers me because it’s sexist and I don’t want to be but- I wish my mind could just shut down.

“Baby,” Harry places his hand on my shoulder “it doesn’t matter what they think… You’re better than all of these people together.”

His words touch me. I bore my eyes into his green, sincere ones.

“Do you really think that?”

“Of course.”

His words calm me only partially because they also mean he also noticed the way those people stare at us so it’s not just in my head. I don’t know why this is affecting me like that.

“I’m…” He stutters as the cloakroom girl gives us our coats.

I told her to keep Coco’s and give her my sister’s full name and she nods. Harry already has his coat on and is frowning when I turn around. He waits for me to put on my coat with his hands on his pockets and then the two of us make our way outside in sudden silence. I’m about to ask him what’s wrong when he speaks.

“Do you regret it?”

He takes me off guard so I stop on my tracks.

“What?”

“Us.” His green eyes study me.

Do I? I guess part of me does. The part of me that doesn’t want to be seen as an easy girl, enchanted by an older guy’s charms, and the part of me who refused to have a pink stethoscope like the one my father got me because I thought it would only make it harder to be respected in the hospital. I know a woman shouldn’t be judged by those things but I also know we are and until that changes, we gotta do what we gotta do.

There’s another part of me that regrets the way I feel about him, the part of me that’s attached to Dylan beyond life and love themselves.

But the bigger part of me… I’m learning a lot from Harry. Not just about sex, but also about men and about me. I had never dreamt I could enjoy sex like I do with him or that I could feel the way I feel when he kisses me or when I touch him, even when I see him. I guess I just thought I was never going to feel that… Happy, again, after Dylan passed.

He makes me laugh too, even though he has a weird sense of humour, but I like that he shows me that part of him too. And he not only bears me but seems to enjoy my company, even seeks it; and that’s saying a lot, all things consider. I know I’m difficult. So I think… If I went back to that first dinner with him, knowing all I know now, I wouldn’t change it.

“No.”

He sighs and knowing he’s been holding his breath only makes me not-regret it more.

“It took you really long to answer.”

“It was a hard question.” I defend. “What about you? Do you regret it?”

“No.”

He doesn’t even think about it. We get on his car and he doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride. Neither do I. I don’t want to think about his question either, nor about his answer, but I wonder if it would have been different had he thought harder about it. I gave him a proper answer. It’s true it took me longer but that only means it’s true for I consider everything but he always seems to be this impulsive and I’m afraid that’s how he does everything, without thinking.

I need to push these thoughts away from my mind. He could have gone home with any other girl tonight and still he chose me and I could have gone home with Elvis Buchanan but… I didn’t want to. And that’s what scares me the most.

When we get to his apartment, he doesn’t push me against the door like he’s done other times and instead just waits for me to get inside before he locks the door after us. Maybe he’s doing all the thinking now, maybe he’s reconsidering everything and he’s about to tell me that he does regret it and that it’s best if we just stay friends. I place my coat on his dresses and only then I realize I’ve made it to his room. Where’s this familiarity coming from? Intruding into his room without his invitation… When I turn around to apologize for my intrusion, he pushes me into the wall and his hands grab the back of my thighs and squeeze my flesh. I moan at his contact.

“This fucking dress, baby…”

He pushes his hips against mine and I pathetically whine when I feel his arousal against my belly. I can’t believe just the sight of me got him this hard. I wish I knew what he’s been thinking and picturing in his mind.

“You are such a beautiful woman, Indie.” He presses his lips against mine almost violently and I suck his breath inside my mouth as his tongue licks my mouth. “When I saw you dancing with that guy, I thought maybe I wouldn’t be the one to have you and… I would have danced.”

“I want you so bad.”

I bring him closer to me pulling from the collar of lapels of his jacket and press our lips together hungrily and we both lap at each other’s mouth in a very heated, very passionate make out session that has me embarrassingly wet. I can’t wait for him to thrust inside me.

He seems to sense my desperation because in a second, he’s getting a condom out of his wallet and I surprise him by unbuttoning his suit pants. I hear him hiss as I pull his pants and his boxers down his thighs and then my hands slid across the soft fabric of his shirt and snake under the collar of his suit jacket, pulling it down his arms until it hits the floor. I bite his bottom lip and suck into my mouth and his groan makes my pussy throb.

