#I was recommended to do it back in February… it’s still not too late | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

clarisse0o · 3 months ago

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Camp Wiegman-Part 55

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 7k

Masterlist

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Wednesday, February 17; 9:15 AM - Ski Resort

I still find it hard to believe what we're about to do today. The days are passing, and we're already halfway through our trip. Me, a sun-loving girl who's only ever been to beaches, is now discovering a ski resort for the first time. Ever since I heard the news, I've had a lump in my throat. I just can't wrap my head around it.

“Do you think I’ll be able to do it?” Mapi asks me, standing by my side.

I take a deep breath. Thankfully, in the worst scenarios, my best friend is always there to face things with me.

"It’s up to you to feel it. Are you still in a lot of pain?” I ask, referring to her leg.

“It depends on the day... I hope it’ll be okay.”

“Have you talked to Ingrid about it?”

“Yeah, we had a chance to talk. She knows I don’t like to bring it up, but she knows what happened.”

“Then you don’t need to worry. I’m sure she’ll be careful.”

“You think so?”

“Of course,” I say with a smile. “From what I’ve seen these past few days, she seems attentive to you. I have no doubt she’ll know when to stop you if you push too hard.”

“Blah, blah, blah.”

We laugh, fully aware that this is exactly what will happen. Mapi loves challenges, and once she’s conquered them, she tends to not want to stop. I understand her fear, though. Skiing puts a lot of strain on your legs. She’ll likely feel pain at some point, even with the effective treatment she’s been on for years. Skiing... Just thinking about it gives me goosebumps. I’m not at all comfortable with this idea, especially after our last two nights. The waitress Aitana flirted with invited us to some private parties. The first one was quite wild for some, and we got back late. We didn’t want to do much the next day. Most of us stayed at the hotel to relax, while the two other couples and I preferred to head back into town. We went out again last night, but it was much more low-key. The girls didn’t want to waste another day doing nothing. They had used their day at the hotel to look into things to do. The ski resort was their top recommendation. When they suggested it to us, I was the only one not very enthusiastic. I tend to enjoy walking in the snow in different ways, but I realize that’s not everyone’s preference. The girls were starting to lose patience and really wanted to do something more dynamic. This activity was definitely a lot more energetic than the previous ones. The weather was on our side, with the snow having stopped today, so it was the perfect time to plan sledding and skiing. The last time I was in a place like this, I must have been six years old. My mom wasn’t a fan of mountain vacations, being someone who had always lived in the sun. We went once thanks to my dad, who granted my wish. Those were the most memorable holidays for me because it was the first time I ever went sledding. However, I never skied, and the same goes for Mapi, who, unlike me, is seeing snow for the first time after her first visit to Manchester. We were supposed to go sledding this morning, but because of our little handicap, our girlfriends, who are currently ahead of us, decided to change the plan for the four of us. Since Mapi hadn’t changed her behavior, I thought it was a good opportunity for just the two of us. I needed to talk to her. I could sense something was bothering her, and I didn’t like it. I tried sending Alexia in my place, but she couldn’t get much out of her. Either Mapi didn’t understand her intention, or I was really imagining things, which I doubt.

“So, can I ask you a question?” she starts again. “But you won’t take it the wrong way, right?”

“Why would I take it the wrong way?”

“It’s about Lucy.”

The mention catches me off guard. Is she trying to talk about it? The timing couldn’t be better. At least we can clear the air before today’s activities because we both know there’s some tension.

“I’m listening.”

“Promise me you won’t take it the wrong way?” she insists.

“Mapi, we’ve always told each other everything up until now. Why would you be afraid of my reaction?”

She sighs, letting her shoulders relax. Her behavior towards me over the past two days remains a mystery. The way she kept pulling me away from Lucy left me puzzled and annoyed. I started wondering if she had a problem with her, and now I’m starting to believe it more and more. I hope it’s nothing serious. I don’t particularly want them to stop talking, or worse, have to choose between the two.

“So why didn’t you come talk to me yourself? You sent Alexia, didn’t you? I’m not that clueless.”

I bite my lip, caught off guard. Alexia had warned me that it would be better if I went myself, but I didn’t listen. Now, I’m already regretting that bad decision.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, you’re right.”

“So, you really sent her?”

“I could tell you were on edge. I was afraid it would get worse if I came first.”

We look at each other for a moment, then laugh together. We both feel a bit silly, I think. There’s good reason for it. We’ve never been afraid to tell each other things. That’s what I’ve always loved about Mapi. Even if we knew it wouldn’t please the other, we’ve always been honest.

“Sorry, I was really nervous about bringing it up.”

“You didn’t need to be,” I sigh. “So... it’s about Lucy, right?”

“Yeah, um...” she starts, suddenly feeling awkward. “I don’t really know how to say this. First, does she still hold a grudge against me?”

“What?” I frown. “No! Why would she have something against you?”

I look at my girlfriend who’s ahead of us with Ingrid. We’ve slowed down our walk since we started talking, creating a bigger gap than before. They’re both in an animated conversation, laughing from time to time. I think about all the ways Lucy could have made her think that, but nothing comes to mind. She did give her a bit of a hard look the day she pulled me away from her during the walk, but that passed quickly when she found it amusing that I was angrier than she was. Anyway, since we’ve been together, it’s different. She no longer sees Mapi as a threat, but simply as someone very important to me.

“Well, I don’t know... I felt like she was giving me dirty looks last time. Sorry, I might be imagining things.”

“Lucy has no problem with you, I assure you. She really likes you and knows what you mean to me. If it were otherwise, she would have told me, and I would have fixed things.”

“Okay...” she murmurs. “You love her, don’t you? I’ve never seen you so attached to someone like her.”

I breathe softly. Oh yes, I love her, and I spend all my time glued to her. I was never that person before, but she made me this way. In none of my previous relationships did I seek physical contact as I do now.

“Does it bother you?”

She looks at me for a moment. I can see the internal struggle she’s having. She doesn’t know how to respond, and it’s all the more unsettling. I give her a friendly nudge.

“Come on, spill it. We’re talking about it for a reason, after all.”

“I was very surprised,” she begins. “I think your Valentine’s Day made me jealous. Not romantically. Ingrid is wonderful to me, and I appreciate her more and more each day,” she quickly justifies. “But in terms of us, our relationship, our friendship...”

Now that she says it, it’s true that after I shared everything we did, her behavior changed. I frown at this realization. Without saying anything, she continues.

“I never knew how to give you the same things she does. Just look at the day you spent together. It’s obvious she thought of you first in her plans. I’ve never been able to do that for you. Not even for a day.”

“Mapi—”

“I know our relationship is different from yours. It was powerful in another way, and it was during another period. We were younger and a bit more carefree. But what she’s done with you in just a few months is just... impressive. She’s transformed you, and I feel lousy for not being able to give you the same support and help you grow like she has.”

Regret, remorse. That’s all I hear in her words, and now it’s my turn to feel bad. How did she get to the point of feeling so worthless? She doesn’t even realize how much she’s helped me. Her return after Feli sparked a lot of progress that she doesn’t seem to have noticed. I release my lip from between my teeth and reply without thinking.

“You have nothing to blame yourself for. You’re the one who gave me the most support before I joined this school. You did the hardest part by getting me out of my room.”

I smile just remembering it. She had to drag me, but she did it, and she stayed with me the whole time. It was her, and no one else, who accomplished that feat.

"I have to admit, being away from my problems was the best idea my mom ever had. You’ve never set foot in my school, but we all have our problems, often similar, sometimes completely different."

Korbin's situation comes to mind. She just never had the chance to grow up in a stable environment, which led to her circumstances. Just thinking about it makes me sick.

"I'm not saying you can't understand, but they teach us to open up, to trust each other. Like with Alexia, you know? We’ve confided in each other about our issues. Plus, we're also guided. Especially by Lucy, in my case, but not just her. It’s a collective thing, you see? It's not just Lucy who helped me evolve, as you said."

"And in all this, what happens to me?"

"What do you mean, what happens to you?" I teased. "You’re still my best friend, no matter what. Nothing will change that. Neither new friendships nor our new relationships. We’re still us."

"Good, I’m relieved," she said, clearly feeling better. "Because I’ve applied for a transfer for next year."

"Really?" I said, excited.

She had mentioned wanting to follow me, but hadn’t said what she was planning. Knowing she’ll be here next year makes me really happy. Even though the school keeps me busy, I miss her a lot.

"Of course! You’re not getting rid of me that easily," she giggled. "My teacher said there shouldn’t be any problem. The school in Manchester has a better reputation, but with my good grades, I should get accepted. He even said it would be better for me."

"That’s awesome!"

I hugged her tightly. She doesn’t have an official response yet, but I’m confident it will work out. Mapi is a very diligent student, even if it doesn’t always seem that way. After all, she’s doing what she loves.

"I’m really happy, honestly."

"Can I confess something else while we’re at it?" she asked, pulling away from my embrace. "But you won’t take it the wrong way, right?"

"What now?" I asked, holding back a small laugh.

"I used to wonder if Lucy would be enough for you," she admitted, making me frown. "That was before you were together. I thought she was too calm and too sensible. Not to mention she didn’t seem to enjoy parties. You just have to see how she reacted to last night’s party agai—"

"She wasn’t feeling well yesterday," I defended her immediately. "She had a migraine, and the party wasn’t the best for her, but she still wanted to come."

"Whatever," she said, waving her hand as if it didn’t matter. "That’s not the point, it was just an example. I thought she’d be boring for you in the long run. I talked about it with Ingrid before you were together, and she got mad, saying I didn’t know Lucy. And I have to admit, she was right."

Her last sentence brought me instant relief. I was already worried she might say she no longer saw me with Lucy, which would have been strange since she’s the one who kind of pushed us together.

"So, you’ve changed your mind?" I asked hesitantly, making her shrug.

"I have to admit she knows how to handle you," she replied with a small smile that made me laugh. "That’s all that matters, and if you’re happy with her, that’s what’s important."

"I am. She’s really sweet and adorable. I didn’t expect that either."

"Oh, really?" she said, surprised.

"Well, yeah… She’s always been caring towards me, but I found her so closed off before that I didn’t know what to expect if she ever opened up."

"I see… So how is it?"

"It’s really great. She’s confided in me little by little, but now, she’s so open that I can see her expressions, you know? That wasn’t the case before."

"Hmm, hmm," she smiled. "Are you sure it’s not you who finally opened your eyes to how she feels?"

"Of course not," I replied, gently hitting her arm, making her laugh.

"I’m telling you, Ona. She was already smitten the first time I saw her interact with you. I even told Lucy. You were just too oblivious to notice."

I blushed just thinking about it. We really were blind, according to our friends.

"Maybe you’re right… We’re together now," I said pensively. "You know, I wanted to use this vacation to get closer to her. I was really scared of my reactions when starting a new relationship," I confessed to her.

"You haven’t slept together yet, have you?"

"No," I grimaced. "Do you think Lucy will be patient with that? I’m worried."

"Yeah, don’t worry. Knowing her, she has the patience of a saint. If she needs it, I bet she’ll let you know."

"If you say so… Anyway, don’t scare me like that again. I really need your positive opinion, and you know that, right?"

"I know, yeah," she smiled. "And you have it. She even managed to make me jealous, and that’s saying something."

I chuckled, shaking my head. At least she’s not afraid to admit it. Others would have denied it. Not her, and I love that about her.

"And you, with Ingrid?" I changed the subject.

"She’s great, really," she answered instantly, clearly expecting the question. "Much better than Ana. She’s cool, we laugh a lot, and she’s laid back. Oh, and also, in bed, she’s pretty good."

"Oh, Maps, please, spare me the details."

"What? You don’t want to know?"

"No, thanks," I grimaced.

"Are you sure?"

She laughed, fully aware that this is one of the few topics we can’t discuss. I’m not prudish, but I’d rather not know what my ex does with her new girlfriends. Talking about it makes me feel like we’re back in the past, and I’d rather avoid that. After this little laugh, we both sighed softly. We really needed this conversation to clear the air.

"Looks like our wild nights are over now."

"Seems like it, yeah," I chuckled.

"I think I’m a bit scared of this new change, you know, becoming an adult, having responsibilities. Ingrid even says I often act like a child," she laughed, making me smile.

I put my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to me. She rested her head on my shoulder, accepting my embrace.

"We’ll do it together, don’t worry. Never one without the other."

She nodded and kissed my cheek afterward, making me smile. All she needed was reassurance. I regret letting things get to the point where she felt neglected and unheard. I’ll have to figure out how to balance things better in the future. I’ve already hurt her enough in the past, I don’t need to add anything else.

"I guess I owe Lucy an apology now."

"Oh, it’s not necessary."

"It is. Knowing you, you’ll tell her everything, so I might as well do it myself," she replied.

I laughed because she’s so right. I can’t hide anything from Lucy. Especially since she’s been glancing over at us, and I imagine she’ll have questions for me.

"And I’ll have to thank her too," Mapi said, drawing my attention back to her.

"For what?"

"Thanks to you two, I met Ingrid," she answered with a small smile. "We exchanged numbers to talk about you mainly, but we hit it off so well that we got closer. So, thank you too."

"It’s my pleasure if we helped you. Your happiness is important to me, you know that. Now that everything’s clear, how about a hug?"

"Damn right, I’ve been waiting for that."

I laughed as I barely had time to catch her in my arms for a tight embrace. I missed her touch. Mapi will always be the first person who helped me out of that dark place. She’s indispensable to me, and she should know that. I closed my eyes, savoring this moment that I had missed. It’s different from being with Lucy, but just as familiar.

"Come on, we should catch up with them before they start wondering where we are."

Now that she mentioned it, I realized we couldn’t see our girlfriends anymore. Instead, a small wooden cabin stood before us. I easily guessed it was the chalet where we were supposed to pick up our gear, thanks to the sign. I nodded and let her go in first. Our girlfriends were in line, so we joined them.

- "Well, what took you so long, girls?" Ingrid asked as we approached.

- "Sorry, we were just talking," Mapi explained as she pulled away from me to enjoy a hug from her girlfriend.

