#maybe I’ll just leave it open for any show ive drawn before

[ashdash2417]

What if.... what if I opened up palette meme requests? Would anyone oppose? 😶

[seita]

— haikyuu squirting.

includes: oikawa, iwaizumi, matsukawa, hanamaki, kunimi, + kyoutani.

p a r t o n e ;;

⤿ next: t w o

-ˋˏ aoba johsai ˎˊ-

— tooru oikawa.

≻ he has a goal to make you squirt ≻ he thinks it’s super hot and wants you to do it ≻ he honestly will experiment with it every time you have sex ≻ you won’t notice anything different ≻ but one day, he hits this spot inside you ≻ and you just explode and he’s elated ≻ and you’re like ??? ≻ he’s just like “ive been trying to make you do that for a week!!!” ≻ and then he continues on because he wants to bask in the fruits of his labors and make you squirt until you cry~

+

“c’mon baby,” he groans, working his fingers into your spasming cunt. you’re so tight, squeezing him like craze because you’re so close. and he knows your body’s signals like the back of his hand.

“fuck, tooru!” you sob, gripping his wrist with both hands as his fingers fuck your tender g-spot. his jaw as clenched as he watches you. he’s waiting, he can taste it on the tip of his tongue.

your whole body is tense and you’re trembling. your orgasm is so close, it’s dangling right over your head. the coil is taut and it’s growing painful. he continues to fuck his fingers into that sweet little spot that has you sobbing.

you look so beautiful like this, brows drawn together and mouth hanging open as your mind tries to comprehend the overwhelming pleasure he’s bringing you to. he finally brings his thumb to your clit, circling the bud in a few, slow strokes that finally send you flying over the edge.

you scream, thrashing against the bed as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. he nearly cums in his pants when you gush, your cum spraying all over him. he licks his lips, tasting your stray cum on his tongue as he does so. it makes his eyes roll back in his head.

and it isn’t long before you’re forcing his hand away from you, leaving you a trembling, panting mess on his bed.

“what...the fuck, tooru?” you gasp. he only grins in response.

— hajime iwaizumi.

≻ you’ll most likely be the one to bring it up to him ≻ he doesn’t actually quite know much about squirting ≻ he knows that it’s a thing ≻ but he doesn’t think it’s like...doable in real life ≻ he’s just like “oh yeah lmao that just exists in porn” ≻ so when you’re like can u do this-- ≻ he’s like huh? ≻ but he’s 4000% down and will give it his best shot ≻ it’ll take some trial and error ≻ because he has to learn the proper mechanics and angles to make it happen ≻ but when it does, he’s immediately addicted

+

you’re riding him, relishing in his praise as he caresses your pretty body.

“show me how you need it, pretty girl,” he whispers, “you’re gonna make a mess for me tonight, aren’t you?”

you desperately nod, nails digging into his forearms as you bounce. he groans, feeling you drip down his balls. he’s sure there’s a mess beneath him but he can’t be bothered to worry about it now because you’re clenching desperately around him.

“right there, daddy!” you cry, “right there, please! you’re go-gonna make me cum!”

he growls and flips you over, pinning your knees to your chest as he desperately fucks your cunt. you’re creaming so prettily around him that it’s driving him insane.

“play with your clit for me, princess,” he orders, following your hand as you find the bud and eagerly begin circling it.

he angles his thrusts for your g-spot, knowing that’ll be what sends you over. and it works like a charm. soon enough, you’re arching as you find release.

he doesn’t stop like he usually does, he replaces his fingers on your clit and continues to fuck into your spasming little cunt. just like he wanted, you begin gushing. you squirm, unable to escape his hold as he continues to fuck you until you’re made a complete mess for him.

— issei matsukawa.

≻ it’s completely accidental ≻ his dick is honestly just too fucking big ≻ that when you cum it’s explosive ≻ you always cum super hard for him when you’re stuffed full of his cock ≻ he honestly ADORES that you have such a fierce reaction to him ≻ it boosts his ego ≻ especially if you praise him while he makes you gush everywhere~

+

“you’re making such a slutty face,” he grins, watching as you arch your hips for more. he’s fucking you so well and it makes you lose your mind.

“i’m getting close,” you warn, making him arch a brow.

“i’ve only just started,” he teases, enjoying the look of humiliation that crosses your face at his words, “tell me you’re a whore for my cock and maybe i’ll let you cum.”

you break immediately, “i’m a whore for your cock, issei!” you cry, making him grin, “please, please only you can make me feel like this. only you can make me cum like this!”

“what a good little bitch i have,” he chuckles, speeding up his pace.

you can’t even take all of his cock but you continue to work your hips as if you could if you try hard enough. your eyes roll back in your head and you plead with him in babbled whimpers that absolutely drive him wild. he knows you’re dangling on the edge but you’re holding back because you’re his good girl. and he’s so proud of you so he decides to reward you.

“go on then, pretty girl,” he groans, “cream on my cock like a good little girl.”

except when you cum, it’s not like any of your previous orgasms. it’s wetter. and the more he fucks you, the wetter it gets until you’re absolutely gushing around him. after a few seconds, you push him away. when his cock pops out of your cunt, and you immediately squeal as you squirt all over him.

you’re still trembling by the time he works his cock back into your cunt. he grins, “did that feel good, pretty girl?” to which you nod, “good because you’re going to do that again and again until i’m satisfied.”

— takahiro hanamaki.

≻ he knows what it is and how to do it ≻ but he never actually executes it ≻ mostly because of the mess ≻ he’s not a huge fan of messes ≻ but if it’s something you want him to do ≻ it needs to be discusses before your um...session ≻ so that way he can put a towel down to minimize the mess ≻ he’s always pleased with the way you tremble and react so beautifully. ≻ he still doesn’t do it too often tho

+

the towel was growing wetter the longer he fucked you with his fingers. his spit, lube, and your own natural arousal only serving to make a complete mess. he was going slow, it was an agonizing place. switching between forceful thrusts against your g-spot and simply grinding the tips of his two fingers against it; it was only serving to drive you mad.

tears had long since started falling down your cheeks. he thought you looked prettiest like that; eyes red and pitiful little sniffles coming from you as you cried for more.

he knew what you wanted, what you needed. but he was content with torturing you. you were so cute when you were distraught and he couldn’t help but send you a boyish smile that made your face crumple in frustration. it was so easy to rile you up.

“want me to make you ucm now, sweet girl?” he coos, pulling his fingers from your cunt to playfully smack your neglected clit.

your thighs jump at the stimulation before nodding desperately. it didn’t take long for the desperate pleas that he had been waiting for to begin falling from your lips, “please daddy, please. i’ll do anything just please make me cum!”

he grins, “such pretty words,” he coos, nodding his head, “anything?”

“anything daddy please!” you cry and he groans in response.

“then make a mess for me, baby,” he orders, finally fucking your tight cunt the way you need to fall over the edge.

and you do so beautifully, gushing and squirting all over him. he groans at the sight of finally getting what he wanted. you tremble and sob just for him and he never wants to forget the sight of you falling apart perfectly for him all because of his fingers.

— kentaro kyoutani.

≻ he actually brings it up to you!!! ≻ but he knows that it’s a thing ≻ he just doesn’t know if it’s something you want to experiment with or not ≻ and he’s not willing to just do it and surprise you ≻ when you agree ≻ he goes feral ≻ he absolutely loves making a complete mess out of you ≻ he already does it well enough on his own ≻ but NOW there’s an actual...mess to clean up.

+

your face is buried in the pillow, muffling your sobs and cries of pleasure. his hand is pressed on the small of your back, making sure you’re presented just right for him.

he’s quiet as usual, short grunts and the occasional filth falling from his lips so perfectly, “so tight, you’re dripping.”

“only for you,” you promise breathlessly, making him grin. if you had seen it, you’d see the sadistic pleasure in it.

“that’s right, babygirl,” he groans when you clench around his cock at the sound of the petname.

you were so easy to read and so easy to satisfy. it drove him crazy. leaning over your body, he fisted your hair to keep you pinned as he began to piston into your pretty cunt, tearing cries of untold pleasure into the pillow.

he’s able to make out the warning for your impending orgasm and reaches beneath your body to find your clit. he slaps his fingers harshly against the bud. it’s the final action that sends you over the edge.

your body lurches forward, forcing his cock from your clamping cunt. he groans when he looks down to see you squirting everywhere. he rubs across your clit quickly, splattering your cum everywhere until you’re sobbing for him to stop.

“you’re such a sloppy little bitch,” he growls, forcing his cock back into your sensitive cunt.

— akira kunimi.

≻ another one who doesn’t try ≻ but it’s mostly out of laziness ≻ if you squirt, it’s gonna be 99% you 1% him ≻ he digs it tho ≻ he’ll make sure you know that he finds it really hot that you got yourself so worked up over his cock that you couldn’t help but make a mess!!

+

you’re bracing yourself on his shoulders as he holds your hips tightly. soft moans and cries of his name escape your lips as you ride him, his cock filling you up so perfectly while he doesn’t do anything. he lets you do as you please, merely helping you keep your balance along with occasionally cupping your pretty tits that bounce perfectly in his face.

“i’m gonna cum,” you gasp suddenly, shoving a hand between your thighs to circle your clit.

he nods, a lazy smile crossing his face, “yeah, baby, play with that pretty clit and cum for me.”

you whine, your head falling back as you sob through your pleasure. it comes in waves, making you tremble and cling to him as your high washes over you.

he curses, suddenly pounding into you from beneath you. you squeal, clawing at his shoulders as you gush around him, making a complete mess over his cock and abdomen.

he laughs as he falls limp, staring at the dripping cum you left all over him, “is my cock that good that you just make a huge fuckin’ mess? hm? i didn’t even have to do anything,” suddenly, he slaps your thigh, “keep riding me, want you to do that again.”

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.

[daechwitatamic]

Say the Right Thing || KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Complete Faith

POV Drabble #1: Say the Right Thing

@kookstempo - here's the break-up from Tae's point of view! I hope you like it!!!! I'm also going to do Tae post-break-up since that's technically more what you asked for lol and the recital too :)

WC: 1,400

Rating/Warnings: strong language only, angst

The worst days of Taehyung's life have all revolved around his mother.

Now, don’t misunderstand. He loves his mother. She’s strong, with a big heart. It isn’t her fault.

It isn’t her fault that her brain declared its own neurological pathways Enemy #1. It’s not her fault that her brain decided that eating holes in itself was the best line of defense.

It isn’t her fault. But it’s still true. The worst days of his life have all been caused by his mother’s MS.

It’s better now than it was when he was a kid. He has more control over the situation, a little more agency. He gets to be involved in the helping; when he was small, he helped by staying out of the way.

This attack is bad. He can tell from day one. It’s been years since she’s had her whole side go numb, years since he's had to help her wash her hair in the kitchen sink, years since he's had to sit by her side at the hospital while the IV steroids run.

It seems like it’s going that way again.

He's exhausted.

She’s exhausted.

His dad is exhausted.

And his girlfriend decided that now would be a great time to reconcile with her ex. Because he definitely has the brainpower and emotional energy to wade through that bullshit.

You two have barely talked the whole week, and he knows that’s mostly on him. He knows you're waiting for an answer, he knows you're connecting the dots from your emotionally unavailable ex to him. He knows you're jumping to conclusions. 

He just doesn't have the energy to engage. You don't know he spent the day listening to his mother cry through the pain. You don't know he's been wrung out to empty worrying if this will be the time that his mother doesn’t get feeling back when the attack passes, if this will be the attack that leaves her blind or unable to walk without aid. 

You don't know. And that’s not your fault, either. Because he didn’t tell you any of it.

Which is why you're here, staring at him across his small balcony, your face drawn and her eyes tight. 

“I know it’s been shitty for both of us since last week,” he tells you, and you nod silently. He's hoping you'll say something like, yes, missing you this week was hard, or maybe even ask him how it was hard for him - give him the opening to share what’s been happening. 

You say nothing, so Taehyung presses forward. He feels like he's trying to tell you what he needs - ask me, ask me what’s been going on, I’ll tell you if you just ask - 

“I know I wasn’t… extremely forthcoming about what was happening at my parents’ house,” he says. He pauses. Still nothing. Fine then. Time to address the bigger issue: your little excursion with your ex. “But I feel like you took that kind of personally and… acted out.”

He waits, silent, not sure if you'll deny this, or argue, maybe even shout at him.

You lick your lips, eyes flicking to your feet and then back to Taehyung. You look almost… ashamed. 

Finally, you say, “It’s felt like this for me: it’s like your active life is this box, right?” You make a box in the air in front of you. Your face is calm, your voice even. You're working just as hard as he is to do this rationally, to keep calm and logical. “And you picked me up and placed me to the side of the box, and you wanted me to just wait there until you were ready for me again.” You falter then, hunting for words, and Taehyung's stomach twists with a jolt of anger. He knows where this is going to go. “It just… I don’t… Tae, I’ve done that before, remember? I can’t do it again.”

He does remember. And that is not what happened here. He didn’t check out on you for weeks at a time, he didn’t string you along for months while barely giving a shit, he didn’t show up and give a half-assed effort to win you back every time you tried to stick up for yourself. Yet here you are, punishing him for someone else's sins.

“This is not the same as what happened with Ben,” he tells you, leaning forward to peer at your face, to see if you're understanding him. You press your lips together tightly and drop your gaze. That spark of anger flares in the pit of his stomach again. “I knew that’s what was going on with you! Do you not see how this is different? You knew what was happening with me. You knew it was going to be kind of different and you couldn’t just hang on for a literal week, Y/N-.”

He knows he's ranting, he can hear the edge in his voice, but he can’t stop. This is literally the most unfair thing that’s ever happened to him-

“Did I, though?” you interject. “Did I know it was a week because of whatever was going on that you wouldn’t talk to me about, or did I just have to take that on faith? Aren’t you the one who gave me shit for staying in relationships where I’m being ignored?”

Taehyung sits up. Did you… not believe him? This whole week, as he'd been taking care of his mother - cooking meals, cleaning up, listening to her cry in pain, spending hours on hold with her neuro - had his girlfriend been doubting the reason for his absence? 

“So, was that the problem?” he asks, voice low. He feels like he's starting to see this whole situation very differently. “You didn’t believe me that things were only a little off because of my mom? You didn’t trust me that we’d be right back to normal once my dad got back?”

You didn’t trust him? You didn’t think he'd come back, that things would be normal again? 

“I didn’t know what to think,” you say slowly. “You weren’t answering my texts or calls… it just felt so familiar…”

What had he ever done to make you doubt him?

But he knows the answer. It isn’t about him at all.

Again: unfair.

When he's able to speak, when he's able to say something that isn’t cruel for the sake of cruelty, he tells you, “If at this point you legitimately don’t trust me… then what are you even doing? Why are you even here?” 

It’s a challenge, but it’s a question, too. He really wants to know. Do you even have an answer? You just stare at him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. 

Say the right thing, he wants to beg her - the girl he's loved silently for at least a year now. Tell me you’re sorry, tell me you trust me, tell me it was a mistake to doubt me. 

You do the fucking opposite. Your brows furrow, mouth twists, and you sneer, “Right on schedule, right, Taehyung? Did we make it a whole seven weeks?”

It would’ve hurt less if you'd slapped him. He'd told you once that he thought he was broken, and you're throwing it in his face. You'd picked him up, turned him over, eyed all his cracks and mars, and tossed him back on the shelf. 

He points a finger at you, anger flaring beyond the point of being tempered. “Don’t you fucking dare. I’m in this. You’re the one who’s been holding back, you’re the one acting like you can slow it down if you dig your heels in hard enough.”

“That isn’t true,” you say, shaking your head, your hair swinging. 

But it is. You both know it.

“Then ask yourself –.” He pauses, redirects - “No, fuck that, I am asking you: do you think we can make it?” You watch her, eyes hard. “If your answer isn’t immediately, unequivocally yes, then you might as well just leave.”

He wills himself to feel nothing when you stand up, as you cross his apartment, as you closes the front door behind yourself with a definitive bang. 

He drops his head into his hands. Beside him, forgotten, his phone rings with an incoming call.

Mom.

Thank you for reading!

[thelmworkspace]

Feeling Better– Seungcheol x Reader

Hi, all! Thank you for all the love on the Woozi fic I posted a few weeks back. I wanted to introduce myself briefly! My name’s Lily (she/her) and I love to self-indulge with writing sometimes. Here is some Seungcheol comfort and the rest of the boys being cuties for everyone :) Let me know if you have any ideas you’d like to see!

Warnings: being sick, alluding very vaguely to throwing up 

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

Ever the confident, sure of himself, optimistic, and resourceful, Seungcheol projected himself as calm and collected to his members, his coworkers, and to you. It was one of the things that had initially drawn you to him. He was a constant steadying force in your life, even when he was feeling anxious and overwhelmed himself. As a leader, he always tried to keep his worries to himself in order to take care of the other guys. They almost never saw him shook up, although there were some exceptions, especially when it came to you.

It was a Monday and the guys had come in early to run some choreography. Seungcheol had noticed you’d been a bit off over the weekend, not your normal self. You had said you felt a little under the weather, but nothing too bad. When Monday morning rolled around, however, Cheol could tell something was wrong. “Babe,” he nudged your knee slightly under your shared covers while you looked over emails on your phone, “are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to see if I can stay home?” 

“No, no, I’m fine it’s just a stomach ache,” you grimaced a bit, pausing in typing out an email response to a coworker. Seungcheol sighed, placing a hand on your head and smoothing down you hair, unconvinced. “Okay, stay in bed for a bit,” he mumbled, reluctantly leaving your bed to get ready for practice. A few minutes later he walked back into your bedroom, a glass of water for you in hand. You hadn’t moved much from the position he left you in, but your hands were pressed into your brow and your head was bent downward. Hearing him walk in, you looked up and met his gaze. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the hospital? You know I don’t mind being late,” he raised his eyebrows at you, moving to set the water on your bedside table. “I’m fine I just didn’t sleep well,” you said, quickly adding, “I have work to do, shoo” and reaching out to push him towards the door playfully. He holds onto your outstretched hand, though. “Try to eat something and call me if you need anything,” he says, pressing a kiss to your hair before heading out for the day.

A couple hours later, Seungcheol and the other guys were still running choreography, all the details taking a little longer than expected. A secretary popped their head into the room, looking around for Seungcheol. When he meets his eyes Cheol makes his way across the room to him, a little confused at the interruption. “Sorry to interrupt, I have a ‘Y/N’ in the lobby for Seungcheol?” the man asks, keeping his voice low. Despite the effort, all the member’s heads snap to the door– you never make such a formal entrance. Dokyeom almost starts to laugh before seeing all of the color drain out of Cheol’s face and his back stiffen. His mind jumped immediately trying to work through why you didn’t just call, if you were okay, feeling guilty for not insisting he stayed home with you. He knew you wouldn’t just show up unannounced unless something was really wrong. All twelve of the other men felt his shift in mood, but Jeonghan spoke first, reaching out to grab his elbow, “is everything okay?” Cheol’s eyes shifted to Jeonghan’s, noticeably panicked, “she was sick this morning but seemed okay when I left, I don’t know if-” 

“I’m sure she’s okay, hyung,” Wonwoo interrupted him, noticing Cheol’s volume raise as he kept talking. He turned back to the secretary, still waiting in the doorway and looking incredibly unsure of what to do, “Could you bring her up, please?” he asked before walking over to Cheol’s stuff and grabbing his water bottle for him. A hush had fallen over the room– the guys didn’t have much experience comforting a shook-up Seungcheol. “Hyung, she was sick?” Dokyeom asked, “I’m sure she just doesn’t feel good and missed you!” he laughed slightly, trying to raise the mood. The guys nodded, agreeing and throwing “don’t worries” his way as they went to grab their phones or water, gladly accepting the impromptu break. 

A knock on the door signaled your arrival a few moments later, the secretary opening the door for you and quickly retreating as you thanked him quietly. “Y/N-ah” Seungkwan called out quietly in greeting, earning a glare from Jeonghan. Seungcheol took a couple big, rushed steps towards you. You were in the comfiest sweatpants and hoodie you could find, the hood pushed up over your unbrushed hair and makeup-less face, and just your phone and keys in your front pocket. Cheol’s left hand found your shoulder, his right pushing the hood off of you and cradling the back of your head. You give him a futile smile, knowing before you even started shifting your face that it won’t convince him. “Hey, are you okay? What’s wrong?” he whispered, lowering his head slightly to meet your tired eyes. You looked down, avoiding his eyes out of embarrassment for interrupting his and all the other guys’ work . “I’m sorry,” you started, feeling Cheol automatically tighten his grip on you, “I feel awful and I haven’t been keeping anything down and I’m afraid I’m gonna get dehydrated. I wasn’t sure I should go to the hospital so I thought maybe I could see one of the medics here?” Cheol had brought you to one of them once before when you’d twisted your ankle badly in a pair of heels. He could see how uncomfortable you were, heart breaking a bit knowing you felt so crappy. He pulled you into his chest, hand still holding the back of your head protectively. “Why didn’t you call?” he mumbled, “You know you can always call.” 

“I know,” you said into his chest, “but I thought you would be in a meeting by now and I figured having you excuse yourself for a minute would be more professional than having your phone go off.” Despite his nerves still calming down from the panic he felt a few minutes ago, he let out a broken laugh. “You’re so funny, you think too much.”

As he lets you out of his embrace, Jeonghan extends a water bottle to your side, “here you go, Y/N- ah.” You smile up at him, feeling tears well up in your eyes involuntarily. Both men notice, Seungcheol concerned and Jeonghan smiling at your sudden emotion, “are you okay?” 

“I’m sorry, I’m so tired and I really don’t feel good. I cry easily when I’m sick,” you sniffle, trying to push your tears back and letting out a choked giggle. Seungkwan and Dokyeom let out audible “aww’s” at you from across the room, making you laugh a little more. “Okay, you, let’s get you to the medic,” Seungcheol wraps a protective hand around your waist and steers you out of the room. “I’ll be back,” he says, followed by your rushed “I’m so sorry, guys” before you’re ushered into the hallway. 

Fifteen or so minutes later, you try your best to sneak back into the practice room, Seungcheol holding your hand behind your back and following you in. You stand against the edge of the room for a minute before he lead you towards his bag on the other side of the room, letting you sit down next to his stuff and handing you your half empty water bottle. The guys were all focused on going over a particularly intricate hand movement, but stop when Cheol walks over to join them, looking at him expectantly for an update. “They gave her an IV for hydration. She’s gonna hang out until we’re done and then I’m taking her home.” The guys’ eyes shift to you, your back leaned up against the mirrored wall and head tucked far into your hoodie. “I’m sorry!” you say to the room, a whine in your voice to indicate that you feel horrible about your interruption. They shush you, Seungkwan rolling his eyes playfully, “as if we don’t love having you here no matter what, Y/N.” You smile up at them from the floor, eyes meeting Cheol’s and finally feeling a little better.

[alrightberries]

glimpse of me and you

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff. ❈ word count: 2.6k

❈ summary: It’s your first day out of the Underground District and on the surface. Levi helps you get settled.

❈ trigger warnings: profanity.

a/n: i would like to confess that i was in A Mood.

mini sequel: truly, madly, deeply

i. morning

The first thing you noticed was that it was bright. Too bright.

Not the kind of brightness you saw in the warm glowing lamps that littered the Underground District, but the kind that made your eyes squint and feel sore- like they were going to pop out of your head any time soon. Your hand slips out of Levi’s to block out the light hurting your irises.

He stops walking up the staircase and turns to look at you.

“Here.” He murmurs. He places down the boxes he was holding and takes off his green Survey Corps cape, draping it around your shoulders and clasping it at the front before drawing the hood over your face. The sunlight is no longer as harsh.

“Better?” He asks, and you nod.

“Much. Thank you, Levi.”

He hums in acknowledgement, one hand picking up the boxes with your luggage and the other one slipping through yours to slowly lead you up the staircase once more. He could tell from how you squeezed his hand and kept taking deep breaths behind him that you were nervous. He couldn’t blame you, either. He remembers being the same with Isabel and Farlan two years ago.

Two years. That’s how long it’s been since he was captured and taken to the surface. Since last saw your face and heard his name slip from your lips.

It took the better part of two years to barely scrape up enough money to buy you citizenship, but as he leads you through the stairway with your warm hand in his, he knows he wouldn’t hesitate do it all again.

For you.

“It’s going to be brighter once we reach the surface.” He says. The last step of the stairway was nearing. “I know you won’t, but close your eyes if you have to. You might get disoriented if you don’t.”

True to his words, you did end up getting disoriented because you refused to close your eyes. But really now, how could you? 26 years you’ve waited for this day to come. And you would be damned if you didn’t take everything in the second you set foot above ground for the first time.

As you reached the surface, Levi notices you flinching, turning your head away from the light and gritting your teeth once you set foot on the cobble stoned streets above. Despite your clear discomfort at the brightness, you made no move to close your eyes. In fact, you even braved to let them roam around.

“Stubborn dumbass.” He scolds quietly.

He leads you a little ways off from the exit of the stairway to put your stuff in the small wagon in front of you. The small wagon was drawn by a gorgeous black horse, and you realize that this was probably the beloved mare Levi spoke of in his letters.

“Is this Estreya?” You ask. Levi hums in agreement and takes the last box you were holding to place it with the rest of your luggage with a low grunt.

When he looks back at you he notices your eyes are still squinted, but your teeth were no longer gritted. The hood was still drawn over your face and one of your hands was still shielding your eyes from the burning light. You weren’t even going to lie, you were half terrified that your eyes were going to melt from how hot the sun was.

“Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

You scoff. “Yeah, because horses are really common in the Underground.”

He doesn’t reply to your quip. Though the way his eyebrows relax and his lips twitch up in the slightest doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Ride the wagon. You’ll fall on your ass if you try to go on horseback.”

“If you say so, Captain Levi.” 

It was now his turn to grit his teeth. He knew he shouldn’t have told you about his promotion.

“Tch, just get on. Or I’ll leave you stranded in Wall Sina.”

ii. noon

The wagon ride to Wall Rose was something you could only describe as ethereal.

You hadn’t the faintest idea the sky was so big and blue, and how fluffy the clouds seemed to be. The sky seemed to stretch for miles and miles, and knowing that there wasn’t a ceiling above you almost made you want to cry.

Wall Sina was beautiful, as well. Especially the market. The market you passed by almost made you want to stop the wagon and drag Levi from stall to stall to see what they had. They housed probably the most vibrant colored fruits and vegetables you’ve ever seen, and the smell of freshly baked bread made your mouth water. Not to mention, the air didn’t smell like moisture or piss or shit. 

“Don’t get any ideas.” He says, noticing your longing stare at the colorful tents. “You look like you’re about to jump off the wagon.”

“Will you leave me stranded if I do?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

Undoubtedly, though, your favorite view from the ride would be what Levi called “the suburbs.”

The tallness of the trees. The freshness of the air. The sounds of ruffling leaves. Birds and critters running around the ground and flying through the sky. The beautiful greens and blues were the biggest contrast to the drab grays and blacks you typically saw in the Underground District, and now you understood why Levi was so hellbent on taking you to the surface and never looking back.

“We’re almost there.” You hear him call out from in front of you.

Your eyes stop wandering around what Levi called a “valley”. You look past his figure sitting on the horse, spotting a castle made of bricks. It looked small from this distance but the closer you got, the more you realized that distance could be deceiving.

“Is that the Survey Corps’ base?” 

“No, it’s a fucking circus.” He replies sarcastically.

“What’s a circus?”

“It’s— nevermind.”

iii. afternoon

When you got to Levi’s private quarters, you didn’t hesitate to ask for a spare towel so you could take a shower.

You didn’t even bother kissing him or unpacking your things or… making up for lost time, if you will. Instead you made a beeline for the private bathroom connected to his bedroom and spent a good hour inside, talking to him through the door about how you’ve been looking forward to taking a proper shower all week. Levi had to drag you out and stop you from wasting more of the Survey Corps’ water reservoir.

“So, let me get this straight.” You mutter. 

You were sitting on his bed and he was sitting on a chair across from you. Your hair was still damp and your upper half was clad in a spare Survey Corps button down, while your bottom half was clad in nothing but your underwear.

Levi had complained that your clothes from the Underground were too dirty and would have to be washed. You called him rude, only relenting when he offered to do your laundry. But he wasn’t about to complain about the extra chores when it gave him this view.

“You’ve been captain for an entire year and only bothered to tell last week?”

“Yes.” Came his stoic reply.

“But why?!”

“I’m not hearing the end of this any time soon, am I?”

Before you could respond, Levi hears loud banging from his office door (which you noticed was connected to his bedroom) and he sighs as he wordlessly covers your bare legs with a blanket. Confused eyes met his, and all he could do was shrug as he heard the office door breakdown. The loud banging was now being directed at the bedroom door, the only thing separating you from what you assumed was some rabid raccoon.

“Levi motherfucking Ackerman!” You hear someone shriek from the other side of the wood. Okay, so maybe it’s not a rabid raccoon. “Open this door right this instant!”

You hear the lock clicking and the knob turning rapidly. Despite knowing you should probably be scared, you can’t help but smile at Levi’s clear irritation. It wasn’t the genuine kind of irritation. It was the kind he showed to Isabel— the one where he pretends to be annoyed but secretly enjoys their company.

“It’s not locked, four-eyes.” He replies.

Ah, so this must be the Hange he’s been complaining about.

“Then why can’t I open it?!”

“It’s push, not pull.”

Immediately, the banging stops, and silence takes over the room. But the silence is short lived when Hange suddenly kicks the door open and you jump from surprise. 

“Don’t think that I wouldn’t find out about you bringing a civilian to the base, Ackerman!” Hange points an accusing finger at Levi’s bored face. 

“I’d be more surprised if you didn’t. Considering I asked you to sign the authorization letter.”

The soldier ignores Levi’s quip and quickly makes their way over to you, sitting down next to your side and extending a hand.

“The name’s Hange Zoe, Section Commander of the Survey Corps. And you are?”

You warily accept their offer of a handshake. Your eyes briefly flit over to where Levi was still sat, relaxing a bit when he nods to your silent question of whether or not it was safe.

“Y/N.” You give them a polite smile. 

“When Moblit told me Levi brought a civilian to the base, I was ecstatic!” 

What the fuck is a Moblit? You wonder.

Your hands were still joined, and you weren’t sure if prolonged and drawn out handshakes were a custom of the surface. Not wanting to be rude, you continued to shake Hange’s hand, nodding along as they continued on.

“I didn’t peg shorty as the type to play boyfriend.”

“Neither did I.” You chuckled. “But he’s been more than wonderful. He’s more than I could ever ask for.”

Levi bites back the smile teasing his lips.

“Stop shaking Hange's hand. You’ll catch rabies or some shit.”

iv. evening

It was nearing six o’clock when Levi finally convinced Hange to go away, but only with the promise that he would introduce you to his squadron later at dinner. Normally he’d detest the idea of sharing intimate details about his personal life, but as he listens to you ask question after question about the surface, he deems the small sacrifice was more than worth this small moment with you.

“You said the surface was going to be hot. Why is it so cold now?” You ask, settling into the bed. Levi lifts up the blanket and begins to lie down beside you.

“Because it’s almost night.” He says simply. “It’s hot in the day and cold in the night.”

“Is it always like that?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “It depends on the season.”

