#until I got the hang of appearing very calm and friendly at doctor's offices. and then they were like oh! that's a very high heart rate!

[tj-crochets]

Got more blood test results, and I no longer need to take B12 supplements!!! This is the first time, ever, in over a decade, that I have been told to stop taking a medication for reasons other than "take a different one instead" or "you are allergic to that"

I'm not iron deficient anymore!!! :D I just got the blood test results back and for once I had a fixable problem and it is fixed*!!!! *well okay my total iron saturation % is still a little low but the rest of my numbers are in the normal range! Even ferritin!! My ferritin levels have almost quadrupled and are now in the normal range!!! :D

[worldwidemochiguy]

the best of both worlds (soft! yandere taehyung)

Summary: A drunken man tries to assault you, and you see for the first time what it’s like for Taehyung to really lose his temper...

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: Yandere behaviour, attempted drunken sexual assault, mention of kidnapping, idealisation of kidnapping, stockholm syndrome probably, (dead dove: do not eat)

Made For Each Other Masterlist (the rest of this series of one-shots) 

General Masterlist

a/n: Kim Taehyung, the king of duality! yes the title is a hannah montana reference, and no i’m not sorry, but i am sorry for the ending which is kinda bad bc i'm really bad at ending things lmao. get ready for warm, fuzzy, protective soon-to-be-dad taehyung, as well as pissed off, dangerous, i’m-going-to-murder-you taehyung (not directed at reader, of course). tell me which one you prefer lol

~~~~~~~~

“Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think this tie brings out my eyes?” You snorted as you saw Taehyung appear in the mirror, standing behind you with a Simpsons themed tie hanging undone around his neck. His eyebrows were raised, obviously expecting an answer.

“Really?” He huffed, and then placed his hands on his hips. 

“Does it bring out my eyes or not?”

“Well it definitely brings out your inner child.” He smiled, walking up to you and wrapping you in a hug from behind, one of his hands drifting down to cup your stomach protectively. 

“I wish it would bring out your inner child.”

“Ah, I think you’re gonna have to wait another six months for that, Tae.” His grin matched yours as he buried his face in your neck, planting little kisses on the underside of your jaw. “Also, it’s our child, you know.”

“Mmhm, I don’t know, you have been pretty friendly with Minjae from accounting recently-” He broke into a laugh as you reached over to grab the pillow on the bed and thwacked him with it. 

You were glad you had gotten to a stage in your relationship where you could joke about these things. At first, Taehyung had been too possessive to even dare, and you had been so fragile you wouldn’t have wanted to mention it even as a joke, for fear of upsetting him. Now, after being married for almost a year, and pregnant for three months, you were both far more trusting of each other. That isn’t to say Taehyung wouldn’t rip the arms off any man who tried to touch you. And, to be honest, you didn’t mind that so much. It felt nice knowing he loved you enough to not want to lose you. 

Forty minutes later, you were both dressed and ready to go. You had been ready half an hour ago, but when Taehyung saw you in your dress, he got that look in his eye… the look that meant he was about to undo all of the hard work that went into your carefully styled hair. After that, it took an additional ten minutes to fix your hair, as he had fisted into it as he thrusted roughly into your throat, and also fix your runny mascara and smeared lipstick. He told you that you looked equally beautiful all messed up, that you looked sexy even. You quickly reminded him that he wouldn’t want anyone else to see you in that state, though, would he? 

Taehyung’s face darkened and you barely escaped spending another half hour at home as he showed you who you belonged to. 

Once you arrived at the office party, Taehyung’s hand curled possessively around your lower back, you were immediately overwhelmed. This was an interdepartmental gathering, meaning it wasn’t just Taehyung’s six close friends who worked on your floor and who you had a growing rapport with. No, this was practically everyone, including Ryan from human resources and Boyoung from marketing and a billion other names and faces you just didn’t know. 

Taehyung turned to you questioningly, feeling your muscles stiffen up. Your forced yourself to send a relaxed smile back at him. He had promised his friends that he would show up, and you didn’t want to inconvenience him. Or worse, embarrass him. You were entirely willing to let your comfort take a back seat tonight, after all, Taehyung was always catering to your needs excessively, especially now that you were pregnant. You brushed a hand over the bump distractedly, just to reassure yourself. 

You were barely showing yet, and Taehyung had said many times about how he couldn’t wait until you were obviously carrying his child, this sentiment always expressed with a possessive gleam in his eyes which never failed to send a pleasant shiver down your spine. When you realised you were pregnant, you worried that he wouldn’t be so pleased with all the changes to your body, but Taehyung had been unfailingly supportive, positively ecstatic throughout the whole process. You could just tell that, once you had given birth, he would do everything he could to give your child the best life possible. 

The thought caused a tingling sensation of warmth to settle in your stomach, and you relished it, because you certainly weren’t going to receive that feeling from drinking alcohol, usually the go-to method of making office parties bearable. You felt bad, Taehyung wouldn’t even be able to indulge himself in that, and all because of you. 

When you told him you were pregnant, Taehyung had rid the house of all alcoholic substances — along with anything else that could be potentially harmful to the baby — within a day. You told him over and over again that you didn’t mind if he wanted to drink, but he swore he wouldn’t. After all, he reasoned, What if I kissed you with traces of alcohol in my mouth? What would that do to the baby? When you told him that he could just remember not to kiss you after drinking, his face became even more horrified and he tugged you into his chest. Not kiss you? I’d rather die. Your husband was very dramatic. You loved him so much it hurt. 

“So, Y/n, he’s still letting you out of the house?” Jimin joked, causing the rest of Taehyung’s (and your) friends to roar in laughter. They were all aware of Taehyung’s extreme possessiveness over you, and took great pleasure in mocking him for it. 

“Yeah, I thought you would arrive here with a leash for Taehyung to hold on to.”

“Hey, Namjoon!” You started harshly, and the man stiffened, preparing for a verbal lashing. “It would definitely be Taehyung wearing the leash.” The rest of the boys burst into laughter, apart from Taehyung who was busy giving Namjoon a death stare. 

You tapped your husband’s chest lightly to get him to snap out of it.

“Don’t worry,” You told him in a hushed voice, “Namjoon was just joking, it’s ok.” He growled, snaking his other arm around your waist and pressing his forehead to yours. 

“I know, I just- I love you too much to let anyone say anything bad about you ever.”

“I know.” You giggled, pulling back slightly and registering the whoops of your friends behind you. A sharp glare of Taehyung’s over your shoulder got them all to shut up pretty quickly.

An hour later, you were nursing a lukewarm Virgin Margarita and sighing. Jimin and Hoseok had looped Taehyung into karaoke at the front of the office on a little makeshift stage. At first it had been funny, but after nine songs it was kind of boring, and your feet had started to really ache, and you wanted nothing more than to be snuggling in your large bed, where there was no karaoke, and no uncomfortable high heels, and no ice cubes that melt into your drink literally five minutes after you put them there. 

You sighed again, discarding your non-alcoholic disappointment on a table. You glanced at it briefly. Someone had done their best to decorate it, placing a little ‘2020!’ novelty stand on it, as well as the tinsel left over from Christmas. You say ‘Someone’, knowing full well it was probably Jimin. Jimin had been the mastermind behind this hellish office party, and had somehow strong-armed everyone into agreeing to come, despite the fact office parties were universally despised by all. 

You heard the drums in the intro of ‘The Best Of Both Worlds’ start to play, and you looked up to see Taehyung chucking Jimin a blonde wig. He scrambled to put it on, almost succeeded, then proceeded to start belting into the fake microphone with artificial blonde strands finding their way into his mouth. Everyone in the office started cheering and crowding around the makeshift stage area, which was where you also stood, so that you could still be as close to Taehyung as possible. 

With the rowdy, tipsy and slightly sweaty people of the office starting to surround you, all jumping along to the Hannah Montana ballad, you felt yourself start to overheat. You had been getting occasional hot flushes since the pregnancy started, something which the doctors ensured you was normal and which Taehyung never failed to lose his mind over. Last time, you had gotten dizzy enough to fall over yourself slightly and trip onto the safety of the couch, and Taehyung had almost cried, rushing you to the hospital despite your protestations. 

You knew if you alerted him to your overheated state, he would go into overdrive, so you quietly slipped out of the large open-plan floor they were having the party in and into the corridor. It was much cooler out there and you could feel the unpleasant dizziness slowly rescind, melting out of you just like those ice cubes in your Margarita (which you absolutely weren’t still bitter about). 

You were in such a calm, placid state of relaxation that the footsteps coming down the hall startled you. Your eyes opened to see the stumbling figure of a man returning from the toilet. He hadn’t done up his fly properly — you immediately averted your eyes from that — and you could tell he was pretty obviously inebriated. A budding sense of foreboding made itself known in your gut. 

“Hello, pretty- hic- lady.” The stranger slurred, the scent of the alcohol on his breath wafting over to you. You wanted to clamp a hand over your nose, irrationally worrying if the stench would hurt your baby. 

“I’m married.” You told him in a closed-off voice, displaying the expensive wedding ring Taehyung had slid on your finger, sealing the promise with a kiss. Rather than backing off, the man grabbed your offered hand, pressing a sloppy kiss to it. You exclaimed in disgust, trying to wrench your hand away, but you only succeeded in pulling him closer to you. You tried to backtrack, but you were only walking backwards and further away from the safety of the entrance to the office, further into the dark corridor. The cold now felt dangerous, and confining, but worse still was the hot breath of the man fanning across your face as he backed you against the wall.

“Get off me.” You tried to scream, but it came out as a pathetic whimper. “Get off me.” He chuckled, his disgusting fingers setting themselves on your waist, and he was so close to your underdeveloped baby bump that you wanted to scream. 

“Gonna make me feel so good, aren’t you?” The man laughed darkly, 

“Get off me!” You sobbed, stronger this time but still not strong enough. He pinned your wrists behind you painfully, ceasing your weak attempts at shoving him off. 

“I’m gonna have a lotta fun with you, pretty lady.” He whispered, and your tears started rolling in earnest because oh God, no one was coming to save you, Taehyung wasn’t going to want you after this-

Distant voices echoed, a familiar voice. Your vision went white, and your legs buckled beneath you. All you could register as you crashed down to the floor was that there was no one there to catch you. 

~~~~~~

Taehyung was enjoying himself. It had been a while since he had gone out, probably years, due to his whole acquiring you, and then having to stay with you at all times until you came to your senses, and then having to stay by your side to protect you now that you were pregnant. It was a whole process. Don’t get him wrong, he loved you with his whole heart, and you were without a doubt the most important thing in his life, but he also enjoyed lesser pleasures like getting fresh air, having a change of scenery, and watching his friends get absolutely shit-faced and sing Hannah Montana in front of the entire faculty. 

But, after about half an hour of that, he was missing you again. He cast his eye over the crowd, checking on you where you were standing in the spot you had been for the last ten minutes. And then he stopped. You weren’t there. He squinted slightly, hoping that perhaps he wasn’t seeing right. But, it was real, you weren’t there anymore. He felt a wave of hysteria build up in him, ready to crash. He left the side of the karaoke stage, which was less of a stage and more a pile of empty printer-paper boxes, and strode through the room. Jimin tried to call him back, but Taehyung could barely hear a thing, too focused on searching for you.

He was frantic. He could just tell something bad had happened to you, someone was doing something to you, he could feel it in his heart. Once he confirmed you were definitely not in the room, he really started to panic. And then that panic subsided into cold, hard fury. Whoever had taken you away — because he knew you wouldn’t have left voluntarily, or without even telling him — he would tear them apart. 

He spotted the exit into the hallway, and as he got further away from the racket of the karaoke and closer to the doorway, a conversation drifted out to him.

“-off me.” A woman’s voice. A crying woman’s voice. Your voice. The rage within him grew fangs and roared.

“I’m gonna have a lotta fun with you, pretty lady.” 

By this point, Taehyung had reached the hallway and saw something he could have lived the rest of his life without seeing. 

A man had you pinned to the wall. You were sobbing, writhing in his grip, desperately trying to get away. He had his hands on you, he had his hands on your stomach, on Taehyung’s child.

“I’m gonna have a lotta fun with you, pretty lady.”

Taehyung ripped the man off you and threw him against the wall. He hit the surface hard, his head thrown back, and Taehyung let out a hiss of satisfaction as the man- the filth who dared to touch you slid down the wall leaving a smear of blood. But all thoughts fled from his mind as he heard your whimper behind him. He turned just in time to see your eyelids flutter shut, and he lunged to catch you as your legs gave out and you fell to the floor. 

“Oh God,” he muttered, “Oh God, Oh God, Y/n? Can you hear me?” No response. “Oh God.” Taehyung repeated. It seemed he couldn’t do anything but stare at your blank face, limp head resting in his lap as he sat on the floor with your unconscious form. 

“Please, baby.” He whispered, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I’m so so sorry, please be okay.” His lips brushed your skin. No response. You always used to smile when he kissed you. He wished you would smile now.

“Taehyung, what- oh.” Hoseok paused as he took in the scene, having followed after Taehyung rushed out of the office. He had assumed it was something to do with you, since Taehyung rarely had that fervent look when he was dealing with anything else. But now, there was a body, a man, lying crumpled across the hall with a pretty serious head wound, and Taehyung was sat on the floor, rocking your unconscious form, seemingly in shock himself. 

“Taehyung,” Hoseok prompted him again, but he didn’t even pause in his litany of pleas into your hairline. Hoseok ran his eyes over you for a second, you were definitely breathing, and there were no wounds, so you must have passed out from shock. Okay, Hoseok thought, One problem at a time. 

“What should we do with him?” 

“What?” Taehyung looked up at Hoseok, disorientated, but Hoseok exhaled in relief. He had his attention, he could work with that.

“The man, over there.” Hoseok jerked his chin at the inebriated man, who was slowly coming to, groaning. “We have to get rid of him, and without anyone at the party knowing.” Taehyung snarled at the sight of the man, and Hoseok walked over and kicked the intoxicated figure in the head. Taehyung let out a hiss of feral satisfaction.

“You want him dead, right?” Hoseok questioned, and Taehyung nodded immediately, eyes going back to his wife, still unconscious in his lap. Hoseok pulled out his knife — which he took care always to keep on his person — but Taehyung interrupted him.

“Wait-” Hoseok paused, looking back at Taehyung. “I want to kill him. I want to kill him slowly, he doesn’t deserve a quick death.” The rage in those words was chilling, even to Hoseok, and he nodded, pocketing the blade. 

“Well then, I’ll have to get Namjoon and probably Jeongguk to help me carry him up to the top floor. We’ll tie him up, leave him there for you. I’ll get Yoongi to pull up this guy’s file — Yoongi has contacts in the police and he’ll know how to make sure this never happened.” Taehyung nodded again, and Hoseok strode back into the office, on his way to draw out the other man in a casual, subtle way so they could get the bastard out with no one the wiser. 

