#the FLIRTING the BANTER I am UNWELL
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What Stede says: What are you gonna do tonight? What Stede means: Hey maybe could we please just keep breathing the same air?
What Ed says: I don't know, maybe I'll just crash in the trees or something. What Ed means: Please don't leave, I just want to be with you.
What Stede says: I could put it to the crew, and if you wanted to stay one more night on the ship... What Stede means: Wanna sleep over on my fancy ship? 👉👈
What Ed says: yes. What Ed means: ❤️❤️❤️❤️YES❤️❤️❤️❤️
#emynn.op#they are SO IN LOVE#I can't STAND IT#the FLIRTING the BANTER I am UNWELL#OFMD#OFMD Spoilers#OFMD S2 Spoilers#Edward Teach#Stede Bonnet#Ed x Stede
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𝑫𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝑻𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉.
𝗧𝗼𝗷𝗶 𝗭𝗲𝗻’i𝗻 𝘅 𝗙𝗲𝗺𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿
His gambling and betting habits often got himself into situations he’d rather not be in, it’s what landed him here at this stupid Halloween party with his utter goof of a girlfriend, but there were plans hiding under that ridiculous outfit.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI + smut + crack + size kink + ghostface! Toji + whip use + switch reader + mean Toji + public sex +
4.7k smut fic • I am unwell • enjoy my terrible humour. Kinktober
Part Two: Maid Zen’in
You thought you were real fucking funny didn’t you? Turning up in that ridiculous outfit.
Gojo was already cackling and elbowing Toji in the side.
“It’s hilarious, you sure got a keeper huh Zen’in?”
Toji rolled his eyes, thick shoulders hunching more and biceps bulging from his arms crossed. His ghostface mask sitting on the side of his head so he could literally drink his way out of this.
“Gotta admit, I still would.”
“Yeah? Feel free.” Toji sneered, trying so hard not to watch you but it was hard not to, you were busting out moves on the dance floor and because of the air filled suit, the moves were impossible to actually see them.
No matter where he looked, he could see the air filled horn bobbing around above the heads of others in the crowd of people at the club, the laser lights illuminating to the music as you danced with no care in the world amongst a group of people.
You said you were coming as a murderous unicorn, which was ridiculous enough, but what you were wearing was anything but fucking murderous, maybe to Toji’s ego and pride. The mane was rainbow, the white blow up body suit you had on filled with air and a pair of heels.
Fucking designer, red bottom strappy heels, in that costume.
“Yo, Zenin, isn’t that your girl?”
“No.” Toji denied it many times this evening, even though those asking knew otherwise.
Gojo cackled again, elbowing Suguru who joined the conversation as he watched you moving on the dance floor having far too much fun for your own good, the air filled suit making you move in a way that was fucking hilarious to the six eyes.
Toji knew why you were doing it, because you’d gotten into a argument this morning and he’d made a snide remark about something he didn’t even remember quite frankly, either way you’d fallen out and had been giving him the cold shoulder all day. Even meeting him here instead of coming with him.
Now though he was glad for the distance, soon as he seen you he couldn’t help but think thank fuck he walked into this club alone. He just had to bear witness to you flirting with the bouncers as they bantered with you about your outfit.
He wore a black tight muscle shirt, with black jeans, a holster on his chest with two big hunting knives either side and a ghost mask.
He looked like a threat, like something suitable for Halloween, you just looked like a girl living her princess dream prancing around like a pony. It was your whole idea coming to this thing in the first place and the only reason he was going was because he lost a bet with you, his damn gambling habit presenting her karma for him finding any opportunity to bet irresistible.
“Eh, she is sure giving it beans with those dance moves.” Satoru couldn’t help himself, his eyes were twinkling with amusement, he couldn’t stop watching you.
“I’m surprised you came, Toji, not usually your kind of thing.” Suguru at least was less bothersome on the topic.
“Oh look she’s on her way over!”
It was embarrassing watching you waddle through the crowds, beaming a smile that was only making his jaw clench and when you eyed him, giving him a flirty look of acknowledgment before changing your pace to a flirty strut, Toji nearly walked away.
“Hey handsome, do you wanna feed the pony?”
Gojo Satoru lost it beside you, bellowing a laugh at your over the top flirtation and even Suguru started to laugh.
“-cause you make me so hooooorny T.”
Your hands lifted to flick the bobbling horn on your head and Toji grabbed his mask pulling it back over his face before storming off to the bar again. Leaving Gojo to strut up to you and smack a hand on your shoulder in some kind of praise, perhaps he should just let you both date.
Perfectly suited for each other and the six eyes did have a thing for you, the sulking for two weeks after Toji first claimed you as his girl was enough of a clue. Let alone the remarks Satoru made towards you, his eyeballing and offering to date you instead of Toji.
But you’d always refused.
And he was kinda glad, as odd as it could be at times you did bring some fun to Toji’s life, a perfectly grown women when needed but that side of you that had zero ability to be embarrassed was troublesome, but at times entertaining. He could banter with you in a way he couldn’t with females usually and you only dished it back.
But the sex, fuckkkk the sex. You were insatiable and you’d even made his eyes almost cross a few times, how you sucked his cock was unworldly and lucky for him you couldn’t get enough of doing it.
Toji took a seat at the bar, ordering a strong whiskey to try give him some hope on getting through this evening with some sanity, how long he was sat there he didn’t know, but being alone only gave the opportunity for girls to come up to him.
So you wanted to play huh?
He could play, perhaps make you regret trying to show him up like that.
He entertained it, a girl in an angle costume coming up, her tits out held by some flimsy looking material that Toji could so easily rip from her, some skimpy white skirt that was hiding nothing, white stockings on show and pretty blonde hair.
She wasn’t exactly horrifying, but this was what girls went for this time of year, not like he was complaining -he was a guy after all.
She twirled her finger around a strand of hair, battering her eye lashes at him.
“You’re like, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh yeah?” Toji smirked, turning in his seat to face her, giving her the once over, “—how so?”
Toji played it clever, soaking up the praise instead of giving it just because if you were looking you’d be none the wiser. As much of a woman jumper as he used to be Toji was loyal when treated well, and treated well by you he certainly was.
The blonde reached out to trace a finger on his muscles, dragging an acrylic nail down the line between his bicep.
“You’re huge-“
“So I’ve been told,”
“Anything else big about you?”
Toji chuckled tilting his head to her when she bravely gripped his arm and squeezing the bicep, just as he was about to say that’s enough a riding crop slammed down between them, hitting the bar with enough force everyone sat there spun around.
“Hey angel face, he flexing his muscles for you hmm? He’s such a show off, thought I trained him better than that.”
Toji knew that tone, the kind that made him lay back let you ride him until you were spent, the kind that kinda made him melt a little inside for you —not like you’d ever, in a million fucking years, know that.
Green eyes turned to meet you, expecting to see you in that ridiculous blow up unicorn suit, instead it was gone and suddenly he was wondering where the hell it was so he could put it back on you to stop the amount of looks you were getting.
Stood there with the lights dancing around you in leather chaps with studs, a leather bra with a body harnesses a fucking pink gag horse bit dangling down your neck resting between your collar bones and bright red lipstick, hair into a clean, high ponytail with a crop in hand.
And he knew his dick was gonna be under those red bottomed heels this evening.
You had a black, glittery horn on your head that had red glitter spilling down it that imitated blood, along with make up running down your forehead in red glitter.
This was your damn take on a murderous unicorn?
The blonde went to open her mouth, but you beat her to it, pressing the crop under her chin and closing it for her.
“Shh, this guy-“ you stepped forward and Toji reached for you, standing behind you as he pulled you in, a large hand made its way around your neck to grip it from behind “-he doesn’t fuck angels, he’s too corrupt for that.”
The smirk that spread over his face was nasty, tilting your head back into his chest and pressing his lips to yours, going straight for your bottom lip with his teeth and pulling.
He felt you moan against his tongue as it swiped your bottom lip between his teeth.
“Playin’ a dangerous game comin’ out like this doll,”
“Yeah?”
Toji hummed whilst kissing you upside down again,
“Yeah, s’get outta here-“
“Or-“ you span around in his arms, leaned up to him and brushed your lips against his, “-we can use the private room back there for VIP.”
Toji rose an eyebrow at you, you only grinning at him and grabbing his hand to lead the way through the groups of people until you both reached a gold door, the bouncer there nodded at you and Toji rose an eyebrow.
Since when did you know people on that level to only be acknowledged through nodding?
Your back hit the door the moment it shut and Toji was on you within seconds, hand gripping your neck and squeezes it in the way he knew made your cunt clench, choking you lightly whilst tilting your head up to him feeling your little moan on his palm against your throat.
“What you got goin’ on in that head of yours sweetheart? I ain’t stupid.”
You shrugged, “-nothing really, but I am wondering if you wanna make a lil bet again.”
Toji rose an eyebrow, leaning back slightly to look around the room, it wasn’t huge, the seats were black trimmed with gold in a booth shape with a small table off to the side.
“Keep talkin’”
“I’m thinking, you let me take control and if you lose it I win.”
Toji snorted a laugh, “-you won’t even get my cock in that tight lil cunt without my help doll, you think you’re gonna manage with me just sitting back?”
“If I need your help, then I lose.”
He released you and stepped back until he let himself slump back onto the booth, spreading his legs and his arms across the top of the booth, one hand reaching down to unbuckle his belt and undo the button to his jeans, pulling the zipper down. His skin tight top riding up showing the lines of his V that lead to a cock too big for most girls to handle. The black pubic trail of hair also leading a line down into his boxers.
“C’mon then sweetheart, it’s all yours.”
He was snide, cocky with how he was sat spread out and you smirked at him stepping forwards, pressing the crop under his chin and tilting it up to you looking down on him, his green eyes glazed with sly intention, his smirk only aiding it.
“You’re not allowed to touch me, clear?”
Toji rolled his eyes and shrugged “-whatever you say, boss. You’ll be begin’ for me too long before I need to.”
Toji’s eyes widened when you actually smacked the crop across his face, anger filtered through him briefly at you having the fucking balls to even think you’d get away with it, but when he looked back at you, eyes half hooded with some kind of pissed off look he only felt his cock throb. The leather you wore was glistening in the low lights, hugging every curve and pressing your tits up perfectly.
“Less snark, Zen’in, it’s boring me.”
Holy shit —fuck you were still surprising him 2 years into this damn relationship, how the hell had you hidden this from him? You had attitude, that was never hidden and fucking it outta you was borderline impossible, but it didn’t mean keeping you fucked dumb didn’t work until you got bratty again.
He glared at you, hands balling into fists and his jaw clenched, the red welt forming on his cheek as he held eyes with you.
“Don’t push it,”
“I plan to, Toji, or do you feel yourself losing patience already? Might be an easy win for me after all.”
You litt-
Toji groaned, his stomach tensing as the ball of your foot pressed into his semi hard dick only encourage it to harden under it, his hips rolled and his head tilted back, keeping eyes with you as you watched his reaction.
“Been thinking about sucking you off all night, my mouths watering over it T.”
“As said doll, it’s all yours.”
You hummed and stepped forward, pulling his jeans down just enough to free his dick as it slapped against his stomach, pre drooling from the tip into the deep lines of his six pack.
“You’re drooling already, Toji.”
He watched as you lowered yourself between his legs, bending forward to run your tongue between the lines of his six pack collecting pre on your tongue, teasingly running it around the head of his dick not touching it directly, only grazing the tip with the underside of your tongue. Your eyes never leaving his as your placed your hands on his thighs.
“That’s it-“ Toji sucked in air, his muscles tensing under your tongue as he watched you, eyes focused on your tongue glistening with drool and pre.
You pressed a kiss to the underside of his head, peppering them down the length of him before your tongue pressed to the base and ran up to the tip again, letting a glob of spit drip to cover it. His cock flexed against his stomach, smearing the spit along his skin as it rested heavy on his stomach.
His eyes rolled back when you finally wrapped your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks and sucking before bobbing your head with your hand twisting, keeping to the top of his dick and moving your tongue around the head. His hips bucked, fingers digging into the booths padding to stop himself reaching out, cause all he wanted was to grip your hair and fuck your face like a fleshlight. See how watery your eyes got, watch the drool spilling down your chin, see how well your throat bulged out from his dick, pressing his hand against your throat to feel himself fucking you.
But he was a man of strong will, even if his toes were curling in his shoes as you worked his cock like a dream, the squelching of your mouth as spit started to dribble down his dick. You kept going in the same pattern, twisting your hand when it separated from your mouth bobbing and sucking him in, your tongue swirling around this head giving him constant friction.
“Gonna suck the cum outta me? Fuck -hah- shit doll, that your fucking plan?”
He felt you laugh on him, pulling away with a pop and drool down your cheeks, red lip stick smeared on your lips and his dick.
Your eyes all glassy and panting lightly looking at him with fuck me eyes and his heart thumped against his rib cage, kicking away in a flutter that only pissed him off. He knew he liked you, way too fucking much for his own sanity and it pissed him off that you got under his skin in a way he couldn’t get enough of.
But how you looked right now? Between his thick thighs, running your tongue up and down his big cock that looked so huge in your hands, staring at him with eyes like that, willingly making a mess of yourself on him?
Fuck it took everything in him to not reach out and kiss you stupid, to bury his cock into you and let you cum over and over on him in a love language only he could give.
You didn’t reply, instead you stood and placed your feet on the booth seat either side of him, then lifting your right to place beside his head, hovering your cunt over him as you ran two fingers over your clothed pussy.
“No Toji, that’s not my plan.”
He groaned when you pushed the material aside, letting him view your glistening cunt as it drooled with slick. He was half expecting you to let him touch you at this point, his cock flexing against his stomach as his own pre started to leak into his muscle lines again. Watching as one hand spread yourself open for him, the other rolling around your clit.
It was cruel how you moaned above him, it was mean as you pressed two fingers into your tight hole letting him watch you spread yourself open for him.
“You’re clenching around those fingers, they ain’t deep enough are they sweetheart? Trying to act like a little whore but you can’t fuck yourself like that, y’need me, so why don’t you just give in?”
Toji reached for his own cock, wrapping a fist around himself slowly stroking.
“-sit on my face, get that other leg up and put that pussy where it it belongs hmm? I’ll get you cummin’ how you like.”
Pulling your fingers back covered in slick you toyed with your clit again, hips rolling as you lowered yourself to his face.
“S’it baby, she needs my mouth hmm? I know what she needs-“
“M’gonna cum-“ Toji hid his sneer as he watched you pick up your pace, rolling your clit around your slick covered fingers and he could see your little hole clenching around nothing, fluttering as you came.
His nice attitude left him, sneering an insult under his breath as you cummed over his face, thinking he almost had you breaking the bet by caving first.
“Open your mouth T, I’ll let you catch it,”
Green eyes focused on the clear slick starting to drool from your fluttering hole, a link forming and he held his tongue out, letting the sweetness of you coat it.
“You’re so fucking hot, honestly.” Toji hummed at your praise and taste of you, your foot retreated from besides his head, falling to your knees either side of him, eyes all glassy and pretty, pink dusting across your cheeks.
Your hand reached down to grab his dick from his own hands, wrapping a hand around him and rubbing his head at your hole.
“You’re brave but you ain’t doin’ that without me. No fucking chance.”
You hummed and let your weight start to drop onto him, the stretch already too much as his thick head pushed through the tight ring of muscle, both moaning at the feel of it, your warmth starting to swallow him in.
He gave an airy chuckle when he seen you panting, struggling to take him when you got half way.
“What’s wrong brat? Thought you had this, you look like you’re struggling to me.”
You glared at him, reaching up and turning the ghost face mask on the side of his head to cover him completely.
“Shut up you asshole,”
His patience was dancing on thin ice, the need to thrust into you and bury you to hilt, to bully the rest of his thick cock into you was making his nerves jump. As much as he tried to ignore the need to grip your hips and slam into you, to fuck you until you seen stars and begged him to stop was overwhelming.
However when you slammed yourself down onto him, his head tilted back.
“Ah fuck- you little brat-“
Your hands gripped his shoulders and you spread your knees further from him, already feeling so full. You looked up only to see him tilting his head back, his breathing picking up and his hips stuttering under you fighting the instinct to move.
You couldn’t see his face, covered by the ghost face mask and it only made it hotter. Your hands gripped the material either side of it and tilted him to look at you.
When you started to bounce on him, your walls tightened around him still trying to adjust, his eyes rolled back under the mask only opening again to see you above him looking fucked out.
“Shit, sweetheart y-you’re, fuck me, shit, y’fucking yourself dumb on this fat dick?”
You nodded dumbly at him giving him a panty ‘uh-huh’ as you sank yourself down on him again.
“Harder, if you’re gonna fuck this dick do it harder, I wanna see you strugglin’ on it.”
His hands were flexing on the booth, he started to fidget under you as you kept a pace that was no where close to getting you both to cum, he wasn’t a fool, he ever was a stupid man…
He knew you were doing it to break him first and when that thought crept into his head about giving in, he couldn’t ignore it.
You felt wet, you sounded soaking and he could feel your slick drooling down past his balls. Fucking him with this mask on like he was some toy for you was in fucking credible.
To top it all off you had the balls to smack him with that whip, the boss him around which no one done, and you were both in public.
He wanted your mouth, fuck he wanted your tongue down his throat as you whimpered into him.
He was never one who bothered about consequences, never one to care about repercussions.
“You never told me -hah- you never said what the loser has to do.”
“Maid outfit-“ you painted out, “-fucking you in this mask is so hot, fuck your dick is made f’me T.”
“Maid outfit? Loser wears one?”
You nodded dumbly and he chuckled, that’s it?
“That’s it? Fuck this-“
Toji reached up, tearing the mask off and throwing it across the booth, his large hands reaching down to grab your ass painfully.
“You ain’t walkin’ outta here pretty girl, I ain’t carrying you either-“ your eyes widened as he pulled from you , his tip just stretching you out as a wild smirk blew across his face, his eyes almost dots as he looked at you like he was about to kill you “-you little brat, I’m gonna watch you struggle then I’m gonna fuck you even harder when we get home.”
He seen your face fall, the regret perhaps dancing across your eyes and he soaked it up knowing it would fade by tomorrow. Knowing you’d be your cocky self all over again.
And he couldn’t wait.
His pace was brutal, hips slapping up into you with such force your skin was starting to sting, the leather of your outside screeching with each movement.
“Kiss, now-“ his demand was through panting, his breathing heavy as he worked his body to bully his cock inside of you, you gave him wanted he wanted as your whimpers and moans vibrated against his tongue. He swallowed each noise, his hands bruising on your ass cheeks as he held onto them for life.
Then you made a noise he’d never heard, almost a sob that mixed with a moan.
“Atta girl, keep making that noise-“ your arms wrapped around his neck, burying your face into it as your body stuttered and he knew he hit the place he was looking for, “-there it is, gonna cum for me you little slut? Can feel her squeezing me, she’s so tight”
He moaned into your ear, teeth biting at it as he coaxed you into coming with harsh words.
“M’cumming, holy shit Toji-Toji slow down, fuck m’gonna cum!”
“Do it then, I want her sucking the cum outta me, gonna have it drooling down your legs when we get outta here, whole clubs gonna see you’re a slut.”
The moan you gave was pained, frustrated as you danced on the edge of cumming, that coil so tight in your stomach, feeling like you were gonna snap but it wasn’t happening.
“Fuck!” You growled out in frustration into his neck, shifting yourself against him and he chuckled.
“She’s as stubborn as you huh?” He wrapped an arm around you, turning you so your back landed on the booth seat and his other hand grabbed the mask he flung off, pulling it back over his head as he towered over you.
“Look at you, tiny, pathetic little thing- look so dumb all cock drunk,” he rotated his cock inside you, hips moving in a circle as he looked down on you in the ghost mask.
Your hands reaching up to grip his biceps that bulged from holding his weight above you and he looked huge, made you feel like nothing under him. The low light of the room almost blocked out by his shoulders.
He started to rut into you, pressing a thumb to your clit and rolling rough circles around it. A strangled noise leaving you as your hips bucked up, tears welling in your eyes as your body started to shake under him.
“It’s too much, T-Toji it’s too much.”
“Yeah? Deal with it, I’m gonna cum soon and I don’t give a shit if you don’t,”
The panic on your face was enough to make him smirk under the mask, rolling his thumb around your clit harshly knowing it would be too much to actually make you cum.
“I want to,” your head rolled back and tears finally fell from your eyes in frustration, fucked beyond the point of cumming for him as you felt that knot slipping away left with raw, frustrating over stimulation from his rough handling.
