#in the five minutes it’s taken me to write this post i could’ve gathered up the laundry by now but y’know.

[gaylotusthatexists]

once again i need to do laundry. i am going to do laundry. laundry is going to be done. now.

[kai-writes-fan-fiction]

In Hiding Part 6

Author’s Announcement: Hey guys! I really appreciate all of the recent feedback and the patience. My life has been pretty hectic these last few weeks, so as a reward for your patience, this is the longest part yet, and I’m really proud of it! I hope you all enjoy it!

P.S. Doctors scare me so sorry if the “medical” part of the story is shitty.

Word count: 2567

Warnings: mentions of blood, bodily harm, non-consensual medical treatment, reader is StRaNgLeD, tiny OCD routine, slight language, non-descriptive violence, and grammatical/spelling errors.

The Avengers were everything you hated. They were destructive, they took whatever they wanted without a thought about anyone else, and they loved behind a façade. You’d seen who The Avengers truly were; they were menacing, inhumane, and lacked empathy. They could’ve just left you alone; you weren’t hurting anyone. You may have been doing some illegal things, but they were minor offenses! You’d never killed, and you were against terrorism of any kind. You just wanted to go home, wanted to be left alone. Your freedom had been stripped away after you’d made your final decision. You wouldn’t fight with The Avengers; you’d do everything in your power to get away from them.

You looked up from the floor of your cell, into the eyes of Steve and Bucky, and you could tell they knew what was coming next. You were stronger than them; you could easily overpower them. They’d seen it earlier when you grabbed their wrists, and every second you sat in that godforsaken cell, you became more immune to the effect of the material blocking your powers around you.

You intimidated them, and you knew it. You knew that your time in this compound was running out, and soon you’d be free. Free. Free. Free. Free. You repeated the phrase in your head five times to lock it in.

You felt that you were ready to share your decision. “I’d never fight for you people, never. Never. Never! NEVER! NEVER!! You people are killers; you take everything for yourselves! You’ve destroyed cities, taken the lives of so many innocents. How can you live with yourselves?” You yelled. Your eyes had begun glowing, and your hair was lifted off of your head as your volume increased. “How?!” You questioned, your eyes shining brighter.

Steve and Bucky were backing into corners of your room, staring down at you. A blue aura began to form around you, illuminating the room in a vibrate blue. Your crossed legs began to levitate off of the ground, and a strong wind began to sweep through the room in a circular motion.

You didn’t want to fight, this trick took all of your energy, and the two super soldiers were helpless, so you decided this would be the perfect time to escape.

As soon as you turned to the wall farthest from the room, which you hoped would lead outside, a particularly strong wave of fatigue hit you. The wind and your aura began to dim, but Steve and Bucky knew not to lunge at you yet.

A string of mumbled curses fell from your mouth, and you let your feet descend onto the ground. This might conserve your energy so you could put more into escaping this wretched complex.

Being back on the ground and looking less powerful, Steve decided to go for it. He jumped forwards and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you into him; you could only wiggle your hands.

Lifting you off the ground, he tried to make it so you couldn’t use your feet as any leverage.

“Fucking dick!” You yelled, thrashing in his arms.

“Language!” He yelled.

You’d had enough of his bullshit and began thrashing more. His grip only tightened, but you were still stronger. There was a vent located right above you, so you flew out of his arms.

You tucked your legs into your chest after he tried to reach out for them and stretched your arms, reaching for the vent. You swiftly pulled it off its hinges and forced yourself into the circulation system.

The tunnels weren’t dissimilar to a maze, you tried to go in one direction, but after 20 or so corners, you have turned around. The alarms blaring throughout the compound, warning everyone of your escape, were bringing about an awful migraine, and you were becoming more and more fatigued by the minute. You wouldn’t stop, though.

You had heard a few voices in the tunnels with you, as well as footsteps. You made sure to avoid them, and after 10 minutes of wandering through the ventilation, you found an air vent to the outside. You pushed hard, and with the last bit of strength you had left, the vent became dislodged. You tumbled out and plummeted about two stories before hiding the ground with a painful ‘thud.’

You crumpled into a ball on the grass, and you felt blood trickle down your forehead. You could also no longer feel your right foot, meaning it was broken. Everything hurt, but your ribs were also a very obviously damaged part of your body. Every time you moved, you felt a shooting pain.

You slowly sat up and wiped the blood from your face, and the amount of blood on your hand was startling. You looked around other parts of your body to assess the damage and found that your knees and elbows were also bloodied, as well as a few scrapes here and there. You lifter up your blue scrubs to get a better look at your side, where a wide purple and blue patch was starting to form. Hesitantly, you placed two fingers on your side, looking for anything broken. The shooting pain was the response, and you pulled your hand away. It was most likely broken, as was your right ankle. It was also a swelling purple and blue mess, and the pain was begging to hit.

You let your eyes fall away from your body to look at your surroundings. You were greeted by vast green forest on all sides, and behind you stood The Avengers compound. It loomed over you, and you could still hear the alarms blaring from the inside. You struggled to get up, and, to no avail, did you.

So, you lay on the ground, your tribulation had failed, and you were doomed once more. You tucked yourself into a ball and cried.

‘How could you be so weak?’ You thought to yourself. ‘How could you let people like the Avengers-like HYDRA-control you like this?’

It would be best if you found somewhere to hide, and quickly. You wouldn’t let The Avengers control you anymore. You couldn't.

You pushed yourself up, so you were on your hands and knees, but you were weak, and I’m so much agony. You kept pressing on, though. You crawled your way to the forest and let yourself fall behind a tree. You must’ve hit a tripwire or a perimeter alert, as a new set of sirens went off and an automated voice yelled your location. You cursed, but you couldn’t go on much longer. With your injuries and your temporary inability to shift, you had to surrender.

—————Avenger POV—————

“We’ve got a location!” Tony yelled through the team's comms. “Kid’s headed East, and it looks like she’s stopped behind a set of trees. I can see her on cams.”

“Who should we send out there? You saw what she did to Steve and Bucky.” Implored Natasha.

“She looks pretty tired. We could probably take her if we needed to, but I don’t think a fight is in store.” Bucky advised.

“How about we all just go out there?” Steve added sarcastically.

“Oh yeah. Good idea, capsicle.” Tony agreed. “Everyone grab your things and meet me in the common room; we’ll all go out and surround her. Bucky, Steve, you go from the East. Natasha and Clint, you guys, take the North. Strange got here a few hours ago, so he and I will take the West. Loki, you’re just going to ignore me, so Thor, go with him and make sure he doesn’t do anything rash. And Bruce? You stay inside; we don’t want a code green, big guy.”

‘Okay’s and ‘mhm’s sounded through the Comms, and three minutes later, everyone was gathered in the common room, looking at one another surreptitiously, not knowing what would greet them on the other side of the doors. They didn’t know whether or not you’d be putting up a fight, but they were about to find out.

“We’re all here? Let’s go then.” Tony commanded. His suit's helmet fell over his face, and he strode forward, everyone else in close pursuit.

—————Your POV—————

You were weaving in and out of consciousness, and you still lay crumpled on the ground in your ball. You felt weak, and you couldn’t think straight. The world was a spinning vortex, and you almost thought you heard voices and feet. You opened your eyes and were met with the face of Tony once more.

SNAP! SNAP! In your face again, but with metal fingers instead of flesh. Tony likes snapping, it seems. You, however, did not. You attempted to growl to ward him off, but you couldn’t produce any kind of sound.

You turned your head slightly to face the rest of the team. They towered over you, weapons drawn and aimed at your face. Typically, you wouldn’t fear them, but in your fragile state, they were pretty threatening.

This wasn't very pleasant. You, one of the most powerful enhanced humans ever, were lying on the ground, bloodied and broken, at the will of The Avengers. They stared down at you, pity written all over their faces. Pity, not a feeling you wanted to be affiliated with.

Two metal arms reached out and wrapped around you, hoisting you up. A sudden rush of adrenaline caused your limbs to begin thrashing about, and the pain from your ankle and ribs subsided. Your sudden movement caused the metal arms encasing your body to pull you closer to the body they attached to. You felt the metal chest and put two and two together. You were in the mostly impenetrable arms of the Iron Man.

Tony picked you up carefully and began walking back into the compound, and the team followed suit. You tried to summon the adrenaline once more, but it didn’t want to come.

Feeling completely vulnerable, you decided to surrender. Yes, it was the cowards’ way out, but did you have another option? Your body was giving up on you, you couldn’t use your powers, and your opponents happened to be the killers of Thanos, another very powerful being.

There was no hope, so you just closed your eyes and allowed the sleep that had been creeping up on you to take over. Your vision faded into black, and the last thing you remembered was the mechanical hum of the Iron Man's suit.

——————————

You awoke to quiet chatter, and a beeping machine you could only assume was a pulse monitor.

As soon as your eyes fluttered open, your senses were flooded with a bright white and the smell of rubbing alcohol.

You looked up from your supine position to find yourself strapped to a table once more, but stronger and additional restraints were added this time. You still felt weak, and your side and ankle were aching, as well as your head.

An IV was embedded in your forearm, and as your eyes traveled the length of the tube up to the bag supplying it, you found it contained a thick blue substance. It must’ve been combating your powers because you couldn’t shift.

You took in your surroundings and found various members of The Avengers watching you. Creepy.

“Welcome back to the land of the living (Y/N).” Chuckled Tony, “You gave us quite a scare.”

The rest of the team went silent, and Bruce, dressed in a white lab coat, whipped around to face you and ran to your bedside. He whipped out a flashlight and shoved it in your face, his fingers following to hold your eye open while the flashlight shined in.

“Pupils are dilating, so no concussion.” He hummed, moving to your other eye.

He moved to pull a stethoscope from his neck and pressed the bell to your chest. You bit your tongue to stop from yelling out when the cold metal touched your bare skin. You must’ve bitten it when you fell because you sensed a metallic taste in your mouth. Bruce was in spitting distance, so you let the blood and saliva pool in your mouth, and you prepared to launch it towards him.

As soon as he lifted his head, you released your spit bomb. Bruce recoiled and began incessantly wiping his face with gloved hands. A hand flew around your neck, preventing you from spitting again.

Blood dribbled down your chin, and you looked up to the face the hand belonged to. It happened to be the winter soldier, and you grinned up at him, blood coating your teeth. He stared you down, and you did the same. The rest of the team just stood by, wearing “What The Fuck Just Happened” expressions.

Bucky finally released your neck, and Banner walked back over, blood-free and with duct tape.

“Shouldn’t have done that.” Tony mocked from behind Bruce as he and Bucky taped your mouth shut.

You tried to shake him off, but your movements were no use. Barnes had a firm grip on your head that prevented you from thrashing about, and Bruce was wrapping your face.

‘Duct tape is the best they can do?’ You thought to yourself. ‘Do they know that duct tape loses its stick when wet?’

You laughed to yourself, and Bruce and Bucky ceased their actions and looked up at you, as did the rest of the team.

“What’re you laughing about?” Bucky snarled.

You only shook your head and rolled your eyes. If they didn’t know, why tell them?

Banner ripped the tape and stepped back. Bucky released your head, and you stared up at the ceiling, hoping they’d all leave.

“The rest of you can go. Bucky, you stay here. I need help controlling her.”

“You got it, Banner.”

The rest of the team reluctantly left, leaving you, Bucky, and Bruce. You looked over to them and stared them down with undeniable murderous intent.

“So, uh, what’re we doing next?” Bucky turned to Bruce, who was still staring you down.

Bruce snapped out of his trance and looked over to Bucky. “She’s still got some injuries from her fall; I need to check those out. Do you have any medical training?”

Bucky nodded. “A little bit, from when I served. Just basic stuff.”

“We can work with that.” Bruce crossed his arms and walked in the direction of your injured ankle.

You tried to get away, but the power suppressors and restraints prevented you from doing anything, so you just wriggled around uselessly.

Banner pressed two fingers to your swollen and bruised ankle, and you bit your tongue to stifle a muffled scream. He moved his fingers to another part of your ankle, and you hit your head against the table to suppress another outcry.

“Bucky, can you grab some Ace bandage? I think the Talus is fractured. We’ll need an X-Ray to make sure, but I doubt she’ll cooperate.”

“I can make her, or we could try sedation.” Bucky offered.

Bruce seemed to rather like that idea, as his brows raised, and he procured a metal syringe.

Forcing it into your arm, you let out a muffled, yet surprised yelp. Immediately after the syringe was removed from your arm, your world began to darken, and you became dizzy.

You tried and failed to resist, but your body gave in, and the last thing you saw was Bucky and Bruce watching you.

To be continued…

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@play-morezeppelin @hi-i-1 @ohashley101 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @marvelfansworld

[miraculouspenta]

Public Twitter

Mominette Month 2021 Day 03: Public Chaos Masterlist

It was Bruce and Marinette's 6th year anniversary. Bruce had taken her to the Wayne Botanical Garden for their date. They had met each other there when Marinette was looking for inspiration and Bruce came to check on things. Bruce had been intrigued by the designer's designs. One thing led to another and they started dating. Their date was simple, nothing too romantic. It was just dinner on one of the benches there, sitting together in each other's presence.

Marinette was wearing a white sundress. It's sleeves fell off her shoulders making her look elegant but still keeping it simple. The dress itself fell right above her knees and was a little bit longer on the back side. It was embedded with various patterns of flowers all around. Her date had on a casual white button up shirt completed with a pair of jeans.

Bruce could feel his nerves creep up on him as he reached for the small box in his pocket. Inside it was a gold ring, custom made by one of the best jewelers in Gotham. It was an infinity ring with a bat on one end, and a ladybug on the other. On the inner part was engraved the words "mon amour" in beautiful calligraphy, my love.

"Marinette," he said, catching her attention.

He stood up and came to stand in front of her. He fiddled with the box in his hands a bit before finding the right position to hold it and went down on one knee.

"When I met you here six years ago I could've never imagined that our future would turn out like this. I regret nothing approaching you and everyday I'm grateful that I did. You always managed to amaze me with everything you do. Everytime I think I know every part of you, you always show me there's more. The day I found out you started protecting Paris at thirteen, when I hadn't even started my training, my adoration skyrocketed despite the fact that I thought it couldn't go higher. You love the boys with such care that they view you like a mother. Now I ask, would you want to make it official? Would you do me the honor of being their mother, of being my wife?"

"Yes," Marinette replied softly between her cries of joy, tears were already spilling from her eyes.

Bruce smiled and placed the ring on her finger. He stood up and kissed her with a passion. The kiss felt familiar, but no less loving. They embraced each other for quite some time before their peace was cut short by the sounds of both their phones ringing.

The only notifications that can bypass the do not disturb settings both of them turned on were notifications from the boys. They looked at each other in confusion and Bruce opened his phone. He saw a notification from twitter. "@DickGrayson just tweeted" it said. He showed the notification to Marinette as he opened it.

Both their eyes widened in horror as they read it.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

Prettiest Wayne @DickGrayson Look at these two. Looks like Bruce finally got the guys to propose. [View image]

Damian @DamianWayne Replying to @DickGrayson Wrong account, Grayson.

I need coffee @TimothyDrake Replying to @DickGrayson The press is going to have a field day over this…

View more replies

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

A few seconds later, the tweet was deleted along with all its replies. Unfortunately both Bruce and Marinette knew that the news would reach the headlines tomorrow. The press only needs a second to gather up news like this, the tweet was posted for a full five minutes. That and the fact that #BrucinetteProposal was trending.

The two shared similar sighs and packed their items to head back to the manor. It was going to be a long night.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

Tim was already starting to get a hold of the situation when they got back. He was hunched over on his laptop looking more exhausted than normal. Marinette walked slowly over to him and took his laptop away from him. She sat next to him and ran her hand through his hair.

"Take a break, sweetie, we'll take it from here."

"But-"

"Nope, don't make me carry you to bed."

Tim reluctantly got up and headed to his room, stretching his arms as he walked.

"You know it's very unlikely that he will sleep right?" Bruce said, sitting down as well.

Marinette giggled, "Yeah, but he looked like he was about to pass out."

She sighed and leaned back.

"So, the situation? Are we just going to come clear to the press? Just announce we're engaged?"

Bruce seemed to think about it for a moment.

"I suppose that's ok, we'll just keep our wedding date a secret, it's not like we discussed when our wedding is going to be held anyway."

The couple smiled at each other and just sat there, cuddling in silence. A couple of minutes later, Dick walked in, a guilty look on his face. When Marinette noticed, she gestured for him to come over. Dick walked over slowly and joined them on the couch. Both Bruce and Marinette gave him a tight hug.

Everything's gonna be just fine

873 words

That proposal was oddly easy to write. I guess I'm just a really sappy person. XOXO -Leen

@mominettemonth

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[captainillogical]

Home Ch.4

The domesticity of living with an alien who hasn’t quite had the chance at a normal life.

Distant Lands sequel.

Spinel/Reader

collab with my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants​

Today is another hot, bright day outside, and you have not had enough coffee to deal with it. Or any at all, actually.

Currently it's about an hour before your first lesson, and you're at Kiki's place - sitting on the toilet inside her bathroom in particular - trying to not panic.

"-and then! I told her if she wants to keep borrowing my jacket, the least she can do is NOT get mustard all over it! Can you believe her?!" Kiki huffs out next to your ear, dabbing more pigmented cover-up against your collarbone.

"Why the hell do you buy clothes that you know she'll keep stealing? You know she's not going to stop since you basically wear the same size." You reply, leaning into her brush. It tickles your skin, and you feel yourself almost sneezing.

"Because they're cuuuuuute, okay?" She whines, twisting her face in concentration as she smears makeup on a particular spot on your neck. "Wow she really did a number on you here.. are these teeth marks?"

"Pretend you didn't see them, just cover them up as best as you can," You plead, giving her The Face you know she can't resist. She rolls her eyes. "I just wanna look professional, you know?"

"They're gems, Y/N." She makes a point to jab you particularly hard on the side of your neck with her brush. "You seriously think they're going to care? Or notice?"

"Well, apparently a few humans signed up too, and I really would prefer to not get any more looks, er - more than the usual, anyway." You feel your phone vibrate in hand, and look down to see Steven giving you several thumbs up to your earlier text. 

"Why are humans signing up?" She asks, pausing momentarily.

"Not sure? But I'm blaming Steven on that." You reply, remembering to shoot Garnet a message as well about having her attend just in case you make a fool out of yourself in front of a crowd.

"Maybe they saw you with Spinel, and thought, hey, maybe the rest of us could-" 

A door slams against a wall, and you hear a resounding 'HEYYYYYYYY' from the hallway in a very familiar voice. Several pairs of footsteps are walking towards the bathroom the two of you are in.

Oh god, you need to go. You attempt to stand up from sitting on the toilet, and Kiki forces a hand on your shoulder with an "I'm not done!"

"Kiki!" Jenny pops her face into the bathroom doorway with an infectious smile. "What are you dooooooooo- whoa, Y/N?!" 

If you could clap your hands and disappear, you would.

"Heyyyyy Jenny," You greet her as flatly as you can, and then Lars also pops his head into the doorway. Oh. Great. "Lars. What are you guys doing here?"

Lars gasps dramatically, pointing to your neck. "YOOOOOOOUUUUUU-"

Kiki silences him with her palm over his mouth. "Dude I already told you, why are you being so dramatic right now,"

"You TOLD him?!" You screech, feeling completely betrayed.

"Well, YEAH, clearly you were going to just internalize it and dance around the subject!" She places her hands on her hips, makeup brush still in her fist. "I'm just expediting the process!"

"Tell him what!?" Jenny pipes in, completely engrossed.

"That Y/N's dating Spinel!" Kiki huffs out, like this is obvious information, and Jenny gasps.

“I wasn’t going to dance around the subject!! I just haven’t had the chance to shoot him a text yet..” You mumble, trailing off sheepishly. Okay, so, you know you should’ve told Lars already! It’s just.. Ugh. Talking about your feelings is hard. The face Jenny’s making is making you wish you could flush yourself down the toilet.

“You dumbass, were you seeing how long you could hide this from me?! After all I did for you.” Lars crosses his arms over his chest, miffed. “It’s whatever, I knew that was going to happen sooner rather than later, anyway. I was expecting like, two days, tops - with how you had talked about her.”

“Am I that obvious?” You ask flatly.

“Uh, yeah.” Jenny gives you a look. “Girl, you avoided me for an entire year after I asked you out, and then acted like nothing ever happened. I probably would have recovered my ego a lot faster if I knew your type was Gems.”

“My type isn’t GEMS,” You sputter, utterly amazed at the audacity of the three of them.

“Yeah but your neck says otherwise,” Lars teases, and you groan, covering your face as the other two howl in laughter.

“Remind me why I’m friends with any of you?” You say, muffled behind your hands.

“Um, because you have no other options?” Kiki grins, and you put your hands down just to lightly kick her on the shins, and she chokes out a snort.

“So, what’s the occasion? Why are you dolling up Y/N?” Jenny peers over at you, taking in the new.. upgrades to your appearance.

“She’s got some lessons today, and wanted to look more professional,” Kiki rolls her eyes, like somehow you wanting to not talk to a class looking like you got half-mauled by a sea lion is ridiculous. “Speaking of, did you want me to cover the scar on your face?”

“Ehhh, leave it. I don’t really care about that.” You look at the time on your phone, knowing you need to leave soon. Spinel has texted you a few words of encouragement coupled with quite a pile of heart emojis, and you have to school your face into not smiling at it like some sort of cheese ball.

"I think you look cooler with it anyway," Jenny tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, her gold earrings shining in the light of the bathroom. "Makes you look like you won't take shit from anyone."

"What about my scar?" Lars asks. "Is my face scar not cool??"

"Yours looks more like you fought a raccoon in a dumpster." Jenny grins, and you can't help the laugh that comes out of your mouth as Lars sputters at her response.

The four of you chat for a little while longer while you finish up with Kiki, Jenny asking way too many questions about your personal life - but this time, you don't feel uneasy at all about sharing some of the details with her. 

-

You're standing in the middle of Little Homeworld near the town center, coffee in hand - surveying the area as people and gems hustle around you. You probably should've also grabbed something to eat, but it's kind of too late now. Steven's bringing you lunch after this anyway.

It's twenty minutes until your first lesson, and you're starting to see a few gems show up early. They had to relocate where you'd be having the class - originally they had given you a decent spot under some coverage, but because the attendance got so high they moved you to the literal town center for the space. There's a lot of gems (and some humans) around, and most of them are either working on small construction or going about doing their other jobs. You watch three Amethysts a few yards away struggle to lift a large sheet of glass for what looks like a new cafe. Huh. The gems are really trying for inclusivity here. 

You turn around to look at your chalkboard that Garnet placed here for you, and write out a giant welcome sign on it, along with the class title and your name. You could've probably written it a little more eloquently.. eh. The gems aren't going to care. There's some sudden yelling coming from around you, so you turn to look - one of the Amethysts nearly dropped her side of the glass because someone bumped her — aaaand it's Spinel, with Bismuth next to her, who are reading over some blueprints.

You stand there, hoping Spinel hasn't seen you. She doesn't know your class got moved, but you're positive she was supposed to be working with not Bismuth today. Great. You don't need a reason to be any more anxious about this than you are, even if seeing her pink hair kind of sets you also at ease. 

More people and gems walk by loudly, and you start to wonder if you're going to need a megaphone. You grab your stack of papers, and go over your notes on your bench while you bide your time until it's noon.

About five minutes pass, and someone sits next to you on your bench. 

"Heyyyy." A familiar voice speaks, and you look up - you're greeted with the smiling face of that rose quartz you've bumped into twice. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Oh, it's you," You reply, a bit off-guard. You weren't expecting anyone to sit and chat with you, nonetheless the very specific gem you keep randomly meeting. 

"Saw you sitting here, and wanted to say hello before I went to this class I signed up for," She holds out her hand, her bright smile not making you feel as uneasy as it did the previous day. "I realized I never introduced myself. You can call me Rosie, if you want. The other quartzes have taken a liking to it."

"Rosie, huh.. that's actually a nice name. Mine's Y/N." You return her smile, and shake her hand.. which is strangely soft.

"Are you here for the lesson too? I'm pretty excited about this one, this has to be the most interesting class they've got on the current schedule right now." She leans in, putting an arm up on the bench back for support. More gems have started to gather in the centre now. 

"I am, but I'm actually the one teaching it.." You reply almost sheepishly, and her eyes widen in response.

"You're teaching it?!" She lights up immediately. "I thought it was just gonna be one of the other gems! No wonder so many came here from Homeworld for this!"

"... you're pulling my leg, right? How would any of them have heard of this? We only posted this class within the last week, and just on the singular board." You feel the bubbles of dread in your stomach. Or maybe that's just the excessive caffeine.

"I heard a couple talking about fliers over there, I'm not sure, but they were so excited." She takes a second to look around, and lowers her voice briefly. "I heard that one of the Diamonds wanted to attend, even."

WHAT. Your brain cannot deal with this information.

"B-but they're not, right?" You hear your voice waver, and you push your creeping anxiety down. "I don't think I can deal with a Diamond here, today."

She laughs, and it's not mockingly. It's almost sweet, actually.

"That would be something, wouldn't it?" She winks at you, a light smile on her face. "But no. I don't see their gaudy ships, so I think you can rest easy."

“Phewwwww,” You dramatically wipe your hands down your face, and let out a groan. “I was so worried there for a sec. What would the Diamonds care about interacting with humans, anyway? So absurd.”

“I have no idea,” She giggles at your antics. “Your guess would be about as good as mine.”

You see Spinel staring in your general direction, and your heart rate speeds up when you see her eyes connect with yours. Her face lights up like you’re the best thing she’s ever seen in her life, and you can’t stop the goofy smile that breaks out on your face. You wave at her, and she nearly drops the box she’s holding to enthusiastically wave back.

“Who’s that?” Rosie asks, face turned to peer at Spinel way over there.

“My girlfriend.” Is what comes out of your mouth automatically, and she whips her head back to stare at you with a strange face.

“You’re dating a gem?!” She hisses out, clearly shocked as her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline.

“Yes - jeez, why does everyone always react this way - and it’s not THAT weird, before you ask,” You say, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment.

“And a Spinel, of all gems? No offense.” She looks back over to stare at said pink-haired gem, before turning back to you. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You give her a look, taking immediate offense to her statement. She brings her hands up in defense.

“I didn’t mean it like - It’s just, Spinels seemed to always be designed for friendship; not romance. I’ve physically witnessed three dating catastrophes between them and other gems, in my time.”

“Well, my Spinel is perfectly fine.” You say, and it comes out a little more aggressively than you had wanted, and she recoils a bit. “But thanks for your concern.”

“I'm sorry, it wasn’t my intention to offend you.” She at least has the decency to look apologetic. “How long have you two been dating?”

“We just started this week..” You answer.

“New relationship, huh.” She looks like she’s studying your face, and you’re not sure how you feel about it. “I do wish you two the best,”- There’s a sudden low murmur in the group of gems nearby you, and you look over to see what they’re mumbling about.