Taehyung brushed his thumb over your cheekbone and your eyelashes, fanned delicately over your cheek, fluttered slightly. Taehyung audibly exhaled. He gently displaced your head, resting it on the floor and you frowned in your sleep. Even in the situation Taehyung had found himself in, it was difficult not to coo at your pretty little face. He scooped you up, his arms secured underneath you, and walked to the elevator. He was confident his coworkers would handle the situation and, to be honest, he didn’t really give a damn about it. He didn’t give a damn about anything that wasn’t you, asleep in his arms, delicate and vulnerable and perfect. 

~~~~~~

You woke up to a pounding headache, and two arms wrapped firmly around your middle, a warm body pressed against your back. You immediately turned around to see the face of your husband, the man you loved and the father of your child. His face was crumpled into a scowl, and his arms tightened around you protectively. You shivered as the memories from last night caught up to you, and then gasped. 

Taehyung woke up, eyes immediately flying to your distraught face. He could do nothing as tears started to flow out of your eyes. You buried your face in his neck and sobbed. He whispered words of comfort and ran his warm hands up and down your back as you let it all out, crying until you couldn’t anymore, even though you felt no better. 

“T-Tae-” You whimpered into his neck.

“I’m here,” He whispered back, “I’m here, Princess.” The nickname, something he used to make you feel precious, and protected, only made you start crying again, to Taehyung’s dismay.  

“I-I’m so- Taehyung.” Your words became more and more fragmented as your sorrow choked you. Your hands were tightly fisted into his shirt, and he tried to pry them off so he could intertwine your fingers together, but you held on stubbornly. 

“Taehyung,” You started again, “I-I’m so so sorry.” He finally managed to free your hands, but instead of letting him hold them, you brought them up to cover your face. Your voice became muffled as you sobbed into your palms.

“Hey- hey,” Taehyung chided, wrapping his hands around your wrists and guiding them away from your face. “You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. Nothing.”

“N-no but I- I let someone else touch me!” You wailed, before trying to cover your face with your hands again, but Taehyung didn’t let go, so you eventually relented and slumped into him, defeated. 

“You didn’t let someone else touch you.” Taehyung informed in a forcibly calm voice, though he wanted to smash every piece of furniture in the house because you were upset and you felt guilty and it was all that piece of shit’s fault- “It wasn’t your fault at all. I should never have left you alone, I should have been there to protect you. And that piece of filth-” Taehyung snarled, “should have known better than to touch what is mine. Both you, and my child you’re carrying, are all mine, and he will die for even daring to come near you.” 

You sniffed, a damp spot forming on his shirt where your face was pressed, but Taehyung didn’t mind. He ran his hand up and down your spine, tucking you into his body carefully. After a moment, you tilted your head up at him.

“So… I’m still yours, right?” Taehyung’s brows furrowed, and he looked down at you in outrage.

“Of course you’re still mine. You’ll always be mine, no matter what.” 

Upon hearing this, your face smoothed out before you gave him the most dazzling smile, the one you had given him when you told him you loved him, when he proposed, when you told him about the baby. 

“Wait-” He looked back up, shocked by a realisation, before looking down at you again, “Did you think I wouldn’t love you because some asshole dared to touch you?” At his incredulous tone, you flushed and buried your face in his chest, but he wouldn’t let you, drawing you up to sit in his lap facing him properly.

“Did you seriously think-” He interrupted himself, pressing a series of kisses to your jaw, before continuing, “-that I would just discard the love of my life-” A kiss to your forehead, “-the mother of my child-” He leaned down and kissed the growing swell of your abdomen, “-and many future children I hope-” you giggled, shoving his shoulder lightly, knowing you didn’t want to actually push him away, “-just because some lowlife who doesn’t deserve to even be spoken of in the same sentence as you-” you gaped at him, before breaking into a smile, and he smiles back at you, resting his forehead against yours. You rest for a moment, fully content in each others company.

“Did you really think I’d let go of you that easily?” He asks, his voice soft. You search for the sincerity in his eyes, and you find it there, flowing out of him in his gaze, in his voice, in his actions. He loves you too much to get rid of you like that. And that’s good, because you love him to much to be cast off.

“No.” You reply, and he quirks a half smile at you. 

“You don’t?”

“No. Which is convenient, because I don’t want you to let me go.” 

He leans in and kisses you slow and deep, and its all so bone-achingly good, and familiar, and you know you can’t wait to spend the rest of your life with this man. 

[readbeneaththelines]

Just The Person I Need Pt. 5

Kwon JiYong is a Multi Million Dollar business man thrown into parenthood when his brother and sister-in-law die in an accident. leaving A son and daughter behind. Y/N is a nanny that loves what she does. What happens when their lives become intertwined? Will she be Just The Person He Needs?

Characters: Business Man!Kwon JiYong X Nanyy!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut somewhere along the way

Word Count: 3266

Warnings: None really for this chapter, language, maybe angry JiYong? 

cr to gif owner..... why is he so damn good looking?

JiYong exhaled, trying to regain his composure. His hands were drawn into tight fists, the knuckles turning white from the pressure. Walking to the door that Mr. Mueller had just left through, he raised one of his fists, slamming it hard and straight into the solid wood. He heard a crack, but would not let it register that he had probably cracked a few knuckles or possibly broken his hand. Red with rage, he strode to his desk, picking up the receiver with his good hand. Pressing numbers hard enough to break them, he dialed a fellow conglomerate overseas. Taking his tie from around his collar, he began to wrap his swollen hand while waiting for an answer. 

As soon as Eric Teller picked up, JiYong was seething. 

“Teller Incorporated, Eric Teller speaking.” this man’s voice was pleasant and friendly.

“Eric, It’s Ji. We have a problem and I need your help, now!”

As JiYong relayed everything to Eric, he became increasingly agitated at the whole situation. This was not how he normally reacted to these types of threats. He never permitted physical retaliation anywhere. But here he was, knuckles swollen, face red, and brows covered in sweat. He was nearly screaming by the time he finished explaining every detail to Eric.

“Ji, first take a deep breath and calm down. We will figure out the best steps to take in bringing Mr. Mueller down a notch or two.” Eric spoke gingerly, not wanting to make JiYong more upset than he already was.

“Eric, dammit! I don’t want to bring him down a notch or two. I want him destroyed! I will own his companies… No, I will own him when I am finished with him, do you understand me? I will own him. That fucking piece of German shit will pay for this!” he was yelling at the top of his lungs by this point. He didn’t care, for once, what people were hearing outside those doors.

“Ji, we will own him, okay. Just let me make some calls then I will get back to you. Until then, don’t do anything erratic and stupid, okay?” Eric’s voice was still calm and collected.

“Fine. I will be expecting your call. Goodbye” and with that he slammed the receiver down. He suddenly collapsed into his desk chair, his hands trembling and the pain from his injured hand intensifying. Taking a few calming breaths, he stood and cradled his wrapped hand. Walking out into the lobby, employees began to scatter when they saw the doors open. No one made eye contact or got in his way. He left without a word. 

The drive to the hospital was more difficult than he thought, since the pain was so intense he could not even shift correctly. Once he arrived, the woman at admissions saw him and ushered him directly in. She picked up the phone to message the attending and inform him of the special patient they had.

He was placed in a private room and the door was closed for privacy. He normally hated this kind of special treatment, but was thankful for it this go around. Dialing his cell phone single handed, he called his house to inform them that he would be late and to make sure his mother and the kids were fed. The gentleman on the other line informed him that his mother had already planned on keeping the children overnight, and for him to call her later. As he was hanging up, Dr Choi stepped in.

“Ji-, you had better be thankful that I heard the call over the speakerphone. If it got out that you were here with an injury, you know what could happen. Now, please tell me what or who you hit, and why”  his voice kind but firm letting him know he meant business.

“How did you know I hit something? You are very aware, aren’t you Dr. Choi? I hit a solid wood door, out of anger. Better than hitting the person though, right?” JiYong tried to lighten Dr. Choi’s demeanor.

“Ji, what were you thinking? What has gotten into you lately? Every time you stop by my office, you seem more distant, more tired than the last time. If you are overwhelmed with something, you need to let someone know, especially before something worse than your hand happens again. Now let’s get that X-rayed. I can tell you just by looking at it, you have a few broken bones in there.” Dr. Choi led him to X-ray where they confirmed four broken metacarpal bones and one broken finger.

After being set in a cast, he thanked Dr. Choi for his assistance. The kind doctor took him by the good wrist, leading him to his private office.

 What if this had been seen by those kids? Has all that has been happening lately been the reason for this outburst? We are friends, but I need you to talk to me, see if maybe I can help.” He sat on the edge of his desk, looking down at JiYong.

“I’m tired, Chang-min, exhausted actually. Don’t get me wrong, I love those kids and wouldn’t have things any other way. It’s just that... I don’t know... how I am going to run my business, care for these kids, and everything else all by myself? I’m afraid I’m going to fail them, and I don’t want to do that. Especially after all they have been through at such a young age.”

“Why don’t you hire a nanny, like we have? She is wonderful, and she only works a couple days a week with us and then another family a few more days. We use another nanny on her off days. I tell you what, let me send her over to your place, that way you can meet her, let the kids meet her, and if everything feels right then we will be happy to let her go so she can help you out. It has been a lifesaver for us.”

JiYong wondered why he never thought of a nanny before last night. He lowered his head and sighed heavily. He wondered if that would be the solution to maintaining his sanity in all of this. 

“Why don’t I call her and send her your way? I am willing to give her the time off, if it in turns helps you.” Dr. Choi stood from the edge of his desk and handed JiYong a prescription for pain medicine. They walked together down the service hallway so that he could go unnoticed. 

After he finally arrived home, he was ready for pain medicine and a stiff drink. He rushed through the doors, taking a brief second to greet the staff on the foyer. Once he reached the kitchen, he poured a snifter of whiskey with ice and took the large pill in one gulp with the entire glass of warming liquor. Making his way to his bedroom, he was silently thanking his mother for taking the kids for the night. He knew he had to call her and inform her of the events that had transpired over the day. 

After explaining everything to his mom, she convinced him to let her and his father keep the kids for the weekend, giving him a chance to rest and recuperate. He was immensely grateful and told her that he would let her know when the nanny was coming. Hanging up, he scooted his legs under the covers and fell asleep before his head hit the pillow.

The light was pouring in through the floor to ceiling windows, warming his face. Slowly he stretched, a sharp pain reminding him of yesterday’s events. Checking his phone, he realized he had overslept by three hours. There were seven missed calls from his assistant, two from Eric, and one message from Dr. Choi. He quickly tapped on it to read the message.

Talked with our nanny, she would be happy to meet you at your convenience. This week or next. Just let me know which one works for you.

He pulled up the keyboard and began responding.

Dr. Choi,nthank you, later this week would be fine. Please let her know that I will be available after 2:00 pm. Please send her my address and number in case she needs directions. Thank you again for this kind offer.

Pressing send, he rose from the bed and headed for the shower. Looking at his arm, he reconsidered and opted for a bath. The warm water soaked into his muscles, easing the tension that had been there since yesterday morning. Once the water became cool, he stepped out and dried off. Wrapping a towel around his waist he checked his phone again. Another missed call from Eric and a message from Dr. Choi. Message first, then call Eric, he told himself.

She will be there Friday at 2:00 promptly. She is a stickler for being early so expect her around 1:45 and she will wait until 2:00 before coming to the door. No problem, Ji. Anything to help you. Let me know how it goes.

He called Eric before heading down for some late breakfast. Eric informed him that several oversea conglomerates had been approached by Mr. Mueller. They were all willing to give any assistance in bringing him down. He thanked Eric and told him he would call him Monday. His stomach growled, causing him to venture downstairs. 

Sang-hoon greeted him cautiously. JiYong recalled how he appeared last night and the cast on his arm.

“Sang-hoon, I apologize for my behavior last evening. I had a rough day and just needed some privacy. Trust me, you are all fine and I am not upset with any of you”.

“Pardon Mr. Kwon, but I did not believe any of us were at fault. I have seen how chaotic it has been around here lately, so I figured you needed some space, which I told everyone to provide you. Please go to the dining room and enjoy some brunch. It should be about ready.”

JiYong was grateful for Sang-hoon. The older gentleman was a soothing presence and patient as all get out with two kids running around the house. Patting the older man on his shoulder, he headed for the dining room. He did not realize how hungry he truly was until he sat down. He finished off three plates of bacon, eggs, fruit and pancakes. Satisfied and sated, he went to his office. Stopping short of the door, he changed his mind, opting for going outside to enjoy the warm summer air. The warmth surrounded him, loosening the remaining tension from his body. He set himself down on the ledge of the fountain, dipping his long fingers into the cool water. He let his mind wander back to the last time he spoke with his brother. It had been the night before the accident, and they had been discussing plans for a vacation this coming summer. The entire family was going to get together and spend some quality time together. His brother told him he was proud of him and he couldn’t wait to see him. 

After you and Ha-eun had spent most of the morning shopping for wedding dresses, decorations, and your bridesmaid dress, you both settled down for an early lunch.

“Oh Y/N, I have had the best time today! I have really missed the times when we would do this every weekend. I can’t wait to make a new life here with Seung-hwan and get to spend more time with you too! I am excited for what’s to come. Now all we have to do is find Mr. Perfect for you then we will be set as the two power couples of Gangnam!” How she wasn’t exhausted baffled you as you smiled at her friend’s enthusiasm.

“Ha-eun, I am so happy that you found the one for you, but as for me, I don’t think Mr. Perfect is in my cards.”

 Except for the perfect Mr. Kwon JiYong, you said to yourself. Smiling, you continued.

“I think that in this life I am meant to be just what I am now, a nanny. My heart is drawn to this, and since all the dads are married, well then, I guess I don’t really have time to find the One. Besides, I haven’t found anyone that piques my interest.”

 Except for that gorgeous specimen Mr. Kwon, your quiet subconscious voice told you. 

Pushing the thoughts back in their recesses, you honestly believed that you would remain single in this lifetime. Not that you were troubled by this, but you had to admit that, just like every young woman, you had certain needs. The touch from a man, the feel of soft lips pressing to yours, the shivers they would send all over your body. Sometimes, you craved that, but lately with two families, you never had free time to meet anyone that you found special enough to be intimate with. Who knew, maybe one day. 

Ha-eun was waving her hand in front of your face, attempting to get your attention. Shaking your head lightly, you came back to the present conversation.

“What’s got you all flustered? Your mind keeps wandering off and then you get this cheesy grin. Who has caught your eye young lady?” Ha-eun laughed when you blushed a bright red.

“No one really. There is this gentleman, he is friends with one of the families I work for. I have literally bumped into him twice now. He is so fine looking Ha-eun. Expensive suits, manicured nails, a smile that would make you melt. But he is just a fantasy guy for me to fawn over in my dreams”.

Ha-eun’s eyebrows raised at the mention of the mystery man. She looked at you, a glint in her eye.

“Whatever you are thinking, Miss Ha-eun, get your dirty thoughts out of your head right now. We are not going man hunting for my dreamy Mr. Perfect!” You swatted at your friend’s shoulder, but laughed when you saw the mischievous grin spreading.

“Whatever you say dear. Just keep him in your dreams. At least that way, he can’t screw anything up.” and at that, you both doubled over laughing.

While eating your meal, your phone rang. Looking at the screen, you quickly answered when seeing Dr. Choi’s name pop up. Excusing yourself from the table, you answered the call.

“Hello Dr. Choi. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, Y/N, everything’s fine. I was wondering if you could do me a huge favor?”

“Yes Sir, sure thing. What do you need?”

“I have a close friend that is looking for a nanny to help I out. I told him that you may be the perfect fit, especially since you only work a couple days a week now with us. We would miss you, but he really needs the help more than we do, and I think you would enjoy working for him.”

