#alan wake 2 fanfic

[pinkomcranger]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Alan Wake (Video Games), Alan Wake 2 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Saga Anderson & Alex Casey Characters: Saga Anderson, Alex Casey (Alan Wake), Alan Wake (mentioned) Additional Tags: Missing Scene, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, It's Casey. what did you expect?, Best Friends, Nobody understands Casey like Saga does, Casey is still grumpy about it, Special Agent Alex Casey wants to punch Alan at least one good time, stop denying him Saga, Saga is going to take care of everyone, even when they don't ask, where ELSE did Alan get that flannel from? it sure wasn't Casey's, Casey loves coffee, no beta we die like Taken, Banter, Teasing Summary:

The second Alan Wake leaves the room to get a well-earned shower, his legs still noticeably shaky, Saga turns her gaze to her partner. Casey has his arms crossed over his chest, leaning back in his chair, a frown marring his face. She practically feels his irritation rolling off of him in waves. She can't say she blames him, all things considered. “Are you alright, Casey?”

[pinkomcranger]

@hearts-are-connected this makes my heart so happy! An amazing fic with equally amazing fanart!

Our relationship was special. A treasure.

The lines were inspired from the first Alan Wake fic I wrote featuring FBI Agent Alex Casey reflecting on his relationship with his partner Saga Anderson. You can read it here on AO3.

[glettokono]

who would win - Dark Presence or Rose Marigold with kalashnikov

[breakfastteatime]

How dare this game call me out like this...

[velvetjune]

“Love Will Hurt” Night Springs DLC promo (Source: Remedy @ alanwake)

[pinkomcranger]

@hearts-are-connected I knooow. My heart grows ten sizes bigger whenever anyone posts an andercase fic and I love when they're good!

Fandom: Alan Wake

Pairing: Saga Anderson/Alex Casey

Rating: Teen

Summary:

It had been evident to her for a while now that he was drinking too much, but he had never called her while drunk before; that alone was cause for concern.

Casey struggles in the wake of his divorce. Saga tries to help. It makes things complicated.

[lostinthewoodsomewhere]

Cauldron Lake: 1am (2066 words) by Lost_in_the_Woods_Somewhere Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Alan Wake (Video Games), Control (Video Game) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Saga Anderson & Jesse Faden, Saga Anderson & Polaris Characters: Saga Anderson, Jesse Faden, Polaris (Control) Additional Tags: Post-Alan Wake II: The Final Draft, Hurt/Comfort, Vomiting, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post, AWE DLC (Control), might add to this later but here's a little rough exploration of this idea for now!! Summary: Yes, this was stupid, but she trusted her intuition, gift, Paranatural power- whatever people wanted to call it, and that told her things would be a hell of a lot worse if she didn't follow the feeling   In the aftermath of the incident at Cauldron Lake, Saga learns that the dark presence isn't quite done with them yet…

Hello! This is the aforementioned very rough Jesse and Saga scenario I mentioned! It's definitely not perfect, but it's been fun to just explore what I want, trying not to worry to much about making this into a full story!

Hope you enjoy!!

[scrimbum]

NO WAY in hell that this is alan, it literally has to be scratch

[king0fcrows]

I’m shipping Alan Wake and Agent Casey in a fucked up psychosexual obsessive “we are relentlessly drawn to each other” way.

Casey: am I real? entangled in this mess by a man selfishly and blindly pulling at fate’s strings? or a creation meant to serve as a means to an end? Do I want to protect you because you look so lost and fragile—or because a thing meant to serve a purpose always desires to do so? How could you be a god and be so fragile?

Alan: From the moment I created you (did I create you? Or was I just seeing you?) I loved you. I thought about you for hours and days and years. I know exactly how you take your coffee and the way you heart aches when you see birds in winter branches and the dark sharp thoughts that slide into your mind in the early hours—I know you as well as my own mind. Now that you’re flesh, how can I not want to hold you? How can I not want to cling to a thing I love in this sea of darkness? How could I bear to be rejected by you—even knowing all you’ve suffered at my own callous manipulations of fate? I know I don’t deserve you or your forgiveness but still I seek it out like eyes seek out light

[haveievermentioned]

I am looking for a beta for my Namine Wake AU. Must be familiar with both Alan Wake/Remedy and Kingdom hearts.

