embarrassed writer

~

He follows you into the bathroom one day and you have to pee so bad you can’t even be bothered to stop him. You allow him to stand against the counter facing you and continue the conversation.

When you reach to grab toilet paper you just look at him, “Are you seriously gonna watch me wipe?”

“Yeah.” Jason says it so plainly, as if you asked if he wanted a cup of water.

“You’re such a freak.” You say with a shake of your head, finishing your business.

“It’s literally just pee, babe. I don’t care.” He argues. “Besides, you’re just as much of a freak as me. You’ve got no room to talk.”

“Look at us, a pair of freaks.” You’re beside him at the counter now washing your hands.

Jason doesn’t offer a reply, simply leans over to place a gentle kiss to your cheek.

~

“Jay, I’m plucking my eyebrows. Why are you so close to me.”

Your boyfriend slithered up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist while you leaned into the mirror for a better view.

“‘Cause I wanna be. Can’t I be close to my girl?” His words are muffled in your shoulder blade.

Sighing, truly not that upset, you mumble. “Okay.”

He stays curled up behind you as you finish your mission: making your eyebrows perfect. The entire time his face is either in your back or watching your reflection in the mirror as if you’re the most beautiful thing he’s seen. As if you aren’t making the most egregious faces trying to get the angle you need.

“So pretty, baby.”

~

“Okay, that’s it!” You scream out at Jason one day.

You’d walked into the bathroom 30 minutes ago to give yourself a pedicure. Soaking your feet in a warm bath with fancy products.

Jason has been sitting with you the whole time. Not saying a word, simply providing company while you both do your own thing.

When you’d pulled your feet out and began to dry them off, ready to trims your nails, Jason pulled the tools from your hands and dragged your feet into his lap.

That’s when you’d lost it.

“Why the hell are you trying to cut my fucking toenails, Jason Todd!”

His head whips up to look at you, deer in headlights look at your outrage. He makes no comment, looking confused.

“Doesn’t any of this get to you? Watching me piss and pop pimples and cut my damn ingrowns!” You feel insane. Surely this isn’t normal behavior. Not that you mind it, but why is he doing it?

You refuse to admit that deep down you worry all of this was gonna make him sick of you one day. That he’d see a flaw too closely, something about you that’s too real, and maybe he wouldn’t like it.

“Because it’s you.” His reply comes easy. Simple.

“What?” You’re slightly breathless. Chest previously heaving with bewilderment now struck with a deep wave of love for Jason.

“It’s just you, baby. I don’t care what you’re doing, I just wanna be with you. It’s not gross if it’s you. I want to help you with everything. If you’ll have me, that is.” As if to prove his point, he lifts your still damp foot up and places a kiss to your ankle.

“Jason, that’s- you.” You struggle for words. “That’s actually really fuckin’ sweet.” Tears start to form in your eyes as you take in his admission. “You really feel that way?”

“Remember the first time I opened up to you- the day we moved in together. Told you about how hard it might be to live with me?” Jason’s words are soft. You nod in affirmation.

“You told me, that loving me would never be hard. That no matter how much work it was, you’d never mind it because it was me.” His hands rub gently over your legs.

“It changed something for me, I dunno.” He mumbles, “Made me realize how you’ve never once balked or shied away from anything I ever showed you. How you’ve never made any part of me feel wrong. That’s what it’s like for me, too.”

The tears are falling freely now, warm salt dripping down your cheeks.

“I love you.” There’s nothing else you can think to say.

“I love you.”

“And here I was thinking you’re some freak.” You joke, tears still wetting your shirt.

Fingers brushing underneath your shirt, sliding up, up, up, until they’re appeased with the skin they’ve claimed. Hands gripping and pushing into the fat of your hips, moving down slowly to cup your ass.

As if moving slow will make his actions unnoticeable to you. Like maybe you won’t realize his fingers are leaving indents in your flesh for him to marvel at later when he peels the fabric from your skin.

His only saving grace is he’s doing it when no one can see the two of you. In hidden corners or when everyone is distracted.

The warm callous of his thumb on the back of your neck drags your attention away from the conversation at hand. Your family is hosting a small party in your backyard. Little tents put up with tables of food and drink underneath them.

There are children running around screaming and laughing with waterguns and parents scolding them when they try and splash the adults. The bright sun is setting on the horizon, casting everything in a golden hue. Cicadas chirp all around, the sound creating a pleasant hum that doesn't help your focus.

The hand on the back of your neck leads you inside from the porch. Now you’re being pulled into the small downstairs bathroom.

Joel is your father’s friend. Albeit a much younger friend, but he wasn’t yours first. Deep down, you know that your parents would be fine with your relationship with Joel. Your father would take some time to come around to it, no doubt having choice words with Joel and then you, but he’d accept it eventually.

That still doesn’t mean you want to broadcast your incredible relationship, incredible sex life, to everyone around you with his hands trying to find purchase in your panties.

“Joel!” You hiss and smack his hands away. His large hands skating up your dress to tease at the edge of your underwear. Dipping just below the waistband and brushing against the curls of hair beneath.

He gives you a lazy smirk and chuckles. You think you hate him when he’s the laid back one. Normally he’s on edge, anxious about how people will interpret your interactions while you give him an evil smile and slip your hand into his back pocket.

You guess this is payback.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” He asks, leaning in to place a warm kiss to your neck, lips trailing up to your jaw. “Ain’t no one gonna see. Just lemme have you for a min’.”

His words are muffled by your skin, lips never ceasing their movements against your neck. When you feel the slight graze of his teeth against your skin you pull back quickly with a warning glare.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Joel Miller. I’ll bite your dick off.”

