#same woman who's always saying how much she hates therapists because they ''will say whatever and pretend they know shit''

[sherlock-is-ace]

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[topazadine]

Remembering Perspective When Writing Descriptions

Just a short pet peeve of mine, inspired by a shower thought, where I remembered the most terrifying description I'd ever read.

It wasn't bad, or even horror. It was well written.

However. The POV character described his *sister* in a way akin to this (my recreation, not the actual text):

Braden met his sister at the gate. They'd been apart for several years, and in that time, she had truly become a woman. Her curves had filled out, and her red silk dressed strained across her tight figure. Her long black curly hair shone in the late evening light, while her blue eyes watched him intently.

No, this wasn't a brocon thing. The (male) writer was just horny for his female character and ... kinda forgot that his MC, her brother, would not feel the same way.

Now, of course siblings growing up together are going to notice the other one maturing, but it's not going to be ... that. This is how I describe 17-year-old Uileac looking at his little sister, 13-year-old Cerie, in 9 Years Yearning:

She'd shot up in height this past year - almost as tall as him, to his dismay. Whatever they were feeding her in the meronym was quite good for her metabolism, as she'd put on a bit of healthy weight. Her cheeks were losing their baby roundness, and the autumnal light accentuated the sharp intelligence behind her green eyes.

In this description, you can feel Uileac's paternal attitude toward his little sister. "Oh, she's put on a bit of weight and isn't a total twig anymore! I'm glad they're feeding her well. Her face looks more adult. Fuck, she's almost as tall as me now ... I wish I weren't so goddamn short ...."

This is a much more normal way for siblings to talk about each other, if a bit more "dad mode" than the typical older brother.

Siblings who grew up together are not going to say "holy shit I can really tell my sister has become a woman, wow her dress is tight over her curves." If my brother had said that about me while we were kids, I'd throw up and dump a pot of soup over his head.

This kind of thing is generally accidental and has to do with how *you* feel about a character. But the thing is that even the sexiest femme fatale is just going to be Jennifer, The Stupid Annoying Sister, to their sibling. Our brains are literally wired not to see our siblings as sexy if we grew up with them.

There are many other ways that you must take perspective into consideration when writing descriptions. Here are just a few of them.

Sexual attraction/orientation

You're going to focus on different things if you're sexually attracted to someone; namely, you'll focus in on things like breasts, legs, abs, etc. You'll also likely devote more attention to describing people of your particular sexual orientation than you would one that you are not attracted to, and you will focus on different things.

This is part of why we hate "men writing women:" they describe every woman as if they want to fuck them. (See the first example.) It has to do with the places that their gazes naturally linger on any woman, which is what they consider important and what they focus on.

But the thing that they miss is that just because we are sexually attracted to a specific gender does not mean we would want to bang anyone of that gender. I am a lesbian, but the way I would describe my mom or my therapist is vastly different than how I would describe a woman I am actually attracted to.

Romantic interests should get a more sexualized gaze; not exploitative, just more in-depth, and with more focus on their figure, specific details, etc. Everyone else should get a more basic look at eyes, hair color, height, build, and so on.

Feelings about a particular person

You're going to be more forgiving and complimentary toward someone you care about than someone you hate. Things that would be charming on a friend will be downright annoying on that one asshole at work who always throws projects to you at 5pm on a Friday.

A lover's thick eyebrows might be called "dashing" or "strong," while on an enemy, they'd be "overbearing" and "harsh." Your bestie's lisp is cute, while it seems babyish on your school rival. Your dad's meandering sentences give him a sense of harmless musing, but they make someone else look like an idiot.

If you have a character that is prejudiced toward a given group, they are always going to describe that group more harshly than they would a favored group. If they don't like authority figures, a police officer leaning toward them will seem menacing, when they wouldn't even notice it otherwise.

It can be very fun to give two characters similar traits but describe them differently based on the POV character's perspective of them. Readers might not even realize that it's the exact same physical feature!

Previous experiences at a given place

When describing settings, we're going to give more attention to somewhere we care about, like our home. I imagine you can tell me about every chip in the paint in your bedroom, or that one weird stain in the floorboard that you've tried everything to fix. Many times, this is a good time to add depth to the character's backstory by briefly mentioning previous occurrences there.

Would you notice any of those things about a place you're visiting for the first time? Probably not. You'll give a more global attention to the scene and provide impressions, not specifics.

Depending on how nervous or adventurous you are, you'll look for similarities or differences to things that you're accustomed to. You might compare it to other places you have been, trying to get a frame of reference.

If you're on a vacation and were really looking forward to coming to this specific spot, you will likely hone in on exactly what you came to see, whether that's the scene from a particular hilltop or a cafe, and this will get the most description.

Current Mood

Descriptions change with a character's mood, even if they've been in that place a millions times. People just notice different things depending on their mood; if they're happy, they'll look for things that support that mood, while if they're upset, they're pointing out the negatives.

For example, consider someone walking into a court room when they are on trial versus when they are there as a simple court reporter. The person on trial is probably going to be glancing longingly at the door, picking out the angry faces of observers (or assuming the observers are angry), focusing attention on the security guards, staring at the plaintiff with hate in their eyes.

The court reporter will likely pick out anyone they know in the room before looking at anything else. Then, they'll check out the defendant and plaintiff with idle curiosity. Since they are more familiar with the room, they'll gloss over the boring details that they have already seen a million times, giving them only a cursory once-over to see if anything has changed.

Current Need

Your character's objectives need to taken into consideration as well. As an example, remember the last time that you really needed to pee while you were out. Were you slowly and casually admiring the scenery? No! You were hunting for the bathroom. If literally anything registered for you, it was anything that looked vaguely bathroom-sign-shaped. Everything around that bathroom sign, and on your path toward the bathroom, got more attention and description to you than anything else.

Your character's interests

When describing a scene, you don't need to take time and define every single little thing in a character's path. It's annoying and overwhelming. You need to give us a basic overview (it's a forest, it's a grocery store, it's an abbatoir) and then hone in on the specific details that your character finds interesting in order to fill out the entire scene.

We, as people, focus on things we care about, things that we feel are relevant to us. Different people will notice completely different things when they walk into the same room. An animal trainer will appreciate a big pet bed and an ergonomic food bowl. An artist will admire the artwork on the walls. A computer nerd is going to roll their eyes at the scuffed-up Mac laptop.

This doesn't mean that you can't describe other things, too; it just means that your character's attention is going to be drawn to stuff that they, in particular, like or dislike.

Things like where a character's gaze lands, how they describe things, and how much detail they give to any particular element are an important part of secondary characterization: how we get to know a character beyond what they do or tell us. It helps to create a fuller picture of their relationships, their interests, and their thought process, and it deserves just as much attention as actions and dialogue.

If you enjoyed reading this, perhaps you'll consider purchasing my book, 9 Years Yearning. No weird sibling vibes I prommie

[youtubeyouniversitytherapy]

#1 Check in // July'24 - F1nn

Finn didn’t mind therapy. He was surprised so many of his peers found it to be the worst torture this place could inflict on them. It was just therapy! He doesn’t mind. His therapist was nice and they helped her keep up with his HRT…

Dean Tat was patient and tolerant, and she helped them find words he didn’t know where to even start looking for them. She has her happy little hour every week to talk to the therapist about whatever she wants. A captive audience to whatever info she had to dump. Every thought she had held back, jokes she couldn’t say to certain people. She could package them up and save them for these weekly talks. Get it out and have a good laugh with her. It was very cleansing. 

“I love hearing you had fun with your friends this week, Finn.” She looks at her with a smile and gives a little nod before she goes on. “I know you have quite a few we talk about often, but what about the new students? Have you been… welcoming to them.”

“Of course I have! I love the new girls. Jaiden has always been cool but Tara, the new Alpha, she’s…” He trails off feeling his face go hot and adjusting so he sat up straighter, pushing his hair back from his face. “She has been very nice, which I’m glad because new girls in the house can be very scary.” He makes a face but purses his lips and looks to Tat, who is reading a note she wrote earlier. 

“Does it worry you more that new women enter the house than new men?” She asks looking back to them.

“Yeah, I guess. When girls are mean it hurts way more.” 

“Is it because it feels like the rejection is more personal?”

“Maybe. They just know how to hit where it hurts in a way guys don’t unless they really know you.”

“Does it have anything to do with the fear they’ll reject you as a woman?” Finn looks at her like he didn’t know who he was talking to all of a sudden like his real therapist had just burst in the door to tell him she was an imposter. “You’ve expressed you concern about not being seen as a girl.”“Seen as a girl, seen as one, not- not accepted as a woman. That’s different- thats-!” Dean Tat puts up a gentle hand as a quiet apology and it is quick to calm Finn down.

“I’m sorry to misunderstand.” She looks at them like she was calming a startled animal. “I’m trying to understand you the same way you are trying to understand yourself, but I have much less information than you.” She gives a sympathetic smile and Finn gives a nod. “With that said we’re coming to the end of our session and I’d like to ask you something we went over before but in case the answer has changed I’d like to present it, is that okay?”

“Yeah sure.” They shrug and sit forward, ready to get up and leave. This week has suddenly become a lot heavier than usual. 

“Most of your peers and teachers call you Rose, would you like us to also call you Rose? It would be no inconvenience.” She assures him but is met with a disgruntled expression and a shaking head. 

“Ew, I’d hate that.” He dismisses it and stands but shows that he wasn’t bothered with a chuckle and smile. “It be so weird don’t you think? I’m still Finn, you all know me.” He gives a shrug. “I don’t need people who know me to call me anything different. It wigs me out.” 

“Do your peers and teachers not know you?” 

Finn freezes and sits back down for a second, then immediately stands back up. 

“I’m not ready to talk about that yet.” He squeaks out and gives a polite nod before getting up and head to the door. “See you next week, Dean Tat.” He hears her slightly disappointed sigh but nods sympathetically as she gives a wave. 

“See you next week, Finn.”

[tojikai]

OH GOD KAI… (sorry in advance for the thesis that is this message)

I know that Satoru always plays it safe with condoms/plan B but birth control isn’t 100% 😭 she could still be pregnant 😭

I’m going to find comfort in the fact that Satoru probably would’ve had a more emotional reaction on the spot if Naomi was pregnant. (I’m coping so hard right now) I’m hoping that Satoru finally cuts his mother out for good and let’s his father know how fucking disgusting she is.

I can’t imagine what Satoru was thinking. The woman that raised him using him as a security blanket for her own selfishness and then the woman he thought he could have a companion in proving that she’ll do whatever it takes to tie him to her even if it’s not what he wants. aside from himself… who does he really have as a support system? he has his therapist yeah, but that’s not the same as having your person. my heart definitely goes out to him.

What the fuck was Naomi calling his mom for??? “Hey I tried to r*pe your son and it didn’t work and he’s really angry what do we do now?” YOU made the decision to follow through with it knowing damn well he doesn’t love you, you own it. don’t try to blame literally everyone else for your cruel actions because no one forced her to do anything. she made the decision to take the decision away from satoru and for that, she’s scum 🤷🏽‍♀️

i sincerely hope Satoru does put Naomi behind bars… and his mom, or at least gets a restraining order on the two of them. they’re horrible people worth less than the ground they walk on and i hope satoru’s dad lets him rain hell on them two.

now toji… i’m happy they’re both open about not being each others first choices but that’s Yui’s dad. he has every right to be uncomfortable with the fact that Satoru has openly confessed his love for y/n but i hate that he invalidated her feelings of being uncomfortable and told her to get over it when it came to a pet name she didn’t wanna be called. y/n even said it’s not the fact that he talks about his late wife in general, it’s about HOW he makes her feel when he does mention her. there’s a big difference because he only does it in a way that compares the two. and then weaponizing her pain to drive home his point??? that’s definitely not cool.

it’s safe to say the honeymoon period is over and now they’re going to be dealing with the baggage of their past relationships. satoru is always going to be a presence in their lives and so will megumi’s mother (through toji’s words) whether they like it or not. i kind of hate that satoru is willing to give up time with his daughter to make sure toji doesn’t get upset (don’t punish yui 😭) communication is going to be key and they’re going to need to see if they want to work through it because love isn’t enough sometimes.

i wonder what y/n would do if satoru told her what naomi and his mother tried to do… i think she probably should know since it involves yui’s grandmother and who knows what that crazy bitch will do (to yui) to keep satoru. personally, i think that y/n should beat the shit out of her, for EVERYTHING that woman has done. to y/n, to satoru, to yui, to satoru’s dad? i know for a fact she wouldn’t let him deal with everything alone if she found out and part of me hopes they can rely on each other for this.

i’m still hoping for a gojo endgame with a reunited family myself, but i mostly just want everyone to be at peace regardless of what happens 😭 i think satoru has shown actual progress and willingness to ensure y/n and yui’s happiness at the cost of his own and i’d love to see them reunite and get through this stronger than ever 🥹

you killed it again kai! i have so many emotions and thoughts and i can’t wait to see what happens next. thank you for sharing your work and i hope you have a fantastic week! much love 🥰

OMGGGG i enjoyed reading this a lot !! esp. the part where you pointed out how yn's problem was not just toji mentioning his late wife. but rather, how it makes her feel. it wasn't a surprise to her that he'd talk about her at times since she knows about his past, what made yn sad was how it seems like he was trying to tell her to do what she does. that's why she said she felt like a 'placeholder.' :'(( and yeah, the betrayal satoru felt when he found out how his mom spoke w naomi abt it is just too much, and the fact that he has to bear it by himself too :((( as for him giving up their time together w Yui so as to not upset toji, does not only show selflessness but also his hopelessness. he's thinking abt long term, like the school events thing mentioned, which implies that he really thinks that he's got no chance w yn anymore yet he's still trying to make it all up to her 🥹 i feel like satoru's been through too much during these past few chapters😭 anyways, thank you much for sharing your thoughts and for your support <33 it took a bit for me to respond to asks, but i hope you're doing well~ take care !!

[astridthevalkyrie]

trauma dump so my dad and i work in the same company right. he sits about twenty feet away from me (yeah it's fantastic i don't wanna jump out the window somtimes at all) but anyways today he comes over to my desk and in english and loud enough that my colleagues could hear he's like "your shower is clogged you need to fix it!" and a. my sisters and i have been telling him this for weeks so the fact that he is acting like he didn't know shows how little he actually listens to us and b. he only knows now bc since her bathroom is being painted my mother took a shower in ours and inconveniences only matter when it's inconveniences for them and c. he could have said this QUIETLY or in URDU and it would be fine but no apparently asking for respect in the workspace is too much to ask for so i told him "can you be a little less condescending about it?" and he got even more peeved and said he wasn't being condescending and was just telling me to clean out the clog (something i didn't even realize i could do like i didn't know i could lift the thing in the shower bc it looks screwed on and he's never told me this before) so i was like "okay whatever" and he walked away and i KNOW at least one of my colleagues overheard bc he joked something like "that sounded serious" so um. and yesterday my mom randomly got pissed at my sister and told me to stop teaching her to blame everything on my mother and i didn't wanna fight so i just said kay and tried to keep the mood positive with my mother because who am i if i'm not playing emotional support eldest daughter all the time and my dad heard the sound of conflict and went into the basement like the bystander and enabler he is!! anyways i have started another keigo fic that will most likely flop as well but idc because i'm having fun writing for him but i'm not having fun at home and i still lack the energy to find a therapist especially bc i know i'd have to pay for it out of pocket and i'd hear it from my parents (SEPARATELY ffs) that they don't think i need therapy but my sister has had trichotillomania for years and they're only now kinda seriously registering her into therapy after being told my several different doctors to do that because she has a fucking ANXIOUS TICK and they just don't see the correlation they don't see why she would have that and my mom keeps calling her crazy as though the woman doesn't have a barrage of mental health issues that she just refuses to address she has a therapist that she chooses not to talk to she takes depression pills she has meltdowns but it's oooover the second anyone else feels an emotion and now (and always) i'm being told that i'm teaching my sister to hate her and disobey her like BABE!!!! you are UNLIKEABLE and there is a reason no one in the house wants to spend time with you!!!! i'm already in this one stupid class that my parents pushed me into that i don't wanna get into but it's so annoying bc it takes up at least two hours aside from my 7:30 to 5 pm shift which if i go into office means i have to catch a 6 am train and be back at like 6:30 pm so i always push myself to stay up as late as i can to get some alone time where i can relax and then i wake up miserable and i push goals for myself to eat healthier and exercise bc i've gained weight even though everyone says i look like i don't eat (i don't) my mom will just randomly make a comment like "i can see your stomach poking out" or some SHIT like that and she's constantly trying to get me to drink her goddamn disgusting homemade mint water that will make my skin clearer and brighter but i like my brown skin and i'm not SELF HATING like some people! and she keeps bugging me to text the lady from this matchmaking service she enrolled me into but i do not WANT to because none of those men will like me because i god forbid put in my bio that i have ideals that i will not budge from and that i am a feminist and i need someone who will respect that i'm allowed to have as much freedom as them and desi men can't stomach that shit so. and my grandma uncle and his two kids are visiting this

(hit the character block limit) weekend and i have to make it into a fun game for my sister to always be around him and interact with everyone bc if me or her try to refill our social batteries in our rooms or interact with EACH OTHER instead of everyone else my mother will think it's the equivalent of stripping naked in front of everyone despite how she embarrasses us every fucking CHANCE she gets especially around her family and my grandma is back to living with us for at least a few months after this which means she'll sleep in my bed which means she'll use my pillows and take up half the bed and every time this happens my CHRONIC BACK PAIN FORGOT ABOUT THAT acts up more than usual so i'm considering sleeping downstairs but i tend to get anxious when i do that i'm just hoping it doesn't happen this time bc i'd rather be depressed as shit instead of anxious and anxiety scares me so bad i get into my own head so easily and i hate taking meds apparently i need vitamin d pills for the rest of my life and taking them makes me feel sick and i don't drink water no matter how hard i try bc the more i drink the more sick i feel and sometimes i go days without drinking water and sometimes i don't eat and sometimes i'm starving but after a single bite i'm full and somehow i'm still gaining weight and i can't expect anyone to care about this constantly because i'm no one's goddamn concern or burden anyways today i'm feeling really introspective and i want to sit with my feelings for a bit but i can't because once i get home (in the train right now) i have to have a one on one meeting with my course instructor and i miss acting but at the same time every time i think of it i think of that horrible incident a few months ago where i agreed to be in the ensemble of wizard of oz and the experience was so bad and the people were so awful and i was the only woc there and they treated me like dirt under their shoe and every time we had a show to put on i felt ill from how miserable i was and now i'm scared all my acting experiences will all be like this and i'm so tired i want to be held and comforted and i want someone to allow me to cry without telling me to cheer up and i want to stop being so nervous every time i meet someone new and i want my skin to be clearer and i want to be healthier and i want my mother to stop abusing me and i want to just sleep in for a whole day and have no one bother me and i want to answer all these asks in my inbox because some are more than a year old and i feel so bad and i go back to school in the fall and i'll be working full time and i can't even say well i guess i had a good break year because i didn't i was working the whole time and i'm almost always around one parent and i want to write without my wrists feeling pain and i want everyone to leave me alone.

[oh-my-damn]

I’m the same....re: no kids/heavy breeding kink.

I’m a no on kids for myself for a variety of reasons: don’t want to bring life into this kind of world (climate change), feel a type of way about my own ability to parent (have some mental illness stuff which can make life really difficult for me without children).

I’m not anti-kids wholly, but as of right now (I’m 33) I don’t see myself having or wanting kids.

But boy do I love love love reading breeding kink in my fics. It makes my brain go HNNNNG.

I’m sure a therapist would go mad with it, but it’s probably a lot more common than we think. Probably something to do with being able to indulge in a non consequential way in something we absolutely don’t want in real life, blah blah blah.

LMAO yeah I'm never mentioning this to a therapist or psychology major skjsksks

Will be putting the rest under a cut bc I don't mean to offend anyone, this is merely my opinion and perception on certain matters. I am also not saying everyone is like this or should feel like this, these are some of my experiences with certain types of parents and life as someone who has never wanted kids.

Honestly I'm just not that.... excited, by kids. There was a baby in the row ahead of us on the 11 hour flight back from Cali. Not a mood. Not a vibe.

I rolled my eyes the second I noticed bc that is just my luck, to be placed behind a baby on a long distance flight. In my opinion (this is my opinion, and not everyone has to agree) I think you shouldnt bring a baby on a plane. It's just a hassle, not just to the parents, and the baby, but also to everyone on that flight. I understand emergencies, but tbh, we all know that's rarely why it happens.

I remember a huge commotion going on once because of people saying they should offer child-less flights. I think it's a good idea; and yes, I am speaking as a person who does not have children. But I also don't like them particularly. I like a select few within my immediate family (and sometimes, I don't even like them very much because kids can absolutely be assholes sometimes because they don't know any better) but I don't have to like a strangers child. I hate that society tells us to always be nice to kids because some of them are assholes and annoying?? Just like people can be??? And I don't have to be nice, or not swear, just because some stranger and their kid is in the vicinity?? I'm not raising your child, I don't have to do shit.

And to be frank, I didn't choose to have a child or to bring them on a plane so why should I have to suffer through 11 hours of it? You chose to have it and bring it, you should suffer for it. But I didn't. I paid a lot of money and I am exhausted and it's honestly not fair or cool.

And I agree with not wanting to bring a child into this very dark future ahead of us. I am one of the "crazy people" who actually have a contingency plan for whatever disaster happens. I even have one for zombies and a different one for an alien attack. I don't have a bunker or anything like that, but I have a gameplan that I have informed my best friend about and although she thinks I'm ridiculous, she knows it by heart. We even talked about it when Covid first hit lmao.

Idk, I just feel like some people who have kids can also be very preachy about how hard it is but also about how it's the greatest love in the world. I've heard the "you'll change your mind" speech over and over again. But I've never wanted them. I've also never fantasized about my wedding. Or about a family. I'm just not like that, I'm not into it.