Pitch: Namine has been hiding a large secret. She's not actually Kairi's nobody. She's actually human, the daughter of celebrated author Alan Wake and his photographer wife, Alice. Too bad she was a kid born in an attempt to fix their marriage and then her dad disappeared when she was three. She was ignored a lot by Alice and when she erased everyone's memories of her... well nothing changed for them as she found herself with Organization XIII.

Now with the events of Kingdom Hearts 3 behind her, Namine feels a compulsion to track down her parents with the help of Riku and Kairi. Unfortunately, the events of Alan Wake 2 Final Draft means that Namine - real name Ailana - has stumbled into something that she didn't expect. And now she has to rely on others if they are ALL to get out of danger.

Problem: My main beta has not played Alan Wake 2. My other beta person has not FINISHED Alan Wake 2 and is not super familiar with Kingdom Hearts. My brother has done both but is not a great beta. I can tell there is problems I want to work though but I don't want to worry about spoilers. Please message me - not ask. My inbox is not working currently - if you want to help me. F

[koskela-knights]

Imagine if the AW2 fandom had blown up

Iike fandoms in the early 2000s did or even 2010s when the first game actually came out.

Just imagine the kind of music videos we could've gotten

Bring Me To Life ALAN WAKE FAN VIDEO

Alan x Alice || Everytime We Touch Fan MV

Mr Scratch x Alan YAOI BL

ScratchWake || Malchik Gay NSFW!

What Hurts The Most - Jaakko RIP Tribute

For Your Entertainment - Mr Scratch + bonus yaoiii

HOT AW BOYS 18+ Sexy Naughty Bitchy

Rose/Alan Rarepair! Diary of Rose

Jaakko and Ilmo - Promise of lifetime

Alan & Barry are best friends! (Toy-Box Best Friend)

Mister Scratch Tribute- MONSTER

Ilkka Villi is Mr Wonderful

[noodlecupcakes]

Set three years after the events of Alan Wake's American Nightmare, Alan is still stuck in The Dark Place, inside The Writers Room. His double, Mr Scratch wants him to write a new manuscript but Alan is stubborn and suffering from writer's block. Scratch has a few ideas in mind and tricks up his sleeve to inspire his beloved writer.

This fic is just pure Scratch X Wake porn. Hope you guys enjoy.

[thekylecopeland]

About five years ago, I made a satire website for a class. It sucked and I failed the class. A year later, I published Alan Wake fan fiction on it, and forgot about it until I randomly found it earlier tonight.

https://roundedposterenter.wixsite.com/roundedposter/post/ten-years-after-his-disappearance-alan-wake-s-meta-final-novel-has-leaked-online

[pinkomcranger]

Saga Anderson ship prompts

Exactly what the title says. Drop me your fav Saga ship with a prompt and I'll attempt to pop out a drabble for you! You can give me a word, a lyric, dialogue, quote, a discarded idea of your own, whatever! You can drop me an ask or just reply to this post with your ship and prompt ❤️

Of course I've only written Andercase but Saga is the little black dress of AW2 and I need more people to realize that. I'm also hoping by doing this, I'll be able to finish my long Andercase WIPs, I'm up to about...12? Yeah, I have an addiction, oops.

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

Oh, nevermind. Scratch that.

18+ only, if you're a minor do not read this

༻༺━━━━⁎∗.*.∗⁎━━━━༻༺

Summary:

Alvia Sherwood has always made strange dreams, after some disturbing events she finds herself in the Dark Place with a mysterious man. Thomas Zane.

Notes:

This is just bad, enjoy.

༻༺━━━━⁎∗.*.∗⁎━━━━༻༺

Chapter 1

Alvia Sherwood stretched once again, her back aching from hours spent in front of the easel in her small New York studio.

"The deadline is tomorrow," she sighed.

The clock on the wall offered no respite; its ticking continued relentlessly.

Her right hand was starting to ache too.

Alvia, a digital artist by hobby and a commissioned portraitist and sculptor by profession, had clients from around the world seeking her artistic creations.

No one was allowed to see her works in progress except her clients.

The clock informed her it was 2 AM. Her eyes declared they couldn't endure a second more.

Dragging herself to bed, her dreams were vivid, dark, and unsettling, haunted by an enigmatic man whose face remained elusive.

