#i should have a steady job during nursing school so i should be able to afford a new dog

[2024skin]

Realistically if I want to get a rottweiler I think I need to get one my first summer of nursing school so that way I can have her completely trained before I start med school

[ateezmakemeweep]

first time with bf!seonghwa 

word count: 8k

angst, fluff, smut 

you knock on the door of seonghwa's dorm as you smooth out your hair, body bouncing and heart racing in excitement because you're finally about to see your boyfriend. 

you haven't seen him in a little over a month, award shows and fan-signs and performances packed into his schedule keeping him extremely busy and traveling in all different time zones.

these past weeks, you two were lucky if you were able to talk on the phone for a few minutes before bed, usually only exchanging good morning and night texts with a few selfies thrown in that made each other's chest tighten. 

but he called you just yesterday, telling you they were coming back a day early with a weeks vacation; you all but squealed in joy over the phone, his and seven other laughs ringing through the speaker at your excitement.

the door rattles in front of you and you perk up even more, anxiously awaiting for it to open until, at last, you see seonghwa's tall figure standing in the doorway; he's smiling down at you and you could burst into tears on the spot.

"hi," his deep voice says quietly, almost as if he's shy after not seeing you for so long, surprised that you're really here in front of him. your face brightens with a smile of your own and you drop your bag to the floor, crashing into him as you throw your arms around his waist.

his body juts back slightly from the force of you, a laugh leaving his mouth as he wraps his arms around you. 

almost instantly, he feels the stress from every delayed flight and early wake up call vanish as you bury your face in his chest. small and soft and warm against his body and now it's finally registering just how long it's really been.

he tries not to think about the distance and strain of not seeing you, loving when he does get the chance to hear from you but also somewhat avoidant of the true circumstances. 

like how when you were sick, he wasn't able to be there to help you. nurse you back to health and let you fall asleep across his chest. 

or like how at night, all he wanted to do was talk with you in bed and wake up next to you.

because he knows if he did dwell on it, he wouldn't be able to live this kind of life. 

wouldn't be able to be away from you for months at a time and carry on the way he does with smiles and a good attitude when you're thousands of miles away, pretending not to be sad and lonely and missing him.

and you really do pretend. 

you'll talk to and text him like everything’s fine, like you're out with your friends or occupied with school work when the sad reality is you huddled into bed with his sweatshirt. 

every night you're on the verge of tears, partially because you miss him and partially because you feel pathetic that you got this attached in eight months.

you always tried to spare these feelings for him.

you never wanted to make him feel bad or make him doubt that you were positive when you said you'd be able to handle dating him - but just one awful day during this past month had you breaking down to him over the phone.

after getting rear-ended on the highway, failing a test, and getting locked out of your house for two hours, you craved the comfort seonghwa provided. his reassuring whispers and forehead kisses and the sound of him humming you to sleep.

"are you okay?" he asked a few minutes into your nightly phone conversation.

he knew the second you answered the phone that you weren't.

tears sting behind your eyes as you roll your tongue between your lips anxiously. because even miles away under exhaustion and stress of his own, he can tell something's wrong with you.

you really don't wanna cry right now. you can't. but that question always makes everything worse.

"y/n?" he asks hesitantly, cautiously, because he can hear it. 

your dejected, shaky tone, your breathy sighs in between sentences, how it sounds like you're about to break down into tears any second. but he also hears how strong you're trying to be. how you're forcing your laughs and asking him all about his performances and fans.

"i-i'm fine," you assure him, cursing yourself for sounding just as pathetic as you feel, "just tired."

he knows you're lying.

"are you sure?" he probes lightly, not wanting to upset you but also not wanting you to bottle up your feelings.

"mhm," you mumble, your lips trembling and now you know you're being annoying. 

but you don't wanna tell him. 

you don't want him to listen to the worries that he can't help you with or be stressed over you when he has more important things going on.

you hear shuffling, indistinguishable whispers to another member and then the sound of a door closing.

"y/n," he says softly and that’s all it takes for the first tear to fall. "for this to work, we need to be honest, baby. remember we talked about that?"

you hear yourself sniffle, nodding even though he can't see you so silence is the only thing between you.

there's one, two, three beats before more tears break and start to trickle down your face.

because the night before he left, that's exactly what he said. 

that being honest and talking through your feelings will be important for you both to do while he's away. will keep your relationship strong and secure and long-lasting through weeks of being apart.

"i just miss you," your voice breaks, a lump forming in his throat at how sad you sound. "i always miss you but especially on days like today."

his eyebrows pinch together at the last part.

"what do you mean? did something happen?" he asks, voice calm and quiet even though he feels anxiety building up. because something bad happening to you while he's away is one of his biggest fears.

you cry to him about your test and getting locked out and then your accident which causes him to cut you off immediately.

"wait, what? accident?" he asks and you can hear the underlying panic in his voice. "were you hurt? are you hurt?"

"no," you tell him, and the words halt him from running out to hongjoong and telling him he needs to leave right now. 

"my car is ruined and i'll have to get it fixed... but i wasn't hurt, it was just.. i was just scared," you say, the last two words so soft and quiet.

he swallows the lump that keeps getting bigger in his throat, his heart really hurting now. 

"i'm sorry i'm not there," he tells you after a few seconds, "i...i should be there and i'm not."

you sniffle and it causes him to bite his lip to distract him from his stinging eyes. it's so hard being away from you when you're sad, knowing that you're in bed alone fighting tears in a quiet, empty house.

"but i'll be home soon, okay?" he says, his voice sounding strained and it makes your lips turn into a frown,"i promise i'll be home soon."

you nod your head as you sit up in your bed, leaning against the headboard and running a hand through your hair.

"i know, that's what i keep telling myself. and i'm..i'm usually okay but it's only because today was a disaster," you tell him softly, honestly.

"i'm sorry, love," he says and you speak up before he can say anything else.

"don't say sorry, hwa," you tell him, "i...i didn't tell you to make you feel bad. but.. you said we should be honest so..."

he smiles at your stuttering and his heart pangs. this is gonna be the longest two and a half weeks of his life.

"i know, baby, thank you," he says, "i think we're doing a pretty good job so far, don't you think?"

you giggle, nodding your head and wiping the tears from your cheek. "yeah," you say, "we are."

"y/n?" he says suddenly and you hum a questioning "hm?" as you lay back down, your head on the pillow.

"i.." he pauses for a second and you hear him exhale slowly. "i lo-"

he jumps when there's a pounding on the door followed by mingi's deep voice complaining that he's about to pee his pants as he scoffs at the younger boy.

"c'mon, please! i have to peeeee!" he whines again loudly and a laugh rings through your empty bedroom as you hear the boy's booming voice.

"he's the worst," seonghwa grumbles and you smile at his grumpy tone.

"sh, it's okay. i should go to sleep anyway," you tell him. "goodnight, i miss you."

you feel his arms tighten around you, his lips resting against your head as he unconsciously rocks you back and forth. 

"i missed you, baby," you hear him mumble and you look up at him, stomach fluttering and arms still around him as your chin rests on his chest.

"i missed you, too," you say meekly, a small, shy smile on your face. the look in his eyes is so soft, so loving and overwhelming cute that it has you hiding your face back in his white sweater.

"wait, no," he whines, his finger under your chin to lift your face. you giggle softly as you watch his eyes graze over your face, the looks far too intimate and personal to be happening out in the hallway.

"what?" you ask him, a coy smile playing on your lips.

"don't hide," he chides lightly, the hand under your chin moving to tuck your hair behind your ear. "i wanna see your face," he mumbles out, hand moving to your jaw as he brings his face lower until his lips meet yours.

you smile softly into it, craning your neck up to deepen the kiss. 

his hand tightens on your face when he feels your immediate response, lips wet and parting on yours. his tongue slips in ever so slightly, just so teasingly and you have to steady yourself by putting your hand on his forearm.

you're not at all prepared for this while standing out here so exposed and in the open.

you pull away and he looks down at you with concern.

maybe that was too much after not seeing each other in so-

"can we go inside?" you squeak out and a little laugh leaves his mouth, slightly embarrassed that he's three seconds away from shoving his tongue down your throat while still in the doorway.

"'course, love, i'm sorry," he says, bending down to grab your bag, his hand moving to hold yours as he tugs you into the apartment. 

he shuts the door with his foot, hanging your bag up as you take off your shoes before dragging you over to the sectional couch.

netflix is already set on the tv, blankets and pillows laid out with an array of snacks on the coffee table. a festive vanilla candle is burning and there's light patter of rain hitting the windows outside.

you smile at the sight, lacing your fingers through his as you lean your head against his arm.

"seonghwa," you say, voice dragging out because you feel entirely too soft and impressed looking at the cute little set-up.

something about your tone makes him feel shy, looking down to hide his smile in your hair and you giggle because you know he's feeling embarrassed. "stop laughing at me," he whines playfully, moving away to meet your gaze, "i was excited to see you."

your eyes soften, your own smile widening as you squeeze his hand that’s in yours. "me too," you squeak out and he bites his lip to hide his smirk.

he walks you over to the couch, grabbing the remote from off the table before laying out on the long part of the couch. he drags you down and you shimmy until your back is pressed up again his front, an arm immediately wrapping around your waist.

he sees your head perk up at the tv when the new drama just added pops up. he smiles to himself before pressing play and you look back at him happily. 

"i waited for you to start this, you know," you tell him proudly.

you were pleasantly surprised to find out your boyfriend was also a fan of dramas, fully prepared to beg and plead with him when you first starting dating until he was the one recommending them every time you met up with each other.

"you better have," he says sternly, an underlying playfulness as his hand moves across your stomach to squeeze your waist. 

you elbow and shush him when the opening credits start, settling back into him as places a kiss on the top of your head. this is all he's wanted for a month now.

you close your eyes in contentment, a little hum leaving your mouth before focusing on the tv.

or at least attempting to.

because after just twenty minutes of watching the show, mindlessly commenting on the characters and acting with seonghwa in between, you're doing everything in your power to not turn around and continue what you barely got to start in the hallway.

you two haven't had sex yet, haven't really gotten past making out, but now you find yourself ready to jump his bones. the time apart made you realize how much you want to. how ready you are to open up that side of the relationship.

you turn around in his hold, his arm remaining around your waist as he moves his head to look down at you questioningly.

"you good?" he mumbles and you nod your head, a small smile on your face, teeth biting at your lip because even though you're ready, you're still so nervous.

he watches as your eyes fall to his lips, your tongue coming out to soothe over the skin where your teeth just were before meeting his gaze again.

"yeah," you say, voice soft but shaky because of the desire that's continuing to creep up on you. "are you?"

he can see the slight change in you the more he looks at you. you've always been so...shy and pure with your skin ship, hugs and hand holding and cheek kisses.

but now, with your flushed cheeks, wet lips, and gaze falling down to his for the second time, he feels something stirring in him. 

something he had always tried to suppress because he wasn't sure if you were ready for that. something that's heightening because now he knows you've been thinking about continuing where you left off for the past 20 minutes.

"mhm," he says lips turning into a smirk that he can't hold back. 

just to be sure he's reading you right, his tongue comes out to wet his own lips and he looks you right in the eyes at he does so; he watches in amusement and pleasure as yours widen slightly and you take a sharp inhale.

"have you been enjoying the show, love?" he asks you suddenly and you feel yourself swallow. 

you've never seen him look like this before, look right at you, almost through you, with that teasing, cocky fervor he has on stage and now you realize you've been caught.

your cheeks flush as you feel slightly embarrassed because you're never bold like this when it comes to real kissing. but you just feel so...

"y/n?" he asks and you snap out of your trance, head turning to the side like a puppy who just heard a high-pitched squeal.

"hm?" you hum before you brain somehow registers what he said a few seconds ago. 

"oh...yeah, it's good," you squeak out, an awkward giggle leaving your mouth and he's smiling right at you, his eyes glimmering with a mix of fondness and seduction.

"you're so cute," he mumbles, such sincerity held in his tone causing more heat to flush over your cheeks. his hand moves down to your chin, lifting your face up as he bends down to meet your lips again.

if you weren't so flustered, you would've internally celebrated his lips finally being back on yours. but you were so past that point, so past being aware of what you were doing and just letting your instincts take over.

you kiss him like you've never before, eager and fervent and it's a sharp contrast to the cute little pecks you usually initiate. 

your body is pressing into his almost painfully as you tangle your hands in his hair. 

he hums against your lips, his tongue slipping through your open mouth and you're surprised when your own meets his, pushing your way through and you don't think you've ever kissed him before like this. 

and yet here you are, body pressed against his as your tongues tangle into one another.

he's trying to remember to be gentle with you, that this is new for you, but he's finding it extremely hard with how eager you're being. how you're unaware that you're fighting him for the dominance you won't win.

his teeth sink down into your lip gently, but enough for you to feel it and it causes something to burn inside you. you break the kiss and he immediately pulls back, looking over you to see if that was too much for you.

but instead, he's met with fire in your eyes and your hand on his chest that’s pushing him back so he's fully laying down. his head is laid out on the armrest as you raise yourself over him to straddle his waist.

you're looking down at him with this contrast of desire and apprehensiveness that has his dick starting to twitch in his pants. because he can see even though you're shy and a little unsure of yourself, you want to do something more.

his eyes don't leave you as you move your hair to one side, licking your lips as you watch him watch you. 

his dark, guarded eyes alone have your hips twitching from burning arousal and a tiny smile crosses your face before you bend down to meet his lips again. his hands move to your hips as your kissing continues, tongue and teeth from both of you as your arms hold yourself above him. 

you take his bottom lip in between your teeth slowly, biting down softly before releasing it and the tiny groan that leaves his lips has you pulling back because you think you've hurt him.

"are-are you okay, i'm sorry," you say breathlessly, his dark eyes looking at you causing something tingly and powerful to rip through your core.

"why are you sorry?" he ask voice, voice deeper and strained, "you're doing so good, baby."

he feels himself losing it, losing in his attempt to hide his growing erection and losing his restraint to just flip you over and show him how much he really missed you.

but then it's the way your smile brightens, so sweet and cute and innocently, as you quietly squeak out "really?" that's eventually the thing to get him.

he nods his head, almost in pain by how fast the desire starts to flow through his veins. 

"so so good," he says, almost whining the words out and you feel a familiar wetness start to gather between your legs.

you move your hips again at the sensation and a breathy sigh leaves your mouth when you rub against the bulge in your boyfriend's pants.

he watches you carefully, watches as your face twists into one of wonder and then pleasure, hissing through his teeth when you do it again. except this time, you push down just a little harder with a more purposeful roll of the hips.

"seonghwa," you breathe out and you don't even hear his name tumble out of your mouth. you're just so ready for more, so ready for him to make you feel more of that and do more of anything.

before you know it, you're flipped over on your back, his hands holding you down by your waist as he tries to reign himself in.

"what do you wanna do, y/n?" he asks you, voice gruff because he's trying to get a grip back on reality before he gets too far into this, "we've...we've never gone this far before and i...i don't want us to move too fast and then-"

"i want everything," you tell him immediately, honestly. "please. i've missed you so much and i'm ready now."

his cock is straining against his pants now, having you on your back being so polite and ready - but he has to make sure you're really ready. he doesn't wanna just dive right in after not seeing you for a month and then take your virginity in the first hour you're reunited.

"i just got back, love, we can take it slow," he says, soft sincerity in his tone even with a raging boner, "there's no need to rush if you're not ready."

but you shake your head adamantly because you know you are. 

"no," you say and he'd laugh at your serious tone in any other circumstance. "i know i'm ready, i promise i'm ready," you tell him firmly before something innate in you has you whining "please."

his eyes darken and he finally allows himself to fully give into you, one hand resting between your thighs as he bends down to kiss your lips again.

you respond immediately, hands going in his hair as you move your hips because you feel him so close to where you want him. where you need him. 

he pushes his tongue into your mouth and you nearly choke on it when his finger runs over your pants slowly. you tug on his hair as he continues to rub over you slowly, steadily, and it feels so good but also like it's not enough.

you move to spread your legs, wanting to feel so much more but you're constricted by the arm of the couch and the cushions; you exhale sharply through your nose in annoyance.

seonghwa's finger runs down your burning core one last time before you're looking at him in confusion when he snatches it away. but then he’s looming over you, waiting expectantly before muttering, "stand."

you raise to your feet and squeal when he takes you by the waist and throws you over his shoulder, a smile on his face as he listens to your flustered, broken laughs. 

he makes his way to the bedroom and throws you down on his mattress, standing between your body as he immediately leans down to kiss your neck. 

you lean your head back so he gets more of an angle, breathy sighs leaving your mouth as he tickles you with his soft kisses and occasional sweep of the tongue.

he begins to suck on a spot of your neck and you're expecting it to hurt but it's a sharp pain that you're welcoming with open arms. he licks over the forming hickey after a few moments, groaning against your neck as his hands make their way to the bottom of your shirt.

he pulls back to look at you, eyes searching yours for permission and you nod your head, lip between your teeth as you lift your back off the bed. he pulls your shirt over your head and when he throws it on the floor, your arms are already behind your back undoing your bra.

but it's not until the back is unclasped that you realize this is the first time he's seeing you like this. you feel a twinge of insecurity and nervousness run through you, trying your best to push it aside because there's no reason to be.

it's just scary to you, him seeing you so openly and exposed and naked for the first time.

seonghwa must sense your hesitance because his hand covers yours on the unclasped back, rubbing his thumb over your skin and pecking your cheek with his red lips.

"you okay?" he mumbles against your skin. "if at any time you wanna stop, all you have to do is tell-"

any hesitance you felt is gone when he talks about stopping, your hands tugging down your bra straps before tossing it behind you. 

you run your hands down his torso, grabbing the end of his shirt as you say "your turn," looking up at him with playful, pleading eyes and a groan leaves his mouth at your expression.

he takes his white shirt off before shimming out of his sweatpants, leaving him standing there in black boxers with a big, visible bulge. the searing sensation between your legs is back with a vengeance.

"oh god," you mumble because that is big and he smirks, going over and pushing your back fully onto the bed again.

"what happened, love? were you expecting anything less?" he teases, bringing his mouth down to your chest and you feel yourself swallow. 

his breath just fans over you, void of any lips or tongue as his hands come up to knead your boob softly. his touch is soft and gentle but extremely effective and you're fighting to release the moan stuck in your throat.

he brings a thumb to your mouth and places it on your bottom lip.

"open for me," he says, tone sweet but also authoritative so, of course, it has you obeying. 

you part your lips slightly and he shoves his finger in your mouth, successfully wetting his thumb and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he feels your tongue swirl around it several times, slowly and teasingly as you look at him.

"jesus christ," he growls and you fight back a smirk until a choked gasp leaves you. 

his wet thumb is now swirling around your nipple, small, steady circles sending sparks through you and his cock throbs watching it harden under his touch. placing his whole hand on you, his mouth moves down and licks around the other nipple causing your first real moan to leave your mouth.

you'd be embarrassed if it didn't feel so good, if it wasn't obvious how much hearing it affected seonghwa, too. his hand squeezes while his mouth sucks and another breathy moan leaves you as he applies more pressure to both.

his mouth is working your nipple so well that you don't feel his hand graze down your stomach to pull down your leggings. your hips buck in surprise when you feel his hand over where you're wet and throbbing, his effect on you obvious through your white lace.

he pulls away and stares down at you, face flushed and nipples erect while you're trying to contain another moan from leaving your mouth.

"you're so pretty, baby, look at you," he says, still stroking through the lace material at an incredibly slow speed that's making you wanna scream. "does that feel good?" he muses and you nod your head, your voice squeaking out "more. want more."

he smirks hearing the words, removing his hand from you causing you to sharply exhale from your nose.

"move up the bed, by the pillows," he commands and you move backwards until your back is surrounded by five piles of fluff.

you wait expectantly, shaky knees bent as you lay there in just your underwear as he finally makes his way up to you.

"you really are pretty, baby," you tells you and if you weren't so dazed, you'd notice that his eyes haven't left your face. "i missed you a lot. you know that, right?"

you nod your head, licking over your dry lips and your legs are starting to tremble because of the build up of pressure in your core. but you know if you cut him off right now, it would do more harm than good.

"can i show you how much?" he asks you, his fingers in the waistband of your thong but making no move to pull them down yet. 

"can i show you how much i missed you? what i would think about doing some nights when i couldn't sleep and missed my pretty baby?"

you think you're about to pass out, his words, dark gaze and fingers inching further and further down in the lace leaving you with shallow breaths and more wetness between your thighs.

"ye-yes," you mumble out. "yes, please. seonghwa, please," you beg, wanting the throbbing between your legs to be relieved just a little bit.

your voice is whiney, breathy, pleading, all of the things that matched every one of the fantasies he had on nights when his hormones acted up and he yearned for you.

that’s what has him sliding your thong down mid-thigh before moving by your feet, pulling them off the rest of the way and throwing them on the floor. 

he leans down, body half-on half-off the bed as his face is just inches from your wet core. just on instinct, you close your legs and that was the very wrong, or actually very right, thing to do.

because it causes him to growl between your legs, spreading them open and holding them down before his lips dive in to kiss down the inner part of your thigh.

"keep 'em open, baby, it's okay," he mumbles against your skin and you stifle a moan with the inside of your elbow when you feel his lips gaze higher and higher on your thigh. 

"i'm gonna take care of you," he says and you feel the breath from his words fan over you.

his face is now so close to where you need relief you can feel his hot breath for a moment until his lips move to your other thigh, peppering kisses up and down with an occasional sweep of the tongue.

you wanna scream when you feel his smirk on your quivering legs.

"seonghwa," you groan breathlessly as you look down at him and he meets your gaze, eyes half open and glossy, "please."

a part of you is trying so hard to remember for future reference that he likes when you have good manners because when the word leaves your mouth, his eyes darken and he immediately moves his head between your legs.

and then finally, his mouth is on you. 

tongue licking over you slowly and then all at once, your hips almost buck right up from the shock and pleasure. 

he feels your hands move to his hair, pulling and curling it between your fingers and it causes him to move his tongue to your clit, almost as if he's rewarding you.

"does that feel good, y/n?" he suddenly purrs, pulling away from you slightly to talk. 

he watches as you nod your head eagerly, glazed eyes looking down at him and he doesn't even hear the growl leave his mouth before he dives back in, tongue sucking and licking like his life depends on it.

your moans ring through the bedroom and you never knew something could feel like this. feel so intoxicatingly consuming and pleasurable and the fact that he's so happy to do it causes another breathy moan to fall from your lips.

you're too dazed, somewhere euphoric and in your own head that you don't feel his hand snake between your legs, his tongue lapping over your clit as his finger slowly makes his way inside you.

you feel the slight sting and your hips buck this time, your hand tightening in his hair. 

the view of him looking up at you between your legs is something you don't think you'll ever forget. something that will play over in your mind everyday from here on out.

his eyes, despite being so dark and aroused also show a hint of concern and caution and you nod your head at him to continue.

his finger pushes inside you and you let out a tiny groan, one he mistakes for pain until he hears you mumble "oh, fuck." your eyes are squeezed shut, mouth dropped open and your legs spreading open more at the feeling.

he can't stop the pride flooding through his chest nor can he wipe the smirk off his wet lips as he continues to eat you out, one finger slowly moving in and out of you until you feel the knot deep within your lower stomach slowly start to unravel.

it's all consuming at first and it causes a loud moan to rip through you, "seonghwa, what...i’m-" but it only causes his tongue to move faster as a second finger slips in and now you're shaking under him.

he feels a slight twinge of pain as you grab his hair harshly, pushing your hips against his mouth as moans continuously ring out of your mouth. 

he hears one last mumble of "oh, my god," before you harshly pull your hips back, the pleasure becoming too much to handle as you move your hands from his hair to his forehead, slightly pushing him away from the now sensitive area.

he can only hear your shallow breaths as he kisses the inside of your thigh, bending down to pick up his discarded shirt to clean between your legs. 

you can't look down at him right now, too dazed as you're coming down from your high, but you can feel how delicate and gentle his touches are.

he throws the shirt back on the floor, crawling up the bed and holding himself above you. 

his hand reaches out to move sweaty strands of hair off your forehead as he peers down at you lovingly, your own eyes shut and a content hum leaving your mouth.

your eyes pop open and his smile widens, the softest look on his face causing your heart to flutter in your chest.

"how was that, baby?" he asks softly even though the glint in his eyes gives you an inkling he already knows it was-

"good," you say shyly and a laugh bubbles out of his mouth, his eyes squinting playfully.

"just good?" he asks, head turned to that side in disbelief.

you squint your eyes at him playfully, knowing he has every right in the world to be cocky but instead sarcastically mouthing off, "incredible, amazing, show-stopping, spectacular...”

he cuts you off with his lips meeting yours in a kiss and you giggle against them, bringing your arms up to wrap around his shoulders. he pulls back and brings his mouth to your ear, kissing the tiny spot behind it before whispering, "you ready for more?"

a little squeak leaves your mouth and he pulls back to meet your gaze, watching over your expression carefully. 

"we don't have to, love, remember that," he says but you shake your head right when he's done talking.

"i'm ready," you tell him adamantly. "i want us to. and i'm already on the pill."

he smiles softly at you, placing a kiss on your forehead before his eyes meet your again. 

"okay...it might hurt a little but i'll be gentle."

"i know," you tell him because you don't trust anyone more than him.

his chest tightens at the softness and surety in your tone and his thumb comes down to stroke your cheek. 

"stay as relaxed as you can, alright?" he warns, "if you tense up, it could hurt more. "

you nod your head at him, impressed that he can still be so soft and loving and considerate when his cock is rock hard and straining against your stomach.

he gives you one last smile before carefully aligning himself between your legs. he leans over your body and you watch as he drops his palm below your mouth, his dark determined look slowly making its way back.

"spit," he commands and your eyebrows furry slightly but you listen.

"again," he says and swish your mouth around before spitting again.

you watch as he places his spit-covered hand around his cock, eyes shutting slightly as he jerks himself a few times with the natural lubrication. 

you hold back a moan watching him, wanting so badly to touch him like that, learn how to make him feel good and make him cum with your hand and mouth, but you know you'll have lots of time to practice.

his eyes meet yours and he smirks watching you look at him before dragging his tip between your wetness. you inhale sharply at the feeling but try to stay relaxed per his request. 

he gives you a knowing look before circling your sensitive clit with the tip and your eyes roll back, still stimulated from a few moments ago as a tiny groan leaves your mouth.

his tip leaves it after a few moments and he slowly starts to enter you, pushing forward and you hear a groan leave his mouth.

"fuck," he growls and the harshness of his voice alone has your body reacting without your knowledge. your pussy clenches around him, both from his voice and then searing sensation of him entering you.

the more he enters, the more you're stretched and there's only a slight burn; it's not the worst pain you've ever felt but it's also not particularly comfortable. he's almost all the way in when a sigh leaves his mouth, his eyes peaking up at you.

"oh, my god....you good?" he grunts out, voice strained because you're so tight and wet around him and a part of him just wants to slam into you.

you nod at him, trying your best to just stay relaxed and he smiles at you in a daze.

"good, baby, you're doing so good," he says before fully pushing his way in. he stills immediately and you exhale, moving your hips around him experimentally to see if there's any pain.

"it...doesn't hurt, hwa," you assure him, "you can move," you tell him.

and move he does. still slowly and steadily until he's thrusting in at a moderately even pace that has grunts and groans leaving his mouth.

"y/n," he moans and something purely instinctual causes you to meet his hips. "fuck," he growls out, "you're so...fucking tight," he moans and you never thought such a...compliment? would cause you to unconsciously clench around him even more.

"you like hearing that?" he grunts out, his thrusts picking up speed.

you nod your head but then his thrusts start to slow and you look up at him with furrowed eyebrows because you were starting to like it.

"say it. use your words," he commands because his need to assert his dominance is outweighing his pleasure. for now.

"i like...i like hearing that. i like hearing you talk to me like this," you tell him and you're surprised by how easily you've fallen into this role.

he nods his head, almost as if he's commending your compliance and his thrusts start to pick up again. 

there's a few silent moments of just his thrusting, groans leaving his mouth as his head rolls down in pleasure and they’re making you even more worked up.

he meets your gaze and there's something about the way you're underneath him that causes him to lose control. because you're looking at him so eagerly, eyes the slightest bit glossy and dark as your naked chest heaves up and down.

his thrusts stay the same pace but become a little harder and you're still so wet around him. still clenched and squeezing around him so well.

"you're mine, baby," he growls suddenly. "all of you and this tight little pussy."

you don't even realize a breathy laugh leaves your mouth at his comment until another growl echoes through the room, his thumb on your clit as he starts to rub back and forth.

"shit," you squeak, caught off guard by the sensation before you whine his name.

"that's what you get for laughing," he growls, thrusting evenly and you watch as a thin layer of sweat starts to form on his face. "you're mine, baby, don't you know that?"

"ye-yes," you say, the tight knot back in your stomach as he continues to thrust and rub.

"yes what?" he growls. he would've slowed his pace down again if fucking you didn't feel so good.

"i'm...i'm yours," you tell him, eyes rolling back the slightest bit because you feel another orgasm coming on.

"say it again," he commands, sweat rolling down his head as his thrusts become slightly sporadic and hard.

a moan tumbles out of your mouth before you can even say anything because the tightening feels so good, your legs are starting to shake again and your head is thrown back against the mattress.

"y/n, say it," he commands again, a bit louder and rougher and your head shoots up because you feel his finger starts to slow down.

"i'm yours, seonghwa," you moan out quickly. "i'm yours, i'm yours, i'm yours. just please don't stop," you babble out, voice breathy and back arching and both of you let out loud, long moans as you reach your climaxes only seconds apart.

he releases inside of you with one final thrust while his thumb rubs out your orgasm, your harsh breaths filing the room as he rests his head in the crook of your neck.

you brush your hand through the back of his hair for a few moments as he catches his breath, his cock still inside you until he kisses the side of your neck and pulls out to roll over next to you.

he reaches out to pull you on to him, your head resting on his bare chest and you can hear his racing heartbeat slowly start to simmer down.

"are you okay?" he mumbles against your hair tiredly, "that was way more than good, my love," he says causing you to giggle against him.

"i know," you say breathlessly, "i'm good...really good actually."

he laughs quietly against you, his arm around you as his hand plays with your hair and your eyes can't help but close.

the sound of your even breathing is the only noise in the bedroom for a few moments, quiet and peaceful with the faintest smell of sex and vanilla lingering from the living room.

"y/n?" he hums suddenly and your eyes flutter open. you lean up slightly to look at him and see his brown eyes staring down at you.