Fucking hell.

Jasper, yeah THAT Jasper, is standing over in the now pretty fucking large crowd of gems that’s gathered to attend your class, and you don’t know whether to laugh or scream. 

“Whoa, she’s huge.” Rosie does a double-take at said gem, eyes widening hilariously.

“Yeah, a huge bitch. Jasper fucking hates humans, why the hell is she even here?” You groan, hoping that maybe she’ll just sit quietly and not make any remarks or heckle the other students.

"You know her?" She asks, amused by your response.

"Unfortunately, thanks to Steven." 

"That kid is some kind of magnet for problems of all shapes and sizes." She laughs, shaking her head.

"You don't even know the half of it.." You give her a tired look, and she laughs even more. She asks you a few more questions about Steven and your life, and you answer them truthfully while attempting to distract your anxiety.

-

A hundred gems is your turnout. A bit over, actually, and a handful of humans too.

You maybe feel just a little in over your head with this, but, well.. it's too late now. You spot quite a few gems you've seen before in the crowd, as well as Onion of course, and your neighbor George. You even spot Buck sitting in the middle of a group of Lapis who look like they're discussing heavy gossip with him, and he's actually engaged. Interesting.

There are.. so many eyes peering at you. You've never talked to a crowd this big in your entire life, and public speaking has never been your strong suit. But these gems came here for a specific reason, and goddammit, the thought of Pearl or Sour Cream teaching this instead in your place just doesn't sit right with you at this point.

You greet the class once the volume dies down enough, and a wave of enthusiastic greetings come back at you. You see Garnet in the corner and she gives you a thumbs up, and honestly it makes you feel a lot better that she's here.

You start off with your orientation notes, and talk generally about the basics, mainly about the similarities between gems and humans as common ground. Literally only about three minutes into this class, and a quartz that is most likely from Homeworld raises her hand. You call on her.

"Is it true that humans eat their younglings?" She shouts out from the middle of the crowd, her vibrant purple hair half covering one of her eyes. 

"Er," You stumble on your words, a little perturbed that that's the first question you get. "No, humans don't eat their young at all, you're probably confusing us with some other species."

She nods, like that sounds like the right answer, and then about twenty more hands shoot up.

"Let's save the questions until I at least get through this pile of papers, guys," You insist, and a noise of disapproval comes from near the front left side of the group. You turn your head, and.. it's fucking Jasper. Does she know that you'd throw hands with her if it were not for the fact that you're trying to be professional? 

You completely ignore her, and continue on with what you were previously talking about.

A good 20-25 minutes pass, and you're now in a good place to stop so people can ask their questions. A few humans you don't recognize ask you about how you know so much, and you answer truthfully. You briefly talk about living with Steven and the Crystal Gems, and how easy it was to co-exist. 

A LOT more hands pop up after that. 

"This might sound strange, but how do you ask a human to be friends?" The Lapis you call on asks. 

"You can just ask. Humans do it too. Sometimes people prefer to form them naturally though, but if you guys are already talking then it's a good sign." 

"But what about if they scream at you?" Another gem blurts out, and you curb the bark of laughter that wants to escape from your mouth.

"Generally speaking, what do you do if a gem screams at you? Same principle. Guys, humans and gems are way more similar than you think, and communication is key in this." At least your voice is steady, and you don't really feel as anxious as you were before, since the class seems to actually be going smoother than you had thought.

The giant hand of the Morganite in the middle of the crowd waves frantically, and you call on her with amusement. It's kind of cute how excited and interested a lot of the gems are. "You seem to have a ton of gem friends, and I have no human friends! Could you be my first?" She yells at you.

"Oh, I don't see why not," You answer truthfully, feeling a bit sheepish and taken aback by her request. Once those words leave your lips though, half the crowd starts shouting - ME! ME TOO! COULD YOU BE MY FRIEND?? - and you can't help feeling a little flustered as you try to calm the class down, taking a few more regular questions to keep it going.

You don't even realize through the noise of the center of little Homeworld when you spot a camera crew at the edge of your crowd, setting something up. It's the fucking local news station, what the FUUUUUUUUCK. You try not to outwardly display your internal panic and it's proving to be one of the hardest things you've ever done.

"When did you get that scar?" Jasper stares at you from her seat, pointing to your face.

You freeze momentarily at the lack of tact in that question, and that's when you spot Spinel off to the side of the class, at the edge of the crowd of students. Your brain stutters.

"U-um. It was during an accident with my girlfriend." You blurt out quickly, and instantly regret those words. You should've fucking lied or something because you can see Rosie narrowing her eyes at you in the front.

"Is that why you look like that now?" Jasper grunts out, crossing her arms. If you could throttle her you would in a heartbeat.

"Yes." You state firmly, meeting her gaze. She looks a little surprised at your answers. "Anyway, moving on." You hear a few murmurs in the crowd after that, opting to ignore how anxious it makes you.

You answer a few more questions, and try to not look at Spinel who keeps raising her hand with the rest of the gems. Shouldn't she be working?! Oh god, of course the camera crew is actually filming something - you can barely offhandedly hear the reporter spouting off something about little Homeworld into the camera as it pans around him. 

Your heartbeats are hammering in your chest, but you move onto more questions and try to keep your cool. Eventually you can't ignore how obnoxiously your girlfriend is raising and waving her hand trying to get your attention - several gems around her keep pointing at her so you'll give her a chance.

Oh, little do they know.

You sigh, resigning to letting her ask a question.

"Spinel." You call on her with a pointer finger as neutrally as possible, which is way harder than you had thought.

"Finally!" She cries with a fist pump, and a few people around her chuckle. "I just wanted ‘ta ask, is it possible for a gem and a human to fuse?”

You feel yourself freeze on the spot, taken completely by surprise. There’s a couple murmurs among the crowd.

Why the fuck is she asking that.

“U-um, no, unfortunately there’s no way to do that because of the differences in our biological make-up,” You say, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment - there are so many eyes staring at you.

“Well that sucks!” A random gem in the crowd shouts, and quite a few gems erupt in laughter. 

You try your best to wind them down and finish with their many, many questions.

It isn’t long until the class is over - you had only taken up hour sessions, and you’re so thankful for it. The class went over well, and many gems walk up to you to chat and shake your hand, and the local news station seems to be interviewing a couple gems on what went on - you guess there’s some sort or segment they’re doing on Little Homeworld, and today just happens to be the day they chose to do that.

You avoid the camera crew as much as possible as you tidy up your belongings, and Spinel walks up to you as you gather your papers in your arms.

“That went pretty good!” She beams at you, looking proud. You squash your feelings of affection that overwhelm you - you wish you could kiss her if you were not in public.

“Yeah, and if you ever ask me a question like that in my classes again, I’m actually going to ban you. I’ll even put up a photo of your face so the other’s know to barr you from the class.” You scoff at her, and she completely disregards it, getting a little closer to you to give you a look that you recognise as her challenging you.

“That wouldn’t work on me anyway,” She grins, hand raising up to tuck the stray hair that just flew into your face - she looks to the side of you briefly as you hear footsteps and speaking - 

FUCKKK, THE REPORTER IS WALKING RIGHT OVER HERE.

Your eyes dart back to Spinel, body posed to leave. “U-Um, I gotta-”

“Ma’am! Maaaaa’am!” You hear the reporter shout at you. 

Cool cool, keep it cool. Just breathe. You want to vomit.

"You two look pretty close." He remarks as he jogs up to you, slightly out of breath. The cameraman follows him, and if you could run you would. But you'd rather not be turned into a local meme, so your feet are firmly planted in the spot. "I wanted to catch you before you left, Miss Teacher!" He smiles brightly at you - that you know is just for the camera. 

"I was just finishing up." You smile politely. 

"I wanted to ask you a few questions regarding the class you just held if that's alright with you?" He asks, adjusting the small mic on his collar. He also holds up the microphone that the logo of the local news station is emblazoned on.

"Sure." You feel your nerves go haywire. This is way, waaaay too much pressure for you, you feel like you're going to faint, the fucking cameraman just winked at you.

"What's your name, firstly." 

"Y/N." You answer him with just your first name, and he gives you a look. 

"Last name? You gotta have a last name." He insists. 

You tell him your last name, and his eyebrows furrow before they shoot up into his hairline.

"Last name, last name?" He implores, holding the microphone closer to your face.  "Like, -last name- the lawyer working on that Gem case in Empire city, -last name-!?"

Oh. You forgot about your father. 

"Y-yes," You stutter out in a panic, and instantly regret waking up this morning.

God fucking dammit.

[keoghans]

Hey Chuck

Hello and welcome to this Chuck Grant fanfic. I always loved this dude, and I see little to no work about him, so, I took it upon myself to do fic about him. I invented a character, his love interest, because I cant write reader insert, I just, it bothers the fuck out of me to write like that lmao. 

Special mentions for @notmykirk @liebthots @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @alphapockets for proofreading, giving ideas and helping a distressed, nervous writer lol, you lot were brilliant!

This is super angsty, but also filled with fluff and stupid cliches. 

Pairing: Chuck Grant x OC

Warnings: angst, shitloads of angst. Mention of rape. Slight, non-explicit smut. Cursing.  

Word Count: 12k (I know, IM SORRY)

Epilogue 

Three knocks and an anxious wait.

The door was opened by the tall ginger that didn’t seem to ever age. 

“Hannah Davis! What brings you here?” he exclaimed with a broad smile as he hugged her smaller frame. 

“How are you, sir? You look great!” she replied and he furrowed his eyebrows at her answer.

“Hannah, the war is over, it has been for a while, I go by Richard, Rich, or Dick, please,” he said, as he let her in his house. He sounded the same, warm, emphatic, funny. 

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” she replied, checking out his living room. He lived in a beautiful, tall house, very homey. It had a fireplace on and a half finished drink on the nearby table. 

“My wife went to visit her brother, a man that’s never approved of me, so I stayed back,” he explained, serving another drink for her. 

“I remember when you first told me that he wasn’t fond of you and I wondered, how the hell does someone not like Dick Winters?” she replied and they both chuckled. 

“Her parents like me, and so does she, so… it doesn’t really matter”. 

Hannah didn’t marry post war, and it had been only a year, but most of Easy Company was already having children, marrying or at least dating. 

She had her heart set on someone but she had lost all contact with him and the Army didn’t help her trying to get what she needed.

So, after an hour and a half of reminiscing about the war, about Austria and the Eagle’s Nest, Winters caught up to her.

“Hannah, with all due respect… I know this isn’t just a casual visit, or you would’ve brought Luz or someone else with you,” he started, trailing off for her to speak. 

Hannah chuckled cynically, the man had always been prone to read people like a piece of paper. She struggled for a few seconds, her nerves coming back to her, scratching the back of her head absentmindedly.

“I’ve been trying to find someone… Someone from the Company, and I don’t want to ask the rest of the men because… Well, if this fails, I don’t want it to be gossip between them; and the Army couldn’t help me, they cannot give out information about former paratroopers,” she explained. 

“I have all of the men’s information with me, so, who are you looking for? Though—some information can be outdated, I haven’t updated it in a couple of years,” Dick said, looking for an old black book that had ‘Easy’ embroidered in the front.

“Say the name.”

“Uh… Charles Grant—NCO Chuck Grant.” 

Rick smiled softly, looking down as he looked for his name in his book. 

“What?” she asked, slightly embarrassed. He knew.

“Nothing. Sergeant Grant is an exceptional man, I felt deeply for him when he got shot,” he explained and placed a ruler under his name, handing the notebook to Hannah.

“I know he is, that’s why I’m looking for him,” she said, looking down at his name, copying the information of his address and phone number. 

Richard looked at her with his usual witty, warm smile. 

“Thank you, Dick” she said, closing the notebook and giving it back.

“Like my wife would say, ‘go get him’.”

///

Hannah had Chuck’s address and phone for a month and a half. 

Every time she thought about calling him, or showing up at his place, fear shook her body and threw her back to square one. She had taken a cab to her former Major in the Paratroopers for forty five minutes to find a man’s address and she couldn’t actually talk to him. 

Hannah laid in her bed, after a long day at the hospital. She was eating leftover carrot cake she had made a week ago, feeling dreadful, looking at the little paper with Chuck’s name sitting on her bedside table, and remembered the many times they shared. 

Bastogne was the coldest hell Hannah had ever experienced, and she knew it was never leaving her head after everything that transpired.

The trees exploded every now and again. As desperation settled inside each mind, everyone started wondering which was getting killed next. 

Then the casualties came: Joe Toye and Guarnere lost each other one leg to mortars, Don Hoobler accidentally shot himself in the leg and the blood loss took his life. Muck and Penkala got blown to pieces by another mortar. 

She had tried to save as many lives as possible as she had to shoot Germans from afar, fearing death every single second she moved around the snow covered forest.

She had short moments of peace, and most were laying in a foxhole, trying to gather some warmth, next to Chuck. 

Her body shook as she blew into her hands, trying to gain back feeling on her fingertips when Charles looked at her and grabbed her hands without a word, covering them with his calloused fingers, scooting closer to her. 

She was slightly taken aback. 

Chuck wasn’t a man of many words, he communicated more with his eyes and small expressions. He politely smiled at her as he rubbed his hands against her. 

“Thanks,” she muttered, nuzzling her chin deeper into her scarf that was tucked into her jumpsuit. 

Chuck just looked at her and kept rubbing their hands together. She noticed her blue eyes looking bright from the full moon shining down the forest. 

“I always hated the winter time, back in the states… and now more,” Chuck said, breaking the silence between them. 

“I know, I prefer to be burning under the sun rather than freezing my butt off.” 

“Cold beers,” he added.

“The beach.”

“Dipping into a river or the sea.”

Both exchanged small smiles. 

Chuck had always noticed Hannah, and stared silently at her many times, but barely exchanged a few words in the second year of their training, when she arrived in Toccoa. He knew she was Shifty’s friend, and someone who Winters relied on and trusted from what Powers had said to help her get into the Paratroopers. 

And she had proved herself useful, not only as a doctor, but as a sharpshooter, taking down snipers that others didn’t notice at first. She used to compete with Shifty on how many Krauts took down each.

Hannah always knew who he was, she remembered every and each name of the company, by nicknames mostly. He definitely called for her attention; he was polite, shy, only mustered a few jokes here and there, not like Luz, who couldn’t speak without joking. 

But she was never as interested in him until he helped her find warmth in a shattering cold in Belgium. 

Hannah remembered that with a smile—their first and probably closest interaction. It only took snow, people dying around them and a whole war for it to happen.

Friday, she thought, Friday would be a good thing for me to approach his house if, luckily, he didn’t move out before. 

///

Anxiety. Lots of. 

Hannah wasn’t on call at the hospital on Friday. She and her best friend, scheduled everything.

Angelina made sure she couldn’t back out of looking for the former paratrooper. She had helped her pick an outfit, helped with her hair, the whole ordeal. 

“Okay, go, go! It’s barely past noon, it’s a beautiful day, maybe y’all can go for a walk,” angelina said, taking a sip from her lemonade. 

Hannah was barely talking, her hands shook, she felt her pits damp with sweat, with a tight knot in her stomach. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, okay… I’m going, whatever, what could go wrong, what the fuck, he could only think I’m a fucking stalker, whatever right? Fuck—.”

“Oh my god, get out, I’ll take care of Trigger, let him have a stroll, and if by any chance you spend the night there—” she said, with a wink— “call me so I’ll stay and give Trigger his morning walkies,” Angelina commanded as she pushed Hannah through the door. 

“Good luck, honey!” She yelled as Hannah dragged her feet through the hot cement under the July sun. 

Every little thing that could go wrong played in her mind as she walked. Grant lived roughly twenty blocks away from her but she still wanted to walk there, to make it as slow as possible. 

Hannah checked the address in the small, torn piece of paper she had it written on and looked for 1612 for a bit, until she finally saw it.

It was a beautiful, tall white house, with a dark grey roof, a small porch with a couple of rocking chairs. A lot of small pots with flowers and different plants covered most of the front of the porch, which made Hannah think that there was clearly a woman living there. 

That made fear struck her again.

He’s probably married, there are rocking chairs and plants… none of the men of the paratroopers cared about fucking plants, why would Charles be any different? 

Fuck it.

Hannah shook her head, her curls moving along, stomped the ground after pondering for a couple of minutes, away from the house and took a few deep breaths before she walked up the three steps before the door and, with a shaky breath, knocked three times and took a step back, giving the door her back. 

She could sense her muscles completely tense, everywhere, arms, legs, stomach, and wondered why the hell she never got her anxiety completely treated like her PTSD from the war. 

What if a woman opened the door? I’d pretend I got the wrong house and run for the fucking hills. 

“Yes?” a deep voice said from behind her. 

Hannah could’ve swore her heart stopped for a split second.

She turned in her heel with the riddled feeling in her stomach when she met those bright blue eyes and the permanently tanned skin of Sergeant of Second Platoon, Charles Grant. 

His usual disheveled look was intact, she noticed, the droopy eyes and the resting annoyed face that was his trademark was still there, but it did change in a moment when he realized quickly who she was. His eyes widened as his jaw dropped slightly. 

“Hannah? Hannah Davis?!” he exclaimed, opening the door wider, taking a step forward shyly. 

Hannah swore her heart was thumping against her chest like a hammer, and was actually afraid Chuck would notice it. But all he did was try to find the words, stuttering slightly as he took a look at her.

“Hey, Chuck,” she said, trying to find her voice back from somewhere in her throat. 

Charles let a single chuckle out of his mouth before, sort of awkwardly, pulled her for a hug, crossing his left arm around her torso and the other one, around the shoulders.

Hannah was a hundred percent sure her heart could arrest at any moment and die right there. The man was hugging her. And she was hugging him back, the same way, when his perfume surrounded her and she closed her eyes for a moment, lingering her head above his shoulder, every single feeling she had ever felt for him rushing back into her stomach, untying the knot slightly, filling it with butterflies. 

“What a surprise! Come on in,” he said, as they parted, moving aside so she could walk inside first. 

Clean, super clean. The fact that the house was so clean yelled wife! in Hannah’s face. But she shook the thoughts aside, trying to focus on walking and trying not to bump into anything and make a mess of herself in front of Chuck. 

“You like it? I’ve been trying to decorate myself but… I don’t know, looks shitty to me still,” he added, standing next to her as she looked at old signs of tobacco brands, and a couple of paintings up white walls, complemented with an olive couch with three seats, a coffee table and a TV in front. 

And books, everywhere. Different sized, colored, some put in a small library in the corner, near the couch. Some were sprawled over on the coffee table and one on the couch, open and faced down. 

She took the books as the cue to find out and get it over with. 

“You and—and your wife must read a lot,” she said, sniggering internally as she awaited for an answer. 

Chuck let out a hearty chuckle, looking suddenly a bit embarrassed at her. 

“Uh, I’m not married,” he said, forming a thin-lipped, awkward smile on his lips. Hannah felt how her shoulders relaxed at the information.

“Oh—sorry, it’s just… It looks very homey, and you know, women do that work mostly,” she said, trying to sound innocent. 

“I learned a bit from my mom, and I found out that I really enjoy gardening and plants in general, that’s why there’s that many on the outside porch. Luz told me I was becoming a woman, I said, ‘what’s wrong with being a woman’?” Chuck said, scratching the back of his neck. 

“He fought side by side with one, and he still says that crap?” Hannah asked, remembering George Luz, the clown of the company. “Fuck him, I like how it looks, it’s homey and… looks warm, you know?”

Chuck nodded his head proudly, trying to shoot down a smile that tried to creep up, slightly blushing. 

“Listen, I was roasting some chicken, are you hungry? I have beers, too,” he said, pulling her by her wrist softly. This touch sent electricity up Hannah’s arm as she nodded silently, following him. 

She was sort of surprised by his cheerfulness. He was a very lowkey man, never spoke too loud, unless he wanted to mock one of his peers with Luz or Guarnere. He fumbled around the kitchen for a bit, before going through the back door to the backyard, where he had a barbecue against the wall.

And she could see him work, cutting up the chicken while it was still roasting, and noticed how he hadn’t put up any weight since coming back from the war, or losing any from the anxiety and PTSD. He had kept in form, his arms still big, as his shoulders, the black sleeves of the shirt sticking tight against them. 

Jesus, stop that! 

Lost in her thoughts, looking around the kitchen, she didn’t notice Chuck was back with two small sandwiches in hand, leaving them on a couple of plates as he quickly moved to grab two Crystals. 

“My brother taught me this amazing sauce, and it’s like pulled pork, but pulled chicken,” he explained, almost proudly of his handiwork. Hannah smiled and took a bite on it. 

Instantly, she had to suppress a moan that was about to fall out of her full mouth, as she widened her eyes at him. He smiled as he chewed and nodded his head like saying I know, right? 

After downing her bite with a bit of beer, Hannah finally breathed out to compliment his food, making Chuck blush again. 

“So, uh… what brings you here? Did you need anything?” Chuck asked, taking a sip of his beer again. 

I wanted to confess that I had feelings for you since you helped me warm up in a foxhole in Bagstone and you saved my ass when I got shot and you dragged me into a jeep to be taken away for a bit to heal, and I always wanted to kiss you for that but I’m such a fucking wuss, I never even dared to flirt. 

“Oh, no, no, I didn’t come to ask any favors, no,” she replied, chuckling nervously, “I—I’m gonna be honest with you; when we came back from Europe, I knew you had to do some recovery from the shot you took, that would need rehabilitation and… I was dealing with so much I couldn’t stay and I felt like shit for a long while for that—Shit, this sounds like I’m doing this to sleep better at night but no, I just want to say: I’m sorry, I should’ve been there like you were when I lost my ear to a kraut bullet, Chuck, I’m really sorry, and I wanted to check on you, see how you were doing…” 

It wasn’t a complete lie, Hannah knew that, but she still felt like what she needed to actually say was heavy in her chest. 

Chuck smiled, and turned his head slightly, pulling his hair up a bit. 

“The scar goes all the way to the back of my head, I—I should’ve died by the extent of my wound, but, it was mostly sup—superficial. My left arm is partially paralyzed,” he explained, lifting both arms at the same time but the left one was left behind as the right kept going up. “And sometimes it’s hard to s—” he closed his eyes as he struggled to say the word, his tongue frozen in the roof of his mouth for a couple of seconds— “speak, like, right now.” 

Hannah looked sorry, like a dog with a tail between its hind legs, feeling ashamed. 

“Don’t feel bad, I had my family and some of the men to help me, and very good doctors too, really, it’s not like you had to take care of me, you know,” Chuck added, grinning warmly at her. “George, Doc Roe and Speirs came almost daily to help, I was set; speaking of wounds, how’s the ear?”

Hannah moved her hair away to show him the scarred and dusty pink skin that reattached to her head after it got blown off in the Battle of the Bulge. 

Bullets and mortars were falling down the territory Easy Company covered. As much as anyone avoids talking about fear, they were all terrorized; the lack of winter gear, clothes, ammo, and food kept them all weak.

Hannah and Chuck were shooting non-stop, both with shaky breaths as they were still covered under a wool blanket, where only the gun and their eyes could be seen. 

“Hannah! Hannah, go help Shifty!” she heard Lip call her as he ran past. She sighed, not wanting to be any closer to the flying gunshots that were showering horizontally on them. 

“Go, it’s okay, go!” Chuck exclaimed, looking at her swiftly as he kept shooting. 

Hannah groaned in annoyance but still climbed up the hole. 

Chuck watched at her go, though her walk got cut short. She froze in her place and he knew something was wrong, and in a split second, she was on the cold ground, yelling her lungs out.

“Shit, shit, shit, hold on, Hannah! Medic!! Medic!!” he yelled as he let his rifle in the hole, crawling to check on the brunette. 

As soon as he turned her body around, his face grimaced in shock. She had blood flowing from her side into her cheek, eyes and mouth, as she gasped for a breath, steam coming from her mouth from the sheering cold. 

He moved her hair slowly, uncovering what was left of her ear, hanging from skin threads, almost completely shredded from her skull. It was an awful view, and the crimson liquid kept flowing and flowing. 

“What is it? Let me see, Grant, move!” Eugene Roe exclaimed, pushing the other soldier aside, checking the wound thoroughly. Hannah had stopped yelling, shock had settled in her body, covering her from the pain. 

“It’s superficial, but you will need someone to cut off the rest. Help me get her to the jeep, Grant,” he said after covering the hole with sulfate and a white bandage that went across her face. 

“Hannah, you’re going to be just fine, stay with us, come on!” Eugene yelled as Chuck lifted her from her back and legs, her face falling into his shoulder, bleeding on his jacket. 

Chuck glanced at her every few moments as he ran to where her ride was stationed, she looked paler by the second that passed, her eyes were closing and he had to keep calling at her to stay awake.

“Hannah, come on, come on, stay with me, stay with me!”

When she was finally strapped down the bed on the front of the sheet, he held her hand for a second before she was pulled away, disappearing into the woods as he had to ran back to his foxhole and keep defending their territory. 

But he kept wondering and wondering about her, until she came back two days after. 

“You came back almost good as new, ear-less, stitched up,” Chuck said, reminiscing.

“And I had to tolerate thousands of ear related jokes for weeks, and got called ‘Earnnah’ too” Hannah said, making them both laugh.

“Fucking Luz and his nicknames,” Charles said, shrugging.

“Anyways, I still don’t have an ear, but the flu I was going through had clogged my eardrum and saved me from being deaf on one side, right?” Hannah added, lifting her beer bottle to cheer for that.

“To the flu, baby!” he said and both drank.

A couple of hours went by and both Chuck and Hannah were already feeling more comfortable in each other’s presence. They laughed about some anecdotes, and updated on their current lifestyles.

“So, a tobacco store?” Hannah said, standing under the sun in the backyard, enjoying the warmth of a summer afternoon, much more relaxed. 

“Yeah, it was my post war dream, and I finally gathered what I needed to open it, it’s in downtown, 5th ave and Charleston. It’s cosy, small, but good enough to sell small things,” Chuck explained, clearly proud of his achievement. “You should come by sometime”. 

“I would, but I quit smoking a few weeks ago,” Hannah replied and Chuck looked surprised. 

“Really?” he asked, propping himself against a column he had set to sustain a small roof he had put up in his yard. 

“Yeah, but I’ll probably hit withdrawal soon and I’ll go back to square one quickly,” she replied, mocking herself and her power of will, making Chuck laugh.

“You still sing?” Chuck asked, and she knew exactly why he asked. “I still remember when we found that piano in the Eagle’s Nest, and you sang a few songs to us,” he said and a very small grin creeped up his lips, looking down at his hands. 

That was one of Hannah’s proudest moments. 

“I do remember that, and I still sing, yeah.”

The war had lightened up, somehow. 

Easy Company was on the works to clear the way into the old Nazi Town of Kehlsteinhaus, where they knew, at the top of the mountain, resides the crown jewel of the Nazi Party. A very glamorous house made only for Hitler and his closests friends. 