I've fantasized about going to court and putting bad people behind bars. Solving murder cases. It was just all I really wanted, you know? Never a family or kids.

My mom was a career woman herself and she does have kids (obvi) so I would hope to be like her if I ever did decide to have children. She managed to balance decently, although it was never perfect, but I love my mom wholeheartedly now and we have an amazing relationship.

All in all, I just don't find kids cute, or fascinating. I don't want to coo at them. I don't think they're all adorable (actually, most of them are ugly but I will admit that some can tug at my heartstrings. Rarely, though).

And I don't like those certain parents (like the ones I've seen on tiktok) who preach about how "grown people shouldn't go to disney bc it's for kids" or how "people with kids should be able to skip the line" or how "having kids is the hardest thing in the world". Fuck that. Having kids is hard, yes, absolutely. But we have people out here doing double shifts in hospitals, picking bodies off the road. Everyone can have children. You don't need an education or license for it. It's not the hardest, that's just not how it works (although I know circumstances are different for everyone. For me specifically I'm talking about a very niche group of parents who try to berate people who say they don't want kids and who try to appear as better than others because they have children)

I am very much pro-choice as well so I am obviously talking about people who chose to have them (pls don't turn any of this into a discussion about that because obviously that's not what I'm talking about and I admire people who are unable to get an abortion and are forced to take on such a burden sometimes against their will. I could never do that, I am simply too selfish as a person, and I would be beyond devastated if I ever lost my option to choose)

[aparticularbandit]

Loaded God Complex (II)

Summary: The problem with designing a Game that ends in your death during your most desperate hour is that sometimes things can get better.

…and then you still have to play a Game that ends in your death.

Or: The woman we know as Tsumugi has probably the best birthday of her life at what is probably the worst time to have it.

NOTE: Because this is pre-game, Tsumugi’s name is different. In this, she is primarily referred to as Tsukasa Yuki instead of Shirogane Tsumugi. Despite names you might recognize, every other character in this is an OC. Think of it as a reverse reference; Yuki seeded her scripts and games with references to people she knew and loved. We’re just seeing that in reverse.

Chapter Rating: T. Fic Rating: M for brief nudity.

AO3

previous chapter | next chapter

An engagement party.

An engagement party.

And Miki had the gall to ask Yuki to celebrate with them.  Like she would be happy about this.  At all.

Yet here Yuki stands, on the steps of Ryoko’s brownstone, a bottle of champagne in one hand, even though she wants something much, much stronger.  She hates this.  She hates everything about this.

But it’s Ryoko.

And if Ryoko still wants her here, the way Miki strongly suggested she does, then Yuki will be here.  Not out of politeness – she could come up with a million and one reasons why now is a horrible time, and all of them (most of them) have to do with this being crunch time for the next season of the Game (which Miki and Ryoko both know, but whatever) – but because….

It’s Ryoko.  It’s still Ryoko.  It will always be Ryoko.  And no matter how many hits their relationship (or lack thereof) has taken over the years, Yuki will always be there when Ryoko needs wants her.

No matter what Ryoko thinks.

Yuki takes a deep breath, counts to ten (not the way her therapist tells her to do because she doesn’t have a therapist, but certainly the way that all of those television therapists tell their patients to do (if they’re a good therapist and not a secret evil therapist who is more concerned with cannibalism and turning their patients into the worst versions of themselves than—  See, this is why she doesn’t have a therapist)), and hesitates before ringing the doorbell.

She can still leave.

She can set the bottle of champagne on the doorstep and leave a note on it or…or send a text so that Ryoko knows both that she was here and also that the champagne hasn’t been poisoned (she writes scripts for murder mysteries, so it’s plain to see why her mind would go there), but….

Yuki sighs and knocks on the door.  Shave and a haircut.  Soft.  So soft that she’s certain no one will hear it unless they’re standing right inside the door, which no one would do this early into an engagement party, which means it’ll be a good excuse to say that she was here and that she knocked and no one heard her and she can just—

Two bits.

The response, equally soft, just as Ryoko always does it – her echoing answer, another form of check in just as much as the anime villain glasses push is, always at the same volume as Yuki starts it to say that she hears her (although sometimes Ryoko starts the call, tapping her finger on the back of Yuki’s hand, if something seems—  It doesn’t matter anymore, they aren’t together, this is just plain cruel, why is she even starting one of their forms of communication when Ryoko is plainly engaged to someone else)—

Then the door opens, and there Ryoko is.

There’s no one quite like Ryoko, and Yuki knows this intimately.  Not because Ryoko is was her girlfriend, but because she has tried to write Ryoko in a thousand ways across what often feels like a thousand seasons (but is not), throwing bits and pieces of her into so many characters and thinking maybe she’s finally captured the essence of one part of her only to realize that she’s missed something else entirely, and in throwing that piece into another, she splits her, fragments her across nearly every character she touches.

Every character she loves anyway.

(And if she’s honest with herself, Yuki loves all of her characters.  She does.  It is impossible to write them – to know them as completely as she does – and to not love them.  Even if some of them are cruel or torturous or broken, they’re all beautiful, and they’re all hers.  It’s impossible – it’s impossible – and no one else understands that.

(Mitsuki did, once.)

Yuki just gets the hate mail.

…or did, before the company started removing their individual names from the credits and slapping everything with Team Danganronpa, before the company got sued for doing that because some people didn’t think that adequately credited them (and it didn’t, really, but Yuki hadn’t minded that because it meant less death threats when someone’s favorite character died suddenly and abruptly in what some people considered the middle of their character arc when they hadn’t even seen the rest of the season yet, there is so much more to come), before the company decided that having them use codenames and aliases in place of their real names was an acceptable compromise that gave them credit but still afforded them some form of protection.

(The audience will know who she is the first time they see her name.  They should, anyway.  Shirogane Tsumugi has had top billing across so many seasons of the Game and been the topic of so much fan discourse – so much fan hate and fan love – that they’ll know something is up the moment she gets introduced.

(The same way they knew something was wrong the moment Mitsuki’s alias disappeared from that same billing.  Few of them guessed at what actually happened, although it was one of the theories.  Some of them thought she’d just gotten tired after fifty seasons of Danganronpa – and who could say they were wrong?  Most of them thought that everything that went wrong from the fifty-first season on was entirely Tsumugi’s Yuki’s fault.  Everything bad was her.  Everything that was once good was Mitsuki.  Danganronpa stopped being good when Mitsuki left.  So on and so forth.)

At least this time, she’ll hopefully fuel her own wave of character discourse instead of just writing discourse.

No one will believe it.  They’ll call it a blatant self-insert – and it will be, but in the worst way.  No one will think she is actually there.  But they’ll pick up on the meta of it.  Maybe.

Maybe.))

None of this matters.

Ryoko – the real, living, in the flesh Ryoko – is standing right in front of her, and nothing else matters.

And she’s in the floor-length denim skirt and that olive green cropped tank that leaves her stomach exposed that she wore on their first official date, which, you know, why wouldn’t she be, why wouldn’t she be in something that’s plainly tailored to hit Yuki right where it will hurt the most and remind her of exactly the thing that she’s trying not to think about while having to be in a situation where she can’t not think about it.

This. Isn’t. Fair.

Yuki wants nothing more than to reach out, to brush her fingers along that stretch of skin, to pull Ryoko to her, and—

And what?

They’re not together anymore.

She’s not allowed.

So Yuki forces her gaze to move up (bless Ryoko for not saying her eyes are up here, although she has to know that Yuki is looking (and no, not respectfully, absolutely not respectfully, it’s been months, and she wants her girlfriend back, and the point of this entire stupid, stupid party is that she will never have her back, so no, there’s no respectfully here, there’s just desire and fury tinged with regret)).

This also is not a great decision.  (Where can she look when it comes to Ryoko?  She can’t.)

Ryoko’s blue eyes don’t sparkle (because people’s eyes don’t really sparkle, not without the proper lighting to cause that sharp reflection), but Yuki’s always felt like they do when they land on her (and always feels as though she could pinpoint the exact moment their relationship began to fall apart by the way her eyes lost that sparkle).  They do light up when she sees Yuki on the other side of the door, though, twinkling with a mixture of joy and mischief.  Ryoko sucks her lower lip through her teeth and grins the way she used to when she looked (also not respectfully, there was never much call for respect in a relationship that didn’t need it to begin with) before giggling awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand, a deep flush scarletting her cheeks.  “Sorry for having Mikarin call during crunch—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Yuki whispers, waving her free hand dismissively.  “She said you were throwing a party, so I….”  She hesitates, refuses to lie.  (Not to Ryoko.)  “I came.”  Then she lifts the bottle of champagne and offers an awkward smile of her own.  “I brought the good stuff.”

Ryoko’s brows raise sharply.  “Champagne?”

“Good champagne,” Yuki counters.  “It’ll sound cliché, but I was saving this for a special occasion.”  She remembers, again, why she’s here, and her face falls.  (She tries to shrug this off.  It doesn’t work.)  “Miki plainly said it was a special occasion.”

Ryoko’s head tilts ever so slightly to one side.  “Isn’t it?”

Yuki shrinks as she feels Ryoko scanning her appearance, taking her in.  She wants nothing more than to pull the hood of her sweater dress up to cover her head.  It’s nicer than the Team Danganronpa hoodie by leaps and bounds (she’d wanted to look nicer for an engagement party (barf)), but it still has drooping cat ears and two pink squares on the hood as muted cat eyes and the image (if it can be noticed) of a nose and whiskers imprinted on its torso.  Nicer, but still not strictly speaking nice.  Less so if she pulls the hood up.  So instead, she ruffles her long blue hair, draws some of it across her face, and shrinks into that instead.  “I’ve been busy,” she mutters, shoving her free hand into one of her side pockets.  (Her fingers curl around the box within, and she squeezes it.  This doesn’t help.)

“You’re always busy.”  Ryoko crosses her arms.  She gives Yuki the flicker of a harsh look, then sighs and relaxes, pushing a hand through her shaggy ginger hair (orange-red as a flame, not red as blood, and always pulled back with a ribbon near the end, holding it together, leaving it free to move).  Then she steps back, holding the door open.  “Come on, come on.  I’m sure you don’t have much time.”

I don’t want to fight.

As Yuki passes her, Ryoko reaches out, squeezes her shoulder, and then leans in just enough to brush a kiss against her cheek.  “Relax,” she murmurs.  “You’re so tense, Yu-chan.”  Then she takes the bottle of champagne – fingers just brushing against Yuki’s as she does (this is inevitable, Yuki knows this is inevitable, and yet…and yet) – and lifts it with a wry grin.  “Let’s get this party started, huh?”

Yuki follows Ryoko down the long entryway and can’t help but look at the walls once decorated with their pictures.  She finds hollow places, ghosts, the empty spaces where their life once hung.  (There are better words for this, but Yuki has spent so long in scripts and so far away from the fanfic where she once started that she can’t think of any.  Even if she’d been writing long form every day for the past decade, she’s not sure that she could.)  But a few of their pictures remain up – not their most popular couple’s cosplay (KyoSaya, when Madoka was big), but their favorite.  Utena and Anthy take center stage – the first couple they did, separately at first and then together.  At one point, they’d had a long collage made of their various cosplays of just this couple, since they’d gone through so many variations of them, and it’s select images from those that remain up now.

They haven’t made any new cosplay photos in…in years.  The most recent of these is three? five? years old.  She’s not sure.

Yuki pauses in front of that last picture and stares up at it.  “We were beautiful, weren’t we?”

“Were?”  Ryoko pauses at the end of the hallway and glances over her shoulder at her.  “You’re talking to the gorgeous girl genius!  What do you mean were?”  She flashes Yuki a brilliant smile, then lets it fade into something fond – ever so fond.  “You still are, too, Yuki.  You just…”  It fades away entirely as the corners of her eyes tighten.  “You just forgot.”

“I….”  Yuki tries to breathe through the lump in her throat – Ryoko said her name bare, intimate; she would never mean that as a dishonor – and turns to Ryoko with wide eyes.  “You’re beautiful,” she agrees, breathless.  “I’ve just always been so—”

“Don’t you dare say you’re plain, Yu-chan.”  Ryoko sticks her tongue out, jesting the way they always did (once), and the moment’s gone – no, it’s still there, it’s just slipping through her fingers into the familiar of what their relationship was, into the sting of it.

Yuki scuffs her boot and shoves her hands into her hoodie’s pockets, head hanging as she walks forward.  “All normies are plain.”

“And I’m beautiful.”  Ryoko reaches over and ruffles Yuki’s hair fondly.  “Besides, there’s no such thing as a normie,” she says, grinning as Yuki scowls at her.  “Maybe listen when your—”  She catches herself before it slips through.  “—when I tell you that you’re not—”

But Yuki hears what is almost said, feels it linger between them, and slumps forward as she pushes past Ryoko.  “I’m not your girlfriend anymore, Ryo-chan.  I don’t have to listen to a word you—”

Then she crosses the threshold into the living room and has just enough time to wonder why it’s so dark in there before the lights flip on, near blinding her.  A small gathering of their friends (and none of her coworkers) burst out from various hiding areas around the room, screaming out, “Surprise!” while an avalanche of balloons of various colors fall from overhead.  There’s even a banner hanging in bright rainbow colors: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Yuki stares.  Blinks.  “Huh?”

“Forget again?”  Ryoko elbows her with a grin.  Then she pops the champagne bottle.  “See, this is why we have to get you out on your daily excursions—”

“Hey!”

But Yuki can’t say more than that.  It’s a birthday party.  For her.  Not an engagement party.  Her gaze drops to Ryoko’s left hand – she’d been avoiding it before, not wanting to see the size of the ring Miki must have gotten her (and so not noticing when Ryoko didn’t immediately show it off for her) – but on seeing that there isn’t anything there—

Yuki takes another deep, steadying breath and slowly raises a hand, wiggling two fingers.  Then she forces a bright smile on her face (feels it pushing against the edges of credibility).  “I’m just plain excited to see all of you!”  Her gaze flicks across each of their faces, lands briefly on Miki’s, and then returns to Ryoko’s.  (Her eyes sparkle.)  “This was…this was your idea?”

“Yep.  Miki helped.”  Ryoko leans toward her and whispers, “She’s better at the whole organizing thing than me, since it’s not a con group.  She made sure everyone was free.”  Then she leans back and tilts her head toward the kitchen.  “I’ll just be getting everyone this champagne you brought, yeah?”

“No, no.  I’ll get it.”  Yuki reaches for the bottle, and her fingers brush against Ryoko’s again.  “It’s plain to see that the bar is the best gathering point.”  And she can sink into something that’s reliable, comforting.  She couldn’t bartend in her sleep, but out of everyone here….  “And I’m plainly the best at running it.”

Ryoko meets her eyes.  “Just don’t get drunk.  You break shit when you’re drunk.”

Yuki offers her a fond, gentle smile.  “My last party before the Game, and you don’t want me to have any fun.”  She pouts, eyes growing large.  “Don’t worry.  I—”  She catches herself, her free hand outstretched, before ruffling Ryoko’s hair.  Her fingers flinch back, and she shoves her hand back into her pocket again, where she brushes against the box therein.  Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Miki, eyes wide, and then her gaze drops.  “I won’t.”

[eleven-roses]

I am never going to be normal again how do you go back and fix the trauma from every rape when you can't even count how many times it happened how do I look a lover in the eye and say "hundreds" and see the face of pity that they make back at me??? I lost my relationship with the person I love most, the safest person I know, because I can't have one night of normal. I freak out and cry and panic after every normal sexual encounter because I don't feel like I gave enough, I don't feel used enough. He is never going to love me in the same depth again. I can't find new people because funny enough, there's still not a dating app for asexuals. Why couldn't you just let me sleep in peace? I am so small and fragile. He always let me sleep in peace and I lost him because of you. He always asked for consent. He always double checked. I feel so fucking inferior because I can't just be normal in their eyes, it's not normal to want to fuck the victim you're just fucking sick and twisted. Did you know all the women's sexual wellness websites say, "congratulations on getting out of that situation you were in, kid!" And they don't tell me how to fucking fix this. Did you think I could afford a fucking specialized therapist? Seriously, what was I to you? I start paying for your shit so you start raping me and cheating on me? You made me so fucking strange with your weird shit. I finally figured out who I am and she's a really good fucking person and you broke her in a way that she'll never have a normal relationship again. I don't want to cringe every time someone touches me. I don't want to cry after work every day because I spent the whole day in fight or flight looking for your dead, ugly face. I hope that new girl didn't just go along with your bullshit because she's younger than I am. Sometimes I just start searching the internet for videos of my sleeping body because I have no reason not to believe you put them there. I was just a kid, and you need to get therapy for whatever the fuck made you so capable of grooming at twelve years old. You're a disgusting human being. I've met so many good people and had so many good experiences since I left, and I don't know how I wasted so much time with you. How did you find a good woman like me and rape her over and over and over? You'd be driving me to work in the mornings and id ask you why "I don't know" and I'd ask you to stop "I'm sorry, I'll stop" but you got worse and worse. If I moved to the couch to sleep you'd try to rape me in view of your dad. One night I told you I was kicking you off of me and you said, "no you weren't" so I told you it was pretty fucking sad if it's gotten to the point where I'm dreaming you're raping me. (You were lying anyway) I hate you and I hope you die slowly and soon, before you have the time to get old and creepy and take people's daughters away from them. You're pathetic, rot in hell

[hangovercurse]

I’d Drop it All for You

Pictures of you and Pete are spread all over the internet, causing a whirlwind of hate to enter your social media.

Request: “Pete content please! anything !!! smut fluff whatever”

Pete x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, depictions of depression and anxiety

A/N: *Insert normal spiel about respecting A.G. and only using her for plot purposes. No harm intended.* Also I wrote most of this after a meeting with my therapist so... enjoy :) (He’s so cute in this gif I wanna kiss his face)

Word Count: 1820

You weren’t one of those people who loved being the center of attention. You knew that being in the spotlight also meant constantly living under a microscope, and you decided a long time ago that that was not for you.

But you were lucky enough to work as an assistant art director at just 24. You were hoping that The King of Staten Island, your newest project, would help get your name out into the professional world. But that wasn’t the only thing to come out of the film.

It happened unexpectedly, you showed up on set the first day, ready to do whatever the art director required of you. You couldn’t help but be slightly distracted by the lead actor and writer, Pete Davidson. He was so kind and funny, and he wasn’t uptight like everyone else.

After a few hours of filming, he came up to you, introducing himself. He said he “wanted to get to know everyone working on the project,” but you didn’t see him introducing himself to anyone else. You two started talking during breaks. Then he started sitting with you at lunch. Then he was asking for your number.

In a matter of weeks he was asking you out to dinner, taking you to a cozy restaurant that you absolutely adored. He walked you home, his hand grazing yours until you intertwined your fingers.

It was all very romantic, so when Pete asked if he could take you on another, you obviously said yes. Flash forward two weeks and he finally got the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend, even though you were both exclusively seeing each other already.

After filming ended 2 months later, you were still working on the film in post, which meant you had an excuse to stay  in Staten Island with Pete. After about 2 weeks in post, you spent more nights in his bed than your hotel’s.

Nearly 6 months later and you were happier than ever. You were splitting your time between your small apartment in the Bronx and Pete’s basement apartment. Pete introduced you to most of his friends, and you introduced him to yours.

But other than your small circles of friends, you kept your relationship fairly quiet. Pete doesn’t have social media and yours is strictly professional, so there are no pictures of you two together. You weren’t hiding each other, you loved each other, you just had no reason to tell tabloids. And you were perfectly happy with that.

Which made it so much worse when various news sites had pictures of you two holding hands. Had they been anyone else you would’ve thought they were cute, walking along the South Beach oceanside at night.

Pete had been in the SNL studio all day when the pictures were released, while you were in his apartment, trying your best to focus on the photoset in front of you. The production team wanted the film to scream “teen romance,” which basically entails subtle pink undertones and a higher saturation. But you couldn’t quite get the coloring right, probably because you weren’t actually focusing on the colors.

You sighed, looking at the time and realizing that Pete won’t be back until sometime after 2am, which was a whole 5 hours away. You let out a huff, pushing away from the desk and making your way to Pete’s closet and searching for one of his hoodies. They always smelled like him (and weed), so it was a comfort to you.

You crashed onto the bed, finding the phone that you had tossed there a few hours earlier. Turning it on you were surprised by the number of notifications you were getting. You knew the photos had surfaced but you weren’t expecting this.

Your Instagram was blowing up with new follows, likes, and comments. It was kind of exciting at first until you started reading some of the comments.

I mean, we knew he would downgrade from Ari, but this is like… really far down.

This girl really thinks she’s special just bc Pete’s dating her. Hun he could do so much better

Who is she?!? Literally no one.

Someone needs to show her how to dress

That hairstyle is not it honey

Pete Davidson is dating YOU??? He could do sooo much better

Ari was prettier sorry not sorry

The entire comment section on your last post, a picture of you on the set of your latest film, was pretty much the same. There were some nice comments, but a lot of mean ones.

And you couldn’t help it, you couldn’t stop looking at them. It felt so cliché, but it was like all of your deepest insecurities about being with Pete were thrown out on the table.

You knew that Pete had a fairly large following, and that a lot of people had really strong feelings about him. You had expected that if and when your relationship went public you would have a lot of people watching you, scrutinizing you. But you didn’t care because Pete was worth it.

Now you weren’t so sure. It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle people talking bad about you, because you definitely could, even if it hurt. You just weren’t expecting the amount of people comparing you to Ariana or saying that Pete could do so much better.

And it only bothered you so much because you felt it too. Your inner demons loved to remind you that Pete had dated Ariana fucking Grande and now he’s dating you. Anyone could see an obvious downgrade.

You turned your phone off and threw it on the opposite side of the bed, trying to think positive thoughts. “I am in control of my own thoughts and emotions. I am catching my negative thoughts and fixing them.” You murmured your therapist’s mantra to yourself, but it was too late. The thoughts had already taken hold of your mind.