His hand caresses my thigh up until he gets to the elastic of my pantyhose and pulls them down. We hear them rip in the process and he chuckles against my mouth as he apologizes but I can’t say anything because my breath gets caught on my throat when his fingers snake around the elastic of my underwear and he pulls them down my legs. I try to help him but loose my balance so I cling onto his arms whilst I pull them down my legs clumsily and he laughs. He kisses my neck and squeezes my hips with his hands before he lifts me up against the wall and my legs curl up around his waist.

When my head hits the wall, I pull from my dress to try to take it off or at least pull it down my breasts but Harry stops me.

“Leave it on” he breathes on my ear “I want to fuck you on this dress… It’s so sexy, baby… And you’re mine, fuck… I want to fuck you so bad… You’re so beautiful.”

Holding my weight with his hands on my hips, he lifts me higher and then sinks me down until he’s inside me. My back rests against the wall as Harry rises and lowers my body while he thrust his hips with more desperation and passion than ever.

“Are you” he gasps as his hips crashed me into the wall “do you like it like this?”

His words come out of his mouth in fits and starts while he fucks me and holds me tight so I don’t fall.

“Yes.” I moan, I love it when he fucks me against the wall.

This is so intense and the way he sounds and his firm grip on my body… I’m going to cum embarrassingly soon.

“Kiss me, baby.”

I love it when he asks me to kiss him. It makes me feel so powerful and wanted and I love that he loves kissing me as I do him. I lick his bottom lip slowly, I know it drives him crazy, and he parts his lips for me so I dive my tongue inside. I pull from his hair and try my best to kiss him whilst he pulls in and out of me faster and harder. He’s drilling me against the world fast but our kiss is slow and intimate and I bite on his lips whenever he hits the spot that has my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

“I don’t get tired of fucking you, Indie… Fuck… You feel so good.”

“Oh, God.”

I gasp and moan, I don’t know what else to do to let out some of the pression he’s building inside my belly that’s getting more and more intense with each thrust. He groans and his guttural, animalistic sounds are driving me wild. I scream and even hit my head against the wall. I’m going to come but I know he’s almost there too, I can feel how tense he is.

Like a firework, the electric current starts at my belly but spreads fast down my legs and arms and I fight for air as I feel a gush coming out of me. He curses under his breath and kisses me.

“Calm down, baby.”

I try to do as he tells me but I keep lowly moaning against his mouth as my walls clench frantically when he tenses up and burst inside the condom. He’s gasping and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so out of breath so he rests his forehead against mine and catches his breath before he rises me higher and rolls out of me, gently placing me on the floor.

I watch him rolling out the condom before he makes a knot and lets it fall to the floor. He’s such a pig sometimes. We then stare into each other’s eyes and he undoes me with his dimply smile. We’re still catching our breaths when we kiss, calming one another with sweet wet pampers.

“Seriously you look stunning tonight.” He compliments.

I chuckle.

“What a low cut neckline can do to you.”

HARRY’S POV

She chuckles staring straight into my eyes and I think my heart is going to burst out of my chest. How can she still look as pretty as she did when I first saw her tonight? I mean I don’t know a lot about makeup but I’ve noticed most girls after partying, drinking and dancing like she did tonight, not to mention fucking like I just fucked her, look like panda bears but Indie doesn’t. She still looks like a fucking goddess.

Her hazel eyes look into mine as her soft hands unbutton my shirt. She’s a little drunk, not too much so that she doesn’t know what she’s doing but drunk enough to have less inhibitions and I love that she’s acting this free and wild and fucking sexy around me. I’m the luckiest bastard in the world.

It's funny to me that she thinks my infatuation with her is about her neckline. I mean, sure, it got me breathless when I saw her tonight because she doesn’t usually dress like this and man, she looks like some sort of sex goddess; but it’s just so much more than that. It’s the way she walks, the way she bites her bottom lip, the way she calls me off…

After she unbuttons my shirt, her warm hands caress my exposed chest and she takes my shirt down my arms until it joins my jacket. Her eyes roam my chest before she smiles and takes the air out of my lungs.

“Naked Harry is my favourite Harry, you know?”

Fuck... She’s so naughty tonight. I feel her nails sinking down the skin of my shoulders before she scratches my chest and watches the pink mark she’s leaving with lustful eyes.

“Next time, don’t take so long before you kiss me.”

She pouts and it seems to have a direct line with my cock, especially when her plump bottom lip sticks out. I want to bite it and suck it into my mouth and lick it until we’re both out of breath. This girl is going to drive me crazy. I don’t know what she wants from me.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?”

