#we called the urgency this morning and he's waiting to see a doctor

[larstudy]

I'm sorry if I'm not active here these day, there's was a lot going on and I didn't feel like posting :((

Things seem to settle down but it's been complicated :((

[zapreportsblog]

Hello again!

May i request Ben and Garrett meeting their mate when they meet Renesme? She's Bella's elder sister and their first glimpse of her is her asleep with a 6 month old baby girl asleep on her chest. So protective the two of them!! As always please and thank you!

❝threes a crowd❞

✭ pairing : Garrett x reader x Benjamin

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) is the older sister of Bella swan and when she finds out that Bella has had a child she can’t help but to pay them a visit, excited to meet her niece the two of them spend the afternoon playing and then lay down on the couch for some well deserved naps. Garrett and Benjamin are two vampires who feel as though they are missing something from their lives so why not pay their old friend a visit and hope he can help them figure it out, after all he is a doctor and the doctor knows best

✭ twilight masterlist 2

The morning sun cast a warm, golden glow over the small town of Forks, Washington, as (Y/N) drove her old, reliable truck down the familiar winding roads. It had been years since she had left this place, seeking adventure and opportunities far from the quiet life of her hometown. But today, she was coming back for a reason she never expected.

(Y/N) had always been protective of her younger sister, Bella. They shared a special bond growing up, and even though life had taken them in different directions, that bond had never wavered. Over the past few years, (Y/N) had received sporadic updates about Bella from their father, Charlie. Bella had moved back to Forks after a brief stint in Arizona, citing health reasons, but the details had always been vague.

Today was different. Charlie had called (Y/N) late last night, his voice tinged with a mixture of relief and excitement. "Bella's better now, (Y/N)," he had said, his words filled with a joy she hadn't heard in a long time. "She's overcome her sickness."

Sickness? The word had sent shivers down (Y/N)'s spine. She needed to know what had happened to her sister. And there was another piece of news that had taken her by surprise. Bella had a child, a niece. "Edward's adopted niece," Charlie had explained. "They took her in after her mother died."

The sunlit trees lining the road to Forks swayed gently as (Y/N) pulled into the familiar driveway of her childhood home. Her heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and worry. She had so many questions, and she couldn't wait to see Bella again.

Charlie was waiting on the porch, his eyes filled with an emotion that mirrored her own. They embraced tightly, father and daughter reunited after too long apart.

"Tell me everything, Dad," (Y/N) said, her voice trembling with emotion.

Charlie led her inside and began to fill in the gaps. Bella had been battling an illness, one that had left her weak and vulnerable. But Charlie spoke of her recovery with such pride and happiness that (Y/N) couldn't help but smile through her tears. She had always known that her sister was a fighter.

"And the child, Dad? Tell me about her," (Y/N) asked, her curiosity piqued.

Charlie's face softened. "Her name is Renesmee or Nessa as we call her. She's a sweet, bright little girl who's been through so much. Bella and Edward took her in when her mother passed away. They're raising her as their own."

(Y/N) nodded, her heart swelling with admiration for her sister's kindness. She couldn't wait to meet Renesmee and be a part of their lives.

"I want to see Bella, Dad," (Y/N) said, determination in her eyes. "And I want to meet my niece."

Charlie smiled, understanding the urgency in his older daughter's voice. "She's at their place now. I'll take you there."

As they left the house and headed towards Bella's home, (Y/N) couldn't help but wonder how much had changed since she had left Forks. Little did she know that her return would mark the beginning of a new chapter in their lives, one filled with love, family, and unexpected blessings.

The Cullen house stood as impressive as ever, its grandeur hidden beneath the towering pines of the forest. (Y/N) and Charlie parked the truck and made their way to the front door. (Y/N) felt a strange mix of excitement and apprehension as they approached. She hadn't seen Bella in years, and she had never met Bella's husband, Edward, or their adopted niece, Renesmee.

Before she could even reach for the doorbell, it swung open to reveal Alice Cullen, her radiant smile lighting up the doorway. "Welcome to our home, (Y/N)!" Alice exclaimed, pulling her into a warm hug. "Everyone's been eagerly awaiting your arrival."

(Y/N) couldn't help but be surprised. "How did you know I was coming?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Alice's eyes twinkled with a secret that she couldn't reveal. "Charlie sent Bella a message earlier today, saying you'd be joining us."

Charlie nodded in agreement, but (Y/N) couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it. She pushed the thought aside and stepped inside.

The Cullen home was just as beautiful as she remembered it, filled with a sense of elegance and warmth. In the spacious living room, she spotted Bella standing beside a tall, bronze-haired man who could only be Edward. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw her sister, who had transformed into a graceful, confident woman.

"Bella!" (Y/N) called out, rushing forward to envelop her sister in a tight hug. "I've missed you so much."

Bella's eyes filled with tears as she returned the embrace. "I've missed you too, (Y/N). It's so good to see you."

As they pulled away, Edward stepped forward, a warm smile on his face. "I'm Edward," he said, extending his hand. "It's nice to finally meet you in person."

(Y/N) shook his hand, feeling an immediate sense of trust and warmth. "Likewise, Edward. Bella's told me so much about you."

Just then, from Edward's arms, (Y/N) noticed a small bundle of joy. It was a beautiful, dark-haired baby with wide, curious eyes. (Y/N) couldn't help but gasp in delight.

"This is Renesmee," Bella said, her voice filled with motherly pride. "Our daughter."

(Y/N) leaned in to get a closer look at the three-month-old baby. "She's absolutely precious," she whispered, her heart melting at the sight of the tiny miracle in Bella's arms.

Edward smiled proudly as he carefully handed Renesmee over to (Y/N). The baby blinked up at her with a hint of recognition, her small hand reaching out to touch (Y/N)'s cheek.

"I think she likes you," Bella remarked, her smile widening.

(Y/N) held the baby close, overwhelmed by a rush of emotions. She couldn't believe how much her sister's life had changed, but it was a change filled with love and happiness.

As they all gathered in the living room, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel that this reunion was a long-overdue blessing. She had her sister back, and now she had the chance to be a part of this new, loving family that Bella had found in Forks.

The morning passed in a blur of joy and laughter as (Y/N) and Renesmee played together in the cozy Cullen home. They had explored every corner of the backyard, watched cartoons that left them both giggling, and played with an assortment of baby toys that seemed to multiply with each passing hour. By the time the afternoon sun bathed the living room in a warm glow, exhaustion had caught up with them.

(Y/N) sat on the couch, cradling Renesmee in her arms as the little one's eyelids drooped with sleep. It had been a day filled with new discoveries and boundless affection, and both of them were in need of a nap.

As (Y/N) closed her eyes and felt the rhythmic rise and fall of Renesmee's breath against her chest, she couldn't help but smile. The bond she was forming with her niece was something she cherished deeply.

Unbeknownst to (Y/N), Bella had been quietly snapping pictures of the two of them, capturing the precious moments shared between her sister and her daughter. She had missed these family moments so much, and it warmed her heart to see (Y/N) and Renesmee getting along so well.

Edward gently took Bella by the hand and led her aside, away from the sleeping pair on the couch. His expression was grave as he spoke in hushed tones. "Carlisle called. Garrett and Benjamin are coming to pay us a visit."

Bella's eyes widened with surprise. "Garrett and Benjamin? Why?"

Edward sighed, knowing the situation required a careful explanation. "Carlisle didn’t say much."

Bella glanced back at her sister and the peacefully sleeping Renesmee.

Edward hesitated before responding, "They are aware that we have guest over right now. But bella, (Y/N), doesn’t know of our secret and we can't risk exposing her to our world."

Bella nodded in understanding, her heart heavy with the weight of the decision. She had always strived to protect her sister from the dangers of their supernatural life.

Edward continued, "Carlisle already warned them about (Y/N) being here like I said, they also know she’s human so he’s asked them to wear contacts to conceal their eyes.“

Bella looked back at her sister and daughter with a mixture of gratitude and concern. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe, Edward. They mean everything to me."

Edward placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We'll get through this together, Bella. For the safety of our family."

As they returned to the living room, Bella couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding, like their visit wasn’t all that innocent.

The Cullen house was filled with a palpable tension as Garrett and Benjamin arrived, their footsteps silent against the lush carpeted floor. They were known among the vampire community as mates, bound together by a connection deeper than mere friendship. But lately, they had felt something missing from their lives, a void they couldn't ignore.

They had heard rumors of a vampire legend, one that suggested vampires could have more than one mate. It was a risky and rare phenomenon, but they believed it might hold the answer to their unease. That's why they had come to Carlisle for what could only be described as a "check-up" of sorts.

As Carlisle greeted them at the door, his golden eyes concealed behind human-like contact lenses, he welcomed them with a warm smile. "Garrett, Benjamin," he said, extending a hand to each of them. "It's good to see you both."

Garrett and Benjamin nodded in response, their gazes scanning the room. There was an air of anticipation that hung in the air, but they couldn't quite pinpoint the reason for it.

Carlisle led them further into the house. "You must be quite Bella's sister is asleep on the couch with my grandchild."

The mention of Bella's sister piqued Garrett and Benjamin's curiosity, but they remained composed as they followed Carlisle.

As they entered the living room, their eyes fell upon the sight that took their breath away. (Y/N) was asleep on the couch, her chest rising and falling with the peaceful rhythm of slumber. In her arms, she cradled Renesmee, the infant's dark curls blending with (Y/N)'s own hair.

The moment their eyes locked onto (Y/N), something extraordinary happened. Garrett and Benjamin felt a sudden surge of intense emotion, a connection so profound that it left them momentarily stunned. It was the mating bond, a rare and powerful force that bound vampires together for eternity.

Bella, who had been watching their reactions closely, recognized the look of astonishment on their faces. She couldn't contain her smile as she approached them. "Garrett, Benjamin, meet my sister, (Y/N)."

Garrett and Benjamin exchanged glances, unable to tear their eyes away from (Y/N). It was as if they had found the missing piece of their lives, the answer to the emptiness they had felt.

(Y/N) stirred on the couch, slowly waking from her nap. Her eyes fluttered open, and she met the intense gazes of Garrett and Benjamin. In that instant, the mating bond solidified, binding the three of them together in a way they couldn't fully comprehend.

Bella's heart dropped in dread as she watched the extraordinary connection unfold before her. It had been the same look Edward gave her, the same one Emmett shared with Rosalie and Alice with jasper, she knew that look all to well and she was afraid that they all knew that their lives were now forever changed.

Carlisle led Garrett and Benjamin into a separate room, away from the watchful eyes of (Y/N) and the rest of the family. The tension in the air was palpable, and they needed to discuss what had just transpired.

Once they were in the privacy of the room, Garrett spoke first, his voice filled with awe and confusion. "Carlisle, we felt it... the mating bond. It was like a tidal wave, overwhelming and undeniable."

Carlisle's brow furrowed in concern. "This is troubling, indeed," he admitted. "A mating bond is a powerful force, but this situation is far from simple."

Benjamin, ever the optimist, couldn't help but see the bright side. "Isn't this a good thing? We've found our missing piece, someone who completes us."

Carlisle nodded slowly. "Yes, that's great for the two of you, but we have to consider that Charlie and (Y/N). They are all Bella has left linking her to her human life. Now that the two of you have found a mate within (Y/N), I fear how Bella might react."

Just as they were grappling with the complexity of the situation, the door swung open, and Bella entered, her eyes blazing with anger but her voice deceptively calm. "Did you do what I think you did?"

Garrett attempted to defuse the situation with a charming smile. "Bella, it's not something we planned. The mating bond, it's beyond our control."

But Bella wasn't placated. She pushed Garrett aside and confronted Benjamin. "You can't control who you mate with," he said.

Edward, who had been listening from the hallway, appeared at that moment. He knew how to handle Bella's emotions better than anyone. "Bella, come with me," he urged gently, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Bella hesitated for a moment, her eyes still locked onto Benjamin. But eventually, she relented and allowed Edward to lead her out of the room and into the forest to hunt.

As they disappeared into the woods, the tension in the room eased slightly, but the weight of the situation remained. Garrett, Benjamin, and Carlisle were left to grapple with the implications of the unexpected mating bond and the potential consequences it might bring to their unconventional family.

[acute-scary]

Between the Ropes… a Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley fanfic.

Chapter 9: One More Time?

Theme Warning: Mention of Abortion

It was Saturday morning when Jey was jolted awake by his phone ringing insistently. Groggy and disoriented, he glanced at the screen to see Paul Levesque’s name flashing. With a resigned sigh, he answered, knowing this call was likely work-related.

“Hey, Jey. I need you for a wellness drug check,” Paul said, his tone professional but firm. “We’ve had two wrestlers test positive for drugs.”

Jey’s heart sank. The timing was terrible, but he knew better than to argue with Paul. “Which medical center do I need to go to in San Fran?”

There was a brief pause before Paul responded, “Actually, I need you to come to Portland.”

Jey frowned, rubbing his eyes. “Portland? I was hoping to see my regular doctor here in San Fran. Can’t it wait?”

Paul’s voice was unyielding. “The doctor in Portland is already set up and paid for. We need you there today.”

Jey’s frustration mounted. “I can’t just drop everything and fly to Portland on short notice. Why can’t it wait until Monday? I’ve got things lined up today.”

Paul’s tone hardened, leaving no room for negotiation. “Jey, this isn’t a request—it’s an order. The situation is critical, and the arrangements are made. We need you there today, and that’s final.”

Jey felt a surge of anger. “Portland is the last place I want to be right now. Is there something else going on that you’re not telling me? Why so urgent?”

Paul’s voice took on an authoritative edge. “I’m not at liberty to discuss all the details, but you need to trust that this is important. I’ve made it clear—Portland, today, no excuses. If you can’t make it, we’ll handle it differently.”

Jey’s jaw tightened, but he knew arguing further would be futile. Paul’s tone brooked no dissent, and he was well aware of the consequences of defying him. Reluctantly, he conceded, “Alright, I’ll go. What time do you need me there?”

“Head straight to the medical center when you get in. And Jey, don’t keep us waiting. This is a high-priority matter,” Paul instructed before hanging up.

As Jey lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this than just a routine check. He quickly got up, starting to pack a small bag. Jey pulled out his phone and ordered an Uber, three minutes away … The thought of Portland, the city where his recent conflicts and unresolved feelings lay, added to his frustration. Why was Paul so insistent on Portland? What was the real reason behind the urgency? Jey tried to push these thoughts aside, knowing he had to approach the day with the professionalism expected of him. When Jey started tossing his clothes into his bag with unrestrained force, the noise roused Takecia from a restless sleep. Bleary-eyed, she stumbled into the master bedroom, her irritation evident.

“What’s going on?” Takecia demanded, her voice tinged with annoyance. “Why are you packing your stuff? You just got home.”

Jey, frustrated and still groggy, zipped his bag with more force than necessary. “Paul called me. I’ve got to go to Portland for some wellness check. Apparently, it’s urgent.”

Takecia’s eyes widened, her mood shifting from tiredness to frustration. “Portland? We had plans for today. Can’t it wait? You’ve barely been here.”

Jey slammed the bag shut, his irritation boiling over. “I don’t have a choice. Paul’s insistent, and I can’t just blow off a work directive. Why do you always have to question everything I do?”

Takecia folded her arms, her patience wearing thin. “I’m not questioning. I’m just asking why you’re leaving when we had plans. I was looking forward to spending the day together, maybe I don’t know .. have sex?????”

Jey’s anger flared. “Plans? Sex? This is work, Takecia. It’s not like I can just ignore it because you had a nice day planned. It’s not all about you.”

Takecia’s face flushed with indignation. “It’s not all about me? You know what? Maybe if you didn’t have your head so far up your own ass, you’d realize how much this affects me. I’m not some afterthought you can just shove aside whenever it’s convenient for you!”

Jey’s face hardened, his frustration evident. “Don’t start with me. I’m not in the mood for a fight. I’ve got to get going.”

“Good,” Takecia snapped back, her voice sharp. “Because I’m not going to waste my energy arguing with you. If you want to act like a selfish jerk, that’s on you. Just remember who’s here for you when you’re done playing the hero for your boss.”

Jey, feeling the weight of her words, grabbed his bag and headed for the door. He cast one last glance at Takecia, seeing the hurt and anger etched on her face. He knew she wasn’t one to be fucked with, but the mix of guilt and anger gnawed at him as he walked out of the house and into the Uber.

As he left, Jey’s mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. The urgency of the situation, the looming confrontation with Paul, the fight with Rhea, now the fallout with Takecia—all of it weighed heavily on him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the day ahead was going to be far from straightforward.

After this I need a fucking vacation..

—

Rhea’s Saturday morning unfolded quietly, with her lying awake in the hotel suite she shared with Damian. The remnants of a restless night clung to her as she noticed Damian still asleep, exhausted from his late return from Seattle.

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. Quickly pulling on some clothes, Rhea opened the door to find one of Paul’s assistants standing there, holding a folder.

“Mrs. Adams?” the assistant began. “I’ve been instructed to inform you that you have a meeting with a doctor today at 12 p.m. at Broadway Medical Clinic. Paul will also be present.”

Rhea’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why do I need to see a doctor?”

The assistant’s face remained neutral. “I don’t have the specifics, but it’s crucial. Paul insisted.”

Rhea’s unease grew. “Thank you.”

As the assistant left, Rhea shut the door and leaned against it, grappling with the sudden urgency of the situation. Her mind raced, struggling to understand the reason behind this unexpected appointment and Paul’s insistence. Rhea glanced at the clock in the living room, 10:22 AM.

Determined to handle the day with some semblance of control, Rhea prepared herself, her thoughts tangled between anxiety and anticipation. The weight of the appointment loomed large, hinting at a pivotal moment she wasn’t quite prepared for.

—

Rhea arrived at Broadway Medical Clinic, her mind still racing with questions. The limousine parked outside caught her attention as she approached. The window rolled down, revealing Paul’s familiar, reassuring smile.

“Rhea, good to see you,” Paul said warmly. “Please, come in. Let’s discuss this inside.”

Reluctantly, Rhea slid into the back of the limo, taking a seat across from Paul. She glanced around, feeling a surge of unease. “Why the secrecy? Why couldn’t we meet at the hotel or somewhere less… intimidating?”

Paul’s expression softened. “Rhea, I understand this must be overwhelming. I wanted to address a few important matters with you personally. First and foremost, I know about the affair with Jey Uso. It’s come to my attention that there’s a possibility you might be pregnant. To address this, we’ll need to perform a pregnancy test and a Non-Invasive Paternity Test to confirm any claims.”

Rhea’s heart sank. “You’re serious? I don’t want to do this. It’s personal.”

Paul’s tone remained calm, but his voice held a firmness. “I understand your reluctance, but it’s crucial for both your career and the company’s reputation. If you refuse to cooperate, I will have no choice but to suspend you for six months. Upon your return, you will be moved to SmackDown. It’s a significant adjustment, and I’d prefer to avoid that if possible.”

Rhea’s eyes widened in shock. “You’re threatening my career?”

Paul leaned forward slightly, his tone fatherly yet authoritative. “I’m not threatening you, Rhea. I’m trying to help you navigate a difficult situation. This is about ensuring clarity and fairness for everyone involved. I’m here to support you, but we need to address this issue head-on.”

Rhea sat back, her mind racing. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on her. She had hoped to avoid such scrutiny, but now, the reality of her choices and their consequences loomed larger than ever.

Paul had lied to Damian, it was his own way of keeping everything secretive, now if Rhea were to go and do anything, he would at least know.

Paul observed Rhea’s anxious demeanor, his expression softening further. “Rhea, I need you to understand something important,” he said gently. “This isn’t just about enforcing rules or punishing anyone. I genuinely care about you and your career. This situation is complex, and it’s crucial we handle it with transparency and integrity.”

Rhea looked at him, confusion and frustration battling within her. “But why should you even care about me in all this? Why make such a big deal out of it?”

Paul took a deep breath, his voice steady. “I’m trying to protect you, Rhea. The wrestling world is unforgiving, and any hint of scandal can follow you for years. By addressing this directly and honestly, we can avoid more significant issues down the line. I want to ensure that when you look back to work, your reputation and career remained intact and scandal free. This is about preserving your future and ensuring you have the best chance to still be Hall of Fame material.”

Rhea’s shoulders slumped slightly as she absorbed his words. Paul’s tone was sincere, and despite her fears, she could sense his genuine concern. “So, you’re really trying to help me?”

“Yes,” Paul affirmed. “I know this is difficult and uncomfortable, but I’m here to support you through it. We need to face this head-on, and I’ll be by your side every step of the way. Let’s get through this, and we can focus on your future. No one is here.. just the doctor and the tech and they have all signed NDA’s. Let’s go in.”

Rhea took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of relief and resignation. Paul’s commitment to her well-being and career gave her a small measure of comfort, even as she faced the daunting tests ahead.

—

Rhea followed the assistant into the treatment room, her heart pounding. The room was sterile and clinical, a different setting compared to the luxury of the limo. She was handed a small cup and directed to the bathroom. Inside, she took a deep breath, peeing into the cup and placing it in the mini privacy box provided. Her mind raced as she returned to the treatment room.

After about ten minutes, Rhea was guided to another room where a technician waited with a sonogram machine. The technician greeted her kindly and prepared the equipment. Rhea lay down on the examination table, her anxiety mounting as the technician applied gel to her abdomen and began the scan. The screen flickered with images, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

Meanwhile, Jey arrived at the medical center, still grappling with the sudden urgency of Paul’s request. He was greeted by one of Paul’s assistants and led to the waiting room. Paul soon joined him, his demeanor calm and professional.

“Jey,” Paul said, extending a hand. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. We’re conducting a routine wellness check. It includes a drug test and an oral swab. It’s standard procedure.”

Jey nodded, trying to mask his confusion and frustration. “Okay, but why Portland? I thought this could be done in San Francisco.”

Paul smiled reassuringly. “I understand your concern. We have a full facility here for these checks, and it’s easier to manage everything in one place. You’ll need to wait about 30 minutes in the treatment room for the results. It’s all part of keeping things thorough and transparent.”

Jey agreed reluctantly, still uncertain about the reasons behind the sudden move. He was led to the treatment room and left to wait. As he settled into the room, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this than a routine drug test.

Back in the sonogram room, Rhea stared at the ceiling, trying to focus on the technician’s soothing voice explaining the process. Her mind was a swirl of worry and confusion about what the results might reveal and how they would affect her life moving forward.

After arriving in the treatment room, Jey was guided through the routine drug test procedures. He first provided a urine sample, then had blood drawn for further testing. The doctor, a middle-aged man with a calm demeanor, pulled out an oral swab test. Jey noticed a tube labeled with the marking “FAT” and furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Jey asked, his curiosity piqued.

The doctor, sensing Jey’s concern, offered a reassuring smile. “No, it’s just a label for our tracking system. It doesn’t have any bearing on you personally. Just open your mouth, and I’ll get the sample.”

Jey complied, opening his mouth as the doctor swabbed the inside of his cheek. He tried to shake off his unease and pulled out his phone, scrolling through messages and social media to pass the time.

Meanwhile, Rhea was in a similar situation. After finishing her sonogram, the technician performed an oral swab. Rhea watched as the technician pulled out a test tube marked with the label “ADA.” She raised an eyebrow and let out a small chuckle. “I guess that means I’m an Australian With A Disability ” she joked, trying to lighten the mood despite her apprehension.

The technician offered a polite smile as she completed the swab, taking a quick sample from the inside of Rhea’s cheek. “It’s just a standard label for our tracking system,” the technician explained.

As Jey waited for his test results, he glanced around the room, trying to ignore the growing discomfort in his stomach. He continued scrolling through his phone, but his mind kept drifting back to the uncertainties surrounding his current predicament. The ambiguity of the situation only heightened his sense of unease.

—

Paul sat in a quiet corner of the clinic, the documents from the doctor spread out before him. His fingers gripped the edges of the papers as he scanned the results, his face growing increasingly somber. The tests had confirmed what he dreaded: Joshua Fatu was indeed the father of Demi Adams’ 13-week-old fetus. The revelation was disheartening, as Paul had hoped the situation could be managed without exposing such personal and professional turmoil.

The doctor approached Paul, carrying a folder filled with additional information. “Given the nature of Rhea's career and the physical demands it involves,” the doctor began, his tone measured and professional, “there’s a significant risk of miscarriage if she continues with the pregnancy. We also have information on her options, including abortion services and the timeframes within which she can choose to terminate the pregnancy if she decides that’s the best course of action.”

Paul's mind raced as he absorbed the gravity of the situation. He considered the impact this news would have on Rhea’s career, her personal life, and the broader implications for WWE. He felt a deep sense of responsibility not only for Rhea's wellbeing but also for managing the fallout within the organization.

Paul took a deep breath, preparing himself for the difficult conversations that lay ahead. He needed to approach Rhea with sensitivity and support, ensuring she understood her options and the potential consequences of each. The weight of the decision ahead was immense, and Paul knew that navigating this situation with care and respect was crucial for everyone involved.

Paul’s mind manage to focus from the implications of the test results as he directed his assistants to handle the next steps with precision. He knew that managing the situation required utmost control and discretion.

“Make sure both Jey and Rhea are brought to the Ritz Carlton without encountering each other,” Paul instructed firmly. “Arrange for separate transportation for each of them. One of you should go to Rhea’s room and wait with her until her Uber arrives. The other will do the same for Jey. Ensure there are no crossings between them until they reach the conference room. It’s essential that we keep everything in order.”

Paul’s assistants nodded in understanding and set off to carry out his instructions. Paul’s reasoning was clear: by controlling the timing and logistics of their arrivals, he could maintain order and avoid any unnecessary confrontation or complications. The last thing he wanted was for Jey and Rhea to have a run-in before he had the chance to discuss their options and the future course of action with them separately.

Jey's frustration simmered as the assistant hovered around him, ensuring every detail of their ride was handled with meticulous care. "Can’t you just give me some space?" Jey snapped, glaring at the assistant who remained by his side, ready to accompany him in the Uber. The assistant offered a sympathetic but professional smile, clearly aware of Jey’s annoyance but remaining steadfast in their duty.

Meanwhile, Rhea's anxiety was palpable. As the assistant accompanied her to the Uber, she tried to steady her breathing, her fear evident. The ride felt interminable, each moment stretching as she worried about what awaited her. Her heart raced as she tried to focus on calming thoughts, but the assistant's presence offered little comfort.

Paul, fully aware of the need for discretion, made his own preparations. As soon as his assistants had left to escort Jey and Rhea, Paul had slipped into his limo, ensuring the ride was quiet and uninterrupted. He needed to arrive at the Ritz Carlton before his two guests and avoid drawing any attention. The strategy was clear: maintain control and minimize visibility.

Pulling into the hotel, Paul bypassed the main entrance, directing the driver to use the service entrance. With practiced efficiency, he made his way through the back corridors to the conference room. The space had been set up in advance, ready for the tense discussions that lay ahead. Paul carefully avoided any visible contact with hotel staff or other guests, ensuring that he remained an unseen player in the unfolding drama.

About fifteen minutes later, the first of his expected guests arrived. Rhea walked into the conference room, her expression a mix of apprehension and determination.

Rhea sat down as her body tensed with anticipation. The room’s sterile environment felt cold and unwelcoming, accentuated by its harsh lighting and minimalist décor. She stared at the empty chair opposite her, trying to steady her racing thoughts. The silence was almost unbearable, punctuated only by the occasional shuffle of papers or the hum of the air conditioning.

Paul, seated at the head of the table, remained silent and composed, his gaze fixed on the door as if anticipating someone's arrival. His quiet demeanor added to the weight of the situation, making Rhea’s anxiety even more palpable.

The door opened, and Jey stepped inside. His expression was a volatile mix of surprise, frustration, and concern. As soon as his eyes landed on Rhea, a deep silence fell over the room. The sight of her brought back a flood of emotions he had been trying to contain.

Jey hesitated momentarily, his gaze locked with Rhea’s. The weight of their shared past and the gravity of the current situation seemed to crush them both. He walked towards the empty chair and sat down with a deliberate, almost mechanical motion. The chair between them now felt like an impenetrable barrier.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Rhea’s thoughts churned with regret and uncertainty. She couldn’t escape the realization of how their once-passionate relationship had spiraled into secrecy and betrayal. As she looked at Jey, a pang of guilt and sorrow overwhelmed her. She wondered if they could ever mend what had been broken.

Jey’s mind was equally chaotic. His frustration was evident, but he struggled to keep it in check. He couldn’t understand why Paul had orchestrated this meeting or what was to come. The room felt claustrophobic, and he questioned whether there was any hope for resolution. As he glanced at Rhea, he saw his own pain mirrored in her eyes.

Paul remained silent, observing the scene with a stoic expression. His presence loomed large, a constant reminder of the power dynamics at play. He had orchestrated this meeting to ensure control and to make sure that everything proceeded as he deemed necessary.

The room was charged with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. As Jey and Rhea sat in their respective chairs, separated by a chasm of their own making, the difficult conversations that lay ahead felt almost insurmountable. Paul’s gaze shifted between them, his silence a deliberate tactic as he prepared to address the complexities of their situation.

Paul finally broke the silence, his voice firm. “Thank you both for coming. The tests you both did today confirm everything…. ”

Jey’s face drained of color. “There must be a mistake.”

Rhea’s frustration boiled over. “Jey, the tests are clear. I’m pregnant, and you can’t just ignore it. We have to confront this.”

Jey’s disbelief morphed into agitation. “I can’t handle this right now. It’s too much.”

Rhea’s voice grew sharp. “So now it’s too much for you? I’m the one who has to deal with this, and you’re acting like it’s an inconvenience for you!”

Jey’s anger flared. “It’s not just about me! This is overwhelming, and I don’t know how to process it.”

Rhea’s expression was one of pained determination. “You know what? Maybe I should just get an abortion. It’s clear you’re not ready to face this.”

Jey’s eyes widened. “You’re seriously talking about ending it?”

Rhea’s face was resolute. “What choice do I have? You’re not prepared to deal with this, and I’m left to handle it alone.”

Paul tried to interject, his voice steady. “Rhea, let’s focus on discussing all options and support rather than immediate decisions.”

But before Paul could say more, Jey’s voice cracked. “Rhea, wait. I know I’ve messed up, and I don’t know how to fix this, but… I… I do …” Jey struggled and Rhea freaked out, she knew what he was trying to say.

Rhea looked at Jey, her skepticism evident. “Do you really love me, Jey? Honestly it’s hard to believe after everything.”

Paul stepped in, his tone unexpectedly personal. “Jey, I am going to be honest, I once loved a woman named Joanie, Rhea you know who she is. Joanie was the woman I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with. It was a profound connection, but then Stephanie came into my life. Ever since then I keep an open mind when it comes to affairs because Love is complex and can be overshadowed by circumstances. Understanding and effort is crucial.”

Rhea stood abruptly, her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t deal with this right now. I need to be alone.”

Without waiting for a response, Rhea walked out of the room, leaving Jey and Paul behind.

Paul sighed and turned to Jey. “I understand this is a lot to process. I need an answer from both of you by Monday. I need to know how you plan to proceed, both for the sake of your personal lives and the future of your careers.”

Jey sat in stunned silence, trying to grasp the gravity of the situation. The weight of Paul’s ultimatum pressed down on him, as he faced the daunting task of finding a resolution to the turbulent situation.

Paul left the room, heading to his limo with the intent of keeping control over the next steps. The conference room remained heavy with unspoken tension, leaving Jey to finally decide to be a man do what he should have done in the first place. He made his way out of the conference room and headed up the elevator to familiar floor. He knew where to go…

Jey stood in front of the hotel suite door, tension rippling through his body. He knocked again, harder this time, and when Damian finally opened it, Jey's heart was already in his throat. Damian's face was impassive, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned against the door frame, arms crossed.

"Where is she?" Jey's voice was rough, on edge. He had no time for small talk, no patience for anything except seeing Rhea.

Damian tilted his head slightly, clearly weighing how much he wanted to say. "She’s not here."

Jey let out a frustrated breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Damian, don’t play with me right now, man. Where is she?”

Damian’s expression didn’t change, but there was something in his eyes—something protective, maybe even a little weary. “I don’t know. She just needed space.”

Jey’s chest tightened. He knew what that meant. Rhea had a way of disappearing when things got too heavy, when she needed to be alone with her thoughts. He remembered something she had said to him once in passing, during one of their many late-night conversations. “I'm always on a rooftop. It's like the best place to be when I need to be fully away from someone."

His mind locked onto that, his heart thudding against his ribcage. Without another word to Damian, he turned and strode down the hallway, his steps quick and determined. He knew exactly where she’d be.

The cold air hit Jey like a slap as he stepped onto the rooftop, the city skyline stretched out before him. There she was, just as he thought—standing near the edge, her arms wrapped around herself, staring into the distance like the world could somehow drown out everything that was happening between them.

His heart clenched as he approached her, each step slow and careful, like he was trying not to spook her. “Rhea,” he called softly, the wind carrying his voice toward her.

She didn’t turn, but her body stiffened, as if she’d been expecting him.

“I remember what you said,” Jey continued, his voice rough with emotion. “About always coming to the rooftop when you needed to get away from someone.”

Rhea exhaled, but still, she didn’t move. Jey could feel the tension, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. He was tired of it, tired of hiding, tired of pretending this thing between them wasn’t tearing them both apart.

“I went to the suite,” he said, his voice louder, more forceful. “Damian told me you needed space. But I’m done with space. I’m done running from this. From us.”

Finally, Rhea turned, her eyes wide with a mix of emotions—anger, confusion, maybe even fear. “Us?” she repeated, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “What the hell is us, Jey?” Her accent coming out more.

He took another step forward, his chest tight with the weight of everything he had been holding back. “It’s everything. It’s me and you. It’s real, Rhea.”

Rhea shook her head, taking a step back as if she couldn’t bear to hear what he was saying. “No. No, this isn’t real. This is a mess.”

Jey clenched his fists, his frustration boiling over. “It’s real to me! I can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t mean something.”

Rhea’s eyes flashed with anger, her voice rising. “What are you even saying, Jey? You’ve got a wife. You’ve got kids. You think you can just blow that up for—what? For some affair?”

Jey’s heart pounded, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I love my kids, Rhea. You know that. I love them more than anything. But I’m not in love with Takecia anymore. I haven’t been for a long time.”

Rhea flinched, her eyes searching his face for something—anything—that made sense in this chaos. “And what? You think this is love? Sneaking around, lying to everyone? Lying to ourselves?”

