#that.. i liked having a reason for all of this rather than a grey lukewarm sorta... thing thats always there... its annoying.. like all or

[viviane-lefay]

Dagan Gera & Santari Khri - Headcanon

Part I

Here are some notes about my thoughts & headcanons regarding these two characters - and how I, personally, see them (i.e. some of their backstory + some random facts), as well as their relationship.

I guess, this is something I wrote for myself, first and foremost, so I won't forget

However, if someone happens to like what they found here, then I'd be really, really happy, of course. Finding some like-minded people to talk to would be so nice.

Anyway, here is what I have written so far:

Dagan

First of all some words on his appearance:

-

I headcanon Dagan as quite tall for an Arkanian Offshoot, measuring 1,90m / 6’25’’ (the average height being 1,80m / 5’11’’).

He is of the athletic and muscular built of a warrior (definitely takes after his father in that), that has yet a lithe, almost elvenlike grace (like his mother) to it, with broad shoulders and long legs.

-

Blessed with impeccable bone structure, his features are strikingly handsome, refined yet masculine - with a sharp, chiseled jawline, and high, prominent cheekbones, creating a gracefully flowing ogee curve from his brows down to the chin.

-

His complexion is of a clear and cool marble-white - with a faint rosy sheen, which is especially pronounced on his lips.

As far as I'm concerned, he doesn’t have this weird stripey pattern from the shoulders upwards, because it just isn’t very flattering on his beautiful face, and I think the designers did him a disservice there.

-

His irises are of a silvery, pale icy blue, with a slightly darker ring at the corneal limbus.

He has long and plenteous lashes rimming his big, almond-shaped, slightly hooded eyes, which are, like his brows, of a darker shade than his hair.

-

Dagan's flowing mane is quite a sight to behold - thick and silky, it somehow has a lively quality to it, changing colour according to the incidence of light.

There is a slight gradient, with the roots having a darker colour than the lengths and, especially, the tips - plus some additional highlights here and there.

The different shades give it a depth and dimension that only accentuates its fullness - ranging from a deep and smoky steel grey, to a shimmering, frosty silver-white.

He usually kept it at armpit-level, but has since (post game) grown it out to mid-back length.

His hairstyle is fairly simple: The upper part is combed back and held in place by a golden clip - except for a few shorter strands which are framing his face - while the rest is flowing down his back.

For practical reasons, he keeps the lengths neatly tucked into his hood.

He is also keeping a Padawan braid out of sentimental reasons.

(When he still was a Padawan and on a mission together with Santari, he came by an injury on one of his arms, so Santari had to help him a little with doing his hair for a short while.)

-

He places great importance on having a well-groomed appearance, but not out of vanity. In fact, his good looks is something that he actually is a bit oblivious about. It is rather his abilities that he is quite proud of.

~*~

Many a lady desired the handsome Jedi knight of renown, Dagan Gera, fellow Jedi included, but he only ever had eyes for Santari.

Dagan loved her from the moment he first laid eyes on her - and he knew, with a certainty he could not fathom, that he always would, for as long as he existed.

~*~

"Tough on the outside, soft on the inside." is something that describes Dagan quite well, for the most part.

There is nothing lukewarm about this man. If he loves, then he does so with every fibre of his being - profoundly, fervently, and with unwavering faithfulness.

On the other hand, this can also mean a great capacity for vulnerability, which is why he guards his heart so much.

~*~

While he may be very proud, he puts great emphasis on his code of honour, both as a warrior, and as a man in general.

That is also one of the reasons why he got along so well with Rayvis, becoming good friends on top of being comrades-in-arms.

~*~

Now on to the backstory part:

He entered the Jedi order as an initiate rather late, at the age of 7, despite being exceptionally strong in the Force (midichlorian count of 17500 per cell).

This was because of difficulties the Jedi had in identifying him early on, with him falling under the radar due to living in the secluded slave district on the outskirts of a relatively small and remote city.

Pure-bred Arkanians, which held nothing but contempt for the experiment-born offshoots, usually shunned these areas, characterized by their ghetto-like structures and harsh living conditions, as well as their inhabitants. The only exception to this were a few scientists, overseers and bureaucrats that were tasked with the management of their “biological resources”.

To keep them from rebelling, even the communities of offshoots were made to mirror the rigid hierarchies of the Arkanian caste system, and competitive struggles amongst the populace were very much encouraged, if not enforced.

Dagan was the only child of Medhani & Dhaval Gera, a young couple of higher ranking slaves deployed in the mining business, with Medhani working as an engineer, and Dhaval as construction manager and security guard.

While the working conditions were not as dire as the ones regular miners had to endure, they were still exposed to a hazardous environment, and occupational safety measure laws were a thing that didn’t apply to the slaves who were deemed disposable.

The excessive genetic tampering the offshoot subspecies was subjected to came at the cost of a weakened immune system, which made them vulnerable even to minor illnesses.

When Dagan was 5 years old, Medhani fell seriously ill. Despite her husband’s care, her condition worsened and it soon became apparent that she would not survive without medical attention.

With a heavy heart, Dhaval made a visit to the overseers in the hopes they’d send a physician for examination. Usually, this was seen as a last resort the slaves used to call upon, as the intention behind it was not to give genuine help, but to inspect, and potentially cull, the populace. Only those still deemed useful were given treatment.

It had only been out of desperation that he took this route, as the bond between him and his wife was one of genuine affection, and not, as was customary, based on the utilitarian purposes of the eugenics and breeding programs. Slaves usually did not get to choose their spouses, they were allocated one.

Medhani and Dhaval belonged to the few that resisted this practice, and to the even fewer that were actually successful in their endeavor, as most were forcibly separated. It was only a matter of luck, that, after screening, they were declared a good genetic match, and, thus, allowed to wed.

Unfortunately, the authorized physician decided against treatment and ordered for her to be euthanized (not out of mercy, but to make the respective caregivers free for work again).

Dhaval, who despite it all had clung to hope, was neither able nor willing to accept this, and quickly raised his objections in fierce opposition, but to no avail.

At this point, their small son, who up until then had remained relatively silent, standing hidden in the doorway, came running towards them, loudly protesting and screaming for his mother, only to be ungently grabbed, shoved aside and detained, to make way for the poison that was about to be administered.

At this point, Dhaval snapped and started to attack both the physicians and the overseers. Considering he was just one man facing several opponents at once, he stood his ground for a remarkable amount of time, being particularly tall and strong, and a formidable combatant, trained and highly skilled in various forms of martial arts. Ultimately, however, he was defeated, after reinforcements were called in, and executed on the spot.

With both his parents dead, Dagan was now about to be sent to the housing and educational institution for orphans.

Nobody paid any heed to the boy, and the state of utter shock and distress he was still in – bereaved of the warmth of his family and home.

If anything, Dhaval and Medhani had been loving and attentive parents, intent on creating a little sanctuary amidst the desolation, the cold, always protective of their circle of three – and for Dagan, that is what it was, and what he would always remember, and crave. Neither would he forget, nor forgive that, which had taken all this away from him.

He was but given a certain amount of time to process, and to inter the cremated remains of his parents, which he was handed the following day, before he was picked up.

In Arkania, where detachment, rationality and intellect were deemed the ideal, emotiveness and sentimental bonding was seen as a weakness.

Dagan, however, had always been an emotional child – intelligent, but very much swayed by the stirrings of his heart and his fervour – a trait he would retain into adulthood, even though tempered by necessity and training.

He would come to face much pushback and humiliation because of this trait during his time in the orphanage.

The facility was a dismal and oppressive place that resembled more a factory complex than it did a home, the accommodations desolate, with children living like sardines in a tin.

The education, as they called it, was not so much about the imparting of knowledge, as it was about molding the young minds into the exact shape the rulers desired, perfectly indoctrinated to fulfill their designated role in the societal machinery of Arkania - submissive, hardworking and efficient, loyal only to their owners and ready to betray even their own kind if it meant they were awarded better conditions.

In the two years Dagan spent there, he grew ever more serious and brooding - and increasingly distrustful of others, preferring his own company, never feeling safe to be himself.

His only solace were his abilities, which he honed with great eagerness to succeed - abilities amongst which there were some the others didn’t seem to share. Abilities which kept him safe – and to be safe meant to be strong, to be strong meant to be worthy.

Behind this veneer of strength and confidence there was a face he just couldn’t let them see, a side of him that sometimes even he forgot was there, that yet was the driving force behind everything he was, everything he desired, and stood for – acknowledged or not.

Even later, there were only a few that got a glimpse beneath, and only one person to break this façade altogether – the only one to know who he truly was, the only one he truly trusted and felt safe with, and the one that became the sole focus of his being, his whole universe.

It was one morning that his life would change, and he was summoned to the principal’s office, unaware of what would await him there. As he stepped through the door he saw them – two figures in robes of gold, majestic and noble, an imposing sight in stark contrast to the bleakness that surrounded them.

If it was known that those offshoots that managed to escape their planet often turned out to be among the most driven individuals one could find, determined to prove themselves to be more than an Arkanian slave, it was doubly true with Dagan, who pursued his training with unparalleled ambition and tenacity, pushing himself further than any expectations, placed upon him from outside, demanded.

Even his rather late admittance did not deter him from catching up with, and even surpassing his peers quickly. Combined with his already great latent force abilities, he soon became one of the best, most promising initiates the order had seen in a long, long while.

~*~

By the time he was knighted, he had mastered all forms of Lightsaber techniques (taught during his age) - but with a special emphasis on Form II and VI.

Aside from his abilities with the force and lightsaber, he is also accomplished in a variety of martial arts and hand-to-hand combat disciplines, and can hold his own very well, even without using his lightsaber, or the force.

~*~

When he was put in the bacta tanc, he was 30 years old.

~*~

Coming from a species of genetically tampered slaves, I can only imagine how upsetting it must have been for him to learn about what had become of the republic of old, turned into an empire via an army of likewise genetically engineered soldiers, cloned for a specific purpose, seen as “less than” human, and more as objects and means to an end, not unlike the offshoots were.

It certainly explains the disgust, the sheer contempt and barely concealed anger that is evident in his voice when he speaks about that “unworthy machine of an empire”.

It also explains why he is so keen on building an army to ”cleanse the galaxy with fire”, and his offer to Rayvis to “dream up another [war]” when the latter complained about the lack of honour to be won from the current ones – because to Dagan this indeed IS an honourable goal, justifying the means he is willing to take … and it’s a matter that has become personal, being tied to grievances of the past.

And learning about the Jedi order’s involvement in all of this certainly did not help in improving his opinion about them, either. (He didn’t have to take this out on Cal, though.)

I think these types of injustice were always something he aimed to eradicate, and also one of his and Santari’s shared dreams – to make the galaxy a better place.

I also don’t see him as universally arrogant and condescending – extending to all people indiscriminately – that would be foolish, and he is no such fool.

Imho, it rather concerned those he considered his enemies (obviously), his opponents, and potential rivals, but not regular people who weren’t warriors and force-users like him … I think for them – especially the downtrodden – he had a soft spot, not least due to his own history.

In the flashback scenes on Tanalorr, he talks to Santari about all the worlds he had seen during his explorations that the light of the Jedi did not reach, as he put it. At this point he still equated justice and freedom with the Jedi order, who were seen as the guardians of these values. He truly wanted to bring this light to those worlds, and to the people inhabiting them, because he truly, genuinely sympathized with them and wanted to help them.

[ I absolutely don’t understand how people can see him as a two-dimensional villain after having this background information about him, especially.

Have you guys read up about it!? Arkanian society and history – especially concerning science and medical ethics, as well as the attitude towards sentient life. Like, holy sh*t - Dr. Mengele sends his regards!

To live in such a social system as one of the offshoots, regarded and treated as human trash, truly must have been a nightmare – and it obviously doesn’t leave you unaffected. So, I wouldn’t be surprised if this was one of the causes of his displayed prideful attitude and behaviour – likely as a reactive response of some sorts.

That there is another side to him, his true self, as well, is also an undeniable fact. Of course he has got to have some really endearing and noble qualities, aside from what we were shown.

Otherwise Santari wouldn't have such faith in him, and, as I said, this woman is no fool. She knows her man, as well as this side of him better than anyone else, and she proclaims it with such confidence (in the force echo after the fight in the forrest array).

If anything, these facts are adding to his already great potential of being a complex and fascinating character, who could have been so much more than what he ended up being in the videogame.

But that is definitely something you can blame on the writers, their laziness and disregard. You can definitely tell that they didn’t really care for this character more than him being a mere plot device and tool for Cal’s development, which is really an absolute shame! ]

Santari

Santari entered the Jedi order as an initiate at the common age of 4.

~*~

Unlike Dagan, she did not get to develop a deep bond with her parents, whom she hardly remembered, and did not get to know a home and life as a family the way he did.

~*~

She was very strong in the Force (midichlorian count of 15500 per cell), as well as a gifted, if not brilliant child, whose talents were soon picked up, encouraged and fostered by her superiors. Her ingenious mind stood out like a beacon amongst her peers, and paved the way for her meteoric rise in both ranks and esteem of the Jedi order.

But she also possessed a likewise strong and compassionate heart, and a calm and patient disposition, balancing out her intellectual prowess and vigor.

~*~

Santari's first reaction to Dagan was similar to his (falling in love at first sight).

However, when she witnessed his behaviour towards others – his display of pride and arrogance - which she found unacceptable, she chose to suppress her feelings towards him.

(basically, he only was “that beautiful jerk” to her from then on, whom she wanted nothing to do with, if she could help it, but who somehow seemed to always cross her path, looking at her in that strange manner she just couldn’t make sense of. The intensity of his icy blue gaze stirred something in her that she dared not explore any further.)

This only changed after she got to know him better, after being sent on a mission together with their respective masters, and the two started to develop a friendship, growing close.

~*~

After she and Dagan got to know each other better over time, she also learned about his past – something that left a lasting impression on her, and kept on preying on her mind.

As a feeling being, she could not help but be deeply affected by what she had learned.

As an aspiring scientist, she was sickened to the core in light of this callous disregard for life, and the abject cruelty with which these people were treated in the name of science. The blatant abuse of this otherwise noble discipline infuriated her beyond all measure.

Soon after, she spent many hours in the archives, learning as much as she could about Arkanian culture, history, and their scientific projects – of which the genetical engineering of the offshoot subspecies commanded the major part of her attention.

Aside from the shock and outrage she felt, there was a growing unease building up, as well as the undeniable emergence of another feeling – a growing concern that kept on spreading inside her and left her no peace of mind – linked to the man who had by then grown to become a dear friend of hers. The man whose intense gaze had woven its silver chains deep within the fabric of her soul, inextricably entangled – the man she could not bear to lose.

In the time to come, she immersed herself into her research, desperate determination leading her on, in her quest to find something, anything, to undo some of the damage, the worst part at least, the genetic tampering had inflicted upon its victims’ physical structure – the weakened immune system, responsible for the shortened lifespan and often premature death that afflicted Dagan’s kind.

It would become her first major research project, although one of a more private nature.

At some point, when she was confident enough to reveal what she had been working on, she called on Dagan to visit her in her laboratory, to tell him about her plans which still required testing on a living subject. Despite her optimism regarding the progress of her project, she was afraid of what his reaction might be, and whether they might still be on good terms once he knew.

He heard her out, unease written across his face at the mention of a potential gene-modifying drug, but quickly regained his composure, not willing to let the past cloud his judgement.

Did he not trust this woman with his life? Did he not trust her unparalleled brilliance, her benevolence, and judgement?

He only knew he would do anything for her, endure anything for her, accept anything from her, and so he surrendered himself to her capable hands. She was the one he trusted most!

Her relief was palpable when it became apparent that her experiment proved to be a success.

[ If there is anyone who could pull this off - it’s definitely her. After all she’s this genius of a woman, whose inventions inspire others with awe even 200 years later. So, of course she would be able to do this.

And concerning him – wouldn’t it be the ultimate proof of his love and faith in her, that he, coming from a genetically raped people, trusts her with a procedure like this!? ]

~*~

When Dagan was put in the bacta tanc, she was 28 years old (she's 2 years younger than him).

~*~

Part II can be found here.

[minustwofingers]

Neil did say he wouldn't do a story that goes from enemies to friends concerning Ellie and Abby. Concerning the Abby being gay, I haven't seen anything from the writers that strictly says Abby is straight, but at the same time going from what I have seen in my respective playthroughs leads me to currently believe she isn't. If you do end up attempting to write them as a pairing, to stay true to both characters, sparing Joel and Jesse, etc and not go from canon would help with that because knowing Ellie, if Abby kills Joel especially in front of her and then they start dating, it would go against Ellie's character and it wouldn't be an accurate depiction of her. Then on another level it could easily delve into a toxic relationship if canon events transpire and they get together. I agree with the posts I have seen recently about toxic relationships shouldn't be glorified. I escaped a toxic relationship and when I see those stories I scroll away from them and they aren't appealing at all in more ways than one.

hi again anon! first of all, before i respond to this, i want to say thanks for taking the time to type out a thoughtful response :)

to address what you've sent in an (semi) organized format since these are some really good points (also so sorry for the ramble...i have a lot of thoughts on this...)

a lukewarm defense of ellie x abby/enemies to lovers as a whole

straight abby

so to clarify what i was saying in the other post, i'm not disagreeing that abby could be straight/that you have good reason to believe that she's straight in canon. what i was saying in response to this was that if you're totally convinced that abby is straight, then that's great, i'm just not really sold on the idea that portraying her as queer betrays her characterization, since her sexuality + romantic life aren't a focal point of the games. (please note that i'm writing this under the assumption that your point is that writing a queer abby is synonymous to an ooc abby, which i really heavily disagree with. if this is just you saying that your personal characterization of abby is that she's straight and that you can't bring yourself to imagine her in a relationship with another woman, then that's a totally different thing and imo totally valid!)

neil's take

this is my own personal take on fanwork and fanfiction, but i don't really take this as an indicator that the pairing shouldn't be written for. i personally wouldn't want to see ellie x abby in the next part, because to be executed well it would require the bulk of the plot.

when toxic pairings are glorified

first things first, i'm sorry you also had a bad experience! i've had my share of toxic relationships too and i'm glad we're on the same page about glorifying toxic relationships.

however, i don't use my fanfiction to moralize. there's a rather big difference between glorification and depiction, and i think it's my reader's responsibility to know where the line is. there's also, imo, a big difference between fanfiction that has some morally grey elements and flawed characters and fanfiction that's self-insert and makes your love interest an abusive asshole while still maintaining a joking/positive tone.

there's also a significant difference between pairings and self-insert, too. self-insert implies a sort of escapism, and it's sort of fucked up when the escapism being sought out includes toxicity. pairings are different people and don't have that same level of reader relation.

this all makes it sound like i'm going to purposefully write a toxic, shitty, unhealthy ellie x abby fic. which is not the case and leads me to my next point...

why i would write ellie x abby after joel's death: a short treatise on why i disrespect canon for sport

i have a lot to say about this one so i'll split this up into subsections

exhibit a: characterizations are sort of flexible

i say this with a caveat, because sometimes it's so clear when you pick up a piece of fic that a writer has no fucking clue what's going on and doesn't know how to write a character. but some of the best fanfictions i've read have taken a pairing i'd never see coming and would ordinarily disagree with and turned it into something insane, because odd pairings and circumstances that seem otherwise impossible require you to dig into what's left of a character after the most obvious character traits. on the surface, of course ellie would never be compatible with abby. but what about below that? that's something that you can only find out by writing it with your own personal interpretation of the characters.

exhibit b: genuine enemies to lovers is by definition a little iffy at first

real enemies to lovers has really gotten watered down lately, and i think that part of the problem is that so much fic is tagged as enemies to lovers when it's really just surface level tension that's resolved 1k words in (i myself am guilty of this, but i think it's important to point out anyway). it's supposed to feel impossible at first! they shouldn't start out with the characters making eyes at each other and by describing how crazy the sexual tension is in the air from the moment they meet, because that makes the payoff so much less rewarding. which leads me to my next point:

exhibit c: stirring the pot is fun

this is the reason why any fic i write for them would be set at least after joel's death and likely after seattle. if those events hadn't happened, it just wouldn't be a very interesting story. the challenge as the writer is to figure out how to get these two characters who have both immeasurably hurt the other person into a situation where, while still honoring their characteristics, they manage to adapt and see each other in a different light. that's why i like this pairing—not because i was picking up on mad chemistry between them and just want them to bang. from what i know about them, i feel like the potential for genuine character exploration/growth is crazy.

tldr: i see what you're saying! but the reasons you don't like the pairing are actually sort of the same reasons why i personally do...which is kind of an odd impasse to be at lol. anyway thank you so much for sending this in!!

[zhuhongs]

weilan....

[marvelsbanner]

Part of a Team

Summary: Wanda is the newest Avengers recruit and she’s having a hard time finding her place in this new life- maybe she can find it in you?

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x y/n, you

Warnings: Brief mention of death and blood, minor language (if you squint theres kind of compromising situations? nothing outright sexual)

Word Count: ~2700

A/N: Reblogs, likes, and comments are VERY much appreciated, all mistakes are my own! xx 

**I don't own marvel and if I did Natasha would be alive**

Something was wrong. You were just in Strucker’s lab- just on the trail of one of the enhanced twins. The alarms were going off around you and your boots clanged on the metal floor- before you froze in your place, a red haze overtaking you and suddenly you were thrown into the daylight.

-

You felt tingles run through your veins and down your spine; your head throbbed. You felt vulnerable, seen. What the hell is going on-

You’re in the forest, you think. No- there are rocks. Big rocks-

Focus.

No, not rocks. Graves. Gravestones. Where the hell are you?

You drag your heavy feet over to the nearest, it takes a moment for your vision to focus.

Who’s grave? Who’s grave? Oh god.  No no no- this, this can’t be-

Natasha Romanoff.

You felt like throwing up. This couldn’t be real. You dragged yourself to another stone situated nearby: Clint Barton. Beloved husband, father, and friend.

It felt like you couldn't breathe, you were just there with them. You were just there.

Your body jerks as cold hands grab your shoulders and spin your body to face them-

Steve.

You throw your arms around his neck, “STEVE! Oh god Steve! You’re okay- you’re.. cold” you feel something wet and sticky on your hand, pulling it back and seeing red. So much red.

“Steve..” you quickly stumble back, tripping in the process. It’s then you see- it’s too late. His body was grey and lifeless. He falls onto his knees and then collapses totally. You scream and scramble backwards, head hitting another gravestone in the process.

You turn to face it, to read another name of one of the team members you’ve come to call family- but it's not one of theirs. It’s yours.

It’s your name. A graveyard for the Avengers, Earth’s mightiest heroes.

Suddenly your body jolts and you take a sharp intake of breath- your ears are pounding. Everything hurts. But you see her- the enhanced. She’s looking at you with a look you can’t describe. It’s not fear, it’s not anger.. Pity? Empathy? You can’t look away from her, the glowing red eyes capturing you as their prey.

And then there was black.

-

A few weeks later and you’re back at the tower. Things have changed- the entire world has changed, really. The battle opened up new doors- literal new doors to new realms- that the world had previously thought impossible.

The team had expanded, with Steve’s friend Sam joining the team, as well as Vision, the synthezoid that helped the team to defeat Ultron.

There was also her.

Wanda Maximoff was one of the enhanced twins from Strucker’s experiments, you eventually learned. It was voluntary, but after learning about her backstory you think you would have done the same in her place. 

She lost her brother- Pietro- in the battle and she took it hard. She didn’t come out of her room when she could help it. Clint was rather protective over her, maybe it was the fatherly figure coming out of him- maybe he was feeling guilt over being the one Pietro sacrificed himself to save. Either way, he was able to get her out of the room a few times and get her to eat. Vision also struck up a strange friendship with the girl- but then again, Vision was easy company, and rather empathetic for a synthezoid.

Everybody took a hit from when Wanda messed with their heads, some more than others.

You didn’t talk for a week.

Didn’t even talk with Clint’s kids when they wanted to play with you.

You didn’t hold it against her. She proved what a valuable asset she was to the team as she fought alongside the group. She did what she thought was right at the time, and that’s not something you could hold against anybody.

Ever since the Battle, Wanda has been staying in the Avengers facilities with the rest of the group, an official Avenger, but you could tell she was still uneasy around the team. She only talked when she was directly talked to and didn't come out of her room but for a few times a day for food and training, sometimes not even then.

And then there was you.

She seemed to avoid you like the plague. You weren’t even sure you two made eye contact for the entire first few weeks she was there.

At first you thought she just didn’t like you, that something about you rubbed her the wrong way, or something you had done had offended her.

But it was her eyes that gave it away- the same soft look that she gave you right after exploring the deepest and darkest parts of your mind that day at Strucker’s lab. She knew from the second it happened that she had hit a deep nerve, and she would continue to give you that damn look every time she thought you didn't notice her.

But you always did.

You couldn’t help it, the way you were drawn to her. She reminded you so much of yourself before joining the team, broken, and alone in your head. You wanted to know her. You wanted to be there for her, be someone to her, you didn’t want her to keep walking on eggshells around you.

