#after all that prep and paperwork the whole damn thing could have been a phone call

[hoochieblues]

Not exactly ~aesthetic~ bc my phone camera still sucks, but periodically I have the british experience of having to go do something mundane in a pretty and moderately old building. Also, St. Piran's flag in the wild! bennigys re bo the tinners' saint and all that.

[drariellevalentine]

This Is Me Trying- pt.2

Hey everyone! Hope you’re having a beautiful day! Sorry this took so long, I have exams going on currently. Here’s part 2 and here’s to hoping y’all won’t kill me for this.

If you haven’t read part 1, click here for the link!

Pairing:- Ethan Ramsey x Arielle Valentine

Characters:- Ethan Ramsey, Arielle Valentine, Harper Emery, Sienna Trinh, Elijah Greene, Naveen Banerji, Jackie Varma and Bryce Lahela

Warnings:- Angst, Swearing

Inspiration:- This Is Me Trying and the rest of the Folklore album by Taylor Swift

Harper’s PoV:-

Thirty minutes later, you stand in Naveen’s office, his face completely torn and yours betraying the slightest of sadness.

“Naveen?” He turns to look at you. You shoot him a look.

“I thought they would be fine, and now look how it’s turned out. They both have been arguing every single time and now Arielle’s…”

“She hasn’t transferred her residency yet, at least officially. I’m sure Ethan would have talked her out of it.” Naveen looks at you.

“Yes?”

“Nothing…” You raise an eyebrow. “Well, I mean you dated him…”, he trails off. You laugh.

“I wouldn’t call it dating, we would occasionally have dinner and sleep together, that’s it. Have you seen the way he looks at her?” You chuckle. “He’s like a completely different version of himself, a better version.”

Naveen smiles. “Well I’m happy to hear that, I was about to head out for a quick

coffee, join me?”

“Of course, I’d like to.” You both head out and have a coffee and a quick bite of pastry.

“That pastry was quite good.”

“You should try Dr. Trinh’s treats! Her and Sunshine stop by every now and then with a box of them, they’re quite delicious!”

“Oh, I’ve heard of them alright. Dr. Lahela raves about them during many surgeries.” Just then your pager beeps. “Speaking of surgeries…” You see it’s a page from Bryce. “Where are you?! You needed to be here five minutes ago!”

Naveen sees the page. “This sounds important, let’s go.” You nod and rush back to the hospital.

Bryce’s PoV:-

You’re just coming out from an OR when you spot him.

“Dr. Ramsey!” He looks around and winces as he spots you.

“Yes? Make it quick, I have urgent matters to attend to.”

“You mean Elle. She just sent me a text saying I’m transferring my residency back to New York. I was about to look for her but an emergency lobectomy came in and Dr. Emery was on break.”

“Well um yes, we sort of had a argument which got a bit out of hand.”

“ Go talk to her. Oh! And apologise! I’m sure everything’s alright, besides we all know she makes impulsive desicions sometimes.”, you say.

“...it wasn’t an impulsive desicion, Arielle’s signed all the damn paperwork.” Your eyes widen as you spot a head with the familiar balayage heading towards the atrium.

“There she is! Go, fast!” Ethan doesn’t give you a second glance as he runs after her. You shake your head with a slight smirk. “She’s got him wrapped around her finger.”

“Bryce! Did she tell you?!” You turn to see the whole gang in tow.

“By text. Turns out the old couple had an argument, the old man told me himself. He’s gone to make things right.”

“Oh he better apologise, he’s been treating her like some random person and if he doesn’t I will-“

“Woah, woah, woah. Cool your jets, Jackie.”

“I don’t know, Bryce. Jackie’s right. I’m worried that she’ll go back to New York, I saw her looking at the website a few days ago but I didn’t think it meant anything.”

“Did you see where they went?”, Elijah asks.

“Yeah, they were heading towards the atrium but”- Suddenly you hear a deafening crash sound.

“Oh my god, that sounded like”-

“It came from the atrium.”, Jackie finishes Sienna’s sentence. You all rush towards the atrium to find smoke pouring out of the central elevator, a huge crowd gathered by it.

You notice Raf and a few other paramedics assessing the damage and other staff ask questions. You quickly go and inquire Rafael about the situation.

“Dude, what happened?”

“Not sure, Bryce. It looks like a chain snapped, the elevator crashed down and a few nurses are saying that they saw Dr. Ramsey go inside but they’re not sure if he got off. They’re checking the security footage right now.”

Your eyes widen as you realise if Ethan was inside, then Arielle could be inside too. “What’s the matter?”

“If he was there, that means she was inside too! Oh god…”

“Bryce, calm down first. Who are you talking about?”

“...Arielle. They had a fight and he was going after her.”

“Oh my god! Guys, what do we do?”, you find Sienna and everyone else.

His eyes widen. “We’ll go check the security camera ourselves. Authorities are on their way already, it’s the only thing we can do.” You all rush to the security office.

Spotting Bobby combing though the footage, you head towards him.

“Bobby, any luck?”, Raf asks.

“Not yet, I’ve checked the footage but so far nothing.”

“Oh god, what if she was in there? You guys saw the elevator…”, Elijah rambles as

Sienna’s face pales.

“Guys, don’t panic. It won’t help us until we know what exactly happened.”, Jackie says but you can see the fear evident in her eyes.

A familiar face on the screen catches your eye. “Bobby stop! Scroll a bit back. There!” You point to Ethan’s face on the monitor entering the elevator, Elle’s half clearly visible.

“This was at 3:28. Check all the other elevator entrances around that time to see if they got out.”

“9th floor! She’s getting out!”, Sienna shrieks. But the relief doesn’t last long as she steps back inside.

“That was at 3:40. The time the elevator crashed.” Everyone is shocked, not knowing what to do as Bobby announces the victims on his walkie-talkie.

You pull out your pager and page Dr. Emery. You run your hand through your hair, trying and failing miserably to calm yourself.

Harper’s PoV:-

As you enter Edenbrook, you sense something is amiss. Naveen turns to look at you, understanding. You both enter to see a huge crowd gathered near the left side of the atrium, smoke billowing from the elevator. You spot Dr. Lahela amongst the crowd and call him. He and the other residents run towards you both.

“Thank god you guys are here!”

“Dr. Lahela, tell us exactly what happened.”, Naveen says.

“We’re not exactly sure ourselves, the authorities haven’t arrived yet. But the elevator crashed down from 9 floors above...and both Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Valentine were inside.”

“...they both were inside?”, Naveen asks as pain flits across his face. Bryce nods somberly.

“I have to go. Contacting the authorities is all we can do.” Naveen walks away sadly.

“Lahela, go with him.” Bryce nods and follows him.

“Dr. Emery, does Dr. Ramsey carry his phone with him? We could try calling them to see that they’re…”, Sienna stops not being able to finish the sentence. You nod and quickly pull out your phone. The ring continues as you place it on speaker, once...twice...thrice...you’re about to end the call when the familiar baritone tone greets you.

“Hello?” Relief washes over everyone’s features

“Oh thank god, Ethan! We were so worried. How many people are inside? Is anyone hurt?”, you ask.

“No, it’s just me and Ari-“ Suddenly, Ethan’s voice cuts off.

“Ethan? Ethan?! Ethan, can you hear me?!” You hear him shouting her name. Tears form in the corners of everyone’s eyes.

“Ethan, talk to me! What happened?”

Ethan’s PoV:-

You check Arielle’s pulse and other vitals. “Damnit!”

You hear Harper and the other residents shouting. “She’s unconscious. Her pulse is low, and she’s suffered major blood loss. Her injuries are...extensive. It’s impossible for me to determine how bad they are considering the conditions.”

“Naveen’s working on it. What about you? Are you alright?”

“I’m perfectly fine. Just work on getting us out of here, we need a CT and MRI and multiple drugs to stop further bleeding as soon as possible.”, you respond with the only thought on your mind being her, it always was and always will be.

“Got it. Does your phone have enough battery?” You check it and curse.

“Only around 20%.”

“Check if Arielle has her’s.” You carefully slide your hand into her back pocket, and pull out her phone covered in blood. “It has almost 90%.”

“Okay, I’ll call you when I have an update. Call me if anything happens.” Harper ends the call, leaving you alone.

You look at her as worry and fear takes over your mind.

“Hang on there, okay? You’re going to be just fine.”, you say, unsure if you’re promising her...or assuring yourself.

You spend the next 30 minutes checking her vitals again and again and try to assess her injuries to distract yourself, not wanting to think about what-if’s.

Harper’s PoV:-

“What the hell is going on here?! It’s been 30 minutes and there's still no action taken!”, you shout as you come back from Naveen’s office. You offered to take over as Chief, knowing that both of them mean a great deal.

“We’re trying, but the elevator is wedged sideways and stuck between the first and ground floor.” You sigh.

“Have you tried prying open the doors?”, you ask.

“That’s what we’re about to do. If this works, then get everything you need and assemble on the ground floor.” You nod.

“Dr. Emery! Any progress?” You turn to the young paramedic.

“Not yet, but we’re about to.” He nods. You quickly arrange for all specialists to be on stand-by and the other surgeons who can.

Naveen comes back from his office. You lead him to the site, filling him in.

“Everything’s prepped, Dr. Emery. Can we start?”

“I’ve got most doctors on stand-by and two ICU beds prepped. Let me call them first, it’ll be better with a communication source.” He nods.

Ethan’s PoV:-

A tune cuts through the eerie silence. You accept the call.

“Any progress, Harper?”

“It’s me, my boy.” Your eyes sweat as you hear your mentor’s cracking voice.

“Naveen?”

“Yes, don’t worry, we’ve almost gotten past the securit for the elevator. Now we’ll just need to pry open the doors. You both might be slightly jerked so be careful.”

“Alright. Do it fast. She’s going to need an oxygen mask any minute.” You hold Arielle’s body closer to yours as the elevator slightly jerks. The doors are finally starting to open, the heads of Naveen, Harper and Arielle’s friends clearly visible. They gasp as their eyes spot the blood.

“Thank god. Just a little bit more, we should be able to pull them out.” Just then, you feel a hand hit your chest. Your eyes widen as it dawns on you.

“She’s having a seizure… but why?...” You quickly check her for symptoms of an ruptured blood vessel, it matches.

“Damnit! She’s having a seizure! Get me an IV injection with Activase!” You pull her even closer, holding her body. A nurse climbs up on a ladder and hands you the syringe. You swiftly inject it into her arm, your own pulse finally normalises as her petite body stops jerking, The paramedics step up and help Arielle out of the lift. She’s placed on a bed, quickly wheeled away with Harper, Bryce and more specialists in tow. Rafael helps you slide out of the small space when you realise you’ve hurt your shoulder. He notices you wincing.

“Dr. Varma, do a full checkup on Dr. Ramsey.”

“I’m fine, which OR is Arielle in? I’m scrubbing in.”, you say not bothering to use her title. You quickly get up when Naveen stops you.

“That’s the last thing you’ll be doing. Dr. Varma and Dr. Trinh will be examining you, and then you will wait like everyone else.”

“But-“

“Nothing.”, Naveen cuts you off as you wince once again. You slump in defeat as the two doctors wheel you away.

They help you sit up on an examination bed, and remove your bloodied shirt. You can see them wincing as they see the amount of blood stained. The pair doesn’t say anything as they quietly check your vitals, examine you and dress your shoulder.

“I’m assuming both of you are quite angry.”, you say not knowing what to do.

“Quite angry?! Let me tell you we’re fucking furious”-

“Jackie!”

“What?! Because of him, she almost died, Sienna! Died, do you hear me?!” You wince. “She almost died because of you! Don’t you understand?!”, she shouts jabbing a finger in your chest. “Because of your damn ethics and morals, she ALMOST DIED.” Tears glisten in her eyes.

“Do you even know how hard it was for her? Every. Single. Time when you pushed her away? Do you know how much she cried, sobbed when you ran away like a damn coward?! She was heart-broken, barely ate or slept peacefully and turned into someone else. We would all find her crying in supply closets, on-call rooms, you name it! God, she loved you so much and you, YOU”-

“Jackie, stop! That’s enough!”, the petite resident shouts, pain etched on her face.

“Do you even love her? Because she’s irrevocably in love with you and she says that you might too someday. If not, then she'll be an idiot. But do one thing, tell her fucking EXACTLY what you feel. Don’t say some half-assed sentences then go back to your stone cold self again. Tell her what she means to you, even if it was just a fucking casual hookup.”

“She was never-“

“Save it for her.” Jackie storms off.

You both stand there in silence, knowing that every word the fiery resident said was undeniably true.

“...I really fucked up, didn’t I?” The look on her face says it all. “Lord...I never meant for this to happen-“

“We all know you didn’t, Jackie’s mad, that’s all. But even if what she said was harsh, it’s true. You know how badly she’s been suffering, and I can’t watch anymore. You need to make a decision.” You watch the resident fight back a tidal wave of emotions as she replies coldly, completely unlike herself.

“I’ve dressed the wound, get someone to change it after a few hours and don’t do it yourself.” She turns around to leave, not able to look at you.

“Sienna.” Her breath hitches as she turns around. Her wall collapses, the wave of bottled-up emotions finally being freed.

“She- She almost d-died. It’s- not fair. She doesn’t deserve this, she doesn’t deserve any of this! It’s not fair, nothing’s fair! She can’t just come into our lives and just completely leave us like that! It’s not fair, it’s just not fair!”

You put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, knowing it’s the least you can do. But what you don’t expect is for her to throw her arms around you. You return the favor, both of you stay there in utter silence, not daring to speak.

Harper’s PoV:-

“Go take a break, Bryce. You’ve been on-call from last night.” You enter to see Bryce with one eye open, multiple textbooks propped up.

“I will, once I-“

“Once I nothing. You’re taking a break or else I’ll have you excluded from surgeries the whole week. We’ll update you if there’s any change in Arielle’s condition.”

He sighs, running a hand over his face. You can sense the worry.

“Bryce, Arielle went through brain surgery. You very well know all the possibilities that can take place. No matter what you do, nothing can change the outcome.”

He’s even more dejected now. “What do you think?”, he asks you. You look at him.

“I mean do you think she’ll be alright?”

“Well as a doctor, I already told you, not to mention you already know. As someone who knows her personally….I think she’s going to be alright. She’s a strong woman and she’ll pull through.”, you respond. He looks up meeting your eyes, his own eyes betraying the slightest amount of hope. He nods in an act of thanks before leaving the room. You follow him in pursuit to find Ethan. After inquiring about them to a few staff members, you find him and Dr. Trinh in the residents’ lounge.

“Ethan.” They whip around hearing your voice. Ethan opens his mouth to speak but he’s too slow.

“Dr. Emery! Is everything alright?! Did something happen? Why did she have a seizure?! Dr. Ramsey said that-“ The young resident rushes forward bombarding you with question after question.

“Sienna, calm down. Let her speak.” She finally notices she’s been rambling and smiles sheepishly.

“Oh, um... sorry Dr. Emery.”

“It’s alright. But to answer your questions, Arielle had a blood vessel rupture in her brain like Ethan said, which was most likely caused by hitting her head. That caused her brain to be deprived of blood, and the seizure. That caused an acute subdural hematoma. Luckily, the blood vessel only burst just before we got her into surgery so there wasn’t any permanent brain damage. The blood vessel was also repaired perfectly, courtesy of Dr. Lahela. The seizure was caused due to the pressure in her brain.” They nod solemnly.

“She was in a lot of pain, barely able to speak.”, Ethan responds, wincing as he relieves the memory.

“Her body was exhausted from the trauma, also most of her ribs are bruised. We did more scans to rule out other diagnoses, so far she’s clear.”

“Thank you, Harper.”

You nod. “Now both of you take some rest and meet me later. I have Dr. Varma and Dr. Greene strictly monitoring her, not to mention Naveen hovering over her.”

“I’ll just check on her and then I’ll go rest.” You sigh, knowing that you’ll lose this battle.

“Fine, Ethan. Only five minutes, then you’re going back to bed. Or else I’ll have you on bed rest for the whole week. Dr. Trinh, make sure he actually goes back to bed will you?” She smiles lightly, nodding.

Sienna’s PoV:

You stand at the entrance of Arielle’s room, as Ethan hesitates to go in. You lead him inside, both of you softly gasping at the sight. Multiple IV’s hooked up to her, her body wrapped in several casts, not to mention her head. Her usually glowing skin now lightly pale.

“Ethan!” Naveen spots him and wraps him in a tight hug, carefully of his shoulder. Jackie and Elijah are nowhere to be found.

“Ah, Dr. Trinh. How are you doing?” He unexpectedly wraps you up in one too. ”I’m...okay I guess.” He nods understandably.

“I sent Dr. Greene and Dr. Varma on a break. They looked tired and then they told me that they both were on the night shift.”

“I’ll catch up with them later. How’s she doing?” Naveen looks back, looking at her now completely unrecognisable body.

“Considering what she’s gone through, she’s doing alright. Only time will tell.” Ethan only stands there, still as a statue, staring at her. Naveen follows your gaze.

“Ethan, do you want some privacy?” He doesn’t look at him, only shakes his head.

“Alright then.”

“Dr. Ramsey, let’s go back. You need to rest.” You lead him back to his room, worries about both of them filling your mind to the brim.

Ethan’s PoV:-

Sometime later, you’re lying in bed unable to fall asleep. You decide to pay a visit to Arielle, and slowly walk to her room making sure no one sees you.

Entering her room, you see that the bed’s empty. Your mind races for an explanation when you spot her in the corner of the room. You rush over to her, pulling her in for a hug.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re alright…. Do you know how worried I was?” You pull back when you don’t hear a response. But you only see a sheepish smile on her face.

“Oh...well I didn’t know that doctors cared this much about the well-being of their patients. I must have gave you quite a scare if you’re this happy I’m okay”, she responds with a laugh.

“Don’t joke around, Arielle. You’re acting like you barely know me.”, you respond.

”Well that’s the case!”, she laughs. You look at her sternly.

“Oh, I’m extremely sorry but I really don’t remember meeting you. Was it at one of the medical conventions perhaps? My brain is foggy, and I don’t remember much of how I even got here.” Your eyes widen at her words.

“This can’t be true right? She’s obviously just deflecting about what happened before.”, your mind says. “Arielle, this isn’t the time to be joking around. Hours ago, you told me you love me and now you’re acting like you don’t know me.” With that she erupts into laughter.

“I’m sorry doctor, but I think you’ve hit your head. Besides, how can I even say that to someone I don’t even know.”, she says with a clueless smile.

“That can’t be true….this can’t be true. There’s no way...” But deep inside, you know that one of the factors is memory loss.

“No, no, no! Stop lying to me!”, you shout.

“Okay, now you’re freaking me out. Hello?! Is someone else here?”, she calls out.

“Arielle, stop. Don’t do this to me, I know I’ve hurt you innumerable times and I’m sorry but this isn’t fair.” She ignores you and keeps calling for someone else.

“Arielle, listen! You need to stop. Think! Try to remember!”, you shout.

“Let go of my hand! I’m sorry but I don’t know what to say. I’ve never met you in my entire life and you just can’t expect me to believe you!”, she shouts back. Her words are impossible to digest.

“What’s going on here?!”, Harper enters the room with a few more doctors in tow, shouting.

“Oh finally! This doctor here claims that he knows me when I haven’t even met him!” Her head whips around meeting your eyes.

“Ethan, we’ll talk later.” Just then, Arielle starts seizing again.

“Damnit! Nurse, administer another IV with tBa.”

The doctors crowd over her, attempting to stop her seizures as you stay there.

You stand there as your life crumbles before your eyes. The only person who’s out ever gave a damn about, the only person who truly understood you, got to know you, cared about you… now doesn’t even know your name.

And you know that it’s all your fault.

=======================================

Author’s Note:- Okay, I know y’all are probably livid and extremely angry at me but I’m sorry?! Part 3 will be out sometime soon... Bye for now!

Ethan x MC taglist:- @tsrookie | @starrystarrytrouble | @mysticaurathings | @caseyvalentineramsey | @alina-yol-ramsey | @openheartthot | @gryffindordaughterofathena | @binny1985 | @jasminedayz

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Love,

@drariellevalentine

[feistypaants-archived]

Between The Pipes [Chapter 4]

Rating: M Words: 2099 Pairing: Kristanna Summary: When a new owner takes over the Arendelle Ice Breakers, Kristoff isn’t sure about his future with the team. That is, until a PR nightmare throws the newest member of the media team, who also just so happens to be the daughter of the new owner, right into his arms. Kristoff and Anna can’t even stand the interviews they have to do together… how on earth are they going to fix this mess? Hockey!AU.

[Chapter Index]

Where To Read: [AO3]

Notes: so... I should have mentioned that I’m not the biggest fan of the parents, and think they were super neglectful towards Anna. That’s very much going to be reflected in this fic :^) Agnarr isn’t a very good father lololol. ANYWAY....  

Enjoy!

Anna sighed as she walked into her apartment, kicking off her heels and almost immediately undoing her bra. Oh, sweet relief. Her first day went better than expected, all things considered. She had taken notes of player names, numbers, and positions, hoping to get her best chance at remembering them all. It wouldn’t look so good if she couldn’t even remember their names. 

She padded to her small kitchen, barely enough room for a stove and fridge, and poured herself a hefty glass of wine. It may have only been three in the afternoon, but she deserved it, damn it.

Moving to the living room, she fell backwards ungracefully onto her small loveseat and took in a deep breath before sipping at her glass. 

And then promptly pissed herself off by thinking about that stupid goalie.