Joel gives you a lazy smile and mocks insult in his voice, “What did I do?”

“You know exactly what you were trying to do. Like hell I’ll let you give me a damn hickey mid-party.”

Lips are on your cheek, kissing down to your neck once more. When you try and push him away again, half-heartedly, he begins to tickle at your sides.

“Joel!” You giggle at the feeling of his strong hands teasing the skin of your waist.

“C’mon, baby. Just one.” His mouth continues its decent finding the valley between your breasts, “I’ll put it somewhere no one will see.”

He’s leaning slightly against the counter to make himself shorter, head resting on your chest as he looks up hopefully.

“You’ve got two minutes.” You cave, unable to deny him.

“Only two?” He scoffs, brows rising into his hairline.

“Clocks ticking. You just lost 10 seconds, Miller.”

He doesn’t waste any more time after that. Mouth capturing the skin of your chest as one of his hands comes to brush your shoulder. Calloused, warm fingers slide underneath the strap of your sundress and peel it down slowly. Exposing half of your chest to Joel’s eagerly awaiting mouth.

His lips latch around your nipple immediately. Tongue flattening over the hardened peak as he suctions gently. The feeling sends tingles down your spine and you gasp lightly, wary of your volume in the small bathroom anyone could walk by.

His other hand pinches the nipple not currently in his mouth before roughly grabbing the entire weight of your breast. His fingers dig into the skin and you tilt your head back to try and keep yourself from groaning.

Joel’s mouth releases your nipple to begin sucking on the skin of your breast, tongue licking at the sweat that’s gathered in a light sheen over your entire body. He hastily pulls down the other strap to reveal your full chest to his hungry gaze.

When he’s greeted with the sight he groans, looking physically weakened. His hands rise like he’s preparing to touch something sacred and he moves to gently palm over your breasts.

“Fuckin’ perfect tits. Could cum in my pants like a teenager every time I see ‘em.”

His hands are on your waist now, pulling you into the space between his legs as his lips work over your skin again. Sucking and biting and licking everything he can reach.

“Do it then.” You challenge, hand carding through his hair and tugging firmly.

The groan he releases into your chest is more of a whimper in your opinion, but you say nothing.

“Later. Right now I gotta take care of my girls.” Joel doesn’t even try and pull away to say the words, instead pressing them into your skin.

His comment makes you laugh and he uses the distraction to bunch up your dress once more, not giving you time to realize what he’s doing before sliding one of those warm fingers beneath your underwear.

He instantly finds your clit, giving it a small, firm circle as you suck in a harsh breath. Hand tightening on his hair as the other moves to grip his shoulder, nails digging into his flesh through his flannel.

“Joel.” You warn. You hope your voice sounds more stern and sure than you feel.

“Reckon I still got another minute, don’t I? Think you can gimme one that fast, baby?”

You don’t think he’s giving you much of a choice as his fingers continue down to your opening. Already wet and ready, clenching around the promise of his fingers.

Okay fine, maybe you’ve been wanting him to drag you away and fuck you since he showed up at your door with his flannel rolled up to his elbows. Those tan, gorgeous forearms on display. Looking like fucking temptation given human form.

“S’already so wet for me. How long you been like this?” His teeth gently nip at your breast and you moan as he pushes one long finger into your wet heat.

His finger starts pumping, curling the way he knows you like, as if the motion will drag the response out of you.

“C’mon baby, tell me.”

Another finger slides in beside the other, minimal resistance due to how wet you are, but just enough stretch and ache to make you keen into him.

“Since you got here.” You lean your head down, burying your face in his hair as a whine builds in your throat.

He’s set a brutal pace right off the bat, fingers curling and stretching you the way he knows you love. The way that always gets you desperate and needy for his cock.

“Poor baby. Been drippin’ all night, why didn’t you tell me? Know I woulda taken care f’ya. Made you cry and cum all over my cock. All’s you gotta do is ask pretty baby. Can’t never say no to you.”

The words are sloppy, pressed against your tits like he can’t be bothered to come up for air. The sounds coming from your core as you feel yourself begin to drip down Joel’s hand are sloppy as well. His filthy words getting to you so much you think you’re going to cum in record time.

“Joel.” You whine into his hair. The hand on the back of his neck digging its nails into his scalp as you feel the familiar tingles of your orgasm approaching.

The hand on his shoulder slides down to grasp at his bicep, feeling the strong muscle move with each pump of his fingers into your sopping core.

“Oh, fuck.” You’re close, so fucking close, so fucking fast. You feel dizzy, overwhelmed by the pleasure flooding through you. “Joel, please.” You’re not sure what you’re begging for as you clutch onto him with everything in you. Needing something to anchor yourself to reality.

Joel pulls his head off your chest, lips swollen from his assault of your breasts. It forces you to pull your head back to look at him.

“I gotcha, pretty baby. Let it go f’me. Cum on my fingers like the good girl I know you are. So fuckin’ desperate for it, ain’t ya? Just couldn’t help yourself.”

Eyes screwing shut, your jaw drops in a silent scream as you clamp down so hard against Joel’s fingers he wonders if you’ll break them. He takes the moment to slip his tongue into your open mouth, brushing his tongue sloppily over your own.

Your hips are stuttering to meet each pump of his fingers, desperately chasing your release. When Joel’s thumb begins to work fast circles over your clit, you’re done for.

Deep groans come from your chest with every pant you heave to keep from passing out. Joel works you through it, mouth clamped over yours to keep you from getting too loud. He feels the vibrations of your moans against his chest and groans into your mouth at the sensation.

When the aftershocks stop making you whine into his mouth and press your bare tits into his chest, he slows his movements. Letting you regain some sense of lucidness before gently pulling his fingers from you.