"hi," you say and a little smile covers his face as he leans down and pecks your nose.

"i love you," he blurts out and your eyes widen hearing those words leave him so easily before he continues. 

"i'm..i’m not just saying that because of what we just did," he reassures you, hand still stroking your hair softly. "i actually tried to tell you on the phone one night," he admits bashfully and your mind immediately replays one of your nightly phone conversations.

"y/n?" he says suddenly and you hum a questioning "hm?" as you lay back down, your head on the pillow.

"i.." he pauses for a second and you hear him exhale slowly, "i lo-"

"c'mon, please! i have to peeeee!"

"i remember. mingi had to pee," you tell him softly, looking down to avoid his intense gaze.

he laughs a little at the memory, rolling his eyes at the mention of the boy as he nods his head. 

"good, i didn't want you thinking that's why i said it. i wanted to tell you the second i saw you...it was so hard being away from you," he says and you don't think you've ever heard his voice so soft and gentle before.

“i missed you so much and then i just..i knew i loved you. for a long time now.”

you feel tears prick your eyes because you felt the same way. 

he's really here next to you right now, he's no longer just a voice on the phone, and he's back with you and feels the same way. you try to compose yourself, try to blink away the tears and swallow the lump in your throat.

"can you look at me," seonghwa says quietly and you move your face into the crook of his neck. it takes a few seconds before he feels the slightest bit of wetness on his skin and a frown immediately overtakes his face.

"y/n, please look at me, baby," he says again and you can't not listen when he talks like that.

you meet his gaze, tears brimming your eyes as one slides down your cheek and his face completely drops, stomach twisting nervously because why are you crying?

"hey, hey, what happened? what's wrong?" he asks urgently, moving his hands to both your cheeks to wipe off the wetness.

"i'm sorry," you squeak out, "i'm so dumb, i just...i love you too," you tell him and the pained expression wipes off his face immediately. "i just...i love you and missed you so much and now you're finally here and you love me."

seonghwa swipes his thumbs under your eyes one more time as a nervous laughs leaves his mouth. 

"jesus, you scared me," he says before he places a soft kiss on the top of your head, “of course i love you.”

a quiet giggle leaves your own mouth, looking at him when he pulls back from your head, "i'm sorry, i just...it just hit me that you were home and i..i'm really happy you're here."

his eyes roam over your face, the feeling in his chest so overwhelming as he looks at you. he pecks both of your cheeks quickly, two loud smacks against your skin and scrunch your nose playfully at his harsh movements.

"i love you," he repeats and you giggle, wiping your hand under your eye because your face is now even more sticky.

"i love you,” you say and he catches your lips in another kiss. 

this one’s a lot more like your previous kisses, soft and innocent and pure. his tongue only teases your entrance a little bit and you smile against him before your stomach growls loudly.

he breaks apart as a laugh bubbles out of his mouth. 

"you hungry?" he asks and you nod your head shyly because apparently, your stomach growling is more embarrassing to you than sharing your first sexual experience.

you roll off his chest and onto your back to stretch out, extending your legs with a slight groan. he shuffles over and holds himself above you, trapping you between his arms.

"what do you want?" he asks, soft eyes looking down at you with his black hair tangled and sticking up messily.

"i don't know," you say coyly, reaching up to smooth out his hair gently. 

your nails gently scrape his scalp and he hums at your touch, eyes shutting slightly at the feeling and he has half the mind to lay back down so you could do this for hours.

but instead, because he hasn't seen in you weeks, his eyes pop open and a mischievous smile covers his face.

"i think i got something for you," he says, "since i just ate so well..."

your eyebrows furry together, head turned to the side in confusion as his smirk grows wider and wider on his face.

"what do you-" a gasp leaves your mouth once your brain finally catches on. "seonghwa!" you say in mock outrage as you smack his chest lightly, crawling underneath him and through his arm till you drop on the floor.

you spot his shirt next to you and quickly throw it over yourself, hiding your smile when you smell his scent around you.

his laugh rings through the bedroom and he gets up to catch you around the waist, pulling your body into his and loving the way you look in his clothes.

"i'm kidding, love," he says, placing a kiss on your temple, "maybe....pancakes?"

you spin in his arms, eyes wide with a bright smile as you eagerly nod.

"yes! pancakes...at least for now," you tell him, your eyebrows shooting up suggestively before you peck him on the cheek and run into the kitchen. 

seonghwa's standing in the bedroom in a daze for a few seconds, feeling grateful and already knowing you both won't be leaving this house for the next seven days.

[vintagedolan]

mixtape | track one

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

Six. There were six different lines, tiny plastic tubes that hung down from the side of the bed, making the shape of a U in the air. Too many, but still, one less than yesterday.

“Is it alive?”

“No.”

“Is it a vegetable?”

“That’s oddly specific.”

“But is it a vegetable though?”

“No.”

“Aw shit.”

Indiana looked up from her hands then, brows furrowing at the small figure who had huddled herself under the thin cotton covers. You’d think, with how expensive hospital bills were that they could at least afford a real fucking blanket for their patients. Especially the kids.  

“C’mon now, watch the language.” She said. It was a half-hearted reprimand at best.

“You told me I could curse!”

“I told you that you could curse about your meds, there’s a difference.”

“Bullshit. I should be able to curse about anything I want to.”

“Bekah.” It was her mom voice – an instinct.

“Indiana.” The younger girl mimicked the tone as best she could.

There was a beat of silence then – well, as silent as a hospital room ever could get, that is. The monotonous song of machinery beeps, the muffled car horns outside on the streets, and nurses footsteps outside never truly faded.

“If the nurses hear you cursing in here they’re gonna say I’m a bad influence.” It was almost time for rounds and meds, 7pm on the dot - they’d be there any minute.

“Speak of the devil,” Bekah grumbled, eyes flitting to the door that was swinging open, the nurse bumping against it, her cart hitting the walls right on schedule.

“Hi miss Bekah, how’re we feeling this evening?”

“Shi-“

Indiana threw her a look, the kind she imagined her mom would give if she were there. Bekah sunk back into the pillow, rolling her eyes.

“-very. Shivery. It’s cold in here.”

She earned a thumbs up for that one and a wink that made her smile.

The nurse – Jennifer, Indiana realized – was as sweet as ever. She was one of the nicer ones, always let things slide, always let her stay 30 minutes after visiting hours if she really wanted to.

“That’s probably just the meds from earlier darling, they always make you a bit chilly.”

“Can’t wait to take more.” Bekah sighed, wiggling up in the bed and moving her shirt down, her collarbone prominent under her dark skin. Next to it sat a small bulge, surrounded by medical tape, two small tubes peeking out from underneath. They’d done a good job at making it subtle, unnoticeable if you weren’t looking for it – Indiana’s mom’s port had never looked like that. She wondered if it was because the technology had improved in four years, or if they were just more careful about it when the patient was young.

Because it’s okay for an adult to have cancer, but a kid? That’s where we draw the fuckin’ line.

“Is it food?”

“What?” Jennifer asked, quirking an eyebrow as she continued to hang the bags on the IV pole.

“None of your business. Indiana, is it a food?”

“Now now,” Jennifer tutted.

“No, it’s not a food.” Indiana sighed, knowing better than to try and keep Bekah’s attitude in check. That was a battle she’d lose before it began. “Keep trying.”

She paused while the nurse took her time in getting her meds set and ready, attaching them to her port. She didn’t even flinch at the needle, the brown skin of her forehead as smooth and perfect as ever, not a worry line in sight. The game picked up as soon as Jennifer walked back out of the room.

“Is it something you- something you wear?” That was always the first sign that the meds entered her system – the ‘brain fog’ as she called it. Bekah sucked in a deep breath, her seemingly tiny chest rising up as she tried to settle herself. 

Indiana’s eyes flickered over to the IV bag – the clear liquid looked harmless enough as it dripped down. She knew it was anything but – just Bekah’s hair was enough to attest to that. She wore it in a wrap mostly these days, but she’d seen what was underneath. Her beautiful curls had started to fall out only a few weeks prior, and it was only a matter of time before they were gone completely. If she had to guess from what she’d seen when she fixed the knot of her wrap, the last of it would be gone after today.

“Yes, it’s something you wear.”

“So it’s clothes.”

“Not necessarily. You wear other things,” she explained, scooting her chair a bit closer to the bedside, reaching a hand out.

In the three years that Indiana had known Bekah, she was always amazed at how strong she was. It had impressed her from the first time she’d mustered up the courage to sign up for the volunteer program at the hospital two blocks away from her college apartment. Bekah was twelve then, a spunky young girl with big headphones over her ears and thick rubber bracelets on her thin wrists.

“Stop looking at me like that,” was what she’d chosen as an introduction. She’d looked up at Indiana with accusatory eyes, wide and dark and annoyed in the middle of the overly colorful pediatric wing hallway.

“Like what?”

“Like I have cancer. Don’t treat me like I’m sick and I won’t act like it. Capeesh?”

She’d only been able to swallow and nod, somewhat embarrassed but mostly just in awe.

So, when Indiana got matched with her as her ‘buddy’, she tried her hardest to do as she’d agreed to. Or at least, she did her best to be subtle about it. She could sneak in her moments of worry at times like this, when Bekah’s eyes were scrunched closed and she didn’t bat away the hand holding hers.

“Damn. The BBJ is not making me feel very BB esque today,” she grumbled, breathing deep in through her nose. Indiana’s other hand inched towards the bedpan resting on the table – the nausea usually kicked in right about now, and her deep breathing was always a tell that her stomach was churning. BBJ stood for ‘Bad Bitch Juice’ which was just the fun term for chemo that Bekah had come up with during one of her rotations a few years back. The nurses hated it, gave Indiana dirty looks when she let her say it around them.

“Bed pan at the ready,” Indiana reassured her, making sure it was in reach in case it got to be too much.

“Just keep playing the game, it’ll distract me. What do I know so far?”

“It’s not alive, it’s not a vegetable or a food, you can wear it but it’s not clothes.”

“Makeup?”

Indiana shook her head, doing everything to avoid reacting to the way Bekah was squeezing her hand. It was so tight that she felt her bones were probably touching each other in a way they weren’t meant to.

“Shoes?”

“No.”

“Do you wear it on your head?”

“I mean… technically?”

“That’s a cop out answer.”

“Don’t dwell on it, just keep going.”

She saw it coming before it happened – the turn of Bekah’s face, the way her body jolted just barely. It’s a good thing it wasn’t her first time, or she wouldn’t have gotten the bedpan under her fast enough to catch her vomit. She held her breath, tried not to listen to the sounds of retching so she didn’t get sick herself, holding steady until Bekah’s stomach was empty and she’s laid back against the pillows, exhausted. Indiana followed the motions, got up and walked to the bathroom, dumped the contents down the toilet and flushed it, left the plastic basin on the floor for the nurses to get later and washed her hands. By the time she made it back to the side of the bed, Bekah’s eyes were closed.

There were three marked stages of a chemo session with Bekah: the ‘this doesn’t affect me’ phase, the puke phase, and finally, the sleep phase, which seemed to be fast approaching. Even with her eyes closed she felt Indiana join her at her bedside, and she sighed in defeat.

“What was it? I don’t wanna ask more questions.”

“Earrings.”

“That’s two things, you cheated.”

She could have argued, but you just don’t argue with a kid with cancer if you don’t have to. It’s an unspoken rule.

“You’re right. You win.”

Bekah seemed content enough with that, but her eyebrows scrunched up again like they always did when she was focusing.

“Where do you get earrings in your teeth?”

“Huh?”

“Earrings in teeth… there was a guy… yesterday… earrings.”

Indiana just held her hand as she rambled, drifting off as she turned her head into her pillow. Not that she knew personally, but she’d never seen anyone be comfortable during a chemo treatment. But there was a peace that took over when their body decided that it was too much to handle in the realm of consciousness and they drifted off into their dreams.

So she was happy to look at the bed after she picked up her backpack and see that Bekah’s was asleep. She closed the door on her way out, moved to the nurse’s desk to sign out like she always did. The nurses always smiled at her, sitting back there in their colorful scrubs and big headbands. This time, it was Valentina who beamed up at her.

“Indiana, honey, how’s school going?”

“It’s going.” It’s killing me. “Just one semester left to go!”

“Don’t you overwork yourself now, we need you around here,” she threw a wink with her long lashes, opening her mouth to say something else before her phone rang. “You have a good one honey, we’ll see you next week.” Valentina picked it up, another call to another room for another sick kid.

 With as many times as Indiana had made the walk, she was pretty sure she could do it with her eyes closed. Straight, past the forest murals, press the button on the left to open the doors. Then it was the ocean hallway on the left- the blues were peaceful, little sea turtles and fish floating on the walls. At the end, by the jellyfish, was the last door of the pediatric wing. Somehow, it always felt colder past that point, inside the ‘real hospital’. The nurse’s scrubs were plain blue there, the walls taupe and bland with paintings of trees and lakes instead of Winnie the Pooh and Dory. Indiana’s shoes squeaked against the polished floor on her way to the elevator, picking up her pace. She didn’t like this part. It was too familiar, too many memories of walking down the same hallway for much different reasons. Past that it was down two floors, out and to the right to get to the front doors.

As soon as she walked out into the New York city street, it was a breath of fresh air; if you could ever consider city air fresh. Still, she always preferred the smell of exhaust and cigarettes over the bleach that stung her nose inside the hospital. And if she sniffed hard enough and the wind was right, she swore she could smell Jet’s Coffee all the way from the small store that resided three blocks down the road. 

Want anything from Jet’s? She texted Charlie, hoping for a quick response from her sister as she hurried down the sidewalk, pulling her shirt sleeves down over her hands in a bid to ward off the brisk late September air.

Nah, Devin’s making dinner. Should be done by the time you get here. 

Also, where tf is your strainer?

Bottom cabinet by the oven, she answered, shaking her head.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love her sister. She did, with her whole heart. The same went for her sweet almost-brother-in-law Devin- they were both supportive pillars in her life, always there with a listening ear, a warm hug, or life advice.

But god damn did she miss having her apartment to herself sometimes. The peace that came over her when she walked into her cozy apartment, saw the rest of Chelsea through the high windows, her view over the river? Unmatched. It was still there - the fog over the river in the cool autumn mornings, the bustling streets of people wrapped up in their coats - but now, her sister was there too, catching her at the door with the latest story of the day before she could even let out a breath. Charlie could never understand how her younger sister wanted to live alone in college, wanted a place to herself ever since she even knew it was an option. Indiana was the opposite of her in a lot of ways- the older of the two was a social butterfly of sorts who always surrounded herself with people, with loud voices and louder personalities that could keep up with her. She was wild - dropped out of college after her first semester, spent her last dime on a camera so she could grow a photography business from the ground up.

Their mom always said that Indiana was the calm to Charlie’s storm, her little angel who hardly ever cried, who just fit into the family like a perfect final puzzle piece, completing the picture. The puzzle was long forgotten now, disassembled in a box in the attic somewhere collecting dust over the last five years. She didn’t have to wonder if it would make her mom sad - she knew that it would be devastating for her if she were still there to see what had become of the Cross clan.

“There she is, the myth, the legend, thee Indiana Jamie Cross!” 

Caught up in her mind, Indiana didn’t even realize that her autopilot route home had taken her all the way into the door of Jet’s, and she found herself in the familiar lobby when she came to. The walls were charcoal gray, with the delicate little single-line white flowers painted on them that she remembered them putting up a few years ago, back when she worked there. Her old manager, Patrick, beamed at her from behind the counter, wide smile framed out by his ever growing hair.

“What’s she gonna get today, wait don’t tell me, don’t tell me. Today is a… caramel macchiato with one less pump of vanilla? Hot?” He mused, raising his eyebrows in question.

“Oatmilk, then yes, you got it.”

“Of course I was gonna give you oatmilk, what do I look like, an amateur?” He scoffed, shaking his head as she went to reach for her wallet. “It’s on the house today.”

“You can’t give me my coffee on the house every time Patrick, it’s bad for business.” 

“It’s my business, so shush and go wait at the end of the bar like a good customer,” he rolled his eyes, sending the scribbled cup down the line. She rolled her eyes and dropped a few one’s in the tip jar before she went over to her favorite chair, the big blue one by the windows where she could people watch while she waited. She always wondered what people did in small towns while they waited for things, without the bustling streets outside full of people in their own little worlds. 

Her phone buzzed in her lap. Marty. 

Hey girlie, are you busy tomorrow? We’ve got a new orientee who needs the run down, and nobody does it better than you! 

Marty’s speciality was buttering people up. Which explained why Buddies had over 200 volunteers like Indiana - with Marty in charge, it was hard to say no, even if she had planned on spending a chilled out day tomorrow with her sister and Devin.

Fine by me, just let me know what time

Awesome. He didn’t give me a specific time so I’ll just give him your number if you’re good with that.

She sent back a thumbs up as her name was called at the counter, got her coffee and headed out the door.  It was another block to get to her apartment, and when she got there the elevator ride up to the 18th floor was almost as long as the walk. She didn’t mind though. It was her own little welcome home ritual that she’d grown fond of over the last few years of living there. 

As she predicted earlier, when she opened the door, her usually peaceful space was in a bit of chaos. There were four bowls out on the counter, measuring cups everywhere, two pans out in addition to whatever smelled so good in the oven.

“Don’t start Indy, I’m gonna clean it, I promise.” Charlie appeared around the corner, already on the defense of the look she knew she was going to get. It felt a lot like Indiana was the older sister despite the three years that Charlie had on her. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Indiana mumbled under her breath, clearing a small spot on the counter and hopping up.

“It’s all in your face,” Devin teased from in front of the oven. “Scootch, unless you want me to burn you with this casserole dish.” 

She grumbled and hopped down from her much too temporary spot so that he could open the oven, deciding it was probably best to leave the kitchen until everything was done. 

Her kitchen was the only ‘small’ part of her apartment. The rest was plenty big, and she was proud of all she had done over the years to make it her own. The living room was cozy, with a dark gray couch and a reasonable (Charlie would say excessive) amount of decorative pillows and blankets. The shelves on the wall had a few house plants - fake ones, of course, and picture frames that had moved with her each time she called a new place home. The white frame that contained an old picture of her and Charlie as babies, white-blonde hair wispy as they played on the swings in their backyard. The most recent addition was the rose gold frame, a picture of her, Devin and Charlie at their engagement last July in Zion National Park - she could practically feel the heat of the sun every time she looked at it. The last frame stood alone on the smaller shelf, a wooden frame with a small heart carved in the corner. Inside, a black and white picture of her and her mom. She was about one in it, in a little crewneck sweatshirt and tennis shoes, holding onto her mom’s hands as she walked, both of them beaming. She’d been told by so many people over the years that she had “Nicole’s smile”, and she tried her hardest to not cry nowadays if anyone ever mentioned it. 

“You know, our parents weren’t glassmakers, I can’t see through you,” Charlie grumbled from her spot on the couch, gesturing to the TV that her sister was blocking.

“You know, this is my house, you could just leave,” she countered, offering her fakest of smiles.

“You know, Dad pays the rent so it’s not technically yours.”

“Alright, dinner is ready, dinner is ready,” Devin called out, knowing that Charlie had already stepped one toe over the line, desperately trying to keep her from throwing herself fully over the edge.

Charlie popped up to her feet, unfazed by the glare that followed her all the way to the island as she went on to scoop out her pasta. 

Indiana didn’t have the energy to even think about her dad, much less talk about him. Kenneth Cross was a good father when she was little. He was attentive, taught her how to play basketball, how to ride her bike without training wheels. On a paper list, he checked off most of the dad boxes. And then his wife died, and he decided the time was nigh to abandon ship with very little regard for his 16 and 19 year old daughters. But if you asked him, he’d be sure to let you know that he took very good care of his kids, even put up his youngest in a nice New York apartment so she could go to school and not have to work a job. Taking care of things meant throwing money at them, whether it was at work or at home. His best, and only, sign of affection was the direct deposit that hit Indiana’s bank account on the 31st of every month. 

Needless to say, he was a sensitive subject.

She bit back the words she really wanted to spit out and made her way into the kitchen, grabbing her bowl a bit more aggressively than she needed to. As soon as she found her spot back on the counter she stabbed into the soft noodles and shoved them in her mouth, proceeding to burn the shit out of her tongue. 

Lovely.

Devin made small talk as best he could around the awkward tension - he was an only child, and anytime the two sisters fought he tried to fill in the void with anything he could. It always baffled him how the two of them could be pissed one moment, and then back to normal a few seconds later.

“Wanna go shopping tomorrow? And don’t say you have school shit, it’s a Sunday.” Charlie asked.

“A, I always have school shit, and B, I can’t anyways, I’ve got an orientation to do for Buddies.” 

“There’s no way you actually have that much school work to do, I think you’re just trying to avoid us,” she countered. 

“CJ she’s gonna be a doctor, that shit ain’t easy,” Devin piped up, eager to boost his almost sister-in-law up. Indy tried to ignore the little pang of jealousy she always felt when he called her sister that. Charlie Jo. CJ. She’d had her own fair share of nicknames over the years, shortened little versions of her name that everyone liked to use. But Devin was the only one who was allowed to call Charlie CJ, and there was something about the intimacy of it that had Indiana wishing someone was there to give her a cute nickname, just for them.

She held out until Charlie started in on the dishes that she promised to do and then she was headed to her room, social battery depleted. Despite her sister’s doubts, she did always have some form of school work that she could be working on, slowly chipping away at the constant stream of assignments and notes.  She liked to break it down into sections, tackling a certain class each night of the week. Saturdays were her ‘easy’ nights, reserved for reviewing her medical terminology notes and quizzing herself on new terms.

As nerdy as it seemed to anyone else, she actually found it fun. 10 year old her would have thought it was the coolest thing that she actually knew what choleodechojunostomy meant, though she was pretty sure she was never going to actually need to know. 

She was halfway through the abbreviations portion, stuck on the ‘G’ of esophagogastroduodenoscopy when her phone buzzed against her leg. She expected to see a text from Charlie asking her to join in on whatever movie they were watching in the living room, but instead she was met with a new number and an unfamiliar area code - 818. 

Probably spam. She left it alone, moving back to her cards, flipping between as she mumbled them quietly to herself.

“PRN. Pro re nata.”

Buzz

“EEG. Electroencephalography. TIA”

Buzz

“TIA. Transient-”

Buzz

“Jesus,” she huffed, grabbing her phone and swiping it open to her texts, all from that same 818 number.

Hey, Marty gave me your number, I’m your new orientee :)

My name is Grayson btw, probably should have started with that 

She told me to figure out a time with you but I’m p flexible so just let me know

And idk how to get to the pediatric part of the hosp so if you could meet me somewhere else and show me how to get there that would be awesome

Why he couldn’t have sent it all in one text she had no idea, but at least he was nice. She typed back quickly.

Hey! I’m Indiana. We can meet by the front doors if that’s easier, how about 9:30?

She didn’t even have time to pick up her next flashcard before the typing bubble popped back up.

Early riser, I like it. 9:30 is chill, I’ll see you then. Have a good night :)

You too :), she answered, quickly saving his contact as ‘Grayson’ before putting her phone back down on her comforter and diving back into her flashcards. She had 200 more to get through by the end of the night, and all she really wanted to do was get under her covers and go to sleep. By the time she reached the end of the stack, the definitions were just as hard to understand as their latin based counterparts. As soon as she flipped over arthralgia to reveal joint pain, she was moving the pile to her desk, pulling on a t-shirt and curling up in bed.

..............................................................................................................................

Indiana had never been a breakfast eater. She was always too eager to get to school, occasionally running out the door with a granola bar in hand at most at her mom’s request. The trend continued as she got older, though now she used her morning coffee as sustenance for the first few hours of the day. Which was why she found herself walking right back through the glass doors of Jet’s again, a mere 12 hours after her last visit. It smelled like fresh beans and vanilla soy as soon as she made in over the threshold - a comforting smell, familiar and warm. Patrick beamed at her from behind the espresso bar. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a day off.

“I’m paying today, no arguing,” she called out, giving him a serious look until he mouthed ‘fine’ at her over the bar. Satisfied, she pulled out her phone, surprised to see a text. Grayson.

I’m by the front doors on the left. I know im early so no rush :)

She checked the time at the top of her phone. 9:10.

I’m getting coffee and then I’ll be there

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, contemplating. Was it weird to buy coffee for someone you’d never met? She sent another text anyway.

Want anything?

The bubbles popped back up as she stepped up in line.

Biggest cup of the strongest stuff they’ve got please. I’ll shoot you a Venmo for it

She liked his response and slid her phone back in her pocket before she stepped up to the counter. The barista was a new face, someone that had been hired after she had left.

“What can I get started for you?”

“Can I do a 16 ounce vanilla oat milk latte and a 20 ounce dark roast please?”

“Absolutely, that’ll be-”

“Give her the drip for free,” Patrick interjected. “We don’t charge past employees for drip coffee.”

The barista looked a bit flustered but took the dark roast off anyways, quickly spouting off the total and taking the cash that Indiana handed her. She turned around and poured the dark roast, passing it over with a smile. An older man was sitting in the blue chair when Indiana made her way to the other end of the store, so she settled by the bar instead, watching Patrick pump syrup and steam milk in a bit of a sequenced dance. She missed being behind the bar sometimes, but not enough to justify going back and getting talked down to by shitty customers. 

He finished her latte in record time, only having a spare moment to blow her a kiss before he was right back to the next drink. She didn’t mind - the thought of Grayson waiting on her made her nervous. She tried to remind herself that she wasn’t running late. It wasn’t her fault that he liked to show up twenty minutes early to things and she only liked to show up ten minutes early. Ten minutes was reasonable and showed dedication - twenty was a bit excessive. 

The cups kept her hands warm for the three blocks to the hospital, her pace a bit quicker than usual. She kept her eyes peeled for someone who looked like a Grayson once she made it. A tall, lanky man passed by her, headed towards the doors, but he didn’t seem like he was looking for anyone. She remembered the text. Front doors, to the left.

Sure enough, there was someone sitting alone.

He took up about half of the bench, his shoulders broad under a charcoal gray sweater that went well with the olive green of his pants. He looked well put together - a bit intimidating, but nice enough to send someone a have a good night text. He looked like he could be a Grayson. He must have felt her watching him, because he lifted his eyes from his phone and looked directly at her, taking in the two coffee cups in her hands with a smile.

“Indiana?”

His voice was deep, a bit commanding. It made her hesitate for some reason, panic just barely. “Uh yeah, that’s me.” Stupid.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Grayson.”

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone: Chapter 3

Title: Safe and Warm

Warnings: brief mention of child sexual abuse. Very brief.

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @tragiclyhip

“You should have gotten these looked at BEFORE you came home.”

She sits on his stomach; knee on either side of his body and a bottle of peroxide, package of cotton balls, a pair of tweezers, and a tube of healing ointment rest on his chest. With all of the kids finally settled for the night and the house tidied and every last plate, cup and piece of silverware in the dishwasher, it’s finally their turn to relax. A quick soak in the hot tub while sipping drinks; one last glass of wine for her and a coffee for him. Still damp bodies clad in bathrobes as they sat on the couch; eating ice cream straight out of the carton while relaxing in front of the heat and ambiance given off by the gas fireplace. All conversation steering clear away from anything job related. Talking instead about Christmas and all the things that still need to be done; present wrapping, last minute gift grabbing, decorating. The kids also have jam packed ‘to do’ lists; skating, seeing the tree at Rockefeller, sledding, visiting Santa and the reindeer at Central Park. Christmas Day is spent with just the nine of them; the kids playing with their gifts and spending time outside, a traditional dinner that they’ve become quite the professionals at preparing together. The following day they’ll travel into Queens and spend the day with Ovi and Riya and their little family; two ‘grandkids’ that will be loved upon and spoiled senseless. New Years is usually spent quietly at home; takeout and alcoholic beverages and entertaining the kids with board games. This year plans have changed; Ovi’s wedding at The James New York in Soho.

As exciting as the latter is and as much as he does enjoy his time in New York City -the happiness and excitement evident on his wife and children’s faces more than enough to erase any of his own discomfort- it will be nice to get home. Back to their slice of paradise; the sun and the sand and the privacy and the feeling of security that comes with owning so much land. They’ll have a second Christmas; an informal get together with friends with a cookout on the beach and a ‘Secret Santa’ gift exchange. Work will be put on the back burner; no calls or emails from clients returned until the kids go back to school, the bookstore in good hands under the supervision of the two college students Esme had hired a year ago. Business has been good; exceeding even her wildest dreams and expectations. Already a well loved staple in Cooktown; customers loving the wide array of books and magazines, the outdoor courtyard and the comfortable couches and chairs allotted for those simply there to relax. Reading their purchases or the kindles set up for free use and indulging in the variety of cold and hot drinks and baked goods. The treats are mostly prepared by Tanner who has become quite the little chef and baker; finding his ‘place’ in the kitchen and never happier than when he’s creating some kind of dish or dessert from scratch. He’s also in charge of biweekly book reviews; picking a title to read and then preparing a well written report to go along with it. He’s become quite the local celebrity because of it; fan mail arriving on the daily from kids all over town and those who may have visited during family travels.

If anyone had told Tyler thirteen years ago that he’d even still be alive, let alone living THIS life, he would have told them they were insane. Laughing off the notion at ever being a husband and a father again; too much of a mess and certainly way too much of a liability for anyone to ever take a chance on. It’s weird how quick things can change. How one chance meeting with someone as equally broken and damaged as you can change the entire course of your future. Looking at you in ways that no one has ever has; willing to take on the enormous amounts of baggage and seeing past all your faults and your rough spots and jagged edges and giving you a future you never imagined even in your wildest dreams.

“There wasn’t a reason to get them looked after. They’re just scratches; branches getting a hold of me when I was in the bush.”

“Some of them are pretty deep. And I know you tried when you were in the shower, but there’s stuff stuck in some of them. Dirt or wood or something. Aren’t they sore?”

“They’re SCRATCHES. I’ve had a hell of a lot worse.”

“They’re a mess is what they are.” She picks up the tweezers; eyes narrowing as she leans over him and plucks pieces of debris out of one of the wounds. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t things supposed to go down in the city?”

“They did. In Laos.”

“I thought it was going to be the same in Cambodia. You let me read what Anil sent you. I’m pretty sure things were supposed to happen in Phnom Penh? How’d you end up going from there into the jungle?”

“There was a change of plans.”

She smirks. “Obviously.”

“You know how it is, things don’t always go the way we want.”

“I’d say nine times out of ten, they don’t. Seriously though, your face is a wreck. You should have gotten this all cleaned up hours ago. BEFORE you got on a plane home. What if they get infected? You don’t know what’s in that jungle. They could have some crazy poisonous plant life or something. What if you got into something like THAT?”