Her hazel eyes widen and my cock twitches again. She looks so innocent and pure… But I know she’s a dirty girl… My dirty girl. She shrugs and looks down at my chest. Her fingertips caress the skin over my collarbone.

“I’m always afraid you’re gonna pull away.”

I frown at that. The gin she had tonight is taking away her filter and maybe I shouldn’t but I’m going to take advantage of it. It’s not every day she talks to me this clear.

“Hey” I lift her chin with my fingers and make her look at me “I love it when you kiss me, I won’t pull away.”

“Not even if we’re in public?”

“Baby, you’re the one who’s not into PDA.” I smile at her.

She’s just saying that because she’s drunk but I know she won’t think the same tomorrow when she’s sober.

“Okay” she smirks “and don’t claim me like I was your dog.”

Yeah, I know that was uncalled for. I don’t know what had gotten into me.

“You’re so bossy tonight.”

“Alcohol makes me fearless.” She smiles.

I feel her fingers sliding down my chest to my abs and lean down to kiss her again, holding her hands and bringing them back to my chest again. She challenges my attempt at keeping this a family show as her hands caress the end of my belly. She brings her mouth to my cheek but instead of giving me a kiss, her mouth moves to my ear.

“And horny.” She whispers.

Fucking hell. I groan when she squeezes me in her warm, soft hand and she presses a kiss on my jaw.

“Fuck me again, Harry.”

“So bossy…” I grin.

“It’s not always gonna be you in charge.” Her hand starts pumping me as the other one snakes around my neck and pulls my mouth to her perfect one. “At least let me do something for you.” She nibbles on my earlobe. She’s crazy if she thinks for one second I don’t want to fuck her again. “You’re dying for it, come on.”

Of course I am. I’m dying for her to touch me or kiss me or even just look at me all the time. I give in and kiss her hungrily. Sometimes I feel guilty for the things I wanna do to her and for the things I do to her but not these times. Right now I want to ruin her, fuck her so hard that her silhouette lingers on my bed when she’s gone.

She grabs my wrist and places my hand on her breast and it drives me crazy to know she wants me to touch her. She moans on my mouth when I squeeze her tit on my hand and makes my cock twitch. I’m crazy for her.

Without breaking the kiss, she turns around and starts walking backwards and I follow her suit like the sucker I am for her. When my bed hits the back of her knees, she pulls away from me and turns to the side, pulling the hem of her dress away from her skin under her armpit and unzipping it before she pulls the thin straps over her shoulders down her arms and gets naked in front of me.

I run her body with my eyes up and down and she smiles. She’s growing more confident on her own skin and I love it. I can tell she’s a lot more comfortable when she’s naked around me now. I don’t understand why she wouldn’t be. She’s perfect.

Her soft hand caress my chest as they make their way up and rest onto my shoulders as she pulls me closer to her and sits me down on the bed. She leans in and straddles me and her mouth licks and nibbles and sucks on my neck as she grinds her hips on mine, pressing her body against mine. Fuck…

I can feel how wet she is against my pubis and my dick is throbbing for her. I hold her hips and make a mental attempt to stop her movements but my muscles don’t do anything to stop her.

“Baby” I gasp “if you keep that up I’m gonna cum before we get started.”

Her lips leave my skin and I feel the air cooler when it hits the wet spot she was pampering. Her face is inches away from mine.

“And what do you want to do, love?”

Fuck, she’s driving me crazy. Usually it’s me asking her but I didn’t know it was going to be so sexy for her to do it. And when she calls me love… Something stirs inside me.

“Do you want to fuck or do you want me to suck-”

I cut her words short with a kiss. I want her, no, I need her. I push my tongue inside her mouth and taste the sour taste of the gin he had. It’s delicious combined with her otherwise sweet taste.

I try to lift her so I can grab a condom but her hips trap me under her as she kisses me harder. Shit.

“Condom” I manage to gasp against her lips “Need a condom, baby.”

She complains against my mouth and I feel her soft tongue shutting me up again. I grab her ass and the movement of her hips speed up. I can’t take it any longer so I just rise her up firmly and place her bottom on the bed and turn around to get a condom from the bedside table.

“I kind of wish we didn’t have to use them.”

My cock twitches as she whispers that behind me and I tilt my neck so my eyes set on her. She’s resting her weight on her elbows impatiently waiting for me. She looks away before she speaks next.