I nestled into Lucy's embrace, just as Mapi did with Ingrid. Lucy's expression was full of curiosity after I stole a kiss. I snuggled into her neck and whispered:

- "I'll explain later."

My answer seemed to satisfy her because she hugged me tightly and kissed my temple. I smiled as I watched the other couple interact. It was clear who was in charge between them, and it was a bit surprising. Normally, Mapi was the one who took control, but not in Ingrid's arms, it seemed. Given Ingrid's playful nature, I hadn’t expected her to take on that role.

- "When will you tell me?"

I turned my attention back to Lucy. It was only then that I noticed her impatience, which made me smile.

- "Be patient. You'll know everything tonight, I promise."

- "Hmm... Okay," she said, pouting adorably, which made me smile.

It was funny how eager she was to know. Since I’d become better at reading her expressions, I’d discovered many traits I hadn’t known about before. Curiosity was one of them. I admired her so much for being able to hide it and not bombard me with questions. That's probably what I would have done in her place, but she knew that would have made me run. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it. With these thoughts in mind, I stood on my tiptoes to kiss her again, hoping it would satisfy her for now. I could tell she was frustrated about not knowing our conversation, but I didn’t want to discuss it in front of the girls. It seemed my idea worked because she returned my kiss with a hidden smile.

- "It’s our turn," Ingrid pointed out.

We noticed she was right as we turned to the counter.

- "Can you help me pick out my equipment?" I asked Lucy. "I don’t really know what I’m doing."

- "Of course."

We walked forward with her hand resting on my waist. The receptionist handed us our gear based on Lucy’s instructions. I didn’t know anything about this, so I trusted her judgment.

- "Can’t we snowboard instead of skiing?" I asked when I saw a snowboard nearby.

- "Learn to ski first, will you?" she chuckled. "Snowboarding is much harder."

- "Really? But it’s just one board under your feet."

- "Exactly," she laughed. "It’s much harder to balance and stay on your feet. We’ll try it someday when you’ve mastered skiing."

- "So that means we’ll come back?"

- "We’ll go wherever you want, whenever you want, and as many times as you want, sweetheart."

I bit my lip at how affectionate she was becoming day by day. She had never been this sweet with me before. The tough, relentless Lucy was long gone, and I couldn’t even say which version I preferred now. I felt more and more important in her eyes, and that’s all I ever wanted.

- "Come on, let’s get going," she pulled me out of my daydream.

We thanked the man for his service, and the four of us headed outside with our equipment. We found a bench where we could sit and put on our skis. Aside from my grumbling, it was a pretty quiet moment. Lucy had a teasing smile as she watched me struggle. I had just managed to put on the boots she had chosen for me. I was surprised that she had picked the right size without even asking.

- "You could help instead of just laughing at me."

- "Of course," she said, her smile widening. "Since you asked so nicely."

- "Hey!" I protested, pouting.

- "I’m kidding."

As if she’d been doing this her whole life, she effortlessly got up and crouched down in front of me. She started by tightening the straps on my boots, which apparently weren’t tight enough for her. Then she placed the skis flat on the ground, and I finally understood the system when she positioned the tip of my foot in front of the clips. She then asked me to press down with my heel, and I heard my boot click into the ski. I did the same with the other one. At first, the sensation of having something under my feet was very strange, especially when I tried to slide them back and forth. The real fun was about to start. We exchanged a smile, as if she was thinking the same thing as I was when she stood up. She pecked my lips and held out her hands.

- "Come on, princess. It’s time to stand up."

- "Oh my God," I murmured as I wobbled the moment she pulled me to my feet.

The feeling was very weird. I probably would have slipped if Lucy hadn’t been holding me in her strong arms. She chuckled, gently pulling me closer. I regretted having such a bulky jacket on because I couldn’t feel her touch on my skin.

- "Okay... So what now?"

- "I’m going to let go and grab your poles."

- "And if I fall?"

- "You won’t fall," she laughed.

To make sure of it, she kept one arm around my waist as she moved to grab our poles. Once she had them, she let go of me and stood beside me. I glanced over at the girls who were watching us.

- "Okay," I said, taking a deep breath. "And now?"

- "Now we move forward."

I blinked as I saw Mapi following Ingrid. It was like she had been doing this forever. I parted my lips and looked at Lucy, who was laughing at me.

- "H-how did she do that?"

Lucy burst into laughter, which annoyed me. I had a feeling I’d be the last one today, and I hated that.

- "It’s not hard. It’s like walking. Just take small steps. It’ll help you get used to the skis and work on your balance. Then we’ll start sliding."

- "I’m suddenly not feeling so confident..."

- "Hey, it’ll be okay, alright? There will be falls and probably a lot of bruises tonight, but you’ll be fine. I’ll help you, and I won’t let you leave until you’ve made at least one descent."

- "Oh my God..." I muttered. "And what if I’m sore tonight?"

- "I have a little solution for that... But it’ll be up to you to decide when the time comes."

- "When you say things like that, it’s usually something I won’t like..."

- "Who knows... You’ll tell me tonight."

Wednesday, February 17th, 8:30 PM - Hotel Room.

All day, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Lucy’s suggestion would be. I turned it over in my mind a thousand times, hoping that in the end, it would be the jacuzzi we’d go to. As I had predicted, all my muscles were sore from this simultaneously disastrous and rewarding day. If I learned anything today, it’s that I’m a walking disaster. Though that’s not new, I was really bad at skiing. Once again, Lucy showed incredible patience with me. Unlike me, Mapi picked it up quickly. She’s always been more athletic and daring than me, so it wasn’t surprising. Lucy didn’t mind that we stayed at the bottom of the slope all day, while the girls and the rest of our friends who joined us after lunch went up to do runs. I think Lucy was happy we could spend some time together, uninterrupted for once. When we got back, I expected her to announce her idea right away, but she wanted us to have dinner with our friends first. It made me feel confused and reluctant, knowing that the pool had a closing time and would probably be closed by the time we were done. I was slightly disappointed since I had been dreaming about it all day, but now that I’m facing her real proposal, I don’t know how to react. I agreed, of course, but that didn’t make me any less nervous.

- "Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, I’d understand if you didn’t, you know. We’ve only been together for two weeks, and then-"

- "Luce, I told you I wanted to do it. Are you sure you haven’t changed your mind?" I half-joked.

The panic in her eyes disappeared for a moment, replaced by tenderness.

- "I haven’t. It’s just that I don’t want you to be scared or think I’m rushing things."

"We’re in swimsuits. What am I supposed to be scared of? We’ve already been in the pool, in a jacuzzi, and even in a spa. It’s not a bubble bath we’re going to take in swimsuits that’s going to scare me. »

- It's smaller, more intimate, and... private.

- That's what makes it even more romantic, right? I want us to spend some time together, just the two of us. For once, we actually have the time.

She giggles as she turns off the water that had been running until now when he gets halfway to the bathtub. To be honest, I'm in total panic inside. I can't even explain why. Lucy is everything you could want in a girlfriend. She didn't run away when I told her that I had isolated myself from the world for half a year. On the contrary, she wanted to prove to me that I'm no longer alone. Maybe it's because I know that this situation will bring us to an even deeper stage in our relationship. I push the thought away and speak.

- You getting in first? I murmur.

She nods softly, stepping one foot at a time into the tub. My eyes don't leave her for a second as she sits at the back of the tub. I hesitate for a moment, but her reassuring smile tells me I have nothing to fear. She's the only person I've never been afraid of, at least not in the context of a relationship. Of course, I fear her when she's in a black rage, especially at me, but never otherwise. I return her smile and join her. Instead of leaning my back against hers, I decide to snuggle up against her side. My tension quickly evaporates as my sore muscles relax and Lucy runs a hand through my hair, wrapping her other arm around me. The water is boiling hot, but there's nothing better after this cold day. She kisses my forehead with a satisfied sigh.

- Here we are, in this bath.

I giggle, burying my head in her neck. She had been dreaming about this, and now I finally understand why.

- Have you been dreaming of this moment all day too?

- You could say that... Did you know I wanted to do this?

- No, not the bath, I admit. But now that we're here, it was a very good idea.

And I mean it. The steam rising from the bath creates a strange atmosphere in the room. From where I'm sitting, I can see the mirror, which fogged up in no time. When I look down at the bath, I'm glad to see that the bubbles cover my bruised body.

- Do you know why Mapi's been acting weird lately? I start the conversation with a hint of amusement in my voice.

I break the silence now that we're alone, in the calm. Lucy hums slightly at my question.

- So there was a reason?

- In a way, yes...

I lift my head to meet her eyes with furrowed brows. I smile, finding her adorable like this. She always makes that face when something bothers her or when she doesn't understand what's going on.

- Hmm... So... What was the reason?

- Lots of things... Jealousy, worry, doubts...

- In what way? she asks, skeptical. She thinks I wouldn't take good care of you?

- No, that's not it.

I smile in amusement, detecting impatience in her movements. She knows Mapi's opinion matters to me. Just to tease her a little longer, I reluctantly get up to straddle her. She removes her hands from me, placing them on the edge of the tub while watching me with confusion. I lose track of our conversation, mesmerized by the beauty in front of me. The setting really enhances Lucy. My fingers trace her exposed neck. She had pulled her hair into a messy bun right after our meal. She wanted to be comfortable. I appreciate seeing her so natural. I might not be the first to see her like this, but at least I'm the first among the students at Camp Wiegman. So, she's no longer the terrifying instructor everyone fears. She's just my girlfriend, who grants me the privilege of seeing her true self. Our evenings alone are my favorite moments so far, even though I've also enjoyed the parties. She seems almost innocent and harmless, which is far from the case at school. I almost dread the moment we have to go back. I don't know how she'll react, nor how I'll react. We'll resume our roles, and I won't be able to enjoy her company in her room as I'll have to return to mine.

- What are you thinking about, looking at me so sadly?

My eyes, which were focused on her mouth where my fingers are now, rise to meet hers. Her excitement has faded into concern. I feel guilty for making her worry, just because my thoughts, which were positive before getting in the bath, suddenly veered to a darker side. It was stronger than me. The idea that we might not be able to live this normally anymore doesn't sit well with me. Especially not after the amazing week we've been having.

- Did I do something wrong? she asks, making me shake my head. Did Mapi say something she shouldn't have? she continues.

I shake my head again. Words fail me, preventing me from defending against things she might believe because of my silence. Unable to find the words, I lean in to kiss her. Hard. Though slightly hesitant, she kisses me back, her hands gently caressing my waist. I seek even more contact, but she stops me.

- Hey, hey, stop. I get that this environment can give ideas, but that's not the point of this evening.

Her words cool my ardor, and I blush, realizing what I've just done. How could I have gone so far with just one fleeting thought?

- S-sorry... I-I didn't mean to. I-I don't know what came over me.

- It's okay, really, she giggles. What were you thinking about to get carried away like that, hmm? You were looking at me with adoration before suddenly closing off.

- I'm afraid of not handling our return to school well.

Lucy arches an eyebrow in confusion. It's understandable. I'm jumping from one topic to another without any reason.

- Did Mapi mess with your head? she deduces, still unsure of what's going on.

- No! I quickly reply. Mapi just needed comfort. She was jealous that she couldn't comfort me the way you do.

- Oh. I didn't see that coming... I thought I was the problem.

- No. She just felt neglected. We've drifted apart because of the distance, but it'll be okay. And...

I pause for a moment, unsure if I should continue.

- And?

- Will you promise not to hold it against her? I ask, nervously biting my lip.

- Why would I hold it against her?

- Because I'm not sure you'll appreciate what she thought of you at first...

- Go on, she mumbles, her mood shifting.

I bite my lip again. I know I'm taking a risk, but I can't afford to stay silent. I promised myself to be honest with her.

- I think she still saw us as the teens we were, because she thought you were too calm and reasonable for me.

I watch her closely as I say all this. Her reaction is strange. It's as if she's suppressing her feelings again.

- If you say that's what she thinks, then I guess that's not how you feel?

Of course not. How many times do I have to tell you? You're everything I need, Lucy. Mapi understands that now. Especially after the Valentine's Day you planned for me. She's planning to apologize to you because she knows I would tell you. If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that I don't care about playing the reckless teenager anymore.

- OK... she murmurs. Thank you for being honest. I'll wait for Mapi's apology.

The tone of her voice isn't as cold as I expected. I understand that she doesn’t hold it against her. After all, she didn’t like her much at first either. If she says this, it's probably because she’ll use the opportunity to talk with her face-to-face.

- Thank you, I whispered at the thought. Thank you for everything.

- I love you.

My muscles relax at these simple words, which have become part of our daily routine. Lucy had promised to show me how much I mean to her, and for the past three days, that's all she’s done. I feel so loved, especially after struggling for so long to love myself.

- Say it again, please.

- I love you, my love.

This time, there’s a hint of amusement in her voice, but it doesn’t lessen the impact. She pulls me closer, returning us to our original position.

- Everything will be okay, alright? We'll figure things out. I’ll take care of us. But you, I want you to prioritize your future.

- You are my future, I murmured.

- I mean professionally, my love. I’ll take care of you like I promised, and I’ll handle our other relationships, like with Mapi if needed, but you have to focus on your studies first. Is that clear? Can you do that? It’s not that hard, right?

- No... It isn’t, as long as you’re by my side.

- I will be, no matter what. And how about we just enjoy our moment for once, hmm? You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.

- No, I don’t, but I understand why now. I wanted to thank you for being so patient with me. These past few days have been magical. I haven’t felt this at peace in someone’s arms in a long time.

- That’s all that matters then. That’s how I want you to feel with me. Not scared, or anxious, or lacking confidence, or uncomfortable... Just yourself.

- I am, I murmured. You’re the one who helped rebuild me. You’re probably the person I trust the most.

I take a deep breath at that thought. It’s frightening to depend so much on one person. But that’s my reality. I truly depend on Lucy. We both know that if she’s no longer in my life, I might spiral even worse than before. It happened once, and it wasn’t pretty. I could barely sleep at night or eat during meals, and it will happen again if she ever leaves me. I know that’s unlikely now, but even a one percent chance is terrifying.

- I don’t want to go back, I confided. You make me feel like I’m living a dream.

- I assure you, your dream is real, she teased. You’ll have to get used to living this peacefully.