“I would be happy to meet with him. Of course I would miss you all too. But if you highly recommend him, then I would like to help any way I can.”

“Great! How about this Friday? Are you working with the Kims this weekend?”

“No sir, they actually treated me to a long weekend. So I won’t be working until Monday.”

That is perfect. How about two o’clock? I will send you his address and number.”

Thank you very much, Mr. Choi. I will be sure to call you after the meeting.”

Hanging up, you returned to the table. Your friend was now on her phone chatting endlessly away with Seung-hwan. Settling down in your seat, you began wondering who this new family could be. You began to fret, bringing a fingernail to your mouth to chew on a nail. Ha-eun slapped your hand away and shook her head. You put your hand in your lap and smiled back at Ha-eun.

“So, what was the mystery call about?”

“Oh nothing maybe, just one of the families I work for may have a more permanent family for me. I am going to meet with them this Friday”.

“Hmmm… must be loaded, to come recommended by Dr. Choi.” she giggled when you attempted to smack her again. 

Both of you finished the meal and began the long trek back to Ha-eun’s hotel. You were going to stay the night, taking advantage of one last single girls night in before her best friend got married.  Thanking Hyo-min for lunch, you hopped the next bus back to the Choi household to grab some clothes and ask about the friend you were interviewing with. You were greeted by Mrs. Choi and the children, who rushed at you with open arms for hugs. Bending down on one knee, you wrapped them tight, swaying back and forth with exaggeration. Kissing them atop their heads, you sent them off to play. Mrs. Choi handed you a fresh cup of coffee before pouring herself another one.

Mrs. Choi sat across the spacious counter. She looked at you and began speaking in her usual soft voice.

“Y/N, the gentleman my husband referred you to, is a kind man. He is in a tough spot right now and really needs someone to be there and help him. Things are turned upside down for him, so I know that you would be the perfect one to lift him up while helping him out. As much as we adore you, we also adore our friend. He is the only person I would be willing to lose you to. I hope it works out for you both.” Her smile was kind, and you knew she was being sincere.

  “I hope it works out well for the both of us too, Mrs. Choi. If I do end up working with him, then maybe we can get all the kids together often.”

The lady nodded her head in agreement. Not many people knew JiYong’s situation, and it broke her heart that he was doing this alone. She knew you would be the loving person the kids needed, and also a strong support for him.

You spent the rest of the week with your friends and enjoyed some free time to yourself. SEeing that you didn't get much of it, you took full advantage. Friday arrived before you knew it. She went to the Choi’s to put on fresh clothes and get ready.

Looking at her watch, you readied yourself to leave. You really hated being late, and always tried to arrive at least fifteen minutes early. Hugging your employer tightly, you scooted down the hall to tell the kids bye. you put the address in the GPS, then headed out for the meeting. When you pulled in the driveway, you were greeted by a speaker at the gate. After verifying who you were, the gate slowly opened and you inched the car through. You saw him before he noticed the car. JiYong was wearing linen pants that hung low on his slender hips. His shirt was a pale baby-blue that was unbuttoned to his mid chest, caramel honey toned chest showing. His hair was tousled, as though he had been running his fingers through it. He was toned yet lean, his chest peeked out from the unbuttoned shirt. He was her possible new employer? Was he married? Divorced? Widowed? She slowly stepped out of the car, her eyes locking on his as she approached him. The only thing she heard was her heart beating loudly in her own ears.

@beautifulseoulliar @lynnbyun @astronomyturtle @aspaceformyself  @trashkazuya @maxinaptak @micky1518 @rosiemilas @karri570

@seoulsunshineandstories @kwonnansi @xjamlessparkx @berryjam17

@kingsuckjin

[the-darkness-does-not-bargain]

Big God, part 3

And here’s the last piece of this angsty mess.  Please enjoy Catradora superhero suffering!

Part 1 Part 2

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17638580/chapters/42028049

Part 3: Sunflower (I think your love would be too much)

She met Adora in middle school, 6th grade to be exact.  She had been paired with Catra for a math worksheet on their fourth day of school.  Catra had been a bit of an obnoxious punk at the time, she can admit that now.  But Adora had been unfazed by her hawkishness, smiling brightly at Catra’s scowls and ignoring her bad attitude.  She treated her in a way no one really had before, with friendliness and a genuine desire for closeness.  They bonded over Catra’s mother and Adora’s shitty foster parents, trading stories and secrets with an honesty that both were unfamiliar with. Catra hadn’t a clue what to make of Adora at the time, but when the openness and kindness didn’t stop as it had so often in the past, she finally started to get it.

Adora is a good person, a genuine, caring girl who’s always eager to help others if she’s able to.  She never turns away from suffering or injustice, instead always searching for some way to fix things.  Even when she messes up, she just tries to be better.  She tries and tries and tries and never considers quitting even when it’s the obviously smart move.

Catra isn’t like that.  She’s never been a good person, no matter what Adora might say, and she doesn’t claim to be.  Catra is her mother’s daughter, and she hates that more than anything.  She grew up knowing that the world was just a gaping maw filled with saw-blade teeth waiting for you to fall into it.  She was determined to never fall.  Was determined.

She was 23 when she took the role of Boss from her mother, who had decided to retire on the sunny private islands of Salineas with little more than a note to her daughter.  Catra had stepped up to the plate, and with a little help, managed not only to keep the Horde functioning but took them to new heights her mother had been too cautious to reach for.  Adora was finishing her certifications to be a personal trainer at the time.  Catra signed the papers to purchase Half-Moon on the same day as their two-year anniversary, in fact shortly before she left to meet Adora for their dinner reservation. She-Ra was sighted stopping a mugging five days later, her first public appearance.

Their first confrontation wasn’t until a full year after that, with Catra lumbering around in a roughshod prototype of her Tigress armor, the first design Entrapta had made for her.  It ended with Catra in the hospital lying to the doctors that her broken wrist and shoulder-to-ankle bruising were from a bad fall.  Adora had been so worried, keeping her virtually on house arrest until she was healed.  10 short months after that was their most destructive battle to date, which saw the two of them demolishing a condemned parking garage.  Literally.  They tackled each other through the concrete support beams and barely escaped before the structure collapsed on top of them.  But Adora took a flight to Plumeria early the next morning, and they didn’t see each other until a full week after their injuries were healed.

She tries to think of how many times they came close to discovering the truth.  How many times did the façade nearly fall away? How long have they been dancing a jig on this tightrope of mutual anonymity?

“Boss?”

It’s enough to make your head explode, thinking about it.  Was Adora lying every time she said she got hurt “in sparring”?  Just like Catra lied about “breaking up bar fights” at Half-Moon?

“Boss.”

And what about all the nights when Adora was the one getting home at weird hours instead of Catra?  She’s never had reason to question those before.  Was Adora just wandering the city as She-Ra looking for crimes to thwart?  Was she jumping across rooftops and punching burglars in the face every time she failed to answer Catra’s calls?

“Catra!”

She jumps, she’ll admit it.  She’ll also admit that she probably looks a little deranged when she meets Scorpia’s concerned expression.  “What is it?” Her voice is cutting, harsh.  It shouldn’t be, this isn’t Scorpia’s fault.  But Catra’s on edge, hanging from the edge more like, and her self-control is wavering.

“We’ve put the prisoner where you asked.  She’s secure,” Scorpia says, her own tone carefully neutral.  Scorpia is well-experienced in handling her sharp edges and sandpaper moods.  Catra would feel shame about that, if she could even contain any more negative emotions right now.

That being said, she softens her next words.  “Thank you for doing that.”

Scorpia smiles at her, like she understands.  “It’s no problem, boss.”  She reaches out to rest a hand on Catra’s shoulder, squeezing it. “I’ll be right down the hall,” she says, and the words are weighted with meaning that Catra can’t process right now, so she doesn’t.  Scorpia walks away, and she is left alone to deal with herself, a hideous and frightful predicament.

She runs a careless hand through her hair.  It catches in tangles from the battle she hasn’t had time to brush out.  Her hairbrush is still back at the apartment.  Shit, what the hell is she going to do about the apartment?  There’s still blood and puke and broken glass and overturned furniture.  The place is a damn wreck; are they going to lose their deposit?  What if someone calls the cops to the building because they heard the window break? Should she send soldiers to watch the place, rough up anyone who starts making noise?  A memory of Adora, smiling in amusement, flashes through her mind.  We’ve only just moved in, babe, don’t scare the neighbors.

“Fuck…” She digs her nails into her arm, hard.  “Snap out of it!  You’ve got shit to do.”  She stares down the long, sterile white hallway to the dark wooden door at the very end.  She winces, and looks away again.  Call Entrapta first.  That’s what matters now.

She gets out her phone, walking further and further away from that door until she’s found a quiet enough place to think.  She dials.

“Hi boss!”  That’s Entrapta for you, cheerful as always.  “I heard you captured She-Ra, good job!  Don’t take this the wrong way, but I was reeeeally hoping you wouldn’t actually kill her.  Would you let me take---?”

Catra cuts her off before she can, doubtless, ask to collect samples from Adora.  “Entrapta,” she says firmly.  “I need some information about that virus you made.” Her voice is steadier than she is. It’s acceptable.  She’ll take fake composure over nothing any day.

“Oh?  Sure, what would you like to know?”

“Is it temporary?  That is, will its effects wear off eventually?”

“Hmm, yes,” Entrapta says, sounding a little sheepish. “Sadly, it only delays her healing factor like I said before.  She-Ra’s immune system will eventually eradicate the infection.  If I knew more about her powers I could probably improve it but…”

“No.” It’s half a shout, and she smacks a hand against her forehead, the way her mother might have done when Catra was a kid.  “I mean, don’t worry about that now.  How long until the effects wear off?”

She hears the bustle of a rolling desk chair and some soft button clicking as though from something small, a calculator perhaps.  “Well… given the time of initial infection, the virus’s specialized antigens, and She-Ra’s especially effective immune response, oh the things I’d give to be able to study her unique immunoglobulins and amazing T cytotoxic cells…”

“The point,” Catra says, resisting the urge to snap again.

“Oh, sorry!  Her body should already be neutralizing the infection.  I’d say she’ll be back to her full strength in just under three hours.  Though her injuries won’t fully heal for approximately five hours.  We… might want to do something about her before then,” she adds.

“Thanks, Entrapta.”  She hangs up without another word.  She can’t help but bask in the feeling of a thousand-ton weight being lifted off her chest.  The virus is temporary.  Adora will live.  Adora will heal.  There’s still hop---

But she cuts that thought off.  This situation is still much too hellish and catastrophic to consider such things now.

She stands, as steadily as she can, tucking her phone in her pocket.  She ignores, ignores, ignores that little box, even though it feels like it’s going to burn through her leg.  There is no time for any of that, none of it.  She’s let herself be far too much a coward tonight, but no more.  It’s time.

 Well, she says it’s time, but it still takes upwards of fifteen minutes to psyche herself up.  She’s back in that hallway again, and she’s forcing herself to take deep breaths, think calm thoughts and all that.  It’s… well, it’s not doing shit, quite frankly, but she keeps trying.

Adora is chained up in Catra’s secondary office. She couldn’t bear to order her placed in the cells beneath the base.  So, she’s in the office, behind that dark door, bound to a metal chair that they hastily bolted to the floor upon arrival.  Her broken arm, still immobile, is free.  Catra trusts Entrapta’s words about the virus’s effects fading, but she could never live with herself if she knowingly put the love of her life in such a painful position for no reason.

Her hand shakes as it goes to grip the door knob. She’s already on the verge of losing it again, breathing exercises be damned, and this is the best she can do to contain the frantic energy radiating outward from her pounding heart.  The mask is on because… because she doesn’t know why, it just is.  Wearing it has never felt so suffocating, so claustrophobic.

If she lets her vision go unfocused, she can see the glowing red eyes of the Tigress glaring back at her.  They make demands of her, give orders.  They tell her to destroy the enemy.  She blinks, swallows.  She opens the door and steps inside.

Adora is awake, groggy but conscious.  Those big gray-blue eyes latch onto her immediately and glare, doing their level best to kill Catra where she stands.  She almost walks out again.

“Tigress,” Adora snaps, in a pretty good impression of a real tiger, Catra notes absently.  “What have you done this time?  Where is Catra?”  Hearing her own name has never filled her with such dread, not even from the lips of her wretched mother.  Catra trembles with it, as the knot in her throat threatens to asphyxiate her.  “I swear to Eternia, Tigress, if you’ve hurt her…”

She can’t do it.  Five seconds is all it takes for her resolve to break.  There’s no calming thoughts or fake composure left to muster. She can’t do this.  Her fingers are clumsy as they disengage her helmet.  It takes two tries, but she removes it and holds it in her hands for a long moment. She stares at the beast’s face because it’s honestly the easiest place to look. Then, she lets it drop to the floor with a heavy clunk.  And there is silence.

She isn’t sure, exactly, how many seconds pass before she can summon what’s left of her threadbare courage and finally meet her lover’s stare. But she does meet it, only to immediately wish she hadn’t.

Because the shock on Adora’s face nearly drives Catra to claw her own eyes out, just to distract from the burning, twisting, tearing sensation in her chest.

“Catra?”

She shudders.  Hearing the confusion and almost childlike astonishment in Adora’s voice isn’t dissimilar from being drowned in ice water.  Catra knows.

“Yeah… yeah, that’s me,” she says, and every word is a battle.  She desperately needs to do something with her hands, lest their trembling set her entire body vibrating.  She shoves them in her pockets.

“What is…?  Why are you here?”  She watches Adora’s mouth to avoid looking in her eyes again.  That pretty jaw moves up and down as her love flounders.  She wonders if the truth is putting her world in an incinerator the way it did for Catra.

“Because I brought you here,” Catra says.  The words sound absurd.  Brought?  Kidnapped, more like, the dictionary definition of abduction.  Gods, she’s such a bastard.  The feelings well up in her chest; stupidity, guilt, fear.  She doesn’t want this.  “I own this place.  I’m the leader here.”

“I don’t understand.”

Unexpectedly, Catra laughs.  It isn’t the slightest bit funny, except in the cosmic sense of course, but this situation is so royally fucked that she can hardly respond any other way. “Y-you don’t understand?  It seems pretty obvious to me!”  She feels crazy.  Fresh tears burn her eyes and she roughly rubs them away.  “It’s crystal fucking clear.”  She knows the break coming, she’s right at the edge of it.

Adora swallows.  “Catra,” she says carefully.  “What is this?”

Catra snorts, a bitter noise.  “What, this?”  She indicates the room.  “Or this?” She points at herself, Adora, and the ocean’s worth of shit that now stands between them.  “This,” she says to the room at large, manic, “is a base in my sprawling criminal enterprise. And this,” her voice breaks as she turns back.  “Is my life falling apart right in front of me.  Do you get it now?”

“Catra…”

“I mean, Eternia’s sake, we must be living in a tv show, right?  It’s all working out so dramatically.  This is the moment when I get my poetic comeuppance for my misdeeds.  My fucking karma!”  She kicks the helmet at her feet and sends it flying into the opposite wall with a bang! “Isn’t it?” She whispers, the mania and rage gone as quickly as they arrived, leaving her cold.

“Catra.” Is she angry?  It’s hard to tell.  Adora’s always had this teacher’s expression, stern and unyielding but enigmatic. Catra thinks it must work wonders on her students, and she does not like that it’s being directed at her now.  “Explain this to me.”

Catra releases a shaky exhale.  “There really isn’t that much to explain, Adora.”

“I will be the judge of that.”  

“Fine, fine.  I’m… Tigress.  It’s me. It’s been me from the start.”

“You?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

Catra blinks.  Um… “What do you mean how?”

Adora frowns deeply.  Oh, now she’s angry.  “I mean, how is it that you, Catra, my girlfriend, are the…” she huffs incredulously.  “Leader of a bloodthirsty crime syndicate that’s been terrorizing Bright Moon for years?  How is that possible?”

She bristles at that, she really does.  Bloodthirsty?  It’s not that she ignores or is oblivious to the dark nature of her work, far from it, but it also isn’t as though she’s sending people to shoot up pre-schools.  Adora is making it sound like she regularly orders her soldiers to drown puppies or something.

“How do you think, Adora?  It was forced on me.  You know my heartless bitch of a mother, what do you think she did for a living?”

“I knew she was a monster but I didn’t think you’d ever follow in her footsteps!”

Catra recoils.  “Follow in her… How dare you!” How could she say something like that?  She bares her teeth like some kind of animal.  Like a Tigress.  “I didn’t choose this, Adora, I was born into it!  And things are a damn sight better now than they ever were under her!”