Winters dictated for the Easy Company to head straight to the Eagle’s Nest, after raiding the town and finding a place to settle for a bit. 

Hannah heard Speirs yelling the orders and they didn’t even think for a second before they started running up the mountain road towards the House. She ran next to Chuck, Popeye and Malarkey. 

They entered the premises slowly, looking around for Krauts, their guns up in arms. And all of them were surprised by the size of the place from the inside. 

It had grey walls, with bay windows every few meters, the sun shining through, illuminating the whole place. There were a few tables with a few chairs each, some silver plates and vases scattered around the living room, a fireplace, and on the far end, a grand, black and shiny piano. 

Hannah was immediately drawn to it, forgetting about the men popping bottles of champagne they found lying around, remembering instantly the songs her grandfather had once taught her when she was younger. 

The boys weren’t paying attention until they heard the first few notes Hannah pressed on. 

“Davis, you can play?” Spiers asked her as they got closer. 

I waited till I saw the sun, don’t know why I didn’t come

Hannah started singing, as a way to reply Speirs. 

Chuck was certainly taken aback by her singing voice, she had never mentioned before she could do that, that she had even learned or anything she did apart from training for the paratroopers and hang with Shifty. 

When I saw the break of day

I wished that I could fly away

Instead of kneeling in the sand

Catching teardrops in my hand

Her fingers seemed to be dancing around the keys like she had been doing that for a lifetime, as her voice shone through the notes she played. There was a sudden peace brought by the song, which no one could remember having heard before that moment. 

Chuck sensed his body relaxing, as he looked at the brunette who met his eyes not too long after.

My heart is drenched in wine

But you'll be on my mind

Forever

For a fleeting moment, Chuck felt no one was there but him and Hannah, as she kept singing, his breath catching in his chest, leaving him breathless. He knew he had been looking at Hannah with different eyes for a while, but he never actually realized it completely until that moment. 

Something has to make you run

I don't know why I didn't come

I feel as empty as a drum

I don't know why I didn't come

I don't know why I didn't come

“From then on, you guys would ask me to sing every time we found a piano laying somewhere in the abandoned cottages,” Hannah remembered, smiling at the memory. 

“Well, you do have a beautiful voice that puts everyone at ease, you know,” he complimented and Hannah could feel how her pulse accelerated at his compliment, cursing herself internally for being so weak for her former NCO. 

“It's mid-afternoon, care for a tea?” Charles asked, when he noticed her blushing, not answering his compliment, knowing he had hit somewhere inside her with it. 

“I can make a quick cake with anything you have in your kitchen, if you want to…” Hannah said, almost rushedly, trying to cover her tracks. Yeah, that doesn’t sound weird at all, Hannah, you fucking wuss, offering to bake a cake after a couple of hours chatting and trying to cover your stupid feelings, sure, yeah. 

“Kitchen’s all yours,” Chuck said with a grin, looking for his kettle to boil water while Hannah looked for her ingredients for a classic vanilla cake. 

As Hannah whisked the ingredients, Chuck served two mugs with boiling tea, placing one next to her as he watched her focused in his kitchen. 

“I swear, most men of the company don’t have all this stuff laying in their kitchen,” she said, still looking down at the mix.

“I’m not most men,” Chuck replied and both chuckled at his comment. “Oh, look here,” he said suddenly, making Hannah turn around.

A black cat with a small bell in his neck walked in, stretching its legs, and walked up to Chuck, placing its front paws in the dirty blonde legs. 

“This is Roe, I got him a few months ago, he walked in with a broken hind leg and never left this house,” Chuck explained, taking the cat into his arms, which made him start purring loudly. Hannah proceeded to pet him, sliding her fingertips slowly in the soft fur of the head. 

“He’s so handsome!” 

“Thank you,” replied Charles, earning a small slap in his arm by Hannah, who chuckled as she kept petting the kitty. 

“You saying you took care of this kitty reminded me of that nun who changed my bandages in Foye, in that church, remember that? She came straight to me, wondering how a woman is in the Forces, and silently, pulled my face and cleaned me up,” Hannah said, remembering the face of the woman in the black typical suit of a nun. 

“She didn’t treat anyone but you, which was either great or very selfish of her,” Chuck said, jokingly.

“She was in a convent, they take care of women mostly, and I am one, so…” she trailed off, wanting to slap the grin out of his face as she felt her heart melting to the view of Chuck, holding a cat between his arms like a child. My uterus is flipping about. “It’s not like no one took care of you boys.” 

“What are you talking about?” Chuck wondered. 

“Holland. All those women, and food, and drinks, and praising,” Hannah said as she put the mix in the oven. She could hear Charles laughing at her comments.

 “I wasn’t doing anything there, I did accept food though.” 

“Oh, Chuck, come on, I saw you with that blonde that was taller than you, kissing you non-stop,” Hannah exclaimed, way too quickly for her comfort, and turned around, pretending to check on the oven temperature; Could you be any more obvious, Hannah, dear?

“You sound jealous,” Chuck replied, with a smirk and furrowed eyebrows.

“I—okay, yes, I was; everyone was treating you all like goddamn heroes and whatnot, while I got questionable looks and fingers pointing at me for being a woman in a uniform… Hell, they must have thought I was the squad’s whore or something,” she defended herself, trying to not blow her cover that easy in front of his intense eyes looking at her from a few meters. 

Chuck felt bad for a moment. He knew she was proud of being the first woman fighting alongside men in a war, knowing she had earned the respect of many, many people, but there was still a long way to go to be accepted by the population in general. 

“Yeah, I wanted someone to kiss me too and give me drinks, I deserved that too, I didn’t have any physical contact with anyone as much as y’all in that time,” Hannah kept going, the anxiousness to cover herself up from showing feelings almost drowning her. 

“I’m sure you would’ve gotten a kiss if you just asked,” replied Chuck, taking a sip from his tea while still holding Roe. “I would have if you asked me.”

Did my heart just stop? Did it just… really stop? Quick, don’t linger in silence too much!

“You’ve always been such a gentleman, Grant, but that was impossible. First, we were in the Forces together and that was very forbidden. Second, I couldn’t ask people for that, that’s just sad and I didn’t look like any of the women there, my hair wasn’t done, I was wearing our uniform and probably didn’t smell the best there,” Hannah clarified, trying to not sound too rushed again. 

“Okay, yeah, partially true, but you don’t need to be all fixed up to be pretty, though.”

He knows and now he wants to play soccer with my fucking heart. Goodness, I hope he doesn’t know.

“To be honest, it’s not like I came back to the states and started dating and whatnot… I did adopt a dog, his name is Trigger, like the one Tab had back in the day,” Hannah said, trying to clear herself. “Oh, and Tab asked me out like a year ago,” she suddenly remembered. 

“Floyd?! R—really?” Chuck asked, clearly surprised. 

“Yeah, he showed up once, with flowers and everything. It was so sweet but Tab is like my little brother, so I let him down slowly and luckily, he accepted it and we’re still friends,” she explained, remembering how disappointed he looked for a second before she explained herself to him and he took it with humour and saved their friendship from awkwardness. 

All the while, Chuck laughed heartily. 

“What? Oh, don’t laugh at him! He’s so sweet, he was always nice with me, even when most doubted the presence of a woman at war, come on,” Hannah defended Talbert, throwing a paper towel ball straight to his face. 

“Hey! No need to get violent!” Chuck retaliated, throwing it back at her. “I can’t believe little ol’ Tab asked you out,” he added, chuckling. 

“You’re all always making fun of people who ask me out or flirt with me,” Hannah added, a sneer creeping up her lips. “Remember that one British soldier?” 

The Company had saved a hundred and forty brit soldiers, without any casualties. Everyone walked back to camp cheerfully but in silence until they entered the barn. 

Hannah didn’t feel as cheerful as the rest. She had been carrying a small infection under her tongue for a few days and cramps were attacking her every now and again, which she didn’t share with anyone trying to avoid some sexist comment about the nature of women. 

Booze was being passed around the brits and the company as everyone cheered and applauded for their exceptional work. Hannah did enjoy seeing all the grins and wide smiles spread around, while she stood in the side, leaning against a thin wooden column, rubbing her back to ease the pain. 

“Moose Heyliger and the American 101st have done the Red Devils a great service, making it possible for us to return and fight the enemy another day,” the captain of the British soldiers exclaimed to the crowd of paratroopers and the Red Devils. “To Easy Company, victory, and Currahee!”

Everyone cheered, drinking profusely, laughing and all around happy, until the same captain interrupted them for a second.

“Oh, and let us not forget to cheer for one more thing: the first woman in the Forces who was part of this mission, Miss…” 

Hannah wasn’t paying attention, she was completely zoned out on the side, until she heard her name being called a few times. She looked up to the Captain, who had his drink up and looking at her.

“Oh—Oh, Hannah, Hannah Davis!” she replied, a little startled. 

“To Hannah Davis!” The cheers erupted once again, but everyone was now looking at Hannah, who blushed furiously at the attention she was receiving. She just gave them all a tight lipped smile, her eyes drifting from one side to another. 

“So, congratulations are in order, ma’am.” A thick British accent interrupted Hannah’s thoughts a while after she had been cheered on. She turned around to find a tall man with a buzz cut, his red beret and a pointy nose. And a very warm smile. 

“Thank you, private…?”

“Joe Seaward, and it’s Sergeant now,” he clarified, taking his beret off as he took a drink. “How is the Force treating you? Good, I hope?”

“Very good, sir, they feel like family already. At first it was weird for them, but I was vouched for by the Battalion chief, and one of the men, who is an old friend from his hometown,” she replied, feeling slightly intimidated by the brit. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling comfortable. And hometown! Where would that be, if I may ask?” 

“Atlanta, Georgia. Can I ask you where are you from?” she asked, looking up at him. Hannah could feel the eyes of Easy on them, but she didn’t dare to look back at them. 

“Birmingham, born and raised,” Joe replied, looking proud. “Uh, anyone expecting you back home?” he suddenly asked, and Hannah understood what he was referring to. 

“No, apart from family, no one special,” she replied, and just got interrupted by another voice yelling at them.

“Sergeant Seaward! We’re leaving, come on!” Joe looked annoyed all of a sudden. 

“Well, ma’am, if this isn’t too forward, when this war is over, and luckily, we’re both still alive and well, why don’t you stay in England for a while and… maybe we can go to dinner together?” He said, rushing as he took a few steps back. 

Hannah thought for a second and, feeling like she had nothing to lose and after not being flirted by anyone in two years, she replied “Sure, Sergeant, if we both survive…”. 

Joe smirked deeply and quickly found a paper and a battered small pencil, scribbling in it and placed it in her hands, before kissing the back of it. 

“You’ll find me with that. Take care, Hannah Davis! Cheerio!” 

Hannah felt like a child meeting her first crush, blushing, with a dumb smile in her face, until she heard the sniggering paratroopers behind her. 

“What?” she asked, already looking annoyed at them as she turned to find them in a half circle around her.

“What was that ‘bout, Davis?” Bull asked with one lifted eyebrow. 

“Nothing–”

“Not nothing, that brit was flirting with you!” Liebgott exclaimed, his lip curled as his eyes darted between the door of the barn and her. 

“The fuck is the problem with that?” Hannah asked.

“No fraternization with soldiers in the Forces,” Chuck added, looking down at his hands. 

“Oh, fuck all of you. It’s the first time someone comes and tells me I’m pretty in two years, when y’all had women throwing themselves at you back at Eindhoven!” Hannah defended herself, shutting them all up. “It’s not like I’m actually going to do something about it, I might be dead tomorrow anyways”. 

“He looks stupid and he’s a brit, we’re all a better catch than him!” Martin added, inflating his chest. 

“The only decent man here is Doc Roe, and you all know that for a fact. I’m going to sleep for a bit, goodnight” she said, walking away from them, breaking the half circle without looking back. 

“I still have that small, battered piece of paper with me, but I never went to see him,” Hannah added, smirking at the thought. “I should’ve stayed in England and find him, honestly”. 

Chuck frowned, “why? Was he really that interesting?”. 

“He was sweet, he had a very attractive accent and hell, how many men do you know that say ‘cheerio!’ When saying goodbye?” Hannah defended Sergeant Seaward.

“Oh, stop talking talking about him already” Chuck said, dismissing her comments with a frown.

“Who’s jealous now, huh?” Hannah joked, pushing him slightly. Chuck just laughed bitterly.

///

Chuck showed her around the house, apologizing for forgetting to do a tour when she first came in.

He showed him some old pictures he had from high school that his mom had taken of him, some of his own family, and even a photo from a high school girlfriend he still had. Charles told him they were still in contact because her family was close to his, until he went to the war and she moved out of the usual address. 

“It’s like the time I was away, fighting, home became a black hole in my memory, like…It couldn’t possibly exist at the same time I was away.” 

Hannah enjoyed learning more from his past, and suddenly wondered if he had ever known what happened and how Easy reacted when they found out he had gotten shot. 

Charles was looking down at a picture when she popped the question. 

“Chuck, did you uh—did anyone ever tell you what happened with Easy when you… When that replacement shot you?” 

He suddenly took a seat on the couch, looking up at her. There was something on his eyes that she couldn’t decipher, but it was between fear and curiosity; his fingers went to linger over his scar absentmindedly. 

“No, I—the guys never told me anything, and I didn’t dare to ask, honestly.” 

“Do you, uh… Do you want to know?” Hannah asked. Chuck nodded, his lips seeming sewn shut. She took a seat next to him, the air suddenly completely filled with tension. 

“Well, you had patrol and we were relaxing in the house, playing cards, some asleep, most smoking and chatting about the end of the war. Also about the points, but, that’s not important.”

“Then, the door of the living room burst open with a pale, very pale and shook Tab. ‘Grant got shot in the head’ was the first thing he muttered. You know, there wasn’t any music around us, but it seemed like it had stopped. The relaxing atmosphere was cut off like when the lights go out with a switch.” Chuck was staring at her, his attention fully on her. 

“But we didn’t have that much time to like… process. Floyd had received orders to find the shooter, and we practically went around the whole town and the ones nearby looking for him. We had the order to bring him alive but neither wanted to lose the chance to put a bullet in him. We were organized in groups, and we divided in three or four people each.”

“We ended up finding him still in Zell Am See. Malarkey found him with Bull and Lieb, they found him trying—” She took a pause, her stomach turning slightly at the memory— “trying to rape an Austrian girl. She was saved, thankfully, and he was brought back to the house where he took the beating of his lifetime”

By that point, Chuck jaw was opened, but his eyes seemed calmer, somehow.

“Did you beat him too?” he asked. Hannah suddenly broke eye contact, looking down at her fingernails fidgeting together.

“Yes, but I only punched him, the rest did the real beating… I was so angry when I found out he was in the house, I burst through the door and went straight with my knuckles to his jaw. I had my hand bruised for weeks. You were away at that point, Speirs and Roe had found a Kraut brain surgeon and got him to work in you as soon as they could. But we didn’t know if you were alive or not. After the rest took their turn with the replacement, Speirs had come back, saying the surgeon confirmed you were going to be okay; then they dragged the son of a bitch over to the MP’s.”

Hannah felt ashamed, her body seemed to be burning when the memories of that moment revived in her.

“I was so scared you were gonna die, Chuck… I wasn’t there when Speirs confirmed you were going to be okay, and I just—I lost it at that moment,” she added, a knot forming in her throat. “Lieb found me, while I was sitting in a room upstairs, on a bed, in the dark, cursing and crying. It wasn’t only you that made me cry, but… I cared about you, you know. You were my friend, we went through the worst together and I thought I had lost y—,” Hannah’s voice broke, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. 

“Hey, hey, Hannah, I’m here, aren’t I?” Chuck said, scooting closer, placing a hand on her knee and another rubbing her back. “I’m sorry for scaring you like that…”

At that, Hannah snorted while she teared up.

“What are you apologizing for? For getting shot? Jesus, Charles, you didn’t ask for it, did you?” she joked through the tears and broken voice, making both laugh cynically. Hannah lifted her head and looked at him, and noticed how his eyes were watery. He sniffed as he tried to recompose himself, his hands never leaving the brunette.

“No, I know, but… I’m okay, you s—see? I just speak like I’m dumb or something now,” he joked. 

Suddenly, something took over Hannah and she hugged him, with her arms surrounding his shoulders completely. Chuck was taken aback at first, but he then wrapped his arms around her waist and stayed there for a moment, neither muttered a word, only sniffs and breathing could be heard. 

Hannah laughs, then smiles down at the picture of a younger Chuck. Some things change, and some things stay the same forever. Chuck is one of those things that never changes.

After a while, after a hug that helped both recompose and even sort of heal wounds that can’t be seen, they went back to rummage through old photos. 

“Oh, look at this one,” Chuck said, pulling a picture from his teenage years, where he was in just his underwear, surrounded by kids holding different pieces of clothing cheerfully “that was in the middle of summer, we were trying to fight the heat with water balloons and I got so soaked, my brother and my friends convinced me to take them off so they could dry. Me, being stupid and young, did so and they stole them and ran away.” 

Hannah laughed loudly, looking at Charles with apologetic eyes.

“How could you be so naive?” She asked, between laughs. 

“Hey, if I remember correctly, you got your clothes stolen once, in Haguenau! And you know it sucks, doesn’t it?” Chuck replied, jabbing his index on Hannah’s arm. 

Hannah had survived Bastogne, with the scarring of her life and one less ear. Everyone was changed, they had lost many men there, including Toye and Guarnere, Muck and Penkala, and lost Buck to shellshock. 

These days passed with nothing much to do but waiting for orders, some training, and finally, after the snow had passed, winter clothes. 

Second Platoon was stationed in a tall, two-story house, with many rooms, filled with beds and some tables. It was battered, most wallpapers looked torn, and the smell of humidity and gunpowder filling everyone’s nostrils.

On a cold morning, Hannah came back to the second floor, where Malarkey was introducing the new Lieutenant Jones to the men.

“Sir?” her voice, smaller than ever, turned everyone around. Some had to take a second look to be sure what they were looking at. 

“What happened to you?!” Don exclaimed, his jaw dropped. 

Hannah was shirtless. She was holding herself trying to keep the warmth of her body, with only a bra, pants and boots on. She looked red in the face, from the shame. Hannah could sense the eyes on her body, taking notice of every single scar she was sporting, and the bandage that was covering one on the side of her hip. 

“I was changing bandages, I turned for a second to get the sulfate and I heard someone running and laughing. I thought there were just some men playing around but they had taken my clothes, sir…” she explained. Everyone could hear the anger in her voice, her jaw clenching tight. 

“Jesus fuck,” Malarkey muttered, while Chuck proceeded to pull the sweater he used under his jacket and quickly helped Hannah put it on. “Lieb, MccLung, Jackson, go find the fuckers who did this, report to Speirs”. 

“I’m sorry, Malark, I—I didn’t want to make any trouble, really, I—,”

“No, don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault, okay? Here, it probably smells but it’s better than nothing, I’ll have someone find some clothes if they don’t find yours,” Malarkey said, giving her his scarf, and went back to speak with Lt. Jones, who only nodded to her as a salute. 

“Come on, we made some coffee,” said Chuck, pulling her to where the kettle was in a corner. “Are you okay?”.

“Yeah,” was all she said, hiding herself in her copper mug, drinking the awful coffee they have been given. Then Chuck did something that she wasn’t expecting, but calmed her nerves quite quickly: his palm met the top of her head, and ran down her hair slowly. 

Hannah had seen the men do that to each other, when they had panic attacks or after the death of a fellow soldier, they would hold their heads or run their fingers through their hair. It seemed like a paternal way to hold them close and not let them fall into the abyss of desperation war brings in people. 

And now she felt it herself. Chuck’s fingers brought peace into her body, into her mind. She closed her eyes he kept going, enjoying that as well as the steam from the coffee meeting her cold skin. 

///

Not too long after, and from a window, Hannah and Chuck saw MccLung and Lieb dragging two soldiers from their jackets to Speirs and Winters. Joe talked furiously, clearly explaining what the two men did. 

Hannah chuckled cynically, knowing Speirs would have them doing the worst jobs for the Platoon. 

Her happiness didn’t last long, though. After getting new clothes, returning Chuck’s sweater, she found out, alongside the rest, that they had a patrol to get to at one past midnight. 

Everyone dreaded it, mostly because Second Platoon had lost the most people since Bastogne, and they still wanted them to do a senseless mission. They were ordered to cross the river into German territory and take prisoners to get intel. 

They still had hours to kill before heading to enemy territory, so Hannah decided to find some place to nap, after fixing and cleaning her guns and getting more ammo. 

She wandered around Second Platoon’s house until she found a room on the second floor. She opened the door, walking inside, and instantly found a sleeping body on top of the bed. 

“What? What?!” it said startled and looked up. Hannah didn’t notice at first but as soon as some light shone through the bullet holes on the wooden panels in the window, she saw Grant’s face. 

“Oh, sorry Chuck, I was looking for some place to sleep, I’ll leave you to—,”

“No, no, it’s fine… we can share,” he said from the dark, she could hear his hand patting the bed. 

Hannah thought for a second. She was exhausted, her body was still cold and there probably wasn’t a better bed in the whole house to nap in. 

So, she closed the door behind her and left her jacket and rifle on the floor, and climbed under the wool blanket. 

Under it, she was met instantly with Chuck’s warmth, her side wasn’t cold, as she expected it to be. There was calm, so much calm it was a bit unsettling for Hannah; last time she felt it, mortars fell from the sky and took her friends with the blast. 

But there was something about the gentleness of Chuck’s breathing that helped her, which she couldn’t explain, but silently thanked him for it. 

A few minutes passed when Hannah turned to her side, facing Chuck, who was already positioned on his side. She was unable to fall fully asleep, which was normal when someone tries to relax during a war. 

Hannah just stayed there in silence, eyes closed, her hand dropped on the mattress near her face, when she felt Chuck’s hand a few inches from hers. 

For a moment, she wanted to grab it. 

Hannah had noticed for a while that she was closer with Chuck than with the rest of the men. It was an odd friendship; it’s not like they talked for hours and hours on end but mostly in silence or with hushed, short conversations. But when she was with him, she didn’t feel as much fear as with the rest or alone in a foxhole. 

But he had always been there for her, like she was for him. Through every loss, through every problem. There was an implicit deep trust between them that neither acknowledged with words, but with simple actions. 

And to her, he was certainly an attractive man; with dirty blonde hair, an inviting smile, always polite and shy. And Hannah knew she had felt sometimes a bit of a butterfly in her stomach when he smiled at her. 

Suddenly, her thoughts were hushed when she felt his fingers wrap around hers. 

Hannah didn’t open her eyes, afraid they would show how much speed her blood pressure gained in a split second. But she did reciprocate, after a moment, moving her hand so his fingers intertwined with hers. 

Neither moved, neither spoke nor opened their eyes. And finally, both fell asleep until Liebgott woke them up a couple of hours later.

He opened the door loudly, letting in some light. Both Hannah and Chuck sat up quickly, startled and disheveled, looking at Joe like he was crazy. 

Joe looked at both with a deep, playful smirk before saying, “We have the meeting at CP in ten minutes, let’s go, come on.”

Thankfully, Joe didn’t notice that Hannah and Chuck were still holding hands under the sheet; but when they caught it, as Lieb left, they quickly unwrapped them and rushed to get their things, without saying another word to each other.

///

Night came around nicely. 

Both Hannah and Chuck were enjoying their time. Hannah had clearly relaxed, mostly after they had talked about what happened to the NCO, feeling like she had let go of a heavy weight she carried on her shoulders. 

Charles offered for her to stay for dinner when the brunette said she still had to walk her dog, even though she knew Angelina had probably done that already. He insisted, saying the leftovers taste even better reheated on the grill. 

Hannah laughed and agreed to stay, as long as she could help with it. Her day has been better than expected, way better. But she still had that small pebble in her shoe about her feelings towards Chuck. A part of her yelled that she should come clean to him, and be done with it, no matter the result. The other part also yelled that his friendship was more valuable than risking it for something more.

But the tiny voice in her head still insisted with No, no! He doesn’t feel that way. He hasn’t flirted with you, or showed some clear sign of attraction, Hannah! Have dinner and pretend it’s all good. 

“Hey, can I ask you something? This might sound a bit weird,” Hannah said, with a sneaky smile while Chuck revamped the grill. The former NCO just nodded in response. “Why aren’t you married?” 

Chuck snorted, looking surprised and slightly offended. “Aren’t you the one that used to complain that women are always pressured to get married, and maybe they shouldn’t if they don't want to?” He asked, almost complaining. 

Hannah laughed and put her hands up in her defense.

“I don’t mean it like that, Charles Grant! I just… I’m surprised a man like you, who does all this, isn’t at least dating someone,” she clarified. 

“I didn’t say I wasn’t dating someone,” he replied, without looking at her.

There it is! So, that’s what it's like to get your heart punched, huh? 

“Oh, yeah, I mean—Of course, sorry–,” Hannah added, suddenly stumbling upon her words as she felt her hands shake slightly. 

Chuck snorted again, this time a hearty laugh escaping his lips. 

“I’m not Hannah, I’m not seeing anybody at the moment,” he added, smiling as he moved the charcoal around the grill. 

Hannah had a rush of anger suddenly, wanting to throw something at him and yell you fucking asshole, I’m in love with you, do not do that to me!!!

But she held herself in, looking rather unphased, and just nodded disapprovingly. 

“I, well… I haven’t met the right woman, you know? I’ve seen some people, yeah. Babe set me up once with this redhead who could’ve been Malarkey’s sister for all I knew and it was going good at first but… Fuck, I was so bored!” he said, showing the annoyance in his face at the memory. “She was nice and all, but she was just… so fucking boring. She talked about her hair and stuff she does with her lady friends and she hated when I told stories about the war.”

Now it was Hannah’s turn to laugh. “She hated it? Why?”. 

“Who the fuck knows, maybe it was too g—ory for her, or she didn’t want to hear that one of the men was being called ‘Gonorrhea’. Hell, she didn’t even want to hear how I got the scar in my head or rather, the explanation of my slurring when I speak and my lack of strength on my left side,” Chuck said and sounded rather offended. 

“Someone has to either appreciate your scar and the sequels, or get the fuck out of your way,” Hannah said, approaching him with a beer in hand. “Don’t ever feel ashamed for that, Chuck, I’m not ashamed of having one ear, honestly. I think it’s pretty nice. Who can say that is different when their bodies are complete and in perfect state?”. 

“It’s boring, isn’t it?” he added.

“You and me, Chuck, are different. And that’s good. Toye and Guarnere have one less leg each, they’re fucking awesome too.” 

Hannah’s heart leaped at the sight of Chuck looking suddenly proud of himself, and when he looked at her to clink their bottles, she could’ve sworn that, if she had the ovaries, she would’ve kissed him right there and then.

///

After dinner and a few more laughs, Hannah called it a night. 

Her heart felt slightly heavy for not having dared to confess what she was there to do in the first place. 