Holding the evidence of his efforts up before you, he gives you a devilish smirk before placing his fingers in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around them and pulling them free with a dramatic pop.

He carefully pulls the straps of your sundress up over your shoulders once more, careful not to use the fingers he had stuffed in you only moments ago. When he’s got you decent once more, he leans in to give you a deep kiss.

It’s all tongue and spit. The wet glide of the drool that’s pooled in your mouth and your slick coating his tongue making you feel delirious. Making you consider dropping to your knees to suck him dry.

Joel pulls away from your mouth with a fond smile, leaning in to give you a sweet peck before turning to wash his hands.

“You good?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Yeah. You?” Your breath is still shaky, but you’ll recover soon enough.

Drying his hands, Joel’s deep voice drawls out smoothly, “Fuckin’ great.” Then that southern accent turns mocking, “Did I go over my two minutes, ma’am?”

Turning to face you, his hands come up to help smooth down your hair. You flick his ear in retaliation as you do the same for him, fixing the strands you tugged every which way.

Giving yourself a once over in the mirror, you decide you look relatively unscathed and unsuspicious enough. You’ll blame the flushing and fast pound of your heart on the heat if anyone asks.

“Ready?” You ask, planning to peek your head out before sneaking the two of you out of the small bathroom.

“Nah, you go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”

Furrowing your brows, Joel sighs. Hands on his hips as he shakes his head, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “Needa minute, darlin’”

Looking down you see what the issue is. Joel is obviously, painfully, undoubtedly hard in his jeans.

“Do you want me to-”

“No. I got my fill. Make it up to me later.” With a kiss to your temple, Joel opens the bathroom door slowly and looks around out of the small opening. Confirming that the coast is clear, he backs away and lets you out with a warm hand on your waist.

“See you out there, Mr. Miller.” You wink. Calling him that always gets a reaction out of him. Either a stuttering in his thrusting above you as he buries his face in your neck or your face pressed into the pillows as he sets a punishing pace.

Joel only groans at the name this time, “I’m tryin’ to calm down here, sweetheart. Stop tryin’ to fuckin’ rile me up.”

Smiling sweetly, you glance around to make sure no one has suddenly snuck up on you before stepping into his space once more. Placing a sweet peck to his lips you give him a look of mock sympathy. Well, he doesn’t know it’s mocking.

Joel lets his guard down for a moment, thinking you’re actually giving him some respite. Then you open your mouth again.

“Yes, sir.”

Prologue - 1

Alina Moore had a childhood normal as any. Born in 1833 on the thirty-first day of May to Patrick and Davan Moore, Alina was the first, and only, child of the Moore family. Being an only child was quite an uncommon amongst the large Irish families her parents came from.

When Alina was five years old, the Moore family moved from their home in Montana to Canada. Alina’s fourth year was a particularly hard one for her health, so much so that her parents were afraid she might not survive. When she pulled through, they decided that whatever time they had left with their daughter would be gentler.

Relocating to Ardmore, a small village in Alberta, Canada, made the Moore family subject of everyone’s talk for some time. The scenery surrounding the village was beautiful and many talented health practitioners lived within a day’s ride; in Patrick and Davan’s eyes the vipers who hissed at them were fair trade for their daughter’s wellbeing.

As Alina aged her parents noticed she had a talent for always being ill. Whether it be a fever, a gash torn into her body, or a twisted ankle, the girl was never without injury. She paid no mind to it, far too pleased with the beautiful land her family lived on to bother herself with something so out of her control. There was nothing unusual about it to Alina, for she had no other experiences to compare it to.

Many people had opinions about Alina’s health, though. There was no way for her parents to hide their daughter’s ailments, so the strongminded people in their village began to speculate. Some thought it was cruel to let a child live like that, others thought it was a punishment from God. Mr. and Mrs. Moore tried their best to shield Alina from such comments.

As time went by most of the muttering had stopped about the Moore family and their peculiar child. Patrick and Davan thought they were finally settling in and becoming one with their community. Until seven years after their arrival in Ardmore, neighbors started whispering about Alina again. Some going as far as to say prayers when she passed.

There had been stories passed from town to town about a boy who was cursed. Rumors stated that the boy had been ill for most his life and one day he snapped and killed a man, his own father. The part that truly scared people was that he did not just kill the man in any ordinary way. It was said that the boy had been cursed by the devil with terrible powers, that he had claws which tore straight through a grown man. All agreed he was a beast and a monster. People could not help but notice the similarities Alina shared with the boy-beast. After that, many families in Ardmore viewed Alina as a monster as well, waiting for the day she snapped.

Mr. and Mrs. Moore did not see their daughter’s health as anything bad. Their child laughed and loved like everyone else, was that not enough? How could no one see the wonderful daughter they brought into the world for who she was?

When the Moore family attended church and people would extend cruel stares, murmuring about how preposterous it was that ‘some creature like that could enter a church and not burn’, Davan had to hold Patrick back from making a scene many times. As a young child such things hurt Alina, for the life of her she could not understand how she had wronged them. Few parents allowed their children near Alina, leaving her to grow up with only the friendship of her parents. As the years went on and the girl grew older it stopped bothering her as much; she had grown to enjoy her own company.

Ten and two years after their move, in the spring of 1850, Alina’s ten and seventh birthday was approaching. Patrick and Davan decided that for their daughter’s name day, which Alina had not ceased talking about for the past three months, they would travel to Alberta Beach. It would take four days for them to arrive at the shore, so on the twenty seventh day of May the family set off.