“I think it’s safe to say we’d know something like that by now. What are you so squeamish about? You’ve seen me in worse shape.”

“Now THAT’S an understatement. Have you ever thought I just don’t like seeing you banged up and scratched up? Have you ever thought maybe I’ve had just about enough of all of that? Can’t I nurse you back to health from something else for a change? Like...I don’t know...the man flu?”

“You always complain when I get sick. That I’m too needy.”

“I have never once said you’re too needy. I have, however, complained about how whiny you get. How you come down with a head cold and act like you’re dying. How do you go through the things you have and survive what you’ve survived, and think a cold will be the cause of your demise?”

“Hey, those colds get pretty bad.”

“Worse than…” Pausing, she sits straight up and drops the tweezers onto the bed, then soaks a cotton ball with peroxide. “...you know what? I’m not even going to finish that sentence because that will only bring bad juju. Talking about all of that? Revisiting it? Nothing good will come of that. And we need good juju, don’t you think?”

“Are you drunk?”

“Who? Me? No. Maybe. Just a little. Is a whole bottle of wine for oneself considered drunk?”

“For normal people, yeah. For you…”

“Look, I had a rough day. In fact, it’s been a brutal FOUR days. And right now? Well right now, I should be getting laid. Or at the very least, have my husband going down on me. And what I’m doing? Playing nursemaid. And not in a fun, sexy way either. Not the kind of playing nursemaid that comes with little outfits and orgasms.”

He grins. “You ARE drunk.”

“I’m just saying, I had other plans for this evening and picking pieces of the Cambodian jungle out of your face wasn’t part of it.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Mmm...hmmm…”

“And I’d rather be doing other stuff too, but…”

“But the shit hit the fan and everything got fucked up and you ended up doing God knows what, doing God knows where. I’m not even going to ask how it went. I think I’m scared to hear the answer. It was obviously a dumpster fire if you went from the capital city of Cambodia to the bowels of hell.”

“There were a couple...snags.”

She returns to the task of investigating and cleaning the various scratches that mar his face and neck. “Anil let on everything went great.”

“Probably just didn’t want to worry you.”

“Was there something for me to worry about?”

“Not as far as I’m concerned. I’ve been involved in way worse things. It was pretty straight forward. Two easy hits.”

“First one went okay?”

“Exactly the way it should have.”

“Second one?”

“I thought you weren’t going to ask?”

“You don’t want me asking?”

“I don’t care if you ask. You just said you weren’t going to because you were afraid of what you might hear.”

“Do I have anything to be afraid of?”

“Esme, seriously? Do you want to know or not? It wasn’t THAT bad. I’m here, aren’t I? In one piece?”

She nods.

“It honestly wasn't that big of a disaster. Things got a little fucked up. The second one didn’t go the way it should have. I had to make some decisions; change some shit around. The Mark wasn’t where he was supposed to be. I had to find out where he was and I had to figure out how to make things work.”

“Well good thing it WAS you that Anil asked. Because it probably would have been a lot worse. At least you know what you’re doing; you can think on your feet and stay calm and focused. A change like that? That would have thrown other people off. They probably wouldn’t have been able to get the second guy. They would have been too frazzled. That kind of change would have totally thrown them off.”

“Are you speaking highly of me, wife?”

“I am. I tend to speak very highly of you. All the time. To everyone. Even when I’m picking pieces of Cambodia out of your face.” She grabs the tweezers and unceremoniously inserts the tips into a large scratch at the side of his left eye; yanking out a piece of wood. “And it’s a nice face, by the way. So I don’t particularly like you coming home all messed up.”

“Like I said, I’ve had worse.”

“I will give you that.”

They lapse into a comfortable, companionable silence; his hands resting on her thighs as she continues to work at disinfecting and cleaning the scratches and her fingertips rub wound aftercare ointment into his skin. And he admires her as she does so. That steely look of determination on her face; lips set in a thin line and her eyes slightly narrowed and her hands steady yet gentle. And she looks so beautiful in that moment; in the mixture of moonlight and the glow given off by the bedside lamps. Hair pushed into a messy ‘up sweep’; held together by various clips -colourful and unicorn themed, ‘borrowed’ from Addie’s room- and bobby pins. Her face freshly cleaned and scrubbed; bearing the lingering scent of the grapefruit and pomegranate body wash she’d fallen in love with months ago. Clad in what she considers pyjamas; a faded and slightly tattered plaid button down shirt he’d worn during their Colorado days that is enormous on her tiny frame.

It’s been just over twelve years. Since he’d first laid eyes on her; standing on his front porch in The Kimberley in her little denim shorts and that yellow tank top that clung to her like a second skin. He’d known right away that he was in trouble; feeling things he hadn’t felt in a hell of a long time when she so much glanced in his direction and offered a small, almost nervous smile. And it would take him nearly ten years to admit what she’d probably known not long after their initial meeting: that his heart was hers from the very first day.

“You’re beautiful.” He says now, and a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“Are YOU drunk?”

“I haven’t drank in five years. I’m truthful.”

“Maybe your eyesight is worse than you think,” she teases, and dabs a peroxide dampened cotton ball against the scratches on his forehead.

“Or maybe you just hate compliments. Even twelve years into things.”

“You know I don’t handle compliments well. Even now. I know that doesn’t make sense, considering we HAVE been together that long and you’re the master of compliments and sweet talk, but that’s just who I am. It’s just me.”

“I will break you yet.”

“You’ve been trying for over a decade. Same way you’ve been trying to make an honest woman out of me.”

“Come on, at least give me THAT. At least admit THAT was successful.”

“Fine…” she leans down to peck his lips. “I’ll let you have your small victories. You’re still going out tomorrow? With Tanner?”

He nods. “It’s our thing.”

“He’s so excited. He’s been talking about it non stop since we got here. Apparently he’s been writing a lot. He’s got A LOT to show you.”

“Yeah, he told me. Something about crazy dreams he’s been having. He’s so fucking smart, Me. Way smarter than I am. He’s got your brain pan for sure.”

“He is far more intelligent than I ever was at that age. His brain is just...I don’t know. It’s beautiful and it’s brilliant. And it’s kind of scary at the same time. I mean, he’s only ten. And look where he’s at. Not even a special school is a big enough challenge for him. He is so far ahead of all of those kids. What happens when he’s too far ahead? When that place doesn’t have what he needs anymore? Then what? He’s already reading at a high school senior level. And his math? His science? You’ve seen his marks. They’ve got him doing things that fourteen and fifteen year olds are learning. And he’s passing it all with flying colours. Soon they’re not going to have what he needs. What then?”

“We find somewhere else.”

“Where? There’s nothing where we are. And we’re not moving. We just aren’t. We’ve put way too much into that house and that land. And we love it too much. So do the kids. We can’t upset their lives like that.”

“We’ll figure something out. We’ll find something. Someone. There’s always a way, right? Isn’t that what you always tell me? Where there’s a will, there’s a way?”

“When I told you that I wasn’t expecting to have a genius child on my hands. And I know it sounds like I’m bitching. That it sounds like I’m not proud of him.”

“It doesn’t sound like that, Me. At all.”

“Because I am. Proud of him. He’s insanely smart and he’s beautiful and he’s just this incredible little being that I don’t feel I even deserve. But I’m scared. For him. Because he isn’t like everyone else. He never has been. And I know we should celebrate that and celebrate who he is and nurture it and encourage it. But it fucking terrifies me. Someone like Tanner out in the real world. Because he’s NOT like us. Or his brothers and sisters. Or ninety five percent of society. He’s sensitive and he’s kind and he has this huge heart. And I’m scared what’s going to happen to him. Just for being who he is.”

“He’s ten, Me. We have years before we have to worry about anything like that. It’s going to be a long time before he’s out of the house. He’s smart as hell, but you’re right; he’s not like everyone else. Maturity wise? He’s a lot younger. He’s not ten in a lot of ways. He’s going to be with us for a bit. Longer than the rest of them.”

“I just don't want him hating who he is. I don’t want him growing up and hating himself. He’s already told you that. About how he doesn’t like his brain and how it works. How he doesn’t like being different.”

“That’s mostly when he’s pissed that he can’t do the things that TJ does. Or because he’s so much smaller. He has his moments; where he wishes he was like his brother. Didn’t you have moments like that growing up? Wishing you could be someone different?”

“Of course. We all do. I’m sure you did.”

“Fuck, practically every damn day. He’s going to be fine, Me. He’s just a little boy. And he’ll be a little boy in some ways for longer. It is what it is. He’ll be okay. So will we.”

“You are so much better at this than I am,” Esme laments, and tends to screwing the cap onto the peroxide and moving all of the supplies and tools to the mattress. “You’re so much better with him. You have been since the very beginning. Who was the strong one when we got the diagnosis? Who was the one that DIDN’T go into a severe depression and the seven stages of grief? I mean, we suspected it and I STILL had a hard time. I’m his mother. And I struggled then and I’m struggling now. What kind of parent does that? FEELS that?”

“One that loves their kid more than life itself. Who worries about them and is scared for them because they know how fucking cruel the world can be.”

“You’ve just been so much better than I have. You’ve handled it better. Me? I’m just a mess. And not a hot one either.”

“I think you’re way too hard on yourself. You’re a good mom. You’re an amazing mom. Just because you’re having a hard time with this doesn’t mean you’re a shitty parent. Just means you love him.”

“I do. Love him. He’s my Nugget. And I hate that he struggles. That he doubts himself. That he shit talks himself sometimes.”

“Gee, I wonder where he gets THAT from.”

Smirking, she picks up the tweezers and points them at him. “Don’t make me stick these in your eye.”

“I’m just saying…” he plucks the instrument from her hand and tosses it onto the bedside table, then reaches up to push loose strands of her away from her face. “...he does get some things from you. And you do like to shit talk yourself.”

“I’m working on it.”

“For the last twelve years?”

“So I’m a slow learner. Slow and steady wins the race, right? Why are you like this?”

His calloused palms rest on the sides of her face; thumbs brushing along the tops of her cheekbones. “Like what?”

“So good to me. Why are you like that?”

“Oh I don’t know, Me. Might have to do with the fact that you’re my wife and the mother of my children. My SEVEN children. And maybe...just maybe...it has something to do with the fact that I’m wildly and crazily in love with you.”

“Still? Even after twelve years?”

“Even MORE after twelve years. More and more every day, actually.”

“God I love you,” she declares, then stretches out along his body and buries her face in the favourite place of hers; the warm nook between neck and shoulder. “I love you so much. More than I could ever tell you.”

Pressing a kiss to her temple, he wraps both arms around her slender body. “Ditto.”

She laughs at his response; placing a kiss to the sensitive spot below his ear and then pushes her fingers through his hair. It’s longer now. Often messy and often unruly; sides and back no longer shaved right down to the skin. She claims it’s her second favourite look of his; liking the fact that there’s something to ‘grab onto’ during more intimate moments.

He feels the tickle or her lashes as her eyes flicker closed, followed by the long, content sigh that she releases. And for several long minutes they lay in silence, one of his hands moving up to comb through her hair, the other slipping under the hem of her shirt; knuckles repeatedly skimming up and down her spine.

“Me?”

“Yeah?” Her voice is muffled against the side of his neck.

“Don’t take this the wrong way. I really DO like snuggling with you and all that. But right now? Right now I’m really horny and I really want to fuck.”

Laughing, she playfully tugs on his hair and pulls back to look at him. “Husband, you’re nothing if not brutally honest.”

“Wanna have sex?”

Grinning, she leans in to press a kiss to his lips. “Actually,” she says. “I do.”

****

They lay in a tangled mess of wrinkled sheets and sweaty limbs; listening to the wind that rattles the windows and the soft patter of ice pellets and snow against the glass. Both on their sides with her back tucked into his front; her nails lightly and repeatedly skimming along the forearm that rests just under her breasts. His breath is warm against the nape of her neck and she enjoys the different sensations against her skin; the juxtaposition of soft, moist lips and the roughness of his beard. He wears it much shorter now; neatly trimmed and groomed and a far cry from the ‘lumberjack days’ when they’d lived in Colorado. Back when his body was thicker; extra weight around the middle and his muscles more bulky. He’s much more defined now. Tall and lean and athletic; broad shoulders and wide back, a sharp cut to his waist and beautifully detailed abs.

Forty seven years old and he’s in the best shape he’s ever been; a near mirror image of what he’d looked like at thirty five when they’d first met. She remembers that day well. Glancing up from where she’d crouched down on the porch to shower attention on his dog and finding those blue eyes riveted on her; intense and electric and filled with both curiosity and thinly veiled annoyance. He wasn’t used to company, and certainly didn’t seem to like the idea of a complete stranger being brought straight to his doorstep.

Nik had told her just the bare minimum; ex special forces, a host of personal baggage and addiction issues, intense and withdrawn at his best. But word travels when you’re in the ‘circle’; the job a relatively tight knit considering the amount of people caught up in it and the number of countries that are serviced. She’d heard the stories; tales of fearlessness and brutality and exceptional skills. And while she’d thought Nik’s idea was ridiculous and that it would never work, she’d been intrigued as well; wanting to put a face to the name and to all the rumours and the whispers she’d been subjected to. Other than his towering height and those muscles that strained under the sleeves of his shirt and the host of tattoos and scars, he hadn’t been that intimidating; offering just a brief twitch of the lips in lieu of a smile, his hand engulfing hers when he quickly and willing shook it in greeting. There was something welcoming about him despite the lack of conversation; opening up a little as soon as Nik stepped outside and offering her a drink. Those eyes ever so slightly sparkling and a small smirk on his lips when she’d downed the glass of scotch; making a comment about being surprised a ‘wee thing like her’ could handle her liquor so well and then pouring her another. Even chuckling a little when she’d commented on his place of residence; modest and simple, a chicken probably a far better roommate than any human she’d ever shared living quarters with.

Things had actually started during the two day stay just outside of Dhaka; a high end hotel that Nik had procured for final team meetings and strategy sessions. Meeting up -by sheer chance and not by plan- at the establishment's bar; sharing both a table out on the patio and pitcher of beer and tray full of tequila shots. There’d also been a kiss. Or, as close to a kiss as you could get. When he’d walked her back to her room and they’d stood in the hallway; slightly inebriated and suddenly somewhat anxious and nervous around each other. Dinner had been casual and comfortable. He’d smiled and even laughed and teased her about being a total enigma; so small and delicate looking despite her time in the Corps and having such a reputation for being tenacious and no nonsense. They had shared stories of growing up in Colorado and Australia and he’d been relatively talkative; either encouraged by her own openness and chattiness or the mixture of the booze he’d consumed and the meds he’d taken. Yet suddenly they were both at a loss for words and things seemed awkward and uncomfortable, and she’d stuttered and stammered while asking him if he’d like to join her inside and then furiously blushing when he’d exactly accepted.

She can still remember what it had felt like; when she’d drunkenly teetered and stumbled when attempting to unlock her door and his arm had curled around her waist to keep her on her feet. His body had been warm and solid against hers; breath hot and moist on the back of her neck. His eyes had been locked on hers when she turned to face him, heart hammering in her chest as he leaned in to kiss her. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man. Even something so simple as a kiss. And it had been even longer since she’d wanted someone that badly; physically aching and desperate to feel his hands and his mouth on her.

But it had never happened. In a brief moment of clarity, he’d backed away. Doing nothing more than pushing her hair behind her ears before backing away.

“I can’t do this,” he’d said. “I can’t do this to you.”

They never spoke of that moment again. Not even when things had crossed that line in Dhaka. It’s been just over twelve years and neither have brought it up. It didn’t matter anymore; the awkwardness they’d felt, the glimmer of life that she’d seen in his eyes, the words that he’d uttered. Things had changed. Drastically. Marriage and children and a somewhat happily ever after.

His free arm slips between her and the mattress. Coming to rest along her collarbone; fingers splayed over the top of her right breast, thumb repeatedly brushing along the hollow of her throat. “You alright?”

Smiling, she pushes her fingers through his and moves their joined hands down to her stomach. “More than alright. You? You okay?”

“I’m good. Is that what you wanted? Did I live up to your expectations?”

“Exceeded them, actually. I continue to be impressed by you. Your track record for incredible sex is almost a hundred percent.”

He raises his head from his pillow. “Almost?”

“You keep forgetting about that time after Kyle’s bachelor party. When you were drunk. When you got off and I didn’t and then had the goddamn gall to pass out. On top of me. Your poor little wife that’s a foot shorter and at that time, over a hundred pounds lighter.”

“Not one of my finer moments,” he agrees, and presses a kiss to her cheek. “I haven’t made up for it? It’s been ten years since that. I haven’t made amends yet?”

“You’re getting there,” she teases, and then yelps and giggles when his teeth sink into her shoulder. “By the way, I think the neighbour knows you’re here.”

“You know what I’m surprised about? That the kids didn’t wake up.”

“Maybe they’ve gotten so used to it, they just sleep through it now.”

“Or maybe they’re hiding under their covers, totally traumatized.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t be so good at what you do. Maybe you shouldn’t be the king of multiple orgasms. Screaming ones at that.”

“You’d rather I didn’t get you off at all?”

“Don’t get carried away. We don’t need to go to THAT big of an extreme.”

“We can resort back to a pillow over the face. Or my hand over your mouth.”

“Remember that time in Dhaka? When the people in the next room complained to the manager about the noise? He was so embarrassed; when he came up to our room.”

“I do. And I remember the first time we went to Phuket. I never introduced myself to the people in the next suite, but they seemed to know my first name.”

“They were just jealous. I guess neither of them ever experienced really good sex. And speaking of which; we’re going to have to change the sheets before we go to sleep.”

“You can sleep on that part. That’s YOUR wet spot. On YOUR side of the bed.”

“You’re the one who made it happen. You should be the one to clean up the mess.”

He grins against the nape of her neck. “It’s a good mess though.”

“A very good mess,” she says, and then rolls over to face him; pressing herself tightly against his chest and reaching up to push her fingers through his hair. “You alright?”

“Fine. Why?” He skims her fingertips along the length of her spine; pausing to trace the tattoo that decorates the small of her back before moving back up again. “Didn’t it seem like I was alright? Did I seem like I wasn’t having fun?”

“I can tell something’s wrong. You’re different; during sex. When something is bothering you, you do things differently. Not in a BAD way. Just in a different way. You’re more aggressive. Rougher than usual.”

“You okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No. You never do. It was perfect. YOU were perfect. It was just...different. You were different. I’ve been with you for twelve years. It’s one of the signs I’ve come to recognize; one of the things that change when something is bugging you.”

Tyler grins. “You’re good.”

“Are you going to tell me? What’s going on? You want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” he admits, and then presses a kiss to her forehead before rolling over onto his back.

“I think you should.” Esme slides closer to him, propping herself up onto her elbow. “I think it’s good for you; talking about things that bother you. We’ve learned over the last twelve years, right? That things are better...that WE’RE better...when you don’t keep shit inside.”

Sighing heavily, he runs both hands over his face; wincing at the discomfort in both back and shoulder when he puts his hands behind his head.

“Is that what is? Pain? Did you get hurt? Do you need more meds? Do you…?”

“No pain. Just some tightness. I don’t need any more meds. I’m fine.”

“Did you take them while you were gone? ALL of them?”

“Babe, I’ve been taking them for five years. I wouldn’t fuck it up now.”

“I’m not saying you would. I’m just worried about you. I know something is wrong and I know it’s better for you NOT to keep quiet about it. So tell me. Please. Do your wife a solid and talk to her.”

“Didn’t I just slip you a solid? Twice?”

She scowls. “You know what I mean.”

“It’s nothing. Me. Nothing you need to worry about.”

“I’m sorry, but this is something involving you and I worry about you. Don’t do this, okay? Let’s not get back into old habits. I know you don’t want that. Just like I don’t want it. Tell me. Please.”

He sighs once more, briefly closing his eyes.

“Is it the job?” Gentle fingertips trace the roman numeral tattoo on the front of his right shoulder. “ Did something go wrong? Other than a change in venue?”

“No. Other than that, things went fine.”

“But it IS about the job.”

Tyler nods.

“I’m not a mind reader, babe. I’m good, but I’m not THAT good. Something DID go wrong, didn’t it.”

“No. Nothing went wrong. It’s just...the people...the Marks.”

“They didn’t die or…?”

“Oh they died. You don’t survive a gunshot in the middle of the forehead.”

“So other than the chance of scenery, nothing went wrong and both Marks died but..”

“It’s who they were. Why they had to be killed. Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“I do. Because it’s bothering you and I don’t want you carrying that around. That’s never a good thing; you burying things. So yes. I want to hear it. You didn’t tell me much before you left; just that they were pieces of shit and they needed to be wiped out. Other than that…”

“They were the lowest of the low, Me. You can’t get lower than these guys. And I’ve dealt with some pretty huge pieces of shit. These guys? Worst I’ve ever gone against. By far.”

“Worse than Asif and Mahajan?”

“Considering how personal they made things and what they were going to do to my family, no one is worse than them. But if I take the personal stuff out of it, these guys are up there.”

“That doesn’t sound too promising. I didn’t think anyone could come close to those two.”

“The guns and the drugs? That shit was bad enough. They destroyed a lot of lives; killed a lot of people. But the shit I found AFTER I got there? About these guys? About other things they were up to? It’s fucked, Me. It’s fucked and it’s sick and twisted and I don’t think you need to know about it.”

“Well I think I do. You don’t have to shoulder this alone. It’s better if you don’t. Just tell me. I have big shoulders. Well, maybe not LITERALLY. What did you hear? About them?”

“Babe…”

“Tyler, tell me. Don’t do this. Not if you have plans on getting laid the rest of the time we’re here.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh I would. I’m not afraid to pull out the big guns. So either you tell me, or you suffer. Simple as that.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

“Tell me.” She presses a kiss to his lips. “Please.”

“When I got there and talked to the guy who hired Anil, things got worse. The Marks were even bigger pieces of shit than I thought. They’d both been married a handful of times. And put each one of their wives in the hospital. More than twice. A couple of them even ended up dead. There was never any proof that these guys did it, but…”

“But it’s pretty obvious.”

Tyler nods. “And then I heard about the kids. Not just kids they didn’t know. But kids related to them. Cousins, nieces, nephews. Their OWN kids.”

“Just beaten on them or…?”

“No. Not just beating on them. That’s bad enough. But this?”

“Sexual stuff.”

“Yeah. Sexual stuff.”

“Wow..” she sighs heavily, a fingertip skimming along the chain he wears around his neck. “...that IS the lowest of the low.”

“It just hit home. HARD. Made me think of you and the kids. Made being away from home a lot more difficult. And it was difficult enough already.”

“I’m sorry. That you had to hear all of that. But for it’s worth, I’m glad it’s you that took care of them. Anyone else ran the risk of screwing shit up. At least when you do things, you finish them That’s a bright spot, right? That you DID get to be the one?”

“Yeah, I guess. Just fucked me up. Mentally. Made me think of our kids. I swear to God, Me. If anything like that ever happens to them...if I ever find out that someone has touched them like that? I will fucking lose it. I will snap and I will fuck them up. I will torture them in all the worst ways possible. The most painful ways I know how. And then I’ll kill them. With my bare hands. If anyone ever messes with my kids…”

“Don’t think about that, Tyler. Don’t torture yourself like that. I mean, I think about it too. From time to time. And how I’d go nuts and kill someone. But don’t dwell on it, okay? Because our kids are fine. They’re warm and they're safe in their beds. And they always will be safe as long as you’re around. You know I always say you make me feel safe and protected? Well you do the same for them. You always have. Don’t ever doubt that, okay? They love you and they trust you. And you’re an amazing daddy.”

“I just want them to be safe. That’s all I want. Them safe. YOU safe.”

“And we ARE. Safe. As long as we’re with you, we’re fine. We don’t worry about a damn thing when you’re around. So please…” Esme presses a kiss to his cheek and nuzzles the end of her nose against his ear. “...no more dwelling. You got it out; you talked about it. You don’t need to think about it anymore.”

Running his hand through her hair, he tangles his fingers in the dark tresses and gently pulls her head back; lips covering hers in a long, slow kiss.

“Mmm…” she murmurs into his mouth, then sighs happily when he pulls away. “...that was...nice.”

“That was very nice.”

“You think you have one more in you? I still have some expectations that need to be met.”

“I think I can manage.”

“Good.” She throws her arms around his neck and rolls onto her back, kissing him hungrily as she pulls him down on top of her. Nails digging into his skin and her legs wrapping around his waist; ankles locking at the small of his back and a devilish grin playing on her lips when he pulls back to look at her. “Husband, you need to make love to me again.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

[argylemnwrites]

Why Are We Still Waiting? - Chapter 1

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment universe, about 21 months after that epilogue, about 8 months since the prologue)

Word Count: ~4400

Rating: PG-13 (language)

Summary: A new member of the family arrives, and both Drake and Riley reflect on how much things have changed over the past 3 years.

Author’s Note: Let’s try this again, shall we? Sorry for the delay between the prologue and this chapter, but I’m much happier with the character arcs I’ve got planned now, and I think you all will enjoy the story more, too. To catch up on this series, you can check out the It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment masterlist (link in bio).

It was a quiet night in the Kensington neighborhood of Brooklyn. Anderson was curled up in his armchair, dozing lightly after his evening walk. The TV was on, the eleven o’clock news about to start any moment, and Drake was settled onto the couch, ready to watch, no matter how much Riley teased him about being “an old man” for still using the television to get his news. She was stretched out on the couch next to him, her toes tucked under his thigh. She was finishing up her work for the day, reviewing the twitter buzz for the reopening of a restaurant that hired the PR firm she worked for after a video of the former head chef going on a racist tirade surfaced. It was boring, average, and incredibly routine. It was the type of evening Drake enjoyed the most.

He knew Riley saw nights in like this as their “catch up” nights, but honestly, Drake looked forward to them a lot. Sure, in the more than two years he’d lived in New York, he’d come to find many things he loved about the city. The variety of food available at hole-in-the-wall restaurants was amazing, and the portion sizes and prices were always right. The mind games and backstabbing of court were replaced with direct, blunt friendships with Luke, Sunil, Caleb, and Omar, men he’d gotten to know at some of his different temp postings before he got hired on as a permanent employee at the law firm three months ago. And sure, it’s not like he had some great passion for reviewing and cataloging court filings and documents, but it paid the bills. And no one in his life judged him for it.

After Riley had earned her degree, she’d talked a lot about the two of them starting to save up for him to go back to school, researching which universities would take some or all of his previously-earned credits. But at some point, Drake realized that wasn’t really something he wanted. When he’d been younger, leaving Cordonia to get a Bachelor’s degree had felt like a way to establish himself as his own person, independent from the pressure of Court, separate from Liam. But now, he lived in a different city. He had a fiancée and a steady job and his own life already. He didn’t need a degree or a university experience to gain that independence.

And truth be told, with the variety of office jobs he’d held when he was still temping, he was pretty convinced that any career opportunities he could gain from having a university degree would not be jobs he actually wanted, or at least not ones he wanted any more than what he had now. He didn’t want to toil away at some corporate bullshit, striving just to inch up that ladder to get that next promotion. Plus, it turned out he was about as well-suited for office politics as he’d been for courtly politics, which probably shouldn’t have been a surprise. Additionally, if he went back to school, they would have to pay for six semesters, not just two like they’d had to for Riley. Earning that degree just seemed like a total waste of time and money.

Instead, they were slowly saving up for a variety of things these days. Their real honeymoon, not their would-be honeymoon they went on after they postponed their wedding. A road trip out to the West Coast. A bigger apartment for when they had kids. In all honesty, it turns out that he didn’t so much care what his job was. He wasn’t like Liam who found purpose and satisfaction from his work. Nor was he going to be like Maxwell and turn some zany endeavor into an honest-to-god career writing made-for-TV movies. And he did not have anywhere near the skill set and connections that Hana had, allowing her to open a international bakery chain that turned all its profits into disaster relief donations or grants and low interest small business loans for women in impoverished countries. If his job was able to allow him to take care of those he loved, he was happy enough. Taking care of his family and spending time with them was always going to be the most important thing to him. 

His family was on his mind often these days. Savannah was just over two weeks from her due date, and Drake was excited to actually get to know his niece or nephew from the start this time. He and Riley had a trip out to Cordonia scheduled next month, soon enough after the due date that they would get to meet the baby early, but not so early that they would be totally unwelcome visitors. Riley could only get one week off, but Drake was staying for an extra week after she left to spend a little more time with his niece or nephew. He figured it was Savannah’s way of trying to make up for all the time he missed with Bartie when he was little. Regardless, he was looking forward to meeting the second baby Beaumont.

In general, life was just good at the moment. Honestly, things had been good for a while. It was a feeling Drake had never imagined experiencing so consistently. But his life was stable, he knew he and Riley were on a good path, and he had a handful of close friends, both in the city and in Cordonia. His job was tolerable for the pay he earned. He really didn’t feel like he could ask for much more. So he watched the news with a smile on his face, as Riley sat next to him, replying to the occasional tweet.

By the time the newscast got to weather, Drake was yawning. He knew it would just provide more ammo for Riley to tease him about being old, but he couldn’t help it. It was a weeknight, it was late, and he got up before she did.

“Is it bedtime at the retirement home?” she quipped almost on cue, her eyes not leaving her phone screen as she nudged him with her foot.

Drake just shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. You coming to bed soon?”

Riley shrugged. “Not right away. In a little bit.”

He nodded as he stood up, dropping a kiss to her forehead as he passed on his way to the bathroom and bedroom.

“Wait, you forgot your phone,” Riley called out. He spun and saw her extending her arm back over the arm of the couch toward him, her eyes still glued on her own screen. He stepped forward to grab it, but it started buzzing in her hand, clearly startling her as she let out a little yelp and brought the phone forward to see who was calling.

“Why is Maxwell calling you at… 6:25 in the morning?” she asked, quickly doing the time zone math.

He just shrugged as he took the phone from her and swiped to answer the call. “Maxwell, what are you doing up?”

“Break out the cigars! It’s a girl!”

It took Drake a few seconds to mentally catch up to Maxwell’s statement. “Wait, you mean Savannah-”

“Had the baby? Yup! Just under 3 kilos and screaming up a storm,” said Maxwell with a chuckle, “They’re still deciding on a name, but I think it’ll be Caroline Annabelle Beaumont. At least that’s what they were leaning to when I stepped out to give them some privacy and give you a call.”

“I thought someone was going to call me when she went into labor?”