“Then cum like a slut, you know how to do it.”
He moved his thumb, slowing his pace to harder thrusts that made your body jolt, tits bounce with each delayed, wet plap, plap, plap of his dick bullying into you.
When your eyes glazed over, your body relaxed under him he knew he had you were he wanted, Toji dropped to his elbows, leaning down to your ear as his hips worked to keep you both going.
“Baby-“ he cooed into you, voice slightly muffled under the mask, “-you feel good, pussy made f’me yeah?”
He felt you nod dumbly, your moans jolted by his hips.
“And dicks made for ya, sweetheart, she’s sucking me in so well.”
He knew he was contradicting himself making a fucking idiot out of his previous taunting that he’d cum without you, but seeing you actually frustrated, tears spilling down and you struggled made the little empathy he had in life flicker.
He kept his short punches, his lower stomach rubbing against your clit and keeping his cock punching that spot inside you until you cried out, suddenly cumming around him violently. Clinging onto him for dear life and sobbing after, pushing his mask off again so you could look at him.
“Damn girl, you’re -“ he groaned at your face, absolutely ruined from his rough treatment, your lipstick smeared, eyeliner smudged with drool and tears.
Your walls fluttering around him brought him with you, curling himself over you until he folded you up, burying himself balls deep as he emptied into you, stuttering, airy curses leaving him as he convulsed against you, hips jolting as your walls pressed around him swimming his dick in cum.
You were slack under him and his energy spent as he almost fell into you, burying his face into your neck as your panting filled the room.
Bodies aching as you pulled apart, Toji sitting back on the booth and leaning his head back, chest still heaving to bring air into his lungs.
He side glanced at you, looking at your pretty face before moving down to your swollen hole leaking cum from it. Toji reached out and patted your public bone.
“She takes me like a champ-“
You deadpanned, before sitting up onto your elbows still recovering with a breathy voice.
“She doesn’t have a choice, you monster.”
Your foot playfully pushed him and he grabbed it, bringing it up to his head so he could kiss the inside of your ankle.
“Seem to be dealin’ with it just fine,”
“So, you liked the unicorn thing?”
“No. Don’t ever do it again, I’ll leave your ass and Gojo can have you.”
“Really? Cause I was thinking of a new theme song, it’s a twist on the original-“
“Don’t sing it,”
“My lil pony, you wanna bone me~?“
©pharix/lonelystarrs 2023 permission is not given to repost, translate or post anywhere else.
If you want Toji in the maid outfit here’s the link to the next part : Maid Zen’in
#jjk fanfic#jjk x you#jjk smut#toji smut#toji x reader#toji fushiguro smut#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x you#kinktober jjk#kinktober toji#jjk fluff#jjk crack#jjk fanfiction#jjk toji#dilf toji#toji fushiguro fluff#jjk fushiguro#fushiguro toji#toji zenin#Zen’in toji
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Let’s hear about Barry for your headcanon meme
(Ask game here)
1: sexuality headcanon - Friendsexual. No for real anyone who he considers a friend is allowed to french kiss him, he won't say no. This is not even a headcanon btw, it's just that only girls did this so far because DC is homophobic and won't make Barry canonically queer
2: otp - Eobarry. I love Newsflash and I will ship Barry with lots of people but, Eobarry. I am so unwell about them.
3: brotp - Brubarry! Their friendship is so cute. I love their banter and the sweet way Barry teases him.
4: notp - I don't think I have any? Barry is very shippable. I'm not the biggest fan of Barry/Meena but it's not a notp anyway.
5: first headcanon that pops into my head - He knows full well that Eobard is the one who brought him back to life after all those years, he just pretends not to because he can't just say to people that Eobard is his lightning rod now can he.
6: favorite line from this character - Again just going for a line I really like.
Panels from Running Scared by Joshua Williamson
Every second is a gift! (the other person is Eobard btw, they're both young and Eobard isn't the Reverse Flash yet)
7: one way in which I relate to this character - the flirting obliviousness, I get it Barry I really do
8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character - Whatever the fuck they did with that movie
9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave? - The most cinnamon to ever roll!
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My own brain is calling me out for how desperate I am becoming for affection 🤣😭😭
I mean, why else would I have a dream where I went out to see a show, and started talking to three guys, a bit of flirting but mostly banter, and they actually noticed me talking to each other and got jealous
(One of them even got a bit possessive and when i asked if i couldn't just talk to other guys was like "not when you're mine" 🥴 okay sir)
BUT THEN i was in class and it turned out i was grouped together with all three of them for an assignment and i went to check my phone and i was added into a groupchat that was called something like [Z is hot] and they were openly talking about me and 😮💨
I am unwell
#but even in my dreams#i wont be getting kissed#that possessive one was this close to it#but then just kind of leaned over to the side to whisper something#i dont remember#but i guess my brain was like No not him he cannot ve your first#bc for some reason the face claim was some dude from my high school who i was def not into#also lol at how none of them have names#or at least not memorable at all#z rants#z's dream journal#dream journal#18-07-2023
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9 people you would like to get to know better
Tagged by @renlyslittlerose, apologies for the delay, this has been sitting in my drafts for ages now 😅
1. 3 ships:
Obikin - I. Am. Obsessed. With these two idiots. My current hyperfixation with Obikin started in the run up to the Kenobi series when I went back and rewatched the prequels and TCW (weirdly Obikin as a ship didn't register for my poor oblivious bisexual arse when the prequels came out). They're equals, more intimate than lovers, two halves of a whole warrior, they spend a lot of their time together bickering like an old married couple. Ahsoka refers to them as her parents in TCW season 7. Where there is one, the other is not far behind. I'm sure it was @/gffa who wrote a meta about how (whether you view their relationship as platonic or romantic) Obi-Wan Kenobi IS the love of Anakin Skywalker's life. To me they are the Star Wars ride or die. They ended tragically in life (in canon). They lived happily ever after as force ghosts. The love was there... 😭. I am Unwell about them.
Ineffable Husbands/Wives/Spouses - An Angel and a Demon. Hereditary Enemies. Unapologetically queer. The Autistic + ADHD ship. The angel is a fussy hedonist who will cut a bitch if they damage his books. The demon is genderfluid and serves cunt on a regular basis (especially at the crucifixion). 6000 glorious, frustrating years of pining. Bad. At. Their. Jobs. Just fuckin' kiss already (heheh, yeah that didn't work out so well 😅).
Thoschei - The Doctor and The Master. They were never married. They're divorced. They're childhood sweethearts. They've killed each other at least twice. They change genders like most people change socks. They should've fucked (you can tell I have a thing for enemies to lovers, right? 🤣). They've both destroyed their own civilisation at least once. Whenever The Master shows up you never know if they're gonna kill each other or fuck nasty (or both). For once brief shining moment (Twelve x Missy, World Enough And Time) they could've been more. Again, they have this tragic thread of "it shouldn't have ended like this, but it did". Unlikely to have a happy ending ever (unless through the pages of fanfic).
Special shout out to: Rebelcaptain (my other SW ride or die), Mulder x Scully (see below), Ventrobi (what? I'm a multishipper, and these two are constantly flirting every time they fight. They totally fucked after Revenge), Blackbonnet, and Catradora.
2. first ever ship:
Mulder and Scully - I shipped these two before I even knew what shipping culture and fandom was. I remember 10 y/o me watching the first episode of The X Files (and being shit scared to fall asleep for months because I was scared aliens were gonna abduct me lol 👽) and just being hooked on the series. And as the series progressed I became hooked on these two and their partnership. My OG ride or die ship, they are the reason that most of my other ships have that ride or die, banter and bicker like an old married couple, best friends, equals, you cannot find one without the other, no one understands me like this person understands me vibe.
3. last song:
Cat Pierce - You Belong To Me
4. last movie:
Barbie.
Finally watched it last night. Currently have I'm Just Ken stuck in my head 💖
5. currently reading:
Dune by Frank Herbert.
I am. Obsessed. After watching the 2021 film - it's probably my most watched comfort film atm.
6. currently watching:
Loki, GBBO, Strictly Come Dancing, Ahsoka (rewatch), SW Prequels. After question 2 I'm wondering if it's time for an X Files rewatch.
7. currently consuming:
Mint and lime iced green tea (tastes better than it sounds) and rice pudding.
8. currently craving: Chicken noodle soup from my local Chinese takeaway.
I tag: anyone who wants to have at it because I am crap at the tagging lol 😆💖
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Okay I lied. Here's one more because I can't help myself with these wonderful asks for this event. Bear with me please. <3
🌷 not a ghost but with a little twist
I don't know if this is allowed (but since you said I'm loki in your cym ask, I might as well act like it👀) - I don't write fics but I do give reviews, so I was thinking to link my favourite Sirius Black fic written by a really good friend here. It's worth it I promise.
@bookshelf-dust is worth the hype and I want to talk to you about Sirius Black of course
A masterpiece - here you go
If you're okay with this if course<33
reading + reacting to other writers' fics // love and mandrakes - sirius black
a little twist 👀 i like that
honestly, i don't care whether it's your own fic or not, because just reading other people's work makes me happy <3
live reaction:
i’m already a sucker for a fic that happens during herbology class, you you got me there
i love professor sprout omg
i would be so sad if i killed a plant in her class istg
there he is!! my boy!! always with the theatrical entrance, as he should!! i love him too!!
i would kill to be in professor sprout’s class
i see what you’re trying to do mr. black
now i can’t get the picture of remus piercing a shitfaced siruis in the middle of break while regulus stands there and watches
i’m imagining remus tossing sanitizing cloths at sirius whenever it is time to clean the piercing
wow, you just summarized my entire time at high school when it came to group projects
i love sirius
did i already mention that?
he’s just great
and an ass, but in a good way
teamwork makes the dream work ohooo
simp sirius is the best sirius
queen mention queen mention queen mention-
OMG A LITTLE SHOP OF HORROS REFERENCE IM STFFGHGSDSHJ GOING FERAL
sirius would fucking love a little shop of horrors
(also, the big brain move of using a musical that features
teasing = flirting
CO-PARENTING A MANDRAKE OMFG I AM UNWELL
GENIUS
the mandrake is a child of divorce send tweet
forest green is my favourite colour omg
REMUS MY FAVOURITE BOY THERE YOU ARE
oh i can already tell everything that relates to remus is going to be my favourite part
early retirement i am crying
remus being overdramatic
he’s just like me fr
we love to see it
bisexual sirius confirmed
remus is so done with them hjgsdlzg
i love him
help their banter makes my day
wolfstar besties, my heart <3
“look at this fucker” SIRIUS THAT’S YOUR CHILD
friend ;))))
simp sirius part i lost count
remussssss <333
now both are just simping huh
being reading besties with remus is all i want in life
reading with sirius would be so chaotic oh god
attention starved is sirius’ only mood
AHHHHH PLAYING WITH HIS HAIR I AM SGKSGTSSGSLU
oh god i loved it!!
my favourite lines:
She’s been briefed on what his home life is like, too, and who he has to put up with. And since she was a young girl, Pomona has been determined to give everyone a fair chance.
→ i teared up a bit
“I was prohibited,” he says, pressing a scandalized hand to his chest. “Remus did it for me over break, while my brother played nurse.”
“And for the record,” he adds, “Remus was very strict with my cleaning regimen, so I did not get any infections if that’s what you’ve been contemplating.”
→ this is canon
"Feed her, Seymour," you say, and Sirius whips his head towards you.
→ the impact this line had on me is astronomical
“I’ve realized we’re co-parenting a Mandrake,” he starts, “and I feel as though I should at least know a little something about the mother of my child.” You raise your eyebrows at him. “You know, to ensure that they don’t grow up lacking proper guardianship.”
“First, you don’t want to be friends, and now, you want our child to be one of divorce.”
“Sirius, we haven’t even been married.”
He presses his forehead against the stone next to you, and you turn to look at him. “I’m pretty sure there are a good bit of people who’ve been married and know less about each other than we do,” he says.
→ this whole part had me screaming
“I don’t come to class one day, and you’ve made a new friend? Why couldn’t you have made a new one any other day? I think I need some time off. Maybe even early retirement.”
“It’s rude to abuse the wounded.”
→ remus is my baby, i love him
“You say that as if I won’t do it.”
James sits up, but only enough so that he may rearrange himself into a poorly structured child’s pose. “Stop being such fucking tease and do it then, babe.”
→ is this queerness i smell
“See? Look at this fucker. My child.” Sirius gestures dramatically at the potted plant. Remus leans up against one of the tables, only slightly amused, much more out of breath.
→ a plus parenting sirius
“You whined about me making new friends,” Sirius says, “so that I’d leave you alone, and now you’ve taken it upon yourself to steal said friend from me?”
→ dkjsksgl
“I want you to play with my hair,” Sirius says.
→ deceased, dead, i died
final review:
this was so so good omg!! the pining, the flirting, the co-parenting??? i loved everything about this you have no idea. i may not be the biggest marauders stan to ever exist and i’m more of a moony type of person, but i love pads so much <333 he is baby <333 i also have to say that this did not read like a 5k fic, i was genuinely surprised how quickly this was over.
→ to my event post!
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Sunghoon would never admit it, but he’d spent the better part of a day reporting everyone who’d shipped him with you.
HELP??? LMFAO I SEE U HOON!! U R NOT SNEAKY !!!
There was a small chance Sunghoon was getting ahead of himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken it upon himself to organise the perfect date.
Being bitchless his entire life wasn’t doing him any favours in performing the task.
no joke for my bf's birthday i asked chatgpt to plan a perfect date bc i didn't know what to do ajdhalsjfafgk (it worked great i just had to tweak it a lil)
This was exactly the reason Sunghoon didn’t entirely hate being stuck in the friend zone. Because no matter how much you told people you were just friends and there was nothing going on between the two of you, you were constantly flirting.
oh that hurt
But Sunghoon was a selfish person. He was going to take what he could get. He would rather be unintentionally strung along than give these moments up.
THAT HURT MORE
“I have this extremely strong urge to kiss you right now. Would it be fine with you if I acted on it?”
oh i am so unwell
sage this was so so good!!! what stood out to me the most was how well u expressed the chemistry between hoon n y/n in their banter. it can be really hard esp in oneshots to make the connection between characters who've supposedly known each other for a long time believable, bc having that sense of like 'yes these two ppl have been friends forever and they have all this history tgt, u as a reader just haven't seen it' is SO DIFFICULT!! AND U DID IT PERFECTLY!!! as always i am in awe <3
the 24-hour dating challenge
PAIRING(S) | park sunghoon x fem!reader
GENRE(S) | fluff, crack, mutual pining, suggestive, best friends to lovers, influencer au
WORD COUNT | 8145
WARNING(S) | profanity, hoon is a loser and down bad sawry, you can’t see the mutual pining but that’s a skill issue on my part bc i swear it’s there, fic is completely from sunghoon’s pov, this was supposed to be short and sweet but it got kinda spicy towards the end LMAOAO but nothing happens so dw!!
SUMMARY | being a famous youtuber isn’t easy, especially when you have to constantly come up with new ideas to keep your audience entertained. and this time, your viewers want you to date park sunghoon, your best friend of nearly a decade, for the entirety of 24 hours.
MOODBOARD | one ☆ two
AUTHOR’S NOTE | omg i didn’t think i would struggle w this oneshot but i lowkey did w the last part </3 i think it’s bc it has been a while since i raw dogged a fic HAHDHS anyway i hope the end doesn’t seem super abrupt and y’all enjoy! i would love to hear your thoughts + feedback :’)
INSPIRATION | evelyn and fred (♡)
masterlist
“Your followers want me to do what?”
Sunghoon was positive he’d misheard you. However, part of him hoped you’d confirm the life-altering information you’d casually uttered without even bothering to look away from the TV screen.
“Hoon!” you exclaimed, your fingers aggressively moving about the gaming console. “Oh, my God, they’re coming after me! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK—” you screeched— “Nonononono I can’t take them by myself! You testicle-guzzling cocksucker, why did you die when I needed you the most?!”
Sunghoon watched you struggle warily. Your leg was bouncing with anxiety and your eyes were bulging out of their sockets. He wasn’t entirely sure you were breathing. Beads of sweat were clinging to your forehead, and your face was scrunched up in a weird, constipated expression.
There was a good chance you’d utter fouler insults if he disturbed you while playing, but he couldn’t stop himself from broaching the subject. “Are we just going to pretend you didn’t say the thing you just said?”
“The thing about you being a testicle-guzzling cocksucker?” you gritted. “No.”
Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “The thing about your followers wanting us to date for a video.”
For a few moments, you didn’t deign to acknowledge him. Then, as if a switch inside you had flipped, you pulled the TV’s plug and turned to face him. “Would it be weird?”
Wow. Okay, Sunghoon mused. I think it would be a fantastic idea and a dream come true, but I don’t trust myself around you. Even as a mere friend.
However, instead of voicing his thoughts, the boy simply shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve been friends for several years now. I’m a regular on your YouTube channel and I think your fans are aware of the dynamics of our relationship. What do they mean when they say they want us to date? Physical intimacy aside, we already do everything couples do.”
“I think they want us to be romantic,” you admitted. “Go on a date, hold hands, cross some lines.”
“Cross some lines?” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip curling in a smirk. “Is this you speaking or your subscribers?”
Groaning in exasperation, you shoved his shoulder. He fell back on the couch, laughing. “Shut up, dickface! You know I’ve been swamped this semester. My influencer gig has been seriously lacking. I need to step up—do what they want me to do. Besides, we only have to be girlfriend and boyfriend for 24 hours. It’s really not that big a deal. Are you in or not?”
Sunghoon took a few seconds to mull over your words. Sure, he would love to be your boyfriend for 24 hours. As long as his fantasies were brought to reality, he didn’t care if the whole relationship was fake and short-lived.
For far too long, he’d pined after you. He thought he was doing an excellent job at hiding his feelings, but then you decided to make vlogs for fun. That’s when shit actually went downhill.
Within a few years, you’d amassed a following of over 5 million on YouTube and 3 million on Instagram. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say you’d become somewhat of a local celebrity.
Being one of your closest friends, Sunghoon was often featured in your videos. Initially, he’d baulked at the idea of being filmed, but you’d worked your magic on him. The boy soon found himself being comfortable around cameras.
Even though Sunghoon never started his own YouTube channel, his popularity grew along with yours. His Instagram had garnered over two million followers, and courtesy of his good looks and attractive physique, he’d been offered a bunch of brand deals too.
You’d scowled at how far Sunghoon’s pretty privilege had gotten him. While you busted your ass coming up with unique ideas and editing your videos to perfection, all he needed to do was show up.
What you didn’t know, though, was that part of the reason he’d become a heartthrob among the youth was you.
You might have been dumb and blind, but your followers certainly were not. They’d realised how Sunghoon looked at you—his eyes always twinkled and a fond smile automatically adorned his lips whenever he caught sight of you.
To add to that, your fans had pointed out habits he didn’t even know he possessed. For example: idly braiding your strands; bringing you snacks whenever he swung by your apartment; saying hey, sunshine and giving you a side hug by way of greeting; disguising his compliments as insults.
The list was embarrassingly long.
They’d noticed the elastic he kept around his wrist at all times too—it was one of the two you’d used to tie his hair into little ponytails because you were convinced you could transform him into Boo from Monsters, Inc.
Sunghoon himself had forgotten the reason he wore the elastic around his wrist. All he knew was that it was yours and it felt right. But when he read the comments obsessing about it, he rushed to watch the video your fans were referring to.
And damn, they were right.
Sunghoon didn’t know if you’d seen the comments your fans regularly left on your various social media pages. You’d never mentioned anything about the community calling you “couple goals,” and he was too much of a coward to inquire if you were aware.
It was infuriating to know how transparent he was. Sunghoon wished he’d never gotten used to the camera and let slip his true self.
Perhaps this was the cost of gaining the boyfriend material label—his unrequited feelings exposed for the entire world to see.
Sunghoon would never admit it, but he’d spent the better part of a day reporting everyone who’d shipped him with you. The entire incident had truly made him go off the rails.
However, today’s revelation was unexpected. It was an opportunity. A chance to experience something he’d desired for many years. Suddenly, he found himself thanking those busybodies online instead of cussing them out for being ridiculously invested in his love life.
Sunghoon knew saying yes to your proposition would bite him in the ass later on. He knew he’d crave more of you once he got a taste of being your boyfriend, and giving this fake relationship a shot would definitely make it harder for him to get over you in the future. He knew he was a massive idiot for willingly indulging in impending heartbreak, but he could always cross that bridge when he came to it.
“Okay,” he said, meeting your gaze. “I’m in.”
