#These are just head canons that go off of what I’m pretty sure is book canon

[corroded-hellfire]

Summary: Sam has noticed how much you look at Eric, and encourages you to go for what you want because no one knows how much time there is left.

Note: I hope you enjoy this story about my dear sweet wet boy 🥰

Warnings: movie canon violence

Words: 3.6k

What meds do you need?

With a shaky hand, Sam reaches out and takes her notebook and marker from Eric. She hastily scribbles down a few words, her eyes blinking every few seconds as if she’s fighting off sleep.

Her thin arm drops off the side of the bench, weakly offering the notebook back to Eric. You watch his doe eyes scan over the words before he tears the paper out of the book.

Eric nods as he folds up the sheet and slips it into his pocket. He gives you a terse smile that you don’t have the energy to return. Your eyes follow him as he steps through the rubble and debris towards the front door of the church. 

The moment he’s out of sight, you push yourself off the dirty floor, grab Sam’s Bai, and take a seat next to her head on the bench. The struggle to lift her head is apparent so you quickly slide closer so her head can rest on your lap. She gives you a look of thanks before she sips from the bottle.

Once she finishes, Sam gestures to the notebook on the top of her “I heart NY” tote. Luckily, you can reach it without jostling her head too much. 

The marker scratches against the paper as she writes. It takes her a minute longer than it did for her to write out the medication she needs, so you’re curious about what it says as she hands it to you over her head. 

I see how you keep looking at him. You going to say anything or what?

Heat floods your face, and you swear everyone else in the church is able to read the note over your shoulder. Doing your best to shake it off, you write back a quick message before handing the notebook back to Sam.

Not allowed to speak at all.

She reads what you wrote and drops the notebook onto her chest, letting her eyes roll up so she can give you the most unamused glare you’ve ever seen. 

As if Frodo is also unimpressed with your answer, he crawls out from beneath the bench, stretches his front legs out with his tail in the air, then heads towards the door. 

Funny. Pretty sure your eyes have left him all of twice since we left the apartment. 

It had been pure luck seeing Sam and Eric come into the apartment building last night. The distinctly human footsteps walked past the door of your apartment on the fourth floor and your curiosity got the better of you. You’d been held up in your home since the start of whatever kind of invasion this is and the need to see another live human being was too strong to deny. Though this was just last night it feels like another lifetime ago.

This is possibly the end of the world, and you want me to what? Tell Eric I think he’s cute?

You can’t help but see the twisted humor in the fact that you and Sam are sitting in a dilapidated old church, in the middle of what seems to be an alien invasion, and the two of you are writing notes back and forth to one another like high school girls gossiping. 

I’m saying to go for what you want. We could be dead in a minute for all we know. Don’t waste your time.

It’s hard to argue that point with someone you know has limited time left. It’s even harder to argue because you know she’s right. But even though you’re in survival mode now, you’re still you and don’t find things like this easy. Call it insecurity or trauma from high school when the guy you had a massive crush on found out about it and laughed in your face. Things like that don’t just go away—even in the apocalypse.

We’re focusing on staying alive right now, Sam. 

You’re deflecting.

It’s just the truth.

It’s still deflecting. 

What do you want me to say, huh? I’m already scared for my life, I don’t need heartache on top of everything else right now.

Why do you think it would be heartache?

Because guys like him aren’t interested in girls like me.

Guys like him? Girls like you?

Yeah. Handsome, smart, kind. And me, not those things. I don’t need to feel like the rejected high school girl again right now. 

Are you shitting me? This isn’t high school. Either tell Eric how you feel or agonize over what could have been. 

Again, trying to survive right now.

So afterwards. On the boat out of here.

Maybe.

If I had the strength to wring your neck, I would. Cancer has fucked up my life but one thing it did do is show me how useless shame is. There’s no time for being embarrassed, it’s just a waste. 

Why do you care so much?

What? You’re not getting my loving and nurturing vibe?

Ha. But really.

You’re both good people who deserve to be happy. If you can find that in each other then I think you should at least try. 

Fine. On the boat. I’ll say something to him there.

Swear on Frodo.

That’s not fair.

Do it.

Fine, I swear on Frodo.

Sam seems content after that and closes her notebook and rests it on her abdomen. 

It seems somewhat like emotional blackmail when the woman dying of cancer makes you swear on her sweet, adorable service cat. 

The arguing (if you could call it that) has drained some of Sam’s energy and you see her eyes start to flutter closed. But a spark lights in her eyes, and she opens the notebook once more. At first you think she has something else to say to you about the whole crushing on Eric thing, but this sentence is for her.

My dad played beautiful piano.

A bittersweet smile rests on your lips. 

Sam tries to put the notebook back down on her bag, but a wince tells you that the effort is hurting her. Gently, you take the notebook from her and set it down. She nods her head in thanks. 

For the better part of an hour, Sam dozes on and off. It doesn’t seem like a particularly restful sleep she’s getting, but you hope it’s doing something to help her. 

When Eric comes back, Frodo leading him in, he looks exhausted. Not that any of you were in top form these days, but Eric looks even more haggard than when he left. Still cute, though. Unfairly cute.

As he walks towards you and Sam on the bench, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box no bigger than a Polaroid picture. With a slight wince, Eric kneels next to Sam and begins getting the patch out and free from its adhesive. 

Sam tilts herself to the side and you help her turn enough that she can show Eric where to place it. 

Once it’s firmly on her skin and Sam is comfortably on her back again, it only takes a few minutes before the relief is visible. Her body has relaxed, her breathing down to a steady pace, and she looks the most at peace you've ever seen her. It feels like your heart has been run through with a sword when you think about all this poor woman must have gone through. 

“My dad played beautiful piano.”

Eric held Sam’s notebook in his hand, smiling at the few words. You just hope that’s the only page he stays on. He turns his head and meets Sam’s eyes.

“I loved it when he would bring me to watch him play,” Sam says, voice ragged and weak. “Then we’d get pizza at Patsy’s.”

That explains the odd insistence for pizza when the world is ending. 

“What happened to him?” you ask softly.

There are a few moments where Sam doesn’t speak, and you begin to think she’s not going to answer you. 

“He died,” she says. The pain in her watery eyes is palpable. You would want to wrap her up in a hug if she weren’t in so much pain. “Like I am now.”

The sad truth said out loud at last. You haven’t heard either of them say it up to this point. 

“Not before we get pizza,” Eric tells her. 

A small smile ticks up the corners of Sam’s mouth. 

“Not before we get pizza,” she agrees. 

The ship is leaving the port. It’s not too far out so it would be possible for you all to still secure passage on it. But then the dread in your stomach grows as you watch creature after creature step onto the sandy shore. They take great care to stay far enough away from the water, though. 

You, Sam, Eric, and Frodo trudge through the wreckage of cars and building debris scattered along the road. 

The four of you drop behind the carcass of an old van, all of you pressing your backs up against the tarnished metal. 

A shuddering breath comes from next to you and your head whips towards Eric, who is between you and Sam. His eyes tear up and he grits his teeth, trying to ward off the anxiety that’s creeping up.

Sam immediately presses a hand to Eric’s chest and in the lowest whisper possible says, “Breathe.”

You take one of Eric’s hands in your own and give it an encouraging squeeze. Hoping he’ll follow your lead, you take a large breath in, then let it out. It helps a bit, but the anxiety is so strong. How could it not be in the situation you’re all prisoners to?

Your eyes move from Eric to Sam as you watch her nuzzle her face against Frodo and press kisses to his black and white fur. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she’s saying goodbye to him. Then she hands Frodo to Eric, and it hits you. She was saying goodbye to Frodo. Instinct tells you to fight her on this, but how can you? One, you can’t speak. And two, who are you to tell her not to do this? If it were you, you’d rather go out trying to save the lives of your companions rather than let a vicious disease let you waste and wither away, slowly and painfully as the world ends around you. Sam is thinking that her life is almost up, and she’d rather buy yours and Eric’s lives with the short time she has left.

Sam pushes herself into a crouch as Eric clings to Frodo, holding him close to his chest. You let go of Eric’s hand so he can hold onto the cat better—Lord knows he’s already run away enough times. 

“Run,” Sam whispers. 

Before she takes off, you look her in the eye and nod your head once. Between that and the tears building in your eyes, you hope she sees your acknowledgment of what she’s doing and all the gratitude you can convey to her. 

Sam nods in return, telling you she knows. Then, she’s gone. You see her crouch down behind cars as she makes her way through the lot. She picks up a crowbar and smashes it through a still-intact window of a car.

The smashing glass catches the attention of the creatures, and you know the time to move is now. Looking at one another, both you and Eric take a deep breath before getting up from behind the car. 

Monsters rush past you, leaving you almost no room to dodge them as they race in the direction of the noise Sam is making. It seems like a miracle once the two of you see the dock ahead, no creatures between you and there.

Your sprint turns into a run, Eric keeping pace right beside you as he holds Frodo securely against him. A few steps onto the pier, Eric’s foot kicks a large metal can that skids a few feet away. It clangs as it tumbles, and the monsters hear it. 

There’s no need for you to look back; you know they’re coming. All energy reserves go into your legs as you run faster. The rail around the dock is broken in one place, giving you and Eric the perfect opportunity to jump into the water. 

But they’re getting closer.

You can hear the monsters gaining on you, and a quick glance shows one leaping in the air, aiming to land right on top of you, Eric, and Frodo. But you jump. The flash of yellow beside you brings immense relief as you hit the water—both of you jumped in time. 

As you surface, you look back and see a gang of creatures waiting at the exact spot you and Eric leapt from. Two heads pop up next to you, one human and one cat, both safe. If this were any other circumstance, you would probably chuckle at how Frodo looks all wet. 

Eric gazes back at the land with you and you both see Sam, standing between two dedicated cars.

Shouts come from the ship behind you, encouraging you to swim over to them. Without saying a word to each other though, both you and Eric take the time to look back at Sam. To watch her, this brave woman in every sense of the word. There could never be a way for either of you to thank her enough, but you hope she feels some semblance of it. 

Wide brown eyes meet yours as you turn towards Eric. The two of you bob in the water for a few moments, looking at each other as you attempt to catch your breaths. Now it’s time to get to the boat. It’s time to get to safety.

Once the three of you have made it to the boat, you’re helped on board and assured that you’re safe now. Blankets are brought to wrap around you, Eric, and one for Frodo as well. 

It seems impossible to attempt relaxation after the last few days’ events, but there’s nothing else to do as the ship sails slowly along. Where it’s headed, you don’t know. You don’t particularly care at the moment, either. 

You, Eric, and Frodo make yourself comfortable in a small alcove on deck. It feels like you fall in a heap together, collective exhaustion kicking in. You weren’t even aware of how tired you were until this moment. The adrenaline finally starts to wear off and you lay your head down on Eric’s shoulder. You don’t intend to, but you quickly fall asleep against him.

When you wake, your head is still on Eric. Slowly, you sit up straight and smile when you see Frodo sleeping on Eric’s chest, all curled up in his blanket. Eric’s gaze catches yours and the moment you look into the beautiful brown eyes that make your knees weak, you remember what you promised Sam. On the boat. I’ll say something to him there.

After everything you’ve been through, you now understand clearer than ever what Sam meant about there being no time for embarrassment. No one knows if the next moment is their last, and do you really want to regret keeping your feelings inside? No. Plus, there was absolutely no way you could break your word to Sam after what she just did for you. 

“Eric,” you start, unsure of how to phrase what you want to say. He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. Gathering your nerve, you do. “I want…I have to tell you something.”

“Sure. Anything.”

Another deep breath. Sam’s voice whispers in your head, you can do this.

“I don’t, um, know where we’re going. Or what’s going to happen next. I can’t even begin to think about that, really. B-But I do know that I would like to stay with you for as long as you’ll let me. I like being with you.”

A shy smile grows on Eric’s face, and he nods his head. 

“I like being with you, too,” he says. “I’d love to stick with you.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. But can I ask you…is it because you think I’m cute?” Eric is trying his hardest not to smirk, but the look of surprise on your face threatens to overtake him.

“I-I…”

“Or well,” Eric says, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper and holds it between the two of you, “at least that’s what you told Sam.”

Your eyes dart down to the paper, and you recognize your and Sam’s handwriting. A gasp startles out of you as you realize it’s the note you and she passed back and forth in the church.

Eric is full on grinning when you look at his face again. His shoulders shake as he chuckles, and his laugh is infectious. You start giggling yourself and bring your hands up to cover your eyes.

“Oh my God, she ripped it out of the notebook and shoved it in her pocket? She thought I was gonna wimp out!”

Neither of you can stop laughing now. After being so scared and quiet for so long, it just feels so good. 

Eric pulls out another piece of paper and hands it to you.

“She also wrote us this sweet note.”

The letter from Sam makes you smile, cry, and oddly, feel some form of peace. She’s home. 

“Aw, Frodo,” you say as you fold the note back up. “You would be the handsomest boy even if you did get fat. But no, we’re not going to feed you too much.”

Eric chuckles and holds his arm open for you. You gladly accept the invite and curl up against his side. The scent of the salt water, wet cat, and the mustiness from the blankets do nothing to cover the scent that is pure Eric. You rest your forehead against his neck as he wraps his arm snugly around you and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“You know,” he says softly as he lays his head against yours, “I came very close to getting you and I killed multiple times.”

“What?” You frown as you reach your hand out to stroke the top of Frodo’s head. “How?”

“Well, when I first saw you, when you stepped out of your apartment, I didn’t say anything. Not only because I couldn’t, but I was speechless. You’re so pretty and I froze. Sam had to push me three or four times to get me to walk again. And then there were so many times I’d just look at you and almost blurt out how beautiful you are. Because your beauty is something that’s impossible to keep quiet about. Then I got to know how kind you are. So compassionate, brave, selfless. Your beauty runs farther than skin deep and it made me even more of a bumbling idiot.”

You can’t help but giggle as you bury your head farther into the juncture where his neck and shoulder meet. 

“But I do have a bone to pick with you,” Eric says.

Reluctantly, you pick your head up to look him in the eye.

“Why?” you ask, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

He picks the note between you and Sam back up and begins to read a part aloud.

“Why do you think it would be heartache?

Because guys like him aren’t interested in girls like me.

Guys like him? Girls like you?

Yeah. Handsome, smart, kind. And me, not those things. I don’t need to feel like the rejected high school girl again right now.”

He lowers the note and shakes his head.

“Now, I don’t know what kind of absolute prats you went to high school with, but anyone who rejected you is, quite literally, insane. And I don’t like this talk about ‘girls like you.’ You make it seem like such a bad thing to be you. But you’re possibly one of the best people I’ve ever met. And I know that after only knowing you for about two days. And it didn’t take me more than four seconds to see how stunning you are. Frodo and I want you to see yourself the way we do. Right, boy?”

Both of you look down at the snoozing cat and you scratch between his ears with a chuckle.

“I’ll work on it,” you say earnestly. 

Frodo tilts his head and you let your hand drop. You lift your head and Eric is so close. It would barely take any movement for his lips to be on yours. So, you make that move. The hand that was petting Frodo comes up to cup Eric’s jaw as you lean in and press your lips against his.

Eric’s body immediately sinks against yours, holding you tighter as he kisses you back with urgency. It’s as if he remembers the two of you have more time now and he can savor this moment as he slows the kiss down, enjoying exploring your mouth at a lazy speed. There’s no rush anymore. You’re safe and both here together. 

When you part, he rests his forehead against yours and you’re pretty sure there are identical grins on both of your faces. 

“I can’t wait to hear your laugh over and over again,” you tell him.

“I can’t wait to hear you say my name,” he replies.

“Eric.” It’s the first time you’ve been able to say it above the lowest of whispers. “Eric, Eric, Eric.”

His grin grows even larger, and he presses a quick kiss to your lips.

“God, I love the sound of that.”

[bloodlust-1]

A baby is on the way!

Tav is expecting a little one! This is how I’d imagine the companions to react during the pregnancy and birth

Reactions/head-canons!

Featuring:

Astarion

Gale

Halsin

Astarion

When Tav tells him she’s pregnant:

- “What? Is this some kind of joke cause it’s not funny, Tav! You can’t really be pregnant— I mean happy things don’t happen to me. Right..?”

Reality will kick in, he won’t admit he’s excited at first, but she can see the happiness in his eyes.

Belly is gettin’ bigger! :

- “My little sweet with her tummy all grown. I’ve never seen such a beautiful sight, if I say so myself.”

While she naps he loves talk to her stomach, saying random names until something sticks. He loves gender-neutral names.

Preparing for the baby:

-“How in the hells do you put this together!?” He fights against the bassinet. “Gods, please give me the patience to see this through.”

-“You know, our baby is going to be the cutest face to ever grace faerun! With parents that look like us, hah!”

He visits healers with her often, and even secretly confides in Gale for pregnancy books to learn more about a half-vampire baby.

The baby is coming:

-“Deep breaths my love.”

-“You’re doing so well, our baby is almost here.”

Astarion makes sure to bring all of his baby care he prepared. He never leaves her side, holds her hand, and occasionally yells at the healers to help her with the pain from the contractions.

The baby is born: It’s a girl!

- “She has your eyes. Thank you, for giving me something I can fall in love with all over again. I love you.”

He weeps in happiness and relief as the baby takes its first cry, he is the first to hold her.

He doesn’t allow anyone to see the baby until Tav gains her energy back. He stares at the baby and points out what features are his and what is Tav’s.

Gale

When Tav tells him she’s pregnant:

-“I-I…This is fantastic news! I’m going to be a father! We must celebrate at once.”

The first week of telling Gale he went to buy the most beautiful embroidered baby blanket, and occasionally showed up to the house with random baby items.

Already planning the baby shower.

Belly is gettin’ bigger! :

-“You have a glow to you, I’m happy you both are both healthy, my love. Let me cook you something for dinner.”

Gale loves to hug her belly from behind when they are in bed. He traces little hearts on her stomach.

Preparing for the baby:

- “Darling, I visited the library and look what I found!” He dumps a pile of books on the table. Its books about parenting, pregnancy, and babies-101. “Now we’ll be ready for any obstacle. I hope.”

They discus a birthing plan with each other. Gale really wants her to deliver the baby in Waterdeep, his home town where his family could visit them.

Gale won’t let her move a finger. You have to go up the stairs? Not without him. You need a glass of water? He’ll fetch it. He cooks all her favorite meals and weird cravings.

The nursery room they’ve built together is inspired by the stars. All the pretty star and moon decorations were placed in the nursery.

The baby is coming:

“There, there, it’ll all be better soon.”

“I can’t wait to see our baby.”

Gale brought the best healers he know to assist Tav. He rubs her lower back to try and comfort the contractions. He is extremely nervous— hands shaking and all!

The baby is born: It’s a boy!

“You did perfect— he’s perfect. I-I don’t even know what to say. We’re a family now, Tav…” <3

He tied back Tav’s hair in a bun and helped her shower after giving birth.

Gale watches Tav breast feed as he rubs the baby’s cheek and whispers the baby’s name to it. Promising him a good life.

Halsin

When Tav tells him she’s pregnant:

-“I knew there was something off with you, I’m just surprised this is why! You’ve already made me so happy, and now you’re giving me the biggest gift nature can bestow on me.”

She catches Halsin praying to his god, giving it thanks for the giving him a baby and family.

He starts to study babies more, even brining back natural remedies for Tav to use/eat for the baby’s health.

Belly is gettin’ bigger! :

-“At this rate you won’t be able to walk soon. Do you need your back rubbed again, my heart?”

Her belly is super big, almost too big for just 1 baby. Halsin barely leaves her side and took time away from being a leader to help Tav with her pregnancy.

He carves small wooden toys for the baby, especially ducks. He always shows Tav for validation to see if she likes them, of course she always does.

Preparing for the baby:

-“The baby will be here soon, I’ve alerted everyone in the grove to keep a watchful eye on you to make sure you don’t go too far from home. I want you to be safe.”

Halsin prepares a tub for Tav to give birth in the comfort of their own home. He collected many towels, aloe, and much other natural remedies to reduce her pain during labor.

He wants Tav to pick the baby’s name, he feels as if this is natures gift and that the mother should have free range to name the baby. He is happy with anything.

He orders midwives to make Tav eat soups, many that don’t taste great but are super packed with benefits for a healthy baby.

The baby is coming:

-“It hurts my heart to see you like this, but I promise we’ll get through this together.”

-“Keep pushing, my love, you are doing so well, don’t stop now.”

Tav never seen him so nervous. Her contractions were very frequent with little to no time between them. He gets extremely overwhelmed and starts to get snappy with the midwives to try and help Tav cope. He even tries healing magic on her as well to help.

Halsin holds her hand in both palms, he squeezes them whenever she groans in pain. He always uses loving words to try and comfort her.

The baby is born: It’s twins! Boy & Girl

-“Look, Tav! It’s our cubs, they’re beautiful. This is truly a blessing from nature, I am forever grateful for you for giving me a family. I promise to protect us all.”

He holds both babies in each arm, swaying them slowly and adoring their little faces. He orders all and any crowd away from the home for privacy between the couple. Halsin likes to call them his cubs. He gives Tav many kisses and thanks.

Halsin prepares a ceremony to introduce the babies to the Oak Father. They were wrapped in the finest silk blankets and all the grove attended, giving their prayers to welcome the children.

Many members of the grove gives the newly parents much gifts and food. Halsin has never been happier and is excited to teach his skills to his cubs.

Note: Halsin a twin daddy? 🥺 omg my heart, I could imagine him playing toys with them and teaching them how to go into wild shape. Little cubs running around the house. <3333

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

Dallas Dating A Curtis!Reader

Buckle up buttercups, this is gonna be fun!

As always, to fit the age bracket, you’re either Soda’s twin, or you were born between Sodapop and Ponyboy

Pick and choose as you see fit, but I’m definitely seeing more opportunity for a Sodapop’s twin sibling-

Anywayyyssssssss

Lemme set the stage a little bit, alright? Cause there’s a bunch of ideas floating around in this brain of mine-

You’ve had a crush on Dal for the longest time and I mean the longest time- ever since he stumbled in with that stupid white blond hair and that stupid New York accent and that stupid little attitude of his- you’d been head over heels

And low and behold, Dallas had been nursing a few feelings for you as well, hiding them a little better than you had been

So of course, y’all flirt and mess around and all the rest of the boys are a little suspicious but you and Dal both deny that there’s anything between the two of you

That changes a few weeks before the Curtises die, you and Dallas go on an official date down to the nightly double (he timed it with your favorite films cause he’s romantic like that) and bada bing bada boom, y’all are dating

But it’s a secret and no one knows but here comes the funeral and you’re holding Dallas’ hand through the whole thing, crying into his shoulder and he’s cradling the back of your head and everyone knows there’s something up

Darry doesn’t like it- not even a little bit- he doesn’t love that you’re dating Dal one smidgeon of a bit

He likes Dal well enough, he’s got to, they’re in the same gang, but like- he knows Dallas well enough too to know that maybe this isn’t the best thing

Dare’s biggest concern is your heart and whether or not Dal’s gonna break it by doing something stupid like fooling around with someone else or getting hauled in for something big and leaving you alone forever

Sodapop’s a little more okay with it? But he’s still a little hesitant, especially when Dally likes to get a little more physical than he needs to

*cough cough* kissing you way past decent under the porch light when he’s dropping you off at home after a date, sliding his hand into your back pocket to keep you close, just generally being Dal and pushing the limits of what is publicly decent *cough cough*

But!

Where the real fun is located is with our dear darling Ponyboy!

It’s canon, I’m pretty sure and I’m pretty confident after reading the book fifty million times, that Ponyboy “doesn’t like” Dally and thinks he’s kinda scary

But at the same time, we all know that boy looks up to Dally too and Dally has a soft spot for him

I’m seeing like- Ponyboy and Johnny and Dallas hanging out, just the three of them, and Dal’s trying to be all nonchalant and stuff, smoking casually as he tries to ask Ponyboy about how you’d like certain things

Dally tries to subtly run almost all his date ideas past Ponyboy before he takes you out because yeah, he really does like you, and sometimes he’s just a little unsure of himself with how much he cares about you

Now. When he gets hauled in, and we know it’s going to happen, let's be honest with ourselves folks, when he gets hauled in, his phone call is going to go to the Curtis house

He’s gonna ask for you and he’s gonna apologize for having to be gone for so long

If I was you? I’d cry, I’d scream, I’d be angry and sad and frustrated because why does he keep making stupid decisions?

But I’m gonna tell you this-

Putting up with stupid decisions and working through tough times like this? It’s gonna be a lot of the relationship, and it’s gonna be pretty prominent in your time with Dally

If that’s not for you? Then maybe, maybe it won’t work out

But that’s alright too! All the more for me :D

[stellar-constellations]

Star Patient: Chapter 5 (ONGOING SLOW BURN SERIES)

WARNING: This series will include; possible inaccurate medical procedures and medical setting, gore, toxic relationships that should NOT be replicated in real life, murder, yanderes, cursing, suicide mentions, implications of misandry (male misogyny), and possibly more.

Inaccurate canon-timeline (this is before Ashley and Andrew murdered their parents).

Reader has a small fear of adult men/rape and has a history of suicide attempts.

Incest is not Wincest.

Amnesiac! Obsessive! Patient! Andrew Graves x Yandere! Nurse! Reader:

Wordcount: 12,000+ words

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, chapter 4, current chapter, chapter 6, Chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9 (in the works)

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

        Andrew glided through the hospital corridors, taking the elevator to the pediatric branch. He really couldn’t care less about the kid, Hailey, but for some reason his favorite nurse just loved the little nuisance. 

        He felt a bit jealous. Does she like Hailey more than him? 

        Obviously, she does, considering how she had talked about the girl when they first met. He felt pretty annoyed. Did she spend more of her time and attention on the ill girl? Did she get to innocently hug her like that? If Andrew wasn’t so prideful, he’d definitely ask her for a hug.

        Hell, he was really fighting with himself to ask now. Just a small quick hug, nothing bad! He wondered if he could genuinely pull that off. He wondered how she must feel inside his arms. Would she rest her head against his chest, or would she rather prefer resting it on his shoulder? Is she one of those people who cling onto you like their life depends on it, or was she someone who preferred soft and polite hugs? Would she be a long and affectionate hugger, or simple and sweet? 

        He put that thought in the back of his mind for now, rolling down the hallways to Hailey’s room. He didn’t bother to open the door, much like he did with (Y/N)’s room earlier, as he strolled in without a care.

        Hailey laid in her bed, her eyes glued to some book (Y/N) got her, before she glanced at him. Her eyes raised, surprised to see the pale man again.

        “Andrew, was it?” she questioned, her voice sounding better from yesterday. “What are you doing here?”

        “(Y/N) told me to check on you.” He stated bluntly.

        “(Y/N)? Is she here?” Hailey questioned, a smile growing on her face. “I haven’t seen her tonight! I thought she was off work?”

        Andrew was about to open his mouth and say (Y/N) was, before remembering how the nurse didn’t want the girl to know about her condition. 

        “Uh, no…” he muttered, looking away. “She… wanted me to get into books to distract myself… so she told me to go to you for any books.” He lied.

        “So you do have an interest in books after all.” Hailey smiled. “You must have an interest in nurse (Y/N) too, huh?” Hailey smirked teasingly.

        “…What are you getting at?” Andrew questioned, resisting the urge to glare at the sick girl.

        How the hell did this kid know? Andrew questioned to him.

        “It’s very obvious.” She smiled. “See, if I had a past life, I’m sure I was like a cupid!”

        “Uh, yeah. Sure, kid.” He spoke, brushing off the comment as he decided not to entertain nor deny the idea.

        “I’m very serious.” Hailey re-enforced. “I can see it in your eyes! You’re invested in her!”

        Who is this brat… Andrew thought, annoyed but intrigued (much to his dismay).

        “You know, I’ve known her ever since she came here. I know her type of men.” Hailey lied, a mischievous smirk growing on her face.

        “…You do?” Andrew muttered, now he was unashamedly interested. 

        “I could tell you…” she hummed, trailing off. “Or not.”

        Andrew looked hesitant, before letting out a sigh. He rolled his chair up to her bedside, glancing down at her lap where her open book rested.

        The book she got from (Y/N)…

        God, everything just seems to trace back to that woman, huh? No matter what, everything he sees and hears all traces back to her, even outside of the hospital people are attracted to her (even if the reasons could be malicious). It’s almost pathetic how hooked he is on her, despite not even knowing her for a week. It’s almost scary how everyone seems to be attracted to the girl, she just had an aura that everyone was aware of and drawn to. 

        He could look at something stupid like his shoes and remember her footsteps as she walked with him to the surgery room. He could remember her hands on his face, chest, wrist, looking all around and checking his condition, his bandages, his vitals. He could look at his bedsheets and remember her hands tucking him in for bed… and imagine things he’d rather not envision for a woman he just met.

        Yeah, back in the hatch those thoughts go.

        “Could you just tell me?” he huffed, trying to sound as uninterested as possible despite asking for this, rather impatiently at that.

        “Well? Do you like her?” Hailey questioned.

        Andrew took the moment to think to himself. Yeah, she was a pretty nice nurse, and she knew her stuff despite specializing in pediatrics; though he shouldn’t be surprised, children are basically just the same anatomy as adults, just smaller in size.

        She had a nice voice, and she somehow balanced between playful and professional, perhaps that’s practiced for pediatrics to make kids feel comfortable yet still hold authority. 

        She had a cute smile, and her eyes were pretty to look into. He liked looking at her while she worked, sometimes she’d even bite her lip or stick her tongue out to remind herself to concentrate. She looked like an angel laying on that white hospital bed. Even in pain, she still looked pretty. 

        He wondered how she was outside of the hospital. She was a human too, how did she act with her friends, or her family? How did she act alone? Was she single? Did she have a boyfriend, or did she prefer girls? Would she take interest in him? Could she see him as a potential partner?

        Fuck. Yeah, he definitely liked her.

        “Just a little…” he muttered, feeling a little embarrassed.

        This feels weird (and degrading, in a sense) to be relying on a sick kid for love advice. 

        “So you admit it?” she smiled.

        “Are you gonna tell me or not?” Andrew growled.

        By now, Hailey was no longer fearful or anxious of Andrew. Andrew was just a lovesick puppy hopelessly enamored with her favorite nurse, in her eyes at least. She learned that expression from her books.

        “No.” Hailey smiled, picking up her book.

        “Why?” Andrew questioned, feeling a little betrayed that she made him admit his feelings only to not hold onto their deal.

        “Because I lied.” Hailey smiled. “I don’t know her type.”

        “Brat…” Andrew muttered under his breath, unashamed to be talking smack in front of a dying kid.

        He could’ve said worse, but it’s quite mean to talk ill to a sick child, especially in front of them. Besides, (Y/N) wouldn’t like it if she found out.

        “So, books?” Hailey hummed, getting back to her reading. “This book I’m reading right now is pretty good. I can read it to you.” She suggested.

        “No…” he grumbled, still a little upset that he was tricked. 

        He’ll let her lying slide. Kids will be kids, let them have their fun. 

        “How about I read it to you instead?” Andrew suggested.

        He didn’t want her reading to him; he was the adult, not her. Besides, her voice sounds hoarse and struggling, he’d rather him read it to her than have the kid push herself—not because he’s soft or anything, but because (Y/N) would be upset. 

        Hailey seemed to ponder the idea, before handing over the book to him. 

        “Just don’t crease the pages.” Hailey spoke.

        “Got it.” Andrew hummed, looking at the page she was originally reading.

        He started at the beginning of the page, reading a bit wonky at first, before he started to get into the narration. The words started to flow more smoothly, and he even took pauses for dramatic effect at the intense moments that felt like they needed a pause to sink in.

        One chapter became two, and two became four. He was pretty interested in the story, makes sense considering it was his (Y/N) who got the story, of course she’d have immaculate taste too. 

        He read until his throat went dry, the tip of his tongue aching from all the pronunciations. He looked up from the book to see Hailey asleep.

        Did she get bored? Andrew thought, a little offended that she fell asleep at the book (Y/N) gave her instead of giving it to him, especially when he was kind enough to read it to her. 

        Maybe she just liked his voice? It’s perfect for listening to. His voice wasn’t quiet, but it wasn’t loud either, like a polite demand for attention or to respect his authority. It was deep, but not too deep, with a slight rasp from smoking. He was good at projecting his voice so others could listen to him—well, everyone except Ashley, really. 

        Thinking of Ashley, where is she? She was sure acting weird today. Something about the demon’s vision she saw in her dream. She also described (Y/N)’s appearance despite not even knowing the nurse; he couldn’t recall any moment they had interacted.

        Andrew took a white bookmark that laid on her bedside table, placing it on the page he stopped reading on. He closed the book, placing it down on Hailey’s bedside. He wheeled out of the room, making his way back to the elevators.