“Well… Savannah kind of forbid anyone from calling you. She said that you would just worry too much and would be blowing up her phone when she needed to be focused on other things. She pointed out that it wouldn’t really make a difference, either, with you being in the Big Apple.”

Drake shook his head and sank back onto the couch. “Unreal.”

“Hey, I vouched for you, man! I told her that you would be fine, but her word was kind of final, you know? Given the situation and all. Anyway, she promised she’d give you a call when it was all over.”

“So why are you the one calling me then?”

“Ouch, I’m hurt. I thought we were best friend roomies!” Maxwell said with a ton of dramatic flair. Drake could practically picture him clutching his shirt in mock pain.

“That’s not…” he started with an eye roll, “What I meant was, why isn’t Savannah calling me to share the news herself?”

“She… well… she had to be rushed back for an emergency c-section.”

“What?” Drake felt his heart rate pick up instantly, even though he knew in his mind that whatever had been the danger was likely resolved at this point.

“Yeah… I had stepped out to the hallway with Dad when they were checking to see how, er… dilated she was, when suddenly the midwife was calling out ‘Cord!’ and in an instant there were dozens of staff running into her room.”

“And you’re just now telling me?” Drake growled out. He felt Riley’s hand on his knee. He knew he should probably put the phone on speaker so that Riley could hear more than one half of this conversation, but he was too focused on not missing any details to risk pulling the phone away from his ear.

“It all happened so quickly. One second she was joking with me in between contractions, the next she was being wheeled out of the room and a nurse was explaining to Bertrand the gear he was going to have to put on to go into the OR. Before Dad and I could even figure out what was going on, Bertrand was back and told us it was a girl.”

“He left her alone during everything?” 

“Apparently, the only risk was to the baby, not to Savannah, but since she was attempting natural labor, they had to knock her out, I guess? Anyway, he was with her when she woke up, holding their little girl. I don’t know, the details kind of went over my head, but everyone is happy and healthy now!”

Drake just let out a massive sigh as he ran a hand over his face. It was a lot to process, but he didn’t think Maxwell would have told him all this info and then lied about Savannah and the baby being okay. He sometimes still felt strange, choosing to live so far away from his sister and Liam. He knew it wasn’t rational. He had certainly been more supportive to Savannah through this pregnancy than her first since he actually knew she was pregnant this time, but part of him felt guilty anytime something major happened and he wasn’t right there.

They were thoughts he didn’t like bringing up with Riley, because he wasn’t sure how to phrase it so that it didn’t sound like he resented her for the fact that he lived in a different country. He just had this feeling it would come across that way, when that wasn’t how he felt at all. But trying to work through the storm of emotions that bubbled up whenever something major happened to his friends or family in Cordonia when Maxwell had called to just let him know he had a niece was probably not the wisest decision. So, he swallowed his emotions down and focused on the good news. His sister had a little girl and it sounded like everyone was fine now.

“Well, tell Savannah and Bertrand congratulations and that I’ll call them in the morning here, alright? And thanks for calling me to let me know.”

“Of course! It’s my duty as part of our uncle brotherhood!”

“Don’t think for a second I’m going to start using that phrase, Maxwell.”

“I’ll convince you yet; you’ll see.”

Drake just shook his head as he said, “Bye, Maxwell.”

“Bye, Drake. Send my love to Riley. And prepare for a barrage of photos from yours truly.”

Drake placed his phone on the couch next to him and let out a sigh before facing Riley. Her phone was now tucked away somewhere as she stared at him, eyes wide and full of concern.

“What happened?”

“Savannah had the baby. A little girl.”

“What had you upset?”

“There were some complications, but he says everything’s fine now.”

Riley snaked her arms around him and gave him a little squeeze. “I’m sure it is. Is he gonna send some pictures?”

Drake nodded, and Riley curled up fully next to him on the couch, leaning her head against his shoulder, waiting for the photos of his niece. Their niece. Kind of.

He glanced down at the ring on her left hand that rested on his knee. Not for the first time, he wondered if they made the right call postponing their wedding for Savannah’s sake. It didn’t feel fair, that Bertrand and Savannah had it all - married with two kids - while they had put plans on pause. And sure, both Savannah and Bertrand had thanked them profusely. But watching as they moved forward with their lives while he and Riley had to plan and save and budget all over again just left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Sometimes, it felt like he should have just told his sister just how insane her ask was. He and Riley would have been married for almost eight months by this point. Maybe they would be talking about starting their own family. But deep down, Drake knew that nothing good came from playing the “what if” game. So he tried to just soak in the moment, at peace and at home with Riley, taking in pictures of Savannah’s new baby. He was happy, his sister and her new baby were fine, and his life was steady. He couldn’t really ask for anything more, could he?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riley kicked her legs against the exam table and tugged her sweatshirt a little closer as she checked the time on her phone again. Dr. Mehta wasn’t running that late, but Riley was just a little anxious about this appointment. When she’d called to schedule her next depo injection, she was surprised that she’d been booked for a longer appointment with Dr. Mehta herself, not Val, Dr. Mehta’s nurse. She wasn’t sure if something was wrong or why this was happening. All she knew is that she needed to get her depo before their trip to Cordonia. It would be too late to wait until she got back.

She knew Drake was excited to get back and see everyone, as well as meet his new niece, Caroline. But, truth be told, Riley always found it a bit strange being back in Cordonia, even more so now that Hana had moved to London full time. Even though she’d been a nobody in New York for over two years, she still got recognized every time she and Drake had been back there. Last visit, they’d somehow even attracted enough attention that The Ruby Rise, one of the tabloids there, had run a piece speculating they had come back to enter into some sort of thruple with Liam. The whole thing had been a total mind fuck. Being back just always felt a little bit like stepping into a time capsule or a portal to this very weird time period of her life, one where she ended up grabbing Drake and bolting for the exit as soon as she could.

She supposed that wasn’t an entirely fair comparison. After all, it’s not like she considered her time in Cordonia a negative one. For the most part, she’d had a fun experience, and most of her closest friends came from that time in her life. But it still felt weird, returning to the world of balls and galas and courtly politics where she’d been on her best behavior for months. Now that she wasn’t formally a part of that circle, she didn’t hold back from swearing or snarking when she was there. It always caught at least a few people off guard and fully scandalized Bertrand consistently. Olivia had remarked at Savannah and Bertrand’s wedding that the potty-mouthed, bitchy version she was finally fully seeing was somehow more and less annoying at the same time. 

Two sharp knocks jolted Riley out of her thoughts. She turned her head to the exam room door as Dr. Mehta entered with a smile, a clipboard in her hand. 

“Sorry about the wait,” she said with a smile as she plopped down on the stool by the desk and rolled over to sit in front of Riley. “And you don’t need to be up there if you don’t want to. We just need to chat.”

Riley frowned at that, but Dr. Mehta must have noticed that, because she let out a little chuckle. “Nothing bad, I promise! I just wanted to talk to you about your contraceptive options. Honestly, I should have brought this up at your appointment back in December. I just did my math wrong when I was reviewing your chart then.”

“I’m really happy on the depo, doctor.”

She gave Riley a little smile as she said, “And I’m glad. But unfortunately Depo Provera is only safe to use for two years. And we’ve reached that point.”

Riley felt a wave of panic rush through her. “I can’t go back on the pill! I was always terrible about remembering to take it.” It was the truth. Back years ago, she’d been awful about remembering to take her pill, and it was almost never at the same time of day. 

“That’s fine. You aren’t my only patient who struggles with that, I promise. That’s why I wanted to talk about other long term options for you. I’m assuming no plans to try for pregnancy in the next couple of months?”

“God no!”

She laughed at that. “Just making sure! I think for you, either an IUD or an implant are going to be the best options.” She passed Riley a couple of pamphlets and went over the relevant details, side effects, and benefits.

“So, if you want to think about what you want and give my office a call in the next couple of days, we can get you in next week,” Dr. Mehta concluded.

Riley shook her head. “I’m traveling out of the country next week.”

Dr. Mehta tilted her head back and forth a couple of times, then checked her watch. “Well, I doubt we’ll be able to get you in for an IUD placement this week, but if you have a little time now, I can place an implant today.”

So, maybe a half hour later, Riley found herself walking out of the OBGYN office suite, a thick bandage wrapped around her bicep, pleased that she was set for birth control for the next few years. Not only was it one less thing to worry about, but it felt like the sort of thing a responsible adult did. After living so long with no consideration for the future, flying by the seat of her pants, diving into massive decisions without a second of thought, she knew that times like this, where she planned for her long-term, represented a decent amount of progress.

It was strange, in a way, to be consistently thinking about the future. For so long, her life had been just her scraping by, hoping to claw her way into a slightly better situation. Getting to go and live with her mother again when she was in a shitty foster home. Getting to go and live in a foster home when her mother relapsed hard or when she had a shitty, creepy dealer as a boyfriend. Getting a new job that would pay more. Always scrambling, never dreaming beyond her next move.

But now, she had a white collar job that paid her a college graduate salary, she had a nice apartment, and she lived with her dog and her fiancé. No one would guess that she’d lived off food stamps and free school lunches and had bounced around from couch to couch and then from foster home to foster home. She lived the life of a well-adjusted woman, and that meant considering the long-term, not just the short term. And today she’d done just that. She felt responsible and capable. It was a nice feeling.

She’d been all ready to brag about her very mature decision, but when she got back to their apartment, things were chaotic. Anderson was bouncing off the walls, and Drake was livid on the phone with the airline about their upcoming flight, so she took out the dog, and by the time she got back, Drake basically had dinner on the table. All thoughts about her birth control were pushed out of her mind through dinner and some heated hands of poker, until she was getting ready for bed that evening. She was tossing her sweatshirt into the hamper and Drake was by the dresser he’d painted lime green for her. As she got undressed, he caught sight of the bandage on her arm for the first time.

“Riley, what happened?” he asked, darting over, eyes locked on her left arm as he sank down on the edge of the bed to inspect it closer.

She couldn’t help but smile. His reaction was so predictable. “Nothing.”

“But your arm…” He gently traced his fingers over her bandage, as if he would find some evidence of some horrible injury on her, something he somehow missed and needed to correct.

“New birth control. Bandage comes off tomorrow.”

“Oh. Okay.” He still seemed leery and continued his inspection of her arm. “Why’d you change? Was something wrong?”

Riley shrugged. “My doctor said that I had reached my limit for depo. Besides this one lasts three years. Seemed mad convenient.”

Drake’s fingers stopped their path with her words, his eyes jumping from the bandage up to her face. “Three years?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” He didn’t say anything else, just stood up, walked back to the dresser, and started rifling through his drawer.

“What?”

“It’s nothing, Liu.”

“Clearly it’s something,” she said, joining him by the dresser, forcing herself into his personal space until he made eye contact with her again. “You’ve never given a shit what I’ve done for birth control before. What’s up, Drake?”

He shook his head a little before returning to rifling through the drawer, flipping through old t-shirt after old t-shirt. “I told you - it’s nothing. Since you’re the one who has to deal with any side effects or whatever, it’s obviously your call. Have you seen my blue Cordonian football shirt?”

She let out a sigh. “Don’t change the subject.”

He took a moment before he responded, closing his eyes for just a second and taking a deep breath. “It’s stupid.” He opened his eyes again and gave his head a little shake, his eyes still glued on the drawer. “I just… I don’t know, I guess…”

“You want kids within three years.” She finished his thought for him, knowing without a doubt that was what he was struggling to tell her.

Drake finally looked up at her and shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like I have a timeline or anything, but… I don’t know. Three years is a long ways off, you know?”

She did know. “I agree; a lot can change in three years. In fact, three years ago, you were just some rude asshole who clearly thought I was a crown chaser.”

He rolled his eyes at that before quipping back, “I just didn’t realize someone recklessly impulsive enough to hop on a private jet with a couple of guys she’d known for less than 24 hours could survive to be your age. It was really a compliment, me assuming you at least had a goal in mind.”

“When did you realize that I was just flying by the seat of my pants and clearly had no plan whatsoever?”

“When you told Olivia you were going to slap her. That degree of lack of diplomacy just can’t be found in someone who knows how to become queen.”

“But you still thought I was going to be queen at that point.”

“I mean, I just assumed you were going to stumble your way into the role, but do you really want to get into why I thought you would be queen?”

She shook her head, laughing lightly as she placed her hands on his chest and nudged him backwards to their bed, straddling his lap as he sat down on the end. “No, I think the less said there, the better. Besides, we both know I would have been the world’s shittiest queen.”

Drake opened his mouth to respond to that, but Riley didn’t give him a chance, leaning in and kissing him. After a moment, he deepened the kiss, sliding one hand to her shoulder and running another through her hair. But a few seconds later, he pulled back slightly, his hand sliding over the bandage on her arm. He stared at it, tracing his fingers over it again and again. 

“It’s an implant, Drake. I can get it removed if for some reason we are ready for kids in two years or whatever,” Riley said, sliding her fingers under his chin, redirecting his eyes from that damn bandage back to her face. “It’s not a big deal, okay?”

He swallowed roughly, but then nodded. “Okay, Liu.” And then his lips were back on hers, his hands working under her tank top, sliding it up bit by bit. She rolled her hips down against him, ready to move on from their conversation. She could think of far more enjoyable ways to spend the rest of their evening than the minutiae of her birth control choices after all. And as they tumbled backwards onto their bed, she tried not to think about the fact that Drake avoided touching her left arm for the rest of the night.

Permatag:  @walkerswhiskeygirl   @riley--walker  @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5  @mfackenthal  @thequeenofcronuts  

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @iaminlovewithtrr @ao719 @mskaneko @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC: @no-one-u-know @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria  @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs  @drakesensworld @drake-colt-lover-99

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment: @shz256  @thequeenchoices  @sunnyxdazed​

[kpopmalereader]

prom ; lee chan

• summary: dino asks you to go to prom with him after your relationship builds • pairing: lee chan x male!reader • word count: 2049 • to do

You and Chan were never really friends. You weren’t enemies by any means, but you weren’t friends. You knew of each other. And that was about it.

When you finally truly met and got to know each other it was during your last year of high school. Both of you still needed volunteer hours and wouldn’t you know it, you signed up for the same service. You actually passed each other on the way to sign up.

Being surrounded by dozens of different types of animals while also getting service hours seemed like a pretty good deal to you.

Plus, the cute boy that walked in with his sweatshirt only on one arm was an added bonus.

You had your first conversation together when you were assigned to the front desk, signing in the animals and their parents. Anytime someone was not standing directly in front of you Chan’s mind would wander. He could get distracted by Computer the Cat and feed her treats in a steady stream until she left him. Or he would start to spin around in his chair until he was sick and dizzy.

And he became very close to you. Unbeknownst to you, he would ask to share the same tasks as you (no matter how meaningless or nasty) and he didn’t take much convincing from you to do anything you didn’t want to. You never noticed his want to spend more time around you or his willingness to do jobs every volunteer complained about if you mentioned not wanting to do them. You thought you noticed how often you were paired together but never thought it was because of Chan, instead thinking you were looking too far into things or that the person in charge thought you two were good friends.

You were becoming friends. In the process of starting a friendship.

At the beginning, it wasn’t obvious. You would nod at each other in the hallway. And he smiled at you once in the cafeteria while you were with his friends. You felt like you were on cloud nine the rest of the day, though you couldn’t pin down why you felt the way. After a little while of working together and getting to know each other while playing with and bathing dogs you started to say a few words in passing then he would end up by your locker before class and then if either of you were ever alone, you would keep each other company.

You met his friends. He met yours. They had questions but you both said you were only gaining a friend.

By the end of the first semester, your friend groups had mixed. Everyone knew of each other and acted friendly when able. You and Chan began hanging out after school and before going to the office. You learned his favorite color and his favorite animal, his favorite food, his life story, everything he told you, you absorbed.

By Valentine's day Chan was falling. He couldn’t help it. You seemed to care about everything. Every detail anyone else would pass up or forget, you remembered. The candy Chan mentioned one time? You bought it for him a month later. The song he hummed to himself while he was doing inventory? You told him you liked the artist a few days after.

It was really your fault. How could you show interest in him in these small ways no one else really had before and not expect him to fall?

The moment he really “fell” he’ll remember forever. Someone brought in an Orange Dream Ball Python. They said it wasn’t too old but they couldn’t take care of it and didn’t know what to do. You paged for one of the vets and asked the person to wait a minute but as you got the words out they dropped a writhing bag onto the counter and half-ran out of the office. With no hesitation you grabbed the bag and peeked inside, seeing that it did, in fact, look like some type of python. You brought it to the back and Chan followed. The vet was busy and couldn’t walk out but seeing the animal fight against itself in the cloth bag made your face morph into the saddest frown he’s ever seen from you. You stuck the bag in one of your hoodie’s pockets and went on a mission for some kind of cage for it. You found a small cage and took the lid off.

*

“What are you doing?” Chan’s jaw had long been on the floor.

You looked at him like he was the crazy one.

To you, the answer and solution was obvious, but to everyone else in the situation (only Chan), nothing was going to happen until an actual adult walked into the room.

He still looked very confused and a tiny bit frightened, so you spelled it out. “I’m going to let him out. I don’t know how long he’s been in there or if he’s hurt, where they got him from, I’m going to release him into the cage and let him slither around.”

You placed the cloth bag into the cage. Chan took three half-steps backward. The bag fell open and you slowly tug at the other end of it until the snake falls onto the plastic cage.

The snake isn’t too big. It’s sort of small. But it’s still a snake.

It balls up in the middle of the cage and hides in itself. Chan hears a small noise of adoration come from you and you sit in a chair, watching the creature closely.

“Hey, little guy. What happened to you?”

*

The vet gave clearance on the snake. Said it was what the owner said it was and that it didn’t appear to be injured. They had an enclosure for it and one of the techs was sent to get some extra supplies.

You became attached to him immediately. You set the little cage he was in by your station at the counter, checking in with him any time you could. Chan watched as you became more and more okay with the reptile until you had him quite literally wrapped around your finger. The “little dude” slithered over your hands and your keyboard, your smile growing bigger and bigger when he did anything at all.

And as Chan watched you interacting with the snake he felt enamored. You would look up at Chan and point excitedly and he was lightheaded. He wanted to spill everything about himself. He wanted to tell you every secret he’s ever had. And he might have if the head vet mentioned some patrons might be afraid of the snake. You frowned and hid him behind the desk, smile turning sneaky.

He didn’t say anything. Just felt every emotion possible.

You wanted to keep the little snake so bad. Came to school the next day with a pout, recounting to Chan exactly what your parents said about it.

You said Chan saved the day when he said you would know the whereabouts of the snake at the vet’s office.

Every day that passed once Chan’s feelings truly set in they only grew. Most of his friends were quickly let in on the secret and a few of your friends found out soon after.

His feelings came to a head before prom. Chan’s mind began to race when he watched everyone’s prom-posals begin. The more they happened the more Chan began to wonder if you were going to get asked. Or ask someone else.  And the thought was unsettling to him. He didn’t want anyone else to think of going with you or for you to think of going with anyone besides himself.

Your best-friend was finally made aware of his feelings when Chan caved while planning the “perfect confession” and asked for advice. They would say they didn’t hold it over his head. Chan would disagree.

Chan took it as a compliment when they didn’t seem completely disgusted at the idea.

When he started planning, he also started preparing for the embarrassment he would endure if you were to say no. Embarrassment he did not plan for was the embarrassment in asking the head veterinarian for help and permission.

He hoped you wouldn’t notice the change in who you were working with throughout the day.

You did.

*

“Hey!” You stop halfway to turning the light in the stockroom off. Computer the Cat darts out between your legs and you hear the yelp of one of the nurses in his path. “Didn’t see you there.”

His attempt at not being suspicious is anything but good. “Hello.”

“You weren’t at the front desk with me today,” You scrunch your face and lean against the door. “You know how awkward the silences are when you’re not close to the person you’re working with? I’ll answer it for you. Very. It was awful and as far as I’m concerned it’s all your fault.”

He scratches the back of his neck and pushes the stack of paper towels to the left. “Sorry. I asked if I could do more work alone today. I guess I should have warned you.”

You shrug your shoulders and let the door close. You sit on the stool he was using earlier. “It’s not like a real problem or anything. I just missed you. Is everything okay?”

Your genuine concern and thoughtful expression eat away at him until his straight expression breaks into a light chuckle and smile. “Yeah. I just had some stuff on my mind today. It’s okay, promise.”

You nod and jump up, going out of your way to bump your shoulder into his on your way to the door. “Well, if you get tired of doing inventory or being alone, come see me. I’ll ignore more of my work to talk to you.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you later.”

Chan breathes out and bangs his head against the metal shelves as the door closes behind you. He shuts his eyes tightly, rethinking every step of his plan.

*

With an hour and a half left of the day with no attempt at the plan happening every time the head vet passes Chan, constant watch-tapping occurs.

Chan sees you cleaning out one of the cages and sets his plan into motion. He pours a few cat treats into a bowl and corrals Computer the Cat into an empty exam room. She tolerates Chan enough for him to set up his sign. He adds more food to her bowl to keep her in place and walks out of the room.

He catches you as you’re washing your hands, the smaller dog cages fully cleaned and redecorated. “Hey,”

“Hello.” You flick some of the water on your hands at him and smile.

“Have you seen Computer?”

“I saw her earlier, why?”

“She was acting kind of strange earlier; I didn’t know if you noticed anything different.”

You pout slightly and shake your head. “No, where is she? What was she doing?”

Chan leans back into the door. “She keeps sneaking off into Room Three.”

“Poor thing, I wonder if she’s okay.” You walk into the hallway, leaving him to pick his heart off of his shoe.

You moving towards his surprise forces him to recover. He follows behind you, breathing in raspy breaths.

You walk into the room, looking up to first see Computer eating then seeing the sign. “Prom?” is written in big letters and you turn around quickly.

Chan smiles at you with one of his eyebrows raised. A white rose is in his hand and he holds it out to you. “I don’t know if I can handle asking but I will if you want me to.”

“You don’t have to ask again.” Your ears go pink and your smile grows as you take the flower from him. “Thank you and… yes. Yes. I will go to prom with you.”

He laughs and nods his head. “Great, good. Yeah. Okay.”

“I didn’t think you were going to ask me. I was hoping but didn’t think you would.”

“You were hoping?”

“Obviously.” You smell the flower and shake your head.

He scratches the back of his neck and rocks up on his toes. “Thank you. Prom.”

“Prom.” You repeat.

[reddie-fangirl24]

Eddie, The Patient Chapter 2     (A Reddie Fanfiction)

Link to the Previous Chapter

“And continuing on... um, from where we left off yesterday... the war had devastated... the entire world...”

Most of Eddie’s students’ tired expressions resembled his own. Usually starting off the period walking down the aisles of the five rows of tables like he normally did, Eddie sat down at his desk, feeling as if he were going to collapse to the ground. His muscles felt so achy. And anytime he opened his eyes he saw twice the amount of students that he had, causing his unsettled stomach to lurch.

Realizing that he had closed his eyes for a second, Eddie jumped, straightening himself to make it look as if he were well. Would his students notice, was the question? Some of them were playing with their pencils while only a few were fully attentive, wanting to learn.

 “Um... who knows the date on when the war ended? William?” Eddie asked a student who wasn’t raising their hand.

“Um... September 1, 1945?” he answered shyly, sinking into his chair like a turtle.

Eddie hardly paid attention to the answer. He barely cared about what he was teaching. “Very good.”

“Wait, Mr. Tozier, Will is wrong!” Bethany, the teacher’s pet, spoke up from the front row. “It was September 2nd, 1945! Not the 1st!” she confronted William making the embarrassed young man hide behind his arms. 

Ugh, please don’t shout. “Right.”

“Mr. Tozier, I have a question!” Another boy spoke up.

“Go ahead.” Mind over matter. You are strong. You are brave.

“Why didn’t we just time travel into the future or to the past and stop the war like that? Isn’t that what they could do in Back to the Future?”

Now, Eddie noticed that it was his favorite ‘class clown’ student who loved to stir up trouble. He was very intellectual but refused to show it, constantly making jokes every week, interrupting his lessons. What was he going to say? Didn’t he marry a class clown? Oh, no, the clown. He didn’t want to think about that nightmare right now.

“Okay, let’s move onto history reports,” Eddie suggested, struggling to smile. One little movement and surely he’d be ill. 

There was an echo of groans and ‘I don’t want to’ responses that floated around the room.

“But, Mr. Tozier, your lecture is supposed to go until 9:15. It’s only 8:55!” A student pointed out.

Was it only 8:55? “Well, I figured we have a lot to get through. James, would you like to go first?”

This would be easy. He had this group of students until quarter to ten. And then his next class had the same project. All Eddie had to do was listen and grade the assignments later when his mind wasn’t so muddled. If he remained as stiff as a statue that awful feeling in his stomach would go away.

His student walked to the front of the room. “For my assignment, I wrote about George Washington. He was famous in history because...”

“... Rosa Parks is my idol. We should all recognize Parks for her courage...”

“... Without Edison, we wouldn’t have any light...”

And next, it was the class clown’s turn. Did he actually have his paper finished? Why were his eyes spinning? “My report is on Charlie Chaplin, one of the greatest silent comedians of all time!”

Why did Eddie leave the house this morning? There was no way he was going to get through the rest of this day, feeling his stomach churn. Clutching at his gurgling stomach, Eddie felt himself sweating and yet feeling chilled to the bone at the same time. He hardly had the strength to lift up his own head. Peering out the window, the sun dipped behind the clouds. Oh no, would he have to walk home in the rain? 

“... Charlie Chaplin starred in many movies, even directing and acting at the same time!” His student went on.

Charlie Chaplin. Oh, yeah, didn’t Richie give a report on Charlie Chaplin all those years ago in class? But only... oh, God, no he couldn’t think about that disgusting moment!

“... His life was like a roller coaster...”

Roller coaster. Richie forced him to go on a roller coaster one summer with himself and the other members of the Losers Club. Somehow his mother never found out about it. If she ever did she would have skyrocketed into the moon, breaking it. It was the worst experience ever! The ride was so terribly fast, jerking from side to side, going upside down, falling down a steep vertical drop. And the spinning. And spinning. And spinning...

Oh, God, I shouldn’t have imagined that! Before Eddie even had the chance to pray, he leaned over the side of his desk. Unbeknownst that the janitor moved his trash can during his nightly chores, Eddie threw up all over the floor.

Eddy’s classroom was in an uproar, shouting in disgust, jumping out of their seats, and looking away from the disgusting sight. The student who was giving his report at the front of the room almost tripped himself up backing into a wall.

His head spinning, Eddie felt dizzy, groaning. He clutched at his stomach, in pain. He felt a hand fall on his shoulder. 

“Mr. Tozier, are you okay?” His student Bethany asked him.

Eddie’s stomach heaved again until there was nothing. As tears trickled down his cheeks, Eddie finally realized what had happened as his students were talking to each other. Feeling his throat close up, Eddie didn’t realize that he was being led out of the room by Mrs. Allison, the principal of the school! Luckily, she was walking in the halls when one of his students caught her attention.

“Everyone out into the hallway. Molly, go get the janitor! Mrs. Gregory, can you look after Mr. Tozier’s class, please?” Mrs. Allison called into a classroom across the way from his.

Trembling, Eddie held his head in complete and utter shame, tears falling from his eyes. He couldn’t believe it. He threw up right in front of his classroom! Teachers never got sick! Especially in front of their students! 

The utter reactions of shock and disgust from his students broke his heart. How could he let something like this happen? Now he was going to get other people sick! Parents were going to think that he was an irresponsible man for coming into work with the flu once they heard the news. He felt so stupid for coming to work knowing that he wasn’t well. 

“There, there, Eddie, the worst is over...” Mrs. Alliston warmly assured him, giving Eddie a tissue to clean off his mouth. She wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulder. Although Eddie almost towered over the woman, he couldn’t keep up with her speed. He half leaned against her for support. Oh, he was such a burden. The hallways felt much longer than usual.

“L-Look at what I did...” Eddie uttered shamefully, trying to breathe normally. Slow and steady breaths. Almost reaching into his pockets, Eddie remembered that he didn’t need that useless inhaler. It was so hard to get used to that, even after five years.

“It’s alright, dear, it happens to everyone. You’re going to feel a lot better once you lie down,” she smiled at him. It was only to hide how disappointed she was. While Mrs. Alliston was a friendly woman, Eddie always feared how he was doing as a first-year teacher. No matter what she always told him how great of a job he was accomplishing. She even became somewhat of a mentor figure to him. Like a mother.

As soon as he was in the office the nurse immediately sat Eddie on a bed with the crinkly white paper used to protect the bed from germs. He cringed not knowing how many other sick students had occupied this bed. Oh, he was already sick. The nurse’s office was never his favorite place. That’s why he always avoided having to go to the nurse during his time as a student.

It was always his mother who decided if he went to school or not, even if he had the smallest cold. Even Myra obsessed over some little thing when he’d cough. He was surprised that he was never held back feeling as though he missed so much school one year. Eddie never had the say to make his own decision if he wanted to stay home or not.

“Do you think you may be sick again, Mr. Tozier?” The nurse asked holding a thermometer to his ear. She was very friendly offering him water to rinse out his foul-tasting mouth and even avoiding students coming into the office.

“I don’t know!” Eddie sniffled, hugging himself, shivering. First, he was warm. Then freezing. He had to admit that he felt a little better. But, not for long. That unsettling churn came back. And it hurt. Being sick was never fun after the injury. Even just the slightest sneeze hurt.

“Calm down, Mr. Tozier. Being upset makes your stomach feel worse. Oh, dear!” The nurse was shocked in the instant she looked at the thermometer. “You have a fever of 102! You poor thing. Here, put your legs up, lie down. Would you like a blanket?”

Eddie nodded. His hands felt like ice. He felt like a kid once more, barely able to form words as tears leaked from his eyes like a waterfall. Tears weren’t helping his case. In fact, they did make him feel worse. Eddie felt that burdensome churn again, clutching at his stomach and sitting up, covering his mouth. On instinct, the nurse grabbed the trash can. Standing at a safe distance, she encouraged Eddie who painfully regurgitated into the trash.

Afterward, she helped him lie back down, this time covering him with a blanket. It wasn’t big enough, leaving his feet uncovered. Eddie felt so lightheaded that he didn’t even care, his head in terrible pain. It wasn’t as worse as his abdomen. Pain surged all around, making him moan. If only he had his prescribed pain medication with him.

A flustered Mrs. Alliston came into the room, having overheard. “Eddie, I’m going to get your husband on the phone. He can come and take you home.”

“No!” It hurt too much to yell, so he lowered his voice. “Don’t call my husband, please?” Eddie begged. 