- You have no idea how right you are, I murmured, snuggling even closer to her.

I close my eyes with a small, satisfied smile spreading across my lips. Yeah, I could easily get used to this new way of life.

- If Mapi kept us apart during our outings, it’s because she missed me, but also because she was seeking my attention out of fear that I’d leave her behind...

- I see, she sighed. There were other ways she could have shown it. Like, for example, talking to you about it.

- She knows she acted poorly, but my distance from her and my closeness to you affected her. She regrets it. In fact, we shouldn’t have involved everyone in this. I should’ve talked to her directly. I almost thought she had a fight with Ingrid.

- She didn’t, don’t worry. Ingrid mentioned it briefly at lunch, she reassured me.

A small sigh of relief escaped me. The last thing we need is for our little issues to affect their relationship.

- So, everything’s settled now? She’s going to leave us alone for the rest of the trip?

- I’ll make sure of it, I giggled.

- Good... So, back to you. Why do you understand how she feels?

- Because I’m afraid of our return to school...

- Babe, she sighed. We’ve already talked about this.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #ona batlle #barca femeni #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

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beyondthesefourwalls · 2 years ago

Text

Return Back Home to You

Summary: Five months after the accident that took his memory from him, Bradley gets the all clear to return to the sky. He thought he would be ecstatic to get back in the air, but all he can think about is how the last time he was in a plane, he almost didn’t come home to you. When he tells you he can’t handle doing that to you again, you remind him that all you need from him is to love you and do his best to always come home, and you’d figure out the rest together.

Word Count: 5.3K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (Forgetful Boy & Pumpkin from RYEWID)

Warnings: Angst. Smut. Oral. Anxiety. Fluff. Language.

Notes: This little (long) one shot was inspired by two requests I got during the TGM Blurb Party I hosted a few weeks ago:

Forgetful Boy & Pumpkin. Smut. Glitter. “You liked that, huh?” Forgetful Boy & Pumpkin. Angst. Glitter. “What do we do?”

This takes place between Part 10 and the Epilogue of Remember You Even When I Don’t. While it's not completely necessary to read that story before reading this, it will probably make a lot more sense if you do. I hope you enjoy!

______

Bradley gets the 100% all clear to return to his normal duties on a Friday. It’s late February, five months after his accident, and all of his scans and tests show nothing abnormal. He still doesn’t have all of his memories and there’s a chance he never will, but for all intents and purposes, he’s as healthy now as he was then.

He’s gone through flight simulations and recertifications and the last thing he needs to actually get back in the cockpit of the brand new F-18 with his name on it is his doctor’s stamp of approval. He hadn’t let himself think that today would be the day he got it, but he holds the paperwork in his hands, the scrawling signature there in black below a recommendation to return to regular duty, declaring him fit and ready.

All he has to do is turn it in, and it’ll be like nothing has changed.

But really, in a lot of ways, everything has changed. Even the things that had ultimately stayed the same. He’s not the same person he was before the accident that took his memory from him, even as they slate back into place piece by disorganized piece.

He sits in the parking lot for a long time before he finally turns the key to start the Bronco. He catches sight of the picture he has of the two of you stuck to his visor and suddenly he knows he has to make a detour before going back to base. Mav had given him three hours because Bradley had expected more tests and poking and prodding to be done, but his appointment had barely lasted an hour. He knew if anyone could help him work through the unexpected jumble of emotions he was feeling, it was you. He was regretting insisting you didn’t come with him this morning to begin with.

He makes a quick stop on the way, grateful when he sees that you hadn’t run any expected errands and your car is still in the garage when he gets home. You’re not downstairs when he goes inside, so he’s quick to toe off his shoes and head for the stairs. He can hear music playing when he reaches the landing and breathes a sigh of relief that you aren’t on a call. He can hear you at your desk typing away at your computer and when he gets to the doorway, you have the most adorable focused look on your face.

The sight of you still makes his heart beat a little bit faster, even as it immediately calms him, too. He hopes that never goes away.

“Hey!” you exclaim in surprise. You push your chair back and stand, immediately coming to wrap your arms around him. It’s strange that five months ago, a thick hesitation hung in the air between the two of you. Now it was second nature to press his lips to yours in greeting. “What are you doing home? How was your doctor's appointment?”

He goes in for another kiss instead of answering you right away, and you hum against his lips in approval.

“I brought you iced coffee,” he says, handing you the cup he had been holding that he stopped for on the way here from your favorite coffee shop.

“Thank you,” you murmur, eyeing him as you take a sip. You set the cup down on your desk and tilted your head at him. “What’s wrong?”

It still surprises him sometimes that you can read him so well. He’s always excelled at concealing his emotions, but you had been able to see right through him from the very beginning. He’s almost glad for it at this moment, because he had no idea how to bring it up. The anxiety that had calmed at first seeing you stirs in him again and with a deep breath, he holds the stack of papers he had received out to you. You take them with furrowed eyebrows. He watches as your eyes scan the document and knows the moment you see the recommendation by how they widen and a soft “oh” escapes you.

“Baby,” you breathe, looking at him now, “you got the all clear?”

He nods, suddenly feeling nervous. You’re quiet for a long moment, looking between him and the paper you’re gripping a little bit tighter now. He desperately wants to know what’s going through your head, but he keeps quiet and lets you process instead.

“Bradley,” you finally whisper. He’s startled to see tears start to shine in your eyes even as a smile brightens your face. “This is so great.”

The words fall out of his mouth before he can really think them through or stop them. “Is it?”

“What do you mean? You’re healthy, baby; of course it’s great.”

Bradley twists his wedding band on his finger as his heart starts to pound. His inner turmoil must read on his face because you set the papers down on your desk next to your coffee and step to him again, resting your hands on his chest. His wrap around you automatically in return. “What’s going through your head right now?”

“I’m happy everything is okay,” he promises you. He would never want you to think he’s anything but grateful to still be here with you, and that’s true.

“But?” you prompt.

There’s a window seat in your office. It’s normally resolved for Florry when she wants a good sun spot, and it’s one that you curl up in when you can tolerate only working on one screen, or when you’ve been sitting at your desk chair for too long. He leads you over to it and you don’t hesitate to crawl into his lap when he sits. You’re patient with him as you always are and you play with the hair on the back of his head as he contemplates what he wants to say.

“I get to fly again.”

He’s surprised when his voice cracks. He clears his throat and breathes out heavily, picking at the soft material of your sweater. “I fought so hard to be an aviator. It was all I ever wanted. I used to hate even going a week or two without flying. This is the longest I’ve gone in over 15 years without being in the cockpit and I-I thought I’d be more excited. And I am. But I’m also…I..”

“Scared?” you offer softly at his hesitation. He meets your eyes, his own wide and confused, and nods. With a sigh, you let your forehead rest against his. Your noses brush and he lets his dark eyes flutter shut for a moment as you center him.

“The last time I was in a plane, I almost left you,” he continues. Though he said it quietly, you flinch against him like he yelled it, and he tightens his grip on you. “I can still feel every ounce of terror that I felt when the canopy wouldn’t open. All I could think about was that we didn’t have enough time and there was still so much we needed to do together. So much that we talked about and hadn’t got to, and I was breaking my promise about growing old with you. And then I woke up in the hospital and I had no idea who you were.”

A tear slips down your cheek and he feels one drip from his eyes, too. He breathes you in slowly. “You looked so broken. And even then, when I didn’t know who you were, I knew you meant something to me. And I knew I was the reason you were hurting. I still see it in my nightmares sometimes. I’m so sorry.”

“Baby,” you cooed, shaking your head. You removed your hands from his hair and cupped his cheeks instead, gently encouraging him to lift his eyes and look at you. “We’ve talked about this. You have nothing to be sorry for. It was an accident. And I’d do it all again for you. I’d do anything for you.”

“But what if next time it’s worse? A funeral instead of a hospital.” You gasp at his words, but Bradley presses on. “I want to fly. I do. But I don’t think I can feel that fear again. And I can’t put you through something like that, Pumpkin. I can’t.”

The thought alone makes him shake and feel like the room is closing in on him a little bit. He wasn’t lying when he said he often sees the moment you realized he had lost his memory of you. It’s raw devastation and shock played in high definition over and over again when he closes his eyes. Even then, it had cut him deeply. You were everything to him. He knew that before, and he knew it now. Relearning everything about you and how he felt about you - really, getting to fall in love with you all over again - had reaffirmed that you were the most important thing in his life. What kind of husband would he be if he willingly risked the chance of you having to go through that all over again? And selfishly, he didn’t want to go through that again.

He wanted to spend forever with you.

You sigh his name and press a kiss to his lips. “I’m scared too, sweetheart. I’ve always been a little bit scared of what you do. Since the very beginning. Do you remember that?”

He racks his brain for that particular memory, slowly nodding his head. Yes, that was something he knew.

“I knew the risks that came along with falling in love with you, Bradley. But it never for one single moment made me hesitate. I love every single part of you, and that includes the very large part of you that includes flying and the Navy, even if it scares me a little bit. I’d never ask you to quit. I don’t want you to quit, not if it’s because it’s what you think I want. All I’ve ever asked is that you do whatever you can to make it home to me, and I know without a doubt that you will always, always do that. Right?”

“Of course I will,” he says immediately, not even needing to think about it.

“That’s all I need,” you tell him, brushing your lips together before pulling back so you can look at him. “I’ll support anything you do, baby. Anything, always. But I don’t want you to alter the rest of your life because of fear, or because of me. Not without at least trying first.”

“So what do I do?” Bradley asks softly, “what do we do?”

“I think you need to get back in that jet of yours and fly, baby. And we take it from there, together. Like we always do.”

______

Fridays typically aren’t hop days. Still, as soon as Bradley hands him his forms, Mav offers to make an exception and get him in the sky before the end of the day, if that’s what he wants. He considers for a moment before forcing a smile and telling his godfather and Captain that they might as well just start fresh on Monday. Bradley thinks Mav can read the expression on his face and the apprehension he’s feeling, but he’s glad when he doesn’t push him on it. He reassures him that Monday is a good plan, and that if for whatever reason that didn’t work, they’d have plenty of other opportunities, too.

He spends the rest of the day in the small closet he was assigned as an office, pretending to focus on the administrative reports he’d been working on. His conversation with you plays through his mind on a loop, and he knows you’re right. He needs to try. But even if he promised you he wouldn’t let fear dictate his decisions, he's thankful for the delay nonetheless.

As it typically does with his friends, word spreads quickly that he was given the green light to get back in the air. His phone goes off with texts in the groupchat from everyone in rapid succession, and while he strategically avoids running into anyone on base, he knows it will be short lived since you both had already agreed to meet everyone at the Hard Deck for drinks tonight. By the time he makes it back home, he’s toying with the idea of canceling so he can delay all of those interactions until Monday too. But you’re waiting for him in the kitchen in a pretty dress with your hair and makeup already done, and he’s not going to let the effort you put in go to waste.

“I didn’t really feel like cooking,” you explain after he kisses you. “I thought we could go out for dinner before we meet up with everyone?”

“Looking as beautiful as you do, we can go anywhere you want.”

You roll your eyes, but you laugh, too, and it’s one of his favorite sounds. He kisses you again before going to take a quick shower.

You had been talking about pizza all week, but you end up splitting two different entrees at his favorite Mexican restaurant instead, sipping on frozen margaritas and indulging on too much chips and queso. You insist that your craving changed, but he suspects you changed your mind just for him after the morning he had. He kisses you a little longer at the table than he probably should, but the lime and tequila tastes better from your lips.

The meal passes by quicker than he likes and he has his hand on your thigh as he drives the two of you to the Hard Deck. He notices you fiddling with your ring, which has always been a nervous tick of yours. When you start sneaking glances at him, Bradley clears his throat.

“This isn’t just drinks at the Hard Deck, is it?”

You flash him a guilty look from the passenger seat. “Nat didn’t fill me in until right before we went to dinner. They really wanted to throw a party for you to celebrate your clean bill of health. I told her to try and reel it in and that you didn’t want all that attention but…you know how they are.”

Yes, Bradley knew exactly how his friends were. Supportive to a fault for both successes and failures, and they hadn’t been shy at telling him how they were itching to get him back in the sky ever since he started on administrative duty.

When his silence stretched on a little too long, you spoke up again, “We can go home, baby. They’ll understand.”

He wishes it was as easy as that. But he had promised you that he would try, and he knew his friends had good intentions with whatever they were planning. Truly, he should feel special that he had people who cared enough to do things like this for him; it still took him by surprise sometimes, considering how he had forgotten it. So with a sigh, he shakes his head and turns his palm over on your thigh. Once you intertwine your fingers with his, he squeezes lightly.

“It’s fine. Just stick with me tonight?”

“Always, baby.”

______

If this was Nat’s best attempt at reeling it in, Bradley’s a little scared at what it would have been if she didn’t. There are streamers and balloons damn near everywhere, not to mention the handmade banner reading “Roosters CAN Fly” that hangs on the wall. He’s not sure how they got Penny to agree to let them decorate her bar like this on a Friday night. As soon as the two of you walk through the door, he’s greeted with yells and a round of applause, along with a confetti gun that’s shot in his direction and leaves both of you covered in glitter. He’s handed a drink before he can make too much of a fuss over it. He doesn’t let go of your hand until he has to, accepting hug after hug and congratulations after congratulations. He feels a little overwhelmed, but he’d be lying if he didn’t feel warm, too.

“Hope you’re reading to get your ass kicked first thing Monday morning,” Jake greets him with a hard pat on his back. “You’ve been locked in that bird cage for so long, Rooster, are you sure you even remember how to climb into the plane?”

“Fuck off,” he scoffs, “I’m still a better pilot than you.”

Jake smirks at him widely, handing him a fresh bottle when he had run empty. Bradley doubts he’ll end up paying for a single drink tonight. “Guess we’ll see next week.”

He clinks his bottle against his in acknowledgement.