Your eyes started to water as you could feel the heavy feeling in your chest set in. You pulled the hood over your head, pulling the straps to hide as much of your face as possible, and pulling your knees to your chest. You laid like that for a while, tears falling as doubts ran through your head. Once you had effectively exhausted your thoughts, you went numb. Your tears had stopped, but you couldn’t move. This wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but it sure wasn’t pleasurable.

There was a sort of buzzing throughout your body, almost like the feeling when your foot falls asleep, but everywhere. It seemed to block out your sound, as you didn’t hear the basement door open. You only knew that Pete was home when he sat beside you on the bed, pulling the hood off your face.

“There’s my beautiful girl.” He smiled at you. You tried your best to fake one back, but you honestly couldn’t find the energy. Pete pulled you so you were sitting up, back pressed against his front. His arms wrapped around your middle as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “What’s goin on?” He murmured against your skin.

“Did you see them?” You asked, your voice quiet and hoarse.

Pete let out a sigh, “Yeah, I saw them.” He paused, his hold on you getting tighter, like he was making sure you couldn’t leave. “I’m sorry baby. I know you didn’t want it to be a whole big thing.”

You turned your head to face him, “It’s not that. I really don’t mind that people know. We weren��t trying to hide anything.”

He smiled, “Yeah, I know I just- it was nice having this to ourselves.”

He wanted to hide you. He’s embarrassed of you.

Your inner dialogue never seemed to shut up.

You turned away from Pete, trying to hide the tears forming in your eyes. “Yeah.” You whispered.

“What’s wrong, you’re still upset.” He rocked you in his arms, kissing the top of your head. You shrugged in response, not trusting yourself to talk. “You can talk to me, y’know.”

You nodded, leaning further into Pete’s chest. “People found my Instagram.” You murmured, looking down and tracing the arrow tattoo on his hand.

“Whaddya mean? I thought it was public?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

You sighed, wishing you hadn’t said anything. “Yeah, it is. But after all the articles people started following me and shit.”

“I would ask how that’s a problem but I deleted my Instagram so I can’t really talk.” You could tell he was trying to make you feel better, but you couldn’t seem to get out of your haze.

You shook your head, deciding to drop the matter. “It’s not, I’m just being overdramatic.” You sighed, putting on a fake smile and facing him fully. “Wanna watch a movie?” You asked, trying to change the topic.

He gave you the I-know-you’re-bullshitting-me look, which made you look down. “Something’s bothering you, Y/N. And you’re trying to pretend it doesn’t because you think your feelings aren’t valid, but they are.” He tilted his head, trying to meet your eyes that were still trained on the bedsheets below you.

“Where’d you learn that one?” You chuckled half-heartedly.

“Rehab part 2” he smiled, hand coming to your jaw to tilt your head up. “C’mon, talk to me. I wanna help.”

You huffed, moving towards the opposite side of the bed where your phone laid. You opened it, finding your Instagram, and showing him the comments. His eyebrows furrowed as he scrolled through the comments. When he decided he’d had enough he put your phone down, grabbing your waist and lifting you onto his lap so you were essentially straddling him.

He leaned his forehead against your own, your noses touching. “That’s all bullshit, you know that, right?”

You looked down, biting your lip. “Y/N you’re the most amazing, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, okay? I’m in love with you, not anyone else.” Pete’s eyes were searching yours, trying to figure out what was going on in your head.

“I know.” You sighed, “It’s just hard to be with you and not compare myself to her. And then all these people started to do it too, and they kept saying that you could do so much better and you can. So, I dunno I guess I just kind of spiraled.”

Pete captured your lips in a long, passionate kiss. “Y/N. There is literally no better than you. I can’t do better because you are the best woman I have ever loved. “

You pulled Pete in for another kiss. “Thank you, Pete. I love you.”

“I love you too. If this happens again, I want you to call me. I don’t care what I’m doing, I’d drop it all for you.” You smiled, sitting in the arms of the guy you loved. The thoughts didn’t just magically go away, but for a brief moment in time, you were happy.

[thetravelerwrites]

Errol (Naga) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Human/Male Naga Additional Tags: Cheating, Infidelity, Break-ups, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Secretly In Love, Angst, Sex, Breeding, Pregnancy Kink, Dom/Sub, Ovipositor, Oviposition, Pregnancy, Babies, Eggs, Egg Laying Words: 7887

A commission for @anjhope1​​! After catching her fiance cheating, the reader breaks up with him and goes home miserable. The ex-fiance's brother, Errol, arrives on his brother's order to get his things from her apartment, but Errol is more interested in taking care of the reader and making sure she's okay. It leads to some confusing feelings and a confession. Please reblog leave feedback!

The Traveler’s Masterlist

You’d had your suspicions for a while, but it wasn’t until you got the message on social media from a girl he’d dated and dumped who had photographic proof of it that you finally had to face the truth.

Your fiance was cheating on you.

Eric was a naga and had been with you for more than five years. He had asked you to marry him, ring and all, on New Years Eve with his family. He had made a big show of it, too. And now, you were going to have to confront him about being a cheating bastard.

The woman who had been dumped told you that he was now dating her friend, and she had gotten the room number where they were supposed to meet. You got to the hotel with your heart in your throat and knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” That was definitely Eric’s voice. He had told you that his friend needed help moving and that he’d be staying over to help him. What a good friend he was.

You deepened your voice in an effort to mask it. “Room service.”

“Oh, good, I was wondering if you were ever going to come,” Eric said, and the door swung open. As soon as he saw you, the blood drained out of his already pale face.

“No, wait--”

“Hey, babe, did they bring the right wine this time?” A female voice said from inside.

You took off your ring and threw it in his face and called inside the room, “You can have the bastard.” And walked away.

“Wait, please, this isn’t what you think,” Eric said, slithering quickly down the hall to catch you. He grabbed your arm and you wrenched it violently out of his grasp.

“Babe, who’s this?” The woman said. She was human and pretty, you guessed.

“I’m his fiance,” You retorted. “Oh, sorry, ex-fiance. Don’t worry, he’s all yours.”

“What the fuck, Eric?!” She shouted at him. “Are you kidding me?”

“Rachel, it’s not…” He stuttered. “It isn’t…”

Rachel slapped him and pushed past you toward the elevator, not looking back.

“Babe--” He started, turning back toward you.

“Don’t you dare call me ‘babe,’ you son of a bitch. Why? Why would you do this to me? Why would you waste five fucking years of my life?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you--”

“I don’t give a shit what you meant to do! I want an explanation. Was the sex bad? Do you not love me anymore? Are you just the type of person who has to have a side-chick? What? What about this is good for you? What about all this made destroying our relationship worth it?”

He groaned and scratched his head with both hands. “I… It… I can be anything I want to be with those girls, you know? If I say I’m rich, then I’m rich. If I say I’m successful, then I’m successful, and they don’t know better. They don’t know I have a shitty job that I hate. They don’t know that my girlfriend makes twice as much money as me, that she’s popular with people and everyone likes her better than me, even my own fucking family. They don’t know what a fucking loser I am.”

“And that’s my fucking fault?!” You screamed at him. “You know what you could have done instead of ruining a five year relationship? Gotten fucking therapy! Or, better yet, talked to me about it! I have been nothing but supportive of you. I have encouraged you to leave your job and find a better one. I told you I would support you until you found something that made you happy. You could have gone back to school or done and apprenticeship or vocational work, whatever, and I’d have been there! You could do whatever you wanted, and I would have helped you, and you know that!”

“Right, because you so fucking perfect, huh?” He yelled back. “It’s not enough that you rub your perfect job in my face every day and go around spending whatever you want because you don’t have to worry about money, but you also have to be perfectly supportive and perfectly giving and perfectly loving, too, right? How am I supposed to feel good about myself when you’re always better than me at everything?”

“So, it’s my fault you’re cheating on me because I’m a good girlfriend? Is that what you’re saying to me? I’m too fucking nice, so you had to put your dick in random women to feel better about yourself?” You raised your hands as if surrendering and shook your head in disbelief. “You know what? Fucking forget me. Forget our relationship, forget getting married, forget you ever knew me, forget my fucking face, don’t ever come to my house, don’t ever message me again, delete my number from your phone. As far as you’re concerned, I don’t exist to you, because you sure as shit don’t exist to me anymore.” You turned to leave.

“What about my stuff?” He protested.

“Send your brother to come get your shit,” You said without turning. “If you set foot on my property, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing. I’m not fucking around. I’m so fucking glad you never moved in when I offered. ”

“So that’s it?” He said as you waited for the elevator to come back up. “You’re not even willing to work this out? It’s just over?”

“Get fucked, Eric,” You said, stepping into the elevator. “Oh wait, you already did. Do yourself a favor and sell that ring to pay for a therapist.” And the door closed on him.

As soon as the elevator started to move, you hit the floor and sobbed. Why? Why was he like this? You thought everything was perfect up until a few months ago, and you hadn’t know he felt like this. He always seemed happy. How were you supposed to know otherwise if he never said anything?

How you got back home, you didn’t know, because you didn’t remember it. You grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the freezer and didn’t even bother with a glass. For about an hour, you just sat there disheveled on your couch, crying and drinking.

Sometime later, there was a sheepish knock on your door. You hoped to God that it wasn’t Eric, but when you opened the door, Errol was there. Errol, Eric, and their sister Enya, were all from the same clutch of eggs, so he looked a lot like his brother in that they all had white, black, gold scales, golden eyes, cream colored skin, and blond hair. Errol was a bit larger that Eric, and where Eric wore his hair short, Errol kept his long and braided back. You always thought that it made him look elegant, despite his size. He was still wearing his work clothes, as if he’d just come from his construction job.

You and Errol hadn’t spent much time together alone, since Eric was a little jealous of other men. He’d always been very nice to you, though, and liked you just as well as the rest of his family. He’d even given you advice a few times in the past when you and Eric were fighting.

“Can I come in?” He asked, wincing.

“Did you know?” You asked him, your throat raw and hoarse from crying.

“No, I didn’t know,” He said solemnly.

“Don’t bullshit me, Errol,” You replied harshly.

“I swear I didn’t know. I would have told you, I promise. My brother can be an asshole, but I never thought he would do something like this.” Errol grimaced. “Are you okay?”

“Do I fucking look okay?” You retorted, your voice shaking as the tears returned. “If you’ve come to get his stuff, just get it and leave.”

“I couldn’t give less of a shit about his stuff, I’m here for you,” Errol said. He held up a couple of plastic bags. “I brought take out and ice cream.”

“I’m not hungry,” You said vaguely, but you moved aside to let him in.

“I got alcohol, too,” He said as he slithered inside. “I could make you a Bailey’s float.”

You sighed and sniffled. “Okay.”

You sat at your table as he bustled around making the drink, laying your tear-flushed face on the cool surface of the wood.

“What did I do wrong?” You asked weepily with your cheek pressed against the table.

“Nothing,” Errol said as he lay the glass in front of you, moving a chair so that he could coil up next to the table. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why did he do it?” You asked, sitting up and taking a watery bite of the ice cream. “Why wasn’t I enough? He said ‘girls,’ which means there’s probably more than the two I know about. How long has he been doing this? Our whole relationship?”

“When he called me to come over here and get his stuff for him, I asked. I’m not sure if he was telling me the truth, but he said it’s only been the last year.” Errol snorted derisively. “Only.”

“How many girls?” You asked.

He shook his head. “He wouldn’t tell me. He kept trying to get me to side with him, but…” Errol rolled his eyes. “I’m not buying anything he says right now.”

“Did he do this to his other girlfriends?”

“Well, you were his first serious girlfriend,” Errol said. “Before you, he only dated casually, so it was never a problem. When he said he really loved you, I thought he meant it.”

“Yeah.” Your lip quivered and you stabbed the spoon into your float. “Me too.”

Errol reached out and pulled you into a tight hug, which you sank into and let loose again, soaking his shirt in tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Errol whispered into your hair.

At some point, Errol put you to bed. You were exhausted and drunk and just wanted to sleep, so he lay you down and left you to it.

When the morning came, you felt like your head had been run over with a truck. You decided to get some coffee going before taking a shower, but to your surprise, Errol was still there. He was in the kitchen on the phone, his hair out of it’s usual braid and tumbling down his shoulders.

“What the hell is wrong with you, dude?” Errol said. You immediately realized he was talking to his brother. “No, I’m not picking up your shit. I don’t care if she burns it all.” He was silent for a moment, and you could hear Eric speaking. “No… No, you’re full of shit. Do you know what a good thing you had? Do you have any idea what I would give to have what you just shit on? …fuck no, I’m not going to talk her into taking you back, are you insane?! Get over yourself… No… No, it’s not happening, you can go fuck yourself right now… Look, I don’t have time for your bullshit right now.”

Errol hung up and turned, startled to realize you were standing there. “Oh, hey,” He said. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” You replied honestly. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

“Yeah, you were in bad shape last night and I didn’t want to leave you alone. I slept on the couch, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, no, that’s fine,” You said. “I was just going to make coffee.”

“Oh, I already made some,” He said, going to the coffee pot and pouring you a mugful. “I figured you could use it. I’ve got breakfast coming too, something greasy to absorb all that alcohol.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” You said, sipping the coffee. It was really good, but not your normal brand, though it tasted very familiar. Actually, now that you thought about it, you always drank the gross coffee Eric liked. This was a nice change. “I’m going to take a shower and wash last night off of me. Are you okay here?”

“Yeah, yeah, take your time,” He said, turning to pull down plates and prepare for breakfast.

You were about to turn to the bathroom but stopped. “Errol.”

He looked back up at you. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for… thanks.”

He smiled at you. “It’s no problem at all.”

You took your shower with your head pressed against the tile. Why couldn’t you just forget? Why couldn’t you put all of it out of your mind and stop thinking about it? What would it take to make the pain stop?

The water was cold by the time you got out, and when you went back into the kitchen, the food had arrived and Errol had everything set out on the table. He looked up anxiously when you came in.

“You okay?” He said, concerned. “You were in there for a worryingly long time. I was thinking about going in there if you hadn’t come out in five minutes.”

“I’m fine. Well, not fine, but you know.”

“Yeah,” He said sympathetically. “Try to eat. All you had last night were two bites of ice cream and a lot of alcohol.”

You picked up your fork and speared a sausage. “I must look horrible.”

“Nope, not possible,” He said, tucking into his own plate of food. “A person can look tired and cute at the same time, you know.”

You snorted, prodding your puffy face gently. “You’re too nice. Maybe I should have dated you instead.”

He laughed. “You know, it’s actually kinda funny, I was going to ask you out back in college before you started dating Eric.”

“Really?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah, he kind of sniped you, if I’m being honest.”

“I never knew that,” You said. “Did he know you wanted to ask me out?”

“Oh, yeah, I told him,” He said, shoveling eggs into his mouth. “I told him there was a girl at my college who always went to this one coffee shop near campus, and I told him I was going buy you your favorite coffee and cookies as an icebreaker.”

Your head rocked back. “That’s exactly what he did when he asked me out.”

Errol tsked sardonically. “Yeah. I know.”

You scoffed. “Wow, what an absolute asshole.”

Errol shrugged and smiled. “Ancient history now. Do you want some more coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks,” You said as he filled your cup. “This is really good, what is it?”

“Orange and almond mocha.”

You cocked your head. “Wait… isn’t that the blend I drank at the coffee shop? It used to be my favorite.”

“I know,” He said. “I ordered some. I thought it might be a nice pick-me-up. The shit that Eric drinks is revolting.”

“That’s definitely true,” You said, looking at Errol closely. “You remembered what my favorite coffee blend was from five years ago?”

Errol looked up at you. His face seemed carefully blank.

“Yeah, but I mean, it’s no big deal.” He wiped his mouth and sat back. “I should get going, I have work in a few hours. Are you going to be okay here on your own?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I think I’m going to take some personal days.”

Errol nodded.”That’s a good idea. I’ll call later to check on you, okay? If you need anything, just text me.”

“Okay,” You said, feeling a little off-balance.

Errol smiled and let himself out, and you were left standing there, staring after him as an overwhelming sense of realization hit you like a freight train.

…did I date the wrong brother all this time?

Later in the day, Eric called. You almost weren’t going to pick up, but you decided to see what he had to say for himself now that the heat of the moment had passed.

“What do you want?” You said brusquely.

“Why did my brother spend the night at your house last night?” Eric said immediately.

“...excuse me?” You replied, incredulous.

“You heard me. What the fuck was he doing there?”

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

“What do you mean, it’s not my business? He’s my brother and you’re my fiance!”

“Ex-fiance,” You corrected him. “First of all, you are the one who told him to come over in the first place. Secondly, I was not obviously doing well last night and he stayed to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid or die in my sleep of alcohol poisoning. And third, and I cannot stress this enough, it’s none of your fucking business.”

“Don’t bullshit me, you know he’s in love with you.”

Your head snapped back in agitation. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, you really don’t know? Ms. Perfect doesn’t know that my asshole brother has had a crush on you for years?”

“You’re full of shit, Eric,” You retorted. “Don’t drag Errol into this.”

“Did you just decide to fuck my brother to get back at me, is that it?”

“Fuck you, Eric!” You hung up the phone and hit the floor, a wave of anguish washing you again. What the hell was wrong with him? Why did he have to make everything worse?

The phone rang again, and it was Eric. You decided to block him and be done with it. You got a notification from Facebook, and then Twitter, and then Instagram, all from Eric. Every new notification made your anxiety rise higher and higher until you were balled up on the floor, sobbing again. In desperation, she dialed Errol’s number.

“Hello?”

“Please help,” She begged, weeping. “He won’t leave me alone. He keeps messaging me and calling me. I can’t… I can’t do it…”

“I’ll take care of it, don’t worry,” Errol said. He sounded angry.

“Can you come over? Please?”

“Of course, I’ll be right there.”

“Okay. I’m going to turn off my phone.”

“That’s a good idea,” He said. “If I need to, I can message you on your gaming console.”

“Okay,” You said. “Bye.”

He hung up with you and you turned your phone off, sitting on the floor of your kitchen in the blissful silence, unable to get up.

Was that true? Could it be possible that Errol had been in love with you the whole time you’d been dating Eric? He said he’d wanted to ask you out. He remembered tiny details, like what your favorite coffee had been. He made you your favorite dessert when you were miserable without even having to ask what it was. He stayed overnight to make sure you didn’t get hurt or hurt yourself. He bought breakfast and defended you. He didn’t have to do any of that. He was just your fiance’s brother. Ex-fiance.

He arrived shortly after you called him. As soon as he entered the house, before he had a chance to say anything, you reached up, took his face in your hands, and kissed him. For a second or two, there was no reaction, but then he leaned into the kiss, deepening it, savoring it, before abruptly putting his hands on your shoulders and pushing you back, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“...why did you do that?” He asked you, his face grim.

“Eric told me,” You said. “He said you’ve been in love with me the entire time I was dating him. Is that true?”

Errol looked down and away. “Look--”

“You told Eric on the phone that you’d have given anything to have what he had. You meant me, right?”

“Please don’t do this.”

“Errol, look at me!” You shouted.

It seemed to take a lot of will, but Errol’s eyes flicked back up to meet yours. They were pleading with you.

“Do you love me?”

His face scrunched as if he were in pain and he swallowed hard, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t…

“Don’t…lie to me,” You said in a tense whisper, tears spilling from your eyes. “Do you?”

Tears began to gather in his own eyes. His response was barely audible.

“…yes.”

“For how long?”

“Since I first saw you in the coffee shop.”

You tried to press forward to kiss him again, but he held you firm, sniffing. A tear rolled down his cheek.

“But I don’t want to be used to get revenge on my brother,” He whispered back, his voice strangled and uneven. “It’s not good for you and it’s not fair to me. You know that.”

Your face crumpled. He was right.

“I’m sorry,” You sobbed, unable to look at him anymore. “I just don’t want to think about him anymore. I don’t want him in my head.”

Finally, Errol pulled you into a hug.

“I know,” He said. His body was tense, as if he were restraining himself. “We can revisit this later. Much later.”

“When?” You asked piteously.

“Not now. Not soon. You need time to heal and I… need to think.”

“I’m sorry, Errol,” You cried into his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never saw it.”

He laughed slightly. “It’s not your fault. I got really good at hiding it. And Eric always kept you at arms length from me. I think he was afraid I’d steal you away or something.”

He let you go and you stepped away, looking at the ground in shame.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was using you,” You said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

He put his hand under his chin and made you look up at him, his thumb stroking your cheek. “For what it’s worth, I’m relieved the secret is out now. Tiptoeing around you and Eric was exhausting. The engagement was my worst nightmare, because it meant I’d have to just suffer in silence forever.”

“Well, I’m glad that’s over for both our sakes, then,” You said, attempting to smile.

He smiled too, but it was very soft. Gentle. “I don’t… think it’s a good idea for us to hang out together much from now on, at least for a while,” He said, letting go. “But… we can text. We can call. If you need anything, I’m always here for you. That’s always been true.”

You nodded. “I know.” You sighed and took another step back. “I’m going to miss you.”

His smile widened sadly. “I’m not far, but… I know what you mean.”

With the both of you in tears, he turned, opened the door, and was gone. Thirty seconds after he left, however, you got a text.

>Are you okay?

You smiled through your tears, feeling glad and grateful that he was still communicating with you. >No. But I think I will be.

>Good.

>Are you okay? You asked in return.

>Honestly, I don’t know what I’m feeling right now. This was a lot at once.

>Yeah, no kidding. I think I may see a therapist to help me out.

>That’s a really good idea. Maybe I should too.

>I think everyone should at least once.

>Yeah. Do you need anything?

>No, I’m okay. Thank you for everything, Errol.

>It’s my pleasure.

Some time passed. You and Errol talked and texted every single day. Neither of you brought up dating each other and carefully avoided affectionate language. He wanted you to heal and you wanted to give him a fair chance without the cloud of his brother hanging over you.