        He entered the elevator, pressing the button for the emergency branch, waiting for the doors to re-open. The metal shutters opened and he rolled out, going back to (Y/N)’s room.

        He made it, opening the door and entering without bothering to knock. (Y/N) laid in the hospital bed, her eyes closed as she appeared to be sleeping.

        Damn… Andrew thought, disappointed. I was hoping to talk to her.

        He doesn’t know what he would’ve talked about, but he was hoping she’d start the conversation. He wanted to get closer to her, emotionally and physically. 

        Andrew debated what he should do, before finally giving in, rolling his wheelchair up to her side. He observed her sleeping face, blissfully unaware of his presence as she slept. Her hair was a little messy, perhaps from sleeping or from the attack earlier. Her skin was a bit paler than usual, perhaps from shock or blood loss. She had more prominent bags under her eyes than usual, resting heavily under her closed eyes.

        He wondered who attacked her, and why. Was it a crazy ex boyfriend? Some stalker? A jealous friend? Someone suffering under delusions? He wondered what happened.

        He had an idea, though he was scared to ponder on it.

        Instead of thinking about it, he distracted himself. He looked down at her bandaged arm, trailing his hands down to her wrists, and to her fingernails.

        Her nails were strangely clean. They were polished and trimmed, which makes sense considering nurses need to have good hygiene, especially so they don’t transfer bacteria or accidentally infect patients. They looked like they had been scrubbed squeaky clean recently, not even a trace of dirt under her nails. 

        Her hands looked small compared to his, clean and petite compared to his rough and damaged ones. 

        His hands had small burns from failing to light his cigarettes as a starter; her hands had small burns from ovens and hot cookware and hot glue guns, yet somehow her scars were far more attractive than his.

        His hands were dirty, stained with blood and sins; hers were clean, baptized in purity and commandant.

        He wondered how her hands would feel against his. They looked soft, would they feel soft? He wondered if she used lotion, what her favorite nail polish was, how long she liked her nails.

        Those thoughts led to other thoughts. What did she like wearing when she’s at home? What does she wear in public? What kind of music does she listened to? What kind of foods does she like?

        He decided it was best to stop those thoughts. He stared at her hands, juggling his thoughts in his head, before finally giving in. He reached out and held her hand with his larger one. 

        He held it gently, feeling the weight of it. His thumb rubbed the back of her hand soothingly, memorized at the difference. Her hand was slightly cold, possibly due to how cold the hospital’s AC is followed by blood loss, but it wasn’t uncomfortable to touch. 

        He looked at her face to see if she woken up or felt the touch. She didn’t.

        His fingers carefully interlocked with her, cautious to make sure she wouldn’t accidentally wake up. She remained neutral, not even a flutter of her eyelashes or any stirring. 

        She must be really tired… Andrew thought. 

        His admired their hands as they eloped together. He noticed discoloration on her hands, He shifted his body, laying his elbow down on the edge of the mattress and using his arm as a pillow. He admired her sleeping face, closing his eyes to relish the touch and intimacy of this moment. He doesn’t know how long it took for him to fall asleep, but it was relatively quick.          .         .        

        A few hours later, Andrew jolted awake first at the sound of the door opening, turning his head at the noise. (Y/N) groaned, opening her eyes and seeing Andrew by her side, holding her hand as a man stood in the doorway, one Andrew didn’t know. 

        Andrew squeezed (Y/N)’s hand softly, a silent greeting before glaring at the man, almost possessive of (Y/N)’s vulnerable state.

        “Hello, Doctor Ryan…” (Y/N) yawned, before directing her attention to Andrew. “And hello to you too, Andrew.” She hummed, smiling as she gently squeezed his hand back.

        She looked down at their hands, wondering when she and Andrew started holding hands, or even when he returned back. Her hands trailed down to her sleeves, more so lack of, as the hospital gown didn’t have any long-sleeves for her. She noticed her scars out in the open and ripped her hand away from Andrew’s, a sense of insecurity and embarrassment rapidly building in her as she hid her arms under her blanket.

        Andrew looked confused (even a little disheartened that she let go) as Doctor Ryan walked over to her. Doctor Ryan isn’t usually at the hospital on Saturday nights, but he could’ve decided to work overtime this week. It’s not unusual since he has a stay-at-home wife and three kids.

        “Hello! I heard what happened and I figured I’d wait to see you when you’re awake.” The doctor smiled brightly, walking over to her bedside and sitting next to Andrew. “And who is this?” he questioned, looking at Andrew, yet having a good idea of who it was as he sent a knowing smirk. 

        While Doctor Ryan had never met Andrew face-to-face, he had read his report when assigning (Y/N) to watch him his first night, along with hearing all the gossip from Penelope. 

        Andrew had a small reputation around the hospital since he’s one of the trouble patients, on suicide watch and needing special treatment for his wounds and wants. Andrew wouldn’t accept any care from any other nurse during the night shift, it was a fight for the day shift to care for him until (Y/N) told him to behave for day shift. His sister was also banned from the hospital due to proving a threat to Andrew’s recovery and health, though she won’t be a problem anymore. 

        Rumors spread pretty easily of Andrew’s fondness and almost admiration of the nurse he chose, (Y/N). Penelope has a big mouth without meaning to, having a bad habit of rambling and over sharing her and other people’s problems and secrets, so it spread pretty quick of the strange relationship the nurse and patient shared. Penelope’s ramblings of doubt as a nurse because Andrew wouldn’t accept her care had reached Doctor Ryan’s ears, being the catalyst of his teasing to his student, (Y/N). 

        “This is Andrew.” (Y/N) introduced when she realized Andrew wasn’t going to answer the doctor’s question, only give him a nasty glare.

        She cleared her throat, shoving her arms into her blanket so the pair of males didn’t see, and flashed a smile. “What’s your visit for? Don’t tell me you’re gonna make me work.” She chuckled lightly, trying to make a joke. 

        “I wouldn’t say 'work' exactly.” Doctor Ryan smiled, before it faltered, letting out a sigh. “You’re here today, so I figured it’d be a good time to tell you. I think it’s best if you see Hailey.” 

        “Hailey? Why? Did something bad happen to her?” (Y/N) questioned, doing her best to not sound alarmed or panicked.

        It’s never a good thing for a nurse to panic, it’d defeat a key factor of their job. Nurses are supposed to provide aid to their patients, whether it’s emotionally or physically, or even emotional in cases like Andrew’s. A nurse panicking would panic their patient since they’re going to look to the one with most experience. If a patient panics, they can worsen their condition or provide unnecessary stress that can affect their recovery or even create new problems. 

        And people think being a nurse is just all fluffing pillows and handing out medication. You have to be constantly in tune with the patients emotions, symptoms, and healing process; from what they're feeling to how much they're eating or using the bathroom. Always checking up on how they are and cater them to the best of your ability; serving them food (and sometimes helping feed them), changing their bedsheets, helping them to the bathroom, helping out with physical therapy, prepping them for procedures or appointments, and charting. The worse is charting. You have to document every single thing; from what they ate and what times, to who visited them today, to how what they said to be feeling and what they looked actually looked to be feeling like, to any improvement or decline or neutrality of their status, to their behavior, to what medicines they had, to their complaints or compliments they have about the hospital or their treatment, and so much more. 

        “She’s just not in the greatest condition at the moment. I think it’s best she sees you.” Doctor Ryan spoke.

        Before she could question it, Doctor Ryan grabbed something from his coat, placing it down on her bedside table. 

        “Here,” he spoke, patting what looked to be a Polaroid recorder down on her table, “I came to drop this off too. This was supposed to be a wholesome visit, until Hailey at least…” he spoke, allowing his smile to drop. “Check out the contents on the camera later. I have to get back to work. Get well soon!”

        “Thanks.” (Y/N) smiled, watching Doctor Ryan leave the room.

        “Who was that?” Andrew questioned, glancing over at her as he resisted the urge to grimace.

        “That’s Doctor Ryan, he’s my professor! He’s the one teaching me pediatrics since I’m an apprentice.” (Y/N) explained, slowly sitting up from the bed.

        Andrew watched her movements carefully, observing how she slowly took her time getting out of bed. She didn’t apply much pressure on her injured leg as her sock-clothed feet hit the ground (with clean hospital socks, none of her blood soaked up in it and used to plug in any stab wounds). The room looked like a carousel, spinning rapidly, and a headache followed with it, screaming loudly in her head. She let out a groan as Andrew quickly placed a hand on her waist.

        "Careful..." Andrew muttered, watching her intently as he kept his hand on her waist.

        "Thank you, but I'm fine." (Y/N) lied, placing her hand on his shoulder to use as leverage. 

        "Yeah, sure." He hummed sarcastically.

        (Y/N) resisted the urge to glare at him. While she wasn't on duty, she was still his nurse and she didn't feel like having any workplace drama. 

        "Do you want me to assist you there?" Andrew questioned, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles on her hip.

        "No, it's fine." She spoke, taking a few steps to the door and ignoring the stabbing sensation in her leg. 

        "Are you sure?" Andrew questioned, trying his best to not look too concerned for her. 

        "Yes, I'm sure." She huffed, trying not to be snippy. "It's for the best. I don't want Hailey to be nervous or worried, especially if there's something going on with her." 

        "Just be careful..." Andrew spoke, watching her limp away. "I'll be here waiting for you." 

        (Y/N) took the moment to look back at him, confused. Before she could question it, she stopped herself, deciding there was always later to talk about it. Right now Hailey needs her, Andrew can wait.  

        (Y/N) settled for a nod, rummaging in the hospital cabinets and grabbing a white blanket. She wrapped it around her body to hide her hospital gown; she wouldn’t want to worry Hailey. (Y/N) limped out of the room, going down the halls to the elevator. 

        She pressed the floor the pediatric branch was on, waiting rather impatiently for the doors to open again as she descended.

        Was Hailey okay? What did he mean by she’s not in the greatest condition? Has she gained more symptoms, or weakened?

        Hailey has acute lymphoblastic leukemia, also known as ALL. It’s a cancer inside the blood and bone marrow, where the infected white blood cells are rapidly multiplying, creating blocks in the blood and bones that could prevent other cells from getting through and working. The cancer comes with symptoms such as fever, frequent nose bleeds, weakness or fatigue, easy bruising, pain in the bones or stomach or groin, frequent infections, and swollen lymph nodes. 

        Hailey’s most prominent symptoms are her swollen lymph nodes, hence why her voice is low and raspy, along with her bone pains in her legs, which is why she’s bedridden. At least 90% of kids under 15 who have ALL survive, so long as they’re treated. Even thought Hailey has been in the hospital for three years, she’s made very little progress in recovering. 

        Despite there being no stages in ALL cancer, if (Y/N) had to guess, she’s assume Hailey would be in stage 3. Over the years of chemotherapy and medications, her infected white blood cells just seem to be multiplying more and more, hence why it’s called acute lymphoblastic leukemia, acute means rapid. 

        (Y/N)’s theory is that a doctor didn’t give a strong enough dosage to Hailey, therefore the cells grew a resistance to the medication, creating a superbug that could withstand the medicine entirely. 

        Even then, what matters is if Hailey is feeling alright. (Y/N) exited the elevator and limped down the hallways, making it to Hailey’s room and opening the door.

        “Oh. Hello, Ms. (L/N)!” Hailey greeted brightly, her voice still hoarse and raspy, but having life to it. “What are you doing here? You said it was your day off!”

        Hailey’s upper body shot up quickly as she sat up from bed, a smile on her face as she greeted (Y/N). Her eyes were bright and lively, even waving her arm at the nurse.

        Oh.

        “Sorry it’s so early!” (Y/N) smiled. “It’s at least 5 A.M. What are you doing up so early?” 

        “I couldn’t sleep, I just had such a sudden burst of energy!” Hailey spoke. “I think I’m getting better!”

        (Y/N) ignored that comment, sitting down on the guest chair in Hailey’s room. Her eyes trailed to the wheelchair that sat near her IV pole, a wheelchair that’s only used for Hailey to wheel herself to the bathroom now, but even then she needs help from the nurses. 

        “So? How’s that book you’re reading?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “I’m almost done with it. At least 30 pages away.” Hailey answered. “What are you doing here at the hospital? It’s your night off; unless you’re working overtime again?”

        “Yes! I’m working overtime again.” (Y/N) lied, smiling at the girl. 

        It’s best not to tell her anything, not in her condition.

        “Are you cold? Why are you wearing a blanket?” Hailey questioned.

        “Yes, I’m cold. I’m feeling a bit chilly at the moment. It’s verging to winter and the hospital still hasn’t adjusted the thermostat yet.” (Y/N) lied once more. “Hey, remember when I said I’ll take you to the garden the next time I see you? Would you like to go right now?”

        Hailey’s eyes brightened even more, her grin widening as she nodded. “Yes! I want to see the flowers!” 

        “Let’s get you in the wheelchair, yeah?” (Y/N) spoke, standing up from the chair and using the blanket to hide herself limping from Hailey’s sight.

        Hailey used her upper arms and was able to push herself to the edge of the bed on her own, even moving her knees a bit too! (Y/N) still carefully placed one of her arms under Hailey’s knees and the other on her back, picking up Hailey and placing her in the wheelchair. 

        (Y/N) decided against the wheelchair restraints, not wanting Hailey to feel trapped at the moment. (Y/N) grabbed the blanket off Hailey’s bed, but Hailey spoke up.

        “We can leave the blanket. I actually feel pretty warm at the moment.” Hailey spoke.

        The only warmth Hailey usually had was when she had a fire spreading in her legs, the bone pains acting up and causing many sleepless nights for her. It’s why Hailey is almost always awake when (Y/N) does her rounds around the hospital at night.

        “It’s cold outside. Let’s take the blanket just in case.” (Y/N) persisted, smiling as she covered Hailey’s shoulders and down with the thin white cloth. 

        Hailey decided not to argue against it and cooperated. (Y/N) wheeled Hailey out of the room, her pace a little slower than usually as she felt that stabbing sensation in her leg and stomach. It made her silently hitch her breath, her ears having a slight ring in them, yet she persisted. 

        “Gosh, I haven’t seen these halls in forever.” Hailey spoke, her eyes scanning every nook and cranny of the white hallways. “You know, I read that whenever you enter a unfamiliar area, the reason why you feel dizzy is because you have a sensory overload. Like, you’re saving mental images and color palettes and the layout of the area all in your head, that way you remember where you are the next time you go! Even though I’ve been here before, it feels like it’s my first time down these halls all over again.” 

        Yes, (Y/N) knows that. She was the one who gave Hailey the book she learned that from, but for Hailey’s sake (and to distract her mind from the pain), she decided to play dumb.

        “Wow, really?” (Y/N) hummed, smiling. “I never knew that. It makes sense now that you’ve explained it.”

        Hailey nodded, smiling. “Yeah! I remember having that dizziness when I was at my friend’s for a sleepover.” She spoke, before her smile dropped. “Though, it was before I had cancer, or at least when I wasn’t placed in the hospital… I sometimes miss having friends.”

        “Why, of course you have friends.” (Y/N) spoke. “You have me! And you have Doctor Ryan, and Penelope, and Ruby, and even Andrew too.” 

        “Yeah, but I mean friends my age.” Hailey spoke.

        Normally, that could be arranged in the hospital so long as the patients aren’t being exposed to a infectious disease or illness, especially in Hailey’s case since she’s more prone to getting infections; however, Hailey didn’t want to be friends with the other kids after her hair started falling out due to the chemotherapy. She was insecure of her appearance deteriorating, even if Penelope kept lying to her face and telling her she looked perfectly fine. Hailey preferred (Y/N) over Penelope for that reason. (Y/N) always told her the truth, or at least left it blank so there was no harsh comment. 

        If Penelope asked (Y/N) if she looked sickly today, (Y/N) would tell her that a bit of water and food would help bring back some color to her face. It was a good way to not only promote healthy behavior for Hailey, but also it helped build trust in (Y/N) to always telling her the truth about her health. If she asked Penelope, Penelope would’ve lied and said she looked as bright as the sun; which is kind, but she could tell Penelope was lying by how Penelope’s right eye would twitch and bite her bottom lip. 

        “I see… well, I’m sure we can arrange that soon, when you’re ready.” (Y/N) smiled, taking Hailey into the elevator.

        (Y/N) pressed the lobby floor as Hailey spoke up.

        “Are the flowers even in bloom? Since it’s verging to winter?” Hailey questioned.

        “A secret between me and you; the flowers are fake.” (Y/N) whispered, acting as if there was a camera watching her or something. We have scented pads hidden in the soil to make it smell like flowers, and we wet the soil regularly to keep that earthy smell lingering.” 

        “Really?” Hailey gasped.

        “That’s why they’re always in bloom. It’s depressing to have an empty garden, even something as small as colorful flowers give people hope.” (Y/N) explained. 

        While fake flowers aren’t present in most hospitals, this hospital was different. Even if they were always understaffed and overworked, they at least cared for their patients. Even if the staff excel at their work or not, at least they have work ethic. 

        The elevator doors opened as (Y/N) wheeled Hailey down the hallways. (Y/N) noticed the stares from guests and even some patients; whether it was because of Hailey’s bald head or (Y/N)’s limp. (Y/N) noticed Hailey’s gripping the blanket on her, seconds away from raising the blanket above her head to hide it. (Y/N) recognized Hailey’s insecurity and spoke up.

        “You know, I’m thinking of starting a garden. A real garden with real flowers indoors, that way patients with allergies or conditions can see the flowers too without going outside.” (Y/N) spoke, redirecting Hailey’s attention. “I was wondering what flowers you’d like for me to add. I’ll do a survey with the other patients too, have a nice diversity of flowers. What do you think?” 

        “I think… it’s a nice idea.” Hailey smiled, letting go of the blanket. “I think daisies. You should do daisies.” 

        “That’s a nice flower. I’ll see what I can do.” (Y/N) nodded, smiling as she pushed open the glass door, rolling Hailey to the garden. 

        (Y/N) guided Hailey to the wooden bench, picking up Hailey and placing her down on the seat so she wouldn’t be confided to the wheelchair. 

        Hailey rambled on and on about anything and everything. She talked so much that (Y/N) contemplated if she should go fetch water for Hailey’s throat given how raspy it was, but she decided against it as she noticed the signs.

        Hailey’s bright smile, the almost whimsical joy in her eyes; an expression that (Y/N) thought Hailey has lost over the years as she spent her birthdays in this hospital. 

        (Y/N) remembers bringing a cake for Hailey’s 7th birthday, the first they spent together. Even though Hailey admitted to not liking vanilla cake, she still ate it. It was the last birthday she’d spend with her parents before they threw themselves at work, leaving Hailey along in the hospital with other sick patients and the staff. 

        The second birthday they spent together, (Y/N) had to ditch the candles, concerned the smoke would affect Hailey’s lungs. At least the cake was homemade, even if the frosting looked a bit ugly. (Y/N) made sure it was chocolate this time, so Hailey could enjoy it. 

        And the third birthday they spent together, (Y/N) made an ice cream cake, chocolate of course. She figured the ice cream would soothe Hailey’s throat and Hailey could still enjoy the flavor. It took many tries, but she succeeded in making the perfect cake, gifting Hailey books for her to read too. 

        If (Y/N) had known it would be Hailey’s last birthday, she would’ve made sure to go all out. Buy balloons and party streamers, force her parents to come back and see her, cover her head to toe in presents. 

        Unfortunately, you can’t change time. 

        Hailey’s eyes shined as she spoke, talking about anything possible. She didn’t have many who would listen to her, her doctors and nurses were there for work, and (Y/N) couldn’t visit long since she had other patients to tend to. But now, (Y/N)’s off the clock. At the moment she’s not Hailey’s nurse, she’s Hailey’s friend.

        Eventually, Hailey’s voice faltered, before she let out a hum, satisfied as she rested her head on the bench. She took a deep breath, then sighed, smiling softly.

        “It really does smell like flowers. Those are some good quality scent pads.” Hailey spoke.

        Fake flowers last for years; patients do not.

        “Do you ever wonder what’s beyond us?” Hailey questioned after a long silence.

        “What do you mean?” (Y/N) questioned, turning her head to face the girl.

        “Death. Like, do you ever wonder what happens after?” Hailey added.

        (Y/N) hummed, thinking as she kept her blanket wrapped around her, hiding her hospital gown just as Hailey hid from the cold. 

        She wasn’t sure. Many religions had their own ideals of life and death, but she doubted Hailey wanted an answer based on religion. She wasn’t sure what was beyond. After trying to kill herself, everything in her life started losing value, a spiral of nothing and everything thrown at her all at once. 

        Even if she stopped hurting herself physically, she couldn’t stop mentally.

“I think it changes for everyone.” (Y/N) spoke. “Like, your own paradise. You could be surrounded by anyone you want, and anything you want.”

        “What would you want to be surrounded by?” Hailey questioned.

        She didn’t have to think much on that matter. There wasn’t much in her life she cared about anymore. She did nothing but work nowadays. She was an empty husk that worked itself to death to pass the time, awaiting Death by the door. 

        If she couldn’t open the door, she’ll make Death open it. 

        “Beds.” (Y/N) answered.

        “Really? That’s it?” Hailey questioned, surprised and perhaps kindly disappointed. “I was expecting something… more. Like, deep, or wise.” 

        “You can’t expect everything to make sense in life, you know.” (Y/N) chuckled. “Sometimes things just happen. I think that’s what’s so fun about life, it’s just a mystery to be solved at the end of the line through all that hard work; or, perhaps there’s no mystery. Maybe it just coexists just like we do.” 

        “How can your answer be so boring but your follow-up be so wise?” Hailey pouted, cause (Y/N) to chuckle.

        “Hey, I never said I’d give you any special answer.” (Y/N) pointed out.

        “But, really, why beds?” Hailey questioned.

        “I just like sleeping.” (Y/N) smiled, giving part of the truth.

        “I guess it’ll suffice.” Hailey sighed, disappointed.

        “And you? What would you like to be surrounded by?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “My parents.” Hailey spoke. “And my old friends. And tons of my hair, like as much hair as Rapunzel.” 

        “That sounds nice.” (Y/N) hummed. “Though, you’d have to brush your hair all the time. Maybe it’s not so good having hair, I can’t stand mine at times.” (Y/N) spoke, trying to gently reassure Hailey.

        “Well, maybe just normal hair then. What it used to look like before.” Hailey spoke. “You’d be there too. I wouldn’t only see you when you’re working. I’d see you outside of the hospital as my friend.” 

        “What’s it matter where or how you meet? As long as we’re still friends, I don’t see any issue.” (Y/N) smiled.

        Hailey smiled, nodding. “I like that.” 

        Eventually, Hailey went quiet, no longer having any words to speak. She sat on the bench, observing her surroundings in a youthful fashion. Her eyes sparkled with life, her pulse relaxing as she enjoyed the false nature around her.

        “Thank you for staying with me.” Hailey spoke up, her volume decreasing, the sound of her raspy voice cracking more. “I know it’s probably hard for you to see me like this.”

        “Anything for you, Hails.” (Y/N) smiled, wrapping her arm around Hailey’s shoulder and giving her a gentle side-hug.

        “Thank you for not leaving me alone. It means a lot to me…” Hailey muttered, taking a few deep breaths, before eventually subduing. 

        (Y/N) glanced at the IV pole, looking at the fluids that gently flowed in Hailey’s veins, before she turned her attention back to Hailey. 

        After a few minutes, there was no movement from Hailey. No breathing. No eye movement. No leg twitching. Just nothing.

        (Y/N) took a deep breath, smelling the fake flowers and wet soil, before letting out a sob she’s been holding. 

        Hailey had so much life, and yet she died so young. She was so lively in her final moments.

        All that matters now is she’s not going to be in anymore pain and that she wasn’t scared. (Y/N) thought.

        Even if kids under 15 have a 90% chance of surviving acute lymphoblastic leukemia, it doesn’t mean it’s guaranteed. Life and death is really never a guarantee though, so it’s good to enjoy it while it lasts.

        If only (Y/N) could follow her own advice.

        (Y/N) covered her face in her hands, crying now that Hailey was gone, so she wouldn’t see her tears. This hurt way worse than any stab she could endure. 

        (Y/N) almost contemplated covering Hailey’s face with the her blanket, but she decided against it. She didn’t want to be ashamed of Hailey or her presence, she didn’t want to forget Hailey or brush her aside.

        (Y/N) stood up, deciding not to waste much time, and picked Hailey up, putting her in the wheelchair. She had such lifeless and glazed eyes, her mouth was slightly open and her arms flayed motionless as (Y/N) moved. She doesn’t look like the suddenly bright and cheerful Hailey from just a few minutes ago.

        Terminal Lucidity. It’s an unknown phenomenon that can happen before death, giving you suddenly more strength, a clearer consciousness, and even regaining memory. It’s surprisingly common, at least 88% experiencing the symptoms before death. It can happen from minutes to hours to days before death, and it has a habit of giving false hope to the patients loved ones. While it’s quite common in dementia patients, it can also happen to those with neurological problems or in some special cases those with cancer.

        In the hospital, a terminal patient suddenly acting lively and alert is usually a bad thing because it means they’re near death. It’s not quite known why, but some speculate it could be the brain’s last fight, before eventually giving in. 

        (Y/N) wheeled Hailey’s dead body to the hospital’s mortuary. She checked the body in, guessing the nearest time of death since she didn’t have a watch on her, and the cause of death. She wrote down the parental numbers so they could be contacted, before lumping her way back to the elevator.

        The ride up was deathly silent, not that anyone was in the elevator to talk to her, but it was silent in her mind too. Usually she’d at least be thinking of things to do, but she had no thoughts in her mind.

        The elevator doors opened and (Y/N) walked out. She walked back to her own hospital room, exhausted and tired. Tears threatened to escape her eyes once more, the pain of losing Hailey and the pain of her wounds piling up on her. 

        She opened the door, surprised to see Andrew there, sleeping in his wheelchair with his arms crossed. (Y/N) wasn’t sure whether to feel annoyed or happy. Annoyed because she wanted to cry and sleep, but also happy because it meant she wasn’t alone with her thoughts and feelings. 

        The door opened, jolting Andrew awake. He was probably in a light sleep, whether because he was expecting (Y/N) or because the wheelchair is uncomfortable to sleep in. Whatever the reason was, he was awake.

        His eyes trailed to (Y/N), doing his best not to smile and brighten up at her presence (that would be so lame if he did that).

        “Hey.” Andrew spoke.

        “Hey.” (Y/N) parroted, throwing her blanket at Andrew for him to use instead as she got up in her hospital bed.

        There was no point in hiding her hospital gown now that Hailey was dead, so that blanket could now be used by Andrew while she got under her own hospital bedsheets. 

        “You can go to your room, you know. I’m fine on my own.” (Y/N) spoke.

        “So? You got stabbed.” Andrew gruffed, catching the blanket and placing it down on his lap.

        “And you have two broken legs, mister. You should still be recovering after surgery.” (Y/N) scolded lightly.

        Her response caused Andrew to chuckle. Even injured and off the clock, she still worried about others. Andrew wasn’t sure if it was because she was his nurse or if she was just trying to be a decent human, but he relished the attention anyways. 

        “Ah, c’mon. I feel fine.” He chuckled. 

        (Y/N) resisted the urge to kick his leg to prove him wrong, yet she decided not to be petty today. She hummed, lying down on her bed. 

        “Is there something you want from me? Why are you here?” (Y/N) questioned, looking at the clock.

        It was 6:30 A.M. She’ll be here in the hospital until 3 P.M. She wasn’t fond of that. She needed to bury Ashley’s body and deep clean her apartment. Even though the police hopefully had no trace it was her, and hopefully they didn’t invade in her apartment and swab the place (which, they better of not considering it’d be illegal without her permission or a warrant). 

        Not really. Andrew thought.

        He just came over as soon as he heard (Y/N) was put in the emergency unit thanks to Penelope’s big mouth. He doesn’t really know why he came here, maybe just out of curiosity to see how bad she was hurt. All humans are curious when something bad happens.

        Maybe he just wanted to spend more time with her, to be happy she was here with him. It’s not like she could fight much with him, she was tired and her eyes were red.

        Red eyes. Was she crying?

        “I just figured I see you, since you’re here. It gives me something to do other than being stuck in that hospital bed.” Andrew spoke.

        “And now you’re stuck in a hospital wheelchair.” (Y/N) chuckled.

        “Forget about me. Are you okay?” Andrew questioned.

        “Yeah. I told you. It doesn’t hurt much.” (Y/N) lied, ignoring the pulses inside her wounds.

        “I wasn’t talking about that. I mean, are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying.” Andrew pointed out, leaning back in his chair as he looked at her.

        (Y/N) paused, thinking. Would it be against hospital protocol to say a patient’s status or info to someone if they’re dead? 

        Well, you only live once. And Andrew doesn’t look like a snitch. 

        “Hailey died.” (Y/N) spoke. “And, her parents weren’t there to say goodbye. Really, never visited her much either.” 

        “That sucks…” Andrew muttered.

        He’s not too sure if he could care or not. Yeah, it sucks a kid died, but why should he care about a kid he had no connection with? She died, might as well get over it.

        “It happens more than I like around here. They pass without their family around.” (Y/N) spoke. “But, I just can’t stand when the parents aren’t there for their kids. They die scared, that’s no way to die, for a kid or adult.” 

        (Y/N) spoke, looking out her window as the sun started rising. 

        She wondered where Andrew’s parents were. Why aren’t they here to visit him? Do they not know he’s here? Or perhaps they don’t want to visit their child who’s a murderer…

        “What shitty parents.” Andrew spoke with no filter.

        “Yeah,” (Y/N) chuckled, “that’s what I think too.” 

        To really care about someone you don’t have any blood-relation to, must be a special kind of bond; it’s one you can choose, not one you’re born with, unlike the one Andrew and Ashley shares.

        “So, where’s your parents?” Andrew questioned.

        “I’m an adult, I don’t need them checking up on me.” (Y/N) spoke.

        “Yeah, but, wouldn’t it be nice? A sense of security and all?” Andrew questioned.

        “Well, where’s your parents?” (Y/N) retorted, a bit annoyed.

        So what? It’s not like if she called them they’d come rushing to her. Her mother would care less seeing (Y/N) in a hospital again, and her father would probably go berserk and try to bring her back home where it was safe. 

        “Touché.” Andrew chuckled. “But I have my sister to visit me.” 

        (Y/N) mentally grimaced at that, doing her best to not make a face so Andrew wouldn’t question it. 

        Not anymore… she thought.

        Her hands suddenly felt dirty again. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she hid them in the hospital blanket. Once again, Andrew was intrigued with her hands after seeing her hide them. It’s like everything she hides them, he immediately gets curious and wants to see them. 

        He knows of the obvious self-harm scars now, he saw those when she was sleeping. And he saw the small scars and burns from everyday life, but why care so much about them? 

        Maybe it’s just something you have to go through in order to understand. You can’t understand everything on the first try, especially if you have no experience in it.

        Sure, he was admitted for jumping a rooftop, but that’s a bit different than self-harming. Jumping a rooftop is one clear goal; suicide. It has subcategories such as wanting to escape life, or having too many problems to run away from. 

        Self-harming, on the other hand, is more complex. The desire to harm yourself is there, but you don’t want to die immediately. It’s a slow steady process building up. You hurt yourself possibly because you feel ashamed, that you feel like you deserve to hurt because that’s all you’re worth. Or perhaps it’s to relieve stress or pain. There’s not always such a strong intent to die when you hurt yourself? sometimes pain is the only thing people know that they use to feel normal or detached. Perhaps they even get pressured into hurting themselves. Self-harming isn’t to die, it’s to make yourself suffer because you feel that that’s what you need. 

        The question is: what is her reasoning? 

        The question left him wondering, he was almost compelled to answer, but she didn’t look to be in a good mood, so he decided against it.

        (Y/N)’s eyes trailed to the digital recorder on her bedside. Doctor Ryan had left it on her bedside earlier, but he didn’t explain what was on it. She reached over and grabbed it, studying it.

        It was a shiny silver recorder, with a slot for polaroid photos to slip out of. (Y/N) turned on the camera, pressing a button to the camera roll. The camera roll opened, multiple short videos at least 10 or 20 seconds showing. 

        She clicked on one and turned it on, seeing a video of one of her patients. They had black hair and black eyes, sitting in their hospital bed with an IV needle in her arm and bandages around her head. She recently had surgery for a tumor in her brain, now resting in bed.

        “Hi, Ms. (L/N)! I heard you were doing unwell and I wanted to say please get better and visit me when you’re healthy!” the patient smiled.