There was a small chance Sunghoon was getting ahead of himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken it upon himself to organise the perfect date.
Being bitchless his entire life wasn’t doing him any favours in performing the task. Originally, he’d figured he would do a quick Google search and plan a day according to the results shown.
Unfortunately, most activities on the list were things the two of you already did on a normal basis. He’d racked his brain to think of a unique idea after scrolling through the internet for hours on end and coming up empty-handed.
Karaoke? Check. Restaurant hopping? Psh, you did that every weekend. Rock climbing? He was scared of heights. Bowling? Boring. Concert? None of your favourite artists were in town. Clubbing? He would rather spend quality time with you than get both of you wasted. Arcade? Basic and low-budget; he didn’t want to be cheap. Road-trip? Needed more than just 24 hours.
Sunghoon wondered if he was the problem. He’d shot down every option he’d come across so far by classifying it as not good enough. His stress levels were skyrocketing trying to make your 24-hour relationship perfect.
An entire day’s research had ended up being fruitless. You’d decided to go through with the challenge on Sunday, so he only had tomorrow to come up with something satisfactory.
Sighing, Sunghoon rubbed his eyes and closed his laptop. He eyed his phone on the bedside table for a few seconds, contemplating whether he should just call you and ask if you had anything in mind.
Before he could rethink his choice, he picked up the device and dialled you.
“Hey.” Your voice on the other end was deep and hoarse. A glance at the wall clock informed Sunghoon it was past midnight, and he’d likely woken you up. Guilt twisted his stomach. “Is something wrong?”
“Sorry, I didn’t realise it was late,” he mumbled. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Nah, it’s alright. I was watching a movie and passed out halfway through it. I needed to finish it anyway.”
Lying back on his bed, Sunghoon inquired, “Ready or not?”
“Yeah.” You huffed a laugh. “I finally got around to seeing it. Your choice, as always, is impeccable.”
Though you couldn’t see him, he raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just say you dozed off in the middle of it?”
“Well, yeah, but that’s because I’m not a stupid nocturnal with no care for their sleep cycle and health.”
“Ouch.” Sunghoon clutched his chest. He could practically hear you roll your eyes. “No need to be so harsh.”
You hummed absent-mindedly, a yawn escaping your lips. “Was there a reason you hit me up, or can I get back to the movie?”
“Oh, yeah.” Sunghoon cleared his throat. “Do you have any suggestions for the challenge? I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I haven’t come up with anything interesting.”
“Not really. I tried researching a bit, and there isn’t much we don’t already do. I’m starting to wonder if the only difference between a platonic and romantic relationship is physical intimacy. I’m sure we can reach a consensus though,” you added.
Sunghoon groaned. “This is proving to be more difficult than I—”
“WAIT!” you interrupted him with an exclaim. “How about a picnic date? We’ve been talking about going on one with the rest of our friends for ages, but it’s never worked out. Let’s go—just the two of us. We can choose outfits for each other too! I’ll order you something online, and you do the same for me. We can spend the rest of our day doing whatever you want.”
Sunghoon’s eyes widened. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”
“Right?” you giggled. “Maybe we can spread a blanket in the park under a tree and have a nice brunch. I’ll organise it!”
“I’ll take care of dinner and plan another activity for us to do between the two meals.” He grinned. “Looks like we might actually be able to pull this off, Y/N.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited to film a video,” you admitted.
Sunghoon’s heart fluttered, and his lips widened into a smile. “Me too.”
Everything was set. You’d received the dress Sunghoon had ordered for you, and he’d taken delivery of the one you’d bought for him.
Upon opening the package, Sunghoon was surprised to see you’d accidentally ended up matching outfits. While he’d chosen a white summer dress with blue flowers for you, you’d picked out a white graphic tee and low-rise, faded blue, baggy jeans for him.
The fit was minimal—something that he would have purchased if he’d seen it in a mall.
Grabbing a pair of sunglasses and running a hand through his messy hair, Sunghoon made a beeline for his car. He shot you a quick text regarding his ETA before backing the vehicle out of his driveway.
[hoon]: omw be there in 10
[y/n]: okie i’ll wait for u. call me when ur outside!!!!!!!!!
Averting his gaze to the road again, Sunghoon took a deep breath. He’d finally planned the perfect day out. It took a lot of effort and coordination on his part, but the several favours he had to call in were worth it.
He’d probably gone over the top, especially considering the fact that this wasn’t even real, but he was determined not to half-ass anything. He had one chance, and he’d damn well make sure he didn’t waste it.
Turning the corner of your house, Sunghoon dialled your number. “I’m here.”
“Coming,” you popped, the sound of your footsteps descending the stairs audible through the call.
He grabbed the bouquet of flowers from the backseat, got rid of his sunglasses and exited the car. Your door opened a few seconds later, and Sunghoon’s world slipped from under his feet.
God, you were beautiful. So beautiful and so fucking pretty in the dress he’d chosen for you. The material fit you perfectly—it accentuated your upper body and was flowy from your lower waist. The dress was almost ankle-length with a side slit that began at your upper thigh. Your shoulders and collar bones were exposed, a gold pendant filling the empty space the deep square neckline left in its wake.
Your left shoulder was carrying a tote bag, and your right hand was holding a large picnic basket. Much to Sunghoon’s surprise, your free hand was wrapped around a bouquet too.
Snapping himself out of his reverie, he took the basket from you and placed it inside the car. “You look amazing, sunshine,” he breathed. “Just—wow.”
Giggling, you did a little twirl for him. “Thanks! I love what you’ve done with your hair. It makes you more attractive.”
Sunghoon mock-saluted and bowed dramatically, a chuckle escaping his lips. “Took me ten minutes to style it.” Glancing at the flowers in your hand, he asked, “You got me flowers?”
Maybe his eyesight was faulty, but Sunghoon felt your entire demeanour suddenly change. Tucking a stray strand behind your ear, you averted your gaze from his and shyly mumbled, “You took it upon yourself to plan the majority of the day. The least I could do was gift you some flowers.”
Right when Sunghoon thought he couldn’t love you any more than he already did, you went ahead and did this. He’d never received flowers in his life before, and the gesture meant everything to him.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took the bouquet from you. “Thank you,” he said, voice heavy with gratitude. “Don’t kill me, but I don’t know the name of these flowers.”
Laughing, you pinched his cheek. “They’re asters.”
“What do they mean?”
“Why don’t you search it up when you go home?” you quipped. “Let me know once you find out.”
Sunghoon shrugged and handed you the flowers he’d bought for you. “Sunflowers for my sunshine.”
A wide grin broke across your lips. “They’re my favourite!”
“I know, dummy,” he said, flicking your forehead and opening the passenger’s door for you. “That’s why I got them for you.”
“Be nice!” you complained as he walked around the car. Taking a seat beside you, he started the engine and began driving. “I’m your girlfriend!”
“I just opened the door for you,” Sunghoon pointed out, promptly ignoring the way his heart rate picked up. “I think I’m being gentlemanly enough.”
“That’s not a word.”
“Is too.”
“Is not.”
“Is too.”
“This is why you get no bitches.”
“I got you.”
“Are you calling me a bitch?”
“I’m calling you mine.”
Snorting, you said, “Not your best save, Park.”
Biting down the smile threatening to break across his lips, Sunghoon said, “I’ll survive, but you should really start recording.”
“Right,” you gasped, your eyes widening. Fetching the DSLR from your tote bag and switching it on, you placed it on the dashboard carefully. After ensuring that the camera was rolling, you began, “I’m in the car with Sunghoon right now. He just picked me up, but I lowkey forgot to record it.”
“Y/N was too busy gawking at me,” Sunghoon teased and raised an eyebrow at the lens. “I’m too attractive for my own good.”
“Nobody’s buying your bullshit.” You rolled your eyes. “But if you do think he looks cute, it’s because I chose his outfit.”
“And if you think she looks beautiful, that’s because I chose her outfit.”
You nodded. “He did. We thought kicking off the challenge this way would be cool. Clothes were ordered by both of us individually, which means neither of us had any idea what had been chosen by the other until we met ten minutes ago. Crazy how we still ended up matching.”
“We exchanged flowers too. Y/N got me asters, and I got her sunflowers.”
“Hoon has no idea what asters signify,” you commented and nudged him with your elbow. “He didn’t even know the flowers I gifted him were asters.”
“Don’t shame me for not being a nerd!” Sunghoon defended himself. “Only you can be the kind of person who reads The Language of Flowers and indulges in floriography because they’re bored.”
“Aaaand the worst boyfriend award goes to this guy sitting right next to me,” you announced, shooting him a nasty glare. “He’s been annoying me from the moment he came to pick me up.”
“I opened the door for you!”
“How long are you going to milk the one gentlemanly thing you did?”
Sunghoon scoffed in disbelief. “I thought gentlemanly wasn’t a word.”
“I lied,” you popped and grinned cheekily.
“The problem with this relationship is you, woman, not me.”
Laughing, you turned to the camera again. “We’re going on multiple dates today. I’ve organised a picnic brunch, and Hoon has organised dinner.”
“It’s a surprise,” Sunghoon explained. “But I can assure you that it’s going to be the coolest thing ever.”
You hummed in agreement. “I believe him. He always gives the best surprises. Anyway, I’m going to stop recording now, and I’ll see you guys once we reach the park. I think we’re almost there.”
“Five minutes,” Sunghoon provided.
You grabbed the DSLR and brought it close to your face. Cupping your hand over the lens as if you were telling it a secret, you whispered, “T-minus five minutes to the best picnic date ever. Bye!”
Despite it being June and most kids being on vacation, the park wasn’t crowded.
Even though it was almost 10:30 and the sun was merciless, there were plenty of people jogging on the track. Sunghoon spotted a laughter club in session a few hundred metres away from where you’d laid your blanket under the tree.
Thanks to the clear sky and blowing wind, more than a few people had taken out their own picnic baskets and decided to enjoy the weather. A bunch of middle-schoolers were playing basketball about fifty metres away from your tree, and though Sunghoon would have appreciated the peace, it was fun to watch them run around on the court.
You’d set up the camera immediately upon arrival. Even though it was still rolling, neither of you were aware of it. It lay forgotten to the side, and as far as Sunghoon was concerned, it was just the two of you.
“It’s a beautiful day,” you mumbled, gathering your strands and tying them up in a messy bun. “Really fucking hot though.”
“You have some relief, at least,” Sunghoon said, pointing at your exposed shoulders and flowing dress. “I’m fully covered and positively dying in here.”
You smiled sheepishly. “Oops. That’s my bad.”
Laughing, Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair. “What did you get for us to eat in that basket of yours?” he asked. “It was pretty heavy.”
“Nothing much,” you answered and dragged the basket closer to you. Opening the lid, you pulled out Tupperware containing watermelons, muskmelons and mango slices. You’d also prepared a heart-shaped pizza and baked half a dozen macarons. Finally, you fetched a bottle filled with peach-iced tea and a pair of champagne glasses.
Sunghoon gaped at the assortment of food you’d arranged. “Did you make everything by yourself?”
“I wish,” you snorted. “Mom made the macarons and delivered them via FedEx. I don’t have the patience to bake.”
“Okay, but this is still crazy,” Sunghoon said, amazement evident in his tone. “The amount of effort you’ve put in is insane.”
Blushing, you shoved his shoulder. “Stop! You’re embarrassing me!”
“I’m complimenting you!” he exclaimed, and served himself a piece of the pizza. “Bringing homemade food is the best thing you could’ve done. And God, this is delicious. I’m going to wife you right now.”
You laughed incredulously. “Slow down, Romeo. We just started dating. How about you show me a good time first?”
This. This was exactly the reason Sunghoon didn’t entirely hate being stuck in the friend zone. Because no matter how much you told people you were just friends and there was nothing going on between the two of you, you were constantly flirting.
The only reason he was afraid of confessinh his feelings was that he didn’t know much of the flirting was real. It was the dynamic of your friendship—neither of you thought it was weird making suggestive comments. You were too comfortable with each other to let such things bother you.
Sunghoon could no longer tell whether your relationship was still platonic. He was hopelessly in love with you to keep knowing the difference between a joke and genuineness. His heart surged every time you said something only a romantic partner would, and his heart shattered every time he reminded himself that you didn’t actually mean it.
You never meant it.
But Sunghoon was a selfish person. He was going to take what he could get. He would rather be unintentionally strung along than give these moments up. The minuscule part of him that hated you for the pain you were causing him was nothing compared to the part of him that loved you unconditionally.
Forcing himself out of his reverie, Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at you. “In front of everyone?”
“You’re so gross!” you snickered, your eyes shining with mischief. “I obviously mean when we get home!”
I’m going to kill myself, Sunghoon thought. I’m going to kill myself before she kills me.
The two of you had finished eating almost thirty minutes ago. Now, you were just lying on the blanket and staring at the sky, having conversations about the most random topics.
You were talking shit about some know-it-all guy in your physics class, but Sunghoon wasn’t really paying any attention to what you were saying.
He was still stuck on what had happened an hour ago when you’d urged him to feed you because “that was what couples did.”
Sunghoon didn’t give a shit what couples did. His biggest problem at the moment was his mind replaying the incident like a broken record. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He’d already known he was being an idiot by agreeing to come on this date, but he never thought he’d regret his decision this quickly.
“Are you okay?”
Blinking, Sunghoon spared you a glance. “Peachy.”
“Those kids over there are calling us,” you told him, pointing to the basketball court. “We should go see what they want.”
Nodding, he pulled himself to his feet and gave you a hand. Leaving the DSLR under the tree wouldn’t have been safe, so you grabbed it and the two of you made your way to the children waiting for you.
“Hey,” a perky boy greeted you enthusiastically. “I’m Hyun. We’ve been playing basketball for the past several hours. The team that wins 6 out of 11 matches has to treat the other team to ice cream. Unfortunately, 2 of our friends left, and now it’s just the 6 of us divided into 2 teams. We really don’t want to play half-court, but we can’t play full-court with a team of only 3 each. Do you guys want to play the last few matches with us? One match only last 15 minutes.”
Sunghoon exchanged a look with you. Then, you glanced at your spot under the tree. Lastly, you checked out your outfit—the slit exposing most of your leg and the lack of coverage for your shoulders.
“I have a pair of shorts and a shirt in my car,” he informed you.
You took a moment to weigh your options. Honestly, playing in the open when the sun was out to torture everyone didn’t sound appealing. There was also the issue of you needing to switch outfits, and you didn’t know if you wanted to take the effort of changing inside Sunghoon’s car.
But kids had always been your weak spot and the little rascals were staring you down with their puppy eyes.
You sighed. “Fine. We’re in.”
“I haven’t played in a while,” Sunghoon admitted. “I think it’s been over 6 months.”
“I haven’t played since varsity girls either,” you said. The kids had left to take a break a few minutes ago and the court was empty save for the two of you.
You’d changed into his clothes, but the shirt was too long for you. So, you’d requested him to tie the extra into a knot at the back. Thankfully, the shorts could be tightened at the waist with lace.
Sunghoon could get used to you wearing his wardrobe.
He idly dribbled the ball the kids had given to him for safekeeping while you stretched your stiff muscles. “Then I guess we get to evaluate whose skills have become more rusty.”
“Free shots?” you asked, eyes alight with a competitive fire and a smirk tugging at your lips. “We can test our aim and get a feel of the baskets on this court. It would be a good warm-up exercise.”
Sunghoon poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Bring your camera here. Record me from up close. I’m going to go for a layup.”
“Wow,” you scoffed but did as you were told nonetheless. Before stepping onto the court, you’d filmed Sunghoon and yourself, explaining that you were about to play basketball with a bunch of kids. Naturally, you’d decided not to record the match in order to respect the privacy of the children. “Don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourself? I’m telling you right now that I won’t care if you miss the shot. I will use it to humiliate you in the video.”
Sunghoon rolled his eyes.
You switched on the DSLR and pointed the lens at him. “We’re doing free shots till the kids come back from their break,” you said. “Hoon’s convinced he can land a layup even though he hasn’t touched a ball for several months.”
“Don’t condescend me,” Sunghoon grumbled as he walked to the 3-pointer line. “It’s not like I’ve completely forgotten how to play. I’m pretty sure I can nail a simple shot.”
“We’ll see.”
“You know what,” he called. “I’m going to dedicate this layup to you so that when I make it, you’ll know not to doubt my athletic prowess.”
All you did was raise an eyebrow.
“This one’s for you, babe!” Sunghoon announced and began running. The ball was a number 6—smaller than the size 7 he was used to. The grip was worn due to excessive use, but he still had complete control over it.
However, he misjudged the distance from the hoop. He realised a second too late that he’d taken the first step of the layup later than he was supposed to.
The ball collided against the rim and rebounded.
“Air ball!” you hollered and zoomed into Sunghoon’s face. “Athletic prowess found to be missing! What a shame!”
His cheeks, along with the tips of his ears, were red with embarrassment. He couldn’t even bring himself to look into the camera after making such a big fool out of himself.
“I am begging you, Y/N. Can we please edit that part out?”
“I’m kicking your ass, Park.”
“I suggest you take the over-confidence down a notch.”
You smirked, dribbling the basketball in place. Sunghoon was blocking the way to your side of the court, and each of the kids on your team had a man on them. Playing in the sun for so long must have tired them out because no one was making an effort to get rid of the shield standing in front of them.
The last match was a 1v1 at this point.
“I’m not in the habit of lying,” you said, and dribbled the ball from between his legs.
Sunghoon cursed under his breath and chased after you, but you were speeding away from him faster than he could keep up. The layup was clean and effortless. You barely broke a sweat.
“SUCK IT!” you screamed. “Your team is going down!”
Sunghoon rolled his eyes. He watched your team—Hyun, Chul and Dae—do the victory dance you’d taught them. It was hilarious because none of you had any coordination. The arm wave move made it seem as though all of you were having a seizure.
“We still have fifteen seconds of the match left,” he pointed out, and pat Iseul’s back in reassurance. “Don’t go celebrating just yet.”
“You’re four points behind. Just admit defeat,” Dae said. “We’ve won!”
“We’re not surrendering,” Hajoon said angrily. “Sunghoon will make sure we win.”
“Boys!” you interrupted loudly. “Let’s finish the championship sportingly. We’re playing for fun.”
Chul muttered something under his breath that Sunghoon and you chose to ignore.
“Seojoon,” Sunghoon called quietly. “Now that we have possession of the ball, I need you to pass it to me from below. Then I need Hajoon and Iseul to gang up on Y/N. Don’t push or shove; just keep her away. The worst thing we can do is commit a foul. The rest of the boys won’t be a problem, but I’ll need Seojoon to act as my shield in case they try to take the ball from me. Do not let anyone come near me under any circumstances. I’m going to go for a 5-pointer.”
The trio audibly gasped.
Iseul nervously asked, “Are you sure you can score?”
“Not without the three of you helping me out.” Sunghoon nodded. “Y/N is quick and slippery. Keep your eye on her. We’ll lose if she gets possession of the ball. I’ll take care of the rest.”
The boys let out a sound of agreement and dispersed, taking their respective positions.
Sunghoon searched for you, and when your gazes met, he made a gesture of slitting his throat. This time, you rolled your eyes and dismissed him without a word.
“Let’s start,” you announced with a clap and got into position. He noticed you were standing away from the basket. The rest of your team was too. It dawned on Sunghoon that you’d positioned everyone in a way that would prevent them from committing a foul which would grant his team free throws.
It was smart and reasonable of you to think that way. Sunghoon wasn’t known for landing 5-pointers. Heck, he never even attempted them. He usually went for layups and 3-pointers.
Focusing on the game, he took a deep breath. Seojoon passed the ball at him as soon as you yelled Go!
Sunghoon dribbled to your side of the court immediately. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you hesitate, but your mouth parted in realisation the second you caught onto what he was doing.
“Stay on her!” he yelled at Iseul and Hajoon. “Don’t let her go.”
Sunghoon dodged the rest of your teammates. Seojoon wasn’t doing a good job at keeping them away, but he didn’t have enough time to dwell on it. He could do this by himself as long as you were out of the picture.
Sunghoon eyed the basket and bent at his knees, gathering enough momentum to jump. He’d been hitting the gym more often, and he hoped to God his hard work wouldn’t fail him at such a crucial time.
Exhaling once, Sunghoon jumped and let the ball fly across the court. The moment the ball was out of his hands, you crashed into him, knocking him to the ground and falling on top of him.
“Ow,” he muttered, his arm wrapping itself around your waist on instinct. “That’s foul play.”
Before you could bite back, Sunghoon heard someone scream, “No way! Sunghoon did it!”