“Better? Catra, you’ve got the whole city terrified!”

“And why shouldn’t they be?”  Catra retorts.  “If they’re scared, then they won’t get in the way and get hurt.”

“That’s what you’re taking from that?”  She rolls her eyes so hard she might injure her neck.  “Not only that, but you’re taking kids off the streets and turning them into weapons!”

“You make it sound like I’m conscripting them!  I offered them food, shelter, and security in exchange for work, and all of them had the choice to say no.  They said yes.  I gave them a job.”

“It is not the same thing, Catra, and you know it!”  She looks over at the mask where it sits on the far side of the room.  “And that,” she practically spits.  “Did you have someone build that suit just so you could fight me?”

“I didn’t know it was you!”

“Regardless, you went to the trouble of building that monstrosity just to protect yourself from the consequences of your crimes.  And then you kidnap me from our home and drag me to wherever the hell this is, and I don’t even know how you managed that, I mean, what was it?  Did you hit me?  No, it couldn’t have been that…” A moment of furious thought.  “Was it the apple juice?  Gods, did you drug me?”

“Yes!  Alright, yes, I did all of that!  Is that what you want to hear?”  Catra throws her hands up into the air.  “What the fuck else was I supposed to do?”

“Well, you could have told me the truth, for one thing!”  Adora snaps.

“Oh really?  Oh really?  And how would you have reacted any differently if I told you then what I’ve told you now?”

“I would have forgiven you!”

The words are so unexpected they leave her dumbstruck. “W-what?”

Adora’s sigh is sharp with frustration, of all things.  Some of the anger fades from her face, replaced by grief.  The raw emotion contorts her face, and now there are new tears in her lovely eyes.  “I would have forgiven you.  Of course I would.  I love you, I would have helped you, we could have…” she casts her gaze wildly around the room.  “No, I still can.”  She looks at Catra imploringly.  “Catra, please, let me go.  We can still fix this.”

“Fix this?” Eternia, she sounds so stupid right now. “How?”

“Let me go,” Adora pleads softly, her voice shaking. “And we can both get out of here. Please, love.  I forgive you, just let me out of these chains so we can go home.”

“You forgive me…”  Her hands move almost of their own accord, reaching, reaching out to cup Adora’s face so gently, like they’ve never done it before.  Like maybe they never will again.  Adora, for her part, leans into Catra’s touch, watching her all the while.

There’s too much blood in the kiss; blood and salt. They coat her tongue, but she just pushes closer.  She needs this like an addict, and she knows Adora is just the same by how fervently she reciprocates.  It doesn’t last long enough, not nearly long enough, but Adora compensates by pressing her lips to Catra’s chin, letting them linger there warmly, the sweetest balm.

Being close to Adora like this, Catra can see it all behind her eyelids.  She can see the idyllic future promised by Adora’s words and lips and eyes and warmth. She sees them cleaning up their apartment, putting all of this bullshit behind them.  She sees herself going legit and buying them a house out in the Whispering Woods with clean money.  One kid, two dogs, a cat… school tuition and soccer games… rocking chairs and a picket fence, birthdays, milestones, anniversaries, and growing old.  She can see all of it.  She wants it so badly that the need might just kill her.

But then her vision darkens until she can’t see any of those things.  Instead, it’s the betrayal on the faces of her soldiers, their hurt and anger and fear as she abandons them.  All those people, her people, who rely on her leadership and who have served her faithfully all this time.  Catra’s never cared much for duty or honor and other such nebulous concepts, but she does care about her people.  She can’t leave… she can’t do something like that to them.

Adora is whispering such tender things against her skin, reassurances and affirmations she can only partially comprehend.  It’s enticement, temptation.  It makes her hope, and that’s honestly the worst thing.

“You know what they say about hope.”  Her mother’s words, words that were never directed at Catra but that sting her with the same ferocity.

“Maybe… maybe.”  She pulls back just a bit because she won’t be able to think with Adora kissing her.  Her eyes linger, because of course they do, on her lover’s achingly familiar mouth, seeing where the blood has smeared.  She wonders if her lips and chin are red.  “Maybe,” she repeats, reaching for the last possibility there is for them, as far as she sees it.  Catra is sure she sounds like she’s begging; hell, she is begging.  “You stay. Here with me, you stay,” she says. She touches Adora’s face, traces her bone structure with tentative fingers.  “You can help me, help us.  We-we can be better, I know it.  They aren’t bad people, Adora, really.  If you stayed, you could make them better, like you made me better.  Please.”  It can happen.  She knows they can do it.  She can do anything with Adora at her side.

Her plea hangs in the air.  They are so close, just inches apart.  She wills that the words will reach from her heart to Adora’s.  Such a small space to cross, surely they will.  Surely…

“Catra.” Adora says her name like it’s ripping her up inside. “Catra… you know I can’t do that.”

Oh.

“It breeds eternal misery.”

Adora doesn’t pull away from her touch, but what need is there of that when her words have put the bloody continent between them.

Slowly, Catra straightens.  Her hands fall away.  “Ah,” she whispers.  Her voice sounds dead, even to her own ears.  “I see.” Well… in that case…

“Catra?  What are you doing?”  She walks across the room to pick up the mask.  “Catra, unlock these chains.”  There’s desperation now, no more authoritative façade.  “Catra!”

“No.”

“What?”

Her fingers tighten around the helmet until they ache.  Louder, she repeats, “I said no.”

“Catra, you can’t just keep me here, let me go!”

“No!”  It’s a roar, a shout that’s almost inhuman.  She’s quivering with anger, with fury and desolation that light her blood on fire.  She turns back to Adora with thunder in her chest.  “I am not letting you go!  I am not helping you abandon me!”

“Catra!” Adora cries.  “That’s not what this is!  Please, stop! You’re not thinking---”

“Get comfortable, Adora,” she snarls as she turns away.  “You aren’t going anywhere.”

“Catra!” She ignores the call, and storms out of the room.

 The dark wooden door slams shut behind her, and she wastes no time stalking back down the hallway, as fast as she dares without running. There’s a scream in her throat begging to be released; it vibrates her frame with its intensity.  Her head is spinning.  Right down into hell, she thinks.

Her footsteps are embarrassingly loud, but there’s little she can do about it. She has to get away, doesn’t matter where, just as long as it’s far away from that room and that infuriating, traitorous, heart-stabbing woman. She keeps walking without paying much attention to her exact surroundings, which is, well, dumb, as she soon discovers when she slams face first into someone’s broad back.

Cursing and clutching her throbbing nose, she steps back, squinting up at the person she just smashed into.

“Oh, hi boss!” Scorpia. Of course.  Who else?

She sighs.  “Scorpia.”

Her lieutenant is looking at her closely.  It gives Catra a bad feeling.  “What?”

“Hmm?  Oh, nothing.” Liar!  “You know, boss, if you aren’t busy right now, why don’t you come with me to visit Entrapta?”

It’s framed as a question, a suggestion, but Catra knows it’s as firm an order as any she’s ever given.  It puts her back up.  “Why?” She asks, a little petulantly.

“She mentioned she’s been working on some new tech.  I figured we could go see it.  Plus!”  Scorpia makes no secret of observing Catra’s red-stained, tear-streaked face.  “It could be relaxing.  It can get so busy and stressful up here, ya know?”  It’s a ruse, it’s so obvious, but…

“Fine.”  Scorpia beams at her agreement, taking Catra by the hand and pulling her the rest of the way to the elevator.  Catra tolerates it.  Entrapta’s lab is good enough to be far away from Adora.

The aforementioned scientist is buried in blueprints when they enter the lab.  Scorpia stands back after Catra walks past her, and she locks the door behind them.  Entrapta looks up at the noise.

“Oh. Hi Catra!  Hi Scorpia!  Did you need something?”  Her inquisitive red eyes take in the two of them, and they linger on Catra’s mess of a face.

“Hey, ‘Trapta.  Boss here needs to get away from the bustle upstairs.  Do you mind if we talk in here?”  Scorpia’s really good at the “phrasing things that aren’t requests as requests” thing.  If Catra could summon any of her higher faculties right now, she’d make a mental note to remember that.

She isn’t sure Entrapta gets the subtext, but it makes no difference.  “Sure!” She says happily.  “You can talk as long as you want.”  She takes out a small remote from her work apron and hits a button on it.  The room suddenly gets quieter.  Catra hadn’t noticed the soft whirring sound of running computers until it was gone.  “In total privacy!” Entrapta adds with a proud smile.

“Thanks, Entrapta.  You don’t have to go,” Scorpia says, as she leans against one of the various work tables covered in robot parts.  Then she turns to address Catra, who has been dreading this moment.  “Ok, Catra, what’s going on?  Something’s very wrong here, and you better fess up.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Catra spits, but the venom she tries to inject is weak.

“Well, let’s look at the clues,” Scorpia says, brushing off her pathetically transparent harshness.  She holds up a hand and starts to count off her fingers.  “You call me, out of the blue, saying you’ve captured She-Ra.  Not killed, as you said you would do at the start of today, but captured.”  One finger down.  “You tell me to meet you with one of the vans at your address in the New East.”  Another finger down.  “When I get there, you’re sitting in a dirty alleyway with She-Ra, injured and unconscious but alive, lying on top of a blanket next to you.  You say nothing about it, just have me drag her into the back of the van and restrain her.”  Third finger down.  “You tell me, and I quote, ‘watch her arm, it’s broken’.  You specifically order me to leave the busted arm free.”  Ring finger down.  “You say nothing on the ride to base except to insist on sitting in the back of the van with the prisoner, and all you do the entire time is stare at her like a sad kitten.”

“Are you getting to the point anytime soon?” Catra growls softly, letting herself fall into one of Entrapta’s many assorted desk chairs.  Scorpia ignores her.

“You put her in your office, instead of the perfectly secure cells just a few floors below.  You make Rogelio and Kyle bolt down a chair from the cadets’ lounge, ruining the hardwood you insisted on having when this place was built.”  She has to switch to her other hand.  “You set no guards at the door.  You do nothing, in fact, except tell everyone that you’ll personally execute them if they even peek in that room.”  Catra can’t stand the ticking fingers, but she finds herself captive to Scorpia’s words, like she’s watching a plane crash.  Sounds about right, she thinks miserably.  “You go into the room wearing your mask, only to storm out not wearing it after several minutes of shouting.  Your face is a mess, you’ve been crying, and you were so caught up in whatever had just happened that you, you, Catra the Tigress, didn’t notice me standing right there in the hallway.”  Scorpia pauses, recounting her fingers dramatically as if trying to make sure she hasn’t missed anything.  Bitch…  “Oh, I almost forgot the last one.  You can’t lie to us.”  She finally drops her hands, crossing them over her chest.  “So come clean now before I have to shake the truth out of you.”  She pulls out an honest-to-Grayskull handkerchief from her pants and hands it to Catra.  “And wipe your face.”

Catra winces, partially because she knows the threat is not an idle one, and also because she knows Scorpia is right.  She takes the handkerchief and roughly rubs at her cheeks, sighing.  She really needs to sleep.

What should she say?  What can she say?  Scorpia and Entrapta, of all her soldiers, deserve the truth the most.  But… Adora’s face, smiling through blood and tears, keeps flashing in her head.  Even though Adora refused her, even though she’s trying to leave Catra, the thought of putting her at risk is nauseating.  Fuck.

Scorpia’s stare is unyielding.  Entrapta has abandoned her blueprints to watch the two of them with wide, curious eyes.

“Shit, fine, but…” She looks at Entrapta.  She has to be sure.  “You turned off all the cameras?”

The scientist nods fervently.  “And all the listening devices!  The walls are soundproofed too, so no outside sound tech can listen in.”

“Alright.” Catra swallows, clears her throat.  “What I’m about to say cannot leave this room, not a single word, not a syllable.  This conversation didn’t happen.  Do you both understand?”

Scorpia’s expression softens.  “Of course we do, Catra.”

“Okay.” She exhales shakily, gripping her knees tightly to stop her hands from trembling.  “So…” Gods, but it’s hard.  Vocalizing the truth is very different from thinking it, a much more daunting battle, and she’s fought damn well enough of those tonight. “You know that I… have a girl, outside the business.”

“Huh?  Oh yeah, what’s her name?  Adora, right?”  Catra nods. “So is this something about her?” Catra gives Scorpia a loaded look. She glances up at the ceiling, gripping her leg so hard that her knuckles crack unexpectedly.  Scorpia follows her gaze, confused, but then… “Oh.  Oh!”

“Yeah,” Catra says softly.

“By Eternia…” Scorpia places a hand on her own cheek, eyes wide with the realization.  Then she looks back at Catra, sympathetic to the point of pity.  “Jeez, boss, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well…”

“What?  Well what?!”  Catra, shamefully, had forgotten about Entrapta’s presence.  The little genius looks worried and confused, her eyes darting between Catra and Scorpia.  “Oh, you know I don’t get it when you guys do that silent talking thing.  What’s wrong with Adora?”

“’Trapta,” Scorpia says, putting a soothing hand on the woman’s shoulder.  “Sorry, we forgot.  The truth is… that Adora is She-Ra.”

Hearing the words aloud makes Catra flinch, but that’s nothing compared to Entrapta’s reaction.

“She’s… Adora is She-Ra?”  She steps away from Scorpia, and several emotions---none of them good---pass over her face.  Shock, confusion, fear, and biggest of all, guilt. “But that’s… I-I didn’t know that, I. But if she’s She-Ra, then the virus! Oh, oh no!”  Her hands clap over her own ears, her nails digging into her skin, and she starts to breathe heavily.

Catra stands in alarm, but Scorpia beats her to the punch.  She’s always known how best to handle Entrapta when she gets upset like this.  She gently but firmly pulls the scientist’s hands away from her ears, talking in a calm, soothing manner.  “Hey, hey, hey.  It’s okay, ‘Trapta.  Just take a deep breath with me, okay?  Deep breaths. In… and out… You can do it.  Adora is going to be fine.  You said it yourself.  She’s going to heal.  It’s all fine.  In… and out…” Catra looks around the room for anything that it might.  She spots the old-fashioned tape recorder Entrapta likes to keep on her and grabs it.

“Hey, ‘Trapta, Scorpia is right,” she says, mirroring the woman’s calm tone.  “Here, take this.”  She gently presses the device into Entrapta’s hand, which closes tightly around it.  Tearful red eyes turn to look at her.

“Sh-she’s going to be okay?”

“Yeah, ‘Trapta, she’s going to be perfectly fine.  Take another deep breath with us.  In… and out.”  Catra and Scorpia fall in sync, breathing in an exaggerated fashion for Entrapta’s benefit.

It takes a minute, but she does begin to calm down, clutching the familiar device and following their steady breathing.

Catra can’t say she’s surprised by what’s just happened.  Really, she should have known better than to drop the truth on Entrapta without more warning, but she hadn’t been thinking.  Entrapta likes Adora, had liked her since high school. Adora has always been kind to her, something that couldn’t be said of many of their classmates.  Entrapta might not understand the finer points of social interaction but she’s always known who her real friends are and how to care for them. The thought of hurting any of them would surely be agonizing.

“You’re sure?” She asks Catra again.  “Even after what…?”

Catra gulps, hearing the words Entrapta can’t speak. “She’s going to heal,” she says simply.  She can’t promise anything else, so she won’t.

It’s quiet between the three of them for a moment.  But out of the corner of her eye, Catra sees several of Entrapta’s computer screens light up red.  Just a second later, a loud, beeping alarm sounds throughout the entire lab.  Entrapta spins around, already back in action, running over to one of the many monitors.

“Uh oh!” She says, furiously typing.

“What is it?” Scorpia asks, leaning over her shoulder to look.

“My security systems just registered a big problem.  Or more specifically, 54 medium-to-large problems with guns who are currently attacking the building!”

“What!”  Catra jumps over the table blocking her path and braces herself on the back of Entrapta’s chair to get a good look at the screen.  Sure enough, right outside their front door is half a platoon of gun-toting thugs, firing on their door guards who are struggling to hold their ground.  Damn, what else could possibly make this night worse?  She meets Scorpia’s gaze over Entrapta’s head.  “We need to get up there now.”

“Wait!” Entrapta says, jumping to her feet.  “You can’t go up there now, you both need weapons! Come with me.”

“Entrapta, we don’t have time---”

“You two don’t have any protection!  You don’t even have guns!  But I’ve been working on several new designs and I’ve assembled a prototype that should dramatically unbalance the playing field.  I’ve also added some upgrades to your suit, Catra, since you brought it back earlier.”  She heads straight to a set of double doors towards the back of the lab, throwing open to reveal…

“’Trapta, have I ever told you you’re the best girl I know?” Scorpia asks as she stares, open-mouthed.

Entrapta turns to regard them with an ear-to-ear grin.  “No, but you could start now!”

  “Entrapta really is the best!” Scorpia says jubilantly as she backhands some loser with a giant metal pincer.  Said loser goes flying, bouncing off the wall and crumpling in a heap.  Catra almost smiles at that as she slashes her claws across her respective opponent’s throat, ripping through the gray and green insignia tattooed there.  Hordak’s thugs, she growls to herself.  When it rains, it fucking floods.  Hordak was an old enemy, older than Catra herself.  He and her mother had fought for years over territory in Bright Moon and its surrounding counties, neither claiming much victory despite many deaths.  Her mother had been too wary to push forward and Hordak never had the right resources to mount a proper takeover. So mostly they had harassed each other, and Catra, to her annoyance, inherited that harassment.  

