#a dream. a passing mention. a debate on baby names. anything. and to hear nothing.

[quietwingsinthesky]

Hiiiii! So, a few days ago you were talking about the whole thing with Amy, Rory, and River. And when I saw those posts a thought arose in my head and I wish to share it with you.

Since River grew up with Amy and Rory as Mels. And Mels was Amy's best friend do you think that they ever talked about children? Since I know that it can come up when talking with friends, and like... do you think that Amy might've ever expressed whether or not she wanted children?

And if she didn't, that Mels would've had to listen to her mother say that she doesn't want children? The idea is so heartbreaking and sooo interesting.

What do you think about it?

no, no, see, you're so right and this drives me wild.

because, the way i see it, i don't think amy wanted children. she's somewhere on the 'hasn't thought about it' to 'vaguely negative feelings about it happening' range to me, which falls sharply into 'Not Happening Ever Again' post-s6. (specifically, in terms of having a kid herself, even if she could, i really don't think she would. i do love that she and rory end up adopting a kid later, because that does make sense, for amy pond who grew up alone in one universe with her family swallowed by cracks in time before the doctor helped her set it right again, for her to want to make sure another child won't be alone in the world like she was. getting off-track here.)

and that's so. because the first real memory river/mels has of amy is of amy shooting at her. and depending on how well the silence fucked up the rest of her memory, it might be one of the very first memories she has at all. that's how she met her mother, crying for help and getting a bullet instead. her mother tried to kill her, so of course, you have to think. she must have needed to hear that she was wanted, right? even if she was taken away, even if amy shot her, at some point, melody must have been wanted?

river is good at getting people to do what she wants, but she is very, very bad at subtlety. and mels is younger, has less practice, so when she wants to know this, she's just going to ask. blunt and quick, easy enough because amy's used to the way mels will open her mouth and you just have to be ready to roll with what comes out if you want to keep up. it's why they're such good friends (like mother, like daughter.)

they're nine, and mels asks if amy wants kids, and amy wrinkles up her nose and says she won't have time for children, obviously, once her raggedy doctor finally comes back. they're fifteen, and amy and rory dance will they-won't they in a way that makes mels twitchy to watch, and taunting amy about wanting to have rory's babies is a good way to get on her nerves. but amy calls her gross, tells her she's got more life planned than children would leave room for, and besides, imagine her, a mom? it'd be a disaster.

mels does. a lot. she looks at her mother and just sees her best friend instead. she's not even sure what she wishes was there, but. maybe amy's right. and besides. imagine her, a daughter, instead of the ticking time bomb she really is? it'd be a disaster.

they're sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and on. mels stands on the outside of a love story that births a universe. and her. how do you compete with that? not that she would know, not yet, she hasn't been there. but it doesn't make her feel any less alienated when amy and rory talk in whispers about a half-remembered world that's bled through to this life, about roman soldiers and boxes and the big bang of belief.

all these memories, they never mention children. on amy's wedding day, she's different, not like someone remembering a dream but someone who lived it. rory stands straighter, won't leave her side, and they're both so much older than they were yesterday. maybe now, right? a wedding's as good a time as any to decide you want kids.

mels not being at amy & rory's wedding is such an obvious lazy way of them trying to explain why they totally didn't just throw this plot twist together at the last minute that i'm not even going to acknowledge it. of course she was at their wedding. she's their best friend. there's too many people around the doctor, and she wasn't ready today of all days, so despite this horrible burning need under her skin to strike, she stays her hand. doesn't let him dance with her because she might just tear his throat out if he gets too close. stays with amy and rory as the maid of honor should. she must have been there for the awkward questions that always gets asked, 'so, any plans for a baby?' 'when am i getting grandkids?' 'oh, you two are going to have gorgeous children together.' standing a few feet from amy in her wedding dress and watching her mother tense and grit her teeth and brush off the questions. watching her look nervously at rory but never ask if he means it when his mom asks him if he'd prefer a son or a daughter, and rory answers 'either one, some day, not anytime soon.'

god i'm just going on and on, aren't i. but really, what's it like to know that amy never changed her mind. the next time she sees them, she's already been born and stolen. i don't like let's kill hitler for. so many reasons. but there is something compelling about how recklessly river lashes out at the world, at the doctor. even her sacrifice at the end is almost suicidal, throwing all her regenerations into this man without knowing if that will even work or if it might kill her to do it. but it makes more sense in the context of someone who has reached the end of a long, long wait for some kind of indication, any kind, that her mother wanted to have her. and finally been told, no. she didn't choose melody.

[vocalyunho]

Split

B{oyfriend}est Friend - part two (part one)

pairing — Wooyoung x Female! Reader (San is only mentioned).

genre — angst, romance, smut, in no particular order.

word count — 4.8k

warnings — other than the angsty part...mentions of drinking and smoking, oral sex (reader receiving), clit play, fingering, explicit unprotected sex, the eagle (position), hitting it from the back, multiple orgasms, slight spanking.

“I love you, I’m sorry”

It’s been a month since that night, but San’s words keep replaying in your mind every day.

“Don’t say anything...I don’t wanna hurt more”

None of the three of you have brought up what happened that night. You keep meeting up -not as frequently as you used to, San seems to be busy most of the time- and acting as you did before, but not really. It feels like they’re both trying to forget about this ‘experience’, but you can’t. Nothing’s the same for you anymore. Your childhood best friend admitted he loved you, for fuck’s sake! You can't brush it off like it’s nothing.

“...that’s why ‘I love you’ has more of an emotional effect on the brain when it’s whispered into the left ear”. Your train of thought got interrupted by your professor’s voice and you felt your heartbeat increasing.

“have you ever been told you’re loved this way, sir?” the boy in front of you tensed up visibly at the professor’s question.

“n-no”

“Let’s hope you’ll get told soon, then”

Your mind traveled to that night again. San had whispered it in your ear, afraid of Wooyoung hearing him. You can still hear his erratic breathing while saying it, but in which ear was it? You can’t recall this detail at all. Or... what if, maybe, you imagined it, you thought he said it but he never did. Is that it? Your mind could have just played a game at this moment of euphoric pleasure that made you hear such a heavy thing from him. No, this can’t be it, this isn't a thing you can just imagine of, it has to be told to always have it in mind like you do.

The past month you had more than enough time to think of what happened and why. You've stayed numerous of nights in, all alone, with the excuse that you have lots of studies and projects due to the upcoming weeks, but all of them were only your secret way to stay with yourself and your latest best friends, wine and cigarettes. And that's exactly what you did after all lectures today were over. It's already dark outside but still only 8pm and as you're sitting on the couch and the second glass of wine slowly empties itself, a third one seems very inviting right now. There's nothing new to think about...all you do is just overthink everything over and over again and letting all the guilt eat you alive, like you have nothing better to do.

Your feelings are all over the place, a mess if you will. You don't even know what or how you feel anymore. You brought this all to yourself but, still, your heart keeps beating faster and faster when you replay San's words in your mind. You thought the crush you had on him when you were kids had stayed in the past. You were sure you had completely grown out of it and, especially, after you both entered college, because he had his good number of girlfriends or, maybe, 'experiences' and you had too. And after you met Wooyoung, who's the best guy you've met so far, everything seemed perfect but was it, really?

After gulping down the last drops of the wine and putting out the cigarette, you made your way to your bedroom to get a small backpack ready for staying over at Wooyoung's tonight. He seemed more serious today than other times. When he asked you to meet him in the campus cafeteria before going home, you thought he wanted to spend some time with you before heading to his next class, but you were wrong.

“Do you wanna stay over tonight?”, he had asked with no expressions on his features.

“I was thinking of studying till late”

“Can’t you do that tomorrow?”

“I guess...I can”

Truth is, you had planned to reach out to San this evening. He might be acting normal when you meet, but not only has he been weirdly busy lately, but also he hasn’t sent you a single text the past month. You don’t even see his contact on your latest calls anymore. It’s like he doesn’t exist in your life, because other than seeing him on campus or when the three of you hang out, there’s no more contact after that.

“I’ll be home at around 8pm, can you come over maybe an hour later?”

“okay, baby”

“okay I’m off then, I’ll see you tonight”, he had said with, still, no expression but he did give you a kiss before heading to his next class, which lightened the heaviness in your stomach. He hadn't told you the reason why he wanted you to spend the night at his apartment...you usually stay over on weekends, but today’s Tuesday and you both have early classes tomorrow. Something was really bothering him, but you decided to wait till he was off classes and the busy day he had ahead of him.

You sat on the couch again, waiting for the right time to leave your apartment and you let your mind wander around again. Wooyoung had really agreed to do this and you know it’s something he wouldn’t agree to do with just anyone. He accepted it, because he trusts both you and San. But San has feelings for you and not just some feelings...he loves you. Fuck, the guilt is eating you alive. He loves you, but he hasn’t told you a single word about it since then.

You unlocked your phone and searched for his name. Having to search it up, instead of finding it on top of your DMs gave you a bittersweet feeling. You stayed there, staring at the bright screen, mentally debating if it’s really worth it to reach out to him.

8:48pm.

To Sannie ♡

“We need to talk”.

“Text me when you see this”.

Putting your jacket on and the backpack over it, you left and 10 minutes later you were face to face with a serious Wooyoung who just opened the door.

“hey, baby”, you smiled at him.

“come in, it’s cold”

He didn’t kiss you like he usually does and like he did this morning in the cafeteria, but you set your backpack in a corner and made your way to the living room in which Wooyoung was already waiting for you.

“Are you okay today? You seemed a little off on campus”, you said placing your phone on the coffee table.

“We need to talk”. Cold sweat washed your body. You knew what this was about.

“about what?”

“Do you still like me like you did in the beginning? Am I good enough?”, he looked at you and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Of course, Wooyoung...is that even a question?”

“Then why did this threesome happen?”

His question caught you off guard, but it felt like you were expecting to get it at some point. Why had it happened, really? There’s no logical and right state of mind in which this idea would strike one’s mind.

“I...don’t know...”

“That’s not an answer” he stared in your eyes, “you were the one who suggested it”.

“honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking”, your eyes met the floor. You really don’t know what was going through your mind that night. You had spoken too fast without letting your tongue dive in your mind first.

“Did you really want him to fuck you this bad?”

“what! NO!”

“well, it seemed like it though...was the ‘threesome’ just an excuse, so that the guilt of cheating on me wouldn’t eat you up later?”, he emphasized the word threesome with air quotes and cocked a brow at the end.

“No, Wooyoung...you got the wrong idea!!”

“It hurts, Y/N”

You froze. His voice got low suddenly, almost like a whisper, like he never meant to say it out loud. It never crossed your mind how he felt about it. What would you have thought if he had asked one of his girl friends to have a threesome with you? Suspicion would be the number one thing in your mind. Suspicion, because it’d mean that you’re not doing enough, you don’t please him enough, you’re not being enough and that’s exactly what the thing you had asked for, made him think. You were so blind by lust that his feelings passed by you without touching you a bit. You made him question himself, you made him insecure. You couldn’t see his eyes, not even his entire face, but your mind only told you to step closer and grab his hands.

“Baby, look at me”

“Y/N, I’m not stupid”, he snapped his head up to meet your gaze.

“I was too taken aback and, maybe, too overwhelmed at the sight of my closest people almost fighting for me. I think, I got carried away by the strong emotions of the moment. I’m not trying to find excuses, because there aren’t any, but the one thing I’m sure about is that I didn’t intend for this to happen, I hadn’t planned it and I had never even thought of it, for fuck’s sake!”. You were looking straight at his eyes, your eyebrows slightly furrowed by the wave of emotions hidden in your mind right now.

“I get that making a scene about him acting weirdly around you, was probably too much at the moment, but I do see how he looks at you, Y/N”.

“He doesn’t look at me in any way, Wooyoung”.

“You have no idea how he looks at you, because you never see him. But at this moment -as he was making love to you- he looked so drunk in you, like he had been dreaming about it, like he had been asking for it his entire life”.

“He’s my friend, Wooyoung and I get it, this night was a big fucking mistake that I never want to make again”.

“he might be, but he wants to be more than that”

“I can assure you, he doesn’t”

“San likes you, Y/N!”

“STOP! I know him since we were kids...if something was to happen, it’d have already happened! Now, please, cut this nonsense”, you felt him tense up before letting his hands go.

“No, I won’t! I could see how much he was enjoying having his dick shoved inside you. And you were enjoying it too!!”

“Are you even hearing what you’re saying?”

“It was like all he ever wanted was that, that exact thing that happened that night except for me being there! He has feelings for you, strong ones, and I don’t know if he’s trying to hold them back because we’re together or for any other reason he has in his mind. I don’t know what he’s trying to do!”

“WOOYOUNG STOP”

“HE FUCKING WANTS YOU Y/N AND MAYBE YOU DO TOO”

“That’s it, I’m leaving”, you grabbed your phone from the table next to you and moved fast to the corner where your backpack was left. “When you get a hold of yourself, reach out to me”, you grabbed the bag and left his apartment with a loud bang on the door.

You lied. Yes, San is your best friend and yes, you know him since you were kids, but after what happened and especially after what slipped out of his lips, you know you’re not friends anymore. At least, not just friends anymore. Wooyoung is right, San does have feelings for you and has been keeping them secret for God knows how long. But why now? Why did he have to tell you how he feels now? Now, that you're in a relationship with his good friend, now that your heart is at its most vanuerable state. Your heart feels heavier than ever before. Everything got so complicated and it’s all your fault. You don’t know what you should do, what is right to do and for God’s sake, you don’t know what you feel. Your heart is split in two, your mind is split in two, even your body was split in two for two different people one night about a month ago.

Would it have been better if you had stayed silent when Wooyoung snapped or would you feel guilty for letting them fight for you, literally right in front of you? Was it better that you tried to stop them by saying whatever came to your mind, leading to everything that happened afterwards? Things wouldn't be this way if you hadn't talked and most of all, what in the hell did you gain from speaking, other than fucking your boyfriend and your best friend at the same time? A best friend that hasn’t contacted you at all, a boyfriend that doesn’t trust you and questionable feelings for both. Great.

You were walking so fast, you didn't realise you reached the entrance of your building, until your phone vibrated in your pocket. You took it out and seeing a notification from San your heartbeat increased, but the chilly weather made you shiver and get in the warmth of your apartment before unlocking your phone and seeing what he had sent you.

9:47pm

From Sannie ♡

"I'm sorry"

You sat on the sofa and stayed there, staring at the text for a couple of minutes trying to guess the meaning behind the apologetic tone. Could he be sorry for saying he loved you? Could he be taking it back? You gave up fast though, it’s not the time for guesses.

9:49pm

To Sannie ♡

"about what, San?"

9:50pm

from Sannie ♡

"I can't take it back and I won't, but I'm really sorry about everything. I'm sorry for agreeing to take part in what happened, I'm sorry for not thinking straight and being an asshole while you're in a relationship, but mostly I'm sorry to you".

9:52pm

to Sannie ♡

"I think we should talk".

9:52pm

from Sannie ♡

"I know I caused a lot of problems, but I want you to know that I meant it".

Reading the last three words, your body got hotter. In a matter of seconds, you thought you were on fire and your heart clenched hard, like you were in need of this confirmation.

Why are you feeling like this? Why are you still feeling like you've been waiting for this? You're in a fucking relationship and you like Wooyoung, you do. But, San. Wooyoung was right, you asked them to have a threesome, but why? Did you really wanna feel San close to you, with the more intimate meaning behind the word? By making love to you? Was it a way to confirm your suspicions that you still like him?

You wanna cry, but this is all too real to do so. It's not like the movies, anymore. You can't laugh at the protagonist for not knowing how they feel. You can't scream at the screen in an attempt to make them see the truth. You can only pity yourself for bringing you at this situation. You can only be ashamed of yourself for making the two most important people in your life question everything. You can only see how you've fucked up everything around you.

Are the feelings you had for San back then not so gone, after all?

You couldn't bring yourself to answer on that last text. You didn't know how to and you didn't try because your phone started vibrating and ringing, suddenly.

"hey", you answered rubbing your eyes with your free hand.

"I'm sorry", the voice spoke and your mind went hostile at your own self. Wooyoung is the one you like, Wooyoung is the one you're in a relationship with, Wooyoung is the one that makes you happy every single day, not San. San is your friend and, yes, you used to have some feelings for him but you just USED TO.

"Wooyoung, I like you. A lot, okay? This night meant nothing to me, I only want you". You snapped your head up and talked so fast, so desperately like you're trying to convince yourself first that this is the truth and then him.

"Can I come over, baby? Let me talk to you with my mind in my head, this time"

"yes, please"

"I'll be there in 5"

It felt like he took forever to reach your place when, in reality, it wasn't even 5 minutes later when he rang your bell and sprinted up the stairs. Your door was wide open and you were waiting patiently with your eyes stuck on the floor, until he stopped dead in his tracks right before entering your apartment. You looked at him and he hugged you without much thought. He was warm and, letting yourself get lost in his embrace, it felt like this is the only thing you needed. No talking, no more overthinking, no more mistakes, but you knew this wasn't possible. You have to make yourself clear, so you escaped from his hug without really wanting to.

"come in"

"I think I overthought this too much". he blurted out and you walked to the living room as he followed behind you, before sitting on one side of the couch with his elbows resting on his knees.

"It's my fault. If I hadn't spoken so fast, nothing of this would've happened". You sat next to him, leaving enough space for a hypothetical third person to sit between you and looked at the floor.

"no, I'm sorry I doubted how you feel about me. I got so...jealous thinking that he’s better than me, that I couldn’t keep myself content”.

“no one’s better than you”.

“...and I know how you feel about me and I feel the same about you, baby".

Your heart skipped a beat, not the same way it did when that 'I love you" had reached your ears. It was more like a 'guilty type' of skipping a beat, but you let it fly away.

"I don't know what had gotten into me, Wooyoung...but whatever it was, I don't want it to get to me again".

"it won't, I promise you that". He turned his head towards you and you felt his eyes travel to all your features. From your eyes, to your cheeks and, finally, to your lips and he stayed there for a bit, before bringing his body closer to yours and his hands up to your arms to caress them. He hesitated slightly, before getting a hold of your chin and connecting your lips. His hand travelled up and down your arm and his lips were soft and tender against yours. It wasn't until you hummed in the kiss, that he deepened it and from a slow dance between lips, it turned into a sloppy make out session. His head was tilted when he bit your lower lip asking for permission for his tongue slip in your mouth and when it did, a soft moan from you accompanied it.

"baby..."

"shhh"

You felt dizzy by the lack of oxygen and, maybe, he did too because he backed away and, as you breathed in and out fast, he took the chance and made you lie on your back. His lips hovered over the hot flesh on your neck as he spoke softly "let me make you feel good, like no one else can, okay?"

"please do..."

With a huff, he started kissing and biting hungrily on it. Not only did your body feel weak under his actions, but it felt like your vocal chords had a mind of their own when he sucked harshly on your collarbone. You flinched and he held you steady by shoving his hand between your legs, but you instinctively forced them shut trapping it between them. He lifted his head and stared at your lips before pushing your legs open to slide your pants and underwear down. You took your shirt off, leaving you only in your bra and he did the same. It felt like it had been ages since you last saw him shirtless and you kind of missed it. Reaching for the toned muscles on his chest you caressed it slowly, travelling all the way down to the drawstring of his sweatpants till your eyes fell on his growing boner that's already showing through the fabric.