“Yes!” Jey shouted, his emotions crashing down like a wave. “Yes, I do. I love you, Rhea.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world had stopped. But instead of softening, instead of those words pulling her closer, Rhea’s face hardened.

“No, you don’t,” she said, her voice cold, sharp. “You don’t love me. You just don’t want to lose me. And that’s not the same thing.”

Jey’s heart plummeted. “You don’t mean that,” he whispered, but there was no conviction in his voice, no strength left to fight.

Rhea looked away, her arms wrapped tighter around herself. “What are we even doing, Jey? You want me to blow up my life, your life, for this? You think you can just walk away from Takecia, from your kids, and everything will be fine? Do you remember Chyna?? I do! Hunter left her! He had an affair and he left her! She went on a downward spiral after Hunter left her! I don’t want to be responsible for Takecia going on a downward spiral..” Rhea said as she turned back to see Jey.

“I’ll leave her,” Jey said, his voice desperate. “If you leave Matt, I’ll leave her. We can start over. We can have a real chance.”

Rhea laughed, but it was a bitter, hollow sound. “You’re insane. You can’t just walk away from your family like that. This isn’t some fantasy, Jey. This is real life.”

Jey felt his frustration rise again, felt the need to make her understand. “I’m already walking away. I’ve been gone for a long time. You’re the only thing that makes sense to me anymore, Rhea. Don’t you see that?”

Rhea’s eyes filled with tears, her voice trembling. “You think this is love? This is chaos, Jey. This is destruction. And I’m not going to be the one to burn everything down.”

Jey reached for her, but she stepped back, shaking her head. “I can’t do this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind. “I can’t.”

“Rhea, please,” Jey’s voice cracked, his desperation evident. “Don’t do this. Don’t walk away.”

Rhea looked at him, her eyes filled with pain and anger. “I don’t have any other choice..”

As Rhea's hand closed around the rooftop door, Jey grabbed her wrist with a desperation that shook her to her core. Before she could react, before the protests could leave her lips, Jey spun her around with such force that her breath caught in her throat.

His eyes were wild, burning with a mix of fear, regret, and something else-something darker, something that terrified and thrilled her at the same time. He didn't wait for permission. His lips slammed into hers, hard and frantic, with a hunger that consumed every inch of her.

This wasn't a kiss. This was an explosion.

At first, Rhea resisted, her hands pushing weakly against his chest, trying to maintain the last thread of control she had left. But Jey didn't stop. His hands cupped her face, his fingers tangling roughly in her hair as he held her in place, refusing to let her go. His kiss was demanding, raw, a battle against the space between them, and for a moment, it was as if he was trying to erase all the pain, the betrayal, the uncertainty with the force of his lips alone.

The intensity of it left her gasping for air, but he wouldn't relent. He kissed her deeper, harder, as if this was the only way he could communicate everything he felt-everything he'd been holding back for months. And as the fire in her chest grew, the dam she'd been holding inside finally broke.

Rhea gave in.

Her resistance melted away, her body collapsing into his as her hands clawed at his shirt, pulling him closer. She kissed him back with everything she had, matching his intensity, pouring her anger, confusion, and desire into him. Every wall, every hesitation, shattered.

This was no longer about control. This was about release-about giving in to the one thing that made sense in the chaos of their lives.

Jey's hands slid down her back, gripping her waist with a fierceness that sent a shiver down her spine. He pulled her flush against him, leaving no space between their bodies. Their hearts pounded together, frantic, desperate, as if this was the last kiss they'd ever share. His lips devoured hers with such force it almost hurt, but she didn't care.

Rhea could feel every emotion, every unsaid word, every ounce of regret, passion, and longing in the way Jey kissed her. It was like he was trying to make her understand without words-trying to tell her that she was it for him.

That no matter how messy their lives had become, no matter how broken everything was, this kiss... this was real.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, her body pressing impossibly closer as she surrendered completely. The rooftop, the skyline, everything around them disappeared. There was no Portland, no hotel suite, no Damian, no Takecia.

It was just them-Rhea and Jey, locked in a moment that felt like it could tear them both apart.

And maybe it would.

As the kiss deepened, Rhea felt everything inside her unravel. The pregnancy, the fights, the push, the lies—none of it mattered right now. All that mattered was the way Jey kissed her, the way his lips moved against hers like this was the only way to keep them alive.

She moaned softly into his mouth, her body trembling under his touch as he held her like he'd never let her go. His kiss was frantic, urgent, filled with a desperation that mirrored her own. Every emotion she had been burying for months came rushing to the surface, overwhelming her, drowning her in him.

When they finally broke apart, gasping for air, their foreheads rested against each other, their breath mingling in the cool night air. Rhea's chest heaved, her pulse racing as if her heart was trying to claw its way out of her chest.

Jey's voice was rough, low, as he whispered, "I love my kids, Rhea. But I'm not in love with Takecia. I've never felt like this about anyone."

She stared at him, her lips still tingling from the intensity of the kiss, her mind spinning. The words hung between them, heavy and impossible. She didn't know what to say-what to feel.

"'l will leave her," Jey continued, his hands still gripping her waist like he was afraid she'd slip away. "If you leave Matt, I'll leave her. We can do this... we can be together."

Rhea's heart twisted painfully in her chest. She wanted to believe him-God, she wanted to believe him so badly. But the weight of everything crushed down on her. Was this real?

Could they really make it work? Could they survive everything they'd done?

Her lips parted, the words she wanted to say stuck in her throat. She looked into his eyes, searching for something-some kind of answer, some kind of reassurance. But all she saw was the same fear and desperation she felt.

"I don't know if I can do this," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Jey... I don't know."

Jey's hand moved to her cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped free. "I love you," he said, his voice fierce, unrelenting.

"I love you, Rhea. I don't care what it takes. I'll prove it. I'll leave her."

She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, her heart breaking under the weight of his words.

But before she could respond, before she could even think, Jey pulled her in again, his lips crashing against hers with even more intensity than before. This kiss was different. It was a promise-a vow. He kissed her like it was the last chance he had to show her how much he meant it.

Rhea's mind screamed at her to stop, but her body didn't listen. She kissed him back, pouring everything into that one final, desperate kiss.

Because in that moment, they both knew-they were too far gone to turn back now.

[juminies]

gentle intimacy

brief details of showers in your marriage

jumin x reader, 1355 words, domestic fluff

read on AO3

♡

The first time you shower together, it’s out of convenience. You wake up and blink through the harsh morning light. Jumin is still sleeping soundly next to you; a quiet, gentle snore just barely hitting your ears. Peace in contrast to the war of the sunlight in your tired eyes. He’s facing away, but even still you’ve seen his sleeping expression probably hundreds of times by now. It's almost permanently ingrained into your brain.

You smile as you turn over to look at the clock to see how much longer you can sleep, and–

Oh no.

You’re practically jolted awake, instead. You lean over to shake your husband.

“Jumin?”

He groans groggily in response, his tired brain still not quite registering the sound of your voice.

“Honey,” you say with a little more urgency. “It’s almost 7.” This wakes him up, too.

“What?” he asks, eyes widening as you hurry to get out of bed, it dawning on the both of you simultaneously that you need to leave for the airport in less than fifteen minutes. He picks up his phone and a quick glance over at his screen gives you evidence that driver Kim is already waiting outside for you, and all you can think is thank God our luggage is already packed.

“I need to shower,” you tell Jumin, heading for the bathroom. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

“Wait, I’ll come with you,” is his response, muffled slightly by him practically throwing the bed covers halfway across the room.

And, well, this scenario is not in any way romantic, really. You’re both just trying to wash up as quickly as possible, and in all honesty, upon stepping into the hot stream of water you can’t help but feel it would have just been more convenient for one of you to brush your teeth and use the toilet while the other showered, then switch over. It ends up a kerfuffle of limbs getting in the way of other limbs and elbows to the ribs all wound up by a string of apologies and quiet laughter, and even more laughter when after an accidental hit with a bottle of shower gel you remember the penthouse has two showers.

You manage to beat the scramble to leave on time by only about a minute. Driver Kim asks Jumin why he seems so flustered as he puts your suitcases into the trunk of the car, and Jumin chuckles as he tells him, “it’s really not what you might think.”

You can’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it just a little bit, in the end.

The time after that you wake up sick, your head pounding.

“Perhaps we should call Doctor Jung?” Jumin suggests, pacing back and forth in the lounge. A look of concern is plastered across his face. He had left before you woke up this morning, and you wouldn’t bother him while he was working over an issue so trivial.

Neither of these things are an uncommon sight when he’s stressed, however.

“I’m fine,” you insist. “It’s just a cold.”

He stops pacing and turns to look at you, his expression softening as your eyes meet. Then you sneeze, as if on cue, causing Elizabeth 3rd to stir on your lap. She nuzzles her nose between her front paws. Jumin shakes his head.

“Still, I’d rather we were safe and have you looked over,” he sighs, walking over to where you're sitting. He puts his hands on your cheeks, then gently moves one to your forehead. “You have a temperature,” he adds, and the way you look up at him prompts him to kiss the top of your head. “Please?”

“I don’t feel as bad as I did this morning. We don’t need Doctor Jung to come all the way here just to diagnose me with the common cold,” you tell him. He goes to protest and you can’t help but giggle, preemptively cutting him off. “How about we compromise, and if I’m not better in a couple of days then I give you permission to call the doctor?”

“As long as you let me compromise, my angel, by staying home from work to care for you tomorrow. And running you a bath now.”

“You don’t need to do either of those things, darling. I promise, I’m okay. Though I do think hot water could do me some good. I’ll just shower.”

“Then let me join you?” he playfully proposes. You huff with a smile, defeated by how flat out charming he is.

“If you must.”

He quietly undresses you (another part of his compromise, apparently), leaving little affectionate kisses and kind words on your warm skin as he goes.

You feel a sense of relief immediately when the water hits you, it evens out your chills and aids your stuffy nose. Jumin steps in behind you not long after, wrapping his arms around your waist and bending down to place another kiss on your shoulder.

“Now let me take care of you,” he whispers. “My love.”

And he does just that. He shampoos your hair as though you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever touched; holds you in the warmth like he would never dream of letting go; gives you kisses even through your proclamations that you really really don’t want him to get sick.

(Of course he does get sick, a couple of days later, like you said he would. You joke that he did it on purpose to spend more time with you, but repay his gesture with no second thoughts.)

Then the most recent time, where Jumin has been away in Europe for work. For the last couple of years he has been taking you with him on business trips when he can – he’s a good negotiator, and realistically nobody can (or would) say no to him bringing you along. He tried this time too, but it was arranged at such short notice that there was no way you could have joined him. You hadn’t initially been too phased, aside from the fact you tend to struggle to sleep without him these days.

Tonight is one of those nights. No, this week has been one of those weeks.

Sleep deprivation has been consuming you at a swift pace. You're led to believe your lack of sleep has even begun to bother Elizabeth 3rd by now. You feel sorry for tossing and turning in bed so much that she can’t get any more comfortable than you can. But you’ve tried everything. Everything that usually helps you to sleep has been rendered utterly useless. Your last resort would be to call Jumin, but you know he couldn’t answer now even if he wanted to.

And it isn’t helping, you’re sure, that you expected him to be home to sleep with again tonight.

So you continue to toss and turn.

You get out of bed at about 2:15, head to the kitchen for water. Go back to bed. Get up. Go back to bed. Get up. Go back to bed. And you’re actually half asleep when you hear soft voices outside. The door being unlocked, and locked again. A heavy sigh. In the silence that follows, a wave of comfort so powerful washes over you that you’re almost certain you’re dreaming, finally.

Then the shower turns on, and no, you’re awake.

You get up again, make your way to the bathroom. You tap on the door gently, and push it open just enough to poke your head into the room.

“Jumin?”

The water gets quieter.

“Can I join you?”

You can hear the blissful relief in his voice when he responds, “do you even have to ask?”

He pulls you in tight as you step into the water with him. “Did I wake you?” he mutters into your hair.

“I’ve barely slept all week,” you chuckle.

“Nor have I.”

In a strange way you’re reminded of the first time. You think of the hundreds between. And soon you will fall asleep in his arms again, head against his chest, his heartbeat more comforting than the drone of the shower ever could be.

[tarnishedxknight]

{out of dalmasca} Well, guys... things just keep getting better. Yes, that was sarcasm, heh. I'll continue below a cut to spare people who don't want to hear about these sorts of things... but the upshot is... I'm still not sure how long my hiatus is going to be. I hope to know in the next day or two, and then I will update everyone. In the meantime, this blog will still remain open, activity will just come and go as I have brain, energy, and desire to write.

My appt. today didn't quite go how I thought it would. I met my surgeon, he's extremely nice and he answered all my questions. So I feel better about the surgery in general. But like... I thought we had already decided I was doing this and today was to actually... schedule it. Nope, today was to decide to do it (I decided 14 months ago, but okay), and now they need me to go for like four other tests and have an appt. with one of my other docs before I can even schedule surgery.

So not only do I not know when it is still, but I'm pretty much in constant pain around the clock, my anxiety is as a sustained level of Terrible™, and at any moment, something could go very wrong and land me in the hospital. I'm just... tired of the American healthcare system, ffs. Pardon my language but this is fucking bullshit. How long do I have to be in pain for, or how sick do I have to be, before somebody feels a sense of urgency about this?

And then... my favorite aunt passed away today, only four months after her cancer diagnosis. On her grandson's birthday. And my cousin was there by her side for weeks but had to fly home for a couple days because her husband couldn't cancel a business trip and she needed to watch her kids. So she wasn't there when her mom died and is beating herself up over it. I have to call her tomorrow and it's... something I know I have to do, but really don't want to. I'm so exhausted with everything I've been going through that I just am not sure how much I have to give her as far as being able to hold her up and to offer deep emotional consolation. I just don't have a lot to give right now. I've been running on empty for a long time now. But I have to try.

My dad says he's going to tell my grandmother tomorrow morning, and then he has to leave for the day. So I'm going to be left home with her for like 5-6 hours, and I have hours of grading to do, and she will likely... not leave me alone to get my work done. I'm a little pissed off about that, but I know he's upset about his sister and I don't want to get on his case about it. So she'll want to sit and talk and reminisce and all that and I just... frankly... don't. I internalize things, that's just how I am. My grandmother... needs human interaction and talking and constant noise. Her needs are the polar opposite of mine. So tomorrow should be fun, grading while she won't leave me alone while waiting for various doctor's offices to call me back about appts. and then calling my grief-stricken cousin. *sigh*

So... yeah, that's where I'm at. 🙃 I am hoping... once again... that in the next 1-2 days I'll have a lot of these appts down and I'll know when my aunt's funeral is, so I'll know whether I'm just going to extend this hiatus for a while, or come back for a bit and then take another hiatus later. There are just so many scheduling things that are outside of my control right now, so I just have to wait and see.

Thank you to everyone on this blog who has been so understanding these past few months. This is... a pretty bad time in my life (and obviously my dad's and cousin's etc. as well), but I'm just taking things one day at a time.

I do want to write a little, the distraction is good right now. I apologize in advance if it isn't the greatest writing in the world because I am a bit off right now, but I would like to be here for a few hours tonight and just work on what I can.

[crowblincray]

So, next in my haunted janitorial tales. Let me tell the tales of one of the first buildings I ever cleaned for.

The Allergy clinic.

This place Still shows up in my dreams from time to time, maybe a bit warped within the dreamscape but still.

I cleaned this place for Years, I still clearly remember the layout for the place even though I haven't set foot there in over a decade.

Absolute block of a building.

There were large glass windows all around it and it had two floors. The top floor was the main clinic, the bottom was full of cubicles and offices.

There were several resident ghosts in this particular building but I never felt threatened by them.

There was a little black girl in a white dress who was scared of the dark that stayed in the waiting room. I knew she was scared of the dark because I always felt an urgency to turn the lights on whenever I went in there in the dark. I'm not afraid of the dark so I knew it wasn't coming from me.

One year on Halloween, several years into working at this place, I stopped and looked at the room after turning the lights on a spoke to the little girl. "You don't have to stay here and be scared in the dark if you don't want to, you know? You can leave and go to the light where you'll never have to be in the dark again." I felt the anxiety dissipate and never saw her in the windows again. No more fear when the lights were off.

Another ghost there was a lady in one of the offices. She didn't like people in her office. I was always respectful though, I'd knock on the door. "Ma'am, here to vacuum the floor." The fucking chair would roll out of the way, I kid you not. I'd clean and put the chair back. Tell her to have a nice day, turn the light out.

One day we had this goth guy helping out and we didn't tell him about the lady. This guy had blue hair, tattoos, piercings, the works. He comes running to me, "There's a ghost! She had scary red glowing eyes!" He's freaking out. I calmly go, "Oh yeah, she's like that, gimme a sec." I wander to her office and knock on the door. "Ma'am, he's with us. We're sorry, he didn't know, he's new." Cue the chair moving. He was standing behind me and watched it, his eyes wide and skin somehow paler than usual.

Was funny as heck to me since this guy loved putting on airs.

There was an old man that was balding in another section that grumbled whenever I'd vacuum. No it wasn't the vacuum noises, this was the sound of someone complaining over the sound of the vacuum.

Then there was a brunette in a pink sweater downstairs. My whole team saw her through the downstairs windows as we drove up the driveway into the parking area. No one was there but we all saw her and described the same woman. If there had been anyone there we would have seen their car or seen them leave.

Last but not least, and the saddest of all.

The business was moving to another building. I had seen this one nurses scrubs and work badge for years at this time. I knew what she looked like and what her name was even though I never met her.

Alive at least...

I was throwing out garbage around the receptionist desk and looked up to see this particular nurse walking by, wearing those scrubs I seen hanging on the back of her door for years. They had peacock feathers on them. She was carrying a clipboard and looking over it.

I called out her name, somewhat confused and surprised.

She looked up and She looked like She had seen a ghost. She faded away right in front of me.

Later that morning when one of the doctors came in I asked what happened to that nurse. He said she had passed away, no particular details. I didn't tell him what I saw.

I haven't been able to remember her name since, even though I still clearly remember what she looked like. I never saw her there again.

I like to hope me startling her sent her on to the other side. I don't think she knew she was gone.

I also had time slips and seen lots of weird and massive bugs at this place much like the experiences I mentioned from the private school. This place didn't feel threatening though like the school did.

I got my fear of ants from that place though. When you see walls covered in black, swarming masses, trails across the floor leading to every single trash can. Turning a Krispy Kreme box from white to black. That shit will change you.

Also pretty sure I had a baby possum run up my pants leg once at the dumpster there.

Didn't scare me, just startled me.

[leslie-lyman]

Stranger At My Gate - Chapter 2 (Pero Tovar x modern!OFC)

A time-traveling Pero. A modern woman trying her best. A kitchen full of possibility. A helping of Midwest kindness. A dash of magic. And a lot of Christmas spirit.

pairing: Pero Tovar x modern!OFC

rating: T for now

word count: 5.3k

a/n: okay, first of all, wow. The reaction to the first chapter of this story was far beyond what I could have hoped for, so thank you. One general note/warning I want to put here for this fic before we proceed further: as you may have guessed, food is going to play a huge role in this story - the preparing of it, the enjoying of it, and some issues around it regarding food insecurity and hunger that would be expected of someone from Pero’s time. I know that discussion of food can be tough for folks, even outright triggering, so I did want to say something about it here. I will do my best to tag individual chapters with any warnings and such as we go along. If that’s cool with you, read on!

Previous chapter.

————

Two.

“Why is it always ‘Henry, please come over to help me deal with the dirty, wounded stranger who showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night’ and never ‘Henry, please come over just because I love you and miss you and want to spend time with you, the best brother in the whole world’?”

Tessa elbows him in the ribs with a precision honed from thirty years of practice.

“You’re the best brother in the whole world because you come over to help me deal with the dirty, wounded stranger.”

Tessa hadn’t heard the man knock on her door, she’d felt it, her Gift waking her up from a dead sleep around four in the morning with a wild sense of urgency. She hadn’t even realized she’d gotten out of bed and run to her front door until she’d opened it and found...him.

For a few terrible moments, she’d been afraid he was dead. She’d been relieved to feel a strong, steady pulse under his jaw, though he hadn’t stirred once the entire time she’d wrestled his large frame into her house and out of the storm.

After getting him inside, she’d called Henry, knowing that regardless of the early hour, when she asked him to come over right away with his basic medical kit and some spare clothes, he’d answer.

If Tessa’s Gift is intuition, her brother’s Gift is healing. He can’t work instant miracles, but his patients tend to get over their flus, their colds, their ear infections far more quickly than usual. If you were to ask them, they’d also say there’s an inexplicable sense of comfort they feel when they see him, that something about his manner just puts them at ease. As far as Tessa is concerned, that part has nothing to do with his Gift. Henry has the biggest heart of anyone she knows. It’s just who he is. Tessa is certain that even without his magical talent, he’d have become a doctor regardless.

After a preliminary examination hadn’t revealed any obviously life-threatening injuries, at Tessa’s insistence the two of them had managed to carry the mysterious stranger into Tessa’s guest room. They’d gingerly stripped him of his boots, leather outer tunic, rough cloth undershirt, and a somewhat concerning number of very real-looking weapons before covering him up in several spare blankets to get him warm and dry. He’d flitted in and out of consciousness a few times, especially when Henry had cleaned the wounds on his knuckles and the cut on his temple, but never long enough to be coherent before slipping off again.

Now, just after seven in the morning, Tessa and her brother stand in her still-dark kitchen, waiting for the sun to come up and debating what to do next.

“Think he’s gonna be okay?”

Henry shrugs, grabbing two mugs from Tessa’s extensive collection and helping himself to her coffee maker.

“From what I can tell, there’s no immediate issue. The wound on his head doesn’t look severe enough to cause a concussion, and he’s not exhibiting any clear signs of infection. But I can only do basic first aid with what I’ve got, otherwise there’s nothing for it except to wait for him to wake up. If we took him to a hospital - ”

“No.”

They’d had this argument when Henry had first arrived, and she’d shut him down then too.

“Tess, why the hell not? His appearance is odd, I grant you, but if it turns out he could use a psych eval, too - ”

“He came through the Gate.”

Henry jerks his head to look at her, alarmed.

“He what?”

“He came through the Gate,” Tessa says again, and she’s not sure why she says it, but as soon as she does, she knows it’s true.

“The Gate.” It is impossible for Henry’s eyebrows to rise any higher. “You can’t be serious. Those strange looking trees in the woods? The little fairy circle Gran always warned us away from as kids? You think, last night, it actually acted as, what, some kind of portal?”

“Gran warned us to stay away from it for a reason, Henry.”

“Yeah, I always thought the reason was she didn’t want us wandering too far away from the house. Not because it was real.”

“We of all people should not be surprised when magic in this world rears its head,” Tessa chides him gently. “You know the lore about All Hallow’s Eve and Samhain the same as I do. Gran would sit us right over there by the fire and tell us about spirits and fairies and the borders between worlds growing thin, magical things happening that wouldn’t be possible most other nights.”

Henry hands her a full mug of coffee that reads “Pritzker School of Law” on the side and firmly decides not to explore that particular topic any further.

“I’ll call out of the clinic today.”

“You will do no such thing.”

They both try to make it sound like they will brook no argument, but only Tessa pulls it off. Henry tries to protest anyway.

“Tee, you can’t be serious, I am not leaving you here with a strange, injured man, alone. Especially not after telling me you think he’s some kind of magical time-traveler from who the fuck knows when and where.”

“You are not shirking your responsibilities at the clinic to babysit me. You said it yourself, there’s not much we can do at this point besides wait for him to wake up, anyway.”

Henry runs his own small family practice, but he volunteers several times a month at the free clinic run by the county. Under absolutely no circumstances would she prevent him from spending the day caring for folks who need his help far more than she does.

“Besides, I’ll be fine. He won’t hurt me.”

Henry narrows his eyes at her.

“Are you telling me that? Or is your Gift?”

“It’s the truth, Hank.” And it is.

“You think this is it? The thing your Gift was telling you about?”

Tessa snorts. “I’m not sure yet, but I fucking hope so. I’d hate to see what else the universe has in store for me if it isn’t.”

Henry takes a long sip from his own mug, then sets it back down on the counter with a sense of resolve.

“I expect you to text me at least once an hour so I know you haven’t been murdered.”

“I will.”

“And I’ll be back as soon as my shift ends to check on you. And on him.”

“Of course.”

“If anything happens, call me. If I don’t answer, call the front desk and have them page me.”

“It’s so cute when you think you’re in charge of me.”

“Tess.”

“I’m teasing, jeez. I promise if anything goes wrong, you will be the first to know.”

“Good. And for the love of god, don’t tell Amie.”

Tessa rolls her eyes.

“Do I look like an idiot? It’s less than a month until the farm officially opens full-time for the season, she’s got enough on her plate. She doesn’t need a reason to go into ‘protective eldest sibling’ mode right now.”

“No she does not.” Henry eyes the green glowing numbers of the clock in Tessa’s microwave, still looking unsure about leaving. She reaches over and puts a hand on his arm.

“Henry, go. This isn’t where you’re needed most right now. And if it will make you feel better, I’ll call Aunt Moira.”

Henry nods. “You should.”

“I will.”

“She should know about this.”

“Did you not hear me when I said I would call her?”

“A text every hour or I’m sending the cops, understood?”

“You’re lucky my Gift isn’t telekinesis. Now go.”

———

The door shuts behind Henry, and Tessa is alone.

Well, sort of.

She runs a hand over her hair and exhales a big raspberry of a breath.

What now?

She finishes her coffee, leaving the mug in the sink for later.

She wipes up the lingering water the stranger had left on her floor when she’d first wrangled him inside. As the sun starts to make itself known, the sky remains cloudy, but the rain has since stopped, the storm blown over.

She changes from her pj pants and hoodie into leggings and a cozy sweater dress.

There are lots of other things she could do. Her unfinished to-do list from the day before still needs addressing. She has Halloween decor scattered around that needs to be taken down. She has boxes and boxes of Christmas decor sitting in the attic that she usually cannot wait to start putting up as soon as November rolls around.

She does none of those things.

Instead, she grabs the current book she’s reading from her nightstand and settles into the chair in the corner of her guest room.

She wonders if she’s being a bit creepy by just hanging out in the same room where her mysterious stranger still rests, dead to the world. But she figures she should be here when he wakes, in an unfamiliar place and in an unfamiliar time. To try and reassure him that he’s okay, he’s safe, and that there’s no cause for alarm.

The room is much lighter now than it was when she and Henry had first laid him out on the bed. Tessa lets herself take in the mop of dark, unruly curls that flop over his brow, the patchy stubble that covers his jaw and the fuller mustache across his upper lip. His nose is strong and slightly hooked, and he has a faded scar over his left eye. The rest of him is covered up by blankets now, but she can’t help but remember how broad his shoulders had looked, how solid his arms and back had felt under her hands when they’d gotten him out of his wet clothes.

Despite the wet dog smell and the fading bruising under his eye and the fact that he’s covered in several layers of dirt, sweat, and grime, he’s undeniably handsome in a rough, rogue-ish, Viggo-Mortensen-in-Lord-of-the-Rings kind of way.

She isn’t worried that she’s in any danger here alone here with him. She hadn’t lied to Henry.

It was frustrating, her magic. Her siblings had active Gifts; they could call on them when they needed to, wield them like tools to shape the world around them. Tessa’s simply was. She could never predict when or how it might surface, a vague feeling in her gut, a prickle in her bones. A bubble of knowledge she hadn’t had a moment earlier, but once spoken out loud she can feel the surety of truth snapping into place like correctly matched puzzle pieces.

He came through the Gate.

When she meets someone for the first time, it usually gives her a general feel for the person, a sense of their character, their being. Tessa knew what a bad person felt like, the greasy feeling of selfishness and greed, or the hot, sharp warning of a desire to do harm.

He won’t hurt me.

She reads for a bit, looking up every few minutes to make sure she can still see the stranger’s chest rising and falling.

She fires off one “still alive” text to her brother, then another. She makes a little more progress on her book.

By hour three, one of her legs has fallen asleep, and she’s actually starting to get slightly annoyed at the mystery man.

“If you’re going to break multiple laws of physics and time, the least you could do is be conscious while you take advantage of my hospitality,” she grumbles at him, albeit very quietly.

She gets up and takes a closer look at his clothes and belongings they’d stacked on the dresser. She fiddles with the two swords for a moment, admiring how much heavier they are than she’d anticipated, before turning to the little pouch tied to his belt. Inside she finds a handful of silver coins with irregular edges, each stamped with the design of a Greek cross. And something else, too, some sort of...necklace?

The angry grunt of an unintelligible sentence from behind her makes her nearly jump out of her skin. Tessa whirls around, both coins and jewelry making small ting sounds as they clatter on the dresser.

The stranger is awake.

Awake, and staring at her as she rifles through his things.

“Uh, hi,” she says, years of debate and public speaking and experience as a litigator apparently flying right the fuck out the window.

He glares silently at her in response.

“I, uh, I was just looking, you know, at, at your stuff,” she tries again. “I wasn’t going to do anything with it, I promise. Except maybe try and google the coins, see if I could find out more about when they were made, and when you might be from. Cause you were still passed out, and I didn’t want to wake you, and I think you might have come here from a different time - ”

She finally takes a breath and approaches him, hands held slightly out in front of her like she’s trying not to scare off a wild animal.

“Sorry,” she says softly, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. “I don’t mean to overwhelm you right off the bat. How do you feel? You were out for quite a while.”

He says something in response, but it’s not in a language she recognizes.

“I’m afraid I can’t understand you, buddy.”

He repeats himself, or at least she thinks he does. It almost sounds like Spanish, but there’s something vaguely Latin about some of the pronunciation. A dialect of some kind, maybe?

Fuck. This was a complication Tessa had not considered.

“This is gonna be a lot more difficult if we can’t communicate with each other,” she tells him.

The next thing he says to her is a question, based on his intonation. When she doesn’t give any indication she understood him, he asks her again in what is clearly a different language from the first one he tried.

One she cannot understand, but thinks she recognizes, thanks to a semester in college spent studying Beowulf using a translation alongside the original text.

Old English. A language no one has spoken in almost a thousand years.

She swallows thickly at the implication of that and shakes her head. “It seems you know more languages than I do, stranger, but none of them are ones I know.”

There’s a hint of concern in his stare now, as he must come to the same conclusion she has about their predicament. His eyes are brown, she notices.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but is suddenly overcome by a small coughing fit instead.

“Oh, shit, here - ” Tessa helps him sit up and hands him a glass of water that’s been waiting on the bedside table. He drains it in one go, nodding at her in thanks.

Tessa takes a moment to get an internal grip on herself. She can do this. She can figure this out. This man needs her help, even if he doesn’t quite realize the extent of his situation yet. This grumpy, injured man who did not speak or understand any discernible modern language and who was clearly way, way out of his own time.

“We should at least be able to tell each other our names,” she tells him. She jabs two fingers into her sternum, holding his gaze, and says, “Tessa. Tessa Walsh.”

She flips her hand towards him and looks at him expectantly, hoping it’s obvious what she wants.

He looks at her for a moment, then slowly rests his hand on his own chest. “Pero Tovar.”

Tessa can’t help the way she smiles at him then. “Pero,” she murmurs softly, trying to shape his name the same way he had with his accent and hoping she doesn’t fuck it up too badly. “Pero Tovar.”

Something flickers across his face, a millisecond of emotion she doesn’t get a good enough look at to identify.

“Tessa,” he says, and she has to suppress a shiver at how he makes it sound, his plush, full lips wrapping around the syllables of her name. “Tessa Walsh.”

A little bud of triumph blooms in her chest. “Okay,” she says, “that’s one thing we know about each other, then.”

———

Tessa grabs Pero a second glass of water, and it seems to slowly become clear to him that something isn’t right, that there are things about her home, just about this room, even, that are not what he would expect from his own time. She sees him looking closely or even running his hands over things she’d never even think of as being foreign, like the clear, perfectly round glass he drinks from, or the bright floral print on the extra blanket tossed over his feet, or the little battery-powered clock on the nightstand.

He pushes the blanket back and tries to stand up. He wobbles on his feet for one perilous moment, and Tessa doesn’t hesitate to reach out and steady him. His bare torso carries more scars, several white and red lines of tissue bisecting the outline of muscle under his skin and interrupting the light dusting of hair across his chest. But after a few seconds to get his bearings, he seems alright without her help.

Tessa tells herself that she is not disappointed by that fact. She makes an educated guess about what he needs, and shows him to her spare bathroom.

Things get further complicated here. There had been no need to have any lights on in the bedroom, but there aren’t any windows in the bathroom, so Tessa crosses her fingers as she flips the lightswitch. There’s not a simple way for Tessa to convey the concept of electricity and running water and all the things in her home that they make possible via hand gestures, so she resorts to simply explaining things to him in English anyway, hoping that a calm, deliberate tone of voice will help ease the anxiety of the unfamiliar for him. For his part, Pero processes what information he can with a mostly silent stoicism that Tessa knows she would not be able to emulate for a second if their situations were reversed. After a bit of awkward pantomime and a little show and tell with various faucets, she thinks she gets him to understand the relative functions of the sink, shower, and toilet.

She brings him an extra towel and a change of clothes that Henry had dropped off earlier, and leaves him to it. She lingers outside the doorway until she hears the shower turn on, then retreats into the kitchen.

Her mystery man - Pero - occupied for the moment, she calls her Aunt Moira.

Aunt Moira is actually her Great-Aunt Moira, but nobody with any sense of self- preservation ever calls her that. After Gran had died, she’d inherited the title of the family matriarch, which in Tessa’s family meant that when something odd and magical happened, you called.

“Somebody better be in the hospital or something better be on fire for you to call this early, Tessa,” she grouses by way of greeting.

Tessa is uncowed by her tone. “It’s almost noon, Aunt Moira.”

The older woman hmphs into the phone.

“It’s the day after Halloween, kid. This is early for the day after Halloween. I was up all night celebrating. Honoring the ancestors and whatnot.”

Playing bridge and drinking too much gin with her fellow octogenarian friends is hardly a traditional method of observing this particular holiday, but Tessa doesn’t say that out loud. Moira had been spending Halloween this way with a group of lifelong girlfriends every year since before Tessa had been born.

“Who hosted this year?”

“Ethel. You know it’s already below freezing here in Minneapolis? I don’t know how the woman can live here year-round.”