He feels you shift closer to him, lifting his arm up and placing it around your waist as your head rests on his chest. He takes a deep breath, and the smell that was so uniquely you fills up his lungs. He almost hums in delight because it’s been two years; he hasn’t had this in two years, and no force on earth could ever take it away from him again.

“Season?” You murmur, sleepy eyes staring into his. 

Levi immediately knows that you’re a bedtime story away from snoozing, and he figures the fatigue is to be expected. You were, after all, being introduced to too many things at once. And judging by the bags under your eyes, you were probably too happy about going to the surface to get any sleep last night.

“Yeah. There are four seasons above ground: winter, summer, spring, and fall. Right now, it’s spring.”

“Will you tell me about the seasons?” 

He feels you shift, pressing a kiss against his cheek.

“You missed.”

You smile. A hand gently reaches out to grasp his chin, pulling his face towards yours to give him a gentle kiss. When you try to pull away, Levi pulls you back in.

“If you’re going to kiss me, do it properly.” He muses as your lips broke apart. The arm wrapped around your waist holds onto you a little tighter as you relax to his side once again, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. His thumb rubs small, gentle circles into your arm.

“The flowers bloom in spring. Everything blooms.” He explains. “In fall, the temperature gets colder so the leaves start changing colors.”

“What colors do they become?”

“Mostly brown or orange.”

You nod.

“In winter, that’s when things start getting really cold. Colder than the Underground. Snow starts falling and everything gets covered in it. It’s annoying.”

“But don’t you use winter as an excuse to... y’know, convince your bosses to spend more money on tea leaves?”

It was now his turn to nod, and you merely let out a chuckle. He feels your breath fanning against his neck and he doesn’t stop his head from lulling into yours. He really did miss having you in his arms.

“Figures.” You yawn. “You’re obsessed with that stuff.”

He feels a sleepy kiss press against his collarbones, and he places a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Get some sleep.” He murmurs. “I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

“But you haven’t told me about summer yet.”

A small smile makes its way to his lips, and Levi was thankful that you couldn’t see. He’d never hear the end of your teasing if you did.

“If I tell you, will you stop annoying me?”

“Possibly.”

“Okay.”

v. midnight

The first thing Levi notices is that it was dark. Too dark. 

A brief glimpse out his open window confirms his suspicions that it was, indeed, night time. He probably slept through dinner.

The second thing Levi notices is that his entire right side was numb and there was a heavy weight on his body, some of it crushing his arm. He hears your sleepy voice mumble his name in your sleep, and he relaxes once he remembers the events of today.

He kept his promise.

You had an entire future ahead of you, and Levi’s heart warms at the thought. Sure, you were a civilian who couldn’t stay in the Survey Corps base forever; and he should probably start helping you job hunt so you could both start saving up for a new house. He’d fight you tooth and nail if you tried to join the military though, and something tells him you probably wouldn’t listen.

But he kept his promise. And that’s all that mattered for now.

He hears you shift in his arms before taking a sharp inhale, and your eyes sleepily open. They glance around the room, trying to remember where you were, before landing on him. A small smile teases your lips, adoration blossoming in your heart at the man in front of you.

“What time is it?” You softly ask. One of your hands reaches out to rub your eyes before he feels a warm palm come to rest on his stomach.

“Late.” He replies. His free hand lands on your soft cheek, and he tilts your head down so he can kiss your forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

You only nod, too tired to argue. You break free from his grasp and Levi is momentarily disappointed when you turn the other way. But then your hand reaches out behind you to sling his arm over your waist, and he shifts closer when he realizes you wanted to spoon.

“So I don’t kill your arm.” You explain quietly.

Levi presses his chest to your back and his leg wraps around yours. His nose is buried into the crown of your hair and he couldn’t help but take a deep inhale and close his eyes. Your hand intertwines with the one slung around your waist, and he feels you lift up your conjoined hands to place a kiss to his knuckles.

“I love you, Levi.”

This time, Levi doesn’t bother to hide his smile. It wasn’t the first time you’ve said I love you, and it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. But it would never cease to amaze Levi how just three short words could turn his stoic and uninterested demeanor into one of smiles that reached his eyes. 

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“Marry me.”

mini sequel: truly, madly, deeply

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

If you want to be added to the tag list, click this link!

[cadykeus-clay]

remember a few days ago when i said i was writing a collection of mismatched scenes of all the times that I think jester and caleb should have just kissed on the mouth? hehe :)

I.

“Caleb, can you hear through it?” she’s yelling, head tilting and eyes squinting as she looks at the one-way glass he’s just apparated in the middle of the hall. She leans in, scrunching her nose and sticking out her tongue a little as she detectives. “Can we come into it?”

He grins, he can’t help himself. “Only you.”

“Do we just hit the side of it or -” 

Her fingertips press through the barrier, disrupting the near-transparent bubble with a ripple and he reaches out his hand for hers, guides her in. Her mouth makes the cutest little oh! shape as she passes through and she can see what he’s seeing. 

“Caleb. This is so COOL!”

The grin hasn’t dropped from her face, and it spreads infectiously across his. 

“I’ve been working on this for weeks,” he says, smacking his legs with triumphant fists. 

Her grin gets even wider, sharing in that joy. A few more silent moments pass, as she takes it in with awe. 

“So, can anyone come in, or like, only people you like, or … ?”

He thinks for a moment, grins slyly. He sticks a finger out, just barely missing her nose. “You can come in.”

She leans towards him, returning the affection he seems to be offering. She gets close to his face, on purpose. She likes making him blush. “That means you like me.”

Blush he does. It’d be near impossible not to - they’re alone and unseen together, and she’s leaning towards him, her grin pushing up the freckles on her cheeks he’d love to try and count. And he’s tired, exhausted, barely functional. He’s got no strength left to carry all the layers he usually hides himself behind, but it’s alright, it’s only Jester looking anyways. 

She hasn’t pulled her face back yet, like she’s waiting for him to do something. Tease. 

Even after everything they’ve both seen these past few days, fear seems gone for just a second. They’re safe inside their shell, and no one’s watching. It would be so easy to just lean down, steal a moment to remind her that he cares, remind her that he’ll always care, remind her that he did this to keep her safe, take her mind off why. 

It would be so easy ...

******

II. 

“Can we like. Stick things through the bubble?”

“Uh. Ja, you can put your weapons through it, but no magic can come in or out. But you can leave and come back any time you want.”

“Okay. Just checking.”

She tries to hide the wince in her face as she nods a bit too heartily, jostling the half-healed slash across her chest left from panther-like claws. He notices. She notices him noticing, notices the way his brow furrows even deeper. 

“But, please. No walkabouts when we are sleeping, okay?” 

He looks up at her through those drawn-together brows when he says it, pleading more than he really needs to. She learned that lesson. But it’s still sweet to see how much he cares. 

He’s been caring a lot lately, come to think of it. Chatting with her on the boat. Checking in. Making sexy jokes when they’re supposed to be stealthing. Doing a very bad job of hiding his attempts to make sure she laughed at it.

“I’ll stay right here. I promise.” She settles back onto her hands, hoping it’ll bring a little relief to the pain starting to spark across her ribs.

“Well. That’s good enough for me.”

And he pauses for a second, just a second, like he’s giving her an invitation to double down on that promise, make sure he knows she knows someone cares, and who someone is, and that someone else cares back.

It would be so easy … 

******

III.

When she was little and read a lot of fairy tales, she’d often think about kissing a beautiful boy in a beautiful room full of paintings and tapestries and a billion things on shelves that glittered just to be pretty, and the light would somehow be reflecting off all of them at once, and his shirt would be off for reasons, and it would be glorious.

The tunnel they're in can’t really constitute as a room, but the way the crystals shimmer even in the dim glow of the Dancing Lights, rippling all around them is arguably better than shiny decorations. Caleb certainly can constitute as a beautiful boy. After all, she’s just admitted he is neither stinky nor dirty anymore. And arm wraps aren’t quite the same as a shirt, but he has taken part of his clothes off in front of her. 

Creepy snails and the third day without daylight weren’t her romantic vision, sure. But. She feels safe here, with him, and she hopes he feels safe with her. She had meant what she had said, a few days back, when he spilled his fears and his history on the floor of their wagon. She didn’t think he was a bad person. And the way he looked at her when she said it, man, he wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe it so bad. 

She ought to let him know. She ought to tell him, again, that she believes in goodness in him. She believes in love in his heart. She ought to tell him right now, in this glittering cave with his heart and arms bare before her. She ought to tell him in a way where he can’t argue back ‘cause his face will be preoccupied. 

It would be so easy …

*******

IV. 

“YOU GUYS!”

She practically burst the door to their new ally’s house down with excitement when she got back, holding out the little striped carrying box in front of her like it’s the coolest loot they’ve ever found. She bounces on her toes, making it hard for anyone to get a real look at the confections inside. 

“What do you have?” he asks, knowing she wants to tell him.

“Cupcakes!” she beams back.

“A lot of them, or?”

She flips the lid up and pushes her nose nearly into the icing topping as she examines the haul. “Well I have thirteen here, so … one, two, three -” 

He almost says the numbers along with her. Counting things and making Jester smile are both muscle memory at this point.

“ - six, so good! That’s one for each of you and the rest for me!”

He looks in the box properly now, the counting having slowed her jitteriness enough for him to try and piece out flavors. There’s some dark ones that could be chocolate, but he doubts it, and some that are paler, dotted with blue. He reaches for a blueberry one, and takes a cautious bite. 

“Caleb,” she says, pouting, and he’s worried he wasn’t supposed to try one, “you are Missing. Out.” 

She sticks her face in towards him, to make sure he can get a good look at this reprimand. She’s got a little bit of icing stuck in the corner of her mouth. 

“You can get blueberry cupcakes anywhere.”

He keeps his eyes trained on her, longer than he really ought to, but he’s trying to figure it out. 

Is that a challenge, Lavorre? Is that a promise?

It would be so easy...

*******

V. 

She has to get up on her tip toes to reach the shelf where they keep the scribing paper, pulling the stack towards her so she can count out sheets. 

“About 300 gold?” 

“Mmm.”

She counts out the sheets, thumbing them forward into a little pile that she pulls apart, before stretching up to push the rest back onto the shelf. She turns on her heel and marches for the front counter. He lingers a moment to straighten the pile on the shelf, and trails after her. 

His gaze is buried in the inside of his coat as he searches for his coin purse. His hands are still buzzing, just a little, from where she held them earlier and promised him she’d be at his side. He can’t stop thinking about it. It’s distracting him from getting his coins. 

The distinctive clink of metal on countertop jerks his gaze up just as he reaches his hand in for the first coin. She’s already dropped the gold in a neat little pile, pleasantly smiling at the clerk as she snaps the clasp on her purse shut. 

“That’s very generous of you,” he says, hand still frozen holding his own money. 

She swings around, flashing a thumbs up and a grin. She holds it a little too long for comical effect. Of course, he snickers. 

She turns to the paper on the countertop, making to gather it in her arms, but he starts, and she turns back to face him. He’s frozen there, hand just barely outstretched for her, mouth agape like he was going to say something. 

What is there to say? What can he possibly say to her, to repay everything she’s ever said to him? What can he say that’s worth the sound of her laugh, and the way her tongue sticks out a little when she smiles? What’s worth the way she brightens up a room even when she’s grumpy, the bubble to his gloom? 

What measures up to a tap on his shoulder as he turns to leave his study, and hands in his as she swears, with the most somber honesty he’s ever seen, that she watched him face what he could have been, tied up like a feral beast in a prison cell, and she stares in his eyes and tells him it’s ok, she saw it and loved him even through it, and then bought him presents afterwards just because?

He’ll never deserve her, he swears. 

She’s still looking at him, expectantly, and his mouth is still stuck open, and his hand is still halfway between the two of them. Maybe it’s just him, but the memory of her holding it seems to be burning even hotter. 

He tries to say something again, and the words aren’t coming out. She’s still waiting on him, expression starting to tip towards worry as he tries and fails to express just how overflowed his heart is right now. He can’t say it but gods, she ought to know how much she’s worth to him. Maybe he can just show her. He’ll tell her later.

It would be so easy … 

******

VI. 

The hallway is orange. Pale, warm, sort-of-translucent orange, swirling about her in patterns of lollipops and unicorn hamsters. Her own spells wrapped in the tender grip of his magic, handed to her with something like reverence. 

I believe, he had said, I have no choice. 

He’d done little things like this before, casting spells to make her and everyone else happier, letting her play with his cat because it made her smile. But he said he’d been working on this for weeks. Pouring time and sweat and his precious paper into making this thing, just for her. Everyone liked to tease her about the Traveler and how it was totally a cult, and usually she let it roll off her back, even if it stung a little on impact. And Caleb was here, telling her he took her belief in the Traveler at face value, simply because it was hers.

I don’t know anything about faith, he had said, I am learning from you.

He was a suspicious man. She knew that. He held grudges, and he mistrusted, and he had every right to. And yet all these months, he’s been putting everything he had in her hands, sure that she would not drop it. She would hold it as gently as she could.

I am the transmutation wizard, he had said, but you are the one who changes people. 

How was he supposed to know that was what she was afraid of, leaving no mark on the world at all? How was he supposed to know she made art everywhere she got the chance to in hopes that she would stop being erased, start existing outside of one little room and a handful of people? 

He wouldn’t have any reason to, except for he knew her so well, better than nearly anyone. He could tell when doubt was crawling up out of her gut, spilling its black tendrils from her mouth and across her eyes. He could see when the veneer got scratched, and he knew how to brush it just so, so it looked okay again. He knew how to comfort her. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

She knows it’s barely anything, but she doesn’t know what else to say. It caught her by surprise, and she’s reeling a little in the aftermath of seeing just how far he’s willing to go for her. 

He says something else, she barely processes, but it’s enough to get her babbling about some kind of performance. She trips over her words a little, she’s just so excited. He can tell, he smiles, and that just makes her heart jump even more. 

“But you have done so much for m- for all of us,” he says, and he’s not sneaky.

For me. She knows he was going to say it. For me. 

Tears are almost brimming in her eyes, happy ones, and he put them there. Done so much for her, she thinks, has he counted how much he’s done for me? She’s clasping her hands at her mouth, trying to keep all her feelings from coming out at once.  

He doesn’t know the half of it, everything he’s done for her. To make her feel safe, to make her feel smart, to make her feel seen, to make her feel believed in. He doesn’t know it at all, and yet the hallway is orange as a testament to how much he’s done, and she can’t let the sentiment go unreturned. 

It would be so easy … 

*******

VII.

“Didn’t go as well as you were hoping?”

His voice seems to startle her, as if she’d forgotten in her sadness that there were other people around her. He knew the feeling. 

“In some ways it went better?” she says, doubting it even as it leaves her mouth. “But. No.”

His face softens. It’s the only thing he can do, really.

Her breath is coming out shaky.

“I can’t speak for him,” he starts, offering what little encouragement he can, “but you do have us.”

“I know,” she answers, grateful even through the sadness. 

“So, whatever you land on. Jester.” He stops for a second, letting her name linger in his mouth. “We will make it happen.”

She nods, curt, tears still pricking in her eyes. “I have to figure out what I want to land on.”

He laughs, hollow and breathy, what else is there to do. He starts to reach his hand out for her, and catches it, his own hesitance getting the better of him.

He knows what he wants her to land on, he’s known for … longer than he really cares to admit. He knows he’d follow her to hell and back, that’s why he’s here on this island with her. 

He knows how hard it is to love without a compass to direct it. He knows that moonlight makes selfishness a much more appealing color. 

It’s dark, and he’s hopelessly in, and she’s searching for a place to not be so alone. He could show her a place to land. 

It would be so easy … 

******

VIII. 

He’s holding it out to her, a black ball clutched between his fingertips, just a little iridescent in the blazing sun overhead. He’s grinning, and his eyes are bright. He looks so happy, for just this moment, with a pearl in his hand. 

Forget the water pouring down their faces as they come up from the murk, plastering their hair to their foreheads at odd angles. Forget the wrench in both their guts about the monster brewing beneath their feet and in their minds. Forget the clothes sticking to their skin in all the wrong spots. Forget the sounds of their friends arguing twenty feet back. 

She jumped in the water with him for a reason, because he wanted pearls, and she wanted him to be happy, and he’s holding one out to her right now because he is, and that’s all she could really ask for.

Maybe it’ll be extra wet and slippery. Maybe it’ll taste like salt and seaweed and that weird fish stink that all bodies of water seem to have. Maybe her hands are covered in sand and they’ll get some in their mouths and it’ll be disgusting. 

Who cares? She jumped in the water with him and he’s happy. 

It would be so easy … 

******

IX.

The funny thing is, when she was little, she actually planned her wedding in this room. The canopy bed would double as the altar, gauze draping about them and the window lighting them from the back as they knelt with their hands together, wrapping them up with silk ribbon as someone spoke some formal rites. Mama would sit in the guest of honor chair at Jester’s desk, a tear running down her cheek as she watched her baby girl marry the love of her life.

Now Caleb’s in here with her and she’s realizing there’s no good angle to get the window backlight and be in full view of her Mama.

He’s lying down on the bed, because she told him to. She’s flopped down next to him, squirmed up into his side with the excuse of “small bed” but the intent of “I like the way I rest against your side”. 

He’d commented on her array of books - she knew he would. She may or may not have pulled the smarter looking titles up to the front a few visits ago, just in case.

He’d looked at her artwork too, spanning the walls in all its multicolored glory. He’d bent down to get a good look at her earliest, shittiest paintings. But not in the way where he wanted to see how bad they were, to laugh at. In the same way he looked at new artifacts they’d picked up along the road, as he traced his runes for Identify. Like he was trying to glean a missed history out of them, to get to know just a little bit more about what was in front of him now.

So she’s curled into his chest, careful with her horns, wrapping her hand over his to point out every last detail. Her other hand falls to his stomach, her fingers brush his, and neither of them pull away.

She always figured they’d fall like this, her and her husband, backward onto the bed after the ribbon was knotted to finalize their union. They’d be too happy to stand and they’d just collapse at each other’s side, and they’d plan their honeymoon like this. Pointing out places they wanted to go in her little snapshot of the cityscape, nestled into each other’s chests. 

Caleb’s enraptured, she can hear excitement in his breath, and she’s more than a little pleased. She didn’t know people cared this much about her art, about her childhood, about who she was before she became who she is. She hopes she has all the time in the world to tell him more. 

She’s still on his chest, their hands are still touching, even though she’s finished pointing out the painted landmarks. She’s kissed a lot of imaginary boys in this room. 

It would be so easy … 

******

X.

Spinning with her arms out, feet tracing circles in the snow, they haven’t even made it to the dance hall yet and she’s already waltzing like he taught her all those months ago in a scroungy gnomish bar. The cold is bringing a flush to her cheeks and god damn it, it’s cute. She’s humming. 

They could get inside where it’s warm, where they don’t need to get close for heat but they do anyway. Wrap an arm around her waist and take her hand in his. Keep her close enough to hear her giggle with each twirl he leads her on. Get drunk off her smile alone. 

Find a far corner where the music is softer and they have space to just sway together. Write new memories over old, equally as sweet, slightly less bitter. Look at that smile that won’t have faded since before they stepped through the door. Run his fingers across her jaw, save this moment in tactile too. Lean down in slow motion, as she stretches up.

It would be so easy … 

******

XI. 

“What are you drawing?” he asks, not even looking up from his spells. He’s grown comfortable with having her in his space.

“A cup of hot cocoa.”

“Are there dicks in it?”

“No, just two very lovely marshmallows.”

His head lifts up at that, gazing at her with the gleam he’s been giving his runes. He’s trying to figure her out.

“Shnuggling up next to each other,” she continues. “With consent.”

“We’re not talking about grass are we?”

“No. I’m talking about marshmallows.”

“Marshmallows?” The gleam in his eye grows a little brighter. He leans a little closer. “I thought there was a hidden meaning for a second.”

There’s a reason why she sat down here, why she wanted him next to her as she thought about love and commitment, and telling people things after all these months. There’s a reason why he didn’t start as she settled at his side. There’s a reason why he’s looking at her with a cocked grin on his face, sure of himself, in a way that he so rarely is. 

Maybe she wanted him to figure her out. Maybe she’s been trying to get him to figure her out for a while. He’s starting to turn back to his spells, so maybe she needs to get even a little more obvious.

It would be so easy...

******

XII.

She knocked on the door with her heart already in her throat, but the second she stepped through the door and saw him looking over at her, tired but welcoming, it started to settle back where it belonged. 

“Caleb. Will you cast tongues on me? YouknowImeanthespell,” she said, rushing words out because her heart was starting to leap back up again. “I just want to read the book.”

He nervously tucks some hair behind his ear. “I could read it to you, if you want?”

She knew he’d offered before, but she’s still surprisingly happy that he’s done it again. “Okay.”

He stands, wiping stained ink from his fingers on his pants as he leaves his desk, gesturing her over towards his fireplace. She swears as she walks over the flames get a little taller. She’s always liked it warmer than Caleb does. 

She flops down onto the couch, wiggling a little bit to get comfortable. She pats the seat next to her and he obliges. She holds the book out and he takes it from her, so very gently, and she can’t tell if it’s just the way he treats books, or the way he treats her, or both. 

He clears his throat as he prepares to open the cover, glancing over to make sure she’s ready. She scooches a bit closer, resting her cheek against his shoulder, you know, to see the pictures better, and hums to let him know he can start. 

He talks to her in a quiet kind of voice. It’s soft, and it makes his chest rumble, and it feels like home. She could close her eyes and fall asleep here, and she can bet he wouldn’t even get up and risk disturbing her. She nearly does, but he’s stopping every few sentences to show her the pictures, without her even asking, he just knows she wants to see them. He’s pointing out the hidden cat on every page. She loves that he still remembers where they all are.

“That was a happy story, Caleb!” she says, mostly to his shoulder, because she doesn’t want to move from where she’s nestled herself. 

“Mhm,” he agrees. “That’s why my mother read it to me.”

“I really thought, like, the cat prince was going to trap him in there forever, and then he wouldn’t be able to go and see his mother.” She cranes her head up now, propping her chin on his arm, stabilizing herself with arms she was barely aware she’d wrapped around his waist. 

“Well,” he says, turning his head towards her and finding their noses nearly touching, “a lot of Zemnian stories do end that way.”

She laughs, he smiles, and neither of them want to move. 

“The Cat Prince kind of reminds me of the Traveler,” she muses. She buries her face back in his shoulder as she talks, squeezing her arms a little tighter around him. 

“It’s true, isn’t it?” 

It’s a question only in technicality. The way his voice sounds as he says it, she can tell. He’s read so many stories, he could have picked any to leave in her room, but he chose this one about a boy and a bedroom and a magic cat and a brief escape, with a happy ending. He knew she’d ask. He wanted her to. 

She’s glad she did. She’s glad he knows her so well. She’s glad for the way he turned up the fire to make her comfortable. She’s glad for the smile that’s still on his lips, lasting longer than his smiles usually do. She’s glad she’s here with him, after everything they’ve seen and heard and done. She’s just glad. 

Gods, she’s so in love with him.

It would be so easy.

fin.

[harryhandstan]

gotta get better

gif credit

This concept has been in my head for a while now and it took me like a month to write and edit and just get it all out! I had surgery two years ago today and it was one of the most emotional, stressful experiences of my life simply bc I’m just a big baby lol. This is just something to celebrate that day and the fact that I’m still so happy it’s all over! Fluffy af as usual cause that’s all I know how to write. :)

Thankful to @bfharry​ and @bopbopstyles​ for not only inspiring me with their amazing writing but pushing me towards finishing this and reaching (even going over) my personal 5k goal! I appreciate you both so much!!

I recently saw a post about tagging triggers properly so I’m gonna do it that way but if I do it wrong or it doesn’t work PLEASE let me know and I will fix it immediately (just want to be sure all my bases are covered)

// needles tw, pills tw (prescription), anxiety tw // (if I missed anything I should’ve tagged please please let me know!!) and I’m sure there are some medical inaccuracies bc that whole day is kind of a blur for me haha 

as always likes/rbs/comments are welcome but absolutely not necessary :) 

final word count: 7.1k

//

"Y'nervous, angel?"

"Hmm?"

"Bout to chew your finger off. I know there can't be much of a nail left."

Your hand drops back to your lap. You hadn't even realized you were doing it. A bad habit of the nervous child you thought you'd long forgotten. He offers his left hand and you accept it, thumb swiping over the cross painted across his skin. He knows it's one of your favorites and you're thankful for the comfort. You don't know how many times he'd teased you about how you would eventually rub it off one day and he'd have to get it redone.

"S'a routine surgery, I bet they do them all day. You're gonna be fine."

You'd been over all this a thousand times before. Harry had to ban you from looking up the procedure online at one point. You became obsessive with worry. What if you're still awake when they cut into you and you can't talk? What if you feel everything and can't tell anyone? What if you don't wake up? He had shot down every one of your horrifying theories.

"How much longer before they take me back?"

"Nurse said it would be about 10 minutes when we checked in. Shouldn't be too much longer. Want me to check the board again?"

Checking in had only consisted of a nurse taking your name and giving you your bracelet for the day with an ID number. The number would help Harry stay updated on where you were throughout the whole process. The "board" was simply a tv mounted to the wall that frequently cycled through each patient's last name and ID number.

"No, no," You cling to his sleeve like a desperate child, "Don't leave again. She said they wouldn't update anything until I went back anyway."

Harry had left you only briefly when you first arrived. Hands in his pockets, wandering around like a lost child around the big, open expanse of the waiting room. He stayed where you could see him and the whole time you had anxiously chewed your bottom lip until he returned. You hated it, but you knew he was just as nervous as you. So you let him have that moment. To check his surroundings and release some of the nerves so he could come back to you, calm and cool as always.

When the nurse does call your name, you almost jump out of your skin. You freeze, unable to move. Harry stands and flashes the nurse a quick smile before turning back to you and offering his hand.

You shake your head, "I can't do this, H. I feel like I'm gonna throw up if I move."

"You're not, promise. Remember those breathing exercises we practiced? Do those. C'mon..deep breath in. Pause. Slowly let it out. Do it while we walk."

Slow deep breath in. Pause. Slowly let it out.

You remember how silly you felt the first time you did it. How it made you giggle at first. This is never going to work. But eventually it did. Anytime you got upset or started to overthink about this day, Harry made you stop whatever you were doing and sit down. Breathe.

It was a little difficult to do while walking. Your body wanted to pause your steps when your breath paused, but Harry tugged you along, you almost hiding behind him until you made it through a set of heavy wooden doors to a small space with a hospital bed and a curtain drawn in front of it.

//

The IV had had been your biggest dread, the fear overriding any logic that it was something you needed, instead of something the nurses decided to do simply to torture you.

Your face twists into a wince of pain when the needle goes into your vein, Harry standing over you, his face a mirror of your own as you squeeze his hand. When the nurse pulls away with a triumphant "all done!" you flash a look of surprise between your arm and Harry.

"Not that bad, eh? Think ya overreacted a bit about how bad that was gonna be?" He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to shoot him a nasty look for teasing you.

"Maybe a little." You pinch your index finger and thumb together, indicating a minimal amount.

"Tiny bit more, babe," Another nurse appears from around the curtain and he laughs before speaking to her, "it's all she's worried about all morning."

"Honestly that's everyone's least favorite part. The rest of the day should be aces if you can handle that!"

Harry settles himself into a chair while the nurse goes through a myriad of questions. Any other surgeries? Allergies to medications you know of? Do you smoke? Drink?

Harry snorts when you say no to drinking, but quickly clasps his hand over his mouth when the nurse's head snaps to look between you and him.

"The occasional drink is fine, no worries. Nothing this morning though, right?"

"No, ma'am."

Your eyes meet his, a mischievous grin still plastered across his face. He mumbles a quick "sorry" while you try to pull your concentration back towards the nurse and the remainder of her questions.

"Alright, time for the good stuff," she passes you a small clear cup with two white pills, "First one is just something to keep you calm and relaxed, second one is to prevent any pain after the procedure. They'll give you something to make you sleepy when you get to the OR, but this might make you a bit loopy for now."

"This should be fun." Harry claps his hand in front of him, rubbing them together quickly. He leans forward in his chair, as if ready for a show.

"Yeah? Is she a happy drunk?"

Harry had only ever experienced you high on any sort of prescription medication once, almost a year ago when you went on a girl's trip with your best friend and twisted your ankle in an attempt to make it back to her car after dinner out one night. You calling him from an unknown ER in the middle of the night had terrified him enough to start packing a bag to fly to you before your best friend could grab your phone and assure him you were fine and she would put you on a plane home to him in two days as planned. He had teased you endlessly when he picked you up from the airport and for the next few days afterwards as you limped around on a bruised, ACE bandage wrapped foot.

But after too many wine drunk nights to count, he had enough stories to humiliate you with and the thought of any one of them being told now had you sinking further into the hospital bed.

"You could say that. Last time she.." His voice trails off at the sight of your eyes, wide as saucers, begging him to stop.

The nurse grins, her face kind and sympathetic to your silent cry for help.

"We're a little behind schedule this morning so it may be about 20 minutes before they come transport you, okay?" You nod, the effects of the sedative already working its way through your system, "Keep an eye on her? Make sure she behaves?"

"Yeah, I got her. We'll be fine, thank you so much." He's closer now, standing next to you again, a hand sliding up your arm to settle on your shoulder. You manage a thumbs up and a sleepy "thank you" as an affirmation that you appreciate all she's done for you.

"You're more than welcome. You'll have a different set of nurses in recovery but if you need anything until they come get you, just let me know, alright?"

"We will, thanks." His thumb ghosts across the front of your collarbone, the lightest of touches to soothe you, his eyes still focused on the nurse.

"Good luck! You're gonna do just fine, I promise."

The second she's around the curtain, Harry nudges you lightly, "Scoot."

"Huh? What do you mean..Harry, there's not enough room for you in this bed." Your head feels too light to deal with his nonsense now.

"Yeah there is if you scoot. C'mon. Hurry before we get caught. M’supposed to be keeping an eye on you, remember? Gotta make sure you don't fall outta the bed."

He's already wedged himself next to you, trying to make his tall frame fit into the limited space.

You move over as much as you can, the rail of the bed poking into your hip.

He tucks one arm behind your head, the other one thrown behind his own as a cushion.

"You feel more relaxed now, lovie?"

You scrunch down in the bed, just enough that you can tuck your head under his other arm, "A little. I don't feel sleepy enough though," Your eyes dart up, seeking the comfort of his face, "I'm scared, H."

"I know you are, baby," the hand behind your head shifts to cup around your arm, pulling you closer, "Just pretend you're home with me and we're taking a nice little nap together, yeah?"

"But you won't be there with me, not really."

"I'll be there when you wake up though. First thing you'll see when you open your eyes, promise." He runs a finger along the curve of your nose, "Close your eyes. Try to sleep, hmm?"

You shake your head, turning towards him to hide your face in his side, inhaling his scent.

"Want me to turn the light off? Would that help?"

"No," You toss the arm that isn't trapped between you two over him, holding tightly to his shirt, "Stay."

"Alright, then. We'll just wait," He tilts his head to rest closer to yours, "Have you thought about what you want to eat after?"

"Not really. M'too nervous to think about food."

"We'll think of something good. Whatever you want."

"You're gonna get us in trouble, better scoot back to your corner like a good boy." Your words come out unintentionally slurred and you weakly push yourself up and away from him as he slides off. He doesn't sit though, just stands near you, an anxious look flashing across his features.