And so, you told her.

You found her in the kitchen late one night. She was wearing flannel pajama bottoms and a garnet tank top with a plain gray robe overtop. Her hair was a mess, roughly shoved into a ponytail and her hands were cupped around a mug. She was blowing on what looked to be dandelion tea, and as you got closer the fragrant earthy smell confirmed your suspicions.

She looked adorable.

And slightly startled to find you alone with her.

“Evening” you said as a greeting as you made your way to the counter top.

She gave a tight-lipped half smile with a timid “Hi” before going back to blowing on her tea. She made a slight movement that looked like she was going to try to slip away before you continued,

“You did really well in training the other day. Cap can’t give you enough praise” you say, taking a seat on one of the counter barstools.

She looks puzzled for a moment over your attempt at small talk before getting out a “Thank you.”

You both stood there in silence for a moment, just looking at each other, feeling the air grow thicker with each second ticking by.

“I like the pajamas” you say with a small smirk. You yourself were still dressed for the day in your leather jacket and black jeans. You could have sworn you saw flush creep up her neck before she swallowed it down with a sip of her tea.

There was another silent moment as she gave you a quizzical look, “I don’t quite understand what’s happening here.” She says with a vague hand gesture to the space between them.

You gave a slight chuckle, it was very on-brand for Wanda to be straight to the point.

“Look, Wanda,” You rotated your body on the stool to face her more comfortably,

“I see the way you look at me when you think i’m not looking. You avoid me at any given opportunity, I actually think this has been the most words we’ve exchanged in your whole time living here.”

She raised her ducked head to look you in the eyes and gave a small shake to her head, “I don’t understand.”

You don’t break eye contact, but simply offer a small smile as you reply “I’m not afraid of you, Wanda. And I don’t hold anything from that day against you. All is forgiven, and I would like to move past that. I understand you believed everything you were doing was for the right reasons, and the only thing that it shows me is your dedication and loyalty to a greater cause. Even if it was the wrong one at the time.”

She looked shocked, to say the least. Her mouth slightly opening and closing as she pondered what to say in response.

“You all should be afraid of me. You see the chaos I’ve created and you think you know what I can do,” her voice caught before she continued, “But the truth is I don't even know what i'm capable of. I don’t belong here.” she says softly.

You give a sad smile before slipping off of the stool and moving closer to her.

“We all thought that, at one point or another. We’ve got a whole freak circus here, we’ve got more baggage than Delta flies in a year- that's, that's uh, an airline. My bad.” You elaborate after she gives you a puzzled look, holding back a smile at your stuttered explanation.

“Aaand I ruined the moment.” You give a small chuckle, before continuing “But my point still stands. Nobody belongs here more or less than anyone else. We’re all just here, that's the truth of the matter. We’re just a bunch of unlucky misfits trying to figure out how to work as a team. Just give it a try, and maybe you’ll find you fit in better than you imagined you would.”

At some point during your speech you had moved close enough to take her hand, and you look down at it now, blushing before going to move it away.

Before you could, she gives your hand a squeeze before moving in to place a gentle kiss against your cheek.

“Thank you, y/n.”

And with that she slips away to her room, leaving you alone with your racing heart and her lukewarm mug of tea.

-

The next morning you found yourself awake bright and early for another morning training session with Nat and Steve- but you had a guest this time.

“Wanda” you greeted, which she returned with a timid “Good morning.”

“I’m glad you could make it” you say, sincerely.

“I decided to take your advice.” She replies with the smallest smile pulling at her lips.

The two of you stood there for a moment, just taking each other in before Steve cleared his throat, “Alright, we should get started then. Wanda, I'll spar with you to start. Nat, you take y/n. Try not to kill each other, please.” He said with a humored smile.

You make your way towards the corner with Nat on your heels. She gives you a quizzical look with a raised brow, glancing between you and Wanda. You roll your eyes and shake your head, only responding with a pointed “Later,” before your legs sweep under hers and an arm wraps around her torso, flipping you both to the ground and landing with you on top of her.

“Using my own move against me, that’s a low blow y/n.” You both laugh, and you barely respond with a “I learned from the best” before she wraps a leg around your waist and grabs your wrists with one hand, flipping you over and pinning you to the ground. She winks and replies “Damn right you did.”

It went like that for another half an hour, the two of you going back and forth battling for the upper hand. Natasha was the one who had trained you since the beginning, and you could almost say you were near her equal now. Well, you could at least give her a run for her money in a spar.

The two of you were panting and glistening with sweat, cheeks flushed from the exercise when she gave you a mischievous wink and called out to the other two, “Hey grandpa, I think I’m done getting my ass kicked by y/n for the day. I want someone easy, come spar with me”

If looks could kill, the look you were giving her would have the assassin dead on the floor.

Steve only looked amused, grabbing a towel to wipe his own sweat as he responded “Bring it on, Romanoff. Try not to break anything, though. I’ve been told they want my bones for the Smithsonian” Nat rolled her eyes and gave a pointedly fake laugh before they made their way to the other side of the gym, leaving you and Wanda alone.

“Hi” you greeted. She responded with a small smile and a “Hi” in return.

She looked as though she were still catching her breath, the rise and fall of her chest was noticeably fast and her face was still adorned with a glisten of sweat and pretty pink flush.

The same flush you saw from her last night, standing in the kitchen with the dim light around her.

Oh God you were in deep now.

“Nat and I were just wrestling around, hand to hand combat kind of stuff, but I see you and Steve were boxing so it's up to you what you’d like to do.” you say quickly.

“Well.. I do have this,” She waves her hand to show her flicker of red powers “for missions, so I don’t think I really need that kind of training.” She says with a smirk, “But I admit, you seem like a good teacher. Maybe.. some basics?”

She was pushing it. Pushing at this, the same way you were pushing last night. Alright, maybe you could run with this.

You give her a teasing smile, “Alright then. We’ll start slowly. May I?” You ask, reaching out for her, but not quite touching.

“By all means” she says, and you can feel the familiar flush creeping up your neck again. You release a puff of breath and shake yourself out of your thoughts before stepping closer to Wanda, and in one fluid motion you had one leg behind hers, your left arm resting against her upper chest and your other at the small of her back, pushing her flush against yourself.

You could hear the small gasp she let out, smirking to yourself.

“This is a simple take down, easy to get out of, but good for beginning. Now i'm just gonna pull you down as slowly as I can-”

You bring her left leg out from under her and carefully let the two of you sink to the floor, leaving you straddled on top of her and pinning her arms to the ground. The air suddenly felt a lot warmer.

You meet her eyes, breath hitching as you feel her pulse quicken beneath your touch.

You clear your throat and begin again, “Like I said before, it’s easy to get out of, but you want to keep the element of surprise. Use your opponent's body weight against them, if you can twist your wrist to slip it out of their grip and use your hips to to flip-”

Before you could even finish she had you pinned beneath her, wind knocked out of you from the impact.

“Like that?” she said, looking down at you through hooded eyes, thick accent teasing- flirting?

You were suddenly very aware of your close proximity and compromising position- flush against each other with her hips straddling your waist; close enough to feel her rapid heartbeat. 

“Yeah- that was- that was good” you sputtered out, barely able to hear yourself over the rapid beating of your own heart. Or maybe it was hers- you aren't sure you could tell the difference between up and down right now.

She gave a proud smirk and opened her mouth to say something before a certain synthezoid floated through the gym walls, clueless to the moment he was interrupting.

“Mr. Stark requests a team meeting and would like you to meet him in the conference room.” He said simply before turning and leaving through the wall again.

Wanda gave you a look that seemed to say we’ll finish this later and moved off of you. You missed the heat of her body immediately.

She offered you a hand up and you gladly took it, the two of you walking side by side in silence to the meeting, shoulders bumping and small smiles shared between you two as you think to yourself that maybe you could get used to this. 

[kittlesandbugs]

speech prompts!! ✌️

33 for riley and ortega

(9 for riley and spoon)

Okay I know 33 was the serious one and I love it and 9 was the joke one but the joke is on us because my brain latched onto 9.

Title: Stale memories Pairing: Sidestep & Chen (and Spoon of course lol) Warnings: Alcohol/drunk mentions. Word Count: 648 Prompt: Speech prompts, "You're warm."

Ow. Fuck. 

Your eyes crack open just a hair and squeeze shut instantly. Too bright. You didn't think your head could throb harder, but you were wrong. Cotton and stale alcohol coat your tongue in forgotten memories. Must have been one hell of a bender last night. Why? 

Hot breath on your neck and a warm weight half on your chest and you wrap your arms around him tighter through the blanket draped over you. The reason for the heavy drinking can be sussed out later. After more sleep. He squirms in your grasp. 

"Hnnnnno, don't get up yet," you murmur. "You're warm."

A high pitched whine and something cold and wet presses to your cheek and your eyes fly open as you recoil into the back of the couch. This is not Ortega's apartment. Or Argent's. Or your base. Where the fuck— You find yourself staring into big doey brown eyes, but rather than buried under salt and pepper curls they're at the long end of a long grey muzzle. 

… Spoon? 

He licks your cheek, flashes happy-bright in your mind at the recognition and you shove him off you with a swear and pull the blanket over your head like it can block him out on the inside too. He's worse than the sun right now, and your shields feel about as solid as swiss cheese at the moment. 

A rejected little sigh as Spoon jumps off the couch and his nails click on hardwood as he pads away. Hnnnngh. Chen's apartment then. What the fuck are you doing here? 

"Good… ah, afternoon."

You startle, not just from him sneaking in through Spoon's glaring presence. His shields are too good sometimes. What did he say? Afternoon? Fuck, you really did hit the bottle hard. At least you were too far gone for dreams. But why did you…? 

"What… day is it? The date?" you ask, sitting up squinty-eyed against the light, scrubbing your face. 

"The 17th." He closes the blinds for you before taking a seat in a big armchair across from the couch. Elbows resting on his knees, chin resting on folded synthetic blue hands, he watches you and doesn't ask. 

You don't know if that's better or worse than Ortega. 

"That… makes sense."  The day before is the only other date that would make you want to drink outside of Heartbreak. A tray with tea on the coffee table catches your eye and you pour some into the unused mug and down it. Lukewarm, it's been there a while. You don't care, you just need to get the stale alcohol and memories out of your throat. 

"I found you in an alley last night on my way home. Drunk. Blackout?" A pause and you reluctantly nod. You don't remember that at all. Fuck. That's dangerous. "I brought you back here to sleep it off."

"Did you tell them about it?" Ortega and Argent. Last thing you need is to be mother-henned right now. Chen finding you like that is bad enough. Why did you even leave your base? You wish you could remember what had been going through your head. 

"No. They haven't mentioned you missing or being worried."

"Thank you."

"Do you… are you…?" 

He stumbles over what he wants to ask or say. If he should even ask it. If he should even say it. You can sense that much with your brain starting to clear. But fuck, it still hurts like hell. 

"You don't have to worry about me. It was… more celebratory than anything."

His brow knits in confusion. "Celebratory?" The gears in his brain click into high gear. You haven't had any big heists in the last week. Not that he's aware of. He's not wrong. You're still in the planning stages for the next one, really. 

You give him a wan smile. "The anniversary of my second escape."

[ruki--mukami]

How would Ruki react Kou interrupting Clara and Ruki's tea before openly flirting with her? She felt uncomfortable and and looked at Ruki pleadingly to help her as she didn't want to be rude to Kou.

"Enough of this insipid courtship, Kou. I am thoroughly disappointed in you," said the eldest as he snatched his younger brother's wrist, prohibiting him from any potential physical contact with the princess. "Exercise tact from here forward and recognize that Clara wants no part in this. Besides, she came here to have tea with me."

After confronting the blonde with an intimidatingly chill gaze, Ruki finally released his grasp, returning to the ornate table to resume his seat. A faint albeit playful smirk grew on the Vampire's lips as he reached for Clara's hand rather than the tea cup, staring directly into her refulgent eyes with hints of want and urgency after accosting his brother once more.

"Well, if you refuse to leave us alone, then I'll simply show you just how unwelcome you are," said Ruki as he leaned forth, clutching the woman's chin. "This is our rendezvous for a reason, Kou. Clara didn't speak up because she would rather avoid offending you, but the truth is that she prefers my company instead."

Without care as to who witnessed their next deed, the Vampire captured her lips with his in front of Kou, his steel-blue eyes fluttering shut like pages of a book closing behind its hardcover. Enough time elapsed for his current cup of Earl Grey tea to finally cool to a lukewarm temperature.

"Mm... Focus only on me, Clara."

Initially, the kiss started slowly but soon escalated to a convincing display between lovers on Ruki's end, fingers interlocking tightly with each caress of his lips. When he withdrew, all it took was a firm side-glance from the eldest to encourage his brother to leave once and for all, granting the two their originally intended privacy. A sigh of relief escaped him as he pulled back his hand as well, resuming his usual cold and collected visage.

"My apologies. It was the only way to send him off without an unnecessary commotion," he calmly retrieved his cup of tea and drank from it as if nothing happened. "It won't happen again."

[cloudy-minded-idiot]

closing time

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female reader (kinda?)

warning: mentions of blood, a probably very inaccurate description of a wound being treated (lemme know if I should add anything else)

word count: around 3,000

a/n: wrote this before bed last night and edited it this morning. feedback would be appreciated, just pls don’t be too hard on me, since it’s the first fic i’m posting on here. i have a vague idea for a second part if anyone’s interested.

summary: a wounded stranger stumbles into your life one night, and you find yourself helping her out despite your better instincts.

next part

It was a slow night for a change. The last customer had left half an hour ago. An elderly man who had only bought two packs of cigarettes and some strawberry mint gum to go along with it. He was a regular, came in at least once a week, always bought the same thing. The kind of customer you enjoyed after a long day: quiet and quick to leave.  

You were all set to lock up for the day. All you could do now was wait for your shift to actually be over. A difficult thing for someone who was inherently impatient and had nothing to distract herself with. Your phone had died halfway through the day, and you had finished your book sometime around lunch. Any other night, you would at least have your co-worker or your boss to chat with, but Mr. Douglas had left early today. Something about his in-laws coming to visit. You hadn't question it.

A glance at the clock. Ten more minutes. With a sigh, you closed your eyes, just listening to the ticking sound. For a while, you counted along. It was calming. Almost enough to lull you to sleep. Not that that took a lot, you were pretty tired after all. You had long lost track of the seconds gone by when, in between the rhythmical tik-tok, a  shrill bell chimed. The one above the entrance you knew all too well.  

You had to suppress an annoyed sigh. Last-minute customers.

Whatever complaint you had on your mind was quickly replaced by utter shock when you opened your eyes. In, through the drugstore-door, staggered a woman with fiery red hair, covered head to toe in dirt. Bruises lined her face, and she kept one hand pressed to her abdomen in a futile attempt to stop blood from seeping out of a wound. Little droplets fell to the floor despite her efforts, marking her path to the counter.  

"Holy shit!" you breathed out, eyes probably wide as saucers. You continued dumbly, "I think you need to see a doctor."

An understatement, to be sure. If her sickly pale complexion was anything to go by, she was sure to keel over sooner rather than later.

The redhead shook her head determinedly, a pain-stricken look on her face.  

"No doctor. No hospital. Just need some medical supplies," her remark was accompanied by her slamming crumpled dollar bills on the counter.

"O-kay," you said slowly, leaving the counter and taking her by the elbow, "I'll get you your supplies, but you seriously need to sit down."  

You opened the door to the break room, guiding her to a chair that she more or less collapsed onto. She winced in pain, and you stayed a moment to make sure she was all set before hurrying back out. In a frenzy, you jogged along the shelves, mentally trying to create a list of supplies she could need. Rubbing alcohol, a first aid kit, scissors, tweezers. You also grabbed some painkillers and a bottle of water on your way back.  

Dumping all the supplies on the round wooden lunch table, you watched her nervously as she started to cut off parts of her shirt to get better access to the wound. Almost instinctively, you grabbed the trash can holding it out for her to dump the blood-soaked fabric into.  

"Water," she croaked out in between painful gasps, "Need to…rinse the wound." 

Mutely, you nodded. Rummaging through the cabinet of the small old-fashioned kitchen counter until you found a big bowl and filled it up. Dipping a towel into the lukewarm water, you knelt in front of the woman.  

"Let me do it. You need to save your strength."

She looked like she wanted to object, but, in the end, she gave you a curt nod. There was a lot of blood. You did your best not to irritate the wound too much. By the time you were finished, the water itself was a deep crimson. She had closed her eyes, sweat covering her brow. She grabbed you by the sleeve of your shirt when you tried to stand up, holding you in place.  

"Now with alcohol," she told you. Your eyes flickered to the bottle on the table.

You hesitate. Swallowing the lump in your throat.

"Are you sure?"

"Do it," the redhead commanded, eyes still closed. She let go of your arm then, returning hers to the armrest of the chair. Her fingers left behind bloody prints.  

You obeyed her order, wincing along with her in sympathy as you pressed the alcohol-drenched cloth to her wound. You could only imagine how much it must sting. Her grip on the armrests tightened until her knuckles turned white. When you were done, she inspected the wound, eyes narrowed to see in the dim light of the fluorescent lamps. A long silence stretched between you two. She looked up, meeting your gaze for the first time. Her eyes were a mix of greens with little specks of grey thrown in. Under different circumstances, you might have admired them a little longer. They were quite beautiful.

"Can you sew?"  

You nod slowly, sensing where she was going with this and not liking it one bit.  

It took a while to find sewing supplies. Taking deep breaths, you willed your hands to stop shaking and followed her murmured instructions. Put on latex gloves, sterilize the needle and thread. She sounded very calm as she explained how to make the first stitch, didn't even flinch when the needle pricked her skin. It helped calm you down a little.  

By the time you cut off the excess thread, you found yourself unable to recall doing any of the other stitches. The rush of the moment made the procedure seem to pass faster than it probably did in reality. She eyed your handiwork for a moment before giving a small nod of approval, a faint, exhausted smile tugging at her lips.  

“Not bad for a rookie.”  

“Thanks,” you breathed out, already preoccupied with sifting through the first aid kit.

Wrapping the wound was much more your forte. The redhead leaned back in the chair once you finished, washing some painkillers down with a big gulp from the water bottle. With the adrenaline wearing down, you felt as exhausted as she looked. Leaning back against the table leg, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your body relaxing as your apprehension lessened little by little.

You took a couple of moments to mentally catch up to what just happened, processing the sheer craziness of it all. Your brain was brimming with questions. Who was she?  Who hurt her? Why didn’t she get professional help? They were on the tip of your tongue. But the woman passed out before you had the chance to ask her anything.  

With tremulous hands, you cleaned the store for the second time that evening, wiping up blood from the floor, the chair, and the table. You discarded the rags with the rest of the used supplies. All the while, you checked on her multiple times, unable to shake the fear she might die right then and there. She looked unnaturally pale, but her pulse continued to drum rhythmically, her chest kept rising and falling with every breath she took.  

What now? Should you call the cops? The hospital? She seemed pretty set on not getting any authorities involved. Perhaps with good reason?  

You resolved to find out tomorrow, hoping you would not grow to regret it. Slinging one of her arms over your shoulder, you lifted her up and carried her bridal style, mindful of her injury. She wasn't too heavy, but you still were glad you had had the foresight to park your car nearby. After making sure she was safely strapped into the passenger seat, you went back and finally closed up the shop.

________________________________________________________________

The next morning, you were woken up by some clattering sounds coming from your living room. With a groan, you forced yourself out of your bed and stumbled through the door into the next room. The redhead was walking around in the dim light, rummaging through your drawers and dropping things left and right. You watched, for a moment, too perplexed to say anything as you rubbed your eyes tiredly.

“Shouldn’t you be resting or something?” you ask, voice rough from sleep. It was still way too early to be awake. You had thought the pain killers would help her sleep for a couple of hours more. Looks like you were wrong.

“Later,” she muttered just loud enough for you to hear. Crouching down, she opened the bottom drawer of the tv cabinet and pulled out some DVDs you had stored there, only pausing to look at the title of one of them with a smirk.

“Is this not a kids' movie?”

You had no idea what she was looking at, but you crossed your arms, feeling a bit offended anyway. Blame your lack of sleep for making you a little sensitive.

“Do you make it a habit to judge the movie taste of people who were gracious enough to let you stay in their home overnight?”

The woman didn’t answer verbally, just put the movie back and closed the drawer again. She turned to face you, her expression turning serious all of a sudden as if only now remembering where she was and how she got here in the first place. She looked apprehensive, taking a couple of steps in your direction.

“Does anyone else know I’m here?” her voice conveyed a sense of urgency, eyes staring into yours imploringly. Confused, you just shook your head. 

Her shoulders relaxed a little.

“Good,” she nodded, her attention already returning to her little scavenger hunt.

The redhead walked across the room, sifting through your kitchen cabinet next.

You sighed, picking up a couple of things she had knocked over in the living room and putting them back in their proper place. Every few seconds, you would glance at her from afar. She was still wearing the outfit she had on when she came into the drugstore. With her unconscious, you hadn’t seen any way of getting her into some new clothes, at least not without possibly irritating her wound or waking her up. She could surely use something clean to wear. Her current attire was dirtied and bloody, not to mention that her shirt now looked like a makeshift crop top since she had cut off parts of it last night.

“You know, if you just told me what you’re looking for you wouldn’t have to make such a mess of my apartment,” you winced as one of your spice shakers fell out of the cupboard and landed on the stove just as you finished speaking. Luckily, nothing broke.

The woman paused mid-motion, still on her tiptoes, body halfway turned towards you.  

“A radio. An old one preferably.”

Frowning, you picked up and folded the blanket she had discarded on the floor in front of your couch.  

“What for?”

The redhead eyed you for a moment, hesitant and unsure whether you could be trusted. In the end, she kept quiet, ruling against explaining herself. You reluctantly accepted her decision, tossing the folded blanket back on the couch cushion in resignation.

“I should have an old radio alarm clock somewhere in my wardrobe. Will that do?”  

It took you a couple of minutes to find the old thing, hidden away in the very back of your closet, underneath some clothes you hadn’t worn in forever. When you returned to the living room, your visitor was leaning against the kitchen isle, nibbling on one of your pop tarts which she abandoned as soon as she saw you. Eagerly she took the alarm clock off your hands, acknowledging you with a grateful nod. The redhead sat down on the couch, plugging the device into the closest outlet. 

You more or less kept an eye on her while you made yourself some coffee, but you had no idea what she was doing. To you, it looked like she was just fiddling with the controls, only static and a couple of high-pitched sounds filling the living room. It was grating on your nerves, but you made no comment. By the time she finished and turned the radio off again, you were already on your second cup.  

“Are you expecting any visitors in the next couple of days?” she asked casually, sidling up next to you in the kitchen.

 You raised an eyebrow, placing your empty cup in the sink.

“No. Why?”

“I need a place to lay low until Tuesday.”  

“Lay low?” you parroted, “What for? Who are you hiding from?”

Subconsciously, she glanced down at her bandaged wound, and you followed her gaze, slow realization coming over you.  

“Did they do that to you? Did they hurt you?” you asked more softly. She only shook her head in confirmation, “Then why not just go to the police? I’m sure they can help you better than I c-"  

“No,” she cut you off immediately, gripping your wrists tightly in both her hands as if to physically keep you from taking your phone and calling the cops. This only made you grow more concerned.

“No. We can’t go to the police. It’s not safe,” she loosened her grip on you a little.

 Your eyebrows were drawn together as you thought about what she said.

“Why would it not be safe? Unless...,” you swallowed as a possibility crossed your mind, “Are you in trouble? Did you do something illegal?”  

When she didn’t immediatley deny your statement, you started to jump to conclusions, your voice rising with panic.

“Oh, shit! You did. What was it? Were you in a fight? Did you kill someone? Holy shi- Does helping you make me an accomplice? Am I harboring a criminal in my ho-”

She cut off your rant by slapping a hand over your mouth, thus muffling your words.

“Be quiet, your neighbors might hear,” she hissed, gaze darting to the door, almost like she expected someone to burst through it. 

Your eyes were wide in fear, but you listened to her, your heart racing. She slowly removed her hand, giving you a warning look as though she feared you would start talking again. You didn’t.

“I’m not a criminal,” she told you earnestly, “I am, however, on the run, so I would appreciate your discretion.”

“On the run from whom?”

The question was no more than a whisper, too scared to raise the volume of your voice. She held your gaze for a moment before shaking her head.

“I’m afraid that’s classified.”

“Classified,” you repeated, incredulous, “So let me get this straight. You show up at my job, bleeding all over the place and telling me not to call the authorities. I help you out, let you crash at my place and you, in return, wake me up at an ungodly hour, make a big mess of my living room, imply that you might have done something illegal, and expect me to let you stay here until Tuesday without getting any information whatsoever?”  

“I know this isn’t fair...,” she admitted, and you laugh humorlessly.