Sunghoon grinned and craned his neck to look at his teammates. A laugh tumbled past his lips when he saw them doing the floss dance and playfully teasing the losing team.
The sound of your groan made him avert his attention to you. You’d raised your head to find out whether Sunghoon had made the basket, and upon realising that you’d lost the match, you let it fall on his chest again. “Man,” you grumbled in defeat.
“Aw,” Sunghoon teased. “It happens to the best of us.”
“Who asked?”
Snorting, Sunghoon loosened his grip around your waist. Rolling off him, you laid down on your back in the middle of the court next to him. “Am I supposed to buy you ice cream now?”
He checked his watch before answering, “Nah. Let’s go home and freshen up. It’s almost time for my date.”
“The beach,” you marvelled. Both of you were standing on a cliff overlooking the expanse of sand and water. “I should have guessed.”
Sunghoon agreed. It shouldn’t have been hard to pinpoint the venue of the date once he’d requested you to wear shorts and sandals. However, your obliviousness had worked in his favour.
The entire thing was supposed to be a surprise. It was supposed to sweep you off your feet.
He averted his attention from the ocean to find that you were already staring at him. A soft smile was adorning your face, and with the breeze ruffling your unbound hair, you looked nothing short of a fairy tale.
“Do you remember the last time we came here?” you inquired, and returned your gaze to the view again. Sunghoon didn’t bother to take his eyes off you—he couldn’t take his eyes off you. The reflection of the sunset in your irises was too intoxicating. “Jay, Jake, Yizhuo and Isa were with us. We spent the entire night talking around a bonfire. I couldn’t keep myself awake once the clock struck two. You tucked me close and let me rest my head on the space between your shoulder and neck. You kissed my forehead and promised me you’d wake me up in a few hours.”
Sunghoon didn’t say anything. He only kept staring at the image of the sunset in your eyes—the way the ocean consumed the ball of fire the same way his love for you consumed his very being.
Love shouldn’t hurt this much, he thought. It shouldn’t be this painful.
“I remember the way you smelt,” you continued. “Like vanilla and sandalwood. I remember wanting to pull you closer because you also smelt like home. I hated moving to a new city for college. I missed our hometown. I missed life being simpler. I missed the old times. But those brief moments before I fell asleep reminded me that not everything had changed. The clumsy boy I’d met in kindergarten was still with me. Sure, he was a bigger pain in my ass than he had been when we were kids, but he hadn’t left my side even once. And I knew he wouldn’t for a long time.”
“You’ve been the only constant in my life, Sunghoon,” you mumbled and turned your body towards his. Snaking your arms around his waist, you pulled him into a hug. “Thank you for being a good friend to me. I love you.”
And though Sunghoon knew you didn’t mean it the way he wished you did, he returned your embrace and confessed, “I love you too.”
“What the fuck?” you whispered and let go of Sunghoon’s hand to jog ahead. “WHAT THE FUCK? IS THAT A CANDLELIGHT DINNER?”
Laughing in amusement, he pocketed his hands and watched you freak out. The beach was usually crowded at this hour, but he’d asked Jake—the surfer of their group—if there was anywhere he could spend the evening undisturbed.
“Your eyes do not deceive you,” he joked as he approached you. “I know it’s kind of corny, but this was the most romantic date setting I could think of.”
“Corny?” you exclaimed incredulously. “This is amazing!” Nudging him with your elbow, you teased, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“You would have known a lot more if you’d asked me out before,” Sunghoon smirked, a suggestive undertone to his comment. “But I suppose we can make do with what we have now.”
You snorted. “You’re insufferable.” Then added, “I don’t want to shoot us having dinner here. Maybe I’ll just film the date set-up and our outfits, but I think I want this evening to remain between us only.”
“Oh.” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure, that works for me. Do you want me to get your camera?”
The next five minutes were spent recording the date he had organised. The food was prepared by Jay, whose chef father had taught him a thing or two before the boy moved to the city for college. Sunghoon had dragged Yizhuo and Isa with him to shop for decor.
They’d bought a soft blanket which was now spread on the sand. He’d also purchased six couch pillows to make the setting cosier. Fairy lights covered the perimeter of the throw.
The coffee table Sunghoon had stolen from himself and brought to the beach was filled with all kinds of your favourite food, a scented candle burning in the centre of it.
Since he’d known he couldn’t escape you to set up everything that he’d planned, he’d begged his friends to do it for him. Obviously, they’d teased him about it on their group chat, but he’d ignored them the way he always did.
“I have another surprise,” Sunghoon popped as the two of you settled down on opposite sides of the table. “I don’t know if you’re going to be up for it though.”
“Is it the wine?” you asked, eyeing the corked bottle partially hidden under one of the pillows. “Because I saw it long back, and I am all for getting drunk.”
Sunghoon chuckled. “Nah, it’s not the wine, but yeah, we’re getting drunk. There’s absolutely no doubt about it. But,” he continued, “I’d been going through Pinterest to search for date ideas when I called you in the middle of your movie a few nights ago. After our talk, I remembered you’d made this board with Karina when you were a thirteen-year-old.”
You gasped and reached over the table to smack his arm. “You stalked my Pinterest?! That is so uncool! There’s tons of embarrassing shit on there! I should have privated those boards when I had the chance,” you muttered to yourself.
“Then I wouldn’t have rented a projector for us to watch a movie after we finish dinner.” Sunghoon grinned cheekily. “We are not watching some sappy romcom though,” he warned. “Soap2Day came in clutch so we can watch Suzume or Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 3. Your choice.”
Your mouth parted in surprise. For a few moments, you didn’t say anything. With a raised eyebrow, Sunghoon watched you struggle to form the words. “Okay, I know it was creepy to stalk you on Pinterest—”
“NO!” you blurted, your eyes widening. “It’s not creepy! I just—No one has ever done anything of this sort for me. I don’t know what to say except… thank you.”
Before he could reply, you buried your face in your hands, and muttered, “Gosh, I sound so ungrateful, but I really do appreciate it. More than I can express.” Raising your head, you looked straight into his eyes. “I have this extremely strong urge to kiss you right now. Would it be fine with you if I acted on it?”
Sunghoon stopped breathing. His smile dropped, and his heart skipped a beat. The entire world could have crumbled, and he would have remained frozen in place, trying to make sense of what you’d just said.
“W—what?” he croaked.
You broke off the eye contact and dropped your gaze to the ground. “Sorry. That was stupid of me—”
“Yes,” Sunghoon breathed. “Yes, it would be fine with me.”
You exhaled, appearing visibly relieved, and that somehow made him feel better about the sharp turn the evening had taken. Of course, he was thrilled you wanted to kiss him, but part of him couldn’t help but wonder if you’d regretted voicing your thoughts.
Licking your lips, you unfolded your legs and scooted away from the table. Instead of standing up, you got on your knees and made your way towards him.
Sunghoon also moved away from the table to make space for you, and once you reached him, you swung your legs on either side of him. Straddling his lap, you towered over him.
Snaking your arms around his shoulder, you glanced at his mouth.
Even though it was driving Sunghoon out of his mind to not close the distance between your lips, he let you take your time. You traced your thumb across his lower lip and then shifted your hand to the back of his neck.
Weaving your fingers through his hair, you let your eyes flutter shut and lowered your mouth over his.
Sunghoon’s entire universe exploded into shards of molten light. A tidal wave of emotions crashed into him, setting his nerves on fire and making fireworks explode inside his chest.
The boy couldn’t have kissed you back any faster. Tilting his head to the side, he pulled you closer by the nape.
Settling in his lap, you tugged at his hair, the nails of your other hand digging into his shoulder.
A groan slipped past Sunghoon’s lips. God, he’d coveted the taste of you for so long, and now that he was finally kissing you, he realised he’d never estimated the magnitude of his love for you accurately before.
Because this… this was everything. Sunghoon felt on top of the world, and pure euphoria was coursing through his veins. He couldn’t get enough of you. A single kiss would never be enough to satiate him. The floodgates were thrown open, and the thought of this being a one-time, impulsive thing made his gut twist painfully.
He knew he needed to tell you. Right here, right now, he needed to tell you the truth.
“Y/N.” Sunghoon gasped, breaking the kiss. He was leaning back now, his weight resting on his left elbow. The desperation and urgency with which you’d come onto him had been more than he could handle. “I need to tell you something.”
Your eyes remained glued to his lips and there was a tinge of disappointment on your face. As if you didn’t want to stop. As if you wanted to keep going.
With a jolt, it dawned on him that you probably wanted him just as much as he wanted you.
The epiphany alone was enough for Sunghoon to consider ditching his plan of confessing his feelings and instead close the distance between your mouths again. But, he steeled his nerves and pushed himself into a sitting position.
He didn’t bother asking you to get up from his lap nor did he bother removing his left hand from your waist. If this confession went sideways, he’d end up losing you anyway.
“What is it?” you whispered, your disappointed expression giving way to concern and nervousness. “Did I go too far? I’m sorry—”
“Stop,” Sunghoon ground out. “Please stop. Let me speak.”
You pursed your lips, but he could tell you were scared shitless. There was fear in your eyes, and he hated making you feel as though you’d done something wrong when you’d given him the one thing he’d wanted more than anything else.
“I…” Sunghoon started, forcing himself to find the courage to say the words. “Y/N, I love you.”
There it was. He’d done it. The cat was out of the bag, and all he could do now was wait with bated breath.
Your mouth parted open, but no sound came out of it. Your face was unreadable. It was void of any emotion. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sunghoon tore his gaze from yours and let out a humourless laugh. “Right. That’s okay—”
But then he felt your hands grabbing his jaw, making him pin his attention on you again.
There was pure, unadulterated joy on your countenance, a wide smile adorning your lips. “I love you too,” you breathed. “Oh, my God, Sunghoon, I love you too.”
Sunghoon blinked. “What?” he mumbled, his mouth set in a pout due to your squishing his cheeks.
You leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his puckered lips. “I love you too,” you repeated.
Gripping your hands, Sunghoon removed them from his face and stared up at you in bewilderment. “You’re serious?”
“Hasn’t it been obvious to you?”
“Hasn’t it been obvious to you?” he shot back. “I’ve loved you since high school.”
You snorted. “So have I.”
“Sophomore year.”
“Same.”
“I knew right after the homecoming ball.”
“Sucker!” you exclaimed. “I knew right after the game!”
Sunghoon frowned. “It’s not a competition, Y/N,” he said, and then added, “But if it were, I would win. The amount of effort I’ve put into hiding my feelings is insane.”
“Sure,” you drawled. “That’s why all my followers keep saying it’s clear you’re in love with me.”
The tips of his ears turned red in embarrassment. “You saw the comments?”
“Of course I did,” you answered, your voice soft. “I just never believed them. The notion never seemed possible. Isn’t it crazy how it was real this entire time?”
Sunghoon chuckled. “We’re idiots.”
“We are,” you said, smiling at him in affection. “To be honest, I wouldn’t have ever said anything about what I truly felt if you hadn’t found the courage to confess to me.”
“I know, I know,” you defended and rolled your eyes when he gave you a pointed look. “I did ask if I could kiss you. Trust me, I was more surprised than you were. Heck, I was fully prepared to play it off by spouting some bullshit in case you said no. What you did for me, Sunghoon… I couldn’t keep the urge inside me anymore. I didn’t care about the consequences. I didn’t care that there would be no turning back—I knew I had to take the risk. And I’m glad that I did.”
Sunghoon’s heart swelled with joy. “Me too.”
“Wait,” you said quickly. “How’d you know you were in love with me?”
Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, he answered, “While we were dancing at homecoming. You didn’t have a single move in you, but you didn’t wanna be the only one not dancing, so you started doing what you’d learnt in Zumba. It was hilarious—watching you be clueless but still killing it on the dance floor. It made me proud of you, but more than that, it made me realise what I felt for you.”
“Aw,” you cooed. “That’s really sweet of you, but I definitely knew what I was doing.”
“Let’s not ruin the moment by lying to each other.”
“You’re such a dork!”
“It’s your turn now!” Sunghoon grinned. “Tell me!”
“Okay, but you have to promise not to judge me,” you warned. “My story is embarrassing.”
Locking his pinkie with yours, he promised, “I won’t.”
“Remember how you sat with Yeojin at the game?” you asked, to which Sunghoon nodded. “Well, I’d been saving seats for us. I fought a lot of people to keep the seat next to me vacant, but you didn’t even acknowledge me when I called your name. Yeojin caught hold of you, and you went to sit with her without bothering to check if I was around.” Shrugging, you mumbled, “That made me mad and jealous and upset. Not just at her, but at both of you. I’d never been possessive over my friends, and I’d never felt such ugly emotions before. There was only one reasonable explanation.”
Sunghoon’s eyebrows flew up. “Woah. I’m sorry for what I did.”
“Nah, it’s cool. It was loud at the game and I don’t think you heard me.” You laughed and waved him away. “I was being petty. And I know it’s not cute like your story, but that was what made me realise there was a chance I loved you.”
“Cute or not, that was the best story I’ve ever heard,” he said cheekily. “Also, don’t get me wrong—I would love nothing more than have you sit in my lap, but I think we should finish dinner first. Let’s finish what you started once we’re done eating.”
Your eyes widened, and you scrambled away from him. “Right.”
“Wait!” Sunghoon grabbed your wrist before you could get up and go back to the other side of the table. “The asters—what do they signify?”
You smiled and leaned closer to his face, pressing the gentlest of kisses to his cheek.
“Love.”
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I can’t believe this is it… I’m not ready for it to be over. :((( nevertheless, here are my live thoughts:
Flames over flesh.
This line just gave me chills
The sun is warm on your cheeks and shoulders as you step out of the passenger side of Maverick’s Jeep, the worn straps of your duffle digging into the bare skin of your shoulder.
EEEEE HERE WE GO
“Just wait until the rugrats get here. You won’t even remember what the word quiet means…”
I’m a knower that this is years in advance but even so, this is such foreshadowing looool
“Don’t believe a word Jake says, alright? He’s gullible and he embellishes.”
Jake being thrown under the bus randomly while Mav talks about Penny is so fucking funny
“It definitely could’ve been worse,” Maverick agrees, laughing. “Like Camp Crystal Lake.”
You have no idea🧡
“Get this,” Maverick starts, grinning. “A place of simple pleasure and quiet.”
lol. lmao, even.
“Ouch,” Rooster says, mocking offense. He can’t wipe the grin off his lips. “That cut deep, little mama.”
Giggling and kicking my feet
His Adam’s apple bobs. Something between your leg twitches--you want to know what that bobbing would feel like below your open mouth.
Sooooo real of her.
now you’re in Rooster’s cabin with him and he’s shirtless and flirting with you mercilessly.
That’s the dream baby
His old man had it hung in the hanger way back when--when he was still alive and young and flying with Mav.
My heart hurts, please stop while you’re ahead
“Just the ones trying to get in my bed,” he says. He glances at you and you’re indeed touching his sheets, freezing when you feel his gaze.
GIGGLING AND KICKING MY MF FEET
“It’s chilling,” he says. “Would a lukewarm water bottle do in the meantime?”
I love how effortlessly they banter back and forth. Immediate chemistry upon first meeting. I’m in love.
“It’s vintage,” he tells you.
I’m in love with him
“Hallelujah, the chicken thinks I’ll fit right in!”
Any time someone calls Bradley any iteration of “chicken” kills me
He looks to the radio and at the sheets--you’ve touched both these things now. Later, when he’s sharing you with everyone and you’re in your own cabin and everyone is excited, he’ll have this private part of you. Pieces of you, particles, that will stay his.
LITERALLY YELLING, I AM IN LOVE WITH HIM
“I probably won’t get away with just spitting on it, though,” Rooster sighs, brows raised.
He can sp— [GUNSHOT]
But you know, deep in your gut, he could get away with just about anything. Especially spitting on it.
EXACTLY! Exactly.
“Do you want me to be good at that?” He asks.
IMMMMMMMMM
“Oh. You’re here,” Rooster says in realization, chills running up his legs and halting in the pit of his knee. “I was--well, shit, I was--I was…waiting for you. Hi, birdie.”
I’m a knower and I’m still gonna sob lol
“You dream about me all the time,” he tells you carefully. “You just don’t remember.”
I can’t do this
He knows that he is dead. He knows that you are dreaming. He knows what’s happening on the outside and the inside. He isn’t real. He knows that. But it all feels very real in this moment--he has the sudden and overwhelming urge to hold onto you tight, even if he knows it won’t stop you from going. He wants to dig his nails into your body until he meets bone. He wants to keep you here with him in this obscurity, when you’re both young and untouched by horror.
NO LIKE YOU DONT UNDERSTAND I TRULY FUCKING CANNOT DO THIS MILLOTHY
What you mean is that every time you feel the physical evidence of the life inside of you, you think of the man who put it there.
So unwell. So so unwell
“Will you show them?” He whispers.
I’m so SAD
“Their dad sure was,” he whispers. A few more tears slip down as his bottom lip quivers. “Just like my dad was.”
STOP
So does having your old man croak, I guess, Bradley thinks. Must be fate.
STOP IT RIGHT NOW I KUST CANT
But Rooster--Rooster will never get to hold his child. Not even in your dreams.
It’s truly remarkable how easily you break my heart Millothy
“We would’ve been good together, huh?”
Yes baby :(((((
“The best,” you whisper back, nodding. “I love him. But not like I loved you.”
Actually truly crying btw
“She’s waiting for you,” he tells you. … “Our daughter.”
C R Y I N G
He stared at the incubator. Yes, he could see her there. He could see that little nose and those big cheeks and those closed eyes. He could see her tiny face finally. He’d dreamed about her--about what she’d look like, about who she’d be. And she was finally there, right there.
Jake is so sweet I’m
“When is she coming back?” He heard himself ask.
Sweet boy. Sweet sweet boy.
Seven. Seven’s have followed him all his life.
Angel number baby boyyyy
Nothing else besides this one thought sitting fat and proud in the soft shell of his skull: I want to wash the dust off her.
Lovesick angel I’m melting
“Javy,” Jake said seriously, evenly. He sucked in a deep breath, brows knitting. “I’m gonna marry her.”
Wtf wtf wtf I’m teary
“Aren’t you just--just pretty as a picture? You look just like your mama. And your mama is the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my whole life. Can you believe that? Huh? Well, I’m no liar. I really mean it.”
He’s such a sweet daddy I’m cry
He doesn’t know what you’re saying what about.
I know this is a tender moment but Jake’s confusion is making me giggle
But he lets go now--his sobs suddenly puncturing the stale air in the hospital room…
Oh baby :(((((
You have a daughter. Just like Susie told you that you would. Just like Bradley told you that you did.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEE
But you’re too afraid that she’ll open her eyes, that she’ll look at you, that you’ll know. Then what will you do? You never got this far in any nightmare.
:((((((
“Daddy’ll be back any--he’ll be back any minute now, alright? Can’t you just wait it out?”
This is making me so sad
You’ve imagined them one thousand times since you looked into them for the first time at Camp Arcadia, when you saw all the light dissipated and flecks of gold washed away from Bradley’s eyes.
Wait I’m
But now she’s here, blinking up at you with her father’s eyes--flecks of gold surround her brown velvet irises.
UPSET AND HAPPY AT THE SAME TIME
But you know, without a doubt, that he will love you through all the ugly.
I AM IN LOVE WITH HIM!!!! MILLIE
“Birdie,” you repeat yourself, looking down at her placid face as she finds your chest again and resumes eating. Your spine prickles. “Birdie.”
I’m so emotional right now I can’t take it
Oh, you think. It’s finally morning.
I need you to know I just said “oh” out loud and burst into tears I’m so serious. What a beautiful final line.
I can’t believe this is over. I’m so upset. This is seriously the best story I’ve ever read in my entire LIFE. MILLIE. YOU DID THAT
𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 — 𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎
—𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇-𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍-𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍. —𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟏𝟑.𝟗𝐊 —𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 —𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑
𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄, 𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐓. 𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝟏𝟓𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟖
The gurney breaches doorways, breaks crowds of baby blue scrubs. The wheels scream, unoiled and abused. Everyone is talking--terms you usually can synthesize but cannot now. You stare at the ceiling tiles, desperately trying to keep your heavy lids open.
You’re not in immeasurable pain now, but you would be without the needle in your spine. Maybe you’re going to be on the table and the monster you’ve been incubating is going to break through your skin and then a fire is going to eat the both of you--unless, of course, you bleed out first.
Maybe this is the end. Maybe this is what your summer has been coming to all along.
This is it. What a silly thought that is. What gives?