"Hey, c'mere. Gonna be fine, routine surgery, remember?" You stretch your arms out to him, a plea to be near his warmth again.

He sits on the edge of the bed, facing you. You tug lightly at the sleeve of his cardigan, a feeble attempt to pull him closer. He indulges you, his brow still creased with distress.

"Know ya gonna be fine, just hate you have to go through it at all. Wish I could take it from you without all this." He gestures to the IV he knows you despise so much.  

"You have helped take it from me. All the sleepless nights you spent up with me, holding my hair back when I got sick. All the days after when I was too drained to get out of bed. You were there for as much of it as you could be. And you pushed me to go see the surgeon in the first place. You've helped me more than you give yourself credit for."

His fingers intertwine in yours, the pad of his thumb soothing over the front of your hand.

"Make sure you keep my phone with you, my mom will probably call you every 30 minutes for updates." A yawn stretches across your face, "She has your number too, bullied me into giving it to her last week when I called to tell her about the surgery."

He nods, patting his pocket to make sure both phones are still nestled there together.

Another yawn threatens to escape and you muffle it this time, more content to fight sleep to stare at Harry; his hair a perfect mess of curls under the harsh brightness of the hospital lighting. His face is more relaxed now, his eyes still focused on your fingers tangled together. He catches you, your eyes glazed over, too heavy and threatening to close.

"Darling, please close your eyes. I can see how tired you are," His fingertips sweep delicately over your nose again, as if he was lulling a baby to sleep, "You don't have to stay awake for me."

"Closing my eyes for just a second, alright? Not because you told me to though. I want to. Wake me up in 2 hours, don't wanna sleep too long."

Your eyes are already drifting closed, the last thing you hear is a chuckle; effortless, light as air, "I will, promise."

Soft kisses pressed across your face, "Sweet dreams, love."

//

His voice is the first you hear as you wake up in the dimly lit recovery room. Well, really it was more like a big cubicle, another space with a curtain drawn in front of it. Even with the floaty, dreamy feeling flowing through your system, you can still detect the worry in his voice.

"Harry?" It takes your mind a minute to catch up and process where you are and what had happened.

Oh yeah. Surgery day. No more annoying gallbladder. No more sleepless nights. Freedom to eat what you want and not be haunted by nausea and sickness from what you ate.

"How are you feeling? Any pain?" Suddenly a nurse in bright blue scrubs is there, way too animated and loud at the moment, "Pain scale 1-10?"

"I don't have any pain. Zero." You're aware of how high you sound and a giggle escapes through the haze. That earns you a smile from Harry, one that lights up his whole face and makes his dimples shine through.

"Awesome! Well then as soon as you're good and awake we're gonna get this IV out and go over some paperwork for both of you to sign. I want you to drink something for me too, so what would you like?"

You request a ginger ale and as soon as the nurse leaves to retrieve it for you, Harry scoots the chair he's sitting in as close to the bed as possible.

"How long was I out?"

"Couple of hours," He absentmindedly fixes your hair, looping various curls back around to their respective places, "Took a little longer than expected, you had a small infection so they had to make sure it hadn't spread."

"How much longer?"

"Long enough you had us all slightly worried." His hand trails down your cheek to cup your chin gently, urging you to look at him, "You sure you're not in pain? Now's not the time to do that stubbornly brave thing you do where you pretend nothing's wrong."

"I feel fine, really. Just a little tired, ready to go home."

He studies your face, trying to find any trace of dishonesty. When he's satisfied you're being truthful, he stands and extracts your phone from his pocket.

"Already talked to ya mum, but your co-workers were all texting you, asking how you were. Figured you'd want to handle that yourself, didn't know how much detail you would want to give them."

"Did you give my mother all the details? Infection and everything?"

"Um, no. I knew better than to do that. Promised her you would call when I got you settled at home."

"You promised or she demanded?"

"Okay..she politely asked that you call her when we get home."

"That sounds more like her." You roll your eyes, pushing yourself so you're sitting more upright in the bed.

"She just worries about you." He adjusts the pillow behind you, fluffing and tucking it where you direct it, against your lower back.

"I know. I'll FaceTime her when we get home to prove I'm alive."

"It's been a while since we've seen them, maybe we should plan a visit?" He plops himself back in the chair, leaning back as far as he can go; hands behind his head, eyes closed. You'd both gotten very little sleep the night before, you were too anxious and he was too gracious to let you suffer alone.

"Oh please, I'm lucky I even got time off to do this. My boss would never allow another break so soon."

"Maybe for the holidays?"

"Maybe..but only if you can go with me, you know they love you more than me by now anyway."

"They do not," He peeks one eye open at you, "They love us both equally."

You shoot a quick text to your co-workers, using the group chat between the few of you to make it easier.

I'm out! Feeling okay for now but that might change later lol

The nurse is back, apologizing for taking so long, "We've been so behind all day, it's crazy busy. I had to wait for your doctor to sign off on your release." She hands you a can of ginger ale, white bendy straw already poised and ready for you.

"Just need you to sign here," She holds a clipboard and a pen out to you and you balance the can dangerously in one hand while you scribble something that resembles your signature. Close enough. She gestures for you to pass the clipboard to Harry, "His signature goes under yours, just says he's responsible for you for the next few hours until everything wears off."

"This means I'm the boss, right?" He leans over to grab the board, a wink thrown in your direction. He's enjoying himself way too much at the thought of being in control of you for the next few hours. Smug son of a bitch.

She takes the clipboard back and pulls off a yellow sheet of paper, "This is just your copy of what you signed, and also has post op instructions for your bandages. Your prescription's been sent to the pharmacy, and there's a brief summary of pain management information on the bottom there just in case you need it."

"Thank you." You transfer it right to Harry's waiting hand, knowing he'll be the one surveying every word, making sure you follow everything to the letter.

"I know you mentioned earlier having a little bit of a drive home, so probably once you get her some food and pick up her prescriptions, it'll be time for another round of meds. Okay?" She turns to you again, "I know it sounds silly, but one of the most important things after this particular surgery is lots of walking. Otherwise you'll be miserable. Rest for a while when you get home, then get up every 10 minutes or so until bedtime. Don't let her skip that part, alright? Very important."

"I heard you weren't a big fan of this thing," She nods towards the IV in your right forearm, "So this'll probably be the best part of this whole process for you. We'll get this out and then you can get changed and we'll get someone to wheel you down and out of here, alright? Don't look and you won't even know when it's gone."

"Hey, think about what you want to eat, huh? Your first freedom meal. Yay!" He slips his hand into your left, raising your connected hands victoriously. You didn't think it was possible for you to love him anymore until this moment. The way he could so easily erase your fear was one of his many gifts you adored him for, "What are we having, babe?"

You don't even hesitate before answering, "Pizza, from Milano's. It's my favorite, other than that one place in Italy you took me to. Please? Oh and one of their salads, with the little bread knots on the side!"

He glances at the nurse, awaiting a reprimand for your meal choice.

"As your nurse, I feel I should remind you that while you can have anything you feel like eating, we usually recommend something small and light at first. Broth or soup with some toast, maybe. The salad may be fine, but the pizza might be a little heavy. Taking it slow would be best. But everyone is different."

"So..just cheese then? Maybe some mushrooms?"

You let your head fall back against the pillow, a foggy haze settling over you, "Plain cheese, no mushrooms."

"Alright, sounds good. Why don't I go call it in and pull the car around? Meet you out front?" He leans closer, a quick peck to your cheek before pulling his hand loose from yours and turning to leave.

"Hey, wait," You attempt to tug at his wrist, but fail, your brain still set to slow-motion. He takes pity on you and returns to your side, "Let's eat there. It's in the mall so we can window shop after we eat."

"You sure? You still seem a bit tipsy, honey."

You don't feel tipsy. Just tired, and hungry. Very hungry. As if on cue, your stomach makes a remarkably loud noise; an objection at not being fed for the past 12 hours.

"Alright, alright, calm down. " You let out an embarrassed groan when you realize he's talking to your stomach, "We'll eat there."

He kisses you again, closer to your mouth, "Missed."

"I did, huh?" He chuckles, close enough to your face now your noses are almost touching, "Let's try again."

This time his lips meet yours and you know he missed on purpose the first time by how amused he looks when he pulls away.

"One more for luck?" You can't resist letting the back of your hand wander over his face, before resting the palm of your hand against his cheek.

"I think I can handle that," He smiles before landing another quick peck to your lips, "Be good for the nurse while I'm gone. I'll have the getaway car ready in 10, yeah?"

//

You're certain Harry would have fed you if you would have let him, right here in the mall food court in front of everyone. But you refuse, insisting even, on carrying your own tray to the table. He chuckles when you pull your phone out of your sweater pocket to take a picture of your food, quickly uploading it to Facebook.

He watches you closely as you take the first bite, even pulling his own phone out to sneak a photo of you when you temporarily close your eyes to appreciate the indulgence of being able to eat one of your favorite foods again; free from that anxious feeling of whether or not it would settle right with your body later. You open your eyes the very moment after he captured the image.

"Harry!"

"You just looked so happy! I couldn't help it. You know I'll never post it anyway. Snagged a few of you earlier in your little blue cap they made you wear too." He flips back through to show you. You try to snatch the phone away, but he's too quick to pull his hand back and stash his phone in his pocket.

"When??"

"After you fell asleep, right before they came to take you back."

He takes a bite from his own generous slice of pizza in front of him before gesturing to your tray, "How is it?"

"Amazing. Even better than before, if possible."

His smile is bright, loving the satisfaction of seeing you actually enjoy food again.

Your plan to walk around the mall was cut short, you could barely make it through one store without yawning. You cling to Harry most of the way back to the car, his arm securely wrapped around you to keep you steady.

You doze off on the drive home, and when your eyes flutter open you find him opening the passenger door, offering a hand to help lift you out of the car and up the stairs into the house. Your foot stumbles on the first step, failing to make contact and you almost fall back.

"Easy," He giggles, an arm thrown behind your back to catch you before encouraging softly, "Try again."

When he's confident you're stable enough on your feet, he lets go to unlock the door.

You're greeted by a bouquet of flowers, a colorful arrangement of roses and lilies from Harry's band mates. You immediately recognize Sarah's handwriting on the card and make a mental note to shoot everyone a thank you text later. You don't know if it's the medication still in your system, the exhaustion of the day, or the overwhelming amount of love that makes you teary eyed.

Harry stands behind you as you admire the flowers and the card, arms curving around to hug you, careful of the large bandage on your upper abdomen and the two smaller steri-strips on your right side.

"How did they know pink roses were my favorite?"

"They love you, peach." He rests his chin on your shoulder, "Besides, you've only mentioned growing up with a pink rose bush in your Nanna's garden about a hundred times."

"I always loved it. Still do."

Your mind travels back to your earliest memories spent there; summers when you practically lived at the small house on the hill. Helping pick tomatoes and peppers from the garden, too warm afternoons spent with a book in your lap under the shade of a peach tree, your grandfather's corny jokes and loving smile. Your Nanna's too generous portions of food contributing to the few extra curves you still carried with you to this day.

You don't even notice the tears at first. They slip down your cheeks and land on his arm. Once you realize, you try to quickly wipe them away, but Harry sees.

"Hey..c'mon, I think your high's wearing off a bit, bub. Pajamas, meds, nap. Sound good?" He turns you to face him, using the sleeve of his shirt to brush away any tears that still linger at the corner of your eyes.

"What time is it?"

"Almost 3..why?"

"No nap. I'll never sleep tonight, and you know how grumpy I get when my sleep schedule is thrown off." Even with your declaration of not wanting a nap, you can't help but rub your eyes, a weak attempt to keep yourself awake. Any resolve Harry had to try to convince you to nap melts away. A smirk on his face, he knows you'll eventually crash later, most likely on his chest or in his arms. He's content to let you be stubborn for now.

"Okay, then. New plan. Pajamas, meds, movie. Better?"

"Better. You get everything ready and pick the movie while I change?"

"You don't wanna pick the movie?"

You wave him off, already shuffling towards the bedroom, "You're the boss today, remember?"

You take your time gathering what you need to get cozy for the rest of the day, selecting an oversized, well-worn tie dye t-shirt and leggings from your dresser. You even take a moment to dip into Harry's extensive sweatshirt collection, grabbing your favorite one. It's amazingly soft and still smells of him, a faint scent of his cologne and well..just Harry. You couldn't imagine anything more comforting.

In your pursuit to feel more lucid, you venture into the bathroom, taking a moment to wash your face. The cool water instantly refreshes you and pushes you closer to feeling like yourself again. Wanting your hair out of your face, you pluck a scrunchy from your shared collection of hair accessories. You quickly recognize that your arms still have that too heavy feeling of unconsciousness and after a few attempts to gather your curls into some sort of up-do, you give up and loop the accessory around your wrist to try again later.

Harry senses your frustration when you find him in the kitchen, two small green pill bottles sitting on the counter in front of him. He's already filled your favorite cup with ice water, and you gratefully take it and drink from it.

"What's wrong?" His brow creases with concern and you feel guilty for making him worry over something so silly.

"Nothing..just wanted my hair up out of my face but my arms wouldn't cooperate." You try to laugh it off to put him more at ease, "It's not a big deal."

You know it's only the weariness of the day still making you feel so emotional, clear-headed you would not be upset over something so small.

"Here. Let me try." He slides the scrunchy from your wrist and pulls you closer to him, moving behind you to gently work long fingers through your hair, gathering it all in a loose ponytail on top of your head before securing it around a few times with the scrunchy.

You let your shoulders drop with a deep sigh when he's done, it was such a simple thing, but it made you feel so much lighter. He spins you around to face him, a charming gleam of pride at his handiwork adorning his face, "Too tight?"

"No. Much better. Thank you, Harry. You take such good care of me always, but today..I don't know what I would've done without you. I made such a big fuss and probably made you miserable with all of my worrying." You're suddenly very aware that you are rambling, but when you catch a glimpse of his face, his smile is wide. So bright that the skin around his eyes is crinkling.

He leans towards you, lips stopping whatever words may have come next, arms wrapping around you to pull you closer in a soft, warm embrace. When he pulls away, his eyes bore right into yours, and your heart swells with more love than you could ever imagine having for one person. But he wasn't just any person. He was your person, your whole word staring back at you.

"I'm SO proud of you. You've been so strong today, always knew you had that strength in you, but seeing you take that leap of faith..doing something you knew you should despite your fear, that's all you, love. I can't take any credit for that. You've made me anything but miserable, trust me."

His face is still close enough to yours that you nudge forward, pressing your forehead to his, a silent appreciation of his affection.

"Any pain yet?" He pulls back, a thumb across your cheek, eyes still locked on yours.

"My head kind of hurts? And I still just feel kind of..drunk."

"You have always been a bit of a lightweight, babe. And a thief too, I see. S'that my sweatshirt?"

"Have not!" You swat playfully at his arm, "Maybe. Is that my hair clip in your hair?"

"Possibly." His eyes dart up to the swoop of curls on top of his head, a black plastic clip twisting it back and away from his face.

"Guess we're even then."

"S'pose we are." He tries to keep his eyes narrowed in a mock attempt of annoyance, but it quickly fades into laughter.

You decide against FaceTiming your family, hoping that hearing your voice will be enough. It seems to satisfy them at least for the rest of the day. You assure them that Harry is taking very good care of you and that everything went as smooth as could be expected.

He raises one eyebrow at you as you hang up, "As smooth as expected, huh? You aren't going to tell them the truth?"

"What's to tell? I had an infection and now it's gone. I'm fine, there's no sense in worrying them. We can give them the full story later."

He shrugs, fingers working to open one of the green pill bottles before passing one of the white pills to you, "For your headache, lovie. There's something here for nausea too if you need it. M'worried the pizza might've been too much. Maybe you should take one of these..just in case?"

"Harry, I promise I will tell you if I feel anything other than fine." Your hand runs from his shoulder down his bicep, squeezing gently, "Besides, I cannot take a whole one of those. If you think I'm a lightweight now..I'll sleep for the whole week if I take that."

He slips the bottle in his pocket, pulling you in to press a kiss to the top of your head, "We'll keep it close just in case, okay?"

"Sounds good," Your hand trails back up to his neck to work fingers through his hair, "Hey, thought we were watching a movie? What'd you pick?"

"Thought we could decide together. C'mon, let's get you comfy in bed."

"Ever the gentleman, always trying to get me in your bed."

"Hey! I am a perfect gentleman, thank you very much," He chuckles, a hand coming to rest on the small of your back, "Just thought you'd be more comfortable, you can prop up and stretch your feet out."

You let him tug you along for the second time today, thankful it's the luxury of your shared bed you get to settle into this time. He tucks you in softly, propping pillows behind your back and head.

"Comfy? Need anything else?"

"No, just need you to quit babying me so much and relax with me for a bit."

"Since when am I not allowed to baby you?"

You roll your eyes, "Never said you weren't allowed. Just want you to stop worrying so much, that's all."

"Good. Cause y'are my baby," No matter how many times you'd heard him say it before, it never failed to make you blush, "Do anything for you, y'know that, right?"

"I know," You look down at your hands, trying to slow your racing heart, "You never let me forget."

"Hey," He pokes your cheek, pulling your gaze back up to him, "I love you."

"I love you more, H."

He kisses your forehead, "Impossible. I love you most."

The reference to one of your favorite movies has you smiling at him, that dreamy feeling falling over you again, "Can we watch Tangled?"

"Sure, princess."

He sinks next to you, head propped up on your shoulder, navigating easily through Disney+ to find your requested movie.

Your eyes drift closed right about the time the lanterns are being released in the sky, a moment that normally leaves your face wet with tears, the soft vibrations of Harry humming along the perfect lullaby to push you further into your dream.

//

He wakes you later in the evening.

"Dinner's on the table if you want to join me."

"Time's it?" Your voice is still heavy with sleep.

"7. You were sleeping so deeply I didn't want to wake you, thought your body could use the extra sleep today."

"Yeah. It was nice, thank you." You stretch your arms forward, reaching for his hands to help pull you up.

"How do you feel?"

"A little sore. More sober, for sure."

Dinner is simple; a bowl of plain broth, salad, and toast. Exactly what the nurse suggested earlier. There's even a warm mug of tea waiting for you.

"With honey for my honey," He's so proud of his cheesy expression of love you cannot help but smile.

You look at him curiously when he sits next to you, the same boring meal set out for himself.

"Harry..you can eat what you want, babe. Seriously you've done enough today, more than enough to be supportive. It wouldn't hurt my feelings if you made yourself something different."

"Nah. S'fine. We're in this together, yeah?"

You raise your eyebrows at him playfully, "Did you have an organ snatched from your body today?"

"No, I didn't." He laughs, "I just meant food wise, love. It's vegetable broth, by the way, hope that's alright."

"It's perfect."

You nudge him lightly, an elbow to his side, shifting closer to ask for a kiss. He meets you the rest of the way, lips planted firmly on yours. When you don't pull away, he quickly adds another.

After dinner is done and you have another round of meds, the two of you end up in an awkward ball of cuddles on the couch. Harry flips through the channels on the tv before finding a show you both agree on.

But you're too restless, unable to find a position comfortable enough for you. You shift a few times, finally giving up and letting out a frustrated groan before tossing the blanket off the both of you and springing up and off the couch.

Harry doesn't panic, just grabs your hand before you can get too far away or lose your balance, keeping his voice low when he asks, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing hurts. I just can't get comfortable, and I don't feel right."

"What doesn't feel right, angel? Explain."

"I don't feel like myself. I don't know how to explain it. Just feel off."

He sees you're on the verge of tears and ascends from his spot on the couch, arms quickly enveloping you before placing a finger under your chin to pull your face up to look at him.

"It's probably gonna take a day or so to adjust, baby. Yes it was a minor surgery but it was a major change to your body." He's bending now to look right into your eyes, searching them,  "How can we fix it tonight, hmm? What do you need?"

Tears are free flowing, falling on the front of your t-shirt and down to the floor.

"Take your time. Breathe." A large hand smoothing warm circles firmly across your back; a balm for your restless spirit.

You pause, deep breath in before slowly letting it out, "I think I just need to move around for a bit."

"Let's go for a walk, eh? A quick one and then back to bed. Your mind needs more rest. How's that sound?" He taps your forehead softly.

"Okay, yeah." You nod your head, an approval of his plan.

"Don't worry about it, okay? Everything's gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine."

You nod again, scared your voice will break if you try to speak. He knew that those words held a lot of weight for you, he'd repeated them often throughout this whole process and to hear them now was a reminder of how safe you were. That with him, you would always be safe and loved.

Being dark outside meant you gracelessly padding through the house, up and down the hallway a few times and back to the living room. Harry stays close, encouraging you along with little claps and kisses to motivate you. When your stomach starts to feel uneasy, he urges you once again to take something for nausea. You agree to take a half a pill, knowing it'll help you sleep.

Despite the nap you had earlier and only being awake for a couple of hours, it doesn't take much convincing for you to settle back into bed.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

He's already reclined next to you, book in hand, the soft light from the lamp illuminating one side of his face. You're smushed against him, drifting between that sweet space of almost asleep and wanting to stay awake to enjoy any spare moment you get with him. His hand working through your hair helps push you towards the former of the two.

"I'm sorry to be such a burden today," Your words are slurring together but you continue on, just needing to get your thoughts out before he can stop you, "I don't deserve you and I shouldn't have overreacted so much about something so simple."

"Hey, none of that now," He lays the book on the nightstand, careful to save his place for later before pulling you closer to him, "You were not, nor have you ever been a burden to me. Just because you needed a little extra help today does not mean you aren't deserving of me or my love. You will never have to earn that. It's yours, always has been, will be as long as you decide to keep me around."

"Thank you. For all of it. I'll always want you."

"Always? Y'might change your mind someday, angel."

"I won't. Promise."

"Yeah? Me either."

A kiss laid delicately to the top of your head has your eyes dangerously close to falling shut again before another thought navigates its way through your mind and out of your mouth before you can stop it.

"H..what am I gonna do with a full week off from work?"

"Let me take care of you?"

//

And that's exactly what he does.

Mornings spent sleeping in, late breakfasts made together and afternoon walks. Evenings consisting of the two of you preparing dinner together or ordering takeout from some of the forbidden places you couldn't eat from before. Mugs of herbal tea before early bedtimes, you sweetly falling asleep to the sound of his voice reading to you most nights.

But his favorite part was that the scent of lavender was no longer cursed for you. Some nights before your surgery, when you simply could not fall asleep the pain was so unbearable, you would fill the tub with hot water and lavender scented bubbles to try to calm yourself enough to be able to drift off afterwards. It never worked, the heat always doing more harm than good. Harry would always be waiting for you, open arms and a soft towel to wrap you in.

So the smell became one you hated, memories of sleepless nights and nausea. But now you were free to use it again for what you always loved it for before it was cursed. In your body wash, lotion, even your laundry detergent; spreading the scent all over your shared space in as many ways as you could.

He even mentions it one night after dinner, when the two of you are pressed impossibly close together on the couch. His nose buried into your neck, inhaling deeply, pulling away to announce, "You smell like you again, love. Missed it so much." He burrows back in, placing kisses from your neck to your shoulder, ignoring your giggles and protests of how much it tickles.

A week later, the alarm wakes you sooner than you've become accustomed to, reminding you of your return to work. Harry's arm thrown over your waist pulls you closer as you try to leave the bed, a sleepy "Don't go." mumbled in your ear.

You do your best to peel yourself away from him, admitting silently to yourself how much harder it is for you to leave the warmth of your bed as it is for him to let you go.

//

2 years later, you have a scar you swear didn't heal right, and a man who loves you even more because of it.

[casey-v]

Valentine

Ethan x Casey

I haven’t written any fics for quite a while, but with OH3 coming soon I’m getting these vibes again….

I always wondered: what would the closing of Edenbrook mean to E x MC’s relationship? Here’s my attempt to this part of the story.

Sorry in advance for any mistakes, English isn’t my first language.

Warnings: none, I guess (maybe a few smutty thoughts)

Words: 3K

Disclaimer: all characters owned by PB

Participating in @choicesfebchallenge Day14: Valentine

“Good morning Dr. Valentine. This is your day today, isn’t it?” The nurse Rose greeted Casey as she entered the free clinic.

“Good morning. Yeah, I get that a lot.” Casey tried a friendly smile. Since she had been a child everyone referred to her last name on Valentine’s Day, making a remark or joking around. As a teenager it had made her feel special, but by now she was tired of hearing it. Especially today.

She had been in a bad mood since she woke up and it had nothing to do with her last name or Rose. But it had everything to do with the man who simply ignored this day today, probably didn’t even know it existed. 

It was perfectly clear to Casey, that these kinds of traditions meant nothing to Ethan. Nevertheless, her disappointment was huge because she had had great expectations for today. After a few difficult weeks she had hoped that a romantic dinner could bring them closer together again.

After the gala and their public kiss everything had seemed perfect and she had spent some time on cloud number nine. But then Ethan gradually became distant and a little grumpy again. They both often worked double shifts and meetings outside the hospital became rare. And they never talked about their life after Edenbrook’s closing. Whenever they got close to that topic, Ethan would change the subject. And Casey was also in denial; she hadn’t applied to any jobs outside greater Boston because she didn’t want to lose Ethan. But maybe it was too late now anyway, she didn’t even know what point in their relationship they really were at.            

“Has he told you yet?” Sienna interrupted her thoughts.

“Hi Sienna. No, I still have no idea what we’re doing tonight.”

“Oh, that’s so romantic. For sure he has something incredibly special planned for the two of you.”

Casey tried to maintain a cheerful façade even though she actually felt like crying. But Sienna’s enthusiasm was also kind of sweet, so she managed a smile.

“You seem more excited than I am.”

“I’m hosting a lonely-hearts roomie dinner tonight, so at least let me enjoy the romance in your life.”

Casey felt bad that she was being dishonest with her friend. It was silly, but she would rather spend the night at the movies on her own and then sleep in an on-call room than admit to her friend that Ethan wasn’t going to take her out on a date. Besides, talking about it would make it more real: their relationship was probably on the rocks.

 A busy morning at the clinic kept Casey occupied and gave her no opportunity to dwell on her misery. As she was preparing an IV for a patient, she suddenly sensed someone right behind her.

“Dr. Valentine, can you please run some tests on this patient and then get back to me as soon as possible?”

Usually her favorite baritone voice quickened her heartbeat, but today it sounded businesslike and not appealing at all. When she turned around Ethan didn't meet her gaze. Instead, he just thrust a patient chart into her hand and was gone before Casey even had the chance to respond.

 At first, she stood there with her mouth open, unable to move, a dreadful feeling spreading through her chest. She had barely seen him all week and that was all she got?

When her vision started to get blurred by tears, she quickly ran to a supply closet, locked the door and sank to the floor.

 What now? She couldn’t decide whether she was more sad or mad. How could it be, that things went wrong so fast after everything they had been through together? And how dare he talk to her like a random intern, shoving that patient file into her hands so rudely. He wasn't even her boss anymore.

She still held the chart clutched to her chest and now wanted to check what seemed so urgent. But what she saw didn't make any sense. There was only a last name on it and an address, but everything else was blank. As she turned the page her heart took a leap. She wiped away a few tears and stared at the blank piece of paper. Two words stared back at her.

Dinner tonight?

When she finally remembered to breathe again, she flipped back to the first page and now the pieces were falling into place.

Sorellina, Huntington Ave.

She knew the name had sounded familiar. “Sorellina” wasn't a patient's name; it was the name of a fancy Italian restaurant in the Back Bay. To be sure she pulled out her phone and searched the internet. And what she found there brought a bright smile to her face.

 …the ultimate destination if you're looking to really impress a date…

.. one of the most romantic spots in the city…

…awesome place for date nights…

 So he didn’t forget after all! But why the strange behavior? Some things didn’t add up. You don’t get a reservation like this one day in advance. He must have planned this weeks ago. A lot had changed since and now maybe he just wanted to give them one last shot? He wouldn’t be so heartless to dump her on Valentine’s day, would he?

Casey was totally confused. Was she just misinterpreting the whole situation? But she couldn’t be that paranoid. Something was brewing and she was determined to find out tonight, no matter what. This time she would confront him and for once she wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily.

But first she had to get through the day somehow, and she had to head home during her lunchbreak to choose a breathtaking dress. And pack an overnight bag, just in case. Not to forget the special brand of scotch she had ordered for Ethan. And she had to tell Sienna. And…

Okay! First of all, she had to calm down and concentrate on her work. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she took a pen out of her pocket and wrote below Ethan’s message.

Tell me when and where and I’ll be there 💕

After leaving the supply closet she randomly grabbed two other files, placed hers in between and handed them to an intern. “Please get this to Dr. Ramsey immediately.” Then she went back to her patient, who was still waiting for his IV.

The day seemed to drag on endlessly. In the afternoon she found the piece of paper out of the fake patient file in her coat pocket.  

Dinner tonight?

Tell me when and where and I’ll be there 💕

my office, 7 pm 😊

 He had even drawn an emoji! Smiling she added one more line.

Dessert at your place?

Then she quickly ran upstairs, sneaked into Ethan’s office, and put the piece of paper onto his desk. Her eyes fell on the big clock on the wall: 4 pm! Three more hours to go.

 *******

Ethan sat behind his desk, already dressed in his tux, trying to focus on some files. But instead of working, he kept repeating in his head what he wanted to say tonight.

It was ridiculous. Usually, he gave speeches in front of hundreds of fellow doctors and here he was, being nervous about talking to one single woman. The difference was that he felt very qualified to talk about his profession, but he was totally insecure when it came to talking about his feelings. With Casey, he wasn't Dr. Ramsey, a famous and respected diagnostician; with her, he was simply Ethan, a man struggling with the changes in his life.

The sound of high heels echoed through the hallway and announced Casey's arrival. Trying to calm his nerves Ethan busied himself with his paperwork as she entered the office. He didn't raise his head, instead he just glanced at her over the rims of his glasses. As he did, she put her hands on her hips, pushing the winter coat aside to give him full view of her stunning dress. And it had the desired effect. The small piece of black nothingness took his breath away.

 “Dr. Ramsey, don't you think it's inappropriate to look at a colleague that way?”

He swallowed hard, but he wouldn’t let her tease him like that.

“Dr. Valentine, don't you think it's inappropriate to wear something like that in your workplace?”

She smirked at him.

“Not as much as taking it off right here in your office.”

Defeated he shook his head, a smile showing at the corners of his mouth. He had to fight the urge to leap over his desk and take her right there against the office door, but instead he only sighed deeply and reached for his coat. This had to wait.

“We better get going or I don't know what I'll do!”

Together they left the office and walked to his car, holding hands. But despite their little banter just now there was an odd silence between them.

*******

The restaurant really was the perfect setting for a special date. Casey was overwhelmed and also kind of intimidated by the atmosphere. To her, it felt more like a first date with a guy she had a crush on than a dinner with the man she had been dating for month. And Ethan seemed equally self-conscious. But after some champagne, they both loosened up and had a really great time.

Almost.

Casey knew Ethan too well by now not to notice that something was strange about him tonight. She couldn’t shake that nagging feeling in her gut.

Back in his apartment, after she had given him her gift, he sat down on the couch with a serious face and asked her to sit down as well.

“I have something for you, too”

Blushing slightly, he handed her a small box and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I wanted to…, I mean this is… Oh, just open it and then I’ll explain!”