“Well, my dear Grant, I have to head home,” she said, as she put plates down the water in sink. 

“Already?” Chuck replied, looking surprised.

“It’s almost ten in the night!” she exclaimed, drying her hands on a towel that hung from the oven door handle. 

“Want me to call you a cab? Lieb is probably still around working with his.” 

“No, don’t worry, I’ll walk. It’s fine,” Hannah replied, and started walking towards the door with Chuck on tow. 

Both stood on the porch, looking around the calm neighborhood. Hannah was feeling so ashamed of herself, slapping herself mentally every second that passed. 

“Well, Hannah, this was a great surprise,” Chuck started, breaking her thoughts for a moment, “we should do this more often, maybe with the guys, sometime, before winter leaves us secluded in our homes.” 

“Of course, but let’s not wait two years this time,” she replied, with a smile creeping up her lips, looking at him. God, how can someone dare be this good looking?

Chuck proceeded to hug her like when he opened the door past noon, when she showed up at his doorstep. Hannah reciprocated, and drowned herself once again in his cologne, not wanting to let go or stop feeling his hands around her body.

“See ya, Davis,” Chuck said as she walked down the steps and she took one last look at him before heading home. 

You fucking wuss, you fucking wuss, you fucking wuss, you fucking, pathetic     w—

“Hannah! Wait!” 

Chuck’s voice startled her as she was reaching the crossroad, when she turned around to find him running towards her. 

Her heart raced, wondering why the hell was he yelling at her for. Maybe she had forgotten something. Yeah, that’s all, I might have forgotten my… keys? 

“Hannah, wait, I… I have to tell you something and this can’t wait…” Chuck started as soon as he caught up to her. “Listen, this might sound weird but… a while ago I—you appeared in a dream of mine. You were talking to me after I got shot and you were begging me to not forget you.”

“Hannah, I took it upon myself to find you but I was meeting only dead ends, the Army wouldn’t help me so I had to… fuck, I had to find Winters and ask him for your information. God, that was embarrassing, but you know Winters, he didn’t hesitate to help. I had your address and phone numbers for months, but I never had the guts to go knock on your door… I thought you might have forgotten me, but… I never forgot about you,”

“I never forgot how we shared a foxhole during our hardest time. I never forgot how we slept in that bed and held hands in the dark. I never forgot how you took care of me when I had that one panic attack in Bastogne, and everything else,”

“What I mean, Hannah, is… I love you. I can’t date other women because they’re not you, and all I want is you. So… please, don’t leave. Not now. I couldn’t believe my eyes when you showed up at my door, fuck, I thought I was dreaming or dead. You had found me and I—,”

Before Chuck could follow through with his speech, Hannah took him by the face and kissed him. 

It was bruising, it was desperate and filled with love. Chuck wrapped his arms around her body, bringing her impossibly close to his body as her fingers found his hair. 

The anticipation was their favorite feeling. They both sensed how long they waited for that to happen, so they sank deeper into it. 

It went on for a few minutes, the night time seemed to have stopped for both, like everything had disappeared except for them. 

After they parted, both panting, their foreheads connected, Hannah opened her eyes and found Chuck’s cheeks stained with tear trails and that explained the salty taste in his lips. That made her smile widely as she still held his hand between hers. 

“Can you—do you want to s–spend the night with me?” Chuck asked, opening his eyes finally. 

Hannah just smiled widely, pecking his lips as she pulled him by the wrist towards his house.

///

Making love to someone you have craved for years makes the hours longer.

Both Hannah and Chuck were sure of that while the latter moaned loudly as Hannah rode him; his hands were bruising against her hips as she moved, holding herself in his shoulders, kissing him every now and again. 

Hannah never thought she would see Chuck like this. With sweat rolling down his forehead, his lips swollen and his eyes squeezed shut; to see his naked torso and his chest heaving up and down, which was covered in different scars that only made him even better looking in her opinion.

The man was almost ethereal in the dim light of his bedroom.

She enjoyed every bit of him as much as she could, like that could’ve been a fleeting figment of her imagination that she had to hold tight between her fingers before it could slip away. 

But reality brought her back when she felt the pain of his fingers digging into her hips. Hannah didn’t mind one bit.

She just loved to see how overwhelmed with pleasure he was, how he propped himself into his elbows, wrapping a hand around her bottom to carry both into the bed frame so he could sit and find her lips with his as he rode into his climax. 

Of course, Chuck being the gentleman he was, caring, he helped Hannah ride into hers, enjoying how she cried out his name loudly like it was the best song he had ever heard. 

///

Chuck’s fingers ran down Hannah’s bare shoulders, enjoying the dampness. It was soft, it was warm and it also a tad bit freckled. His fingertips followed down her arm until they met her face, that laid upon the back of her hands as she laid in her stomach. 

 Her eyes were closed but she was still awake. Hannah was just soaking on everything that happened through the day, and now, through the night, as the clock ticked into two in the morning. 

Chuck sat parallel to her, and his fingertips went all the way back to walk down her shoulder blades, into the deep line of her spine, meeting a few moles spread out here and there, which sent very slight tickles to the brunette. 

“I kind of can’t believe this just happened” he muttered, turning to lay his head on the small of her back. He could feel the vibration of the small laugh she let go at his comment.

“Me neither, Chuck… but I, uh… I have a confession, which I think will make you laugh,” Hannah replied.

“Do go on…” he replied.

“You told me you looked for my information with Winters, right?” Hannah asked.

“Right”.

“Well, when I looked for you too… I did the same,” she said and felt his head suddenly turn to her at her words, “and when I said your name, he gave me a weird look, but now I know it was a ‘I know something important about this that you don’t know’ look”. 

“So, wait, we l—ooked for each other in the past few months, and we did exactly the same shit?” he said, struggling slightly. 

Hannah heard the clicker of the lighter and looked back at him, lightning a cigarette with a shit eating grin sprawled upon his lips. 

“Exactly what I’m saying,” she replied, laying her head back down. 

“Another reason why I would like to marry you, then,” he added, like it was nothing.

What he didn’t notice was the speed in which Hannah’s eyes widened and her heart started thumping inside her rib cage. 

“I’m sorry?!” she asked, sounding a tad bit anxious. Chuck was never one to say rushed things like that. 

“The first reason is how powerful and relentless you were and still clearly are. You know how I know that?” he asked, and she could feel his smile still in his lips.

“No, how?”

“When you confronted Sobel before we went to Holland. Of course, I didn’t know at the moment the amount of feelings I had for you, but… I think I did have some of them roaming inside me,” Chuck said, like he was the one who stood up to Herbert Sobel, “but that was just plain hot,” he finalized, and turned to look at her; Hannah was just looking at him like he was crazy. 

The night before, everyone was cheering for their job. They were done, they were bound to the States and all the Easy Company wanted to do was drink and laugh. 

For everyone’s demise, Lipton announced how they were heading back into war, to Holland, killing the mood instantly. 

As the replacements were getting helped and guided by Bull, rather than Cobb, who could only brag about stuff he never ever did; Chuck was packing her stuff near Malarkey, Bill and Hannah. 

“I swear I thought by this time I was gonna be home, with a hundred in my pocket, flowers for my mama and nearing Christmas with my nieces and nephews” Malarkey said, fixing his bayonet. The rest scoffed, still bitter by the news.

“I miss the coffee from hometown, there’s this beautiful place in Hamstown Square, it’s very small and cozy, and the pastries are the most delicious I’ve ever had” Hannah said, looking like she was talking about the love of her life. 

“Guys, look!” Bull said, interrupting them, pointing to their right.

On a jeep, carrying some stuff behind it, sat Herbert Sobel, their former CO, the nightmare that trained them back in Toccoa. Hannah knew she didn’t train with him as much as the rest, but a year with that man was more than enough. 

“Fuck, no…” Hannah whispered so just the boys around her heard her “No, not him”.

“Don’t—Pretend he’s not here,” Malarkey said to her, tying the loose ends of her parachute to her shoulders as Skip came to them scowling like the rest. “Y’all too, do not look at him”. 

Neither obliged, all of them stared at the man passing by. 

“The hell is he doing here?” Skip wondered, without getting an answer.

Sobel walked in a straight line near the men as the truck behind his jeep unloaded, looking between the men with his usual air of superiority untouched. 

Unlucky for Hannah, he had met her eyes not too long after, and the man approached her, before the rest could make themselves scarce. 

“Still alive, uh… Davis?” Sobel asked, scowling at the brunette.

“Pretty much, sir. Still teaching at that school… somewhere?” she answered, provoking a few small gasps around her. Sobel scowl just deepened.

“Do not disrespect me with that tone, private” the taller man threatened, his jaw clenching tight. 

“Earn the respect, like you once taught us, and I won’t,” Hannah replied, her tone dripping with bitterness and irony. She felt a hand in her shoulder and knew one of the men was probably trying to calm her down. “You came here and act surprised that I’m still alive? No, I deserve more than that, sir”. 

“You shut your mouth right now, private! This—this is the reason why women shouldn’t be allowed in the army; they’re too emotional!” Sobel exclaimed, almost yelling to get attention, which only made Hannah even more furious.

“If you were in our command, if you were our leader, we would all be dead right now. Don’t you remember that drill we did back in England? Why do you think you were ‘promoted’? And no, I’m not scared of you, go write me up if you want to; Winters is south of the camp, third tent on the right. Colonel Sink is in the next tent to his, the fourth one,” Hannah felt like she couldn’t stop, her anger overcoming her; mountains of words and feelings that were accumulating, finally leaving her chest. 

Chuck couldn’t believe the words that came out of her. 

Everyone awaited without breathing for an answer, a yell from Sobel, something. But nothing came, he just scowled, breathed hard, and before anyone took a breath again, he turned around tight in his heel and left to the back of the truck. 

Hannah took a breath and turned around to finish prepping, when she found many of her fellow paratroopers smiling at her, some nodding in approval even. Johnny Martin crossed by her side, squeezing her arm, as he whispered a small “good one” for her. 

“I fucking hate him, that felt really good”, she said to Chuck, turning to adjust his jumpsuit. 

Chuck just stared at her, feeling hard to believe what just went through. Their former NCO was just bashed in front of everyone, and no one, not even one paratrooper came in his defense. 

His eyes roamed through her face as she fixed his suit and talked about something he wasn’t paying attention to. Suddenly, he was looking at her in a different way, one that would grow over time during the war.

///

The night caught up to Chuck and Hannah, both deep asleep on his bed. The brunette laid her head in his shoulder, on her side, while he was laid in his back, with his cheek against her forehead. 

Though around dawn, Chuck’s body started to shook. It came softly at first, just a few twitches, until it became a whole storm inside him. 

Hannah stirred up and saw how every muscle in his arms and chest were clenched, and he muttering something she couldn’t comprehend. Clearly, he was having a nightmares. The nightmares that seemed to never end, which felt like a punishment that everyone had to endure post war. 

The brunette placed her hands around his head as she whispered, “Chuck, Chuck, it’s okay, it’s just a dream, wake up, love, wake up.” 

His eyes shot open, looking terrified as he gasped for air, his hands fumbling to find her. 

“Hannah, Hannah!” He exclaimed, as he finally met her eyes. His body was shaking until he realized she was there, looking down at him, with a tired, disheveled smile. 

“It’s okay, love, I’m here, I’m here,” she replied, running her fingers through his hair, kissing his cheek before looking down at him again. 

The first light of the sun shining through the white curtains, illuminating both with such warmth it made Hannah’s heart swell. 

“I’m sorry, I’m s—sorry, Hannah, this still happens…” he explains, his hand tight on her side. 

But Hannah just smiles sweetly at him, “it still happens to me too, Chuck, it’s okay, there’s nothing to be sorry about,” she explains, admiring his deep blue eyes. 

“Can you… can you sing to me?” He asked, sounding almost embarrassed to ask for it. 

The touch of your lips upon my face

Your lips that are cool and sweet

Such tenderness lies in their soft caress

My heart forgets to beat

The touch of your hands upon my head

The love in your eyes, ashine

And now at last, the moment divine

The touch of your lips, the love in your eyes

The touch of your lips on mine

Chuck closed his eyes as her singing filled his ears. He haven’t felt peace like at that moment, not since the war. Hugging his mother, playing cards with his brothers or the men from the Company brought joy, but peace; peace came from Hannah, wearing his shirt, at dawn, singing to him. 

And it was the same for Hannah. 

Both knew the nightmares will continue to haunt them, and that their lives will go on, but at least, they were going to go through it together. 

And that was more than enough for them. ///

[capricornus-rex]

Hiya! Still taking any requests? If so, can you write something about Cal and JediReader finally settle down and have a kid or something. I literally binged your materialist in one night until I realized the sun was coming out. I love your writing so much btw! It’s BEAUTIFUL!!!! 💕 (I’m saving your inquisitorCal fic until I finish my classes for this semester. I can’t wait for the pure heartbreak😖)

Hi Anon! Sorry you’ve waited so long ;;A;; I had to finish the prompts that came before yours. Anyway, your prompt has helped me fix up the fic idea I had in the middle of writing another fic so thank you for that! And also thanks for liking what I post! ^w^ Hope you enjoy this fic! 💕

“A Legacy Begun” | Chapter 1: What Comes Next | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: After a long time of running and fighting, you and Cal decided to finally settle down to raise a family. However, it was never a life of peace whilst the shadow of the Empire looms over your heads.

Additional prompt: My fic idea

Tags: Scruffy! Cal Kestis, Daddy! Cal Kestis, Adult! Cal Kestis, Jedi Family, Jedi Offspring, Settling Down, Rebel Alliance

Also posted in AO3

Next: Part 2 | Masterlist

1 of ?

“Where to now?” the young man asked to everyone.

The crew exchanged glances. Cere stepped in.

“It’s up to you to decide, Cal,”

“I think we should just take a breather,”

Cal charted a course back to Bogano. All this action has taken a great toll on everyone. During the jump to hyperspace, the crew dispersed—back to their own activities—while you plopped down on the couch, Cal sat next to you, barely allowing an inch of space between you, and your little adopted Bogling peeks under the lounge’s center table. It chittered but you quickly put a finger against your lips, hoping that the animal would understand your gesture. You and Cal shared a secretive chuckle, glancing at the cockpit to see if Greez had heard.

“I don’t think he heard,” Cal whispered.

“Good,”

You link arms with Cal and rested your head against his shoulder, he planted a kiss on your forehead as he nestled himself by your side. Your free hand extended to the Holocron—now reduced to shards—and a single crystalline nugget gravitated to your fingers; raising it up so it aligns with the overhead light, the prism glowed yellow as you turned it in different angles, the specks of impurity within the crystal appeared like glitters.

While you gaze at the remains of the relic, mesmerized, Cal started to shift in his seat. He rested his head on your lap and buried his face against your abdomen. You chuckle at his gesture, but you were totally endeared, your eyes wandered to the cauterized part of his jumpsuit’s armor while running his fingers through his hair.

“How’s your rib?” you purred.

“The sting’s still there, but bearable,”

“I think I have something for that back in the abode,”

“I leave it to you, doc,” he cooed.

His hand reached for your cheek, ever so lovingly he caressed the curve of your skin while his eyes trace every inch of your face; you spot the involuntary upward curls of his lips as you nuzzled your nose against his palm, your tired Jedi drifted off to sleep in the middle of the journey.

An hour later, Cal awakes by the rumble of the Mantis landing on Bogano’s soil.

“We’re here,” you announce softly.

“Five more minutes,” he groaned, tossing to his right so he can wrap his arms around you and buried his face into your abdomen again.

“Honey, we’re home,” you tussled his hair, trying to get him up. “You can take a nap when we get to the abode.”

Cal was childishly uncooperative, continuously coaxing him to get up because your legs are starting to go numb from his weight.

“Alright, alright, I’m up!” he exerted, sitting up from his comfortable headrest that is your lap and finding the strength to plant the balls of his feet back on the floor.

It was midday when you arrived in Bogano, the shorter way back to the abode was hopping from one mesa to the other where the roofs of the huts dotted the land. Upon entering, you’ve already reached the second floor of the abode and turned to the archway tunnel that connects the abode itself to the second level of the bedroom.

The living quarters was dim but BD-1 scampered off of Cal’s shoulder to switch on the power. White lights glowed to life and illuminated the entire bedroom, the redhead staggered to the bed, plopped himself and proceeded to lie flat on his back against the mattress. His hands lazily searched for the straps of his armor, unfastening the buckles, undoing the buttons of the shirt underneath the leather chestplate, and finally unzipping the top of his jacket.

When all of his upper clothing was shed, Cal felt liberated. A sight of relief escaped his lungs while you gathered a Bacta gauze and tape. You brushed aside the left flap of his jacket, revealing the stab wound—blood had dried and curdled into a maroon crust around the flesh and the body water had pooled on top of the damaged skin.

“Just a few more inches up and he’d pierced your heart,”

He takes your hand and places it above his heart.

“Still here, but I could’ve sworn you’ve taken it already,”

You rolled your eyes, scoffed laughingly, “Smooth.”

A crisp, pastel green square covered the circular wound, secured with medical tape. You briskly caressed Cal’s jaw and kissed his forehead.

“Go get some rest,” you cooed. “You’ve earned it, my love.”

He nodded obediently, continuing his nap from the Mantis as his eyelids drooped and his features softened. You watched him drift off again.

Evening fell upon Bogano. Cal had the longest yet nicest slumber he’s ever had in years. He wakes up and finds you absent in the bedchamber, he stepped out of the abode, climbing back up to the mesa’s surface. He spotted you lying down on the grass, wobbling your leg leisurely as you stared at the deep blue blanket of sky.

Cal joined you on the cool bed of grass, putting a flower he had plucked before lying flat on his back next to you.

“Something on your mind?” Cal began.

“Not really. I just missed the night sky here, it’s all so peaceful,” you sighed. “Just a few weeks ago, we were hopping between planets—so much has happened in every one we’ve been to—and all of that to save the next generation of Jedi. It’s kinda poetic.”

Cal had no response to that, although he almost had the exact same thing in mind. Another thing entered his head, though he wasn’t ready to say it yet. He decided it was a talk for another time, allowing himself to enjoy the present with you.

“What do you think happens now, Cal?” you curiously inquired.

“I don’t know, honestly,”

The pair of young Jedi exchanged glances, trading short, awkward smiles, both speaking an expression that painted an uncertainty of what the future holds for them. Fingers interlocked with one another as their eyes glanced at the sky, as if hoping the stars had the answer for them.

—–

A year and a half has passed since Cal Kestis destroyed Eno Cordova’s holocron.

The Mantis crew eventually found another refuge: the remote planet of Cerinda, located in the Mid Rim where the hand of the Empire almost stretches thin. The rich countryside of the planet attracted everyone—including Greez to some extent, given that he was after the seeds and sources of food that can help step up his culinary game.

You and Cal have made a hobby of strolling across the spaciousness of the land every now and then to get some fresh air. Like today, the two of you sat in the sea of grass—the meadows filled your eyes with the brightest green, sweet and cool water sourced from the waterfalls and rivers irrigated the soil, and the weather was simply divine.

“Your stubble’s growing out” you pointed.

Cal massaged his jaw, the hairs pricked his fingertips as he ran them across his face.

“Should I get rid of it?”

You shake your head, you couldn’t repress the grin forming in your lips, “No, I’d rather you keep it.”

In the corner of your eye, the waterfall’s mist became a prism against the sunlight, spreading the rays of light to where you and Cal sat. The two of you approached the basin, your fingers glided across the water, forming ripples that expanded and then panned towards the waterfall itself. You and Cal waded on its shore, stepping closer until the water has reached the middle of your boots.

You started a water war when you playfully splashed Cal, nearly wetting his hair, he retaliated when he used both hands to scoop water and throw it to you.

“You’ll never get me!” you laughed, running away from the pond before Cal could have a chance to pour a handful of water on your head.

“Not if I can help it!” he cheered back, chasing you with the water running out drop by drop.

When he got close enough, water rained over you—wetting your clothes especially on your back and shoulders—and he gleefully snatched you up; wrapping his arms around your waist, lifting you inches above the ground, and you spinning you around as both of you filled the air with laughter.

He lost balance when he has spun enough times to stumble back on the ground. You’re still laughing out whatever’s left of you as the grass tickled your skin. Cal crawled and stood on fours over you, he cupped your jaw and closed in to kiss you—it was tender and luscious, when he pulled away, you found his sweet smile greeting you back.

The fresh breeze has picked up, the two of you continued to lounge in the fragrant grass whose length reached your breasts when sitting up; every once in a while, Cal would find himself staring at you and thinking about the question that popped into his mind a year ago in Bogano. Back then, he didn’t think that that exact moment was the best time to say it; now at the present, he still wasn’t so sure, but he figured that it’d be best to test the waters—now that things seemed to have toned down.

You turned to see Cal looking at you, but his eyes appeared to be in deep thought.

“What is it, Cal?”

Your soft-toned question somehow jolted him back into reality, realizing too late that he has zoned out too much just thinking about the entire topic. He began stammering, trying to string together the right words that he has been mentally practicing a few times now.

“Listen, I’ve meaning to ask you something—ever since Bogano, actually, but I just didn’t think it was the right time for it, and I really didn’t think that I would find myself asking it,”

The tinge of seriousness in his tone suddenly made your stomach sink, but you waited for him to finish. He knelt on one knee, level to your sitting height, and you could’ve sworn you felt your heart skip a beat and a shiver run down your spine under a sunny afternoon.

“[y/n] [l/n], will you give me the biggest honor to marry me?”

At the very moment, your heart gave out what ought to be the biggest beat in your entire lifetime. Little did you know that at the top of the hill, Cere was standing there, surveying the land in search of the pair of you—she had secretly witnessed Cal proposing to you and you giving him the best answer you could have ever given him. The woman smiled to herself, somewhat getting secondhand joy from what she had witnessed.

“Yes,” you gasped. Overjoyed, you repeated your answer in a medley of crying and laughing. “YES, CAL KESTIS, YES!!”

Cal huffed out the tension that he has been choking himself with, he was unable to control the upward curls that were growing along his lips. He threw himself towards you, pulling you in abruptly, thanking you in the form of kisses and bursting in laughter.

“Really?”

“Yes, to the ends of the galaxy, yes!”

The joy in his heart was so great that he’s simply acting out of impulse. He snatched you up once more, his hold tighter than the last, and buried his face on the crook of your neck as he slightly spun you again. You latched onto him so tight that for a moment, time seemed to have stopped ticking, and the next moment felt like cloud nine.

The two of you returned to the ship, hand in hand, the first one to greet you was Cere. A smirk on her face suggested that she may or may not know what had just transpired.

“Well, you two seem awfully happy,”

“Come inside with us, we want everyone to know,” Cal beckoned.

Cere chuckled but only within her earshot, she followed the two of you into the ship.

Out of excitement, BD-1 scampered off of Cal’s shoulder to the center of the table in the lounge and started chirping a string of notes at everyone.

“Don’t spoil the surprise, BD!” Cal cooed.

“What did BD say?” Merrin asked, on behalf of everybody in the ship.

There was brief pause, Cal turned to you, wordlessly giving you the honors to bear the news. You took a deep breath.

“I’m engaged!” you declared.

The ship was filled with gasps and hushed exclamations. Merrin’s jaw dropped, she put away the extra plants that she had harvested from the terrarium, rushing to both of you in a hug. Cere laughed in a celebratory joy and Greez swooned, witnessing him being genuinely affectionate and supportive—which he rarely does.

“So, when’s the wedding?” Greez beamed.

“In three days, we’d like to keep it simple,” Cal replied.

The Nightsister braced you on the shoulders, “We definitely have to find you a dress!”

[cinnamonrollstark]

Whumptober Day 1: Shaky Hands

Brief ouch ouch warning. Hurt my soul to write this but he he we love making ourselves wanna die, don’t we? Alrighty. You’ve been warned. Yee yee. Let’s get started now, shall we? Also CW/TW for suicide.

---

A descent upon piano keys, Tony’s fingers drum against ivory planks. The tune is “Goodbye Until Tomorrow/I Could Never Rescue You” from The Last Five Years. It’s melancholic, plaintive in the hollow dark of the hall. A steady intake of breath, and then he hums, warm air vibrating against his lips. The fingers glide, and he pretends to be okay.

It’s been two weeks, now. It’s so odd, to find that distance, to toe the line between Peter living, and Peter gone. Of course, Tony would prefer to find himself before that line rather than after it. There is comfort within the confines of his imagination, and in its tracks, delusion. But it only leaves him so much room: the more welcoming the lie, the more obvious the truth. 

I stand on the precipice,

I struggle to keep my balance,

I open myself

I open myself one stitch at a time

There are memories. Memories of pain and also laughter, the good and the bad so inexplicably mixed and undefined. They mix and tremble and threaten to fall away. In grieving, the memories all become sources of pain in spite of the love and joy they may have once created. A reminder, really, of what has been lost. Far more lost than what was gained; Tony was often reminded in his times of bereavement that everything happened for a reason, but he knew enough to see through that. What reason could there be for this? What possible greater cause would erase such a young and vibrant life from the universe?

Tony wants to believe he is numb to it now. He should be used to this, in all he has experienced. Mother, father, friend, and-

What can he call Peter? What must he remember him as? It feels terribly intrusive, to claim him as a son or anything more than a mentee, one-sided, in Peter’s absence. Yet, this is the association in feeling, the same emotion produced when Morgan skins her knee or hits her head, multiplied with mourning. The pain it elicits can best be described as an empty space, a lead balloon settling within his ribcage like a foreign organ, a third lung whose purpose is solely to steal all the air from his body, leaving him breathless. He should’ve expected this. Nothing great ever truly lasts forever.

Goodbye, until tomorrow,

Goodbye till I recall how to breathe,

And I have been waiting,

I have been waiting for you.

He’d found Peter on the floor of the bedroom closet. The hanglight, a bulb with no cover, sent a soft glow across the boy’s paling cheeks. Most days, Peter seemed so small, a miniature hero to protect, to cover, to save. That morning, he took up the whole length of the closet, made grown by a struggle undisclosed. Tony squeezed the boy’s hand, felt for a pulse on the wrist, then shortly after on the neck. Peter’s skin was already cooling, and there was no denying his death; it was then that Tony noticed the eyes, still half open, hazel brown reflecting slivers of light overhead. Although he wasn’t sure why, Tony shut the lids before beginning compressions.

Palm to ribs, elbows straight, chest rising and falling with forced air in between the jolted movements; this went on for half an hour. Desperation gave way to grief, to denial. Then, a spark of hope: a pulse is found. Tony rejoices. 

Finally yes,

Finally now,

Finally something takes me away,

Finally Free!

Finally he can cut through these strings,

And open my wings.

Tucked in that bed, like a child, a tube protruding from his throat, breath, still not his own, pushed in through the tube and out again. Tony stroked Peter’s hand, rubbing circles in the soft skin. He was warm now, warm again. A heartbeat, precious, melodic, announcing itself every two seconds or so. Denial, personified, a figure carved so perfectly to look like the boy, his boy, that if Tony did not inspect him so closely, he would not have recognized the absence of something greater, whatever made Peter, Peter.