A lot of the night goes by just the same. Everyone is so happy for him getting this final seal of approval that he can get his old life back and so excited for him to officially be back on the squad in every sense. There’s already talk of what training course they’d run and who all would have the opportunity to get in the air with him on his first day or the rest of the week. Everyone is eager, not doubting him or his ability for a moment, and he starts feeling more of the excitement he had expected when he was handed the verdict this morning. When he meets your eyes from across the pool table, some of the tension he had felt at letting you down loosens around his heart, because you’re looking at him like you’re proud of him. He opens his arms for you and you make your way over to him without any further prompting, allowing him to hold you against him. You stay with your back against his chest for the remainder of the conversation he’s in, and for a long time after that, too.

By the time you decide to head home, it’s a little before midnight. You’ve both had a little more to drink than anticipated, and while neither of you are drunk, you decide to grab an Uber home and plan to come get the Bronco in the morning instead. You sit in the middle of the blue Toyota Camry that had picked you up, snuggled against his side. You ghost your lips across his neck and your breath on his skin makes him tingle all over when you speak. His arm tightens around your shoulder, trying to pull you closer.

“You looked like you ended up having a good time.”

“I did,” he confirms, keeping his voice quiet in the effort of some sort of privacy. “More than I thought I would.”

“Do you feel better about Monday now?” you asked. You let your fingers dance across his denim covered thigh. He felt his cock stirring in his jeans at your touch.

“I do feel better about it,” he says. He leans down so his lips brush your ear and loves how you shiver for him. “I feel great about what’s going to happen tonight, though.”

“Mmm, and what’s going on tonight?”

He knows that you’re trying to be coy. He nips at your earlobe, smirking at the small gasp you let out. He risks a glance into the front seat, but their driver is singing along to the music on the radio under his breath, completely ignoring them in the backseat. Still, Bradley lowers his voice as quietly as possible as he whispers to you, “I’m going to get you in our bed, and remind you how thankful I am for you, and how ready I am to marry you again soon. I’m going to make you come so hard that you’ll be screaming for me, Pumpkin.”

Your nails dig into his thigh and you bite your lip to contain the moan you want to let out. In the darkness of the passing streetlights, he sees your eyes flutter shut. He had remembered quickly after your - second - first time together that you loved when he talked to you like this, and it was always guaranteed to get you going. He continues whispering all the things he wants to do to you as the driver turns into your neighborhood. When he knows your street is coming up, he dares to let the arm draped over your shoulder slip a little lower, squeezing your covered breast in the palm of his hand before flicking your nipple with his fingers.

“And you’re going to love every second of it, sweetheart.”

He swallows the sound you threaten to make before it can escape with a kiss. When the car slows to a stop at the end of your driveway, he thanks the driver before helping you out of the car. You’re a little wobbly on your feet at first and he knows it’s not from the alcohol. He sets a hand at the small of your back and leads you up the driveway and to the front porch. He’s anxious to get you inside and fulfill everything he said he was going to do to you. You’re a little less patient, pressing your body up against his as he searches his keys to find the one for the front door.

“Another minute in that car and the driver would have been tipping us,” you tell him, running your hand down his chest and cupping him through his jeans. You press a kiss to his throat as you squeeze, and Bradley smirks through a groan as he finally gets the right key in the door.

“You liked that, huh?”

You hum in agreement as you work your lips and tongue over his skin. “I like you.”

“Just like?” he asks, mock offended as he gets the door open. You squeal when he picks you up and carries you inside, kicking it shut and locking it behind him, but never letting you even come close to falling. He holds you up right there in the entryway; your hair tickles his cheeks when it falls around him like a curtain as you look down.

“Maybe a little more than like,” you concede with a shrug, a mischievous glint in your eyes that he loves so much.

“What do I do to get upgraded?”

“Take me to bed and maybe we can find out.”

The words are barely out before he’s shifting his hold on you to have you draped over his shoulder instead. He can’t resist the playful smack to your ass he delivers, and you’re laughing as he carries you up the stairs. He narrowly avoids tripping over Florry, who is laying at the top looking at both of her parents like they’re crazy, but she scrambles away and Bradley makes it to the master bedroom without incident.

You bounce on the mattress when he drops you down on it, immediately following behind you so you’re laid underneath him. You’re still giggling and he can’t help but laugh with you. He runs his fingers through your hair, smiling at the flecks of gold and silver that’s still there from when it was thrown over the two of you upon your arrival at the bar.

“You have glitter stuck in your hair,” he tells you.

“What can I say baby, you make me sparkle.”

He snorts, and he knows how unserious you are by how your laughter increases too as you pull his face to yours. “That was terrible.”

The drinks from the night are still simmering in your system, even if the buzz has dissipated significantly from the drive home and the lust both of you are feeling. He loves how playful and carefree the two of you can be, even in the most intimate of moments. It still shakes him to his core that for a moment, he lost this feeling. But it’s made him appreciate you and all the memories you create together all the more.

You smile against his jawline, peppering kisses along his skin until you end at his lips. “You love it.”

“I do,” he says, very matter-of-fact, and your smile grows. “Do you? Have I been upgraded from like to love yet?”

“You’re getting there,” you joke, raising an eyebrow in challenge and glancing down at both of your bodies, still completely covered. “You might get there faster if you get naked, though.”

He rises from the bed to quickly strip himself of his clothes and starts trying to tug at yours at the same time. You laugh and swat at his large hands to do it yourself. He gets momentarily distracted watching you shimmy out of your dress and underwear without ever leaving the bed, but focuses on kicking his jeans away and toeing off his socks when you lay back, watching him; he never wants to keep you waiting.

Bradley returns to the bed and kisses his way down your body once he joins you in your state of undress, spreading your legs for him so he can lay between them. He curls his arms around your thighs to hold you just the way he wants you, completely open for his enjoyment. He latches his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves, nose brushing against the soft skin of your pelvis, and your hips raise at the sensation. Your hands take residence in his hair, effectively holding him against you.

“Bradley.”

He’ll never get enough of how good you taste. He alternates between long licks of your pussy and sucking on your clit. He does his best to take his time, wanting to draw out your pleasure, but he can tell you’re just as eager for him to be inside of you as he is. He reasons that he can spend the entire morning tomorrow with his head buried between your legs to make up for how quickly he’s going to make you cum now. He spells out your name with his tongue and hums against your clit and you start to tremble. Your nails scratch at his scalp and tug at his hair as you yell his name, just as he promised you that you would.

He crawls back up your body as you come down, dragging his throbbing cock through your wetness, but not sliding into you yet. “How about now, Pumpkin?”

“What?”

He can’t help but smirk at the dazed look on your face, knowing he’s the one who put it there. “Do you love me?”

“Yes,” you breathe, clutching at his arms. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Your voice breaks off as he sinks into you. You’re so tight around him, gripping him like a vice, and he gives you a moment to adjust once he bottoms out. He can feel the aftershocks of your previous orgasm still shooting through you. It’s tempting to start moving just to see you immediately go into another orgasm, but he wants to take his time with you now that he’s buried as deeply as he is.

“Okay?” he rasps. You lean up and lick at his mustache, which he knows is coated in your wetness. He groans and falls to his forearms, pushing his body closer to yours. “Pumpkin, tell me I can move.”

“Make me scream, baby.”

Bradley pulls out almost the entire way before slamming back into you. Both of you moan at the feeling. He finds a rhythm easily, keeping his movements tantalizing slow. There is no other feeling in the world like being with you, especially like this. You’re so warm and tight around him, your walls velvety and sucking him in with every thrust. It’s like you were made just for him.

“Please,” you whimper. At your pleading, he rolls his hips in a way that makes you keen. With little warning, he’s pounding his hips into yours. Every gasp and moan has him fucking you faster and harder, and when he knows you’re getting close, he rolls the two of you so you’re on top. You nearly choke on the moan of pleasure you let out. His fingers grip your hips tightly as you immediately begin to bounce on his cock, meeting every downward movement with an upward thrust of his own. Your nails scratch down his chest in a way he knows he’ll be able to see in the mirror tomorrow, just the way he likes it. You look so glorious above him like this.

“Come on, baby. Scream for me.”

Bradley gives one more targeted thrust of his hips and you do just that. His name echoes throughout the room, joining the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Your pussy clenches around him as your orgasm rocks through your body. He rolls the two of you again so that you’re beneath him and he joins you over the edge with only a few more sharp grinds of his hips.

You shower together afterwards, washing away the sweat from your bodies and the glitter from your hair. You drop to your knees for him when he’s massaging in your conditioner for you, smiling up at him and telling him not to miss any strands before wrapping your lips around him and swallowing him down. He helps you dry it afterward as a thank you.

When you’re laying in bed, your back pressed to his chest and his face buried in your neck, he breaks the peaceful silence that had overtaken you as sleep starts to pull you in.

“I’m always gonna try and come home to you, Pumpkin. You know that?”

You turn in his arms so you’re facing him and press a kiss to his bare chest, right above his beating heart. “I know.”

————

Pumpkin🧡: You’re gonna do so well, sweetheart. I love you, and I’m so damn proud of you.

“You ready for this?”

Bradley stares at the text you had sent him not too long ago for another moment, memorizing every word and taking strength in them. He rubs his thumb over your contact picture at the top of the chat before locking his phone. With a deep breath, he stands from the bench he’s been sitting on in the tower. Mav is looking at him expectantly.

“You don’t have to do this today, Bradley,” his godfather says quietly, taking his silence as hesitation. But Bradley shakes his head and reaches for his helmet bag.

“Yes I do. I’m ready.”

Being back in the cockpit is perhaps the most familiar thing he’s encountered in the last five months. It’s a different plane, of course, but everything is the same. He takes several deep breaths as he goes through his preflight checks and when he loads himself into the plane and the Tower clears him for takeoff, he momentarily wants to back out. But someone had the foresight to tape a picture of the two of you near his control panel, the exact one that was in his last plane, and he knows this is what he has to do.

It’s a beautiful day for flying, not a cloud in the sky. The moment Bradley becomes airborne, he feels like a piece he didn’t even know was missing just slotted back into place. He can’t help the smile that takes over his face or the happy laughter that bursts from him. He hadn’t let himself really miss it, but just like being with you, it feels so natural being up in the air, so right. He doesn’t stop smiling the whole time he’s in the sky.

Bradley grabs his phone as soon as he’s able, your message thread still pulled up when he unlocks the device.

Back on solid ground. I can’t wait to come home to you. I love you.

------

Notes: I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I did writing it. I've missed these two so much 💚

Thanks Mak and Em for your help as always!

RYEWID Epilogue

RYEWID Masterlist

Masterlist

Tag List (please let me know if you’d like to be removed or added!) : @roosterforme - @mak-32 - @hoyaharper - @wildxwidow - @gretagerwigsmuse - @bradshawburner - @iamaslytherin0 - @lilyevanswhore - @too-fangirl-to-fuction - @fav-fanficssss - @benhardysdrumstick - @fandomxpreferences - @acatwriteshere - @1234-angelika - @double-j - @cocoskween - @sunflowersteves - @teacupsandtopgun - @littlezee80 - @sometimesanalice - @je-suis-prest-rachel - @khaylin27 - @infamous-reindeer - @hotch-meeeeeuppppp - @sarahjoestewy-blog - @sunnysidesidra - @notroosterbradshaw - @yanna-banana - @inthestars-underthesun -@avengersfan25 - @wkndwlff - @zbeez-outlet - @lt-spork - @indynerdgirl - @loveforaugust - @mssleepy876b

@kassieesworld - @luckylexie - @lovemesomevesey - @mizzzpink - @books-for-summer - @a-serene-place-to-be - @deviltsunoda - @tv-fanatic18 - @memoriesat30 - @melody-death - @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog - @dabisblackprincess - @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy - @realdirectionx - @waywardhunter95 - @myownworstenemyyy - @sexualparkour - @sadpetalsstuff - @almostgenerallyalways -@alilstressyandlotdepressy - @14readwritedraw96 - @ccbb2222 - @taytaylala12 - @alittlechaotics-blog - @starkleila

@shelbycillian - @mavrellover91 - @vici111 - @merishfit - @plaper1 - @lunamooncole - @pariahsparadise - @bunny-nonnie - @blackwidownat2814 - @huang-the-geek - @jpgliv - @bluelicious - @loveyhoneydovey - @pisupsala - @nuvoleincielo - @olivezeppelin - @jynxmirage - @shanimallina87 - @ouralcohol - @lumpypoll - @discowitchyy - @bellaireland1981- @princessmiaelicia - @eighthwvnder - @floydflys - @smile-child-13 - @rashelruby10 - @csoutsider - @cowboybarbie - @haydensith - @itsizzythebell - @phantomxoxo - @myhealthymarvelobsession - @winterrebel04

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nurgletwh · 4 months ago

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Update part two (this is the rest of it, there isn’t any more… at the moment O.o).

February 2024

It took all of two days for my BP to return to my ‘normal’ (the value I expected and where it’s been for a few years now).

It took over a week for me to feel mostly better, and two to approach feeling normal.

Chug away through the rest of the month, but I’m not energetic at all.

March 2024

Nothing super-exciting, although I slowly but surely feel more and more drained—almost exactly the way I felt when I went in because my blood sugar was high. Which was very confusing, because it was great.

Late March-April 2024

I felt awful again. I could barely get the energy up to do anything, and I was back to sleeping all the time. 14-16 hours per day on the weekend, falling asleep in my chair when I got home from work, waking up enough to crawl into bed and go right back to sleep for the night. Which also adds up to 14-16 hours per day.

Warning: diet talk

———

Remember how I started Ozempic? It does weird things to how I perceive hunger. Add that to how well I remember to eat and…

At some point I realized that in the last three days the only things I’d eaten each day were a couple of pieces of toast w/peanut butter for breakfast, nibbled on jerky for lunch, and maybe ate some more toast for dinner.

Thinking back further, I couldn’t figure out a recent time frame where I had done better than that. I had weighed myself in early February, and remembered wondering if dropping 25lbs. (11.3kg) in eight weeks was a good idea.

Shit.

(FYI: no*, it isn’t.)

So I got my exhausted ass out of the house and grabbed a case of Ensure, multivitamins, and other snacky crap I knew I’d eat. My goal was to get things back together enough to get the energy to start fixing my diet, nothing more. I knew aiming higher wouldn’t work until after I could do something besides work and nap.