When he had come over to meet her, Anna had noticed the way his eyes had roamed. Noticed the way his cheeks flushed. It was easy enough to play with. So she had, and then, god damn it, she found that she wanted more than just his eyes on her.

She made the next sip a long one.

He had apologized, even if it seemed forced, and she appreciated that he owned up to it, at the very least. And then he shook her hand and she felt an actual shock course up her spine.

And then she spent the next hour watching him out of the corner of her eye, imagining that stupid large hand in her hair, around her thigh, under her skirt — 

Oh my god shut up.

One of the players had scored on him, and he skated forward, ducked low, and grabbed his teammate around the waist before hoisting him over his shoulder, the whole team laughing along. If he could lift a six-foot tall hockey player over his shoulder with ease, what the hell would he be able to do to her?

She… needed to have sex, god damn it.

But not with him.

Or maybe with him.

She really didn’t know what to think. He was an ass but god damn was he attractive.

Anna was gnawing on her lip, finger twisting in her still loose curls, mind wandering farther and farther into that forbidden place when her phone started ringing. Startled and flushed, Anna scrambled across the sofa to dig in her bag and find the offensive sound. She looked down to see her fathers’ name flashing across the screen, and she practically yelped before taking a deep breath and pressing accept.

“Hi, papa.”

“Hello, Anna. How did your first day go?”

Anna sighed and slumped further down into the couch. “It went really well, but I think they all wished the actual owner was there instead of his know-nothing daughter.”

“Oh, they’ll warm up to you, everyone does.”

Her heart pounded heavier in her chest, anxiety growing with every thump. That stung, more than she thought it would.

“... Thanks, papa.”

“Are the new players I brought in meshing well with the other men”

“I… think so.” If she was being honest, Anna didn’t really know. She wasn’t one hundred percent sure who was here in the first place and who he traded for. She heard him sigh and she clenched her phone a little tighter. “I’m sorry, I think I’ll know more after a few days.”

“Sure. Well, I’m glad it went well.”

“Me —“

“Bye, Anna. See you on Sunday.”

Her eyes fluttered, trying their best to blink away the wetness that was threatening to build up behind the lids. “Yeah, papa, bye…” 

Love you, too.

Maybe she should fuck the goalie. Just to piss him off.

Anna threw back the rest of her glass, and immediately moved to get another one.

—

The next few days were a whirlwind of paperwork, learning the ropes, and practicing the kind of things she would be covering in her interviews. During games, she’d be wandering around the Arena, doing fun events with fans - games, trivia, and other similar things to help them feel included and entertained during intermissions and downtime in play.

It sounded really fun, after all! Anna really couldn’t wait to get out there and talk with the fans. She was a little nervous that they’d see right through her, but Gerda promised her that there would be little to no hockey knowledge she would actually have to know - they’d go over anything that would come up beforehand.  

With players, however, she’d be discussing outcomes, how they were feeling, how they planned to move forward from potential bad plays and penalties.

That made Anna super nervous. She was assured that the players probably wouldn’t want to talk to her too much anyway, would just want to get back on the ice or back to the locker room, and they all knew that media didn’t always know as much about the game as they did. They’d prep her before any interviews, let the players know what she knew, and it would run smoothly, no problem.

No problem.

None… nope.

She still wanted to learn more about the game, and Sven had offered.

Anna made her way to the locker room, saddened to not see him around. It wasn’t until she ran into another player, Bryant, she thought his name was, that she was directed to the weight room, assured that Sven was in there, getting in his daily sets.

As she approached, she heard his voice and the tell-tale dropping of weights, and suddenly grew slightly embarrassed. Would he want her interrupting him? Would it annoy him? She figured he seemed nice enough, but he was a professional, and probably wouldn’t appreciate some newbie from the media team bugging him to learn the basics of the game, which she could just as easily google…

But he offered.

Taking a deep breath, Anna hiked her bag further up her arm, stepped into the doorway, head down, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist. “Hey, Sven, sorry to bother y—“

And then she made the mistake of looking up.

Standing in front of her, glistening with sweat, shirt half up his chest as he wiped at his forehead with the hem of it, was number 72, goalie extraordinaire, Kristoff Bjorgman. 

“Sorry uh,” she felt her entire face flush as her eyes took in the sight before her, hard chest, strong stomach, thin waist with a defined hipbone and Jesus Christ this was not fair. “Sven uh, you…” she hummed, reaching down to the bag on her shoulder desperate to turn her focus anywhere, anywhere but the delicious drip of sweat that had started between his pecs and was slowly making its way down down down.

“Hey, Anna!” Sven laughed, looking between the two of them. “What’s up?”

She tried to focus on him, the one who was not tormenting her with his body. Totally ignoring the smirks that had stretched on both of the mens’ faces. “Oh, god, nothing really.” She pulled out a useless piece of paper and shook her head in annoyance. “Just, um, went over what my responsibilities would be here on the media team and…”

Her eyes glanced up for just long enough to see Kristoff’s hands move to his hips, dropping his shirt, but not enough because there was still a damn piece of skin peeking out over his loose basketball shorts and Anna started backing up with a laugh.

“Well, god, you know I don’t know anything,” she bumped into a piece of equipment before startling and jumping to the side. “You said you’d be willing to teach me? I was…” and then she tripped over her own feet and rammed her back into the doorframe. Mumbling a curse under her breath, she did her best to stand tall and bite down her blush, which had spread down her chest and warmed her entire body. 

“Are you still able to help?”

Sven was snickering behind his hand, glancing up at Kristoff before turning his gaze back to Anna. “Yeah  Anna, absolutely.”

“Great!” She was definitely too perky. “That’s… that’s great, thanks so much. So we can set a time —“ Turning her head to check her surroundings first, Anna stepped backwards through the doorway. “Maybe early next week, um, okay, thanks!”

As soon as she was out of sight, Anna leaned back against the wall and sighed, blushing deeper when she heard Sven burst out laughing, a loud “I told you so!” following.

Oh Jesus fucking Christ.

—

Her father, true to his word, showed up early Sunday morning, meeting her and Coach Mattias at the rink. They gave him a tour, a quick overrun of all their plans for the season, and soon enough, he seemed elated. 

“It all sounds great. Thank you, Mattias. Anna, shall we?”

Anna glanced briefly at the coach, apologies in her eyes at the short meeting and abrupt departure of her father, before following him down the hall. “Papa, you should really meet all the guys —“

“There’s time for that, later.” He turned back to her for just a moment, frowning. “Is there anywhere decent around here for lunch?”

And soon they were driving towards the local pub, one that Anna had been frequenting in lieu of actually getting groceries for her apartment. It was delicious, but rough around the edges. Maybe that’s why she liked it so much. The complete opposite of everything in LA. 

Her father didn’t agree.

There was clear disgust on his face as they sat at a booth, and he immediately started laying out napkins as if to protect his skin from the wood of the table.

“Papa…” she groaned, rolling her eyes. “It’s clean.”

“I’m sure.”

They ordered, and sat in silence for a while as he turned to his phone, checking emails and anything else that could distract him from their first moment together in almost two weeks. 

Anna bit at her lip and picked at her nail. “So… how are things?”

He blinked up at her, frowning. “I suppose, just fine. Elsa is working closely with me, keeping an eye on new and upcoming players. We’re hoping to make it to the finals this year.”

She tried her best to give him a genuine smile. “Oh, yeah, that sounds good.” Her eyes dropped to the table, continuing to scratch nervously at her nail. “Things are good here, too,” she tried, hoping for some actual engagement. 

When he put his phone down with another sigh, Anna counted it as a win. “That’s great, Anna. Do you think you’ll like your job?”

An actual smile graced her lips before she let out a little laugh. “Oh, yeah, I think it’ll be great. Sven —“

“Sven?”

“Oh, the… the captain. Pederson?”

“Right, yes.”

“He,” she mumbled, confidence dwindling. “He’s going to teach me a bit about the game, help me actually understand what’s happening, so I don’t… you know, make a fool of myself.” Anna finished with a laugh, thankful that she could see their food coming from the corner of her eye.

“Well, yes.” He paused to thank the waitress, smiling. “That’s… good.”

Anna swallowed, hearing the hesitation in his voice.

“Yeah, and, uh…” She started pulling her silverware out of the napkin roll. “Well, I had a little problem with the goalie, at first. But I think —“

“Please don’t cause any trouble.”

She could already feel tears prickling at her eyelids. “What? He —“

“I didn’t mind you messing around with them in LA, Anna. We had no… investment to worry about.”

His face was so stoic, she couldn’t bear to look at him. 

“I do not want to —“

“Please, Anna. We can’t afford your… reckless behavior, this time.”

“I never did anything…”

Agnarr snapped at the waitress, and Anna felt her entire body tense. God, she hated when he did that. But calling her over was her father’s way of stopping the conversation. He clearly had no interest in hearing what she had to say, and suddenly Anna couldn’t wait for him to leave.

She never did anything in LA. Just a couple dates with lame guys, only one of whom was decent enough for her to even want to hook up with. And by the end of it, Anna realized that he was the most self-centered man she had ever met who only cared about getting himself off, and then she blocked his number and moved on with her life.

And quite frankly, she did not appreciate her father insinuating something different.

What a nice visit this was turning out to be.

[goddessofthundathighs]

I’ll Take Yo Man

A little college Hennessy and Erik foolishness concocted by @hearteyes-for-killmonger & myself. Based on the following prompt:

Friday. The day Hennessy had been looking forward to the whole week. Erik would be home from his most recent deployment the next day and she needed to prepare for his return. She went and got her hair done, opting for a silk press to her usually springy curls. She followed that up with a well deserved pedicure and a full-set of stiletto dick grabbers, both in his favorite color on her: sunflower yellow. She was now perusing the shelves of MAC, looking to restock her dwindling supply of Snob and Saint Germain lippies and her prep + prime lip primer. The freshly cleaned diamonds in the Cuban link necklace Erik gifted her twinkled under the light of the store, attracting the attention of the young woman working. She was about 5’9, 150 pounds wet with what looked to be a 24-inch body wave weave with a lifting frontal and lipstick that clashed with her undertones. Cute, but not Hennessy. She looked Henny up and down with familiarity before her eyes finally landed on the letter E tattoo that rested on her collarbone.

“Oh, you must be the new freak of the week?”

“Excuse me?” Hennessy asked with a raised eyebrow. Erik was popular, so it was no surprise that the whole state of Massachusetts knew that he was officially off the market.

“I know that Cuban, he gave me one like it when we were fucking around. Erik?”

“Who are you?” The name tag on her chest read Brittani, but it should’ve said Bold Bitch, seeing as how she was questioning Henny like she was Erik’s mother.

“I’m Brittani. Erik and I fucked around on the regular up until about a year ago.”

Hennessy smiled as Brittani spoke, remembering the day that he stumbled on her doorstep.

"And you still on him? Baby, move on." This caused Brittani to give her the most menacing look.

“Funny, you’re bigger than his usual type.”

Oh, you one of them bitches. Salty as the everlasting fuck that a thicc bitch took the nigga you wanted.

“Any particular reason why you’re divulging this information? I’m just tryna buy some lipstick not hear your dating history.”

Brittani smirked, snatching the items from Hennessy’s hands and ringing them up aggressively.

"History tends to repeat itself. I could take your man. Easily! Look at me and look at you.”

Hennessy laughed loudly then, completely disregarding the Great Value Cyn Santana. Having been officially dating the soon-to-be King of Wakanda for a year now, she was used to slimmer, Instagram-esque women feeling loose at the lips when it came to her boyfriend. At face value, Erik was the total package. He was incredibly smart, handsome, and his sex could convert even the most devout nun. But the real Erik, the fragile lost boy who had discovered his father’s lifeless body when he was only a young boy, that was a completely different story. The real Erik was moody, mean, and when he was in Killmonger-mode, a vengeful shell of a man that cared about nobody else’s feelings but his own. It had taken some time, but Hennessy had skillfully and meticulously broken down some of the rougher areas of his psyche and had learned things about him that no one else would dream of knowing. In him, she'd found a kindred spirit. A twin flame. They had bonded over their love for marijuana and their need to escape the realities of their tragic childhoods. She'd seen him at his weakest, his ugliest, and his most tragic. They'd butt heads and found homeostasis more times in a month than most couples even saw each other. She knew no one else could handle the man she called hers and she’d be lying if she said the idea of someone trying was not comical.

“I'll tell you what. You can have him, but I guarantee after 24 hours you’ll give him back.”

“Shiiid. I know what that dick is like and I swore that if I ever got it again, I’d never let him go.”

Hennessy laughed harder as the young woman slid the bag of purchased items across the counter.

“I’ll give you 24 hours. Any longer and you're stuck with him.”

“Deal.”

-------------------------------------------

“You really out here tryna pimp a nigga, huh?” Erik asked from his place between Hennessy's legs. After having successfully broken her back on every surface of their shared apartment since he stepped foot in the door the previous day, Erik was now lazily resting on Hennessy’s belly while she massaged through his dreads. He had missed the way her plush body melted into his, much like the memory foam mattress they were currently lounging on. He loved the way their bodies fit together, like Bast had created her just for him. She was his personal Sour Patch kid, sweet and sour depending on her mood, but always soft.

“It’s only pimping if we're getting paid. Lil’ Mama said she could take you from me, so I told her she could have you. You and I both know you’ll be back.”

“You damn right. You’re my favorite brown liquor and plus, I can’t leave my Creole lady for too long. What you gonna do while I’m gone?”

Um, party? She thought to herself.

“Relax,” she said instead. Though there were experiments that needed to be done, she was going to use the day for some much needed self-care. Her hair had long since sweated out from its silky state, so she planned to wash and twist it, exfoliate and shave, and binge watch all the shows she’d missed during the week.

“You relaxed while I was gone, ma,” he pouted as he snuggled closer to her.

“No, I worked while you were gone. You know I have to keep busy so I don’t miss ya fat head ass so much.”

“You love my fat head though, boffum,” he teased as he ran his fingertips up her thighs.

“You’re disgusting,” she sneered.

“Filthy,” he called back, dipping his fingers between her thighs, drawing a soft mewl from her.

“Again?” she pouted.

“I missed my baby,” he growled before his tongue met her folds.

Here we go again.

-----------------------------------------

Erik watched Brittani's back, unimpressed by her lack of food and general unpreparedness. Hadn't she heard that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach? She sat a bowl in front of him and stuck a spoon in it like she was done.

“Bruh. What the fuck is this? I asked for shrimp and grits, not oatmeal,” Killmonger fussed from his seat at Brittani’s counter. He had been in one of his moods ever since he came over, mentally noting to curse his girlfriend out for subjecting him to such torture, and now she was trying to kill him. Immediately he began to remember why he cut Brittani off in the first place. She was cute, but that was all she had going for herself. She couldn’t cook, she wouldn’t clean, and she was always in his business and trying to go through his phone. If she wasn’t trying to force herself onto his dick then she was whining about wanting him to take her shopping and show her off, though she wasn’t much of a trophy. She couldn't even keep her wig under control. He could see the screen door material sitting on top of her forehead. Henny always put makeup on hers. He could see her in the mirror now, doing that goofy ass dance she did whenever she got a new wig, patting and parting to make sure it looked good. He looked down at his watch. 16 more hours to go. This was finna be a long day.

“That is shrimp and grits, babe. I followed the recipe and everything.” Hennessy didn’t need a recipe.

“My name is Erik,” he reminded her as he tried to lift the spoon from the bowl. “Call me babe again and I’ll slit ya throat,” he threatened, mostly serious. “Why the grits so thick? Did you devein the shrimp? Is this a shell?!” His appetite quickly diminished when he spotted a creature the size of his thumb crawl across the stovetop.

“SHIT…. I’m going to the gym,” he snarled dusting himself, suddenly paranoid.

You love me especially gentle every time // You keep me on my feet happily excited // By your cologne, your hands, your smile, your intelligence // You woo me, you court me, you tease me, you please me // You school me, give me some things to think about // Ignite me, you invite me, you co-write me, you love me, you like me // You incite me to chorus, ooh

Back at their apartment, Henny was soaking in a vanilla lavender bath while her curls deep conditioned under her large pink bonnet. Jill Scott serenaded her while the warm water soothed her aching muscles, an indication of the previous night’s activities. Her music was interrupted by her ringtone.

“Miss me already, Daddy?” she teased, putting the phone on speaker so she could finish her bath.

“This bitch got bugs bigger than me crawling around her shit. Them bitches benching 350. I’m not sleeping there tonight for them niggas to jump me in my sleep.. and I’ma beat ya ass when I get home,” he fussed, still dusting himself occasionally as he drove.

“Aww, baby it can’t be that bad,” Hennessy tried.

“She needed a recipe for shrimp and grits. Who the fuck needs a recipe for shrimp and grits?! It’s in the fuckin’ title! Damn shrimp still had shells on ‘em, the grits was hard as a fuckin’ brick… it was just a mess. Then Craig the Cockroach or whatever the fuck it was came crawling across the stove like he was lookin’ for a plate too. I had to go.”

Hennessy was a giggling mess as Erik explained his morning ordeal.

“Didn’t y’all use to fuck around? You ain’t know she had roaches?”

“I used to fuck that bitch in her driveway cuz she lived with her mama. I had no idea what the inside of that place looked like.”

“You was a dirty dick ass nigga, huh? Just sticking it in anything warm.”

“First of all, fuck you. Second of all, I’m aware of the error of my past judgement, but this is NOT the time to be making jokes. I’m distraught and you laughing. If I die in there, it’s your fault.”

“I mean, according to ya military paperwork I’m ya wife, so I’ll get a nice check.”

“Wooooooow, it really be ya own people. Just for that I’m going in ya ass with no lube tomorrow.”

“Wait, I take it back. I’m sorry. If you wanna come back sooner, handle her. Make it so she knows you're mine or help her move on. One or the other.”

“BET.” With that, the line went dead and Hennessy already knew which option he chose. She had basically given Killmonger permission to hurt this young lady’s feelings, and boy did he intend to do just that.

-----------------------------------------

Hennessy was mid happy baby pose when her phone rang again, this time with an unfamiliar number. She cleared her throat and pulled out the French, just in case it was a bill collector or one of Erik’s more shady acquaintances.

“Bonjour, Aurélie.” She was met with the sound of soft sniffles, followed by her boyfriend’s voice roaring in the background.

“The fuck you crying for? You knew what that shit looked like when you woke up this morning. Didn’t even try to run a brush through it. That ain’t what Beyoncé meant when she said she woke up like this.”

“Please come get this nigga,” Brittani said between sniffles. She had had it. Ever since Erik had returned from the gym he had been tearing into her. Hennessy knew it would happen and she almost felt bad for releasing the beast. Almost.

"I would’ve kissed you good morning just to be nice but I went through your bathroom cabinets and you ain't got no mouthwash. Your toothbrush look like it was originally owned by George Washington and your breath smells like halitosis personified. And don’t get me started on Craig the Cockroach. That nigga probably twerked his ass all over your lips and your tongue the way you were snoring. Why you sleep with your mouth open when you got roaches?”

“That’s actually a valid question. That can’t be healthy,” Henny finally spoke up.

“That nigga Craig pay rent or is he like Bruhman from the fif flo? This his house, huh? You just his pet human.”

“Nigga!” Hennessy exclaimed through the phone. She had been successful at keeping her laughs at bay, but was done when he called her the roach’s pet human.

“I can’t do this anymore, you can have him back.”

“It’s only been 9 hours, sis. I thought you said you’d never let that dick go.”

"So now you don't wanna be with me because I'm telling yo triflin’ ass the truth? And who said she was getting dick?! Nah, you ain’t about to put no voodoo curses on me for sticking my dick in the Men In Black bug. I try to bust a nut and my shit just fall off. Hell nah.”

“Just get ya shit and go, nigga. Shamu can have you.” Time seemed to stop once those words left her lips. Even Craig the Cockroach disappeared. It was one thing to disrespect him, but his woman? All bets were off when it came to her and Brittani was about to learn this the hard way. With deadly stealth Erik zipped from across the room to right in front of her face. He wiggled the phone from Brittani’s grasp and ended the call before putting his face as close to hers as his nostrils would allow.

"You fix them crusty lips to call my woman Shamu one more time.. and I'll throw you in the ocean with Bruhman chained to your ankle like a weight." Brittani remained silent, only nodding her head fervently when he was done.

"Nah, you know what? That's not good enough. Call my girl back. Yeah, call her."

“Yeeesss?” Hennessy sang from the other end of the phone.

"The bit-, I mean Brittani got something to say to you. Go 'head."

Brittani hesitated, Erik's eyes giving her the option to cooperate or face consequences. He'd taken pictures of her dirty stove capturing a roach on the move and was threatening to post it on a MAC forum along with a short video of her asleep with a roach on her forehead. She decided it would be best for her to cooperate and cut her losses.

"Hi, Hennessy. I'm sorry for what I said to you and you were right, I couldn't handle him. I guess..," she wavered briefly, "I guess you're a better woman than me all-around. I could never. I see that now."

Erik cleared his throat quietly.

"Oh, a-and you're very beautiful, very statuesque and curvaceous. I wish I looked like you--"

“You don’t have to lie, now, sweetheart. You don’t wish you looked like me, you’re only saying that because you’re afraid of what he’ll do to you if I give the word. However, let this be a lesson to you. Just because you think you’re better than someone, that may not always be the case. Even if this little experiment had been his own choice, he’d still come back to me because he knows that no woman will ever treat him the way that I do. I’m one in a million and he’d be stupid to let me go.”