        (Y/N) chuckled, a smile plastered on her face as she looked at the footage. Andrew wheeled his way over to her side, curious to what she was smiling at. He rested his arm on the bedside, leaning over and looking at the footage. 

        (Y/N) moved the camera in the center of them so they both could see. She clicked the next video, pressing play.

        A boy with brown hair looked at the camera, confused. “What do I say?”

        “Say get better.” Doctor Ryan whispered from behind the camera.

        “Get better.” The boy spoke.

        “Now add more to it, say nice things.” Doctor Ryan whispered, resisting the urge to chuckle. 

        “Nice things.” The kid spoke. 

        “No. What do you like about Nurse (L/N).” Doctor Ryan spoke, now using his normal volume instead of whispering.

        “I like that she’s nice.” The kid smiled.

        “Now say it to the camera.” Doctor Ryan pushed.

        “I like that you’re nice, camera.” The boy smiled, one of his front teeth were missing, only adding to the cuteness.

        “Ah, close enough.” Doctor Ryan chuckled, ending the video.

        (Y/N) giggled at the video while Andrew remained unfazed. She clicked the next video, pressing play. There was a girl inside Doctor Ryan’s office, there for an appointment. She was a frequent regular for common colds, so (Y/N) recognized her instantly. 

        “Hi, Ms. (L/N)! Please get better soon, Doctor Ryan’s handwriting is too messy! I like yours better!” she smiled.

        “Hey! It’s not messy, you just can’t read the prescriptions because it’s long words!” Doctor Ryan laughed.

        “Still bad.” The kid smiled. 

        “Oh whatever.” Doctor Ryan chuckled from behind the camera, ending the video.

        The kid was right, Doctor Ryan’s handwriting was bad. The kid would try to read the prescriptions on the paper but couldn’t read the big messy words, so (Y/N) would just simply write “cold medicine” so the girl could read it. 

        (Y/N) smiled, going through more and more videos as she chuckled and grinned at the kids, their thoughts and feelings, and seeing their current statuses. 

        She eventually got to the last video, the caption above saying it was recorded just eight hours ago, when (Y/N) was still sleeping in the hospital after surgery. 

        “Hi, Ms. (L/N)!” the patient with blonde hair smiled, revealing to be Hailey, lively and well.

        “I heard you’re unwell and I hope you get better really soon! I can’t wait to see you again and to read the books you lend me. Please get well soon, I miss you already!” Hailey smiled.

        “Wow, she looked to be getting better.” Andrew commented, pointing at the screen. “I wonder what happened…”

        Even though Hailey was lively and well, anybody with medical knowledge would know that she was doing bad.

        “Terminal lucidity.” (Y/N) answered. “Sometimes before you die, your brain acts out on a last defense. You gain more energy and strength; but it’s fruitless.” She explained.

        “Oh… that blows…” Andrew muttered.

        No wonder she seemed much more vocal and confident today than she did yesterday. He wondered if he died, would he act like that too before kicking the bucket? That must hurt for the loved ones who don’t understand. 

        “It does…” (Y/N) sighed, her mind going blank as she stared out in the distance.  

        When things become too much, it’s better not to think and just go on auto-pilot. It’s how (Y/N) went through her life when things became too much.

        It’s unhealthy, she knows that, but it helps her cope with reality. 

        She turned off the camera screen, burning a hole into her lap as she looked at the black screen. She spaced out, going motionless.

        Andrew noticed, unsure whether to speak up or not. She was obviously feeling distraught and he wasn’t sure if she should be wallowing in her feelings or not.

        Auto-pilot took over and decided it wanted her to cry. Tears started pouring down her face before she knew it, only causing Andrew to shift uncomfortably in his chair. He sighed, grabbing her hand and holding it. 

        “Hey… it’s okay.” Andrew spoke awkwardly. 

        “No, it’s not.” She spoke, her voice cracking. “All these kids, they shouldn’t have to go through this so young. They shouldn't be in pain or dying.” 

        It’s admirable, her care for others. It must take a good heart to do that, always worrying about others instead of herself. Andrew wondered if he was like that before all this happened. Was he a good person before he jumped and lost most of his memory? 

        No, probably not. This is reality, not a dream. He doubts that he was a good person, judging by the way he acted with Ashley the past three months he could remember. His parents ignored his calls, his girlfriend broke up with him on the phone, and he killed multiple people and even ate his neighbor!

        Yeah, definitely not a good person.

        “There, there…” Andrew muttered awkwardly, squeezing her hand hesitantly. “Sometimes things just happen?”

        “But they shouldn’t happen to kids. They’ve been brought in this world just to get taken out when life has barely even started for them. These poor kids.” She cried, squeezing Andrew’s hand tightly for comfort. “They shouldn’t be wanted to die so early on. They should be enjoying life, not wondering when it’ll end.” 

        Normally, she’d just hide her feelings or bottle it up until she got home, but she can’t even go home and cry because she has a body to bury and a apartment to clean. 

        Life just keeps piling up on her more and more. It feels like a never ending cycle of pain. The only time she even feels happy now in reality, without sleeping, is seeing kids happy and smiling. How can she be happy if they keep dying? How can she be happy if these kids keep getting their happiness robbed?

        Andrew contemplated what he should do. Should he let her vent? Should he try and comfort her more? Should he offer her to shut up and shove advice down her throat? 

        He decided it was probably best to just comfort her, he’d rather not see her cry. She can be emotional outside of his vision. As much as he likes this nurse, he hates sensitive people; maybe he just doesn’t like seeing someone he favors crying. 

        Andrew sighed, reaching over and placing both his hands on her face, wiping the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs. 

        “Hey, don’t cry.” He spoke. “It doesn’t look good on you, you know?”         

        (Y/N) sniffled as she tried to speak. The muscles in her throat felt restricting, preventing her from putting them to use, so she only just shook her head.

        “That video showed Hailey saying that she wanted you to get better, right?” Andrew pointed out, wiping the tears into her skin. 

        (Y/N) nodded, unsure of where he was trying to go with this.

        “So, she knew you weren’t feeling good, even when she wasn't doing good herself She cares about your health. Do you think crying would make her happy?” Andrew questioned. “I think it would just worry her about you. You wouldn’t want her to worry about you, would you?” 

        (Y/N) shook her head, her shoulders shaking from her sobs. 

        "You were there for her when no one else was? Isn't that all that matters in a kid's final moments?" Andrew questioned.

        Andrew's right, at least they didn't die alone. Dying alone must be one of the worst ways to die, alone to succumb to your own thoughts and regrets of what could've happen and what did. It must be worse slowly deteriorating over time, at least dying quick you wouldn't be alone with your thoughts, but dying alone just leaves your thoughts, which slowly fade over time the more and more you stop living and just start existing, before even you lose that too. 

        Yeah, being alone sucks, (Y/N) can vouch for that. Coming home to an empty house with nobody to greet you, eating meals alone, waking up alone and going to sleep alone, shopping alone. It's kind of like dying alone in one way. You're just waiting for that time to come when eventually you stop doing those other things, so you just go on autopilot and wait. Of course, she could easily change all that by dating someone or getting a pet for at home, but it's just so exhausting trying to find a good person to spend the rest of your life with. 

        There's a reason so many people are single in the dating pool. Besides, she doubts anyone would want to date her with her work schedule; she sleeps in the day and either works at night or stays up at night on her days off. Let's not forget how she's constantly tired and depressed, dating someone like her would be such a buzzkill, you'd have to be desperate; at least that's what her mother said to her last time they met up for dinner. 

        (Y/N)’s tears stopped, realizing Andrew was right. Hailey wouldn’t want her crying, and if (Y/N) died, she wouldn’t want to be sad either.

        (Y/N)’s sadness was soon replaced with embarrassment once she realized she was crying. Crying in front of a man and have the audacity to rely on him for her own emotions. It only makes it worse that he was her patient. This must be wrong in some way to be touching her patient like this, considering Andrew isn’t in any need of reassurance she should be providing as his nurse. 

        She pushed him away rather quickly, wiping her own tears out of her eyes instead of him doing it for her. Andrew looked confused, mentally wondering if he did something wrong. 

        Why the sudden change?

        (Y/N) adverted her eyes from his face, feeling childish and insecure for crying in front of someone. Even if he was pretty handsome to her, she’d rather not see the pity, or any other sort of expression on his face. 

        Andrew felt a bit annoyed at the sudden change. He was just holding her and comforting her. She was even leaning against him and crying into his chest! Why did she suddenly push him away? Why did she suddenly not want him anymore?

        His eye unconsciously twitched, showing his mild annoyance as a tinge of insecurity washed over him. Before he could question the sudden change of heart, the door opened, Penelope walking into the room.

        Penelope’s face brightened once she saw (Y/N), before it dropped noticing Andrew. Penelope suddenly became skittish, playing with her fingers as she avoided Andrew’s gaze (glare). 

        “Um… Mr. Graves, you’re not supposed to be here at night. It’s protocol for patients to be in their rooms in the night.” Penelope muttered, her green eyes staring down at the white tiles. “Should I escort you back to your room?”

        “No.” He spoke quickly, wanting nothing to do with Penelope.

        Andrew looked back at (Y/N), his gaze softening just a bit as he looked a bit concerned for her. He didn’t want to leave her. What if she needed help with something? What if she cried some more? What if she needed him?

        Andrew mentally groaned, conflicted with his emotions. He unlocked his wheelchair and wheeled to the door, Penelope stepping to the side so he could pass by her. 

        “You can come back during visiting hours.” Penelope added quietly, resulting in a harsh glare from Andrew.

        If only looks could kill.

        Penelope watched as Andrew left the room, before she closed the door behind her for privacy.

        “Gosh, he’s just so intimidating…” Penelope groaned, taking a seat in the room’s guest chair. 

        “He’s not so bad…” (Y/N) hummed, smiling.

        (Y/N)’s not too sure why Penelope’s afraid of Andrew. Sure, he’s a man, but he’s not really intimidating. Perhaps she’s grown desensitized to him and his menacing aura. 

        Or you know, perhaps she just likes red flags. A killer cannibal certainly is a red flag, but that’s just a theory.

        Besides, what’s he gonna do with two broken legs? Punch her? Penelope just has to climb up on the hospital bed or take the stairs. 

        Penelope took in (Y/N)’s appearance, a frown making way on her face.

        "Oh, you poor thing!" she spoke, the words sounding degrading enough, especially after (Y/N) was just crying a few minutes ago. "Who could do such a thing to you?"

        "Who knows..." (Y/N) muttered, ignoring the sudden shock of anger shooting through her.

        She looked at Andrew. Why did Penelope look at Andrew? Yeah, she was searching for him to bring him back to his room, but did she have to advert her eyes and mutter like a damn school girl? 

        The sudden jealousy pissed (Y/N) off, why was she acting like this? Why did she care? What does Penelope even want?

        "Did you need something?" (Y/N) questioned, not doing too well to hide her annoyance.

        Luckily, Penelope was a bit oblivious, yet still seemed a bit on edge.

        "Oh, sorry... Well, before I speak, how do you feel? Do you need anything? Food or water? Painkillers?" Penelope questioned.

        "I'm doing fine..." (Y/N) spoke, gritting her teeth as she smiled.

        "Good. Well, did you hear the news about that patient? Andrew Graves?" Penelope questioned.

        "What about him?" (Y/N) questioned, glancing at Penelope suspiciously as another volt of jealousy shot through her. 

        "Well, I did some digging online, and I found out he's wanted!" Penelope spoke, her voice a bit too loud for her liking.

        "So?" (Y/N) questioned, already knowing this information, before she quickly switched up her attitude, realizing that wasn't an appropriate social response. "Wait, what? Wanted? Like, by the police?" 

        "Yes!" Penelope nodded, leaning closer to (Y/N) in her chair as she spoke. "Wanted for murder! They said he killed four people at their old apartment. Him and his sister, Ashley. They even said one of the bodies had meat cut off it and it was cut up in pieces! They found DNA and blood in their kitchen, on the counter and pots and silverware!" 

        Well, the police only has to worry about one sibling now... (Y/N) thought to herself. 

        (Y/N) stayed silent, unsure of what a functioning human would respond to this. Honestly, she's grown quite comfortable with the fact Andrew is a killer and a cannibal. 

        "I mean, that's just... vile! And disgusting! How could someone do that?" Penelope questioned, her face turning as green as her eyes. 

        "Why did they do it?" (Y/N) questioned.

        "H-huh?" Penelope questioned, surprised. "What do you mean? They kill four people and ate one! They must be insane or something." 

        "Let's not jump to conclusions. We don't know why they did it." (Y/N) spoke. "Penelope, we should know better than anyone else that people act out for reasons. We're nurses, we deal with mental breakdowns and patients lashing out all the time, and we know they have motives behind it." 

        "Yeah, but that's a medical setting, when something's generally wrong with them! Andrew seems stable enough!" Penelope spoke. "He must've knew what he was doing!" 

        "Peer pressure?" (Y/N) suggested. "Perhaps his act is a facade? We don't know a person's thoughts or feelings. For all we knew, they could've been in a dire situation. I mean, who just randomly kills four people in one day and run? Something must've happened."

        Penelope looked frustrated, her bottom lip pouting as she clenched her fists. "And? So? Why should we care?! He killed four people, you know! We need to call the police!"

        "No! You can't!" (Y/N) quickly shot up from the bed, flinching as she felt a stabbing pain in her stomach where her wound was. 

        "What? Why not?" Penelope questioned, surprised at the sudden outburst as she leaned back in her chair. "Why are you defending him? We're nurses! We need to help protect people. He could hurt someone else here!" 

        "No! You can't take him!" (Y/N) shouted, throwing the bedsheets off her and rushing to Penelope, ignoring the pain shooting throughout her body as she placed both of her hands on the arm chairs, caging Penelope in. "You can't do that! I won't let you."

        "W-what? W-why are you acting like this?" Penelope squeaked, her hands pressing together as she curled herself up in a ball, sinking herself down in her chair as she stared up at (Y/N), frightened.

        (Y/N) paused, realizing the sudden position she put herself in. Damn it! Why did she just lash out like that? She's never like this! Why can't she just let Andrew go? She needed to think of something quick to diffuse this situation and convince Penelope not to report Andrew.

        "Don't you understand? The police are just going to keep him here until he heals up to where he can go to jail. If you report him now and he's aware of that, he might snap and actually hurt people." (Y/N) spoke, trying to come up with a false reason. "You'll just enrage him and give him a motive to hurt others. He hasn't injured anyone severely these past days, only a few books and hits thrown because he was afraid of us recognizing him and calling the police."

        Penelope looked uncertain, contemplating whether she should listen to the younger and injured nurse in front of her. 

        "B-but—" Penelope started, but was cut off by (Y/N).

        "Penelope, please. Don't be an idiot. Don't do something so unfathomably stupid!" (Y/N) pleaded.

        Just make the idea look stupid. Just act like Penelope's the one being insensible. 

        "He could really hurt someone if the police come and tell him he's arrested. They're just going to explain that he's under arrest, and will be escorted to prison once the doctors deem him healthy enough to go. He'll just be here, drugged up from his surgeries, and that could cause him to not think sensibly, it'll make him more of a hazard to others. We can't afford that, Penelope." (Y/N) explained. 

        Penelope adverted her eyes, (Y/N)'s words seeming to sink into her as she started to appear ashamed of what she was previously proposing.        

        "So... what now?" Penelope questioned. "He's not going to be able to stay here long anyways. We have no emergency contacts to contact for him. He has no records inside our hospital. He can't even fill out any of our forms or such because of his amnesia, either that or he's pretending to not to know the information." Penelope explained. "He doesn't have health insurance or can't remember it, and I doubt he can afford the hospital bills if he can't even remember anything! He probably doesn't even know his banking information if he has it!" 

        “If we tell him that, it’ll be bothersome…” (Y/N) explained. “I mean… he could get mad and hurt someone.”

        “Exactly!” Penelope exclaimed. “I-I don’t know what to do! Should we bring this up to HR or the head nurse?” 

        “No.” (Y/N) spoke quickly. “I-I mean, c’mon? It’s hard to trust these so-called professionals. The hospital is notorious for its accidents and fatalities. I mean, we're all working here because we were rejected by other hospitals because of our questionable backgrounds and court filings! For gods sake, there’s an advisement a town from here that has a doctor suggesting anesthesia for depression and it has our hospital name on it! We can't trust the board for anything!"

        “But… what can we do?” Penelope questioned, feeling hopeless.

        “We’re the smartest nurses in this whole shithole,” (Y/N) spoke.

        Maybe it was an exaggeration, but she needed Penelope to believe her, or at least stop her from reporting Andrew so that he could escape.

        Why does she care so much about a wrongdoer? He should be in prison, he should pay for what he’s done, but for some reason there’s a stabbing sensation in her chest at just the thought of not seeing him again. The feeling was almost as painful as the bleeding wound she currently had.

        She needed new bandages, she’s been putting too much stress her body. She would ask Penelope, but she’d rather not stick around with Penelope any longer. Sure, having Penelope around would make it so she’s less likely to snitch, but there’s also the possibility that she could potentially catch (Y/N)’s unnatural behavior and go back on her words. 

        "I-I just... what if we're making the wrong choice? I can't stand the thought that someone can get hurt." Penelope spoke.

        (Y/N) almost felt sorry for the young nurse. The nurse was only three years older than her, yet she seems utterly more helpless in life than (Y/N). Penelope has a bad luck streak with everything. She's terrible at math and doing her taxes. She's terrible at thinking for herself. She's grown up from foster home to foster home. Every relationship she's been in has been disastrous. 

        (Y/N) would care if Penelope didn’t have such an unhealthy obsession about finding love. The whole reason she became a nurse was to try and nurse someone to health so they’d love her; it’s almost sad, really.

        “I just can’t believe it…” Penelope groaned, burying her face into her hands. “Why are the cute guys always so unstable?”

        Nevermind. (Y/N) doesn’t feel sad for her at all. Absolutely no pity. Void of emotion. She was almost considering the idea of murdering Penelope. Seriously, you're caring about how cute a guy is despite him being a major threat to your life? Should you really be focusing on a cannibal's looks. 

        (Y/N) decided to bite her tongue. There was no reason to start a fight (that, and maybe she's just a bit guilty of this as well...) It still didn't stop the bubbling pot boiled inside her stomach and chest as she glared at Penelope though. 

        “Penelope, can you go find my nurse? I need a new change of bandages.” (Y/N) grumbled, desperate for Penelope to leave her as she sat back down on her bed, wincing as she overstrained herself once more.

        Maybe cornering and intimidating a person while injured isn’t the best course of action.

        “O-oh, right! Sure!” Penelope spoke, popping up from her makeshift ball as she stood up from her chair. “Whats your nurse’s name? I’ll go find them.” 

        “I don’t know their name. I didn’t met them, only my doctor.” (Y/N) explained.

        “Oh, okay then. Well, I’ll ask around and see if I can find them.” Penelope spoke, walking to the door. “Door open or closed?” 

        “Close it.” (Y/N) answered.

        Penelope nodding, closing the door and leaving (Y/N) to her own devices. (Y/N) let out a sigh of relief that Penelope was gone; however, there were other things to worry about.

        She needed to figure out a way to solve the Andrew situation. She could talk to Andrew herself and see if he has any insurance. She might be able to judge if he’s lying or not about knowing anything, if Andrew’s a good liar or not, that is. 

        She almost felt compelled to leave her room and go to Andrew’s. She could tell him what happens; no health insurance means paying the full entirety of the bills, which could be five digits to possibly even six after all his car, special requests/needs, surgeries, and days he’s spent admitted.

        It’s fine… she just needs to sleep. She can deal with it another day. If she sleeps now, time will pass quicker and she can get discharged. 

        She closed her eyes, seeing nothing but darkness as she used her drawback to escapism once more, distancing herself from reality as she did her best not to think about her patient.

And chapter 5 is done! I do apologize for it being so long, I wasn't planning on it being so long but I guess I did get a bit carried away... Chapter 6 will have quite a bit of drama and new characters being introduced! Now I just have to get chapter 6 done... which I'm unsure of when will be done, but it's in the works already! Thank you for your patience and for reading, and I'm excited for you all to see the development of (Y/N) and Andrew!

Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is OPEN for questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, not for request!

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, chapter 4, current chapter, chapter 6, Chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9 (in the works)

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

[forestdeath1]

I see many Snape Stans (I dislike Snape but I see why he turned out the way he did) saying James sexually assaulted him, especially on TikTok, when it’s not the truth at all, we don’t know if he ever actually took off his pants because and it wasn’t his fault that Snape wasn’t wearing any trousers. While he did bully him he never sexually assaulted him, and so many people are now saying this and I’m just flabbergasted, why did no one read the books? Why does everyone get their informations off TikTok and Twitter?

I don't really like this topic, to be honest. But here's how I perceive it.

1. In the canon, as far as I remember, it wasn't even implied that wizards wore trousers under their robes. They all just wore their underwear. And Lupin says:

"Oh, that one had a great vogue during my time at Hogwarts," said Lupin reminiscently. "There were a few months in my fifth year when you couldn’t move for being hoisted into the air by your ankle."

"Yes," he said, "but he wasn't the only one. As I say, it was very popular. . . . You know how these spells come and go. . . ."

So Snape not only created this spell himself, but it also became popular at school. So many students were hanging upside down, showing off their underwear.

From this, we can infer that wizards perceived it slightly differently than we do now, and even than Harry. It was "fun" bullying, but nothing more. Even Lupin himself sounds like he's justifying it, although he probably got hung upside down too ("There were a few months in my fifth year when you couldn’t move for being hoisted into the air by your ankle.").

2. We don't know for sure if James ended up taking Snape's pants off. Logically speaking, JKR simply didn't describe it, assuming that he did. Given the time the book was written, she probably didn't intend to invest it with such a horrible meaning. This all happens in the 70s in the WW. For our time, of course, it's SA. And that's awful. But the perception of that time could leave its mark. For example, when I was in school, many things that are now considered "awful" were seen as "not so bad". Those who did those awful things back then didn't even really understand how awful their actions truly were. Society evolves and we increasingly respect people's personal psychological and physical boundaries. What we didn't perceive as SA back then is considered SA today. A simple example you've probably seen in movies, spanking children was considered normal and right. That's how society raised those people. Surely today those same people wouldn't spank their children, because they would understand it's bad.

So it's likely that nobody at school perceived this action as SA. Moreover, James always played to the crowd. And if he really, according to the author's intention, took Snape's pants off, and the whole school saw it as normal, and didn't start looking at James with disgust... it raises big questions for the school students, doesn't it? If my friend did this today, he wouldn't be my friend anymore. Most people would look at such a person with disgust. But James's popularity didn't diminish at all.

This brings us back to the fact that nobody back then saw it as worse than bullying. So the society of that time hadn't yet formed enough understanding of what SA was and how bad it was to expose someone else's genitals. So James didn't fully understand either how awful it was, much more awful than pink bubbles out of your mouth or doubling someone's head in size. So for them it was all on the same level — taking someone's pants off or making them hang upside down or doubling their head in size.

I'm not justifying it, but the wizarding world is pretty harsh. Neville was thrown out of a window, Harry almost killed Draco, Fred and George literally made a kid disappear for a week, and Hermione kept Rita Skeeter captive in a jar for over a month. All of this is awful, but the wizarding world operates by different moral standards.

If judged in terms of our morality, there are almost no morally pure characters in these books.

I especially don't understand Snape stans (I mean I like Snape, but I don’t understand their logic). In terms of our morality, both Snape and James deserve to be punished. Snape would have got a much bigger sentence for joining and helping a terrorist organisation. What are Snape stans trying to prove? That Snape was better? No, he wasn't. They're all arseholes in terms of the muggle world of 2024.

[fanfictionalraven]

Dream Warriors Chapter 7

Title: Dream Warriors Chapter 7

Summary: The story jumps back a few days. The pieces fall into place.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, other original characters

Word Count: 2,438

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Author’s Note: I didn't realize how short this one was. I hope things make sense.

Read Chapter 6 here.

*Three Days Earlier* 

You step out of the steamy shower and grab the nearby towel, drying your arms and legs off quickly. You, Dean, and Sam had just gotten back to the bunker after a long hunt and the shower had been the perfect remedy for your achy, tense muscles. Wrapping the towel around yourself tight, you step out into the hallway. Normally, you wouldn’t have risked a towel-clad run through the halls of the bunker but you’d been in such a rush to get under the hot water you hadn’t bothered to grab your clothes. You round a corner and run smack into a plaid covered chest. Dean’s arm catches you at the waist quickly. 

“Whoa, Sweetheart,” he says, looking down at you. The two of you stand there for a moment before Dean clears his throat and lets you go. You tighten your grip on the towel as you take an awkward step away from your best friend. “I, ugh…I was just coming to find you actually.” 

“What’s up?” You ask. 

���Sammy found a case,” he says. You blink and shake your head slightly. 

“Another one? We just got back,” you tell him. He shrugs his shoulders. 

“Says it’s a witch and he already knows who it is. Quickie,” he says with a wink. You let out a laugh and nod. “You don’t have to go. You took a pretty big hit on this last one. Rest up and we should be back by the end of the night.” 

“Hell, no, Winchester,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “You two don’t get to have all the fun around here. Now, let me go get dressed. I don’t like the way you’re leering at me.” 

“I don’t leer,” Dean says, stepping aside. Winking at him, you rush past and down to your bedroom. 

You throw on the first set of clothes you find before taking care of your wet head. A few minutes later, you meet Sam and Dean in the garage. Both are leaned against the Impala waiting. Dean laughs and shakes his head. 

“You gotta quit raiding my closet when I’m not home,” he says. You raise an eyebrow at him. 

“What?” You ask. 

“That’s my shirt,” he says, pointing to the oversized plaid shirt you’re wearing. You look at it then back at him and shrug. 

“Is that a problem?” You ask, crossing your arms. He smirks as he looks you over. 

“Not even remotely,” he says. Sam rolls his eyes and turns to get in the car, mumbling something about being disgusted. 

“You’re leering again, Winchester,” you tell him before going around to the backdoor of the car. Dean rolls his eyes as he gets in as well. 

It’s only about an hour drive to their possible witch’s house. You and Dean spend the drive annoying Sam by singing obnoxiously to Dean’s old cassettes. Dean parks the car across the street from the house and Sam quickly shuts the radio off. 

“That was my favorite song!” You protest. Sam shoots a look back at you before pointing to the house. 

“Kaylee Morgan,” he says. 

“And why do we think she’s our witch?” Dean asks, pulling his gun out. Sam glances at him. 

“Well, she hasn’t exactly been hiding her feelings about a couple of strange deaths in town,” he explains. You nod slightly as you look at the house. 

“Okay. Well…that doesn’t mean she’s behind it,” you object. Sam nods and pulls his phone out. 

“I went through her social media, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter,” he starts, scrolling. “Two weeks ago, she checked in at a bookstore. A weird, old bookstore with weird, old books. She posted this picture.” He shows the two of you a picture of a book. 

“Weird and old. Sure,” you say, nodding. Sam switches screens on his phone. 

“It’s an old witchcraft book. Like…worse than the Grimoire we have,” he explains. “A few days later, she literally tagged both of the victims in a post telling them to watch out.” 

“Did the cops check her out?” Dean asks. Sam nods. 

“They did but there wasn’t anything to link her to the crimes so they cleared her. But their deaths were definitely…witchy. Called the medical examiner and guess what he found on each of the two bodies?” 

“Hex bags?” You ask. 

“Hex bags,” Sam says, smiling. Dean nods then shrugs his shoulders. 

“Well this should be easy enough. What do you say we waste the bitch then go hit that diner we passed on the way in?” He asks, holding his gun up. 

“We still need to make sure,” you tell Dean, leaning over the front seat. You pop open the glove box and dig around briefly before pulling a badge out. You check the ID quickly to make sure it’s one of yours then fall back into the seat. “I’ll go in. Talk to her. See what I can get.” 

“What? By yourself?” Dean asks. You shrug and pull your phone out. 

“I’ll leave you on speaker. If you hear anything, come running,” you tell them as you call Dean. He takes his phone out and puts it on speaker before muting it. 

“Y/N,” he says as you open the door. You look back at him and he’s frowning. “Be careful.” 

“Always,” you say with a wink before getting out quickly. Glancing down the street, you rush across to the house. You knock on the door and look around the porch as you wait. It opens a moment later and you smile at the petite blonde behind it. “Ms. Morgan?” 

“Yes?” She asks, eyeing you skeptically. You pull the ID from your pocket and show it to her through the crack. 

“FBI. Agent Prince. Can I have a word with you?” You ask. She frowns as she looks at it then back at you. 

“I already talked to the police. They let me go,” she says. You smile and nod, pocketing the ID once again. 

“I understand. This is just a follow-up. Won’t take long. I promise,” you assure her. She watches you for a moment before sighing and pulling the door open all the way. Stepping inside, you look around. The house is decorated simply enough, nothing seemingly suspicious. “I like your hair,” you comment on her blue and green streaks as you follow her into the living room. She looks back at you as she takes a seat in a chair. 

“Can we skip the fake pleasantries and get on with it?” She asks. You force a smile and nod, sitting on the sofa across from her. 

“Sure. You knew the victims?” You ask. She shrugs her shoulders, crossing her arms. 

“We graduated together. They were a-holes,” she tells you. You nod slightly. 

“What? Bullies?” You ask. She shrugs her shoulders once again. “Why did you threaten them?” 

“I didn’t,” she says. 

“You tagged them…” 

“In one little post telling them they needed to be careful who they piss off, sure. But there was no threat,” she argues. You nod once as you watch her. “Besides, how would I have done it? I’m a college dropout. Didn’t their hearts explode or something?” 

“Well, it doesn’t take a college degree to Google something or…I don’t know…read a book,” you say. She tenses up slightly and you smile. “Anything sounding familiar?” 

“No. I don’t think so. Excuse me,” she says, standing suddenly. You watch as she leaves the living room quickly. You take your phone out and hold it closer. “She’s definitely hiding something,” you say quietly. 

“We’re coming up,” Dean says before ending the call. You rise to your feet and start to walk around the living room, casually looking for clues. 

“Are your friends coming?” Kaylee asks, suddenly behind you again. You spin around and raise an eyebrow at her. 

“Pardon?” You ask. 

“You’re a hunter, right? Your friends out in that old junker. You tell them I’m a witch?” She asks. Your eyes narrow and you take a swing, hitting her square in the jaw. She stumbles back and grabs a nearby vase, smashing it against your head. Your ears begin to ring and you blink as you take a step away. The door opens and Sam and Dean come rushing into the house. 

“Y/N!!” Dean calls out. Kaylee looks over as Dean and Sam step into the room. 

“Time to go,” she says. “Somnium clipeum!” She throws a handful of powder at you and everything goes black as you fall to the floor. Dean’s eyes widen as he looks around. 

“Y/N!!” He rushes to your side and drops to his knees, checking your pulse. “She’s alive. Where the hell did that witch go?” 

“I don’t know. She…she literally disappeared,” Sam says before running into the next room. 

“Y/N,” Dean says, shaking you slightly. “Y/N, you gotta wake up, Sweetheart.” Sam comes back into the room and shakes his head. 

“She’s just gone,” he says. Dean frowns and moves to lift your body into his arms. 

“She hit Y/N with something. We gotta get her to a hospital,” he tells his brother. Sam nods and rushes to the front door.

They get your body out to the car and Dean gets into the backseat, holding you close. “Come on, Y/N, please.” He pleads and begs constantly the entire drive to the hospital, trying to wake you up. Sam pulls the car into the parking lot of a local hospital. The two brothers get you into the emergency room and a couple of nurses jump up from the desk. One runs down the hall as the other approaches. 

“What happened?” She asks, checking your pulse quickly. Dean shakes his head. 

“She just fell out,” he says. The second nurse returns with a stretcher and Dean lays you on it. They begin to push you back and Dean starts to follow before the nurse stops him. 

“You need to wait here,” she tells him. Sam touches his brother’s shoulder and the two move into the waiting room together. Dean falls into a chair and runs his hands over his face. 

“I shouldn’t have let her go in alone,” he says. Sam sighs and shakes his head. 

“Dean, we didn’t know. We didn’t think she’d be in that much danger,” he tries to comfort his brother. 

A few minutes later, the first nurse comes back into the waiting room. Dean jumps up and rushes over to her, Sam right behind him. She smiles at them, reassuringly. 

“We don’t have anything yet. They’re still working on her. I need you to fill out the paperwork though,” she says, handing Dean a clipboard. He nods slightly as he takes it. 

“Right…right,” he says before returning to his seat. Sam sits next to him and watches over his shoulder as Dean begins to fill out the paper. He raises an eyebrow as he writes a name. 

“Y/N Winchester?” He asks. Dean shrugs slightly. 

