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niobe-loreley · 2 years ago

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Heaven Is In A Shortcake {iv}

midnight snack, anyone?

(see author's notes far below)

disclaimer: pictures are NOT MINE, but the edited version of it is- mainly for the fic. still, credits to the rightful owners and to canva + weheartit. addtionally, i am not a subic/zambales native so my apologies for any wrong locations, descriptions, or languages.

Six x F!Reader / Courtland Gentry x Fem!Reader

warnings: moderate swear words. slow burn. fluff. comedy. trust issues. culture shock. check word count.

CHAPTER SELECTION is in the✨Masterlist✨ Chapter 3 - previous chapter, check the link in the masterlist Chapter 4 - this is it [next chapter link will be posted below for suspense & convenience hehe]

words: 5.2k (N/N) = nickname *Kiara = Claire *Kurt = Court *cover names / reader doesn't know (except you do know #wreckthe4thwall)

⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜

“Binabasa mo pa rin ‘yan?” You’re still reading that?

You look up from reading Aurora Rising. “Um, what you sayyy?” you intone, “This is my 2nd time.”

Muro is shocked.

“Yeah, 12 hours lang sa’kin ito.” Yeah, this is just 12 hours for me.

Muro is aghast.

“Wala pa kase book 2 at 3 sa NBS. Baka umorder na lang ako online.” you shrug, continuing to read.

There’s still no book 2 and 3 at NBS. Maybe I’ll just order online.

“Hold up, that’s like a thick-ass book. Goblet of Fire kind of thick— or thicker!” Muro exclaims, “Like Mindy’s ass and thighs! And you’re telling me that you can read it in 12 hours?”

“Less than 12 hours if I don’t have anything to do.”

“Halimaw ka.” You’re a monster.

You beam. “Thanks! And you’re a pervert!”

You purchased this book before you bought the baking supplies last week. But you only got to read it on the weekend. You’ve only reached the middle of the story since you had a full shift on Saturday, that’s why Muro thought you hadn't finished reading it.

Today is a slow Friday, unlike last week, though the afternoon was jam-packed. The first customers for this evening are still the latest, they just left and there hasn’t been new ones for 15 minutes now. You wait for another 15 minutes before you take one of the extensive booths and sprawl there while reading. You’re the fan-favorite worker in this cafe, and dare say, the most hard-working; you can do whatever you like unless the boss says otherwise.

“Kyaaaaaaa!” you instinctively let out a giddy, highschool girl scream. Sitting up, you plunge your face in the book and feel the warmth of your skin flowing into the pages. You retract yourself and flip one page back. “Wait, wait— WAIT! Rewind! I wanna read this part again for the first time!”

You stop laughing when you feel eyes on you. There’s Muro, facepalming behind the counter, but someone else is—

“What’cha reading there, (N/N)?” Claire grins as she stands with her dad by the door.

You look between her and Court, who is more baffled than amused at you. Your face heats again, this time due to embarrassment, and you compose yourself. Placing the bookmark in the book, you close it and stand up. “Miss Kiara, Mr. Kurt!” you exclaim, clearing your throat when you hear it become high-pitched. “Welcome once again to our humble cafe.”

“What’s with the miss?” Claire asks, snorting.

“Yeah, just Kurt is fine,” says Court.

You flush. “Sorry.”

You gesture for them to come in, grabbing your book, you’re about to head for the refill station when Claire calls you and asks to borrow the book. You hand it to her before you stride away to get some water and glasses. They take the booth near the counter again.

“Looks interesting,” Claire says, flipping from the back to the front of the book.

“It very is.” you nod as you pour their glasses with water.

She hands the book to you. “Can I borrow it when you finish?”

“I’ve already finished it. This is my 2nd re-read.”

“Really?!”

“Really!”

“How long did you read it for?”

“Twelve hours,” you simper.

Claire’s jaw drops.

You stifle a laugh. “By the way, I have TFIOS and Paper Towns in my locker. Would you like to have them now?”

“Yes, please!” she vigorously nods.

“Okay.. I’ll go prepare the brown rice first— unless you’re not having a rice meal?”

“I’ll be having a rice meal!”

You make eye contact with Court, breaking it immediately when you swivel away. He seems passive, though he usually is, but passive in a way he won’t bark at you for interacting with his daughter.

When you come back from the kitchen, Muro is already printing the receipt of their orders. Court watches as you hand Claire the two books and then scan the screen. You try to ignore his gaze, and you internally scold yourself that there's nothing to it.

"Okinawa milk tea with pearls?" you ask, regarding Claire.

Court raises his hand. "That's mine."

You're astounded.

"Don't look too shocked," he says as though you punched him.

"Hurt, dad?" Claire sneers at him.

"Wounded.."

She giggles and turns to you. "Mine's the chocomalt with cream cheese and nata de coco—" she glances at Muro, "Tama po ba iyon?"

"Yes, yes! Tama!" Muro gives her a double thumbs-up.

"He says it's healthier than tapioca pearls."

"The peace juice with chia seeds is much healthier," you frown at your co-worker.

"I wanted the chocomalt, (N/N)." says Claire.

"Fine.. as long as this is your first and last milk tea for this week."

"It is and will be."

"You'll order healthier drinks next time."

She salutes with a laugh. "Yes, ma'am!" and loops her arm around Court's as they walk back to their booth.

"Nanay ka, ghorl?" Muro whispers to you, working on the okinawa while you prepare the chocomalt.

You a mother, girl?

"Ano?" What?

He rolls his eyes. "Dude, you're overprotective of her."

I roll my eyes back at him. "Gago, malamang.. she has a heart condition." Idiot, of course..

Muro heaves a brow at you.

"It's not that she can't drink milk tea, but she can't always have them."

"Obviously— pero hindi iyon kung bakit kita tinitignan ng ganito."

But that's not why I'm looking at you like this.

"Then, what?" you snap.

"Seryoso?" he groans. Seriously?

"Ano ba kase 'yon?!" What is it?!

"Wala, bobo ka!" Nothing, you're a moron!

You swing your leg out, kicking him in the shin, and you evade his counterattack with a laugh. You notice Claire jogging from the game shelves after she picks up the Pop-Up Pirate box and UNO Flip. On the outside, she looks so healthy, but on the inside, her physiology has failed her. What a shitty cardiovascular system. Because of it, she looks so thin— she needs to be plump, like most girls her age!

You resist the urge to slap yourself with the blender. Is it bad to worry about a teenage girl whom you hardly know?

The funky, chill beat of Ilaw Sa Daan by IV Of Spades swarms the cafe when you and Muro finish up the drinks. Just then, Mindy pokes out of the kitchen and asks for either of your help. Muro volunteers immediately, disappearing through the swinging doors like a Looney Tune, which leaves you to serve the customers’ drinks.

“One okinawa milk tea with tapioca pearls,” you announce and place the drink near Court, who murmurs a thanks. You then reach over to deposit Claire’s drink further in the table since she’s currently trying to poke a toy sword through the tiny barrel. “And one chocomalt with cream cheese and nata de coco.”

“Thanks, (N/N)— woah!” Claire jumps when the pirate pops out of the barrel.

Your arm moves on its own. Just as the pirate soars to its highest peak, you catch it in your hand. But that’s not the reason why your eyes are wider than UFO saucers right now. It’s because Court made a grab for the miniature pirate as well, except he grabbed your hand instead.

Claire clamps a hand over her open mouth, suppressing a laugh, and looks from you to Court while the two of you stare at each other in astonishment.

The thin shadow from his cap is vanquished by the pendant lights overhead. Instinctively, you scan his face; this is the first time you’ve seen it clear as day. He always has his cap tucked down, and whenever he does look at you, he’s only peering and somehow keeping his face obscured. Despite the evidence of having a hard-lived life etched in his face, the surprise he feels from touching you softens him.

You follow the way his small brows are quirked up. You think of how his sharp nose looks as tough as he is. His eyes remind you of almonds, and you notice one of them is minimally crooked yet his gaze remains somewhat attractive. His neatly trimmed goatee tempts you to trace it as long as your fingers end up on his thin lips—

You recoil with shame tainted cheeks, but you can’t fully step away with your hand still clutched in his. You look at your hand, which appears smaller wrapped in his own, and you feel his callouses against your knuckles.

“Sorry,” he says and releases his grip, averting his gaze.

“It’s fine,” you stammer, gently putting the toy down on the table, you scratch behind your ear. “Looks like I have faster reflexes this week.”

Court looks back at you, and you can see the memory streaking through his eyes. “Yeah.. yeah, you beat me to it.” he replies with a chuckle.

“Slowpoke," you playfully say.

He scoffs. “Whatever you say, Clifford.”

You act as though your face temperature hasn’t gone from low heat to high.

“Clifford?” Claire asks puzzledly.

“The Big Red Dog.” you and Court chorus, exchanging looks.

She blinks in recognition. “Oh, the movie from last year? Haven’t watched it.”

“Yeah, it was also a cartoon from the early 2000s.” you add.

“Based on the books that started in 1963.” Court says in a chirping manner, as though it’s a competition now on who has the most knowledgeable references.

“Hey, (N/N), wanna play?” Claire begins plucking out the toy swords from the barrel.

You glance over to the counter. “Oh, I can’t.. Muro’s in the kitchen, so I’m holding the fort.”

“Why not hold the fort while playing?”

Court opens his mouth and immediately closes it. “Kiara,” he says with a pointed look.

“T’was just a suggestion, dad.” she retorts, drawling.

“I’ll be by the counter if you two need anything.” you chime in and shortly wave, strolling away.

‘Is it just me or is there something off with the way they call each other?’ you shake your head, ‘Nah..’

You recall their first-time at the cafe—

“Man, Six, you're such a downer!"

"Shush. You can try the other condiments some other time, Claire."

Are they hiding something? Or are you just in over your head?

You snap out of your thoughts when you catch the swinging doors in your peripheral vision. Muro is peeking out. He informs you that the food will be ready in less than ten minutes before he slips back in the kitchen. You peer over the counter, watching the father-daughter duo play a game of anxiety and chance, you decide to not interfere until you’re serving their dinner.

Boundaries— you mentally repeat the word like a mantra. Until your brain starts singing along with Disturbia thumping out the speakers.

⚜🍰⚜

“Thank you, come again!” you beam at the father-daughter duo.

Claire smiles. “You didn’t have to open the door for us.”

“It’s my pleasure, sweetie.” you reply, winking.

“Thanks.” Court gives a polite nod as he sidles past you.

“I’ll try to give these back next week!” Claire waves up the paper bag containing Paper Towns and TFIOS.

“Take your time!”

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t spill anything on it.” says Court.

She frowns. “Hey!”

You laugh, partly stepping out of the door. “Safe driving!”

“Good night, (N/N)!”

“Good— huh? HOY!”

Court and Claire flinch at your abrupt bellow. Just as they stop to turn back to you, you’re already hurtling past them.

“BIKE KO ‘YAN, GAGO!” you shout at the guy, who just managed to bypass the lock of your bicycle. Your moped is in repair today, that’s why you opted for a bike— which is a gift from Mr. Nik’s, your landlord. “Tanginamo ka! Bumalik ka rito!”

That’s my bike, gago! — You fucking bitch! Get back here!

The guy is already on your bike, pedaling away like you’re about to shoot a javelin up his ass— because you look like you want to. Unfortunately, but lucky for him, you’re not a professional javelin thrower nor do you have anything similar to throw.

However, you’re fortunate with above average physicality.

“Your ass is mine!” you huff like that White Chick, zooming up to five feet behind the thief. Your eyes have adjusted to his stature and you wonder if he’s a teen.

He glances over his shoulder, eyes bulging out in shock, and you hear him cussing as he faces forward. “Yeah, that’s right— puta talaga!” you shout, steadying your breathing.

The bicycle thief veers left off the curb and darts across the road. You look both ways before you hurtle after him. “Titigil ka o isosobsob ko yang mukha mo sa aspalto?!” you roar like a Filipino mother.

People around the street look at the commotion you’re making, especially when you take out your phone and turn on the flashlight. The street is a bit dark, incoming vehicles may not see you.

“Hoy, wag kayo mag-laro, gabi na.” someone drawls from the street. Hey, stop playing, it’s night already.

You whip to them with a glare. “Tatlumpu't tatlo na ako at ninakaw niya bike ko, bitch!” and you swear once more when the thief swerves in to Tappan Park

I’m 33 and he stole my bike, bitch!

You follow after him, pointing the flashlight to the ground to see any obstacles. The lampposts around the park are a bit dim, you’ll make sure to complain to the groundskeeper later.

Fire begins to infiltrate your lungs, and embers from the growing devastation float down to your legs, combusting your muscles. Your steady breathing feels rough and scorching whenever it blows out of your lips. It’s been a while since you ran with all your might. Sure, you’re exercising an hour per day and working six days a week, but it still hits differently when you abruptly take off.

Blame adrenaline.

“HOY!” you yell as the distance between you and the bike increases.

The thief pedals out of the park, but before he can continue on the road— a flash of shadow appears into the light, grabs the back of his clothes, and hauls him off the bike. He yelps as he’s thrown onto the curb, while his assailant stops the bike from falling and immediately boots the kickstand down.

“Kurt?” you puzzledly say as you rest to a stop near the thief.

Court slowly breathes out, turning around to face you, he pats the top of his head, where his cap still remains. “You all right?” he inquires, eyeing you up and down.

“How.. how did you get here?” you glance over your shoulder, “Where’s Kiara?”

“She’s— hey!” he takes one step and catches the thief by the arm.

“Bitiwan niyo ko!” the thief snarls, thrashing to escape.

You grip his other arm, pulling off his hood and beanie. With a nearby lamppost, you can clearly see the thief is, in fact, a girl. Maybe a year or two younger than Claire.

“Sabi nang bitiwan niyo ko!” she shouts.

You heavily flick her on the forehead, the loud thump echoes across the park, this makes Court wince while the girl is just stunned. “Tumahimik ka ngang bata ka! Bakit ka nagnanakaw ng bike ha?!” you shout, “Kung ganyan turo sa’yo ng mga magulang mo, ipa-DSWD na kaya kita!”

Be quiet, you brat! Why are you stealing a bike?! — If that’s what your parents are teaching you, I’ll take you to the DSWD myself!

“N-Y-O-B!”

“N-O-Y-B ‘yon, tanga!” It’s N-O-Y-B, stupid!

“Edi ikaw na magaling, gurang!” Eh, then you’re smart, oldie!

“HOY, TREINTA Y TRES PA LANG AKO!” HEY, I’M ONLY THIRTY-THREE!

With the little thief slowly pedaling on the bike, you and Court are walking at each of her sides. She finally remained docile after three escape-attempts, one of which she planned to bike faster, but you grab the rear carrier and wallop her upside the head.

“You must be shocked,” you remark, glancing at Court. He’s been quiet during the whole exchange, though you see him grimacing whenever you smack the girl.

He catches your gaze briefly and contemplates on a response as he turns ahead. “Well, if I’m being honest, I’m horrified…”

You feel a sharp pang of anxiety in your chest.

“...I’ll remind myself not to get on your bad side.”

You snort as the anxiety disperses when your heart skips a beat. "It's actually the same on my good side." you say, shrugging. "I tend to give tough love."

Court looks at you in bewilderment, and you regard him quizzically. It's as though you said a taboo and the townspeople will be after you.

"Well, in this case, it's tough compassion." you poke the girl's side.

She yelps, nearly losing balance, and throws you the stink-eye. You return a scowl and continuously tap your fist against your palm. Unimpressed, she scoffs at you, slightly pedaling forward but not far enough for you to give a warning.

"Kids today are shameless," you comment spittingly.

Court snorts as Claire swims up in his eyes. Earlier, he wanted to chase after you and the thief but didn’t want to risk leaving her alone. So she told him she’ll run if he won’t, and that she’ll report to the hospital of his negligence towards her health,

"Totally shameless," he nods with a stifled grin.

The three of you arrive back at the cafe. Muro, Mindy, and Claire are at a bench near the parking lot.

“Are you two okay?” Claire is the first to ask as she stands up.

“Yeah, we’re good.” says Court, glancing at you.

“Here’s your bike lock, (Y/N).” Mindy hands you the cable lock.

“Damn, I didn’t think it was a kid.” Muro sighs, holding up a bolt cutter, he regards the girl. “Sa’n mo nakuha ‘to?”

Where did you get this?

The girl slides down from the bike. “Sa pwet mo.” In your butt.

You stifle a laugh. “That’s new!”

The girl is baffled that you’re amused. You take the cable lock from Mindy and assess its damage. “Looks like I’ll buy another one, plus a wheel lock.” you pause to look at the girl, “Sagutin mo tanong niya o sasakalin kita gamit nito.”

Answer his question or I’ll strangle you with this.

“Kung ipapa-pulis mo ako, gawin mo na!” the girl shouts.

If you’ll take me to the police, just do it!

“Pareho rin itatanong nila.” They’ll ask you the same things.

“Edi ba’t ka pa nagtatanong?” Then why are you asking?

“Kase papakawalan kita depende sa sagot mo.” you proclaim, placing your hands on your waist.

Because I’ll let you go depending on your answer.

The girl bristles. “‘Di ako naniniwala sa’yo.”

I don’t believe you.

You shrug. “Bahala ka. Mas mapapagalitan ka ng magulang mo kung sa pulis nanggaling.”

Your choice. Your parents will be more angry if this comes from the police.

The girl’s eyes widen in realization, casting her gaze down on the sandy ground, she mulls over your words. You then see how small she is, how she seems more than just a bicycle thief— is she not doing this for herself? Or is she just doing this for fun?

You sigh. “Huling pagkakataon.. bakit ba ninakaw mo bike ko?”

Last chance.. why did you steal my bike?

“Kase..” the girl gulps, fear shaking in her eyes as she looks up to you.

“M-Mabait si (N/N)!” Claire suddenly declares, stepping forward, she slowly tries to convey her thoughts and feelings. “Hindi ko pa siya kilala ng matagal.. pero alam ko mabait siya.”

(N/N) is kind! — I haven’t met her that long.. but I know she’s kind.

Your heart has practically melted then and there. Claire is to you as Arlo is to Rosa Diaz, if anyone hurts her, you’ll kill everyone here and yourself. She’s supporting your honor when she doesn’t even know if you’re a bugger-flicker or -wiper. What’s more her Tagalog has improved, she sounds so cute!

“Huwag ka mag-alala. Maiintindihan ka niya.” Court says, nodding at the girl.

Don’t worry. She’ll understand you.

“What’s with you two?!” you couldn’t hold back as you tearfully beam at the father-daughter duo. “You’re making my heart all fuzzy!”

The girl deeply breathes in and out. “Ninakaw ko po bike niyo kase kailangan ko pera— pero para sa pamilya!”

I stole your bike because I need the money— but for my family!

She begins to explain that her youngest sibling is going to start school, and she’s deciding to drop-out to help earn some money, being the oldest and all. Her mother is a single-parent, living in a shed at the hotel she’s working on with three children; the girl makes no mention of her father, and you know better than to probe.

After her explanation, she also confessed to her crimes. Stealing bicycles, purses, and even shoes that she would find along the Boardwalk. You then tell her to wait there and sprint back to the cafe.

When you return, you hand her a paper bag; inside is a packaged whole strawberry shortcake with a pen and paper. “Tara, samahan kita umuwi. Malapit lang hotel dito, ikaw mag-bike tapos angkas ako.” you declare, tying your hair up into a ponytail.

C’mon, I’ll go with you. The hotel’s close here, you’ll bike and I’ll sit behind.

“Ano?” the girl stammers confusedly.

“Syempre, gusto ko malaman kung totoo nga ba sinasabi mo, pero ‘di ako magpapakita sa mama mo. At saka ‘di kita papauwiin mag-isa ng ganitong oras, babae ka pa rin.”

Of course, I wanna know if you’re telling the truth, but I won’t let your mother see you. And I won’t let you go home by yourself at a time like this, you’re still a girl.

The girl, in fact everyone there, stares at you like you’ve grown multiple heads. You roll your eyes at them and resist the urge to throw something at Muro. “Basta sabihin mo sa mama mo, sakto palabas yung customers namin no’ng pumasok ka at sinabi mo may nagnanakaw ng bike sa parking lot. Kaya kita binigyan ng cake saka application form, kase kung ‘di dahil sa’yo mawawalan ako ng bike.” you shortly pull up the paper from the bag, it’s a form for part-time applicants at the cafe.