Talking to him was effortless, like talking to yourself. You each had your own tastes and dislikes, but you both loved a lot of the same things and had similar desires. You both loved your jobs, enjoyed the same music, gushed over books you’d read, and liked playing board games. One of your favorite things to do was watch movies remotely over Zoom. It was almost like being on a date, even if you couldn’t be together.

As hard as you tried not to, you compared everything Errol did to Eric. Even still, it was obvious that Errol had always been better suited to you than Eric ever was. It was abundantly clear that you had indeed been dating the wrong brother the entire time.

On what was supposed to be your anniversary with Eric, Errol sent you a link to play a horror game with him. Errol hated anything horror, so instead of spending the day crying and drinking and cursing Eric for being alive, you got to laugh the whole day at how loud Errol screamed when he was startled. It ended up being a wonderful day.

You did see a therapist, as did Errol, and the two of you would talk about your sessions with each other, sharing the advice the counselors had given you. He also sent you gifts through delivery, like the coffee you loved and your favorite treats. Whenever you’d had a bad day or had to deal with Eric due to post-breakup business, a treat would arrive the next day, and it always put a smile on your face.

You were worried that all the time apart might change how Errol felt, but he never wavered. You woke up every day to a text saying good morning, and went to bed after talking to him for at least an hour about your day. After a month, you realized that a day or two would go by when you wouldn’t think of Eric at all. You hadn’t thought that would be possible when you first broke up with Eric, and he did still haunt your thoughts most of the time, but the respite from the emotional distress of thinking of him, even for a short time, was wonderful.

Three months after the breakup and his confession, you, Errol, and your therapists all decided that you were ready to date again. That same day, Errol showed up on your doorstep with flowers. The sight of him was like breathing fresh air after being underwater.

“Hi,” He said, smiling brightly.

“Hi,” You replied, stepping forward to pull him into a hug. He reciprocated without hesitation.

“So…” He said, not letting go. “Do you want to go out with me tonight?”

“Yes,” You said, cuddling him closer.

He pulled back and kissed you for a very long time, tasting your lips and teasing his tongue just inside your mouth. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours and just looked at your face, touching your cheeks with his fingertips. Eventually he stepped back.

“Let’s go.”

Dating him was amazing. He knew everything there was to know about you, so he took you to places you loved, to all your favorite restaurants, to concerts he knew you’d enjoy. It was like you’d been dating for years already, even though it was just a few weeks. You made out like teenagers, hot and heavy, but he was careful about being intimate too quickly, though, still fearful about being a rebound. You respected that.

You were already talking about the future, though. You both wanted to get married eventually and to be parents before you turned thirty. Before breaking up, you had been talking about having kids with Eric, which was something he had expressed interest in during the start of your relationship, but recently he had been making excuses, like he didn’t have enough in savings or he didn’t feel ready. You guessed you knew why now.

You were worried that his family would be angry with you for ending your relationship with Eric and dating Errol, but they seemed completely understanding. It was likely they were also aware that Errol had been in love with you forever, and the fact that Eric cheated on you wasn’t something they were proud of. You were still warmly invited to all the family gatherings with Errol, and while having Eric there was a little awkward, his seething anger at seeing you happy with Errol was the best revenge you could have asked for.

“They let everyone in the office have the day off. Do you want to hang out today?” You asked Errol one night after about a month and a half of dating.

“Ordinarily I’d love to, but I’m feeling kinda weird today. Squishy. I think I’m going to have my period soon.”

He wasn’t being hyperbolic; nagas with male sex organs both created the eggs and fertilized them, but they didn’t have a womb or cavity in their bodies where the eggs could incubate, which is why they needed people with uteruses to propagate the species. It took a month for the eggs to develop inside them, but after that, they could implant them into another person’s body at any time they chose. However, after a year, the eggs died naturally and were expelled from their bodies, therefore, male nagas experienced periods once a year. Eric usually went to a specialized facility where the eggs would be humanely disposed of.

“Are you sure? Isn’t it rather soon for that.”

“I went into heat last week. The eggs usually die quickly after that.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” You said. “Why did you go into heat? That typically only happens when nagas in a sexual relationship with someone, right?”

“That, and if you’re experiencing extreme sexual needs that aren’t being met.”

“Oh. Ohhh…” You hissed in a breath. “Is it because of me?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” He reassured you. “It’s my problem. I’ll take care of it.”

You were silent for a moment of deep contemplation. He seemed to sense you were thinking about something.

“What’s the matter?” He asked.

“Do you think the eggs are still viable?”

It was his turn to be silent. “Um… maybe. Probably. I think it’ll be another week before I need to go in to evacuate them. Why do you ask?”

“I was just thinking…” You said slowly. “We both said we wanted kids. And I know we’re just starting out, and this is super sudden, and it probably doesn’t even make sense to do this now, and we haven’t even had sex yet, but… oh, god, I’m rambling…” You sighed heavily. “If you’d like, we can wait until next year when we’ve been together for longer, but… it just seems like this is a good opportunity. It… feels right, you know what I mean? If that’s what you want.”

He took another moment of silence to think really hard about what you were saying. “Are you sure about this, honey?” He asked you finally.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am,” You said resolutely. “I love you, and I’m in a good place, both emotionally and financially. I’m ready to be a mom. I have been for years.” You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt anxiously. “Is this something you want? I mean… I totally understand if it isn’t. If you want to wait, that’s fine with me. I just… I want to do this.”

His voice turned sultry. “You really want my eggs?”

You grinned and bit your lip. You’d learned through hints in conversations you had with him that he had a little bit of a breeding and pregnancy kink.

“Yeah. But we should act fast if we want them to take.”

“I’ll be right over,” He said, and the phone clicked.

You immediately went into the bathroom to get ready, feeling nervous. There was a weight of expectation on you, not just because you were talking about getting pregnant, but also because of how long Errol had wanted to be with you. You were scared that you wouldn’t live up to his expectation.

He arrived shortly after, looking excited and nervous. You pulled him into your arms and kissed him. He was shaking.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

“Yeah,” He said, touching your face reverently. “I’ve just… I’ve been dreaming of this for so long. I can’t believe it’s actually happening.”

You smiled softly at him. “Come on.” You took him by the hand and pulled him toward the bedroom. He took a deep, shaky breath and followed.

Once in the room, he pulled you in and kissed you again, deeper this time, more probing, his body pressed flush against yours.

“I’m not sure how to… begin…” He said. “I don’t know what you like and don’t like yet.”

“We can learn as we go,” You said. “We don’t have to rush.”

“Well, what do you like? Do you have any kinks I should know about?”

You laughed. “I have a few, I guess.”

“Tell me about one,” He said.

Instead of telling, you knelt down and sat on your knees with your butt resting on your feet, perched forward on your hands, and looked up at him through your lashes.

“What would you like me to do for you?” You asked, biting your lip.

His eyebrows rose and a startled smile spread across his face. “Oh,” He said. Slowly, he took off his long shirt, exposing his torso and the slit on his lower abdomen, usually closed and imperceptible from his scales, but now swollen and puckered slightly. He ran his fingers through your hair where you were crouched on the floor and came close, so that his slit was near your face.

“Touch it for me, sweetie,” He said.

Gently, you circled one finger around the slit, feeling it pulse under your touch. He exhaled sharply and his head fell back, his braid swinging. With your forefinger and middle finger, you stroked it up and down, watching it open slowly. You leaned forward and kissed it, and he spasmed, groaning.

Gradually, two dicks emerged from his slit, a long, thin one with a spear-like head, and a shorter, thick one with a bulbous head. You knew each had a different purpose. Normally, the thin one would be retracted so that nagas could just enjoy sex, but the thin one was an ovipositor. It’s what implanted the eggs. You knew not to touch it, since it secreted a numbing agent that made implanting the eggs easier.

“Now?” You asked.

“Not yet,” He said. “You’re not ready yet. Stand up.”

You obeyed, and he began to undress you. You started to help, but he said, “No, no, let me do it.”

You put your arms back down and let him peel your clothes off. And then he just looked at you.

“Stand still,” He said. “Stay quiet.”

You nodded, obeying.

“Good girl,” He whispered. “That’s my good girl.”

He started with your shoulders, letting his fingers run over your skin, down your arms, up your sides, caressing your breasts, down your belly, and reached one hand between your legs. You gasped.

“Shh,” He said. “Stay silent.”

It was a hard order to follow, as he touched your pearl and massaged it slowly, running a finger inside your slit as he did. Your breathing was uneven and you had to bite a finger, but you managed to be quiet.

“You can make all the noise you want soon,” He promised seductively. “I just want to test how good you can be for me.”

You nodded again, your body shivering at his touch.

He brought his face very close to yours, so that your lips were mere millimeters apart, but stopped short of actually kissing you. You could feel his cool breath on your neck and chest, and it made your heart race.

“You’re getting there,” He said, pushing a finger inside your entrance. You inhaled, but bit down on your cheek to stay silent.

“Good girl,” He said, pulling his finger out. "Lay face down on the bed and lift your ass up. Spread your legs open.”

You nodded again and followed his orders, doing exactly what he asked of you. He slithered up behind you and went back to touching between your legs with one hand, the other sliding up and down your spine. You felt him sink down and kiss your thighs.

“You can moan for me, darling,” He said.

You were happy to obey, and whimpered against your pillow as he licked a long stripe from behind, kneading your buttocks as he did. He moaned as he sucked on you, your legs shaking. He pressed his thumb into you as he sucked, and you thought you were going to cum. He stopped just before that happened, leaving you feeling desperate.

“Good,” He said. “You’re perfect.” He crawled over you from the back so that his face was next to yours and he kissed you. “Are you still sure about this? We can just have sex, I don’t have to breed you.”

“You want to, don’t you?”

“Don’t worry about what I want right now, are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“Yes,” You simpered. “I want it. Give them to me. Please. I want them.”

He bit his lip, looked at you like you were something he wanted to eat, and grinned. “Good girl.” He went out of view then, and you felt his hands on your hips.

“Be still,” He said. “Let me in.”

You nodded, and felt the slim tube enter your body. The anesthetic began working immediately, so you only had a vague sensation of it pushing all the way in, penetrating your womb, and fixing itself there.

“Are you hurting, love?” He asked as he lay over you, putting his arm under your head so that you could lay on it and resting his body on top of you. Your hips were still in the air and your stomach wasn’t touching the bed.

“No, I’m okay,” You replied.

“Good,” He said, sounding a bit strained, his body tensing. His stuttering breath blew through your hair. “It’s starting.”

He grunted, but you couldn’t tell if it was in pleasure or pain. His breathing was sharp and punctuated as the egg moved down through the ovipositor and into you. You could feel a small swell in your stomach, but it wasn’t painful. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder and relaxed and shuddered, gasping.

“Did it hurt?” You asked.

“Not exactly,” He replied a little breathlessly. “It feels good, but it’s also a bit of work to push it out. Sorry this isn’t as sexy as you might have hoped.”

“Who said it wasn’t?” You replied, nuzzling him. “It’s like a special kind of foreplay. Besides, I’m really enjoying all the sounds that are coming out of you.”

“I can feel that,” He said, laughing. “You keep squeezing me.” He tensed again and started grunting, hugging you tightly.

“You’re doing great,” You told him.

“This is… harder than I thought it would be,” He said stiltedly. You could feel the sweat from his brow dripping on your skin.

“You can do it,” You said, kissing his arm as it gripped you and biting his thumb. “How many do you think there are?”

“I think three,” He said. He exhaled forcefully, and you felt another swell slip into you as he panted.

“One more, honey,” You said. “Deep breaths.”

He snickered, and then groaned. “Okay…” He said. He gripped you hard as the last one came and passed through. You were beginning to feel a full sensation in your belly and felt glad this was the last one.

Once it was out, the ovipositor retracted and he flopped onto the bed, gasping like a fish.

“Whoa,” He said. “Laying them in a person is way different than disposing of them.”

“How so?” You asked, moving to lie on your side so that you could touch him. He was clammy and cold.

“That felt great,” He said, looking over at you and smiling. “Like, it hurt a bit, but it felt like a small orgasm every time.”

“Probably a biological incentive to procreate,” You said, kissing his chest and neck.

He snorted. “Probably.” He looked at you with his eyes half lidded. “It’s going to be a few minutes until you get the feeling back down there. Why don’t you spend some time and play with me?”

“Is that an order?” You asked.

“Do you want me to punish you?” He asked.

“Maybe I’ll like it,” You said with a smirk.

He took you by the chin and made you look down at the second, larger cock, which was still erect and bobbing. “Touch me.”

You went down and sat astride his tail so that he could watch you take his cock in your hand, and begin to slowly pump it up and down.

“Hmm, that’s good,” He said with a satisfied sigh. “Let me know when your feeling comes back. We don’t want to waste time.”

“I will,” You said, stroking him. Your stomach felt tight, so you rubbed it as you touched him, drawing his eye. He watched you hungrily.

“I can’t believe you did that,” He said, smiling at you.

“We’re only half-way there,” You told him. “Don’t get too excited.”

He bucked his tail and nearly knocked you over onto the bed, making you shriek and laugh.

After a few minutes of teasing and touching and good-natured laughter, the feeling began to return. You started rocking on his tail to be sure, and realized that you were extremely sensitive.

“It’s back?” He asked

You nodded, pleasuring yourself against his body.

“Good. Lay down.”

You obeyed, and he moved to lay on top of you, his tail between your legs and his slit lining up with yours, kissing you deeply and rolling your nipples in his fingers. He pushed himself inside you as he kissed you, careful not to go too deep, as the ovipositor had made you a little sore. You rolled your body against his in time with his thrusts. You were so sensitive that you could already feel the crest of ecstasy beginning to wash over you.

“I love you so much,” He whispered against your skin. “I’m so happy.”

“I love you,” You replied, your hands in his hair as he moved inside you with purpose, precision. “I’m close. I’m so close.”

He stopped immediately, and you groaned shrilly, the sensation of denial sending a shiver up your back.

“Not yet,” He said, biting your lower lip. “Not until I say. Be a good girl.”

You nodded, panting and trembling, but your body was betraying you, writhing desperately against him, trying to regain the friction.

“Be still,” He said. “I’m not going to move again until you be still.”

You squealed in need, but you did your best to make your body stop clutching at him. It took a minute, but you managed to settle down.

“Good,” He said, slowly moving inside you again. “Good girl.”

“Cum inside me,” You begged. “Please.”

“I will,” He said, kissing you. “When I want to. Be patient and I’ll reward you.”

Your body was wound so tightly that you thought you were going to explode, practically vibrating underneath him. The sight of it made him grin.

“You’re so beautiful,” He said, licking your earlobe, still keeping the maddeningly slow pace. “Do you want it that bad?”

“Yes!” You groaned. “Yes, please. Errol, please.”

He thrust sharply, but not hard, and you nearly came undone. You cried out, about to snap like a string.

“Are you always going to be a good girl for me?” He whispered sinfully.

“Yes!”

“Do you promise me?”

“Yes!”

“Say it. Say ‘I promise.’”

“I promise, I promise, please!”

His thrusts became targeted again. “Beg me some more.”

“Errol, please! Please let me cum, please!” You cried. Every muscle, every nerve in your body was screaming for release.

“You can cum when I tell you to,” He said, though his movements were extremely efficient now. He was very good at drawing this out.

“I can’t take it, please!” You begged.

“One more time, say you love me, and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I love you! I love you so much! Please!”

From there, he wasted no time, slamming himself into you with speed. In no time at all, you were a screaming, shaking mess underneath him, thanking him over and over. The tension in his body and the sudden shout and moaning from him told you that he had reached his peak too.

“Not yet,” He gasped, rearing up. “I’m not done yet.”

He had leaned up so that he could look down at you and put his hand on your stomach, feeling the new hardness there. He kept going, pistoning against your body, snapping his hips against you, and rode the wave for a second time, all focus and concentration.

The both of you came one final time before he collapsed on the bed beside you, sucking in air as hard as you were. For a few minutes, all you could do was breathe.

After some time, he left the bed and went into the bathroom, and you heard the water in the tub running. You were barely conscious when he came back and lifted you out of the bed, taking you into the bathroom, and lay you down in the warm water of the bath. You were so tired and boneless that you could hardly raise your head, so he carefully, lovingly washed your body, paying special attention to your belly.

“Are you alive?” He asked after some time of sitting next to the tub, watching you drift in and out.

“I think so,” You replied, opening your eyes to smile sleepily at him. “Do you think they took?”

“We won’t know for a while. You should take it easy until then.” He smoothed the hair away from your face and stroked your cheek. “You’re going to have my babies,” He said, laughing a little.

“I hope so,” You said, taking his hand and kissing the palm.

“Eric is going to be pissed,” Errol said, snickering.

You snorted. “Honestly, I haven’t thought about him once today. This isn’t about him.”

Errol kissed you. “You’re right. It isn’t. It’s about us.” He lay his hand on your stomach and smiled gently. “All of us.”

Only one of the eggs took, but that was okay. Errol’s parents were overjoyed to learn they’d be getting a grandchild. Both you and Errol decided Eric could learn it on Facebook, like all the other strangers and acquaintances in your lives.

You took maternity leave so that you could pass your gestational time in relative peace. Errol fussed over you, making sure you ate properly and went with you to all your appointments. You made the decision to lay the egg at home instead of the hospital, and Errol’s sister acted as the midwife. It was the toughest work you’d ever done, and Errol was the best cheerleader you could have asked for.

Errol took paternity leave, like you had done, since he couldn’t leave the egg, anyway. He incubated the egg for the rest of the gestation period, curled up around it day and night. Errol’s son, Ewan, was born six months after being conceived, and within another year, you and Errol were married.

You often wondered if things had been different, if you had dated Errol from the beginning instead of Eric, if you’d be as overjoyed as you were at the moment. But then you figured that wondering about what ifs was a waste of time. You had a happy family to look after now, after all, and another clutch on the way. There was no time to worry about the past. The future was right in front of you.

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[extremelyblackandwhite]

scrubs - 7.

PAIRING: doctor!sebastian stan x biomedical scientist!reader

WARNINGS: fluff

A/N: have fun everybody xx

< previous chapter

She was stubborn. She’d always been stubborn from the moment he’d first seen her a few years ago and while he knew so many staff over his very long period at the hospital which had seen him do his own residency, he could not forget the first time he saw her. The first thought that popped into his mind was how cute she was in a clearly oversized lab coat as she followed her supervisor around carrying some stock. He’d offered to help her out yet she merely looked him up and down with a sarcastic smile before telling him she didn’t need his help. The exact same sarcastic smile she was wearing right now. 

Time had barely weighed on her, after all, it hadn’t been that long ago and while her hair had changed, her defiance had remained. There weren’t a lot of people who defied doctors or even nurses, they had this sort of mystical tsar like dominance inside hospital walls yet not only she defied him, but she also had almost always the upper hand. 

     - Why would I do that? - she cocked her head to the side, eyebrow raised up as she taunted him. 

     - Because ... - he stood close to him, way too close for her to feel his breathe on her face. His finger traced the side of her jaw, slowly and with torturous intent before he leaned down to her ear. - You really get keyed up when I’m not inside you, doll.

Y/N’s cheeks heated up but she remained her composure, studying her opononent as if this was a chess match. Her eyes looked up at him, a small smile on her lips before she leaned in to kiss him. He melted into her kiss, pressing her against the wall as it became more intimate and lustful, yet it wasn’t messy. She was merely pressed against that wall, his lips molding with hers as his hands rested on her waist. Her hands rubbed up and down his chest, one of them resting upon the hard on visible from his scrubs. She squeezed his through his scrubs as her kisses leaned down from his lips to his jaw and neck, leaving enough lipstick marks to have people wonder. 

    - I guess I’m gonna be keyed up ... - she stopped the kiss before slipping from under him, her hand resting on the knob. - Knock yourself off, Dr. Stan. 

Sebastian remained speechless as he watched her leave. Oh, oh she was wanting to be chased? He smirked to himself, grabbing his jacket before looking down at his erection. That was going to be a fun lunch break, he thought to himself. He allowed her to remain in his mind through his whole shift yet not on the way it usually remained. He wasn’t annoyed at her, it was something else. Maybe he did have an idea of what to do. 

She on the other hand was busy dealing with her ever rushing thoughts about the doctor. She had a bright smile on her face every once in a while every time she thought about what she’d done. Sure, she knew she’d probably deal with the consequences of it the next time they spoke or when HR found out she kissed him in the middle of the reception hall but that was a future problem. She continued with that little smile even as she grabbed her bag, walking down the stairs down to her car, only to find the same man on her mind sat on the boot.

   - Dr. Stan, you do realise you have to enter the car to actually drive it, correct?

   - You are the most difficult woman I’ve ever met. 

   - I didn’t realise we were still fighting over the obvious. - she fished her purse for her keys. 

   - Let’s go on a date. - he jumped off the car. - Hopefully, you’ll end up in my bed as well. 

   - A date? Doctor Stan, the only thing I want to do is get takeaway from the little Italian restaurant next to my house and watch Netflix.

   - Come on, doll. You gave me blue balls the whole day, least thing you can do is have a bite with me. 

She poundered over the question for a little bit. Surely she wouldn’t want this going around the hospital or she would lose the little credibility she had in those halls yet, at the same time, she did enjoy her time with him no matter how much he attempted to get on her last nerve. She lowered her shoulder, letting out a sigh before holding up her keys in her fingers. 

  - You’re driving. 

  - I can’t drive such a tiny car. - he pointed at her baby blue Fiat 500, the very first car she’d ever bought and the only car she’ll ever have for all she cared. 

   - They say men with big cars are compensating for something. Got anything to hide, Dr. Stan? - she smirked as she opened her passenger door. 

  - You would know, wouldn’t you doll? - he caught the keys from her, pushing the driver’s seat back before closing the door. - Damn, this is a tiny car.

  - You’re a tiny car.

  - Is that all you have? I expected a better come back from you.

  - Like you expected me to make you cum earlier? 