“If they think I’m her husband, they’ll let me go back and see her more easily,” Dean says, not looking up. Sam watches with amazement as Dean moves through the paperwork quickly and easily, not having to think about a single answer. 

“She’s allergic to Tylenol?” He asks. Dean looks at him and nods. 

“Yea? You didn’t know that?” He asks. Sam shakes his head slightly. 

“Why would I know that?” He asks. Dean shrugs and looks back at the paper. He checks to make sure everything is filled out before going back to the desk. 

“My wife’s paperwork,” he says, handing it to the nurse. She smiles and thanks him. 

The two sit. They pace. They wait. Four hours later, a doctor comes into the waiting room and looks around. 

“Winchester?” He asks. Dean, who had been standing at a window, rushes over. 

“My wife. Is she awake??” He asks quickly. The doctor frowns and shakes his head. Sam sighs as he walks over as well. 

“We have no idea what is going on. Everything seems perfectly normal. By all accounts, she should be awake,” he says. Dean stares at him and shakes his head. 

“So…you’ve got nothing?” He asks. 

“I’m sorry. You two can go back to her. Talk to her, it might help,” he says. Dean runs a hand over his jaw and nods. 

“Yea, okay,” he says.

The doctor leads the two Winchesters down the hall to the room where you’re lying, still unconscious. Dean frowns as he takes in the tubes and wires, connected to you, keeping you alive. Sam pats his older brother on the shoulder before walking around to the other side of the bed. 

“Ugh…hey, Y/N. I don’t know if you can hear us but…we really need you to come back,” he says, reaching out and touching your arm. He stays there for a moment before clearing his throat and looking up. “I think…I’m gonna go back to that house. See if I can find the book and what spell she used.” Dean nods once and Sam leaves the room quickly. The older brother walks over to the bed slowly and falls into a chair next to you. He sits and watches you for a moment before reaching over and taking your hand. 

“Y/N,” he says before shaking his head and looking away. “This is stupid.” 

“I’ve seen it work before,” a woman says from the door. Dean turns and looks to find a nurse. She smiles at him as she walks over. “Sorry. Just came to check her IV.” She picks up the chart at the edge of the bed before looking at the machine. “It does seem a bit ridiculous. Talking to someone who can’t talk back. You aren’t sure if she can hear you or not. But…surprisingly, it does work.” 

“What do I say?” He asks, shaking his head. She smiles and shrugs. 

“Anything. Tell her about your day. Tell her you love her. Do you have kids?” She asks. Dean lets out a small laugh and shakes his head. “Maybe don’t talk about the kids then.” 

“Thank you,” he tells her. She nods and leaves the room. Dean looks back at you and sighs. “Look, don’t kick my ass over the whole wife thing when you wake up. It was just so I could be here without any questions.” He pauses and swallows back tears. “You gotta come back to me, Y/N. You gotta. I can’t…I can’t fight this fight without you. You’re…everything. My best friend. My rock. You’re the only reason I have any hope these days. Please, come back.” 

Read Chapter 8 here.

Forever Tags: @roseblue373

Jensen Tags: @call-me-mrs-winchester

Dream Warriors: @aylacavebear @winharry @djs8891 @suckitands33 @rickgrimeswifeu @deans-spinster-witch @jackles010378 @foxyjwls007 @alisycsa @lailawinchesterr @urinternetmom @justrealizedimmascifygurl @kr804573 @thej2report @just-levyy @snowayumi @deans-baby-momma @demons-eats-pie-too @brightlilith @kazsmr67 @onlyangel444

[alwaysxlarrie]

harry is louis’ baby fic rec masterlist part 2 :)

hi hello, so, i actually started putting together this masterlist at the end of april (since then, ‘ain’t that a kick in the head!’ has been deleted, which was on the original list. big rip) but then life just kept getting in the way. & i have like 57485 fic rec masterlists that i want to get out but i wanted to post this one first, so. here i am. i usually do 50 fics per rec list, but this is 25. so it seems i can do a (semi) shorter fic rec list. who would’ve thought? anyway, enjoy!!

a million roses (bathed in rock n’ roll) by deLILAh

i’d come across this fic a number of times before i actually read it because i don’t listen to lana del rey (thank you jennifer & @hlkings for showing me the wonders of her music) so i wasn’t sure if i’d be able to follow the storyline. but!!! worry not. that knowledge isn’t required. amazing strangers to lovers, good smut, 10/10 relationship development & individual character development 

and the truth shall set you free... by @jaerie / jaerie

jaerie knows i love this fic. my friends know i love this fic. i’m pretty sure most of the world’s population knows too. the relationship development in general & portrayal of inexperienced!harry/experienced!louis is top tier. it’s interesting reading harry going through his journey, in a generally pretty accurate way (from the perspective of someone who grew up religious), so i love that it’s in harry’s pov. i love how louis goes from teasing to soft to guiding so naturally, as well.

a rose, by any other name by @canonlarry / iwillpaintasongforlou

this fic portrays protective louis so well while harry’s still independent & in charge of his own autonomy. there’s some mentions of violence in this, just a disclaimer, but it’s veryyyyy minor! really good (dark) plot twist at the end too!

a cage for every ugly spirit by sarcasticfluentry

listennnnnnnnnnnnn. this fic??? & it’s sequel???? amazing. top tier. i just love how all the different elements of religion, kink, romance, smut, etc connect

be my little good luck charm by 100percentsassy

the flirting!!!!!! my heart!!!!!!!!!! i know larry hitting it off right away is a canon trope & all that but it’s not always easy to write in a way that doesn’t feel rushed & this fic depicts that perfectly. there’s so much wonderful humor, fluffy moments & lots of domesticness.

baby we could be enough (i’ll make this feel like home) by orphan account

i am an absolute sucker for fics where either harry or louis is a single father & the other one just swoops into their life & fits. & that’s exactly how this fic is. i’m not an angst person at all, but i also love how there’s realistic angst/concerns that a single parent would have about bringing another person into their lives. other than that bit, there’s still a whole lotta fluff !!

breathless for eternity by cabinbythesea

wow another fic where they’re strangers, hit it off immediately & have the cutest dynamic!! i’m a walking cliché atp but listen, although this is mostly pwp imo, the way louis picks up on harry’s mannerisms, what he needs as a sub, how to tease, etc is beautiful???? that takes talented writing!! we love to see it?? thank you for this???

boy for sale by @ohpleaselarry / ohpleaselarry

i mean, listen. do be mindful of the tags & what not, but. at the very core, harry is simply louis’ baby & you will not be convincing me otherwise. i would absolutely die for a prequel or a sequel. the undertones throughout this fic are *chef’s kiss*

baby thinking of you keeps me up all night by ballsdeepinjesus

i am nothing if not consistent with loving famous!louis/fanboy!harry fics, alright? you gotta give me that at least. the internal struggle louis goes through throughout the majority of this fic is so funny but also so real of him??? plus, we love thigh fucking here, so. a winner in my book!

do not falter (there’s a star ahead) by @londonfoginacup / ladylondonderry

all you need in life is harry feeling safe surrounded by louis’ scent. shit, me too, harold. there’s so much cuteness in such a short lil fic & altho it’s open ended, we all know they got together & lived happily ever after, thank you v much

gotta get (me) outta my head by @parmahamlarrie / parmahamlarrie

i have severe adult adhd & the way bee wrote this is phenomenal at making anyone who has adhd feel so seen & understood. i dream about writing my struggles w adhd as wonderfully as she did. & the way louis helps harry & is there for her in just the right ways so, so fantastically done. top tier fic for sure. 

heartbeat (fire on fire) by @larryficwriter / theifinlife

this fic was written for my @notjustsmutficfest & i adore it. louis being so vulnerable to comfort harry, louis’ family being so supportive, the check ins during the smut, the way harry makes sure louis is okay too??? I’M CRYING PEOPLE (also, there’s great smut, too)

i love this feeling (but i hate this part) by @lululawrence / lululawrence

i love the crack mixed with cute dynamic mixed with dealing with very real life situations. & the teasing at the end????? i cry!!! give this a read asap rocky

i’ll crash until you notice me by @aliensingucci / stylinsoncity

i love the pacing & how it brings in realistic elements of a boss/employee relationship while not taking out you out of the fic. top tier smut & dirty talk. the bar + bathroom scene??? that shit was art. also i love how much harry went to bat for the natives & kept coaxing louis to respect the culture of the buildings & all that. (like it’s the bare minimum really but i do like the fact that the fic went into that aspect & acknowledged it!)

late night talking by @kingsofeverything / kingsofeverything

this is simply just me continuing to not let lauren forget how much i love this fic. i could talk about this fic for hours & i’ve included this on a masterlist before but idc bc listen. the sneak dating?? the flirting?? the tension building?? there were a few plot points that kept me on my toes (everett, i’m looking at you & how long you managed to stick around for) & i respect that. i have so much more i could say about this fic but i’ll stop here so i don’t spoil anything lol.

my pleasure (to make you mine) by @zanniscaramouche / zanni_scaramouche

i don’t think i’ve let zanni have a moment of peace about this fic since i read it. for that, zanni, i’m sorry. but i’m also really, really not. the way their dynamic right off the bat is so seamless & louis does his best to make harry feel comfortable is what we in the industry like to call cinema. prior to this fic i didn’t really care one way or the other about nipple play in fics & now i don’t understand why it doesn’t occur more in fics?? zanni, you’ve changed me as a woman thx bb

meow or never by velvetnoodle

as a cat lover who has attempted to discreetly bring cats home before & a louis lover, i understand harry’s dilemma. i would also do exactly what he did if given louis’ offer. i will leave it at that & will let you bask in the magic that is this fic.

no bunny but you by @crinkle-eyed-boo / crinkle-eyed-boo

this is another fic i will simply never shut up about. louis is smooth as shit??? like. i WISH a guy would do for me what he did for harry in this. there’s just so much to adore in this from the flirting, the teasing, the relationship developments, the softness, all the little plot twists. 10/10, top tier, no notes

promise not to fade away by @nobodymoves / you_explode

i adore the way this toed the line of angst & fluff so well. it’s so sweet & cute & hot & has an open/ambiguous ending that still gives you a sense of closure imo. as someone who typically is not an open/ambiguous ending fic fan, i absolutely endorse this fic. 

stood up by panda_bear21

the pop punk!louis/popstar!harry (or the bad boy!louis/good boy!harry) trope will always give me the will to live. i love this fic bc it’s cute & does sexual tension well & while it does bring up closeting & general hollywood shittiness, it does a good job of making you feel like it’s not the actual focus of the plot & still leaves you with some hope, if that makes sense & i appreciate that v much

three french hems by 100percentsassy & gloria_andrews

idk if it’s because i started reading fan fics on wattpad (i mean, really my journey started w fanfiction.net & the fics that had the actual fic in the youtube description box & the video was a slideshow of pics but i digress) but i have a soft spot for smaus. & they can be....tricky (the wattpad homies know) but this is done so well & i need someone to get louis some perfectly cooked prawns pls!!!! also louis having a thing for harry’s thighs rly makes this baby a winner imo

to be a better man by @thedevilinmybrain / devilinmybrain

i have a weak spot for fics where harry or louis cheat on their significant other w each other. it’s my guilty pleasure. sue me. jen is so good at describing feelings, actions, etc to make you feel like you’re in the fic watching it happen. i adore the changes in larry’s dynamic, how smoothly it all happened, how much louis cared & understood exactly what harry needed, how easily harry gave in &let louis take care of him. i would absolutely read a part 2 of this w harry & louis together

wrapped in light, in life, in love by orphan account

i will never not be obsessed w fics that have the louis is gemma’s best friend & harry’s in love w him trope. that mixed w how easily & instantaneously harry & louis get along even after not seeing each other for years? add a dash of harry having louis’ baby & how obvious they are about their feelings for each other? GIMME

when we were young by @allwaswell16 / allwaswell16

ok so this is a series, not a fic B U T i feel like  you can read the fics stand alone & you can feel the vibe from each fic, but i think since they both have the ~vibe~ you just feel it all so much more when you read them together. ANYWAY. they’re so obviously smitten w each other & of course everyone else can see it but them. harry is an oblivious shit but we love him (&so does louis).

you took my heart by surprise by @loveislarryislove / livelaughlovelarry

it takes a while for harry & louis to warm up to each other, but once they do, it is just...so, so good. annika’s writing will make you feel like you’re actually experiencing the same emotions as the characters are. louis’ protectiveness & how adamant he is to not let anything get in the way of protecting harry, including himself is so heartbreakingly sweet. i cry. i adore how annika describes the emotionally conflicting emotions & situations while keeping the undertone of how much they care about & want each other. annika does not play when it comes to angst & that is a warning (although this is def not her most angst-filled fic by any means)

your heart can love again by sloganeer

this fic speaks to the famous!louis/fanboy!harry stan in me. a shocker, truly, i know! it’s so cute. i love how their relationships transitions in a way that’s quick but doesn’t feel forced & just makes sense -- the way they get domestic so quickly is simply *chefs kiss*

**friendly reminder to please leave kudos & comments on any of the fics you end up reading from this !! show the writers some love :)**

[atinylittlepain]

Dancing in the Dark

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

The summer of '86, a season of love, record-breaking heat, and evening softball games in one Austin neighborhood. What happens when seventeen years later, that lost love comes back around?

warnings | 18+ cursing, smut, young joel is a goddamn menace, angst, references to bad home life, gin making random things canon

wordcount | 9.8K

a/n | welcome back to Hungry Hearts, y'all. i have to thank @northernbluess for beta-reading this bad boy. love you, cousin. as always, I'd love to hear what you think of the chapter!

.......................................

“Hey, Cher, you ready to go?”

“Does it look like I’m ready to go?”

“You look ready to me.”

“Joel, I’m not wearing a shirt.”

“It’s hot out, Cherry. I’m just thinking about your well-being here.”

“How considerate of you. Just give me a minute, and be quiet before my parents hear you.” 

“Bossy, bossy.” She leaves him at her window, shuffling back over to her closet to finish getting dressed. Joel, however, doesn’t stay put for long, swinging one leg, then the other over the sill and into her room before promptly banging his forehead on the opened pane of her window, a low curse leaving his mouth before she can shush him. 

“Very smooth.”

“Yeah, well, you know me. Now c’mere.” He hooks a finger into the belt loop of her jean shorts, a little tug that she resists, and then a bigger, more impatient tug that she can’t help but shuffle into. He’s actually wearing pants tonight, tight, tight blue jeans with a t-shirt that’s had the sleeves and sides cut out, a perfect space for her palms to splay along the bare sides of his ribs when he draws her in for a kiss by the hinge of her jaw. 

“If you start now, we’re never gonna make it to the fair.” He hums at that, his eyes still intently focused on her lips.

“Hmm, would that be such a bad thing?” 

“Uh, yes, I want to see the fireworks.” She’s not sure if he really heard that, his mind seeming to go a bit one-track as he looks at her bra, his fingers brushing over the top of the cups, catching on the lace there.

“This is new.”

“No, I just haven’t worn it around you before.” 

“Well, shit, Cher, you been holding out on me?” 

“Joel.”

“Alright, alright, hands off, I’ll let you get dressed.” As she pulls a tank top over her head, she realizes that he’s never been in her room before. Not even when they were kids. She steals a glance at him as she’s tying her sneakers, and he seems to be stealing glances of his own, subtly leaning over the small desk across from her bed, his eyes trailing over the stack of books sitting there, the photos she had pinned to the wall from her last year of college. He doesn’t say anything though, a quiet collecting, so she doesn’t say anything about it either, simply clearing her throat to grab his attention when she’s ready to go.

“Try not to knock your head into the window on the way out this time.” He doesn’t, though he grumbles through the close contortion he has to manage to pop back outside, panting a little when he holds his hand out for her through the window. It’s not like they had an actual conversation about the necessity of sneaking around with each other. It was an unspoken understanding. Her parents like Joel enough, she grew up with him after all, but she’s certain they would both have aneurysms if they found out what they’ve been getting up to. And anyways, it’s just for the summer, nothing serious, a bit of fun, and Joel seems just as content with that as she is. 

“Tell me about your classes.”

“I’m pretty sure I’d bore you if I did.” 

“We’ve got a half-hour drive, Cher, try me.” The sun is just starting to set, turning the inside of his truck a hazy orange as they drive down the highway away from the suburbs and toward the Austin city limits.

“Okay, in most of them we read books, then we talk about the books, then we write papers about the books.”

“That’s it?”

“I told you it’s boring.” 

“You’re taking writing classes too though, right?” 

“Yeah, I actually won an award for a short story I did in one of them.” She feels a bit stupid sharing that with him, a bit stupid for even wanting to in the first place. But he smiles, big and bright, his eyebrows lifting up with a quick glance over to her.

“No shit, Cher, that’s awesome. I’m not surprised though.” 

“Thanks, yeah, you wanna know what my mom said when I showed her the photo of me receiving the award?” 

“What’d she say?”

“She asked if I had really been wearing my hair like that at school.” For a moment, he’s silent, and her stomach twists up, worried that she shouldn’t have shared that because, obviously, why the hell would he want to hear her bitch about her mom? 

“That’s fucking bullshit, she seriously said that?”

“Yeah.”

“Your mom was always kind of a square.”

“I’m inclined to agree.” 

“You remember when I got gum stuck to your skirt in Sunday school?”

“Oh my god, she was so mad.” 

“She’s got that vein, right down the middle of her forehead, you know?”

“Oh yeah, I’m very familiar with that vein.”

“I swear, Cherry, I thought it was gonna burst she was yelling at me so good.”

“I remember watching that from the car. Your little mouth was just hanging open, I didn’t know if you were gonna bolt or barf.”

“I was scared shitless. She yell at you when y’all got home then?” 

“No, I got the silent treatment and no dinner for a week.”

“Shit, Cher, really?” Suddenly, the laugh buoying his words is gone, a little quieter, a little more tempered. And she realizes, oh, one of those things that isn’t normal. Oh, one of those things that doesn’t happen in other families. Since starting college, she’s gotten good at recognizing these moments, when the laughs die out right after something she said. Oh, your parents? Well, get a load of my parents. No, not funny. Not funny at all. A whole lot of not funny going on in her household. 

“Yeah, I guess that’s why I stopped sitting next to you in Sunday school.” Said with a weak laugh to make it okay, though Joel’s smile has still faltered into something closer to a grimace, his eyes staying still and squinted down the stretch of the highway. 

“Can I read the story sometime?” 

“Oh, um, yeah, okay, if you want.” He keeps his eyes on the road, but his hand that isn’t hanging over the steering wheel slips down to rest on the center console, palm face up, a wordless invitation that she finds herself taking with her own hand. A small comfort to press her palm into his.

“Of course I do, Cher.”

…

It’s the same thing every year. The same rides that always have a few screws loose, the same smell of food sizzling in oil that his doctor would definitely not want him eating, the same throngs of sunburned people shuffling from booth to booth down the drag of streets that have been closed off for the fair. For a while, he didn’t go, but since Sarah got old enough to be interested in all the fourth of July festivities, they’ve made the drive into Austin every year for it, though as of late, the night usually entails her meeting up with her friends and yes, dadding, him into leaving her alone until the fireworks are over. But he isn’t all alone this year, Tommy tagging along at the last minute when whatever his plans were, Joel shudders to think of what they were, fell through. So no, not pathetic at all, just two grown men wandering through the crowd and waiting until they can go home. 

“I saw we got a new appointment on the books for next week. Someone on Cascade Street?”

“Uh-huh.”

“New client?”

“Yep, yeah, they just moved in.”

“Why are you being weird about it?” Tommy stops in his tracks, scrunching his face up at Joel who would really like this topic of conversation to get dropped. 

“I’m not, Tommy, why are you so concerned about this new client?” 

“What are they getting done?” 

“New porch.” 

“Who’s taking the job?” 

“I am.”

“You?” 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Tommy shrugs, scoffing when Joel starts walking again without him, quick to catch up and step into stride with him.

“Seems like a pretty rinky-dink job for you to take on, especially when we’re in the middle of that new build on Cypress.”

“I thought you said you have Cypress under control?” He’s being a touch too snappy about it, he knows it, and judging by the weird look Tommy is giving him, his hands up as if in surrender, he knows it too. 

“I do, I’m just surprised that you aren’t letting one of the other guys take that job on, is all. What, is it a pretty lady or something?” Before Joel can figure out how to answer that question, Tommy’s eyes are widening and slipping right over his shoulder, and then–

“Holy shit, holy shit.”

“What?” 

“See for yourself, brother.” Tommy shuffles him around by his shoulders, Joel’s protests dying in his throat when he sees her. Mercifully, she hasn’t seen them yet, standing in line at a frozen lemonade stand with her phone at her ear, having what looks to be a heated conversation. He doesn’t see Ellie with her, though, and figures to himself that she’s gotten the same treatment he has from Sarah. And suddenly, frozen lemonade seems like a very good idea because his throat has gotten quite dry looking at her. Those same jean shorts he saw her in the last time, and a sliver of skin between the waistband and the hem of her t-shirt. Her very tight t-shirt that rides up a little more when she raises her hand to push those sunglasses of hers back into her hair. And, well, he’s not trying to be a perv, but it doesn’t take much more than a glance to tell that she isn’t wearing a bra beneath her very, very tight t-shirt. 

“Cherry!” 

“Tommy, what the fuck?” Too late, her head has already whipped around, her phone still pressed to her ear, though the scowl that had been on her face melts into a small smile, her eyes widening in recognition. Meanwhile, Joel is considering how hard he would have to punch his brother to rattle his pea-sized brain into some sense. Cherry seems to finish her phone call with a quick flurry, already walking over to them as she hangs up.

“Tommy Miller, look at you!” Tommy pulls her into a tight hug, a small oof leaving her as he hoists her up until only her toes are on the ground before setting her back down with a slap to her arm. Joel decidedly does not give her such a greeting. 

“Cher, of all the people I don’t think I’d ever expect to see you around here, goddamn!”

“Wait, Joel didn’t tell you I moved back?” They both turn their attention to Joel, who only manages to open and close his mouth a few times before Tommy lets out a scoff. 

“You knew that she was back and you didn’t tell me?” 

“Uh, well–”

“I thought for sure he would have told you. He’s coming out to look at my porch next week. Very impressive by the way, Tom, Miller’s Construction.” At that, something smug slides down Tommy’s face as he looks over at Joel.

“Oh, is he now? Say, Cher, you didn’t happen to move in on Cascade Street, did you?”

“Yeah, that’s right, so Joel did tell you then?” Joel contorts his face in the best expression of please no, Tommy, I will kill you if you do that he can muster over Cherry’s shoulder, but Tommy just grins at him, and then at Cherry. 

“No, nope, I just saw in our books that there was an appointment on Cascade next week with a very important person. Just putting two and two together for myself since it looks like no one tells me anything around here.” With that, Tommy claps Joel on the shoulder, who still hasn’t managed to get a word in edgewise between the two of them. Cherry has a smile on her face like she knows exactly what’s going on.

“Well, anyways, it’s so good to see you, Cher. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“It’s good to see you too, Tommy. I’m really glad to see you looking so well.” 

“I try, now if you two kids will excuse me, I have a date with something deep fried and covered in sugar.” Tommy is off in a flash, leaving Joel to flounder beneath Cherry’s simpering gaze. 

“You didn’t tell Tommy that I was back?”

“I didn’t think it was mine to tell.” She nods, squinting at him through the bleary haze of the sunset.

“So this hasn’t changed much at all.”

“No, I reckon these are the same rides we went on as kids.”

“Don’t remind me, I’m already worried that Ellie’s off getting kidnapped right now. I don’t need tetanus and loss of limb added to the list.”

“So you got dumped too then?” They make their way back over to the line in front of the frozen lemonade stand, a bit longer than it was before, but he’s happy to wait with her. 

“Afraid so, apparently when you turn fourteen you no longer want to be seen in public with your mom.”

“That applies to dads too.” They both share a tired smile and a small shrug, and once again he can’t believe he’s standing here with her, talking about parenthood of all things. 

“Ellie’s on a date, but don’t tell her I told you that.” Said with a slanted smile and a bump of her shoulder into his.

“Oh yeah?” 

“Mmhmm, she’s been harboring quite the crush on her team’s center outfielder.” The gears in his mind spin for a moment, and then it clicks. 

“Oh, oh, huh.” 

“Nice save, Joel.” 

“No, I mean, that’s great, Cher. Good for her for, uh, knowing herself.” He palms the back of his neck, trying to cool the quick heat creeping there as she laughs at him. It’s a heat he hasn’t felt in a long time, though she was always quick to draw it out of him, always quick to catch him.

“Yeah, it is. I do worry though. Austin is definitely not New York.”

“That it ain’t, though I don’t think she’s gonna have to worry with you for her mom. You always did know how to give people the what for.” 

“You’re damn right about that.” That’s a smile he’d like to remember, a grin really, her eyes crinkling up at him, a little wry and a little fierce. That heat just keeps creeping. 

When they get to the front of the line, she starts to argue with him when he tries to pay for her drink, though he manages to sneak it by her when she gets distracted by another phone call buzzing through her back pocket. She checks the caller ID, sighs, and immediately shoves the phone back into her pocket, letting out another sigh when she sees that he’s already paid for her lemonade. 

“For the record, I’m getting the next one.” 

“Sure, Cher.” His mind gets a little stuck on next one, though he manages to follow her over to a bench and sit down with her, when once again, her phone starts ringing. She doesn’t check it, simply takes a long swig through the straw of her drink as it continues to buzz and ring.

“Not gonna take that call?” 

“Nope, do you want some of this?” Maybe it’s childish, but the thought of drinking from the same straw as her makes his brain start to fry, so he shakes his head no and grips the edge of the bench a little tighter. 

“Is that who you were on the phone with earlier?”

“Oh, you saw that, huh?” It makes him feel sheepish, admitting that he had, nodding to her question. Her shoulders slacken with a long sigh, another pull from her lemonade before she continues speaking. 

“It’s my agent, poking around for my next draft.”

“So you weren’t kidding about the big leagues? Got an agent and everything.”

“I wish I didn’t have one, honestly. But I kinda have to when I’m dealing with all these big publishers.” She pinches the bridge of her nose as she says it, her eyes dropping shut, and he finally sees that she is actually very tired. A little drawn, heavy circles under her eyes, a little thin, sharp around the edges in a way he doesn’t remember. How he missed it before he isn’t sure, but now that he sees it, something slight and sharp slips between his ribs and curls around his heart. 

“You’re working on another book then?” How quickly she hides away that weariness, looking at him with her cheek tilted over her shoulder and a bright smile.

“I’m trying to. You probably don’t care to hear about this–”

“I do, Cher, always wanted to hear about your stories.” It comes out before he can think much about it, and her expression does a strange thing. A quick fall, a scrunch of her brows, and then a slight frown before she shakes her head as if to clear the whole thing away. 

“Have you really not read a single one of my books, Joel?” 

“Uh, I–”

“No, don’t answer that. Wasn’t a fair question, sorry. Anyways, there’s nothing much to tell about this one because I am completely stuck with it.” 

“Stuck?” 

“I’m about this close to scrapping the whole thing. I don’t know, I guess part of me thought the move would shake something loose, but I still got nothing.” It’s not like he could offer her any advice on it, and it’s not like she’s looking for it either, another sigh around her straw and a shrug of her shoulders, always quick to make nothing out of something. 

“You eaten anything for dinner yet?”

“Does this thirty-two ounce frozen lemonade count?” He’s already getting up and holding out his hand for her, and while it seems like the simplest movement, his mind instantly questions if it’s too much, though he fights against that with a foolish hope. 

“C’mon, Cher, I think I can do you one better than a frozen lemonade.” No big deal, she takes his hand. No big deal, he tells himself. No big deal when she lets go either, because that’s normal too. That’s friendly. And friendly is good. 

“If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, then it is definitely going to be better than this frozen lemonade.” 

…

“You got a little, right there–” Before she can wipe away whatever he’s referring to with a napkin, Joel has already licked his thumb and swiped it along the corner of her mouth, promptly sucking what she assumes is barbecue sauce off the pad of his finger. 

“That was so gross.”

“What? I’m saving paper.”

“Lovely.”

“Always, Cherry baby.” The sun had set a while ago, the streets lit up in a syrupy wash of neon from all the rides and games lining the several blocks. They ran the whole circuit of the booths, her constantly pulling Joel away to keep him from spending any more money on trying to win her something, and inevitably failing at whatever rigged game he stepped up to. She can already see his eyes dragging over the remaining booths as they finish their meal at one of the picnic tables set up next to all the food vendors, planning his attack, no doubt.

“You know I really don’t care about getting a stuffed animal, right?” 

“It’s the principle of the thing, Cher.”

“Those games are literally designed for people to lose at them. Seriously, I don’t want you to waste any more money on it.” She quickly realizes that was the exact wrong thing to say, Joel’s eyes flashing back to her, hard and steeled, on the defense. 

“You don’t gotta worry about what I do with my money, okay?” His words come out rushed and loud, with a quick shake of his head, enough to startle her back from where her thigh had been pressed close to his, something that immediately washes the edge out of his expression, his eyebrows slackening and his lips parting.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, Joel.” Her mouth feels dry, a cool prickle in her scalp, regret swirling up her meal in her stomach. He gets enough of that from everyone else, the money, the job, the what is the plan. He doesn’t need it from her too. 

“No, I’m sorry, it’s just– forget it, I shouldn’t have gone after you like that.” She’s not quite ready to look at him, keeping her eyes focused on the red and white checkered napkin that she’s twisting in her hands. But of course, Joel doesn’t abide by that for long, ducking his head and leaning over to place a smacking kiss on the corner of her mouth before angling back again to get one planted square on her lips. 

“You– taste– like– smoked– brisket–” Each of his words is punctuated with another peck until she can no longer stave off the smile threatening at the corners of her lips, shoving him back with a palm pressed in the middle of his chest. 

“Oh shit, Miller, is that you?” Her stomach turns over, because she’s pretty sure she knows whose voice that is, and she wishes that she didn’t. She isn’t sure what the next best move is, though Joel seems to make the decision for her, slinging his arm over her shoulder to tuck her into his side just as Mikey Donahue comes sauntering over to where they’re sitting. 

“Hey, Mike, you out with the guys tonight?” Joel offers his hand out for a hard shake, apparently still chummy with Mikey after the little scene at his party. Though she supposes water flows under the bridge a little faster for boys anyways. 

“Nah, decided to finally bite the bullet and take Maureen out, she ducked into the bathrooms but she should be wandering over soon.” Though the answer is directed at Joel, Mikey’s eyes stay steady on her, a smile that she doesn’t like the curl of crooking his mouth. 

“Y’all are quite the couple. Does your daddy know you’re out with this menace, big city?” It’s so small, so subtle, but she can still feel it, the way Joel’s hand curls closely and tenses around her forearm from where his arm had been draped around her.

“Ha, ha, Mikey, that’s very funny. I’m a big girl though, don’t really need my daddy or you to be concerned with my business.” Joel snorts over her shoulder, and she has to resist the urge to elbow him for it. 

“Whatever you say, big city. Oh, here comes Maureen. Do y’all mind if we join you?” She’s quick to cut Joel off before he can answer, squeezing his thigh hard to shut him up as she offers Mikey a tight-lipped smile. 

“Actually, we were just heading off to get a few rides in before the fireworks, but y’all have fun.” Not another word, though she’s pretty sure she hears Mikey let out a laugh as she pulls Joel up and along behind her before Maureen can even get anywhere near them. 

“Cher, you know I don’t like rides.” Said very lowly, a bit bashful, she thinks, his head ducking down to speak the words right into her ear. Yeah, she knows, and has known since they were nine and Tommy and her forced him onto the Gravitron, which ended with Joel in tears and a puddle of what had been his dinner next to the trash can that he missed by only a hair. 

“I know, I just needed an excuse to get away from those two. But, really, Joel? Not even the ferris wheel?” He stops walking for a moment, his eyes scanning over the arc of the ride as if to give it his full consideration. Finally, he looks at her again, his lips pressed in a thin line.

“How bad do you wanna go on it?” 

“I think it could be nice, but not if you’re going to be all weird about it.” She swears she sees his chest puff a little, and with that, he takes her hand with all the conviction of a man going off to war. 

“I’m not going to be weird about it, let’s go.” Famous last words. He’s the picture of ease all while they’re standing in line, but the instant they cram into one of the cars, his whole body tenses up, his knuckles going white where they’re gripping onto the side railing. She doesn’t say anything at first, just puts her hand on his bouncing knee when the ride cranks into motion. Though when they crest the top of the ride and it stops again, Joel’s poorly contained panic becomes impossible to ignore.

“Oh, what the fuck–”

“It’s okay, they’re just letting more people on.” She doesn’t think that he hears her, too busy craning his neck over the side of the car before skittering back into place when the lean of his body makes the whole thing rock. 