Despite the fact Alina was not fond of long trips, her parents did not hear her complain once. The girl unable to stop staring out the window, enjoying the sky and the scenery, Alina felt renewed, a hope bubbling over in her chest and a feeling that something great was bound to happen.

Though she would never admit it, Alina always dreamed of being more than what she was. Of being something great, doing everything a man could do and more. To evolve past the small minded ways of those who surrounded her. Her thoughts never stopped racing the entire ride; about that stretch of land, or how the sun looked on the horizon over there, the way the air smelled as they passed the field of flowers. She did not even notice that she had not spoken a single one of them aloud.

When the Moore’s arrived in Alberta Beach late on the thirtieth of May, they found a small inn, paid for a room, and prepared themselves for the following day. It would be a lie to say Alina found sleep easy that night. With all the excitement of being in a place unknown to her and the eve of her birthday, her mind was active and revolted at the idea of sleep.

At dawn on the thirty-first of May, Alina’s squeals of joy could he heard throughout the small inn. Alina was sure she had never felt more delighted than she did walking through the crowds of people that day. She had not been fighting a new ailment or injured herself in the past fortnight and she felt as though she was truly living for once. To add to her joy there were no neighbors staring and whispering wherever she went, either.  

Unfortunately, Alina’s good luck did not want to stick around for long. Her parents’ pleas of ‘stay by our side’ and ‘try not to wander too far from eye’s sight’ went unheard by Alina. She was feeling adventurous, her bones practically buzzing with excitement. Something felt different about today. This feeling had been building for weeks, each day leading up to this very moment bringing lightning into her body, she felt ready to explode now. So, going a little farther than she should have from her parents did not seem like it would end the world, would it?

As she was twisting and navigating through the crowds, Alina noticed she had truly lost track of her parents. Spotting a small tree by the water that was elevated on a hill, she decided it was a good enough place for her parents to find her and headed towards it. With her eyes locked on her destination, no longer paying any mind to the sights around her, she bumped into something far too hard for one’s liking.

Alina lost her footing instantly and her face seemingly decided the dirt would be a very nice place to rest. As she saw the ground nearing, Alina prepared for the inevitable pain that would result from such a tumble. She only hoped she would not injure herself too badly.  

The pain never comes. At least not where it was supposed to be coming from. There was only the ache of something securely and tightly grasping her waist. When she looked and saw that they were someone’s hands, her initial reaction was to slap them away, sadly familiar with the unwelcome grip of a presumptuous man. But then again, they were keeping her from hitting the ground. So, she relented the thought and let them stay put until she recovered her footing.

Alina turned to face the owner of the hands who caught her and saw a boy just about her age. His eyes almost the same color blue as the water she was heading towards. The humming in her bones seemed to settle, if only for a moment.

Still feeling the boy’s hands gripping her waist she looked down to his hands and after noticing where she was looking, he released her. While taking a step back, Alina stumbled over herself and alas this time she did hit the dirt, hip bones reverberating the smack of the ground up her spine.

“If you wanted to sit down so badly, you should have just said so.” Those were the first words she heard out of the boy’s mouth. His tone jesting, undoubtedly amused at her clumsy display.

It took Alina a second to respond, still slightly embarrassed at the fact she had fallen immediately after he prevented her original tumble. “Oh, my apologies. Next time I shall plaster a sign to my back lest you waste your time.”

“It was no waste.” The boy gave an awkward smile that was more like a grimace, as if it were a difficult expression for him to make. Alina offered him an easy grin.

Feeling throbbing in her ankle, Alina decided she should get it over with and assess the damage she’d done. Pulling up the bottom of her skirts revealed an already bruising ankle. Alina pouted a dissatisfied scowl.

The boy spoke again. “Did I do that or was it your own doing?”

“Perhaps you. Perhaps me. It all happened in such a rush there is no way to be certain.” Giving the boy a small smile she continued, “Let us say it was a bit of both, I suppose.”

Trying to roll her ankle, Alina inhaled a sharp hiss at the pain it radiated through her leg. She was determined to get to the tree on the hill and prayed that her ankle would be walkable. The injury was still so fresh it made the situation difficult; every second that went on the swelling increased and the ache only went deeper and deeper.

Deciding that he was the only option as she could not see her parents and staying on the dirt path was not viable, she spoke again. “Could I trouble you? More than I already have.”

The boy looked down at Alina expectantly, leading her to continue.

“Would you mind helping me over to that tree?” Alina extended her arm to show the boy where she was set on going, “I seemed to have sprained my ankle and I do not think I can walk on it this time.”

After long moments of silence, in which had Alina begun spinning her thoughts into believing she had done something wrong, the boy picked her up and began to carry her over to the tree. She tried her hardest to keep a gasp at bay at the way the boy easily carried her weight. Alina could not remember the last time she was ever whisked off the ground, let alone so effortlessly. Wrapping the arm closest to his body around his neck, Alina tried to hide her face in it as people gave them reproachful stares.

Waiting until she was placed on solid ground to speak again, Alina expressed her gratitude. “Thank you. I am terribly sorry about this.”

He nodded his head in simple acknowledgement. It seemed he was content to leave the interaction at that before Alina saw something spark in his eyes. “This time?”

Confused, she furrowed her brows and thought back to their conversation on the walking path. Her previous comment was recalled, ‘I do not think I can walk on it this time’.

Continuing, he inquired. “Do you do this frequently?” At his probing, Alina took careful notice of the boy in front of her.

His hair was short and dark, messy around the edges and reaching towards the sky. The best way to describe it was wild, certainly not fit for a boy who spoke as if he’d been raised by a gentleman. Alina would have referred to him as scrawny at first glance, if she had not known better as she does now. When one really looked at him it was clear that he was nothing of the boney, weedy sort.