Every night, this mysterious figure danced in her mind, a silhouette in the dark. His voice was melodic, seemingly gentle but slow and dragging.

She never understood his words.

Awakening, an obsession drove her to paint that blurred face, capturing the essence of the elusive dream.

Her dark and obsessive paintings, so different from the smiling faces of couples in love, stirred concerns in her mind.

Despite her calm demeanour, impostor syndrome gnawed at her, fearing her talent was a facade hiding the fear of inadequacy.

Slowly corroding her from within, like water carving a cave, like calm waters eroding a dam until its collapse.

One morning, she painted his eyes. Deep and cold like the depths of a frozen lake, beautiful yet cruel, clear but so dark.

Each night, the face of her unsettling dream visitor revealed itself, bit by bit.

"Thomas."

The brush slipped from her hand. How did that name end up in her mind?

Was he a client? Alvia checked her agenda, and emails, but found nothing.

Had she unintentionally named her artwork? Like a writer naming a character on the spur of the moment, fittingly.

She cursed as she picked up the fallen brush, leaving a red smear on the client's white shirt she was painting.

It looked like blood, a long red line from the neck to the sternum. Alvia shuddered.

She tried to hide the mistake, but it seemed to resurface each time, a stubborn stain refusing to be washed away.

After a couple of days, she painted a tie over it, intending to explain to the client if questioned.

What if the client rejected her work? Wouldn't they pay? They might speak ill of her, spreading negative rumours.

The phone ring interrupted her thoughts. She rushed to answer.

"Hello? Alvia Sherwood speaking," she said into the receiver.

On the other end, a woman's subdued sobs.

"Miss Sherwood, I'm Lizzie Palmer, Josh's wife," the woman finally spoke with effort.

"Mrs. Palmer, what happened?" Alvia was struck with a chill.

"Josh was killed yesterday, a robber stabbed him in his shop, and—" Lizzie broke into tears, and the line went dead.

Alvia stood motionless. The phone handset still gripped in her hand against her ear.

She silently hung up and, terrified, headed to her studio.

Josh Palmer's portrait was on the easel, a long red line from his neck to sternum.

Alvia screamed in terror.

Getting sleep that night was difficult, even the pills prescribed by her doctor didn't work.

Exhaustion eventually dragged her into Morpheus's cruel embrace.

She dreamt of blood and paint, mixed, indistinguishable. Then a distant yet familiar voice.

In front of her, a vision of an unfamiliar room unfolded. A man leaned against a fireplace mantel, drink in hand.

He was speaking, but Alvia couldn't understand much.

"Alvia... Power... Place... painting... your art."

She woke abruptly.

A warm bath would calm her frayed nerves. Opening the bathtub faucet, a noise caught her attention.

How she wished she could blame a cat. But she had none.

She rushed to her studio, still groggy, with a terrible sense of déjà vu.

Turning on the lights, the room was in order as she left it. As Alvia was about to turn off the lights, she noticed something strange about the painting of the stranger.

Had it been her? She couldn't remember. She would never do that.

The painting was ruined, with a large scribble on the blurred face. A mess of black lines and fresh, dripping paint.

A sudden wave of water came from the hallway. Impossible, the tub couldn't be filled yet. The water was icy.

Alvia tried to touch it. Her mind was flooded with inhuman screams and terrible images from a nightmare.

She fell to the floor without feeling the hard impact on her knees.

It felt like sinking into icy waters, without a bottom, without an end.

She woke up with the warm and soft sensation of being in a comfortable bed. Slowly opening her eyes, she realized she didn't recognize the ceiling; it wasn't her room.

"Be honest with me—" a voice from the other room, Alvia couldn't understand the strange accent. "Do these pants make me look fat?"

Alvia jumped out of bed. In front of her stood a man in his forties, with long, dishevelled black hair. He wore leather pants too tight for his blood circulation and an unbuttoned white shirt with wide sleeves.

"Who are you?" she asked, scanning the room for an escape route or a weapon.

The man slapped his forehead, pretending to forget something.

"Thomas Zane," he smiled, extending his right hand toward Alvia. He said it with the pride of someone who knows his reputation precedes him.

Zane was handsome, aware of it, but his beauty wasn't conventional. His smile reminded Alvia of the Cheshire Cat. It made her uneasy.

"Did you kidnap me?" she asked, gripping the bedside lamp like a club.

