Nature had become a part of you. The wilderness lived twisted in vines through your skeleton, ran deep like water in your blood, settled in like soil in your skin. You breathed with the breeze, moved with the leaves. You were apart of the landscape of vast forests and underbrush and tributaries.

People agreed Yosemite could never be fully uncovered. There was too much land and mountains. Too much uncharted territory and trees that seemed to wrap their limbs around people, dragging them deeper and deeper until they became ghosts to the world.

Lost.

A simple word that held so much weight.

Some people said you were lost. That you had taken a wrong turn, stepped off the trail.

You didn’t need a trail. Just the map in your head and the untouched vastness of the forest.

Others believed you were some type of mythical creature or a monster. They made up stories about the Forest Girl, or worse, the Forest Creature. Parents told their children to stay close on hikes for fear of the Forest Girl leading them astray in the unforgiving wilderness. Every missing case filed somehow led to a possibility of Yosemite’s creature with pointy teeth and sharp claws luring innocent tourists to their demise.

To you, there was no need in telling them any different. That really, you were just a girl who’d been abandoned and somehow found her footing in a park of wild animals and flowering growth.

Deep within the tall trees was a shack. Long ago in a memory you’d rather forget you’d come across it, not caring what it was or what it used to be. Those simple four walls became your sanctuary of safety from the elements. But your true home was the natural woods and open meadows. A place you knew by heart. One where there was always something more to discover.

The park rangers knew you existed. To your surprise they didn’t put it in their little pamphlets as a tourist attraction of a girl who somehow survived out there all by herself. Come get a glimpse of our wild girl you sometimes expected the brochure to read.

But just because they knew you were out there didn’t mean they felt the need to drive you away.

Maybe some believed the crazy stories people came up with about you but even if they ever did come to take you away from your home, you made sure they’d never be able to catch you.

You were a deer, prancing through a forest that provided food, water, and shelter.

But that meant you were also a prime target for those who wanted to kill innocence and butcher your peace for no good reason.

Living in fear kept you alive. Trusting another human was something you never dared to touch.

Until one day running turned into a chase.

Trees whizzed past your face, branches scraping your skin. Your palms were scraped up from using the bark to pull yourself through the forest, hoping it’d make you go faster. The limp in your gait was very noticeable, pain searing up your leg every time you stepped.

Some steel, man-made trap had sunk deep into the flesh of your left leg. You weren’t sure how you’d missed it. Usually you found the signs of hunters. Even if people called you an animal, you were much more keen on knowing the whereabouts of humans in your vicinity. Staying clear of camp grounds and trails was easy enough. Spotting bear traps was even easier.

But whatever strange contraption that had caught you had been a blind spot.

Stubborn tears stung at your eyes as you pushed open the door to the shack. It was a small wooden building deep within low hanging branches, nearly invisible to the ordinary eye.

In one corner lay a messy heap of old quilts on a dingy mattress that smelled of mildew. There was a tiny table, one of the legs broken and being held up with a book. On it was a candlestick, a box of matches, and a med kit you’d stolen from one of the less attentive park rangers. Tattered clothes were draped over a ripped cushion and a wooden figurine of a fox stood on a rusty stool.

It wasn’t much but you got by.

Blood dripped onto the rickety floorboards as you sank to the ground, biting your lip to keep from alerting any nearby predators. Although, you were pretty sure the blood trail you left was more incriminating than any escaped whimper.

Carefully, you began to unwind the wire that was cut deep into your skin. The pain was enough to make your vision go black at the edges.

Somehow you managed to remove it and moved onto soaking up the blood with one of your shirts. It came away sopping but unfortunately it would have to work. It staunched the flow as best it could and you went to wrapping it in leaves, securing it with a bandage from the kit.

It did little to help the pain but you were sure it would subside at some point.

For a moment you just sat against the mattress, breathing hard.

You listened for an animal to come scratching at your door, pawing to use you as it’s next meal. In your reckless attempt to fix your leg, you had given just about every creature out there your location.

That simply wouldn’t do.

At least an hour had passed before you reached for a pail of water tucked beside the table. You carefully poured it over the wound before splashing some onto your face.

Today was a close call.

One you couldn’t let happen again.

With caution, you slowly pushed open the door and listened. Out there deep in the wilderness, it was never as quiet as people made it seem. There was always a bug buzzing, a bird chirping, a squirrel chittering. They were sounds that lulled you to sleep every night, along with the trickling of a nearby stream.

But right now, you listened closely for a predator stalking through the tall grass or the tell-tale growl of one with a need to sate their hunger.

You knew a thing or two about starvation. It took a while but at some point you’d gotten used to the feeling of an empty stomach most days. Normally you got by on berries and nuts paired with a roasted rodent or reptile. Only a few times had you been fortunate enough to catch a slippery fish or a juicy bird or deer.

Everything when pushed so far into hunger would eventually become a predator.

Time passed quickly but you could’ve easily been sitting in the doorway for hours waiting for something to come and snatch you up.

Soon enough you deemed it safe enough to venture out. You winced as you limped, following the darkened trail you’d left and covering up your tracks with leaves. You scrambled the dirt, doing your best to flip over bloody leaves and trying to wipe any off of nearby rocks.

You were mad at yourself for being so careless about leaving such an easy way for someone to find you.

It didn’t happen often but when it did, you wouldn’t sleep until it was covered up.

Coming across a small stream, you sat down by it and sighed in relief as you dipped your hurt leg in. Crimson bloomed in the current before washing away.

How easy it was to rid yourself of evidence. It was a wonder how nobody managed to track you down.

Glancing up at the canopy, you took note of the way the sun rays streamed through. At the slant they were at, it was nearing mid-day. Time seemed to have gotten away from you with your earlier injury.

Around you, the forest was alive. The sweet smell of Aspen filled your nose as you walked, leaves and twigs crunching softly under your bare feet.

The forest seemed to welcome you as one of its own. A family made of ancient trees and soil. Sometimes you’d whisper just to hear your voice carry with the breeze, wondering if maybe one day your words would reach some other lonesome forest dweller.

Your feet carried you through to a clearing. The meadow was covered in swaying yellow grass, a few wildflowers sprouted over the land. Bugs danced in the warm afternoon light, filling you with a sense of comfort.

They were living. Minding their business just like you were.

Yet it was so juxtaposing how such an undisturbed scene could just as easily be ruined.

You flinched at the sound of a whinnying horse, ducking behind a tree before you could spot it or they could spot you.

The park was so big that sometimes you just took your chances of finding somewhere that looked too far away for an outsider to find. But you never got close enough to know when they would go off-roading.

Carefully, you peeked just a single eye around the tree. In the distance was a horse with a brown coat and a man sitting comfortably on top. You knew who he was. Everyone in Yosemite knew Kyle Turner.

But he didn’t need to know you.

Even with your bad leg you managed to scurry off quick enough that the leaves would settle before they could give you away.

You slowed down once you felt far enough and your leg was burning again. Maybe exploring would have to wait for a day when you weren’t struggling to walk.

As you began your trek back to the shack, you stopped in your tracks when you heard the sound of a motor racing down the trail.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d stumbled upon a trail until you looked down and saw your toes crossing the line where grass met packed dirt.

As the ATV grew closer, you backed up and went to flatten yourself against the ground.

But he’d already seen you.

You felt frozen, blinking at him like a deer in headlights. The breeze snagged on your tattered white dress suddenly a lot more roughly, the air shifting as another presence entered your orbit. Gravity shifted, throwing you off your axis.

You’d seen him before. Shane something? He was a deer hunter for the most part, you knew, but you were also aware of the shady business he sometimes got himself involved in. You’d come across his camp a few times, picking through his belongings and then making it sure it looked just as it did before.

He was a dangerous man. An excellent hunter with that rifle that always sent alarm bells ringing through your head.

So you turned and bolted like a startled rabbit.

You didn’t know if he’d make chase but you weren’t going to stick around and find out either.

Adrenaline made it possible for you to run and not feel the way your leg screamed in agony, the wrap tearing on brambles as you dashed through the thicket.

“Hey!” His deep voice boomed, practically resounding off the trees. His boots pounded against the forest floor, breaking sticks and smashing pine cones. Fear zigzagged through your spine, listening to the way that rifle clinked against his body with every footfall.

Despite the heat of the chase, you gave him credit for being brave enough to stray from the path. To most people, that was a lifeline. No one seemed stupid enough to venture off the path that meant being found.

Except for Shane.

You ran like your life depended on it because out there, it did. Anything willing to give chase was a threat. Especially if you’d given no reason for him to be provoked. You were the uncivilized one but the fear of being caught in a hunters net was what kept your feet moving.

Knowing leading him right to your shack would be a death wish, you snatched a stone and dipped behind a thick tree.

Your chest heaved as you clutched the stone tight to your chest. It was your only weapon against the man with a gun strapped to him.

Shane eventually broke through the branches. You couldn’t see him and you wouldn’t dare to either. Hiding was what you were good at. You didn’t have claws and sharp teeth like people said you did.

You were just a girl who learned how prey stayed clear of the predator.

He was breathing somewhat regularly even after all that running, his rustling giving away his position.

He was close. Too close.

Maybe he wasn’t hunting you or maybe he was. Maybe he just wanted to know more about the tall tale of the Forest Girl up close and personal.

But you’d rather let the vultures pick your carcass clean before you ever let someone get close to you.

Your fingers tightened around the stone as the snap of a twig sounded close to your right.

“I know you’re there,” Shane called, making birds scatter into the sky and you to flinch. “You’re not the only one who knows this forest.”

Trying hard not to breathe too heavily, you matched it to the breeze, becoming one with the air to throw him off track.

But he was a hunter. A really good one at that.

“I know about you,” he continued, his voice nearly taunting. Like he was playing with his next meal. “Our little Forest Girl, ain’t that right?”

Slowly, so slowly, you began to crouch down into the grass. Running wasn’t an option anymore. Hiding only worked so well until you were found.

So, like a katydid, you blended into your surroundings. The grass obscured you as you got low, belly pressing into the ground.

“I ain’t gonna hurt ya,” Shane spoke like he meant it but you didn’t believe him. Not by a long shot. You once watched him shoot a deer from miles away without any hesitation. For all you knew you were just some doe he was looking to hang on his wall.