(*Experts recommend an initial weight-loss goal of 5% to 10% of your starting weight within 6 months. For me, it should have taken nearly seven months to hit that 10%. Granted, these rates are for ‘unassisted’ dieting.)

———

It took all of three days for me to feel significantly better. Not great, but better. I still didn’t have much energy, but my sleeping patterns altered drastically. I was still napping after work, but I would wake up two hours later and accomplish something before going to bed. I didn’t accomplish much, but it was more than sleeping and more sleeping.

Things slowly got better, but again, getting to “ok” was faster than getting back to “normal.”

I know I dropped off the face of the earth, but it felt like every time I announced that things went wonky but I was feeling better now and put out a few chapters, things would blow up again. I wanted to make sure things were better this time.

Which was a poor choice; I should at least have posted something that said I was fucked up but working on it. I apologize for that lack of communication, although things did blow up again…

April 26, 2024

TORNADO.

A FUCKING TORNADO WENT RIGHT THROUGH OUR WORKSITE.

FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK!!!

I know I posted about it. It wasn’t very strong (HA!) by the time it came over the hill and destroyed the house at the top of it, merely (MERELY!!) tossing over a few rail cars and flipping a few semi-trailers.

We got lucky. This very same tornado absolutely wrecked Elkhorn (west of Omaha, NE).

I’ve stated I live and work in the Omaha area, so I’m not too worried about posting this, but here is an overlay of that tornado’s path on top of Apple Maps with my little blue dot while sitting at my desk.

May 2024

Most of May went fairly smoothly. I even got a little writing done!

Unfortunately, I had fallen so far behind on projects at work during all of the above that I was now trying to get caught up. Said project was over four months late at this point. I was working a bit late (not crazy-late, but about an extra hour most days) while still drained, so I didn’t have a whole lot of extra mental energy for writing.

I was, however, finally back to plotting and planning! Yay! Progress!

Until… (is anyone shocked at this point?)

The Friday before Memorial Day I felt a bit drained.

I woke up Saturday with a headache, feeling achy and sore. It didn’t get better, so I took my temperature around noon. 100.1ºF.

Wonderful.

I took a Covid test (that’s my default action to feeling crappy now), but it came back negative. Note that I wasn’t coughing, and I didn’t feel particularly short of breath or anything.

Nothing improved over Sunday, but it didn’t change much, either.

Same for Monday (Memorial Day). But this now made three days with a fever (also three consecutive negative Covid tests).

I agreed to @grumpyoldsnake’s and their friend’s demands to get my ass to a doctor the next day if I still had the fever, although I really wasn’t feeling too bad other than achy. Note: still no coughing (I promise this is important).

I woke up in the middle of the night when I heard something that sounded like a goddamn goose in my bedroom.

Have you ever woken yourself up by making some weird-ass noise that you then can’t duplicate? Even though you know you made it?

I was able to duplicate it. Without much issue. It fell under “well, that’s odd,” and I went back to sleep.

A bit later I woke up to a different weird noise, but I was sidetracked by what I heard and felt after I coughed a few times. My chest was making a sound like a freshly opened pop can. When my mouth was open, it was even worse. I could feel it bubbling away (it didn’t hurt).

Fuck.

Guess what?

PNEMONIA!!

Fuck my life.

Prior to Friday, I hadn’t been sick. They tested me for the flu; that was negative.

Pneumonia is almost always a secondary infection, not primary. You have a cold, or Covid, or bronchitis, and it turns into pneumonia when bacteria settle into your irritated bronchi.

Me, on the other hand…

I never really coughed all that much. Reviewing the blood oxygen data from my Apple Watch, I could peg when the infection started really kicking in, although it looks like something started about a week prior to that (when I did a round-trip plane trip, spending five or six hours on a plane and in an airport two days in a row…).

It took a week to get to a place where my breathing to start feeling easier, nearly two before the oxygen levels started crawling back up.

I did start coughing.

And coughing up… liquid. It was the weirdest sensation. I’d cough, and end up with a mouthful of what felt like slightly thick water. It didn’t really taste, and was nearly colorless.

I coughed that shit up for nearly three days.

I never coughed up the stuff that had any sort of color, although it did get thicker and more ‘traditional’ for stuff you cough up when you get sick. Which puts to lie that you can tell you have a chest infection by the color of the crud you cough up. :-/

It took another nearly two weeks after finishing the ten days of antibiotics to feel like my breathing was normal. The first day back to work was one hell of a reality check, though. I hadn’t been moving around much, and I knew I was short of breath, but I made it all of fifty feet from my car, then about ⅓ of the way up the stairs to my office before I had to stop. I couldn’t catch my breath and was dizzy.

That was the first time I thought, “that could have killed me.”

Not walking up the stairs, but what led to me standing on the stairs, gasping like a landed fish.

It was emphatically hammered home when I made a joking comment to a coworker that it thankfully wasn’t that bad.

Her response?

“Oh, no. Your x-ray was bad.”

>.<

I’ve been getting better. My nutrition went sideways again due to being utterly distracted, but I think that is fairly understandable. :-P

I refuse to say “I’m doing fine now!!”

Fate doesn’t need the temptation.

I hope to get back to writing. I hope even more that I can tackle the monster my inbox has become (both at AO3 and my personal email, which has been just as neglected).

Take care, everyone. Stay healthy.

#health #my health #death mention #tw: diet #tw: weight loss

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ofliterarynature · 8 months ago

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FEBRUARY 2024 WRAP UP

[loved liked ok nope dnf (reread) book club*]

The Djinn Waits a Hundred Years • The Memory Librarian • Pixels of You* • Arch-Enemies • Moby Dyke • Pip Bartlett’s Guide to Magical Creatures • A Sinister Revenge • Lud in the Mist • Crying in H Mart • Something Close to Magic • Hula • (Renegades) • The Divorce Colony • Foundryside • Earthlings • A Far Wilder Magic

total: 13 books (12 audiobook, 1 print)

Not as many books this month! And not just because February has fewer days, I was really in a funk this month and struggling to pay attention to my audiobooks (and enjoy them). You wouldn't think there's such a thing as too many books, but I think the overtime hours at work are hitting their peak mental health destruction. Here's to hoping things improve in March!

The Divorce Colony (4.5 stars) - genuinely can't believe this was my 3rd nonfic of the year already! I picked a print copy of this up at a library sale in December after hearing about divorce colonies in the early 20th century on a recent episode of the 99% Invisible podcast. Turns out this book was actually about the beginning of the moment that took place in Sioux Falls, South Dakota in the 1800's. Western states had shorter residency periods and less strict divorce laws, so women (and the occasional man) would travel west and live there for several months in order to obtain a divorce. This book tracks the movement through the stories of 4 of the more infamous cases to make the papers, and does an incredible job of weaving in the surrounding political and religious discussions. Would recommend, and has a great cover to boot!

Renegades (3 stars) - a reread, and for some reason it was torture. I originally read this back in 2018 and loved it, and wanted to tackle it again and actually finish the rest of the series. But I kept getting worked up and frustrated this time around! It kept trying to take itself seriously while also being very YA and kind of superhero-camp, and I was absolutely overthinking it lol. I found the strength to press on into book two, Archenemies (3.5 stars). I liked it a bit more! Something about it being new, the story being a bit more settled and maybe getting a better grasp on its message/politics, the characters growing more, me figuring out that I shouldn't listen to the audiobook for more than an hour or so at a time, lmao. Not great, but fun, and possibly worth reading? I'll keep y'all updated when I finish book 3.

Hula (5 stars) - incredible. Part generational family story, part history, part discussion of what it means to be Hawaiian, culturally and legally. Not always the easiest of reads, but it was so so worth it. It was also doing something very interesting with parts of the narration voiced by a collective "we" (culture/community?) that I would love to get a look at in print. Highly recommend, I'll definitely be getting myself a copy.

Something Close to Magic (4.5 stars) - an absolute delight! The Gail Carson Levine comp on this one is not entirely unearned, anyone who's a fan of fairy tale type fantasies will enjoy this, I had a great time! Very interestingly, it has characters who are in their mid to late teens, but is written in a way where they're still allowed to be young, to the point I'm surprised it didn't get shoehorned into MG instead of YA. If the author writes any more of these I'd be happy to read them.

Crying in H Mart (3.5 stars) - nonfic number 4! I'm sure everyone's heard of this one by now, which is why I finally picked it up. It's fine (which is why it got an extra .5 star), but on the scale of take it or leave it, I'd leave it. It just wasn't for me and I kind of wish I'd dnf'd it. A great cover though.

Lud-in-the-Mist (3.5 stars) - this one seems to be considered a sort of early precursor to fantasy and fairy tale type stories from the early 20th century, and I was eager to try it! While I definitely don't think it would feel out of place amongst it's more recent fellows (think the Last Unicorn, Robin McKinley, DWJ, etc), I absolutely could not get into it. Probably the chief recipient of "my brain doesn't want to cooperate, sorry," so maybe I'll give it another shot someday.

A Sinister Revenge (4 stars) - enjoyable as always! Not to hide this deep in my reviews or anything, but have the Emily Wilde people tried Veronica Speedwell yet?

Pip Bartlett's Guide to Magical Creatures (3 stars) - This one's been sitting unread on my shelf for a while, and since I was on a bit of a Maggie Stiefvater run, I figured it was perfect! Well. Unless you are like 7, this was so bad. Not good. Having previously read and not liked a book by Maggie's co-author Jackson Pearce, I think it would not be unreasonable for me to assume she did most of the writing while Maggie did the illustrations - if the audiobook had been any longer than 4 hours I'd have absolutely DNF'd it, and I have no intention of continuing the series.

Moby Dyke: An Obsessive Quest to Track Down the Last Remaining Lesbian Bars in the Country (4.5 stars) - part of me was wondering what I was doing trying this lol, not being someone who drinks or goes to bars, OR, as previously mentioned, is not the biggest fan of memoirs. It was not, as I hoped, also part research project, but it is a travelogue, and as a consequence has a strong narrative thread. It also has a lot of discussions about issues in the LGBTQ+ community, and overall I really liked it once I figured out what it was doing!

Pixels of You (3.5 stars) - a very short sapphic rivals-to friends-to lovers graphic novel about a human-form AI and a human with an android eye competing for a photography internship at an art gallery. The creators clearly put SO much thought into their characters and worldbuilding, but sadly there is nowhere near enough length here to do it all justice, and a number of elements felt very odd or under explored. The relationship parts are great! I just think this needed to be twice as long to really given everything its due, or maybe explored in prose instead.

The Memory Librarian (3.5 stars) - to start, I know nothing about the musical album this is related to, so I don't know how much that might have affected my reading. Overall I wasn't super impressed - when I discovered that the first story was cowritten by Alaya Dawn Johnson - no shade to her - I almost dropped it then, I just really didn't like her writing style in the one book I've read. But I stuck through it. Of the five stories, only one really stuck in my mind - Nevermind, cowritten by Danny Lore, which I could have read an entire novel about. I wish I could recommend it on its own, but overall I just don't quite understand the world Monae has created.

The Djinn Waits a Hundred Years (3.5 stars) - I probably should say more about the book, it was fine, I was surprised to find that it's set in relatively current day, I found myself a lot more interested in the second narrative about the house's history, which did make me cry a bit. Mostly though, I really just want to let you know how MUCH of a non-entity the djinn was in this story, I have no idea why it was there and why it was included in the title of the book. All the author had to do was make the house a little more sentient and haunted and it would be fine, idk. Read it if you want, but it's not one I would rec.

DNF'S

Foundryside - I was so ready. I had the first two audiobooks checked out, I had the third one on hold. I started this but oh, the writing. bleh. I was looking thought reviews and someone referred to it as something like "21st century internet speak." In a high fantasy novel. I noped out at just 10%.

Earthlings - I've considered the author's other book before but haven't read it, but thought maybe a sci-fic book would work better for me? The beginning was odd but not uninteresting, and I might have continued if it had stayed that way. But then the main character was in school(?) and her teacher started getting handsy after class and I wasn't invested enough to stick it out.

A Far Wilder Magic - the success of Something Close to Magic made me a little too hopeful I think, bc while I'm still a little leery around YA, I know people have liked this. And it sounded interesting, truly, and I love the cover. But first it was the religion stuff. And I didn't really like the characters. Then it's like, oh, this is the same plot as The Scorpio Races, but nowhere near it's quality in any shape or form. I decided to stop while I was ahead, before I started to actually dislike it. (anyway here's your PSA to go read The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater, I recommend doing it in October if you can).

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voidscarredadjudicator · 10 months ago

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Hey guys, still not dead yet. I wish I had more to talk about more often so the few posts I do on here aren't just shit to prove I still have a pulse, but the simple truth of the matter is that there's usually not much of anything to really talk about on my end.

But right now, there is!

There's a couple things - first, we're about a month out from the one-year anniversary of Act I's final chapter being published, which is very bizarre to think about because time is moving quicker than I can acknowledge and that just makes me vehemently aware of how long folks have waited for anything regarding Act II. And I know y'all are patient, and I know I shouldn't feel bad about actual real life shit that matters more than funny squid video game fanfiction taking precedence over said funny squid video game fanfiction (😱 no way) BUT I feel bad anyways. On the bright side, in the time between then and now, I feel as though my writing has improved dramatically thanks to the effective training courses that have been the shit I've written for the tabletop I'm running. I also may have discovered a latent passion for acting, as I genuinely brought myself to tears while voicing an NPC's emotional breakdown? I never even did theater in school, I just got so caught up in the moment that I felt it.

All of that said though, I think I'm almost at a point where I can start working on Act II once again!

Writing a fanfiction series and running a very plot-heavy tabletop game at the same time is not a combination I'd recommend. Like I said in my last post back in mid-January, it's definitely been a contributing factor to the delay (while certainly not the main one), but also like I said in that post, we're wrapping it up soon. The current projected end date is somewhere in early March, but it might be closer to late March/early April depending on the pace my players go at. So before I get myself caught too deep in planning the next game I run for those goobers, I wanna step back from that for a hot minute and kick this series back into gear - if not for you guys, then for my own sanity's sake.

