#so i decided to talk about his hands and tying knots and save the regular camping stufff for the actual post i make at a later date

[littleplantfreak]

Please imagine Umemiya Hajime who's good at camping. He's well prepared and can start a fire in seconds if necessary. (Not to mention him chopping wood?) But also imagine the knots he can tie when putting the tent up. His fingers deftly looping and pulling around the stakes before he tightens them. He'll teach you what different ones are good for, but every time he has you try to do it, you come up blank, unable to tie the simplest thing. It takes the third time of him showing you before he realizes the dreamy look in your eyes isn't one of concentration to learn. But really, who could blame you when he explains it so patiently in that sweet low rumble that he uses when he's alone with you in close proximity. When occasionally he'll grab your hands in his to physically show you how the knots tie, and you can feel the callouses on his palms grazing your skin.

[lundenloves]

⇀ ¹ “𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐇𝐒.”

〔 you’re slotted right into the service of doctor john price, an elite head of division and self titled marmite character — you either love him or hate him. you personally can’t quite decide, but he knows for certain that you’re not for him. what will you do after being forced to learn under his wing? 〕

˗ˏˋ and so we start a new series. doctor!price is slowly going to plague the price x reader tag, and i will not be blamed for the thirsty author notes. i’ll create a series masterlist at some point but this is just to see if anyone actually reads it and/or even likes it. but then again, who doesn’t like a sarcastic man?

⇀ 3.1k | mentions of medical procedures + blood | f!reader nicknamed ‘rev’ (later on)

masterlist | taglist | request info

Another day, another fucking alarm. Another day, another flurry of issues, problems and carnage upon barely setting one foot in the door. It was disgusting really, the way each and every nurse greeted him with an enthusiastic welcome. He wasn’t sure if it was because the shift change was now upon them or if he himself, the ray of unprecedented sunshine, was there. He met their words with a sarcastic smile and nod, shoving a thumbs up toward them before teeming through the busy corridor to reach the scrub room. 

“Price, do you mind—“ 

“No.” He leant against the push door, his back pressed to it with a shrug and a feigned smile of empathy. “Don’t talk to me before six.” The words came blandly, face dropping after rubbing at his nose and taking the step backward to enter the room, the door involuntarily slamming.  

Seventeen hour shift today, fucking dreadful. Six in the morning till nine at night. Was this good for his health, both mental and physical? No. Was this morally right? Fuck no. Was this even legal? Absolutely not. Though you were expected to check the boxes, turn up and chuck the scrubs on — by which, half of them had run out — welcome to the NHS. 

The depressing scrub room was the feat of many tears, all bad of course. Accompanied by the motivational posters from the early noughties, strewn across the walls about how you’re ‘saving a life’ every day, and Price couldn’t ever help but to laugh at them every shift start. Though, by the end he would be fucking talking to the walls, the small people on the posters now his delirious friends.

“Christ.” He mumbled, tying the knot of the trousers before raking around for a passably clean scrub shirt that wasn’t covered in bodily fluids. Not even the fun kind. 

The door swung open with its predicted slam, presenting a bunch of fresh faced med students who had stopped to stare at Price. “What.” He frowned, highly aware that he was standing without a shirt, white coat ditched and raking through an old scrub locker for the dispenser had run out. This was fucking poor. 

They all snapped their looks away, reduced to quiet chatter before ditching their bags and rolling their sleeves in preparation for the first day of the rest of their lives. Price would have warned them had it not been quarter to six in the morning, and had he not been half as miserable as he always seemed. 

Though all hope wasn’t lost, the clouds parted and a beautifully clean scrub shirt was found and chucked on to solidify that he, in fact, did hate his job. He was head of division, so scrubs weren’t a necessity though he didn’t fancy getting said bodily fluids over his regular clothes. “Ready for today, captain?” His assistant doctor, Mike, loomed by the door, bringing all of the noise from outside in with him. Four years ago he had coined the nickname ‘Captain’ for Price and it stuck. For those brave enough to talk to him anyway. 

“I’d rather kill myself.” Came his short reply, shoulders dropped upon eyeing Mike in the mirror. 

“Well, that’s just grand.” He held out a clipboard, hands clutched to the top and downsides of the wood. “Did you see the schedule?” 

“Why would I see the schedule?” Price’s eyes met his in the reflection before turning around to lazily snatch the board from his hands. “What am I looking at?” His eyes roamed the overly complicated excel sheet, shifting his weight to one foot before flicking through the various pages that had been clipped down. “Eh?”

“New SHO resident.” 

“And what?” He lulled, handing him the board back and stretching his back out as if preparing for the fucking olympics or alternatively, a shattering seventeen hour shift. I’ll let you decide that one. 

“She’s on your service.” 

The look of betrayal struck his face, an exasperated sigh leaving his every fucking fibre. “No she’s fucking not.” Price made it his business to let everyone know he did not like new faces on his service, regardless male or female, fucking worldclass or freshly chucked into the deep end, he did not like it. Therefore wouldn't have it. 

That was the strange beauty of being not only a white coat, but also head of division — you were almost encouraged to be a bit bratty every now and then. It was like your reward for going through the last eight years of training, because the money surely wasn’t fucking worth it. 

“Chuck her elsewhere.”

“You’re the only senior today.” 

Price shrugged his coat back on, momentarily screwing his face while rubbing at his brows. “When is she in?” His eyes remained tightly shut. 

“Seven.” 

“Till?”

“Five.” 

His hand dropped at that, pulling a slight face as if he hadn’t heard his co-worker correctly. “Ten hours?” Tilting his head to lean an ear closer to Mike, gesturing he repeated himself. 

“She’s transferring.” He instead said, hitting the clipboard rhythmically against the side of his thigh. “From Central London.” Brows wiggled, as if the mere mention of London was valued. Which for the record it wasn’t. 

Price left his assistant hanging, passing by him and holding the door open. “Monday fucking morning.” His face somehow dropped even further to accommodate for a low whistle, brows furrowed after stepping out into the upsettingly bright lights. “Floor five.” Came a mumble, lifting his arm to check the time. Six on the dot. 

“Mornin’ Price, looking like death today — spend all your weekend juggling the nurses again?” A fellow white coat teased, John spinning on his heel to walk backwards, his arms wide in feigned offense. 

“Morning would have sufficed.” He earned an echoed chuckle from the Doctor who had already turned a corner. “What’s on the books today then?” His voice returned to its flat state, and Mike passed him yet another excel sheet. 

“You’re split today. Labour ward and one theater.” He leaned over to run his finger across the paper before Price, eventually landing on an estimated time. “Two till four.” He pointed. “Joint replacement. I’ll be with you for that one, then you’ll be joined by the new SHO for a walk around.”

“Thrilling.” He replied shortly.

Mike nodded, splitting off after they had reached the nurses station to do whatever the fuck it was Mike did when not following Price like a lost dog. John leaned on the reception counter, resting his head against his arms. “Rough night, Price?”

“Every night is a rough night.” 

“Heard that one before.” Someone else chimed in from behind, coffee in hand. “Still on the coffee ban, John?” She teased, sliding the shitty paper cup toward him and Price could’ve sworn this was some type of flirting had it not been six in the morning. Which was fine, flirting was fair game, except he was usually the one doing it. 