He had a face no more extraordinary than any other man’s, no more beautiful or ragged than those around him, he was quite plain Alina thought shamefully. There were no features on him that would make you stop in your track and gawk at the boy in front of her.

Yet there was something about the way his features fit his face, so well placed, as if each one were put there as a disguise that drew Alina to him. As if underneath the handsome, plain mask he wore there was something tantalizing and feral. Something about his eyes that made Alina think that his was indeed a face she was not going to forget for quite some time.

Realizing she was staring at him for far too long, Alina answered with a playful tone and a genuine smile. “Only when I have nothing left to entertain me.”

The boy chuckled at her remark as he moved himself and sat next to her. He stuck his hand out. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” and the way he drew out the word made it clear he was asking her name.

“Alina.” She responded, placing her own hand into his to shake. His hand was warm, large enough that his fingers overlapped around her palm, and far more worn from work than she would have expected for a boy of his age.

She had shaken a farmer’s son’s hand before. That boy would wake with every dawn and work til dusk on his father’s land, and even his hands did not seem so worn, so used as the boy’s before her.

Alina felt something stir in her chest the longer their hands stayed connected. A feeling you sense in your gut, one which rouses an emotion in you that you cannot fully grasp. She hoped that it was a good omen working its way through her body, that this feeling was not indicative of something terrible coming soon.

Any pessimistic thoughts left Alina’s mind as a small smile started to appear on the boy’s face, nothing like the grimace-smile he gave her earlier. She decided that there was no way this was a feeling to dread.

“A pleasure to meet you, Alina.”

Keeping his hold on Alina’s hand he seemed to think for a second before he asked. “Could I find someone for you? I would not feel right leaving you here alone injured.”

Grateful towards and intrigued with the boy, Alina eased any of his concerns. “Pay it no mind. My parents are just down the path somewhere. I am certain they shall find me promptly.”

With her conclusion, she realized their hands were still connected in the space between them and pulled her own away from his.

Not satisfied with the answer, the boy countered. “Since you claim they will be here promptly I shall wait with you until they arrive.”

Settling on the fact that the boy seemed harmless and slightly confounded by the fact he seemed to care so much, Alina did not quarrel his decision.

After a silence too long and tense for Alina’s comfort, she realized she had forgotten something most important. “You never mentioned your name.”

The boy started to form the shape of his name on his tongue when Alina heard her mother yell out to her. Head turning in her mother’s direction, Alina called out to let her mother know she was alright. As she turned back to tell the boy that to say that her parents were close and to once again thank him for his help, he had already begun to blend into the crowd.

Alina’s parents were helping carry her back to the inn to get a bandage, not allowing her to place weight on the injury until they assessed it. Alina was scrutinizing every face she passed hoping to find the boy again as they made their way back to the inn. She was perplexed at his sudden disappearance, wondering why he had left so abruptly and without telling her his name.

By the time she had reached the door to their room, Alina had decided to let her curiosity go and take the kindness he had offered her. It was not the strangest thing that could have happened. Thinking it over, she decided that it was a birthday gift from the universe.

Placed gently on the bed, Alina pulled her skirts up once more to reveal the injured ankle to her parents’ worried gazes. The pain had reduced greatly and in her experience that was never a good symptom. The last time an injury went numb was when she dislocated a joint in her finger, the bone jutting out at an unnatural angle, the practitioners worried she might lose it.

Alina was absolutely certain her ankle had was going to be awfully swollen and bruised. Looking down to see the inescapable damage she saw her injured ankle. No. Her perfectly fine ankle. The skin was no longer discolored and the swelling at the joint had disappeared. Alina knew she had injured her ankle; she saw the swelling and bruising earlier. So did the boy who helped her.

Davan sighed in relief at the sight of her daughter’s unmaimed ankle. “You must have just twisted it, thank goodness. The last thing you need is another injury on your birthday.”

Rolling her ankle in a circle a few times and feeling no pain, Alina nodded in acknowledgment of her mother’s words. Alina knew she was not crazy, but how would she explain that she saw damage clear as day? That not even ten minutes previous, her ankle was on its way to doubling in size?

Maybe it was the lighting or a shadow from the boy standing above her. Deciding not to let it trouble her mind, Alina agreed with her mother. “You are right. I must have been lucky.”

It was all Alina could tell herself. There was no other explanation for what she knew occurred.

He was hurling nasty words at everyone in the room. The kind of things only a washed up ex-jock would say. It was obvious he wasn’t a nice guy on any given day but the alcohol and whatever drugs he took made it that much worse. Soon his insults began to turn your frustration and anger into doubt and shame.

You clamped down on the tears that threatened to spill and kept working, the saline burning your waterline. Telling yourself to block it out. It was just some asshole who didn't have a clue how any of this worked. Someone who's insults mean nothing to your life.

Then Robby snapped at you too.

It was a misunderstanding. He thought you were working on a different laceration, so when you called out for a new thing of sub-dermal thread he scoffed.

“You should know better than to use that kind of thread on a wound like this.” A cutting laugh, “A med schooler knows better. How the hell am I supposed to leave this place if I can’t trust my doctors to be competent?”

Throat tightening with shame, you said nothing. It was Jesse who pointed out that you had started on a different wound, one that most definitely required the thread you’d asked for.

Robby didn’t apologize, just looked down at the wound, sharp gaze assessing the sutures you’d already placed. He nodded faintly before leaving the room with a mutter of, “Make sure those aren’t too tight.”

The second you finished suturing you’d come here. This part of the hospital has been getting renovated for the last three weeks and today is one of the construction crew's days off. The stairwell was hidden from any windows and it was large enough that when you curled up against its furthest wall you couldn't hear any traces of people beyond the double doors. It's the perfect place to sob your heart out.