“But I don’t want you to give me an STD.”

I turn back around and get the condom before I start overthinking her words. I think if I had some blood reaching my brain I would read her confession differently but all I can think about is that he wants to have me bare just as much as I want to feel her without the barrier. It’s irrational because it’s not like the condom bothers me much but it’s just knowing we couldn’t get any closer then that’s driving me crazy for her.

I crawl up her body, spread her legs open with my knee and line myself up with her but she grips my biceps and stops me.

“No, I want to do it.”

Her hands push my chest away from her and they keep pushing until my back hits the mattress and she straddles me. She moans whilst she sinks down on me and the sound all but ties a knot on my heart. She circles her hips, rising and lowering them above me slowly, torturing me as I watch her and try my best not to cum yet. She’s overwhelming me, her scent, her sounds… And when she sinks her nails down my abs, I almost loose control. I hold her by her waist and turn us over, pinning her against the mattress and hovering over her.

“What-” She looks confused.

“I couldn’t take it anymore.”

I grunt when she grins.  

“I’m gonna go rough, baby.” I give her a sneak peak, thrusting inside her fast and hard so her body bounces on the bed and she gasps through her smile. She wants this too. “You can tell me to stop anytime.” I reassure her.

“Just fuck me hard, love, like you know I like it.”

I enter her fast and rough, pressing my weight on her and squeezing her flesh on my hungry hands. I love having her like this. She doesn’t know the struggle on not getting a hard on whenever she acts all innocent and shit around other people because I know how dirty she really is but that’s something only I know.

She sucks her lips inside her mouth as she moans and I know it’s her way of helping herself from screaming but I want to hear her. I slip my hand to the inner side of her thigh and pull her leg over my shoulder and we both moan at the new angle.

“Don’t shut your mouth, love.” I warn her. “I want to hear you.”

She obliges and lets a loud moan out and I could burst.

“It won’t…” She stutters. I love doing this to her. “I won’t…”

I chuckle at her fight for words and she grants me a delicious smile.

“It won’t just be you hearing me if I” I push inside her “Oh, Harry…”

“Let my neighbours know” I push inside her again and watch her breasts bounce “let them know what I’m doing to you.”

I lean in to kiss her neck but I can’t barely close my mouth around her skin without getting dizzy. It’s hard to breathe when she’s wrapped around me like this.

“God, Harry.” Her hand pulls from my hair and I grunt against her skin. “I’m so close, love, I’m gonna cum.”

She tenses up underneath me and her skin covers in goose bumps. Lifting her hips from the mattress, she presses them further against me as her walls clench so she’s impossibly tight. I hide my face on the crook of her neck as I fill the condom and my hips keep sloppily thrusting inside her accompanying us down our highs.

I rest my head against the hot skin of her flushed chest and feel her collarbone against my temple every time he breathes in. I hold her hips as I pull out and her throat complains at the emptiness.

INDIE’S POV

I don’t know when I fell asleep but when I wake up is still night-time. I’m alone in Harry’s room and the cold drops a heavy paralyzing blanket over my naked body. I rub my hands against my arms but they’re cold too so they do nothing to warm me up.

Wrapping Harry’s quilt around my body, I get out of his bed and walk towards his living room. I can’t help but wonder where he is at. I need heat, possibly his, but if not I’m gonna need the heaviest duvet he has. I’m not normally cold in his house but because he’s a human heater.

Harry’s sitting on one of the high stools in the kitchen and the light from his laptop screen hits his face and illuminates his frown.  He wears his cosy sweatpants I love so much and a long sleeves cotton t-shirt. I envy his warmth. It takes him almost a minute to notice my presence.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m cold.”

His green eyes set back on the screen of his laptop.

“There are blankets on the storage bed.”

If I was already cold, now I’m freezing. I feel like he just took my heart and squeezed it on his hand. How can he be so harsh? Especially after what we did before I fell asleep. I embrace myself and turn around before he can see the effect his cold attitude has in me.

It's like he knew everything I was thinking before we got here and then threw it at my face. Yes, I am a convenient girl for him; yes, I am the easy shag; yes, I am a canned vagina with legs to him. I almost want to call Ollie and tell her she’s right and call Jason and tell him it happened that he got tired of me and then call Marie and told her I should have listened from the beginning.

I realize everyone in my life has been trying to warn me and still here I find myself like some free prostitute he doesn’t even want to sleep with. I mean who works in the A.M on a saturday morning? Am I so terrible he doesn’t even want to lie down next to me?