“Moira, you live one house over from me. In Michigan. There’s a non-zero chance we’ll get lake effect snow, like, next week.”

“Yeah, well, next week is next week, and today is today, and today I’m freezing my tits off in Minneapolis.”

“When do you get home?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Fuck,” Tessa mutters, but not quietly enough.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Moira’s tone softens with concern.

The water is still running in the shower.

“I need your help.” Tessa explains the events of the past few hours as quickly as she can.

“Damn,” Moira says when she’s finished. “This would happen while I’m away. Lived on the other side of those damn woods my whole life and never seen anything more interesting than deer come out of them before.”

“I think he’s traveled here from a long time ago. I mean a long time ago.”

“And a long distance too, no doubt. Nobody ever spoke Old English on this continent.”

“So you see why I’m in need of your particular talents.”

“I’ll see if I can’t get home sooner than tomorrow. But if I can’t, will you be okay until then?”

“This is far from the scariest thing I’ve ever done, Moira.”

Tessa swears she can hear her aunt purse her lips.

“That is not what I asked you, Tessa Elizabeth.”

Annoyed affection swells in her chest.

“I’ll be fine.”

———

It takes less time than Tessa had anticipated for Pero to emerge, dressed in a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants. Tessa wonders if this is all too new for him to truly relax and enjoy something like a hot shower.

He stands in the threshold where the hallway to the bedrooms ends, looking around her kitchen and the main living room it opens into. Even in modern clothing there’s something off about him, like he doesn’t belong in the current year. There’s something in the way he stands, maybe, or perhaps it’s the unmissable scar across his left eye, that makes him look mismatched to the present time.

She’s not exactly sure what she’s supposed to do with Pero for the next twenty hours or so until Moira can get there, but she’s damn sure of the immediate next step.

Food. And if there is one thing Tessa Walsh knows how to do, it’s feed people.

“Hi, Pero,” Tessa says brightly, watching him from her spot near the stove. She’s defrosted a container of homemade tomato soup from a batch she’d made last week and is now standing guard over a pair of grilled cheese sandwiches sizzling quietly in a pan.

He just gives her a tiny nod in response.

“I made lunch,” she says, “I figured you’re probably hungry.”

He wanders over to her, intrigued by the smell. And, she suspects, by the way she’s cooking something hot via something other than a fire. If she had to guess, she’d say he’s an inch or so taller than Henry; she has to look up quite a bit to meet his eye. A few spare drops of water cling to the ends of his curls.

“It’s almost ready,” she tells him. “You can go sit, if you want. Probably shouldn’t be on your feet too long, take things slow.” She points at him, then at the table, chairs, and built-in bench that serve as her breakfast nook in the corner. He takes her meaning and sits.

A few minutes later she puts a bowl of soup and its corresponding sandwich (cut diagonally) in front of each of them. She briefly considers the cans of Coke in the back of her fridge, but opts instead to fill up two more glasses of water. Pero may not be showing it, but he’s got to be pretty overwhelmed as it is. If indoor plumbing is new to him, soda is definitely going to be a shock.

“Bon appetit,” she says, clinking her glass against his before picking up her sandwich and dunking a corner of it into the soup.

He looks at her, then down at his plate, and picks up his own sandwich to follow suit. At his first bite, he makes a noise, eyes closing and brow furrowing in a combination of pleasure and surprise.

Tessa can’t help but grin at him.

“Good, right?” She says. “There’s no food as comforting as grilled cheese and tomato soup, I swear. My mom used to make it for me whenever I would stay home sick.”

After that first bite, however, Pero polishes off his food in record time, mopping up every last drop of soup with the last bite of sandwich so quickly Tessa isn’t sure he actually was able to taste any of it. He’s done before Tessa’s gotten through even half her sandwich, and she catches him eyeing the triangle of golden brown bread still untouched on her plate, perfectly melted cheese oozing from between the slices. There’s something a little feral, a little desperate in his gaze, that says he wants her food but doesn’t want to be obvious about it.

She pushes her plate over to him. He looks at her first with guilt at being caught out, then with suspicion, like he thinks there’s going to be some sort of catch, and it breaks her heart a little. He shakes his head the tiniest bit, and tries to push the plate back to her. He jerks his chin at her, as if to say, you need to eat, too.

But he’s still hungry. Tessa can see it, and she wonders what his life has been like, what he’s had to endure.

She picks up the sandwich half and deposits it directly on his plate this time instead. He scowls at her, and perhaps it’s because he thinks she’s taking pity on him. So she drops her chin into her hand, and looks at him with a firm, deliberate kindness.

“Don’t argue with me, Pero,” she says. “People don’t go hungry in this kitchen. Not when this house belonged to my grandmother and not now that it belongs to me.”

His frown deepens. She quirks an eyebrow at him instead.

“That’s a very intimidating look you’ve got going on there, Pero. Is that the look you use to instill fear into your enemies right before you gut them with those two pointy swords you carry around?”

It becomes a brief staring contest. Tessa meets Pero’s gaze head-on, and after a few moments, with a small huff through his nose, Pero relents, attacking the remaining sandwich half with vigor.

———

The rest of the afternoon passes surprisingly quickly. It’s clear that Pero is still exhausted and still healing. He settles on her couch after giving the contents of the shelves built into either side of the fireplace a cursory inspection (which are filled to bursting with books and the occasional framed family photo). He ends up nodding off, which gives Tessa a few hours to get some work done.

This work includes updating the post that should have gone up on her site yesterday and hitting “publish.”

It includes texting Henry to let him know she is still not dead, and to successfully convince him that he should come over to check on Pero tomorrow after Moira’s had a chance to come by, instead of today.

It does not include answering the emails.

The house is quiet in a way Tessa typically cannot stand. Normally she’d always have music playing or the tv on. There are lots of things Tessa loves about living alone, but being alone with the silence is not one of them. How ironic, then, that today, she doesn’t dare turn on her usual background noise out of concern for her mostly silent visitor. She finds after a while that she doesn’t mind it terribly much, though. It could easily be unnerving, having Pero - who is still a time-traveling stranger - take a catnap on her couch. But instead, she finds it oddly comforting knowing that he’s there, and that she can hear the occasional snore emanating from the cushions.

As quietly as she can, Tessa also gathers up the fall decor around the house: tiny decorative pumpkins on the mantle, orange and purple string lights in the window, cute wooden signs leaning up on her kitchen counters that say things like the witch is in. Once it’s all back in its designated plastic tub, she retreats to the hallway and pulls down the ladder that allows her to access her attic. Once up there she stores the fall bin away and looks fondly at the pile of plastic tubs that hold wreaths and garland and lights and ornaments. Soon, she mouths at them.

She starts thinking about dinner as she makes her way back down the ladder. There’s chicken in her fridge somewhere, she’s pretty sure. Some solid protein would do Pero some good -

She’s four rungs from the bottom when her foot slips. The hand she flings out to steady herself misses, and with a yelp of surprise she tumbles backward -

And crashes into something solid and unyielding, something that lets out an annoyed grunt at the impact.

Pero.

He catches her before she can hit the ground, wrapping his arms around her and for a moment, she’s cradled against his chest. Even in just a thin shirt, he’s warm, and then he puts both hands on her waist and sets her back on her feet with hardly any effort at all.

Tessa clears her throat to cover her embarrassment at both falling and the heat that licks up her spine and floods her face at Pero’s fortuitous manhandling.

“Thanks,” she manages to squeak.

He grumbles something that may or may not translate to the world’s grouchiest “you’re welcome” before heading into the bathroom and shutting the door.

Right. What was she thinking about before?

Oh, yes. Dinner.

———

Half an hour later she and Pero sit down to chicken breasts wrapped with prosciutto and stuffed with goat cheese, and brussel sprouts sauteed in olive oil and soy sauce until charred and crispy.

Pero inhales the meal again in record time (“I wish I could get my niece and nephews to eat their veggies with half that enthusiasm,” Tessa remarks as he practically swallows a brussel sprout whole). The cuts on his forehead and hand have completely healed over, the skin still a bright new pink. What swelling he had in one eye had lessened, and the bruising around it has gone from inky black to fading yellow-green. All evidence of her brother’s influence.

Tessa makes Pero help her wash the dishes this time, which he does without audible complaint. For as much as she loves to cook, Tessa despises doing dishes, and it’s actually nice to have another pair of hands around to get the job done.

As though by some unspoken signal, Pero and Tessa decide to head to bed at the same time. They find themselves at the end of the hall, doors to their respective rooms across from each other. Tessa turns to Pero, wanting to say something, but she’s not sure what. Some reassurance, maybe, that her Aunt Moira will be here tomorrow and she’ll help figure out what to do next. That they will get him home.

But before she can, he reaches out and takes her hand in his own, swiftly lifting it up to brush his lips across her knuckles. He breathes some phrase against her skin, and she can just make out her name at the end before he releases her and steps away, looking as surly as ever, like he’s a little angry with himself for what he’s just done.

“Goodnight, Pero,” is all Tessa is able to murmur in reply, her throat gone suddenly dry, and he gives her a tiny nod before turning away and disappearing into the guest room.

She shuts her own door behind her, leaning back up against it and letting all the breath in her lungs out in a big whoosh.

When she finally falls asleep that night, Tessa dreams of dark eyes and soft lips on her skin.

Chapter 3.

—————————————————————

a/n: Remember how I said all recipes I mention in this story are from Smitten Kitchen unless otherwise noted? Prosciutto-wrapped stuffed chicken is from Chrissy Teigen, and the brussel sprouts are how I make them. 😊

Tagging interested parties (some of you have explicitly asked to be tagged, while others just indicated they’re interested in reading where this story goes, so if you would not like to be directly tagged, please let me know!): @littlemisspascal @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @whataperfectwasteoftime @oonajaeadira @bunniesofsteel @jazzelsaur @ezrasbirdie @kiizhikehn-cedar @hopeamarsu @iamskyereads @thosewickedlovelies @theredwritingwitch

[vanitas-no-carter-fanfics]

Date?

“I’m sorry… what!” ”Please (Name) I-I can’t stand him! He irritates me so much. You are the only one that he somewhat listens to!” ”Oh and you think he doesn’t irritate me at all? The boy is an egotistical lunatic, not to mention a walking hypocrite” “(Name) please, for me” “Jeanne…” (Name) started before she say the short-haired vampiresses get on her knees to beg “Fine! Fine but you owe me big time”

***

Here was (Name) another vampiress sanding by poster and flyer board waiting for Vanitas to show up. According to Jeanne, the human self-claimed vampire doctor was seeing her appearance in meet of some matter at a certain location and time. Unknowingly to (Name), this was all some kind of setup with some truth. In reality, Jeanne had asked Vanitas in an anonymous letter delivered to him arranging a meetup, the problem was the hellfire witch got cold feet and wanted to bail her attempt of getting him uninterested at the suggestion of Dominique; Instead, Jeanne thought it would be a better idea to have Vanitas to find interest in someone else, someone that could get some kind of reaction out of him.

(Name) stood leaning against the board until she heard a voice call her name, as she turned she saw a note between his fingers holding a smug smirk but it was quickly accompanied with an arch of a brow “(Name)? My, my I was half expected it to be someone else sending me this anonymous letter of helpless urgency” came his teasing tone “I beg your pardon?” She said frowning deeply at his comment “No need to be coy. It’s just us, no need to be on guard on our date” “D-Date?!” The vampiress said raising her voice 

“…” silence between the two until “…!!!”

The two pointed at one another with the color draining from their face, both deceived they both grey shy having misinterpreted the situation. Vanitas was the first to break their state of embarrassment

”….Well… we could always make use of this ‘arranged meeting’ that is if you have any errands you need help with”

“…I had a free day, and I did my errands two days back”

“… do you have any errands to run today, Vanitas?”

“…nope…”

An awkward silence fell amongst the two yet again. (Name) became flustered due to the silence and the sheer awkwardness that was being shared at that moment between the two. Vanitas on the other hand managed to uphold his facade in-tacked of feeling bored of the conversation, but the reality was he felt very nervous at that moment. He tried to suggest that he could accompany her with errands so the day wasn’t wasted and that part of him was curious what it would be like to spend some quality time one-on-one

“(Name), I’m curious. What do you even do on your free days?” Vanitas asked trying to build some kind of conversation “Oh… well not much, I usually stay home relaxing and reading a good book and listening to some records,” she said with a soft smile at his attempts “Well how about we go to a bookstore and I buy you a book. As an apology for the trouble” “I couldn’t let you do that, I mean you also came all this way. At least allow me to do the same for you, my treat to you”(Name) held a warm smile.

Her misconception of him had shifted, she found herself rather enjoying his attempts of civil conversations. She could only think that he was insufferable when he was around the others, granted it was rather childish in behavior. Vanitas felt his body tense as he stared at her smile, he was a little shocked; most times (Name) was always serious and always in thought but she was always someone who observed and only showed occasional moments of warmth and tenderness, so there was a sense of pride in him at the notion of the warmth was directed to himself.

“How about later on if you are still up for it we could go and grab a drink together. One drink and that’s it” Vanitas told her with a smile “A drink? But it's only 9 in the morning, bars aren't even open serving alcohol right now” (Name) said with a frown “It Donets have to be alcoholic, we could go and get some coffee if that is what you prefer” he laughed lightly “or—“ He leaned into her ear as he let his breath fan against her skin “if you would prefer, you could have a taste of my blood” As the last words left his mouth and (Name) began to process his words as he spoke her face flushed a deep red. As you may know, the act of drinking blood is something that can be in some cases a sensual act that leaves the body aroused, and from the girl talk (Name) would have with Jeanne; Vanitas seems to get a kick out of being drunken from. But back to the situation at hand; at that moment (Name) finally understood how Jeanne felt when Vanitas would tease and flirt in a way that could take even the stoic of women’s knees to buckle.

(Name) pushed him away and scolded him for his suggestion but none the less she agreed to a coffee and just coffee with him, nothing more or less.

-

-

As the morning turned to afternoon the two found each other’s company relaxing and very natural; before the two knew it, it was evening and they were making way over to a tavern that had entertainment and drinks. The two talked endlessly about books and their own adventures, in their conversing Vanitas found that (Name) had a past where she worked as an informant of sorts and she still continues that work but on the down-low for both humans and vampires. As the evening dragged into the night the two drinking managed their way to Altus Paris; at first, Vanitas was reluctant due to the mishap he created with Lord Ruthven in regards to her majesty, but when things took a turn and (Name)’s manner changed he throughout his logic

In the heat of the moment (Name) had the human boy’s back against her home door as his lips moved against his, her body pressed against his as she fiddled with her keys to open the door. There was some kind of excitement in Vanitas to have (Name) take dominance but he was well aware of the physical power she held for being a vampire but he wanted to dominate her; The door opened and Vanitas started to work on getting his coat he lent her. (Name) started to take off his bow after unbuttoning his vest, that was until she pulled back from the kiss but her eyes fixated on his exposed skin. There was no silence in the room, only their heavy breathing filled the room. (Name) stepped back hesitantly ”What?” He huffed out before stepping towards her “Maybe this is a bad idea,” she said blushing. The only thing stopping her is the tightness in her throat, it was common for vampires to have the instinct to drink blood when feeling a high amount of pleasure; what added to this strong urge was that any vampire could tell that Vanitas’ blood was something all were curious of, the fact his heart was pounding with anticipation the scent was stronger and that worried her “We both want this,” he said his voice low and hot as he dropped his shirt and vest of the ground pooled behind him as he placed a hand on her cheek.

(Name) felt the way his hand felt against her skin and it made her intake a sharp breath of air as she leaned into his touch. she looked at him her eyes flashing almost a magenta color, that was something that took his interest, but right now he wanted to dominate (Name). He crashed his lips onto hers a hand snaking their way around her waist pulling her against him, (Name) had her hands on his chest her nails lightly scratching. He opened up her blouse before placing kisses against her neck, it made her shiver with delight and excitement; granted she knew he wasn’t and couldn’t bite her the way any vampire could if she chose to but his kisses and light nips gave her the excitement she wanted. Vanitas led her to her dining table by her large window and laid her against it, she broke into a dark blush at the location; she was half expecting the couch or to her own room. She sat up a little to protest until she saw how Vanitas knelt down as he gathered her skirt up to her thighs, he placed soft kisses up from her knee towards her inner thigh. She shivered noticeably, he could see the way her legs trembled slightly as he saw goosebumps appear; when he looked up he saw her face flushed red with alluring magenta eyes staring down at him.

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For now, I will leave this as is. I will make a continuation where it will be more heavily Smut involved. But I hope you are all enjoying this so far, I noticed a lack of Vanitas x reader for this anime/manga so here is some ‘sinful’ content for you all 

[emeren]

bloodlust ☤ 1

taglist  ☤  masterlist  ☤  archive of our own  ☤  next chapter >> 

“The devil and I get along just fine...”

Pairing: Fem!reader x Vampire!Eren 

Word Count: 5.1 k 

Chapter Warnings: Blood, anxiety

Chapter Summary: Reader, a nurse, finds themselves facing a fanged beast, unsure what to make of the world. But this devil with dark hair may not have the intentions you think. 

☤ this work of fiction deals with vampires. in turn, there will be discussions of blood and minimal gore. it will also include nsfw content in the near future. all chapters will be marked appropriately☤

Moonlight soaked the path towards his freedom. It danced and reflected off of the dew coated blades of grass. Each one emulated a life he planned to save, with the destruction of his  people and the protection of the person he cared for most in the world. She had yet to materialize into something more than the soft breeze of a memory.

He was hungry; the tortuous cry of his instinct to ravage told him so. However, years of training and restraint had yielded him more than capable of swallowing his own desire. The one thing he sought most weighed heavier than impotent monstrous actions. For his goal, he could resist the craving to release his sharpened fangs.

He allowed his eyes one last glance over the house he’d called home for the past four years; dark and gloomy against the stormy night sky. Soon, those who’d chained him in shackles and dragged him to the cellar would be amiss in panic. Wrought iron bars that once caged his devilish soul would be found empty. A beast was on the run.

He felt brief sorrow for those he would hurt in the process of securing their freedom from a pained existence. But he’d made up his mind. All that was left to do was to head north.

His nimble hands pulled the dark hood of his coat above his head. He took one deep breath, the entrancing smell of rain and dirt wafting through the air.

North, to the person that occupied his past, present, and future. To freedom.

☤    ☤    ☤

You considered yourself well suited to the role you’d decided to serve for the rest of your life. Time spent meticulously memorizing health patterns and disease characteristics had broadened your sense of confidence. Doubt rarely ever plagued your mind past the childish decision of what to eat for breakfast in the morning.

Nursing had not always been your final destination in life; the unprecedented scared you enough to mark healthcare as a profession to avoid. Losing two parents unexpectedly in high school due to a mysterious illness had been enough to change your once convinced mind.

Your rain jacket was slick with the slight precipitation clouding the late night sky as you entered the hospital locker room -- a weak cup of coffee in hand, marred with a ring of chapstick residue against the lip. Night shifts were often greeted with unrelenting misery on your behalf.

“You look excited to be here,” The familiar tone of your coworker hummed from behind you. There seemed no force strong enough to concur surprise in your unrested eyes. Historia was someone who lacked a certain fear factor in most aspects of her being, anyways.

“I didn’t see you when I came in, Historia,” You answered, eyes glancing over your shoulder to take in the blonde-haired nurse. Despite having walked in the rain the same as you, her demeanor was much more spritely.

She gave you a smile, following you towards your adjacent lockers. “Ah, I came in the back entrance today.”

“You’re awfully chipper for someone who’s working the night shift,” Your half-assed attempt at being friendly mingled with the clammer of your locker. Historia chuckled softly from behind her door.

“I prefer the night shift, actually. Isn’t this your third night on?” She asked. You slipped your wet jacket from your shoulders, shaking it slightly before hanging it in the metal box.

“Yeah, it is. Can’t say I enjoy it as much as you do,” You lightly closed the door, Historia doing the same. Overt kindness wasn’t a trait you claimed when burnt out on work; she knew this and gave you no foul for it.

Her blue eyes crinkled in the ghost of a smile. “Not a creature of the night, hm?”

“I’m no vampire, that’s for sure,” You chuckled. Historia’s smile faltered slightly. It came as no surprise that she was afraid of monsters and ghouls. You decided to change the subject in her favor. “Speaking of, I hear it’s a full moon tonight.”

“Oh?” Her eyes widened, coy smirk wiggling its way back onto her blushed cheeks. Despite your adverse to the unknown, you enjoyed indulging in childish hospital rumors. The notion that weird cases spiked on nights when the moon was full in the sky was a tale as old as time; strange people flooded the hospitals, with even stranger injuries and illnesses. Or so that was what people said, not that you’d ever experienced it yourself. “I wonder if anything crazy will happen tonight.”

“Doubt it,” You stepped aside, allowing her to match your stride as the two of you headed towards the conference room for a briefing before the shift. She hummed in agreement, the rest of the walk done in a comfortable silence.

The room for debriefing was a mundane conference set up. The walls were a bleached white; anatomy posters and warnings about the harmful nature of cigarettes decorating the walls. An oval desk surrounded by blue, plastic chairs took up most of the room. It smelled like microwaved Kraft, courtesy of a nurse scarfing down a last helping before their shift started.

“That’s odd,” Historia frowned, blue eyes tracing the room. Staff sat around in quiet huddles, most silently waiting for the briefing to start. She glanced down at her watch before nudging you in the arm. “Where’s Doctor Smith? We start in two minutes.”

The tall, burly man was never late for a briefing; his stoic nature didn’t allow room for such a lack. He had never given you a reason to doubt his trust, but something about his demeanor made you uneasy. He commanded a room with such conviction that your coworkers fell to his feet with unadulterated respect; you, a mindless sheep following their lead. Rational thought would’ve placed your discomfort on his position of power and his role as your boss. Simply put, however, he gave you the creeps.

The plastic chair skidded against the polished floor as you took your seat at the table beside Historia. The older staff coughed and occasionally grumbled, filling the tired silence with a sense of annoyance. Your blonde coworker sensed your gripe, elbowing you in the ribs and leaving a crease in your lilac scrubs. You suppressed a smile.

“Pardon me,” Doctor Smith’s commanding voice echoed through the room before he stepped in the doorway. Your muscles tensed; back straightening as if to give the illusion that you hadn’t been hunched over, looking exhausted and miserable. His blond hair was perfectly sculpted; not a strand out of place and not a wrinkle in his blue dress shirt. His lab coat was almost a sickeningly bleached titanium. “Sorry for my tardiness; I was dealing with an emergency back home.”

Historia shifted beside you.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” He gave a terse smile before picking his clipboard off of the table and flipping through the papers. “Looks like we’ve got the regular scheduling for this evening. As usual, the night shift staffing is lighter than our other shifts, so remember to be vigilant and take action without being told to.”

You tended to tune out the mundane precautions and warnings that were part of a pre-shift briefing. Outside the window, rain pattered against the glass pane. The shower provided a sense of comfort; rain often preceded a night spent inside, wrapped in blankets with a mug of hot tea. Though your current schedule didn’t allow room for such indulgence, you took a small delight in the weather condition.

Historia bumped your knee with her own under the table. You glanced at your friend, slightly alarmed from your daze. She leaned over, attempting to discreetly whisper in your ear. “He looks distracted tonight, hm? Wonder what that’s about.”

Your eyes glanced at Doctor Smith, who was reading through the clipboard with a staccato like urgency. Not wanting to cause any disturbance, you nodded your head in agreement.

“We’ll follow through with our regular assignments. If you don’t know where you’re located this evening, I suggest checking the bulletin in the locker room. As for this meeting, you’re all free to go,” His blue irises scanned the faces of all the employees, searching for confusion or questions to be answered. You averted your gaze, following suit as the rest of the room erupted in moving chairs and shuffling scrubs.

You already knew where you were working for the night; the same place as the last two, over in the geriatrics wing. This night would be the same as the others, not that you were in any place to be upset about that.

“Y/N!” Historia’s voice called you to look over your shoulder, barely out of the conference room. She had a slimy smile on her face; the kind that reeked of favors and avoidance. You felt the need to control your eyebrow from rising in annoyance. “Can I ask you something?”

You exhaled from your nose. “Shoot.”

“I have a patient in room 702 that I was assigned to,” The slightest batting of her mascara slicked lashes, blue irises working their hardest to win you over. You raised your eyebrows, urging her to continue. The other staff shuffled by you, sparing nosy glances. “I was wondering if you could take it? I’ll work in the geriatrics wing tonight for you.”

You had to give it to the tiny woman; for all she was worth, she was great at getting people to do what she wanted. You valued her responsibility and reliability, and she’d proved to be a friendly presence in the workplace. However, that didn’t stop you from seeing the selfish underbelly of her prosperous actions.

“What’s the patient in for?” You humored her. Even if her request was self-fulfilling, you figured might as well use it to your own advantage. Almost anything beat another night in geriatrics changing diapers and administering pill dosages.

“A blood transfusion,” She responded, smiling softly at you. “I’m not very good with bloody things, you know. Easily squeamish.”

You pretended to ponder whether or not to take her up on her offer. It was an easy choice, really. “Yeah, sure. What blood type are they?”

☤   ☤   ☤

The stand rattled unpleasantly against the tiled ground as you stopped in front of room 702. The thick bag of blood shook slightly from the sudden stop. How Historia had ever become a nurse when grossed out with the concept of blood, you weren’t sure. It seemed that her sweet disposition often aided her in whatever situation she needed to change for the better. You were an adult woman though, so whatever her motivations might’ve been didn’t concern you.

You gave the cart a once over, making sure all the necessary tools and items were there: a needle, an IV, gauze, those sorts of things. Blood transfusions were a typically fussless procedure; tediously watching the red liquid pump itself into the body.

Your knuckles lightly knocked on the door. “Hello, I’m here to give you your blood transfusion!”

Silence, beating through the empty hallway of the hospital. The lights were dimmed and eerily abandoned. You waited for ten seconds before opening the door to the sleepy room.

The heavy door creaked open, revealing he who was to be given blood. Historia had mentioned he was a John Doe, lying unconscious on the bleached sheets. You turned back to grab your cart, not bothering to be quiet. He’d be awake soon enough, anyway.

As you wheeled it in, your back was to the patient. The cart squeaked and rattled, stopping at the foot of the bed. You turned around, ready to rouse him from his slumber.

Beautiful.

You’d had attractive patients before. Both men and women who floated by life with the easy wings of accurately placed facial features to boost them up. A pretty face often had heat rising to your cheeks, but professionalism stopped you from thinking any further. Natural biological responses couldn’t be helped, after all.

Never had a patient left your lips parting in awe, heart drumming up it’s own beat of excitement in your chest. His face was slim; sharp jawline and a large, broad nose peeking out into the air. Pale cheeks barely dusted by the pink of an almost intangible blush. His eyelashes were long and thick, jutting out against the purple hue of his impossibly dark circles. Hair the color of old driftwood swirled and bunched on his pillow. He had to have been one of the most attractive people you’d ever treated, let alone seen.

What color were his eyes? Were they a dark brown, one to match the nature of his hair color? Or were they green, contrasting his pale skin? You began to feel eager to find out, more excited to know and learn as your gloved hand gripped his broad shoulder. You frowned at the frigid temperature of his skin.

“Excuse me, sir,” You gently shook, trying not to give away the way your body was reacting. There was no place for hormonal displays in your line of work, and despite his undeniable beauty, you were determined to remain professional.

His eyelids snapped open with such a speed you had to compose yourself not to trip backwards. Contrary to what you thought, his irises were a pale, almost sickly greyish blue. They held no gleam; no life behind them. Disturbance washed over your brain, warning bells going off in your mind. He looks slightly… feral?

He jolted upwards, confusion knotted on his once peaceful face. You stumbled backwards slightly, hip clipping on the cart.

“Who are you?” His voice was gravelly, as if it hadn’t been used in quite some time. Blue eyes stared at you with such an uncertainty it made your head spin.

“I’m your nurse, I’m here to give you your blood transfusion,” You gestured towards the cart and stand, a red bag hanging from it like a token of peace. Despite his prickly reaction, you weren’t frightened.

“I feel like I’ve met you before,” He said, eyes squinted. Analyzing you, trying to pick apart your being, yet there you stood before him, a marvel to be held. He briefly glanced to the side; not more than a millisecond were his eyes off you before they were back, filled with unadulterated panic. “Where- where is Historia?”

You frowned, a little perturbed. “She asked to swap-”

“I need you to leave, now.” He growled, voice deep and authoritative. You widened your gaze, taken aback by his demanding request. The sheet fell from around his shoulders, bare chest exposed. Large hands raced to his face, hiding the features you’d once considered beautiful. “Get out of here!”

“Are you alright?” You panicked, stepping closer to the bed. His large form began shaking, knees drawing towards his chest from under the blanket. He appeared to be in pain; like a wounded animal.

“Fuck,” He yelled, breathing becoming labored. There wasn’t time to ponder. Was he having a panic attack? Was he going into shock? Questions didn’t need to be asked, you just knew that you needed to act. “I said leave!”

“No, I need to help you with whatever-” His hand shot off of his face, long, black claws sharpening from his fingers. You became fear stricken, his palm connecting with your chest. It sent you stumbling backwards, tripping over the wire to the heart monitor and slamming into the wall with your back. Tendrils of pain clamored up your spine.

“Close your eyes,” He rose from the bed, both hands dropping from his face. You couldn’t see his eyes, fist clutching your scrubs above your heart. Uncertainty. Terror, facing death like this. A monster stood before you, created by the devil himself. Tall, foreboding, chest heaving. His neck snapped upwards; wide, red eyes piercing into your thinly veiled soul. He spoke something like a garbled beast. “Promise me you’ll close your eyes.”

You didn’t respond. There were no words to be spoken. Between his pink lips glinted a pair of large, sharp incisors. “Promise!”

You reverberated with his words, wincing and shutting your eyes involuntarily. He didn’t want you to watch as he slaughtered you. “I-I promise!”

The loud clamor of metal colliding with the polished floor had you breaking your promise mere seconds after it’d been made.

He stood, illuminated by the fluorescent bulbs like an angel ascending to heaven. The bag, once an object you’d believed to be a healing beacon, clutched between clawed hands. His teeth, bare to the world, puncturing the thick plastic as though it were paper.

His adam’s apple bobbed rhythmically as he swallowed mouthfuls of thick, red blood. It was as if he’d been starved; knees buckling and desperate blood sucking so intense that his legs could no longer support his body weight. He knelt on the once clean floor.

The twine that connected your sense of reality and rationale had been pulled taut -- pieces of the frayed string snapping and threatening to drop you into depths unknown. Uncertainty had always been a foreign concept; you’d been given the option to study your circumstance and fully conceptualize it before going head first into a situation.

That’s what had intrigued you about being a nurse; though the job seemed like a bull in a china shop, you’d learned every reason why or how that bull ended up there and what exactly you needed to do to get it out.

You lacked the expertise or even the understanding to handle this particular situation. What studying could’ve been done? Reading horror stories or watching Twilight as a teenager with your friends? Even then, the probability of this happening to you felt like it should’ve been a zero percent chance.

You liked knowing what to do. Thrived on it, actually. This man, tall and dangerous, presented you with no opportunity to know. There was no textbook on how to handle a vampire, as childish as it felt to recognize that that’s what this was.

You’d been so sure. So convinced that there was no possibility of this heinous monster being an actual thing to walk the same crusted earth as you. Yet here he was, dawning the shape of a man and the face of an angel. How could someone so beautiful be so terrifying?

The hospital wall was cold against your back, the distant hammering of an organ that no longer felt placed in your chest rang true against your clenched fist. You felt the chilling call to move, to rise from your place and run. You didn’t know where, but the muscles in your thighs screamed a silent symphony.

He made quick work of the bag, like it was nothing and had never been anything in the first place. Who had donated that blood? They were probably asleep somewhere, lying in a bed and dreaming of a different world. A world where their charitable donation wasn’t being consumed by a devil before your terrified soul.

The red liquid oozed from his lips and dripped onto his barren chest. You hadn’t moved since you’d collided with the wall what felt like an eternity ago. Your ears rung rapidly with the obnoxious blood flow to your overstimulated brain.

Eyes the shade of a blue jay traced from a pair of blood soaked claws up towards your face, following the path of destruction. Though shock and fear reverberated through your every nerve, the softness in his gaze dulled a small part of your terror. He looked guilty, holding his dripping hands in front of his face like he’d just committed murder.

“You promised to close your eyes,” A voice so small, as if he’d known you your whole life and you had just witnessed a character altering situation. Something echoed in the back of his words, something that sounded like resentment. You couldn’t tell if it was directed at your prying eyes or himself.

“I- I didn’t, I mean, I tried not to but,” You were at a loss. A loss for a way to communicate how you were feeling, a loss for sanity in the world. The monster before you scowled, as if scolding a child who’d disobeyed their parent. “What are you?”

He brought his bloody hands to the floor; you noted that the claws were gone. “I figure it’s pretty obvious at this point. Can’t you tell?” He whispered.

“But vampires aren’t-” His steely gaze hardened at your choice of words. “They aren’t real, are they?”

“They are,” He responded, looking at you with such a strong emotion that you shifted uncomfortably against the wall. What was he thinking? Those eyes looked like they were fixed on someone he cared deeply for, not someone he’d met mere minutes ago. “But you weren’t supposed to know that, which is why I asked you not to open your eyes.”

“You started drinking a bag of blood right in front of me!” You whisper-yelled, brows knitting together to display your slight frustration. The wonder and fear still laid active in your chest, but something about him was familiar and comforting, despite his gruesome actions. You couldn’t explain exactly why you knew he would bring you no harm. “Of course I was going to open my eyes. If I’m not supposed to know, why would you do that right in front of me?”

His scowl deepened. “I tried to warn you. I haven’t had any blood in awhile and I lost control of myself.”

“What happens now?” Your question came out smaller than intended, unfamiliarity rising in your abdomen. The thick stench of blood was beginning to make your intestines twist in disgusting unease.

The question sought to strike a chord in the young man’s features; a grim and saddened look swept across his sharp attributes. His hand came up to pinch his temples, unperturbed by the bloody fingerprints left in its wake. “We have to get out of here, and fast. If we don’t, the people who are after me will kill you.”