Carefully, she lifted the lid of the box and saw, lying on a tiny silk cushion, a key. From the looks of it, she assumed it was the key to his apartment. Casey gave Ethan a questioning look and waited for the promised explanation. But it didn’t come. Ethan seemed uncomfortable and pinched the bridge of his nose. Finally, he just blurted it out.

“Want to move in with me?”

Of all the things she had expected him to say, this certainly wasn’t on the list. But why now? Hundreds of different thoughts whirled through Casey’s head all at once. At first she just stared at him, then she burst into tears. For a long time Ethan looked at her helplessly, finally he ran a hand through his hair in frustration and murmured: “Obviously not.”

At that, Casey’s head snapped up. “No, no, no! I do, of course I do!” She wiped some tears from her face and explained between occasional sobs.

“The thing is: Whenever I imagined moving in with you, I got sad about not living with my friends anymore. And now I’ve just realized it doesn’t matter because in a couple of weeks they’ll all be gone anyway, scattered across the country. I’m going to miss them so much. And since I don’t know where I am going to be, there’s no point in moving in with you either.”

She shook her head, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess, it just seems that everything is falling apart. This morning I wasn’t even sure whether you want to break up with me or not and I thought that…”

“Whoa, hold it right there. What on earth are you talking about?”

From Ethan’s shocked expression Casey could tell that it had obviously never occurred to him to break up. Slightly embarrassed she continued in an unsteady voice.

“I mean, the way you’ve been acting lately, especially this morning, you’ve been so rude….”

Ethan gently caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, wiped away her tears, and sighed.

“Oh Casey, I’m so sorry. But you know me; you know that I hate talking in front of patients. And I had a lot on my mind; I’ve been nervous all day about our date.”

He smiled shyly and shook his head. Then his gaze darkened again, guilt clearly written on his face. His brows furrowed, and he backed away a little.

“Although you’re right that I’ve been putting some distance between us lately. But I needed clarity about the whole job situation. And us. All my life I’ve planned everything three steps ahead and then suddenly it felt like I was losing control. I know I can’t ask you to stay because you have to finish your residency at one of the best hospitals in the country. Thus, I have tortured myself to figure out how we can make things work and I’ve been miserable all this time. Until I realized the answer is fairly simple.”

Casey couldn’t believe that they had both been so distraught for weeks, and instead of sharing and confiding in each other, they were just brooding over the challenges ahead, each to their own. Slowly, the uneasy feeling inside her stomach began to dissipate, although she had no idea what he was talking about.

“What answer?”

Ethan took her hand and he gently drew circles on the back of it with his thumb, his eyes following its movement.

“Edenbrook has been my home for almost 12 years now, and if they take it away from me, what else is there? Naveen, of course, and my father nearby, but other than that ….”

All this time Casey held the box with the key in one hand. Now he took it from her and raised the key to eye level. Her gaze wandered back and forth between the key and Ethan. He cleared his throat in search of words, but they didn’t come. Her heart hammered in her chest, the tension almost unbearable. Finally, his blue eyes met hers and he found the courage to speak, his voice husky and low.

“This isn’t just the key to my apartment, Casey. This key means I want to live with you, wherever that may be.”

His last words were only a whisper. “If you’ll have me, that is.”

Casey couldn’t even begin to grasp what it all meant. She would be able to apply to any hospital in the country and Ethan would be with her. Live with her.

An overwhelming feeling of happiness spread through her body.

“You really would do this for me?”

“No, if I’m honest I’m doing this not for you but for myself. I don’t want to go back to being that grumpy cynic I once was before I met you. I’m lost without you.”

The full meaning of his words sent a prickling sensation down her spine, but she was also amused.

“Ethan, you’re one of the most famous and respected physicians, you’ve managed perfectly fine without me for 36 years.”

Ethan put down the key and the box from her hand and took both her hands, his gaze intense.

“But it’s taken me 36 years to find out what it means to be genuinely happy.”

Those last words took all her breath right out of her and her heart was ready to explode. His eyes pierced hers as he waited for a response.

He moved closer und squeezed her hands tightly, his eyes still dark.

“So, what do you say?”

She couldn’t resist the temptation to mess with him.

“Let me get this straight: You’re telling me, if I said no, there would be no one to tell you if you’re acting like a goddam diva again?”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth realizing what she was getting at. “Probably.”

Grinning she went on. “And who would be there to help you with your social media accounts?”

“Nobody.”

Ethan’s eyes began to light up as she moved onto his lap, mischief in her smile.

“And there would be no one who would dare to tease you?”

“Right.”

Their faces were now only a breath away.

“And nobody there to make you pancakes?”

“Exactly. What would become of me?”

Her mouth moved to the side of his neck. After a line of soft kisses, she started nibbling on his earlobe and whispered. “And no one, who would do this?”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not hard to find someb…”

She quickly backed away and punched his arm playfully. “Don’t you dare!”

Ethan was now gleaming all over his face. He tucked a finger under her chin and gently nudged her nose with his. “So is that a YES?”

“Do I even have a choice?”

“Not really!”

And then at last his lips found hers, first slowly, barely touching, until they both gave in and melted into each other. All the tension of the day, all the pent-up emotions of the past weeks fell off and there was only him and her. While the kisses grew more and more urgent, his hands started to roam over her body and slowly he unzipped her dress. As his warm hand gently slid down her back, Casey felt his hot breath on her ear.

“If I remember correctly, you promised me dessert.”

“We already had a selection of delicious Italian desserts.”

“But I’m still very hungry. And first of all, this dress has to go. The sight of it has been tormenting me all evening.”

*****

The bedroom was almost dark. Ethan lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He was unable to put his mind to rest after the events of the day. He turned over to watch the stunning woman sleeping next to him. The moonlight on her face made her even look more beautiful. From now on, he would have the privilege of waking up to this sight every morning. That thought alone made his heart leap.

Gently, he draped the sheets over her shoulder, brushed her hair out of her face and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek; always careful not to wake her.

Smiling down at her he whispered. “I love you, Casey Valentine.”

Never before had these words left his lips. And now didn’t even count either because she couldn’t hear them. He had tried to tell her many times, but the moment never seemed right. Today would have been the perfect occasion, but he had chickened out again.

It was absurd. They had started to plan their future together. Why was it so hard? Three simple words!

Laying back down he whispered, more to himself.

“I’m going to tell you. Soon.

Maybe tomorrow.”

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

Thank you if you have made it so far.

This piece has really been a challenge, it took me forever. I’ve changed it a couple of times and I am still not quite satisfied, but at some point you just have to let go.

Tagging seperately.

[littlebitoffanfic]

The Warriors Smile

Fandom: Pocahontas Characters: Kocoum, Kekata, Nakoma, Pocahontas Relationship: Kocoum AN: So I remember seeing this request for Kocoum, but I cant seem to find the specific request. I remember it being about him not dying and the reader traveling with John and the reader falling in love with Kocoum and respecting his culture, but the details are foggy. Im not sure if this was what you had in mind, but I hope it satisfies you for now and if ive totally miss remembers the request or its not what you were looking for, just let me know 😊

  You didn’t like being on deck when it was such a storm. You were useful as a medic, but your training didn’t extend to battle the harsh sea. But after John had jumped overboard for Thomas, you came to make sure they weren’t injured. John saw your sour face when the men started talk of killing anyone you came across in the new world. After he came down from the crows nest, he tried to cheer you up, not knowing that you only stayed on deck to speak with him. “You look like you were the one who fell overboard.” He leaned against the banister, his face scrunched up in fake concern. “I wish you wouldn’t call them savages.” You mumbled to John, not having enough energy to fight with the rest of the crew. “But they are.” He looked at you perplexed. “Besides, everyone else on this ship calls them sav-“ “You’re not everyone else, John. And they look up to you. You cant have not noticed Thomas following you around like a shadow.” You saw the smirk pull at his lips meaning he knew what you were talking about. 

“He listens to you, too. Hes becoming pretty knowledgeable with medical stuff because he follows you around like a child.” John fires back, and he was right. But only because you warned Thomas that you might not always be around and he needed to know enough in case something happened to you. “Just, just remember. They’re humans too.” You huffed, wanting to move the subject back. “But they’re different.” John kicks off a boot to pour out some water. “They aren’t as different as you think, John. We’re different. Most people on this ship are different. Different eye colour, hair colour, height, weight, built.” You wave to the crew who weren’t paying any head as they secured the deck. “But i bet they have hearts that beat, lungs that breath and blood that runs red.” “Maybe I’ll find you a savage for you to find out.” John smirks at you as he tries to lighten the mood, but the moment he saw you weren’t impressed, he stopped. John could normally read you like a book. You had bother grown up together, and he pulled you along on his adventures many times. He got into fights and you patched him up. You had warned him that you were just a nurse, and one day you might not be able to patch him up. But he dismissed you as a ‘rambling wife’. Not that you were married, or anywhere near a relationship. In truth, you were sure you two would rip each others throats out if left alone too long. But people often assumed there was more than friendship. “I truly hope you are joking, John. No one deserves to die for simply being alive.” You shake your head, disappointed as you stand, rubbing your arms. You turn to disappear back into your quarters, hoping your words might have some weight with the man.

------time skip ---------------

 When John disappeared from the landing party, you found yourself wondering into the surrounding woods. You knew you would be chastised for it later, but you didn’t care. It was so beautiful. you wouldn’t go too far, venturing about 15 minutes away from the others until you found a clearing. The way the sun shone down on the forests was like something out of a fairy-tale. You were so lost in the beauty of it all that you almost didn’t notice the small chirping coming from the ground beside you. Glancing down, you saw a small bird. It had a yellowy orange chest, with a blue back and black markings. Crouching down, you wondered why a bird would be this close to the ground. It seemed dangerous. Unless something was wrong with him? The bird began to jump to you, but you saw its left leg wasn’t taking any pressure and it hobbles a little. “Shhh.” You picked up the small bird with ease and sat down with your legs crossed, your skirt making a small nest for the animal to sit in. “I think you have dislocated your leg, sir.” You mused, gently wrapping the bird in the towel and making sure you could still get to the leg . You grabbed some small bandages you used for fingers and smaller cuts and folded it in half so it was the length of the birds leg. You wrapped the small leg till you felt it had enough padding without hindering the bird too much and then tied it up. “All done. My fee will be in the mail.” You laugh to yourself, even though there was no one around to hear your little joke. You unwrap the bird, which tweets happily. “Lets get you somewhere high.” Getting to your feet, you hold the bird in your hands, leaving the towel and your medical supplies on the floor as you searched the surrounding trees till you found a branch about the hight of you eyes. Taking the bird over, you place it on the tree, but the branch wasn’t thick enough and you didn’t think it was high enough either. “Higher?” You ask, even though the bird has no say as you pick it up again, venturing to another tree which was higher up. The bird didn’t even move from your hand as you reached up to let it go onto the branch. It started tweeted, looking up to a near by tree. You followed its eyes and saw a small bundle of sticks and twigs nestled between two thick branches. The problem was that the nest was about 10 foot off the ground. You groaned, walking up to the tree and looking up at your new destination. There was a branch that you could grab onto, but you didn’t know if you had the upper body strength to pull yourself up and hold yourself with just one free hand. Moving the bird into one hand, you reached up and grabbed the branch. You managed to walk up the tree and pull yourself up till you were eye level with the branch you were holding, but your arm was shaking. You were almost parallel to the branch as you glanced down, seeing you were now a good 5 foot off the ground.  Before you could even reach out and attempt to put the bird up to its nest, your arm spasmed and you lost your grip. You didn’t even have a chance to yell as you fell, preparing yourself to crash on the ground. Until arms caught you. Your eyes had been scrunched shut, expecting pain, so your mind immediately thought John or one of the others had found you. Opening your eyes, you forgot how to breath. The man who had caught you was unbelievably handsome. Strong cheek bones and jaw line with dark brown, intelligent eyes that stared back at your own. You knew your surprise was painted on your face, but his was stoic, like a warrior. He had long hair with shaven sides, like a mohawk, but the hair fell to the left and down to his shoulder, and white feathers adorned the back of his head. The man lowered you to the ground gently. You both watched each others every movement, trying to work out if the other was dangerous or not. Just because you refused to call them savages didn’t mean you trusted them completely. You were on their land, their homes. They were within their rights to chase you off or punish you if they saw fit. The bird chirped in your hands. Apparently, you had tried to protect the bird from the fall rather than try held yourself. Great self-preservation skills. The man took a few steps back from you but before you could ask why, he ran at you. You let out a small yelp, turning away to try protect yourself. But then you heard a grunt. Looking through your hair, you saw he had ran right past you. And up the tree. He was holding himself on the branch, managing to get enough momentum to get past the lower branch and brace himself on it with a straight elbow on one hand. The sheer strength in his arm was shown by the muscles. He reached out to you, eyes darting to the bird. You instantly understood and went to him, placing the bird carefully in his outstretched hand. He rose it to the nest and the bird jumped happily into its home. You smiled widely, happy that the animal could recover from its injury in its home from a little while. Perhaps you could bring it some food later. The man looked back to you, and you caught his eyes. Despite your smile, his face stayed stoic. Taking a step back, you allowed the man space to jump back down, landing elegantly before straightening back up. He towered over you, and you suddenly felt rather intimidated by his presence as your eyes fell to the red markings on his chest. Two clawed paws. Like a bears or wolfs. You opening your mouth, about thank him when you heard voices calling your name. Whipping to look over your shoulder to where the voices came from, you started to panic. If they found this man, he was dead. Looking back to him, you saw his eyes darting to the sound as well, his stance strong. In fact, you could see that he was growing more hostile with every call. “you need to go.” You whispered, drawing his attention back to you. But his eyes showed confused. He couldn’t understand you. You tried make a shooing motion with your hands, but he only grew more perplexed. Eventually, you were drawn to more drastic measures. You placed your hands on his bare chest and pushed him back behind the tree. He stumbled slightly, before his stance became really aggressive. But he was out of sight now. You backed off, pressing your fingers to your lips as you silently begged him to stay hidden. And just in time. “[y/n]!? Where have you been?” Thomas called out to you and you flashed the man a small smile before walking back to your items. “Frolicking through the flowers, are we?” Ben laughed but ti quickly stopped. “Whats that on your hand, lass?” Looking down, you saw some of the red paint from the stranger had rubbed off onto your hand. “Oh, I found an injured bird.” You wiped the evidence on your skirt as you gathered up your things. “We better get you back.” Thomas looked to the sky, the sun lower in the sky. “Okay. I’ll follow.” You nod, throwing your bag over your shoulder. The two men retreated back into the woods, you following behind. But not before you could steal a glance back to the tree, seeing the stranger watching. You smiled at him before turning back. You heard the men grumbling about having to dig for gold. You would certainly make sure Ratcliff had a piece of your mind if he thought for a second you’d be digging. however, the moment you got back, all hell broke loose. Guns were firing, and crys that there was savages. Ducking behind a waggon, you saw them firing at some people in the trees, and they hit one. That might have been the end of it, but then you saw the man from the forest. He scooped up his fallen alley and carried him back into the wood as they all retreated. Stuck in a conflict, you stayed hidden as you thought. You owed him something. Not your life, but he had saved you from a broken hip or a concussion. And you knew they probably wouldn’t be able to treat a gun wound. You thought of the man, suffering in agony before dying with no understanding of what had hit him. So you did the unthinkable. Racing into the woods, you followed them, until they reach a village. You almost collapse when you see the colony of small huts. The crew would slaughter them as sure as day. A deep sickness filed your stomach as you press your hand over your mouth. You took an oath to help people, not hurt them. Holding the strap of your bag, you take a shaking breath. You could very well be walking into certain death, but that man needed your help. Taking a deep breath, you circled the outside of the village until you saw them taking the injured man into a hut. That must be either his home, or a medical place. You would bet the latter. Slipping inside, the group were too preoccupied with the wounded man to notice someone who wasn’t like them had entered. You felt like you had just entered a sleeping lions den. So you cleared your throat. Like lions, they turned and bore weapons at you as if they were fangs. “No, I want to help.” You held your hands up to show you meant no harm, but the men couldn’t understand you. You looked around, trying to figure out a way to show them you wanted to help him. Pulling the bag open, you pulled out the bandage you had. Showing it to them that it wasn’t a weapon, you began to wrap it around your arm. “Help.” You repeated, pointing to the gunshot wound. Their eyes narrowed, but none protest as you moved closer to the injured as you unravel the bandage from your arm. You would need it. You inspected the gunshot wound. There was no way he could survive this without medical help. But you would need the take the bullet out, clean the wound and sew him shut. You didn’t notice the chief looking to the man you had met not an hour ago. There was a silent understanding between them to let you be unless you caused any issues. And the shaman had said he didn’t know how to heal such wounds. “I need to take the bullet out.” You spoke, knowing they couldn’t understand everything you said. You rummaged to the bottom of your bag and found the spare bullets that the men had dropped. Pulling them out, you showed the man you assumed to be the leader one of the bullets between your thumb and pointing finger. You then mimicked how the men held the guns and made a quiet gun shot noise before showing them the bullet flying to his wound. Eyes widened as they realises what you were saying. “We need to take it out.” You pull out your bullet remover. It was a relatively new invention in the medical word, only about 50 years old but it was a key part of your tool kit. But you didn’t know it they would understand that. Your eyes flickered to the head healer, who looked to chief. A breeze came through the tent, making you shudder while the small group closed their eyes for a brief moment. When the chief opened his eyes, he nodded to the head healer who looked back to you. “Save him.” He told you, making your eyes widen at his English. But you nodded, and got to work. They let you work without question but with watchful eyes. You warned it would hurt, and apologised. But the man gritted his teeth and managed to stay still. Bullets were kind of a speciality of yours. It wasn’t something you were proud of, but it was a fact. the bullet was out with 5 minutes. But that didn’t mean it was over just yet. You sewed up the wound, trying to make it as neat as you could. “You’re doing really well. Im nearly done, I promise.” You glance to the injured man, and you could see the relief in his eyes. “Why did you come?” Their leader asked you. “To help. Im a medic. I took a vow to heal people where I could.” You answer truthfully as you wipe away the blood from around the wound and placing a gauge over it. “Your people caused this.” The chiefs words made you flinch. “My people are ignorant and arrogant. I am not like them. I don’t want a war or anyone to get hurt.” You shook your head, feeling the guilt in your stomach. “Why?” he knelt next to you, his eyes watching your face closely. “All blood is red. Its my job to heal that.” You look at him, hoping he might understand your reasoning more than you did. “We cannot let you leave.” The chief stated as he stood, but you had prepared for this. “if you don’t, they will come to find me.” You answer, looking up at him. “Then how do we know we can trust you?” he asked, his chin rising as he spoke to look down at you. “You cant.” You answered honestly, your eyes dropping. “But I can trade you supplies. Like these. To help if you do get into fights. I don’t have much, but it will help you.” The chief regarded you for a moment, his mind thinking over your deal. “Are they dangerous?” The leader asked you as you focused than you needed to on tying the bandage. Pressing your lips together in a straight line, you nodded once. “Leave by night fall. Do not return.” He spoke with authority and you nodded, thankful he was allowing your freedom. “Thank you.” You bowed your head to him out of respect as you packed your things. “We will fight this enemy, but we cannot do it alone. Kocoum-“ the chief was answered as the stranger from earlier stood and followed him. “Send messengers to every village in our nation. We will call on our brothers to help us fight.” He walked out the door, the stranger from earlier at his side as he addressed his people. “These white men are dangerous. No one is to go near them.” You sat back on your heels, unsure what to think. Had you condemned your friends? But these people had a right to know, to protect themselves, didn’t they? You were conflicted, torn between the right thing to do. The lead healer hummed a little, regarding you. You held out a spare gauge and bandage to him, which he took along with a bottle of anti-septic. “Its incredible, how calm he was.” You look at the man, who lay with his eyes closed as if in a trance. “I will speak on your healing once it is done.” He muses, but his eyes danced with some amusement as you smiled at him. He pushed a bowl of water to you so you could wash the blood off your hands. Just as you were drying your hands, the stranger from earlier stepped back in. Kocoum. “I hope to meet you again, child. But not in such circumstances.” The healer smiled, nodding to you before he continued his chant from earlier, signalling it was your time to leave. Kocoum snuck you out the back, and guided you through the forest in silence. You followed without question, occasionally falling behind a little but always catching up until you saw the wooden logs being hauled up to build a fortress. Placing a hand on Kocoums arm, you stopped him. “You shouldn’t go any further.” You told him, your eyes screaming apologies to him as you stepped in front. “But im glad we met again, even if the circumstances were awful.” Kocoum nodded, and you were sure if he was agreeing with you or simply acknowledging your words. “Goodbye.” You step away from him, and he gives you a small bow, before he moves behind a tree, hiding. When you emerge, it feels like the entire crew fauns over you, worried. But Ratcliffe suddenly appears, parting the crew like a sea as he regards you. “Where did you run off to?” he asks, his voice not showing any concern for your wellbeing but probably for your lack of labour. “The guns and fighting scared me. I ran to the woods for cover and got lost.” You lied. “And did you… find anything?” Ratcliffe prys, leaning down as if to intimidate you but you stood your ground. “No.” You shook your head, not breaking under his pressure. he huffed, demanding everyone gets back to word before retreating to his quarters. As the crew disperses, you steal a glance to the woods, unable to see Kocoum anymore.

  -------------time skip ------------

You told yourself that you were just going to feed the bird. That’s the only reason you were going back to that clearing. But you weren’t. That man had plagued your sleep, and you wanted to see him again. walking through the forest, you wondered if you were lost, until the clearing came into view. Digging into your bag, you grabbed the paper bag of bread pieces and seeds you had managed to get your hands on. Walking up to the tree, the bird appeared on the lower branch that you could reach, apparently recognising you and tweeting happily. You took a palm full of the food and held it up to the creature, who happily jumped onto your wrist to peck at the food. “Thank you.” A voice spoke from behind you, making you jump. But when you saw it was Kocoum, you relaxed. You had never heard him speak before. “How is he doing?” You ask, going back to your task of feeding the bird. You could just leave the seeds on the branch, but you wanted to be doing something. “He grows stronger every day.” Kocoum informs you. “That’s good. I cant imagine the fear he must have felt.” You muse, as the bird jumps onto your fingers, hopping across your hand to stand on your palm to peak at the food. You were grateful because you could lower your arms, which were hurting a little. “Why did you follow?” Kocoum suddenly asked as you turned and sat at the bottom of the tree. In truth, you knew it was risky. Any instinct you had told you to run away, but you were so interested by him that all you really wanted to do was talk. “I already told you. I don’t like seeing others suffer.” You move the seeds into one hand, freeing your right hand. With the back of your pointing finger, you stroke the birds head, smiling. “Plus, I own you for saving me from a nasty fall.” He didn’t laugh with you, but you didn’t mind. You were a stranger to him, an enemy even. Kocoum stayed standing, but backed away so he wasn’t looming over you. It suddenly dawned on you that you knew his name, yet he didn’t know your own. “Im [y/n].” you suddenly say, wanting to right that wrong. “Kocoum.” He pressed a fist to his chest. “I know.” You smile, amused by the birds trust in you as you petted it. Looking up, you saw Kocoum was confused and, perhaps, suspicious. “I heard the others call you by that name.” Your explanation seemed to ease his suspicions, but not completely erase them. He sat with you for an hour or so, and you told him about your home. You didn’t want to ask about his own in case he thought you were going to relay information. When you noticed that your absents would soon be reported, you stood. Placing the bird back in the tree, you told Kocoum goodbye, but he followed you. At first, it made you a little uneasy, until you reached the edge of the forest and it dawned on you that he was making sure you got back safely. Before you could turn and thank him, he was gone. For the next few days, you found yourself running off to the clearing, and most times he was there. There was the occasion that he wasn’t, but he seemed to like your little meeting. You were both suspicious of each other, but it seemed to ease out as you both spoke. Well, you spoke and he listened. He would ask questions, and seemed interested in you, but didn’t seem like much of a talking. You joked about it, saying that it was fine because you could talk the ear off anyone, so you could easily make up for it. And, at the, he smiled. You nearly fainted. In the setting sun, in this beautiful clearing with this handsome man, he smiled at you. Your legs were jelly as you couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks. “Your voice like bird song.” Kocoum’s words would be the death of you, you were sure of it. Now a blushing mess, stumbling over your words, you knew it was time to head home. He accompanied you as always, and yet he stayed a little close than normal. Just before you reached the outskirts, he grabbed your hand. “Stay safe.” He whispered, and you could see the corner in his eyes. “You too.” You returned the concern before the two of you parted.

-------time skip ----------

Whatever was going on with John, you were worried. Pacing by your tent, you wondered where he had ran off to at such an hour. He should know better than to do this. You didn’t want to confide in anyone in case they told Ratcliffs and he got angry. In fact, you hadn’t seen Thomas around either recently. Stopping, you glance around. Something felt off. Suddenly, the calmness of the night was broken by screams. Grabbing your medical bag, you followed the others. Thomas came running, crying out for help, that John had been attacked and taken. You rushed to calm him but the others got there first, demanding to know what happened. “I kill one of them.” Thomas whispered, swaying back and forth before dropping his gun. “You- you did what?!” You nearly shriek, but managed to keep it down as the men gathered weapons. “I shot one. They took John because I killed one of their own.” He scrunched his eyes up, but when he opened them again, you were gone. Running into the forest, you felt yourself trembling as you raced to the tribe, treason be damned. Maybe you could help, or exchange something for John. You didn’t know. “[y/n]!” A voice called out, making you nearly fall over as you stopped, heart beating so loud as you saw a woman running through the forest to you. She stopped when she saw you had noticed her. “Kekata told me to find you. He said… you could help Kocoum.” She seemed unsure as she spoke, her eyes darting around. “He- He was the one shot?” You whisper in disbelief. And she nods. You followed her as she raced back to the hut where you had went to heal the first man. Sneaking around the outside of the village, you both managed to slip inside without notice. Kekata sat by Kocoum side, who was still. You were praying he was asleep. Passing Nakoma, you raced to his side. “It isn’t as the first one was.” Kekata spoke to you quickly, and you could hear the worry in his voice. “No, its in a more dangerous area.” You nodded, confirming his worries. A hand was placed on your shoulder, making you turn to Kekata. “I wanted to give Kocoum a fighting chance. But I do not expect a miracle from you.” his words sunk in as he stood, preparing to leave. You didn’t know what was going on. What was going to happen. “I do not trust the white men. But I trust you. you might save one life, but I suspect blood will still fall at sunrise. Stay here. This is my safe haven for you, for what you have done for us. A debt repaid. Do not come out of this hut. Do you understand me?” Kekata spoke with such urgency and hints of aggression that all you could do was nod. “If he wakes, sound the horn.” Kekata draws your attention away from Kocoum to look the elder. He was standing at the entrance, gesturing to the corner. You didn’t follow his direction, instead noticing Nakoma, who seemed confused and almost fearful that Kekata was leaving you alone with an injured Kocoum. “But I do not know if it will stop the war.” War. The word hit you like a bolt of lightning as the realising dawned on you. You knew what would happen now, but you couldn’t think about it. You just had to focus on saving Kocoum as the two left the hut with no further words. Putting on your calm façade, you told yourself it was just another patient. Your hands shook a little more than normal, and you paused before you went near the wound. But once you got to work, you were immersed. All the items you had given them were laid out to your side, along with your own and 2 bowls of water. Time seemed to drag, and you felt sick, but you pushed through. You heard things happening outside the hut, the warriors marching to battle, but blocked it out until there was silence. Working by candle light, you blinked away an odd tear and focused. Maybe, if Kocoum did wake, you could spare John too. Then its not a life for a life. Shaking away the grim thoughts, you worked through till you heard the morning chirping of birds. It was still mostly dark out. Once you were finished, you sat back. The cloth you had been using to clean the wound was bloody, and you didn’t want to use it any more. Ripping a piece of your shirt, you knew it was freshly cleaned this evening. The first bowl of water was more blood than water now, so you moved on to the fresh bowl and used the rag to carry water and run it over the wound to clean it. You went to the water and wet another tore bit of your shirt before coming up and sitting beside his head to clean his brow. Your eyes darted to the paint on his chest, but you didn’t dare touch it. It wasn’t your place to remove that sort of thing. You didn’t speak, not needing to offer any comforting words to anyone, but the silence was near unbearable as you waited for something to happen. For war to break out? For Kocoum to wake? You really couldn’t put your finger on it. After what felt like a millennium, you noticed his eyes were moving behind his eyelids. You held your breath, your lips pressed together in a harsh line as you tried to keep yourself calm. However, the moment his eyes fluttered open, you broke. Tears of relief streamed down your cheeks as you pressed a hand over your mouth to hid your sobbing. The fear which had had your body in a tight grasp eased the moment he woke, and you had done so well keeping yourself calm while you had been alone that you were overwhelmed. His eyes found you, and he began to sit up, despite the pain he must be feeling. Leaning on his left elbow and forearm, he pushed himself up into a sitting position before you could even talk. “Don’t sit up, it will be painf-“ you couldn’t finish your sentence as a large hand slipped behind your neck and he drew you to his lips. The moment his warm lips met your own, you were a goner. The nurse had left you, replaced with the girl who was screaming with excitement as he kissed you. The kiss was intense, but controlled and carful, just like Kocoum. He controlled every aspect and, if you had been standing, your knees would have been weak. It was so perfect, like a dream which you wished to never wake from. Some part of you was convinced you had falling asleep by his side and you were dreaming all this. You reached up to his face, your fingers gently grazing across his cheek before mirroring his own hold on you by slipping your hand around the back of his head to just above the base of his neck. with your other hand, you gently wrap your hand around his wrist, your thumb pressing against the veins, feeling the pulse beneath the skin. A small shiver ran through your body as you moved closer, running your hand along his arm and to his chest. Pressing an open palm above his heart, you could feel the steady beat. Pulling back, you felt the air flood into your lungs and the tent suddenly seemed to much bigger and brighter. You couldn’t help the red in your cheeks, or the smile on your lips as you look at the man who had stolen your heart from the very moment he had caught you. Much to your surprise, you saw a smile tug at his lips, his eyes dancing with a joy you had never seen before. No one had ever looked at you like that. He looked so happy, so full of life. Suddenly, what was happened beyond the tent hit you like a wave as you jolted back. “We have to tell them you’re alive.” You suddenly say, and you see the happiness be replaced with concern and confusion. “They think you’re dead. They are going to kill John in revenge but Ratcliffes marching to war with them.” You began to panic again as you turn to where Kekata had pointed before he left. In the corner was a horn. Moving from his side, you grabbed the horn. Turning back to Kocoum, you knew you couldn’t ask him. He was already moving way too much and you were terrified his stitches wouldn’t hold. Getting to your feet, you went to the mouth of the hut and looked up at the blue sky, praying it wouldn’t see red today. Taking a deep breath, you raised the horn to your mouth and blew. The sound was deafening but you pushed through for a solid 10 seconds before lowering it. You didn’t know what it would do, or who could hear it. Perhaps you were too late. Some leaf’s rustled as a wind ran through them in your direction, but what you felt was not the wind you knew. It was a small gust, and it seemed to run up your body, winding around your legs and waist before passing your head and fleeing, taking leaf’s with it. You stared in the direction it had went, and something told you that there was still a chance. You jumped when you felt a hand on your lower back, turning to see Kocoum standing behind you. “We need to go to them. They will need proof.” As he spoke, you knew he was right. “But, you are still healing.” You press a hand to his chest, desperate to keep the heart beating within it. “I will have time to heal when this is done.” Kocoum spoke with conviction, but you pressed firmly on his chest. “No, you could undo your stitches.” You shook your head, until a small figure appeared from beside the hut. Your eyes darted to her, nearly jumping at her sudden appearance before you recognised her as the girl from the night before, Nakoma. She looked at Kocoum as if he were a ghost, a hand pressed over her mouth before she stepped forward. “I’ll go. I’ll tell them you are alive.” She nods firmly, before turning on her heel and running off towards wherever the battle was going to happen. Hopefully, the horn was enough to cause a moment of doubt, and Nakoma would be the voice of reason. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late. You pushed your worries to the back of your mind and turned to Kocoum. “You need to rest. Please.” You take his hands in your own and guide him back into the hut and towards the mat. Despite his protests, you helped him lie back down as you chested the stitches and saw they were fine. Although, even if everything did turn out okay, you were sure you would have a battle trying to keep him still to heal. There was not much else to do, but wait.