“I know this isn’t something you’d like to think about right now, but it’s important that we take advantage of the time we have. Is Peter an organ donor?”

The nurse was blurry to him, then, and in that, she drifted, lost at sea. Waves, crashing down around them with each pointed lie of Peter’s heart. 

Tony nodded. In truth, he didn’t quite remember, but he knew what Peter would want.

“Okay,” continued the nurse, joining him under the surface of the water as it rose. “It is vital that we get started with the process as soon as possible. I’m so incredibly sorry for your loss. Is there anyone we can call to be with you, after we take him?”

He’s already been taken, thought Tony. He shook his head.

“No,” he said, the word, too large to fit past his throat. “I’m all he has left.”

I could never rescue you

The nurses and doctors and staff formed lines against the walls as they walked to surgery. They called it the walk of honor. Tony did his best not to make eye contact with them; not that he could’ve seen them if he tried, tears streaming down his face and into his beard. He swallowed the ugly sobs that threatened to spill, feeling observed but overwhelmingly thankful for the many that are gathered to honor Peter’s post-mortem sacrifice. His lungs would be given to a thirteen year old, his liver to a thirty year old. Then, the heart- god, Peter’s heart- would be given to a young child, a ten year old girl. Peter’s heart would save her life. All this, he tried to remind himself as they neared the end of the hall. The doctors wheeling him stopped before the double doors and gave him space to say goodbye. 

All you ever wanted

Tony kissed Peter’s cheek and sighed into his skin. It was then that he gave way to the storm, the ocean boiling within him, and sobbed as he held him tight. “I love you Peter,” he choked out, “so, so much.” The boy’s chest rose and fell with make-pretend life, and Tony breathed in tandem. It was several minutes before he pulled away, wiping his own tears from Peter’s cheeks. “We’ll be okay, Pete. You can rest now.” 

He let go, then, and watched as they wheeled the child away.

But I could never rescue you

No matter how hard I tried

When Peter was finally gone behind those doors, Tony collapsed in on himself, for a moment, so terribly alone on that hospital floor. Then, one by one, the hands of strangers, kind strangers- those that stood for the walk of honor, pressed against his back, his head; embraces from a dozen men and women.

All I could do was love you hard,

And let you go 

Peter had killed himself. It felt pointless, really, and Tony was fairly sure that would never change. Fingertips to warm piano keys. He takes a deep breath in, and lets it out. There was so much he would’ve done, if he’d known in time. How he would’ve listened to the boy, held him when he needed it. It didn’t matter that he’d been there, that he’d loved him. That he’d been there. He hadn’t been enough, he was sure.

Light floods the kitchen across the hall, and the piano music stops. 

“That you, Morguna?”

He swallows the dry emotion as Morgan’s small frame sends shadows across the archway.

“It’s pretty daddy.”

Tony smiles, sadly. His eyes are still wet, red. He prays she wont notice.

“You’re sweet, Morgs. You wanna play?”

She grins and nods excitedly.

He would’ve tried even harder had he known. Tony already loved him endlessly as his own. Yet, there was no changing the past, only the future. As Morgan makes her run towards him, a shadow of what could’ve been and now, could be, traces behind her like a lagging video. He takes a breath as she leaps onto the piano bench next to him, and wraps his arms around her. Although he cannot save Peter, now, he can preserve his memory, and nurture the trust of understanding with Morgan, a freedom to talk and confide in all that hurts her and weighs on her mind. 

Morgan props herself up against him, and he offers up the backs of his hands. She sets her tiny palms against her father’s,  and he begins to pick up the final notes one more time.

“Daddy,” she whispers, giggling. “Your hands are all wobbly.”

He smiles, softly.

“Sorry, sweetie.”

His hands shake as he realizes the weight of the future he holds. He plays through the uneasiness, and closes his eyes, Peter’s smile at the back of his mind.

No matter how hard I tried,

All I could do was love you,

God, I loved you so.

[ohmytheon]

It’s (Not) a Date (1/2)

summary: What better way to get petty revenge on his father than blow his money at an insanely expensive restaurant? It's a good idea in Todoroki's opinion and the person that will enjoy the experience the most is Uraraka, so of course it makes perfect sense to ask her if she wants to go out for dinner with him. What could go wrong?

notes: This was 80% inspired by this tumblr post, which made me laugh for five minutes, and 20% inspired by wellthengetouttathesoupaisle's Chaotic Rich Kid Todoroki fic, "two hundred and fifty-three black sandelwood bathbombs". I wasn't supposed to write Todochako, but when Sven from the Kacchako Discord asked for Todochako fluff, my lizard brain refused to focus on anything else. Uh, this was supposed to be like 3k. Now it's two chapters and I might be done with it.

It took Todoroki an embarrassing amount of time for the actual idea to form. Instead of hitting him all at once like lightning, it came to him in pieces, a part of the puzzle here and another there until it formed a picture. Once the idea was in his mind, he couldn’t let it go. There was something so perfect about it that it almost made him smile just thinking about it (which probably should’ve been when he knew that this was different). With the idea created, he realized what he had to do.

No, he knew what he wanted to do. He had spent his whole life living by what he had to do that he sometimes forgot that he could do things simply because he wanted to do them. There didn’t have to be some grand reason or life or death situation. If he wanted ice cream, he could get it. He didn’t have to wait to reward himself because he accomplished something in class, won a mock-battle, or defeated a villain. He could just do things.

Even if those things were extremely petty.

He didn’t say they had to always be good things or nice ideas.

The first piece of inspiration had actually come from Bakugou, who had been telling his friends a story about how he’d stuffed cotton balls in his ears so that his mom’s yelling was muffled. Then, after laughing, Ashido had added that she sometimes wore her headphones when she was on the train even when her iPod was dead so that guys wouldn’t talk to her. They were such small things that Todoroki couldn’t help but take note of upon overhearing them in the common area. Apparently, Bakugou’s mom had been so pissed upon finding the cotton balls that she had quit yelling and left the room, just as he’d wanted.

The second piece of the puzzle came from Momo. Blushing, she had told people that she’d upset her mother over the weekend by wearing purple to some fundraiser her parents’ were throwing instead of the assigned red and gold theme that were her family’s colors. It was such a dumb, little thing, but it had apparently infuriated her mom, who didn’t always agree with Momo’s decision to become a hero. She was very close with her parents, but they didn’t always get why she was so willing to put herself in danger all the time. They didn’t know her like their classmates did.

Still, the fact that Momo had done something so small to get back at her mom was...eye-opening. Whenever Todoroki had tried to get back at his father, it had usually been something on a much grander scale, such as refusing the fire half of his quirk for years or trying to become a hero with only the half of his quirk that he’d inherited from his mother. He had always been a “go big or go home” type of person. Maybe it came with the nature of his powerful quirk.

After coming to U.A., he had figured out that sometimes much more subtle jabs were more efficient, like the time he’d slurped his food during whenever his father had tried to talk. The shock and frustration on his face had been utterly priceless, but because Todoroki hadn’t done anything really, he couldn’t say much without looking like a total idiot.

The third and last piece seemed so random compared to the rest and it had taken him a day or two to piece them all together. On the rare occasion that they had a break, Todoroki had gone out with a group of his classmates (his friends) to blow off some steam at the mall. By the time they left to get something to eat before going back to the dorms, everyone had bought something - except for Uraraka. Her thriftiness was by now known to everyone. Even if she was saving money by no longer having to pay rent, she kept a very tight budget, a habit she couldn’t break.

When they stopped to eat at a restaurant, she’d hesitated and then ordered the cheapest meal. No one else had noticed it, but he certainly did, especially when he ordered what might’ve been the most expensive meal. He hadn’t done it intentionally - it was simply the best-sounding one on the menu - but he couldn’t miss the way she had stared almost dreamily at his food when everything arrived. When he had asked if she’d wanted a bite, she had blushed furiously and insisted that she was fine. She avoided him the rest of the night, embarrassed at having been caught. Being considered poor didn’t bother her, but she didn’t like to bother her friends with it.

A week later, with the plan in mind, Todoroki sat at the couches in the common area with his friends. They were supposed to be doing a study session for Present Mic’s exam, but to be honest, he wasn’t paying attention. Iida and Deku were the most involved, trying to help Ashido and Sero, both of whom were lamenting about the class. Their scores had begun to improve once they’d started doing these sessions, but the cost was high apparently. Todoroki had studied English as a kid with his mother, the only reason why it didn’t seem so difficult to him.

Uraraka sat on a large cozy chair with her textbook and notes in her lap, chewing on the end of a pen as she read through them. If she wasn’t careful, it was going to explode in her mouth like last time and get ink everywhere. She’d looked like she got into a fight with a giant squid and potentially lost. Not that she lost many fights these days. Now near the end of their second year, her technique with her quirk had grown into one of the strongest in the class. Just the other day, she had helped them win a mock-battle in their hero course. He wasn’t sure they would have won without her.

Once the session ended, everyone got up and started to head off to spend the little free time they had left before bed. Uraraka didn’t seem to notice everyone leaving, too absorbed in her notes, until Iida put a hand on her shoulder. Startled out of her reverie, she smacked him in the chest and he floated quickly to the ceiling. “Oh, I’m sorry!” She pressed her fingers together. “Release!” When Iida crashed onto the couch unceremoniously, she cringed and pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oops, should’ve given you a warning.”

“It’s quite alright,” Iida reassured her, adjusting his glasses as he pushed himself up. “I just wanted to make sure that you don’t stay up too late. Pulling all-nighters to study has been proven to be detrimental to scores.”

Uraraka smiled. “Okay, Dad, thanks. I won’t.”

Instead of getting upset over the teasing comment, Iida nodded his head and then walked away, his job done. That left only Todoroki, Uraraka, and Deku at the couches. While Uraraka went back to looking over her stuff, Deku was slowly gathering his things together, lost in thought about something. Todoroki glanced at him. Normally he didn’t mind if the other boy was around, but for some reason, the persistent feeling that he wanted Deku to be gone kept creeping on him.

He didn’t know why. It wasn’t like this was a big deal or anything.

After placing his mostly ignored notes in his backpack, Todoroki slung it over his shoulder and walked over to her. Scratching her head and sticking her tongue out as she wrote down a sentence, she didn’t look up. It wasn’t until he said, “Uraraka,” did she pause and glance up at him.

“Hey!” The smile from earlier reappeared on her face, the only difference was that it was less teasing. “You were quiet all night. Well, you’re pretty quiet normally, but not that quiet. You good?”

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” Todoroki gazed down at her. Now that he was here, he was having trouble actually saying what was on his mind. It didn’t help that Midoriya was still around, but it wasn’t like he could ask him to leave. Besides, it shouldn’t have been an issue. They were friends. He’d hung out plenty of times with just Momo or Midoriya and he and Uraraka had become better friends over the past year. So he might as well just say it. “Do you want to get dinner with me tomorrow?”

Uraraka turned bright red. “Eh?”

There, the question was out. He felt a lot better, even with her looking at him like he’d grown an extra head. She had a habit of looking down on herself and he knew that he tended to be distant, so maybe she’d thought that they weren’t actually that great of friends. They were. He simply had a difficult time showing it. He was trying to get better about it though.

“Do you want to get dinner with me tomorrow?” Todoroki repeated. Behind him, he heard Midoriya cough. It could’ve been for any reason. Maybe he was catching a cold. Whatever the case, Todoroki didn’t mind him as he stayed focused on Uraraka. “I’m kind of mad at my dad right now and figured I could spend some of his money”

“So you...want me to have dinner with you...to get back at Endeavor?” Uraraka asked slowly.

Todoroki shrugged his shoulders. “Essentially, yes, but the place I was thinking of has a dessert special that you’ve mentioned really liking.”

Uraraka’s eyes practically sparkled at the mention of dessert. She had an insatiable sweet tooth, somehow worse than Natsuo’s, one that she bemoaned on a frequent basis whenever she was trying to eat healthily. Maybe it was a low blow, mentioning the dessert since he knew how much she loved sweets, but then he had thought of her when he’d looked up the menu. He hadn’t been there in years, not since he’d been forced to attend business dinners with his father, but the food had always been exceptional and he didn’t think she’d ever been.

“You don’t have to go if you’re busy or uncomfortable,” Todoroki added for good measure.

“No, no! I’ll go!” Uraraka rushed to say, waving her hands in the air. “Um…” She put a finger under her chin. “What time?”

“How does seven sound?”

“That’s fine. It gives me time to get ready after my gymnastics training with Aizawa. Ugh.” Everyone was trying to build up their strengths in unique ways. If it seemed unusual, it probably helped in some unpredictable way. “Is there like a dress code or something? We’re just gonna get some food, right?”

“Yeah, wear whatever you feel comfortable in.” That was what he was going to do at least. He liked to think that he had a better style than, say, Midoriya, but he wasn’t overly concerned with fashion either. Besides, it wasn’t like he expected her to wear an evening gown or something like that.

“Okay.” Uraraka’s cheeks were still pink and the smile on her face was nervous for some reason, but she didn’t look bothered that he’d asked her to hang out. He had worried that he might come off as weird or annoying, but then she had always been very friendly and warm. “This will be fun!”

It would certainly be interesting. Todoroki nodded his head in agreement, bid her and Midoriya goodnight, and left for his dorm. Midoriya wore a bright, wide-eyed stare and it took him a beat to respond. He wasn’t sure why his friend looked so shocked, but it didn’t matter. Dwelling on it was pointless and he was tired. He had a lot to do tomorrow if he was going to slack off at night.

[reciprocityfic]

newton’s third law, chapter 5

Title: Newton’s Third Law Fandom: The Walking Dead Pairing: Rick x Michonne Rating: M Summary: Post 8x08.  Michonne and Rick try to process what’s happening around them.

Author’s Note: This is it, guys! Thank you for reading and reviewing and taking this journey with me. When I first started getting flashes and ideas of this in my head, I never intended to write them down or put them into a story. But I'm glad I did, and I'm glad you all have enjoyed what is basically my version of 8x09 and 8x10. I hope I've done the story and these versions of Rick and Michonne justice in this final chapter.

Before I go, I'd like to give a shoutout to the songs that got me through writing during the times I thought I'd never finish this:

life and death - michael giacchino (chapters 1, 2, 3) arrival of the birds (piano cover) - david de miguel (chapters 2, 3, 4) roslyn - bon iver and st. vincent (chapter 4) alps - novo amor and ed tullett (chapter 5)

They're all absolutely gorgeous songs, and I totally recommend you check them out if you have the time.

Sorry for this novel of an author's note. Again, thank you for your reviews, encouragement, love, and support. I hope you enjoy the last chapter!

chapter one on tumblr, ao3, or ff.net chapter two on tumblr, ao3 or ff.net chapter three on tumblr, ao3 or ff.net chapter four on tumblr, ao3 or ff.net chapter five on ao3 or ff.net

chapter five: okay

She’s woken up the next morning by rays of morning sunlight shining in through the window, bright in her eyes and warm on her skin.

She squints, and brings one of her hands up to rub down her face.  As she starts to shed the heaviness of sleep from her mind, she registers the feeling of Rick wrapped around her.  She turns in his arms to face him.  His eyes are still closed, and his breathing is still steady and slow as he continues to sleep.  Lifting one of her hands again, she runs a fingertip lightly down the slant of his nose.  His face twitches, but he still isn’t roused, and she admires him for a few more quiet moments before pressing a kiss to his bare chest and turning back around in his embrace.

The light of the sun washes over her face again.  She finds she doesn’t resent it like she did the day before.

Her eyes flit closed, and she drifts in and out of a light doze before she feels Rick begin to shift behind her.  He presses two kisses onto her shoulder, and she turns again, to her other side.  She finds him looking at her, his blue eyes bleary and only open into slits, but he doesn’t look as tired as he did yesterday.  The dark circles under his eyes are gone, and some of the lines creasing his skin have eased, and she feels something stir inside her.

He leans forward, and places soft kisses to her hairline and each of her cheeks until capturing her lips in a kiss that’s longer and more firm.  When they separate, he pulls her closer to him as she slides up and nuzzles her face against his, closing her eyes.

“Mornin’,” he whispers to her.

“Morning yourself,” she whispers back.

They don’t say good morning, because the morning isn’t good.  Not with what they lost only hours ago.  And she knows the day won’t be good either.  Not yet.  It might take a long time for the mornings and days to be good again, and they might not even be better, at least for awhile.  But she has him, now.  They’re together.

And she feels something stirring inside her.  She can’t really identify it, but it’s one of the few things in the past two days that doesn’t feel bad.

When she pulls her eyelids open again, the thin, red line on his cheek catches her gaze, and holds it hostage as a frown takes over her mouth and regretful sorrow clenches at her heart.

She passes her fingers over the place where she sliced him with her katana, the crusty bumps of the scab that’s formed gently scraping at her skin.

When she doesn’t speak, he murmurs, “It’s okay, Michonne.”

She shakes her head, still staring at the mark.

“No, it’s not.”

“It’s not like you meant to do it.”

“You could’ve gotten infected.”

As she thinks about it now, she doesn’t know how he managed to not get infected, with all the blood and guts that coated the blade of her sword.

He lifts one of his hands and holds it over hers on his cheek, stilling her fingers.

“But I didn’t,” he tells her.

She finally manages to tear her gaze from his injury, and finds him looking at her with soft eyes.  He gives her the slightest smile.

“I didn’t get infected, and you didn’t die trying to take down that herd.  Let’s just take our wins, instead of punishing ourselves for the losses we think we deserved.”

She’s quiet as she lets his words sink into her brain, and she knows he’s talking about more than him avoiding infection and her not getting herself killed.  He’s talking about Carl, too, and Alexandria, and Sasha, and Glenn and Abraham, and Lori, and Andre and Mike, and all the things that have been taken from them.

She nods slowly, and then buries her face in the crook of his neck.  They lay there on her pallet of blankets, quiet and intertwined, breathing together.  The sun shines in through the window and caresses their skin, and she’s glad for it.

After a little while, she kisses the underside of his jaw.

“We should go to The Hilltop.  They’re probably worried about us.  And I’m sure Judy misses us.”

“I miss Judy,” he says, and she hums in agreement.

“Then let’s go see her.”

He pulls her body closer to his as she stretches and slides her toes along his shin, before releasing her.  He begins to get up, but she wraps her hand around his upper arm before he can stand.  He pauses and looks down at her in question.

“We’ll have to tell Enid,” she says solemnly.  “And Maggie.  Carol, when we see her.  Aaron and Morgan.”

He nods once, and reaches out to tuck a few of her locs behind her ear.

“We will.  We’ll tell them together,” he promises.

Together.

She leans up and kisses him once more, and then they rise, going to their room and showering quickly before pulling on fresh clothes.  They grab backpacks and throw in some spare shirts and underwear, before entering the kitchen and packing up all the food they have left, and then make a loop around the house and take everything they see that could be useful.  Before they walk out the door, she runs into the dining room and grabs the wire cat he got her at the junkyard from its place on the china cabinet.

When she rejoins him, he looks at metal sculpture she’s holding and sends her a sideways glance.

“Hey, I lost the last one at the prison,” she defends.  “I’m not losing her, too.  Plus, I like this one more than that one.”

“More that the last one?” he questions, raising his eyebrows.  “The colorful one is more you.  This one’s a lot...duller.”

She shrugs.

“Yeah, but I’m kinda fond of the person who gave me this one.”

She swears she almost sees the ghost of a real smile pass over his face for a second.  And something stirs inside her.

They start towards the door again, but he stops suddenly, mumbling shit under his breath as he turns and jogs up the stairs.

When he comes back down, he’s holding the framed picture of Carl and Judith he keeps on their dresser in one hand, and Carl’s hat in the other.

She pauses, and then takes a deep breath as she steps forward, trailing her fingers over the brim of the hat.

Her eyes lock with Rick’s, and  then they turn to leave once again.

They sneak out through the back door, because they’ve had enough of the walkers gathered at the foot of the porch, but when they round the corner of the house they find the walkers gone, only a couple of stragglers milling about in the front yard.  She can hear moans off in the distance.  Something must’ve caught their attention overnight.

One corner of her mouth lifts briefly as she stares at the empty street.

They stop at Carl’s and Judith’s spot before continuing on.  She stands back as he makes his way to Carl’s grave, watching him as he kneels down and bows his head as he closes his eyes.  A few minutes pass before he opens them again, lifting his head back up.  After he does, he turns to look at her, and extends his arm.

“Come ‘ere,” he beckons her.

Her heart skips a beat as that same something continues to stir and bubble inside her, and she walks toward him, kneeling next to him, in front of the cross he placed at the head of Carl’s grave.  Their shoulders brush against each other.

They don’t speak right away, but eventually Rick whispers into the still air between them.

“He’s yours, too.  You know that, right?”

She turns to look at him, and finds him staring back at her with a love so severe that her eyes well with tears.

She does know that, deep in her heart.  Carl had referred to himself as her kid on more than one occasion.  And she and Rick had never spoken about it, but she still knew that he thought of Carl and Judith as their kids.  She saw it in his eyes every time he watched her interact with them.

But to hear him say it, so plainly and so openly.  It fills her with such an overwhelming joy that she can barely breathe.  And it means so much to her.  It means everything to her.

“He’s been yours for a long time,” he continues.  “Hell, he’s probably been yours since the day we went to King County and you two came back with that crazy cat.  And he looked up at me and told me you were one of us.”

She smiles, and it squeezes the tears from the corners of her eyes.  He touches her face, and catches and stops their path with his fingers.

“I know,” she says as she nods, her voice unsteady.  “I know.”

“You weren’t just his friend, ‘Chonne,” he tells her.  “You’re more than his friend.  You’re his mom.  And you’re Judith’s mom.  She’s yours, too.”

She nods again, but she can’t find her voice this time.  Overcome, she leans into his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around her.

“They’re ours,” he murmurs.  “Both of them are ours, and they always will be.  No matter what.”

She scoots closer to him, and inhales deeply as her heart drowns in love for Rick and their children.

They’re ours.

And something inside her stirs and stirs.

Rick grabs the sheriff’s hat from where he placed it on the ground beside him, and hangs it off of the top point of the wooden cross.

“You’re not gonna take it with us?” she questions.

He shakes his head.

“I don’t think so.  I’m gonna...I think I’ll leave it here.  It’s his, you know?  It’s still his.  It’ll always be his.”

She lifts her hand, and touches the soft felt of the hat again.

“And then, people will know this is him,” Rick tells her.  “Whenever anyone walks by here, they’ll know it’s Carl.  And it’ll make them think of him.  Remember him.  He deserves people’s memories.”

“He does,” she agrees, nodding once.

“Do you think it’s a good idea?”

She turns her head and finds Rick looking at her, slight insecurity etched in his features.  She places her hand on his thigh, and squeezes.

“Yeah, I do.  I like it a lot.”

He grips her forearm for a moment, and then switches his gaze back to the cross.  He closes his eyes as he inhales, long and careful, before opening them again and exhaling as he wraps his fingers over one of the branches of the cross.  She hears the whooshing sound of air as it rushes between his lips.

“I love you,” he says softly, speaking to their son.  “I love you with everything I am.  We both do.  And we’ll love you forever.  I miss you already, so much.  I’ve missed you every moment since you left, and I’ll miss you every second for the rest of my life.  Everything I’ve ever done, I’ve done for you, and that won’t change.  Everything I do in the future, I’ll do for you.  I’ll win this war, and raise Judith, and be with Michonne, and take care of the rest of our family.  And we have to go now, but we’ll be back.  We’ll build Alexandria back up, make it home again.  We’ll always be here with you.  And even...even if it ends up we can’t fix it, we’ll always come back to you, and be with you.  We’ll bring Judy with us, and Enid, and whoever else wants to come.  I promise you, we’ll always come back, no matter what.  I promise you.”

He leans down, and kisses the top of Carl’s hat.

“I love you,” he breathes.

She feels herself crying at Rick’s speech, and she wipes at her eyes.

He sits upright again, and they both take awhile to sit there with Carl, minds playing back all their memories of him.  Memories that they’ll hold onto for the rest of their lives, with everything they are.  With every inch of their souls.

When she hears Rick begin to move, she speaks.

“Can I have a moment with him?”

“Of course,” he says, hugging her into his side and pressing his lips against her hair before getting up, and she watches him walk to the edge of the grass.  When he stops, she turns back around, and slides the tip of her forefinger down the length of the center of the cross, a small, bittersweet smile gracing her face.

“Hey, buddy,” she whispers, a stray tear falling down her cheek.

She doesn’t know what she wants to say, exactly.

She wants to tell Carl how much she loves him, and how much she misses him, just as Rick did.  She wants to tell him that he’ll always be in her heart, that she thinks of him always.  How she hopes he’s happy, and that every speck of pain and suffering he ever suffered has healed so completely that he can’t even remember what it used to feel like.  That she hopes he’s been reunited with everyone he’s ever lost, that he’s hanging out with Glenn and Sophia and Noah and Beth, catching up with Sasha and Hershel and Abraham and Tyreese and all the other people that aren’t here on Earth anymore.  She hopes he’s with his mother, that he’s spending all the time with her he should’ve had, that the hole in his heart that formed when she died is gone, not a trace of it left behind.

She hopes he’s met Andre, that they’re friends and brothers now.  She wants to ask him to take care of her baby.  She wants to tell him that she already knows he is.

But words are evading her, and she’s afraid she won’t be able to convey everything she feels.  That she won’t be able to create something beautiful like Rick did.

She wants to tell him and she and his dad are together.  They’re heartbroken, and they miss him so much that it physically aches, but they’re together.  That they’ll be here for each other, and help each other, and find a way to sort through their pain side by side.  They’ll put each other back together again, piece by piece.

She wants to tell him that it will take awhile to stop hurting, and crying, and grieving.  It might take a long time, but they won’t give up.  They’ll keep going, keep fighting to mend their hearts, and someday, they’ll be able to wake up and smile.

She can’t manage to say it, though.  Her throat is caught, and it makes her hesitate and stop and start.  She begins to grow frustrated, but then Rick’s words pop into her head.  He told Carl that they’d come back - that they’ll always come back to him - and he’s right.

She realizes that she doesn’t have to say it all today.  They have to leave right now, but they’ll be here again.  She can speak to Carl in bits, tell him something new every time she sees him.  She can take her time, and consider her every word so she can be sure it means everything she wants it to.

She guess that he already knows it all, anyways.  That he can see what she’s thinking and feeling, now.  But she still needs to say it herself.  To tell him out loud.

So for today, she leaves him with a simple thought, but maybe the most important one she has.  The one she wants Carl to be sure of above everything else.

“We’re going to be okay,” she whispers to him, digging her fingers into the still-lose dirt below her and turning her face up towards the sky.  “I promise you, we’re going to be okay.”