“Why not?” Mrs. Alliston asked alarmed.

“Richie is busy with rehearsing for this show. And he is very stressed.” It hurt Eddie to say that. He wanted Richie here now more than anything. No, he couldn’t ruin any more of Richie’s shows. Richie would be furious with him. That was the last thing Eddie wanted, feeling as if he were getting in the way of it all. 

“Could you call my friend Bill Denborough or his wife, Audra? They live in the L.A. area. Their names are listed in the emergency contact, too.” That was all the energy he had left to speak, closing his eyes unable to stand the light in the room. His head hurt and he felt so exhausted, ready to fall asleep at any moment.

“Sure, Mr. Tozier. Don’t you worry about anything. Get some rest. Is there anything that you need right now?” the nurse asked.

My husband. “No,” Eddie’s voice cracked with a heartbreaking sob.

The nurse comfortingly patted his shoulder. “It’s all right. You rest here. Call if you need anything.” Before leaving she pulled up the garbage can. Thankfully she turned off the lights.

Eddie was left alone in the little room. How could he let this happen? He was going to get fired he knew it! His boss was masking how angry she was. A first-year teacher sick. In front of his class. How embarrassing.

All Eddie wanted to do was snuggle closely next to Richie, smelling his wonderful cologne. When was the last time they snuggled? 

Their schedules hardly coincided. Richie had so many shows after another, coming home late when he had already fallen asleep. And then when he’d wake up for work the next morning, Richie was fast asleep, tangled in a strange pose and snoring lightly. 

Sometimes Richie even traveled being gone for close to a week. Before he became a teacher, Eddie went with him. It was the best time. Staying in hotel rooms, eating at the best restaurants, and just getting to spend time together, further bonding in their relationship. He adored those memories.

Succumbing to sleep, Eddie closed his eyes listening to his boss get in contact with Bill.

[strangestdrabbles]

Drunk Adoration

A/N: THIS IS THE LONGEST IMAGINE I HAVE WRITTEN SO FAR AND I HOPE YOU LOVE IT. honestly steve has my entire heart. i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing. 

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

It was as if Y/N allowed herself to fall into what it would be like to be with Steve as she leaned against her locker and stared up at the curly haired boy in front of her, resting his left hand on the metal by her head. She held her biology textbook against her chest as she watched his lips move, smiling softly before the words were registering in her ears. 

“- would be a perfect Halloween party theme.” 

Y/N blinked innocently while bringing her bottom lip between her teeth, not noticing Steve’s eyes follow the action while his stomach flipped. 

“What?” 

Steve laughed kind heartedly which caused a pretty rose coloured flush to settle on the high points of Y/N’s cheeks. 

“I said I think that dressing up as movie characters would be a perfect Halloween party theme.” 

She was about to answer Steve while trying to ignore the warm honey feeling in her chest when Nancy walked over to the pair, Y/N withdrawing in a way that neither noticed. Even though Nancy and Steve were over and she was in a happy relationship with Jonathan, Y/N always put Nancy and Mike’s feelings first to make sure that they were happy and taken care of; thinking that she needed to push her feelings for Steve down to not hurt her younger sister. 

It was as the pair were talking that a group of Y/N and Steve’s classmates walked up to her, talking and making Y/N laugh in such a way that captured the curly haired boy’s attention for a moment; causing his stomach to erupt with butterflies. Y/N looked so carefree then as she joked around with a boy that both she and Steve knew only from their shared chemistry class, running a hand through her hair while listening and then the bell rang; Y/N walking away with the group but not before turning her head slightly and meeting Steve’s eye, blushing softly before turning away and leaving Steve with a molten honey feeling in his chest. 

--

It had been a week since the moment at the lockers and Y/N had been slowly but surely distancing themselves more from Steve, making sure to keep him at arms length and only talk to him about school and to plan the Halloween party they were going to throw. Steve wasn’t able to take his eyes off Y/N as she wrote down a list of things they needed to get for the night, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers and softly toying with her bottom lip between her teeth. The sun haloed her as they sat outside during lunch, soaking up the rare winking of sunlight that Hawkins was lucky enough to experience; Steve’s heart skipping a beat while taking the girl before him in. 

“Steve? Steve? Are you listening?” 

Steve blinked quickly before looking at Y/N and feeling his breath catch in his throat at the way the sun captured the colour of her eyes, accentuating the colour to be ethereal. 

“O-Oh yeah. I’m listening.” 

Y/N smiled before laughing and running a hand through her hair, writing down a few more things before resting her cheek on her palm. 

“I think I have everything written down that we need for the party. We just need to do the flyers and we will be sorted. We can hand them out tomorrow or something.” 

Steve nodded because he didn’t trust how his voice would sound because of the way the sun was framing Y/N in such a way that was otherworldly. 

“Are you okay Steve, you look flushed.” 

Y/N moved closer to Steve and his heart caught in his throat due to the proximity, not being able to move because being this close to the girl he held so dear in his heart and had genuine feelings for was something he cherished. 

“O-Oh yeah I’m f-fine.” 

-

The next day came quickly and both Y/N and Steve were ladened with a generous pile of flyers to their Halloween party, handing them out to anyone that walked past so the word could spread. The pair being as popular as they were didn’t need to do much to create a buzz so they knew the party would be packed and that’s what they hoped, fingers quick to lessen the burden of the piles. 

“You’re getting the kegs and shit right?” Steve asked, his voice nonchalant as he continued to hand out flyers while not noticing the girls swooning at his brief moment of vague attention. 

“Oh yeah. I know some people that can help out with that.” 

Steve nodded while Y/N smiled, his heart soaring before settling contently in his chest and then a thought flashed through his mind; one of him and Y/N walking through the halls with his arm around her shoulders holding her close, internally shaking his head when he felt his cheeks begin to quickly heat up and a molten feeling fill his stomach. 

--

Steve’s house was empty when he and Y/N set up for the party, making room inside if people wanted to dance and setting up punch ((which was more alcohol that fruit juice)) and snacks along with locking doors of rooms that Steve didn’t want anyone having access to. The kegs were set up in the backyard for premium accessibility, Steve being thankful for Y/N to be able to get them along with helping him set up. 

“This is gonna be awesome.” Y/N said once they had finished, grabbing a red plastic cup and filling it with punch before tossing her head back and downing the drink in one go. 

There was a silence as Steve watched Y/N down another drink, collecting the extra that collected on her bottom lip with her middle finger and sucking slightly; his cheeks warming and a hook like feeling in his lower stomach. 

“I’m gonna get in my costume, maybe you should too.” 

Before Steve could answer Y/N was gone, quick to walk up the stairs and out of sight which left Steve alone to collect his thoughts before running a hand through his hair and grabbing a drink; downing the drink in one go. 

-

The party was in full swing as the clock ticked over to 9pm, the music a backing track as people danced, talked and drank; Steve’s backyard just as lively and bright with people enjoying their Halloween. After that one brief drink before the party began Steve stayed sober, deciding to be the one to take care of everything and look after Y/N who was dressed in a sexy nurse outfit that was unzipped just enough to be enticing. She was drinking and handling herself quite well but Steve knew it wouldn’t be too long before her and the other drunk attendants at the party began to get messy. 

It was as Steve was walking from the backyard back into the living room that the music changed, his head turning to survey the area and then making eye contact with Y/N. Her hair was messy in just the right way that made him want to run his fingers through it and her eyes were sultry and dreamy, drawing Steve in as if there was a hook in his stomach. She flashed a wicked smile before going back to dancing, holding her cup in the air for a moment before downing the contents and sucking on her bottom lip; releasing and leaving the skin a cherry red. 

Y/N walked over to Steve then and wrapped her arms around his torso, looking up at him through her lashes and smiling. 

“This party is amazing. We did such a great job.” 

Steve wrapped his left arm around her shoulders and squeezed softly, looking down at her as she blinked. 

“We really did huh.” 

There was a lull as Y/N and Steve looked at each other before she left a soft barely there kiss on the underside of his jaw, walking away to fill her cup then going outside. He felt like his nerves were on high alert as he watched Y/N walk outside to interact with other party guests, the way she fit comfortably within each small group and laughed in a way that was approachable had Steve’s cheeks burning in the loveliest way. 

-

It was once the party was over and everyone had left that Steve went looking for Y/N, her being quite intoxicated the last time he saw her. He found her picking up the last of the trash from outside with her right hand while an almost full trash bag was clutched in the other, Y/N’s footsteps steady but her body swayed slightly before righting itself. She tied the back secure before putting it down next to the other two bags, turning and making eye contact with Steve before smiling and walking over to him. 

“S-Steve tonight was amaz-zing.” 

Steve chuckled as he took in Y/N and the way she slowly blinked up at him, the intoxication evident as she hiccuped before giggling and covering her mouth; leaning against Steve and resting her head on his chest. 

“Let’s get you to bed huh? I bet sleep sounds amazing right now.” 

Y/N nodded slowly a few times because the motion was making the world around her spin faintly, her stomach beginning to churn before settling quickly. She wrapped her arms around his right elbow to ground herself as they both began to walk through his house, the sight of his bedroom igniting something in both their chests that they did their best to ignore. 

“Okay so here is a shirt and sweats. I’ll just turn around to give you some room.” 

“Th-Thanks Ste-eve.” 

It didn’t take long for Y/N to get changed, walking up behind Steve and wrapping her arms around him from behind; resting her cheek between his shoulder blades. 

“I’m all done.” 

Her voice was a whisper as Steve turned around and took her in, his eyes drinking in the way that she looked in his clothes; his mind screaming that he wanted to see more of it. 

“Alright let’s get you into bed.” 

Y/N was compliant as she got into bed and comfortable with Steve’s help, allowing him to pull the comforter up to her chin before he sat down on the edge of the bed. Y/N sat up ever so slightly as to get a little closer to Steve, a smile resting on her lips as he watched; making sure she wasn’t going to vomit. 

“Thanks again for tonight. Spending Halloween with you was amazing.” 

Steve’s tongue was tied as the moon illuminated Y/N in such a way that could only be described as ethereal.Subtely Steve moved closer asY/N ran a hand softly through her hair, feeling the exhaustion become overwhelming. 

“Y-Yeah it was. I’m glad you’re here.” 

There was a lull as the words blanketed them, the pair leaning in without realising before their lips connected; the air around them changing. Y/N leaned out only slightly before connecting her lips to Steve’s once again, a soft sigh exhaling through the cracks as she brought her hand up to intertwine through his curls. Their lips moved slowly in sync, addicted to the feeling of euphoria that flowed through their veins and then it was over; Y/N leaning out and biting her bottom lip. Steve’s cheeks reddened as his eyes focused on Y/N’s lips, dragging away as he got up but not before leaving a soft kiss on her forehead as she laid back down. 

“Good night Steve.” 

Y/N’s voice was punctuated with a yawn as she rubbed her eyes, turning on her side and watching Steve leave. 

“Good night love.” 

--

The next morning came quickly and after Y/N showered and gathered all her things, Steve grabbed his car keys and they were off. The weather was on the warmer side as Steve drove through Hawkins, the radio creating a lulling backing track that he tapped his hand against the steering wheel. Y/N closed her eyes as the sun filtered through the windscreen, resting softly on her skin and warming her subtly; not noticing Steve glance at Y/N whenever he could. 

“Hey we’re here.” Steve said quietly as he put his car into park, shaking Y/N and smiling as she blinked slowly awake. 

It didn’t take too long for her to grab her bag and get out of the car, Steve following and standing in front of Y/N as she leaned against the passenger side door. He stepped forward so he could be close to Y/N for just another moment, leaning down slowly and smiling when Y/N met him halfway; her lips moving lazily against his but not noticing Mike and Nancy catching a glimpse before looking at each other. 

“Thanks for dropping me off.” Y/N’s voice was light as her pointer and middle finger played with her bottom lip. 

“Um yeah n-no problem. I’ll call you later yeah?” 

Y/N nodded and smiled before walking away, turning back once more to look at Steve as she stood in the doorway before walking fully into the house. She leaned against the closed door then to try and calm her quickly beating heart, not noticing Mike and her mother standing in the kitchen before he cleared his throat; causing Y/N to jump slightly as she turned her head towards the pair. 

“You kissed Steve?” 

Karen stayed silent while Mike exclaimed the question, a rose coloured flush settling on Y/N’s cheeks as she stepped forward and tried to get to the stairs without having the conversation that she knew was coming. 

“Come and sit Y/N.” Karen said, her voice calm and kind, but still causing a shiver to stagger up her spine. 

“U-Um okay.” 

Nancy was sitting in the living room when Y/N walked in, Mike and Karen following after and sitting down in a way that Y/N thought was supposed to be intimidating. 

“So do you want to tell us what’s going on with you and Steve?” 

Mike’s voice punctuated the silence and grabbed Y/N’s attention, confusion flashing across her eyes before she formulated an answer. 

“Me and Steve? There is nothing going on with me and Steve?” 

“We saw you kiss him.”

Y/N’s eyes left Mike’s and found her mother’s, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as Steve and her shared kisses flashed through her mind; a warm honey feeling filling her chest. 

“O-Okay yes we did k-kiss.” 

Y/N couldn’t look at Nancy as she tried to piece together what she was thinking and how she was feeling, the air heavy around the four of them. 

“Y/N?” 

Nancy’s voice caught Y/N off guard in a way that caused her breath to catch in her throat, using every ounce of strength to turn and face her sister. 

“Y-Yeah?” 

There was a lull as Nancy mulled over her words before speaking, her eyes catching Y/N’s and holding the stare. 

“Do you have feelings for Steve?” 

It was as if all the air was sucked out of the room and everything was hyperfocused, Y/N’s heart beating wildly in her chest and in her ears. 

“Y/N?” 

She was pulled out of her thoughts by Mike’s voice, clearing her throat before looking around at her siblings and mother. 

“Yeah, Steve’s everything to me. I think I’m in love with him.”

[galoots]

Donald pushes himself too hard while he's sick, and Scrooge has to take care of him. It's a bit difficult to care for your nephew when he incessantly insists he isn't sick.

The bitter winter wind sliced through Donald’s heavily bundled form like a knife’s edge. His slow, winding route up Killmotor hill came to a temporary halt as a violent shiver racked his body. Pulling his scarf tighter around his beak, Donald made labored steps through the thick snow. Duckburg had gotten several inches overnight, so his normally long walk to work was made even longer. Bad weather was much less charming once the glamour of the holiday season wore off.  

          The holidays, in fact, had come to an end a few days prior, along with his incredibly short-lived vacation. Grey, listless January lumbered into town, bringing with it the disappointed march of children back to school, and adults back to work. Donald’s normal shift at his uncle’s bin resumed, meaning early mornings, a troublesome commute, and long days spent polishing coins, filing taxes, and handling other odd jobs his uncle needed doing. But hell, it paid. So here he was, fighting his way up the snow-blanketed hill on a freezing January morn.

Last night’s tell-tale tickle of a sore throat had turned full blown pharyngitis when he awoke this morning. An unsurprising turn of events, since he’d nursed the triplets back to health after they caught a nasty virus only a week prior. Throughout his morning routine and his commute to work, his under-the-weather feeling turned into more of a maybe-I-should-go-to-the-hospital feeling, but he continued on anyway. Sure, he had sick days saved up and sure he felt like death was wrapping its icy grip around him and sure his kids had softly suggested that it might not be in his best interest to head into work today, but those were just excuses. Mind over matter was the way to think of it! If he didn’t acknowledge this so-called bug, then it had no power over him. With willpower you could overcome any physical problem, and Donald had a will of steel. Besides, a silly little fever couldn’t stand in the way of his paycheck, not after he had splurged on a spectacular Christmas for his kids. In hindsight, it hadn’t been the smartest choice, given his lean holiday bonus, but the spirit of the season had trumped his sense of frugality.

           Climbing the stairs to Scrooge’s office left him winded after a few steps, forcing him to pause to catch his breath on the landing. Several times he had to wait out nasty coughing fits that racked his body with violent spasms. Despite these delays, he was still able to reach Scrooge’s office on time. He greeted his uncle while he hung up his coat and hat, deciding to leave his scarf and thick woolen sweater on to combat the chills bombarding his body. Even inside, sheltered from the wind and the fire stoked blazing hot in his uncle’s old-fashioned cast iron wood stove, he felt the winter’s chill deep done in his bones. His head swam, feeling thick as molasses, as he grabbed his rag and tub of polish. He barely registered his uncle’s greeting and small talk about the weather as he stumbled to the Bin’s interior. Scrooge’s concerned inquiry about his well-being was lost on sinuses so clogged it was as if he had shoved cotton in his ears.

          His descent down the ladder leading to the coins was an arduous one—his sense of balance was all in a tizzy and his hands clammy on the rungs. A strong dizzy spell hit him hard when he attempted another step down, his sweaty hand slipping off the rung, sending him hurtling to the coins stacked high below.  

          For once, the tinkle of metal on metal didn’t cause a thrill to spark down Scrooge’s spine. Instead, a keen sense of dread settled in his stomach, launching him up from his office chair, over his desk, and to the ledge overseeing his three cubic tons of money.

          His nephew was usually groggy and unresponsive in the morning, typical since the boy much preferred to sleep late. But that morning, he’d stumbled into Scrooge’s office like a man possessed, barely responding and marching forward like an automaton. Scrooge’s fears were confirmed once he peeked over the ledge and spied the prostrate body of his nephew below. He scrambled down the ladder, calling for Duckworth to ready the company car.

          Donald was conscious but delirious, so Scrooge’s queries about how he felt were meet with incoherent answers. Inspecting the boy himself, nothing seemed broken, but he was hot to the touch and panting shallowly. The damn fool was sick as a dog! Hauling him up onto his back, Scrooge started for the ladder to carry him out of the bin.

           Donald awoke in his bed with a yawn. He smacked his beak, content to fall back asleep, letting his eyes shut close again. Before he drifted back asleep, he thought how strange the quality of light was at this hour. It was far too bright out for six am on winter morning; it should be still be dark out. The slow, subtle descent of panic wormed its way into his heart as he realized what this meant. He overslept. Jumping out of bed, he tore off his pajamas and threw on his sailor suit. Uncle Scrooge hated nothing more than a tardy worker and, given how bright it was, Donald was very, very tardy. He could see his end with unshrouded eyes—Scrooge was going to kill him.

          There was no time to shower, no time for breakfast, barely even time to stop and think. He hurtled down the hallway, careening around the corner almost slipping before he grabbed the banister to steady himself. He started down the stairs only to trip over his own feet after a few steps and tumble the rest of the way down, landing with a thud.

          “Donald?”

          That thick Scottish brogue could only belong to one man—his ornery Uncle Scrooge. It was too late for him. The old boy was already here to chew him out. Donald screwed his eyes closed for a moment. Farewell kids! Farewell Daisy! Farewell temperamental Fate! Life was short and unkind, but at least he’d find a swift end. And at least he’d never have to see Gladstone again.

          A strong arm grasped his own and Donald held his breath, thinking it would surely bring about his death, only to find that he had been pulled to his feet. He readied an apology as Scrooge lead him by the arm into the kitchen, following his uncle in a guilt-ridden slink. Scrooge was frowning heavily, almost grimacing.

          Maybe, if he launched into an apology, he could head off the worst of the yelling. “Uncle Scrooge, I am so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to oversleep, I—”

          Scrooge pushed firmly on his shoulders, plunking Donald down into the chair he had pulled out from the kitchen table. He opened his mouth to speak again but his apology was cut off with the harsh rap of Scrooge’s cane against the floor. He winced at the sound, shrinking into his chair. Scrooge had to be furious with him.

          “I take you all the way home to get some rest and you catapult yourself down the stairs the second I leave you along?” Scrooge scoffed, pushed Donald’s chair in, and walked over to the stove.

          Donald pried one confused eye open, spotting his uncle puttering around the kitchen in the frilly, pink apron Daisy gave him last Valentine’s day. What the hell was going on?

          His uncle placed a bowl of soup in front of him with a tut of disapproval. “Eat up. It’s just from a can. Nothing fancy. You know I’m not much of a cook.” Before sitting down next to him, Scrooge tucked a napkin into Donald’s collar.

          Donald wrapped his chilled hands around the warm bowl, peering at his perplexed reflection in the surface of the chicken noodle soup. He sipped the soup directly from the bowl, not bothering to pick up the spoon next to him. His head swam with confusion. He could barely breathe through his nostrils. His body felt achy and sore but not from his fall. His body was feverish, yet he felt chilled all the same. And Uncle Scrooge was in his kitchen, wearing his apron, and serving him soup. Had the world gone mad?

          Scrooge tugged the lapel of Donald’s uniform like he was a commanding officer during an inspection. “You changed into your day clothes too? After all that trouble I went through to get you into your pajamas?” Scrooge released his hold on him and sighed. “Foolish little thing. You’ve got no sense in that feathery head of yours!”

          Scrooge was giving him a scolding, but not the one he had anticipated. His uncle sounded exasperated, not angry and he made no mention of his tardiness, speaking confusing sentences Donald couldn’t parse.

          “What are you talking about?” Donald fixed his uncle with a wild-eyed look. “I thought you were here to yell at me for being late?”

          Scrooge knit his eyebrows together, leaning forward to get a closer look at Donald. “You don’t remember coming in to work?”

          “I was at the Money Bin?”

          His uncle wore a genuine look of concern. “How sick are you?” Reaching across the table, Scrooge laid a hand on Donald’s forehead to feel his temperature. He startled at the touch, feeling it far too tender to be the action of his uncle. Scrooge didn’t hesitate to close the gap between his hand and his nephew’s forehead. “Just checking your temperature lad.” He muttered something about Donald being awfully jumpy, then deliberated for a moment or two. “You feel hot.”

           Standing up decisevly, Scrooge walked over to pull out Donald’s chair. “Head back upstairs. You need to get some rest.” Despite the stern tone, Donald remained seated, trying to recall whether or not he’d left the house that morning like Scrooge had claimed. Growing impatient as his nephew failed to comply, Scrooge huffed and pulled him to his feet. With an arm wrapped protectively around him, he walked Donald out of the kitchen and back to his bedroom.

          Donald thought of complaining about the tight grip Scrooge had on him and readied a remark about his ability to climb the stairs all his own but paused when he remembered he had tripped on the way down. Whatever. He felt too tired to bicker anyway. Let the old man carry him, he thought sullenly—too proud to acknowledge the rubbery feeling in his legs or how they shook with each step.

          Back upstairs in Donald’s bedroom, Scrooge pulled a fresh pair of pajamas from Donald’s wardrobe, placing them in a neat pile next to where Donald sat on his bed. Donald waited a few moments for Scrooge to leave, granting him some privacy to change his clothes, but Scrooge continued to stand in front of him.

          “Um.” Donald mumbled, his voice sounding nasally and pinched to his stuffed ears.

          “Well, what are you waiting for, boy? An invitation? Arms up!” Scrooge commanded.

          Dumbly, Donald lifted his arms without knowing why. His uncle pulled his sailor’s uniform up over his head with a swift movement. Donald jerked to cover himself as a self-conscious reflex as Scrooge folded his top and placed it off to the side.

          “I-I can do it myself!” Donald tried to swat Scrooge’s hand away from but found it difficult to do while continuing to cover himself.

          “Oh please.” Scrooge fended off his pathetic attempts to save himself, catching him by the wrist, and guiding his arms through the sleeves of his button-up nightshirt. “I used to change your diapers, you absolute numpty. Nothing I haven’t seen before. Besides,” Scrooge skipped over the buttons for now, turning to pick up the pajama bottoms, “I know if I left you to your own devices, you’d just fall asleep in your clothes like a ninny.”

           Donald grumbled unhappily about this accusation, regardless of the fact his uncle hit the nail square on the head; he was feeling so exhausted he wouldn’t have even bothered to climb the stairs back up to his room, let alone change into pajamas. Mostly dressed, Scrooge nudged him to lie down, and Donald sluggishly slipped his legs under the blankets. He started to button up his shirt, but found his hands didn’t want to comply, fumbling over the first button with little success. With another tut, Scrooge pushed his hand away and placed it by his side, giving it a little pat as if to say keep it right there. Scrooge pulled a little tub of Vic’s Vaporub from his nightstand, uncapped it, and began to rub it gently into his chest. Once again, he felt the urge to fight his uncle for treating him like an invalid but was only able to blink groggily as he fought against his heavy eyelids. He must have dozed off for the next thing he knew Scrooge had finished dressing him, set up a humidifier, and tucked him in tight. For a moment, he wondered if this was a fever dream because of how unreal everything felt.

          “Rude, Donald.” Scrooge bat him lightly on the head with a newspaper. “Forget to use inner voice again?”

          Rubbing his head, Donald turned to see Scrooge sitting casually in a rocking chair he set up next to his bed. He colored as he realized he must have spoken aloud by mistake.

          “To answer your question, no this isn’t a fever dream. Although you did have one earlier in the car.” Scrooge unfolded his newspaper, hiding his face behind newsprint. “Kept crying for your Unca.”

          Donald didn’t need to see Scrooge’s face to know that self-satisfied smug grin he abhorred was plastered all over it.

           “No, I didn’t!” He firmly denied his uncle’s allegations but, frankly, he had no memory of his trip back home.

          Scrooge stood up, throwing his newspaper back on the cushion of his chair, to tousle Donald’s head feathers. “Aw, someone’s fussy.” Donald leveled his best grimace at his uncle but had the sinking feeling that it came off as petulant rather than intimidating. For Scrooge’s mocking grin only intensified as he sat down on the bedspread next to him. “Oh,” Scrooge crooned, “What’s the matter? Does the wee barra need a hug from his unca?”

          His head rocked as Scrooge gave his noggin a little push with a smarmy chuckle. He groused, folding his arms over his chest.

          “Anyway. I’m fine now so you can go. Actually, I feel better than ever! I can head back to the Bin with you.” Donald moved to throw the covers off of him, but Scrooge stopped him. His uncle raised an eyebrow at him, grabbed his arms, and easily pinned him back into bed.

“You’re not going anywhere. Look at you! You’re as weak as a kitten.”

           Scrooge raised an eyebrow at him, grabbed his arms, and easily pinned him back into bed. “You are as weak as a kitten!”

           “Nuh-uh.”

           Scrooge smirked. “Go ahead then, lift your arms and prove your well enough to head out.”

           Under normal circumstances, Donald could easily escape from the hold his uncle had him in. But right now, with his muscles weakened from the virus, all he could do is strain helplessly against his captor and caretaker. He pushed and he pushed, but he barely budged his trapped arms. Exhausted, he flopped his head back against the pillows, frustrated he couldn’t accomplish the show of force he needed to escape.

           Scrooge chuckled at his futile attempt and wiggled his limp limbs. “Heh! Look at that, you’ve got no fight in ya’ at all.” He moved Donald’s arms like a puppeteer, laughing with amusement at how easy it was to manipulate the boy’s limbs.

           Donald tried to jerk his arms from Scrooge’s hold but failed to do even that. He affixed a snarl on his face, if he couldn’t fight with strength, then he’d have to use his words. “Glad someone’s enjoying himself.”

          “Oh, girn and fash all you want, boy-o, but it won’t make you any less ill.” Scrooge stopped playing with his arms, letting them lie on the bedspread, his hands still gripped loosely around the boy’s wrists.

          “I’m not sick,” Donald sulked, “And stop treating me like a little kid. I’m an adult!”

          “That so?” Scrooge mused, “Well I beg to differ. You’re obviously sick as a dog. What’s more: “Adults don’t push themselves to the point of collapse. Adults have the good sense to take time off to recover from illness. Adults don’t show up at their relative’s doorstop half-dead and delirious. Adults definitely don’t puke on their uncle’s freshly shined spats on the ride home. Adults—”

          Donald cringed at each allegation Scrooge listed off, growing more embarrassed with each one. “Ok! Ok! I get it,” he cried, thumping his hands angrily against the bedspread.  

          Scrooge finally let go of Donald so he could cross his arms. “Do you? Because you just insisted a minute ago you were well enough to go into work.”

          Opening his bill to snark back, Donald was cut off by a series of explosive wet coughs. With a sigh, Scrooge rubbed his back until the fit subsided. Donald croaked out a sullen little thank you under his breath, hanging his head as he settled into a proper sulk.  

          Scrooge used a finger to tilt Donald head up, making him look at him squarely. “Just being grown doesn’t make you an adult. If you can’t take care of yourself, or exercise enough common sense to ask for help, then I am going to treat you in an appropriate manner. To wit—like a toddler in a huff. Understood?”

           Donald stared at him for a moment before dropping his eyes from Scrooge’s stern gaze. “Yes, sir,” was all he could meekly mumble in return.

           Scrooge pulled his hand from his nephew’s chin and moved to pat his head, looking pleased. “Good boy.” Patting his hands on his thighs, Scrooge pushed against them to lift himself off of Donald bed.

          His motion froze halfway when he heard Donald mutter underneath his breath: “I’m fine though.”

          Sitting back down with a groan, Scrooge cradled his head in his hands for an exasperated moment. The McDuck’s were stubborn folk certainly, but this? This was plain ridiculous. “Ach, Donald.” He dragged a weary hand down his face before turning to look at Donald again. For a moment, he swore he saw that angry little boy from years before, protesting as his uncle cared for him while on a visit from Elvira’s farm. The vision faded just as quickly as it came, and staring back at him was an adult Donald, just as petulant despite his years.  

“Listen,” Scrooge poked Donald’s chest to make him pay attention, “if your boys were ill, would you make them go to school?”

          “No, of course not!” Donald crossed his arms. “I’m not a monster, I wouldn’t make them attend school if they weren’t feeling well.”

          “So why aren’t you treating yourself with the same kindness you treat them?” Scrooge poked him in the chest as he made his point.

          Donald didn’t have a good answer for that. His anger was falling away under the heavy weight of sheepishness. Whether he liked it or not, Scrooge had a point: if he wouldn’t treat his loved ones the same way he treated himself, then it didn’t reflect well on his own estimation of his self.

          Scrooge’s stern look softened as Donald withered slightly under his words. Silently, he pulled Donald into a stiff, little hug, patting his back awkwardly. For a moment, Donald tensed before relaxing somewhat into his uncle’s hug, wrapping his arms around his uncle tightly but uncertainly.

          With Donald pulled up against him, Scrooge could feel the heat radiate from the lad’s body, his back slightly damp to the touch after sweating while he rested. Cautiously, Scrooge rubbed the back of Donald’s neck with a light touch. He wondered if Donald would be acting this way if it were Elvira here to look after him instead of his grouchy, mean ol’ Uncle Scrooge.