He smiled to himself as he started the car. Sebastian honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d driven with someone by his side, much less a woman whom he wasn’t related to. Her car had such an aura to it, the aura of who she was outside of work. He’d never stopped to wonder who she was off work, what she liked, what she disliked; however, her playlist gave a quick peak into a bit of her tastes, a mix between musical theatre, sad pop music, c;assic music and Britney Spears. It made her rounded, more than the woman she was at the laboratory, more than the supervisor Y/N he was so used to have petty fights with. Everything in the car just yelled out who she was, from the little vanilla scent dangling off the mirror, the lipgloss on the side, a few books in the backseat and the car itself. He thought his car was so dull compared to hers, always so unlived in. 

   - Are we going to sit in silence or ... ?  -  she leaned against the head rest.

   - Oh no, doll. I like not talking to you, you normally end up kissing me out of the blue. I could get used to that. 

   - That happened because you were a dick to me. 

   - That happened because you were jealous. Admit it, you like me. 

She remained silent, looking at him through the corner of her eye with a childish smile. He drove past her favourite Italian, getting her reserved order before deciding to take them to his apartment. Sebastian was sure she wouldn’t want him in her flat, no one had really been there. She was a quiet person outside of her job, no one really knew what she exactly did or what she liked. He wondered what type of person she was outside of work but he could only imagine she had that same spark. That little thing which just made her the person he knew.She was always too big for that little hospital.

  - You passed my street.

  - I know. We’re going to my place. I know you’re a private person. 

  - Oh ... - she bite the inside of her lip, looking out the window. - That’s awfully thoughtful of you.

  - Everything ok? - he asked but she merely nodded, leaning on her own hand yet the answer didn’t satisfy him. - You can talk to me, you know? I’m not all bad. 

  - I didn’t know you were a psychologist. 

  - Do you even have anyone to talk to? - he questioned, more in a joking manner than in a serious manner yet her face dropped. Her eyes darting to look out the window as she forced laughter. - C’mon people talk on dates.

  - I have my parents but they’re not in the country. - she answered, pulling at the edge of her cuffs. - It’s only glamorous to work in a hospital if you’re a white male doctor. 

  - Something happened?

  - Not important. - she changed the topic. - Pay attention to the road before you wreck my car. 

Sebastian wanted to ask her, he really did, yet he doubtted she would open up to him. Maybe for good reason, after all, their relationship had been, somewhat, strictly professional for years. Nevertheless, it still tugged at the back of his mind even as he parked. Sebastian existed the car, carrying whatever it was she had ordered before opening the door for her. 

Maybe it was the fact she had been extremely drunk the last time or that she was much more focused on getting him to fuck her but the view from his penthouse flat was something breath taking. She took small steps towards the balcony, holding out the rail as she looked up the city from the top. Everything looked so small, like her own personal sky full of stars. She could just look at it for hours and forget everything.

   - Do you wanna eat out the packaging or do you want me to plate it? - he spoke to her from the kitchen. - Y/N?

   - Whatever’s better for you. - she looked out her shoulder before returning to look at the city. Sebastian dropped the plates onto the marble countertops, abandoning his task to go and join her. She looked at him from the corner of her eye, as if questioning what he was doing by her side. 

   - What’s bothering you? 

   - Nothing’s bothering me.

   - You haven’t bullied me yet. You’re either really trying to get into my pants which is not hard at all, really just need to ask or you’re upset. Either way, I wanna help.

    - You wouldn’t understand. - she leaned her arms on the railing. 

    - I don’t need to understand, I just wanna be there for you.

    - So you wanna be my therapist? - she dryly chuckled. - I’ve just been hating my job.

    - Everyone hates their job.

    - I was the first in the family to go to university, the smart kid. I always did my best, gave up on a regular growing up because I needed to be the best to merely get the opportunities other people had. I worked hard, graduated top of my class and when I got this job I was so happy. - she shakily sighed. - But now I just hate it. I do everything I can, I do the best and beyond, edit company SOPs and training forms and I’m still treated like scum. I just thought that with a degree I would do what I like but instead I’m stuck in that job, unable to do what I like because it doesn’t pay the bills. I interview all the time and it’s always a no. I’m just unhappy, alone and lonely.

  - You’re not alone. You have that friend ... what’s her name? 

  - Miriam? Try being friends with someone who’s recently engaged.

  - I’m sorry. - he scratched the back of his neck. - I didn’t know you felt that way, Y/N. That’s awful. 

  - Thanks, Dr. Stan. I appreciate it. - she saluted him sarcastically. 

  - You need to let people in. 

  - I’ve already let you in. 

  - Not like that. - he chuckled. - You’re always so uptight. Don’t get me wrong, I love it but other people don’t.

  - I don’t really care if people like me. I’m used to it. 

  - Thank god I like you then. - he kissed her shoulder. - And not just when you’re naked and under me. I like talking to you, baby doll. You should quit that job. 

  - And you’d pay for my tiny flat?

  - No. You’d move here and walk around naked with your glasses talking to me about how dumb I am about microbiology.

  - Is that what turns you on?

  - You’ll be ok. I promise you. - he pulled her close to him. - Besides, if anyone ever treats you like scum, you let me know and I will make their life very hard. I can be a nuissance. 

  - I know. - she leaned her head against his shoulder. - It’s a date now.

taglist: @rebekahdawkins​

[extasiswings]

How we feeling clowns?  Wrecked?  Anyway, here, have an episode tag for both the crossover and Buck Begins.  Also on ao3.

Eddie’s driving nearly on autopilot, the roads familiar as they get closer and closer to El Paso. Part of him almost wishes he hadn’t taken the driving shift to get them to his childhood home, even if it made the most sense—he can feel the tension in his jaw and shoulders creeping in, curling tighter with every mile they come closer, and his fingers itch for his phone, for the commiserating sympathies of his sisters who understand what he’s likely to walk into much more than Buck or Hen. 

Technically they could have skipped the detour. Eddie hadn’t even planned on telling his parents he was coming to Texas at all—it was Christopher who let it slip, and then Eddie had been immediately put on the spot and he hadn’t been able to come up with a good way out of stopping by after his weak deflection that it wasn’t a social trip was met with well, you have to stop and eat somewhere, don’t you. 

Sophia told him to lie and say the department said no. But she’s always been much better at lying to their parents outright than he is. Adriana shrugged and said if he didn’t want to go he didn’t need to give them a reason and should just say he wouldn’t be coming. But then, that’s her tactic as well and always has been—putting her foot down to establish hard boundaries, forging her own path and bucking all expectations.  Eddie’s always fallen somewhere in the middle, which he supposes is fitting—struggling to set boundaries, often getting there only when pushed, wanting approval but lacking Sophia’s talent for gentle manipulation that usually leads people to think that whatever she wants was their idea. 

So. Here he sits. Driving to El Paso. 

“Eddie?”

He blinks and clears his throat as he registers Buck’s voice, the edge of concern that says it’s not the first time Buck has called his name. 

“Yeah?”

“I was going to ask if you could pass back the aux cord,” Buck says. “But now I think I should ask if you’re okay.”

Eddie glances over his shoulder—Hen is in the back of the truck, head pillowed against the window, dozing with her eyes closed.  He swallows. 

“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen my parents is all,” he replies. “And usually when they call it’s to talk to Christopher so...it might be uncomfortable.”

Buck’s voice drops. “Have you talked to them since the thing? Other than about this I guess.”

The Thing, also known as the huge fight they got into when Eddie decided that if he was going to keep working he couldn’t live at home for awhile and they tried to once again insist that he take Chris back to live with them. Like some terrible combination of the arguments they had before he moved to LA and after Shannon’s funeral, only even worse because Eddie had been raw enough over the decision to move in with Buck and let his abuela take care of Chris for awhile and really didn’t need to hear anyone tell him that choice made him a bad parent—

Sophia had been spitting mad when he told her and while he doesn’t know what she said in her own subsequent call to their parents, he knows that the next time they called him, the subject didn’t come up again.  Which, he supposes is as close to an apology as he’s ever likely to get.  

He probably could have used that as an excuse to not visit.  But then, that’s not really how they are.  Don’t apologize, pretend you don’t hold grudges, act like everything is fine, and repress until it feels like it is—the Diaz family way.  

Eddie sighs as he focuses on the road.

“Not really,” he replies.  “They’ve called Christopher every few weeks, but we’ve only talked directly...three times maybe since then?  Things seem to go south more quickly when we’re in person though so I guess I’m…”

“Bracing for impact,” Buck fills in quietly.  “I get that.”

“Yeah?”

Buck shrugs.  “I don’t talk about my parents,” he points out.  “Don’t talk to them either if I can avoid it because they always have a way of managing to just—anyway.  The last time I even called was after everything with Maddie and Doug.  Haven’t seen them since...since before I started with the 118 at least. So.  Yeah.  I get it.”

He hesitates, then adds, “You know I have your back, right?  You’re my best friend and you’re an amazing father.  I’m not going to let anybody get away with talking badly about you in front of me, even if they are your parents.”

Eddie glances back and manages a faint smile, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.  

“I’m glad you’re here,” he admits.  “Even if you did try to steal a fire truck in the middle of the night without me.”

Buck laughs and shoves at his shoulder.  “At least it wasn’t this truck.  Besides—you caught up before I did it anyway.”    

“Yeah, my Buck’s about to do something dangerous senses were tingling, couldn’t let that slide,” Eddie teases.

“Just give me the damn aux cord,” Buck shoots back, but he’s grinning.

And as they pass the next exit, Eddie feels like maybe things won’t be quite so bad.

***

Buck hates Eddie’s parents.  

It’s not the most charitable thing to think about someone you’ve only just officially met—he saw them at the ceremony when Eddie passed his probationary period, but he’d been on pretty strong painkillers at the time and Maddie had shuffled him back home as soon as possible—but he really does.

He hates the tense, anxious set of Eddie’s shoulders, hates the way his smile looks forced—it triggers the same fierce, protective instinct that rears its head whenever he gets between his parents and Maddie, and, well, he did promise, so—

He really doesn’t feel bad for interrupting the very first digs about how seeing Christopher over video isn’t the same as in person, but it’s nice to have the option and technology really is wonderful, Zoom calls must have been a great improvement from your army days, right son with—

“You know, it is wonderful isn’t it?  Did Eddie tell you how amazing Christopher is handling hybrid learning?  It’s really so great how his teachers have adapted, I can’t imagine he would have kept up so well anywhere else.”

Buck smiles brightly as Eddie’s mother’s lips thin.  Hen coughs and takes a long sip of lemonade.  Eddie blinks in surprise from across the table and clears his throat, grasping at the lifeline.

“Yeah, top of his class,” Eddie says.  

“He even has a reading group once a week with some of the other kids in his class that Eddie started to help them stay social.  I know a lot of the other parents appreciate it,” Buck adds, and Eddie rubs at the back of his neck.

“We definitely do,” Hen says, glancing at Eddie’s father as she clarifies, “I have a son Christopher’s age.  They used to play together all the time before all of this.”

“His therapist said kids are resilient, but I wanted to at least try and give him something normal,” Eddie replies, and his mother’s brows raise.

“Christopher is in therapy?”  There’s a note in her tone that makes Eddie tense and Buck’s hackles raise.

“I took him to see someone for a few sessions after Shannon died, mom,” Eddie says evenly.  After the tsunami, Buck fills in for himself.  “It didn’t seem like a bad idea to go back again to make sure he’s okay during a time that’s pretty unprecedented for just about everyone.” 

“Really, I think more parents should send their kids to therapy,” Buck interjects.  “If it’s a feasible option, I can’t see that it’s anything other than great parenting to make sure your kid has the best tools they can to take care of their mental health.”

God knows if he’d gone to therapy a hell of a lot sooner, he might not be struggling through sessions with Dr. Copeland now that he’s nearly thirty, but that’s not really the point.

“Well, some people feel those sorts of things are best taken care of within the family,” Eddie’s mother replies.

“With all due respect, sometimes the family’s way of handling problems just makes things worse,” Buck replies, his smile dropping briefly before he forces it back again.

“This lemonade really is delicious, Mrs. Diaz,” Hen jumps in as Eddie pushes his chair back and starts collecting empty plates.  “I would love to get the recipe before we leave.  If you don’t mind.” 

Startled, the older woman blinks.  “Oh.  Yes, of course.  I’ll write it down for you.”

Buck pushes back his own chair as Hen continues redirecting the conversation and follows Eddie into the kitchen where he finds his best friend gripping the edge of the sink.

“Hey,” he says quietly.  

Eddie looks over his shoulder and exhales heavily.  “Hey.”

“Sorry if I overstepped.”

“You didn’t,” Eddie assures.  “I’m just...exhausted.  And ready to get back on the road and home to my kid.”

He hesitates, then adds, “you know, my sisters would be impressed.  I haven’t seen someone manage our parents like that since they left.  I—thank you.”

“I meant what I said in the truck, Eddie,” Buck replies.  “You’re an amazing father and a great man and—it’s not right that anyone should pretend any different.  So.  I won’t let them.”   

Eddie glances at the hallway.  “Guess we have to go back eventually.  I didn’t quite think this escape plan through.”  

“Once more unto the breach?”  Buck offers.  The smile he gives Eddie is far different from the fake one he’s had up since they arrived, and when Eddie returns it, a spark returning to his eyes, it makes Buck’s stomach flip and his pulse race.

He tries not to think too hard about that.  They still have a long drive ahead of them—plenty of time to save it for later.    

“Yeah.  Yeah, okay.”

***

When they get home, Eddie barely manages to shower and plug in his phone to charge before falling into bed and immediately going to sleep.  When he wakes up, he finally checks his messages and sees several missed calls and texts from his sisters.

So? Sophia asks.  How was it?

<em>You were right</em>, Eddie taps out, and then waits. His phone rings a few seconds later. 

“I’ll save the I told you so in favor of asking if I should get Adriana on the line for an emergency Diaz sibling parental grievance vent session or if I’ll suffice,” Sophia greets. 

“It’s not that serious,” Eddie replies. “I’m okay—a little annoyed still, but...I’m okay.”

He’s not quite sure what compels him to add, “Buck was there. He, uh, he told them off about it a little actually. Politely, but that kind of polite...you know the one.”

“The one that’s basically go fuck yourself with a smile and/or plausible deniability?” Sophia fills in, and Eddie laughs. 

“Yeah, that.” He rubs at the back of his neck and leans back in his chair. “It was—he kept pointing out things about what a great dad I am.”

There’s something about the feeling in his gut that he can’t name. Something he wants to poke at, to explore, but that also makes him wary. Like a yellow caution light—it’s not a do not enter but it’s not risk free either—and he’s not sure whether it’s a risk he can take yet. 

Sophia is quiet for a moment. Then she says, “You are a great dad, Eddie. In spite of them. I’m glad you have other people in your life who recognize that too.  You deserve that.  You deserve to trust that you’re good at things, even if mom and dad say you aren’t.  You deserve to be happy, so...”

The silence that follows feels weighty.  

“What?”  Eddie asks.

“Is Buck—?”  Sophia cuts herself off.  “—nevermind.  Hey, the twins are calling, so I’ll call back again later, okay?  Love you.”

Is Buck what? Eddie wants to ask.  But he swallows it back.

“Love you, too,” he says instead.  “Talk to you later.”

As he hangs up and tosses his phone aside, his mind wanders back to that feeling.  Right up to the edge of warning lights and caution tape.  And Eddie wonders for a moment if he should—

There’s a knock at his door.  

“Dad?  You awake?”

“Yeah, buddy,” he calls back.  “Be right there.”

Later.  He can think about it later.  

***

Eddie figures it out at the worst possible time—in the middle of a five-alarm fire when Buck’s trapped inside and he doesn’t know if—

What do you do when you realize you might be in love with your best friend and they could die?

“We have to go back in there,” he says, before he can think of any reason why he shouldn’t.  “We can’t just leave him, we have to—”

“You’re right,” Bobby interrupts, and the other captain makes a noise of frustration.  

“Captain Nash—”

“You’re right,” Bobby repeats, holding Eddie’s gaze.  “We’re going to get him back.”

Maybe it’s stupid, four trained firefighters diving back into an active blaze in an unstable building with unclear direction, but Eddie can’t regret it when he sees the desperation on Buck’s face.  The relief.  The impending breakdown.

After, he’s assigned to take care of the victim and Buck’s carted off to the hospital to get checked, and Eddie thinks maybe that’s better.  It gives him time, at least.  Time to figure out what to say, what to do, whether he should say or do anything at all.  Part of him doesn’t know.  The rest is screaming I love him, I love him, I love him, wants to get his hands on Buck to verify for himself that he’s fine.  That he’s alive.  That he’s going to stay that way.

But when he gets back to the station, Buck’s parents are there, sitting at the table, and Eddie just—

He thinks about the look on Buck’s face earlier in the shift when he spilled everything, when he explained how he was apparently born just for parts and how he used to throw himself into bad situations because it was the only way to get their attention.

He could ignore them.  But he doesn’t.

“He saved my son, you know,” Eddie says, gripping the top of the staircase as the Buckleys look up.  And it’s probably somewhat insane to keep talking because he knows they don’t even know who he is, but he can’t help it because he just needs them to understand—  “Buck.  He wasn’t even working at the time, he was on medical leave and didn’t know if he would ever be able to be a firefighter again.  But he saved my son in the middle of a tsunami—my then eight-year-old son, and god knows I can’t imagine losing him, I think that would be the worst thing I could possibly go through, and I’m not sure I would survive it, but I didn’t have to because Buck saved him.  And probably twenty other people as well.  That’s just the kind of person he is.  The kind who saves people.”

They don’t say a word, so he keeps going.  “He could have died today.  Because he didn’t want to leave anyone behind.  Because he is a good man, even if he doesn’t ever feel like he’s good enough.  And he hasn’t said a lot about you, but he’s said enough for me to know that while he’s gotten the latter impression from you, he learned the former himself.  He built his life here himself.  So...I don’t know why you’re here, if you want to explain yourselves or just want him to forgive you because you feel guilty, but I just wanted you to know that.  That he’s a good man.  The best man that I know.  And if you’re proud of him for that, he deserves to hear it.  That’s all.”

Eddie walks away then, heart beating too fast, blood rushing in his ears.  

The best man that I know.  And I’m in love with him.

That wasn’t for their ears though.  

It thrums in his veins, the words caught in his throat as he showers, changes, waits for Buck to return to the station.  And when he does, Eddie almost—

But something stops him.  

“You have visitors,” he says instead.  And leaves Buck to it.

Buck finds him in the locker room after.

“So, my parents said they heard stories about me while they were waiting,” he says.  “When I asked them who from, they said they didn’t know, but that I saved their son in a tsunami—and trust me, that got a hell of a lot of questions.”      

Eddie is grateful for the open locker, the excuse to hide his face as he pulls out his street clothes.

“Yeah, well—just because they’re not going to appreciate you doesn’t mean that nobody else does.”

“Eddie.”

Eddie pulls back and takes a breath before looking over at Buck.  There’s a look in Buck’s eyes like he’s trying to piece Eddie together like a puzzle, to work out all the things he hasn’t said.  And Eddie suddenly feels exposed, far more than he had when Buck was sitting in his childhood dining room staring down his own parents.  

“You’re a good man,” Eddie says quietly.  “They should hear that.  And...someone should be willing to defend it.”  

Buck’s quiet for a moment.

“I have to go see Maddie,” he says finally.  “But maybe I could come by later?  And we could...talk?”

“You don’t have to ask, Buck,” Eddie replies.  “You know I—”  I always want you.  “—you’re always welcome.”

Buck watches him in silence for another long moment, then nods.  “Okay.  Okay, I’ll see you later then.”

It’s hours before there’s a knock on the door.  Hours in which Eddie burns dinner and then orders takeout because he’s too busy thinking, hours that he spends trapped in his own head, thinking through all the worst case scenarios, through every what if of how things could go wrong.

But also how they could go right.

And by the time he opens the door, he’s almost ready to just let the words trip off his tongue, but before he can, Buck says—

“Please don’t tell me I’m wrong about this.”

—and kisses him.

Eddie freezes, but before Buck can pull back, he slides a hand around the back of Buck’s neck and kisses him back with everything in him—every bit of thank god you’re alive and I was so afraid and I can’t lose you that he can muster.  By the time Buck pulls away, they’re both breathless. 

“I’m in love with you,” Buck admits.  “I’ve been—”

“Me too,” Eddie replies.  “I thought—I thought you were—”

Buck kisses him again.

“I can’t believe you told off my parents.”

“Well, you told off mine, so—”

Eddie pulls Buck through the door.

“Chris is in his room,” he says quietly.  “But...you should stay for dinner.  And…”

You should stay.  Just stay.

Buck does.  

[butterflyrry]

Hi, I’m coming to you with this one because you are seriously one of the only, if not the only, normal account and person here. Or on most sm platforms. You don’t sexualise him or baby him either. I just needed to share something I have noticed and I know you won’t ridicule it or make me feel like I‘m dumb. So the thing is, everyone is always saying how he’s only writing about woman, love and pussy etc. Not going into details for all of his music but I feel like especially the songs „she“, fine line“ and maybe even „golden“ (probably some others as well) are NOT about a woman at all but more like personification of mental health issues/ depression. The way he’s singing and the lyrics can be falsely interpreted. The pain when he’s singing is real and it’s like he’s singing about depression/mh issues.

For example in „she“:

„She lives in daydreams with me (she)

She's the first one that I see

And I don't know why

I don't know who she is (she, she)

He takes a boat out

Imagines just sailing away (away, away)

And not telling his mates (not telling his mates)

He wouldn't know what to say“

„A woman who's just in his head (just in his head)

And she sleeps in his bed (his bed)

While he plays pretend (pretend)“

-> aka pretending everything is alright like people with mental health issues often do and try to conceal their depression or whatever but still waking up every morning accompanied by the same issues (depression/ mh issues). But this song is clearly talking about the person just wanting to get away (sometimes) and leave everything behind.