With the world flying by you from up above in shades of white and crisp blue, you wonder what this was all for. All this pain, all this torture, all this fever. What good did it do anybody?
Flames over flesh.
It’s the last thing you think before your eyes close and you sink into a meperidine haze.
♀
The sun is warm on your cheeks and shoulders as you step out of the passenger side of Maverick’s Jeep, the worn straps of your duffle digging into the bare skin of your shoulder. Your flimsy sandals--you should’ve known better than to wear sandals--sink into the gravel and gray dust kicks up your shins.
Inhaling deeply, you’re almost startled at how clean the air smells. Nothing like the choking scent of leather and gasoline in Maverick’s Jeep--it was making your eyes damn near water on the ride up. But here it is fresh and purified by pine and oak and crabgrass.
“Got anything in the back?” Maverick asks you, already headed towards the trunk with his shades intact and his jet-black hair wind-kissed from your ride with the top down. You shake your head. “Just the duffel then, huh? Light packer! I like that in a woman! Would you so mind helping me grab some of the supplies from the back?”
“Sure thing,” you tell him, setting your bag on the gravel and following him to the back of the Jeep.
He’s grinning as the two of you begin unloading.
“I love it here,” he tells you with a content sigh. He glances around the property, notes where a screen needs to be repaired and a hinge reattached and paint touched up, and glances at you. You’re diligently unloading jugs of water and big boxes of raisins with your brow knit. There’s a faint smile tugging on your lips, a heat about your face and chest that gives you a sheen of excitement. “You’re going to love it here, you know. What do you think so far, nurse?”
Face warm from his nickname for you, which feels like a pretty high compliment for a prospective nursing student, you smile very politely.
“Well, it's sure…picturesque. If that isn’t too corny,” you tell him, quickly glancing at the trees scraping the endless blue sky. “Quiet, too.”
“Just wait until the rugrats get here. You won’t even remember what the word quiet means. It’s completely fantastic,” Maverick tells you, wiping his hands on his khaki-colored shorts. He slams the trunk of the Jeep shut. “I’ll give you the walking-talking tour if you carry that jug aaand those boxes for me.”
Trailing behind him, arms full of water and pantry goods, you’re only half-listening to him. Your heart is beating steadily in your throat, arms already aching.
“--officially opened the doors with Pen about two or three years ago--oh, that’s my wife, by the way. Penny, Pen, P. You’ll probably meet her sometime this summer, I’d guess! Anyway, it was the year our daughter, Mel, started school. Didn’t have anything to do, so we thought--why not?” Maverick says. He stops suddenly and props a heavy wooden box on his thigh so he can wipe the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He glances at you and notes you taking it all in still. He smiles. “Pen used to go here as a little girl. Some of her favorite memories of her childhood are--well, right here. She’s always passing the camp folklore down to the masses. Don’t believe a word Jake says, alright? He’s gullible and he embellishes.”
You imagine writing it down on a sticky note and plastering it to the inside of your skull: don’t trust Jake--he’s a storyteller.
“Has it always been open to the public? Camp, I mean.” You ask. “Heck, I’d never heard of it until this summer.”
Maverick shakes his head.
“So much for advertising, right? Guess word-of-mouth isn’t the best way to spread the good news about camp,” he laughs. “It’s got kind of a funky history. Opened first in 1945 after the war and stayed open until--huh, I think about…’57 or ‘59? And then it was closed until Penny and I opened it up again in ‘80.”
“Wow,” you say softly. “Was it in rough shape?”
“Everything but the camp sign,” Maverick says, nodding towards the large arched sign at the mouth of camp. It is a heavy and thick thing made of wood--hand painted in clear, concise letters. “That's why we kept the name.”
“Camp Arcadia,” you say aloud. “It’s got a nice little ring to it, doesn’t it?”
“It definitely could’ve been worse,” Maverick agrees, laughing. “Like Camp Crystal Lake.”
“Don’t remind me,” you say, laughing softly. “I’m trying to forget about that film’s existence.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Maverick says. “Do you know what Arcadia means?”
“Uh,” you say, thinking. Heat has sprouted in your chest from the exertion of carrying such heavy items. “I don’t think I do.”
“Get this,” Maverick starts, grinning. “A place of simple pleasure and quiet.”
“Well, then. It sure lives up to its name!”
“That’s what Penny says,” Maverick sighs. “But she usually stays away during the talent show.”
“There’s a talent show?” You ask, grinning. Maverick nods. “How sweet. Must get all the kiddos excited.”
“Oh, boy--does it ever.” Maverick glances at you, but then stops again. You’re both panting when you dig your heels into the gravel and halt. He nods to your strained arms. “That too heavy? You alright?”
Really, you’re struggling to carry all the items in your arms. But dammit if you’ll so much as let your bottom lip quiver.
“Nah, I’m good!” You say, panting. “I’m great, actually.”
Maverick has already decided he likes you. But he especially likes you when you’re lying to save face. It reminds him of himself.
“From your lips to God’s ear,” he says with a wink.
Maverick takes you through the courtyard and into the mess hall, where he tells you to just throw the items anywhere. And you quite literally hardly make it through the door before your knees are buckling and you’re setting everything down with complete haste.
“That’s quite a hike,” you pant to Maverick, slightly embarrassed as you fan yourself. “You didn’t give me a fair warning.”
“Would you have come?” He asks, all charm and charisma as he wipes his balmy hands on the thighs of his jeans.
“Touché,” you breathe.
“Thanks a million, by the way,” Maverick tells you, plucking his sunglasses off and hooking them to his linen button-down before he grins at you again. “How you feeling? Nervous? Scared? Excited?”
Maverick moves about a million miles a minute--he’s a fast talker and an even faster driver. As you catch your breath and chew on your answer, you begin to feel like you have a crick in your neck and a Hell of a summer ahead of you.
But you just smile at him.
“I’m feelin’ dandy,” you answer him. You glance around the cavernous mess hall, which has been freshly mopped--diluted bleach stings your nostrils, coats the roof of your mouth. “Where is everyone?”
He points at you, eyebrows coming together.
“Good question,” he sighs. “Let’s go find ‘em, huh?”
You don’t have to go far to find everyone. Just as soon as the two of you are out the door and in the heat again, you hear splashing and hollering. Turning your face towards the water--a beautiful, blue lake that stretches from one side of the tree-lined horizon to the other--you see them all.
“There they are,” Maverick grins, hands on his hips. “Guess they needed to cool off.”
“What were they doing before?” You ask, brow furrowed. You wring your hands together as you scan the water--a handful of men, all brawny and tan and long hair and sex, and one petite brunette--swallowing hard. “Like, you know. What got them so hot?”
“Orgies tend to get a tad steamy,” a voice says from behind you, a teasing lilt sinking into the notes. “But so does repainting the latrine.”
“Ah,” Maverick says, grinning at the man that has suddenly materialized behind you. Maverick throws an arm over his shoulders and doesn’t seem to mind how much he is dwarfed by this man. He slaps the man’s bare chest a few friendly times. “My favorite nephew.”
“Don’t worry,” the man says, eyes wide. He holds his hands up to you like you’re an upset animal he’s cornered and he’s trying to get back on your good side. “Not related biologically.”
“Why would she worry about that?” Maverick asks him, already fighting an eye roll.
“‘Cause I don’t want her thinking my genes are tainted or anything,” the man answers with a boyish grin. “In fact, I don’t want anyone thinking that!”
“Tainted? You mean blessed,” Maverick says, letting his eyes finally roll. He glances at you, still smiling. “Nurse--this is Rooster. Rooster, this is nurse.”
Rooster’s sopping wet, only wearing a small pair of swim trunks, and his curls are dripping lakewater down his back. His hair is dark gold, curly, and long enough to sit just below his shoulders. And his chest glistens in the sun, wide and hard from manual labor.
And you--you look way too young to be the new nurse here. The last nurse was closing in on her seventies and always had a butterscotch candy tucked inside her cheek. You aren’t in uniform--camp or otherwise--and he wonders if you’re the new counselor he heard about last week. A last-minute hire, someone Maverick was going to bring in personally.
“You’re the new camp nurse?” He asks, brows furrowed. He looks you up and down, sizes you up. He’s wondering how old you are to already be a nurse--you can practically see the question on his tongue.
You hold your hip with one hand and shade your eyes from the sun with the other.
“You’re named after a farm animal and you’re worried about him tainting your genes?”
Maverick laughs--a deep and proud belly laugh--before clapping Rooster on the shoulder.
“Ouch,” Rooster says, mocking offense. He can’t wipe the grin off his lips. “That cut deep, little mama.”
“Great. A regular Elvis Presley,” you say. “Just what I needed.”
“Hey, I take offense to that,” Rooster says as lake water rolls off his tanned shoulders and down his arms. You’re trying not to stare, nose twitching with concentration. “I’m much more of a Jerry Lee Lewis type! It’s undeniable!”
“Cry about it,” you say.
Smiling yourself, you bring your index finger to your eye and drag it down your face--mocking the rolling of a tear.
Rooster laughs--a laugh that you can feel in the soles of your feet like it’s coming from deep inside of the earth, like it was born there just to die in the foundation of your body.
“Only if you’re there to make it all better,” Rooster says.
It feels like a challenge.
You’re just about to lip something back when Maverick glances at his watch and cringes. Amelia has a ballet recital later and he doesn’t even want to think about what Penny will say if he’s more than five minutes late.
He claps to draw both of your gazes to him.
“Here’s an idea. Why don’t you two get acquainted while I get some work done, huh? I’m in a crunch here. Give her a tour, Rooster! Introduce her to the flock! Finish that latrine!” Maverick lists as he starts for the Jeep again. He stops and turns quickly, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. You wonder, momentarily, if he’s made of plastic. “And play nice, kids!”
You and Rooster look at each other for a long moment, each of you biting smiles, taking each other in as Maverick jogs back towards the Jeep with all the haste and grace of a prancing deer.
“Who’re they?” You ask, nodding towards the water.
He crosses his arms, stepping closer to you.
“The others,” he says.
“The others?” You mock. “Ominous.”
“Coyote, Hangman, Fanboy, Payback, and Phoenix,” he answers.
“Which one’s the girl?” You inquire, brows pinched.
He grins at you. His lips are pink with enjoyment.
“Guess,” he simply says.
“I’ll go out on a limb here and say it isn’t Fanboy or Hangman,” you answer. He nods, amused. “Payback?” You ask.
“Other P,” he says, impressed and delighted.
“Damn,” you answer, tutting. “Phoenix, then.”
“Bingo,” he tells you.
“Nurse is a nickname,” you say finally, pressing your toe into the gravel.
“So is Rooster,” he says, nodding. “Thank God.”
His Adam’s apple bobs. Something between your leg twitches--you want to know what that bobbing would feel like below your open mouth.
Swallowing hard, you nod.
“I know,” you say. “I was only kidding before.”
“Yeah, me too,” Rooster says. “‘Cause no way you’re old enough to be a nurse.”
“I’m not,” you say, crossing your arms. “But I’m old enough to be a counselor.”
“Righteous,” Rooster says. He thinks for a moment and then slowly says your name, unraveling it from his memory like a fragile thread. “Right? Did I say it right?”
“Yeah,” you answer. Your name coming off his tongue sounds ultra-casual and cool, like it’s just been said on the radio or over the loudspeaker on a beach. “But I’m gonna go out on a limb here and deduce that everyone here gets a nickname.”
“Are you studious or just one of those people?” He asks, pushing his wet hair back.
You grin at him and warmth blossoms in his chest. You’ve got a pretty smile--especially this one that eats your whole face and scrunches your eyes. This one, the one he’s staring at, is harder to earn than the docile smile you wore on your way in.
“Just one of those people?” You ask, eyebrow cocked. “Do tell me what kind of people you’re talking about.”
“Well,” he says, stretching. “The kind of people that know everything.”
“Ah,” you say, nodding. “A know-it-all, in other words.”
“Hey, I never said that,” Rooster says, laughing. “You’re already putting words in my mouth!”
Shrugging, you sigh.
“Yeah, well--I already knew what you meant! Apparently.”
He licks his lips.
“So, you are one of those people then, huh?” He asks, his brow cocked identically. You blink at him, opening your mouth, when he suddenly stops you. “Wait a minute--don’t tell me. I wanna figure it out myself.”
You nod, pretending to zip your lips.
“Game on,” you tell him. “You’ll report your findings by Labor Day, right?”
“Right-o, captain!” He grins, saluting.
Cringing, you sigh through your clenched jaw.
“I’m hoping that one doesn’t stick,” you tell him.
You imagine everyone having to call you--the newest counselor--Captain. Yuck and a half.
Rooster imagines it, too, and laughs again. Hangman would get a real kick out of that.
“Consider it forgotten. Here, lemme get changed and I can finish the tour.”
He starts for his cabin, nodding for you to follow, and you do. You don’t even know that you’re doing it--your feet are just picking themselves up and dropping themselves down on the gravel a few inches further from where they started.
“Where’re you from?” You ask him, just to fill all the air around the two of you.
He grins down at you.
“Everywhere,” he says.
Smiling, warm from the sun, you nod.
“Military brat or on the lamb?” You ask. “Wait--don’t tell me. I wanna figure it out for myself!”
He’s laughing again--that booming laugh that is like your own private earthquake.
“The former,” Rooster says, laughing. “How about you?”
“Here,” you answer, pointing to the ground.
“Weird,” Rooster teases. “I’d think I’d have seen you before now since you’re local.”
He opens the door to his cabin--cool air rushes out, kisses your cheeks. The air smells thicker in there--like mint and pine and vetiver. It’s an undeniable boyish smell, one that you can’t seem to get yourself to mind inhaling.
Stepping over the threshold, you find yourself inside of his cabin for the first time. Everything is happening so fast--first you’re being whipped through the thick wilderness in a speedy Jeep, then you’re unloading non-perishable items with Maverick, and now you’re in Rooster’s cabin with him and he’s shirtless and flirting with you mercilessly.
“I’m from just outside of Portland,” you answer distantly, glancing around at the bottles of half-empty colognes and random nail clippers and bandanas strewn about. “So, pretty much here.”
“Ah,” Rooster answers. “A Maine native. What are y’all called again?”
“Mainers,” you answer. “You might be onto something with Maitive, though.”
He grabs a towel that’s been drying on the back of a chair and begins to pat himself dry of the fat water droplets. He’s watching you look around the cabin, all your features seeped in delicate curiosity and a quiet sort of pleasure. He’s suddenly hyper aware of his unmade bed and mustache trimmings and unpacked duffel bag and the scraps of posters he was cutting earlier to hang on the wall above his bed.
“So, you share with the kiddos?” You ask, nodding to the empty bunks. You know which bed is his--it’s the one in the corner that’s unmade, the one that is so heavy with his scent that you can practically see it wafting upwards in waves of amber and white. “What if they aren’t Deadheads?”
He looks at you and you’re looking at The Grateful Dead poster he puts up every summer, the one that is faded from the sun and water damaged and older than most of the kids at camp. His old man had it hung in the hanger way back when--when he was still alive and young and flying with Mav.
Rooster lets the towel drop to the ground as he holds his hips, shrugging.
“Then they’ve got a whole summer to become one,” he tells you. He looks you up and down again. “You a Deadhead?”
“Please,” you say, nose wrinkling. “You ask every lady that?”
“Just the ones trying to get in my bed,” he says. He glances at you and you’re indeed touching his sheets, freezing when you feel his gaze. “Go on--sit. Where are my hosting skills? Would you like anything? A water? Glass of wine?”
You sink into his bed and the mattress squeaks with your weight--Rooster tries hard not to look at the plush skin of your thighs expanding on his sheets.
“Got any Blue Nun?” You tease.
“It’s chilling,” he says. “Would a lukewarm water bottle do in the meantime?”
You nod.
He grabs one out from under the bed and presents it to you like a fine wine.
“It’s vintage,” he tells you.
“What year?”
“April of this one,” he says with a wink.
You twist the cap off and he grabs a t-shirt from his duffel and slips it on.
“Is it a bummer sharing with the kids?” You ask. You graze his pillow and then glance back up at the Polaroids on his walls. You can tell, even from where you’re sitting, that a few of them have been taken here. “You know, without privacy and everything.”
“What would I need privacy for?” He asks, slipping into a pair of denim shorts. He is watching you as you scan the room, your hair a touch messier than it was before. “Usually can’t get any of the outside folk to trek through the wilderness for a slumber party.”
“Outside folk?” You ask, brow perched. “You mean girls, right?”
“Do you want me to mean girls?” He asks.
Your face is hot.
“You have a radio,” you say when you suddenly spot it perched on the windowsill. “Can I turn it on?”
“Be my guest,” Rooster says, shrugging the towel around his shoulders.
While your back is turned, he takes a few seconds to sweep away his mustache hairs from the dresser and tucks his duffel beneath one of the other bunks.
You tune for a little while, listening with half a heart as you look out at the courtyard.
“It’s really beautiful here,” you tell Rooster. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it.”
“Trust me--you will,” Rooster sighs good-naturedly, leaning against the bunk opposite his bed. “Especially when you’re wrangling a bunch of ankle-biters.”
You hum, shaking your head.
“So, is it hard work?” You ask him, still tuning. “I mean, I’ve babysat and all that. But never anything like this.”
He drinks you in--the sun is shining on you through the window, grainy from the film of dust on the glass. You’re smiling, peachy and warm, as you try and find a song to punctuate this moment the two of you are sharing.
“Yeah, I mean--there are moments. You know?” Rooster asks. You nod, not looking at him. “For the most part, it’s chill. Super chill.”
“Good,” you say. “I’m trying to save up, so it’s good to know I won’t wanna quit by July.”
Rooster smiles.
“What’re you saving up for?” He asks. “A radio of one’s own?”
You grin.
“Nursing school,” you say. “Made the mistake of telling Maverick that already.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Rooster laughs.
You pause suddenly when Sugar Mountain by Neil Young begins.
Pleased with your choice, you turn back to Rooster and find him biting a grin.
“What?” You ask.
“You’re making fun of me for being a Deadhead and you’re a Rusty?”
Warm all over, you nod.
“Loud and proud,” you say.
“Bold,” he tells you. “Super bold.”
“Well, that’s me,” you tell him. “Bold.”
It's so noisy at the fair But all your friends are there And the candy floss you had And your mother and your dad
“I think you’re gonna fit in alright,” Rooster says decidedly.
You turn your head to the side, swallowing a face-eating grin.
“Oh, you do, do you?” You ask. He nods, eyebrows raised. “Hallelujah, the chicken thinks I’ll fit right in!”
He sits down beside you on the bed and you’re suddenly more aware than you’ve been since stepping into this cabin how beautiful he is. Curls still dripping onto his red t-shirt and tan skin smooth as it coats rippling muscles, you almost can’t breathe with him this close to you.
“You’re really saving our asses this summer,” Rooster says, leaning back on his palms. You try not to look at his hands--his fingers spread out and gripping the sheets that his skin touches every night. “We desperately need another lady.”
You can't be twenty on Sugar Mountain Though you're thinking that you're leaving there too soon You're leaving there too soon
“It shows,” you tease. “How has Phoenix survived all this time? It’s a real…testosterone-ified place.”
“She’s survived by the skin of her teeth,” he tells you, smiling. “And by batting for the other team, if you’re picking up what I’m laying down.”
Oh. You nod. Okay. Cool.
He looks to the radio and at the sheets--you’ve touched both these things now. Later, when he’s sharing you with everyone and you’re in your own cabin and everyone is excited, he’ll have this private part of you. Pieces of you, particles, that will stay his.
You move to say something when you suddenly feel a sharp and distinct pain. Immediately, you draw your hand up from the bed, gasping. Your finger is bleeding--just a little bit, just a few drops.
“Shit,” Rooster tuts, grabbing the scissors off the bed. His ears are bright red. “I’m so sorry--I totally forgot to throw these back on the dresser earlier.”
“It’s alright,” you tell him hurriedly, cupping your hand. “Don’t let me bleed on your sheets!”
He chucks the scissors and the land somewhere opposite of the bunks. Then he turns towards you, puts his hand out.
“Let me see,” he insists.
You do--immediately.
He inspects the wound carefully. Just a little slice, a parting off your delicate skin and a few droplets of red coating it. He nods like he’s seen this all before.
“It’s not deep,” he says.
“I know,” you say with a soft smile.
“I probably won’t get away with just spitting on it, though,” Rooster sighs, brows raised.
Too flustered to say anything, you just shake your head. But you know, deep in your gut, he could get away with just about anything. Especially spitting on it.
Rooster takes your water bottle and opens it with one hand, keeping your injured hand in his own. You watch him with half-lidded eyes, your pulse racing in your throat and beneath your tongue.