In a dramatic statement, he’d vouched to not touch coffee again after losing a scalpel inside a patient. It was most definitely his fault and not the blend like he had whispered to the nurses after the patient had been taken for re-op by junior surgeons. “He’s still going on about that?” 

“I didn’t bring it up.” He scoffed, knocking his knuckles on the counter before leaning back and using the clipboard in his hand as a pointing stick of accusation. “Listen, it’s been rough—“

“We all know. It was the blend.” His deep voice had been mimicked, each nurse laughing and swivelling their chairs to face the man of the fucking hour. 

“I’m telling you.” He pointed once more, rounding the counter to sift through various exposed stacks of paperwork. “What’s this?” 

“I’m filing it.”

“When? Tomorrow? Pick up the speed.” He kissed his teeth, swiping a paper cup of tea from the hourly cart. “Please.” He smiled, smearing his charm all over them and gesturing his definition of speed by rolling his hands in a continuous motion. 

“Away you go.” 

“Thank you, gorgeous.” He had a cheek really, pushing back from the station and scrunching a second paper cup to toss it in the bin with force. The reason for his cheek being, his own office. The absolute obliteration of a room that any mother would shake her head at, any sane person would form tears at, and any other doctor would take lethal punishment over. 

It wasn’t just the papers. It was the oddity of the whole room, chaotic would be your best description. Littered with miscellaneous clutter, clothes, shoes, half finished food, unrelated books and photos — some familial, some from children on wards and others completely unserious like the framed image of Yoshi on his desk. No one ever bothered to ask. 

He sat down with Mike’s clipboard in hand, eyes shifting between the monitor on his desk and the fucking excel rota. Your name was underneath his, scheduled for a mere ten hours, the shift looking like an alternative to heaven had Price not signed the contract that enabled over forty hour working weeks. The frown across his brow was a sight to see, clicking around on screen before reaching the digital rota purely to find your transfer notes. Ones embedded in his higher-ups chat. 

He pulled his lip up, eyes skimming through your mere experience — fresh from med-school and training in obs and gynae, though excelled in early neurology modules. 

Your reason for transfer wasn’t listed and Price lifted a brow, clicking his tongue against his teeth with a grimace expression. His fingers tapped the desk in a momentous motion, each one in succession of the other after pushing his sleeve up to check the time. Six thirty. 

“Price.” Came a rapid knock on his door.

“What.” He replied, patting around his pockets for the vibrating pager that he had clicked off after standing up and opening the door. 

“They need you on—“

“I’m going.” The midwife nodded at his cut off, speed walking alongside him to room fifteen where a flurry of doctors had gathered. “Right, clear it, clear it.” He cleared his throat, pulling gloves on and pushing the door open to see another frantic scene. 

“What do we have?”

“In determination, sir.”

Price edged his way through a few nurses and introduced himself calmly, ducking to have a look at the issue after rolling his sleeves up. The head was forcing the umbilical cord down and out of mother, resulting in possible fatality if not delivered immediately. “Cord prolapse, page the anesthetics. We’ll need a maneuver.” The midwife nodded at him. “Knee to elbow, prepare for cesarean.” 

Even urgent deliveries felt almost auto-pilot for him, like zoning out and entering a catatonic state when washing his hands thrice over and thumbing two separate rounds of gloves on. “Ready?” The scrub nurse accounted for each utensil as usual before nodding to Price who returned one.

Not everyone’s six am, but all in a morning's work for the man who would rather be anywhere else. He left the theater fifty minutes later. Standing for two minutes with his bloodied gloves up, waiting for a junior doctor to assess the stitching he had made. Now, two minutes isn’t a long time but it fucking well feels like it when your hands are up. “Never seen stitches before?”

“Why didn’t you staple?” She asked timidly. 

He blinked lamely. “Because we had time.” 

The poor girl nodded, apologising for the time and allowing the team to wrap up — Price leaving the room with a sigh. His watch read seven twenty, something he tsked at as bullshit before passing the nurses station. Though, not without attention. “John.” 

“Hmm?” He looked up, brows furrowed like always. His scrubs covered in blood spats. “What.” 

Non. Fucking. Stop.

“Your SHO is here.” His eyes then trailed to you, stood with fear plastered across your face and arms tight to your chest. “Tough delivery?” She batted her eyelashes at him, making you feel like an involuntary voyeur.

“Tough paperwork?” He replied sharply, leaning back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Where’s Mike?” Eyes giving your entire frame a once over as if determining your worth right there and then. 

“Behind you.” She scoffed.

“Great.” Price turned, gesturing two hands Mike’s way for you to wander to. Much like a baby taking their first unsure steps. Though, Mike had already taken off by that point and John sighed, hands placed on his hips before looking back at you. 

“S’fine, I can just—“

Though your sentence was cut by nerves. 

Nerves and not the six foot something man before you who stood like a disappointed parent. Not that you knew where you were going with those four words anyway. “You’re the SHO, correct?” There was a crease in his brow, one that cropped up upon your bland nod. “Follow me.” He sounded and seemed physically pained by your presence, walking away down a long stretch of corridor that you swallowed at. 

Your previous hospital, while being in the center of London, was small. Surprisingly so with the amount of foot traffic that would tumble through the rotating doors every day. You’d supposed to have lucked out with that, finding your feet in one of the only central hospitals to grant you a minute in the day to fucking practice what was taught. 

Everywhere else seemed a free-for-all. 

Price pushed open a door and leant against it till you had caught up. “Sorry.” Though he shrugged, pulling his foot back and letting it slam against the wood after you had entered. 

“Scrub room.” He gestured, rubbing a finger on his upper lip for a second before turning to you. “Brats and Twats, aren’t you?” 

“Excuse me?”

“Obs and Gynae.” His face couldn’t convey nonchalance anymore than it did. If anything, you could trade the word for uncaring but that wasn’t as strong. His arm dropped back down to his side, cutting the silence you had created at the thought. 

For god given embarrassment, words refused you and Price nodded. “I read it.” A beat, cocking his head at your daze. “On your transfer form.” 

You were out of your element. Which was to be expected, sheepishly following him around after changing into scrubs. Price seemed important, that was easily gathered by his white coat and the nods he received in the hallway, his calm yet demanding tone, the seriousness in his brow and the way he offered little to no emotion in place of sarcasm. It all pointed to vanity if nothing else. 

He was doing a walk around of labour ward when you had paused to peer into a room. The sound of screaming was usual, though the open door and team of doctors around one bed was something that caught your attention. Price shifted from behind you, “How many have you delivered?”

You turned to face him, faltering at his stare. Words barely stuttering from your lip, something perhaps a child would get away with. “None.” It felt embarrassing to say amidst the chaos. “I- I never had the chance.” Seemingly grasping at straws to defend yourself under Price’s weighted eyes. 

“You’ll get a chance.” He said firmly, pulling his lip upward after leaning to view the patient room. “See one, fuck one up, teach one.” Your brows collapsed at his statement after he had begun to walk away again. 

“You’re not going to help?” 