In „Fine Line“:

„Put a price on emotion

I'm looking for something to buy

You've got my devotion

But man, I can hate you sometimes

I don't want to fight you

And I don't wanna sleep in the dirt

We'll get the drinks in

So I'll get to thinking of her“

-> he feels like he has two sides: the business guy and the private shy one. And he’s like, he knows what is right business wise („you got my devotion“) but he hates this part of himself sometimes just as much. So he tries to numb the part of himself that allows his depression/mh issues to shine through…

„We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

Test of my patience

There's things that we'll never know

You sunshine, you temptress

My hand's at risk, I fold

Crisp trepidation

I'll try to shake this soon

Spreading you open

Is the only way of knowing you“

-> it’s a fine line between being successful and him being beaten down because of his issues. He tries to get rid of it or suppress it but it’s always coming through… so he’s like pouring his heart (with his therapist etc) and getting to know himself better is the only cure to help him get better and learn to deal with his issues

In „Golden“:

„Don't wanna let you know

I don't wanna be alone

But I, I can feel it take a hold (I can feel it take a hold)

I can feel you take control (I can feel you take control)

Of who I am and all I've ever known

Loving you's the antidote“

-> similar to Fine Line: he feels his mh issues/depression take over at certain times and he feels helpless and so overwhelmed when he’s having an „episode“. So loving and accepting himself instead of fighting (like he said in fine line) is the only antidote to this depressed mood

In „lights up“ as well:

„All the lights couldn't put out the dark

Running through my heart

Lights up and they know who you are

Know who you are

Do you know who you are? (Oh)“

-> all these lights and fame he has still can’t numb the pain he’s feeling (depression/mh issues)��

Hi, honey. Thanks so much for your kind words. I’m glad you trust me enough to share your thoughts.

I agree that many of his songs are layered. On the surface, they can be interpreted one way but often can have a deeper meaning if you really listen. And a lot of them do, at least in my opinion, point to internal struggles of some kind. Mental health, figuring out who he is, and self-acceptance are the themes that stand out to me.

I think you’ve got a very thoughtful point of view on this and knowing Harry, he’d probably love that you’re getting something meaningful from his lyrics.

[ragingbookdragon]

An Unexpected Friendship, But A Friendship Nonetheless

A Jason Todd and Harley Quinn One-Shot (Non-Reader Insert)

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: So I wrote this for @aurailia or @nitebirdie because she drew that wonderful Jason picture for me which you can find right here! I hope you like this, Jess! Love you! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Jason expected a lot of things.

1. Getting yelled at by Bruce for shooting serial murderers and rapists? Check.

2. Getting yelled at by Damian for calling him short? Check.

3. Getting yelled at by Tim for spray painting a billboard of him with penises? Check.

4. Getting yelled at by Dick for picking on his younger brothers? Check.

So really, it was getting yelled at by his family that he expected the most, but all things considered about his life, his expectations weren’t pretty high. He knew he was going to get hurt on patrol, knew was going to spend the rest of his life dealing with the chronic pain and learning how to manage it.

But the one thing Jason never expected, was to end up being friends with Harley Quinn.

And honest to God, the whole friendship only started because the psychiatrist they both went to accidentally scheduled them at the same time. A screw up. A monumental screw up. But it did lead to a revolutionary session where Jason and Harley spent most of their time badgering each other about their habits while the woman merely watched on and scribbled furiously at her notepad.

When they both left, they were in such a heated argument about which way would be better to deal with the Joker. Jason suggested a bullet in the head and Harley suggested cutting off his arms and legs. An excellent suggestion, he had to admit, but nothing would satisfy him more than killing the pasty bastard, and she knew that too.

Surprisingly, when Harley got to her bus stop, she grabbed the front collar of his shirt to keep him in place while she typed her number in his phone. Of course, Jason wasn’t sure what to be more concerned about: the fact that she’d lifted his phone without him knowing, or that she was putting her number in it and telling him to call her when he needed someone to talk to.

He’d responded that he didn’t need another shrink in his head.

She’d given him a pitied look and said it wasn’t for that, but for a friend.

And Jason wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but three weeks after, he was dialing her number at two A.M. just to hear someone’s voice over the deafening silence in his apartment.

They talked for hours about anything and everything. Cars, weapons, games, favorite childhood memories, everything they could think of. And by the time they’d finally talked until their tongues were numb, the sun had started peeking above the buildings in the distance.

He apologized for keeping her all night.

Harley laughed and asked to hang out on patrol come Friday night then hung up.

Jason hadn’t even told her who he was, but low and behold she was doing cartwheels on the roof of the building he was looking out on that night. And it should’ve annoyed him but hell, he’d grown up with Dick—gymnastics was something he was used to being around.

Halfway through their stakeout, she was perched on the side of the ledge, staring at the side of his head, and it shouldn’t’ve unnerved him like it did, but there was something about her bright blue eyes drilling into his brain that made his skin crawl—and not in the good way.

Will you stop boring holes in me, Quinn? He’d grunted. Pay attention.

Why? She’d retorted. Aren’t you tired of doing this? Don’t you wanna go do something fun?

Stopping drug dealers is good for Gotham.

I’m not talking about good for Gotham, Jason. I’m talking about for you.

Harley hauled him up and tugged him along, him barely resisting because good God she was relentless and headstrong when she put her mind to something. So, he let her. And she dragged him to the Bat-Burger down the block and shoved a roll of money towards the cashier, ordering one of everything on the menu.

And Jason found it really odd when he was balancing two trays in his hands while Harley carried the milkshakes over to the booth in the corner where they huddled in and started eating.

She held up a packet in between her fingers. Want some Jokerized seasoning?

He blinked at her and gently took it, sprinkling the red, white, and green flakes over his fries. And he wasn’t offended when she reached over and took one, popping it in her mouth.

It’s terrible to say it, but God I love this shit. She laughed and Jason’s jaw dropped.

I know! He agreed with a grin. I can’t help it! It’s so good!

Her eyes had narrowed at that. You should smile more, Jason. You look normal when you do.

Normal? He repeated.

You look happy. And that’s what you should strive for. She finalized and took the Robin Nuggets from his tray, grinning when he let out a noise of complaint.

When they could finally move after consuming so much food, she tugged him along to the department store that had closed hours before and while Jason wasn’t one to ever care about breaking and entering, he did have a problem with property that wasn’t a center for criminal activity.

Don’t be a baby. She griped and slipped in though one of the vents and Jason merely stared at the opening before he heard her yell to him. Get a move on! We have stuff to do!

Begrudgingly, he squeezed himself into the way too small vent and shimmied after her.

And Harley Quinn must’ve been planning this for a while because when his feet finally hit the floor, he watched as she started disabling security cameras and alarms in the entire building before spinning around and grinning at him.

Mall’s ours. Let’s get it. And she was off.

Bruce was not going to be happy about this but watching her swing that electrified bat at the glass windows, watching them shatter into millions of shards stirred up something devious in him and Harley was cackling when he broke a window with an armored elbow and yanked out the mannequin, tugging the black leather jacket off before shrugging it on.

He posed with his shoulders squared and strong and she clapped her hands. Looks good! Wanna go hit one of the jewelry stores and find some silver earrings to go with it?

Jason nodded and somehow Harley ended up piggybacking on him, giggling profusely when he started belting out Queen at the top of his lungs; she even joined when they got to the operatics.

And somehow, he let her convince him to go and help her raid the major makeup store in the mall. Harley managed to fill three backpacks full of lipsticks, foundations, eye-shadows, and a whole lotta other shit that Jason had no idea what they were for.

How much money do you think all that is? He inquired and she shrugged.

Probably a grand? Maybe two if I’m being honest. This place is a money-sucking-makeup-hog and I’ll be damned if I’m paying a hundred bucks for one set of lipstick and eyeliner.

She turned to him. Anywhere you wanna go? There’s a map out there if you wanna go look.

Jason nodded and walked out of the store while she was busy filling whatever belt pocket wasn’t empty.

After a few minutes, he heard, Found anywhere?

He pointed silently at one of the stores on the brightened map and she squinted, looking it over.

You wanna go there?

Wouldn’t’ve suggested it if I didn’t.

She shrugged and piggybacked him again. Lead the way, Jason.

He hated that the elevators had been out, and while he hadn’t broken a sweat carrying Harley up three flights of immovable stairs, his knees and his back were killing him when they finally got to the store.

He started wandering inside but stopped when she tossed him a duffel bag.

Fill it up with everything you want.

Jason tried to smile but could only manage a grimace as he stepped in and started going up and down the aisles. He wasn’t too picky with his choosing. Books that looked like they’d help manage his pain he shoved in the duffel bag. An electric pulsing gel pad went in too followed by a vibrating roller he could stretch his muscles on.

He was flipping through a book geared towards mindful chronic pain management when he felt her slide next to him.

Finding everything alright?

Mostly…this one is all about conditioning the mind to work with the pain.

Sounds useful. Meditation and mindfulness have been known to work. It’s really all about placebo-ing your mind into it. She looked at him. Jason, do you ever think about going to a physical therapist?

He scoffed. I already go see a shrink. Why would I go see another doctor?

Because your mind is one thing, and your body is another. Her hand was cool when she placed it on his arm. Jason, if you’re in pain, there are people who can help you.

He really wanted to be snarky but all he could do was glare at her. And what about you? Do you go see a doctor for all the things he did to you too?

Harley gazed at him for a long time before answering him firmly. I will if you do. Or… she started, then trailed off and picked up a few books on physical therapy. You can come to the apartment that Ivy and I live in and we can do it together.

And Jason blinked in shock because he’d never met a person who would agree to do something for themselves if he did something for himself, an agreement for dual help.

You’d really do that for me? For you too?

Harley smiled, big and pearly white, red lipstick a bit smeared in the corner from their meal earlier.

We’re both screwed up cause of what he did, Jason. But here’s where we’re different from everyone else.She linked her arm with his, leaned close and murmured. We’re not going to stew in it while healing is in our futures.

You know we’ll never be one hundred percent fixed, right?

It’s not about fixing, Jason. It’s about healing. Healing doesn’t mean you’re fixed. Memories, pain, it’ll always be there and no amount of management for pain or therapy is going to fix that.

She stared up at him. But it will remind you that you’re still you. Even if there’s a few broken pieces here and there. And no one can take that from you. Not even him.

Jason’s lungs were too tight to form words and his eyes stung horribly but he managed to swallow the lump enough to choke out his reply. You’re alright, Harley.

Smiling, she pressed her cheek into his bicep. Call me Harleen, Jason.

Not Harley?

No, not Harley. I only let the ones I care about call me Harleen.

Does this mean we’re friends then?

Oh, this absolutely means we’re friends now. Best friends, in fact. She tugged at his arm. And I think there’s a Wayne Enterprises outlet somewhere in here and I think we should leave Brucie boy a message.

Jason laughed and wiped his eyes, hurrying after her. Can we spray paint dicks everywhere?

Only if I can spray paint boobs.

You’ve got yourself a deal, Harleen.

Jason expected a lot in his life. To be yelled at by his family for being a pain-in-the-ass son and brother, to be injured on the job, to see a therapist every Tuesday and Thursday, to call his family every night to tell them he loved them.

But the one thing he never expected, was to find one of the greatest friends he’d ever had in a woman he had once been on opposite sides with.

He also didn’t expect Batman to come through the window of the outlet in the middle of their spray painting but that’s another story for another time.

[issabangtanfic]

[Jungkook] The Windmill House (Chapter 12)

Synopsis: When your stereotypical Christian Grey meets his not so stereotypical Anna

Masterlist

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

A/N: Feel free to submit a cover! Tell me what you think in my inbox! Enjoy!

- 

Honestly, after seeing Mrs Choi for the first time, I had no idea she would be one of those eccentric client who asks for a ridiculously edgy concept for her home.

It's always the most normal-looking ones...

I look away from the blueprints spread across my desk when I hear my phone buzzing. When I check I see it's a text message from Sidney.

Squidney : Wanna come home for your lunch break? I made lasagna

Her text makes me smile a little. We haven't been talking much ever since that fight after the inauguration party.

She made me feel like I was the unstable kid no one in the family trusts to take care of themselves. And honestly it's probably true that no one trusts me, but I feel like my words are not going to prove anything so I just have been focusing on work and not talking to her very much.

This text is definitely a truce appeal. And I don't like not talking to Sidney, but at the same time I don't know how to feel about the fact that every time I will tell her anything about Mr.Jeon or any other man she will probably disapprove, but not tell me so we don't fight. 

I’m scared of the hypocrisy.

“A windmill house?”

When I look up from my phone, I see Joon who had been brainstorming with me this morning, flipping through my folder.

“Focus.” I tell him, snatching it from his hands before he can find the contract I just printed out for Mr.Jeon.

I don't know how to make a contract so I just used one of our standard ones and put my name on it.

“In London?” He inquiries, sounding excited. I know right?! But I can’t be talking about this with you.

“Namjoon.” I admonish.

“Okay.” He gives up, sliding off my desk and looking back at the blueprints.

“I can give you an alcove, but not windows.” He says, pointing at the kitchen area. Wait what?

“I thought that was doable.” I retort.

“It is, but we’d need to restucture the entiere building. We don’t have the budget nor permission for it.” He explains. Well, he could just have said no when I asked him!

“Okay.” I murmur. So without concave windows. we're going to have to create the roundness inside the apartment.

“Don’t sulk.” I hear Joon coo next to me. 

“I’m not, I’m thinking.” I reply, retracting my pout and releasing my frown.

“Move the pantry here.” I propose, pointing at the space between two windows. One's in the kitchen, the other in the living-room.

“Here?” He doesn't sound convinced.

“We can use the gap between the old and new partitions as storage. And put the alcove here. It’ll be the limit between the kitchen and the living room." I explain. At this point I don't see any other option.

“That I can do. That’s actually a great idea.” Joon nods. Cool!

“Good Job.” He compliments, fist bumping me before exiting my office. Once I'm alone, I quickly text Sidney back.

Me: Lasagna sounds great, syl

I’m back home by 12:30, and when I open the door the delicious smell of cooking meat invades my nostrils. Just as I close the door, Juno trots up to me with her tail wagging happily. 

"Hi Juno!" I beam at her, kneeling to scratch her head. She looks so cute with her little blue bandana around her neck. She barks hello, and I drop a kiss on between her eyes.

When I walk further in, I find Sydney tying her hair up in a bun with a chopstick behind the kitchen counter.  The table is set for two.

"Hi." She smiles at me.

"Mmmmmh... lasagna!" I sing, tossing my bag on the couch. I join her in the kitchen and kneel in front of the oven. "Smells amazing." I observe. The lasgna is almost ready, I can see the meat juices bubbling under the cheese. She really makes the best lasagna.

"Thank you for the food, Sidney." I thank her, standing up and pecking her cheek.

"You're welcome." She hums, and even though we still haven’t talked about our fight, I know I can’t stay mad at her. 

Since everything is set and all that’s missing is the lasagna, we both sit down at the table and open a beer.

"We haven't been hanging out much so this is great." I say after we clink our bottles.

"I know, I wanted to say I'm sorry." She replies, looking at me with sad eyes.

"It's fine, really. I know you're just looking out for me." I counter. It was a silly argument. Ultimately, I understand her. I wish she didn’t think this way, but I understand where this is coming from, and I can’t be expecting anything else from her. Or anyone from my family.

"No, I'm sorry for making you think I don't trust you." She argues. "I'm just scared."

"Listen, I know how similar these two men are. Trust me, it's been weird for me too." I say reassuringly. "But somehow he hasn't made me feel how I'd be feeling before." I add. "Quite the opposite actually."

I frown as the words leave my mouth. It’s only hitting me now that in a way, Mr.Jeon is nothing like the type of man he looks like. I have all these preconceptions about him, and while he still hasn’t proved me wrong, I can’t say I feel like I’m right about him yet.

"And I don't know what to do about it." I mutter to myself, drowning half of my sentence in the neck of my bottle. There’s a moment of silence, where Syd seems to be hesitating to speak.

"I just don't want to lose you again." She admits after a beat. I know everything comes down to that. I reach across the table and grab both of her hands.

"I know. And whatever happens I'm not letting him or anyone pull me away from my family." I affirm, looking straight into her eyes. "It's not happening again." I promise. She smiles and nods, seemingly reassured.

"You know," She trails off, rmoving her hands from mine and resting her chin on her palm. After all this time you've been part of my family, I still didn't think you liked Asians."

"What the hell?” I laugh out loud. This girl!

"I don't know, I just never thought of it." She giggle with me. I shake my head at her as our laughter fades.

"Promise me you're being careful." She demands quietly.

"I am being careful, Sidney." I promise.  "You know, what made me really mad the other day was…”I pause, looking for the right words. "That somehow you think I didn't learn my lesson?"

"No, that's not what I think." She shakes her head vigorously. "I just-" She pauses and thinks for a second. "I trust you, but I worry still." She says.

I’m not expecting any less from her.

"I think..." She trails off, but chokes on her words, and her eyes become shiny with fresh tears. Oh, no!

"Sidney, come on." I scold as she blinks her tears away.

"Shut up, let me talk." She snaps, aborting the waterworks. She sighs deeply, her eyes still very wet. I hate seeing her like this.

"I think seeing you with a man brings back a lot of memories." She explains, her voice still shaking. "Your therapist said your first relationship after B-"

"Woah woah woah, who talked about a relationship?" I stop her dead in her tracks. I understand her worry, but I’m not trying to date anyone. Yes, Mr.Jeon and I are flirting, but we both know what to expect.

"Even a quick shag, she said it's bound to bring back memories." She argues.

"I told you, he still hasn't made me feel like that." I retort.

"I know, and that's great." She says. "But we also had our own trauma that me and your parents and everyone else went through." She argues.

"And obviously it's not as dramatic as it sounds but,” She says, shaking her head. "Knowing that you're potentially seeing someone, it kinda feels like PTSD." She says to me.

"I understand." I reply. I guess, neither me nor my family is prepared for me seeing someone again. After all, it’s something that I hadn’t thought of in a while, not even once.

“And if I feel unprepared for you being out there again, imagine how your parents will react.” Sydney adds.

“I’d rather not.” I reply. Honestly I’d rather stay single.

“It’s going to feel so sudden for them, because they’re not even witnessing the talking stages-“

“I’m not dating this man.” I remind her. I won’t have to introduce anyone to my parents for still a very long time!

“Still.” She retorts. “It’s going to be difficult for them. And they’re probably going to make you feel worse than I did.” She says as a warning. She’s right. My parents will probably reject anyone I bring home out of pure protectiveness, without even trying to get to know them.

“But always out of love for you.” She adds. My mind is reeling. Me getting a boyfriend will be such a headache.

“Let’s postpone the moment as much as possible then.” I sigh, grabbing my beer. “Shagging only.” I toast, and it’s like a promise at this pont. Sydney laughs at me, but still mimics me.

“Shagging only.” She repeats after me.

- 

After a rather calm day at work, I drive down to Mr.Jeon's office in the City. It's a place I've never been to in the 2 years I've been living here in London, because why would I? I earn half of what the worst paid people here make.

My red mini doesn't fit between this tall grey skyscrapers, Mercedes and Audi's around me.

Mr.Jeon told me to park in the underground parking lot after announcing myself to the guard, before going to the first floor to announce myself again. The building is almost empty as it is past working hours.

After getting clearance, I'm escorted by a pretty brunette up to the 17th and last floor. I pass countless empty offices, until my guide stops in front of the sole lit up room. The wall is glass, so I can see about a dozen people inside.

"Mr.Jeon is in a meeting right now." The woman informs me. "You can wait for him right here."

She points at two chairs in the hallway placed by a closed office, right across from the meeting room.

"Thank you." I smile politely at her before taking a seat. The chair happens to be placed near the back of the meeting room, where I finally spot Mr.Jeon, sat down at the end of the table.

The motion of me sitting down catches his attention. He looks outside and spots me. I give him a smile and a slight nod to say hello. He smiles back to me, before reaching in his pocket and pulling his phone out. He starts typing, and I receive a text seconds later.

Mr.Jeon : You're early.

No, he’s late.

Me : I didn't want you to fire me again. 

I type back, press send and look up to dee his reaction. He smirks, looked amused as he types his answer.

Mr.Jeon : I would never. He writes back, followed by:

Mr.Jeon : You look very pretty today.

I purse my lips to stifle the unwanted smile creeping on my face. He's probably looking at me to watch me swoon and melt at his comment, but I won't give him this satisfaction.

When I look up, his eyes aren't on me. He's back into his meeting, looking straight ahead at the different numbers on  screen across the table.

Me : Texting during a meeting? I reply, deciding not to acknowledge the compliment. When he gets the notifications, he makes a quick matter of his response.

Mr.Jeon : Take the compliment. 

Oh this feels like an order. This man would love to boss me around.

Me : I don't like your tone. I retort.

When he sees my text, his head immediately turns to me, his eyebrows raised and his eyes challenging.

I shrug a shoulder, indicating I don't care if he doesn't like what he just read.

The corner of his mouth jerks a little, and he rolls his tongue against his cheek to refrain a smile, before looking back at his phone. I receive a text shortly after.

Mr.Jeon : Take the compliment, please. 

Me: No.

When he gets the text, his eyes shoot up at me, and he slowly shakes his head, seemingly amused.

But he doesn't reply. He instead focuses on the words being said inside the room. I watch as he suddenly frowns, and then start flipping through a pile of paper he has in front of him.

I don't hear what he's saying but he looks confused and slightly annoyed. He tells something to the man presenting, clearly reproachful.

Me: What's the meeting about? I ask out of curiousness. He doesn't look at my text until the issue is settled and his employee gives him a satisfying answer.

I'm already scrolling through my Instagram timeline when I get his response. Three texts in a row.

Mr.Jeon : Boring stuff 

Mr.Jeon : And finances

Mr.Jeon : What are you doing tonight?

Of course he'd ask. I smile at my phone.

Me: I don't think it's any of your business.

Mr.Jeon : Why do you assume I'm asking for unprofessional purposes?

Me: Because you probably are

Mr.Jeon : I wish Maya

Me: It’s Miss Fair for you

Mr.Jeon : Are you staying for dinner, Miss Fair?

Me: I'll have to decline...