"What's happening? Take me back home!" she demanded.

Zane sighed, dropping his arms by his sides.

"Girl, this won't do! You're too tense. How about a drink?" Suddenly, two glasses filled with a reddish liquid materialized in his hands.

Alvia didn't bother questioning the impossibility. "I don't drink," was her curt reply.

"You don't drink? Fuck, water is for plants! Come on, put down that lamp. I won't harm you," he crossed his heart after gulping a glass in a swift motion.

"Tell me where I am!" she shouted. "I was in my apartment, a man died, and my painting was ruined. There was water everywhere, and—"

Zane hushed her, standing next to her on the bed, having moved without actually moving. He simply disappeared and reappeared. He covered Alvia's mouth with his hand.

There was an internal struggle. The urge to bite that hand was strong.

"It's not your fault. I know you won't believe me, but you will. You didn't kill the man in your painting," he whispered, looking around as if suddenly the walls had ears.

He was crazy, surely. But how did he know she was talking about the client she painted?

"How do you know these things?"Now she was whispering too. Fantastic.

"I've seen you, Alvia, been observing you for a while," the girl felt her blood freeze in her veins, "every night I watch you paint until sleep claims you."

He was staring at her with disarming intensity, Thomas's large blue eyes seemed to pierce her soul. His eyes. Alvia only recognized them at that moment.

"I know you," she murmured, "Thomas! I painted you."

Zane burst into loud laughter, hopping joyfully on the bed. He looked like a game show contestant who just nailed a difficult answer.

He even bowed.

"Yes!! Yes, Alvia! It's me!" He took her by the shoulders and hugged her unexpectedly.

"See, your house is right on the threshold of an Overlap, every time you paint, every time you create your art, that threshold narrows, and I can see you!" Zane explained as if it were entirely logical. Alvia didn't understand anything.

"Overlap? Threshold? What the hell are you talking about?" Her head was spinning.

She looked out the window and saw only total darkness.

"Welcome to the Dark Place," Zane whispered in her ear, "the last circle near the asshole of hell."

"Listen, I don't know what's happening. I want to go back home." She struggled and reached the room's door.

She opened it and swore the corridor in front of her kept elongating, just like in a nightmare. In the end, there was a dark mass that reminded Alvia of a black hole. All the rooms had the same number. 665. The neighbour of the Beast.

She opened as many doors as possible, but each was the same room. In each of them, Zane watched her amused, lighting a cigarette.

"It's a nightmare. I'm just dreaming. There's nothing real here. I'm not really in this place, and you almost certainly don't exist." Alvia shouted at the man.

Zane put a hand on his chest, his face contorted in an offended prima donna grimace. "Are you fucking with me, Sherwood? After everything I've told you?"

"Calm down, I would never fuck with you," she said with a smirk. Pretentious bastard.

"I know that you know," Zane's mood changed, serious and almost threatening, "I see the image in your mind, clear as I see you now."

"What are you talking about?" Alvia asked on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"Scratch," he replied.

For some reason, she immediately thought of the ruined canvas in her studio, the black scribble on the painting.

Zane smiled. "I told you."

He turned abruptly and rummaged through the messy drawers of a dresser. The whole room was in an extraordinary state of chaos. He found a small flashlight and a gun, handing them to Alvia. "Take them, we'll need them."

"For what?" she asked.

"We need to get out of here and reach your studio. I'll take you back home."

[the-hidden-writer]

Lost in Translation

An Alan Wake 2 oneshot. Spoilers for Alan Wake 2!

Summary: After the events of the game, Saga casually asks Casey if he can he can speak Finnish. His response leaves her unsettled.

Words: 1,913 AO3 Link: [Here!]

Lost in Translation

They’d been working in their shared office for nearly four hours. Sorting files, sending emails, tying up loose ends on various older cases, etc. The admin part of the job that nobody tells you about.

Personally, Saga didn’t mind it at all. She actually found it quite therapeutic, as she did similar activities mentally all the time. It felt nice to get to handle physical papers and get to type visual notes. She felt as if she was in her element.

Her partner, on the other hand, was very vocal in his opinion that it was dull as hell.

Saga would often crack jokes or ask random questions to help lighten the mood. Many times they would lead into much longer conversations in which she’d end up learning a weird and wonderful fact about her partner. 