He shook his head. “They’re fine.” 

John had discarded you to the nurses after that. Retreating back to his office to put together not only a schedule but also a mental plan, accepting the fact that you were now his responsibility. Subsequently, you would also now be one of the best doctors in his service. It wasn’t a choice. 

You were now a passion project for him. Of sorts. 

He’d been busy most of the morning. Darting between sectors and floors without a break of any sort, though you’d come to learn from the nurses that Price doesn’t take breaks. Some hadn’t seen him eat in the five years they had been here. 

Fuck that you said, taking someone’s orange and leaning on the nurses desk. Food was not escaping you. “He’s always been like that.” The head midwife, Joanna, would nod upon chatting about Price. Her eyes followed him and his glare. “Morning, John.”

“Mhm..” 

“Can I ask you something?” She ticked off a few scribbled ward rounds on her clipboard, shoving it to the counter beside her. 

Price stood with his arms crossed to check the measly whiteboard of the ward, one that held all patient information in a shit spreadsheet way. You’d never seen someone look so miserable, the wrinkles around his eyes were rare for the occasional smile, but a permanent crease existed between his brows. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

“Personal.”

“Even worse.”

You watched from the side, rolling your orange across the counter. The only chance you’d get to eat in the next nine hours. “Must be hard, eh?” She placed a hand on her hip. “Being such an arsehole.” 

Price gave her a stiff laugh, his eyes catching yours over her shoulder. “Remember to remove the hard, shiny layer on the outside.” He nodded toward your fruit, arms expressionlessly dropped to his sides. “Need any help doing that?” Should’ve stuck to a fucking apple, maybe it’d have kept him away too.

“Point and case.” Joanna looked at him, flicking through a few pages of her discarded clipboard. “Can you check on room sixteen? I'm concerned she’s making slow progress.” 

He sighed, taking all of four steps before he had paused to stare back at you. “Let’s go, kid.” 

You ditched the orange, finding a mental note to mark that you had left it by the printer. John cleared his throat, lifting an arm to check the watch for what seemed like the hundredth time today. “Why’d you keep checking the time?”

“Time is important.” He began, “Tell me the time without looking at your watch.” 

You shrugged and he tapped the side of his nose, pushing the door open with a grand sigh once you had reached the room. “See one, fuck one up, teach one.”

“Now?” At your pointed emphasis of the adverb, Price tilts his head, watching the redness fill your cheeks. He struggled to understand how you hadn’t been given a chance to deliver yet. 

It was barely two hours into your first shift and he was already throwing you in deep. You sensed a potential pattern, “I told you you’d get a chance.” 

Fuck. 

comfortably numb by pink floyd. this’ll be a series of five or so parts, unsure yet, might take it to ao3 instead.

i’m still figuring out how i want to write this world and the characters so give it a chance, the second part’ll probably be better. + one or two nicked jokes from medical tv shows🤺

it’s unedited btw i gotta work but i’ll edit later or smth

as always always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated for boosts. if no one pats me on the head every now and then i’ll sit in a hole.

any and all cod characters taglist: @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @luvfromkat @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @mistydeyes @dilfdotgov @sofasoap @bubbyblob

[snelbz]

I'll Be Seeing You {2}

Nesta x Cassian, 1940′s AU

Collaboration with @tacmc​

Summary: After Cassian gets injured in the war, he’s taken to a war camp to be cared for until he gains enough strength to return to his battalion. While he’s there, he falls for a nurse that couldn’t care less about his title and doesn’t put up with his bullshit. Once he’s healed and the years pass by, he finds that there’s only one thing he wants to remember from the war, and she’s only a letter away.

Trigger Warnings: war

A/N: Enjoy a surprise chapter a couple days early, we’re just too excited for y’all to read this story.

Chapters will be posted every Monday.

Word Count: 2336

IBSY Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist 

Nesta was making her rounds as the sun set outside of their desolate war camp.

It had been a long day, one filled with losses. After the ambush two days prior, their tent had become full. Now, there were far too many empty beds.

It never became easier.

With every soul that she attempted to heal that passed from this world to the next, she felt like a failure, even though it was impossible to save every soldier that had been injured in the heart of battle.

There were victories, though.

Those who were left in the tent were improving.

The ambush had brought in nearly fifty injured soldiers, and just over twenty of them remained.

Including Corporal Cassian Nazari, who she was walking up to now, a glass of water in hand.

He blinked a few times against the light of the guttering candle on the table, but after a moment his eyes settled on her. Settled, but still glazed with pain.

“Nurse Nesta,” he said, voice rasping from sleep, attempting to resituate himself in the uncomfortable bed, with one good arm. “Is it time for my sponge bath already?”

She sighed through her nose and closed her eyes, resisting the urge to rub her temples.

Most men in the infirmary were polite, respectful, grateful to be taken care of, especially knowing what befell their fellow soldiers who hadn’t been quite as lucky as they were. The first day she’d attended to the corporal, she’d assumed his inappropriate comment about foreplay had been some sort of unintended joke, something he hadn’t been able to control as he awoke.

But as Cassian slowly healed, Nesta learned those little comments were quite regular for him. And when he learned that they made her blush, or even snap at him occasionally, it only made him say them more frequently.

“I’ll give you a bucket and a sponge and you may help yourself,” she quipped. “Does that interest you?”

He laughed, quietly, but winced as it seemed the simple shaking of his shoulders brought a bout of pain. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“Why do you think that?” she asked.

“You joke with me,” Cassian said, shrugging a shoulder. “You joke when you’re in a good mood.”

“I don’t joke,” she replied. “I only give back what is given to me, even though I do it in a far more appropriate way.”

“There are worse things than being inappropriate,” Cassian promised her.

Nesta simply shook her head. “Here.”

He took the pill from her palm and took it, swallowing it with the glass of water she gave him. For a moment, his eyes closed and he sighed, deeply.

“How are you feeling today?” She asked, sitting down in the chair next to the table. He opened his eyes and she reached out to feel his head. He had been feverish the night before, and she was worried about infection setting in.

He was just as clammy as he’d been, if not more so. There was a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, but before she said anything, she wanted to hear it from him. Even if she was fairly sure it would be a lie laced with male bravado.

“Fine,” he replied, though he attempted to sit up with one arm again and winced. “Like I could get back on the battlefields right now.”

Rolling her eyes, she stood. “Too bad that won’t be happening yet.”

She strode for the medicine cabinet in the center of the tent, aiming for an antibiotic strong enough to stave off the infection. His own inability to keep still had led she and Madja to band his fractured arm to his side, but this kept the bullet wounds on his back from airing out. It was about choosing the lesser of two evils with this man it seemed.

Last night, they’d elected to set his arm. Tonight, it seemed he’d go back in the sling and she’d see what needed tending to on his back.

“Are you allergic to penicillin, Corporal?” Nesta asked, coming back to his cot.

“Not that I’m aware of, but I have a feeling that we’re about to find out for certain,” he noted, chuckling, then breaking into a cough fit.

“Alright,” she sighed, and pulled him fully into sitting position. “It seems you still have a fever. I’m going to give you this penicillin. Then, I’m going to take off your bandages and clean your wounds.”