Just tell your mom that you went into the cafe just as customers were going out and you told us someone’s bike is being stolen from the parking lot. That’s why I gave you a cake and an application form, because if it weren’t for you I’d lose my bike.

The girl is close to tearing up. “Bakit mo ginagawa ito?” Why are you doing this?

You smirk. “Kailangan namin ng utos-utusan, medyo dumadami customers namin tuwing umaga’t hapon.” We need someone to order around, customers have been increasing during the day.

“Pero—” But—

“Ay naku! Kukunin mo ba ‘yang binibigay ko o ibibigay kita sa pulis?” Oh, my! Are you gonna take my offer or am I going to take you to the police?

As soon as the girl reluctantly accepts your offer, you force her to ride the bike before plopping on the rear carrier.

“Bakit ano yung nasa harap?” Why am I in front?

“Mamaya kase may kutsilyo ka pang tinatago.” Because you may be hiding a knife.

You look at Muro and Mindy. “I’ll be quick,” and then turn to the father-daughter duo. “See you next week?”

Claire nods. “See you!”

“Be careful,” Mindy murmurs, trying not to eye the girl in suspicion.

“Don’t you want a ride?” Court suggests.

You’re surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’ll be faster.”

“Oh, a car is a lot faster than a bicycle.”

“Yes, so—” Court cuts himself off when you look at him expectantly, but there’s something else in your grin— “You’re being sarcastic.”

You laugh. “Sorry. But we’ll be fine, you two should get home.”

You force Lilia— the girl— to get a move on and soon, you two are riding off into the night, looking like the universe’s most unlikely pair of adventurers.

The hotel she claimed that her family is staying in is just four blocks away from the cafe. But just as Lilia rounds onto the last black, she abruptly presses on the brakes.

You yelp. “Ay, susmaryosep!” and slap the teen on the back, “I almost fell over!— Wait, sa’n ka pupunta?”

Wait, where are you going?

“Nanay ko ‘yon,” she slips off the bike and nods over to the direction of the hotel.

You glance and there is, in fact, a woman in her late 30s— maybe, it’s hard to discern age from this distance. But what’s discernible is the anxiety in her steps as she paces back and forth the sidewalk. “Sige, puntahan mo na. At pag-isipan mo yung na-offer ko,” you wag a finger at her and shortly look away, “Though I have to ask Liz about it first.”

Alright, go to her. And think about my offer

She hears you muttering. “Ano ‘yon?” What’s that?

“Wala— hurry and go! Shoo!” Nothing— bilisan mo at umalis ka na!

Lilia makes a face at you, swivels to walk away, and stops to turn back. “Ate (N/N)—”

“Aalis ka o ibabato ko yung bike na ‘to sa’yo?” You gonna leave or am I gonna throw this bike at you?

Fortunately, Lilia obliges. And you’d rather not break your precious bike over a smartass kid. Her mother instantly sprints to her after she spots Lilia. Invisible arrows shoot into your heart and spine when the mother tightly embraces her child. The urge to call, or even just send a short message to your mom, tingles in your fingers. But you keep the longing there, steadying it just at your fingertips, like that one Greek Titan sentenced to bear the heavens.

Lilia doesn’t mention that you’re there, as instructed by you, but she glances over to you from time to time. Her mother is too focused on her to pay her sneaking looks any heed. You wait until they’re stepping in the hotel before you turn the bike around and pedal back to the cafe.

The ride is slow— on purpose. You’re pedaling leisurely to bask in the cool evening air and whiff at the sea fragrance that gets stronger as you near the Boardwalk. It’s always chilly here at night, the naturally-occurring nocturnal heatwaves rarely win against the ocean flurries.

Out of the blue, you wonder if Claire has tread through the Boardwalk. You try not to cement any thoughts of suggesting it to the teen as she may ask you to come with her and Court again. Not that that’s a bad way to spend time with friendly strangers, but Court seems adamant in maintaining distance. Still, he wants Claire to socialize— as long as no one gets too close.

You think about the reasons for his behavior. What happened before they moved here in the Philippines? The country doesn’t have the best medical care, so why are they here? And what’s with the stealthy looks he would have whenever he’s looking over his shoulder or at the security cameras?

And why the hell did he leave his daughter with strangers to help you?— she probably forced him, you realize. Muro and Mindy are still strangers, just like you are.

You decide how this is stressing you out and attempt to clear your mind. Imaginary fingers clutch your nape, you shudder and take a gander. This feels familiar— like that time at the mall. And again, no one is following you. There’s only a car parked at the far end of the block, but no one seems to be inside. It looks familiar, but there are a lot of cars like that here. You shrug and round the block, the cafe is in your sights.

Unbeknownst to you, there are people inside that car. The very same pair that has been plaguing your mind.

Court urges the car forward, slowly but surely as he keeps the lights off. By the time they’re peeking out of the corner, you’re hauling the bicycle through the cafe’s front doors and probably arguing with Muro about it.

“She’s inside,” says Claire.

Court hums in agreement, checking the rearview mirror, he flicks on the lights and swivels the car around. He hears Claire giggling to herself and glimpses sideways at her. “What?” he asks, concerned rather than curious.

“Oh, nothing..” she breathes out cheerfully.

“Sure—” he pauses, “ Oh..”

She nods with a toothy grin. “Yeah, that’s right.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“What? I’m only thinking about how you’re worried for someone other than me,” Claire turns to him, inclining her head rightward. “So, is it truly not that?”

“It’s,” he’s about to reply with the truth, but the lie flies out of his mouth first. “Not.”

She gasps dramatically. “How come?! When it was you who began following them without saying anything!”

Court feels his ears burning. Now, that’s true. When Lilia begins to pedal away with you, his instincts told him to be in pursuit. He and Claire bid goodbye to Mindy and Muro before trying not to drive away too hastily, they took a different path that still leads to where you’re going. None of you know whether the girl, who just robbed you, is telling the truth— until you all witnessed her mother hugging her.

The suspicion has evaporated, but Court would be lying if he says he’s done worrying about you. That’s why he followed you, slowly and discreetly, keeping him and Claire in the shadows. You felt their eyes on you, but you didn’t know where they were.

Just like last week at the mall.

Court saw you when he was exiting the hardware store. Immediately, he thought you were following them, so he decided to do the same to you. But the way you try to lose him diminishes his doubts, only an amateur stalker would fall for it. Even so, at the last second, you caught a glimpse of him. Luckily, it wasn’t enough for you to recognize him completely— judging from your reaction when you meet him at the bookstore.

He recalls the conversation he had with you when Claire bought cotton candies. He isn’t just worried about Claire, he’s also worried about you being too close for comfort. There are forces in this world that might be watching them, but are not as merciful as the Lord. It’s already risky planning to go out every Friday night or going to the mall once every two weeks. But Court has decided that, despite their circumstance, he would try to give Claire a long (and slightly normal) life if possible.

Even if that means interacting with anyone and becoming suspicious of every little thing they do. Hence, pulling them close at a safe distance and then pushing them far, far away.

“You’re real paranoid, you know?” Claire quips.

Court sighs heftily. “.. I concur.”

“You should get out more. Join the PTA.”

“School hasn’t started here… And you’ll be homeschooling, anyway.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re my teacher.”

“Hey, I know a ton of shit in school.”

“You saying it like that makes it so hard to believe.”

⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜

A/N: wow, that's a long one HAHAHA I guess it's just my way of making up for not updating last Wed or Thurs as I've (promised) noted ꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡ y'all wanna know why? It's because of a smut Six x Reader that suddenly corrupted my mind! And because the update was late and I might not be able to post weekly, I'll be posting this smut for some fresh content for y'all hehehehe

The portal to another dimension Chapter 5 is not yet now open!

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scriptmedic · 4 years ago

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TENSION PNEUMOTHORAX MULTI-ASK

Hey there lovelies! Thanks so much for your asks!

First off, basics: check the ( thoracic trauma ) tag and the ( pneumothorax ) tag. This is ground we've covered before!

There's also a chapter in Blood on the Page: a Writer's Compendium of Injuries (amazon link; yes, I am the author) on pneumothoraces. I believe it's in section 2.2: Penetrating Trauma > Chest.

I genuinely thought this chapter had already posted, but it hasn't.

So have a free chapter on me! (Below the cut)

Tension Pneumothorax

Lethality Index

5 / 5

What Is It?

Tension pneumothorax is a life-threatening injury that occurs when air gets into the chest but is outside the lungs. The buildup of air begins to put pressure on the lung, the heart, and the great veins. The condition is rapidly lethal.

Breathing is a pressure system. To inhale, the body pushes the diaphragm down and expands the ribs, which creates negative pressure in the lungs; that negative pressure draws air into the lungs from the outside world. To exhale, the diaphragm comes up and the chest relaxes — it gets smaller — pushing the air out. Easy peasy.

Tension pneumothorax changes this closed system to an open one, where air leaks from the lung into the sac around the lungs (the pleura) and gets trapped there. Positive pressure then builds up in the pleura, compressing the lung.

The fact that there's air in the lung is known as simple pneumothorax. (Pneumomeans air, and thorax means chest.)

What makes a tension pneumothorax such a big problem is that the air pocket in the pleura becomes large enough that it collapses the lung.

In addition to collapsing the lung, having that much pressure on one side of the chest is a big problem. It actually causes the organs of the chest to shift, to skooch over to the other side. In that shifting, the heart and other lung wind up pinching off blood flow through the heart, reducing blood flow everywhere.

Clinical Signs

· Severe, worsening shortness of breath, with rapid breaths.

· Diaphoresis (sweating).

· Elevated heart rate.

· Narrow pulse pressure (the “distance” between the systolic (top number) pressure and the diastolic (bottom number) pressure; e.g. 90/80 instead of 120/80).

· Engorged veins in the neck (jugular venous distention, JVD).

· Cyanosis (bluing of the skin of the lips and nail beds). (Late)

· Cold, clammy skin. (Late)

· Tracheal shift — the trachea is no longer midline in the neck, and instead is pushed away from the affected lung. (Late)

· Loss of consciousness. (Late)

· Death. (Late)

Symptoms

· Pain at the injury site and possible pain in the rest of the chest.

· Trouble breathing and panic.

· Feeling of impending doom.

· Dizziness, disorientation.

How Does It Happen?

Tension pneumothorax develops when a character suffers penetrating trauma to the chest that allows air to move between the outside and inside of the chest. This can be the result of a stabbing, shooting, impalement, or other penetrating trauma. It's especially common when the lung itself has been lacerated.

Immediate Treatment

Keep the character upright.

Provide oxygen, if available.

If the character is in respiratory failure — if they're dying — someone might give them mouth-to-mouth resuscitation or use a bag-valve-mask (BVM) to ventilate them. This actually makes the pneumothorax worse, but it may be beneficial in the short term because of increased gas exchange.

Needle Decompression

Needle decompression is the act of taking a big fat IV catheter and sticking it into the chest on the affected side. (There are two landmarks in common use: between the 2nd and 3rd ribs, on a line drawn straight down from the middle of the clavicle, or between the 5th and 6th ribs, in line with the front border of the armpit. These are technically called the 2nd intercostal space (ICS) at the midclavicular line, and the 5th ICS at the anterior axillary line.

Needle decompression works by giving the air trapped in the pleura an effective way out.

The problem with needle decompression is that, especially with larger characters, it isn't necessarily effective. Oftentimes the needle is simply too short to reach the pleura, especially in larger characters with strong pectoralis muscles or fat deposits, including breasts. Other times the catheter may kink or get backed up with blood.

Definitive Treatment

Needle decompression has the potential to be a definitive treatment for the injury, but only if it's effective in the first place, and only if the needle is hooked up to some form of drain system to make sure that air can escape.

Surgery / Hospitalization

Diagnostics will include a chest X-ray and likely a chest CT, though if the character is in mortal danger, these will always take a back seat to a clinical diagnosis – i.e. by signs, symptoms, and history – and providers will treat first and image later.

The definitive treatment for tension pneumothorax is placement of a chest tube or pigtail catheter in the chest. A chest tube is a large, straight tube, while a pigtail catheter is of a smaller diameter and is curled, like a pig’s tail.

Both are simple, quick procedures in the ER. They both involve putting a tube into the chest at the 4th or 5th intercostal space (between the 4th–5th or 5th–6th ribs) vertically aligned with the armpit (axillary line).

The end of the tube will have something called a Heimlich valve, which is a one-way valve (air can go out but not in).

Another option is a procedure called a finger thoracostomy. The surgical landmark is the same as for all other procedures, but the act is simpler and more brutal. The site is identified and the doctor — who is likely an ER physician — simply cuts down through the chest wall until they're touching lung. This is done in extreme circumstances, where the character is about to die. Otherwise, a chest tube or pigtail catheter is preferred.

In the Austere Environment

Characters who suffer a tension pneumothorax in extreme conditions are likely to die, unless a knowledgeable character with the correct equipment is around.

In settings before about 1950, the character is also likely to die, and they'll die gasping. Treatment of the tension pneumothorax requires understanding pressures inside the chest, which weren't readily measurable till then. Trauma surgery simply hadn't advanced to the point of understanding this rapidly lethal wound until that point.

The Rocky Road to Recovery

Capabilities Retained

Characters will retain the use of all four limbs and will be cognitively unaffected (barring brain damage from an extended period of low oxygen levels).

Disabilities: Temporary

Your character is likely to have a sensation of pressure at the catheter insertion site. Once the lung is reinflated, they can walk and perform most normal activities while the wound heals.

They will be instructed not to fly for six months after the pneumothorax. This is because altitude affects pressure and can cause reexpansion of the pneumothorax.

Disabilities: Permanent

Tension pneumothorax shouldn't cause any permanent disabilities, unless there are other complicating features of the injury.

Features of Recovery: Hospital Stay

Characters with no other complications, who respond well to the pigtail, can actually be sent home with the catheter in place. Characters with other injuries or who got bigger tubes will likely be admitted.

Features of Recovery: Aftercare

Characters will be instructed to walk up to their capacity, and increase their walking daily. They may want to use a pillow or other object to hold when they cough, because that can be painful.

If a character is sent home, they must come back for follow-up X-ray within 48 hours, to make sure the pneumothorax hasn't reexpanded.

The catheter should be removed after 3–5 days if no other issues arise.

Complications

Pigtail catheters are good for patients because they're smaller than chest tubes, which means they hurt less and can often be sent home in the patient.

Pigtail catheters are bad for patients because they're smaller tubes, which means that they might kink and then fail to vent out the air they need to get rid of.

Flying before the recommended date can cause another pneumothorax, though this is unlikely to be severe enough to collapse the lung again. However, the character might experience significant shortness of breath and exhaustion.

The New Normal

If the lung tissue itself wasn't damaged by the object, your character will return to their full function within 2–4 weeks. (No Disability)

If the lung was damaged by the injury, they may have other complications with the lung.

Future Risks

Even when they think they're healed, significant, rapid changes in altitude within the first 6 months could cause your character's pneumothorax to recur. No long-term risks are known.

Total Recovery Time (Typical)

Uncomplicated: 2–4 weeks

Complicated: Minimum 4 weeks but typically longer, depending on the damage

Sensory

Sights

The hole in the chest might be small, or it might be fairly large. Through a large enough hole, characters can see the injured's lung expanding and collapsing with each breath.

Sounds:

The wound may make a sucking noise as the character breathes. (This is known, appropriately, as a sucking chest wound.)

Medspeak

Tension pneumothorax is abbreviated in a chart as TPTx or TPx, and is colloquially known as a "tension pneumo."

Chest tubes are listed in various sizes; pigtails tend to be 12 French or 14 French, whereas chest tubes are larger: 24 Fr to 36 Fr. Pigtails are inserted over a guide wire, which is called the "Seldinger technique." They are held in place with a kind of stitching called "purse string" suture.

A TPTx that also has significant pooling of blood in the pleural space is a hemopneumothorax, or a "hemopneumo."

The landmarks are almost never said as "intercostal space," but referred to as the "ICS."

Key Points

· Tension pneumothorax is a rapidly lethal condition, developing from slight trouble breathing to deadly within minutes to an hour.

· TPTx collapses the lung and puts enormous pressure on the heart. It also kinks the great vessels.

· TPTx is treated by allowing the built-up air to escape. This is done with a needle, insertion of a tube, or cutting down until the lung can “communicate” directly with the outside world.

#this post is not medical advice #this post is writing advice #blood on the page #tension pneumothorax #pneumothorax #asks #recursive tagging

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meltwonu · 4 years ago

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| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 | [CHAPTER 20] FINAL

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, sex toys, shibari, dom!seungcheol, dirty talk, overstimulation/forced orgasms, squirting, degradation, name calling, daddy!kink, gags! 😍💕 ✨HAPPY NEW YEAR!!✨ Here’s to more fun fics in 2021! I can’t believe this is our last chapter though omg 😭 It’s been suuuuch a journey and a privilege to write this little series out! I’ve honestly thought about a camgirl/boy series for like, over a year now, and I’m glad I finally did it! I completed one of my goals! 🥺💕 2020 was definitely a wild one, but I want to thank you all so fuckin’ much for supporting me and stickin’ it out with me all year! Here’s to more in the coming year!💕 Also I was proofreading this at the dining table last night thinking my roommate wouldn’t come out of their room but they did(while I was making dinner and my hands were dirty so I couldnt close my laptop ☠️) and they walked past my laptop and now I’m convinced they saw my fucking smut fic right in the open so yes my little mini-break next week is MUCH needed cause I am ✨embarrassed✨ 🤣 I’ll still do my inbox roundup tomorrow and probably answer a bunch of small thirst posts ‘n stuff throughout the week but there won’t be any drabbles! For now, enjoy chapter 20 🥺, have a safe weekend, and remember that I love you~ ❤️🍒💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 COMPLETE

Seungcheol wakes up much earlier than you do the next morning; pressing a kiss to your forehead as you groan and snuggle deeper into your pillow.

“Baby, I need to go run some errands for a little bit, okay? Just keep sleeping, you don’t need to get up yet. But, I made breakfast and put it in the microwave for you when you decide to get up later.”

His voice is muffled and you can barely understand what he’s saying but you nod; a soft sigh on your lips when you drift back into dreamland. He takes his time getting ready, checking his phone notifications as he gets dressed and places a note on the nightstand knowing that you didn’t catch a single word he said.

‘Hey, did you get everything I asked for?’

Jimin🧍🏻: of course, who do you think I am? Jeongguk?

Jimin🧍🏻: and btw, i’m just giving you a crash course okay? We don’t really have a ton of time

Jimin🧍🏻: did you watch those tutorial videos I sent you?

‘Yeah, I did some practice on my breaks, but I guess you can tell me if I’m doing anything wrong.’

Jimin🧍🏻: okee, i’ll be waiting. Don’t get here too late!

‘I’ll be otw soon. Thanks again, Jimin.’

“Ow--damn, okay, you don’t need to tug on it so much!”

“Sorry, I’ll be careful! And why are we practicing on you anyway?! Couldn’t you just have shown me pictures or something?”

“How else will you learn if not on an actual body? It doesn’t work the same way, Seungcheol.” Jimin pauses, checking himself in the mirror. “Also, keep in mind she does have boobs so just… go slow, okay? It’s not gonna sit like this on her.”

Seungcheol blushes a crimson red; biting the inside of his cheek at how amateur he was at this.

“Okay…”

Seungcheol is gone for a lot longer than you anticipate and although he replies quickly to your texts, you can’t help but be curious about where he’d gone and what he was doing.

Especially knowing that the two of you had to film tonight and knowing that everything was up to Seungcheol.

A shiver rolls down your body at the thought and you quickly try to shake off the nerves that seem to slowly invade your body when your mind starts to wander.

“It’ll be fine, I’m sure…”

“I’m home!”

“Where have you--oh, that’s… a b-big box? Um, should I be concerned...”

Seungcheol grins, shrugging as he sets it onto the kitchen counter. “Just some supplies for tonight. I had to go pick them up from a friend but I had to make sure everything was right.” He notices the way you can’t seem to take your eyes off of the box; eyes twinkling when he makes his way towards you.

He tilts your head up to meet his in a searing kiss, lips easing into a smile when you wrap your arms around his neck and melt under his touch. You moan against his lips just before he pulls away; staring dreamily at him while his hands start to roam over your clothed body.