You know you’re capable and competent, and really fucking good at your job. Robby was out of line. It’s not worth the stress. All of that is evident to you. But sometimes it’s just nice to cry. To not have to hold it together and seem tough, to whine and blubber until it feels less heavy.

Park entered the trauma room moments after you’d rushed out. The tense atmosphere lingering was a bit much, even for him, and he knew that it wasn’t the normal edge everyone sat on when he was around. Probing Jesse, he figured out what happened and went to find you after his consult. When he passed by the corridor that led to a vacant stairwell, something in him pulled him to go down it. Which led him to find you here.

“I know what happened, Robby was way out of line.” It was that same soft tone, one that your coworkers would probably have a brain malfunction at if they ever heard it. Park the Shark talking sweetly? Soothing someone? Impossible.

But here he was, your shark, approaching you with a gentleness one usually reserves for skittish animals and frightened children. A gentleness that he's never used in either of those scenarios. A gentleness he's only ever had for you. That just makes you cry harder.

He thinks your renewed sobbing is because you're reminded of Robby's comments, so some of that usual gruffness he has comes out as he chastises. “I don’t care whatever personal problems he’s having. He’s an asshole. I should knock his fuckin’ teeth in.”

“No.” You whimper out, throat so scratchy you can barely speak above a whisper.

Brendon leans down, crouching beside you to pet at your hair and pull it back from your face. He hates seeing you upset, but he can’t lie and say it doesn’t look good on you. The expressions and noises so similar to when he makes you fall apart around him.

In your time together he’s realized that when you whine and cry it’s not always that big of a deal. That you know it’s not that serious but crying helps you get through your feelings better. So that’s how he knows you aren’t that upset over this.

Sure, you’re hurt that Robby yelled at you. Yes, the things the patient said were incredibly rude, but you’re tough. You’ll be over it by shift change. You know it yourself. You also haven’t had a good cry lately. Which is what you're sure has prompted such a reaction from you.

When you lift your head up, watery eyes looking at Brendon, he thinks he can’t be blamed for the blood he feels rushing south. Your lips puffy and wobbling as you take shuddering breaths.

“M’okay.” Words mumbled together, you lean into Brendon’s hand still on your head. He uses his thumb to wipe at the tears still falling down your cheek.

Crying in front of him used to be off the table. You didn’t want him to think you were weak or dramatic or a crybaby. After a few months of dating you couldn’t stop it one day. Completely breaking down in front of him because you hadn’t washed your favorite coffee mug. Sure, there was a bit more nuance to the story there but that’s ultimately what triggered it.

Instead of being angry or put off or whatever other terrible reaction you were worried he’d have, he seemed almost amused before gently soothing you and washing the mug himself. He didn’t care how dramatic your reaction might've seemed.

Brendon always thought you were a bit dramatic in other ways, so the fact that your sadness could be so theatrical didn’t bother him. You admit to him after why you’d never been this way in front of him, fearful he wouldn’t want to be with a crybaby. He just laughed and said that nothing would scare him off.

That’s also when he started calling you Crybaby as a nickname. Always endearingly and never to demean you. It was often used in private moments in your shared bed when you couldn't help the tears that fell from your eyes. It was meant to be comforting. Claiming, too. The nickname being shortened down to Baby when you’re in public. To everyone else, it's one of the most commonly used terms of affection. But you both know exactly what he means every time he lets the word spill from his lips.

“No you’re not, sweetheart. You’re sobbing in a stairwell.” You can hear the edge of humor in his voice that he tries to conceal with his tone of concern.

“Yeah, okay.” You respond with a small smile. It was a bit absurd sitting in a dark, empty stairwell blubbering with tears and claiming to be fine.

“Can I sit with you?” You don’t even know why he asks it. He already knows the answer.

He still does that with a lot of things: can I kiss you? Yes. does this feel good? Yes. is this okay? Yes. can I come with you? Yes. The answer is always yes for him. You always want him.

“Of course you can.”

The warmth beneath his skin radiates off him, invading the air next to you and easing the goosebumps that had formed along your arms. Most people think because he’s cold to them emotionally, he’s also cold physically.

But he’s not cold to you. Never to you. For you, he’s all heated, reverent touches and warm hands. Blinding smiles and eyes lit up like the sun.

Large arm draped around your shoulder, Brendon pulls you into him, your arms wrapping around his waist. Face buried in his neck, you inhale that delicious cologne you picked out for him last Christmas.

“I’m sorry I’m acting like a whiny baby and wasting your time.” You mutter, the words making more tears gather and your throat tighten a bit.

You’ve always been self conscious that one of these days he’d think you’re too much. Too dramatic. Too whiny. Too easy to cry. Too sensitive.

That day would never come though. Brendon is madly, hopelessly in love with you.

“What are you talking about? I’m happy to be here for you. This is anything but a waste of my time.” Brendon consoles, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

Park the Shark didn’t handle tears from anyone. He finds it annoying and uncomfortable, a waste of time when you can just spit it out.

When you cry though, it’s just Brendon’s sweet girl needing a second to decompress. It’s a natural reaction. It's something sacred to be able to witness. It's an honor to be trusted enough that you'll let him see you so vulnerable.

Over time you’ve gotten him to be more accommodating to those who get teary eyed around him. Being around someone who cries as often as you do has made him ever so slightly gentler towards crying patients.

"Would you laugh at me if I told you my period started today too?" You mumble into his skin.