I need to get out of here and go look for my dignity because I must have lost it somewhere on the way here. I don’t want to cry because of him and I won’t. As I look for my underwear, Harry walks in and holds my arm as he walks me to the bed. He gets us both under the covers and spoons me, intertwining his legs with mine and hugging me tight.

“What are you doing?”

“You said you were cold.”

“And you told me to get a blanket.”

I’m glad he can’t see my face but my voice is trembling and betraying me.

“I’m sorry, I’m a jerk.” Yes, he is. “But can I hold you?”

“Why?”

“Because I like it.”

He has to be kidding me. I don’t understand a thing. I’m not cold anymore, the mixture of the internal heat from the anger and the embarrassment and now his warm skin heats me up until I’m hot. The temperature changes as his mood.

I’m not one to ask many questions but I think his constant back and forth might drive me insane. I pull away from him and lie on my back. I don’t know where to look at.

“Baby-”

“Don’t call me that.” I cut him.

He wheezes and lies down on his belly but his eyes are set on me. This reminds me of when he cried a few nights ago and I feel my heart wrinkling again.

“Tell me how you feel.”

I finally tilt my neck so I can look him in the eyes. Either he’s kidding me or he’s bipolar, there’s no other option. Oh my God, he’s serious. Are we doing this? Talking about our feelings in the A.M.

“How do you think I feel?”

“You thought I was very cold, didn’t you?”

I nod ad look back at the ceiling. I don’t want to do this with him.

“And you didn’t like how that made you feel.” I don’t say anything. “Well, you’re an ice floe, Indie. Constantly.”

I turn on my side again and give him my back hoping he understands I don’t want to talk to him. I won’t cry. I’m an ice floe, after all.

I know that, it’s true. I know I’m cold and difficult and obnoxious but the fact that he out of all people said that feels like a slap on the face. I remember what I once promised and stay quiet. Quiet is better than mean.

Yet warmth fills my insides again when his chest presses against my back. He tucks me under the blanket better before his arm wraps around my waist and pulls me to him and one of his legs wrap over mine too. I feel his hot breath reaching my neck through the gaps between my locks of hair and my eyes finally closed. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to think about anything at all. He brings my body to his and I cover the arm that hugs my belly with mine and feel him finally relax behind me.

“I really am sorry.” He whispers.

I don’t let him know but I’m sorry too.

[csykora]

I'm so sorry, I feel like an idiot, but apparently I missed Brett Connolly? Or I can't recall who he is off the top of my head, which is shameful. Um, he won the cup with us, right? and I think maybe was friends with Beags? Something about Beags? idk im so sorry, I feel embarrassed about this but no embarrassment for being on 4th can of mt rush, hands shaky and thoughts are going so fast

Please take a gentle breath and look at these photos.

Brett Connolly played with the Capitals for three seasons and helped them win a Cup. He also one of my personal favorite humans in the NHL.

Brett Connolly was born 28 years ago in northern British Columbia, and almost immediately got injured.

When he was five, he tried to climb over one of those big metal vehicle gates to get to the lake to swim, and it crashed shut on his right hand.

“I remember that day,” Brett said. “I obviously squished my hand. It was pretty sore.”

“I’m glad there were good surgeons on Vancouver Island*, and they could repair my hand. It was a freak accident. Thankfully, I have a hand today….I was so young I didn’t really realize the seriousness of the whole thing. Looking back, obviously it could have hampered my career if I didn’t have my hand.”

He describes the surgery as “pretty long.” x

Those quotes might give you the impression that Brett Connolly doesn’t give a fuck about anything. That is not true. 

Brett Connolly loves 1) his wife 2) popped collars 3) Devante Smith-Pelly.

Conno played very well through most of juniors and played for Team Canada in World Juniors, where he won silver and also took a bad hit and injured his hip. He played just 16 games with his junior team in his draft year. He managed 10 goals and 19 points in those games, though, convincing Steve Yzerman to draft him 6th overall for the Tampa Bay Lightning.

Conno debuted with the Lightning, before Yzerman decided to send him down to get more minutes. He scored 31 goals in 71 games for the Syracuse Crunch his first year, and then got loaned back to Team Canada. The only other NHLer on that Junior team was fellow 19 year-old Devante Smith-Pelly, on loan from the Ducks.

Devante broke his foot their first game, so then he just had to hang out. Bonding happened.