“We have a long night ahead of us, sweetheart. Let’s pamper you a little before then, hmm?”

j__min: ??? where’s the loverboy

j__min has donated $200

angelhan has donated $75

therealchan99 has donated $50

xcaliburDK has donated $75

xcaliburDK: is that the sybian? Haven’t seen that in a looong while

You bite your lip and nod, somewhat shy as you sit alone in front of the camera. “Seungcheol’s still… setting up but he told me to start! I’m a little nervous, to be honest…” Your eyes flit to Seungcheol who rummages through the box in the kitchen and from the angle you’re sat in, you can’t see a single thing he takes out.

Earlier, he’d cooked you your favorite meal and even took the time to give you a full body massage before the two of you cuddled on the sofa and watched a movie. To you, it seemed a little too suspiciously tame and you only found yourself more nervous when he made you drink two glasses of water and ever so quietly announced it was time to start getting ready for the camshow.

“He’s being so suspicious! He was even gone for a few hours earlier today…” You mumble; brows furrowed at the camera before checking the comments.

It still amazed you every time with how much money you and Seungcheol made from the camshows and videos and it made you feel even better knowing that everyone loved the chemistry the two of you had together. There were a lot of video requests and ideas mixed in with the comments at any given time and you were definitely ready to pitch some to Seungcheol now that you’d rebranded your channel to be a couple’s channel instead.

“Almost done, sweetheart!”

gc__koo: he told me to watch cuz he was being suspicious with me too

gc__koo has donated $50

alphagyu97: what is he even plotting

alphagyu97: i am excited to see the sybian again tho ngl

artist8hao: pretty baby gonna squirt for us again?

universe_WZ: hell fuckin yea let us see how fuckin wrecked you get on that machine

You feel your pussy clench around emptiness at their comments; already feeling yourself getting wetter and wetter with the anticipation.

Movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention and Seungcheol walks towards the bed with a wide smile and the same box in hand. “Ready?” You can only nod back slowly, watching as he dumps the contents of the box right next to your body.

gc__koo: oy

chwenon: oh shit

sleepy_wonu: oh baby, you’re in for it now

sleepy_wonu has donated $100

Your entire body fills with warmth as you look over the various objects; unsure of where to really look first. “I, um--”

A stack of red ropes sits next to a small bullet vibrator that sits next to a ball gag that sits next to a pair of EMT shears and your eyes immediately flit up to Seungcheol who only smirks back at your shocked expression. “I had some other toys I wanted to use but I figured I should go easy on you, y’know? Since you showed me some mercy last night.”

Nodding, you reach out towards the ropes, touching them shyly. “Why red?”

“Thought they’d be on theme for you, babygirl.”

Seungcheol takes his time; remembering Jimin’s words when he tugs the ropes around your wrists.

“Colour, babygirl?”

“G-green… daddy…”

He nods, sitting up on his knees behind you as you sit on the sybian and face the camera. You bite your lip, somewhat embarrassed that you were already soaking the toy underneath you as Seungcheol worked to bind your arms behind you.

“D--daddy, where did you l-learn this?” You whisper, somewhat curious if this had anything to do with why he was gone for so long earlier in the day.

“Mm, daddy’s friend Jimin was kind enough to help me get the tools and teach me a few tricks to make sure I kept my babygirl safe. Wasn’t that kind of him?” You nod gently, gulping when you shift atop the machine slightly in hopes of relieving some of the growing sexual tension in your body. “Why don’t you thank him properly, sweetheart?”

Your hazy eyes make eye contact with the camera, head tilted slightly. “T-thank you, J-Jimin… for--for helping daddy…”

j__min: omg a shoutout ive made it

kitty_junjun: we never thought we’d see the day

tangerine_kwan: and here we all thought you were gonna be the bad guy huh

hoshi_tiger_xx: like when u only see previews of the book online but the rest of it is different ykwim

Seungcheol makes sure your arms are bound snug enough but not too tight; leaning away slightly to admire his rope work. “Feeling okay so far, babygirl?”

Nodding, you whine back slightly. “Y-yes, daddy… But… my--my pussy wants s-something…” He laughs in return, readjusting so that he’s sitting on your side this time to give himself easier access to start the rest of the bindings.

“Is that so? You’re gonna have to be a little more patient this time ‘cause daddy’s not done yet.” He starts working on the rest of the harness; going slow and checking in with you often to make sure none of the ropes were digging into your skin or making you uncomfortable. “You’ll have to forgive me a little though, I’m admittedly a ‘lil inexperienced so our pretty babygirl is only going to be tied up in this pretty harness for tonight.”

gentleman_josh95: the fact u even took the time to learn just for her

gentleman_josh95 has donated $100

artist8hao: seriously, the dedication

kitty_junjun: we stan a man who knows safety and etiquette

Comments of reassurance and donations flood in at Seungcheol’s small apology and although the two of you are in your own world; you can tell from just the amount of pings coming from your laptop that they all seemed to be encouraging him.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as Seungcheol continues to move around you on the bed to finish the harness and a smile graces his lips when he starts to secure the last knots in the back. He can’t help but mentally pat himself on the back at how neatly he’d done it for his first time.

“There. All done, baby.”

Your eyes flit to the laptop’s screen to see yourself; cheeks hot when you see how fucked out you already look and he hadn’t even touched you properly or turned on the machine.

The star harness Seungcheol had tied looks pretty with red ropes and you can’t hide your smile at how good it looks on you too either. “Ah, daddy made it really p-pretty… Thank you.”

This time, Seungcheol nods, letting you admire yourself as he silently reaches for the small remote for the sybian, switching it on.

Your entire body lurches forward as soon as the vibrations attack your clit and you immediately find yourself moaning and grinding down onto the machine as he gives you some relief.

“You’re welcome, babygirl. Now let’s really have some fun, huh?”

You need to cum.

Badly.

“Awww, is my pretty baby drooling? Does it feel that good on your sensitive ‘lil clit?” He teases, smoothing down your hair as you cry around the ball gag in your mouth; drool seeping out from the side of your lips when he raises the vibrations a setting higher.

You don’t know how many times he’d played with the settings and edged you by now, but all you do know is that the urge to cum only grows stronger as you grind against the machine, soaking it with your wetness as you chase the pleasure building up in your body again.

Surely cumming was okay, right? He never said you couldn’t.

You whimper around the ball gag, eyes fluttering shut when the tension in your body snaps in the blink of an eye and your thighs clamp down onto the sides of the machine. Throwing your head back, you moan against the gag and ride out your high as Seungcheol watches you from the side.

“Mm, bet that felt good, huh? But I know you want something in that greedy ‘lil cunt of yours, don’t you? You want daddy’s cock slamming into your tight ‘lil hole ‘til it’s full of my cum, right, sweetheart?” He licks his lips, turning off the sybian as you slump forward.

universe_WZ: shit shes so sensitive

chwenon: especially with her arms bound like that i bet she’s on cloud nine rn

gentleman_josh95: her cute lil head is probably all fuzzy already from all the sensations

therealchan99 has donated $100

gc__koo has donated $75

j__min has donated $150

All you can do is whimper and nod; teary eyes blinking back at Seungcheol as he smirks and leans in towards you.

“Mmm, you’ll get what you want eventually. But for now, you’re gonna cum again.”

He turns the sybian back on, licking his lips when he sees your body tensing again. It was always easier to get you to cum a second time and his point is proven when you mewl around the ball gag a few minutes later; chest heaving in stuttered breaths as you try to shy away from the toy still vibrating against your overly sensitive clit when you’re quickly thrown into another orgasm.

“You always cum for daddy so easily, don’t you, babygirl?”

Your head feels fuzzy after already cumming twice in such a short span of time but you nod, head lolling to the side as Seungcheol finally turns the sybian off for good.

Seungcheol gives you a second to catch your breath before he’s scooting in and fiddling with the clasps at the back of your head to take the ball gag off.

A thread of saliva connects your lips to the gag and you whimper at how good it feels to be able to actually speak again. “D-daddy…” Drool drips from your mouth as your lead lolls forward and Seungcheol is quick to bring a hand up to keep your head up as he looks into your lust filled eyes.

“Colour, sweetheart?”

“Still g-green…” He nods back, checking to make sure none of the ropes had shifted. “Would you like some water before we continue, baby?”

“Yes, daddy…”

He fetches you a glass of water, tilting it against your lips as you down the entire glass and you find yourself a little surprised at how needed it was. “Thank you, d-daddy…”

“You’re welcome, babygirl. Ready to keep going?”

You nod, a little bit more energized. “I hope everyone, mmh, l-likes the show so f-far~” Your teary vision prevents you from reading the comments and before you can even make an effort to, Seungcheol is already helping you off of the machine and helping you sit on the bed across from him.

alphagyu97: ugh she looks so fucking good in that harness

angelhan: right? That shade of red looks so good against her skin too

angelhan: so fuckin pretty

tangerine_kwan: pics for the private room later? Plz i beg

Seungcheol takes this time to take off his boxer briefs, cock curving up against his abdomen when he’s fully naked across from you. He wraps a hand around his cock, moaning and spreading the precum down his shaft as you watch. “D’you want this, baby?”

Your lips fall open in a silent moan as you watch Seungcheol jerk himself off and you can’t help but squirm. “Y-yes…”

“Tell me exactly what you want then. Let them hear what a filthy little slut you are for me.” You can’t help but feel miserably empty watching him and despite having already cum twice, you want his cock fucking you open and making you cum again.

“I--I--”

“Yes, babygirl?”

“I, ngh, I want d-daddy’s cock… Please? Ah, I--I wanna feel you fucking my--my pussy into the, mmh, s-shape of your c-cock… And I w-want you to c-cum inside my--my slutty little h-hole…”

Seungcheol scoffs, hips shallowly thrusting up into his enclosed fist. “That’s right. You’re just my slutty ‘lil babygirl that lets me use all her tight holes how I please, right? You like it when I cum down your throat and in your pretty ‘lil ass. But we all know you like it best when I cum in your hot ‘lil cunt. Makes you feel all warm and full, doesn’t it? You like it when my cum is dripping out of your spent cunt and sliding down your shaky thighs.” This time you nod furiously as you whine back in response.

“P-please… Can’t wait any--anymore!”

This time, the impatience takes over as you slightly tug on the ropes; whining when they don’t give. “Daddy!”

And this time, he gives in quicker than he anticipates, growling as he reaches for the EMT shears to cut you from the harness. “Don’t let your arms down, no matter how much you want to. You’re going to strain your arms if you move too fast so let me handle it, okay, sweetheart?”

The sudden gentleness in his voice has a giddy warmth pouring over you as you nod and sit still while he cuts at various points of the harness to make the ropes fall loose around your arms and chest. You keep your arms in the same position like he requested and you soon feel his hands roaming your skin and massaging your arms to get the blood flowing again.

“You’re so good for me, baby.” He whispers against your hair, leaning down to kiss your shoulder before he slowly easing your arms down from being folded behind your back.

He continues to massage your arms for a few more minutes before it’s you that’s getting impatient. “Daddy… Can you fuck me now?” Whispering, you slightly turn your body to the side to meet his gentle stare.

Seungcheol laughs under his breath, nodding. “Lay on your back for me, legs spread.”

You follow his orders as you quickly scramble to get into position; legs spread wide for him to situate himself between.

“Mm, your pussy is still so fuckin’ wet. I wanna taste you on my tongue, baby.” Whines spill from your lips as you shake your head ‘no.’

“No! My p-pussy feels empty, I need y-your cock, daddy… ‘n I’m so wet, you can probably, ah, just s-slide your cock in…”

He wraps a hand around his cock just as you wrap your legs around his waist and he guides himself until the head of his cock is right at your entrance.

Neither of you say a word as he slowly starts to sink his cock in; guttural moans on his lips when he meets no resistance and bottoms out in a singular thrust. “Holy fuck, your cunt is so fuckin’ wet. Shit, and so t-tight!” You clench around him, already feeling good with his cock inside of you as you beg him to fuck you hard and fast.

“Ngh, p-please fuck me like--like I’m your, hah, c-cocksleeve… I want it f-fast, daddy!”

He grits his teeth at your words; drawing his hips back before snapping them into you just how you wanted. “Fast, hmm? All you think about in that pretty head of yours is my cock pounding you open, huh? Slamming into you so fuckin’ good, it makes your toes curl when you cum.”

Seungcheol starts a quick pace, already feeling the pleasure building up for himself when you’re reduced to garbled noises and broken cries of his name. The heels of your feet dig into the small of his back as you try to press him in closer and he’s quick to reach for the small bullet vibrator left on the bed next to your body.

“Your body is so fuckin’ sensitive, I can already feel how tight you’re getting around me. So fuckin’ greedy to cum too. Already came twice and you still want more. You’re not satisfied until your whole body is shaking underneath me, huh, sweetheart?” He turns the small toy on, pressing it to your clit as you yelp and let out choked sobs.

“Ah, ngh, d-daddy, my--my clit’s t-too sen--sensitive! I--I can’t--!” Squirming, you feel the pressure building up obscenely quick; bottom lip quivering when he takes one of your free hands and makes you hold the toy to your swollen clit.

“Just a little more, sweetheart. Don’t you wanna cum?”

He angles his thrusts to graze against your g-spot and loud cries of his name leave your lips in a hurried, jumbled mess when he only doubles his pace.

The sound of donations and comments pour in like water and get lost within the ringing in your ears; unable to even warn Seungcheol that you’re about to cum when you feel your entire body starting to lock up underneath him.

Your lips part in a silent scream and your back bows off of the bed, thighs shaking uncontrollably as you cum for the third time. Seungcheol growls, fucking you through it as you squirt all over his lower half. He finds it harder and harder to thrust into you as you cum, but he feels himself quickly following suit with your warm walls fluttering around his cock.

“Fuck, baby, that’s right. Squirt for me, get me fuckin’ soaked while you cum.” He uses a free hand to make sure you keep the toy pressed to your clit, growling when he starts to unload his cum inside of you. “Mmh, gonna fill your cunt up with what you want, baby.”

A shaky moan leaves your lips as you feel him throbbing inside your pussy; walls clamped down onto him in a vice grip as you ride out the remnants of your orgasm.

“Ah, d-daddy’s cumming suh--so much inside of my p-pussy…”

Whining, you feel Seungcheol’s grip on your hand give way as he rides out his pleasure and you take the opportunity to turn off the small bullet vibrator while he doesn’t notice.

You watch his face contort in pleasure, hips still shallowly thrusting into you as his entire body shivers above you.

“D-daddy’s so h-handsome...” You mumble, cheeks hot when he cracks a smile through the pleasure wracking his body and chuckles under his breath.

“Thank you, babygirl.”

After you end the show, Seungcheol makes sure to cuddle with you on the bed for a little while longer.

“One more glass of water, baby.” You whine in response, pouting up at him before he gets up from the soaked sheets.

“But I already had a glass! If you have a piss kink just say so, ‘Cheol!”

He lets out a boisterous laugh at your comment, trudging back to the bed from the kitchen with another glass of water for you. “You need to be hydrated, sweetheart. You came three times and we played a little more rough today. I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“Fine, but you didn’t deny my comment.” You snarkily reply, taking the glass from him as you down the water.

“Don’t make me have to punish you again! I’ll have you know I still need to get you all washed up and change the bed--”

A faint pinging has the two of you turning to the laptop; still on your camming homepage from where you’d checked the revenues from tonight’s show.

A small [1] sits above your inbox and Seungcheol is quick to turn to you with an eyebrow raised. “I thought you turned off the messaging system on your profile?”

You tilt your head in confusion, handing him the emptied glass. “I did. The only messages I should get are from, like, the actual system admins or other creator accounts which, I haven’t received any ‘til... now, I guess?”

Seungcheol sets the glass down onto the nightstand before he takes a seat next to you, dragging the laptop closer as you go to check the notification.

“’Love&Letter Films’? Aren’t they one of the biggest adult film companies?” Mumbling, you click on the message, giving yourself and Seungcheol a second to process the message that stares back at you; a shocked smile on your lips.

‘Hello!

I hope this message finds Cherry and Seungcheol well.

We, at ‘Love&Letter Films’, have really enjoyed the shows and videos from your channel throughout the years and we really have enjoyed watching the growth of your channel and the addition of Seungcheol to it. The dynamics between the two of you are rare in this industry and we’ve yet to see anyone like the two of you in this market.

The shows from the last two nights have proven that the two of you have the right kind of chemistry to film together for bigger productions and we would love to hire you for a few film productions we have planned in the upcoming weeks as a feeler. Of course, all expenses paid by us if you would kindly take our offer.

We love the various scenes and roles that the two of you take on with ease and we would love to help propel your careers forward, should you pursue a career in the adult entertainment industry.

Please don’t hesitate to contact me as I’ve listed my contact information below. I’m excited to hear from the two of you and hope to work with you in the future on many projects.

Respectfully,

Kwon Soonyoung, L&L FILMS CEO’

#cherrybomb!cheol #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #scoups fic #seungcheol fic #scoups #seungcheol #svt fic #seventeen fic

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hermannsthumb · 3 years ago

Note

hello i adore your fics <33 could you write something during the war where newt & hermann sleep/cuddle in each other's beds whenever they're stressed (but are still incredibly repressed)? no pressure obv!!

SURE THING!! getting back in the prompt game!!! been working on longer fics and some regular work this summer so sorry ive been spotty with writing 👀 I'm aiming to get through a bunch of these at 1k words each

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Newt isn't necessarily expecting the knock on his door a little bit past midnight, but he can't really say it surprises him. Hermann was more on edge today than usual, getting pissed at Newt for stupid little things (like finishing off the coffee creamer that Hermann doesn’t even like in the lab fridge, or humming along a little too loudly to his iPod), discreetly taking ibuprofen for what Newt knew was a bad headache, swearing under his breath and erasing his entire chalkboard every time he made the tiniest calculation error. It’s the culmination, Newt knows, of a majorly stressful week—another kaiju attack, multiple mandatory Shatterdome personnel meetings about the kaiju attach, reports on the kaiju attack and the mandatory meeting due, Hermann hoarding the weight of where the deployed jaeger failed and pushing himself to fix it all, immediately. Newt’s not sure he saw Hermann have a full meal (ie, something more substantial than black tea and a cigarette) once all throughout all of it. He’s not sure he saw Hermann sleep somewhere other than his desk either, or even change his clothes.

So, no, Newt isn’t expecting it, because expecting it means it’s something they do (which they one hundred percent don’t), but he showers early that night, and he changes into a big t-shirt along with his boxers instead of just the latter, and he makes sure his spare pillow is fluffed and placed delicately on his bed. Just in case. And all of it in time for the timid knocking at 12:13 am.

Knocking which isn’t even finished before Newt swings open his door. “Hey, dude,” he says, leaning casually against his doorframe.

Hermann stands in front of him in pajamas, his pillow tucked under his right arm, his toothbrush clenched tight in his left fist. His pajamas are old and clearly well-loved: blue plaid, hanging slightly off his frame, missing the third button from the top. He hasn’t worn this pair over to Newt’s bunk yet. Newt recognizes his thick wool socks, though. He teases Hermann for wearing socks to bed every single time. (Not that Newt is keeping track of what Hermann wears on the super and totally random times he comes over.) “Good evening, Newton,” Hermann says with a terse, polite nod, like they just bumped into each other on the street, or it’s pure coincidence that Newt happened to be behind this very door that he decided to knock on. He peers around Newt into his bunk. “Oh, have you tidied up?”

“I picked my dirty laundry up,” Newt says, by which he means he dumped it all onto his desk chair to deal with later.

“It’s a sight better than it usually is,” Hermann says. "I can actually see your floor."

He clears his throat.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he continues. “I know it’s rather late.”

“Nah, not at all, I’m always up now," Newt says. It's kind of a lie. He's asleep by now on normal nights (barring when he really needs to pull an all-nighter in the lab), but he kind of had an inkling he'd need to stay up an extra hour or so. It's weird how well he knows Hermann sometimes.

"I was taking a walk and thought I might stop by," Hermann says.

Hermann’s eyes drift over Newt’s shoulder, over to Newt’s bed. Newt made sure that his sheets were fresh, too, and he's stripped his bedspread back enough for them to peek out invitingly. Newt’s become shockingly more hygienic since this became a whole totally not-thing. Hermann shifts his weight a little more heavily to his cane. “Very good,” he says. “Er. Well. Considering we’re both awake, I wonder if I might come in to—talk. Or some such thing. I’m having…difficulty sleeping.” He clears his throat again. “Insomnia.”