I'm only declining to play hard to get. I would love to have dinner with him. Heck, I know I would want to take it even further. But I should be careful. I just promised Sid.

Mr.Jeon sits up first, buttoning his dark blue suit and signaling the end of the meeting. It is now 7:15. Everyone in the meeting follows, gets up and packs up, while Mr.Jeon exits the room first. I rise from my seat.

"Miss Fair." He greets me once he’s at my level.

"Hello, Mr. Jeon." I smile it him, extending my hand.

"Sorry for making you wait." He says to me, taking my hand shanking it.

"No worries." I reply, very well aware of the female employee taking her sweet time exiting the meeting room so she can stare at me. Does everyone in his company want to fuck him? Probably honestly.

“Long day?” I ask him. I can’t imagine having meetings until seven.

“Indeed. And you’ve already made it better.” He replies, successfully earning a chuckle from me.

"I have that effect on people sometimes." I shoot back.

"It's not the only one you have." He concurs. Oh, please. 

“Let me show you to my office.” He invites, before guiding me down the hall to the door at the very end of the corridor.

After tying a code, Mr.Jeon opens the door that leads into his office. 

It's a big, almost empty room. The back wall is entirely glass, making for a sweet landscape painting of downtown London. He has a rather small desk, with a leather ergonomic chair and two other ones placed across from him. As I walk further in, I notice a black leather sofa against the wall near the door, a chest of drawers and storage spaces and a sad single tall plant.

"This place is so sad." The words are out before I can understand how rude they are. I spin around to face Mr.Jeon, who is closing the door behind us. He's frowning at me.

"I'm sorry." I stutter, feeling my cheeks heat up. 

"I mean empty." I correct myself. He pauses for a second, and I believe the quick exhale of air he does after that is a quiet chuckle.

"I don't spend that much time here." He says in a way of explaining. "But I'll be happy to have you work on my office as well." He adds. This man always has his goal in mind.

"I'll think about it." I reply evasively.

“Have a seat.” He invites. I sit my butt on on the chair and watch him walk over to the left side of the room. 

“Would you like something to drink?” He proposes. Thats when I realize the storage spaces I saw where built-in furniture.

“You have a fridge in your office?” I don't know why I'm so amazed.

“I also have a bathroom with a shower and the sofa’s convertible.” He replies. A bathroom?

“You spend nights here?” I ask him.

“Sometimes." He answers simply. Woah. "Wine?” He offers. 

This man is always trying to get me drunk! Or maybe he's just trying to make me stay.

“I just need a quick signature.” I decline politely.

“Where’s the rush? Aren’t you off work?” He retorts.

“I am, but I'm not drinking tonight Mr.Jeon."

"Okay." He doesn't push, and instead closes the fridge and walks back to me. He takes place in his seat while I fish into my bag looking for my folder.

“This is the contract I prepared for you.” I announce once I've found it. I pull it out and place it on the table.

“This is just a standard contract from Union, I just put my name on it.” I explain, flipping through the first four page until I find the one where my payment is mentioned. I flip the document around and slide it across the table to he can read, but he doesn't even look at it, just watches me with intent. I tap down on the page.

“Fifteen percent.” I point out, since it’s the percentage we’ve agreed on. He doesn’t even look down at where I’m pointing at, just keeps staring at me with this cheeky smile of his.

“Where do I sign?” He asks me. This man, I swear. 

I sigh in order to try and hide my amusement.

“I thought you needed to read it through.” I remind him.

“I changed my mind.” He retorts. Oh, I’m sure he hadn’t planned on reading anything in the first place… It’s so annoying that his cheesy tactics still make my stomach feel funny.

I break the eye contact first, looking at the contract while I flip all the pages. “You can sign here, and here.” I indicate him. I watch him as he clicks his pen and scribbles onto the paper. 

“Thank you very much.” I say, grabbing the papers and putting them back in the folder.

“Anything else I can do for you?” He asks as I put back in my purse.

“I think I have everything I need.” I smile at him.

“Can I make a request, then?” He enquires, joining his hands on the table.

“Are you going to ask me to have dinner with you?”

“Will you say yes?”

“No.”

“Then no, that’s not my request.” He brushes off, shrugging. Oh?

“What can I do for you?” I ask him, resting my chin onto my fist.

“Can you answer my question as honestly as possible?” He asks, leaning a little bit closer to me.

“Sure.” I reply, hoping he's not going to be too indiscreet.

"That time when you called me after the inauguration of the Manor." He trails off. Oh, lord.

"What would have happened had I said yes?" He asks me. I take a second to remember the mindset I was in that night.

I was definitely very tipsy, but I also was very horny.

"I think we would've set a date." I reply."And after sobering up I would've chickened out probably." I say, because let's be realistic.

"Mmh..." He nods, still trying to read something in my eyes. Why is he asking me that anyways?

"Do you regret not accepting the offer?" I ask him. He's probably getting impatient. After all the farthest he's ever gone with me is touching my neck.

"I'm wondering what was different that night." He replies. "You were a lot more...open."

Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

"Part of it was because of the alcohol." I argue.

"I figured." He says to me. "I was hoping it wasn't only that." He murmurs a little more quietly.

I stare at him for a second. Why does this small, unused part of my brain think he's actually trying with me?

"Can you answer my question?" I counter, mimicking him and joining my hands.

"Sure." 

"Promise to be honest?"

He smiles a little when I say that, and his gaze grows warm.

"I promise." He murmurs softly.

"How many women are you sleeping with?"

"Zero." He replies immediately. OH SURE!

He doesn't even try to come up with a credible number. Why did I think he would actually tell me the truth in the first place.

I roll my eyes to the heavens, leaning back against my seat in disappointment.

"Maya." He chuckles, pushing himself off of his desk.

"I have been working since seven in the morning. I've had five meetings, no lunch break, and I have a flight tomorrow morning for Dubai where I'll have to meet 13 potential clients in less than four days," He says to me, slowly circling his desk so he's closer to me.

"All while attending boring society functions and pretending I care about how many cars my investors have." He says, leaning against his desk when he's right next to me.

"I don't have time for more than one woman, but most importantly I don't have time for lies." He reassures me. I don't know if I believe that, but that does sound like a busy schedule. I don't see how he could fit multiple women in there. 

"Why waste your precious time on me then?" I sass, because why not? I cross my arms over my chest and lift a challenging eyebrow at him.

"I wouldn't do it if I considered it a waste of my time." He mimics me.

"Then why?" I ask, and he pauses for a second.

"I'm not sure." He says, shrugging. Oh.

There is a knock on the door that interrupts our discussion. Mr.Jeon slips off his desk and goes over to open it. I turn around out of curiosity, to see who’s behind the door. It’s his assistant Jimin.

"Yes, Jimin?" Mr.Jeon says to him. His assistant's eyes quickly scan the background and land on me. He then looks back at Mr.Jeon.

"Am I bothering?" He asks him.

"Be quick." Mr.Jeon replies. I might as well get ready to leave. I was just supposed to get a signature tonight. Chatting and flirting is fun, but it's getting late.

"Paul confirmed eight thirty tonight. Here are your keys." I hear Jimin explain to him while I look away.

"Thank you, Jimin." 

"You're welcome. Goodnight." He says, and just like that he's gone. I get up from my seat and swing my bag over my shoulder.

When I turn around Mr.Jeon is is standing by the open door.

"You're leaving?" He asks me.

"Don't you have a date at eight thirty?" I remind him, joining him at the door. "With Paul?" I tease, making him chuckle.

"A date with Paul?" He laughs, opening the door for me. "He's not really my type." He says as I step out.

"And he's my personal trainer if you're wondering." I hear him add as he closes the door behind us.

"And you were ready to go have dinner with me?" I challenge as we walk down the corridor towards the elevators. 

 "I'll trade a workout with Paul for dinner with you anytime." He says smoothly, looking down at me. I huff out a laugh, shaking my head.

Once we get to the elevators, I press the call button.

"Why are you asking? Have you changed your mind about dinner?" He asks me. 

"Not yet." I reply, turning to face him. He's standing closer to me than I expected.

He lets out a long sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets. I'm feeling playful.

"You could convince me." I tease, shrugging a shoulder. Just as I say these words, the doors to the elevator open.

"Convince you?" He repeats, his interest peaked. We step inside the elevator.

"How long do I have?" He asks me as I lean against the wall, grabbing the railing behind me. He goes to the opposite side to press the basement floor button.

"Just an elevator ride." I challenge just as the doors close on the both of us and the elevator starts moving down. An incredibly sexy smirk creeps across his face when I say that.

"What game are you playing right now, Maya?" He asks, eyes playful, taking a slow step towards me.

"I'm giving you a chance." I shrug, as he slowly approches me. I feel like he's going to jump me any second.

I should get him off his high horses.

"But you have to convince me..." I trail off, catching him trying to pull his hands out of his pockets.

"Without touching me." I murmur, when he's inches away from me. I swallow, all my confidence slowly leaving me. My eyes travel between his eyes and his lips.

Even though I just told him not to touch me, if he kisses me right now, I don't know what I'd do with myself.

"Without touching you." He repeats, looking both confused and amused. I nod, because I don't trust my voice to be steady enough. 

I feel the elevator slow down prematurely, indicating an impromptu stop. Mr.Jeon steps back, and that's when I realize I kind of had stopped breathing.

I straighten my back and turn away from him as the elevator comes to a full stop. The door open onto a man pushing a cleaning cart. A janitor.

After stiff greetings, the employee pushes his cart in, taking place right between me and Mr.Jeon.

Well, there goes whatever was going to happen there.

The ride down is silent, and it seems like the storage room is on the basement floor as well because that's where we all get off.

Mr.Jeon and I let him walk off while we linger in front of the elevators. My mini also happens to be parked right in front of us.

When our eyes finally meet after he's gone, we're both tempted to laugh.

"You failed." I observe, facing him.

"Well, there wasn't much I could do, was there?" He chuckles. True, true. I wish I could know he was going to say... or do to me.

"Maybe next time?" I say, well aware of the inviting tone of my voice.

"Maybe." He nods.

"Have a safe trip." I add over my shoulder, walking over to my car.

"Thank you, Maya. Get home safe." He replies, watching me get in and drive off.

[vintagedolan]

mixtape | track fourteen

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

“Today’s lecture is on end of life. Death. Passing. However you want to refer to it, it’s about the process of a human being who was here, not being here anymore. And it’s particularly about your role in helping them go peacefully.”

Indy swallowed hard. 

The wound was still fresh. It didn’t matter that it was May. Bekah’s funeral could have been just yesterday. She could see the wood grain of the podium she’d delivered the eulogy at in front of her if she closed her eyes for a few seconds too long. 

Instead, she looked forward, found her professor in the front of the lecture hall. Dr. Ginn. A quirky woman, who seemed determined to live up to Indy’s first impression as she climbed onto her desk and sat with her clicker in her hand, legs criss-cross. 

“Now. Doctors and death, they don’t mix. If I had to guess, a doctor’s worst fear is death. They spend their whole lives fighting it. But nurses? We’re different.”

Indy liked the sound of we.

“For us, the priorities shift. As nurses, your job is just as much to push epi as it is to hold someone’s hand. And you are the one that makes that call. You are the last comfort that a lot of people have in their lives. You are the backbone for the family, for the friends who are there to say goodbye. And you are there to make sure your patient goes as peacefully as they can. That is the most important part of your job, hands down. And if that’s not something you can see yourself doing, then you need to rethink and probably change your career.”

The hall was silent apart from the clicking of laptop keys.

“Now. On that lovely note, let’s get started. A code blue, or as I call it, an ‘oh shit’...” 

A message notification appeared on the right corner of Indy’s screen as she opened her notes.

Coffee after class?

Indy smiled, and in lieu of listening for a moment, she let her mind wander back to February...

Grayson was really trying. But it was hard to break habits that he’d been so comfortable with since the first day that he met Indiana. It took so much mental effort to not hold her hand, to not brush her hair behind her ear - so much that Indy nudged him in the side as they walked.

“Where’d you go?”

“Sorry, just thinking.”

She had a good guess of what he was thinking about, or more specifically what he was waiting for.

An answer.

Indy could hear Nicole in her mind, telling her to be careful, to be careful with her heart. She thought of what her mother would say if she met Grayson as she walked beside him on the sidewalk. It kept her mind busy until they got to the familiar door that Grayson pulled open for her. If nothing else made sense, at least there was always Jet’s, with it’s comforting constant vanilla smell and that favorite blue chair that Indy beelined for while Gray went to the counter. 

Patrick looked ready to commit murder when he realized who was ordering, but Indy shot him a smile from across the store that softened him up just enough for Grayson to make it out with their coffees unscathed. 

“So he definitely hates my guts,” Gray mumbled as he sat down, making sure his back was to the bar. 

“He’s a protective one, you know this,” Indy teased as she sipped her coffee. 

“How soon did you start working here again after… after I left.”

“I gave myself a couple days. I definitely wasn’t at my peak on my first day if that’s what you’re asking.” She let out a dry chuckle. 

“Did you start here or the hospital first?”

“Same time. The tech job kinda fell in my lap, and I needed the money for rent. I only really came back here so I could afford therapy. They have a benefits package for all their employees.”

Grayson froze, but his cup quivered in his hand as he shook.

“I… because of…”

“No, no no, not because of you. I mean, I did talk about the stuff going on with her cause we’ve been having sessions but I was planning on going since graduation. I wanted to get a handle on the whole flying thing.”

The reason went unspoken, and Grayson’s hands didn’t stop shaking, though his breathing came a bit easier. 

“Is it going okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, haven’t really been on a plane to test anything out. But I did better than I thought I would when you were flying out, considering. So that’s a good sign. And my therapist is really nice, we’re a pretty good match.” 

“Good. That’s good.” It wasn’t lost on him what it meant that she still cared that he was on a plane. Hope riled in his belly and he beat it back down as best he could. 

There was a lull that was filled with the sounds of coffee beans grinding until Indy spoke up again.

“What have you been up to out in LA?”

Grayson swallowed. He looked at her quickly, her soft smile that made him feel like he could tell her anything, no matter how embarrassing it was.

“Honestly? I did fuck all. I mean, I did the basics I guess, with the companies and stuff. But I kinda let the misery have me. You did a hell of a lot better than me, that’s for damn sure.”

“I wasn’t doing great, believe me.”

“But at least you were trying,” he sighed, running a hand over his face. “And I caused all this, I didn’t really have an excuse.”

“It’s in the past now. Nothing we can do to change it.”

“For the record, I wish I could. More than anything.”

“I know.”

“I really am sorry Dee. I know it’s not enough, but I am.”

“I know that too.”

The next beat of silence was painful, and it took a moment for Grayson to realize that it was now or never. 

“Remember how bad our first date went? How I had that whole plan that just totally didn’t work?”

“The thunderstorm. I remember.” It made her smile, and she could picture every frame of it, from the ocean hallway to the remnants of apple juice on his lips.

“And I told you I was gonna save the real date for later.”

Indy nodded.

“Could we… can I do it now? Can I take you on a date?”

The thought brought butterflies to Indy’s stomach, but she blamed it on the coffee.

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be nice. What did you have in mind?”

“I’ll show you. Technically Jet’s was first on the list anyways, but the next part is a surprise.”

With that, she stood up and followed him out into the street.

They started their walk separate, but it only took a moment for Indy to grab onto Grayson’s hand. He told himself it was out of necessity so they didn’t get split up in a feeble attempt to keep his hopes from getting away from him. Still, his stomach fluttered high above the pavement as they enjoyed the setting sun and willfully ignored the chill of the wind whipping around the buildings of the city. Eventually, his plan unfolded when they reached the entrance of the Highline. It was one of Indy’s favorite places in the city, but she knew she’d never told Grayson that. He just knew her well enough it seemed. 

They walked in peaceful silence for a while, hands squeezed tight against one another’s despite the lull in the foot traffic.

Indy smiled at their luck when they finally found an empty bench with a nice view of the skyline. She tugged Grayson over to it and kept her eyes forward for a moment before she looked over at him. His eyes were on the sky, skin flushed pink from the pigment on the clouds or the chill of the wind, she couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. He was beautiful, and he was hers if she wanted him.

Across the walkway, a young girl walked with her mom, who had a baby carrier strapped to her chest with a head of fuzzy hair just visible within it. The mom was rushing it seemed, and Indy realized the baby was crying loudly, sharp wails that became more audible as they passed by. The girl was dragging a small lion stuffed animal behind her, and Grayson watched as it slipped out of her hands and onto the concrete. 

“Joey! Momma, momma I dropped Joey! Joey!” The girl cried out, but her mom continued to tug her along as she reached back for her lion. 

Grayson was on his feet before Indy could say a word, jogging by and scooping up the small stuffed animal. He politely tapped the mother on the shoulder to get her to stop, then squatted down to the girl.

“Is this Joey?”

She nodded, her eyes brimming with tears as she held her hand out for her toy. He passed it over slowly with a smile.

“Hold on tight to him okay?”

“Okay mister,” she said, voice high and quiet.

And right then, Indy saw everything she ever wanted. She saw her kids, with Grayson’s hair and Grayson’s eyes and Grayson’s laugh, she could see him carrying them up to bed, see him dancing with a little girl standing on his toes in their kitchen somewhere, see him passing her a little stuffed animal. She could see him in every facet of the future she hadn’t let herself imagine since he’d left, but her fantasies came rushing back so fast it felt like she was floating.

As if she could ever want anyone else.

She reached over for his hand as he walked back over, intertwining their fingers and letting him sit down before she finally spoke.

“I love this city. I love this city so much. It’s always been all I really needed.” 

Grayson felt lightheaded as he prepared himself for what she was going to say. 

“I know,” was all he could say.

Indy took a deep breath and turned towards Grayson with a soft smile. She could see the apprehension in his eyes as he waited for her to say something else.

“Did I tell you that Devin came to see me while you were gone?”

He shook his head. 

“He came to check on me, since I wasn’t answering anyone.”

Grayson’s throat was tight as he pictured it in his head, the guilt overwhelming him. He reached over and squeezed her knee - a silent apology. 

“He helped me figure out that I want to go into nursing, helped me get my head on straight.”

“He’s a smart guy,” Grayson said quietly. 

“He told me I need to go for what I want. ‘Ask yourself what you really want the rest of your life to look like, and then do whatever you have to to get there’. That’s what he said. And I thought that’s what I was doing. I was going after a PhD, and my life in New York, and all these things I always wanted. Things I thought were really important. But they aren’t.”

He frowned. “Dee, your dreams are important.” 

“I know, I know, and I’m not saying I’m giving up on that. I just mean my priorities I guess. I had them twisted, and I was missing the most important thing.” 

She smiled his favorite smile as he tried to swallow.

He couldn’t make himself ask, just in case he was wrong, but she put him out of his misery after a moment.

“You. You’re the most important thing.” 

She was suddenly blurry as his eyes filled with tears.

“I’ve never been good at change, but you’re worth it to me. If being with you means spending less time in New York, then it’s worth it. And I’m sorry if I ever made it seem like you weren’t.” She was crying too, and Grayson lifted his free hand to her cheek, wiping each tear with his thumb.

“Never. You never made me feel like that. I was the one that ran, because I never wanted you to feel like you ever had to give up anything for me.” 

“Because you don’t realize that you’re worth giving things up for. You don’t realize how worth loving you are.”

He was fully crying now, a broken laugh making it’s way past his lips.

“Does that mean you still love me?”

She smiled.

“Never stopped.”

And she kissed him, and all was right in the world again for a moment. It didn’t matter that there were people walking by, and that their cheeks were wet from their tears. They were kissing and that meant that everything would be okay.

Any stranger that walked by surely had to feel the relief in the air when they pulled back and realized they could lean right back in without a single care in the world. He let go of her hand only to move it to her other cheek, to hold her steady there cradled in his palms as she kissed him between smiles - his whole world in his hands.

In that moment, he wanted more than anything to love her loud. 

He pulled back just enough to bring her up to her feet and then his arms were wrapped around her waist, spinning her around until she was breathless and the city was a blur behind both their eyes. And for the first time that he could remember in too many years to count, he didn’t care who could hear him, and he didn’t care who was watching. 

“I love you,” he said. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. I missed you.”

Being back in each other’s arms was as easy as breathing. She didn’t stray an inch from his side, soaking in the warmth of his body next to hers as they made their way down from the highline as the city started to light up. By the time they made it home her toes were numb from the cold but her cheeks were still warm, seeing that every time they had to wait for a crosswalk Grayson ducked down to kiss her again.

When they got to the lobby, Grayson squeezed her hand.

“I gotta get something out of the truck, I’ll be right back.”

“You want me to wait here or head on up?”

He pondered it for a minute.

“Wait for me.”

She nodded. She always waited for him, after all. 

He disappeared out of the glass doors at a jog and Indy heard a chuckle from the side of the lobby. She looked over to see the receptionist smiling down at her computer. Indy prided herself on being a very low maintenance tenant, but she still smiled and waved to the woman behind the counter whenever she passed by. Her name tag read Cara in neat white letters. 

“Sorry if we were loud,” Indy said sheepishly. Cara laughed. 

“Just happy to see you smiling that’s all. I’m glad he’s back.”

Indy blushed bright red before she answered. “Yeah. Me too.”

Grayson was slightly winded when he came back, and he was grateful for the long elevator ride as he held the small gift bag in his hand. Indy pretended she didn’t see it like her mom had always taught her to when she received a gift. Still, her eyes flickered to it each time she knew she could get away with it, her curiosity getting the better of her. 

When they finally got inside the apartment he led her over to the living room by the hand and passed her the bag.

“I didn’t know how today was going to go, but I wanted you to have this either way. Figured you could put it on your shelf. When you’re ready.”

Indy pulled the tissue paper out and saw the rose gold edge of a picture frame. She pulled it out and her breath caught in her throat.

“Oh.”

Bekah was smiling. 

It warmed the whole image in a way that had Indy’s eyes burning as she tried to place the day. She was curled up on the bed next to Beks, but she wasn’t looking at the camera. Instead, she was looking at the girl beside her. Her little sister in a way, who was tucked away under her halloween blanket. 