There's a girl just down the aisle Oh to turn and see her smile
“This won’t hurt,” he says, brows raised. He has the cadence of someone who’s used to bandaging up tikes--his concerned voice not without a fun lilt. “Squeeze me if it does, huh?”
“I’m really getting the full treatment,” you say, tickled. “You must’ve run the other nurse outta town.”
He pours some water over your cut and it drips into your own lap like pink nectar.
“Tape,” he says. He looks up at you. “Stat!”
“Watch it,” you warn, still smiling. You hand him the pale masking tape. “Not too tight.”
“This ain’t my first rodeo, birdie,” he says.
It’s natural--the name that falls from his lips. Like this isn’t his first time saying it. Like he’s uttered it to you over many summers, here and there, back then and in days to come. The feeling sits warmly on your tongue, peculiar and comforting.
He wraps your finger and you watch with your heart in your throat.
“Good as new,” you say, inspecting the tape job. “Didn’t hurt a lick!”
“Good,” Rooster says. “You know, not to be a pig or anything, but I’m pretty good at this.”
“Taping girls?” You ask, tilting your head and biting your lip.
Rooster nearly chokes as he swallows, smiling and face freckled from the sunshine and so very warm. He brings his brows together dubiously, shrugging.
“Do you want me to be good at that?” He asks.
Now you’re the one narrowing your eyes and chewing your bottom lip as you stare at him, wondering already how you’re going to survive this summer when he looks at you like that.
“You’re pretty easy to like,” you tell him decidedly.
“You aren’t too bad yourself,” he quips instantly.
“Really?” You ask, slightly surprised. You’ve been accused, mostly from the peers in your clinicals, of being cold. Callous. But, really, you’re just focused. In the zone. Careful. Precise. You think that will count one day, will make you a good nurse. Rooster nods immediately, smiling with his brows knit. “Well. Thanks a million, then.”
“What? People call you frigid?” Rooster asks, teasing. But then you nod and he leans back, surprised. “No way. Get outta town! You’re bluffing.”
Silky laughter falls from your lips--easy. It’s so easy to laugh around him. Despite the humor in all of this, you’re still warm. But it’s a warmth you welcome, like lying back on hot concrete after a long swim. Looking at him, laughing with him, it makes your stagnant limbs feel sore like you’ve been cutting water for hours. You can finally sit still, though.
“They really do,” you say, only a little bit embarrassed. It feels a bit pathetic to argue this with him, like he knows you better than you know yourself. “What, like you even know me.”
Rooster stiffens, a smile still tugging on his lips, as he crosses his arms defiantly.
“Yeah, well, maybe I do know you,” he challenges. You’re wrestling a grin. “Try that on for size, Miss Know-It-All!”
“A-ha! Guess you do have me figured out,” you say with a shrug. “Didn’t even take half the summer!”
The two of you look at each other for a moment. And when the sun kisses his face, golden and warm, you get the overwhelming feeling that this is not your first time meeting him. No, it can’t be. You know those eyes and those flecks of gold that surround his pupils. You know the feeling of his hand on yours. You don’t know how you know these things, or why they’re tinged with pain like the delicate edges of antique paper rolling in on itself, but you just do. And you don’t even consider yourself a know-it-all.
Rooster holds onto your thighs, his thumbs pressing into your skin.
“Oh. You’re here,” Rooster says in realization, chills running up his legs and halting in the pit of his knee. “I was--well, shit, I was--I was…waiting for you. Hi, birdie.”
He doesn’t look away from you, gauging your reaction. You’re blinking back at him slowly, brows coming together in an innocent confusion. But he can see in your eyes that you know him. He can see in your eyes that you’re here with him now the way he’s always here.
“Hi,” you whisper. You glance around and everything is fuzzy and warm and pink. The radio is still playing in the corner. This is a memory, you realize. Memories are always tinted pink, which just happens with the passage of time. Like skin cells regenerating. Like cuts scabbing. “Are we…where are--?”
“Camp Arcadia,” Rooster answers. “Your memory of it, at least.”
“My very first memory of it,” you whisper to him, glancing around the cabin. And, yes, everything is exactly as you remembered. Even the discarded scissors in the corner. Even the tape around your finger and the heartbeat in your neck. “And my first memory of you.”
Cupping his cheek, you thumb at the damp stubble on his cheeks.
“I never dream about you,” you whisper to him, holding his cheeks in your hands.
“You dream about me all the time,” he tells you carefully. “You just don’t remember.”
It must be true if he’s telling it to you. You know this. Maybe the nightmares have been drowning out all the goodness that happens behind your eyelids.
“What makes this time different?” You whisper.
“Usually you aren’t sleeping under anesthesia,” he whispers back. “What’d you call it? The meperidine haze? That’s a good one, baby. Very psychedelic.”
Yes, he’s right. The meperidine haze. You’re not really here, at camp, baking in the sun and inhaling vetiver and mint and pine. No, you’re laid out on top of an operating table and the stranger is breaching and you’re artificially asleep. Really, you couldn’t be further from this moment you’re living right now. Why this faux one feels so much more grounded than reality stupifies you.
Looking down at your hand and they’re the hands of a twenty-year-old girl halfway through her bachelor’s degree. The rubber ring you will lose on your twenty-first birthday is sitting snug on your pinkie, safe for now. Your knuckles are free from scars and cracks acquired at the hospital. There are so few indentations on your hands, lines pressed there by age and work and life.
You suddenly feel so much older than you were in that moment--older than you really are. You quietly begin to cry.
Rooster leans into your touch, smiling fondly at you. He’s missed these palms, these fingers. He doesn’t mind looking at you, meeting you, teasing you over and over again. Sometimes you remember him and other times you don’t. Most of the time, you don’t. He doesn’t mind--he always plays along, never misses a line. Anything to just be near you again--to be held by you. Even if he knows he isn’t real, even if he knows he’s just a figment of your imagination.
“I don’t understand,” you tell him.
He knows he can’t say anything to make you understand something he only distantly understands himself. So, he just kisses your fingers.
You can't be twenty on Sugar Mountain Though you're thinking that you're leaving there too soon You're leaving there too soon
“Is this where you are?” You ask him. “Here? Forever?”
“It’s where you want me to be,” he answers you. “But only on this day. The first day.”
“Rooster, I--!”
A sob rips from your throat. He holds tight to your legs, still smiling sadly up at you.
He knows that he is dead. He knows that you are dreaming. He knows what’s happening on the outside and the inside. He isn’t real. He knows that. But it all feels very real in this moment--he has the sudden and overwhelming urge to hold onto you tight, even if he knows it won’t stop you from going. He wants to dig his nails into your body until he meets bone. He wants to keep you here with him in this obscurity, when you’re both young and untouched by horror.
You don’t belong here, though. This--this he knows in the depths of his body, in the arches of his feet. You belong on the outside, in the real world, where your skin gets bruised and scarred and your chest rises and falls.
“Don’t spoil it,” he tells you, thumbing some tears from your cheeks. He swallows all the metal in his mouth and smiles at you sadly. “Just be here with me.”
Another sob wriggles out from your lips, but you nod. You’ll do whatever he wants.
“You’re so young,” you marvel, stroking his face. “I can’t believe it. Really, I--I hardly remember you looking so…boyish.”
“You’re pretty young yourself,” he whispers with a smile. “In the springtime of your life. Or whatever the poet’s say.”
If this was the springtime of your life, you wonder what season you’re in now. Surely winter hasn’t come so quickly, even if it feels that way. You’re not in the summer or the autumn, though.
You’re in-between.
A blizzard in April.
Another beat passes and you still drink him in, unable to tear your eyes away from his dripping curls or his sweet gaze. It has been a long, long time since you’ve thought about this day. It has been a long, long time since you’ve thought about this first meeting with Bradley. You cannot afford to linger in hurtful memories such as this one--not after everything.
“I miss you,” you whisper. Another sob sits pert in your throat. “I miss you more than…more than anything in the world. I miss you all the time. I have so much I wanna talk about.”
Bradley’s chest tightens. If he was being completely honest right now, he’d tell you the same. But he can see how hard you’re trying to stop crying, can see the tears beginning to breach your waterline.
“I’m always around,” he says and you know that he means here, as a figment of your imagination, in your dreams. “Just close your eyes and poof! There I am.”
“I think about you,” you tell him, nodding and sniffling and trying not to cry again. “When I can afford it. When I can stand it.”
He nods solemnly, chewing on his bottom lip.
“Oh, yeah? Like when?” He asks. He tries to sound not-so-severe, tries to sound teasing and sweet. But his voice is flat and his tone is serious.
Choking back another sob, one that makes your nose ache, you hold onto him tighter.
“Every time I hear The Police,” you say and a dry laugh crumbles from your lips and into your lap like peeling drywall. “Which is, like, all the time now.”
He laughs--his eyes are wet.
“Yeah, I bet,” he says.
“And whenever…whenever I feel them move,” you tell him and you mean the baby and he knows that. Cautiously, you move to hold your belly. And, yes, it’s empty--just like it really actually was when you were twenty. Rooster watches the movements, chews on his bottom lip. “Whenever they kick or-or elbow or…”
He can fill in the blanks. Whenever they roll, whenever they hiccup, whenever they flex, whenever they stretch, whenever they twitch. What you mean is that every time you feel the physical evidence of the life inside of you, you think of the man who put it there.
He nods, jaw clenched. He can’t say anything for a moment. He’s certain the dam will break. He’s certain he will hold onto your legs and never release you.
So, then it’s quiet for a moment. Neil Young is still crying quietly on the windowsill.
“I love this song. I forgot it was playing,” you whisper to him. The two of you look at the radio together. “Was it really playing?”
You’re wondering if Dr. Titus is playing the radio during your operation. Yes, operation. You’re being operated on. Right now, you’re not really sitting on Bradley’s bed at Camp Arcadia. You aren’t really breathing in clean, clean air. You’re breathing in oxygen from a mask and antiseptics.
“Yeah, it was,” Rooster answers. “And you really made fun of me for being a Deadhead.”
“Warranted,” you whisper, a few tears streaming down your face. “You kinda ruined me, though.”
“In what way?” Rooster asks, hoping the answer isn’t the obvious one.
“I remember that after this--after this moment, this conversation--I stopped changing the station when they came on the radio,” you say and it’s the honest truth. You’ve never told anyone this. “Ripple isn’t half bad, you know.”
That’s when a few tears slip down Bradley’s face. He’s still smiling--just barely--and he nods a few times.
“Will you show them?” He whispers.
You know what he means--will you show your child the music he so loved?
“Of course,” you tell him, sniffling. “But no promises they’ll be a Deadhead.”
“Their dad sure was,” he whispers. A few more tears slip down as his bottom lip quivers. “Just like my dad was.”
“Runs in the family,” you say quietly.
So does having your old man croak, I guess, Bradley thinks. Must be fate.
You hold his cheeks, thumb his tears away. You wonder, marvel almost, at how real this all feels. This is what his face felt like that day all those years ago, freshly-shaven and smooth and boyish. Untainted by time and its pinkness.
The feeling comes on suddenly--starting in your toes and shooting up your shins, your knees, your thighs.
“I’m cold,” you whisper to Bradley.
Rooster nods, flat palms grazing your goosed skin. He wipes a few of his tears away.
“It’s just a side effect,” he tells you. You nod. You know that shivering--that your temperature falling--is a commonplace issue during deep sedation and general anesthesia. “It’s almost over, you know.”
“Yeah,” you whisper. “Emergency cesareans are usually pretty speedy.”
He imagines what you really look like right now--laid out on the table, cut open, bleeding. It seems so utterly against your grain to take something so heinous lying on your back. He feels like you could be the first person to ever elect to be awake during a major surgery, blinking up at the ceiling and gritting your teeth and meditating through the pain.
“You’re having a baby right now,” he says and incredibility drips from his tone like honey. “Our baby. How trippy is that?”
Belly turning, fingers quivering, you nod.
Yes, you’re not really here. You’re not really here.
“I’m scared,” you admit quietly. It’s the first time you’ve said it out loud in almost ten months. Rooster looks up at you, listening and watching and waiting. “I’m so scared.”
He doesn’t ask why. He doesn’t need to. Maybe it’s because he understands--or maybe it’s because he’s you and you’re him.
“I wish I was there with you. I wish I…I wish I could’ve stayed. For you. For the baby,” he tells you. “I wish I could hold them,” he admits.
It’s silly. You’ve wanted nothing more than to not hold them, than for them to be removed from your body. You’ve held them for nine months. You’re tired--anyone would be. But Rooster--Rooster will never get to hold his child. Not even in your dreams.
“I wish you could, too,” you whisper.
There is so much more he could say. He could say that he considers himself the luckiest man in his recent knowledge for having you as fleetingly as he did. He could say that his version of Hell is watching from far away, where he is now, and not being able to touch you. He could say that he hopes the baby looks a lot like you and a little like him so they don’t break your heart. He could say that he’s always thought of the name Ruth fondly and he’s never like the whole Junior thing for boys. He could tell you how much you meant to him, that he’s never felt alone, that he never did feel alone. He could tell you how sorry he is for dying, for leaving you behind pregnant with his child. He could tell you how much it hurts that his child will grow up without him.
He won’t break your heart today--the day your child is born. So, he just kisses your hands and feels the bones delicately pressing against your skin. He holds you tight.
“Do you think I can, like…do you think I have what it takes?” You whisper.
Rooster doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t tease. He just nods very solemnly.
“Of course I do,” he answers. “I don’t really have a doubt.”
“Not a single one?” You whisper.
Now he solemnly shakes his head.
“Afraid not,” he whispers back.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more,” you utter to him. The seams on his wrists are pressed against the back of your eyelids for eternity--the jagged, loose slices that didn’t hold for more than a few minutes. “I wish I could--I would do it differently if I could do it again.”
“I wouldn’t,” he whispers. He shakes his head. “I couldn’t have…”
Lived with himself. You both know it.
You kiss his fingers, try and remember the way they smell right now. Like lakewater and skin and wood.
“We would’ve been good together, huh?”
“Yeah,” you whisper. “Yeah. Maybe we would’ve.”
The song is almost over.
Now you say you're leaving' home 'Cause you want to be alone Ain't it funny how you feel When you're findin' out it's real?
“Is he good to you?” Rooster whispers.
He’s talking about Jake.
“The best,” you whisper back, nodding. “I love him. But not like I loved you.”
There is no way to measure these things--more or less, bigger or smaller, wilder or calmer. There is just love and different love. That’s all.
Rooster is choked up.
“Birdie?” He whispers.
“Yeah?” You whisper.
“Can I hold you?”
Without another moment of hesitation, you fall into his arms. You slip off the bed and into his lap and he wraps his arm around you and you wrap your arms around him. You’re overwhelmed by his heat, by his scent, by his breathing. There is salt and there is cloth as the two of you mold against each other.
Really, in these younger bodies, you didn’t hold each other like this. The first summer was chalk-full of merciless flirting and stolen glances and chaste touches. You never fell into his arms like this, a desperate heap, and cried into the red t-shirt that was still wrinkled from his duffel.
It is not in your nature to beg. It never has been. There are very few times in your life where you’ve resorted to it and Bradley was there for most of them, a figure looming or a warm body near you. The urge to beg right now--for him to hold you so tight that you can’t breathe, for him to keep you here with him forever, to stay--sits like a lump in your throat.
“I miss you,” you say instead of please, please, please. Your teeth chatter and you hold him tighter. “I miss you so much.”
“I know,” he whispers, voice strained. “I know.”
You look at him--really look at him. It feels like it is the last time you will ever see him. It feels like you’re on your knees in the mess hall and you’re about to pull a sheet over his face, like Joni Mitchell is dying on your tongue again. It feels like you’re standing in a morgue and you’re worried about him growing lonesome and cold. You’re crying too hard to memorize his nose or his sun kissed cheeks or the stubble on his chin. You just look at him and let your vision grow blurry with tears.
“Bird,” he whispers, brows drawn together in a happy sort of anguish.
Your entire body is cold now. The shivering is coming from deep within your connective tissue and marrow and nerves.
“Bradley,” you whisper. His name dies on your tongue.
“She’s waiting for you,” he tells you.
Something is tugging you backwards--like an invisible rope made of your own hair, a strong wind made of your own perfume.
“Who?” You ask.
He kisses your hands. His mouth lingers there--his breath is warm, his mustache is neatly trimmed. It is all so achingly familiar, so achingly real.
“Our daughter.”
♀
Two days blink by.
Well, really, they don’t blink by. They slink past Jake at an agonizing pace, like he is seeped in gelatinous animal fat. He used to like slow days--days that were dipped in honey, when the two of you were suspended in a quiet sort of sweetness--and the way they crawled forward.
But this diverges severely from that sweetness. It’s harder to move. He feels, for all intents and purposes, like he’s rotting. Decaying.
They brought you back into the room sometime between the afternoon and evening the next day. You’d spent a night in recovery, completely sedated, and been given two blood transfusions. The doctor explained something about injections, something about vitamins and narcotics, but Jake was having a hard time hearing because he was holding her.
Every time he held her--the baby girl you brought into this world with your eyes closed--his ears rang. It was like someone was firing a shotgun pressed against Jake’s cheek, like the kickback had sent him reeling and buckshot had deafened him.
He was still on the phone with his ma whenever the nurse wheeled an incubator in. It was only an hour after the flurry of white coats and scrubs that wheeled you out of the room, and he was still trying to catch his breath between broken sentences.
The nurse was whistling joyously like everything was hunky-dory, smiling down at the baby girl inside the glass. She glanced at Jake, smiling, and cleared her throat as she parked the incubator by the guest chair.
“Delivery!” The nurse sang.
Jake turned at once, eyes wide and wet and still crying.
“What--?”
He nearly fell out of the chair when the incubator registered. The phone slipped from his hands, hung on its cord and bounced like a plastic bungee jumper. His mama was still on the other line, southern drawl thick as she tried to get his attention.
“--Here she is! The lady of the hour!” She sing-songed, presenting the bulky machinery like a rare cut of steak at some snobby restaurant. He imagined the baby lying on a silver platter on a bed of inedible greens and the nurse pulling away the dome cover, wafting the scent of baby powder and milk towards him. “Your baby girl!”
Jake was frozen. There he sat, his hands empty and his face red and blotchy, and there the baby was only a few feet in front of him. The room changed--a small change, like being attuned to the frequency adjustment of a television--and he suddenly felt warm all over.
“My--my what?” He asked. “That’s--you mean it’s a girl? Mine?”
Quickly, glancing down, she read the label on the side of the incubator carefully.
Baby Girl Seresin.
“You’re Mr. Seresin, right?” She asked, suddenly feeling faint.
He nodded slowly, the lump in his throat impossibly large.
Her shoulders relaxed--she should’ve known better. She’s never mixed babies up before.
“All yours, daddy. Trust me, you’ll get proof of purchase at check-out,” she said jovially. She hummed, leaning down to tuck the white blanket beneath the baby’s chin. Already the nurse was touching her with such conviction, like they were old friends, like this little creature lying and crying wasn’t the reason Jake’s shoulders were stuck pinched by his ears. “And, yes--a girl. A blushing baby girl.”
He stared at the incubator. Yes, he could see her there. He could see that little nose and those big cheeks and those closed eyes. He could see her tiny face finally. He’d dreamed about her--about what she’d look like, about who she’d be. And she was finally there, right there.
But you weren’t.
“What’s going--is she okay? Is--is Gale okay--?”
The nurse’s cheeks flooded red, her smile dying slightly. She cleared her throat, looking down at the baby girl before her. She wished Jake would look down at the baby girl, too. Babies make everything better--they soften the blow with their ruddy cheeks and little lips and curled fingers.
“So, before the operation, she suffered what we call a placental abruption. Now, a--well, a placental abruption is when the placenta detaches from the uterine wall. In layman’s terms, it means that the baby couldn’t breathe--hence all the hullabaloo before the operation. But baby is okay--her levels are great and she gave us a good and loud cry when she was born,” the nurse explained softly, smiling at the thought of the baby’s first piercing cry. Even after all this time, all these years and these births and these babies, it still felt like a bell that called her home. “Passed all her tests with flying colors.”
Jake’s knees felt weak at the thought of the baby crying for the first time, suddenly in the air above your open abdomen and in a stranger’s hands and covered in your blood, and him not hearing it. He didn’t hear it. He was all the way in there, talking to his mama, and you were in there alone and asleep and bleeding.
The nurse sucked in a deep breath and met Jake’s gaze. She hated this part. Her palms were clammy as she slid them down the front of her nurse’s uniform, swallowing thickly and straightening her shoulders.