Within an hour, Nakoma ran back. By the look on her face, it wasn’t good news. You held your breath, waiting for her verdict. Thankfully, the sound of the horn had reached Pocahontas in the forest as she ran to save John. Apparently, this was the one John had been sneaking off to see. She had manged to stop everything, even speaking sense to her father before Nakoma had appeared, telling everyone that Kocoum was alive. But then she grabbed your wrist. “Your leader, a shot hit John. Hes bleeding.” As she spoke, you felt sick to your stomach. Another bullet. Grabbing your bag, you stuffed your medical supplies in. “I’ll go. Will you stay and make sure he doesn’t move? His stitches are fresh and it could do damage.” You didn’t wait for her to respond before taking off in the direction she had came. Something guided you through the woods, until you appeared at the bottom of a hill. You saw your crew on the other side at the bottom of a sheer drop, and Kocoums tribe were on the hill. There was relief on everyone’s face from your crew at your appearance. But you were worried. You had patched John up a fair few times. Your worries were that this time, you couldn’t. Climbing the hill, the tribe parted for you as you came to John. “Another bullet, eh?” you dropped to your knees beside him. he was lying with his head on Pocahontas lap as she soothed him. “Yep, I’ve heard you’re pretty familiar with them.” He tried to laugh, but winces, holding his side where the blood was. When you saw the position of the hole in his shirt, your heart sank. Pulling away the material, your greatest fears were confirmed. “John, the entrance wound is right on top of the scar from before.” Your voice shook and, for the first time since you arrived, you felt useless. “What does that mean?” Pocahontas asked, unsure why that was an issue. “It means I cant help him here. He needs to go back to England and get it surgically removed by a doctor. I don’t have the tools or the ingredients to do it here and I’m totally useless-“ Tears welled in your eyes as you were overcame with emotions. But John interrupted you. “Hey, hey, hey. From what I heard, you’ve been very useful. Theres only so many times a sailor can patch up his ship before he has to put it to specialists, eh? And this ships taken a few waves or two over the years.” He chuckles, wincing yet again. But he soothed you immensely. “I’ll get your bandaged up, give you some stuff for the pain. Im sure Thomas will be by your side the entire way home.” You smile, reassuring both him and yourself.

-----------time skip --------------

You stood by the sea, waiting as John asked. He said she would come say goodbye, and Kocoum had agreed the same. “So, let me get this straight.” You sat, crossed legged by Johns side. “Me and you, two people who get mistaken as a couple all the time, each started a relationship with two members of a tribe who were due to be wed?” “Yeah, funny how things work out, eh.” John smirked. “Look.” Thomas, who had been standing on watch, pointed to the mist that lay thick on the forest floor this morning. You couldn’t see anything at first, until there was the silhouette of not just Pocahontas and Kocoum (you were partly annoyed that he was walking so soon), but also of at least 8 others. The crew held their breath, clutching their guns, until it was revealed the others were carrying baskets of food for the journey home. You couldn’t help but smile at the gesture. As Pocahontas came to John, you stood. But Thomas met her, taking off his hat out of respect. “Going back is his only chance. He’ll die if he stays here.” Thomas spoke with her, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. You watched the two with such amazement and respect. Powhatan and Nakoma approached. Powhatan pulled off his shawl and lay it over John. “You are always welcome here. Both of you.” He looked to you as well, making you smile with gratefulness before turning to speak only to John. “Thank you, my brother.” He smiled down at John before retreating. John said farewell to the animals, he then turn to Pocahontas. He cupped her cheek in an intimate way. He asked her to come, and she refused because she was needed by her village. But when he offered to stay, she said he needed to go. Their love would be broken by distance, and as she leaned in and kissed him, you took your leave to go see Kocoum. “Stay.” He took your hands in his own, holding them tightly against his chest as if he never wanted to let them go. You couldn’t help but smile, but you faltered in answering. Was it selfish to stay? John was leaving Pocahontas, with an open invitation back. What if something happened on the way home and they needed a medic? Were you abandoning your promise by staying here? But you were staying as a healer as well, so did that balance everything? Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt a hand clapping your back. “Sorry to interrupt.” John called over to you. the smirk on his face was not one you trusted. “You know, [y/n], I think that we need a new nurse. One whos not going to run off and heal the enemy. Not that you’re the enemy now.” He quickly added to Kocoum. “No, I think that you should be somewhere that’s peaceful, somewhere that you cant run into trouble. Like, oh say I don’t know, here? Just something to think about.” If he hadn’t been shot, you might have kicked him. Had everyone been eavesdropping this whole time? Looking back to Kocoum, you couldn’t help but beam at him. “I think that means I can stay.” You nod, bouncing on the balls of your feet with excitement. Kocoum smiled, and you heard him let out a breath that he had been holding. Something small flutters to your side, and you turn your head to see an old friend. The bird, with the blue back, was hovering beside you, chipping before flying into the sky. Something told you that you would see the little guy again. You raced to say goodbye to the crew, and Thomas promised you that he would take care of John no matter what. You told him that you believed in him. John didn’t like long goodbyes, so gave you a handshake along with a smile. “I’ll see you soon, anyway.” You smile. “oh, I’ll be back as soon as I can stand.” He joked. “You know, I would roll my eyes, but Kocoum only got stiches a day ago, and he came to stay goodbye, so I have no doubt that you men are stupid enough to do that.” You returned, swatting his arm. But soon, it was time to part. The sadness you felt from seeing the ship sail into the distance was no unfelt, but as you felt the warmth of Kocoums body beside you, you couldn’t help but be excited for this next chapter of your life. You were welcomed in the village both as a healer and Kocoum’s wife, and quickly became known as the only one who could make the warrior smile.

[aperrywilliams]

I don’t know you anymore/Part IV (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

———————

Summary: The case is resolved and Reader is exonerated, but she must now think about what to do with her life from now on.

Word Count: 4159.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences. Angst.

Warnings: References to murders, dead bodies, drug traffic, illicit activities, curses, degradation words.

A/N: This is Part IV of “I don’t know you anymore”. Thanks to everyone who read this! This will end in Part V. I don’t know how to end it yet, so if you have some ideas, share with the class!

——————–

Springtime in the city Always such a relief from winter freeze The snow was more lonely than cold if you know what I mean Everyone's got an agenda Don't stop keep that chin up you'll be alright Can you believe what a year it's been Are you still the same? Has your opinion changed?

The trip to my apartment was longer than I would have expected. Fortunately, the police officer was silent the entire time. I was in no mood to talk. Upon arriving at the building, I thanked him and immediately went up to my apartment. I just wanted to shower and go to bed. Tears were streaming from my eyes. I didn't expect to have to relive things that still seemed painful to me, nor did I expect to have to find out horrible things like the ones I had to hear.

When I was going to open the apartment door I noticed something strange: the door was closed but not locked. I tried to remember if I had forgotten to locked it when I left to the police station. When I entered I began to look for the switch to turn on the light, when I was about to reach it, I felt some arms pulling me into the apartment, one hand covered my mouth to prevent me from screaming and the other slamming the door to close it. Everything happened so fast I didn't even try to scream, I was speechless with fear and stupor.

“(Y/N), it's me… don't make any noise. I'm not going to hurt you…". There I recognized the voice of Hunter who still had not removed his hand from my mouth. "I'm going to release you, but please don't scream...". I don't know if he expected me to do something different, but I just tried to nod. After a few seconds, he released me so I could turn around to try to look at him. It was dark, but my eyes were already getting used to the gloom so I could at least make out his figure.

"What the fuck, Hunter? What is all this?. Everyone is looking for you…”. My initial stupor was quickly moving to anger and need for answers.

"I know, I know. I know the FBI was interrogation you this afternoon...".  I grab the switch of lamp settled on the hall table and turned on the light. I needed to look him in the eye.

"Well, sure they did question me. What's the list they said?... Hunter, there are dead women!... What's going on?” I said with a lot of concern.

“I can only tell you I didn’t do it. I didn't kill those women, you have to believe me..." he tried to hold my hands but I didn’t let him.

"Don't ask me to believe you because I don't even know what's going on..."

"I didn’t do it. And the list thing is a long story. The important thing now is you are in danger… we are both in danger…”

"Why me?..."

"Did you see the photos of the murdered women?... Didn't that seem familiar?" They all look like you (Y/N). Who killed them will come for you... and for me... that's why I'm here. To prevent him from doing something to you”. That was a detail I had repaired but I wanted to ignore. Neither detective Gibson nor Emily made any reference to it when they showed me the pictures, but I had noticed.

"Who is he?... what does he want?... please tell me something so I can understand...". My nerves made me finally burst into tears.

"Gabriel... he... he worked with me. He's mad at me and that's why he wants to hurt you, to hurt me. He knows we are together now and he knows I’d do anything for you…”. He couldn’t continue speaking because he was interrupted by a noise at first I didn’t know where it came from. When I was able to react and turn around, I saw a man who had kicked open the apartment’s door and was pointing a gun at us.

"Don't move!... Don't even try!... both of you stay quiet!" he was screaming frantically.

“Gabriel… hey! Man... take it easy. We're not going to do anything stupid…”. Hunter started to speak.

"Of course you’re not. I was hoping you would get my message sooner and repair this shit, but apparently it wasn't enough. I had to come to the source..."

"What the hell is this guy talking about?...". I couldn't keep my mouth shut. Not even the fear I felt at that time was able to keep me silent.

"Shut your mouth! You're the reason for this damn bitch!..." he answered screaming and pointing his gun straight at me.

"No! She isn’t to blame. I wanted to get out of this…”. Hunter tried to convince him, to avoid shooting me. He seemed determined to do it.

"For her!... You´re a fucking coward, you fell in love with this slut and forgot all the important things...". Gabriel said waving his gun and pointing it at me directly.

"She doesn't even know what we do... come on man! Leave her out of this...". Hunter yelled.

“I don't give a damn she doesn’t know. As long as she is alive you’ll remain to be a stupid coward. You even collaborated with the FBI!, you're a fucking shit!...”

"That was years ago!...". Hunter yelled back.

"I don't care if it was yesterday or 10 years ago. That’s treason and you have to pay for that…”. Gabriel said, with a voice so sinister it could make your hair stand on end just listening to it.

"Therefore, kill me. If you're so upset, kill me now!...”

"I will, but first it’s this bitch’s turn...". I froze. I felt him release the safety of the gun and aimed directly at me adjusting the view to pull the trigger. I saw my life go by in three seconds. Not even my instinct for preservation was activated. I just closed my eyes, waiting for the outcome. In this bizarre situation, I didn't care about anything anymore. I just wanted it to be over, and if that meant I had to die, well, it would have to be.

I heard the noise of a gunshot, but felt nothing in my body. I wondered if it had been so fast I was already dead and not having noticed. In the background I felt a body fall followed by a scream "Stop! FBI!” and a second shot. Another body fell to the floor. It was only then I was able to open my eyes. I looked down and saw Hunter lying across from me with a wound on his chest. Two meters ahead Gabriel was face down with a head shot and Spencer stood in the doorway still with his gun raised.

"Fuck..." was all I managed to say before my legs completely buckled and I fell to my knees on the floor.

***

I ran out of the car and saw an injured police officer at the entrance. He was the one who had brought (Y/N) and who was assigned for her protection. I approached him and he just told me he had been hit in the head but he had already called reinforcements and the suspect had come up to (Y/N) department. It was on the 3rd floor. I hurried up the stairs, I had already drawn my gun. Arriving at the floor I heard the screams of two men arguing. My heart was pumping desperately, I didn't hear (Y/N)’s voice and that terrified me. When I reached the threshold of the door I saw how one of the unsub opened fire in the direction of (Y/N), but the other unsub who was in the room managed to get in the line of fire himself receiving the shot in the chest. I yelled at the other subject to alert him to my presence and dissuade him to lower the gun, but I immediately saw he was going to shoot another shot in the same direction, so I didn’t hesitate and shot him. The impact went straight to his head, falling to the floor immediately. When I looked at (Y/N), had eyes closed and her arms instinctively raised trying to protect her face. Seeing her alive I managed to breathe again. She opened her eyes and saw what had happened around her. First she noticed the body of the man who had come between her and the gunman, then the gunman upside down on the floor and then me. She fell to her knees trembling. I lowered my gun and ran to see if she was okay.

"(Y/N)... are you okay?... Are you hurt?...". She was shaking her head but couldn't speak. I didn't know whether to get too close. If I hug her maybe it would make things worse. I just dared to kneel in front of her and touch her shoulder to see if she reacted. Suddenly she raised her head and looked at me. With eyes full of tears, she hugged me and began to cry. I held her tight to try to calm her down. "It’s ok, it's over. It's all over. It’s ok, everything will be fine…” was the only thing I could tell her. A few minutes passed and the room filled with police. Behind them Emily, J.J., Luke and Rossi who upon seeing the scene immediately knew what had happened.

I knew what was coming. Maybe we should go to the police station again. (Y/N) and I would be questioned about what happened. But first I had to get (Y/N) to calm down and check if she was okay, at least physically. Paramedics arrived on the scene at that minute.

"Hey, we need the paramedics to check you up, okay?" I said in the softest voice I could. She nodded, not saying a word yet. I got up to allow the paramedics to do their job. She looked at me with pleading eyes, as if she didn't want me to leave. "I’ll be here. I won’t leave. I'm just going to talk to my boss and wait for you to be checked, ok?”. She nodded again. I approached Prentiss to tell her what had happened.

"Reid... what the hell happened here...?" Prentiss said with visible confusion on her face.

"Emily, if I was one minute late, (Y/N) would be dead...". Prentiss snorted.

"Do you think she can stand another interrogation?" she asked looking at (Y/N).

"I don’t know. But I don't think it's a good idea to take her to the station again. Besides, we already know what happened here”. I said, trying to dissuade her from that idea.

"But she can't stay here, it's a crime scene" said Emily.

“Can we get her to stay in a hotel while…? I don't think she want to go where someone she knows and has no family here”. I said, trying to ponder options.

"It's okay. Yes. We can fix that. Will you stay with her?” She asked me.

"Only if she wants to. If not, can we ask someone from the team to stay with her for today?”. I wasn't sure if she would reject me, but I also didn't want her to be alone.

"Yes. We can. Let me know”. Emily said before turning to speak to the officers who were photographing the scene. I stood there waiting for the paramedics to finish checking on (Y/N). When they turned away from her, I asked them about her condition.

"Physically she is ok, just some bruises on her wrists, but nothing else. But she's just coming out of shock. It is important to be watched and take a tranquilizer later night. I just gave her one now, so she should be quieter” said the paramedic before retiring. I thanked him and approached (Y/N). She still looked at me with watery eyes, but she felt somewhat calmer.

"How do you feel…?" was the only thing I could think to ask. Stupid question, but I had to say something.

"I don't know... I don't even know what just happened..." she said as took a visual tour of her living room.

"Yes. I imagine you are confused. I can explain more about this, but we should go somewhere else. You cannot stay here. We’ll make an arrangement for you to stay in a hotel today, unless you want to go to a friend…”. I said, analyzing her reaction.

"No... I can't let people see me in this condition. I can go to a hostel for tonight. Spencer, don't worry about me, I can manage on my own…”. It was the first time she said my name. It was impossible my memory didn’t go through our moments together and all the times that 'Spencer' ever came out of her mouth.

“I know you can… but… I wouldn't want you to be alone… today at least. If you don't want me to come with you, someone from the team can do it. And don't worry about the hotel, it's the least the FBI can do given the events…”. Did not answer. She was silent, inspecting the place again with her eyes.

"I need to get my clothes... or some of them at least..." she said almost to herself as she went to the bedroom. I figured I should wait for her so I nodded and stood in the same place. After a few minutes she left the bedroom with a bag. I gestured to her to leave the apartment, still full of police officers and CSI’s.

I opened the passenger door for (Y/N) so she could get in and left the bag on the back seat. I started driving on the way to the hotel where she could stay, it was the same one where we were spending the night so I knew the road. Neither said a word the whole trip. I felt like she wasn't there. Absorbed in her thoughts only with her gaze fixed on the window. When we arrived, I took out her bag and we reached the lobby.

"I'm Dr. Spencer Reid of the FBI, I need the key to the room assigned to (Y/N) (Y/L/N) reserved a while ago..." I said. (Y/N) wasn't looking at me, just had her eyes on the lobby decor or whatever else caught her eye. With the key we went to the elevator and went up to the 4th floor where the room was. I opened the door and let her in first. Then I entered and put her bag on the side of the hall. I stood to the side of the door. I didn't want to be intrusive and she sure wanted me to go.

"I... I’ll go to my room. It's right downstairs. You can settle in. If you want you can take a shower and change your clothes, or maybe you want to go to bed. Maybe you're hungry, I can ask you some food to room service, just tell me if you need something…”. I said trying to be brief, but of course, that has never been my strength. She turned to look at me. I think in the last few hours this was the first time she really 'saw' me.

"Could you... stay... a while?. I’ll do all you said, but I also need to understand and someone explain what happened. I need to know why Hunter is dead now and why I'm in the middle of this. Could you do that for me?... I don't really trust anyone else right now..." she said in a muffled voice, something that deeply touched me. Her confusion mixed with sadness further plunged the stake through my stomach. After all... I had some responsibility at the origin of this tragedy.

"Yes, what you need. While you shower and change I can order something to eat. You’re ok with that?...". She nodded, taking her bag and locking herself in the bathroom. I picked up the phone and called room service to order something to eat. I sat in the armchair at the entrance to the room and took my cell phone. I had a message from J.J.

"How is she? Are you going to need someone to stay with her? We are leaving the police station and going to the hotel. Emily said we were leaving for DC tomorrow at noon”. I wrote her everything was ok for now and thanks.

(Y/N) left the bathroom a while later. She had changed her clothes. She put her bag down on the side of the wall and sat on the couch. The food had arrived, so I moved the cart closer to the couch and uncapped the containers. I took a chair and sat in front of the sofa and next to the car with the food.

"It’ll be good you eat now. Surely you haven't done it all afternoon and night…”. I said, showing her the food. She nodded. A faint smile appeared on her face when she noticed one of the dishes was a pastrami sandwich, her favorite. Or at least it was when we were together. I had also asked for a hot chocolate, which I also remembered as one of her favorite drinks when it was cold.

"Thank you. I see there are things you have not forgotten…” she said, taking the sandwich.

"I assumed it was still your favorite..." I said with a small smile.

"Aren't you going to eat...?" She asked.

"Yes, I ordered another sandwich and a coffee..." I replied pointing to the rest of the things in the cart. With that said, I started eating myself. We were silent until we finished eating. She took a napkin, wiped her lips, her hands and left it in the cart.

"Well... while the medicine effect lasts... please tell me what all this was. Don't skip details. I need to know” she said, crossing arms over her chest and resting her back completely on the couch. I nodded and started to speak. I related to her from the beginning, that is, since we were assigned the case in Quantico. I told her about the deaths, where the list had come from. Hunter's relationship with the FBI, about the ‘cleaned’ properties, drugs, his partner... everything. As I spoke I watched her reactions and her body language. While I could see how she tensed each time I added more information, I could also see that things were making sense in her mind, as if she were putting together the pieces of a complicated puzzle. When I finished talking, she let out a sigh and bit her lower lip as if trying to hold her thoughts.

“So… it could have been me from the start. So those women shouldn't have died…” said (Y/N) shaking her head.

"Don’t say that... all women on the list were potential victims..." I tried to take out the thought from her mind.

"But I was the source of his anger... he said that to me". (Y/N) tried to refute me.

“You just channeled it. Hunter was his source of anger…”. I replied. I knew she was looking to blame herself and it wasn't fair.

"And now he's dead..." she said with tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I’m so sorry... I know you were together. I'm sorry you lost the man you fell in love with…”. I said trying to offer condolences for her loss. She lowered her head.

"You know?, Hunter was a very good man to me. Always patient, attentive, loving. It hurts me I couldn't ... reciprocate ... even though it was a small part of the love he felt for me. The poor man ended up losing his life for a woman who… would never love him as he loved her…” (Y/N) said outlining a sad smile. I didn't know exactly how to react to that. So she didn't love him? Did that give me a chance? Did she ever stop loving me?

"He made his decisions. You can't blame yourself for that. Finally... we cannot pretend what we aren’t or do not feel..." I said.

“Yes, they were not very smart decisions. But I don't blame him, I haven't made the smartest decisions in my life either…”. Was she talking about us? Why couldn't I get that out of my head? I didn't want to say it, but it just came out. I had to know.

“(Y/N)… I know maybe this is not the time to talk about this… but since you are talking about the decisions we make in life… when you told me we had to end our relationship to have at least a nice memory of what was… was it true? Did it end up being a good memory for you…?” I asked, leaning over the chair, resting my arms on my knees. She thought for a moment.

"It is. In fact. It was a wonderful three years Spencer…” she said giving me a warm smile. I felt I had a hard time swallowing. I wanted to tell her everything that was stuck in my chest, but I couldn't do it.

"Also for me…". It was the only thing I could say. An uncomfortable silence settled between us. I broke it by changing the subject. "What will you do now? Do you plan to stay in Philadelphia?..."

"I don’t know. At the moment I have my work here. I’ll have to find a place to live, but it should not be difficult. But I don't know, maybe I don't want to be here anymore. Maybe now I should try luck in Chicago…” she said with a shrug. I nodded.

“I know there is a lot to think about. But it's late and you should rest. Tomorrow you can start to see what to do. I can help you in whatever you need. Now you should try to sleep. If you need anything, I’m in room 321, you can call me directly from here…”. I said as I got up from my chair to go to my room.

"When are you going back to DC? ..." she asked.

"Tomorrow, at noon..." I said with a grimace as I walked to the door. She nodded.

"Okay. Well ... thanks Spencer. You saved my life after all. Gabriel was going to shoot again if you hadn't stopped him…” she said scratching his forehead as if trying to get the image out of her head. I just nodded. I didn't know how to respond to that.

"Try to sleep (Y/N). Tomorrow morning I’ll call you to ask how you are…”. It was the only thing that came out of my mouth.

"I'll try". She came over and gave me a hug. "Thanks again". When I tried to hug her back she was already away. I was awkwardly silent and left the room. She closed the door behind me. And I didn't say anything. Everything was still as stuck in my chest as before. Defeated, I returned to my room. I had one night to try to think what I was going to do. Would I let her go again? Would I let her get on with her life? Life that was so much more fragile than when we arrived in Philadelphia. At least now she was in no danger. But was that enough for me? I wanted her. How could I get her back?

I made my way to the bathroom. I took a short shower and went to bed. I lay on my back looking at the ceiling. My head was spinning. I couldn't force (Y/N) to do something she didn't want to do. She had to make her own decisions, it was her life and I had no right to interfere. But I could honestly express my feelings. I could never really tell her I was sorry, despite having broken my promises I still loved her and even being with another woman there was not a day I didn’t want to be with her again.

I was deep in my thoughts and insomnia when I felt two knocks on the door. I jumped out of bed, something could have happened to (Y/N) and maybe she needed my help. Without even looking through the peephole I opened the door. In front of me was the very (Y/N), with a jacket over her pajamas. She didn’t move or say anything.

"(Y/N)... did something happen? Are you okay?...". I asked with concern. She didn't say anything, just got close enough to me that I could feel the heat radiating from her body. She stood up on her feet and as she wrapped her arms around my neck pressing her lips to mine. With no time to lose, I reciprocated the kiss by wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her into the room as I slammed the door shut with one leg. Was this my chance? My last chance? Maybe I was about to find out.

———————

[eliesaidwhat]

red-handed

cross posted on ao3

!!trigger warning!! mentions of suicidal thoughts. this book contains death, murder, graphic descriptions of violence and other sensitive subjects. please read with caution.

1. thirteen suspects

Adrien walks through the clear doors, and she sits up straighter on the bed.

He makes a beeline for Marinette, immediately bending down to her height and wrapping her up in a tight hug. She’s sure she smells rather disgusting. The blood and dirt that once left not a single inch of her pale skin untouched was washed off as soon as she arrived at the hospital, but it’s been a few days since then and she’s sure her hair is starting to smell of sweat.

Still, if he’s bothered by it, he doesn’t show it and rests his cheek gently against the top of her head. She struggles to angle herself towards him, wrapping her arm that isn’t hooked up to the IV around him. The smell of him is familiar— like laundry detergent, expensive cologne and watermelon gum.

Her mind is foggy, and even though her wrist is still aching, it doesn’t reach her. All she can think about is the way her best friend uses way too much fabric softener, how maybe she can finally get some answers, and how she doesn’t have to be alone. God, she’s so tired of being alone.

Her parents were here, and she doesn’t know when they stepped out, but they didn’t tell her anything. The events that landed her in the hospital feel a bit cloudy, and though they’ve slowly started to sink in, she wishes someone would just tell her. All they would do is squeeze her hand while she pleaded for Kagami, for Adrien, for Alya, for anyone.

He drags a hand through her tresses. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Marinette,” He breathes. “I tried to get here as fast as I could. I’m sorry I took a few days.”

Without her phone to contact anyone, Marinette has been left to stir with her thoughts and questions. She assumed that perhaps Adrien and Kagami were occupied with their parents' expectations, trying to calm herself. Still, she stressed over the possibility that maybe something else had happened. It poked at the back of her brain. Now, seeing him in person, her relief is immeasurable.

She pushes her face into his chest. “I’m just happy you’re here. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. You know I’ll always be here for you.”

They stay like that. Adrien clings to her like he’s afraid she’ll vanish if he lets go for even a second. He strokes her hair with one hand and rubs circles into her back with the other. He squeezes her softly enough to not hurt her but tight enough to make her feel completely safe and cared for.

It’s nice to feel the warmth of a hug. She feels cold, right down to the bone. Like the chill is coming from within her, instead of as a response to her surroundings. She isn’t sick, the hospital is warm, and yet still, she’s cold.

After a few moments of silence, she withdraws from him. She meets his gaze.

“Adrien, where’s Kagami?”

For the first time, she really pays attention to the way Adrien looks. She was so absorbed in worrying about how dirty she must be that she didn’t even take him in. He doesn’t look any less handsome than usual, but he doesn’t… look well.

For the first time, she notices the redness breaking up the usual brilliant green light shining from his eyes. He looks horribly pale, not unlike a porcelain doll, but on Adrien it looks almost sickly. Dark streaks crease his under eyes, the tiredness evident. Despite the paleness, the area beneath his eyes and along his cheekbones is splotchy with redness.

Marinette sits up straighter. The ECG grows louder and faster. She sees the faint streaks of dried tear tracks tainting the flawless skin of his cheeks. His waterline still seems flooded with unshed tears, as if he’s holding back tears.

“Adrien… where’s Kagami?” Her throat burns with dehydration, but she still pushes out the question with force.

“I’m sorry, Marinette.” His voice breaks. The cold intensifies.

No, she thinks.

But the evidence sits in front of her, too loud to be ignored. She swallows hard, and it pains her. Her heart hardens like a rock, and the weight of it drags it all the way down to her feet. The strings that once tied her to Kagami now wrap around her chest and squeeze, suffocatingly tight.

Denial itches her skin, and for a moment the temptation to fall into it is too strong. It can’t be, she thinks. That maybe, just maybe, Adrien is wrong, or lying, or playing some sick joke. Or maybe, it’s not what she thinks at all, and she’s just jumping to conclusions.

However, eye contact with the blonde boy is enough. Because in the depth of his pale green irises lies the undeniable, horrific truth she had feared.

She knows.

Without warning, a small cry is drawn out from her throat. Her hand rises to her mouth. She bites down on her knuckle, trying to stifle the despair passing through her dried lips. She didn’t cry when she got brought into the hospital— she was hurt, but she didn’t cry.

The implication of his words is more painful than any physical injury she could endure. God, she would break every bone in her body to have him take back those words.

The hospital bed creaks with her trembles. She feels the wetness slide down her cheeks, then drip onto her hands and the thin sheets. She can taste the saltiness of her anguish. Marinette reaches forward and clutches Adrien’s shirt tightly, drawing him closer.

“No! No. That— that can’t—!” Wide eyes and a raw throat from the shouts. “We made it! I… we got here! Why didn’t they—why didn’t they save her?!”

Bile sits at the back of the throat but never comes out. She’s in complete hysterics, and her wails echo through the room. She clutches Adrien tighter, and he only fights down his own tears, winding his arms around her.

Anger spikes in her, and she momentarily draws back her hands only to slam her fists back into his chest. Her pleas don’t die, and she keeps begging until her throat goes raw. Her nails dig into his shirt. He flinches, but doesn’t pull away. He keeps his arms around her, and he takes it.

“Please! Tell me—!” A sob swelled in her throat. “Tell me you’re lying! Please!” She goes slack in his arms, and soon her wails start to soften down to light hiccups and short cries. “Please,” she almost whispers.

Adrien’s chest shakes with his own cries. “I’m so sorry, Marinette. I...I wish I could.”

“They should have left me,” she sobs into his shirt. “They should have let me die there if they weren’t going to save Kagami. God, I wish they fucking let me die there.”

Adrien tightens his hold on her. She can tell it’s not what he wants to hear— and why would it be? He just had one of his closest friends die— but she means every word. She can’t bring herself to consider his feelings at the moment, or think about anything other than the fact the woman she loves more than anyone is gone.

And no one would fucking tell her.

Marinette is now fully slumped against Adrien, no longer able to support herself.

“I wish they would let me die.”

Marinette’s lips are pulled into a tight line.

She looks different than she did before, she notes as she admires herself in the mirror. She’s taller, for one. Her legs and arms have a definition they didn’t have before, and the lines on her abdomen are more defined than ever. Five years is a long time, and she worked hard to make sure that no one ever pulled a fast one on her ever again. She wouldn’t let her guard down.

She has the same small curved nose, the same hooded blue eyes, and the same plump pink lips. However, the newfound definition in her cheekbones and jaw did wonders for her face. She feels like she’s staring at a totally different person in the mirror. Her hair, once shoulder-length, now sways at her waist. Long bangs tickle her cheeks. She touches her ends. Maybe it’s time for a cut.

Kagami’s death was destructive. God, how that broke her. She holed herself up in her room for weeks. Adrien had to slide food under her door frame. When she finally did open up her room door, it was to pack her bags and leave Paris. She booked the first flight as far as she could go and never looked back.

Everywhere she turned, she could see her. The melody of her laugh when she walked through Trocadero Gardens, the faint feeling of her hair tickling the slope of Marinette’s neck and shoulder on her chaise, the smell of her perfect peppermint exhale in the living room. Worst of all, the only thing she could taste for months was Kagami’s familiar cherry-flavoured lips.