          He heard Donald sniffle a little, whether it was from getting choked up or just plain congestion, Scrooge couldn’t tell. He pulled away and stood up, “You still haven’t taken any medicine. I’ll go fetch some for you.” Before he walked out the door, he turned back to fix Donald with another stern look. “No funny business, you hear? I’ll be right back. So, don’t even think of moving.”

          Donald watched Scrooge softly shut the door to his room as he exited. He idly eyed the window, wondering if his uncle had anticipated his attempt to escape out of it. The snow would cushion his fall, right? He sighed heavily, crossing his arms over his stomach. Fine, he thought, I’ll stay put and let the old man look after me. But I don’t have to like it. Or... he could at least continue to pretend he didn't like it.

[chuffyfan87]

Hiding. Part 45b (NSFW)

“How was work?” He asked.

"Busy. There was a pile up on the ring road." She took the tray from his hands. "Did you really make this?"

“The children helped me but yes.”

She took a bite. "Its delicious!" She complemented. "That was why I was late home, we'd only just managed to get all the patients dealt with just before I left."

“Superwoman at it again?” He smiled taking a bite out of his own food. She was right it was delicious.

"Took forty five minutes for us to get one young lad back. He was going up to surgery when I left. I just hope he pulls through." She sighed.

He smiled sadly, “You did everything you could, don’t forget that.”

"I couldn't face giving up, I just had to keep going."

“I know.” He rubbed her arm.

"My arms ached for ages afterwards." She replied inbetween bites, not realising what she'd just admitted.

“Duffy, you really need to be careful.”

"Huh?" She lifted her head to glance at him.

“You need to be careful.” He repeated again.

"I was doing my job. What's wrong with that?"

“I worry about you.”

"I'm fully capable of participating in a resus emergency Charlie!"

He sighed. “I know that. I just worry about you.”

"I know you do." She sighed, returning to her food.

They'd almost finish eating when Jake crept downstairs.

“Especially when you know—“ He paused as he heard the living room door open and the figure of Jake. “Jake, what’s wrong?”

"I couldn't sleep." He spotted Duffy. "Mum!" He grinned and moved towards her for a cuddle.

She quickly handed the dinner tray to Charlie before giving Jake a hug.

Jake sat beside his mum and hugged her. He snuggled in closer and suddenly looked up at his mum.

“What’s up son?” Charlie ruffled his Jake’s hair.

Jake continued to stare. "Mum, are you..?"

She knew what he was referring to before she followed his gaze to where his arm rested on her lap, her swollen stomach obvious in the old pjs she was wearing. "I... Er..." She stammered.

Charlie looked at Duffy for clarity although there was no hiding the pregnancy bump she had.

Fear lit up Jake's eyes as he pulled away from his parents. Though he'd been young at the time he remembered what had happened last time.

Noticing the look in Jake’s eyes, Charlie quickly placed the trays on the coffee table and moved Jake onto his lap. “I know what you’re worried about.”

"Things will be different this time." Duffy reassured her son.

“But...” Jake’s bottom lip began to tremble.

"Won't it Charlie?" She turned to her husband for back up.

“Of course.” He smiled.

"Let's get you back into bed shall we? You've got school in the morning." She pushed herself up from the sofa.

“Will you tuck me up mum please?”

"Of course. Come on." She led him out the room and back upstairs.

Jake smiled, “Please say the baby will be a boy this time?”

"I can't guarantee that but I'll try my best for you OK?"

“Ok. Love you mum.”

"I love you too." She tucked him into bed and kissed him goodnight before heading back downstairs. She sighed as she sat back down on the sofa. "How long before they all know? Breakfast?"

He laughed, “Probably.”

"Its not funny!" She complained.

“Well, what can I say?”

"I told you I was getting fat!"

“You’re not!!”

She harumphed as she looked down at her hand that rested on her belly.

“You’re not!”

"I've already had to go up a size in my uniform and even then the trousers barely still fit." She sighed.

“You’re having a baby.”

"And I'm not quite ready to shout that news to everyone just yet."

“Not until were closer to twelve weeks?”

"I know it's only another week but I'd just rather wait."

“I know.” He rubbed her bump.

"Jake's desperate for a brother." She smiled.

“I bet! Being surrounded by all you women.”

"We're not that bad are we?" She rested her head on his shoulder and fluttered her eyelashes at him playfully.

“Hmm. Do I really have to comment?” He winked.

She stuck her tongue out at him before easing herself up off the sofa.

“Ready for bed?”

"I was going to fetch my books." She admitted quietly, not quite meeting his eye.

“You really should rest.”

"How about I read them in bed for a bit? Is that an acceptable compromise?"

“Yes that’s an acceptable compromise.” He knew he wasn’t ever going to win.

She smiled sweetly and went to fetch her bag. "You coming to bed?" She asked him when she returned.

“Yes darling.”

She settled into bed with four books on the bed next to her and her laptop on her knees.

He watched her, “What are you writing or studying about this time?”

"Continuity in prenatal and postnatal care."

“And what’ve you got so far?” He asked.

"There's a lot of emphasis around continuity during the birth but not so much either side which is a shame coz the statistics and my personal experience show how much of a difference it makes to maternal wellbeing and outcomes." She replied as she opened a book and began to flick through the pages.

He smiled and nodded as he watched her. “So what would you suggest?” He asked.

"There should be a named community midwife for each woman who follows their care through both pre and postnatally. Though that would require an increase in the overall numbers of midwives which leads into the issues with recruiting, training and retaining midwives which is a whole other problem in and of itself." She sighed.

“What does the research say about the benefits of a community midwife to follow the care through from pre to post?”

"It allows possible complications to be picked up sooner and more effectively managed. It also greatly benefits maternal mental health."

“And maternal mental health is important because?”

"It greatly impacts on not just the woman herself but the child. A mum who is well supported in her mental health is much better equipped to deal with the inevitable stresses and strains of motherhood."

“I love your answers. You’re very passionate over the subject, aren’t you?”

"Its so important! We see the consequences of poor outcomes on a daily basis at work. We deal with it as best we can but surely prevention is better than cure?"

“I agree with you, prevention is better than cure. It’s also cheaper in the long run if you look at it from a financial perspective.”

"So speaks the nursing manager!" She giggled.

He lent forward and kissed her cheek.

She typed a few things into her laptop and then lent back, stretching her arms above her head.

He watched her again as she worked.

She smiled. "Thanks for your help."

“I didn’t do anything.” He replied.

"I've been trying to word that section all day."

“Did I help?”

"Yes." She closed the laptop and placed it next to the bed. She quickly marked a couple of pages in one of the books before placing them next to the computer.

“Ready to spoon now?” He asked.

"Just a second." She went over to check the contents of the large bag she'd left by the door the previous day.

He yawned as he watched her.

"Don't worry, most of this is mine and I've kept a log of what I've borrowed so I can return it during my next shift."

“I believe you” He replied with a smile.

"The things we've accumulated over twenty years of nursing!" She laughed as she walked back over to the bed.

“I dread to think.” He laughed softly.

"The uniform has certainly gotten more practical over the years." She remarked as she slid back under the duvet.

He nodded and moved closer to her in the bed. “It definitely has.”

"And here was me thinking you preferred the days of dresses and stockings..." She teased as she settled into his arms.

“Was it that obvious that I did?” He grinned.

"Well how else do you explain the fact you were the only one to notice that time I ripped the top of my stockings?" She smirked.

“It was obvious to see.”

"It was six inches above the hem of my uniform!" She giggled.

“Clearly my eyes as well as my hands were wandering that day.”

"Just a tad. It was you that sent me up that ladder afterall."

“Only so I could perve up your dress.” He laughed gently.

"You were very insistent that you had to be the one to hold the ladder steady for me whilst I was up it."

“Of course! I didn’t fancy someone else looking up your dress like a pervert.”

"And you wonder why you got in trouble with Megan so much..!"

“Where else could I look?” He laughed. “Although we’re not just talking about that time, are we?”

"Oh no, not at all!" She twisted slightly in his arms to run her fingers down his chest.

“I am a very horny bloke. Who just happens to work with the most beautiful woman. It’s not my fault my eyes and my hands wandered all the time! That was your fault for being so bloody irresistible. It still is your fault.” He pointed out.

"I think the whole world knows now how incapable you are of keeping your hands to yourself around me!"

“By the amount of times you’ve been pregnant? If only they knew when and where most of them were conceived.” Charlie stroked her hip with his fingertips.

"I'm not sure the staff would be able to look us in the eye ever again if they did!" She kissed his neck.

“You’re very kinky and persuasive when you want to be.” He replied.

"I'm the kinky one?!" She raised her eyebrow at him.

“Oh I’m kinkier, am I?” His hand trailed up the side of her body.

"Debatable." She shrugged as she nibbled at his collarbone.

His hand cupped her breast.

A quiet moan fell from her lips.

“I love your body.” He whispered.

"Show me how much." She encouraged.

“What do you want me to do?”

"If you could do anything what would it be?"

“Right this minute?”

[roxxythebirbrps]

Reunited Part 1

Damien: *Traversing Diagon Alley, boredly, sick of his boring summer life in the countryside, as if it was any better than the humdrum life her lead at Hogwarts, not to say he didn’t love it just even the out of ordinary became ordinary and he had become closed off again, with his favorite/ most needy of students come and gone and Torin the only professor he called friend (and sometimes hoped her returned the gesture) run off and married, it was back to him and the living statue dragon Agidyne. He sighed, taking a drag from his cigarette and he looked into each store, there was nothing he really needed, just a chance away from home… but here he only thought of Hogwarts, and it was back to square one in his misery, but then he saw her… rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, he thought his lonely eyes were playing tricks on him, and he moved closer slowly to confirm what he hoped to be true… the girl at the flowerstand… she picked up a small yellow one… he almost laughed thinking the flower reminded him of the girl he thought she was, but when she was younger as a tiny Hufflepuff, and as he got closer he knew his eyes weren’t playing tricks, her hair had gotten longer and of course her frame more feminine… her smiles gratefully, there was no mistaking her* …. Charlie?

Charlie: *ever since she had graduated from Hogwarts she has been working at a store near her home, it was a muggle store which was a bit disappointing to her but she wanted to help pay for things while she lived at her parent’s place. Every so often she would head to Diagon Alley and walk down the way looking into the stores for a friendly face or a job opportunity though so far no luck. After a bit of time she stops in front of this flower stand, it had beautiful flowers and she couldn’t help herself from standing there and smelling the flowers. She picked up a lovely yellow flower sniffing it lightly, the fresh scent reminded her of the fields around the Hogwarts grounds and it reminded her of all those she was fond of. A small smile crept onto her face but disappeared as soon as she heard a familiar voice saying her name. She looks up to see the unmistakable chain smoking nurse who was one of the most important people i her life. She gasps lightly and drops the flower, tears started to form as she choked out his name* d-Damien? *wasting no more time she runs to him throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly*

Damien: Hey- *he didn’t even get the word out before he was slightly winded by her sudden hug, dropping his cigarette, but it was easily put out by the step back he had to take to steady himself, he hugged her back not expecting such a strong response, nevertheless grateful for it all, her hugged her back tightly patting her on the back as a good friend. She was the one he couldn’t forget, even after two years and more influx of students, no other saw him so often or was allowed to call him by his first name- as it should be- but he couldn’t help but missed the human interacting.* Yes, Yes… I’ve missed you too, kiddo. *her rubbed her back slightly, because even as many hugs a she gave him… it was still awkward as hell for him*

Charlie: Oh Merlin Damien I’ve missed you so much you don’t even know! *she laughs as a few tears fall from her eyes she was just so beyond happy to see him to hug him again to hear his voice. She missed everything about him even the smell of his favorite cigarettes, she was just so happy to see him again. She pulls back slightly still hugging him, smiling she rubs away the tears she was crying* god you still stink of cigarettes *laughs a bit*

Damien: *chuckles lightly, pulling back a little more and moving a hand up to ruffle her hair happily, he really did miss her a lot even if he didn’t show it nearly as much as she did* Oh don’t cry… the cigarette smell isn’t that bad is it? I was just smoking before I… before I saw you so that probably where the smell is coming from… You actually knocked the cig out my hand as you hugged me but that is besides the point really. How have you been?

Charlie: well good you shouldn’t be smoking *her stern talking to failed cause she just could not stop smiling she just couldn’t contain her excitement and throws her arms around him again hugging him more giggling happily* I’ve been okay, I’ve been working as at a muggle shop near my house so it’s a little disappointing to not be in the magic world that much. But I’ve missed our little talks and hanging out in the hospital wings with you. How have you been? keeping busy?

Damien: *smiles as she tells him off for smoking, not able to take her serious due to the smile on her face, catching her as she hugged him again and hugging her back* But your such a good little witch I’m sure there are plenty of places that’d love to have you! *ruffles her hair again* I’ve missed you at Hogwarts to, so had Agi… it been a bit lonely without you, I must say. I mean, i do have Agi and all the new student so it’s not to bad, I have to keep busy, keep my mind off of things… but why am I talk about all this? *laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his head* You want to grab a cuppa? On me. *smiles a little*

Charlie: Stop with the hair Damien! *laughs pushing his hands away from it* I should come and visit you at Hogwarts, maybe even visit a few other. And you are talking about all this because I asked you thats why. *giggles she moves to her side and hugs his arm* And we are going to talk a whole lot more as we share that cuppa you were talking about~ *smiles*

Damien: Oh, it’s just because I’ve missed you… and really, is there any really damage done to you hair? *smiles and blushes slight as she hugs his arm, thinking they shouldn’t be this close, but that him still thinking of her as a student and now they were both a little older and they hadn’t seen each other for a while, he smiles letting her stay there, patting her hand lightly* I’m not sure if you’re allowed inside Hogwarts if you aren’t a student or faculty, Charlie. But if you’d like to try, I’d welcome you… one second though. *grabbing up couple of flowers similar to the one she had in her hand, he goes to the owner of the flower shop, paying for the flowers and handing them to her* You were looking at these right? They remind me of you a bit… when you were younger. *he smiles a bit, the blushes hard when the flower shop owner says something about putting a flower in his girlfriend’s hair* Nonono! She’s not my mate! She’s a friend, and old friend I’d happened to run into today sir… Nothing more… *he turns to Charlie still very red, leading her away from the store* So about that cuppa…

Charlie: *she blushes as well about the girlfriend bit, she will admit seeing Damien again stirred up a bunch of her old childhood feelings for him. She giggles a bit at how flustered he was getting since at least it meant he felt some sort of something for her. And it made her giddy to think that he would want a bunch of flowers that reminded him of her even if it was of her younger. Nothing could be said to wipe the smile off her face, she hugged his arm tighter when they start to walk away giggling a bit* Damien you are beet red, is the idea of dating me so embarrassing? *laughs happily* Yes we were gonna get that cuppa.

Damien: *rubs the back of his head with a small laugh* Frankly, yes… But not because of you! No! You’re beautiful Charlie, you’re all grown up now- but young. far too young, *shakes his head* I couldn’t even begin to think of dating you without a guilty conscious… I mean, I shouldn’t be thinking of it at all, that’s creepy to you, right? I watched you grow up! I knew you from a kid, Kiddo… and in any case I’m an old man! Need to be getting someone my own age. *laughs a little* Now about that cuppa… right… *starts walking in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron, still blushing hard, he never thought of Charlie in that way, or so he thinks, and he never wants to as long as he can avoid it*

Charlie: *she blushes lightly at him calling her beautiful and tucks some stray hairs behind her ear, she let him ramble on until he gets back to going to get the cuppa* I’m gonna be honest Damien it doesn’t really bother me, Besides your not that old, you just act like an 80 year old *laughs teasing him smiling as they walk into the Leaky Cauldron* I’m not distracting you from anything you need to be actually doing am I? Like buying supplies and what not?

Damien: *smiles* Yes I am, I act like and 80 year old man because I’m only one foot away from 80 really! *laughs holding the door for her, glad for the slight change in subject* Trust me, you’re not distracting me from anything but my own thoughts…. I already gathered the supplies for the school year. *during the start of summer… yes, that early* Came here for a stroll really, thought I should reconnect with human kind and all. Guess I was right in coming today. *smiles pulling out a chair at one of the tables for her, setting the little bouquet down in front of himself*

Charlie: Your not a foot from 80 you’re like what? 30? Please my Dad is older than you. *chuckles sitting down in the chair he pulled out for her* well I’m glad you decided to come for a stroll *she smiles and leans forward against the table, this has got to be the best thing to happen to her since she graduated. Which sorta tells you how the last 2 years have gone for her, she leans her elbows against the table and smiles* I can’t have you becoming a real hermit now can I? I’m just going to have to visit you a whole bunch for the rest of this summer. Well if you’d let me. *smiles kicking her feet a bit, still as short as ever*

Damien: Possibly 30…? *32 but stopped caring a while ago* Well, after you left and Torin- erm- Professor Reinhart got married, I haven’t really talked to many people…. not that I talked to Reinhart that often, but he popped into the office from time to time. *shrugs* I guess a visitor through the summer wouldn’t be bad. I don’t have much at the cottage though, the only reason I have the cottage in the first place is because my parents wouldn’t allow me to just get an apartment just anywhere. Had to be in close to them, good thing I found a good wizarding community close by…. Seems to big to be living there alone though…. they might be trying to send a message. I should get some sort of pet just to mess with them. *sighs, running his hand through his hair, thinking again he should change the subject* But that won’t be much of a problem if you going to be visiting! *smiles a little* It’ll be just like before. Except that i hope you won’t be coming in with any bruises. *laughs*

Charlie: Oh wow Reinhart got married? then that means… *gasps lightly* He married Professor Winston?! oh wow *laughs* that should confuse the crap out of the students who are Gryffindor hates Slytherin forever. *snickers as she crosses her ankles under her chair listening to Damien tell her about his cottage and his parents smiling as he rambles on, laughing at his bruises comment* oh no I won’t show up bruised I’ll take a step into your place and trip then *laughs smiling leaning her chin on her hand* hmm a nice wizarding community….is the community just a neighborhood or is it like a whole wizarding village with shops and stuff like that? *if he says shops and stuff she might see if she could stay a week or two and try and find a job there cause she has no wizarding connections to get a job*

[flawsinourcxdexarchived-blog]

Human AU -- Revised

I’ve done quite a bit on this AU, but there are some things I need to fix, and a muse I need to add, so things will be switched around. Please keep in mind that the Human AU is not the Reverse AU. It’s simply an AU where Connor, Corwin and Cassius are all human beings from the beginning, and are human in other various AUs unless stated otherwise. I’ll put it under a read more, but I would greatly appreciate it if you could give this a read.

                                           The Stern Twins

Connor and Corwin are fraternal twins, as Corwin’s eyes are bright green and he has a birthmark at the small of his back in a small patch of skin that is ghostly white. He likes to joke that he was stabbed in the back in a past life as a way to explain the birthmark. Otherwise, they are identical in every way.

Both of the brothers have Asperger’s Syndrome. Both of them were punished by Amanda if their behavioral tics became a nuisance, and thus neither of them have healthy outlets. 

They were adopted by Amanda Stern by the age of four, after their parents died in a car accident. The adoption was closed and sealed, keeping them from learning of other biological family members like their cousin Cassius.

Amanda was still an emotionally and mentally abusive parent, manipulating the twins for most of their lives, and becoming distant and neglectful as a “punishment” for their “bad” behavior. As a result, Connor developed an introverted and eager to please personality, wanting to try and appease as many people as possible, and constantly apologizing for “messing up”, even in situations he wasn’t involved in, whereas Corwin became aggressive and angry, turning to drugs and alcohol as a way to rebel against Amanda.

                                                         Connor

Introverted but friendly. Tries to make peace with most everyone he meets as a way to try and negate any tension in the future faster. 

Impulsive but incredibly clumsy. Usually littered with bruises he doesn’t remember getting. Not everyone in the DPD thinks he should have even lasted a week in the police academy, much less graduated, as he once knocked himself unconscious during a gun training exercise when the kickback of the weapon hit him in the forehead.

Has an oral fixation as an outlet for his Asperger’s, and constantly needs something in his mouth, especially in moments of high stress. Keeps a huge assortment of blue flavored lollipops in his drawer, but when he runs out he turns to smoking cigarettes or chewing on pens. 

A bit socially awkward, having not a lot of chances to make friends during his school years, as most people thought he was odd or spacey. Corwin is one of the few people he can turn to as a friend, seeing as they’re family, and it’s Corwin he feels the safest to be himself around.

Is very picky about his own appearance. Always wants to look his best. His desk at the DPD is always neatly arranged, and he becomes a bit agitated when someone -- usually Gavin Reed -- messes things up.

Tries keeping a planner, but loses it every other week. Has resorted to using sticky notes, a habit he picked up from Hank Anderson, his partner.

Is in deep denial over his toxic relationship with Amanda. Considers her a good mother, but strict and a bit distant, though he chalks it up to her always being busy helping to run the corporation she works for. Subconsciously, he knows her abuse, and he knows that it’s wrong, but he doesn’t want to face it.

Suffers also from anxiety, and when incredibly stressed out, Connor suffers from anxiety attacks. Has frequent nightmares, but doesn’t like to discuss them.

Is deep in the closet about his attraction towards men, though he is capable of being attracted to women. But his main interest is in men, and while he isn’t sure why, he’s able to at least admit he knows a good looking man if he sees one. (Has a bit of a crush on Hank, tries to keep it smothered.)

Joining the police academy was his first real rebellion against Amanda, as she wanted to make him work an office job, or join her corporation to keep the Stern name as a legacy. It’s the first sign that he’s trying to break free from her hold, though it’s going to take a while.

Loves dogs to the point that, if given the chance, would adopt every single stray he comes across. As it is, he contents himself with volunteering with an animal rescue group and shelter, and he even adopted a brown and white pittbull he named Delilah, who is the most sweetest and even tempered dog to ever exist.

                                                        Corwin

Comes off as aloof, even aggressive, but generally friendly.

As people kept confusing him for Connor, Corwin started dying his hair black as early as fifteen years old. Ended up developing a sort of emo/grunge style to his clothing, so he doesn’t actively care about his appearance.

Also impulsive as hell, having started a fair few fights in his lifetime. Corwin is also a bit clumsy, but not to the extent that Connor is. Carpentry is something of a passion of his, including whittling, and thus developed a very steady hand in an effort to keep himself from accidentally cutting off a limb.

Has a bit of an oral fixation himself, but he either smokes cigarettes or pot, or he wears hoodies or jackets with drawstrings to chew on them. He also bites and gnaws at his nails.

Kind of a loner, didn’t really have a lot of friends growing up besides Connor. He got involved in a small gang in high school, but they didn’t really deal with things like murder. Mostly petty theft and fight rings.

Started rebelling against Amanda as young as twelve, having been able to recognize her abuse early on and not wanting to deal with it. As a result, Corwin was given the unofficial title of “Family Disappointment”, as he constantly pushes Amanda’s buttons and it ends with a screaming match between them.

While he acts like doesn’t care about anything, he’s very protective of Connor. They may have opposite personalities, but he loves his brother very much and does not tolerate anyone treating Connor with anything less than respect. He has gotten into quite a few fights with Gavin Reed because of this.

Has an extensive knife collection. No one knows why, no one has asked, and Corwin doesn’t offer information. Connor thinks he only has a knife collection to freak people out.

Is generally open about his pansexuality, and doesn’t really have a preference in either direction. 

As soon as he was eighteen, with Connor’s blessing, Corwin left Detroit to begin his life as a drifter. He legally had his last name changed, and keeps in contact with Connor through phone calls, emails and letters/postcards while away, and when he comes back into town, he crashes with Connor.

Loves most animals, but has an extreme fondness for snakes, adopting a rosy boa he named Ruby who’s his pride and joy.

Corwin was the one to teach Connor his coin tricks.

                                                     Cassius

Is the cousin of Connor and Corwin, older than the twins by four years. His mother was their father’s older sister, and during their early childhood, the trio held a tightknit bond despite the distance of their families living on opposite ends of the country.

After the accident that killed Connor and Corwin’s parents, and the adoption that took the brothers away, Cassius’ parents tried to fight for custody, but because Amanda had more money than them and thus had more influence, they were unsuccessful.

Cassius is a quiet and serious personality, with high intelligence and good empathy. He grew up rather outgoing, making plenty of friends, and he even skipped a grade in high school, resulting in him graduating a year early.

The number nine is a very lucky number for Cassius. No one really knows why, but because of the correlation, he earns the nickname “Nines”, and it carries on no matter where he goes or who he meets.

Wanted to join the military, but his mother was afraid for his safety, so Cassius ended up going to medical school and becoming an EMT instead. He has a dream of eventually working his way back through medical school to either become a nurse or a doctor.

Is endlessly patient, and has a fondness for children.

Is bisexual, and doesn’t have a preference either way, though his friends have jokingly said he has a thing for “morons”. This may be proven later on if he meets Gavin Reed and ends up developing romantic feelings for him.

When he’s twenty five, he goes looking for Connor and Corwin, as his family never forgot the twins and he wants to reunite with them. He gets into contact with Connor through Facebook, and within a month manages to reunite with the twins, rekindling their old bond, much to Amanda’s displeasure.

Despite the clumsy nature of his cousins, Cassius is quite graceful and fluid in his movements. One would think his height would work against him.

Does hold a startling resemblance to the twins, almost to the point of people thinking he might be a fraternal triplet, but his height, muscle mass and even a bit of his facial structure are enough to prove that he isn’t their brother, as well as his blue eyes and more naturally curly black hair.

Loves most animals, but hates bugs. He has a Russian Blue cat he named Star.

[sabineelectricheart]

Exam Stress

Summary: Bambi is stressed with the end-of-year exams. Ruka is there to help, but when something serious happen, he might not be equiped to deal with it.

Rating: T - Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

Words:1800

Notes: Next month, a new school year starts in Japan. May God have pity on their souls.

Spring is shining over Habataki City, and as the snow melts and the blossoms at the park start to shily return, a dark cloud drift over the high school students of the area.

It is time for the final exams.

The stress and anxiety of their upcoming tests was more than enough to set Bambi on edge. For the week leading up to it, she is a train wreck, more than once messing up at her part-time job at the flower shop or during volleyball practice.

Her friends were quick to realize what was going on, and they did, for their benefit, try their best to calm her down and get her to relax on the days preceding the exams. However, she is soon to catch up that none of them really cared or were at all concerned with their results. Ruka has his eidetic memory, Kouichi does not really care either way, Karen is set on studying abroad and Miyo is confident that her occasional study sessions would be enough.

Seeing them tranquil and resigned to their fates only made her feel worse, and so all of their attempts only seemed to be short-term fixes. As within a few hours, the girl was back into her panicked state, if not even worse for wear. 

Ruka had caught on to what was going on, and was especially preoccupied over his friend. She usually performed exceedingly well in tests, but the emotional cost is becoming unsustainable. He also notes with grave concerned that none of them were in the same class: he and his brother were at 2-B, Miyo and Karen were allocated at 2-C and Bambi was in 2-A. Therefore, there was no-one to take care of her during lessons.

Alas, he began preparing himself, should something happen. He went to the library, using the computers and the expertise of the school nurse to do some research on anxiety and panic attacks. Things he knew by just looking at her, things she was prone to do.

After he exhausted those sources, he began asking around. Miyo was happy to teach them some meditation techniques, while Karen had an array of incenses and aromatherapy products to lend. For more practical advice, Seiji and his friend at the Class Council had also plenty to say.

The days went on and Ruka was preparing for war. Be what may happen, he felt equipped to deal with any situation.

However, the hour and a half before their test, Bambi panicked and found herself at the rooftop. She attempted to take some breaths to calm her nerves and stop her hands from shaking, but it seemed her impending doom was always somewhere in the back of her mind.

Despite being lunch hour, it was fairly empty, as students busied themselves in the library, hoping to cram as much content in the little time that remained. The only students that hung around the roof were the slackers, to which she was not acquainted, but that had little interest on her, in any case.

The rooftop is, these days, the prime spot to find a slacker, and it is a particular slacker she is looking for. She hoped that, if she spent a little time with Ruka, she would be able to calm herself enough so she could get her test done and out of the way.

Kouichi looked up as she approached, nodding to her in greeting. Ruka shot him a confused look before turning, finding her walking over. He stood from his seat, meeting her halfway with a concerned look.

“Bambi? What’s wrong?” His hands flew to her upper arms, steadying her as he looked her over.

“I... I just need to relax for a little bit, and I couldn’t do it downstairs.” A few tears slipped from sher eyes unwillingly. “Is it alright that I stay here for a while?”

Ruka wiped the escaping tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Of course! Of course, it’s alright, Bambi. I have no problem with that.” He pulled she into a hug.

The girl rested her head against his chest, hoping to hear the rhythmic beating of his heart.

“Is this about your test today?” Ruka asked, concerned.

He felt her nod against his chest, tightening his grip on her body.

“Yeah...” She mumbled out.

“Don’t. Don’t feel stupid, baby. Everyone gets testing anxiety.” He responded, rubbing soothing circles into her back in an attempt to calm her down. “Kou looks at his math tests like they’re going to eat him.”

“Seven did eat nine.” He stated, causing a roar of laughter from the surrounding students.

“That’s so bad.” Bambi mumbled, having her speech smothered against the lean figure of the blond boy.

Ruka chuckles, turning his attention back to she and placing a sweet kiss on the top of her head.

“You have nothing to worry about.” He whispered in convinced assurance into her short hair. “You’re going to knock it out of the park, as usual. Or… What’s the equivalent for volleyball?”

“Score a set point.” She provided, tiredly.

The boy nodded, excitedly. “Yeah! You’ll score a set point on these tests.”

“This test already caused me to have a panic attack this morning.” Bambi grumbled. “I’m tired, and I’m hungry. I couldn’t eat.”

Ruka pulled her back, staring down at her eyes with concern. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“I was scared. This test is everything.” The girl argued.

“Look at me.” He demanded, and Bambi lifted her eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“With all my heart.”

“Then trust me when I tell you that you are going to pass this test. I have no doubt in my mind. You’ll do great.”

She hugged him again. “Thank you, Ruka.”

“Anytime. I’m a hero, after all.” He inflated his chest. “Why don’t you sit with us? We can listen to Kou make a fool of himself.”

Ruka wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to sit down against the concrete railing. As with the many other times she spent her lunch upstairs, the boys from 2-B quickly fell into conversation with one another.

Soon, Bambi felt that the stress and anxiety were quickly falling away as she talked, snuggling closer into the blond Sakurai’s side. Then, as she started to feel better, the bell rung.

“It’s time for me to go.” She whispered.

Ruka quickly picked up on the fear laced in her voice.