“And then?” he asked.

Nesta blinked, hesitating as she a needle with the drug. “Pardon?”

“After you clean my wounds, what will you do?” Cassian asked, that sly smile remaining. “Because I have a few ideas-.”

“Corporal,” Nesta interrupted. “I am here to heal you, and nothing more.”

Cassian lifted a brow. “First of all, it’s Major, actually. It’s been years since I was a corporal. Secondly, I thought we could play a card game. What was it you were thinking?” Nesta’s cheeks heated and she ignored his pointed question. “My apologies, but Private Hale said—.”

“He knows nothing, which is why he’s only a private.”

She cleared her throat and held out her hand, letting him take the two pills in her palm. He did so, without any commentary, which Nesta took as a blessed relief.

She retrieved the sling his arm had previously been in, as well as fresh bandages, an ewer of fresh water and a bottle of antiseptic.

And a bit to put between his teeth in case the pin became too unbearable.

With a few tugs on the knots tying them together, Nesta unwrapped his arm from his body, not taking a full look at his back yet.

Almost immediately, Cassian tried to stretch out his arm, which earned him a chastising look from Nesta. “It’s tight,” he defended.

“If you move it too much before it’s had time to set and heal, tight will be the least of your worries, Major,” she replied, carefully tying the two ends of the fabric sling around his neck. “Not to mention your shoulder is still too weak as well. Do you want to dislocate it again?”

He grumbled something that sounded similar to No, ma’am, and sat still while Nesta settled his arm into place.

Once she tended to his arm, she prepared herself to examine his back again.

“This isn’t going to feel good,” she warned, taking in the angry, red skin puckering the edges of the wounds. They’d been able to retrieve the bullets while he was unconscious, but they weren’t in the most ideal and clean conditions for a healing to take place. Gently pressing her fingers around the mildest looking one earned a hiss and sudden jerk from Cassian. As well as puss, far more puss than Nesta was expecting. “I’m going to have to clean these out.”

“Can’t you give me more of that stuff that put me under and do what you need to do?”

His words weren’t unkind, but the tone… Nesta knew he was in pain.

She could, of course, but the powdered pain killer was much stronger than what she’d already administered. Not to mention is much, much shorter supply. It was reserved for surgeries, mostly, or life-threatening injuries.

An injury like the major had been brought in with at the time.

Not for a standard, but nasty, infection, unfortunately.

War was unfair, Nesta decided then. She’d known it for quite a while, watching good men die for their lands, but it was evident in that moment as she looked at the man’s ravaged back before her.

“Unfortunately, no,” she said, at last. “But I promise to work quickly.”

He gave her a curt nod and braced himself.

The alcohol burned, she knew that, she knew that it had to feel like fire was being lit to the surface of the skin, but as she poured the alcohol over the wound and began to clean it, the only sense of pain that Cassian showed was his rigid posture.

“Bear with me,” Nesta muttered, beginning to rebandage the wound.

“Got any whiskey?” he asked.

Despite herself, Nesta snorted. “No, I don’t. Is that your drink of choice, major?”

She was trying to distract him, trying to make the time go by just a little bit quicker as she worked.

“Usually,” he said, and huffed. “Every now and then I like to order a simple lager.”

“Lager,” she repeated. “What a luxury.”

“It has been a while,” he agreed.

She worked in silence for a few minutes, having to go so far as to scrape out the bits of skin that were too far gone and only likely to slow down the healing process. But when his breathing became ragged as she started on the worst of the wounds, the one right near his spine, she asked, “What’s the first meal you’re going to have when you get home? What have you been dreaming of since you enlisted?”

Mindless chatter, she reminded herself, was just as effective as a painkiller.

He was quiet for a moment, only hissing as she pressed the alcohol-soaked rag to his back. She had accepted he wasn’t going to answer when he softly asked, “Don’t you mean if?”

She was suddenly very thankful that she was working on his back and was unable to see his face. Playing dumb, she kept him talking. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Don’t you mean if I get home?” He asked. His voice was hollow, lacking the warmth it usually did when he spoke. It was unlike what she’d started to grow accustomed to. “This is a war we’re in the middle of, ma’am.”

She cleared her throat, continuing to work. “I think you ought to change your manner of speech, major, or you’ll be more likely to conscribe yourself to believe the worst.” Pressing a clean bandage to his skin to staunch the bleeding, she asked, “Now about that meal, sir?”

Surprising her, he laughed, quietly. “I guess I haven’t thought about it too much. My mother used to make a mean pork roast. With carrots and potatoes. That would hit the spot right about now.”

Nesta couldn’t help but lick her lips at the thought of a nice, hot, homemade dinner. “How about dinner rolls?”

Cassian hummed. “My mom used to make the fluffiest dinner rolls. She used to make me roll the dough. I hated it, until it was time to eat them.”

She smiled to herself. “My sister Elain loves to bake. She makes this pear crumble…” Shaking her head, she sighed. “It’s the best. Especially when she whips cream to put on top.”

“I don’t remember the last time I had a warm dessert,” he admitted, wincing as she applied antibacterial cream to the wounds. Turning to glance at her, he amended, “Actually, I don’t remember the last time I had a hot meal.”

The words hurt Nesta’s heart. The food they had in the med camps weren’t great, but she was sure they were better than rations the soldiers were issued.

“Tell me more about your sister,” he breathed, clearly needing the distraction while she worked.

Nesta sighed. “Which one?”

“How many do you have?” he asked.

“Two,” Nesta said. “Couldn’t be more opposite of one another. Feyre, the youngest, would rather spend her time painting, or outdoors in the woods behind our house, while Elain prefers to spend her time baking, or in her garden.”

Cassian nodded, thoughtfully. “And you?”

“What of me?” she asked, beginning to rebandage his wounds.

“What do you prefer to do with your time?” he pushed.

Nesta’s hands slowed. She wished she had more time to fill as of late. “I enjoy reading, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” he asked, then chuckled.

“What’s so funny about that?” Nesta asked, eyes narrowed at the back of his head.

“You either do or you don’t,” he said, shrugging, and wincing from the simple motion. “But, you suppose.”

Nesta scoffed. “Fine. I enjoy reading.”

“What manner of books?”

She hesitated for a moment. “Romance.”

He snorted. “Of course. Let me guess, a knight in shining armor, coming to rescue a damsel in distress?”

Nesta’s cheeks heated as his guess was nearly spot on of the plot of one of the tattered, well-loved books she kept in the small bag she brought with her from home. “And what’s so wrong with a knight saving a lady who needs help?”

“Nothing,” he replied, trying to shift his hurt arm. She adjusted the sling to hold him tighter. “I just think it’s a silly ideal to hold. Not everyone is going to have someone come save them.”

She was suddenly very aware of the fact that they were in a med camp in the middle of war.

“I guess you’re right,” she mused. “But I don’t see why that should stop anyone from dreaming.”

Cassian huffed and said nothing more.

When Nesta was finished, she asked, “How does that feel?”

“As good as it can,” he answered, in grumpy sincerity. “Although, I still wouldn’t mind that sponge bath.”