"So I can come home now?"

“Of course you can, Daddy. I got homemade crab cakes and lobster man n cheese waiting for you as well as two freshly pearled blunts of some new shit. I even felt generous and made a bananas foster cheesecake.” Erik’s mouth watered when she mentioned the dessert he fell in love with when they visited her parents the previous summer.

"A nigga need a bath, a nap, and a backrub. I ain't get no sleep. I had one eye open all night."

“You can have whatever you like, baby. My schedule is clear for the next week.”

“Shiiiit, I’m on my way.. And be naked when I get there.”

Horny ass nigga.

"Take notes," he said to Brittani as he hung up. “And tell my nigga Craig he can have them clothes. I ain’t tryna bring none of y’all kids home.”

TAGS: @panthergoddessbast @amethyst1993 @vikkidc @blackpantherismyish @youreadthatright @mareethequeen @princessstevens @bartierbakarimobisson @madamslayyy @nickidub718 @chaneajoyyy @blowmymbackout @muse-of-mbaku @killmongersgurl @thehomierobbstark @forbeautyandlife @wakanda-inspired @thadelightfulone @purple-apricots @trevantesbrat

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 89

Chapter Summary -  Danielle stays in Ireland to deal with the house situation as Tom heads back for the Kong Skull Island premiere.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​​ @jessibelle-nerdy-mum​​ @nonsensicalobsessions​​ @damalseer​​ @hiddlesbitch1​​ @winterisakiller​​ @fairlightswiftly​​ @salempoe​​​ @wolfsmom1​​​

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

Danielle sat waiting in the solicitor's office, a cup of tea on the table next to her, a small but significant piece of paper under her hand. She thought of how she had dropped Tom to the airport that morning, telling him she would be home in less than a week hopefully, that she would see him before he went on the international part of the Kong Tour.

Again she looked at the small piece of paper in her hand, it had taken Tom another two minutes to convince her it was the right thing to do, and a small call to NatWest to confirm that yes, given her credit history and the fact she had her house as collateral, she very much was guaranteed the loan. So with a small transfer and a trip to her Credit Union, she and Tom were able to hold the piece of paper that meant that she would get to pay for her aunt's part of the house. Tom smiled as she looked at it, clearly ecstatic as to what it meant for her. When he had asked her what was her plans, she simply shrugged and stated the other half, when she could.

She was brought back to the present by the sound of people walking down the hallway towards her. She knew by the irked voice of one that it was her aunt, she inhaled deeply and waited for the door to open. When Bernadette entered the room, she looked angrily at Danielle. "What do you want? I suppose you are going to try and stop me from forcing the sale?"

"Just sit down, Bernie," Danielle growled.

"You have no respect," The woman commented, but she did what was required. "Where is the solicitor gone?"

"To get the last of the paperwork."

"What paperwork and what would you know, you dropped out of college, Mattie was too soft on you, you went on to do nothing."

"I would disagree, I have a great paying job, I have a nice home and a good hard-working boyfriend, things are very much going well for me Bernie, not that I am overly bothered by your opinion, though I do use it to gauge things. What you find to be terrible and anger, I know my father would have approved of, so thank you for setting my concerns to rest." Danielle smiled sweetly just as the solicitor re-entered the room.

"Right, so it is a fair swap really, nothing of great note, you Danielle Hughes, are offering the whole twenty-five thousand euro share of the house at Droichead Beag, Connemara, Galway to Bernadette Whelan, your aunt and on her accepting, she is signing over her share of the building and her legal rights to it. That is the general gist of this." The solicitor explained.

Bernadette frowned then looked at Danielle, who looked at her for her reaction before pushing the draft forward. "How?"

"I told you already, I have more than enough money." Danielle grinned. "Oh and I still want my mother's things back. I mean it, Bernie, I am going home tomorrow, I want them back before I head to the airport. I have spoken with Michael and Lourda, I have a guy coming to change the locks today and you will not be given a key, you are no longer responsible for anything in the house and you will not have to concern yourself with its maintenance or bills."

"Fine." Bernadette went for the bank draft, which Danielle pulled back.

"I will give this to Mr Roberts, you will sign that legal document, he will give us a copy each and you will get your money then."

"Are you trying to imply I would try to rob it?" Bernadette snapped, her face showing how appalled she was by the idea.

"No, but that is the legal process." Danielle scoffed, "So sign the damn paper so I can get on with my day. I need to go shopping for a dress."

"What would you want a dress for, you never wore dresses when your father was alive?" "I have something to go to as soon as I return to London, so chop-chop, I'm a busy woman."

* Danielle smiled as she drove to the airport. She had slept well enough as Tom's smell was still on the side of the bed that he had been on and knowing that they would return there soon, her holding the largest part of the home she always wanted making her excited and happy. She had gotten a dress the day before after the solicitors and with her hair and make-up booked, she looked forward to going home, to being home with Tom again, arranging for them to go public and finally be able to do things together. The idea of them and Mac going for a walk in Hampstead Heath was enticing in ways she could not vocalise, she knew at first there would be people annoying them, but she knew too that they would be old news again in the near future.

She handed back the car and went to the check-in desk, she knew Tom would be busy all day, he had to prep and get ready for the premier. He had texted earlier in the day to ask her how she was getting on, she gave him a story about getting the legal work signed and said little else before the car to ready him for the day arrived, so with 'I love you's' and goodbyes, they said they would talk later.

As it stood, she arrived in London on time and was able to get a taxi back to the house, it felt almost odd to be back and for Tom not to be there, but with too little time to worry about things, she rushed around, getting her bag and everything brought back upstairs and into the room, she looked around, Tom had it as it always was, but she realised that the bed was unkempt in the centre and not to the side, causing her to laugh slight, Tom clearly taking advantage of the greater space. She took out the dress and went into the wardrobe to get the shoes she knew would work with it. Just then, her phone rang. "Hey, Nacelle."

"So, I spoke to Henry, he said that he can fit you in, he is brilliant, I trained with him, I would not allow some half-wit at you."

"You're the best Nacelle."

"You know it darling, listen, how does lunch at ours sound next week?"

"Brilliant, day and time and I'll be there."

"Woohoo, we will wait until lover boy is on the road so you'll have something to do other than pine for him."

"I will not pine, I will mope quietly in a corner and pretend not to eat my own weight in Ben and Jerry's." Nacelle laughed. "I'll be fine, it's only two to three weeks."

"How was Ireland?"

"Wet, wetter than usual."

"So submerged then?"

"Effectively, here faired no better I can see."

"Apparently not if you listen to Becky. Anyway, I will talk to you later, Henry is lovely, he'll look after you."

"Thanks again Nacelle."

"Anytime girl, I'll look after you." Nacelle sang before hanging up the phone.

With her dress and shoes in hand, Danielle rushed outside and into the waiting taxi, texting the address as she went.

* Tom smiled brightly as the rain fell, there had been one question about Taylor, but he dismissed it, focusing on the movie instead, he smiled, posed and spoke with his fellow cast members for what seemed like an hour on the carpet. He loved that the tour was starting at home, he would be able to get another few days at home. More importantly, if Danielle could get everything sorted in Ireland, she could come home, he could spend a few more days with her before he left again, that caused him to smile more.

He joked and smiled as he, Brie Larson and Samuel Jackson stood together, being photographed and Jackson complained jokingly of the British weather. He began to walk into the cinema finally and sighed. Overall the evening was a success thus far. He took out his phone and looked at it, a few texts had come in, all of well wishes, but none from Danielle, which caused him to frown. She knew what time he was due to be in the cinema, she was usually one of the first to text, so it felt a slight bit disheartening. He looked at the celebrities that had come to the premiere also, the cameras flashing as they posed, he found himself hoping they enjoyed it. He also watched the others that had secured tickets, Emma said she was coming, so at least his little sister would be in the crowd, one of the first to give her opinion on it. He had not seen her enter, but the simple text 'we're here' had made its way to his phone, making him smile.

The movie was well edited, the CGI made all the imaginary running for his life look good, and from those who were present, it seemed to be well received, not Oscar-worthy, but good nonetheless. Again, he checked his phone a few times through the movie, but there was no word from Danielle. He was tempted to text, but as the first to clench his jaw when others did such things, he resisted, he would ring her when he was done. He watched as one woman rose from her seat in a manner that suggested she was trying to make as little of a nuisance of herself as possible and rushed up the aisle of the theatre. She was well dressed, her choice elegant, but Tom had to admit alluring also, he had not seen her outside posing for photos yet he felt as though he knew her, but he shook his head, she was of similar build to Danielle and he had not seen her face properly because she had not looked toward him in the darkened room.

There was a round of applause when the film ended and slowly the lights began to rise again. The room was a flurry of activity once more. Tom felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and when he saw Danielle's name, he grinned widely.

Danielle - I hope you had a great night and that the screening went well, I know it will do great with people. Why do I get the feeling you have made a new clatter of 'Hiddlestoners' with this one xx

Tom smiled as his brow furrowed, unsure what Danielle was referring to, but to see a text from her caused him to feel elated. With people congratulating him he shook hands and began to talk to people regarding the film.

The after-party was being held in a small club not far from the cinema, the list was shorter than the premiere one and in truth, as much as Tom enjoyed getting people's positive reactions, he wanted to go home.

He forced the smile onto his face as he stood with the same small flute of champagne in his hand after half an hour, counting down the minutes until he could leave.  "Well done." the first genuine smile came onto his face as he heard his sister's voice behind him. She embraced him tightly in a hug. "I actually really enjoyed that."

Tom chuckled, "you sound somewhat shocked by that statement."

"Well, remakes can go either way," Emma stated defensively.

"Where is Jack?" Tom looked around before looking to Emma again.

"At work, I told you this the other day."

"But you said 'we're here'."

"Yes," Emma grinned. "But I never mentioned Jack."

"Then…" Tom turned slightly and stared open-mouthed as he realised who was beside them. Feeling incredibly sheepish for noting the woman that had gone to the restroom during the movie was similar to his girlfriend, not realising it was actually her. Danielle's hair was tied back from her face, which had her make-up done to have a natural look and she donned a dress he knew for a fact she had not had in the closet before going to Ireland. "How…the house…?"

"Done and dusted yesterday, I flew home at lunchtime. Hello, by the way." Danielle smiled.

Tom immediately leant in and forced himself to only kiss her cheek. "Hello, I…I didn't think…"

"When Luke rang about that confirmation for the show, he asked if I planned on coming as a normal patron, I told him to see if I could keep a ticket aside, and when Bernadette all but snapped the bank draft from my hand, I knew I could make it."

"So it's done, you have the house?"

"I have half the house, but don't worry, I will get the other half soon." Danielle winked. She watched as Tom fought to prevent himself from declaring to the room about them, his eyes darting over her elegant dress which shaped her breasts perfectly. "Behave," she warned.

"This will be the longest two hours of my life." He groaned.

"What was it you called it before," Danielle teased as she leant in to whisper in Tom's ear so Emma would not hear. "Delayed Gratification." She grinned.

Danielle's dress

[v1rg1nvodkasprite]

Greaser → Ben Hardy (Part IX)

Summary

Due to Shenanigans, you have been sent back in time to the 1960s. You find yourself in a high school. You also find someone very intriguing but he’s unrestrained.

Warnings: sickness, language, angst, hospitalization, fluff.

Notes: series is coming close to the end. i hope you like this and thank you for reading. x

I woke up to Ben moaning and groaning. He had turned onto his other side, facing away from. The bed shook as he shook violently.

"Ben?" I called out touching his shoulder. His body temperature had spiked and sweat covered his body. "You're burning up, are you okay?" I asked.

"I feel sick," he said hugging himself, shaking more. "Just stay here. I'll get you some water," I said, getting up and going to the kitchen. It seemed like he had the flu and it was probably just the affects of going 50 years into the future.

I came back with a glass of water but he was out of bed. His body was hunched over, throwing up into the small trash can by my desk. "Oh, babe. I'm so sorry," I said, setting the glass of water on the desk and sitting down next to him.

"I'm sorry," he said, as I rubbed his back. "Don't be sorry. It's okay, you're just a little sick," I said. He sniffed a little bit, "I think I'm just gonna take a shower, where's your bathroom?" he asked, getting up, supporting himself against the edge of the desk. "It's just right down at the end of the hall. I got you some water," I said, handing him the glass I got him earlier, "I'll help you turn on the water."

I led him to the bathroom, his clammy hand holding mine. I leaned turned on the faucet and let the water warm up, "Is the temperature okay?" I asked and he leaned down to feel the water. "That's good. Thank you, love," he said and smiled sickly. I nodded, turning on the shower.

"Just let me know if you need anything," I said. "You're not staying?" he asked, smirking a little bit. "Ben, you're sick. Just take the damn shower," I laughed and he playfully poured. I shook my head, smiling as I walked out, closing the door behind me.

It was about 15 minutes until he walked out, the towel hung low around his waist. Droplets of water running down his chest and torso. I might have stared a bit too long.

"Take a picture, baby. It'll last longer," he joked. I reached over to the record stand beside my bed, pulling out the white polaroid camera.

Carefully taking the camera out of the bag, I looked through the lens, preparing to snap the photo. "I didn't actually mean it," he shook his head. "Yeah but I might as well," I smiled. He looked down laughing, his hand reaching up to finger through his hair. I snapped the picture before pulling it out of the polaroid, shaking it a bit.

He sat down beside me, still in his towel. "How do you feel?" I asked. "Still like shit," he laughed. I grabbed an oversized sweatshirt, throwing it at him. "Wear that. I'll be right back. I've got to go shopping," I explained. "Babe, stay. You don't have to," he said.

"You can't just stay your old clothes for the rest of your life, especially while you're sick. You won't be comfortable. It'll only be an hour or so," I said, grabbing my wallet and keys, "I need to get you some medicine too anyways."

"Okay, hurry though," he said, pulling the sweatshirt over his head and getting under the covers. "I'll be back before you know it," I smiled, walking out of my small loft apartment.

Getting in my car, I drove to the mall. I ran to a few stores, picking out some clothes that Ben might like. I made sure, it was a bit on-trend. The whole thing was expensive but I decided that I'd just work my ass off next week to make up the difference.

I drove back to my apartment, unlocking the door and walking in. "Ben," I called out but there was no response. I set down the bags of clothes on the couch. "I got you some clothes. How are you feeling?" I called out again. There wasn't any response.

"You okay?" I asked. I opened the door to my bedroom. Ben wasn't laying on the bed like I had left him but most of the covers were off the bed. I walked around the bed and there he was. His skin was pasty and had turned pale. His lips were purple. It looked as if he was dead.

"Shit!" I whispered, kneeling down to him shaking him. He had snot running down his face and his hair was sticking to his face from the sweat. "Hey, hey. Wake up. Come on," I shook him again.

I leaned down, placing my ear near his mouth. His breathing was slow, almost silent. I cradled his face, pulling him into my lap. He had gotten significantly hotter since I last checked him. "Get up, babe. Ben, please," I said, tears welling up. Fuck.

I wrapped my arm around his torso, under his arm. I tried putting his weight against me so I could get him to my car. As I tried to get up, I fell back down. I tried again but fell.

"Fuck," I exclaimed, reaching for my phone, dialing 911. The phone rang twice before someone picked up. "911, what's your emergency?" a man asked from the other side of the line. "Hi! My friend was sick with the flu I think and now he's passed out. His breathing is slowed and he's really pale. I can't carry him so could you please send an ambulance?" I asked, frantically. "Yes, what is your address?" he asked. "9175 Thrasher Ave," my voice shook as I spoke. "Thank you, ma'am. Paramedics will be there in about seven minutes."

I got up, running to the sink and pulled out a rag. I quickly wet it with warm water and went back to Ben. I pulled his head back onto my lap, dabbing the cloth against his forehead. "Please, be okay. Please, be okay," I whispered, moving a strand of hair out of his face. I wrapped a large, heavy blanket around him, trying to get him to break his fever.

A couple of minutes later, there was a knock at the door. I ran to it, opening the door. It was the paramedics. I led them to where Ben laid, unconscious. "His name?" one of them asked. "Ben Hardy. Is he going to be okay?" I asked. "We'll take good care of him. Are you riding in the ambulance or driving yourself?" they asked.

"I'll drive," I said. I probably needed a ride back to the apartment, depending on whether or not he could come home later tonight or not.

They put him on the gurney, caring him out to the ambulance. I watched them carefully rolling him into the back and shutting the door before a couple of them got in the back with him. I got in my car, just waiting and thinking everything over. None of this was going to plan.

It might have just been too much for his body. Maybe we should've prepped more. Surely, he'll be okay. I sighed, turning on the car and backing out, following the ambulance.

When we got to the hospital, I followed Ben to the room he was put in. "What's wrong with him?" I asked as they set him up in the bed. "He's got a fever of 103.4. The nurse will be in here a second to run some more tests. Do you mind if we ask a few questions?" a woman said as the other paramedics got him settled. I nodded.

"When did he start feeling sick?" she asked. "He had a headache last night and this morning it just blew up," I explained. After a few more questions and some paperwork, which I tried to fill out as much as possible, a nurse came in to run some test.

"Ma'am, are you family?" she asked, sanitizing her hands and putting on some gloves. "No, but-" I started to say but she cut me off. "I'm going to have to ask you to wait outside. I'll be done soon and then you'll be able to come back," she said, turning to Ben. "Okay," I said quietly, walking out.

The image of Ben on the ground, pale and unconscious stayed in my mind. What the fuck could possibly be wrong? Was this really just some flu-like thing? The thoughts raced through my mind as my leg bounced. To say I was anxious was an understatement.

"Ben Hardy?" a woman called out. I stood up, a worried look on my face. "Everything's done, if you'd like to see him."

I nodded, following her back to the room. I was met with Ben sleeping peacefully on the hospital bed. He looked less pale then before but dark circles had started to form and his face had thinned significantly since I last saw him. This was all going to fast.

"How is he?" I asked. The nurse turned to me, taking off the gloves and mask. "It's one of the weirdest cases, I've seen. We're going to have to monitor him throughout the night. It seems as if his body is fighting itself. It's not cancer but his cells are killing themselves and his immune system isn't doing anything at all," she explained. This wasn't the flu.

"Pam, we need you in Room 147. It's a 68 year old male. Fever of 103.4. It's urgent," she sighed, "I'll be back to answer any other questions you have."

I looked to Ben, sitting in the chair beside his bed. There was crying from outside the room. I stood up, looking behind the curtain. It was an elderly woman. "Please, all this just started last night. I thought it was just a headache and then he fell and wouldn't wake up," she cried. I was confused that was the same situation as Ben.

Maybe this was something more than what it seemed. "Name?" I heard from outside the room. "Benjamin Hardy," the woman from before said. What the fuck.

taglist

@rrrogah-tayluhh , @simplyvictoria-93 , @rencontre-moi-dans-le-couloir , @kirket03 , @plethora-of-things , @satanspaghetti , @rogersrager , @spreadymercury , @hi-i-dont-know , @kurt-nightcrawler

[canaryatlaw]

okay, I’m tired. today was a lot. I woke up at 6 and made good time getting to work, making sure I was prepped for the FIVE cases I had up in court this morning, with the client present for each case...so that’s a lot of clients to handle, lol. I had to get them all into the office and then my supervisor was going to handle the two in one courtroom and I did the three in the other. the one of my 3 that was a first return didn’t end up showing up which made things a lot easier because it was one less person to juggle, and that case specifically had a spanish speaking client and I do not speak very much spanish (though I’ve concluded I really should start learning more for this job) so I would need to have another present to translate and that also means the case has to wait for the official court translator to get there, and it’s all just a hot mess. the two cases I did handle went as expected and were easily handled, and I was down from court by 10:15. after I got my clients squared away, I got a text from my supervisor saying in their courtroom they were still waiting for them to call the cases and my coworker had this huge hearing starting at 11 that she needed to check in with her before, so I ended up going back upstairs and retaking over my two cases. Apparently the judge had let someone go on for like 30 minutes in a motion which is just not something you do during the morning court call, so now everything was super behind, and to make things worse the giant hearing my coworker had was set for 11 in that courtroom, and couldn’t start until all the cases were cleared. the cases did get called but then had to be recalled so we didn’t end up getting out of there until like 11:30, at which point my supervisor and coworker were back up there along with OC and like 10 witnesses all waiting for the court to finish and I’m just like damn, I’m so sorry...there’s a whole history with this case of it taking months to actually get to hearing but I won’t get into that now. so it was a lot. once I had all my clients squared away, I worked on post-court stuff for a while that needed to be done, as well as helping out with clinic. Wednesday is my work buddy’s normal clinic day, but since it was his turn for Monday this week (that we rotate) he had already seen a lot of clinic haha so I tried to do what I could to help out. at one point I just ended up organizing his paperwork that was all in a giant pile on the empty desk in his office and he was just like “....are you organizing my paperwork? why??” and I was like “well it needs to be done so I might as well do it!” haha but he very much appreciated it. Tomorrow is going to be my second clinic day of the week, since I switched with my coworker who has the hearing that will continue for another like 6 hours tomorrow, so this week has been work buddy day, my day, work buddy day, then my day again lol. this week in general has just been super busy so I’m prepared for it to be a lot. I also have a court case to handle in the morning which will prove to be interesting, the OC filed a motion that is completely incorrect in all of its arguments, but ultimately comes to the right conclusion out of sheer dumb luck, so we can’t dispute that but I just reallllllllly want to make sure the court knows how ridiculously wrong the motion is. I haven’t met this OC before but I’ve talked to him on the phone once and emailed with him a bit, he seemed friendly over the phone but the following email seemed much more hostile in tone so I wasn’t sure what to do with that. I just know that when it comes to older male private attorneys 90% of the time they’re going to look down on me for being a new lawyer when they’re the ones that actually have no idea what they’re doing and I just want to shove it in their face every time and make sure they realize just how much they fucked up. so that might end up being interesting, lol, I’m gonna try to hold off on any unnecessary fighting, but we’ll see what happens. I left around 5 and made my way home, then got Thai food with a friend which was nice, the last time we were there we both had strong negative reactions to one dish but not in a way that was any fault of the restaurant, so it was good to confirm that we can still eat there and be okay lol. came back home and watched some more of The Crown before showering and starting to get ready for bed and I am now here and tired and it’s just past midnight so that sounds like a good time for me to go to bed, so I’m gonna do that now. Goodnight friends. Hope your week is going well.