Newt feigns surprise. “Oh, man, really? Of course, totally come in!” He opens his door wider. “My electric kettle is already boiling if you want tea or something. I mean—I turned it on so I could have tea, but there’s enough water for two people. I wanted a lot of tea,” he adds.

(Newt bought the kettle for Hermann after he almost had an aneurysm when Newt tried to heat up water in the microwave for him.)

“Tea would be nice,” Hermann says.

While Hermann shows himself in, Newt steps over to his bookcase and begins rifling through his tea collection for some of the herbal decaffeinated stuff he keeps on hand for the completely random occasions Hermann drops in. Honestly, though, all of Newt’s tea collection is also kind of for Hermann. Newt is generally more of a coffee sort of guy (barring boba tea, which rocks), so his tea collection kind of just sits there gathering dust when Hermann’s not there. He quickly fixes a cup of herbal tea in Hermann’s favorite of Newt’s mugs (a sturdy old MIT mug, big enough to fit two regular cups) and turns to find that Hermann has already made himself at home in Newt’s bed. “Thank you very much,” Hermann says.

Hermann is taking up the right side of the bed, his own pillow and Newt’s spare propped up beneath him, his cane propped against the wall. It’s the side he always takes. Newt has started thinking of it as Hermann’s side, actually, and has stopped bothering to return items that Hermann routinely leaves on the bedside table because of it—his spare glasses cleaning cloth, a half-finished book he’ll let Newt read along with him over his shoulder, a notepad he’ll sometimes scribble random equations down in. Newt’s own stuff (a lamp, his alarm clock, his glasses) looks barren without Hermann’s at this point. Newt’s kind of afraid to decide what that means.

He hits the light and slips into the left side of the bed. He tries very hard not to look at Hermann's delicately crossed ankles, because it's cute and it makes him feel disgustingly warm and affectionate inside, which is totally not how he should be thinking about his fussy lab partner. “Did you want to talk about anything?” he says.

“Mm,” Hermann says. His arms are crossed across his chest, too, very prim-and-proper. “Not particularly. It’s been a miserable week, is all.”

He drinks his fill of the tea, then sets both his mug and his glasses onto Newt’s side table. Newt doesn’t have to be asked to pull back the bedcovers for him or to gently drape them over Hermann when Hermann makes himself sufficiently comfortable on the mattress. He especially doesn't have to be asked to wind his arm around Hermann’s side, nudge his knee between Hermann's legs to prop up his left, and draw him snug up against his chest. Hermann showered, too—he smells like the same PPDC-standard soap Newt uses, and his short hair is still damp and tickles Newt’s nose. Immediately Hermann sags against him, like all the tension is leaving his body. Newt feels him sigh softly. A moment later, Hermann squeezes his hand. “Thank you, Newt,” he says. It's so quiet Newt thinks he imagined it for a second.

“Sure,” Newt says.

Maybe they’ll talk about it eventually—Newt knows they probably won’t—but the truth is that Newt never sleeps as well as he does with Hermann in his bed, too.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag

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vintagedolan · 4 years ago

Text

mixtape - track eleven

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

I was hiding from myself too. I was hiding from the part of my brain that was like ‘what are you gonna do now?’. Like, there’s a part of your brain that does thrive off of feeling like shit.

The voice shifted, just for a moment.

Yea-

It was a tiny sound in the back, from behind the camera. It didn’t even form a full word before Ethan continued talking, but Indy flinched anyway. It was always worse when she was unprepared for it.

In her distraction, she’d streaked her concealer too far past her eye and sighed, using her finger to pat it in, ignoring the way it splotched. It probably wasn’t the right shade, and it was definitely expired, but it was enough for her to look like maybe she had slept in the last two weeks.

She hadn’t. Not really. Every time she closed her eyes, even to blink, he was there. Sometimes, she welcomed it. But in that moment, standing in her mirror in her scrubs, she didn’t want to see his face. She didn’t want to hear his voice. Because she had to keep it together for 16 hours. 12 hours at the hospital on the peds floor, and another 4 at her shift at Jet’s afterward. So she kept her eyes open, took a deep breath, and walked out of her bathroom.

On the other side of the country, Grayson’s eyes were closed.

He wasn’t sleeping. It was 4 in the afternoon, which was the earliest time he could consider himself done with work for the day and escape to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. It only got down to the high forties in LA, even in January, but he climbed under his comforter anyways, pulled his baby blanket up by his face.

Time seemed to crawl by while he lay there alone. He rolled to his side, pulling his pillow down to wrap his arms around it, and when he opened his eyes, he wished he hadn’t. On his nightstand, turned towards him, was the frame that Indy had gotten him for Christmas. He wished she hadn’t curled up so much when he’d taken it. He wished he could see her face more in the glossy material, wished she had given him a picture of just her instead. When he squeezed his eyes shut again he could see her face better, every feature committed to memory. So he looked. He focused on the different shades of blue in her eyes and pretended like she was in class, and that he was on her couch waiting for her to come home.

A knock sounded on his door, and his heart tightened.

Ethan stepped in the room with a bag of Monty’s and a hopeful smile.

Grayson didn’t move.

“I brought you dinner.”

Nothing.

Ethan sighed, dropping the act. He was giving up on it earlier and earlier these days.

“Bro, you’ve gotta eat. You didn’t eat lunch.”

“Not hungry.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, tough shit then, cause I’m not leaving you alone until you eat at least some of this.”

Grayson knew his brother, better than he knew himself sometimes, and he could tell by his tone that he was serious. He didn’t have the energy for a fight, and despite himself, his stomach growled at the smell of the fries in the bag, salty and warm. So he sat up begrudgingly and let Ethan pass him the bag, pretending not to see how his shoulders slumped in relief.

He didn’t have to ask why Ethan stayed. It was to make sure he didn’t sit the bag down as soon as he closed the door behind him. So he waited, and he watched his brother eat his burger slower than usual, fighting to chew it and force it down.

“Where’s yours?” He asked eventually - he knew better than to think that Ethan hadn’t gotten himself a burger.

“I uh… I ate with Eden.”

Grayson stopped chewing. His question was blatant in his eyes, and he waited for the answer.

“No, I didn’t fucking tell her,” Ethan grumbled, running his hand over his face. “But I don’t know how much longer I can do this, I feel like I’m fucking lying to her.”

“Did she ask about… her?” He caught himself. He hadn’t said her name since they left New York.

“Not yet. She knows something is up with you though, and if she starts asking questions I’m telling her.”

“No.” It wasn’t a plea. It was a demand.

“Grayson. She’s gonna find out eventually, I gotta tell her.”

“No. Twin code.”

“Don’t pull that shit man, c’mon, we aren’t six anymore. That’s my wife, and she’s gonna be pissed as fuck at me. If you don’t tell her, I’m gonna have to.”

Grayson stayed quiet and put the rest of his burger back in the bag, his small appetite fading to nausea at the thought of having to admit to anyone else what he had done. He hadn’t had to explain it yet - Ethan knew enough to put the pieces together, and he had enough heart to stay quiet on the plane, just passing over his napkin from his drink as an extra tissue while Grayson looked out the window and cried quietly. But he wasn’t going to tell Eden - he wasn’t ready for that.

Ethan sighed. “I’m just saying Gray, she’s gonna start asking me questions, and I’m not gonna lie to her, that’s not me. That’s not either of us.” He paused, hoping for a response he knew he wasn’t going to get. “Whatever. We have a meeting at 10 tomorrow.”

Ethan left the room in silence, and Grayson closed his eyes.

Indy’s struggled to keep hers open. It was almost 4 am the worst hours of her shift. She poured another cup of coffee from the nurses’ lounge, ignoring the fact that it was burnt as she sipped it down and willed herself to wake up. Part of her wished it was iced - warm drinks made her sleepy, and worse, reminded her of cold New Jersey mornings that she couldn’t afford to think of. Just the idea of reminiscing made her chest tighten enough for her to suck in a breath and start to search for a distraction. She read the schedule instead, checking to see what tech would replace her come 7 am. She still had two vital checks to do on each patient, opting to do them on the even hours. Her head tipped back as she drained the rest of her cup and tossed it in the trash, needing to keep her mind busy.

It wasn’t her job - only nurses could distribute meds, but she could prep the trays for the kids to make their lives easier. So she moved to the med cart and started to look through.

“Adams, Adrian, Bellon, Campbell, Cortez, Jenkins, Kimp, Lopez, Mullins, Norton.” Her fingers stopped for a moment as she traced down the last names on the cart, mumbling them out. No Newcomb. She double-checked. Nothing.

Bekah didn’t have a tray.

Indy’s heart sped up a bit, and she waited until she saw Ayria, one of the night shift nurses, coming out of a room.

“Hey, do you need me to get Newcomb a tray? Hers isn’t on here.” It felt weird to refer to Bekah by her last name, but she didn’t want to seem unprofessional.

Ayria frowned, coming to log into the computer on the med cart and check the charts.

“Oh yeah, everything she’s getting is IV right now, no pills.”

Indy took a breath and steadied herself, glad to see that the clock had turned and she was able to make her rounds. She’d become an expert at taking vitals without waking the kids up - even some of the more seasoned nurses were impressed.

But she could never get past Beks.

The first day, during Indy’s orientation, Bekah could tell something was wrong. It was only three days after Grayson had left after all. Indiana knew that the floor needed a tech, and she knew they’d take her as soon as she asked. She also knew that if she let herself stay at home that she’d never leave it again. So she went and bought the cheapest scrubs she could find and mustered up enough energy to show up.

She didn’t really need Ayria to show her around that day. She knew the unit inside and out from her time as a volunteer; she just needed the codes for the supply rooms and a list of her tasks for her 12-hour shift. But she was glad that they were together when they went into Bekah’s room because Bekah was kind enough not to say anything with someone else there. Now, she didn’t hold back.

“You look like shit,” she said as soon as Indy walked in.

“It’s 4 am, you should be asleep,” Indy countered with a smirk. The incident on Christmas was forgiven without a second thought, and she was relieved to be back to their normal banter as she put her blood pressure cuff on.

“You should be asleep. This is your last shift of the week though.”

“Says who?”

“You’ve been here three days already, that’s the max you can work without overtime.”

Indy kept quiet and wrote down her blood pressure in the chart.

“Are you okay?” Bekah asked quietly, and Indy sucked in a deep breath, trying to stop the tears flooding her eyes.

“I’m fine Beks. Promise.”

Bekah contemplated if she should say it.

“Is it Grayson?”

Indy’s breath caught in her throat. Her hands shook as she held up the thermometer, and she had to blink hard to be able to read the numbers and scribble them down.

Bekah took her silence as an answer.

“Sorry. I know it must be hard, having him so far away,” she murmured. Indy couldn’t find her voice to tell her that it was okay. She fiddled with her blankets, tucking her in nicely and dimming her lights down to give her time to clear the knot in her throat.

“Get some sleep Beks.”

She held it together until she got outside her room, and then the tears escaped. As quickly as she could, she ducked her head and beelined for the nurses’ desk, using her oldest trick of drinking water to keep herself from fully breaking down.

Valentina sat at her desk and watched with a frown, but she didn’t say anything.

Indy gave herself one minute, and then she took a deep breath and got back to work.

Time crawled, and she cursed herself for not leaving enough things to keep her busy for the rest of her shift. By 6 am, she’d resorted to cleaning the tables in the break room and reorganizing supplies in the supply closet to keep herself occupied. She knew the day shift nurses would appreciate the extra effort - they always sung her praises, thrilled to work a shift after her considering how well she set it up for them.

Valentina came into the supply closet at 6:30.

“You might just work our daytime tech out of a job,” she said, making Indy jump and drop the bandages she was restocking.

“You scared me,” she said, catching her breath. “Just restocking.”

“You work too hard,” Valentina shook her head, crossing her arms. “You’re gonna burn yourself out sweetheart, and we need you around here.”

“I’ll be alright.”

“You act like I don’t know you’re going to your other job right after this.”

“They give me good coffee there, what can I say,” Indy teased, but when she looked Valentina’s eyes were sad. “I like to keep busy.”

“Too busy,” she tsked. “You leave at 6:50 today.”

“Valentina-”

“Keep talking and I’ll make it 6:40,” she threatened. “And you get some sleep later, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Indy conceded, knowing it wasn’t an argument she could win. Nurses weren’t the type to lose an argument, and she’d never met a more nurse-y nurse than Valentina. She finished stocking quickly, gathering her bags and double-checking she’d finished everything before she headed out, waving goodbye to the nurses she saw.

She was distracted on her way out, and she didn’t think when she hit the button to get into the next hallway.

For two weeks, she prepped. Mentally paused and thought of all the things that could hit her out of the blue, make her come unraveled. She was ready, for the couples in the street holding hands, for the husbands coming to walk their wives home from work, the high schoolers on hot chocolate dates in the big city. But it was always the small things that got her.

She hadn’t prepared herself, and her eyes automatically went to the walls when she cleared the doors. The ocean mural. The jellyfish, the sea turtle on the wall that Grayson had said looked like Ethan once. It hit her like a ton of bricks, her chest so tight that she reached up to press on it as she heard his voice in her head. It made her feel pathetic, the way she had to stop and grab onto the rail in the hall and steady herself for a moment. She counted her breaths, trying her hardest to shut her mind off, staring at the blue of the walls as she willed herself to be okay, just for another day.

Grayson was staring at the water. Or at least, he was trying to. The moon wasn’t very bright, but it reflected enough off the ocean for him to get a sense of which way the sun would come up. The whole surface was washed black by the night sky, and it was peaceful. He wanted to swim in it. He wanted to sink beneath it and find that blissful quiet you could only find underwater.

He’d fallen asleep soon after Ethan had left him alone, which meant he found himself wide awake at 4 am, body tired of being asleep. Sitting in bed would only make things worse, so he sent Ethan a quick text and headed off in the Porsche towards the secret beach. There was no one else there so early in the morning, and he was grateful. It gave him the peace of mind to curl in on himself, let the tears flow freely as the waves lapped at the shore, returning over and over.

Time ran away from him in the dark. His tears ceased eventually, dried themselves out as he sat in his misery. He didn’t fight it. Instead, he let it wash over him, sink into every pore and weigh him down, wishing he could somehow disappear into the sand as the sun started to rise and wash the world in light orange. His phone buzzed, no doubt a text from his brother. He elected to ignore it, keeping his eyes on the water, counting the waves as they came in. It was admirable, the dedication they showed; returning every time they got sucked back out.

At some point, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he sighed, pulling his hood up over his head in a feeble attempt to hide himself from whoever was watching him. He stood up and brushed the sand off himself, ducking his head down and jogging straight back to his car, hoping whoever it was wasn’t trying to come up to him.

As soon as he ducked into his car and pulled the door shut, he sunk down, resting his forehead against his steering wheel.

“Fuck!” He yelled, smacking his dashboard. His radio turned on with a jolt, connected to his phone and automatically starting his playlist. Cudi blared through the speakers and he groaned, hitting all the wrong buttons in an attempt to get it to turn off.

“Stop, fucking stop!” In a last attempt he chucked his phone across the car, watched it ricochet off the dash and down into the floorboard. He threw his car into reverse with blurry eyes, desperate to get away from anyone who might have a camera. He was paranoid the whole drive home that someone was watching, eyes darting to the windows of any car he ended up next to at a stoplight. It wasn’t until he got the gate closed behind him and he was in the house that he felt like he could breathe again. With Ethan still asleep down the hall, he choked back his sobs as he sat down at the counter, face in his hands.

Indy was taking deep breaths behind the counter as the line started to pile up at Jet’s. She looked to her right, frowning at the stress on her new coworker, Mariposa’s, face as the cups continued to line up next to her.

“Hey Posie,” she called over between customers. “Do you wanna switch?”

“God yes,” she exclaimed, rushing to take Indy’s place at the register so she could move over to the bar.

Indiana preferred it that way. She didn’t have to smile for a latte, she just had to pour it and try not to burn her fingers and move on to the next. It had come back like second nature to her, and she liked the fast pace. It gave less time for her to think, and she welcomed the numbing repetition. She kept an ear piqued towards the register, listening to the orders coming in so she could get ahead. The next one came from a taller man, his face hidden behind a coat.

“Just give me the biggest cup of the strongest stuff you’ve got.”

Indy dropped her cup, a half poured latte splattering all over her hands first, down her apron, then the bottom of her jeans and onto her shoes. It only took one look over at the man to realize it wasn’t Grayson, and she deflated.

“Shit,” she hissed, flicking her hands in an attempt to chill the burn that was already searing on her skin. She side-stepped to the sink, flipping the cold water on and letting it flow over her hands. It stung even more, and she sighed at the bright red of her skin. She’d had enough burns from her time as a barista to know that it would blister.

“Indiana, you okay?” Patrick called from the ovens, moving a line of pastries in and out.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

He frowned, but kept quiet, letting her get back into the groove of making drinks. Indy could feel him watching her, the familiar weight of a protective eye over her shoulder. At least he was kind enough to wait until her shift was over before he tried to talk to her again.

“Hey, how’s your hand?”

Indy looked down and sighed at the sight of her red skin, resisting the urge to rub it. Instead, she moved to the first aid kit and grabbed a wrap bandage.

“It’s been better, but I’ll survive.”

“Why don’t you take the day off tomorrow,” Patrick suggested as casually as he could. “You know, to rest your hand.”

Indy scoffed.

“It’s not gonna fall off Patrick, I’m fine.”

He sighed. “Fine, if you’re gonna make me say it then I will. You’re a hard worker, one of the best we have, but you’re exhausted. We can all see it, and you don’t need to burn yourself out like this for a minimum wage job. So, you’re off tomorrow. No exceptions.”

“But-”

“No. Exceptions.”

Her anger bubbled up in her like the blister forming on her thumb, but she knew it wasn’t Patrick’s fault. He was right - she was just upset at the idea of having an entire day with nothing to distract her. An empty apartment had never seemed so daunting, and it was all she could think about as she clocked out, got her things together, and walked home.

It was quieter than she’d imagined when she got through the door, the click of the latch echoing through the still space. She thought of turning on music, but that only made her think of Grayson, singing off-key next to her in the truck. She could put on a movie, but it would make her think of cuddling with him on the couch. Her bed was where he had been so many nights. He’d cooked in her kitchen, he’d helped her move furniture in the guest room.

She couldn’t escape him, no matter where she went. And so, as pathetic as she felt doing it, she sunk down right there on the floor, and she let the misery have her. It came in broken sobs that caught on her throat on the way out, too loud even for her own ears as she tried to imagine a day where she didn’t feel like the world was crumbling around her.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there. But eventually, the things no one ever talked about started to happen. Her butt went numb, and her head started to hurt, and her lips got dry from the saltwater that ran over them. None of that mattered though. What finally got her up from the cold floor was the fact that she was sticky - remnants of the vanilla syrup in the latte that she’d dropped finally congealing and making her feel more disgusting than the tears. She peeled herself up off the floor and headed to her bathroom.

Grayson was in the shower, with his head down, water splashing over his back and bouncing off his shoulders - a statue in the rain. It was the best place to avoid getting on his phone, considering he couldn’t, and that was the only way he could trust himself to not get on twitter and see the aftermath of the morning.

He wondered for a moment what he looked like from outside the glass shower door, standing there with his razor up by his chest. The blades clogged with the long hairs he shaved from his chest, leaving him bare and smoother than he’d been in months. He sat the razor down and moved to pick up a clear bottle from the shelf. Polis was scribbled on it in sharpie in Ethan’s handwriting, remnants of a Wakeheart meeting. Grayson could remember how excited he was to pitch the idea, even if it was over zoom.

“I finally came up with the third body wash scent. Vanilla, with a hint of coffee and then a little bit of sandalwood to keep it professional and put together.”

He’d had to whisper it - Indy was asleep in her room, the product of a good post study-session back rub that had lulled her into a much-needed nap. The team loved it, thought it complimented the other two scents they’d been testing well. Ethan was hesitant, but he kept his mouth shut and brainstormed a backup if needed.