The tears have finally stopped and air begins refilling your lungs again. Heaving breaths now replaced by long drags of oxygen into your desperately awaiting chest. Your skin still feels damp and your face is definitely puffy. If there was a mirror in front of you, you're sure you'd see some faint snot trails and your hair in a mess. Your reflection would show an absolute wreck staring back at you.

But when Brendon pulls back to look at you, hand gently coaxing your face up to meet his eye, he looks at you as if you're the most beautiful thing he's seen.

There's a faint smirk of amusement on his lips as he says, "I'd just say it makes your breakdown even more understandable. You've been pushing yourself these last few days despite feeling like shit. Now you're dealing with asshole patients, Robby, and your period? I'm surprised you haven't bit my head off yet."

His joke makes you chuckle lightly. Despite being easily brought to tears, there's no doubt that you can easily match his mean streak. It's one of the many things on a never ending list he loves about you.

“Oh well, give me a bit. I’m sure you’ll get a few nips before the week is up. Sorry in advance.” You joke dryly. Brendon’s laugh is so hearty you can’t help but laugh with him.

"I love you." The words are so soft it's as if they're being whispered directly into your mind. Brendon always tells you he loves you with such earnest devotion it makes your heart seize. It's impossible not to smile.

"Even though I'm a crybaby?" You poke. Not actually doubting his confession, simply trying to ease your own embarrassment with humor.

"Because you're a crybaby." When you pull away with a dramatic faux gasp, Brendon lets out another warm laugh. One of your favorite sounds, you think. "I love you for everything you are. So if that means I love you for being a crybaby, so be it."

"Okay, that's actually really sweet." You gush while leaning in to give him a light peck against his cheek, careful to not get any potential snot or tears on his skin. "I love you, too. Even if you are a shark."

Brendon rolls his eyes at the name and when he lets out his own dramatic huff you soothe him, "You're my shark."

That makes the scowl on his face lessen just slightly. You can tell he’s putting effort into seeming upset.

You’re about to comment on it when he opens his mouth, full on smirking. “I’ll show you how much of a shark I am tonight.”

Your mouth shuts with a dramatic clink and you feel warmth start to build in your chest, breathing turning irregular. You can’t think of anything to say to that, brain faintly short-circuiting as you bluster out, “I just told you I have my period.”

“A little blood never bothered a shark, did it?”

Brendon has never once expressed disgust at the mention of your period, but you’ve never allowed anything that intimate to occur while you have it. The stigma and fear that he’d find it gross keeping you from ever going beyond dry-humping or giving him head.

Before you can even attempt to make some sort of sentence in your mind, Brendon is rising to his full height and pulling you up with him.

Pressing a deep kiss to your lips, you feel his teeth scrape over your bottom lip before being it’s being soothed with the wet drag of his tongue. It’s the kind of kiss that’s meant to promise something.

“See you at the end of your shift, crybaby.”

Langdon is the one who calls you back, still stuck working chairs at Robby’s orders. The PTMC staff knew you. The numerous times you’d show up with lunch for Brendon, the occasional times you’d stop in with an injury of your own, various work events. Everyone got along with you well, much more than with your predator of a boyfriend. Jokes that weren’t actually jokes but comments disguised behind a laugh would often flow about how Park the Shark ended up with you.

That being said, you knew someone definitely bumped you up in line. You weren’t going to complain though. The pain was bad enough that you just wanted to go home and pass out in bed the second this was over.

Frank smiles at you, genuinely happy to see you. “Hey Shark Bait, what’re you doing here?” The nickname manages to bring a small smile to your face. The shift in Frank’s tells you it resembles more of a grimace, though.

“Fucked up my collarbone, probably a couple ribs too.” You groan as you settle down on the exam chair.

His fingers gently probe over your shirt. Running as light as possible down the side of your ribs, clearly sensing the pain in your face the second he applies pressure. “Yeah, definitely feel some things outta place there. Let’s get you sent back for some imaging. I’ll page Park.”

Your only acknowledgement is a small nod and thumbs up. Within minutes, Perlah’s at your side and walking beside you as you slowly make your way to exam 8.

The curtain is pulled back abruptly and the sight of Robby comes into view, his hands furiously rubbing sanitizer over themselves. “Heard we had a VIP in the ER, figured I should come take care of it myself.” He jokes, eyes focused on reviewing your chart.

“Aw, Abbot not in yet?” You tease. Robby shoots you a raised brow over his glasses with a sharp glare and you chuckle. The movement sends a shock of pain through your entire left side, causing your lungs to constrict. It’s another 10 seconds before you’re able to take a semi-full breath again.

Robby’s face falls into sympathy, “Want anything for the pain?”

“S’alright. I’ve gotta drive home. Besides, you know it doesn’t do much for me anyways.” Nodding solemnly, Robby moves to your side.

“You mind if I have some students sit in with us? Not every day we get a hypermobile Ehlers Danlos patient in here. No one better to teach ‘em than you.” His hands are carefully starting to feel down your left arm, checking for a pulse and nerve reactions. You look up and see the med students already standing there.

Javadi you know well enough. Some new students, Ogilvie and Kwon, you’re pretty sure. Behind them Santos and Whitaker are walking past the nurses station and when Santos sees you, she quickly pivots and pulls Whitaker with her.

“What did we do to deserve fresh bait in here?” Santos jokes.

You shift awkwardly, face flushing and throat suddenly dry. It makes a grating sound when you clear it and speak lowly to Robby, “Could this maybe not be a teaching moment?”

It took a good three hours of gaslighting yourself before you let yourself believe maybe, you should get medical attention. Another two after that to finally accept yes, I should get this checked out just to be safe. The hickeys and bruises from last night were impossible to hide. The second closest ER would’ve taken another half hour to get to and you’re pretty sure it wasn’t wise to drive in your current state as is.