[isobel-thorm]

date + "i just need you to do this one thing for me."

Date: Origins

As far as John Donovan was concerned, Katherine Flynn was the least mobster-y mobster of all of the Irish bastards who had come to the U.S in the last couple of decades. He always had bigger fish to fry, so he knew very little about the Flynns.  The rough summary was that the Flynns had been a big name mob family on the Emerald Isle until one side of the Grecco family had gotten greedy, come their way and exterminated Liam, the patriarch of the family. His two kids had fled to the States to hide behind the Burke’s because things were about as amicable between mobsters as you could get, and Thomas Burke had owed Liam about twenty favors.

Big brother Ciaran had seemed to be the one who wanted to start trouble. He worked for Burke when Katherine had run damage control more than anything. She made sure everyone played by the rules in their dealings.

Of course, she still played mob princess. The first time he had seen her officially in person was by chance. They had gone to the same bar for a drink. He was tailing one of Marcano’s goons for information about a case when said goon had gone over to Katherine, laid the flirting on thick and then grabbed her ass, and within seconds the guy had a knife embedded straight through his hand.

A little much, but the girl had style, he’d give her that.

Then months later, she found him. She wanted information about the Greccos. He had played dumb and asked why she assumed he would know and then she took the rug out from under him and informed him that she had been onto him the whole time he was onto her because he ‘wasn’t subtle.’ He had come back with ‘neither are you’- to which she had bought him a drink in response. And he was never one to turn down free booze.

What started at a handful of thinly veiled threats from both ends kicked off as steady case of “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours”- information for information, support for support, spying for spying, an alibi for an alibi. It ended up with the pair of them being fairly amicable  If someone would’ve told him he would be friends with a mob princess a decade ago, he probably would’ve laughed.

It was her that had first made him look the Marcanos’ way. There was something laughable at that, too.

Her request had been simple. She had come to him one night and merely said “I just need you to do this one thing for me.” She had heard about one of the Greccos joining the Marcanos via marriage, and she wanted information about both sides that she could exploit so they would destroy each other.

Well, that was a solid plan, and he had seen Katherine in action. She was a master manipulator when she wanted things done- all she had to do was bat her eyelashes and tilt her hip and give one of those evil smiles and the world was her fucking oyster. She could plant that little seed of doubt in someone’s ear and they’d be tearing at each other’s throats before long.

Two mob families warring and exterminating each other? Sounded good to him. So he had told her certain details about gossip and locations he had heard about the families. Why the fuck she had taken an extra step and started fucking that little rat-looking bastard Giorgi Marcano was beyond him.

She didn’t have a problem telling him that she could get more information from an egotistical man if she was in his bed, and okay, that was fair. Men as a whole were idiots, and it wasn’t like she had tried anything with him. Yet.

And then John’s entire world had gone sideways when Lincoln had showed up again and had gotten involved with the Marcanos again- or had seemed like it was headed that way before Sal and fucking Giorgi had backstabbed Lincoln and his family and set Sammy’s bar alight and killed nearly everybody inside. Lincoln had survived by sheer chance. John had been an absolute wreck. His actions were practically not his own when he found himself calling on her for help the day after it had gone down.

She had shown up at Father James’ door, offering the padre a weak smile and a polite nod- not something she would do. Having your father get brutally murdered seconds after leaving his side would mess up anyone’s faith. The father had nodded back and stepped aside to let her in. She had practically flown into John’s arms right after, even if he knew she wasn’t expecting him to return the gesture. She had just sat with him after that, letting their knees brush every so often- her own way of showing silent support; her first show of subtlety, too.

It had gone like that for another day or two until John could finally find his voice again. He had looked at her after James had left. “I uh… feel free to hit me for this one because there’s no delicate way of asking but… I officially need to call in that favor.”

“Get closer to Giorgi and play him like a fiddle even more so we can get as close to him as possible and then end all of their miserable lives?”

“Absolutely.”

“Consider it done.”

Months later, John’s stared down at paperwork that told them very loudly that Kate did her damn job with Giorgi so well that the bastard knocked her up. And the naturally after he found out he decided to turn tail and keep her as far away as possible. Because the guy who looked up to his father and son to a man who would move mountains for his son couldn’t be bothered to do the same for his own kid. Cocksucker. Sure, it had also eliminated a really good source of information, but now the bastard needed to get shot in the dick. At least Lincoln knew mostly everything he needed to know. He just needed to finish taking the rest of the city.

Kate moved a hand over her stomach, reading the doctor’s results over and over again. It’s not a condemning action, it’s not exactly protective either, but John knows better than to ask some universal dumbass question like ‘what’re you gonna do with it?’. He likes her, he knows she likes him but he knows full well she’d kill him for that one.

“… … Can I call in a little favor?” she asked after a moment.

He hummed, then set the paper down. “You want a shitty ring and a sham marriage or a place to stay where people won’t look at you funny for years?” when she gawked at him for that, he shrugged. “What? Hell, I technically got you into this mess, I’ll get you out.”

“Yeah, well, I was only going to stay in contact and have the kid’s middle name be Donovan so you’d always remember that little fact. You don’t have to-”

“Least I could do.”

“Holy shit. John Donovan showing up as the knight in shining armor. Never would’ve thought.”

“Yeah, well, don’t go shouting that from any rooftops, I have a reputation to uphold. And you never answered the question.”

She elbowed him in the ribs. “How about neither, you daft bastard.”

He laughed at that. He didn’t end up getting an answer that night, but he was fine with it.

Little Jason Donovan Flynn was born a few months later, and Lincoln sent Sal and Giorgi Marcano down to Hell and then left days after that.  John had stuck around to tie up loose ends with a few other cases and then prepped to leave himself. John had stopped by Kate’s apartment to wish her well and promise he’d be in touch, only to find she was packing up herself.

Her explanation was simple: she never really had roots there, and with Burke dying there wasn’t much assured safety for her or little Jay, Ciaran would be leaving soon as well,- and she wasn’t even certain Jay was safe from Burke’s arm of the mafia and she wasn’t ‘in the mood for people who’d kill an usurper without considering he wouldn’t want to usurp.’

He had asked where she was going and she had shrugged and said she had planned on driving until her gas tank ran out. John had mentioned going to a ‘little place just outside Houston’, and she had grinned and said she’d follow him there.

It wasn’t like he was much different. He’d follow her and the little gremlin to the ends of the Earth. It was amazing what loyalty and zero backstabbish-behavior would get anybody in that day and age.

All this from a favor, he had mused, sometime later when the whole Senator Blake ordeal had reached its peak and he showed up at her door in order to lay low for a while after losing the cops. She had slapped him so hard his ears rang for a few seconds, and then she had yanked him forward by the tie and kissed him- not their first kiss, but their first that wasn’t some sort of distraction when they were in the field.

“Awww, you were worried about me. That’s adorable,” he had offered when they had finally parted. It had earned him another light punch to the chest.

He had plopped down on the couch after that, and when little Jay had come wobbling over to him, he had held his hands out to steady him once he reached him. “Man, you really did get the short end of the stick with looks. You’re all Giorgi,” he pointed out.

“Da,” Jason agreed.

“Yeah, your deadbeat dad,”

“Da!” Jason repeated, and then practically smacked John’s hand down.

And then it hit John as to just what the kid was actually trying to say. “Oh hell no, Kid. I’m not- “ he stopped short. Well what the fuck was the point, it wasn’t like Giorgi was here to be a worse case. “Well, guess I’m the closest thing you’ve got, huh?” when he got another ‘Da’ in response, he laughed. “You’re gonna have one fucked up upbringing…”  Jason only giggled in response, and John sighed before pulling him up onto the couch and giving him the toy phone that one of them had put on the coffee table.

It was really only fair that his life was equally a mess- half of his time was spent on that little vengeance crusade when the last was being nauseatingly domestic with his best friend-potential old lady now.

And it was all because of a couple of small favors.

[ceealaina]

Everything You Do Convinces Me More

Title: Everything You Do Convinces Me More Pairing: Steve Rogers x Tony Stark Link: AO3 Rating: T Summary: Steve likes to prank people. And then he and Tony hook up. There’s some kind of connection to the two events in there somewhere. Word Count: 5,222 A/N: Loosely based on this tumblr post about Steve being a total troll. My brain read it and ran with it. 

It started during Steve’s “reintegration process,” shortly after he’d been thawed from the ice, when SHIELD hadn’t quite figured out what to do with him yet, but didn’t want to risk leaving him to his own devices, and had kept him on lockdown instead. They hadn’t called it that, of course, but Steve wasn’t stupid. 

And the thing was? Reintegration was really damn boring. Steve missed the 40s, of course he did. He missed his friends, missed Peggy and the commandos (and Bucky, always Bucky, like a hole in his chest). And of course it was a culture shock sometimes; he didn’t think he’d ever get over the price of a cup of coffee. But it didn’t take him nearly as long to adjust as everyone seemed to expect, and the Recent American History books got real dry real fast. And well, ask anyone who really knew him, and Steve had always been a bit of a punk. 

So he started fucking with people. 

It was just harmless stuff, really, nothing more than a mild irritant. He’d taken to computers and the internet like a duck to water, and one day, three hours deep into YouTube videos, he ended up watching a 47-second video on how to flip a desktop screen. And so the next day, when he passed Agent Endright’s unoccupied desk (the same agent who, three days earlier had explained how to use a damn microwave in the most condescending tone that Steve had ever heard), he hadn’t been able to resist. And when he heard the frustrated cries coming from Agent Endright - who apparently hadn’t watched the same video as Steve - something warm blossomed in his heart. 

It turned out there were all kinds of fun tricks you could pull with desktops, so a few days later he slipped into Agent Alvarez’s office, quickly took a screenshot of her screen, and set it as the background, hiding the taskbar at the same time. He couldn’t help snickering himself later that day, when he walked down the hall to hear her grumbling about it to another agent, promising to report them once she found out who had done it. (Agent Alvarez, though very nice, was a stickler for rules. Personally, Steve didn’t think it hurt to approach them with a slightly more laissez-faire attitude.) When she pulled him into the conversation, asking if he had noticed anything, he managed to hide his smile, pulling up his best “aw shucks ma’am” expression as he assured her that he hadn’t noticed anything amiss, but he’d be sure to keep an eye out for any potential culprits. 

The next week he brought in a bag of raisin bagels, concealed in a chocolate chip bagel bag. Chocolate chip bagels were a weakness of Agent Lennox, and Steve made sure to position himself in the staff kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee and reading from the newspaper (a real paper one and everything!) when they took a bite, which was promptly spit out with a horrified noise. It was a close thing, but Steve managed to smother his laugh before blinking guilelessly up at Lennox, asking if everything was alright.

He kept going like this for the next couple of weeks. Everyone was talking about the string of pranks that was suddenly plaguing the department, and even though Steve was the only factor that had changed, no one had even the slightest inkling that he might have been behind it. It was kind of great.

Then, of course, Loki arrived and suddenly Steve’s reintegration period was over and without so much as a chance to change his underwear, he was thrown into the thick of things. It was chaos and destruction, and nothing that Steve had ever imagined was even possible. But suddenly he was part of a team again. They’d all gone their own ways at first, but slowly, gradually they’d all made their back to New York, back to Stark - sorry, Avenger - Tower. And it was good. 

They weren’t the Commandos, nowhere near that level of camaraderie, but there was something comforting in the familiarity of having the same people around him every day, and Steve had absolute faith that they would get to the point of real friendship eventually. He just… might… do something to help things along. Like putting purple koolaid in Clint’s shower head (the internet was seriously a wealth of amazing ideas. Steve was a huge fan). Or managing to convince Tony for three hours that he couldn’t figure out how the television remote worked and needed it explained to him. Repeatedly. And that may or may not have turned into a full out prank war among all the avengers that lasted a solid three months, right up until Bruce booby trapped the three hole punch to spray hot sauce, except the person who ended up using it was a high brow client, and Pepper put a stop to the whole thing. 

And through it all, not one person, not even Natasha (he was pretty sure) suspected Steve. They all figured he was some old 1940s fuddy duddy (Clint’s words, not his) who had been born before pranks had been invented, apparently. And Steve was happy to let them keep thinking that, maybe even play it up a little, if it meant he could continue to get away with doing what he was doing. 

The thing was, Steve was kind of a dick. Not an asshole - he felt that was an important distinction. He wasn’t a republican, he firmly believed in equal rights, and he would never hurt someone (unless they were a bad guy, obviously, or otherwise had it coming). But there was some little part of him that liked messing with people in harmless ways. Bucky had known that about him, had always given him suspicious looks, then laughed and called him a punk, ruffling his hair while Steve squawked at him to fuck off. But here no one suspected him, and when he was Captain America, couldn’t quite believe it even while seeing it happen in front of them. So sometimes, when he was exhausted from a long battle, or feeling like Steve Rogers had been replaced by Captain America, or when he was just tired of the pressure of constantly having everyone’s eyes on him, he would do things like steal french fries from strangers in McDonald’s, or shooting past people on bikes when he was out for a run, or cursing up a blue streak in front of teenagers in the park only to stop with a wink the second they pulled their phones out to catch it on camera, or lift cars when there were small children watching (that one was actually super fun. He loved the way their eyes would light up in amazement).

It just made him feel a little bit better about the crazy turns his life had taken. 

*

If you’d asked him three months ago - hell, if you’d asked him three hours ago - Tony would have never, ever pegged Steve as the pranking mastermind. If he’d had to rank the avengers in order of Most Likely to Prank, Steve would be at the very bottom of the list, somewhere below Jarvis. He loved the guy - they’d grown much closer after their initial meeting, and Steve had rapidly grown to be one of Tony’s favourite people. They spent a lot of their free time together, playing long games of chess when neither of them could sleep, or Steve coming down to keep Tony company in the lab, spending hours sketching and talking while Tony got lost in his work. They shared meals, and a love of ice cream, and talked a lot, long conversations that ranged from deep and meaningful to so funny they were on the floor laughing and could barely remember why. Tony adored Steve. He was genuinely kind, smart in a wildly different way from Tony, had a wickedly dry sense of humour that always took Tony off guard, and if Tony was totally honest with himself, he was rapidly developing a pretty strong crush on the man. He’d just never pictured Steve as the pranking type. 

Or at least, that had been the case, right up until the end of the last mission. It had been a long one, though thankfully they’d come out of it relatively unharmed. Tony had banged up his shoulder and ended up hovering near the Quinjet while he made sure it wasn’t anything critical. SHIELD was onsite by then, prepping for cleanup and debriefing, and Tony was only half paying attention to what was going on around him. He could hear people talking close by, and it took a few minutes before he placed Steve’s voice. He sounded confused, and Tony looked up, eyes tracking him down to where he was standing a few feet away, talking to a junior SHIELD agent with a piece of paper in his hand. 

“Son,” he was saying, voice endearing and pleading in a way that only Steve could pull off. “I really need your help with this. Director Fury asked me to fill out this paperwork, and paperwork’s just not my forte. This is form…” He looked down at the paper in his hand. “One-two-seven-niner Delta? And I guess I need form Bravo Bravo One-oh-seven? Do you think you can find the form for me? Fury’s on his way back, and I think he’ll lose it if he has to explain it to me one more time.” 

“I, um.” The agent swallowed, looking confused and more than a little intimidated. “I- yes sir, Captain Rogers. Of course.” He took off at a sprint, and as Tony watched, Steve’s lips twitched, curling up into a smug smile that Tony didn’t think he’d ever seen on Steve’s face before. 

Intrigued now, Tony started fiddling with the side of the Quinjet, turning himself so that he could keep an eye on Steve and his pleased smile while having an excuse at the ready if anyone asked what he was doing. It only took a couple minutes for the agent to return, papers in hand and a perplexed look on his face. 

“Um, Captain Rogers, sir?” 

Steve turned around, that endearing look back on his face, and Tony’s frown deepened because that look was far soppier than anything he’d ever seen on Steve’s face before. 

“Did you find the form, Agent?”

“Uh, well. I think maybe there might have been a mixup? I checked the databases, and I can’t find any record of the form you’re looking for?” He cleared his throat, fluttering the paper in his hand toward Steve. “I did find a form Bravo Bravo one-oh-four. But sir - this is an authorization form requesting permission to host an inner-office bake sale. I-I don’t think that’s the form you were looking for?” 

Tony couldn’t help snorting outloud, and Steve made an awkward choking sound before constructing his facial expression into something even more confused. “Oh,” he said, eyebrows knitting into a frown. “No, I don’t… That can’t be right, can it?” He stared down at the form in the agent’s hand. “Are you sure there isn’t a One-oh-seven?”

“I’m pretty sure, sir.” He was obviously trying to be assertive, but he looked pained at the look on Steve’s face. “I can check again?” 

“Would you?” Steve asked, face lighting up. “I’d really appreciate it.” He frowned at the paper again. “I’m sure Fury doesn’t want me to host a bake sale, but I just can’t wrap my head around searching these databases.” 

“Of course, Captain Rogers sir. I’ll… be back as soon as possible.”

Tony watched him run off again, narrowing his eyes as he watched the exchange. Flipping up his faceplate, he moved over to Steve, who was watching the agent go with the same smile as before. 

“Okay, what gives Rogers?” He asked in an undertone. “There’s no such thing as form Bravo Bravo One-oh-seven.” 

Apparently he’d actually managed to sneak up on Steve, because the other man jumped with a hilarious squawking sound. “Tony! Were you - I didn’t see you there, sorry.” He blinked, face going carefully blank. “What were you saying?” 

“That form you keep sending Agent Two Shoes after? That’s not what we use. It doesn’t even exist. “

“Oh, um. Are you sure? I could have sworn… Oh! You know what? You’re gonna make fun of me, Tony. That’s a form we used during the war. You know, with the ice and everything, sometimes I still get odd things mixed up.” 

“Riiiiight.” Tony frowned at him, puzzling out the detail that had been niggling at him since he first heard Steve talking. “Wasn’t 107 your unit? You know, back in the good old war days?”

Steve shrugged, and there was something slightly panicked in his eyes. “Coincidence. We have a form 70295, and that’s your birthday. It happens.” 

Tony blinked, that stopping him. “You know my birthday? You know those numbers make my birthday?” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s not exactly a state secret, Tony, of course I know your birthday. Come on, I’m exhausted, and we still have to debrief. I’ll, um. Leave a note for Agent Hicks. Let’s go back to the tower.” 

“Yeah, alright,” Tony said, still giving Steve a suspicious look. “Let’s go.” 

*

Steve laid low after that, partially because he wasn’t sure how long Tony had been standing there and didn’t know how much he had put together, and partially because Tony was like a dog with a bone, kept watching Steve speculatively, and so Steve couldn’t have gotten away with something if he’d tried. Still, as previously established, Steve was a dick at heart, and eventually it seemed as though something else caught Tony’s attention, because he stopped eyeing him every time he walked into a room, or sneaking up on him at random moments. He had never called Steve out either, or questioned him further, so Steve figured it was safe. 

He started out slow, little things like moving Clint’s pizza box to the other side of the room when he ran to grab a drink, just enough to confuse him. When nobody jumped out to accuse Steve of being the catalyst for every prank war that had ever occurred, he started stepping things up again, and before long he had (in his own mind, since no one else could know) once again regained the title of Steve Rogers King of Pranks. 

*

It hadn’t taken Tony long to realize that watching Steve the way he was, he was never going to have another chance to catch him and confirm his suspicions. So he’d stopped. Or at least, he stopped actively watching him. Contrary to popular belief, Tony actually did know how to be subtle. It’s just that subtlety didn’t usually serve him that well, so he never bothered with it. Outing Steve as a secret evil mastermind would definitely serve him though, so subtlety it was. 

It took some time - obviously he’d spooked Steve with all his questions after the paperwork incident - but gradually he noticed Steve relaxing around him again, and not watching Tony in turn. And finally, nearly three months later, Tony’s patience paid off. 

It was after another mission and when Tony noticed Steve off by himself, helping with clean up. He made his way over, finding something to fiddle with just out of Steve’s eyeline. At first he was legitimately just doing his thing, cowl off and face exposed as he muscled some debris out of the street and into a somewhat neat pile. But then, as Tony watched, he paused to brush the hair out of his face and his eyes lighted on a group of little kids, around seven or eight, hovering unsupervised at the edge of the barricades, now that the danger had passed. They were watching in awe, whispering to each other and pointing at Steve in excitement, and while Tony had the brief thought of wondering where on earth their guardians were, they seemed pretty safe. Apparently Steve thought so too, because he stopped his cleanup efforts, grinning over at them and waving, laughing when that made them shriek in excitement and duck out of sight. It was sweet, and while wholesome was everything that you were supposed to expect from Captain America, something about it made Tony go all warm and tingly inside. 