“Has anyone ever told you how ridiculously impossible you are?” she asked, the words flying out of her mouth before she could think better of it.

Cassian’s smile only grew. “If only you knew.”

Nesta’s chin rose as she tried to make sense of his remark, but she asked, “Can I get you anything else for the time being?” Cassian opened his mouth, but Nesta interrupted with, “Nothing that has to do with sponges.”

He laughed, quietly. “A cure for boredom?”

Just as Nesta was getting ready to reply, a cry came from just outside the tent, and her body was tensing, preparing itself. Madja’s eyes connected with hers, and Nesta’s feet were immediately in motion.

Another body coming in, caught in warfare.

It seemed he would have to entertain himself, as Nesta was once again vividly reminded that no one may ever come to save her.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t save someone else.

[iam-kenough]

Will you ever notice me? (Arthur Morgan x Original Female Characters)

Summary:  Dutch and his boys found a girl hidden inside wrecked shack near their camp. She introduces herself as Iris and starts leading outlaw life with Van der Linde gang, quickly developing feelings towards one, special cowboy. However there is big year gap between them and Arthur sees Iris just as a kid...And girl won’t take that!

Authors notes: TO THOSE WHO READ THIS - THANK YOU! I can see some of you leave hearts under my post on regular basis and even if it’s only one or two people, I will write for you. I have a question for you - would you see a crossover in this story? I have an idea for The Witcher crossover happening in 10 to 15 chapters. Any feelings about that? It’s just another chapter and you can find the rest of them following masterlist on my blog if you  want to read more of my  fanfiction. Hope you gonna enjoy it! Words count: 2816 Chapter 14 Arthur got up from bed with shitty mood this day, thinking about events from few night's before. How could Iris be so cold to him? Man couldn't get away from these thoughts.  But he also knew that he deserved much more than only few harsh words. He was a bastard so she was dealing with him like with one. Woman was merciful enough to keep him around, at least that's what Arthur told himself. One thing couldn't get off his head. Where was she? Whatever he tried, Arthur couldn't find her recently, but the tent was here and girl's presence was visible, marked with her clothes, thrown on the floor or on the bed. He suddenly heard that someone is breaking glass behind the trees somewhere around the tent he was sleeping in.

- Glad it ain't your job - Iris was leaning against the tree. She looked different today, fresh, happy and she wasn't hangover. Girl was dressed similar to Arthur, black trousers with suspenders, dark green shirt, gun belt, high boots and her hair was collected in messy bun on the top of her little head. She was talking to Sean, who was shooting towards empty beer bottles.

- What about you, you can't do that to, can ya? - boy's accent was strong and thick, Sean visibly mocking Iris.

- Maybe you want to go with me and see me in action so you won't underestimate me anymore - woman threw him challenging gaze.

- What are you both up to, kids? - Arthur approached them, taking position on the opposite side to Iris's.

- Sean decided he's gonna train shooting skills. But there is one thing, bastard's drunk.

- That gives you twice much chances to shot someone! - Arthur spreaded his arms as honest and hearty laugh escaped his lungs.

- Stop scolding me, you are not even older than me, Iris! And by the way, you were the one who went yesterday downtown and killed some folk to pay your bounty, when half the state is hoping to shoot you for two thousand dollars. It was supposed to be a secret between her and Sean and Arthur threw her angry look right away. She wouldn't use his help and she meant it. The crease between his brows remained deep and his ocean eyes were locked on very certain person.

- Well, look at me, paying two thousand dollars fine for my head and killing multiple fellers when all you have to do is shot 5 bottles that ain't moving and you can't do that, can ya?

- I asked you to help me, not to scold me - Sean approached her, lowering his tone to calm and obedient so Arthur wouldn't hear what comes next - Don't make me ask him, he would laugh me off.

- Oh, that's who you are afraid of! Never would thought about that - she said out loud, looking at Arthur and smirking - Ye knew I learned form him, eh?

- You think you are so much better? Okay, give it a go, your best shot, Rhiannon! Iris threw him look of someone who's done with his shit and in the nick of time she pulled out a gun and almost at the same moment bottle cracked. She wasn't as fast as Arthur, but it was still impressive.

- Grow up - she said and turned around on heel.

- Oh come on, I'm paying you for that, don't go away, please? - Sean changed his tactics immidiately.

- You're paying for my compliments, not for real advices, attaboy. And I cannot be bought. Arthur stayed out of it, but it was amusing to watch as Iris is roasting everybody around wherever she can. That's his girl.

- I think you are too harsh on me, that's all - Sean got back to shooting, throwing looks above his arm to be sure Iris is still watching him.

- Oh, poor boy, some little lady is making you cry. You can ask our old Arthur for help, if ya don't like me - she patted Arthur's arm and Sean frowned.

- I won't listen to no Englishman!

- I don't like the way you talk to her, kid - Arthur scoffed, giving boy judgemental eyes - Guess you just lost chances with both of us.

Sean threw him disappointed look and got back to his task. Iris left Sean and Arthur followed her, grabbing her arm suddenly and turning her around.

- I told ya not to go anywhere alone, I offered you the money that could save you, why you keep pushing me and my help away? - he was towering her, looking down with disappointment. Iris's back rested against the tree and she tool deep breath.

- Arthur...darling...I told you I can't use your help, especially when it comes to money. Look at us, the last thing I need is to be financialy dependent. We don't get along at all.

- And why is that, what is wrong with me taking care of you? - man's palm rested near Iris's head when the elbow was straightened, closing one of possible ways for her to leave him hanging right now.

- You're not the one that should do that, Mister! You have woman you care about in your life, Arthur, her name's Mary.

- It's different with you - he murmured, averting his gaze.

-It is, you are right. There is nothing between us and you try to pretend it is.

- Nothin' between us, huh? And all those feelings we share? Since I met you my heart is fluttering as soon as I see you and I feel like a fool - Arthur muttered under his breath, it was crystal clear he hated speaking about his emotions.

- Feelings aren't enough sometimes. I shut this door, Arthur. It's over.

- You're breaking up with me?

- Arthur, we were never properly together in the first place, so calm down - her tone was serious but girl caressed his cheek and smiled - I'm sure I'm not the only girl that can warm you up at nights.

- You are the only one to me - he shaken his head with disbelief and clenched his jaw righ after, looking away like betrayed dog.

- I am not, you think I am naive enough to believe in that? You have past and it's chasing you, I ain't girl for you.

- What are you saying, kid? - Arthur's eyes narrowed.

- You're sleeping with Mary, right? At least that's what all red lights were showing me. All those letters, staying away, not coming home at night. I can't blame you, she's beautiful and more mature...more like you - Iris's voice was full of jealousy. Arthur suddenly grabbed her chin and kissed her. The feeling coming with the kiss was unbearable, sensation fallin on Iris, tying up knot inside her stomach. She suddenly felt butterflies trying to get outside her chest and blood running faster in her veins. But girl quickly realised it's her heart, racing so much it almost hurt. His chapped, plump lips were doing the job with softening her fasade, that's for sure. Iris couldn't help but run fingers through Arthur's golden hair. His breath was warm and stubble on Arthur’s face tickled a bit, causing shivers in lower part of Iris’s spine. That was it, he hunted her down again. She purred, sucking onto his lower lip and smiled dreamily.