Grayson was thankful for the gesture, even when he’d told him that he’d started planning it as early as he had. But he wasn’t willing to give it up, and he made it very clear in their first meeting back that Polis was a permanent scent. It felt like a tiny piece of her that he could hold onto. Still, as he stood there and held the bottle up to his nose, it wasn’t the same. As pitiful as it made him feel, he tried closing his eyes, tried to imagine she was there with him, standing in front of him, giggling like she always did when they showered together.

He couldn’t do it justice. Couldn’t feel the warmth of her skin against his, couldn’t smell her shampoo or watch her try to bend over and shave her legs in her small apartment shower without bumping into him. He’d held her hips to help her keep her balance, listened to her laugh and talk about casual intimacy, heard the way it echoed off the tiles and became his favorite sound in the entire world.

His tears mixed with the water, his pain palpable as he started to quiver just barely, the memory enough to break down the paper thin wall he’d managed to drag back up to protect himself. When his knees shook he gave up and sunk to the ground, green tiles of the bench seat icy against his back as he buried his face in his hands. He’d never felt weaker in his life, and he wished he was ten again, so his dad could wrap his strong arm around his shoulder and tell him that everything would be alright.

He went for the next best thing once he managed to get enough energy to get up and turn the water off. A few swipes of his towel over his body and hair, then he pulled his boxers on and put on his robe, walking straight out of his room and down the hall.

Ethan’s door was open, but he wasn’t in his bed like Gray expected. He was at his desk instead, a look of stress on his face that Grayson was all too familiar with. A pang of guilt resonated in him when he realized what his brother was doing - picking up all the slack that he was leaving in his misery.

He hadn’t said a word about it though, and that made it worse.

It took Ethan a moment to realize his brother was there, but as soon as he did he turned his desk chair, giving him his full attention.

“Hey.”

Grayson didn’t answer.

“You okay?” Ethan tried again. Grayson’s throat burned, and he shook his head, sitting on the end of the bed. He’d never been able to hide from Ethan, and luckily, he never really had to. Because Ethan was the type of brother to act tough when he needed to, but soften up at the smallest things. Which was why Grayson wasn’t surprised to see his brother rise up out of his chair, coming to sit next to him. The bed sunk down a bit with his weight, and Grayson let himself press up against his brother. The air felt heavy while he waited.

“You’re good. Just let it out.” Ethan’s voice was quiet, and he leaned his cheek against his brother’s head and felt him go to pieces. It was the hardest Grayson had cried since the airport, and every sniffle made his head pound but he couldn’t pull himself together. Those were the kind of moments where he wondered how people survived without twin brothers. He felt safe there with Ethan - if everything else fell apart, at least he’d have him. There were a million things he could say, but he already knew what the answers would be. Ethan would tell him that he’d find someone else some day, and that Indy would heal and that he shouldn’t feel guilty for doing what he did. He also knew that Ethan would say all of it even if he didn’t believe it, because their pain was shared.

Grayson cried himself out again after an hour or so, his sinuses pounding behind his eyes as the headache settled in.

Ethan stayed still - he knew better than to leave him. It wasn’t until Grayson finally wiped at his eyes that his brother relaxed a bit, watched him stand up and run his hands over his face. It felt colder without Ethan right next to him, but he knew he needed to sleep.

“Try to get some sleep,” Ethan echoed his thoughts. “We need to record the pod tonight if you can.”

“Okay. I can help with the emails, I know we probably have a shit ton.”

Ethan was already shaking his head before he finished.

“Just get some sleep, okay?”

Grayson nodded and gave him the best smile he could manage before he went back into his room, climbing back into the safety of his covers with his phone in his hand, just in case she called.

Indy’s pillow was wet. It was mainly from her hair soaking into the pillowcase - she didn’t have the energy to dry it after her shower. But she’d also made a terrible mistake. One scroll through the app store and a quick log in and she was back onto instagram, ignoring the now thousands of follow requests she had in her notifications. It only took one click to her explore page and her tears were adding to the moisture below her cheek.

He had on his Cudi hoodie, the yellow one. She wished she’d been there to tell him not to wear it. It was too bright, a target for the cameras that seemed to find him. The first ones she saw stung. They were only of his back, taken from far enough away that she could pretend it was someone else. But she knew the way he sat, with his arms over his knees.

The next ones hurt, because she could see his face. He was walking, and she knew him well enough to know he’d realized what was happening and tried to leave, just from his posture, the way he slumped while walking. His eyes were red, those dark circles that she’d ran her fingers over so many times worse than she’d ever seen them. Ever since he’d left, she’d wanted to know how he felt. If he missed her at all, if he was as miserable as she seemed to be every minute of every day.

It hurt worse to get her answer than it did to wonder. She’d hoped he was upset, but suddenly all she wanted to do was hold him, tell him it was okay, that she was okay even though she wasn’t. It was impossible not to scroll, looking for anything new, any hints as to what he had been up to since he’d gotten off that plane.

She had never asked for a front row seat to his life, but she’d take it if it was the only glimpse of him that she could get. It made her feel pathetic, but she didn’t care enough to fight it.

Eventually, she found herself scrolling his page. She couldn’t tell how she got there, but she couldn’t seem to leave it either. So she just scrolled, averting her eyes from any comments, and pretending, just for a moment, that everything was back to the way it was. That he was just busy recording a podcast, or that he’d be sprawled out on her couch when she went out to the living room.

She held onto it until she walked out of her room, knowing she needed to eat even though she didn’t want to. She kept her eyes off the couch, moving to her cabinets that were barren apart from a few avocados that were rotten. With a sigh she threw them in the trash that was close to overflowing, opting instead for the last box of mac and cheese she had left.

Indy was thankful for muscle memory, her mind wandering off to better days where her kitchen wasn’t so quiet as she cooked the pasta she really didn’t want and took it back to her room, curling up under her covers as she ate.

Grayson had two empty boxes of vegan mac and cheese in front of him, one of which obviously had an ‘E’ scribbled on it that he’d ignored when he made them. He shoveled the noodles into his mouth, ignoring the way they burnt his tongue just barely. Ethan walked in and saw the boxes, opened his mouth and shut it again.

“S’pod setup?” Grayson said around a mouthful.

“Yeah, I set up the pod, we’re good whenever you’re ready.”

“Gimminute.”

Ethan just chuckled and shook his head, happy to at least see his brother eating even if he was shoveling it down like he hadn’t seen food before. He waited, seeing that Gray was done within the next two minutes, sitting his bowl in the sink and stretching his arms out. He looked tired, but Ethan hoped the pod camera was far enough away from them to make the dark circles subtle enough.

“Do you want some of my old concealer stuff? For under your eyes?”

Grayson hesitated for a moment, picking at his nails. “You still have it?”

“Yeah, hang on.” Ethan ran to his bathroom, snagged the compact from his bottom drawer and brought it to the kitchen. “Come over here, you’re supposed to do it in natural light.”

He held it out for Grayson, who just looked up at him.

“I don’t know how the fuck to do it, you do it.”

“Do I look like a makeup artist to you?” Ethan asked, and when Grayson stayed quiet, he sighed and flipped the compact open, swiping his finger through the semi-creamy substance and moving to pat it on his brother, frowning when it was more difficult than he thought it would be. “Look up you fuck, I gotta blend it.”

Grayson just rolled his eyes but did as he was told, sitting still until E said he was finished and led the way to the studio. They got settled in their chairs, double checking the camera angles. Ethan cleared his throat, waiting until his brother looked at him.

“Are we… do you want to mention anything about…”

Grayson waited. He wondered if his brother was really going to be dumb enough to ask.

“Are we talking about the pictures, yes or no.”

“What the fuck do you think the answer to that is,” Gray grumbled.

“I’m just saying, if you mention it you can say what you want about it, get your own voice out there. Whatever you say, I’ll go along with it.”

“Great.”

Grayson took a deep breath, gave Ethan a look that read as an apology, and clicked the button to start recording. He stayed fairly quiet the first few minutes of the recording, waiting to jump into a conversation that didn’t make his throat tight. The podcast was his favorite place, because he could let himself actually speak, say what he wanted to say without worrying.

It came back to bite him in the ass 45 minutes into the episode, when his guard was down and he had finally lost himself the way he did when he worked. They were talking about birds, and how they had a bad, unjustified rep.

“I mean, Gizmo can be an asshole sometimes, but she’s only an asshole when people are like, scared of her,” Ethan mused.

“Right! She gets all shy when I come home after a while, but when Dee came in the house the first time she was freaking out, just from hearing her and I swear, every time after that Giz just like, screamed every single time she was even in the house.”

“Gray-”

“No seriously! You remember how loud she got? Fuck, remember that time she went down to help mom with dessert and Giz was out and she cried?”

“Grayson.”

“What? Did I peak the mic?”

Ethan’s eyes were sad. “You… you said her name.”

“Huh?”

“Indiana. You said Dee, when you were telling that story.”

He swallowed hard. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He could see him spiraling, and he tried to reel him back in. “You’re okay. We can just cut it, and start again with a story about Gizmo.”

“Yeah uh… just give me a second.”

“Sure. Whatever you need.”

“Just, uh, say what you said again before,” Grayson murmured, shaking his head to try and clear it. But it was too late - he was so consumed by what his mind had brought back to the surface that he could barely hear Ethan repeat his words.

“Yeah-” Grayson came in a moment late. “Giz is a special one.”

Ethan waited for him to continue, but jumped in when he didn’t. “She gets shy when you haven’t been home in a while and you show up. That’s the thing about animals dude, like people think about cats and dogs and they can recognize their emotions, but with stuff like birds and cows and shit, people just don’t think about them that way, and it fucking sucks. They have feelings too! Gizmo’s fucking sassy bro, she will let you know how she’s feeling, especially if she’s pissed. Bro, we should have Giz on the pod, do you think she’d talk? She can whistle, we could show off her tricks.”

“You can’t put a bird on a plane,” Grayson mumbled. His eyes were fixed down on the blue center of the table, and he was fidgeting with his sleeves.

“Yeah, but we can put the mics in our suitcases and just record at home.”

Ethan realized it a moment too late. He wanted to snatch his words out of the air, scratch them from the tape when he saw the way Grayson’s eyes met his, saw the gloss near his waterline.

“Yeah - uh - um,” Grayson tried to save it, and then he covered his mouth, silencing the squeak that turned into a sob. He pretended it was a cough, bringing his hand up and running his fingers over his forehead, shielding his eyes from the camera.

“I uh, I miss home a lot more this time than I usually do,” he said, his voice froggy with the tightness of his throat. Ethan couldn’t say anything. There was nothing to say as he watched his brother fight and lose in his battle to keep his composure, covering his mouth as he cried, knuckles brushing up against the mic.

“Fuck, sorry, I’m sorry E.”

“It’s okay, hey, it’s okay.” Ethan was up so fast he forgot to take off his headphones. They fell back into the chair when they pulled off his ears as he moved to his brother, pulling him up into a hug. “We can finish it later, we’ll just cut to an ad or something. It’s okay.”

“Sorry.”

“Shh. It’s fine bro, it’s fine. C’mon, let’s go get some air.”

Air wasn’t what they found.

Instead, they found Eden, standing against the counter with her arms crossed in a way that had Ethan’s blood running cold. He thought the sight of Grayson practically curled in on himself might have softened her up, but she stood her ground until both of the twins were looking at her.

Grayson knew that she knew, and she only confirmed it when she spoke.

“What. The fuck. Is wrong with you.”

Back in New York, Indy’s phone was ringing. Or at least, she thought it was. But when she unlocked it and was blinded by the light, it was just her lockscreen, Grayson smiling at her with 3:04 written across the top. Judging by the darkness, she knew she hadn’t slept the afternoon away, but the buzzing continued until she finally climbed out of bed and realized it was the intercom system - the front desk calling her through the small phone on her wall that hardly ever rang. She pulled it off the receiver and held it up to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi Ms. Cross, there’s a gentleman here to see you.”

Her heart skipped, and she clutched the phone with both her hands.

“Who?”

There was a beat of silence, and Indy could vaguely hear her ask him for a name.

“His name is Devin.”

She sucked in a breath, letting her head and her hopes fall.

“Send him up.”

It took her a moment to process her grief before the panic set in. If Devin was showing up unannounced, something bad must have happened. She swung her door open, chewing on her nails as she stood in the doorway, waiting for him to appear. He came out of the elevator with a small duffle slung over his shoulder and a cautious smile that had her ready to cry.

“Dev, what the hell are you doing here? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Charlie?”

“Also fine. We’re fine.”

She caught her breath, and then she was frowning. “If everything is fine, why the fuck are you here at 3am?”

“Because you haven’t answered your sister’s calls in a week, and she’s worried sick about you.”

Guilt panged in her stomach - she hadn’t meant to ignore her. In all honesty, she’d ignored everyone without realizing it.

“I- sorry, I didn’t mean to. Just slipped my mind. Is she here too?”

“She’s got a wedding to shoot this weekend, and we only had one ticket anyways. Flight got delayed, tried to find a hotel for the night so I could wait until later this morning but I couldn’t find one so you’re stuck with me. Sorry,” he teased, reaching out to hold onto her shoulder. There was no malice in his voice, and Indy was grateful. “Let’s go inside.”

He didn’t ask for it, but she made him a coffee anyways alongside her own. She was tired, her eyes burning, but it wasn’t anything new from the last few weeks. She fought it, pulling one of the few sweatshirts Grayson had left at her place over her head before she sat on the couch, waiting.

Devin was quiet, tapping his fingers against his mug, out of his element.

“Dev.”

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t fly to New York to drink coffee with me. Talk.”

He sighed, sitting his mug down on the coffee table and turning towards her.

“Inds, we’re worried about you.”

Indy scoffed, a short, automatic sound.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t. You really, really aren’t. You’re running yourself into the ground for no good reason.”

“I’m trying to pay rent,” she countered, but even she knew it wasn’t true.

“Your hospital job pays more than rent. Jet’s is just because you’re scared to let your mind rest.”

Indy didn’t have an answer, so she sipped her coffee instead, cursing herself for telling Charlie everything in a moment of weakness. The silence was loud, and Devin sighed to break it after far too long.

“Have you talked to him? Since?”

Her throat was tight. “No.”

Devin wrung his hands together. “You do know it was fucked up what he did, right?”

“Dev-”

“I’m just making sure you know that. You can still make your own decision on however you wanna navigate it in the future, but you have to acknowledge that what he did was a new level of shitty. And he’s a good guy, I really do think he is, but he fucked you over, and you’re my family. And I protect my family. So I just need you to know that you didn’t deserve what he did to you, and he fucked up. Big time.”

“Right.”

“Okay, good.”

She let him believe it, though she’d only said it to appease him. She wondered if he would feel differently, if he had seen. If he had felt, the way that Grayson had shook in her arms, the way his sobs seemed to be ripping him apart every moment that he was hurting her. She wanted to pull up her phone, show him the pictures from the beach, show him that he was hurting too, that he didn’t want to hurt her. She wanted to prove it to him.

“When does your semester start?” He asked, pulling her mind off of it. She swallowed hard, then took another drink of coffee.

Indiana had spent three days in self pity when she got back from the airport. She let the misery have her fully - didn’t change her clothes, barely ate, hardly left her bedroom. And then, after that, she picked herself up and got to work. She applied for her tech job and called Patrick to see if she could get the schedules to align, and more importantly, she’d started to run numbers.

Medical school. Just the application fees alone were going to hit her budget hard, so much so that she reduced it down to two. JCU, and UCLA.

Her applications had gotten accepted three days prior, along with an email about a scholarship she was eligible for at UCLA that made it comparable to JCU’s tuition. But the money wasn’t the issue, and when it was time to accept, she knew that UCLA wouldn’t hold her spot forever.

She’d taken a deep breath, and emailed the registrar.

“I deferred.”

She was embarrassed to say it outloud, and for some reason it was the brick of the dam that fell, and her tears began to flow. She felt Devin’s hand on her shoulder before he spoke.

“Good.”

She hadn’t expected him to be mean - in fact, the meanest thing she’d ever heard him say was what he’d just said about Grayson. But it still shocked her enough to have her frowning.

“Good?”

“Indy. Do you realize how long you’ve been a student? Do you know who you are outside of being one?”

“I-”

“You’re the smartest person I know, and I love you, but I think you need to take a step back and really look at what you’re doing. Take a semester, fuck, take a year. Live. Breathe. You’re already ahead, and you’ll still be ahead.”

“I’m not worried about being ahead, Dev,” she whispered, running her hands over her face.

“Then what are you worried about?” There was a sincerness in his voice, and a gentleness in the way he held her hand that made her cry even harder.

“I just don’t know what the fuck to do anymore,” she blubbered, grateful when he pulled her over to his chest in a hug. He let her cry it out for a while, waiting until she was calm enough to hear him.

“I don’t have the answer to that, but I say, ask yourself what you really want the rest of your life to look like, and then do whatever you have to to get there. If it’s being a doctor, great. If it’s not, great. Just as long as it’s what you want.”

She took a shaky breath in, and blew it out through her lips, simply giving him a nod.

The problem was, she knew exactly what she wanted - and he was off in Los Angeles, cowering behind his brother.

“Baby, woah, hey, take it easy,” Ethan cautioned, side stepping into the war path she’d outlined, headed straight for Grayson. Her eyes were fire when she looked at her boyfriend and raised an eyebrow.

“He’s having a rough night, just take it easy,” he added.

He stoked the flames.

“You know who else is probably having a rough fucking night? Indiana. And we are gonna talk later-” she poked a finger into Ethan’s chest - “but right now, I’m not talking to you so I suggest you get out of my way.”

There was a bite in her tone that had Ethan rocking back on his heels, questioning just how far his duties as protective brother would go. He breathed out a sigh when he felt Grayson’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine E.”

He’d never admit it, but Grayson had been waiting. Ever since he pulled away on New Year’s, he had waited for the punishment. The anger, the disbelief, the spite that he thought would arise in Indiana at the realization of what he’d done.

It wasn’t until he got off the plane and into his room that he realized his true punishment would be the guilt, and the grief, and the realization that he’d pushed away the only future he’d ever truly known he wanted.

The anger was a welcomed change.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck, Grayson.”

“I know.”

“I don’t say a lot of shit about a lot of shit, but whoever you decide to be with could possibly end up as part of my family, forever, so fuck me if I’m invested, and I think I deserve an explanation on why I just got a call from Charlie to see if I’d talked to Indy, cause she’s ‘really going through it’.”

“I didn’t want to hurt her.” His eyes turned glossy, and Ethan stood up straighter.

“The fuck you didn’t,” she scoffed, running her hand through her hair to push her curls out of her face. “You realize how badly you fucked up, right? Right?”

“Yes.”

“And that you broke her heart right? Probably absolutely fucking destroyed her.”

“Eden-” Ethan spoke up.

“Yes,” Grayson answered, his chest tight. He wrapped his arms around himself, willed them to hold him together. It felt different, to have someone say it to him so directly, to confirm what he had done.

“Then why? Just… why?”

“Long distance wouldn’t have worked, and I didn’t want -”

“Oh bullshit. No one would have tried harder than Indiana to make that work, you fucking know that.”

“She shouldn’t have to deal with that, with me being so far away -”

“God you fucking self-sacrificial fuck!” She yelled. “She loved you, you moron, and when you love someone, you give! You hit a crossroads, you sit down and have a fucking conversation, and you fucking give! That’s what a fucking real relationship looks like, not you deciding that you don’t deserve to be loved and running in the other fucking direction!” Her face was red when she stopped to catch her breath. Ethan looked just as shocked at the outburst as his brother. Her mind seemed to catch up to her ears, and she backtracked.

“Sorry, fuck, that was -”

“No, you're right. You’re right. Everything you said was fucking right,” Grayson didn’t even try to hide his tears. He blubbered into his hands, ugly choking sobs that he wasn’t sure how he even produced. Ethan was at his side immediately, arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“What do I do?” He asked, voice muffled by his hands until he finally raised his head and looked at Eden with pleading eyes, waiting for an answer she was reluctant to give.

“You let her live. Don’t text her, don’t call her. If she calls, you don’t answer. When you go home, you don’t see her. You let her let go, and move on.”

All he could do was nod, and lean into his brother.

Indy leaned against the wall. It was cold and unrelenting against her shoulder, but it held her up better than her own legs would. She’d dropped Devin off at the airport that afternoon, and found herself back on the ped’s floor, waiting.

Valentina spotted her first from the nurses station, and the way she held her clipboard made it look like a weapon.