Ordering a direct assault on a Horde compound is out of character for him, but she can’t puzzle out his motivations right now.  She and Scorpia drop their enemies one by one until there’s none left in outside the stairwell.  They advance with haste, charging out into the hallway by Catra’s office.  Her heart skips a beat when she sees that the door has been shot open, and there’s half a dozen goons now aiming at them.  “Scorpia, take the right!” She commands as she pounces with a bestial scream at the one standing right in front of the door.

“What the f---!  Agh-glk!” Is all he manages to say before he doesn’t have vocal cords left to speak with.  Catra throws him aside like a ragdoll and rushes through the open doorway.

There’s two in here, and both have guns aimed at Adora, who is struggling fiercely with her restraints, righteous anger and fear evident on her face.  At Catra’s entrance, the two get distracted, and she doesn’t give them a second chance.  She taps the new button built into the palm of her gauntlet, and power surges through her whole arm.  She gets the first one with a hammer fist directly to the back of the neck.  There’s a loud pop! and he crumples to the floor dead.  The second can’t even shift his gun before she knocks it from his hand and grabs him by throat.  She takes his head and slams it into the wall, feeling it give way with a splattering of blood.

She can hear Scorpia taking down the rest.  Breathing heavily from the exertion, she turns to face Adora again. She thinks she must really look the part of the evil villain now, the blood-soaked Tigress with freshly butchered prey at her feet.

But Adora isn’t looking at her the way she should.  There’s no revulsion or horror.  She is surprised, nervous, but most of all she is… relieved?

“Catra,” she breathes.  “You came back.”

Of course I came back. What does she think…  Catra shakes her head roughly, looking away to get her thoughts together.

She’s stuck again, for the nth fucking time.  She can’t let Adora go, but Adora will be in too much danger if she stays here.  Catra doesn’t know how the battle is faring in the other sections of the base, and she needs to be there, fighting alongside her soldiers.  But if any of those bastards circle back to here…

“Damn it,” she growls, slamming a fist against the wall.

“Catra?”

“Shut up, Adora.”  She bangs her fist again.  Damn it, damn it, damn it.  I can’t let her go.  I won’t let her leave me like this.  Another voice, that’s hers but not hers, retorts, You must.  

She can’t leave.  What am I going to do without her?                 She will die if she stays.  Do you want that?

She gasps, remembering how it felt in that one horrible second back in their home, when she thought Adora was dead by her hand.  She shudders.

“Catra?”

“Is your arm healing?” She asks, and she’s once again glad for the voice distortion in her helmet.

“What?  Uh, it’s better?  I can move it now, a bit.”

“Okay, okay,” she whispers, mostly to herself.  “F… fine.”

“Catra?  Catra,wait!”  The sound of metal cutting metal sings in the air.  In the moment of ensuing silence, the chains, shredded to bits in an instant, slowly fall to the floor.  Adora is frozen still, glancing from herself to Catra, who doesn’t say anything.  She stands, slowly and a little wobbly, but she steps away from the chair and towards Catra.  With her good arm, she reaches out.  “Catra…”

But her hand is knocked aside.  “Don’t.  Just… get out of here, before they come back.”

“Come with me,” she pleads once more, stepping closer despite Catra’s command.

“I can’t,” she snaps.  Softer, “But if you’re so eager to leave, then go while you have the chance.  I have a gang fight to win.”

She’s grateful for the mask now as she turns away.  It hides her pitiful expression.

Scorpia is already advancing on the next area, the cadets’ lounge, when Catra walks back into the hallway.  She doesn’t look back to see if Adora follows her.  Even if she wants to.

Several of her soldiers are fighting bravely when she joins the fray. She sees Kyle covering Lonnie as she runs like a linebacker to tackle a woman twice her size.  Scorpia might as well be bowling with the way she’s effortlessly throwing boxes and chairs to take out whole groups of Hordak’s men.  Rogelio has ducked behind an overturned steel table, taking quick, individual shots that nonetheless mow down the gunners outside of anyone else’s reach.  Catra wastes no time vaulting the table he’s using and charging straight for a more heavily armed thug who’s keeping the rest of her men pinned down with machine gun fire.  He turns the gun on her, but she barely feels the bullets’ impact through her armor.

“Fucking bitch!” He snarls at her as she closes in.  He turns his grip on his weapon to slam the butt of it into the side of her face.  His eyes go wide when she doesn’t even bend.

“Dumbass,” she says, in a much more impressive tone before snapping his neck without another word.

Through the cacophony of gunfire surrounding her, she hears shouting from above.  When she’d had this place built, she’d installed a walkway overlooking the cadets’ lounge and sealed off by glass, where her captains could watch their trainees. She turns her gaze upward now, and sees more of Hordak’s henchmen there.  There’s a flash of brilliant blue light, and one of them goes flying with half the skin on his chest burned off.  He hits the floor screaming just as She-Ra, in her shining glory, steps into view.

Even while still seriously injured, Adora is more than a match for hapless mooks.  Catra watches from the corner of her eye, and she can count the bodies falling like heavy sacks.  The Sword is out and swinging, and she wields it gracefully with one hand like she never needed another.  Catra’s a little bit grateful that she doesn’t summon it often.

Her own fight hardly requires her full attention.  With the machine gunner down, she turns to the ones blocking the exit.  She activates her jet propulsion and shoots up into the air only to come down hard on the first one, crushing him underneath her feet.  She pivots like a master and drives her armored shin into the second one’s gut, sending the woman flying backward to smash through the glass doors.  Scorpia sends one of her own flying through the door right after.  Together with their soldiers at their side, it takes a negligible amount of effort to clear the rest of the room.

She wonders at that.  Hordak is sending his B team, hell, his C team by the look of it, and there must be a reason.

She loses sight of Adora as they advance.  Gulping to push down the burning knot in her throat, she moves on to the next area of the base.

Her suit is strong and her people are competent, but numbers still count, and Hordak definitely had the numbers.  It takes nearly ten minutes---a long time in a fight---to push back their advance and start to funnel them back out of the building.  She passes the bodies of her fallen troops and tries not to look at them.  She has to focus on vengeance now.  Mourning and grief---for so many things---will have to wait until she’s won.

The fighting spills out onto the roof as the Horde forces their enemies into retreat.  Scorpia and her cadets are securing the lower floors, and now she fights alone.  Her opponents may be the last of Hordak’s goons but it seems they’re also the toughest.  Seven of them, all skilled in pack tactics and dogpiling; her suit softens the worst of their blows but they keep coming.  This isn’t good.  Even the Tigress has trouble with too many enemies at once.

She doesn’t let them know that though, punching, kicking, and clawing with the same precision and ferocity as always.  Time and again she drives them back but they keep closing in. Punch, dodge, duck, headbutt, knee, block, kick, dodge.  It’s a frenetic dance, and not one she appreciates.  She’s too used to dancing with Adora on equal footing.

At one point she gets distracted, and it allows this hulking monster of a man to get his arms around her waist, pick her up, and body slam her onto the concrete.  The force knocks the wind out of her and she’s left gasping while he straddles her chest and tries to pull her helmet off.  She hits another button on her suit and pumps him full of electricity, but somehow, he holds on.  What?!

All she can do is pull at his hands as he tries to choke her with one and yank the mask off with the other.  She can’t get any air and he’s fumbling with the locks when suddenly there’s another bright blue flash followed bellowing cries from her foes.  The hand around her throat slackens and she wastes no time bucking her hips and unseating the man, grabbing him by his burning shirt and kneeing him in the groin as she tosses him behind her.

She rolls quickly to her feet, fists raised for more, but all she’s met with is a semi-circle of limp bodies covered in hideous burns.  She turns with wild eyes, searching…

Adora is on the roof across the street, standing tall, and glowing brightly enough to light up the area around her.  She’s staring at Catra, and she’s crying.  Catra wonders how either of them have any tears left, cursing how her own eyes water.

She knows what Adora is asking.  She’s still pleading for everything Catra can’t give her.  She remains silent, watching the woman who holds her heart in a vice grip, and doesn’t move.  She can’t leave, even for her.

Adora gets the message.  Her mouth twists and her eyes shut tight.  She wipes away her tears on the back of her hand.  And then she runs away, out of sight.

The battle is still raging below.  Catra turns away, trying not feel as if she’s teetering off a precipice, a pale white cliff she wishes would just fall into the sea.

[littleindigochildx]

I don’t wanna’ go alone

Savanna sat quietly in the back seat as she stared out the window. Victoria had picked her up early from school which rarely happened, especially without her brother who would be staying with Dora and Ted for a couple of hours.

“Mommy…”

A tiny voice broke the silence and Savvy made eye contact with her mother through the rear view mirror.

“I don’t wanna’ be here...”

She admitted. Savanna had always been forthcoming about how she was feeling. At least she had been until she lost her father. Sometimes she would confide in Timmy, but even that was rare now. She knew it was ok to be sad. She knew her family was just as sad as she was over their loss. David wasn’t a perfect man, but he was a good man, and he was an amazing dad. Nothing made him happier than seeing a smile on his children’s faces. Ransom and Dottie included. For all intents and purposes, they were his kids too.

“I wanna’ go home.”

Savanna added. She had never been a fan of going to the doctor which was ironic given the profession both of her parents had. She knew from Victoria that this wasn’t like her pediatrician. This was a different kind of doctor. This doctor was the kind who listened to people’s problems and tried to provide a solution. Hopefully before any irreversible damage was done.

“I know you want to go home, baby, but we can’t. Not yet.”

Victoria explained. She killed the engine and sat with her hands on the steering wheel for a moment. She remembered the first time she had gone to see a therapist...Dr. Larkin. She remembered how anxious and terrified she was to share her problems with a total stranger. She knew that Savanna probably felt the same way. What if she was broken beyond repair? What if the only way she got to leave was in a straight jacket, strapped to a gurney? The sadness in her voice was almost enough to make Victoria cancel the appointment, but she couldn’t. She was worried about her youngest. Much like David, all she wanted was to see her children happy...to hear them laugh again.

“I know this is scary for you, and I know you don’t like to talk about what’s bothering you��”

Victoria said once she got out of the car and opened the door to help Savanna out. The little girl wouldn’t budge, but she seemed to be hanging on her mother’s every word.

“Do you think you could do mommy a favor?”

She asked in a hopeful tone. Victoria was trying to stay calm even though she was internally freaking out just as much, if not more than Savvy was. She didn’t come by this decision easily. Out of all her children, Savanna was probably the last person she would have guessed would need therapy. She was so happy-go-lucky...or she used to be when David was still alive. This sudden personality change is why they were there. Victoria just wanted her happy little girl back.

“Do you think you could talk to this doctor for just a little while?”

She unbuckled the tiny brunette from her booster seat and helped her out of the car. Savanna held Victoria’s hand tightly. She wished more than anything she had Teddy with her.

----------

“Savanna Thorne?”

The receptionist called out when it was finally her turn. A friendly, but unfamiliar face appeared in the door just to the left of the check in desk. In her hand she held a clipboard containing a file that would hold all the notes from today’s session and all future sessions.

“Hi Savanna. I’m Doctor Emily.”

The blonde extended a hand but she wasn’t surprised when Savvy didn’t shake it. She liked to use her first name with younger children because she felt like it was less intimidating. It was also easier than her last name was for kids to say.

“Why don’t you come with me for a little while. I have some toys in my office that you can play with while we talk.”

Savvy froze in place.

“I don’t wanna’ go alone…”

The little one said as she clung to Victoria’s leg, but in order to get Savvy to open up, it was best to meet with her one-on-one. Victoria could watch them through a two-way mirror but she wouldn’t be permitted into the room until the hour was up.

“It’s ok, baby. I’ll be right here.”

Victoria smoothed the child’s hair and bent down to kiss her on the head. She was trying to hold it all together because she knew if she broke down in front of Savanna, that the little girl would break down too. This wasn’t supposed to be so hard and even though Savvy was bright, the concept of therapy was foreign to her.

----------

“Your mommy tells me you like to draw pictures.”

The woman pulled blank printer paper, crayons, and colored pencils out for Savanna to use. She set all the items on a small table in the corner of the room and invited Savvy to sit down with her.

“What kinds of things do you like to draw?”

The therapist started with simple questions to get to know the little girl. She would use those things later to get her to open up but right now they were taking baby steps.

“Animals? People? Flowers?”

The doctor continued until she finally got a response.

“My family.”

Savvy said softly as the blonde wrote some things down on her clipboard.

“Tell me about your family. Do you have any brothers and sisters? Any pets?”

The little brunette was silent again. She wouldn’t make eye contact and she addressed whatever questions she could with a simple shake of her head or a nod. They weren’t getting very far which the therapist expected, so she put her clipboard down.

“Tell you what...Why don’t we sit here and draw for a little...and when you’re ready to talk I’ll be here to listen.”

The woman picked up a blank piece of paper and a couple of crayons so she could draw too.

“I don’t wanna’ talk. I want mommy…”

Savvy replied honestly, her arm shielding her picture so the doctor couldn’t see it until it was finished. She worked best without an audience. Her picture would tell the blonde more about how she was feeling than words ever could and when she was finished she got up from the table to play with a puzzle instead.

“Are we all done now? Can I see mommy now?”

Savanna asked. Doctor Emily tried not to show her concern as she looked over the picture Savvy drew. It was a man strangling a woman which had to be something the child had seen before. The sound of her phone alarm signaled the end of their session so all the questions the blonde had would need to wait. This was a start though. Savanna had given her a direction to look in which meant there was still hope.

“Yes...Now we can go see your mommy.”

[abbygkane]

We only get better

This is my entry for Slackru’s September fluff challenge ( @slackru ). I decided to write about different situations in which our favorite couple ends up cuddling in S5. In the end, I settled on 12 drabbles.

I dedicate this to all the lovely people of the Kabby fandom and especially everyone who’s on the Kabbyfam Slack. I love you all <3

i. on  Clarke’s birthday

“Abby needs you.”

Marcus raises his head just as Niylah takes a seat across from him with a tray of food.

“I’m sorry?”

“Abby. She needs you,” the young woman explains while taking a sip of water.

Senses on high alert, Marcus tenses up before leaning closer.

“Why? Did something happen? Is she hurt? Is she okay?”

Just as he moves to rise from his seat, Niylah shakes her head and swiftly places a hand on his arm in order to calm him down. “Nothing happened, but I can tell that there’s something wrong. She seemed very withdrawn today.”

Frowning, Marcus gives her a nod. “Alright. Thank you for letting me know.”

Niylah shrugs, “No problem, I just thought you should know. Besides, I don’t like seeing her upset and you always know how to comfort her.”

Marcus can’t help but give the young woman a small smile. Shortly after Praimfaya, Abby had offered her a position in the infirmary and it doesn’t surprise him that Niylah enjoyed working there. Nor that she felt protective of Abby.

With a final nod, he gathers his nod and turns to leave the mess hall.

He passes some people on his way to the infirmary, but he merely gives them a friendly nod, not wanting to waste any more time. As he enters the room his eyes immediately find those of Jackson. The young man smiles before nodding towards Abby’s office, which is on the right of the infirmary and he spots the light that’s still on. The short distance is quickly crossed and just as he raises his hand to push the door open, he can hear faint sniffles.

Alarmed, Marcus gently opens the door. “Abby?”

She’s standing with her back towards the door and he noticed how she briefly tenses when the door opens, but relaxes at the sound of his voice.

Not waiting for a reply, Marcus walks towards her before sitting down on the side of the desk. He decides not to push, but to simply wait for her to start talking.

They both remain quiet, but after a while, Abby decides to break the silence.

“Today’s Clarke’s birthday,” she murmurs, her voice sounding hoarse. She turns her head towards him and Marcus can tell that she’s been crying. Her face is looking pale except for the skin around her eyes, which is swollen and slightly red.

At the pained look in her eyes, Marcus feels his heart break for her. Reaching out, he gently tugs on one of her hands, pulling her towards him until she’s resting between his legs. With a soft sigh, Abby willingly follows before linking her hands behind his neck. As she plays with the hairs at the nape of his neck, she rests her head against his chest, taking a step closer.