He turned his attention to behind the tree. You were already long gone, only leaving behind a mark of blood now soaking into the earth.

To anyone who’d even caught a whisper of the Forest Girl stories always seemed to ask more questions about her. Where did she come from? Was she a girl at all? How did she survive in those conditions for so long? The list went on. Some believed she was just a myth. Others thought she was a monster. The park rangers thought she was just a girl who wanted to be left alone.

But Shane Maguire needed her to understand that she didn’t own the forest.

Ever since he heard about her, he’d been fascinated. How could a frail thing like that make it on her own? There were so many things to worry about alone in the wilderness. Diseases were one thing, not to mention hypothermia and heat stroke in certain climates, parasites, venomous reptiles, bloodthirsty wolves and bears, and that was only scratching the surface.

Yet, the more he watched her, the more he started to understand how the wild could raise a person.

Shane was an excellent tracker and hunter, he knew that. Everyone knew that. But catching up to that girl was damn near impossible.

There was no getting close to you. No way to ambush you or trap you. It was like you used the trees and bushes as your eyes and ears.

The closest any ranger had gotten to you was Kyle.

And Shane was more jealous than he should’ve been.

When he wasn’t hunting deer, he was watching you. If and when he could find you. Sometimes he found footprints in the mud, no shoes. Other times he could feel another presence lingering. Almost like you were watching him too.

Usually, he watched you through the scope of his rifle. It was easier that way. It meant you wouldn’t flee, becoming a precious little fawn under his observation.

A sight for him and for him alone.

He was so taken by you. You were as free as a bird, running around in a dirty, tattered dress with wild hair that clearly hadn’t been cut in a while. He observed how wary you were when there was a sudden noise or shift in the air.

But what got him the most was how serene you were when it was just you and the forest. You were so untouched by the world, so pure and untamed.

And no one but him got to witness it.

A part of him wondered what people would say about him if he caught you. If everyone knew that Shane Maguire was the one to get close to the Forest Girl.

But the other, stronger part of him wanted to keep you as his secret. Clearly that’s what you wanted—to remain unseen, hidden in the underbrush or high up in the trees. And he was willing to give you that if only he could be apart of it.

Chasing after you wasn’t the best idea he’d had. You ran like a crazed animal, just like he knew you would.

Then he’d found out you were bleeding. And somehow, you managed to cover your trail this time.

When he got back to his camp, he decided he’d use a different strategy than his previous approaches to get you close. This time, he’d lure you out of hiding instead of chasing you into it.

Shane found a tin of salve in his camp, one he kept on standby just in case of an emergency. But you needed it more than he did.

There was no telling when you’d come back around, especially after what he pulled. And if you did, chances were that you’d stay far, far away from him.

But he knew desperate creatures. How somehow, someway they would be drawn to a safety net.

So he left it a few feet away from his camp, lid unscrewed and left open for the taking.

Patience was something he’d mastered in the army. Waiting was easy for him, having the forest to keep him company. When he thought about it, he came to the conclusion that it was the same way for you.

The day bled into night and back to morning. The adrenaline had long since worn off, leaving your leg throbbing in pain. You barely had gotten any sleep, the mixture of pain and fear of Shane finding your shack being the leading cause.

But it was a new day and you had to fix your leg and fast before infection could finally catch up to you.

On your adventure to find a way to heal your wounds, you came across shed antlers and a bees nest. Usually you’d stop and examine both of them but not today.

Eventually, you could barely walk. Your entire body ached, unusual for you since all you did was move. But the wound was making your muscles and joints tighten, which made everything more difficult.

Just when you thought you had to find a ranger and steal from them, you found a tin with some sort of thick substance inside.

Hesitantly, you took it. It felt like a trap, like it’d been left out for you. But the second you smeared it onto your leg, your defenses dropped a little bit. The relief felt like plunging into a cold river after a long, hot day in the sun. You sighed, leaning back against a tree as the pain slowly but surely eased.

That’s when you felt his gaze.

Like before, you dropped to your stomach, the grass tickling your exposed sun-kissed skin as you watched through the tufts.

Not too far away, you saw Shane. Knowing running would cost you the relief, you didn’t move. You just stayed hunkered down in the foliage, keeping your sharp eyes trained on him like a bird of prey.

He didn’t seem to be doing much. Just sitting there, sipping on a beer. The sun caught the blonde stubble on his chin and jaw, the breeze ruffling his hair.

From afar, he didn’t look like the man who’d chased you through the woods yesterday. He looked calm. Just a man enjoying beautiful Yosemite.

But you weren’t that trusting. Never had you put your trust in a person. You had learned they were unreliable, changing so suddenly that any solid ground would break open at any given moment.

Natures change was constant. The weather, the migration patterns, the seasons. You couldn’t control them, but you knew when they would happen. That’s what made living wild second nature to you.

A few days passed and you steered clear of Shane as best you could. It got easier as your leg started to heal properly thanks to that salve he so generously left out for you. You were wary about it. No person would just do that if they didn’t want something in return.

Which was why you crept around his camp more often now.

You still kept your distance, making sure you were concealed just in case he came wandering back. Sometimes it kept you up at night, thinking about what he’d do if he ever managed to catch you.

As far as you knew, people would pay good money to see the Forest Girl become a tourist attraction. Putting a wild animal in a cage already caught people’s interest so you wondered how much they’d pay to see a wild girl be put in its place.

Shane was rarely at his camp, you noticed. All he did there was eat, drink, and sleep. But when he wasn’t there, he was out hunting deer or you.

On a particularly sunny day, you found a berry bush. You needed to stock up on your food supply and picked a bunch, putting them into the bucket that was usually for water. The forest seemed calm today, like maybe all the predators had taken a break for once.

The suns rays warmed your skin as you walked through the trees, snacking on a few berries. Delicious flavors burst onto your tongue. The juice stained your fingers and you wiped them on your dress, leaving behind dark blue prints.

Finally, for the first time in weeks, you felt like you didn’t have to keep looking over your shoulder.

But it was what was right in front of you that made you freeze.

You darted behind low branches, hiding in the leaves as you watched two park rangers hover by the door to your shack.

Kyle and Naya, dressed in uniform, stood around your slice of safety. They were talking but you weren’t sure what was coming out of their mouths.

You knew they were the only two rangers who knew where you lived. But you never got close enough to know what they wanted from you.

It wasn’t long before Kyle started back towards his horse, Naya looking around before following.

You stayed hidden for long after they were gone before slowly creeping out and approaching the shack with hastened steps.

Before you could open the door, you felt the air shift. Not a bear, not a mountain lion. A person.

Did they come back? Did they somehow see you?

You quickly rushed inside, pushing the small table in front of the door before crouching below the tiny window and looking out at the tree line.

No one stepped out. There was no movement, no noise. Yet, you didn’t stop looking until you couldn’t fight sleep anymore.

For some unknown reason, you began to hang around Shane’s camp more often now. You even started to inch closer just because you wanted to know more. Until one day he wasn’t there anymore. You assumed he’d just moved his camp somewhere else and after days of tracking him through the forest, it led you right to his cabin. You felt better knowing you had eyes on him instead of the other way around.

He was a creature of habit, you noticed, as most people are. He was gone for long periods of time and when he got back he just went through the motions.

You hated living in fear. Paranoia had settled into your bones like an unwanted visitor. But Shane was unpredictable and coexisting with him seemed too hard for both of you.

One night, you sat under the glow of the flickering candle in your shack. Sitting on your bed with a book you couldn’t read, you snacked on some berries and ate parts of a cooked bird you managed to catch.

Outside the tiny four walls, an owl let out a long hoot and the crickets chirped loudly. Wax dripped in a rhythmic pattern against the table, the only sign of human life so deep in the forest.

You skimmed through the pages of a picture book, taking in the pretty drawings of whales and dolphins and sea turtles. Whoever left it rotting on that bench deserved a thank you for giving you such entertainment.

It was hard to focus, though. Your eyes kept darting to the door, to the small window, expecting to see a passing shadow. You stared holes into the broken latch of the door, barely keeping you tucked away from the dangers that lurked in the dark.

But you were prepared.

Next to you was a pile of rocks for throwing and a large bucks antler for wielding. Just a precaution.

And it seemed like you were going to need them.

With the moon high in the starry sky, you were fighting sleep when you heard it. Soft footsteps were coming from the surrounding woods, but there was no clink of metal. A sign of a hunter who knew what they were doing.

You leapt to your feet, rock in hand as you yanked the door open. Frantically, your eyes scanned the darkened woods, expecting anything to jump out at you.

Then the moonlight caught his eye.

Shane emerged from the trees, stepping into the small clearing with his hands raised. You immediately reared the rock back.

“Woah there,” he said lowly but you couldn’t stop staring at the rifle slung over his shoulder. “I ain’t here to hurt ya.”

Your nostrils flared and you launched the rock. “Get away from me!”

Shane barely flinched, just moving enough to dodge the projectile. He watched as you quickly grabbed another rock and secured the antler into your other hand before coming right back out.

“This isn’t your land!” Shane called.

“I still live here!” You shouted back. “I ain’t causing no trouble.”

He let out a deep chuckle, one that sent chills spiraling up your arms. “You scare off the tourists. But I guess you do keep most of them from going off the trails.”

You breathed heavily and threw another rock. “I know what they say ‘bout me. But I did nothin’ to anyone!”

Shane knew you were telling the truth. You were skilled to be able to live out there alone and clearly you could hunt with your bare hands. As much as fables and stories were spread around, none of them came up with a lie about the Forest Girl attacking campers and hikers.

“Now go!” You nearly screamed, flinging yet another rock at him.

This one grazed his arm but he wasn’t bothered by it. He just stared at you, eyes feral and hair unruly. You really did belong in the wilderness.

But he wasn’t giving up that easily.

Slowly, he slipped a thumb under the strap of his rifle. You watched intently, heart beating like a drum. All he did was slip it off his shoulder and toss it into the grass.

“You really are a wild one, huh?” He asked rhetorically, his lips curving into an amused smile.

You knew you’d lose in a fight against him. He was big and broad, strong from carrying around deer carcasses and heavy equipment. You had some height to you but you didn’t have the muscle strength like he did.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What do you want from me?”