“My eyes better be deceiving me, cause’ I know that is not Indiana Cross standing in my hallway on her day off.”

Indy found it in her to laugh dryly. “Relax Val, I’m here to see Beks. Haven’t gotten to visit her off the clock for a while.”

Valentina still gave her signature disapproving stare, but she gave it up with a sigh. “Well, her family is visiting too. Mom and Dad, if you wanna say hi.”

It had been a long time since she’d seen Mr. and Mrs. Newcomb. They were lovely people, and they truly did come see her as often as they could. But they also worked two jobs a piece to try to foot the medical bills, which meant often was scarce.

Indy had never seen them in the same room before, and her stomach tightened. She was hesitant to go to Bekah’s room, scared to interrupt, but when she peaked her head around her doorway, she saw the couple sitting on the couch in the room quietly.

Mrs. Newcomb spotted her, eyes brightening as she waved her inside.

“Come in, come in!”

Indy was still hesitant as she walked inside, eyes darting over to a sleeping Bekah. She was curled up under her halloween blanket, brows furrowed down and skin pale.

“Hi Indiana, how are you sweet girl?” Mrs. Newcomb asked.

“I’m good, I’m sorry to interrupt, I just thought I might stop by and check on her but I don’t want to intrude.”

“No, no you’re fine! She was actually asking about you just before she went to sleep, you and Earring, whoever that is. Hang on.”

Indy watched as she moved over to the edge of her daughter’s bed, running her thumb along her cheek until she started to stir.

“Sweetheart, Indiana is here to see you. Can you open your eyes for me?”

Bekah whined, but pulled her eyes open, smiling slightly when Indiana moved into her view.

“Hey punk,” Indy said, crouching down so she could get to her level.

“Hey,” she whispered, voice hoarse. On instinct, Indy reached out to fix her head wrap, making Bekah’s mother smile. “What time is it?”

“6:55,” Indy answered.

“Mmm. Meds coming soon,” she mumbled. “Where’s Earrings? He doesn’t like needles, don’t let him see the needles.”

“No needles baby,” Mrs. Newcomb said. “Just some to make you feel better. You rest now.”

“Earrings,” she said again, and Indy could tell she was asking.

“He’ll be here to see you soon,” Indy lied, rubbing over her wrap like she would her hair if it was still there.

It didn’t click for Indiana until 7 rolled around, and Jennifer came in with a cup of pills instead of an IV pole.

Radiation and chemo don’t come in pills, Indy knew that much.

Mrs. Newcomb watched the realization come across her face, and she gave her a sympathetic smile.

“She’s… she didn’t get her meds.”

“Indiana baby, it’s what she wants. The new round didn’t work, the stem cells failed. It’s time to let her rest. We’ll keep her comfortable, the doctor says it’ll probably be a few weeks, maybe a month.”

Indy’s throat burned, and her breathing quickened, chest rising much too fast. She couldn’t say goodbye to anyone - it took all her focus to make it out of the building, running down the stairs and across the lobby before she was dry heaving in the bushes, the sight of Bekah’s frail body in her bed appearing every time she closed her eyes.

It wasn’t a conscious decision. More of an instinct, really, that drove her to pull her phone out of her pocket and pull him up and call.

In LA, Grayson’s phone buzzed against his nightstand. A new picture of Indiana popped up - her contact photo that he’d taken one day in Jersey. With a knot in his throat and Eden’s voice in his ears, he reached over and turned it off before rolling away and letting his tears soak into the pillowcase.

#mixtape #SO SORRY #im prepared for the yelling again #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fanfiction

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camiddletonxox · 3 years ago

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Post Snooze Shivers

Authors Note - Hey, I am bloody exhausted, Ive had a rough week. How are you all? I needed some justin fluff too, so here it is. :) x

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Pairing - Justin Mercado x OC/Charity Middleton

Rating - Teen and fluffy, because I love a bit of fluff

Summary - After a nap, Charity has the shivers

Word Count - 900

There was a endless list of things that she loved about Justin, like how he was the sweetest lover a girl could wish for. How he was sexy and made her weak at the knees when they were in the bedroom. But there was one thing that beat all of those things and made him just perfect. It was how he just did the little things for her, because after a long shift, she wouldn’t want to clean the house or cook the dinner, she would just want to nap.

An example of this was after she had been working to keep an eye on a full ward, even if she had patients and surgical cases on another. She had only meant to do a eight hour shift, but ended up doing at least a 12 hour shift that started at 4am in the morning. Once she had gotten home, she had thrown herself in the shower, and brushed her hair and fell asleep, and she had been asleep for an hour.

Justin had come home at 5:30, he had walked into the house as he usually did, and he found his fiancee laying on the bed, and she was peacefully asleep, she looked beautiful when she slept, there was just something about her when she was sleeping. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead, and he went to grab a shower himself, after all he had spent most of his days in stuff meeting rooms, and he was feeling sweaty. Once he had been showered, he went to check on her, she was still asleep, she was still peaceful so he had no intention of bothering her.

“I love you” he whispered to his sleeping fiancee, as he placed a gentle kiss on her head

He went downstairs and he decided to go through what they had in the freezer, because he could not be bothered to cook, and he was 100% certain that Charity would be feeling the same, if her shift had only gotten worse (even if it stayed the same) as she was saying at lunchtime. After a small time digging through the freezer, he found a chicken bbq pizza, and some mozzarella sticks and potato wedges, and he decided to wait to put them on.

Meanwhile, upstairs Charity had started to wake up, she yawned and closed her eyes for a small moment, she was bloody exhausted, it had been a shift. She rolled onto her back and all a sudden felt the cold, she groaned quietly in frustration as another yawn escaped her lips. She sat up and she went downstairs, to find a blanket, since she was sure a blanket would warm her up.

“You alright?” Justin’s voice startled her, since she didn’t know he was home, but she smiled. She continued to shiver slightly.

“ I am” she smiled, as she looked for a warm enough looking blanket because right now that’s all she could think about.

“Are you cold?” He chuckled slightly, she truly was the cutest thing, she got cold randomly and when she shivered, she just looked adorable.

Charity pouted and she nodded. “Post snooze shivers, I am self diagnosing” she replied and he couldn't help but laugh.

“I didn’t think you believed in self diagnosis” he mused and Charity just stared at him with a death stare.

“I just need a blanket” she groaned and he chuckled, and he went to go and find her what she was after, a nice warm blanket. He grabbed a fluffy white one from the spare room they had that they used for storage and he brought it to her, but once again found himself having a little chuckle as she was sat on the bed, her arms around herself, surely trying to warm herself up. He sat down next to her, and wrapped her in the blanket, to which she smiled, still shivering but gradually she was starting to feel better.

“Are you feeling better, my love?” He asks softly, his warm hand caressed her cheek for a moment, and she smiled gratefully, for he was the best fiance a girl could wish for.

“I am” she smiled and the two of them shared a gentle yet sweet kiss, it was only a gentle one but it was definitely a kiss that was needed on both parts

“I am glad, I will pop our dinner on, you just relax” he uttered, as he went in to kiss her again, because she was just so irresistible.

“Are you sure you don’t require any help?” She asks as she starts standing up but he playfully tackled her to the bed, laying on top of her, and he kissed her gently, and kissed that sweet spot on the side of her neck, that no matter what always seemed to melt her into a million little pieces.

“I will be fine, I found some pizza, mozzarella sticks and potato wedges” he said and Charity smiled, and she snuggled into the blanket some more.

“I am sorry I haven’t cooked anything, I just haven’t felt like cooking” she explains but Justin pops a finger on her lips to quieten her down.

“It is fine, I love you” he whispers, pressing another kiss to her lips that made her hum in absolute delight,

She gazed up to him for a moment, “I love you too, Justin”

#std justin mercado x mc #justin save the date #choices save the date #choices justin x mc #choices justin

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

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Breakable Heaven (pt. IV) - p.l. dubois

part I part II part III

Oh my gosh, I seriously can’t believe this little series has come to an end. I’m so so happy with how it’s turned out, and want to thank anyone who’s stuck with Laurel and Pierre-Luc throughout this month. It’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever done, and it’s yours to enjoy now. Please please let me know what you think of this part, what you think about the series - getting anon comments is amazing, my inbox is always open, and I LOVE reading tags. Reblog if you like what I’m putting out, it helps me know that!

Warning: Smut (It’s light, but it’s there, so no one under 18 please!)

Part IV (7.8k)

September 23 (thurs)

Laurel was running through the Toronto airport, her carry-on bag bouncing on the tile behind her as she frantically searched for her gate. Thank God Air Canada domestic flew from the international terminal; her layover was only an hour and ten minutes and even more time had been shaved off by a departure delay in Montréal. She had forgotten that flights from Toronto cleared U.S. Customs in Canada, and if she hadn’t been able to skip the line and slap her American passport on a kiosk reader she would have almost certainly missed her connection.

No matter how many times Laurel had tried to insist on an economy ticket when she and Pierre were booking flights for her visits, he refused to cave. “They don’t include a checked bag in economy, but they do if you fly business,” he had said, shrugging, with a small smile on his face. “Baggage fees alone would make it pretty much a wash.” Laurel doubted that, and she doubted that she’d need a checked bag for a four-day trip, but her husband had made it clear that he wasn’t budging.

So needless to say, she was more than a little bit out of breath as she finally arrived at Gate F66, which was conveniently almost as far away from her arrival gate as humanly possible while still being in the same terminal. She handed her boarding pass and passport to the gate agent, smiling apologetically as she hurried down the jetbridge. It was barely past noon, but there was nothing in the world Laurel wanted more than to sleep. Maintaining a full-time schedule at the hospital while also trying to organize a trip to Columbus that lasted more than two days meant she had to switch shifts. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue; that week, however, the only open slot was the 12-hour overnight shift on Wednesday. Which meant that she’d been awake for some twenty hours straight, but almost all of that had been on her feet at work, or walking from the parking lot to the check-in counter in Montréal, or running through the halls of Pearson Airport in Toronto. She took her seat, half-listened to the safety briefing, and passed out as soon as her head hit the headrest.

Much to her chagrin, the flight itself was only just over an hour, and she was really only able to get in a generous nap before their descent into Ohio. Sitting in the second row, she exited the plane in record time, flicking her phone off of airplane mode and waiting for a text from Pierre-Luc. At least she didn’t have to go through TSA again. He wrote back in record time, letting her know he’d be in his car at the curb right outside the terminal. She waited at baggage claim, grabbing her forest green suitcase; the same one she had when she’d moved to Toronto for university, fresh-faced and 18 and so, so unaware of what the world had in store for her. If only she could see herself now. Laurel ran her thumb along the side handle for a moment, pulling at a loose thread, before hefting it onto the floor and turning towards the sliding exit doors.

As promised, Pierre was waiting right outside the door, flashing her a bright smile and throwing the driver’s side door open as soon as he saw her. “Welcome to Columbus, babe!” he exclaimed, wrapping Laurel into a deep hug and kissing her on the cheek.

She laughed as the trunk popped open, each of them grabbing a suitcase. “It’s a little bit funny, don’t you think? That I’ve lived in the Midwest for almost my whole life and the first time I go to Ohio it’s because I’m living in Canada?”

“Maybe just a little bit,” Pierre said, holding his thumb and pointer finger about an inch apart. “I’m really happy you were able to come, though, Laurel. I got used to having you around.” His face was softer now, looking over at Laurel with an expression that wasn’t quite placable but seemed like it was somehow communicating so much in a single glance.

“Me too,” Laurel replied. The ride to Pierre’s Columbus apartment took just over ten minutes, and Laurel was in the door, petting the dogs, before the clock struck 3:00.

Pierre approached her from behind, his hands on her shoulders as he leaned around to kiss her on the cheek. “You want to take a nap?” he asked. “We’ve got that thing with the team at 7, and I know you’re probably running on fumes right now.”

Laurel nodded, giving him a weary smile, dropping her bag on the floor of the master bedroom with an all-too-satisfying thump. “Nap sounds good.”

---

The nap was good, so good, and Laurel woke up at half past 6 feeling like she’d just had the best sleep of her life. She yawned, rubbing her eyes, and looked around the room to see Pierre with his back towards her, buttoning up his shirt. He turned around, catching her eye, and grinned. “You like the view?” he asked, gesturing to his half-naked torso.

Laurel rolled her eyes, pulling the sheets up to poorly conceal her embarrassment at being caught. “And if I do?”

She heard a loud laugh, peeking her head out from under. “I’d say my wife has every right to appreciate it.” He walked around the bed while fastening the last few buttons, holding his hand out for Laurel to take. “I let you sleep as long as I could, but we’re going to have to get going in fifteen minutes or so. I was told that ‘we’ve waited this long to meet her, the least you could do is get your damn wife to the party in time,’” he said, adding air quotes for emphasis.

Laurel nodded, tossing back the covers and walking over to her suitcase, intending to rifle through the stacks of clothes to find something for the night’s festivities. Instead, she was greeted by an empty bag. She wheeled around to look at Pierre, who was sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at her suitcase. “I unpacked your stuff,” he said, nodding over towards the spare dresser. “It’s in there. I’m sorry if that seems weird and I won’t do it again if you feel like that was pushing your boundaries, but I know for me when I’m on roadies I like to unpack, even if it’s just one night. Makes it feel more like home.”

Laurel was too overcome with how sweet the gesture was, small as it may have been, to realize that that meant he had touched four days worth of bras and underwear. It shouldn’t have bothered him anyways, and if he hadn’t said anything about it, it clearly hadn’t. So instead, she pulled him into a warm hug, standing on her tiptoes to bury her face in the crook of his neck. “Thank you, P. One less thing I have to do.”

“You do still have to actually get dressed, though,” he added, giving her sleepwear an appreciative once-over. “Unless you’re planning on wearing that.”

She let out a giggle. “As much as I love wearing a massive Cloquet High Lumberjacks t-shirt and no pants, somehow I don’t think that’s the move,” she said, ambling over towards the dresser. She found the tops on the first try, pulling out a wine-colored wrap shirt and grabbing the same pair of light-wash jeans she had worn on the plane. Pierre moved to duck out of the room, presumably to give her privacy to change. Laurel made a split-second decision to call after him. “You don’t have to leave.” Pierre stopped in his tracks.

Laurel slipped the shirt on, tying it in the front, and fastened her jeans. Mascara on and booties zippered, and she was good to go. “So what is this thing, anyways?” she asked Pierre as they drove to Foligno’s house.

Pierre tilted his head. “Little bit of this, little bit of that. Half the typical beginning-of-the-year preseason party, half the wedding reception we never had. They were very insistent on bringing gifts, so be prepared.”

“Will do,” she said, laughing. “And by they, you mean…”

“Some of the guys, but mostly the wives and girlfriends. Their parties are the stuff of legends, so you can imagine how excited everyone was when I told them we never had a proper reception.”

“But they don’t know why we didn’t have a proper party,” Laurel reminded him.

“About that…” Pierre started, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Laurel froze, her thumb hovering over her phone screen, halfway through composing a text to Kristen. “Pierre,” she swallowed, her voice deadly soft, “did you tell someone?”

---

It was the Saturday before, and the team had gone out to celebrate the end of the first week of training camp. Sunday was an off day, so Saturday night found all the over-21s — and anyone who could get a good enough fake — at a bar in the city. Pierre had just crossed the line into tipsy, and as his captain was about to find out, tipsy Pierre was an oversharer. It was common enough for families to be a topic of discussion on nights out or in the locker room; that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that, as the old adage goes, drunk words are sober thoughts. And, if he was being honest, Pierre was still harboring some guilt from having to hide the truth of his and Laurel’s marriage from everyone, Nick included. Pierre hated that he couldn’t tell Nick the truth. He was his captain and his friend, and he felt the least he owed to him was not to lie.

“It’s just so weird being away from Laurel, away from Montréal, for this long,” Pierre sighed.

“Sure,” Nick said sympathetically, “but you said you’d been friends for a few years, so you’ve had feelings for her for a while, no? It’s obviously not ideal, but you’ve been away from her for longer.”

Pierre turned towards Nick, some of his beer — his fourth of the night — spilling out of the cup. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Nick rolled his eyes, thinking he was going to be hearing some dumb high school confession, that he had asked out a senior girl when he was a freshman, or filled his QMJHL captain’s gloves with shaving cream or something. He didn’t expect what he heard next.

“We got married so she could stay in the country, for her permanent residency. I never met her before June.”

Nick sucked in a breath. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

“Nope.”

“You realize how much trouble you guys could get into if they figure out, right?” he asked.

Pierre nodded, looking down at his clasped hands nervously. “We both do. But you’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

“No, of course not,” Nick said. “I trust you, and I know you and Laurel were just doing what you thought was the best and most logical thing given the circumstances.” Pierre let out a somber nod. “But,” he continued, “I feel like this whole...situation just leaves open the opportunity for things to get really messy really quickly.”

“Messy how?” Pierre asked.

Nick shifted uncomfortably in his chair, looking at a spot just beyond Pierre’s head. He didn’t want to, not really, but it was his job as Pierre’s captain — more importantly as his friend — to make him consider every angle. “Someone catching feelings, one of you falling for the other, or God forbid, someone else. There’s already so much at stake in a ‘normal’ marriage, but yours just has added complications.” Pierre felt a twinge in his heart. He didn’t want to admit it, he really didn’t want to admit it, but Nick was right. “Do you love her?” Nick asked softly.

Pierre sunk back into his chair. “I don’t know. She means a lot to me, more than I ever thought she would, but I don’t know. Plus, I have no clue how she feels about me, and I wouldn’t want to say something like that only to have her pull away.”

“Did you guys talk about that?” he asked.

“About what?” Pierre responded.

“About what would happen if one of you caught feelings. Because I’m assuming it was supposed to, is supposed to, be a strictly platonic thing.”

Pierre shrugged. “Not really. We didn’t like make a pact or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. We really didn’t talk much about it at all,” he said, finishing his beer. “I mean, obviously we agreed that we wouldn’t be seeing anyone else, dating or hooking up or anything like that. It was just too risky. But no, we never really addressed how we’d deal with it if one of us ended up...falling for each other. I guess it was just supposed to be a ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it’ type of thing.”

“And have you come to it?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know.”

---

Pierre finished the story, hazarding a glance over to Laurel, who was wringing her hands as she looked out the windshield. “I’m not mad at you,” she said finally. “If Nick said he wouldn’t tell, I trust you when you say he won’t. One of us was bound to let it slip eventually.”

He turned his eyes back towards the road, still feeling a pang of regret. She was almost being too good to him. “We’ll be okay,” he said, saying it just as much to himself as he did to her.

Laurel gave him a small smile as they pulled into the Foligno’s house, parking on the stone-paved driveway. “We will be.”

Janelle opened the door practically the second after they knocked, greeting Pierre and Laurel with warm hugs. “Laurel, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you,” she said, squeezing her hand. “We know how hard it is to find the time off and make the trip down, and everyone’s excited to see you.” She led them through the entryway to the living room, where Laurel was passed around to some twenty-odd players and their partners, where she introduced herself over and over again as “Pierre’s wife, yes the nurse from Minnesota who none of you knew existed.”

Dinner was a barbeque outside, Nick, Pierre, and some of the others manning the three grills as Laurel helped set up the drinks table. He held her hand under the table as they ate, his thumb gently rubbing across her thigh every so often in reassurance. “You good?” he murmured in his ear as Laurel sipped a beer, half-listening to some story Korpi was telling about a near-miss incident with a water ski back in Finland during the summer.

Laurel nodded, squeezing his fingers. “I’m good.”

Plates were cleared, dishes were washed, and everyone was herded into Nick and Janelle’s enormous family room, where a small mountain of wrapped boxes and bags sat in the far corner. “I don’t know if you know this,” Janelle said conspiratorially as Laurel sat down, “but NHLers make more than a little money.”

She laughed. “So I’ve been told.”

“Which means that, clueless though they may be, you’re going to be getting some very nice presents.”

And very nice presents they were. A wine club membership, a set of dutch ovens from Seth — “It was my mom’s suggestion” — Jones, an espresso machine from Boone, a set of matching, personalized dog bowls for Phil, Georgia, and Piper. Laurel honestly wasn’t sure how it was all going to fit in the car, let alone how she was going to manage to stay under the baggage limit on her way back to Canada, but the thought and kindness that went into each gift was what really made it special.

“From me and the other girls,” Janelle said, passing Laurel a bag.