- Do you think I could do something like that with anyone else but you? - Arthur asked - How could you assume I cheated on you and wasn't even asking me for my side of the story? I never did, especially not with Mary.

- Wait, does that mean that all those things that happened to us...are my fault? - girl's face suddenly dropped, brows forming into frown.

- I'm not blaming you, even if it is I can't - Arthur's forehead rested against hers - I should say something too, but I just thought I am too old for you, or maybe too stupid or to harsh when it comes to our intimacy and that's why you are slipping from my hads so quickly - Iris noticed that his eyes were glimmering.

- Hey, I am cold bitch but I wouldn't treat you so badly only for those things - she whispered surprised, her breath unsteady.

- I am not much to look at, I assumed you just wanted someone better...but I am the best for you, girl, I can feel we match just like puzzles does - it was the smoothest line Arthur Morgan ever used on anyone.

- You are unbelievable! - she scoffed - And that's why you were gone all days every time there was a letter from Mary?

- I am a fool - Arthur run fingers through his hair in nervous manner - I shouldn't help her, yer right, it looked so bad when now I remind myself...I just had this very wrong feeling sayin' I owe her somethin'. She was asking me about lot of things and I felt like idiot running her errands thinking it's just help that she needs after becoming a widow and I soon as she tried to...convince me I should ignore some young girl running after me and make love to her I escaped from Mary, a-and then I was diagnosed, assured by doctor I'm gonna die, I couldn't let you watch it- - Arthur was rambling on and on, falling apart at the same time. But then Iris grabbed his both arms, looking at him firmly but with genuine and consider smile on her rosy lips.

- I would never leave you, even if you'd die tomorrow. Heart doesn't work like this, I care about you, even if we don't have good time every day, Arthur. I would stay by your side, no matter what- Arthur's eyes became stromy again and he pulled Iris into tight embrace, burrying face in her hair. Man tried to hide it but Iris knew he's iritated with her little sugarcoating. Her small hands were running circles around his arms and back, letting him calm down a little.

- I was afraid...to infect you, Iris. I was already dirty, living like a savage, no need to do the same to ya.

- Shh, I'm not mad anymore - her heart was melting away on sight of Arthur Morgan who's trying to get her back. Maybe she was simple, so what?

- That means you gonna stay? I think you suit there.

- I will stay even if it's gonna be here, in this camp till the end of the world, you know it  - she pecked his nose gently - We just have to sit down someday and talk about communication between us.

- You sound so smart sometimes even though all you do is stupid and reckless - Arthur mocked her.

- Its more about me without you, I need to be protected - she whispered to his ear, observing as this boyish grin appeared on Arthur's lips. Iris planned to do that more often, clearly seeing through him and his low self-esteem. Man needed to be reassured once in a while that he’s important.

Arthur cheered up suddenly, grabing Iris into rough bear hug, messing up her hair a little and grinning like stupid.

- And mister? I told you to quit smoking! - girl barked out trying to be intimidating but it caused only vibrations in Arthur's chest as he couldn't help but laugh.

Iris thought that she was light headed and drunk with love, but Arthur was just whole new level. All man was doing all days was following Iris around the camp as much as he could, looking ridiculous. If she was washing his shirts, he was scolding her for overworking herself, every time Iris chopped vegetables he was chiming in, helping her and kicking Mr Pearson out and hugs from the back happened often, usually stuttering her since Arthur could take really silent steps if he wanted to. Iris didn't mind though, she was adoring idea of hot, dangerous gunslinger falling on their knees for her even if for a second. Every moment she was reminding herself first time she met Arthur's stormy gaze, her knees were a little bit shaky.

Days passed and girl still couldn't figure out how to ask Arthur if they can share a tent. It should be obvious but on first night after their reconcile he mumbled  ''goodnight'' and disappeared behind tent's flaps. Iris couldn't tell if she should follow, so stayed away and now it was another stupid problem she made up to have thing to worry about. In her head it looked like small gesture showing he's not ready for her to come and turn his life upside down again. She sighed and started getting herself ready to go to bed, undressing and stretching her muscles, listening with satisfaction as her whole skeleton cracked. She still was hurt after train robbery, that one was tough and running away from bounty hunters one day was even tougher. Air was warm tonight, a bit stuffy also dark clouds presaged storm. Iris decided she's gonna sleep naked and clothes she owned were throwed inside big, wooden trunk.

- Hey, Iris, can you come over for sec- - Arthur froze in place seeing her naked with eyes wide and mouth open in "o" shape.

- Go away! - she squeked, throwing pillow in his face.

- Jesus, I'm sorry! - Arthur looked away quickly, but his cheeky smile showed otherwise.

- You should knock, Mister! - girl said, covering herself quickly, not noticing small peeks Arthur was throwing at her ass and hips when she was turned around.

- Sorry, I wasn't expectin' you like that...- he said with goofy smile.

- Like what? It's too warm tonight to sleep wearing anything and suddenly I think I'm gonna melt away - Iris waved her hands with motion towards complexion, causing a little bit of cold air caress her glimmering face.

- Yeah, you- I mean, it's hot, y'er right - Arthur's hands became fidgety, he was picking on his nails nervously, blushing like a boy.

- And you should knock 'cause there are plenty things I can do naked - Iris mocked him, causing motion of his hands to speed up.

- Girls do that too?! Are you thinking of me when you-

- You pig! - she thew another pillow at him.

- I'm sorry, I wasn't expectin' you- I wasn't expecting that - his eyes eagerly run from up to down - Iwantedtoinviteyoutocomeoverplease.

- Huh? Are you drunk, Arthur?

- A bit, yes - it clearly wasn't a bit, Iris could tell, chatty tongue, jazzy hands, next thing is gonna be yelling how much he wants to cuddle her - I wanted to show you my new bed, it's bigger.

- Well, good for you, you always whined your back hurts - Iris shrugged.

- It's bigger so you could sleep with me - suddenly he got bolder, approaching her and slithering his hands onto her waist.

- Oh, I thought I wasn't invited - Iris pretended to look away and being irritated.

- You're right, I should do it properly. My lady, would you follow me to my bed and spend the night in my arms? - Arthur offered her a hand like he was asking Iris for a dance.

- Now that's something I like to hear, I would be honored, Mr Morgan - Iris said, picking up pillow from the floor and bringing it along with herself to Arthur's tent. New bed was really big and he was so creative to place few candles around, making mood more intimate and romantic. Iris whistled, showing she's impressed and rested on his bed, trying it out, rolling around for a minute.

- Ah, sorry, I should ask you. I'm little bit sticky - she said, her face glimmering from sweat.

- No no, go on - Arthur said, plastering his eyes to her body. He rocked a little bit in place as erection was growing hard in man's pants. Arthur's trying to look anywhere around, but it was impossible. Small feet, then slim calves, tights that had just enough cushion do lie down on them comfortable and then those round hips with neat buttocks.

- How much did you have today, Mister? -  Iris raised her brow.