“we'll take care of everything”, he said and hovered over you again before kissing the valley between your breasts. He moved down, taking the time to give attention to every part and when he kissed right above your clit, your mind went hazy. Wooyoung, spread your legs and let his tongue lick a stripe up your hole to your clit as your hands gripped his hair fast. You felt your eyes getting heavy.

“Wooyoung...”, you whimpered. His fingers pulled your hood apart and when he licked tiny circles over the clit you went crazy.

“fuck—”

His tongue played with the little bundle of nerves when he suddenly inserted two fingers in your hole. If it wasn’t for his left hand gripping your inner thigh tightly, he’d have lost contact with your body by the way you flinched. He dragged them in and out of your tight hole fast, not letting you get used to the sudden stretch, and when your whimpers turned into moans he added a third one as his tongue flicked rapidly against your clit.

“ohmygod imgonnacome-”, you pulled his hair hard and your gazes met, but your expressions were so different. Yours was all scrunched up, close to reaching your climax, but his had a dirty smirk on it while his tongue played around with your clit right in front of your eyes.

“p-please, I need you”

He asked pressure and your back arched and your head pressed on the couch right before Wooyoung left your clit with a pop and took his fingers out after a few last quick pumps.

His dick’s demanding in your sight. You were trying to calm down but you reached for his sweatpants and, pulling them down along with his underwear, his cock sprung up needier than ever before. The sight of your pussy gushing wetness made him twitch and you got more desperate by the second. Grabbing his length with one hand, he guided himself in your entrance and pushed in with a smooth move. He groaned and bottomed out easily.

“fuuck-” Your mouth hang open at the stretch and -not even giving you a second to get used to it- he thrusted lazily but harshly in you.

“Jesus Christ, so tight”, he grabbed your ankle and pushed it up, holding it there. Wooyoung rolled his hips in and out, quickening the pace with every thrust, faster than usual.

You weren't sure if he was just really needy or if he thought that's what you wanted but he kept quickening his thrusts, like he was trying to show you you're his and only his. You couldn't complain though, the felling between your legs shadowed all thoughts and your moans took over your mind.

"ohmygod, that's it"

"do you like that, baby?”, he had a smirk on his face and you saw his free hand move to your lower stomach and staying there and before you could wonder why he did that, he pressed on the small bump his cock formed on your belly. Your mind went dizzy as he pressed down on it every time he pushed his length back in.

"ohmygoddnnghh-"

Every thrust of his hips got accompanied by a loud gasp and your head pounded like crazy, until a louder cry left your lips and you felt him twitch. Your walls clenched around his length as he grabbed your other ankle and held both of your legs on each side of his head. The different angle immediately made you reach another level of pleasure and his groans got louder, huskier, needier.

"can he make you feel this good?"

"fuck imgonnacome-"

"can he fuck you like I do?"

"shit- there there-"

"only I can make you feel like this, fuuckk-"

You clenched hard around him and he pulled out with effort before coming in hot spurts, some of which landed on the couch and some on your stomach. Your legs flopped down on each side of his body fast, senseless and your lips turned into a silent scream as you felt your juices warming your thighs while they spilled out slowly. You were panting and your muscles flexed and unflexed as you rode out your high. Wooyoung was right in front of you but if it wasn't for his loud groans, you wouldn't have seen how he was stroking his cock fast, up and down again and again, making him hiss as he got hard again.

His eyes were dark when they met yours "turn around".

"I-"

"turn around and hold on the couch"

You mind was blank, but you did as he said and even though your spills dripped all the way down to your knees when you kneeled on the couch, you faced the back of the sofa with the pillows still in their place. Your elbows rested on the couch and you put your head between them, tilting it at the process. The small opening under your arm helped you take a peek at Wooyoung's actions, who was still pumping his length fast with his lower lip between his teeth and his eyes on your ass now. “this is all mine”, a smirk crawled onto his face and you felt yourself getting wet again or, maybe, wetter and you wiggled your hips a bit. You don't know if you're able to take him a second time, but the wetness in your cunt keeps increasing.

He saw you looking at him and a second later you felt his hand smacking your ass hard, drawing a loud cry from you. It stung and your face fell on the couch morphing at the pain. "Open them more", you did as he said.

"pplease, slowly"

His hands grabbed your cheeks, pulling them apart, and guided himself in your entrance again before burying his dick fast in your pussy.

"OHMYGOD-"

Your fingers dug onto the couch but he grabbed your shoulder and brought your body up, your back flat against his chest as his right hand held on your face by the chin "take it all, baby", he groaned against your ear and slapped his hips hard against your ass.

It was like your mind completely forgot your previous orgasm when you felt him all inside you again. Your body jolted but he held you tighter by the chin as his left hand roamed all over your body. He's never done anything like this before, he's never been this rough on you, he's never taken you a second time right after the first one, he's never tried to make himself hard again right after coming.

You absolutely lost your mind again when he quickened the pace, you whole body moved forwards and then backwards at the rhythm of his hard thrusts and your hair got all over your face, some strands sticking on the sweaty parts.

You felt him deep and then deeper and deeper and everything around you started disappearing and getting replaced by stars. He's pounding into you and each thrust calls for a loud huff against your ear, but your own cries and the sound of skin slapping against skin overshadows his panting.

“oh fuck! yes ohmygodnnghh yes-" you can’t feel anything anymore, your lower part has gone numb. Other than the sweet abuse of your hole and the knot getting tighter in your stomach, you can’t feel anything else.

"come around my cock", he growled loud.

"yesyesyes-"

"do it, CUM"

“s- so close-”

“ALL OVER ME”

“I’m com- fuuuck SAN--"

Your body jerked at your orgasm hitting you and Wooyoung stopped moving "what did you say?", he pulled out fast letting your body go and the weakness made you fall forward but your hands kept you up holding at the back of the couch. Your cum was getting spilt on your thighs again and it took you a moment to come back to reality and realise what had slipped out of your mouth. 


"what did you say??"

"Wooyoung...”, you looked back at him, guilt drawn on your face and voice barely a whisper, but you couldn’t move.

“I fucking trusted you”

...

[notmyrick]

General Arc 5

/She had a Rick once, but she also had a Diane. Then a Beth. / She and Diane raised Beth without Rick for 3 years, specifically her high school years. Beth was turning out to be a remarkable young woman. But things took a turn for the worse when Diane was hospitalized, near the end of Beth's junior year. She died that summer. "Diane Sanchez died due to depression." The doctor stated as he forlornly gave the news. "According to your reports Ms. Rivas, her body was healthy as could be and her genetic disease was handled with all proper precautions. The forensic department agreed with you. The only underlying cause of death is depression." "But she didn't commit suicide, a heart just doesn't stop when you want it to." Roxx reasoned. She couldn't accept Diane's death, not like this. The doctor gave her a sympathetic look, before answering. "It's unexplainable I know, and it is hard to accept a person's death. The best way I could explain this phenomenon is like trying to prove why medical miracles happen. Sometimes things just happen without rhyme or reason, there is nothing scientific about them. And where there are miracles, there exist the opposite, tragedies." "So your just saying, she was a medical tragedy!" "I'll give you a moment with the patient to mourn." The doctor left and Roxx turned her head to the window which hosted Diane's body. She entered the room and cried silent tears as she held the cold hand. Beth was interning at a different hospital, so she wasn't here. Roxx felt as cold as the body, but she knew that was a lie. "Why? Why did you leave us? I finally got you back." Roxx kissed Diane on the forehead before wallowing in her own grief. /She had a Rick once, but she also had a Diane. Then a Beth. / It was late at night and Beth was over at a friend’s house. Her daughter was enjoying her senior year of high school as she only had 2 core classes and the rest were extracurriculars. When it was only Roxx and Diane raising her, Beth started to both call them her mothers. Roxx never felt so much joy that night when Beth called her mother; Diane didn't mind, she even encouraged it. Roxx was home alone drinking wine. She already finished a whole bottle and was debating opening another. Suddenly she heard noise coming from the garage. She grumbled to herself and got a box of Lucky Charms from the cabinet. Beth exited the house through the garage when her friend picked her up. She would not be surprised if she left the door open for the raccoons to come in. She unlocked the door to the garage, ready to throw the cereal to the driveway for the raccoons to chase. As soon as she opened the door a drunk Rick fell on top of her. She yelped as they both kissed the ground. The clearly drunk as fuck Rick passed out as soon as she opened the door and the less coordinated Roxx fell due to the influence of alcohol and surprise. The cereal box spilled all over the floor, but that was instantly forgotten for the more pressing issue at hand. Roxx maneuvered the blue haired man off her for a moment so she could drag him to the living room. Although the living room was only 12 feet away from the where they were at. With Roxy’s lack of coordination factored with Rick's height and weight, the result was her hitting her hips and stubbing her toes against surfaces. It wasn’t until she flopped him onto the couch did, she hear his mutterings. "It’s all my fault. I did this. Why am I so toxic? I deserve this, I should never be happy." Roxx was sad that Rick was muttering these things. She stumbled her way through the house, though not as much anymore with the lack of mass hauling her down and a little bit more sober. She started to clean Rick up. She wiped away assumed vomit on his lips, grabbed his flask from his hand so it doesn't spill, and stripped him of his dirty coat. As she was about to put the coat in the laundry, but first she emptied out his pockets for anything important. She took out some electronics and a few pieces of paper. She was curious and unraveled the pieces. One was a noted from one of his friends, a person named Bird person. Coordinates that look like it can be inputted into the portal gun. And a certificate. She flattened out the as best she could try to read it. Her eyes widened, she turned the paper over and saw taped to the back of the certificate was a picture of Rick, Diane, Roxx, and Beth, all smiling. She looked at the drunk on her couch as she began to weep once more. The certificate in Rick's lab coat was Diane's death certificate, with the cause of death highlighted. /She had a Rick once, but she also had a Diane. Then a Beth. / "Your mom would say you look beautiful." Roxx said as she placed a necklace on Beth's neck. She was dressed for her high school prom, looking absolutely stunning. "Thank you mother." Beth smiled at the same vanity that used to be Diane's. Roxx smiled in response to her daughter. As she led her daughter down stairs, Rick appeared at the end of the stair case and looked at Beth up and down. "Change." "Rick." "She's not going to prom like that." "You were there when we went dress shopping, you were the one who picked this dress." "And now, I'm saying the dress is too inappropriate for my little girl." Beth chuckled as Roxy and Rick argued about her. "I know these little shits because I was one of those little shits! Beth will attract those horny prepubescent boys like a moth to a flame!" "And you know what Rick, if they get too close to our Beth, they will get burned. Baby girl, I give you full permission to kick a boy’s ass if they get a bit too familiar with you. Don't worry about lawsuits, I can win them." Roxx comforted both Rick and Beth. Beth smiled at her parents and gave them both a hug. Both parents reciprocated as the doorbell rang. Beth's friends squealed at the sight of her and thus began the grueling process of photographing. Rick oversaw all the pictures as Roxx relaxed on the sideline. Rick lost rock, paper, scissors. However, it wasn’t as "troublesome" as Rick complained about it to be. She saw a brief smile as he took pictures for Beth with her friends. She sat down on the couch reading her favorite book with a plate of cannolis beside her as she heard her husband yell "More?!" And the group of giggling girls moved to the backyard. She turned the page. ------ "You piece of shit!" Roxxanne held a boy by the collar of his shirt against the wall. He was nervous and confused. She lifted him off the wall before slamming him right against it again. This hormonal teenage child had the audacity to come to her house, after he knocked up her daughter, and dare say to her that he could support her. All because Beth did a pity lay. A DAMN PITY LAY. Because she felt sorry for the guy who seemed to be the next top candidate for 40-year-old virgin, Beth had sex with this no spine, conniving, useless, shit stain of a man. Her Beth was having a midlife crisis at the age of 17! Luckily Rick took Beth out today for some quality father daughter bonding time. Because if Beth was home and saw this tool out here, she no doubt have another mental breakdown. "M... ma-... m-ma'am. I- I promise to support Beth..." "So you don't think I can't support my own daughter, you punk!" "N-no! Not at all. Not that I mean you can't support her, I mean you can obviously support her, we would be blessed if you could support us!" "So you were planning to dependent on us! Am I and my husband only cash cows to you!" "No that wasn't what I was trying to imply!" "What are you trying to imply!" "I know Beth is a smart girl and she has dreams to become a surgeon. So a child will obviously hinder her plan-" "Boy you better stop while your ahead of yourself." "I'm just saying the cost of an abortion-" Roxxanne flung the brown haired boy to the side and grabbed a belt from the coat closet and used it as a whip. The sudden sound scared the boy as his eyes grew wide. "You! Don't get a say in anything. You don't even mention this possibility to my daughter. What she does with your unwanted sperm donation is up to her. If she wants to keep the child, she'll keep the child, if she wants an abortion, she will get the abortion. She does not need your shit filled input to decide what she can or cannot do to HER body. Don't you dare try to make her lean towards one choice or the other for your shitty fantasy." She stepped menacingly toward the boy who crawled backwards toward the door. "Regardless of her choice, your life belongs to me. You WILL take responsibility for your actions. You WILL listen to every command I give you. And you WILL compensate by any means necessary for the troubles you inflicted on MY daughter." At each emphasis Roxx whipped the belt at the feet of the young boy, effectively scaring him as he edged closer and closer to the door. "You will pay for you actions Jerry Smith, I guarantee you that." Finally the young boy scrambled up at the door and ran out of her house. When he left, she place the belt back into the closet, grabbed a glass of wine, and waited for her daughter and husband to come back. /She had a Rick once, but she also had a Diane. Then a Beth. / "Are you sure mother?" "Yes, yes, yes. A million times yes! Don't worry, Rick and I got this, just have fun with Jerry. Okay baby girl?" Roxx shooed her daughter away toward her husband Jerry. They said goodbye to Roxx and Rick as the blue haired man held onto their granddaughter. Beth and Jerry ended up keeping the baby and did a shotgun wedding. Because Beth wanted to keep the baby, she thought she would have to give up being a surgeon. Roxx quickly dismissed that idea saying she and Rick could watch over the baby while she's getting her degree. They argued for a while, but Roxx ultimately won at the end. In addition, because Roxx believed Beth was too good for Jerry, the only way the stupid male could marry her daughter was to be at the same level as her. So, the first thing she had a problem with Jerry was his looks. Instantly she made him do military drills from all sectors, 6 days a week for 12 hours every day, not including mealtimes. Not only did his body barely become passable, his personality shifted 30 degrees in the right direction. He was still annoying and dumb, but at least he can be passable eye candy. After military training was done, she encouraged him (read forced) to pick a major that won’t embarrass her daughter. All the art majors were immediately disqualified for him. He ended up picking marketing, which wasn't the best, but it would not embarrass her daughter. She made sure Jerry understood, passed, and excelled on all his classes. Only when he was on his way to finish his undergraduate’s degree and got a paid internship with a ladder system, did she deem him as a viable candidate for Beth's husband. Not the best, but viable. Only then did she approve of their marriage. They may have married young, but she didn't let Jerry lived with them until last year. Up until then, he still lived in his parents’ house and only visited Beth, not even staying over nights. Anyway, Rick carried their 2-and-a-half-year-old granddaughter to the living room. She wasn't as smart as Beth, but she was smarter than average. Summer amused herself with crayons and paper and went to her room.  Roxx leaned against Rick and sighed. "I am way too young to have a grandchild already. My hair didn’t even start graying yet." "I know the feeling, we don't even qualify for the early bird special yet." They chuckled as the TV played in the background. "So I was thinking..." "And what thoughts are going inside that mind of yours." Rick replied as he kissed the top of her head. "Maybe we should move out." "Roxx..." "Just hear me out Rick. This house is worth more to us than mansions in California, penthouses in New York, or even estates in Texas. This place has sentimental value. So, I don’t want to sell it. Plus, we already bought it out. We can give the deed to Beth, under her name. She can start a family here and grow into the person I know she could be." "And what does us having to move out clash with Beth's development." "You know there isn’t enough space here for all of us, especially if Beth wants her family to grow. Plus, Beth has grown a dependency on us, specifically you. This dependency can impair judgment, we both know that. Look I'm not saying we should go across the globe. I'm just saying, maybe 30 min. Or an hour away drive. Close enough if she really needs us, but far enough to deter her from "casually" dropping by." Roxx laid her head against Rick's chest drawing patterns on his chest. "Plus, instead of having to stay at a motel every time one of us want to do it, we have our own place." Rick grabbed Roxy’s ass and gave it a firm squeeze. "Should've argued with that first." "Shut up." She smiled and chuckled.

[drakewalkerfantasy]

Flames of yesterday: Chapter 9

Summary: 5 years ago they made a mistake. They were two broken men drinking away their love life issues, and one girl trying to help a friend. What the night leaves them with are two broken hearts and one nearly broken friendship. 5 years later, two are still broken and another one fixed. But what happens when they all meet again? Will it open old wounds and bring all the their insecurities rushing back?  Or will it mend the two hearts still looking for warmth, unable to find it after their parting?

Words: 3353

Authors notes: A crossover of Open Heart and the Elementalists, a collaboration series by @drakewalkerfantasy and @fluffy-marshmallow-heart

Ethan x OH MC (Diana)

Beckett x TE MC (Oriana)

**Warnings: no warnings needed**

Leaving the hospital Diana mindlessly walked along the streets trying to clear her head, not caring where she’s going. Ethan’s harsh words still thunder in her head, followed by his gentle ones, drowning out all other thoughts. In a worthless attempt she tried to forget all of it, tried to forget the hope she felt, and the warmth of his hands holding hers. Her hands still feeling the memory of their fingers brushing, sending a current of electricity through her body.

For a moment she thought that this was a dream, simply wishful thinking to distract her from the memories of the past. The protection mechanism her brain used to make the pain go away, but the bandage was the distant reminder that this time it was real… he was real. Distantly she remembered how close he was, how his eyes got stormy just for a second and it seemed that it took everything in him not to snap, kissing her senselessly in this supply closet. She sighed heavily, leaning on the handrail of a wooden bridge. Even not realising it, she came to her favourite place. The place her mother usually took her to when she was a child, when she wasn’t so terribly sick. To the place where she and Beckett came every year from the day her mother died to throw flowers in the river. Even five years ago when they fell apart, he still came standing by her side, not speaking, but quietly throwing soft flowers into the water.

She raised her face, letting the warm wind wash over her, standing there for a moment longer before finally heading home. When she got home it was already late and she slowly went through the darkness, enjoying the quietness and loneliness of the place. Her minds still heavy with a myriad of thought, but the pain became fainter as an echo of memory that will always be with her. Sitting on the bed she reached for her mobile for the first time since leaving the hospital hours ago. Her heart fluttering in anticipation and hope when she sees three missed phone calls and two new voicemails but falls a bit a second later seeing familiar numbers. She hesitated for a moment, her finger freezing for a second above Beckett’s number, then Oriana’s, debating if she could call them so late in the evening…

This is probably too late. She thought looking at the clock, watching them pass past ten o’clock. Ori is probably already asleep with how exhausting pregnancy is. And Beckett will kill me if I would wake her up. With a smile Diana removed her finger moving to her voicemail box. Her heart squeezing in hope to hear Ethan’s voice, her fingers trembling a little. She heard a familiar cheerful voice on the other end, a small smile reaching her lips as if a small part of the happiness of the caller reached her, making her heart lighter.