“Oh, this is too much,” Laurel said. “You already got the knives and the mixer, I don’t need anything else.”

Cam’s wife, Natalie, shrugged. “Would it help if we made it, didn’t buy it?”

Laurel’s brow furrowed in confusion, her fingers moving to undo the ribbon that tied the handles together, taking out the tissue paper. “Oh!” she gasped quietly as she pulled out a denim jacket, a Blue Jackets logo ironed onto the back, Dubois embroidered where a name bar would be. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“You’re still a part of the family,” Natalie said, smiling. “Even if you’re not here all the time. We want you to feel as included as anyone else.”

Laurel folded up the jacket carefully, tucking it back in the bag as Josh walked up to Pierre, holding out a small box, clearly wrapped by himself. “Well now I just feel silly.”

Pierre shook his head, smiling at his friend. “Don’t, Josh. I’m sure we’ll love it.” He thumbed open the folds on the wrapping paper, setting it aside before pulling off the top of the box. He fell silent.

Laurel peeked over, trying to catch a glimpse of the box’s contents. “What is it, P?”

Instead of answering, Pierre just held the box upside-down. Condoms of all colors and sizes rained down onto the hardwood floor as Pierre stared at Josh, clearly trying very hard not to laugh. The side of his mouth twitched. “Interesting choice of gift, you don’t think?” he asked.

Josh shrugged helplessly, his cheeks red. “It’s practical?”

November 28 (sun)

Laurel caught every Blue Jackets game she could on the TV, even the ones in early November when Pierre was out for a few games with a mild concussion. She was his wife, but she was also a nurse, and made sure to get daily updates on his condition, restraining herself from FaceTiming him to help limit his amount of daily screen time. But he had been back for a few weeks, making second star of the night with a goal and an assist, so naturally he was pulled away for a few postgame interviews.

Laurel watched the screen, trying not to get distracted by the sweat drenching his Underarmour. Reporters, the good ones at least, were usually considerate with steering clear of asking personal questions, but sometimes an injury, or the birth of a child, or, as luck would have it, a wedding, begged an answer. “So, Pierre, I think a lot of us were surprised to see you announce on Instagram that you had gotten married this summer. Congratulations, by the way,” the journalist from the Dispatch said.

“Thanks,” Pierre replied, smiling.

“And I hope I speak for everyone here when saying that we entirely respect you and your wife’s decision to keep things quiet and announce it in a much more subdued fashion than usual. Players often speak a lot about how integral support from family and friends is, and just how important it is to have that kind of a support system in place.” Pierre could see where the question was going. “Obviously you’ve got the boys down here, but it doesn’t look like your wife Laurel is based in Columbus like you are. Is there a reason for that, and do you think that’s affected your game?”

Pierre sucked in a breath; it was a fair question, and a reasonable assumption to make, but that didn’t mean he liked answering it any more. But it was almost suspicious how quickly he had an answer. “Uh, yeah, it’s been interesting for us to have to navigate. You’re right, Laurel’s back in Montréal, she spends most of her time at our place in the city. She’s a nurse in the intensive care unit of CHU Saint-Justine, so she does pediatrics there. She loves what she does, and she’s so good at it, and it just wouldn’t be right of me to ever ask or expect her to leave on my account. I know we’ve got a great hospital at Nationwide Children’s, but she loves where she is. We both do. So yeah, it’s rough being away sometimes, but luckily she’s able to move shifts around and make it down twice a month or so when we’re not on the road. But we keep in contact daily, obviously, and I’m able to lean on the guys, especially the other married ones, on how to deal with the stress of being away for so long. But it’s rough. I miss my wife,” Pierre finished.

Laurel clicked the remote, turning the TV off, her hand scratching behind Piper’s ears, and tried not to replay his words in her mind as she crawled into bed and fell asleep.

December 18 (sat)

Laurel stumbled through the door of Pierre’s Columbus apartment, laughing breathlessly as she tried to lock the deadbolt. “You need some help there, L?” Pierre asked, raising one eyebrow.

“I’m good,” Laurel said, taking two more tries before it would actually lock. The eggnog from the Christmas party was starting to take its toll; Pierre had agreed to be the pair’s designated driver for the night, so she had had maybe a glass too many. The night had genuinely been so much fun, Laurel had initially been worried at how well she might fit in with the group in a more casual situation. As much as she loved being able to hang out with the team and the other WAGs when she was in Ohio — and she did — she couldn’t help but be nervous that she didn’t have the same level of camaraderie that could help turn a night from good to great. Laurel couldn’t have been happier to be wrong. She was embraced from the moment she walked in the door, a glass of wine pushed into her hand and her Secret Santa gift deposited on the entryway table.

Laurel used to always roll her eyes at the idea that “time flies when you’re having fun,” but that couldn’t have been more true for the party. It seemed like only minutes had passed, but suddenly it was almost midnight, and the couples with kids had to head home to relieve the babysitters, and Laurel and Pierre were headed home.

“Let’s get some water in you, no?” Pierre murmured, walking to the kitchen and opening the cupboard.

“Thanks,” Laurel said softly as she took the glass from him, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet under her on the couch.

Pierre perched on the arm, absentmindedly playing with his watch. But while a tipsy Pierre was an oversharer, a tipsy Laurel was always emotional in one fashion or another. “How’d you like the party?”

“It was great,” Laurel said. “I’m not sure why Alexandre thought I’d be into a Blue Jackets scarf, but I guess it’s the thought that counts?” She pulled the offending object out of her bag, running her fingers through the fringe on the edge. “Seeing how amazing so many of those couples are, Janelle and Nick especially, it was awesome…” She trailed off. “But it was hard.”

His brow furrowed. Why would it be hard? “How so?”

“I always thought that, when I got married, it would be once and that was it.” She screwed her eyes shut. “And that’s not to mean I’m not grateful for what you’ve done, it’s so incredible and goes so far beyond just plain kindness. I just thought it would be a forever thing.”

Pierre’s heart dropped. Of course she’d feel like that. If marriage was something she wanted to take that seriously, how could she not feel like she was cheapening its meaning by treating it as nothing more than an arrangement of convenience? It wasn’t even like he felt any differently; hockey was obviously still his first priority most of the time, but he’d always seen himself as someone who wanted to settle down and have a family one day. He guessed that he just hadn’t let himself think about it. “Laurel,” he said quietly, reaching out to her. But she wasn’t done.

“It’s just,” Laurel sighed, one hand tugging on her hair, tears threatening to escape her eyes, “knowing this is all temporary. Knowing that in a couple of y-years, when I g-get my citizenship and we get d-divorced, this is all going to end,” she said, hiccuping through her words. “I won’t be able to come to your Christmas parties and fly down for games and sit up in the WAG box with my friends and that jacket and a jersey with your name on it. I won’t be able to do any of that any more because it wasn’t real, it wasn’t ever real, and that fucking kills me inside, P.” Laurel sat on the corner of the couch, a spot as precarious as the words tumbling out of her mouth.

“Why?” Pierre asked, even though if he was honest, he’d stake his career on the belief that he already knew the answer. “Why would it hurt so bad?” His voice was so quiet that if Laurel hadn’t been sitting two feet away, she wouldn’t have heard.

“Because I’m fucking in love with you,” she whispered. “And that’s the single most terrifying sentence I’ve ever said in my life.” Even though Pierre somehow knew that’s what she was going to say all along, it didn’t stop her words from stealing the breath out of his lungs. Laurel looked up at him through her tears, her eyes beginning to redden. “Say something, please, P.”

Pierre knelt in front of her, his thumb resting gently on her cheek, wiping away her tears. “God, Laur, how could I not be in love with you?” She blinked rapidly at him, trying to process the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. You’re so caring, not just for me, but for everyone in your life. You’d give a stranger the shirt off of your back. You’re probably the smartest person I know, way smarter than me.” A giggle escaped Laurel’s mouth. “The dedication you show to everything in your life is amazing. At your job, you treat every patient like they were your own sibling or your own child. You make the trip down to Columbus once a month, twice a month. That’s not easy, all the flight time and having to leave Piper and switching shifts around so we can see each other. You’re gorgeous, not just on the outside — though you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen — but the light in your eyes when you talk about a new book you read, or how happy you look when you let me taste a new recipe you’re trying, or how passionate you get when you see something wrong and know there’s something you need to do to change it. So what if we’re doing things a little backwards? First comes marriage, then comes love.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I fell in love with you awhile ago. I think it just took me a second to realize it.”

January 26 (wed)

Laurel thought the distance and space between them would be easier now that she knew how he felt, now that they both knew how they felt. She couldn’t have been more wrong. So the All-Star break, and the Blue Jackets’ bye week, couldn’t have come at a better time. Pierre had made plans for the break a few months earlier, but after everything that happened over Christmas, it didn’t seem right to ditch Laurel for a boy’s trip with Alexandre and Seth. So Hilton Head was traded in for Saint Lucia, and his teammates were traded in for his wife. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Laurel was using three of her paid vacation days and Pierre was able to make the schedule work just right to get five nights in the Carribean. “A belated honeymoon, if you will,” he had said, cracking a grin over FaceTime as they booked the flights. The flight from Columbus was much less straightforward than hers from Montréal, but by a chance airline scheduling his first layover was in Toronto. Laurel met him at the gate, hauling her own green suitcase behind her as he flung his arms around her, kissing her with everything he had in him. They may have missed the not-so-subtle fans taking pictures that later circulated around Twitter that may or may not have led to some grade A chirping in the team’s group chat. But Pierre didn’t care. He cared that for a few days, he could forget about the stress of hockey and trying to make a playoff run and all the rumors floating around and just be with his wife. And, Pierre thought as they walked through the airport door into the Carribean sun, there really wasn’t anything else he wanted.

They hailed a taxi, the twenty minute drive to their resort rushing by in a blur of palm trees and seas so blue Laurel thought she could fall into them just by looking. Pierre jogged into the main office to check them in, coming back with their key cards before the taxi continued on its way, dropping them off in front of their villa. Laurel spun slowly as they got out of the car, smiling up at the sky as Pierre pressed a few bills into the taxi driver’s hand with a nod of thanks. “You okay there?” he asked with a grin.

“It’s so warm,” Laurel said in wonderment. Even in January, the weather in Saint Lucia hovered in the mid-70s, a far cry from the twenties and teens of a Montréal winter. Laurel was no stranger to the cold — Cloquet had seen temperatures pushing thirty below when Laurel was in high school — but the idea that she could be somewhere and wear shorts while it was snowing in her hometown was a concept so novel she hadn’t quite grasped it yet.

He nodded, looking at Laurel with a gaze so soft she thought her heart would maybe burst. “We’re in the Caribbean, L. It’s warm all the time.”

She rolled her eyes, bending over to get her suitcase, but not before Pierre snatched it up himself, holding the key card between two fingers. “Are you going to just stand there, or do you want to check out our honeymoon suite?” Laurel’s words dripped with suggestiveness, her sandal-clad feet dragging their way up the path to the villa with tantalizing languor.

“Coming.”

Even after the six months of their marriage, and even after everything that happened over the holidays, they hadn’t had sex. They’d gotten close a few times, both on her trip in December and in ones since, but never managed to go all the way. First Laurel needed a new birth control prescription — the last thing she would do would be have sex without being extra safe about it — and then she was too tired after a night out, and another time Pierre had scored a hat trick and they had partied way too hard to even think about sex. So needless to say, it had been a while for Laurel since she’d gotten release by any hands other than her own, and even longer for Pierre. And it certainly wasn’t because she didn’t want to. Laurel was well aware that her husband was hot as fuck, and she’d be lying if some of her lonelier nights weren’t filled with thoughts of exactly what she wanted him to do to her. But it felt different than any of her other relationships. Obviously, it felt different, she hadn’t been married to Oliver or Ryan or Carter. And that didn’t mean she wasn’t invested in those, but just that the stakes were so much higher and she had fallen so much harder for Pierre than she ever thought imaginable. She didn’t want to have sex with him until she was sure. Sure that it was going somewhere, sure that it would last, sure that he loved her in the same way that made her heart ache every time he dropped her off at Columbus International Airport.

---

By the time they had unpacked, eaten, and gotten a few rum punches in their system, it was well past 7 and the sun had long since set. Laurel peeked out the door onto their balcony, nodding at the private plunge pool. “We’ve got quite the setup here.”

She walked over to the dresser, grabbing a swimsuit out and crossing over to the bathroom, her hand hovering over the knob. “Just something to think about.” Pierre put his swim trunks on in record time. Laurel padded out of the bathroom, the top straps of her bikini dangling, the swell of her breasts peeking above the cups. “Do me up?” she asked.

Pierre’s fingers brushed the baby hairs at the base of her neck as he tied the straps of her white-hot bikini. “Sure you don’t want to go out to the beach?”

Their villa came with a stretch of beachfront, and it seemed like such a shame to let it go to waste. Laurel shook her head, a smile playing on the edge of her lips. “We’ve got a couple of days to enjoy the beach. I’d like to stay somewhere a little more...secluded.” She bit her lip as she opened the door to the balcony, dipping her toes in the pool and sighing at the warmth of the water. Laurel looked back at Pierre, one eyebrow raised. “You coming?” Pierre couldn’t follow fast enough.

They stayed in the water for a while, lazily kissing and staring at the stars and sipping drinks that had lost their potency hours ago, but neither of them really cared much. Sometime during the night, Laurel had made her way onto Pierre’s lap, where she reached over to the balcony, lofting herself out of the pool and wrapping a scarf around her body. “Getting a little cold,” she said, bending down and giving him a soft kisss. She walked into the room, drying herself off; he followed. Laurel threw the towel over a chair in the corner of the room, walking over towards Pierre, stopping when their noses were almost touching.

Laurel’s wrap fell from her shoulders, pooling on the wood floor. Pierre’s hand skated up her arm to rest on her cheek. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She stood on her tiptoes as her left hand tangled in his hair, her right pressed against the back of his neck. She whimpered into his mouth; it took everything in Pierre’s power to keep the blood from rushing south. The kiss got more frantic, tongue and teeth clashing against each other as he walked her back to the bed. The back of her knees bumped up against the edge.

Pierre pulled away slightly, letting out a moan as he saw Laurel’s face. Her lips were puffy from kissing, her chest heaving with the force of her breath, and her wild hair had long since been taken out of its ponytail. In other words, Pierre was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Laurel, in that moment, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “You sure you want to do this?” Pierre murmured. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But he’d never do anything without making sure that she was absolutely comfortable. Laurel nodded, biting her lip. “I need to hear you say it, babe,” Pierre said, taking a step forward, their noses almost touching.

“I want you to ruin me.”

Pierre audibly groaned, capturing her lips in his before throwing her back on the bed, his hand moving to her back to undo the tie of her bikini top as his lips trailed down her neck. He threw the top off to one side, paying exactly zero attention to where it landed, as his hands slid up her waist to cup her breasts, his thumbs ghosting over her sensitive nipples. Laurel’s breath hitched in her throat. “You like that, baby?”

“Mhm,” Laurel whimpered, unable to form a complete sentence.

He smirked, lowering his mouth to her chest, flicking his tongue over her right nipple as his hand pinched her left. The air was filled with breathless sighs from them both until Pierre’s hands left her breasts. Laurel whined in protest until she felt his fingers toying with her bikini bottoms, his head lifting just enough so that his eyes could meet hers. “This okay?”

It was all Laurel could do to choke out a single word. “Please.”

Pierre pulled them down her legs, kissing down, down to her hips, down to her inner thighs, down to everywhere except for where she needed him. “You need something, Laurel?” Pierre asked, his voice dripping with sex.

Laurel groaned, not wanting to give in but also knowing that Pierre could stay where he was for hours if it meant teasing her. “Your mouth.”

“As you wish.” And then his tongue was on her, and in her, and she couldn’t help but let out a moan. And Pierre was loving every second of it. He stayed down there for a while, long enough to finish her twice.

Laurel pushed on his shoulder, trying to get him to turn on his back so she could return the favor. Pierre shook his head as he shucked his shorts off, pulling her head down to kiss her roughly. “I’m going to cum right here if I don’t get inside you in the next two minutes, babe.” He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom. “Guess I’ll have to thank Josh for these when we get back home.”

She raised one eyebrow, clearly unamused. “If you do that, I can promise you I’ll never put your dick in my mouth. Not now, not ever.”

Pierre held his hands up in surrender, the foil packet shining between two fingers. “Alright, alright. I won’t.” He paused just before bringing the wrapper up to his teeth. “You want this?”

Laurel nodded frantically as he rolled the condom down his length. He looked so hard it was painful. “So bad.” He leaned down to kiss her, propped up on one arm as he pushed into her, hair falling into his face as he closed his eyes. He was too blissed out to be able to focus on anything other than how good she felt around him, how tight and warm and how well she fit, like Laurel Elizabeth Klerken was made for him and him alone.

“More,” Laurel cried softly, and that was all it took for Pierre to grab one of her legs, throwing it around his hips as he increased his pace, head dropping to her neck as he nipped at her pulse points. It didn’t take long for Pierre to reach his high, Laurel right behind him. He pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead before getting up from the bed, going into the bathroom to tie off the condom and grab a washcloth. He cleaned up between her legs as Laurel lay there, trying to steady her breathing, absolutely spent from the night’s three orgasms. “Why didn’t we do that earlier?” Laurel murmured.

Pierre laughed, throwing the cloth in the laundry basket and tilting down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I don’t know. But it was worth it.”

February 20 (mon)

Laurel had learned early on in her relationship with Pierre that she couldn’t put much stock into what was said on Twitter. Or Instagram, or any social media for that matter. So much was speculation: about draft picks, about trade rumors, about Pierre-Luc Dubois’ secret wife, that it just wasn’t useful or healthy for her so spend much time looking around. She still had her accounts, but Instagram was the only one she went on with any regularity nowadays. And she rarely checked her phone during the work day anyways; unless it was an unusually slow day — which was never a good sign in the medical world — the only time she was even able to spare a glance was during her lunch break or when she’d run to the bathroom. So when her phone buzzed with a text from Pierre as she sat at the nurses’ station, her brow furrowed as she unlocked the screen.

Are you free right now? I need to call you.

Laurel bit her lip, nerves threatening to boil over. He knew her schedule, he knew she was at work. What could be so important that it couldn’t wait? Are you okay? Did something happen?

He typed a response as soon as her text showed as delivered. I’m not hurt, it’s not bad, really, I just need to tell you something and I don’t want to have to do it over text.

Laurel checked her watch. 11:18. It was early for a lunch break, but as long as she wasn’t needed, she could take her half hour any time between 11 and 1. She caught the eye of her charge nurse. “Claudette? I’m taking my lunch if that’s alright with you.” Claudette nodded, and Laurel quickly made her way to the locker room to grab her leftover pasta, texting Pierre on the way. Headed to the changing room now. Are you going to tell me what this is about?

Her phone rang a minute later, when she had just closed the door. She tapped the green button. “You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on here, P, because I’m kind of freaking out,” Laurel said, laughing nervously. “You don’t tell a girl what to expect, she starts assuming the worst.”

Pierre let out a heavy breath. She could imagine him running a hand through his hair on the other end. “I know, and I’m sorry if I worried you. I just needed to tell you before it breaks.”

“Before what breaks, Pierre?” Laurel’s anxiety was coming to a head.

“I’m coming home.”

Laurel screwed her eyes shut, even more confused than she was before. “Yeah, Pierre, I know you’re playing here next week. Why would that be news?”

“When’s the trade deadline, Laurel?”

“Last Monday in February, but I don’t see what that has…” She pulled the phone away from her ear, looking down at the screen, eyes locking on the date. “You got traded?”

She could imagine him sitting down on the edge of his couch, one hand dangling off the side, Georgia trying to jump up and goad him into giving her a pet or two. “They’re breaking it right before the noon deadline, but you deserved to know before everyone else did. You needed to know.”

Laurel leaned up against her locker, hand over her mouth. “You’re coming to Montréal?” She had seen it mentioned offhand on a few Twitter accounts she followed the handful of times she had logged on in the past week, but nobody thought it would actually happen. Even the concept of trading him seemed so far-fetched with the type of season he was having in Columbus. He was sitting near 30 goals and 40 assists, with one of the best plus-minus scores on the team. It just didn’t make sense.

“As of twenty minutes ago, I’m officially a Montréal Canadien,” Pierre answered.