But then, Steve looked around furtively to see if anyone was paying attention to him, and when he didn’t spot anyone, he winked at the kids and then picked up a fucking motorcycle and lifted it over his head. The kids all started hollering in excitement, and Tony didn’t miss the smile that spread across Steve’s face. Half impressed and half wanting to roll his eyes on principle, Tony watched Steve do a few overhead presses with the bike before setting it back down with a heavy clang. He held up a finger to his lips, indicating they should keep it to themselves, a secret between them and Captain America, and the kids all took off screeching in excitement. Steve laughed a little before turning back to what he was doing, the pleased grin on his face softening into something that Tony couldn’t quite place. 

When Tony had imagined finally catching Steve out, he had imagined making a big show of it. Maybe recording proof that he could play in lieu of their next movie night, so that ribbing Steve could be a team bonding experience, maybe just jumping out at Steve so he could hold the fact that he had caught him over his head for the rest of time. But something about the pleased look on Steve’s face, the truly happy smile, stopped him, made him want to do something to keep that smile on his face for always, and so Tony said nothing to anyone. 

*

Now that he knew, Tony couldn’t believe that none of them had picked up on it before. It seemed so obvious, in retrospect. Half the tower pranks happened when Steve was the only one who was even around to do it, and somehow they’d never once suspected him. It was a little disgusting, honestly, like Steve was so sweet and innocent he couldn’t pull a prank - even though they’d all witnessed him cursing out Nazis and Republicans and the Yankees on a regular basis? Tony was a little ashamed of the whole team (and himself, if he was really being honest.) 

More and more he noticed that all the pranks (with the exception of when things escalated to a full-on war) could be traced back to Steve, Steve who always looked just a touch too innocent, now that Tony was looking for it. And he’d had every intention of eventually calling him out, had started out just plotting the best way to do so, what the best reveal would be, how to most effectively show the team that he had figured it out first. Except the longer he went without saying anything, the less he wanted to. He kind of liked the secret of it, liked catching Steve’s small smile after he pulled something off, figuring out how he’d pulled his latest prank. It was like a secret the two of them shared, even if Steve didn’t actually know about it. 

And, truthfully, he was falling in love with this new side of Steve. That little crush had grown into something wildly out of control. Tony had known from the get go that Steve was his exact physical type; he’d jerked off to his pictures more times than he’d care to admit during his formative years, and that inclination hadn’t exactly gone away when he’d met him in person. But he’d gotten to learn Steve’s quirks, to realize he was more than just his father’s most successful experiment, and somewhere in there he’d just accepted that he was more than a little in love with the man. Realizing that Steve was a secret prankster, that he was capable of applying his tactical skills to the kind of pranks that took Tony back to his days with Rhodey at MIT? It was like Steve was made for him. 

They probably would have kept on like this forever, never actually going further than that, if it wasn’t for Clint - or, more specifically, if it wasn’t for Clint almost catching Steve. Tony had stepped off the elevator into the common area to find Clint sprawled across the couch, watching some made-for-tv movie, Steve sitting in a chair close by. Steve looked over at the sound of the elevator, giving Tony a warm smile, before glancing back over at Clint with a subtle look that Tony recognized, which meant something hilarious would be happening soon. 

Sure enough, just as Tony had finished filling his mug with coffee, Clint’s phone started ringing. Clint jumped, because he was a terrible spy, and dug it out from where it was buried in the couch cushions, frowning at the caller ID. 

“Nat?” A second later Clint was wincing, and Tony thought he heard faint sounds of Russian coming down the line. “What? No… I don’t… What? What coffee? No, I… I didn’t stand you up! I never messaged you! Why would I meet you for coffee in Bed-Stuy?” 

Tony couldn’t help wincing a little in sympathy, because he’d probably be terrified if he’d stood up Nat too. But also, watching Clint flail around, and the way he kept ducking like he was expecting Nat to come flying through the window at him, was a little hilarious. And the way Steve was carefully trying to not pay attention, chewing at his lower lip in a fight to keep from smiling as he looked out towards the window and pretended he wasn’t listening in on Clint’s conversation, made it hard for Tony to really feel that bad about it. 

Five minutes of Clint frantically trying to explain later, and Clint was hanging up the phone, looking decidedly frazzled. “What the fuck,” he breathed, in the tone of voice of a man who had just survived a near death experience. He started scrolling through his phone, frowning down at the screen. 

“Uh… What was that about?” Tony asked, because it looked like Steve was dying to. 

“Nat’s pissed at me for standing her up, but I didn’t even know we were meeting for coffee?” It came out as a frantic question, Clint looking perplexed. “She said I texted her for a coffee date, and that we were supposed to meet at two, but I haven’t talked to her since yesterday.” He shook his head, still staring at his phone. “There’s not even a message here.” 

“Huh,” Steve said, still acting like he was only half interested. “Weird.” 

Clint nodded. “It’s like…” He trailed off, eyes widening in realization. “It’s a prank! I think someone hacked my phone!”

Tony couldn’t help snorting a little. “Using the regular applications on your phone isn’t exactly what you would call hacking,” he pointed out, getting a glare in return. 

,

“Fine,” Clint retorted snottily. “Someone used my phone without my permission. I forgot it here for a couple hours, and…” His eyes grew even wider, and he pointed across the room at Steve. “You! It was you!” 

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “Me?” he choked out. “Why would it be me?” 

“You were here! You were here when I left, and you were here when I got back this afternoon,” Clint was insisting, voice cracking a little in excitement. “Oh my god, has it been you this entire time??” 

“Uhhh.” 

“Relax, Legolas,” Tony cut in before Steve could give himself away based solely on the guilty expression he was wearing. “It wasn’t Steve. I mean, it’s Steve,” he pointed out, rolling his eyes when Steve looked a little affronted at that. “Come on. And anyway, he was with me most of the afternoon. I had some ideas for a new stealth suit we were trying out.”

Clint blinked at him, visibly deflating. “Really?” 

“Really,” Tony confirmed, finally chancing a glance over at Steve, who was nodding in agreement. 

“Sorry, Clint,” he offered. “I left right after you did.” 

“Aww, pranks,” Clint mumbled, staring down at his phone. 

“Here.” Tony clapped his hands, and Clint him his phone on instinct. “Let me take a look.” He fiddled with the phone for a few minutes, mostly entertaining himself by going through Clint’s browser history. “Yeah, looks like you have some deleted texts. Sent between 3:02 and 3:18.” 

Clint’s eyes narrowed again as Tony tossed him the phone back. “That’s when Sam gets back from the gym,” he breathed, looking like he was already thinking up ways to get him back. “That fucker.” 

Tony smirked to himself. “And on that note, gentlemen, I’ve got some highly volatile experimental stuff to get back to. If I leave it too long there could be chaos… explosions… All the fun stuff. I’ll see you around.” 

He’d half expected Steve to just pretend the entire thing hadn’t happened. Still, he wasn’t exactly surprised when he’d barely made it down the hall before he was jogging after him. 

“Hey Tony! Tony, wait up. I, uh… Wanted to ask you something?” 

“Oh yeah?” Tony turned, arching an eyebrow at him. “What about?” 

Steve met his gaze steadily. “The new stealth suit. I had a few more thoughts.” 

Tony gestured lazily down the hall. “Well then, walk with me Cap.” 

Steve didn’t actually speak until they were safely down in the workshop, fiddling with some of Tony’s spare machinery by the door while Tony made his way over to his latest project. When Steve still hadn’t spoken, Tony looked over to find Steve watching him like Tony was a puzzle for him to figure out. It made Tony shiver a little. 

“You know, don’t you?” 

Tony blinked. “Know what?” he asked, smiling sweetly back at him. 

Steve half laughed and half groaned, sinking into one of the couches and covering his face with his hand. He squinted over at Tony, wry smile in place. “How long?” 

“How long what?” Tony asked, unable to resist teasing Steve when he was getting that adorable, half-embarrassed response. “Oh, how long have I known that you’ve been the menace trolling the entire tower?” He shrugged. “You know, not long. Just a few… months.”

Steve groaned again, flopping back against the couch with a sigh. “It was the paperwork, wasn’t?” 

Tony couldn’t help laughing. “Form BB-107, Rogers? Really? You’re not exactly subtle.” 

Steve was laughing too. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Tony shrugged, feeling suddenly flustered, and turned back to the table, bringing up holograms and avoiding Steve’s eye. “Well, you know. It was kind of fun knowing something that no one else had picked up on. And I don’t know. it brightened up my day, sometimes, watching you mess with people. And, uh… It seemed to make you happy, so…” He trailed off awkwardly. 

There was silence for a long minute, Steve not saying anything at all, and Tony could only take it for so long. He chanced a glance back over at Steve to find him watching him with a speculative look, a slow smile crossing his lips. 

“You didn’t say anything because it made me happy?” he asked quietly. 

“Well sure, when you say it like that I sound creepy,” Tony grumbled. 

“No,” Steve said quickly. “No, not creepy. Not creepy at all.” He got up, moving toward him until he was leaning against the table beside Tony, elbows and forearms touching. “That’s… Really nice, actually. Thank you.” 

Tony snorted at that, trying not to smile at the table. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Steve. I know how rough it was for you, with the whole ice capades interlude.” He looked back up at Steve with a wink. “I hereby give you permission to do whatever you need to to make yourself happy.”

Steve rolled his eyes at that, but he looked pleased at the same time, and, feeling pretty pleased himself, Tony turned back to his work again, Steve a steady, reassuring presence at his side. 

“I, uh…” 

Steve sounded hesitant, and Tony looked over at him, finding Steve chewing nervously at his lower lip but with a determined look on his face. 

“I noticed you looking at me sometimes,” Steve admitted. “I thought…” 

“Thought what?” Tony’s eyes caught Steve’s, the two of them staring at each other for a minute too long before Steve shook his head, blowing out a soft breath. 

“God, tell me if I’m reading this wrong,”he breathed, and before Tony could say anything else, Steve’s big hand was curling around the back of his neck. Tony blinked at him, shocked silent, but when Steve leaned in, Tony didn’t hesitate to close the distance between them. It was probably a little too fast, considering the way their lips bumped together, but Steve just made a surprised, happy sound and then they were kissing, and it was even better than Tony had imagined kissing Steve would be. He couldn’t stop his hands from sliding around his back, digging into thick muscles as Steve’s grip tightened on his neck. 

“Fuck,” Tony breathed when they broke apart for air. He pressed his forehead to Steve’s shoulder, body feeling weak and giddy. “Definitely not reading that wrong, Steve, oh my god.” 

Steve laughed, sounding as giddy as Tony felt. His thumb was rubbing distractingly at the back of Tony’s neck. “Good,” he said, voice just a little rough. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

Tony grinned, absurdly pleased at that, and lifted his head to meet Steve’s gaze again. He traced his finger along Steve’s lower lip, shivering when Steve’s tongue flicked out against the pad. “Does this mean you want to go out with me?”

He earned an eyeroll with that, but Steve was grinning widely, no trace of exasperation. “Tony, I’ve been daydreaming about going out with your ages. Yes, I definitely want to go out with you.” 

Tony laughed, delighted, and then Steve was kissing him again, tightening his grip on Tony to pull him in close until he was practically sitting in Steve’s lap. Tony wasn’t complaining in the slightest; Steve was an incredible kisser, and being as close as possible sounded like a very good thing - especially with Steve’s fingers pressing bruises into his skin. 

They kissed until they both had to breathe again and pulled back, panting slightly. Steve ginned at him, flicking teasingly at one of the curls falling over Tony’s forehead. “Hi Shellhead,” he said softly, and Tony beamed back at him. 

“Hey yourself, Winghead,” he replied, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Steve’s lip. He sighed softly. “You know, the one downside here… We’re going have to tell the rest  of the team, and they will be absolutely impossible to live with.” 

Steve chucked ruefully, and then stopped just as abruptly, a glint that Tony recognized all to well coming into his eyes. “I mean, we could tell the rest of the team…”

He trailed off and Tony found himself grinning because God, he loved this giant, childish troll. “Or…?”

Steve beamed at him, trailing his fingers up and down Tony’s spine. “How do you feel about becoming my partner in crime?” 

[jazy3]

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 15X8

This episode was intense! It felt to me like a bait and switch in that the episode lulled you into a false sense of security and then suddenly hit you out of nowhere. Very well done. The tree branch hitting Meredith’s car in the beginning scarred the bejesus out of me! I really felt for Richard and Meredith in this episode. Richard’s going through such a tough time.

Both Maggie and Jackson’s behaviour was way out of line in this episode though. I’m back to disliking them again UGH. I couldn’t understand why Jackson was being a jerk to Maggie. He’s the one who emotionally cheated. This is his fault. Maggie didn’t do anything wrong. And then Teddy showed up! And ran into Maggie. At which point Owen, Amelia, and Leo appeared of course. No sign of Betty yet and we find out she’s been missing for three days. Yikes!

Alex and Jo oversleep and as a result wake up late for work. Bailey temporarily takes over and gets her old job back. Richard tells her what happened and she benches him for the rest of the day as a result. When Alex and Jo try to leave the house the wind picks up a dumpster and tosses it into a fence in front of them so they decide to stay home and not die. They decide to have a second honeymoon instead just as the power goes out.

So they light candles, sort through their wedding presents, and find out that Alex forgot to mail their marriage certificate so they aren’t legally married. You need that paperwork to legally assume another name like Jo did, but we’re going to breeze right past that apparently. We also find out that Alex knows what a ramekin is and that they’re used for creme brûlée because of Izzie. And he has a better idea for the stuff! Haha!

Poor CeCe! Her health seriously declines in this episode and she’s isn’t high on the transplant list so her doctors start to get worried. But CeCe still tries to get Meredith to put herself out there regardless. She shows her a picture of Link that she took when he wasn’t looking. LOL! Spurred by CeCe’s words about squeezing the joy out of life she accepts Link’ invitation to get drinks. DeLuca looks on longingly UGH.

DeLuca decides to do something about this (great) and comes to see Meredith in the tech room. He tells her he hasn't been able to stop thinking about the kiss at the wedding and that he knows she has lots of options and he wants her to know he’s one of them. Meredith turns him down, as she should, and DeLuca says he thinks there’s something there and thinks she does too. She tells him she’s had such a week and doesn’t trust her thinking, but she will think about what he said when she can think and walks out of the room.

Bailey takes charge and commands the room! She speaks to the frantic people filling the ER like the true boss she is! I feel like she’s going to take her old job back soon. Meredith sports a pink scrub cap with swirls which is a new look for her. They’re continuing this metaphoric trend of her having a new different scrub cap each episode to mirror her dating life which I like.

Meanwhile, Richard finally finds the strength to call Catherine and Koracick picks up! Now he thinks they’re together. Ugh! Come on! The patients in this episode were interesting. There’s an older gentleman who gets impaled by a giant candy cane Christmas decoration after getting into a fight with his wife and deciding to go for a walk because their neighbours put their decorations up WAY TOO DAMN EARY! The couple bickers incessantly and it is very entertaining. Teddy, Owen, and Jackson take him into surgery.

A young woman is impaled in the head by some stupid teenager’s selfie stick while on her way to work. Incredibly, she’s still lucid and talking. While Amelia and Bailey are treating her Amelia sees Betty come into the ER. Teddy notices as well and alerts Owen who goes to meet them. Betty reveals that she was hit by a tree branch while walking there, but she’s otherwise fine. She tells them she’s high and was getting high while she was away but she came back because she misses them and Leo and really wants to get clean. Amelia has to leave for surgery so Owen takes over treating her. I’m glad Betty is back! It was hard seeing Amelia and Owen worry like that.

The young woman calls her Mom to tell her not to worry and that she loves her. Amelia and Helm perform surgery on her to try and remove the selfie stick and repair the brain damage. After the stick is removed she begins bleeding profusely and her brain stem eventually goes dark. Helm is confused and distraught and we learn from Amelia that she never had a chance, but that they tried anyway. We also learn that she’s an organ donor and a match for CeCe! I had a feeling one of the storm casualties would be a match.

Amelia declares the young woman brain dead and they begin prepping her for organ donation. As she’s about to leave the room the woman’s phone rings. Amelia picks it up. It’s the woman’s mother that she was talking to earlier. She informs her that she washer daughter’s surgeon and has to break the horrible news. Immediately afterwards she comes into the ER to find Betty. Betty tells her to yell and just get it over with, but instead Amelia wraps Betty in a fierce hug, thanks her coming back, and tells her she can always come back, and to please always come back. Betty is stunned, expecting a huge blow out, and hugs her back. This scene made me so emotional! Such great acting here! I’m glad she came back!

Nico and Glasses are fighting at the Denny Duquette Memorial Clinic. Nico is an idiot and doesn’t listen to Glasses and goes out into the storm. He gets tossed like a rag doll and he totally deserves it. Glasses goes out and saves him and they take shelter in a parked ambulance. They get stuck there so Glasses makes a speech about the Sunsword from Dungeons and Dragons and how he spent every evening before he left for college playing D&D with his debate club friends. That he knew early on that he liked men, but as neither him nor anyone around him was having sex with anyone exploring those feelings wasn’t really on the table. Kissing Nico made him feel seen, not ashamed, and Nico’s just being an ass.

Elsewhere Maggie and Meredith are in the OR operating on a woman who was impaled by several shards of glass from her glass door during the storm. Meredith is clearly upset. We the audience know it’s because of everything going on with Richard and Catherine, but Maggie doesn't. Instead of asking Meredith what is wrong and why she’s upset, Maggie instead babbles on about her relationship problems with Jackson and takes Meredith’s professionalism for apathy. She confronts Meredith when they scrub out asking her what’s wrong in her life that she can’t listen to her problems.

Maggie routinely claims to know Meredith so well, yet when Meredith indicates that she’s upset with her behaviour Maggie ignores those cues and whines about her own problems like it’s the literal end of the world, when she knows for the fact that Meredith has dealt with much worse and probably is right now. Meredith expresses upset the same way every time and yet every time Maggie fails to notice and only thinks about herself.

For a someone who is supposed to be her ‘sister’ she sure sucks at it. I was just starting to like her and now just like that I’m back to hating Maggie. She’s back to being a selfish jerk who only cares about herself again. Great.In response to Maggie’s complete immaturity and utter childish nonsense Meredith tells her that Catherine is sick and that she needs to be there for Jackson either as a partner or as a friend if she still loves him which she does.

Back in surgery, Teddy, Owen, and Jackson find that despite being impaled by a giant candy cane the older gentleman has come out almost completely unscathed. Teddy asks Owen if they can get a cup of coffee after surgery and he spends the whole time trying to figure out what’s wrong. After it becomes clear that the man will be fine Teddy drops the bombshell. She tells Owen that she’s pregnant with his baby and apologizes for not telling him sooner. She tells him this in front of Jackson, who looks confused, and then gets called into another surgery via a patient whose just come into the ER. She runs into Amelia in the ER and doesn’t tell her what’s going on like a complete jerk.

As Owen and Jackson transport the patient from surgery to recovery Jackson gives him some sage advice about how he was the last one to find out about Harriet and how she’s the best thing that ever happened to him. Jackson agrees to talk to the man’s wife and Owen runs off to find Teddy. The wife makes this beautiful speech to Jackson about how much her and her husband love each other and that they couldn’t have stayed married for 45 years without fighting. Some great acting her as well. Meredith, DeLuca, and Helm tell CeCe that’ve got organs for her. I love Meredith and CeCe together! They’re so great! Her growl of, “Now give me those organs,” is the best!  

Bailey comes to see Richard. He’s reading a book (it appears to be the Bible or something related to AA) and he tells her he’s going to read it front to back and then he’s going to get a new sponsor and start going to meetings again because he’s pretty sure Catherine and Koracick are having an affair. Bailey scoffs at the idea and Richard retorts that they can’t all be Ben and Bailey at which point Bailey tells him that they’re separated. It’s Richard’s turn to give Bailey some sage advice about getting her life back on track and he’s right.

The heartbreak continues as Owen catches up with Teddy right as she’s about to get into an elevator with a patient. He takes over from the orderlies and they get into the elevator together. He asks how she could not tell him and she retorts that it wasn’t easy at which point the doors open and Amelia steps in. She’s smiling and happy which makes the moment all the more heartbreaking. She’s realized that she wants to be Betty’s official Mom because she loves her like a daughter and wants to be there for her officially and unofficially.

She tells Owen that she’s been looking for him all over because she wants to apply to be Betty’s official foster Mom and as a result they might have to move out for a while for bureaucratic purposes, but that she loves Betty, Betty loves her, and they love Betty. Owen and Teddy look at her with grim faces. Owen tells her they need to talk and that he needs to tell her something. She becomes concerned and asks if something is wrong, if something happened. They’re about to tell her that Teddy’s pregnant when the elevator suddenly grinds to a halt.

Cut to Nico and Glasses having sex in the ambulance! Outside the ambulance a transformer falls knocked over by the wind. It crashes into the hospital, cuts off the power, and cuts Grey Sloan Memorial off from the outside world. We cut to find all of the other elevators screeching to a halt and the lights going out leaving their occupants trapped in darkness. Meredith and DeLuca are stuck in one.

Owen, Amelia, and Teddy are stuck in another, in the dark, with a patient who has a license plate lodged in their chest. Bailey and Helm are stuck in another with the donor patient who had a selfie stick in her head. CeCe is in an OR, on the table, being prepped for surgery, surrounded by her surgical team, minus her surgeons, when the power cuts out and they’re all left in the dark. Talk about an intense finale! Oof! Up until that point, I thought okay this episode had been dramatic, but not intense and then WOW! They've left all of l our heroes in mortal peril! We’ll have to wait till the new year to find out what happens! Yikes!