“Kill me?” The word had a different sense of fear wafting over you; the kind that pricked your eyes with the sensation to shed tears. He looked pained. “I can tell them that I didn’t see anything, I can promise that I never saw you and-”

“It doesn’t work like that,” He snapped, glancing at you with irritation. His harsh tone forced your pleas to die unsaid in your throat. “The people following me aren’t rational. One of them will also be able to tell you’re lying.”

“So then, what am I supposed to do?” You cried, allowing the bottled up and suppressed emotions to spill over the thin wall of resolve that his comforting presence provided. He didn’t flinch but remained in serious tranquility. “I’m supposed to leave here and hit the road with some random man, who is a fucking vampire, and what? Hope for the best?”  

He looked away from you, blood-covered face staring at the hospital bed that he’d once occupied. “It’s my fault you’re stuck in this now. I owe you enough to protect your life as best as I can.”

You were in hysterics. What sort of ultimatum was this? Stay and die or leave and risk dying? Another predicament that couldn’t be solved with the aid of literary education. Resentment was beginning to build in your own chest. Diving into an unexplored depth of the ocean, brimming with creatures and lore that you had never predicted to be real.

“Hey,” You snapped back to reality. The man before you scooted forwards slightly. Though his face was that of a devil, soaked in another’s blood and deathly pale, his movement had your chest tightening in something other than fear. “I won’t let them hurt you. I promise, if you come with me, you’ll be safe until I can get them off our tail. Then I’ll take off and they’ll follow me, leaving you alone.”

Sticky tears trailed down your cheeks, eyes burning. When did you start crying? “How -- how can you be so sure? How can I trust you?”

He was on his hands and knees in front of you now, sharp nose half a foot away from your face. Any call to breathe was put on hold, teary eyes widening slightly at his stare. It was soft and open, trusting in the strangest way. His dark hair hung around his face.

“My goal is to rid the world of demons such as myself. That’s why they’re after me, and why they would take your life to guarantee silence. When I’m finished with what I want to accomplish, I will be dead and so will they. I have nothing to gain by hurting you. I promise to keep you alive long enough to see the end of this.”

Your lips parted in awe. The conviction in his tone was that to lead an entire army into battle; to create religions and cult followings. Blessed be the demon who wished to take down his own kind.

You had spent years convincing yourself to trust in what others told you to follow. Self-intuition wasn’t enough to breed a successful nurse; you needed the expertise of studies and procedures done before you. You required the necessary tools that others had used and approved of. Your heart’s certainty had no place in medicine. It had no place in the tried and true.

The man slowly rose one freezing hand towards your face, apprehensively watching for your reaction. You sat unmoving, owl-eyed. His palm caressed your chin, cold thumb swiping the tear from your cheek, smearing blood in its wake. “Find it in your heart to trust me.”

The conviction of his words rang lightning through your veins, mouth speaking without precedented thought. “Okay.”

He rose from his crouched position, offering a red hand to help you up from against the wall. You shook your head. There had been enough blood sharing for the evening, sanitation crossing your mind as you shakily slid along the rough plaster, bracing yourself to display a toughness that you weren’t sure you contained.

The rule of thumb not to trust those whom you don’t know played a soft melody in your heart. Mothers’ warnings and fathers’ lectures. Apparently all you had been told fell upon deaf ears, clouded with the hazy judgement of a life threatening situation. But in circumstances such as these, did the general rule apply? You were left to ponder.

“Hey, wait,” You frowned, a dumbfounded feeling crossing your mind as the man stepped towards the opposite side of the room. He stopped and turned, sharp jaw jutting against his mane. “What even is your name?”

“Oh,” He turned back towards the other side of the room. You didn’t follow. The door was the opposite direction, so whatever business he had over there did not concern you. “It’s Eren. And you?”

You felt a slight heat rise to your cheeks at the confession of his name. It was beautiful, feeling somehow appropriate for his physical appearance. “It’s Y/N.”

“Ah,” He responded, as if he already knew. You scoffed inwardly at his tone, still anxiously pressed against the wall. His blood stained hand rose to the latch on the window, attempting to open it.

“Why are you opening the window?” You questioned, noticing a beep from out in the hallway. The door stood open, allowing passersby to witness the blood on the floor and your cheek, as well as this man called Eren, who appeared straight out of a horror movie.

Closing the wooden door meant deciding with certainty to trust him; to follow him and hope that whatever tales of murderous vampires he’d shared had been truthful. To step away from the knowledge and the comfort of your current life. It implied that no one would see you in there with him and come to your rescue.

They will kill you.

Your hand gently clicked the heavy door into its place.

Turning back to Eren, you noticed his hand wrapped around the latch to the window. He was frozen in place, watching you make your final choice.

“You didn’t answer my question,” You reiterated. Eren turned back towards the glass. His reflection wavered slightly in the shine.

“This is how we’re getting out of here,” Eren responded, pulling the latch and shoving the window open as far as it would go. It stopped at about two inches, for safety reasons.

Disbelief once again danced across your mind, pulling you into what was beginning to feel like a new equilibrium. “If you’re planning to leap out of that window, it only opens that far.”

He ignored you, bringing his bloodied palms up against the glass. It appeared as though he merely shoved it; so light that it shouldn’t have budged. It shouldn’t have moved at all. The heavy window snapped at its industrialized hinges, pummeling down towards the ground below.

He glanced at you from over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised semi-smugly. You gawked back; simultaneously impressed by his strength as well as put off. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll die if I jump from here,” You scoffed, still not moving from your place. Eren stared back emotionlessly. He stepped towards the bed, reaching beneath it and pulling out what appeared to be a black hooded jacket.

He swung it over his shoulders, pulling the hood above his head. “I know. If you ride on my back, you won’t die.”

“Are you always this mundanely serious about fucking supernatural shit like this?” You spat. There was a warmth beginning to settle in your face as well as your core; heated by the idea of being so close to him.

“Yes,” He retorted, walking towards you so quickly you thought your head would start spinning. “No time to waste with your endless questions.”

He reached down, abruptly swooping you up from behind your thighs, effectively gripping you bridal style.

“Eren, put me down. Put me down!” You started squirming as he thundered towards the open window. You hated heights as much as the next person; they were fine in retrospect, but made you dizzy when in close proximity. Eren seemed unbothered by your quiet cries of protest.

“Eren, I swear to god,” You brought your fist to his broad chest. He ignored you, stepping onto the ledge of the window. Against any better judgement you still retained, your eyes glanced towards the drop. Your stomach sank, becoming a heavy boulder in the bottom of your abdomen. “Fuck, put me down!”

He stared down at you. A gaze so tranquil that the rest of the scene seemed to fade away. You became hyper-aware of his bare chest which you were pressed against; that unfamiliar churning in your core spreading towards your limbs.

“Hold still, or I’ll drop you.”

☤   ☤   ☤

next chapter >>

tagging: @sunshinedragonofthewest​ @ryukatters​

[kamyru]

Hiya, can I request a fic for Toshiki Kasumi please (where MC and Kasumi are married and have a kid)?

It’s prompts 14, 16, 29, 32, 35?

I had an idea for how to tie it in but it’s up to you how you use the prompts of course!

I was thinking maybe the MC shows signs of illness in the first day (14) e.g having low temperature. Then Kasumi looks after her throughout the night and morning (16) and advises her to take the day off

Then maybe a co-worker comes on to him while MC is at home resting (29) where Kasumi either talks about MC and the child then (32) or maybe when he’s telling Takado about the female co-worker that came on to him (32).

Maybe then the MC starts to feel better by the afternoon and Kasumi is feeling down by the whole flirting ordeal so he goes back to the office and sees MC and their child drawing or something (35) - basically MC started to feel better so picked up their child from nursery/ school and decided to surprise him. Then maybe Kasumi mentions how a co-worker flirted with him when they get back home and something happens then. I’ll leave the response up to you? Hope that idea makes sense!

As I said, this is only an idea of how to tie it all in together it’s really up to you whether you use it or not!

Thank you 😊

Hi, @purple-rose27303! Thank you for your request. It's so cute and funny. Also, thank you for your patience in waiting for my answer. I hope you'll like it. Enjoy! ❤️

The prompts list used

14C. Taking their hand in their pocket to help them warm up on a cold day

16C. Coming to their S/O's home in the middle of the night/from work/from far away to take care of them because they are sick

29C. Says "I have a S/O" in the middle of an important meeting when someone is flirting with them

32C. Mentioning their spouse/children in a casual conversation/at work

35C. Turning into a softie when their kids appear

Kasumi - the caring husband (Scenario)

Author's note: Why did I give MC a UTI instead of flu, or something like this: flu and colds are usually infectious diseases. A responsible doctor who works with patients from intensive care won't come to work with flu or a cold. UTIs are common, very painful, cause fever, and can be treated at home (even if you need to go to the doctor beforehand). 

Word counting: 1929

Kasumi looked at his phone. It was already nine in the morning. For some people, it wasn't late. Yet, for him, who slept less than two hours that night, the time was slower than a snail. Who could have thought that MC's altered condition from the previous day would transform into something like this?

Pressing his nose bridge with his fingers, the cardiac surgeon recollected everything that had happened in the past hours. His memories began when he and his wife walked from work to their kid's kindergarten. During the day, MC looked normal. Yet, the moment she went outside, the cold breeze made her shiver. She pressed herself closer to her husband.

"Are you cold?" Kasumi asked, taking MC's hand in his. Her fingers were freezing. Taking both her hands in his, the man blew hot air and tried to rub them. A soft smile appeared on MC's face.

"I am tired," the woman whispered while hugging her lover. "You're so warm," she continued, drawing circles with her fingers on Kasumi's back, underneath his coat.

The Kasumis stayed like this till Toshiki looked at his wristwatch.

"It's getting late. We have to hurry to kindergarten."

After kissing his wife's hair, Kasumi took her by one of her wrists and shoved her hand into his pocket. MC pushed herself playfully into her husband, an action awarded with a head-pat.

Though, all he had time to do was to take his son from kindergarten and go back to work because of an urgent call he got from there. He had no idea that another urgent call would make him return in a few hours. After performing the surgery, everything was calm. Kasumi decided to stay for a little bit more, so to make sure that the patient was stable. When his phone rang at two in the morning, he thought it was another urgency from the hospital. Yet, on the screen appeared "Mrs. Kasumi ♥". It was how he named his wife the day they married, and it lasted till now.

On the one hand, Toshiki was happy to hear his wife's voice. On the other, he had a bad feeling about this late call. Unfortunately, he was right. MC's voice was weak, and the man could hear her chattering teeth.

"I feel sick," she cried. It was enough to make her husband rush home to see what happened.

He entered the house ten minutes later to a shivering MC under the warmest blanket. Kasumi had no idea if she was asleep or not, yet even in the dark, he could see tears glistening on her face.

"We are going to the hospital," Toshiki told his wife while wiping away the tears from her cheeks. Kissing MC's forehead, he started to look for the thermometer while calling Takado. Inserting the thermometer into MC's mouth, he explained to his friend the entire situation and asked him to take his son for the night.

In ten minutes, the entire Kasumi family was at Takado's. In less than fifteen, Toshiki and MC were at the hospital. It was already dawn when they finished the clinical investigation. The doctor explained to the other doctors what the results were. UTI - it was bothersome yet treatable. Antibiotics and bed rest could do wonders. The doctor looked at the other doctor, who looked at the third. Deciding that MC and Kasumi would be able to deal with it at home, the couple headed to the parking lot. With his phone in his hands, Kasumi called Takado:

"Sorry to bother you even more, but could you..," he didn't finish the sentence because the orthopedist had already given his answer.

"I already know, don't worry. I'll take your son to kindergarten. How's MC?"

Kasumi explained everything to his friend and headed home. MC took painkillers and was feeling a little bit better. Yet, before returning to her ruined sleep, she convinced her husband to go to work.

"I would call you as often as possible to update you about how I feel. If I don't feel okay, I'll call you or Takado. If none of you is answering, I'll call the ambulance. I'll text you if you are too busy to talk to me. Don't worry. I'll be okay!"

Still, it was hard for Toshiki to leave his wife alone and sick. So, he called the hospital to tell them he would be late. He let his wife fall asleep on his lap while he played with her hair. After Kasumi made sure that MC was sleeping, he decided to cook something light for her to eat when she woke up.

So, there he was, at nine in the morning, waiting for his wife to call him, even if he knew she had fallen asleep less than two hours ago. Kasumi knew better than to think it was what she had wanted. MC was the one to convince her husband to go to work to take care of the patients that had it worse than her. Yet, there he was, thinking only about her.

A sudden knock on his door made Dr. Kasumi put away his phone and act like the most concentrated man alive. Matsunaga's broad smile was pissing the cardiologist off.

"The doctors who want to watch your upcoming operation this week are already here. They want to hear your plan."

Kasumi rolled his eyes.

"Like now?"

"Like now," Matsunaga confirmed.

Making sure to take his phone, Kasumi went after Matsunaga to give a useless talk that could have waited. In the room were a few familiar faces, and a new one, of a young female cardiac surgeon. After giving all the details, the Q&A session began. All this time, Dr. Kasumi's hand was in the same pocket as his phone to know if it buzzed. Suddenly, an unexpected question changed the atmosphere from a professional one to an awkward one:

"Is it only me, or does your mind wander somewhere else?" the young woman asked, her words accompanied by a know-it-all laugh.

"I am sorry if I give you this impression. I promise it won't interfere with the surgery," Kasumi bowed.

"People always tell me that it's hard for them to concentrate near me. You don't have to be sorry. It's something natural," the woman continued while chuckling.

Dr. Kasumi ran his left hand through his bangs and then put his hand on the edge of the desk, near the pseudo-popular girl. Cooperating, a ray of sunshine fell on his wedding band, making it sparkle.

"My wife is home alone with a high fever, and I am waiting for a call from her to make sure that she is alright. I am sorry if my personal life makes you question my professionalism."

A smirk appeared on Matsunaga's face. Even from the start, he knew that the woman didn't come to look at the surgery. Instead, she was more interested in the surgeon. So, Kasumi let her know he wouldn't tolerate discussions besides those regarding the patient.

When the meeting came to its logical ending, Toshiki felt his phone buzzing. Excusing himself for leaving first, he picked it up. MC updated him about her well-being and complimented the food he had made. A soft smile appeared on the cardiologist's face. After dealing with all those doctors, hearing his wife's voice was a blessing.

"I heard someone tried to steal you away from MC during the meeting," Hosho said when Kasumi entered the office. The Chief was already used to how fast the gossip ran through the EICU.

"As if they could," was everything Kasumi said. Everyone thought he would retreat to his office. Yet, Kasumi's gaze searched for a certain orthopedist. When his eyes finally landed on Takado, an unexpected smile appeared on his face. "How was the morning? I hope my son didn't bother you too much."

"No. Good thing he's more like you than like MC. He asked me a few questions about what had happened and went reluctantly to kindergarten," Takado explained.

A soft smile appeared on Kasumi's face. It was the sign that a waterfall of words would follow. Before Baby Kasumi was born, no one knew his dad could talk so much. Toshiki didn't miss the opportunity to tell everyone how lucky he was to have such a wonderful family. Excusing themselves, everyone left except Takado, who didn't have a plausible reason.

"He's such a fantastic kid. Everyone says that I was a genius. Yet, when I look at him, I understand that I was nothing in comparison with how smart he is. Yet, I want him to get a taste of his childhood. I won't forgive myself if I ever find out that he feels pressed to be the way he is. A few days ago, he drew his family at kindergarten. Do you want to see the photos of the drawing? I have to bring his art to work. I know that I already have a lot of things made by him in here, yet there's no such thing as too much. I am proud of everything he does. Isn't he a fantastic kid?"

The smile on Takado's face got more strained with each word Kasumi said. MC and Baby Kasumi had the one feared surgeon whipped for them. There was a single thing that could stop Kasumi from bragging about his family - work. And that saved Takado from being Kasumi's victim for another few hours.

MC was right when she assumed her husband would be too busy to answer her calls. So, Kasumi got at least ten messages from MC about her health.

The cardiac surgeon was so busy that the entire EICU decided it was safe to return to their office without being told everything about his family. And that was why they were the first to find out about MC's surprise. Takado, who saw Mrs. Kasumi shivering in the car last night, was worried sick. Yet, MC's usual playfulness and energy put him at ease. Moreover, even if they ran away from Kasumi's brag, the entire EICU adored Baby Kasumi. So, thanking MC for bringing him with her, they competed with each other for his attention. The boy was really exceptionally smart. However, his mom's influence was there too. And the kid had a strange sense of humor, episodes of incomprehensible energy, and talkativeness from time to time.

When Kasumi returned to the office, he didn't understand at first what was the matter. Though, he heard a laugh that he couldn't ever mistake. Baby Kasumi was already running in his dad's hands. Putting him on his shoulders, the doctor went to his wife. A caring hand found its place on MC's forehead.

"Are you feeling better?"

MC leaned into her husband's touch and nodded. Her lower back still hurt, and she felt somehow flabby. Yet, spending more time with Kasumi was worth it.

"Hosho told me about your new fan," MC teased Toshiki. If his son weren't there, Kasumi would probably swear.

"Who cares? In the end, you are the one I am returning home to."

MC bit her lips to stop the desire to kiss her husband there and then. Instead, she took his left hand in hers and started to play with his wedding band.

"And I am grateful to have someone as caring as you by my side."

A collective "Bleh" echoed through the office. It was something Kasumi didn't want his son to take from his uncles, yet it was too late. Ignoring everyone's envy, the happy Kasumi family headed home.

[spaceorphan18]

Head Over Feet (1/14)

After Kurt and Blaine broke up the second time, they went their separate ways, living their separate lives in New York City. Fifteen years later, a retirement party brings them back together into each other's orbit, with surprising, for both of them, consequences. Are they able to fit each other into their already complicated and messy lives? And are these newfound feelings real? Or just echoes of a past relationship?

Canon Divergent after Season 5.

Ao3 Link

A/N: Yes, I know I have a bunch of other WIPs - and I am still working on all of them! But I’ve been so excited about this one, I just want to get it out there... 

Thanks to @snarkyhag for the beta. :) 

***

Chapter 1: Loser Like Me (Part One) 

Fall 2028

Blaine is dreaming.  It’s all fuzzy, but there are hands… familiar hands that are on him clasping his own, cupping his face, trailing down, down, down to where it feels good.  He begins to feel the warmth spread throughout his body.  He feels good, so good… Lips are against his, rough and hungry, he is enveloped in want, in need… He lets out a groan, letting the pleasure overtake him.  He reaches out, desperate for more, but as he does so, that good feeling starts to float away.  He makes a grasp for it, but it’s no longer there, and he is left cold and wanting more.  

And then his alarm goes off.  

Blaine wakes up hard as a rock.  He can’t remember the last time he had a dream about sex.  Maybe when he had been a teenager? Or possibly college?  But he doesn’t remember any of those dreams ending him with his dick actually aching to fuck something.  

He stares at the ceiling for a good long moment, thinking the urgency will eventually wear off.  He turns his head, slightly, to see the outline of his husband on the other side of the bed.  He doesn’t bother to wake Sean -- not that morning sex had ever been a part of their marriage.  They’re on opposite schedules; the show Sean is doing the costumes for is in the middle of its workshop, and if it gets picked up by a good producer, it could mean big things.  And Sean is cranky in the morning, anyway.  

Blaine can just as easily take care of himself.

He gets up, slowly.  The erection still hasn’t died down, and Blaine begins to wonder if this is even normal for someone his age.  Maybe he should call a doctor.  He laughs to himself.  Or maybe he should jack off and not worry about it.  

He moves off the bed, having to go around it to get to the bathroom.  In the process, he has to step over a huge pile of Sean’s clothes.  Blaine takes a moment to pick them up, and throw them into the laundry basket.  Two seconds, it takes.  Is that really so hard?  

The clothes also smell like booze and cigarettes, which means Sean has been staying out late with the company again.  It’s fine, they used to both go all the time to the afterparties and the clubs, but some time after Blaine hit thirty, he didn’t find them as enticing any more.  Something about feeling almost twice as old as everyone around him killed the spirit.

Blaine gets into the bathroom, turning on the light, and easily stripping out of the boxers that he wears to bed.  His dick is still throbbing to be touched, so he gives himself a few hardy strokes before turning on the water for a shower.  It’s weird, he thinks, as he gets in.  Sex used to be the a staple of his marriage but, as the years passed, he and Sean manage once a week if they’re lucky.  He hasn’t really missed it, or maybe he hasn’t noticed he missed it.  Because getting off with just his hand doesn’t normally feel so good.  

He indulges a little, thinking about that dream, and those hands on him.  Letting someone else take over, take control, take him apart.  He thinks, at first, of Sean, pulling from the catalogue of their sex life.  Sean being the one to hold him, and stroke him, and suck him down.  But as much as he tries to concentrate on his husband, the scene keeps pulling away, and there’s someone else there -- a faceless man with deft hands who knows exactly how Blaine likes to be touched.  

He speeds up his hand, and yet somehow it doesn’t feel like enough.  He braces himself against the tile of the bathroom wall, fucking furiously into his hand until his hips take on a life of their own.   Eventually he comes, jolting hard into his hand.  The orgasm tears through him, and he lets out a near scream that he hopes doesn’t wake Sean.  

It takes a moment to come down, and he leans against the tiles, enjoying the blissed out feeling as the hot water sprays over him.  He’s not sure what had brought all that on but he does feel more relaxed.  He’s been too pent up lately.  Maybe he does need to start seeing his therapist again…

***

On Wednesdays, Blaine only teaches one class and he is back home by noon in time, usually, to make himself lunch before heading out to do afternoon errands (or stay in and grade papers).  Before the workshop started, he and Sean would usually make Wednesday nights their together time.  But those have faded away over the past year or so.  Blaine has gotten used to spending the evenings alone, to the point that when Blaine arrives back at the apartment that afternoon, he’s startled to see Sean there making himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  

Sean stands against the counter, chewing the sandwich slowly as he watches Blaine put his bag and coat on one of the kitchen table chairs.   “You okay?” Sean asks, taking another bite.  A bit of crust lands in his red beard, and he brushes it off and onto the floor.  Blaine shakes his head, now he understands why the floor is always so filthy.  “You’re looking at me as if I’m a stranger in the house.”

“No, it’s fine,” Blaine says.  Maybe it’s not.  It feels, weirdly, like an intrusion on his private time, but the thought is laughable.  His husband is home -- he should be happy.  Blaine begins to rifle through the fridge, pulling out a container of tuna fish to have for lunch.  They could eat together, at the table, like civilized people.  “What happened with the workshop?”

“Remember me telling you about Ashleigh and Karyn and their obsessive ambition to be the first to win a Tony? Or whatever the fuck they’re actually looking for.”

“Yes.” No? Maybe? He can’t keep all of the cast members of Sean’s show straight.  But Blaine doesn’t really feel like listening to a who’s who tangent.  He finishes making the sandwich as Sean explains further.  

“Well, I don’t know how it started, but I know how it ended -- with the both of them in the hospital,” Sean says.  “So with both the lead and the understudy out, the workshop is on hold for a little while.”

“Wait, who was the lead again?” Blaine asks.  Sandwich made, he grabs some chips from the pantry and a bottle of water and heads to the kitchen table.  Sean follows him, leaving his now empty plate on the counter, before taking his usual seat across from Blaine.  

“Karyn,” Sean says, stealing some chips from Blaine’s bag.  “The blonde.”

“Right.”

“So, I guess you have me home for a while.”

Blaine plasters an immediate smile to his face.  He’s not entirely sure how to feel, though.  “Are you still getting paid?”

“Yeah,” Sean grabs more chips.  “Marv’s gotta girl lined up in case it takes longer.  Shouldn’t be more than a week.”  

“Ah.”  

Sean taps his fingers on the table.  Blaine sips from his water bottle.  There’s a siren outside somewhere, and the upstairs neighbor’s dog sprints back and forth, causing the ceiling to creek.  

“I paid the water bill,” Sean says after a long moment.  

“Great,” Blaine says.  “I still say we should get reimbursed for the neighbors tapping into our pipes.”  

“I’ll talk to Greg about it.”

“Great.”

Blaine eats his sandwich in a strange sort of silence as Sean watches him.  He feels like they should talk about something.  What do they usually talk about these days? Work? The apartment? The new musical mini-series Netflix put out?  Sean doesn’t ask how Blaine’s class went.  Blaine doesn’t offer to talk about it.  Nothing really feels like a good conversation.  

Which is why Blaine decides to mention it… “So, I had the weirdest dream last night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it was some kind of sex dream,” Blaine says, licking the tuna from his fingers.  “I woke up hard as fuck.”

Sean gives a smirk.  “I can’t tell if this is your way of telling me you want to fool around tonight, or if you’re concerned and want to see a doctor.”  

Blaine laughs into his water.  “I decided I’m too young still to have dick problems, and jacked off in the shower.”  

Sean’s eyes go wide with amusement.  “Shame I missed that show.  If you’re still feeling it, we can mess around after lunch if you want.”

Blaine gives an unenthused shrug.  “I’ve got some errands to run.  Then I’m having dinner with Santana tonight, but if you want to catch the late show, it can be arranged.”  

“We’ll see,” Sean says.  “I told some of the guys I’d meet them out for drinks tonight.  There’s a new bar opening over in SoHo.”

A flash of irritation runs through Blaine.  It’s not the turning down of sex that bothers him.  He really doesn’t want to spend his evening at a bar in SoHo.  He really doesn’t want to spend the evening with Sean’s questionable friends ‘Way-Too-Flirty’ Don and ‘Drinks-Too-Much’ Steve.  He doesn’t even really want to go out, especially when he has to teach an early morning class.  But he’s not there to tell Sean what to do.  

He finishes off the sandwich without a word.  It’s not like Sean feels differently about Santana.  

“You know, speaking of Santana, that reminds me,” Sean says, getting up from his seat.  He goes over to the counter and brings back a red envelope.  “This came for you today -- from McKinley High.”  

Blaine takes it with interest.  He gets mailers from Dalton Academy all the time -- even if he didn’t graduate from there, he had still technically been an alumni.  But something from McKinley?  That just seems weird.  It isn’t the right time for there to be a reunion.  He has no idea what it could possibly be.  

He opens it up to find a black and gold invitation. “Oh,” he says a little fondly as he reads it.  “My old glee club teacher is retiring.  He’s inviting everyone back for homecoming weekend to celebrate.  Cute.”  

Sean grabs at the paper after Blaine lets it drop back to the table.  “Do you want me to come with you?” he offers quietly.  

“Would you want to go?” It’s not often that Sean comes with him on the rare occasions he heads back to Ohio.  

Sean hesitates before he speaks, and snacks on another couple of chips before replying.  “I probably should stay to make sure Marv has a handle on this whole Ashleigh-Karyn thing.  That is, unless you’d like me to go.”  

Blaine stares hard at the paper.  It’s not like he couldn’t go.  He doesn’t have to teach on Fridays, and the school is having a holiday weekend that same weekend.  In theory, he could and it wouldn’t be a problem.  “I don’t even know if I should.”

“Maybe go to see your parents, Blaine,” Sean says.  “It’s got to be at least a few years since you’ve seen them.”

“I saw them last year at…” Blaine considers.  Has time really flown by so quickly? “Huh, I guess it has been at least two since that Christmas we spent in Ohio.” He sits back in his chair to think about it.  

“Hey, Blaine…” There’s suddenly a heaviness in the air.  There’s something behind Sean’s eyes that hadn’t been there earlier.  Something that Blaine catches glimpses of every once in a while.  Something that they’ve been avoiding and, for a moment, Blaine fears that Sean is actually going to bring it up.  The room gets darker, just a cloud passing by the sun, but everything is still -- too still, and Blaine’s heart begins to race.  The moment passes, though, and whatever Sean had been about to say changes.  “I guess talk to Santana about it, and see what she says.”

Blaine stares down at the paper again.  Suddenly, a weekend away from the apartment, away from the city, away from Sean doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.  “Yeah, I’ll do that.”  

***

The fall wind is sharp in its crispness, but it’s still a nice enough evening to go for a run in Central Park.  Three days a week, he and Santana Lopez go out for a jog then grab dinner at a nearby taco truck so they can sit and gossip.  Santana, who’s office isn’t far from where they meet, is already waiting for Blaine when he arrives.  She is stretching her legs, bent over in a V, wearing her usual black spandex pants with a bright, blue bomber jacket that billows slightly.  Her designer sunglasses rest on the top of her head.

Because he has been thinking about high school all day, he can’t help but think that she hasn’t changed much.  Her face has hardened a little with age, but Blaine knows her beauty care routine is much more extensive than his, and he knows how much she spends on wigs and dye jobs.  Today, though, her long, black hair is pulled back tightly in a high pony, amusingly reminiscent of how she wore it in high school.  

“Okay, so I have some hot goss for you today,” she says, immediately after they exchange pleasantries.  She waits for him to do his own stretching, but continues to launch into her news.  “So, you remember how I’ve been endlessly talking about the cute redhead on the floor below?”

“The one who works as a secretary for the greasy lawyer?” Blaine pulls his leg back.  The stretching feels nice, he is glad he is able to get out of the stuffy apartment in some capacity tonight, even if he can tell Santana is a bit more ramped up than usual.  

Santana nods.  “So for weeks now, it’s been flirty glances, and unbuttoning buttons to show off some pretty pricey brassieres, but you know, nothing direct.  Well, today she comes up to my floor, claiming the bathroom is not working in their offices -- and I checked, she was totally lying -- and she’s wearing this tight, and I mean tight, nearly see-through button-down.  With no bra.  She had on no bra.  I could see her fucking nipples, Blaine.”

“The nerve,” Blaine teases.  They begin to walk down their usual path.  They have a good quarter of a mile before they usually start jogging, though they might go the first half of their two miles at a walking pace just so Santana could release her pent up energy verbally.  

“Who doesn’t wear a bra in a professional setting?” Santana continues.  Blaine arches an eyebrow at her.  “Okay, so I have totally done it, but I promise you it was warranted.  Anyway, I think she’s trying to kill me.  I took all of my restraint not to pull her directly into the janitor’s closet and make out with her.  And play with her tits.  I can’t unsee her fucking hot tits, Blaine.” Santana grumbles, putting a fist to her head, as if it’ll magically erase the image.

“You know, you could ask for her number,” Blaine suggests, for maybe the third time since Santana has started talking about the woman.  “Or, you know, find out her name.”  

Santana looks at him sharply.  He knows, she just wants a minute to bitch and revel in her janitor closet fantasies, but it’s not in him not to offer suggestions.  “Her name is Liz.  I at least found that out today.”

“Well, that’s a start,” Blaine offers.  

“Alright, what’s up with you?” she asks abruptly.  “Usually, you’re talking my head off about school, and I’m always having to catch up to you.  You’re trailing me by nearly a foot.  Something’s going on.”

Santana’s senses are rarely off, he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is by it.  He tries to quicken his pace but she is right, he is been in his head all day.  “I’m thinking of going back to therapy.”  He says it simply, laying it out as if it’s another fact, and not something that’s been weighing on his mind.  

She gives him a concerned look.  “Is this a ‘just you’ thing? Or a ‘you and Sean’ thing?”

“A ‘just me’ thing,” he admits.  They are nearly at the lamp post where they usually start to jog, but he’s not feeling as up to it as he had been when he arrived at the park.  “Sean’s staying home for a few days, and I’ve been restless lately…” he doesn’t quite say the things he’s thinking.  “And, I don’t know, I had a weird sex dream this morning.  I’ve been off all day.”

“Well, what does Sean think?”

“He offered to fuck, but I told him I had it taken care of.”

“What, no, not about the sex dream,” Santana stops in her tracks.  They have to wait a moment for an older woman walking a doberman to pass in-between them.  “What does your husband think about you going to therapy?”

“It didn’t come up.”  

“God, Blaine,” Santana says, exasperated.  “Well, if you really would rather spend your evening with me than reconnecting with your husband who is, as you well know, built like a fucking viking, then maybe therapy is what you need.”

It’s more complicated than that.  She knows some of it, but maybe not all of it, and it’s more than Blaine would really like to get into on their fairly public walk through Central Park.  But Santana has also grown to be one of his closest friends and, if nothing else, he can confide in her.  

“I’m going to set up an appointment,” he tries to play it off as just another thing.  She knows better, and gives him one of her infamous staredowns.  “And if it’s something I think I need to continue to do, I’ll keep you informed,” he tries to assure her.  

“You better, Anderson.” Her voice is sharp.  “I may have a cold, dead heart, but I want you to be happy.  And you know I’m always going to be blatantly honest with you, so I say this with all the love I can muster, but I don’t think you are.”  

“I know, I know…” He’s not not happy.  He loves his job.  He loves his little apartment.  He loves being in one of the greatest cities in all of the world.  He and Sean are…  “So, hey, did you get your invitation to Mr. Schue’s retirement party?”  He begins to walk again.  He knows he’s avoiding the conversation, so does Santana.  But she rolls with it.  

“He’s retiring?  Dear god, he’s barely over fifty.”

Blaine lets out a little laugh.  “Well, that’s what the invitation said.”  

“And, fuck, no, I haven’t gotten one,” Santana says.  “Though, it’s been a couple weeks since I’ve checked the mail.  Who sends invitations through the mail these days?  Just start a text chain like a normal person.”

“Would you go?” He asks.  He’s been back and forth on the idea all day.  Does he really want or need to see anyone from high school again?  Possibly?  Would it be nice to get away for a weekend? Most definitely.  Can he really afford to skip town for a little while? That is the big unanswered question.  

Santana bites her lip, thinking it over.  “I mean it really depends on who else got these magical invitations.  Oh, god, will Rachel Berry be there? Please tell me Rachel Berry will be there.  Because I have got to see how little Miss TV-Princess does in a place that does not revolve around her ego.”

Blaine has never had the issues with Rachel that Santana had, but he does remember college.  He does remember Funny Girl.  “Sorry, Santana, I don’t actually have an answer for you on that one.”

Santana throws her hands in the air.  “You keep in touch with everyone, right?  Well, isn’t she part of everyone?”

“I think she’s become a little out of my status level,” Blaine replies, with a smirk.  “Besides, I don’t keep in touch with everyone .”  Truth be told, Santana might be the only person he talks to from high school.  At least on a regular basis.  For all the promises made during the time of staying BFFs forever, real life managed to get in the way of the magical thinking.  

“Alright, let’s work it out, right now, cause this will be the determining factor,” she says.  She pulls at a leaf from one of the trees above her, causing the branch to bounce.  It nearly whacks him in the head, which causes her to giggle a little and shake her head.  “Let’s see… Rachel Berry, possibly.  Said ego might drive her back to the place where it all began.”  