“Not fair? I would be crazy to agree without at least having an idea what I’m getting myself into.”

The redhead nodded in agreement, looking away guiltily, teeth biting down on her lips. She seemed genuinely beat down, something even you, as a stranger, could tell was foreign to her. Oddly enough, you felt bad, although you knew, realistically, that you had done nothing wrong.

You let out a weary sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Curse your empathetic heart.

“Three conditions,” you conceded, making her look at you in surprise. Holding up a finger, you started your list.  

“One. No more throwing my stuff around. If you need something, ask. I don’t want to have to clean up after you.”  

She nods, having the decency to actually look sorry this time. You put up a second finger.

“Two. You tell me your name. Doesn’t have to be your full name or even your real name if that’s a secret or whatever," you added with an indifferent shrug, "I just want something other to call you than ‘hey you’.”

“What’s the third condition?” she prompted, not commenting on the second one.

“You promise me that you’re not the bad guy in this situation and that helping you won’t land me in trouble somehow.”  

The redhead cocked her head to the side, an almost fascinated expression on her face.

“How would you know I’m telling the truth?”

“I don’t,” you countered without hesitation, “I’m just gonna have to trust your word here. Just as you will have to trust mine that I’ll keep your presence here a secret.”  

For a moment, she regarded you with some indescribable emotion on her face before nodding in concession. Letting go of the one wrist she was still holding, she took a step back. Caught up in the moment, you hadn’t even realized how close you were standing. Thinking about it now made your face heat up for some reason. The redhead raised one hand as though she was about to take an official oath. She held your gaze unwaveringly as she spoke.

“I promise you, that I will not make a mess in your home anymore. And I solemnly swear that you won’t get in trouble for helping me in any way whatsoever.”

Something about her demeanor told you she wasn’t lying. You shake your head satisfied, a small but relieved smile taking over, some of the tension and apprehension leaving your body. She smiled tentatively in return, extending her hand to you in greeting.

“The name’s Natasha.”

Glancing at her proffered hand, you took it and gave it a small shake.

“Nice to officially meet you, Natasha.”

[wizkiddx]

two beautiful girls

someone asked for me to try dad!tom again so here's my humble attempt, I really really hope it doesn't disappoint but honestly I didn’t spend a lot of time on it before my brain turned to mush :) hope everyones okay... today seems to have felt particularly shitty for no real reason, but sending lots o love <3

dad!tomholland x reader

Summary: dealing with your daughter while tom’s away is tricky to say the least, but its all worth it when the three of u are reunited again // fluff (and maybe angst if u squint rlly hard)

(I can’t work out where this pic is from to credit but pls lmk if it’s yours/ u know)

Normally, hearing the door turn in the lock of your front door was one of the best sensations in the world. No matter how long Tom had been away for you would always be filled with such a sense of relief and warmth just by knowing he was there. Sometimes it’d be after he left only a couple of hours previous for a two hour meeting; or after a quick long weekend in New York for an event; ranging to a two and half month block of shooting across the globe. Especially since little Nova was born, your longing for Tom was only quadrupled because you also had a complete ‘daddy’s girl’ pining after him too. 

Tom had only been away for a couple of nights, yet your 18 month daughter seemed to think she’d been abandoned for months on end. She had slept for less than 6 hours each day and as much as you tried to appeal to her wise and intellectual side (which didnt really exist - she was only 18 months) that sleep would pass the time till his return ; she was having absolutely none of it. Nova kept you up for hours and hours, screaming, screeching and wailing because you weren’t as ‘funny’ as daddy or as soft as her daddy. And what does a sleep deprived baby lead to…? A grumpy baby. She refused to eat which was so awful because then you felt as if you were neglected your child. 

It just made you feel a bit of a failure, to be quite frank. The house was a mess - you’d tried almost every toy to cheer her up, which Nova had actually found great joy in launching back at your face in spite. You were a mess too - at one point, who knows when, you had tied your hair back but now flyaways were everywhere as it pulled itself out of the grasp of the too-loose scrunchie. Oh and then there was the babyfood Nova had kindly spat all over your shirt. 

It had been a really fun three days. 

It was therefore counter intuitive, the fact that Tom’s homecoming only filled you with dread. But you didnt want him to think your were a failure. You were supposed to be Novas mum after all, why must things be so hard when they’re supposed to be all natural and easy? She hadn’t even reached the terrible twos phase yet - that seemed like a far off hellish nightmare you were trying to avoid thinking of. Of course, you loved loved loved Nova - she was already growing up so fast that it actually hurt your heart a little, to think of how much in even a week she’d grown. 

But it was still fair to say she’d been a little devil this week. 

This evening you had finally managed to tempt her to sit in the high chair, she’d had about two mouthfuls when you heard Tom entering. Thats exactly what you needed, Tom to get her all over excited so she wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t go down and wouldn’t let you rest. In the madness of it all, you hadn’t managed to even attempt to clean up the sea of toys either so Tom would immediately have all your failings before his eyes. Just bloody great. 

“Where are my two beautiful girls?” 

Like clockwork, he’d always say it and Nova would always gurgle out a “dada” just as she did today. Though this time she kicked her legs in desperation, momentarily looking at you with the kindest eyes she’d given you the week. It was only because she wanted something, you knew that, yet you still gave in. With a sigh you stood up and unclipped her from the high chair, even if this was the first time in a good few days she’d been happily eating her dinner. Or rather, had taken the single first bite. 

She had something to show her Dad though. When he’d left she still didnt have certain skills, capabilities that only now she had learnt. Nova was very proud of her knew ability to kick things - recently discovered when you were attempting to put her shoes on to go to the supermarket. Instead, after 5 attempts of her impressively booting them across the room you’d surrendered - Nova walked round the shops barefoot (probably a bit irresponsible on your part but desperation calls). 

So now she giggled whilst hurtling through the room, as Tom rounded the corner in grey joggers and a black hoodie. You watched his eyes light up, whilst he knelt down at the door way to welcome your curly haired princess into his arms. With all her force, she barrelled into him , her little arms wrapping as far around his broad chest as she could. Immediately Tom reciprocated, pulling her up into his arms and swaying slightly side to side. 

“Hey little one, I missed you!” He was positively grinning from ear to ear as he rose the two of them up , pressing a quick peck to her unruly locks. 

Only then did he look up and survey the surrounding situation, you saw him track his eyes through the mess of toys on the floor, over the counter top piled high with dishes you hadn’t got round to doing and the bin that was overflowing because you just had kept putting off taking it out. It was so embarrassing that you daren’t to even look at him, instead focusing completely on mixing the now lukewarm mush you’d made for Nova round the bowl. Tom slowly picked his way through the hazardous floor, inspecting you closely. It honestly made him feel a pang of guilt, the way you looked beyond exhausted and run down - the dark shadows under your eyes only testament to that. 

“Hey darling.” He spoke softly, keeping Nova pressed to his chest in one arm while the other went to rub your side. “You okay?” Not wanting to disappoint him, you momentarily collected yourself before looking up at him with the a small smile.

“Yeh I’m good. How was the flight?” You knew Tom already saw past your attempt of small talk, the was his eyebrows furrowed slightly being the tell. But before he could question you further Nova started wriggling round in his hold, making him arch back to look at her. 

“Have you been a good girl for mummy little one?” Given your defeated look, Tom was pretty sure he already knew the answer - Nova chose instead of confirming either way to just wriggle some more as she shouted Dada. 

“What you doing crazy?” He chuckled rhetorically, bending down to let her out of his hold, where she then dragged him across the room to the foam mini ball she had. With her still slightly uncoordinated gait, she focused her eyes completely on the ball, her tongue slightly poking out the left corner of her mouth. Then with a forceful yelp she smashed the ball upwards and across the room, flying into a closed cupboard door before bouncing down to the floor. Expectantly Nova’s hazel eyes immediately then searched for her Dad’s - a massive smirk on her face. 

“NO WAY NOVA!!!” He shrieked, running and scooping her up once again, this time spinning her round so her legs flew out- her giggles enough to warm even the coldest heart of stone. “Your right foot is better than Manes!” He laughed, though neither girl in the room getting the football reference- Tom had long since given up hope of you getting invested in football, no matter how hard he had tried. “You’re gonna be the best little footballer Kingston has ever seen!” 

Nova seemed more than fulfilled with his praise, laughing and settling down in his hold whilst he straightened up glancing back at you again. 

“She’s learning so fast.” You mumbled up at him and Tom nodding, taking a seat in the chair next to you. 

“She’s got a pretty impressive teacher!” He tried so hard to perk you up, nudging your side as his gaze felt as though he was boring holes into you. 

Not knowing how to reply to his compliment you left it and the room faded to silence briefly, the atmosphere feeling rather uncomfortable for your marital home. 

“Do you mind finishing off her dinner if I take a shower?” You muttered under your breath, wanting an escape. 

Naturally Tom agreed, even if he watched you walk out the room with a worrisome expression on his face. He knew his job wasn’t easy for you at all. It had been hard enough when it has just the two of you, the long periods apart bore longer on you. Over the time Tom had been acting, he’d become somewhat used to these long periods of absence, it had just become the usual. But for you? You working a normal job meant it was harder. You couldn’t go on double dates with your friends - half the time you boyfriend was across a sea from you. Now though, with Nova, you’d lost someone you grew to depend on. Yes, it might only be for briefer periods of time but it still didn’t feel any easier.  He was effectively leaving you to be a single mother and although his family obviously endeavoured to support you in every way possible. It just wasn’t the same. 

So whilst Nova babbled excitedly her mostly gibberish in the highchair, Tom spent the time sweeping round the kitchen/diner , collecting up the toys into their boxes, loading up the dishwasher and wiping clean the surfaces - all whilst entertaining Nova with brief ‘no reallys’?” And “what ! That’s unbelievable’ and “so what did you tell them?” In response to her baby language babble. His fiery daughter was distracted by the food and one sided chat for all of 20 minutes, letting him just about finish up before she grew impatient of some more attention. 

“So what did you get up to then little miss nuisance?” He asked while wiping her mouth which was now smeared with her tomatoey gloop.

“Went park. Mummy made cookies!!”

“Cookies? No way can I have one?” He did honestly fancy the sound of a cookie, and after lifting her out the seat and onto his lap he looked round the kitchen in search of the baked goods.

“No.” She giggled with a mischievous twinkle in her eye “all gone!!”

“What?!?”

“All gone! Mummy and me drawed too look!” She pointed out the multicoloured scribble of uncoordinated lines spiralling together that had been stuck on the fridge. 

“Oooh that’s beautiful darling what else did you do?”

“Mummy and me played paw patrol! Mummy was silly!” Nova laughed at the memory, Tom squeezing her up into his chest again loving how bloody precious she was. 

“Why was mummy silly?” 

“She did Ryders voice! Mummy voice is better than Daddy’s!” 

“WHAT?!?” Shrieking in offence, Tom tickled her belly until she was squirming on the top of his thighs in fits of laughter, making Tom laugh away too. 

He truly loved his beautiful daughter. 

It took you a good couple of hours to venture downstairs, feeling for some ludicrous reason that you had to pluck up the courage. When you went down, you assumed that Nova had already passed out or was about to - the house was serene and quiet. So in your joggers and one of Tom’s big tees, you crept back down the stairs. Entering the kitchen first to get yourself a water and Tom a beer ( he never didn’t want a beer, especially after a long flight). As you entered, your feet seemed to loose their connection with you body making you halt jerkily, seeing the almost sparkling kithchen. All the toys and general clutter was gone from the floor; the dishes magically vanished, revealing a counter that you’d almost forgotten had existed. What you had done to deserve Tom was beyond you, yet you were so grateful - and  felt a flutter inside your chest as you went back out and into the living room. 

Tom had Nova sat on his thighs, though she was more like slumped against his chest as he tried to lull her to sleep with his deep voice quietly reading one of her superhero books. It had been unavoidable - she’d been indoctrinated into the world of Marvel before she could even talk, Tom insisting on wanting her to know that ‘she could be a superhero too if she wanted to’. The Spiderman baby grow, the captain marvel water bottle- the subtle nods to his roles where impossible to avoid in your house. His warm eyes briefly flicked up when he noticed you standing at the doorway, he paused his sentence to give you a warm smile and nod you over to the sofa beside him.  Still feeling a little self conscious, you stared at the floor while rounding the table and plonking yourself down next to him - allowing just a little gap of space. 

“Thanks for sorting the kitchen, I’m sorry-“

“Don’t worry at all darling” He arched over to you and pressed a quick peck to your forehead before Nova mewled in annoyance of her story being interrupted. He lightly chuckled, bringing the one hand that wasn’t holding the book to brush her unruly curls back off her head. 

Tom kept reading in his soft voice and you let your eyes slip close, just enjoying the peace that you hadn’t experienced in what felt like a lifetime as Tom’s voice lightly hummed through your head. That was until Nova decieded to interrupt the calm just once more. She grumbled insistently and squirmed in her Dads lap, before heavily pulling her head up and blinking at you - holding her arms out expectantly. 

“Think she wants her mum” Tom whispered, already lifting her over to you as you sat slightly bemused by the whole situation. Tom was home, her daddy was home, why did she want you? Tom laughed at your quizzical face as Nova burrowed her nose into you neck, letting out a contented huff. “My girls huh?”

“I promise you this is the first time this weekend she’s acknowledged me as anything more than mrs truchbull!”

“Well she’s spent all evening telling me about how good you are at baking and how your paw patrol voices are better than mine.” He murmured his words lowly, so as not to disturb Nova who was already asleep on your chest.

“She did?”

“She loves her mum… almost as much as I do” Chuckling, Tom wrapped his arm round you, pulling the both of you down to his chest while you swore your heart was exploding. 

“I love you too Tommy” 

Safe to say you and Nova were both exhausted, so after an almost shamefully short time your head rested heavier and heavier on Tom’s shoulder whilst he aimlessly carded his fingers through the ends of your hair. You really were an exceptionally amazing mother, before Nova Tom assumed he couldn’t love you anymore and yet seeing you cuddled up to his baby girl - his feelings for you could only grow infinitely. Making the executive decision to not move either of you upstairs to bed, he instead reached over to grab the blanket. He draped it over himself and his two best girls, choosing to stay in that magical moment for as long as possible. 

He loved his beautiful family of three.

And tess … Tess too ;)

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 16 - An Absolution

Masterlist; Chapter 15

Summary: You and Neil go on your little night out in Oslo after the Freeport mission. As the night unfolds, you get closer than ever.

Warnings: 18+ (stuff happens you know); swearing.

Author’s Notes: Okay so I’m terrified but I had to give you this one already because I’m proud done before the schedule deadline. I loved writing some parts so hope you will enjoy! Feedback is a life-saver so please leave me some? Anyways, enjoy! (and I go hide or sth)

The moment you opened your eyes, you knew that it was going to be a tough day. That ever so helpful, sabotaging voice was back. And it was pissed off at you for being reckless, stupid, and naïve, among other things. In short, you had regrets about everything that happened. Once again, it all boiled down to your deeply ingrained fear of losing people important to you. Because now that Neil undoubtedly noticed how responsive you were to everything he did, there was no pretending that you were not interested. Another step was admitting the feelings you had. And the next one after that was him leaving you for someone better, right? Well, your brain was sure about that.

You groaned and contemplated staying in bed for the rest of the day, avoiding everyone and everything when your phone rang. Interesting. You sat up and picked it up, frowning at the name on the screen. The only person who you both did not want to speak to and also missed already. Sighing, you pressed the green button:

“Morning” Neil sounded like he just woke up as well.

“Hi” you mumbled, anxiously picking on the skin around your fingernails “We’ve never done this before… morning phone calls, I mean,” you noticed.

“I know, but I wanted to check if you’re alright… after everything” tense and nervous Neil was still new to you.

“Yeah, is all fine” you hated lying, but then maybe this time truth would not do you any good.

But, of course, he caught it.

“Pardon me, but I’m not convinced”

You fell back onto the pillows. Caught in the act.

“Okay, you got me” admitting felt like another lost battle.

“I know you a bit better than you’re giving me credit for” he got that right, for sure “So? You know I won’t let it go until you tell me”

Damn him and that selfless heart. You took a deep breath:

“I was thinking... maybe it’s best we don’t mention what happened ever again” you finished the sentence and desperately wished you had this conversation face to face.

He took a little longer to respond, only fueling those wishes.

“Why?” the confusion was almost as bad as the regrets spilling from your heart.

Almost.

“I don’t know,” you sighed heavily, feeling worse with every sentence “Suppose I’m worried it will fuck everything up, and I don’t want that. I want this… us… to work somehow”

That was not exactly what you wanted to say. Another failure.

“If that’s what you want, then sure” you could tell that he only agreed to placate you.

And maybe because he too was surprised by your unexpected admission.

“I just want you to know that for me, it wasn’t a mistake. I did what I wanted to do” he added, making your heart stumble wildly as it always did.

Brilliant.

“Okay... but for the sake of keeping tonight less awkward... let’s not mention it. Please?”

“Your wish is my command” despite yourself, you smiled at that comment, “I’ll pick you up around 6?”

“Sounds good” you glanced at the bedside clock; still ages left for you to panic “Thank you, Neil. You’re too good for me” 

“Well, there’s reasons for that so…” it was that nervous half-smile, you could bet on it “Just don’t stand me up tonight”

The ridiculous idea made you laugh, feeling some tension ease.

“Could never”

*** You managed to get as far as getting up, dressing up, and having instant coffee from the little complimentary set in the hotel room, before you heard a knock on the door. Intrigued, you opened it to reveal Mahir stood on the doorstep, with two coffee cups in hands. A blessing.

“Thought we could have a little chat since I’m leaving later” he explained when you let him in.

“Sounds good. And thank you for that coffee, the shit here isn’t drinkable” to prove the point, you flushed the remains of the brown liquid down the bathroom sink.

“Cheers, my treat” jokingly, you raised a toast with the paper cups and settled onto the armchairs “So, what’s your plan?” he asked after a short comfortable silence.

“I’ll be going back to London tomorrow afternoon. And after that, we’ll see” you shrugged “Hopefully I’ll get some heads up about the upcoming events”

You mentioned the texts from TP to Mahir to explain how you were in the possession of the plans and blueprints in advance of the actual news. He took it without any further questions for which you were grateful.

“What you did last night at the airport…” he met your gaze seriously, and you frowned “That was incredibly brave but also hellishly stupid” his sheepish grin made you laugh.

“Oh, I know. I just thought it had to work out somehow… and if not…” you shrugged, hoping he will understand all that you are not saying.

It was enough that you thought about it. For a split second then, and for hours over the night. That same question: what if you jumped too late? For some reason, an image of those concerned blue eyes was tied to it.

“It’s good to be a little reckless in this business. Just try to stay alive though” Mahir reached out to tap you on the shoulder “I quite like you. And I know that there are people who would suffer if anything happened to you” you did not like the knowing look in his eyes.

“Thanks. I’ll do my best”

Then you steered onto more casual topics concerning your past and experience. He was especially curious about how you got to have such a good eye for guns. Later, you expected he was trying to distract you before he was about to drop the real question of the conversation. You were finishing the lukewarm coffee when he asked:

“So… you and Neil?” the casual tone made you choke on the last drop.

You coughed frantically for a whole minute, with Mahir watching, amused. When you could breathe again, you managed to choke out:

“Whatever do you mean?” you placed the cup back on the table and pretended to be perplexed.

It was not working.

“Oh, come on. You might be a spy, but you’re a shit liar. And all that I’ve seen these few days have been rather obvious” he was enjoying your startled expression “Don’t give me that deer stuck in the headlights stare, hun” at the nickname, you nearly choked on your own saliva.

Again.

“Hun?” everything was better than answering the question.

“You’re missing the point” Mahir leaned back, watching you coolly.

You have lost.

“What gave it away?”

“Let me think…” he tapped his temple “Those longing looks? The bloody dancing when you both looked like the happiest people alive? Or last night, when I’m pretty sure something happened in that bathroom” he narrowed his eyes, studying you intensely.

Without a single doubt, the crimson shade on your cheeks was the answer he was looking for.

“You’re perceptive,” you noticed, staring at the carpet.

“It pays to be in our profession,” Mahir noticed your increasing discomfort, and he added, „Don’t worry, I won’t snitch on you to TP”

“How gracious” you raised your head then and gave him a weary smile.

“Have fun tonight. And stay safe,” he winked, making you speechless again.

“Why do I feel like you’re insinuating something there…” you arched one eyebrow, feigning indifference.

“It’s quite easy to piece together. You’re both staying in Oslo for one more free night… and the rest is-”

“Silence. I know,” you cut him off sharply and glared.

Mahir only laughed in response.

*** It turned out that settling on an outfit for the ‘not-quite date’ was a difficult task. It took you embarrassingly long, and you only decided because it was already a little late. A simple buttoned shirt and skirt had to do. It was a question of an eternal internal battle between: ‘it’s just Neil; who cares’ and ‘it’s Neil; it matters a lot’. The final choice, therefore, was as close to balance between those two states as you could manage. You nearly tripped on the stairs down to the lobby when you spotted him. He was casually waiting, with his back against the wall, dressed in the usual suit trousers and a striped shirt. The new addition was a dark grey coat instead of a suit jacket. And that damned green scarf loosely wrapped around his neck. The whole outfit was so Neil that your heart stumbled upon the sight. When he looked up and met your wandering gaze, he smiled, somewhat nervously. So, it was not just you…

“Evening,” he tipped his head in a greeting when you joined him.

“Hey,” you eyed him again, “Shall we…?”

“After you, miss,” he extended his hand chivalrously, and you rolled your eyes.

He surprised you by offering his arm once you stepped outside. After a small moment of hesitation, you took it, letting yourself snuggle closer to him. You quite liked the coat already.

“How was your day?” he was the one to break the silence.

“Boring, to be honest,” you frowned “Just chatted with Mahir for a little bit and then explored the centre. You?” looking up at him, you took a moment to admire his profile.

Rather pathetic.

“Talked to TP for a while. He’s more open with me now, and I got to admit it makes everything easier” you appreciated the honesty “And then went out to get us a place for tonight” he added, smiling at your brightly.

“What did you tell TP?” you asked, curiosity not letting you let go.

“That I’m about to have some fun in town” Neil shrugged.

He was leading you with a purpose and yet matching the long strides to yours, so you did not have to rush. It was thoughtfulness like this that made it hard not to fall for him.

“Fun?” you raised one eyebrow, intrigued by his choice of words.

“You’re that no matter what we do” his grin widened, and he leaned in to kiss you on the temple quickly.

It took that additional brain cell not to walk into the next person on your path.

“So… you’re about to have me?” you were not sure where that thought came from.

But seeing the way his eyes widened for a split second was definitely worth it.

“I really did not think through that sentence, did I?” he shook his head slightly, making you laugh at the cute image “Though I won’t complain if I end up having you” he added and met your gaze purposefully.

Oh, right. You did expect that, without a doubt. And yet, his openness took you by surprise.

“Smooth save there”

Neil only smiled and inhaled a large haul of the chilly air. His cheeks and tips of the ears were slightly reddened, making for an incredibly adorable sight. You observed him for a second longer before turning to check where you were heading. It looked like he went for a place near the harbour where most places were bustling with activity. Somehow you knew that he would choose well and somewhere that would allow you to talk a little more. You would be lying if you did not admit that you went over some questions concerning his past that you wanted to ask. Because if not when you nearly gave him everything, then when?

Distracting the thoughts, you gave him a once-over and noticed:

“Look at you, all dressed up to the nines. You even smoothed your hair I’m shocked” you smiled when he looked at you.

The happy sparks in his eyes were good enough to excuse anything.

“Well, I decided that you can be the one to ruffle it however you want” to test his statement, you gently brushed one stray lock from his forehead “As for the rest... I had to somehow remind you what you can have” he adjusted the scarf, making you see the dark mark on the side of his neck.

There we go. You swallowed hard, blocking the flood of images and feelings. When you were undressing for a shower before going out, you noticed what he did to you. All those bruises marking the space between your neck and shoulder. Conveniently enough to be hidden by clothes, and yet there to haunt you whenever you looked in the mirror. You had a feeling that was intentional.

“Then it is this kind of a night...” you mused aloud.

In response, Neil made sure to slide down the arm he offered you and intertwine your fingers. It seemed like you could not be walking any closer to each other without putting on straight-up PDA.

“That will depend on us. However, after yesterday... I wouldn’t be surprised” he looked down at you with a smirk and playfulness in his eyes.

Even though you expected him to mention it, despite your pleas, it felt like a light punch in the gut. That is if a punch could make one slightly aroused.

“Thought we agreed not to talk about it” you ignored the feeling, chiding him.

That was about to bite you in the ass, so to speak.

“And we’re not. Unless we went onto the topic of our dreams from last night or something”

It was a mistake to meet his gaze then. With slightly darkened pupils, a self-satisfied smile, and clenched jaw, you knew that he was not joking. You blushed, suddenly relieved that you forgot any dreams you might have had.

“Neil...” you aimed for a warning, but it came out rather like a weak protest.