“Diiii, It’s Ori. Listen, Beckett told me what happened at the café, and then said you ran off towards the end of your shift. I know both of you have the day off tomorrow, so I’m really really hoping you’ll come over and help with our nursery? Beckett is insisting that I don’t do any painting, even though it’s totally fine, but you know him, such a worry-wort.”

The ring of her laughter made a full smile spread on Diana’s face. “So anyways, think about it, cuz he’s driving me nuts. Talk later!

Diana shook her head, still smiling, knowing full well how Oriana and Beckett’s conversation about her painting in a small room would have gone. She can practically picture how much eye-rolling Oriana did until she finally gave up, called Beckett impossible and how she was going to call Diana so she could agree with her. A chuckle escaped Diana’s lips, the thought of Beckett and Oriana always made her happy. The two of them just clicked and she was a bit envious of that. That’s what she wants, she wants a relationship like theirs.

Her smile faltered with the next thought coursing through her. Ethan Ramsey.

Why so brazenly ask for my number if he still doesn’t plan to call me? She thought to herself. Subconsciously still hoping to hear his voice, unsure if she should or shouldn’t. Her fingers trembled before moving to the next message, Beckett’s warning from the other day thundering in her head. But everything died the moment she heard the second voicemail, the one she hoped to receive. Her heart fluttered when the message began.

“Dr. Haynes? I mean, Diana… This is Dr. Ramsey… Ethan Ramsey…”

She heard him clearing his throat as though nervous and he cursed quietly under his breath, making Diana giggle softly.

“Tommy’s blood test results are ready; I was hoping to share them with you…there was nothing conclusive, so I wanted to get your thoughts…” He trailed off again, and Diana sighed, realizing he only wanted to talk business. Until he spoke again, his words rushing out.

“And also to make sure you’re okay. I’ll call tomorrow, it’s getting late. I shouldn’t have called so late, I apologize.”

There was a click and the automated voice sounded in her ear next, asking if she wanted to keep the message or delete it. Of course she’s keeping it. Despite telling herself not to, she listened to the message several times that night, butterflies erupting in her stomach every time she heard the last few rushed sentences. She noticed he didn’t leave his number, but she fell asleep with a smile on her face for the first time in ages, knowing that meant it was guaranteed he would call her again.

The following morning, Diana head over to Beckett and Oriana’s house, armed with coffee for him and tea for her. She rang the doorbell and a minute later, a disheveled and paint covered Beckett opened the door.

Diana raised her eyebrows. “You do know you’re supposed to paint the walls…right?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Oriana thought it would be funny to fling paint at me. She’s still mad about not helping. It made her laugh, so I guess I shouldn’t complain but…” He gestured to his now ruined clothing.

Diana stifled a laugh as she brushed past him and into their house. Oriana burst into the foyer. “Oh thank god you’re here! Beck doesn’t know how to paint. I mean, look at him.”

Diana looked between Oriana’s smirking face and Beckett’s glowering one. A slow smile spreading on her face as she spoke to Beckett. “Wow. That’s some painting you’re doing. Good thing you called in an expert before you completely confused yourself with the wall. I mean honestly, who does that?”

Beckett’s mouth fell open as Diana handed Oriana her freshly brewed tea. “And also, you’re supposed to wear old clothing that you don’t care if you get paint on. That’s basically painting 101.”

“You two are impossible.” He grumbled under his breath, grabbing his coffee. “I’ll be upstairs. Painting. The walls.” Throwing one last glare at the girls, he disappeared up the stairs, the sound of music floating down.

Oriana and Diana burst out laughing.

“He just makes it so easy!” Oriana gloated as their laughter died down.

“He really does.” Diana agreed, still chuckling. “My goodness, you had a lot of fun doing that, didn’t you?”

“I did.” Oriana grinned. “He had it coming. Honestly, he wouldn’t even let me into the room! I had to be quick about it!”

“I believe it. I’m impressed, actually. Now, how areyou feeling? You’re not lightheaded or anything?”

Oriana groaned. “Not you too.”

“Just worried about my bestie.” Diana slung her arm around Oriana’s shoulder as they went into the kitchen and sat on the stools at the island.

Oriana sighed. “Honestly? I’m always nauseous, this heartburn is killing me, I’m getting slower and bigger by the day, my feet are swelling…girl, pregnancy is hard. And all I want to do is put the nursery together, but he won’t let me paint, or put furniture together, or lift anything…he’s driving me nuts! I’m pregnant, not helpless.”

“He just cares.” Diana sympathized. “You know you and this baby are his world, and he worries so much about you. You should hear him every day, talking about how he can’t wait for his break so he can call you and make sure you’re not dead.”

“He does not say that!” Oriana gasped.

“Well, no, not those exact words. I’m just filling in the blanks. Besides, at least you have someone to fret over you. That’s more than some of us…” Diana trailed off, looking at her friend guiltily. “Oh god, I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”

“How are things going with Ethan?” Oriana asked blatantly.

Diana’s eyebrows shot up. One thing about Oriana, she never beat around the bush. “Ummm. Well…it’s complicated. I guess. I don’t know, really.” But at the mention of Ethan’s name, Diana found herself smiling again.

“Okay, well. Spill. What happened yesterday?”

Diana grimaced. “First, he completely berated me. I was humiliated. It was a hard case, and it just reminded me of my mom, so I wasn’t focused, and he noticed and ugh, he was such a dick.”

“But you just smiled.” Oriana pointed out.

Diana shrugged. “Well…I ran off and ran into the first dark room I could find. A supply closet, naturally. You’d be surprised how many there are in that place, it’s crazy. And I was crying and went into a panic attack and I didn’t notice when someone came in, but I figured it was Beckett.”

Oriana stiffened a bit at the mention of it but quickly regained her composure as Diana continued.

“It turned out to be Ethan that followed me in there. He calmed me down, and I swear, Ori, I thought he might kiss me. He didn’t but, god I wish he had. I really like him. I try to deny it, but I just can’t. The attraction is so hard to ignore. I don’t know what to do, really.”

“Ahem.” Beckett appeared in the doorway. “Weren’t you going to help me paint?”

Diana rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine, interrupt our girl talk.”

Beckett’s cheeks flushed. “I just…wanted to get this done so I can build the crib.”

Diana laughed. “Well when you put it that way…” She hopped off the bar stool and, throwing a wink at Oriana, disappeared upstairs. When she walked into the room that would become their child’s, Diana felt a surge of pride. Her two best friends were bringing life into the world, a product of their love for each other. Diana was thrilled for them and couldn’t wait to become an Auntie.

They’d picked out a beautiful shade of sea foam green for the bottom half of the walls, and a light blue for the top half. Diana planned on making a few small white clouds as well. They’d chosen not to find out if it’s a boy or girl, which drove Diana nuts but it’s what they wanted. When deciding what to do for the nursery, Beckett had read that exposure to the color green may increase reading ability, and Oriana liked the blue for the calming aspect, so this is what they decided in the end.

“So? I’m at your disposal, where do you want me to start?” chimed Diana reaching for a paintbrush, but before she could take it, Beckett also bent down to dip his own brush into the paint, instead painting Diana’s jeans making her jump up with squeal. “Hey!!!”

“Sorry I…” started Beckett, trying to suppress his laugh from the pay back, even if it wasn’t done intentionally. But one look at Diana’s smirking face was enough for him to frown uncomprehendingly. “Why are you not mad?”

“Beckett, as I said, you don’t wear your good clothes to paint,” she laughed, watching his frowning expression while bursting in a fit of laughter. “You should see yourself right now.” She giggled, dipping her brush into blue paint making another line on her jeans next to Beckett’s.

“What are you doing? You are ruining them…”

“Old clothes… remember?” Diana laughed, painting the tip of Beckett’s nose blue before quickly stepping aside, further from him. “And this is how it’s done.”

“Oh, you are so going down for that,” he growled, almost tripping over the paint can.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Diana gasped, her eyes widening. “You know that you may accidentally spill the paint and Ori never forgive us if we stain the carpet.”

“Shit…” cursed Beckett throwing daggers at Diana with his eyes before hearing Oriana’s footsteps on the stair. “Peace,” they quickly agreed as he darted to the door.

“Guys, is everything is okay in here?” Oriana asked, being stopped by Beckett before she could enter the nursery, his hands on her shoulders and backing her away from entrance.

“Everything is fine, why wouldn’t it be? Also, I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t come near the nursery until the room is painted and thoroughly dried. How many times do I need to repeat that paint fumes can be unhealthy for you and the baby.” Beckett scolded, watching Oriana roll her eyes, but obediently stepping back.

“No… It was you who agreed I will not get anywhere near our baby’s room while you’re painting. But there was nothing said about checking on you two…” Oriana trailed off, finally registering the paint on Beckett’s nose. She rose an eyebrow at him.

“She started it.” Beckett frowned defensively.

“Play nice.” Oriana murmured, kissing him on the cheek softly. “Also, do either of you want anything? I planned on ordering some food.”

“Anything you want.” He responded immediately.

“I will never say no to food.” Diana chimed in, peeking out of the room.

Oriana stared at her blue painted jeans. Diana just shrugged. “He started it.”

“You two are the kids I never needed. Behave or both of you will be kicked out and I’ll do everything myself.” Oriana retorted, shaking her head.

Beckett’s ears were turning red. “Sorry, love. Just painting, got it. You can count on us. We’ll be finished in no time.” Beckett lightly kissed Oriana’s forehead, gently brushing her bump with his hand before letting her go.

After Oriana left downstairs, Beckett and Diana set to work both starting on opposite walls. When Diana was occupied with drawing the contours for a small cloud on the wall, she heard her phone vibrating in her back pocket. She could feel how her heart made a flip and butterflies erupted in her stomach. She glanced at Beckett who was still busy painting his wall in firm concentration. After a moment she finally answered her phone, her heart fluttering and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks.

“Dr. Ramsey?” she murmured quietly, when a familiar voice sounded through the speaker. She knew it was him, even though she didn’t know the number.

“Diana…” Ethan spoke, his voice rambling low. “I thought we agreed that you will call me Ethan.”

“Yes of course. I remember agreeing to this,” spoke Diana biting her lower lip trying to hide the smile from Beckett, who was wholeheartedly absorbed in the painting and didn’t seem to notice anything around him. “Also sorry for not returning your call yesterday. It was quite late when I listened to your voicemail. Also, you didn’t leave your number so…” her voice trailed off and she fell silent, her heart thundering loudly.

“You shouldn’t apologize, I really shouldn’t call you so late…,” Ethan sighed, thinking of all the things he shouldn’t be doing or shouldn’t be dreaming of doing with this incredible girl. Diana smiled, hearing how his voice trembled slightly, imagining him raking his hand through his hair nervously before speaking again. “I just felt like I should check on you and make sure you are okay.”

“I’m feeling much better. Thanks to you. I’m very sorry you saw me like that.”

“I’m really glad that you’re feeling better. I was….” His voice dropped an octave lower and the next words made her eyes widen from the confession. “I was worried about you.”

“Why?” She whispered hoarsely, her throat dried out.

“Because I…” Diana could hear how Ethan took a deep breath, feeling how her heart fluttered in anticipation, waiting for what he would say.

“Di, if you finished with your side of the wall. Can you draw clouds on this part and… do you think it’d be okay to also draw Staff of Asclepius where the baby’s crib will be?”

Ethan literally stopped breathing when he heard Beckett’s voice through the speaker. She’s pregnant???

“Ethan?” Diana called, breaking through his thoughts. She could see Beckett watching her, raising his eyebrow questioningly. The uncomfortable silence from the phone was practically deafening to Diana.

Finally, Ethan cleared his throat and his voice flowed through the speaker again. “I was simply worried because I’m your attendee and you are my intern. You need to be at the top of your game, always.”

Ethan was kicking himself for lying, but what else could he do? He shut his eyes briefly, hoping that she won’t hear the truth in his voice. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach as he continued. “So, as I said yesterday, Tommy’s blood test results are ready. If you have time to go through them with me?” asked Ethan in a professional voice, absolutely no emotion evident in his tone.

“Okay.” Diana acknowledged.

“There was nothing conclusive. Everything that we tested him for came back as negative. He didn’t ingest anything, touch anything or contract a parasite… Nothing.” Ethan told her.

Diana thought a moment. “Hmmm… can it be that Tommy isn’t sick because of an external cause, but rather an internal one? Something that isn’t new, but perhaps he’s been carrying all along?”

Ethan furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean, a genetic thing? We tested several…”

“No, nothing like this. Remember Tommy’s mother said that two weeks ago he was hospitalized with bacterial pneumonia? And prescribed azithromycin? What if…”

Diana stopped, chewing on her lower lip thoughtfully before continuing. “What if the antibiotic did its job a little too well and attacked the good bacteria along the bad one?”

“And this is why he is so sick…Good bacteria started producing toxins as a defense, and that’s what poisoning Tommy.”

“So, once we kill the strain that started attacking him, his digestion will be fine again.” Diana finished.

“This is brilliant. You are brilliant…” Ethan exclaimed before he was able to stop himself. He inhaled sharply before speaking again. “Thank you, Dr. Haynes. I hope you will find your day enjoyable and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Not waiting for her to say anything, he ended the call.

Ethan sat back in his chair in his office, rubbing the back of his neck. She’s pregnant…how did I not know this? Why has she never said anything? She must not be far along if she’s drinking so much coffee on a daily basis. I’ll need to watch her caffeine intake…wait, no, that’s Beckett’s job…right?

Ethan couldn’t shake the thought that he was missing something. It didn’t make sense that she’d be expecting a child with Beckett, yet flirt with him, touch him every chance she got, look at him with such intensity as though begging him to kiss her.

I’ve got to be missing something…but what?

Back at Beckett and Oriana’s house, Diana frowned at her now dark phone.

“Was that Dr. Ramsey?” Beckett asked hesitantly.

“Yes.”

“I couldn’t help but notice you didn’t say goodbye? But congratulations on solving your case.”

Diana shrugged, trying to hide the hurt she was feeling as she placed her phone back in her pocket. “I guess that’s all he needed. And no. Do not paint any medical signs in here, your kid doesn’t need that yet. Or possibly ever.”

She turned her attention back to her fluffy white cloud, signalling she didn’t want to talk about it any further. Ethan Ramsey is nothing if not confusing.

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[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 11 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: AHHH I CAN’T STOP WRITINGGGGG okay, so, the Tiffany moon necklace is real, you can find it on their website here (now I want it for myself, but it’s almost $3000 sob). I debated over whether or not Duncan and Melody should have had an awkward rendezvous in the past and ultimately decided that if I were working in close proximity with Duncan Shepherd as a 21-year-old intern I too would have tried to put my hand drunkenly on his crotch at some point, so my point of view towards her is one of empathy and solidarity and honestly it just made sense to my story (lolol). Bill Shepherd is going to show up at some point, but the impression I got from the show is that he and Duncan only interact when they absolutely have to as they don’t get along; Duncan gravitates to his mother and she acts as a mediator, so Bill will have a very minor role in this story. Not sure if Beau Willimon ever came up with a middle name for Duncan, but I couldn’t find one and made one up (Malcolm). At this point I’m sort of trying to follow the timeline of the show in a VERY loose sense (and I guess this is a spoiler, but I am going to bring in the fact that Duncan finds out Annette is not his real mother into my fic soon, mostly so Kenzie can comfort him and stroke his hair and give him soft, sweet, sympathetic kisses cuz I am a sucker for that sweet comforting shit); the upcoming show Duncan, Melody and Seth go over in this chapter is meant to be the one where Melody talks about Claire Underwood’s “public breakdown” in episode 5; I’m not going to include Duncan getting arrested in this fic though, because it’s my fic and I can do whatever I want and I hated the fact that they chose to end Duncan’s character that way. Had to add that line from O Fortuna...because the Duncan/Michael parallels will never end. “She walks in beauty like the night...” is Lord Byron, a poem I was obsessed with when I was younger and have always wanted to put in a story. Kenzie making chicken and dumplings is a reference to the fact that Billie Lourd is fucking obsessed with chicken. Most people know Hades was the God of the Underworld; few people know he was also the god of gold and riches, which is very Duncan. It was important for me to imply Duncan had extensive cooking wares in his penthouse; that he cooks for himself. Dudes who can’t cook are a turn-off. Kenzie cooked for him because it made her happy to do it; it’s a way she’s showing him how much she loves him, not something she felt like she had to do, and I plan on them cooking together in future chapters. That moment Duncan leans against the wall across from Kenzie as they look out the window is my homage to the Cody lean. The prayer to Nike is a real one. Full-disclosure, the passing-out after really great sex is something that happens to me pretty often; I go into post-coital daze pretty hard, so Kenzie doing that is literally based on my own experiences, haha! Duncan will finally meet Madeline in the next part, but we’ll be seeing it all through Kenzie’s eyes.

Duncan had left the interview with Gretchen Friedrichs with his mind buzzing; he stepped out of the elevator with a vague pressure humming between his temples, rubbing his thumb into the palm of his other hand, trying to calm the simmering anger that was still hovering over him. He wondered, with some alarm, when the gossip website was planning on publishing Kenzie’s name and occupation. He wrestled with the idea of telling her; no, he thought, I have to do everything I can to ease her into this world carefully. God, I know she’s afraid and that kills me; I have to do everything I can to soothe her fear, not exacerbate it. One thing at a time.

He pulled his phone out, opening the Uber app and ordering a Black car; then, he opened his texts and sent one out to Kenzie; telling her about the Gala, about his mother’s stylist, about the theme (the theme is you, angel).

Kenzie: That’s beautiful, baby. I can’t believe you did that.

Since you’re the only thing I can think about, it seemed natural. And he knew it was true. She was filling this thoughts and his heart and his senses; nothing else seemed to matter, not the show or the company or the app or his mother, not Uncle Bill (who would I will likely hear from soon, he thought, hand coming up to his jaw, and he won’t like this at all). The emptiness and shallowness of the work his mother had enveloped him in since he was barely out of high school suddenly overwhelmed him; beside the luminous, boundless, sublime emotion of Mackenzie, her glittering, effulgent reality, the rest of the world had lost its brightness; it was black and white, and she was made of colors he had never seen and couldn’t begin to describe.

He looked back down at his phone. Kenzie had replied.

Kenzie: I think those women from the coffee shop posted something on Instagram already. My coworker said something to me as soon as I got into the office.

Fuck, he thought, rapidly typing. She’s going to need a bodyguard. I don’t want to scare her, but that’s going to have to happen very soon. He sent her Samuel’s contact; he’d given Samuel hers earlier that day after they’d dropped her off at One Franklin Square. “Please help me keep her safe,” he’d asked Samuel, his eyes meeting the warm brown gaze of his chauffeur in the mirror; as they always did.

“You have my word, Mr. Shepherd.”

Kenzie: Okay, baby. I feel overwhelmed.

Duncan’s heart resounded painfully in his chest; oh god, baby, he thought. I want to hold you so much right now. I want to shield you from all of this. He thought of the tender, aching way she’d brought her little hand down to his cock that morning, her little moans as she stirred awake under his kisses. He longed to soothe her in his arms; the anticipation of waiting for tonight felt like a thousand tiny, sharp knives were pressing into his skin, jarring and disconcerting. He wanted to be alone with her; he wanted the world to melt away, turn its eyes from them. I’m here. Anything you need or want from me, tell me right away. This will get easier in time, baby. I promise. I’m already dreaming about how hard I’m gonna make you come tonight. At home.