His brows raised, not expecting such a candid question. “Let’s start off simple; what’s your name?”

It was so simple. Didn’t everyone ask for a name the first time they met someone? For your whole life no one had ever cared about your real name. The one that gave you an identity.

Despite it all, your fear and anger, you found yourself wanting to tell him. To be something other than Forest Girl to someone. So you did.

Shane repeated the name, tasting it on his tongue and it felt strange and almost… nice. You hadn’t heard your name in years. You were surprised you even still remembered it.

“Pretty name,” he said before slipping his hand into his pocket.

You tightened your grip on the antler.

“Easy now.” Shane pulled out a few items, crinkling them in his hands. He held them up, showing that they were just snacks—a beef jerky stick, a pack of cheese slices, and a granola bar.

Was this some type of peace offering? You assumed it was considering how he knew you wouldn’t take them and instead tossed them towards you.

They landed in the grass at your feet with a muted thud.

“I’m not asking you to trust me,” Shane said, staying rooted to his spot. “But wouldn’t it be nice to have someone out here looking out for you?” Even though I already do.

“I don’t need anything from you,” you replied, voice clipped and cold. “Or—or anyone.”

Yet, somewhere deep down, you were open to this idea of not being completely alone in the world. It was a desire you’d pushed deep down under moss and roots, but somehow it still kept sprouting when watered upon.

And Shane Maguire was giving it back to you.

“Suit yourself.” Was all he said before picking up his rifle and turning back from where he came. Before he disappeared, he gave you one last glance. “See you around, sweetheart.” Then he left, whistling without a care.

For a moment you didn’t move. You stared at the rustling leaves he’d just disturbed until you could no longer hear his whistles or footsteps.

Eventually you looked down at the food he left. The stubborn part of you didn’t want to take it but you knew that would be a foolish thing to do.

Without a word, you gathered them and went back inside. You ate the granola bar quickly, quietly, like some scavenger would come and take it away. Once your stomach felt satisfied, you laid on your springy mattress and pulled the scratchy quilts over your body.

You counted the lines in the floor as you drifted to sleep. When you finally closed your eyes, Shane was there and this time? You didn’t feel afraid.

A storm had settled over Yosemite, bringing the heavy scent of rain and covering the pines with a thick mist. Rivers and streams were rushing with the downpour and you could hear it even from the shack. Tiny cracks in the ceiling exposed you to the elements, causing a rhythmic drip drip drip as it hit the floor.

At some point you’d gotten annoyed and headed out into the storm.

The smell of damp earth and rain refreshed your system, your feet sinking into the soft soil. The cool air was a nice change from the heat that had swept through the valley.

As you walked, you realized you hadn’t been looking over your shoulder as much. You kept thinking about Shanes words: wouldn’t it be nice to have someone out here looking out for you?

For years you’d made it on your own. But now that someone was offering? It almost hurt how much you wanted to accept it.

You came across a small pond teeming with life. Dragonflies zipped across the surface, fish swam beneath, frogs croaked on lily pads. You sat on the lip above the water where a branch had fallen, letting your toes skim the top. Ripples spread over the water, disorienting your reflection.

You knew what you looked like but out where no one could see you, you didn’t care.

“Hello there,” you said in a soft voice, smiling as a salamander sidled up next to you. You held out a hand, letting it crawl into your palm before stroking its slimy head with a single finger.

“Well would you look at that.”

Your head snapped to the direction of his voice, watching as Shane approached from the other side of the pond. Still, you felt a need to run but you didn’t. Not yet.

“Like a real life Snow White,” Shane said, crouching down to examine the lively pond.

You tracked his every move carefully. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Not surprised.” He breathed out gruffly before looking at you sitting on that branch like some sort of nature princess.

Surprisingly neither of you said much. Just enjoyed the moist atmosphere and the little ecosystem in front of you. You noticed that he didn’t have his rifle on him today. Just a small hand gun tucked into a holster at his belt.

And they consider me as the barbarian you thought to yourself.

Shane, on the other hand, was not thinking about his weapon or even the peaceful forest. He couldn’t take his eyes off of your smooth, untouched skin and how the rain made your thin white dress cling to your curves. It became clear to him that you weren’t wearing a bra, being able to see the faint pink of your breasts and how your nipples perked up in the cold air.

He felt like a dirty man and tried averting his eyes to your hair, frizzy in the humidity and how your lashes caught raindrops. You were so beautiful, he thought. How had no one noticed before?

And right here, right now, he had you all to himself.

He stood up, keeping his hand away from his pistol. “I came out to tell you the storms gonna get worse. Thought I’d give you a heads up.”

You took a brief glance up at the sky. The dark clouds were gathering quickly. They were most likely going to result in a thunderstorm and you definitely didn’t want to be around when the lightning struck.

Gently, you set the salamander down and got to your feet. You didn’t wait for Shane as you turned in the direction of your shack but halfway there a loud crack of thunder rattled through the forest, scattering birds on their perches.

You quickened your pace but the downpour was already there, drenching you.

“Hey!” Shane called over the heavy rain a few steps behind you. You turned around, squinting. He gestured aimlessly. “My cabin is dryer. Plus, sleeping on a mildew infested mattress isn’t healthy.”

You blinked. “How did you know—”

He was already walking in the opposite direction. You stood there for a moment, hesitant. You’d followed people before but not because they wanted you to. This sort of felt like walking into another trap but as another thunderclap hit, you headed off after him.

His cabin wasn’t too far but once you were there, you stopped in the doorway.

Shane ran a hand through his wet hair, his dark shirt clinging to his broad shoulders and thick biceps. He glanced over his shoulder at you, looking like a lost puppy. “Come on. It’s cold out there.”

You still didn’t move.

With a heavy sigh, he disarmed himself and put more distance between the two of you.

With all your courage, you stepped inside. The sleek boards under your feet felt different as you tracked in mud, leaving prints behind. Inside was warm, the walls made of mahogany wood boards and there was a small, stone fireplace on one side. There was a practical kitchen, a table, and two sofas in the main room before a narrow hallway extended into the rest of the rooms.

You tried your best to keep your jaw from falling off as you took it all in. This was how people lived?

You let out a startled gasp as you turned your head only to be met face to face with a taxidermy elk head mounted on the wall. You took a step back, losing your footing on the slippery floor and crashed into the ground.

Shane quickly went to help but you were already up, still locked on that elk head.

He didn’t say anything. You were observing his home, just like he’d done with yours. It wasn’t much but it was exactly what he wanted.

He watched as you reached out to touch the dead elk, a sly smirk making his lips curve. He found it rather endearing, your curiosity. Then he saw how you shivered, goosebumps speckling your arms. You were dirty and probably bathed in the rivers or lakes. And Shane wanted to be the one to give you your first, real, warm bath.

While you observed the decorations, he went down the hallway to the small bathroom and ran the tub.

You listened carefully to the flow of water and wondered where it was coming from. You tip toed after him, peeking around the doorframe as he bent over the bathtub.

Sensing your presence, Shane glanced over at you with a slight smile. “You ever had a bath before?”

You kept your hands braced on the frame as you answered, “couple times. A really long time ago.”

Shane’s mind began to spiral with questions about what truly happened to you. He dipped a hand into the water, making sure it wasn’t too hot before stepping back. “Should be a nice experience then.”

You took a steadying breath before stepping into the bathroom and before Shane could leave, you already had your dress over your head.

A thousand emotions fired through his head as he watched you undress. That was the last thing he was expecting. But it really put it into perspective of how wild you were deep down.

Carefully, you stepped into the warmth and gasped at the temperature. It wasn’t too hot. It felt amazing against your cold skin as you began to sink down into it.

Shane knew it was wrong but he couldn’t stop staring. Every soft curve looked so inviting, and the bliss on your face made his heart do something it hadn’t in a while. He got the sudden urge to take care of you. To treat you how you should’ve been treated long, long ago.

He knelt back down by the side of the tub, almost as if he were approaching a skittish animal. “Do you need help?”

You opened your mouth to tell him no but the warm water had made your limbs go slack. In the small room, you didn’t have to watch your back. It was just Shane and he wanted to help you. No one had ever wanted to do that before.

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Okay.”

He scooped some water into his large hands, bringing it up to your shoulder. You flinched at the prospect of being touched. He caught on and let the water fall back. “It’s alright. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

His words made your eyes widen a fraction. He was being patient, respectful.

Putting on a brave face, you said, “You can.”

Taken slightly aback by your permission, he nodded and brought the water to your shoulders again. He let it wash over your skin, his fingers just barely grazing you.

But all it took was that one little brush to wake up all of your nerve endings.

Your body felt a rush of warmth that had nothing to do with the water, the contact of another persons skin on yours making it feel like you had been struck by lightning. It was like coming alive from being trapped in your own head for far too long.

Shane noticed this but said nothing. Just kept washing you with gentle hands. Using his soap, he started to carefully detangle your hair and wash it thoroughly. The sensation felt so good that you closed your eyes and sighed.

Thunder boomed outside, breaking whatever trance you’d fallen into but he pressed a heavy hand on your back.

“Hey,” he said, making you look at him. “You’re safe in here, you got that?”

You slowly nodded before he began to wash the suds out of your hair.

After your bath came to an end, he wrapped a towel around you before going off to find you clean clothes and not the tatters of your dress.

While you waited, you stared at yourself in the mirror. It was different than seeing yourself in the ripples of the water. You brought your fingers to your face, touching the shape of it.

Maybe the days of you fending for yourself were over.

Maybe this was the start of something new for your life.

Shane came back with a grey flannel and sweatpants, handing them to you. “You know how to dress yourself, right?”

You took the clothes, the fabric soft from multiple wears. “Yes.”

He nodded. “Good. I’ll go… make you something.”

Once he was gone, finally giving you privacy, you changed into his clothes. They swallowed you whole. It made you look like a trout caught in the mouth of a shark. You gawked at yourself in the mirror, tugging at the sleeves and the sweatpants that wouldn’t stay around your hips. It wasn’t like you were super small, he was just really big.

Deciding you didn’t like the pants, you left them on the floor and padded back into the main space.

A fire had been lit in the hearth and instantly you were drawn to its heat. You sat down on the floor, wondering at the flames contained in the cave-like stone structure.