Does that mean for certain Act II will be finished soon? I dunno. There's a non-zero chance that I might scrap what I've got so far and just start with a blank page once again, but at least that would mean there's progress actually happening.

Anyways... yeah, that's about it. Definitely nothing else worth talking about in regards to Splatoon in the month of February in the year 2024. Nope. Certainly not.

...

guys that's agetn 4 i'm telling you that's the 4 the oone who is not agentn1 ro 2 and not 3 but FOUR number 4 like from pslatton 2!!!

my uncle works at nintendo and he said that um he said that side order will make humanity's endling canon. and uh. kaleb appears and goes "huh. this really is the humanity's endling" and they all clap. yea. also harmony gets a remington 870

#The Adjudicator has spoken.#tl;dr i have a pulse and I am strong enough to do anything #YOU are strong enough to do anything #HARMONY is strong enough to do anything because she has a SHOTGUN #WHO gave her that thing #it was kaleb #kaleb gave it to her #clearly she can be trusted with firearms better than he can #as far as i'm aware she hasn't tried shooting a child yet #yet.

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bcbdrums · 9 months ago

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Event Horizon

A Soul Eater fanfic. Read on: AO3 | FFn

A/N: Monthly OTP prompt fills from this list for Spirit and Stein, because I cannot stop writing about them. I’m happy to hear recommendations each month for which prompt to write next. February’s chosen prompt is: 2. Fear Gas I had ideas for most of February's prompts in my head, but, this one grabbed my attention the most after chatting with some people and mulling over ideas. I took some extreme liberties on how it's interpreted, but gotta follow the muse. And, this fic is late because the muse has been drained. Too much has happened in the last month for me. But! Writing this story is seeming to revive me, so, we shall see what the future holds. Sometimes...the OTP goes through some...tough times... Spirit is 18 years old. Stein is 15. Maka is not yet one. Manga or anime canon, leaning heavily into my headcanons regardless. Also, this lovely art is referenced. And lastly, this is a gift for @cannibal-nightmares, whose art, kindness, and cleverness inspire me...constantly. Do check out their art! Uh...sorry for this one? I guess. Enjoy.

Event Horizon

Spirit stopped short as the book atop the stack in his arms began to slide away. He lifted his shoulder to adjust the balance of the stack, using gravity to shift the heavy volume back into position.

"Hurry up, Death Scythe."

"Y-Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir," Spirit said as he hefted the stack higher and hurried after Lord Death. He realized he probably could have checked out fewer books—especially with his propensity to speed through them—but every topic had him practically salivating with curiosity. From the history of demon weapon kind to the very first death scythe, Spirit's mind was alight with thoughts of battle and honing his skills.

They left the library and turned the first corner, Spirit still trailing a few paces behind as he bore the burden of too many books. But as academy students passed in the other direction Spirit held his head higher. He still felt a swelling of pride each time people paused to stare or whisper about him, the newest personal weapon of the Grim Reaper.

To that end, a couple of younger girls caught his attention by their giggling, and he wished he had a hand free to wave or make some other gesture of acknowledgement besides his million-dollar smile. But it wasn't needed as the two took a few hesitant steps in his direction, hands shyly lifted to wave.

"Hi Mr. Death Scythe!" one said too-loudly, and Spirit felt a flush of pride rise under his collar.

It would be too much to toss his hair, not to mention the risk in dropping the books, which would negate any air of prestige he was trying to effect. He merely met their eyes in response, held their gaze as he maintained his smile while he passed, and another thrill rose from somewhere in the pit of his belly as he listened to their giggles all the way around the corner.

"Spirit Albarn."

Spirit startled at Lord Death's address; he'd only called him by his title ever since becoming his weapon.

The reaper had stopped and turned slightly, and Spirit hurried to catch up. Lord Death didn't move again until Spirit had reached his side and then matched his pace as they continued down the hall. He felt rather than saw Lord Death's slight turn, the white mask looking down at him in a way that dampened Spirit's former rush of pride.

"You're a married man."

The last of the pride shriveled up until his throat felt tight, and his cheeks were flushing in embarrassment now. The reaper's discreet reprimand had been unexpected and brought every thought in Spirit's mind to a halt as he mechanically followed his newest meister through the twists and turns of the academy's halls.

He hadn't been thinking of his wife...which, was apparently the problem. He hadn't really been flirting with those girls...students...had he?

Spirit frowned as a gloom started to sink over him while he trailed after the reaper, through another set of heavy doors and down some stairs. Those girls were students. He was their superior. And he'd been thinking of them like classmates.

He was Death Scythe. He needed to get the real meaning of that into his oblivious skull, and not be worried about the attention he might get from girls.

That had been the start of his problems in the first place.

"Death Scythe, are you listening?"

"Wha? Oh... Sorry, Sir."

Spirit blinked into sudden awareness as he realized they had left the brightly painted academy halls and descended into a place more broad, dark, and foreboding. Lord Death had stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and Spirit continued his descent more slowly as he took better stock of his surroundings.

A chill in the air told him they had gone underground, and the architecture was similar to that above but looked as if it had been constructed in a past age. There was also stonework among the wood, and an eerie painting of an inverted trio of eyes on the floor at Lord Death's feet. The gloom he had been feeling turned to a sickness as he arrived at the landing and looked up to the black holes in the white mask that were studying him.

"Oh well. I suppose you can read about it in all of those books and then ask me questions later," the Grim Reaper stated, and shifted his gaze toward a door ahead of them.

Spirit looked at the door where the inverted eyes were painted again, just visible on the dark wood framed by a square of red stone. Two gray statues stood on each side the door, oddly shapen and with their arms raised as if holding up the ceiling. They each had one large eye, oriented properly this time, taking up the whole of their misshapen heads.

As Spirit stared at the strange artwork, he felt a sudden pressing of darkness against his soul. The sick feeling rose from his stomach up to his mind and swirled into fear that froze him in place as solidly as if he had fallen helpless in his weapon form. Blackness filled his vision, and with it came a sudden onslaught of thoughts, all crashing over his mind at once and twisting and overlapping and confusing him such that he was barely aware of his feet on the ground.

Who was this old deity telling him what to do anyway? He had never seen the masked figure so much as leave Death City let alone fight, so why should he feel guilt for whatever he might do that displeases him?

And why shouldn't he flirt with those girls, or anyone he wanted to? He was Death Scythe after all and could do anything he wanted. It wasn't like his wife ever stayed home at nights when he finally clocked out anyway.

They were supposed to be a happy family but she never acted like it. He should teach her a lesson for her taking off at every opportunity when they had a daughter to raise. Leaving him all alone to deal with bottle feeding and diapers and the crying and what had he wanted that baby for anyway?

Spirit gasped.

Shuddering breaths racked his frame as his eyes pierced the darkness swirling through his mind, fixing on the door in front of him as he tried to will away the sickness that had his legs shaking.

Was he standing still? Or was he moving? He couldn't tell for the way the room seemed to rise and fall on waves and his body with it. He was certain he would fall at any moment and that if he did he would never be able to get up again.

"Spirit."

A great hand, heavy on his shoulder, was turning him around carefully to face the stairs again. Spirit blinked repeatedly as the spinning of the room slowly began to subside. The darkness started to move away, touching only the corners of his eyes.

He sucked in air and fell to his hands and knees, and the impact of an elbow on stone stairs jarred him further into the present and out of the evil place his mind had been fast going.

"Spirit," Lord Death repeated gently, and the young weapon let the familiarity of the voice be an anchor, hearing it again and again in his mind until the darkness had faded from his vision and before his eyes was only dust-covered stone.

"M-Maka..."

He shivered as tears fell from his eyes and mingled with the dust.

He didn't mean it. He would never mean anything like that. Maka was the most important person in his life. He didn't want to breathe if her perfect face wasn't the first thing he saw each morning and the last thing he saw each night. He would do anything and everything for his daughter.

So where had that horrid thought come from?

He shivered again, more from the anxiety than the chill around him, and slowly started to right himself. Never-mind the books scattered on the floor behind him. He needed to get home to his daughter.

"Spirit?"

"Maka..." he repeated, his breaths quick.

He felt the hand squeeze his shoulder and he looked up. Worry exuded from the Grim Reaper, and it was a further anchor to reality bringing Spirit back from... From...?

"What...what was that?" he asked, his voice sounding small to his ears. As if Lord Death could somehow know what had happened that caused his mind to flood with more disturbing thoughts and feelings than he had ever experienced in his life.

"That...was the kishin's madness," Lord Death said gravely.

Spirit's eyes widened and he whirled around to face the door again. The trio of inverted eyes, a mere painting, seemed to stare through him, and he felt a fresh wave of fear penetrate him like daggers.

"Asura?"

Lord Death bent down to gather the dropped books.

"Yes. Through those doors is the path to where the kishin is imprisoned."

Spirit shuddered again as the sensations lingered in his mind and left his wavelength feeling ill and out of balance. Lord Death offered him the stack of books, and Spirit swallowed nervously as he took them, and then turned to follow the reaper back up the stairs.

"After you read about it in detail, we'll talk," Lord Death said.

Spirit looked down, and it took several attempts before his eyes would focus on the title of the book at the top of the stack. Kishin it read simply, with no author listed like a great many of the books on the fourth level of the library, and Spirit wondered if Lord Death himself had penned it.

"Ah... Lord Death, Sir?" Spirit ventured cautiously as they reached the landing.

"Yes?"

"Can...can I go home?"

Lord Death paused, but Spirit slowly released the breath he'd been holding as he felt the understanding and almost-warmth coming off of his new meister.

"Yes."

Spirit felt unsteady on his feet again despite the relief in his soul as he strode forward with single-minded purpose, hefting the books higher in his arms. He knew any fear was irrational, but he couldn't rest until he saw for himself that Maka was okay.

"See you tomorrow, Death Scythe," Lord Death called after him, and Spirit paused to turn and nod acknowledgement even as he sighed silently. He would make sure Maka was fine, but...he still had his new job to do.

---------------

Spirit opened his eyes to a blinding light that obscured his surroundings. When he tried to lift his hand to block it out, it wouldn't move, and testing each limb one at a time revealed the same immobility for each. His head felt as heavy as lead when he peered down to try to find the source of whatever was restricting him, but he was only able to move just enough to see a gray strap tight on his wrist, restraining him where he lie.

"Awake, I see," a familiar voice intoned flatly, and a shock of fear ran across Spirit's nervous system like electricity.

"S...Stein?" he said weakly, his mouth sluggish in response to his brain's command to speak. "What's...happening?"

"It's time for your punishment," the voice said from a distance. Spirit tried to look around for its source, but he was still being blinded by the overhead light.

"Punishment? Stein, what... What are you talking about? Where are we?"

Spirit pulled against the strap at one wrist, but it had no give whatsoever. He lifted his head to look around again and discovered he was without his shirt, wherever he was, and a large gray strap was around his waist as well as his ankles and wrists.

"For entertaining madness. It's the ultimate crime."

"What? But I... I didn't—"

"Evil desires entered your mind. And you...a death weapon. There's no coming back from that."

Stein's voice was growing nearer, but Spirit still couldn't see the teen. Cold fear swept him at the harsh edge of judgment in his former meister's voice, and he pulled at his wrists and ankles again but found the effort as futile as before.

"It wasn't my fault! I would never...I wouldn't act on those things!"

"But you've already flirted with other women," Stein reminded him.

Spirit choked, his next protest dying on his lips. It was true... And that had been before the encounter with the madness below the academy.

"But I... I didn't mean..."

"What you intended doesn't matter. Idle thoughts and mindless errors are as criminal as deliberate intent."

Spirit shook his head violently as finally, the familiar form of Stein appeared above him, blocking out some of the light.

"But that's not true! You don't believe that anymore than...than Lord Death does!"

Spirit ceased his useless thrashing when Stein didn't respond, and he blinked the dark silhouette above him into focus. The young eyes, so familiar to him, were now distant—sad and cold as he gazed down at the weapon with his mouth fixed into a frown.

"What matters is that you believe it," Stein said.

Something prickled at the back of Spirit's mind as he turned over the strange words. He had never believed any such thing. Stein had to know that. And why was he looking at him that way?

"So, it's time to cut out your soul."

A hoarse cry left Spirit's throat as Stein slowly lifted a massive cleaver, its sharp edge gleaming in the bright light.

"What!? No, what are you thinking!? Stein, stop!"

"Goodbye, Senpai."

The blade came down.

---------------

"Stein!"

Spirit sat up so fast his vision swam, the nightmare still vivid in his mind as the brightness of the laboratory contrasted the dark of his bedroom. He blinked repeatedly until the texture of the blanket came into focus in front of him, the way it sagged between his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.

Finally, he groaned and fell back against sweat-stained sheets, letting the blanket fall away. He could hear the rapid pounding of his heart in the silence of his bedroom as he let the cool night air tend to the moisture on his chest, slowly wicking it away and soothing the tension that had coiled in his body.

After a moment he let his arm stretch out and feel in the empty space at his side, the sheets dry and crisp for their lack of any recent occupancy.

Spirit sighed through his nose and shifted to squint at his alarm clock. Nearly two-thirty in the morning and his wife wasn't home.

She'd not been home that afternoon either when he'd arrived back early from work. Finding his home empty had only increased his residual horror from the experience underground, and he was grateful that his first call to the academy had located his daughter, safe in their daycare. What had surprised Spirit was to learn that she had been there all day, and was there most days.

This had been the catalyst for the argument when his wife had arrived home that evening, already spitting fire due to Spirit's discovery of her ongoing deception. It wasn't fair, she had seethed, that she stayed at home all day every day with dirty diapers as her only company, unable to live her life, while he lived out his dream.

Spirit only grew more bewildered at these claims, as his dream was two honey-haired girls in the cheap apartment they shared together.

Perhaps due to the terrifying experience he'd had that afternoon he wasn't as discerning or eloquent in his choice of words as he could have been. Fear was speaking for him when he ordered his wife to stay at home where she belonged, caring for their daughter and not leaving her in the hands of academy students while she went gallivanting off to Death knows where.

Her response had been another departure. But at least this time...Spirit had Maka.