Kenzie: I’m dreaming about you too, baby. She’d left a lipstick-stain emoji at the end; he shivered, looking down at it, his mind drifting back to her mouth around his length that morning, the kisses she’d pressed against him outside One Franklin Square, in view of two dozen people, and how he’d gripped her against him, unable to care; lost in her, immediately aching as she ran away from him.

He walked out onto the sidewalk in front of the Ritz-Carlton (“Have a pleasant day, Mr. Shepherd,” the doorman said cordially; holding it open for him, and Duncan gave him a nod, trying to maintain his mask of calm) and stepped into the car waiting for him in front of the hotel. He had a meeting with Melody and Seth that would take a few hours; he winced at the withering look he knew was coming from Melody in particular. Oh well. It all had to come out; it was coming out, and he’d just have to weather the anger and annoyance that was coming his way, weather the disapproval and disbelief. Kenzie deserved that from it; she deserved everything. His patience, his courage, his resolve, and his love.

He opened the Instagram app; he glanced at his mentions, wincing. There was one of the photos the woman had snapped; I look fucking pissed, he thought. Kenzie looks like an angel. He loved the way she was tucked under his arm in the photo; loved the fall of her hair against his leather jacket, her little hand around her necklace. She fits there as though that’s where she was always meant to be. The piece of me once cut away, and now reunited. And me; the piece of her, now wrapped around her again, as if some fateful prophecy has finally been fulfilled. I'm not going to let anything tear us apart now.

Duncan saw her handle in his mentions; @kenzielouwho. He smiled, gazing down at his phone screen. I love that. Her sweetness. He hit the follow button, scrolled through her pictures, goggling at them, his face alight. He double-tapped again and again; here she was, her lovely taste and her coordinated little outfits and plants and the moons and stars of her world, her hair falling like a cascade of gold, laughing at the camera, smiling next to Claire, grinning over plates of food, snapshots of sunsets and evening lights and cute animals she met, books she was reading, songs she was listening to. He felt overcome again; overcome with the affection he felt for her, overcome with how much her happiness affected him, how much he wanted to bring her the joy he saw in her face in the photos, how much he wanted to be the source of her comfort and her love. He couldn’t help it; I’d do anything for this woman. I’d do anything. He found the photo of her looking out from the table at the coffee shop, a little moon at her throat, her sweater falling off her shoulder; he left the pierced hearts at the bottom with a feeling of wild abandon. You’ve pierced not just my heart, but my soul, and your happiness is my happiness, your comfort my comfort, your joy my greatest joy. He wished she was here so he could press the words against her skin with his lips; press into her and breathe deep, breathe her into him. To be away from her was such sweet torture. Looking through her pictures made him feel like there were flowers blooming and closing in quick succession in the center of his chest. He felt completely overwhelmed by them; again, he felt overwhelmed by her realness, her reality; the fact that she existed was astonishing again and again. I never want to wake up from this dream.

He found the video that had been taken of them (oh god, that went up fast) and blushed at the ardency with which he clutched her in them. And I thought the other picture was obvious, he thought sheepishly. But in that moment it had felt like no one else was there. He’d forgotten the world entirely, lost in her eyes and the waist of her skirt on her hips and her bare arms and the way she’d looked up into his eyes, the way she fit against him. There hadn’t been anyone else there, he thought. Not really. It was only us. It was only Kenzie.

-----

Duncan stepped into Shepherd Hall towards the upstairs offices and the Beltway studio where he was supposed to meet Melody and Seth, glancing down as his phone echoed out its soft text chime; Mom.

Duncan Malcolm Shepherd. You’ve exacerbated this situation considerably. What the fuck were you thinking? Clearly you are infatuated and it’s making you behave like a drunk frat boy. I understand that public encounters are somewhat inevitable, but kissing this girl in front of a crowd is absolutely unacceptable. Your uncle is furious. I can only control him if you control yourself. Get yourself under fucking control, Duncan. Focus on our objectives.

Shit, he thought. Shit, meet fan. Fuck Uncle Bill. He’s dying and he’s bitter about it and he wants to make someone else suffer before he kicks it. And I’m not going to play into it. He didn’t reply. You know we’re together, Mom, he thought. I told you I love her. What else do you want from me? I’m not a fucking child. I’ll do what you want when it comes to the company, but not when it comes to her.

He took the back staircase up a floor to where the offices were; the studio was set up at the end of the hall. As he came through the doorway, he was met with the very annoyed gaze of Melody Cruz; his eyes glanced over to where Seth sat beside her, nervously focusing on the memo pad in front of him, eyes skirting between the two of them, then back down.

“Oh, hello, Duncan,” Melody simpered, plastering a painful-looking smile on her face. Murder, her eyes shot out at him. Stone cold murder. “Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence, I know how busy you are lately.”

“Melody. Seth.” Duncan ignored her tone, pulling the chair at the head of the rectangular table in the far corner of the studio out, sitting in it neatly, putting his phone face-down on the table in front of him, crossing one leg over the other, using all his will to keep his expression neutral; cool, calm, collected, impenetrable Duncan Shepherd. Everyone seemed hellbent on getting a rise out of him this morning; of all the people in his life he considered close, it seemed only Samuel was happy for his good fortune. Fine. Perhaps it wasn’t unreasonable to reevaluate the roles of others in his life in the first place. “Let’s go over everything for the taping tomorrow.”

“I guess you’re just going to pretend like you haven’t been making a total mockery lately of all the work we’ve done, then?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what the fuck you mean, Melody.”

Seth’s eyes fluttered between them again, licking his lips, clicking a pen nervously in one hand. “Um, everything’s fine, Melody, I’m...I’m sure there won’t be any effect on the show.”

“Are you fucking dense, Seth? Of course it will fucking affect the fucking show! Madeline Stone’s fuck-ing daugh-ter!” She slapped her hand against the edge of the table, enunciating sharply. “You think our audience is primarily comprised of intersectional feminists and people who buy cage-free eggs?”

“Melody, you’re out of line.” Duncan felt his temper rising; a temper that hadn’t really settled since Gretchen Friedrichs tried to blackmail him half an hour ago.

Melody went quiet, her eyes burning, her expression infuriated.

“I understand the reasons my relationship may be a shock to you--”

“You better fucking believe it’s a fucking shock. I’ve never known you to be one to even call back for a second date, let alone whatever it going on with you right now. What, you fucking love her?”

Duncan gazed at her; her dark eyes met his icy blue stare evenly. He felt his tendency towards manipulation and coercion begin to try to float to the surface of his composure; for a moment, he considered firing her. It’s what last week’s Duncan would have done, he thought, and strangely, he felt a nervous edge creep into his composure; he was rubbing a hand along his bottom lip before realized he was doing it, looking away from her. This Duncan had been unutterably shaken by a little gold angel in a black dress. This Duncan was not the same man who had last sat in this studio, last plotted out the trajectory of how best to unseat the sitting President of the United States, last given Melody sheets of propaganda to read on air. I’m not totally sure who this Duncan is, he thought; Melody still stared, her expression seeping into confusion at his metamorphosing reaction. I just know I don’t want the same things I wanted a few days ago. I want her. And I don’t care what anyone thinks of it. I care what she thinks first and how she feels first and I don’t care who her mother is and I don’t care how many times people see us kiss on the street and I don’t want to be away from her, not for all the money in the world, not for all the power, not for the world itself or a hundred worlds. And nothing any of you say is going to make me leave her.

“Yes. Melody. I love her.”

Melody scoffed, leaning her head back into the headrest of her swivel chair, crossing her arms under her chest, turning away from him. Once, long ago, when Melody had been an intern for Shepherd Unlimited, they’d slept together. It was a hasty, short-lived event; neither of them had even really undressed for it, and Duncan hadn’t been able to come; they’d both been drunk and she had pressed a hand suggestively against his crotch and the scotch in his blood had convinced him that it was a good idea and it wouldn’t matter the next day, the way the scotch in his blood had decided halfway through that his cock was ready to go to sleep. Neither of them had ever really mentioned it again; but Duncan knew that Melody had never really let it go. Not in words; it was always in looks. But he wasn’t sure if her anger really had all that much to do with who Kenzie’s mother was as it had to do with the fact that this girl, whoever she was, was the girl Duncan Shepherd had decided was the one for him, kissing her openly in the street, standing in line with her in coffee shops with his arm around her, holding her hand on the way to private rooms in posh French bistros, cameras be damned.

“I guess this is why you fucked up your interview so many times the other day,” she said icily. “Thinking about her perfect little pink pussy.”

“Melody.”

“Seth, give him the fucking outline.”

“Melody. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about that time.”

Melody’s eyes fell on him, shining; shocked.

“I’m truly sorry about that night. I appreciate you and the work you do immensely; I see the long hours you put into the show and Gardner Analytics. I haven’t told you that enough. I know that happened a long time ago, but it was stupid, and we should have talked about it after it happened, and we didn’t. I should have said something to you, apologized, and I didn’t. This apology is far too late, and my timing is terrible. But I am sorry.”

Seth was carefully drawing circles on his memo pad; he pretended to look at his phone, as if engrossed in whatever he saw there, but Duncan could see how rigid his body was.

Melody continued to stare at him, not speaking. He uncrossed his legs and sat up; sat with his arms resting on his knees. He cleared his throat a little.

“I know it’s not convenient. But the truth is, I love Mackenzie Stone. It wasn’t expected; it wasn’t planned. It happened. Annette knows, and she knew before the video and the photo from today. I understand your hesitation and your concern for the future of Gardner Analytics and the show. But the reality is, my relationship will continue regardless of whether or not you approve of it; whether or not anyone approves of it who isn’t Mackenzie or me. But I am sorry, Melody. I respect you deeply as a friend and as a coworker. And I’m sorry my apology took so long.”

Melody bit her bottom lip, and he could see her arms clenching against her torso where she had them crossed. Then, she looked down at the folder in front of her, opened it, and passed him the sheet of paper on top.

“Outline for Episode 153.”

Duncan nodded, reaching for the paper, pulling it toward him, as Melody blew out a long breath, and began her overview.

--------

It was after 6 by the time Duncan left Shepherd Hall; he looked down at his phone (he hadn’t for hours as they went over the episode--as this one was supposed to be about President Underwood’s thus far very public breakdown, it had to be flawless) as Seth and Melody walked away from him. Melody had looked over her shoulder, giving him a strange look that he couldn’t decipher, then waved shortly, turning away--it gave him the feeling that something minute and ever-present had been vaguely fixed between them, though. Kenzie and Samuel had texted him; Samuel’s was at the top, more recent, so he saw it first: Mr. Shepherd, Miss Mackenzie is safely at home. If you need my services, I am now available to you.

Yes, please, Samuel. I’m at Shepherd Hall. I need to go to Tiffany’s.

Samuel responded right away. Very good, Mr. Shepherd. I will be there in ten minutes.

He scrolled down to the text from baby, angel, beloved

Kenzie: There were a bunch of reporters waiting outside the building when I tried to leave work. My boss helped me through the back door, but two of them still found me. Thankfully Samuel was there, but I think they got me on camera. I don’t know who they were with. I’m okay. Samuel was wonderful. I’ll be so relieved to see you, baby.

Oh, no, he thought, his heart sinking. Someone beat buzzpopfeed to their info. He knew how clever people could be online; they found the tiniest clues and used them to sleuth vast swaths of information (once, a fan on Instagram had zoomed in on every toiletry behind him in a selfie he’d drunkenly taken in his bathroom and made a list of “Duncan Shepherd’s Go-To Grooming Must Haves”, which was published by a gossip site soon after). Seeing Kenzie run into One Franklin Square on camera was a dead giveaway, and he raked a hand through the curls at the side of his face in frustration. That was so fucking stupid of me. I should never have gotten out of the car after her. I should have controlled myself. And now people are trying to molest her at work. That’s my fucking fault. He wondered if it was buzzpopfeed that had found Kenzie on the opposite side of her building; they were notorious for breaking into private residences and crossing police lines, inventing elaborate scenarios to get onto upper hotel floors where they knew celebrities were staying, and wearing hidden cameras. That’s just the sort of shit they’d do, he thought. And if they got her on camera I don’t doubt it’ll be on their site soon.

He thought about going to the site to check, but stopped himself. I’m sure I’ll get another angry text soon enough from Mom if there’s something new, he told himself. And what, she’ll be angry at Kenzie for trying to leave work. As if there was an alternative.

But Mom: she’s easy to love. She’s so lovely. When you meet her, how could you not see it? Mom, I love her. You’ll see why; and then, you can’t tell me what I’m doing is wrong. Then you won’t be able to say I’m making a mistake.

The thought was like one he would have had when he was a child; lost in the orb of his mother, always admiring her, always certain with an unshakable conviction that she was right. Always sure that she knew what was best. The innocence of the thought struck him; even if he knew now that his mother was far from perfect, and that her intentions were often underhanded, he couldn’t shake the hope that she would warm to Kenzie in time. The alternative was unthinkable.

Samuel pulled up, Ella drifting quietly from the interior: your daddy’s rich, and your mamma’s good-lookin’...so hush little baby...baby, don’t you cry...Duncan pulled the door open, letting the warm evening air drift over him and push his hair back, a strange wave of nostalgia washing over him; a mixture of sadness and hopeful longing. If such a wonderful, fateful thing could happen to him; meeting her at all, finding her at all, in a world of so many people walking past each other every day without a second glance, surely the miracle of his mother accepting and loving her could, too, come to pass. O Fortune, like the Moon of ever-changing fate, ever waxing, ever waning...where had he heard that before? The line echoed in his mind as Samuel pulled away from the curb, and they were both silent, a quiet understanding passing between them; Duncan nodded to Samuel through the mirror; thank you. Thank you for taking care of my Kenzie today. Samuel’s eyes seemed to glow in the dim light; seemed to him like twin moons in a black sky.

I’m so glad you’re okay, baby, he texted Kenzie. I’ll be home soon. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms.

------

An hour later, Duncan stepped out of the BMW in front of his high-rise with a very distinct blue box tucked carefully under his arm; his eyes glided up to the 30th floor, where he knew he could sometimes see into the long window of his penthouse if the light was right in the evening. He could see the reading lamps near the window were turned low; could see the reflection of light coming from where the kitchen and dining room were to the north end of building, but he couldn’t see Kenzie; she wasn’t near the window, it seemed. An almost-vanished sliver of moon hung over it, like the rind of a melon devoured. He walked quickly into the building, anxious to be near her; the doorman, Jerry, nodded to him with familiarity. “Mr. Shepherd, fine night.”

“It really is, Jerry, hey,” Duncan moved past him, giving Anchaly a nod. Anchaly gave him a knowing smile; his copy of Tropic of Cancer catching Duncan’s eye for a moment. “Enchanting,” Anchaly said as he walked past, eyeing the blue box under his arm. “She walks in beauty, like the night / of cloudless climes and starry skies--” Duncan grinned at him, heading to the elevators, feeling flushed. “And all that’s best of dark and bright / meet in her aspect and her eyes,” he finished, as the doors slid open.

“Just so,” Anchaly agreed, and turned back to his book.

Duncan looked at himself in the long mirror as it climbed, unaware that Kenzie had done the same only a few short hours before; his hand pressed along the smooth line of his leather jacket, only just now remembering he’d worn the same clothes for two days. He sniffed his armpit carefully; not too bad, considering. He ran a nervous hand through his hair; still nervous, he wondered. Still trembling to behold her grace. I hope that feeling never fades. I don’t know how it could. He thought of how she’d looked clutched against him in this mirror, in that haze of their first night together; how it had made his cock throb, his nerves set on fire, her little body pressed to him, his hands in her hair. He felt his cock growing hard now, pressing with urgency into the lining of his tailored slacks (her little tongue in my mouth, her little nipples in my fingers, my hand between her legs, her laugh, her smile, the light falling on her); he ran his fingers along the edge of the blue box, swallowing carefully, pressing a thumb along his jaw. The doors slid open, achingly, seemingly impossibly slow. He walked to his own door, heart thumping wildly, as though it belonged to her now; it’s because I belong to her now, he thought. And I’m happy to obey her every whim.

He used the second keycard he carried in his wallet to unlock the door; it was usually tucked into the inner lining of his wallet, but he’d moved it to the spot where the old one used to be in his billfold; the one that now belonged to her. As Duncan opened the familiar doorway of his apartment, warm, wonderful smells enveloped him; food smells, lovely and enticing and comforting.

“Kenzie?”

She emerged to his left; from the dining room, a room he never used, a room that would be gathering dust but for the housekeepers’ attentions. Kenzie’s face looked tired; there were small dark circles under her wide hazel eyes, and her cheeks were pale, but her lips were pink (like roses), as if rosy from hot liquid; she was wearing a little slip dress that fell almost to the floor, one of the straps falling down her arm, and its color reminded him of wine grapes firming on twisting vines. Her neck was bare and her hair fell around her shoulders, catching the light of the diamond-drop chandelier.

“Hey, baby,” she said quietly, and her eyes seemed dark again as they stared at each other for a long moment; green and bronze. “Hi.”

He put the blue box down on the stand by the front door, his eyes not moving from her face.

“Baby...” he whispered. He closed the distance between them, his hand coming behind her head and cradling it, the other falling down her cheek and neck to her shoulder and down her arm, feeling insistently, hungrily, with terrible relief. She fell into him with urgency, her hands grasping the lapels of his jacket with tight little fingers, her mouth opening to him with need. They stood this way for a moment that felt like an eon, a lifetime, pressing into each other, lost in the solace of each other; he thought again that he’d be happy to die now, breathing into her. She lifted her mouth away a little and he tried to follow her; “baby, today was the strangest day,” she whispered into him, closing her eyes, face lifted up to him, hands pressing up his arms.

“I’m so sorry I followed you out of the car--” he started, his voice tinged with the remorse he felt, tinged with regret.

“I’m not.” She looked into his eyes, her little body sighing. “I’m glad you did. Now everyone knows you’re mine.”

He smiled; his hands fell through her hair and down the small of her back, loving the smooth feeling of the dress through his fingers, the silky strands of her. He turned his face, kissing the corner of her mouth; he moved his lips so they trailed along her bottom lip, biting a little, sucking gently, and he was thrilled at the moan that seeped out of her, her eyes fluttering.

“I got something for you.” He stepped away from her, gently gripping her hand and pulling her along with him, towards where he’d left the blue box on the stand by the door. He stroked the contours of her knuckles and fingers for a moment as she glanced at the box, her face curious; then, with a small burst of excitement scattering through her eyes. He handed it to her with both hands, stepping close. “Oh, Duncan,” she murmured, looking up into his eyes again, making him shiver with the devotion he felt, frozen in her gaze.

She pulled at the white ribbon around it, the black lettering emerging from underneath it; Tiffany & Co. He took the ribbon gently so she could lift the lid, and as her eyes fell on what was inside, the little laugh of delight that escaped her filled his heart with tenderness that made him want to press his face to her neck. Inside the box was a platinum necklace on a long chain; the charm at the end of it was a crescent moon set with brilliant round diamonds, which immediately threw their glow against her face, under her eyes. “A moon,” she whispered.

“The moon on a string, for you,” he replied, grasping her hand again, pressing his thumb over it. “My beloved.”

“It’s perfect. It’s too much--” Her eyes took on that overwhelmed glimmer; he shook his head, pulling her mouth onto his again, shushing her worry.