Back on the Lightning, Conno got traded to the Bruins, and broke his hand.

BOSTON (CBS) — The newest Bruins winger just became the latest Bruins winger to suffer an injury.

Brett Connolly, acquired early Monday morning in a trade with Tampa Bay, was hit by a puck during Wednesday’s practice. The Bruins announced shortly after practice that Connolly will be out for six weeks with a displaced fracture of his right index finger.

Connolly had just skated in his second official practice with the Bruins, who sent two second-round picks to the Lightning to acquire him on Monday.

That six-week timetable could have Connolly ready to rejoin the lineup just before the regular season ends. 

x

Brett left the Bruins, and signed with the Washington Capitals. He hit 15 goals for the first time in the NHL. He liked it so much that the next summer, when Devante was facing free agency, Brett called and told him he would love it in Washington, too.

“I thought it was a good fit for him, and I think with the team and how everything is run here, it’s a good spot for guys to just be themselves, show their personalities in whatever way and just play and not really put too much pressure on anything,” Connolly told Japer’s Rink later. “It’s a good environment to get better and just play and have fun.”

“It’s funny how things work, I mean, that was a long time ago and now here we are,” Devante said. “Moved from Toronto together, started working out together and became good friends, great friends... it ends up being a small world but we’ve come very close.”

Partly through their wives’ friendship, Brett had gotten close with John Carlson, who would end up being a friend of Devante’s as well. Devante was already friends with Tom Wilson:

“I remember [he] used to watch my games, I think it’s funny to think of now; he’s a grown man, he’s a big boy now,” Devante said.

“[Wilson and Connolly] are two guys, if I need anything, to get anything off my chest and vice versa, we can go to each other. We can all be very honest with each other, always go to each other since we’re such good friends.”

That was the start of the 2017-18 season. Conno scored 15 goals again in the regular season and bumped up the assists. Devante scored a chill seven goals in 24 playoff games.

Twice in the first round, twice in the Eastern Conference final, then in the Game 3 3-1 victory over the Vegas Golden Knights and in the Game 4’s 6-2 blowout, then when the Caps were down a goal halfway through the third period of Game 5, he scored the tying goal on an assist from Brooks Orpik of all people**.

(Brett, the slacker, only scored 6 playoff goals.)

"He’s probably the reason why I have a ring,” Conno said last summer.  “There’s no question, with that goal he scored in Game 5, and all the goals he scored all the way through. That’s something that’ll never be taken away from him."

Another thing we will all always have is this photo of Brett Connolly eating pizza and getting a bicep tattoo (which Devante then paid for a Caps fan to have tattooed on his bicep.

When Devante announced he would not visit the White House because of the president’s “racist and sexist” statements, Conno said he would support him, adding, “It’s not about ‘politics’. It’s about right and wrong.” After discussing with the rest of the team, the two of them both stayed home.

On his Cup day, Conno took it to the retirement home where his mother works, then to meet youth players and then a photo session with thousands of fans in BC, where he raffled jerseys and other Caps items to raise money for the Brock Hirsche Memorial Scholarship Fund at the University of Lethbridge. Hirsche was a friend and teammate who had recently passed away from cancer.

Conno went on to score 22 goals the next season, and doubled his assists for almost 50 points. When Tom Wilson got suspended, Conno got his first line spot. Which is why the Florida Panthers now pay him way more money than we did (he was already sitting at 19 goals in 69 games for them when the season ended). Devante has left us for the KHL, but Conno believes he’ll be back.

"Whoever does end up signing him, they’re going to get the best Devante Smith-Pelly that Washington got a couple years back….There’s a team that’s going to get a really good player."

In conclusion, love and decency are good for your skin. So is sleep. 

*Vancouver is about 9 hours drive away: presumably he was sent by air. I.e., it was a pretty bad squish.

**if anyone has forgotten Brooks Orpik, please @ me

[docholligay]

The Long Black Road

I FINISHED SOMETHING EVERYONE CONGRATULATE ME. This was @yamadara87 prompt, “MA after Haruka dies” takes place in the MaS AU. 

The shop was quiet for a Wednesday afternoon. It could have been owing to the cold as much as anything, and the fact that with so many holidays having recently been laid to rest, women were not nearly so fussy about having the latest style. It was always a slow period of the year, one where Takuya and MA generally set about to improving parts of the shop, thinking about the coming year, and running the books. 