“Oh God,” Laurel said, sympathy lacing her voice. She couldn’t let herself be excited, wouldn’t let herself be excited, until she knew exactly how Pierre felt about it. He had just been uprooted from the team that drafted him, where he’d played for four seasons and made friends and where everyone saw him as the future of the franchise.

Pierre let out a single laugh. “They let me know what the deal was, apparently Montréal really wanted me. First round pick next year, a second-year defenseman, some prospect from Laval.”

Laurel settled on the bench, tucking the phone under her chin. “Of course they really wanted you, P. You’re an incredible player, you’d be an asset to any team and you’re going to do great things in Montréal.” She paused. “But how are you feeling about the move? I know it’s not what you were expecting. Or what anyone was expecting, really.”

“It’s weird,” Pierre said after a moment. “Obviously yeah, I won’t lie, it’s a shock. But almost every player, even the really good ones, get traded at one point or another. Gretzky was traded to L.A.”

“Are you comparing yourself to Gretzky?” Laurel asked playfully.

“No,” Pierre chuckled. “But just trying to remind myself that it was almost inevitable. I’m allowed to be sad about it — and I am, it’s going to fucking suck leaving the boys — but I’m not as torn up as I thought I’d be if this ever happened.” He felt more than a little bad about it, but his first thought when his agent called and broke the news wasn’t sadness, it wasn’t despair at having to leave the team he had been brought up in and the men he considered his brothers. It was relief. Relief that he could be closer to his family, relief that he’d be back with Laurel, relief that he was going home. “And hey,” he said, catching Laurel’s attention. “You know what?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “What?”

“I don’t even have to marry someone to move.”

---

Pierre’s flight got in late Tuesday night, just after Laurel’s shift at the hospital had ended. He had said he wouldn’t mind taking an Uber home so she didn’t have to rush over and stress about traffic, but Laurel didn’t care. She wanted to be at the airport to pick up her husband, even if it meant she’d still be in her scrubs doing it.

She saw him exiting the sliding doors of the international terminal before she even turned the corner, practically slamming her car into park as soon as she hit the curb. Pierre dropped his bags when her car door opened, paying no attention to the thump of the suitcases as they hit the ground or the wandering eyes of passersby. Airports hadn’t always been his favorite place. They meant leaving the people he loved, going away from what was warm and familiar and safe. They usually meant uncertainty. But that had changed, Pierre thought, as his wife jumped into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as their lips met. Airports might just have become one of his favorite places. He pulled back from the kiss, their foreheads just barely touching. “Hi,” he said.

Laurel smiled, the kind of smile that lit up rooms and made crying babies giggle and that Pierre was pretty sure was his favorite thing he’d ever seen in the world. “Welcome home.”

#hockey imagine #pierre luc dubois #hockey smut #hockey imagines #hockey writing #hockey #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #nhl #Pierre-Luc Dubois #pierre-luc dubois imagine #columbus blue jackets

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prettyinlimegreenboots · 4 years ago

Note

“I think you might be pregnant.”

Minor cussing and some drinking in here along with hospital, IV, and blood. This is a continuation of this fic but you don’t have to read it to understand what’s going on in this.

January 21, 2020 8:00am

All was quiet in the ER that morning. Or as quiet as it could be with two gunshot victims and several heart attack patients. It had been crazy since he punched in at 5:00am for his 12 hour shift.

He threw himself into a chair and surveyed the waiting room. He was waiting for something to happen but for the moment it was temporarily calm.

He was lost in his thoughts, thinking of the dinner that Racer had promised him, when a chart was thrown on the desk with a bang. Looking up, he saw Plums standing there with an unsettling look on her face. “You alright, Plums?”

“Just felt off for a moment.” She pushed a smile to her face, sitting in a chair. “Hey, good job with that gunshot victim earlier. Not sure how but you got him calmed down.”

Spot grinned, thinking back to the first 30 minutes of his shift. “Got him talking about his daughter. Works like a charm.”

“Well I appreciate it.” Kat grinned, looking at the clock before turning to her chart.

Spot watched her. “Something’s off with you Plums. Are you doing alright?”

“I’m fine; don’t worry about me. Jack’s got all these ideas for projects this weekend and I’m a little nervous to be honest. But I’m fine.” She waved him off, as he raised an eyebrow.

“And is there a reason you’ve been in the bathroom like 6 times already this morning?” Spot picked up a pen and his own chart. “Is there something you wanna tell me?”

Her eyes went wide as her hands went to her ponytail to tighten it before giving him a look. “I didn’t know you’ve added stalker to your resume.”

“For being a doctor you’re kinda thick headed, Plums.” Spot smirked.

She turned, giving him a confused look. “Pray tell, head nurse Spottie, tell me what I’m missing.”

Leaning in close to her, he grinned before whispering. “I think you might be pregnant.”

She pushed back in her chair, eyes wide. “There’s no way.”

“Come on. There’s a way. You and Jack - trust me I know more than any brother-in-law ever wants to know.” Spot gave her a look. “You’ve got all the signs - frequent trips to the bathroom, sleepiness, fatigue, need I go on?”

Kat shook her head. “I’m not pregnant, Spot. Just drop it.”

“Just take a test. If I’m wrong, we drop it. If I’m right, we’ll celebrate.” Spot kissed her cheek. “Why are you so worked up denying this?”

She sighed, flipping the chart closed. “Just drop it. I’m off the clock. I’ll see you this weekend, love you.”

“Love you too Kat.” He gave her a look, watching her head to the locker rooms to grab her stuff. “I’ll see you this weekend.”

The day passed, with more runny noses and coughs that he wanted to see but it was quiet, thankfully. No major crises or issues walked through the doors. Looking at the clock he saw that it was just past noon. He was planning on escaping to the cafeteria to grab something to eat when the bay doors were thrown open and a gurney was wheeled in.

“What do we have boys?” He caught up with them, accepting the chart they had started before looking at the patient, eyes going wide. “Kat?”

“26 year old female; husband found her fainted and lethargic. Her husband called saying she had fainted several times, hitting her head the final time.” Spot looked at the gauze on her forehead before looking over at a worried Jack. He gave him a tight smile before looking at the paramedics.

“Let’s get her over to bed 2.” He said, pointing in the general direction.

Stopping at the desk, he gave Isabel, another nurse, a look. “Page Dr Rush and Albert. Plums is in bed 2.”

Walking over to the bed, he was met by a few nurses and an orderly. They transferred her to the bed, letting the paramedics leave. Spot looked at Jack. “Jack, talk to me. What happened?”

Jack kept an eye on the nurse as she started an IV, getting Kat hooked up to all of the monitors. Putting a hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder, Spot looked at him. “She’s going to be okay. Now I need you to tell me what happened.”

“One minute she’s telling me what a pain in the ass you are at work today. And the next she’s falling to the ground. She was so still, Spot. She didn’t move for a minute or two while I called 9-1-1.” Jack cried as Dr Rush and Albert showed up.

Albert looked between Jack and Spot before nodding at them. Dr Peter Rush sighed. “Didn’t we just kick you to the curb, Plums?”

“Missed it too much. Had to come check up on all of you.” She grinned. “I’m fine you guys. It’s just a little head wound.”

Dr Rush stepped up to the bed and looked her over. “Albert, would you take Jack to the waiting room? We’re going to do some tests and you can come back in.”

Jack shook his head, giving Spot a pleading look. “I’ll come get you when we’re done, I promise.”

Letting Albert guide him, Jack sighed loudly. “Love you, Kat.”

“Love you too Jack. Go I’ll be fine. Call your brother.” She gave him a look, watching him walk away before looking at the two men in front of her. “Spot don’t start. Order a full blood work panel and see what’s up. Also, just stitch me up.”

Dr Rush chuckled. “She self diagnosed herself . . . why was I paged?”

“Possible concussion and because she’s a stubborn little thing and I needed someone to look at her.” Spot chuckled. “Anything else?”

Looking at Kat, Dr Rush gave her a look. “What year is it?”

“2020.” She grinned.

“And what day of the week is it?” He asked.

“Tuesday.”

“And what’s your puppy’s name?”

Kat grinned. “Basil.”

“I want a CT scan, I want to know why she’s fainting. I don’t think she has a concussion.” He handed her chart to Spot. “Let me know what you find out. Kat, take it easy; try to sleep some while you’re here. Let us run tests and we’ll see what’s going on.”

Waiting until he left, Spot gave her a look before drawing blood. “Did you take a test?”

Swatting him, she shook her head. “No but knowing you, you’re gonna run one. Put a rush on those, please?”

“Will do. You scared Jack.” He said, flicking the test tube a bit to ensure all the bubbles were out of it before putting a barcode on it. He would deliver the blood to the lab himself. “Do you need anything?”

She sighed, pushing herself up in the bed. “I know I scared Jack - one minute I’m complaining about you and the next I'm on the floor with his mug hovering over me. Can I have some water? Can you grab Jack?”

“I’ll have Al bring you some water. Anything to eat? And yes, I’ll grab Jack as I head to the lab.” He promised, patting her leg. “You’re going to be fine. We’ll figure this out.”

Kat smiled, biting her lip. “I had lunch. Thank you for everything, Spot.”

Spot patted her shoulder before giving her cheek a kiss. “Rest. I’ll send Jack and Al back here. Love you.”

“Love you to, Spot.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

He nodded, stepping out closing the curtain behind him before heading to the waiting room. Spot quickly found Jack sitting there with Racer beside him. They both stood as he approached. “How is she?”

“She’s good. She’s hooked up to an IV getting some fluids. We took blood work and I’ll bring it up to the lab. She’s going to be getting stitches and a CT scan and will know more in a bit.” Spot smiled at the two. “You guys can come back and sit with her if you want, until we take her up for the scan.”

They both nodded and followed him through the maze of the ER. He stopped at the desk and grinned at Al. “Hey can you come stitch up Plums? And grab her some water.”

“Sure. Thought you’d want to do that?” Al grinned, looking between Spot and the two behind him.

Fishing in his scrubs pocket, he pulled out the vial of blood. “Gotta take this to the labs. I’ll meet you guys by Kat in a bit.”

Tugging on Race’s hand, he pulled him closer. “Hi love. I’m sorry it’s so chaotic but I’m glad you’re here for Jack.”

“Hi yourself.” Race grinned, leaning over and kissing him. “Go be the hero and save the day. I’ll see you in a bit.”

With a pep in his step, Spot gave him a look before heading towards the elevator. Tapping his foot, he took a moment to inhale a deep breath before exhaling. He hoped the vial of blood would clue them in on what’s going on, though he had a pretty good feeling.

Walking into the lab, he grinned seeing Elmer standing there. “Hey man is there any way you can rush this and run this while I wait?”

Elmer gave Spot a look. “It’ll cost you.”

“Whatever it takes. I just need this done. Order should be in your inbox.” Spot handed over the vial, leaning against the wall, taking out his cell phone.

A quietness descended on the two. Spot took that time to flip through the texts he had received, most of them from Race trying to figure out what was going on with Kat. He sent Race a text to see how Kat was doing and glanced up at Elmer. “How’s your day been?”

“Busy. Y’all couldn’t have a quiet day in the ER could you?” Elmer gave him a look grinning.

Spot chuckled. “Never. But it’s been quieter than the last few days, knock on wood.”

Elmer laughed, shaking his head. “Glad you’re in the mayhem and I’m not. Alright, the tests will be in the patient's file by the time you get back downstairs.”

“Thank you! I owe you.” Spot clapped his hands, heading towards the elevator, pressing the down button.

Stepping off the elevator, he headed to the desk, pulling up Plums’ chart before reading the labs. His eyes widened at the one result, a grin pushing through his lips. Logging off the computer, he headed back to her bed. “Oh thank god you’re back.”

“What’s wrong?” He asked, looking between Jack and Race who both had grins, Albert who was frozen halfway between the bed and the curtain and Kat who just looked half asleep.

“These two are trying to convince Al to put purple or green stitches in. They think they’re funny but they’re not.” She rolled her eyes, hand flying to her head with a groan. “Can you stop them?”

Spot gave his husband and brother-in-law a look, pointing at them. “Al go check up on status for a CT, you two sit there and touch nothing.”

Walking to a drawer, he grabbed a few things, looking at Kat. “Did he numb you up yet?”

“No. He was too busy being egged on by these two.” Kat gave him a look. “Can you assign him flu cases for the next week?”

Spot grinned. “Shhh that’s our secret. How are you feeling?”

“Slight headache and just tired.” She gave him a faint smile as he prepped to stitch her up.

“Race, don't look at Kat. Keep your eyes away from her.” Spot said, glancing over his shoulder. “Just a few more Kat.”

Snipping the thread, he threw everything just as Al came back in. “They can take her now if you’re ready.”

“You two will have to wait in the waiting room.” Spot gave Jack and Race a look as Jack started to protest. “She’s going to be upstairs, running tests. You’ll be bored so we’ll come get you once she’s back.”

“Is she going to have to stay overnight?” Jack asked, standing.

Spot shrugged. “Probably not but we’ll know more after the CT scan. Don’t panic - this is routine and normal. She’s okay, Jack.”

Kat grinned at her husband and brother as they both gave her kisses. Al and Spot transferred her upstairs, Al leaving them at radiology. “So what did my labs say?”

“You owe me.” Spot looked at her. “You’re pregnant.”

Tears clouded her eyes, as she shook her head. “Really?”

“Yup.” Spot nodded. “We can do an ultrasound if you want when you go back down.”

She chuckled. “Not exactly how I wanted Jack to find out or you and Racer.”

“But it’s kinda perfect.” Spot grinned.

She nodded, folding her hands over her stomach. “Can we not tell Jack? I will, I just want him not to find out with the hubble babloo of the ER.”

“Let me talk to Rush and we’ll see what we can do.” Spot grinned. “Now let’s get this CT scan done and we can get you out of here.”

He sent a text to Rush with Kat’s request and waited in the hall until she was done. Blink quickly read the report and didn’t see anything abnormal which they expected. Pushing her back downstairs, Spot put her back in her bed before going to find Race and Jack. “She’s back in bed. I’ll have Dr Rush come in and she should be released soon.”

“Spot, give it to me straight. Is she okay?” Jack stopped him before he started to head to the back.

He bit his lip, looking between Race and Jack. “She’s going to be okay, Jack. Dr Rush wants to look at everything before coming to talk to you guys, okay?”

Jack nodded, following Spot to the back. Race followed them, but held back as Jack went to see Kat. “You’re lying.”

“Am not.” Spot gave his husband a look. “And since when do you know all medical things?”

Race grinned. “You biting your lip is a tell. You know something.”

“Even if I knew something, I couldn’t tell you because of confidentiality.” Spot gave him a look. “Besides if they want you to know, you’ll know.”

Race’s eyes lit up. “So you do know something. Spottie . . .”

“No, Racetrack. Go in and check on Kat.” Spot pushed him towards the curtain, giving him a pointed look. “I’ve got to get the doctor then I’ll be in. Don’t be a nuisance.”

Spot watched him disappear behind the curtain before heading to the nurse’s station. He saw Dr Rush standing there and slided up beside him. “Did you see Kat’s labs?”

“I was just looking at them. Now what does she want to do?” Rush looked at him, flipping through the labs.

Spot grinned. “She doesn’t want us to tell them about the lab results. So I was thinking we tell them she was dehydrated and she needs to push fluids for the next couple of hours.”

Dr Rush nodded, motioning him towards Kat’s curtain. Spot walked behind him, pulling the curtain closed behind him.

They stepped in and all eyes turned to them. “We have your results. Looks like you’re dehydrated but everything looks good. I would suggest taking it easy for the next couple of days and push fluids - water and juice. Skip the alcohol.”

Jack leaned over and kissed Kat’s forehead with a strangled chuckled. He closed his eyes, continuing to kiss her forehead. “Any questions?”

Kat laughed, shaking her head. “I think we’re all set. When can I leave?”

“As soon as Spot writes up the discharge papers.” Rush gave them all a look before stepping out of the curtain. Spot looked at the pure excitement in the room and the relief on Jack’s face. “Kat, do you need anything?”

She looked at Race and Jack who were both grinning brightly at her, a weight lifted from their shoulders at their wife and sister being alright. “Nah I think I’m alright. Just get the papers ready?”

“I’ll get them ready.” Spot chuckled. “How are you getting home?”

Race raised his hand. “I told them I would take them home since Jack rode in the ambulance with them.”

Nodding, Spot left the area, heading over to the nurse’s desk to start the paperwork. Spot logged into the computer, reviewing his notes before typing them up. Finishing them up, he quickly printed them off. Grabbing that and a prescription that printed off, he headed back to Kat’s area.

“Basically, keep hydrated, rest, don’t do anything dumb.” Spot gave Jack the paperwork, giving him a look. “Keep her calm, even though she doesn’t have a concussion, she might have a hell of a headache. Let me know if you have any questions.”

Jack nodded, giving him a look. “Thank you Spot. I’ll text you if I have any questions.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He gave Kat a look. “Let Jack wait on you hand and foot. No Dr Plums today . . . it’s just Katherine for the day. Go watch all those Hallmark movies you love and cuddle Basil.”

He started taking the wires and IV out before giving her a look. “Do you need anything before you go?”

She shook her head as Albert came up with a wheelchair, before helping her into the wheelchair. Patting Jack’s back, Spot watched them walk out of the area with a smile on his face. He just hoped that Kat would tell him sooner rather than later.

Race caught him as he walked out of the area. “Hey, what time will you be home tonight?”

“Around 5. You still making dinner?” Spot asked, giving his hand a squeeze.

Race nodded. “Pasta, right or do you want something else?”

“Kind of craving homemade pizza.” Spot grinned. “I’ll see you at home, I love you.”

“Love you too. Have a good rest of your shift.” Race kissed him, waving goodbye before heading out of the emergency room.

Going back to the desk, he collapsed in the chair, rubbing his hand over his face with a loud sigh. Closing his eyes for a moment, he listened to the noises around him. He heard the chair next to him slide across the floor, as he peaked an eye open. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m doing as well as I can be right now.” Spot sighed. “Got another two hours before I’m done and all I want is a bed for a nap. How are you doing? Ready for all the incoming flu cases coming your way?”

Albert threw his head back, groaning. “Ha you’re funny. I’m fine. I wasn’t in the room all that much but it seems as if Kat’s alright - just dehydrated from what I saw.”

Spot nodded, grinning. “I’m sure Jack will be the perfect nurse for him.”

The next two hours passed by without an issue, a few simple cuts and bruises and an arm that needed to be set. He quickly grabbed his stuff before clocking out and heading home. He sighed, getting into the car, starting to head home.

He was looking forward to laying on the couch with Sassie, their dog, and looking forward to whatever kind of pizza Race was making that night. Pulling into their driveway, he quickly got out before slamming the car door behind him. Walking up the sidewalk, he pushed open the door, inhaling deeply, sighing in content at the spiciness in the house.

“Honey I’m home.” He tiredly called, dropping his bag and kicking off his shoes. “And it’s been a hell of a day.”

Race poked his head out of the kitchen while Sassie made her way over to him. He patted her a few times, before leaning over and kissing Race. “I love you. It was good to have you in the emergency room and not be the patient.”

“I love you too and you’re not funny.” Race rolled his eyes, walking into the kitchen. “I have a beer open and ready for you.”

Quickly changing into sweatpants and a hoodie, he sat at the kitchen table and watched Race finish up dinner. He relaxed in the chair and listened to Race prattle on about anything and everything. As they were finishing up dinner, both of their cell phones chirped with a text message. “OH HELL YES!”

Race did a weird jig in the middle of the kitchen, with the biggest grin on his face. Spot gave him a look. “What?”

“WE’RE GONNA BE UNCLES, SPOTTIE!!!!” Race yelled, continuing his jig. “Jack just texted the news.”

Spot grinned, shaking his head, standing up and joining him in his awkward jig. The secret would stay with him now. In this moment, he would jig with his husband and celebrate the happy news.

There’s almost 3500 words of another emergency room fic featuring doc Kat and nurse Spottie. Hope you all enjoyed it. Let me know what you think!

#Newsies #Newsies Fan Fiction #writing #ask #drabble prompt #newsies drabble #jack kelly x katherine plumber #Katherine Plumber #Jack Kelly #Racetrack Higgins #spot conlon #Katherine is a Doctor and Spot is a Nurse #Life In The ER Newsies Series

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