“It’s not. It’s not nearly enough. I wish I could pull the real moon down and give it to you.”

She grinned into his lips. “That’s beautiful. But I don’t know what I’d do with the moon all to myself. The world needs her. I love her best where she is.”

“Of course you would say something like that,” he whispered into her, his thumb brushing a gently trail from her cheek to her earlobe, twisting a strand of golden-brown hair through his fingers.

“Like what?”

“Something so lovely, and so kind, and gentle.”

Her eyelids fluttered downwards as she blushed; he could feel her shaking a little under his touch. He gently lifted the necklace from the box, and he reached out with his long fingers, pressing the index of his left hand into the hollow of her throat, trailing it there.

“May I?”

She nodded, her green-tinted eyes staring at him again, her mouth open ever-so-little. She lifted her hair and turned, exposing the whiteness at the back of her throat, the bumps of her spine and the incline of her shoulder blades above the dip of the dress; he resisted the urge to kiss her there, later, and unclasped the hook, lifting it around her head, his fingers brushing against her with longing as he clasped it at the nape of her neck. She turned around again, facing him, a sweet smile playing at the corners of her lips; “how do I look,” she asked, her eyes falling into him.

“Like an angel,” he said, hands against her shoulders, fingers trailing. “Like a goddess.” And she did to him; the soft light on her skin and her hair, dazzling against the little round diamonds in the crescent moon, the shape of her little breasts pressing against the soft velvet of the lilac-colored dress. “You look like Persephone, goddess of spring.”

A strange look came into Kenzie’s eyes; one of a dawning realization, or a familiar deja vu; she brought her little hands to his cheeks, trailing them softly along the stubble on his jaw, onto the bottom of his lip; he pressed his mouth against her fingers, closing his eyes.

“Then that makes you my Hades, God of Wealth, King of the Underworld, Lord of the Dark Places.”

“Spooky.”

She giggled.

“Thank you, baby. I love it so much. I love you...so much.”

“I love you too, Kenzie. I love you.” He opened his eyes again to her; everything I have is yours now, he thought. Everything is for you. All of me.

“Come have dinner.” She smiled mischievously, pulling back from him. She held his hand and pulled him through the doorway into the room he never used; its centerpiece was the long cherrywood dining table that once belonged to Duncan’s great-grandfather, a piece passed down to him by his mother when he moved into his penthouse years ago. Kenzie had found one of the linen tablecloths packed away in the drawers of the darkwood sliding-door china cabinet Duncan never touched; it was carefully tucked around the table, and on it was a lovely spread; she’d moved some of the pillar candles from the coffee table into this room, lighting them in the center, and their warm glow dazzled into his eyes, making them tear.

“I made chicken and dumplings,” he heard Kenzie say softly. “It’s one of my favorites, my mom always made it for me when I was growing up, especially after she’d had a particularly hard day; now, to me, it’s always comfort food.” His eyes roved hungrily over the spread she’d created; his favorite shallow cooking pot full of fluffy dumplings covered in speckled parsley, and steamy, bright chicken stew; another platter had smoky tendrils of broccoli rabe, and a third had an array of colorful root vegetables, yellow beets and dark orange chopped carrots and purple turnips.

“Kenzie, this is wonderful,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Thank you for cooking for me. I’m so happy you did this for me.”

“I wanted to,” she said, shyly, the diamonds around her neck catching the light, her cheeks, pale when his eyes had first fallen on her, now glowing with her emotions and the touch of his fingers. “I wanted to make you something because you’ve been so wonderful...because you’ve made me feel so wonderful…”

“Kenzie, baby,” he couldn’t stop, he pulled her into him again, aching, his body shuddering into her, his lips falling along the side of her face, and she sighed into him, “God, I missed you so much today, I wanted to see you so much…”

“I felt the same way baby, I’m so happy you’re home--”

He pulled her hand up to his face, kissing her open palm with terrible softness, overcome.

“I’m starving,” he said, grinning at her, and she smiled back (my moonlight), kissing him, nodding, saying “Me too, let’s eat, let’s eat.”

-------

Over the dinner Kenzie had created for him, Kenzie told him about everything that had happened to her after she ran into One Franklin Square; “Ben Wilder is basically the Annette Shepherd of the Washington Post,” she said to him, her eyes flashing. “Everyone is terrified of him, and he demanded I get you to give him an interview. It’s impossible to hide any modicum of gossip from him.”

“I’ll give him an interview,” Duncan said between mouthfuls of Kenzie’s savory chicken and dumplings. God, this girl can cook. I can’t wait for us to cook something together, he thought. I can’t wait for us to cook together for so many nights to come. He watched her eyes goes dark with surprise at his words. “...You will?” He watched her fingers fall to the diamond moon hanging at her beautiful throat; Kenzie, baby, I love your fingers there, I love your fingers, my little moon, my Persephone--

“Of course.”

“Duncan, I work for The Washington Post.”

He laughed a little, drinking down a mouthful of the Grand Cru he’d opened for them, bringing the bottle over to him, pouring more into his crystal glass, pouring some into hers carefully. “Kenzie. I know.”

“So...how is that going to be okay with your mother?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll do it.”

Her eyes shone out at a him from where she sat across from him; he was at the head of the beautiful cherrywood table, and she was sitting in the seat to his left, facing the doorway to the kitchen, her little face soft in the candlelight.

“Okay,” she said, and the smile that spread over her cheeks was like the blush of spring flowers in the rain. He reached over to her; her fingers curled through his, and the energy that passed between them was like the rolling crash of thunder over an open plain; wide and intense and open and circling down into the cores of their bodies, through the fingers that touched. They gazed at each other for a moment, hands tightly together. Then, Kenzie grasped her wine glass in her little slender fingers, stood, and, still clasping his hand against hers, said, “I seem to recall a bold claim from this morning.”

He looked up at her; she glowed, and his breath fell away from him.

“A certain Prince of the Underworld, he of vast fortune and troves of gold and black flowers with silver stems, told me he was going to make me come...so...fucking...hard.”

Duncan smiled; smiled with an all-encompassing happiness that pierced into the center of him, one that made him want to scream with its intensity; he let go of her (I don’t want to)  and wiped his mouth on the cloth napkin at his lap, but as he stood, she moved away from him, gazing coyly into his eyes as she did, over her shoulder, cradling the wine glass against her; come and get me, her eyes whispered. His groin shuddered with a coiled sort of agony and he pulled his own wine glass with him, languidly, following her slowly, leaning against the door to watch her move through the kitchen and the wide front room, flipping the light switch so they were bathed in darkness, as she moved towards where the long glass window stretched, its blank face gazing down on the city lights; the silky movement of the dress against her back and her ass, one of the straps falling down again, the incline of her breast almost completely visible to him, the waves of her hair down her back; Duncan imagined flowers tangled in the strands, peonies like the little flowers on the glass of water he’d pulled in her hand, roses like the roses on the balcony and in the bathtub, the candles clustered around them, her body hovering over him in the water, her fingers clutching at his stubble.

She gazed out onto the city, quietly, lost in her own thoughts again, it seemed; he felt like he could almost see the gentle cascade of her thoughts in this moment, the hazy warmth of the wine spreading through her, the pain and confusion of the day fading and spreading down into the city, away from them; he put this moment, looking at her, bathed in a soft glow, into the memories of her he would always cherish, always have locked in his heart. He watched as she sipped the wine, the crystal edge of the glass reflecting the golden helmet of Pallas Athena beside her.

“You know,” she said, as he moved towards her, carefully, “today, after I got here, I looked at your home for a long time. Its energy. Its spirit.”

“What did you see?” He couldn’t remove the longing from his voice; everything I want, everything I need, he thought. It’s you. Only you. He came up against the other side, against the wall of his study; he leaned against it, his arm propped up, trying to look out at the capital city’s glow; but his eyes turned to her, almost involuntary, lost in her.

She dipped her head down for a moment, thoughtful, her eyes to the steep incline of the ground, thirty stories down; the crystal glass glinted in her hand again, throwing stardust against her cheek.

“That you love art and beauty. That you love books. That you love the strength of women; the strength and yes, the beauty, and the beauty of men, too, I think. I think so. And that you have a great and hidden depth in you, Duncan Shepherd, one that perhaps not everyone around you sees; one that you hold secret, pressed against your heart.”

He kept his eyes on her. She turned to him, dazzling, soft, and he noticed her wine glass was almost empty now.

“I think you really are like the God of the Underworld; a prince on a cold throne. And I think you need a Queen made of Light who sees the light in you. And I think I am her.”

She stepped away from him once more; looking over her shoulder again, setting the crystal glass next to Athena, a swirl of red still in the bottom, moving on to the soft, low light of the bedroom. His breath seemed caught in his chest; he put his own glass, a little wine left in it, an offering, next to Nike, whom he stood near; bring me Victory, blessed Nike, whence I toil like the bees, you bring me honey--

As he entered the bedroom (quiet black sheets, the cover thrown back) he saw her pushing the dress from her shoulders, stepping out of it; she was naked underneath, and his nerves thrilled to realize she had been naked underneath it since he came home; thrilled at the secret she’d held that he had not realized, but she left the necklace on, the moon made of diamonds, and Kenzie looked over her shoulder at him, her long lashes languid as she laid down on the bed, sighing into it, bending one of her knees so her thigh fell over her sex, hidden from him just a little, her face turned to where he stood there at the door, leaning against it, staring over her.

Kenzie moved her legs apart, her sweet little sex opening to him, reminding him of that first night, days ago--

He pulled his jacket off quickly, about to pull his shirt off just as quick--but she murmured “slow, baby, I wanna watch you,” and he slowed himself; anything you want, angel, he thought. Whatever you want, now and always, and as he unbuckled his belt, now shirtless, he watched her little fingers go down between her legs and rub at her little clit, her mouth falling open.

“Baby, stop,” he said, firmly.

Her eyes widened at him; her finger paused its circles at her core.

“Put your hands up above your head. Against the headboard.”

Her eyes went darker; that glow, forest-green, haunting. Kenzie lifted her hands up, grasping onto the slats above her. Her mouth was still open, lips parted just a little, her breath coming out in tiny, quiet gasps.

“I’m gonna make you come.”

He watched the shiver fall down her body, starting at her shoulder, through her torso, her hips, her legs, to her toes. She gripped the slats harder, opening her mouth a little more. He pushed his pants and his briefs off his body, staring at her, his cock falling against his fingers for a moment, making him moan, and then he reached down and picked up his belt where he had dropped it; he let it hang carefully down from his hand for a moment, watched her eyes travel over it, a mixture of desire and apprehension in them, then he climbed onto the bed, between her legs; he didn’t touch her, but she wrapped her legs around his thighs, the head of his cock brushing for a second against the open lips of her sex, and they both shuddered. He lifted his arms up and pressed the smooth leather strap against her little wrists; she let out a moaning little cry that made his heart feel as thought it was going to burst out of him, but he concentrated on the task at hand; he wrapped the straps around two of the slats, buckling them together behind it, pulling the strap tight against her, not too tight, but enough to make it so she couldn’t move her wrists out of the belt; he watched her hands flex for a moment, and then he looked down into her wide hazel eyes; she nodded to him, eyes fluttering, and he moved his long hands down her arms, fingers closing over her round breasts and gripping the diamond moon above her breasts for a moment, down further as he moved his body back, hands on her waist and now her hips and now her thighs, pushing then further apart; he saw the little tears glittering in the corners of her eyes, felt the shiver of her body under his hot hands.

“Is it okay, baby?” he whispered, hesitating.

“Yes, baby, yes,” she whimpered, an edge in her voice that made him shake. “Yes, fuck, yes…”

He moved his head down to hover just above her folds, above the lip of her clit; his hair fell over his forehead, brushing her belly, the dip of her bellybutton; she shivered, crying out again; then he pressed his lips into her, his tongue laving out to urge against her core; he looked up as he did, watching her arms resist the constraint of his belt holding her for a moment, tight on her wrists, pressing into her skin, her little mouth stretching in need; “Duncan, fuck, ohhhh--”

“You like being tied up like that, baby?” he whispered, then he pressed his tongue against her again, long and slow and aching, and her hips bucked into him, and she let out a little shuddering cry that made him painfully hard, made his cock jump against the sheet.

“Y-y-es, baby, yes…”

He brought one of his large, long hands up, fingers curling; then he brought it down suddenly, a soft but sharp little slap onto the sensitive slit between her legs, and she cried out again, leather pressing into her little wrists.

“Did you like that?”

“Yes.” The tears glimmered in her eyes again; her cheeks were rosy, and he could see her pussy slowly turning dark pink from his attentions. “Yes. Do it again, baby.”

He lifted his hand again, his palm and fingers flat; this time he brought his hand down again, harder this time, slapping her clit with a rough immediacy.

“Fuuuuck, fuck!” Kenzie moaned. “Please, suck my clit, baby…”

Duncan leaned down, eagerly, his lips closing around the bud of her; he sucked deeply, carefully, his tongue swirling over her, and he felt her hips buck into him again, her moans strangled and needy and unwinding.

“Kenzie, I’m gonna make you come hard,” he whispered into her, his breath making her buck into him again, and again, her mouth a little O, her wrists shaking, “and then I’m gonna make you come again after that.”

“O-okay, baby,” and her voice was shuddering, high, driving him into white feelings of madness.

He worked his tongue against her again, and his fingers came up; he pressed two, his index and middle fingers, into the wet core of her body, curling them, flexing back and forth, his lips sucking into her clit again. She cried out again; “Baby, I am gonna fucking c-cu-um,” and he kept his mouth pressed heavily into her clit as she shuddered under him, his fingers still buried inside her pussy as her wetness fell against them, moisture gathering between the spaces of his digits, sweet-smelling and thick. She continued to shudder for some time; he laid his head gently into her abdomen, his fingers coming out of her, soaked with her, his hands pressing into her jutting hipbones, tracing them and leaving traces of wetness and his lips pressed into her skin, ignoring his own hardness, his own need, for the moment.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking godddd,” Kenzie moaned, and he looked up; tears coursed down her cheeks and her shoulders were shaking. Her hands were still clamped in the confines of his tight leather belt; he leaned up, reaching behind the slats, untying it, tossing it aside, gently grasping her wrists, bringing his lips to where they’d left red marks on her, kissing her tenderly.

“Are you okay, baby,” he whispered.

“Yes,” she whimpered, though tears still coursed from her eyes. “Yes.”

“Good. I’m gonna fuck you again now. And you’re gonna come for me again.”

Her eyes opened wide, wide from their fluttering, hazy half-lids; she gasped a little, and then she nodded, and she whispered “yes, baby, my Prince, fuck me hard now.”

He pulled her up, gripping her under her arms; “come here, baby, come with me,” he whispered, and her little naked body slipped off the bed as he pulled her, and he kissed her with his mouth open with fierce admonition, fingering the diamond moon at her breast in his large elegant hand and she lifted herself up to him and her tongue tangled against his and as he pulled her towards him he saw a glitter of moisture that slipped down her leg from her release. He gripped her hand tightly, pulling her from the bedroom; he led her to the window, his glass window, surveying all of the city, a wall of glass, and he pressed her hands against it tenderly in the darkness, the only light now shining below them, his mouth open under her ear, his body pressed against her back and her thighs, his cock hard between her legs, brushing against her cunt, sensitive and soaking wet, and she moaned again, her eyes looking back at him for a moment, then back at the lights below as his large hand came around her throat and he pressed his length into her, his other hand coming around to her clit, rubbing insistently.

“Isn’t it beautiful,” he whispered into her ear as he fucked her, raw and rough and with wild desire, and her little mouth hovered over the glass, her breath cascading in clouds against it, her fingers curling where they were pressed, fingers splayed, her knees buckling just a little against him, her ass moving back to press into him as his fingers bored into her core and pressed harshly into her neck, her hips moving against him, her feel tip-toed to reach up to his height, her eyes looking out, glancing up at their reflection over her shoulder. “Almost as beautiful as you are, but nothing is, no one is, nobody is as beautiful as you are, Kenzie, my angel--” Duncan could see the outline of them there too, in the reflection, his hair tossed against his forehead, his mouth open in a mixture of lust and concentration, her wide eyes turned up almost into her head as she gasped, and he moved the hand from her neck to twist around her chestnut hair, pulling it tight, bringing her head back with a soft jerk, and she moaned “oh goddd--” and ground against him again, ground down onto him so he was completely buried inside her. His index finger was grinding circles into the side of her clit; he moved it down to where moisture was dripping down her leg, dripping down the length of his cock as he pulled in and out of her, and gathered it on his finger, bringing it back to her clit, soaking wet--

“Baby, I’m--I’m gonna come again, I’m gonna--”

This time, Kenzie’s little body rocked back onto him, her fingers clenching into fists on the glass, her cunt spasming down onto his length with a force that brought stars behind his eyes, and he watched the glitter of the diamonds at her neck reflect in the glass. “Fu-u-uuck my pussy, fuck my little cunt with your big cock,” Kenzie cried out, and he lifted out of her and plunged back, feeling the vague outline of her cervix brushing his head; then, Kenzie screamed; she screamed and her body began to shake, to vibrate against him, the lips of her so far down on his cock that they brushed against his balls, and he felt another cascade of moisture seep out of her, this one more intense than the first, dripping down his testicles in rivulets, and he shuddered a hallucinatory release into her that made him blind for a moment, his cock immediately sensitive and painful with its intensity, his voice crying out “Fuck, fuuuck, I wanna be inside you forever, Kenzie, goddess, I wanna fuck you until I die--”

They leaned heavily into each other for a moment; her cunt spasming up onto his cock, his cock shuddering into tenderness inside her; then he pulled out and Kenzie slid, weakly, to the floor, breathing heavily, her little breasts shuddering.

“Oh baby, are you alright--” Duncan immediately crouched to her, avoiding the sensitive area between his thighs, his eyes widening with alarm; he tucked a hand around the crook of her neck, the other hand coming around her waist and holding her up as he gently pushed her head towards him; her breathing was heavy and her eyes fluttered once more, half in and half out of consciousness. He pressed his fingers against her cheek softly, tapping it a little; her eyes trembled open, and the look she gave him was one of supple, dream-like trust.

“Oh, baby,” she whispered. “Oh, Duncan.” Her eyes hovered between opening and closing; her breath slowed, and she murmured “I’m so sleepy, baby,” and they closed and she was hovering there in his arms, breathing softly, lost in her post-coital euphoria.