“Yes, darling?” the innocent expression was back to haunt you.

“Do you want that slap I promised earlier?”

He stopped, and you were forced to stare up at him with the sternest glare you could manage. Neil bit his lip, undoubtedly preparing to drop a bombshell like no other. You braced yourself, tightening the grip on his hand.

“Maybe save it for later. I quite like a little bit of spice like that when it comes to the real deal” the combination of the sly grin and predatory look in his eyes perfected the delivery.

And then he pointed at the building you stopped in front of as though nothing happened.

“This is it” he announced and turned to you.

From the way he looked at you, you knew that the expression on your face must have been quite a sight. You blinked once, shaking off the thoughts and ideas. Not the time.

“Brilliant” smiling dryly, you let him lead you through the door.

You stopped at the concierge desk and let Neil do the talking.

“How can I help you, sir?” the smiley clerk eyed you both quickly.

You did wonder what she saw.

“I’ve got a reservation under James Farrow” your eyes widened at the identity he used.

It was as though the New York mission was important to him if he was keen enough to reference it like that. Now that was an intriguing thought.

“Mr. Farrow and wife, yes?” the lady looked up, happily and expectantly.

It felt as though the ground has moved under your feet, and you were about to fall if it was not for the steady hand gripping yours. Wife?! He was surely getting slapped for that.

“Yes,” Neil completely ignored your wild gaze.

Only once you have been sat at the table in the corner of the cosy yet posh establishment you could give voice to the mess of thoughts in your head:

“Seriously?” that was all you could manage, but he understood.

And, in response, smiled as though it was nothing. Like you should have expected it. You wondered if he is ever going to stop surprising you.

“It was easier that way” he dragged a hand through his hair, shrugging “And, I mean... would it be so bad to be my wife?” the way his eyes sparkled hopefully was enough to give you heart palpitations.

“Allow me not to answer this yet” you gave him a stern look and softened it with a smirk.

It was too easy to be with him like this.

“I’ll wait patiently then. Now, what would my lovely wife want to drink?” he opened the wine menu with a flourish.

And then was forced to order something for the table as you were too busy dying of laughter for the next ten minutes. You calmed down enough to comment on his food choice for the evening – Norwegian mountain trout with fennel cream, petit pois, and hollandaise sauce.

“Are you always this… posh?” you scrunched up your nose, observing him intently.

He grinned at the sight and raised his hands in defence.

“I wouldn’t say I’m posh… More like a man of refined taste,” you watched as he undid another button on his shirt, “Which anyone can see once they look at you” the punchline came with the addition of a hand covering yours on the table.

You blushed and met his soft gaze, using the opportunity to show him how comments like that made you feel. You could tell that the sudden outpouring of affection he saw in your eyes was a shock because his hold on your hand tightened, and his cheeks turned crimson, just slightly. You would have missed it; have you not been staring at him shamelessly. Neil composed himself after a short moment and asked:

“So… what do you want to talk about?” he kept on gently running his thumb over your knuckles.

Might as well keep up the married couple act.

This is how you started the conversation regarding your childhoods, families, and what you were like growing up. You did not expect to learn that Neil grew up in a most normal middle-class house in Richmond Park, but then again, you did not know what else you would consider believable. Growing up, his main source of joy were books and Labrador Retriever named Charlie (“Charlie? That’s a bit too boring, even for you” “What would you prefer? Theodore or Archibald?”). You could both relate to the pains of a boring childhood, filled with dreams of doing something crucial for the world but then not knowing what that could be. Only, where Neil decided to study Physics (despite the wishes of his mundane parents who would rather he did something more palpable like architecture or law; you snickered at that), you went for a more abstract route of international relations and civil safety. Another revelation was the fact that despite your assumptions he was never the popular kid or a leader of any sort as he was much more comfortable in the background of things. Always thinking, listening, analysing but taking his time to voice any opinions and solutions he came to. You realized that this was perhaps the reason why he understood you so well. Overall, the conversation was both enlightening and reassuring, and, by the end of it, you felt like somehow you loved him even more. Or maybe that was due to the bottle of wine you had.

*** Once you were done with dinner, Neil suggested moving to a nearby bar for drinks. It was more than tempting, and so, not long after, you found yourself sat on the bar stools, each with a drink, deep in conversation. As the night progressed, you got more open, either drifting onto the flirty territory or breaching candid topics you would otherwise never consider.

You did not know when exactly you sat that close to each other without looking too cosy. Or when his hand landed on your knee, just under the hem of your knee socks, and why it somehow felt good. The more time passed, you only got more certain that this was, in fact, a date. And you were surprisingly fine with it. Using the natural break in your conversation, you took a longer sip of the drink and asked:

“So, is this how it usually goes?” you met his gaze with disinterest “Invite them for a drink, let your hands wander a little…” you glanced at his hand, just when he purposefully moved it upwards onto your bare thigh below the skirt’s edge.

Bloody hell. You were not sure that lightheaded feeling could be all blamed on the alcohol. Swallowing, you continued the assumption. If anything, the intense look in those blue eyes was encouraging.

“And then back to the hotel room for more?” you bit your lip and swirled the straw in vodka coke.

The warm touch felt rather nice. You glanced around, wondering if such behaviour would not be deemed ‘indecent’. But all you saw was a knowing smirk from the man sat at the nearby table. Right… Neil’s voice and his thumb running over your skin in a soothing motion brought you back to the present moment.

“It’s been a while since anything like that happened,” he noticed, looking at you thoughtfully.

You wanted to trust him on that, but…

“I don’t believe you,” you stared at him, using the opportunity to admire.

With the slightly dimmed lights, his features stood out more. All the sharp angles in his face made him resemble a classical sculpture. The hair almost looked golden. Nothing but beauty. You could tell that others noticed that too, curiously watching you both from time to time. You had no illusions that it was you they were drawn to. And yet, he was staring at you as though you were the most important person in his universe. It was one of those feelings that always took your breath away. Distractedly, you brushed your hand over his hair again, using the privileges he gave you. Tugging on one strand, you enjoyed the passing darkness in his eyes. That hair thing he clearly had going ought to be explored later, you mused.

“Why? Because I’m so irresistible?” he smirked smugly and straightened his back.

Despite the annoyance, you grinned. The charm was undoubtedly working. As always.

“Because I see the way almost everyone looks at you. Like they wanted to stake their claim right here and now” you looked around pointedly, drawing his attention to the small audience.

Catching the eye of one nosey woman, who was clearly eavesdropping on your conversation, you winked. You saw her ogle Neil earlier, and it was more than annoying. Surely, a little jealousy never hurt anyone.

“Are you speaking from experience there?” the grin got wider as he took in your irked expression „Think you’re forgetting the other important factor, which is my own desire for anything like that” he arched one eyebrow and picked up the drink.

“And there’s been none recently?”

That was a risky question, and yet one that you had to ask. Especially remembering the way he was looking at you the previous night. Was it what you hoped it was…?

“You were there last night, so you know best...” he dropped his voice to add, “But I’m still working on getting anywhere with that” to prove a point, he slid his hand higher up your thigh.

You shivered in response, earning a little raspy laugh from him. To put things simply, you were slowly feeling the effects of his actions and words. And it was rather bothering.

“Is it worth it?” shaking off the moment, you reached for more alcohol.

“Absolutely” with his free hand, Neil tucked the hair behind your ear, brushing your cheek gently.

Sometimes you marvelled at how he could be so gentle and yet so seductive at the same time. It was like that during your little bathroom incident, as you came to call it. And that made you wonder whether he would be like that with you if you went even further? Neil eyed you curiously as you realized you were staring. Again.

“Any good thoughts there?” he tapped your temple with a pointer finger.

You blushed a deep crimson. Ever so observant. The way his eyes lit up knowingly made you think he could even read your mind at this point.

“Ah, I see,” he grinned smugly “Well, if you ever want to share... I’m here”

You just stared, unable to express anything you felt. His hand rested on your midthigh with fingers absentmindedly stroking the skin. The look in his eyes made your mind wander. Feeling overwhelmed with Neil, you looked for help in the wood pores on the bar counter. But he wanted to lead that strange conversation to its end. One that he must have intended.

“Usually, I’d start with a date. Maybe some touching here and there to let them know I’m interested” you could feel his analytical gaze “I’m not a brute. First, I’d seduce you before I could have you” the invasive hand retraced back to your knee.

Later, you wondered whether it was the alcohol, his touch, or something else entirely that made you blurt out the truth that he was not supposed to know. Yet or ever.

“You already do”

Realising what you just said, you snapped your head up, meeting Neil’s perplexed gaze. He was not expecting that. Neither were you.

“What?” his jaw fell slack, making for a sight that would be adorable if not for your panic.

“What?” parroting him you hid your face in your hands.

He took a long pause, composing himself because the next time he spoke, the confusion was gone.

“Interesting”

“I can’t blame that on the drink, can I?” you took a deep breath and looked at him again.

The darkness and dawning realization in his blue eyes took you by surprise.

“I’d rather you didn’t” that was the serious Neil you did not know too well.

You watched as he finished the drink, his second one, in one go and faced you again. Your unexpected confession was hanging over you, threatening with awkwardness. But, perhaps most remarkably of all, you were saved by the music streaming from the overhead speaker. At first, you did not catch it, the gentle melody escaping your panicking mind. Neil, though, naturally recognized it. His eyes lit up, and he started humming, all the while looking at you pointedly. Before you knew, he began singing:

‘She's taken my heart

But she doesn't know what she's done’

The determined gaze and his beautiful voice made your heart stumble. Fucking hell. Who knew that of all things, Neil pretending to be Patrick Swayze was going to be the one to finally break you? He was, indeed, relentless.

‘Just a fool to believe I have anything she needs She's like the wind’

He got louder near the end of the chorus, causing many heads to turn in your direction. You watched in horror as he opened his mouth to pick up the next stanza. Using the only power you knew you had, you closed the gap and covered his lips with yours in a small kiss. The surprised sound he made assured you that was the right decision. You let him kiss you back gently and then leaned back, taking in his dazed expression.

“What was that for?” he licked his lips unconsciously, and you blushed despite yourself.

“Just wanted you to shut up and stop embarrassing me” you shrugged, ignoring the fact that even more people were looking at you now.

“Fair enough,” he grinned, taking one of your hands in his.

You wondered when did hand holding become such an essential thing between you. Suddenly you wanted nothing but to be with him alone somewhere. Without the intrigued audience, judging your every move and looking at Neil as though he was the most spectacular sight they ever saw.

“Anyways... should we get going? It’s late, and…” you gestured vaguely, hoping he will give in.

But it seemed like he was on top of his game.

“Is that your way of getting me to come back with you? Because, honestly, you just have to ask, and I’ll do anything” he raised your hand, kissing it in the gentlemanly fashion.

Only you were pretty sure gentlemen did not look at you like that normally. Slowly showing you with gaze alone what going back together meant. You shuddered.

“I’ll note that for future reference. Now come on” you stood up, taking a moment to get used to the effects of those two drinks.

“You’re quite eager,” he noticed but stood up anyway, straightening the long legs that always caught your attention.

“Have you seen yourself?” you retorted, eyes roaming over his body and stopping on his face.

“Blimey... never thought I’d see the day” Neil smirked, but you knew that he was surprised by the honesty “Last night I must’ve hit all the right spots for you” he tried to mask it by distracting you with the best weapon.

But even his hand suddenly wrapping around your waist was not enough to stop the response you prepared for this very moment.

“You definitely did...try” you shot back, taking pleasure in the affronted expression “Shall we? Maybe tonight you’ll do better” tugging on your joined hands, you took a step towards the exit.

The challenging grin was a good enough indicator of his thoughts on the matter.

*** You were not sure how he managed to convince you to come back to his hotel. Somehow, at that moment, with the maelstrom of feelings and emotions in your head, it did not matter that TP was right next door. Or that going back together was a clear signal concerning the ending of the date, something you did not know you were ready for. But once Neil opened his hotel room door and led you inside, nothing much mattered anymore. You had what you wanted: him yours alone without any spectators.

You laughed when he started taking off your coat as a doorman does in all those period dramas:

“Maybe it’s time to drop that gentlemanly act?” you suggested when he succeeded and went to hang both of your coats on the hooks.

“Why?” Neil came back still wearing that scarf that you could not get out of your head “Would you rather I jumped you the moment we came in?”

Following the instincts, you closed the gap to him and started unwrapping the green material from around his neck, all the while making sure you maintained eye contact. He swallowed hard at your proximity. Good sign.

“I don’t know… But I do hope you’ve got a plan” once you have taken off his scarf, you threw it to the side “Now that you’ve lured me in here” searching his eyes, you placed your hand on his shoulder, caressing the newly exposed neck.

Neil’s eyes darkened, and pupils dilated. He placed both of his hands on your waist and leaned in to whisper:

“I was hoping this will happen, so of course… I’ve got some ideas” his lips brushed over your throat.

You could not tell what was stronger, the alcohol intoxication or overwhelming infatuation that you felt.

“Feel free to show me what you’ve got in mind” getting to the end of that sentence was a challenge.

Especially with the fact that Neil started kissing your neck and throat, slowly guiding you with his hands on your hips. Before you knew, the backs of your legs hit the edge of the bed, and he pushed you onto the mattress. He took a moment to take in the image before slowly lowering himself down to hover over you, leaning on his forearms, pinning you down. His nose brushed against yours, breaths mingling as you inhaled, calming down your racing heart. Despite being this close to him many times before, this one felt different. Maybe because you knew where it is likely to lead you…

“For starters, I’d really like to kiss you right now” Neil broke the silence and leaned in.

As much as it was tempting, you didn’t want to give in just yet. The confidence you found during the course of the night was a welcomed help in moments like this. You turned your head sideways, making him kiss you on the cheek. The little offended sound he made woke up the butterflies in your stomach.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit forward? For a first date?” you grinned upon his slightly confused expression.

Letting out a long breath, you reached out to comb a hand through his hair. Bringing him closer again so that you could drag your tongue along his lower lip. It worked if his slurred speech was anything to go by.

“This really isn’t our first date,” he groaned when you tugged on the strands with more force.

Being in power was definitely exhilarating.

“It, kind of, is” you smirked, enjoying his unfocused eyes that roamed across your face.

“Then I, kind of, want to kiss you”

He leaned in, and this time you let him capture your lips in a hungry kiss. It was always too easy to get lost in Neil in those moments. Your hands alternated between tugging on his hair and touching the back of his neck just to feel his bare skin. You wanted to get him out of that shirt as soon as possible. It was a matter of urgency for reasons unknown.

When you broke the contact, both gasping for breath, you used the hand tangled in his hair to pull him down so that he was lying on top of you. Neil glanced up at you with a surprised smile.

“Pretty sure there are better ways of making me sleep with you,” he noticed, showing that offensive tongue poking from between the pink, slightly swollen lips.

Now that was torture.

“Who said anything about that” you crashed your lips against his just because he was there using a break in the sentence for that very purpose “I just wanted to have you at my mercy for once”

How about that. You enjoyed the slight surprise in his eyes, feeling a surge of inspiration. Quickly, you hooked one of your legs over his hip, using it as leverage to switch, making him become the one pinned underneath. The shock on his face was palpable. You took in the parted lips, frown visible on the forehead and perplexed gaze. It only took him approximately 30 seconds to shake it off. Grinning devilishly, he ran his hands alongside your sides, using the new freedom of movement. When he tugged your shirt from the waistband of your skirt and slipped his hand underneath the material, you wondered whether it was not a mistake on your side.

“Trust me I’m always at your mercy. Even if it doesn’t seem so” his eyes glimmered darkly, adding weight to the sentence and making breath hitch in your throat.

From this position, you could see every little detail on his face. The long eyelashes framing dark blue eyes. The adorable cleft underneath his lower lip. The nose that you always wanted to kiss the tip of. Your Neil. Leaning on one side, you traced your finger on the outline of the sharp jaw and cheekbones. His eyes were focused on your face, enthralled with how focused you were on him.

“You’re good at hiding it then,” you noticed, enjoying the way he exhaled when you brushed your thumb along his lips.

“So are you” he smiled knowingly, his hands exploring your upper body just like the previous night.

You shivered when he cupped one of your breasts through the material of the bra. One by one, the doubts were disappearing. Looking down at him, with hair ruffled beyond compare, cheeks flushed, and eyes darker than you have ever seen them before, you felt lightheaded with love. He really could be yours. Feeling like at any moment, you were likely to tell him something that could destroy the careless moment, you leaned in and began the meticulous exploration of his throat and neck. You peppered the skin with kisses and bites, sucking on the sharp edges of his jaw, making him gasp and curse. Every sound he made was like a confirmation of your inmost hopes and desires. And the way he was reacting to everything you did began to build up the heat in your lower belly again. This time the feeling was rather expected. You felt like the further you get, the harder it will be to be ignored.

As though Neil knew exactly what was going on in your mind, he spread his legs and lifted you so that you were straddling his lap before he sat up, facing you. Taking in the effects of your exploration, you blushed. You have more than likely ruined his neck with bruises and marks there were beginning to show up on the skin. You could only hope he would not mind.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever given me so much attention” Neil met your gaze with admiration “I can’t help but wonder if that’s just a promise of how other things would look like with you” his hands retracted from underneath your shirt and started toying with the buttons.

You knew that it was his way of checking if you wanted to progress further. Feeling the pulse between your legs grow stronger, you knew the answer. Everything was too easy with him. You undid the two buttons on his shirt and replied:

“Maybe you’ll be able to test this theory tonight...” trailing off, you met his gaze purposefully, giving him time to catch the implication.

It did not take long. His hands stopped any movement, and he just stared. Then his brow furrowed again, and he cupped your cheek gently.

“Are you... do you want to? Because you don’t need to force yourself with me” the genuine concern and fondness in his gaze made your heart stumble.

You did not deserve him.

“I know, but I think I might actually... be ready” you whispered, giving in to the sudden tender moment and smiled lightly.

“What changed?” Neil brushed the hair away from your eyes.

You could tell that he really wanted to know. And while it was hard to pinpoint an exact reason, you gave him a piece of your mind. He already had everything else.

“Last night you... the way you looked at me, the way we touched... it’s never been like this with anyone” you stumbled over the sentence “And I want to know if... maybe it’s how...” you gave up, but he nodded anyway.

He always understood.

“Kiss me again” it was the only response you really needed, gladly accepting the request.

Straddling his lap, kissing to the point of breathlessness, you already felt as though you were nearing that point when relief was necessary. But before you could think about seeking it out, you had to get rid of that disrespectful shirt of his. Hurriedly you undid the buttons one by one, ignoring the wanting in his eyes. You only stopped when Neil started kissing your neck, making you gasp with the perfectly chosen spots. He knew you too well, expertly using all the tricks that were bound to work. Alternating between kissing, biting, and licking your skin, you knew that it was his way of giving back the pleasure. Despite that distraction, you nearly succeeded when he spoke again:

“Nice of you to wear a button-up” his long fingers went back to toying with the material.

“Why?” you gave out a triumphant sound when that final button was dealt with.

“Because I like being able to return the favour”

The amusement in his eyes was another reason to slide down the article down his arms and then throw it to the side. You have seen him like this before, and yet your jaw fell slack. His arms and chest were as close to perfection as you could imagine. Suddenly, you were overcome with shyness as you ran your fingers over his chest and stomach, feeling the muscles and various scars. Including a very familiar one on his side. It was almost unreal to think that someone like him could be this interested in you. And yet… Feeling him watch your exploration, you met his gaze:

“Do you like what you see?” with how close you were, you felt like you were drowning in his eyes with every prolonged contact.

“You’re beautiful” admitting it felt like a relief.

He finished undoing the buttons on your shirt, and you let him take it off.

“No one’s ever called me that” Neil watched you curiously with a gentle smile.

“Then they all must be blind”

You embraced him tightly, relishing the feel of skin on skin contact you craved so badly. Your warm bodies fit perfectly as you rested your head in the crook of his neck, hands exploring the skin of his back. It was as close as you could get, but it was not enough. You needed him closer. Ideally becoming a part of you in every way possible. The thought made you remember about the need you tried to put aside for the moment. But it was still there. The pulse between your thighs and the ache deep within your core were the main reminders of its existence. Giving in to the feeling, you ground your hips down onto his thigh, but it was not enough. It could never be enough given how much you wanted him. Neil noticed what you were trying to do. He leaned back and met your gaze. You knew that he was likely to see the unmeasurable longing there. You were unable to hide it anymore. Tentatively, his hands unzipped the skirt, and you shifted so that it could be dropped onto the floor as well. You blushed when you realized what position you found yourself in, sat on Neil’s lap in only your underwear. More than likely soaking through your panties just because of how he was making you feel. But, as usual, Neil had an answer to those panicked thoughts…

“It’s okay” meeting your wild gaze, he tilted your chin “You’re perfect, don’t let your brain tell you otherwise” he kissed you gently.

His hands splayed over your back, brushing the skin carefully. His touching putting everything ablaze. You never felt fire like that burn through every cell in your body. For a moment, you wondered whether this was meant to happen. That maybe you were destined to be together. Because how else could it be this perfect?

“You’re being too generous, I think” you breathed.

In response, Neil only smirked. His hands traveled down your sides onto your parted thighs. Rubbing the skin and getting ever so close to where you needed him most. You could not stop the gasp that escaped your throat when he touched your panties. Instantly he knew exactly what to do. Meeting your gaze with determination, he traced the hem of the undergarment.

“Let me take care of this” it was not exactly a question, but you knew that he would wait for consent.

You wanted it more than you could express, and yet that voice in your head was rebelling. Because it meant letting the most important person in your life see you vulnerable. More than ever.

“Neil, I…” you huffed, frustrated with yourself.

“It’s okay, love. It’s the least I can do for you” his fingers scratched the skin just above the line of underwear as though to remind you of what you could get. It was probably both the undeniable need you felt combined with the way he was looking at you that made you nod then.

“Please”

He kissed you on the forehead and let his fingers slip underneath the material. The moment you felt him touch you, any thoughts you might have had disappeared. If he was surprised by how ready you were, he did not show it, instead focusing on making you feel better. Your hands searched for a steady grip and settled on his arms. He let you get used to the sensation before his thumb circled your clit, making your head fall against his shoulder. The fire in your veins only got worse. You moaned quietly, and Neil chuckled in response, clearly satisfied with the response. When you felt his fingers inside, building up a rhythm that was undoubtedly going to be the end of you, you bit down on his shoulder harshly. As a reaction, he only picked up the tempo. You knew that it was not going to take long. He hit the perfect spot then, and you were unable to hold off any longer. He was the centre of your attention, both the cause and the solution to everything you felt.

“Fuck… Neil…” gasping for breath, your fingernails dug into his biceps, bruising the skin.

He must have felt that you were close, for he raised your chin again, preventing your instinct to hide from him. Your walls clenched around his fingers. You shuddered, prepared for the release. When you came undone the next moment, you could not stop yourself from crying out:

“Neil…” it was a plea but also an act of devotion “I…” love you.

Later you realised how close you got to telling him. And he must have understood it too for he captured your lips in a kiss, letting you ride out the high he brought you to. You passed the confession from your lips to his. You felt faint and yet so full of things you could not begin to understand that his lips against yours were like an anchor. Pulling you in and keeping you grounded. He brought you to the edge, and what awaited beyond surpassed any expectations. The world exploded for you, and the only thing left was Neil, his lips on yours, taking everything you were willing to give him, and his body steady beneath your shaking hands. He only ended the kiss when he knew that you were done and withdrew his hand, wiping it on the bedsheets.

“Are you alright?” his voice was raspy, and yet the look in his eyes could not be softer.

You rested your forehead against his, recovering. It never felt so good before. And it was just him bringing you the necessary release after weeks and months of ignoring and denying it. Suddenly you wanted nothing but to know what it would be like to feel him inside you. It was as though once you allowed yourself this much, you only wanted more. Death surely could not be sweeter…

“Yeah, I…” you did not know what you actually wanted to tell him “I want…” frustrated at lack of coherence, you met his gaze hopelessly.

The depth of love, desire, and understanding you saw there took your breath away. He really was quite something.

“What do you want?”

For once, the answer could not be simpler.

“You. I want you”

The genuine smile you got for the confession was worth any future regrets.

“Then we’re even” Neil cupped your cheek while his other hand reached to the clasp on your back “Are you sure?”

But it was the way he bucked his hips into yours then that made you realise. Feeling his hardness, you swallowed. But at the same time, you knew you were ready for more.

“Yes. Shut up and just…” you brushed your crotch against his, unexpectedly not caring about the fact that he just took off your bra.

Impatiently, you undid the buckle on his belt. The want you saw in his eyes was enough to assure you that he understood.

“Got you” his husky voice sent a shiver through your body.

His hand cupped your breast, stimulating the nipples as though you needed more. You kissed him on the neck, making one of the marks even darker. It was almost too simple. Unzipping his trousers, you returned the earlier favour and ran your hand over his crotch. The gasp you got in response was enough to set the fire. You met his lips in a fervent kiss, getting ready to get past the point of no return for you both.