“I miss her,” she admits, her voice coming out very fragile and small.

Marcus wishes he could take away her pain and reunite her with her daughter, but all he can do is try to comfort her to the best of his abilities.

“I know you do love,” he whispers against her hair.

Abby doesn’t say anything, just holds him a little tighter against her.

“And I wish I could do something that’ll make you feel better,” he adds and he can feel her shaking her head in his embrace.

“You are making me feel better. Just being in your arms helps,” she replies.

Marcus simply starts to gently rub her back with one hand while tangling the other in her hair in order to comfort her some more. In response, Abby clings more firmly to him as the inevitable tears start to fall.

”I just want to hold her in my arms,” Abby manages to get up between sobs. “I can’t even remember if I told her that I loved her when we said goodbye. What if I didn’t? What if I didn’t tell her I love you?”

“I’m sure you did tell her Abby. And even if you didn’t, Clarke knows. She’s aware of how much you love her. And she loves you too. Trust me, love,” Marcus tells her in a soothing tone.

Abby lets her hands slide towards his chest so she can cling to his jacket, the sobs now wrecking her body. Comprehending that no words could possibly relieve her pain, Marcus continued to rub her back in comforting circles until the sobs have died down to an occasional sharp intake of breath.

After a couple of seconds, Abby draws back, her eyes red, as she tilts her head until their lips meet in a tender kiss. Marcus instinctively cups her face with both hands, wiping away any remaining tears. The kiss quickly turns desperate until it takes on a needy tone. The same tone he has come to expect whenever she felt sad or distraught as if she needed a reminder that he was still with her and would never leave. When they break away for air, she stays close by resting their foreheads against each other. As he opens his eyes and gazes at the way tears cling to her eyelashes Marcus is once more struck by Abby’s beauty. Even after crying, with red and swollen eyes, she’s still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

“I love you,” she mutters with her eyes still closed.

Moving his head so he can brush his lips against her forehead, Marcus replies, “Love you too.”

ii. when Marcus proposed

As he makes his way over to the infirmary, Marcus can’t help but nervously check his pocket with almost every step he takes, just to make sure that yes the box with the ring was still there. Feeling his heart pound in his chest, he dries his slightly sweaty palms by rubbing them against his pants before opening the door to the infirmary. This is the most nervous he has ever been and Marcus prays to whatever gods might listen that he won’t mess this up. Because this is too important, she means everything to him, so he has to get it right.

With a deep breath, he enters the room, giving Jackson a nod before making his way over to Abby’s office. The not so subtle thumbs up the young doctor gives him doesn’t do anything to calm his nerves. If anything it makes him feel more anxious because no matter how this evening will end, what her answer will be, everyone will know.

Well perhaps not everyone. But a lot of people. Some of whom carry weapons, are skilled assassins or have a medical degree. And they’ve all let him know that it’s in his best interest not to mess it up.

He alerts Abby of his presence by gently knocking on her office’s door and he has barely taken a step backward when the door’s thrown open and she appears with a broad smile on her face.

“Oh hi, you’ve got excellent timing Marcus, I just finished up here,” she exclaims before giving him a quick peck on the lips and hanging her doctor’s coat on the nearby chair.

He watches with a soft smile how she gives Jackson some final instructions and it hits him that in an hour there’s a possibility that she’ll be his fiancée.

Engaged

He, Marcus Kane, engaged to Abby Griffin.

The thought alone is enough to cause another wave of anxiety to crash over him. Subconsciously, he reaches into his jacket’s pocket as his fingers close over the wooden box.  

Good the ring was still there.

“So are you finally going to tell me what you’ve got planned for tonight?” Abby asks while slipping her arm through his as they start to make their way towards the exit of the infirmary.

“Now telling you would defeat the purpose of it being a surprise, don’t you think?” Marcus retorts with a grin, causing her to roll her eyes.

“Fine, have it your way then,” Abby retorts but he can tell that she isn’t really annoyed by the way she tucks herself closer to him.

Their walk passes in a comfortable silence and even though Abby gives him a side glance when they don’t take the stairs that’ll lead them to their room, she wordlessly follows him.

The longer they walk, the more nervous Marcus can feel himself starting to get. He was pretty sure he was sweating. It’s a miracle Abby hadn’t noticed it so far. After walking for a couple of minutes longer they finally come to a halt.

“The movie room?” Abby frowns.

“Uhm - yes. It’s just wanted for us have some time alone and - uh - I didn’t want to simply go to our room and since we’re living in a bunker with a lot of other people there really wasn’t a lot free space so I managed to make sure that this room would be free and -,” Marcus rambles, only to come to a halt when Abby starts to giggle.

“Oh, I’m sorry Marcus. I didn’t mean to laugh at you. This is sweet of you but you were kind of- “

“Rambling?” He sheepishly interjects, while scratching his beard to which she gives him an amused nod.

Leaning closer Abby tilts her head and pecks him on the lips. “Why don’t you show your surprise then?” She whispers against his mouth.

He takes a step backward and his haste to open the door, he barely catches himself as stumbles over his feet.

“Marcus,” Abby cries out as she quickly reaches out and grabs his arm. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m okay. Sorry,” he stammers, feeling embarrassed about nearly falling face first against the door.

Without waiting any longer he opens the door and lets her enter first, terrified about her reaction. He shouldn’t have feared because when Abby sees how the room’s transformed, she lets out a delighted laugh.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she whispers.

And it truly is. The couches have been moved to the side and now there’s a large blanket in the center of the room, surrounded by pillows. The lights are turned off and they’re replaced with hundreds of little lights hanging from the ceiling, mimicking a starlit sky.

“Yeah? You like it?” Marcus questions, closing the door behind him, still sounding unsure so she replies with a dazzling smile. That reaction causes a huge weight to be lifted from his shoulders.

“Good ‘cause I wanted tonight to be special. You deserve something special,” he exclaims, while nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Abby notices that he keeps fidgeting with his jacket’s pocket. At first, she’s confused but as she glances back at the romantic setting, her eyes widen in realisation.

Surely he isn’t going to do what she thinks he’s going to do?

“Marcus, why are we here?” She softly asks, her heart beating like crazy.

“Ah well, if you’ll give me -,” he starts while checking one of his pockets, only to fall silent when his hand comes out empty.

His eyes grow wide with panic as he starts to pat his other pockets.

“No, no, no. I put it in here. I’m sure of it,” he mutters almost to himself.

After checking his pockets multiple times he strides over to the picnic basket and starts to frantically search it.

“Marcus,” she tries to gain his attention but he continues to search the basket, only to jump up and start pacing.

“I can’t believe I lost. I had it all planned. The lights, the food. It was supposed to be perfect. O. is going to be so mad. And Indra… Indra’s going to kill me. I can’t believe I’m messing this up. I had it all written down, everything I wanted to say and now I lost it.“

“Marcus,” Abby snaps and this time he does listen and he abruptly stops pacing. The look in his eyes makes it clear that he had completely forgotten that she was still in the room.

“Ah - uhm - right. I guess I’ll have to - uh - improvise. Okay. I can do this,” he mumbles as he walks over and stops right in front of her.

“Abby,” he softly starts while gently taking one of her hands between his. “I know that I haven’t always made things easy for you. I have hurt you in the past, but you saved me. You showed me another way, you made me want to be a better man. And I want to be the man you deserve. Because you deserve everything, more than I could ever offer you, but if you’d give me the chance, I’d like to try. So my question for you is -” Marcus stops and shakily kneels down before taking the wooden box from his pocket.

The sight makes the breath in her throat to catch. 

“Will you marry me?” He asks, opening the box and revealing a simple silver band adorned with tiny stones.

Abby’s hands fly to her mouth as she stares down at the man kneeling in front of her. Instead of replying she drops down on her knees and starts to pepper his face with small kisses, tears falling from her yes.

“Yes. Yes, Marcus. Of course, I want to marry you.”

For a second he looks dumbstruck as if he didn’t believe that she’d actually say yes, but then she’s in his arms and they’re both crying.

“Oh my, I completely forgot,” Marcus stammers before breaking their embrace. It takes a couple tries because his hands are shaking but eventually he does manage to slide the ring on her finger.

Feeling slightly overwhelmed, he drops a tender kiss on the ring and her hand before gathering her in his arms again.

iii. basking in the afterglow

His ears are ringing, his heart is pounding and his breath is coming out in puffs. A fine layer of sweat is covering not only his chest, but he’s pretty sure his entire body. Taking a deep breath, Marcus tries to fill his lungs with much-needed oxygen.

His fingers are holding onto the sheets as he tries to regain control over his racing heart.

Fuck

Turning his head he glances at his bed partner, who isn’t faring any better if her rapid breathing is anything to go by. Abby’s head is still thrown back, with her fingers clutching the sheets just as his are, as she’s coming down from her orgasm. Her hair’s tousled from his fingers, and it falls on her naked shoulders and breasts.

As Marcus lets his gaze travel lower, he eyes the way her skin seems to almost glisten in the dim light of their room, making it appear golden. Just like him, there’s a fine layer of sweat covering her chest and he barely suppresses the urge to lick her skin clean. From what he can tell she’s sporting a large grin and that knowledge makes some deep and primitive part of him extremely pleased.

Letting out a soft chuckle, he slides one hand over until he can intertwine his fingers with hers, and Abby turns her head towards him.

“That was…. Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, seriously.”

“Yeah.”

His short answers cause Abby to smirk. “What’s this? Don’t tell me that I’ve finally succeeded in reducing you to one-syllable words?”

Marcus rolls his eyes before pulling her closer until she’s lying with her breasts pressed against his side and their legs entangled.

“There’s no need to sound quite so smug,” he manages to state after a couple of seconds, his voice coming out surprisingly stable for still recovering from their lovemaking.

Abby moves until she can rest her chin on top of his chest. “Oh, I have to disagree with you on that,” she smartly retorts.

“Hmm, you do like disagreeing with me,” Marcus murmurs while caressing her naked back with the fingers of his left hand.

The shiver that travels through Abby’s body doesn’t go unnoticed. Nor does the way her pupils dilate.

“Well, what can I say? You do make it very worthwhile,” she points out while reaching out and gently scratching his beard.

Now it’s his turn to shiver. The soft groan that escapes his lips is an added and not unwelcome bonus. Delighted by his reaction, Abby continues to run her fingers through his beard, occasionally giving it a light scratch. Marcus gazes at her with dark eyes. He intently observes the glint in her eyes and the mischievous curl of her lips.

Not wanting to be a mere observer, his fingers start to trace patterns on her back before running up and down her spine. Feeling embolded by his reaction, Abby shifts her focus and her fingers towards his lips. As she traces the outline of his mouth, his lips moved against her touch and his tongue quickly darts out. At the sensation of him licking the pads of her fingers, a gasp escapes her lips and a warm feeling slides down her arm before settling in the pit of her stomach.

With a gentle nudge from Marcus, Abby rises from her position on top of his chest until she can brush her lips against his in the softest of touches. They continue to trade feather-light kisses until she cups his jaw and traces his lower lip with her tongue. He gladly opens his mouth and then his hands are in her hair, tangled in her luscious locks, and he moves his mouth against hers with purpose.

Their kisses grow in intensity and Abby can’t help but let out a groan of satisfaction at the feel of his naked body beneath her. Of the way her breasts are crushed against his muscled chest, how his tongue slipped into her mouth or how his fingers gripped her hips. At the sound of her groan, Marcus feels a thrill of possessiveness travel through him and he swiftly rolled over, pinning her beneath him. Bracing himself on his forearms, he leans down to capture her lips in a passionate kiss. Abby’s hands end up tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

Eventually, they have to break for air, but Marcus simply starts to pepper her throat with little kisses.

“Hmm,” Abby hums while tilting her head back to give him better access to her delicate skin.

Just as he nips at her pulse point her body briefly tenses and she yawns. Amused he leans back.

“Am I boring you?” He teases, loving both the look of embarrassment as the blush that’s colouring her face.

“I’m sorry darling, the last couple of days have been tiring. I didn’t really get a lot of sleep,” Abby softly replies. “Besides, you’re partly responsible for my tiredness as well,” she adds with a glint in her eyes.

“Oh? Do tell,” he murmurs while leaning in and dropping a tender kiss against her lips.

“Well, you’ve kept me rather occupied with things other than sleep. Things of a more lascivious nature.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Never! I’m just saying that I might need some time to recuperate,” she points out and her explanation prompts an impish smirk to appear on Marcus’ face.

“Sounds like I’ve worn you out,” he smugly replies, letting out a chuckle when Abby rolls her eyes in response.

“Whatever makes you feel better,” Abby states while giving him a slightly patronising pat on the back.

At the look of pretend affront on Marcus’ face, she breaks out in laughter, only to a couple of seconds later yawn again.

“Alright, alright. I can take a hint,” he sighs before rolling onto his back and pulling her into his arms.

As he pulls the sheets up so that covered Abby snuggles closer, her head positioned on his chest, one arm between their bodies while the other’s draped across his torso.

“Night, I love you,” she drowsily murmurs.

Marcus presses a kiss to her hair before running his hands up and down her back. “Love you too.”

iv. when Abby’s prevented from leaving their bed

“Hey, where are you going?” Marcus mutters, his voice still filled with sleep as he grabs her wrist, halting her from leaving the bed entirely.

Abby turns her head and at the sight of his rumpled hair, she feels a soft smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“I’ve got the early shift today. You should go back to sleep,” she proposes, but Marcus shakes his head.

“Bad idea. I might get cold or even worse lonely. You should stay in bed with me. Keep me company,” he mumbles with a gentle tug on her hand.

When she doesn’t respond right away, he tugs again. “I promise that you won’t regret it. Come on Abby, come back to bed. Much warmer in here,” Marcus groggily promises.

“I can’t not show up Marcus. Niylah would be all alone,” she tries to explain while running her thumb across the palm of his hand.

“Abby, she’s been helping you for almost an entire year, I’m sure she can handle herself.”

“I know that, but -“ Abby retorts, but Marcus quickly interjects.

“Hasn’t she proven herself to be extremely qualified?” He continues with his eyes still closed.

“Yes –,” she starts again, but he doesn’t give her time to properly respond.

“And didn’t she step up when Jackson took some time off after getting married to Miller?” Marcus presses and he knows by the sigh Abby emits that he has won her over.

Just to make sure that she will, in fact, crawl back into bed with him, Marcus opens his eyes and gives her The Look.

“Please?”

Abby stares at him for a couple of seconds, but she after while she breaks and picks up the tablet that’s resting on their bedside table.

“I’ve messaged Niylah. Are you happy now?”

“Uhu.”

"Great. You can put those puppy eyes away then,” she admonishes him, but he knows that she’s not really annoyed because Abby lets him lead her back under the covers.

She ends curled up on her side, with one of his legs between hers as Marcus quickly returns to their position with him spooning her.

“Consider them put away,” he murmurs while snuggling closer and surrounding her like a warm and extra blanket. He starts to pepper her neck with little kisses just because he can.

“Thank you so much.”

At her obvious sarcasm, Marcus gently nips at the tender skin, chuckling when she lets out a soft yelp. He soothes the spot with another little kiss and he can feel her relaxing in his arms. As he continues to kiss her neck, he ever so slowly starts to caress the soft skin of her stomach.

“Didn’t you simply wanted to cuddle?” Abby remarks, amusement clear in her voice.

“Hmm,” Marcus murmurs before letting his fingers slip beneath her panties and simultaneously wriggling closer, making sure that the lower part of his body is firmly pressed against her ass.

“Looks like certain body parts don’t agree,” she snorts, but she still pushes back, feeling him getting hard.

“You don’t seem to mind,” Marcus replies, proving his point by sliding his fingers between her folds, her flesh already slick with arousal.

“I never suggested that I - oh - mind,” comes Abby’s breathless reply when he slips a finger inside. “I’m just saying that it’s obvious you had more in mind.”

“Or perhaps it started out as me simply wanting to cuddle, but when you were in my arms I couldn’t help myself from reacting to your state of undress,” he softly remarks, brushing his lips against her pulse point before sucking on it, causing Abby to gasp out. His fingers are drawing lazy circles around her clitoris while rolling his hips against her ass. It’s making her stomach flutter and she feels herself getting even wetter.