She never had a preference in any flavour. Her parents raised her in a bakery, so she got pretty used to sampling all sorts of flavours and loved them all the same. That was until she and Kagami had their first kiss. All she could taste was cherry. It was the only flavour she had ever craved. She could probably live in it.

Now, the thought of it makes her want to cry and vomit all at once.

Marinette closes her eyes and sucks in a sharp breath. Being back in Paris is awfully overwhelming. Every corner, every turn, every monument has a painful memory attached to it. She’s not ready to remember what it was like to love Kagami because she was never ready to lose her.

But, she came here for a reason. There isn’t anything she can do to bring back Kagami, but she can bring Hell on earth for her. And Marinette is more than ready to make Francois Dupont burn.

Adrien marches into her hotel room without knocking, clearly taking advantage of her spare key. Luckily, she’s already dressed. She clips her hair up and folds her arms across her chest in disapproval.

She’s always admired the way he dresses. His style has certainly evolved from his days of bright orange converse. He always dresses in a classy, clean way with an air of femininity around it. An academic feel with a preference for neutral colours. She loves it.

She’s glad their colours match. While she never voices it, she always tries to match their colours and even predict what he might choose so they can match. It makes them look more put together and planned, even if it mostly isn’t. Their colour palette of tan, khaki, and light pink eases any irritation she had with him for his intrusion. She’s still going to bug him about it, though.

“That key is for emergencies.”

“It is an emergency,” he lies.

She narrows her eyes. “Oh, really? What’s the emergency?”

“The emergency is that I needed to be in your room and I wasn’t.”

She looks at him like he’s stupid because he is. “It’s a mystery to me that you’ve made it this far.”

He bats his eyelashes at her. “I’m a mystery to the world, not just you, Princess. Some speculate it's because of my good looks and charm. Scientists hate me.”

She pats his chest. “Good to know your humour aged like milk.” She scowls as the realization just hits her. “And do not call me Princess.”

“My apologies, my lady. Shall we get down to business?” Adrien pushes down on the door knob, pulling the door open and holding it open for her.

She steps through the door. Their topic of discussion isn’t necessarily unpleasant to the two due to their unfortunate comfort with death, but it is still rather grim. “Thirteen are on my radar. I only have confirmation for four of them, and it’s because I saw them with my own two eyes. They can go first.”

He hums. “Names?”

“Mylène Haprèle, Ivan Bruel, Aurore Beaurèal and Sabrina Raincomprix.” She presses the button on the elevator door. “Mylène is the timid, follower type. I’m not surprised she got roped into this. Ivan is in love with her, so I assume he only went along with it for her.”

“I predict a quick death.”

She nods firmly as they step onto the lift. “No need to make it torturous. I’m not cruel. I can’t say the same for the other two, though. Aurore seemed far too content going along with it. She did the honors of breaking my ankle so I couldn’t run. As for Sabrina, she didn’t do much that day, but she was the one who pulled strings to get the case dismissed. It’s what forced us into a corner and made us accept a deal to make this all go away.”

Adrien chuckles darkly, leaning against the elevator wall. His arms are folded against his chest. “I’m guessing you’re planning on getting pretty creative with these ones? Shall I soundproof the cellar?”

Marinette knows he’s only teasing, but the sinister note in his tone sends shivers of anticipation and excitement up her spine. In a twisted way, she can hardly wait for what comes to follow. She doesn’t really know what to make of that. “That won’t be necessary, kitten. I’m sure I can make do with a nice, big, open field. Or a mouth gag. Whichever is more available to me.”

“And the others? The suspects?”

“Lila Rossi, naturally. Marc Anciel, Nathaniel Kurtzburg, Max Kante, Luka Couffaine, Juleka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Mirielle Caquet, and…” she hesitates on the last name. She doesn’t know how Adrien will feel about it.

He lifts a brow. “And…?”

She sighs, but stands her ground. “Chloé Bourgeois.”

Adrien’s gaze hardens and narrows into slits. “No.”

Adrien didn’t have many friends growing up, despite his charisma, as a result of his father. Though he fell out of touch with Chloé, his bias towards her because of their history is expected. Still, she expects him to understand that Chloé Bourgeois was most certainly not a saint and could have very well played a role. Especially considering she was Sabrina’s best friend.

She steps off the lift, turning her gaze in front of her. “Adrien, I get it, you guys were childhood friends. But, you can’t let that influence you. She could easily be guilty. She has every reason to hate Kagami, her father is the mayor, and she’s not exactly beneath something like that.”

“It’s a big jump from being a high school bully to murder.”

Rage bubbles beneath her skin. “Well, obviously not,” she snaps, serving as a reminder that whoever put Kagami six feet under is probably considered ‘just a high school bully.’

He winces, retracting his claws a bit. “Look, I just really don’t think Chloé would do something like this. I know you don’t get along, but I’ve known her for a long time. Trust me, she can be a bitch, but she wouldn’t do that.”

That’s an unfair card, she thinks. He knows she trusts him with her life, but that doesn’t mean she has to agree with him in every situation.

“I do trust you, but I’m not willing to rule out Chloé yet. I’m not saying she did it, but it’s still possible. I won’t rule it out until I know for sure.”

He opens his mouth to object, but she interjects.

“If she really wouldn’t do that, then you should have no reason to worry about me looking into her. Right?”

Adrien sighs. “Right.”

Marinette cares for Adrien dearly, she really does. However, he’s easily swayed by his emotions, and his natural gift of connecting to people mixed with his history of not having friends makes it harder for him to notice the red flags waving right in front of his face. Despite his willingness to follow Marinette’s rather gruesome plans, he has a softness for people he cares for.

While she appreciates this, and it’s one of the many reasons she loves Adrien, she has to crush it under her heel for the time being. She might care for Adrien, but not as much as she cares about getting justice for Kagami. If she has to force him out of his comfort zone a little to do so, or even if she has to slaughter his childhood friend, she will.

But…

The expression on his face makes her frown. She reaches forward and physically smooths out the crease in his brow with her thumb. “Look, we don’t know anything for sure, kitten. I’m not saying she’s guilty. I’m just saying we need to look into her.”

He relaxes, nodding softly and giving her a soft smile. He quickly switches the topic. “Not to doubt your abilities, Princess, but there’s only two of us. Not sure how you plan to pull off four, let alone thirteen… inconspicuous disappearances within the month we’re going to be here.”

Of course she had thought about that. If nothing else, Marinette is an over-planner to her core. When she plans, she numbers them rather than sticking to the usual a,b,c, etc. She doesn’t want to limit herself to only 26 plans. She thinks about every possible outcome, failure, and remedy.

“Firstly, I don’t plan on inconspicuous disappearances. I’m thinking maybe a few, and then some accidents, and by the time anything connected we can be out of Paris.” God, how she wants to get out of Paris.

He lifts a brow. “I still don’t see how just the two of us are going to manage to pull that off by ourselves.

Marinette slips her arm through his, and they start towards the exit. “What made you think I planned for us to do this all on our own?”

He looks confused, but when they step through the front doors of the hotel, the answer stands right before them.

Marinette watches his eyes focus on them. Her long, curly hair and figure-hugging orange dress that falls to the floor. Her foxy eyes, brown skin and smirking lips. His short hair, covered by a green hat, newly lithe and tall physique, and complexion that matches his companions.

One of the slyest duos in all of Paris— second only to Marinette and Adrien— Alya Césaire and Nino Lahiffe.

chapter two posted on ao3

previous | next

[grantyort]

Prelude IV: Relight

Post-Surgery: DAY ONE

[Sean sits in the hospital bed, legs crossed, staring into space when he hears a familiar voice.]

Joey: Sean, Sean Diaz? Well damn. I never thought I’d see your sorry ass again!

Sean: Geez Joey. Is that how you talk to all your patients?

Joey: Just the ones I like.

[Sean chuckles]

Joey: C’mere big man.

[Joey gives Sean a big bear hug]

Sean: How’ve you been Joey?

Joey: Can’t complain. These days, they got me up in hospice care. You’re probably the first person I’ve seen today that didn’t need their bedpans changed.

Sean: Sounds terrible.

Joey: It’s all not all bad. Lot of these folks have stories that you wouldn’t believe. One of my patients has lived through five wars and two depressions, tells me I’m a credit to my race.

Sean: Yeesh.

Joey: (shrugs) She means well. It’s almost flattering compared to some of the stuff I’ve heard. Been on this job almost ten years now, some people still treat me like I have no idea what I’m doing.  

Sean: That sucks Joey.

Joey: Yeah... Anyway, you seem to be doing pretty well for yourself. From what I heard, this procedure cost a small fortune. You must have friends in high places.

Sean: Yeah, something like that.

Joey: And no guard at the door this time. I assume everything got cleared up with the police? Not planning to make a break for it again are ya?

Sean: Nah, no daring escapes this time.

Joey: Good. I don’t think I’d survive another blow to the head.

Sean: Listen Joey I’m really sorry-

Joey: (laughs) Relax Sean! I’m just messing with you! It’s ancient history as far as I’m concerned. Say, did you ever end up finding that brother of yours?

Sean: Yeah. He’s actually coming to visit me tomorrow.

Joey: Can’t wait to meet him!

Sean: Famous last words.

Joey: So… what you been up to these days?

Sean: Mostly just cramming for the SATs, drawing, listening to music. Normal teenage shit.

Joey: That’s good to hear. I was worried about you man. You went AWOL after the hospital. I got police and Feds breathing down my neck for weeks. Then a month later, I hear about a couple of kids trying the border to Mexico on the news.

Sean: Sorry I never reached out. I just didn’t want to get you more involved than you already were-

Joey: You made the right call. They questioned me for hours. My apartment was filled with G-men, my girlfriend was freaked. I honestly thought she was going to dump my ass.

Sean: I’m really sorry Joey.

Joey: Don’t sweat it Sean, it was for a good cause. Besides, everything worked out in the end.

Sean: Yeah I noticed, how long have you been-

Joey: Almost a year now. We’re expecting our first baby in the summer.

Sean: Congratulations dude!

Joey: Thanks, but honestly, I’m kinda nervous, don’t think I’m ready to be a father.

Sean: You’ll be a great dad, Joey. You’re awesome at taking care of people.

Joey: You’re damn right. Speaking of which, we should probably take a look at that eye of yours.

[Joey takes off the bandage and gives Sean’s eye a thorough examination]

Joey: Well it looks a helluva lot better than the last time I saw it.

Sean: That’s good to hear. I wasn’t sure it would work.

Joey: Well it’s too early to say if your vision will fully recover. But at the very least you won’t have to walk around with a patch anymore.

Sean: Good. It’s hard enough finding a prom date let alone one that’s willing to go with a pirate.

Joey: Still with the pirate jokes huh? Hopefully, you’ll have to write some new material after this.

[Joey applies a new bandage on Sean’s eye]

Joey: And you’re all set. Now as much as I love our talks, I gotta make my rounds. Buzz me if you need me.

Sean: Later Joey.

Joey: See ya tomorrow Sean.

 [Joey leaves the room. Sean turns to look out the window. The door shoots open, and a small figure comes bursting in.]

Daniel: Sean! 

[He jumps onto the bed and into Sean’s arms]

Stephen: (out-of-breath) Sorry, I tried to stop him, but he outran me.

Sean: You okay Stephen?

Stephen: I am… just need a minute to catch my breath. The old ticker ain’t what it used to be- I need to sit down.

Daniel: Take it easy grandpa.

Sean: What are you doing here, enano? I wasn’t expecting you guys until tomorrow.

Daniel: I made grandpa book an earlier flight. I just couldn’t wait! 

[he hugs Sean again]

Sean: Haha easy. I just had surgery, remember?

Daniel: Oh right, s-sorry.

[There’s a brief flash, followed by a shutter click]

Sean: What’re you doing, gramps?

Stephen: Oh nothing, just commemorating the moment. Thanks to your brother, I finally got the hang of this newfangled smartphone camera.

Daniel (whispering): He had it stuck on selfie mode for days. Anyway, did it go? Is your eye…

Sean: I mean… it’s not 100% yet but I can sort of see again.

Daniel: T-that’s awesome! Can I see it?

Sean: Dude last time I showed you my eye, you almost cried. Besides, the doctors say I still need to keep the bandage on for a bit, while it heals.

Daniel: Right. That makes sense. Oooh this room looks cool. Do they have Netflix or a Playbox?

Sean: It’s a hospital, dude.

Daniel: Lame.

Sean: So catch me up. Did I miss anything interesting at home?

Daniel: Nah… Chris is still on that fishing trip with his dad so there’s no one to hang out with. Oh I almost forgot. He made you this card. Isn’t it awesome?

[Daniel gives Sean a hand-drawn “get-well-soon” card from Chris]

Sean: Yeah. It’s pretty cool. We can have Claire put it up when we get back.

Daniel: Grandma’s still in that feud with the lady from church.

Sean: Which one was that again?

Daniel: Agnes, the one who gives off major Lisbeth-vibes. She says grandma stole her casserole recipe for the church bake-sale. Lying bitch.

Stephen: Language!

Sean: Maybe one of us should try to smooth things over before it gets nasty.

Stephen: Hell hath no fury… lemme tell ya. I’ve been married to your grandmother long enough to know once that woman sets her mind on something… there’s no stopping her. Best to just let things run their course.

Sean: Claire can get a little… passionate sometimes. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen her lose her temper for real.

Stephen: There’s a fire in that woman. It’s part of the reason I married her. Just pray she never turns it on you. I hope I’ll never live to see that day, god willing.

[Sean notices Daniel circling the hospital bed, pressing his hand on various parts of the mattress]

Sean: (laughs) What are you doing, enano?

Daniel: Just trying to figure which side of the bed I want to sleep on tonight.

Sean: Dude. There’s no way this bed’s gonna fit both of us.

Daniel: The one in Mom’s trailer was way smaller!

Sean: Yeah well… you were a lot smaller back then.

Stephen: They have a nice area for visitors down the hall.

Daniel: But I want to stay with Sean!

Sean: I guess I could ask Joey to bring in a couch or something.

Daniel: Who’s Joey?

Sean: The nurse who took care of me after the accident. I told you about him, remember?

Daniel: Oh right! I can’t wait to meet him!

 DAY TWO

Joey: How are we doing today? Any headaches, dizziness, socket pain?

Sean: Nah it’s all good. Still getting used to having depth perception again. It’s kinda weird.

Joey: You’ll get used to it. Anything else to report?

Sean: Nothing major. I’ve just been having some really weird dreams.

Joey: We have a psychiatrist on-site if you need a professional to talk to.

Sean: Nah it’s alright, probably just the drugs messing with my brain.

Joey: Well your vitals look good. We’ll go over some basic tests. You know the drill.

(Sean covers his right eye and tries to read the chart. Joey then shines a light and asks him to follow along. Finally, he asks Sean to put the cap back on the pen.)

Joey: You passed with flying colors. The doctor will be in for a final exam tomorrow and then we can discharge you.

Sean: (sarcastically) Too bad, I was ready to become the first Mexican pirate to attend college. So much for being a trailblazer.

Joey: Good to see you haven’t lost that snarky-ass sense of humor.

Joey: Anyway, I’m taking my lunch now. Want me to get you anything from the cafeteria? Wait… don’t tell me. Chocolate pecan?

Sean: You know it.

Joey: I met your brother in the hall. Cute kid.

Sean: (deadpans) Give it a few days. Then see if you get a “second opinion.”

Joey: He does seem a little… “energetic”. But that’s normal for kids his age.

Sean: Yeah one minute I’m his favorite person in the world. The next, he’s off doing God knows what, and doesn’t want me “bossing him around”. You know how it is.

Joey: Can’t say I do. Grew up in a house with three older sisters. Guess I must have been the annoying one. Daniel’s lucky to have you looking out for him. Must be tough sometimes.

Sean: Oh you have no idea.

[Joey claps Sean’s shoulder, he feels a jolt shooting up his spine, everything goes white] 

(Sean sees a door marked: “Miranda A. Connolly, Hospital Director”)

Connolly: You’ve been a valuable asset to this hospital. Stellar feedback from all of your patients and attendings.

Joey: I sense a “but” coming.

Connolly: But, given the dubious circumstances surrounding your transfer and your past involvement with the law. The Board thinks it might be better for one of the other nurses to take this spot.

Joey: Please. I’ve got a kid on the way. We just bought our first house. Can you at least consider bumping up my pay? I haven’t gotten a real raise since I started here. There are kids coming out of nursing school that make what I make!

Connolly: The hospital has limited resources as it is, and the State just slashed our funding again. I just can’t justify raising anyone’s salary right now.

Joey: I break my back for this hospital, work extra shifts, get to know the patients. You promised me at the annual review that I’d-

Connolly: That was before this new information came to light. I’m sorry Joseph, maybe next year.

[Sean snaps out of his trance]

Joey: Sean? Sean are you okay?

Sean: Sorry, Guess I spaced out. Must just be the medication.

Joey: I can have the doctor come by and adjust your dosage.

Sean: I’m fine Joey. I swear. Weren’t you about to take lunch?

Joey: Oh right. We’ll pick this up later.

[Joey leaves the room, looking slightly puzzled.]

Sean: (thinking) W-what what was that? A dream? But It felt so… real.

[Sean takes out his phone and enters the name of the hospital, He finds their website. Under the ‘About’ section he scrolls to the Executive team bio. There is a photo of the woman he saw in the vision followed by a small blurb]

“Miranda A. Connolly is the President and Chief Director of Mt. Cedar General Hospital. She was appointed back in 2016 as Associate Director and has since made ground-breaking changes to the field of medicine and medical care. Under her leadership, this hospital was able to expand greatly, hiring new diverse staff members and vastly improving quality of care for all its patients.”

Sean: (thinking) Holy shit… it’s real. Does that mean I…?

Daniel: Hey Sean! What you looking at?

Sean: Dude! Don’t sneak up on me like that!

Daniel: I wasn’t sneaking. I was practicing my stealth!

Sean: Yeah sure.

Daniel: Are you looking at the new Playbox Pro? My birthday is right around the corner you know.

Sean: Birthday? It’s still January!

Daniel: Never too early to start preparing.

Sean: (rolling eyes) Yeah cuz everything’s always about you.

Daniel: Oooh I bet you were watching those dirty videos again. I’m tellin’ grandpa!

Sean: Hey hands off my phone you little-

[Daniel tries to grab Sean’s phone. Sean wrests his hand away. There is another a jolt]

[Daniel stands in front of the vending machine, staring at the jumbo chock-o-crisp. He looks around to check that the coast is clear. Then he waves his hand causing the chock-o-crisp to fall off the rack and into the dispenser slot.He gleefully retrieves it and devours the candy bar in a matter of seconds]

Sean: Dude, I told you not to eat any more chock-o-crisps! Do you want another trip to the dentist?

Daniel: What are you talking about? I haven’t had one in weeks!

Sean: Yeah sure. So you didn’t pig out at the vending machine before coming in here?

Daniel: How did you-

Sean: Maybe I have magic powers or maybe… you’ve still got crumbs on your collar.

Daniel: Aw, damn it. Promise you won’t tell grandpa.

Sean: Oh so you can tell on me but I can’t tell on you?

Daniel: (smugly) Exactly.

Sean: C’mere ya little shit!

Daniel: Sean stop! Ha that tickles. Quit it!

(After their little bout, Daniel curls up next to Sean, resting his head on Sean’s lap. Sean ruffles Daniel’s hair absentmindedly)

Sean: You ever wish you were… you know “normal” again?

Daniel: You mean not have my powers? Nah. They’re a part of me now. Besides, being normal is overrated.

Sean: (chuckles) I guess it is. But do you ever get that feeling like you thought you wanted something for a really long time but when you finally get it, it nothing like you thought it’d be?

Daniel: Uhhh… you mean like how I begged grandma to get me a PlayBox Live Subscription, but then the exclusives turned out to be shit? And now I have to act like I love it?

Sean: Yeah something like that.

Daniel: (yawns) Meh I’ll just ask for a gaming PC for my birthday.

Sean: Dude you’re like the greediest ten year-old I know.

Daniel: How many ten year-olds do you know?

Sean: Uh… just you and Chris.

Daniel: So, you want me to be more like Chris?

Sean: Wouldn’t hurt.

Daniel: (imitating Chris) “Only the purest of hearts may wield the power of Captain Spirit!”

Sean: Guess that rules you out.

Daniel: (playfully) Shut up.

DAY THREE

Doctor: Okay Mr.Diaz. I want you to follow the light. Look to your right, up and to the right. Good, good, excellent pupil response.  Now look at the chart, cover your right eye and read this line.

Sean: Uh… A, O, E, P… T? Sorry I can’t really make out the last one.

Doctor: That’s okay, it takes time.

Doctor: Now this is probably the last thing you want to hear, but I recommend that you wear a patch over your right eye. It’ll be temporary of course, just until you learn to see with your left eye again.

Sean: (laughs dryly) And here I thought my seafaring days were behind me.

Doctor: You know… pirate actually wore patches so their eyes could easily adjust to the darkness and see below deck- Sorry my son’s going through a pirate phase.

Sean: I know the feeling. My little brother’s been through every phase imaginable.

Doctor: Kids, you gotta treasure every moment. Because before you know it, they’ll be all grown up, ready to go off on their own. Look at me, rambling on. Anyway, I signed your discharged papers. They’ll schedule you for some outpatient care in the coming months.You’re almost ready to go. 

Sean: Sounds good.

Doctor: And you’re sure you don’t want to get do something about that nasty scar? A good-looking kid like you, it would be a shame to-

Sean: That’s okay, I think I’ll keep it… as a reminder.

Doctor: Alright but if you ever change your mind, I could refer you to a great plastic surgeon.

Sean: Thanks Doc, for everything.

Doctor: The pleasure’s all mine, Mr.Diaz. The groundwork we laid here could help hundreds of other patients in the future. We are making history. Your nurse should be along in a moment to help you get discharged.

[Sean sits in quiet contemplation. Reflecting on his dreams and new “vision”]

Sean (thinking): Be careful what you wish for... 

Joey: Looks like everything’s good to go. Remember to use your eye-drops-

Sean: Twice a day. Yeah Joey, I know.

Joey: Guess it’s goodbye again. Don’t be a stranger this time okay?

Sean: I won’t.

Joey: Here’s my number. Call me if ever need professional advice or just want to shoot the shit.

Sean: Thanks Joey. Let me know how everything goes with the baby.

Joey: Oh don’t you worry about that. Soon I’ll be blowing up your phone with pictures.

Sean: Haha can’t wait.

Joey: Now hospital policy says I gotta wheel your ass outta here. For liability reasons.

Sean: At least it’ll be a smoother exit than last time.

Joey: (laughs) Get in the chair smart-ass.

Beaver Creek, One Week Later

Sean: Okay, you ready?

Daniel: (takes deep breath) Alright. Show it to me.

Sean: So… how does it look?

Daniel: Looks… normal.

Sean: You almost sound disappointed. Were you expecting a bionic eye or something?

Daniel: No. I just… it looks good. I like the scar; makes you look extra tough.

Sean: You think so?

Daniel: Yeah… totally badass!

Sean: Thanks, enano.

Daniel: You need a new codename, like Scarred Wolf or Deadshot Diaz!

Sean: Let’s leave the nicknames up to Chris.

Daniel: Hey! I make up awesome names too!

Sean: Whatever you say,“Superwolf”

[angelruel]

vintage pt.2

      summary: the reader gets into an accident which causes her to lose her memory. as Ruel begins to rebuild their relationship and recall the good memories between them, some bad ones are restored as well and might threaten their future. 

masterlist

Word Count: 4.4 k (kind of long, oops)

       “Soooo what’s my favorite color?”

       “Easy. Blue,” he retorted while reaching over to fill in a space on the tic tac toe board that Y/N had drawn on her empty lap desk. He was the x’s and she played the o’s. It was a bit difficult for Ruel to pretend to not know all of her tricks she played in this game, but he was a very convincing loser. She had also taken the opportunity of his return to test him on some trivia of her personal likes and dislikes. 

       “Okay, here’s a good one,” she said as she filled the left hand corner on the board with a perfect circle. Ruel learned a long time ago that her strategy was to fill two corners and the center spot of the board in order to have an upper hand on winning. He watched her play the same way over again. Ruel admired her predictability and he almost felt confident enough that her tic tac toe skills returning would somehow correlate to her feelings for him to return as well.

       “Well finally a good one. Lay it on me.” He gave her his signature soft smile that he always grants her when he’s being his sweetest version of a boyfriend.

       “What’s my favorite song? Or, at least one of my favorite songs.”

       Ruel scrunches up his nose in thought, “hmmm. I’m gonna need a little more context, bub.”

       “Okay so maybe my favorite song I like to hear on a road trip. Something that gets me energized.” Ruel found it funny that she was reaching for more and more clues to jog her memory. They both knew that couldn’t she remember the last road trip she’d been on, or any of them for that matter. He was proud that she was at least in a more positive mood about not remembering things. 

       “Wait a Minute! by Willow Smith. There’s one.”

       Y/N’s happy expression dropped to a confused one. 

       “Huh? I don’t listen to Willow Smith.”

       They both just sat there for a while. There was still an apparent wall that Y/N had built up to secure herself from being hurt by Ruel since she barely knew him. 

       But the truth was that she barely knew herself.

       “Well, I guess I did listen to her music,” she dropped her head down. “I guess I just can’t remember it.” 

       Ruel used the sleeve of his sweater to wipe off the marker drawings on Y/N’s desk tray so that he could lean over it to hold her hands.

       “Hey, how about we do something else? I brought back some stuff like you asked me for.” She looked up and gave him a soft smile when he let go of her hands to grab a blue shoebox from the floor.

       “Oh, you brought gifts! Yay!” she exclaimed while clapping her dainty hands over and over. He sat the box in front of her lap on the hospital tray and she stared at it for a minute. One of the things she did remember was that blue was her favorite color. And after having a few conversations with Ruel, she discovered that his was brown. So, she assumed that the color of the box was a little nod to her. She thought that was really sweet.

       “You can go ahead,” he encouraged her. “If you have any questions, just ask.”

       She hesitated to lift the flimsy lid from the top. Partly because she was afraid that seeing the contents wouldn’t help jog her memories at all, and also because she was still pretty weak from the constant dosage of pain meds she’d grown accustomed to. 

       The first things to come out of the box were some polaroids and a bunch of little papers she grabbed that were grouped together. One of the polaroids showed a group photo in front of a campfire with little writing at the bottom that said ‘new years 2020.’ There were some post-it notes with little messages written on them in pencil. They were fading but Y/N could still make out what they said. It was a girl’s handwriting, and there was a little drawing of a pond? Or maybe a lake. 

i drew you a pond since you wanna act like a silly goose all the time. bitch.

               -y/n

       There was another one filled with words instead of a cute drawing, and she assumed this one was a serious matter.

hi, love. i left to go watch the sunrise with coco around 4 am-ish. you probably would’ve wanted to join us, but you look so peaceful when you’re sleeping. and coco said that you’ve been smothering me lately and encouraged me to sneak out. anyways, i’ll probably be back before you see this, but just in case i’m not, don’t call the cops. okay that’s all. in case i never return, i love you. 

                -y/n (under the heavy influence of stella)

       Ruel chimed in to explain. “Yeah, you used to leave me little notes like that sometimes instead of texting like a normal person.” 

       “And you kept them?”

       “Of course I did. I’m not a monster.” He joked and she playfully hit his chest with the stack of notes. Ruel scooted his chair closer to the side of Y/N’s bed and leaned in. “Lets see what else we got in here.”

       There were movie tickets, receipts from restaurants, and even old wristbands from festivals. 

       “Is this what you meant when you said I grow attached to material things?” She laughed on the outside but in reality, Y/N was so infatuated in the idea that a boy would keep a box of things that reminded him of her and their relationship. 

       “Ha yeah, I guess it kind of rubbed off on me after a while.” Ruel reached his hand into the box as well and pulled out a little beaded bracelet. It had a simple pattern of ocean blue and brown wooden beads. He played with it in between his fingers.

       “I remember this. Your cousin made it for us when you brought me to Thanksgiving. She kept running back and forth asking us what our favorite colors were. It was so cute. And she said we had to share it,” he reminisced. 

       He gave her the bracelet which she carefully placed on the wrist that wasn’t connected to an IV. There were mostly pictures in the box. Pictures of Y/N and Ruel in different settings: kissing, posing next to venue signs with his name on it, cooking, etc. She picked up one of the pictures and examined it carefully. 

       “I remember this,” she said in a nonchalant matter. Ruel looked up at her, then back at the picture in her hand.

       “You do?” 

       “Yeah, I remember that whole trip. That was a fun trip. Hmm.” She hummed to herself in bliss with a grin on her face. 

       “Tell me about it,” he grinned back at her. “What do you remember?” She looked down for a while. It was almost like the times they spent together were in secret, and too precious to share with anyone else. She felt a deep connection to someone-whoever it was to make her feel such strong emotions in just the echos of the times they spent together. Y/N began longing for the person who made her experience this type of fondness. The person she was looking for was right in front of her. Why was she holding back?

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

       “Okay, how do I say this,” Y/N’s hand snaked up to her head to rake through her hair as she paced in deep thought. She took in a deep breath and turned around to look at him sitting in the hospital chair across the room.

       “I-I want this to be special. I mean, you’ve been so patient and considerate with me. You haven’t tried to rush me into anything at all. But I see the way you look when you think I’m not paying attention. You’re hurting, and I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to finally give in. Well not, finally give in, but. You know, you know what I’m trying to say right?” She used every ounce of energy she had to walk across the room to face him. She picked him up and brought his face close to hers. 

       “I’m trying to tell you that I love you,” she whispered and smiled softly. Before she could say anything else, Y/N heard the doorknob rattle in desperation to open it. 

       She quickly threw the teddy bear back into the chair and tried to pretend that she was doing anything else. 

       Ruel leaned into the door frame and struggled to keep his balance as he carried a Taco Bell bag and two drinks in his hands. 

       “Oh, let me help you with that,” Y/N rushed over to him to grab the drinks and his eyes grew in shock.

       “Well, it’s nice to see you up and moving so much. The doctor was right, you really have been getting stronger every day.” Y/N smiled up at him with pride as they both settled the food onto her desk. “So, have you heard anything yet?” 

       “Anything about what,” Y/N mumbled in between taking bites of her soft taco. She knew exactly what he was referring to, though.

       “Oh, you know. Like when are you gonna get out of this place? I mean, with the way you’re up and walking now,” he brought his free hand up to rest on the back of her neck as he examined her face with concerned eyes. “It’s been, what, four weeks now? They said four to six weeks, but by the looks of it, you’re healing up really well. You’ve done so good lately.”

       She mouthed ‘thank you’ and gave him another wide smile. Y/N was happy that he was proud of her progress. He played a big part of her growth, though. Through the discomfort and the multiple procedures she had to undergo, Ruel was always there at the side of her bed to rely on. Whether she was up at 4 am crying because she couldn’t remember the names of her dogs or freaking out in excitement after being able to stand up on her own, he was there for it all.

       And as her strength developed each day, so did her trust and love for him. She assumed that it wasn’t the same as their previous relationship, but it was more than enough to keep them happy. He would always tell her that he loved her, but she didn’t say it back. He told her it was fine, that he knew she didn’t really know who he was and he wouldn’t hold it against her. But in return, he needed for her to accept that he still loved her as much as he did before the accident and to be okay with him loving her even if it meant that she couldn’t love him equally back for a while. 