The sun washes over her skin, and a warm, pleasant breeze blows blows in the softest way, swathing her body.  Something stirs inside her, and she still can’t pinpoint exactly what it is.  But she knows that it’s good, and not bad.  And she thinks it might be the first strings of a step in the right direction gently twining together in her stomach, the starting line of the journey towards hope beginning to grow.

She bends and presses her lips to the top of Carl’s hat in a kiss, in the same spot where Rick did the same, and murmurs her love to him twice more.

After taking a moment to gather herself, she stands and walks in slow steps over to Rick.  As she stops in front of him, he strokes her cheek, and she brushes her lips against his palm before he drops his arm back to his side.

“You ready?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she tells him.  “I am.”

He reaches out, and holds her hand.

A/N: And they all lived happily ever after forever and ever the end.

The line, "We're going to be okay. I promise you, we're going to be okay," is from This Is Us 2x15. It's an incredible show, and you should watch it if you aren't already.

I'm sick, so reviews would make me happy.

Thanks for everything, my dears! Hope to show up with something new soon.

xoxo, Rebekah

[kookmingold]

Favourite Jikook stories/au’s on AO3

Hope this list helps out! Got some of you asking about it so made a full post :) 

1,  On Patrol - Season 2 by Ragi (season 1)   Officer Jeon still has his eyes on Mr. Adorable. Officer Min is a little bit in love with his neighbor. Captain Kim finds comfort in his new family. It's happily ever after for everyone...right? I mean, really, what can possibly go wrong?

2, Heartwrecker by yuuami “What if you accidentally fall in love?” Jeon Jungkook is a full-time student and part-time "Heartwrecker": that is, he gets paid to break up relationships by seducing women away from their partners. His records, much like his appearance, were flawless. But when Jungkook is hired to break up the relationship of Taehyung’s childhood best friend, he finds the presence of overwhelmingly attractive Park Jimin a bit more distracting than he could ever expect it to be…

3, Ocean Eyes by BansheeAHo Jimin spent a long time trying to gather pieces of his heart with trembling hands, only for Jeongguk to stumble and let it fall to the ground again.

4,  My Favourite Kind of Crime by DulcetSmiles Jeon Jeongguk's your everyday police officer, working the daily grind and getting through life without much of a care. It isn't until a certain Park Jimin is transferred to his division that he starts to question things he hasn't before, coming face to face with feelings he isn't quite sure of.

Or

That one cliche trope where Park Jimin is so attractive that Jeon Jeongguk finds himself questioning his sexuality.

5,  your little moon face, shining bright at me by cygnus (lucid_wisteria) “Whoa,” Jimin let his mouth slightly hang open in complete awe. His voice-- it was rich and dulcet, a beautiful tone that seemed to enrapture the entire audience as well. There was an airiness to his voice, something akin to tender passion intertwined with a soft spirit, effortlessly undulating through the run of notes and ad-libs. No one seemed to care about the small junctures of instability, no doubt from the anxiety he had from his first time performing in front of others, and it was only the subsequent beauty they could focus on, “he’s--”“Hot.” Hoseok finished for him, eyes blown wide with delight. Jimin frowned and gave him an inquisitive leer. He caught Jimin staring, “What?"

Or

Jimin meets someone interesting during one of their open mic nights.

6, Énouement by Hobimii In which Jeon Jeongguk is a chauffeur who's stuck with a guy that won't stop requesting a pick up from him. Park Jimin refuses to be taken anywhere if the driver is not Jeongguk. Rich boys are a fucking handful to deal with.

7, Muted love by papa_ya But the words are silent, falling from his lips and rolling soundlessly down the floor. His mouth moves uselessly, trying to emit sound, and sound. He is a marionette on broken strings. What the fuck? Jimin frowns. Concern etches his soft features. Kookie, what’s wrong with your voice?”

--Or;

Jimin is a model living with his tattoo artist boyfriend. Nine years into their relationship, Jungkook loses his voice. The only cure is to say the thing he has been holding back from saying. 8, Pick me up by Priska "I'm older, that makes me your hyung." He explains as if it wasn't obvious and jungkook has the audacity to actually look offended. "But I'm alpha and you're an omega. Age doesn't matter, I'm above you."

9, Things Half Done (Things Half Said) by gloomy Jungkook tries to deal with living 325 kilometers away from his best friend, and finds that he simply can't.

10, We're headed to nowhere (but nowhere is somewhere to me) by soxfordcomma In which jimin's husband stopped loving him a long time ago, and the universe wants to bring the glow back to the young man's cheeks. (This was published a few days ago but guyyyyys I’m already in love with it. After On patrol and Ocean Eyes this is a must read for me)  11,  너의 목소리 Your Voice by pinkmonnie

"Is it possible to fall in love with someone just by the sound of their voice?"

Jeon Jungkook is a twenty-three year old young man, starting his tertiary studies at Seoul National University. He is incredibly independent, handsome, and rich. He is mute. The only thing he loves to do is live inside his own little world full of books and music and photographs.

Park Jimin is a twenty-five year old Assistant Professor in the College of Humanities. He moved 3 minutes away from campus just so he could dedicate more time to researching and teaching. His dream is to become an actual Professor and write books about Japan.

They fall in love. 12, Don't Think, Don't Speak, Just Smile for Me by Ragi Jimin's not entirely certain that he'll be alive to see his 18th birthday and finally escape from his father's abuse, but Jungkook's music keeps him believing that he might actually make it.

13, The Bet by jonghyunslisterine Where Jeon Jungkook makes a bet that he can get the notoriously single Park Jimin to sleep with him by the end of the semester.Needless to say, things don't go exactly as planned.

14, Can't pin me down by busan_brat Jeon Jungkook is Asia's biggest pop star and it is Park Jimin's job to make sure that it stays that way. (This is my forever favourite, it’s super good.) 

15, Once upon a timeshare by namakemono Jungkook is in desperate need of a vacation, but spending two weeks in Namjoon and Hoseok’s timeshare in Okinawa with his recently separated ex of three years was probably (definitely) not what he had in mind. 16, Nice Guy by drpuffles Jeon Jungkook is 23 and already the CEO of SJ Group. He thinks he's got everything figured out, until he meets Park Jimin.Their lives become more intertwined than Jungkook could've ever imagined.

17, Can You Give Me My Breath Back by DeadpanSnarker Six months till the tournament that would decide Jungkook's future. Six months where he and his team were in dire need to monopolize the ice-rink that had taken a liking to Uni’s new sweetheart. Where Jimin made a bet with Jungkook, which, if Jungkook lost, he would have to be taught how to ‘truly’ skate.

Or as how Jimin had phrased it, ‘By the time I'm done with you, you’ll have fallen in love with figure-skating’. Surely things didn’t work out in Jungkook's favour.

In their fickle game, Jungkook is in for sex and Jimin is in for love. By the end of the six months, perhaps he would like figure-skating, but he would have adamantly fallen in love with the figure-skater.

[thefauxfox-blog]

Vicarious

A Sanders Sides fic that will hopefully have multiple chapters Honestly, there was a prompt I saw- I have no memory of who said it, if anyone knows PLEASE HELP ME CREDIT THEM- it was about Person A always wanting to be a hero but being normal and meeting Person B, who’s got heroic powers but really isn’t into the whole hero thing.

Summary: “Wait, don’t go! I just… You don’t understand, I’ve always wanted that, I’ve always wanted what you have, I’ve spent my whole life dreaming about it, and you’re just… Please, just tell me your name.” “I… I’m Virgil.”

Warnings: cursing, potentially violence in later chapters

A/N: I have no set update schedule for this- this is the worst time for me to start writing something but I had to get this out. It’s set in the same universe as the Avengers, Defenders, etc. (Also I use a lot of personal experiences to help write this so I apologize if there’s things that are unclear, feel free to message me and ask questions or even just to chat!) Also posted on AO3

Roman lifted his chin, enjoying the feel of the thin, cold air pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck and ghosting over his shoulders. The wind caught the long line of red behind him and gave it lift, ripple, life. The city sat below him, expectant. Waiting.

His city.

He stepped carelessly to the edge of the building and stepped further out into the air, tilting his body forward, and the air supported him. Below his chest was the ground, above his shoulders was his cape, the wind, the sky. He flew between skyscrapers and statues, looking for trouble, but all was well. That was his hard work. He had done this, taken care of everything, saved it all-

Something slammed into the desk near his head and he flinched upward, leaving the imagined city, falling back into the 300 person lecture hall that smelled of stale McDonalds and musty wood.

“This is not conducive to earning your degree,” Logan said disapprovingly, leaning on the book he’d just dropped on Roman’s desk.

“You’ll just let me copy your notes later. And- it’s just biochemistry. We’ve already taken biology, and taken chemistry, so this is pretty redundant.”

The corner of Logan’s mouth twitched. “I suppose you’re not wrong.” Roman mentally patted himself on the back- Logan had said much the same thing at the beginning of the semester, and had repeated it several times, and there was no better way to please the nerd than by parroting his own advice back at him.

“I’m working after I’m done classes today anyways, I needed the sleep.”

“It’s, what, Memphis tonight?”

“Right. They’ve got a really elaborate setup, from what Talyn texted me. A whole fake radio station roof and antenna. It’s quite lovely.”

“They could’ve used projectors and screens to just put a picture of a radio antenna up, rather than putting up all those heavy parts and doing that much construction work. It’s rather unnecessary, in my opinion. It looks dangerous to set up and take down.”

“Well, they needed me this evening, because I’m one of the only ones who’s harness certified and was available.”

“Just don’t neglect your classes. You’ll never be an Avenger if you fail out,” Logan teased.

“I told you that in confidence!”

“And I haven’t told anyone. Relax,” Logan said dismissively. “I would just sound ridiculous. And like a trashy gossip- ‘did I tell you my friend decided to try and get a massively difficult to obtain biological engineering degree just because he thinks it could help him make himself into a superhero?’ That would just get both of us laughed at. And you accomplish getting yourself laughed at enough without needing my aid.”

“You’re such a loyal friend,” Roman said sarcastically.

They went to the food hall for lunch, and Roman managed to stay awake through calc 3, physics, and physics recitation. He headed into work after that, saying goodbye to Logan, changing into his theater blacks and joining the crew setting up the show.

Memphis was lovely, and Roman loved theater, plays, singing, and music- he kept his coms set muted as he hummed along with all the songs from the left wing. When the show was over, the moment the curtain closed for the last time, he headed over to the harness rack and the scissorlift. Joan was already there, harnessed up, and swinging themself into the the lift. They snapped some switches and pushed the throttle.

It didn’t move.

“Uh oh,” they mumbled, widening his eyes at Roman. He got his harness tightened and hopped up with Joan.

“Is it on?”

“Gee, thanks Roman, I’m so silly, I just forgot to turn it on. Silly me,” Joan said, voice thick with sarcasm. They jiggled a few switches. “Is it dead? I unplugged it when I got in.”

“Hold on a moment, I’ll follow the cable back,” Roman said, swinging down. He followed it back to the plugs, and sure enough, it hadn’t been plugged in. He hurried back to Joan to tell them.

“Fuck. And we don’t have the boom lift this week, its at the State Theater. Fuck! Now what?”

“We’ll have to belay down from the grid,” Roman realized.

“Fuck! I hate that. This is probably all Graulnick’s fault, I know he was the one who used it last. Dammit. Fine. I’ll go let Scott know, you wanna grab the ropes and meet me up at the grid?”

“Sure. Here, put my phone in the office- I forgot to bring a cable for it.”

“I did too, actually, thanks for reminding me. See you up there,” Joan said, taking their phones and heading for the office. Grid rules were that you couldn’t bring anything up that wasn’t tethered to your body, or else if you dropped it, it could fall and hit someone below. They all had wrenches on strings attached to their belts, but often they would just leave their phones and any other belongings in the office, in their boss’s desk where it wouldn’t be stolen.

Roman gathered the ropes, clips, carabiners, and helmets they would need, and took the three sets of ladders up into the grid that held the curtains, mounted subs, battens, and currently one large and ridiculous (curse Logan for always being right) radio station roof.

He began tying the knots to the grid, opening the hatch, and looping the cables through carabiners and his harness. He’d only done this a handful of times, and was glad when Joan arrived- they knew more about this all than he did. They could’ve gotten the training books out, but it was a huge set, it was already 10PM, and they had to get everything broke down and back in the trucks before they would be able to go home and catch what sleep they could before the next day of classes.

Roman got his rig finished first, and lowered himself down to the fake roof, using it to balance but not applying his full weight. The antenna had to go first, so he and Joan set about removing bolts and loosening pieces. The entire setup was connected to several battens- long metal pipes that ran the length of the stage that were attached to motors that could raise and lower them with a control box down by the stage, but the setup had to be connected and disconnected from each other in the air, before lowering each section and batten.

Joan had been there in the morning when it had been put together, so he was disconnecting parts while Roman belayed up and down to bring him tools and put away parts. They got three of the five pieces disconnected and down- by then it was a bit after midnight, the stage was nearly empty with everyone else loading lights and speakers into the truck, and both Joan and Roman were exhausted.

“My fingers are fucking killing me,” Joan mumbled, rubbing grease into yet another stubborn bolt.

“My eyes hurt. And my hands. And my back. Heavens, all I can think about is the tomato rice soup I’ve got in the fridge. I just want to sit on the couch and watch Moana and eat soup.”

“We’re more than halfway done.”

“I biked in this morning. Odin’s pants, I don’t want to bike home in the cold tonight.”

“Shit, same, I forgot. Ugh,” Joan groaned. “Here, I’m done with this one, I won’t need it again for a while,” they said, passing Roman a heavy mallet, unclipping it from his belt and snapping it onto Roman’s own belt loop.

“Thanks. B-R-B,” he said, grabbing his rope cinch to raise himself back up to the grid.

He put the mallet in the tool bucket (also tied to the grid) and unclipped the carabiner from-

-he was falling.

The support around his torso was gone, and in an instant he was plummeting. The fall only took a few seconds, but it felt like a minute as he experienced each sensation- the sudden loss of tension around his shoulders, back, and legs, the jolt of shock in his stomach as he accelerated downward, the replying jolt in his heart as he went from sleepy to oh my god I’m going to die in a moment, the air- cold air pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck and ghosting over his shoulders-

Something struck him from the side, knocking the wind from his lungs, and his direction changed from down to sideways.

For a moment, there was nothing but the pressure of someone’s arms around him. He blinked and focused and saw the grid above him, half the radio station roof still hanging, then looked further and saw feathery brown and purple hair, tousled in the still air, round expressive eyes the color of warm maple and of the same liquid consistency. Dark streaks of eyeshadow, high cheekbones and strong bone structure, a wide mouth with lips slightly parted with surprise, ghosting warm breaths across the small space between them to Roman’s own mouth, sharing a moment of air.

Backlit by a halo of stage lights, suspended a dozen feet above the floor, wearing an expression that was both open and unreadable, and holding Roman safely in his arms, was the most beautiful man he'd ever seen.

And then he was lying on the floor, intact, alive, gasping, running his hands over himself in disbelief of his lack of broken-ness. His side hurt a little, and his neck felt vaguely whiplashed, but he was- he wasn’t dead? He wasn’t dead.

“Uh. Shit. I- uh. Are you- are you okay?” The gorgeous man was talking to him. A low voice that stuttered a little with uncertainty, at odds with the strength he'd felt a moment ago before being dumped out of his arms.

“Man. Hey. You alright?” Roman’s dark angelic savior said again. He had to swallow several times before he could speak.

“I’m- yes, I’m unharmed. Did you... save me!?”

“No. Yes. Uh… please don’t tell anyone.” Roman’s mouth dropped open a little, confused.

“What?!”

The man rubbed the back of his neck, looking away shyly. Oh heavens, even shy, he was cute.

“I uh… I caught you, yeah, so I guess I did. Please don’t- don’t, like, make a big scene or anything. I’m just a normal dude.”

“A normal- a normal dude?! You just saved my life! Did you- oh my god, you flew-” Roman realized, the scene replaying in his mind, trying to make more sense of it. Unhooking the wrong rope, falling, certain he was going to die, arms wrapping around him, a strong body impacting his from the side, grabbing him and flying him to the darkness of the side stage, dropping him between the curtains before alighting himself, soundlessly and gracefully.

“Shh. Please don’t tell anyone. I’m not a hero, I’m just an english major,” the man said pleadingly. Roman pushed himself to his feet, brushing a bit of dust from himself.

“No, you are a hero!” Roman exclaimed, but in a hushed voice, staying quiet as the man had asked.

“I’m really not, I don’t want to be, I don’t want to join the Avengers, I don’t even like New York, I just want to live a normal life,” he said quickly, putting his hands up.

“But you can fly!”

“Yeah, among other things, but really I’m just a normal guy, I swear- just a normal guy who got placed with some real great mad scientist foster parents for a few years when I was like, five. I didn’t want any of this, I just- I couldn’t let you die, and now I’m just gonna go back to being a normal guy.” He was backing away, but Roman couldn’t just let him go- he caught his arm.

“But you’re… that was amazing! Wait, don’t go! I just… You don’t understand, I’ve always wanted that, I’ve always wanted what you have, I’ve spent my whole life dreaming about it, and you’re just… Please, just tell me your name.”

“I… I’m Virgil.”

“Roman. Nice to meet you. Look, I promise I won’t tell anyone, but… don’t just disappear, I want to get to know you better. I- you’re incredible.” With each compliment, Virgil was blushing darker and darker red, but Roman could see in his eyes that the compliments meant a lot to him. “Let me buy you lunch sometime.”

“You don’t owe me lunch-,”

“I mean as friends. I… I think I'd like to spend more time with you. And also, how have we never met before? I thought I knew everyone who worked here,” he said with confusion.

“I usually work in the sound booth, with Luke. And I don’t talk to people much. I don’t really have friends. I mean- like, I don’t have many friends,” he stammered, looking embarrassed again.

“I have lots of friends, and we all work here. Why don’t we all get lunch sometime? I won’t tell them either, I promise. I just… this might  sound foolish, but I’ve spent my whole life dreaming of being a hero, and we just happened to meet like this? You might not believe in fate, but I do. And I won’t let destiny get away from me- I feel like we were supposed to meet.” Roman had always been an excellent people person- he could tell Virgil wasn’t used to compliments, friends, or reassurances like this, and he might have been putting it on a little heavy, but everything he said was true.

“I… what?”

“Can- blast, my phone isn't here, hm… Can I add myself in your phone?”

“Uh, sure.” Virgil pulled a large phone with a splintery screen from his pocket, unlocked it and opened a new contact, and passed it to Roman.

He entered himself in, as Prince Roman, and fired a text to his phone so he'd have this number.

“Okay, then- wait, why Prince?”

“Because rather than saving the princess, you saved the prince,” Roman proclaimed.

“I just did what anyone would have done.”

“No, you just did what nobody can do.”

“Ease up a little, would you? One lunch. No superhero talk. Just… keep it normal.”

“I accept your terms, but would just like to reiterate- you're not normal, you can fly.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever. Look, I gotta go back to the ramp, I want to be home before sunrise.”

“Agreed. I'll text you,” Roman called as Virgil ducked away, headed back out to the loading bay.

[readerwinterbarnes]

Breathe

Dean Winchester x OFC (Bianca)

Summary: After a hunt went bad, it leaves the trio a bit shaken in more ways than one. Thankfully Dean knows just what to do when that happens.

Word Count: 2,725

Warnings: Blood, flashback, slight panic attack, feels, SPN Family, swapping POV’s

A/N: Thank you thebeastinsideusall & @oh-goodness-loki for helping me with this one, as I’m not that well versed in SPN writing, but enjoy writing it. I’m trying to get things updated and posted before school starts, so thank you for being patient with me! :) 

No one hardly said a word as I drove back to the bunker with Zeppelin softly playing in the background. Sam was letting Bobby know how the hunt went and how they were going to take the next few cases off. Bianca hasn’t said a word since the hunt went down.

I couldn’t blame her, it was a case no hunter ever wanted to come across. Children going missing to only find out that it was a cult of witches who were taking the kids for their black magic ritual bullshit crap they were doing. Did we manage to take them out? Yes, but in the end, it didn’t seem like it was worth it. Ten kids were taken and only one made it out, only for him to die two hours later in the ER. Fuck, the kid was only eight. I should’ve told Bianca to sit this one out, but she’s stubborn for her own good and came along anyway. But I wish she never came with.

I checked on her through the mirror to find her the same way when we left. She was staring off out the window, not focusing on anything in particular. She wasn’t even here, her mind was elsewhere and it scared me. Bianca was affected the most on this fucked up case. Why? I wasn’t so sure.

It didn’t take us much longer until the engine shut off when I parked inside the bunker, Bianca grabbed her bag with a quick, ‘Taking a shower and going the fuck asleep, later losers.’ over her shoulder. Sam and I shared a worried glance.

“Bianca going to be okay?” Sam asked me looking at the door.

“I honestly have no idea. She hasn’t been the same since it went down, Sam.” We grabbed our bags and made our way inside, silently hoping to forget about this whole thing.

I ran towards the building as fast as my legs could take me. His screams begging me to find him. It was all my fault, this wasn’t supposed to happen. I was only getting food, I told him to hide. Why did I leave him?

I reach the building and rushed towards where his hiding place was, but I was too late. I came to a skidding halt as I saw his tiny frame unmoving on the hardwood floor with a figure standing above him. From the descriptions my father told me, I could tell instantly that it was a witch. So I did the only thing I could think of, I took the tire iron I carried with me and swung it at them. It wouldn’t have really made a difference and probably couldn’t do jack shit, but at the moment I didn’t care. But they just laughed at me and disappeared. I dropped down next to him and cradled his head to my chest, holding his battered up teddy bear between us.

“I’m so sorry, Tommy, I’m so sorry I failed you.”

I jerked awake and found myself struggling to breathe. My door opens, the hallway light streaming into the darkness of my room.

“Bianca? You alright?” Dean slipped passed the door and quickly made his way towards me. He brushed the tears away and held my head in his hands, speaking calmly to me.

“Bianca, you gotta breathe, okay? You need to breathe with me, you’re hyperventilating. Just follow me, okay?” I focused the green flecks in Dean’s eyes, grasping his wrists tightly as I listened to him talk to me. His voice pushed aside the gruesome memories, bringing me back to the present.

“You’re going to be fine B, come here.” Dean pulled me to him, maneuvering us so he was leaning against the headboard with me resting against him. He ran his callused fingers through my hair, as I breathed in deeply. Releasing his shirt from my clenched fist.

“You want to talk about it?” He asked, kissing my temple gently.

“I-I, yeah, yeah, I need to.” With a sigh, I sit up and lean against the headboard, our shoulders touching. I took his hand in mine and studied it for a bit so I could get my thoughts together.

“Dean, have you ever gone through an event in your life where it left you wishing you could’ve done something to prevent it from happening?” He was quiet for a few minutes.

“Yeah, there’s a lot I wish I could go back and fix, but you learn to deal with it.” I looked up at him, before memories of Tommy’s death and the previous hunt came flooding back. I looked back at our linked hands.

“This about the hunt right?” He took my silence as a yes.

“I should’ve done something, Dean. I should’ve been able to save them, instead, I failed! I let all those families down, Dean-”

“Bianca, it wasn’t your fault. If it’s someone’s fault, it’s the bitches who started this in the first place.” By now we were both standing on opposite sides of the bed, chests rising rapidly. Fists clenched at our sides.

“But I couldn’t save them.”

“Well neither could Sam or I, so we have to learn to deal with it!”

“But I couldn’t save my own brother!” Dean’s expression immediately changed from angry, to hurt, and confusion.  

“I couldn’t even save my own brother. Tommy shouldn’t have died. He was only five, Dean, and it was my job to protect him and look how that turned out.” Dean looked at me with sympathy and I couldn’t stand it. I failed Tommy, I failed those kids, it was my fault they didn’t make it. How can Dean ever understand what it feels like? Simple, he can’t.

“Bianca, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Just leave me alone, Dean, please.” I open the door to see Sam standing there with a sad expression, but I pushed passed him and ran down the hallway, unsure where my legs were taking me. Arms clasped around my waist as I let the tears fall.

I watched as Bianca pushed passed Sam and ran down the hallway, the sound of a slamming door echoing throughout the hallway. She looked lost, broken, and hateful. Hatred clearly aimed at herself. I understood the case was rough on her, who wouldn’t be shaken by this? But I never knew it was this bad.

Sam turns back to me from where she previously ran down the hallway. “What happened Dean? B going to be okay?”

“I honestly have no idea, Sam. The case hit her harder than I thought. Let’s…let’s just give her some space. I’ll check on her tomorrow.” We stood there for a while longer, before we both headed back to bed. Planning on how to approach her the next day.

Bianca never showed up for breakfast this morning and both Sam and I were both finishing lunch and there was still no sign of her. I knocked on her door several times, but I never received a response other than silence. With a sigh, I decided to make her some food anyway.

I put together a simple sandwich, apple slices, and grabbed a water out of the fridge. “I’m gonna try again Sam, see what happens.”

He nods in agreement. “You need anything from me? I was going to go do a supply run and return some books.”

“Nah man, I’m good. Call me when you’re on your way back?”

“Yeah, give a B a hug for me?” I nod and make my way towards her room, while Sam left to run errands.

Grabbing her plate and water, I made my way back down to her room just in case if she ended up back there. When her room was empty, I checked the library, armory, even the bathroom. The last place to check was the garage, and there she was. Bianca was lying in the back seat curled up with the blanket we kept in the back. I could hear Led Zeppelin playing softly through the open windows.

“Hey hotshot, mind if I join you?” Bianca slowly comes to and looks at me, as I peer through the glass.

“Dean, w’re doin’ ‘ere?” She grumbled, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she sat up.

“Well, since you slept through breakfast, thought I’d whip you up something. Can’t have you going hungry on us, now can we?” I slowly opened the door and held the food out to her. Bianca looked at it, then grabbed it.

“Get in before you let me freeze to death.” She smiled softly, holding up the blanket so I could get underneath. With her legs situated on my lap, food in hand, she sat back and ate. I wasn’t sure if she was ready to talk about Tommy yet and I wasn’t going to push her too either.

“I couldn’t save Sam,” I took a swig of my beer staring straight ahead, “sure he’s alive now, but,” I cleared my throat thinking back to the time where Azazel brought all of these special kids to a ghost town and had to fight each other to the death.

“He ah, he and a guy named Jake was left. Sam was able to kick him to the ground and everything was fine, ya know?” I chuckle softly, unaware of Bianca’s full attention on me. “Sam’s coming up to me, then all of a sudden Jake comes up behind Sam and stabs him with a fucking knife.” I finish off my beer and take a deep breath. “Bobby went after him, but that son of a bitch got away, but Sam, he...Sam died in my arms, B.”

She rests her hand on my arm, giving it a tight squeeze. I give her a tight smile in return. “Couldn’t even save my mom. ‘Course that’s a different story for another time.” I take her hand in mine and turn towards her. “So don’t you dare say it’s your fault Tommy died, because I’ve been there too many times to count, and each time kills me.” She looks away but doesn’t remove her hand.