I think the premiere could go a few ways. One, the characters spend the whole episode in their respective elevators / ambulance’s / operating room’s and work through stuff and are freed at the very end of the episode. Two, the characters are stuck there for half the episode and the other half is the fallout. Three, the characters are freed when the premiere starts and we see what happened in flashbacks the whole episode and it’s intercut with the fallout. These are my ideas I look forward to hearing all of yours!

Until next time! Au revoir!

[stvckoncarisi]

Drunk Texting (Part One) - Rafael Barba

WARNINGS: SLIGHTY SMUT

DEFINITELY FOR @barbabangme

Rafael rarely went out with the squad after a long case, he normally just wants to go home and try to relax. And by relax that meant drowning himself in a bottle of his own scotch, alone.

But tonight, he wanted to see you. He wanted to see more of you. For the past two months you consumed his every thought. During trial he was far more confident with you behind him, though he was still slightly jealous of the lanky Italian detective who was able to sit next to you and take in that warm vanilla scent that you carried with you every day the entire time he was trying to convince the jury. But when it came to your testimony, he was extremely flustered and nervous though he did his best to cover that with his hand gestures and constant pacing. During the day while he was working on his next case preps he would laugh at something you scribbled onto your paperwork, and then his mind would wander to how beautiful you looked even when you had that coffee stain on the right thigh of your dress pants. At night, when he was truly alone, he would spontaneously send you a text about the case, but really he just wanted to have some type of communication with you.

Tonight he just wanted to spend time with you outside of work. But when he arrived to the bar to meet the squad, he scanned the faces of the familiar group. He almost let out a sad sigh but Sonny yelled his name and waved him over.

You just weren’t feeling the whole ‘let’s get drunk and celebrate’ thing tonight, you just wanted to spend time alone. It was something that was extremely rare lately, and you planned to take full advantage of this night. You had already picked up your carry out, you had the bottle of wine Carisi’s mom bought you for your birthday. What a lovely woman, you had only met her a few times while visiting with Dominick over thanksgiving. He invited you to come with him simply because your parents were visiting your grandparents in Charlotte and you didn’t have the time to go with them, so you kindly joined Sonny in his venture home. You were stuck between watching the original Scarface for the thousandth time, or watching some gross romantic drama. You looked at the bottle of whine, then the carry out, then the tv screen. FUCK IT you thought to yourself and turned on the romantic drama.

“Counselor!” Rafael turned his head from the drink in front of him only to see Carisi holding two shots in the air. “Get over here, it’s shot time.”

Barba couldn’t remember the last time he had taken shots. FUCK IT he thought to himself. He pushed himself off of the barstool and casually walked over to the detectives sitting at the table.

“Grab a chair. And lose the jacket and tie, this isn’t a business dinner Barba. This is a celebration.” Fin rolled his eyes at the man before him but Rafael looked around him and did as he was told.

They were about six shots deep and Barba was definitely feeling it on top of the three glasses of scotch he had already taken in.

“Hey, so where is Y/N?” He slurred to the group.

“She said she wanted to be alone tonight. I think she’s got a hot date or somethin’ like that.” Amanda laughed as she ran her finger over her empty shot glass.

“I doubt that Rollins, Y/N barely has time to breathe.” Sonny piped up and nudged Rafael’s arm. “She told me she just needed some rest, she’s been dealing with a lot.”

Rafael sat back in his chair, his thoughts wandering.

What if you actually did have a hot date, what if that hot date would end up lucky at the end of tonight. What if that hot date got to touch HIS girl? It was at that thought, he texted you.

You sat comfortably on your couch in your NYPD t-shirt that was way too big because they ran out of your size when you graduated the Academy, the movie was actually good. The lead reminded you of Rafael, sassy, sweet, and handsome. You couldn’t help but to imagine Barba in that position, sweaty over top of you, looking down at you with his beautiful hungry green eyes. His finger would run down your cheek before he would lean down to kiss your lips with his gentle pink ones. You mind would’ve wandered even farther if your phone wouldn’t have buzzed beside you.

I think ur extremely beautiful.

i wish u would’ve come out with us.

u should come

i wish i could make u cum

RAFAEL, ARE YOU DRUNK?

I AM SLIGHTLY INTOXICATED

FROM UR BEAUTY ;)

BARBA GIVE THE PHONE TO CARISI

Cariño, one day, i’m going to make u cum, two maybe three times, or maybe until you’re begging me to stop.

Raf, give the damn phone to the tall italian with the nice hair.

but i’d miss u so much.

can i come over

please

pleaseeee

pleaseeeeeeeee y/n

fine, but you are going straight to sleep.

yes mami, right to sleep. I will be a good boy.

Rafael looked at Carisi with a wide smile, a smile that nobody in the squad had ever seen.

“Don’t give that creepy ass smile to me, what’s going on?” He chuckles at the cuban.

“I’m gonna have a sleep over with detective y/l/n!” He cheered at the squad. “i will see you later!!!”

You nearly finished off the bottle of wine yourself, which had you pretty tipsy yourself. So when Rafael actually showed up at your door you were confused, surprised, and a little excited.

“Raf?” You had a slight slur yourself.

He didn’t speak, he just walked into your small town house. You couldn’t help but to take in his musky scent mixed with tequila and scotch as he walked by. His sleeves were rolled up, his tie was gone, now this was a sight.

“Cariño, don’t speak.” He slurred as he gripped your jaw gently in his hand and pressed his lips against yours for a moment.

He tasted like heaven. It seems like an overstatement, but if heaven tasted like cinnamon gum and the faint taste of expensive scotch, this was it.

He pulled away for a single second just to change his angle.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while now.” He groans against your lips as he snakes a hand up the back of your dark t-shirt. His fingers were cold against your warm skin, but that didn’t stop him from allowing them to roam against the entire canvas of your back that he was restricted to.

That was all it took for you to moan into his mouth, and that was all it took for him to move you over too the couch behind you.

His warm body covered yours while you laid together on the couch, tongues intertwined while hands roamed.

His hands traced your frame, from your cheeks down to your shoulders, to your waist, across your stomach, and back up to your neck, where he traced small circles over your jugular before he moved off of your lips to place small gentle yet wet kisses to the skin.

The scruff of his face left an irritated red mark just below the spot he kissed. You took the opportunity he left and reached for the mans cock that pressed against you with a small moan.

“Cariño, not like this. Let’s go lay down. Get some rest.” He sighed against your neck.

And that’s what you did.

Rafael rarely had the confidence to even talk to you, so when he woke up next to you he was just as confused as you were when you woke up about an hour later. He spent that hour, caressing your smaller frame. Running his fingers through your hair while he nuzzled his nose into your neck.

When you awake, you take in the familiar scent of the extremely handsome ADA that you spent nights dreaming about. This causes you to freak out a little bit and attempt to get out of bed, only to be pulled back into Rafael.

“Woah, woah, woah. Not yet, just lay with me.” He almost whines. “I want to savor this.”

You never pictured yourself laying next to Rafael Barba in his boxers at seven in the morning. So you leaned back into his body.

“oh princesa, your body is so warm.” He groaned out into the crease between your neck and shoulders. “and you smell delectable.”

Rafael had a sweet spot for vanilla.

“I could just..” his lips press against the skin of your neck. “eat you up.” His teeth grazed against the same spot he kissed while his hands roamed over your stomach, stopping just about your waist line.

You tried to contain the moan that was sitting in the back of your throat, but you failed miserably which only caused Rafael to smirk against your skin.

“Mmm, good morning Mami.” he whispers. “Can i touch you..” he ghosts his index finger over your clit through your white cotton panties, then over your slit. His smirk only grows when he can feel how wet you already are through the cotton. “like this? Or like this?” He pulls them to the side and presses his middle finger against your opening while massaging circles against your clit with his thumb. “Or maybe even like this.” With one swift movement his finger entered your center. You expressed a moan and pressed yourself against him. “you want more?”

“Yes.” you nodded against his head and tried to grind yourself farther into his fingers.

“Yes what?” He practically growled into your ear, nibbling softly against the lobe.

“Yes counselor.”

[donutdarwin]

RvB Fluff Week: Day Two - Docnut (1)

A second Docnut to come later in the day!

Prompt: Doc is fucking clueless and Donut is trying so fucking hard.

“If it means you’ll shut the fuck up, then just fucking tell him. I guarantee he’s not going to hate you for it.”

“Aww, Grif, I didn’t know you were so supportive!”

“I’m not. I’m just really tired of hearing it.”

“Wow, you really give me a boost when I need it, don’t you? I should come to you more often!”

“Please go away.”

Donut would happily oblige. Today was the day- Doc was about to learn the truth of his feelings. Here we go, oh, yes, this is it. The day. Donut pretended he wasn’t nervous and strode confidently down the ramp and out of the base. He wished the Blood Gulch humidity would let up; this would go so much more smoothly if he could style his hair and flaunt his most charming smile. Then he’d be irresistible, and Frank DuFresne would fall right into his arms.

Donut rode his fake confidence right into the cave. Nothing to be nervous about- it was Doc, and even if he didn’t reciprocate, he’d still be nice about it. That was part of what Donut liked about him. Frank was always so understanding, and sweet, and comforting, and- alright, Franklin, don’t get carried away.

He reached the place in the caves where Frank stayed and paused. When Frank wasn’t immediately apparent, it made Donut a little nervous- but then he came out from an alcove in the rock, adjusting a t-shirt he’d evidently just put on.

“Oh, hey, Donut,” Frank greeted him. “I didn’t even hear you come in!”

“I know! I come so quietly!” Wrong word choice for the occasion. Need to work on that. Moving forward. “So, Frank, I needed to talk to you about something.”

Frank had been about to sit down to some paperwork, but looked up at this, concern lifting his eyebrows. “Are you okay? Is it a medical problem?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Donut said, suavely sliding into the nearest seat and propping his head on his fist. If he just had his helmet off- he could do perfect puppy dog eyes- but his flipping hair would look so awful. Now it would be helmet hair on top of unstyled and frizzy from humidity. God, hitting on someone was so much easier outside of this canyon. “It’s a bit more personal.”

“Oh. Well, I’m not really a psychologist-” “No, Doc,” Donut interrupted, feigning a laugh. “It’s not that serious. Come sit down.”

Frank obliged, sitting in the seat across from Donut and facing him with open, friendly brown eyes. And dammit, those brown eyes just muddled Donut’s brain! How was he supposed to think when faced with such pretty eyes?

“Okay,” Donut said, steadying himself. Focus on the mission, D. “So, I was thinking about maybe setting up a nice candlelit dinner on the roof of the base, say, around sunset, and thought maybe you’d like to come along.”

“Oh,” Frank said, surprise curving his lips to a smile. Finally! Donut thought, smiling behind his visor. “Well, I actually have a lot of paperwork to do, I’m sorry. I don’t really have time for a party.”

Paperwork? Did he just get rejected!? But then the rest of Frank’s sentence processed- a party. Damn- he’d completely missed that it was supposed to be a date!

“Oh, well, it was just a small thing anyway,” Donut said, recovering quickly. “Maybe some other time? Add a little mood music, watch the sun set, maybe put on some nice clothes…?”

Frank glanced down at himself. “Oh, I- that sounds nice and everything- but all I really have is my PT clothes and my armor.”

Donut suppressed a frustrated and overdramatic groan. Just say yes! “Oh, well, that’s fine. You don’t have to dress up. Just- be there or be square! I’ll plan another time and let you know when, okay?”

Donut rose from the table as Frank smiled and said, “Thanks! Sorry to be an inconvenience-”

“You’re not,” Donut assured him quickly. He strode out of the cave embarrassed and frustrated. How had he messed that up so badly!? Maybe he was out of practice? Sent out the wrong signals? A party- as if any of the uncultured swines in this canyon could appreciate a candlelit picnic!

---

The next day, Donut owed Grif the world. He’d finally convinced Grif to feign illness- surprisingly easy once Donut implied Sarge might give him the day off- to get Frank down to the base so Donut could talk to him again. Grif moaned and groaned from his bed as Simmons let out an exasperated huff and headed out for double-duty. (Donut couldn’t help Simmons, obviously, because Grif was dying and needed a nurse-maid, and really, wasn’t Donut best suited for that?)

“I heard you’re dying?”

Frank walked into Grif’s mess of a room to find Donut, in PT clothes since it was, really, all he had besides his armor, too, hair styled, perched on the edge of Grif’s bed. Donut flipped the cold rag he held to Grif’s forehead.

“He seemed pretty ill,” Donut said, voice dripping sympathy. “I gave him some chamomile tea and had him eat some soup with peppers in it. Have you had my chicken soup, Doc? It’s a miracle-worker, really. I think you’d like it. Maybe we should eat some together sometime…?”

Frank chuckled as he walked in and knelt next to Grif’s bed. “Is there something wrong with my diet? This is the second time you’ve tried to convince me to eat something else.”

OH MY- this oblivious idiot! Donut couldn’t believe this was the guy driving him this crazy. But then he saw Frank skillfully check Grif’s all vitals in about a whole minute and remembered Frank’s power of observation was uncanny. Except in social situations. Maybe- oh god, Donut didn’t even want to think it- maybe Frank was…

Straight.

Donut suppressed a shudder. No, that couldn’t be it. He’d just have to be more direct.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, since you’re the more competent doctor,” Donut said, rising to his feet.

“I’m not actually a doctor, I’m a medic-”

“Oh, just take a compliment!”

Donut excused himself with a quick smile and left to pace the halls. Dammit, why wasn’t this working!? He would have to just- just come out and say it- the truth, the full truth, nothing but the truth. He mentally prepped as Frank finished up checking Grif, and when the medic emerged from Grif’s room, Donut paused his pacing and waited for Frank to approach.

“He’s alright, probably just a cold,” Frank said. “Which doesn’t make sense in this canyon, but… What do I know.”

Not how to take a hint. Donut smiled. “Oh, good! So he’ll be fine?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s probably mostly faking it.”

“Good! Hey, Doc, I wanted to tell you something.”

He longed to reach and take Frank’s hand, and settled on laying his hand on Frank’s upper arm. Medics have muscles? Really? Even pacifists? Donut wouldn’t complain.

“Oh, what is it?”

“I really like you,” Donut said, relieved to finally have the truth out. “A lot.”

“Oh- oh, I like you, too, Donut.”

His heart sang. “Really!?”

“Yeah! You have great style and you’re great to talk to. I’m really glad we’re friends!”

Holy shit!

“Anyway, call me if you need anything.”

Frank walked out of the base and Donut watched him go, stunned, a smile frozen on his face. Holy shit. That just happened. Dear God. Was there no salvation for him?

“Dude.” Grif’s head appeared in his doorway. “Ice. Cold.”

---

There was only one thing more direct than Donut outright saying he liked Frank to his face. His heart pounded as he lounged on his bed, propped on his elbow, constantly readjusting his legs. Frank had said if he needed anything to call, and he needed Frank to understand how he felt.

So he was laying naked on his bed after calling Frank to come back down to Red Base. Day three of Operation: Confess Love to Doc. Day three mustn’t be a failure.

How did women make this look sexy in movies? Donut had no idea what to do with his legs. Cross them? Bend them? Straight out? One bent, one straight?

And just like that, he chickened out.

Sheer idiocy had driven him to this point. He had to face it: Frank was straight, or wasn’t, but definitely wasn’t interested. Donut’s best work on his hair had meant nothing. And if outright saying I really like you a lot didn’t drop a hint, then it’s because the other person wasn’t looking to pick up hints. And honestly- presenting himself naked? What a whore move. And honestly, if Frank wasn’t interested, then that made Donut a creep and a pervert, and he wasn’t down for that. It had been a stupid idea. It had been a Tucker-quality idea. And Donut was better than Tucker-quality ideas.

Donut pulled on his underwear, pulled on his shorts, tugged a shirt back on, and collapsed onto his bunk, arms folded under his head, face to the wall. The operation had failed, and Operation: Mope Until You Absolutely Have To Get The Fuck Over It began.

The door to his room opened and he heard Frank’s painfully familiar voice, “Donut? You called?” He sounded a little more concerned than he should’ve been. “Is it an emergency? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Donut mumbled from his pillow. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You sounded pretty desperate on the phone.”

Donut snorted. Of course he did. Only someone truly desperate would attempt what he almost did. “It’s fine now. Sorry to bother you.”

“You never bother me. We- we’re friends.” Frank sat on the edge of the bed and Donut winced at his closeness. That wasn’t helping Operation: Mope Until- he really needed an acronym- Operation: MUYAHTGTFOI. “Donut, what’s going on? You seem kinda depressed.”

Donut sighed and rolled over onto his back, reluctantly facing Frank (and messing up his hair). “I’ve been trying to tell you for three days that I like you. As more than a friend. And I thought you’d pick up on it, after all the subtle flirting for the past six months, but then you didn’t, and I thought, God, I must be an idiot, you probably didn’t even feel that way- especially if you didn’t notice-”

“Wait, what? You like me!?”

Donut paused. “Uh- duh?”

“Holy shit!”

And it was a very different tone than yesterday when Donut thought Frank friend-zoned him. Donut’s jaw dropped. He leaned up on an elbow, eyebrows rocketing up. “You really didn’t know!?”

“What, no! You’re the hottest guy here, I didn’t think I stood a chance!”

“What the fudge! I couldn’t have made it more obvious!”

“Couldn’t have- Donut, I had no idea! I didn’t even know you liked guys!”

Donut dropped back onto the bed, scrunching his hands over his face. “Oh, my God, you’re oblivious!” He threw his hands off his face to send another incredulous expression to Frank. “How did you not know I like guys!? I speak exclusively in gay double-entendres!”

“Not as much around me- I just thought you did that piss off homophobes!”

“Wait, wait, wait, okay, hold up.” Donut ran his hands over his face, and then half-sat up again, running a quick hand through his hair to smooth it. “So- does this- does this mean you like me?”

“Uh- duh?”

“Well, what the frick! Let’s go on a date! Candlelit picnic? My place? Around sunset?”

“That was you asking me on a date?”

“How many non-romantic candlelit picnics at sunset have you been on?” Donut deadpanned, 1000% done.

“Good point.”

Donut sat up, laughter bubbling out, mirthful and exasperated. “Alright- so, I’ll see you tonight. This is way better than how I saw any of this going an hour ago.”

“What did you see an hour ago?”

“Oh- nothing. Let’s not talk about that. So, sunset? Sound good?”

Frank just laughed. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“You know it’s a date, right? Like the romantic kind?”

“Yeah, I get it now-”

“I might try to kiss you, not as friends-”

“Okay, Donut, I get-”

“It’s not platonic.” “I get it now, okay!?”

Donut laughed and kissed Frank’s cheek. “Okay.”

[bforeverloverly]

Getting Warmer

Carisi takes up knitting and everyone gets a new scarf. Everyone except Barba. Not that he cares. Not at all.

*

“Is that…Carisi are you knitting?”

Barba had stopped by the precinct with some paperwork for Liv only to find the squad room quiet and Carisi knitting at his desk, colorful yarn looping over and over between bright yellow needles.

“Yeah.” Carisi barely spares him a glance as he concentrates. “Took it up recently. It’s surprisingly relaxing.” He looks up with a smirk. “Problem, counselor?”

Barba shakes his head and huffs. “None. I came by to give these to Liv.” He waves the file, tearing his gaze away from the long, dexterous fingers working the needles to glance at Liv’s dark office.

“She just left. You can leave them here.”

“Hmm.” He drops the files on Carisi’s desk. “Since you’re so busy, I’ll leave you to it.” His voice holds its usual sarcasm but somehow lacks the bite. He hovers there for a moment before shaking himself and making for the exit.

“Have a good night, counselor.” Carisi’s voice echoes behind him and he shivers involuntarily as the elevator doors close.

The next time he and Liv meet for drinks during a case she has on a soft blue scarf. It’s new and it’s knitted. He stares at it as she wraps it around her neck but says nothing.

He leaves the bar trying not to think about soft blue eyes that always find him and follow him and haunt his dreams.

He sees Fin at the courthouse during trial prep. Fin removes his leather jacket and new gray scarf that Barba keeps his back to the whole time. He stares at it as they say their goodbyes but says nothing. He grits his teeth.

He leaves the courthouse trying not think about blond hair slightly graying at the temples and how it would feel beneath his fingertips.

 Rollins stops by to update him on a case and he blinks at the new red scarf she’s wearing. He barely hears her and makes some excuse to cut her off. In the elevator, his fists clench at his sides.

He leaves his office trying not to think about rosy cheeks and how far down that flushed skin might go.

It’s well past office hours when Carmen knocks at his door. “I’m heading out, sir.”

Barba makes a noncommittal noise and glances up briefly from his work, only to do a double take. He stares at the burnt orange scarf Carmen has just finished tying into a fashionable knot.

Something inside him burns. “Nice scarf.”

Carmen looks down at it and then back at him. “Oh, thank you.” Her smile is knowing. “It was a gift.”

He grips the pen in his hand. He tries to keep his tone neutral but it comes out clipped anyway.  “Mmhmm. Goodnight, Carmen.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Barba.” He can hear the humor in her voice but she’s gone before he can fire her.

Dios mio, what is wrong with him?

He tosses the pen aside and covers his face with his hands. He thinks about the burnt orange scarf the color of Fall leaves and is suddenly struck with a memory. Central Park, last Fall. He and the squad gathered for Noah’s birthday.