“You are going to do great. Do you want me to walk you back to your class?” He offered, moving to stand up before she caught his hand.

The schoolgirl smiled sadly. “No, I’m good. Enjoy the rest of your lunch.”

“OK, then. Good luck and remember what I told you.”

“I will. Thank you again.” She forced a smile, as she stood.

However, Bambi thinks that she might have stood up too quickly, as she found black dots spotting her vision as she walked closer to the stairway door.

“Bambi?!”

It was the last thing she heard before she blacked out.

Ruka turned, just in time to watch as her knees buckled. He shot up, running to grab her body before she hits the floor. His arms quickly wrap around her upper body, cradling her to his chest.

“Bambi?!” He yelled, worry seeping into him in waves.

The blond boy gently shook her, finding her unresponsive. He sank to his knees, still holding her close to his chest as Kou ran to the two of them.

“She must have fainted…” Kouichi whispered, as he quickly checked her pulse and finding the rhythm of it much faster than normal.

The other could not hear anything. He is in despair, he is panicking, and he is not sure what he is supposed to be doing. He has not prepared for such a scenario

“How’s her breathing?” The tallest boy asked Ruka, who just stared down at their friend with complete fear. 

“Ruka! Don’t zone out on me!” Kouichi yelled at him, gently pulling her from his arms.

Resting her on the floor of the cafeteria, the brunet rested his ear on her thin chest. From this position, he could gauge that she was barely moving her thorax, but she was still breathing, even if very shallowly.

Ruka just stared down at Bambi in utter fear. His hand trembling as it came to rest in hers. He leaned forward moving the hair from her face and placing a kiss on her forehead.

Kouichi quickly unbuttoned the first couple of buttons on her blouse and the belt she had wrapped around her waist. He placed his ear on her chest again, finding her breathing started to even out. The other 2-B students, in turn, helped clear out a small perimeter, allowing the girl to keep her modesty.

A moment later, her eyes opened, winking for focus. Ruka sighed with relief, wiping the tears from his eyes as he kissed her once more on the forehead.

“What happened?” Bambi asked, wondering how she ended up on the floor. 

“You fainted. It scared me half to death. I saw you fall and I didn’t know what to do.” Ruka pulled she into his arms.

The girl looked confused. “I fainted?”

The blond chuckled. “It’s okay, Bambi. It’s probably from all that stress about your test.”

He brushed back some of her hair, buttoning up the two buttons on her blouse while she was still a bit out of it, so she would not stress over that as well.

She gripped his arm, moving to stand when Ruka stopped her. “I wouldn’t stand up immediately. Are you feeling alright?”

“A little funny, but I feel fine.” Bambi mumbled.

He nodded, kissing her temple.

“I know you’ll be missing your test, but I think it would be best if you just went home.” He suggested, “I’ll take you home on the bike. I’ll ask Karen to pick up your stuff from your classroom and bring them back to your house later.”

“I guess that’s for the better, too. Thank you.” Bambi nodded toward Kou as his brother pulled her from the ground, his arm securely around her waist for support.

“Get better, little sis.” The tall teen responded, serious. “We can’t have you falling around the school like that.”

Ruka guided the girl toward the back door, damn the rest of the classes he had today. As she made it to the entrance gate, the blond helped her up on the bike. As he moved on to sit on it as well, she stopped him, pulling him back closer to her face.

“Thank you, Ruka.” Bambi said, her expression embarrassed. “I really appreciate what you did today. This month, really.”

“Anything for you.” He winked. “Let's get some food on your stomach and take you home.”

*_*_*_*_*

Tokimeki Memorial Masterlist

Girl’s Side: 3rd Story Masterlist

[onkey-bedtime-stories]

Tremble (3/3)

WINTER

EQUINOX

SPRING

***

“I’m started questioning for what you had your studio for and bought it with such a fortune if you’re pretty much splattered on the floor of my house almost every day like this.”

Kibum kicked his leg on the way to drop himself on his favorite couch. He has lots of paperwork on his hands, round glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose.

“There’s no food there.”

“Delivery reached that area too. And that studio is literally two hundred meters away from a sushi restaurant!”

Never during his career Kibum sold a place without doing a research of the pro-cons from the neighborhood. Taemin stirred and moved to Kibum’s kitchen to prove him that he’s there only for food. But the words came out from him later said differently.

“It’s just lonely over there. Woke up there, worked there, then spent the whole evening editing pictures or sketching some concept for the next photo session. I feel trapped.”

“Wasn’t that the exact reason why you wanted that building at the first place? To save time not to drive back and forth from your apartment and work place?”

“Hah,” he gulped the strawberry’s milk he found in one shot, must be Gwiboon’s, he thought “I never knew it would be that lonely. Guess it’s just a stupid ambition I had to show the world that I’m finally here, at the very top of my career in such young age, after so many objections I faced in the past?”

Kibum torn his eyes from the paper before him, “Honey, your ambition is not stupid. Everyone has a dream and it worth to fight for even if merely a simple one.”

“So you don’t mind if I stop by your place anytime?”

He shrugged, “You’re my only friend, Tae, if I kicked out the last person who can deal my stubbornness, then who’d stay to take care of me on the days I decided to weep?”

“Lots of people want to take care of you but you pushed them away and whose fault is that? You can just literally point your finger and those men and women would voluntarily crawl toward you!”

“Stop it right there or I’d really kick you out of my house. We started with your issue how come you dodged the bullet so easily?”

“Trying to be a secret lover and you'd have thousand tricks to not get caught in an awkward situation.”

“Wow. That’s huge coming from you. Leave him then, and go find another one! You deserve so much better!”

“You sound like Jinki just now. So annoying.”

“Ah. Talking about that friend of yours, is he still pestering you asking for my number?”

“Nope. He stopped about a week ago. I thought it was because he already got your number somehow from other place.”

“I would attack you first if that happened, knowing you’re the only human chain linking us. He might just get tired.”

“Hmm, that would be possible. He tried to get you but you are more slippery than eel, so yeah.”

“Did you just compare me to a water creature?!”

This time is Taemin’s turn to shrug, “What else should I compare you? Jinki was there hot skin and flesh and you just washed him hard with your cold treatment with a simple sentence ‘I need to call my daughter’? Weren’t you just being sneaky?”

“You don’t know how it feels to be me at that time, Lee Taemin.”

Kibum and Soyu were best friends back in college. Both are free spirited and love to run against the world circling around them. One day they met during lunch break, two years after they graduated and already worked and were climbing into steady career. Soyu blurted out that she wanted to have baby. Kibum was jokingly suggesting her to go to the sperm bank and get the donor. What he didn’t expect was she suddenly asked him to be the donor instead since she already knew him and claimed that Kibum has everything she needed for the good qualities for the baby.

He was dumbfounded for a while but then without hesitation, he agreed to the request. The following months, they went to the hospital and learned about all the procedure and got it done on their fourth visit. Soyu said she would raise the baby by herself, she didn’t ask anything from Kibum besides to be present on the labor for the moral support.

However, Kibum couldn’t find him detaching from them. He loved Soyu and their daughter. He stood by their side the whole time and when Gwiboon turned two, there was nothing on the way stopping Kibum to ask her to marry him. Soyu herself, didn’t find anything to turn the request down as she loved him as well.

Their wedding day was the cutest, it was a simple ceremony, with the closest family and friends, with little Gwiboon waked her mother down the aisle. Taemin spent four of his precious roll films to capture the moment and proudly said up until these days that those were one of his best works so far.

The marriage was their beautiful sanctuary for the three of them. It was actually pleasing, physically, mentally, sexually. Until one day, they realized they loved each other not more than best friends. The fight came more often, the buried dreams reappeared to the surface, and they blamed each other more easily than worked out the obstacles together.

Kibum stopped trying and Soyu stopped caring. Being a wife was never been her dream and Kibum started to get scare with the idea of him only forcing his dream to have a family to someone he cared the most who had a very different goal in life. He still loved her as best friend, as his daughter’s mother, but she cannot fill the hole gapping inside Kibum’s heart.

He turned his priority to Gwiboon and Gwiboon only. Moreover after their decision to end the getting unhealthy marriage. He focused his mind and devoted his time for the soon to turn six years old girl. The smile of the love of his life was enough to mend the wound he has. It was hard a little bit when the court gave the custody of the girl to Soyu. But they talked about it and Soyu job’s in Paris turned out requires her to travel more often so secretly, since a month ago, they’re preparing all the paperwork for the kid to be able to move back with her father and started her school here instead in Paris.

Then came Jinki, out of nowhere, confiscated Kibum’s mind with his blinding smile, putting him in the middle of the scale with Gwiboon and him in each side. He needs him to concentrate with his life and Gwiboon’s at this very moment. But he cannot lie to himself that he wants Jinki to be part of it. It’s super silly and ridiculous, he thought, how can a man ruin his composure just with a kiss? How can he be lured just with something that looked like a remedy for his lust? 

“No. I wouldn’t know. But don’t be scared. Who knows he might be the answer of everything?”

“I’m currently not asking, I don’t need an answer.”

“Kim Kibum, you know what I mean.”

“Then tell me. Tell me how you sit down an innocent little girl and said that her father already has someone he likes and that person is not a woman like her mother but a very handsome and charming chef she met at the supermarket instead? How you can tell your own daughter that you’re bisexual?”

***

Jinki’s driving his truck back to the city after traveled east to get some goodies for his new recipe. He rolled down the window and poked his elbow out, enjoying the breeze blowing his side, gently reminds him that spring’s finally here.

Ah, spring.

He almost forgot that he hates spring. It was spring when Donghae dropped the bomb in the middle of heartfelt reunited dinner, asking him to stop seeing each other, after three weeks of break since their biggest fight ever. Having his expectation already high in the air when he called Jinki telling him that he missed him and wanted to meet, of course the question was a perfect jab on his chest.

Jinki remembered how he was stammering asking the reason why and apologizing to Donghae continuously for forcing his ambition to actually start a family together with him. However, behind his tears he could see how Donghae didn’t budge at all and stayed stern, indicating that was his final request to Jinki.

He said he loved Jinki but the relationship getting harder because Donghae thought at that point, they supposed to already know each other by heart but he still found the needs to try and try harder to please or at least understand Jinki.

Jinki knew it was bullshit but he couldn’t do anything. He’s exhausted to force himself and chase Donghae who kept insisting running to the directions pole apart with him. Donghae was his first and longest serious relationship. The empty space he left swallowed him hard. Jonghyun had to nurse him the whole next month after the breakup to prevent Jinki harming himself. He even took a break from the restaurant to heal himself before realized that the more he became busier, the faster he would forget the man he used to dream to have a family with.

When the packed-restaurant’s schedule didn’t help, the news of Donghae’s engagement that reached him three months after the dreadful evening did. The pain slowly became hatred. And when the hatred piled up in each corner of his mind, he had the urge to wash it off with alcohol and series of one night stand. Once the person he spent the night with left, the pain started to grow back and his only escape is repeating the same pattern again and again.

Months and years passed by, and he doesn’t care about spring anymore. It was back to be just a season until Kibum and his sinful lips dragged him into the new cycle of sleepless night. Never in life after Donghae he waited for something. He was done waiting. It was dreading and disappointing. But here he is, expecting his phone to ring and show him unknown number with that cheery voice entailed behind if he picked it up.

We burned and we bled We try to forget But the memories left Are still haunting The walls that we built From bottles and pills We swallow until We're not talking

He turned up the volume of his stereo when the new song from the radio started playing. Blasting the music helped him back then, might as well give it another try this time. 

I I am a man on fire You A violent desire What a dangerous night to fall in love Don't know why we still hide what we've become Do you want to cross the line? We're running out of time A dangerous night to fall in love

Jinki slammed the steer wheel. The possibility meeting a new person after Donghae was never passed his mind. Let alone developing a crush to them. Call it miracle, but Kibum did flick the switch inside him so easily, forcing him to forget whatever he believed about soulmate and stuff before.

He wished he was in a fairy-tale where he everything can just have magically have happy ending at the finish line. The hope though, just evaporated to the thin air when he faced the reality laid before him. Kibum is a father and Jinki understands very well that blood is thicker than anything. If he couldn’t compete with a woman from another rich family to marry his high school sweetheart, how on earth he would be able to win the heart of a man who already gave his life to the cutest girl he ever met?

Started a stranger A lover in danger The edge of a knife The face of an angel The heart of a ghost Was it a dream? He was stranger. Kibum was stranger. Jinki thought the latter would prefer that way. Three weeks into the spring and Jinki’s about to believe that way. He slowed the speed of his truck when he arrived to the neighborhood of his restaurant. If people said everyone would have the one that got away, maybe for him, Kibum is that one.

Jinki jumped off and slammed the door, unaware, or choosing to ignore his surrounding, he doesn’t care that the sound startled some people who shared the small street next to his kitchen back door. He unloads one by one, the wooden cart carried the fresh ingredient he acquired this morning. Usually, Jinki only did the buying in the beginning of the week. He went on Friday morning just because he couldn’t sleep well these past three days and Jonghyun suggested him to take some air and go check the farm knowing that his best friend loves it so much.

Jonghyun was right, Jinki hates to admit but that man is always right. Though it doesn’t completely cure him, at least he feels all the burden tad lighter. Strangely, the weather is warmer today, making him nonchalantly rolled his oversized white t-shirt sleeves up his shoulder causing two women walking by almost tripped their own heels.

He chortled, smirk’s evident in his face knowing he still got it after beaten up quite hard by the reality.

“If you told me before you have that cute mole on your bicep, I wouldn’t have waited until spring.”

How unreal it is, hearing the voice he could only imagined these past days. Holy shit, he couldn’t breathe, he actually kept his promise. Kim Kibum’s standing there, at the sidewalk across where Jinki parked his truck, looking more astonishing now when he’s under the sun instead of moonlight. The pair of bow lips curved beautifully, speeding up Jinki’s heartbeat with the sight.

“Well, someone forgot to tell me he has some kind mole fetish last time we met, I guess.”

Now that he saw Kibum giggling and walking closer to the side of the street where he is, only Jinki can start believe his own eyes. The pink tint is crystal clear adorning his cheeks, prominently shading the fine sculpted bones underneath. If before he said Kibum was already beautiful, this time Jinki honestly doesn’t know how the man who stepped closer to his side manages to be even more mesmerizing.

“Did I keep you waiting for too long?”

“Since it’s 21st century already, I was expecting a phone call. Or at least text message. This.. this is something beyond any scenario I ever think about.”

“I don’t do anything mainstream,” Kibum ran his hand toward Jinki’s forehead to wipe the sweat that makes his bangs stuck on it and the tingling grazing his fingertips are still the same, “So you think about me a lot?”

“More than I was planning to if I may say.”

“Good. Because I would be very disappointed if you said any different.”

“It was very flattering, but I’m actually the one who has the right to be disappointed.”

“How could so?”

“Spring started three weeks ago yet you only appeared today when I’m putting the ugliest outfit out of any day?”

Kibum looked at Jinki, he wears his plain white shirt with old washed jeans, blue plaid shirt tied around his waist with old converse covering his feet, he then burst into huge laughter that ringing like a Sanctus to Jinki’s ears, “Seriously, I would jump you right away with this outfit if we’re not surrounded by two grannies over there and group of kids exploring the neighborhood near my car.”

With that, Jinki’s sold. He slid his hand over Kibum’s waist and captured the pink flesh under his nose he’s been longing. As if it was automatically, Kibum wrapped his hands on the nape of Jinki’s neck, pressing their mouths as close as possible.

All the anxiety clouding Jinki’s mind slowly wiped out with every bites Kibum left on his lower lip. Their tongue tied to each other, trying to match the shape of imaginary puzzle they kept in it and lock it forever.

“So this is it?”

They rest their forehead to each other’s, nose brushing lightly, and Kibum hands secure Jinki’s face by his cheeks, hesitantly detached their lips just because they realized they still are human who needs some air to proceed.

“I kept my promise, didn’t I?”

“Appreciate that a lot,” Jinki pecked Kibum’s lips quickly making the other blushed once again, “Worth the wait.”

“Then.. care to continue where we left before?”

“I finished working tonight by ten.”

Kibum pouted immediately and Jinki couldn’t help to laugh, “What about fifteen minutes quickie in my car?”

“Honey, I’m afraid if it’s involving me you need at least one hour.”

“It takes that long to get it up?”

“No, it takes that long to get it down.”

Kibum whined, chewing his inner cheek, “Great, now I need to buy iron trunks to restrain myself until ten.”

Jinki cracks on the spot and deep kissing Kibum once again, doesn’t even care his lips already slightly swollen after his moves.

“You would look godly good in it, I bet.”

“I leave it in your imagination.”

“Damn, now I need to buy those trunks as well!” Kibum threw his head back laughing at the curse, Jinki didn’t miss a chance mouthing the adam apples on the his exposed neck, “My place or your place?”

“Mine. My daughter’s staying at her Nana’s house.”  

“Fine with that. But what would be my guarantee that you’re not going to vanish after this?”

Kibum found Jinki being possessively anxious cute. He pulled out his phone and pressed some number, “Let’s have some fun.”

He put it in the speakerphone mode. Jinki still has no idea until someone shrieked from the other line.

“You better have a fuckin’ good reason disturbing me during my work.”

“Lovely to hear you scream. Can you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Can you give me Jinki’s number?”

They can hear Taemin choked so hard, both need to suppress the laughter that almost spoiled the fun.

“Can I give you what? Did you take some drug? Did you crash into some—oh, dear Lord! Are you okay?! You’re not in an accident, are you?!”

“Chill, Lee Taemin.. I just think, since Gwiboon will stay at my Mom’s place until weekend.. Why not inviting him you know.. to fool around and maybe have some sexy time.. who knows?”

“Shit! Kim Kibum! As much as I want you to stop pushing away people around you, doesn’t mean you can being a cheap jerk like this! Jinki’s my friend and if you’re going to hurt him even a millimeter, I won’t allow it with all my might bec—“

Kibum nudged Jinki’s sides and he took the clue so well.

“Taem, just give him my number. I don’t think I can hold it anymore since Kibum learned a new move with his tongue and I want it somewhere else.”

“Wait. Who is th—WHAT THE HECK! LEE JINKI?!”

***

“You’re right. You have the best bed in the world,” Kibum mumbled, cheek pressed to Jinki’s chest, his arm secured on Jinki’s naked waist.

“It’s just because it has me on it,” he said sleepily, his palm tracing Kibum’s back. He can’t get enough touching his smooth skin.

“Oh, aren’t you cocky?”

“Of course I am.. I have a really good one down there.”

Kibum slapped his tummy affectionately, “You’re by far, the most perverted person I’ve ever been with.”

“Should I be happy or should I be sad?”

Instead of answering, Kibum lifted his limb and start peppering Jinki’s navel with the kiss, going straight up passing his chest and collar bones before finally devouring his plump lips.

“I still wonder sometimes how could I betrayed myself and made you wait more than I intended.”

“I was this close to sell my goodies since you seemed uninterested.”

“Hmm,” Kibum slipped his hand under the blanket and rubbing his length just like the way Jinki likes it, “You’d get lots of money with this size, though.”

“Are you willing to trade it?”

“After almost every night have it? Not a chance,” he pecked his nose, making Jinki beamed into huge grin. He lowered his hand to Kibum’s ass and when he grabbed handful of the flesh, the latter voluntarily pressed himself closer to his side.

“You’re so beautiful, Jinki.”

“You’re more beautiful.”

“That I know.”

Jinki chuckled before he pulled Kibum’s chin closer to catch his lips, marking the bow lips as his, again and again.

“I want you to meet someone.”

“Who is that?”

“My daughter,” Kibum smiled nervously, and Jinki caressed his cheeks to ease his mind, letting him know that he’s completely find with the fact that Kibum is a father.

“I don’t know if you know this, but I sort of have met your girl before.”

“I know, she told me. And that brat never stops whining to me ever since she wanted to meet his Mr. Handsome Prince again. She even cut your face from that article in the magazine and put it on her wardrobe. I never imagined before that I need to compete with my own daughter.”

Jinki smiles remembered the sudden nickname he got after helping her with her yoghurt.

“If I need to confess, I was very worried before how you would still give me chance if your entire being already own by that little girl.”

“Well, that kid is already an obstacle in such a young age. I wonder what she would grow up into.”

“She already has your look, at the first place.”

“Even her mother complained she has no trace at all on her.”

They talked about Kibum and Soyu situation since their second date. Jinki’s very mature handling it all but Kibum still worried to death he brought more than burden to Jinki with his baggage. On the other hand, Jinki already came up clear with Kibum that even though they started everything slowly, he’d take every step seriously and wished he would try as hard as Jinki.

“Let her be, she still has a very long way to go.”

“You sure you never had kid before?”

“You think I’d be still chasing you if I already had a daughter?”

The shocking expressions on Kibum’s face giving a wave of laughter once again to Jinki. He’s one that hid his feeling very personal to himself, it’s still fascinating for him to see Kibum just put everything up on his face.

“Just kidding, Honey.. So, when do you want me to stop by your house?”

“Err, tomorrow?”

“Is nine too early for her?”

Kibum kissed him again excitedly, “She woke up at five and nags at me to make her pancake.”

It will be hard to explain to her about their relationship but Kibum wants to dismiss at least one of his worry by getting them familiar to each other first. What happened after, he’ll let the future Kibum deal with it.

“Ah. So she likes pancake? Then tell them her Handsome Prince will make her ones.”

“Stop making me jealous already,” Kibum pouted cutely and Jinki needs to control himself not to turn their position and ruined that mouth again.

“Do you want me to prove myself again?”

“Try.”

“Well, I know you’re tired, but can we have another one before we go for lunch?”

“Are you a machine or what? Trying to destroy my ass, huh?”

Truthfully, Kibum’s been waiting for those words came out his lips. But play hard to get once in a while won’t hurt.

“It’s because you kept me waiting for too long!”

“Why you kept bringing that up? I already admitted it was a mistake!”

“Because that stupid trick wasted my time. Wasted our time. I need to catch up the amount of sex we should have had if we hit it off right away.”

“God, Jinki!”

“What?!”

“You’re such a dork, you know that?”

“I don’t mind.. You like me anyway.”

“Jonghyun would complain once we exited that door.”

“Let’s just say this is me getting revenge. Hundred days I spent sleeping with my earphones plugged and woke up with the sore in both ears because Jonghyun and Minho were beyond what you can call loud.”

Kibum ducked his head and lapped Jinki’s collar bone painstakingly slow. When he raised his head up, a mischievous smirk spreads all over his face.

“So what are you waiting for?”

Jinki’s never been so aroused in such early morning.

***

“Mr. Handsome Prince!!!”

“Gwiboon be careful!”

She’s too excited she has no time to listen to her father and just ran to Jinki’s open arms. Once she’s in his reach, he wrapped her so tight and swept her from the ground.

Kibum secretly rubbing his back, afraid to upset the little girl if he just sprung and kissed him, “I thought today was supposed to be our date.”

That’s how they planned it one week ago. But the last minute, Jinki texted him to bring Gwiboon as well to join their lunch.

“This is a date,” Jinki whispered in between rambles the little girl kept making since the first second she saw him.

They headed to the table Jinki already reserved, this time as well, Gwiboon refused to sit next to Kibum as well and glued to Jinki. Even when the waiter came to take their order, she only listen to Jinki’s suggestion, completely ignore Kibum’s offer.

“Oh here we go again,” Kibum rolled his eyes but Gwiboon’s busy telling Jinki about how her week’s going, “Ya! Kim Gwiboon. Aren’t you too young to make me jealous? I’m your father!”

“I know, Daddy,” she spat her respond very fast before turned her head back to Jinki, “Nana said, I need to eat carrot but it tastes weird.”

“Look at you, the exact carbon copy of your Daddy.”

“That’s what Nana said!” she screeched enthusiastically , “What is carbon copy, anyway?”

“It means, you’re exactly like me, Honey.”

Her eyes rounded to a pair of crystal ball, “Really?! I looked like Daddy? I’m cool like Daddy?!”

“Gwiboon, Honey.. You’re waaayyy cooler and more beautiful than me.”

“Nooo, Daddy is more beautiful,” she turned into a ball of glee, eyes almost swallowed by her puffy cheeks.

“Now that I agree,” Jinki winked and pleased with the bashful smile arose on the other man’s face.

“So, Mr. Handsome Prince, why are we here today?”

Gwiboon folded her arms together in front of her buffed chest, “Daddy! That’s my nickname!”

“I can’t call him Mr. Handsome Prince?”

“No!”

“So what should I call him?”

“I don’t know.”

Jinki saw the gap for him to slide in, “Can Daddy call me ‘Honey’ then?”

Kibum almost choked to death, how dare he say such things? Quickly he wiped his mouth and glance to the little girl who’s now knitted her brows together and pursed her lips, put her best effort to concentrate as if it’s a sudden death question, not even aware that her father’s nervously waiting for the next thing spilled out from her mouth.

“Umm, okay, he can. As long as he’s not calling you Mr. Handsome Prince.”

Both men relieved in unison, however, Jinki hasn’t convinced yet. He’s about to ask further but their food came, he had to wait after the waiter the waiter finished serving all their order and left.

“Kim Gwiboon, do you know why we are here?” Jinki’s back to his initial talk.

“To eat lunch?” she answered innocently, leaving Kibum shaking his head, still amused with everything she managed to compose with that little copy of his own bow lips.

“Besides that?”

“Umm, no? Is it Mr. Handsome Prince birthday?”

“No, it’s not my birthday,” he fixed the uneven bangs on her forehead, “We have lunch today, because I need Gwiboon’s permission.”

“My permission?”

Questioning looks not only washed over her face, but also Kibum’s who’s totally clueless where this conversation heading to.

“Yes. I want to ask Gwiboon, can I be your Daddy’s boyfriend?”

Kibum doesn’t know where Jinki found such gut to bring this up. At the moment he’s torn to the idea of runaway and kick Jinki’s ball under the table. Strangely, Gwiboon doesn’t seem to be bothered at all. He hoped Jinki would turn his way so he could ask some explanation or at least moral support because the little girl might explode to the fact that he’s dating her idol.

Far from anyone expectation, she quietly scoped the cream pasta in front of her and nods slowly while savoring her lunch.

“Aren’t you already?”

Kibum’s eyes almost escaped his skull. His heart beats rapidly and he can feel blood rushing all over his head. Gwiboon continues telling some random stories on what happened to her during her stay at her grandmother’s house and about their puppies who’s getting smarter day by day, while eyes focusing on her favorite pasta dish, her little hand struggle to handle the weight of each strand of the fettuccine, but refused the help from Jinki, proving to the world once again that she’s the daughter of Kim Kibum.

Contented with the rhetorical question, Jinki’s finally lifted his head to Kibum who’s about to shoot hundreds curses and questions. Before he’s able to open his mouth, Jinki stretched his hand across the table, with the palm facing the air, inviting Kibum to reach it.

No need more words, he took one deep breath, and wrapped Jinki’s hand in his. Their eyes talking silently, making a beautiful melody only they could listen to.

To Kibum, out of all the times their eyes caught each other’s smile, Jinki beams the brightest today. His heart trembled once again, remind him to the first night their world clashed together. And with that, Kibum knows, he entrusted his heart in the right hand.

***

corrected a bit from the initial post in my AFF, typo wise only, so didn’t change anything. written in an alternate universe where people can love anyone they want and show it to the world as they pleased because love is beautiful. happy pride month! :)

[allthestripes]

Thank You For Existing - 2/4 Speaking Through Music series

It was senior year for Tweek and Craig, and Tweek’s fame was still growing. After his first tour, his life had been a whirlwind, but Craig’s steady, calming presence had kept him grounded enough to function. The Tweak’s had decided firmly that their son would graduate from South Park high and not tour during school. As such, his agent called frequently to see if Tweek had new songs to put out. It got to the point that Craig began answering the phone for his boyfriend, as Tweek would just scream into the receiver.

His studies took up most of his time, along with having to work at his parent’s coffee shop. They didn’t care that he was a famous musician making millions already; they needed an extra worker, and he was the best for the job. As such, the shop was always busy, people from all over the country flooding the small town to meet Tweek and have him make them coffee.

It was getting close to prom season, and Tweek was beginning to panic. He hadn’t been able to write any songs in almost a month, and his agent was breathing down his neck for something, anything.

“Craig, he wants something for people to play at proms across the country. That’s so much pressure!” he wailed one evening, curling up in his desk chair, legs tucked under his chin. His bandaged fingers pulled at his hair with one hand while the other was chewed on, Tweek glaring tiredly down at the page in front of him, covered in writing and crossed out words. His floor was littered with discarded ideas, his trashcan overflowing.

Craig sat behind him on his bed, watching him. When Tweek began to rip at his head, he got up and crossed the room, gently pulling his hands away wrapping his arms around him, locking Tweek’s arms at his sides. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he said. “I know you’re worried, but babe, people love you so much, they’ll understand that you need time off to think and live your own life.” He pressed a kiss to the top of his head and smiled when he was rewarded with a soft laugh.

“You’re right, I’m allowed to look after myself. I’m not here just to pump out song after song. I have things I want to do,” he agreed, sounding more cheerful than he had in weeks. He tilted his head back, planting a kiss of his own under Craig’s chin. “Thanks, Craig.”

Blushing, Craig stepped back. “Anyway,” he said after clearing his throat. “I came over today because I wanted to ask you to go to prom with me.”

Tweek turned his chair to look at his boyfriend, grinning at him. “I don’t know if I should say yes to such a lackluster offer,” he teased. “Aren’t these usually big deals with all kinds of stuff going into it?”

Craig shrugged, returning the look. “Not my style. I figured you’d prefer a simple offer than something extravagant, but I’m always willing to make a big deal over you.”

The other quickly shook his head. “Nah, you’re right, I do prefer this,” he said quickly. “Of course I’ll go with you, thanks for asking me.”

“Thanks for accepting my boring offer.”

Tweek snorted, then stood up. He walked to Craig and pressed his face into his chest, sighing. “Anytime.” Craig hugged him readily, enjoying the peaceful moment. This, of course, meant it was ruined quickly. Tweek’s phone began to blare a warning siren, the ringtone he had assigned his agent. Tweek groaned, falling away from the other and pulling on his hair harshly.

Craig frowned, snatching the phone up and swiping to answer. “What do you want?” he snapped in annoyance.

“Oh, it’s you. Put my client on,” the haughty voice issued, immediately grating on Craig’s nerves.

“Like fuck I will. Tell me what you want, and I’ll tell him in a way that isn’t manipulative and stress inducing,” he growled.