Shane walked over, crouching down and handing you a piece of toast on a napkin.

You took it with a hesitant hand.

He sat down beside you with a heavy breath.

You nibbled on the bread, too afraid it wouldn’t stave off the hunger if you ate it too quickly. A long silence passed before you decided to speak.

“Did you tell anyone about me?”

Shane looked over at you. Your hair seemed to glow in the firelight, catching on the faint, fading scars on your knees.

“Now just why would I do that?”

“Because any of your ranger friends would throw me in a net if they found me.”

“They ain’t my friends,” Shane replied, unbothered. “But I don’t doubt they would. That’s why I wanted to find you first.”

You looked at him, brows furrowed. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“You were following me.”

“I wasn’t following you.”

“You just said you did.”

“Those weren’t my words.”

You gave a huff. “But you were still watching me.”

Shane smirked, showing his teeth. “Don’t act like you weren’t doin’ the same thing.”

Surprised by his knowledge, you turned your attention to the fire and shoved a bite of bread into your mouth.

It almost bothered you how satisfied he was with himself for rendering you speechless. His grin widened but shockingly enough he let it go for now.

“So, how long you been out there?”

Anticipating the question, you shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not good with time.”

Shane shifted, resting his arms on his knees. “Do you at least know how you got out there?”

The answer to that question was something you hadn’t thought of in a very long time. You chose not to think about what had happened, why you had been thrown into the forest to fend for yourself. But it didn’t bother you as much anymore.

It was the first chapter in a story that was lost to people who thought they knew the whole book.

“Forever ago,” you began solemnly. “Car accident. I… lived, they died. Like a normal child I was terrified, lost in the great unknown by myself. But my dad, I think, had taught me how to handle being lost, how to navigate the woods. That’s what kept me alive.”

Shane watched you, hard eyes softening as much as they could for a man like him. Car crashes weren’t rare for the park but a missing girl as a result of one definitely was.

As he thought back, it suddenly started to click. That case from years ago, the one where they had found out the parents had a daughter but they never did find her body.

Most came to the conclusion that she had been dragged away by some hungry wolves, maybe a mountain lion. But the idea of a girl running into the forest by herself and surviving seemed way too ludicrous for anyone to really believe that theory.

Shane was struck with the fact he had just uncovered the truth to a case that’d been laid to rest so long ago.

“You’re her.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “It doesn’t matter anymore, does it? However you know me, I don’t care. I adapted and I endured. I was—I am—happy out there and that’s it.”

“Hey,” Shane said sternly, resting a heavy hand on your knee. Again, his touch felt like electricity shooting up through your leg. It stirred something low in your stomach. Something hot and intimidating.

His eyes bore into yours, the intensity of his gaze enough to start a wildfire. “Stop that. You want to be a secret than you’re going to be a secret. You hear me?”

Too taken aback by the determination in his voice, you just stared at him like he was speaking another language.

His grip tightened. “Look at me and tell me you understand.”

You swallowed hard before nodding. “I understand.”

Every day after that, it wasn’t just the forest anymore. It was the forest and Shane.

There was an understanding between the two of you now—he was still the hunter but never again would you be the one with a target on your back.

After finding the wreckage of what the storm did to your shack, you cried. It was the only piece of you you’d ever had truly to yourself. But instead of having no where to go, Shane let you stay in his cabin.

For months you treated the cabin as just somewhere to stay out of the extreme weather and a place to rest your head.

During the day, you never went there, afraid some ranger would come knocking on his door. So you stayed within the only home that had never collapsed on you—the forest.

Shane got used to taking care of you. He fed you, let you sleep on the floor of his room because you were too scared to sleep elsewhere, bathed you just because he wanted to.

It was easy. You never asked for much, only taking what he gave you.

When he started spending money on you, that’s when Shane knew you were more than just a girl seeking solace in his company.

At first it was just the basics—food, water, feminine and hygiene products. Then it became him buying you clothes, only picking out dresses or loose fitting shorts and shirts because he noticed you hated feeling restricted. Your toothbrush sat on the counter next to his, your floral soap always filling his senses because he found you took interest in scented things. He bought you a pair of shoes that you never wore because again, they felt like they were squeezing your feet even though they were the right size.

You appreciated it more than you could ever express. But it was the moments where it was just the two of you and the quiet of the cabin that spoke louder than any material item.

Most nights you two sat on the floor with dinner, feeling the warmth of the fire on colder days. Around the cabin you liked staying bundled in one of his flannels because it felt like being embraced without actually being touched.

Shane did good keeping his hands to himself since he noted how petrified you looked every time his skin did as much as just graze yours.

But you were not petrified.

Human touch was something you’d gone so long without that it felt overwhelming. Every time his fingers brushed against you, you felt as if you were on a tiny boat in the ocean and it capsized.

But he was also the one who flipped it right side up again.

Being afraid of it became a heady, consuming yearning to be closer. To feel his hands on your unmapped skin. To understand those feelings shoved so far down.

He made you laugh, made you smile, made your heart feel a sort of happiness that you never felt before.

You knew he wasn’t the best man but he was the only one who had ever actually cared.

That was all that mattered to you.

It was a cold November night, Shane just having finished the dishes he’d been putting off for too long. You, of course, were sitting by the fire, curled up in one of the arm chairs instead of the ground for once.

Your fingers ran over the pretty pictures in one of the books Shane had given you. You had a collection piling up of books and magazines just because you liked observing more than reading. He always bought you a new one every time he went by the general store.

“Gray wolf,” you sounded out slowly, fingertips tracing the watercolor lines of the wolf on paper.

Shane glanced over at you, drying his hands on a rag. “Fun fact, gray wolves mate for life.”

You didn’t take your eyes off the page, just nodding along. “Yeah. And once one dies, they typically stay alone for the rest of their life. True love.”

He smothered his smile, finding it almost adorable at you calling animal romance true love.

You glanced over at him. “Are you laughing at me?”

Shane shook his head, raising his hands. “I would never do such a thing.”

You gave a bored look, tilting your head. “You’re laughing at me.”

He couldn’t help it, finding your strict face too cute to stand. He smiled. “Fine. Maybe just a little bit but not because I’m making fun of you.”

“Hmph.” You turned back to your book, flipping the page to a section about birds of prey.

After a while, you spoke up, “did you know sparrowhawks eat smaller males?”

He raised his brows. “Do they now?”

“Yep. It says it right here in my book.”

Shane crossed the room in a few long strides, leaning over you as he scanned the page for where it talked about sparrowhawks. But there wasn’t anything about that type of bird.

His eyes slowly turned to you but you were already smiling. It lit up your eyes, crinkling the corners of them and he couldn’t stop looking. “I think you’re just nature’s greatest observer.”

You laughed softly, closing the book. “I think I can agree with you on that.”

Shane was about to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear before there was a knock. Who could possibly be here at this hour?

You had already leapt to your feet, steering clear of the windows as you made a beeline for his bedroom.

“Open up, Maguire! It’s Kyle!”

A sliver of relief passed through you knowing it was just Kyle but you didn’t trust him. Not like you had found yourself trusting Shane.

You hunkered in his closet, keeping an eye on the window just in case you needed to make an escape.

Moments passed. You couldn’t make out their conversation, only listening to their muffled voices but they both sounded aggravated. Then when Kyle finally left, Shane’s heavy footsteps came down the hallway.

You didn’t emerge until you saw him enter. Once you came out of your hiding spot, he nearly looked relieved.

“What was that about?” You asked quietly, almost afraid you might set off a land mine.

His jaw was tense and his eyes were dark with frustration but it bordered on something more feral. “He saw your shack. Wanted to know if I had anything to do with it.”

It didn’t seem that bad so you just left it be. You hadn’t been in enough arguments to feel confident starting one.

Silently, you stepped closer to the window. You peered into the dark wilderness, still feeling like apart of it even from inside four walls. It was peaceful and you hadn’t realized how scared you were of Kyle ruining that. You liked this slice of tranquil space with Shane, not wanting anyone to intervene.

Shane was frustrated Kyle had almost intruded on it. His anger simmered low in his blood, waiting for a fuse to spark but it never did.

Not when he saw you.

Your hair caught the silver moon, bathing you in liquid steel. His flannel draped over your frame—one he had seen too many times and yet barely got to appreciate.

He wanted to change that.

Shane took a few steps toward you, careful not to crowd but enough for you to feel his warmth.

You felt the shift in the air before you even saw him. Something about it made your heart leap, kickstarting it into a gallop.

Without a word, he brushed his calloused fingers against yours, instantly making your breath hitch.

“Shh,” he shushed quietly, like talking to a startled animal. “It’s alright. Just me.”

You let his fingers curl around yours, the contact making you feel dizzy. He noticed the way you seemed to stop breathing and brought a thumb to your lip. “Breathe, sweetheart.”

His touch was searing. Your brain was sending so many signals to so many different parts of your body, making you nearly malfunction.

Outside you were still a wild one, but in here, you were finally tamed if only for a moment.

One more small step and his body was almost pressing against yours. Your chest started to rise and fall rapidly, your pulse racing under your skin.

He lowered his head slightly, so close you could feel his breath against yours lips which had already started to tingle. “You trust me, right?”

A moment passed as you tried to gather what he was asking you. “Mhm,” you managed to hum. “I do.”

Those two little words were something you never thought you’d ever say to trusting anyone, let alone the man who used to hunt you.

“Good.”

You didn’t have time to grasp what was happening when his lips sealed against yours. You gasped, body freezing up at the foreign feeling.

You couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

All you could feel was his warmth and the scratch of his stubble against your chin and gosh, it felt so amazing.

Shane sensed your shock and pulled away slightly but, feeling brave enough, you put your lips right back to his.

He released a low sound, almost like a growl, as he felt you return what he’d been waiting so long for.

His strong hands settled carefully on your waist but the sensation sent a hot zip of pleasure up your spine. It was a feeling so overwhelmingly and yet you couldn’t get enough.

Despite his best efforts to keep it slow, he deepened it. His tongue pressed against yours lips and you clearly didn’t get the hint so he just pushed right past the barrier. Instantly he groaned at the hot wetness of your mouth, licking into it like he needed to show you what his burning feelings felt like.