“Now, because of the sudden separation, mama’s uterine wall got knocked around quite a bit,” she explained. “Which, in layman’s layman terms, means that it poked a big ol’ hole. That can cause--well, it can cause a slew of issues, including internal bleeding, which we want to avoid at all costs. Obviously.”
Jake’s mind was racing--images and sounds and feelings and smells swirling around him, flitting past in milliseconds. Behind his eyes, his veins throbbed and pulsed.
“Okay. Okay--what does that mean? Like, you mean, she’s gonna be alright?”
The nurse sucked on the back of her teeth shortly, wishing there was something she could say or do to ease Jake's worries. But she couldn’t. She knew this.
“Her uterus experienced very severe trauma during delivery. It was already weakened from carrying to full-term and prior medical history. So, with all of that in mind, Dr. Titus went ahead and did a full-fledged hysterectomy. Well, he’s still--it’s still happening now. It was touch-and-go for a while there,” she said softly, nodding at Jake with soft, soft eyes. And what she meant by that was that your heart rate had dropped dangerously low after the baby was born. So low that it had been considered a Code Blue. “But she’s a tough cookie. Right? We’ll bring her back in after her time in recovery.”
Jake didn’t know what to say or do.
He was being turned inside out by grief. There you were, short corridors and white tiles and chrome door knobs and metal chairs separating your body from his, and you were being dissected. A part of you had been killed by the little baby in front of him, faultlessly, and was being cut out.
“No, you decided it. And never for a second have I second-guessed it,” Jake says. You’re watching him with big, soft eyes. “I’ve been game from day one. I…Gale, I love that baby already. I’m all in. But are you?”
“Ask me that tomorrow,” you whisper.
Something heavier than guilt and thicker than anguish slammed down on top of Jake’s head, grabbed him by the ears, and forced him back into the chair he was sitting in. The nurse watched him cautiously, just then noting the crutches beside him.
“When is she coming back?” He heard himself ask.
“No telling,” the nurse said. She wished she had a more concrete answer--she knew how awful it must be to be on the outside of it all, waiting and worrying and wringing your hands together. “We’ll keep you posted. Hell, between me and you, I’ll keep you posted. That’s a promise. Okay?”
Jake nodded flatly.
“In the meantime, I thought I’d bring this little angel in to keep you company,” she’d said, then. A weight was lifted from her chest as Jake looked down at the baby for the first time properly--that was usually the part they melted. And she watched him melt--watched his shoulders fall and his brows slope and his lips tremble. “Ain’t she a beaut?”
Jake’s jaw trembled.
“Is she…is she okay?” Jake asked, eyebrows furrowed. He suddenly couldn’t stand the prospect of something happening to your baby girl, too. Already he loved her so much--she only just got here. She couldn’t leave. “She’s not…she isn’t hurt or anything, right?”
The nurse smiled at him, prideful by proxy.
“Healthy as a ham,” she confirmed. “All seven pounds of her are perfect.”
“Seven even?” Jake mused, unable to stop himself from smiling.
The nurse nodded.
“It’ll be her lucky number,” the nurse offered.
Seven. Seven’s have followed him all his life.
He was born on the seventh of June, the fifth child, which rounded out his family unit to a party of seven.
On his seventh birthday, the song Crystal Blue Persuasion debuted on the radio and he thought, very concretely, that he was the luckiest kid on the planet. Who got to share a birthday with the song of the decade?
He graduated college on the seventh of December, a semester later than the rest of his friends.
And you--he saw you for the very first time on the seventh of May at Camp Arcadia.
You were standing just up the gravel hill, talking to Maverick with your hands on your hips. The sun was so blinding that he had to squint and hold his hand over his eyes. He could see from the water that your feet and calves were covered in gray gravel dust--kicked up your shins, coating your knees. He watched you for a long time, ignoring Coyote’s splashing and Phoenix’s diving and the beating sun, watching your lips curve around every word that fell from your mouth. His spine suddenly prickled when your calves flexed and your belly tightened with laughter, when you smiled and the sun kissed your cheeks and sweat dripped down the column of your spine. He didn’t even mind that Rooster was the one who’d made you laugh, standing across from you with his arms crossed over his damp chest.
Things just melted away. Things like long division and baseball scores and Pink Floyd lyrics and urban legends and the memory of his tenth birthday--they were all gone, dissolving, pooling out of his ears. Nothing else besides this one thought sitting fat and proud in the soft shell of his skull: I want to wash the dust off her.
He had never thought anything like that before. It made his jaw quiver.
“What’re you looking at?” Coyote had finally inquired, hooking a sopping arm over Jake’s warm shoulders. Coyote turned, noticed you, then smiled. “Hey! Fresh meat.”
Jake didn’t look away from you.
“Javy,” Jake said seriously, evenly. He sucked in a deep breath, brows knitting. “I’m gonna marry her.”
“Yeah, good luck,” Javy had said back, chortling. “Girl wore her flip-flops on a hike.”
“It’s my lucky number, too,” Jake said quietly to the nurse, unable to stop himself. His brows knit. “Seven.”
“Aw, are you trying to impress daddy?” The nurse sang jovially down to the baby, a grin splitting her features. “You planned this, huh? Didn’t you?”
Jake swallowed hard, reeling.
“She’s so quiet,” he whispered to the nurse. He was the youngest child--he wasn’t ever around fussy baby sisters or even cranky cousins.
She glanced up at him, nodding.
“Just wait ‘til it’s time to change her diaper--that’ll get her hollering,” she said. She kept watching Jake and his clenched jaw. “Would you like to hold her? I can bring her to you--I see you’re a bit disposed currently.”
She pointed to the crutches.
Jake swallowed hard, his tongue suddenly made of sandpaper.
“Okay,” he said, too scared to say anything else.
“Go ahead and take your shirt off,” the nurse instructed Jake, not taking her eyes off Baby Girl Seresin as she carefully cradled her head. Jake blinked at her, brows furrowed. “We call it skin-to-skin or Kangaroo Care if you’re a fun nurse like me--the hours after birth are crucial for bonding. Best to do that with her skin on your skin.”
Jake nodded, slowly moving to slip out of his sweatshirt.
The nurse turned, cradling your baby in her plush arms, and Jake had never felt so small in his entire life. He sat still, skin goosing from the cold air, and watched the nurse move towards him with the bundle of blanketed baby in her arms.
“Just hold her head now,” the nurse urged as she transferred the baby into his arms.
“Like--?” Jake said, red in the face and neck and chest. “Like that?”
The baby was against his body, her little cheek pressed up against his collarbone, her tiny body sinking into his chest and stomach. He didn’t hear the nurse’s answer--he didn’t need to. As soon as his body registered her heat, the heat of a tiny and most precious human life, he knew the answer.
Yes, he was holding her right. He knew how to hold his daughter. It came to him suddenly and naturally, which people said would happen. He cradled her head with all that soft hair, which was the color of yours, and carefully touched her plush cheek.
“Oh,” he whispered quietly. Two fat tears rolled down his face and onto his neck. “Well, you’re just a tiny thing, aren’t you? You’re just a…a little mite.”
She whined, shuddered against him, before her body relaxed into him.
The nurse softly situated the blanket so it covered the two of them, pink with joy, and watched on for a few moments as Jake craned to look down at his daughter’s face. She knew he was gonna be a crier from the moment she laid eyes on him. She’s always privately vindicated when she’s correct about these things--some sort of nonverbal reinforcement that she’s meant for this.
He wasn’t sure how long the nurse stayed after that--his ears were ringing too loud for him to hear anything outside of the baby girl’s breaths.
He held her close, back teeth still clenched, and overwhelmed by her scent. She smelled like you--like your skin, your body. He knew, just from holding her, that you had held her. Held her close, inside of your body, closer to you than anything or anyone ever had been.
Already he could see you in her face--your brow, your nose, your mouth.
“My, my,” Jake whispered. It was funny--he had never been the kind of guy who said my-my before. His dad was the kind of guy to say my-my. Or maybe, Jake thought, every dad is the kind of guy that says it. A sad smile tugged on his lips. “Aren’t you just--just pretty as a picture? You look just like your mama. And your mama is the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my whole life. Can you believe that? Huh? Well, I’m no liar. I really mean it.”
She whined shortly, brow furrowing. He moved her down so her cheek was resting between his pecs, her little lips puckered and parted.
“I would’ve shaved for you if I’d known,” he whispered weakly, stray tears rolling off his chin and onto her hospital blanket. He stroked her cheek as she continued to slumber. “I’m sorry, baby-lou.”
♀
People have been in and out of the hospital room since, filtering like transients.
A nurse comes every hour to check your vitals, fiddling with your IV stand, pressing buttons on the machines beside your bed, smiling apologetically when the baby cries.
Doctors do their rounds in the morning and at night, talking about you and your condition just outside the door, giving Jake a curt nod in greeting.
And in between all of the people, the masks and the gloves and the hand sanitizer, Jake sits at your bedside with the baby tucked close to him. Everything is sterile and white and your oxygen is a constant hum in the background.
It’s late at night now--so late at night that it’s really almost morning--and Jake is slumped in the chair beside your bed. The baby is asleep just beside him in the incubator, lying on her back and dreaming silently. She’s a good baby--quiet. Peaceful. But he still won’t be more than a few feet away from her at any time--Hell, he won’t be more than a few inches away from her at any time.
Here he is, then. Sitting between his girls, both of them sleeping, waiting for something to happen.
“She should gain consciousness at any time,” he heard the doctor say that morning during rounds. “The extended loss of consciousness is due to the trauma sustained during operation.”
Your face is placid. You hardly wrinkle your nose or crinkle your brow or frown or do much of anything at all. You just sleep, reclined, wrapped up in tubes and wires and cords.
Beneath his aching fingers, your hair is soft. He strokes it carefully away from your face so it falls over the pillow, wishing he could smell your shampoo from here. He wishes he could smell any of you right now. You smell like the hospital now--more than you do after a twelve-hour shift.
He wonders what’s going on beneath your eyelids--if you’re dreaming or if there’s nothing like you’re sitting in a pool of black water. He hopes that you’re dreaming. Sweet, sweet dreams about all the summers before last, about all the almost-good days you’ve had since May. And if you’re not having sweet dreams, he hopes you’re just resting. That you’re just catching up on all the sleep you’ve missed having to sleep on your side, curling around a belly you resented.
“I hope you’re havin’ good dreams in there,” Jake whispers to you. He sniffles, itches his nose. He keeps trying not to cry--not once with success. “Like when we drove all around town, grabbing furniture from the curb. I’m still shocked you could pick that table up by yourself. I shouldn’t be, though--I don’t know why I haven’t learned by now. You’re stronger than me. Like, way stronger. Stronger than I’ll ever be.”
Nothing. No response. Just sleep.
He glances at the baby girl beside him--she’s still sleeping peacefully. He’ll have to wake her up in an hour or so to feed her. She’s a pensive little thing when he gives her a bottle. She furrows her brow as she gazes up at him, somewhere between cranky and grateful, trying to figure him out the same way he’s trying to figure her out. He feels like he’s being sized up each time he feeds her--it reminds him of you. When you look at him, it isn’t just that you see him--you see right through him, too, as if he’s just a piece of thin membrane you cohabitate with. He’ll always be honest with you and her because he knows dishonesty wouldn’t even get as far as the front door.
Now he looks back at you. No change again.
He keeps hoping that one of these times he looks away, he’ll return his gaze to you and find that you’re already looking at him. He bides his time, measures the movements of his eyes, when he isn’t looking at you to give you enough time to come to. Hoping. Praying.
But no change.
“I want you to wake up,” Jake whispers, voice trembling. “I know that you’re tired and I know that you could probably sleep for the next--for the next millennium and still be exhausted, but I want you to wake up, honey. C’mon, girly--wake up now. Wake up for me--wake up for her. You’ve got--we’ve got a daughter and you haven’t even met her yet. Well, maybe you have--like somewhere in the cosmos--but I don’t feel like that counts. So c’mon now and open your eyes. I wanna…I wanna talk to you. I wanna tell you that I’m sorry for picking a fight, that I’m--!”
Jake thinks about the blue light in the bedroom and the way it goosed your skin, chilled the marrow in your bones. He wishes he could puncture that moment, like a needle sinking into a balloon, and let all the cold air out. He wishes he could wrangle the sun and pull it close to you, close enough to burn the tip of your nose and make the hair on your head hot to the touch. He wishes he could just stop thinking about the argument--everything he said, everything you didn’t say. He just wishes you would wake up.
“Just wake up. Please.”
Without stirring at all, face calm and still, you wake up. It happens suddenly, like someone’s just said your name.
It is still dark and blue and pink and quiet. The snow is still falling outside the window and you’re still numb from below your chest, so your breaths are heavy and unreal. It’s still night--or, at least, it looks like it is.
Jake is sitting just beside the bed--you can imagine him pulling it all the way out and plopping down in it with his hair askew and his breathing hard--tears slipping down his cheeks and his brow furrowed as he strokes the back of your hand.
“What?” You whisper. Your voice is ragged and crumpled--this is when you know that it’s been a long time since you’ve spoken. Probably days.
Jake’s head snaps up--his face is suddenly facing yours.
“Baby?” He asks, on the edge of his seat as he reaches forward to fuss with your hair and your cheeks. He cups your chin, carefully navigating around the nasal cannula. “You wakin’ up, girly? Are you confused?”
He doesn’t know what you’re saying what about.
The muscles beneath your skin unfold like pressed flowers, brittle and delicate, as you reach up and wipe a tear from his chin. It’s a small and stray one. You weakly present the finger to him, the pad wet and glistening with salt, then nod.
“Did they find cancer or something?”
And it seems like precisely the moment Jake finally lets go. You don’t know how you know, but you know suddenly that he has been the cracking wall that’s held everything together, standing up straight and tall against thousands of pounds of dirt and water to protect the pristine valley below.
But he lets go now--his sobs suddenly puncturing the stale air in the hospital room, rousing the hair on your arms and legs and the phantom searing burn in your underwear.
He stands--it isn’t an easy thing to Jake Seresin to do, especially after missing a physical therapy appointment yesterday. But he does it, does it for you, locking his knees and gripping the metal rails on your hospital bed.
“I’m so happy,” he tells you and his Southern accent sounds thick right now--you know he gets like this when he’s been talking to his mama.
Okay; you know you must’ve been out for a while and he must’ve been calling his mama. You can deduce this. Make an educated guess.
He’s rapidly stroking your hair, in utter disbelief that you’re here again with him. It has only been two days without you--which is only forty-eight hours--but that is enough to make Jake feel like you’ve been out for an entire lifetime. Even one hour without you is one hour too long.
“Baby, I’m so happy,” he mutters over and over again, kissing your face--your eyelids, your nose, your ears, your cheeks, your chin. “I’m so fuckin’ happy.”
Reality is beginning to dawn on you now. It’s been days. Days since they cut the baby from your womb. You’re doped up enough to not feel anything at all, and you know they only give the good stuff when it’s serious. This must be serious.
Looking down, beyond the flurry of blonde hair and salt and skin, you see the deflated pit of your belly. Yes, the little stranger is gone. All that remains is the excess skin and fat and fluid that kept them warm and safe and quiet.
“Are you okay?” You ask Jake.
Jake holds both of your cheeks, presses his forehead against yours. Your face is wet with his saliva, his tears. He kisses your dry lips a few times.
“I’m the happiest guy around,” he tells you. “You’re awake.”
“Has it been that long?” You ask, straining and willing yourself to just know how much time has passed.
“Two days since they took you,” he tells you. “We were just waiting for you to wake up. Me and the little lady.”
Something punctures you--it feels like an ax. Sharp blade digging into the skin of your chest, snapping your bones, stopping the precise beats of your heart. But then it makes you warm all over your body, warm from the tips of your ears to the soles of your feet.
You have a daughter. Just like Susie told you that you would. Just like Bradley told you that you did.
A daughter.
Jake realizes what he’s said to you and watches as your face falls--fuck. He meant to tell you slower than this, meant to break the ice. He didn’t mean to throw you into the middle of it.
Two tears roll down your cheeks and he thumbs them away, tutting.
“A girl?” You whisper. “We have…a girl?”
“Yeah,” Jake answers, unable to bite the grin on his lips. “We do. A little mite--seven pounds even, eighteen inches long. She’s…well, she’s a mite. Tiny. Tinier than anything ever in the world. We’re gonna have to bathe her in a spoon.”
That makes you cry harder--you don’t know why. Maybe it’s because you’re scared or maybe it’s because you’re in love or maybe you’re scared to be in love. You don’t know. But you clutch him.
“Is she…?”
“She’s healthy,” he answers even though that is not the question you’re asking.
All the same, you nod. Petrification sits coiled in your belly like a slick snake.
He doesn’t want to pop the pink bubble you’re in right now, overwhelmed with goodness and graciousness that you’re finally awake, so he doesn’t say anything about the complications. He knows you’ll ask--and when you do, he’ll tell you. But for now, he just wants to be close to you and watch your pupils dilate in the dark room.
“Can you believe it?” Jake asks, sniffling. “A baby girl. A girl!”
Unable to speak, you just shake your head.
But you can believe it. You don’t know what happened and you don’t know where you went or why you didn’t stay, but you know that Bradley told you the truth. Your daughter, the one he gave you, was waiting on you.
Carefully, you peer over his shoulder. And, yes, right beside the chair he was sitting in is the incubator. It’s a big and bulky piece of machinery, but inside there is a little tiny baby’s face peeking out from a white cotton blanket. Her eyes are closed. Your toes are numb.
Jake follows your gaze.
“Do you wanna hold her?” He asks softly.
“No,” you answer quickly. “I’m still numb.”
Your arms aren’t numb--you could hold her. But you’re too afraid that she’ll open her eyes, that she’ll look at you, that you’ll know. Then what will you do? You never got this far in any nightmare.
Jake nods, kissing your forehead again.
“Okay,” he whispers. “Okay, baby. That’s fine. That’s all good.”
♀
Jake isn’t in the room. He left only a few minutes ago, crutches tucked beneath his arms and hands holding your empty dinner tray, pleased as ever before that you were awake with an appetite and sitting up in bed. He kissed your face one thousand times, grinning, before leaving his girls alone to make some calls in the hallway.
So, it’s just you and her now. She’s still sleeping in her incubator, all tucked in, which has been pulled up against the side of your bed so you can hold her when you’re ready. You know that Jake is eager for you to hold her--you know that it’s what he’s dreamed about for the past nine months.
But the potential horror of it all is sitting in your throat, making it hard to swallow. You won’t survive another summer like the one before. And if you take her in your arms, if you look into those eyes and know, then you’ll have to reckon with terror all over again. You can’t. You can’t do it.
You’re only alone for a few minutes whenever you decide to pull down your blankets--they’re thick and heavy, warm from trapping all your heat. A gust of you-perfumed air slips underneath your nose and onto your tongue. You smell like the hospital.
The gown you’re wearing is new--it’s not the one you wore before, when you first came to the hospital and they told you that you were already three centimeters dilated. You know because there is no jell-o stain on your chest, because there are hardly any wrinkles. It’s pristine. Placed on your body by a nurse while you were still under anesthesia.
“Weird,” you mutter to yourself because it is weird and you need to hear your own voice. How out of control you were just hours and hours ago, asleep while you were cut. “Strange. Odd.”
Pulling the hem of the gown, your tongue thick with saliva, you pull it up slowly. The fabric is warm as it pools beneath your breasts, already crinkling with the movement. Part of you was expecting to see red streaks, puss-filled burns, loose stitches--but that isn’t what is really there.
No, what’s there is everything that should be. Bandages. Yellow antibiotic. Gauze.
Gently, you reach down and press your fingers to the gauze. You can’t feel it on your belly, but you can feel it with the tips of your fingers--it’s smooth and warm. If you didn’t know better, you would rip it off and look at all the scars that make up your belly now.
A very quiet whine breaks your gaze from your belly.
Looking up, squinting in the dark room, you glance at the clock. It’s closing in on six in the morning, which you know you’re gonna regret later today. Shit. She needs to eat--Jake said he’d wake her up before he left but had forgotten to in all the excitement and relief of you waking up.
“Shh,” you whisper quietly, rolling your gown back down and letting your curled hands fall in your lap. With wide eyes, you watch as she begins to turn her head slowly from side to side, blinking herself awake. She whines again--louder, longer. “Hush now, it’s okay. It’s fine.”
That’s when she cries for the first time--it sounds like a baby’s cry, like all the other babies in the world. It’s not deep and guttural or strange and silent. It’s just a baby’s cry.