“Sam Evans will probably be there,” Blaine says.  “He does still live in the area.” He and Sam don’t have a lot of contact, but occasionally they’ll do a long distance Fantasy Football thing or chat about a new video game they both own.  He hopes Sam will go - he could use more of that laid back charm in his life.  

“Artie clearly won’t be,” Santana continues.  “I know, because I’m the one who put him on the European press tour for his new film.”

“I doubt Tina will be there either,” Blaine adds.  “She just had her third baby, and she and Ron probably don’t want to make the trip from Boston to Lima with three young children.”  

He thinks of Tina’s Instagram, the only way he really communicates with her, and the constant updates for her hectic life.  She’s happy and looking good, and way too busy to drop everything and run back to Ohio.  Blaine makes a note to give her a call at some point to congratulate her formally on the new baby, even if he had already left a cute note on the Instagram pictures.  

Santana is too caught up in her thought process to say more about Tina.  “Finn won’t be there for obvious reasons.  What the fuck happened to Puck? I doubt he has an address to even send anything to.  Quinn’s too prideful to drag her divorced ass out of Connecticut.  You know she’s already taken a new lover ?  She’s in her mid-thirties, and still hitting up the sugardaddies.  I mean, have some goddamn respect for yourself.”

“Well, Mike’s in Chicago,” Blaine offers.  Mike had been part of the Chicago Ballet for a long time, and had since become a dance instructor.  Blaine had been at Mike’s wedding to his wife, Marie, a couple of years ago, and he’s another one whom Blaine wouldn’t mind seeing again.  Maybe he, Mike, and Sam could have a nice guys’ night out that weekend.  He’ll have to get in touch.

Santana nods.  They walk by a woman sitting on a bench with two screaming children.  Blaine feels bad for the woman, but he and Santana share a look -- both of them glad that they don’t have to deal with that kind of hot mess at home.  

“Then there’s Mercedes,” Santana says, looking up and out into the world.  “Goddess among women.  We do not have the privilege to be in her presence.”  Santana laughs at her own comments.  “Seriously, though, I love my girl, but I don’t judge her for continuing to live her best life.”

“What about Brittany?” Blaine asks, tentatively.  He has no idea if this is a sore subject for her or not because he doesn’t think Santana has brought her up once over the course of their friendship.  

Santana becomes stoney-faced, as if not to give herself too much away.  “No,” she says simply.  “Brittany’s living in some commune in LA where she does Fondue for Two and runs a cat babysitting service.”  

“That’s a thing?”

“In LA it is.”  A fond smile climbs on her lips.  “In any case, as much as I am always up for seeing my girl again, I highly doubt she’ll be back.  I mean, we were still hooking up for a while the few times I made it out to LA, but recently she’s found someone a little more… permanent.  And before you go on pitying me, let me assure you, I am more than fine.”  She’s quiet for a moment as she reflects.  For a person who is almost always open about her thoughts, she’s decidedly reclusive when it comes to matters of her heart.  Blaine knows better than to try to pry it out of her. “Anyway, if we’re going to be upfront about exes, I believe there’s only one person left, if we’re not counting random chicks with mafia dads or weird Irish exchange students.  And I’m sure we both know that there’s no way in hell Lady Hummel is coming back to Lima, Ohio.”

“Oh!” Blaine says, as if it’s a complete revelation.  Kurt hadn’t even entered his mind, and it is surreal to think that his brain didn’t go there first.  

“Oh, please, don’t tell me you actually forgot about Lady Hummel and his heartbreaking ways,” Santana scoffs.  “Pretty sure years of therapy couldn’t undo all the trauma that did.”

She isn’t wrong, and she would know, because she helped pick him up a year after everything had happened.  But that’s the funny thing -- it’s not that he doesn’t remember Kurt.  (God, he remembers all of Kurt.)  He doesn’t remember the person he used to be when he had been with Kurt.  There had been a time when he would have shifted the Sun and the Moon and the entire Earth for Kurt Hummel.  A time when his heart had pointed in only one direction.  And a time so dark that when Kurt had ended it, Blaine didn’t know how he would ever move on.  

And yet he did.  

The person he had been is now such a faded memory he can barely remember what those feelings were like.  Kurt Hummel is just another name from his past, a person who, yes, helped shape him into the person he is now.  But long gone are the emotions once attached to that name.  Funny how things can change.  Someone could mean so much to you at one point in time, and yet after time…

“I didn’t forget about Kurt, clearly,” Blaine says. He grabs her arm, and loops his own through it.  The jog isn’t happening today, and he’s fine with that.  Some days, it’s best just to have the company rather than the exercise.  “I just think you’re right, unless Burt is dying or something.  But doubtful that he’ll return for a silly retirement party.”

“You almost sound disappointed.”

Blaine shrugs, and gives a smile.  He doesn’t know how he feels about whether or not Kurt will be there.  He hasn’t thought about him so long.  But he does know that after all this talk of the past, maybe he is ready to go back and see if anyone else is feeling the same way.  “I think we should do it.  Go back.  I mean, why not?”

Santana shakes her head.  “Oh, this whole idea sounds like the worst, but if there’s a chance I get to make-out with Quinn Fabray again, then I’m in.”

For the first time in a while, Blaine feels a little lighter on his feet.

***

Not a few weeks later, Blaine is on a plane back to Ohio.  

He and Sean talked it over and, while Sean had been technically free to go, they agreed that maybe it would be better if Blaine went himself; the unspoken dialogue being that space isn’t the worst thing they could give each other.  Blaine had not been able to help but be fidgety with his wedding ring during the flight but, intent on giving himself a weekend off from real life, he drowned himself in his favorite podcasts, and had tried not to think about his life in New York.  

The party is on a Saturday afternoon, but he’s there on Friday so to spend time with his mom.  They end up having a nice lunch together, and she takes him shopping.  She’s as feisty as ever, somehow managing to remind Blaine of Santana, and he wonders if she’s always been like that or if that’s a new trait of being in your sixties.  They end up FaceTiming with Cooper and the kids, and Blaine indulges his little nieces by singing them Disney Princess songs.  The whole day weirdly feels like the family they usually are only around Christmas time, but he’s in good enough spirits that he doesn’t question it.  

Later that night, his dad comes home, and they have pizza before his parents go off for one of their social benefit parties they often frequent, reminding Blaine of the old days when his parents were never home on a Friday night.  He doesn’t mind so much because McKinley’s Homecoming Football game is that night.  

His original plan had been to meet up with Sam since Santana’s plane isn’t coming in until tomorrow.  But Sam declined, stating that Mercedes Jones is coming late that night and she needs a ride from the airport.  Sam didn’t ask Blaine to come with him.  Blaine calls up Mike, who is happy to hear from him, and says that he will be at the party but is only going to make the trip to Lima once on Saturday.  He doesn’t bother trying to get a hold of anyone else, and ends up going to the game alone.  

Coming back to McKinley feels like going back in time, and yet the kids running around make him feel entirely too old to be there.  He half expects Sue Sylvester to pop out and start yelling at the cheerleaders, or Mr. Figgins to make some sort of half-time speech, but the world of McKinley has moved on, even if the campus has remained remarkably the same.  The game is fun, but kind of boring, and he’s not surprised when the team loses by seventeen points.  Still, seeing the array of alumni all cheering around him, he feels a strange sort of connection to the place in a way that he really didn’t when he actually went to the school.  It’s a bit surreal.  

Afterwards, not ready to go home to an empty house, he drives around for a bit, until by chance, he drives by Scandals, Lima’s decrepit excuse for a gay bar.  Feeling somewhat amused, a little nostalgic, and a lot in need of a drink, he decides to grab a beer for old times’ sake.  He decides, on a whim, to put his wedding ring in his pocket.  He’s not actually planning anything, but it’s also not like Sean wears his anymore, anyway.  

Scandals is even more in a sad state of affairs then he remembers, even if ‘Funk-It-Up-Friday’ is trying to give the place some of that Mid-Western Charm.  He orders a bottled beer, and sips as he thinks fondly about the time he watched Dave Karofsky try to line dance.  God, that had been so long ago…

“I’m guessing this place rarely sees a man as gorgeous as you.  Mind if I buy you a drink?”

It takes a moment for Blaine to realize the pick-up line is directed at him, but he does instantly recognize the voice.  Much to his shock, when he turns around, he’s face to face with a much older, and yet still dazzlingly magnificent, Kurt Hummel.

[isthisthingeven0n]

hear you : a.h

after celebrating your promotion with hotch, it tragically ends in an accident with you hospitalised and comatose. yet, somehow you can hear everyone around you, wishing for you to wake up. (1.9k) 

all my links

hear you / every word 

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

Everything that night occurred in an instant. No one had time to change what happened, even if you wished the events had happened in a different order.

If you hadn’t left the restaurant first and walked ahead whilst Hotch admired the fleeting moment. You were laughing giddily as you turned to face him, his arms were crossed over his chest as you danced, still joyful after celebrating your promotion. Perhaps if he caught up to you it would’ve been someone else lying on the ground.

Yet, as you lie on the ground, life draining from your gaze you can’t help but wonder; what if?

The events that lead to you strapped to a hospital bed lifelessly could have all been avoided. If the driver hadn’t drunk away his sorrows before picking up his children, families would still be together and one less hospital bed would be filled.

All you can hear is the monotone beeping of your heart monitor. The stench of antibacterial sprays and gels embed themselves into your nostrils alongside the fragrant flowers from Garcia that litter your private room. But out of everything in your environment, there’s one thing you’re still waiting on; to hear him, to hear Hotch by your side.

What you’re currently certain of is that you’re asleep, comatose. Yet, you can hear everything. This was the sort of thing you’d witnessed happen in TV shows, and you’ve listened to Spencer sitting beside you, explaining to Penelope that there have been no claims of comatose patients hearing voices. How they can hear movements or faint sounds, but no details of conversations. All you can do is wait whilst you remain trapped in your own thoughts, unable to react to anything said.

Your daily routine since being ‘awake’ is being checked multiple times a day by various Doctors and Nursers. They’re very caring as they monitor your heart rate, brain waves, temperature and your comfort levels. You listen to them report technical jargon to one another, and now you wish you paid more attention to Spencer last week after he visited his old Doctor.

Thankfully, you’re allowed to have visitors which makes all the difference- even if they are oblivious to the impact they’re making.

The first person to visit you tends to be Garcia, you can hear the urgency in her footsteps as her heels click against the lament flooring. She sits with you for a while before work, telling you about how Morgan keeps singing out of tune whilst she is on the phone to him. You wish you could laugh at the little things she describes, hearing about your family try and carry on without you.

Spencer stops by after work with JJ. You can hear how his voice cracks when he sits beside you, JJ on your other side as she rests her hand on yours. Spencer recites facts about comatose patients and if often interrupted by JJ with some happier news about Henry and describes the drawing she brought. You wish you could see it, feel the textures of the paint and cotton he used.

Yet, as much as you love your family, he still hasn’t been.

“Hey, baby girl.” You hear Morgan walk over toward you, pulling the ancient chair out as it squeaks against the floor. “Garcia tells me you’ve been on your own all day,” He begins and you internally chuckle. “and we can’t have that so I thought you’d love nothing more than your best man to come on by.” Morgan nudges your hand playfully and laughs to himself.

You’re desperate to laugh along, joke back like old times, tell him how much Penelope has been going on about their phone conversations and the workplace issues that have arisen.

“I know you haven’t seen him yet,” Morgan’s tone changes, the light-heartedness has dropped. “but he has been trying, trust me, we see it every day.” A sigh follows from him, and Morgan drops his head in his hands, thankful you haven’t had to witness the state Hotch has been getting himself into.

“He tries every day to come and see you, baby girl. He, he makes it to the entrance of the hospital and just,” Morgan knows exactly what it is, but he doesn’t want to tell you.

Sometimes, the silence is enough for you to figure it out. ‘It isn’t his fault.’ You want to yell out, scream at the top of your lungs, but you remain motionless, simply listening.

Hotch enters the hospital every day since the accident. He came in with you, running by your side as you were wheeled straight into surgery. He stood still as the doors slammed in front of him, taking you out of his sight.

“But erm, we found out about the guy who caused this. His name was Robert Kingshill.” Morgan starts, unaware that both Penelope and Spencer have already explained the details to you. You home in and out of Morgan’s explanation about how Robert was an abusive husband, his children both under 5 years. “He died on arrival.”

‘And no one will miss him.’

“Sorry to interrupt,” A new voice chimes in, one of the nurses who has been seeing to you; Savannah. She’s sweet, attentive and engages with your family. “I just have to check her vitals, I’ll be a few minutes at most.”

“Of course, do you want me to step out?” Morgan asks, his voice softening after he clears his throat. You can almost picture him sitting up straighter, flashing that signature Derek Morgan smirk.

“It’s okay, are we still on for dinner tonight?” Savannah asks, catching you completely off guard as your heart rate spikes. “Shit.” She mutters, watching as your heart rate relaxes once more, back to a normal pace.

“What was that?” Morgan speaks up, concern lacing his tone.

Savannah remains silent for a moment, too long for your liking. “Just a spike, they can happen now and then.” She brushes it off and steps out of the room, leaving Morgan with you alone once more.

*

“Do you think she can hear us?” Garcia asks as her hand remains in yours, holding it gently whilst Emily hovers by the window, watching as the rain falls against the window.

A loud disheartened sigh echoes. “I don’t know, Pen.” Emily states as she turns around. “But if she can, it’s kinda rude for her not to wake up.” Emily chuckles, and Penelope joins in for a second.

“If you can hear us, Y/n,” Penelope starts, and you can hear the shake in her voice. “we all love you, and miss you dearly.”

“We’re all still here, and will be until you wake up.” Emily adds as she smiles to Penelope, holding her hand out as she gladly accepts as tears fill her eyes once more.

Sniffing to herself, Penelope glances over to the empty doorway. “And, and Hotch misses you, Y/n. I know, I know he hasn’t been here yet, but he loves you, and Jack does too.”

The thought of Jack causes your heart to ache, how you miss that boy deeply in the evenings when you would go over. Jack would always ask for your help with homework or read with him before he went to sleep. Last month, he called you ‘Mom’ and you didn’t know how to react, neither did Aaron. But you let it happen, and carried it on.

Just as Jack felt he had a new Mom, he was at risk of losing her too.

“Come on, we ought to go, let her rest.” Emily states as she walks over to Penelope, taking her arm.

If only they could hear you. You were done with resting.

*

It has almost been a month. At least that is what you hear them say. Outside it has become colder, snow comes and goes, but it never sticks. With ease, you can now clearly differentiate the nurses and the doctors’ voices, even by the sigh after they do their checks. You’ve heard them discuss your frequent brain activity, which is a good sign. They’re now thinking you’re going to wake up, that it could be any day. But then again, they’ve been saying that for the last two weeks.

Another Doctor walks in and checks over you, nothing out of the ordinary as you wish he would stop humming that awful TV show tune. “You have a visitor this morning, Miss Y/L/N.” He states which is unusual, your visitors are never announced to you, they just sort of appear.

Your ears perk up to the sound of shuffling, quickly followed by a restricted sob, one you sadly could pinpoint; Aaron.

“Hi, Y/n,” Aaron quietly speaks up, his voice hoarse as the chair scrapes across the floor and he reaches out, taking your cold hand in his. “I’m sorry I haven’t been sooner.” He turns to business mode, forcing confidence even though he’s breaking apart, seeing you like this. “I just,”

‘It’s okay, Aaron. Take your time.’ You want to tell him, that it’s not easy, nothing about this is. But you simply listen as he exhales shakily and he takes lifts his other hand, enveloping yours into both of his.

A small sigh breaks the moment of silence. “Jack, he keeps asking about where you are. I’m running out of options here, Y/n.” He chuckles out of worry. “Jessica has been great, taking care of him and everything, I’ve barely left my office since the accident.” Hotch explains, seeing flashes of light illuminating you that night, like an angel. The excitement in your expression turning to pure terror as he ran toward you, but was too late.

Hotch was always too late to save the women he loves.

“I just, I need you, Y/n.” Hotch mutters. “I can’t lose you too, I just can’t.” Soft cries sound from him as the door opens, and he sniffs quietly.

“Sorry to interrupt, I’ll come back later.” Someone speaks up, and Hotch nods to them before returning his attention to you.

He tried not to stare at the evident wounds and scars that will line your skin forever. The stitches on your forehead from where you hit the ground.

Hotch will never forget how he held you in his arms as you were bleeding, eyes glazed over as he yelled for you to keep your eyes open.

“I know sometimes things aren’t always easy for us, with cases and barely having time to ourselves. But I really wanted that night to be special, you deserved a night to be reminded how wonderful you are.” Hotch chuckles dryly, looking around the room. “Look where that got us.”

‘It’s not your fault, Aaron.’ You scream internally, wishing you could just take hold of his hand, squeeze it tightly and never let go. ‘Please, just listen to me, please.’

“I know it’s taken me too long to get here, but I don’t know if I can do this, Y/n.” Hotch’s voice hitches as his hands begin to slip out from yours. “Reid mentioned how talking to comatose patients is supposed to help but er, I guess we’ll eventually find out.”

Rising to his feet, you plead for him to stay, to not leave you here alone.

“I love you Y/n.” Hotch calls out as he stands in the doorway, seeing your chest rising and falling rhythmically, remembering the days where you’d lie beside him in bed, enjoying the moment of tranquil before Jack wound run through the door, waking you from a deep sleep. “I promise I’ll be back soon.”

As Hotch turns the corner, he can’t stop the tears from falling as he collapses against one of the walls. Silent cries sound from his lips as a Nurse approaches him, but he brushes her off.

“Aar,” Your lips begin to part, a faint sound leaving them. But then silence returns, and you’re still trapped in your mind, wishing he could return.

PART TWO

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

The things we never tell.

[[Zuko x Reader]]

Summary: After the war Y/N strays away from her friends, and her relationship with Zuko seemed everytime more distant, slowly she starts to fall into a darker place.

A/N: I took a very extensive but very needed break, I’m incredibly sorry to anyone who sent me a request before I disappeared and was left waiting for me to post it but my mental health was not the best during this past few months and it’s been hard to do anything at all. But I’m back and I hope writing again gives me a sense of purpose or something lol. Talking about mental health, this fic talks about heavy topics like depression and isolation, if you’re not confortable with that or are going through this stuff I recommend skipping this one, I will have lighter fics coming soon. Remember you are never alone, no matter how much you feel like it. There’s always someone to reach out to or ask for help.

Requested: Yes!!!! By a lovely blog that deactivated but went by the name of aristasiaclarke :( (yes that’s how long I’ve been away) But side note, if you sent me a request before my break and would still like me to write it send it to me again I’d be more that happy to do it!

Warnings: Depression, Anxety, Isolation, Angst

~IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUESTS DONT HESITATE TO ASK ~

The war was over, it had been for months now, yet some things hadn’t gone back to normal . You decided to stay in the palace after Zuko was crowned since your relationship with him had only grown stronger by being so close to losing eachother. Your friends on the other hand all went their separate ways. The friend group you’d spent so many days with, planning on how to defeat the firelord, training, camping, going on missions, it all became just memories and it had been so long since you’d all been together last. You couldn’t complain though, you understood after everything that had happened all your friends were left with many responsibilities laying on their shoulders and, in a way, none of you were the same kids you were when this adventure started. You had all grown up.

Zuko and you spent a lot of time together those first few months since you moved in, that period of time when his people understood his need to settle into his position and take charge of his nation, but after that was over the workload was relentless, Zuko had been left with a broken nation and the full responsibility of fixing it. At first he always made sure to eat every meal with you, chat and update you on everything new that had happened, little by little he started to miss lunch and then it was dinner, soon breakfast and any midday break was gone as well. It came to a point where you rarely saw him at all, him working so late you were usually asleep by the time he came to bed, if he did at all, and you waking up to an empty bed every morning.

Slowly but surely a feeling you knew all too well started reappearing in your chest, something you hadn’t felt in years and were too scared of to even acknowledge. You tried to figure out what to do with all the free time you had in your hands so the feeling wouldn’t consume your mind, you remodeled at least fiver rooms in the palace, picked up several hobbies, offered your help to servants all around just to be rejected, anything and everything your mind could think of, but nothing was enough. That darkness and emptiness inside of you seemed to be determined to conquer your every waking moment once again.

Last time this happened you had your old friends around you, back at home. You family did everything they could to help you, and little by little you learnt how to heal. But this was different, all you had now were empty hallways that lead to even emptier rooms, and the ones that weren’t empty you weren’t permitted to go into.

Days were longer and shorter at the same time; on one hand, a day seemed to last ages, all you did was wait til night fell so you could go back to bed and rest, on the other you started spending more time inside your room, taking naps here and there turned into sleeping most of your days, taking baths became a task harder than any of the ones you’d had to complete in your adventure days, the curtains stayed closed and the bed unmade, day and night slowly started to blend in together.

Servants noticed first, they knocked on the door several times a day to ask if you needed anything at all, to which you would always answer no. When you stopped going to the dinner hall they started to bring food to you, most of which you didn’t eat. One too many times they even had to drag you to the bath so they could get a chance to clean your room.

It was your personal maid who had decided to finally bring in the palace medic. After running some tests on you he concluded there was nothing wrong with you and all it could be was hormonal changes. But hormonal changes weren’t supposed to last weeks, not to mention months.

The maid tried encouraging you to go out to town, visit some new boutique that had opened or a restaurant with great reviews, but all you ever said was “maybe tomorrow”. She came to understand that tomorrow wouldn’t come.

—————————

One day she decided to not stand by and witness a girl who had once been the light in every room wither away. It took all her courage to approach the fire lord,. Even though she knew of his kindness and how different he was from his predecessor he was still an intimidating ruler.

“Fire lord” she called as the young man walked through the palace surrounded by his officials, discussing some political matter she assumed. He didn’t seem to hear her so she sped up and stood in front of the group of men.

“I’m sorry but any issue at the moment will have to wait, important matters need to be addressed with urgency.” He informed her with his usual formal tone.

“Your majesty, it’s miss Y/N, she-” the maid started but was soon interrupted

“Yes, well if she requires my presence please inform her I’m occupied at the moment, but whatever she needs she can ask the help to do it for her.” Zuko attempt to walk past her but the maid stopped him once again.

“Your majesty, I hope I’m not being too bold but I don’t think you understand, she’s very unwell.” the maid saw as Zuko was about to protest her audacity, but once his eyes fell on her he seemed to realize the seriousness of the matter.

Zuko’s heart sank, all kinds of thoughts went through his head, had you gotten injured? Had one of the rebellious groups he’d been dealing with infiltrated the castle and taken you? had you fallen ill with a terrible condition? He soon turned to his second in command and said “You can take charge from here”

The man rather surprised replied after a few seconds “Your majesty, this matter requires your presence, it can not wait.”

“Well it will have to, I’m going to be unavailable the rest of the day. I’m sure you all can manage without me.”

———————

Nothing could’ve prepared Zuko for the sight he encountered when he entered the royal chambers. He hadn’t sleept there a few nights in a row, not wanting to wake you up at late hours when he was done with his workload of the day, but even when he did sleep there he was too tired to even notice anything wrong. Now, at broad daylight, he saw it all.

You were cuddled up under the covers, your hair matted and messier than ever, very dark under eye bags and an extremely pale complexion, even laying down and under blankets and covers he could tell you’d lost a worryingly amount of weight. He’d never seen you in such state.

“What happened to her? Is she ill?” Zuko asked the maid who stood next to him.

“The medic has been called, your majesty, he wasn’t able to point out anything wrong with her. Said it was just hormonal changes, but I don’t think that’s what’s going on.” she said softly.

“Well then bring another doctor in. Someone has to know what’s wrong.”

“Yes, your majesty, we’ll being someone else in first thing tomorrow.” she bowed and was about to leave the room when the firelord stopped her.

“Thank you... for bringing this to my attention and for looking after her.”

The maid just bowed once again and made her way out of the room. Zuko walked up to you, your eyes were closed and even in your sleep an uneasy expression was plastered on your face.

“Love...” he cooed stoking the side of your face slowly. “Hey, darling... wake up.”

He made sure to rest his hand on your forehead to see if you had a fever, but on the contrary you were rather cold. You barely opened your eyes, but it was enough for Zuko to see how the light that had once been there was now gone.

“Zuko?” you asked, your voice barely audible and raspy as you tried to blink the sleepiness away slowly.

“Hey, do you feel sick Y/N? Does anything hurt?” Zuko’s hand had moved from your forehead to your cheek and his thumb was now sweetly caressing your skin.

You hadn’t felt a loving touch in what felt like so long, you’d almost forgotten that you could feel something good and not painful. It was all it took for tears to slowly start forming in your eyes and eventually rolling down your face.

At the sight of your partner’s concern, you forced yourself to smile a little and respond “Nothing hurts.”

“Y/N... something’s not right. I’ve never seen you like this before, i need you to tell me what’s going on.” Zuko’s voice was almost breaking, you could tell how hard he was trying to be strong and keep collected for you, this broke your heart even more.

You took in a deep breath, your mind running while trying to find an answer for him. You knew what was wrong, you’d ignored it so far, pushed it away even though it now consumed your every waking moment, but you knew you couldn’t do this anymore. “I don’t feel well, Zuko. I haven’t for a while now.”

“Are you ill? We’ve called a doctor already, he should be-” He said before you cut him off.

“Zuko... It’s not that kind of unwell.” you almost whispered. “A doctor can’t help me with this.”

The firelord seemed lost for a while, not quite sure of what you meant. You took a second before sitting up on the bed and pressing your back against the headboard. You decided to recount the events of the last time you’d gone through this to him, every sleepless night and every full of sleep day, the multiple crying sessions, the pain and hopelessness, the ever changing appetite, the heavy chest you couldn’t seem to get rid of. This was all terribly hard for you to do but needed to be done, for your sake and for his. Zuko didn’t seem to understand at first, his eyes looking at you attentively, waiting for the moment where the pieces of your story would fall into place. It took you saying how what was wrong with you wasn’t physical but rather emotional for him to get what you were referring to. His face had fallen into a heartbreaking expression, you didn’t know if it was guilt or pity or something in between.

Once you were done and the tears that pooled in your eyes while tellling your story had fallen, Zuko held your hand tightly. “This is all my fault. You should’ve been my priority.”

“Zuko...no. This isn’t your fault, it’s nobody’s fault.” You assured him as your hand went up to his cheek.

“I’m so sorry. You shouln’t have had to deal with this alone. You were there for me when no one else was and I want to do the same for you, always.” He tilted his head into your palm before turning slightly to kiss it.

“I’d like that... I really would.”

For the rest of that night, you and your partner opened up to each other like you’d never had before. For the first time since the war had ended you didn’t feel so alone, you were together and that made you feel like you had the strength to get better, maybe not today or in the days to come, but someday. He gave you hope.

[jetaime-jespere]

Under The Weather

Some pointless fluff that's been floating around my head for a few days. Also on ao3 🙂

It’s not the usual alarm clock that wakes her this time - the tauntingly peaceful melody that she now associates with being ousted from a dream every morning.

In fact, Emily is hardly awake. Her eyes are still sealed shut, she’s still nestled under the covers because the thought of moving is almost unbearable. Even in her sleep induced haze, the only thing she’s fully aware of is just how shitty she feels, like every part of her body has somehow teamed up against her in unison. What started last night as a subtle headache is now accompanied by a persistent rawness in the back of her throat. The same pain has crept in to settle behind her eyes, and now radiates around her head, like a pair of gnarled hands wrapped and clenched around her brain. But that isn’t the only thing - everything just hurts. Her limbs feel like lead, her throat is now on fire, lips cracked and chapped from the winter air. Her mouth is dry as dust as she grapples for the glass of water Aaron had left on her nightstand hours ago - something he’s done since they moved in together.

Cracking one eye open takes monumentally more effort than it should. The wind rattles against the windows, whistling through the bitterly cold February morning and Emily groans at the prospect of even moving from the safety of their warm bed. A glance at the clock tells her it’s 5:40. Aaron’s side is empty, the sheets cooled, but she can hear the steady pulse of the shower, see the steam curling out from under the door. The cloying pull of sleep is too consuming, the glass of water all but forgotten as Emily groans. The notion of having to get up in less than a half an hour is making her stomach roil in protest.

Instead, she burrows herself deeper into the blankets, wishing somehow this day would somehow restart itself. Her eyelids are too heavy to stay open, even though the looming reality of her alarm hovers over her, along with the daunting challenge of making it through the day. Emily remembers the stack of unfinished case reports left on her desk from yesterday, abandoned in the wake of remembering Ava’s ballet class just a few minutes too late to be early for once. That’s about the time the headache started, subtle enough to temporarily ignore as their daughter happily chattered away in the backseat, little legs kicking against the leather upholstered seat - a story about unicorns and fairies, one Emily could probably retell herself she’s heard it so many times. If only she knew then.

The next thing she’s aware of is Aaron bending down to kiss her awake, fresh from the shower and half dressed in an undershirt, his skin still damp as he murmurs good morning . The whiff of eucalyptus soap and his mouthwash only makes her dizzy as she all but pushes her husband away from her with an ill attempted protest against his affection. “Five more minutes,” she croaks. “S’tired.”

“Sweetheart?” Aaron questions even though he doesn’t have to. He’s no stranger to her indifference to early mornings, the way her arms wind around his neck to pull him close most days when he wakes her with the same kisses, the same sweet nothings in her ear. On the rare occasion when they have more time, he ends up back in bed with her, making the most of a few precious moments. Those mornings are his favorites - the ones where he gets to press her into the mattress, get her leg over his shoulder, seal his mouth against hers to muffle the moans he hasn’t grown tired of hearing even years after he first heard them. But this is different. He figures it out immediately, knuckles brushing against her flaming cheek, skin clammy under his touch.

“Hmmph?” Emily shrugs out from under his touch, the cool hand on her burning forehead a reminder of just how awful she feels. “Five more minutes and I’ll get up.”

Aaron laughs softly, already reaching for his phone on the dresser. “Not a chance.”

“I’ll be fine in a half hour.” It’s a futile attempt; Aaron knows her better than she knows herself by now. Emily doesn’t get sick often, maybe once every few years. But when she does, it hits hard and fast, rendering her inherently useless for a day or two, and they’re all a little thrown off kilter without her. Even though her eyes are closed she can practically see him making arrangements - school dropoff and pickup, soccer practice for Jack, ice skating lessons for Ava. It’s also a Wednesday, the one day a week he spends mostly in meetings as unit chief. It’s the day she picks up more slack around the house, handles the after school activities in addition to her own professional responsibilities. It’s a routine they’ve perfected through trial and error over time.

“You weren’t yourself last night,” he sinks down beside her, his weight dipping the mattress down as he pushes some hair from her face. “You barely touched your dinner. You fell asleep with the light on,” he adds pointedly, pressing his lips to his wife’s forehead for confirmation. “And you definitely have a fever.”

“Do not,” she argues. It’s becoming harder and harder to challenge him, a battle she knows she’ll ultimately lose. There’s no way he’ll let her out the door let alone into the BAU at this point. Despite the sweat that trickles down her back, her teeth chatter together.

Aaron wraps her into his arms, aware of how she melds against his chest as she seeks the warm comfort of his body. “Do too.” His tone is light, which only manages to frustrate her more. “And you’re staying home today. Don’t even try to argue with me.”

Emily attempts to pull away from his embrace. “I have a meeting too, you know. Jack has practice and Ava -”

“Has ice skating. I know, Sweetheart.” Aaron gently pushes her back down, tucking the blankets around her. “I know their schedule. And yours. We’ll manage.” But he’s already reaching for his phone, dialing a number he knows by heart.

“Who are you calling?” She asks weakly, succumbing to his insistence. The sky has lightened to a shade of dark blue instead of inky black, the first traces of the winter morning starting to peek through the curtains.

“I’m texting Garcia. If she can take Ava this afternoon, I can get Jack to soccer after my last meeting.”

Emily grumbles while he taps out a message as she runs through her day ahead. There are her own meetings, of course, a slew of chores around the house waiting when she gets home, all the little things that accumulate during the week without fail, over and over. Aaron can almost read her mind as he gets dressed, disappearing into the depths of their closet to pluck a suit from the rack on his side. “Things won’t implode without you, Em. We can survive one day.”

From her place in bed, Emily watches him dress, securing the sleeves of his dress shirt, the jacket stretching across his broad shoulders over the crisp fabric of his shirt. Some days, she can’t believe they’ve come this far. Seven years of marriage has brought its fair share of ups and downs, most recently an ill-timed miscarriage in the days before Christmas. She hadn’t been too far along - ten weeks - but December 23rd was spent at her doctor, Aaron’s hand wrapped around hers as the news was broken, their eyes glued to the ultrasound screen. They hadn’t been trying at all. It was a surprise neither of them expected, which only seemed to worsen the blow when it abruptly ended. Emily had been the picture of composed, smiling through her grief on Christmas Eve, distracted by Ava and Jack’s excitement, the endless mountain of gifts to smuggle from their closet under the tree, only to spend the early hours of Christmas morning crying in his arms until he rocked her to sleep. She closes her eyes, wills herself not to think of it. It’s still a little too soon.

When he’s fully dressed, traces of cologne lingering in the air, Aaron gathers a box of tissues and fills a glass of water, setting both down next to Emily. “I’ll bring you some toast before I leave. You need to eat something.”

“You need to wake -”

“I’m already -”

“Mommy?” The voice outside the door tells them at least one more Hotchner is already awake. Aaron drops a quick kiss on Emily’s head, frowning when he notes how warm she is. He makes a mental note to bring some ibuprofen with the toast and opens the door just a crack to find their daughter on the other side, fully dressed, not a hair out of place.

“Where’s Mommy?” He’s met with the round, concerned eyes that belong to Ava. Even at six, she could be Emily’s clone, with sleek dark locks and the same pale skin. Ava is precocious, sharp as a tack yet sensitive, hesitant to trust but loyal to a fault. Her arrival in the world had been dramatic, at one point downright terrifying for a few minutes, shoulder dystocia to blame. Aaron had turned ghostly pale as the doctors rattled off medical jargon he’d only ever seen dramatized on primetime television. Yet it was that same efficiency and urgency that ultimately brought their daughter safely into the world a short time later. The moment she was placed in his hands, Aaron was completely smitten, his world forever changed.