This time, she waited until he’d finished typing away at his computer and had stood up to go and refill his coffee (just to ensure she wasn’t disturbing him) before blurting out the first thing that came into her head.

“Casey, do you speak Finnish?”

A simple, innocent question- or at least, she’d intended it to be. But with the way Casey’s demeanor changed in an instant, freezing mid-step and a near-miss of dropping his beloved coffee mug, it was as if she'd caught a deer in headlights. A deer that would not normally turn his head slowly to stare at her with wide, haunted eyes.

There were a few tense seconds with only Casey’s heavy breathing filling her ears. She didn’t need to go to her Mind Place to instantly know that something was wrong.

“No… I don’t.” Casey’s reply was terse and strained, like he was having to force the words out of his mouth. There was also an element of uncertainty to his voice, as if he didn’t have total conviction in his answer. His hardened gaze shifted to look directly into her eyes, filling her with concern. “Why’d you ask?”

Why did she ask?

It was actually a question that had been simmering in the back of her mind ever since Bright Falls. She’d been enveloped in the whirlwind of the horror story at the time, tunnel vision to save Logan and Casey dictating her every move and helping her through the madness. There was so much going on around her but so much of it was quickly forgotten in an attempt to keep pushing forward. Her family came first, magic lakes and Wake’s inner demons be damned.

Yet there was one sight, spotted briefly in the basement of the nursing home, that she just couldn’t shake from her psyche. Gory images of her partner (whether it was actually him didn’t matter, he looked like him enough to chill Saga to her core) terrified and in tremendous pain while being dragged and stabbed by cultists, bathed in light as red as the blood spewing from his lips.

And the film was Finnish.

But she’d been alone in witnessing that. Casey wasn’t there, Casey couldn’t have seen what she had. A part of her had been satisfied with the assumption that it was just weird Dark Place trickery or something Wake had written in. Either way, it wasn’t real. She’d just been curious about the language.

Based on Casey’s reaction though, it clearly must mean something to him. Or maybe he had some other strange connection to Finland that he’d never told her about and it was all a coincidence.

…Yeah, Saga couldn’t convince herself that could even be a possibility.

Just in case, she put on a smile and tried to backpedal. “I don’t know, I just thought of it now.”

Still frozen in place, Casey threw her a pointed look and she could hear the unspoken dry words delivered through it. Don’t bullshit me, Anderson. We both know we’re way past that.

A small sigh of defeat escaped her lips. It had been worth a shot.

“I was thinking about Bright Falls,” she admitted reluctantly, the way Casey’s head dropped not lost on her. “With all the Nordic stuff going on there, I just wondered…”

She couldn't bring herself to tell him the whole truth. Not yet, at least.

“Yeah… I figured it’d be something to do with that.” He seemed to accept that answer at least and he finally finished crossing the room to refill his mug.

Saga offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry to bring it up.”

Waiting by the machine, he turned back to her and gave her one of his rare, small smiles in return. A soft little expression that Saga always treasured. “Nah, you're good. Just… caught me off-guard, that's all.”

That should have been it. She should have dropped it, should have accepted his convincing attempt at brushing it off for what it was. But she knew her partner better than anyone. She knew Casey, which is why she knew that such smiles were reserved for when something meant a lot to him, either positive or negative.

And judging by the way her skin prickled at his words, she had a feeling it was probably negative in this case. She felt the urge to enter her Mind Place and deduce what was troubling him. There was clearly more to this than meets the eye.

It sometimes slipped her mind that Casey could read her just as well as she could read him. Some of her concern must have shown on her face, because he started to elaborate unprompted. Saga had an inkling that it was in the hope that she wouldn't profile him if he offered the information himself.

“Look, it's uh… I don't really get it myself, so I don’t know what to tell you.” He gently set down his coffee mug on the table.

“Bright Falls?” Saga prompted. The easy answer to any horror or confusion.

To her surprise, Casey shook his head. “I’m not sure? It’s weird, but I don’t think it’s anything serious. It’s not even worth talking about.”

He was dancing around the point, opening up without opening up. Now Saga desperately wanted to profile him in her Mind Place, but knew that it would be painfully obvious to her partner if she did it mid-conversation. She continued to suppress the urge.

“I won’t push if you don’t want to talk about it,” she said, “but just know that your Christmas invitation will be officially revoked if I find out you’re bottling things up again.”