Sonny Carisi, sitting next to him on a bench, his arm draped over the back…just inches from him. He has one leg crossed over the other. He isn’t looking at Barba. He’s watching Noah and Jesse play and he’s smiling, his silhouette (soft blue eyes and graying-blond hair and rosy cheeks) is framed by burnt orange leaves and Barba can’t look away.

Another memory appears of strong hands working bright yellow knitting needles and with it the feeling of not only wanting those hands on him, but wanting to take them and map every bone and line. To entwine those long fingers with his and hold on.

And now, sitting in his office the realization hits him so hard it overwhelms his senses all at once. His breath hitches and his heart twists and his stomach swoops. He sits back in his chair, rocking slightly. He thinks he probably looks a little crazy because he certainly feels it. He eyes the cabinet of his desk that holds his bottle of scotch, thinks about reaching for it.

He reaches for his phone instead.

What do I have to do to get one of these scarves, Carisi?

Barba feels like a fool. He hits send anyway.

He stares at the text and after a moment sees the little bubbles of reply pop up on his screen. They come and go for almost 10 minutes with no reply and Barba’s hand is cramping from gripping his phone and his heart rate is probably through the roof and damn it he is a fool…

A knock on his door makes him jerk his head up. Sonny Carisi is leaning against his door frame, a small smile quirking his lips and a gift bag in his hand.

Rafael exhales sharply through his nose and drops his phone. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He watches as Sonny pushes off the door to stand at his desk. He’s still smiling and the air in the room shifts as he places the gift bag in front of him.

“For you, counselor.”

Rafael stares at the bag, stares up at Sonny through his lashes. Sonny’s hands are in his pockets, like he’s trying not to fidget.

Slowly, Rafael stands and reaches for the bag. He peers inside, reaching in to remove a bundle wrapped in tissue paper. He unwraps it slowly until the bundle unravels in his hands.

The scarf is numerous shades of green and ridiculously soft. The crisscross pattern looks complicated and Rafael walks around his desk and past Sonny so he can see it in better light. He holds it gently, eyes roving over every loop until they stop at the end where his initials are stitched in black thread.

He’s overwhelmed again by short breath and twisting heart and swooping stomach.

He’s smiling when he turns back to the strong, generous man before him and he finally finds his voice. “Sonny, it’s…” he searches for words. Wonderful. Lovely. Perfect. None of them fits. He looks down at it again and can only manage a soft “Thank you.”

Sonny ducks his head and takes a step forward. “For the record, I started this one a while ago. I just…I uh…” He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “I couldn’t get the shade quite right.”

Rafael strokes the material with his thumb. “Shade?” He asks.

“Of your eyes.”

Rafael snaps his head up to look at Sonny, who grins and shrugs sheepishly at him as if his revelation was completely obvious. And, if Rafael is being honest, it always has been. Rafael is about to toss the damned scarf over his shoulder and kiss Sonny senseless, because if Rafael is being honest, this was never really about a scarf, but the detective steps away from him and starts pacing.

Pacing and babbling.

“Ya know knitting isn’t as easy as you might think. There’s a lot of work that goes into it. A lot of things that have to be worked out. Ya know…it starts with separate pieces and the patterns can get complicated depending on which you choose and how patient you are and in the end it could be a real mess or it could be something really beautiful or hell, it could be both at the same time but…my point is that it still…it still fits…”

Sonny suddenly stops pacing and stands in front of Rafael again, taking the scarf from his hands to wrap it tenderly around his neck, tugging the ends until they are even. He doesn’t let go. He sighs and finally looks up at Rafael. “This fits.”

Rafael gives him a slow smile, warmth that has nothing to do with the scarf blooming in his chest. There was no point denying anything now. Sonny Carisi makes a damned good argument and a damned good scarf and Rafael was absolute putty in his strong, dexterous hands. “Are we still talking about the scarf, Sonny?”

Sonny’s eyes are shining, and Rafael is so lost he doesn’t even notice Sonny tugging again until they’re nose to nose. “We were never talking about the scarf, Rafael.”

And then Sonny brushes his lips against his, so soft and so slow that Rafael’s breath catches and before he knows it he’s pulling Sonny flush against him, drinking kisses from his mouth like a man dying of thirst. And oh, how parched Rafael has been. He slides his hands under Sonny’s jacket, gripping the fabric of his shirt as he moves Sonny back against his desk.

Sonny releases his hold on the scarf to cup Rafael’s face in his hands, angling for better access as he presses their lips together again and again. “I could…mm…knit you a…hat too…gloves… I could even try a tie…”

“Shut up, Sonny.” Rafael is laughing when he pushes Sonny’s jacket off his shoulders. He doesn’t give a second thought when that damned scarf joins the rest of their clothes on the floor.

Sonny keeps him plenty warm.

[shu-of-the-wind]

foster care au pt iv

pt i   pt ii   pt iii   pt iv

CW for ableism/discussion of ableism, mentions of racism

“Mom—”

“Kitchen,” says Jyn, and accidentally sends a half-written email. “Fuck.”

“You shouldn’t swear,” says Finn, stirring something on the stove. Finn had decided that he was going to learn how to cook about two months into him being placed with her. “Someone in this place should be able to make something edible,” he’d said, when she’d asked why, and—yeah. It’s logical. Jyn feels silly and small for being jealous of the fact that a thirteen year old boy is better at cooking than she is. Then again, she’s also sensible, and if it means Finn keeps cooking (and if it means she gets to see evidence that they’ve both eaten) she’ll gladly sit and supervise while doing other work.

“Don’t start with me,” says Jyn, and Finn smothers a smile behind his wrist.

“Mom!”

“Kitchen!”

Rey’s voice goes high and wheedly at the end. “Mom—”

“Kitchen!”  She whacks at her computer. “Fucking emails—”

“Swearing,” says Finn under his breath. Jyn points at him with a carrot stick.

“I will end you.”

Finn snorts and goes back to fussing with the oregano.

“Mom,” says Rey again, and at least she’s in the door frame this time. Her hair’s wet and tangled, dripping onto the shoulders of her T-shirt. “Your phone—”

“Jyn,” says Jyn.  

“Jyn.” Rey rolls her eyes. “Your phone keeps buzzing. And I finished my homework. And I forgot to give you this earlier, but I was supposed to. Can I play Prey now?”

“What is it?”

“Parent-teacher conference stuff. Mr. Andor told me to give it to you when I came home. I forgot. I had to do everything.” Rey flaps the little blue slip of paper at her until she takes it. On her computer, there’s a ding. New message from: Mara Jade. “Can I play Prey now?”

“Yeah, fine.”

Finn, at the stove, scoffs under his breath.  

Parent-teacher conference notice. A week from yesterday at 4:30pm, and she’s going to have to reschedule her shift at the garage for it but with this much of a cushion she can at least get that done. Mara will be irritated, but Mara’s irritated with everything, and besides, no matter how snippy Mara gets, she’s never once been anything other than cooperative about Finn and Rey’s school obligations.

The signature on the bottom keeps dragging her eyes. Cassian Andor.

Call me, please. Please.

“Hey, Mom—”

“Jyn.”

“Whatever.” When Jyn looks up, Finn’s much closer, and holding a spoon of pasta sauce. It’s been just long enough that the split in his eyebrow has started to heal, the bruises have started to fade. His mouth is almost the proper size again. “Try.”

“You don’t need to feed me.” Still, she takes the spoon, sticks it in her mouth and shuffles papers. In the other room, her phone goes off again; Rey must have turned it off vibrate as a pointed come answer your messages, because now there’s the irritating triple-beep of a text alert echoing through the door frame. She needs to clean, Jesus, the kitchen table is covered with bills and her paperwork and Rey’s homework and half a million other things.

“Does it need salt?” Finn fidgets a bit. “I think it needs salt.”

“You’re asking me?” She tosses the notice onto the stack of homework, and stands. “My pasta sauce is nuclear waste.”

“It needs salt.” He bites at his thumbnail, and then peeks at her. “And maybe more thyme.”

“Do we have thyme?”

“That’s that plant that Bodhi gave you.”

“Oh.” The nice smelling one they keep on the kitchen windowsill. “Up to you.”

“Mom?”

They’re not going to give up on this, tonight. Jyn admits defeat. “Yeah?”

“Do you know Mr. A somehow?”

She absolutely does not choke on the spoon. Jyn shuffles to the fridge, and snags one of the cans of seltzer water that Rey and Finn absolutely won’t touch. “I met him at the back to school fete, remember?”

“No, I mean—” Finn pinches off a bit of thyme, and drops it into the pasta sauce. “You act funny when people mention him, that’s all. And you were acting weird at the fete, too.”

“I was tired.” And I’m not going to tell you any of this, kid. It’s something years in the past, anyway. It’s not like she even had sex with Cassian Andor—that would have made this easier, somehow, because sex is something she can explain away to herself, not like the emotional scorchmarks that night left behind. Nothing happened, and it was years ago, and she’s not explaining any of this to Finn. Or Rey, for that matter. “That’s all.”

His forehead puckers up. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Making a face.”

“There’s no face.” She really ought to go get her phone, but she doesn’t want to leave Finn unsupervised while the stove is on. Jyn compromises, and heads back to her computer instead. Subject Line: Assuming that was only half done. “Did you get one of these notices from your teacher, yet?”

“No. It should come in tomorrow, though.”

“I’ll talk to Mara, then.”

Silence from the stove. When she looks up, Finn is watching her, frowning, thumbnail still caught tight between his teeth.

“You know,” says Jyn, “for a kid, you really shouldn’t look like a drill sergeant.”

“I do not.”

“How’s the pasta?”

“Almost done. Once the noodles are cooked it should be okay.”

Her phone goes off again, and, like clockwork: “Mom, phone!”

“I’m coming.” She snags another carrot stick off the bowl on the table, and points at Finn. “Do not burn the building down.”

“You’ll be gone thirty seconds.”

“Whatever.”

Jyn squeezes Finn’s shoulder, on her way out of the kitchen. He’s not going to let it go, she knows that as well as anybody ever could, but for now, at least, she doesn’t have to think about it.

Wednesday, 4:30pm. Cassian Andor.

“Fuck,” she says under her breath, and goes to grab her phone.

.

.

.

It’s a half-day for all the middle school students at Yavin Prep—for teachers to cram all their PTCs in, she guesses; even a year into it she’s still kind of new to this whole parenting thing, education wise—which means that Finn stays at home when Jyn and Rey head back out for the school to make her conference on time. They could have just stayed at the school, she supposes, but neither of them wanted to, and she can’t blame them for that. They’ve rerouted their walk home, too, to stay within sight of security cameras and after-school staff, and she can’t blame them for that, either. If she could, she’d come and pick them up every day, but working makes that impossible. She’s either on late at Mara’s garage, or working a shift at the Cantina, and neither of those schedules works well for meeting her kids on their way home from school.

Hux hasn’t tried anything since, not that she knows about. Neither has his mother. They’re still waiting to hear back on if Finn will have to be suspended, but considering the circumstances, Jyn very much doubts it. She’s not sure she wouldn’t burn the school down if they tried to punish him for defending himself, so all’s well that ends well.

“Jyn,” says Rey.

“Hm?”

“You’re muttering.”

Jyn flips on the blinker, and stares at the crosswalk. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

The school uniform is a bit too large on Rey. Her sleeves are always dragging just a little around her wrists, like she’s put on a costume. Jyn presses her thumb into the steering wheel, and then shifts to touch Rey’s shoulder. “You’re quiet.”

Rey steals a look at her, and sways. “Thinking.”

“What about?”

She shrugs. “Things.”

Usually with Rey that means anything from talking about Prey (her newest thing, though new in this case means as long as Jyn has known her) to asking random, invasive questions about Jyn’s past to demanding explanations about car engines, so there’s no real way to respond to it other than “Okay.” The traffic light turns red, and Jyn turns into the parking lot of Yavin Prep. “School things?”

“Do you think Armie Hux hates Finn because Finn is a foster kid?” says Rey. “Or because of me?”

Jesus. If there’s something worse than a gut-punch out there, that’s what just happened to Jyn’s stomach. She swallows. “You think he tries to bully Finn because of you?”

Rey shrugs again. Jyn doesn’t know what to say, exactly. She thinks, or tries to, tries to come up with the words, but when she puts the car into park and turns off the engine, she doesn’t have many. Rey undoes her seatbelt, starts to yank at the handle of the door, and Jyn says, “Rey.”

Rey goes still, and peers at her through her lashes.

“Armitage Hux bullies people because Armitage Hux is a bully,” she says. How else can I say this? “It doesn’t have anything to do with you and Finn. He’s just decided to fix on you two because—” because you’re both fosters, maybe, or because you’re the only autistic girl in school, or because Finn is one of four black students and the other three are in the high school division, or a million and one other things, who knows “—because he’s decided. It’s not your fault. Or Finn’s.”

Rey debates that, in her own head. Her hand loosens on the door to the car.

“I don’t understand it,” she says, finally. “If I didn’t do anything, why does he hate me?”

“Sometimes people are just hateful, I guess.” Jyn leans back in her seat. “Like me.”

“You’re not.”

“I don’t like people.”

Rey sets her jaw, mulish. “Because people are stupid.”

Jyn snorts. “Damn right.”

“Don’t swear.”

“I do what I want, kid.” She undoes her car door. “Let’s go in and get this done so we can get home.”

Cassian Andor’s a history teacher—that much, at least, she remembers—so when Rey tugs her down a side corridor towards a series of classrooms marked History & Social Sciences instead of towards the staff rooms, she’s not super surprised. It fits, almost. A classroom instead of the staff room, for a parent-teacher conference. Putting him somewhere he has confidence in, where he’s comfortable. Somewhere she’s never been before. Jyn bites her tongue, and wonders if he did it on purpose.

You study history?

I want to teach it someday.

Really? You don’t seem the type.

Why not?

Too angry about the present.

“This one,” says Rey, and tugs at her sleeve. Jyn almost jumps.

“Right.”

“You okay?”

“Fine,” she says. Freaked. “Are we supposed to wait?”

“Nah,” says Rey, and knocks.

“It’s open,” he says. It’s muffled through the door. “Go ahead.”

Rey, thankfully, doesn’t look back to see Jyn steady herself.

Cassian’s classroom feels like Cassian, she thinks. Or what she remembers of him. A quiet kind of focus, muzzled in fabric, laser-sharp in intent. There are desks, a whiteboard covered in writing, still—a lesson on the Armenian genocide, from the look of it—and a low series of shelves along the wall, some used as cubbies for the students, others just as general bookshelves. A paper pasted to the wall above reads sign out with Mr. A if you want a book. Three world maps, each with different sequences of pushpins jammed into different countries, yarn tied between—the Ottoman Empire? World War One?—and then the teacher’s desk up at the front, two chairs before it like being received into an office.

She hates that he looks tired. She hates that she notices. She shouldn’t notice something that subtle in how his face sits, in how his eyes dart between her and Rey and back again, but she’s always been good at faces, and exhaustion isn’t all that easy to disguise. Cassian takes off a pair of reading glasses, tosses them onto the desktop, and stands. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Rey says, in a bright voice, and dumps her backpack into one of the chairs. “I brought the book back.”

Cassian darts one last look at Jyn before focusing on Rey. Whatever awkward, desperate look he’d had on the steps into the school last week is gone, now, or at the very least obscured. There’s just a teacher, here. Cassian Andor, history and homeroom teacher, purely professional. So get control of yourself. Jyn bites the inside of her cheek, and watches Rey hand the book off. “You only took it out two days ago.”

“I had time, Mr. Antilles was absent yesterday so we had a substitute and she just had us do worksheets.” She drops her backpack onto the floor, this time. “She didn’t even notice I was reading in the back.”

Cassian looks more amused than chagrined as he says, “You should focus in math, you know.”

“It was worksheets, and they were done.”

“Still.”

He’s good with her. Jyn lets it sink in, slowly. Rey doesn’t babble with many people, and it seems like Cassian Andor is one of them, and that should be more of a relief than anything. It is a relief. She’s just having trouble swallowing, on top of it. When Cassian looks up at her, his face shuttering, just a bit, Jyn just nods.

“Rey,” says Jyn, and Rey looks back up at her. “Can you wait outside for a bit?”

Rey looks between her and Cassian, and then says, “Can I take a book with me?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” says Rey, and inspects the wall for a grand total of three minutes before finally snagging a book on the Mexican Revolution and darting back out the door again. “Thanks for agreeing to this timeslot,” he says. He does not offer a hand to shake, thankfully. She’s not sure she could stand that again. “I know it’s awkward.”

Understatement of the century. “It’s fine.” Jyn sinks onto the empty chair, perching on the very edge. “It wound up working out.”

“Originally I was going to have you come in on Friday but then there was a scheduling change.” He stops, suddenly, like he’s realized he’s said too much, and then sits down. “So.”

Jyn says, “So.”

They look at each other across the desktop for a second or two, and then Cassian coughs.

“Primarily this meeting is to talk about Rey’s performance and what we can do to supplement it inside and outside of the classroom, but in my opinion there’s not a great deal left to discuss. Her grades are good. I think she could be working harder in computer science, and so does her teacher—there’s a note, here, if you want to talk more about that, but she has high grades in almost every other class. The primary issue outside of class is her relationships with other students.”

“Like?”

“Obviously considering the last week or two there’s been some blowback, but even before that there hadn’t been a great deal of integration into the classroom, at least not in comparison to what’s optimal.” Cassian leans back in his seat, and goes through a few papers. “Rey keeps to herself. Normally I wouldn’t be overly concerned, considering how close she is with her foster brother, but there’s been a few small difficulties. I don’t know if she’s talked about them at home.”

Jyn unfolds her hands, scrubs her damp palms against her jeans. Why on earth did I think wearing my work shoes would be all right? There’s oil all over the toes. “Rey tends to—not tell me things.”

“Does she think she’ll get in trouble?”

“No.” It comes out harder than she wants it to, but it’s true. Rey knows—or Jyn hopes she knows—that she won’t get in trouble for not having the most active social life. “She—one of her last foster families didn’t react well when she had issues at school. She knows she can talk to me. Sometimes she just doesn’t remember I won’t be angry.”

Cassian scuffs a hand over his stubble, and doesn’t reply right away. He hasn’t quite blinked in the last minute or so. Jyn wonders if he’s trying to work out what to say.

“She doesn’t interact with anyone in her homeroom class,” he says, finally. “And from what I can tell, she doesn’t seem particularly close to anyone in the school, aside from Finn. Like I said, I wouldn’t be too concerned about it—she’s new, and it seems like her home life is a strong support for her, just from what she’s said to me—but some of the other students are ostracizing her.”

It is not acceptable, Jyn tells herself, to want to punch small children. She still does, at least a little.

“It’s not that she’s not friendly, or that she’s had any particular issues with anyone outside of Armitage Hux, and that’s obviously being handled, it’s that the other kids are—not quite sure how to handle her, I think. Whether it’s because some of her behaviors are too unknown to them and they’re not used to her yet, or because of their own preconceptions about children on the spectrum, I’m not sure, but she doesn’t get a lot of interaction with students in any of her classes. She seems all right with it, for the most part, or used to it by now, but I’m—concerned.”

Jyn digests that, slowly. She sweeps hair back out of her eyes. Her knuckles are bruised and torn from getting caught in a motorcycle engine, and she can’t help noticing that Cassian notices. His eyes follow her hand back down to the arm of the chair, and then snap away.

“I was thinking both Rey and Finn might benefit from doing an after-school activity, actually,” he says. “To take Rey out of an academic context and see if she gets along with other students better. I’ve brought it up to her once or twice, but she’s been cagey.”

“I work two jobs,” Jyn blurts, and then feels stupid. “I think—I think she wants me to know that she’s home by a certain time. It helps both of us.”

“Understandable,” says Cassian. “I still think it might help her improve socially in the classroom, if she has a place to relax and do something interesting to her with other kids around. The robotics team might be good, but that’s intensive, and as good as she is at math, it’d probably be better to ease her into something more interactive, considering she’s had so many changes in her life over the years.”

That’s one way of saying she’d had twelve foster families in four years, Jyn thinks, but she wets her lips and keeps it between her teeth. “She’s probably told you, but she likes history. And science fiction. And—learning about the world, I suppose. I don’t—know too much about what the school offers for extracurricular stuff along those lines, but—”

Cassian’s eyes flicker again, and Jyn stops. He’s quiet, debating, before he says, “There’s a history club.”

“History club?”

“Yeah.” He hesitates. “We’re not too highly ranked, at the moment—there’s another private school that goes to nationals every year—but it’s a tight-knit group of kids. Rose Tico, from Finn’s history class, is in it as well. I think I’ve seen her and Rey talking, once or twice. A handful of other students. I—didn’t want to suggest it immediately, I wanted your input, but—”

“It might work.”

“I run it,” Cassian says, after an even longer pause. “I don’t know if that’s a dealbreaker.”

There’s something there that she can’t afford to chase, right now. Jyn says, “You’re her favorite teacher. I’m sure she’d be fine with it.”

They look at each other again, in silence. Jyn almost says, Thank you for caring about my kids. She keeps her mouth shut tight on that.  

“What else do we have to talk about?”  

[toomanyfeelings5]

happy, part 3

closeted lesbian rosamund fic continues!

part 2 is here, which also links to part 1. 

fic title is based on mitski’s song “happy,” which is 80% of the reason why i’m writing this fic tbh.

i decided that rosamund goes to the real-life all-girl private prep school Miss Porter’s School, and everything i write about it is based on Wikipedia and Google images, so apologies for the various inaccuracies. (let’s say middlemarch is near farmington or something, idk, shrugs.) 

here’s more of the fic!