But Takuya was alone in the small but exclusive shop today, and had been for the last few weeks. He’d just finished with a client determined to keep her hair black despite her age, washing up in the back corner, when he heard the door open, the high bells chiming across the pristine shop. He knew damn well he didn’t have an appointment lined up, and their shop was the sort of place that only did a walk-in if your cash and your pedigree matched up. 

He’d even sent their receptionist home for the day. 

“Welcome!” He beamed brightly as he walked out the back, setting aside the actual thoughts in his head for something much more encouraging. 

“It’s just me.” M.A. stopped at the front desk and looked over her appointment book, whipping through the pages until she came to the clean emptiness of the current week. “When Masami comes in tomorrow, let her know I’m taking appointments. Make sure she calls Ms. Sato, I’m sure she’s having a heart attack right about now.” 

“I--” Takuya leaned against the wall near the back of the shop, “Wasn’t expecting to see you. For awhile.” 

MA looked up at him and grinned, tossing the curly hair back from her face. On anyone else it might have looked careless, but it was in these moments that Takuya was reminded that MA was a Kaioh by bloodline and inclination, and had her mother’s way of making something look intentional and stylish. 

“Get used to having the place to yourself, huh?” 

“No,” he shook his head, straightening up off the wall, “I missed having you. But, M.A….” 

“Pop died this morning, to answer your question,” she punctuated the thought by dropping the pen into the cup, “so I’m back.” 

Takuya nearly sighed, but then thought better of it. Since they’d met in school, he’d always been taken with MA’s blend of brashness and breeding, the way she could play at either without skipping a beat, her intense refusal to allow anything to push her off the balance beam of her own life. She was stubborn and strong and all the things Takuya wanted for himself, and had cultivated a bit of, in his adult life. 

But things are never simple, Takuya had learned as life went on, and strength can be an anchor, and an anchor can do many things at once, while never changing shape. MA was not weak, because she never let herself be weak. She never gave herself permission to be weak. 

He doubted he could give her that permission either, but at the very least, he could try. 

“You don’t have to be here.” 

MA scoffed and shook her head. “What else is there to do?” 

She looked at him when he said it, a mild look of amusement on her face. She wanted him to have an answer. MA would have loved for Takuya to know what a human being was supposed to do, after a mother dies. He would have loved to have an answer, as well, and, tugging at his sleeve, realize he should have known the question would come long before it did. 

MA didn’t give him a chance to come up with anything before she parried each blow. 

“Funeral home got her body,” she closed the schedule book, “Pop planned most of her own funeral,” she took mail from the desk and shoved an envelope in the correct slot, “wrote the eulogy,” another envelope, in the garbage this time,” So, what is there to do? Other than sit around and cry about something we’ve known is coming for months. Kimi has that down, I don’t think the family needs me for that.”

Takuya came over and sat at the desk, looking up at her. 

“What about your kids?” 

She stopped for a moment, mail still in hand, and looked past the desk and out the front window. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out, and eventually she closed it, shaking her head, returning to her mail. 

“MA--” 

“What, Takuya?” She tossed down the rest of the mail. “What do you want from the entire conversation? You want me to cry? Would that make you feel like I was doing all of this correctly?” she crossed her arms. “There is nothing on earth left that I can do for her. My Papa is dead, and there’s no bringing her back, and all the ridiculous throwing myself into open sobbing is going to change that. It would just be to make everyone else feel better. It won’t make me feel better, because she would still be dead, and I would be annoyed and crying.” 

“What I want, Marine, is for you not to do this--thing, that you do,--”

“I don’t know why you bother even trying to say my name. You pronounce it like a donkey.” She sat down at the desk and opened the computer file. 

“--where you pretend everything is fine, and that nothing can possibly rattle you, and then all of a sudden, you’re gone. You just suddenly decide to deal with things, and God fucking forbid you let anyone help you.” 

She just looked at him, an unimpressed stare on her face. 

“Remember when you and your boyfriend broke up? And it was nothing, until I looked up, and you were in some cheap-ass onsen, drunk, for five days. That was a month later!” 

M.A.’s face turned from unimpressed to thoughtful, though still there was no betrayal of sadness. 

“You’re, and I don’t say this to piss you off, a little bit like your mom sometimes.” 

M.A. let out a loud groan and threw herself back in the chair. “God, I am, aren’t I?” She sighed. “It’s some Greek tragedy of mine.” 

Takuya shrugged. “I like your mom. But, she definitely is, emotionally avoidant.” 