He slowly turned his silver wedding ring around his finger as he rolled over in the bed to face the crib. He could see Maka's sleeping form within, still snuggled beneath her blanket and with her stuffed puppy tucked in next to her.

He wanted to get up, gather her in his arms and hold her until every memory of madness left him. But it wouldn't be right to disturb her precious sleep. So instead he simply watched her. How her tiny, delicate eyelashes rested upon her face. How her impossibly soft hair fell over her forehead and atop her ears. How even at less than a year of age, she was starting to look like his wife.

He turned the ring one last time before moving his hand up under his pillow to be more comfortable. The day had taken a greater toll on him than he realized, for the way his eyes kept dropping closed. His breathing had calmed, and the fear of the nightmare had faded. But the images returned as he let himself attempt to return to sleep, and his brow pinched together as he tried to analyze them.

The bright light, the restraints, and even the cleaver were no doubt due to the horrors his wife had verbally painted for him so many months ago with the discovery of an unremembered scar as they lie in bed. But the look in Stein's eyes... That sadness wasn't anything Spirit ever remembered seeing from the meister in their five years as partners.

And, why had he dreamed of Stein at all?

Spirit's eyes opened as he tried to recall the last time he'd spoken with Stein, and he could feel an ache with the further creasing of his brow when he couldn't place a date.

He slowly sat back up as realization struck... When had he last seen Stein?

Between the busy hours of learning the ropes as Lord Death's personal weapon, the sleepless nights when Maka wouldn't keep a schedule, and the growing number of unresolved arguments with his wife... He simply hadn't had time.

In fact, the last time he could remember seeing Stein, the meister had come there to his apartment, and he'd fallen asleep with Maka on his chest after a round of complaints about his life. He couldn't remember what, if anything, the two of them had talked about. And Stein had been gone when he'd woken up.

Spirit rose from the bed and glanced in the crib once more before moving to his closet. Despite his wife's protests, next to his blazer hung a long white coat that had been cut apart and reassembled with stitches to match an aesthetic that Stein had started adopting heavily in their last year as partners.

That day when Spirit had woken with the sunset in his eyes and Stein gone, the coat remained, draped over he and Maka to keep them warm while they slept.

Spirit pulled the coat from the hanger that had been its home for months, remembering the repeated insistence to his wife that he was just keeping it for Stein and would give it back the next time he saw him.

That had been months ago.

Whether it was residual madness or something else, a sudden urgency had Spirit pulling his clothes from the day back over his limbs, moving quickly but quietly lest Maka wake.

He had been Stein's weapon partner for five years. Even after his sins caught up to him and his life started to shift drastically off the course the two of them had planned, they had still been inseparable.

How could he go months without speaking to him and not realize it?

Once his shoes were tied, he folded the white coat carefully and then stepped up to the large standing mirror on his wife's side of the bed, and with his finger, drew the familiar number into the glass.

"Death Scythe," was Lord Death's unsurprised greeting, but absent his usual flurry of cheerful pleasantries. "Any residual effects of the kishin's madness?"

Spirit blinked in surprise at the reaper's cutting right to the chase, but he supposed he shouldn't have. He knew that he had only been touched by the mere edge of that wavelength, but the impact it had had was profound. He was certain it was the ultimate cause of his nightmare too, even if the subject had been a surprise.

"Ah...about that. I was wondering if...you could send someone to watch Maka for me? For just...just an hour, maybe less. I need to do something."

"Shouldn't your wife watch her?"

Spirit looked down at the coat in his hands, tightened his fists into the fabric.

"I...don't know where she is right now."

Spirit was still looking down when he felt a sudden wave of power and then his bedroom was filled with the imposing presence of the Grim Reaper.

"L-Lord Death! Sir!" he stammered as he moved back until his legs hit the bed, and he fell back to sit on the pile of tangled blankets.

"I'll watch her for you," Lord Death said, and Spirit's eyes widened as the imposing form of the reaper glided over to the crib and reached a huge hand down inside. Spirit's breath caught as one massive fingertip that dwarfed Maka's tiny body tickled lightly at her shoulder. "Oochie-coochie coo!"

"Uhh..."

Lord Death turned back to peer at him through the dark of the room. "It's the least I can do, after exposing you to that. Although, you would have been more prepared had you been listening."

Spirit blushed, and then quickly rose to his feet and tried to throw the bed into a semblance of order. He was glad there was no dirty laundry lying around and that he had taken out the trash bag of dirty diapers earlier that evening.

"Madness is nothing to take lightly," Lord Death continued. Spirit finished arranging the blankets and looked up to see Lord Death nod at the folded white coat. "Just consider your former partner."

Spirit swallowed slowly as he picked up the coat again. He thought of the fear he'd felt, the invasion of thoughts not his own and yet that had seemed to come from someplace within his soul.

Was that what Stein struggled with every day?

He considered the times he had touched the madness in Stein's wavelength when they resonated, the fear and violent desires that while objectively worse than what he had experienced, hadn't remotely carried the terror or dark lust that the wavelength underground had momentarily instilled in him.

Stein had been shielding him all along, he realized, even when he couldn't hold it back entirely. He hadn't wanted Spirit to know the depths of what he battled against. Who would, after all?

And...this was what Stein went through all the time?

Spirit's heart had begun racing again. He clutched the white coat tight to his chest as he began backing toward the door.

"Thank you, Sir, for watching Maka. I, ah... I shouldn't be gone long. The apartment is close. And..."

"Spirit."

Spirit stopped mid-step and looked up at the impassive mask of the Grim Reaper.

"He isn't at your old apartment anymore."

"...What?"

---------------

Spirit's pace had been hurried the entire journey to the city's outskirts, but he slowed when he approached the old, abandoned warehouse that he had passed so many times before without taking any notice. It was the same as always from the outside, but knowing his former meister was within made it feel different somehow; no longer part of the scenery, but something living. And yet for some reason, Spirit felt a heavy foreboding as he approached.

Stein had asked for and been given the building as a home months ago, according to Lord Death, and had hardly been heard from since except to request and take missions. He only showed his face in classes to take tests, which he passed, and would then vanish again.

When Spirit asked why Lord Death had accommodated these eccentricities, the Grim Reaper had been silent. He also hadn't answered any of Spirit's questions about the missions Stein took, except to say that he had recently taken their friend Marie Mjolnir as his new weapon.

Spirit had bristled at the designation, even though he knew he shouldn't. He had left Stein, after all. How could the meister be expected to continue his studies without a weapon partner? And yet for some reason, Spirit had never conceived of Stein working with anyone but him.

This and other thoughts had his head swimming as he propelled his feet down the sidewalk toward the warehouse, his heart rate seeming to increase with each step. He clutched the folded coat tightly to his chest and tried to will away the strange dread that had arrested his mind ever since the realization he'd not seen Stein in months.

He tried to tell himself it was just a product of the residual madness, or something brought on by the bizarre nightmare. It would all go away once he saw Stein again. He would knock on the door, and Stein would answer because the younger teen kept atypical hours. Spirit would apologize for not having seen him in so long and plan a day, maybe two, for them to catch up very soon. Then everything could go back to the strange, evolving normal his life had become ever since the day he'd learned of the pregnancy.

He held his breath when he knocked on the large double doors and then fidgeted with the fabric of the folded coat as he waited. Stein would be glad to see him, surely? But, Spirit suddenly wondered... Why hadn't he come around in months?

Spirit knocked a second time, louder. Perhaps Stein really was asleep, if he was even there.

Spirit counted the seconds until another two minutes had passed, and then with a shaky breath fit his hand to the doorknob. It turned without resistance, and he paused. Perhaps he could just quietly leave the coat and a note for Stein to stop by or perhaps call him when he could.

He pushed the door open slowly, wincing at the way it creaked on its hinges, and stepped into a broad, dark hallway. The walls on either side of him were gray and nondescript, just like the building's exterior, and all was silent as he cautiously started forward.

His brow rose when he heard what sounded like a voice muttering somewhere ahead of him, beyond another set of doors. He strained to listen and soon felt the tension drain from his body when he recognized the voice. Stein was awake after all, probably busy with some experiment, and simply hadn't heard his knock.

A smile was on Spirit's face when he pulled open the next door and passed into a large room lit dimly from a single standing lamp and the light of a computer monitor. Then, he saw Stein. And his expression dropped into horror.

Stein was seated on a rolling chair pushed back from the computer desk, and the whole of his shirt that Spirit could see was stained with layered drippings of what could only be blood. On the desk on either side of the computer were two large mirrors, propped against stacks of books and angled to the forty-five, and atop the monitor was a cracked mirror that appeared to have been bolted to the monitor's plastic frame.

All around Stein on the desk and floor were scattered papers and open books, and the computer screen was displaying some lines of text too small for Spirit to read. But his attention was fixed on the blood, his gaze rising up past where it clung to Stein's neck and soaked his silver hair. Both of Stein's hands were raised and fidgeting with something just as bloody at the sides of his head, fingers slick with the bright red substance, and the cuffs of his sleeves were stained as well.

Spirit's eyes narrowed as he continued to stare, unable to process the sight before him. And that's when he saw the screw.

"S...Stein!?" Spirit gasped in disbelief, his voice shrill. He looked past what Stein was fidgeting with to his countenance reflected darkly in the mirrors. His pupils were mere pinpricks in his wide eyes, and his skin was paler than usual under the streams of blood that ran down his face, even over his lips and staining his teeth where he was smiling broadly between incoherent mutters and soft, manic laughter.

"Stein!" Spirit repeated, taking an instinctive step forward. The folded coat fell from shaking hands as he looked around, searching for some enemy or any explanation for the horror that sat before him other than his ex-partner's own nimble hands.

The second cry seemed to get the teen's attention, and his laughter halted abruptly as he looked in one angled mirror first, seeming to stare in confusion at something in the corner of the room before shifting his eyes to the mirror atop the monitor until his gaze rested upon Spirit.

"Spirit."

Spirit glanced at the corner that Stein had focused on and found it bare, and then took another hesitant step forward. The blood dripping from Stein's stilled hands had his heart racing in a panic, but not more than the long object with which Stein appeared to have just impaled his skull.

"Stein, what... What... What's going on? What are you doing!?"

Stein slowly spun around in the chair and stared blankly at Spirit until his brow knitted very slightly.

"Hm. There's not usually two of you. Are you going to play the angel on my other shoulder?"

"I... I don't... Stein," Spirit stammered breathlessly. His heart was pounding hard in his chest, harder than it even had when he and his wife had battled the witch.

The faint look of scorn slowly left Stein's face to be replaced by the glassy-eyed expression and toothy smile he'd worn when Spirit first entered. His bloody hands had fallen to his lap when he turned, but he slowly raised one again to left side of his head where the larger end of the object protruded from Stein's head just above his ear.

Spirit's initial, instinctive assessment of the object as a screw seemed to be confirmed as Stein set his fingers around the flat, round end of it, gripped firmly, and twisted it backwards. A ratcheting sound came from the object and Spirit flinched away at the same time he took another step forward, the desire to stop Stein, to help him, and to just understand what was happening at war with the horror that had him nearly paralyzed.

"Stop!" he cried. "What...what is that? What did you do!?"

Stein adjusted his grip and turned the object again rapidly. His face contorted in pain as the ratcheting sound echoed through the large room, and the young meister began to laugh. The sound started low in his chest and then rose higher than the usual timbre of his voice as he doubled over and turned the screw a third time.

Spirit didn't know when he'd started crying, but tears streamed down his face as he forced himself forward on legs that felt as stable as jelly. He fell to his knees in front of Stein and reached up, set trembling hands on his shoulders and gripped the blood-soaked shirt.

"Stein."

The action arrested Stein's attention, his laughter ending as suddenly as if a switch had been flipped. He looked down at Spirit as if seeing him for the first time, hand frozen on the screw. Then he looked over to the corner that had stolen his focus before. Spirit glanced over his shoulder; the corner was still bare.

"I don't know if it's working."

It was the closest to sane Stein had sounded since Spirit had entered, but the meister's eyes were still glazed and didn't seem to see him. Spirit watched his face as he continued staring at the corner, could almost see the calculations working behind his eyes.

"This... Stein... Can you fix this?" Spirit said desperately, finally daring to look at the screw that Stein still held onto almost protectively. He leaned left to peer at where the smaller end of the object was protruding above Stein's other ear. He couldn't tell if it was truly impaled through his friend's head, or if some other mechanism was at work; it was impossible to tell through the matted, bloody hair that fell over the dark metal.

Stein blinked, and Spirit's breath caught as the meister's gaze suddenly narrowed on him.

"Don't you see? I am. Fixing this," he hissed cruelly.

Spirit shook his head. "Stein."

"If this doesn't work..."

Spirit listened to the frightened words, low and hoarse as Stein adjusted his grip, turned his hand, and the ratcheting sound echoed through the room again.

"Why would you do this?" Spirit pleaded, still not believing what he was seeing. If it wasn't for his fingers digging tight into Stein's shoulders he would think it was another delusion of madness.

Suddenly, Stein's eyes truly focused on his for the first time, and his face fell into a terrifying frown. It was just enough warning, and Spirit was able to lean back fractionally as Stein's free arm swept up harshly into both of his, knocking him away and barely missing hitting his face.

Spirit fell back onto his rear, caught himself harshly on his already-sore elbow, and gazed up at Stein in disbelief. The action seemed to startle the meister as well, his anger fading as rapidly as it had come. He stared at Spirit with something of confusion, and then looked up at the corner again. A sound of surprise fell from his lips, and Spirit watched as his eyes darted around the room rapidly as if searching for something, until finally settling on Spirit with another frown.

Spirit was frozen by the bitter look of betrayal that suddenly filled his friends eyes, and all he could do was watch as Stein started to shift his hand upward again. But then, apparently catching sight of the blood on his hand, the meister refocused his attention and a placid smile replaced everything else that had been twisting his features into something beyond recognition.

Spirit's tears fell freely as he stared at his friend and the massive object protruding from his head, blood still dripping down the sides of his neck. His thoughts were finally catching up to his horror, and he knew he should probably call someone for help, get Stein medical attention before he lost too much blood, and see if anything could be done about the metal rod that was apparently set straight through his brain. It shouldn't even be possible, Spirit thought, as he felt he would choke for how his heart pounded in his throat. That he had found Stein alive after his self-mutilation was nothing short of miraculous.