“I’m not telling you that you have to tell me what happened. Not today, not tomorrow, or even next week, but please remember that Sam, Cas, Bobby, and I are all here for you. We’re family, we take care of each other.” I brush the lone tears that made their way down her face, kissing her temple softly, before gathering her into my arms. Minutes later, we were asleep in the protective walls of the Impala.

After having that talk with Dean, I felt better. I was still shaken up, but I’m well enough to grace the others with my presence. The boys stayed up late doing research for some fellow hunters every night for the past few days, which left them dead to the world the next day. So, I thought it would be nice to make them both breakfast.

The table was set with three place settings, juice, coffee, syrup, butter, yogurt, and fruit were all put on the table. Eggs and bacon came next, all that was left was the pancakes.

Just as the last of the pancake batter landed on the grill, groans and complaints filled the kitchen. Both Sam and Dean looked exhausted. It was funny to see Sam’s hair all over the place. They groggily sat down on the table, Sam helping himself to some orange juice, Dean getting coffee. With the last of the pancakes done, I joined them and began to help myself as well.

“Bianca, you didn’t have to do all this.” Sam looked at me with a grateful smile, Dean hummed in response as he helped himself to more food.

“Well I definitely, don’t mind it. B makes the best damn pancakes I’ve ever had.” I stifled a giggle as Dean continued to eat.

“I don’t mind Sam, besides, you and Dean have been busting your balls off. You guys deserve a break and need some decent food in you before you go back to it.” I filled a bowl with yogurt and topped it with fruit. “Not to mention, you guys have been a great help to me these past few days.”

Shortly after Dean and I talked, I told both of them about Tommy. How he died, how my parents were both hunters but tried their best to stay out of it, for our own safety. How that didn’t last long before my mother and father both died from a werewolf. How I held my father’s hand, telling me to keep Tommy safe. To be smart, leave no traces, take his notebook filled with everything I needed to know, get in the truck and drive. Drive away as fast as I could, far away as possible. So I gave them a hunter’s burial, grabbed Tommy and left. A thirteen-year-old, fighting against monsters to keep my five-year-old brother safe.

No one should’ve had to go through that. No one.

Sam's strong hand reached over and squeezed mine. “That’s what we’re here for B, you don’t have to do this alone. And Dean’s right, you do make the best damn pancakes I’ve ever had.” He gave me a smile, before getting up to put his dishes in the sink. “I’m just going to drop off what we found at Bobby’s and pick up a few things on the way back.”

Sam kissed the top of my head quickly before he left to get changed and leave. I helped Dean clear off the table and put the food away. As I started the dishes, strong arms wrapped around me, I leaned back into the strong chest contently. His lips were soft as they lingered on my skin, breathing me in.

“I’m really proud of you, Bianca.” I set the last of the plate aside, turning around to face him. Green eyes locked with mine, searching my face fondly.

“What for?” Before I could ask Dean again, his calloused hands cupped my face and kissed me. His lips were chapped, but I didn’t care, they molded and felt perfectly against mine. My hands made their way to the back of his head, gripping his hair lightly. His hands shifted to hold me against him tightly as if they never wanted to let me go. And I didn’t want them to. But eventually, we both had to come up for air. Foreheads resting against each other’s, breathing in the same air, Dean and I stood there just taking each other in.

“For trusting me enough for telling me Tommy’s story. For letting me help you even though you didn’t want it. For, for being there for me when I told you about Sam. For not pushing me about what happened to m-my mom, just…” I kissed him again, softly, taking his face into my hands. I ran my thumbs across his cheeks, my heart breaking at the far off hurt look in his misty green eyes. I no longer saw my Dean, I saw a glimpse of a man who looked lost, who was trying so hard not to let his emotions take over and break down the walls he tried so desperately to build.

“Thank you for giving me time to tell you and for always helping me.” I wiped away a stray tear that made its way out of his eye, “And I will always be here for you Dean, just as you’ve always been here for me. Because...because I love you, Dean. I always have.” Green eyes sparkled back at me, Dean was back. My Dean was back and it felt as if the world came back to life. He smiled once more before kissing me once again.

“I love you, Bianca. I love you so much I feel as if I can breathe again.” He said against my lips. I smiled back at him, looking at the green eyes I fell so in love with. I hugged him tightly, which he more than gladly returned, “I love you too.” I whispered softly into his neck.

For the first time in my life since Tommy’s death, I finally felt as if I could breathe again without fear. The road ahead of us might be rough, but with Dean at my side, it won’t be as bad.

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[smartcookie727]

Bruised and Battered

Thanks to @whereisthefood123 for the request! This was a longer one for me. I really wanted to explore the story that led to our lovely couple being in this situation. I also tried my hand at some angst, but never fear, there are some fluffy moments too. This is NSFW cause let’s face it I’m writing. I hope you enjoy! Send me a comment, ask, tag, whatever you feel like. I love hearing about your reactions and what worked in a piece. Ok, I won’t drone on any longer, enjoy!

Pairing: Gajevy 

Prompt: Did you really knock on my door at 1 am just to cuddle?

Length: 3k 

Bruised and Battered

“Guys, I’m alright, really!” Levy stammered through ground teeth. She wasn’t alright and they knew it. Still, they knew they were no longer welcome. Levy was upset and needed to rest. Jet and Droy hung their heads as Levy closed the door behind them. There was nothing they could do for her but dress her wounds. She needed to be alone. Levy sank to the floor of her apartment and wailed. She was covered in cuts, burns, and bruises; her scalp was crusted with blood—her blood. It was supposed to be an easy job, and she hadn’t been strong enough to save anyone.

The bandits had known they were coming. Team Shadow gear had decided to take a rest about two miles from town and discuss their plan. The job was simple. A group of about ten bandits, with two mages at their disposal, had been targeting a small town just off a major trade route. A job had been posted in the guild to remove the bandits. The group had taken on plenty of jobs like this before, so it seemed like a logical choice. They would follow the same plan as always when dealing with bandits, a trap. They even had a plan for the mages; Levy couldn’t stand going on a job without a plan. Levy would act as bait to draw the group out, and Jet would kick up a dust storm with his high speed magic to confuse them. Droy’s plants could immobilize the normal members, and Levy and Jet would take out the mages. If things got hairy with so many members, Levy could always make a cage with her solid script magic, allowing Droy to assist in the magic battle. It was their tried and true method, and it was their downfall.

One of the mages working with the bandits used telepathy magic and prepared an ambush for the Fairy Tail wizards. As Levy stood up from her seat, she was hit by a bolt of lightning. She screamed in pain as her brain tried to comprehend the situation. Droy was tackled by three bandits, preventing him from accessing the seeds his plant magic worked through. Jet was being chased by five others, some desperately hanging onto any appendage they could grab to slow him down. Shit. A surprise attack. The mages focused on Levy. If she went down, the others would no doubt follow shortly. A flurry of sparks exploded around her head, dazing her as she tried to dodge the wooden club the other mage swung. What was happening? The air was forced from her lungs with a blow to her side and Levy crumpled to her knees. This wasn’t good. She needed to do something. Searing pain tore through her body as she took a direct hit from the lightning mage. Levy felt her head spinning as her heart raced in panic. The wooden club hit her hip and she screamed again. Wood. That was it. Levy brought up a barrier of wood in an attempt to stave off the lightning bolts. Levy turned to find her teammates. Droy had managed to get ahold of some of his seeds, and his plants were picking off the bandits one at a time. Jet had also shaken his attackers; there were two bandits groaning on the floor. Her voice was hoarse as she tried to call out to them. No good. She inhaled deeply as her fingers began to write, and then everything went white. Levy could feel blood trickling into her ear as she fell. When had her protective spell failed? Then there was another crack. Every nerve in her body screamed. She screamed. A deafening howl coursed through their battle ground, and her teammates blood curdled. Levy didn’t even hear them call her name as she hit the dirt.

Levy flinched at the memory of the final blow before she’d been knocked unconscious. Her heart raced with the reminded fear, but she steeled herself. She needed to keep moving, to do something, to not drift into that nightmare again. It was already past midnight. She’d lost herself in the throes of her terror for a few hours now. Levy trudged to the shower and hoped the hot water would wash away her fear and blood. While it stung, it did manage to stop her hands from shaking. As Levy stepped out of the bathroom, clad only in a towel, she heard a loud banging on the door.

“Just a minute!” Levy called. As quickly as her injuries allowed her, she shuffled to her room and tossed on one of the oversized shirts she occasionally wore to bed. This one was Gajeel’s, and wearing it comforted her to some degree. The rasping on the door hadn’t stopped. “Hold on! I’m coming as fast as I can,” Levy yelled curtly as she made her way to the front door. She wasn’t moving fast, and the knocking still hadn’t subsided. Tossing her door open Levy barked, “What!?” Her throat was sore from her screaming and crying. Before she registered who was there, she was overtaken by a large mass of onyx hair. It covered her in a tight embrace and pinned her against a heaving chest. Levy balked for a moment before she recognized the smell of trees and iron. It was Gajeel. Crap, it was Gajeel. She had hoped she’d be able to avoid him until at least tomorrow when she went to the guild. She should’ve known better.

“Shrimp! Just what in the hell were ya thinking!” Gajeel yelled as he thrust her away. He carefully examined her battered form.

Levy meekly responded, “I…”

“And to find out from Lily! Who only knew because he ran into Jet and Droy on the way home!” he roared.

Levy was frustrated and tired, “Look…”

“I should’ve been the first place ya came when ya got back! Ya should’ve called me with a communication lacrima as soon as you were ok!”

“Gajeel, please.”

“Levy! Do you not get it? You could’ve died!” He grabbed her again, and drew her close. Softly, he repeated, his voice shaking, “Levy, you could’ve died.” They collapsed onto the floor, sobbing. His hands grasped her firmly, and she ignored the pain from her burns. Her fingers were laced in his hair, pulling him down to cover her. Levy cried uncontrollably into her dragon’s shirt. A little while later, their tears dried and they regained control of their breathing.

“I was knocked out so fast. I wasn’t strong enough” Levy said between sniffles. Her head hung low, averting her eyes.

“Shrimp. What the fuck?” Gajeel asked as he gently lifted her chin, “Yer plenty strong. Yer the strongest one on that damn team of yours.”

“I was the first to go down. The only one to go down! I couldn’t help anyone. They utterly—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Gajeel’s voice was like steel. “Why didn’t ya let me know the second ya were in town?” He stared her dead in the eye. “I’m yer man. I’m supposed to be here for ya, right?”

“Yeah.” Levy began rubbing her aching forehead. “I don’t know. I was embarrassed. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“I want to see you every time you look like this.” Gajeel helped her to her feet, and Levy shot him a confused glance. “And when yer done being silly about stupid things, I’ll take care of ya. Come on.” Gajeel guided her to the couch and laid down. She followed, curling into him. They barely fit on her small couch, but she didn’t mind.  She was starting to feel at peace. Levy could feel his heartbeat through the thin cloth on her back. Gajeel stroked her head and anywhere she wasn’t burned or bruised. He wanted to take away all her pain, but now right he needed rest. Gajeel inhaled deeply and did his best to lull her to sleep. Nuzzling her neck, he whispered, “From now on, I’ll go with you. I’ll be here to protect you. I’m your personal cuddle dragon for tonight.” Levy chuckled, and between the rhythmic stroking, thump of his heart, and warmth from his hold Levy drifted off.

The smell of stir fry and rice tickled Levy’s nose as she roused. She noticed she’d been covered in a blanket, and Gajeel—Gajeel was gone. Slowly, Levy righted herself until she was sitting properly on the couch. It was dark except for a single light in the kitchen. She blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted. Gajeel was hunched over her stove, and a lovely aroma of garlic, green onion, and ginger spread through her apartment. Levy yawned and began to stretch her neck. Sleeping on the couch always left her with a few sore spots.

“Hey, ya up shorty?” Gajeel called over the sizzle of the stir fry.

“Yeah. That smells wonderful, Gajeel,” Levy yawned. Her stomach growled audibly and a bright blush lit up her cheeks. “How’d you know I’d be hungry?”

“Just figured. Knowing you, ya probably kept running through the attack in yer head instead of taking care of yerself once ya got here. Ya need to eat if ya wanna get better,”

“You’re right,” Levy sighed, “that’s exactly what I did. I—I don’t even remember the last time I ate.”

Gajeel chuckled, “That’s what I’m here for.”

“My personal cuddle dragon for the night?” Levy teased.

Gajeel blushed. “I was just trying to make ya laugh and calm down.”

Levy smiled and giggled, “Well, it worked.”

“Ok, it’s ready. Ya didn’t have much to work with here, Shrimp, but I think it came out alright.”

Levy moved to stand and winced.

Gajeel shot her an exasperated look. “Don’t be an idiot. I’ll bring it to ya.” He began to gather bowls and cutlery.

“Thanks.” Levy eased back into as comfortable a position as she could find on the couch. “I’m not really used to being so…well…beaten up, I guess.”

Gajeel looked her over for a long minute. She really had taken a tough beating. He blinked away a tear. Levy didn’t have iron scales like him; she was fragile. “Would some tea help?” Gajeel planted a steaming mug in front of her.

Levy inhaled deeply. It was Jasmine tea, her favorite. Gajeel seemed to know more of her quirks than she’d thought. She watched him as he brought over their bowls. He looked quite handsome with his hair tied back in a bandana. She ran her bandaged hand through her locks. They were sticking out at every angle, she was sure she looked like a mess.

“Eat.” Gajeel ordered as he slumped down next to her.

“You know, Gajeel, you didn’t need to do this,” Levy said bashfully as she took her food.

“I said I’m taking care of ya and that’s what I’m gonna do. Even you can’t stop me, Shrimp.”

He was already scarfing down his food. Levy hadn’t even thought about how he was coping. It was probably hard on him to see her like this. “Ok. I won’t stop you.”

They finished their bowls in silence. Levy wasn’t quite sure what was supposed to happen next. Gajeel darted off to her room and returned with the book she’d left on her nightstand. He sat with his back on the arm of the couch and spread his legs to make room for her. “Ya get half an hour. Lemme know if anything hurts too much.”

Levy eagerly took the book from his outstretched hand. “Only half an hour?” she whined. Gajeel was silent. “Fine.” Levy snuggled with her back against his chest and began to read. Gajeel carefully rubbed her back and shoulders, aware of every flinch when he pressed a tender area. Still, it felt good. Levy’s muscles ached, but just his touch made her feel better. Even holding back, he was a bit strong for her, and she grit her teeth through the pain. She knew that a tough massage would help her muscles, even if it hurt now, and he was trying his best to help her.

“Alrighty. Time for bed.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her to her room.

Levy puffed her cheeks as the sudden motion caused her to drop her book. “Gajeel, really, you don’t need to go this far.” Levy looked up at him only to receive a glare. “Ok, ok.” With that, she let him place her on the bed. Gajeel grabbed his bandana and tossed it on the floor, then began to peel off his shirt. “Are you staying? Shadow Gear will be back in the morning to help me out, you don’t need to—”

“Lev.” He was facing her, moonlight from the window illuminating his bare skin. Gajeel really looked as if he was painted with iron. “I almost lost you today. I told ya, from now on, I go with you.”

Levy smiled, she was again on the verge of tears. Her dragon would always be there to protect her, to make her feel safe. She didn’t need to be scared. She had Shadow Gear, and they had saved her, but this was different. He looked at her like she was his treasure, and she knew a dragon would guard his treasure with his life. “Alright.”

Gajeel’s smile turned from relief to wickedness. “Plus. I didn’t come here so late at night just to cuddle. That woulda been selfish, and I’m not that kinda guy. I came to take care of ya” he paused, “and to make ya feel better.” Gajeel gingerly cupped Levy’s face and bent down for a long, tender kiss. She was his dainty treasure. He kissed her neck all the way down to her collarbone. “Why don’t I help ya with this?” Levy nodded. He pulled up his shirt, it really did engulf her, and tossed it to the side. He looked at her for a moment. Taking in the sight of Levy: bruised, battered, and beautiful as she was bathed in the moonlight. The bruises across her ribs were perfectly visible. As long as he didn’t hurt her he wasn’t going to stop.

Gajeel sat on the bed and pulled her by her underwear into his lap. He kissed her collarbone, circling and placing gentle pecks on some bruises; she didn’t seem to mind. His hands ran circles around her ass. It felt like his cock hardened instantly as Levy moaned softly. This was exactly what he’d hoped for. She wasn’t in pain. He ventured lower, running his tongue around her breasts. He could feel her ass lifting involuntarily as she pressed herself against his lips. He moved one hand to her left nipple and circled it with his thumb as he sucked on her right, gently grabbing the tip with his teeth and twisting slightly from side to side. He knew it would drive her mad with pleasure, and it did. He felt the muscles in her back relax as she fell further into him.  Her moans became deeper as he sucked harder, and he switched effortlessly to the other breast, repeating his wonderful torture.

Gajeel snuck a hand under her panties as he returned to her lips. She kissed him eagerly, her tongue practically begging him for more. She grabbed his back, running her hands over his muscles. She loved to feel them and he knew it. He took a special pride in those muscles, and since he’d first claimed her, he’d made sure they were well developed. Gajeel toyed with her clit, she was so wet, so gorgeous as she turned to putty under his firm hands. Her nails dug into his back as he played with her. He knew all her curves, and during her massage he’d been sure to memorize the places she was too tender to be touched. Levy moaned louder as he dipped a finger into her core. She thrust her head back as he picked up speed; he felt her hard tips ticking his own nipples as she bounced against him. It was torture trying to contain himself, but she wasn’t quite ready.  

Tenderly, he laid her onto her back and set to work, teasing her with his mouth over her underwear. Occasionally he nipped at her thighs, they were too soft and jiggled too wonderfully to ignore entirely. Levy’s mewls of pleasure became higher and more strained, and Gajeel knew she was getting close. He grabbed the fabric with his teeth and swiftly tore it from her soaked folds. Finally, she was completely bare. Gajeel wasted no time and dove back in, sucking feverishly on her clit as his fingers pinched and twisted her nipples. She was so close. Gajeel couldn’t take it anymore, the smell of her need was intense and his cock needed to be inside her. He released one hand from her soft flesh and thrust into her with his finger, curling inside of her until she cried out and her walls began to contract around him. He kept his lips firm against her has she rode out her orgasm.

Levy was breathing heavily when he finally released her. Gajeel tore himself from his desire as he walked to the door. Her head was still in the clouds, and she didn’t register the sound of his boots and belt hitting the floor, nor the rush of fabric as he kicked off his pants. “Gajeel, where are you–”

The lights went out. Then she felt his hot skin press against her again. He ground himself against her core, eagerly coating his length in her wetness. Gajeel kissed her again, strong and eager. “I’m not going anywhere. I haven’t made ya feel better, yet.”

[everettwilkinson]

MUELLER ‘has enough evidence’ to charge FLYNN — BEYOND THE BELTWAY: SEXUAL MISCONDUCT rocks statehouses — More DONNA BRAZILE fallout — CNN’S David Chalian and Justin Bernstine wed — B'DAY: John Harwood

BREAKING … NBC NEWS — “Mueller Has Enough Evidence to Bring Charges in Flynn Investigation,” by Julia Ainsley, Carol Lee and Ken Dilanian: “Federal investigators have gathered enough evidence to bring charges in their investigation of President Donald Trump’s former national security adviser and his son as part of the probe into Russia’s intervention in the 2016 election, according to multiple sources familiar with the investigation.

“Michael T. Flynn, who was fired after just 24 days on the job, was one of the first Trump associates to come under scrutiny in the federal probe now led by Special Counsel Robert Mueller into possible collusion between Moscow and the Trump campaign. Mueller is applying renewed pressure on Flynn following his indictment of Trump campaign chairman Paul Manafort, three sources familiar with the investigation told NBC News.” http://nbcnews.to/2zyReDm

Story Continued Below

Good Sunday morning. THE POWER OF PLAYBOOK — PUTTING THE PIECES TOGETHER: “Sexual misconduct allegations rock statehouses,” by Illinois Playbooker Natasha Korecki, California Playbooker Carla Marinucci and New York Playbooker Jimmy Vielkind: “Statehouses from Boston to Sacramento have been rocked by an onslaught of sexual misconduct allegations, creating unprecedented pressure on state legislative leaders to take immediate action.

“Amid a flood of recent testimonials from female legislators, staff and lobbyists, a portrait is fast emerging of male-dominated state capitol cultures rife with sexual harassment and bereft of protections for victims, where complaints from women frequently languish — or are outright ignored. In Illinois alone, hundreds of women signed onto an open letter charging a pervasive predatory culture in the state capitol, prompting a public hearing that exposed a grossly neglected, nearly non-existent reporting system. Already, one high-ranking Illinois lawmaker has been stripped of his leadership post — and mandatory training from an outside professional is likely to become legally required. An emergency meeting of an ethics commission is set for next week.” http://politi.co/2zi3Goh

SUNDAY BEST — TAX REFORM TIMING — SPEAKER PAUL RYAN told “FOX NEWS SUNDAY” host CHRIS WALLACE that Republicans are on track to move the tax reform bill through the House before Thanksgiving with hope to get a final bill on the president’s desk by Christmas. http://politi.co/2zhb8Ca

— CHUCK TODD speaks with SEN. JAMES LANKFORD (R-OKLA.) on NBC’S “MEET THE PRESS”: “If this tax bill increases the debt too much, you’re a no?” LANKFORD: “I am a no. I want to make sure we have reasonable assumptions in the process for growth estimates.”

WEEKEND NUMBERS: WAPO’s DAN BALZ and SCOTT CLEMENT: “Approaching the first anniversary of his victory over Hillary Clinton in the 2016 election, Trump has an approval rating demonstrably lower than any previous chief executive at this point in his presidency over seven decades of polling. Fewer than 4 in 10 Americans — 37 percent — say they approve of the way he is handling his job.” http://wapo.st/2lT6bdz

BOSTON GLOBE’S MATT VISER: “A year after Trump’s election, York, Pa., is forever changed” http://bit.ly/2Akw9tv

WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING … TRUMP ABROAD …

— POOLER WSJ’S MIKE BENDER: “About 6.5 hours into the 8-hour flight, POTUS unexpectedly walked back to the press cabin and spoke for a little less than 12 minutes. During that time, he went off the briefly went off the record at two different moments. Wearing a white shirt with no tie and his collar open, he was in good spirits — joking with reporters, and taking a few questions from the trip. … ‘I think it’s expected we’ll meet with Putin, yeah. We want Putin’s help on North Korea, and we’ll be meeting with a lot of different leaders.’ … Explaining his Aramco tweet: Said he spoke to the Saudi King during the flight: ‘I know they’re looking at London, I know they’re looking at others, they’re probably looking at themselves, they have a much smaller stock market. So I would like them to consider the New York Stock Exchange or NASDAQ.’”

— ON THE BUSH BOOK: “I’ll comment after we come back. I don’t need headlines. I don’t want to make their move successful.”

— AT GOLF: The two leaders signed white ball caps that read, ‘Donald and Shinzo Make Alliance Even Greater.’

— AT DINNER: “Hello everybody. Thank you very much for being here. We’re in the midst of having very major discussions on many subjects, including North Korea and trade and we’re doing very well. Doing very well. Our relationship is really extraordinary. We like each other and our countries like each other. And I don’t think we’ve ever been closer to Japan than we are right now. It’s a great honor, it’s a great honor. We’ll have dinner tonight. I think we’ll insult everybody by continuing to talk about trade. But the time is a little bit limited and then tomorrow is a very busy day.’” On the menu: Hokkaido scallops and white truffle salad, sautéed Shizuoka’s ise-ebi bisque and Tajima beef steak.

ANDREW RESTUCCIA in Tokyo — “Trump gets ready to ‘maximize pressure’ on North Korea”: “President Donald Trump eased into his 12-day sprint through Asia with a round of golf and a private dinner with Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe, one of his closest allies on the international stage. But the seemingly carefree start to his five-country tour belied the sky-high stakes of the trip. With the threat of North Korea’s burgeoning nuclear weapons program looming, the grueling swing through the region — the longest trip since Trump took office — will likely be a defining moment for the president.

“The White House’s top priority for the trip is to ratchet up pressure on Asian nations to denuclearize North Korea. But the administration is also under pressure to confront a series of other challenges, including China’s unrelenting dominance of the continent and Trump’s desire to challenge what he deems unfair trade practices.” http://politi.co/2zjm0zi

— @JenniferJJacobs: “Trump thought about throwing a party to celebrate one-year anniversary of his election victory then thought better of it, he told us on AF1.”

****** A message from BP: We invest more in the U.S. than in any other country. And we reinvest every dollar we earn here right back into the American economy. See how our investment in America is at work in your community. ******

TRUMP’S SUNDAY — Trump is speaking to U.S. and Japanese business leaders this morning. He and the First Lady will participate in an embassy meet and greet, in a welcoming ceremony and state call with Their Majesties Emperor Akihito and Empress Michiko of Japan. Trump will have lunch with Prime Minister Shinzo Abe of Japan, take an official photo with Abe, and hold a joint press conference with him. Trump and the First Lady will also meet with families of Japanese abducted by North Koreans. Tonight, they will attend a state banquet.

WHAT EVERYONE IS TALKING ABOUT — “Donna Brazile: I considered replacing Clinton with Biden as 2016 Democratic nominee,” by WaPo’s Phil Rucker: “Former [DNC] head Donna Brazile writes in a new book that she seriously contemplated setting in motion a process to replace Hillary Clinton as the party’s 2016 presidential nominee with then-Vice President Biden in the aftermath of Clinton’s fainting spell, in part because Clinton’s campaign was ‘anemic’ and had taken on ‘the odor of failure.’ In an explosive new memoir, Brazile details widespread dysfunction and dissension throughout the Democratic Party, including secret deliberations over using her powers as interim DNC chair to initiate the process of removing Clinton and running mate Sen. Tim Kaine (Va.) from the ticket after Clinton’s Sept. 11, 2016, collapse in New York City.

“Brazile writes that she considered a dozen combinations to replace the nominees and settled on Biden and Sen. Cory Booker (N.J.), the duo she felt most certain would win over enough working-class voters to defeat Republican Donald Trump. But then, she writes, ‘I thought of Hillary, and all the women in the country who were so proud of and excited about her. I could not do this to them.’ …

“As one of her party’s most prominent black strategists, Brazile also recounts fiery disagreements with Clinton’s staffers — including a conference call in which she told three senior campaign officials, Charlie Baker, Marlon Marshall and Dennis Cheng, that she was being treated like a slave. ‘I’m not Patsey the slave,’ Brazile recalls telling them, a reference to the character played by Lupita Nyong’o in the film, ‘12 Years a Slave.’ ‘Y’all keep whipping me and whipping me and you never give me any money or any way to do my damn job. I am not going to be your whipping girl!’” http://wapo.st/2zzadxO … $16.80 on Amazon http://amzn.to/2xMw0gL

— DOES ANYONE actually believe she could’ve and would’ve done this?