Duncan pressed a kiss to her cheek; he hovered there, breathing in the smell of her skin, then he hitched his arm around the back of her knees and the other around her shoulders, and he picked her up, carrying her into the bedroom and onto the bed, where he pulled the sheets and the duvet over her little body; my poor angel, my poor sweet baby, he thought. I have to talk to her about a bodyguard tomorrow, I know she won’t want one, but I have to convince her it’s for the best, god, I have to. He watched the shadow of her eyelashes against her cheek, the slow breath that moved her body under the blanket, the slow shadow of her heartbeat against her throat. Then he moved towards the bathroom; his groin was still soaked in her release, his cock still throbbing as he came down from his orgasm; he went to one of the drawers under the bathroom sink to get the wet wipes he always stored there (a million uses) and paused, his heart in his mouth, as he saw her little toiletries lined along one side of the sink, the side he’d cleared for her; his on the left, hers on the right. The dark red bottle of her perfume; he pulled it over to him and brought his nose to the nozzle, breathing in; roses, vetiver, geranium, and his body sighed into the smell, the smell that was her. A little black hairbrush rested on the edge of the sink; strands of her chestnut hair glinting in it. A little eyeliner stick, a tube of lipstick, a stick of mascara, a bottle of face wash. All her little things, the little pieces of her. His immaculate grooming supplies were on the opposite side, spotless and still; hers threw warmth into the space, made his cheeks blush; he wanted to touch everything, kiss each of her belongings, memorize their shape. Duncan felt overcome again; it was as if her things had always been missing before, leaving a Kenzie-shaped hole, one he didn’t know existed, but could feel, somewhere in his hidden heart. And now, they weren’t missing anymore. Here they were. He could reach out and touch them, like he could reach out and touch the smooth contour of her skin, the waves of her hair, where she slept in his bed. Our bed, he thought, smoky desire drifting, cleaning himself up, shivering as the cold wipe touched his still-sensitive cock; using another one under his arms, at the back of his neck. Our bathroom. Our apartment. I’m going to ask her to move in with me. How can I keep her safe if she isn’t here with me? How can I sleep without her now? He imagined reporters hounding her as she tried to leave for work in the morning; imagined people trying to get into her apartment building at night, trying to look in her windows. The thought absolutely chilled him. I’ll ask her. I want to soothe the worry I saw in her eyes tonight. I don’t want her to worry about anything, or anyone. And I don’t want to sleep alone anymore.

Duncan left the bathroom, naked, flipping the light-switch, but not before one long, last glance at Kenzie’s little things on the sink; he smiled, his heart full. He turned towards the closet, eyes falling over Kenzie where she slept again; she was breathing slowly now, far away, the diamonds still glinting at her throat; he went to her softly, unclasping the necklace at the nape of her neck, gently lifting it away from her so she wouldn’t wake, pressing the softest, lightest of kisses into her cheek, his heart on fire. He put it on the side-table, noticing her phone there; it was turned over so he could see its gold case and the moon sticker on it, fading away from use; he trailed one finger over it, lovingly, then turned and walked into his closet. Duncan bent to the drawer, in search of sweatpants, but he stopped, noticing the little outfits that now hung in the space he’d cleared for them; her clothes in my closet--our closet, he thought, and looked down on the shelf below, where there were a few other things stacked in a row; a little black bag, some little moon and star jewelry. Her little things. His chest swelled with longing; he wanted all of her things here, all of her, kissing him, blessing him; he longed not to be greedy, not to ask too much of her too soon, but he thought again of paparazzi outside her house and his mind clouded with concern, resolving to ask her in the morning. He pulled on the sweatpants, wincing as the waistband brushed against his cock, then, he moved out towards the kitchen (he paused, eyes falling on her hair tossed over the pillow tenderly, her little hand clutched against her mouth) and into the dining room, to clean up the dishes.

[ezilyamuzed]

My Tangerine

Summary: Innocent back and forth between two hunters online turns into a little more. 

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Angst. Language. Mentions of blood. Decapitation. Drinking.

A/N: This was developed for @frejahertziswritingthistime 800 Follower writing challenge. The trope I picked was  ‘internet pen pals’. I apologize for any grammatical errors, but I am human. Thank you all for taking the time to read this. Any comments and feedback are greatly appreciated! Enjoy! 

It all started off simple enough, just a harmless back and forth conversation with an internet stranger, but it slowly turned into.. much more. About two months ago you were trolling the online group message boards, hoping a case would pop up. Most of them of course had no merit to them. Michael Jackson had not possessed their child. Idjits. You couldn’t help yourself as you were scrolling through while finishing off a bottle of Jack to call them out. To have fun with them if you will. Back and forth arguments about Steve Jobs haunting all Apple™ products kept you amused for the next hour. You were about to call it a night when you received a private message request

 IMPALA67: You seem to know a lot about ghosts.

You rolled your eyes at the screen. Of course you knew about ghosts, you had just took out one the other night. The dirt from the grave site was still stuck under your nails. You were just going to ignore it, but decided to see what this stranger wanted. Maybe they had a case for you to work and were just trying to find someone to help them

Tangerine23: I might know a thing or two.

Tangerine23: Why do you ask?

IMPALA67: I thought it was funny the way you were handling those conspiracy freaks. They don’t seem to know anything about what they are talking about.

Tangerine23: ….

Tangerine23: No. No they don’t. They watch too much Ghostfacers.

IMPALA67: LOL. Yeah, they are douches.              

Tangerine23: So do you just randomly stalk people’s online debates to find people to talk to or do you have a point to all of this?

IMPALA67: Just found you interesting. That’s all.

Tangerine23: If you are a weirdo web stalker that lives in your parent’s basement you really need to find a new hobby.

IMPALA67: I most definitely am not.

IMPALA67: Why were YOU picking arguments with those posers anyways? Maybe you are the weirdo web stalker living in your parent’s basement.

Tangerine23: Maybe I am…you will never know IMPALA67.

IMPALA67: A mystery huh? Okay, I’ll bite.

IMPALA67: So Tangerine, what do you know about ghosts?

The message lingered in front of you as you sat pondering what you should say. Normally you would lie your ass off to any civilian, they would just call you crazy anyways. Even worse have you committed. This was different though, this was an unknown person on the internet. You most likely would never talk to this person, let alone actually meet them. The fifth of whisky you had finished off and your presumptions of the circumstances led you to the simple conclusion. Fuck it.

Tangerine23: More than you will ever know. 

 IMPALA67: Try me.

Hours had past as the two of you traded stories of the encounters you both had endured. Providing each other with little tidbits on some of the more interesting ways you have had to relinquish a pissed off spirit. As the stranger disclosed to you some of the things that would definitely have placed them in the looney bin, you came to only one possible conclusion.

 Tangerine23: You’re a hunter aren’t you???

 IMPALA67: Well I’m sure not gearin after Bambi if that’s what you mean.

 Tangerine23: You know what I mean smartass. You hunt monsters.

IMPALA67: Monday-Friday, every other weekend. Well, depending on the case. I kind of already figured you were one by the way you were talking there.

Tangerine23: I’ve only known a couple of other hunters.

IMPALA67: Maybe you have met me then.

Tangerine23: Unless you are also dead, then no I haven’t.

IMPALA67: Yeah, that’s what comes with the territory unfortunately. Sorry to hear about your friends, I’ve lost a lot of good ones too myself.

 Tangerine23: Never said they were my friends…

 IMPALA67: Lone wolf then?

 Tangerine23: It’s how I work best.

 Tangerine23: Hunter’s tend to be sexiest asshole anyways.

  IMPALA67: …?

  IMPALA67: Wait, you’re a girl?

Tangerine23: Yeah dude. A girl. Got a problem with that?

IMPALA67: Nah, I’ve known quite a few girls that have kicked my ass once or twice. Just talking to you…it was like talking to one of the boys. Shootin the shit, ya know?

Tangerine23: So because I wasn’t all, “Like totally. OMG! Those shoes!” you just assumed.

IMPALA67: You’re a rare bread sweetheart.

Tangerine23: That I am. Not many of us girls getting the job done.

IMPALA67:  So why do you call yourself Tangerine23?

Tangerine23: Well 23 is just a number…

Tangerine23: The other part deals with a song. If you don’t know it, then I don’t think I can continue this conversation any further.

IMPALA67: Tangerine, Tangerine, living reflection from a dream I was her love, she was my queen, and now a thousand years between

IMPALA67: Who doesn’t love Zeppelin?

His comment made you laugh while a smile rose upon your face. No one ever gotten it before. Heck, if it didn’t have anything to do with Stairway to Heaven, most people gave you glossed over looks when you even talked about Led Zeppelin.

Tangerine23: I see you can web search lyrics real quick there.

IMPALA67: If you could only see my tape collection. It’s a good song.

Tangerine23: That it is. Let me guess Impala67 is the year and model of your car?

IMPALA67: That it is.

IMPALA67: My Baby.

Tangerine23: Eh, a ’70 Impala is better…

IMPALA67: YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH!

Tangerine23: LOL! Touchy about your car huh? Sorry but I’m a little biased on the models there. I have a ’70 Impala parked right outside that is MY BABY.

IMPALA67: Well I accept your apology, and appreciate your choice in models, but I will have to disagree on your year choice. Clearly you are insane.

Tangerine23: Whatever dude. You know we’ve been at this for like 5 hours now…the sun is rising here.

IMPALA67: Where would that be?

Tangerine23: Like I am going to tell you.

IMPALA67: Okay… so I guess you won’t tell me your name then?

Tangerine23: Correct-a-mundo. Give the man his prize…

IMPALA67: And what prize would that be sweetheart.

Tangerine23: Dude, no.

Tangerine23: But seriously, I need some type of sleep. I got a long drive coming up.

 IMPALA67: Yeah, me too. I got another case in the works.

 Tangerine23: Well good luck with it Impala man.

  IMPALA67: Can I talk to you again?

You sat back staring at the screen. It was nice to talk to someone about, well everything. Too often you lied so much about who you were, that you actually started to forget the truth yourself. An internet pen pal…why not? Someone you could just talk to on the road when you found yourself lonely on the road. Someone you could just be yourself with, without consequences.

Tangerine23: Yeah. Goodnight Impala man.

 IMPALA67: Goodnight Tangerine.

Your drive was going to take you at least a day if you didn’t waste time sleeping or eating. There was a vamp nest on the other side of the country that was catching a lot of attention from the media. Of course they had no clue what was going on. They chalked it up to unusual animal attacks, but after a while of hacking into the coroner’s report you had your proof that there was definitely a case.

By the time you reach hour 15 of your drive you couldn’t take it anymore. You needed a break from staring at the same yellow and white lines along the road go by. You decided to check into a dump off the highway to maybe get something to eat and an hour or two of shut eye.

When you finally fed your hunger, you decided to flop on your bed with your laptop to see if there were any new reports of attacks. You had only been on it a minute when you had the pop up notification on the bottom of your screen that IMPALA67 had sent you another message.

 IMPALA67: I’m dragging ass today. How about you? 

Tangerine23: I’m here, that’s as much as I can say.

  IMPALA67: So besides ganking monsters what do you do for fun?

That was the start of it. Your almost 6 hour conversation about everything and nothing at the same time. The two of you exchanging stories about your past hunts, the interesting people you’ve met, and what you did to pass the time by that was often lonely. It was easy to fall into since he understood what the life was like, for once it was like having a friend.

  IMPALA67: Do you ever wish for the apple pie life?

 Tangerine23: You mean the white picket fence, 2 ½ kids, and a dog life?

  IMPALA67: Yeah, normal.

 Tangerine23: I think I bypassed normal a long time ago.

Tangerine23: I don’t know, it’s just not really in the cards. I couldn’t really see myself settling down like that.  

IMPALA67: Yeah, me too.

IMPALA67: I don’t know, I guess it would just be nice to actually share somethings with. You know?

Tangerine23: Yeah, I get it. It’s a lonely life.

IMPALA67: Yeah. I’m lucky I have my brother, but it may be nice to have someone else around.

Tangerine23: …….

Tangerine23: You hinting at something there Impala man?

IMPALA67: No…

IMPALA67: I guess, yeah. Say you and I were to meet tomorrow, what do you think would happen?

Tangerine23: We wouldn’t know.

Tangerine23: Look, I have to catch some sleep now.

You shut your laptop quick to not look at what he could have possibly responded with. The pit of your stomach felt like butterflies were going a thousand miles a second. Meeting him…this stranger. The stranger you met on the internet that you felt so comfortable exposing your true self to. Were you crazy? This was how serial killers find their prey. Humans were the worst monsters of them all. They had too many emotions going on that they usually picked the one that was the strongest. Yours right now bordered on fear and what was that? Infatuation? It had been so long since you had felt like this before. The last time you felt like this it ended horribly. End of your steel blade, horribly. There was no way you would ever let that happen again. You would not let yourself fall down that rabbit hole.

After a couple of hours of sleep you found yourself back on the road once more, picking up speed along the way trimming some time off your journey. You found a crappy motel in town that would make due for your base camp. As long as there was Wi-Fi and a bed you were set.

You pulled out your laptop to check out anything that could be found about the town, local hang outs, abandoned houses, the kind of places that screamed nest. You noticed a lingering message icon on the bottom of your screen. It was probably him. You hesitated before clicking on it to read what he said.

IMPALA67: Sorry if I had freaked you out. I just think you are a pretty interesting person, if you don’t want to talk to me anymore it is fine, I get it. Take care of yourself Tangerine.

Ugh! How could this guy be so sweet and understanding? He was literally making you sick to your stomach now, mostly from the guilt that you just shut him out so quickly. This was just an internet friendship. Two hunters shooting the shit. What was the harm really in that?

You stared at his message for quite a while, contemplating your words. You didn’t want to lead him on, but the last couple of days felt so nice. Being able to talk to someone else. Someone who got it. Got you.

Tangerine23: No, it’s fine. I had just really needed sleep.

You went to go and grab a beer from the 6 pack you bought earlier when you heard the computer chime with another message. You sat yourself back into the dusty chair in front of the screen to read the message.

 IMPALA67: I get it. Hell I needed sleep too.

 IMPALA67: What kind of case are you working on?

Tangerine23: One that is driving me up the walls right now. I can’t find the link anywhere.

 IMPALA67: Care to share some details? Maybe I can help.

 Tangerine23: And have Mr. IMPALA swoop in on my case? No thanks.

 IMPALA67: Alright then. The cliff notes.

 Tangerine23: Something alive killing a whole bunch of people.

 IMPALA67: Well that really narrows it down lol.

Tangerine23: Small town with very little suspects.

IMPALA67: Small towns usually mean small town bars. Everyone knows everyone in them. That’s where I would probably start. If anything I’m sure you could use the drink during your investigation.

Tangerine23: You have no idea.

IMPALA67: I would try that first before running around crazy into abandoned buildings. You don’t know what you will walk into.

 IMPALA67: I know you will disagree with me, but having back up isn’t a crazy idea.

 Tangerine23: I’m good on my own. 

 IMPALA67: Just watching out for you.

 Tangerine23: …..

IMPALA67: I mean, I don’t really want to lose this fun pen pal I’ve met. Kind of stubborn, but easy to talk to. Lol

Tangerine23: I’ll be fine. Actually I am going to check out somethings now while I still have a couple of hours.

Tangerine23: Talk to you later.

IMPALA67: You better. Stay safe Tangerine.

You decided to drive around the town for a bit while checking out the locals. This town screamed the white picket fenced life. Hell there was a coffee shop with a huge advertisement for homemade pies that you knew IMPALA67 would love. As he entered your thoughts you tried to shake it off. Got to get your head in the game. A run down bar appeared in the distance as the sun was starting to set. You shrugged while thinking ‘what the hell’. Maybe it did have answers for you in there. It definitely had the beer you needed.

When you walked you there was only a couple of people sitting around the bar. They looked like they were permanent fixtures in this place. You found a stool near the end where your back could be against the wall so you could keep your eyes open for anything strange and suspicious walking in. The bar tender brought you your beer while you just sat back and waited.

About two hours had past when a group of very pale 80’s looking rockers all fumbled in together. Your instincts screamed vampires as they walked to a back corner booth. The son of a bitch was right. A tall brunette man with a leather jacket and torn jeans led them in. He was definitely the leader of the group. He was going to be the prize fight tonight.

You found yourself watching them carefully, noting their antics as they interacted with one another. Some of the others watched the other bar patrons walk in while showing the hunger in their eyes. They were going to find someone right here, tonight. Out of the corner of your eye you saw someone walking towards you. You reached into your jacket pocket slowly as they drew closer to you, feeling the handle of your machete that hid underneath.

 “Hey there sweetheart.”

You looked over at the deep voice, ready to attack. There stood a tall muscular man with the brightest damn green eyes you had ever seen. He gave you a half smile as he placed his hand on the stool next to you to sit himself down.

 “Get lost buddy,” you snapped.

He stepped back and put his hands up in defense. “Sorry there sweetheart. I just noticed you were sitting here all by yourself. I figured you would want the company.”

 “I’m spoken for buddy,” you lied.

He nodded his head and went to go sit down with a long haired guy who was holding back his laughter. Stupid men. Just then you saw that the vampire leader was starting to motion to the group that they were going to take off. You quickly fixed yourself up as you jumped down from the stool. Show time.

 “Oh, my…” you cried as you “tripped” into the leader. He had caught you and pulled you up to his gaze. “I’m so sorry sugar, I must have had a bit too much tonight. I guess I am a little clumsy.”

 “That’s alright there Darlin,” he replied with the smell of iron lingering in his breath and a malicious smile rising upon his lips. “We can get you home safe.”

 “Well that would be mighty kind of you mister,” you smiled your most innocent smile you could muster. Damn your acting skills were good.

He led you outside by placing his hand at the small of your back, slowly rubbing it back and forth. The others in the group all chattering amongst themselves while displaying devilish grins toward you. You were going to be their dinner, but little did they know they weren’t going to get the chance.

Walking around to the back of the building you slowed yourself a bit, pushing yourself back into the leader’s hand. Were they going to do it here? You turned to face him, as he was licking his lips hungrily. Your hand shot to the inside of your jacket to grab the hidden machete, but the strong force of his hand across your face made you stumble down, hitting your head hard on the ground. You tried to get up quickly, but your vision was foggy along with an intense ringing in your ears. Someone was on top of you now, trying to push their mouth down to your neck as you swung and pushed back with all the strength you could. There was muffled yelling in the distance that you couldn’t make out as you fought your attacker. You managed to push them up just quick enough to feel the hot splatter of his blood across your face. You pushed the headless body off of you while you sat up, rubbing the blood off from your face. Your vision cleared enough to see the guy who had hit on you in the bar with his long haired friend standing above you with machetes in hand. Hunters.

“You alright miss?” The long haired one asked while reaching for you hand to pull you up. You ignored it and pushed yourself to your feet, rubbing your dirty and bloodied hands on your jeans.

“Just peachy,” you replied.

“I’m Sam, this is Dean,” he stated while pointing over to the green eyed flirt behind him.

“Good for you,” you said while pushing yourself past him.

“You were attacked, those things were not human,” he started to say, but you quickly turned to him with a scowl.

“No shit Sherlock,” you sarcastically replied.

“Do you need a ride someplace?” Dean asked while watching you look around to where you parked.

“No, asshat, I got it,” you said while collecting your bearings. You walked away angrily at them, but it was really mostly at yourself. How stupid could you have been to let them get a one-up on you. That was almost bad. You had really cut it too close that time. If it hadn’t been for the two guys showing up, you would have been the main course. You got into your car and punched the steering wheel releasing your frustration on it.

“Son of a bitch.”

After taking a much need hot shower, you passed out in your hotel room until early afternoon the next day. Your stomach grumbled that you needed food, and coffee was going to be a necessity to get you through the rest of your day. The small coffee shop in town that advertised the pies sounded like the best choice. After ordering you sat down at a table towards the back that was hidden behind a low wall so you could go through the web to find your next case in peace.

Others were coming in and out as the hours passed, but you weren’t paying attention to them as you searched through the web for anything that looked suspicious. An incoming messaged popped up on the screen that made a smile form across your face.

 IMPALA67: How did the case go?

Tangerine23: Shitty, but it’s all taken care of now. How is yours going?

You heard a familiar ding almost as soon as you hit send, but it wasn’t coming from your screen. You shrugged it off awaiting his reply.

IMPALA67: It was a bit messy but it’s done. A civilian was stuck in the middle of all of it.