“Mommy isn’t feeling well, Ava.” Aaron explains with an abundance of patience, his tone soft and reassuring. In the days after Christmas, following the miscarriage, Ava had been confused when Aaron took Emily’s usual place at the new, massive dollhouse from Santa, doing his best to display the same enthusiasm his wife so effortlessly showed. He’d uttered the same words - Mommy isn't feeling well - when she protested, complaining about his doll handling skills and seeming inability to make their hair look half as good as Emily did. Even though his placations  held an entirely different meaning then, Ava questioned him relentlessly. Telling a version of the truth had been harder than he anticipated, for more reasons that one.

“Is Mommy okay?” Ava asks, persistent as ever.

“She’s fine, honey. Just the flu. Remember when you had it in Kindergarten? You got to stay home while Jack went to school. Mommy and I took turns staying home with you? You got to eat popsicles in bed and watch TV during the day?”

Ava nods, not fully convinced as she tries to poke her head further into their bedroom. “I guess.”

“That’s what Mommy has, honey. Grown-ups get sick too. So Daddy is going to drive you to school. Aunt Penelope is going to take you to ice skating lessons this afternoon.”

Ava squeals with delight at the mention of Garcia, clapping her tiny hands together, only to have the expression melt off her face seconds later. Then she frowns. “But Daddy,” she whispers slowly, her resemblance to Emily and similar mannerisms uncanny, as if profiling him even at the tender age of six. “You don’t know the Good Morning song.”

Aaron checks his watch and pinches the bridge of his nose as he peers into the hallway. Jack’s bedroom door is still firmly closed, indicating his son is most likely still sound asleep. Waking him is the next battle, one of his least favorite tasks as of late. “What song, Ava?” He sighs, not missing the fleeting touch of amusement that crosses Emily’s face from across the room, the softest of laughs. Even in her current state, pale and tired, clearly more than under the weather, Aaron thinks she’s stunning.

“Mommy and I always sing the Good Morning song on the way to school.” Ava folds her arms across her chest, tapping her foot against the floor. “If you don’t know the words -” Her dark eyes double in size, widening impossibly as she stubs her toe with disappointment. “How can you drive me to school?”

“Honey -”

“Mommy knows all the words.”

“Ava - “

“Daddy.” She challenges, sticking her lower lip out in a whiny pout. Aaron knows what’s ahead. Even though Ava has him completely wrapped around her tiny finger, their daughter absolutely adores her mother, never missing an opportunity to steal a few quiet moments together. He often finds Ava curled in Emily’s lap, listening to a story, or playing dress up with some of Emily’s old clothes. Aaron has caught a few misplaced tubes of lipstick hidden in her dress-up box, ones Emily thought she lost long ago. He’s seen the pictures she draws, the way Ava always draws Emily next to her in each one. It tugs on every single one of his heartstrings, every single time.

“Mommy will teach me,” he assures her, crouching down to her level, bringing her to lean on his knee. “Daddy will do his best to know all the words before I take you to school.” He ruffles Ava’s hair as she beams, seemingly appeased by his effort. “Can you be my special helper this morning and wake Jack for me?”

Her face brightens instantly, a mischievous grin spreading across her face at the thought of what she’s being asked to do - something that, most of the time, she’s actively told not to do. “Okay!”

Aaron grimaces slightly as Ava skips off down the hall. There’s a finite window of time until he’s left to deal with Jack’s morning moodiness, exacerbated by his sister’s surprise wakeup call. But it’s worth the few extra minutes he’ll get to spend with his wife. Emily is now fully awake, looking even more miserable than she had moments before.

“You’re on your own for the good morning song,” she rasps sarcastically. Her voice is hoarse, even as she tries to smile. “Couldn’t sing it for you if I tried.”

“I think I’m going to take her for donuts. Those strawberry frosted ones she loves?” He slips back in bed beside Emily, pulling her into his arms once again. “Distraction at its finest.”

“The ones I love,” Emily reminds him, swiping her thumb across his cheek. “Good luck.”

“Right. Hopefully she’ll forget all about it.” Then he remembers just who he’s talking about - a miniature version of the woman he somehow got lucky enough to call his wife, instantly realizing how wrong he is. He’s a goner; he won’t hear the end of this for days.

“I doubt it. But you can give it a try.” Emily snuggles into his chest, savoring their final few minutes of peace.

…

Winter sun streams through the windows, casting the bedroom in a mix of shadows and blinding light.

She isn’t sure how much time has passed - an hour could easily be three, maybe five. Sleep has consumed her, on and off all morning. Yet she’s uncomfortable, alternating between throwing the covers off and disappearing into them, unable to seek enough warmth as she reaches for one more blanket. Everything still hurts, and topped off by a congestion that settles deep in her lungs, rattles her chest with every cough. She almost feels worse now than she did earlier, if that’s even possible.

The house is quiet, so she hears the subtle rumbling of the garage opening, the soft creak of the door leading into the house. Emily smiles to herself - she’d recognize his footsteps anywhere as he makes his way through the living room. He’s undoubtedly picking up wayward shoes and toys along the way, most likely grumbling about the clutter. He’d never admit it (even if she knows it to be true) but it’s one of his favorite tasks. The mess is a reminder of what they’ve built over time, that sometimes things work out just as they were meant to. Even if it means their house will never be spotless.

She pries one eye open as he shoulders through the bedroom door, slipping his suit jacket off to drape over a chair. “You could have stayed at work.” Emily isn’t surprised at all. She knows him sell enough by now.

“I know.” And while Aaron is fully aware of that, there was never a chance he wasn’t going to come home to tend to her. He stayed at the BAU long enough to get things squared away, arranging plans for the kids, and delegating tasks as needed before making a hasty exit. And now, only a few hours later, he’s back. He checks her forehead, refreshes the glass of water on the nightstand and tosses some tissues into the trash. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Emily shifts to make room beside her. “Worse than before, if that’s possible.” She sighs a little when he wraps her into his embrace. Her head falls against his chest on its own accord. “Ava and Jack?”

“Garcia is taking Ava to ice skating. She’s taking her out for ice cream afterward.” He gets a hand in her hair, rocks her back and forth a little bit until she relaxes fully against him. Almost.

“What about dinner?” Emily mumbles, stifling a cough into her fist. It rattles within her chest, reverberating through her ribs. “She needs real dinner, Aaron.”

“I think she’ll live without vegetables for one night, Emily.”

She’s too tired to argue. “Jack?”

“Dave offered to take him to soccer,” Aaron says, patting her back through the last of the coughing fit and grappling for the water glass on the table. “It’s all taken care of.” His hands are soothing, gentle and strong against the sore, stiff muscles. “You sound terrible.”

Emily pointedly ignores him. “What about you?”

“I cleared my schedule for the rest of the day. Tomorrow too,” he adds with a wink, taking her hands in his own when she starts to object. “I’m making it my mission to get you better.” He shows her the package of popsicles he’d stopped for on the way home, tosses the bag away to the floor. “And I got some of these. Just for you.”

The soft laughter that comes from her is accompanied by yet another hacking cough. It’s the little things he does that are the most thoughtful - a pit stop to the grocery store in the middle of a work day is just one example. “Sounds like you have quite the job ahead of you.” But she’s eyeing the popsicles - it’s the first thing that’s sounded appealing all morning.

“You’re not an easy patient,” Aaron chides as he hands her a cherry flavored one, taking a lemon flavored for himself. “One of the worst I’ve ever dealt with, actually.” He flicks her nose lovingly.

“Is that so?” The cool chill of the frozen ice against her lips and throat is a temporary relief, a moment of reprieve. She doesn’t even notice when a little piece of it breaks off to leave a tiny red stain on the sheets. “You’re no picnic yourself, you know.”

It’s his turn to laugh, because she’s right. He’s just as stubborn, the art of rest and healing lost on them both. “I feel called out.”

“It’s because I’m right,” she quips. And she is.

Emily sleeps fitfully in his arms, only waking up once as the sun sets over the trees in the distance. When her eyes drift open, he has the television remote in one hand, the other anchoring her across his chest. “What time is it?” She mumbles, blinking furiously as her eyes adjust to the dim light.

“Close to five.” He kisses her, rocks her a little to wake her up. “You’ve been sleeping for hours.” Aaron sounds almost pleased that she finally got some solid rest. “I’m going to make you some soup. And don’t tell me I don’t have to.” He untangles himself from her, somehow without disturbing her comfort within their bed. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

His fingers brush across her cheek; she’s not as hot to the touch this time. Emily leans into his hand, curling her fingers around his wrist.

“Thank you for coming home.” She hardly sounds any better, certainly doesn’t feel it either. But having him there somehow makes it slightly more bearable, an unexpected silver lining to all of this. And the reverence in his eyes, the same one she sees every time he looks at her, confirms the fact that he’d do it without question. Another example of the unconditional love he’d promised years before when they exchanged vows in Dave’s backyard.

“There’s nowhere else I should be, Sweetheart.”

Four days later, Aaron wakes up with the same aching muscles and raw throat, barely able to keep his eyes open as a new week awaits them. Emily is only more than happy to return his favor.

[ateezmakemeweep]

richboy!yeosang (part 4)

word count: 7k

fluff

(part 3) (series masterlist)

when you look back on your pregnancy, you’re not gonna remember the rocky start you and yeosang both had. 

your immense fear and yeosang’s anger and just an overall feeling of dread and hysteria that comes with an accidental pregnancy.

it’ll be all the little moments in between that stick with you, the cute stuff and the hard stuff and the wide range of emotions that didn’t even fully prepare you and yeosang for what was to come in parenthood. 

three months:

“this is cute.”

you look over at yeosang holding a tiny pink onesie with the brightest smile on his face, strawberries and cherries scattered around the soft fabric. 

you mirror his smile as you walk closer to him, cocking your head to the side as you narrow your eyes at him. 

“just say you want it be a girl already. i know you do.”

it’d been the debate going on between you two for the past few weeks, you not admitting you want a boy and him not admitting he wants a girl; but you can just tell he does, little comments he makes and the things he picks out when you pop in stores during sunday errands. 

“because it’s pink? it could be for a boy, too,” yeosang says, “that doesn’t mean anything.”

you bite back the smirk threatening to take over your face, not letting it slip that, sometimes, you’ll hear him talking quietly at night. speaking into the darkness about how much he’s wanted to have a little girl to spoil. 

“but you can’t tell your mommy,” he teased, his voice in a hushed whisper. 

he now also has a habit of slipping his hands under your shirt (or more often, his that you stole) and splaying his fingers across your warm skin. 

your stomach is just starting to show, the slightest indication of a bump forming that made his heart warm way more than he ever expected to feel; he knew he’d love to see you pregnant but he had no idea how much it was really gonna effect him. 

watching as your body transformed seamlessly in order to carry his child. 

“not that we should keep secrets from mommy, she just already knows everything,” he corrects, grateful to have your face hidden in his chest so he doesn’t see you smile. 

“i can’t wait for you to meet her. she’s gonna be a lot better at this than me but hopefully you like me, too, baby girl.”

and you don’t have the heart to tell him you hear him at night, nor do you have the heart to tell him the person growing inside of you won’t be able to hear him for a few more weeks. 

but you love how quickly he’s grown comfortable with this idea of becoming a father, finding solace in speaking hushly and sweetly when no one but them are around to hear. 

“it has nothing to do with that,” you squeak, poking at his chest and giggling when he grabs your hand. “i just know. i know everything, right?”

his eyes narrow suspiciously and you have to control the laugh threatening to bubble up from your chest, instead giggling more when he tosses the onesie in the cart and guides you in front of the cart. 

your back is against his chest as you two push the cart together, lingering in the newborn section for far too long as you excitedly look through clothes, books, and toys you already know are gonna clutter the apartment before the baby’s arrival. 

four months:

your eating habits before pregnancy were, admittedly, rather picky. 

everyone in your life had always made fun of you for having the palate of a toddler, straying from anything that didn’t look appetizing or produced a mildly unpleasant smell. 

that’s why, after tons of research and reading up on the journey of pregnancy, yeosang was humored to hear about ‘unusual cravings’ that come about in the first and second trimester. 

“i don’t know, baby, i can’t see you eating anything too disgusting. you’re kind of picky.”

“you’re kind of picky,” you immaturely mock because if pregnancy brain is giving you anything, it’s a lack of witty comebacks and remarks to your smart ass boyfriend.

a snort leaves yeosang’s mouth as he piles fruit into the blender, being sure to add a few extra blueberries after the doctor told you guys it was a good power food to implement into your diet.

it was something that, no matter how hormonal and scatter-brained, you were noticing. how sweet and attentive and just... into the pregnancy he was. 

it was almost shocking you, to be honest. 

because you knew yeosang was sweet, that the tough guy persona he attempts to put up around others is just a macho act, but this whole journey is really making you see just how caring your boyfriend is. 

how he’s so accommodating to you and will drop everything the moment you open your mouth to ask him for something. 

how when your parents were, while in the end thrilled to be grandparents, hesitant and nervous and asked if you wanted to move back in for help, insisted he would take care of you and the baby and they’d have nothing to worry about. 

how everything that should be difficult during this is just so easy because of him, your level of comfort and happiness exponentially high. 

he places your smoothie on the table before leaving a parting kiss on your head, telling you that he’ll be home early and will see you later. you smile and wave happily before resting back on the couch, sipping at your drink as you catch up on school work.

and it’s that same sight that greets yeosang when he comes home a few hours later, emptied cup on the table and your closed laptop resting on your stomach as you nap soundly. 

a smile lights up his face and a warmth spreads over his entire body upon seeing you, any stress or irritation from his work day quickly fading away as he makes his way over to you. 

he bends down and brushes hair from your face, his eyes roaming every feature; he’s excited to see what your child is gonna look like.

if she’ll (because something is just telling him it’s a girl, or maybe it’s just his wishful thinking and hopes), have your eyes or his nose. if she’s gonna have your personality, sweet and gentle with just enough spunk, or be more like him.

his eyes travel down to your shirt-covered stomach, a small smile on his face as he recalls the first time you noticed the change. 

it was after you took a bath, body aching and sore as your body adjusted to morning sickness. 

it was something so small and subtle but you had noticed just before wrapping the towel around yourself, your eyes narrowing as you turned to the side.

“yeosang?” he heard from the bedroom, pushing his laptop and books away as he makes his way to the en suite.

there was no sense of urgency in your voice but he still felt the overwhelmingly need to get to you, some innate protectiveness in him spiking anytime you call his name these days.

“yeah, my love?” he hums, his eyes widening and a smirk crossing his face when he’s greeted by your naked body. 

“oh?” he hums, making his way over and gripping your bare hips. “i would’ve joined you in here earlier if i knew you wanted to-”

“not that, you perv,” you whine, pushing him away lightly before placing your hand on your lower stomach. 

he notices your placement and immediately snaps out of his lustful daze, his eyes watching you carefully for any hint of pain or discomfort; but instead, he’s greeted with the sight of excitement shining in your eyes.

“does my stomach look different to you?” you ask, the small smile on your face making his heat pang in his chest. “there’s a little bump.”

“well no shit, baby,” he teases lightly, his hands going back on your stomach as he looks at you through the mirror. “gotta fit her in there somehow.”

you bite back the smirk on your lips as you meet his gaze, your eyebrow raising before he throws his hands up innocently. 

“or him. gotta find them in there somehow.”

you let out a huff before rolling your eyes, turning back to look at yourself in the mirror. 

you knew you were gonna see some sort of change soon but it’s like finally seeing it begin is making it all sink in. that you’re gonna get bigger and rounder and really start to look and feel more pregnant. 

and while you obviously know that’s a part of this, that makes you a little nervous, too. watching as your body changes and you become more-

“you look beautiful.”

you heart jumps at the compliment still, a small smile on your face as you meet his gaze. it’s soft and warm and sweet and only makes your smile grow bigger, your head cocked to the side as you stare back at him. 

he didn’t know if you needed to hear that right now, if the way you were looking at yourself was just curious and accepting or if you’re brain was gonna start becoming insecure, but he just felt like he needed to say it. 

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, pressing up on your toes to peck his lips sweetly. 

you giggle into this kiss when, after you try to pull away, he drags you back to him and deepens it. a squeal leaves your mouth when his hands grip your thighs and pull you up, your legs wrapping immediately around his waist. 

your towel falls to the ground with a plop as he makes his way to your bed, throwing you down and smiling wider as your giggle rings through the air. 

the gentle lull of fingers running against your skin stirs you awake, a quiet groan escaping you before your eyes flutter open. an uncontrollable smile crosses your lips when you’re able to make out yeosang, his warm hands on your stomach and his soft eyes staring at you.

“hey baby.”

“hi,” you mumble tiredly, your arms outstretched before he chuckles and collapses on top of you. he makes sure to hold himself above you to not crush yo entirely, burying his face in your neck to press short, ticklish kisses. 

“you smell good.”

“i haven’t left this couch, i can’t imagine how.”

he pulls back to look down at you, his hand combing though your messy hair and a laugh threatening to leave his mouth.

“have you had anything to eat yet?”

and he has to hold back a gag when you tell him you’ve only had your peanut butter and cheese, the bizarre craving that left you both shocked and surprised.

five months:

“alright, everyone who thinks it’s a girl, say i.”

you roll your eyes when you hear yeosang’s voice boom the loudest “i,” quickly followed by mingi, hongjoong, seonghwa and san.

“alright, so now everyone’s who correct in thinking it’s a boy, say i.”

“i.”

“i.”

“i-”

“i! will bet my entire bank account that it’s a girl,” san interrupts, nearly throwing his fork across the table as he points it threateningly toward the ‘boy side.’ 

it was the day before your 18-week check up and nothing could’ve prepared you for the chaos that was to come.

the boys had made it a point to come over once a week ever since you told them the news, swapping between ordering food and bringing home cooked meals to fully prepare for their new lives as uncles. 

it was a healthy mix of of fun banter and arguing before an aggressive explosion  of debates like these: guessing the sex of the baby, fighting for spots as godparents and seeing who’s meal is gonna satisfy your pregnant self the most. 

“anyone need $40?” jongho asks, him and wooyoung the most confident you’ve ever seen that you’re gonna have a baby boy - you wish you were as confident as all of them, because you really don’t know what’s gonna come tomorrow.

“fuck you!” san whines, a giggle leaving you as your hand rests on your stomach and you watch the boys argue back and forth. 

yeosang kisses the side of your head as he gathers the plates and cups, seonghwa and yunho quietly talking to you and asking how you’ve been doing. 

they knew it was hard for you to make the decision to not enroll in classes for the spring semester, knowing that the later months of pregnancy and baby’s arrival were far too close to finals time. 

but you seem to be happy about that decision it seems, basking in the easy going pregnancy you’ve had thus far. 

“i’ll probably go back when she’s one or something,” you say absentmindedly, the plan you started concocting in your head when you and yeosang talked about what you were gonna do. 

“my parents said they’d be more than happy to watch her on the days i have class so i think it’ll be okay. i’m definitely going back, though.”

seonghwa and mingi shared a look with matching smiles on their faces, something that went unnoticed to you before the other boys quickly came over and stole your attention away. 

“looks like you got her thinking it’s a girl, too,” seonghwa mumbles to yeosang, the boy biting back a smile. 

he overheard you and couldn’t control the happiness blooming in his chest, watching with a smile as he watches you giggle and hit san and wooyoung’s arms playfully. 

by the time the boys left, absolutely overstaying their welcome as they do every time, you were exhausted. laid out on the couch with your head on the arm, eyes threatening to close before yeosang came over and leant down next to you. 

“you okay?”

“yeah,” you yawn, running your fingers through his hair lazily. “they’re just a little exhausting.”

“a little?” he hums skeptically, a smirk crossing your face as you hold your arms out to him. 

“what?” he smiles, eyes lighting up as he looks at you.

“help me up.”

he pulls you up before scooping you into his arms, a content hum leaving your mouth as he walks toward the bedroom. he places you gently on the bed before pecking your head with a kiss, mumbling for you to change while he gets you a glass of water. 

this was the new night time routine like clockwork, yeosang more often that not carrying your exhausted body in before setting you up with water and waiting until you fell asleep soundly on his chest. 

he comes in a few moments later to see you already in bed, a smile lighting up your face that has him speeding up to get to you. 

your eyes are drooping with your hold on him tight, soft mumbles of “i love you,” in your ear, about to succumb to sleep before you hear his deep voice begin to speak.

“baby, you still up?” 

“hm?” you hum sleepily, your chin resting on his chest as you stare up at him with tired eyes. 

he smiles softly upon seeing your face, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek gently. 

there’s been something about seeing you like this that makes it feels like he’s falling for you again, unable to fully grasp just how much he loves you sometimes. it’s a feeling he once thought was scary, one that he thought he wasn’t even capable of.

but he sees now that’s not the case at all; that, if anything, the feeling only gets stronger and more prevalent the more you two go through. 

“you know i really don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl, right?” he asks, the softness and sweetness of his tone making your tired state lessen. “i’m gonna be happy no matter what tomorrow.”

you can’t even control the giggle that leaves your mouth, reaching up to place a kiss on his lips. 

“i love you,” you tell him, humor and amusement heavy in your tone not taking away from how true it is. 

and from the slight pinkness on his cheeks and the scoff that leaves his mouth, you think he knows you’re only making fun of him a little. 

“of course i know that, silly,” you tell him, his eyes narrowing before you snake your hand down and play with his fingers. 

“but i do think you’ve convinced me it’s a girl, too,” you sigh out, your head resting back on his chest and your eyes closing. “i’ll also be happy either way, though. i think...we’re gonna be good at this.”

the words are quiet and sweet and making his heart jump. but when he looks down to meet your gaze again, he sees your fast asleep against his chest.

“so....” san drags out at next week’s dinner, the seven boys around the table looking at you and yeosang expectantly. “did you guys find out?”

you and yeosang share a smile and nod at them, the table erupting into a burst of chatter and demands to be told who was right. 

“you’re not gonna tell us, are you?” seonghwa asks, the twinge in both your eyes making him far too skeptical. 

a smirk crosses your face as you shake your head no, groans of protest and silent curses filling the apartment. they harass you and yeosang for the rest of the night, going as far as to put up money and chore work to know the answer. 

but you insist that you’re keeping it a surprise, not even letting mingi or yunho know even though you and yeosang decided that, if they want t, they’re gonna have to be the godparents. 

six months:

"this is pretty," you say quietly, tapping your finger on a light yellow that has yeosang’s face falling into a grimace.

"it's not for a nursery, y/n," he mumbles from behind you, the close proximity of his voice causing you to jump. 

you hadn't realized he had moved closer to you as you browsed, his chest now pressed up right against your back. you feel the breath of his words grazing your skin as he looks over your shoulder.

"how 'bout that?" he asks, his arm brushing yours as he points to the most hideous shade of brown you'd ever seen.

"that is so ugly," you bluntly state, his deep chuckle rumbling in your ear as he pulls his arm back to rest on your shoulder. you try not to jump at the open affection and touch he's giving you, his hand ever so often squeezing gently.

"oooh, what about this?" you ask, craning your neck up to show him the color sample. 

your cheeks nearly touch from how close your faces are now, holding your breath as you watch him look at it before meeting your gaze. you resist the urge to swallow nervously, his teasing eyes now looking right into yours.

"pretty," he mumbles, "it'll do."

“pretty,” you say, laid out on the floor as your eyes roam the freshly painted wall yeosang just finished. “it’ll do.”

“oh will it? i’m glad,” yeosang quips sarcastically, paint on his face and his hair a mess of waves as you giggle into your hand. 

keeping the sex of the baby a secret, unfortunately, meant that you and yeosang had no help in painting the nursery. 

it was the second guest room that you two never even touched, the white and beige walls in desperate need of some color for your baby’s arrival.

today reminded you heavily of your and yeosang’s first official date, when you  shopped around the store with him to pick out the paint for his pool house. 

you remember feeling so nervous and out of your element during that time, his chest against your back as you pushed the cart making your heart pound in your chest. 

your cheeks warm when your hear his chuckle, his footsteps moving toward you until his arms reach around you to grasp the bar of the cart.

"you know, you talk a lot of shit one minute and then get unbelievably nervous the next," he lowly mumbles in your ear. "quite easily, might i add."

"i'm not nervous," you snap, placing your hands in the middle of the bar as you to start to push it down the aisle. "what gave you that impression?"

“baby, can you hand me that brush please?” he hums softly, your eyes moving to him atop the ladder. 

you nod your head with a small smile, doing your best to get up despite the size of your growing stomach; you had thought at this point you’d actually be a little tired of being pregnant but, much to your surprise, it wasn’t annoying you too much.

yet. 

“here you go,” you squeak, throwing it up to him just for it to fly past him and clatter back onto the floor by your feet.

he presses his lips together so he doesn’t burst out laughing, his brow raised before you narrow your eyes. it’s a challenge but you eventually bend down and get it, yeosang’s deep chuckles in the background only making you pout. 

“i was gonna start helping you again but i don’t think i should,” you say, defiance and a bratty edge in your tone that he’s secretly missed. “how can you laugh at me?”

“you’re just cute, love, i’m sorry,” he smiles, walking a few steps down and pecking a kiss on your head before continuing with the third wall. 

you decided on three pastel blue walls with one accent wall of wallpaper, a mural of animals and pretty landscape where you’ll eventually put the baby’s name. 

“we still have to decide on a name, you know,” you hum softly, looking around the room. 

it stills fills you with a little disbelief that this is what you guys are preparing for, talking about a name for your child and preparing a room for the baby that’s quickly gonna make their appearance into the world. 

“i know,” he smiles softly, eyes roaming your face to see it’s calm and tranquil. his number one goal during these past months was to keep you as calm and content as possible, the shaky start to the pregnancy still making him feel guilty. 

he turns back to continue the last bit of paint, eyes tired and body aching from hours of painting up and down the walls. you insisted that they hire someone, knowing you wouldn’t be that much help, but he thought this was better.

because similar to you, he couldn’t help but think back to when you painted his pool house together. 

when you two were just starting out and he was every bit as nervous and unfamiliar as you. he didn’t think he was deserving of you but he took you anyway, unable to control the feeling in his chest or overwhelmingly desire to see you.

watch your reactions and how you talk to him, even if most of the time you were yelling or rolling your eyes.  

“this looks like the same blue we painted the pool house, no?” he asks suddenly, your head snapping up before a smile lights up your face.

you knew he probably remembered the date but you weren’t sure if he’d been thinking the same thing today too. 

“it does,” you smile, walking over and picking up your paintbrush. you dip it in the tray and watch the bristles absorb the pretty blue, peeking up at him to see his eyebrows pinched in concentration. 

“i think i like this one a little bit better though.”

“me too,” he hums back, a smile on his face that makes your heart jump. 

he finishes the wall a few moments later, you still brushing the paint through the tray absentmindedly. his presence in front of you halts your movements, his hand reaching down to help you up gently.

you giggle and immediately accept his hand, pecking his lips as you apologize for not doing more. 

“stop,” he chastises, voice soft and sweet as he places a gentle peck on your nose. “you didn’t have to do anything, i just wanted you with me.”

“yeah?” you quip softly, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth as you stare up at him. his eyes darken ever so slightly and you have to resist the urge to laugh, tightening your hold on the paintbrush hidden behind your back. 

“mhm,” he hums lowly, his paint-covered hand reaching out to hold your cheek. “are you hungry? i can make you something or we can-”

and even despite his sweet words and even sweeter intentions, it doesn’t stop you from reaching out and smearing the paintbrush across his cheek. 

and that's how the first tragedy started, you so boldly dipping your finger in the tray and poking two blue dots on his face. 

he stared at you in shock for a second, like he was trying to decipher if you really just did that, while you held back the laugh desperate to bubble out of your chest.

"you didn't."

"i did," you say playfully, "and it shut you up for a few seconds so i just might do it-"

roller in hand, he's quick to smear it over your entire cheek, wet paint grazing your skin and the stray hairs that have fallen out of your bun. your gasp and open-mouthed stare causes his deep chuckle to echo through the pool-house, a sound so foreign to those walls.

"you got my whole face!" you yelp, holding your own roller out like it's a weapon. "i did two little specks on your cheek."

"two specks too many and now you look ridiculous. so i hope you're hap-"

you quickly roll the paint over both his cheeks now, first the right then the left, before dropping it in the pan and running over to the safe zone in the kitchen.

a smile crosses your face as you look at him with a giggle, the boy just standing there in disbelief before his neck snaps up to look at you.

"you're done," is all you hear his deep voice say, the dark teasing causing excitement to run through you until you see him going over to pick up the roller you dropped.

he only stares at you in shock for a few seconds, eyes flashing and face twisting before he shakes his head and grabs onto your waist tightly. 

“you’re done.”

you shake your head as a teasing smile makes it way across your face, attempting to run out of the nursery to prevent another paint tragedy from occurring. 

but he catches you gently around the waist before you can get further, his arms quickly scooping you up. he plops you down on the couch despite your protests, watching with soft amusement as you giggle and shake your head rapidly.

the rest of the night goes by in a flurry of teasing from him and giggles from you, sharing pizza and soda before it feels as if you hadn’t slept in hours; but this was one of the first days you’ve gone without a nap, your body on top of yeosang despite the ever-present fear you’re gonna crush him. 

“if- if i get too heavy, just tell me to get off,” you mumble tiredly, your legs between his as your head rests on his chest. 

he chuckles lightly against your head, wrapping his arms around your back and tightening his hold on you immediately. 

“that’ll never happen,” he mumbles against your head, feeling your smile against his chest before your breaths even out and you’re fast asleep.

seven months:

it was at this point in the pregnancy you felt as if the happy glow was wearing off. 

your stomach was huge, your back was aching, and any time you looked in the mirror, it’s like you didn’t recognize yourself. 

your body wasn’t your body anymore and even your face looked different, cheeks fatter and nose wider in a way that, tonight in particular, was getting to you. 

“he hates me. i know he does,” you cry out, mingi and yunho looking at you like you’ve grown five heads. 

because after you slightly burnt the cookies in the oven you’d been craving, yeosang out with wooyoung and san helping them set up apartment furniture, you’d been on a hormonal, downward spiral since. 

you felt big and ugly and undesirable. 

you felt as if you looked miserable and depressed and like you didn’t wanna be a mother at all. 

you felt like yeosang didn’t love you anymore, sick of doting on you and putting up with your naps and every thing else you’ve annoyed him with for the past seven months.

“i hate the guy most days, y/n, but i can tell you right now he loves you more than anyone else in the world. it’s the only reason i haven’t actually beat his ass.”

yunho lets out a snort, less at mingi’s words and more so at picturing his sweet fiancé beating someone up. but when the boy shoots his head toward him, he sends a smile and nod his way. 

“mingi’s right, babe. he could absolutely beat him up and he hasn’t. because we know how much he loves you.”

“he might love me but he doesn’t like me,” you whine, tears brimming your eyes and threatening to overflow. 

usually, the second these two boys see you on the verge of tears, they hate it. will do everything in their power to stop it because they hate seeing you so sad and upset. 

but this is making them almost wanna laugh, knowing the hormones that come with the later part of the pregnancy can be very daunting. 

“he likes you and he loves you, y/n, i can promise you that,” yunho says, the smile on his face making you pull your eyebrows together and let out more cries. 

it’s upon yeosang opening the door a few moments later that yunho and mingi shoot up, rushing toward the boy who looks at them in surprise. 

“what the-”

“she’s been crying all day and thinks you hate her.”

“actually, she thinks you love her but don’t like her,” mingi whispers, yeosang’s face twisting into one of confusion.

but before he can ask them to explain, or ask what the hell you even meant by that, he hears cries coming from the couch that have him rushing over before the two boys can say anything else.

“hey, my love. what’s wrong?” he asks, plopping down next to you and pulling you into him.

you slump against him immediately, missing him and his warmth despite the fact he was only gone for a few hours; you were usually clingy and needy at night but it appeared to get worse these days.

you only slump against him and shake your head, suddenly embarrassed and upset and just wanting everything to be over. you just want this baby out of you already, you want your body back to normal and you want to stop feeling like this some days. 

the faint sound of the front door closing goes unheard by both of you, yeosang’s arm around you and your head on his chest before he pulls back and looks down at you.

“why’d they tell me you were crying all day?” yeosang questions softly, a frown on his face because the thought physically pains him. “and why do you think i don’t like you? i love you, baby.”

“i know.... i know you love me but i don’t think you like me anymore,” you whine, a smirk threatening to take over his face.

but he knows the last thing to do in front of a pregnant, hormonal woman is to laugh in the face of her emotional breakdown. so instead, he remains soft and gentle, pulling you on top of him and brushing his fingers through your hair as you whimper into him.

“i’m so sick of being pregnant, yeosang. i just feel like i’ve been annoying and tired and sleeping all day. i’m so big and ugly and my face has changed and i-”

“stop.”

his voice is deep and harsh and immediate, the command in his voice that you know means there will be no exceptions. 

he sees your eyebrows pulled together in protest, his face softening before he cups yours and gently caresses your skin; he knows he can’t imagine how tiresome it is to go through this process but he also knows by no means are you ugly or incapable of doing this. 

“i know you’re tired of this, baby, and i’m sorry. but you’re not ugly. you couldn’t be ugly if you tired, pretty girl,” he says, the pout on your lips making him smile and press a kiss on your mouth. 

“and you gotta eat to keep my child healthy and strong, no?” he asks, his eyebrow raised as his hands lower to your round stomach. 

he thought the transformation was amazing actually, what the human body could do and watching you become like this just to fit something he put inside you. 

“so if you weren’t getting bigger, we’d be having problems. you’re doing so good, baby, you really are. and you’re gonna be such a good mom, too. you only have a little bit more to get through, okay?”

his words calm you as much as they make your heart flutter, the tears now swarming in your eyes one from happiness. 

“so you do like me?” 

and he didn’t expect that to be the next thing you say after that, a deep chuckle bubbling from his mouth that makes a wet giggle leave your own. 

“yes, baby. i like you.”

eight months:

you thought nothing was gonna beat the panic you felt when you first found out you were pregnant. 

your shaking hands and pounding heart and the overwhelming fear that you and yeosang weren’t gonna be able to get through this. 

now, though, the fears feel much more real and much more terrifying. 

knowing that, in just a month, a third person is gonna be a part of your little family. someone you’re gonna be completely and solely responsible for, making sure their needs are met and you raise them to be a good human being. 

and it’s really hitting you tonight, after some mild cramping landed you in the doctor’s office where you were assured it was just your body’s response in preparing for labor.

but that was enough to completely scare you. leave you silent on the car ride home with your sweaty palm in yeosang’s and your mind racing a mile a minute.