— BRAZILE talking to GEORGE STEPHANOPOULOS on ABC’S “THIS WEEK”: STEPHANOPOULOS: “Do you agree with Elizabeth Warren that the primaries were rigged?” BRAZILE: “I don’t think she meant the word rigged, because what I said, George, as you well know after I left this show on July 24, I said I would get to the bottom of everything. And that’s what I did and I called Sen. Sanders to say, I wanted to make sure there was no rigging in the process. I’m on the rules and bylaws committee. I found no evidence. None, whatsoever. The only thing I found, I found the cancer, but I’m not killing the patient, was this memorandum that prevented the DNC from running its own operation.”

–“Open Letter from Hillary for America 2016 Team”: “We were shocked to learn the news that Donna Brazile actively considered overturning the will of the Democratic voters by attempting to replace Hillary Clinton and Tim Kaine as the Democratic Presidential and Vice Presidential nominees. It is particularly troubling and puzzling that she would seemingly buy into false Russian-fueled propaganda, spread by both the Russians and our opponent, about our candidate’s health.” http://bit.ly/2h6ttr6

— SOME OF THE LETTER’s 120 signers included: Huma Abedin, Lily Adams, John Anzalone, Glen Caplin, Brynne Craig, Leslie Dach, Amy Dudley, Marc Elias, Adrienne Elrod, Brian Fallon, Jesse Ferguson, Tyrone Gayle, Teddy Goff, Mandy Grunwald, Alex Hornbrook, Connolly Keigher, Ron Klain, Elan Kriegel, Marlon Marshall, Jim Margolis, Nick Merrill, Robby Mook, Jen Palmieri, John Podesta, Christina Reynolds, Jake Sullivan and Josh Schwerin and Dan Schwerin.

KEEP AN EYE ON THIS — “Billionaire prince among dozens arrested in Saudi sweep,” by AP’s Abdullah Al-Shihri in Riyadh and Aya Batrawy in Dubai: “Saudi Arabia has arrested dozens of princes and former officials, including a well-known billionaire with extensive holdings in Western companies, as part of a sweeping anti-corruption probe that further cements control in the hands of its young crown prince. A high-level employee at Prince Alwaleed bin Talal’s Kingdom Holding Co. told The Associated Press that the royal was among those detained overnight Saturday.

“Reports suggested those detained were being held at the Ritz Carlton in Riyadh, which only days earlier hosted a major investment conference with global business titans from the U.S., Japan and other countries. A Saudi official told The Associated Press that other five-star hotels across the capital were also being used to hold some of those arrested. … Analysts have suggested the arrest of once-untouchable members of the royal family is the latest sign that the 32-year-old crown prince is moving to quash potential rivals or critics.” http://bit.ly/2zeyfNN … Investments of Kingdom Holding, fund controlled by Alwaleed bin Talal http://bit.ly/2zypFKe

****** A message from BP: We delivered 11 billion gallons of fuel in the U.S. last year – that’s enough to run all the cars in New York & New Jersey for the entire year. Find out what we’re doing in your state. ******

— NYT’s ALEXANDRA STEVENSON in Hong Kong: “Citigroup, 21st Century Fox, Twitter: Prince’s Arrest Touches Many”: “Among Prince Alwaleed’s crown jewels: sizable stakes in Twitter, Lyft, Citigroup and 21st Century Fox. He has gone into business with some of the corporate world’s biggest titans, from Bill Gates to Rupert Murdoch and Michael Bloomberg. His investments span the globe, including the historic George V hotel in Paris, the Savoy in London and the Plaza in New York. He has also invested in the AccorHotels chain and Canary Wharf, the London business development.” http://nyti.ms/2ywT1Zy

— TRUMP called the king of Saudi Arabia. White House readout: “[P]resident Trump noted that the King and Crown Prince’s recent public statements regarding the need to build a moderate, peaceful, and tolerant region are essential to ensuring a hopeful future for the Saudi people, to curtailing terrorist funding, and to defeating radical ideology – once and for all – so the world can be safe from its evil.”

FOR YOUR RADAR — “Securing North Korean nuclear sites would require a ground invasion, Pentagon says,” by WaPo’s Dan Lamothe and Carol Morello: “The only way to locate and secure all of North Korea’s nuclear weapons sites ‘with complete certainty’ is through an invasion of ground forces, and in the event of conflict, Pyongyang could use biological and chemical weapons, the Pentagon told lawmakers in a new, blunt assessment of what war on the Korean Peninsula might look like.” http://wapo.st/2zgyzt7

THIS IS A NEW ONE — “Mitch McConnell: Facebook, Google should help U.S. government ‘retaliate’ against Russia” — Fast Company: “‘What we ought to do,” McConnell said [on MSNBC yesterday], ‘with regard to the Russians is retaliate, seriously retaliate against the Russians. And these tech firms could be helpful in giving us a way to do that.’” http://bit.ly/2zyhoX4

SPEAKING OF RUSSIA — “Manafort proposes $12.5 million bail package,” by Josh Gerstein: “Former Trump campaign chairman Paul Manafort is offering to post $12.5 million-worth of assets — including his Trump Tower apartment — as part of a bail package to ensure that he appears for the trial he’s facing on charges of money laundering and failing to register as a foreign lobbyist, Manafort’s defense team said Saturday. Manafort’s lawyers identified three properties he is willing to pledge: the Trump Tower condo in Manhattan, a condo several miles to the south on Baxter Street in Chinatown and his primary residence in Palm Beach Gardens, Fla.

“In a court filing, the veteran lobbyist also said several life insurance policies worth a total of $4.5 million could be posted, although they’re held by trusts or Manafort’s wife Kathleen. In exchange for pledging the properties, Manafort is seeking to be released from home confinement at his Alexandria, Va. condo and permitted to travel freely in Florida, Virginia, Washington, D.C. and New York.” http://politi.co/2hF48Fm

FIRST PERSON — “I worked for Paul Manafort. He always lacked a moral compass,” by K. Riva Levinson on the cover of WaPo’s Outlook: http://wapo.st/2hevCET

— PAUL MANAFORT sent an email this week to his neighbors in his Alexandria condo building apologizing for the inconvenience of the media staking out the building, according to two residents and another neighbor who saw the letter.

ON TAX REFORM — “Multinationals grapple with Republican excise tax surprise,” by Reuters’ Amanda Becker in Washington and Tom Bergin in London: “The Republican tax bill unveiled last week in the U.S. Congress could disrupt the global supply chains of large, multinational companies by slapping a 20-percent tax on cross-border transactions they routinely make between related business units. …

“The proposed tax, tucked deep in the 429-page bill backed by President Donald Trump, caught corporate tax strategists by surprise and sent them scrambling to understand its dynamics and goals, as well as whether Congress is likely ever to vote on it. Reuters contacted seven multinational companies and four industry groups. None would comment directly on the proposal, with most saying they were still studying the entire tax package.” http://reut.rs/2j3BNMz

ELECTION WATCH — “Activists eye post-Charlottesville surge in black voting in Virginia,” by Kevin Robillard in Norfolk, Virginia: “Democratic activists expect a surge in black political engagement fueled by backlash to this summer’s violent white nationalist rally in Charlottesville could tip the scales in Tuesday’s Virginia gubernatorial race. … Turnout already shot upward in heavily black areas during the Democratic primary, compared to the last one in 2009, and Northam won big in those regions in June. Since then, black political groups have run a steady stream of radio and digital ads invoking Charlottesville and inequality in the criminal justice system, including NFL players’ protests of the issue. And they are talking with voters one-on-one in Norfolk and other African-American population centers to make a personal case about voting this year.” http://politi.co/2hGktto

SUNDAY BEST …

— BONUS: WALLACE and RYAN on “FOX NEWS SUNDAY”: “House Speaker Paul Ryan vowed Sunday that Congress would not interfere with special counsel Robert Mueller’s investigation into Russian meddling in the 2016 elections, a probe that has intensified with recent indictments of Trump campaign officials. … ‘We’re not going to interfere with his investigation. The investigation will take its course, and we will let it take its course,’ the GOP leader said. Ryan (R-Wis.) also said he believed that President Donald Trump would uphold his repeated pledge to not dismiss Mueller.” http://politi.co/2Aay2bs

— JAKE TAPPER talks with HOUSE MINORITY LEADER NANCY PELOSI on CNN’S “STATE OF THE UNION”: TAPPER: “Now, a letter from the Pentagon to members of Congress says that the only way to take out North Korea’s nuclear program with — quote — ‘complete certainty’ would be a ground invasion. Is that something that you could support?” PELOSI: “Well, I think we have to exhaust every other remedy. North Korea’s behavior is — has to be contained, stopped, reversed. They cannot have a nuclear weapon that they — my view, my concern about North Korea is not only what they’re doing, but what they’re advertising, that they may want to sell some of this technology. … I would like to think that we would exhaust every diplomatic remedy, because we’re dealing – we’re sticking a — poking a stick in the eye of a mad dog with some of what we’re saying.”

ON TAX REFORM — TAPPER: “There seem to be provisions that you could support. There is a tax cut for middle-class Americans, as well as for wealthier Americans. The plan doubles the standard deduction to $12,000 for individuals, $24,000 for couples. Is it not true that some lower- and middle-class families will do better under the plan?” PELOSI: “No. No, they won’t.” TAPPER: “They won’t?” PELOSI: “And here’s the thing, is they give with one hand and take away with the other. First of all, this — let me just give it a macro and then the micro, because the micro is very important, what it means in people’s lives. But the macro is that this thing will explode the deficit, the national debt.”

BOWLING GREEN NEWS — “BG man charged with assaulting Paul at senator’s home,” by Don Sergent: “A Bowling Green man was arrested Friday and charged with fourth-degree assault after an incident at the Bowling Green home of U.S. Sen. Rand Paul. Rene Boucher, 59, is in the Warren County Regional Jail in lieu of a $5,000 bond … Paul suffered minor injuries … Kelsey Cooper, Paul’s Kentucky communications director, issued a statement to the Daily News indicating that ‘Senator Paul is fine.’

“‘Senator Paul was blindsided and the victim of an assault’ … The arrest warrant in the case indicates that Paul told police his neighbor came onto his property and tackled him from behind, forcing him to the ground and causing pain. According to the warrant, Paul had injuries to his face and had trouble breathing due to a rib injury.” http://bit.ly/2zz3VOF

SNL COLD OPEN – “Paul Manafort’s House Cold Open” — TRUMP (played by Alec Baldwin) visits PAUL MANAFORT’s condo: “I just came by to check up on you.” MANAFORT (Alex Moffat): “Of course. I’m embarrassed. I only wore a casual $10,000 suit. I thought you were on your way to Asia.” TRUMP: “Everybody does. But in fact I sent Melania, along with a very convincing lookalike.” MELANIA (Cecily Strong), reading “Private Islands” magazine on Air Force One: “Donald: why are you so quiet? … Okay for the first time in 10 years, let me tell you about my day.”

TRUMP: “Paul: Believe me my staff is much happier that that look-alike is going. They were terrified that when I got to China, I would do that slant-eyes like that guy on the Houston Astros. Hilarious by the way. Everyone is so politically correct now. I’m surprised that you can even say Oriental rugs anymore, which by the way these are fantastic.” MANAFORT: “Yeah thanks thanks. I got a great deal, only a million bucks because I paid cash.” 5-min. video http://bit.ly/2yxs08o

PHOTO DU JOUR: President Donald Trump puts on a military jacket as he meets the U.S. troops at the U.S. Yokota Air Base, on the outskirts of Tokyo, Sunday, Nov. 5. | Eugene Hoshiko/AP Photo

WEST COAST WATCH — “Jerry Brown’s holy war on Donald Trump” by California Playbooker David Siders in Vatican City: “California has opened a new front in its war on Donald Trump — the Vatican, where Gov. Jerry Brown on Saturday sought to enlist the Catholic Church in his effort to undermine the president’s climate policies abroad. Brown, addressing a somber gathering of scientists, politicians and religious leaders here, rebuked Trump’s rejection of mainstream climate science as a ‘lie within a lie,’ urging religious establishments to help ‘awaken the world’ to efforts to reduce greenhouse gas emissions.” http://politi.co/2Aa2Yse

— “Poised for West Coast Dominance, Democrats Eye Grand Agenda,” by NYT’s Alex Burns and Kirk Johnson in Sammamish, Washington: “It is the stuff of liberal fantasies: a vast, defiant territory, sweeping along the country’s Pacific coastline, governed by Democrats and resisting President Trump at every turn. A single election in a wealthy Seattle suburb on Tuesday could make that scenario a reality, handing the party full control of government in Washington State — and extinguishing Republicans’ last fragile claim on power on the West Coast. The region has been a rare Democratic stronghold on an electoral map now dominated by vast swaths of red, and Republicans’ only toehold on power there has been a one-seat majority in the Washington State Senate.

“The prospect of such far-reaching autonomy for Democrats, who already hold all three governors’ offices as well as both houses of the legislatures in Oregon and California, has infused extraordinary energy into what might have been a low-key special election. The race is on track to draw more than $9 million in campaign spending, a record-breaking sum for Washington State. National environmental and abortion rights groups have mobilized, business associations and oil companies have poured in money, and a former vice president, Joseph R. Biden Jr., has intervened on the Democratic side.” http://nyti.ms/2h4gQg5

BUSINESS BURST — “The Inside Story of How the Sprint and T-Mobile Deal Collapsed, Again,” by WSJ’s Ryan Knutson, Drew FitzGerald and Dana Mattioli: “During months of merger talks with T-Mobile US Inc., Sprint Corp. Chairman Masayoshi Son sought a way to merge the two wireless rivals without really having to hand over the keys. There was discussion over inserting a provision to buy the combined company back after two years, two people familiar with the matter said. They explored giving the Japanese billionaire the right to increase his stake over time. He was offered the role of co-chairman.

“In the end, nothing worked. In a joint statement Saturday, the companies called off the merger for good. The abrupt turn of events derailed a deal that many on Wall Street have anticipated for years, and that Mr. Son has long desired. … The latest round of deal talks began to unravel in late October. The transaction that was being contemplated was an all-stock merger that would have given Deutsche Telekom control over the combined company and made T-Mobile Chief Executive John Legere the new firm’s head, the people said. Beyond having a voice as a major shareholder, Mr. Son wouldn’t be able to dictate the combined company’s direction.” http://on.wsj.com/2Aa7jvH

2018 WATCH — “Can Erik Prince Beat the GOP Establishment and Win a Senate Seat?” by NBC News’ Keri Geiger and Jon Allen: “In an interview last month in a noisy, crowded German bar in Washington, D.C., Prince acknowledged that he is ‘mulling’ a primary challenge to [Sen. John] Barrasso … ‘The people of Wyoming, they embrace very much Trump’s agenda and its senator should too.’ Or, Prince said, he ‘needs to be replaced by someone who does, too.’ … He advocates a tightly run Special Forces unit, overseen by a supreme commander (which he calls a ‘viceroy’) and assisted by private military contractors, that would not only ‘deny terrorists sanctuary’ but save the government billions of dollars over the long run. … ‘He [Trump] resisted the Pentagon’s approach all the way up until that weekend. If it was not for the debacle of Charlottesville and all the political pressure the president took that week, he would have done this,’ said Prince. …

“Barrasso hasn’t shown much capacity for raising money from Wyoming—one measure of the intensity of support for a candidate. Of the roughly $2.4 million he’s collected in itemized individual contributions since the start of 2013, only $130,525 — or 5.5 percent of the total haul — has come from the Cowboy State.” http://nbcnews.to/2yvFzVL

— PER KURT BARDELLA: “More than 80 members of the country music community have signed a letter urging songwriter Lee Thomas Miller to run for the Congressional seat currently held by Marsha Blackburn. Those signing the letter include Brad Paisley, Kix Brooks, Dustin Lynch, Jamey Johnson, Chris Janson, John Esposito (CEO of Warner Music Nashville), the famous songwriters behind almost every hit in country music Luke Laird, Craig Wiseman, busbee, Chris DeStefano, Corey Crowder, Ross Copperman, Kelley Lovelace, etc.” The letter http://bit.ly/2zgS1rS

BONUS GREAT WEEKEND READS, curated by Daniel Lippman:

— “The war against Pope Francis,” by Andrew Brown in The Guardian: “His modesty and humility have made him a popular figure around the world. But inside the church, his reforms have infuriated conservatives and sparked a revolt.” http://bit.ly/2h3NHSt

— “The Other Foucault,” by Bruce Robbins in the Nation: “What led the French theorist of madness and sexuality to politics?” http://bit.ly/2zbWaLw

— “Western philosophy is racist,” by Bryan W. Van Norden in Aeon Magazine: “Academic philosophy in ‘the West’ ignores and disdains the thought traditions of China, India and Africa. This must change.” http://bit.ly/2lNlcgJ

— “Philadelphia’s Boulevard of Broken Dreams,” by Charles F. McElwee III in the American Conservative: “At the same time as the Parkway is struggling, Philadelphia is also experiencing a renaissance. Over the past decade, the city witnessed a boom in commercial and residential development, game-changing investments made by universities, and gentrifying neighborhoods that had recently suffered from crime and blight. The Fairmount neighborhood, near the Art Museum, has turned into a thriving residential quarter and a popular nightlife destination.” http://bit.ly/2A7ns4S

— “How to Replace a Ghost,” by Alan Massey in Longreads: “En route to a wedding, Alana Massey is haunted by the ghosts of relationships past.” http://bit.ly/2zdzpa5

— “Here’s Why Vaccines Are So Crucial,” by Cynthia Gorney in the Nov. issue of NatGeo: “If children in poor countries got the shots that rich countries take for granted, hundreds of thousands of young lives could be saved.” http://on.natgeo.com/2zbsvo1

— “The Sins of Leon Wieseltier,” by Joseph Epstein in the Weekly Standard: “The climb and fall.” http://tws.io/2zead3j

— “The Dialysis Machine,” by Anne Kim in the Nov./Dec. issue of Washington Monthly: “How Medicare steers low-income and minority kidney patients toward the hell of dialysis—and keeps two big companies rolling in profits.” http://bit.ly/2zhcyMF

— “Decriminalization: A Love Story,” by Susana Ferreira in the Common: “Portugal’s remarkable recovery, and the fact that it has held steady through several changes in government—including conservative leaders who would have rather ushered in a return of the War on Drugs—could not have happened without an enormous cultural shift and collective change of heart around how the country viewed drugs, addiction, and itself.” http://bit.ly/2zgAy2F

— “What Killed the Democratic Party?” by William Greider on the cover of the Nation: “A new report offers a bracing autopsy of the 2016 election—and lays out a plan for revitalization.” http://bit.ly/2h6CrEU … The cover http://politi.co/2zkvjyP

— “How Much is Too Much to Save a Dying Cat?” by s.e. smith in Longreads: “A series of losses prompts s.e. smith to wonder why, if it’s inevitable, we tend to view death as failure.” http://bit.ly/2zaKE31

— “The True, Twisted Story of Amityville Horror,” by Michelle Dean in Topic: “There were haunted houses before Amityville, of course, but no one place has made as deep an impression on American pop culture in the past half century or so as the notorious Long Island home, the site of a terrible murder and then the basis of scores of books and movies.” http://bit.ly/2xZU7bN (h/t Longform.org)

— “The Russian Spies Who Fooled Seattle,” by James Ross Gardner in Seattle Met: “Before hackers tried to sway the 2016 election or word spread that our new president might be compromised, a peculiar couple resided on Seattle’s Capitol Hill. Have we really taken stock of the spies who lived among us?” http://bit.ly/2j0CxC9

— “General David Petraeus: How The Best Leaders Inspire And Confront Failure” – Q&A by Zack Friedman in Forbes: http://bit.ly/2lNCLgH … Bloomberg Businessweek Q&A https://bloom.bg/2hbUGw6

— “Inside Trump’s Cruel Campaign Against the U.S.D.A.’s Scientists,” by Michael Lewis in the Nov. issue of Vanity Fair: “The folks at the Department of Agriculture laid on a friendly welcome for the Trump transition team, but they soon discovered that most of his appointees were stunningly unqualified. With key U.S.D.A. programs—from food stamps to meat inspection, to grants and loans for rural development, to school lunches—under siege, the agency’s greatest problem is that even the people it helps most don’t know what it does.” With a shout-out to Politico’s Jenny Hopkinson http://bit.ly/2iZ5azs

— “Weaken From Within,” by Hannes Grassegger and Mikael Krogerus on the cover of TNR: “Moscow has been honing an information age art of war—through fake news, disinformation, leaks, and trolling—for more than a decade. How can free societies protect themselves?” http://bit.ly/2ytaphS

DANIEL MITROVICH, author of a new book “Forever at the Finish Line,” with a foreword by former President Bill Clinton, tells the story of getting a life-size statue of New York Marathon founder Fred Lebow in Central Park. It would end up taking an army of politicos, including former President George H.W. Bush, VP Joe Biden, New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo, former Sens. Alan K. Simpson (R-Wyo.) and Al D’Amato (R-N.Y.), former New York City Mayor Rudy Giuliani, and 13 members of Congress. Mitrovich is running the Marathon today. Good luck to him and all the runners! $13.68 on Amazon http://amzn.to/2Ak54Xz

OUT AND ABOUT — Betsy Fischer Martin and Jonathan Martin, Hilary Rosen and Megan Murphy, Kelley and Brian McCormick, former Rep. Ellen Tauscher (D-Calif.) and Jeremy and Robyn Bash hosted a surprise birthday party last night for Tammy Haddad at Jose Andres’ restaurant FISH at the MGM National Harbor. 13 courses were served. Guests wore black and white wigs to surprise Tammy and the evening concluded with Jeremy Bash leading the crowd with his guitar singing “Country Road,” “Sweet Tammy” (a version of “Sweet Caroline”), and “Leaving on a Jet Plane.” JMart and others also took the mic to sing. PICS — Jeremy on the guitar and JMart, Patrick Steel and Lee Satterfield, Hilary Rosen, Heather Podesta and Tammy all singing http://bit.ly/2zg93UO … JMart with the mic http://bit.ly/2AlgpGv … Tammy about to blow out her cake http://bit.ly/2j2AhtS

SPOTTED: Greta Van Susteren and John Coale, Capricia and Rob Marshall, Carol Melton, Dan Meyers, Heather Podesta and Steve Kessler, Jim Popkin, Kevin Cirilli, Lee Satterfield and Patrick Steel, Marc Adelman, Polson Kanneth, Robin Goldman, Niki Christoff, Mike Allen, Ryan Williams, Kellie Meyer, Alice Lloyd, Jacqui and Keith Bloom, Kevin Letek.

SPOTTED at Taylor Lorenz’s going-away party at Satellite Room last night to toast her move to SF as the Daily Beast’s new tech reporter: Nikki Schwab, Neil Grace, Betsy Woodruff and Jonathan Swan, Sara Pearl Kenigsberg, Greg Overzat, Keturah Hetrick and Patrick Tucker, Asawin Suebsaeng, Lachlan Markay.

WEEKEND WEDDINGS — “David Chalian, Justin Bernstine” — N.Y. Times: “Mr. Chalian, 44, is a vice president of CNN in Washington, where he serves as political director, overseeing all the political coverage across all of CNN’s platforms. He graduated from Northwestern. … Dr. Bernstine, 39, is the assistant dean for undergraduate academic services in the School of Communication at American University in Washington. He graduated from Brown and received a doctoral in higher education administration from George Washington University. … The couple met online in October 2013.” With pic http://nyti.ms/2zzb1mi

— Sarah Kaplan and Joe Feinmann were married Saturday at sunset at Houston’s McGovern Centennial Gardens. Kaplan, who is from Houston, is staff director for the House Democratic Caucus’s Future Forum. Feinmann, from Scotland, works for PricewaterhouseCoopers. The traditional Jewish nuptials were officiated by Rabbi Steve Gross under a Chuppah made of the bride’s mother’s wedding gown and witnessed by family and friends. Pic http://bit.ly/2yxD6dD SPOTTED: Reps. Gene Green (D-Texas) and Eric Swalwell (D-Calif.); and Danielle Aviles Krueger, Cait McNamee, and Carly Reed.

— “Katey McCutcheon, Ryan Black” — Times: “The couple met at West Virginia University, from which they graduated. Mrs. Black, 25, is a deputy press secretary in Washington for Senator Joe Manchin III, Democrat of West Virginia. … Mr. Black, 26, is a deputy sheriff at the Arlington County Sheriff’s Office.” With pic http://nyti.ms/2zeBC7r

— Zach Butterworth, former legislative director to former Sen. Mary Landrieu (D-La.) who now works for New Orleans Mayor Mitch Landrieu, married Ariel Roland, Saturday night in St. Francisville, Louisiana. SPOTTED: Mary Landrieu, Mitch Landrieu and Rep. Cedric Richmond (D-La.).

BIRTHDAYS: John Harwood … NBC News D.C. bureau chief Ken Strickland … Valerie Biden Owens, E.V.P. at Joe Slade White and Co. … Politico’s Katy O’Donnell, who was surprised on Friday night with Neapolitan pizza, close friends and family (hat tip: Alyson Chwatek) … Nolan McCaskill … Benjamin Wittes, senior fellow at Brookings and editor-in-chief of Lawfare blog … Jason Calabretta, associate producer at “NBC Nightly News” … Autumn VandeHei (h/ts Jim VandeHei and Lisa Barclay) … Moira Whelan, partner at BlueDot Strategies (h/t Ben Chang) … Casey Smith, deputy director of the office of protocol and special events at USAID … HFA alum Heather Stone … Steve Pfister … Annie Kelly Kuhle, SVP at FP1 Strategies and Jeb alum (h/t Ryan Williams) … Stephen Rubright … WaPo senior correspondent Kevin Sullivan … New Hampshire Gov. Chris Sununu is 43 (h/t Ed Cash) … Tom Guthrie … Lori Sanders … Richard Parker … Trudy Vincent (h/t Jon Haber) … Keith Castaldo, general counsel to Sen. Gillibrand …

… Rep. Frederica Wilson (D-Fla.) is 75 … Camille von Kaenel … Jeremy Ravinsky … Curtis Skinner … Austin Butler … Zack Marshall … Kristin Bodenstedt … John Procter, EVP at Signal Group, is 38 (h/t Eric Bovim) … former Rep. Ben Quayle (R-Ariz.) … former Rep. Bob Barr (R-Ga.) … Corey Jones … Steve Caldeira … Chris Mewett … Susan Arbetter … Ryan Mewett … Malik Haughton … Ted Kulongoski … Joseph Perman … Kate Throneburg … Meryl Holt of the NYC Law Department … Jessica Harris … Ben Polk … Kim Griffin … Sheri Sweitzer … Jackie Boynton … Rick Leach … Karen Mulhauser … Janice Griffin … Craig Kirby … Evie deFrees (h/ts Teresa Vilmain)

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