“What if I simply want to cuddle?” Abby points out.

“Uh-huh.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Not in the slightest,” Marcus retorts just as he slips two fingers inside of her.

“Oh!”

“Oh, indeed.”

“You’re right. We can cuddle later,” Abby states before turning her head so she can capture his mouth in a bruising kiss.

v. Mr and Mrs Kane

After thanking Jackson for the dance and giving him a heartfelt hug, Abby makes her way over to her table. For what feels like the first time today she’s able to relax for a minute, which she does by sitting down and taking a sip of wine. She loves being married to Marcus, but she hadn’t realised just how much work there went into a wedding.

On the Ark, weddings were rather sober affairs. Abby remembers having a five-minute ceremony lead by the Chancellor while wearing a dress her mother had sown herself. Jake had been in a mismatched suit and too big shoes. The only items of luxury had been their wedding rings, but it still was one of the best days in her life. And if had been up to her and Marcus, their wedding ceremony would have been something small as well, but apparently the first wedding of Wonkru especially that of Skaikru’s former heda en fisa, deserved something grant. Or at least as impressive as they could manage while living in the bunker.

To be honest, at first, she’d been a bit overwhelmed with all of the attention her upcoming marriage was getting from the bunker’s other residents. Marcus, thankfully, had been able to persuade Octavia to keep it somewhat modest. The young woman had taken it upon herself to organise the entire thing and she was determined to give them the best wedding possible. Realising that their wedding was the first thing people looked forward to since Praimfaya, both Marcus and she had decided to let Octavia plan it.

As Abby lets her gaze wander across the room she can’t help but smile at the number of people who had shown up and were seemingly enjoying themselves. Things hadn’t been easy since they got stuck here. There had been a lot of hostility in the beginning and the transition to one clan was still a work progress, but for tonight it seemed like people were willing to put their differences aside and simply enjoy the music and each other’s company.

Her attention is captured by the sound of female laughter. Turning her head towards the dance floor she quickly finds the person responsible. With a soft smile Abby watches how Marcus, with a big grin on his face, twirls a smiling Octavia across the dance floor. Ever since she won the conclave and after becoming the new heda, the young woman had been forced to grow up even more than she already had, so Abby was happy that she finally had an opportunity to be Octavia, the teenage girl and enjoy herself. She’s also glad that Octavia still had Marcus to count on, but as she continues to watch them dance, a feeling of sadness overcomes her.

Clarke

Her daughter should be here. She should have been the one to walk her down the aisle. And she deserved the opportunity to share a dance with Marcus as well. Just as Bellamy should have been Marcus’ best man. Not to mention Raven, who would have joked all night about the number of bets she had placed on them.

Abby can feel tears filling her eyes, but she quickly wipes them away.

Not today.

She refuses to let her dark thoughts take control over her during her wedding day. Taking a deep breath, she tries to push those thoughts away and she joins the applause after the current song has ended.

Octavia presses her lips to Marcus’ cheek before leaving him. His eyes immediately dart across the room in search of hers. When he does finally find her, a grin appears on his face. She returns his smile, but some of her sadness must have bled through because the grin makes room for a frown. He quickly makes his way over before sitting down on the chair next to her.

“Hey, is everything alright?” he softly inquires while placing his hand on top of hers, giving it a comforting squeeze.

She gives him a small nod, but Marcus still doesn’t seem entirely convinced so she removes one of her hands from under his hand and cups his cheek, gently rubbing his beard. “I promise it’s nothing serious. This is the happiest I’ve been in a while. It’s just - I wish Clarke and the others were here as well.”

A look of understanding flashes through his eyes and Abby knows that he’s thinking about Bellamy.

“Come here,” Marcus softly says and Abby rises from her seat, only to settle down on his lap. Her hands link behind his neck, while he rests his arms around her waist.

“I know you miss them, so do I. And I do wish that they were here as well. But the thing that gives me comfort is that they still have each other.”

His words mean everything to her and once again Abby is grateful for being married to this man. Snuggling closer she leads forward until she can press a tender kiss against his lips.

“Thank you,” she whispers but Marcus merely shrugs and kisses her back.

“Have I already told you that you’re looking stunning doctor Kane?” he asks after they break for air.

A thrill of excitement courses through her at the mention of her new surname.

Smiling, Abby answers, “Hmm, I wouldn’t mind hearing that again chancellor Kane,” and her reply causes him to chuckle.

“You’re looking absolutely breathtaking.”

“Why thank you. You aren’t looking bad yourself,” she replies teasingly.

“Such high praise.”

“Only the best for my husband,” she claims with a smile.

When she refers to him as her husband Marcus’ eyes light up with joy and he pulls her closer.

“As for you, my wife,” he promises before kissing her.

vi. with little spoon Marcus

One of the first things Abby had discovered since that initial night in Polis is that Marcus loves to cuddle. Before falling asleep, he would always wrap himself around her, as if he needed a constant physical reminder that this was real, that she was actually lying next to him.

Of course, there had been some teasing from her side but to be fair, there’s nothing Abby loved more than crawling into bed after a long day and snuggling up against Marcus. To have him pressed against her back with his arms wrapped around her and their legs entangled. She always felt so safe and loved when she was lying in his arms. And yet, she absolutely adored the rare opportunities where the roles were reversed and Marcus wanted to curl up and let her embrace and protect him.

An emergency at medical had kept her there all night. Which is why Abby’s currently walking through the bunker’s corridors at 1 am, desperate to fling her clothes off and slip into bed next to Marcus.

When she finally enters their room, she tries to enter the room as quietly as possible. The last thing she wants to do is wake him up, especially since sleep wasn’t something that came easily to either of them. She changes out of her clothes and into a pair of shorts and one of Marcus’ T-shirts.

Lifting the sheets, Abby swiftly slips between them before cuddling up to his back. As she wraps her arms around him, she moves her head until she can press a kiss to the side of his neck.

A soft sigh escapes Marcus’ mouth as he covers her hands with his, making Abby snuggle closer to him.

“Everything okay?”

“Hmm. The injury looked worse than it actually was. It’ll heal nicely.”

“That’s good,” he murmurs, his voice still laced with sleep.

Abby merely hums in response while pressing another kiss to his neck.

The sensation of her lips against his skin causes him to let out a small shiver and he wriggles a bit in her embrace.

“That tickles.”

“What does? Me doing this?” Abby teases before giving him another feather-light kiss. His responding wriggle causes her to softly giggle.

“Yes, you doing that,” he grumbles.

“Stop it,” he orders when she continues to tease him.

“What are you going to do if I don’t stop?”

“I’ll make you stop,” Marcus states, his voice coming out low and she most definitely knows what that means and she can feel her skin itch in anticipation.

“Oh really? I’d like to see you try!” She challenges with a nip to his ear.

Groaning, Marcus swiftly turns around and before Abby even has the time to blink she’s flat on her back with her hands trapped above her head and Marcus between her legs.

Which honestly isn’t a bad position to find yourself in, so naturally she retaliates by wrapping her legs around his waist and bringing their hips flush against each other. At the feel of his rapidly hardening cock, hot and restrained in his boxers, Abby gasps and she instinctively pushes her hips firmly against his.

“Abby,” Marcus growls, his pupils are fully dilated and his breathing is harsh.

“Marcus,” she retorts with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“I thought I asked you to stop it!”

“But I don’t want to stop. Besides, weren’t you going to make me?” she retorts with another roll of her hips, unable to suppress a smirk when Marcus groans in response.

“Hmm, I did say that,” he grins before leaning down and taking her lower lip between his teeth, giving it a gentle tug.

“Well, Chancellor Kane, I’d like to see you try,” Abby teases.

“Oh, I’ll do more than simply try Doctor Kane,” he retorts before capturing her lips in another kiss, effectively muffling her laughter.

vii. when Marcus is drunk

“Have I already told you that you’re looking really beautiful,” Marcus murmurs against her hair.

Abby lets out an exasperated huff, but try as she might she can’t stay annoyed at him. Not when he has a ridiculous grin plastered on his face and this is the most carefree she has seen him in a very long time.

“Yes darling, you have. Several times,” she comments, while struggling to open the door of their room.

Who knew that performing a simple task like opening door could be so difficult when you have a grown and a slightly drunk man draped over your shoulder.   

“Good. Because you are, absolutely stunning,” he replies just as Abby manages to open the door, resulting in them stumbling into their room.

She has barely closed the door when Marcus promptly starts to clumsily strip down. He lets his jacket fall on a nearby chair and scarcely avoids falling face down while taking off his boots. His shirt is the next thing to go and it’s casually dropped on the floor. After that he tries to unbutton his pants, only to realise after a couple of minutes of fumbling that removing your pants without opening your belt is perhaps not the best of ideas.

When he finally wins the battle with his belt, Marcus steps out of his pants and swiftly lets himself fall onto the bed.

Rolling her eyes at his antics, Abby fills a glass with a water and makes her way over so she can place it on the little table next to their bed.

Before she can get too far, Marcus reaches out and grabs one of her hands and gently tugs at it, causing her to fall onto the bed with a squeal.

“Marcus, I could have fallen on top of you,” she softly admonishes him.

“And that would have been a bad thing how?!” he retorts with a big grin on his face. “Wanna do some more dancing if you know what I mean,” Marcus adds with a wink, causing Abby to laugh.

“Oh, I think we’ve done more than enough dancing for the night,” she teases as she cups his cheek and caresses his beard.

“Aw, but I liked the dancing,” he pouts while leaning into her touch.

“Yes, I could tell by the way you dragged me onto the dance floor. You barely waited until Jackson and Nathan finished their first dance as a married couple.”

“You didn’t seem to mind at the time. As a matter of fact, I know that you liked it.”

“Oh, really? Do tell.”

“You kissed me,” Marcus states, looking entirely too smug and Abby can’t help but press a fleeting kiss against his lips.

“Hmm, you’re right. I did kiss you,“ she replies and he flashes her a smile.

“And not only did you kiss me, you also practically ordered me to request Can’t help falling in love with you,” he adds with a grin.

“Well, excuse me for wanting to dance to the song we used for our first dance,” Abby teases but Marcus merely hums.

“So how about it Mrs. Kane? Are you going to join me?”

“I don’t know Mr. Kane, can you assure me that you won’t throw up all over me?”

That reply earns her a raised eyebrow and mildly affronted look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I can hold my drink.”

Abby gazes at him for a couple of seconds, but when he continues to stare back in a serious manner, a soft smile breaks through and she gives him a small nod.

“Alright then,” and the responding grin that appears on her husband’s face really is something else. It makes him look younger, his eyes crinkling in happiness. Not to mention that the smile caused a warm feeling of arousal to settle in the pit of her stomach.  

She briefly rises from her position on the bed in order to quickly remove her clothes. When she’s down to her panties Abby pulls one of Marcus’ shirts that she claimed as hers, much to his delight, over her head before crawling between the sheets.

Her back has barely hit the mattress when Marcus moves over before wrapping his arms around her waist and nuzzling her neck.

“Hmm, you smell nice too,” he murmurs as he drops a soft kiss against her neck.

“At least one of us doesn’t smell like a distillery then.”

“Hey, words can hurt,” comes the reply and a gentle squeeze of her waist.

Abby snorts, “Go to sleep Marcus.”

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbles, “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

viii. when Abby uses Marcus as a blanket

Marcus is roused from his sleep by a tugging sensation. Moving his body, he slowly opens his eyes and observes how Abby’s pulling at the sheets.

“What are you doing?” he murmurs, his voice coming out rough and still filled with sleep.

“M’cold and you’re hogging the sheets,” she whispers while continuing to tug at them. He can’t help but grin at her antics before removing his hands from beneath the sheets and pulling on them as well.

Abby stops and throws him a glare, or as much of a glare as she can while still being half-asleep. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like it?”

“Marcus…I’m tired, I’m cold. This isn’t the time for games.”

“Who says I’m playing a game? Perhaps I’m cold too?” he smirks.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Abby moves into a sitting position while remaining her grip on the sheets. “Since you’re currently completely covered and I’m not, I’d say you’re lying. Now give me.” She orders with another tug.

“Not a chance,” he retorts while tightening his grip.

“Marcus. Give me those sheets.”

“Come and get them.”

Her eyes narrow as a look of contemplation flashes across her face, wondering if he’s being serious or not. When he simply gazes back at her without moving, she huffs before throwing what sheets she had left in her grasp into his direction.

“Fine, have it your way. I’ll just freeze then,” Abby snaps before turning around and curling into in a ball, with her arms hugging her knees.

“Abby,” Marcus sighs, “Don’t be silly. There’s no need for you to be cold.”

“Silly?! You’re the one who refused to share,” she throws back over her shoulder, her tone accusatory. 

“I was merely teasing you,” he explains while reaching out and running his hand up and down her arm, only to be shocked at how cold her skin feels.

“Abby, you’re freezing,” he exclaims while shuffling closer.

“What? Nooo. What ever gave you that idea? The shivering? Or the fact that I told you?” Abby states, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Realising that he messed up, Marcus presses an apologetic kiss against her shoulder. “I’m sorry love. Why don’t you turn around so I can warm you up?” He softly proposes.

Abby stays quiet for a couple of seconds and he starts to think of ways to minimise the damage when she suddenly turns around, their gazes locking.

“Well? Weren’t you going to warm me up, dear husband?” She presses, her tone curt but Marcus spots the slight upturn of her lips. 

“Certainly, dear wife,” he grins before opening his arms and pulling her into his embrace.

At the feeling of her cold skin, he can’t help but hiss and he can feel her smirking against his chest.

“Payback,” Abby whispers as her breath ghosts over his chest, causing him to wriggle.

“Duly noted,” he replied while pulling the sheets over the both of them and gently tucking her in. 

After being completely immersed beneath the sheets Abby lets out an appreciative moan at the newfound warmth. Snuggling closer, she slips a leg between his and wraps an arm around his waist, absorbing even more warmth. As a thank you, she presses lazy kisses against his muscled chest, causing Marcus to chuckle and caress her back, his fingers trailing her spine. In response Abby tilts her head until she can kiss his jaw, enjoying the sensation of his beard brushing against her lips. 

“Have you been sufficiently warmed?” 

“Hmm, not quite.”

“Oh?”  “My lips still feel a bit cold,” she informs him while shifting until she’s propped on top of his chest.

“Really? Well, we can’t have that, now can we?” Marcus teases, as he brushes a strand of hair away and behind her ear. 

“We certainly can’t.”

With a soft smile, Marcus bends his head and captures her lips in a languid kiss. Humming against his mouth, Abby moves closer while cupping his cheek. 

“Better?” He asks as they break for air. 

“Uhm, they could be warmer,” she replies and Marcus swallows her giggle with another kiss. 

They continue to exchange kisses until Abby breaks away and settles back against his chest with her head tucked under his chin.

“Warm enough now?” 

“Uhu,” Abby sighs, sounding content.

“Goodnight,” Marcus says before dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

“Night.”

ix. when Abby has the flu

Whoever said that doctors made the worst patients was absolutely correct. It had taken Marcus two days, the help of Jackson and Niylah and not to mention a well-constructed plan to get Abby to leave the infirmary and retreat to their room. Marcus had noticed right away that something had been wrong when he had woken up with a shivering, yet sweaty, Abby in his arms. All his suggestions of letting Jackson check her or to take it easy had been brushed off. Not that he had expected anything differently. He was, after all, dealing with Abby Griffin. Stubbornness was practically her middle name. She had simply taken a shower, put on an extra sweater and went to work. Throughout the day he has taken several trips to the infirmary, always with a mug of tea or some soup.

The next day she had gotten even worse, but Abby still had gone to work. It was only when Niylah had dropped by, informing him that Abby had fainted, but already back at work that Marcus decided that it had gone on for long enough. So he, the young woman and Jackson had come up with a plan. Marcus would pretend to feel ill and retreat to their room. The other two would then inform Abby about his ‘condition’ and Niylah would take over her shift.