“It’s okay,” you try again, voice weak. You glance at the closed door, willing Jake to bust through. “Daddy’ll be back any--he’ll be back any minute now, alright? Can’t you just wait it out?”
It becomes shrill--finally, you move.
Ears ringing and pulse quickening, you scoot yourself closer to the edge and look down at her. She’s becoming more and more upset by the second, her fists balled and her mouth parted and wet.
“Here,” you whisper, grabbing the corner of the incubator and pushing it before pulling it. Makeshift rocking. “There, it’s okay. See. I’m here.”
You continue pushing and pulling, the wheels squeaking, and the baby does not stop crying. You glance at the door again--Jake is still not here.
It’s like something pops--all of the sudden, you can’t take it anymore. Fibers that make up your body and soul and heart suddenly vibrate like splitting atoms and move your body for you. Suddenly you can’t just sit on the edge of the bed and rock her with your teeth grit--you have to reach down and take her in your arms.
Blinking, sitting back against the bed, you look down at the baby stunned. She’s in your arms, wrapped in cotton, still crying herself into a cloudy face. But she’s pressed up against your body and you can feel her weight in your arms--all seven exact pounds of her--and you can’t help but marvel for a moment. She’s real. A real human being with frowning lips and a voice and hair sticking out from beneath the ridiculous hospital beanie.
“What’s got you so upset?” You whisper to her because you don’t know what else to say. “Huh? You just a feisty little thing or something? You’re…well, you’re like me, then. I guess.”
When you speak--the cries begin to quiet down. Like all she needed to know was that you were there with her, that you would speak to her. Her mouth slowly closes and her eyes begin to slowly blink themselves open.
Your heart nearly stops when her eyes meet yours for the first time. You’d imagined this before, thought about it on coffee breaks and while brushing your teeth or stirring a pot of soup in the kitchen. You’ve imagined them one thousand times since you looked into them for the first time at Camp Arcadia, when you saw all the light dissipated and flecks of gold washed away from Bradley’s eyes.
All this time, these long nine months since the Camp Arcadia Annihilation, you’ve imagined that this creature is the one that ushers in your demise. But now she’s here, blinking up at you with her father’s eyes--flecks of gold surround her brown velvet irises.
“Oh, my--!” You choke, bringing a quivering finger up to touch her cheek. It’s plush and warm and she keeps slowly blinking up at you. “Well--my, my, my, aren’t you so…you’re so pretty. You’re the prettiest baby I’ve ever seen.”
Parts of you are melting that have been frozen since July.
“Oh, my baby,” you whisper to her. She gazes up at you, eyes glazed over with sleep and love and antibiotics. “It’s so good to meet you.”
Jake comes back into the room ten later, having called Javy and Natasha and rattled off all of the baby’s statistics and updated them on your condition. When he opens the heavy door, he finds you on the bed and holding the baby in your arms as she nurses. There are tears falling off your nose and onto her blanket, a small smile tugging on your lips.
His heart swells in his chest. He thinks he might keel over for a minute.
But then you look up at him, awestruck and so in love that it’s practically written across your forehead in Magic Marker. And he can’t help but come to your side, can’t help but keep moving forward to be near you.
He kisses your temple long and hard, glances down at the baby as she suckles. Her hat is gone--you must’ve taken it off to look at all of her hair. He strokes her hair gently and watches her eyes slowly slip shut.
“She’s kind of perfect,” you whisper to him. “I wasn’t…I wasn’t expecting that.”
Jake glances at you. You’re looking at him with knit brows, with your lips held in a partial frown.
“Yeah?” He asks. “What were you expecting?”
“More of the same,” you whisper.
He knows what you mean: horror. For things to end the way they ended at camp--in flames.
He kisses your temple again.
You look at him, tear-stained and worn out and lovesick. This man, this man who threw himself in front of an ax for you and somehow lived through it just to live in a little house with you and share a carton of orange juice every week, looks back at you like he’s never loved you more than this very moment. Maybe he hasn’t before--maybe every moment beyond this one will be just like this, so chalk-full of love that it spills out of your ears.
And you have left him on the outside of everything. Everything bad and everything good, everything you’ve thought and felt and said to Dr. Messina. It’s on the outside of this bubble, waiting for you to come back. But you know, without a doubt, that he will love you through all the ugly.
“I’ve got a lot to tell you, Jake,” you whisper to him.
He’s choked up. So, he just nods. He kisses your forehead again.
Thank you, God, he thinks. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
“We’ve got a lot to do,” he whispers to you.
You nod, laughing quietly. You don’t have a crib set up. You don’t have any clothes washed. But there’s a certain peace sitting in your chest, a certain calmness that you haven’t known in a very long time. Because it’s okay. It’s really, really okay. You will do all of these things in time, but for now, you’ll just hold the seven-pound baby girl against your breast and give her every single part of you. It’s all that matters to you.
Suddenly, the baby turns her cheek away from your breast. She doesn’t cry, but she whines, nuzzling against your gown and balling her fists.
“You’re okay, birdie,” Jake whispers, stroking the top of her head. Her hair feels like feathers. “It’s okay, baby.”
“Birdie,” you repeat yourself, looking down at her placid face as she finds your chest again and resumes eating. Your spine prickles. “Birdie.”
“Haven’t heard that name in a long time,” Jake says slowly. “I don’t know why I--it kinda just fell out of my mouth. Couldn’t help it.”
“Maybe it’s what she wants to be called,” you whisper. “Do you wanna be Birdie?”
Sunlight suddenly breaks through the gray clouds and punctures the cracked asphalt parking lot. It is not a lot of fun--but it is just enough to draw your gaze over to the window, where you watch as it gleams off windshields and piles of sludgy snow.
Oh, you think. It’s finally morning.
𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. WE COULD TALK ABOUT HOW THIS WAS ME AVOIDING THIS STORY ENDING BECAUSE I LOVE IT SO MUCH + I'M REALLY BAD AT GOODBYES. BUT WE COULD ALSO SAY THAT IT'S BECAUSE I WANTED IT TO BE PERFECT. EITHER WAY...
FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY LITTLE HEART, THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERY SINGLE PERSON WHO READ THIS STORY. THE REACTION I'VE GOTTEN HAS BEEN SO UNEXPECTED AND MAGICAL AND FANTASTIC. I HAVE ENJOYED EVERY SINGLE MOMENT OF SHARING THIS WITH EVERYONE. Y'ALL ARE SOME OF THE FUNNIEST PEOPLE ON THE INTERNET AND YOUR REACTIONS TO THIS STORY PROVED THAT.
THIS IS MY LOVE LETTER TO HORRO, BUT ALSO GRIEF. I'M PROUD OF IT. I'M PROUD OF ME. I'M PROUD OF YOU. THANK YOU FOR ALLOWING ME TO SHARE THIS. I'M HUMBLED AND GRATEFUL. STAY TUNED HERE ON ROOSTERBRUISER BECAUSE WE HAVE SOME REALLY FUN STUFF COMING UP. I'M NOT DONE YET!
𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐒
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#words cannot describe how I feel about this story#this is in the Riley’s library hall of fame#cruel summer#jake hangman x reader#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin#jake x reader#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw x reader#Riley’s library#reblogs
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OHHHHH EM GOSH! SPEECHLESS! I am ruined. A wreck. This was a gem. A treasure. Now let’s talk about why you are constantly coming for my existence with your fics. One minute I’m grinning, next cheering and a moment later I’m unwell, heartbreaking for my loves. The emotions you evoke in writing these two is an absolute chef’s kiss, a damn masterpiece! This was worth the wait. Go ahead and inject every last drop of this into my veins because I am obsessed and love, love how this turned out.
SCREAMING, JUMPING UP AND DOWN because the fight, the banter, the flirting, the show home and alleyway, PURE OXYGEN for my DickKory heart. I love that you capture the very essence of who they are, that no matter who they are or what stage of their lives they are in, heck no matter the universe they will always be DickKory. Soulmates, your honor.
This chapter was everything and so much more. The angst. The smut. The tenderness. The whole concept is a breath of fresh air. The way you weaved in the similarities and differences of both Dicks and captured the connection between past Dick and Kory is pure perfection. Had me captivated from beginning to end. I don’t even know what else to say other than you need to come back and drop the final chapter.
Title: Take These Guns From Me (I Can’t Shoot Them Anymore)
Summary:
This is not the man she knows.
This stranger is something else entirely, a ball of pain and anger encased in flesh and bone. He came to this alley tonight looking for war, toeing a line between justice and vengeance that Kory knows he slips on in this time more often than he’d like. He came here with the desire to have blood coating his knuckles like he could kid himself into thinking he could cleanse the world that way. His heart is racing, she can tell, he smells of ash and sweat and something she knows to be Dick Grayson lurking underneath.
But he didn’t find war in this dirty Gotham back alley, he found her instead.
/ Set during Purple Rain - To save Kory’s life Rachel throws her back in time. Whilst there, Kory stumbles upon Dick Grayson during his bloody crusade as Robin. The consequences of this moment will ripple across timelines.
Characters: Dick Grayson/Kory Anders, Rachel Roth, Gar Logan, Conner Kent.
Chapters: 1 of 2.
It’s here! My smutty and angsty time travel epic - I’m so proud of how this one turned out! I hope you all enjoy and don’t worry, chapter 2 will be on the way soon enough!
Tagging:
@not-so-mundane-after-all-97 @meetmeunderthestarrynight @escapism-through-imagination @ambeauty @ambelle @redhairgreeneyes1 @lady-stirling
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WW is really giving me EVERYTHING I need!! Ohhh I am unwell!!!!! And you always stop RIGHT when I need moooreee 🥲 Being behind was kinda an advantage for me this time because I got to be in both of their heads back to back 🥹🥹🥹 THE ANGST and the PINING! Chefs kiss bestie! I can’t deal with the tension and this banter and flirting 🥲 Also if Kory braids his hair I will just fall apart 🫠🫠🫠 thank you for tagging me again because my god I was missing out!!!
WANDERING WORLDS
DickKory | Core Four Centric | Cannon Divergence | Longfic
Summary:
Dick Grayson is dead. His life taken by his own brother. The Abel to Jason’s Cain. Consumed by grief, Rachel gives in to despair, losing control, a portal opens, but from it no destroyer of words come through. Instead a man who looks just like him, how can he be?
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*90's infomencial voice* Tired of Dick Grayson getting no character growth every season? Can stand the lack of development? The fact that we barely got any DickKory content since season one? I have just what you need! *normal voice* Okay, so in this fic Dick died, and Rachel pulled an alternative version of him from a dying universe, a version of him that will not take his family, Kory and his life for granted, he's not perfect, but he's doing his best.
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Chapter Fourteen – What stars do best
Much like when she was just back from Okaara, Kory felt like she was sleep walking. After five years living as a soldier, to be back at the palace, being waited around and having to get used with hierarchy that had nothing to do with her accomplishments. Being smothered in faux respect that she was just born into having instead of proving herself to earn felt empty. Most of her days back then, felt wrong, like a dream scenario in which she was just about to wake, but never did. It was no wonder that when the opportunity arrived, she jumped into a Spaceship and set route to far away from the Vega System.
It has been so long since she even remembered the sensation of fragile reality. Tamaran and Earth never seemed so closer.
The shiver that spread through her body when his deep sigh sent a wave of warm air against her neck didn’t exactly help.
“I always hated this things, did….”
Her hand changed it’s grip around the flute of champagne, trying to not break it, but also afraid it could sleep through her satin covered fingers and fall, making a scene.
“I don’t know,” she said with a soft hum, guessing the question before he could even finish “he never told me much about this part of his life.”
Never told her anything at all, she added bitterly. And she was never the detective in that relationship. Not she didn’t have tried her best. At some point she became to hide things too, secrecy rubbing on her like poison.
“I see that this world’s Bruce is also always late, ‘like a proper bride’ Alfred used to say,” he continued to mumble, mostly to himself. Kory bit her lips when he faked a british accent in his impersonation.
“I wish I had met him.”
“Al?” he looked at her then, but was he seeing her? Or it would always be someone else? “He’d like you.”
“You think?”
“Oh yes, I bet he would call you your highness and everything.”
Kory faked a dramatic groan.
“About that… Please tell me that the parties in your castle in Tamaran are better than this nonsense.”
It meant to be good-natured banter she knew, even genuine curiosity, but the déjà-vu was so powerful that she felt the wind being stolen from her lungs. Kory shaky hands wobbled the flute to her lips, but thankfully before she had to say anything or spilled the drink on her dress, the hosts were introduced and the attention moved to Bruce. He kissed Selina’s cheek and approached the pulpit in the centre of the small stage.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. When I was in my early thirties I was lost. I was older than my father ever had the chance to become and I had nothing to show as prove that I deserved to survive that horrible night. And then, a miracle happened in the form of a little boy” Kory felt him shift beside her, she turned her eyes away from Bruce to Dick. His jaw was tense, but his eyes were dry.
“Suddenly, I had a reason to live other than myself. I had under my care someone as broken as I once was, and a chance to prove to him and to my own heart, that life goes on, and that, although, the sadness over the loss of those we love and miss never really goes away, it can turn into a powerful force for good, it can become hope.”
Kory saw him suck a breath in and search for her hand, that she promptly took. Dick’s eyes met hers then, she tried to smile and he rose the corner of his lip on the side of the scar. Hope, Bruce said. Could it really become that?
“And now, I hope that the Richard Grayson-Wayne Community Center will help boys and girls in Metropolis and prove to them that every broken wing, with care, patience and love can heal, and together, we will soar to better skies,” Bruce rose his cup forward. “To my son, Dick. Thank you.”
They had to let go of each other to join the clapping that ensued.
“And now, that you have me on record saying all that emotional stuff, no doubt Miss Lane will write it’s only a strategy to manipulate money out of your pockets” the audience laughed politely, “enjoy the party!”
“Are you alright?” Kory whispered.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you, though?”
“I’ll be if you dance with me.”
The nerve of his of looking so pale and yet throwing her that line.
“Bruce will want to talk to you,” she warned him, but the smile on her lips was too hard to fight.
Dick pulled the half-empty flute of champagne from her hand and placed it on the empty plate of a passing footman.
“He made me wait until now, he can wait until the end of a song.”
Something inside Kory still screamed that she shouldn’t. X’hal, what she was even doing? Pretending with this man? But what else could she even do? Where would she even go? She had ran away to not have to be told what to do ever again, and now that she had her so called freedom, all she wanted was someone to tell her the path she should take.
Instead, Kory slid her arms around his neck, and let him sway her away with the music.
“It’s been a while since I did anything like this,” he said against her ear,” I apologise in advance if I step on your toes.”
She smiled but couldn’t think of anything witty to retort, just humming softly to disguise a moan when his hands closed around her waist, firmly, but gently leading them both across the ballroom. He smelled like something flowery, which was surprising, men of Earth usually chose forestry scents, she took a deep breath of it and laid her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes.
It did feel like a dream, the way his heart beat against hers, steady and real, how comfortably his shoulder pillowed her head, how perfectly her body fit in his arms, how safe she felt there, how easy was to just let go. Maybe… Maybe this dream could last. Maybe she was tired of denying herself the little piece of heaven that was close enough to grasp.
“You never told me she glowed,” Selina’s voice sounded so far away, it was had to open her eyes and acknowledge that the song was over.
With a sigh, Kory untangled herself from Dick, and smiled to the elder woman.
“You’re too sweet.”
Dick, who still had one of his hands on her waist, held her a little closer, pulling her attention back to him.
“No,” he had his eyebrows up in amazement, “she means literally, Koriand’r, you’re glowing, look,” he pointed to the decorative mirrors on the wall.
Shock and happiness filled Kory’s body when she saw herself covered in golden glow, euphoria so great that she felt her body lighting up, and before she made a scene ascending to the ceiling, she turned back to Dick, throwing her arms around his shoulders and holding for dear life.
“What is happening? Is something wrong with you?”
There was so much concern in his voice, and all she wanted was laugh so loud people would hear her in San Francisco.
“Wrong? No, not anymore. Dick,” she said, her hands sliding from his shoulders to his face, “I can fly.”
His smile began slow, and then took his whole face, dimples and everything, reaching his eyes. It was the first time she had seen him show honest joy like that, it was like her own happiness was spilling and contaminating him, and if Bruce haven’t cleaned his throat, maybe, just maybe she would have kissed him. And maybe, just maybe, he would not reject her.
“Good evening, Miss Anders. I’d recommend you to tone down the glowing if you don’t want to be outed as an alien. The room is filled with reporters.”
Kory felt her face heat up.
“In honesty, I can’t control it,” she laughed “never been able to.”
Bruce rose one eyebrow at that, and Dick, pulled her wrist as if he wanted her to get behind him, his face was stiff again, his eyes locked to Bruce as if waiting an attack.
“Let’s get her out of prying eyes, then” said Selina, grabbing Kory’s hand away from Dick, “and let you boys talk.”
Dick’s eyes moved away from Bruce seeking hers with a questioning look.
Kory didn’t seem capable to stop smiling, she rose her free hand back to his face, caressing his cheek with her thumb.
“See you later, Grayson.”
“Koriand’r…” he tried to protest, but Selina intervened.
“Kitten, let her go, don’t you trust me?”
Dick’s eyes remained locked to hers until he seemed to find something in them that reassured him that she wouldn’t disappear in thin air. Sometimes it felt like he knew, somehow, that he could read her like a book, all her worries. As if her soul had been confining in him whether she intended to or not.
***
“So… things are going well between the two of you, I see.”
“Excuse-me?”
They had been walking through the gardens for a while, and then Selina stopped them both under a lighting post to disguise the dim glow that Kory was still emanating.
“I don’t mean to offend, you dear.”
“You didn’t, I was merely distracted,” she kept wanting to look behind towards the party, towards Dick.
“I was right, then?”
“No… It’s complicated.”
“Honey, complicated is my speciality.”
Kory smiled at her glowing hands, she wanted to test her powers, she needed to see how much she could yield. Of course she needed to charge, she needed the sun, and it was way past dusk, but if she could glow, and float, surely some of her fire was back too.
“It’s better than it was in the beginning, that I can say.”
“Better than the rendezvous in our tea room?” Selina asked in a coyly voice that contrasted with the shock that took Kory’s body.
“X’hal! How you know about that?!”
Selina giggled and held the hand Kory had taken to her mouth.
“No need to be ashamed, honey, I was young once too. The Manor security system is really thorough. Don’t worry, I deleted everything, not even Bruce knows.”
They stood in silence for a moment as Kory tried to expurgate the feelings of shame from her body. In Tamaran she would never have such reserves. Not about sex, at least, sleeping with someone you barely know ad that could very much be an enemy, maybe. She had been on Earth too long, she didn’t want to go native those regards.
“That was a mistake,” Kory finally said, taking a sip of her drink.
“Was it?” Selina hummed. “I used to say that to myself a lot too, but soon enough I found myself on my back or knees on some hard concrete rooftop making more mistakes.”
They exchanged a look and laughed. That eased Kory a little. Selina was different from the other Earthen women she had met. She had an air of freedom that Kory envied. Maybe because she was older and lived past the bullshit morality pushed towards Earthen women, or maybe it was just her personality. It seemed that she could make anyone do her biding and no one could tell her what to do. Couldn’t be easier to be like that and love a control freak like Bruce Wayne.
“How you do it?”
“How I do what?”
“How can you be with him when you know that in another world he killed you? How can you trust him?”
Selina laughed loudly at that.
“Honey, I’ve forgiven him for worse, and he forgiven me. And I’m pretty sure, that, in most parallel realities I’m the one murdering him. God knows the thought crosses my mind at least once a day.”
Kory smiled and shook her head.
“How long have you two been in love?”
Selina seemed to really think about it, playing absently to the string of pearls around her neck.
“Oh… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels it’s something older than both of us, starting from other lives.”
Kory really didn’t expect that answer or the honesty in which was said.
“That sounds romantic.”
“I know! You can’t barely tell that I spent my nine lives being a cynic bitch. Old age does that to you. With some luck, you will find out.”
“Lets drink to that,” said Kory rising her glass.
“To being old and mellow,” said Selina raising hers too.
“Cheers!”
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I’ve been asked before to write about Selina and Kory interacting, and I finally managed to do it! But the next chapter is the last one with the Waynes, after that, Dick and Kory go back home to their family.
Please leave a comment if you are reading this story, anything counts as encouragement to keep me going through the hiatus between seasons
#fic recs#I’m weeping and longing for the next update#when the tension breaks I know it’s gonna be sooooo goood#shoutout to family trauma making an appearance 🫣
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