“This is so fucked–”

“Joel.”

“Why do people enjoy this? That’s–”

“Joel.” 

“What?” He finally looks at her, eyes a bit frantic and jaw slack. She can’t help but reach out and brush his hair back from his face. 

“Is it– are you afraid of heights?” Calling it what it is seems to calm him, his shoulders finally coming down from his ears and his eyes softening. She lets her hand dip down to curl behind his neck, her fingers scratching lightly into the back of his hair.

“Maybe, but I’d say that’s a pretty rational fear, Cher.” 

“Yeah, it is, and you’re also totally safe right now.” Her words are undermined just a bit when the ride screeches back into motion just as she finishes saying them, Joel’s eyes going wide again as he whips his head around to look over the edge of the car. Right, drastic measures then. 

“Hey.” First, she shrugs her thigh over top of his to stop the anxious bounce in his knee, already drawing his attention back onto her. Then, she leans in a little closer so she can keep her eyes steady with his, her hand firm along the side of his neck to hold him in place. 

“Just look right here and it’ll be over before you know it.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Well, I’m not the one freaking out on a ferris wheel right now.”

“Hey.” She shouldn’t, like giving a child what they want just because they’re having a tantrum. But she does, pressing one kiss, then another to his lips, small, swift little pecks that he eventually starts to lean into, his hand that had been gripping onto the railing coming up to settle along the line of her jaw when she swipes her tongue across his bottom lip. They’ve gotten a little better at this, at making compromises with each other, giving and taking almost equally, opening up for each other. And, not that his ego needs to hear it, but she really likes kissing him. 

His panic seems to be all forgotten as he licks into her mouth, his nose brushing along the side of hers. Always a little greedy though, crowding her into the side of the car and making a soft sound skitter up her throat when his teeth graze along her lip. 

“Uh, excuse me?” It startles them both, Joel very slowly pulling away from her and turning his head to look at the ride attendant, the very unamused looking ride attendant. 

“Y’all can get off now, thanks.” 

…

“Goddamn.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“They don’t have barbecue up north?” 

“Not like this they don’t, Jesus.” He tries not to smile too big at the satisfied hum that leaves her throat as she takes another bite. And he’s also trying hard not to watch her too closely, because, no, it’s probably not normal to just stare at someone while they’re eating brisket and potato salad. 

“Do I have something on my face?” Busted, and, well, actually, he motions to the side of his own mouth, words getting caught in his throat. She gets the hint though, grabbing a napkin and dabbing at the same spot on her face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how hungry I actually was. I probably look a little crazy right now.” 

“Are you eating proper while you’re working?” Sheepish, the flicker of her eyes from beneath her lashes is enough of an answer to his question. Some things never change, he supposes. 

“I may get a little distracted.”

“Uh-huh.” A quick, quiet smile shared, a knowing. He likes knowing. 

“Mom?” No, he is still not used to that, both of them whipping their heads around where they’re sitting at a picnic bench to see her daughter with a very furrowed look on her face. 

“Hey, babe, everything okay?” Ellie is looking at Joel. Sizing him up is more like it, her lips pursed and her arms crossed, her hip cocked to the side, just like he knows her mom does when she’s not pleased with something. 

“Uh, yeah, we were just gonna– wait, are you eating meat?” He glances back to Cherry, who now has the guiltiest little smile on her face, her eyebrows pulled together in a quiet cringe as she tries to inconspicuously swallow another bite of food.

“I am, Els, I’m sorry. I gotta be honest, I don’t think I’m gonna keep up the vegetarian thing all the time, but you know I’ll support you if you still want to.” Ellie gives her an eye roll that looks like it’s going to get stuck in the back of her head, a little huff and a few shuffled steps in place like she can’t believe this.

“Okay, well, fine, I guess. I was gonna ask if you had found something to eat that didn’t have dead animal in it, but obviously you’re not gonna be much help with that so I’ll see you later.” With that, Ellie turns heel back into the crowd, Joel still unsure exactly what he just watched.

“They have fried pickles, babe, those should be fine! Be safe, please!” Ellie only acknowledges her shout with a glance spared over her shoulder, Cherry immediately deflating when her daughter gets swallowed up by the crowd, bringing her thumb and forefinger to pinch the bridge of her nose again.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe that just happened.” Said with a dejected little laugh that only grows when she takes another bite of brisket, his chest loosening up when she shakes her head and offers him a smile.

“So vegetarian, huh?” Cherry shrugs.

“New York.” 

“Sarah had a phase with it too. Only lasted three days before Tommy took her to KFC and she swayed.” 

“Ellie is a little more, uh, zealous about it. It’s going on two years now since she watched some documentary and came into my room in complete tears over, and mind you that a twelve-year-old said this, the horrors of animal agriculture.” 

“Well shit.” 

“Right?” 

“You’re telling me you’ve been vegetarian for two years?”

“Don’t laugh, Joel.” It only makes him laugh harder, Cherry shoving him in the arm as she tries to scrunch her mouth out of a smile. But beneath that laugh, there’s something else, something warm and a little giddy. He’s noticed it every time she has said his name. 

“No wonder you were so hungry, Cher, damn.”

“This may surprise you, but meat isn’t the only food group. And I’ll have you know I make some damn good tofu enchiladas.” 

“Well that’s just sacreligious.”

“Oh please.” Back and forth, slipping into that easy volley without either of them noticing that their faces have started inching closer and closer, though when they do there’s a quick flush of heat that has them both clearing their throats and widening that space again. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, where did Will end up?” 

“Oregon, he’s a really great photographer these days.” 

“Y’all keep in touch?”

“A little, yeah. I think for a while, we were both just happy to have gotten out, you know? It made us keep our distance from each other. But he came and visited last year, got to meet Ellie for the first time.” 

“That’s great, Cher.”

“Yeah, it is. He’s turning thirty-three this year, if you can believe it.” 

“Jesus.”

“I know, how’d that happen, huh?” Joel just shakes his head, a memory already floating up to the surface. Will was a freshman when they were seniors, tall but slight for his age, quieter, kept more to himself, though Joel made a point of saying hi to him in the hallways, clapping him on the back in the lunch line. There was a day, maybe a week after winter break, and Joel was loitering in the halls during a class he didn’t have any patience for when he saw Will at his locker. All smiles, all loud and brash greetings that all faded when he saw the shiner mottling under Will’s right eye. He remembers being ready to go on the warpath for the kid, asking him over and over, who did this, man, just tell me, who did this? He figured, one of the guys from the football team, someone he could set straight, and that he of course would set straight for Cherry’s little brother. But Will just kept saying nobody, it’s nobody, Joel, please don’t. It was probably two months later when he finally figured out who nobody was, a slow realization, something clicking into place. 

But he knows better than to share that memory with her, the same way he knows better than to ask her if she has kept in touch with her parents. He already knows the answer to that question. 

“Joel?”

“Hmm?”

“Where’d you go?” Her head tilted at him, a suggestion of a smile. 

“Sorry, just thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“And that’s mean.” Back to the present, sitting next to her on a picnic bench, he has to shake his head of it. A strange feeling, how carefully they’re stepping around the past, sharing pieces in scraps, in unsure palms, always quick to make it light, make a joke of it. He’s not sure how long he can keep dancing like this. 

“Are you sticking around for the fireworks?”

“I was informed by Sarah to meet her at the car after the fireworks, so yeah, I guess I am.” 

“Oh, how funny, I was given the same instructions by my own little tyrant.” 

“Imagine that.” 

“You wouldn’t want to watch them with me, would you?” 

“I’d love to, Cher.”

…

“You do realize you’re driving us in the opposite direction of where the fireworks are being set off, right?” 

“Do you trust me or not?”

“Do you want me to answer that honestly or not?” 

“You know I could kick you out of my car if I wanted to.” 

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try.” 

“Cherry, just– quiet for a minute–”

“Don’t tell me to be quiet, Joel!”

“I’m trying to concentrate, goddamnit! You’re gonna make me miss the turn.”

“What turn? We’re literally on the highway and there isn’t another exit for–” Her thought gets lost behind a gasp when Joel mutters a quiet shit under his breath and suddenly veers completely off the road and into what she thinks is a corn field, though she’s a little too busy shouting whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck over and over again as the car bounces and bumps over uneven ground. And seemingly just as suddenly, he stops the car altogether, putting it in park and killing the engine in what, yes, is the middle of a cornfield, the stalks unusually high and proud for this early in the season. It’s already dark out, deep blue and bruising shadows, she can only barely see his face in what light the lamp post about fifty yards away offers.

“What the fuck?”

“You already asked that about a thousand times, Cher.” 

“Yeah, and you haven’t answered, so again, what the fuck?” He’s still not answering, shouldering into his door to get it open against the close crush of the tightly planted corn stalks, letting out a satisfied grunt when it finally gives way.

“Joel–”

“Cherry, just shut up and give me your hand.” 

“If you ever tell me to shut up again I’m going to make sure you regret it.” 

“Noted, now come here.” Albeit reluctantly, she takes his hand from where he’s now leaning out of the driver’s side door, managing an awkward shimmy over the center console and into the driver’s seat as Joel swings his body out along the side of the car, one leg hitching into the truck bed. The soft silk of corn stalks brushes against her legs and arms as she follows after him, holding on tight to his hand to hoist herself up and into the truck bed alongside him, a quick tumble over each other, all tangled up. Though not for long, Joel already getting to work shaking out what she sees is a stack of moving blankets in the back of the truck bed. She takes a moment to look around, a thick line of trees surrounding the field on the side opposite to the road, so late that she doesn’t think a single car has passed by since they’ve driven out here. And, she hates to admit it, a perfect view down the stretch of the highway of the stadium where they’re setting off the fireworks from. 

“You good?” His question startles her out of her slow scan of the surroundings, finally looking back at him to see that he’s spread the blankets out in the bed of the truck, his back resting against the cab and his legs stretched out in front of him. 

“Y-yeah.” It comes out small and shaky, and while she thinks she knows why, she tamps that down tight as she crawls over to sit beside him. Even though it’s oppressively hot, she still tucks down into his side when he lets his arm fall over her shoulders. Perfect spot and perfect timing too, but she doesn’t watch the sky when she hears that familiar whistle and pop of rockets, choosing instead to see the light burst and shatter over his face, the slow fall of it in his eyes. And there’s no tamping it down now, that feeling starting to fizz and lift in her chest, and as she continues to watch each succession of color and sound wash over Joel’s parted lips and wide eyes, she knows that she is absolutely, irreparably, fucked. 

“You’re not even watching.” 

“Yes I am.” He’s not watching anymore either, looking at her down the length of his nose, all shadow between the quick fractures of light. Their chins bump first before they get it right, seeking each other out by feel. His hands finding her hips, squeezing and coaxing her into his lap, though he pulls away when the next resonant crack of fireworks splits the sky and her whole body tenses. 

“You don’t like the sound?” 

“It’s not my favorite thing.” No, she doesn’t like that sound. That sound that reminds her of the whole lot of not funny going on in her household, but she’s already leaning in to forget all that with her mouth pressed to his. Though Joel holds her back, firm palm, big palm, steady and curled at the nape of her neck. 

“Is it okay though? You’re okay?” It doesn’t help her case when another stream of fireworks sets off just as he asks it, her body jolting in his hold again, but she tries to pass it off with a breathy laugh. 

“It’s fine, Joel. I’m fine. Just come here, please.” He relents, his hand slipping down along her spine to press her closer as she opens his mouth with hers, a shared sigh and the quiet scrape of teeth, her palm splayed over his chest feeling the thrum of his moan when she licks into his mouth. He’s being careful, she can tell, and she doesn’t think it’s only because they can just barely see each other in the dim light and the punctuated bursts of brightness from the fireworks, his hands splaying wide along the span of her back, holding her so close that every time her muscles tense and jump at the sounds it just sends her closer into his arms. He’s steady, perfectly, his thumbs stroking back and forth along her spine, constant and lulling until she knows that the fireworks are still going on, the pinpricks of light in the periphery, but she can no longer hear them over the rushing in her ears and the way she’s trying to collect every breath of his with her own. 

And she just wants more, however she can get it, his stomach tensing up when her fingers slip beneath the hem of his shirt, only pulling away enough that he can help her tug it over his head. Always so warm beneath her hands, she keeps one palm in the center of his chest, finding that pulse, that beat that always seems so strong to her, as Joel’s hands begin to wander. Ever predictable, the first stop of his circuit is her ass, both palms splayed and squeezing, making a weak noise fizzle out in her throat as he rocks her forward into the hardness in his jeans. From there, his palms slip down to the meat of her thighs, another squeeze, his fingers flickering under the hem of her shorts. Their kiss breaks with a quiet click, lips shined and swollen with it as she leans back to peel her tank top off, though before she can unclasp her bra, Joel grabs both her wrists, his eyes wide and pleading.

“What’s wrong?” The fireworks have stopped, so she must squint in the shadows to see the way his eyes are drooping down, the dip and bob of his throat as he swallows.

“Nothing, I just– s’pretty.” He lets go of her wrists, his fingers coming up to ghost over the tops of her breasts, that slight spill of flesh over the top of her bra, a small sigh that she can see leave his chest as he watches her own inhale and exhale. 

“Do you want me to leave it on, baby?” She’s never called him that before, though judging by the broken groan that crackles in his chest, he liked it, a new warmth curling deep in her stomach at the sound. 

“Please, Cher.” She can’t help the grin that slips across her face, circling one of his wrists with her palm to draw it up to her lips, pressing a kiss to the pad of each finger before guiding his hand down to the waistband of her shorts. Quick to flicker through the button and zipper, it’s all slow moves as he surges forward and she leans back until she’s laying out in the bed of the truck with Joel between her legs and nothing on but that bra he seems to like so much. It doesn’t surprise her that he wastes no time in ducking his head down to mouth over the fabric of her bra, her spine arching up into the wet heat with a sigh. Though he’s gone just as fast, drifting further down over the fluttering rise and fall of her stomach, his lips catching below her navel before he settles between her legs with her thighs resting over his shoulders. 

He learned fast what she likes, with her hand in his hair and her words so quick to correct or to praise, he learned very fast. So she doesn’t have to say a thing now, a silent cry crackling in her jaw when he drags his tongue through the heat of her cunt. She can already feel a perfect bead of arousal dripping from between her thighs down the cleft of her ass as his mouth rests over her clit and he sucks, sharp, quick, before dipping back down and doing it again. He’s gotten more confident, more brazen about it, a little rough in the way his fingers dig into the swell of her thighs, demanding everything, open and willing and waiting for whatever he will give her. And she gives it to him, fingers threaded through his hair to tug when his teeth graze too tender, her spine strung tight and taut as her cunt clenches around nothing. The sound is obscene, a salacious secret amidst the hum of crickets and the close quiet of the night, the little hums he can’t seem to stop rising in his throat as he eats at her, the slick slip of it, and the gentle, but still there, rock of the truck from how he’s grinding his hips down, seeking out more just the same as her. 

His one palm slips under the curve of her ass, tilting her hips up toward his mouth as he continues to lick and suck at her cunt, all that pleasure starting to hurt, starting to snap and snarl as she tugs a little harder at his hair. 

“I– more– something more, please.” He lifts his gaze from its hazy drop, the whites of his eyes still hooded and shining up to her as he rests his cheek against the soft inside of her thigh, the little pants of his breath washing over her cunt and making her hips twitch. 

“You want more?” She would smack him for looking so smug if she didn’t need it so bad, settling instead for another tug in his hair that makes him puff out a laugh. He doesn’t wait for any more of an answer, happy to oblige with two of his fingers dragging down through her swollen cunt before dipping inside, heat shooting up her spine when he curls them just so, that small stretch, that ache, that want. He presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh before his teeth sink into the flesh, his fingers already finding a steady rhythm that’s making her buck up into his hand. 

“Yes– just like that– I want– I want–”

“You want it?’

“Uh-huh.”

“You need it?” 

“So bad, Joel, please.”

“I know, Cherry, look at you, huh? So perfect like this.” He continues to coo at her in that low hum when it finally catches up with her, that pleasure pulling taut fraying all at once, her whole body curling in tight and tense and then releasing with a languid moan. My girl, my fucking girl, so good, my good fucking girl. She hears it somewhere in the back of her mind, tucking it away behind the wall of sound and sense still coursing through her as her hips jolt in his grasp, so sensitive that tears start to pearl along her lashes. She thinks her heart might actually stop when he finally pulls his fingers away and up to his mouth, sucking each one with a hum and an absurd pop before he crawls up her body to give her a taste. 

Her hands are already tugging at his jeans, only a bit surprised when she manages to ruck them down and finds that he isn’t wearing underwear. 

“You are such a freak.” He laughs, leaving a harsh nip to the hinge of her jaw.

“I don’t see why you’re complaining, it’s easy access, Cher.” She only manages to get his jeans down over the curve of his ass, but it’s enough so she can slip her palms down and dig her fingernails into the flesh in retaliation, Joel groaning and dropping his forehead down to her sternum. 

“Be nice.”

“You be nice.”

“You’re the one that called me a freak.” 

“And it stands.”

“If I’m a freak then you’re a–”

“Careful, baby.” 

“You’re a menace.” He hisses out the word as he spreads her open on his cock in one slow drag, the both of them sighing as he stills inside her. For a moment the only sound is their ragged breaths. Slow movements, his hand curling around the back of her knee to draw it up against his hip, another small rock that makes her preen with how full she feels. Her mouth stays stamped at his hairline, words murmured there as she curls her arm around his shoulder blades. 

“I’m a menace?” 

“Uh-huh, you d-drive me insane.” His words come out breathless as he finally pulls his hips back, a little more force in his next thrust that makes a whine tear through her chest. He’s so deep, grinding his hips into hers even deeper and all she can do is take it, her heel digging into his low back as he does it again and again and again. 

“Well you drive me in-insane too– oh.” The words slip out in stilted stutters, tears dripping cool and sticky down her flushed cheeks as he finds a different movement, one that’s harder and meaner, rucking her up the bed of the truck with every shunt of his hips against hers, his chest pressed tight against hers, sweat beading and dripping between her breasts.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh-huh.” Pitchy and high in her throat, she can’t help it when he slips a hand between the humid stick of their bodies to drag his fingers against her clit. 

“Good.” It isn’t long before they’re both unraveling around each other, his forehead pressed hard into hers, the weight of him heaving and draped over her, stifling and sweaty and perfect. Her whole body shakes with the panting laugh he lets out, finally resting his chin between her breasts to look up at her. 

“My little menace.” She can’t help but laugh too, his cheeks splitting into a grin at the sound. 

“My big freak.”

“Hey.”

…

“Oh my god.”

“What, what is it?”

“I think that’s Ellie and her date.” 

“Where?”

“Don’t be so obvious about it, two rows down, across the aisle.” Her hand is on his shoulder, her finger pointed right next to his face to guide his gaze toward where she’s looking. Sure enough, it’s Ellie, sitting very close to another girl on the bleachers, oblivious to the crush of the crowd around them, smiling and laughing to each other as they wait for the fireworks to start. He never liked watching from inside the stadium, thinking that all the bright lights sort of defeated the purpose, but now he’s grateful for them so he can get a better look to confirm that yes, that is definitely Ellie who is now putting her arm around her date, getting even cozier. 

“Oh my god.” He finally looks away to see Cherry hanging on his shoulder, perfectly mortified at the sight in front of her.

“You got a regular Casanova on your hands, Cher.” 

“I feel like I’m going to cry, or maybe scream, or maybe throw up.” He’s watching her watching them, her brow crumpled and her jaw completely slack, pure shock. He’d laugh, but he’s pretty sure he’d be in a far worse state if he saw Sarah in a similar position. 

“Hey, it’s okay, they’re just–”

“Oh my fucking god, look!” His eyes dart back just in time to see what he’s pretty sure is the end of a kiss, the young pair shyly pulling away from each other with small smiles.

“Oh, Jesus Christ.”

“Do you think that was her first kiss?” It’s such an absurd question. He’s only just met the kid, after all. But when he looks back at Cherry and sees the pleading tilt of her eyes, how could he not try his best?

“Well, I don’t know, Cher, do you?” Maybe his best wasn’t very good.

“I don’t know. Oh fuck, I shouldn’t have seen that. I should not have seen that. She’s too young for that, right? I should go get her, yeah, that’s what I should do.” She’s already starting to get up out of her seat, and all Joel can think to do is grab her hand to keep her where she is.

“Woah, woah, hey, I think they’re fine, Cher. Look, they’re just talking now.” She squeezes his hand, still looking at Ellie with a deep frown on her face, but she does sit back down. She’s still holding onto his hand while she worries her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You think so?”

“Tell me this, how old were you when you had your first kiss?” Suddenly, the worry in her face slackens, something a bit more bashful slipping into place. She’s still holding onto his hand.

“Well, I was thirteen.” 

“There you go, it’s normal then.” She’s still holding onto his hand.

“How old were you when you had yours?” She’s still holding onto his hand.

“I don’t know, probably thirteen like you.” She’s still holding onto his hand.

“You mean you don’t remember?” She’s still holding onto his hand.

“Not really.” 

“How can you not remember your first kiss?” She finally lets go of his hand, only so that she can talk with her own, a bit of flailing and exasperation at him before her hands settle in her lap. He rests his on his knee, a hard squeeze to stop any lingering want.

“I just don’t. It was a long time ago, and it obviously wasn’t very important.” 

“Do you at least remember who it was with?” He does, but she’s not going to like the answer, and suddenly the toes of his boots are very interesting as he scratches the back of his neck. 

“Uh, Maureen.” He says it as he drags his hand down his jaw, the name getting muffled beneath his palm. Cherry’s face scrunches up.

“Come again?” He really doesn’t want to say it again, but he knows she’s not going to give this up now, her chin tilted down and her eyes narrowed at him.

“Maureen? Maureen Henderson, yep.” As if a yep might make it better, but her brows have already done that thing, that familiar thing where they shoot up her forehead, then scrunch down again, then slacken.

“Huh, so Maureen wasn’t very memorable then?”

“Nope, not at all.” She purses her lips and nods, her eyes squinting out across the stadium for a moment. But before whatever is simmering below the surface can bubble over, the first booming firework goes off, and her whole body recoils. 

“Oh, motherfucker.” It happens again, another fizzle and crack, and as the crowd oohs and ahhs, she digs her fingernails into her thighs and grits her jaw. 

“That never got any better, huh?”

“Afraid not.” He wants to reach out for her, to curl his arm around her shoulders and pull her tight into his side, to absorb the shock that keeps resounding through her body. He knows how to, after all. 

“Is– is there something I can do, Cher?” Her eyes are a little unfocused, even when he ducks his head down to try to get her attention.

“You’d think that by now I’d have figured out that every loud sound isn’t–” Almost like a hiccup when the next rocket goes off. The only thing that’s different is that now, each time, first her eyes dart over to where Ellie is sitting, checking, making sure. He feels his heart ripping apart watching her. 

“Hey.” It comes out quieter than he meant it to, but her eyes still turn onto him when he puts his hand on her knee.

“You wanna go wait at your car?” She nods, and that’s enough for him to go into action, not thinking twice about taking her hand again and shepherding them both down one of the aisles further away from where Ellie is sitting. Back and forth, back and forth, his thumb stays steady and smoothing along her hand the whole way out of the stadium and into the massive parking lot.

“My car or yours, Cher?” 

“I don’t– I don’t– Ellie– uh, I–” She’s still holding tight to his hand, her eyes darting around the lot, clearly working herself into a state, the continued onslaught of fireworks not helping at all. 

“That’s alright. Cher? It’s alright, okay? Let’s sit in my car and I’ll drive you to yours when this is over.” He thinks she says okay, but he’s already focused on pulling her along to his car. And when they get in, him in the driver’s seat and her in the passenger’s, he realizes that, no, he’s not going to crack the windows, trying to keep as much of the sound out as possible. So he lets the car idle and cranks the AC up as high as it will go, and it’s probably going to burn up his tank of gas, but he doesn’t care, because it seems to muffle the noise of the fireworks just enough for her to start coming back down. He’s still holding her hand over the center console.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry, Joel.” She takes her hand out of his, pressing her palm to her chest, letting out a long breath through her nose. 

“Don’t, Cherry. It’s okay.” She keeps her eyes closed and her palm against her chest, long inhales and exhales, and he realizes that she’s doing a breathing exercise. He only knows it because the shrinks at the VA started Tommy in on it when he kept having panic attacks after coming home. And something like anger settles in his stomach, slithering up and seeping out between his ribs, sickening and slick. Anger that no, this hasn’t gotten any better. Anger that no, this probably won’t get better. And no, no one deserves it, but he selfishly thinks to himself that she especially doesn’t deserve it. 

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Cher.” Her eyes finally slip open, head tilting onto her shoulder to look at him. Mercy, it’s passing. Mercy, he could help her through its passing. 

“So, Maureen Henderson, huh?” 

“Oh, you’re still on that?” Small smile, he’ll take it.

“You could have done better, that’s all.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” 

“Well since you remember it so well, who was your first?” 

“You’re not gonna like my answer.” 

“Try me.” 

“It was Mikey Donahue.”

“No.” She was right, he didn’t like that answer, not one bit.

“Yeah, I think his friends dared him to do it, honestly.” 

“That little shit.” 

“Uh-huh.”

“You could have done better.” That gets a full smile from her, her nose scrunching up at the same time something takes off in his chest. 

“I guess we both could have.”

“Yeah, Cher, I guess so.”

...................................................

taglist: @casa-boiardi @tieronecrush @swiftispunk @beskarandblasters @trulybetty @amanitacowboy @pr0ximamidnight @wannab-urs @jksprincess10 @suzmagine @everything-isfucked @lanabobana @kittenlittle24 @sarap-77 @officerrrfriendly @val-srz @bitchwitch1981 @redwoodsanddaffodils @themothersmercy @romanarose @lost-inhawkins @youcancallmeelle @hollywoodcaligirl @

[reysdriver]

sirius black x pureblood!slytherin!reader where he takes her home for break or for the summer and walburga and Orion are enthralled by her which pisses sirius off for obvious reasons and he distanced himself from her and eventually she confronts him and reassures him

When Sirius brings you home to Grimmauld Place over the winter break and then starts to distance himself, you feel the need to confront him and talk about what's going on — sirius x fem!pureblood!slytherin!reader hurt/comfort

warnings: themes of a toxic/abusive family

words: 0.8k

a/n: I was kinda unsure how to write this one since the family is canonically super abusive to sirius so I'm just kinda pretending they're more just cold and rude to him so I could make this, I hope you like it :)

“Regulus,” You called alongside a knock on his door, pulling his attention away from the book in his hands. “Do you know where Sirius has gone off to?”

He sat up so his back was up against the hard headboard. “He’s probably moping in his room. That’s his favourite thing to do here.”

You would have laughed at that if it weren’t for the fact that you just couldn’t find your boyfriend. “I’ve checked there.” You sighed. “But that’s alright, he’s somewhere around here.” 

After thanking Regulus politely—even if he couldn’t help find his brother—you  left his bedroom and went back to looking for Sirius. 

Over the winter break, you had noticed yourself having to play this one-sided game of hide and seek several times. It was frustrating, especially when you didn’t know why he was so distant. Nevertheless, you kept your head up and just continued the search. 

You checked the drawing room and sure enough, there he was, sitting by the window and looking outside. You walked towards Sirius and tapped him on the shoulder to show him what you had wanted to show him in the first place. 

“Siri, look at this bracelet your mother gave me. Isn’t it nice? She said I could even have the whole set as a wedding gift eventually!” You said happily, flashing him a silver bracelet adorned with small but shining emeralds. 

He flashed a tiny smile, not nearly matching your emotions or genuineness. “Yeah, love, it’s pretty.”

You could tell he obviously didn’t care. Sirius was pretty fashion forward and has been enthusiastic in the past when you’ve shown him new clothes or jewellery, so that excuse couldn’t be used. 

Running through different excuses and reasons as to why he was acting this way, you had thought that maybe he was upset that both you and his mother had been thinking about marriage. Insecurity surged throughout your whole body. 

You had spoken about marriage before, but it was never more than pillow talk or teasing jokes; was your relationship getting too real for Sirius? Was he upset that you had been talking to his family about your future together? Had he lost his feelings?

The different theories flying around in your head were getting to be too much, and you couldn’t let them go unanswered. You were determined to figure out what was going on as soon as possible. 

You sat down on the loveseat with him. You were close to him, but you still gave him enough space in case he wanted it. 

“Sirius, what’s wrong?” You asked softly. “You’ve been seeming off lately.”

He just brushed it away. “Nothing’s wrong.” 

You knew it was a lie so you kept pressing gently. “I know there’s something that’s upsetting you. Just tell me what it is so we can fix it.”

“I’m fine.” He insisted. “You can go back to hanging out with my parents, maybe they’ll give you my bedroom by the end of the week.”

That stung slightly, but it did at least partially reveal the reason for his recent distance. He was upset that his parents were so taken with you. Of course, you understood that Sirius didn’t have the best relationship with his family, but you had hoped he would be happy seeing you getting along with them. The thought of him being jealous hadn’t even crossed your mind. 

You brought a hand to his upper arm and rested it there. You tried speaking softly to make it clear you weren’t judging him at all. “Siri, are you jealous?”  

“They like you more than me.”

“They don’t. They’re just happy I’m in Slytherin. They like that they’ll have pureblood grandkids with the most Slytherin lineage as possible.” 

“But you like them too.” Sirius said sadly. 

“I only like them as much as they like you.” You explained. “If they’re gonna be awful to you, then I don’t like them at all. I can just pretend otherwise in exchange for some priceless family heirlooms.” 

There was a smug smile on your face as you shook your bracelet in front of Sirius, causing him to chuckle. 

“You’d steal from my family for me?” He asked you with a fake pout. 

You cupped his cheeks and pressed a kiss to those soft lips you love so much. “Of course I would. And once we graduate and get the hell away from them, we’ll sell it all and buy a nice house without ever dipping into your uncle’s fortune.”

“Alright.” He sighed overdramatically. “If it’s for a great cause like that, then I think you should go ahead and ask my mother for a tour of all her priceless jewels.”

“I’ll make sure she gives me a nice brooch so we can have a pool, my love.”

[cherienymphe]

Amnesiac IV (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

WARNINGS: eventual NON-CON, eventual DUB-CON, dub-con kissing, violence, public sex, memory loss, underage drinking, drug use, non canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts​​​ | divider by @firefly-graphics​

➥ series masterlist

summary: “There’s something wrong with your love story, baby…”

After a surfing accident leaves you with little to no memory of everything that happened before that day, you start to wonder if the blond in what little memories you do have is the same one who claims to be your boyfriend.

~

Rafe loved kissing you.

You didn’t think it was possible to love anything as much as Rafe loved to kiss you. Once you had crossed that line and loosened the boundary some, he was like a man starved. He liked to kiss you when you first woke up, waving off all concerns of morning breath as his lips chased yours. He made a habit of tasting your lips as soon as you both settled into his truck, like some ritual he had to partake in before he got on the road. Even during the most random of moments like during dinner, he’d lean over while Ward was mid conversation and would quickly touch his lips to yours.

It disgusted Sarah beyond belief.

“It just takes some getting used to,” she had mumbled one day.

You had caught her alone on the back deck, alternating between reading and texting John B. It bothered you that while you two were evidently close before, it didn’t exactly hold up after your accident. You suspected that it had something to do with Rafe, and you weren’t entirely wrong.

“It makes me happy to see that Rafe is treating you well. I mean it,” she’d honestly said. “…but who he is with you isn’t who he is with everyone else.”

She didn’t say it, but you could read between the lines. You picked up on what she was thinking about specifically.

“Like JJ…?”

She sighed, looking away.

“Do you still think Rafe said something or did something to provoke him?”

You still found that so hard to believe. You couldn’t imagine Rafe doing anything like that no matter how hard you tried. Sure, his anger and cruel words that day had shocked you, revealing a side to him that you didn’t know existed, but to be fair, he had been wearing the evidence of an assault at the time. To you, his anger was more than justified.

“It’s clear that Rafe would prefer to keep you in the dark about a lot of things,” she exhaled. “…and honestly? I guess I can’t blame him.”

She looked up at you then.

“There’s just so much shitty stuff that you’ve been given the opportunity to just forget, and I’d probably want to keep things as nice for you as long as I could too. I mean, it’s not like I’m giving you a play by play of everyone’s fuck ups either.”

She shrugged.

“Rafe seems to really like you, and as much as I can’t stand him, I don’t think it’d be fair of me to write a list of every bad thing he’s done when he’s actually doing right by you.”

If you didn’t know any better, she actually looked annoyed with herself as she said this.