       But after spending so much time with him, Ruel was hardly a stranger to Y/N anymore. He was a friend, a very understanding and attractive friend. She couldn’t ignore the burning sensation she felt deep in her stomach when he would cuddle up close to her on the bed during their movie nights. She couldn’t ignore the desire or the comfort she felt for him any time that he was around (which was very often because Ruel was always around). He told her that he would wait for her, that she should take her time to decide if she wanted to continue their relationship whenever she was ready. He told her that she’d just gone through a major trauma and that she needed to focus on getting better. He said he would wait for her, but a part of her feared that he was only saying this to make her feel better. She feared that he had already accepted that they were just friends, that maybe he’d already began a new romance with some skinny long-haired girl in Sydney and he was just waiting for Y/N to get her strength back so that he could go home to her. 

       “Okay, well I have to tell you something,” she finally came out with. Ruel sat up straight in his chair to give her his full attention. His eyes were fixated on her face and his hands rested in his lap. She found herself lost in thought trying to remember what she wanted to tell him but she couldn’t focus on anything but his beauty. 

       “Did they already tell you whether you’re going home or not?” he laughed a little as he went to grab his drink off of the desk. “Did I miss it when I went to get lunch?” He used the side of his jeans to wipe the water that got on his hand from the cup. His huge hand. The same huge hand that he then used to move the long strands of hair out of his face. He’d previously told her that she did not like the long hair look on him and always encouraged him to get haircuts and shave. In the moment, Y/N couldn’t figure out why the hell anyone would ever encourage him to change his appearance when he looked like that. The long hair and mustache gave him a much more mature look in comparison to the old pictures and videos she would look at of him. She couldn’t understand why anyone would want to cut the hair that she so desperately wanted to run her fingers through. She quickly snapped out of it and shut her eyes so she couldn’t look at the beautiful boy in front of her.

       “I really do have to tell you something,” she started and stopped because she was nervous. With her eyes still closed, she felt Ruel’s hand grab hers.

       “What’s going on, why are you acting so weird?” he let out a nervous laugh and Y/N realized that he was probably feeling the same anxiety as her in the moment. She knew that someone had to be the confident one in this scenario, and she decided that it would be her. She took one last deep breath and let go of it.

       “Do you remember what I told you when I first told you I loved you?”

       “Yes,” he laughed again, “Do you want me to tell you the story again?” She nodded quickly in a child-like manner and looked at him in adoration.

       “It was a little after a month of us dating and I’d just taken you home after we went out driving and just hanging out. I was almost back in the car when I saw you run out of the house, barefoot, yelling at me to wait.” Y/N laughed a little and felt the tension between the two of them begin to melt away. 

       “And then what did I do?”

       “You went into this whole speech about how you felt and how you were very scared to be vulnerable because you were afraid of being hurt. And then you said something that I’d never forget,” he looked up at the ceiling as if the answers were written on the tiles, “you told me that the fear you felt only grew as you fell more in love with me. You said you thought that it would never go away, but you didn’t want it to stop you from embracing the happiness you felt when you were with me. And then you told me you loved me, and that you were scared of me. You said that I made you wanna jump into the fear rather than run away from it. You said you knew that you loved me as soon as you felt scared. Because you knew you had found something worth cherishing. And if it ever went away, you didn’t think you’d survive it.” He looked down. After saying all of that, it still seemed like there was something he was missing. He looked as if he didn’t manage to not break her heart. He was scared too.

       “Ruel?” Y/N let her hands relax and gripped onto his tighter. 

       “Yeah?”

       “I’m scared.” She began to fiddle with his long digits and almost felt hesitation to do anything next.

       “What are you afraid of-” he began, but was interrupted by the connection of her lips onto his. He freed his hand and rose it up to the back of her neck so he could deepen the kiss. They kissed again, and again. They kissed until their faces were red and she broke away for a moment to catch her breath. She smiled at him and he looked back at her in disbelief. 

       “I love you. I really do, Ruel. And I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long but I don’t want to be just friends. I want you in my life like you used to be,” her eyes dropped to her lap and her expression changed, “before everything got so fucked up.”

       He grabbed her face again and began to pepper it with kisses. At this point, Ruel was halfway onto her bed. She brought up her dainty hands to cup his face and she gently pulled away again. Ruel hitched a rushed breath out as he pouted in confusion as to why she pulled away. 

       “Oh yeah, I’m going home today.” She smiled with her teeth and he laughed in pure bliss before grabbing her face again.

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

       The boxes piled in the middle of the living room all started to disappear one by one. Y/N watched in awe as Ruel picked up every box and placed it in its proper area. Her legs swung back and forth in boredom while she waited on top of the kitchen counter where Ruel had placed her since she refused to wear shoes on the trip to her apartment.

       “You’re such a good slave,” she told him in a sweet tone as her eyes followed him across the area. He shook his head, barely giving her an ounce of the attention she practically begged for, and continued moving things around. 

        “Honey are you sure you’re gonna be okay on your own like this? You can stay back home a little longer if you’d like,” Y/N’s mother remarked. She looked at her daughter with concern.

        “I’m not alone, I have Ruel. And besides, I’ve already left the nest once before. I should be fine.”

        “Well I guess I’ll be on my way home now. Call me if you need anything. Anything.” Y/N pecked a kiss on her cheek and guided her mom outside.

        By the time she got back into the apartment, the living room was clear of boxes and she moved down the hall in search of her boyfriend. She found Ruel in her bedroom on the edge of the bed hunched over his phone. 

        “What’s so interesting?” She sat down beside him and rested her chin on his shoulder. Once she realized what he was watching, she pulled out one of his airpods so she could listen in. It was from her Youtube channel she started a few months ago. She had faint memories of vlogging herself doing normal things like grocery shopping or going to her brother’s football games. She’d only looked at a few of her storytime videos, including the one where she details how she met Ruel. This was a video she hadn’t seen before, though. It was of her and Ruel together in some resort. It looked like they were on vacation and he explained to her that they were in Amsterdam for some music festival and had decided to make an entire trip out of it since it was so close to their anniversary. They’d coordinated matching outfits for the first weekend and were posing in front of the bathroom mirror together like lovesick idiots.

        “Damn, I’m so jealous of us.”

        Ruel let out a low chuckle at her and skipped through the parts she’d recorded of his performance.

        “Yeah, most people are.” He fast forwarded to a portion of the video after they returned to the hotel. Ruel was in the shower and Y/N was laying on the bed, recently showered, detailing all of the ways she was proud of her boyfriend. He laughed when she poked fun of how he forgot his own lyrics on stage.

        “Well that was almost cute,” he added and locked the phone.

        “Hey, it’s still pretty cute,” she laughed, “You can’t be mad at me for telling the truth, babe.”

        “Babe, huh?” he questioned as he turned to face her.

        “What, is that weird? Or too soon? I mean, you call me ‘bubs’ and ‘love’ all the time,” she looked down and played with the details of her jeans.

        “It’s adorable. I love it. And I love you,” he reassured her as he cupped her face and pulled it in for a puffy kiss. She kissed him back, this time with more dominance. Y/N kissed Ruel like there was a pot of gold hidden somewhere in his mouth that she was determined to get.

        Ruel matched her energy right away. He kissed her back and gripped the back of her neck to guide her face closer into his. They adorned each other with open mouths and full hearts. As they continued, Y/N felt the urge to go further and further with him, exploring his body and getting to know him on a more intimate level. They were so good at making out, it seemed like they’d done it a thousand times before. It felt like she was kissing a lover from a different lifetime, like she’d replayed scenarios over and over which all ended with her loving him. She couldn’t remember ever doing this with him before, but her body remembered. Everything with Ruel came with such ease. Every time he touched her body, she was overcome with euphoria and only craved more. She craved being closer to him, kissing him deeper.

        “Mmm, take this off please,” she tugged on his shirt and he quickly pulled it off before resuming his actions. Y/N felt herself falling into an intoxicated state as she moaned against his mouth. He responded to her by wrapping his hand around her thigh and pulling it closer against him. They both began to move in sync with each other, both giving and taking as their bodies danced a routine they knew too well. Y/N was so distracted by Ruel that she didn’t even hear her mother walk back in through the front door. She only whined when he pulled his face away from hers.

        “Why’dyoustop,” she breathed out. She was out of breath and watched him with puppy dog eyes as he stood up.

        “Your mom is back,” he stated flatly. He was clearly out of breath too and he was trying to calm himself down so he could see what was going on in the front.

       “...so?” she gave him a blank stare and patted on his side of the bed to join her again, “she can let herself out.”

       “Don’t worry, bubs. We’ve got time,” he chuckled to himself and pulled his shirt back on over his head. Y/N sighed and jumped from her side of the bed to join Ruel in the living room.

       “I’m sorry, hun. I forgot the most important box: your things from the hospital.” Y/N’s mother placed a small box on the counter and tapped the top of it lightly, “This is what you had on you when the crash happened. There’s not much in there, just the clothes you were wearing, your wallet, your phone,”

       “My phone?” Her eyes perked up. So did Ruel’s. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. I bet there’s a bunch of clues in there to help jog my memory,” she picked up the box and skipped down the hallway to drop it off. 

       “I’m pretty sure it’s dead, so you’ll have to find a charger for it. You probably have the same kind.” Her mom gestured towards Ruel, who looked like he’d just seen a ghost. His eyes were fixated in thought, emotionless and dazed in a trance.

        “Huh? Oh yeah, probably. Sure.” He snapped out of his guilty state quickly and turned to see Y/N coming back from her bedroom.       

        “Was that it, Mom? Cause we were just about to go out and get some food before it gets dark.” They both said goodbye and hugged Y/N’s mother. Once the door was shut behind her, Y/N grabbed Ruel’s hand with a quickness. His worries were suddenly gone as she led him down the hall. 

        It wasn’t long before they’d continued right where they left off. Y/N was still indulging herself in him and embracing the comfort she felt in his arms. She gripped the fabric of his shirt into her fists to deepen the kiss and felt the vibration from his mouth into hers as he let out muffled moans. With each kiss, she found herself thinking about all of the things she couldn’t wait to do with him before another thought popped into her mind and snapped her out of the daydream. She pulled away from him and turned her head towards the box.

        “I’ve been wondering what was left on my phone,” she gestured to the dresser. “I need to plug it up so I can see what was going on before I lost my memory. It would be cool to see who I last talked to right before my life was ruined, right?” She laughed and began to sit up. Ruel grabbed her hand and lightly pulled it so she could come back down to him.

        “I thought you wanted to do this, yeah? I mean hey, this is our first official night together alone. We can look into the phone later, right?”

        Y/N nodded and laid back down next to him. “Hmmm, you’re right. This first, phone later,” she declared before connecting their lips once more. As Ruel rolled his lanky body on top of hers, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder why Ruel was so against her looking at her phone. Was there a dirty secret in there that he didn’t want her to find? She dismissed her paranoid thoughts and continued.

a/n: okay, so that’s that on that. ugh what is on that phone that he doesn’t want her to see???? i hope this makes sense, i’ve reread it so many times and it seems like crap but i’m still going to post it. thank you for the support of my page, and please send me asks with what fics you would like to see next ;)

[q-gorgeous]

Why Am I So Heavy?

fanfiction

Word count: 4318

Prompt for the Phic Phight by @voidetrap. Danny is a ghost who became half-human after stumbling through a portal to the human world.

guys this is the longest fic ive ever written i hope this keeps up i need to catch up to laz

Footsteps could be heard walking through a forest, the sounds of twigs snapping as two teenagers made their way through the trees.

“C’mon, Sam. The last time you dragged me out here to do some spooky ritual I was hiccuping out daisies for a week. Can’t you find someone else to drag out into the middle of nowhere, or go by yourself?”

“No can do, Tucker. Going on hikes by yourself is dangerous and everyone else was busy.”

Tucker grumbled. “I wish I was busy.”

“Here we are!” Sam shouted, running past Tucker into a clearing in the trees that led to a cliff overlooking the rest of the forest. 

Sam walked over to a large, dead tree and started rummaging around in it’s hollow base. She pulled out a large stick, a toolbox, and a crystal ball. 

“Today the earth and sun’s electromagnetic fields are supposed to form a portal, which usually just exchanges electrons. Though I think if I can get this pentagram set up with these quartz and crystals, I can make it work. Oh! And today’s also the solstice, that’ll help too.”

Tucker watched as Sam walked around the clearing, drawing a large pentagram into the ground with a stick. “Electromagnetic hoohaa? How do you even know what that means?”

Looking up at him, pausing in her task, she blew hair out of her eyes. “Don’t you ever go listen to the Fenton’s when they give presentations at the library? They’re kind of weird, but the concepts they propose are actually pretty rad.”

Tucker shook his head vigorously. “Nuh uh. No way. The last time you took me with it was only the two of us and he spent three hours talking about his childhood. Three hours! I didn’t wanna know about how he cried every night at dinner because he had to eat horse meat.”

Looking back down to her drawing in the dirt, Sam shrugged. “Your loss then. Lately they’ve started bringing their inventions in to show people and they go over their blueprints and everything. Mrs. Fenton is also thinking about doing defense classes. Did you know she’s a fourth degree black belt?”

“Nope, and I don’t really care to learn more.” He squinted his eyes and looked up into the trees, smiling mischievously. “Though… I would like to learn more about Jazz Fenton.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Dream on, Tuck. Now come here and put down these candles and quartz at each point while I lug the crystal ball over here.”

Tucker walked over and bent down to open the toolbox, scooping everything out of it. “Dream on? Next time I see Jazz Fenton I’ll walk right up to her and use one of my signature pick up lines. It’s foolproof!” He placed a candle and quartz on the ground at his feet.

“Okay, Tucker.” Sam grunted as she lifted the crystal ball into her arms. “I’ll hold you to that.”

She placed the crystal ball in the center of the pentagram and walked over to her backpack as Tucker lit each of the candles. She pulled out a book and flipped to her latest entry. Stepping over a log and kneeling behind it, she beckoned Tucker over.

“Okay, come behind here. I’m not sure what’ll happen but the Fenton’s said when they tried opening a ghost portal in college it blew up in their friend’s face.”

“Wait, what?!”

Before Tucker could continue, Sam interrupted him, chanting. 

“Vocare nos spirituum ligno!”

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

Danny floated on his back through the ghost zone, bored out of his mind. Everyone was busy today. 

Ember and Skulker were on a date. Johnny and Kitty were fighting. Even the Box Ghost had something to do! What was a dead guy supposed to do for entertainment around here?

He rolled onto his stomach and let out a large sigh. The ghost zone needed a new attraction or something. Like a theme park. Yeah, maybe he should talk to-

Something a ways ahead of him caught his eye. It looked like a little flicker of green light. Looking closely again, he could see a small swirl of green mist. 

Today just got a lot more interesting. 

He flew over to it but soon it disappeared again, without a trace. He scratched the top of his head. What was that? He floated around the space in a circle, his eyes never leaving the spot. 

After a few seconds, he shrugged. Maybe it was a ghost trying to form that wasn’t very successful. He wondered where it went. Purgatory? Maybe.

Just as Danny was turning away, he could see the swirl again out of the corner of his eye but it increased in size and suddenly Danny was screaming in pain. 

Pain, why was he in so much pain? Were ghosts even supposed to feel this much pain? What was happening?

And suddenly, suddenly he was falling. Falling and falling through this bright, swirling thing that engulfed him. 

The last thought that went through his mind was that he had forgotten what gravity felt like, and with a smack, everything went dark. 

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

“Si vocare te spirituum.” Tucker said as he looked over Sam’s shoulder at her book. “Clearly you don’t know latin.”

Sam was fuming and pushed his face away from her. “Why’d you tell me to use google translate if you KNOW LATIN?!”

Tucker raised his hands in surrender as he backed away from her. “I couldn’t have you knowing I knew latin! I’d be forever dragged into your schemes!”

“Yeah, well-” Sam was cut off as she heard a groan come from the clearing on the other side of the log. Looking over, covering Tucker’s mouth to shush him, she could see a pale skinned boy with black hair laying on top of her now crushed crystal ball. 

A swirling green portal that she hadn’t noticed during her bickering with Tucker was hovering above him, flickering out of existence. Gaze traveling back down to the boy, she scrunched her eyebrows. 

This didn’t look like a ghost. He looked like a normal kid. Why did a normal kid just fall out of her ghost portal?

Sam stood up slowly and stepped over the log and out of Tucker’s grasp as he tried to hold her back. She walked over to the boy and knelt down and was just about to check his pulse when he groaned again, sending her toppling down onto her butt. 

“Ugh, why do I feel so heavy?”

His eyes slowly slid open, and his head shakily raised and his gaze met hers. They stared at each other until he started taking in his surroundings, panic growing on his face. 

“Where am I?! What did you do to me?!” Sam shook her head, eyes wide. “I don’t know! I was trying to open a portal to the ghost zone and then you fell out! What were you even doing in there?”

“What was I doing in there? What do you think I was doing in there? I’m a ghost!”

Tucker cleared his throat from where he still knelt behind the log. “Sorry to break it to you, dude, but you don’t look like any ghost I’ve ever seen.” “What do you-” The boy stopped as his hair fell into his eyes. “Black? My hair isn’t black! What’s going on?!”

Sam hurriedly pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened the camera, pointing it at his face so he could see himself. “What are you supposed to look like?”

The boy grabbed his hair, pulled on the skin under his blue eyes, pinched his arms. His breaths started coming faster and faster until he glared up at Sam, his eyes now flashing green. “What did you do to me?!” He yelled, the sound much louder than anything a human should be capable of, prompting Sam and Tucker to cover their ears.

“I don’t know!” Sam shouted, her heart beating wildly. “I was just trying to open a portal to see if the ghost zone was real! I didn’t know you’d be there!”

“I wanna go home!” He wailed, sending the candles and quartz flying away from the pentagram. 

A flash of white light appeared around the boy’s waist, traveling across his figure until a glowing ghost with white hair lay on the ground instead. Floating up, he flexed his fingers and pulled an ectoblast into his hand. 

“Sam!” Tucker shouted. “When you’re done talking to ghosts aren’t you supposed to say goodbye to them when they need to leave? Right”

She nodded and looked back up at the boy. “Yeah. Goodbye, spirit! Begone!”

He kept floating steadily towards her, an angry look in his eyes. 

Panic flared up inside her chest. 

“Goodbye! Au revoir! Auf wiedersehen!”

“Sam?!” Tucker shrieked. 

“It’s not working!”

The ghost boy pulled back an arm, readying to throw the ectoplasm in his hand when he shuddered and dropped to the ground, the bright flash appearing once again and leaving behind the same, human looking boy from before. 

“What is this?” He grumbled into the dirt. “I feel so heavy and tired. And warm. Gosh, way too warm.”

Sam listened to him wheeze in confusion, her brows furrowed. Ghosts didn’t need to breathe, did they? Why was this one out of breath on the ground?

She scooted towards him slowly and held out her hand to him.

“Can I see something?” She asked softly. 

He looked at her hand, puzzled, before placing his own on top of it. Sam cradled it with one hand and with the other she took two fingers and placed them on his wrist.

Her mouth dropped open. 

“You… You have a pulse.”

“What?” He pulled his hand away, glaring down at the offending appendage. “That can’t be possible.”

“Well it’s there.” She said, nodding towards him. “ Check for yourself.”

He squinted at her, brows drawn, but reached up two fingers and placed them on the side of his neck. His eyes shot open and he looked back at her in disbelief. 

“But… I died. I was a ghost. This can’t… This isn’t…”

The trio was silent for a few moments until Tucker plopped down next to Sam.

“What do we do now?” He asked. 

In response, the ghost boy’s stomach grumbled and with wide eyes he looked at it in shock. 

“Well.” Sam said. “I guess we need to get him some food. Let’s start cleaning up.”

Tucker and Sam began cleaning up, storing the candles and quartz back in the toolbox and erasing the pentagram while the ghost boy just stared at the ground.

“Uh, Sam?” Tucker started. “What are we going to do about the crystal ball?”

Sam looked at the ground where it was smashed to pieces and groaned. 

“We’ll have to lug a garbage bag back with us. Can you grab the shovel from the tree and I’ll get a bag from my backpack?”

“Can do, Stew.” Tucker saluted and walked over to the hollow in the trunk. 

Sam picked up the book she had dropped on the ground and stuck it in her backpack before grabbing a bag. Turning back around she saw the ghost boy standing shakily, one hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Sorry for breaking your...thing.”

Sam shrugged. “It’s okay, I can just get a new one. It’s not like it was really your fault anyways.”

As she held the bag open, Tucker began scooping up shards of the crystal ball and soon Sam tied it off, slinging it over her shoulder. After storing the shovel back in the tree Tucker joined the two.

“So, man, did you ever say what your name was?”

“Oh, uh, Danny. Danny Phantom.”

“Nice to meet you, sort of.” Danny’s face fell at that and Tucker back tracked. “But it’s going good now! Right? First impressions aren’t everything!”

Sam rolled her eyes. “I’m Sam, and that’s Tucker, my reluctant right hand man.”

Tucker flared up the collar on his button up shirt. “That’s Tucker Foley, TF for Too Fine.”

Chuckling, Sam elbowed him. 

“Well, since you’ll need sustenance and shelter for an unforeseeable amount of time, you can sleep over at my house tonight!”

Sam’s face dropped. “Oh my god, Tucker.”

“What? It’s not weird to have sleepovers at our age. It just means we have extra friend time.”

“Not that! What are we supposed to do with him? He’s supposed to be dead! He doesn’t have a birth certificate or any kind of identification! And it’s not like he can stay with us forever. My parents would freak.”

“Hm.” Tucker tapped his chin. “I did not think of that.”

Danny groaned. “So I have to eat food now and find shelter without having anyway to do that? Being dead is so much easier.”

“We’ll make it work!” Sam rushed. “Let’s just go to the Nasty Burger and get something to eat first. Then we’ll figure something out.”

Both boys nodded simultaneously. 

“Okay.”

“Sounds good.”

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

The three were in a booth at the Nasty Burger, Sam and Tucker long finished with their food while Danny was on his sixth round of a Mighty Meaty Burger meal. 

“Dude, even if you haven’t eaten since you died surely you aren’t that hungry? You’ve only felt hunger for like, an hour now.” Tucker said incredulously as he tapped something on his phone. 

“Try not eating anything for an entire year and see how much you miss the feeling of eating delicious food.” Danny quipped back, his mouth full. 

“You got me there.” Tucker said as he threw a finger gun towards Danny. 

“Okay, guys, I think we need to start talking about what we’re going to do instead of watching Danny eat.” She tapped her chin as she thought. “We could go talk to the Fentons!”

Tucker looked at her, a deadpan expression on his face. 

“You want to go talk to the Fentons, who are ghost hunters, about this ghost-human hybrid that we accidentally unleashed?”

“Wait ghost hunters?” Danny mumbled around a mouth full of food. 

“Who else are we gonna talk to? They’re the only people who study ghosts around here, and they know me. No one else would want to listen to a bunch of kids anyways.”

“Wait, Sam, can we go back to the ghost hunter part-” 

“Do you know how risky it would be to bring him there?” Tucker asked. “We don’t know what’d they’d do to him, especially because there’d be no trace of him, since he's, you know, dead.”

“Tucker-”

“They’re not gonna kidnap him, Tucker!”

“How do you-”

“GUYS!” Danny yelled.

Sam and Tucker paused in their bickering, looking at Danny’s glowing green eyes. 

“Can you explain the ghost hunters thing?”

“Oh. Right.” Sam says. “Well, they’ve been studying ectology since they were in college, they even tried to create a ghost portal but it was unsuccessful. Lately they’ve been working on a newer model and an arsenal of ghost hunting weapons, but they haven’t had the chance to really test them yet.” She pulls a flyer out of her backpack. 

“They do presentations at the library every week.”

Danny looks at the paper for a few moments before resting his face in his hands. 

“Why would you want to give them a chance to test their weapons? Wouldn’t they be gung ho at any opportunity?”

“Not necessarily!” Sam said rushedly. “They only just moved here a couple months ago but they’re very nice, though a little over the top. They have two daughters too. They should be able to realize that you’re just a kid that needs help.” 

Danny raised his head back up and leveled a stare at her. 

“When's the next meeting?” He asked. 

“Tomorrow at noon.”

He leaned back in his seat, head tilted against the back, and groaned. “Ugh. I guess we really have no other option.” Tucker swiped a fry from Danny’s tray. “Don’t worry man. If they try anything, they’ll probably be stopped by Jazz. She doesn’t believe in the whole ghost schtick.”

“Jazz?” Danny asked as he picked up his burger. 

“That’s the oldest Fenton daughter. They also have a daughter named Elle. She sort of looks like you, actually.” Sam said. 

“Yeah. She’s a feisty little gremlin. Always beating my high scores when we go to the arcade.” Tucker pouted. 

Sam looked at her watch, checking the time. “Well guys, I think we better get going. It’s getting pretty late. Don’t wanna miss the presentation tomorrow.” She jittered excitedly in her seat. “I can’t wait to tell them I opened a ghost portal!”

“Are you into all their ecto, ghost hunting stuff?” Danny asked wryly. 

“Not really. I’m more into witchcraft and goth stuff. Ghosts just happened to fall in between those somewhere.” Sam stood up and collected her trash. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. I’ll meet you at Tucker’s house.”

She waved goodbye and left the restaurant. 

“So…” Tucker started. “Do you wanna go back to my place and play some video games?”

“Video games?” Danny asked. 

Tucker clutched his chest in mock horror. “You don’t remember video games?! Forget sleep, there’s much you need to see!”

And with that, Tucker jumped up and dragged Danny out the door by the wrist. 

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

Danny walked out the front door of Tucker’s house, yawning. When he blinked open his eyes he could see Sam standing there, tapping her foot. 

“What? I haven’t weighed this much in a year. Walking around was tiring.” Danny told her.

“We also played video games until three in the morning.” Tucker yawned as he walked out behind him.

“Why would you tell her that?” Danny asked, turning around. 

“To make her mad?” Tucker shrugged. 

Sam sighed. “Whatever guys. Let’s just get going. They’re starting soon.”

They walked down the street in silence until Danny spoke. 

“How many people usually go to these things? Is there a lot?”

“No.” Sam said. “Usually it’s just me. And Tucker when I can get him to go.”

Tucker groans. “I just hope Mr. Fenton doesn’t get into telling His Life Story: Volume Two. It was so boring the last time.”

“What do we do if they won’t help us?” Danny asked.

Sam and Tucker looked at each other in silence. Sam took a deep breath and spoke. “I’m sure they’ll help us. They’re nice people.”

Soon they walked inside the library, the building quiet except for the few hushed voices reading children's books and the boisterous laughter that could be heard coming from Mr. Fenton across the building. When Danny heard it, he paused, hands clenched into fists. 

“What if they hate me? What if they won’t help us? I’ll just be stuck here, alive and homeless. What if they strap me down on some table, tearing me apart molecule by molecule?”

Sam turned to face Danny, walking towards him and resting her hands on his shoulders. “They probably won’t be able to tell anyways. It’ll be alright. We’ll go in and wait until the meeting is over and then go talk to them.”

Danny’s shoulders shook, and he took a deep breath and nodded. 

Together, the three of them walked to the presentation room. 

“Just remember, stay calm. It’ll be-”

A clatter resounded through the room as they crossed through the door.

“Danno?”

Mr. Fenton was standing in front of the projector screen, an ectogun laying on the floor at his feet. His eyes were wide and haunted, looking straight at Danny.

Looking behind him, Danny wore a confused expression on his face.

“Me?” He said, pointing at himself. 

The older man nodded. “But how are you… You… This can’t be possible.” He looked Danny over again and then his gaze traveled to Sam. “Ms. Manson, what..?”

“Do you know Danny, Mr. Fenton?” Sam asked softly, confused. 

“He’s my son.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open and she looked at Tucker who was leaning up against the door frame, staring blankly at the floor. Danny still looked confused, but a chirpy voice soon interrupted them. 

“Jack, sweetie, the staff room ran out of sugar again but I think your coffee should be fine with only four packets.” 

The three kids turned around to see Mrs. Fenton standing behind them, two coffee cups in her hands. She smiled at them until her gaze landed on Danny. Her expression soured and she dropped the coffees, pulling out an ectogun from her suit pointing it at Danny.

“What is this ectoplasmic scum doing here impersonating our boy?!”

“Wait!” Sam shouted, putting herself between the barrel of Mrs. Fenton’s gun and Danny. “He has a pulse!” “That’s impossible.” Mrs. Fenton scoffed. “Our son passed a year ago. That’s just a form of post human consciousness.”

“No, please!” Sam reached behind her, searching for Danny’s hand. Once she found it, he grabbed it in a death grip, she pulled it forward, opening up his wrist for the woman. “Please, trust me.”

Mrs. Fenton threw another sour look towards Sam, but obliged the girl. She placed her fingers over Danny’s wrist and waited. Once she felt the fast pulse underneath his skin, her eyes widened and shock flashed across her face. 

Dropping his wrist, she stepped back, nearly collapsing until Tucker caught her. 

“What is this?” Maddie whispered. “What happened?”

Sam moved to sit down at one of the chairs in the room, still holding Danny’s hand and pulling him behind her. “Yesterday had the perfect atmosphere and phenomenon to create a natural ghost portal and after one of your presentations I wanted to try, because who knew when I’d get a better chance.

“When we finished the ritual a swirling green portal formed and he fell out like this but…”

“He has two forms.” Tucker continued. “And he can still do ghost stuff. But he can feel hunger and gravity and he produces heat. Has a pulse. But he doesn’t seem to remember anything.”

“We came to talk to you guys because we didn’t know what to do… Like, what are we gonna do with someone with no identification who’s supposed to be dead?” Sam asked. 

Mr. Fenton knelt down in front of Danny, touseling the boy's hair, and rested his hands on his shoulders. 

“Do you want to come back home with us? Do you trust us?”

Danny’s grip was still tight on Sam’s hand, and he looked from Mr. Fenton to Mrs. Fenton, who had tears in her eyes and her own tight grip on Tucker’s hand. He nodded.

Mr. Fenton’s own eyes filled with tears and he wrapped Danny up in a bear hug, squeezing the life right back out of him. Slowly, Danny lifted his own arms up around the man, feeling his own tears running down his face. 

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

One Month Later

“Haha! Beat you again!” Elle laughed.

“Man, you really are a little gremlin, aren’t you?” Danny shot back at her, throwing a pillow in her face. 

“Excuse you, I’m adorable.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Of course you are.”

He clicked on the New Round option in the game, going through the fighters and picking the same character as he did for the last fight.

A small frown formed on Elle’s face. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything?”

“Yeah, pretty sure. Why do you ask?” He shot her a look before the round started. 

“You keep picking the same character that had been your favorite before…”

Elle trailed off and when Danny turned to look at her there were tears in her eyes. 

“No, no don’t cry, Elle. It’s alright. I’m here now. That’s pretty cool, isn’t it?”

She sniffed and rubbed some tears off her face. “Yeah. It’s the only thing I could’ve asked for.” She paused. “Do you think you’ll ever remember?”

Danny looked down at his hands. “I’m not sure. But even if I don’t I’ll still be here for you whenever you need it, okay?”

Elle smiled. “Okay.”

Danny’s phone chirped and he pulled it out from his pocket. 

“Oh, that’s Sam. We’re supposed to go see that new movie with Tucker. Rematch when I get home?”

“Can it be called a rematch if I know you’re gonna lose again?”