“you’re quiet,” yeosang hums softly, the air between you thick as his thumb caresses your hand.

he felt a similar surge of panic rush through him when you told him about the mild discomfort in your stomach, all but jumping up and out the door to get you to the doctor immediately. 

you make a noise of approval in the back of your throat, the only response other than the way you tighten in his hand in yours. 

because right now, with all of these racing thoughts, you just wanna stop.

stop thinking about everything that could go wrong in the next month, the pain of labor and dealing with a newborn. 

you wanna stop thinking about you and yeosang not handling the transition well, lashing out at each other after sleepless nights full of the baby’s crying as you try trying to adjust to this new life. 

your walk up to the apartment is silent as well, going right into your room and plopping face down on the cold sheets. 

the bed dips a few moments later and you make a tired groan when yeosang drags you up toward the pillows, placing you in front of him before leaning you back. 

your back rests on his front for a few calming moments, his hands rubbing slowly over your stomach in a way he’s gotten used to over these past few days. 

the moment you told him you had cramps, you weren’t surprised when he started doing that. 

there hasn’t been a moment throughout this pregnancy when he wasn’t comforting you or assuring you in some way. holding your hand or stroking your hair and just making sure at all times, you were feeling happy and healthy.

but now it’s like you’re so beyond that point, tired and frustrated and just feeling so anxious about what’s to come.

“are you scared for her to come?”

yeosang’s hands stop on your stomach when he hears you utter those words, shifting your body until you’re sitting in front of him. 

your eyes are wide and glossy and he can’t help but smile at how pretty you look, taking your face in his hands gently. 

“of course i am,” he says honestly, not wanting to sugar coat anything or lie to you. “but i’m also excited to meet her. we’re as prepared as we can be, right? so we’ll just have to figure it out one day at a time.”

“i know,” you sigh out, that piece of advice everyone in your life is telling you. to take the early challenges of motherhood one day at a time; but you think it’s easier said than done, especially with a month left to just sit here and dwell on things. 

“but i don’t know.... are we really ready? we’re not even married, yeosang. what if everyone at the hospital is like.... yikes.”

a snort leaves his mouth that he couldn’t hold back, not liking to laugh at the comments and exaggerations you make these days but sometimes not being able to help it. 

“again, baby, if you wanna get married right now, i’ll go out and get a ring. but otherwise, no one is gonna say shit.”

“that’s not why i said it,” you whine, pushing him playfully and cracking a smile at his deep chuckle. “i’m just... scared about a lot of things again, yeosang. it was nice in, like, the middle of this. and it didn’t seem too bad. but now it’s all feeling very real again and i....i don’t know if i’ll be able to do it.”

“of course you’ll be able to do it,” yeosang mumbles softly, his fingers tracing shapes on your shoulder. “you made it this far, baby, and you’ve been doing so good. i already told mi that you’re gonna be better at this than me.”

a smile lights up your face as you hear him say your daughter’s name aloud, the long winded decision in picking your child’s name finally coming to an end last week.

you both had gone back and forth about what kind of names you wanted, discussing meanings and how it sounded and voting out what you absolutely didn’t want. 

jang-mi was the name yeosang suggested that you immediately loved, could see it fitting right next to yours on a christmas card or shouting it through the apartment when she’s a crazy toddler. 

“that’s funny because i told her the same thing,” you chuckle out quietly, letting out a sigh as you roll over and curl into him.

you were soaking in the bath one morning, all but demanding yeosang to sleep in one weekend when you felt her kicking inside you. 

the first time you felt it all a few months ago, you remember nearly yelping. alarming yeosang to the severest degree and watching him rush into the living room to see you staring at him shock.

but he was just as fascinated and happy as you, feeling kicks from inside your stomach as prove that there really was a baby growing in there. 

you’d gotten used to it though, every time you felt it talking to her quietly or giggling at the sensation. 

telling her how excited you are to meet her despite your nerves, sharing stories or readings books and just informing her of the true chaos she’s gonna encounter with her father and uncles. 

“i already know mingi’s gonna try to be strict with you but i think you’ll have him wrapped around your finger the tightest,” you predicted, above all else excited to see him interact with a baby. 

“and your daddy’s gonna act like he doesn’t know what he’s doing or is bad at it. but i think he’ll be a lot better at this than me, jang-mi. he acts tough and strong and mean but he’s... the best man ever. and i’m happy he’s your dad.”

yeosang doesn’t have the heart to tell you he heard you in the bath that day, remembering how quickly tears were in his eyes and he was, for a brief moment, the happiest he’d ever felt in his life.  

“then maybe we’ll both do a good job,” he hums quietly, already knowing full well that, whatever happens, she’s gonna have you both wrapped around her finger. 

nine months:

your water broke two weeks early and nothing could have prepared you for the terror of that moment. 

how one second, you were walking in the coffee shop with mingi and yunho and the next, wetness poured down your legs and onto the floor below you. the inside of your pink maternity dress was sticking uncomfortably, a confused expression overtaking your face. 

“uhhh, guys...” 

“i think i’m gonna get a scone,” yunho says, looking up at the menu despite going here for years.

“no, get the cookies again.”

“you never eat them, babe, why would we-”

“guys...”

“doesn’t he never eat the cookies, y/n?” yunho asks, his head turning to side-eye you before he notices your look of discomfort. “what’s wrong?”

and it’s at that that mingi turns his head, looking over your face before catching the wetness on your dress and at your feet. he looks from the floor to you several times, like he’s trying to put two and two together before his mouth hangs open almost comically.

but because he’s mingi, you should’ve known the words leaving his mouth were gonna be even more funny, even if you didn’t think it at the time. 

“did you just piss?” 

it’s yunho’s delayed realization that kicks everything into gear, his hand bouncing off mingi’s head before he exclaims that your water just broke. 

excitement and shock and even a little bit of chaos erupts throughout the coffee shop in the minutes after, strangers asking if they could help and the barista’s you’ve come to know clapping their hands and looking on excitedly. 

“call yeosang,” yunho says, flagging down a taxi just as the fear and anticipation start to build in you. 

he answers on the 2nd ring when he sees mingi’s name pop up, knowing full well that the boy was spending the day with you; because he was actually guilty in demanding, with the due date just around the corner, that someone was with you at all times. 

“hello?”

“yeosang...”

he doesn’t know how but the second he hears your voice, he can just tell something’s not right. 

“what happened? is everything okay?”

you lick over your lips anxiously, knowing for the past nine months you guys have been both terrified and waiting for this day. just a few (or many) hours away from meeting your daughter.

“she’s coming.”

the line goes silent for a few moments, just the sound of his breathing before he starts to shuffle and rush toward his boss’s office.

you’re so lost in his words, assuring you that everything will be fine and that he’ll see you soon, you miss yunho and mingi share big smiles with one another, the former excitedly mouthing “it’s a girl,” just as the taxi pulls up to bring you to the hospital. 

part 5

tag list: @mirror-juliet​ @toffee-hwa​ @valhoez​ @miatsubaki23​ @mydaintydaisy​ @treasurehwa​ @markleeyeosang​

[sasa-gay-yo]

Just Us (Chapter Sixteen: Scars)

← Chapter Fifteen

At first, it was a little pain here and there. I would be handing someone their coffee and it would hit me, but not enough where I’d recoil. It was manageable and no one really noticed it besides me. This was usual too, nothing out of the ordinary. At night, I would get pains in my chest from thinking too hard, but of course, I thought it was just that. I would think over and over again about the green cape, it would give me a headache too. It was just my body overreacting. That was my explanation. 

Then, I dropped the coffee on my own hand, a small burn festering where the liquid had hit. The customer seemed concerned as I grabbed my chest and let out a groan. This time it was sharp, but it didn’t leave for a minute or two. I feigned that I was okay to the man, and went into the back holding onto the wall and taking deep breaths till it didn’t hurt anymore. I’d begun wrapping my hands again too. Without the rose balm, they started peeling again, and at this point, I didn’t have the time or effort to go to the capital and try to seek out the stuff. 

Jonas commented on it too. The way that I started rewrapping my hands. I told him that I was fine, but then he witnessed the chest pains too. That made him worried. 

“It’s almost summer, usually your hands are better this time of the year.” He lifted up the bags of wheat flour onto the backroom shelves as I had to rewrap my left hand after getting the bandages wet. 

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I was used to not working as much, but now since the café is back to normal my hands have to get used to it. Business is going to flatten out though, with the upcoming shortage.” With my right hand, I passed him the tag to put on the stock boxes and went to pick up a smaller box with my half-wrapped left. As soon as I got the box off the floor, a sharp pain hit my chest and I dropped the box on the floor, making the stitches open and spill sugar all over the floor. I was too busy holding my chest and coughing to even care about the lost money at this point. 

“Eva!” Jonas was next to me in seconds, trying to lift me up to standing. When he realized that wasn’t going to work as I was doubled over in pain, he pulled up a chair to let me sit. He kneeled in front of me after, trying to look at my face to see what was happening. That was when he saw me gripping at my chest.

“I-I’m o-kay,” I said through gasps as I was trying to mentally get rid of the elephant that was sitting on my chest, “w-w..water?” He nodded quickly, running back into the café to get me a glass. I heard the faucet running and Jonas say something to a customer before bursting back in. The back of the door hit the wall with urgency, and it echoed against the brick walls of the supply room. At this point, I had one hand gripping my leg, the fabric of my skirt bunched up in a fist, and the other hitting my chest to get some other stimulus going. Either way, I couldn’t drink the water. We just sat there in silence, my heavy breathing filling the room. I could tell with each passing minute, he was getting more and more concerned. My concern was growing too since this was the longest the chest pains had ever stayed. I didn’t know how long I had been sitting there when the pain got to a bearable point, but I knew it wasn’t like the previous thirty-second pains I’d get throughout the day. 

“What the hell was that?” Jonas finally said as I reached down to the full water cup. This was an indication to him that I was better, at least for the time being. 

“It usually,” I took another gulp of water to try and settle the dull pain, “It usually isn’t this bad.” His eyes widened and I knew I was going to get a lecture next. 

“You mean you’ve had these multiple times?! What is it?!” I shook my head, finishing the rest of the glass. The cold helps the pain go away. Another stimulus. I found out a few days ago that if I put an icepack on my head or my chest, it starts to help the pain. 

“I don’t know. I just get pain in my chest sometimes. I was planning to ask Hange about it when she comes back.” He seemed unhappy with my answer. 

“You get chest pains? When? Are you stressed? Did you eat? Are you sure it’s your chest?” I stood up, brushing my hands off. There was no time to answer his questions as I knew there were probably four or five people outside the stockroom door waiting to order. 

“I’m really fine, Jonas. When Hange comes back, I’ll take it up with her.” Again, he was unhappy with that. He was going to try to drag me to a doctor pretty soon if I kept brushing it off, but there was nothing else to do. I didn’t know why it was happening and it never happened before. As he said, it was probably stress… but about what, I had no clue. I just walked back out the door, cup in hand, and took the next person’s order while I expected Jonas to finish stocking the back room. Like I predicted, the next day, Ben was at my door with Jonas early in the morning. They knocked loud enough to wake me up and I greeted them at the door my eyes puffy and in my pajamas. The café wasn’t open, and they knew where the key was to open the door. They were just making a scene to make a point. 

“We’re taking you to a doctor.” I rubbed my eyes, making sure to not scratch them with the wrap I’d put around them to sleep. 

“I don’t need to go to a doctor.” Both of them shook their heads at the same time and Jonas pushed himself in, saying something about how they wouldn’t leave till I came with them.

“We set up an appointment for you in thirty minutes anyway. Get dressed.” Ben followed in and sat on the chair across from Jonas. It was like a mirror image, both of them with their arms crossed and frowns faced towards me. Even on the way there, their faces didn’t change. I tried to tell them over and over again that I was fine, and the chest pains were nothing to worry about, but they wouldn’t listen. 

“That’s what Dad said before he ended up in the hospital. You need to get it checked up, I’m not letting it happen to you too.” I rolled my eyes at Ben's care. 

“I’m not related to him, so I think I’m fine. I’m not going to develop heart failure at twenty-seven.” Again, they didn’t listen as they walked behind me, making sure I couldn’t stop or escape from them. I looked for an exit multiple times too, but at one point Ben had his arm around me almost strangling me to make sure I didn’t leave. 

Truth be told, I hated going to the doctor. 

Sitting in the tiny room, waiting for him to call us to his office was even more of a pain than my chest issue. I hated betting inoculated, I hated having people probe at my stomach, and I hated every time they would prescribe me some sort of salve for my hands and it wouldn’t help at all. The doctors in Trost were useless in my opinion. If anything, they were going to poke and prod and find nothing wrong with me. Then I’ll have a bill to pay and nothing to show for it. My legs were bouncing up and down just from waiting for so long. It was a rest day, why were we waiting this long for this old doctor to tell me nothing? I just wanted to go back and sleep more as I went to bed when the sun was rising last night.

“Flynn?” All three of us stood up, and I turned to glare at the men who pulled me here against my own will. 

“I’m going back on my own.” Before they could protest, and after I lightly kicked Jonas in the shin so he would sit down, I walked back into the office. It was always the same room. The doctor had his own desk and you would sit to the right of it where all his tools were. He would listen to your heart, have you breathe here and there, poke you, and then miraculously have a cure from all of that. I didn’t trust doctors. 

“Miss Flynn, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you here and as a patient. How is the café?” I put up a fake smile for Dr. Los. He was a nice man, but he was a doctor. All doctors are bad in my book. Besides, he would always prescribe me something for my hands that would burn and never worked. I bet that’s what he thought I was here for. 

“Well, it wasn’t on my own will to come back here, Dr. Los.” He seemed confused but got a tool out to do a routine check-up while he asked me what was wrong. I could already see him setting up the balm to mix. 

“Why were you forced here today? Deep breath in.” I took a breath as he put something on my chest to listen to my heart. Convenient. 

“I’ve been having chest pains recently.” He sat up and looked me up and down, his face finally showing his confusion. He reached over and listened to my heart once more for a longer period of time. The look didn’t drop from his face. 

“Well, your heart sounds fine and you don’t really have any visible symptoms. All I can see is that you’re tired. Perhaps it’s just stress on the heart from overworking?” He turned to his desk to write something down and I just shrugged. 

“I personally don’t think it’s that big of a deal, but Ben and Jonas both think it’s something. I was also going to consult with one of my friends who studies… body systems and functions, but they pulled me here first.” He rubbed his chin with one hand, looking down at his notes. 

“When you get chest pains, what are you usually doing? Strenuous activity?” I shook my head. 

“One time I was cooking, the other I was in bed and just woke up. The most recent time, yesterday, I was just talking to Jonas about something and it started. They’ll come for only a few seconds, a minute at the most, and then go away. It also helps if I apply something cold to my face or chest.” He nodded writing that down in some unreadable script before turning back to me. 

“How painful are they usually?” 

“Most of the time it’s just an initial shock and then dull enough where I can function well. This past time with Jonas it took a while for the pain to subside.” His hand went back to his chin. 

“And you said you were doing anything taxing or strenuous to the body or brain?” I looked up at the ceiling and thought about that one. I guess when I was talking to Jonas, I was thinking about Levi, but that didn’t seem to be a reason. While at night time, when I got the chest pains, I was thinking about Levi, but I think about him all the time in bed and they don’t always come. Then, I’d just get them randomly at the cafe and splash myself with hot coffee or flour. There was no correlation. 

“No, nothing, Dr. Los. Nothing that I don’t normally do.” He went and wrote down something again, before bringing his notes with him to look at the shelves of medicine behind his desk. Great, something else that won’t work.

“Have you been overly stressed recently?” 

“Not more than usual.” He looked over his shoulder at me as he reached for a jar of some powder.

“And how much stress is usual for you?” I had to give that to him, that was a good question. I had to think about how to quantify my stress level to answer him.

“Every day I try to wake up with the sun to go put pastries in the oven. I clean and stock the shop. People come in around seven in the morning and I serve them until morning rush stops at ten. I get deliveries, prep more pastries for lunch and early dinner. During that time, I serve people who come in and out until it gets heavy from eleven-thirty to one-thirty. After that, I clean for a second time, restock from back to the front, talk to people who come in and out, and then get the pre-orders ready for early dinner. Around four, people come in for early dinner orders and pick-ups, people order pick-ups for tomorrow, and then I close at five. The rest of the night, I’m cleaning and prepping bread or pastries for tomorrow morning. I find time at night to sit and read or talk to Jonas, then I go to bed and do it over again. I don’t know if I find stress in monotony, but when thinking it over, I’m not stressed much Doctor Los.” He sighed and started mixing something together on his little sterilized table and left me in silence to think about my routine and all the things I left out of it. I don’t sleep until an hour before the sun is supposed to rise. I stay up all night with restful thoughts. No medicine could fix that, so why worry him?

“Hearing your daily routine, I think your chest pains come from fatigue. Your skin color also isn’t too good, which shows how tired you are and maybe a disconnect from your liver. I’ll make you some pills here that will help you sleep, but if the chest pains persist, I encourage you to go to a doctor in Mitras who specializes in central issues. There’s little I can do here with the supply shortage. I’m sure you understand.” Even with millions of people going, Trost and the rest of the walls were slowly nearing famine again. All the tell-tale signs were there. Wheat and flour bags were getting smaller and more expensive, food was going away quicker, and soon everyone would have to limit themselves to one meal a day to survive. Even the café sales were going down and I was making smaller and smaller batches daily. People were naïve to think the only reason we had famine before was the refugees' fault when we’ve lost most of our land to the titans. There’s barely any land to farm in Wall Sina, so they have to rely on the farms around Wall Rose, just waiting for when the titans learn how to break through that wall too. It was a delicate situation. 

“Thank you, Doctor Los.” I took the glass bottle he handed me and walked out after saying goodbye. Jonas and Ben stood up right away and they seemed a bit relieved I came out with a bottle of something. 

“Lack of sleep and stress. He said to take these every night.” I held up the bottle and didn’t bother stopping as they followed me out. 

“That’s all he said? That doesn’t make sense. You were doubled over in pain yesterday.” I shrugged, waving to a café regular as we passed. Maybe I’d pick up Elias and June on the way home. 

“I’m not the doctor, Jonas. You can go back and ask him if you want.” My voice had taken on an annoyed tone. They took me to the doctor, the one I told them I didn’t need to see, and now they’re unhappy with the results. It’s almost as if I told them this would happen. 

“Did he say anything else about further treatment?” I looked over my shoulder at Ben, who was still concerned. His concern was more valid, however, since this is what happened to Mr. Flynn. One day, he was fine, the next he was keeled over having a minor heart attack in the middle of the café. I could see a hint of fear in his eyes. 

“He said if it didn’t get any better I should find someone in Mitras.”

“We can’t afford the doctors in Mitras.” 

“Well, we won’t need to go to one anyways.”

“Ev-”

“I’m fine, Ben.” He huffed as we reached the café and I was thinking about utilizing one of these pills to go back to sleep on my day off when I saw two familiar figures standing at the doorway, horses already tied up. A little pain hit my chest again, but this time it couldn’t have been because of whatever illness I had. 

“Commander Erwin, what brings you to our café today?” Ben was the first to greet him as we walked up, bowing to both Erwin and Hange. Erwin bowed back and looked over at me. The last time we had seen each other was on that expedition a few months ago. The weather was now warmer, indicated by only having on their cut-off jackets. Why had Hange brought him on an off day? She always comes on Thursdays. 

“We wanted to come to talk to Eva without being an intrusion to the business. I hope that is fine with you, Eva.” I smiled up at him as Hange came over to put an arm around my shoulder.

“Of course, Commander. You two can go back home now.” My eyes narrowed at the two men, hoping they would get the memo to finally leave me. I knew that if Erwin and Hange hadn’t shown up, they would have stayed to lecture me about my health. Jonas would have also morphed it into an excuse to lecture me about getting over past lovers and trauma. Jonas glared back at me but knew he couldn’t take precedence over Erwin or Hange. I kicked him out so Hange could stay over the other time.

“We’re having fish for dinner tonight if you want to come, Ev.” I nodded to Ben and he hauled Jonas over to turn back home. Jonas’s face told me that he’d press me to talk about this later, so I’d better come over for dinner.

“What’s in the bottle?” Hange grabbed it from my hand and inspected the contents. She could heal a titan bite, but she knew very little when it came to apothecaries. I told her the whole story as I unlocked the café and put down chairs for us to sit.

“Chest pains?” She asked again to clarify and I handed them both a cup of morning coffee, nodding. The glance she gave Erwin didn’t go past me. 

“Yeah, but it’s bearable. Maybe it’s the weather too. The doctor said everything seemed fine, but I just looked tired.” Erwin took a sip of his cup. 

“I will say, with due respect, every time I see you, whether a glance or a meeting like this, you do look more and more tired. Your color has changed too.” I said down, picking only a glass of water to drink. There might be a chance I still want to go to sleep after this, so I shouldn't indulge in coffee. 

“I guess I am more tired than usual. If business keeps going down though, it won’t be a horrible workload anymore. At the beginning of the summer, everyone wanted fruit. We’ll see if the sleeping pills work.” Hange learned forward. 

“So, you’re still not sleeping well?” She was more up-to-date on my ailments, and I could see Erwin’s eyes change when she said that. This was a recurring problem. I just held my water cup in two hands, trying to use the coldness to keep the dull sensation that was growing at bay.

“Yes,” I mumbled. She sat back and crossed her arms, seeming like she was assessing the situation at hand. 

“Because of the pain or because of…” It felt slightly uncomfortable that Erwin was here to hear everything. Besides Hange, he was the person who probably had the most contact with Levi. Were they telling these things to him? Or, rather, did he not care? I didn’t want to be stifling him when he still didn’t want to have anything to do with me.

“The second reason, yes.” It was even quieter than my first yes, and Erwin’s eyes sparkled in recognition. He could have guessed the second reason, regardless if he knew or not from Hange. He cleared his throat. 

“I’m sorry to bring up Captain Levi not knowing your remaining opinions on him, however at the least, he seems remorseful.” My heartbeat went a bit faster when he said that, giving me some sick form of hope. I gave up though. If he really was remorseful and regretted his actions, he would be back here sitting at his table. Even after he tried to give me his cape, he never showed up. 

“Well, if he’s so remorseful, Commander, then he can come himself. He’s had plenty of time.” They both shifted in their seats uncomfortably again. This was the second thing that made me feel uneasy and the pain in my chest act up again. I was trying my best to conceal it.

“Captain Levi has been dealing with certain things and is unable to come.” Erwin sounded terse and professional, which told me he was hiding something. It was insincere. 

“Has he been dealing with it for a year-and-a-half?”

“Have you been dealing with this for a year-and-a-half?” Hange gestured to my chest and I grabbed it instinctively. They didn’t answer my question. 

“No, it only started after the day we encountered you at the Trost gates. Back then, it was nothing, but now it’s…” Erwin sighed. 

“We should tell her now.” My panic shot up after that, seeing their somber faces. Hange was looking at Erwin to make sure she heard him correctly. It was an order, not a suggestion. My hand gripped my chest harder as she turned to look at me, pushing her glasses up. 

“Someone in the capital had given conflicting information about Levi. Conflicting criminal information. He’s been having to go back and forth, proving his innocence with each visit. Something happened recently, and he started getting migraine attacks as well. He sat out of our last expedition, but the capital sent MPs to come and take him back while we were gone. Apparently, there have been shocking developments on his case, enough to detain him. He’s yet to come back, but there have been reports given to us about his condition. While they verified that he isn’t hurt, he’s been stricken with migraines. That's what the report said. We haven’t been allowed to go and see him until a later date.” My blouse was balled up in my fist and I could feel another one coming. It was slowly creeping into my chest, the dull pain growing larger and larger with each hard beat of my heart. 

“What criminal information?” It was urgent, and she looked at Erwin again before telling me. He’d given her a nod of approval. I quickly drank water, holding the cup to my chest to try and alleviate the pain. This was more urgent. 

“Murder.” The cup dropped onto the floor, breaking into three pieces. I had to use both hands to grab at my chest. Hange was up first, coming to feel my temperature before putting her hand on my chest. 

“Irregularly fast, heart skipping beats, unable to breathe. Just like Levi, Erwin.” I tiled my head back and let out a groan of pain, not being able to breathe anymore. This was the worst it had been. It was harsh. Biting. My heart felt like someone had stuck their hand in my chest and was squeezing it as hard as they can. My body was going cold though. I couldn’t feel my legs or my hands, and grabbing at my chest did nothing. All I could do was look at the ceiling or Hange, trying to get confirmation of my condition. My hearing went next, only being able to see Hange yell something to Erwin as he dashed off behind me. What was happening to me? Another sharp pain came, and my body threw itself forward. I would have hit my head on the edge of the table if Hange didn’t stop my body’s descent. This time, she took me to the ground with her, trying to get an easier angle. She had her head on my chest, listening to my heartbeat and tapping it out with her finger. It scared me that I couldn’t feel the sensation of her tapping on my thigh. I could just see it happening. I could only see. I couldn't feel or hear. When Erwin put a rag on my head, probably wet with cold water, I still couldn’t feel it. 

I didn’t know why my body was reacting this way to hearing news about him. I hadn’t seen him in months, we haven’t exchanged words in length, and yet I was rolling on the floor in pain because of what Hange said. It had to have been my body reacting, not me. It couldn’t be me. My body must have just found a trigger point in Hange’s words, and released this pain for me to handle. It couldn’t be because of him. He didn’t care about me, so I didn’t care about him. Not this much. 

A hand went to my face, pulling it so I locked eyes with Hange. She must have realized that I couldn’t hear, so she mouthed her words slowly. 

‘You’re. Coming. With. Us.’ 

I didn’t have the ability to protest, and even if I could have, I wouldn’t have. Levi was gone, yes. He wouldn’t be at the HQ. I would be fine. I wouldn’t have to lock eyes with him again. I wouldn’t have to pretend like it didn’t hurt to think about him. To look at him and remember. He wasn’t there. I wouldn’t have to pretend. Not this much. Not like I normally do. Another wash of pain came over me, this time making me go into a fetal position, knocking the towel off my head onto the ground. At this point, I was having an out-of-body experience. Something was making me feel like I couldn’t control my body, and I was only to wither on the ground and watch from above. The only reason I knew I was still grounded was the fact that every thirty seconds, my heart would spasm again, causing me to let out a shout in pain. I heard my shouts loud and clear. Everything else was drowned out by them. Even when Erwin lifted me up in the air or put me in front of him on his horse, I was already so far gone in some primordial state that I didn’t notice. He had my face towards his chest, sitting with both of my legs over the side of the horse. This way he could probably control my shouts of pain when I couldn’t. 

At some point, my heart felt like the hand instantly crushed it. It was right outside of the gates of Trost when I lost consciousness. The hand around my heart squeezed as hard as it could, and it felt like it popped the organ as easily as a balloon. This was the most painful, and I hated that my body kept me awake to feel it. It felt like my heart was forcefully exiting through my throat encompassed in a shout I couldn’t hear. I lifted my face to the sky, feeling only the sky collapse with me. Rain hitting my face as I fell backward. My eyes forcefully closed, all the strength in my body had left along with the yell, and I felt like I was floating. The pain left immediately, or rather, I was finally numb enough where I wouldn’t have to deal with the spasms of my insides. With one more huff of air, I was out. Blackness. No sound. No sensations. Only darkness welcomed me into a light, pain-free embrace. 

His body was above, molding to mine. His lips were doing the same. Molding to my own, slipping a tongue in and out. I could feel my lungs call out for air, but I didn’t want to let him get away from me so soon.

He would be leaving tomorrow. 

Finally, he lost air, and broke apart from my lips, leaving only a centimeter of space, filling it with our breaths. In the time he had to breathe, he grabbed my leg, pulling it to wrap around his hip. His hand stayed there on the side of my thigh, not daring to slide closer to the rest of my body, no matter how much I wanted him to. I wanted him to do it. Do it all. After tonight, our domestic bliss would come crashing down, and I wanted this last night to solidify what we’d been doing these past few weeks. 

His lips were on mine again, his other hand weaving its way through my hair. My hands were wrapped around his neck, playing with the fresh undercut I’d given him in the bathroom moments prior. He moaned into the kiss when I pulled on the longer locks, and I tried my best to press my body back up into his. To feel every curve and ridge of his abdomen. It was my way of trying to let him know it was okay. I was willing. His lips detached from mine, leaving me breathless, as he continued his assault on my jaw, and then my neck, and then my collarbone. Going lower and lower. I moaned loudly when his mouth glanced over the one spot on my neck, his hot breath and tongue tickling my skin. He pulled my hair back, opening my neck up for an easier assault, and his hand reached down, playing with the buttons on my shirt. Well, on his shirt. He used his teeth to lightly scrape my collarbone, making me light on fire inside. 

“Levi,” I moaned loudly, trying to grab at his shirt, two buttons already done, to take it off completely, “Please! Let me feel you,”  I begged. All in one moment, his body froze on top of me and almost laid down on top of me, not hard, but enough so that I couldn’t reach to pull at his shirt again. With his body completely on mine, I could also feel the arousal tempting him pressed into my lower thigh. Yet, he was still, only his head in my neck. 

“I… Not like this.” He sat up on his knee between my legs, arousal still evident as he looked down at me, one hand tightly grabbing onto the back of the couch to gain self-restraint as he looked down at me. Even like this, he looked godly. Messy hair, shirt pulled out of his pants showing the top of his chest, face red, and eyes blown wide; I reached for his pants, but he grabbed my hand, tangling his fingers into mine again. I sat up too, back resting on the arm of the couch. 

“Levi, it’s fine. It’s your last night here. I can make you feel go-” He shook his head, cutting me off. 

“I don’t want my first time with you to only be because it could be my last.”

-

“Please be safe. Please.” I had his face in between both of my hands, trying not to shed a tear. The early morning wind was whipping around us as we stood outside my door. The sun was barely over the horizon, permitting Levi to be able to show such physical affection outside the four walls he’d found so much comfort in over the past few weeks. I could see it in his face, too. He wasn’t hiding anything. He didn’t want to leave. 

“I promise I’ll come back alive. There’s so much still left to do, Eva.” There were no jokes, no smiles, no laughs. Nothing was humorous about this situation. This was the first time I’d ever sent him off in person. The first time that could possibly be the last time. 

“You have to come back.” He put one hand over mine, nodding. 

“You have to write.” 

“I will.” He removed my hands from his face, holding them by my chest. He was relishing in a final touch, and I could he was contemplating something. He was conflicted about something, evident by the crease in his forehead. He wanted to say something. 

“Eva?” My eyes were always boring into his. Trying to see what he really wanted to say to me. We only had a few fleeting moments left. 

“Levi?” He took two more seconds before shaking his head, pulling me into a hug. I took in his scent one more time, wrapping my arms around his middle. 

“Please be safe. For me. I know it’s a normal expedition, but anything could happen. Especially since it’s a long one.” When I thought he would pull back, he didn’t. He held me there, swapping body heat. The only thing I could hear were our hearts, beating in sync as the seconds we had left passed. Time was passing too fast. Once he pulled back, I knew by his face that he was leaving. 

“I’ll see you after, Eva. Like always.” I nodded and he smiled. It was fake. Something to make me feel better about this situation. I had no idea how the wives and families of the Scouts were able to do this every time; letting your lover go off to imminent death every month like clockwork.

“Like always,” I repeated, and he leaned in, giving my forehead one soft kiss before turning down the stairs. The warmth still lingered, and I watched as he put his hood up, no turning back, and left down the street. When I raced to my window to be able to see him, he had turned once more, looking up at me through the glass. He nodded, like he always did, acknowledgment I was there, and then mouthed something to me that I was unable to read. Before I could give him a confused look, he turned back around, walking down the street and turning, making me lose sight of him. 

I awoke when my whole body jumped, landing down on hardwood. A horse neighed, and when I opened my eyes, all I saw was the blue sky. 

“Oh, you’re up!” I looked to my left jumping in fear, finally able to hear Hange again. The pain was gone. Relief. I lifted my hand up to rub my eyes and noticed the excess tears I had to wipe along with it. I was laying in the bed of a cart, Erwin and one other blonde man driving while Hange sat back with me. 

“H-Hange?! Where…?” The landscape was familiar as I looked around. In my haze, I was trying to remember where we were. I’d been here before. 

“Okay, now, before you get mad or freak out, I need you to promise me you won’t get mad or freak out. Remember what Erwin asked you before?” I narrowed my eyes at her, not knowing where this was going. She was most likely referring to our first meeting, Erwin and I, but that was almost two years ago. Still, I was curious and I sat up to promise. 

“I promise?” Again, her face went back to serious, pushing her glasses up and looking down at me. This made the dull ache of chest pain reappear and I instinctively grabbed at my chest, only to see I was dressed differently. Someone had changed me into more formal wear, a dress combined with a shawl hanging off my shoulders. 

“Today is Levi’s trial. In front of the Premiere. They got an anonymous tip that Levi had murdered someone important while in the Underground. Originally, we thought this would just be a ploy for defamation of character, but now it seems someone in the government wants to take it further.” I sat up completely, sitting on a bench across from Hange and getting a clear view of both men upfront. My heart was beating fast now, not in pain, but with anxiety. They wanted to kill him. He’d predicted this. 

“What do you want me to do?” It must have surprised all of them, my willingness to do something for Levi. While I was still angry and annoyed and confused, I wasn’t going to let him die on the government's chopping block. Even the new man, blonde hair and stubble, looked over at me, impressed in a way. There was also an ulterior motive. If I saved Levi, I might be able to talk to him. To yell at him. To finally do something. 

Hange reached into a bag next to her and pulled out a card that I hadn’t seen in years. 

“You need to testify in Levi’s favor. You’re the only one who can be confirmed as a member of the Underground at some point in your life. If they believe you as a primary source, they cannot press more charges on Levi. Frankly, we think the only reason this has come forward is that they don’t think we have someone like you on our side.” I looked at the card, rolling it over and over in my hand. A picture of my old self was looking up at me, young and bruised. The day I was issued this ID was the day after Mr. Flynn found me. A marker of my original status, and one that I’d forgotten after getting a regular, forged Trost Citizen ID. 

                                         Underground Citizen ID 

                                         Maria [No Last Name]

                                          St. Sina Orphanage 

“You want me to lie to the government about my time in the Underground?” Erwin spoke up next to me, clearing his throat before reminding me of my promise. 