He was wary of your reactions, to make sure to pull back if it was too much but it was quite the opposite.

You gasped yet again, only allowing him deeper access. One hand slid up to your nape, fingers tangling in your hair and tilting your head up so he could reach you better.

You both were intoxicating each other. He smelled of pine, rain, cedar, and something distinctly manly. It clogged your senses while he inhaled the scent of your floral shampoo and the way the forest still clung to your skin.

For someone with no experience, he knew you were a fast learner and the way you finally got your hands to grip the fabric of his shirt was proof enough.

He didn’t know how long the two of you stood like that for but when you finally pulled away for air, the sight of you was like a match to gasoline. Your hair was messy from his hand, your pretty lips swollen and wet from his kiss.

“Baby,” he rasped out the nickname like it hurt, pressing his forehead hard against yours.

“Shane.” You whispered shakily, breathily, feeling completely bereft of oxygen.

Somewhere deep in your mind you knew that topped any first kiss ever.

When your knees felt like they were going to buckle, he quickly slipped an arm around your waist, keeping you upright. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

You blinked up at him, wide eyed but something sparkled within those depths. Something new. Something unfamiliar.

And he knew exactly what it was.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Shane asked, smoothing a hand over your hair before pressing a lighter kiss on your lips this time. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

His restraint was fraying and you were not helping at all.

You panted, a new type of high that didn’t come from gallivanting through the forest. “Um… I… my heart’s beating really fast.”

His lips twitched with a smile. “Yeah? So is mine.”

You could feel it beating hard under his chest. It told you that he was feeling very similar to you.

“And… I feel like I can’t get enough air. And I’m uncomfortable because there’s something wet between my legs.”

Shane felt heat lick at his neck and spread far down south. His grip tightened at the implication of your words and had to force himself not to react the way he wanted to.

“Yeah, baby? It’s uncomfortable down there?”

You nodded with a slight pout on your lips. “What is it, Shane?”

Just like before, he found your cluelessness adorable but this time, he felt a possessive urge to help you understand your body and how it was reacting because of him.

“It’s normal,” he said, forcing his voice to be steady. “It’s your body letting you know it wants something.”

Your brows furrowed. “Wants what?”

Shane cupped your face, rough palms catching on soft skin. “Me.”

It clicked to you then, what he was talking about. You read it in books, witnessed it in the wild. How humans and animals weren’t so different in that sense.

He saw when it dawned on you and he saw how panic immediately threatened to seize you.

“We don’t have to do anything, okay?” He whispered. “It’s up to you. But I want you to know that even if you don’t want it, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

You considered his words, eyes searching his face and you saw the sincerity mixed with his desire. You believed him. You trusted he wouldn’t get mad.

But the ache was getting worse and you whimpered softly. “Can you at least make it go away?”

Shane just about lit up at the request but he nodded, brushing a kiss to your forehead and then your nose and then your cheeks. “Of course I can, baby.”

That night, you felt all your loneliness dissipate. It vanished into the cold night air, going back to cling to the trees the way it had before it clung to you. His hands mapped you like you were a new landscape he had always wanted to explore, tracing every valley and dip of your body.

When he found that wet heat of your need, he dove in without ever thinking about breathing again.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you like being caught in the rapids, being thrown every which way and gasping for air every time you surfaced.

Sweat rolled down your chest like snow melt in early spring, your back arching like one of the bridges you stood on to feel like you were flying.

Now? Now you didn’t feel like flying.

As Shane lapped and sucked and licked, you felt like you had slipped off the edge. You barreled towards the ground hard and fast, light rippling behind your eyelids as you crashed into the canopy.

Once you landed, everything felt wet and sticky, tumbling in a lake before crawling onto a ground covered in tacky sap.

And after it was all over? You laid down in a calm meadow where you caught your breath, racing heart slowing down from a high you’d been chasing your entire life.

But you weren’t alone this time.

Shane crawled over you, hands pressing against the mattress and tracing your cheek with a reverence that made you feel warm and wanted.

“You okay?” He whispered, his mouth and chin glistening with your sweetness. He watched how the afterglow set in, your eyes and face relaxed in a way he’d never seen before.

You nodded slowly, a blissed out smile gracing your lips. “Thank you.”

His heart gave a thud before he kissed you, letting you taste your nectar on your tongue. “Don’t needa thank me. Just a man showing his woman what it’s like to not be alone.”

His woman.

You weren’t the Forest Girl anymore. That felt like a distant dream now. You were just a woman who had been by herself her entire life who finally found someone who wanted to show her love.

That night you slept in his bed, his arm draped loosely around your waist. He listened to your heartbeat and traced slow circles on your stomach.

Everyone treated you like you were a monster or a myth or something to be afraid of.

But here in the quiet of his room, Shane Maguire knew he’d follow you blindly through the forest any day if only it meant getting to see his wild girl happy.

He brought his mouth to your ear, hoping you were still awake enough to hear him.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

hi!! i enjoyed writing this so much and i want to share some songs i listened to while writing it…

— white feather hawktail deer hunter | lana del rey

— can’t catch me now | olivia rodrigo

— carolina | taylor swift

— nettles | ethel cain

— out of the woods | taylor swift

Post 2. The writing

I know I’m probably not going to say anything that hasn’t already been said. There has been so many great takes about the incomprehensible writing and I don’t know if I will do them justice but I will give it my best go.

Firstly, we’re going to get the elephant in room out of the way first. Everything we saw on that screen was Neil Gaiman. Plain and simple. Perhaps I had been incredibly naive in thinking that when he was removed from production the new script writers brought in were going to use the skeleton of his story beats and re-write the finale from scratch. I mean, if thousands of fandom fic writers can do it, why can’t published authors? But when you look at the timeline of events, the decision to bring on new writers and the length of time before filming started (whilst pre production had already commenced), the only thing that could have happened was a gutting and condensing of the script.

This was made abundantly clear in the cryptic crossword scene when Aziraphale says the word pedometer, a moment that punched me in the gut, because NG had given that inclusion fact long ago. You can go to this previous post of mine for further context about that.

NG has always had a nihilistic structure to his stories. His characters’ “happy endings” come at great personal cost or sacrifice, or through incredible hardship or heartache. Read Neverwhere, read American God, read Ocean at the end of the Lane, or Sandman (or actually don’t, but you get my point). Protagonists who go through awful tumultuous times before coming out the other end, sometimes unscathed, sometimes worse for ware, sometimes dead. So the way the finale ended set my sights directly on NG to blame.

What is the most galling is, I’m convinced this was ALWAYS how he intended to end it. He spoke many times prior to the allegations coming out how he had completed episodes 3-4 was finishing drafting episode 5 and the end of episode 6 was written. You can clearly see the outlines of the episodes where the story was cut away for time, and then where the plot completely falls apart when everyone is erased which in my opinion, clearly shows where he stopped writing. Plot threads are woven and then completely dropped, and it’s obvious to me how the writers just couldn’t be bother figuring out how to tie them off properly.

Jesus

What on earth was the point of Jesus, except to be a plot device? A reason to get Aziraphale out of Heaven and to work with Crowley. His actions and story arc went no where and affected nothing. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to have him appear in the bookshop in the end? Solve the problem of the destroyed universe? Face God himself? Bring the find the lady card game full circle? Be the literal counterpoint to Adam and his arc in S1? On the topic of Jesus, he mentions his disciples and his mother (Mary) and Aziraphale just sadly says it’s been a long time. WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY?! They’re in Heaven, WHERE ARE THE DEAD HUMANS?! I’ve pointed this out before about how Heaven looks suspiciously empty so where do all the humans go? Looks like we’ll never know the answer.

Michael

Michael’s set up as the bad guy was obvious from the start, but why not include a set up to her feelings of being under appreciated? Actually give her motivation for feeling like she has to do everything and get no reward. Maybe a scene of Aziraphale telling her to do a bunch of stuff. Instead what we get is “Oh those silly women and their emotions.” Honestly, not surprising to have such a one dimensional character arc from the man who we now know has no respect for women.

The Metatron and the FF

So, The Metatron’s setup in S2 always seemed like there was something far more nefarious going on. The music queues, the menacing look he gives Crowley, the furtive and anxious looks Aziraphale has. Now, we just have to accept everything in that scene was at face value. He really was offering Aziraphale a job. He legitimately thought Aziraphale was the best. There was no secret threat to Crowley. And Aziraphale did just want to go back to Heaven to make a difference (remember it had nothing to do with the second coming because he finds that out in front of the elevator). There is also the small mention that The Metatron was tampering with the Book of Life. Again, probably something cut for time, but had the potential for something far more meaningful. His story arc instead is meaningless and becomes just part of the plot line to create a mystery. Also, when you think about it, nothing in S2 was necessary to get us to S3. Except maybe to explain why Gabriel wasn’t there, and to have a reason that Crowley is angry and Aziraphale is in heaven. So why on earth bother with S2? *cough NG cash grab cough*.

Crowley having no miracles

What was the point other than the side quest to get the Bentley back. Which frankly was fun and the best part of the finale in my opinion. But when it didn’t matter at all to the plot it could have just been cut and more spent given to Aziraphale and Crowley just reuniting in a better and more fulfilling way. Crowley without miracles doesn’t seem to matter or be resolved in the end, considering the Bentley still got to space and Crowley still got them to the bookshop using the burning book of life page.

Did the writers even watch S2? Or S1 for that matter? Or even read the book?

When I first heard who the writers were I did a bit of a deep dive into their writing credits and history. When fantasy horror was all that came up and no proof at all that they were a fan or even spoke of Pratchett’s work, alarm bells started ringing. But I didn’t want to bring everyone’s moods down as a lot of angst around whether the finale would be any good was being thrown around at the time. So I kept my fears to myself.

But when the writers seemed to miss key elements of what made S1 and parts of S2 great and special (companion of owls and the resurrectionists specifically) it honestly felt like they didn’t bother to do any research at all. For example:

Adam is convinced in the end of S1 that the world is worth fighting for. That he doesn’t need to make it new even though the voices keep telling him. That it’s up to the humans to make it right. So how can you reconcile that with Crowley saying we need to just start again? It makes no sense.

Crowley drunkenly berates Wee Morag for wanting to commit suicide “No dying. No more dying. No trying to kill yourself, it’s wrong!” So why the FUCK does he decide complete annihilation is the answer?!