“But with that being said, Rafe and JJ have a messy history that goes beyond your accident. Hell, it goes beyond when you and JJ started to become friends. Although that definitely made things worse.”

She mumbled that last part to herself, and with Rafe inside, you took this opportunity to sit down.

You knew what Kelce said about JJ, and while what happened to Rafe pretty much confirmed it for you, you wanted to hear from Sarah too. You wanted to know why you were ever friends with someone who was so obviously bad news. You wanted to know why she and the rest of her friends continued to do the same.

“Kelce said that JJ is…violent, troubled.”

Sarah scoffed at that, slamming her book shut as she shook her head.

“If you’re going to know anything about this island, know that there’s a certain side of the island that thinks they’re so much better than others and is happy to look down on anyone who doesn’t come from where they come from.”

You glanced down, recalling Kelce’s disgusting words about people from The Cut.

“If you asked Topper, he’d tell you that he genuinely thinks people from The Cut were bred to mow lawns,” she continued with a humorless smirk.

You deeply frowned at that, and just like you wondered about the company Sarah kept…you were now starting to wonder the same about Rafe.

“JJ,” she started, sighing. “JJ just didn’t grow up with the same opportunities that they did.”

Your eyes met hers again, and her smile was sad now.

“Yeah, he’s a little troubled, but considering the home he grew up in, the man who raised him, I’d say he turned out better than okay.”

You bit your lip.

“No, he’s not perfect, but neither is Rafe,” she sardonically chuckled. “Yeah, JJ held a gun to Topper’s head once, but I’m positive Rafe didn’t tell you that Topper was trying to drown John B.”

Your eyes widened at that.

“…and I know Rafe didn’t tell you that he jumped Pope in retaliation. He beat him up with a golf club,” she spat.

“Sarah…”

“You don’t remember any of this, and that’s fine, but Rafe and his asshat friends should have the decency to be honest instead of telling you half-truths. They should stop trying to turn you against the people you genuinely cared about and who genuinely care about you…”

You glanced over your shoulder towards the inside of the house where Rafe was.

“…because you never cared about the stupid feud going on between the two sides of the island, and as much as I hate to admit it because I was jealous, there came a point where I wasn’t your best friend anymore.”

You looked at her just as she continued.

“JJ was.”

Your head spun a bit at that, and she looked like she was remembering something that you couldn’t.

“…and if I hated it, then Rafe really hated it.”

“Rafe, please,” you sighed, pulling away from him.

You could feel his worried gaze on you as you stood up, the sound of muffled music reaching your ears.

What you thought was going to be a normal day actually turned into your attendance at another party. Only this time, it was your own. The slight mirth in Rafe’s face as he mentioned a party later on in this very Cameron residence should’ve been your first hint. The way he picked out your dress and spent literal minutes admiring you and praising you in the mirror should’ve been another.

“You had one hell of a near death experience, and you’re here to tell the tale,” he’d told you at the shock on your face as you looked around. “That deserves to be celebrated.”

He had whispered that into your ear before leaning in to press his lips to yours in front of everyone. Ward and Rose were gone for the night, some art convention in Charleston that Rose had been dying to get to. Wheezie was at a sleepover, and you had no doubt that Sarah was with John B. At least, that was what Rafe had told you when you asked.

“You know those two, babe. They can hardly stay away from each other,” he’d said, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

Even though it was days later, your conversation with Sarah was still on your mind, and so you weren’t really in the party mood. You tried to fake it for Rafe’s sake, he’d gone out of his way to do this, after all, but you couldn’t keep up the façade for long. You were alone with your thoughts in Rafe’s room for all of 10 minutes before he found you. He’d looked concerned, but upon confirming that you were indeed fine, he didn’t really waste much time before pressing his lips to yours.

The moment that you realized it was getting hot and heavy, you pulled away, not really up for that either.

“What’s wrong?” he asked you, voice dropping a bit.

You crossed your arms over your chest, holding his gaze.

“Did Topper really try to drown John B?”

Your question was evidently the last thing he expected, and Rafe huffed a sigh, looking away. You swore you heard him curse Sarah’s name.

“So, it’s true…”

Rafe opened and closed his mouth, opting instead to take a deep breath.

“Rafe, I know that there are things I don’t remember and will never understand until I do, if I do, but… If I was as close with Sarah and her friends as I think I was, then I want to explore that.”

His gaze snapped up to hold yours then.

“I want to decide for myself who I hang around, and you and Kelce made it seem like JJ was such a horrible guy, but by your own standards…isn’t Topper?”

You hesitated, swallowing.

“Aren’t you…?” you softly continued.

You watched as Rafe’s gaze darkened, jaw clenching.

“Sarah told me what you did to Pope.”

“She-.”

“Not because she has it out for you or anything, but to show me that it isn’t so black and white.”

You hurried to get near him, taking Rafe’s hands.

“I know that you’re just trying to look out for me, but…I had a whole entire life before my accident, and I want to know everything. I want to know who all of my friends were and all of my hobbies and the places I liked to hang out at.”

Rafe was quiet for a moment before slowly exhaling. You kept your eyes on him as he stood to his full height, face unreadable but eyes narrowed just a tad as he gazed at you.

“JJ punched me while I was trying to get food for my family. That’s the kind of guy you want to get to know…?”

You hesitated, and Rafe’s brows drew together.

“Unless you think I did something to have that coming,” he slowly said, and you furiously shook your head.

“Rafe, no- of course not!”

He lifted one perfect brow, and you could feel yourself deflating.

“I just don’t think it’s that simple. You and Topper have done some things too-.”

“Things you don’t even remember. You don’t even remember the full story or context but just what Sarah told you, but you saw what he did to me. You saw with your own eyes what I am talking about,” he slowly said, gesturing to you.

You didn’t respond, not quite sure how to.

“Do…do you know what it was like to see you in that water?”

His words made your heart drop, and you sharply inhaled. Rafe’s face had hardened now, jaw clenched and blue eyes icy as they gazed at you.

“To pull you out? To push against your chest until I was sure I’d break it because I was so desperate to see you breathing again?”

You blinked, vision blurring a bit as you exhaled.

“Rafe…”

“I almost lost you…for good,” he sneered. “…and now history is repeating itself.”

“No-!”

“It is. It is because…this…thing where Sarah and her friends, where JJ gets in between us is looking pretty familiar.”

You looked down with a frown.

“I promised myself and you that things would be different this time. When I handed you over to the doctors and nurses at the hospital, I made that promise only for this to start happening again,” he spat.

You reached out to him, apologies on your lips when he snatched his hands away. You blinked, a few tears escaping as he stared you down. He slowly held his hands up, chest heaving with deep breaths before brushing past you, telling you that he needed some air.

You knew that it probably wasn’t your first fight with Rafe, but it was the first that you could remember.

Once Rafe had left, you’d just sat in his room and cried. The more you thought on it, the more you could see things from his perspective, and it just made you feel worse. You didn’t even want to imagine what Rafe had gone through in saving you, and the pain and anger in his eyes spoke of a past that was probably much more tumultuous than you thought.

Sarah had said that you and Rafe used to be close, but she’d also said that you and JJ had become closer…and somehow, your supposed dislike of Rafe was thrown into the mix somewhere. Was it possible that Rafe’s version of things was the truth? After all, Sarah had admitted that she never knew why you had suddenly started hating Rafe one day. She couldn’t even tell you while Rafe on the other hand seemed to have an actual answer…and it was JJ.

You didn’t even know what time the party ended, nodding off to the faint sound of music.

When you woke up, it was morning, and you could hear Rafe’s shower running. You didn’t know what time he came back, but his side of the bed was warm, and that told you that he’d slept next to you. You were still wallowing in sorrow when he came out, blinking at the sight of his towel hanging low on his hips. Your heart raced as your eyes traced the droplets that danced down his skin, and when he looked at you, you didn’t have time to pretend like you weren’t admiring him.

“Morning,” he eventually said.

It came off as guarded, and you blamed yourself. Rafe didn’t know where he stood with you, and you didn’t like that.

“I’m sorry,” was your reply.

You pushed yourself to sit up, heaving a sigh.

“I’m really sorry…”

You continued when he didn’t reply, opting instead to lean against his dresser and stare at you.

“When Sarah told me what you and Topper did…it shocked me,” you admitted. “I felt like I was thrown a curveball because suddenly there was this much darker side to you that I didn’t even know existed.”

You watched as he swallowed.

“It made me doubt everything you told me. It made me doubt you.”

Rafe exhaled before moving to sit before you, his fingers brushing yours on the bed.

“Yes, I’ve done some messed up stuff…but…you have to understand that this thing between us and the Pogues? We all have,” he admitted before reaching up with his free hand to brush his thumb over your lip. “Except you.”

He held your gaze, a crooked smile on his pink lips.

“Never you,” Rafe murmured. “…and that’s why its so unfair that you’re the one that got hurt the most when all you’ve ever done was try to get along with everybody. It’s like you paid for my fuck ups.”

You tilted your head to the side, face falling.

“Rafe, don’t…don’t say that,” you whispered.

“It’s true,” he replied, blue eyes focused on his bedding now. “I hurt some people, but I never…”

His gaze slowly lifted to meet yours again, and his voice was steady with conviction.

“I never hurt you.”

You threaded your fingers through his.

“…and now I feel like I have. I feel like the accident was my fault.”

“Rafe-.”

“I should’ve tried harder to keep you away from him, to be less pushy about a lot of things-.”

“Rafe, stop!”

His face was in your hands, now, and you shook your head.

“Stop it, please,” you begged. “That’s too much to internalize, to take on.”

You both were quiet for a while, and you sighed.

“Rafe, I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to be honest…”

He studied your face.

“…and whatever your answer is, I’ll respect that because I remember the love and trust that I had with you, and it is the only thing that I know for sure. That feeling.”

You brushed your thumbs over his skin.

“I don’t remember my supposed friendship with JJ or guns and murder attempts or even my friendship with Sarah. I don’t even remember hating you, but I do remember loving you,” you told him. “I remember that feeling, and I choose to trust that and you because it’s the only thing that has been certain, so…”

You licked your lips, and Rafe’s gaze followed the movement.

“Do you want me to be friends with JJ again? Do you want me to try and be friends with any of them again?”

Rafe took a long time to answer, and the emotions on his face changed so many times, the conflict within him evident. He eventually took a deep breath before his eyes met yours, holding your gaze with an intensity that made your skin hot.

“No.”

His voice didn’t waver, and he continued to hold your gaze.

“They’re bad for you, they always were, and…I don’t think I should be the bad guy for saying it,” he slowly told you.

His answer didn’t shock you, but your hands fell anyway, and you nodded.

“Okay,” you eventually replied. “Okay. If that’s what you want…”

Rafe’s eyes flitted between yours, searching your gaze for any uncertainty.

“Yeah…?”

You gave a nod, and he released a breath, reaching for you to rest his hand on the back of your neck before pulling you into a kiss.

Rafe always kissed you like his life depended on it. Desperate and hungry and feverish rolled into one. His hair was still damp, a few water droplets hitting your face as he moved his mouth over yours, and you’d almost forgotten that he wasn’t dressed until his chest brushed against you.

His other hand found your waist, fingers digging into the skin through your dress that you still had on from the night before. It was moments like this when you thought about that memory of the two of you on your bed. You’d wonder when this would progress into something more, and then you’d mentally smack yourself because you knew that was entirely dependent upon you.

You didn’t need to be a genius to know that Rafe wanted you.

Badly.

If the way he touched you wasn’t enough of a sign, then the way he looked at you definitely was. He always ran his eyes over you in a way like he was committing you to memory…or recalling one. It made you nervous in a good way, but then those thoughts would lead to insecure ones.

Had you been good in bed? Had Rafe been satisfied with you? It seemed like the obvious answer was ‘yes’. After all, why would he stay? And why would he constantly undress you with his eyes if he hadn’t been? When Rafe’s hand slid to the front of your neck, something deep in your gut flipped…and you didn’t know why.

His fingers brushed over your skin, and they curled around your throat ever so gently, and you jerked. Rafe didn’t seem to notice, and you blinked your eyes open, reaching up to touch his hand. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest for some reason, and you squeezed your eyes shut just as a sharp pain burst through your temple.

Deep in the crevices of your mind, you felt a hand wrapped tightly around your throat, choking you and jerking you. You could see your own hand on the strange wrist, desperate and shaky. You couldn’t breathe and wind whipped against your face and there was a wall at your back.

You ripped yourself away from Rafe, eyes wide now as you stared past him.

You could feel Rafe looking at you strangely, and you couldn’t find the words to reassure him. You couldn’t even find the words to reassure yourself. Was that a memory? It had to be because God knows it certainly felt like one. You slowly reached up to touch your neck, and you heard Rafe call your name.

“Are you okay…?”

You slowly lifted your gaze, eventually nodding.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m…I’m fine. I think…”

That last part sounded more like a question, and Rafe rested his hand on your shoulder.

“Um…I need to shower,” you told him, slowly standing.

You practically stumbled to the bathroom, fearful and confused by the strangest sense of déjà vu you’d gotten just then.

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 25

You bond with a student and try to take matters into your own hands at the clinic. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-24 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut! (Unprotected P in V sex - don't be dumb), canon typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+.

Length: 5.6k

Tuesday, September 14, 2021 - Five and a Half Years Later

“So fucking cool.” 

The small girl standing in the corner of your classroom hadn’t noticed you yet. 

You’d gone down to refill your water bottle at the start of your lunch period, leaving an empty classroom and coming back to find a girl you didn’t know running her fingers over the worn spines of the books on the bookshelf you’d made out of scrap wood and cinderblocks. You just watched her silently for a moment, leaning against the doorframe, as she worked her way to the mural of the solar system you had on one wall. You’d been meaning to touch it up but it kept falling to the bottom of the list of things to get done. 

The girl didn’t seem to mind, craning her neck as she took it in. 

“Strong language,” you said, finally speaking up. She jumped and spun, her eyes wide. 

“Shit,” she said. You smiled. 

“I don’t bite,” you said, pushing off the doorframe and going for your desk. “Though I’d appreciate if you cut down on the swearing in my classroom.” 

“Sorry,” she said. She looked around the room a bit more, her fingers tapping on desks as she did. 

“You’re not one of my students,” you said, sitting down and taking a sip of water before grabbing some jerky out of your bag. 

“How do you know?” She frowned. 

“Well, I know my students, for starters,” you smiled a little. “But also, I’m guessing you’re a year or two young for my classes yet. How old are you?” 

“I’m 12,” she said. “I think, anyway. Not really sure about my birth date.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“So you’re not one of my students,” you said, watching her. “And you’re too young to be in my classes. But you’re in my classroom. So, tiny human, what brings you by?” 

She smiled a little at the title. 

“I had some science questions and my friend told me that I should come talk to you because you were cool,” she said. “And that you’d probably help me find the shi…stuff I was looking for.” 

“Dang,” you shook your head. 

She frowned. 

“What?” 

“Your friend said I was cool?” You asked. She nodded. “Well now I’m going to just have to do whatever you want, my primary goal has always been to make teenagers think I’m cool. Who’s your friend?” 

“Riley?” She asked it more than said it. 

“Dang,” you said again. “Riley’s a good kid, that makes it worse. Alright, what do you want to know about?” 

“She said everyone calls you Doc,” she said. “So are you like a doctor doctor or someone who just got a bunch of degrees and shi…stuff before the world ended?” 

“Doctor doctor,” you said. “So if you have questions about biology, I’m your gal. Other stuff I might need to do some research on.” 

“Oh,” her face fell a little bit. 

“I can do some research though,” you shrugged. “I like research.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yup,” you nodded. “Pretty much the whole reason I became a scientist to begin with, research is fun. So tell me what you want to know about and I’ll see what I can find for you.” 

“I really want to know about space,” she said, sitting at the desk closest to yours in the front row. “It’s just so fuck…freaking cool and huge and we only just started sending people up there before the world ended and we never really got to do anything with it…” 

“Space is very cool,” you said, getting up from your desk and going to the bookshelves. “I lived in Texas for a while. I went to the space center in Houston with a friend and his daughter once. Definitely something to see…. How comfortable are you reading? Do you like reading? Good at it?” 

“Reading’s cool,” she shrugged. “I like comics best but I read other stuff, too.” 

“If I’m grabbing anything that’s too hard, just let me know,” you said. “Any specific questions you have about space?” 

“Mostly what people actually did up there,” she said. “People left the freakin’ planet, do you know how cool that is?” 

You smiled a little. That was pretty cool. 

“OK,” you said, making a small pile of magazines and one book. “These are the magazines I have that talk about space a lot. Give those a read, tell me what you think is most interesting and I’ll find you more about that. Go ahead and make a list about any questions you have, too. Either words or concepts you don’t know or anything you want more information about, I’ll see what I can answer for you and then I’ll find you answers for the rest. And then, for fun, there’s A Wrinkle in Time, a book about traveling through space time. I think you’ll like Meg, she’s the best.” 

You grabbed a clipboard with a piece of paper and a pen on it, handing it to her. 

“I’m afraid I’m going to need your name to loan these out to you, though,” you said. “Put your name, the date, and just write space stuff on the ‘what I’m borrowing’ line, I’ll know what you mean.” 

She took the clipboard and filled it out. You took it back, looking at her blocky writing. 

“OK Ellie,” you handed her the pile. “Think you can come back by a week from today and bring back what you’ve finished? Doesn’t have to be everything, I just like keeping an eye on my library.” 

“I can do that,” she nodded. She glanced quickly at a corner of your classroom where you’d set up some beanbags before looking back to you. “Thanks for…” 

“Want to sit and read in the beanbags unit your next class?” You asked. Her face lit up. You smiled a little. “Go make yourself at home. You can come by here at lunch and read anytime you want, my door is open.” 

“Cool,” she smiled, taking a magazine to the corner and flopping down on the bean bag. You pressed play on the tape deck at your desk, a mix tape that someone had probably made for a girlfriend decades ago but it had a good mix of music to it. You turned the volume down low and read while eating, glancing up at the small girl curled up on the beanbags now and then. 

Ellie read, a serious look on her small face, until the bell rang. She looked surprised that time had passed so quickly but she gathered her things and stopped at your desk. 

“It’s really OK if I just come here at lunch?” She asked. “Riley has a different lunch period than me this year so I don’t really have anyone to sit with…” 

“Of course,” you smiled. “Come by anytime. And don’t forget to take those notes so we can do some research, OK?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Thanks, Doc.” 

You hoped Ellie would keep coming back. She was clearly a bright and curious kid, this school was almost certainly failing her at every opportunity. 

The school had never been great. It was part of the reason why you stayed, you felt someone needed to be invested in the students and their education and if no one else was going to do it you were. But it had been steadily declining the last few years, just like the rest of the QZ. 

A lot of infrastructure that had just been hanging on since the outbreak started to fold around the 15 year mark, more now that you were closing in on 20. It had been two years since you’d last had hot water, the hot water heater in your apartment going out after being repaired half a dozen times in the years prior. It finally gave up the ghost and so, too, had hot showers. Buildings badly needed repair and maintenance and the Fireflies had continued to make things worse by blowing up the stuff that didn’t. 

It seemed like the school you taught at now was just doing what it could to bring students up to be soldiers, not give them a proper education. When you’d started here, FEDRA needed people who could do a multitude of things, so a comprehensive education was necessary. The last few years, they just wanted muscle. Muscle didn’t need to know about the nervous system or the water cycle or the history of the United States. You were half waiting for FEDRA to drop all the pretext and stop educating students entirely. But, in the mean time, you tried to make your classroom a safe space for them, give them access to as much information as you possibly could. 

Your value to the QZ as a doctor gave you some leeway here, too. You were pretty sure they wouldn’t tolerate your methods and would just do away with you if you weren’t one of the few medical resources the QZ had. 

Of course, that value was seeming more and more limited now, too. FEDRA kept cutting back on resources. Most of the drugs that came in were opioids now, hardly anything for actual treatment, just managing symptoms. Tess was checking pharmacies for you on every run now and you were going out more and more frequently to find what you needed - Joel a silent wall who pretended you didn’t exist and you mostly happy to do the same. Even though you caught yourself looking at him more often than you cared to admit. 

Derek was less than thrilled with the situation. He still didn’t know much about Joel - your history became even easier to hide once you started actively avoiding him again - but he didn’t like your leaving the QZ so much. 

“There has to be another option,” he said one night as you were getting ready for bed, your bag packed and ready to leave in the morning. “It’s dangerous out there…” 

“Trust me, I’m not exactly itching to go out there,” you said, rubbing the lotion you’d left at Derek’s house into your hands before climbing into bed. “It’s hardly a picnic. But FEDRA hasn’t really given me another choice.” 

“Do you think other QZs have people out risking their lives to see what drugs they can scavenge?” He asked without giving you a chance to answer as he got into bed beside you. “Because I can just about promise you, they don’t. It’s not reasonable for you to be going out there all the time, you can’t help anybody if you get yourself killed…” 

“Then I’ll just try really hard not to die,” you kissed him. “It doesn’t matter if no one else is out there doing what I’m doing. I just can’t live with myself if I’m not doing everything I can. Soon things will be gone or so far out of date that they’re useless regardless of dosage so this is kind of a finite thing, anyway. But for now we have these resources so I intend to use them.” 

“I still don’t like it…” 

“Can we not fight the night before I leave?” You asked, pressing yourself against him. “I can think of way better ways to spend our time…” 

You kissed him and, at first, he reluctantly kissed you back. But it didn’t take long before his hand went to your ass, fingers sinking into your flesh, pulling your hips tight to his. He rolled you onto your back, nestling himself between your legs as your arms went around his neck, grinding his hips down against yours. You groaned into his mouth as his hands slid down your body to your underwear, hooking his fingers in them and tugging them down, tossing them aside before sinking two fingers into you. 

“See?” You said, grinding against his hand. “Way better than fighting.” 

He just bit your lower lip in response, making you laugh. You shoved his pants down before nudging him into sitting up. You moved with him, straddling him, reaching between your bodies to grip his cock while his thumb rubbed your clit. He quickly added two fingers to your pussy, pressing into you firmly as he kissed down to your breasts, taking a nipple in his mouth. You rose up on your knees just enough to notch his head against your entrance and slowly took him inside you, his face buried in your neck as you did. 

You rode him slowly, rising and falling on him in long, firm strokes as his hands and mouth ranged over your body, his hips pressing up into yours so his cock would bottom out inside you. 

“Don’t want to lose you,” he groaned, his mouth against your throat. 

“You won’t,” you gasped back, your body tightening around his cock. His arms went around your waist, pulling you so tight to him that the only way either of you could move was him thrusting up into you, his face buried in your chest. The tip of him pressed into the place inside you that made your head spin and you came around him with a shuddering gasp, his orgasm not far behind. 

His grip on you loosened after he filled you, his head tipping back to look you in the eye. 

“Promise you’re coming home to me, Love,” he said. 

You kissed him gently. 

“Promise.” 

The trip had been relatively uneventful. You’d run into one group of raiders, but you’d heard them coming soon enough that you and Tess were able to stash yourselves safely away while Joel talked with them and they moved on, no blood spilt. You came home with only a few dozen usable bottles. You knew you had a year, maybe two left of being able to scavenge anything like this at all. You weren’t sure what anyone was going to do then. 

You were still thinking about Ellie that afternoon at the clinic. It had been so long since you had a student seek out knowledge quite that aggressively. You really really hoped she came back. You were going to tell Andrew about her but he just looked exhausted. 

“You practically have a kindergartener,” you teased. “There’s no way you can blame lack of sleep on the kid.” 

“I can blame it on the future kid,” he groaned. “Jess was tossing and turning all night, she’s at the severe discomfort stage.” 

“As a medical professional, I can tell you that all stages of pregnancy are the severe discomfort stage,” you smiled. He glared at you. “But yeah, she’s getting pretty far along.” 

“I think she’s ready to come here, hand you a scalpel and say ‘please cut this thing out of me,’” he said. “She’s so done, wants to have the baby here and skip the rest of the pregnancy and labor part.” 

“If only,” you said. “How is young Miss Elizabeth by the way? I haven’t seen her this week.” 

“Eating everything in sight,” he said. “Think she’s having another growth spurt…” 

“Does she need cookies?” You asked. “Because I can make cookies.” 

You’d become enraptured with Andrew and Jess’ daughter, Elizabeth, from the second she was born. You could watch her do anything and everything, wanted to give her whatever her heart desired. 

Jess had asked for you and Andrew with her when she gave birth and watching that little girl draw her first breath had been one of the best moments of your life, even as it was tinged in the bittersweet thought that you’d never experience that with your own child. They’d named her Elizabeth, after Jess’ mom, but had given her the middle name Sarah in honor of the girl who you’d loved like a daughter. You sobbed the first time you held her, her soft perfection blurry behind your tears.

“I think we will pass on the sugar high, thank you Auntie Doc,” he smiled. 

“Hey Doc,” Kristen hung her torso into the waiting room. “Need you on a consult.” 

“Cookie offer still stands,” you said as you headed back. “If she wants cookies, I’ll make cookies.” 

You could practically hear him roll his eyes. You looked to Kristen. 

“Whatcha got?” You asked. 

“Well, it’s basic,” she said, keeping her voice low. “But there’s a pattern…” 

She opened up the chart. It was for a woman you’d treated before, Penny. Small things over the past few years, a few broken bones, lacerations that needed stitches… You frowned at the locations, the frequency. 

“I see what you mean,” you said. “What’s her living situation?” 

“Just her and her husband,” she said. “But he’s a guard…” 

“Shit,” you sighed. 

“Doc,” she looked at you. “It’s bad this time. I’ve tried to do safety checks before but…” 

“I got it,” you sighed, heading to the door. You knocked once and let yourself in. 

“Hi Penny,” you smiled, forcing yourself to hold it. She’d gotten the shit beat out of her. One eye was swollen shut, there were bruises around her throat. Kristen had already set a broken wrist. “How are you doing today?” 

“Oh, I’ve been better,” she tried to smile but her cut cheek kept it for being too wide. You did a few quick checks, seeing if she had signs of a concussion or internal bleeding before pulling up a stool next to the exam table. 

“So,” you said, looking at her. “Want to tell me what happened?” 

“It’s not that bad,” she said quickly, but her eyes were welling up with tears. “Really, I just…” She started sobbing. “I don’t know what to do, he’s a guard so no one will arrest him, I can’t just leave town…” 

“Hey,” you said, putting a hand gently on her knee. “I understand, OK? We’re going to figure the out. To start, we’re going to keep you overnight at least for observation. Maybe a few nights. Maybe a week. I’ll try to see what we can get worked out in the meantime, but for now, you’re going to be safe and in here, OK?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded. “OK.” 

You gave Kristen a few instructions and went back out to the front. No one was in the waiting room, but you lowered your voice, anyway. 

“Andrew,” you said, standing close to him. “I need you to find Penny’s emergency contact sheet, find out who her husband is.” 

“Yeah, sure,” he said with a frown, going over toward filing. You hovered by the front desk, trying to think of a solution. 

The QZ was small, too small for her to stay hidden for long. You could maybe see if she could travel as a passenger on a convoy headed to Atlanta under a different name. Elias might be able to make that happen. Then it would just be a matter of hoping that no one traveling with her knew her or her husband, especially not the guards. And that you could get her out of the city before he fucking killed her. You sighed. It seemed like things that were problems before the outbreak were just bigger problems now. Like the world had decided to go to shit in the most extreme way it could possibly find. 

You still hadn’t come up with a solution the next day beyond keeping Penny in the clinic for a bit to at least keep her out of harm’s way for now. She was getting anxious, though, certain that her husband was going to track her down and cause problems. 

She was right. That evening, you were in with a patient when you heard some screaming from the entry, a man’s unfamiliar voice and Andrew’s forceful baritone back. 

“Excuse me,” you smiled to the woman you were treating before peeling off your gloves and leaving the exam room. There was a heat in you, building, spreading through your body. White hot, vengeful, righteous. You’d fought for years to make this place safe and someone was threatening it. 

You ducked into a surgical suite on the way and grabbed a scalpel from an area that hadn’t been sterilized yet, holding the handle in your fist like a talisman. You went into the waiting area to find a man in a guard’s uniform - hulking, at least six feet tall - screaming at Andrew, who was standing behind the desk. 

“I will burn this fucking place to the ground if you don’t bring me my goddamn wife!” He yelled. 

“Hey!” You yelled, stalking up to him. He turned his attention to you quickly. “Get the fuck out of my clinic before I make you get the fuck out of my clinic!” 

“The fuck you going to do about it?” He started toward you and you whipped the scalpel forward, slicing the palm of his hand. He hissed, yanking it back in surprise and you took the opportunity to put the blade to his throat.

“That,” you snapped. “Get the fuck out.” 

He scowled at you. 

“This isn’t over.” 

“It is for now,” you said. “Leave.” 

He held your gaze for a second, spittle on his lips, before he stepped back. 

“Fucking kill you too, you little bitch,” he stalked off. 

The second he was out of the door, you looked around. Everyone in the waiting room had cowered back into a corner. 

“Everyone OK?” You asked. No one said otherwise. Andrew just looked at you. 

“Alright,” he said, coming over and putting his arm around your shoulders. “Come on…” 

He steered you into the break room before carefully pulling the scalpel from your hand. 

“You good?” He asked, searching your face. You realized then that your hands were shaking. “Yeah, didn’t think so, where the hell did that come from?” 

“I don’t know,” you were hyperventilating. “I just heard him, I knew it was him, I knew what he was after and I just wasn’t going to let him hurt anyone here on my watch and the only thing I could think to do was that…” 

“Look, I love that you threatened to shank a FEDRA guard,” he said. “That’s the dream. But he’s going to come back and if the guards won’t do anything…” 

“I know,” you were shaking. He pulled you into his chest. 

“It’ll be OK,” he said, stroking your hair. “We’ll talk to Elias, there has to be something we can do…” 

You just nodded into his chest. But you had a different idea, one that you couldn’t afford to bring Andrew in on. 

You ducked out of work a few minutes early. Andrew had volunteered to stay the night to fend off any potential acts of aggression. It made you nervous but he could handle himself. There were weapons on site in case of an outbreak, so he was armed and ready at least. You, on the other hand, walked straight to Joel’s. 

He opened the door quickly when you knocked, frowning when he saw you standing there. 

“Tess ain’t here,” he said. 

“Not here for Tess,” you replied. “Here to talk to you. I’m calling in a favor, think you owe me a few at this point, Miller.” 

He sighed, opening the door and letting you in. 

***

You refused to properly sit down, instead just leaning back against his kitchen counter as he stood opposite you, a glass of whiskey in his hand. 

To say he was surprised to see you was an understatement. You tolerated him on trips outside the QZ but said as little to him as you possibly could. You’d made it very clear that you were done with him. It killed him every time. 

“What do you want?” He asked, as though he would drive some kind of hard bargain. As though he wouldn’t just give you whatever you asked for. 

“I need you to tell me how to kill a person,” you said, chin out, defiant. “In a ‘make them disappear’ way.” 

He looked you up and down. He knew you were in your 40s now but you didn’t look it. Even after all the years in the QZ there was still something soft about you, something safe and warm and kind. You weren’t a killer. 

“Why?” He asked. 

“I have a patient,” you replied. “Her husband damn near killed her. Came into the clinic today threatening to burn the place down if we didn’t give her to him. I had to put a scalpel to his throat to get him to leave…” 

“Tell the guard,” he shrugged, watching you closely. 

“He is a guard,” you replied, shaking your head. “They won’t take down one of their own. He threatened to kill me today as he was leaving… I’ve thought about it and the only way to do this is to kill him. But I’ve only ever shot infected or euthanized people, I’ve never… I don’t know how to do what you do. I need you to tell me so I can do it.” 

His jaw tensed as he strained to hold himself back. Someone had threatened to hurt you - a guard, no less - and you just wanted a guidebook on how to handle it yourself. 

“No,” he said firmly. 

“What do you mean no?” You snapped. “Like I said, I think you owe me a favor or two at this point, Miller, I’ve spent a decade and a half helping to keep you alive…” 

“Derek know you’re asking for this?” He asked, all but spitting the man’s name out. He had no reason to, he seemed like a decent enough guy. He just got to touch you and he hated him for it. 

Honestly, Joel owed Derek at least a thank you. He’d picked you up with Tess from Derek’s one morning to go on a run and Derek had invited them into his apartment while you grabbed something you’d left in his bedroom. There were photos spread out on the kitchen table. Joel caught a glimpse of one of you. You didn’t look like you even knew the photo was being taken. You were folded into a threadbare armchair, a book in your hands. Your hair was a little wild, a ribbon holding it back from your face. You legs were bare, he could just see a hint of tank top and cleavage over the top of the book. Your face was the real draw though, totally absorbed, as though there was nothing outside of you and the page in front of you in the world. He hadn’t seen you like that in years. When Derek turned his back, he pocketed the photo. 