“You wish!” He pulled her into a side hug. “See you when I get home?”

“Yeah. See you!” She waved him off.

Danny ran down the stairs and was about to bolt out the door to greet his friends when Jazz stopped him. 

“Where are you going, little brother?” She asked.

Danny rolled his eyes at the name. “Just to see a movie with Sam and Tucker. I’ll be back in a couple hours, okay?”

Jazz nodded and walked over to him. “Can I have a hug before you leave?”

Danny opened his arms and she pulled him into a tight hug. 

“Stay safe.” She whispered.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the power of ghost muscles now.”

Jazz snorted and pushed Danny towards the door. “Okay. Off you go.” 

He opened the door to see Sam and Tucker standing outside it. When Sam looked up, she elbowed Tucker in the side and pointed past Danny at Jazz. 

“Pft, I’ve been practicing. This’ll be no biggie.”

Clearing his throat, Tucker caught Jazz’s attention. 

“Do you like dates? How do you feel about a raisin?” He shot a pair of finger guns at her. 

Jazz tsked and smiled at Tucker. “Dates are very tasty, and a raisin would be a delicious treat!”

Confusion crossed over Tucker’s face before horror broke across it. Sam broke out laughing beside him. 

“Better luck next time, Tucker.” Jazz said before walking back to the kitchen.

Tucker kneeled onto the ground, holding his face in his hands. “The shame. I’ve taken the honor from my family's name. I’ve embarrassed myself for the last time.”

“As if.” Sam snorted. 

“Hey!” Tucker shouted at her.

Danny chuckled and shook his head at his friend's antics. 

“Come on, guys. Let’s go see this movie.”

[moos-cow]

Gemini

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 | Chapter 1a | Chapter 1b | Chapter 1c | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

“Mmm,” Amaya roughly groaned from under a breath as her eyes slowly opened, blinking to clear the hazy vision around her. She tried to push herself up to sit, but the soreness in her arms made getting up too difficult. She fell back down on the cushions with a soft thud. 

Well, shit.

“Hey,” A gentle voice called as a hand rested on her shoulder. “Take it easy.”

She turned to the side to see the Jack of Spades seated beside her, free of his jacket and humongous sword. “Where… Where am I?” 

“You’re at the Black Army Headquarters.”

The what?

She tried to sit back up once again with a little help from Luka. The sudden movement caused her head to throb. She winced and pressed a hand against her temple, feeling a slight discomfort on the back of her hand-- an IV line was injected into her.

Her brows creased into a frown, trying to recall the earlier events, "What happened?" 

"You suddenly collapsed this morning."

This morni- Right. after that magic show with the Red Army at the Town Square.

“What time is it?” 

“Just past 1 in the morning.”

“God-” she was at a loss for words. She slowly looked around the dimly lit room. From the medical equipment visible, she could tell that she was at the infirmary. Aside from Luka, the Queen of Spades was also with them there, sound asleep on the sofa by the door with her olive jacket wrapped around his arm.

“Good. You’re up.” A familiar red-head marched in with a handful of supplies and set them down on the consultation table. The Seven of Hearts. He wasn’t wearing his red and white uniform tonight, just plain casual clothes.

Amaya's frown deepened as she glanced at Luka in confusion, and he replied in earnest, “He’s a doctor. Cradle’s best.”

“But he’s-”

“-A doctor, not a soldier.” Kyle cut her off, clearly uninterested in arguing with a new patient. Sirius had called him in earlier at the request of the Black Army doctor, who unfortunately, wasn’t as well versed as Kyle with the complications of natural magic in humans.

“So. How are you feeling?” the doctor asks, making his way to her side to do a routinary check of her vital signs and IV drops with a clipboard and pad in hand. 

“Fine, I guess. Exhausted. My head hurts.”

“That’s expected.” he brushed off while writing down notes on the pad.

“Expected?” she asks, watching his careful movements as he deftly pulled out the needle from her hand and immediately covered it with a small bandage.

"One of the side effects of using magic is fatigue. It can literally drain the life out of you if you’re not careful enough. Better remember that.” 

“Here.” Kyle handed her a small bottle of pills, a couple of sachets, and a prescription paper, "Get some rest, dissolve this in water for hydration, and take one pill as needed if your head gets in the way. Other than that, you’re good to go.”

“Thanks... doc.”

“‘Kyle’ will do. I’ll be at the pub if you’ll need me.” he waves off to both Luka and Amaya, closing the door behind him as he leaves the room.

She blankly stared at her hands for some time, inspecting as if it were something new. Pondering on Kyle’s statement, questions quickly filled her mind-- there was so much she didn't know, so much she didn't understand. She’d never been thrown into a situation as bad as this one. No resources. No intel. She was in one of the Headquarters, but she wasn’t sure if she was taken as a prisoner or not. She could ask, but--

"Hey," Her thoughts were broken as soon as Luka called her. "I’ll fix you up something to eat. Do you have any preferences?"

It took her a while before his words sunk and registered in her head. Not that she was expecting an interrogation now that she’s awake but--

"Oh no, don't bother." She slipped her legs out of the blanket, trying to keep the struggle of getting out of bed at the minimum "Please, you've already done more than enough."

A deep voice called out from across the room, startling her and stopping her in her tracks. "Better eat, little lady. You’ve been out the whole day."

Sirius got up from the sofa and collapsed, face down, on the bed next to hers. “I’ll have whatever she’s having.” 

She shrugged in defeat. There wasn’t any use in declining now. Aside from the three orders of iced coffee she drank throughout the day, she hadn't had much of a decent meal since breakfast. “Anything that isn’t spicy?”

Luka left with a nod, leaving her to the silence of the infirmary. 

She stood up from the bed and tried to walk around on her own-- gauging if she could make a run for it or not. Her legs slightly shook, and her knees felt like they'd unbuckle at a simple misstep. For the first time in a long time, walking felt like an absolute chore and her legs screamed a resounding no.

After a few laps around the room, Amaya crash-landed on the sofa just as Luka came in with some sandwiches and drinks on a tray. He looked at her with confused widened eyes, a striking golden-amber color just like Jonah’s.

“I can walk now,” she muttered and chuckled away at her own mischief.

Luka handed her a sandwich before turning to wake Sirius up from his slumber, alternating between shaking him on the shoulder and poking him on the face. As amusing as the scene was, it took a while before the Queen of Spades got up to join in their past-midnight snack.

“So what’s in this?” She turned to Luka and opened the sandwich just a bit to inspect.

“Try to make a wild guess, little lady,” Sirius spoke through bites.

One bite, and her face lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning. “Oh, this is good!” she covered her mouth with a free hand, speaking through a mouthful of food. “Okay. Let’s see… egg, mayonnaise, green onion, pickles, tomatoes, lettuce, and something I can’t put my finger on.”

“Mustard” Luka answered with a soft smile.

“Mustard? The yellow thing?” She tilted her head to the side, earning a questioning look from the two. “I’ve never eaten mustard before.”

“There’s always a first time for everything.” Sirius chuckled.

“Yeah, guess there is.” her smile unconsciously faded as she played with the sandwich in hand, pressing the edges together in a poor attempt to seal the bread. Her mind started to wander off again.

The weight of a hand fell on her shoulder. "Hey," Sirius called out, pulling her away from her thoughts "Don't worry. We'll make sure you find your way home."  

"Thanks." she forced back a smile as she took another bite of the sandwich. Maybe they weren’t so bad after all?

As initiated by Sirius, food became the sole topic of conversation during their small meal; from sharing their likes to dislikes, she learned that their food in Cradle wasn’t far off from what she had in the Land of Reason-- albeit mostly of western cuisine, she haphazardly made a light promise to share some of the recipes she knew from back home to the two.

Time passed by quicker than expected, and soon her watch started to sound. A soft beeping alarm, informing her of the new hour. “Ah, its 2 already.”

She tore open one of the sachets Kyle had given her earlier and dissolved its powdery contents into her glass of water before downing it in one go. Its faint apple scent contradicted its terrible gummy taste.

“Ah, have any of you seen my bag by any chance?” Onyx rapidly eyes scanned the infirmary just as they began to dish out the plates; she needed something to wash away the taste of the medicine, and her wafer what just what she had in mind. “I had it with me in the carriage this morning.”

“It’s in your room,” Luka replied, filling her glass with some water-- but that didn’t really help at all.

“My room? I have a room? Why do I have a room?”

“Save your questions for tomorrow, little lady. Now, you two go and rest. I’ll clean up here.” Sirius took the dishes from Luka and Amaya and practically shoved them out the infirmary.

Shoes and jacket in hand, Luka slowly paced beside her as he quietly walked her to her room. He asked her to leave it unlocked, just in case she collapsed again and needed to be reached immediately.

The room was beautifully simple, hotel-like to say the least. White and turquoise complemented the contemporary Victorian furnishings; fresh flowers in pretty vases were just by the window and center table; and, a complete set of toiletries were placed on the dresser next to the bathroom attached to the room.

Mouth stuffed with wafer, Amaya undressed and headed for the bathroom. The full body mirror inside immediately graced her with a full view of her slightly scathed body. Despite the sweetness in her mouth, her face contorted in disgust, eyes drawn to the area of her latest injuries-- two wounds to the left of her torso. Both patched with waterproof bandages.

How can you manage to take so many? 

A few minutes passed and the gentle scent of lavender filled the air; she took a long and relaxing dip in the warm water of the tub, relieving her body of the tension and fatigue endured from the long night before. 

She let out an exasperatedly long sigh as she sunk deeper. The night hadn’t ended how she expected it to end, and that confused her. She was thankful for their care, but a part of her-- that gut feeling called out to her.

What would they want in return?

30 days.

[graveyarddirtseries]

Graveyard Dirt & Salt

Chapter 6

Not wanting to touch her without permission, knowing how his mother was with men and how big he was and how scary he could be, the Lieutenant sat beside her awkwardly for a moment, before settling his hand on his knee, palm open, facing the vaulted ceiling above their heads. It was an offering for her if she needed it and she took it after a moment, squeezing with a small, strong hand.

The backroom of the Catholic church was lit only by the flickering light of a couple small candles.

In the glow the Lieutenant watched as Benny preened in front of a full length mirror, he felt like his face was drawn in a grim, tight mask, but in the reflection seen over his shoulder, all he saw was a tired, middle aged marine who could use a good shower and a shave.

The shadows cast by the light hooded his eyes in darkness, making him appear like a spectre, some boogin from out of a Gothic novel.

The thing about mirrors he never cared for, was how honest they were. They held no dogs in the fight when it came to showing a man everything. You'd see time and life on your own face, wrinkles and worries and everything the sun kissed in a mirror. And from his own experience, after his mama died, the Lieutenant knew that the mirror also reflected emotion.

It was before a mirror that his Mamere had told him that his mama was gone. Thirteen years old, holding his toothbrush in his hand, staring at the old woman over his shoulder. He thought time would heal his mama, that everything bad that had happened to her would fade with time.

In his youth, being as foolish as all children were, Lafayette Vancoughnett IV, named after his Papere and not the man who had raped him into his mama's womb, thought that his mama would come back someday. That they would be together.

As he aged in the mirror, any reflection he looked into, the face he saw was of a man who came to realize that he didn't look much like his mama. The face that looked back at him, he theorized, must have been the same face that had taken his mama into those dark woods, held her down, and forced reality on her.

As time became lines etched on his face, Lafayette came understand that this face of his was why his mama could never really look at him. That if he had maybe stopped forcing his Papere to bring him to the hospital where his mama was, that maybe she wouldn't have to relive that night in the woods over and over and over again.

The mirrors and reflections of his face had always brought back into his mind how utterly he loathed himself, because he loathed the man who had driven his mama into a grave at the age of only twenty-nine.

His face wasn't his own, because his face belonged to a monster.

And maybe if he hadn't lived, if maybe sweet Louise, his mama, would still be alive. And she'd be married, with a whole bunch of children who didn't haunt her the way this only son of hers did.

If Lafayette had known then, what he knew now, he would have run off, left Louise to her happy home, to the parents who did their best to love her and the bastard offspring of the crime committed against her.

He would have done everything to make it right.

But he was a boy and he never knew entirely why his mama couldn't look at him, why she was in a hospital.

In those days girls like her, girls like his mama, they didn't stay home on medication to balance the serotonin in them. In those days the best you could do for a girl who tried three times to kill herself, to end the misery she was in, was to put her away. Surround her with padded rooms and locked doors and nurses.

He would have burned his face off, if only to spare Louise the terror he had unknowingly brought upon her every time he visited her. All he wanted in his greedy youth was a hug or a smile or for her to even notice him. He would bring her report cards and drawings and little things he found that he wanted to share with his mother, and the only thing he ever brought her that lingered with Louise were bad memories of a broken night, leaves in her hair, bruising and dried tears on her face.

No silly turkey's made of the cut out outline of his hand could ever smooth over what that man did to a fifteen year old girl.

So, no, he kept clear of mirrors when he could, because he didn't care for the reminder. The face of the monster he wore it haunted him as much as it haunted his mama.

“You still with me, Cajun?”

Snapped from his thoughts, the marine whipped his head up to meet Benny's gaze in the reflection. “Yeah.”

Benny narrowed his sharp eyes at him, but thankfully kept quiet, instead, turning around with his arms out.

“How do I look?”

“You look good,” he finally managed to say. Hoping the words might break the spell of the haunted figure in the mirror. “Like a real priest.”

“Think priests look good, Cajun?” Benny teased, pulling a little at the dog collar at his throat.

Opening his mouth to give the fancy man a smart assed response, the Lieutenant was distracted by Benny suddenly whipping his head to the right to peer at the open doorway where Mena stood like a pocket-sized ghost, her face haunted in the flickering of the candles.

She stood in her pink pyjamas with the pretty little white polka dots and her short, almost black hair ruffled from sleep, or rather perhaps, sleeplessness.

“What's the meaning of this?” She asked in a tremulous tone, bleating like a lost sheep on the open plains.

Benny spoke first, slowly and unsure, halfway between teasing and mocking, “fashion show?”

“Lieutenant?” She asked, turning to him.

“Paon thinks he's gonna try lighting out on his own.” He said helpfully. “Thinks it's best if he heads out alone to try to find these men. And I think he's right. You all need me here and that kid isn't ready to get into a fight.”

“Very well,” she said, holding up a hand, fingers spread, gesturing vaguely at Benny, “but why the blasphemy?” That tiny hand then went to touch her chest, just at the base of her throat.

“Devil worship,” Benny retorted quickly, grinning wickedly. “At an orgy.”

“Benny,” the Lieutenant said firmly, it was both to begin his sentence and a warning, “thinks it might make the men less inclined to just kill him if he hides behind the cloth.”

“And Annie?”

“I'll be back for her,” Benny said, suddenly serious.

“And here I thought you were beginning to like us, Mr. Malone,” Mena teased a little.

Reaching out, Benny tugged at the lapel on Mena's pyjama top, before his hand danced up and he tweaked her chin. “If you're going to miss me that much, at least be waiting with a kiss when I get back, huh?” He teased.

Mena slapped his hand away with a quick as a snake swat, before saying, “your flirtations have never and will never work on me, Mr. Malone. Now, if you're going to be parading around like a fool in a dog collar, at least do it right. You want to lose the vestments and wear something simple. A full length cassock might be best for a long distance recognition, but we can layer it and once you're in, you can take it off for better movement.” She said, moving towards the closet.

“What are you doing up so late, anyways?” The Lieutenant asked.

“I came to light a candle for Sister Mary Patrick, I couldn't sleep and thought I'd say another prayer for her.” Mena replied curtly. The subject of the nun off limits in just her tone. As she pulled out a few things from the closet, she said, “I really wish you two wouldn't leave me out of things like this.”

“Well, it's...not a sexist thing,” Benny said. “It’s a nun kind of ruins the party thing.”

“You make the fancy man uncomfortable,” the Lieutenant said with a smirk.

“Being in the presence of raw sexuality can do that to a man, I'm told,” Mena sighed.

There was a beat where the Lieutenant thought he hadn't really heard what he'd heard, where even Benny cast a furrowed, confused look at the Cajun.

Setting the black garments down on the table with a frustrated sigh, Mena said, “I...I haven't been sleeping and that was...a slip of the tongue.”

“No,” Benny argued lightly. “You said what you said and you can't unsay it. Abbess,” he exclaimed, “do you have a dirty sense of humour?”

“I'm exhausted and you boys drive me a little...batty.”

Gasping, Benny gripped his chest in much the same place Mena had clutched her own breast earlier. “Language, Abbess!”

Mena gave him a stern, displeased look and said, “here, put these on. They'll be cooler in the Georgian heat and better to blend in later.”

Sitting in the front pew of the church, waiting for Benny to dress, the Lieutenant watched as Mena finished up her prayer for Sister Mary Patrick, before moving to sit in the pew beside him. The light she had lit for the poor nun flickering in the dark like a lightning bug all a glow.

“La misère semble toujours vous suivre.” He murmured sadly.

“Beg your pardon?” Mena asked.

The Lieutenant shook his head a little. “Just something my mama used to say to me.”

“What does it mean?”

Almost hypnotized by the flickering candle, the Lieutenant was quiet for a moment, contemplating getting up and pacing. He didn't do well with just sitting, not when there was so much that needed doing.

“Lieutenant?” Mena asked.

“Misery seems to always follow you. La misère semble toujours vous suivre, Lafayette, she'd say.” He replied, still watching the flame.

“That's hardly a kind thing to say to a boy,” Mena argued gently.

“Mais, she wasn't wrong,” he returned, easing back in the pew to settle in more comfortably. Seems whichever way he wriggled his ass, the hard wood wasn't going to offer comfort. It seemed a perfect metaphor to how he felt about religion in general, he supposed.

Beside him Mena was quiet, prim and pretty as she always was, sitting like a queen on the pew, not a wriggle or a squirm to her posture on the hard wood under her derriere.

“The first person I saw torn apart by the uggies was from above. We were being sent in to a hospital towards the end, when things got out of hand and as the 'copter set down, I watched a young nurse run out towards us in the parking lot and they set upon her like a pack of wolves. They don't eat them, the dead, they just...have this abnormal anger to them, this hatred of the living. Or maybe they aren't dead and just hate those who aren't infected, aren't claimed by whatever it is that's got a hold on them.” He glanced over at the nun, her face stoic, eyes on the flickering light. “Lord, I never saw anything like that. I was startled, afraid, I don't feel fear like normal people, I never have. Things that should scare me only drive me to wonder, to curiosity. But I was scared then. I was helpless for the first time in my life, I felt like my own body wouldn't move, wouldn't act. You get to used to it. To them. You wander around outside these walls long enough and you see them as an annoyance, another bump in the road. But they were people, they are people, I suppose. Something preyed on them and they fell.”

“You said infection,” Mena asked.

He nodded.

“Do you...are they not dead then?”

“I don't know. Everyone who knows what this is is buried underground in their bunkers, holed up until this all blows over. I'm just a marine, Missy, I'm not a scientist or a politician. I'm muscle and metal.”

Glancing over, he spied a sort of furrow to her brow and knew immediately what it was.

“Don't worry,” he said, trying to soothe her, “you haven't been killing anyone who would object. If they aren't dead, they aren't ever going to come back to us the way they were. It's either you're killing abominations or mercy killing the dying.”

“Still not much of a consolation.”

“Hey,” he said firmly. “You saw how they took to Sister Mary Patrick. They would do that to any of us. Killing them is just like clearing your world of misery.”

“That could be said by either side of this fight, Lieutenant.”

“Sure,” he agreed. “But only one of these sides can talk and rationalize.”

Emerging from the sacristy, Benny stepped up to the pulpit. He looked like a priest and that was at least a little comforting to the Lieutenant. Maybe his plan wasn't so bad.

“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Benny said from behind the pulpit.

“Did you really study the bible this afternoon, Mr. Malone?” Mena asked. “I'm rather impressed.” Standing up, she approached him. “When I saw you with the bible in the shadows of the church, I thought maybe you were just being mocking.”

Benny grinned. “Maybe I was. Or maybe I was pulling shit out of my ass and flinging it to see what stuck. Hey, check this out,” he went on, running a hand through his hair, settling it back into less of a loose finger brushing and more into a tamped down, alter-boy style. “Huh? Priestly.”

“Are you sure about this, paon?” The Lieutenant asked one last time, feeling like he needed to ask it.

Benny nodded. “Yeah. Jesus, don't start crying or I'm going to start crying. Fuck.”

“Language in the church, please?” Mena asked, sounded like she was hanging by a string on patience with the man.

For a brief moment, in the dark of the night, lit only by the flickering candle of Sister Mary Patrick's memory, the three of them milled about, Benny rubbing the bottom of his expensive ankle boot over the red carpeting by the pulpit, Mena sitting perched like a pretty sparrow on the pew beside the Lieutenant who was gazing at the candle.

“Welp,” Benny finally said. “I'm going head off.”

Mena stood up suddenly, almost panicked. “I don't like this. No. You're not going. We can think of something else, something better.”

“It's really cute that you're already in love with me,” Benny said with a grin. “But, babe, I can take care of myself. I promise.”

“No offence, Mr. Malone, but by the looks of your suit and your shoes and that fifty dollar grin, I'd say you have-”

“JSOC,” Benny said suddenly. He said it so simply that for a moment the Lieutenant didn't register his words, before the marine was suddenly intrigued.

“What?” He asked asked.

Benny scowled. “Fuck it, society's fucked anyways. I was...tasked with doing things for the military.”

“What things?” Mena demanded.

“Intel,” the Lieutenant supplied for him. “He was with Delta Force, JSOC.”

“No,” Benny said. “It wasn't just intel you dumb fucking marine. It's...I can handle my fucking self, alright? Both of you need to just...calm your asses down. I promise you that I will be just fine.”

“You're a man of a many hats,” the Lieutenant said.

“I look good in them,” Benny replied. “Just keep that fucking kid alive, alright? I'll be back in contact with both of you. And don't pray for me,” he pointed firmly at Mena, “that's a defeatist fucking attitude.”

“I didn't say I was going to,” she returned archly.

“Rough, that's rough,” Benny returned. “Alright, I'm out of here. Don't get anymore nuns killed, marine.”

The Lieutenant winced like he'd been slapped. “Just don't get yourself killed. We need the intel you're getting us.”

“Aw, want a kiss goodbye, angel face?” Benny asked him.

The Lieutenant scoffed. “You get us some good fucking dirt on these men and I'll kiss you right on the mouth when you come back.”

“I'm holding you to that,” Benny returned, walking backwards down the aisle towards the font and the door. “Abbess? You and me,” he made a suggestive gesture as he continued to walk backwards in the near dark. “Huh? It's gonna happen. We'll have a threeway in the fucking bell tower. Think about it!”

“Don't think I haven't already,” Mena replied with a small, almost wicked gleam in her eyes.

Tripping a little by the font, Benny chuckled, catching himself, before turning and leaving.

In the silence of Benny's absence, the Lieutenant grinned a little at the nun beside him.

“What?” She demanded demurely as she turned back to face the front of the church.

“Nothing,”he replied.

“That man should get as good as he gives,” she said, shrugging her shoulders like a hen ruffling her feathers.

“You have a real dirty streak to you, Abbess,” he murmured, staring straight ahead.

It only took a moment, before a small, sad grin appeared on her face. “I used to,” she admitted. “I'm beginning to think the two of you bring out the worst in me.”

“Or maybe the best?” He suggested.

“Hmm.”

“Can I ask you something, Missy?” The Lieutenant asked.

“Hmm?”

“Can you really fight or do I need to force you to take lessons with the others tomorrow?” He asked. “I need to know everyone will be able to defend themselves the next time we get trouble.”

“I can handle myself,” Mena said. “I don't like the idea of fighting, but if it comes to it, I can handle myself just fine.”

“I don't mean to pry,” he went on. “But I'm going to need some credentials to back that claim up. I just...I don't want you to be the conscientious objector here and now.”

Mena was quiet for a minute, before gathering herself with a soft inhale. “When I was thirteen I ran away from home and lived on the streets of Atlanta for five years before the church took me in.”

Regretting asking, but a little more comforted by the information, the Lieutenant nodded. “Alright.”

“You're not going to ask any follow up questions?” Mena inquired with a small smirk.

“It's none of my business.”

“I'm not ashamed of it,” Mena replied. “We all do what we need to in order to survive.”

“I get it.”

“Anyways, I was freelance, if you could call it that. So if a man refused to pay, you'd better have a strong grip and get a good tip,” she went on. “Because there wasn't any pimp to come along and convince them to pay up.”

“Fair enough.” After a moment, he added. “I'm sorry you had to run away from home.”

“There are people out there worse off than me. I was lucky in that I used to go to the convent shelter in Atlanta, not this convent, it was another that would feed the homeless there and give them clothing and whatever they needed. I wasn't addicted to any drugs, I barely drank, though I did more than I should because...well, what else do you do when you're in that situation. But they recommended I join the church as a novitiate, it was Sister Mary Patrick who gave me my first instructions. She came here to this convent when I did and we have always been close.”

The Lieutenant didn't know what to say, so he remained silent. It wasn't his place to say anything.

“So, yes, Lieutenant, I can fight.”

He nodded.

“And no one will judge me, but God,” she added firmly.

“I won't judge you,” he said.

“If that day ever comes for us.” She added grimly.

“Go ahead, if you need,” he said. “I'm secular, so I won't judge.”

Mena opened her mouth as though to say something, but stopped suddenly, inhaling, almost as though she was stubbornly refusing to cry.

Not wanting to touch her without permission, knowing how his mother was with men and how big he was and how scary he could be, the Lieutenant sat beside her awkwardly for a moment, before settling his hand on his knee, palm open, facing the vaulted ceiling above their heads. It was an offering for her if she needed it and she took it after a moment, squeezing with a small, strong hand.

Wrapping his long fingers around her hand, he held it gently, warmly.

“I'm sorry,” she said again.

“You don't have to apologize,” he replied. “I imagine it would shake anyone to the core to have to be in this sort of situation. Civilians aren’t used to facing very real and dangerous threats, they aren’t prepared mentally for all the ugly parts that come with a disaster like this.”

She nodded. “It certainly makes you rethink a lot of things.”

“I'm not religious by any means, not really, but...well, how is your...you know? Your faith?” He winced as though faith was a dirty word.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I suppose I’m waiting for a sign.”

“A sign?” He asked.

“From God. What do we do now? I just don’t know.”

“Ooh,” he teased. “maybe his sign is the dead rising?”

Inhaling once more, Mena calmed herself, her hand still in his. “I am grateful for you, Lieutenant.” She said. “If you weren't here, if Mr. Malone wasn't here, I think it could have been worse for us last night. I have a hard time showing gratitude, and it's my weakness, I will work on it.”

“You don't have to be grateful,” the Lieutenant said. “You just trust me a little, yeah? I want this convent to flourish and be safe.”

“I think a lot of things need to change, don't they?” She asked.

He nodded.

“Maybe we'll turn completely secular,” she teased.

“You're joking, but...it'd make my job easier.”

“Your job?”

“Getting some nuns to kill some bad men.”

Mena laughed. “I don't know about that. But maybe we can make some room in the cloister for you and the others.”

“I don't know,” he teased, “that close to nuns, might make a man wish for the cold embrace of the Georgian backwoods.”

She clucked her tongue at him with a small grin.

In the dim church they sat for a good long while in silence, before the Lieutenant glanced at the woman beside him.

“You ever hear of 'telling the bees'?”

“Not that I'm aware of, what is it?”

“Used to be when someone in a house died, you'd go outside and down to the beehive and you'd tell the bees that they died. It was a sign of respect to the hardest workers on the farm.”

“What happened if you didn't tell the bees?”

The Lieutenant shrugged. “I dunno. They'd fly off, I guess? Or die? Or stop giving honey?”

“That sounds absolutely Pagan,” Mena replied finally.

He grinned. “Now I'm not proposing we dance around naked at the equinox or anything.”

“No reason to ruin a good time on my account,” Mena teased.

Chuckling, the Lieutenant squirmed again in the pew.

“Are you uncomfortable, Lieutenant?”

“No,” he lied.

She smiled. “They're not the friendliest seats, are they?”

“Ah, it's...churches make me a little nervous and I have to say this Catholic church is a little intimidating.”

“Is it the icons or the crucifix?”

“Well, Jesus dying on that cross doesn't give this place a...warm welcoming feel.”

“It's a stark reminder, but...I never cared much for him on the cross like that. I always thought we should remember Jesus as the man who fed the poor, healed the lepers, tolerated the downtrodden with grace and kindness. But then again, I'm just one nun with progressive ideas.”

“Is that why you're here? I recall you saying that this is where the diocese sent the troublemakers.”

Mena smiled. “I never thought of it like that, but perhaps. I know in my younger years I was very vocal about moving beyond the old ways of doing things in the church and mostly in the convent. I thought nuns were far, far removed from everything. I wanted us to get out into the world and be there for people who needed us. Homeless shelters, soup kitchens, they're wonderful, but we could be doing more. Building homes for the impoverished, protesting for civil liberties. Supporting a woman's body and woman's right to choose, it would prevent so much heartache and hardship, but...I'm not supposed to believe in things like abortion or birth control. The Catholic church doesn't believe in any of that, but...I mean a few years ago we didn't support homosexuality, but things were beginning to change and I thought we could push change. But...too many old men set in their ways in charge of too much, with too little desire to listen or even care.”

“I didn't know I was among Catholic rebels here,” the Lieutenant teased.

Mena smiled. “I suppose I was too worldly and I've seen too much to feel the way the church wanted me to. It was easier to shove me away, cloister me, cloister most of these nuns, here at a convent with little to no contact with the outside world, only going out to the farmer's market to sell goods to keep our lights on.”

“Mais,” the Lieutenant exhaled. “The world's gone to seed now, good time as any to forge a new one the way you want.”

“Do you want to know the most controversial idea I had before they sent me here?”

“What was it?”

“I thought priests and nuns should be allowed to marry.”

The Lieutenant faked a gasp. “Blasphemy!”

“As it was, I think – though they would never say it – I think priests and nuns believed that in order to be closer to God they had to rise above the people, but...isn't it logical to think that being closer to God is being among His creation? Experiencing it? All of it? Love and heartache and loss and birth?”

“I wouldn't know, I sort of gave up on God a while back. I think people should do what makes them happy as long as it doesn't hurt anyone else.”

“You're not what I'd imagine a military man would be. Especially a Lieutenant.”

He shrugged. “If you know what a military man looks like, I'd like to know. Wouldn't want to let people down at first sight.”

She laughed softly. “I guess...I was thinking the short, boxy haircut and maybe a ramrod straight spine.”

Reminded subtly to straighten his spine, the Lieutenant sat up in the pew and grinned. “Well, it's a start,” he replied at her look. “I suppose we're both bucking societal expectations of our roles. The progressive nun and the slouchy marine.”

“Hmm, I think I might say a quick prayer for Mr. Malone, then head to bed.”

“I thought he didn’t want you to,” the Lieutenant asked with a grin.

“I know,” she said firmly, the devil dancing in her eyes.

He nodded, releasing her hand. “I'll let you do that in peace then. I'm gonna hop on the wall before bed.”

“Do you think,” she stopped him at the aisle with her soft voice. “Do you think Mr. Malone will be okay out there alone?”

“The man survived this long in a fancy suit with a handgun and a small child, I think he knows what he's doing.”

She nodded. “That's good. I quite like him.”

The Lieutenant smirked. “Me too.”

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

“Goodnight, Missy.”