Tangerine23: That is always hard when civilians get stuck in the crossfire.

There was that damn ding again right after you hit send on the keyboard. You peaked your head over the wall a bit to see the same two guys from the night before sitting on the other side. The green eyed one typing on the computer in front of him.

IMPALA67: Yeah, she called me an asshat.

Your eyes widened as you read his reply. IMPALA67 was right there. The man you had been fighting feelings for was less than two feet away from you. A wall only dividing the truth. You watched him as he happily took a bite of apple pie while waiting for your response. This was it, you could fall down the rabbit hole or run away.

Tangerine23: Enjoying your apple pie?

You quickly and quietly packed up your stuff to sneak out the back, away from his sight as the nervousness hit you while tapping the send button. What had you done? You didn’t even stick around to see him staring at his screen in confusion while also looking around the shop to see if any one there could be you.

As you walked out you saw it, the sleek black ’67 Chevy Impala. You ran your fingers over her hood while appreciating her beauty. She was gorgeous. You leaned up against her and pulled out your phone to get to the messenger app, Sam and Dean walking out at the same time. Dean had a look of furry on his face that someone was on his baby as he stomped over but you just held up one finger while typing, stopping him in his tracks. You then held out your phone’s screen for him to read. He furrowed his eyebrows while leaning down his face to read it, the shock rising up in his face as he reread what it said.

Tangerine23: Hello IMPALA67.

He looked up with a shine in his green eyes. A smile growing so wide that every line in his face became deeper in pure happiness.

               “My Tangerine.”

[whatscoolaccordingtodom]

July 2018

As winter nyasto settles into the Southern Hemisphere, I can’t help but think that maybe we’re doing something wrong and whoever has been in charge of the weather these past few years is mad. Our ancestors wore nothing but a bit of hide over their groins 365 days a year, my great-great grandfather never slept inside anything his whole life. They say on particularly cold nights, his family would come down from the hills to sleep around his fire, where he would sit there playing his mbira into the wee hours.

Umphako floated down to us on the 6thof July and I’ve been Mascandi through the streets ever since. The 4 track EP sees most of the songs go in different directions, but still make sense on the overall project. “Abangani” features label mates Emtee and Saudi, it’s definitely in the running for Squad Song of the Year. The “Confession” sample sounds like it was taken from an old hip-hop song, maybe a 50 Cent track and; the vocals though beautiful as they may be are overshadowed by the lyrics. I’m sure a few Zulu boys are convinced though. “Intombi” -also about a girl- talksis about all the lies she hears from interested suiters. The remaining is the hustle track, even the production is more upbeat than we’re used to from him. 2018 has been good to Sjava too, he came out from under the shadow of his labelmate and established himself as a serious contender with the Black Panther nod, BET award, and oh so Afrikan press run; this EP serves to show he’s still the guy who gave us favourites like “Before”. At least for now...

Strings and Blings is one half songs that can be bangers and the other is half is talking RnB. Nasty C’s on and off long-time girlfriend is kind of like the centerpiececentre piece, often finding herself being spoken to, of, from, about, and with; but he uses inconsistent angles. (Also, S/O to the girl who always sings on his songs but never gets credited). “No Respect” is my favourite offering on the project by far, it sounds like it was getting good, like he was about to rip at niggers, he’s about to start going in at the 1-minute mark then the just stops.; Tthe track ends 25 seconds later preventing what probably would’ve been a PR nightmare for him. “Jiggy Jigga”, “Givenchy”, “Strings and Bling” and “Gravy” are all easy plays in the club. We would like to thank Nasty for saying a Zulu word on “Blisters”. The whole album plays very well except for “My Baby”, that song is terribly cheesy; it sounds like every song by a boy band with a potty mouth lead singer. “SMA” is a standout from the other side, the dialogue verse’s add a layer to the rapper and Rowlene is just perfect. “Mrs Me” and “Everything” are the other emotionally heavy songs. “Casanova” cements just how much Nasty loves Metro Boomin and is perhaps the one track that doesn’t really fit into the 2 sides of album, it sounds emotional, but the lyrics really just aren’t.

A welcome addition to my favourite rappers in South Africa is Zakwe, he’s been around for a while but Cebisa is the first project by him I’ve listened to and honestly, it carries itself even without Sebentin. In true South African fashion, the remix is a who’s who of our rap elite but it’s all overshadowed by the obvious trade of bars by HHP and Cassper., Cass just seems to rub some people the wrong way, poor guy. At 20 songs, averaging well over 3 minutes each. The album is a long play but it’s well worth the listen, with a plethora of features to keep you entertained it plays like a Zakwe and friends playlist. The man himself has honed his sound, this nonchalant cross between hip-hop and kwaito is best described by the albums stand out line “Pac was Jesus, Zola wrote the Bible”. He isn’t stuck in old hip hop either, trap beats found themselves nestled in the playlist too.    

Future gave us Beast Mode 2 and I am satiated, but Atlanta spoils us (I have a theory about how it had a direct influence on how music is frequently now released), they understand that the streets need new music often. Jeffery needs to give us something more now since Hear No Evil was a while ago and it was 3 songs long. Future seems to be the only one of late who can get Young Thug into the studio too., Tthey did release Georgia, but a Thug feature was not on the cards for BM2 which really only has 2 features, both young artists who were given a wide berth to shine. People who say Future isn’t a lyricist need to take time out to listen to the first Beast Mode. On these albums over Zaytovens most almost gospel like production, he addresses a wide range of issues from his self-medicating drug problem, he checks himself trying to hold onto some sense of reality I think, but he makes it so that you have to listen to know what he’s saying. Being a workaholic -the man releases projects at an alarming rate- and the excess that seems to come with the life of having your “Racks Blue”, he talks about his anxieties both external and psychological. BM2 is the classic mix of Futures braggadocio and insecurities. It plays like one long thing the first time, but if you take the time to listen to what he’s saying you might realise why his spot amongst those at the top of rap is a non-debatable topic.

Unjayam uSliqe… this calling card annoyed me when I first heard it, but it’s kinda grown on me since then. I know I’m about to hear a hit when it plays. His sophomore album is a shining example of how hip-hop albums by DJ’s have evolved into their own league. Jam packed with features, feel good songs, and amazing production from the man himself, I don’t know if he just makes the beats and let’s people do their own thing or if he composes and directs each song, maybe he does a bit of both. The formula works, Navy Black is like a calm afternoon with your friends, most of the songs share a skeleton, so the vibe is carried well. “Biskop” is a fitting way to begin the album, it’s an ode to how the journey Sliqe, Kwesta and Makwa has transformed the artists’ lives since they started hustling, when is a Kwesta verse not welcome? Chiano Sky is the new naughty white girl, “Aunty” was nice, but “Girls Jungle” is a lot; the sample is so perfect and her lyrics are irreverent. Sy Ari saw Black Panther 5 times, I was going to discuss this but then I found out he’s American; him and AKA really came through for “Oh Well” though, Supa Mega talks like the big brother all young rappers have always wanted. I’m kind of torn between “Fully” (because we get to say FULLY a bunch of times), and “Town Talk”, it’s cool to see Wrecking Crew members make hits without their big gun. “Backyard” is the vibe of the album, and who better to call for a feature than Mr Hennessy, Tshego can sound like him featuring him with the different pitches he can sing at; it’s smooth and never overly emotional?

Gigi Lamayne, in her short time has built an enviable career finding her place in the league of our small handful of rappers. “VI” is a 6 track EP, her first since signing with Ambitious and it was built kind of like this version Maslow'sMaslows pyramid.; Tthe top is tiny and signifies the worst song as we descend into the album the sections get thicker until the bottom where we find “VI” waiting for us. The tape gets much better immediately with “Iphupho”, this song see’s the artist sing her truths about living in this concrete jungle while demanding to cash in on her dreams. “Roll” is dirtier, real trap shit reminiscent of “Beez in The Trap”. “Stimela” is fun, Gigi even gets in some good raps and punchlinespunch lines, a highlight being “I’m Gautrain, you Shosholoza”. “VI” is really easy listening, with a light sprinkling of zulu lines, the beats are catchy but maybe none more so than “Twinkle”; “Londie London” croons the memorable chorus and Gigi offers her most solid verses on the project. Until you hear the title track, she does the correct thing on the outro; no chorus, shit she barely lets it breathe until the last minute.

Ice Prince is an established name in Afrikan hip-hop and his confidence oozes out of his songs too. A few of them seem to be more about weed than anything else in particular and I’m okay with that. The albums opening track is a bass heavy banger, with the help of Jethro Faded, Ice-Prince “Shuts it Down”, which might be a weird way to start an album. Remy Baggins comes through for “Space Funk”, a Bruno Mars-y chorus with solid verses by Ice. “Hit Me Up” is the albums single, a typical South African trap track, PatricKxxLee & Straffitti help bring the head nods out. “‘Interlude”’ is his way of letting us know that this is the emotional track of the album and “Die For Your Love” does not disappoint, mans really promises to die for her love; but doesn’t miss the opportunity to mention weed again. I think I noticed all the weed references because of how frequently and prominently most of them are placed. “254” has one right in the chorus, but the verses are some of the most enjoyable on the whole album; they play like one long story. The uncredited singing bit at the end of “254″ is really nice, if that is Ice then kudos to him. “So High”, seriously, has Ice Prince always been this proud about his stoner ways? Anyways, “So High” is an anthem dedicated to just how high Ice Prince and Kay Switch get. By the sounds of it they use regular rizla and not Raw like Nasty C and Snoop Dogg, I might suggest switching to unbleached rizla if he really does smoke from Niger to Ghana. I mean, it’s an obvious metaphor for other kinds of highs too, success, girls, etc, but with the sound effects and lines like “puff puff pass, real nigger smoking that gas” the weed references might be all we get. “Watching You” is a simpler, way more vibey track where Ice Prince gets back onto his singing shit, helping keep the song as smooth as possible. The album closer is arguably the best, the production is really enjoyable, and he made sure to use easy to remember lyrics.

In The Faculty NEWS; on August 2, Human Error turned 19 and Tinayeishe Elisha Makoni better known by his stage name S.K.eye released his debut solo tape titled “Pseudology”. Please listen to it on Soundcloud @ https://soundcloud.com/tinayemakoni/sets/pseudology

Couldn’t leave without acknowledging Stay Dangerous and Astroworld, but that’s for later.

Beyonce and her husband are coming on the 2nd of December, but you have to earn a ticket. The only other ticket you work this hard to get in life is the one to Heaven, if you’re into that type of thing.

Edited by @NyraBlac

[theaveragekenyan]

Eyes of a Stranger...

Especially in the workplace or on television you will soon notice that when discussing something important, Kenyan people like to make verbal lists.

These verbal lists occur in response to a question, for instance, during a conference, a quick meeting at work, a brainstorm, or in the case of television, a debate. Queue the spotlight to be turned, colleagues to shuffle their phones and throats to be cleared, this is that persons big moment.

So, the person will start off their answer with a completely irrelevant and tedious introduction stating their full name...“My given names are….” date of employment... “I’ve been working for....” their full day to day job description and duties... “What I do is....” and the obligatory reference to God “We give thanks to God for…..” 

Once the insignificance is over, the person will then move onto answering the actual question. This will involve repeating the question and then answering in a listed style, e.g “The reason we have so much Poverty in Kenya is because…Number 1….” and thus begins  the persons answer, an answer that will go on and on and on and on and on and on zzzzzzzzzz.

This initial answer will cover everything the person has ever known about anything loosely connected to the question. The person will continue to waffle so much they will lose track of the question and also forget that they set about answering the question with a numbered list. It is extremely rare the audience will ever get to hear point number 2.

If ever they do get to point “number 2….” I guarantee the next words they will say are “oh, hang on, I forgot to mention….” and we’re back to point number fucking one again…which will go on and on again until they start to bore themselves, at which point the answer will be wrapped up with an assured “so that’s all I have to say about that…thank you” cue enthusiastic applause and the fact that, in other parts of the world 30 minutes was spent doing something actually valuable. I dread to imagine if the person had the content to fill 5 points, I can only recommend blocking out 2 days for the meeting.

Of course, It’s possible to assume “Number 1” is the Number 1 and most important point and that the rest of the list is considered irrelevant. Another option, and this is the theory I find most likely, is that they heard somebody else say “number 1” and thought they’d copy.

Personally, I find there’s very little to copy in Nairobi. As you drive around the City, there’s very little to be inspired by. Don’t get me wrong, Nairobi is a vibrant and fascinating place to live, but the appeal doesn’t stem from architecture, design, originality or even surprisingly, a rich cultural identity. There’s very little of interest in Nairobi, compared to millions of other far less important places in the world. There are no beautiful bridges spanning a river, there isn’t a beautifully manicured park, there isn’t an area of outstanding design. Obviously the most beautiful sources of design and architecture all originate from nature. The people, the trees, the mountains, the flowers, the birds, the animals etc etc. Essentially very little man-made wonders exist, in fact I’d say none, which is sad considering the how long the city has existed for and in comparison to many other cities and towns around the world.

Sure, there are tons of ideas out there, but unfortunately Kenyan Governments have never sought to change societies outlook on such simple pleasures. I imagine any creative idea falls down flat at the corruption hurdle.  

In terms of identity, all of the other major Kenyan Towns and Cities all look the same. Nakuru, Naivasha, Eldoret, Kisumu, Kisii, Machakos, Wote, Nanyuki, Meru etc are all almost identical. Sure, the countryside and people have big variety, but the places themselves, on the whole, look exactly the same. Mombasa does look different in design, as it draws deeply from the Muslim culture, but the city itself is a huge disappointment and such a letdown for the huge potential it has.  

So, with very little to see it’s hardly surprising that the average Kenyan loves to stare at other people.

When I walk around, I look at the nature, the sky and of course mainly where I’m going, but when I do look around, what I see, is people staring at me.

As we move into the year of vision, 2020, the average Kenyan still loves to stare at white people, or maybe it’s just me.

I know to Kenyans, all Crackers look and sound the same…I think the worst comparison for me has been Wayne Rooney, but in all honesty, we’re not too far removed if you’ve drank 8 pints of Gin and have been dreaming of launderettes.

I do get stared at a lot though, really...certainly enough to get angry about it, definitely enough to have the nuclear option of “fuck you looking at?” in my locker. I really have to work hard at keeping that option for extreme measures only and I do keep it just for emergencies by understanding most Kenyans stare out of pure interest, curiosity, and in most cases, affection.

I have written before here that I enjoy to jog. This makes me an easy target for “starers”, pure game. How it plays out is like this; I’ll be running toward a group of people, they’ll be chatting away happily, but then as I come closer into their space, their chatting descends into complete silence and their stares begin. Then, only once I’ve passed, will their volume return to original levels and is often accompanied by great laughter and whoops of joy, and all because I ran past them.

I also enjoy walking in Nairobi, and when confronted with a “starer” the scene usually plays out in a similar direction, but with with more pathological pleasure for the “starer”

The “starer” will click their first “Initial Stare”, on average, the “Initial Stare” consumes around 4 seconds of me and I’m aware of it through my peripheral sight, ESP and darting snapshots back and forth of them. I ignore the “Initial Stare”

Then, the “Secondary Stare” takes focus. This stare is longer and extracts more of me, it can last anything up to 6 seconds, or at least until I break it by looking back into their eyes, thus causing an eye seizure in the “starer”. Moving on from the  “Secondary Stare”, we now develop into eye to eye warfare as we walk closer toward each other.

These can be quick, sharp retaliatory stares fired between as we cross each other’s pass, but this depends how interested the “starer” is.

Then, as soon as we’ve passed, without warning, in comes the “After Stare”.

The “After Stare” is for pure greed and sycophantic lust.

I now glance back, and this is when I start to defend myself by increasing my stare onto them, I call this the “Angry Goose Stare”.

Now, and for the very first time, the “starer” has something to genuinely stare at, however they are also properly confused and intimidated by the situation, “Why is this freaky looking white man staring at me…and why is he looking like an angry Goose?”

My retaliatory “Angry Goose Stare” works immediately and they cease their stare. However now, they’re thinking “Eh, what’s this silly Muzungu doing?”. So, they come back for more in the shape of the “Befuddled Stare”. 

The only way to disarm this confrontation and to stop myself going nuclear by shouting “fuck you looking at?” is to wind my head in, turn my frown upside down and smile like a Thai Tourist and say “Hiiiiiyer….yer alright duck?” in my friendliest Leicestershire accent. Immediately the “starer” is faced with a warm, welcoming, if a little disturbing, Muzungu and they then revert to their default setting of ‘Lovely Kenyan person’. I’m not sure if my methods are a solution to stopping staring, but it is certainly entertaining and provides a bit of light relief to the dull intensity of the surroundings.

In Nairobi, particularly in the CBD, smoking cigarettes is banned. If you want to spark up, the safest place to not get arrested is to smoke in one of the “Smoking Shacks”. I say, shack, because that’s the best way to describe them. The shack is a basic structure, I’d say the design was heavily influenced by the Vietnamese Torture Cages, perhaps the contractor saw ‘Rambo’ and thought what a great theme that would be for Nairobi’s smokers. I’ve never smoked in one and never would, they do have a great effect on stopping.

With this in mind, I feel the Government of Kenya should introduce “Staring Shacks”

These shacks would then become the focal point in Nairobi for unashamed “starers” to gather and practice their hobby with other like-minded individuals in a safe and designated area.

“Nairobi Starers” woud become the Facebook Group which would list where “Staring Shacks” could be found and where special meetings or events are happening. Perhaps there could be special meetings i.e “Muzungu Monday” “Wahindi Wednesday” “Freaky Friday” anything really, all fetishes would be welcomed.

I feel the shacks would add a new dimension to the staring scene and allow the hobby to become a little more like Train-spotting. It would instantly create a new culture within Nairobi and instead of “Culture Walks”, I’d suggest “Staring Walks”. Enthusiasts could walk from shack to shack and be with like-minded people in a non-judgemental environment, safe staring for the modern Nairobian.

EXT – ‘STARING SHACK’ 10 AM

WOMAN ENTERS “STARING SHACK” AND SITS DOWN NEXT TO HER FRIEND.

Agnes -                                    Sasa.

Brenda -                                  Poa.

Agnes -                                    Seen anything good yet?

Brenda -                                  Nah…pretty quiet so far.

Agnes -                                    I stared at a Muzungu on the way here.

Brenda-                                   Oh yeah?

Agnes -                                    Yeah, fairly standard really.

Brenda -                                  Was there any odd face?

Agnes -                                    Odd face? No, why?

Brenda -                                  Nothing really, just the last Muzungu I stared at,    looked like an angry Goose.

Agnes -                                    Wow, sounds strange…get a photo?

Brenda -                                  No…he smiled in the end, he was ok.

Agnes                                      I did have a good stare at a Kenyan man pushing a baby buggy.

Brenda -                                  No way….??

Agnes -                                    Straight up!

Brenda -                                  Where?

Agnes -                                    Lavington.

Brenda -                                  Obviously, bloody show off. Get a picture?

Agnes -                                    Yeah, did actually, let me find it – SHOWS PHOTOGRAPH

Brenda -                                  Oh yeah….that’s nice…good one.

Agnes -                                    Yeah, I’ll upload it to the Facebook group.

Brenda -                                  Did you see the photo I uploaded of the Indian Man and the Kenyan Lady?

Agnes -                                    What? I must have missed that, when was that?