“Craig, it’s okay,” Tweek cut in. He looked tired, taking the phone and putting it to his ear before speaking. “What do you want now? I told you I don’t have anything.” Craig stood close by, unable to hear what was being said between the pair, but wanting to stay close in case he was needed.

“I don’t have time to do a concert,” he hissed out suddenly. “Craig is taking me to prom. God, it’s like you forget I’m a person with things I want to do myself!” His eyes were lit with fire, his exhaustion disappearing. Craig felt his heart warm as he watched, though he kept himself from smiling, knowing now was not the time.

He watched his boyfriend argue for a solid half hour, unable to tell if Tweek was winning or not. The heavy sigh he released didn’t fill him with confidence, and he touched his shoulder lightly.

“What is it, babe?” he asked.

“… He booked a concert for the night of prom,” Tweek murmured.

“What!? That’s total bullshit, he can’t do that!”

“Well, he did.” Tweek’s voice was hard, his mouth narrowing into a sliver. “And just to fuck me over, he let the school book me. So, I guess I can’t go with you, I’m going to be the fucking entertainment.”

Craig could hear the disappointment under the anger, and he allowed it to roll off him, knowing Tweek didn’t meant to snap at him. He grabbed his boyfriend’s hands, bringing them up to his lips. He kissed his fingertips and the band-aids decorating them tenderly. “Like Hell you aren’t going with me,” he said as Tweek’s face flushed red. “You’re going to enjoy your senior prom. Your agent can go suck a massive dick.”

Tweek’s face twitched as he held down a laugh, and he let out a breath, dropping his gaze to his feet. “If you say so, Craig.”

———-

The month leading up to prom was nothing less than chaos for the young couple. A flurry of crazed planning took up most of Tweek’s mind, keeping him distracted. Two weeks before prom, Craig pulled him into his car and drove them to South Park mall.

“What are we doing here, Craig?” Tweek asked, gripping his hand as they entered the building, Craig clearly having a destination in mind.

“We need to get suits for prom,” he answered easily. “I know you like to be more casual when you perform, but it’s a formal event, so to be let in I have to wear something nicer than black jeans and a clean shirt.” He paused long enough to shoot him a smile. “You don’t have to get one if you don’t want too, but you can help me pick one.”

With a tired sigh, Tweek followed him. He was exhausted lately, his paranoia keeping him awake. The only sleep he was getting was the hour-long lunch period he had, escaping to the nurse’s office and crashing there.

Entering the store, the pair where greeted brightly, the employees rushing to be attentive to their famous customer. He smiled weakly, collapsing into a chair beside the dressing room. He only half registered Craig pulling a few suits from the racks around him, pressing a kiss into his hair, and going into a changing room. When Craig stepped out, it was an entirely different story.

Tweek sat bolt upright in his seat, his eyes wide and locked onto his boyfriend. It occurred to him he had never seen Craig dress up for anything before, but goddamn if he didn’t highly approve.

Craig turned in a circle, his arms held out at his sides. “What do you think, babe?” he asked. “Too much? Need more? I’m not much of a fashion person.”

Cursing his mouth for failing him, Tweek gestured at him dumbly and nodded in approval. Craig had chosen a dark blue suit that seemed to have silver sparkles pressed into the threads. It was barely notable until Craig moved, then the light reflected from them, making him shine. A white undershirt covered his chest, and a tie matching the suit was clipped around his neck.

“Tweek? Are you alright?” he asked in concern, hugging him gently.

“Get this,” Tweek managed to command. His mind was filling with music, and he needed to get home right away. He shuffled from foot to foot impatiently as Craig changed back and went to the counter to rent the suit.

The musician all but yanked Craig out of the mall and shoved him into the car. Craig’s worry had waned, and he instead watched the other with deep fondness, recognizing the signs of a creative mood.

He hadn’t seen Tweek have one in so long, it was an extremely welcome site. Putting the car into gear, he pulled out of the parking lot and drove them back. Arriving at the Tweak house, Tweek pecked his cheek, then leapt out, sprinting into the house and up to his room.

Bursting into the room, he threw himself at his desk, snatching a pen and clicking it open, scribbling frantically. He used pen to write his song ideas, finding pencil smeared to easily when he rushed, and he broke a much smaller number of pens compared to pencils.

His parents, used to their son’s constant alertness, went to bed and slept soundly though his screeching and rushing around, banging around on the various instruments in his room as he brought the song in his head out to the world, stopping only to jot down the notes onto the music sheets.

In the early hours of the morning, Tweek collapsed on his bed, dead asleep. His newest song was stacked neatly in the one open spot on his messy desk, unreadable to just about everyone else in the world. His mother checked on him around seven, and seeing him resting, called him off from school for the day as well as sending Craig a text to let him know where the teen would be.

Craig smiled at the message that popped up on his phone, already in the school’s parking lot. He’d known that Tweek was going to work until he finished whatever was on his mind, then collapse. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this, and it wouldn’t be the last either.

———-

The remaining days to prom felt like someone had smashed the fast-forward button on Tweek’s life, propelling him through the days as though they didn’t exist. Lucky for him, Craig made sure to be around constantly, basically living in the Tweak house to help him prepare. The only thing Tweek had refused to be convinced to do was play the new song he had written for prom to Craig just yet.

“You’ll understand why when we’re there,” he promised, yanking his fingers through his hair in a vain attempt to fix it. “Just be patient for a little while, I promise it will be worth it.” Craig, who had asked for a sneak peek of the new song for the hundredth time, huffed and went into the bathroom to put on his suit.

Tweek felt incredibly guilty that Craig couldn’t go out to dinner with his friends beforehand, since he had to go to the community center to set up and Craig insisted on going with him. Craig did everything he could think of to assure him that there was nothing to feel bad about, he wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. Surprising him by showing up with takeout and his suit in a bag had helped. After eating, they showered and set about getting ready.

“Do I still look alright?” Craig asked, stepping out of the bathroom. Tweek’s breath caught in his throat as the sight of Dressed Up Craig entered his vision. He nodded mutely in response, watching Craig use his fingers to comb through his hair and style it slightly. Gulping, he turned away and shook himself, knowing he needed to stay focused.

They left shortly after, Tweek feeling extremely under-dressed, which he was. He had donned the same outfit he had worn for his first tour appearance, being sure to even have the same earrings in. Tweek was a deep believer in good luck, and seeing as his concert had done so well, it made sense (at least to him), to think that wearing the same outfit would cause a similar reaction. He had made one important addition, however: a warm, blue, slightly-too-big jacket was draped around him, the sleeves going down to his fingertips.

Craig thought it was the absolute cutest thing he had ever seen in his life.

Getting to the center, parents were already crowding around the entrance, though most of the teens wouldn’t arrive for another hour. This was fine by Tweek. The pair got their cheesy couple photo, Craig pulling him against him and smiling widely, managing to coax a nervous grin from his boyfriend.

Going into the building was like stepping into another world. The town had gone all out and donated massively to the high school that year; fairy lights were strung through the rafters and wrapped into designs that traveled up the walls. One side of the room had tables set up covered in white cloths, surrounded by fancy looking chairs. Center pieces sat on top of the pristine fabric, and Tweek couldn’t for the life of him figure out what the twisty gold-looking thing was supposed to be, but it was pretty all the same.

Moveable tiles had been set in place over the wooden floor boards on the half of the room not covered in seatery. Strobe lights were set up around the dance floor, and an area for the band, and Tweek, had been created between the giant speakers. Behind one of the speakers was a small table that had an AUX cord and someone’s phone for when Tweek and the helping band needed a break so the music wouldn’t have to stop for long.

The far wall had a long table set up, covered in snacks and drinks for the teens when they needed to rest and recharge.

Tweek let out a sigh and walked towards the performing area. Settling himself on the provided stool as adults rushed around to put the finishing touches on everything, he watched Craig, who had taken the table closest to him. He smiled slightly, appreciating the gesture, and Craig waved at him. They spent the time making faces at each other and giggling. Occasionally, Tweek would have to turn away to check his microphone for the sound technician, but the pair was left undisturbed for the most part.

When students began to arrive outside, someone pressed play on the phone behind the speaker and a pop song started up. Tweek’s performance would start after most of the students had arrived. Until then, he was allowed to get up and go to Craig. He did so gladly, running over to him.

Token, Clyde, Jimmy, Timmy, and Jason arrived first. Token and Clyde had come together, Token in a purple suit and red shirt, while Clyde was the opposite. Though neither Craig or Tweek were big on fashion, seeing Clyde’s outfit physically hurt them, Craig covering his eyes as Tweek pulled the hood of the jacket up to hide his face.

Clyde just laughed, enjoying their torment. Jimmy was in a yellow suit, something none of them had thought he would be able to pull off, but he did extremely well. Timmy had chosen light blue, and Jason had gone traditional with black. The three hadn’t asked anyone to go, knowing they would find someone to dance with who had come in a group like they had. If all else failed, they had no qualms just getting groovy with each other.

As students began to pour in, Tweek was called for. Craig kissed his forehead lightly, promising to hang out close to him while he performed. “This is technically the first time I’ve seen you play live,” he teased. “I’ll be watching you the whole time, so don’t worry too much.”

Tweek smiled, bid his friends goodbye, then returned to the band. The music turned off, and the band started to play, exciting the students. Many were big fans of Tweek’s music and were excited to hear him singing live.

Putting on his performing face, he smiled brightly, welcoming them all to prom before launching into a popular dance song. While he performed, Tweek kept an eye on the time. He wanted to end the dance with his new song for two reasons: one, it was a pretty easy song as far as the strain it put on his vocal cords, relaxing in a way, and a good wind up to end a long show, and two, he fully intended to embarrass Craig but didn’t want to make it impossible for him to escape. He wasn’t going to be that mean.

The dance was two hours long, and Tweek only took two breaks, and this only so the band could have a moment to rest. He himself was buzzing with energy, looking forward to Craig’s reaction.

Finally, it was nearing the end, and Tweek took the microphone from its hold and stood up, getting everyone’s attention.

“Thank you all for coming to this year’s prom, guys,” he started, pausing a moment while he was applauded. “Now, I know I haven’t released any new songs in a while, but I have something special for you tonight. I would like to perform the new song I wrote, if you’d all be willing to hear it.”

The room filled with excited chatter and the students agreed eagerly. Tweek smiled, then glanced towards Craig. “Craig, could you come up here, please?”

Craig looked around in confusion as everyone went silent, but he stood and walked to his boyfriend’s side, allowing Tweek to lead him back to the stool he had been sitting on all night. Tweek had pulled it out from its spot to the side and put in the center of the dance floor. Once Craig was seated, he grinned and kissed his cheek, eliciting squeals from some of the girls.

“I’ve had a hard time being inspired lately,” he said, “but Craig helped me out, like he always does. So, Craig, this song is for you. I’ve decided to call it, ‘Thank You For Existing’.” Craig’s cheeks turned red, but he smiled and nodded. Taking a step back, Tweek took a breath, then began.

“I got these fresh eyes, never seen you before like this…” He looked Craig up and down quickly, his eyes softening with affection. “My God, you’re beautiful.”

Craig’s eyes widened as his blush darkened. Tweek showed his love through actions more than he did words, and it was always a welcome surprise to be told something sweet.

“It’s like the first time, when we opened the door before we, got used to usual…”

Was… was Tweek talking about when they first got together? It had been an awkward shift in their dynamic from friends to lovers, but it had been a good awkward, if that even existed. The excitement of seeing one another for the first time every day hadn’t gone away, it had only grown into a routine. Craig’s mind raced as it pushed pieces into place, finding the deeper meaning in his boyfriend’s songs as he tended to do.

“It might seem superficial, mhmm… Stereotypical man… You dress up just a little and I’m like, 'Oh, damn’.” Tweek winked at him, derailing Craig’s attempts to reason through the words. It was almost ridiculous how easily Tweek was able to turn him into putty.

“So, suddenly, I’m in love with a stranger… I can’t believe he’s mine… Now all I see, is you, with fresh eyes, fresh eyes…”

As he repeated the line, the attendees began to clap in time to the beat, getting into the music.

“Appreciation… Well, it comes and it goes,” Tweek continued, giving a small shrug before moving behind his boyfriend and putting his arm around him. “But I, I’ll ride that wave with you. It’s human nature, to miss what’s under your nose 'til you, 'til you remind a fool…” He pressed a quick kiss to Craig’s jaw, then spun away as the drum picked up.

“Maybe all of this is simple… mhmm, my heart’s unconditional, yeah…” He turned back to face Craig, pointing him. “You dress up just a little and I’m like, 'Oh, damn’.”

His face felt like it was on fire, and Craig put his hands over his cheeks in a vain attempt to hide his embarrassment. If it had been anyone else, he could have flipped them off and stormed out, but… he couldn’t do that to Tweek. For sure he would need to get him back for this later though.

“If I could bottle this up, bottle, bottle this up, I would… I would bottle this up, bottle, bottle this up, I would…” Making his way back to him, Tweek leaned close to Craig’s face. “'Cause you’re gorgeous, in this moment… If I could bottle this up, I would…”

Craig threw out an arm, wrapping it around Tweek’s waste to keep him from leaving and holding him close. Even sitting, abet on a high stool, Craig was a good head taller than Tweek, not that it was stopping the singer from flustering the fuck out of him.

“So, suddenly, I’m in love with a stranger… I can’t believe he’s mine, yeah… And now all I see, is you, with fresh eyes, fresh eyes… Oooh… Oooh… Oooh…” Tweek let the microphone drop to the ground, throwing his arms around Craig’s neck as he stood on his tiptoes, smashing their lips together.

The crowd, already cheering from the song, lost their minds, screaming and whistling in approval.

Craig stood up, scooping Tweek into his arms, carrying him like a princess towards the doors of the community center. “If you were anyone else, I would be so mad,” he murmured softly. “But I seem to be unable to get mad at you, babe.”

Tweek grinned and snuggled closer to him. “I’m pretty lucky then, huh?”

“The luckiest.”

———-

The next day, Tweek called his agent, a first for him. He had never been the one to initiate contact before. The man on the other end of the line was surprised to get the call.

“I wrote a song and showed it at prom,” Tweek informed him. “It’s entirely possible someone recorded it and put it online. If they did, I don’t care, so don’t you dare try to get it taken down or anything. I’m emailing you the file, give it to whoever it is you give it to for this stuff. If you were going to ask, I did have fun, and the post prom was the best part. Bye now.” He hung up without waiting for him to say a word. He was still a bit salty over having to work on prom night, but it hadn’t been as bad as he had thought it would be. Though to be fair, that was entirely thanks to Craig.

After leaving the dance, they had returned to Tweek’s home and both had changed into sweatpants and t-shirts, though Tweek kept Craig’s jacket. They had then joined their friends at the mall, where post prom was being held. It had been a lot of fun, and Tweek received many compliments on what everyone was sure was going to be the new top of the charts hit.

“It’s a fuckin’ bop,” Clyde told him as the group lounged in the food court. They had chosen to sit by the wall rather than at a table. Craig was leaned against it with Tweek resting on his chest, his arms around him loosely. Token was beside him, Clyde laying with his head on his lap. Jimmy was sitting against the wheel of Timmy’s chair, and Jason was stretched out on his stomach in front of them.

“Thanks, Clyde,” Tweek said, smiling slightly. “I worked hard on that song.”

“It shows,” Token put in as Clyde nodded.

“Y-Yeah, Tweek,” Jimmy said, stealing a fry from Jason’s plate. “You r-r-rea-really kick s-s-ser-se-serious ass.” Jason swatted weakly at his hand, but gave a thumbs up in agreement, too tired to say anything.

“Timmy!”

Tweek felt his heart warm, grateful to have the support of his friends. Craig’s arms tightened around him and lips pressed into his soft hair.

“You did great, honey,” Craig cooed lowly to him. “I’m so proud of you.”

Soon after, they had gone home, tired and ready for bed. Craig stayed the night, leaving once they were both awake the next day.

He couldn’t help but feel a bit bad. Tweek put so much effort into his music, had even written two songs about him of all people to show his love, and Craig felt, dare he say, inadequate?

Did Tweek understand how much he loved him? How much he cared about, respected, and flat out adored him? He knew he wasn’t the best at expressing himself, but lately he had begun to feel like he wasn’t doing enough. Maybe it was due to Tweek declaring his feelings towards him on a world stage. The entire planet had literally heard Tweek singing about his love for Craig, and Craig had no way to match that…

Or did he?

The idea took shape in his mind, and he’s eyes grew wider as he thought of a solution. Running the rest of the way home, he jumped onto his computer, opening up Discord to message his friends in their group chat. Tweek wasn’t part of it only because he didn’t trust that it wasn’t being monitored at all points.

Typing quickly, he sent out: Do u guys want 2 start a band?

[your-dietician]

Giving Birth During the Pandemic, Calif. Wildfire Evacuation

New Post has been published on https://depression-md.com/giving-birth-during-the-pandemic-calif-wildfire-evacuation/

Giving Birth During the Pandemic, Calif. Wildfire Evacuation

Illustration: by Lucy Jones

Smoke plumes over the parched hillside as we load up our two cars for our first wildfire evacuation: passports and a few bags, one neurotic pit bull and six very disgruntled barn cats. At the last minute, we toss in some baby essentials (car seat, co-sleeper) — but surely, surely we’ll be back home before we need them. Nearby, two wild turkeys peck at the new fire break, unperturbed by the human frenzy, the gathering of domestic animals, the churning of fields.

It’s August 2020. And I am 36 weeks pregnant.

A week earlier, we’d been counting our blessings — the sort of feel-good California nonsense that ran contrary to every fiber of my jaded New Yorker soul. But on that deceptively bright afternoon, I’d indulged. First on the list was our home: my husband’s family ranch in the Santa Cruz mountains where we’d moved from Brooklyn three years before.

Like so many “classic” journeys West, ours had begun in a quixotic vein. On paper, it was a job offer for my then-boyfriend, now-husband, but the impulse ran deeper than that. We were both fed up with New York for the reasons 30-something artists often are: a growing disillusionment with our respective industries; the churn of yuppification driving our friends from the neighborhoods they themselves had gentrified not long ago; the pervasive sense that there’s always someone younger than you dying to do the same thing for less. And so, we wanted to embark on a new adventure together, something utterly different — and what could be more different than trading cramped city living for bucolic rolling hills? The ranch itself held an almost mythic status for my husband. It was the childhood kingdom where he once visited his uncle and grandmother and played out his Tolkien fantasies; the steady rock of home after his parents got divorced.

But, it turns out, we’d come to California in the end times. The apocalypse grew starker the farther west we drove. When we passed through Montana, the big sky clogged with smoke as fields burned alongside the highway. As we wound down the Oregon coast, the heat sizzled. We reached the ranch on the hottest day in San Francisco history. We drove down to the beach to escape the heat—only to find a small brush fire blocking our path. The Bay Area of my husband’s childhood was in its death throes. Destroyed by tech bros and venture capitalists and, most irrevocably, by climate change. Since our arrival, the Golden State has seen its population decline for the first time on record.

Living out in all that damn nature — a 25-minute drive from just about anything — felt claustrophobic. I missed home. I yearned to hop on the subway. Trade gossip with the self-proclaimed mayor of my block. Stumble home and stop, shame-faced, at the corner bodega for a bag of expired Goldfish crackers. Engage with that pulsing, beating, bleating hum of humanity that is New York City.

But there’s nothing like a global pandemic to make you see the value of wide-open spaces. To find the beauty in sunburnt grasses. To see the hills dotted with live oaks not as yellow but as gold. To watch the fog unfurl like dragon smoke and think — this, perhaps this can be enough.

The second blessing we’d been fool enough to name was my “easy” pregnancy. I’d been 15 weeks pregnant when COVID-19 shut down the state. My in-person appointments migrated to video. I purchased a scale and a blood-pressure cuff; I dutifully reported the results every month. By and large, I felt pretty good. Healthy. But this fiction, too, was about to go up in flames. The temperatures soared, the barn cats’ fur crackled, my feet ballooned.

The morning of our evacuation, I have my first in-person OB/GYN appointment in months. By this point, I’m accustomed to the realities of a pandemic pregnancy. The strange disconnect when I talk to anyone who gave birth before COVID-19, who never worried if their partner would be allowed into the delivery room, or Googled “will the hospital separate me from my newborn if I test positive for COVID?” In the empty waiting room, the “don’t sit here” printouts have vanished along with the chairs that accompanied them. The pandemic has dragged on for five months, and the furniture has adjusted itself accordingly.

The doctor gives me bad news — the baby is in breech. The hard, round protrusion jutting beneath my rib cage is, indeed, the baby’s head, not his rump as I’ve been trying to convince myself for weeks. We schedule a version— a procedure where a doctor tries to turn the baby right-side down — for the following Friday.

Who was I to think that my body wouldn’t betray me?

There’s something else, too. My blood pressure clocks in at 151 over 97. The chatty nurse grows quiet. She looks at me, then back at the reading. She asks if I was rushing to get here. If I suffer from white-coat syndrome. With the cocky self-assurance of a person young enough and lucky enough to believe that their body won’t betray them, I tell the nurse I’m stressed. We’re under evacuation warning. By the time she straps the cuff back on after the appointment, my blood pressure has returned to normal.

Preeclampsia, the dangerous and maddeningly enigmatic condition that my high blood pressure augurs, has plagued (wo)mankind since the dawn of history. Back in the fifth century B.C.E., Hippocrates blamed it, along with so many other lady ailments, on the wandering womb. In the intervening two and a half millennia, doctors haven’t figured out the cause. The prevailing theory is that the problem starts in the placenta, the organ that nurtures the fetus in the womb: In women with preeclampsia, the blood vessels that form to deliver oxygen to the placenta are too narrow. In its efforts to feed the growing baby, the body kicks into overdrive. Your blood pressure skyrockets; your kidneys falter; your liver might fail. In the worst cases, the “pre” vanishes and you “progress” to eclampsia — seizures which can be deadly to both mom and baby.

Preeclampsia is characterized by a list of associations that often border on patient-shaming: risk factors include poor diet, obesity, diabetes, and chronic hypertension. For complex reasons that likely involve structural racism, unconscious bias, and biological weathering, Black women in America develop and die from preeclampsia at significantly higher rates than white women do.

Returning, then, to my certainty that I am perfectly well, high blood pressure or no, thankyouverymuch. We could call it denial. We could also call it a particular cocktail of white, able-bodied, and socioeconomic privilege. After all, none of those risk factors applied to me.

Days later, as another nurse lines my hospital bed with bumper pads to protect me in case of seizure, I’ll wonder at my arrogance. Just two years earlier, my older sister dropped dead at 35. Who was I to think that my body wouldn’t betray me?

Almost exactly nine months after we first arrived in California, my sister Julia died, both suddenly and predictably. She was 35 and, by most outward metrics, in good health. But, as hard as she fought, she’d been gripped by both depression and alcoholism for over a decade.

In the months after Julia dies, wildfires flame up and down the state. Eight-five people perish as Paradise is razed to the ground. I try to work on my new novel, a cli-fi dystopia that offers little escape. I spend a lot of time sitting in a large wooden crate, socializing a litter of barn kittens. Sometimes, I meet Julia’s college roommate, Casey, in San Francisco. We go to coffee shops that are both like and unlike the ones I missed in Brooklyn. Places where using the bathroom requires an app and a QR code. The world is literally on fire, and this is what Silicon Valley innovation has to offer: the monetization of what should be public goods. Over burritos and tears, Casey tells me stories about her toddler son. Funny words that he’d string together, and how when she says they can’t go outside, he knows to respond: “Too smoky?”

The decision to have children has always struck me as an essentially selfish one: You choose, out of a desire for fulfillment or self-betterment or curiosity or boredom or baby-mania or peer pressure, to bring a new human into this world. And it has never seemed more selfish than today. From a global perspective, having a child in a developed nation is among the most environmentally unsound decisions you can make — a baby born in the United States adds another 58.6 tons of carbon to the atmosphere per year. (That wipes out the net positives of my 25 years of vegetarianism in roughly three months). On the individual level, as fires rage and hurricanes form, as water grows scarce and fields lie fallow, it’s hard not to wonder: What kind of future can we offer a child?

And yet. On some level we still believe that a baby, our baby, will bring the world, our world, so much more than his carbon footprint. On another, we believe, like so many before us, that a baby can be the only balm after a loss. That it will transform me from a bereaved sister to something new and alien: a mother.

The day we evacuate, in that now-annual tradition among Western states, Gavin Newsom declares a state of emergency. The fire that we’re fleeing is the smaller of two mammoth blazes threatening the state. A CalFire spokeswoman on TV advises that all citizens should be “ready to go” in case of wildfires. “Residents have to have their bags packed up with your nose facing out your driveway so you can leave quickly.”

We joke about how absurd it is that every single Californian should be living in a perpetual state of emergency preparedness. It isn’t funny.

The truth is that we’re the lucky ones. We won’t be sleeping in our cars outside Half Moon Bay High School, hoping that the Red Cross can find us a hotel room. We have a safe place to go that will accept us and our veritable menagerie in the middle of a pandemic. My in-laws live an hour’s drive away. And for once we’re grateful they’re on the far side of Santa Cruz.

On the individual level, as fires rage and hurricanes form, as water grows scarce and fields lie fallow, it’s hard not to wonder: What kind of future can we offer a child?

So we settle into our cushy evacuation digs. I check Twitter for updates on the fire lines. I lie upside down on a propped-up ironing board to encourage the baby to flip. I dutifully record my blood pressure twice a day. When I go into a local lab on Monday, I pass a woman around my age. Her hair mussed; her clothes rumpled. I overhear her tell the security guard that she is evacuated from Boulder Creek. Her house has already burned down.

The call comes late that afternoon. We’ve gone for a walk on the beach to distract ourselves. A brisk ocean breeze keeps the smoke at bay.

The OB tells me that I need to go to the hospital in two days and that I should be prepared to deliver. Depending on whether they can flip the baby, they will either induce labor or perform a C-section.

I press my hand against my stomach, cupping what I now know is my son’s head. I dig my heels into the sand. I know with every fiber of my being that this child is not ready to be born. He has literally put his foot down. Wildfire evacuations? Smoke-clogged skies over the Bay? A global pandemic? Nah, thanks, Ma. I’ll stay inside.

Something primal stirs. A desperate need to protect this child — from the world, from the climate, from the overreach of litigation-fearing American doctors. This baby, I am convinced, does not want to come out. He needs a few more weeks inside. My lab work hasn’t even come back yet. Two high blood pressure readings? From a person evacuated from wildfires during a pandemic? And I feel fine.

So, for the first time in my life, I argue with a doctor, first patiently, then furiously. I tell her that I cannot possibly give birth in two days. That we’re evacuated. That we might not have a home to return to. That, as freelancers, we both lost a lot of work during the pandemic. That my husband, whose industry has been completely upended, has an enormous gig with a new client. That I can’t imagine waiting until Friday can make any difference. The doctor takes out the cudgel: “You need to stop worrying about money and start worrying about your baby.”

It is the first time anyone has pulled the “bad mother” card on me, though I’m sure it won’t be the last. I sputter. I am livid. I tell her we’ll be there.

Things at the hospital go well until they don’t. The baby flips; the cheerful dry-erase board is decorated with a beaming sun, the names of the on-duty nurse and physician, and the words “Preeclampsia: Mild.” The next morning, my blood pressure soars, and “mild” is replaced with “severe.” The blood-pressure cuff is now accompanied by a catheter and an IV that pumps me up with magnesium to reduce the risk of seizure. The bumper pads are up now, too.

The hospital, the beeping machines monitoring my vital signs, the proliferating IVs, it all reminds me too much of Julia. The three days I sat at her hospital bed — holding her hand, reading Redwall to her, so sure that she could hear me, that the stories we shared in childhood might somehow draw her back. So sure that she would pull out of her coma, that one day we would make macabre jokes about her hospital stay. That she wouldn’t die. That our story couldn’t end that way.

But here, in this hospital, the wool has lifted from my eyes. I now know how these stories end. And I am sure that one of us isn’t going to survive. It takes the last bit of my resolve not to tell my husband, in a fit of melodrama, to save the baby if the doctors have to choose. (In later, clearer moments, I realize that medicine doesn’t work that way. But in the throes of magnesium-laced labor, the brain latches to the cinematic.)

So much of what could go wrong does: The baby crowns but every time I push his heart rate drops. We try three more times with a suction cup fused to his head, the pediatrician’s eyes glued to the heart monitor, periodically shouting for me to stop pushing so a nurse can press the baby back inside and massage his heart rate up again. At some point, a switch is flipped, alarms blare: an emergency C-section. I’m rushed down the corridors amid flashing lights to the operating table. My husband abandoned in a delivery room awash in blood. Someone shouts back, “We’ll come back for you if we can.”

My son is wrenched from my seizing uterus — weak from the magnesium and letting out only the smallest cry. He is rushed to the NICU for oxygen and observation. But he lives. We live. And, in the end, we get to go home.

The night that Jude is born, our evacuation order is lifted. The fires that burn parts of Bonny Doon and Boulder Creek never reach the ranch. We are so very lucky. Even though I doubt that luck can last.

Although that future still terrifies me and part of me wants to disengage, to say “Let it burn” and “Fuck you” to all that, I can’t. I don’t have that luxury.

After the dust has settled, my father — my somehow still optimistic, boomer father — keeps talking about how crazy it will be for Jude to learn about the day he was born, in a pandemic while evacuated for wildfires. And all I can think is how much I wish Jude might grow up in a world where the summer of 2020 sounds aberrational. I suspect he won’t. As I write this, fires descend on Lake Tahoe, defying all efforts of containment, and Hurricane Ida has devastated the Gulf Coast. Headlines blare about “extreme” weather, and I wonder when the newspapers will lose the word “extreme.”

I know that the world in which Jude grows up will be plagued by more and more environmental disasters. That cataclysmic changes to the climate will exacerbate the other inequities we face as a nation and a planet. That we are living in a real way on borrowed time, under the shadow of carbon that’s already been released as more fossil fuel continues to burn and burn and burn.

Although that future still terrifies me and part of me wants to disengage, to say “Let it burn” and “Fuck you” to all that, I can’t. I don’t have that luxury. I have no choice but to believe that the future — troubled as it will be, stripped as it will be of my biting, brilliant sister — is still worth living in and fighting for. To believe not just in destruction, not just in accruing loss after loss after loss, but in counting blessings. Finding those small moments of joy. The smile on Jude’s face as he bashes his mouth into my cheek. “Boop,” I say as I tap his nose. The same sound Julia used to make when I tapped hers.

This isn’t the ending that I’m looking for. And it isn’t just an ending either. It’s a beginning, too. An often frightening one. And, for now, that has to be good enough.

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