“That’s the night we had the word search tournament, and you both schooled me,” Grayson explained quietly, wrapping an arm around her waist and squeezing at her hip under her sweatshirt. She remembered then, noticed the activity book in the corner of the picture. 

“I didn’t even know you took this.”

“I know you like pictures, I meant to take more of you guys. But I like her smile in this one. Yours too.”

Indy sniffled and leaned her head back onto Grayson’s shoulder. “You’ve made me cry twice now you know.”

He kissed her temple and moved a hand to her forearm.

S-O-R-R-Y

He drew a heart afterwards, and even invisible on her skin she could tell it was lopsided. It made her smile, and she soaked in the feeling of him next to her for a moment before she spun around to kiss him. 

“Thank you,” she whispered against his lips before pulling him in for a tight hug that had her up on her tiptoes when he wrapped her up. They held each other for a moment before Indy got an idea.

“I have something for you too. Wait here.”

Grayson kept his hands on her waist, thumbs rubbing over her skin underneath her sweatshirt. 

“Stay,” he pouted.

“It’ll just take a second, I promise. Just wait here.”

She kissed him quickly just because she could and disappeared into the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind her. 

He lasted about 45 seconds before he was picking at his fingernails. Then he was taking a few steps towards the door, fighting the urge to stick his ear up to it to see if he could get a hint at what she was doing. 

Another minute passed, and he felt like he was going to lose it.

“Indyyyy,” he whined. “You’re killin’ me babe.”

“You’re so dramatic oh my god it’s been like a minute tops.”

“One minute too long,” he teased just in hopes of making her laugh. It warmed his heart to hear it, even muffled through the door. It still felt like an eternity before she finally reappeared with her hands behind her back. 

“You know, you didn’t need to get me anything. Having you back is more than I deserve already.”

Indy’s laugh was louder this time since she was right in front of him.

“Who knew a Jersey boy could be so damn sappy,” she teased. “I don’t have a frame or anything, but here.”

She pulled out a piece of paper and passed it to him quickly, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet while she waited for him to read it. It felt like an eternity while she watched his eyes scan over the letters, seemingly missing the UCLA logo in the top corner.

“Did you… are you reading? Did you see it?”

Grayson looked up with a smile and drew a circle in the air around his face.

“Dyslexic,” he reminded her gently.

She bit her lip and tried her hardest to be patient, waiting until his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Wait… wait. What is this? UCLA? Nursing?” He looked up at her cautiously, trying to keep his excitement in check in case he’d misread. “What is this?”

“Well. There’s a lot of good nursing programs out there. And LA has some top notch hospitals too. Especially pediatric ones. Figured it couldn’t hurt to apply, and they’ve got a pretty good tuition coverage package, it’s close to your house, and-”

Grayson’s lips were on hers, his excitement palpable.

She kissed him back with a smile, relieved to finally tell someone about the grand plan she’d made in her head now that all the pieces had come together. 

“You’re sure?”

Indiana smiled. “You’re worth it. You’re what I want, forever.”

He kissed her again, making up for lost time and telling her everything he couldn’t find the words for. They walked backwards until the back of his legs hit the couch and she ended up crawling onto his lap, beaming down at him when they finally broke apart.

“You’re actually coming to LA. We’re gonna live there.”

“Guess I gotta start apartment shopping,” she mused.

Grayson rolled his eyes. “Shut up and c’mere.” 

He bailed them to the side until Indy was fully on top of him.

“I’ll build you a shelf for our bedroom. Fuck, I’ll build you 50 shelves as soon as we get there. Wait when do classes start, when do you have to move?”

“You’re cute when you’re excited,” she hummed, leaning down to kiss him again. It was slow and purposeful, warm in that familiar way as they remembered each other fully. “We’ll figure it all out,” Indy said eventually, scooting down his torso until her head could rest comfortably on his chest. She listened to his heart beat, a bit fast from either her presence or the coffee, she couldn’t tell. Either way, it was still her favorite sound, and as his hand moved through her hair gently, she knew she’d made the right choice, no matter where it took her. 

3 months later, the place it took her was the passenger seat of Grayson’s brand new tesla, which was delightfully cool despite the warmth of the incoming summer making the LA air dry and warm. Grayson held out a hand for her to pass her backpack, tossing it into the backseat as if it wasn’t weighed down with three textbooks. She pulled the door closed behind her and let her head rest back against the seat for a moment before she turned to him.

“Hi.”

He beamed, leaning over the console to give her a quick kiss. “Hey. Good day?”

“Long day, but yeah, it was fine. Got a shit ton of assignments per usual.”

“Hey, three day weekend next week though, and we’re going to New York. What’d you learn?”

“Oh you know, the usual. Meds, codes, diseases, death. Truly uplifting stuff.”

He reached his hand over to her thigh, rubbing circles with his thumb as his other hand moved the wheel effortlessly, pulling back out onto the road.

“Still want coffee? You didn’t answer.”

“Do I ever say no to coffee?”

“Fair points. Text E squared and see if they want anything.”

“They weren’t home?”

“No, they ran to the store, but they should be back by the time we get there.”

“If Eden went to Target without me I’m gonna be pissed,” Indy mumbled halfheartedly, typing out the text in their group chat quickly. “You know she’s gonna say she wants Jet’s.”

“Believe me I know, just ask Ethan. You’ve created a monster. We’ve gotta start asking Patrick to send beans in bulk or something, we go through them so fast now that she drinks it too.”

Indy just laughed and turned up the radio, unsurprised to hear Cudi from Grayson’s playlist he’d made for their car rides. It was routine now for him to pick her up from class, save her from the hassle of trying to find parking on campus. And it gave them some more alone time considering they lived with Ethan and Eden at the house. So, it wasn’t abnormal for Grayson to happily add 20 minutes to the drive to pick up coffee on the way home. Purdy’s was right down the street after all, and though their lattes weren’t quite as perfect as Jet’s, they held their own. 

“We should buy Patrick some fancy beans somewhere and take them with us next weekend,” Grayson mused. 

“You’re such a suck up, it’s not like he’s giving us free coffee,” Indy laughed. “You’re just still scared of him.”

“Fuck yeah I am! Every time we’ve gone home he looks like he wants to straight up murder me.”

She reached over to hold his cheek for a moment as she bit back her laugh.

“Baby. Patrick can barely lift a 50 pound box of syrup. Believe it or not, I think you could take him.”

He rolled his eyes but the comment wasn’t lost on his ego, especially when his girl leaned over to wrap her arm around his bicep and rest her cheek on it, enjoying the feeling of his bare skin left behind by his tank top. They ordered through the drive thru, surprised when neither Eden or Ethan responded to them. The car was peaceful, even more so when Grayson put it on autopilot and gave Indy more of his attention, trying to ease the stress he could feel coming off of her like it always did when she got out of class. 

“Tell me about your lecture,” he said, hoping talking it through would help her.

She sipped on her coffee as she spoke, starting without many details but eventually going more in depth as she got more excited. It was one of Grayson’s favorite parts of listening to her talk about the things she cared about, and even though half of the information went right over his head he listened intently anyways, tried to take it all in as the car drove them home.

By the time they pulled into the driveway, Indy’s coffee was gone along with her stress, and Grayson knew all the steps to running a code blue. He hopped out first, grabbing her bag from the backseat and slinging it over his shoulder as they headed to the front door.

The first sign that something was different was the quiet of the house. Any other time that E squared was left alone, Grayson and Indy would come back to the speakers blaring, a scary movie on the living room TV, or the distant sound of a headboard knocking against the wall. 

But it was dead silent, and the pair looked at each other before they scanned the room. 

“They’re up to something,” Indy muttered, peaking around the wall to make sure Ethan wasn’t going to scare them. 

“For sure. Something is off with Ethan, just don’t know what it is.”

“Oh, you got a feeling huh?” Indy teased, bumping him with her elbow. He took her waist in his hands and pulled her back against him, making her laugh as he tickled her and buried his face in her neck. He never got tired of having her so close - it was just as intoxicating as the first time. 

“Sorry you don’t understand the twin connection.” 

���Well, use your psychic powers to figure out where the fuck they are then.”

He closed his eyes for dramatic effect, smiling when it got the laugh he wanted out of her. Just as he lifted his fingers to his temple, a bang sounded from the backdoor, making Indy squeal and cling onto Grayson. He went to move her behind him until he saw the culprit - a tennis ball bouncing away across the yard.

“You’re okay, it’s just E,” Grayson breathed, relaxing and moving towards the door to find where his brother was hiding. They walked into the backyard hand in hand, following the sound of music coming from the pool, which was finally finished in the back corner of the property. 

Ethan was at the entrance, his biggest smile on his face as he waited for them to get closer. Impatient as ever, he started walking towards them, meeting them halfway across the grass. 

“Took you guys long enough to get home. We bought new stuff for the pool, come look at it.”

“E, bro, I told you not to buy random shit on your own,” Grayson grumbled, obviously weary of his brother’s interior design skills.

“Eden was with him,” Indy reminded him at a whisper.

“Just come on,” Ethan said, grabbing onto his brother’s hand and starting to drag him towards the pool.

“Jesus bro, calm down.”

Ethan ignored him, looking to make sure Grayson was bringing Indy along too until they made it around the corner where the small pool was in view.

“Surprise!” Ethan beamed, holding his hand out towards the water. Beside it on the concrete were some new additions.

Four loungers, a beautiful teal color with rounded contour that looked perfect for tanning. In fact, Eden was on one of them sprawled out in her bathing suit, and she looked so comfortable that Indy barely noticed the miniature fifth chair next to her at the end of the line up. 

Brain fried from class, it took Indy a moment to piece it together.

5 chairs. 4 people. One smaller than the rest.

“No way,” she gasped, hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Eden no way!”

Indy was already moving towards her best friend before she could get to her feet, ignoring Grayson’s confused calls of “what? huh?” from behind her.

“Yes way,” Eden sniffled, a nervous laugh coming through as she put a hand over her stomach.

“How far along? When did you find out?”

“A couple days ago, we went to the doctor to find out for sure this morning. She said we’re about 7 weeks.”

Indy pulled her in for a hug. 

“Wait. Wait.” Grayson was yelling now, catching on with no doubt a few hints from Ethan. “Holy fuck. Holy fuck, you’re pregnant?! She’s PREGNANT?!” He grabbed his brother’s face with both hands and shook him just barely. 

“I’m gonna be a fucking dad,” Ethan said, and Indy melted when she realized he was about to cry.

“You’re gonna be a fucking dad,” Grayson repeated, shaking him twice more before he pulled him in for the tightest hug Indy had ever seen them share. The girls watched them for a moment before Indy turned her attention back to Eden.

“How are you feeling with all this?”

“Well I’ve just started having morning sickness, my appetite has been super weird, vegan cheese makes me want to straight up die…”

“Right right, but I mean like… mentally. You okay? This is a big change.”

Even just standing there, the boy's excitement was slightly overwhelming, especially with Grayson literally running around yelling about being an uncle. She was sure that Ethan had been excited from the moment of a positive test.

“A very big change that we weren’t really expecting,” Eden said quietly, looking down at her manicured toes. 

“How are you feeling about it?” Indy asked again, reaching out to hold her hand. Eden squeezed tightly.

“Honestly? I’m fucking terrified,” she admitted. “And Ethan’s been great, it’s not that, it’s just… there’s a human in me. Right now. Just chillin’ in there.”

“Yep, there do be a human in there,” Indy laughed at her bluntness. “What are you scared about?”

“Everything. I’m afraid I’m gonna do something that’s gonna hurt them. I don’t know shit about pregnancy, like real pregnancy, and don’t even get me started on trying to push this thing out of me.”

“We’ve got a while to figure all that out. And you aren’t going to do anything that’s going to hurt them. You’re a good mom.”

“Jesus, a mom. Ethan keeps saying that but it sounds different coming from a woman. A fucking mom. You’re gonna have to teach me all the medical stuff… wait actually no I don’t think I even want to know what’s going on in there. I’ll just focus on figuring out how the fuck I’m gonna be a mom.”

“You’ll be great. And you’ll have Ethan too. Those two were pretty much born to be dads,” Indy said. They turned and looked to see Grayson hauling Ethan up to sit on his shoulders before running what she assumed was a victory lap around the backyard.

“Yeah… remind me of that for the next nine months. Regularly.” 

They both started laughing and pulled in for another hug.

“I’m so happy for you,” Indy sighed with the warmest smile, images of baby showers and Eden’s bump and the office as a nursery already spinning through her mind. 

“Love you aunt… Indiana? Indy?”

Indy scrunched her nose. “We’ll have to work on that one,” she teased, taking her hand and leading her over to their boys, who were still somehow yelling.

They both came running, but Grayson was faster, scooping Eden up and spinning her around so fast that Ethan was immediately scolding him, urging him to be careful.

“She’s not that delicate bub, it’s okay,” Indy reassured him, getting up on her tiptoes to give Ethan a hug. He squeezed her tight and whispered in her ear.

“She okay? You guys are the first ones we’ve told.”

“Just a little scared, like all pregnant people are. Totally normal.”

“Good. I’m glad you know, she’s been dying to tell a girl. Only so much I can do.”

She leaned back with a smile. “You’re doing great already.” 

Those words meant more to Ethan than she would ever know, but all he could do was smile and head back over to Eden, a hand across her tummy when she leaned up against his side. 

“We’re gonna tell Li when we’re all home next weekend, but Eden’s parents are coming over for dinner in a little while and we’re gonna tell them now so we can do it in person,” Ethan explained, pressing a kiss to Eden’s hair. 

“We’ll make ourselves scarce for the evening,” Indy offered, sensing the nerves already rising for Eden. She’d have enough of an audience. 

“Okay but first we gotta get a picture of everybody, we’re gonna make an album of telling everybody.” Ethan was already moving as he spoke, setting his phone up on the patio table with the timer on. They all posed with Ethan pointing excitedly to Eden’s non-existent bump before they all headed back inside, still buzzing with excitement. 

Grayson stayed particularly close as they gathered around the island, his hand resting on Indy’s hip as they all settled after a few moments. They all helped to straighten up the house in preparation for Eden’s family’s arrival, and Grayson appeared behind Indiana with a smile as she placed a blanket over the back of the couch.

“Date night?”

Indy had lost count of how many dates they’d been on, but those words never failed to make her stomach swirl.

“What’d you have in mind?”

“Well, I know you said you have homework so… Monty’s, secret beach… with flashcards?”

“You truly know the way to my heart.” She kissed him softly and followed him to their room to change into beach clothes. As she sifted through the drawers, she couldn’t help but look at the shelf. It was bigger than the one she’d had in New York, more sturdy with thicker wood and longer, able to hold more frames. 

That was a good thing, because there had been some new additions. The picture of Nicole, the baby picture of her and Charlie, and the engagement picture with them and Devin all stood tall beside each other. Down the line came the picture of Indy and Grayson at her graduation, the one where he was dipping her back slightly and wearing her cap. Then was Bekah in her hospital bed - it still made Indy’s chest tight when she looked at it. There were two new ones since then - one of the four of them taken by Lisa in front of their tiny homes, and another of all of them at thanksgiving that they’d finally gotten printed.

“We need to get that picture we just took from Ethan, I wanna put it on the shelf.”

“I’m gonna have to build you another shelf,” he teased as he pulled his swim trunks up.

“Think you’ll probably be building stuff for the nursery first.”

“Shut up, do you really think they’ll let me?” His eyes lit up and Indy laughed as she pulled her New York sweatshirt down over her bikini top.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Fuck yeah, that’s gonna be so much fun! What all do you need in a nursery though? I mean a crib, obviously. A dresser? Do you need a dresser for baby clothes or can you just stack them up cause they’re so tiny?”

“We can talk about it while we drive,” Indy redirected him, taking his hand and leading him out of their room, down the hall and out to the car before he could bombard the other couple of the house with questions. 

The excitement was palpable for the whole drive, buzzing within the cab as they made their way to Monty’s, ordered their vegan burgers and raspberry lemonades and snuck away to their secret place on the beach. 

Considering it was a Wednesday evening, they didn’t expect it to be busy, but they were particularly excited to see that it was completely empty apart from a few stray crabs that went scurrying away at the sound of their footsteps. 

Grayson set out the blanket that was always in the back of the tesla for trips like this and Indy set down their bags and drinks, getting everything settled so they could simply sit down and enjoy their meal.

It was peaceful, calm as the ocean lapped up against the sand gently and they filled their tummies. Grayson was done before Indy, per usual, and he basked in the last remnants of the sun while she finished her fries.

“Wanna swim?” Indy asked.

“Thought we were supposed to wait 30 minutes.”

“That’s a myth,” she teased, standing up to her feet and helping him to his. They walked down to the water quickly, gasping a bit at the cold of the water. Still, there was nothing that compared to the feeling of being in the waves, and Indy braved it. Grayson had every muscle tensed against the cold, but he’d follow her anywhere. Soon enough they were up to shoulder height water, kicking gently to get over the waves when they needed to, arms wrapped around each other to keep warm.

“I can’t believe they’re gonna have a kid. Were gonna be Aunt Dee and Uncle Grayson. What the fuck,” Grayson murmured, half distracted by the way the orange of the sky was starting to reflect off of Indy’s eyes. 

“It’s gonna be so much fun to have a little one around. They’re gonna be such good parents.”

“You know who would be even better parents? Us,” he beamed. He looked so beautiful when he smiled, and Indy ran her thumb along his jaw.

“Let me finish school and find a job before you go putting a baby in me,” Indy laughed, but her heart warmed at the thought. She remembered the little girl on the highline, and she wanted it for the two of them.

“You’re done in like a year and a half.”

“Correct,” Indy confirmed it. 

“I always thought I’d be married before I had a kid,” Grayson said, trying to bite back his excitement. 

She wasn’t sure if it was the bliss of the water around them, or the steadiness of his arms, or the fact that she always felt like she was home when she was with him, but in that moment, she knew.

“Okay. Then let’s get married.”

“Are you serious? You aren’t fucking with me? You really wanna get married?”

“Did I ever give you the impression that I didn’t want to marry you someday?” She teased.

Grayson could only laugh, and look up towards the skies and thank whatever angels were listening and watching for all that he’d been given.

He was pretty sure he knew at least three that were there with him. 

“I love you. I love you so fucking much. Don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

Indy kissed him. The feeling was mutual in the most effortless way, and there was a sense of peace that she wasn’t used to in that moment, knowing that everything would somehow work itself out and she would have him with her for the rest of her life. 

And for once, the timeline of her life wasn’t her priority anymore. She didn’t care what date she’d finish school, or when she’d get her job. And she didn’t care when he would propose, or when they’d find out they were having a child of their own. Because in all those moments, whenever they happened, he would be there, and that was all that really mattered at the end of the day. 

They kissed slow, quiet for a while, and as the sun dipped below the horizon Grayson carried her back out onto the sand. They wrapped themselves up in the same towel and found each other’s lips again, warm and familiar and safe as they lost themselves within one another over and over again. 

Her lips were chapped by the time they pulled away, both giddy at the realizations that they’d always know finally being said out loud. 

“How much homework do you have?” 

“Just studying, I can do it in the morning. What’s the plan?” She knew he wouldn’t have asked if there wasn’t something he wanted to do.

“I’ll show you. Just trust me.”

“Okay,” she answered without a second thought. 

Twenty minutes later, with salty hair and big smiles, they pulled up to a tattoo parlor. 

“I thought you got all yours from Alexis now?” 

“Gotta get this one tonight. Special day.” 

Indy looked at the neon signs, and the artwork on the walls through the window. She pondered it for a minute, and something in her told her to go for it.

“I think I’m gonna get one too.”

Grayson perked up at that. “Really?” He knew every inch of her body, knew it would be her first one.

“Something small. Something for Beks.”

He smiled and kissed her temple before he got out to open her door.

Indy went first. A small lightning bolt, like the one on Bekah’s headscarf. And, the thunderstorm of their first date in the city. She got it tucked away behind her ear, in the same place of Grayson’s triple threes. His angel number, and her reminder of both of hers. It didn’t hurt as badly as she thought it would, but Grayson sat beside her anyways, rubbed soothing circles on the back of her hand while he held it.

D-O-I-N-G G-O-O-D he wrote. 

“Thanks,” she smiled softly. “Bet you won’t even flinch during yours.”

“That's the idea. You can study while I get mine, I want it to be a surprise.”

Hers only took a few minutes, and her lecture material was at the back of her mind once the artist cleaned her up and moved over the Grayson. He grabbed his wallet from her backpack where he’d stowed it and Indy took a seat in one of the chairs in the lobby, occasionally turning her head towards the mirror so she could see her new ink. 

Across the shop, Grayson took his shirt off. 

“You can pull the letters from these, and I want it right here.” He passed over the stack of flashcards he’d snagged, sure that they’d be able to find what they needed. 

“Bitch of a spot,” the artist said quietly as he prepped over his ribs, but he just laughed. From the view of Grayson’s covered legs, he wasn’t sure there was any spot too painful for him. 

“She’s worth it,” Grayson said, closing his eyes and waiting. The sting of the needle was familiar, and it did hurt as he moved over each bone. But when he looked in the mirror, it was all worth it. He didn’t even bother putting his shirt on as he paid the artist in cash, including a big tip, and headed out to the lobby. 

Indy was sifting through her bag. 

“Looking for these?” Grayson held up a small stack of flashcards with a devious grin. “Sorry, had to borrow them for my tat.”

Indy’s brows furrowed, and she stood up, moving closer as he lifted his arm and showed her his ribcage.

In small handwriting, her handwriting, was the word ‘forever’.

“Right where you always trace it.”

To her surprise, her eyes started to burn.

“Gray…” She knew how important his tattoos were to him, what each and every one of them meant. 

“Consider it a promise. I’m with you. Forever.”

He ducked down to kiss her, and she smiled against him, hand resting on his torso right below his promise.

She liked the sound of forever.