M.A. rested her hands on her chin and stared down at the appointment book. She and Taskuya sat there for a moment, saying nothing, at all, until M.A.’s voice came softly from the desk. 

“I was such a bitch to Pop when I was a teenager.” 

All of life is a play, and there ware times in our lives when we must recognize the act and stage on which we stand. There is a time for the quick back and forth of Wilde, and a time for the ponderousness of Chekov, and above all, a time for a Shakespearan soliloquy. 

And so Takuya did not respond. 

“She was such a good mom,” M.A. folded her hands into her lap, looking more like Michiru than ever before, though he would not have dared say it, “She packed my lunch every day, with these little notes about how she loved me, or was proud of me. Sometimes just a little drawing. I started throwing them away, when I was 13. All my Pop had ever wanted,” she took a deep breath, “ was to be a mom, and I just kept throwing it back in her face.”

“She tried to take me to the movies, shopping, and just--” she gave a difficult huff, “I wanted nothing to do with her. She just wanted me too badly. Isn’t that horrible? My Pop loved me so much that I resented her for it. I thought she was pathetic.

“I really am like my Mom, sometimes, Takuya. You don’t know the half of it. I’ve heard stories of my Mom, when she was a teenager, even up into her 20s, how she was vain and petty, and self-centered. Mom always turns a little pink when anyone mentions it. And then I did the same thing, but to Pop. To someone who only wanted to love me for everything I was. Didn’t matter when I screamed at Mom, didn’t matter when I snuck out. Didn’t even matter when I stole her medication and sold it. And I hated her for it.” she gave a chuckle, “I’m such a bitch.” 

M.A looked up at the ceiling, hands still folded, unable to even glance over at Takuya. 

“I was so cruel, those next few years. I told her she was embarrassing. I told her to leave me alone. Once, when I was 15, I told her she wasn’t even my mom. I wasn’t related to her at all. She started to cry, right there in front of me. You know what I did, Takuya?” she looked over at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Fucking nothing. I stood there, and watched my Pop cry, when she had thrown her entire life into raising me. What kind of fucking...monster…” 

Sometimes, a soliloquy becomes a spiral, and so Takuya stepped in. 

“I knew your Pop for, well, as long as I’ve known you. You two were really close, M.A. So you were a bitch for three years as a kid. I knew Haruka, and I saw her with you, and I never would have known any of that. She forgave you. And you changed. So.” 

M.A laughed and wiped away her tears. “Well, at a certain point, my aunt Mina had enough of my shit and threatened to beat my ass if I couldn’t treat Pop with some kind of borderline kindness.” she cleared her throat. “She told me everything that ever happened to Pop. I never knew all of it. She never told me, and, you know, her mom died when I was really little. And--and, Pop had a pretty big surgery around that time, and I remember cutting class and taking Kimi--” 

“Kimi cut class!? Kimiko. Your sister.” 

M.A. nodded. “The first and last time. Pop hadn’t wanted us to see her until she was a little better. But since when was I listening to Pop? Kimi was so worried.We got there and Pop was so...I felt bad for her.” 

Takuya smiled and leaned over the desk. “And the Snow Queen melted, and became a real girl.” 

“Eat a dick, Takuya.”

“With pleasure.”

She shook her head. “I never apologized to her. I never told her how much I regretted being a complete asshole.” 

He touched her shoulder, and she looked up at him. “Did you stop being an asshole?”

“Yeah.” 

“I think the best apology is changed behavior.” He sat on the desk. “Your Pop loved you. And she knew you loved her. After all that, what else is there?” 

M.A. thought for a moment, looking off into the empty shop that smelled perpetually of the fine shampoos and conditioners they used on the clients, over to where her scissors lay covered in their case where she had left them weeks ago. There was nothing to be done, she was right in that respect. And when there is nothing to be done, at times, we can only be left with the reality of how we feel. 

“I miss her.” 

It was so plain that it surprised the both of them. Artless and plain, without any kind of bravado, laid out there on the counter. Takuya walked across the shop into his station, opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of HIbiki. 

“She was a hell of a person,” He put two plastic glasses in front of them, pouring, “I’m better for having known her.” 

“I’ll drink to that.” 

M.A. did not stop feeling guilty that day, or for a long time, for life does not work that way, and rarely affords us an instant release from that which binds us. But on that day, in a closed shop in a fancy district, she drank good whiskey from a poor cup, and cried, and took the first step toward the sun.