A knock on the door was like a slap to the face, piercing the silence and ripping apart the moment you both build up.

“Neil?” TP’s voice coming through the door only intensified the feeling.

You both stilted the movement, lips brushing, tongues intertwined.

“Are you there?” at the question, Neil broke the contact.

“Yes. Just give me a moment” he called out with that breathless voice that made you realise how close it really was.

“Okay,” the slightly suspicious tone in the boss’s voice was pushed you over the edge.

Fucking hell. You started laughing hysterically, collapsing against Neil, fighting for breath. He sighed heavily and embraced you, taking time to soak in the last few seconds of the moment.

“Holy fuck” the curse only made you laugh harder.

“Indeed” you choked out and met his gaze.

It took him 5 seconds to join in with your mad laugh.

[egcdeath]

a date with destiny

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: fate brings you to a... questionable man more than a few times. 

warnings: lots of fluff, enemies/strangers to lovers, kind of cringe

a/n:  i swear my new thing is poorly writing every played out fanfic trope on the planet, i'm so sorry guys. maybe hallmark can hire me to write a few movies for them

You definitely could’ve avoided this situation if you didn’t wait for the weekend before Christmas to go shopping for your family’s presents.

You had no idea why your time management had to be so bad, but in the midst of working way too many hours in an effort to get promoted, you had completely forgotten about the fact that Christmas was literally right around the corner. And to make it worse, you had a flight tomorrow that you’d also forgotten about.

You sulked to yourself while walking around Nordstrom, waiting for inspiration to strike you for a semi-decent gift for your mother. The whole world seemed to be out that day, and you watched a plethora of shoppers pass you by, with their sour faces and unruly children. After eventually deciding on a black winter sweater for your mom, you went on your way to the candle section, knowing exactly the brand and scent that your sister would love.

This candle was the definition of a non-negotiable for you, and had been the reason you came to a Nordstrom in the first place, and when you found it sitting on a shelf by itself in all of its glory, you had simply become transfixed.

As you walked toward the candle, you didn’t notice that another customer was going for it as well, leading both of your hands to land on the candle, the absurdity of the situation making you blush. This was just your luck.

“Oh, this is awkward,” you played off the encounter, then attempted to subtly pull the candle your way, and away from the man.

“Yeah, it kinda is.” The man whose hand was also placed on the candle said shortly, before attempting to pull the candle his way.

“Hey man, I’m kinda on a tight schedule, and I really need to get this like… right now. I have a flight in like.. An hour,” you exaggerated.

“That’s too bad, ‘cause I really need this candle too.”

You took a deep breath, only you would find yourself in this kind of situation. “To be fair, I definitely saw this candle first. I’m its rightful buyer,” You attempted.

“Mmm, I definitely had my eyes on it first, so with your logic, I deserve this candle.” The man narrowed his baby blue eyes, and put a hand on his hip.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, hoping that maybe if you acted dramatic enough, he’d leave you and your candle alone.

“Sweetheart, can you even afford this kind of thing? I’m sure your friends or family, or whoever the fuck you’re getting this for, would rather you not go into debt over a candle. Just let me have it,” he responded cooly, as if he hadn’t just called you poor to your face.

You looked at him with an open-mouthed expression, completely shocked at the nerve this man had. “Fuck you, you asshole!” You attempted to yank the candle out from his grip, and you could begin to tell that the man’s resolve was beginning to fall.

“Fine. Take the damn candle. But maybe you could give me a little gift in exchange, and go out with me sometime,” he offered, slipping his now free hand into the pocket of his tan peacoat.

You were honestly shocked by this whole exchange. How did he go from insulting you and calling you poor, to asking you on a date? Men are so weird, you thought to yourself. He really isn’t that bad looking, you also considered. “Eat shit, guy,” you told him before flipping him off, and walking away.

-----

Imagine your surprise when you saw the same man from the store sitting in a local Massachusetts restaurant, with whom you assumed were his family. With your sister sitting across from you, you couldn’t help but be gossipy and point him out.

You scoffed and leaned over to your sister once you saw him, “See that guy over there?” You whispered to her, gesturing your head in his general direction.

“Which one?” she asked. “There are like five guys. Are you talking about the dude with the goatee? That old dude with the grey hair? Y/N! I didn’t know you were a grave robber!” she giggled and poked your side while you rolled your eyes, “Or, are you talking about that sexy beast in the white sweater?”

“The se- the dude in the sweater-”

“Oh yeah, he’s pretty hot. You should go talk to him,” she began to scoot out of her seat.

“No, you idiot!” You whisper shouted to her. “That guy basically attacked me in the store the other day. And then, he had the nerve to ask me out on a date!”

He must’ve felt the two of you’s stare, as he turned around and gave you a brief surprised look, then a twisted smirk.

“Oh my god, Bea, act natural,” You whispered before turning your head so fast that you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

You brought a hand up to your face and rubbed your browline in a fit of embarrassment. You looked down, then began to shovel pasta into your mouth at an ungodly fast rate.

“Oh come on, Y/N, he’s cute. What did he say to you that was so bad that you turned down his hot ass?” She asked, glancing back over at the man who was still occasionally looking over at your table.

“It’s kinda a long story. I’ll tell you later,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the heat steadily growing on your cheeks.

Beatrice shrugged, and a waiter approached your table.

“Ma’am, the man over there wanted me to give this to you,” he said before awkwardly placing a glass of white wine in front of you, along with a ripped napkin with a note and number.

We started off on the wrong foot, give me a call sometime?

Ransom

XXX-XXX-XXXX

-----

You looked at the note for so long, that it would’ve been better off being tattooed on the back of your eyelids.

“Just text him, Y/N,” your sister told you, her sentence a bit muffled by the toothbrush dangling from her mouth.

“He really seems like a dick,” you groaned, before rolling onto your back and throwing an arm over your eyes. Your sister rinsed out her mouth in the ensuite before returning with some advice.

“Well, he’s hot. Maybe you can bring him as a date to the Holiday party or something,” she stated before sitting down on the foot of your bed. “What’s the worst that could happen, Y/N? If he hurts your feelings, you can throw a hot drink at him and walk away. At best, you get a hot piece of ass to be your boyfriend.” she squeezed your calf reassuringly.

“Ugh, fine,” you huffed. “I’ll text him tomorrow.”

“That’s my girl!” Beatrice cheered, then placed a kiss on your forehead. “‘Night, Y/N,”

“Goodnight,” you mumbled before attempting to fall asleep.

-----

The funny thing about you, is that you were a master procrastinator. So after a day and a half, you’d put Ransom’s number into your phone, but had contemplated so many different opening texts, that you’d just completely given up. Besides, you had your parents’ holiday party to be attending and to be caring about.

You did some final touch ups of your makeup, before heading downstairs, and watching guests arrive from a safe spot in the kitchen.

Sometime after talking to about seven of your childhood friends, you felt a large hand press against the satin material of your short, red, tie-waisted dress.

“No way, girl I see everywhere?” The man who you know knew was Ransom, asked.

“It’s Y/N. Hi, Ransom,” you bit the inside of your cheek to hold back your laugh at the absurdity of it all, the fact that he was standing in your parents’ home, the fact that he was literally everywhere you went, and because you’d never in your life been called ‘The girl I see everywhere.’

“Why didn’t you ever call me? I mean, not even a text? Also, why are you following me everywhere?” He inquired, moving to stand in front of you.

“Well, I uh.. I forgot. Sorry, I’m a super busy woman. And I also live here... sometimes.. so if anyone is following anyone else, it’s you following me,” you tried to say this confidently, but something about Ransom really threw you off your game.

“You live here? No way. Is this like your family home?” He asked, and you nodded. “So our parents have been friends this whole time, and we had no idea.” He gestured to a doorway, where your mother and his were talking with flutes of champagne in hand.

“This just keeps getting weirder and weirder,” you said quietly, mostly to yourself.

“Maybe, this is just fate. We’re meant to be together, and that’s why we keep seeing each other everywhere,” you raised an eyebrow and tilted your head when he said that to you, genuinely confused at why those words would come out of his mouth. “Oh, lighten up. I’m just kidding,” he said with a bemused smile.

“You have a weird sense of humor, Ransom.” You told him plainly, trying to act disinterested, though you were rather endeared. He definitely saw right through you, as he gave you a little grin before he began to speak again.

“So tell me about yourself.”

-----

After a few too many drinks, you were walking down the sidewalk, hand and hand with Ransom as you searched for any sort of restaurant that could be open at that hour.

Finally, you found a quaint and rather empty 24-hour diner with its lights on. The two of you sat down in a booth, and struggled to contain giggles as you sipped from mugs of stale, lukewarm coffee. Why you were giggling, you weren’t completely sure.

“You know what, Ransom, once you get over the asshole-ness, you’re not that bad,” you reached out a hand, and set it on top of Ransom’s, that was idly sitting on the table.

“Wow, thanks,” he chuckled, a dark pink dusting his cheeks.

“Why did we even come here?” You groaned, “No offense, but this coffee tastes like ass,” you whined,

“And how do you know what ass tastes like?” Ransom burst out giggling at this.

“Shut up. Are you twelve?” You pretended to be annoyed with him, before giving in and laughing along with him. “Can you take me home?” You asked with puppy dog eyes.

Apparently, one for the dramatics, Ransom tossed a $50 bill onto the table, then stood up from his seat at the booth to swoop you up in a bridal style.

“Ohhh my god,” you slurred as he carried you out the door, then eventually set you back down on the pavement once he became tired.

-----

While you walked up to your doorstep, Ransom stood on the sidewalk, watching you contentedly. As you got to your door and turned around, he gave you a big, goofy smile and a wave.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Come in with me,” you invited. It was safe to say, Ransom happily obliged.

[thestrangeprophet-blog]

The Muse and the Soldier

The Muse and the Soldier

·       f/reader x Levi Ackerman  

·       No NSFW

·       HC storyline

·       I do not own the rights to any of the characters

·       PLS support the actual Attack on Titan anime

 You open your eyes and take pleasure in the feel of the morning breeze coming from the window. Breathing in the air which carried the aroma of those special blue flowers potted downstairs in front of your tea shop. Seems you have left all your pencils across the desk and the drawings plastered to the walls from the night before had fallen again. You pick up the drawings and admire the one yet to be finished. It is of a regular customer you normally see when they come back from a scouting mission. Piercing grey eyes in contrast to his fancy dark undercut. Levi Ackerman. You always wonder how he has the time and will to keep up with his hair. After laying his portrait neatly on your desk, you ready yourself for another day brewing the finest tea you can in hopes of seeing Levi for another bout of his favorite tea.

The Captain and Commander Erwin were frequent visitors to your tea shop because Levi had always recommended it. For one reason or another, the tea you brewed satisfied him beyond what he would brew himself with what he had. Erwin had thought the same as well and it brought you enjoy your tea could be held to such standards. As a fellow tea lover, the subject of tea was never a boring conversation with Levi, no matter how short or blunt it was with him. Sure, most people see it as something more along the lines of hot leaf juice. It’s more than that and Levi understood it though it went unspoken.

Captain Levi came alone today and took his usual seat. It was rather unusual but you carry on and bring his favorite. The teapot whistles and steams like Titan smoke with the lingering scent of black tea that trails through the wind. As you set his cup in front of him and pour his tea, you notice he seems lost further in thought than normal. You finish pouring his tea and hesitantly ask if there is anything else you can do for him. He takes a second to come back to this moment and raises his head ever so slightly. His hair still covering those captivating grey eyes. Releasing an exhausted breath, he asks of one thing of you.

Levi: I- If it’s no trouble to you… will you sit with me Y/N? Even just for a moment?

Y/N: That’s a bit of an odd request, Captain. I’m surprised you even remembered my name. But sure! Anything for my best customer.

Levi: You don’t have to address me as Captain. J-just Levi will do… and thank you.

You sit in the chair across from Levi where Erwin is normally seated discussing the next expedition and plans you have for Eren and the cadets of the 104th Cadet Corps. As of in this moment, this is simply two human beings sitting together enjoying tea. Just sounds of the breeze against your ears and the softened sips coming from across the table at the lips of the man before you. Levi’s cheeks are flushed with a gorgeous rosy blush. It seems he wants to start a conversation but has no idea where to start. Its adorable how a man with a reputation for being such stone cold badass could be flustered over tea. You strike a smile in his direction and find your own way to start a conversation he could initiate. Call it encouragement if you will. The sketchpad and pencil you keep handy finally get put to use. The pencil scratching against the paper caught Levi’s attention though he kept to his tea. He watched as he appeared on the paper before him in awe.

           Levi: Hey Y/N, is that supposed to be me?

Y/N: Oh, uh yeah haha! I figured you weren’t much in the mood to talk so I didn’t want to bother you while you were enjoying your tea.

Levi: You are a woman of many talents I see.

Y/N: I wouldn’t say that much.

Levi: N-nonsense. I come here to enjoy the tea you brew perfectly and the singing you think I can’t hear. Didn’t know you were so skilled with a pencil as well.

Y/N: I usually never have the time to draw during the day Levi.

Levi: Can I request something? I’ll pay for it.

Y/N: No need to pay me. What can I do for you?

Levi: I need you to draw someone for me. I don’t really know them too well, but they have a face I could never forget.

Y/N: Oh I wonder who this special person is! Could you describe them for me?

Levi: Well, they’re around the same height as me maybe a bit taller. They have long black curly hair that glistened as though it was a fire at sunset. Brown eyes like fresh honey in the morning and glistened with a hopeful shine I envy. They wear some rather dark clothing year round even when its hot outside. Their nose is slightly hooked and cheeks soft and red. Their lips glistened and they look soft to the touch. And even though they don’t think it looks very nice, they have a scar across their left eyebrow. I’m not exactly sure how they got, but they always try to cover it behind their hair yet it still finds a way to see the light. Their jawline is soft and looks like it could rest perfectly in the cups of your hands.

Y/N: Wow Levi, I didn’t realize you had a way with words.

As the form you forge is refined from guidelines to distinctive features, the person he is describing truly is a sight to behold. You may not have the colors to use but you understand the value of what those colors are which are just as powerful. Levi sits across from you amazed at your skill for a second time until you’ve finished your work. You hand him the final sketch and you already know he just asked you to draw yourself but play it off. He takes the drawing into his hand and holds it up so you and the drawing are in view with each other.

Levi: As beautiful on paper as you are in person. Tsk, your hands are even a work of art on their own.

Y/N: If I may say I’m rather flattered you’d ask me to draw myself just for you but you aren’t very good at making your flirtations subtle. Unless you weren’t trying to be subtle in the first place.

Levi: Oi its not my fault you decided to pull a journal out of nowhere while we’re drinking tea together!

Y/N: You are one hundred percent correct Levi. Really for a man who exudes such confidence, I’ve never seen you even stutter let alone get flustered over tea. Its cute.

Levi blushes even more and looks away trying to play it off. He already knows you’ve got at least one finger wrapped around him. No one really talks to him like that besides this Hange person he mentions. They sound like an interesting character from the way he describes them. You would love to meet them one day when they aren’t experimenting on Titans. For now, your gaze remains fixed on Levi’s profile as he tries to regain his composure. You would not have assumed he was even interested in such trivial things other than being a clean freak.

You are aware of Levi’s reputation but just getting to sit with him in such an intimate setting gives you a next level view of him. The clean undercut and soft flowing hair was just asking to have someone’s fingers run through it and embrace the feeling of each strand even if it meant making his hair just a little messy. Each group of strands followed the path of the wind as leaves blew from the vines. His jawline was as sharp as the blades he carried to cut down titans like butter. His hands, though they bore the weight his fallen comrades and the destined purpose to eliminate and survive, seemed delicate under the rough calluses of combat. But his eyes. Those damn grey eyes. They pierced right through me whenever you got the chance to see them yourself. All of the things they saw, and the feelings kept behind them like a locked door. There is so much pain rage behind those you wonder when the last time Levi got to see something outside the realm of horror outside and within the walls.

           Y/N: Levi?

           Levi: Yeah Y/N?

Y/N: When was the last time you’ve ever had a chance to relax and just lay low for awhile?

Levi: Can’t say. I don’t think I’ve given myself a damn break but I can’t afford to. I don’t exactly have anything else to do.

Y/N: Hmmm. Let’s change that. Make sure you make yourself available tomorrow at sundown. Come back to the shop and dress casual. I know somewhere we can go. I’ll even grab an extra book so you can out those hands to work other than killing Titans and jotting down whatever it is you do write for your paperwork.

Levi: B-but I c-can’t just abandon my po-

Y/N: Shush. In case you haven’t noticed you don’t have any missions scheduled for at least another week. Plus business around here is slow. We could both use a little time for ourselves. Even if its just a moment.

Levi: *blushing even more* uh- ok. I guess it wouldn’t hurt. You didn’t have to act like such a brat about it.

Y/N: If you weren’t Levi I would throw this lukewarm teapot of tea all over you

Levi: *Smiling ever so slightly* hmp I uh… I guess I could see you doing something like that. Okay, I’ll be back tomorrow to pick you up. I’m curious as to where this place is anyway.

Y/N: Alrighty then it’s a date! No ifs ands or buts. You got that Levi?

Levi: Loud and clear.

You’re leaning over the table to make sure Levi knows where he needs to be. You’re close enough to him you can smell the scent of the tea you made him mixed with just the scent of him. You’d kiss him right then and there if you really wanted to. Looks like he had the same idea but you pull away because you weren’t in that much of a rush. His lips were parted as they awaited your lips to meet his. It was thrilling seeing him even a little desperate for you but making him wait was even better. As much as Levi felt he couldn’t abandon his post, he couldn’t say no to you. He’d been working up the courage to talk to you for as long as he has been coming to your shop. Though he wasn’t the one to ask, Levi appreciated that you were the one to take the lead in making plans to accompany each other on a date. You’d been waiting for the opportunity to even be in this position. Now that it’s here, you make plans to make the date an enjoyable one that Levi would also like. Good first impressions are still pretty important. Especially if you want to make a good impression for Levi.

           Levi: Tsk, its almost sundown. Id better get back to the brats at HQ.

You grab his hands and ask him to wait just a little while longer.

Y/N:  Well if you’re going to be leaving, at least let me give you some extra tea and a meal to take back with you. It’s the least I can do for agreeing to going on a date with me on such short notice.

Levi: Tsk make it quick please.

Y/N: Don’t rush me. I’m being nice to you. I usually don’t just give out free tea and meals to anyone you know.

Levi: I’m sorry. Thank you. I- I uh really appreciate your generosity.

You hand Levi the tea and meal you made just for him. You touch hands for a moment and get goosebumps for the first time in a long time. You blush just enough that Levi notices as well and gives a small smirk. You exchange that smirk with one of your own.

           Levi: Thank you again Y/N. I guess I’ll see you soon.

           Y/N: You guess?

           Levi: I will see you soon.

Y/N: Much better. And by the way, you have a very charming smile. I wish I could see it more often. It suits you almost as much as that cold gaze you’ve always got equipped.

Levi: I never really gave it much thought what that looked like. I’ll pick you tomorrow. I promise.

Y/N: You’d better if you know what’s good for ya hahaha! I’ll see you tomorrow, Captain.

END

Comment if you’d like a Pt. 2!

[seiin-translations]

2.43 S1 Chapter 5.2 - Stand By Me

2. ESCAPE

Random girls: oh no the girls are fighting

Translation Notes

1. Koutairen is the abbreviation for the All Japan High School Athletic Federation.

2. Kuroba calls his relatives おんちゃん and aunt is おばちゃん, so yeah

3. Economy class syndrome is “deep-vein thrombosis said to be caused by periods of prolonged immobility on long-haul flights.”

4. Murderer was in English in the original text

Previous || Index || Next

The bridge in the middle of Monshiro Town and Suzumu City was the goal of Haijima’s daily jogs. At the end of his jog, he dashed across the concrete bridge that was shining silver in the scorching August sun, then made a U-turn at that same speed and ran down to the riverbank. “Uwah!” His soles slipped on the overgrown summer grass. He ended up sliding down to a flat area of the riverbank on the enamel bag he carried on his back.

Hah, hah…He lay there for a while, breathing heavily. In the shadow of the bridge, the temperature felt a little cooler than on the bridge. He could feel the dampness of the summer grass soaking into his hair.

He got up unsteadily, put down his bag and took out his ball. He imagined that he was tired at the final stage of the game and purposely began to do one-person passes before he could catch his breath. With an overhand motion, he threw the ball directly above him. He continued to set the ball rhythmically no higher than a centimeter. The sound of the ball being softly flicked echoed in the quiet riverbank for a while.

The concrete piers rising from the riverbank had several colored chalk marks on them, though they were already fading. The marks were used as the attackers’ positions, and he set the ball to them. He spun around and hit the bouncing ball with a jump back set at the exact same height. He turned forward again and set the bouncing ball again. This time he intentionally changed the spot he hit it to. The ball deviated somewhat and bounced up. He then ran to chase it and crouched down and set the ball while he was underneath it. Gradually, he purposefully shifted to spots where he hit the ball to harder and harder places.

Haijima’s sets were characterized by their “speed,” but they were sets that crushed the attacker’s will, or sets that didn’t “allow for themselves to be hit,” so to speak. As the ball moved in a parabolic position, it had time to drift near the top before it began its free fall. If he set a ball that overlapped the top of the parabola with the attacker’s highest jumping point, the attacker could use that time, even if it was only a few tenths of a second, to draw out his power and hit the ball as hard as he could. In order to always have that kind of set, he had been refining his technique by focusing on unparalleled accuracy in ball handling.

Immediately after hitting the pier with a back set, the ball bounced back with a bang and he flipped it up with his elbow, still facing backwards. He jumped up to the high ball and hit the mark accurately with one hand. Technically, he could keep on doing this for an hour or two without dropping the ball. However, his legs couldn’t keep up, his toes got caught in the summer grass and he pitched forward. As he slid forward, he stretched out his body hard and thrust the back of his hand into the gap between the ball and the ground.

Although he connected with it through willpower, that was as far as he could go. The ball was flicked low in front of him and crashed into the grass.

He sprawled out on top of the grass, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath. The blue summer sky spread out above the slope pierced his eyes, and he raised his arm to cover his face.

“Shit…”

He let out a curse under his arm.

“Why do I have to do this…”

In addition to withdrawing from the semifinals of the Fall Tournament, the school gave them the severe punishment of refraining from club activities for the time being. It wasn’t that it was settled that they were guilty, but rather that the current situation was completely grey. Okuma said it was in fact because it was grey. If the fact that the scandal was real were to leak through some other channel and the school had received the report but not taken any action, the school would be on the hook. There were several such incidents a year, regardless of the type of sport. Okuma was a little more familiar with that sort of situation—it was the school’s way of protecting itself by taking strict measures, he said.

Since they weren’t banned from practicing on their own during the summer break, Haijima continued to practice on his own, just as he had done when he wasn’t a part of the team. Since he didn’t know when the next competition was going to be, he hadn’t made any adjustments for a tournament, just blindly practicing everyday to beyond the limit of his stamina, much less stopping at the limit. However, even if he practiced until he couldn’t move, he couldn’t see the effect by himself. There was only a growing sense of futility, no sense of accomplishment at all.

What am I doing here all by myself? What’s the point of practicing by myself? There’s no point in this unless I’m in a place with a net and there’s someone to set the ball to——.

Fading chalk marks on the bridge piers. The reason they were fading was because he didn’t have to practice alone anymore before, and because he didn’t draw over them these days, even when they were getting fainter.

---

It had been a month since club activities were suspended. September 2nd, the second day of the new semester—they only went to school for the morning yesterday, so today was the real first day of the new term.

When he pedalled his bike to the station, he saw the train arriving at the station building. He pedalled faster and charged in front of the station, then immediately got off his bike and jumped over the ticket gate. Monshiro Station was a desolate little hut, so the platform was right in front of the ticket gate. He ran and made it just in time through the gap in the doors as they were about to close.

A dark green afterimage intruded his vision and he momentarily felt dizzy. He took off his glasses, wiped the sweat off his face with his shirt, and exhaled. The fan spinning on the ceiling blew a strong and lukewarm wind that ruffled his hair.

I pedalled my bike as hard as I could for just a little bit, but I’m tired…

As he leaned against the railing by the doors and put his glasses back on, he noticed a tall person wearing the same uniform as him standing in front of the priority seats.  

“Granny, if you don’t tie it up properly, they’ll all fall out.”

While giving something that sounded like honest advice to the old lady sitting in the priority seats, the person was tying the mouth of a supermarket bag that was filled with some kind of fruit and then putting it on the overhead rack.

“Thank you, young master. I wish my son was as big as you.”

“Your house would get more cramped with people like me in it. My mom keeps saying I’m getting in the way.”

“Well, isn’t your house big enough?”

“Our house is wide horizontally, but it’s stuck verti…”

Kuroba also noticed him and cut himself off.

“Oh…hey, you’re kinda sunburnt.”