The entire Job minisode is devoted to explaining why Job and Sitis don’t want new children, they want their own children because they love them. Why on earth would the writers think Human Crowley and Aziraphale would be at all satisfying?

And for that matter, the entire S2 storyline with Jimbriel tells us that Jim is not Gabriel because he doesn’t have his memories and experiences. So how can you expect the fandom to accept Anthony and Asa are just a reincarnated versions of Crowley and Aziraphale when the lore you set up in your own show contradicts otherwise!

Plot lines that were added which makes no sense:

In the great war prologue Aziraphale is seen as this great general and leader. A master strategist. Why not have anything to do with him being a great strategist included in the rest of the plot then? Why do the angels later think him an incompetent idiot when they had so much praise for him (which has been established since S1)? Where did he lose their faith and gain such distain? Are we supposed to infer it is merely from being on earth?

Also was this Great War scene just a way to establish why Crowley doesn’t fear to approach Aziraphale on the Wall of Eden in S1? Because Aziraphale was kind to him and therefore he can trust him? You know we didn’t need that right?

Crowley’s knowledge of the book of life. How does Crowley go from “that was just a story to scare the cherubs” to “tampering with it sends you crazy” and “can’t be destroyed, it’s too well made”. How does KNOW all of this?

Why didn’t Michael just erase Aziraphale from the book of life to begin with? (Pitch Meeting Guy voice: so the movie can happen!)

Missed opportunities:

Aziraphale seemed to be in over his head in Heaven, it seemed like Sandalphon was about to start some kind of coup. So why did Michael not work with him? Why erase him? Did she just want to get the competition out of the way first? Why bring Sandalphon back at all when again he served no purpose to the story, except to be erased.

As much as I love Crowley’s heaven outfit (I will get down on my knees and worship that outfit), there was no reason for him to be dressed like that. He wasn’t in disguise, Saraqael saw him immediately and objected to his presence. Crowley also is still supposed to be without miracles at this point, so it’s implied it’s all Aziraphale. So damn well focus on that! Put some quick banter in there, maybe about how tight Crowley’s trousers are and Aziraphale just raises his eyebrows and turns away to smirk (perhaps it was lost to the cutting room floor, but I needed flirting and closeness between them, and these sacrificed moments were too much to lose).

Give us more of Asa and Anthony if you wanted us to care about them. A montage of dates, kissing in the rain, seeing one of them propose, sitting in a park having a picnic, a brief glimpse of their wedding day, dancing in the living room of their cottage, sweet soft moments of affection. Something! A 30 second montage would have been all that we needed. Instead we’re left with a semi platonic hand hold and some lovely music. I get that that is sweet and wonderful, but as I said in my previous post, the fandom has been fucking reeling for almost 3 years. We needed healing and proper visible on screen queer representation. This would have helped sway the anger and disappointment!

Character Assassinations:

Aziraphale. Just, everything. Leaving Crowley in the ally. Not actually apologising. That whole “you’re the best angel” bit (god damn it accept him for the demon his is you maniac!) I rest my case. I don’t enjoy at all how he was written this season, and it just shows the writers had no clue how to fix that or understand who he was a character.

Circling back to NG

When he was on Tumblr, NG would try to convince us constantly that there was going to be a happy ending.

The post where someone asked why and he said the answer was Love. The post where he was asked what his favourite line from S2 was and he answered the invisible line that connects Crowley and Aziraphale. That the ending was set and was what Terry wanted. The years of speaking about a cottage where Crowley and Aziraphale were retired. Telling us to trust the process. He said this for a year after S2 before he abandoned social media. Rachel Talalay said it in her Blueksy post there was never any kiss scripted for the finale. NG always intended to never resolve the heartbreak of S2. For S3 he sets up Crowley as broken, depressed, sick of life, and then has Crowley suggest at the end to just accept the end of the universe. Start again, make it new, but not with him in it. And we’re meant to accept this as somehow noble? What kind of a fucking message is that?! NG always saw himself in Crowley and I think this incredibly broken man is frankly telling on himself here. And he used our comfort show to do it. I still can’t get over how incredibly angry I am with this man. For everything he did to those women and everything he did to this fandom.

This season was full of plotholes, contradictions, and non-sensical out of character actions, and they cannot all be blamed on the cutting down of 6 hours to 98 minutes, but can be laid at the feet of a broken man who sadistically took pleasure in the pain and suffering in others.

And the most upsetting thing of all is the inability of fandom to now continue writing in canon universe stories for Crowley and Aziraphale. They are dead and gone, unless we can think of a way to bring them back. What point is there to write of Asa and Anthony when there was already thousands of human AU stories out there. And also we know so little of their characters and how they lived in this world that it’s hard to write anything for them (full props to all the fanfic writers out there who have managed it so far. Please don’t let me discourage you).

I think this is why I’ve struggled to continue writing my WIPs, even though I am getting there, but it worries me that people will see this end as a way to just stop participating in the fandom. And I can’t help but feel that maybe NG was playing a long game with us all along, that this was his endgame. He initially hated the shipping of Crowley and Aziraphale and then years later leaned into it when it meant financial gain. And now that he can’t have these characters anymore, neither can anyone else.

I realise that this is quite a dark and heartbreaking conclusion to end on. So I will say to everyone out there, keep creating, keep writing, keep making art, keep making friends in this wonderful fandom. You don’t need to take anything in S2 or S3 seriously if you don’t want to. You don’t need to accept it as canon if you don’t want to.

“Torres? What are you doing here?” you frown, confused by his sudden visit, the last time you saw him being months ago in New York.

“Still not following the news, huh?” Joaquin lightly jested, but his smile was forced. When you didn’t retort, Joaquin sighed, his mask of calm slipping. He murmured, then, with a worried frown. “It’s Bucky.”

“Where’s he?”

Joaquin answered dutifully. “Yelena is bringing him in, I was closer so came to find you.”

“You guys have a huge medical team in the compound..Why here?” You frowned, noticing his civilian clothes, it was obvious what the trio were doing was something off the record. 

“But they don’t have you.” He shrugged, like it was obvious. 

“Torres…” Closing your eyes, you pinched your nose, exasperated. “I'm not part of this life anymore, the team promised.”

“I know and I'm sorry, but- he’s been calling your name. It's bad.”

Before you could even question him further, a black car appeared at high speed, its tires burning on the asphalt as it stopped abruptly. The driver's side door opened rather violently, Yelena got out of the car and ran towards you.

“They injected him with something purple and then he started behaving like he wasn't super anymore? He got shot in the head, arm and chest. Barely stopped the bleeding.” Her voice trembled and her hands shook, completely panicked.

You felt your heart drop with dread, if they injected a blocking serum, he was still alive with sheer stubbornness. As if sensing your nervousness, Jack Abbot appeared with Parker and a stretcher. Nodding towards Yelena and Joaquin before going to the car, Abbot was all business. With his and Parker help, you got Bucky into the stretcher. He was a completely mess of blood and grime.

“Doc, is this the Winter Soldier?” Parker whispered, her eyes flicking towards Bucky’s arm. “What’s going on?”

“Shot in the head, arm and chest. He needs a transfusion before any procedure and I’m his only blood type.” You said as an answer, eyes firm on Abbot.

Abbot nodded. “You heard her, go ahead and start preparing for trauma one.”

Parker didn't need to be told twice. Leaving you and Abbot to move the stretcher together, Yelena hot on your heels.

“Joaquin, take that damn car off there before coming inside!” you ordered without looking behind, hearing a confident ‘yes, boss’ from him.

Once you touched the Pitt floor again, everything became a blur. You gave orders that Abbot had to reinforce, everyone surprised with your odd behavior and seeing Abbot prepare himself the blood transfusion. He was your partner in crime right there, even when you muttered to give a quickly big quantity and pleaded with him to trust you. So he did, against everything he knew. Because if THE Winter Soldier needed your blood, of course it wasn't a simple explanation. 

It took one hour before they could start working on Bucky’s wounds, but by then they noticed some minor scratches already gone. Your blood. Abbot couldn't stop thinking about it. He worked with you by his side and the team, but he couldn't stop trying to find a connection with those facts.

When they finally finished, Abbot graciously offered to take Bucky to one of the empty rooms and keep him under observation. But the worst wasn't over, judging by Yelena's worried look as she waited for you in the hallway.

“He's here, came with Sam. Thought to give you a heads up.” the former assassin said smoothly, then she sighed. “He's such an idiot.”

You took a deep breath, “Thank you, sweetheart. Let's get over with this shit show.”

Stepping inside the family room was like going back in time, a sense of a terrible deja vu or just a nightmare. Waiting for her and Yelena was Sam, Joaquin and Steve. But before you could even say hello, the voice of the pretentious voice of the man you detested hissed, filled with rage.

“What are you doing here?” Older Steve frowned.

“I work here, you moron.” you retort without missing a beat.

You were never a fan of Steve Rogers, but because of your job you made an effort to offer him a meager amount of respect and patience, which evaporated after the stupid fight over the Sokovia Accords. The events that followed only cemented the disgust of having to put up with his presence. But for Bucky, once again, you’d bite the bullet and be professional. He couldn’t get even worse than before.

“I'm taking him to the compound, I talked with Bruce, they're already waiting for-”

Sam chimed in, “He can't leave right now-” 

“He needs the best treatment and it's not here!” Steve's voice bummed in the room.

“Bucky’s not leaving without the doctor's approval.” Yelena hissed, arms crossed.

“He's not stable enough, Rogers.” you stated as calmly as you could, but your hands were starting to shake again.

Steve kept going with his harsh words. “Is this some kind of power play? Retaliation?”

“Are you serious right now?” You and Sam exclaimed at the same time.

“I'm taking him with me.” Steve declared.

“Like hell you're gonna take him!” You finally snapped, pointing accusingly in Steve's direction. “You selfish fucker, he’s a human being not your toy!”

Steve stood up, taking a feel steps towards you, his voice boomed. “What did you say?”

“I said: stop treating Bucky like a toy you only remember when you feel like a damn loser!” You retorted, not being intimidated by his aggressive behavior. 