- A few beers, they lured me into that, I swear - Arthur said trying out his convincing tone and waving hands to show he's innocent.

- Surely - she purred, lowering her voice in sexy maneuver - I heard your voice, how it was again, hmm, ring dang doo?

- Maybe - he said, blushing briefly. Oh, Iris could do anything to him now and he would wag his tail like a puppy.

- You wanna come here or what?

- Y-you know, I'm good here for now - he rocked on the chair again. Iris noticed small tent rised in his pants and smirked.

- That's a shame - she sighed with fake disappointment - But I'm perfectly comfortable here so - she said stretching a little bit, her nipples showing of through chemise - Goodnight, Mister. Arthur gulped.  She's gonna be the death of him. 

[apriorisea]

BTS Imagine Series: Priceless, Pt. 2

You x Jin (Part 3)

The days go on, the two of you get closer, and you realize that even though your previous life had been full of successes, your current one is filled with so much joy. You wouldn’t change it for anything. You go to work, you do your best, you succeed, you fail, you earn an honest paycheck, but at the end of the day, you always get to go home to him.

And things are good. Not just good---things are great. Amazing, wonderful, incredible, brilliant. You use all of the adjectives when you talk about him to your coworkers, your friends, your family. You really do feel like you’ve won the lottery.

If there was even one thing you might even consider maybe possibly complaining about though, it would definitely be what you had started internally labelling as “The Flower Impulse.” Your boyfriend took such good care of you, but sometimes his actions felt a little over the top.

You’re out shopping for Jungkook’s birthday one day, and you happen to mention that you think the new line of high-tech refrigerators are super cool; 4 days later, you’re watching a brand-new fridge be installed in your kitchen. You realize that the batteries in your watch have died; the next evening, Jin comes home with a brand-new smart watch, just for you. Whenever he sees a piece of jewelry he thinks you might like, it comes home with him. Your closet is always full of new outfits, you have more shoes than you could ever wear in a lifetime. It’s been 8 months and you have a completely new kitchen, state of the art television and entertainment center, a beautifully remodeled bathroom, a giant king-size bed piled high with any stuffed animal you gave even a second glance. You always have the latest phone, the newest laptop, the priciest earrings. You never want for anything--even the stuff that you never wanted in the first place.

It’s his love language, you remind yourself when he comes home with yet another extravagant surprise purchase. He takes such good care of me, he’s being so sweet. It’s just....for someone who had spent the first year in the city scrimping and saving every penny just to get by, who made a good life out of being frugal and cautious, who had sometimes wondered how she would pay the bills or get groceries, it’s such a schema shift. The miserliness you seemed to have acquired through college and the first year of your job feels slightly uncomfortable with his extravagant spending, but every time it rears its head, you remind yourself to let it go. It’s sweet.

Your 1 year anniversary is coming up, and without even realizing it, you spend the week leading up to the day holding your breath. When Jin asks you what you want to do for the special day, you shrug: “Whatever you want to do. As long as I’m with you, it doesn’t matter what we do.” He smiles and kisses you gently, but doesn’t answer.

The morning of your anniversary, you wake up to breakfast in bed and another bouquet of flowers. “Good morning, princess,” he says, setting the tray down and climbing into bed next to you. He settles you in his arms. “Happy anniversary. I love you so much.”

You turn your head to kiss his cheek. “Happy anniversary, handsome. I love you more.” You nod at the flowers. “They’re beautiful--thank you.”

He squeezes you a little tighter. “I realized I haven’t brought you flowers in months,” he admits contritely. When you assure him that it’s fine, he smooths your hair back and kisses you for a long time.

The rest of the day goes perfectly. You spend every second together, and though he takes you to dinner at a fancy restaurant and presents you with a beautiful silver-chain necklace, the rest of your time is spent simply. You walk hand-in-hand along the river, you take pictures together in the park, you go grocery shopping and take turns pushing the cart, you go home and cuddle on the couch while watching your favorite movie. When he tucks you into bed and snuggles you from behind, you press your lips against his arm and whisper how much you love him. You smile when he whispers back.

3 more months pass, and even the other members are starting to ask when the two of you are tying the knot. Jin meets your eyes and gives you a wink every time; you just smile and switch topics, even with Taehyung, who’s the most persistent. They already know how much you love their oldest brother and more than once Namjoon has told you that he hopes to have a relationship like yours someday.

Not that the two of you are perfect. There are arguments--spats, really--and sometimes you drive each other crazy. You’re just people, and sometimes you just don’t see eye-to-eye.

It’s a regular Tuesday night at his apartment: he made dinner, and the two of you are sitting at the table afterward, hands connected, chatting about whatever, when his phone buzzes. He releases your hand to check the message, then looks up at you. Smiling, he gets to his feet and extends his hand down to you. “C’mon, princess, I have something to show you.”

You let him help you into your jacket and pull you down the stairs; you don’t realize it, but you’re slightly nervous. When you reach the parking lot, he tells you to close your eyes, then leads you awkwardly towards the nearest corner of the lot.

“Are you ready? Open your eyes!”

He’s standing behind you, so he doesn’t see your expression when you open your eyes and see a brand-new, shiny black car sitting in your usual parking spot. You’re speechless. You don’t know much about cars, but you know that this one wasn’t cheap. “Oh...”

He wraps his arms around you. “Do you like it??”

“Jin...” you hedge. “This is....my car is fine.”

He scoffs in your ear. “This one’s better.”

You push out of his embrace and walk towards the car; the buyer information is still posted on the inside of the passenger window. Being very careful not to touch the sleek exterior, you scan the document for the price. Your jaw drops when you find it. “Did you pay for it upfront?” You turn to look at him, trying to keep the disbelief off your face.

He shrugs, trying to read your face. “It’s no big deal.”

“It kind of is!” You gesture at the price-tag. “This is a lot of money for a car I don’t need.”

The tone of your voice is unmistakable now. His shoulders hunch slightly. “It’s not that much. Not for me.”

You shake your head. “You shouldn’t be spending like this, you should be more careful.”

“It’s my money.” He puts his hands in his pockets. “And I got it for you. If I choose to spend my money on my girlfriend, that’s my choice.”

You feel your cheeks flush. You weren’t sure why, but the way he said that made you feel silly, like a kept woman, like-- “Am I your girlfriend, or am I just a sugar baby?” you snap.

His eyes widen and an unmistakable streak of hurt crosses his face. “You don’t mean that. Why are you acting like this?”

“Because you’re acting like this isn’t a big deal! You just spent a ton of money on something that I didn’t ask for and don’t need. Why don’t--”

“It’s just money!”

“That’s exactly it!” You feel yourself getting more irritated by the second. How could he not understand why this is important? The back of your mind itched, trying to remind you how ridiculous it was that you were standing in the middle of the parking lot yelling at each other. “It’s ‘just money’ to you, because that’s all money is for you--something to spend. I can’t see it like that, Jin. I have to be smarter because I don’t have, and will never have, millions to fall back on!”

He grows very still. “Will never have?” he repeats softly. Before you can ask, he goes on. “So what you’re saying is that you think I’m irresponsible? That I can’t handle money?” He sounds incredulous.