I was wondering what he was going to say first, but it was that? He sure has it easy.

Kuroba was dressed in his uniform, a white shirt and pants. There was a rule about ties, but few male students wore them in the summer. A colored T-shirt was showing through under his shirt, and Haijima couldn’t judge if that was cool or tacky because he didn’t have the evaluation standard for that. Haijima was just wearing the white shirt.

The only bags he had was the flimsy school bag designated by the school (it wasn’t designated to be flimsy, Kuroba just flattened it himself), and he wasn’t carrying the enamel bag for club activities. When he clicked his tongue with the implication of Look at you, just enjoying your vacation like it’s natural, Kuroba flinched a little and pouted.

They averted their gazes and leaned against the railings on either side of the door. There was no conversation that would stimulate them, so there was silence. Haijima planned on going home after doing some more self-practice today, so he had his usual enamel bag slung over his shoulder, but he couldn’t bear the weight on his shoulder and put it down on the floor. The single ball, his own that was used for outdoor practice felt terribly heavy.

He might be right when he called me sunburnt… When he turned the direction of his face, he could faintly see the frames of his glasses faintly reflected in the door glass. He had been practicing outside for overwhelmingly longer than usual, so he felt unusually burnt. I spent a lot of time outside yesterday too…so much that I don’t even remember how long I practiced. He wondered if that showed how tired he was.

Even though it was September, it was still blazing outside. However, the scenery of the paddy fields flowing outside the train window had become quite autumnal before they knew it. The growing rice plants were beginning to hang down their ears as though bowing. He squinted his eyes at the dazzling golden glow of the paddy fields reflecting the sun that had been shining brightly since morning. It seemed to overlap with his current situation, where he could only look on at a brightly sparkling world from a dim place, which made him feel even more frustrated.

Their participation in the Spring Volleyball Tournament’s preliminaries was hopeless at this stage. The semifinals would be held at the end of this month, and the two schools that would advance to the finals for both the boys’ and girls’ teams would be decided. Two months later in November, the finals will be held for the right to represent the prefecture at the National Tournament, where there was only one spot for both boys and girls. The Spring Tournament Final Selection, where representatives from all over Japan would gather, would be held in January of next year.

They had completed the application, so it seemed that they still weren’t officially non-participating yet, which was rather like a state of limbo. Even if they were allowed to resume their activities in the second semester, it would be difficult to rebuild a team that had fallen apart during the summer break in less than a month. It would be fine if their goal was to participate—but what Seiin, Haijima, Oda wanted was a ticket to Nationals. They needed the ability to beat all the teams in the prefecture and rise to the top.

What about Oda…he wondered if he had already given up on the Spring Tournament. As the days went by, he had a feeling that he was the only one feeling irritated like this every day, but when he saw Kuroba’s reaction, like he had forgotten something completely important, that worry turned into certainty.

Every time the train stopped at a station, the number of passengers and density within the train increased. Right before Nanafu Station, it became congested like it was rush hour, and the two stood side by side with their backs against the door. The two tall boys blocked the door glass, turning the inside of the car dark and causing the passengers near them to somewhat keep a distance from them.

There was a group of girls in Seiin uniforms chatting animatedly. He could tell from a glance that they belonged to a sports team, and from the logo printed on their bags, he could tell that they belonged to the girls’ softball team.

“Oh, you’re the first-years from boys’ volleyball.”

They seemed to know their faces and called out to them.

“We heard about it. Your club activities got suspended.”

They said in a teasing tone. “Yeah, well,” Kuroba said with a stiffened face and took a step over to him. While pulling his bag to between his legs with his foot, Haijima gave a side-eyed glare at Kuroba. …Don’t chicken out. What’s with that “Yeah well” and that half-smile. Aren’t you the reason why.

“…You, get a clue. It’s thanks to you that the Spring Tournament has become a total waste. We missed out on Inter-High and the National Meet, so this was our last chance to go to Nationals…”

He spat out in a biting voice, with the back of his head against the door glass. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kuroba’s shoulders jump.

“I, I know that much. It’s Oda-senpai and Aoki-senpai’s last year, and I feel awful about that. But if that’s the case, then you should trust me even more.”

He was just as persistent as he had been a month ago. Haijima had no idea what he was being so stubborn about. Was there anything in this world that required him to stubbornly prioritize it over the Spring Tournament? If it were him, he would say no.

“It’s not just the third-years. Why don’t you think about yourself too? We’ve only got three chances.”

He emphasized “three chances.” If he could, he would do it dozens of times, but he could only go there three times in his life.

The Spring High School Volleyball Tournament had been held in the first gym of the Yoyogi National Gymnasium in Tokyo for a long time as a March tradition, although there had been some changes to the outline of the tournament since it was moved to January. Since elementary school, Haijima had watched those recordings to the point where the tapes were literally worn out (some games were only recorded in analog form, so he went out of his way to have them shown to him on a VCR). He had imagined dozens of times, hundreds of times, that he would be fighting on that orange court—not the multi-sided court they had been playing on until the quarterfinals, but the center court right in the middle of the gym. Ever since elementary school, he had only been imagining that both when he was asleep and awake, only to suddenly realize one day that he had only three chances to actually try to go there, and that truth felt absurd to him.

When he decided to leave Meisei Middle School and go back to Fukui, he thought that with this, he had nothing to aim for anymore. But Oda’s words shone a light on what he had once stored away in a dim place.

“I honestly believe that this year’s Seiin will definitely be a team that goes to the finals.”

“Lend me all your strength.”

Can I really trust him…? If that’s the case, as long as I give it my all, I’ll get us there. After the summer training camp, he was at the point where he was becoming more and more convinced that he could make that a reality with this team, and he couldn’t step on the brakes twice.

“I can’t wait until next year. If this year’s ruined, then we lose one chance. Three chances will become two. And even if we could go there three times, it still won’t be enough.”

Why doesn’t he understand…really, how many years does this guy plan on being in high school?

“Were we told that… You seemed to be attached to the Spring Tournament, but that’s because you’re from Tokyo, right? What’s the difference between this and Inter-High or the National Meet?”

Kuroba’s tone of voice also became a little stronger. What had been sulkiness gradually became something like resentment and lashing out.

“If you wanna be in the Spring Tournament so badly, I’ve got an idea for you. You should go back to your old school in Tokyo and compete with them. You don’t care what team you’re on, as long as you can be in the game, but not Seiin. You’re only thinking about yourself anyways, aren’t you?”

“…? Why do I have to be told that? No matter how you look at it, you’re the one who’s not thinking about the team.”

Their voices, getting louder and louder, attracted attention from around them. The girls’ softball team was exchanging whispers that sounded like “Boys’ volleyball is splitting up.”

“You don’t know the rules of Koutairen (1) in the first place, do you? There’s one where it’s a general rule that if you transferred schools, you’re disqualified from participating in games unless six months has passed. If I transferred to Meisei right now, even if I get accepted, there’s no way I’d be able to compete in the Spring Tournament preliminaries anyways.”

He was starting to feel very annoyed, wondering why he had to explain all that in a place like this. As expected, Kuroba looked as though he didn’t know about such a rule, but he still snapped back, saying, “W-Well, if that’s the case…”

“You want to go back if you can be accepted, right? I knew it.”

“I didn’t talk about that at all. Let me say this clearly, even if I’m accepted, who’s gonna want me as their teammate again? I…”

His voice caught. The words that had congested in his throat were spat out in small chunks.

“I’m…the setter who caused his teammate to attempt suicide…after all…”

Kuroba widened his eyes and became speechless.

That face suddenly disappeared from his vision with a surprised “Oh?”

The train had just appeared at the station and the doors had opened. Having suddenly lost the support of his back, Haijima almost fell onto the platform.

Passengers, including many in the Seiin uniform, surged towards the doors. The current of people pushed him and he jumped onto the platform on one foot, but his bag he had put down on the floor was left behind and he hurriedly pushed his way through the crowd to go back. A large rectangular bag was slumped between people’s feet. While almost getting kneed several times, he reached for the strap and retrieved the bag.

The departure bell began to ring, so he quickly retrieved it and was about to jump off the train, but just as he put his foot down the edge of the train car, he suddenly felt hesitant.

…What’s the point of this whole day? I’m just going to school and killing time between classes, not even doing any club activities, and yet I’m just going to go home tired.

He saw Kuroba’s head in the stream of people heading for the ticket gate. It was like a rock sticking out of the shallows, his height one head above the others. While walking with the current pushing him, Kuroba turned around and shouted something at Haijima, but Haijima turned back and went back inside the car.

He sat down on a vacant seat and threw his bag out onto the aisle. Of course, the Seiin students had all got off at Nanafu, so there was no one else left who was wearing the same uniform as him.

That’s what he thought, but then he saw Kuroba’s trouser-clad legs step over the bag in front of him and stop.

Blinking, Haijima looked up.

“What the hell are you thinking…”

Kuroba, looking a little flustered, was panting heavily.

“Why are you coming back here too?”

“You’re skipping school? What are you gonna do?”

“What, you say…”

He was about to answer “Nothing really,” but then fell silent.

It wasn’t as though he had any destination or goal if he kept riding. But…

He just thought of one.

“…Kuroba. Come with me.”

“Huh? Where?”

Kuroba darted his eyes about.

“Tokyo.”

“Huh? What are you doing there?” He looked like he still didn’t understand yet.

“I’m going back. ——To Meisei.”

***

“…Huh, Yori-chan came back? …No, it’s fine, yeah…I owe you, Uncle. I’m begging you, please don’t tell anyone until tonight. It’s not like I’m running away home, I’m with a guy who knows Tokyo, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Kuroba, who had been talking in front of the station attendant’s office, came running back and said, “I kept you waiting. Here.” He pushed half of the bundle of tickets into his hand.

Fukui Station was in the center of the northern part of Fukui Prefecture and a terminal station where limited express trains stopped. The express train from here to Maibara in Shiga Prefecture and the bullet train from Maibara to Tokyo cost about 13,000 yen for a one-way trip—not an amount that a high school student could afford after making up his mind on the spot, so they had Kuroba’s relative who worked at the station to arrange the tickets for him. He didn’t know if tabs were a thing at train stations, but it felt like it was Kuroba’s tab.

With a humble look on his face, Haijima received the ticket.

“You asked me to come with you, but you used me as your wallet.”

“It’s not like that. I’ll repay you. My dad will be there when we get there.”

“Well, I don’t really mind. Oh, that relative of mine just now is my aunt’s…Yori-chan’s mom’s younger brother.”

“I don’t get it.” The relatives and aunts got mixed up in his mind. (2) Were there really hundreds of relatives related to the Kuroba family around here?

“Yori-chan went out of the prefecture to play again during vacation, but he arrived on a night bus a little while ago and came back to town the same time as us.”

Since the departure time of the special express train was approaching, they talked as they ran up the stairs to the platform and jumped in through the nearest door.

It was a weekday, but the unreserved seats were quite packed. Most of the passengers were in two categories: groups of young people on summer vacation since universities were still on break, and businessmen on business trips. They looked terribly out of place in their high school uniforms, but thanks to Haijima’s enamel bag, which was easily recognized as something for club activities from an outsider’s perspective, they should look like they were going to an away game or something.

Kuroba found two empty seats and took the window seat first. Haijima shoved his bulky bag into the overhead rack and sat down in the aisle seat. The two of them were taller than most people, so it was quite a bit of trouble for them to tuck their legs in.

“The seats are so cramped in limited express. Won’t we get that economy class syndrome thing?” (3)

“It’s only a little over an hour to Maibara. Bear with it.”

“Accused of misconduct, then skipping school in the new semester and escaping outside the prefecture, can my situation get even worse…umm, how do you put the seat down, oh, here?”

As he continued to complain, Kuroba pushed down the back of his seat one notch, and when he thought he was going to rest his back on it, he pressed his face against the window and said excitedly, “Oh, it looks like we’re setting out already!” Even though he had been complaining about his situation, he was completely acting like he was on a school trip, saying, “Let’s buy a station lunch if they’re selling food in the train. I’m starving.” This guy fundamentally has weak self-awareness.

It shouldn’t have been reassuring at all to bring along a country bumpkin who got excited just by riding the express and having to take care of him, only adding to his burdens—but he convulsively invited Kuroba. Even if he hadn’t depended on his wallet, he didn’t think he would have even thought of going if he was alone.

Kuroba made an “Mmm?” sound and stirred, rising from his seat. Haijima was fed up, wondering why he couldn’t stay calm like that, but it seemed that he got a call as he took out his vibrating cell phone from his back pocket. As soon as he checked the caller, he got a startled look on his face. “Itoko…ah, not Yori-chan, but my cousin, Itoko.” “Your relatives sure are complicated.”

He thought he was going to answer, but he only indecisively stared at the message, not even attempting to respond.

“What if it’s an emergency?”

“No…we had a little fight, and she was staying angry at me, so what’s with the sudden…”

Kuroba clamped the phone between his hands and the vibration eventually stopped.

“Ah, she stopped.”

His voice when he said that sounded a little disappointed as he breathed a sigh of relief.

The gravity from the front lightly pressed him against his seat. Haijima imitated Kuroba and lowered the back of his seat down a notch, resting the back of his head against it and relaxing. He slowly closed his eyes and turned his attention towards the vibrations beginning to come from underneath his buttocks and the muffled sound of the train as it gradually picked up speed. He didn’t mind the feeling of being wrapped in a thin barrier, something characteristic to long-distance trains.

It’s been a while since I felt this feeling. In the winter of my second grade of middle school, I rode the express train in the opposite direction…

“Haijima.”

It came from next to him. It was no longer high-spirited, but calm.

“You’re not seriously going to transfer schools, right…?”

“You’re still saying that?”

Haijima answered curtly and opened his eyes.

“If you’re not, then what…”

“Who knows.”

“What do you mean, who knows?”

Kuroba’s voice became a bit wild, as though he was impatient, but even if he said that, it wasn’t as though Haijima had any specific predictions about what would happen.

After that “test of courage” incident at the summer training camp, he began to have nightmares from time to time. He didn’t really hold a grudge against Okuma and the others for their prank. It was just that those people didn’t know his circumstances, and it made him realize that he was still dragging along what happened at Meisei.

It might be that something would be put behind him for the better, it might be that something worse would happen. It might look foolish to be desperate and going out of his way to have his wounds gouged out, but in any case, if he stayed here, then this summer would end fruitlessly in a state of limbo. For Haijima, this current situation where he couldn’t go forward or back was unbearable, to the point where he thought that it would be better to just destroy everything once and for all.

“I thought if I met Souta, it would play out one way or another.”

“Souuuta.”

Kuroba repeated the name in a strange monotone, then cleared his throat like there was phlegm stuck in it.

“Hey, if you don’t mind me asking…what happened at your Tokyo school…?”

“I might as well. I’m the one who made you come with me, so it makes sense for me to tell you. We have time while riding anyways.”

“I-It’s not like I’m curious or anything, okay? You don’t have to talk about what you don’t want to talk about.”

“Don’t get so weirdly worked up over it.”

Although he said that, this guy was someone who paid attention to the needs of others by nature. Unlike him, he could be considerate in order to not hurt others. …Oh, was he coughing because he found it hard to ask? It was then that he realized that the excessively high-spirited chattering might because he was finding the right moment to broach what he wanted to ask.

“He’s the guy who…attempted suicide, right? What kind of person is this Souta…?”

“Yoshino Souta. My volleyball buddy since fourth grade.”

Haijima began to play volleyball when he was in fourth grade. The Haijima family was a father-son household, but his father came home late and he had to stay home alone for a long time, so he was enrolled into a local elementary schooler volleyball club as a substitute for after-school childcare. The club itself wasn’t a full-fledged one, as its main objective was to improve the physical fitness of children, but Haijima became more and more absorbed in it, to the point where volleyball became everything to him before he knew it. Volleyball might have become something like a parent to him.

It was at this club that he met Yoshino Souta and Komukai Tetsuto, and they would later play together at Meisei Middle School. Although they went to different elementary schools, they invited each other to continue playing volleyball at the same middle school, and they all took the entrance exams for Meisei Private Academy Middle School.

“Our coach was named Minami-sensei, who took care of us older kids under the head coach, and the one who told us about Meisei. Sensei told us that it was a powerhouse school in Tokyo, with great facilities, and that they worked closely with their high school to nurture their players over the long term. So we all promised Sensei that we’ll definitely go to the Spring Tournament from Meisei High.”

“Heh…With such a good team and environment…” How did something like that happen? He seemed to want to say.

Why did it become like that, really. When he was in elementary school, everyone got along well. They all looked forward to the days they had club, and there was never a conflict of opinions that created a bad atmosphere.

However, that was probably because their positions were fluid and they were playing volleyball half in fun. As they started to play a serious and strict team, the disparity in ability and physique became more and more apparent, and their old relationships changed before they knew it. Haijima himself probably realized it quite late, but it seemed that everyone distanced themselves from him from the very beginning.

“Can’t you get it up there? If you don’t do that, I can’t do anything either.”

There was a time when Haijima lost his temper because the attackers’ serve return rate was terrible.

“You don’t do receives, so don’t talk to us about anything. If you’re gonna tell people to do something, do it yourself first.”

“If I do the first touch, then I can’t be the setter. If I’m not in the middle, there’s no offense. The left’s job is to receive first and foremost. It’s the job of all of you to connect to me. I’m not gonna let someone who’s not gonna do that to spike.”

Haijima thought he had said something obvious. Even thinking about it now, he was sure he wasn’t wrong in theory. No matter what formation it was, the setter didn’t take part in the reception. However, his statement made the atmosphere rough.

Apparently, this kind of thing would happen so often that his teammates would go online to enthusiastically badmouth Haijima to each other in order to vent their frustrations. Someone’s mother must have happened to see their screen, and shocked by the situation, the mothers overreacted and it reached the coach in the form of harsh advice from the parent’s association.

“Haijima, why did you have to say things that way…? I’m not a teacher at this school, so I won’t delve into it that much, but could you please think over your words a little bit more? That’s why, even though it’d be fatal for us if we don’t have you, you’re benched for the next game.”

The mothers’ cooperation was important not only in terms of funding, but also for training camps and away games, so the coach was probably reluctant to speak out. He decided to temporarily drop Haijima from the starting lineup for the tournament in the fall with the sense of “appeasing them.”

It was on the very day of the tournament.

Yoshino Souta attempted suicide by slitting his wrists.

The direct trigger for this was the fight with Haijima during practice two days ago, apparently.

“MURDERER…do you know what that means?” (4)

“…? Um…what was it again?”

He was suddenly asked a question and gave a quizzical response. He didn’t want to give him a quiz, so he immediately said the answer.

“A killer.”

Kuroba’s seat suddenly creaked as he sat up and looked at him. Haijima only gave him a side glance and purposely continued to speak detachedly.

“I also didn’t know until I looked it up in the dictionary, so I guess they weren’t really good at bullying. Even if they drew graffiti with a word I couldn’t read, it didn’t really affect me. …Until I went home and looked it up.”

The Yoshino incident spread outside the club, probably embellished, and he ended up being harassed in school. When he came to school in the morning, there were words carved on his desk, or his textbooks and school shoes went missing. It was of course unpleasant and disgusting to see his shoes lined up in front of the fence on the roof (which was of course off limits as a general rule). Going to school because he had club activities remained the same in middle school and now. Haijima didn’t have any reason where he had to cling to his classes to the point of struggling to find what he had lost and being treated as entertainment as he did that. Staying home from school was an easy decision.

“So with the end of the second semester, I stopped going to school for a month, and I transferred here for the third semester…and you know what happened after that. …That’s pretty much it.”

The blood drained from Kuroba’s face. It rubbed him the wrong way a little, wondering why he was making that face even though he wasn’t the one who had those things done to him. He understood, though. He’s got that kind of personality, so he sympathizes with me and feels sorry for me. But it actually hurt him to recognize anew that he had been through something that made him be pitied.

“…Haijima. After hearing your story, I have a feeling that you really shouldn’t go there… I think going back to a place like that would make you feel painful feelings again, and nothing good will come of it…”

“You’re the one who started it. You told me to go back to Tokyo right now.”

“Oh, that, well, that was more like tit for tat…”

“Take responsibility. I don’t need you to get cold feet. Because…I might be the one who’s getting cold feet.”

“…”

Kuroba kept stiflingly silent. The passengers sitting in the seats in front of them reclined their seats like they had arranged it beforehand, making it too cramped for them. Still silent, the two obediently bent their knees. The four knees in black pants tightly lined up before them.

A small vibration began sounding at the window. Kuroba’s phone, placed on the window frame, received another message. Kuroba took his phone and muttered, “Ah…it’s Itoko again.”

“Why don’t you just answer her?”

Haijima moved his legs aside to make room for him to leave, but Kuroba shook his head with an “Oh, no…” and pressed the power button on his phone. “It’s fine.”

Previous || Index || Next

[jazy3]

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 17X5

SPOILERS AHEAD!

I’m going to go right ahead and say it. This episode felt like a PSA to me, but it was well done. It was emotional and impactful and the storyline about Bailey’s Mom made me tear up, but at the same time the episode felt very stagnant and I feel like the lives of the other characters didn’t really move forward or go anywhere. It felt like they were all standing still. I liked the conversations between Jackson and Richard and Bailey and Maggie about how COVID has impacted black and brown people more than other races and how unfair that is and how politicians and decision makers need to pay more attention to that.

I loved the conversation between Bailey and Maggie. I liked that they addressed what happened with Maggie’s Mom because that storyline bothered the heck out of me. Maggie treated Meredith and everyone else horribly when all they did was try and help and then she forced her mother to undergo treatments she didn’t want because Maggie couldn’t handle the fact that she was dying and then they just dropped it. I’m glad to see that make a comeback and that Maggie has recognized that what she did and the way she behaved was wrong and is now using that experience to help others.

I loved their comments about guidance counsellors and others assume black people aren’t as bright or as capable as white folks and how insidious that is. It’s not something I’ve experienced myself as a white person, but I’m glad they’re highlighting it. This episode was written by Zoanne Clack who is a black woman and a former E.R. Physician. The previous episode was written by Julie Wong who is an Asian woman and I think it’s great they are utilizing the talent that they have so that people of colour can share their stories and their experiences on a global scale. 

By telling these stories through the lives of characters we know and love and can empathize with it allows people who will never have these experiences understand a little bit more. Representation is important and this show has always done a really good job in my opinion of highlighting important topics and social issues in a sensitive and thoughtful manner. These characters are fictional, but their stories are taken from the lives of real people and I think an important step in the process of creating a better fairer world is creating media that reflects people’s realities in order to cultivate empathy so that people who might not otherwise understand or get it have a window into that experience.

Maybe it changes their mind. Maybe it doesn’t. But the point is that it opens people’s minds to the possibility of seeing a side that they didn’t before and that is half the battle when trying to get people to understand someone else’s experience or point of view. I’m going to be seeing my family this holiday season virtually and in small groups from a safe distance. As is the case for many visiting with relatives over the holidays means having to listen to a lot of ignorant opinions, frustrating statements, and in some cases racial slurs and inappropriate remarks. 

So I’ve been thinking a lot about how I’m going to handle that this year because my tolerance for that crap has gone out the window. All this to say it’s nice to see good people fighting the good fight to get these stories out there to a global audience so that maybe some people will get it and maybe some good will come of it. And even if it doesn’t seeing characters and stories that represent you on screen is powerful and moving and wonderful and we all deserve that. I teared up watching Bailey suffer with the deterioration and death of her Mom.

The end scene where Bailey describes the patients she’s lost to COVID in the voice over while her and Richard sing ‘My Girl’ to give her Mom that moment of peace and a death with dignity got me. It really put a face on the disease. Watching her and her Dad struggle with it was so hard. I loved Bailey’s voice over where she shared info about the COVID patients she’d lost so far and who they were not just their disease. That was well done. Made me tear up.

I loved the talk between Meredith and Bailey at the hospital and on the beach. This episode wasn’t as shocking as the previous ones, but it was still good. I’m glad Meredith is getting better. I will miss the beach, but I’m excited to see her wake up, get better, and hopefully spend some time with Hayes. Which brings me to my chief complaint with this episode which is where the heck was Hayes?!?! This is the second episode he’s been absent from for no discernable reason and no explanation has been given as to where he is.

I did not sign up for this. A big part of the joy I felt when they announced that he was being upped to a main character was the implication that he was going to be given his own storylines and character development outside of Meredith and his relationships with Abigail, Liam, and Austin. But Hayes being absent when Meredith’s not awake robs of him that. Don’t get me wrong. I love Meredith and Hayes together and all I want is for them to be together and live happily ever after.

But, Hayes has such a rich and interesting backstory and there’s so much to explore there. Richard Flood who plays him brings such a wonderful depth to the character and he deserves to have his own story apart from Meredith and I really want to see him interact with the other characters more. We’ve seen him interact significantly with Jo and Bailey, but I’d love to see him interact with Maggie, Amelia, Jackson, and Owen more. His absence this episode reminds me of the episode after the Conference Episode last season where he was suddenly missing for no reason and they didn’t explain where he was.