"Stein," he began carefully, his voice broken apart for his fear. "You... We need to..."

Stein stared at him with an unsettling calm, and Spirit's mind recalled every time he had had seen that expression before—all the times he'd had to hold Stein back, either physically or mentally, from some terrible desire borne of madness.

Spirit bit down on his words as he felt bile begin to rise in his throat. He shifted to sit upright, but his muscles felt useless under the weight of guilt that was suddenly bearing down on him as heavily as had the darkness underground.

Who had Stein had, to help him fight his madness...in all those months Spirit had forgotten him?

"Stein..." he tried again. He reached up to his eyes, closed them as he wiped away tears that kept flowing. Stein lifted an eyebrow, and Spirit realized his face was likely now streaked with Stein's blood from his fingertips. "Please, I... I should have... I don't... Stein, why?"

He blinked in attempt to clear his vision, gazed pleadingly up at the meister who sat so calmly, as if half his body wasn't stained in red and the air around them didn't taste of iron.

"Senpai," Stein said, his voice finally something familiar. Spirit watched his friend's hand slowly fall, rest limply upon his knee. But the calm ended once more as a wild, toothy smile bisected the meister's face, and something like the distant sadness from the nightmare filled his eyes. "You know better than anyone that I have a screw loose."

Spirit choked on a sob, shook his head as Stein began to laugh. It started low as it had before, but rapidly rose into uncontrolled shrieks that tore from his throat and racked Stein's body in the chair, rolling it back and forth through the drippings of blood on the cement beneath.

Spirit wept.

It was his fault. If only he hadn't forgotten Stein... No, if he hadn't left him to begin with. Then he wouldn't be seated at his friend's feet, watching him possibly bleed to death and collapse fully into the madness he'd fought so hard for years to protect him from.

He let his tears fall freely as memories raced across his mind, questions and possibilities and denials he had replayed countless times before, and conclusions drawn from the voice he had chosen to believe. It was too much happening too fast, all over again. And as over a year's worth of confusion and fear joined with the present and tangled into an unsalvageable mess in his mind, two words slowly formed and found their way to Spirit's tongue.

"I'm sorry."

It was time to rise out of his denial. He needed to ask Stein... To hear everything from his lips, find out what was true and what wasn't... Learn his side of the story. And no matter what, Spirit realized he didn't care; that in his soul the decision had already been made, and all that was left was to come back. To offer to fix what he had broken. It was all his fault, and couldn't they just erase the past, and please...wouldn't Stein forgive him?

"Stein, I... I..."

The shifting of plastic wheels on the floor stopped, and the laughter faded to hiccuped chuckling. Spirit wiped his tears again with the sides of his thumbs, brushed his hair from his face, and looked up.

Stein appeared frozen above him, grin still manic and eyes not quite seeing him even as he stared straight at him.

Stein's shoes pushed on the floor and the chair slowly rolled back and hit the edge of the desk. His gaze remained on Spirit, unblinking. A bloody hand reached back, felt blindly on the desk and knocked a few previously unseen surgical instruments to the floor. And then Stein's hand returned, rose up between them, his fingers delicately holding a scalpel.

"It's about time I gave you some new parts as well."

Spirit's breath hitched. Stein's shoes pushed down, and the chair started rolling forward.

Spirit let out an involuntary cry as instinct had him roll backward and away, far out of Stein's reach, and then he was on his feet and backing toward the door.

"No! Stein, no, listen to me!"

"Hm, but Senpai... Don't you think you could do with a new liver? I have one in my freezer," Stein said, jerking his head toward another door that Spirit hadn't noticed.

The simple movement of his head seemed to cause him pain, and Spirit watched as Stein winced, his fingers tightening on the scalpel even as both his hands quickly raised to grip the ends of the screw.

"Stein, I... Don't... Stay here. I'm going to get help. I'll get..." he stammered as he continued backing toward the door.

Stein's face settled back into the mad grin, the hand holding the scalpel lowering as the other turned the screw.

Spirit flinched at the sound it made, at the tiny laughs that seemed to slip involuntarily from his friend's lips. He shook his head in terrified disbelief as he felt behind him blindly until he found the doorknob.

"I'll get help. Stay here! I... I'm so sorry, Stein."

Spirit turned, away from the horror and the sight and scent of blood, and the echoing crank of metal mixed with laughter as he fled the warehouse and ran as fast as he could ever remember moving. Maybe...maybe if only he could reach some help...there was still time.

--------------

In the warehouse, Stein blinked at the metal door until it drifted shut, closing into position with a soft click. Then, all was quiet.

He blinked, slowly turning and glancing all around the room, into every corner and next to every haphazard stack of books, seeking any movement or sign of life.

"Spirit?"

Stein waited. But silence was the only reply he received.

He slowly turned back toward the computer, the feeling of moving his feet foreign as if he hadn't walked in an age. He was going to attempt to analyze that sensation, and why his body suddenly felt as though it wasn't his, when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirrors.

He took a few steps forward, not quite believing he was looking at himself. He noted the blood, both the dried and the wet still seeping from his flesh. And then he studied the screw, tilting his head slowly to each side and evaluating its appearance and placement.

Then he glanced around the room again.

"Huh. I guess it works."

Stein reached up to the screw, turned it once. Hissed at the excruciating pain it caused. And then he laughed.

---------------

Spirit was breathless and his limbs ached as he sprinted down the sidewalk to his first-floor apartment. He was so panicked and intent on his goal that he didn't notice his wife approaching the door at the same time until he nearly crashed into her.

"Spirit?" she said in surprise. He stopped, doubled over to his knees for a moment, and then stood again as his entire frame shook from exertion. His wife had looked confused and deeply annoyed at first, but she must have noted the blood on his face, he realized, as her expression dropped to fear. "What's going on? Where's Maka? Where have you been?"

Spirit ignored her questions as he wrenched the doorknob open and darted through the familiar halls to his bedroom.

"Lord Death!" he gasped upon entering, and the Grim Reaper turned from his faithful vigil next to Maka's sleeping form and tilted his great, curious masked expression down to the weapon and took in his appearance.

"Oh, my. What's happened?"

Spirit sucked in air and looked over his shoulder as his wife followed him into the room. She looked properly shocked by the presence of the Grim Reaper in her home and quickly schooled her appearance into something of respect as she dropped her purse on the dresser, glanced at Maka in the crib, and then turned her wide eyes to Spirit and waited.

Spirit took a few more breaths, looked back to Lord Death, and wiped his eyes again. He forced his tears into compliance before launching into a hurried explanation of what he'd found at the warehouse—of the screw, of Stein's mad behavior, and of the supposed threat at the last when he'd made to leave. He stole glances at his wife throughout, noted her astonishment, suspicion, and ultimately, anger.

"Oh, my," Lord Death repeated when Spirit had finished, his words slow and grave. "You stay here and look after yourself. I'll see to Stein."

"Yes... Yes, Sir," Spirit breathed, his lungs still aching in pain for the sprint back through town.

With that, the reaper vanished, using his mirror as a portal in the same way he had entered, and left Spirit alone with Maka and his wife.

With the promise of the best help for his meister possible, Spirit collapsed. He sank heavily to the floor between the bed and crib and let his head fall back against the edge of the mattress, his eyes fluttering closed as he tried to slow his breathing and bring his body back to some semblance of normalcy. But unbeckoned, the horrors from the warehouse flooded his vision behind his eyelids, and he blinked repeatedly to banish the experience worse than any nightmare he had ever had.

He lifted a shaking hand and tried to wipe the salt from his cheeks, feeling the flaky, dried residue of the blood that he knew he would need to wash before Maka woke up. And then he suddenly realized how overheated and sticky with sweat he was from the run, and achingly peeled himself out of his jacket.

"You...went to see Stein?" his wife's voice broke through his thoughts.

He rolled his head sideways on the edge of the mattress until her scowling face filled his vision.

"After everything he did to you!? I thought you were smarter than this!"

Spirit's brow furrowed. "I don't think—"

"You told Lord Death yourself, he threatened to cut you up again tonight! And he's gone totally mad! How could you do this to me? To Maka?"

Spirit shifted, started to push himself to his knees. "Angel, I—"

"Don't 'angel' me anything! What if he'd killed you? Your stupidity would have left me a widow and Maka fatherless!"

Spirit stared dumbly up into his wife's furious face. He wanted to argue that she'd hardly been a mother or wife, with her lying almost every day about where she was and leaving Maka in daycare, and then heading off again at nights when Spirit got home. But he was too exhausted, too overwhelmed by the horrors he'd experienced, and too worried about Stein to even begin to put any of those thoughts into useful words.

"He's my meister," was what finally escaped Spirit's lips, though he knew the argument was already lost. Even when he held the higher position, somehow with his wife, he always wrong.

Her eyes widened. "What?" she seethed.

Spirit realized his error as her face reddened further in anger, even though technically she couldn't claim to be his meister anymore either. Lord Death was the only one who would wield him now.

He was expecting an explosion, like usual. Words of censure and revulsion, to remind him that he was a dreadful husband and only Death's weapon because of her, and what thanks did she ever get for it?

But none of that came, as her feet padded softly between he and the crib, and then Spirit stumbled to his feet as he heard Maka's soft whimpers of distress as she was lifted out of her bed and into her mother's arms.

"What are you doing?" he said anxiously, a panic that was becoming too familiar racing across his nervous system.

"I'm going to Azusa's. Have your head on straight by tomorrow night, Death Scythe," she fairly spat, tucking Maka against her chest as she turned on her heel to leave.

"But... Kami!" he cried, stepping after her. But the door had already slammed shut.

He stumbled back against the bed, fell seated to the mattress as he heard Maka begin to cry from the sudden and startling sound. He listened to the second slam of the front door and Maka's cries growing distant as she was carried away from him, away from the home that suddenly didn't feel like it deserved the name.

Spirit's bloodied fingers found his wedding ring and twisted it slowly around his finger.

How, in just one day, had everything fallen apart so completely?

Spirit took a few breaths and then pushed himself to his feet. He walked on shaking legs into the bathroom, turned on the light and blinked against its harshness. His stomach turned as he stared at the red streaks on his face and that had matted some of his hair. He felt the prickling of tears in his eyes again, but with effort he swallowed them down.

His wife was right about at least one thing. He was Death Scythe. And he needed to be prepared for whatever he may need to face.

Maka would be fine, if they were going to be at Azusa's. Marie was still her roommate, unless something had changed, and often all the young weapon would talk about was the day she too had the privilege of being a wife and a mother. Maka was in good hands. And tomorrow, after some rest, he would deal with the issue of his wife's deception and leaving their daughter at daycare all the time.

That left the more urgent issue of Stein.

Spirit wanted to go back. He wanted to find out just what Lord Death would do to help his friend, to see for himself that Stein was going to survive the horrible self-mutilation, and could it even be undone? And, what of his madness?

Spirit thought again of what he'd experienced underground, the terror of those invasive thoughts, and how real and demanding they had been. Was that truly what it was like in Stein's mind? All those years that Spirit had felt the bristling, violent edge of his thoughts whenever he and Stein resonated... How Stein must have been holding it back, protecting him from the worst of it...preventing him from seeing the true depths of the madness.

Spirit took a slow, deep breath to hold the tears at bay again.

How could he have believed his wife? When she insisted Stein had been conducting illicit experiments on him, convinced him that the younger teen couldn't be trusted. Stein's refusal to offer either affirmation or denial was all the proof she had needed, and it had seemed the easiest way to ease hostilities to simply accept her word.

To abandon his partner.

And now, Stein may die because of him.

What kind of death weapon was he?

Spirit splashed water on his face and ran it through his hair, scrubbed at the blood until his skin felt raw and his scalp ached. Fresh tears mingled hot on his cheeks with the cool of the water, and when the only red left on his cheeks was the flush he felt from humiliation, he turned off the light and stumbled back into the bedroom.

He was no one anybody should be looking up to, or offering flirty waves in the academy's halls. He was an idiot and a failure, and everything his wife always accused him of being. He was probably a bad father, too.

He sniffled as his gaze locked onto the empty crib while he stumbled across the carpet, hoping that his wife would bring Maka back to him soon the next day. So focused was he, that his foot caught on something just under the bed and he tripped, falling so that his knee grazed the hard item when he hit the floor, and he hissed against the pain.

He felt in the dark for the offending object and soon pulled out a small, forgotten lock-box. His eyes widened on the sight, and familiar warnings rose in the back of his mind with too many words to form into coherent thought as he looked at the small, combination lock, the number sequence easily called into memory.

His thumb began turning the dials.

He had promised to stop drinking the day he found out about the pregnancy, and he had been true to his word. The box of expensive liquors was just for very special occasions, like the night after he and his wife had defeated the witch, and the day that Maka was born. And just a single shot those times, he had insisted, because it wasn't worth the risk to have more. Not when he was Death Scythe. Not when he was a father.

Stein's expression had been bittersweet when he told Spirit he was proud of him. Spirit had never understood that look.

He flipped the lid of the box open and lifted out one of the bottles, and his brow furrowed in confusion. It was nearly empty.

He considered for a moment, and then his eyes widened in understanding.

So, his wife had other secrets she had been keeping from him besides her daily excursions.

Spirit slowly turned the bottle over in his hand. He felt the warnings prickling all the way up his spine. He heard the echoes of his promises. He heard Stein's kind but melancholy praise.

And then he thought of his wife's lies. And the blood dripping down the sides of his friend's head. And the mad, defeated laughter as Stein had looked at him like he was a stranger.

Spirit replaced the nearly empty bottle, and then lifted a full one out of the box. He took a long, slow breath as he leaned back against the side of the bed. Felt every one of his nerve endings tingle in fierce opposition. And then he twisted open the cap.

He could keep some secrets, too.

#soul eater #soul eater fanfiction #franken stein #spirit albarn #lord death #maka albarn #maka's mother #kami albarn #CrossStitch #death scythe #stein #spirit #year of the otp #writing prompt #yotp

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senzasord · 2 months ago

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Life update - haven't done one of these in a while, but I reached a save point, so a good time for it.