Which is why Marcus has just arrived in their room with a couple of bread slices and two bowls of soups. He quickly puts the food down on the table before glancing at the clock. By now Abby should be on her way to their room. Feeling anxious, he starts to pace. Knowing Abby as well as he does, he realizes that she won’t be pleased about being set up and lured to their room by a lie.

It doesn’t take long before he hears footsteps echoing in the hallway. Taking a deep breath, Marcus has barely the time to walk towards the door before it opens and Abby rushes in with her kit in her hand.

She’s looking pale and tendrils of hair were plastered against her skin.

“Marcus? Are you alright?” she cries out, as she sets down her kit before checking his temperature.

A frown appears on her face when Abby realizes that he doesn’t have a fever.  “I don’t understand - Jackson said that you were feverish?”

Marcus clears his throat, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “I lied”

“You – you lied?” she repeats, her eyes flashing with irritation as she takes a step backward.

“Abby listen –“ he starts, but she swiftly cuts him off.

“Marcus, I was worried. I thought you were ill,” Abby snaps.

“I know that and I apologise for lying to you. But how else was going to make sure that you got some rest?”

She huffs. “I’m fine.”

“Fine? Abby, you’re shivering. And I’m pretty sure you haven’t eaten anything for the past two days.”

Just as she opens her mouth to retort her legs give out and Marcus barely managed to catch her before pulling her into his arms.

“Don’t think about telling me I told you so,” she murmurs while clinging to his arms.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he grins before pressing a kiss against her forehead. “Come, let’s get you in the shower.”

At Abby’s raised eyebrow, he lets out a chuckle. “Don’t give me that look. I’m sure you’ll feel much better after freshen up.”

For a second it looks like she wants to argue, but in the end, she gives him a small nod.  

Without giving it any second thought Marcus bends his knees and picks her up, cradling her to his chest. Under great protest from the woman in his arms, he starts to walk towards the bathroom before turning the shower on. He then carefully settles her down onto the toilet. Abby slumps against the wall while claiming that she’s perfectly able to undress herself when he kneels down and starts to unlace one of her boots. However. When she makes no move to prove her claim, he simply continues to disrobe her until she’s naked.

Noticing how she’s shivering, Marcus quickly strips down as well before wrapping her once more in his arms and guiding her into the shower. At the sensation of warm water hitting her skin, Abby lets out a small hiss before sighing and wrapping her arms around Marcus and leaning against his chest while letting the water cascade over her. After lathering her body with soap and rinsing her off, he first helps her dry herself before doing the same to himself.

“I’ll get you some clothes alright?”

Abby gives him a tired nod as she reclaims her position on the toilet, still wrapped in a towel.

He quickly returns, already dressed, with a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. When she’s dressed, he helps her rise.

“Do you want to eat some soup now or after a nap?”

“After a nap,” she croaks, her voice sounding hoarse.

“Alright,” Marcus replies with a nod before gathering her into his arms once more and carrying her towards their bedroom.

Abby’s too tired to protest, she simply rests her head into the crook of his neck and closes her eyes.

Soon enough they’re in the bedroom and Marcus puts her, ever so gently, down onto the bed. He then pulls back the sheets and she wastes no time into crawling between them.

“Join me?” comes her tired inquiry.

“Of course.”

Sliding between the sheets as well, he barely lies down before Abby rolls onto her side and snuggled up against him. Her arm is wrapped around his waist while her head is resting on his chest. Letting out a content sigh she presses closer. Running his hand up and down her arm, Marcus presses a kiss onto the top of her hair.

“Thank you,” Abby drowsily murmurs.

“You’re welcome. Now get some sleep.”

“M’okay. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

x. on the anniversary of Praimfaya

Today was a day Abby would have loved to skip. It couldn’t end soon enough. All day she had been strong. She’d gone through the motions almost on autopilot. It was almost as if she wasn’t really in her body. Even during the memorial for all the people they lost during Praimfaya her eyes stayed dry and she barely felt anything. She had to be strong for those who looked up to her. There was no room for tears, not when she was surrounded by others. Marcus had immediately noticed, but he didn’t press her. He simply gave her kiss before leaving for a meeting and during the memorial he held her hand, offering her wordless support. Which is one of the reasons why she loved him. His ability to spot even the slightest problem and knowing how to comfort her without pushing.

As Abby enters their room and closes the door the numbness starts to slowly dissipate. Her body starts to tremble and she swiftly removes her boots and jacket before crossing the room towards their bedroom. She’s glad when she’s near the bed because her knees buckle and she tumbles onto the bed.

The pain and guilt had suppressed during the day all came to the surface.

Clarke. Raven. John and the rest. All those they had condemned to death. Her role in the death of 400 people of their own. The pain hits her in strong waves.

A year.

A year since that fateful day. A year since waking up in Marcus’ office and realising that he hadn’t listened to her plea to let her die. Initially, she’d been furious. How dare he make such a decision behind her back? This was her life. But then again hadn’t she made a similar decision mere hours before? In the end, it didn’t matter, it was already done. There was no point in staying angry especially after finding out that there was a cure for her brain damage.

A half-choked sob escapes her as she curls up in a ball, her hands clenching around a pillow. Tears are streaming down her cheeks and her body’s trembling with the heaviness of her sobs.

She doesn’t know how long she has been lying on the bed. It could have been seconds, it could have been hours, but eventually the tears slow down, her body truly exhausted and it’s then that she can hear the door of their room open. Abby isn’t fazed by it, there’s only one person who would enter without knocking. She can hear him removing his jacket as well and she doesn’t bother with calling him out, he already knows where she is. It doesn’t take long before she can feel the bed dip behind her as Marcus crawls onto the bed until he can wrap his arms around her and pull her close against his chest. There is no hesitance on her part, she immediately shuffles backward until she’s firmly pressed against his chest while clutching his arms.

Marcus hates seeing her in so much pain. He can feel his heart shatter at the sound of her whimpers. He wishes he could ease her sorrow but he also realises that words won’t help her. So he nuzzles her neck before pressing a comforting kiss against her skin.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs soothingly and Abby lets out a relieved sigh, grateful to have him with her.

As she continues to cry, Marcus makes comforting noises and doesn’t let go of her. After a while, the tears stop falling and the room’s filled with silence, the only sounds resonating through the room are both of their breathing.

Taking a deep breath, Abby shifts in his embrace until her face is inches removed from his.

“Hi,” she whispers, her voice coming out weak from all the crying.

“Hi,” he replies before gently wiping away some stray tears.

“Feeling better?”

Abby gives him a small nod. “A little bit. Even though I feel embarrassed for breaking down,” she softly admits while glancing away.

Marcus cups her cheek and brings her gaze back to his. “You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about love. Today has been an emotionally taxing day for you. You’re allowed to be sad and to grieve. I hope you know that you don’t have to pretend with me. You don’t have to keep your calm and strong Doctor Griffin mask on with me.”

“I know that Marcus and I do. You’re the only person with whom I can completely let my guard down and be vulnerable. It’s one of the reasons why I love you,” she explains before bushing her lips against his a tender kiss.

“I’m just sorry that I wasn’t there for you today. It must have been so difficult to get up the stage and hold that speech because I know how much guilt you still carry with you. Not to mention how much you miss Bellamy,” she softly adds and at the mention of the male Blake boy Marcus had all but adopted as his own son, a look of pain crosses his face.

Tears gather in his eyes as he clenched his jaw, trying to keep the tears from falling. Putting her arms around him, Abby cradles him against her chest. “I’ve got you too Marcus. Always.”

Her statement causes a shudder to travel through his body before it’s his turn to cry. For having to make the decision to sedate everyone. For missing Bellamy. For not knowing if he, Clarke and the others were safe.

He clings to her body and Abby rubs comforting circles over his back. “We’re going to be alright. As long as we have each other, we’ll be alright.”

With their bodies intertwined and exhausted, they soon fall asleep.

xi. when Abby’s pregnant

Abby’s roughly awakened by a sharp pain just below her ribs. Quickly rising to a sitting position her hands immediately fly to rub comforting circles on her bump. Her heart’s racing and she’s trembling. There are a million reasons for the pain flashing through her mind, but when she feels a tiny kick against her hand a couple of seconds later, she relaxes.

Everything’s alright.

It’s just the baby kicking, she thinks with a tender smile as she continues to rub her stomach. “Is everything alright?”

A sleepy voice from behind inquires.

Turning her head, she observes how Marcus shuffles upright, his hair still ruffled from sleeping.

“Abby?” he presses when he notices the way she’s holding her stomach and the tears which are filling her eyes.

“I’m alright Marcus. I’m more than alright actually. The baby just kicked,” she whispers with a smile.

Marcus’ eyes grow wide before they glance towards her stomach. “She did?” He asks, his voice filled with wonder as he lifts a hesitant hand, unsure if he was allowed to touch her.

This hesitance of his, the way he holds himself back, makes her heart bleed for him. Because Abby knows how happy he is that they’re having a baby because she still remembers the way he had held after telling him the news. His body had been shaking and tears of pure happiness had rolled down his cheeks. She also knows how much he already loves their unborn baby. And yet, there’s still a part of Marcus that’s scared. Scared that this will be taken away from him or that one morning he’d wake up and realise that it all had been a dream.

Ever so slowly Abby reaches out and grabs his hand before placing it on her stomach where the baby had kicked before. When nothing happens, she can tell that Marcus is disappointed and probably blaming himself even though there’s no reason for him to feel that way.

“Say something to her,” she suggests with a nod towards her stomach.

He briefly hesitates but in the end, he shifts until his mouth almost brushes against his hand. Before speaking he glances up at her as if asking for permission and Abby nods affirmatively.

“Hi little one, this is your father,” he softly whispers and he has barely uttered the last word when he feels a soft kick against the palm of his hand.

Startled, he lets out a gasp before lifting his head and looking at Abby, who’s looking down at him with a big smile and tears in her eyes.

“Try again,” she proposes and Marcus eagerly refocuses his attention on her stomach.

“I just wanted to tell you that I already love you and I can’t wait to meet you,” he murmurs, only to laugh when the baby kicks again.

“Abby, that’s our baby,” he exclaims, his eyes wide with wonder.

“Yes, it is,” she agrees.

Tears appear in his eyes as well as he returns his gaze to his hand.

“Our daughter just kicked against my hand,” he states, looking and sounding amazed and bewildered.

Smiling at his obvious joy, Abby leans down so she can cup his cheek. “She did.”

He beams at her. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Me neither. In the meantime, however, I think I’ll try to get some more sleep,” she says before lying down again.

Marcus swiftly follows as he curls his body around hers, his hand resting on her bump. He can feel his heart swell with love, both for the woman in his arms as for their unborn daughter.

“I love you,” he murmurs against her hair before dropping a kiss on it.

Abby pushes slightly back into Marcus’ chest and covers his hand with one of her own. “I love you too.”

Soothed by Marcus’ caresses and his warm body surrounding her, Abby succumbs to sleep once more and Marcus is quick to follow her.

xii. after Vera’s birth

After being in labour for over twelve hours, her daughter finally decides that she’s ready to enter the world. The moment she does, she fills her lungs with air for the first time before letting out a scream and making sure that everyone knows that she had arrived.

Abby’s still in pain, she’s feeling tired and sweaty with her hair plastered to her forehead, but as she looks down and sees her baby, her little daughter with her perfect pink skin and tiny fingers wrapped her thumb, all of the pain disappears into the background as an overwhelming wave of unconditional love crashes over her.

“Here you go, darling.”

When a glass of water appears in her peripheral view, she looks up and gives Marcus an exhausted but grateful smile. Making sure her daughter is comfortably resting on top of her chest, she accepts the glass.

“Thank you.”

“How are you feeling?” Marcus inquiries while brushing some strands of hair from her forehead.

“Exhausted. Sweaty. Happy,” Abby sighs, “You?”

Marcus simply stares down at both of them with an awed and slightly dazed look in his eyes, as if he still can’t believe he was a father, before gently reaching out and caressing his daughter’s cheek.

“I-“

“Do you want to join us?” Abby proposes as Marcus continues to stroke the baby’s cheek.

“Are you sure? I mean the bed isn’t that big and I don’t want to hurt either one of you,” he replies, sounding and looking rather hesitant.

“Of course I am,” she assures him while slowly moving her body so there’s a small space for him.

Marcus takes his jacket off before carefully climbing into the hospital bed, resting on his side with his left arm positioned on the pillow, and Abby promptly rests her head on it so he can shuffle closer until his chest is pressed against her side.

Ever so gently Marcus reaches out and tenderly rubs his daughter’s head, amazed by how much hair she already has. 

“She’s so tiny,” he whispers, his tone filled with awe.

“She most definitely didn’t feel tiny when I gave birth to her earlier,” Abby remarks causing Marcus to softly laugh before dropping a kiss on the top of her head. 

“I still can’t believe we have a daughter,” Marcus murmurs, his voice coming out slightly shaky.

Hearing him choke up, Abby turns her head until she can brush her lips against his.

“Well, you better believe it because we’re kind of stuck with her,” she teases him, eliciting a weak chuckle from him.

“I just – I’d given up becoming a father such a long time ago and now -” Marcus halts as his voice breaks and his eyes are filled with tears.

At the sight of Marcus crying while gazing at their daughter, Abby starts to feel emotional as well. She’s immensely grateful that she could give him something that he had, deep down, always wanted, something he had hidden from everyone else because he thought that becoming a father simply wasn’t something he’d ever experience. Putting the glass down, careful not to disturb the baby, Abby cups his cheek, brushing away a stray tear.

“You already were a father Marcus. They might not be yours biologically, but I know for a fact that Bellamy and Octavia don’t care about that and that they love you as if you were their father. The way you worry about those two or about Clarke and the others that’s what fathers do. And now you have another little girl to worry over. A girl who’s going to adore you and you’re going to be amazing with her because you’re already a great father,” she whispers and she feels her heart soaring when he bestows a radiant yet humbled smile upon her.

Lifting a hand Marcus covers the hand resting against his cheek.

“Thank you, Abby. I know that a simple thank you isn’t sufficient because you deserve so much more, you deserve everything, but you have truly made me the happiest I’ve ever been. I love you,” he passionately proclaims, the nearly overwhelming love he feels for the woman resting in his arms evident in his gaze.

“And I love you.”

As they gaze at each other, their daughter stirs, immediately capturing her parents’ attention.

“So have you thought about her name?”

The question makes her stomach clench with anxiety. Biting her lower lip, Abby directs her gaze towards her daughter.

“I have actually.“

“And? Do you care to share?” Marcus softly prompts after a couple of seconds.

Taking a deep breath, Abby whispers, “Vera”. It’s uttered so quietly that for a second Marcus is absolutely certain that he imagined her saying his mother’s name, but when she looks up at him with an uncertain look on her face, he realises that he did hear her correctly. His breath catches in his throat and it almost feels as if his heart stops beating.

“Marcus?” She gingerly presses when he simply gazes at her, feeling completely dumbstruck. Both at her suggestion as at how truly astonishing his wife is.

“It was only a suggestion, we don’t have to-“ Abby starts but he swiftly presses his lips against hers, effectively silencing her.

After breaking the kiss, Marcus lets his forehead rest against hers as their breaths intermingle.

“She would have been honored that our daughter carried her name. She would have loved her so much,” he states, a note of pain lingering in his voice. “She also would have found ways to spoil her, ” he remarks with a tender smile.

“She would have,” Abby agrees with a smile of her own. “Would you like to be the first one to name your daughter?”

Marcus’ reply is a beaming smile before turning his attention once more to his daughter. He brushes her cheek before grasping her hand, marveling how she wraps her fingers tightly around his.

“Hi Vera Kane I’m your dad and this your mother,” he informs his daughter who’s gazing intently at him.

At the sound of her name, little Vera lets out a happy noise and smiles at her father.

“Looks like she approves of her name,” Abby laughs as she watches her husband and daughter smile at each other.

Directing his gaze towards Abby, Marcus bends his head.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs against her lips.

“Love you too.”