Sam and Joaquin stood up too when they noticed Steve taking another step closer, Sam came closer so he could stand between you two while Joaquin eyed the situation surprised. Yelena stayed by the door, waiting unimpressed by the former captain behavior.

The argument could be heard from outside, and Jack, who was approaching, didn't linger long in the hallway. Jack couldn't shake the feeling that he was intruding, but he didn't really care, not if the situation was escalating so quickly. So he entered the room with confidence. Fuck it if the man he needed to tell off is the former Captain America. No one would disrespect you under his watch.

“Hey, what’s going on here?”

Hearing his voice, you teared your gaze from Steve to look at him. Your shoulders fell, and you sighed in exhaustion. Glancing for a brief moment at Sam, Yelena and Joaquin, you stated. “I can't do this. It's always the same shit.”

You turned on your heel and stormed out. Jack was quickly to follow you, closing the family room's door without looking back. The Avengers didn't matter to him. You would always be his priority. So he kept walking, shadowing your steps a few paces away. You both ended at the stairwell. 

Your hands were shaking.

For the first time since you started working there. Jack knows it because he was always impressed by how well you worked under pressure and adrenaline. Firms hands. Firm voice. Firm face. You became the lighthouse in the rough ocean of the ER. But right in that moment, hidden in the blind spot of the stairs, you were far from the person you usually were.

It scared the shit out of him.

For a moment, Jack just stood there. Close, but respectful of your boundaries. Standing guard, waiting a sign that you needed something more than just his presence.

"I can't go back there now," you declared with a trembling voice, face still hidden towards the wall.

"Then don't. Everyone at this ER will do anything to help with whatever you need," Jack softly said without missing a bit. "Including myself."

You turned sharply, surprised glossy eyes staring at him. And then, allowing him to see you at your most vulnerable, you murmured a weak, "Jack."

He had no idea who moved first, but the next thing he knew, you were kissing him.

You melted against him when he pulled you closer with an arm around your waist. His fingers wrapped in your hair, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss for a brief moment. Delicate and softly, no rush or desperation, sealing the connection that had been building all this time.

Breaking the kiss, Jack rested his forehead against yours, taking a deep breath to clear his thoughts. A sigh scaped your lips as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. When you opened your eyes, Jack offered a soft smile.

"I got you."

Three little words you were used to hear him say during the night shift hours. But now it felt more intimate.

A promise.

Thank you for reading and supporting my writing 💜 Let me know what you think! Comments, likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated!

There's no taglist, but you can follow this story (and the other crossovers) through the tag #avenger!reader x the pitt!

Author's note: Older!Steve Rogers is a bit inspired by mcu and comics! Here in this universe almost everything happened as the mcu timeline, but with some little changes one of them is that Steve goes to the past and them comes back and he stays like an unsolicited friend or a retiree who doesn't want to leave work(?) He's away of the spotlights and all that, but he's still there some how. Reader decides to leave when Bucky starts his political career. I'll dive a little bit next chapter Bucky and reader relationship and her Avengers days! Hope you guys keep enjoying this crazy crossover 🥰

Jack arrived at your door promptly at 7:30 in the morning, and you were thankful you had the day off. You weren’t sure how you would have found a private moment otherwise in the hallways of the hospital.

He came with breakfast and coffee, with that look you were slowly learning to read: longing.

When he placed the bag of food on the counter, along with the two cups of coffee — one shockingly sweet and the other unfathomably bitter — his hands found you immediately after. His fingers dug into your hips and pulled you flush against him.

Staring into your eyes, you felt like his body was coiled tightly in restraint, stuck between bracing for a hit and holding himself back. You held your hand to his chest and waited, hoping he might find the words.

“I don’t want you to look back on this in ten years and—”

“I won’t.” You said, so definitively, watching him with wide doe eyes.

His eyebrows furrowed and he struggled, “You’re young, and I’ve got a fuckin’ mess of skeletons in my closet—”

“And if I wanted you anyway?”

His eyes snapped to yours, his grip tightening. The air was thick, and at the sight of his darkening eyes, it seemed like he had struck a match in your stomach. His silence lingered.

“I like this.” You said, like it was a secret. Perhaps it still was, but now you had a craving for it to be real. To be revealed.

His grip on your tightened, eyes flicking between yours, studying you. All sharp edges and vice; you wanted him to devour you.

“I want you, Jack.” You whispered, your fingers tightening on the hem of his scrubs, looking down at your hands. “I’m just waiting for you to want me back.”

He curled a finger under your chin and forced you to look him in the eyes. “That’s what you think? That I don’t want you?”

You nodded absently, holding his gaze, heart thumping wildly inside your chest. You hoped your ribcage would contain it. His eye contact was sending a buzz throughout your system — heavy and close and so scarily intimate — like an exposed livewire thrumming just beneath your skin.

“You keep pushing me away whenever I get close.”

“I’ve been trying to spare you. I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing. I don’t want this to be some big mistake for you. I don’t want you to look back and think you fucked up, giving your attention to some guy nearly twice your age, and I think you might.” He paused, though never broke eye contact, “It’s not a lack of want, sweetheart, it’s the overwhelming urge of it. I just don’t want to dive into the deep end before you know what you’re doing.”

His words, whispered huskily to you, went straight to your core and all your desire for him bubbled over, like a pot of water left boiling too long.

“I know what I’m doing. I have since we started…whatever this is.” You said, eyes looking over his face. “I don’t want to live in fear of what could be, or what I could think in ten, twenty years. I’m an adult and I trust myself to know what I want. Right here. Right now.”

“Then say it again. Mean it. Say it again and I’m yours.”

You were glad you were flush against his chest, back against the kitchen counter, otherwise your knees might have buckled. It was a new feeling — a rush of emotion flooding through you to be wanted so completely, so carnally.

You knew what the words would mean. It was more than a simple string of words, it would be a declaration of a promise. A promise you had every intention of keeping.

“Jack, I want you.” You breathed out, hoping the intensity of your gaze would give away how serious you were about those words.

His lips were on yours, rough and hungry, hand on your jaw moving to the back of your head to hold you close. A small noise of surprise echoed in the back of your throat, and you had to remind yourself to breathe. He was not gentle and you did not want him to be, finally letting go of all the restraint you had tried to hold onto waiting for this…waiting for him.

Your top rode up just enough to where Jack’s hands met the skin on your hip, and it sent your heart into a race. You gripped his shirt and held him to you, needing something to steady you, your thoughts in a frenzy.

Jack’s hands were everywhere, clouding your mind with the feeling of his skin on yours. Tight on your hips, lingering over your thighs before gripping them hard, kneading at your ass before moving up to caress over your stomach. The smell of him — something warm and woodsy — mixed with the feel of him made you dizzy. The moment was quickly barrelling further than you had gone with him in the past, and it felt like something finally clicked into place.

You unraveled, attempting to mold yourself to him, clinging tightly so he couldn’t slip away. Tongues met and he tasted like desire made flesh, moving in a synchronized dance you had never learned, but with him, did not need to. It felt effortless, swallowing his breath and heat, and you begged for it to consume you.

“Bedroom.” You murmured, soft and urgent.

He hummed, low and irresistible, rumbling equally through your chest.

You stayed tangled while you made your way to your bedroom, Jack’s hands never leaving your skin. You pulled at his top and he quickly discarded it to the floor of your room, your hands eagerly taking in the new canvas of skin. Hard muscle dappled with freckles, a soft pink scar just below his collarbone and another near his navel met your gaze. He only let you marvel for a moment before his lips were back on you.

Once on your bed, you pulled off your shirt and did not watch where it landed, while Jack helped you with your pants. Deliberate and rushed, but no less caring. He hovered over you, attaching his mouth to your throat, his tongue licking at your pulse point. His scruff scratched at your skin as he moved, making you moan.

“We can stop here—”

“No.” You protested, “Please.”

He smirked, all knowing and eyes all heat. A shiver ran down your spine, pooling in your abdomen. You pulled him back down to meet your lips in a searing kiss and unfiltered lust invaded your senses.

Jack was quick to remove his pants before crawling on top of you, kissing up your body. You moved your hips up in search of friction, hoping he might have mercy on you. One hand gripped your hip and held it down while his lips kept exploring your skin.

You let out a tiny whine, “Jack.”

“You say my name like that again, and I won’t be able to control myself.” He said, wolfish and raw.

You met his gaze, clouded with the hazy desire running wild through your system, “Then don’t.”

He was only you again, pulling at your underwear until they were off. His fingers met the wet heat between your legs and he cursed, low and devine, before moving them through your folds. He paused long enough for you to know why.

You reached for your end table, and Jack moved over you to pull a condom from the drawer. He sat back long enough to put it on, quick and precise and not leaving you to want long.

His mouth met your breast, sucking on the nipple until you let out a breathless moan. You gripped his shoulders, knowing you would likely leave behind crescent shaped indents of your nails, but you had no room to care. Your hips moved back up, and you felt the heavy weight of his cock, eliciting a whimper.

He gripped your waist again and pushed your hips back down. You whined again, needing to know what he would feel like inside you. You felt him smirk against your skin.

You tugged at his curls, and it seemed his resolve finally snapped, finding your mouth again. He braced an arm next to your head, bringing the other to help guide himself inside you, but not before rubbing a few circles on your clit. It drove you mad.

His eyes were on yours, steady, consuming and intense.

“Please, Jack,” you said breathlessly, “Need to feel you.”

He indulged you, pushing his hips forward and allowing you to feel the stretch of him. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you tried to find purchase, gripping his shoulders, the sheets, his back. He pushed in until he was at the hilt, nestled perfectly in your tight heat, and he let out a low groan.

“Fucking Christ.”

The coil in your lower abdomen tightened and you unintentionally clenched around him. He hissed at the sensation, bringing his hips back enough to snap back to yours. The pace he set was brutal, rough without being too much, and the drag of his hips made your eyes glossy as the feeling steadily got overwhelming.

He brought the pad of his thumb between you, circling your clit until you were a moaning mess beneath him. The heat coiled through your belly, twisting impossibly tight, and you brought your legs around his hips to hold him to you. Your eyes closed tightly, trying to focus on the feeling — so full, so complete, so wrecked.

He tsked lowly, voice like velvet, “Nuh uh, eyes on me, sweetheart.”