“When we asked if you were willing to protect Levi or any of the Scouts, this is what we meant. Protect them against the government. If they can hinge Levi’s life on a false pretense, we can stretch the truth in our favor as well. You said before you would be willing.” It sounded like an order coming from his mouth. There would be no way to get out of here, even if I wanted to. They had already accepted the fact that I would be used to secure Levi’s freedom. 

“I agreed when we were in a relationship, Commander. Now, we’ve left each other on bad terms. Why are you so sure I’ll accept?” I could see him smile out of the corner of my eye. So did Hange. 

“Squad Leader Hange started regularly visiting your café because Captain Levi ordered her to.” My eyes widened, looking at Hange who just nodded. Her arms were crossed and she leaned back in a smug position like she’d successfully hidden this from me for a long time and she was proud. 

“And because you still slip packets of peppermint tea into my bag before I leave for the HQ. And because Levi keeps asking about your health. And because you still cr-” I held up my hand for her to stop, knowing what she was about to say next. Most of what she said didn’t surprise me, because secretly inside I was always trying to convince myself of his reasonings. I tried to convince myself that he still cared and still loved me. I had to hide my relief when Hange said those things, but still, I wanted Levi to say it to my face. I needed him to say it to me now. 

“I’ll save him.” The blonde man smiled slightly, then turned back to direct the horses on the curve of the gravel road. We were only a few minutes out of Wall Sina. Erwin was the first to speak after Hange’s shriek of delight. 

“You’ll be questioned in front of most of the MPs and Commanders of other branches. The Premiere is a very… He’s a very interesting man. He has his vices, and beautiful women are one of them. He’ll be more inclined to listen to you because of that. Yet, there are guidelines for what you are to say.” I turned to look at Erwin, who was now turned completely to talk to me, “You cannot mention you and Levi’s current position. You only know him from the Underground and left a few years before he was taken. The murder they are trying to pin on Captain Levi was when you were the age of seventeen. You have to convince them you were in the Underground then.” I thought about how I would do that. My ID card was issued a few days before I left, and Mr. Flynn was the one who snuck me out to the surface. There would be no official records of my leave. That could turn out to be a good or bad thing. 

“Second, you have to answer all the questions short and sweet. You cannot upset the Premiere or that will give him more of a resolve to hang Levi. While Zachary is on our side, he still is being pressured from the inside to handle Levi. No one likes people from the Underground, and they might treat you with disgust. You cannot let that get to you, under any circumstances.” 

“Does the government know of my existence? Right now. Do they know I’m coming?” He shook his head. 

“No, we think not. We only thought of this option yesterday, that’s why we came for you. Levi himself has no idea you’re coming to defend him, we just told him not to worry.” I put the blanket over my bare legs, realizing now why I’d been put into such a dress. Persuasion. 

“They’re going to ask me if I was a prostitute, aren’t they?” It was the common question women of the Underground were asked. It was only countered by the fact I was twelve when I left, but now I’d have to lie. How was a girl past the age of fourteen supposed to survive alone in the Underground? There was only one conclusion people drew. I could see Erwin sigh and his body tighten up.

“They’re going to ask you many things. That being one of them. However, you need to vouge for Levi’s character. You need to convince them that he wasn’t a murder and that you were with him when you were seventeen. If they believe your alibi of him being with you the whole time, their fake claims have no base.” My heart started beating fast as the walls came into view. 

“What happens if it goes wrong?” Erwin turned back around, ready to greet the guards with his travel permit. 

“Don’t let it.” I looked to Hange who gave me another reassuring smile before looking out in front of the cart. It was resting all on me. That’s what the smile said. 

When we entered, everyone was silent. It was only another twenty-minute ride into the capital past various inner towns. During this time, I was thinking about what I would say. Not only would I have hundreds of eyes on me, but I would also be seeing Levi there in a vulnerable state. I couldn’t imagine what his reaction to my presence would be, but it was anything but positive. I’d have to keep those emotions at bay while I was anxiously lying his way to freedom. I stepped up into a formal carriage as we got off the cart, ready to enter Mitras. As soon as the driver closed the door behind us, I was aware of how small these were. I was aware of how close we were to the central courthouse in Mitras and how close I was to standing in front of everyone. I gripped my stomach this time, feeling it twist and turn at the thought. One wrong move and everyone would be at fault. If they find out I’m lying under oath, I would die too. Erwin would be punished. Levi would die. I was the one who was holding them on my shoulders. When Erwin had requested this service of me, I never knew this was the extent of what he meant. Betray the government in person for us. Risk everyone’s life for us. Is this how they felt on a daily basis? Is this the trust they had in each other? In me?

“This is Miche Zacharius, by the way. He’s the second to Levi in skill and is one of the only people to hurt Levi. One time he shoved his face into the ground.” I looked up at him and nodded. He nodded back and sniffed once. 

“You smell nervous.” His voice was smooth, but I was more surprised at what he had just said to me. Hange only laughed, a reassuring hand around my shoulder. 

“He has a really good nose!” Her laughing didn’t reassure me. 

“I-I’m… I’ll be fine soon. Just let me process.” I whispered, almost feeling embarrassed that he’d called me out like that. All three of these people had faced and killed titans, watched their comrades die, and now here I was afraid. 

“You can’t show them that you’re nervous in the courtroom or they’ll use that against you.” I was aware now that all three pairs of eyes were on me. It felt like they were looking at me like some sort of child. I was acting like one yes, but they could have at least cut me some slack. I wasn’t used to doing any of this. 

“You’ll get used to this, Eva. Once you acquire a general disdain for the government, it’s easy to lie.” Erwin lifted up the curtain to see where we were on the way to the courthouse. 

“You’re saying I’ll have to do this again?” Both of my arms went around my stomach at the thought. If I was already about to puke the first time, why was he so confident there was going to be another time. And another. This just made all three of them laugh, again like I was a child, and I just stared down at Miche’s boots who sat across from me. 

“You’ll be fine. Just… Just think of another emotion to fuel you. You’re mad at Levi, right? Go in there mad at him, not nervous. Displace your emotions.” I opened one eye and looked at Hange out of the corner of it. She was really trying to help me, but I was psyching myself out too much for it to work. The carriage slowed, and soon the door opened. Standing outside to greet us seemed to be ten or twenty MPs and another bald man. He was older but smiled warmly as Erwin stepped out.

“Don’t act nervous,” Miche muttered before stepping out behind Erwin on the tiny stairs that were placed for us. 

“Let out a silent scream before we go. That always helps to pump me up!” Again, I looked at her out of the corner of my eye but paused for a few seconds before doing what she said. It didn’t help the feeling of need to throw up, but it did relieve some sort of knot in my stomach. Before I could say anything, Hange stepped out of the cart and I knew I was next. People were staring inside at my figure, trying to understand who else they could have brought. 

“Okay. Okay. Displace your anger. You’re angry. You hate the MPs. Think of Duran. He’s a dick. He’s an MP. Fuck them. Yeah, fuck the government. Let’s go save, Levi. Yeah. Yeah.” I stood up, and as soon as I took a step out of the carriage, all eyes were going to look at me, that positive attitude I had sunk inside of me. Why were there so many?! 

“And who is this?” The old man looked at me as I walked up next to Hange. 

“E-Evlynn Flynn… sir.” I bowed once and he just smiled again. It reminded me of Mr. Flynn, which calmed my nerves a tiny bit. He was on our side. I could tell that. 

“This is Commander Dot Pyxis of the Garrison Regiment.” Pyxis reached out to shake my hand and I took it tentatively. 

“Nervous,” I heard Miche behind me whisper, which made me straighten up. This was showtime now. I couldn’t be scared like I was in the carriage. No, I was scared, but I couldn’t show it. It was for Levi. Levi would be yelling at me now. Saying how weak I looked. I needed to straighten up and act like I knew why the fuck I was here. I was confident. I was going to win. 

“Evlynn Flynn... You broke one of my Trost Captain’s noses.” That made me freeze up, and I also let out a noise of fear. Fuck. How did he know that? Yet, he only laughed at my reaction. 

“It’s alright, it’s alright. He needed it, I believe. Come this way, the trial is about to begin.” He transferred his hand onto my shoulder, pushing me to walk next to him leaving Hange, Miche, and Erwin behind us. 

“Evlynn Flynn. An interesting name for an interesting person. Why did Commander Erwin bring you here today? He’d only alerted me about your visit, but not the reason for.” I couldn’t look back at Erwin to search for an answer now. Everyone was watching. MPs were lined up, knowing what was happening inside the military building, and looking directly at me. I was the key witness today and the one who was most out of place. Everyone was wearing a military uniform with their respected emblems, and I was in a sundress, a cream shawl wrapped around my arms. Even if I wasn’t here to testify, I would still be getting stares. 

“I’m here to defend Captain Levi, Commander.” His smile didn’t waiver and he just nodded, opening the door for me so I would walk into the building. Upon entry, there were even more people lined up against the walls, waiting for entrance into two wooden doors. Those had to be the courtroom.

“Well, I wish you good luck today, Evlynn Flynn.” Pyxis walked off, and I stood there, waiting for instructions from Erwin. I didn’t have the heart or courage to move from the position I was in. Everyone was looking. I was a surprise. I was unknown. Who was this girl that Commander Erwin was talking to? I was afraid, but I had to swallow it down so Miche didn’t remind me. 

“Pyxis is on our side as far as we know. You assaulted a Garrison official?” I knew Erwin was trying to lighten up the mood, finally seeing that he needed to as well. I was still staring at the doors, not knowing what was behind them. Duran had described the military court as brutal and never-ending. His words were now echoing over and over in my head. What a horrible voice to have in my head minutes before I was going to lie to his precious government. 

“I… yes. A punch. Just one. He was being very annoying.” Erwin and Miche both huffed once at this because the seriousness of the situation didn’t allow any laughs. Hange however, had positioned her arm around my shoulders again. It was for comfort. 

“Well, don’t try to assault any more today,” she whispered, tracing my line of view with her own, “Levi is in there right now. He’s chained to a pole in the center. When it’s your turn to talk, you won’t need to move unless they ask you to come to the floor. If they do, you go around to a small gate and they’ll let you on the platform, only in front of Levi. Don’t let him distract you. When you walk into the courtroom, don’t look at him, only when we’re standing. He knows better than to prolong it, but he might have lost a little self-control while contained. Can you do all of this?” The doors opened, one by one, and soldiers started flooding in. We would enter last as Levi’s defendants, right to the front row. I took another deep breath, letting it out like in the carriage. Still, I wanted to throw up. 

“Hange, I feel like I’m going to pass out.” She took her arm off of me, starting to walk in when Erwin prompted us. One more smile came to me before she turned back to her serious face. Erwin was the last one to the door and stopped to turn to me and nod. He would wait for me so I could walk in next to him, trying to block my body from everyone’s view. If I could hide behind him, even a little bit, I would be okay. I told him this in the carriage. So, I joined him a the door, walking in and seeing the exact scene Hange had described. Their eyes were on me again, but this time I felt the intensity of an extra pair. I couldn’t look like Hange said, but I felt them on me. All the way over to his right side, I felt them. 

“Erwin, is there an excuse for me to leave yet?” I could see him out of the corner of my eye as we turned to join Hange and Miche at the front of the small fence, blocking us from the platform. Even when Erwin’s body was in my peripheral, I could feel the stare. I could see his hands, shackled behind the post. 

“If you’re fast, you’ll get out in thirty minutes tops. I’ll buy you dinner and supplies you need for your café if you pull this off. Is that enough motivation?” My mouth dried up, turning to press my middle against the top of the wooden fence. He stared right at me, not hiding any emotion. He was angry. It was directed at me. His eyes were wide and furious that I’d walked in here today, knowing exactly what Erwin’s plan was. I tried to keep my eyes neutral, but they softened a bit, pleading with him. Let me do this. 

“I’ll give him a month off. Now, look ahead. You two are obviously staring at each other,” Erwin whispered, again almost like a command, and I gave Levi one more glance before turning to the empty chair of the Premier. Levi didn’t. He was still looking right at me, and I grabbed my heart as a small pain popped up. No, I can’t do this here. Not here. The chest pains can’t come now. I pulled my shawl around me, trying to get anything to block the intensity of his stare. My skin was heating up, regardless of how far away we were. He needed to stop. Stop looking at me. Please. 

The doors behind the stand opened, and three people walked out. One of them was Premier Zachary, and I could instantly tell who. He ascended the tall stand and went to sit in the middle chair, the biggest one, shrugging off the military jacket he had on. The only thing that indicated he was the Premier was the red sash across his chest. When we sat, he rolled up his sleeves and looked at the papers presented in front of him. Everyone went silent, and he looked down at Levi who had shifted his gaze. Thank you. Thank any one. I couldn’t deal with the intensity of his eyes like this. Not after so long. 

“Captain Levi. You are here because you’ve been charged with first-degree murder of a Garrison Captain who patrolled the Underground during the year of eight-hundred and twenty-seven. Because of your status as a Captain of the Scout Regiment, we have agreed to try you with military precedents. The sole decision of your death in my hands,” He pushed his glasses up, almost groaning at the last statement. My heart, again, started beating out of my chest, and no doubt those next to me could hear it. In my head over and over, I was giving mantras of encouragement. The man was so high above me, I was afraid. Afraid of his stare. Afraid of the moment he called out my name, “The Scout Regiment has also been given the privilege to transfer interrogation to a witness as to testify that Captain Levi is innocent of this murder charge. Those opposed to this have not spoken up, and therefore will now not be allowed to be recognized. I wish, also, to finish this case by lunch, so please don’t make this difficult. Commander Smith, you may present your witness.” That’s when all eyes went to me again, and this time, I grabbed at my bottom of my shawl to try and conceal how nervous I was. I just stared directly up at Zachary trying to concentrate on him. The only three people in the room were me, him, and Levi. No one else was there. Only us. I couldn’t be nervous. My voice couldn’t waiver. I needed to be strong. For him. For Levi. I need to do this for him. For the Scouts. I can’t kill titans, or save the world, but I could do this. 

“Our witness is Evlynn Flynn, who grew up with Captain Levi in the Underground. She was there with Captain Levi at the designated time of the murder and can bring Captain’s name and reputation to light.” Zachary linked his fingers together, finally locking eyes with me. I could see the small tint of enjoyment when he was finally given professional reasons to stare at me like the others in the military.

“Miss Flynn, thank you for joining us. I’m sure the operations of the military are unknown to you, so I will guide you through this questioning with ease if you comply. Do you have any proof that you were once a citizen of the Underground?” Hange held the ID up behind me, and Zachary motioned for someone to come and give it to him from far away. I still didn’t waver. My gaze was directed at him. Displace your feelings. Be angry. Like Levi. Be angry. Seem sharp. Seem unwavering. 

“Miss Flynn, I’m sure that this is not your real name, yes?” That’s when Levi’s eyes snapped over to me again, and I took a gulp. This was what he wanted to know. The information that previously was eating away at him because I wouldn’t tell him my real name out of fun. Now he was going to learn what it was so close to death. This wasn’t how he wanted to learn it, I know it wasn’t. This wasn’t how I wanted him to learn it either. Either way, I wanted to be the one to say it aloud. I wanted to be the one who learned it from still. 

“Maria, yes. Only Maria. I now go by Evlynn, so please refer to me with that name, Premier Zachary.” It was a light smile at my tone, and I even surprised myself. I didn’t stutter or waver as I had with Pyxis. I sounded confident only because I took initiative. I told Levi, not Zachary. I would have to feign the same confidence throughout this whole trial, even if my fist was throbbing with how tight I was holding my shawl. 

“Miss Flynn, I’ll call you that, yes? Miss Flynn, how do you know Captain Levi?” I cleared my head, running through the story we’d built in the carriage. I held up my hands, still wrapped in bandages. 

“When I was young, I was put in an orphanage, only to care for myself. I would wonder at night and suffer at the hand of those in the Underground. One night, when I was eight, Captain Levi saved me from being burned by one of those such people. My hands are the only token I have in remembrance of that night. From then on, Captain Levi and I became friends. Supporting each other.” I took my hands down, continuing to squeeze my shawl with one hand. This was the only place on my body that I would outwardly display my fear.

“Are there any reasons to believe that you and Captain Levi have gone beyond the bounds of mutual friendship, and therefore put an ulterior motive with your testimony?” I didn’t look at Levi when I said this, knowing some way it would hurt. It would hurt both of us, but it was payback. Payback for when he did it to me. 

“I have never had feelings for or sexual relations with Captain Levi. By the time I was of the age, I was taken from the Underground and cared for by a friend of my father's. This is where I received my new name, Premier.” 

“And at what time did you leave the Underground, Miss Flynn?” 

“The year eight-hundred and twenty-nine. Right before I turned nineteen.” That was the preliminary to the next question he asked. I didn’t even know why he would have needed to know such information from anyone, but to him and to others it seemed important. Apparently, what a person does with their body must display their ultimate moral character. 

“And what jobs did you take to survive in the Underground?” I felt the growing interest of the crowd of men surrounding me. So did Levi. That’s why his glare increased, looking around him. He finally spoke up. 

“I see no reason for that question to be asked, Premier Zachary.” For a second, Zachary’s glance switched to him before returning back to me. 

“By Captain Levi’s reaction, I may assume that the job you had taken in the Underground was… less than-” I cut him off, which in hindsight was a bad idea, but I didn’t care. I had my own image to protect now. 

“No, Premier, I worked alongside Captain Levi and our friends at the time. I was not a prostitute.” Something in my words made him smile again, just subtly, before looking down at the papers in front of him, my ID tossed to the side. I was growing bolder to him. I was growing more acceptable to be in the position I was in.

“Were you with Captain Levi on the day of the murder?” Erwin stated that this was a trick question before. I couldn’t say yes or no, as it would indict Levi. I had to work around it. 

“I was with Captain Levi for the entire year of eight-hundred and twenty-seven.” 

“And were you present when Captain Levi murdered the Garrison Captain in question?” This would also hurt me. If I didn’t work around this question, I would be thrown in jail as an accomplice. 

“As I stated, I was with Captain Levi for the entire year, and he never murdered anyone. The claims are false.” He withdrew one hand, flipping the pages of the report. He knew there was no evidence to support the other side, but there had to be some internal pressure to get rid of Levi. 

“Come up here, Miss Flynn. I want to look at your face closely as to access your claim.” Just like Hange told me, the crowd parted so I could go to the small gate, letting me onto the platform. Levi and I looked at each other once, the anger still in his eyes, and I turned around to look up at Premier Zachary. Still, I could feel his gaze on my back. I could feel everyone's’ gaze. I was finally in the middle on display for everyone to see. Zachary leaned down to look at me closely, that perverted undertone still there. I knew there was another reason he wanted me to come forward, and I pulled the shawl tighter around my shoulders to block his view. 

“You stated that Captain Levi never murdered anyone while in the Underground. Do you know what will happen to you if that claim turns out to be proven false?” I hardened my gaze up at him and found it much easier now to direct anger. He had me up there to intimidate me, but also to look me up and down for his enjoyment. There was no other reason. He could see my face clearly from behind the bars, but my body was blocked by Erwin just enough. It was a tactic so no one could see me shaking with anxiety. Now, that was gone and replaced with disgust at his lingering eyes. 

“I have no worry, Premier. Captain Levi did not murder the Captain you are referring to.” The sun came through the window, making his glasses reflect it. The glimmer in his eyes was also it's most prominent. 

“How can we be so sure to validate that you and Captain Levi were together in the Underground? It’s filled with all kinds of people. How did the coincidental meeting occur in such a large space? Give me definite evidence, Miss Flynn.” I paused. This wasn’t a question I was prepped for. How was I supposed to get him to believe this Levi and I were together in the Underground when we absolutely weren’t? My silence seemed to confirm for the opposition that the Scouts were lying. I had to think of something quick, or I would lose this. My heart started racing, my mind muddling with ideas and sounds.

“She’s being used by the Scouts!” 

“Are you sure that ID card is even real?!” 

“How can someone like her be from the Underground?” I closed my eyes, trying to drown out their words. Think. Think. Think. 

“Order!” Zachary called out, making me jump. This was the first time I’d shown any nervousness, and it was at the worst time possible. I need to have confidence. I needed to think of something.

“Hange!” I called out and turned to face her, “As the Scouts medical officer, you’ve seen Captain Levi’s bare skin multiple times. If we showed you, would you be able to identify the cause of each scar or damage to the skin?” She stepped a bit forward, not knowing what I was thinking. 

“I could be able to identify every one that he received while under my care in the Scouts. However, there are numerous others that he’s received in the Underground that I would have no idea their origin.” I turned around to Premier Zachary, ready to release my full plan. 

“I can confirm any scars that Captain Levi received in the Underground. Give me paper and a pencil, I can write it down, and then Captain Levi can confirm my writing with his words. This way you can see that I was in fact with Captain Levi in the Underground.” 

“How does this confirm anything?” He leaned forward again, interested in my plan.

“I was the one in the Underground who cared for his wounds. I should know every single scar on him. This confirms my presence as well as how long I stayed with him.” A Garrison member stepped forward. 

“Premier Zachary, how do we know that these two haven’t started a relationship outside of their time in the Underground? I’ve had reports from multiple Trost Garrison members, including the Captain, that they’ve seen Captain Levi and Miss Flynn regularly interacting in her café.” My eyes narrowed at the member who had spoken up, most likely prompted by the person who wanted to see Levi killed. 

“Captain Levi started coming to my café only three-and-a-half years ago and would come once every six months to visit if he was permitted to. I wouldn’t call this regular. What I would call regular was the fact that those same Garrison soldiers would abandon their posts daily to play cards inside of my café from morning to late afternoon, all while trying to coerce me into giving them free drinks for fulfilling their duty to the people. Perhaps you should tell those soldiers to concentrate on their jobs and not me, soldier.” When I turned back to Zachary, his smile had grown, and he looked quite happy at the situation at hand. No other member stepped forward to speak, and I think my surge of anger amused him enough to let this whole thing proceed. 

“Miss Flynn, I’m sorry for the incompetence of the Garrison soldiers in Trost. We will proceed with your plan. Squad Leader Hange, please proceed in marking the scars of Captain Levi’s torso that you know of.” He motioned to a guard to open the door for Hange as another unbuttoned Levi’s shirt and pulled it down to the shackles. There he was shirtless in front of everyone, now looking right at me. I knew we were both thinking of the same thing as Hange went around inspecting him. Thinking about the same moment we shared almost a year-and-a-half ago. 

He had been reaching up on the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet when I observed a long and thin scar across the base of his stomach. I pointed it out to him, asking him what had occurred for him to get such a long scar. Then, even when he protested, I lifted his shirt up a little more to see almost every inch of his skin covered in white lines or even bigger marks. I wondered how I didn’t notice before, and because he was so annoyed at my hands, claiming I was tickling him, he took off his shirt and sat me down on top of the kitchen counter. 

“I’m only going to go through them once, so pay attention.”

“Premier Zachary, I’ve finished assessing Captain Levi’s torso.” When Hange cleared the way, he was still looking up at me expectantly. Each scar that Hange had recognized, she’d put down a piece of medical tape, leaving me with over a dozen more to remember. Good thing I was paying attention. Someone handed me a pad of paper and a pencil, and I walked near Levi, crouching down to meet his eyes, right in front of his face. That’s when the talking started. Everyone seemed that it would be fine to deliberate my success as I wrote everything down with diligence. 

“Why the hell are you here?” Levi hissed at me, low enough for me to hear as I studied his shirtless torso. If this were any other situation, I would have blushed like I always did. Looking at Levi’s figure had always been a treat since he never let me see it for long, but now there was only pressure; pressure to remember his words and get everything right. 

“To save you,” I whispered back, shoving his body to the right so I could get a good view of his ribs. That one touch made something stir inside of me, even if it was meant to be mean. His body was hot to the touch, and it had been so long since I’d been able to feel his skin. I could tell I had the same influence on him as he hid a groan. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye almost amused by his inability to hold himself back in front of the entire military regiment stationed in Mitras. However, I didn’t care about the others. Right now, there were still three people in the room. Levi, Zachary, and I. My closeness to Levi’s skin soon started to affect me as he was able to sit up, looking right at me as I inspected the scar on his lower stomach. 

“Knife fight when you were thirteen. You almost lost.” I mumble, touching two fingers to the scar like I had done before. This made him take in another harsh breath, and I removed my touch to write it down on the piece of paper, location and all. 

“Did you have to strip me in front of everyone?” He whispered again and this time I gave him a small smirk before standing up and turning back to Zachary. 

“Here is the list. All thirteen scars that Squad Leader Hange didn’t mark. All with locations and most with timestamps, Premier.” I handed the pad to his helper, and they ran it up to him. He ran one finger over the list and looked again at Levi, ready to quiz him with random locations. My heart picked up again with anxiety. If I had gotten one wrong, we would be done for.

“Captain Levi. The scar on your left shoulder, right below the collar bone?” 

“Fell through a roof at age twenty-one.” Zachary leaned back, the same sickening smile starting to form. I had gotten them right. 

“Small oval scar right below your left pectoral muscle?” Levi now shifted his glance to me, trying to remember what he told me. There was doubt in his face. Had I really put all of this to my memory? Was I that devoted to him to remember all the scars he had? 

“A bullet wound. Age of seventeen.” 

“Finally, the long scar just above your waistline?” The one I touched. The one I first made him mention to me. I saw it flicker in his eyes again. The emotion I had always assumed was pain. It wasn’t pain. This time I confirmed what it was. It was Levi registering just how much one person could care about him. It was disbelief. Disbelief that after all this time I still remembered. After all this time, I still came here and risked my life in front of the military for him. How could one person do all of that for him? 

“Knife fight when I was thirteen.” Premier Zachary let out a booming laugh, knowing that the fake claims had been bested by someone the military had no knowledge of. He was laughing because it was so amusing to him, my presence. My existence. One girl from the Underground had bested someone. They were going to be watching me now. I was added to the list of people they needed to destroy right then and there. Yet, pride welled in my chest. 

“As we can all see, based on the ages that Captain Levi had received the scars, and the knowledge that Miss Flynn here has of these things, she would also have known if Captain Levi had murdered any Garrison member. I have full trust in her words, as they were sworn under oath. Therefore, I declare Captain Levi not guilty of the claims presented against him. If anyone dare oppose my word, speak now.” The courtroom was silent, only filled with someone putting Levi’s shirt back on him before getting ready to release his hands. 

“Then, I declare the court dismissed.” He hit his gavel twice and the courtroom’s noise increased ten-fold. Everyone was talking about this girl from the Underground who had just saved a Scout Captain. Everyone was talking about whether or not they agreed with the verdict. I was just staring at Levi as they let him go, leading him through another door to perhaps give him back and confiscated items. 

“Eva!” Hange yelled, running over to me now that the platform was free for anyone, “You did great!” She grabbed both of my arms, pulling me into a hug, and as she did this, the reality of the situation hit me. All the emotion I was holding back came crashing through, and she had to hold me up for a minute. 

“Hange, I really feel like I'm going to pass out.” She laughed, hearing me say that again, and then when I was stable enough she let go. All of them were smiling at me, even Miche. I’d done what they needed me to do. 

“Miss Flynn?” A deep voice sounded behind me, and I turned, pulling the shawl tight around my body so he had no chance to look like he had on his stand. 

“Premier Zachary,” I bowed, “Thank you for your verdict.” He smiled, laughing once or twice before continuing. 

“I admire your ability to speak with confidence in front of an unknown crowd. Not even many soldiers could do what you did today.” I stayed bowed, hiding the amount of skin he could look at. 

“Thank you, Premier.” He handed me my ID card, and I looked down at it once more seeing the child looking back at me. If only she could see me now. 

“I was going to comment on the fact that you knew how long Captain Levi’s scars went below his pant waistline, but I decided it wasn’t important. Next time, be mindful.” I stuttered only then and there, feeling the smirks of the three behind me. They were going to get the wrong idea. 

“I-I… I am not anticipating a next time, P-Premier.” He smiled lightly before grabbing my hand and shaking it. 

“Whether it be here in the courtroom, or perhaps a military ball, I wish to see you again, Miss Flynn. You interest me. Well, I am off.” He let go of my hand, not letting me even react to what he had just said. All I know is that my stomach dropped and a feeling of dread came over me. That was him telling me he was going to be watching. 

“Well, um… Eva, I’m sure you would like to talk to Captain Levi after your exchange.” I tried to hide my blush from Erwin and the rest and nodded. I needed to talk to him after my revelation and after what I was told coming here. I wanted to know the real reason he decided that he needed to be separate from me for so long. 

“Eva, Eva, Eva,” Hange whispered in my ear as we walked to a wing I remembered as the offices, “Did you and Levi do what I think you did?!” Her voice went up at the end in excitement. My blush got deeper, and I was thankful Miche and Erwin were in front of us because of the information I was about to give Hange. 

“No, we haven’t. The only reason I knew about Levi’s scars was that I forced him to tell me once. Nothing like that, Hange.” She frowned, sad to not hear any juicy details she could poke Levi with later. We turned into a hallway that I was familiar with and Hange again took her arm off of me. 

“We have some other paperwork and things to do, so I’ve instructed them to bring Captain Levi to his room while he’s waiting to be cleared. We will leave tomorrow morning. Make sure no one… catches you two.” Erwin gestured to the door I remembered, Levi’s name plaque still right above the handle. Again, I hid my face with my hair, walking into the empty room. When Erwin closed the door behind me, I all but collapsed on the desk chair. I put my head in my hands too, recalling what just happened. 

“I lied to the government. They know who I am now. By the walls, I'm so done for.” I pulled my face back, looking down once more at my ID. This stupid thing I had no idea why I kept just saved both of us. This stupid little kid, not smiling, and a bruise under her right eye just saved me. 

“Imagine if I knew where I’d end up back then. I’d probably just stay in the Underground.” I put the card on the empty desk, sitting back again. The room smelled like him, just like it had before. He’d been staying here regularly from what Erwin said, and I could tell. Before, the scent was only on the bed and very faint. Now it was all over and giving me a headache. I’d tried too hard to not give in to the temptation of the shirts he had left me, but the number of times they ended up in my hands at night made them lose their smell quickly. This was the first time in a long time I’d been overwhelmed by it and I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate my thoughts. I was trying to summarize the events that happened, but it was of no use. All I could think about now was him. All I could think about were the extra injuries on his skin, red and fresh. The ones that everyone just pretended not to see. They had hurt him here. 

“Thank you, I know where my room is. You trapped me there for weeks.” The voice outside the door made my eyes snap open, and I turned so I was facing the window. It felt like an hour before the knob turned and the door opened, quickly closing behind him. Again, I felt his eyes on me, but this time I could feel it at its full intensity. There wasn’t any trial, any other man, or any outside force that I had to concentrate more on than him. The one-and-a-half-year-old needed conversation was going to happen now.

“Look at me.” I didn’t move, even though it wasn’t a suggestion. I just stared outside of the window, watching a white bird fly by. He sighed, and this time asked. 

“Eva, can you look at me?” I just turned over my shoulder, looking at him once then turning back. The emotion was there. The disbelief. It made me swallow hard and remember everything I had to go through the past year-and-a-half. I was the one still in disbelief of what Hange had told me. 

“D-did you really order Hange to come to the café every month because you couldn’t?” 

“Did you give her peppermint tea every month and tell her to say that she was the one who bought it?” I put my hand over my mouth, holding the whimper trying to come from it. This whole time. This whole time was a lie. All the emotional turmoil I went through was for what? 

The chair turned, and I was centimeters from his face. This was the closest we had been for so long, but I wasn’t able to look him in the eyes anymore. He put one hand under my chin, lifting my face up so I was looking right at him. This time, there wasn’t disbelief. There was a look that sent warmth throughout my whole body. It confirmed that, yes, this whole time we’d been lying to each other about the feelings we still felt. All those words he told me before leaving me were all lies. 

“I told you to look at me,” he whispered, his breath fanning over my lips. 

“I am.” It was all of two seconds before he leaned down and crushed his lips onto mine in a frenzy. A year-and-a-half. That’s how long it had been since we last held each other. Since we last talked. Since we last felt the person’s warmth on top of us. How had we stayed apart for so long? He forced me to stand up, away from the window, and pressed me to the nearest wall. One arm was above my head while the other was holding the back of my neck, trying so hard to have no space between us. I threw both of my arms around his neck, trying to do the same. There was no time to be apart now. It had been too long. 

“The way you acted back there. To see you stand up to all of them in the courtroom. When you talked back to the Garrison Sergeant. So confident and strong. To protect me like that. So powerful. You have no idea what that did to me.” Both of our breathing was ragged as he pulled back to give me that affirmation, “The whole time you were next to me. Touching me. I wanted to lean down and kiss you right there. In front of everyone so they would stop looking at you like a piece of meat. I was so tempted to let everyone know you were mine.” He brought his lips down on mine again, lost in some sort of power lust. I was drowning in it too. I didn’t care how he’d made me feel previous. I wanted to forget everything that happened before. Being in his arms made me forget. 

“Reward me,” I whispered out as he began his assault on my neck and my now easily accessible collarbone. He laughed in my ear, his breath sending goosebumps down my spine. 

“I’m not going to have my first time with you be in this musty ass barrack either, brat.” I groaned, and he pulled back completely, straightening out the hair that I had messed up. He looked me up and down, having time to now register what I was wearing. The shawl had fallen somewhere on the floor and I had nothing to cover myself from his wandering eyes. Even if he had just taken my breath away, I still felt exposed. 

“I’ll reward you by sleeping with you. Tonight. I haven’t slept in a long time, and I’d rather have you in my arms when I do.” A huge smile broke through on my face, knowing this wasn’t a reward, but one way for him to apologize. It made my heart skip a beat. He was finally going to do it. I just nodded quickly, having no words to say. When I did this, he smiled. A real smile. A smile that seemed to be brighter than the sun shining through the windows. He grabbed me, pulling me towards him and burying his face into my neck. The position we had always taken before. 

We would figure everything out later. Every nuance. Every secret we had kept from each other. Right now, all that mattered was holding the other person and making up for the time we missed. Making up for the number of times we could have kissed on the couch while the sounds of Trost faded in the distance. Right now, we only cared for the other person. The person we'd missed so much that it was turning into pain. The pain wasn't being together, the pain was always because we were apart.

“I missed you, Evlynn. So much.”

Chapter Seventeen →

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