“I know you can handle money,” you say heatedly. “Have you gone even one day without spending money?” You know in your heart that you are going too far, but that stupid black car is sitting right behind you and it’s making you even angrier and you’re not entirely sure why.

“Why?” he challenges, his voice strained. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like this??”

“So stubborn! And ridiculous!” he fires back. “I do my best to take care of you, and this is how you react to it?”

Like I have a responsibility to be grateful?? “Take care of me,” you say with a scoff. “You mean smother me with what YOU want. And anyway, it’s not about that, it’s about being careless with money. And if all you want is someone to spend money on without any type of restraint, you’d better go and find someone else, because I will never be okay with that!” Something cracks deep inside of you, but you can’t take it back.

“Maybe I will!” he snaps, his chest heaving with frustration. “Because maybe it will be someone who is a little less judgmental and a little more understanding!!”

You felt your breath catch at this. It hurt. “M-maybe,” you agree and when you feel your voice break, you decide you don’t want to be there anymore. Without another word, you bite down hard on your bottom lip and turn on your heel, walking to your ‘old’, perfectly fine car. You climb in and slam the door, trying not to hyperventilate. You don’t look at him as you speed out of the parking lot.

[tailsfromprovence]

A couple of weeks ago, I heard that Alexandrine had arranged for the Mobil Horse Park to visit, with a stage (training clinic) being run by its operator/owner, Christian Perlerin.  I think my horse friends were a bit surprised when I was the first person to sign up for it.  I’ve been riding very little, three days a week at most, and I’ve been doing maybe one day of groundwork a fortnight with Aero and even less with Flurry.  But I knew about the Horse Park which was set up in the Auvergne a couple of years ago, with a trail of varied and interesting obstacles.  I’d love to go there, but I’m not sure if I’ll ever manage it now.  I knew that there was a smaller version of it which roams around France, it’s even been in our area a couple of times, once in Bedoin and once in Caseneuve, I think.  Both of those happened at times which just didn’t suit me, so I was determined to go and enjoy myself when I realised it would be on our home turf.

My plan was to take Aero and just enjoy ourselves.  After Flurry’s shenanigans at the Pauline Beulze clinic a couple of years ago, I didn’t want to have to spend a day trying to calm down a wired yellow cob.

There are no photos of Flurry misbehaving at the Pauline Beulze clinic, because I think everyone thought I was going to die, but here’s one of him being misbehaving at a dressage show

Day 1

I arrived on Thursday morning, met the owner of the Horse Park, Christian, and went up to see the set up.  Cool!  Lots of interesting bridge type things, a good curtain fluttering in the breeze… this was gonna be fun!

Two other participants were talking to Christian, so I went over and said hello.  Gosh, they were nervous… well, maybe I’d have been nervous if I was planning to do it with Flurry!

To start the day off, we all stood around in a circle and Christian discussed getting your horse into the right frame of mind to work with him.  Attentive, not distracted.  Not bargy or pushy or in your face.  Yup, Aero ticked those boxes.

Hanging on his every word

Then we went off and worked on our connection.

The connection I had with Aero at liberty was not as good as it can be.  With nine other horses in the arena, he was inclined to drift away from me with the intention of sneaking off, sniffing poop and making new friends. Our lack of regular work was obvious.  But he was calm and focussed most of the time even if I did have to catch the lead rope or disengage his hindquarters every so often to remind him to stay with me.

We ended up going over all the obstacles bar two at liberty with no issue – in fact, when I first tied the rope around his neck, we were near the curtain and he made a beeline for it.  CURTAIN!  YAAAAY! sort of thing.  The only one he didn’t like was a very narrow heap of logs – maybe 50cm wide – where he was supposed to life his legs a little higher and step over it.  He didn’t see the point, as it was so easy to step around, but he did it perfectly well if I held the lead rope.

The other one that I didn’t force the issue with was the single barrel which was to be jumped.  Aero will sometimes say NO when I ask him to jump.  I assume there something arthritic going on somewhere, and he’s telling me that he’s just not feeling it on those days.  This day, he popped the barrel sweetly a couple of times on the lunge.  I told him he was brilliant and left it at that.

That afternoon, we did everything mounted.  Aero was, if anything, bored.  I was thinking that two full days of this clinic was not going to be much fun for him after all and that maybe I’d take Flurry along the following day.  But Nini’s horse Bonheur had a complete meltdown, quite out of character for him.  The sort of thing where you say, no this horse is in pain, probably somewhere in his back.  She wouldn’t be able to ride him the next day, so I offered her Flurry for the ridden part the following day.  Hopefully she’d have some fun with him.

Day 2.

I was slightly concerned about Flurry having one of his ‘moments’ with Nini, so I brought him up for the initial in-hand session and showed him all the obstacles.  I can read him pretty well after eight years.  Within minutes, I was confident that safe sensible Flurry was present, not his alter-ego Flurry the nutter.  He clomped happily over all the wooden bridge thingies, stood quietly while I shot arrows and waved the bullwhip around, ho-hummed his way through the curtain and the mishmash of logs.

In fairness, when you’ve been the lead horse over something like this, it’s going to take a lot of bridge to scare you…

I mounted.  We were to work towards riding en cordelette – with a cordero – that day.  It’s a while since Flurry was worked in a halter, so we did some bending and releasing, worked on halts and backing up, using the reins as little as possible.  Then Christian reduced us to a single rope rein – something I’ve done once before, with Aero, and hated.  The feel is so weird.  But Flurry, bless him, was tuned into me and was soon circling, turning, stopping easy as pie.  Even his neck reining improved.

Nini finished working Bonheur on the ground, went and got Aero and we swapped.  I told her to have fun.

She did!

They even jumped the barrel a few times.

Good pony!

Meanwhile… back on Aero…

I worked with the cordelette for a while, but I’m really a bit stupid with it.  I start treating it like reins, rather than remembering to use my body and legs to direct the horse.  So I ended up taking off the cordelette, tying a knot in my reins and just working hands free, with the reins to save us if the steering went wrong.  At this stage, my back was being to say “Ahem.  Perhaps you’re overdoing it?” so I stopped.  A two hour lunch break and a pain-killer should sort things out…

The simple bridge/pedestal

Long story short, in the afternoon I did all of the obstacles hands-free except the jump (I don’t jump any more!) and the two green barrels with the gate/bar thing on top.

In hindsight, I think I could have done that hands free too, I’m sorry I didn’t try.

A “Curtain! Yaaay!” moment

Aero and the seesaw

I waved the bullwhip around (but I’m dangerous with that sort of thing and tipped poor Aero with it aaarghh),shot arrows…

jangled loud bells, went sideways, forwards and backwards over all sorts of things and ended up trotting around with the flag.

All with no hands.  I considered cantering with it, but decided I’d probably done enough to my back for one day.  It was probably the right decision, I’m a bit sore as I type, one day later.

Kinda sorry I didn’t, though.

PS Fortunately, the LSH came up and took some photos for half an hour.  Otherwise, this would be a very empty post.  Thanks, LSH.

The Mobil Horse Park Stage A couple of weeks ago, I heard that Alexandrine had arranged for the Mobil Horse Park…