You met his hazel eyes, eyebrows drawn in, “Feels so good, oh my god.”

He kissed you, sucking on your bottom lip before dragging his teeth across it, like he was trying to commit your taste to memory. He moved his head back to look at you, taking in your wide-eyed gaze, and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

The rhythm that he fell into was steady, hard and precise. Each thrust winding that coil tighter, making you feel like you might explode, as he brushed something inside that you had never felt before. Deep and unexplored. The burning expanded through your system, licking up your insides and scorching you.

“Please…please.” You begged, eyes screwing shut again. “Jack…”

Jack bit down on the skin of your neck, sucking, before working his way up your throat and across your jaw. Each snap of his hips feeling more exhilarating than the last.

“Let me see those pretty eyes, come on, let me see.”

You moaned, trying to open your eyes so you could look at him, but the precipice of heat was growing far too strong, coiled and blistering.

“Let go for me, sweetheart, come on. I can feel how close you are.” He told you, face above you, nose nearly touching your own. “Give it to me.”

That white-hot euphoria overwhelmed your senses and sent you hurtling over the edge. You could not contain the sounds that left your mouth, delectably sinful, while you opened your eyes to look up at him. Eyebrows pulled tight, you did everything to focus on his eyes. You felt yourself clench tightly around him as he fucked you through it, the burning pulsing orgasm, and you fully surrendered under the waves of it.

His thrusts steadily grew sloppy, his breath ragged against your throat and you squeezed your legs around his hips. His features contorted with pleasure with his own climax approaching, saying soft praises in your ear.

“So good f’me, fuck.” He breathed.

You grabbed his face to pull him into a kiss, hands in his hair as you held onto him, aftershocks making you drunk on him. His kiss was wet and messy, equal parts hot and languid, before his hips stuttered and you were swallowing his low groan. The sound alone made you tighten around him again, making a stream of curses exit his mouth.

The next kiss he gave you was passionate. Like a confession translated by tongue.

You tried to control your breathing when you met his eyes, and something seized in your heart. You tried not to whine when he removed himself, laying on his back and pulling you close.

Nothing needed to be said as you laid there together. You listened to his pounding heart as his chest moved up and down with his breathing. You splayed a hand on his chest and savored him. Neither of you moved to get up.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Your smile came easily, “You can’t be rid of me that easily.”

He kissed the crown of your head, something so simple feeling scarily intimate.

You hummed, tracing a finger over his chest lazily, trying to memorize each contour, each scar to memory. You shifted, attempting to get closer, but his grip tightened.

“Not yet. I don’t want this to be over yet.”

“It’s only just begun.” You smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly on the mouth, but you stayed put. Settling your head back onto his chest, you relished in the moment, in the aftermath, in the afterglow.

With one arm wrapped around you, he drew circles onto your skin. The quiet was warm and comforting, but as your senses returned, you began to wonder what this all was. You wanted to give it a name.

“My therapist says I find comfort in the dark.”

Your breath caught, not trying to startle the moment — fearing it might flee. You waited.

“That’s why I only work nights, I think.” He swallowed, “And then you came along and made me think the daylight might not be so bad.”

You found it incredibly endearing and your cheeks heated, “And you make me think that nights can be just as good.”

He smiled.

—

After spending the majority of the weekend curled up in each other, you knew something was blooming. But you didn’t want to overwhelm it, or smother it, so you let it grow in the moments you shared. Unhurried, but not wholly uncomplicated.

You found you were glad to be back on nights, for despite how hectic they were, it had your grumpy old man. ‘Your’ sent tingles down your spine, fuzzy and electrifying.

If anyone at work noticed the shift, they didn’t say anything. How you fell into pace with each other with an effortless ease, handing him an instrument before he even asked. Or how he anticipated your needs without any words, placing a coffee in front of you midway through your shift or pulling over the crash cart before you called for it.

It was Ellis who picked up on it first, after you had coded a patient and brought them back without needing to say more than two words to Jack.

She raised an eyebrow at you, “So, you and Abbot?”

You sipped your coffee and tried to act nonchalant, typing away on your keyboard. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I really don’t.” You lied, trying to ignore the heat creeping in.

You and Jack had not really discussed what you were, not with titles at least, but neither of you were seeing anyone else. It was serious between you, with an officiality that did not need words. You both also just did not want HR sniffing around, so it went unsaid to keep it to yourselves.

Ellis huffed out a laugh, “Don’t look now, but he’s coming this way.”

You immediately turned to look behind you, but Jack was nowhere to be found.

Ellis chuckled, “Yeah, you definitely don’t know what I’m talking about.”

You scowled, but it was light, “There’s a bowel obstruction in South-10, you should go check on that.”

She frowned, “Now that’s just cruel.”

You raised an eyebrow, shooing her.

Jack walked out of one of the rooms to your right, watching Ellis walk away and stopping next to you.

“What was that about?”

You gave a shrug and you barely concealed your smirk, “Ellis seems to think there’s something going on between us.”

His eyebrows raised, but there was that crack of a smile. Your chest warmed at the sight of it.

“I wonder what gave her that impression.” But his smile was knowing.

You got back to your charting, eyes lingering on Jack’s retreating form, watching as he disappeared into Central-8.

Shen rolled over on the stool, sipping his iced coffee, “So, is there? I’ve got a Benjamin riding on it.”

—

Jack felt like there was something to say about what your relationship was — his therapist always suggested naming a feeling to take away its power. But did he want to take the power away from the feeling in his chest?

He supposed the advice was more partial to the negative feelings, but he still felt like he was failing at navigating the good ones. Frankly, it had begun to scare him — to feel something so real and raw. It had been years since his wife passed, and it had carved out a part of himself. A piece he had long forgone, never fully believing therapy would help him find it again. He was okay with that, until your light hit his face and warmed his skin. He had tried to shy away from it at first, close the curtains and shut it out.

There was a gratitude in himself for allowing it in.

Once he had a taste, it was all he craved. From pecks and longing kisses to soul-devouring make-outs and feeling you wrapped around him, he had found the thrill in finally giving in to the tide. In allowing himself to be wanted so wholly, but he still wanted to take small steps in — even though he knew he was falling in deep.

The way he desired you was bordering on primal. It messed with his head and any logical thought that told him to push you away. He didn’t want you to get cut on any of his edges, or realize your mistake when you both fell too deep. It pained him to think you could ever regret him. He really was trying to allow you in, fully, but there was the fear it would swallow up your light until there was nothing left.

On a rare night out with several other attendings, accompanied by a few residents, he watched you. The bar was not quite overpacked, but certainly lively. It was nothing fancy, simple bar stools and booths, with a pool table and dart board.

Despite being engaged in the conversation with Robby, his eyes found you, laughing with Ellis. Protective without being possessive, and certainly not just a gaze reserved for friends. Robby picked up on it immediately.

Robby sipped his beer, eyes flickering between you and Jack. “You wanna tell me about that?”

Jack looked back at him, hiding his surprise well. He schooled his expression and scoffed, “That’s not vague at all.”

“Right,” he breathed out a small laugh, raising a challenging eyebrow, “so you wouldn’t mind if I go and buy her a drink?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed into slits, taking a sip of his beer. There was a heaviness in his gaze, a challenge all their own as he grit out, “Go for it.”

Robby seemed to find what he had been looking for and grinned. “Good for you, brother. Really. You deserve to be happy.”

“Not gonna chastise me? I’m half expecting someone to call out the elephant in the room eventually.” Jack said, looking away from the man and finding you again. His age. Your age. He frowned.

“I’m sure you’ve done that to yourself already and come out on the other side. Plus, you’re both adults.” Robby shrugged.

Jack took a long swig of his drink, watching as you approached the bartender, empty drink in hand.

He watched the man come up behind you, leaning close to you, placing his own drink on the bartop. No warning and a heat collected in his chest, hot and angry, swirling together until there was a storm. He could barely blame the man, you were gorgeous — and the man seemed much closer in age to you, and a tight feeling seized his stomach, like a cold seeping in.

You weren’t looking at him, but then your face contorted in disgust when the stranger’s hands lingered and Jack was out of his seat before he knew what he was doing.

When you looked to see him approached, he treasured the way relief washed over your face at the sight of him. Jack’s hand was on the man’s shoulder and pulled him back.

“Hands to yourself.” Jack said, tone like a knife’s edge — all danger and ice.

“Whoa buddy, we’re just chatting here—” the stranger scoffed, looking back to you in disbelief. But the way you were looking at Jack had the man look back to him with eyebrows raised. “Wait, you her boyfriend or something?”

“Or something.” Jack’s anger was controlled, the quiet kind, coiled up and ready to strike when necessary.

The stranger scoffed, looking between you, “Whatever, man,”

Jack released him and set his intense gaze on him until he backed off, walking back to the table with his friends.

You had a look on your face that took Jack a second to read: eyes half lidded with a wicked grin spreading across your lips, half desire, half teasing.

“I could’ve handled that.” You told him lowly,

“Yeah, well, I did already.”

The teasing smile remained, “You jealous, Jack?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, and your eyes flickered across his face.

“You really have no reason to be.” You said earnestly, “There’s only one man here I’ve had my eye on.”

There was that feeling again, curling around his heart and squeezing, warm and comfortable.

“Can’t blame a guy for not suspecting you to be with a guy like me.”

You saw right through it, “Ruggedly handsome? Devilishly charming?”

One side of his mouth lifted a touch at the compliment. The word sat on his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“I’d appreciate it if you respected my choice enough not to doubt it at every turn.” You told him, suddenly serious. “I think I’ve made it pretty clear I don’t care for the age thing, or the skeletons in your closet. Some random at a bar doesn’t change anything.”

He cleared his throat, “You’re right.”

A smile quickly turned into a smirk, “I know.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

You hummed, “Please.”

You ordered another drink, brushing your hand along his arm.

“You know, despite it all, I still found that kinda hot.” You whispered, leaning towards him, edging far too close for sultry in front of all your co-workers.

Though, if his open display just a few minutes prior had not clued them in on the budding relationship, your bedroom eyes would surely not faze them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shen and Ellis exchange a few bills.

He sipped his new beer, raising an eyebrow, “That right?”

The smile you gave him should have been a sin.

[ Next ]

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