He let out a sound that was half a scoff and half a chuckle, and Saga herself relaxed a little upon hearing it. A small victory in diffusing the situation.

“Didn’t think you’d stoop so low, Anderson.” Casey said dryly. 

She doubled down with a hint of a grin. “Yeah, well then you’d better be honest with me because I am not bluffing.”

Another huff. “Fine.”

He walked toward her and settled down on the opposite site of the desk. He then took a long sip of coffee before making an even longer sigh.

“You’re gonna laugh.”

“Try me.”

His gaze shifted to stare into his mug. Saga watched intently as his brows furrowed, lost in his own thoughts. “I, uh… think I’ve had dreams… in Finnish or something.”

That was not what she was expecting. A smile tugged at her lips at being so taken aback.

“Saga.” Casey said with utmost seriousness, his tone causing her to actually crack up.

“Sorry! I’m sorry-” she quickly composed herself- “I just didn’t expect to hear that.”

That prompted an eyebrow raise from Casey. “What were you expecting to hear?”

“Not that.” Saga replied casually, hoping he wouldn’t pry further. Having strange dreams seemed much tamer than some of the possibilities she’d been imagining after seeing that movie. “What sort of dreams?”

He cast her a suspicious look but luckily accepted her attempt to brush it off. He shrugged. “Don’t really remember.”

The obvious lie lingered heavily in the space between them.

Casey then cleared his throat and stretched his fingers before beginning to use the computer again. “Well there you go, now you know.”

Oh, Saga could see what he was doing. He’d mimicked her casual tone of voice. He hadn’t pried when she clearly had more to say and now expected her to do the same. 

She desperately wanted more information, but he seemed to be pretty adamant on leaving it at that. If only because she didn’t want to risk revealing something about that movie if he didn’t know about it already, she decided to leave it be.

(In the conversation, at least.)

Once she was certain that Casey was engrossed in his work again, she entered the Mind Place.

Even though it was mostly behind them now, Saga had still kept various files open from the Bright Falls incident. The whole thing didn’t sit well with her and didn’t feel as though it had concluded in a way she was satisfied with. She half expected Alan Wake to knock at the door at any moment.

Moving over to the desk with profiles, she noticed Casey’s was already there waiting for her. She picked it up and studied it carefully.

What have you been seeing, Casey?

Instantly, a chill shook her body as it was spiked with a sudden anxiety. Casey’s voice echoed in her head. Saga shuddered where she sat. Not because of the fear that didn’t belong to her, but because the visions of her partner became more bloodied with each insight.

Not me. Not in those books. Not in my sleep. Just a nightmare. Not Wake, not Koskela. They aren’t sadists. My heart won’t stop pounding in my chest. Feels good. That feels bad. I try to speak and foreign words come out. I can’t understand it, but I know the words are mine. A bright light. A dark room. A friendly janitor. Those damn cultists. The fuck have you done to me, Wake? I’m trapped. I’m trapped. I’m trapped. I’m trapped. I’m trapped. I’m

Saga snapped out of her Mind Place, horrified. She quickly glanced over at her partner. Casey was still busy typing, none the wiser. Releasing a shaking breath, she leaned back in her chair.

So Casey had seen that movie. Or had dreamt about it. Had he dreamt about the movie or dreamt about the events? It wasn’t a memory or a vision, was it?

So much for it just being a part of her imagination.

“Casey?” she blurted out.

He peered out from behind the monitor. “Hmm?”

He seemed fine, either unaware or simply unbothered by the subconscious thoughts Saga had seen. She suddenly thought against bringing it up. How would she go about telling him what she’d seen if he wasn’t outwardly showing his troubles? Tell him that she’d peered into his private thoughts?

Frustrated that he was bottling things up after all, she sighed. “Nevermind. It’s nothing.”

“If you’re sure.”

She wasn’t sure, but couldn’t do anything about it. It would remain as a note under his file in her brain for the foreseeable future, only to be reopened during their Christmas get-together later that year.

After a big lunch and a lot of laughs, Casey had fallen asleep on their couch. She’d been placing a blanket over him when he began to mumble something. She paused, before realizing he was still asleep. That’s when it felt as if her own heart stopped in her chest.

The words were distinctly foreign.

The words were distinctly Finnish.

Thanks for reading!