The last thing you wanted was half of the PTMC’s emergency department staff to see the evidence of your latest fuck with one of their surgeons who regularly does orthopedic consults. Robby alone would be bad enough.

Robby’s face scrunches in confusion but he immediately complies, nodding. “Yeah, yeah that’s fine. Let me go get Dana to sit in.”

Turning, he ushers the small crowd that started forming out of the room and ducks his head into the hallway to call for Dana. She walks in a few moments later and closes the curtain behind her and sighs when she looks at you. “What’s going on, hun?”

“Oh you know. Think I dislocated a couple things trying to walk and chew gum at the same time.” She grants you a small laugh and comes over beside you, hand hovering over your shirt.

“Need a hand with this?” Nodding you lean back a bit to give her a better angle to help reach for the hem. “Got anything underneath? Should I grab you a gown?”

“No I’ve got something on, thanks. Besides, not like y’all haven’t seen tits before.”

Dana huffs a true laugh out at that, “More than I’d like to sometimes, kid.”

Robby’s keeping his head down as he pulls on his gloves. Despite the fact he’s about to be touching your exposed chest he still wants to give you a sense of privacy. When the shirt starts to come up over your stomach you startle.

“Uhm-”

Dana halts her movements, shirt held in place. Robby looks up then, trying to see what went wrong.

“Listen, just, please don’t say anything. Okay?”

Robby’s brows shoot up, confused by what you could mean as you let Dana slide the shirt the rest of the way off. From her place slightly behind you, she doesn’t have the same view as Robby.

Robby who takes in the sight in front of him and mutters out, “Fuckin’- what the hell?” Voice full of concern and disbelief.

Dana comes around to see what Robby’s reacting to and instead of shock gracing her face, it hardens. After a moment she tilts her head down to force you to meet her eyes. “Park do this to you?”

You say nothing, just place your head in your right hand with a pathetic whimper of embarrassment. The sound must’ve come across wounded because Dana pushes on, “Someone you love shouldn’t do that to you, sweetie. We can help.”

Robby finally finds his voice. “There is zero tolerance for domestic assault in this hospital. We have people in the building right now who can handle this in minutes.”

Your head shoots up, “No! God, no, it’s not what it looks like.” You try and explain, but how the hell do you explain the situation without telling your dirty, kinky secrets to your partner’s coworkers.

“It looks like someone’s been hurting you.” Robby says flatly.

“I wanted it.” Dana’s brows shoot up at that. You struggle for the words to continue.

“Listen we,” you sigh, “Brendon and I are-”. Your voice breaks off in an insanity fueled laugh, “I mean have you seen him?”

Robby is clearly not following what you’re saying.

“Neither of us are exactly, gentle lovers. Last night was just a little intense. It wasn’t anything I didn’t want though, I asked for it.” You explain. Voice speeding up as you ramble, “Please don’t think Brendon would ever hurt me like that. Fuck no. He’s the most caring, loving man I’ve ever met. Really.”

Dana just started shaking her head with a small laugh, smirk tugging on her lips. “Alright then. Whatever floats your boat.”

Robby still looks like he’s trying to compute the information he’s gained in the last forty seconds. Dana starts attaching leads to you to get a vitals check and by the time she’s done, Robby is still just standing there.

“Dr. Robby! Would you please assess our patient?” As if broken from a trance, Robby’s eyes meet yours and quickly flit to Dana.

“Yes, of course.”

Robby is barely looking at the injury for three minutes when the curtain is dragged open. The space wide enough to expose you to the nurse’s station, leaving your secret vulnerable to anyone nearby. Well, at least it would be if it weren’t for the 6’2”, hulking man standing in its gap.

The same man whose teeth had sunken into your flesh over and over and over again last night, making you cry out noises you didn’t even know you were capable of. His eyes dark as he drank down every sound were now filled with concern.

“What happened?” He’s quickly closing the curtain behind him, not a single inch of your skin being exposed to the curious and prying eyes of a certain pair of nurses with an R2 behind them. His tone is sharp, quick and to the point. Like it always is whenever he’s worried about you.

“Nothing, baby. I’m fine I promise. I just wanted to be safe and get it checked out.” You try and soothe him, his hands immediately coming to rest over your collarbone.

The warmth of his skin is the only thing you feel, or maybe it’s the only thing you let yourself focus on. “When did this happen?”

You quickly drop eye contact with him. “Early this morning. ‘Bout an hour or so after you left.”

“Sweetheart, I left at 5am this morning. It’s past 1pm.” His hand finds your chin, making you look at him. All you give him is a small smile.

“Oops?”

“Why didn’t you call me.” He removes his hands, done with his assessment.

“I didn’t want to worry you. Figured it would go away within a few hours, but it just kept getting worse.”

“The clavicle dislocation is anterior. I want to get an x-ray on the ribs just to be safe but I think it’s just pinching a nerve this time.” Brendon explains, looking over at Robby who nods and places the order.

Brendon sits down on the bed next to you, hand stroking over your cheek lovingly. “We’re done here.” He doesn’t even glance over his shoulder towards the other people in the room as he dismisses them.

“I’ll be back to take her up for imaging myself.” Dana calls as she and Robby slide out from the curtain.

“I’m so getting you back for this later.” You tell Brendon and he only smirks as he lets his eyes fall to appreciate his handiwork.

“I hope you do.”

_

“Looks like Shark was a more accurate nickname than we thought, huh, Robinavitch?”

Robby doesn’t dignify Dana with a response.

He’d like a moment of silence to try and remove the intricate knowledge of his coworker’s sex life from his mind.