I’m confused because he was upped to a main character just before this season started so he should be in every episode or almost every episode like the other characters are. I’m starting to get concerned that the actor who plays him has fallen ill or tested positive for COVID-19 or that he’s dealing with some kind of family emergency and so they had to cut him out of the episode last minute. I hope I’m wrong, but I honestly can’t think of another reason the actor would be missing for upwards of 2 to 4 weeks when these episodes were filmed.

I can’t see his absence being a story choice because it doesn’t make any sense and they haven’t addressed it on screen as they usually do when an actor has departed or needs time off and they have time to write that in. He also doesn't appear to be in the promo for next week’s episode which is strange considering it shows another meeting being held by Richard where some of the other department heads can be seen and we get shots of most of the other characters. After the Premiere aired he appeared in the promo for Episode 3 standing outside Meredith’s window and in that episode we saw them have a heart to heart that I thought was really beautiful and lovely.

At this point it’s unclear if Meredith even knows that Hayes is the one that found her and got her help and is distraught over her condition. He’s the head of Peds which is a pretty important department. Where the heck is he? They can gladly write off other characters in the second half of the season to give him more screen time in my opinion. I really hope the actor and his family are okay.  I’d also hate for his sudden absence to wreck Meredith’s storyline.

I love their friendship and flirtations and I’d hate to see her wind up alone or with someone that clearly isn’t right for her and that she doesn’t really love because something unexpected happened with the actor. I really really hope he’s in the mid-season finale next week! Jo suddenly declaring that she wants to quit general surgery to become an OBGYN came out of nowhere and makes no sense to me.

She spent years being with and then married to the Head of Pediatric Surgery and was decidedly lukewarm on the idea of having kids or even being near them. So her and Alex split and in the wake of that she randomly decides she wants to be an OBGYN and deliver babies? What the heck? I’m also confused because I feel like Hayes should have been there because it was a Peds case and he wasn’t and if Jo wants to re-specialize it would make sense for her to talk to Carina or Hayes.

Carina’s a main character on Station 19 and is still reoccurring on Grey’s so she can talk to her for an episode or two, but anymore than that and I think that would fall under Hayes perview because he’s a main character. But he’s currently MIA and we don’t know why. I did love Jo’s scenes with Levi though. They’re always hilarious and I think they bounce off of each other really well. I’m glad that Tom improved and apparently isn’t dying.

I like him with Teddy and I hope they get back together at some point. I’m glad they are choosing to be friends again. More than anything I want Teddy to pick a lane here. Owen or Tom. Pick one and go with it. Stop flip flopping all over the place like a fish out of water. Teddy’s a hot mess these days. I liked Amelia’s speech to Teddy. She has feelings about what Teddy did and didn’t do, but as she says she herself has done horrible things, some of them involving Owen, so she’s not in any place to judge, but she also doesn’t want to be friends with Teddy or really talk to her. And that’s fair. I have to say I love Amelia post-tumour. She’s great.

Also what happened to Casey Parker the resident from last season who was transgender and former military? I really liked him! Where did he go? I’d much rather see him that DeLuca or Nico on screen. Based on what I caught of next week’s promo it looks the COVID situation at Grey Sloan is about to get worse. We see Richard addressing staff in the cafeteria saying that they need to prepare for a surge of patients and that their patient load could double. We’re in May in the current Grey’s timeline so that fits.

It’s apparently also a cross over. I don’t want another cross over. I want to know where the hell Hayes is! And it looks like Amelia is back in the OR and the doctors are treating two teenagers who were kidnapped and held captive. Yikes! And we see Meredith smiling at someone on the beach before suddenly waking up. My guess is that it’s Derek and we are finally going to get to see them embrace and then Meredith is going to return to the land of the living. And hopefully interact with Hayes.

Until next time!

[danddymaro]

Bucky Barnes x Reader |Pt.5

Word Count: 2119   | Part 3: Rising

Very short chapter.

Previous part : Content

Rising

“Sometimes I wonder what my place is in this world.” She said out loud, 

“And it’s always amazing to think that there are people that idolize me,” She added with amusement, thinking fondly of all the people that have stopped her, the most treasured moments being those with children.

‘ From an outsider’s perspective...I guess I have everything figured out,’ She mused, ‘And it makes it worse because I’m just one big lie,’ She went on.

 "- Because the truth is, I don't know what I'm really doing with myself. And it feels like, at this point...I should already have everything figured out." She said while staring down at her palms, pondering over just what their purpose was.

“ Oftentimes, I want to find what that reason is,” (f/n) spoke, “ I have the interest to change, but, just as I feel that way I cave. And then, I just go on with what’s given to me. “ She admitted.

“ And it’s so contradicting... to want so much, yet, be this compliant.” She voiced out, blowing out a soft, lukewarm chuckle.

'I'm pathetic,' She thought to herself, ‘Am I just not trying enough?’ She then wondered.

“I want to be so much stronger.” She said while looking up, (e/c) colored eyes full of certainty while the (dark/light) orbs finally found their way to his.

 “I want to be much more...just like you,” She said while looking straight at the man, wanting to match his every step, but knowing fully well that she lacked plenty to do so. 

“But...I know it’s impossible,” She admitted, aware that if she had a tail it’d be tucked in between her legs, hiding in misery as she admitted her deepest insecurity to him,

‘How can I Overcome being Human? ' She wondered, her certainty quickly dying out, vanishing with a low, azure breath.

'Is this all I’m meant to be?

Is this my limitation?’ She continued to ponder.

"I just can't do it..." She admitted, her voice sounding soft and strained as she uttered the words.

Quiet silence filled the spaces in between, and just when she was growing accustomed to the quiet, he spoke, 

“ Is this your way of throwing in the towel? ” He then asked her, his gloved index giving her chin a quick nudge up, the loving bump up forcing her to look at him.

"Huh?" He added, “Is this your way of saying goodbye?” He proceeded to asked her, shaking his head all the while, seeming disappointed, though, throughout it all, offering her a faint smile. 

Stunned at the question, she stayed quietly still, her only action being the deep, harsh swallow she executed.

“If so, then you could at least look at me,” He mused, his soft smile inching up more, the very action forcing a shaky breath from her, because until then, she'd avoided actually gazing into his eyes.

‘Do I have a choice?’ She idly wondered, ‘Can I fight it?’ 

‘ Or...Is this goodbye?’ She continued to wonder, a sharp pain suddenly striking her, forcing her to step back, distancing herself from the man. 

Stumbling, she nearly fell before doubling over.

At that, he took a step to her, following her while she found her distance, soon continuing at the same pace she drew back. 

She felt as though her body were being split in two, and helplessly, she wrapped her arms around herself as though attempting to hold her two halves into one, all while he watched, his blue eyes observing her.

“- I believe in you.” He said with certainty. “So don’t tell me you’re done, “ he went on, watching as she crumpled, her body withering in pain. 

"You've held on this long," He informed her, " - It's not just luck," Steve apprised her.

"Come on," he encouraged her, his hand held out to her. 

“Just come towards me,” He enthused, baiting her like a man would a beast, all with a promise in his palm, 

"(f/n),” He called out to her. 

“(f/n)….” he went on, his voice sounding faint whilst she stopped, her (e/c) colored eyes tightly closed as she grimaced, a blaring alarm ringing, the obnoxious sound bouncing within her pounding brain,  overpowering the sound of his calls.

Blindly, she reached out, her arm stretched as far as it could go, waving left and right to try and take hold of his hand.

‘I’m trying,’ She swore. ‘This time...I’m really trying,’ She went on, with stumbled steps she hobbled forward, walking towards the warmth that led her towards a bright path.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A deafening, strangled cry made blue eyes go wide, the blood-curdling noise causing the light hairs that were on the back of his neck to all stand, pointed out with alarm.

His head rose from its hanged state, and during then, his eyes lingered in awe, softly breathing the woman's name in a dazed fashion that perfectly mirrored his every bit of astonishment.

Stilled, he watched as right before him, she had awoken with a start, not knowing where she was, the first recollection she had being that of the vicious encounter in the wilderness whilst held at the mercy of a cornered beast.

The howl that had been silenced during that period finally found its way out, bouncing off of the white walls with alarm, no longer restricted.

She rose, her upper body lifting off from the mattress, and soon after she found herself sitting, her hands instantly flying towards her gaping mouth.

Again, the bitter taste filled her tongue, dancing over her miserable buds before powerful coughs that were mighty enough to rake her entire body overwhelmed her.

Scarlet dripped from her parted lips, splattering out like the flowing waters of a sprinkler in its moderate setting, creating a scandalous mess that painted her surrounding with the barbaric tint.

The falling liquid stained the white bedsheets, and the distant grey-colored gown alike, leaving traces of its fierce brilliance behind. 

Everything in its path lay colored with red, dripping from her paled lips and landing in small splotches that were similar to red azalea’s scattered over the white snow.

The monitor beside her began to pick up with life again, beeping wildly to keep up with her racing heart, roaring loudly with its digital sound throughout the previously silent room with its own form of excitement.

Greedily, she swallowed up masses of air, gasping like a drowning person in panic.

Her (e/c) eyes briefly skimmed around the room, the wet (e/c) colored orbs soon catching sight of the two men there with her, as they too stared at her wide-eyed, gobsmacked by the occurrence.

Dark chocolate drops and crystalline gems met with her own (e/c) orbs for only a split second before she succumbed to darkness once more.

The sudden sluggishness hit her with an unexpected sucker punch that overwhelmed her, whilst at that very moment, a searing fire ran across the length of her abdomen in a crude, jagged line.

Her head soon collided with the softness of the cushioned pillow, as she came crashing back down, falling like an anvil from a skyscraper.

'Again...' She thought to herself, drowsily taking in the sensation of pain before welcoming the sweet warmth that coddled her afterward.

‘But it feels different,‘ Accepting the comforting lull into darkness.

As she felt herself drift off, she felt a soft heat consume her again just as it had before during the same moment that the sun had so kindly coaxed her from the path of darkness.

The hot pain she felt was subdued to soft tingles before she was welcomed by a tranquil silence that felt welcoming and kind, and more like a new beginning rather than a bitter end.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When he had heard the monitor stop, he held in his breath, the man too afraid to look at the thin, red line that was drawn across the screen, because he knew that once he caught sight of the sign, there was no hope left.

There would be no measly bit of faith to hold on to, leaving the unconscious woman to become a memory, one with a final sweet expression that would forever haunt him for failing her.

He had been hesitant to look at her still body, unwilling to accept that she actually laid there without the same life she had been bursting with before only hours prior.

After the blaring sound, all he'd heard was silence, an unbearable quiet he wished was full of her voice instead, all until the monitor decided to fret, its sound masked by another cry.

- And it absolutely stunned him.

Steve Rogers couldn't believe it, because, before him, just a few feet away was the woman he had thought to have lost, now budding with new life.

“How..?” He breathed, an enormous smile spreading onto his previously grief-stricken face as he, too, swallowed up globs of air.

It was a mystery he didn't even care to get explanations for because he would be satisfied the rest of his life to simply know that she was now well, brought back to him by whatever strange force that decided to work its wonder.

'You're back...' He thought with a wash of relief.

Sam had been at his side, his hand suspended in the air before he became startled by the sudden revival, all to a point he was motionless with stun.

He was the first to move, soon standing at the woman's side, gazing at her with astonished, dark eyes.

Throughout his life, he'd been witness to many things, exposed to many scenarios no common person could ever even fathom, yet, what had occurred that day was the most staggering up to date.

It was nothing short of a miracle, because as he inspected her sleeping face, he stood stunned, finding amazement in what was happening before his own eyes.

He began signaling Rogers with vigorous hand movements, all so he would find a place at his side and watch the phenomenon.

Entranced, they watched as the bluish marks marrying her body faded, taking with them every speck of imperfection that had been there after the mission. they disappeared, vanishing without a trace of evidence that was proof of her struggle.

“I don’t know how she did it,” Sam started, all while shaking his head down at his sleeping friend, “But she actually managed to cheat death,” he said while beginning to smile broadly, a swell of pride striking him.

‘That’s it,’ Wilson thought to himself, cheering her on.

The blonde couldn't even begin to define the joy he felt, feeling the weight of his heavy heart grow light with his friend’s words,

“ She sure did,” he responded back, hanging his head tiredly as a weary chuckle escaped him, one that soon morphed into true, joyous laughter.

Sam gave him a side glance, watching as the taller male covered the upper portion of his face, shielding his slightly glossed eyes as he laughed alongside him.

There was nothing to fear, nothing to shed sorrows for, and even then, he couldn't help but let the faint trace of misery escape him.

‘You were so close...You were right there.’ He thought to himself, grateful she’d found her way back to them.

“Got a tear in your eye there captain?” Sam said smiling, the teasing tone that made Steve snicker.

‘Leave it to Sam…’ He thought with an eye roll, shaking his head at the playful remark.

“ Nah...” he breathed, “ It’s just a little something... you know from dusting you every morning for the past 2 years.” The blonde responded, giving the darker-skinned man a sympathetic pat to the back before turning to the exit.

He was quick to run his forearm over his eyes, doing away with the threatening tears, deciding to leave with a present smile instead, one that held more meaning as Wilson stayed behind, all while at a loss for words.

Sam then rolled his own eyes, his mouth hanging open at the rather smooth reply, surprised at the ease it left the super-soldier.

He half shrugged, nodding, “ Ok, maybe I had that coming.” He said while chuckling, not bothered in the least bit by the jab.

“Good one,” he complimented.

“- Come on Sam, I'm sure all she needs is some sleep,” Steve said while staring over to the steady breathing girl, trusting her to pull through.

With a silent nod, the other male agreed, following in suit.

Both men walked out, certain their friend would be only hours away from being the same joy she’d been before.

All she needed was a little rest, just some shut-eye and she’d be up running alongside them again.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Next Part : 

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight - Chapter 6: Next

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~5500

Rating: PG-13 (rare language)

Summary: Eighteen hours since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: Sorry again for the delay on this one! I know PB has basically turned the laws of Cordonia into whatever they need them to be for plot reasons, but that’s not sufficient for me, so I am trying to construct some sort of framework based on what we know from TRM, ROE, and TRR/TRH. We’ll see how it goes...

This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

“Riley… Hey, Riley.”

Riley’s eyes fluttered open as she felt a hand on her shoulder and heard Drake whispering her name, tugging her awake. It took her a few seconds to place herself as she glanced around the room. She reached for the nightstand with a fumbling hand before she remembered she didn’t have her glasses. She squinted at Drake. Thankfully, he’d crouched down in front of her, so he was at least in focus, even if the rest of the hotel room was a giant blur. 

“Is everything okay?”

Drake nodded, running a hand over his chin. He was already showered, shaved, and dressed in a grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans. “I am going to go to the bakery across the street and see if any of the locals can point me towards a cheap, used car dealership.”

“Okay. I don’t think I’m going to be much help.” She’d always meant to learn Greek since moving to Cordonia, but she’d only ever gotten around to learning a handful of words. After all, official court business was always conducted in English, and most of the citizens of Valtoria were bilingual, so there had never really been a need. Until now apparently. It’s not that no one in Ioannina spoke English, but it wasn’t as common as she was used to. Even last night, she’d been utterly dependent on Drake to discuss what they needed in a hotel room with the man at the front desk.

“Yeah, that’s why I thought you might want to just stay here with Bridget.” At his statement, they both instinctively looked down at their daughter, still sleeping soundly along Riley’s side. Riley knew it wasn’t ideal that they decided to let her sleep in the same bed with them last night, but they didn’t really have any other options when the hotel employee told Drake there were no cribs available. And truth be told, Riley hadn’t wanted to let Bridget leave her side. Things were still too raw, too fresh.

“You don’t want me to come along?” 

Drake shook his head slowly as he gently placed a hand on Bridget’s head. “I just figured it might be nice for her to be able to crawl and play and all that. Try and make things a little more normal for her, I guess.”

He did have a point. Normally, Bridget was able to crawl around and explore while they were taking meetings at Valtoria. Even on days where they had to go to the palace, one of them usually stuck with Bridget in her room there while the other handled all the official business. And Bridget was definitely at an age where she wanted to move about her environment. She didn’t like being restrained for too long.

“Okay. So you’re just going to get us a car then?”

He paused for a moment. “I think we need more than a car, Riley. I’m gonna try and find somewhere that sells outdoor supplies and camping gear. Plus a travel crib and a car seat for her. Maybe some toys, too.”

“You think we’re going to have to camp out to stay safe?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “I would rather have a tent and some sleeping bags and not need them than have to panic and hide out with nothing.”

She swallowed roughly before she responded, staring down at their daughter, still passed out and oblivious to everything that had transpired in the past day. “How bad do you think things are going to get for us, Drake?”

He didn’t answer her right away, so after a few seconds she looked up and found him staring at her intently. “I have no idea. This will probably all just be a wild story if Liam keeps his title, but if Barthelemy succeeds… fuck, Riley. Every law enforcement agent in the EU will have the right to arrest us for kidnapping and send us back.”

“This is insanity. She’s our kid. Why would other countries recognize us traveling with her as a kidnapping?”

There was another pause as Drake glanced down, staring at the floor. “Because she’s Cordonia’s kid before she’s our kid. And kidnapping is one of the crimes that doesn’t require criminality verification in the arresting country under a European Arrest Warrant.” She just stared at him, wondering why this was yet another piece of random trivia he knew. As if he could read her thoughts, he glanced up and continued, “I did some research when I couldn’t sleep last night.” 

“So another country would really just send us back for taking her out of Cordonia?”

“She’s legally Cordonia’s child.”

Riley sighed, trying to keep tears of frustration from forming. She’d cried enough yesterday, she didn’t need Drake thinking she wasn’t up to this again. But it just was a shitty situation. One they never should have been in at all.

“It’s not right, Drake.”

“No, it’s not. But it’s a little late to change that fact now.”

A wave of guilt washed over Riley as his words hung in the air. She could have put a stop to this bullshit long ago. She should have put a stop to it. And now everything was teetering on the edge of disaster. But she had to get a grip. She was not going to be an emotional mess today. So she took one last deep breath before responding to Drake.

“I think your plan makes sense. Can you stay with her while I get cleaned up before you go?”

Drake frowned just slightly, clearly wondering about the slight redirection of their conversation, but he nodded slowly, scooping up Bridget laying her across his chest as he settled down on top of the covers while Riley dug through the bag of clothing, trying to find something to wear.

As she showered, the lukewarm-at-best water pelting over her hair and skin, she tried to keep her thoughts from spiraling. Things were bad, but they could have been worse. They were together. They were able to withdraw money yesterday, so their accounts weren’t frozen yet. And they had some of their basic needs covered, thanks to Ray.

Ray had bought them several changes of clothing, some basic toiletries, more diapers and formula, and a few days of food before returning to Cordonia. He hadn’t let them pay for any of it, which was far too kind considering they’d lied to him and possibly made him an accessory to kidnapping. But he’d remained helpful and unfazed when they’d confessed that Lythikos was supposed to be their destination, not Greece. And he’d gotten them fairly well set up before he got back in the town car to return to Cordonia, a much appreciated kindness.

She wondered how things had gone when he spoke to Olivia, how pissed off she was about it all. Olivia hadn’t called them since they told her they were committed to staying away from Cordonia, so Riley had no idea how she was handling everything or how the hearing went. Hana had called again last night. She was alone at their home, trying to pack up a few of their personal belongings in hopes of getting them to them at some point if needed. She’d been kind and gentle, asking if there were certain items of clothing or specific toys that should be a priority. Riley didn’t know how Hana intended to get those belongings to them, but it was a sweet gesture. Even though she knew Hana wished they’d stayed in Cordonia, she felt grateful that her friend was trying to help them, even if she disagreed with Riley’s actions.

So there were some silver linings. But overall, things felt overwhelming and out of control. Riley had known somewhere in her mind that things were going to be horrible and stressful and mad difficult when she’d decided to get Bridget out of Cordonia as quickly as possible yesterday. But after a little sleep - admittedly very little given how upset she was about everything - things felt like they could quickly become insurmountable. 

But she just couldn’t bring herself to head back for Cordonia. No matter how many worries she had about how the three of them were going to get through things going forward, there was a better chance of them being together through it all outside that country, and she just felt safer, knowing there would at least be more difficulties for Barthelemy and any of his posse to get their hands on her daughter. Nothing about Cordonia was safe. And while she wished she’d been able to recognize that earlier, she couldn’t go back now. Not when it finally felt like her eyes were open. 

Stepping out of the shower, she quickly dressed and ran a comb through her hair, brushing her teeth and popping in her contacts before leaving the bathroom. She heard Bridget’s giggles and babbles right away. Turning into the main part of the small hotel room, she saw Drake sitting on the edge of the bed, bouncing Bridget on his knees as he held her in a standing position. She loved being stood upright like that, and it seemed like she’d be pulling up to stand on her own any day now.

When Drake saw Riley, he scooped Bridget into his arms and scooted off the bed. “She only woke up about 10 minutes ago. I can feed her before I head out if you want.”

“No, I’ve got it,” Riley said with a little shake of her head, taking Bridget as she got out a bottle, the formula, and a bottle of water. She was a bit surprised to see Drake digging through the diaper bag, pulling out all the money they’d managed to withdraw from their accounts yesterday. They’d both hemmed and hawed about pulling funds from the accounts tied to Valtoria, but eventually decided on doing it. After all, compared to kidnapping and treason, embezzlement charges were really just a drop in the ocean.

“You’re taking all the cash?”

“We haven’t heard from Olivia or Hana since last evening. Either things are still in progress, or they can’t safely get in touch with us. If it’s the latter, our accounts might be frozen now. I need to be prepared.”

Riley didn’t like the thought of being left without any money, even if she knew Drake was right. It left her feeling vulnerable, or rather even more vulnerable. She couldn’t help it, and a small, shaky little sigh escaped.

Drake pivoted to look at her, his eyes intense. “I’m trusting you not to take off with my kid while I’m gone. It seems like the least you could do is trust me not to take off with the money.”

There was just a hint of bitterness in his voice, but mostly he just sounded tired. Riley knew she was being callous with him. It was just hard to not let all her fears and worries spill over into everything she did and said at this point.

“You’re right; I’m sorry,” she said as she shook up the bottle of formula.

Drake let out a sigh, tucked the money in his wallet, and dropped a kiss on both her and Bridget’s foreheads. “Hopefully, I’ll be back in a few hours. Call if you need me, okay?”

She nodded and gave him a small little smile, but then he was off, hopefully to pull more cash and to get them some transportation. It was just her and Bridget, and even though that was her initial plan yesterday, it felt very lonely at the moment.

“Oh, Peanut. Mama has turned Daddy into a fugitive,” she cooed, giving Bridget the bottle. Figuring she should probably put this time to good use, she grabbed her phone quickly while Bridget actually had a good grasp on the bottle and sat down on the end of the bed, pulling up “How to run from law enforcement” as a search. At this point, they were going to be able to trace their ATM withdrawals anyway. If they somehow got ahold of her digital records from this phone, well, this search wouldn’t tell them anything they didn’t already know. Better to be at least a little prepared when Drake got back and they had to plan their next steps.

After reading for a few minutes, Riley swiped open her contacts list and tapped Drake’s name at the top of her favorites list. He answered almost instantly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, we’re fine. I just have something else you should buy.”

“What?”

“Burner phones.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was almost like deja vu, sitting in the same seat in the same courtroom as once again everyone rose to their feet except Barthelemy and himself. This time, Liam knew that staying seated would probably not be an option when the justice left the courtroom. He probably should have risen now, to be honest. The no-confidence vote that happened this morning was almost certainly going to stand. But Liam wasn’t ready to look defeated. He would wait until this hearing concluded before deferring and recognizing that anyone else might hold the power of the crown. 

The parties present today were almost identical to last night, with the addition of Hakim and Kiara on Barthelemy’s side and Hana on his. Normally, a different High Court justice would have been assigned since High Justice Questa had literally just ruled on an emergency hearing, but given that the same parties were named, she had volunteered to see this through. The usher waited until she sat down before once again announcing that all parties had been sworn in. As soon as he was finished, the justice looked from desk to desk, annoyance clearly written all over her face. It wasn’t surprising, but it didn’t bode well for either legal team. 

“Not even 24 hours later, gentlemen? You really are determined to not let me have my weekend, aren’t you?” High Justice Questa said with a sigh and a shake of her head. “Did we manage to actually legally call the Conventus Nobilis today? It looks like it was all in order based on this documentation from both parties,” she said as she flipped through stacks of paper, “a no-confidence vote that passed with a margin of three to two and installed the patriarch of House Beaumont as king-regent, so I’m not sure what your case is, Mr. Rys.”

Liam fought to keep his face steady. He’d been expecting it, mentally preparing for it, but hearing his surname used instead of his title, a surname that he almost never had needed in his life still burned inside him, a deep pain and sense of failure, both on a personal and public level.