“Why would Derek know?” You asked. “He’s not involved. No one knows I’m asking for this and I’m just trusting that you won’t turn me into FEDRA for it. Tell me how to make someone disappear.” 

“Can’t just tell you how to kill someone like that, Kid,” he said, crossing his arms. You opened your mouth to protest but he cut you off. “What’s his name.” 

“What?” You frowned. 

“His name.” He said. “Give me the name, where I can find him. I’ll take care of it.” 

Your eyebrows knitted together. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m not asking you to kill someone for me, I can handle my own shit…” 

“No, you can’t,” he said. “You really think you can just kill a guard? You, who hates killin’ and hurtin’ anything thinks you’re going to just waltz into some guard’s living room and put him out?” 

You glared at him. 

“You’re right,” he said. “I owe ya. I owe ya a lot. Give me the name.” 

“You know what, Joel,” you snapped. “If you don’t respect me, just say so, OK?” 

“Never said I don’t respect you,” he frowned, confused. Ever since you’d found out he’d sent Tommy away, you automatically jumped to the worst possible conclusion about anything he said or did. 

“You respect strength and skill and you clearly don’t think I have any,” you snapped. “I still know you, Joel…” 

“Apparently you don’t if you think I don’t respect ya,” he snapped, closing the distance between you quickly, caging you back against the cabinets. Your breath hitched. “I know you’re smart, I know you’re capable and I know you’re not a fuckin’ killer, let me keep you from turnin’ into one and give me the goddamn name!” 

His body was against yours for the first time in years. You still felt the same against him. He still wanted to touch and hold you in the same places, still wanted to knot his fingers in your hair and kiss you until your lips were swollen with it. You still smelled like lavender. You still would rip him open and destroy him if he let you. 

You slowly reached into your pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper with a name and address. Your eyes never left Joel’s. He took it, stepping back from you. 

“I’ll take care of ‘em,” he said, putting it in his pocket. 

“Joel,” you said softly. 

“You should go home,” he said. “Make sure you’re in before curfew.” 

You nodded once. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly as you turned to leave. 

Joel waited until he knew you were gone to fuck his hand while thinking about sinking into you. What would have happened if he’d kissed you. How he’d have held your face, touched your breasts, fingered you until you came around him. The sounds you made when he ate you until he was drowning in you. The way you felt when you came around his cock as he drove deep inside you, so wrapped up in you that he almost didn’t know where he ended and you began. He came harder than he had in months, the memory of the feel of your body against his so close but so far. 

Joel got an early start the next day, going and waiting near the address you’d given him. He watched a man come outside and shook his head. He was huge, he’d have taken you apart. It would have been almost funny, you thinking you could kill this man without the help of a gun, if he hadn’t threatened to kill you. 

He let the rage fill him then, soaking in the heat of it. Killing this man would be justice. Killing this man would be a good thing. Killing this man would protect you. 

He came along side him, glancing to his name tag before he took his knife and put his arm around the man’s shoulders, pressing the knife into his side. 

“What the…” 

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll kill you on the street,” Joel snapped. “Walk with me.” 

He steered him into an abandoned building, taking him toward the center of it. 

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing,” the man snapped. Joel shoved him into the room. 

“You beat your wife?” He asked. The man just blinked at him in shock. “Say you’re going to burn down the clinic? Threaten to kill a doctor?” 

“That fuckin’ cunt send you?” He snapped. Joel wasn’t sure if he was talking about you or his wife but he didn’t care. “Look, I don’t have any problem with you…” 

“I’ve got one with you,” Joel said. “You threatened her so I’ve got a big fuckin' problem with you.”

“That little doctor bitch?” He snapped. He was getting worried now. Joel liked it. “I’m sorry about that, OK? If that’s your problem, nothing needs to happen with her, I’ll leave her be, I just want my fuckin’ wife back…” 

“That’s not how it works,” Joel shook his head. “I don’t take risks with her, not with pieces of shit like you.” 

The man tried to charge him but he sidestepped him and thrust the knife into his gut, twisting and pressing it deep as the man gasped in shock. He felt the blood spill onto his hand and he pushed the man to the ground. He yanked his knife free as the man gasped and blinked up at him in shock. 

“Now,” Joel knelt beside him. “You’re lucky, You hadn’t hurt her yet, or this would be worse. Sounds like you deserve worse, anyway, but…” he shrugged. “Rather be quick with it.” 

He slit his throat and waited until he was sure he was dead before he cleaned his knife on the man’s clothes and grabbed the blood splattered velcro name tag from the man’s uniform. He pocketed it, gave himself a once over to ensure he’d missed the worst of the blood, and left him there. With the building’s state, it would likely be weeks before they found him, if at all. 

That afternoon, he went to the clinic. Andrew frowned at him. 

“She here?” He asked gruffly. 

“I’ll grab her,” he said, looking Joel up and down for a moment before disappearing into the back. He came out with you and you just froze in the doorway to the exam rooms.

Joel allowed himself a second to just look at you. He’d always liked how you dressed the days that you both taught and were at the clinic - a combination of bright and cheerful for your students and professional and serious for your patients. It seemed most like you. His mind lingered on the feeling of unbuttoning your shirt when you got home, feeling how you melted against him after your long day. 

He wordlessly walked over to you, pulled the name tag out of his pocket and pressed it into your palm. You looked down at it for a moment, running your fingers over the stitching before looking back up at him. 

“Thank you,” you said softly. 

He just nodded once and left before he gave into his urge to touch you. 

A/N: YES THAT'S RIGHT WE HAVE ELLIE! WE'RE GETTING SO CLOSE!

Next chapter will likely be the last all pre-canon QZ based chapter (maybe one more after but I doubt what I have planned to wrap up all the OC QZ stuff will take more than one chapter) and then we will be off on the quest to bring Ellie west :D

(Also note, though it wasn't by name, Ellie heard her first Joel story today, did you catch it?)

I have a taglist, please let me know if you'd like to be added by commenting below :)

Thank you, as always, for reading and interacting! Love you all :)

Taglist: @paleidiot@ayamenimthiriel@ginger-swag-rapunzel@drewharrisonwriter@flugazi @pedropascalsbbg@taoyuji@starstruckmusiciansartghost@splendsay@bigboiseason123@jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10@sloanexx@ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli @reds-ramblings@arizonadaydreamer@mumma-moonchild@blackroseguzzi

[rudymentari]

undefined

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle animatic time....

rant/explanation under the readmore⬇️

This is technically part of my au but I think it works just fine with canon So part of the upcoming rant is going to be AU exclusive stuff and part of it is just how I see canon and I am not going to tell you which 

This is about Donatello's relationships with the humans he's known but it's also partially about Donnie's high and specific expectations of romance which he projects onto April in a sort of unhealthy way and which is later [hinted at being] turned completely on its head when. Casey and ensuing Bi Crisis 

Also I just think the whole thing with Timothy was incredibly sad and nobody ever talks about it

Okay so Donnie grows up with no human interaction and has never so much as seen anyone in a relationship before so he gets all he knows from old romance movies and books, which he only indulges in in private bc he knows his brothers would make fun of him for being so invested in it. So he has these very specific expectations for romance, and plans for his future that are mostly fantastical because he knows he is still just a mutant turtle living in the sewers. But when he meets April he’s like all my dreams are coming true :D. They aren’t, of course, and Donnie is just kind of overbearing and weird for a little bit until he learns to tone it down. Casey is a whole other story though; Donnie doesn’t know he even Can like guys, its not something he’s ever even thought of. So he doesn’t fully realize he has feelings for Casey and what exactly they are until way after this video takes place. He kind of has a whole crisis about it, the whole breaking of the mould completely throwing off his plans and expectations. He doesn’t know if it’s allowed, and he doesn’t know what his father [now dead] would think of it. And this whole jonatello arc is going to be kind of a large part of the AU

Also. I’m pretty sure Timothy’s frozen body gets shown like one more time ever but in this AU he was taken by the kraang because i cannot stand the thought that Donnie would just never acknowledge him again

Still have not seen past season 3 tho so bear with me 

[hawkeyetrained]

Shifters

Dean Winchester x Fem!reader established relationship

Other Characters: Sam Winchester

Warnings: canon violence, language?, guns, kidnapping, mention of wounds, that’s it I think?

Summary: While Sam and Dean are out doing surveillance, shifters come in and take her 

Word Count: 2337

I was tasked with the research while the boys went out to watch the man we were sure was our shifter. I had been sat on my motel bed for a few hours, music playing softly in the background while I read from the lore books Sam gave me. Dean had promised that they wouldn’t be too long, so I wasn’t overly worried that they had been gone for about two hours. I simply figured they had stopped for food and would be on their way back shortly.

It was now nearing midnight and I was tempted to call Dean and ask where they were when there was a sudden knock on the door. I sat the book down next to my phone on the bed and stood, holding tightly to the ivory gripped pistol Dean had given me for my birthday. My feet made no noise as I went to the door to peek through the hole. My eyes caught sight of Dean standing on the other side, Sam behind him. I sighed loudly and put the gun into the back waistband of my jeans. “You forgot your key, didn’t you?” I asked as I pulled the door open.

“Not exactly.” Both boys walked in and as I shut the door, I noticed Sam closing the curtains to the window. I felt my nerves skyrocket instantly. I slowly walked over to the two Winchester boys and stood beside Sam as Dean sat on the bed.

“How did the research go?” I asked, trying to see if I had a reason to suddenly be nervous, Dean should give me an odd look and tell me they didn’t do research, that I did.

Dean looked up at me. “Went okay, I guess. I don’t think we found anything to go off of though.”

I forced a smile on my lips and snagged my phone from the bed. “I’m gonna go grab a soda. You boys want anything?”

“Nope.” Dean said and Sam shook his head. My fingers wrapped around my bag and a brown coat that belonged to Dean as I walked out the door. I stepped into the hall and pulled my phone from my pocket as I walked over to the vending machine. My eyes trailed across the parking lot, looking for the familiar Impala, but I didn’t see it. As I stopped at the machine, I pressed on Dean’s name and put the phone up to my ear.

“Hello?” Dean asked as he answered the phone. “You ok? How’s the research going?”

My blood ran cold. “I need you guys to get back here, now.” I tried keeping my voice calm as I walked away from the vending machine and out into the parking lot, sliding Dean’s brown jacket over my green tank top.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Dean’s voice was panicked, and I heard the Impala rumble to life as two doors shut. “Are you ok?”

I took a deep breath and glanced over my shoulder towards the motel room. “No. There’s shifters in our room.” My hands shook as I tried finding a car that I could break into without the alarm going off. “Please, come get me now.” Just as I stopped walking, I was suddenly aware of the presence behind me and before I could turn, or alert Dean, I was hit, and my vision went black.

!@#$%&*

Mumbled talking woke me up. I groaned as I pulled my head up and took in my surroundings. It was cold, dark, and damp, everything that described the sewers, great. “She’s awake.” I could hear Dean’s voice drift through the room. My arms tugged against the bindings and I glanced down to see thick wire wrapped around my skin under the coat, already creating cuts. “How are you feeling? Got a headache?”

“Go to hell.” I said, doing my best to glare at the shifters in front of me. “What do you want?”

Both shifters laughed. “Years ago, two other monsters caused a lot of issues for the Winchesters, going on that killing spree and sending the FEDS after you. Remember that?” Sam taunted me, a smirk on his face. “Why not do it again? And start with the pretty little girl they run around with.”

“Poor Dean will be heartbroken if he comes to rescue you, only to find you already dead, and by the gun he gave you too.” The Dean shifter stated, waving my pistol around in the air. I froze in my spot on the damp floor at the sight of my gun. “But let’s have some fun first.”

!@#$%&*

             Nearly four hours passed, and I was now littered with bruises and cuts. Sweat covered my body and my head pounded with a headache. The shifters had ditched me about twenty minutes ago when they realized the boys were close to finding their hiding place. My pistol was on the ground about ten feet away from me but with the bindings on my wrists that tied me to a concrete post, I wasn’t going anywhere.

I had been working to undo the wires around my wrists for five minutes and I was now able to yank my right hand out and turn in order to get my left. Just as I could make out footsteps from behind me, I managed to get my gun and aim it at the intruders coming in to finish me off. “You take one step closer to me and I will blow your freaking heads off!” I shouted at the two sets of footsteps coming closer to my fragile body.

“Sweetheart?” Dean’s voice trailed through the concrete. “It’s me, and Sammy. We’re here to take you home.” He rounded the corner slowly with Sam right behind him, they both had their hands up in the air.

My heart pounded because I wanted to believe so badly that he was my Dean, but I couldn’t trust him yet. “Put your guns on the ground.” Both Winchesters complied without saying a word, setting their guns down on the ground and gently nudging them closer to me. “How do I know you’re the real Dean and Sam?”

Sam stepped forward and with my fear, I moved the gun over to him, making his hands raise even higher in the air. “You were doing research earlier, for the case. We went out to watch our suspect, obviously we got the wrong guy.” He gave me the answer I was looking for from the shifters in our room.

My eyes flashed to Dean then, waiting to hear what he was going to say. “Give me the ring.” I sent him a confused look, keeping my gun up. “The one you wear around your neck on the chain, the one that matches yours. Give it to me. It’s solid silver, right? If I were a shifter, I wouldn’t be able to wear it or even touch it without burning my skin. Give it to me.”

“Ok. You move when I get the ring and I swear I’ll shoot.” The Sam and Dean in front of me nodded, stepping back half a foot and allowing me to pull the ring off the chain and toss it over to Dean. He caught it and slipped it onto his left ring finger. “See, it’s me.” My pistol slipped from my fingers and dropped to the ground with a clank as Dean rushed over to me, tucking me into his chest as I sobbed. “I got you. You’re ok now, you’re safe.” He was whispering into my hair as I cried into his shoulder and clung to his body. I’ve never been more scared in my life than I was when I didn’t know if I could trust the Dean in front of me, since I knew my Dean would never hurt me.

“Did you kill them?” I asked once I was able to find my voice.

“Yeah baby. We got it. Damn thing looked like Sam.” He reassured me and helped me to stand.

I snagged my gun from the ground and held it tightly. “What about the other one? The one playing you?”

“We only found the one. Are you sure there was two?”

I nodded quickly. “Yeah, it was you and Sam that came into the hotel room. You didn’t kill two?”

Dean looked up to his little brother. “Get her to the car. I’m gonna kill this son of a bitch for putting its hands on my girl.” Sam took my hands and helped me over the cracked stone.

“Dean please be careful and come back to me.” I told him as he walked further into the sewers and Sam led me out to the car.

“Can I clean your cuts?” Sam asked as he let me lean against the side of the Impala. I nodded weakly at him and allowed him to clean the blood from my wrists and wrap them in white bandages to keep them from getting infected. “We’ll have to change the bandages at least twice a day until the cuts close up.” I nodded yet again to his words and kept my eyes out for either Dean or the shifter. “You alright?” Sam joined my side finally and leaned back against the car.

“I’ve never been more scared in my life, not knowing if I could trust you or Dean. And then you said you only got one of those damn things. Dean’s alone searching for the shifter and I want to help him so bad, but I can’t, what if I kill the wrong Dean?”

“You can’t think like that. My brother loves you more than anything in the world. He was out of his mind searching for you when your phone call suddenly cut off.” Sam’s arm wrapped around my shoulders in a protective hug. “You’re safe and Dean will kill the shifter, we have nothing to worry about.” I took a deep breath. Sam was right, he was always right. I pulled the sleeves of the jacket down over my hands as I watched the dark space for any signs of movement. “Can I ask you something though?”

“Of course.” I stated, turning my head slightly to look at the youngest Winchester.

“What’s with the rings? Dean said his matches yours?” Sam questioned.

I sighed and held out my left hand to him, showing off the stunning silver ring decorated in diamonds. “It was my mothers. Remember when I took Dean out to meet her a few months ago?” Sam nodded quickly, still looking at the ring. “Well, before she died, she asked for a few moments with Dean alone and I guess that’s when she gave it to him. A few weeks ago, he asked me to marry him.” I smiled softly at the memory. “I cried and Dean was over the moon with happiness when I said yes. We know there will probably never be anything official in order to keep our names quiet, but I found the ring he now has last week and gave it to him.”

“Then why did you have it?”

“Dean wanted to tell you in his own way. He wanted to make sure you were ok with it before he did anything. I’ve been keeping it safe while he thought of a way to tell you.” Sam’s arms suddenly wrapped around my body in a tight hug.

“I couldn’t be happier for you two. You’ve been a sister to me for a long time.” He leaned back and gave me a bright smile. A snapping branch in the distance broke the happy moment between the two of us. “Stay here and keep your eyes open. I’m going to go get my gun.” Sam walked off to the trunk of the car and just as he was about to open it, Dean walked out from the wooded area, holding his hands up in the air.

My eyes scanned his body for any signs of injury and when I found none, I relaxed slightly into the car. “You kill it?” Sam asked, dumping the medical supplied back into their spot in the trunk.

Dean nodded sharply. “Yup. Damn thing tried to run.”

As I was watching him walk closer to us, I noticed another body walking out from the same area of the woods. “Sam?” I took the few steps closer to the youngest Winchester, my eyes flashing between both bodies. The two of us pulled our guns and raised them in the air, alerting both Deans to the weapons.

“Stop where you are.” Sam called. My hands shook as I stared between the two bodies that resembled the man I love.

“Dean?” My voice was shaky. My gun was trained on one and Sam had his on the other, both of us doing everything in our power to make sure we killed the right Dean.

“Sammy.” The Dean that Sam covered said. “Sammy, put the gun down.”

“Are you crazy? Kill him!” The Dean in front of me yelled.

“Shut up!” I shouted over the both of them as they began to argue. “Stop.” My eyes continued to search both bodies to find something to tell me they were real. Just as I was about to give up, I noticed the small band of silver wrapped around the left ring finger of the Dean in front of me. Doing a double check of the other body, and finding no ring, I shot off a round into the body Sam was watching.

“Wha-no!” Sam lunged forward.

I took a few deep breaths just as strong arms wrapped around me. “You’re safe.” Dean leaned his head on my shoulder and hugged me tightly. “I’m here.”

“Dean?” My voice was soft and scared as I clung to his body with the little energy I had left. “Thank god.”

“How did you know?” Sam asked, joining our sides.

I simply grabbed Dean’s left hand and held it up, showing Sam the simple band of silver. “Shifters can’t touch silver.”

@thetallassgirl @hallecarey1

[3d-wifey]

And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 6

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 5k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! A/N: I went with the chariot outfit from the books. If there's ever any confusion about something being described that doesn't match the movies, it's because I mixed it with the books :))))))) I feel like this chapter really hammers home the fact that Hozier inspired this fic. And while I have your attention, Finnick says the word too instead of to later on in this chapter because he means also. Just for those of you who don't know the different meanings of the word.

Past (vi) - Finnick

[18 & 19] -  THE CAPITOL; TRAINING CENTER; ELEVENTH FLOOR

You and Finnick are sitting side by side when they flood the arena.

An earthquake breaks the dam open, and the tributes closest to it die almost instantly, the crushing weight of the water pressure either breaking their necks or knocking them out before they drown. Multiple canons fire one after the other. If Finnick counted correctly, only six tributes are left—five of which aren't from districts with large bodies of water. It’ll only be a matter of time before they tire out. 

He's not hoping that the other kids die, but he is hoping that Annie makes it. She's a sweet girl, and she actually took his advice to heart, unlike his other tributes, who usually didn't take him seriously because of his age. 

He feels a smaller hand slip into his and he doesn’t have to look down to know it's yours. Your tributes had died in the cornucopia and it’s been ten days since then. You had no reason to stay behind. But you did. For him.

You squeeze his hand. He squeezes back.

Once the waters have calmed and the rest of the tributes strive to stay afloat, Annie does the smart thing and moves to float on her back. 

Of course, in a test of endurance, she's the strongest swimmer in the arena. In District Four, kids learn how to backstroke before they can walk. However, there’s no telling how long they’ll be in the water, and trying to tread it will only drain what little stamina she has left.

It takes three hours for three of the tributes to die and five for Finnick to have his first victor.

Socialites and mentors alike surround you and Finnick to congratulate him as they airlift Annie out of the arena. Augustus claps him on the shoulder, and Gloss shakes his hand. But the only hand he cares about slips out of his when four different people try to rope him into a conversation at once, your bracelet catching against his.

You say nothing to him as you edge out of the crowd, and he supposes you don’t owe him an explanation, but it leaves a pit in his stomach to watch you walk away.

When he comes to the Eleventh floor later that night, Chaff is the one who greets him when the elevator opens, presumably heading out himself. Something he should have expected since you aren’t the only one who lives on the floor, but he’s still taken by surprise.

“Oh. Hey?” It comes out as more of a question than a statement, the letters curling and drawing out at the end like he’s just discovered the human language.

“You’re acting like I’m not the face you wanted to see.” Chaff crosses his arms with a beaming grin that spells trouble for Finnick. “What? Am I not pretty enough, Odair?” 

“No, you’re plenty beautiful, Chaff,” he laughs, “I was just expecting Star.”

“Yeah, alright. Go ahead.” He steps aside, and Finnick feels like he got caught sneaking into his girlfriend's room. Which isn’t too far off. “I’m sure you know where her room is.” He decides to pointedly ignore that last comment.

He spots Seeder dishing out playing cards and Haymitch drinking at the dining table, and he just knows this will spread like wildfire among the victors. Despite being grown men, Chaff and Haymitch are the biggest gossips he knows.

“Ah, there’s the blushing bride!” Haymitch half shouts—half cackles, halfway into a bottle of expensive Capitol wine. He ignores them, which only makes them crack up harder. Finnick is nineteen years old, and as they laugh behind him, he actually feels his age for once.

He’s come to your floor for the past two years. So when your door slides open, you only look slightly surprised to see him. 

“Finnick,” you look over his shoulder like you expected him to bring someone with him. “I didn’t think you’d come. I thought you’d be spending time with Annie.” You venture tiredly.

“I spoke to her after they got her into medic, but not for long.”

After Talon, his other tribute, was decapitated in front of her, something happened. Something broke. She cried uncontrollably and screamed when the nurses tried to take her vitals. He was able to help calm her down enough for them to sedate her, but Finnick knows that isn’t going to be an easy fix. No victor comes out of their games the same as when they entered.

You take a step back from him. He didn’t even notice when he got so close and gravitated to you; he never does.

“Well. Thanks for letting me know, I guess. You can go now.”

He stands there, mouth opening and closing.

“Go..." he blinks, furrows his brows, and then blinks again. "I can go—are you mad at me?” He asks incredulously.

"No!" You deny it like the idea of being mad at him never even crossed your mind, yet he can't help but feel like he’s upset you somehow. 

"Are you...sad at me?" You hesitate at that, and his heart sinks. You sigh, and for a second, he worries you’re going to send him away.

"C’mon." You wave him into your room. “I’d rather not have an audience for this.” He glances over his shoulder and spots the three adults in the room clearly eavesdropping as they pretend to play cards at the table.

“Leave the door cracked!” You flip off the cackling trio, herding Finnick into your room, and you barely get the door closed before he’s apologizing.

“I don’t know what I did, Star, but I’m sorry, okay? And—and whatever it is, sweetheart, I swear I won’t do it again.” He pleads, feeling just as desperate as he probably sounds. He’s trailing pretty close after you through the hallway that curves into your bedroom, so he almost bumps into you when suddenly you stop in front of him.

“Finnick, calm down, okay? You didn’t do anything.” You claim, but if that’s true, then—

“I don’t understand. Wh–what’s wrong?” Because there’s definitely something wrong. Your body language is closed off. You’re never closed off around him.

You cross your arms, then drop them and place your hands on your hips. 

“Annie.” You mutter, staring over his shoulder.

“...Annie?” He repeats, eyebrows furrowing.

“Yeah.” You speak muffled, biting at the nail of your thumb. “I’ve been thinking and I can only imagine how exciting it is for you to have someone your age in Four who’s gone through the same things as you. You guys have much more in common, I’m sure. Not to mention you can see each other whenever you want. So, I won’t fault you for, I don’t know, spending less time with me. Or, if you forget to respond to a letter or…something.” You finish off your rambling in a mumble, losing steam.

He blinks at you.

“And why would I do that?” He asks, and you throw your arms up in frustration, walking further into the room to crash down into a forest green armchair. What is he doing wrong?

“Because we don’t see each other outside of the Capitol.” You avoid making eye contact and pick at the skin around your nails instead of biting them, a habit he thought you grew out of. “And I’m fine with that, but that doesn’t mean you have to be. You don’t have to settle for...this.” You wave a vague hand around, either referring to your room, yourself, or your relationship. All of which Finnick finds unacceptable for you to put down. 

“Do you feel like you’re settling?” He asks, doing, in his opinion, a pretty good job of acting like his heart isn’t hinging on your answer.

“What? Of course not.” You look at him like he grew a second head. As if his question isn't completely reasonable given how you're behaving. “But, we just... We have such little time together.”

“Yeah, and that makes the time we do get to spend together special.” He argues. Finnick tracks your movements, coming to stand before you. You clench your fists together before hiding them by folding your arms. “What is this really about?”

You take a breath.

"Finnick, we can never be together outside of this city.” You laugh, hollow and brittle. Beautiful. “With Annie in the picture, you can have something close to normal. You’ve earned that much.” He takes a second to look you over. Finnick has always been able to pick things up through body language. A skill he developed after Mags lost the ability to speak, and even that took him years to perfect. With you, someone who is practically mute when it comes to your emotions, it was almost instantaneous. He can read you like a well-loved book.

"Will you look at me?" He ducks his head down to get you to look at him, but you're being especially avoidant. 

"I’m sorry, it's really not that serious." You mumble, stubbornly keeping your eyes on the ground, "You don't need to—” He places his hand on the back of your neck, bending over to touch his forehead to yours. 

"There you are." He smiles when you finally look up at him. He holds you tighter, free hand sliding down to your waist and his neck straining at the position. "I'm not gonna leave you behind for Annie, okay—I would never leave you behind. For anyone." And he would appreciate you not taking that choice from him. There's already so little he has control over in his life, and, knowing you, it wouldn't be a reach for you to cut him off without explanation if you thought it was for his benefit. 

"Why?" You ask barely above a whisper, confusion so genuine that it nearly breaks his heart. As if you can't wrap your head around Finnick wanting to stay with you, choosing you. He’s failed you somewhere along the way if that’s the case.

He takes a different approach, dropping down to one knee on the cold brown marble floor and then the other until he’s kneeling between your legs, giving his neck a break. The big green chair becomes the backdrop behind you, and it really is an enormous chair.

“Finnick,” you laugh, as dulcet as a melody. “What are you doing?” 

“I don’t want normal. I want you. That’s all I ever wanted.” He grins up at you, wrapping his arms around your stomach. "I'll stop needing air before I stop needing you.” He could spend the rest of his life being the most altruistic bastard in Panem and still not deserve you.

You loop your arms around his neck, fingers carding through the back of his hair. He leans into the warmth of your hand and wonders if there will ever be a moment better than this. There’s always been a level of affection between the two of you that's a little too intimate to call friendship, but Finnick’s grown so accustomed to it that he'd feel unsettled without it.

You lean closer to him, practically sitting on the edge of your seat. "Can I…” You hesitate. “Can I try something?" You ask and he agrees like he always will. He can deny you nothing. 

You move one hand to his cheek. The other grips his shirt as you lean toward him. He holds still—barely breathing, afraid that any sudden movement will make you lose your nerve. 

You run cold, you always have, it’s just another thing to love as far as Finnick is concerned. He himself emits heat like a furnace on the best of days.

He remembers cold hands touching his heated skin, cold toes shocking the skin of his legs whenever you lay together. But now, now Finnick feels nothing but a hissing heat as your mouths press together. Heat like a hot knife cutting into a block of ice, like a blazing star consuming him in a ball of fire, only to sizzle into a warm embrace. He melts into you, trusting that you’ll sculpt him back together with your glacial grip.

And you will, won’t you? Take him into your arms and mold him into whatever shape he needs to be to fit inside your heart. He’s had no experience with that sort of thing. He’s never had to, his heart automatically made room for you without any input on his part. There’s a perfect you-shaped hole in his chest, and you’ve already slotted into place. When you hold him like this, kiss him like this, he can believe it. Believe that maybe, maybe this is something you’ve been hoping for too—that you aren't only doing this because it's what you think he wants and that he hasn’t been alone in his longing.

Your lips are soft, softer than he imagined. You’re softer than he imagined. It’s more of a peck than anything else, but it means everything to Finnick. You stop to take a breath, and he moves to follow you as you pull away. He doesn't open his eyes for a second. If it never happens again, if he never has the chance to kiss you again, he wants to commit this moment to memory. Every detail, down to the puff of air against his lips before you leaned in.

Finnick is well aware of the effect he has on people; he’s had five years to come to terms with it. But he’s never been on the receiving end of it before. It’s all new to him—new and utterly terrifying. Terrifying and utterly beautiful because it’s you. It's always been you, and it’ll keep being you even if this ends here.

"What was that?" he asks, just in case he’s reading this wrong and you aren’t looking at the kiss the way he is, in case you’re not looking at him like he looks at you.

"...I don't know." You whisper like it’s a secret shared between you two.

"Okay," he exhales between you. He can work with that. Finnick shakes his head. “I don’t need more than that.” He smiles. He’ll give himself to you in whatever capacity you’ll have him, as long as you’ll have him. He doesn’t have the right to ask for more.

“I think,” you start, dazed, and he can’t tamp down the smug satisfaction bubbling up because he did that to you, “I've wanted to do that for a long time." 

He considers it. He's wanted to kiss you since that first night under the stars. When you allowed yourself to be vulnerable—sharing a piece of yourself with him—and you looked at him with a smile that was more genuine than he deserved, too good to be aimed at someone like him. “So why haven’t you?” 

You sway into him like you can’t help yourself, and he gets the feeling. You rest your forehead on his shoulder.

“I…I’ve never had anything I've wanted before—I’ve never taken it, but,” you burrow your face into his neck, and he can feel your lashes fluttering against his skin as you squeeze your eyes shut, and he doesn't like that. He doesn't like not having your gaze on him. When did that happen? Under his nose, he's become so needy for your attention, so needy for you. There should certainly be some shame there. “But I want this more than I’ve wanted anything, Finnick. I want you.”

“Then take me. Have me." He begs into the crown of your hair, sounding so desperate he’s surprised you haven’t run the other way. But, honestly, he isn’t sure he wouldn’t chase after you. He's been yours in everything but name for years at this point. It’s just one more leap, one more line to cross together because Finnick wants too. He wants and wants and wants. He wants to be yours.

"It's selfish. To want this much, right?" You pull him closer to you, and he goes. He can't imagine doing anything else. You nose at his jaw, and he shivers at the brush of smooth lips and warm breath on the sensitive skin of his neck. He moves his head to the side to give you more room. "It has to be."

"I like you selfish." If this is you selfish, he wants you greedy; he wants you heedless. He wants your want. He closes his eyes, every other sense focused on you. He holds you closer. “I know it’s hard to love me—” 

“Don’t say that. Don’t think my hesitation has anything to do with who you are. It’s just…” You pull back far enough to look up at him, your eyes darting back and forth between his, and he thinks he understands what you’re asking for. 

You’re scared, so you want him to make the choice. You want it to be his decision. He’s scared, too, so he understands. He’ll take the plunge and bear the brunt of the fall. There’s not much he can protect you from, but he can do this. He can protect you from himself.

This time, he's the one who leans in, and you meet him halfway. On instinct, he goes to grab your waist and stops himself. Instead, he grabs the hand gripping his shirt, lacing your fingers with his. 

Finnick's never prayed for anything; he doesn't even believe in a higher power. Yet, selfishly, he begs. Let this be real. Let him keep this one thing. 

Let him keep you. 

Present (VI) - You

[23 & 24 ] - THE CAPITOL; CHARIOT RIDES

You stand alone in the elevator, skin bristling with the phantom feeling of scrubbing. If your prep team had scrubbed any harder, you're sure your skin would have come off. You rub at the now smooth skin of your face, trying to soothe the lingering sting from the waxing.

The Capitol has many demeaning traditions, but there’s nothing more performative than the Chariot rides. There’s nothing quite like being paraded before crowds of adoring fans while dressed in a caricature of your district.

The elevator slows down as you get closer and closer to the ground. It raises your hackles like a cat being lowered into water. Water that’s full of bloodthirsty sharks that have already gotten a taste of you and are coming back for seconds.