5. after her student council meeting about graduation caps, the yearbook committee emergency over font size, and varsity tennis practice, rosamund wants nothing more than to go to sleep, AP physics and AP comp-sci and AP studio art and all of her honors classes be damned.

she gets a text from chris: wanna hang out? ;) 

rosamund sighs as she gets in her car. fred will be extra dramatic if she’s late to pick him up at his school again, so she just replies, busy tonight. another time. <3 <3 xoxo

she drives home, ignoring fred chattering away about seeing max over the weekend– don’t they see enough of each other during play rehearsals?–and she barely says hello to mother and father before yawning.

“had a long day?” father asks, looking up from his paperwork. he’s home for the weekend before going on another business trip. he has more gray in his brown hair now. rosamund blinks. when did that happen?

“yes,” she responds after another yawn, backpack straining her shoulders. “yeah, it’s been...a lot to deal with.”

“well, just be thankful you don’t have to fly to hong kong at 5am on monday.” 

rosamund knows he thinks he’s joking, but a flash of irritation makes her grit her teeth. “yes. of course.”

mother interjects before father can even raise an eyebrow, blessedly tactful as always. “miss porter’s is making sure you get a proper education, isn’t it? still, best to relax now. just be down for dinner at 7pm, sweetheart.”

rosamund smiles, inhaling the smell of pot roast. “thank you, mother.”

fred, too busy texting max to have paid much attention, looks up from his phone. “it’s still weird to hear you talk like that.”

rosamund rolls her eyes. “miss porter’s school expects only the best etiquette and manners from all of its girls, frederick.”

“so why’d you roll your eyes? isn’t that rude?”

rosamund feels a smile tug on the edge of her mouth despite herself. “no, that’s called being your sister.”

fred rolls his eyes right back, and wanders into his own disaster of a room to do whatever it is he does in there.

rosamund collapses on her bed when she gets to her own room, backpack carefully put on the floor. she’ll do her work later. first she just needs to close her eyes for one...two...maybe five seconds...

her phone buzzes. 

she focuses on breathing deeply, letting all of her thoughts drift away...jessica needs to work on her backhand, she nearly hit valerie today with that awful swing...coach was not happy, and she’s going to give me an earful if i don’t get them in line...

her phone buzzes again.

brianna needs to stop worrying so much about font size, the one she’d picked looks perfect...rebecca needs to understand that she is the vice-president of student council, not the president...i didn’t spend hours making posters and thinking up a clever slogan for nothing...

her phone buzzes a third time.

rosamund curses under her breath-- “chris,” she mumbles to herself, “what is it--?”

but it’s not chris. it’s valerie from tennis. 

her phone reads: hi, rosamund! sorry if i’m bothering you, but do you have a second? 

next text: rosamund? are you there?

latest text: i’m so sorry, i’ll leave you alone. i don’t mean to be such a bother. see you on monday at practice!! 

rosamund frowns. valerie has a nervous disposition on the best of days, but even she isn’t usually this apologetic. rosamund texts back, i apologize for not responding sooner, valerie. is there a problem? are you hurt from practice today? 

a few seconds later: no it’s nothing like that, i’m fine haha! :) i just figured you’re the captain and everything, and we’re friends, right??

rosamund’s frown deepens. sure, they’re friendly, and yes, they hang out together outside of tennis sometimes, but what is valerie really trying to say? yes, she texts back after a moment, of course we’re friends. 

five minutes go by. rosamund tries not to worry too much. maybe valerie needs to skip next week’s game, maybe she just wants to get a manicure together, maybe--

then: is it ok if i call you? 

certainly, rosamund responds immediately, tiredness abating in the face of such odd messages. 

her phone rings, she picks up, and there’s a second of static before valerie’s nervous, warbling voice finally says, “thank you so much, rosamund. sorry that this is so sudden, it’s just, it’s easier if i talk about it--”

“it’s fine,” rosamund reassures, because if she doesn’t politely interrupt now then valerie will never stop rambling. “what do you want to talk about?”

“ok,” valerie manages, sounding so small even through the phone. “ok, so i haven’t told anyone else yet, and you’re so calm and put-together and everything, and i--i need to tell someone else, and i really...”

silence for a few seconds. 

“val,” rosamund says firmly, “i’m your tennis captain. you can tell me anything. it’s what i’m here for. that, and getting you all in shape for the game next week.”

valerie giggles, high-pitched and off-key. “you’re right, you’re so right. ok, so, i guess i’ll just say it. ok. here goes, here goes, i can do this, i can do this i can do this--i’m a lesbian.”

“oh,” rosamund says after a long moment--valerie had said it in such a rush, she had hardly heard her-- her mouth is oddly dry. “alright.”

“are...are you ok with that?”

the fear in valerie’s voice is familiar. rosamund thinks fleetingly of flowers on cakes. 

she takes a deep breath. “yes, of course i’m ok with that. my brother’s gay.”

a beat. “really?”

“really.”

rosamund can practically hear valerie’s smile as she bursts out, “that’s so cool! thank you so, so much rosamumd, it--it means a lot. and, um, if you don’t mind--please don’t tell anyone else.”

“cross my heart,” rosamund says, and valerie says a thousand more thank yous before finally hanging up.

rosamund holds her phone to her ear for a long time. it’s not on purpose. she just has a lot of things to think about. 

she’s the first person valerie has ever come out to. valerie is the first lesbian rosamund has ever met. 

a part of rosamund feels like she’s 11 again, standing in fred’s room after his birthday party. there are too many questions jangling around in her brain. she feels oddly excited about it all--her teammates trust her, valerie trusts her, but it’s more than that too, it’s like she almost feels--

rosamund texts chris, i have soooooo much hw to do, but i really want to see you. :) i’m free next weekend. does that saturday work for you? 

chris gets back to her immediately: definitely! my parents won’t be home ;) <3

rosamund elects to ignore the winky face, as she has done since they started dating sophomore year. fantastic. love you. see you soon xoxo~

texting her boyfriend should make her feel less jittery about valerie being a lesbian, right? spending time with chris should make her feel good and safe and whole, right? right. rosamund thinks about his calloused hands, the freckles on his shoulders, and the way he snorts when he hears a bad joke until the questions and the nervous excitement and the static in her head go away. 

still. it takes her until midnight to finish her homework, and she can’t sleep afterwards. so much for being tired. 

valerie beams at her in the hallway the next morning. rosamund smiles back, polite and composed. 

“hi, rosamund!” valerie calls, waving her arm and everything. 

“...hi, val,” rosamund replies, trying to edge away from the other girl and towards AP comp-sci. who knew juniors could be so energetic? “i’m busy right now, sorry, but later--?”

“oh, yeah,” valerie says, practically vibrating with excitement. “yeah, totally, but i just, um--d’you want to go to a, like--”

“valerie, i really need to get to class--”

“d’you want to go to a GSA meeting with me? next week?”

rosamund nearly flinches. thankfully, miss porter’s has taught her better. “what? why are you asking me that?”

valerie holds up her hands, voice almost squeaking. “sorry! sorry, i should’ve said--i know it’s a really small club, but i’m kind of scared to go by myself, and you said you’d be there for the team and everything, so i thought--i thought--”

“i have to go to class,” rosamund says smoothly. “i’m sorry, val, but i’m not like that. see you at practice.”

she doesn’t look back, just keeps walking, she needs to get to class on time, she has to stop thinking about valerie and the GSA and every other distraction--she doesn’t mind them, of course, but it’s not like she’s one of them, why would valerie even ask that, doesn’t she know that rosamund has a reputation to maintain, that she can’t be controversial--?

rosamund doesn’t realize her hands are shaking until she tries to take notes. 

valerie doesn’t ask her any more questions. 

6. “are you sure?”

rosamund should be excited, rosamund should be ecstatic, rosamund should feel like all of her girlhood dreams are coming true--

they’re watching casablanca. chris loves it because he loves old movies, and rosamund loves it because it’s a romance, and it was the first movie they’d watched together as a couple, and she hears, “here’s lookin’ at you kid,” and chris is staring at her, and he’s tucking her hair behind her ear and she loves him, she does, she loves him so much--

“rosamund? are you sure about this?”

his hand is on the remote, ready to pause the movie. his green eyes are dark and wanting. he’s already smiling, like he doesn’t really need to ask anymore, like he knows exactly what she’s going to say. who is she to deny him? they’ve been dating for three years, they’re seniors, they love each other--chris might finally be the right guy, the man to sweep her off her feet, he’s so perfect, everyone’s jealous of her at school--

the static doesn’t go away, the fear doesn’t go away, the doubt doesn’t go away, so rosamund kisses him hard, and she just wants--she just wants everything to disappear. being with chris makes her feel safe and right and whole. 

except chris kisses her back, and like always there aren’t any sparks--rosamund thinks of tim, of muhammad, of roberto, of derek, of all the other boys she’s kissed before, and it’s the same. it’s all the same. but--rosamund tangles her hands in chris’s curly hair, feels his big hands cup her face--but this has to be different, this has to be special--she’s going to make it different. she’s going to make it special. she is. 

she never answers chris’s question. 

she pretends to have an orgasm, she pretends to like it, she pretends--

maybe it’s the stress of exams and meetings and graduation. maybe this is how everyone’s first time is supposed to be like; her friends have all told her that it’s never perfect the first time, just keep trying, keep at it-- “you two lovebirds will figure it out eventually.” 

maybe--rosamund stares at the ceiling, listens to chris’s contended snores, bites her lip until it bleeds, tastes the blood--her skin itches, she doesn’t feel entirely real--maybe chris isn’t the right guy after all. 

[calypsoff]

Seventy Four. Part 3

Useless, that is what I am because I don’t know what the hell I am doing “Twin, hey” crouching down to her “I’m gonna lose my baby Chris, she can’t breathe, she’s not getting the air. What am I going to do please, help oh my god” she sobbed out with her whole heart, and I just felt the stabbing pain in my heart, I am hurting with her “I’m sorry, I am so sorry Robyn, I wish I could understand more of what they are doing but I don’t, they are trying their best, I promise they are. It will be ok, we will get there” now she is making me cry, wiping the tears as I got up “hi Miss Fenty-Brown we need you to sign this paperwork because of the C-section” I know this midwife ain’t throwing paperwork in my wife face like this “aye” snatching the paperwork from her “y’all beginning to piss me off, you are saying all this shit but ain’t saying what we doing. You are stressing my fucking wife out, I ain’t playing around. What does this shit even say!? You are making her sign it for what!?” I shouted “sir I know you are upset but we need this consent signing, it’s nothing bad. It’s an emergency, things like this we can’t predict. Everything was fine until she rested on the cord and now she is sunny side up we need to get her out. We promise we have the best team here to help her, so please sign this” she pleaded with an emotional Robyn that is a broken woman, I am hurting for her “sunny side up! What is my daughter? An egg?” The midwife is sick of me clearly “it’s when the baby is facing head down but but facing the abdomen which can lead to a lot of tearing. The baby is distressed currently” this is fucked up “give me, I’ll sign it” Robyn managed to say “please, I want my baby alive. Please” she signed the document “I can’t lose her, not after everything” all I am worried about is my wife, I can’t lose her “we will be preparing you for birth” the lady walked out “it’s going to be ok Robyn, I pray and promise you I am going to be here” holding Robyn’ hand “I know; I get it why you’re scared” this is a mess.

Robyn hasn’t let go of my hand, there is doctors coming in and out just checking. They tried to make my daughter move; she wouldn’t I mean. She’s Robyn’ daughter, she’s stubborn “we have tried to divert with not doing a c-section, but we need too, she is not moving. We tried everything” nodding my head “she gets it from her mother, the stubborn trait that is” hearing little sobs from Robyn, she’s so sad “yes but please Robyn, we are doing our best and we have the plastic surgeon here with us so we can keep scaring minimal” Audrey said pointing at the guy stood there looking “I don’t care, please save my baby. Please” she pleaded “and we will, meet you at theatre. Call the porter and get scrubs for the father” Audrey walked out saying to the midwife, sitting down on the chair sighing out with Robyn’ hand in mine, I closed my eyes and prayed, praying to God for my wife and my child to be safe “amen” I said looking up, my phone buzzed in my pocket. With my free hand I got my phone out, I need prayers and I need people to pray for my family right now, Mel had text me, but I don’t have the strength to be telling her bad news. Tapping on my Instagram and adding to my IG story, taking a picture of Robyn and I hands together, Robyn’ knuckles are going white she is really holding onto my hand that right, adding a caption ‘pray for us’ pressing send “Robyn, I am going to tell the parents ok? I will be quick” getting up from the chair “be quick, I am so scared” nodding my head, walking around the bed “Mr Brown?” This lady came into the room “yeah?” A little confused “we need to get you ready to go into theatre with Robyn” I paused knowing I need to tell them “I really need to tell the grandparents, I will be back” walking around her to leave the home, I rushed out of the room and turned the corner and I just stopped. Emotions just hit me, I am so scared for my daughter and Robyn. Wiping the tear that fell and continued onto the room, I need to let them know at least.

Walking into the waiting room and I was shook, like I didn’t expect Ronald to be here but he is “erm, when did you come?” I questioned “as soon as I heard, can I see my daughter?” Shaking my head “I got some news” closing the door “please say she is ok” Monica’ tone and face changed, great concern all over her face “she’s been struggling with pain and she is having epidural which calmed the pain down, the midwife came back after a while and everything seemed to have gone calm for us both just waiting for her arrival” my voice broke “they said the baby is sunny side up and she is on her cord, she’s not getting enough oxygen and her heartbeat is not good, the rate is falling. They are doing an emergency c-section and I needed to tell you all. She is really struggling, and I just need y’all to be strong and pray” that was it, of course I am going to cry “can I see her” looking up and Monica she is right infront of me “I think it’s best if we give them space, be strong for her Chris. Let them do this together” my mother said “be strong Chris, she will be ok. She is in the best hands, be strong son and there for her. It’s best we don’t stress Robyn out anymore then she is, she doesn’t need to see your face, she will cry” my mom said to Monica, I feel bad that she is crying “you go” licking my top lip “can you inform others please, if they ask” I need to go, turning back on myself leaving the room. Rubbing my head, I am a mess mentally. I am just scared, anything can go wrong like that so anything could happen to Robyn when giving birth, that can happen so now I am scared that it can “please god” I said to myself.

There is still plenty of doctors here and around, they are just watching the monitors constantly clearly “we are moving you now down to theatre, the operating room is now prepped. The porters are here to take you” the midwife said “once we get down, Chris you need to put on scrubs before we enter and we will help you with that but if you would like to follow us” nodding my head going over to Robyn “how are you?” She looks so exhausted “devastated, just stay close” I swallowed hard “if you can step out first Mr Brown” I guess I am in the way “we have cleared the hallway, nobody will see” the midwife reassured, I thought they would have put Robyn in a wheelchair, but they didn’t. They are taking the whole bed, no wonder they needed a porter. Stepping back of course “are we ok to move her? Monitors ok” rubbing my forehead feeling frustrated “why did they not put her in a wheelchair?” I asked the midwife “we just don’t want to move Robyn, the baby is stressed because of the mother being stressed and we do not want the baby the put more pressure on the cord then she already is” watching them all come out with Robyn in the bed, it killed me so much. I really hate hospitals “follow us” the midwife said, I hate this.

Walking out with the scrubs on, I did everything I had to do in regards to cleaning my arms and everything “we will put your clothes back in the room ok? We have prepared Robyn while you have been changing, we are keeping a close monitor on Robyn, we have got the best plastic surgeon. It will be minimal, we have the best care and team, they are all here” she is saying it but I just feel unsafe “why did she turn though, I don’t get it. she was right there being ok” I am annoyed at my child that isn’t even here “pregnancy and giving birth is difficult as it is but things like this do happen, ready?” nodding my head, the midwife is nice, but I was just angry “sorry about earlier, to see my wife in that state. I was scared, still is” she held the door open “emotions get the best of us, it’s fine” walking into the operating room, there is a lot of doctors. She was so right in saying that they are crowding around her. Rushing over to Robyn “hey” holding her hand “you look nice” she laughed “suits me yeah?” she is smiling at me “possibly” feeling a pair of hands on my sides “sit on this” looking behind me, sitting down on the stool at the side of Robyn “are we all ready? You won’t feel a thing, maybe some tugging but for now we will be putting the curtain up. Just relax” Audrey said, and she meant it, they put a curtain up, but the midwife stood with us just behind.

Doctors talk a lot of things; can’t they just speak English instead of these words “what you thinking?” Robyn asked me, looking down at her grinning “what the fuck, honestly. Too many emotions, you know. It’s not about me though Robyn, it’s about you. Can you feel anything?” I have to ask, just because the doctor said she wouldn’t “nothing at all” nodding my head “if I was your doctor would you do me?” Robyn laughed “you’re so stupid erm, I would be talking about you to my friends yes. You look like you have a brain with this on” she is so rude “well I would do me” I winked at her “of course you would say that about yourself, self-centred ass. I remembered what you said earlier, this is my child, you got problems if she is like me” rolling my eyes “I do, but I wouldn’t change you for the world, so I don’t care. You’re the best, women in general are amazing but you, you’re a gem” Robyn scrunched up her face “you’re being too kind why? What do you want huh? You can now keep your dick to yourself, not going to lie. Captain is a lie, it’s one baby and done. No way are we having any amount that is four, no sir” I chuckled “you can’t resist sex now, please” she is fronting “oh I can, I am never turned on with you” she is just being rude now “lies, stop speaking. You will regret it” pressing a kiss to the back of her hand “why don’t you sing while this is happening?” Robyn eyed me “don’t make me pop you in the face” I laughed “I would like Pon de replay?” I laughed “shut up, seriously” she doesn’t want to hear me “your stomach was so flat, like I remember watching it and I am like damn. She got a body, mhmmm” she is going to cuss me out “leave!” she spat, let me be quiet.

I am not even sure if they are pumping Robyn with more medication, but she is doped up “what is happening” she slurred out, that is a good question “you will feel tugging, they are just getting to her now” I want to look behind the curtain “I think you should look this way” the midwife placed her hands on my shoulders “you feel tugging?” I questioned “yeah, I am just so out of it” placing my hand just above her head “you are doing amazing” a tear dropped from her eye “I failed, I didn’t do it natural” my thumb lightly grazing her forehead and my face close to hers “you didn’t, you did everything you could for her” this is long, I don’t like that Robyn is very negative about how she been through this but she couldn’t have predicted the baby laying on the cord “what is happening? Like is she here?” I am confused, it is quiet but with a lot of doctor talk “I feel tugging again, a lot” Robyn said, I am wondering how that even feels “here we are, she is here Robyn” Audrey spoke out, I just generally shot up in a gasp, just because she said there she is. Walking away from Robyn and around the curtain because that is me I gagged seeing the bloodbath to me “cut the cord” Audrey said, my eyes laid on this lifeless baby. Everything just felt slow motion to me, so much is happening that I stumbled back “take a deep breath Mr Brown” the midwife caught me “hey, look at me now. Deep breaths” she smiled at me “it’s ok, look at me” nodding my head, I was about to blank out because that is too much.

I snapped out of it “my daughter! Why can’t I hear her!” I stumbled to where the doctors moved too, Robyn’ voice just snapping me out of it “check her pulse” seeing my daughter just lifeless on the bed as this doctor started doing chest compressions “oh no, man. Come on” this can’t be, the room is awfully quiet as the only person you hear is the doctor doing the compressions, I feel my heart breaking slowly by slowly every second she isn’t doing anything “come on, please” I am shaking, I have never felt so scared in my life “check her pulse again” staring at my daughter intently “please god” I breathed out “please” I sobbed out looking up to the ceiling losing every slight of hope but the doctor is still continuing “there we are, hey. Welcome to the world, well done team” bringing my head forward and then hearing my daughter cry, I breathed a sight of relief but now I feel emotional again “oh man, oh my god” placing my hands over my face, I have never been do fearful in my life. I am so emotionally drained “my wife” it came to me, I just left Robyn. My daughter is crying, she is in good hands “she is ok, she is ok” the midwife stood to the side, she remained with Robyn when I left Robyn “you did it Robyn” of course Robyn is crying, so am I.

I am just happy “congratulations, we have swaddled her up. If dad wants to pick her up, we will need to take her to NICU just for a few hours, just to know she is ok with breathing but she is here awake” rubbing my hands together smiling “wow, this is going to be different. It’s my child so I need to hold her right” I chuckled, walking over with the doctor to the bed “like I said we just want to take her to the NICU for a few hours but she looks very healthy” nodding my head seeing this chubby face with lots of hair swaddled up, her eyes open. Peaking over the bed and into her eye view “oh wow, how did I know you would look like your momma, oh my god” I feel choked up “you are so perfect, hey. Wow” she is already putting her nose up at me “just support her head, it’s easier holding her when swaddled” carefully picking her up “wow, oh my god. I am so in love, you beautiful. Wow” she stifled out a yawn “hard work causing drama isn’t it” I am so happy “shall we see your momma” Robyn was ready to get off the table, her arms just snatching her from me, and it just hit Robyn so much. Her lips poked out and the cries “I get it” I said wiping my tears, she has been through shit. Tilting my head in awe, the way my daughter is staring at Robyn “you did it, I am so proud of you” I grinned “she got your nose” I said smiling, Robyn is staring at her and nothing else matters now.