“Your Honor, my client is not challenging the loss of his power. He is now acting as a concerned citizen who believes that the transfer of power to the defendant was illegally performed,” Diana stated calmly as she rose and leaned in to the microphone.

“A concerned citizen? Right, I’m sure that’s his only motivation. Regardless, the brief you submitted is compelling. There obviously isn’t a large amount of precedent for me to base my decision on, so I am going to carefully listen to oral arguments to supplement and clarify the briefs both parties submitted. Additionally, depending on the intricacies of how different historical and modern laws intersect with this… unusual combination of circumstances, I may just offer a provisional ruling with a formal hearing scheduled in front of the full High Court as soon as possible if I feel this is too complex and unprecedented to be decided by just myself. Do both parties understand?”

Both Diana and Charles acknowledged her statement, then Diana delved into her arguments.

“Your Honor, if a reigning monarch is removed from the throne, the law clearly states that next in line for the throne should assume a role of king- or queen-regent until a Conclave can be held, at which time the major noble houses will determine the new royal line. Additionally, Cordonian law states that any direct heirs to the throne who have not come of age should have at least two regents recorded in case of their ascension to the throne before they reach adulthood. Given that these two laws are clear, I do not believe that the results of the Conventus Nobilis vote can legally do any more than remove my client from power. The major houses do not have the power to name anyone they’d like as regent.

“Bridget Walker is the clear queen-regent at this point, Your Honor, and the documentation submitted with her anointing named the Duchess and Duke of Valtoria as her regents. Therefore, it is our contention that one of them should serve as regent until a Conclave can legally occur. It seems like the most logical conclusion from the laws on file.”

“The issue, Diana, is that both the Duchess and Duke of Valtoria were named in the no-confidence vote as well. At least, that’s what I assume you are going to tell me, Charles,” High Justice Questa said as she turned slightly in her chair to face the defense desk.

“Indeed, Your Honor. The results of that vote clearly indicate that the majority of the major noble houses fear for our country’s well-being and prosperity if either of the Walkers are allowed to serve this country as regent. My client has graciously offered to step into that role, seeing as the Duchess of Valtoria was sponsored by House Beaumont and is therefore an honorary member.”

“Your issue, Charles, is that your client can’t legally do that,” High Justice Questa added, tilting her head and raising her eyebrows. The fact that she was tearing through Barthelemy’s team’s arguments just as quickly as she had their own was a small reassurance. 

“He may have offered his services, but the majority of the noble houses support his regency as well.”

“Yes, but they don’t have that power either. They only get to name a new monarch, acting or otherwise, during a Conclave. And the vote today was not a Conclave, was it Charles?”

“No, Your Honor. A Conclave has to occur at the end of a Social Season.”

“Exactly. The regents for an heir who is too young to rule are decided by the reigning monarch at the time of the heir’s anointment, not by anyone else. In this case, since our new Queen-Regent was not born into the royal bloodline, but established in her position via Royal Decree, it is a noted precedent to allow the child’s parents to have a say in who is named as his or her regents. Why your client has decided he can just sidestep all of that is concerning. He’s claimed the power of the law for himself while being ignorant of our country’s laws at best, or with a willful disregard for them at worst. And quite frankly, the fact that the actual head of House Beaumont, his elder son, voted against him is not exactly a ringing endorsement.”

“Your Honor, someone needs to act as Queen-Regent Bridget’s regent!”

“Indeed, but not your client. The High Court does not recognize Lord Beaumont as acting regent at this time. Now, Diana,” High Justice Questa continued, not missing a beat, “your client was the reigning monarch at the time of Queen-Regent Bridget’s anointing. I see in your briefs that he has offered up two alternative regents for Queen-Regent Bridget - Lady Hana Lee or Lord Maxwell Beaumont.”

This had been part of their strategy, devised wearily sometime after 2 am and numerous cups of coffee. Since it was unlikely that the no-confidence vote was going to go their way, Diana had suggested naming alternate regents for Bridget, ones that would both be more sympathetic to his cause and that would be believable as alternate choices from Drake and Riley. Picking Hana and Maxwell had been the obvious choice.

“Your Honor!” Charles called out upon hearing those names, but he immediately quieted and sat back down when High Justice Questa raised her hand. She nodded at Diana, indicating she should continue in spite of the outburst from the opposing legal team.

“Yes, Your Honor. They are Queen-Regent Bridget’s godparents, indicating that the Duchess and Duke of Valtoria would have approved of either of them for this role, and my client is in total agreement.”

The justice didn’t respond immediately, but started flipping through a briefing, skimming a section when she arrived at the part she clearly wanted to discuss. Liam knew this was going to be their largest issue. They’d attempted to word the briefing carefully, not making it immediately apparent that Drake and Riley hadn’t actually been involved with the decision to name Hana and Maxwell up as alternative regents. But Questa was quick, and she had a great mind for details. The fact that this was the point in the hearing that she was explicitly referencing the text did not bode well for them.

“Diana, I’m looking at your wording here, where you mention your client’s reasoning for naming those two as possibilities for this role. Neither in your statement just now nor in this document do you ever quote the Walkers to indicate their approval. Is there a reason for this?”

Diana tried to be subtle, but Liam noticed her taking a deep breath before she responded, “Your Honor, we didn’t have a chance to speak to them directly. However, their-”

“I’m going to stop you right there. You didn’t have a chance to talk to them? Really?” Whatever scorn Questa held for Barthelemy, Liam felt it directed his way now, but at least doubled or tripled. She’d seen right through their little bluff.

“Everything has been so rushed, Your Honor,” Diana tried to justify, but Liam knew there was no salvaging this situation at this point.

“It seems like talking to the Duchess and Duke of Valtoria should have been high on your priority list to me. Common sense would indicate that if your argument was that those two individuals, in addition to your client, are responsible for naming a regent, actually getting them to name a regent would be pretty important to your case. So tell me, why haven’t you spoken to them regarding this matter? In fact, why aren’t they here in person? Last night I figured they had already put their daughter to sleep and were reluctant to leave her, but it’s-” she glanced quickly at her watch “-not even 5 pm. This seems like an important hearing for their family.”

“I haven’t been able to get in touch with them, Your Honor.”

High Justice Questa’s shoulders sagged slightly before she asked the question Liam was dreading. “Does your client even know their location at this time?”

Diana leaned over to him and whispered, “How do you want to play this, sir?”

He’d pulled Diana aside last night and informed her that Drake, Riley, and Bridget had likely fled the country, and that he had been choosing to stay ignorant of any information that would confirm that fact. She’d encouraged him to report his suspicions officially right then, insisting that he was her client, not them, but Liam didn’t feel throwing them to the wolves was the correct call.  He was frustrated and personally hurt, but he knew there was no malice behind their actions. Besides, it wasn’t likely to improve his situation. So, he’d insisted on sticking to his technical ignorance then, and he had no intention of deviating from that plan now.

“As we discussed, Diana”

With a little nod, she returned to her microphone. “He believes that they headed to Lythikos at the invitation of Duchess Nevrakis for some privacy, but he hasn’t spoken to them since they were on the road.”

Questa’s reaction was immediate, her eyes closing and a hand rubbing roughly over them. She looked completely done with the actions of everyone in the room. Liam honestly couldn’t blame her. He was well aware that from an outside perspective, both he and Barthelemy looked like bumbling fools at the moment. On the other side of the courtroom, Liam noticed significant whispering and chatter. Clearly, Barthelemy’s camp was speculating on what that statement meant. 

“Well, you all have decided to make this as messy as possible, haven’t you?” High Justice Questa mused to the room, interrupting all the side conversations. “Alright, this is what we’re going to do. I’m calling a recess until tomorrow at 9 am to allow the prosecution time to produce the Walkers. No statements, no hearsay, no speculation, they will be here in my court. If they are not present, sanctions will be issued, and the standing of their house and titles will be subject to review.

“As for the matter of Queen-Regent Bridget’s regent, that will be decided with or without their input at that time. If they are not produced, Mr. Rys will make the determination on his own. However, I would urge Mr. Rys to reconsider his choices for that role, because based on the reaction to the names you provided from the defense desk, I envision yet another summoning of the Conventus Nobilis if either of them get installed as regent. And if you think I’m impatient now, you do not want to see me if I am forced to preside over another emergency hearing.”

She paused for a moment, giving both desks intense, meaningful stares before continuing to issue her decision. 

“Now, as we are currently left with no clear agent to act as monarch, I will defer to several old Cordonian statutes. First, a king or queen who is too young to rule will be overseen by a regent who is the next in line for the throne over the age of majority, unless otherwise specified. Given that the Walkers are not eligible anymore due to the vote of no confidence, we will proceed through succession. Seeing as Mr. Rys is the last in his family line and our new queen-regent obviously has no heirs, based on the foundational statutes, Cordonia would revert to Nevrakis rule. Good news is the head of House Nevrakis is here and now knows she’s Queen-Regent for the next handful of hours. This is a provisional appointment only, as it is customary to allow a few days to establish a regency, and a new regent is set to be named tomorrow, so the powers of the monarch will only be enacted in emergency situations. Is that clear?” she asked, staring past Liam to where Oliva was seated.

“Yes, Your Honor.” Liam heard Olivia say from behind him, loud and clear even without a microphone. Olivia gaining power was an obvious victory today, but only a temporary one. If they attempted to leave her in power, Barthelmey would undoubtedly call for another vote from the Conventus Nobilis.

Upon hearing her response, Questa turned slightly towards the defense desk. Barthelemy was clearly fuming, but she continued speaking before that legal team could get a word out. “And before you get all outraged, Charles, I would encourage you to use this as motivation to urge your client to strongly consider letting the regent presented tomorrow stand instead of challenging yet another leader. Because the longer it takes for these two parties to reach an agreement, the longer she-” High Justice Questa said as she gestured to Olivia “-retains provisional powers of the monarch, something I’m guessing your client does not desire. Is everyone clear of my expectations?”

Murmurs of assent came from both desks, following which Questa gave a curt nod and tapped her gavel, bringing the hearing to a close for the day. Liam rose to watch her leave. He had now officially lost the right to stay seated. Oddly, he felt almost numb about that fact. There were so many other things happening that required his attention. 

He was expected to bring Drake and Riley to court tomorrow, and he was fairly certain that would not be a task that was possible for him to complete. This meant he needed to find another possible regent, one that Barthelemy and his allies would not attempt to remove from the throne but who would also be unlikely to bend to Barthelemy’s whims and schemes. Realistically, he needed to figure out Barthelemy’s endgame here. It would help him better plan for his next steps, including a bid to retake the throne at the Conclave, and if he was lucky, in the short term, it might even help him determine someone to suggest as regent who would be willing to show leniency to Drake and Riley. Allow him the chance to convince them to return to Cordonia, although the fact that Bridget was now the queen-regent did complicate matters more.

He saw Barthelemy approaching him, but Diana stopped him. “I’m sorry, but since this hearing is still pending, I’ve advised my client to not speak to you directly at this time.”

He let out a little huff, but went to rejoin his lawyers, allowing Liam to turn to Olivia, Hana, Maxwell, and Bertrand, all huddled in a little cluster behind him. 

“How are you, Liam?” Hana asked, patting his shoulder gently with her hand, her eyes full of concern and worry.

“It is all a lot to process at the moment, but today could have gone worse, I suppose,” Liam responded, trying to keep his voice calm. Any emotional response on his part needed to wait until they were someplace private. “I guess we need to find a place to reconvene now that the palace is no longer an option.”

Olivia frowned, “Who says it’s not an option? If I’m the provisional regent, I think we can easily return for tonight.”

“Are the optics of that wise? I wouldn’t want it to look like you were abusing the temporary powers Questa granted you.”

She just shrugged. “I honestly don’t care. They can’t touch me in any way that matters, and it’s not like I’ll be making a bid during the Conclave since I’ll be sponsoring you.”

Her nonchalant statement gave Liam pause. Although the Rys lineage could be traced back for hundreds of years, House Rys wasn’t one of the five major houses and therefore could not put up a candidate. He hoped she was comfortable with that offer and didn’t resent him for taking away her chance to be queen. The tone of her voice was just so matter-of-fact and resigned, and it made Liam wonder. But for now, he needed to focus on the short term, not the long term.

“I suppose it might be nice to clean out my office,” he said, soft enough that he was sure no one but the people right next to him could hear. The last thing he needed was Barthelemy to somehow get his hands on all sorts of official documents and start combing through them.

Olivia gave him a crisp nod of agreement before spinning to face Maxwell and Bertrand. “Alright you two - Ramsford first. Bertrand, repeat after me, ‘Documents detailing my father’s incompetence are more important than heirloom cutlery.’”

“Lady Olivia, I hardly-”

“It’s now ‘Your Regency, Bertrand,” she said, throwing in a little wink and chuckle as Bertrand started to sputter out apologies. “Seriously though. Maxwell, you need to keep him focused. Preventing your father from gaining control of House Beaumont is imperative.

“After you’re done at Ramsford, head to Lythikos. Now, Maxwell, repeat after me. ‘Literally anything I want to touch will probably maim or kill me, so I will touch nothing but my pillow.’ Bertrand, I’m counting on you from stopping him from causing serious bodily harm to himself or others.”

After the brothers expressed their agreement and left the courtroom, Liam noticed Olivia and Hana shooting glances towards each other. There was no one left in the room but Diana and the junior attorney with her today, Nicolas, so whatever they were silently communicating must be something that they wanted to keep from the legal team.

“Diana, Nicolas, we are meeting back at the palace. We can probably use the monarch’s office for tonight. But starting tomorrow, we will likely be relocating-” he glanced at Olivia, who nodded deeply “-to Lythikos. If you two wouldn’t mind heading back to the palace and determining who on the team is still willing to serve as my legal counsel now that I am no longer king, that would be a helpful next step. Say we meet up again in one hour?”

The lawyers agreed to the plan, leaving Liam alone with Olivia and Hana. “Alright, what couldn’t you bring up until they left?”

Hana passed him a sheet of paper. On it were two phone numbers, written in perfect cursive.

“What’s this?”

“Since you no longer are king, we thought maybe you would not want to be left in the dark anymore.”

It only took him a second to realize what Hana was saying and what the phone numbers implied.

“They got burner phones?”

Olivia let out a little sigh. “Yup. And if you want to talk to them, our next step should be getting you one, too.”

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[peachebunnys]

Pain, with love II

pairing: Horacio Carrillo x reader

summary: Arranged marriages are tough, but add that with having to deal with a drug lord on the loose? Horacio Carrillo can only imagine what’s coming for him

warnings: mentions of blood and wounds, carrillo being dumb

a/n: Thank you all for your kind words and thank you @angelicpascal​ for proofreading this chapter too <3 This chapter is a short one compared to the previous one but reader is in it more~

2.3k words

Chapter Two;

Horacio staggers home, hands trembling as he unlocks the door, the jingle of the keys echoing in the quiet night. He feels it, the blood, it’s seeping through the makeshift bandage and slowly dripping down his torso. The uniform, now drenched, stuck to him like second skin with water droplets creating a puddle with every step he took. His breaths are shallow as he tries his best not to make a sound, limping his way to the kitchen counter to tend to his wounds. 

The air suddenly feels way too warm, a stark contrast to the weather during the raid, and beads of sweat forms above his eyebrow. He could barely sit upright on the stool, panting as soft as possible, in hopes of not waking you in the middle of the night. The last thing he needed, he thought, was to disturb your slumber and worry about his safety. 

The hospitals were unsurprisingly packed at a time like this, seeing recently an increase in road side shootouts as well as hostage situations. Horacio figured that the wounds he suffered from today weren’t too bad, noticing that he was in a better condition than he usually was post-raids. With that assumption in mind, he decided to head home first and call the private doctor in the morning, when he was feeling much better. His men were his top priority and he didn’t want resources wasted on him when he knew there were people who needed it more. 

The warm streetlights seeped in through the day curtains, illuminating the kitchen just enough for Horacio to notice that maybe he should’ve headed straight to the hospital. The blood stains on his pale grey shirt was starting to get bigger, and he could sense that the blood dripping from the wounds would not stop any time soon. He sucked in a sharp breath and removed his shirt entirely, wincing at the way the warm air stung against his open cuts. With trembling hands, he ran his fingers over the many cuts that littered his body, torso jerking with each time his rough fingers met with glass shards that pierced his skin. 

The whole room felt like it was spinning, and for some reason, Horacio felt like he hardly had air to breathe. With choked breaths, he closed his eyes momentarily, pursing his lips tightly as he tried to steady himself. Lightheadedness. Side effect of losing blood, huh? He held his hands up in front of him, inspecting the damage done to it under the warm orange glow, and noticed how it simply would not stop trembling. With a heavy sigh, he slowly started removing the visible glass shards from his stomach, holding back the urge to groan with each piece removed.

Gently caressing the wounds, he feels to find any potential bits he might have missed out, focusing heavily on finding any tiny glints as he positioned himself under the light. Just as he believes he finally has them all taken out, he decides to finally patch himself up and head to bed. He leans back, arms reaching out for the small med kit he stored at the other end of the island. As he pushes himself further, the chair tilts at an angle, threatening to slip at any moment. And just as Horacio pleasantly realises the med kit is in his hands, he falls off the chair - emitting a loud groan that rumbles from his belly. He makes a weak attempt to sit back on the unsteady chair, letting out another loud sigh as he finally gets to mending his wounds.

The light in the kitchen had been suddenly switched on, and the intensity of it had made Horacio wince, bloodied palms up in a weak attempt to shield his eyes from the harsh glare. 

“Horacio, you’re back already?” A familiar voice had asked him so sweetly, a hint of sleepiness lacing their gentle voice. “I have your dinner packed and placed in the microwave.”

Horacio barely has the energy to let out a grunt in acknowledgement, and judging from how calm you seemed, he could only guess that you couldn’t quite see the current predicament he was in. 

“Horacio? Are you alright?” Your voice had a tinge of worry, dragging your feet slowly to walk in front of your husband. “You sound a little-” As soon as you made eye contact with him, you felt your heart beat faster. The panic settling in as you took in the sight before you, immediately rushing to his side but not close enough to hurt him. 

Horacio looked at you with bleary eyes, the side of his face covered in blood - a result of him wiping off his sweat with bloodied hands. His hair was tousled and wet, and you could only guess it was due to the rain that was pouring a few hours back. You studied him for a minute, trying your best not to choke up at how awful he looked. His palms were planted on his thighs, but from the slight trembles of his fingers, you could tell he was hiding how badly shaken he was. Your eyes roamed to his bare chest and stomach, noting that the majority of the injuries were on his sides instead. A wave of relief washed over you as you realised it was mainly skin wounds and nothing too serious. 

You tried your best to steady your voice, but you knew that as soon you spoke, your worry would be evident. “W-what happened? Do you need help?”

Horacio eyes you curiously, taking in a deep breath before responding. “Had a rocket launcher shot at us during the raid,” he gently held your arm reassuringly as he noticed your eyes widening at his words, “everyone is fine, or at least they will-” he stifled a cough. “At least they will be.” 

Just as he was about to tell you that he could manage, he noticed you preparing a bowl of water - checking the temperature with your forefinger as you brought it towards him. You fished out a washcloth from the clean laundry basket and started dipping it into the lukewarm water, draining it of excess water before gently wiping the blood that was now dripping down to his khaki coloured pants. 

You cleaned him in silence, with only the sound of the kitchen clock ticking as time went by. Horacio’s eyes were fixed on you, observing how you reacted to every hiss he made with a worried glance and a soft apology. The lack of words between the both of you would’ve been deafening, if it weren’t for the fact that for some reason, the two of you were holding onto this time shared together, unwilling to break the silence in fear of ruining the moment. It was the first time since the wedding that you two are finally together, and despite the unfortunate situation at hand, it still felt nice to be together. 

You wouldn’t quite say it was because you had taken a liking to him already, since you only knew a handful of things about Horacio. But having someone next to you brought you peace of mind, not having to worry about threats beyond the walls of your home. Bogota was starting to get more dangerous as days went by, with thugs and narcos lining the streets, causing a ruckus. Having someone to spend the night with, though the relationship was merely friends at best, is always way better than spending the nights alone. And Horacio knew this. 

As you busied yourself in cleaning up the last few wounds, you could feel Horacio’s body visibly relax, slumping back against the kitchen counter. You were mesmerised by the way his stomach moved as he started breathing normally again, pain subsiding as you continued cleaning the cuts. The bowl next to you had its contents turn deep red, reminding you of how much blood Horacio had lost while you patched him up. After carefully placing the last bandage on the largest gash, you gently patted his arm, smiling as he looked back at you with unfocused eyes. 

“Horacio, you should go to bed now.” You advise, taking the bowl and the washcloth to the sink for rinsing. “I’ll call the doctor first thing in the morning, but you should rest now. I’ll tend to you shortly.”

“You don’t have t-”

“Horacio,” you sigh, looking back at the man sympathetically, ”you’re injured, please let me take care of you this time.”

“Don’t wanna burden you,” he hisses through gritted teeth, “I’ll be fine.”

He attempts to stand up, wobbling slightly as his feet touch the cool marble floor. Horacio never quite liked depending on people, always feeling the need to do things himself. He gripped the beautiful white countertop as he steadied himself, eyes looking straight into yours as he had a determined look plastered on his face. Your eyebrows shot up as you noticed him trying to find his balance, looking rather pleased with himself when he finally did. 

“If”, you paused, walking up to Horacio slowly, “If you don’t let me help you right now, I will stab you again with one of those glass shards over there.” Your right forefinger pointed towards the many glass bits that Horacio had managed to remove before, all of which were a different size and shape, covered in dried blood. Horacio’s eyes widened as he looked at you with a puzzled expression, which soon turned into a slight smirk once he realised you were joking. 

“I’d like to see you try,” he let out a soft chuckle, allowing you to once again hold his arm gently as you led him to the bedroom. 

The two of you were friends, at best, and while it may sound strange but it did ease the awkwardness in situations like these when you were together alone. You both knew each other though, all those years back, when the weight of the world didn’t lie on Horacio’s shoulders, like it did now. Back then, he was a fresh graduate in the Police Force, waiting to be assigned to his first unit, while you were just entering college. The two of you had met briefly at a mutual friend’s party, opting to talk to each other when said friend had left to get more drinks. You’d dare say the two of you had clicked easily, in which later bloomed into friendship rather quickly. The two of you shared rather similar views on the world, and the likeness of you both hadn’t gone unnoticed - but that was so many years ago. 

It was unfortunate, you thought, that barely months after meeting him that you had to leave Columbia to study abroad - leaving behind all your friends and family. Things had visibly changed when you returned, and the streets of Bogota weren’t as safe as you thought they were when you left. Your close friends whom you had kept in contact with were different too, some busy with their new families, others too invested in their jobs to catch up. One person you didn’t quite think you would cross paths with again, now stood opposite you and that got you thinking how life really works in mysterious ways.

The man whose arm you held now, you’d assume, was different. Battle hardened, stronger and even more passionate in wanting to make a change to the world. Life’s funny, you thought, who would’ve guessed that the two of us would be married now? Sure, it was arranged, and by no means either of your choices, but you couldn’t help but wonder if things would’ve turned out just like this if you kept in contact with him all those years ago. 

You felt your toes hit the side of the bed frame, which took all your energy not to cuss out in the middle of the night due to the pain. You quickly guestered to Horacio to sit down, coughing slightly to stifle the groan you were about to let out. 

“Try not to lie on your sides when you sleep tonight,” you advised, “it’ll only aggravate the wounds.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, face only inches apart from his as you reached for a pillow next to him. “If you need anything, just call me, I’ll be right next to you.” You pointed to your side of the bed that was now undone but clearly slept in. You straighten your back and pull away from him, looking at Horacio with a small smile, “It seems like you’re always getting injured, hm?”

Horacio has his eyebrows knitted together in a frown, and you could almost see the gears in his head shifting, trying to make sense of what you were trying to say. 

“At Paula’s party, right after your trainee graduation, remember? You had small cuts on your arm, something about your friends shoving you into the bushes?”

“I wasn’t shoved,” he chuckled, his deep voice echoing throughout the large bedroom, “it was an accident. I’m surprised you even remembered it.”

“How could I forget, especially with that poor excuse of a pick-up line you made about it. What was it again? Beauty so mesmerising it physically hurts you? That was just bad, Horacio.” 

Horacio’s face was starting to feel warmer, and he wasn’t sure if it was due to the heat in the room, or simply because he was embarrassed at what he had said to you back then, at the party. The sun was starting to rise again, indicating the dawn of a new day, and the hues of pink, yellow and orange was seeping in through the tinted windows, illuminating the room to become a pretty bright colour. 

You stood at the doorway, looking back at your husband whose breaths were starting to get deeper and more even. You could tell he was starting to fall asleep, adjusting his body to make himself as comfortable as possible. Just as you were about to leave the room, you heard a soft ‘thank you’ uttered behind you, the voice sounding small and unsure. 

You turned back to him, smiling as you closed the door, “goodnight Horacio. Sleep well.”