Brenda -                                  About two weeks ago. I was in town and I was walking around the corner of Biashara Street and Moi Avenue, know where I mean?

Agnes -                                    No

Brenda -                                  Anyway, as I came around the corner I spotted them, large as life…. holding hands they were as well

Agnes -                                    What?

Brenda -                                  Totally…so I crossed over so I could, you know, get a few proper stares in like.

Agnes -                                    Amazing.

Brenda -                                  Then I carried on walking towards them…standard stare procedure really…so I pretended to be on my phone and that’s when I got this…SHOWS PHOTOGRAPH

Agnes -                                    Wooooah, Indian Man and a Kenyan women, insane…during the day as well…that is rare.

Brenda -                                  Yeah well happy with that photo.

Agnes -                                    So what happened then?

Brenda -                                  Well, they walked past, so I went in for the ‘after-stare’…You know… standard.

Agnes -                                    nice.

Brenda -                                  Yeah it was until the Indian man looks back around at me and says “Fuck you looking at?”

Agnes -                                    No way

Brenda -                                  Way.

Agnes                                      What did you say?

Brenda -                                  Nothing, I just carried on walking like nothing had happened.

THE END

Something for the illustrious Kenyan Nation to stare at and be genuinely proud about is long overdue.

And to be picky, I’m very sorry but, a long and wide ass road built by a foreign country, a Kenyan in Running Shoes or a Train track devastating wildlife doesn’t count. I’m talking about a safe and entertaining City Centre, a rejuvenated recreational Uhuru Park, a state of the Art Museum / Gallery that type of thing. Something original, uniquely Kenyan and not copied. Ah ok, sounds like my “Staring Shacks” will be up and running before any of that happens.

[black-lagoon-rokuro]

Less than human 7 part A

7 part A ----- Listen to this to make everything smoother. Repeat it if it ends before you reach the end. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=xMaZalLP1uQ If the link doesn't work, search "lullaby" - Tale of Two Sisters. ------ Hospitals always scared me. Ever since I was a little kid. I never had a real reason other than the scary movies I'd watch. But I think everyone is afraid of them in some way. Although that fear doesn't always make sense. Now I believe I have a real reason. Everything was either white or blue. If it was my eyesight or the actual room, I couldn't tell. We were alone in the hospital room. This isn't what I imagined this would be like at all. Ai was breathing heavily while squeezing my hand. Nurses came in and out of the room. They got Ai in a hospital gown and gave her an epidural. I doubt it did much. "It hurts too bad." She was on the verge of tears. "It's okay. Calm down, it'll be over soon." "ITS BEEN GOING ON FOREVER!!!" A nurse came in and started asking questions. We never went to any checkups, so that's probably why. I always tried to convince her to go, but each time I did she would make it out like i was trying to make her get an abortion. The only way we knew it was a boy was because she talked to her friend that's in nursing. "Alright. Just relax. The doctor is on his way." All I could do was focus on the details of Ai's face. She was somehow red and pale at the same time. Sweat glossed her skin. Her brown hair was sticking to the sides of her face. God, she looks awful. I wanted to say something. Anything. But there wasn't anything that would make her feel better. Finally, the doctor came in and started working. It seemed like time could play tricks suddenly. Seconds stretched onto minutes. Minutes turned into half an hour. Slowly but surely, she was progressing. Everything was going by so slowly, I thought I'd die in that hospital room before he was born. Ai kept squeezing my hand to the point where I could barely feel it. "Almost there." She grabbed onto me as tightly as she could. One last scream, then... There he was. That's when I saw little Toshio for the first time. He was so small... He wasn't crying, moving, or even breathing. His face had a blue tint to it. My son looked like a doll. Immediately they took him out of the room to do some testing. All I could do was stare at the door they failed to shut behind them. Ai sat up and looked at me. We were completely alone. All the energy left with the baby. Empty. That's all I could feel. Emptiness. Even with Ai there. I felt lonely. "What does he look like?" She breathily said. I didn't know what to tell her. I shook my head, remembering the look on his face. "Rokuro?" "He's so small." I told her. She crossed her arms. "What's that supposed to mean? Of course he's small, he's a baby." "No. He's really small." She looked at me confused. "He wasn't moving a-and I don't think he's breathing." I said. Ai suddenly became alert. She was in so much shock that she said more than words ever could. Nothing. The doctor came in moments later. Before he could say anything, she asks "Is he dead?" He shakes his head. "No, but he's extremely underweight. Also his lungs aren't fully developed a-" "So he won't make it?" Ai asked rudely. "There is a probability." He said rather harshly. "He needs to stay here for at least a few days so we can figure out the complications." He tried to sound polite, but something told me he was tired and just wanted to go home. How could someone be like that? Especially at times like this. "You mean that my son is going to stay here while I go back home and pretend like nothing happened?!" I put my hand on her shoulder. She quickly brushed it off. "You don't have to go home. I'll leave you be." He left the room without another word. Only 2 days later, he came home. The doctor said we needed to be extremely careful with him. Ai was more upset than anything. She was upset about the fact she 'wasted time carrying him.' ...until she held him. She looked at him and all the guilt rose up to the surface. He only weighed 1.3 kilograms (3 pounds 4 ounces). He was so small. She held him closer to her body. Toshio was constantly crying. His voice was so fragile and weak that it sounded kind of like an old, worn out music box. I could barely hear him. I knew it was because of the meth. Surprisingly, they didn't seem to notice. Personally, I blame the doctor. He obviously just wanted to retire soon. He didn't care, he just wanted the money. And I'm sure that getting the police involved will make things complicated. We went home. Nothing felt the same. Little Toshio changed everything for us. In a good way, I think. Ai said that she was tired because of the epidural. Although that excuse didn't make much sense since that was days ago, I just let her sleep. It gave me time alone with my son. Days passed by. I constantly had to check on Toshio. When I was with him, I felt better. All that time getting beat on was worth it. Now I understood the little things my mom used to do. Like trying to get involved with everything I did in school and so on. Although that was years away, I knew I was going to be like that. Having to go to work for a few hours already made me feel guilty. Ai's sister came around a lot more. Apparently her and Ai weren't mad at each other anymore. Sadako mainly talked to me about things that didn't matter. For example, she got a lot of things in her mother's will but Ai got nothing. Ai didn't know about that. I wasn't going to bring it up. Sadako was very helpful towards us. Without her, I think Ai would've been hitting him by now. I didn't mind her. Sadako flirted with me on and off though... My only concern was if Ai would walk in and think something was going on. That didn't matter. I was going to leave her soon. Right? How do I start this? I should just go. Pack everything while she's sleeping and just go for it. She's not stupid. She would notice that then probably beat me. Ai hasn't been giving Toshio enough attention in my book. It's almost like her sister is the mother. All Ai does is usually done after Sadako brings it up. Ai was taking a shower now. That woman can take the longest showers known to mankind. I held Toshio, who was crying like always. Sadako was sitting on the arm of my chair, staring down at him. Toshio was settling down. He was tired. His aunt on the other hand was scaring me. Please don't touch me. What if Ai walked in the moment you tried something? She'd say I was trying to fuck you. "Um... Rokuro?" Sadako said my name like she was scared to say it. "Sorry if this is rude, but how did you get that around your neck?" She was referring to a mark left there by Ai. A huge ring around my neck to show her frustrations. I didn't know how to answer that. "I guess I wear my ties too tight." That was a stupid excuse. She looked at my wrists. "What about those?" Sadako actually looked concerned... I never had to make excuses like this before. No one ever asked. "I can't remember." She held onto my arm. I pulled back in a way that was firm but not rude. "I heard you were into music." Trying to get off the subject made me less nervous. But I could tell she was going to bring it up again. "Yeah." I answered somewhat shyly. It's been so long since anyone's asked me about myself. "Maybe you should sing to him. It might calm him down." She smiled sweetly. "Y-yeah. That's a good idea." I looked at Toshio. His eyes half way closed, his face red and his tiny hand wrapped around my finger. There's nothing I can think to sing. He looked so tired. Toshio okajima... He was still lightly crying, but it was so frail and weak. I held him closer. His skin was soft. I sang in one of the other languages I knew, Korean. Sadako smiled. "My child does not smile. My child does not come to me. My child cannot recognize. Someday I will meet you again in the next world, embracing you in my arms." He squeezes onto my finger as tight as he could. To me, that meant 'keep going'. "This song I sang to you, will you remember it? I will sing this song to you, can you please fall asleep?" I couldn't tell if he was sleeping or not. I had to remember the rest of the lyrics.. "My love does not dream. My love does not her close eyes. My love cannot find the way to me." Right as I sang that last lyric, Ai came in. How ironic. "You're a great singer." Sadako said. Before I could say thank you, Toshio started coughing. Ai hurriedly grabbed him from me. His face was completely red. He stopped after a moment. "I'll take him to bed." She said then did so. Sadako looked at me with an expression I couldn't read. It was a mix between concern and happiness. "So you know Korean?" She asks. "Only a little bit. I'm more fluent in English. Haha." Ai came back out and rolled her eyes. "Quit flirting." She said. I just lit a cigarette. I didn't care enough right now to worry about it too much. "I'm not." Sadako replied defensively. Ai sat down on the couch. She crossed her arms like she was debating rather or not to do something. "...so... You're parents now." Sadako says. "Yeah?" Ai wasn't looking at her sister. Instead she had her eyes locked on my throat. I couldn't tell if she felt guilty or if she wanted to choke me. "Do you really think that will work out?" Sadako had such a serious look on her face. Almost like she was getting ready to fight. (You can pause the song now.) "What's that supposed to mean?" Ai sat up defensively. Oh god. I got mentally prepared to stop them if they get in a fight again. "You think you can control yourself? You already hurt your son. Not to mention your boyfriend is over here with bruises all over his neck." Oh Jesus. Ai stood up. "How the hell did I hurt my son?" Her arms were still crossed. She didn't look very threatening in her robe though. "Are you kidding? He's half the weight he should be, his lungs are screwed up and you're not doing anything. The only time you try is when you hear me complain about you." Sadako grabbed Ai by her pink robe and stared her right in the face. "Don't you dare tell me you didn't do something while you were pregnant." Ai pushed her sister off. "Rokuro always tries to take him from me." She quickly stopped Ai from leaving the room. "He probably figured out that you won't do shit." "You don't know me, bitch." Sadako just smirked at this. "Oh really? I know that you beat up your boyfriend and you think it's smart to buy drugs when you have a baby. That's right, I found them." Ai took a step back. I knew the first punch was coming. "I feel sorry for Rokuro, he somehow fell in love with you. A lying, drug addicted whore." Ai punched her sister in the jaw. Sadako grabbed her hair. That's when I put out my cigarette. "Okay. I've had enough." They both just looked at me. "Yeah Ai needs to get better, but you both need to calm the fuck down." Rolling her eyes, Ai sat back down. "I bet Toshio woke up after all this." Sadako let go and went back to check on him. Ai stared at me with a tired look. Over the days, she's gotten bags under her eyes. She's gotten paler. I didn't notice until just this second. "Why are you such a man whore?" She asks. "I'm not." I answered confidently. "OH MY GOD!!" A scream came from the bedroom. A sudden wave of anxiety washed over me. Ai and I looked at eachother. Sadako came running in the room with Toshio in her hands. I can't ever forget what he looked like, even though I've tried so many times. Blue skin. Mouth slightly opened. Eyes closed. Not moving at all. "Ai, call the police!" I tried not to yell as I took him in my arms. Toshio... He's so small. I put my hand on his chest to check for a heartbeat. Nothing. Everything in my body was shocked. This isn't happening. It can't be. No. Please. Anything but this. I'd take any of Ai's insanity just to keep him here. Please. If there's a God out there, please don't take him from me. He's all I have to live for. Take me instead. Let him live. Please. As they pulled him into the ambulance truck, I remembered the rest of the lyrics to the song. "Someday I will meet you again in the next world, embracing you in my arms. Someday, when I meet you for the first time... With a weary smile, I will hold both of your hands." No... He can't just die like this. Please. Don't take him away from me. Anything but this.

[tres-hermanos-de-gatos]

April 5, 2017

Goodness, it’s been a long time since I’ve written anything. It’s been a crazy few months and it doesn’t look like it will be letting up any time soon.

Here’s a “quick” synopsis of the crazy:

Vet appointment - that’s right, all three kitties got to go to the vet. To make it easier (more so, to get it over with), I take all three at one time. It takes about an hour and a half, but they all get checked and vaccinated. This time, though, we found out that they all need dental cleanings. My cat has a genetic disorder that causes his body to reabsorb his teeth - apparently, it’s a pretty common thing, but he’s got a bad case of it. So, he’s first to go.

His appointment is actually today - he’s there now, napping while they clean his teeth and extract ~5... poor boy. I’m sure it will be soft food for him for the next week (hurk, hurk, hurk). Oh well, all I want is for him to be happy and healthy. If that means wet cat food for a while, so be it.

Potential job for me - A few weeks ago, I got an email from a small company here looking for a CEO’s Admin. They’re an IT company and this is a new role that they’re created. It sounded pretty interesting, minus the fact that I was told that “some of the stakeholders have very... direct personalities.” To me, that’s code for “They’re dicks, but you better be able to deal with it.” Another minus was that I would “have to convince the CEO that this was something he needed.” Uhhh, isn’t the CEO supposed to ask for an admin? No, the COO wants one and is convinced that the CEO needs one too, so the role would report to the COO, but support the CEO, COO, 4 sales VPs, and the new board of directors (4 members) - that’s a lot of demand for one person. Plus, with only offering $60,000 in salary, I’m not sure that it would be worth it.

I had an informal interview with the HR person (who seemed to not know what to ask about anything. Vague questions like “how would you prioritize three requests given to you by different people” are hard to answer. Make up something - fake tasks for random people and let me prioritize those. Ugh.

I got a call at the end of last week and she said that they were pursuing other candidates. Oh well, after being on the fence about it, I’m happy that they made the decision for me.

About the same time, the admin I work closely with (call her NJ) and I figured out that the “vacation” one of the other admins went on was really a “she quit” type of deal. It was the same admin job I had originally applied for a year or so ago and gotten turned down for (even though I was told she wasn’t the best candidate)... hate to say that they should have picked me but, it sure looks that way! Anyways, she’s been gone for about three weeks now and still no one has said anything. I’ve found out through some sources what happened and all I can say is, it doesn’t surprise me. She’d been super stressed lately and making some poor choices. While they’ve posted the admin job, I get the feeling that they don’t want any other admins applying for it. I think I’ve overheard some interviews being scheduled with NJ. I’ve heard a few things like “well, she looks good on paper...”

I have to say, I am disappointed. I mean, I guess it’s unrealistic to expect that they would ask me to apply, but they did for this job so there was hope... but at the same time, I don’t know that I want to work here much longer. Well, I don’t want to work much longer - where isn’t the problem.

While all this was going on, my husband got an email from an HR Recruiter for Roche regarding an injection modeling engineer. He’s pretty stoked about it because it’s what he used to do and, if he got the job, it would cut his commute time down by ~40 minutes one way. He submitted his resume and now we are just waiting to hear back. Fingers crossed!!

We finally got time on the calendar to meet with our financial adviser. I’m super embarrassed that we went to the meeting with credit card debt (I’d been trying to put it off until we had our flooring paid off, which doesn’t seem to be going like it should for what we make and everything I pay for, but I digress...). Even with all the debt we have, if we change nothing that we are doing as far as savings goes, we will be able to pay for stuff until we are 75. Not too bad for two late-20 year olds who have a mountain of student loan debt.

I wish I could say that this meeting brought me some relief from my stressing about money, but it really only made it worse.

Speaking of money, my husband thinks that he gave himself a hernia. Great. That means hernia surgery, which, with our insurance, will still come out to be ~$6,000 out of pocket. Good thing I didn’t just drop $800 for vet bills, with another ~$1200 coming today for dental extractions.

We didn’t want to never have credit card debt, right?

Wedding weekend - One of my husband’s cousins got married this past weekend. So, of course, we made the drive out to Chicago for it. It was okay, but made us really appreciate the choices we made for our wedding - short ceremony (20 minutes, in and out), plated dinner, large space, good food, ceremony and reception in one place... we really focused on the guests and it being a party rather than a wedding. Anyways, other than that, we had the typical pick up his mom, take her everywhere, never leave her side to make sure that she doesn’t run out of oxygen... plus, his sister was in the wedding, so she left her fiance with the four children. I ended up holding the baby for a while ... meanwhile everyone who walked passed asked questions like he was mine (a reasonable assumption - younger, chubby woman holding a newborn = new mom). The questions allowed his mother to respond “This is *insert sister-in-law’s name here* newborn. I’m waiting on these two *gestures to me and my husband* to have one, but they aren’t doing anything!!!” I finally got frustrated enough that I said “I have bills to pay! Babies cost a lot of money that we don’t have.” I’m not sure if that shut her up or if people stopped asking about the baby around then.

This is probably my BIGGEST issue with my mother-in-law. Yes, I know you want grandchildren. You have four of them, thanks to your daughter (who, by the way, is a nurse who’s 3 out of 4 children were accidents - it’s not like she doesn’t know how that happens...).

Do I want a baby? Absolutely. I’d love to be able to start our family soon. However, we already live month-to-month because we’re trying to pay off credit cards and with all the upcoming expenses we know about, adding another mouth to feed (let alone butt to diaper) just isn’t possible.

This eats away at me every day. I’ve never wanted a career, just a family. I just want to be a stay-at-home Mom and make sure that there’s a hot, home cooked meal on the table when my husband gets home... but, thanks to college, that’s becoming more and more of a pipe dream. My mother-in-law constantly reminding me that I don’t have this makes me sad and angry.

Goodbye, little ZX2 - I think I mentioned this previously, but we had to replace my car. After learning that it had the potential to catch on fire, we opted to move on. Thankfully (well, begrudgingly and thankfully) my parents offered to by the new-to us car for us. We debated about what to get with the budget they had given us and settled on a 2011 For Explorer. It was only in our budget because it’s already got over 100k miles on it, but our old one lasted until +250k, so we figure we’ve got some time before we need to replace it.

Begrudgingly - I hate not being able to pay for my own stuff. My parents are super generous because none of their family helped them when they were in terrible financial situations, so they want nothing more than to make it easier on us. It makes me feel like a free-loader who can’t pay for anything.

Thankfully - I know that it wasn’t safe for me to drive my car and I am thankful that they were willing to pay for a car to replace mine.

Mother-in-law Move - we had my mother-in-law out two weeks ago to look at apartments for her. We had narrowed it down to two and she was able to pick one based on her wants and her budget. She opted for a cheaper apartment so that she would have a little extra wiggle room with her finances. She doesn’t make enough on her own to get approved for the lease, so we cosigned for her. Still waiting on that approval to come through... She’ll be moving out here sometime at the end of June. My husband keeps offering to help pay for things and the only thing that I can say is “WITH WHAT MONEY?! Have you had a large windfall that I don’t know about?” I’ve at least gotten him to say “We’ll help where we can” instead of actually promising specific things.

I told him I wanted to quit my job and he said to go for it - that we would just figure things out. Uhm, no. That’s not how it works. I’ve run the numbers. If we ever want to see the end of credit card debt, I will have to keep working... probably forever, with how it’s going.

There’s a lot more that is upsetting/frustrating/saddening to me that has happened, but I can’t see adding any more to this post. It’s already a novel...