When the doors slide open, the breeze nips at your bare skin. Victors, stylists, and horse handlers alike mill around as the chariots get set up. You spot Chaff and Seeder conversing by the horses, and you see Johanna, dressed as what looks like a tree, having a very heated argument with her stylists. You choose the safer option.

“Of course, I’m the only one dressed provocatively,” you say as you approach them. “And here I was hoping you’d finally be showing some skin, Chaff.” You joke, but you really wish you were at least given some kind of underwear. It’s not exactly warm in here and that draft is reaching places it shouldn’t.

You scratch at the pins holding the wreath of purple petunias in your hair; they’re digging into your scalp. Two purple maple leaves cover your breasts, held on with nothing but liquid adhesive. You weren’t so sure about the coverage, but it’s not like you have any sway over what you wear. Vines and palm leaves of different lengths are tied low around your waist as a skirt and not very modestly. If you make any sharp movements, you’ll be flashing your ass to all of Panem.

It’s a drastic change from your last chariot outfit. At the time, your stylist insisted you be portrayed as coquettish. Someone people will sympathize with and root for as an underdog. That innocent little girl act has followed you for the past eight years. Until today, of course. The assets on display will certainly convince the Capitol elites that you’re a woman worth sponsoring, not that your clients need the reminder.

“What, you wanna switch?” He laughs.

“Oh, I’d love to, but I don’t think these leaves will be big enough for you.” Seeder ‘ooh’s as you pat one of the steeds on its flank. The only horses you're used to seeing are the ones bred for farming—hulking beasts genetically modified to only do one job. But these particular horses get to live a life of luxury as long as they serve the Capitol.

“I guess we aren’t that different, huh, girl?” She neighs at you and you take it as a ‘yes’.

“The company you’re keeping must be horrible if you’ve resorted to talking to horses,” Haymitch says as he approaches.

“I hope you’re including yourself.” Seeder teases.

“Ha, ha. I’ve gathered everyone that’ll ally with Katniss and Peeta.” He makes to lean against the horse but thinks better of it when she scuffs one of her hooves on the ground rather threateningly. “Districts Three, Four, Six, Seven, Eight, and, of course, Eleven. More than I thought we’d get, honestly.” So, that’s it then. Those are all the people who are willing to put their lives on the line for something bigger than themselves. That leaves five districts out, and if it comes down to it, ten people you’ll have to kill. 

It’s suddenly become very real.

“There’s plenty to plan and discuss, but in the meantime, how about you,” he grabs you by the shoulders and turns you toward the last chariot in the line, “go and make a good first impression.”

“How’d you describe me?” What face are you putting forward? There’s a certain way you’ll be expected to act while you’re here, so you can’t deviate too far from that shy naivety.

“If you must know, I told them you have a lot of influence and that you’d be a very good ally. Gives you a bit of creative freedom. Now, go play nice.” You stumble a little when he nudges you forward. You glare over your shoulder, and he holds two thumbs up.

Nothing he said was a lie. Whether you want to admit it or not, you do have an uncanny ability for persuasion. You like to believe it’s because you’re eloquent, but you can acknowledge people are far more likely to believe something when it comes from a pretty face.

"I've been meaning to speak to you,” you settle beside Katniss. You smile up at the horse, reaching up to pet her, "I’m sorry I missed your Victory Tour celebration." You lie. You had just finished dealing with a client at the time, so Snow, in a rare act of mercy, allowed you to skip the event.

"Everyone wants to speak to us." She remarks sorely.

"I remember what that’s like," you chuckle, feeling the horse's silky, black mane. You certainly don’t miss being the shiny new toy. There was always someone asking your opinion on benign subjects, always someone making up excuses to talk to you. It was exhausting when you were fifteen, and it’s still exhausting now. "I’m sure you’ve got plenty to say."

“Nothing I should say.”

“You can start with everything you’re grateful for. They love feeling like they’ve done charity work.” The number of interviews you’ve had to do where you practically kissed the Capitol’s ass for ‘saving you from the squalor of District Eleven’ will always leave a bad taste in your mouth.

“Well, that’ll be a very short conversation with an even shorter list.” She says, just as monotone as she is in her interviews.

“It doesn’t hurt to embellish sometimes.”

“I’m sure you do enough of that for the both of us.” You cock your jaw at the jab. You smile around it until you realize something. You might be a little biased here, but if she thinks she’s had the worst of it, then that ignorance isn’t as much of an act as you thought.

"...You have no idea how lucky you are." You frame it not as a question but as a statement. A revelation that’s just revealed itself to you.

"And how's that?" She turns to you, skepticism evident. You pause and stare at her. There's plenty you can say. Namely, the fact that she was saved from a world of hurt by that star-crossed lovers bullshit. Or the immunity her family has because the Capitol can’t seem to get enough of them. All of that can be flipped into you criticizing the Capitol by the right mouth, so you refrain.

"Well," you sigh and conjure up something that won't flag anyone's attention. "For starters, you've never had to be a mentor." 

She hesitates before asking, mask slipping for a second, "Rue?" 

You nod. "She was one of mine." She was the youngest you had ever mentored. 

She and you both knew she wouldn't survive on the ground. You and Thresh told her to stay high in the trees, and you gathered as many sponsors as you could for them. 

"The trees were her best bet at staying alive. I don't know how many times I told her that." You scoff and shake your head. She was nimble and fast, as most children from Eleven are. They’re forced to climb high in trees to get fruit, and being malnourished only makes them lighter. No one would have been able to chase her. And you knew there wasn't a chance in hell of her winning, but you still had hope, despite yourself, "and, for all intents and purposes, she never would have come down—if it weren't for you." 

Despite what it sounds like, you're not trying to place any blame on Katniss. She wasn't responsible for Rue's actions. She didn't make her come down and help. That was all on Rue and how selflessly compassionate she was. 

You are, however, trying to make her understand the role she's played in all this.

"And Thresh..." You trail off. You don't know what to say. If he hadn't been reaped, he would have been forced to do more backbreaking labor. But he would have been alive. 

It’s a complicated dilemma. Knowing that if the kid won, they'd never be the same. And there was always the possibility that they'd be thrusted into the kind of life that you were forced to live. And if they lost, then they were another bright star snuffed out of the night sky. 

It's nearly impossible not to get attached to the tributes, especially in Eleven, where you truly only have each other. 

There's no good answer, just a shitty position to be in. 

"It hurts each time you lose a tribute. But those two—I don't know. I guess they were a reminder of how…human these kids really are." You shrug and hold her gaze. "How human we are." She takes a second to absorb your words. Can she hear what you’re not saying?

My humanity, thousands of people���s humanity, you think, was kickstarted by you. Take responsibility.

"Thresh—he saved me. He probably would have won if he hadn't." 

"He did save you; they both did. It may have been unintentional, but they gave their lives for you," and with the way things are looking, they won’t be the last. "What will you do with the sacrifices they made?"

The question sits between the two of you. It’s one you’ve been asking yourself since talking with Haymitch. You wonder if your answers will be similar.

"Katniss!" Katniss turns towards the sound of her name, and what do you do? You keep facing the horse. 

Finnick.

If you went deaf, you'd recognize his voice just from the vibrations it sent through your bones. You never thought about what you would do when you saw him again. How you would react, how you would get through it. It's a grave oversight on your part because he's getting closer, and your heartbeat is in your tongue. 

You glance to the side and immediately regret it.

Your eyes trail from his brown gladiator sandals up his bare, tan legs to…netting. There’s a fishnet draped across his torso and knotted low around his hips, similar to how your skirt is tied. It’s very thin, with very spacious holes.

“Star.” You wince at the nickname. You drag your eyes away from his chest and look up to sea green. He’s just as beautiful as you remember him, just as magnetic. There’s something in his gaze, something complex, and it’s more than you can handle. It was always more than you could handle.

"Finnick," you nod, far more composed than you feel. Your tongue will always remember the shape of his name, but you’ve forgotten the taste of it. It’s bittersweet.

His eyes sweep over you at a snail's pace, and you feel him take in your curves and bare skin like phantom hands.

“Stunning as always, Star.” He compliments you just like he used to in that voice that isn’t meant for company. Not that he ever cared about that before.

You war between the urges to cross your arms over your chest and to preen under his stare like a peacock. Briefly, you’re reminded of the way some plants will shift to face the sun whenever it moves.

Katniss looks between you both. Probably taking into account the way you simultaneously wilt and bask under Finnick’s gaze and the way Finnick has yet to look away from you. You two were never subtle, and apparently, that hasn’t changed.

“I take it you two know each other?”

“We’re victors.” You sigh. “We all know each other.” He opens his mouth, but you cut in before he can say anything. Just saying your name—your nickname—was already devastating. He says one syllable, and it shakes your foundations.

You turn back to Katniss, taking the opportunity to look at anything but him. "Good luck, Katniss. Congrats on the engagement." You rush out, but it can be blamed on you being ‘shy’. You pat the horse on her flank one last time before marching to your carriage, and the blue bracelet wrapped around your ankle feels especially tight. 

You did better than you thought you would. You didn’t beg him for an explanation like you’ve wanted to since you read his letter. You’ve still got that. You still have your dignity.

You can feel his eyes on your bare back, but he doesn't call after you. Not that you expect him to. There was a time when you could predict Finnick's next move, where you could walk away and know he'd be right behind you. But now you walk away and pretend like each step isn't killing you, wound still as fresh as it was when he left you with no hand to staunch the bleeding. 

Like there isn't a box under your bed in Eleven with hundreds of sand-colored envelopes and a blue handkerchief that smells like the sea.

A/N: You 🤝 Katniss = unreliable narrators Peeta 🤝 Finnick = Longing for an emotionally constipated woman

[call-me-little-sunshine84]

Slow Heat

SSA Matt Simmons x female reader

Rating: explicit - minors DNI

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: After wanting Matt for so long, what will you do when you finally get him?

Warnings: smut! - mentioned masturbation - oral sex (m receiving) - unprotected sex - multiple orgasms - canon divergence

A/N: this is set in an AU where he is divorced - there is a horrible lack of Matt smut and I don't think I would do justice to the husband/wife vibe but didn't want to make him a cheater

“Morning Matt,” you said cheerily as he entered the office. “Good morning,” he replied tersely, juggling his bag and a cup of coffee. He hadn’t been the same since telling everyone about the divorce. You couldn’t imagine what he was going through, trying to get used to his new reality, and learning to coparent with that many kids. 

A small, awful part of you was secretly glad he was getting divorced. It made the way you felt about him, and had felt ever since you met, a little more acceptable. Married man = giant no in your book. Divorced man = okay to fantasize about, which you did more often than was probably normal. There was also the small fact that you worked together. Sure, you worked in tech, it’s not like you went out in the field with the team, but they still treated you like one of their own - probably thanks to your friendship with Garcia. Office romances hardly ever worked out. Still…you couldn’t help but watch him every time he walked past, your heart skipping a beat when he smiled at you. 

Wanting to be respectful to what he was going through, you kept all your feelings to yourself. It was so hard when all you wanted to do was spend one night with him, showing him how eager you were to please him. Instead, you just ended up pleasing yourself while thinking about what he must look like underneath his clothes. It went on like that for months, you lusting after him from the sidelines, until one night after a particularly bad case.

The team had returned to the office, looks of defeat and anger plainly written on their faces. You just happened to still be there, finishing up a last-minute assignment. Your heart sank when you looked up at them getting off the elevator. “Oh no, what happened?” you asked, concerned. “The perp got away,” Rossi replied, shaking his head. “Damn, I’m sorry,” you said sincerely. “We’re going to go get a drink, need to shake this off. Do you want to join us?” he asked. “Sure, why not,” you replied, happy for the break. You were stiff and sore from sitting in a chair all day. 

Everyone grabbed their things, and you walked around the block to the nearby tavern. Thanks to Penelope switching seats with you - after a less than subtle wink and shoulder nudge - you ended up sitting next to Matt. At first you were extremely nervous, but you were surprised to find that talking to him came easily. The conversation stayed steady, both of you talking about your families, hobbies, favorite movies, everything. The others slowly began to say their goodbyes, and before long you realized it was just the two of you left. 

“Oh wow, I guess I need to get back home,” you said, looking at the time on your phone. “I’ll go with you, make sure you get there okay,” Matt offered with a smile. “You really don’t have to, it’s not like either of us drank that much,” you replied. And it was true, you switched to coke after a few shots, and he had been sipping the same beer all night. “Really, I insist,” he told you. Pretty sure that your face had turned several unflattering shades of red, you relented, grabbing your purse. The walk back to the office to get his car as well as the ride back to your apartment, were filled with awkward silence. What happened to the way you had been at the bar?

Pulling into the parking lot, he offered to walk you to the door. You took him up on it, not knowing what would come next. Standing at your doorway, you looked at him, wishing the night wasn’t over. “Want to come in for some coffee?” you asked, holding your breath until he replied. “Sure,” he said, and you unlocked your door with trembling hands. Throwing your bag down on the counter, you picked up two coffee mugs and were about to begin making the first one when Matt walked up behind you. 

Standing so close you could feel the heat coming off of his body, smell the cologne he was wearing, you resisted the urge to lean back against him. Instead, you stiffened, unsure of what to do or say. Suddenly you felt his hands on your hips, turning you around to face him. Looking up at him questioningly, his face so close to yours, you gasped as he ran his hand gently across your jawline, sending sparks through your body. “Matt, what are you doing?” you ask breathlessly, your body on edge just from that little bit of contact. Instead of answering, he leaned down and kissed you slowly and sweetly. “I think we could both use this, don’t you?” he asked, moving his body even closer to you. It was true, it had been a long time since anything but your vibrator had brought you to paradise.

“If you had any idea of how many times I had fantasized about this, you wouldn’t even have to ask,” you replied in a surprising burst of boldness. Never in your wildest dreams did you think any of this would actually be happening. He growled at your response and moved in to kiss you again, this time fast and hard. His hands roamed your body slowly in contrast, exploring every inch of you. 

Dragging him into your bedroom, you pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the floor. Holy shit you thought, running your hands over his muscled abs, practically drooling at the sight of him. Pushing him back onto the bed, you undid his belt and removed his pants. He was already hard, and just the outline of him straining against his boxers had you practically dripping. You kissed and licked a slow trail down his perfect body, working your way down to what you wanted most. Your eyes widened when you freed his dick from his underwear and the smirk on his face made you want to climb on him right that second, but you somehow controlled yourself, deciding to make this last as long as possible. 

Taking him in your mouth, you flattened your tongue and ran it up and down his shaft while sucking gently, and he groaned deeply in appreciation. One hand around his base and the other gripping his muscular thigh, you worked your magic on him, bringing him right to the edge before he pushed you back, not wanting to finish too soon. 

Eagerly shedding your clothes, you rejoined him on the bed. He wrapped his arms around you, kissing your neck, raising goosebumps all over. Going lower, he cupped your breasts, wrapping his lips around one hardened nipple while gently massaging the other. Moaning, feeling like your body would ignite at any moment, you almost jumped off the bed when he reached a hand down and ran his fingers through your slick folds. 

“Damn, you really did want this, didn’t you?” he grinned, feeling just how excited you were for him. All you could do was groan his name as he dragged his fingers through your walls, hitting that sweet spot that you always had trouble finding yourself. Two fingers worked inside you while his thumb made sweet circles on your clit. You looked up at him, his already dark eyes almost black, clouded with lust. It was enough, just knowing you were the cause of that look of absolute desire on his face, to push you over the edge. You climaxed, thighs trembling against his hand. 

Giving yourself no time to ride out your high, you pushed him back against the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs. “Oh my God,” he grunted, a look of absolute devotion on his face as you lowered yourself down onto him slowly. 

The stretch and slight burn went away quickly as you adjusted to his size, and you found a steady pace. He gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, and you ground down on him eagerly. Who knew sex could feel this good you thought to yourself. After all the months of longing for Matt, this was actually happening. He moved his hands up to grasp your breasts, bringing you back to reality. You rolled your hips even harder and faster, that invisible coil in your belly growing tighter, threatening to snap again. Your nails digging crescent shaped marks into his chest, you felt your second orgasm sweep through you. Squeezing down around him as you continued to ride him, Matt groaned your name as he also found release. Collapsing against him on the bed, your sweat slicked bodies sticking together, you sighed contentedly. Slowly tracing the tattoo on his bicep, he asked if you were okay. “Of course. I told you; I’ve wanted that for a long time now,” you replied. He cocked an eyebrow. “Really?” 

“You know, for a profiler you really missed all the signs, didn’t you?” you said with a laugh.

[peonierose]

Losing Game (3/4)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Rating: Mature / Angst

TW: Mental Health

Words: 3,000+

Summary: Bryce visited his dad in prison and now he and Luna are oceans apart, but after a scare during his surgery he can only think of one person to call.

A/N: In case you missed the parts before here they are: Part 1, Part 2

2nd A/N: I went a bit off canon with Bryce and what happened with his parents, just as an fyi. Also thank you for everyone for reading this story and giving it a chance 🩷

Side note: I also made a playlist for Part 3, the previous two parts include a playlist as well.

Maui, Hawaii 

A few years ago…

Bryce

I sang along to some song playing on the radio, still pumped from a round of basketball with my friends. I kicked Kainalu‘s ass and ran laps around him. I still can’t believe I beat him this time around, he cursed throughout the game. But it was just a game between friends.

When I turned the corner to our house I saw blue flashing lights, alerting me that something was wrong. I put the car in park and slammed the door as I got out.

Did something happen? This is a pretty safe neighborhood. My parents made sure we had the best-equipped security system around. The best money could buy.

Several cop cars have pulled up in front of our driveway. I saw two police officers escorting my dad into a police car. My eyebrows rose high. Not able to make sense of this whole situation and what is unraveling right in front of my eyes.

I ran towards the entrance of our house where officers were carrying out some of our things. Such as computers, laptops, phones, everything, and putting them into evidence bags. I kept staring as if this was a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

When I wanted to enter our house an officer stopped me.

”You can’t get inside.“

”What do you mean I can’t get inside? I live here.“ I replied, with a sharpness I reserved for people who get on my nerves.

”Please Officer, that’s my son.“ My mom‘s voice came from the entrance. The officer looked me up and down and finally, after what felt like hours passed, he nodded and let me enter.

”Alright. He can enter. But don’t touch anything.“ He called out after me.

I got inside and my mom pulled me to the side.

”Let’s go to the kitchen.“ I followed my mom as if I were in a trance. My body moved, but my mind was somewhere else.

The questions kept circling in my head like hungry vultures ”What the fuck is going on here? Why are there cops in our home? Why did Dad get arrested? What did my parents get themselves into?“

I whirled on my mom, but she put her forefinger on her lips telling me with her eyes not to ask any questions that were burning on my tongue. Then she hugged me and whispered into my ear.

”Listen carefully, we don’t have much time. There’s a small bag in your sister's closet. Take it and get her out of here. There’s enough money that should last you for a while. Since I’m sure they froze all of our accounts.“

I wanted to break off the hug and look at my mom. But she held on tight.

”But…“

”Do as I say ku’uipo. Know that your father and I love you. Take care of your little sister until we figure things out. You hear me?“ My mom hissed. I nodded slightly. ”Good.“

We broke off the embrace and it’s as if I’m seeing a different mom. Not one who kissed my bruised knee when I fell from my bike as a seven-year-old, or who sang me Hawaiian songs when I had the flu.

She put her hand on my cheek as if she sought comfort from me. She kissed my cheek and a feeling of dread settled in my stomach. I let out a breath I’ve been holding in.

After a few seconds, I went upstairs. Before heading up, I took another look at my mom, tired lines had etched themselves into her bronze skin. I turned around, taking one last close look at her before I climbed the stairs leading to our bedrooms.

As I went up I looked for the bag my mom mentioned. Though Keiki is nowhere in sight. I sprinted to the closet and when I opened it I whistled when I saw all the cash, fake IDs, and passports inside the bag. Whatever they did, they must’ve had a backup plan.

I recognized a fake ID when I saw one. I used one to get into clubs and bars while still underage. This isn’t a simple bag, this is a run-for-the-hills, get-out-of-town for a while kind of bag.

I replaced the bag my mom prepared with my gym bag that was slung over my shoulder a few minutes ago. Making sure no one saw me swap the bags I went outside and looked for my sister.

”Kei-Kei?“ I went to my room, and there she was. Hugging her green sea turtle to her chest. I gave it to her last Christmas.

She was sitting on my bed. Scared to death if her tear-streaked face was any indication. Her dark brown hair was held in a ponytail by a pink elastic. I kneeled next to her.

”Keiks? Come on, let's go.“

She looked at me and I took her little hand into mine. Her hands were shaking and I covered them with mine to lend her some strength.

”Go where? I’m so scared.“ Her big brown eyes, so much like my own, were full of more unshed tears.

”I know you are scared. But I’ve got you Kei-Kei.“ When she hesitated I smiled and squeezed her hand.

”I’m scared too, Keiks. But why don’t we go to a safer place? Hmm?“

”Today is my birthday, Bry. Are we going to celebrate with mom and dad?“ She asked, looking up at me.

I closed my eyes. Shit. It’s her birthday. How do you explain this shit show to your six-year-old sister?

”We‘ll go to some friend's house for a few days. You and I will celebrate with some cake and ice cream. Mom and Dad will join us when they can, okay?“

”Okay. But I want a big cake. With mango flavor.“ She said excitedly.

”You got it Kei-Kei.“ I said and smiled at her. When she saw me smiling at her she smiled back, nodded, and wiped her tears away.

I put the bag over my shoulder and hoisted Keiki up, carrying her downstairs. She clung to me and I winked at her which made her smile. Officers were still taking everything and bagging it as evidence.

Damn what the hell happened? I’ll have to ask my parents another time. First I needed to make sure Keiki was alright.

Though from the looks of it, our lives would inevitably change forever.

Honolulu, Hawaii’

Present Day…

Bryce

With a start my eyes snapped wide open, looking left and right, seeing familiar surroundings, making me relax in bed. I reached for my glass of water on the white nightstand next to me, since my throat was all dried up.

I haven’t had memories resurface like this in a long time. Moments from when my parents were arrested. I’ve always wanted the memories gone and I’ve suppressed them. Guess they’re coming back in full force now.

I rubbed my tired eyes. When I turned my head I saw that Luna's side of the bed was rumpled. Though her side was empty.

I didn’t have to be at work until later in the afternoon. As I turned my head I looked at the clock at my bedside. The green numbers said 7.35 am and I just wanted to stay in bed all day, but I knew I’ve got to get my shit together and get out of bed. No matter how hard it is.

I rubbed my eyes again and got out of bed. I went into the bathroom to take a cold shower. Maybe that’ll wake me up.

15 minutes later I was dressed and ready to face the day. The first thing I noticed as I got downstairs was that the kitchen was empty except for Keiki and Evie sitting at the kitchen table talking in hushed tones.

After the flashback I just had, it feels weird to see Keiki all grown up now. As if you fast-forwarded turning Keiki 23, instead of 6.

When I entered they stopped talking.

”Good morning,“ I walked towards the coffee machine to get some coffee. Starting the day without coffee? Impossible.

”Morning Bryce,“ Evie said while Keiki kept herself busy with Cheerios and some mango slices.

Looking at me, her eyes full of questions I don’t have the answer to. I put it aside to answer later. Because as of right now? I don’t know what to say. Honestly.

”You know an apple would be good for you. Instead of all that sugar, you eat all the time,“ I said pointing to the bowl in front of her.

”How about no? Also, I have some mango smartass.“ She said and stuck out her tongue at me.

I grinned.

”Real mature Keiks,“ I replied and sat down at the kitchen table, across from Evie. Keiki's phone chimed and she went upstairs to take the call.

Evie scooted closer.

”Is everything okay Bryce? Luna is usually up before you. She’s usually in the kitchen preparing breakfast or ordering in and singing around. You know, since you and making breakfast usually almost turns into having to call the fire department,“ she grinned but her green eyes turned serious within seconds.

I chuckled but the sound was more hollow than rich with joy.

”It’s complicated. Let’s leave it at that Eves,“ I said, not really in the mood to hash out what happened last week. Too restless to sit, I get up and just lean against the fridge.

Evie got up too and she squeezed my arm.

”I get it, this is between you and Luna. And you want to solve this on your own. I won’t pressure you for details. But Bryce? You’re one of my favorite guy friends, well make that the only one. So if you ever need to talk, or just get wasted? I’m your girl. You went through a lot. I can tell. So if there’s something you’d like to get off your chest I’m here. Don’t bottle it up. When you’re ready we’re all here. For you and Luna. You’re family okay? You’re not alone,“ she aimed a watery smile at me.

I nodded and hugged her, not able to say more than that. She gave me another hug and grabbed an apple from the fruit basket.

”At least one person in this house eats healthy,“ I said teasingly.

”I heard that,“ came Keiki's shout from upstairs.

”Good,“ I shouted back.

I do what I always do when everything gets too much. I go to Manoa Falls when I feel upset. It’s my and Luna’s favorite place in the world.

Sitting there on the moss-covered stones and hearing the rush of the waterfalls? It’s like you’re one with nature. That peacefulness? Food for the soul. When I get there I let the silence and chirping of birds envelop me and ground me. My phone chimes with a text, my heart sped up and I think it might be Luna, but it’s just a Spotify alert. Suggesting a new song to one of my playlists. I unlock my phone to see which song it is. It’s , which must be for Luna she loves Maddie & Tae. I sigh when I lock my phone again.

Only too soon do I have to get back because my shift is about to start.

I got dressed for work and before I was out the door I heard Keiki calling my name and I turned around keys in hand.

”Hey are you guys okay? I could tell Luna was upset about something,“ she asked gently.

I nodded.

”We’ll be okay again. We’re just going through a rough patch. It’s all going to work out,“ I said and kissed my sister on the forehead.

She nodded.

I walked out the door to get to work. Hopefully, work will distract me from my problems for now.

Later that day…

Aubrey got out of the OR. Her brown eyes blazing.

”What the fuck is wrong with you Lahela?“ She asked me.

I leaned on the wall. Trying to get a breath out. But all that came out was a wheezing sound rather than an actual breath.

She noticed I was not saying anything and must’ve seen my face. Pale as a ghost.

”Deep breaths Lahela. Come on. You got this. Deep breaths. In and out,“ she instructed me and I did as she said.

My hands started to tremble earlier during surgery. Again. What the fuck is going on?

I tore the surgical cap away and threw it onto the floor. Tearing at my longer hair. Not seeing where the cap landed and not really caring at this moment.

”Okay talk to me. What’s wrong?“

When my breathing was under control again I looked at Aubrey.

I was breathing slowly, still not able to talk to anyone.

”I had a fucking panic attack. That’s what’s wrong.“ I said a heartbeat later.

”Okay. Just breathe and relax. Just stay here, okay?“ She said and left to give me some space.

This happened before but I didn’t see it as a panic attack.

I thought I just had some anxiety left from the day before when I talked to a family who were seeking answers for a surgery I couldn’t perform because it was too risky.

What if complications occur? They will blame me for it.

It’s a pretty complicated surgery and I didn’t know how well they would handle any complications or repercussions I told them about.

I sighed again. I didn’t even realize that I pulled out my phone and dialed Luna’s number.

”Hey B, what’s wrong?“ She said and I could hear other people mutter in the background. She must be at the store or something.

”Can you come to the hospital? I know we’ve fought, but I really need you.“ I said quietly.

”Of course, I’ll be right there.“ She said. It‘s as if our fight was forgotten.

I don’t even know how I got to the locker room as I’m sitting on the cold, hard linoleum floor. My head is resting between my knees.

As I’m trying to get my breathing and my heart rate under control.

Breathing exercises didn’t cut it. But slowly my heartbeat normalized and I could breathe freely again.

I didn’t know if she’d even come if I called her. After our fight, everything seemed out of balance.

But Luna is the only person I wanted to see. I just wanted to feel her soft touch and smell her guava shampoo. Knowing she’s close and I can hug her when my anxiety is high? Deeply comforted me.

I was still sitting like that on the floor when I felt soft hands caressing the hair at the nape of my neck.

I shivered and when I turned around I saw Luna’s concerned face.

”What happened?“ She asked and opened her arms for me.

I hugged her because I needed her. For the first time in a week after our fight, I felt good again.

It’s as if I‘m a functioning human being, who’s been deprived of human touch for so long. However weird that sounded, it helped to hug her. That physical contact from the person I love is exactly what I needed.

We barely talked, just exchanged a few words here and there. But it’s not like it’s usually with us. Jabs and teasing here and there. Laughter and kisses.

I missed her. I didn’t know you could be in the same room with the person you love, yet feel so lonely. As if you’re miles apart.

She stroked my hair and just whispered some lyrics of a song to me. I think it was ”I Have a Dream by ABBA“.

”My hands started shaking and I panicked during surgery.“

”Oh B I‘m sorry that happened, but I think ever since you visited your dad you came back differently.“ She pointed out carefully as if she wasn’t sure what my reaction would be.

”Of course I did. There are way too many emotions eating me up right now. I just needed to sort them all out.“ I remarked.

”B please tell me what’s going on. Please, I don't know how to help you if you don’t tell me,“ Luna whispered.

”I feel lost. Lost and sad and I don’t know.“ I admitted. I broke down. I wrapped my arms around her as I cried silently and she held me close, showing me she was right here with me.

”I’ll give you anything you want Bryce. I love you so damn much. I’d even eat some oatmeal.“ She shivered involuntarily. The disgust of having to eat oatmeal was evident on her face. She hates it. I laughed through my tears. She pushed some strands of my hair that had gotten longer out of my face and I squeezed her hand.

”Would you be willing to go to therapy? We could go together if you want. Or you could go alone. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.“

To be honest I’ve been thinking of going to therapy for a while. I’ve been a wuss to go though.

”I’d like that. Know any good ones?“

Luna nodded.

”I do. We can make an appointment. And we can go whenever you feel like you want to go.“

I nodded and just kept leaning into her. I turned my head and looked into her blue-green eyes.

”I never meant to hurt you when I didn’t tell you I visited my dad. I…just don’t know…“

Luna took my face into her hands.

”It’s okay B. We’ll figure it out together. And if you want to spend some time figuring things out with your parents I support you.“ She said and after a heartbeat, she continued.

”I suffer from anxiety and depression. I know what it’s like when it’s getting too much and when I don’t know what to do with my emotions. When I want to scream and cry and just get out of my skin for a while. I get it. That’s what painting is for me. Maybe we can find something you can find comfort in.“ I smiled. Even now when we’re still not sure where we stand exactly, she tries to help and support me. I couldn’t love her more if I tried.

”I always liked working with my hands. Building things. I was always good at it. I once built a princess castle for Keiki.“

”That is so sweet. I bet it was pink.“ Luna smiled softly and I smiled back at her. If there’s one person who loves pink? It’s Luna. But it’s endearing and I love that about her.

”Maybe you can work something out with Adam?“ She suggested.

”You think he’d let me?“ I asked not sure if Adam would let me help with any of his projects.

”Of course. Adam loves you like a brother. He’d help you. Especially if he knows it helps you to feel calm.“

I admit feeling ashamed and mortified that my hands would start to shake again. Is something wrong with me?

”There’s nothing wrong with you B. Sometimes emotions boil over. It’s when you’ve bottled things up too many times. I know that. That’s why I’ve turned to art. When I create art it lets me get out some emotions I‘ve been feeling. We can do some painting together if you want.“

I didn’t realize I'd spoken out loud. I nodded, not able to look at her, afraid she’d see how emotionally exhausted I was.

First visiting my dad, our fight, and now this panic attack during the surgery. Maybe some vacation would do me some good. I‘m sure I can work something out with the chief of medicine. Alana is amazing and she‘s very understanding.

”I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my dad. I just didn’t want to share it because I was scared that if you saw and knew everything you’d…“

”What? Run away? B there’s nothing that could make me run away from you. No matter what happens. Sure I was hurt that you didn’t say anything, but I understand that sometimes certain conversations aren’t that easy. Especially when it’s with a family member you haven’t talked to in a while. But whether we fight or if we have a make-out session all day, a relationship is never easy. But we work on it. We compromise, and most importantly we love each other. Come hell or high water.“

I looked up at her and I could tell from the expression in her eyes that she meant every word.

She hugged me again and I simply leaned into her, borrowing some of the strength that she was offering. We sat like that for another 10 minutes, until Luna had a pained look on her face and I could’ve slapped myself by letting her sit on the ground.

”B not to be rude, but can we maybe go somewhere else? I feel a bit uncomfortable sitting like this.“

”Oh my god I’m sorry of course. Here let me help you up.“ I got to my feet and helped her up.

”Thank you. For being there for me.“ I kissed her soft lips, giving you that warm, cozy feeling as if you were coming home.

”Always.“ She smiled tenderly.

I knew we’d fought, but things will get better again. I believe that.